How indeed. Last week I talked about my adventures (or singular lack of them) in Las Vegas at the New Media Expo. The high point of the trip for me was the Coverville 500 concert, a big revue show that was held in a ballroom at Bally’s. Coverville is one of the most popular podcasts going (outside of offerings by our own Podcast Network, of course) hosted by a guy in Colorado named Brian Ibbott. Brian thought it would be cool for his 500th show to have a live concert, and he rounded up various acts he had featured on the show over the years - Natalie Gelman, Jonathan Coulton, Chance and The Choir, a comedy group called The Radio Adventures of Doctor Floyd, emcee Dan Klass of another popular podcast THE BITTEREST PILL, and to finish up the night, Richard Cheese and Lounge Against the Machine.

Of these acts, Cheese is the only one who isn’t best known for original material. He is a swanky lounge singer with a martini glass and a leopard-skin tux, dragging songs by Incubus and Weezer and  Sir Mix-a-Lot back with him to the fifties. It’s not an original idea (he thanks Bill Murray in the liner notes of his second album, and his Nick character on SNL is a pretty clear inspiration) but Cheese has the ace up his french cuff of being a very talented lounge singer. He has a voice like Steve Lawrence or Paul Anka, and he surrounds himself with skilled musicians who pull the whole thing off musically, which just makes it more hilarious. It’s almost as funny as seeing hearing Frank Sinatra’s duet with Bono.

So taken with his act was I that I didn’t notice just how much some of the audience despised him. Seriously, there is so much bad mojo coming out of that set that I’m not even going to link to the YouTube clips, because Ibbott is begging people to take them down.

It’s these YouTube clips that seem to be at the heart of the commotion. The other acts didn’t have a problem with fan taping. Cheese was the only one who had a rider specifying that he could not be recorded. And quoting Ibbott:

… had there been physical tickets sent to attendees who purchased their tickets online, I would have been able to indicate that preference on the tickets. Since there wasn’t, we posted signs around the show, provided by Richard Cheese, which indicated, among other things, that his portion of the show couldn’t be recorded.

This kind of thing would be difficult to enforce nowadays under any circumstances, but imagine a roomful of bloggers and podcasters. Not only were they taping, about half were uploading between sets. 

So when Richard Cheese came on, he reminded the crowd that there was no recording. At that point the people taping held their cellphones up a little higher to be sure they caught him saying it. What happened next depends a lot on your perspective and how you view comedy. Cheese either petulantly snatched a guy’s phone out of his hand, walked it across the stage and threw it at another concertgoer, snarling “free cameras!” or he playfully took this guy’s phone and gamely tossed it to someone at the other end of the stage, cheerfully shouting “free cameras!” 

And he also spit a glass of water out into the audience, but that was earlier.

Thing is watching Cheese acting this way, I was reminded of something Alice Cooper said: he was asked how he reconciled his strong baptist upbringing with his stage act, and he responded, “well that’s not me up there. That’s Alice.” Richard Cheese is a character, obviously. He’s brash and insensitive, like any of those Rat Pack guys. If he’s not, there’s no funny. And for whatever unfortunate combination of elements, it went sour on him that night. 

Not with everybody. Most people stayed through the whole set and enjoyed it. A few even put away their cellphones. It seems to me that most of the negative chatter about the show is coming from people who are hearing about it second and third hand. After the set Cheese hung around and signed CDs. He remembered me, because he had aimed a bubble machine at my face. “I always pick a guy with glasses,” he said. “You’re a bastard,” I responded. And I moved on, because Richard Cheese and I, we can take a joke.

-daniel k

As in previous years, I declined to attend any of the conferences, so I’m left with reporting on the scene on the convention floor. The exhibitors fell into catagories - hardware for you to produce your podcasts with (think Mackie boards and Shure microphones), software to mix your podcasts with (Sony, Ambrosia), companies which were an amalgm to the two (AudioMidi, which I learned is within walking distance of my day job); and a couple of actual podcasts. Orange County Podcasters was running some kind of continuous series of panel shows all day. Leo LaPorte of This Week In Tech also had a live video feed in which he interviewed various luminaries.

LaPorte was an interesting case by the way. There were monitors showing the video feed and the stream of viewer comments, and the 10 second latency caused by data buffering meant that you’d see something live, then you’d see it on the screen, then the comments would come. Usually they weren’t about the action anyway. There’s a girl on the staff called Colleen who has this rabid fan base.

For me the thing that made me decide to eat up vacation time for this was the Coverville 500 concert, held Friday night at Bally’s. Coverville is a music show that’s all cover versions, and the performers were people who are popular on the show, like Jonathan Coulton who has a beautiful soft-rock version of BABY GOT BACK, and Richard Cheese who does lounge-singer versions of alt-rock and hip-hop material.  Cheese has a once-a-month gig at the Hard Rock Resort.

The concert produced two remarks that I find telling about the whole podcast phenomenon. Jonathan Coulton was introducing a song about how difficult it is to be Tom Cruise, and he pointed out that is was interesting it was to be playing for an audience of famous people, “just not as famous as me. Your fame is to mine as mine is to Tom Cruise.” His point is well taken. To be a podcaster is to be an attention whore. It’s what we do. It’s what we are. And I have to tell you, every time I spotted Coulton in the Casino or at the Starbucks next to the Convention Center, I got that same little thrill you get when you see a more broadly famous person. If they’re famous to you, they’re famous. That’s how it works.

The other remark was made by Dan Klass, host of THE BITTEREST PILL and emcee for the concert. He made a point in his opening remarks to tell the crowd of cell-phone hoisting, twittering, live-blogging attendees this: “You cannot monetize this event. It’s a concert. You’re supposed to just enjoy it.” I’m pretty sure this advice was ignored by most.

-daniel k

In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talents, new creations. The new needs friends.

Sure, we both take swipes at things that are bad or silly or excessive, but these criticisms are generally leveled at systemic problems (goodie bags, tiny video, labor issues, popcorn prices) or the personal shortcomings of the celebrated (Amy Winehouse, Kate Hudson, Sofia Coppola). We generally leave movies alone to live or die by their own lights, sniping only parenthetically or, in the case of the podcast, through brief, witty, withering wordplay.

What makes me proud of the site is the fact we take the time to highlight new discoveries (”Life on Mars,” “Torchwood,” the Heroic Cheerleader sub-genre, The Met in HD). One of the more satisfying aspect of the general editorial direction here– completely unbidden, mind you, just something Dan and I do– is re-evaluate and recommend older works (Brute Force, Lolita, Basic Instinct). It may not seem like it when the articles are skimmed, but one of the hallmarks of TPN:: Box Office Weekly is a generally positive approach to the creative works of others, reserving harsher criticism for the business itself.

Having said all that, I have to break precedent and go after a film based solely on it’s preview.

Based just on said trailer, The Love Guru™ looks like one of the worst movies to come along in quite a while. Watch the preview if you don’t believe me, or the annoyingly web 2.0 home page. Whatever comedic magic Mike Meyers had has been dissipated: Whatever new or original ideas he brought to his movies seem to have abandoned him. It is also offensive on it’s face, with midget jokes and Indian stereotypes mis-fired by the bushel basket. Meyer’s “Guru Pitka” seem to be another variant on an Austin Powers-type character, a vaguely 60s-era pastiche.

Am I judging The Love Guru™ by it’s trailer? Yeah, for two good reasons: Hey, if you’re marketing a comedy aren’t you supposed to put the funniest parts of the film in it? If this is a Hollywood verity, than something has gone seriously off the rails here. Secondly, from what I could glean (First saw the trailer a few night ago on broadcast: it thudded so loudly, this article had to be created to counter it) this thing is so stunningly reprehensible I believe this break from our editorial practices is something of a public service.

Namaste,

–Skot C.

Esurance, an online insurance company, created a spokeswoman for their ads in the form of “Erin Esurance:” a Flash-animated, pink-haired hottie who fights evil, global warming and excessive paper use while pitching the easy-to-use online features of her parent company. The “Erin” campaign is not an ad agency concoction: she was created in-house by the Bay Area insurance firm. This is evident by the fluid, line-less, colorful “CalArts” style of animation used in the ads, and in the fact the character is sort of loosely bonded to the company’s message (ad agency creations are strongly focus-tested and rarely exceed the message, the Geico Cavemen being the exception).

Probably because of her strong image branding and the character’s unintentional stand-alone qualities, she’s turned up in some unusual places:

• The first post-strike new episode of “My Name Is Earl” was introduced by none other than Jeff Zucker, the president of NBC/Universal. Big props to his performance: one of the funniest parts of the episode. At one point, Mr. Zucker was demonstrating how one can watch episodes of “Earl” online– after you see an ad, of course. The ad featured Erin Esurance doing her sexy black-suited action thing, which prompted the president of NBC to say: “I once dated a girl with pink hair. (under his breath) Craaa-zy!”

• Another first for Erin: a movie tie-in. She is featured in ad cross-promoting the upcoming summer action/fantasy film Speed Racer. In the ad, she sits in the front row of a darkened movie auditorium, laughing, gasping, enjoying the film. Very engaging.

Her appealing juxtaposition led me to think this whole situation is exactly backwards. What sounds more compelling to you: Yet another CG-heavy film based on some half-forgotten but easily branded kiddie product, or a movie featuring Erin? This ad really sold me– not on the Speed Racer movie, or Esurance, but Erin’s viability as a movie star. (Well, as long as she doesn’t actually pitch insurance during the movie, that is.)

Time to get a new agent, Erin!

–Skot C.

At a table strewn with lead figurines and hex-graph paper sit FOUR PLAYERS and a DUNGEON MASTER, behind his dragon-emblazed standing folder.

DUNGEON MASTER: Did you hear about Gygax?

JAPHETH BLIGH (8th-level warrior): What’s that? A troll? I’m taking out my +5 Longsword–

HELVETICA the MEDIUM (6th-level Cleric) –I’m reaching into my robe for a scroll–

DM: No. Gary Gygax.

DELINDIR The ELFMASTER (7th-level Paladin) Gary? That’s a dumb name for a Troll.

MIGHTY MOGENKELLER (2nd-level dwarf) I have a +1 pointed stick! I’m jabbing him!

MogenKeller rolls twelve-sided dice. It comes up 1.

DM: That doesn’t count, Mogenkeller. Gary Gygax is a real person. He just passed away. He had a influence that far exceeded his own creations. He co-developed “Dungeons and Dragons,” which was sort of a phenomena in itself– But the genius of his legacy lies in the details. The role-playing game, where one inhabits a character and is guided on adventures by the Dungeon Master, a sort of movie director, was unique enough. But he added quantifiable elements such as ability scores: each character has an admixture of Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma, all mediated by Experience and Hit points. Run out of too many of these attributes or hit points, and your character is toast. This gaming system, initially kept pencil-on-paper, translated easily into computer-based attribute scoring. First-person shooter games like Half-Life, Doom, and Halo are merely computer-based applications of this basic system, first codified in 1974.

H. the M.: I knew that.

J.B.: Geek.

DM: The immersive, interactive world of D&D could also be considered a real-world dry run for virtual-community online games like The Sims and Second Life. In tone, details and type of play, the universe of D&D is virtually indistinguishable from World of Warcraft, the world’s most popular massively multiplayer online role-playing game.

H. the M.: Hey, why aren’t we playing that?

J.B.: Perhaps because there is something more intrinsically creative and imaginative about a role-playing game that is played face-to-face, and largely occurs inside the players heads, not on a computer screen.

D. the E.: Maybe you’re too cheap to afford $20 a month to subscribe to Warcraft.

J.B.(quietly): Let’s talk about this at home, okay?

M.M.: I have a pointed stick!

H. the M.: Hush, now.

DM: As stigmatized as D&D seems to be in popular culture (”geek!”) it’s mythical lexicon, culled from the fiction of J.R.R. Tolkien, Robert Howard and H.P. Lovecraft, has though it’s direct and indirect influences kept open a popular-culture window to fantasy entertainment. Would the Lord of the Rings trilogy have taken in nearly $3 billion if the core audience were strictly Tolkien fans– aging 60s college students– rather than the generations of people familiar with the strongly Tolkien-like D&D universe?

J.B.: That dude must have had total wealth points!

DM: You’d think so. It’s somewhat illustrative that Gary Gygax never got really, really rich off his fecund co-invention. Wizards of the Coast, a bunch of RPG publishers who got rich off of Magic: The Gathering (a very D&D-like collectible-card game) bought Gygax’s company outright in 1997, a case of the imitators acquiring the original.

D.the E.: Still, an impressive legacy nonetheless.

H. the M.: Quite the visionary.

M.M. I have a pointed stick!

J.B. (in character): I’m turning rouge… And I’m turning and stabbing Mogenkeller with my +5 Longsword!

Japheth rolls a 12.

DM: You killed him.

J.B.: Hah! Now you have to go out and get more Dr. Pepper. We’re all out.

–Skot C.