‘Nioh 2’ takes the hardcore action RPG to new heights
by Ben Sapet
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by Ben Sapet
On Sept. 14, 2009, Kid Cudi gave the world a vibrant, psychedelic tour of his mind and his lifelong struggle with mental illness. Now, ten years and several albums later, Cudi’s breakout concept album Man on the Moon: End of the Day remains as essential, fresh, and moving as ever.
by Ben Sapet
by Ben Sapet After four years of real development and three E3s, Days Gone has finally arrived to mixed reviews. With its release so fresh, it’s hard to tell where public opinion will settle on the Sony’s latest exclusive. Some found it a buggy trainwreck; some found it lacking compared original promise; still others decided to band together in comment threads and defend Sony from tepid reviews. Days Gone is a fine game but it belongs in back in 2016, where it first made a splash at E3.
There were no duds at Frog Baby Film Festival 2018. From top to bottom, the lineup of short films was full of clever and enjoyable submissions in a wide range of genres and styles. The cowboy westerns, action and horror films, and dystopian comedies made it impossible to know what to expect next, and that’s not even to mention the categories for documentaries and music videos. The only thing these films had in common was that they all showcased the undeniable talent of Ball State’s own home-brewed filmmaking community.
By Ben Sapet On March 25th, 2008, Panic at the Disco (at that point sans exclamation point) released their delightfully strange sophomore album, Pretty. Odd. Despite radically departing from the taut angst of their first album, Panic asserts that they’re “still the same band” on the opening track. Maybe that’s true, but their tone and sound as they say it seem to indicate otherwise. Pretty. Odd. makes room to discuss what constitutes the essence of the band: whether it’s their sonic identity or the musicians themselves. The Pretty. Odd. stage of Panic! at the Disco’s discography (when the punctuation shifted from their name to their album title) drastically stands out from the similar drama and breathy sexuality of their previous and next albums—A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out and Vices & Virtues respectively. If A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out set its stage in a smoky burlesque club doubling as a brothel, Pretty. Odd. takes place in the morning when the debauchers have trudged out and the windows have been opened and the sun’s been let in for the building to breathe. After they brought the shutters back down for Vices & Virtues, Panic! has never returned to the sun-drenched parlor where it’s always nine in the afternoon. That’s the magic of Pretty. Odd. It sits on its grassy hill distant from the Panic!’s cabinet of symbols and motifs, far from the taut moments of conflict that define their discography. Gone are the tense exchanges and trial-by-fire moments of A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out. Instead, Pretty. Odd. finds meaning in vibrant personifications of nature and small doses of reality crouched in fantasy. A psychedelic naturalism and lively effervescence spills from its 15 eclectic tracks. The album begins with an exuberant breaking of the fourth wall, thanking fans for their patience before seamlessly transitioning into the now-iconic piano opening of “Nine In the Afternoon”— the song that sets the stage for the eternal sunlit moment in which the album takes place. Then, on “She’s a Handsome Woman,” the band takes on an orchestra-backed, chugging Rolling Stones sound before promptly switching gears again. “Do You Know What I’m Seeing” juxtaposes a very Panic! at the Disco moment of tumultuous ultimatum with thoughts of wind, weather, and a life with priorities run astray. Over an orchestral ebb and flow of harmonica, acoustic guitar, prominent strings, and distant squawking crows, this is the point at which the album begins to reveal that, as another fourth wall-breaking transition indicates, “things have changed.” Then, with a faint static crackle and an earnest singular acoustic guitar, all the layers are stripped away and Urie’s smooth measured tone seems to melt into its place alongside the music; “Northern Downpour” exhales and, six tracks in, we arrive at the clearing where Panic! finds the mellow mysticism that defines the album. At this point, Pretty. Odd. transcends the '60s rock influences that shape the album’s first half. The lyrics become beautiful abstractions that weave human love and nature into one and relish the sound and emotion of the words rather than the meaning (this lyrical style would go on to become one of the band’s staples—especially on Death of a Bachelor). The instrumentation changes as well, finding mystery and magic in its blend of baroque orchestra and tinges of folk—this made all the richer by production that begs for, if not necessitates, listening with a good pair of headphones. Pretty. Odd. filters thoughts of lost love through a deeply romanticized, often psychedelic connection with nature. Songs like “When the Day Met the Night” feel like a floating daydream in which those memories of lost loves turn into a story of the golden moment “when the moon fell in love with the sun” and the moon’s plea for the sun not to break her heart. Several tracks later, on “She Had the World,” softly callous verses and a tender harpsichord tell the story of the girl (the moon) who “spun the stars on her fingernails,” but “couldn’t ever win me / Because she couldn’t catch me.” As gentle and reassuring as the song may try to be, it doesn’t hide the heartbreak at the end of the idyllic relationship formed in “When the Day Met the Night.” As the album ends and the fantasy begins to dissipate, you’re left with two options: to move on into a world that feels much more like that of A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out and Vices & Virtues or to delve back into the mellow beauty of the place where it's nine in the afternoon and reality only comes in waves. After ten years and a handful of new Panic! albums, Pretty. Odd. still basks in its distant, timeless moment seeing memories form in the clouds.
On March 25th, 2008, Panic at the Disco (at that point sans exclamation point) released their delightfully strange sophomore album, Pretty. Odd. Despite radically departing from the taut angst of their first album, Panic asserts that they’re “still the same band” on the opening track. Maybe that’s true, but their tone and sound as they say it seem to indicate otherwise. Pretty. Odd. makes room to discuss what constitutes the essence of the band: whether it’s their sonic identity or the musicians themselves.
by Ben Sapet In the late 1970s going into 1980s, horror movies changed dramatically as genres shifted from psychological thrillers to slashers, and the piercing string-heavy scores gave way to tense, swirling synthesizers. This change was due in no small part to the now-legendary writer, director, and composer John Carpenter (most famous for Halloween and The Thing) who effectively changed the sound and atmosphere of horror movies. At the same time, theatrically macabre metal acts like Alice Cooper and KISS gave way to the pop-infused glam metal made famous by Mötley Crüe, Poison, and Quiet Riot. The intersection of these movements in film and music inspires Carpenter Brut’s latest album, Leather Teeth. The French synthwave/darkwave artist has not been quiet about the inspiration he’s taken from John Carpenter (his namesake) and metal. The album manages to combine these inspirations to great effect. Leather Teeth is framed as the soundtrack to an imagined 80s coming of age slasher movie of the same name. The release trailer introduces the movie/album’s concept. A freak lab accident transforms a nerdy high-schooler who’s been scorned by the cheerleader he likes and bullied by the football team into a Jekyll and Hyde-esque character. His Jekyll is Leather Teeth, the front man for the ghoulish glam rock band, Leather Patrol. His Hyde is known only as the Beast, a gruesome slasher who, in typical slasher movie fashion, hunts and kills the band’s groupies. (CONTENT WARNING: Gore and sexual content) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0CVqlEwHJrk
One day after Valentine’s Day we were graced with a gift better than any bouquet of flowers or box of chocolates: a new single from Frank Ocean. Ocean’s late-night Valentine’s gift to the world was not a new album, as some had hoped, but a striking cover of “Moon River.”
By Ben Sapet One day after Valentine’s Day we were graced with a gift better than any bouquet of flowers or box of chocolates: a new single from Frank Ocean. Ocean’s late-night Valentine’s gift to the world was not a new album, as some had hoped, but a striking cover of “Moon River.” Where the original Audrey Hepburn recording relies on her breathy whispers tinted with wistful longing to give the ballad its simple, dreamlike beauty, Ocean’s layered vocals and swelling, synth-infused instrumentals lend his version a poignant sense of heartsick contentment. Ocean’s “Moon River” speaks, like much of his discography, to the bittersweet aches of life and love. As usual, Frank Ocean gives us more than we deserve. Our holiday dedicated to love seems mired in the hackney consumerism from online flower deliveries to poorly chosen jewelry and the obligatory chorus of groans from singles everywhere. This year, as the pink candy was discounted and the little red hearts went back in storage, the clouds parted and Frank Ocean descended with a rich, moody song to balm hearts overwhelmed by love found, love lost, and love never reciprocated. As an artist, Frank Ocean continues to evolve and grow without ever letting his new work unravel the old. Every piece seems to pick up where the last left off, changing stylistically but without Ocean ever deviating from his role as the nuanced storyteller and gifted musician at the center of it all. Frank Ocean moved from the sample and reference-heavy memories etched into each song on nostalgia,ULTRA to the vivid imagery, elaborate production, and anthological storytelling of Channel Orange. Four years later, the layers were stripped back with Blonde. Its comparatively minimalist production, inward focus, and aching melancholy made Blonde a startlingly intimate, emotional experience that feels more like connecting to Ocean himself than observing his art. Now, Ocean’s “Moon River” follows the scattered exhaustion at the end of Blonde’s hour-long odyssey of unrequited love with a gentle croon that finally finds a tender satisfaction in remembering the love he felt. We’re lucky to have Frank Ocean as he is: a sensitive recluse who pours his life almost solely into his art. Ocean’s near complete absence from social media and the celebrity news cycle makes the intensely personal nature of his recent art all the more influential. Eschewing the gossip and oversharing that characterizes modern stardom, Ocean’s life exists not in headlines, but in his music. His music isn’t a celebrity confessional that sparks gossip and stokes feuds to light social media ablaze. Frank Ocean uses his talents as a storyteller to share his own story by carefully reconstructing the emotions, moods, and moments that color his life. The jokes about Ocean taking his time and the pleas for more new music from him speak to more than just a restless fan base—we want to share another intimate moment with him in the world his music creates. We haven’t done anything to deserve the intricate beauty Frank Ocean brings into this world, yet Ocean continues to use humanness, with all its raw spots and vulnerabilities, as his muse. As we wait impatiently for his next album, we should be thankful that Frank Ocean has decided to invite us into his life and his music.
You've probably celebrated the spooky season this month by binging the best of what horror has to offer. Sometimes the best is of the campiest sort like the Scream franchise or the nostalgic like Nightmare Before Christmas or Hocus Pocus. No matter what you watch, chances are it's not your first time seeing it. Behind all the familiar names, we found some hidden gems of horror, suspense, and thrills that you probably have never heard of. Here's one of our hipster picks of Halloween:
Most social issue films follow a similar, well-trodden formula. When a narrative is centered around an issue there are certain “musts” involved: it must demonstrate the damage of the issue, create empathy for those effected by the issue and ultimately justify the relevance of the issue. In fulfilling these (and many other) check boxes, social issue films become formulaic almost out of a sense of duty to the subject matter.
As a platform, the internet offers an incredible degree of creative freedom and accessibility for anyone with a camera, internet access and an idea. This openness and low-barrier to entry has given creators a remarkable opportunity to pursue traditionally “unmarketable” ideas, reach audiences and make a living doing so. Why, then, is the winners list from this year’s Streamy Awards peppered with celebrities and productions backed by media-giants?