Marillion's Live From Cadogan Hall: Much More Than Just Another Acoustic Show

Music Review: Marillion - Live From Cadogan Hall (2 CD/2 DVD)

Marillion's third live concert DVD in recent years (dating back to 2005's Marbles On The Road) is a radical departure from both of its predecessors.

Filmed on the final night of the Less Is More tour — which took its name from Marillion's 2009 album of the same name, and featuring stripped down recreations of previously released songs from the progressive rock band's vast back catalog — Live From Cadogan Hall is still much more than the simple acoustic concert document you might think.

There is a whole lot more going on here than your standard two hours featuring a bunch of guys sitting on stools strumming folk guitars, and as a concert film, Live From Cadogan Hall leaves you with the inescapable feeling of having just witnessed something quite special.



The cathedral like ambiance of London's prestigious Cadogan Hall also makes for an appropriately elegant backdrop — especially during this DVD's many overhead shots showing a giant Christmas tree perched high above the band (the concert was filmed back in December 2009).

One of the first things you notice about this concert though, is the number of diverse, unusual instruments being played by the musicians on the stage.

These are things you wouldn't normally associate with a rock concert at all. There are xylophones, glockenspiels, dulcimers, celestes — there is even an autoharp which keyboardist Mark Kelly at one point claims to have built himself.

All manner of percussion instruments — bells, chimes, wooden blocks and the like — are also prevalent in this concert. They are not only played by monster drummer Ian Mosley either, but rather at one point or another by all five members of Marillion.

The thing is, all of these exotic instruments serve as far more than just window dressing for this concert. Marillion make fabulous use of all of them throughout, showing off their musical chops in ways that are only hinted at in the more grandiose progressive rock recordings the band is so much better known for.

From the oriental motifs of "Interior Lulu" to the lighter shades provided by Kelly's xylophone on "Hard As Love," this album is above all else a showcase for Marillion as a band of fabulous musicians. Even vastly underrated bassist Pete Trewavas gets a moment to shine here, turning in a series of fabulous sounding runs on "The Space," rumbling just underneath the tandem of Kelly's jazzy keys and Steve Rothery's gorgeous guitar.

Speaking of Rothery, although the guitarist is better known for the soaring, Pink Floydian heights he normally reaches with Marillion, his guitar work here is no less worthy. With the smaller arrangements heard here, Rothery is able to display a more subdued, but no less powerful and intricate side of his considerable guitar prowess. Lest anyone worry though, Rothery finally cuts loose with a ripping solo on the second disc closer "Three Minute Boy."

The setlist on Live From Cadogan Hall is also one sure to please Marillion fans. In addition to the entire Less Is More album — including new versions of everything from their earliest songs after Steve "H" Hogarth replaced original vocalist Fish in 1989 ("The Space") to more recent material from the group's 2008 double-disc Happiness Is The Road ("Wrapped Up In Time") — the second disc includes new takes on songs like "You're Gone," Marillion's near hit from the 2004 prog opus Marbles.

There aren't really any extras to speak of on this DVD, and that's okay. The 127 minutes of exquisite music here should be plenty enough to satisfy fans of the band, and for anyone willing to gamble twenty bucks, perhaps make them a few new ones as well.

The DTS Digital Sound Mix captures every musically nuanced highlight of this great concert (and there are plenty of them). The high definition video, while shot rather simply, is tasteful and straight forward, concentrating on the musicians onstage as well it should.

Marillion's Live From Cadogan Hall will be out on double disc DVD and Blu-ray on March 29, 2009, as well as on a double disc audio CD.

This article was first published at Blogcritics Magazine

Worst Neil Young Video Ever? You Decide...



Doing research for a book on Neil Young, unfortunately means also reacquainting yourself with some of his more embarrassing albums, such as 1986's particularly vapid Landing On Water. Here, "Touch The Night," a song that when played live with Crazy Horse circa 1984, could actually be mistaken for a slightly less great retread of "Like A Hurricane," is reduced to a typically overproduced, overdubbed eighties mess.

The drums are particularly awful (even though they are played by the great Steve Jordan). As for the video, well, get ready for Neil Young as Clark Kent.

But wait. I take it all back. This lovely little ditty, taken from the same album, may be the actual worst Neil Young video:

To V Or Not To V: All Hail Your New Reptilian Gods, Puny Humans

In case you missed it — and if the ratings for this season are any indication, most of you did — ABC wrapped up the second season of its once much-ballyhooed alien invasion series V this past Tuesday.

Officially, Tuesday's two months too early "Mother's Day" episode was only the season finale for this reboot of the eighties sci-fi cult classic. But few outside its most optimistic fans expect the show to be back next fall. In many ways, V was doomed from the start — a combination of both classic mishandling by the network (was the show ever around for more than a few weeks in between hiatuses?), and its own initial failure to live up to the enormous wave of hype preceding its 2009 debut.

Still, for pure balls alone, you've really got to hand it to these guys. If this really is the end of the road for V, then they have gone out on a full head of blood, guts, skin and cheese. In one of the more audacious risks ever taken on behalf of a show facing almost certain cancellation, the writers and producers of V threw the television equivalent of a last second, fourth and long, Hail Mary pass on Tuesday night.

Major characters, including lizard-loving teen drip Tyler, alien baby daddy Ryan, and repentant eighties alien Queen Bitch Diana (Jane Badler) all got killed off in the final thirty minutes (Diana's lizard spear through the gut was a particularly bloody scene for network TV). And in perhaps the ultimate "if we're going down, were taking you with us" move, the writers then proceeded to write the rest of us humans out of the show. As it turns out we weren't conquered by superior technology or military might at all, but rather by the "bliss" of alien lizard super crack.

Leading up to this, V likewise went for broke in trying to match the cheese of the original eighties series. They brought back original star Marc Singer — now sporting a Ming The Merciless Fu Manchu to boot!

There was even a brief eighties sliding split screen segueway from Tyler's death by rough alien sex aboard the mothership, to a "meanwhile, back on Earth" shot with Tyler's Mom Erika (Elizabeth Mitchell) being kidnapped by black hooded thugs. Earlier in the episode, a different set of kidnappers wore grey alien masks. Nice touch.

But there were also holes big enough to drive a fleet of saucers through. Like how for instance, does Ryan manage to sneak out of a fascist tent revival meeting full of lizard converts after her amphibious majesty Queen Anna demands their worship on bended knee?

Or, in V's biggest reveal, how does a full bodied, fifteen foot high lizard baby turn into a manufactured by skin, human clone of the shorter, much more petite Princess Lisa — who is still convincing enough to seduce the hapless romantic Tyler? Well, okay. The kid is dumb as a box of rocks and twice as gullible. Still, that is some serious skin shrinkage.

Cheese factor aside, this go-for-broke attitude is exactly what the finale needed if this is really it. Despite being mishandled by the network nearly every step of the way (and following an over-hyped, but underwhelming start), V really was starting to get good this year. One has to wonder if a third year might have brought a breakout season.

As it stands, V concludes with enough wide open spaces to fill several Grand Canyons. It could always still get picked up on cable by a network like SyFy or Chiller. Otherwise though, they have ended things up with an audaciously spectacular F.U.

All hail your new Reptilian Gods. Puny Humans.

This article was first published at Blogcritics Magazine.

Bruce Hart's Pro-Wrestling Tell All Puts You In The Middle Of The Ring

Book Review: Straight From The Hart by Bruce Hart

Ever since the mafia like code of silence governing the secrets of professional wrestling known as "kayfabe" was broken once and for all back in the nineties, pro-wrestling insiders have been tripping all over themselves to publish their own "tell-all" books about the sports entertainment business.

Some of these books, such as Mick Foley's Have A Nice Day have proven to be both entertaining, and quite revealing. Many others however, written by such names as Hulk Hogan, Eric Bischoff and Ric Flair, have more often than not yielded little in the way of previously unknown details, and in a few cases have even proven to be more than a little self serving.

Bruce Hart's Straight From The Hart falls somewhere in the middle of these two extremes. On the one hand, this memoir of Hart's life as both a wrestling performer and "booker" (for his father Stu Hart's Stampede Wrestling promotion) offers a fascinating inside look at the pro-wrestling business, with all of its colorful cast of characters and equally cutthroat behind the scenes politics.

At the same time, Hart's book also serves as a forum for the author to air some of his own dirty laundry in public. Reading between the lines, it's hard not to see through Hart's often harsh criticisms of his more famous siblings (this is especially true in the case of his brother Bret "Hitman" Hart), as not being at least a little colored by his own professional jealousy. There also seems to be some genuine hurt there over the way that Bret Hart handled the matter of Bruce's ghost writing Bret's syndicated wrestling column for the Calgary Sun.

Mostly though, this book is a real eye-opener that makes for some very fascinating reading, even if you don't necessarily call yourself a wrestling fan. As the lesser known son of the Hart family — a professional wrestling dynasty that includes such famous names as Bret and Owen Hart, British Bulldog Davey Boy Smith and Jim "The Anvil" Neidhart — Hart's qualifications as an insider with unique insight into the inner workings of the squared circle are virtually without rival.

Some of his stories will of course be familiar to wrestling fans. The story of the infamous "Montreal screwjob" at 1997's WWE Survivor Series pay-per-view for example certainly represents familiar territory. As such, Hart's own retelling of what went down on the night that Bret Hart was "screwed" out of the WWE title in a real life conspiracy involving Vince McMahon, arch-rival Shawn Michaels and referee (and close friend) Earl Hebner offers few new details.

The death of his brother Owen Hart however, is a revealing look into how this tragedy (Owen Hart fell to his death while attempting to perform a stunt from the ceiling of an arena at a WWE pay per view show) shook his family and friends to their emotional core.

In Bruce Hart's account, Owen's death reads like the latest chapter in a long series of events that came to define the unique love-hate relationship which continues to exist between the Hart family and Vince McMahon to this day. Even as the family was grieving and pointing fingers of blame over the tragedy, there was also a strange business as usual aspect about it, that seemed to suggest the show must nonetheless go on. It makes for some of the most eye-opening reading in this book.

Elsewhere, Straight From The Hart reveals many of the insider details you'd expect from such a book. There are the humorous road stories about the "ribs" wrestlers often pull on one another as a way to amuse themselves during the otherwise mundane grind of traveling from city to city during their decidedly unglamorous "house show" tours.

There are also the darker stories about steroid use, and the accompanying rate of premature death amongst wrestling performers. This is most tragically illustrated here by the case of family friend and promising wrestling talent Brian Pillman, found dead in a hotel room at the age of 35.

Mostly though, Straight From The Hart is Bruce Hart's own story about growing up in one of the most powerful families in wrestling, complete with all the personal memories and anecdotes one would expect. To his credit as a writer, Hart also holds little back here — whether its dealing with the backstage politicking or with more deeply personal matters like the deaths of Pillman and his brother Owen.

There is plenty of dirty laundry here to be sure, and more often than not Bruce Hart seems to have some personal axes to grind. But the story is also told with the candid feel of reading from someone's diary. In that respect, Bruce Hart's Straight From The Hart puts you right in the middle of the ring.

This article was first published at Blogcritics Magazine.