With ninjas!
Half One:
Half Two:
So, I'm terribly in love with the TV show seen above. It's called Pythagoras Switch, and it's basically Sesame Street's hip Japanese cousin. I stumbled upon it last week while exploring my new favorite blog, TV in Japan, and frankly, I couldn't be happier. In the few episodes I've seen, there have been more endearing moments than I can count... almost. In the interests of science and contradiction, here's a list of the five best things about Pythagoras Switch so far:
5) Televi-John. At the beginning of each episode, viewers are treated to the most overtly education segments of the entire show. It basically consists of two penguin kid-puppets getting schooled by an anthropomorphic book. Normally, since most people already have the basic post-six-year-old knowledge of, for instance, how a telephone works, this would normally be considered the worst part of the show. However, midway through the lesson, that rakish individual on the far left steps in to save the entire segment: Televi-John. Charged with supplimenting Uncle Book's lesson with some snazzy video graphics, John enters with a jaunty fanfare and a saucy flip of the ears. He seems to be some kind of sentient television/dog hybrid; I'm not real sure on the specifics. The one thing I do know is that Johnny easily dethrones my Hello Kitty waffle iron as the most adorable appliance I've ever seen.
4) Father Switch. Call me a sap, but there's nothing more heartwarming than seeing dads goof around with their kids and, as you can see in this clip, this certainly qualifies as goofy. Plus, anything that encourages people to play pretend/act like robots is just fine in my book. 50 points to anyone else who thought about creating one of those boxes for perverted use with a significant other. I know I can't be alone.
3) The Rube Goldberg bumps. These things are amazing. They're like Mousetrap on steroids. I was talking about these with Becky, and we agree: if we could get paid to make these for a living, we would.
2) Framy. Man, this list is quickly turning into a lovefest for imaginary dogs. For a cartoon made up of nothing more than boxes of varying sizes, Framy is quite the charmer. His segments seem to revolve around the day-to-day adventures of a family dog. In the episode I saw, Framy's brother Spotty takes care of the baby, plays the piano, and gives up his cheese dinner to a needy family of mice. What a guy. Plus, I've had the music from that bit stuck in my head ever since I heard it. It's just... bouncy.
1) Algorithm March. Oh my. I mean, what can I say? My words are insufficient. I just can't. Just... just watch again.
I can't get enough. If you feel the same, some quick searching on Youtube should yield enough results to keep you entertained. You can also check out Dattebayo Fansubs' translation project at their website.
Hinterlander - Cake to Burn. Like Pythagoras Switch, Hinterlander is a pleasant surprise from the Pacific Ocean. In this case, the point of origin is Hawaii, and songwriter Heidi Nelms. Described as Miss Nelms' "musical shelter", Hinterlander offers listeners tenderly drowsy folk songs that avoid the deliberate oddness of Johanna Newsome as well as the affected cheekiness of acts like the Ditty Bops. The tracks on the band's latest album, 2005's Minikin, fuzz in and out of consciousness, held together primarily by Nelms' siren vocals. I just got ahold of this one last week, and I'm kicking myself for not tracking it down sooner. If you missed this one the first time around, too, do yourself a favor and track it down. If you're not satisfied, you can punch me in the stomach*.
(*Me=Mike Hannemann.)
Hinterlander - Sweet Milk. The thing that first struck me about Hinterlander's work was the apparent incongruity of their songs' sound and the geographical location in which they were produced. While the album certainly exudes a kind of flowery warmth, it's certainly far from the tropical expectation that pop into one's head when the word "Hawaii" comes up. As usual, this is just another example of my occasionally-glaring lack of information. Not only has Hinterlander been leading the charge for the Aloha State's indie music scene since 1998, but the band's label, Skinny Chest, has been helping like-minded artists do the same for just as long. Be a cool kid; check 'em out.
Half Two:
So, I'm terribly in love with the TV show seen above. It's called Pythagoras Switch, and it's basically Sesame Street's hip Japanese cousin. I stumbled upon it last week while exploring my new favorite blog, TV in Japan, and frankly, I couldn't be happier. In the few episodes I've seen, there have been more endearing moments than I can count... almost. In the interests of science and contradiction, here's a list of the five best things about Pythagoras Switch so far:
5) Televi-John. At the beginning of each episode, viewers are treated to the most overtly education segments of the entire show. It basically consists of two penguin kid-puppets getting schooled by an anthropomorphic book. Normally, since most people already have the basic post-six-year-old knowledge of, for instance, how a telephone works, this would normally be considered the worst part of the show. However, midway through the lesson, that rakish individual on the far left steps in to save the entire segment: Televi-John. Charged with supplimenting Uncle Book's lesson with some snazzy video graphics, John enters with a jaunty fanfare and a saucy flip of the ears. He seems to be some kind of sentient television/dog hybrid; I'm not real sure on the specifics. The one thing I do know is that Johnny easily dethrones my Hello Kitty waffle iron as the most adorable appliance I've ever seen.
4) Father Switch. Call me a sap, but there's nothing more heartwarming than seeing dads goof around with their kids and, as you can see in this clip, this certainly qualifies as goofy. Plus, anything that encourages people to play pretend/act like robots is just fine in my book. 50 points to anyone else who thought about creating one of those boxes for perverted use with a significant other. I know I can't be alone.
3) The Rube Goldberg bumps. These things are amazing. They're like Mousetrap on steroids. I was talking about these with Becky, and we agree: if we could get paid to make these for a living, we would.
2) Framy. Man, this list is quickly turning into a lovefest for imaginary dogs. For a cartoon made up of nothing more than boxes of varying sizes, Framy is quite the charmer. His segments seem to revolve around the day-to-day adventures of a family dog. In the episode I saw, Framy's brother Spotty takes care of the baby, plays the piano, and gives up his cheese dinner to a needy family of mice. What a guy. Plus, I've had the music from that bit stuck in my head ever since I heard it. It's just... bouncy.
1) Algorithm March. Oh my. I mean, what can I say? My words are insufficient. I just can't. Just... just watch again.
I can't get enough. If you feel the same, some quick searching on Youtube should yield enough results to keep you entertained. You can also check out Dattebayo Fansubs' translation project at their website.
Hinterlander - Cake to Burn. Like Pythagoras Switch, Hinterlander is a pleasant surprise from the Pacific Ocean. In this case, the point of origin is Hawaii, and songwriter Heidi Nelms. Described as Miss Nelms' "musical shelter", Hinterlander offers listeners tenderly drowsy folk songs that avoid the deliberate oddness of Johanna Newsome as well as the affected cheekiness of acts like the Ditty Bops. The tracks on the band's latest album, 2005's Minikin, fuzz in and out of consciousness, held together primarily by Nelms' siren vocals. I just got ahold of this one last week, and I'm kicking myself for not tracking it down sooner. If you missed this one the first time around, too, do yourself a favor and track it down. If you're not satisfied, you can punch me in the stomach*.
(*Me=Mike Hannemann.)
Hinterlander - Sweet Milk. The thing that first struck me about Hinterlander's work was the apparent incongruity of their songs' sound and the geographical location in which they were produced. While the album certainly exudes a kind of flowery warmth, it's certainly far from the tropical expectation that pop into one's head when the word "Hawaii" comes up. As usual, this is just another example of my occasionally-glaring lack of information. Not only has Hinterlander been leading the charge for the Aloha State's indie music scene since 1998, but the band's label, Skinny Chest, has been helping like-minded artists do the same for just as long. Be a cool kid; check 'em out.
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