Celebrating the Warner Bros. Centennial with 100 Warner Films

The golden age of Hollywood — lasting from the mid1920s until the mid-1960s — was dominated by five studios: RKO, MGM, Fox, Paramount, and Warner Bros. RKO went belly up in 1957; now a faint whimper of its former roaring lion, MGM is part of the Amazon empire; and Fox has been absorbed into the Disney collective (for its Marvel and Star Wars rights, not its history or legacy catalog). Only Paramount and Warners are left standing. But in our era of ceaseless corporate consolidation, the Hollywood studio is a dying breed and these last giants’ fates, increasingly tied up in IP plays, feel, at best, shaky.

So let’s celebrate them while they’re here, starting with Warner Bros., which marks its centennial on April 4. The brothers Warner — Albert, Sam, Harry and Jack — had been in the film business for years before incorporating their studio on April 4, 1923. It didn’t take long for Warner Bros. to put its stamp on Hollywood — and the globe. The studio brought synchronized sound to cinema, established genres (gangster pictures and musicals) and perfected styles (noir and widescreen Technicolor), gave the world legendary stars (Bette Davis, Humphrey Bogart, James Dean), made animation anarchic (Looney Tunes), and invented the comic book movie (oops). The studio released plenty of stinkers, but when it connected — which it did, a lot — the results were some of the best, most enjoyable movies ever made.

Many of them are on the following list of 100 films for Warners’ 100 years. In organizing it, I didn’t include any documentaries, films that WB distributed but didn’t produce, or shorts. I also left off lost films and exercised some critical judgment. There are some years where, frankly, Warners released a lot of garbage. So rather than exclude a good film just to ensure complete coverage, I erred on the side of quality at the expense of representing every moment of the studio’s existence.

With that, enjoy (or not!) this Warner Bros. centenary watchlist.

The Gold Diggers (1923) — A silent film that set the template for Warners’ greatest musical.

The Jazz Singer (1927) — The introduction of synchronized sound into cinema. We ain’t heard nothing yet, indeed.

Lights of New York (1928) — The

by Dante A. Ciampaglia

first (now all but forgotten) all-talking feature film.

Little Caesar (1931) — The birth of the gangster genre; a little creaky but its stark fatalism still packs a wallop.

The Public Enemy (1931) — More modern and cynical than Little Caesar, this dirty rat gave us James Cagney and a murderer’s row of memorable moments.

I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang (1932) — A harrowing, haunting exploitation film starring Paul Muni as a poor sap ground up by the Depression’s worst depravities.

Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933) — Warners’ best musical drips with snappy dialogue, indelible performances, and magnificent pre-Code Busby Berkley numbers (“We’re In the Money,” “Petting in the Park,” and “My Forgotten Man”).

A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1935)

— Pre-Code Shakespeare is the best Shakespeare.

The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938)

— Every cinematic Robin Hood will live in the shadow of Errol Flynn’s Technicolor swashbuckler.

Angels with Dirty Faces (1938) — Cagney and Humphrey Bogart in a gangster picture directed by Michael Curtiz — you can’t miss.

Dark Victory (1939) — Bette Davis is always great, but never more than when she’s in an Oscar-winning drama.

The Letter (1940) — Another great Davis role that marries noir with drama — a signature WB style.

High Sierra (1941) — Bogart and Ida Lupino in a noir written by John Huston and directed by Raoul Walsh — a perfect studio picture.

The Maltese Falcon (1941) — The best noir Warners ever made, period. Casablanca (1942) — A film somehow more perfect today than when it was released 80 years ago.

Now, Voyager (1942) — Davis as the original spinster-to-sensuous beauty.

To Have and Have Not (1944) — Bogart and Lauren Bacall together for the first time.

Mildred Pierce (1945) — Joan Crawford won an Oscar as a woman on the verge of a breakdown in this classic studio melodrama.

The Big Sleep (1946) — A notoriously nonsensical noir, but who cares when you get Bogart and Bacall burning up the screen?

Dark Passage (1947) — Why not follow up The Big Sleep with Bogart and Ball round three?

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948) — Maybe director John Huston’s best film, an immensely entertaining take-no-prisoners excavation of man’s greed and hubris.

White Heat (1949) — Cagney’s last great gangster picture is the top of the world!

Strangers on a Train (1951) — A twisted murder masterpiece that finds Hitchcock at his most perverse. The carousel scene will haunt you forever.

A Streetcar Named Desire (1951) — It made Marlon Brando a star and embedded “Stelllllllaaaaaa!” in our cultural lexicon.

A Star is Born (1954) — Judy Garland’s best film and one of Hollywood’s toughest interrogations of the price of fame.

Rebel Without a Cause (1955) — James Dean smoldering in his red leather jacket, hot-rod chicken races — postwar generational ennui was never so cool, or dangerous.

The Searchers (1956) — Yes, its racism and gender issues are problematic. It’s also director John Ford’s most epic work and one of the most beautifully shot films ever.

Giant (1956) — George Stevens’ 201-minute chronicle of a Texas oil family is epic in every sense, starting with its cast: Elizabeth Taylor, Rock Hudson, and Dean.

A Face in the Crowd (1957) — Hard to imagine Andy Griffith as anything but Mayberry’s most affable lawman, yet here he is as America’s most fascistic celebrity in a film that only grows more relevant.

The Old Man and the Sea (1958) — A solid adaptation of Hemingway’s slim novel; an even better performance from Spencer Tracy.

Rio Bravo (1959) — Howard Hawks’ best Western stars Dean Martin and Ricky Nelson — oh, and John Wayne — and somehow it all works brilliantly. Ocean’s 11 (1960) — It doesn’t hold up all that well, but who can turn down the chance to hang with the Rat Pack in Vegas?

My Fair Lady (1964) — A musical Pygmalion and the standard by which all makeover movies are judged. Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966) — Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton were never better than in Mike

Nichols’ deeply uncomfortable, eminently watchable adaptation of Edward Albee’s play.

Bonnie and Clyde (1967) — Arthur Penn’s film changed Hollywood with its graphic violence and the lusty energy of its gorgeous stars Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway.

Cool Hand Luke (1967) — No failure to communicate here — this Paul Newman prison flick is a classic. Bullitt (1968) — Steve McQueen was never cooler, and car chases were never better.

The Wild Bunch (1969) — Sam Peckinpah covered the Western’s frontier towns and myths with buckets of blood and gore. The genre was never the same.

The Learning Tree (1969) — Photographer Gordon Parks’s debut feature proved he was as adept with motion pictures as he was with stills. (Two years later, he made Shaft.)

Trog (1970) — A cheapie B-movie about a modern doctor trying to communicate with a prehistoric man-creature. Also Joan Crawford’s infamous final film.

THX-1138 (1971) — George Lucas’ first feature is a singular achievement, the kind of paranoid sci-fi dystopia he would never approach again.

McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971) — Robert Altman’s anti-Western is unglamorous, muddy, and often hard to hear. But when we can make it out, what we get is spectacular.

A Clockwork Orange (1971) — This too-hot-for-UK-cinemas dystopian nightmare is as important to the sensibilities — and mystique — of director Stanley Kubrick as 2001: A Space Odyssey

Dirty Harry (1971) — Clint Eastwood got his signature line “Do you feel lucky?” from this late-career potboiler from director Don Siegel, as well as a series of Harry Callahan films.

The Candidate (1972) — A sly political comedy starring Robert Redford as a senate candidate running a hopeless campaign, freeing him to be honest. An energizing watch in any political climate.

Super Fly (1972) — Warners’ blaxploitation cash-in directed by Gordon Parks Jr. boasts a killer Curtis Mayfield soundtrack and is centered on a cocaine dealer trying to reform. What’s not to like?

Enter the Dragon (1973) — Bruce Lee’s American breakthrough was, is, and will always be a cinematic and cultural landmark.

Badlands (1973) — Terence Malick’s beautiful anti-Western, anti-Bonnie and Clyde debut feature is the foundation for every ruminative, challenging film he’d make afterwards.

Mean Streets (1973) — Scorsese’s second feature paired him with Robert De Niro for the first time and cinema was never the same.

The Exorcist (1973) — Physical body horror is scary; psychological spiritual horror is terrifying.

Blazing Saddles (1974) — One of Mel Brooks’ pantheon films is irreverent, vulgar, uproarious, and impossible to imagine it getting made today.

The Yakuza (1975) — An unexpectedly moving Japan-set noir directed by Sydney Pollack (from a Paul Schrader script) starring Robert Mitchum at his most hangdog and introspective.

Dog Day Afternoon (1975) — Attica! Attica! Oh, and Pacino is great. And John Cazale is heartbreaking.

All the President’s Men (1976) — The best journalism movie, period.

Superman (1978) — It made us believe a man could fly — and that Hollywood could make comic book movies.

The Shining (1980) — Kubrick upended horror convention (and expectation) in this Stephen King adaptation. It’s still beguiling and frustrating viewers and readers alike.

Blade Runner (1982) — Ridley Scott’s towering dystopian sci-fi noir, mercilessly rejected upon release, is one of the most influential films ever made.

National Lampoon’s Vacation (1983) — Hard to imagine National Lampoon magazine and Chevy Chase were popular enough to turn a goofy road trip comedy into a massive hit. But here we are!

The Right Stuff (1983) — You’re legally required to scream “Let’s light this candle!” when watching this 193-minute dramatization of the early days of America’s space program.

Gremlins (1984) — Only in the ‘80s could a campy creature feature about fuzzy little pets who turn into mischievous reptilian monsters if they’re fed after midnight not only get made but become a huge hit.

Purple Rain (1984) — Is this Prince vanity project dated? Sure. Is it still the best rock movie ever made? Absolutely. And the music and performances are timeless.

After Hours (1985) — Scorsese’s cult black comedy spins yuppie Griffin Dunne’s Soho sojourn to score with Rosanna Arquette into a Kafkaesque nightmare — and saved his career.

Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure (1985) — Tim Burton’s zany masterpiece turned a transgressive underground character into a mainstream American phenomenon.

True Stories (1986) — Talking Heads frontman David Byrne made a weird art film about smalltown America that no one knew what to do with it. A strange trip worth taking, at least once.

Lethal Weapon (1987) — Screenwriter Shane Black conquered Hollywood — and rewrote the economics of Hollywood screenwriting — with this buddy cop classic.

Beetlejuice (1988) — Another unique Burton classic, this time about a foulmouthed ghoul-for-hire played by Michael Keaton, firmly established his aesthetic sensibility.

Crossing Delancey (1988) — Joan Micklin Silver’s intimate romantic comedy is a classic New York film and a small miracle of Reagan ‘80s American cinema.

Batman (1989) — Ground zero for our comic book cinema culture, Burton’s take on the Caped Crusader put the “dark” back in Dark Knight.

GoodFellas (1990) — Scorsese’s gangster film to end all gangster films is like nothing that came before it — and totally in line with the genre tradition. It could only have been made at Warners.

Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991) — Every generation gets a Robin Hood. Kevin Costner was mine, and I will forever defend how fun and weird this film is (and the six times I saw it in theaters).

Unforgiven (1992) — Clint Eastwood’s best film — as an actor and director — and the best Western ever made is something rare: a summation, dissection, and end point for a genre.

Malcolm X (1992) — This epic biopic could be Spike Lee’s (and Denzel Washington’s) best film. A powerful, mature, serious, but never pretentious film that only grows more relevant.

The Fugitive (1993) — “Hugely entertaining” perfectly describes this big-screen adaptation of the classic TV series. It’s the kind of mid-budget film Hollywood has all but abandoned.

Heat (1995) — Michael Mann’s nearly-three-hour epic is the apex crime film and pairs Pacino and De Niro for the first time. A towering achievement.

Twister (1996) — Director Jan de Bont followed up Speed with a wild actioner about tornado hunters. A straight-up good time at the movies.

Mars Attacks! (1996) — Burton’s love letter to campy B movies of the ‘50s and those star-studded disaster flicks of the ‘70s is totally strange and a blast to watch.

L.A. Confidential (1997) — A classic noir so violent and perverse it could never have been made in classic Hollywood. Like GoodFellas and Unforgiven, a deconstruction and denouement of a genre.

The Devil’s Advocate (1997) — Pacino (as the Devil!) spitting out some of film’s most absurd dialogue. Keanu Reeves (as the Devil’s son!) just trying to keep up. Absurd fun in every way.

You’ve Got Mail (1998) — Nora Ephron’s remake of The Shop Around the Corner is an early Internet movie, a proto-Amazon-is-evil narrative, and the final on screen pairing of Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.

Analyze This (1999) — A mob boss who needs a psychiatrist is a goofy, hugely funny riff on De Niro’s onscreen persona that works thanks to his incredible chemistry with co-star Billy Crystal.

The Matrix (1999) — If you haven’t seen the Wachowski’s masterpiece in a while, watch it immediately. Everything holds up and, in fact, feels more urgent than 25 years ago. Whoa.

Eyes Wide Shut (1999) — Ignore Kubrick’s final film’s reputation as the masked-sex-party movie and watch it for a bracing examination of adult relationships and the assumptions we have about our partners.

Three Kings (1999) — The rare Gulf War film is also one of the great modern war pictures, an irreverent and confident heist flick that proved George Clooney (and Mark Wahlberg!) could act.

Romeo Must Die (2000) — A visceral, fun martial arts flick flecked with hiphop and style starring Jet Li and Aaliyah that kicks way above its weight.

A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001) — Steven Spielberg directs a unique sci-fi take on the Pinocchio story, conceived by Kubrick. What else do you need?

Ocean’s Eleven (2001) — Soderbergh’s remake is an effervescent caper with one of the great casts of all time (including the man, the myth, the legend Elliott Gould).

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005) — Shane Black’s buddy neo-noir, starring Robert Downey Jr. and Val Kilmer, is a good hang and stuffed full of acidly hilarious dialogue.

Letters from Iwo Jima (2006) — Clint Eastwood’s companion to his WW2 melodrama Flags of Our Fathers, focused on the Japanese experience and done in Japanese. An audacious achievement.

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007) — The best of a crop of early 21st century neoWesterns — a gorgeous, 160-minute slow-burn cinematic novel.

Michael Clayton (2007) — Clooney as a degenerate fixer setting fire to his corner of corporate America to earn back a bit of his soul. One of the best films of the ‘00s and a stone-cold classic.

The Dark Knight (2008) — Possibly the greatest Batman ever made; definitely the greatest Hollywood crime film of the 21st century.

The Hangover (2009) — This clever film revived the raunchy mainstream comedy (before squandering audiences’ love with two lousy sequels).

Magic Mike (2012) — I was surprised as anyone that this Soderberghdirected, Channing Tatum-starring male stripper film was not only fun but smart and emotionally intelligent.

42 (2013) — A biopic that soars as a great baseball film, Chadwick Boseman as Jackie Robinson and Harrison Ford as Branch Rickey are an unbeatable battery.

The Lego Movie (2014) — Yes, it’s a 101-minute toy ad. But c’mon, it’s so fun! And it has some heart in an ‘80s family film way.

Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) — There’s no reason for a decades-inthe-making Mad Max sequel to have worked. And yet it did and is one of the best films of the 2010s.

The Nice Guys (2016) — Shane Black’s ‘70s buddy noir, starring Ryan Gosling and Russell Crowe, is irreverent fun that could easily exist in the same universe as Altman’s The Long Goodbye Dunkirk (2017) — Christopher Nolan upends the war film by depicting the Dunkirk evacuation through three timeframes: one week, one day, and one hour. There’s no other war film like it.

Blade Runner 2049 (2017) — A Blade Runner sequel didn’t need to happen, yet Denis Villeneuve’s film is way better than it has any right to be. An honest reckoning with and expansion of the original.

The Matrix Resurrections (2021) — What could’ve been a crass cash-in is a subversive undermining of our IPdominated remake culture and a fun action movie.

Riverside Odds: Rock Will Make a Comeback

by Roderick Thomas

As a genre, rock n’ roll hasn’t seen the heights it flourished in during the 70s and 80s, or the pop culture dominance of the grunge and pop rock mid to late 90s.

However, that hasn’t stopped Riverside Odds from continuing to tour and create some classic rock music. I spoke with band front man R.W Hellborn about their new project, Punching Above our Weight, their tour and the state of rock n’ roll.

Roderick Thomas: Mr. Hellborn! Thank you for taking the time to speak with me.

R.W. Hellborn: It’s my pleasure.

RT: Where is everyone from?

R.W.H: All of us in the band are from different cities right outside of Philadelphia.

RT: Is Rock dead?

R.W.H: Well, you definitely don’t hear rock n’ roll on the radio as much as you used to. It doesn’t have the same marketability like it used to in the 80’s and 90s.

R.W.H: People complain about Kiss and Motley Crue still touring. Well, nobody is doing it the way that they are, you need these guys. Everything is cyclical though, rock will also have a resurgence.

RT: Is it because rock requires you to play instruments and we are in a digital era?

R.W.H: I don’t know. I think things just come and go in cycles. Even the word rockstar has grown beyond the rock genre. To be honest it’s overused.

R.W.H: I mean disco is back in a way with artists now too. For rock, it’s just a matter of time.

RT: How do you think rock will make a comeback?

R.W.H: Maybe through grunge, it’s hard to say. There are so many different sub genres within rock itself. Humans haven’t changed music, what sounds good, sounds good no matter the interpretation.

RT: Who were the folks that you loved when you were coming up?

R.W.H: I love musicians that aren’t afraid to be theatrical and command a crowd. Freddy Mercury in Queen, Fiona Apple and Tina Turner are great examples of that. I especially love women in rock, they’re just so badass as performers.

RT: What makes a Rockstar?

R.W.H: It’s about the feeling for me. It’s not just music, its performance and its theater. For me, a rockstar has all three things: good songs, personality and great performances.

RT: Who do you like in music right now?

R.W.H: These days, I listen to more pop artists than rock n roll. I like Billie Eilish, she’s interesting.

RT: Do you think women have an edge in the genre?

R.W.H: I think women have freedom on stage. I think for a lot of dudes in many genres, they get typecast and aren’t as expressive on stage.

RT: How was it creating your new album Punching Above Our Weight?

R.W.H: With this album, we let go of all restrictions and we allowed ourselves to have some freedom, and wrote the best songs we could write.

RT: What’s the hardest part about touring?

R.W.H: Doing it when you’re independent, encountering the unknown and all the idiosyncrasies of being a bandmate on a bus [laughs].

RT: What do you want to accomplish this year?

R.W.H: We definitely want to get back to the west coast and the midwest by the end of the year.

RT: What kind of musical legacy do you want to create?

R.W.H: That we were having fun. That you had a great time watching and listening to us.

RT: What’s coming up next for you?

R.W.H: We’ve got a couple shows coming up on the east coast. We are actually doing a show with Lisa B and Supreme, some excellent Philly rappers, can’t wait!

RT: Thank you so much for speaking with me, congrats on your new album.

R.W.H: Thank you!

RT: Check out Riverside Odds on tour and their new project, Punching Above Our Weight, available now on streaming platforms.

Roderick Thomas is an NYC based writer, filmmaker, (Instagram: @Hippiebyaccident, Email: rtroderick. thomas@gmail.com, Site: roderickthomas.net)

The new books of Liturgy. Haela Ravenna Hunt-Hendrix has long fronted a powerful band. The first three Liturgy releases were impressive, intelligent, calculated and well-executed albums fairly entrenched in black metal. The group (of which, at this point, Hunt-Hendrix is the only constant) has since released a second three discs, and it’s with these—2019’s H.A.Q.Q., 2020’s Origin of the Alimonies and the new 93696 (CD, double LP and download from Thrill Jockey)—that Liturgy rises above the form. At this point, skipping out on the Brooklyn band’s music is like giving Nina Simone a pass because you don’t like vocal jazz. Sure, that’s what she does, but she’s so much more. Liturgy’s music is still pretty heavy, think sheets of cold rain in the night, but they’ve grown into something remarkable, something unique and powerful. Hunt-Hendrix is fortunate to have a new line-up that’s fully able to realize her compositions, but the last three albums have been all about her vision. There is plenty of philosophy behind them (lengthy expositions are up on YouTube) but it’s the sonic architecture that makes the records so exciting. In adding guests from New York’s contemporary classical and improv realms on H.A.Q.Q. and Origin of the Alimonies, Hunt-Hendrix developed ideas about orchestration and studio engineering that are further refined on 93696. The results are surprising, unsettling and beautiful, like being in a trance in a chasm of broken glass. There’s glockenspiel, Wurlitzer and zither and moments of angelic chorales. There are passages of thrash interrupted by processed beats and jarring digital glitches. There’s bits of riffage and lots of screaming into the bleakness, which certainly isn’t for everyone. But at this point, it shouldn’t be dismissed for reasons of not liking metal.

Liturgy has been a point of controversy at least since 2015, when its frontperson (then known as Hunter Hunt-Hendrix) issued a lengthy screed on what black metal is, or should be, or could be. At this point, understanding the meta- physics behind Hunt-Hendrix’s music is probably about as essential as being versed in Aleister Crowley is for appreciating Led Zeppelin. There’s a lot going on beyond the theory, and it’s pretty powerful stuff. four tubas and has delved into reggae and calypso, traditions from India and Mali, all the while retaining his own, enigmatic style. On Savoy, he lays claim to an older generation of song from the first track, where he talks about his parents meeting at the Savoy Ballroom in Harlem and his growing up with all their “cool and hip” music. Like the great Lead Belly, he’s a living songbook of the African diaspora. If U2 is deserving of a Kennedy Center Honor for making “significant contributions to American culture,” as the Irish band received in December, surely Mahal is overdue.

“Die! Die! Die!” to mark indictment day and then encored with a favorite from the MIDI days, with Singing Resident intoning in his pronounced drawl that “life is a lot like the freak show ‘cuz nobody laughs when they leave.” The Residents have doggedly been chasing an immediately recognizable aesthetic of cartoon creepiness for 50 years now, which makes their projects great even when they’re not. Hell, let’s put them in the Kennedy Center Hall of Fame as well.

#IYKYK: The duo that got Iggy Pop to guest on a song, repeating the word “moron” 21 times—that being Lancaster, England’s the Lovely Eggs–debut their Eggs TV on YouTube April 6. It can’t not be good.

The natch’l jazz. Louis Jordan’s “Is You Is or Is You Ain’t My Baby?” was—for me and I suspect for many—an early peek into a musical past. I don’t know where I heard it first, but it’s likely it was seeing the 1946 Tom and Jerry cartoon “Solid Serenade” on television. I know it was well familiar when I heard Joe Jackson sing it on his 1981 album Jumpin’ Jive. It’s an immediately likeable song, even for a kid, with lots of rhymes, creative license with the grammar and a sentiment that’s easy to grasp. Jackson’s rendition, and the whole of the album, holds up remarkably well four decades later. He takes it on with a love for early jazz but, even more, respect for the craft of past songwriters.

The song shows up again on Savoy, the new album by Harlem-born octogenarian Taj Mahal (CD, LP and download out April 28 from Stony Plain Records). Mahal put his best foot forward in January with the single, “Gee Baby, Ain’t I Good to You,” a slow blues with lush horn accompaniment. It’s a fine album all around, though, with a strong band of San Francisco session players, and it reminds me of Jackson’s record in that it’s all about the songs. He steps up to Jordan again with a grooving take on “Caledonia” (it doesn’t top James Cotton’s 1976 live version, but what could?) and does quite nice readings of Duke Ellington’s “Mood Indigo” and “Do Nothin’ Til You Hear From Me.” He also executes some sweet scat on “Sweet Georgia Brown” and duets with Maria Muldaur on “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” Beginning to end, it’s a pleasure.

Mahal formed his first band, with fellow guitarist Ry Cooder, in 1964 and around that time was working for Howlin’ Wolf, Lighnin’ Hopkins and other blues greats. Later that decade, he appeared in The Rolling Stones’ Rock and Roll Circus. He led a band that featured

Everyone comes to the freak show. I decide over and over again that I’m done with the Residents but every time the wheel spins I’m right back in, buying each reissue and going to every tour. Time and again, from their 1990s discovery of MIDI technology to the sad loss of founding member Hardy Fox in 2018, it’s been easy to say their day has past, but the fact is they keep on delivering. Triple Trouble, a new movie by the anonymous-ish outcasts, got its NYC premiere at the Museum of Modern Art on March 7 and had all the hallmarks of Residents storytelling: first-person narrative, clumsy exposition and plenty of referencing themselves and their history. It was also, in their always dependable way, kinda great. On March 30, they brought their Faceless Forever tour to Le Poisson Rouge and reliably, joyously, rolled out their hits, opening with Hank Williams “Jambalaya (On the Bayou)’ and ripping through reworked versions of “Hello Skinny,” “Smelly Tongues,” “Moisture,” “Constantinople” and “Semolina.” Unusually, the one known as the Singing Resident didn’t say a word between songs, but they played “Bach is Dead” for Bach’s Gregorian-calendar birthday eve and the Donald Trump dedication