Review: Chicago XXXII: Stone of Sisyphus
Chicago fans will note that the title track sounds awfully familiar. It's been "out" for about fifteen years, in stages of dubiously varying legality. It was actually released about five years ago, on Chicago's "The Box", which contains five CDs of their very best and well-known music. Apparently there was an album attached to the orphaned Stone of Sisyphus, one that had been hanging around since 1993, and only now is it getting released. Drama with record companies ensues.
It, along with Chicago XXX, mark a weird fourth era in Chicago's music. First, we had the brilliance of Chicago's first two or three albums, characterized by some sort of brassy edge and influenced by the Windy City itself. Sometime in the 70s, you could almost hear the band saying "okay, let's take the edge off, and start playing power ballads." ("After all, it's the 70s, and that's what all the cool kids are doing. It's either that, or we subject you to a decade of disco." Whatever they think of the power ballad era, the fans thank you for picking the former.)
Inevitably, the musical graveyard of the 80s had to roll around, and bring us Poison and Whitesnake. (Tangent: if you're this guy, how are you supposed to take yourself seriously? It's two thousand freaking seven, and you're joining Whitesnake. You're their seventh drummer.) By that time, Chicago moved to stage 3, when Chicago changed their tune (so to speak) to "all right, now we play adult contemporary." That label's vague enough, but like alternative rock and pornography, you know it when you see it.
XXX and now Stone of Sisyphus are the fourth era, which basically translates into some weird amalgamation of the first three. Power ballad... power ballad... brass chorus! Or brass intro, giving way to some soft rock later in the song. Or any combination of the three. As I always say when I'm talking about this band, I'm inherently biased toward the more brass-heavy songs, mostly because I'm a trumpet player. "Stone of Sisyphus" is probably the band's strongest track because of that. I also like "Plaid", which has a sort of "Kalimba Story"-era Earth Wind and Fire inspiration to it. That makes sense, given the bands' collaboration over the past several years.
Ironically, or perhaps completely expectedly, the album is at its strongest when it does draw from its past three eras of music. And it's at its weakest when it starts screwing around. The funk of "Mah-Jong" is interesting, but I have no idea what the song is talking about. And the chorus is repeated far too much. As for "Sleeping in the Middle of the Bed"... let's just say that Chicago should never, ever, ever rap. On a whole, "Middle of the Bed" seems an apt metaphor for this album. It's far from Chicago's best work, but then they've been far from their best work since 1973. And it's by no means the worst. For a Chicago fan who's been starved for new material for the last who-knows-how-many years, it's better than nothing. But, on the other hand, a Chicago fan who's been waiting that long has probably been spoiled off the first five or six albums.
General discussion and semi-review: Arctic Monkeys
My friend Melody recommended the Arctic Monkeys to me when I had the good fortune to hear "Phantom Limb" by the Shins when we were having lunch. "Wait a second!" you're saying. "What does a Shins song have to do with the Arctic Monkeys?" Nothing, except for the fact that it got us talking about good music. Blindly, I downloaded Your Favourite Worst Nightmare [sic on the "u" in "favourite"--they're British] and gave it a listen. I'm not sure if I like it yet. I don't know what I expected, but it was a lot faster and louder and more dissonant than I thought it might be. Very Franz Ferdinand, and that's not necessarily a bad thing.
Again on Melody's advice, I downloaded their less recent Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not. I listened to it, and I'm not sure it's necessarily any better. The most salient quality the band has is that all its music sounds approximately the same. Sure, it has some variation to it. At best, the music is energetic and driven. At worst, it's frenetic and jumbled, disorganized. Of course, I think that fans of the band would probably find that another strength, a reason to listen. The dissonance is not local to Your Favourite Worst Nightmare, there are perplexing and inexplicable changes of key and mode more or less without warning.
The influences on this band are unambiguous and uncompromising: unlike the American indie and alternative scenes, Arctic Monkeys take more than a few pages from British punk. One disturbing trend that's shown up from across the pond, though, is the practice of muffling and muddying vocals, seemingly intentionally. It almost seems in vogue to sing too close to a bad microphone, then feed the result through some manner of filter that degrades the sound quality even further. I don't ever think it's a good thing to make your music sound worse deliberately, but then again I like my classical music tonal too.
Bottom line, Arctic Monkeys aren't a bad band, I don't think. But I don't see me suddenly renouncing Shinsism and converting. If you don't need all of your songs to sound any different from each other, then you're not going to have a problem with the Arctic Monkeys. If you like your songs fast and loud and under three minutes on average, then you'll like them a lot. And if you wish the early-2000s "pop-punk" movement did more to honor the "1980s London" half of its roots, then you might just have a new favorite band.
Coming up, a couple of indie reviews that aren't at all "mainstream indie".
Currently listening: "Hungarian Dance No. 5 in D minor", Brahms
Showing posts with label Chicago. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chicago. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Anatomy of a Mix Tape: Part II
Continued from part I...
Track 6: "Cath..." by Death Cab for Cutie, track 4 from Narrow Stairs, May 2008
Death Cab needs no introduction to many people. They're probably the most successful and well-known exemplar of the contemporary "indie" tradition, even though they, like the Decemberists, have now made the lemming-jump to a major label. Or so the most hardcore fans thought would happen, and a few probably still insist did happen. Death Cab's style is emo first and foremost, but an honest and genuine emo, never turning to whining. Their instrumentation is especially solid, doing well to avoid the screaming and intentional, misplaced dissonance that some of their peers rely on.
Narrow Stairs promised some drastic changes from Death Cab's earlier music, and while it is a lot different, we still have the same band. Death Cab's songs have never been particularly optimistic on a whole. Perhaps they weren't as clearly melancholy as Narrow Stairs turned out to throw at us, maybe they didn't come right out and say there was "No Sunshine", but objectively it was more a refinement than a departure. "Cath...", like the review of the album mentioned is widely agreed to be the best song on it, and I agree with public opinion here. "Cath..." is absolutely classic Death Cab, a pleasant little story of a girl who unwisely ends up with a man who doesn't love her.
Honorable mentions: "The Sound of Settling" and "We Looked Like Giants", Transatlanticism, "Marching Bands of Manhattan" and "Soul Meets Body" from Plans
Track 7: "Get Off" by the Dandy Warhols, track 7 from Thirteen Tales form Urban Bohemia, August 2000
I proclaim myself to be a Dandy Warhols fan on the strength of this album alone--without having heard any of the band's other music. I've been assured that the rest of their music is way different from this one anyway, and honestly, if this album were the band's only one ever, that would be more than enough for me to consider them masters of the craft. I suppose you could call it "psychedelic" rock, if for no other reason than the multitude of drug references and the insistent dreaminess of many of their songs.
The lyrics on this album range from introspective to satirical, from self-satisfying to insightful, from boorish to sublime. And they do some remarkably creative things with structure and instrumentation, ranging from totally conventional 4/4 guitar-driven rock to ethereal, drifting experiments. "Get Off" is about exactly what it sounds like it's about. And it's wonderfully fun to listen to.
Honorable mentions: Practically anything from Thirteen Tales from Urban Bohemia, particularly "Godless", "Bohemian Like You", and "Big Indian"
Track 8: "Make Me Smile" by Chicago, track 2 from side 2 of Chicago II, January 1970
Along with the Beatles, Chicago is one of two bands on the CD that I first came to through my parents. Musical originality is a big thing with me, and Chicago exemplifies that brilliantly. I can't think of another band that so completely integrates a horn section into their music. Cake tries, and puts up a good show. But one trumpet, while it is the cornerstone of any good horn section, just doesn't compare to the Loughnane-Pankow-Parazaider triad that's given Chicago its unique sound for four decades. Perhaps not until Norah Jones did we have an artist that was so completely accepted in the pop scene but also gave jazz bands something interesting to play too.
I'm partial to Chicago's earlier stuff for just that reason: it features the horn section the best and the most creatively. Another reason is that I really like the city Chicago, an influence on the band and particularly the earliest few albums. The reason I like "Make Me Smile" in particular is that I have personal experience with it; a few weeks back in middle school jazz band. Even though it was sort of a hokey arrangement, that was the first song I ever played that I'd heard of before I played it.
"Make Me Smile" is actually the first part of a seven-song cycle, "Ballet for a Girl in Buchannon", that also includes the slow-dance staple "Color My World. The version I have actually includes the first three or four parts of the cycle on the same track, which is all the better. But "Make Me Smile", which showcases Chicago's mastery of dynamics and of course has a memorable trumpet solo, steals the show.
Honorable mentions: "Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is" from Chicago Transit Authority, "25 Or 6 To 4" from Chicago II
Track 9: "Suddenly I See" by KT Tunstall, track 9 from Eye to the Telescope, February 2006 (US)
Where most of the artists featured on the CD are either products of direct recommendation or a bit of self-directed musical digging, KT Tunstall comes from the radio. The Atlanta radio station Dave.fm, which is usually pretty decent, provided it's not on a weird 80s kick, or a streak of several overly mellow songs in a row, in the vein of Jack Johnson. In fact, browsing their recent playlist, "Suddenly I See" was played not half an hour ago, along with "Sweet and Low" by Augustana, "Californication" by Red Hot Chili Peppers, and "Imagine" by John Lennon, all in the past few hours. (Though they do have a penchant for that irritating "Mercy" song that seems to be in vogue lately.)
I listened to the radio a lot in the summer of 2006, a time of teaching Koreans to speak English and staying at Andrew Hood's old house until the wee hours of the morning at least a few times a week. And whenever I turned on the radio, whether it be leaving for work at 8:30 am, or leaving work at 2 pm, or even coming home at 3 am, I had a better chance than not of hearing "Suddenly I See". And it really grew on me. I like the driving, energetic guitar, and Tunstall has a great voice (if maybe not as good as Jenny Lewis's). The song, of course, is a feminist one, but that doesn't make it any less musically sound. Plus, Tunstall looks really, really cute on the cover for the iTunes version of the single.
Honorable mentions: "Other Side of the World" and "Another Place to Fall" from Eye to the Telescope
Track 10: "Jacksonville" by Sufjan Stevens, track 5 from Illinoise, July 2005
Back in the grand old days of Folk Hall, quite the music community flourished on the local iTunes network. And an enterprising individual could take advantage of this with the OurTunes client to appropriate any sort of shared music onto his own computer, to the tune of possibly several gigabytes. I'd actually read about Illinoise in the Atlanta Fish Wrapper of all places, when it was first released, and thought "hey, that sounds cool." When I did appropriate it, it was more than cool. This album earned laudatory remarks like "best album of 2005" by many critics, and who am I to argue with that?
Those same critics will also probably say that "Chicago" is the album's standout track. It is good, no doubt. But the song that caught me when I first listened to it was "Jacksonville", which is actually quite a moving song about sympathy toward abolitionists. It, like many of Stevens' other songs, features folk melody and vocals against a symphonic background, and crams in allusions to the great Land of Lincoln. And even more than his other songs, there's something fundamentally uplifting, positive about it. Besides, I heard it at the legendary Kate Wasch Studios, which means it has to be of the highest quality.
Honorable mentions: "Come On! Feel the Illinoise!", "Decatur", and "Chicago" from Illinoise
Tune in tomorrow for part III.
Currently listening: "Lost Underworld" from Mother 2 - Giygas' Counterattack
Track 6: "Cath..." by Death Cab for Cutie, track 4 from Narrow Stairs, May 2008
Death Cab needs no introduction to many people. They're probably the most successful and well-known exemplar of the contemporary "indie" tradition, even though they, like the Decemberists, have now made the lemming-jump to a major label. Or so the most hardcore fans thought would happen, and a few probably still insist did happen. Death Cab's style is emo first and foremost, but an honest and genuine emo, never turning to whining. Their instrumentation is especially solid, doing well to avoid the screaming and intentional, misplaced dissonance that some of their peers rely on.
Narrow Stairs promised some drastic changes from Death Cab's earlier music, and while it is a lot different, we still have the same band. Death Cab's songs have never been particularly optimistic on a whole. Perhaps they weren't as clearly melancholy as Narrow Stairs turned out to throw at us, maybe they didn't come right out and say there was "No Sunshine", but objectively it was more a refinement than a departure. "Cath...", like the review of the album mentioned is widely agreed to be the best song on it, and I agree with public opinion here. "Cath..." is absolutely classic Death Cab, a pleasant little story of a girl who unwisely ends up with a man who doesn't love her.
Honorable mentions: "The Sound of Settling" and "We Looked Like Giants", Transatlanticism, "Marching Bands of Manhattan" and "Soul Meets Body" from Plans
Track 7: "Get Off" by the Dandy Warhols, track 7 from Thirteen Tales form Urban Bohemia, August 2000
I proclaim myself to be a Dandy Warhols fan on the strength of this album alone--without having heard any of the band's other music. I've been assured that the rest of their music is way different from this one anyway, and honestly, if this album were the band's only one ever, that would be more than enough for me to consider them masters of the craft. I suppose you could call it "psychedelic" rock, if for no other reason than the multitude of drug references and the insistent dreaminess of many of their songs.
The lyrics on this album range from introspective to satirical, from self-satisfying to insightful, from boorish to sublime. And they do some remarkably creative things with structure and instrumentation, ranging from totally conventional 4/4 guitar-driven rock to ethereal, drifting experiments. "Get Off" is about exactly what it sounds like it's about. And it's wonderfully fun to listen to.
Honorable mentions: Practically anything from Thirteen Tales from Urban Bohemia, particularly "Godless", "Bohemian Like You", and "Big Indian"
Track 8: "Make Me Smile" by Chicago, track 2 from side 2 of Chicago II, January 1970
Along with the Beatles, Chicago is one of two bands on the CD that I first came to through my parents. Musical originality is a big thing with me, and Chicago exemplifies that brilliantly. I can't think of another band that so completely integrates a horn section into their music. Cake tries, and puts up a good show. But one trumpet, while it is the cornerstone of any good horn section, just doesn't compare to the Loughnane-Pankow-Parazaider triad that's given Chicago its unique sound for four decades. Perhaps not until Norah Jones did we have an artist that was so completely accepted in the pop scene but also gave jazz bands something interesting to play too.
I'm partial to Chicago's earlier stuff for just that reason: it features the horn section the best and the most creatively. Another reason is that I really like the city Chicago, an influence on the band and particularly the earliest few albums. The reason I like "Make Me Smile" in particular is that I have personal experience with it; a few weeks back in middle school jazz band. Even though it was sort of a hokey arrangement, that was the first song I ever played that I'd heard of before I played it.
"Make Me Smile" is actually the first part of a seven-song cycle, "Ballet for a Girl in Buchannon", that also includes the slow-dance staple "Color My World. The version I have actually includes the first three or four parts of the cycle on the same track, which is all the better. But "Make Me Smile", which showcases Chicago's mastery of dynamics and of course has a memorable trumpet solo, steals the show.
Honorable mentions: "Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is" from Chicago Transit Authority, "25 Or 6 To 4" from Chicago II
Track 9: "Suddenly I See" by KT Tunstall, track 9 from Eye to the Telescope, February 2006 (US)
Where most of the artists featured on the CD are either products of direct recommendation or a bit of self-directed musical digging, KT Tunstall comes from the radio. The Atlanta radio station Dave.fm, which is usually pretty decent, provided it's not on a weird 80s kick, or a streak of several overly mellow songs in a row, in the vein of Jack Johnson. In fact, browsing their recent playlist, "Suddenly I See" was played not half an hour ago, along with "Sweet and Low" by Augustana, "Californication" by Red Hot Chili Peppers, and "Imagine" by John Lennon, all in the past few hours. (Though they do have a penchant for that irritating "Mercy" song that seems to be in vogue lately.)
I listened to the radio a lot in the summer of 2006, a time of teaching Koreans to speak English and staying at Andrew Hood's old house until the wee hours of the morning at least a few times a week. And whenever I turned on the radio, whether it be leaving for work at 8:30 am, or leaving work at 2 pm, or even coming home at 3 am, I had a better chance than not of hearing "Suddenly I See". And it really grew on me. I like the driving, energetic guitar, and Tunstall has a great voice (if maybe not as good as Jenny Lewis's). The song, of course, is a feminist one, but that doesn't make it any less musically sound. Plus, Tunstall looks really, really cute on the cover for the iTunes version of the single.
Honorable mentions: "Other Side of the World" and "Another Place to Fall" from Eye to the Telescope
Track 10: "Jacksonville" by Sufjan Stevens, track 5 from Illinoise, July 2005
Back in the grand old days of Folk Hall, quite the music community flourished on the local iTunes network. And an enterprising individual could take advantage of this with the OurTunes client to appropriate any sort of shared music onto his own computer, to the tune of possibly several gigabytes. I'd actually read about Illinoise in the Atlanta Fish Wrapper of all places, when it was first released, and thought "hey, that sounds cool." When I did appropriate it, it was more than cool. This album earned laudatory remarks like "best album of 2005" by many critics, and who am I to argue with that?
Those same critics will also probably say that "Chicago" is the album's standout track. It is good, no doubt. But the song that caught me when I first listened to it was "Jacksonville", which is actually quite a moving song about sympathy toward abolitionists. It, like many of Stevens' other songs, features folk melody and vocals against a symphonic background, and crams in allusions to the great Land of Lincoln. And even more than his other songs, there's something fundamentally uplifting, positive about it. Besides, I heard it at the legendary Kate Wasch Studios, which means it has to be of the highest quality.
Honorable mentions: "Come On! Feel the Illinoise!", "Decatur", and "Chicago" from Illinoise
Tune in tomorrow for part III.
Currently listening: "Lost Underworld" from Mother 2 - Giygas' Counterattack
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Tackling my Goals and Keeping my Promises (Part I of unknown parts)
Where to begin?
First, I am no longer under the sway of the Wretched Disease. Z-Pack failed me this time, but Levaquin seems to have done nicely in its stead. Second, it is sunny today, and it was sunny yesterday too. This is good news.
To begin, a couple of reviews. Short ones.
Review: Chicago XXX
These guys just don't quit. Thirty albums over forty years, touring, merchandising... you have to give them credit. And the best part? You listen to a song, and you can tell it's a Chicago song (credit to my dad for nailing that observation). Whether it's "25 or 6 to 4" from Chicago II or "90 Degrees and Freezing" off XXX, it's undeniably Chicago. And that's a good thing. Their latest effort is not without flaws or shortcomings--many of Chicago's songs simply tend to sound the same after a few listens. While I recognize that the band's vocal talents lend themselves to ballads, and that the ballad has been the bread and butter of the band for the last twenty years, that doesn't mean that there aren't fans of the old-school up-tempo songs that Chicago made a name with in the first place. It's not that I want to see less of, for example, "King of Might Have Been," it's that I'd certainly like to see more in the vein of "90 Degrees." But all in all, the band is still making quality music, even with all that other quality music in their past. And the cool part is, they're from Chicago, one of the greatest cities there is.
Review: Auntie Mame
Good old Shiloh Onstage is the only theatrical venue I know of that charges six dollars for a show. Parkview, which is describably better than Shiloh, charges five. Heritage, which is like freaking Broadway compared to either Shiloh or Parkview charges eight. But they deserve to (and damn, their theater is nice!). Hell, Georgia Tech only charges five for students. And Shiloh insists on extorting that extra dollar per person. Oh well.
The only reason I can stand to pay this much is because there are people I know and like both in the show and watching it with me. Usually it's Sally, who's a wonderful actress, who is in the shows I see; this time it was my friend Taylor's sister Mary. And as usual, the person I specifically come to see turns out to be the best part of the show. This was an appropriate comedy for a high school drama department, and it was done with about the amount of skill and talent as you'd expect from a decently good high school drama department. As seems to be typical, Auntie Mame featured the following:
--A reasonably strong lead, who knew the lines and the proper styling to deliver them, but didn't quite push into excellence;
--A couple of supporting characters who were entirely over-the-top, because that sort of thing gets reactions from the high school audience, but who could actually be very good actors if they toned it down just a bit;
--A bell curve of a few excellent performances, a few very weak performances, and mostly average to slightly above average acting by most of the cast;
--Technical difficulties that didn't materially interfere with the production, but made scene changes take a bit longer than they really needed to;
--Lines that could have been very funny, or very emotional, or very important to the plot, that were obscured by 1) overaccenting, 2) not speaking clearly enough, or 3) having someone else talking or music playing at the time;
--"Wait, how long did you say this play was again?"
But of course you didn't need to see Auntie Mame to know any of that happened; that's just how high school theater works. And as usual, a fairly good performance (if not a great one) combined with the chance to watch it with your friends, and your friends in it, made for an entertaining evening.
Now... the discussion of Star Wars to get that impressive-sounding list of topics started.
It's generally accepted that the original trilogy (Episodes IV-VI, "the originals") is much better than the newer trilogy (Episodes I-III, "the prequels"). Exactly how much better is of course a matter of personal opinion and open to some debate. Takes on this seem to range from "Oh, come on, the prequels weren't that bad" to "Wow, that sucked, but hey, it's still Star Wars" to "Holy crap, that ruined what used to be the best science fiction series ever" to "I didn't even like the originals that much, but these prequels definitely cemented my dislike."
So, the natural question is, why were the prequels so bad? Conventional wisdom seems to suggest that George Lucas is at fault. And this stance has a good deal of merit. Take a defining scene in The Empire Strikes Back, where Princess Leia tells Han Solo "I love you." And Han tells her "I know." Now, if you want me to believe that that was in the Lucas script, you're full of it. That was an ad lib moment, and one that exactly nailed the character that Lucas outlined in his script. It's how movies are supposed to work: the director comes up with an idea for a character, the actor comes up with how to play him properly, and it's this collaboration that makes the character memorable. You need both sides of the coin.
In the originals, we got both sides. In the prequels, we clearly did not. Lucas's micromanagement of everything and his death grip on the script, made the characters fall flat. Ewan McGregor, Natalie Portman, and Hayden Christensen are all accomplished actors. We all know that they know what they're doing. And yet their efforts fell flat because George Lucas wouldn't allow any "I know" moments in the prequels.
But I have two alternate explanations for why the prequels seemed to be terrible compared to the originals: scope and theme.
By "scope" I'm referring to the central conflict of the series. In the originals, the central conflict was superficially between the Empire and the Rebellion, but the more important philosophical conflict involved the Sith and the Jedi. The conflict in the prequels was also Sith vs. Jedi, but I think it might have been more interesting had it been farther removed from the original trilogy. Yes, the rise of Darth Vader is a very interesting premise, and one that's central to the story of Star Wars. However, I think it has more psychological (and therefore literary) than cinematic merit. Just get a decent author to write the book, and it would be a compelling novel. Recall how Jake Lloyd ruined Episode I; that problem would be fixed by novelizing the Darth Vader story compared to filming it. And Vader's ludicrous "Noooooo!" moment at the end of Episode III? In book form, that could have been internal and possibly very emotional, but in the movie it simply looked ridiculous. A better time period might have been, say, the rise of the Jedi in the first place, or the first war against the Sith; something where we didn't have any conceptions about the characters.
And the "theme" I'm referring to has to do with the internal motivations of the main character in each series. At its core, the original trilogy is a hero myth. I won't bore those of you who are unfamiliar with Joseph Campbell by detailing what that means; just think of Luke Skywalker. He was basically a whiny brat in Episode IV who gradually grew into a heroic warrior by the end of Episode VI. He had to deal with temptations from the dark side, having his friends in danger, personal centering and discipline, and weighing his own opinions against those of his teachers; this effected a remarkable transformation in his character.
Contrast this with the prequels, which is a love story at its core. Compared with the insight and majesty of the hero myth, a love story is mere popular tale. Especially one in which the actors involved are not really able to display a range of emotions that could have made the movies good, at least for a love story.
Coming up next... the remainder of what I promised in the last entry, plus a few thoughts on the basketball tournament.
First, I am no longer under the sway of the Wretched Disease. Z-Pack failed me this time, but Levaquin seems to have done nicely in its stead. Second, it is sunny today, and it was sunny yesterday too. This is good news.
To begin, a couple of reviews. Short ones.
Review: Chicago XXX
These guys just don't quit. Thirty albums over forty years, touring, merchandising... you have to give them credit. And the best part? You listen to a song, and you can tell it's a Chicago song (credit to my dad for nailing that observation). Whether it's "25 or 6 to 4" from Chicago II or "90 Degrees and Freezing" off XXX, it's undeniably Chicago. And that's a good thing. Their latest effort is not without flaws or shortcomings--many of Chicago's songs simply tend to sound the same after a few listens. While I recognize that the band's vocal talents lend themselves to ballads, and that the ballad has been the bread and butter of the band for the last twenty years, that doesn't mean that there aren't fans of the old-school up-tempo songs that Chicago made a name with in the first place. It's not that I want to see less of, for example, "King of Might Have Been," it's that I'd certainly like to see more in the vein of "90 Degrees." But all in all, the band is still making quality music, even with all that other quality music in their past. And the cool part is, they're from Chicago, one of the greatest cities there is.
Review: Auntie Mame
Good old Shiloh Onstage is the only theatrical venue I know of that charges six dollars for a show. Parkview, which is describably better than Shiloh, charges five. Heritage, which is like freaking Broadway compared to either Shiloh or Parkview charges eight. But they deserve to (and damn, their theater is nice!). Hell, Georgia Tech only charges five for students. And Shiloh insists on extorting that extra dollar per person. Oh well.
The only reason I can stand to pay this much is because there are people I know and like both in the show and watching it with me. Usually it's Sally, who's a wonderful actress, who is in the shows I see; this time it was my friend Taylor's sister Mary. And as usual, the person I specifically come to see turns out to be the best part of the show. This was an appropriate comedy for a high school drama department, and it was done with about the amount of skill and talent as you'd expect from a decently good high school drama department. As seems to be typical, Auntie Mame featured the following:
--A reasonably strong lead, who knew the lines and the proper styling to deliver them, but didn't quite push into excellence;
--A couple of supporting characters who were entirely over-the-top, because that sort of thing gets reactions from the high school audience, but who could actually be very good actors if they toned it down just a bit;
--A bell curve of a few excellent performances, a few very weak performances, and mostly average to slightly above average acting by most of the cast;
--Technical difficulties that didn't materially interfere with the production, but made scene changes take a bit longer than they really needed to;
--Lines that could have been very funny, or very emotional, or very important to the plot, that were obscured by 1) overaccenting, 2) not speaking clearly enough, or 3) having someone else talking or music playing at the time;
--"Wait, how long did you say this play was again?"
But of course you didn't need to see Auntie Mame to know any of that happened; that's just how high school theater works. And as usual, a fairly good performance (if not a great one) combined with the chance to watch it with your friends, and your friends in it, made for an entertaining evening.
Now... the discussion of Star Wars to get that impressive-sounding list of topics started.
It's generally accepted that the original trilogy (Episodes IV-VI, "the originals") is much better than the newer trilogy (Episodes I-III, "the prequels"). Exactly how much better is of course a matter of personal opinion and open to some debate. Takes on this seem to range from "Oh, come on, the prequels weren't that bad" to "Wow, that sucked, but hey, it's still Star Wars" to "Holy crap, that ruined what used to be the best science fiction series ever" to "I didn't even like the originals that much, but these prequels definitely cemented my dislike."
So, the natural question is, why were the prequels so bad? Conventional wisdom seems to suggest that George Lucas is at fault. And this stance has a good deal of merit. Take a defining scene in The Empire Strikes Back, where Princess Leia tells Han Solo "I love you." And Han tells her "I know." Now, if you want me to believe that that was in the Lucas script, you're full of it. That was an ad lib moment, and one that exactly nailed the character that Lucas outlined in his script. It's how movies are supposed to work: the director comes up with an idea for a character, the actor comes up with how to play him properly, and it's this collaboration that makes the character memorable. You need both sides of the coin.
In the originals, we got both sides. In the prequels, we clearly did not. Lucas's micromanagement of everything and his death grip on the script, made the characters fall flat. Ewan McGregor, Natalie Portman, and Hayden Christensen are all accomplished actors. We all know that they know what they're doing. And yet their efforts fell flat because George Lucas wouldn't allow any "I know" moments in the prequels.
But I have two alternate explanations for why the prequels seemed to be terrible compared to the originals: scope and theme.
By "scope" I'm referring to the central conflict of the series. In the originals, the central conflict was superficially between the Empire and the Rebellion, but the more important philosophical conflict involved the Sith and the Jedi. The conflict in the prequels was also Sith vs. Jedi, but I think it might have been more interesting had it been farther removed from the original trilogy. Yes, the rise of Darth Vader is a very interesting premise, and one that's central to the story of Star Wars. However, I think it has more psychological (and therefore literary) than cinematic merit. Just get a decent author to write the book, and it would be a compelling novel. Recall how Jake Lloyd ruined Episode I; that problem would be fixed by novelizing the Darth Vader story compared to filming it. And Vader's ludicrous "Noooooo!" moment at the end of Episode III? In book form, that could have been internal and possibly very emotional, but in the movie it simply looked ridiculous. A better time period might have been, say, the rise of the Jedi in the first place, or the first war against the Sith; something where we didn't have any conceptions about the characters.
And the "theme" I'm referring to has to do with the internal motivations of the main character in each series. At its core, the original trilogy is a hero myth. I won't bore those of you who are unfamiliar with Joseph Campbell by detailing what that means; just think of Luke Skywalker. He was basically a whiny brat in Episode IV who gradually grew into a heroic warrior by the end of Episode VI. He had to deal with temptations from the dark side, having his friends in danger, personal centering and discipline, and weighing his own opinions against those of his teachers; this effected a remarkable transformation in his character.
Contrast this with the prequels, which is a love story at its core. Compared with the insight and majesty of the hero myth, a love story is mere popular tale. Especially one in which the actors involved are not really able to display a range of emotions that could have made the movies good, at least for a love story.
Coming up next... the remainder of what I promised in the last entry, plus a few thoughts on the basketball tournament.
Saturday, February 04, 2006
More songs to listen to (Part II of II)
6) “The Infanta” by the Decemberists
I promise, this is my last foray into the realm of “indie rock.” But the Decemberists clearly deserve a mention here, mostly because they’re able to make good music about things other than love gone wrong. They have their share of those songs (which, by the way, are far more sincere than most), but a band’s musical greatness can truly shine when one of their best songs is about… an African child-queen? Calling an album Picaresque invites that sort of thing, but the Decemberists actually go through with it, and they do it spectacularly. This song has a colossal vocabulary, which is immediately attractive, and the Decemberists weave that vocabulary into a masterpiece. Don’t listen to this song once, because you’re almost certain to miss some of the remarkable uses of words the first three runs through. The result is something straight out of a Neal Stephenson novel, something more suited to a traveling minstrel or bard than a modern rock band. And that is by no means a bad thing.
7) “Springtime for Hitler” from The Producers soundtrack
Broadway shows can be called “daring,” “shocking,” and a variety of other adjectives that only the Village Voice could think up, but a show with a song called “Springtime for Hitler” as its huge show-stopping number can only be called “gutsy.” If you don’t know the play’s story, this is parody—no, I’m not advising anyone to go and listen to a song that praises the Fuhrer. Try this: think of comedic rhyming phrases that could possibly be used to describe the Third Reich. Difficult? Not for the comedic genius Mel Brooks and the rest of the writers and actors behind this theatrical tour de force. Nazi Germany used to be one of those “untouchable” entities that nobody dared parody, but The Producers destroyed that taboo. When listening to this song, keep in mind that the flamingly gay Roger De Bris is portraying Hitler (rumored to be gay himself), a role originally cast for the actual Nazi Franz Liebkind, all within the play in a play that’s central to The Producers. Then, lines like “Deutschland is happy and gay” are all the more hilarious.
8) “25 Or 6 To 4” by
9) “Longing” from the Hero soundtrack
Contemporary classical music on a whole doesn’t do it for me. Minimalism, atonality, and lack of a tonal structure do not make your music bold and original; they do not make it complex and intricate; they simply make it bad. One review of this type of music I read described it as “throwing a musical brick at the audience.” Tan Dun, however, has distinguished himself from the brick-throwers of the modern orchestral era by integrating Chinese folk themes into his compositions. This lends itself particularly well to movie soundtracks like Hero’s. Now, maybe you’ve seen Hero. Hopefully you liked it as much as I did. Maybe you even noticed that its soundtrack was pretty good. But even if you saw the movie and thought its music added something to it, you probably don’t know “Longing” in particular. I have to say that this is probably the most obscure song on this list. I didn’t even know of the song until an English teacher had us listen to pieces of music and write our reactions to them as short prose or poetry pieces. “Longing” was one of the selections, and the remarkable thing (about not only this piece, but Tan’s music in general) is that everyone can have a wildly different reaction to the piece, but somehow it’s still right. In one piece, using no words and about four instruments, Tan manages to convey more emotion, more imagery, and more significance than any songwriter could ever hope for.
10) “Bamboleo” by the Gipsy Kings
Chances are good that you’ve heard the song “Bamboleo.” You may not know it by name; heck, you might not even know who the heck the Gipsy Kings are. But “Bamboleo” is practically ubiquitous. And it represents the reason I like the Gipsy Kings: you can become a well-known and well-liked band without being able to sing. Of course, the Gipsy Kings have good musicianship. Their lyrics could be amazing (Mae-quality) or atrocious (Eminem-quality) and I’d have no idea either way because they’re all in Spanish. And the best part is, they can’t sing to save their lives. “Bamboleo” is featured on both a self-titled Gipsy Kings album as well as no less than three “Greatest Hits” compilations, and deservedly so. Despite the fact that their singing is certainly nothing to write home about and the lyrics are incomprehensible to a non-Spanish speaker, “Bamboleo” (like the rest of the Gipsy Kings’ songs) comes out passionate, musical, and incredibly fun to listen to.
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