REVIEWS: Number of the Beast, Heima (Sigur Ros), Super Bowl XLII Commercials
February 6, 2008
Number of the Beast
reviewed by Mason Judy
Growing up in the midland of Canada, when you partied you listened to Iron Maiden. If you didn’t you either a) are lying about your past or b) never went to any parties. Now let me be clear when I say party. I am not talking about some namby-pamby get-together where you played Twister or Dominos instead of having a Bible study. I am talking about a party: fifty-plus people in some dude’s basement playing pool, mildly gazing at a TV, shot-gunning who knows what, getting facial burns from a treadmill and witnessing a fair number of men participate in shirtless escapades.
This is the backdrop that is necessary to fully appreciate what is arguably the zenith of Britain’s most powerful heavy metal outfit. In the wake of bands like Led Zepplin and Deep Purple, Iron Maiden led the charge of the new wave of British heavy metal. Now you can talk to me about Motörhead or Def Leppard, or even more obscure acts such as Diamond Head or Angel Witch, but from its outset Number of the Beast (1982) makes it clear who was king.
Number of the Beast was Maiden’s third album, which completed their trinity of darkness and established their musical identity in the years to come. From the driving “Invaders,” and “Run to the Hills,” to the building intensity of the title track and their magnum opus, “Hallowed Be Thy Name,” this record demands to be heard.
The band experienced turmoil when their former lead singer Paul Di’Anno could not control his drug habits and they were forced to find a new front man. Maiden’s second album, Killers, had a punk aesthetic that they moved away from, towards a larger and more complex sound: truly it was a meeting of fantastic forces as they acquired the legendary and operatically trained Bruce Dickinson.
Another reason to listen to Maiden was that they were not only socially conscious (”Run to the Hills”) but made obscure references to pop culture. “Children of the Damned,” is a nod to the films Village of the Damned and Children of the Damned. As well, “The Prisoner” refers to an old British television show of the same name.
It is possible that some in more “holy” circles may frown upon this album for more reasons than one. But it has a direct quote from Scripture (Revelations 13:18), which is more than can be said of numerous Steven Curtis Chapman records.
Ultimately, it is as Dickinson says in the last track, “I’ve gone beyond to see the truth.” Who knew the truth would sound this badass?
Heima - A film by Sigur Ros
reviewed by Bethany Meckelburg
Ask me what one of my favourite Christmas gifts was this year and I’ll tell you: the new Sigur Rós film, Heíma.
It ranks up there for three reasons: all my favourite songs from all of their albums, mystical Icelandic scenary and an original take on a normally unoriginal band must-do; the live DVD.
The 97 minute documentary-style film follows the band as they travel across their native Iceland this past summer holding free concerts in 16 different locations including a remote field, community halls, an abandoned herring oil tank, and their largest ever show in the capital, Reykjavík. Released on Nov. 5, 2007 of this year along with a new album, it’s the first work to come from the band in two years and followed quickly on the tail of their worldwide tour. The DVD comes as a set of two, Disc One is the film and Disc Two includes the entire performance of each song as well as some special features.
Heíma translates into “at home” or “homeland,” which captures the mood of the two discs. There is a sense that the band members of Sigur Rós are taking you into their home and showing you a side of them that is much more accessible than any other live DVD I’ve ever seen.
For me, this band, and the country they are from, have always seemed mysterious and beyond my reach, but the interviews, performances and breathtaking views give the viewer a little more insight into where they are coming from. Not that they invite you completely in though; like everything that holds a certain magical quality, there is always a secret which remains in order to keep drawing the person in for more.
The best part of these DVDs is the seamless flow between dreamlike music and the images of Icelandic countryside. Crystal clear melodies and crisp instrumental sounds personify the images of cold skies, dark water and drastic cliffs.
Be sure to watch “Gítardjamm,” the song which has the band playing in the herring oil tank, one of the most unorthodox and coolest venues ever, and the random choir performance accompanied by an organ set on a roll of barbed wire in the middle of a field. I also liked the old man who makes marimbas out of things like flat rocks and hundred-year-old rhubarb stalks. These things only serve to reinforce in my mind why it’s one of my favourite gifts, and why I’m sure you’ll love this too.
Super Bowl XLII Commercials
reviewed by Jillian Snyder
My friends in Canada should be aware that they are receiving only one small part of the glory that is the Super Bowl by merely watching grown men hit each other on a field over a piece of inflated pigskin. There is an entirely other dimension to the Superbowl that those down south experience: namely, the commercials.
While I was not physically in the States to take in the shameless advertising on a 52′ screen alongside my American compatriots, I was able to partake of them in 2′ splendour thanks to MySpace — an internet tool I once only associated with high schoolers and creepy middle-aged men.
The commercials featured a few Super Bowl mainstays: Bud Light, Pepsi, Doritos and Coke. Case in point: Bud Light’s new features were commercials that involved men learning to fly and to breathe fire respectively with, of course, unexpected consequences. I personally favoured the learning to breathe fire commercial as it reminds me of general first date horror stories.
Coke and Pepsi also did not fail to disappoint with their spontaneous appearances of celebrities and politicians. Playing off the recent U.S. primary buzz, Coke redefined the definition of bipartisan unity by turning Republican Bill Frist, former Senate Majority Leader, and Democratic political consultant James Carville, into buddies over a bottle of pop. Pepsi, in turn, featured Justin Timberlake being dragged across half a town. If you hate JT, seeing him fly into the hood of a car might be funny. If you like him, you can now brag that Justin Timberlake is not only a fantastic R&B artist, he also does his own stunts.
The true surprise of this year’s snack lineup was Vitamin Water’s ironic take on Shaquille O’Neal leaving his NBA career to become a jockey. Watching the basketball behemoth on that tiny racehorse evoked some of the best moments of Super Bowl ad time.
However, it was FedEx that stole the show with their gigantic pigeon ad that played off of Hollywood’s recent penchant for destroying cities and causing mayhem. It receives my award for wittiest commercial of them all.
General acrimonious words go out to the Salesgenie.com and Bud Light ads that stereotype foreigners with accents and thus confirm stereotypes about the United States and their general ignorance about the rest of the world.
To see them for yourself, visit the Superbowl Myspace.
Now you go...
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