Category: Pop

This Will Be Funny Later, by Jenny Pentland

This Will Be Funny Later, by Jenny Pentland (Harper, 341 pages)

You may not have heard of Jenny Pentland, but you’ve probably heard of her mother, an actress and comedian by the name of Roseanne Barr. Barr was the star of the eponymous sitcom that aired on ABC for nine years in the ’80s and ’90s, and I have to confess before we start that I’m not sure I ever watched an episode in its entirety.

As such, I’m not much impressed by the fact that Pentland and her siblings — indeed, her entire family — were the models for the messy TV family known to Americans as the Conners. (In addition to Barr, the show made John Goodman, her TV husband, a household name.)

Truth be told, I’m not much impressed by anything that comes out of Hollywood lately.

That said, Pentland has emerged from relative obscurity to write a surprisingly interesting book that doesn’t demand binge-watching Roseanne as a prerequisite.

It is intelligent and scathing, indicting and forgiving, bitter and loving, a large dose of acid with just the right amount of sweet. Pentland’s childhood was, in effect, kind of horrible by all objective standards, meaning the standards of Child Protective Services — and that was before her mom became famous. “Aside from being half-naked and feral, we were also being raised part atheist, part Jewish and part Wiccan, with a touch of paganism and voodoo thrown in.” For years, the family struggled, graduating from trailers to an apartment to a 500-square-foot bungalow. “We may have been climbing the ladder, but we were still on the lower rungs,” she writes. “We could afford name-brand foods now, but we couldn’t afford to spill them. We still had to make our frivolous purchases, like toys, from other people’s lawns.”

Her dad was a trash collector before he became a mail sorter; her mother struggled to assimilate her creative ambitions with the day-to-day drudgery of having three young children in diapers. Meanwhile, Pentland herself showed signs of a comedic streak even as a child: Her growing collection of dolls, some scavenged by her father from other people’s trash, always had something wrong with them, so she took to diagnosing them with various illnesses — polio, sickle cell anemia, debilitating autoimmune diseases. She even made crutches out of pencils for one of the dolls. Yes, a social worker seeing this would have intervened, but in retrospect, since Pentland turned out OK, it’s wicked good black humor.

Humor got scarcer in adolescence. After her mother discovered her talent at making people laugh at open-mic nights, she began spending less time tending to her children and more time tending her career, and Pentland’s weight started to become an issue; like mother, like daughter. (She says her mother once lost a lot of weight with a diet that allowed her one doughnut and one ice cream cone a day, and nothing else.) Barr would be traveling and come home to find out that everyone had gained five pounds from eating fast food. Then they’d all go on a fad diet. Visits to her grandparents’ “house/feedlot” didn’t help. No surprise, Pentland developed an eating disorder that found her at times eating spoonfuls of granulated sugar or plain pats of butter. At one point, to try to keep their children from eating, the parents literally put a padlock on the refrigerator.

Meanwhile, the relationship between Barr and Pentland’s father was catastrophically unraveling, even as Barr’s star was ascending. When they finally got divorced, he lost not only his kids, but his job writing for the TV show. Pentland and her siblings had to deal with all the ordinary fallout from a family disintegrating, while also dealing with reporters and photographers stalking the family. Then Barr got involved with Tom Arnold, a man 10 years younger than she was, and their lives got even messier.

Through her teen years, Pentland was shuttled from weight-loss camps to wilderness survival programs, some of which have now been described as child abuse. At the start of one, participants were given a can of peaches each, but no way to open them. (The staff just watched as the teens tried to smash them.) In the next phase, they were given nothing to eat but raisins, peanuts, raw cornmeal and beans to eat. She writes of being covered with blisters and mosquito bites, and having to spend a night in the woods by herself. She was 15. Later, when she was done with all that, there were the classes at the Scientology Center.

It is much like driving past a car wreck, only in this book we are invited to look at the horror. What is most amazing about this story is that somehow, inexplicably, it seems to end well. Despite a train-wreck of a childhood and adolescence, Pentland turned out amazingly well. She is now the mother of five (none of whom have polio) and she lives a seemingly idyllic life on a farm in Hawaii. Moreover, her relationship with her mother is confoundingly good. She recently told People magazine, “We communicate at all costs. Even if it’s uncomfortable, annoying or the timing is bad, that’s the priority.”

It is unclear how such a good relationship could have emerged out of what came before, and I still have zero desire to watch Roseanne, but This Will Be Funny Later succeeds as a thoughtful and provocative memoir, even it’s title isn’t always true. A

Book Notes

In February, a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of strangling the infernal groundhog.

Winter will be with us for a few more weeks, although there are those who say it won’t be with us in a few more centuries. Porter Fox, for example, asks us to consider The Last Winter (Little Brown & Co., 320 pages), his examination of “the scientists, adventurers, journeymen and mavericks trying to save the world” from climate change.

A former fellow at MacDowell, the artists’ colony in Peterborough, Fox grew up on the coast of Maine and has previously written about skiing and the future of snow, so he’s not new to the topic. Depending on how cold you are right now, this might be a dystopian book, or one of hope.

Continuing the theme, poetry fans will want to check out Winter Recipes from the Collective (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 64 pages) from Louise Glück, an underachiever who has won both a Nobel Prize for literature and a National Book Award and has also been the U.S. poet laureate.

If you prefer short stories, there’s Lily King’s Five Tuesdays in Winter (Grove Press, 240 pages), of which Ann Patchett said, “It filled up every chamber of my heart.”

Skiers will like Winter’s Children, A Celebration of Nordic Skiing (University of Minnesota Press, 448 pages), by Ryan Rodgers, even though it’s mostly about skiing in the Midwest.

And worth dipping back to the past is Winter World: The Ingenuity of Animal Survival (Ecco, 368 pages), which was published in 2003 but is an evergreen discourse on how animals survive through New England winters. It’s by biologist Bernd Heinrich, a professor emeritus at the University of Vermont.

Book Events

Author events

• ERIK LARSON Author presents The Splendid and the Vile. The Music Hall Historic Theater, 28 Chestnut St., Portsmouth. Wed., Feb. 16, 7 p.m. Tickets cost $13.75. Visit themusichall.org or call 436-2400.

• GARY SAMPSON AND INEZ MCDERMOTT Photographer Sampson and art historian McDermott discuss New Hampshire Now: A Photographic Diary of Life in the Granite State. Sat., Feb. 19, 9:45 to 11:45 a.m. Peterborough Town Library, 2 Concord St., Peterborough. Visit monadnockwriters.org.

• HOWARD MANSFIELD Author presents Chasing Eden. Sat., March 19, 9:45 to 11:45 a.m. Peterborough Town Library, 2 Concord St., Peterborough. Visit monadnockwriters.org.

• BECKY SAKELLERIOU AND HENRY WALTERS Becky Sakelleriou presents The Possibility of Red. Henry Walters presents Field Guide A Tempo. Sat., April 16, 9:45 to 11:45 a.m. Peterborough Town Library, 2 Concord St., Peterborough. Visit monadnockwriters.org.

Poetry

• REBECCA KAISER Poet presents Girl as Birch. Virtual event hosted by Gibson’s Bookstore in Concord. Mon., April 11, 7 p.m. Via Zoom. Registration required. Visit gibsonsbookstore.com or call 224-0562.

• DOWN CELLAR POETRY SALON Poetry event series presented by the Poetry Society of New Hampshire. Monthly. First Sunday. Visit poetrysocietynh.wordpress.com.

Book Clubs

• BOOKERY Online. Monthly. Third Thursday, 6 p.m. Bookstore based in Manchester. Visit bookerymht.com/online-book-club or call 836-6600.

• GIBSON’S BOOKSTORE Online, via Zoom. Monthly. First Monday, 5:30 p.m. Bookstore based in Concord. Visit gibsonsbookstore.com/gibsons-book-club-2020-2021 or call 224-0562.

• TO SHARE BREWING CO. 720 Union St., Manchester. Monthly. Second Thursday, 6 p.m. RSVP required. Visit tosharebrewing.com or call 836-6947.

• GOFFSTOWN PUBLIC LIBRARY 2 High St., Goffstown. Monthly. Third Wednesday, 1:30 p.m. Call 497-2102, email elizabethw@goffstownlibrary.com or visit goffstownlibrary.com

• BELKNAP MILL Online. Monthly. Last Wednesday, 6 p.m. Based in Laconia. Email bookclub@belknapmill.org.

• NASHUA PUBLIC LIBRARY Online. Monthly. Second Friday, 3 p.m. Call 589-4611, email information@nashualibrary.org or visit nashualibrary.org.

Album Reviews 22/02/10

We Are The World, Clay Stones [2022 Reissue] (Give/Take Records)

Today I learned that Madonna wasn’t the only artist Lady Gaga stole song ideas from, and that’s about it. An alleged selling point of this “seminal” album from the Los Angeles electro-pop quartet (which, for clarity’s sake, had nothing whatsoever to do with the 1985 famine-relief charity single) is that it was Gaga’s “favorite album” in 2010, thus its 2022 reissue marks a milestone of something or other. I suppose I’ll buy that, given that I just can’t call Gaga right now to vet all this rubbish for myself, so I’ll play along. It’s mainly a ringtone-centric rehashing of the eclectic cultural appropriation Moby hawked with his 1999 Play album; in that vein, the Pitchfork guy basically wrote this off as a ripoff of Knife, which is fine with me, as maybe the Moby reference is a bit dated (you should see my face right now, panicking at the thought of committing such a colossal foul-up). But, yeah, there are unintelligible Baptist preacher-ish chants and creepy voodoo-priestess `ocal lines going on here, all marinating in thick rhythmic samples, and sure, it all sounds like it could have inspired Gaga circa 2010. It’s OK I guess, and if you’ve read this far you have my sympathies. B-

Charming Disaster, Our Lady of Radium (self-released)

Most recent LP from the Brooklyn, N.Y.-based goth-folk duo comprising Ellia Bisker and Jeff Morris. She plays ukulele, he guitar, so like anything else they’ve done, it’s a novelty record intended for convention nerds who covet overdone eye makeup, fishnet stockings and vintage weirdness, and for those things I do thank them. The two are really great at welding their voices into fascinating harmonies in the service of songs dedicated to steampunk-ish themes, in this case, Marie Curie. They’re a mishmash of black-clad-but-innocent tropes, paying obeisance to the likes of Edward Gorey and Tim Burton, but given that they’re from the Boroughs, this ain’t no foolin’ around. They strum and busk, busk and strum, warbling on about the subject and going into the deeper ends, like a Curie séance they attended. They’re nothing like Dresden Dolls, so don’t think that; more like an opening act for The Cure at an Addams Family festival. She sounds like Siousxie Sioux when she wants to, if that helps sell you. B-

PLAYLIST

• O, what artistic marvels shall we experience on Feb. 11, when the usual Friday delivery of new albums drops into our music stores and Pandoras and illegal torrent streams? Uh-oh, gang, looky there, it’s Pearl Jam’s singer/surfer Eddie Vedder, gone solo, with a new album called Earthling! LOL, remember when he put out that album Ukulele Songs in 2011, and the only problem with it was that it was a bunch of songs literally played on the ukulele? Boy I do, and I remember that all the annoying hipster bands were playing ukulele around that time too, like I couldn’t just sit and watch a stupid car commercial without some twirp playing a ukulele in the background. But that’s finally over with, so we can cut to now, and this new album, his fourth, which features a single titled “Long Way,” I can’t wait! But wait, ack, ack, what’s this, is he trying to be Tom Petty? This sounds like some strummy nonsense song for bored Uber drivers to play on the radio when they’re driving grandmothers to casinos. Come on, Eddie Vedder, what happened to those stupid lumberjack shirts and an entire generation getting nothing accomplished other than oh, I dunno, making people afraid of Courtney Love? I mean, what happened?

• Ha ha, look, guys, it’s super-old Canadian thrash metal weenies Voivod, with a new album called Synchro Anarchy, that you can buy on Friday when the clock strikes midnight! What’s that? No, I know you won’t, I’m saying you could buy it. If you’re in your 40s, maybe you remember when Voivod was an actual force to be reckoned with in the heavy metal scene, because they had good drawings of monsters on their album covers or whatever the attraction was aside from their (really stupid) band logo, I forget. But whatever, outta my way man, I have to go to YouTube and listen to this new song, “Planet Eaters,” and give you my expert review! Ha ha, look at this video, there’s like an evil Pikachu ball and some other poorly drawn monster-whatever things in a swirling hypnotic mush, and they’re trying to sound like Primus. Hm, now it’s trying to be like Guns N’ Roses, and it’s boring, let’s bag this and just continue.

• Oh, here we go. In its continuing, moronically conceived mission to confuse its readers as much as it can, Pitchfork Media described “Cisgender,” the new single from Shamir, as “Prince masquerading as Camille,” failing to remember that most people who have actual busy lives were never aware that the very existence of Prince’s (unreleased, mind you!) Camille album is nothing more than a weird little footnote to His Purpleness’s career. It annoys me that I had to look that up; the writer could have simply spent a handful of words to explain to their bewildered readers that the Camille concept was to present Prince as a female version of himself, but whatever, I suppose the comparison is more or less apt, given that Shamir’s voice is, as you probably know unless you’re older, very feminine. His new album, Heterosexuality, is on the way and will feature the aforementioned tune, a bizarre noise ballad reminiscent of M83 trying to be epic a la “Skin of the Night”; it’s cool, more or less.

• To close out the week, let’s look at indie-folk band Big Thief’s new one, Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You before I fall asleep from all this nonsense. Hm, they wear farmer overalls; I knew someone was still buying those things. The single “Time Escaping” has some weird organic-sounding percussion driving a decent hayloft-pop idea, this is OK I suppose.

If you’re in a local band, now’s a great time to let me know about your EP, your single, whatever’s on your mind. Let me know how you’re holding yourself together without being able to play shows or jam with your homies. Send a recipe for keema matar. Message me on Twitter (@esaeger) or Facebook (eric.saeger.9).

At the Sofaplex 22/02/03

C’mon C’mon (R)

Joaquin Phoenix, Gaby Hoffmann.

Phoenix plays Johnny, a man suddenly thrown into the deep end of parenting, in the sweet and lovely C’mon C’mon, a film written and directed by Mike Mills (of 20th Century Women and Beginners fame).

Johnny finds himself suddenly charged with looking after 9-year-old nephew Jesse (an excellently natural Woody Norman, capturing kid oddballness without turning into a writer’s caricature of a child) when Jesse’s mom, Johnny’s sister Viv (Hoffmann), has to go from L.A. to Oakland to take care of Jesse’s dad, Paul (Scoot McNairy), who is suffering from mental illness.

Johnny and Viv haven’t been in each other’s lives much lately — they clashed over the care of their recently deceased mother, over Johnny’s unasked-for opinions about Viv’s relationship with Paul, over basic sibling stuff. But Viv is desperate and Johnny is willing to show up so she leaves Johnny to deal with Jesse — his Saturday morning blasting of opera, his odd tendency to pretend to be an orphan, his extreme (but, like, totally familiar to any parent) reaction to having sugar, his kid tendencies to not stay put. But also, his sudden pointed but thought-provoking questions, his delightful imagination, his charming goofiness, his curiosity at new things (like radio producer Johnny’s sound equipment and kid-interviewing project). So, you know, all the frustrating, wonderful, heartwarming-and-breaking stuff about kids.

The longer Viv has to help Paul, the more Johnny brings Jesse into his life — first to New York City and later to New Orleans, making sure he does basic things like brush teeth and do homework (ha, remotely — you don’t see much of that or this would go from a heartwarming look at parenting to a total nightmare horror story so fast).

Phoenix gives possibly his most relatable, most open and human performance as Johnny, a man who knows how out of his depth he is but doesn’t stop trying for Jesse and is aware that this terrifying and difficult scenario is his sister’s, like, Tuesday. Hoffman also gives a great performance as a woman trying to mom from afar while taking care of her co-parent (and ex, I think), largely to save her son’s dad — and to protect her son from the most difficult aspects of his father’s illness.

This doesn’t sound like the most uplifting subject matter, but it is presented with such grace and care, with such a real-world collision-of-fear-and-awesomeness look at parenting, that C’mon C’mon is just a delight. A Available for rent and in theaters.

I Came All This Way to Meet You, by Jami Attenberg

I Came All This Way to Meet You, by Jami Attenberg (Ecco, 263 pages)

It is apparently the fashion to write a memoir about writing after having achieved at least some modest success. Maybe this isn’t new and goes all the way back to Montaigne, but the trend seems to have accelerated after Anne Lamott’s ever popular Bird by Bird, published in 1994.

Into this space enters Jami Attenberg, a novelist of acclaim whose body of work includes The Middlesteins, her 2012 portrait of a family obsessed with eating; 2017’s All Grown Up (given a B+ here), and most recently, 2019’s All This Could Be Yours.

In I Came All This Way to Meet You, subtitled “writing myself home,” Attenberg gets personal in a refreshingly candid manner. It’s not so much a book as it is a conversation, the sort that occurs at a bar after strangers have had a couple of shots.

It’s a conversation that takes place during the pandemic; Attenberg peppers the memoir with mentions of life during Covid-19 and she occasionally touches on ongoing social issues. But it’s mainly the story of an ordinary woman who got tired of all the ordinariness in her life and set out to build something different. As Attenberg writes in the opening, in which she bluntly summarizes the first 20 years of her working life, most of her jobs were essentially bringing other people’s ideas into being.

“Eventually I thought: What about my ideas? When do I own them?” she writes. “And once I realized that, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I could not stay where I was any longer.”

In a perfect world, an aspiring writer who comes to this conclusion would then find an oceanside cottage in which to write her first book, ensconced there rent-free except for the task of walking someone’s dog. And for Attenberg, it was in fact a perfect world, at least in this regard.

After she spent decades working invisible, low-paying jobs — to include temping, waitressing, typing, blogging — a supportive friend helped set her up in this space, and Attenberg started bringing her characters to life. But that was the extent of her perfect world. It was a hard slog to get to where she is today, an “Author with a capital A,” and she shares her remembrances of this unglamorous life, much of which involved arduous road trips in an old car, trying to get people to buy her books when people didn’t want them — including, at one point, her publisher, who dumped her after her first few books didn’t sell well.

In many ways it would be hard to find a more unappealing depiction of a novelist’s life, from driving alone in a white-out in Wyoming to being booed at a literary festival when she was introduced as being from Brooklyn.

At one point she says this about a book tour: “I do my event. A Jewish event, a panel of four authors. I sell five books. Thanks, Jews. Another car to the airport, two hours before my flight. And there I sit.”

That paragraph, in all its pith, demonstrates precisely why this memoir is so engrossing. Attenberg is completely uninhibited; you never know what she is going to say next. The writing is as choppy as the sea, and as unpredictable, as is her life story, which she unspools gradually.

As much as the memoir is about Attenberg, it’s also about her friends. Despite being a generally anxious person, she has the enviable talent of finding and cultivating friends, such as the Alaska mom she met in Guatemala when she was doing travel writing — a woman who travels internationally for a month by herself every year — or the younger Italian novelist she spotted at a literary festival wearing a black Victorian gown. (“I immediately thought: Her, I must know.”)

On the subject of friendship, Attenberg waxes philosophical, writing: “The thing about bad friends is you never realize when you’re being one until it’s too late. Forgiveness and understanding? Not in this economy.”

She also brings that candor to writing about her romantic relationships. One, undertaken after a solitary trip to Sicily during which a restaurant refused to seat her because she was alone, was particularly promising: “No children, no desire for them whatsoever. No old marriages rotting in the past. We both owned our own homes. We both had flexible schedules. He even promised to quit smoking for me.”

There may have been no children, but a beautiful essay grew out of this relationship, about their trip to a “bone chapel” in Portugal — Capela dos Ossos, circa the 16th century, built using the remains of more than 5,000 people. Visiting it, Attenberg writes, she was “in a state of thrall to the bones.”

“Everything was dead … and yet it felt so alive to me at the same time. It was designed for thought. Alive and dead, stories everywhere. Thousands of possibilities, thousands of stories. The bones had been brought together in this space, the bones would never be alone. They have each other, I thought. And all of us, visiting them, every day.”

Bones became a metaphor for her life, and ultimately for the relationship as well. She is a work in progress, as we all are, but just is more talented than other people in lassoing the mess into art.

To call Attenberg an original thinker is an understatement. Her words crackle like an overbuilt fire, and whether or not you’ve read her work previously, this thoughtful memoir is worth a look. A

Book Notes

With Valentine’s Day coming up, you’re probably scouring the shelves of your local independent bookseller looking for the perfect book to give to your significant other. If you’re not, you should be. Chocolate is gone in a week. The perfect book may outlast your relationship.

You can buy love poems, of course — a new title is Love by Night (192 pages, Andrews McMeel) by SK Williams. But these are not to be confused with poems about love, such as Please Love Me at My Worst(Andrews McMeel, 144 pages), last year’s collection by Michaela Angemeer.

You can buy books about great relationships other people had — such as Dear Scott, Dearest Zelda (Bloomsbury, 432 pages), the story of F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald’s marriage in their own words. Or books that promise to help you have a great relationship of your own, such as Fierce Love, Creating a Love That Lasts — One Conversation at a Time (Thomas Nelson, 240 pages).

Or you can forget the cheesy sentimental stuff and give your significant other a book about love that isn’t really about love, but just has love in the title and is a cool and interesting book. To wit: Love Poems (for Anxious People) by John Kenney, known for his writing in The New Yorker and also for two previous books, Love Poems for Married People and Love Poems for People With Children. It’s from G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 112 pages. With poems titled “Here comes someone whose name I should know” and “Am I meditating yet?” these are not really love poems, but that’s kind of the point.

I Love You But I’ve Chosen Darkness (Riverhead, 304 pages) by Claire Vaye Watkins is a novel released last fall that’s probably more of a wry gift for your BFF when you exchange cards about how much you hate Valentine’s Day. But we can’t resist the title. Premise: Woman with postpartum depression leaves her baby and husband and goes all Thelma and Louise without the Louise. It’s widely described as hilarious.

The Love Songs of W.E.B. Du Bois (Harper, 816 pages) by Honoree Fanonne Jeffers was an Oprah’s pick last year and Barack Obama said it was one of his favorite books. It’s a novel that reads like poetry and it is not actually about Du Bois, the late Civil Rights activist, historian and sociologist, but his words are interspersed throughout.

But there are limits to how edgy you can be when selecting a book with love in the title. The ‘I Love My Instapot’ Anti-Inflammatory Diet Recipe Book: Not recommended. If that’s your only choice, go with the candy.

Book Events

Author events

• ERIK LARSON Author presents The Splendid and the Vile. The Music Hall Historic Theater, 28 Chestnut St., Portsmouth. Wed., Feb. 16, 7 p.m. Tickets cost $13.75. Visit themusichall.org or call 436-2400.

• GARY SAMPSON AND INEZ MCDERMOTT Photographer Sampson and art historian McDermott discuss New Hampshire Now: A Photographic Diary of Life in the Granite State. Sat., Feb. 19, 9:45 to 11:45 a.m. Peterborough Town Library, 2 Concord St., Peterborough. Visit monadnockwriters.org.

• HOWARD MANSFIELD Author presents Chasing Eden. Sat., March 19, 9:45 to 11:45 a.m. Peterborough Town Library, 2 Concord St., Peterborough. Visit monadnockwriters.org.

• BECKY SAKELLERIOU AND HENRY WALTERS Becky Sakelleriou presents The Possibility of Red. Henry Walters presents Field Guide A Tempo. Sat., April 16, 9:45 to 11:45 a.m. Peterborough Town Library, 2 Concord St., Peterborough. Visit monadnockwriters.org.

Poetry

• ROB AZEVEDO Poet reads from his new book of poetry, Don’t Order the Calamari. The Bookery, 844 Elm St., Manchester. Thurs., Feb. 3, 6 p.m. Visit bookerymht.com.

• REBECCA KAISER Poet presents Girl as Birch. Virtual event hosted by Gibson’s Bookstore in Concord. Mon., April 11, 7 p.m. Via Zoom. Registration required. Visit gibsonsbookstore.com or call 224-0562.

Book Clubs

• BOOKERY Online. Monthly. Third Thursday, 6 p.m. Bookstore based in Manchester. Visit bookerymht.com/online-book-club or call 836-6600.

• GIBSON’S BOOKSTORE Online, via Zoom. Monthly. First Monday, 5:30 p.m. Bookstore based in Concord. Visit gibsonsbookstore.com/gibsons-book-club-2020-2021 or call 224-0562.

Album Reviews 22/02/03

Power Paladin, With The Magic Of Windfyre Steel (Atomic Fire Records)

You know, I don’t think I’ve seen the words “Reykjavík, Iceland” in years, or at least since there was talk of the city hosting a biannual Olympics. Oh wait, though, that’s every year, including this one. But before I tangent all my allotted words away, this power metal band is from there, actual Iceland, and, as I fully expected, their childlike enthusiasm is off the charts. I’m sure I’d get along with them personally; not that I’m a Dungeons & Dragons guy, but I’ve never not gotten along with anyone who’s into those dragons-and-elves games, a passion that drives these five or six or however many guys. They’ve confessed to being fans of Dio, Iron Maiden, Hammerfall and Rhapsody, so they obviously have no shame, and that’s refreshing in its way; the true test, though, is the music of course. Toward that, we start with “Kraven The Hunter,” which recalls Motley Crue’s “Kickstart My Heart,” then move to the Savatage-ish “Righteous Fury,” and the title track, a pomp-blasted hit of epic metal. It’s all super tight, and look at how cute this all is; I can’t hate these guys at all, sorry. A

Martin Wind/New York Bass Quartet, Air (Laika Records)

Every time I think I’ve heard it all, something bubbles up from this massive pit of promotional albums and makes me go, “OK, another country heard from.” Picture it: four guys who all play double bass (i.e., the upright acoustic bass guitar), but instead of laying down the low lines for four different bands, they’re in one place, jamming to familiar tunes from various genres. If you need some sort of certificate of authority for this one, Rufus Reid thinks it’s great, as does 84-year-old bass icon Ron Carter, so all that’s really to be done here is listen to some of it. It starts off with the title track, two or three of the players bowing at the high end in a thing that threatens for a second to droop into the maudlin strains of “Whiter Shade Of Pale” but instead turns into J.S. Bach’s immortal ‘Suite No. 3 In D Major: Air’ (you heard it in the movie Se7en, when Morgan Freeman is in the library). It’s an eerie thing to hear, but these supremely talented guys make it sound natural, rather cello-ish. Return To Forever drummer Lenny White also helps turn that arrangement on its head, and later helps to nail down a cover of Weather Report’s “Birdland.” Quite the gold nugget for eclectic tastes here. A

PLAYLIST

• Feb. 4 is here, can you feel the madness creeping in, on little tiny creepy feet? It’s frickin’ freezin’, frantic fam, I hate everything about it, and my seasonal affective disorder (or whatever it’s called, I just don’t like being cold) has me breaking down into teary madness every morning, just waking up and realizing that I still live in the North Pole and this will never end, ever. Other than that I am fine, I hope that you are well as well, as we examine the “slate” (I really hate seeing that word being used by a writer when “set” or “list” wouldn’t tick off half their audience) of new albums that’ll be released on the 4th in the hopes that someone will have one too many drinks and accidentally buy one. Hopefully no one accidentally buys the new album Pompeii from official crazy lady Cate Le Bon, because when she was writing it she was grappling “with existence, resignation and faith. I felt culpable for the mess but it smacked hard of the collective guilt imposed by religion and original sin.” Ha ha, she’s like Bjork but in clown makeup and outfits because she’s so edgy. She told the utterly enthralled, neckbearded writer from Pitchfork Media the album “was written and recorded in a quagmire of unease. Solo. In a time warp. In a house I had a life in 15 years ago.” Yes, Cate Le Bon, but what we really want to know is what snacks did you have? Probably nothing good, I’ll bet, and that’s why she lives a lonely fourth-dimension existence, being weird, all because she doesn’t have tasty shelled pistachios or chocolate cream pies. That’s basically all I eat now, someone should text her that diet tip, but in the meantime let’s see if my stomach can handle the new Cate Le Bon single “Running Away,” I’ll bet it can’t. Hold on, this isn’t so bad, it’s like a poor imitation of Siouxsie And The Banshees, but really, that’s what every band should be doing now, trying to imitate Siouxsie. Every once in a while a decent-enough melody trickles in, then disappears again into the sloppy imitation-’80s muck. Ok, this thing’s getting on my nerves, let’s just go to the next thingie.

• Oh terrific, can we just go back to Fake Siouxsie so I don’t have to listen to anything from Time Skiffs, the new LP from Animal Collective? I mean, all you ever needed to say in an Animal Collective CD review was “Cool fractals” and that was really it, although yes, they changed things up after the hipster crowd decided to abandon the band to the trash folder of college-rock history, so maybe there’s something worthwhile on this new “slab” (another word I hate to see used in a music review, because it makes the writer sound like they’re from the 1950s). I mean, it could happen, so let’s check out their new song “Prester John.” It’s noisy and creepy and slow. Wait, I get it, they’ve obviously been listening to a lot of Massive Attack, because this is just an edgy, grungy ripoff of “Teardrop,” which you know as the opening theme to the old TV show House. Next.

• OK, here we go, it’s a new album from edgy/gross/awesome metal guys, Korn, called Requiem! I’ll bet there’s no way I’ll have anything bad to say about their new tune “Start The Healing.” Whoa, bouncy beat here, my foot is already tapping, and — wait, this is some pretty basic nu-metal, almost kind of pop-punk, or like Tool. What the — oh, whatever, it’s Korn. They’ve earned the right to suck.

• We’ll end the week’s nonsense with indie-punk girl Mitski, because she’s awesome, so “Working for the Knife,” from her new album, Laurel Hell, must be awesome too. Wow, there’s like cowboy guitar in there, and it’s trippy but high-class, your girlfriend will probably like it. You should probably marry her, by the way. — Eric W. Saeger

If you’re in a local band, now’s a great time to let me know about your EP, your single, whatever’s on your mind. Let me know how you’re holding yourself together without being able to play shows or jam with your homies. Send a recipe for keema matar. Message me on Twitter (@esaeger) or Facebook (eric.saeger.9).

At the Sofaplex 22/01/27

Hotel Transylvania 4: Transformania(PG)

Voices of Andy Samberg, Selena Gomez.

Also voices of Kathryn Hahn, Jim Gaffigan, Steve Buscemi, Molly Shannon, David Spade, Keegan-Michael Key and Fran Drescher. Adam Sandler, who voiced main character Dracula for the first three of these movies, has passed the microphone on to voice doppelganger Brian Hull.

The movie gives you the gist even if you’ve never seen any of these Hotel Transylvania movies before (or, if, like me, you’ve definitely seen some of them but can’t remember much of anything about them): Drac and his vampire daughter Mavis (voice of Gomez), her human husband Johnny (Andy Samberg) and their son Dennis (voice of Asher Blinkoff) run a monster-serving hotel in a creepy Transylvanian castle that does such a brisk business Drac employs many a zombie and ghoul. Newly married to human Ericka Van Helsing (voice of Kathryn Hahn), great-granddaughter of The Van Helsing (voice of Gaffigan), Drac has been planning to officially turn the hotel over to Mavis and Johnny. But Johnny is such a stone cold goofus that Drac backs out at the last minute, telling Johnny that it’s because the property can only be passed to another monster. Johnny, desperate to truly be part of the family, uses Van Helsing’s monster-ray to turn himself into a monster. When Drac attempts to turn Johnny back into a human, he accidentally turns Frankenstein, the mummy and Wayne the werewolf human, creating all sorts of people who need to be returned to their former form — including Drac himself, who finds himself becoming human and losing the power to turn into a bat mid-fall.

Because the McGuffin-ray is broken in the process, Drac and Johnny set off on a quest to find a crystal that will repair it and set things right. What they don’t know when they head off is that, while Drac can eventually adjust to being human with some sunscreen and a shower, Johnny is in danger of having his monsterness constantly mutate until he becomes a giant, mindless, brightly colored destructo-saur.

If you have Amazon Prime, you have access to this movie for free — which is probably its principal selling point. This movie doesn’t feature nearly enough monster hijinks and physical comedy and is way too talky and focused on the plot of Drac handing off his hotel. (I’m sure there’s a joke in here about this being Succession for kids but with literal monsters instead of psychological monsters, but this movie doesn’t really warrant that much cleverness.) I don’t think my younger kids care about father-in-law/son-in-law relationships and they probably would have liked more with the swarm of werewolf puppies and the comedy based on the Blob. But this movie isn’t, like, actively offensive or particularly violent and I think my older kid would watch this if it were the only thing available or if it was the alternative to some kind of chore, so, C? Available via Amazon Prime.

Munich: The Edge of War (PG-13)

George MacKay, Jannis Niewöhner.

Jeremy Irons also stars in this adaptation of a Robert Harris novel which is surprisingly suspenseful despite the fact that it is about two guys running around in 1938 not preventing World War II. I mean, spoiler alert? Not really, and that’s kind of an interesting creative challenge when you set up your characters to complete a mission the larger outcome of which is already known to have failed.

Here, we get our spy thriller tension in part from the fact that British translator Hugh Legat (MacKay) is rather spectacularly not a spy. He seems like sort of an aide to prime minister Neville Chamberlain (Irons), who is sent on a delegation going to peace talks in Munich in part because years earlier he went to college with German Paul von Hartman (Niewöhner). A similar mid-level government type, Paul worms his way into the German delegation by serving as a translator for Hitler (Ulrich Matthes). Paul is part of a small group of German government types who think that, if Hitler illegally invades Czechoslovakia, they’ll be able to get the support of the German military and oust Hitler from power. Instead of invading, Hitler agrees to first meet with the British and French and his ally Italy to discuss a means of avoiding war — or, as it plays out here, a means by which the other countries can let him take chunks of Czechoslovakia without them having to intervene.

But Paul has different plans. He wants to use the conference as a cover for passing documents to Hugh, his old Oxford buddy, that prove that Czechoslovakia is just the beginning and that Hitler is planning a war of conquest throughout Europe. He gets a guy to get a guy to get Hugh included in the British delegation so that they can work together to get the documents to the right people and prevent the countries from appeasing Hitler. But while Paul, a former ardent Hitler-supporter who has become disillusioned with the Nazis, is used to sneaking around, Hugh, just a guy who regularly gets yelled at by both his boss and his neglected wife (Jessica Brown Findlay), is not great at skulduggery. For example, he “hides” important papers in a desk drawer in his hotel (why not staple them to the door, Hugh) and is so bad at following Paul without being seen that they might as well be holding hands and singing.

I wish the movie had played that aspect — Paul as the weary citizen of a police state, Hugh as a neophyte — up a bit more, because it did help ramp up the tension. Weighing in at over two hours, I think the movie could have lost some of the side stories and focused on a streamline tale of two men trying to desperately do some real world-saving behind the scenes of some hot-air diplomacy. We take a lot of detours into Lenya (Liv Lisa Fries), a mutual college friend who had formerly been together with Paul; Hugh’s shaky marriage and stalled career, and Paul’s relationship with his assistant, Helen (Sandra Huller). Shaved down by about half an hour and more singularly focused on the diplomacy-spy angle, Munich: The Edge of War could have been a more energetic noir-ish suspense film. As it is, it is occasionally pokey but watchable history drama fare. C+ Available on Netflix.

Swan Song (R)

Mahershala Ali, Naomie Harris.

Also Glenn Close and Awkwafina.

In the cleanly designed, tech-filled future, Cameron (Ali) is terminally ill but hasn’t yet told his family, including wife Poppy (Harris). This gives him a rare opportunity: He can tell them about his condition and live out his final days with them or he can essentially download his memories and personality into a healthy but otherwise identical clone who will slip into his life. Either way, Cameron won’t be there to see his young son and the baby Poppy is currently pregnant with grow up, but a Cameron can be there for them.

Dr. Jo Scott (Close) is the doctor performing this strange, secret procedure at what feels like a beautiful, modernist spa out in the woods where Cameron also meets Kate (Awkwafina), a woman who is essentially waiting for her end while her replacement has been living her life. His wife is just getting over a prolonged period of grief over the death of her brother and has previously stated that she would be happy to have such a real version of her mother back, especially if she didn’t know it wasn’t her “real” mother. These are Cameron’s arguments for going through with the swap. But he is also bothered by the deceit and the loss of his life before his death by basically giving it away to someone else.

Most of this movie is Ali’s performance and, as you’d expect, he gives a solid one, one that allows for enough suspension of disbelief about the sci-fi aspects so that you can swim around in the bigger picture life questions with his characters. This isn’t some twisty thriller; the movie is more concerned with the internal journey Cameron takes and as that kind of contemplative tale it is engrossing. A Available on Apple TV+.

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