Having released more than 20 studio albums since its formation as an anarcho−punk band in 1979, Amsterdam−based The Ex has proven time and time again that one of its greatest strengths is its ability to adapt to the current world−music scene without losing any of its individuality.
Its 2011 release, "Catch My Shoe," is no exception.
To even begin to appreciate this album, a good sound system is essential. Really. From the moment the first track (and single) of the album, "Maybe I Was the Pilot," shifts from poppy, single−note plucking to power chords and then to a chugging, bass−heavy onslaught of instrumental layers, it becomes readily apparent that The Ex has an incredible complexity of sound that it wants to bring to this album, and it isn't going to hold back any of it.
On its latest album, The Ex is still very much the same band that old fans want to hear, having lost none of its signature lo−fidelity guitar or frequently surreal, politically charged lyrics. Even replacing one of its founding members, G.W. Sok, with vocalist Arnold de Boer on this album hasn't proven to be a problem. De Boer's voice is less guttural than Sok's, but given The Ex's decreasing focus on traditional punk music, this change could actually be for the better.
"Catch My Shoe" showcases The Ex's most recent musical adaptation: an increasing fascination with African rhythms and styles. The band has previously experimented with influences from countries as far−flung as Turkey, Hungary and Eritrea, and it manages to incorporate its most recent influence just as smoothly.
While many bands, such as Vampire Weekend, garner criticism for their quaint dabbling in other cultures' musical traditions, The Ex embraces the versatility of African music with a genuine curiosity. The band collaborated with both Ethiopian sax legend Getatchew Mekuria and Congolese likembé collective Konono No. 1 before "Catch My Shoe," and their influences on the band are clear.
Drummer Katherina Bornefeld shifts smoothly between tribal, flamenco and punk over the course of the album. Her drumming, complemented by Terrie Hessels' and Andy Moor's baritone guitars, provides the strong backing without which many of the album's songs would be lost.
One such song is "Eoleyo," in which Bornefeld herself sings. This is probably the most ambitious track on the album, as The Ex manages to fuse a traditional, melodic African vocal style with discordant, punk−style guitar and makes it sound nothing short of amazing. If the many textures of the song were arranged any differently, the song would probably fall flat, but The Ex manages to draw everything together effortlessly into a surprisingly catchy hodge podge of instruments and rhythms.
If newcomers are put off by the potentially overwhelming complexity of the band's songs, The Ex does occasionally give a nod to more conventional, indie−style music. "Bicycle Illusion" is one such song and one of the most approachable tracks on "Catch My Shoe." African−style beats are still present, but their combination with low−key lyrics and upbeat guitar makes the song a dance−worthy complement to the heavier, more experimental tracks on the album.
At the same time, however, "Bicycle Illusion" also displays one of the only potential weaknesses of the album: The Ex's seemingly ingrained urge to give a shout−out to punk music. Most of "Bicycle Illusion" bounces along, driven by de Boer's well−suited vocals, but when the song accelerates and then disintegrates into a freak−out of guitar and thrash−style shouting, the effect isn't particularly pleasing or even necessary.
Similar endings conclude "Tree Float" and "Problems." This repetition is just a small part of the album as a whole, but it nevertheless starts to seem hackneyed relatively quickly and is one of the only parts of the album that could be considered predictable.
The unusual length of the songs can also be off−putting, as only one of the album's nine tracks clocks in at under five minutes. Still, though the songs are longer than one would find on most punk albums, they generally change enough to keep from getting repetitive or boring.
Regardless of your opinion of The Ex's previous albums, if you're willing to take the time to process this album's complexities, you're in for a treat. Songs can go from melodic to thrashing in the blink of an eye and still manage to seem cohesive.
From the trudging building of "Maybe I Was the Pilot" to de Boer's proclamation that "Everything is finished here/ Forever, I am done" on the album's last track, "Catch My Shoe" is a solid, genre−spanning installation in The Ex's discography, and it is surely not the end of the band's legacy.
Ashkenazi Jews have been hiding a terrible secret from the culinary world. Withholding this secret from the general public is the reason why many people believe that the traditional food of their Eastern European Jewish friends is boring and flavorless. The secret, my gastronomic friends, is gribenes, which, translated roughly from Yiddish, means "unholy deliciousness."* Gribenes (pronounced GRI−bih−niss) is essentially chicken skin fried with onions. It's the bacon of kosher eats, the magic fairy dust of the shtetl. Sprinkle it on anything and there is a 100−percent chance that it will taste better.
I totally understand why gribenes hasn't soared in popularity the way, say, macaroni and cheese has in recent years. There is a certain "yuck factor" to the idea of chicken skin, which on its own may evoke images of sad, pale arm flab with goose bumps. Yet I believe that Americans have the capacity to get over their crippling neophobia and try some foods that sound kind of weird and ethnic.
Take, for example, sweetbreads (aka offal, aka animal organs). Formerly discarded parts unvalued by the Western dining scene are now seen on the menus of high−end restaurants and have become an essential part of nose−to−tail eating, an effort to celebrate and consume all parts of the animals we eat. These days you can even get cow tongue in your burrito at Anna's Taqueria. Ask for lengua! This sort of reverse−whitewashing of food in America can be viewed as both a way to waste less and a way to revisit the foods our ancestors ate in times when waste simply was not an option.
The laws of kashrut that govern the diets of those who keep kosher forbid the use of dairy products, like butter, for cooking with meat. Lard, a pig product, is also forbidden. Because Eastern European Jews did not have access to plant−based cooking oils, schmaltz — or rendered chicken fat — was used instead.
Gribenes began as a byproduct of schmaltz extraction. Some babushka probably discovered how delicious it was and began putting it on items that gribenes is traditionally served with, like kugel and latkes, because those both definitely needed to be more fattening.
The addition of onions is simple, elegant and inspired. They flavor the gribenes but also caramelize and crisp around the edges in the bubbling golden ambrosia that is schmaltz. The combination is otherworldly. The chicken skin itself, cut into pieces, becomes light and crunchy. A sprinkling of salt is really all it needs to become the snack or garnish of dreams.
How can these precious little nuggets be used to elevate your meals? The options are nearly limitless, though I'd probably stop before dessert. Delicious plain, I'd also recommend them on sandwiches, in salads, mixed into mashed potatoes — heck, they'd even be great in soup. I say reach for your statins and give gribenes a chance. Here's how to make it: Ingredients: − About 4 cups (or whatever you have) of chicken skin** cut into small pieces (1/2 inch or smaller) − 1 onion, chopped − Salt
Place chicken skin and onion in a heavy pan and cook over low heat, stirring every so often, until the fat has rendered and the chicken skin and onions are golden to dark brown. Strain the onions and chicken skin onto a paper towel to drain. If you know what's good for you, save the schmaltz and cook with it. Season the gribenes with salt to taste. Avoid eye contact with your cardiologist.
*Actually, "gribines seems to be related to Griebe (plural Grieben) in various German dialects (from Old High German griobo via Middle High German griebe) where Griebenschmalz is lard from which the cracklings have not been removed" (Wikipedia).
**Chicken skin can be procured from raw chicken from the grocery store. Just buy with skin on, duh.
