I’m completely loving and am addicted to the BlackBerry Pearl I bought last week. It’s my first time owning a BlackBerry and it’s a welcome upgrade as the phone I had previously was circa 2002 (the whole shopping for new phones really pisses me off, and the old phone did still work, technically). After a few learning humps and some tweaking to get things functioning properly, everything works perfectly. I receive email (I have my gmail account hooked up to it) just about instantly. I can log into Gtalk and all the other major IM services; I’ve got Google Maps, which is amazing on mobile, since it basically functions as free GPS; internet—you name it.

I now have an understanding and appreciation for why these things are nicknamed “CrackBerries”.

Last night, I downloaded “Punch-Out!! Featuring Mr. Dream!!” via the Virtual Console on my cherished and most beloved Wii. When I was a kid, it was called “Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out!!”, but I guess with the end of Tyson’s contract with Nintendo and having lost the championship to Buster Douglas, they made some cosmetic changes to the boss at the end (basically making him a white guy) and changed his name to Mr. Dream.

I’d completely forgotten how totally awesome this game was. I’d also repressed how balls-out politically incorrect it managed to be. I guess it was truly a different era, because a game this chock full of blatant racial and ethnic stereotypes would never fly in this day and age. That said, it rules.

The list of fighters runs a gamut of stereotypes. The obese Pacific Islander; the Japanese guy with the rickshaw soundtrack and extremely exaggerated slanted eyes. The drunk Russian (Soda Popinski’s original name was Vodka Drunkenski till Nintendo changed it, since it was a kids game) and more.

In spite and perhaps because of the insensitivity, the game rocks. I’d forgotten how many hours I killed, punching and dodging my way up the ladder, only to get laid out by Tyson in the first round. I don’t recall exactly, but I think I did manage to win the game at some point. So far, I can get to the second fight with Bald Bull. My old school game skills have suffered severely over the years. Still, I have time and a certain amount of thumb-tapping moxie left in me.

Here’s a link to plenty of photos I took of Death Metal bands, Vader and Malevolent Creation at the Death By Decibels tour at The Blender Theater, here in New York. Malevolent Creation were good, but not anything I’d bother seeing again. They put on a good show, but they didn’t really raise my blood pressure. Vader is a damn tight-sounding band live. I was really impressed at how solid and together their sound and all-around performance was. I’d definitely check them out again, but daaaaaamn…do they ever need fashion tips. They were all wearing retarded, Hot Topic, gothic club-baby pants, complete with too many zippers and the dangly string thingies. Think these pants having babies with these ones. Frightening. Guys, you’re a European Death Metal band…black leather pants! In a pinch, camouflage or olive-drab cargos. WTF?

I still think the Blender Theater is a complete and total shithole, comparable to spelunking in an old lady’s colon. The only thing they have going for them is that so far, to my knowledge, no one’s sued the shit out of the place after getting hurt. Their security sucks. I saw two fights, granted they were minor, but security was nowhere. There were a few assholes, getting off on dive-bombing random people, knocking a girl next to me to the floor without so much as an apology or a lift upright. As far as I’m concerned, if the person you hit is not participating in being a psuedo-macho hormonal douchebag with you, than that’s assault and that’s a fucking liability for the club. Accidents happen, but that place lets some rude, bitter, professional dishwashers and reprobates get away with way too much shit. Blender fucking blows.

Here is a set of photos I shot of The Sword and Black Cobra, live at the Bowery Ballroom last night. The Sword was awesome from start to finish. I had a great time, although I got far more drunk that I should have or had intended to. At one point, while in the crowd, two guys came crashing to the ground in front of me and I reflexively started to control the guy on top, like I used to do in Aikido, with one hand on his neck and the other displacing his hips, thinking there was about to be a big fight. Two seconds later, it dawns on me that these guys were moshing, lost their balance, fell and if I don’t let go now, I’m probably going to get my drunk and delusional ass deservedly gang-beat. Luckily, the guy I was manhandling seemed a bit drunk as well and more focused on whether he hurt the guy he fell on top of, likely thinking I had been trying to help him up, if he even noticed me at all. Oops.

Here’s about fifty photos I took of Swedish Melodic Viking Death Metal band, Amon Amarth as they played Irving Plaza last night. I can only recall one or two other concerts in my life where the crowd was as frenzied and pumped as last evening. The band seemed pretty amused and appreciative of the sheer amount of enthusiasm jammed into the club and they certainly know how to work a crowd. They are fucking hilarious, kick-ass metal dudes and their sound is just killer. They even drank booze from animal horns. I’m psyched to see them again someday.

I caught Beowulf last night, paying the extra few dollars on top of what is already a ridiculous price in New York ($14.50, normally $10.50-$11) to see the first 3-D movie since I was a very small child. It was some pretty cool shit, but I could see it being a hell of a lot better if it wasn’t limited by screen size (I’m thinking IMAX) and it didn’t really do anything to help the movie itself as far as story effects and action.

But, 3-D aside, Beowulf was a pretty fucking good movie.I’ve always been a fan of Neil Gaiman since back in The Sandman days, so I figured that the flick would have a good deal more depth than your average hack-n’-slash flick and I wasn’t disappointed. The movie is not a literal following of Beowulf. Rather it takes the tale and fills in the gaps and connects things, weaving a complex, human and empathic narrative of a bold, cocky and undefeated—yet weak and faulted man who as human as he may be, becomes the subject of legend. On top of that, it throws some serious fucking blood, violence and naked Jolie.

I’m always lamenting the lack of epic fantasy/sci-fi/horror movies where aside from massive effects and action, there exists a solid core of a story. Beowulf definitely met expectations in that regard. You don’t have to pay extra for the 3-D, as I believe that most theaters are showing it in normal film-mode (whatever you would call that). It’s definitely a gimmick, although one I consider kind of cool and fun, but regardless of how you catch it, it’s a good flick

Lately, I’ve been going apeshit-overkill with concerts. I blame the internet—it makes buying tickets a little too easy and before you know it, you’ve booked yourself for three shows in one week, which is where I’m at. As I wrote in my previous post, earlier this week, I had a horrible night seeing Kataklysm live at the Blender Theater at Gramercy, a club that I will likely never return to unless it’s something I have to go to. That place fucking blows.

However, the next evening I was at the Knitting Factory, seeing post-Sleep, Stoner Doom miracles, OM with Grails opening and it entirely redeemed the condition of my week. Grails was totally psychedelic good shit. I liked them enough that I bought two of their albums off of eMusic the next morning. OM was magnificent. It was the first time I’ve ever seen them and I had no idea that a man could wring such a thunderingly full sound out of a bass guitar. I was highly impressed and inspired. I tried to buy one of everything at their merchandise table, to the point that I had two guys scrambling through boxes looking for shirts my size. I loved it. I had passed up an earlier concert of theirs in Brooklyn, a couple days ago, figuring I’d rather just see them in Manhattan where it’s easier for me to navigate home, but in hindsight, I should have gone to both shows. It was that good.

I also really liked the Knitting Factory. the sound was great, the alcohol was comparatively reasonable in price and the place is fucking HUGE. I’d never been there before and it was a good experience for a first time. Here’s a bunch of photos of the evening, if you’d like to check them out.

Tonight, it’s Behemoth at Irving Plaza. I’m tempted to bail on it, as I’m not an especially big fan, but I did already buy tickets. I’m old though. I think two concerts, at least two days apart is looking like my limit is these geriatric times that I find myself in.

Last night I went to the Blender Theater at Gramercy for a concert that ended up being a fucking joke. I got there as Divine Heresy was playing and I liked their sound and energy. But, when Terror came on…fuck that shit. Lame, immature, self-absorbed bullshit. They had some good moments, but the whole mentality of their music and personality is like being at an all-ages hardcore show when I was fifteen. I’ve moved on from that lame “Oh I’m so downtrodden, such an underdog. Everything’s a struggle” shit, why can’t they? They’re just as old as I am.

Mainly, I came for Kataklysm. I’d really liked their album, “In the Arms of Devastation“. I figured it would be some super crazy shit, but I have to say I was disappointed. In one sense, they played pretty much all the songs I wanted to hear and played them well, but the sound was flat. It kind of seemed liked they were air-guitaring over their music being piped through speakers - which they totally weren’t, but that’s what I mean by flat sounding. The other thing was their presence, or lack of. They’re kind of boring. Their albums have some really killer riffs and I’d hoped they’d really put some fucking intensity into them, since they were playing live, but they didn’t. They just kinda did their thing. They’re a great band, but I think I’ll pass on seeing them live again.

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I caught Norwegian Black/Viking/Progressive Metal band, Enslaved at BB Kings last night. The night was a total fucking wash until the they came on. One of the opening acts, The Agonist, has to one of the most depressingly shitty, pretentious, weak-ass bands I’ve ever seen live. Fucking shit generic sound, prancing around the stage and swinging their guitars around like total douchebags. It was embarrassing to just be there in their presence while they played. At least the band name was appropriate, since it was agonizing to suffer through their set. They need to retire, shoot themselves or whatever—just go away.

Another opening act, Arsis had a pretty good sound, but their bass player kept weirding me out. First off, the guy looked to be wearing woman’s jeans, which was fairly creepy. Second, every time before the band kicked into a song, he spent way to much time arranging his hair to hang in the appropriate Metal style. Third, he wasn’t a particularly great bassist and he’s got this huge six string, showing it off, posing and tapping the strings over the top of the neck with his right hand, something that from what I saw from his finger positioning etc., would pretty much sound like drivel, but sure did look spiffy. Still, they were a fuckload better than The Agonist.

Enslaved was awesome. Once they came on the night went from being a rip-off, to a good time. I have all of Enslaved’s albums and while I really liked them, never counted them in my top list of bands. After seeing them live, my impression of them is greatly raised. They sound fucking great. I took a good amount of photos and posted them to my Flickr stream for all to see.

One of the ways that I know my brain is in engaged in a slow, synaptic erosion towards a state of oatmeal-like gruel is by my ever worsening skills at video games that ruled my world as a child. I used to pwn Super Mario Bros., back in the NES days. I could win that game on one life (yeah, so I used warp zones…I was still pretty damn good!). Now, sitting in a rank puddle of urine and feces, sweating, swearing and screaming at my television, I’m lucky to get to level 5.

Yesterday, I was reading about how the little-known and rarely seen original Japanese sequel to Super Mario 1, “SÅ«pā Mario Burazāzu 2″ a.k.a. “Super Mario Bros.: The Lost Levels” had been made available for the Wii’s virtual console. The article I was reading had a lot to say about how much more difficult and maddening this release is and how the creator might very possibly have been in a deep depression that led to his making a release that is a total fuck-off-and-die-trying type of game for all those budding Mario fans out there in the mid 80’s. I decided that I must have it.

As soon as I got home, I ponied up the 600 Wii points ($6) and downloaded it. I can safely say that “Lost Levels” is one fucking ass-rape of a hard game. I couldn’t even complete the first world, though I will keep spanking away at it.

On a similar Nintendo note, while I was browsing the Wii Shop Channel. I nabbed Super Mario Bros. 3, a game I’d completely forgotten about. I spent many, many a completely drugged-to-the-gills evening playing that game in high school. I loved it and now I own it again and can resume blowing away whole nights zoning to it—minus the hallucinations and eventual vomiting. The Wii is the greatest thing ever.