Review: "American Comic Book Chronicles: The 1990s"

Leafing through the pages of this latest hardcover entry in Tomorrow Publishing's comprehensive history of American comics, I kept thinking, "Man, I bought a lot of crappy comics in the 1990s."

Being mainly a reader of superhero titles, though, so, apparently, did everyone during that decade. The covers on display here made me wince at recollections of vacuous storylines; dumb characters;  exploitative crossovers; chromium-"enhanced" covers, and ugly, stiff, over-rendered artwork full of improbably grotesque and/or sexist anatomy. This stuff is so tacky it's a wonder we don't refer to this as the Spencer's Gifts Era of comics. Co-authors Jason Sacks and Keith Dallas deserve hazard pay for taking on this era, which they do with admirable objectivity.

Reading through the book, one sees that the 90s, comic book-wise, weren't all bad. Just mostly so. There was some good, interesting stuff going on -  "Batman: The Animated Series," "Bone" by Jeff Smith; "Madman," by Michael Allred; "Astro City" by Kurt Busiek; "Sandman Mystery Theater" by Matt Wagner; "Death" by Neil Gaiman; "Big Numbers" by Alan Moore and Bill Sienkiewicz - but also so much bad. The early Image Comics, Wizard magazine, the Spider-Man clone "saga," "Heroes Reborn," and stunt storytelling such as the death of Superman and Batman's broken back are all recounted here in cringe-inducing detail, with pictures that make it all even more embarrassingly painful.

Reading along, I realized that the business travails of the comics industry during this time stand out as far more interesting in my memory than any of the dreck I read from Image or the Big Two. This was the time of Marvel's bankruptcy, rampant speculation and manufactured "collectables." We see how the outsize egos and immaturity of people in the business, such as Image's cocksure founders, led to irresponsible practices that actually put comic book shops out of business.

I believe, and hope, that comics publishers and creators learned a lot during the 1990s. As a reader and fan, I learned quite a bit about what I value in comics (character, storytelling and imagination as opposed to "collectability," gloss and hype) that's me a brighter consumer more adept at seeking out and finding work of high quality. And, lest we forget, this excellent but painful history of American comics' ugliest era is recounted here to help us all remember.

Review: "The Best of Don Winslow of the Navy"

I was a bit alarmed a while back to get a package in the mail from the U.S. Naval Institute. Not the type of thing that usually shows up at my house. I thought maybe I'd been drafted and the box contained a summer white service uniform. I was relieved, instead, to find a hardcover comic book collection inside.

It turns out the Naval Institute, a non-profit that works in support of the U.S. Navy, has a publishing arm and, in partnership with comics archivist Craig Yoe, released this spiffy compilation of "Don Winslow of the Navy" comic book stories.

I'd seen the name before, but Winslow wasn't a character I was familiar with. I learned, reading Yoe's excellent and picture-packed introduction, however, that Don was quite the pop cultural phenom in his day, which stretched from 1934, with the launch of a daily comic strip, through the mid 1950s. During the war years, there was a Don Winslow radio series with associated premium toys, a number of Big Little books, novelizations, a movie serial and, of course, the comic book series.

Published by Fawcett, the first issue of Don Winslow of Navy, published in 1943, featured a cover on which Don is introduced to readers by Captain Marvel, the biggest comic book character of the day. The stories collected here, as might be expected from Fawcett, are better-than-average Golden Age fare. There are some imaginative twists and turns to the plots and the visual storytelling is solid, if not  very distinctive. These stories appeared in a time when most comic book stories lacked credits, but we know from Yoe's intro that writers on the series included Otto Binder and Bill Woolfolk, while artists included Carl Pfeufer and Leonard Starr.

Winslow's creator, a colorful former Navy and FBI man named Frank V. Martinek, evidently did little work on the character outside of coming up with the initial idea of an adventure comic strip as a good PR vehicle for America's naval forces.

Along with the expected Nazis and Japanese troops, Winslow's antagonists include colorful recurring villains such as the criminal mastermind the Scorpion; the stretchy, sewer-pipe slithering Snake, and sultry gal pirate Singapore Sal.

I found the history of the Winslow character more interesting than the stories reprinted here, which are mildly diverting but by no means classic. But if you're a Golden Age and/or Fawcett buff, you may find this book a worthwhile addition to your library. The quality of scholarship (shout out to fellow blogger BookSteve, who contributed research) and printing on display here are top notch.

Review: New books from TwoMorrows explore comics' Bronze Age

TwoMorrows Publishing is a boundless resource for anyone interested in the history of superhero comic books and fandom. And comics' Bronze Age of the mid-1970s to early 1980s is the focus of the company's two most-recent books.

"Mike Grell: Life is Drawing Without an Eraser," by Dewey Cassell with Jeff Messer, charts the full career of one of the era's top artists, famed for his work on a range of different series published by DC.

I first encountered Grell's work in 1974, early in his Legion of Superheroes run in "Superboy," and he may be the first artist I paid attention to by name. This was early in my comics-reading days and Grell's distinctive style stood out to me.

I was following characters, not writers or artists, at that point, yet my path and Grell's seemed to converge frequently as we both traveled through the DC Universe.

I enjoyed his work on Aquaman and Green Lantern/Green Arrow and, finally, I started collecting "Warlord," based on his writing and art. I was mostly a superhero guy, but had ventured into Conan and Tarzan at that point, and loved Grell's hollow earth, Burroughsian adventure stores.

This is the work I think of when I recall Grell. But, as he entered the 1980s, he became even better known for his high successful indy comics creation, Jon Sable, and his Green Arrow mini-series, "The Longbow Hunters," which served as the template for the current "Arrow" TV series. \

All of this work, along with Grell's brief stint illustrating the Tarzan comic strip series and some recent commission work and pin-ups is on display in this book, which is packed with black-and-white and full-color art.

If you're a fan of Grell in particular, or of comic book art in general, this is a worthy book to add to your library.

"Comic Book Implosion: An Oral History of DC Comics Circa 1978," by Keith Dallas and John Wells, meanwhile, focuses on what's often seen as embarrassing chapter of the company's history, but, in retrospect, can be seen as a story about the entire medium's survival.

Like many kids of the 1960s and 70s, I discovered comics on supermarket and drugstore newsstands. Eventually, the downtown newsstand and tobacco shop, which was outfitted with two side-by-side spinner racks, became my favorite haunt. But, unknown to me at the time, buying comics in this way was quickly becoming a thing of the past.

The pipe-smoking lady at the cash register in the newsstand seemed happy enough to take my dimes and quarters each week, but it turned out her boss wasn't seeing much of a profit off funnybooks. Not that he likely minded too much. He had a big shop, with space to display hundreds of different  newspapers and magazines. Supermarkets and drugstores, on the other hand, had only limited room. Why fill it with cheap comics books when it could be filled with more profitable magazines?

This is why DC made a bold move to both boost the price and page counts of its comics around 1978,  as well as to dramatically increase the number of series it published. Dubbed the "DC Explosion," the idea was to publish comics that were both more profitable to retailers and a better value for fans.

The plan failed miserably. DC reversed course almost immediately, canceling numerous titles and leaving dozens of stories unpublished.

As the authors detail here in excerpts of articles and interviews from the fan press of the time and later, DC was seen as making a move to denominate the marketplace, exploit fans and lock down the industry's top creators - and it all backfired.

But, as the book also makes clear, this isn't really a tale of corporate hubris, but of  comics' transition from the newsstand to specialized comic book shops. It's actually the story about how comics survived, not how DC failed. As the authors note, Marvel canceled plenty of comics during this time, too, and other publishers were either drastically cutting their outputs or leaving the business.

DC was just giving its best shot at keeping comic books alive as a viable presence on newsstands. It turns out that wasn't possible, at least not at the time. By focusing on comic shops, publishers could essentially print to order and target their output directly to fans. An entirely new comics explosion occured, featuring loads of new publishers and greatly expanded lines by DC and Marvel, which continues to this day.

Likewise packed with photos and artwork, this book will be of interest to anyone who grew up in the era covered, or who's curious about this pivotal point comics history.

Review: "Won't You Be My Neighbor?"

How well do you know your neighbors?

As a pre-schooler, I knew Mr. Rogers as a friendly guy who appeared on weekday afternoons on the family Zenith. In black and white.

He'd walk in his front door, greet us with a smile while singing a cheerful, welcoming song. He'd take off his suit jacket, put on a comfy sweater and switch out of his Oxfords into what looked to me like a pair of J.C. Penney sneakers.

From there, Mr. Rogers would feed his fish and talk to Picture Picture - sort of a proto-iPad mounted on his wall, which shared pictures and information - and fire up his model trolley for a trip to the Land of Make Believe.

I always thought the trolley was the coolest part.

Millions of American kids joined Mr. Rogers in this daily routine, which continued for more than 30 TV seasons. And, fittingly, it's how this new documentary of Fred Rogers' life opens.

It's easy to make assumptions about Mr. Rogers from his show. He's dorky. A square. His TV house looks simple and cheap. The Land of Make Believe looks more low-budget than the play area of the nearest McDonalds. But, like he kept telling us, Mr. Rogers was special. And Morgan Neville's film demonstrates the many ways how.

Fred Rogers was an ordained Presbyterian minister who found his calling not in a church, but on children's television. And we see how he thoughtfully, and sometimes shrewdly, taught the values of respect, responsibility, acceptance and, indeed, universal love, through his daily program.

During some of the most violent and challenging moments of the Civil Rights struggle, he brought on an African American cast member and, in one now-famous segment, invited him to cool his feet in the same wading pool.

Following the murder of Robert F. Kenney, Rogers knew that kids would have seen news coverage of the event orheard the word "assassination," and he addressed their confusion, fear and questions in a segment of his show. He also helped children work through the emotions of a pet dying or meeting someone with disabilities.

The film uses vintage clips to detail these moments and includes interviews with the show's cast and crew and Rogers' wife and two sons.

We learn how Rogers went to bat for PBS funding in the networks early days and likely saved it from a budget-cutting Senate panel. We see him calmly face down the stony faced politicians, melting their cold hearts with his description of his program and why it mattered to kids.

Urban legends surrounding Rogers - that he was a Navy SEAL or an Army sniper or that he was gay - are all addressed openly in the film and dismissed. This isn't a whitewash, but an honest portrait. We learn that, despite his calm and kindly demeanor, Rogers could get pissed off. And he would sometimes doubt his abilities and effectiveness.

We see how Rogers was attacked later in life, both by the Westboro Baptist Church and by rightwing pundits who blamed him for supposedly enabling a generation of youth who had the nerve to view themselves as "special" due to his show's refrain of accepting and valuing oneself. It's an interesting perspective, given that Rogers was a lifelong member of the Republican Party and espoused Christian values throughout his decades on public television.

By saying kids were special, he wasn't suggesting that they abdicate responsibility or expect a free ride in life. He was teaching them to respect who they were in life and to respect others, no matter how they might differ from you.

That message, and this film, come at a perfect time, given the world's current political polarization and demonization of "the other." Rogers demonstrated a wisdom, patience and willingness to listen that many or our leaders would do well to emulate.

Like most TV-watching kids of the late 1960s and early 70s, I moved on quickly from "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" to "Sesame Street" - a hipper, more lively part of town. But I was glad to know my neighbor, Fred Rogers, and glad to know him, now, even better.

Review: RetroFan #1

Oh great. As if Alter-Ego, The Jack Kirby Collector and Back Issue weren't enough - the folks at TwoMorrows Publishing have come up with yet another mag seemingly targeted to just me.

From the looks of this first issue (thanks for the review copy, guys!), I imagine I'll be a regular reader.  And I'd imagine RetroFan will be of interest to most folks who happen across this blog, too.

Issue one has the original Hulk, Lou Ferrigno, on the cover and a short interview with him about his days on that beloved series. This feature is coupled with a photo-packed article about the Mego's rare Stretch Hulk, an elastic, corn syrup-filled knock-off of Kenner's famed Stretch Armstrong toy.

But the mag doesn't just scratch the 70s nostalgia itch - it hits pop culture from other decades, too. Martin Pasko (remember him from his DC Comics days?) charts the history, and lackluster film and TV career of the Phantom from the 1940s serials to the present decade. 

Andy Mangels, meanwhile, provides an in-depth history of the late 1960s "Star Trek"cartoon series, which featured voice work by the original series' cast and adult-focused scripts (including one by sci-fi great Larry Niven), even though it aired on Saturday mornings.

Ernest Farino recounts his youth as a horror movie fan and Ray Harryhausen enthusiast, while Scott Shaw profiles Gold Key's Zody the Mod Rob in the first entry of his "Oddball Comics" column. Collector extraordinaire Tom Stewart, meanwhile, details his various obsessions (comics, movie posters, action figures and guitars) accompanied by tantalizing pics.

And, finally, the mag's editor, Michael Eury (who also produces Back Issue, TwoMorrow's mag focused on comics from the 1970s and 80s) takes on us a trip to the original Mayberry, Andy Griffith's real-life hometown, Mount Airy, in North Carolina. He takes us to the town's Andy Griffith Museum and shares an interview with actress Betty Lynn, who portrayed Barney Fife's girlfriend, Thelma Lou, on the Griffith's classic series.

RetroFan is a quarterly, available at Barnes and Noble, from Amazon and direct from TwoMorrows. I'm definitely ready for more.

Review: The Who Live at the Fillmore East, 1968

Tommy and Quadrophenia are great, but I prefer The Who as a scrappy young singles band.

Before his concepts expanded to double-album length, Pete Townshend's best work appeared at 45 r.p.m. in two- or three-minute bursts of tuneful power pop. And it's this Who that's on display in this new collection, bits of which have only previously been available on bootleg.

The collection's track listing shares a number of tunes with The Who's first-released live album, the incredible Live at Leeds, recorded in 1970. But this one captures the band a couple of years earlier, pre-Tommy, and includes several tunes that would be lost from their setlist once that deaf, dumb and blind kid re-defined the group's image and mission.

So, here we get the band blasting through versions of "I Can't Explain" and "Boris the Spider," along with "Relax," from the then-recent The Who Sell Out LP.

Townshend still gets a chance to get conceptual, with oddball tunes such as "Tattoo" (about getting one and suffering your parents' wrath as a result), "I'm a Boy (about a kid forced to dress as a girl, which is a really peculiar listen from today's vantage point) and maybe oddest, and rarest, of all, a live performance of "Little Billy," the band's anti-smoking tune, recorded as a public service announcement for the American Cancer Society.

The band's "mini-opera," "A Quick One" is also performed, and executed as flawlessly and with as much flair as it was in the band's appearance on The Rolling Stones' "Rock and Roll Circus" TV special. Reportedly, the Stones felt they'd been so overshadowed by The Who that they shelved the show for decades.

These originals are surrounded by a healthy dollop of The Who's "maximum r&b," with the band performing live standards such as "Summertime Blues" and "Shakin' All Over" along with Eddie Cochran's "My Way" and "C'Mon Everybody."which Pete introduces as "hard rock." And it is.

Throughout this set's first disk, the group stampedes through the tunes, playing aggressively, but concisely - never forgetting the hooks or melodies. Keith Moon's drumming sounds at times like a kit falling down a flight of stairs and Townshend's slashing guitar chords and soloing threaten to spiral off into the ether, but bassist John Entwistle keeps it all anchored down. Roger Daltrey's lead vocals are strong throughout and, while Townshend and Entwistle's background harmonies falter on occasion, this is a virtuoso performance. The Who, live, was the best you could get.

It's disk two where all hell breaks loose, and the band signals the longer-form, jamming live performances they'd gravitate toward on Live at Leeds. Here we get a full 30-minutes plus of "My Generation." The performance reminds us that Townshend was one of the great 1960s guitarists - often overlooked in comparison to Hendrix or Clapton. But he was an innovator, too, playing in very much his own style - making creative use of feedback and avoiding blues-jamming cliches in favor of more abstract riffing and soloing.

For Who fans, this one's a must. It captures the band at a pivotal time - bridging their pop and rock years. It's amazing how much noise three guys and a singer could make.

Some relatively spoiler-free thoughts on "Avengers: Infinity War"

"Big event" crossovers have become so routine in comic books that I long ago stopped bothering to keep up. But whoever thought we'd see one on the big screen?

Those of us who grew up on the watered down, change-the-character's-origin/costume/secret identity, superhero TV shows, movies and cartoon series in the 1970s and 1980s never would've predicted that Hollywood would consider audiences interested or smart enough to track 10- or 20-some characters interacting in a huge team-up adventure.

But with Marvel now calling the shots with its own film studio, here we are with "Avengers: Infinity War." And it's a blast.

Nearly every Marvel character featured on screen since the first Iron Man film 10 years ago appears in the film - 20 some characters in all, including Spider-Man, Captain America, Hulk, Thor, Black Widow, Doctor Strange, Scarlet Witch, Vision, Black Panther and the Guardians of the Galaxy.

The film's story draws from artist/writer Jim Starlin's cosmic Infinity Stone storylines, which stretch from his 1970s run on Warlock to his "event' series of the 1990s and there are many references to the previous Marvel films and plot lines.

So why isn't the film, like nearly every comic book crossover since the 1990s, a huge, muddled mess? I think because, unlike most comic book stories these days which are continuity and plot-driven, this one is about characters.

Thanos and his cheesy, gumball machine gems are beside the point. We want to see Thor spar, verbally, with Star Lord and hang out with Rocket Racoon (who the Thunder God dubs "rabbit") and Groot. We want to revisit Wakanda, because Wakanda is the coolest. We want to see Black Widow fighting alien dogs alongside Black Panther's chief bodyguard, Okoye. We wanted to see Peter Parker meet Black Panther's brainy kid sister, Shuri, but that didn't happened ... yet.

Sure, the film might be a tad confusing if you haven't seen all the Marvel movies or if you don't remember the finer points of each. But it doesn't matter so much because the basics are clear - good guys are fighting a big bad guy, and the good guys are all interesting, likable and fun to spend time with. In most comics of this nature creators are so busy messing with continuity and referencing past storylines that characters and their interactions become superfluous.

Yes, the movies still make changes that may not be strictly necessary, and which may annoy hardcore comics fans. But for the most part they are better than today's comics at telling stories about these iconic characters.

I'm always perplexed why Marvel and DC don't got with the characters as they're presented on screen, where they are seen and understood by millions, not the mere thousands who still read comics. Why not use the movie versions and storylines in comics, too? It would make the comics more inviting to newer, younger fans. Fear of sales?

Let's hope that the Marvel movies don't go down the same wormhole of self-referential continuity. And let's hope that we can hang in there to see what happens next because - without spoiling things too much - lots of bad things happen at the end of "Infinity War" and we need to see how our favorite characters come out at the end. Plus, Peter and Shuri. It's gotta happen.

Review: "Isle of Dogs"

Wes Anderson's films are so singular in their stylistic obsessions and quirks that it's amazing he's attained the large-ish following he enjoys today.

The key to his films' appeal, I think,  is their quirkiness but also Anderson's humor and his well-defined, oddball-but-engaging characters. Weird as they are, you like these people.

"Isle of Dogs," however, is the first of Anderson's films I can recall where the characters don't draw me in. It's not that they aren't appealing, but I didn't get to like them as much as, say, those in "Moonrise Kingdom," "The Life Aquatic of Steve Zissou" or "Rushmore."

Part of the challenge is that this new film is a blend of stop-motion and traditional animation. Yet Anderson's "Fantastic Mr. Fox," also animated, had no trouble making it's characters instantly engaging and likable.

"Isle of Dogs" looks great. I was attracted to its weird mix of 1950s-60s design and modern tech and the use of what look like vintage 1960s Japanese action figure/dollls as the film's human characters. The lead human character, Atari, a boy pilot dressed in a shiny, G.I.-style astronaut outfit, looks supercool.

And I love dogs, of which there are many in this movie. They all look cute and have endearing, quirky personalities (along with voices supplied by Bryan Cranston, Bill Murray, Jeff Goldblum, Scarlett Johansson and others), yet none of them, or Atari or any of the other humans, seemed entirely real to me.

Anderson doesn't quite breathe life into his creations here and, as a result, I became fixated on the film's incredible craft. As in all his films, the director's crazy attention to detail, the trademark symmetry of his staging and camera work and the overall lovely design of everything on screen came to the fore. The story and action, however, seemed remote, like watching an extremely witty and imaginative child playing with toys. Ultimately, it's a film I appreciated more than enjoyed.

Review: "Black Panther"

Jack Kirby said Black Panther was a character he needed to create back in 1966. Marvel had black readers, but no black characters. It was the heat of the Civil Rights movement and Kirby felt compelled to make a statement.

Black Panther's first appearances in The Fantastic Four didn't comment directly on issues of race and America's treatment of African Americans, but Kirby was making a statement through example: Heroism, thoughtfulness, commitment, intelligence and integrity are all qualities to be respected and admired. And they are present in all types of people.

Fifty-plus years later, Marvel has recognized Black Panther as the character we all need, now.

T'Challa, the Black Panther, King of Wakanda is strong, intelligent, thoughtful, brave. He's excited by science and embraces its potential to make life better. He's compassionate and works for humane solutions. He honors his ancestors and welcomes their wisdom. He respects the strong women in his life and seeks their counsel. He wants his nation to lead by offering help to the less fortunate and by building bridges. Who doesn't that sound like?

Like Kirby in the 1960s, Marvel isn't making an overt statement here, but it's making one nevertheless. "Black Panther" asks us, "what is a hero? What qualities are worthy of admiration? What is a leader?"

Chadwick Boseman as T'Challa is a refreshingly un-tortured, un-snarky superhero. He's grieving for his lost father and uncertain he's prepared to assume the throne, but he's not wallowing in self-pity or out for vengeance. He's seeking to do what's right for his people and his family. He was noble before he ever took the throne.

Black Panther is a very quiet, almost introverted character, who surrounds himself with more assertive, more extroverted allies - all of them women. Lupita N'yong'o is excellent as his love interest, Nakia, a spy. Florence Kasumba is Ayo, his stoic and strong bodyguard, and Letitia Wright nearly steals the show as his brainy kid sister,  the Q-like creator of all sorts of vehicles and gadgets the Panther uses in his fight for what's right.

The film's story blends elements of Bond-like intrigue with 1970s-style Marvel "jungle action" and takes obvious inspiration from the current, excellent, Ta-Nehisi Coates-scripted Black Panther comic book series, with its explorations of nation, power and responsibility.

Martin Freeman appears as a Felix Leiter-like CIA agent, a flesh-and-blood Andy Serkis is amusingly and psychotically over the top as Ulysses Klau (spelling it that way makes it less silly than "Klaw," don't you know), while Angela Bassett plays T'Challa's mother and Forest Whitaker his spiritual advisor. The excellent Michael B. Jordan ("The Wire" and "Friday Night Lights" - plus he was Johnny Storm in the 2015 Fantastic Four film) is both chilling and moving as the Panther's cousin and adversary, the unfortunately and improbably named, Erik Killmonger.

More than 50 years after Kirby introduced the Black Panther as comics' first black superhero, he's now the first black superhero on the big screen. It's ridiculous that we've had to wait so long for such  a groundbreaking moment, but it's good that it's finally arrived.

"Black Panther" is a revitalizing, refreshing, thoughtful and thought-provoking film which also plays as a fun, adventure-filled, straight-ahead superhero story. Kids like to pretend they're superheroes. We should encourage them to emulate this one.

Review: "The Knowledge" by Squeeze

Squeeze is one of my few remaining "old friend" bands. Whey they release a new LP, my heart warms up a little. Pangs of nostalgia from all those high schools spins of East Side Story and Sweets from a Stranger set in (I wasn't cool enough to have got Argybargy or Cool for Cats when they first came out). And  expectations run, moderately, high.

I don't expect Squeeze today to match the heights of their best years. I'm amazed enough that the high-low harmonies of Glenn Tilbrook and Chris Difford still sound so good and that the tunes are still so melodic and upbeat.

On this basis alone, I'm glad that Difford and Tilbrook, several years back, started working together again under their old banner. They still create music that's wonderful to hear. Yet, I wish the music was just a tad more wonderful than it is.

The previous Squeeze album, 2015's Cradle to the Grave, included one fantastic tune, "Happy Days," that hearkens back to some of the band's best, catchiest work.

Yet, the rest of the tunes didn't take me in. I gave the LP the benefit of the doubt, though, because the songs were all written to accompany a British TV series of the same name, which we never had the opportunity to see over here in the States. Perhaps I just didn't have the right context.

But The Knowledge is a regular album, not tied to any outside project, and I still find it a little lackluster. Largely, I think, due to the lyrics. Most of the songs here take on the woes of the world and  the earnest concerns expressed in the words tend to crowd out the wit so central to the group's best music of the past.

In songs such as "A&E," about public health nurses not being paid enough, and "Rough Ride," about the lack of affordable housing and good-paying jobs for London millennials, the group expresses their middle-age, middle-class concerns so plainly and unimaginatively that they might as well be letters to the editor or Facebook posts. Better is "The Ones," which speaks to the polarization and anxieties of our times now that "the valves have been opened/the hot air released/a fear reignited/and the temperature increased."

Other misfires include the album's most overt attempt at humor, "Please Be Upstanding," which is about a problem many middl-aged men have that can be solved with a pill. It's sort of funny, but too obvious. And "The Final Score," about a man who is coming to terms over his childhood abuse by a soccer coach, seems to come from a different album entirely.

But the best songs on the album are those like "Innocence in Paradise," the nostalgic "Patchouli," and "Departure Lounge," which explore mortality and the quickly passing years we all share. And, while the line about "vaping" makes me cringe, I like "Albatross," a funny, tender portrait of an aging record collector and Peter Green-era Fleetwood Mac fan.

I doubt I'll return to The Knowledge much, but there are a few good tunes here worth a listen if you're a longtime Squeeze fan. Difford and Tilbrook haven't lost it, but they also haven't quite found it again. Here's hoping they'll keep writing and recording and slip back into the golden groove once again.

Review: "Silver Surfer: A Power Greater than Cosmic"

This new collection brings to an end a uniquely whimsical and heartwarming chapter in Marvel Comics history.

The Dan Slott-Michael Allred run on Silver Surfer has essentially been a love story between Galactus' former herald and Dawn Greenwood, a woman from Earth. Over the course of the story, the Surfer opens the cosmos to Dawn as she opens his heart.

Slott's writing is funny, fresh and hugely imaginative, even while key influences, such as the classic and modern "Doctor Who," show through. Allred's art, created in collaboration with his wife, the colorist Laura Allred, is equally imaginative, conveying humor, beauty and wonder with ease.

Throughout his history, the Surfer has generally been a gloomy Gus, and with good reason. To spare his world from Galactus, he became the Planet Eater's advance man, leaving his home and his loved one to surf the stars, scouring new worlds for the cosmic giant to consume. The Surfer lives with the knowledge that he's responsible for billions of deaths across the universe as a result of his work for Galactus. And then, when he leaves the giant one's employ, the Surfer is trapped on Earth, left to dwell on all that he's done. Good times.

To take such a depressed (and sometimes depressing) character and place him in a cosmic romantic comedy is a weird step, but Slott makes it work. His Surfer is a guy getting back in touch with simple joys of life, knowing that he needs to, and wants to, move on. He's regained his ability to travel the universe (actually, he did quite some time ago) and now he has someone to share it with.

Dawn is another fully realized character. She's quirky - always dressed in ladybug patterns - funny, feisty, smart and charming. As with the Doctor's companions on "Doctor Who," she is the series' humanizing factor. She's the one who channels our wonder and brings an earthly perspective to a lead character who might otherwise not be so relatable.

In this collection. Surfer and Dawn, among other things, gamble away the Surfer's board at a cosmic casino, get swallowed by a giant space whale and deal with tragedy back on Earth. And, yeah, they finally profess their love for one another.

In the end, it's sad to bid these characters, at least temporarily, goodbye. I hope, as Michael Allred says in a written piece in the back of this book, that "the old team" will get together again soon. Slott and the Allred are a fantastic pairing (tripling, if you count Laura. Which you should). It's rare to see, especially in American comics published by one of the Big Two, a creative team provided with the support and freedom to work for this long, and this well, together. The result has been truly special.

Review: "Peter Parker - The Spectacular Spider-Man: Into the Twilight"

Brave, smart, funny, anxious, responsible: Peter Parker, the Spectacular Spider-Man, is all of these things and Chip Zdarsky, the writer of this latest incarnation of Spidey's "second" title (the flagship has always been considered "Amazing Spider-Man"), nails all of these qualities in his characterization of our hero. Particularly "funny."

While I've loved Dan Slott's long run on "Amazing" (sadly coming to an end soon, apparently), I found Zdarsky's take refreshing and exhilarating. This collection of his first six issues on "Spectacular" is one of the most fun Marvel comics I've read in a long time. 

I love the humor, which extends to Zdarsky's Stan Lee-style conversational explanatory blurbs. Some readers may think the humor is over the top, but it works for me. It's good to see a writer having so much fun in his work, while also poking a little good-humored fun at Marvel history and we, the readers.

Consider this blurb, which gives us the background on Normie Osborn "...son of Harry Osborn, who used to be Green Goblin, who is the son of Norman Osborn, the original Green Goblin. Man, I would bet good money that Normie grows up to be a Green Goblin."

And, speaking of family trees, the first five issues here are illustrated by the great Adam Kubert, brother of the equally awesome Andy, who are both sons of the legendary Joe. Comic timing is tough to capture in a superhero comic, where figures are depicted more or less realistically, but Adam does an excellent job in capturing both the funny bits and the action, of which there's plenty. 

The sixth and last issue in the collection is ably illustrated by Michael Walsh, though his style is significantly different from Kubert's.

I won't get into plots, but there's good, surprising, stuff in this first collection, including great guest bits from the Human Torch (I love to hear Spidey and Johnny Spar), Mary Jane Watson, a female "Iron Man" I didn't know existed, Flash Thompson, Betty Brant, Peter's "sister" and an even more bitter than usual J. Jonah Jameson.

I'm now a wait-for-the-trade guy, so it will be a little bit, but I'm looking forward to a second helping.

Review: Jan and Dean's "Filet of Soul Redux: The Rejected Master Recordings"

Jan Barry and Dean Torrence don't get mentioned alongside pop's pioneering geniuses such as the Beatles or the duo's friend, Brian Wilson. But in late 1965 they recorded one of the most bonkers albums never released.

"Never" because Filet of Soul (a riff on Rubber Soul. Get it?) was rejected by the Jan and Dean's label. Twice. Only now has Omnivore Records released it in its originally intended form.

Filet was planned as a live album, a quick and easy way for Jan and Dean to fulfill their contract with Liberty Records and move onto bigger, better things.

By 1965, they'd grown restless with the music business and had begun to see themselves more as a  comedy duo. They had grand plans, including filming a star-filled comedy feature ("Easy Come, Easy Go") with themselves at the center and a TV series with "Bewitched" producer William Asher.

With all of this on the horizon, putting out another pop record for the kids seemed like a nuisance, but it had to be done.

So,  the pair booked a band, scheduled a show and dutifully ran through a roster of songs including their own songs and covers of hits, including three Beatles tunes.

The performances, backed by a crack band of L.A. "Wrecking Crew"members, weren't bad. But Jan and Dean weren't thrilled with the outcome and decided to tweak the songs in the studio.

"As we edited, we realized that we would much rather hear every band member be introduced than another lame song," Torrence recalls in his liner notes to this new edition. "We would rather hear a really corny joke twice than hear other lame song. We would rather hear five or six false starts of a lame song, and then never finish that same song, than hear another lame song."

So, the pair opted to take a decidedly different approach to assembling an album. Or disassembling one.

"We headed to the sound library just down the hall," Torrence recalls. "We each grabbed a stack of sound effects records and headed back to the studio."

Sitting at the mixing disk, the pair added sound effects liberally and randomly to the live tracks: artillery fire, glass breaking, babies crying, manic laughing, sneezing and screams. These were dropped in, completely at random, between and during the musical numbers.

Songs included on the album are only partially performed, but we hear Jan and Dean telling, or trying to tell, lots of jokes and, yes, introducing the band (to the accompaniment of more sound effects).

The resulting collage is like a funnier, more tuneful version of "Revolution #9." It's also a commentary on the teen-focused music industry of the time. Jan and Dean manage to be hilarious and contemptuous of their fans at the same time. "Now we're going to perform one of our lesser hits," they announce before launching into one of their biggest, "Dead Man's Curve," which is marred with more sound effects, sped up vocals and an incomplete ending.

According to Torrence's liner notes, "the shit hit the fan" when the duo presented the album to the execs at Liberty and they were sent back into the studio to remove some of the off-beat material in favor of more songs. Then Berry got into the horrendous car wreck creepily foretold in "Dead Man's Curve" and, with the duo out of commission, the label seized the tapes and issued a "normal" version of the LP.

It was only on the two-LP Jan and Dean Anthology in 1971 that we got to hear bits and pieces of the intended album. And now Omnivore has thankfully provided us with the whole thing.

For what's essentially a big middle finger to their record company, Filet of Soul is an extremely entertaining LP, fully deserving of its cult status among fans. Which isn't to say that lot's of people don't hate it. But if you're willing to enjoy the album within its context it's a gas. Also great for confounding people at parties.

Review: "Thor: Ragnarok"

Why would a god take himself seriously?

Thor has been around for thousands of years. He's battled legions of monsters, aliens and super-villains and he's come out of it with bruises and scratches, but really no worse for wear. If not impossible to kill, he's near to it.

So, when the Thunder God finds himself in a scrap, he's light-hearted about it, and that's the overall tone of "Thor: Ragnarok." While titled after the Norse apocalypse, a foreseen time when all gods will die, this movie is a near-farce, and a very funny one. Though violent and full of action, the quips fly faster than the punches. After all, figures Thor, is his number's up, he's had a good ride and he might as well exit laughing.

Some fans may think it's too much, that the film is too silly and verges on parody and misses the gravity of the Thor comic books, but I think Marvel and director Taika David Waititi took the right approach. Adding in the humor allows the film to go completely over the top. Things are moving too fast, and the lines are too funny, for you to pause, reflect and realize how ridiculous it all is.

This is the first Thor film set almost entirely away from Earth, or Midgard, as Thor and his pals call our little blue marble. Thor is also apart from his prior love interest, Jane Foster.

When Jane, or another normally powered mortal is present, there's a real risk or harm and death, and Thor must be protective. Here, he can let the other characters fend for themselves. While there are battles and some Asgardians do get injured and, I guess, die, there's little sense of real peril without any regular humans around. It's another reason why the comedic approach works so well.

Chris Hemsworth, as we've seen in the previous Marvel movies and in his funny performance in the recent "Ghost Busters" film,  is gifted with a nice comic touch in addition to his super-heroic physique and good looks. It's a blast watching Thor interact with Doctor Strange, the Hulk, Valkyrie (played by the engaging Tess Thompson) and pretty much everyone else in the film.

While still not entirely convincing the CGI Hulk here has personality and the sense in which he and Thor argue over who is the strongest Avenger are a lot of fun. Even more so, however, are the scenes in which the Hulk transforms back into Bruce Banner, and we see Hemsworth goofing with Mark Ruffalo, who's shell-shocked to find himself on a weird alien world and, later, in Asgard itself.

Cate Blanchett, who is nigh unrecognizable in her huge Jack Kirby-styled headdress (crown? whatever), has fun in her role as Thor's bad big sister, Hela, slinking around and purring her nasty lines like a noveau Julie Newmar. And Tom Hiddleston is back again as Thor's other troublesome sibling, Loki.

And, even if they don't cotton to the humorous tone, Marvelmaniacs should still find a few things to love here. Along with Hela's headgear, there are lots of visual touches that come director from the Kirby and Walt Simonson Thor comics, along with numerous "in" reference to past storylines, such as Thor recounting the time when Loki turned him into a frog.

Other Easter eggs include cameos by Matt Damon, Hemsworth's brother Luke, and Sam Neill, along with, natch, Stan Lee in perhaps his best and funniest appearance in a Marvel film yet.

Lots of fun. I'm going again this weekend.

Review: "Gotta Get Up! The Songs of Harry Nilsson 1965-1972"

It's the great paradox of Harry Nilsson: He was a fantastic songwriter but is probably best known as a great singer.

His two biggest hits were penned by others: "Everybody's Talking'," featured in the film "Midnight Cowboy," is by folk singer Fred Neill, while his 1971 smash, "Without You," is by Pete Ham and Tom Evans of Badfinger. Meanwhile, Nilsson's version of his own tune, "One," stiffed, but topped the charts when recorded by Three Dog Night.

Apart from that tune, none of Nilsson's own songs were big hits when covered by other artists. But it wasn't for lack of trying. As this new compilation from Ace Records shows, lots of people recorded Nilsson tunes, and some of the versions are very good.

Ace is great at scouring the bins, finding obscure, overlooked singles that are well worth a listen, along with recordings by more familiar artists, and that's the case here.

Nilsson's catchy, tuneful songs were a natural fit for the Monkees, and their faithful versions of "Cuddly Toy" and "Daddy's Song" are included here, as are songs by sunshine poppers Harper's Bizarre and the 5th Dimension, both of whom do justice to Nilsson's soaring harmonies and baroque pop arrangements.

Nilsson fan/friend Al Cooper is featured twice, singing a nice version of "Without Her" with Blood, Sweat & Tears, and, on his own, a fascinating re-arrangement of "Mourning' Glory Story," which alternates sections performed entirely a cappella with sections of Dixieland brass.

For the most part, however, artists stick to the vaudeville meets circus meets the Beatles arrangements featured on Nilsson's own renditions of his songs, although Jose Feliciano nicely applies his "Light My Fire" approach to "Sleep Late, My Lady Friend," turning it into a lounge-y (n a good way), jazzy ballad featured strummed acoustic guitar, strings and a buildup to ecstatic, scatted vocals.

Nilsson's early attempts to break into the songwriting biz are on display, too.  Mostly, it's girl group fare and doesn't sound much like his later work, although "Paradise" by the Shangri-Las is a nice tune, as is the Beach Boys-style "This Could Be the Night," by the MFQ (formerly the Modern Folk Quartet), featuring production by Phil Spector. The song was a favorite of Brian Wilson, who attended the sessions and, years later, recorded his own version for a different Nilsson tribute album.

Some of the more oddball selections on this release include "Good Times," by British actor Alan Lake, husband of Diana Dors. Lake isn't the best singer, but its a great song, heard to best effect as the title track to the Monkees' surprisingly strong 2016 reunion album. Not so great is Andy Williams'  1973 "Remember," which just reminds one how much better Nilsson sings it. And, rather than Three Dog Night belting out the harmonies, we hear "One" in an instrumental version, recorded by Nilsson collaborator/arranger George Tipton

Most of the tunes collected here date from the 1960s and 1970s, with the exception of the opening, title track, sung by his daughter Annie. It's a nice version, though Annie didn't inherit her dad's range and quality of voice. And it doesn't fit well at the start. It would've been better as a bonus cut at the end.

The accompanying booklet is typically great - Ace does a nice job of these. Along with a brief biography of Nilsson, it outlines the history of the all the tracks and mentions lots of other Nilsson covers not included here. I'm up for volume 2 if they get around to it.

TV Party: "Twin Peaks: The Return"

Silly us, expecting answers and resolution in the return, after 25 years, of "Twin Peaks."

Those of us who hung in with the new series for all 18 episodes are likely feeling confused, annoyed, darkly amused and/or spellbound after this Sunday's conclusion. But, in the adjective lottery, I doubt few of us could claim "satisfied."

The new "Peaks" ended like the old one, open to myriad interpretations. Any threads wrapped up the vaguely satisfying penultimate episode were unraveled in the conclusion, with all sorts of new questions posed and left unanswered.

I figured early on, when it became apparent that Kyle McLachlan's "Dougie," a Chauncy Gardner-ized version of FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper, wasn't turning back into his lovable coffee-drinking self any time soon, that this was no "Brady Bunch Reunion." In fact, we saw very little of that Cooper. McLachlan spent most of his time as Dougie or as the dark, Demon Bob-possessed version of our hero (in our house, we called him "Booper.")

We didn't see as much of Twin Peaks, either. Much of the action took place away from that Northwest  hamlet, in the American Southwest. And when we did check in on Peaks, we found it was inhabited by all sorts of characters we'd never met, whose storylines were already in progress. Things hadn't stayed put for 25 years, we joined things in progress and had either to catch up, or do our best trying.

Amidst such change and mystery, we grasp on to what we do know, or think we know. Or we formulate our own theories in an effort to make sense of things. Maybe that's what Peaks creators David Lynch and Mark Frost intended.

The final episode shows us a Cooper (I don't know if he's "our" Cooper) seemingly trying to force facts to fit his conception of the mystery of Laura Palmer. He finds, through apparently random means, a woman who looks like Laura and brings her to Twin Peaks (or, a Twin Peaks) where nobody has every heard of her. Things don't fall back into place and Cooper seems as uncertain why as the rest of us. Puzzling out the meaning of Laura's death, or the roots and reasons for evil in our world, just brings more mystery, Lynch and Frost (seem to) say.

Lacking a satisfying dramatic conclusion to it all, I choose - and maybe it's just a copout or justification - to simply surrender to Lynch's dream/nightmare logic, enjoy all the stunning imagery, relish in the quirky humor, grasp what I can understand and accept that I'll never understand it all.

If this "Peaks" had somehow managed to provide satisfying answers and neatly tied-up loose ends, would it be successful? Would it even be "Twin Peaks"? I don't think so. Instead we're left unsatisfied and maybe even a little aggravated, but moved and affected by what we've seen. We'll be talking about this "Peaks" for a long time, just like the first one.

Silly us, expecting answers, when "Peaks" has always been about questions.

Pop Picks: The Beach Boys "1967: Sunshine Tomorrow"

This updated edition of the Beach Boys' underrated gem, Wild Honey, couldn't have arrived at a better time of year. It exudes laid-back, sunny fun.

The original album, presented here for the first time in true stereo, was mostly recorded at Brian Wilson's home with the Beach Boys, for the first time in many years, functioning as a real band.  There's a rocking, soulful-but-relaxed vibe to the whole affair. What the LP lacks in studio polish, it makes up for in gentle R&B flavored tunes and, of course, fantastic harmonies.

Carl Wilson steps out front for many of the lead vocals. I wouldn't call his vocal stylings blue-eyed soul, but he does give the songs an upbeat, credible energy that's informed by the mid-60s pop-R&B music in the air at this time. His cover of Stevie Wonder's "I Was Made to Love Her," for example, works just fine.

So does all the rest of the album. Track-by-track, this is a very strong package - perhaps the most consistently great album the group would ever make, although several very good releases followed in its wake.

Like the opening track and the Stevie Wonder cover, most of Wild Honey has a soulful, up-tempo feel. Only on a couple of tracks, the ethereal "Let the Wind Blow," and the goofy closer, "Mama Says," do we glance back at the experimentation and whimsy of Smile/Smiley Smile.

"Darlin'," another up-tempo number sung by Carl, is the most-fleshed out track, featuring Brian-arranged horn parts that demonstrate - despite all the stories of him being in creative retreat at this time - still at the top of his game.

Brian himself takes a strong, soulful lead vocal on "Here Comes the Night." He is still in great form here. His gentle lead and the "bah-bah-bah" backing vocals on "I'd Love Just Once to See You," meanwhile, sets the template for the "sunshine pop" sound that would emerge during the last years of the Sixties. The tune also has a funny, unexpected punchline, demonstrating the group's mischievous side.

Listeners mainly familiar with the Beach Boys through Pet Sounds should check out Wild Honey. Odds are they'll like it quite a bit. There's not a bad track on it.

Longtime fans, on the other hand, will enjoy the many extras in this new package. Along with being a great album, Wild Honey is also very short, and the rest of CD 1 and all of CD 2 in this release are packed with session outtakes and live rarities, most notably, tracks for the abandoned "live" album, Lei'd in Hawaii. Bootleg collectors have heard most of this material before, but it's nice to have it officially released in excellent sound.

The band originally planned to issue a live concert set recorded in Hawaii as a follow-up to the Smiley Smile album, but opted to record studio versions when the live tapes proved poor in quality. The intention was to "fake it" by over-dubbing live audience sounds over the newly recorded studio tracks.

So, here we have new, stripped-down studio recordings of Brian and the rest doing "Help Me, Rhonda," "California Girls," "Surfer Girl" and "Good Vibrations," among other classic tunes. Heard without dubbed over applause and cheers, they sound a bit bare. But the performances are interesting and the singing is very good. The standouts are Brian's cover of the Boxtops' "The Letter" and Bruce Johnson's lead on the Beatles' "With a Little Help from My Friends."

But that's not all, this new set also includes several bona fide live recordings dating from 1967 shows in the Mid-West, along with studio outtakes from both Wild Honey and Smiley Smile. The studio stuff is great. There are some complete alternative takes, instrumental backing tracks and a fair number of fragments. It's not something I'll return to a lot, but I love being able to hear all these isolated elements and layers that show Brian's brilliance as a vocal and instrumental arranger at work. There's never been anyone like him, before or since.

The live stuff, on the other hand, is as bit of a disappointment. The recordings are very, very good. It's the performances that spoil them. The band, particularly Mike Love with his laconic and dismissive  stage patter, don't seem into it, despite playing and singing fairly well. What might've been a batch of great live recordings, including tunes from Wild Honey, is spoiled as a result.

Still, this is a packed release, with much great listening on both disks. The new remix/remaster of the central album is very easy on the ears - not harsh or overly loud. Purists may insist on the original mono, but I can imagine listening to this new version a lot. The new stereo mix, without all the outtakes in this package, is also coming out on vinyl soon and may be worth a listen, too.

Pop Pick: "Jonny Quest: Original Television Soundtrack"

Everything, of course, was cool about Jonny Quest - the characters, the look, the action, the whole kid-as-adventure-hero premise - but one of the coolest was the swinging soundtrack.

Now that music gets its due in a limited edition, 2-CD package from the excellent outfit, La-La Land Records. The set is packed with jazzy, exotic, adventure-filled themes and cues that will soundtrack any scenarios you can conjure in your head. Lots of crackling drums, brass stabs and grooving bass, with the occasional tabla and flute thrown in. Most of the music was composed by Hoyt Curtin, who also created music for "Top Cat," "The Flintstones" and other series.

A detailed booklet provides great historical background on the series and how the music was created. You can order the album here.

Pop Picks: "Colossal"

"Colossal" is one of the most unusual, thought-provoking films I've seen in a while.

In fact, I agree with my wife, who said a day after we watched it: "The more I think about it, the more I like it."

And there's plenty to think about. Like "WTF? This is a movie about a woman who learns that she's controlling the actions of a gigantic, Godzilla-like monster that's attacking the buildings and citizens of Seoul, South Korea. How do you come up with an idea like that?"

But screenwriter Nacho Vigalondo did come up with such an idea, and it's pretty danged cool.

The woman/monster is Gloria (Anne Hathaway), a hard-drinking writer who loses her job and boyfriend and returns to her small hometown to maybe get her life together. There, she meets up with an old friend, Oscar, (Jason Sudeikis), who hires her to work at his divey bar. Then monster troubles ensue and all sorts of questions arise.

Is Gloria really a monster, or does she just feel like a monster? Or is it that people are treating her like a monster, when she isn't? Are the men in her life more monstrous than she is? Is she treating herself too monstrously, and shouldn't she just cut herself some slack?

Lots to think about. Viewed in terms of gender, self-image an expectations we/others place on ourselves, it's a fascinating, many nuanced story. It's also quite funny and moving at times. Plus, it has giant monsters. Well worth a look.

Review: "Hero-A-Go-Go: Campy Comic Books, Crimefighters and Culture of the Swinging Sixties"

We live in superhero-crazy times. Most of biggest films and many of our TV shows are populated by costumed characters. But this has all happened before - in a much bigger, wackier way.

In the mid-1960s, sparked by Susan Sontag's academic essay "Notes on 'Camp'," Jules Fieffer's "The Great Comic Book Heroes," the "Batman" TV series and a general wave of nostalgia, American culture exploded with superheroes and comic book love.

It didn't last long - maybe 1965 to 1970 or so - but it was a fun and glorious time, fully documented in this new book by comics scholar and Back Issue magazine editor Michael Eury.

Batmania is just the tip of the iceberg, here. Eury explores all facets of what he calls the "Camp Age of Comics." We look at the Green Hornet, James Bond-influenced spymania, short-lived TV series such as "Captain Nice," cartoons such as "Underdog" and "Space Ghost," Archie's superhero adventures as "Pureheart the Powerful," and much more. If it's of the sixties, goofy and tangentially related to comics and/or superheroes, it's here.

Eury even investigates some of the ads found in comic books of the time, such as the ad for a Superman vs. giant cyclops display at the 1964 World's Fair. Looks cool! Many comics fans have likely seen it in battered back issues and been similarly intrigued. But the pictures of the actual specimen Eury dug up feature a very creepy, mysteriously unshaven wax Man of Steel battling a similarly weird and creep - not a in a good way - monster.

There are a few interviews in the book, too, including one with "Lost in Space" star and sixties pop culture fan Bill Mumy and Dean Torrence, who details the back story of the cult classic "Jan and Dean Meet Batman" LP.

There's lot of picture-packed fun here for any fan of the 1960s, comic books and pop culture.