The Core Junction

The greatest band you’ve never heard of, Them Crooked Vultures (aka TCV) is comprised of Led Zeppelin bassist John Paul Jones, Nirvana drummer and Foo Fighters frontman Dave Grohl, and Queens of the Stone Age lead singer and guitarist Josh Homme. Together this tripartite, with the help of former QOTSA backup guitarist Alain Johannes during live performances, has been making a lot of noise at their live shows. Since their intimate live debut at the cozy Metro in Chicago on August 9, 2009, the Vultures have stirred speculation in the rock world about when an album would be released. With releasing just a few less-than minute long clips of studio songs, the Vultures still sold out most of their domestic and international shows.

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–Michael Shapiro, Managing Editor

Former University of Illinois mascot Chief Illiniwek

[As was published in the Columbia Daily Spectator on October 28, 2009]

What’s in a name?

In sports, a team’s nickname rarely merits a second thought. If you’re from the Bay Area, you might root for the Raiders and your best friend may support the 49ers. More than likely, you have an amiable rivalry.

But what if your team’s name might be considered offensive by some other party? What if you root for the Redskins or the Indians or the Braves or the Seminoles? Even team names like the Padres or the Yankees touch a nerve from time to time.

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I was lucky enough to have an opportunity to see a free, advance screening of Universal’s highly-anticipated film The Fourth Kind at Columbia University’s Alfred Lerner Hall on October 29, 2009. The Core Junction is proud to bring you this review, a week before the film’s November 6 theatrical release.

It seems that horror and thriller movies have entered a new era. The long-lived genre of grisly and sadistic horror—marked by Lionsgate’s Saw franchise over the last decade—is gradually being pushed aside by films that appeal to a different fear factor. The Fourth Kind falls into this up-and-coming genre of horror/thriller movies that tap a visceral core of human cognition and trepidation. Beginning with the 1999 sensation The Blair With Project, more and more films are choosing to cut back on gratuitous gore and violence and take a more original approach to scare audiences. The 2008 blockbuster Cloverfield and, most recently, Oren Peli’s Paranormal Activity, are also founding fathers of this “genre”. While The Fourth Kind ultimately isn’t as successful as its predecessors, it takes an original approach on an audacious premise of alien abduction.

The Fourth Kind begins with an introduction by lead actress and former Resident Evil star Milla Jovovich, who dramatizes psychiatrist Dr. Abigail Tyler in the film. Jovovich explains that every scene is supported by real archive footage but, in the end, it is up to the audience to decide whether or not what they are seeing is real. She also says that real names of people have been changed for privacy purposes. Jovovich then closes her remarks stating, “Some of what you are about to see is extremely disturbing.” To some extent, she is right.

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[As was published in the Columbia Daily Spectator on October 28, 2009]

When Barack Obama was elected to the presidency, a sense of euphoria overcame (at least half) of the nation. Standing in the midst of a crowd of celebrating students outside the Columbia gates on the night of Nov. 4, I couldn’t help but wonder (and fear) if Obama had actually managed to spark a partisan realignment, banishing the Republicans to the history books alongside the Whigs of the 19th century. Less than a year into his presidency, however, my initial fears seem to have been poorly founded, as Obama shows the indications of political mortality.

Like every incoming president, Barack Obama decided to take advantage of his political capital and embark upon an ambitious legislative agenda early on in his term. This endeavor is usually marked by hubris on the part of the president and hurts his poll numbers. Yet, the fierce debates over the stimulus and health care reform seem to have bludgeoned Obama more than they bludgeoned any of his recent predecessors. A recent Gallup poll puts Obama’s approval rating at 53 percent, down from 62 percent in April. In fact, he has suffered “the steepest [decline in popularity] of any president at the same stage of his first term in more than 50 years,” a recent article in the Telegraph states. Given that Obama entered office with an approval rating of 78 percent, one has to wonder how such a popular political figure has seemingly fallen from the grace of the American public.

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[As was published in the Columbia Daily Spectator on October 12, 2009]

By now, we’re all familiar with Frank Caliendo’s comedy routines poking fun at football broadcaster John Madden. Aside from his obscenely accurate impression, Caliendo’s routine is inherently aided by the fact that Madden really does take enormous amounts of time to describe simple football plays and strategy.

But recently, I’ve started to think that Caliendo has identified a greater trend in sports—simply horrible broadcasting.

For those who aren’t frequent viewers, a traditional sports broadcast consists of one play-by-play announcer who describes the actual happenings on the field and one color analyst who discusses how and why certain actions occurred.

With the explosion of television offerings, more and more sports are on the air. And while this is certainly a good thing, the amount of intelligent announcers unfortunately has not increased, resulting in lots of confusing and underwhelming broadcasts.

But even in the realm of highly visible sporting events, broadcasting these days is just plain awful. While watching the Yankees-Twins this weekend, one color analyst tried to make a point by comparing pitcher Mariano Rivera’s cut fastball to a BMW changing lanes on the German Autobahn. I guess I sort of get the reference, but then again NO, I don’t—and why isn’t there a more appropriate way to say “Gee, that pitch moves a lot”? Read the rest

[As was published in the Columbia Daily Spectator on September 30, 2009]

In many ways, Michael Jordan’s Hall of Fame induction a few weeks ago caused me to think about my childhood and the constant impact that sports have had on my life.

As Jordan proceeded to give his (bizarre) speech, I couldn’t help but recall the hundreds of memories from my childhood that I have of him. Growing up in Chicago in the ’90s, Michael Jordan was all I knew.

While I was certainly young during Jordan’s development as a player, I clearly remember the rivalries, the amazing shots, and the championships. I remember going to the Bulls games, and will never forget that distinct starting lineup ceremony that so many teams have tried to emulate: “And now … the starting lineup … for YOUR, Chicago BULLS!”

But in a weird way, I know deep down that I didn’t fully appreciate Jordan & Co. when I was younger. To be honest, most of the regular season games were boring: the Bulls just steamrolled over the competition and the outcome was usually predictable.

Regardless of my memories of Jordan, his induction to the Hall of Fame was one of the first times that I had witnessed a player enter the league, rise to greatness, retire, and finally obtain recognition. And like many sports fans, I couldn’t help but feel some sadness during Jordan’s induction. All at once, I realized that I would never see him play again and that because of his status as the greatest player ever, I would likely never see anyone like him play again. But because I grew up with Michael Jordan, the realization that a certain part of my life is over only added to my meditative thoughts.

I know that I’m only 21 years old, but for the last few weeks I’ve been trying to figure out why I haven’t had this experience more often. Read the rest