FILM: 'Lucy' in the Sky with LOTS of Blue Diamonds

Summer movies are a time for big-budget, popcorn-level ridiculousness. But is it too much to ask us to use our brain? OK, how about 1.4% of our brain.

Brain power is the topic at hand in French director Luc Besson's new film Lucy. Besson is a man not known for subtlety, realism, or depth, but they all can't be Bergman can they?

The conceit of Lucy (let me keep it brief as not to offer too many spoilers) is that humans normally only use 10% of our cerebral power (a widely spread cliche), so what if by chemical means, humans could use more: 20, 30, 40, up to 100%? The means? Obviously, it is having massive amounts of synthetic hormones surgically inserted into your body as a drug mule (in a very unsafe looking thin plastic sack).

Scarlett Johansson is one such (albeit unwitting) drug mule. The fun of the "get to the chase" set-up of the movie is palpable. There is barely an intro to her character before she is thrust into a world of killer Taiwanese mobsters, locked briefcases, assassins, chases, guns blazing, and mysterious surgeries.

The Run Lola Run fast-paced flight of the film is a gas. Taiwan to Berlin to Paris, it all whizzes by. No matter how this party girl student becomes knowledgeable in heavy firearm use, acrobatic fight choreography, learning foreign languages, massive amounts of cash to buy designer heels and same-day international, first-class flights from Asia to Europe (she's a student, right?), it can all be explained away.

Bright blue crystal superdrugs.

You should expect no less from the creator of The Professional, The Fifth Element, and a Joan of Arc reboot. Besson is ridiculous and if you shut off your brain, you can learn to love him too.

MUSIC: Time for 'Church'

Sinead O'Connor's new album I'm Not Bossy, I'm the Boss is out this month and this, the lead single is out now. Her last album, 2012's How About I Be Me, was a better than you'd expect, a somewhat return to form. Even with that DREADFUL cover art, it was her best album since 1994's Universal Mother.

The new single is a big anthemic pop number, Sinead in 'rock-out' vibe. Every one of her album's has a few to go along with the delicate, beautiful ballads. She'll never be 19 and angry again (we have to let it go), so it will never be The Lion and the Cobra (just as The Cure will never get back Kiss Me, Morrissey will never get another The Queen is Dead, etc.)

For a 47-year-old mother of four, she can still rip off wigs, rock bald heads, and strike a guitar chord in a tight dress like a true star.

MUSIC: La Rude

Taking five years to make your long-awaited second album has killed careers. If you don't believe me, check out The Stone Roses' Second Coming or Elastica's The Menace. They both never recovered.

2009 saw the debut album release of the androgynously elfin Elly Jackson (aka La Roux). Released amid the "Girls with Synths" flush of 2008-09 (a genre I also coined as 'The L Word Ladies'; La Roux, Little Boots, Ladyhawke, Lady Gaga; I know I'm missing a few), her debut album stood out among the clan. Not only did her junior Tilda Swinton looks disengage her from the blonde sexpots, her flutey, sometimes shrill vocals made her even more distinct. It's 21st century pop; you've got to stand out somehow because the market is flooded.

After years of resting up, throat issues, splitting with bandmates (Ben Langmaid was her writing partner/keyboardist, the silent/hidden other half a la Will Gregory of Goldfrapp), nerves, etc., she's come back with Trouble in Paradise (indeed). Gone is most (not all) of the tinny, trebley, shrill "electronics only" approach of the self-titled debut. Having said that, gone is a lot of the thrill of her laptop take on the early '80s synthpop of Yaz and Eurythmics. There is no 'Bulletproof' here.

Trouble has a warmer, slightly fuller sound to combat the cries of her being a one-style wonder or aping the debut. But where as La Roux was full on 1983, Trouble is full on 1986. It should be written in stone somewhere, the early '80s beats the mid '80s every time.

There are a few bright spots on the album though, don't get me wrong. Opener 'Uptight Downtown' adds the strum of funk guitar and a smoother singing style overall (keeping this up for most of the album):

Several tracks on the LP follow this style, sort of if a lightweight version of Grace Jones' early '80s backing band was fronted by a young Annie Lennox. OK, maybe not as cool as that sounds.

Trouble does get its mid 80s spirit right; the album is only nine tracks long - some killer ('Sexotheque', some filler ('Paradise is You'). But I have faith in Jackson to come back with another album sooner rather than later. Here's hoping she follows kindred spirit Lennox's path, but avoids the "We like guitars!"/rock-isms of Eurythmics' Revenge and goes straight for Eurythmics' Savage.

MUSIC: Morrissey is None of Your Business

Morrissey had everything stacked against him once 2014 began. It had been five years since he last released an album (the career nadir that was Years of Refusal; I refused it.) Countless cancelled shows and tours, health woes, increasingly over-the-top political and social statements, and dumping his long-term opening act/friend Kristeen Young for giving him a cold; the man was teetering on becoming a buffoon cartoon and then falling in head first to irrelevance.

Needless to say, I had low hopes when a new album was announced late last year. Then, the long-gestating Autobiography was released and I read it with relish. Despite one-fifth of the book being devoted to his late '90s court case alone, it contained so many insights into the making of a male diva. By the last page, I had renewed faith in Moz.

Oh yeah, that album - World Peace is None of Your Business. It was finally released this week. After reading a middling review on Pitchfork and a glowing review on The Quietus (my two main musical news outlets), I had to get to the bottom of it. I bought the Deluxe Edition (True to the description, it adds six additional songs, ostensibly making this the first (studio) double album of Morrissey's entire career; too much?) I decided to test out my first listen in the most un-Morrissey of locations: on the elliptical machine at the gym.

I have to admit I was pleasantly surprised. Does it sail to the solo triumphs of the late '80s/early '90s? Of course not, but it is his most solid offering in many, many years and probably his most musically interesting in decades. We all know Morrissey isn't a musician per se and pretty much plays producer/bandleader/yes or no man for his group of musicians/songwriting partners. Thankfully he's let them spread their wings this time. No more albums full of guitar/bass/drums mid-tempo plodding rockers. I couldn't take another album of them, honestly. Moz needed to give up his need to "ROCK." I wasn't convinced he could. I was wrong.

Flamenco guitar, harps, piano, accordion, organ, horns and more pepper this album; a didgeridoo (of all things) opens the affair! The man has trusted his band to expand their palate and they take him up on the offer. Morrissey also embraces his appetite for ballads again and places a few of them neatly throughout the album. I thought his ballads were going to be a lost art.

Flashes to his past shine through, in both music and lyrics. The chugging drums and bass come in at 2:43 on "I'm Not a Man" reminding me of the thrust of "The Last of the Famous International Playboys," while the sprightly strum of "Staircase at the University" could have been a Bona Drag outtake. "Kiss Me A Lot" is a sequel to 2004's "Let Me Kiss You"; in fact, sequels seem to appear elsewhere on this album. 'Istanbul' is the flipside of 'Piccadilly Palare' - father searching for a city-bound runaway teenage son. 'Kick the Bride Down the Aisle' follows the story of The Smiths' 'William, It Was Really Nothing': wedding-craving, wanna-be bride and Morrissey 30 years later, still sticking his nose in.

A new interest in life outside of the English kitchen-sink dramas shows that Morrissey is no longer as provincial as his critics like to clamor on about. Places name-checked on this album include Turkey, Spain, Scandinavia, Egypt, Greece, "Ukraine to Bahrain"; Morrissey's interest in the world around him has expanded further than anyone could have imagined from the Meat is Murder days.

And let us not forget the words, his stock in trade. Although for some bewildering reason the Deluxe Edition of this digital album does not come with a lyrics booklet (grrrr), just hearing his crisp elocution, you can hear that the man has not lost his edge, even when 18 tracks seems a few too many. Maybe writing 457 pages of an autobiography made him reset his lyrical mind.

"Neal Cassady drops dead/and Allen Ginsberg's tears shampoo his beard/Neal Cassady drops dead/and Allen Ginsberg's hosed down in a barn"

"Or they will disable you with tasers/that's what government's for"

"Don Juan picaresque wifebeater vest"

"Staircase at the university/she threw herself down/and her head split three ways"

Oh, I live for his attention to detail. He's one of the reasons I wanted to become a lyricist. Just those few gems (of many here) made me smile. Maybe he didn't pack up shop back in the mid '00s, after all.

MUSIC: 5-10-15-20: Me at: 10 (1982): Culture Club 'Kissing to be Clever'

I believe my first piece of recorded music I bought with my own money was The Go-Go's 'We Got the Beat' 45. I bought it for 25 cents from a neighbor kid; his loss. I was also a pro at taping songs off of Top 40 radio; this was the era of blank audio cassettes, mind you. What a mind-blowing invention, one that had kids across America holding up portable tape recorders to TV sets and speakers to record the music.

But the first full album that I bought (on cassette, of course) was Culture Club's Kissing to be Clever. That quick trip to K-Mart with my mother that day brought me closer to pop fandom.

I had seen the band on 'Solid Gold', America's version of the UK's 'Top of the Pops' (plus sexy dancers), the week before. Watching Culture Club perform 'Time (Clock of the Heart)' with my older sister, I was mesmerized by Boy George's look, presence, and of course, voice.

"You know that that's a guy, right?" my sister told me.

"No way!" I said. Ten-year-old mind blown.

It threw me into a world of New Wave, British pop, and music videos. I was sold.

MUSIC: 5-10-15-20: Me at: 5 (1977): Meco 'Star Wars Disco'

OK, so I'm cribbing the idea from Pitchfork's ongoing series '5-10-15-20,' but since they aren't going to be interviewing me anytime soon, I thought I'd start my own version for this blog, ages 5-40. I recommend to my readers to do their own. It's a clever and rewarding experience to dig through your own musical past.

Me at: 5 (1977)
Song: Meco - 'Star Wars Theme - Disco version)

Obviously, when you are only five-years-old you are at the musical whim of whatever your parents are buying or listening to. I was five to my brother's eight and we were both obsessed with Star Wars, as was any child of our age/generation. Anything Star Wars, everything Star Wars. Even a rinky-dink 'disco' cover of the theme song. It's novelty records like this that are made for children. They don't see the stupidity of it all, only the fun.

I remember my parents record player in the basement. Picture a giant, seven-foot long brown wooden credenza; open the lid and you'll find the record player and the storage for all those 45s. Is five to young to operate a stereo and load up 45s on the turntable? I was a pro. I remember endlessly twirling around to this Star Wars theme on the basement floor.

My alternate jam and second favorite 45 was ABBA's 'Knowing Me, Knowing You.' I think I stared at this cover for hours in my childhood, thinking they were sooo beautiful, even though Benny and Bjorn looked kinda like neighborhood dads. Maybe if I walked around my snowy Minneapolis in 1977 I would have seen these two couples in the window?

MUSIC: It's Raining Today

Speaking of 30th anniversaries, the weekend of May 4th, 1984 gave us two genius artistic presents: the previously blogged about 16 Candles and this beautiful gem, Echo and the Bunnymen's fourth studio album Ocean Rain.

Before you even hit play, you could gaze at that cover image for hours. Such beauty in the cobalt blue glow of it all. Then there's the music:

This single 'The Killing Moon' (given a re-evaluation, after its striking placement at the beginning of the film Donnie Darko), is gorgeous encapsulation of this album. It's the post-punk gloomy rock of the band's origins, but put through a filter of strings and tinkling synths.

Album opener 'Silver' bustles with spirit and is anthemic in a different way than their contemporaries/rivals U2. This album has all the drama and majesty of U2's War and The Unforgettable Fire, but none of the Christian imagery or self-righteous pomposity. Ocean Rain is a much more romantic, melancholy, surreal, dreamlike experience than Bono and co.'s mid-'80s output.

It's hard not to get lost in the epic sway and beauty of the title track:

The Bunnymen are about to release a new studio album, Meteorites, this month. The lead single 'Lovers on the Run' has a slight Ocean Rain resemblance without aping the sound. Kudos to the band for coming back again with a great new single, 35 years on from their origins.