Meeting (other) people is easy

Nostalgia is overrated, expensive, and hard on the senses.

Take it from me, the manic Die Hard fan who actually coaxed his girlfriend into seeing the awful fifth entry only to walk out, shoulders shrugged, squealing, “Well, you have to see the first one.”

I felt even worse that she opted to pay.

$10 a piece plus snacks (who sees an action movie without snacks) to see an almost 60-year-old John McClane not bleed one drop after being shot at and crashing two SUVs.

Doesn’t McClane know about the economy or realism? But what did I expect going into the fifth Die Hard?

A Good Day to Die Hard is one entry in a never-ending list of pop culture fitted purely for nostalgia.
Over the past couple of years, I keep seeing these older actors and musicians who have made or been a part of masterpieces pop up only to remind us, “We were once great.”

The older entertainers aren’t to blame, though. I am. You are. 
Until now, almost every time entertainment nostalgia creeps in, I’ve gone through that pattern of shoveling over dough, then shoving said entertainment through my central nervous system, then feeling guilty because honestly, I don’t enjoy it all.

I simply wanted that band that made that one album I previously liked. I wanted a time capsule of that in my ears on repeat.

In the movie aspect of this argument, I wanted to watch that actor in that five-year period where every movie he touched was golden because of his presence. While you’re at it, entertainment gods, give those films an AMC marathon every other month.

Some of the biggest music releases of the year have used nostalgia tactics — Atoms for Peace’s AMOK and David Bowie’s The Next Day being the two huge examples of recent past.

You can include that new My Bloody Valentine record in the mix as well. Was it worth 25 years and $17 for an mp3 to listen to a guy rehash Loveless because Pitchfork really loves Loveless?.

But back to AMOK, where Thom Yorke of Radiohead is being Thom Yorke: challenging, quirky, flirting with electronics, and doing that epileptic dance thing that’s funny but also scary.

Don’t get me wrong. I love Radiohead. I was that kid who wore out his copy of OK Computer listening to “Paranoid Android” on repeat.

However, I’ve made an exit from the group of Radiohead fans who will shove anything by its members down their ears because it’s Radiohead.

You can blame The King of Limbs for this exit — that disc was meandering. On tour, it was worse. $50 for general admission to see syncopated drum loops, hi-res screens, and Yorke groaning.

Then, they played “Airbag,” or a song with guitars, reminding me what I loved: that rock band. The hour drive to the hotel wasn’t so bad, but all that combined for $200? My inner Joe Pesci asked, “Am I clown, Radiohead? Do I amuse you?”

AMOK isn’t bad; it’s boring. I’ve tried listening, but leave wanting another, better Radiohead album or Aphex Twin (an electronica artist Yorke and his cohorts not-so-subtly ape).

I went into AMOK with big expectations because—hello—Yorke was a mind behind OK Computer. I’m not so much disappointed at the result, but more over it. Unlike Radiohead and Yorke’s past albums, I don’t feel the need to digest this. I’m totally all right with this notion because we have those past great albums.
Those great albums are on sale along with AMOK for the low price of $15.99 at your Best Buy.
Great deal.

David Bowie’s new album, The Next Day, is being lauded as his best album since INSERT FORMER GREATEST ALBUM SINCE Ziggy Stardust. Bowie is 66 years old, and it’s great that he’s alive and kicking (though he won’t embark on a tour). Let’s be realistic though, Hunky Dory is his best album, and even that one has some filler.

Bowie is a rock god, plain and simple. But Bowie’s new album sounds like an older version of Bowie writing the same songs he wrote when he was in his ’20s and ’30s. It worked then, why shouldn’t it work now? And look at the response. His timing is impeccable, as he’s caught the olds and the teens by surprise.

Realistically, when we listen to the new Bowie, we might actually be pining for his older, better material. I’m sure you’ve read the reviews, where the critic reaches and says The Next Day sounds like Berlin-era Bowie — Heroes or Low. Or the one critic says, “There’s that jam [he doesn’t even think to put the name of the track there] that sounds like ‘Jean Genie,’ bro.”

I’m not bitter. I’m the grim reaper. Listening to Bowie and Yorke’s latest creation is like putting a dollar in the tip jar of a Wall Street banker. They’re old guys who are going to do whatever they want; you keep shelling out the bucks for the merch because you remember that one day when they were charming.

There’s no energy in nostalgia, either. Give me any young band on the street, preferably rock ‘n’ roll. Show me the humanity in AMOK that is not Flea’s bass lines (oh yeah, Flea from Red Hot Chili Peppers is a member of this band), and I’ll take another listen.

I realize aging is hard. However, the best entertainers never break the fourth wall and say, “we’re a business.”
Willis, at 58 years old, is practically asleep in most of his films nowadays.

The King of Limbs and AMOK sounds like a band doing whatever it wants because it made millions off a previous album and knows its fans will buy anything labeled Radiohead.

Did I mention Bowie isn’t going on tour while collecting your $30 per collector’s edition of vinyl?

My Bloody Valentine is also charging you $40 after shipping for a nine-song album that sounds exactly like their last album that came out 25 years ago.

Nostalgia is that bug that wants you to feel sorry for these titans and say, “Give them a chance.” I’m telling you they’ll be just fine if you stop paying attention. There’s another group of teenagers right around the corner who need to learn the value and wisdom gained from a viewing of Die Hard and a thousand spins of OK Computer and Hunky Dory.