Blog — Page 271 of 279

Well, it's high time that progressive music got a good, high-ish-profile awards show, and now, thanks to Prog Magazine, we have one. The bad news is that it stlil shows signs of being the fledgling event that it is. So based off of the nominees for this year, here's my analysis of what they've done right and what they've done wrong.

First of all, there are a few questionable entries in the album of the year field. The inclusions of Yes's Fly From Here and Opeth's Heritage seem more like pandering to the base than anything else--they were both decent albums, but are more included seemingly for their notoriety than actual quality. Yes is the classic progressive rock band that everyone loves, and Opeth is both the token progressive death metal and the token modern prog artist that are name-dropped when you're talking to someone who only has the most shallow understanding of the genre. And the inclusion of Nightwish as a progressive band is laughable; undeniably they have progressive elements, but are far from a full-blown progressive act. The only album I haven't heard was It Bite's Map of the Past, so I can't really speak to its inclusion.

However, there are a few obvious snubs. They don't list the cutoff date, but depending on exactly what day it is (somehwere between 8 and 22 June), Symphony X's Iconoclast may have been eligible. If it was, its omission is flabbergasting). That album was the perfect two-disc realization of symphonic prog by one of the most established bands in the modern scene, and dropping it at the expense of Nightiwsh is a slap to the face. Another high-profile snub can be found in Diablo Swing Orchestra's Pandora's Piñata, being one of the finest avant-garde albums ever released, not to mention receiving universal praise upon its release. And though they are definitely more of a fringe band, Swedes Vidhjarta definitely deserved to be on for their perfection of djent music with måsstaden, or, at a minimum, as some kind of affirmation that death metal was getting any recognition at all. I'm also surprised Ian Anderson's Thick as a Brick 2 wasn't included for consideration, especially given the high profile and high quality of its release, not to mention the slew of other awards Anderson was nominated for.

Completely ignoring Dream Theater's A Dramatic Turn of Events and The Mars Volta's Noctourniquet were great decisions, however--I think we can all agree that those albums blew, and including them would have been incredibly obvious pandering to the fanbase. At least they're above that. The inclusion of Anathema's Weather Systems is a pleasant surprise, however. It's good to see that they are willing to branch out to a few bands that aren't part of the established 'canon' of prog bands when they deserve it, and believe me, Weather Systems fucking deserves it. Its inclusion here gives me hope for the diversity of future years.

As for the 'Vsionary' award, recongizing bands with a heavy progressive influence that otherwise stray from the genre, most of these were safe choices, with acts like Radiohead and Muse being incredibly obvious selections. However, the snub for Primus is unacceptable--though I'm not disparaging any of the bands on there, if there's any one that actually deserves it, it's them. In addition, it seems odd that experimental math rock band Battles didn't at least get a nod, considering their creative music and escalating popularity.

I can't really criticize the choices for the lifetime achievement category, but for the first 10 or so years, the selections here are gonna be hella predictable. I'm betting on Pink Floyd, Yes, Genesis, Rush, King Crimson, Jethro Tull, ELP, Moody Blues, Van der Graaf Generator, Kansas, and maybe Queen all winning it before we actually get some interesting names here. Until then, it's basically just gonna be safe self-congratulation. The same thing applies to the 'Prog God' category, though I'm still wondering how the hell Kate Bush and Steve Hillage got nominations before David Gilmour.

As for the 'Guiding Light' award, recognizing artists continually pushing the boundaries of progressive music, these are again mostly safe choices, with Mikael Åkerfeldt, Steven Wilson, Mike Portnoy, and Robert Fripp all being very obvious selections. However, there are also a few glaring snubs in this category. Most notably, where the fuck is Devin Townsend? He is the single greatest stand alone artist in progressive music today; that man deserves a second house to store all of the accolades he should be receiving. To a lesser degree, the same applies to Ayreon frontman and solo artist Arjen Lucassen, Tool and A Perfect Circle frontman Maynard James Keenan, and Montréal-based post-rocker Efrim Menuck--these are all visionary musicians, and without them, it's safe to say the modern progressive music scene would be much less interesting.

Of course, were this a perfect world, Ben Sharp would get some kind of recognition for his Cloudkicker project, creating independently-released music that's achieved him notoriety most bands only dream of. But that's not likely to happen ever. Until then, we can only hope he keeps releasing music with as high a standard as he holds himself to.

Back on topic, a lot of talented musicians were snubbed from the 'Virtuoso' category too, such as Meshuggah bandmates Tomas Haake and Fredrik Thordendal, Gojira drummer Mario Duplantier, solo guitarist Devin Townsend (yes, him again), and most glaringly, Rush drummer Neil Fucking Peart. Seriously, the guy is the greatest drummer ever--Mike Portnoy is nothing without him. The inclusion of ELP and Asia drummer Carl Palmer was a pleasant and well-deserved surprise, though; he is definitely amongst the criminally underrated performers in prog music.

I can't really speak much to the 'New Blood' and 'Anthem' categories, recognizing new artists and great individual songs respectively, mostly because I haven't heard enough of the artists represented. However, I will say that Steven Wilson's "Raider II" and Squackett's "A Life Within a Day" were both very underwhelming tracks, so I can't imagine the other selections were of a stellar calibre either. Diablo Swing Orchestra's "Justice for Saint Mary", Rush's "Headlong Flight", and Ian Anderson's "A Change of Horses" would've all been much better selections. Additionally, while not bad, TesseracT's debut One wasn't much to write home about, so their inclusion in the new artists category is a bit surprising, and admittedly colours my impression of the rest of the selections.

The 'Grand Design' category is a bit odd, praising special and deluxe versions of albums. Mostly, they're pretty agreeable decisions. King Crimson's Panegyric Reissues in particular deserve to be on there, and though they were a bit excessive, Pink Floyd's Immersion reissues are also a good selection. The only severe oversight would be Death's reissue campaign from late 2011, including the amazing Individual Thought Patterns reissue, the standard-bearer album for tech death. Other than that, it's a pretty unobjectionable, if odd, category.

On a general note, the total lack of any progressive subgenre music is appalling--there's no post-rock/post-metal music to speak of, no tech metal, and the only death metal bands with a nod (Opeth and Anathema) received them for clean vocal albums. I'm really hoping for some branching out in years to come, because those are huge subgenres to be ignored in favour of the easy stuff, especially in a genre of music that prides itself on originality and experimentation.

In general, it's full of safe, low-controversy, relatively unsurprising choices, which is somewhat par for the course for an awards event in its first year, and while some of those artists did legitimately dserve the recognition they got, far too many seemed to be appeasement selections. In years to come, here's hoping for more death metal, more post-rock, and more Devin Townsend.

You may now return to your regularly scheduled punk and hardcore tomfoolery.

Japandroids

7th St. Entry

Minneapolis, MN

July 7, 2012

When a touring band starts their set by saying, “It feels like we’re back home, Minneapolis”, the natural instinct is to go Okay, yeah sure buddy— I bet you said the same thing last night in Chicago/Milwaukee/Madison/Detroit/somewhere in Canada/etc.  But when Japandroids lead singer and guitar player Brian King said it to a sell-out crowd Tuesday night, the eager, packed-in audience opted to believe him.  Minneapolis, for all of our shameless self-loving scenesterism, can be a fussy crowd; often times offering our lesser-known hometown bands nothing but folded arms and blank stares.  That being said, we tend to treat out-of-towners—at least those with a good amount of buzz—really, really well.  So it comes without surprise that Japandroids, who are in heavy rotation locally on both 89.3 The Current and 770 AM Radio K, were welcomed with open arms.

Personally I was hesitant to believe the hype surrounding the Vancouver-based guitar and drums duo when their first album Post-Nothing was released in ’09, and admittedly, not for any justifiable reason.  Basically I wanted to hate them because I was already a Japanther fan, and these guys—being a another two man band with “Japan” in their name, who played punk-informed anthemic indie rock—were seemingly more popular and thus were a threat to my self-created DIY-loving-cool-guy world. After all, we Twin Cityans had already dealt with a similar situation a couple of times:  First, at the height of the early ’00 garage rock revival an Australian band calling themselves The D4 started making the press rounds, while our beloved bar punkers the Dillinger Four, who are affectionately referred to as D4, who had been killing it for years, went largely unnoticed outside of the smallish punk world.  Then, a few years later, the indie-rock universe was going bananas for Vampire Weekend, while our very own Vampire Hands had been creating  far more original and better music and for quite a bit longer but without the attention of Spin Magazine and Pitchfork.  So, while Japanther was not a TC band, as a fan of them, all the attention ‘droids was getting upset me just the same.  Then one day, seconds away from murdering the Internet because it wouldn’t shut up about Japandroids, for some strange reason—almost as if I was being controlled by a mind not my own—I went out and bought Post-Nothing.  I’ve been hooked on them ever since; snatching up their collection of old EPs No Singles in ‘10, and of course, the new album a few weeks ago.  In retrospect it was quite silly to try and dismiss a band—even without hearing them—based on the fact that they have a similar name and makeup of another band I already liked.

So, on the last night of their American tour, Japandroids landed at the legendary 7^th Street Entry in downtown Minneapolis (where the Replacements once played five nights in a row in October of ’85 and where Atmosphere did an eight night stand twenty years later) to blow off some steam before the long, show-less drive back to Vancouver.  Despite the hellish temperatures (a heat index up around 107 degrees Fahrenheit) King and drummer David Prowse played as if it had nothing left to lose; like they literally did live here and could just go home and pass out after the show.  They frantically and sometimes sloppily, bashed through every track from their outstanding new record Celebration Rock.  The songs that seemed to garner the most crowd participation were the lead-off single “The House That Heaven Built”; with its overabundance of ooh-ooh-ooh sing-a-long parts, the youthful drinking anthem “Younger Us”, and the album opener “The Nights Of Wine and Roses”; which was preceded by King urging everyone to check out The Dream Syndicate album by the same name, saying that the creation of Celebration Rock was influenced heavily by it.  The set was rounded out with select gems from Post-Nothing such as “Young Hearts Spark Fire”, “Wet Hair” and one of my personal favorites, “Sovereignty.”  It was an oddly touching few minutes, as the Minneapolis crowd, who has its own love/hate relationship with finicky weather, proudly sang along to the PNW anthem: “It’s raining in Vancouver, but I don’t give a fuck.”

Of interest was how, even though it was an 18+ show, the majority of the audience seemed to be in their late 20s to even early 40s.  (No doubt, a result of the Current’s affect on the local music scene—it’s undeniable, indie rock crowds have gotten older here since they debuted on-air in ‘05.  It’s something that is quite heartwarming to see actually.)  Near the end of the set they played the final song off of Celebration Rock, “Continuous Thunder.” Despite the band’s apologetic nature for playing “a slow one” it was near-perfect moment, as the lyrics, centered around lost love, resonated well with the us older attendees that may have a bit more life experience under our belts in that department.

The final song of the encore-less performance was a lengthy, raucous version of a Gun Club cover, “For the Love of Ivy”, in which it looked at times like the band might go into instrument-smashing mode.  They didn’t however, which was kind of disappointing, but they did look completely spent, as if they gave it everything that had left in them.  And that alone was completely satisfying.  Besides, everyone else down on the floor looked just as exhausted.  But we actually got to go home and pass out afterwards. Godspeed Japandroids!

Japandroids:  http://japandroids.com/

7^Th St. Entry: http://first-avenue.com/taxonomy/term/14

LeBron James is Four Titles and a Rape Allegation Away From Becoming Kobe Bryant: How the Miami Heat Winning is Bad for Basketball

Now I know that we here at Scene Point Blank are first and foremost a music webzine, and I respect that. But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk a little ah, culture from time to time; especially over here on the blog. Yes, the blog—this little nugget of mere existence inconspicuously tucked away in the shadowy, tumbleweed-rolling, less-traveled area of the site. Even on ye olden blogge it’s mostly music, what with it being the main area for concert reviews and festival wrapups and all. But if you’re not paying close enough attention, you might just miss the hardworking wordsmith Sarah giving a thorough and thoughtful analysis of a Catholic dating websites or every so often—as in four years ago—someone tossing out 140 character-esque micro-updates (which pre-date Twitter, I might add) about oddly enough, the Cleveland Browns. So, I ask you to forgive me in advance, or like, stop reading right now if you’re not into the non-music stuff, because I am going to talk about basketball for a minute. Specifically LeBron James, who along with his neatly—and very publically and shamelessly—assembled squad of bad guys just won the NBA Finals Championship last night. They beat the good guys, the Oklahoma City Thunder, in a decisive 3 games to 1.

I’ll spare you the details of the back story, as I’m sure most people that made it past that last sentence are familiar with The Decision and subsequent The Promise, and how up until 12 hours or so ago, the immaturity, premature celebratory thoughtlessness and downright ridiculousness of those “events” combined to simultaneously create the biggest villain(s), the most highly scrutinized player & team, and ultimately (and previous to last night) the most comical and unanimously applauded failure in NBA Finals history. Hell, even if you pay a minuscule amount of attention to pop culture—as in turn on a TV once in a while—chances are high that you know about LeBron James and the Miami Heat and how they didn’t win the title when they promised the world they would. After all basketball and the NBA in particular, is the one sport that has made the biggest cultural impact and successively stayed culturally relevant, pop as it were or otherwise.

As far as I am concerned, that last statement is an unarguable fact. It certainly isn’t hockey, as a good friend of my once implied. Oh no; of any other sport, it could never EVER be hockey. Culturally speaking—as in the culture of hockey and the culture of basketball—the two are very similar, yes. They have rabid fan bases, they exercise a steadfast unwillingness to accept the other as a credible sport, and they are racially dominated as it relates to the best players—traditionally speaking, that is. Not to mention, as far as throwback emblems go, both the NBA and NHL team logos look really rad on snap-back caps. But as far as cultural impact and relevance is concerned, basketball is second to none. Internationally, soccer, or as the rest of the world that isn’t the United States calls it, Futbol, is not far behind. But other than that, the only thing close—and I know you’re going to laugh at this but that doesn’t make it untrue—is professional wrestling. But that’s an argument for another time. Ultimately, hockey is a wealthy person’s game. Not everyone can afford all the equipment and ice time, whereas all it takes to shoot hoops is a ball and cylinder. Not to mention the obvious parallels and crossovers between basketball and hip-hop. And well, I needn’t say more about hip-hop’s relevance in pop culture. Also, there is your musical reference to make this SPB legit.

Anyway, I’m getting totally sidetracked here (which is fine since this a blog post, amirite) when all I really wanted to discuss was how sad it makes me that LeBron’s version of the Heat, in only their second year of existence, have won the Championship. In the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit that I’m a huge Oklahoma City Thunder fan. (When they are not competing against my hometown favorites, the Minnesota Timberwolves that is—shoutout to my boys K-Love, Ricky Rubio [get well soon], D-Will, and Michael Beasley [don’t trade him!]) And yes, I am disappointed that they lost, but what makes me most sad is that the Heat’s Championship win could possibly be the end of what I thought was a great, albeit brief, era in NBA fandom: the LeBron Haters.

Initially I felt a nagging uneasiness with my personal hating on LeBron. Traditionally speaking, I’m a certified Laker-hater, so I am no stranger to wishing ill will against a team, or specifically a star player—such as the completely unlikable out-of-court-settling-(alleged)-anal-rapist, Kobe Bryant. At one time it was comforting, as Kobe inches closer to retirement, that I could see a future NBA where I didn’t have to hate on someone. (As a Minnesota Vikings fan, let me tell you, it is hard living in a state that seems to be as equally populated with annoyingly calloused shit-talking Packer Backers. [Here’s an idea: if it’s so great, then move to Green Bay, you asshole.] Hating takes a lot of energy, believe me.) But then LeBron went and did that thing…and that other thing…and then had to audacity to wonder why people didn’t like him, and that made him even more unlikeable, and before you knew it I hated that motherfucker too. But I didn’t really want to. I didn’t like the feeling of hating LeBron and the Heat but I couldn’t help but hate. Nobody could help it. And then something really awesome happened because of that helplessness. LeBron’s heel turn (pro-wrestling terminology, hell yeah) became the unifying factor that brought together all of us basketball fans (that aren’t Miami) to zealously spirit a singular objective: Anybody wins but the Heat!

Eventually hating on LeBron and the Heat turned into something not at all stressful, but rather it was the opposite—it was, well, in a word, fun. We, the LeBron haters, analyzed every single missed shot and end-of-game decision to pass the ball rather than man-up, and tooled it into a justifiable means for our collective hating. It was a blast! As well, we dissected every little nauseating plea-for-approval-esque Tweet—whether it be teasing the idea that he would enter the Dunk Competition or riding Blake Griffin’s bandwagon after he rim-rocked all over Kendrick Perkin’s head. He was so desperate to be liked again, that it made us hate on him even more. What a gas! And we pretended to be mad as hell when the Heat came out to pre-game warmups wearing hoodies after the Trayvon Martin murder; postulating that they were more concerned with seizing the opportunity to sway public opinion back in their favor, than they were actually raising awareness and paying homage to Trayvon. Even though LeBron is an adult and a multimillionaire who lives in the public eye where unrestricted civic scrutiny is totally acceptable, we were treading dangerously close to bullying territory. Yes, we had a grand old time hating on LeBron!

And now, with an impressive team-driven Championship win by the Heat, and even more so, an incredible critic-silencing series of performances by LeBron, the hating will undoubtedly begin to abate. And I am completely saddened by this. My only solace is knowing that, despite winning the championship, LeBron can’t help but look at his Twitter feed (because you know he is) and see some of the last dying flames of #hashtag hatred rolling in, and wonder to himself, “Why do these people still hate me?” And that makes me laugh a little.

Here’s to hoping we can all keep the communal good times that are LeBron Hating alive and well. I for one am just not ready let it go yet. I mean there is always Dwight Howard next year, but that’s kind of a stretch. Come on everybody let’s stay hatin’ on this fool! After all, he promised "Not one, not two, not three..."

PS—How this all fits in with the sub-title of this piece blog post, admittedly, I am not really sure—I just thought it was a really clever of me, and I knew I should get up on the Internet before some hip-guy-sports & culture-writer from a blog website like, Grantland or Deadspin got to it before me. I call firsties!

Royal Headache, The Arrivals, Condominium

Triple Rock Social Club

Minneapolis, MN

June 9, 2012

It was with some intrigue and, admittedly, mostly trepidation that I made my way to the Triple Rock last night to see Sydney, Australia’s Royal Headache. Originally my curiosity had been piqued because Extreme Noise, the beloved local volunteer-run punk rock record store, was sponsoring the event. Rarely do they attach their name to something that isn’t completely worthwhile. Yet, my apprehension levels had skyrocketed right about the time I read Royal Headache’s press release, which stated “They craft tight, irresistible, R&B-inflected punk songs, and hone a universal message of redemption through passion.” Now I understand a thing or two about drumming up interest in a band, especially when paid to do so, so I was not scared off so much by the “universal message of redemption through passion” part. That’s just one of those puzzling strings of words that press release writers craft in hopes that it will give their product some attention. No, what made me cringe was the “R&B-inflected punk songs” part. Other than hip-hop or the increasingly rare musical side of Justin Timberlake, I don’t really get into “R&B-inflected” anything, let alone punk. In the early ‘00s when everyone was in front of the stage shaking their hips to the Bellrays or the Dirtbombs, I was at the bar irritably ordering more drinks, wondering how I got duped into believing this was punk. So, despite the chances being high that Royal Headache would be something I ultimately wasn’t going to enjoy, I begrudgingly drug myself off the couch and out the door to see what all the hubbub was about anyway. Besides, Condominium was one of the opening acts, and passing up an opportunity to see them would be foolish.

Condominium were as compelling as ever. If I had to guess, this was probably the first time many of the people present had seen them, as they were clearly the odd band out on the bill. Their brand of noisy, arty hardcore is best served in smaller rooms, but that didn’t stop them from winning over the sparsely populated crowd at the Triple Rock. Condominim has that It Factor, and they proved it again last night, just like they do every time out.

The Arrivals were next. Complete with the prerequisite beer bellies and beards, they played the type of music that, to the best of my knowledge, thrives amongst the pages of Raczorcake Magazine and annual festivals in Gainesville, FL. Unfortunately, at this point It doesn't come across as the loveable Midwestern pop-punk that it once was—now it’s more like schmaltzy classic rock. Not that all classic rock is bad (see: the Dazed and Confused soundtrack and its companion piece Even More Dazed and Confused) but this type was—it was just completely uninspired and tiresome. And made even more agonizing when they allowed the hopelessly unlikeable Jesse Thorson on stage during “Simple Pleasures In America.” Punk rock for bros, bro.

By the time Royal Headache took the stage they were well received by the small but enthusiastic audience. It was clear that the majority of the folks in attendance were familiar with the band’s record, as they were all singing along from start to end. I don’t know why, but I was slightly taken back at first by just how much everyone was into it. Bodies were gyrating at a feverous pace, believe me. I guess I was expecting there would be more people like me, which had not ever heard a lick of the band, but were there strictly on the basis that Extreme Noise put their stamp of approval on it. There were some—most notably Drew Ailes, singer of local hardcore standouts Brain Tumors—that looked a little bewildered by what they had stumbled upon, but for the most part, everyone seemed to be unabashedly enjoying themselves. It’s not hard to tell that Royal Headache comes from a punk background, as the band physically strikes a familiar hardcore pose—guitarist Law and bassist Joe, standing legs spread, heads bobbing; drummer Shorty pounding the skins on a smallish kit with intensity; Shogun the singer, stalking vehemently back and forth across the stage, holding the microphone close with both hands, and leaning out over the audience. If you saw these guys without sound, you’d think they were like Bear Trap or Manipulation or something. But, that’s the strange thing right there. Despite the ferocious energy put forth in appearance, the sound emanating from the stage was on a totally different level. It was sugary and sweet and clean and…well, it was pop music. There were certainly elements of soul, R&B, mod, and even ‘70s style punk, but by and large it was straight-up pop music. And they were playing it under a giant Extreme Noise banner behind that stage that said “PUNK ROCK.” Neither the band nor anyone boogying their asses off in the crowd seemed to be at all embarrassed by this and it was completely baffling to me. And in retrospect, that was actually pretty goddamn cool.

Royal Headache: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Royal-Headache/136799649689670

The Arrivals: http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Arrivals-Chicago/163820463656711?v=app_2405167945

Condominium: http://condominium-hellotomorrow.blogspot.com/

Extreme Noise Records: http://www.extremenoise.com/

Triple Rock Social Club: http://www.triplerocksocialclub.com/

Hot Water Music just released their new album, Exister, and recently spent a couple nights in So-Cal to warm up the new songs before they head out to Europe this . Scene Point Blank caught their show in Pomona with Touche Amore where they demonstrated that they have no intentions of slowing down.

I walked into The Glasshouse just in time to catch So-Cal natives, Joyce Manor. One thing's for sure, no matter where they play--basements, living rooms, or venues--they get the crowd going. Next up were Touche Amore. They ripped through their set with immense intensity. Having so many fans there only fueled the flames. The band debuted a new song to the So-Cal crowd while even throwing in stuff from their La Dispute split. It was a warm welcome and it was clear they had a foot in attracting a younger audience that likely have never heard a Hot Water Music album before. This reviewer can only hope those Touche Amore fans stuck around to appreciate the power of Hot Water Music.

Hot Water Music  stepped out and opened up with their ten year old, "Remedy." The passion was still there. If there's one thing Hot Water Music have going for their live show, it's that they have a grizzly bear rocking his heart out on stage. Chuck Ragan still stomps around the stage like an excited kid who just unwrapped a Tickle-Me-Elmo on Christmas morning. Ragan retained control as they went into their new album opener, "Mainline." As much as I like the studio recording, seeing it live was a whole new ball game--adding a whole new level of force to the track.

The band jumped back and forth between older tracks from A Flight and a Crash and newer songs like "State of Grace" and the rhythmic title-track, "Exister." It's always a joy when Jason Black gets his moments to take the reins. "Exister" was another new song that translated really well live. The older crowd that had taken over the dance floor were ecstatic when they jumped back to No Division's classic, "Rooftops."

One of my only gripes about their performance was they only played one track from The New What Next--"Giver." As they reached the end of their set they broke out fan favorites, "Wayfarer" and "Turnstile." It was clear the crowd had been hoping and waiting for the moment to yell out, "I must always remember: there's no point to surrender," and they did not take it for granted.

Fans wait for Hot Water Music to come back out and satisfy their thirst for more. Their arrive back on stage and begin playing the anthemic, "It's Hard to Know," to remind everyone to "live your heart and never follow," before ending the night with Forever and Counting's. "Manual."

Hot Water Music can still give a better performance than many of the younger punk bands going today. If you haven't had a chance to see their show, I urge you to. The dueling dynamic of Ragan and Wollard is enough to shake the walls, while Jason Black and Rebelo's rhythmic chemistry is something you won't find anywhere else.