Posted inCulture

The War on Art: Rape of Europa investigates Hitler’s attack on culture

One of the many graphic rape scenesI can't say that this movie is boring. Let's just say it's longer than it should be. It's the kind of documentary you can watch on the History Channel and be glad there are commercials so you can take a well-deserved break.
There are, however, a ton of interesting facts. In fact, I wrote down a lot of them just so I could feel smarter. But the gist of this movie is pretty simple: Hitler stole or destroyed a bunch of artwork. Some items are lost forever. Some were found and restored. There are debates on who gets them after they are rediscovered. The End.
Rape of Europa provides a fairly detailed history lesson on the rise and fall of the Third Reich, introducing a theory that most cities were targeted due to the artwork they housed to accommodate Hitler's desire to build the ultimate Nazi art museum. There was a hit list of cities to be plundered and pillaged for masterpieces he deemed Third Reich-worthy. The film suggests, for example, that Russia's Leningrad was bombed for its Armitage museum. On the other hand, Warsaw was almost annihilated because like the Jews, the Nazis considered Poles a vile race and their art degenerate. That's right, the film suggests that Warsaw was virtually destroyed because its residents had bad taste. Soon, cities got wise to the fact that museums were obliterated and/or looted. There were massive evacuation relocation plans from the Louvre and other museums, moving the precious treasures to remote castles miles away. Oddly, Hitler spared Paris, because he wanted it to be a mere shadow next to his uber museum.

Posted inCulture

Thrusting With Scissors: And other stylin’ tricks gleaned from the Zohan

Sandler stars in Teen Wolf IIWho knew that cutting hair could be so gross? Or that co-authors Adam Sandler and Judd Apatow (seemingly in a professional freefall from triumphs such as Forgetting Sarah Marshall and The 40-Year-Old Virgin) could create any relationship at all between a Mossad agent and the gyrating hair stylist in New York City he morphs into? If you think the previews look bad, the movie proves downright nasty. Director Dennis Dugan (I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry) delivers a movie that even made a grown guy sitting next to me cover his eyes more than once.
Sandler combines every disgusting pelvic gesture imaginable with sticky, icky hair crรจmes, as he pours, squirts, and spurts various liquids on the manes of middle-to-older aged women in a hair salon. And unfortunately those aren't the only things spurting in this film. For some reason, he then feels compelled to escort these by now willingly wanton women, fairly panting into the back room in order to facilitate their youthful imaginings. Uck. Whatever happened to just bestowing an exaggerated compliment, like "Boy Mrs. Wilson, you look at least thirty years younger with those new gold highlights and spikes?"

Posted inFood & Drink

Goin’ To A Hukilau: Laying the theme on thick at Bungalow

BungatimeTheme is king at the Bungalow Tropical Bar and Grille, a new no-holds-barred tropical fusion restaurant in north Bend, where cabana boys greet outside the front door. “Aloha,” they crooned to our group, while shivering in Hawaiian shirts, and directing us to the stairs that led up to the expansive second-floor.
Once inside, we were greeted with more “Alohas!” this time by young women in print sundresses who asked us if we want “formal” or “casual.” Peering around a wall of water, we saw half of the restaurant outfitted with high-backed chairs and white linens with rain forest sounds piped in for that extra tropical boost.
The other side is split between the “Sand Bar,” which is covered with the requisite grass shack roof, headquarters for “Bungatime” (otherwise known as happy hour) and a dining area with booths decorated in mini surfboards. At the Bungalow there’s no skimping on atmosphere-enhancing props. A soundtrack marked by Jimmy Buffet’s “Margaritaville” resonated from overhead in the Sand Bar as surf films played on the big screen TV. There’s also a large tropical fish tank to help set the ocean tone.

Posted inFood & Drink

Goin’ To A Hukilau: Laying the theme on thick at Bungalow

BungatimeTheme is king at the Bungalow Tropical Bar and Grille, a new no-holds-barred tropical fusion restaurant in north Bend, where cabana boys greet outside the front door. "Aloha," they crooned to our group, while shivering in Hawaiian shirts, and directing us to the stairs that led up to the expansive second-floor.
Once inside, we were greeted with more "Alohas!" this time by young women in print sundresses who asked us if we want "formal" or "casual." Peering around a wall of water, we saw half of the restaurant outfitted with high-backed chairs and white linens with rain forest sounds piped in for that extra tropical boost.
The other side is split between the "Sand Bar," which is covered with the requisite grass shack roof, headquarters for "Bungatime" (otherwise known as happy hour) and a dining area with booths decorated in mini surfboards. At the Bungalow there's no skimping on atmosphere-enhancing props. A soundtrack marked by Jimmy Buffet's "Margaritaville" resonated from overhead in the Sand Bar as surf films played on the big screen TV. There's also a large tropical fish tank to help set the ocean tone.

Posted inMusic

Liner Notes: Super Freaks

Nylon is always in style
David Bowie and Dennis Rodman face new extra-terrestrial competition in the form of Taboo (guitar), Intellijamus (bass), Otto E. Roticize (drums) and their adopted father Dr. Wonder Bred (keys) of Seattle's Super Sonic Soul Pimps.
According to the band's Website (which we take as gospel, as we do all Websites), the three "humaliens" were adopted by Dr. Bred after the death of their pimp father in the heat of "cruel alien passion" with the triplet's alien mother. The three hybrid triplets and their adopted mad scientist father have managed to keep under government radar long enough to release three CDs and gather quite the following of fans.
While their ancestral planet is unnamed, it's probably somewhere near whatever galaxy Parliament and George Clinton hail from. Super Sonic Soul Pimps spin out a blend of funk, rock and even some metal-sounding songs that are unlike anything you've ever heard. From weird Axl Rose-style screams and Beavis and Butt-head voices to funked out guitar riffs and beats, SSSP never fails to surprise their human listener. And they do it all in skin-tight leotards because whatever planet they're from they clearly believe that spandex is a right not a privilege.

Posted inMusic

The Sound Check Fitness Program

Get Your Stomp On
Sound Check's legs are tired after this weekend and here's why: We were out running our not-so-in-shape bodies around town lending our ears to whatever free (or at least affordable) music we could find. With the mercury stretching its neck into the mid 60s and the sun peeking out for more than it has in weeks, Bendites emerged from their homes, shedding winter jackets and pretending that summer has finally arrived.
Once we arranged our sweatbands properly, we jogged down to the Mirror Pond Plaza for the first-ever Downtown Sound gathering. We caught an earful about the horn section attack of Necktie Killers from a loyal fan while we watched a retooled Empty Space Orchestra (now with guitar and vocals!) play a well-received set to a swirl cone mix of 150-or-so local heads and curious fanny packing tourists.
With our heart rates in the 140s and anti-chafe cream applied liberally to our thighs, we strode to the Old Mill District for the Balloons Over Bend festival where Leif James' Springsteen-esque voice was melting nicely into his folk-rock strumming. He even tossed in bluesy takes on American traditionals (made famous by the Dead) like "Goin' Down the Road Feeling Bad" and "I Know You Rider."
Gatorade be damned, we slammed a couple pints (needed the carbohydrates) and returned to Downtown Sound where the sun was setting, beanies were topping heads and the stage featured hip-hop artist Benzo hyping a depleted crowd and one terrifyingly confident and vodka-soaked young woman dancing in front of the stage with a toddler in one arm and a middle finger extending from the other. Gary Busey-style partiers aside, Sound Check did nonetheless give Downtown Sound a passing grade for its first time out.

Posted inMusic

Rising Up: Roots of Creation are out to save the world and your faith in reggae

Jah Man!On a freezing cold Friday night on the last day of November, my friend and I throw back our margaritas, bundle up and head out into the snow to make our way to Armadillo's Burritos in Keene, New Hampshire to see a band called Roots of Creation. Even though we get there early, the bar is already filled and the beer line goes almost to the door. I'm skeptical about the band, but by the second song, I'm sold. Roots of Creation has that sort of effect on people. Seven months and one cross-country move from Vermont to Bend later, it seems like the band has followed me across the continent for two Central Oregon shows.
The New Hampshire reggae-fueled jam band is set to light up Les Schwab Amphitheater this Sunday for a free Summer Sundays gig, then return just a week later to play the Bite of Bend. The band has perfected a mix of intelligent lyrics (think a less political Rage Against The Machine) and a laid-back reggae feel (similar to Sublime) but no two songs are exactly alike. Whether it's the infectious pop tune "That's How Strong My Love Is," the smooth Marley-esque crooning about utopian society in "Babylon" or straight-up guitar-driven rock jam in "(A) Peace, Love and Music," this band keeps the listener interested. And just when you think you might have their sound pigeonholed they burst out with a soul-infused "Breathe It > Exhale" and "Made for Me," a quiet little rock song with a tinge of twangy country guitar. The band, which cites everyone from Sublime to Paul McCartney and Operation Ivy as influences, manages to tie everything into a cohesive unit with consistent vocals and beats.

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