Miserable Retail Slave

by Abe

 There was once a hallowed tradition I honored long ago. It involved pre game drinking at my apartment before karaoke night on Tuesdays/Wednesdays and Guitar Hero 1 and 2. This allowed me to save money and enter karaoke night with a brazen sense of showmanship. Walking into the bar with beer on my breath and the low lights scrolling toward me like the colored note charts of those games; it was just like another gig to me, just another time to shine. 

Two players, two plastic guitars…those were the days. On the other side of the cash register there was big money to be made in music vide games. Soon the simplicity of cutting heads Crossroads-style via plastic guitar controllers was overshadowed by the alluring cooperation of Rock Band. Now it was your duty to find two guitarists, a drummer and a singer to drive that score through the roof. Forget karaoke night, Rock Band is bringing back the house party because everyone wants a turn on those drums. The game that gave my Playstation 2 hours and hours of playability also spawned a competitor series that made me go next generation and let that boxy old PS2 collect dust. 

By the time I was able to afford my PS3, Rock Band 2 was already on retailer’s shelves and that is where I started my love/hate relationship with the game. At this time I was living in a place where there were no neighbors above or below and there was nothing but rocking out. I was blessed with band mates who either too scared of the drums, or expert level on guitar which allowed me to helm the plastic percussion like it was my job. In bittersweet fashion after being laid off from my real job it may as well have been my career. 

"On Tour" February 2009

In true Behind the Music fashion this high score drummer fell to various life changes and me and my video games found ourselves crammed into a bedroom above my dad’s garage. This was great news for not keeping anyone awake, horrible news for the rest of the band. As the days went on my instruments were hidden away and soon buried under laundry. My fake plastic drums would peek out from a bed sheet and taunt me for being washed up and lonely. It was right, and soon I found solace in NCAA football and 40 oz Miller Lites. 

Abe Alguire cira February 2010 (artist's rendering)

Like any has been rocker things have been looking up and there is always one or two opportunities for redemption. Although I am now in an apartment with neighbors all around me like the tiny fake fans I used to have the band equipment is still hidden away in that bedroom above that garage. The Rock Band world still goes on. Since I played the game last there has been new songs released for purchase each week and even the introduction of the Rock Band Network which allows publishers to introduce even more DLC. As Journey said once a long

time ago, and once too many on recent jukebox plays, the wheel in the sky keeps on turning. 

Rock Band 3 is on the horizon and with it comes the familiar set up plus the addition of three part vocal harmonies, and a keyboard like controller. There is an introduction of an all new Pro mode of play. According to the game’s website is supposed to transcend the normal mode of play and “empower the players to develop actual musical skills through the fun of Rock Band Pro game play.” When I first read this I felt excitement.

This was a music game wet dream.  Then I felt stupid because no matter what Harmonix came up with next I wasn’t 24 anymore. I didn’t have the money to spend on these stupid plastic instruments and I can’t invite people over to play music games because I will be evicted. I hope someone enjoys Rock Band 3 like I enjoyed Guitar Hero 1 and 2 and I hope they appreciate the times when they are all able to get together as a band and not worry about anything before they hit the bar for some karaoke. Any one up for some NCAA?

-Abe Alguire

by Abe

(Disclaimer: Due to the controversial subject matter the following article does not reflect the views or opinions of Miserable Retail Slave© as a whole.)

What can I say? I am a late bloomer. I have always marched at my own clumsy, desynchronized beat. Whether it was learning to walk (I skipped crawling), losing my virginity (don’t ask) or graduating college (still haven’t) I have never been one to fall into line. So naturally, developing a smoking habit was no different. At 27 years old I decided to try my hand at the world’s most glamorous addiction. It was the logical decision, what else could I do to make myself appear much more cool and self assured? I already give off that laid back look from my lack of personal upkeep, so why not add a new angle? Why not give myself an edge?

Striking that match and inhaling a cocktail of carcinogens made the world of difference. I could feel the transformation in my body, my lungs screaming at me “What the hell are you doing you god damned idiot? Now we are going to be no better off than your liver!” beyond that there was something more. Deep down I could feel this coolness stirring inside me, brewing ready to boil over. This was the time to exhale a steam cloud of smoke tip my head back and say “…aaaah smooth” in the most convincing relaxed voice ever imagined. I belonged on a sailboat on the crystal blue ocean with smiling girls hanging all over me, or in a pool hall with a cocky smirk on my face chalking my cue with all of my friends behind me, laughing like it was the best time of their lives, each with their own lit cigarette in hand. At that moment I was the protagonist in 80’s cinema, or the cunning villain in 90’s cinema and beyond.

(Figure 1A: L: R William Hurt, Kathleen Turner.) 1981, Body Heat. At one point in American cinema the brash sexy lead was seen smoking cigarettes, a trait now exclusive to villains and idiots.

That coolness manifested into raw sexual energy and I noticed what few women that were actually in the establishment shifting uncomfortably in their seats and lose focus of their conversations with their dates with each puff I took. It would not surprise me the least bit if Cheri, the bartender had to wipe down the seats as well as the tables that night. I don’t want to mislead anyone about cigarettes here. Even though I was smoking and I was experiencing werewolf-like changes, my batting average remained the same: all strikeouts. I am no scientist but the rejection may have been from the lack of personal upkeep I mentioned earlier, or my slight huskiness.

Although my charm had escalated with interesting new quirks like coughing wretchedly mid-sentence, wheezing when I laughed or when I ascended staircases with four steps or more, there were also more alarming side effects. Weeks into my new habit I started having frequent nose bleeds. There was even what appeared to pieces of my organs floating in the bowl after I would poop. For a while I assumed this was normal. I tallied this up to another tax on being cool through the use of tobacco products. I mean I was breathing in hot fiery smoke deep into my airway, like a dragon. It took a man to harness that power. This is when I found out about the fire safety chemicals. I was talking to some friends of mine who had been sucking on hellfire much longer than me. It started out as innocent chatter, but their raspy hoarse voices awoke me into the reality I was now living. It went something like this short play:

Me: (dragging cool and deep on a cigarette) Man, we look cool, don’t we?

Them: (hoarsely like studs) Yeah man, but you are retarded for starting to smoke.

Me: Well yeah, but these things are so smooth and addictive, plus I look so moody and interesting. I look like a writer who has a lot of problems and is in dire need of a woman’s touch.

Them: Well that and the fact that this has always been our angle, man. You have always been so cool without cigarettes. Our only chance to be cool was when we’d come over here to the bar and light up our cigarettes. Now we all look moody and interesting, and if all of us are smoking, and we all look interesting that just makes us plain and boring, and really quite gross.

Me: (dragging off of my cigarette with a dark contemplative look on my face) Yeah, but because I drink so much I am at the bar on nights you guys aren’t and then I am the only mysterious one in here. Do you know how cool and dangerously appealing I am when I am here on a Tuesday drinking by myself and smoking?

Them: You are an idiot.

Me: (exhaling a massive cloud of gray smoke)

Them: Plus you started a highly addictive habit after legislation made tobacco companies spray these bad ass cigarettes with a nasty chemical that prevents them from smoldering long after they are put down.

Me: (handsomely smashing my cigarette into an ashtray with authority and dramatic flair) What!?! They sprayed chemicals onto these sweet satisfying cigarettes? So you guys aren’t getting nosebleeds or shitting out bits and pieces of organs you most probably need because all we do is smoke and drink?

Them: Well some of us do, but some of us also have built up some sort of weird tolerance to them after years and years of smoking.

by Abe

This Addiction Album review

Heartbreak's Guilty Little Pleasure

This Addiction is the seventh album from dreary pop punkers Alkaline Trio and the follow up to 2008's Agony and Irony. This recording continues the Chicago band's steady legacy of songs of love gone wrong, love gone weird and just the plain old weird. Alkaline Trio has been the beacon for good music for bad times for over a decade. The production value has remained consistent among their latest albums, but there is an inkling for the band to return to their gritty roots. Though it's paradoxical to ask of a band who has made their way up from the DIY scene to Target shelves, it would be excellent to hear songs revisit the vein of songs like "Bleeder" and "Radio", and return to the darkness of spiteful bitterness and liver punishing fury.

The album opens up with "This Addiction," the clear choice for the first single. It's an almost too short romp where drummer Derek Grant nearly steals the show with the songs beat. Matt Skiba, the bands guitarist helms the vocals comparing a troubled relationship to an addict struggling with an opiate addiction. Though this metaphor has probably been used before, it is Skiba's knack for just the right barbed words that sell the song. "Well those others were like Methadone/ I took to get me through the day/ Now I'm trying to find my way back home/ I'm staying clean along the way-hold out for the real thing, yeah"

Those familiar with the bands other releases will be acquainted with Matt Skiba and bassist Dan Andriano alternating turns as lead vocalist on songs. This may be the only redeeming quality that brings diversity to This Addiction. After one or two listens the sound of the album ran together in a droning fashion leaving the lyrics the only distinguishable mile marker. Surprisingly one of the albums key points is "The American Scream", a tribute to veterans and their struggles with coping and post traumatic stress. Sociopolitical songs are not Alkaline Trio's breadwinners, but Skiba, sympathetically gives us an allegorical tale while scathingly chastising America's bravado for war and their shortsightedness of welfare for the troops after their tours are up.

The middle of the album sees it's finest moment with "Off the Map". Dan Andriano handles the vocals with his coaxing voice and his poetic lyrics, a reassuring contrast and fine compliment to Skiba's rasp and darkness. It finds us back in the bands comfort zone. Andriano channels the mood after an argument between lovers, giving us the confessional lines "I loosen my lips and the truth slips out/ A free ride on a forked tongue/ This twine of trust is unspun". The chorus is only helped with a much present vocal addition by Matt Skiba in the background, making the song catchy and deserving a much needed nod for composition.

By the second half of the album the ball is finally rolling and This Addiction sheds it's monotonous pace and starts to weigh in with better attempts. On the seventh track we find "Draculina", whose intro sets itself apart from the other tracks with soft palm mutes and a moody synthesizer. Matt Skiba never has a shortage of songs about femme fatales. He shines here with the morbidity and dark imagery that helped make him an alternative music folk hero. The songs opening verse and the cue of the band makes this track worhty of being a single or at least a spot on a horror movie soundtrack. "Whatever happened to Wonderland. Where'd Alice go? (oh)/ I took a night dream with a knife in hand/ And cut out to the next show back in her living hell/ I wish to dwell , I long to be, in the blood and guts with the birds of prey and the stinging of bees/ and bullwhips baby".

For new Alkaline Trio fans this isn't a bad place to start, but it is strongly encouraged to start from the beginning and snatch up previous albums where the band's framework and much debated better material lies. For the old fans and the faithful This Addiction is enjoyable and falls in line with their latest, but as far as the band releasing a breakthrough album, besides subtle tweaks and improvements nothing has changed much since 2003's Good Mourning. The album is worth listening to, and it's weakest moments are nothing to pick apart, but if you are expecting and can't live without the grit and rough edges that put this band on the hot track to seven albums you may want to keep holding out.

This Addiction is available in stores and itunes courtesy of Heart and Skull records under exclusive license to Epitaph Records.

for a good time follow me on twitter @aalguire

-Abe Alguire