Books

'How Music Got Free' Is a Compelling Read for the Disaffected Music Collector

"What happens when an entire generation commits the same crime?"


How Music Got Free: The End of an Industry, The Turn of the Century, and the Patient Zero of Piracy

Publisher: Viking
Length: 296 pages
Author: Stephen Witt
Price: $27.95
Format: Hardcover
Publication date: 2015-06
Amazon

A majority of the musically-inclined adult world can recall the time when they first heard about a sound file known as the mp3. Just like author Stephen Witt, I first came across it in college, an environment absolutely ripe for digital file sharing. Not long after I first heard of the mp3, NPR ran a story of how this rogue sound file was so high in quality that it was beginning to spook the music industry.

Indeed, right around that time, there were digital music battles being waged on numerous fronts. The computer scientists were trying to expose the compact disc as an unnecessary medium to a stubborn old guard. Music bootleggers were rapidly chipping away at a once-profitable industry. Top level executives of said industry were reluctant to embrace the quickly evolving digital trends.

Meanwhile, federal officers would be dispatched to sniff out the hackers who were performing the dirtiest work, resulting in years of online shadow chasing. In his book How Music Got Free: The End of an Industry, The Turn of the Century, and the Patient Zero of Piracy Stephen Witt traces the activity on three front lines, leapfrogging through the chapters like it was a mystery or espionage novel. Sure, there are definitely things that Witt could have included that he did not, like the fact that They Might Be Giants chose to release Long Tall Weekend in digital form only in 1999, or how Metallica chose to sue Napster, but his narrow focus on the dawn of music piracy and the ripples directly linked to it makes How Music Got Free a very fun book to read. In at least two instances, I found myself defending the book in the presence of those who judged it by its (metaphoric) cover. I had to say "No, it's pretty good once you get going."

Witt starts with Karlheinz Brandenburg, the German audio engineer who is largely considered to be the father of the mp3. In a way, Witt delves in just a bit before this historical note by outlining Brandenburg's apprenticeship under Dieter Seitzer, who studied under Eberhard Zwicker, the man responsible for developing "psychoacoustics" into an academic discipline. With some generous funding and a team of musically-sensitive computer scientists, Brandenburg set out to prove that compact discs carried an unnecessarily bulky design. If all that mattered was the digital coding, why not make that format as efficient as possible?

Many years of listening and tinkering were slow to pay off as Brandenburg and his team watched company after company take a pass on his achievements. A frequent criticism was that the mp3 was too complicated and the mp2, the mp3's inferior-sounding competitor, boasted a more user friendly format. The mp3 also lost to other formats in high profile listening tests, though Brandenburg's team blames the Motion Picture Expert Group's (MPEG) tendencies towards favoritism for their lack of progress. Without MPEG's endorsement, a programmer is stuck in their garage, and many of those endorsements are too political in nature. One member of the mp3 team was told, by a competitor at a technology convention, that there would never be a portable mp3 player. We all know how that turned out.

The second chapter introduces the reader to Bennie Lydell "Dell" Glover, a technologically inclined part time CD packager at the Polygram plant in Shelby, North Carolina. His endless curiosity for computers and software nudged him into some lucrative moonlighting gigs, such as fixing people's computers and selling bootleg DVDs.

Through his friend and fellow Polygram employee James Dockery, Glover fell into a highly secretive group of online music leakers known as the RNS. Glover became a very valuable pawn to this community. Despite the fact that he signed a form at Polygram promising that he would never steal any CDs from the packaging floor, this lowly employee felt that there must have been some way around the plant's tight security. After all, Glover had access to some of the most highly anticipated music releases during the '00s. And so he figured out a way to smuggle Eminem and Kanye West CDs out of the warehouse andupload the sound files to other RNS users a good two weeks before the albums' release dates.

Witt goes high up the corporate ladder for his third perspective. You might even say that, in the world of the music business, it's difficult to go any higher than Doug Morris. An aspiring musician and producer during the '60s, Morris founded his own label in 1970 named Big Tree Records. Towards the end of the '70s, Atlantic bought Big Tree and Morris soon found himself the head of Atlantic's hot new offshoot, Atco. After becoming president of Atlantic, Morris took over the Universal Music Group and helped guide the music business's largest corporate conglomerate through the most turbulent times in the history of the business.

This was a surprise to read. I remember reading articles as far back as 1996 explaining that recorded music sales were in a sharp decline. Yet, according to Witt's research, more people spent more money on recorded music than they ever had before. Things wobbled dangerously after that, but Morris himself always profited.

Witt does his best not to portray Morris as some shallow corporate shill who was only in it for the money. He was good to his employees and had a business savvy that could, for a while, be counted on to produce massive hits. He poached the most profitable recording artists from Interscope Records while remaining friends with Jimmy Iovine.

When Ronald Reagan's former secretary of education, Bill Bennett, a man Witt calls a "bloated neoconservative, a blithering culture warrior, and a major-league asshole", attacked the moral depravity of popular rap lyrics of the time, Morris was quick to defend Dr. Dre's right to rap what he wanted to on The Chronic. He operated mostly behind the scenes of the music industry, occasionally dropping into sight to sign artists like Juvenile because he just couldn't resist "Back That Azz Up". However, when it came to the digital revolution, Morris' instincts led him slightly astray.

These three stories become intertwined as the book progresses, and Witt certainly isn't above concluding some chapter with a juicy cliffhanger. For example, Chapter 18 ends with a coin toss in mid-air (Morris and Shawn Carter, aka Jay-Z, were trying to figure out how to break apart future profits for The Blueprint 3). When Dell Glover stumbles upon yet another breakthrough in his adventures in online piracy, Witt treats it like a major fictional plot device.

As mp3 technology begins to creep out of the darkest corners of the Internet, the book's three main characters react in their appropriate ways. Brandenburg, long accustomed to doors being slammed in his face, approached the oncoming hysteria with measured reservations. Glover took to the emerging technology in a heartbeat. Morris, high above the action in his corporate office, barely gave it the time of day at first. As the format's popularity grew, Morris was convinced it was a passing fad that needed to be waited out. Brandenburg's story changes hands with British computer science student Alan Ellis, who harnessed BitTorrent technology, to procure Oink's Pink Palace, the online music pirate bay to end all online music pirate bays.

With Ellis taking Brandenburg's place in the narrative, all three men learn their lessons the hard way. Glover and Ellis are both caught, though one escapes serving time. Morris makes a handful of bad decisions like trying to set up downloading store in an effort to compete with Apple, failing to secure a legal precedent that would discourage portable music players, and regrettably agreeing to take part in a notorious string of lawsuits dubbed Project Hubcap, where random users were sued large sums of money for having illegally downloaded a handful of songs. These targets were often young teenagers and single mothers, people without the resources to fight big corporations in the court of law.

Morris has tried to distance himself from Project Hubcap, and most people have given him a pass due to his development of VEVO. After watching the way his grandson discovered new music, via youtube.com, Morris finally found a way to jump on the internet bandwagon effectively with his powerful online video portal.

What How Music Got Free lacks in comprehensiveness, it makes up for in being an absolute page-turner. Only a few moments left me scratching my head. For example, on page 125, he gives us Morris's dilemma rhetorically: "If something was available for free, and could be freely and infinitely reproduced for free, with no degradation in quality, why would anyone pay to own it for a second time, when they already had it, for free? The moral compulsion to compensate artists certainly wouldn't be enough." Alright then, why? It's never discussed again.

In another section, Witt suggested that there was a turning point after 2000, when musicians were going to have to rely more on ticket sales as a source of income than on CD sales. I thought that business model was already in place beforehand, but How Music Got Free rarely lets the reader see things from a musician's point of view anyway.

If there's a point of view to be had by the book's end, it's that of a disaffected music collector. In his epilogue, Witt describes his trip to a warehouse in Queens that is set up a site for computer hardware recycling. Tired of keeping track of his mp3s, he hands his hard drive to a technician who takes it apart. Witt describes the scene dispassionately. Years worth of hoarding are reduced to one chunk of metal being taken apart and thrown into a dumpster.

Witt, in case you were wondering, now uses Spotify (and we all know how lucrative that is for artists). Music, for all the pain and inspiration channeled into it, and for all the joy and controversy it can trigger, is reduced to vapor by the book's end.

7
Music

The Best Metal of 2017

Painting by Mariusz Lewandowski. Cover of Bell Witch's Mirror Reaper.

There's common ground between all 20 metal albums despite musical differences: the ability to provide a cathartic release for the creator and the consumer alike, right when we need it most.

With global anxiety at unprecedented high levels it is important to try and maintain some personal equilibrium. Thankfully, metal, like a spiritual belief, can prove grounding. To outsiders, metal has always been known for its escapism and fantastical elements; but as most fans will tell you, metal is equally attuned to the concerns of the world and the internal struggles we face and has never shied away from holding a mirror up to man's inhumanity.

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From genre-busting electronic music to new highs in the ever-evolving R&B scene, from hip-hop and Americana to rock and pop, 2017's music scenes bestowed an embarrassment of riches upon us.


60. White Hills - Stop Mute Defeat (Thrill Jockey)

White Hills epic '80s callback Stop Mute Defeat is a determined march against encroaching imperial darkness; their eyes boring into the shadows for danger but they're aware that blinding lights can kill and distort truth. From "Overlord's" dark stomp casting nets for totalitarian warnings to "Attack Mode", which roars in with the tribal certainty that we can survive the madness if we keep our wits, the record is a true and timely win for Dave W. and Ego Sensation. Martin Bisi and the poster band's mysterious but relevant cool make a great team and deliver one of their least psych yet most mind destroying records to date. Much like the first time you heard Joy Division or early Pigface, for example, you'll experience being startled at first before becoming addicted to the band's unique microcosm of dystopia that is simultaneously corrupting and seducing your ears. - Morgan Y. Evans


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59. Everything Everything - A Fever Dream (RCA)

Everything Everything is a band of impossible ambition, apparent from even the name. Merely everything is not enough for this prog-pop quartet and frankly, the world may not be ready to oblige. "I want this planet, and I want it now / to beat like an anvil 'til the poison's out" begins "Desire", one of the album's early gut-punches. If these were times of hope and prosperity, maybe egos this size would be celebrated. But we've made that mistake before. Hovering in our minds is the expectation that we must repent for generations of excess with modesty, conservation, quiet introspection. A Fever Dream embodies none of this. It reeks of English imperialism and mulish masculinity. It's bombastic beyond belief, and it's exactly what we need.

Everything Everything's fourth record is its most personal and urgent yet. The lyrics seem to be a document for primary songwriter Jonathan Higgs' psychological condition, and it's a troubling one, to say the least. He wears his insecurities like armor, and his pride gleams like Excalibur. Enshrouding his big plans for this world gone mad are doubt and defeatism and a predisposition for hedonism. It's the battle of Jonathan vs. the world, but also of the world vs. the world, and of Jonathan vs. Jonathan. For us sons and daughters of the microprocessor, a mere trip to the grocer's forces us to contend with the unruly exponential growth of this absurdist empire—our neighborhoods and international networks, ids and egos are in constant need of rewiring

That concluding track of A Fever Dream rides out with the mantra: "Never tell me that we can't go further." The title of this track is "White Whale"—that impossible desire perpetually just out of reach. Whether for peace on earth or a little peace of mind, the struggle to satisfy it can lead only to insanity or death. But Everything Everything would never strive for anything less. - A. Noah Harrison



58. Do Make Say Think – Stubborn Persistent Illusions (Constellation)

Sometimes you don't know what you've got until it's gone and other times you don't realize it until it returns. Following an eight-year hiatus since Other Truths, Do Make Say Think's previous album, Stubborn Persistent Illusions is the boldest, most arresting progression of songs that the Toronto unit have crafted since Winter Hymn Country Hymn Secret Hymn in 2003. Among the swells and cries of their heavier-hearted Constellation label mates such as Godspeed You! Black Emperor and the Silver Mt. Zion permutations, Do Make Say Think always set themselves apart by keeping spry and limber. The band was, and remains, a kind of compact jazz orchestra in rock band's clothing. Not a moment is wasted even in the record's tranquil stretches. This is fitting for an album whose concept comes from something as deep yet fleeting as an "image in a Buddhist poem about working with a wild mind." - Ian King



57. The Dream Syndicate – How Did I Find Myself Here? (Anti-)

Thirty years on from their last studio album, 1988's Ghost Stories, Steve Wynn has reconvened the Dream Syndicate to release what is arguably the band's best record ever. Yes, Days of Wine & Roses will always remain a touchstone for longtime fans, its surprises still fresh after decades, but How Did I Find Myself Here? distills every lesson Wynn had learned over a long and adventurous career into a coherent eight-song set that finds his band confident and playful in equal measure, amped up and in sync. Here, Wynn is joined by longtime drummer Dennis Duck and bassist Mark Walton and, as he has since the Dream Syndicate's 2012 reformation as a touring unit, Jason Victor (Wynn's longtime partner in Miracle 3) has replaced Paul Cutler on guitar. Further, Kendra Smith's surprising and welcome return on album closer "Kendra's Dream" evaporates time to connect past and future in a perfect psychedelic drift. It all adds up to a triumphant and fitting capstone for the legendary band.



56. Lee Ann Womack - The Lonely, the Lonesome, & the Gone (ATO)

Lee Ann Womack recorded The Lonely, the Lonesome & the Gone in Houston, not far from the small town where she grew up. The album is rich with a mythical Texas in the best possible ways. Womack sings with a twang and gets sentimentally soppy or wickedly mean as the songs suggest. She goes to the extremes one would expect of a Lone Star musician. It may not be the biggest state geographically, but Texans have always done things bigger. Like her fellow state-mate George Jones, whose gospel "Take the Devil Out of Me" she covers, she's pure country, meaning she probably won't be played on country radio these days. Womack wrote half of the songs here, and redoes classic material associated with Patsy Cline, Lefty Frizzell, and Johnny Cash. She covers them with a style that shows her respect for past masters and still manages to make their songs her own. - Steve Horowitz



55. Charly Bliss - Guppy (Barsuk)

On the first track of Charly Bliss' debut album Guppy, the pop-rock band, led by potent vocalist Eva Hendricks, makes a bold declaration of self. On "Percolator", Hendricks defines her artistic self and if that definition includes some uncertainty and some conflict, so much the better as Hendricks's confidence bursts forth in accepting all those elements. The rest of the album, a joyous bash of guitars and energy, pounds through related but non-repetitive territory. Hendricks takes on relationships, abuse, and harassment (and more), vocalizing complex feelings and ideas that need to be heard. She shifts quickly from anger to humor to questioning without breaking stride. The band and its sound of eating candy in the garage delivers catchy melodies and bright sounds that matches the sense of seeking and realization throughout the album. Guppy looks for sense in a demanding world while retaining a strong center, keeping a strong self-assurance in the face of various challenges. - Justin Cober-Lake



54. Tyler, the Creator - Flower Boy (Columbia)

After baiting the media with controversial, derogatory statements for years, the fact that Flower Boy was hyped as the album where Tyler, the Creator came out of the closet was, for some, reason enough to dig into it, to give him a second chance, to reassess his past statements or, you know, dismiss him all over again. Yet despite lines about "kissing white boys since 2004", the crux of Flower Boy isn't Tyler revealing his sexuality so much as he's revealing his loneliness. This is a profoundly sad album, where the immaculate production hits all of your brain's pleasure centers at once while distracting you from how isolated he feels. Happiness is always elusive, which is why he pulls out every trick he can to prevent us from seeing the real human beneath, from stacking the tracks with guest spots to releasing the worst song as the lead single. Yet the more time you spend with it, the more you wan to keep coming back to the emotional world he's constructed for himself. You'll share in his loneliness, too. - Evan Sawdey



53. Lana Del Rey – Lust for Life (Interscope)

The image of physically scaling the Hollywood sign's "H" encapsulates Lana Del Rey's ethos in that celebrity is not some abstract pinnacle one reaches but one that needs to be experienced in person. Chasing the rush of fame drove the impeccable Born to Die and, five years later, the feeling of having achieved it is evoked by the smoldering warmth of Lust for Life. Still, the disarray of the world broke through even to pop's foremost escapist, but she addresses it and her well-earned status with cryptic optimism; "Is it the end of an era? / … / No, it's only the beginning." What Lust for Life teaches is that one can – and, possibly, should – stay as vigilant towards the affairs that affect us all while also indulging in the selfish, beautiful act of seeking love. - Brian Duricy



52. Paramore - After Laughter (Fueled by Ramen)

Many bands know what a Herculean undertaking reinventing their sound is. This year, nobody did it better than former pop-punkers Paramore. Four years since their last release, Hayley Williams and co. released After Laughter, which fuses sleek elements of '80s new wave, funk, and synthpop while keeping their emotional foundations intact. The most important ingredient to Paramore's success is the return of founding member Zac Farro, whose musical direction in side project HalfNoise point to the influence he had on crafting the new Paramore. Although ten years removed from their breakout, Riot!, they're still "in the business of misery" with songs like "Fake Happy" and hit single "Hard Times". But if the misery business means more of these grooving bass lines and tropical marimbas and guitar riffs, sign me up. - Chris Thiessen



51. (Sandy) Alex G - Rocket (Domino)

Alex Giannascoli refines his paradoxical impulses on Rocket. On his eighth full-length overall, and second for Domino, he crafts a beautifully strange brew of haunting folk with a narrative that's oddly indistinct. He's learned to work within the constraints of an album, a format that he treated with some flippancy during his Bandcamp years, though he still finds any excuse to circumvent the format as he draws upon a patchwork of ideas. Giannascoli finds his muse in longtime collaborator, and partner, Molly Germer, an accomplished violinist who adds whim and character to his otherwise sparse arrangements. From yearning country ballad "Bobby" -- their voices entwined and harmonized to their lush, string-led compositions -- to the gliding melancholy of "Powerful Man", they provide a touching ode to traditional folk that comes across as some alien take on a Smithsonian Folkways recording. And yet Rocket is so much more, taking on a surfeit of modern and antiquated music styles set against a backdrop of bucolic terrain. But even at its most eccentric, Giannascoli has accomplished a winsome collection of handcrafted songs that leave a lasting impression. - Juan Edgardo Rodriguez

In Americana music the present is female. Two-thirds of our year-end list is comprised of albums by women. Here, then, are the women (and a few men) who represented the best in Americana in 2017.

If a single moment best illustrates the current divide between Americana music and mainstream country music, it was Sturgill Simpson busking in the street outside the CMA Awards in Nashville. While Simpson played his guitar and sang in a sort of renegade-outsider protest, Garth Brooks was onstage lip-syncindg his way to Entertainer of the Year. Americana music is, of course, a sprawling range of roots genres that incorporates traditional aspects of country, blues, soul, bluegrass, etc., but often represents an amalgamation or reconstitution of those styles. But one common aspect of the music that Simpson appeared to be championing during his bit of street theater is the independence, artistic purity, and authenticity at the heart of Americana music. Clearly, that spirit is alive and well in the hundreds of releases each year that could be filed under Americana's vast umbrella.

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Beware the seemingly merry shades of green and red that spread so slowly and thickly across the holiday season, for something dark and uncertain, something that takes many forms, stirs beneath the joyful facade.

Let's be honest -- not everyone feels merry at this time of year. Psychologists say depression looms large around the holidays and one way to deal with it is cathartically. Thus, we submit that scary movies can be even more salutary at Christmas than at Halloween. So, Merry Christmas. Ho ho ho wa ha ha!

1. The Old Dark House (James Whale, 1932)

Between Frankenstein (1931) and The Invisible Man (1933), director James Whale made this over-the-top lark of a dark and stormy night with stranded travelers and a crazy family. In a wordless performance, Boris Karloff headlines as the deformed butler who inspired The Addams Family's Lurch. Charles Laughton, Raymond Massey, Gloria Stuart, Melvyn Douglas and Ernest Thesiger are among those so vividly present, and Whale has a ball directing them through a series of funny, stylish scenes. This new Cohen edition provides the extras from Kino's old disc, including commentaries by Stuart and Whale biographer James Curtis. The astounding 4K restoration of sound and image blows previous editions away. There's now zero hiss on the soundtrack, all the better to hear Massey starting things off with the first line of dialogue: "Hell!"

(Available from Sony Pictures Home Entertainment)

2. The Lure (Agnieszka Smoczynska, 2015)

Two mermaid sisters (Marta Mazurek, Michalina Olszanska) can summon legs at will to mingle on shore with the band at a Polish disco, where their siren act is a hit. In this dark reinvention of Hans Christian Andersen's already dark The Little Mermaid, one love-struck sister is tempted to sacrifice her fishy nature for human mortality while her sister indulges moments of bloodlust. Abetted by writer Robert Bolesto and twin sister-musicians Barbara and Zuzanna Wronska, director Agnieszka Smoczynska offers a woman's POV on the fairy tale crossed with her glittery childhood memories of '80s Poland. The result: a bizarre, funy, intuitive genre mash-up with plenty of songs. This Criterion disc offers a making-of and two short films by Smoczynska, also on musical subjects.

(Available from Criterion Collection / Read PopMatters review here.)

3. Personal Shopper (Olivier Assayas, 2016)

In the category of movies that don't explain themselves in favor of leaving some of their mysteries intact, here's Olivier Assayas' follow-up to the luminous Clouds of Sils Maria. Kristen Stewart again plays a celebrity's lackey with a nominally glamorous, actually stupid job, and she's waiting for a sign from her dead twin brother. What about the ghostly presence of a stalker who sends provocative text messages to her phone? The story flows into passages of outright horror complete with ectoplasm, blood, and ooga-booga soundscapes, and finally settles for asking the questions of whether the "other world" is outside or inside us. Assayas has fashioned a slinky, sexy, perplexing ghost story wrapped around a young woman's desire for something more in her life. There's a Cannes press conference and a brief talk from Assayas on his influences and impulses.

(Available from Criterion Collection / Reader PopMatters review here.

4. The Ghoul (Gareth Tunley, 2016)

The hero (Tom Meeten) tells his therapist that in his dreams, some things are very detailed and others are vague. This movie tells you bluntly what it's up to: a Möbius strip narrative that loops back on itself , as attributed to the diabolical therapists for their cosmic purposes. Then we just wait for the hero to come full circle and commit the crime that, as a cop, he's supposedly investigating. But this doesn't tell us whether he's really an undercover cop pretending to be depressed, or really a depressive imagining he's a cop, so some existential mysteries will never be answered. It's that kind of movie, indebted to David Lynch and other purveyors of nightmarish unreality. Arrow's disc offers a making-of, a commentary from writer-director Gareth Tunley and Meeten along with a producer, and a short film from Tunley and Meeten.

(Available from Arrow Video)

​5. The Illustrated Man (Jack Smight, 1969)

When a young man goes skinny-dipping with a mysterious stranger (Rod Steiger) who's covered with tattoos, the pictures comes to life in a series of odd stories, all created by Ray Bradbury and featuring Steiger and Claire Bloom in multiple roles. Nobody was satisfied with this failure, and it remains condemned to not having reached its potential. So why does Warner Archive grace it with a Blu-ray? Because even its failure has workable elements, including Jerry Goldsmith's score and the cold neatness of the one scene people remember: "The Veldt", which combines primal child/parent hostilities (a common Bradbury theme) with early virtual reality. It answers the question of why the kids spend so much time in their room, and why they're hostile at being pulled away.

(Available from Warner Bros.)

6. The Hidden (Jack Sholder, 1987)


In one of my favorite action movies of the '80s, a post-Blue Velvet and pre-Twin Peaks Kyle MacLachlan plays an FBI agent who forms a buddy-cop bond with Michael Nouri while pursuing a perp -- a bodiless entity that plugs into the human id. In the midst of slam-bang action comes a pivotal moment when a startling question is asked: "How do you like being human?" The heart of the movie, rich in subtext, finds two men learning to embrace what's alien to them. In pop-culture evolution, this movie falls between Hal Clement's novel Needle and the TV series Alien Nation. On this Warner Archive Blu-ray, Sholder offers a commentary with colleague Tim Hunter.

(Available from Warner Bros.)

7. Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me (David Lynch, 1992)

Speaking of Twin Peaks, here we have a textbook example of a movie that pleased almost nobody upon its release but has now generated such interest, thanks in large part to this year's Twin Peaks revival, that it arrives on Criterion. A feature-film prequel to David Lynch and Mark Frost's original TV serial that answered none of its questions and tossed in a raft of new ones, the film functions as one of cinema's most downbeat, disruptive and harsh depictions of a middle-class American teenage girl's social context. Sheryl Lee delivers a virtuoso performance that deserved the Oscar there was no way she'd be nominated for, and she wasn't. The extras, including a 90-minute film of deleted and alternate takes assembled by Lynch, have been available on previous sets.

(Available from Criterion Collection)

8. The Green Slime (Kinji Fukasaku, 1968)

Incredibly, Warner Archive upgrades its on-demand DVD of a groovy, brightly colored creature feature with this Blu-ray. As a clever reviewer indicated in this PopMatters review, what director Kinji Fukasaku saw as a Vietnam allegory functions more obviously as a manifestation of sexual tension between alpha-jock spacemen competing for the attention of a foxy female scientist, and this subconsciously creates an explosion of big green tentacled critters who overrun the space station. While we don't believe in "so bad it's good," this falls squarely into the category of things so unfacetiously absurd, they come out cool. There's a sublimely idiotic theme song.

(Available from Warner Bros.)

If the idea is that earth, water, fire, air and space constitute the core elements of life, then these five songs might seem as their equivalents to surviving the complications that come from embracing the good and enduring the ugly of the Christmas season.

Memory will never serve us well when it comes to Christmas and all its surrounding complications. Perhaps worse than the financial and familial pressures, the weather and the mad rush to consume and meet expectations, to exceed what happened the year before, are the floods of lists and pithy observations about Christmas music. We know our favorite carols and guilty pleasures ("O Come All Ye Faithful", "Silent Night"), the Vince Guaraldi Trio's music for 1965's A Charlie Brown Christmas that was transcendent then and (for some, anyway) has lost none of its power through the years, and we embrace the rock songs (The Kink's "Father Christmas", Greg Lake's "I Believe In Father Christmas", and The Pretenders' "2000 Miles".) We dismiss the creepy sexual predator nature in any rendition of "Baby, It's Cold Outside", the inanity of Alvin and the Chipmunks, and pop confections like "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus".

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