2007: The cake is a lie

A year in gaming. In vague order of awesomeness. [Although in full disclosure, I should probably state that I played Picross DS more than any other game this year. But you don't really want to hear me talk about glorified Sudoku. Do you?]


Bioshock

BioShock is easily the most overrated game of the year. Despite a phenomenal introductory sequence and one of the most distinct and original settings to ever grace a first person shooter, the game still traffics in the genre's most egregious crimes: tedious item gathering, useless skill upgrades, repetitive enemy design, and horrendous ai. Quite curiously, the game's most praised aspect is its most banal. There has been much talk of the moral-based gameplay, but considering the game's philosophical backdrop in Ayn Randian objectivism, the game is practically a rail shooter. For all of the in-game discussion about freedom, the moral choices are insultingly binary and have a negligible impact on the development of the game. Don't even get me started on the supposed "plot twist" which is as meaningless as trying to psychoanalyze the nameless soldier in Doom. Disappointing.


Metroid Prime 3: Corruption

The first act tries to mimic Halo, and the game suffers for it. Metroid has never been about plot or character development, but atmosphere and isolation. I was ready to abandon the game until I entered Elysia and suddenly everything clicked. The level design for SkyTown is inspired and reawakens the joy of experiencing Samus as a morph ball in three dimensions. While I appreciated the incorporation of Samus's ship into some of the puzzles, I feel the series has followed the law of diminishing returns partly because there are only so many variations one can do of traditional Metroid weaponry. I think it is time for a radical rethinking of the franchise.


Rock Band
Have you seen that video of me on Facebook yet? Enough said.

Well... enough said until Harmonix takes advantage of full album downloadable content.


Mario Galaxy

Simply a joy. There is something emotionally satisfying in another caliber Mario game, which is why you will probably spot Galaxy atop most critics' end of the year lists along with some narrative about the back-to-basics "fun" factor. All of which overshadows how frustrating Galaxy can be. While the game's generosity in extra lives conceals the occasional camera problem, later challenges can be maddening due to vertiginous level design and imprecise controls. That being said, it is hard to stay mad at a game of such levity and playfulness.


Portal

The game of the year. Economical, ingenious, stunning. And it only takes 4 hours to play through. Beyond the sheer excitement of the portal device (which I would describe, but words seem inadequate; just trust me when I guarantee it will make Half-Life 3 the greatest game of all time), Portal features the best writing on any console. Consider this: the game makes the choice of "euthanizing" a weighted box a heartbreaking dilemma (the creators of Bioshock could learn a thing or two). Even the speed runs are mindblowing. Portal is in every way unprecedented and unparalleled, and delivers a radical sense of possibility in next generation gaming.

The Wes Anderson School of Design

For about the first ten minutes, I thought I was in for a weak Wes Anderson "homage" (or "knock-off" to those of you who are less generous). Then the movie started to make sense.


Unlike Anderson's last few movies, Juno is less about being quirky than the actual situation and characters. There is the quirkiness, the odd dialogue, the random pop culture similes, that the movie has become known for. But, after that first ten minutes, it doesn't feel like the film expects you to accept those elements as the characters. The characters, instead, are given things to do. People to meet. Situations to interact with.

In the end, Juno becomes a great film because it focuses on the quirkiness of having something you don't want and wanting something you can't have. That may sound trite, but let's face it. If you read a synopses of the movie, it sounds like a Lifetime movie. So just take my word that there is a depth in the mundane. And it's quite touching.

2007: The sky is falling

On DVD prices, that is.

HBO is the main offender. Five years ago, Six Feet Under Season One retailed at $99. Now you can pick up each season for $19 a pop.

I haven't decided if I should blame (or thank) the WGA strike, the DVD format wars, or the obsolescence of the physical medium. Perhaps all of the above.

For the past half decade, the DVD has been Hollywood's glorious cash cow. Confused about the Writers' Strike? Consider this: for every ticket you buy at the box office, a movie studio gets about $3.50; for every DVD, it gets $17.26. Now apply this to television. No wonder the DVD resurrected Family Guy or that the new Futurama episodes will debut on DVD before being aired.

The changing media landscape has cannibalized network syndication revenues (one of the principal sources of residual checks for writers) and is bound to do the same to DVD sales. Oh wait. It already has. DVD sales only expanded 2% this year and are estimated to decrease by 20% in 2010.

And, of course, there is the Internet. The great unknown. The horrifying apparition that keeps media conglomerates up at night. An entity that seems to evade all profit forecasting and thus defers all negotiation and action. [An argument which was, quite fittingly, dismantled by the Daily Show's writers in a video broadcasted by traditional media outlets on YouTube. The irony.]

My personal position doesn't need to be stated. We all know my sympathies are with Michael Eisner.

Honestly.

The fallout of the strike: next year's network lineups look abysmal [with the exception of Lost, of course -- <3 Kate]. Which means it is time to catch up on television shows you may have missed. For me, that will probably entail The Wire, Deadwood, and Rome. And maybe I will humor Nell and Mark by watching Buffy.

Instead of pimping out the usual end of year favorites (after all, you should already be watching 30 Rock and The Office) or dissecting Heroes's terrible twos (someone really thought of Hiro as anything other than asexual?), I thought I would offer a few alternative recommendations for shows you may want to add to your Netflix Queue.

I have already encouraged you all to watch Pushing Daisies, so add that to your New Year's resolution list. And I agree with Mark about Flight of the Conchords, although I would probably give the series an 8.

But really there were two standout seasons in the fall of 2007: Mad Men and Dexter.

Compared to the decades that bookend it, the 1950s form a curious visual lacuna in my memory. My impression, which I imagine is similar to others of my generation, is mostly confined to noirs and Leave it to Beaver. While set in the year 1960, Mad Men bears witness to the collapse of the postwar 1950s episteme: race, sexuality, and class all lurk at the peripheries waiting to challenge and upset the staid social mores. The series does a particularly strong job of balancing affection and critique (parents smile as they watch their children running around with bags on their heads), and there is a curious thrill of seeing an era from which we are only two generations removed. But most of all, the sharp writing carries the show. Speaking of the ad agency in which he works, Don Draper, the main protagonist of the show, comments, "This place has more failed artists and intellectuals than the Third Reich." A haunting juxtaposition with the VW "Lemon" ads the characters analyze earlier in the episode.

Speaking of haunting, Dexter accomplishes what all returning shows should attempt in their second season: it successfully destabilizes the general structure of the series, it unsettles everything we know about its characters, and best of all, it compounds Dexter's problems creating possibly the most suspenseful season-wide arc I have ever seen.

And guess what: CBS announced they will be showing Dexter on network television next year to fill in the gaps of their lineup.

Maybe I was wrong all along. Maybe 2008 will mark the return of syndication.

Or not.

Green Fairies, Bad Pirate Costumes, Flashing Pineapples

In the Paris episode of Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations, he stays in the hotel room where Oscar Wilde reportedly said: "My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death...one or the other of us has to go." Bourdain claims that this comment was the result of too much absinthe and then promptly goes out to a bar, finds an absinthe connoisseur still making the real wormwood stuff in Paris, and drinks too much of it. This prompts cheesy Travel Channel film antics, including swirling gold peacock wallpaper and several scenes with Anthony Bourdain in a dimly lit, underground hotel pool. Although I read somewhere that France lifted the ban on absinthe, it seems like the newly made mainstream stuff lacks the trouble-making hallucinogens for which the drink was known. I know I won't try any, but I'm staying in Montmarte, where all of those famous artists regularly drank it (at Le Lapin Agile, etc). This prompts you to think about such things, especially when considering visiting cemeteries.

Oscar Wilde is buried across town in the La Pere Lachaise Cemetery that includes the likes of Jim Morrison, Edith Piaf, Camille Pissaro, and Proust. Degas is buried in the Montmarte cemetery down the street from our apartment. I suspect Mason and I will visit those folks at some point.

Anyway, Les Halles (which is the name of Anthony Bourdain's restaurant in New York) is pretty rad, at least the above ground park where the giant market used to be. Beneath the beautiful park and the green framed arches and windows leftover from the famous city market is the most god awful, artificially lit mall I've ever experienced. Luckily, Charlie and I quickly escaped. Here are some pictures of the nice part.


More things of note:

1. Charlie and I bought olives with garlic and herbs at a market near Les Halles. They are very pretty.
2. The best part of La Gazelle (a Moroccan restaurant across the street), in addition to a mighty fine tajine, is the multi-colored, flashing pineapple under the stuffed gazelle in the window.
3. People who play guitar on the steps up to Sacre Coeur like Eric Clapton, U2, and the Beatles. I have heard "Let it Be" twice in three days.
4. Inside Sacre Coeur, the person playing the organ seems like s/he might be playing his/her own version of John Cage's drawn out symphony. Well, okay, maybe not the 639 year long version.
5. The stained glass inside Sacre Coeur is less traditional and more art nouveau than the glass I saw at Notre Dame and San Chappelle. I need to learn more about stained glass. Really, I need to learn more about religion in general.
(I later discover that the original windows were destroyed during a bombing in 1944 and replaced in 1946)
6. It is very cold here. My mom bought me mustard yellow gloves but my hands are still cold. I can see my breath every time I walk outside. All of the dogs out for walks look unhappy and cold. Even the ones with coats.
7. It was not any warmer inside San Chappelle, but the stained glass is pretty damn epic.
8. I am very happy Mason is here. He is nice.
9. Crepes with nutella are a great thing
10. Crepes with nutella and bananas are even better!
11. Yesterday there was a dude dressed like a pirate (Johnny Depp style) near the steps up to Sacre Coeur. He was not making any money. I am excited to hear Johnny Depp sing.
12. I like the way Renoir paints eyes. I also like Redon, and especially this:

13. The Salvador Dali museum near the top of Sacre Coeur is sort of sham, but it did have some pretty neat bronze statues of unicorns and snails with wings. I also found cool 3-D vision glasses of this painting for John's Christmas present. I like space elephants.
14. We ate at a Lebanese restaurant last night where they gave as an appertif that tasted sort of like dijon mustard (but in a good way) and beet-red turnip pickles as appetizers. Lebanese food in Paris is very tasty: The baba ganouj was smokier than I'm used to, and they served us this really heavily herbed, creamy feta with chopped onions and tomatoes. It was mighty fine. Full bellies all around.
15. There was a blue plastic fan (like the part inside a window box-fan) sitting on a window sill on the walk home.

The city is foggy because it hasn't rained in a week or so. It is getting more crowded the closer we get to Christmas. Charlie just walked in and said the fromagerie that sells the chevre covered in rose petals is a mad-house. Then he gave me a pretty half moon Christmas cookie. Today is John's birthday and we're going to the Picasso museum and to ride a ferris wheel.

I like ferris wheels.

Blogging hard, hardly blogging

How I mean to end that fantasy football post:

“p.s. Getcha Popcorn Ready.”

I need to start writing my ideas down more.

Here we go round the prickly pear

"We tried to help him up and he just said, 'It's over, it's over,' " Miami's Udonis Haslem said. (From ESPN.)

Much like Roland Barthes, Mourning's career has (likely) ended, not in a blaze of glory, but in a moment of near-irony. After all, this is the same player who came back after a kidney transplant and played a fairly significant role in the last Miami championship.

But it shouldn't be that unexpected, really.

For a while. I was "against" "endings" in my "stories." I always tried to finish them on a somewhat-ambiguous, open note. More like real life, I'd say. The only problem is, that's not like real life either.

The actuality of any event can be surprising. But, ultimately, what makes an ending either satisfying or dissatisfying is the story you put behind it.

Sweat and a misstep, perhaps, ends a career.

If you have to ask...

Since no one here has mentioned the WGA strike outright... I thought I should.

It sucks.

Delicious Irony Talkback Week #16

The irony. That Trevor, whose entire season has been built around the running up the score Brady-Welker-Maroney axis of evil, would lose in the first round of the playoffs to Ian and New England's defense.

And now Ian is a 3 point favorite in the virtual Super Bowl this weekend against Brad.

Great game. Awesome.

If you see me in the hall...

It isn't so much that the movie ruined the book as the book ruined the movie.

I read I Am Legend more than five years ago. Yet, I was left was such an overwhelmingly strong image from the last scene, that it was inevitable that I would dislike the mediocre, pandering final scene of the new Will Smith movie.

Not to say the movie was all bad. In fact, I thought the suspense and horror was remarkable. I'm a little ashamed to admit it, but I even had a hard time watching some of the mutant/vampire/zombie scenes.

Then there were the merciless dangling plot lines and unfilled back stories. The movie starts to develop that the monsters seem to have some sort of social structure. Then they get blown up. The humans miraculously find a cure in someone's blood. Then one of the immortals gets buried alive, the other dates a lame-o and the other forgets he's immortal. Oh wait. That's Heroes. (Same problems here.)

But overall, the most remarkable thing about I Am Legend is how uneven the experience was from start to finish. It's bricolage at its worst. A little bit of everything, and not enough of any one thing. Part Cast Away. Part 28 Days Later. Part action movie. Part virus movie. It all adds up to not quite a whole movie.

Yet, despite it's failings, I'd still recommend everything except for maybe the last five minutes of the movie. And you should read the book too. Just make sure you read the book AFTER you see the movie.

If you go down to Brugges today

These are some things you see in Brugges (in Belgium) that aren't so darn cutesy, but are fairly effective toy-town mascots.






In the Brugges town square, after you pause to buy a hot chocolate with amaretto and take a moment to listen to a little girl playing "Frere Jacques" on the xylophone, you can watch people ice skating to this....

This cat was in a museum that explained how to make wooden shoes, hats, and pipes. It was all in Dutch, so I'm still not very sure how to make a felted hat.


As we were leaving, we visited the ice sculpture festival at the train station. Inside the refrigerated tent, we met an icy hedgehog, ladybug, mascot number 2, a bride and groom taking wedding pictures, and several penguins. After going down an ice sculpture slide, there was an ice sculpture bar where I had a shot of vodka with my mom. It was very cold.

Later, after spending too much time in the Brussels train station, my mom and I took a train back to Paris. Some friends visiting my mom convinced me to go to a lesbian cabaret. I had a 10 euro rum and juice drink out of an illuminated punchbowl, prepared compliments of the bar's owner, Josie.

Lesbian cabaret is a bust. More on that later.

I'm sure this will slow down when I stop waking up so early... Day 3

Day 3

1. I keep waking up too early, even though this apartment is dark until close to 10:00 a.m.
2. We take Bus 80 to the American Library of Paris. A lady sits next to us holding a shivering yorkshire terrier. I see Champs Elysees and L'Arc de Triomphe for the first time. I can't get that damn NOFX song out of my head.
3. We check out Saving Private Ryan and The Year of Living Dangerously from the library to watch during our down time.
4. We eat omelettes and a tarte tartin with creme fraiche on top at a cafe near the library. The room has a fireplace. I smell like wood smoke the rest of the day.
5. We walk under the Eiffel Tower, past two carousels, and up the Seine to the gaudy bridge Napoleon commissioned called Pont D'Alexander. The gold horses and women seem rather self indulgent. One of the chubby angels has a stretchy white (non-statue) headband and is holding a fish.
6. A little boy in a winter hat with those fuzzy ear flaps rides a little blue bike with training wheels just past the Grand Palais, through a large puddle, and then peddles in a circle around a giant statue of Charles De Gaulle. Charles De Gaulle seems preoccupied.
7. There is a tiny produce stand underground, between two metro lines. This momentarily confuses me and a number of French people have to say, "Excusez-moi" when they bump into me.
8. A guy near the front of Monoprix, near the Moulin Rouge, stands with his mouth open as he checks out two fashiony French women in black leather boots.
9. We walk up Rue le Pic, past markets carrying tons of fruit, vegetables, meat, and fancy cheeses. I convince Charlie to buy lychees because he has never tried them before. He is happy about the sweet white fruit when I peel the bumpy shell away and give him one when we get home.
10. We go to dinner at Au Clare de la Lune. See below.
11. I realize that it is easy to drink 5-6 glasses of wine in one day, without getting drunk.
12. During dinner, Charlie says "I wish I could time travel." Later, we wait for the Eiffel Tower to sparkle as it is supposed to on the half hour. When it fails to sparkle, my mom reminds us that we shouldn't be disappointed about a tower that does not sparkle, as we are already looking at a pretty amazing nightime view of Paris. Charlie says "Stupid Eiffel Tower."
13. On the walk down the hill, we pass a couple. The girl mumbles something into her scarf and has her arms crossed. She is facing away from the boy. The boy looks confused and asks "what?" They continue standing there in silence for quite awhile. Relationships seem to be the same all around the world.



Restaurant Interlude (a.k.a. Nell's poor attempt at describing a restaurant)
Au Clare de la Lune

Just down from the Place du Tertre, tucked underneath a giant Sacre Coeur, is Au Clare de la Lune. The dining room is warm and cozy. The walls are covered with murals of old Montmarte painted by Poulbot and the chandeliers above us are green with multicolored flowers sprouting light-bulbs. A sweet man seats us next to the window, and during dinner I watch as the artists working in the Place du Tertre head home at the end of their day, carrying their umbrellas and art supplies down from the square.

For the first course, my mom and Charlie order a bottle of 2003 Bourg Beaujolais (Chateau de Barbe). I have a cured salmon salad on frisee lettuce with a lemon olive oil dressing. It is very simple and a nice contrast to some of the heavy and rich food I've been eating the last couple days. Charlie gets a rich fish soup, which comes with very intense garlic butter, little toasts, and shredded gruyere. My mom gets the hit of the first course: a scallop terrine covered in fresh hollandaise (I heard them whipping the hollandaise through the door to the kitchen). The scallop dish is the definition of creamy goodness.

For the main course, Charlie and I order "Confit de Canard" and my mom gets little slices of duck steaks in a raspberry sauce. The flavors are strong and very rich and although I'm unsure how my belly will handle it, all seems to go well. The duck dishes are served with Clare de la Lune's version of Potatoes Anna. I've tried to make Potatoes Anna at home, but failed to properly flip the potatoes out of the cast iron pan. These potatoes are the perfect combination of crispy and flavorful.

For dessert, Charlie gets iced nougat with raspberry coulis, my mom gets a crazy intense charlotte au chocolat, and I get creme brulee (because I am somewhat predictable). I like mine the best, but I think it was mostly a personal preference thing. I can imagine if you love rich, dark chocolate, that the charlotte would be amazing. I left the restaurant feeling warm and very full, and happy to be walking down brick cobbled streets in Montmarte. Thank you duck, thank you sweet little French man, and thank you mom and Charlie.

Paris so far..

First Day (Premier Jour)

1. Guy in sunglasses at the airport with old-school Christina Aguilera look-alike trailing behind speaks a lot of French to me very quickly. I fail to respond appropriately and he walks by, mumbling.
2. Different guy plays accordion on the train to Mom and Charlie's apartment in Montmarte.
3. I am very tired.
4. We walk to a boulanger and I eat a goat cheese and cucumber sandwich and drink red wine. I feel better. My mom wants to show me puppies at the pet store, but they are closed on Sundays. There are many French dads and moms pushing rain-proof strollers up and down the steep hills of Montmarte.
5. I fall asleep.
6. We walk up to Sacre Coeur and look at the city. The city looks old, white and yellowy-brown. It is rainy and cold (not like in the picture, which I stole from my mom) and Mom and Charlie drink mulled wine.
7. There are Chrismas lights strung across streets from building to building. The light bulbs are bigger and strung in a less organized pattern than the lights outside people's houses at home. They make the streets sparkle.
8. We eat salads with thinly slice garlic potatoes on top. My salad is like a salad nicoise, but is called a salade gourmand. We drink more wine.
9. We come home and I try to stay awake by watching Star Trek: Voyager with Mom and Charlie. Seven of Nine has very large breasts.
10. I fall asleep.


Second Day (Deuxieme Jour)

1. I wake up early and drink coffee and eat chocolate brioche.
2. Eventually we take Bus 95 from our apartment, past the Louvre, over the Seine, and near the Jardin de Luxemborg. We eat a tasty lunch at Bread and Roses (lemony artichoke antipasti) and walk through the garden. It is raining, so there are empty gray-green chairs scattered all over. There is a seagull standing on the head of a statue near the fountain.
3. It is a little windy. A blonde girl struggles with an inside-out red umbrella.
4. We go to the Pantheon. There are Christmas trees outside that are being decorated with large yellow and maroon glass balls. In the crypt Emile Zola is buried in the same room as Alexander Dumas and Victor Hugo. Only Alexander and Emile have flowers. I also get to spend some time with Voltaire and Rousseau. Neither of them have flowers. I watch Foucault's pendulum.
4. We walk out in the rain, past the Sorbonne with trendy little French young people in tight pants, long fitted coats, and pointy shoes. People carrying umbrellas bob up and down as they walk on the sidewalk. We walk to the Musee de Cluny (Medieval Art). There are gargoyles on the top of the building with mouths dribbling rain water off of the roof.
5. I see the six unicorn tapestries, something I've been excited about for a long while. They are in a specially lit room (to both preserve them and brighten their colors). It is cozy. They are very beautiful and I am happy.
6. We take the Metro from Rue De Cluny to Sevres.
7. A guy plays the viola. The train is crowded.
8. We take another Metro to Absesses in Montemarte, which I think is the Metro sign that they show in Amelie. I am a nerd.
9. We walk down the street under sparkling Christmas lights and buy baguettes and I get a shiny coffee eclair. We buy baba ganouj (caviar d'aubergine) and other snacks to take home.
10. Charlie is listening to the Velvet Underground in the kitchen.


More later.

Ghost in the Machine

Contrary to what Google Maps thinks, I can tell you quite confidently that this FedEx Kinkos does not exist:



Chinks in the armor...

Irony Scepter

1.

When I bought my Wii, I sold my GameCube and scored the tidy sum of $30 cash money. I paid $200 for it new. More if you count the forced bundle.

I'm currently selling my GameCube component cables on eBay. One day left, and they're already up to $40. I paid $30 for them new.

2.

Despite having four writers with graduate degrees or work toward a graduate degree (and a very intelligent Ben), our blog's reading level is rated:

7 Habits of a highly effective blogger...

1) Draft Dwight Howard. Even if he's a terrible free throw shooter and the worst big man on turnovers, he rocks. And you'll totally start to understand how someone could have been dumb enough to draft him over LeBron. Even if you still think they're dumb.

2) Listen to podcasts more often than music, so you don't really have much music to write about. But then never think about blogging about podcasts. That would take too much work. And you probably listen to some geeky-ass shows anyway.

3) Don't listen to the people at your work who tell you they'd love to read your always sarcastic reviews of local restaurants. But do wonder why they all think it's hilarious that you compared eating pizza from The Pi (say) to eating a block of lard.

4) Think you're funnier than you are, and more interesting than you are. After all, more than 200 people from across the nation have stumbled across this blog. Make sure you don't think about how that's probably less than the number of people who have wrong-number called your mobile phone in seven years.

5) Also, don't think about how you've been out of High School for almost eight years. How you now know people that were too young to remember the same kids shows as you. How you think video games, not music, achieved perfection in 1994.

6) Don't ever question Oprah. Because she has the strength to smite you.

7) When you make a phone date with Logan, and he cancels. Reschedule. It is the only way to find out how long his beard is.

LOGANMIX2005: Apply Some Pressure!

It's that magical time of year again when I, in homage to Roger de Piles, arbitrarily rank art based on its proximity to sovereign perfection.

To give you ample time to fill your ears with beeswax and bind yourself to the mast, I thought I would take a brief stroll down memory lane to visit the blog in its nascent days and unearth one of my time-capsules of hyper-nostalgia.

Although I shared my favorite albums of 2005 with you all, I never got around to posting my digestible hour-long song review for the year. At the time, I was part of a mixtape club which sublimated my need to impose my impeccable musical taste on the rest of the world. I figure now would be an appropriate time to address that lacuna.

Looking back on the tracklist, a few things jump out at me:

1) Never, ever sell your song to a terrible beer company. Galvanize was one of the best tracks of 2005, and now I can't listen to it without thinking of Tom Brady tag-teaming my mom with Hitler.

2) Doves need to release a new album, now.

3) There was a time when ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead seemed vital. 2005 wasn't that time, but damn if Will You Smile Again? doesn't still rock.

4) Nu-Britpop (aka. Kaiser Chiefs, Maximo Park, and Bloc Party) really dropped the ball in their sophomore efforts.

5) There are quite a few conspicuous missing tracks, but it pains me think I wasn't ever aware of Board of Canada's Dayvan Cowboy when I made the list.

6) Shoegazer bands are incredible live.

... and on that same note...

7) I really need to do Coachella next year (Mason = My Bloody Valentine reunion?)

On that note, I like to wait to see how things turn out, if you apply some pressure:

1. Drain Cosmetics - Serena Maneesh [Serena Maneesh]
2. Will You Smile Again? - ... And You Will Know Us From The Trail Of Dead [Worlds Apart]
3. Black And White Town - Doves [Some Cities]
4. Apply Some Pressure - Maximo Park [A Certain Trigger]
5. I Predict A Riot - Kaiser Chiefs [Employment]
6. Love Is A Deserter - The Kills [No Wow]
7. Banquet (Phones Disco Edit) - Bloc Party [Silent Alarm Remixed]
8. Destroy Everything You Touch - Ladytron [Witching Hour]
9. The Hand That Feeds - Nine Inch Nails [With Teeth]
10. Happy - Fischerspooner [Odyssey]
11. Morning Night And Day - New Order [Waiting For The Sirens' Call]
12. Galvanize - The Chemical Brothers (feat. Q-Tip) [Push The Button]
13. Bottle Rocket (Single Version) - The Go! Team [Are You Ready For More? EP]
14. Bingo - M.I.A. [Arular]
15. Slide In - Goldfrapp [Supernature]
16. Hung Up [Radio Version] - Madonna [Hung Up Single]
17. Dare - Gorillaz [Demon Days]
18. Don't Save Us From The Flames - M83 [Before The Dawn Heals Us]