"Votaries of horror" is a phrase used in a 1946 review of The Duchess of Malfi. This site is not devoted to the genre of horror but rather to the practices of the votary. Basically, the votary is a devoted fan. According to current academic thought, horror is any product of Western culture and capitalism. Since I like such products, the title seemed appropriate.
Bagpipes, like mimes (and Morris Dancing, for some reason), are one of those things people love to hate.
In Mr. and Mrs. Murder, the perfectly perfect couple Nicola and Charlie--who never, ever, ever fight--get into a brief spat when Charlie suggests, mildly, that Nicola may not be a wonderful singer. He tries to argue that there must be things about him that she dislikes, like the time he tried to learn the bagpipes.
As a raise-your-spirits song, few openings beat "Oh, What a Beautiful Morning."
I prefer the Hugh Jackman Oklahoma but Gordon McRae's rendition of the song is really something else!
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Another fantastic opening number is for Yuri on Ice! The animation is truly impressive.
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I am bringing this post forward to mention the fantastic opening to a drama (with an exceptionally clever title) about parallel lives. What impresses me so much about the opening is (1) it is short; (2) it is gripping; (3) it has great production values despite Thai shows generally not having as much money as Hollywood.
That is, the attraction of the opening is due, in part, to its simplicity. Kudos!
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Television shows are all over the map when it comes to the opening titles/musical themes. Some are classics, such as Monk (mostly Season 2+ but even Season 1). Some are incredibly lengthy, such as the initial opening sequences for Jag (do we really need background on Harm every time?) and Quantum Leap (I guess Bellasario liked to get ALL prior information out of the way upfront). And some, such as Castle, are bizarrely short.
Opening titles and musical themes from the 1980s and 1990s tend to be lengthy and often hokey. So I have to give extra kudos to Matlock (1986-1995). For the time-period, it truly is in a class of its own. (And only a minute!)
Peter and the Wolf by Sergei Prokofiev shows up in the fairy tale section.
However, unlike Hoffmann's Nutcracker, which was created in literary form before moving over to music, Peter and the Wolf was created as a musical piece from the beginning.
I saw Peter and the Wolf live at some point in my childhood. Unfortunately, I didn't remember it enough to know the answer to Jane's question, posed to a deceptive mother (who didn't actually attend the concert).
I recently picked up a picture book version and quickly lost interest--there is not, in fact, much of a plot: boy with animals catches wolf against his grandfather's wishes. Without the music, the story is somewhat blah.
So I determined that, like with Shakespeare's plays, the only way to truly appreciate the work was to watch it as it was meant to be watched: action with music.
Walt Disney (1946)
Walt Disney's version is entirely appropriate to Sergei Prokofiev's vision. He visited Disney in 1938 (the studio and the man). The animated version was created in 1940 and released in 1946, just after World War II. It is likely that had the studio waited even a little longer, the short never would have been released due to its Russian setting. The Cold War and McCarthyism was looming.
It is worth watching, namely, to be honest, for its nostalgic factor. It's classic and again, does Prokofiev's score justice.
It also doesn't go anywhere. It is better than the picture books but as a plot with an arc...eh.
Suzie Templeton and Hugh Welchman (2006)
The 2006 stop-motion animated feature is a marvel!
I confess to being a little worried beforehand since I knew about some of the changes. Due to the age in which we live, I fretted that the short would be heavy-handed with the theme.
I shouldn't have worried. (Hey, this was 2006, not 2023!) Yes, the true villains are the bullies in town. And Peter does free the wolf.
He frees the wolf after it eats the friendly, silly duck (eats it whole, which is in keeping with the original story). He still frees it. The boy who desperately wants to get out into the woods and nature and explore makes the tough choice because he is tough enough to handle it. He isn't afraid of the bullies now OR the wolf. He knows he can face the world. He knows he handle whatever comes, including risks.
The boy, Peter, is pure boy and lovely to watch as he gets scratched up and his hair goes wild.
The short is also very funny. The cat was animated by someone who "gets" cats. In fact, the cat receives a surprising amount of air time as it chases the bird, tries to act dignified after falling through an ice hole, stands off with the wolf in a gangster type gesture, and weaves around the grandfather's legs.
The music is also perfectly used. It doesn't begin until the boy finally gets outside the house and town. Then it bursts out of the screen, Dorothy entering Oz, only the woods are like the half-swamp I grew up next to, rather than some gorgeous, perfect nature preserve.
My siblings and I still loved the half-swamp. Similarly, the freedom and pleasure the boy finds in the small iced-over pond is worth all that music.
I highly recommend the short, which won an Oscar (another red flag for me--but turns out to be justified in this case). It is available on Amazon to rent and buy.
Encountering The Nutcracker in the fairy tale section of the library reminded me of the difficulty of categorizing.
Should The Nutcracker be placed in the 700s with the other ballet books because most people, including me, expect to find it there? If I went searching for it in the 700s without checking the computer first would I be frustrated by its non-appearance or delighted to learn--as I admit I only recently learned--that it was originally not a ballet but a fairy tale written by E.T.A. Hoffman in 1816?
It was adapted to a ballet in 1892 with Tchaikovsky's music. Hoffmann was connected to the theater and music world, so the connection is not as remote as it sounds. He was a theater manager, a respected music critic, a composer, and a writer. He belongs to the period of German Romanticism. His career of brilliance followed by a run of unfortunate events and decisions reminded me of Edgar Allan Poe, who was familiar with his work. Like Poe, he laid down plots and ideas that far outlasted his short life (he died when he was 46). The ballet Coppélia is also based on Hoffmann's fiction.
Balanchine delivered his famous version of The Nutcracker in 1954. I have seen the ballet several times and rewatched the live 2011 version on Youtube (it won an Emmy)--and I was reminded why I generally enjoy books and movies about ballet dancers more than ballet itself.
In fact, one of my favorite books growing up was one of the A Very Young...books by Jill Krementz: A Very Young Dancer tells the true life story of the ten-year-old School of American Ballet dancer chosen to play Marie in The Nutcracker. Love that behind the scenes stuff!
The Nutcracker is something I'm glad I saw--and I remember quite enjoying in-person live performances as a kid--but it also reminds me of the many musicals I've seen. I love musicals until about 90 minutes in, at which point my brain starts to go, "Seriously? Another song? Really? Get on with the plot already."
I also tend to find puppets and dummies rather alarming (yep, I'm one of those people who dislikes clowns).
Consequently, to read the tale, I turned to a collection of Hoffmann's tales, The Best Tales of Hoffmann, edited by E.F. Bleiler, rather than any of the lushly illustrated books that turn up in the fairy tale section. For one, quite honestly, the lushly illustrated books have terrible fonts. The failure to deliver decent text is a real failing, in my mind. A big picture of a nutcracker doesn't make up for the bad font; it just gives me nightmares.
I was most surprised to find that the ballet follows the first part of the tale fairly closely: Christmas Eve, presents, the gift of the Nutcracker by the eccentric godfather, the breaking of the Nutcracker, the arrival of the nutty mice, the Nutcracker's attempts to fight them off, the thrown shoe...
The ballet departs from the story at this pivotal point--for one, the Nutcracker becomes human in the ballet while in the story, his "curse" is not ended until after Godpapa Drosselmeier provides an explanation of the curse--it was due to the Mouse King. Marie then sacrifices a great many of her toys to save the Nutcracker from being chewed up by mice. She finally manages to convince Fritz to help and he provides the Nutcracker with a sword. The action takes place over some time.
It's quite readable! Bleiler points out that English Victorians tended to translate Hoffmann into tedious English, but Hoffmann's German was, in fact, brisk and modern. As Bleiler states, Hoffmann has "the technique of presenting the supernatural convincingly. He can arouse momentary conviction and acceptance for even the most outrageous fantasy." In fact, the story reminded me of Japanese anime like Spirited Away in which the dream world overlaps with the "real" world without apology (and far less dancing).
We also forget lyrics, la-la-la-ing during the in-between bits.
Coach, Season 2, has a very funny episode, "The Iceman Goeth," in which Coach--depressed at his break-up with Christine--goes to the local grill after his football team wins a game. He tries to cheer himself up by having everyone sing the school song.
What is so hilarious about the "sing along" is that no one knows the "in-between bits" and no one cares! They "na-na-na" without pause during the stanzas. The "not knowing" HAS become the school song, which just proves that if you sing anything with enough confidence, people will likely believe you--or, at least, go along before they realize, "Huh, wait a minute!"
What's the difference? Despite the gap in age, the acclaim, pressures, and--considering the processes involved--output are equatable.
In truth, I think Hitchcock is more the norm. (Even the Beatles broke up, which was entirely natural.) Artists get tired of their shtick. They want to try something different. They move on to a different medium. They put their energies into something non-art related. Directors and actors and music groups rise and fall not just in popularity but in production.
Nevertheless, the success of the Beatles raises the issue--why were they able to keep going for so long as a group and with such incredible, noteworthy output?
I recently read a book A Day in the Life by Mark Hertsgaard that examines the Beatles' music from the point of view of artistry. The writer does a fine job exploring the power of collaboration. The success of the Beatles, he argues, did not hinge on one single artist. Even though McCartney and Lennon wrote most of the songs and were arguably the leaders of the group, the presence of all members during all phases of production was not unusual and the contributions of all members was not slight. It was the energy or aura or creative input of the entire group that made them produce as they did.
What is equally astonishing is that every one of them had a strong career after the break-up, including Ringo (who often gets unnecessarily mocked). The charisma, hard work, and creative perspective of the individual members allowed them to excel in quite distinct ways later, which backs the collaboration argument. Hertsgaard proposes, fascinatingly enough, that Ringo replaced Pete Best as much for this elusive collaborative potential as for anything else. Ringo fit. He appeared to have a future. He was attractive as an artist. The others recognized in him a kindred spirit.
So why couldn't Hitchcock remake himself like these young men?
Well, for one, by the time he hit Torn Curtain, he was 67 years old, and yes, age does slow people down.
But I think there is another reason: Hitchcock fell victim to the intelligentsia. He began to believe in his own legacy before his legacy was complete.
The Beatles didn't. The most striking characteristic that I noted in Hertsgaard's analysis of the group was "irreverence."
Now, I don't mean "rebellion." Oh, they were fighting The Man! That's why they were so good! Their irreverence went deeper than that. They were willing to challenge not just The Man, they were willing to challenge the ideologies of the "avant-garde." They were even willing to challenge their own legacy, their own phenomenon. They challenged their manager, even though they liked him. They challenged fans, even though they knew they depended on them. They challenged intellectuals who wanted to cozen up to them. They knew better. They were Liverpool Boys at heart and forever.
Hertsgaard writes, "[P]recisely because the Beatles didn't know what they didn't know, they would suggest innovations that never would have occurred to better-trained but more conventionally minded colleagues." But you know, to the Beatles, conventional wasn't so bad either. They knew that they wanted to make money, for instance.
One of the sorrows of John Lennon's assassination and George Harrison's death from cancer is that they may have ended up who-knows-where. There's no strict or known trajectory that can be assigned to artists who are willing to knock down even the sacred cows of their artistic "set."
Video: "Eight Days a Week" is not considered the greatest of the Beatles' hits and the Beatles themselves reportedly didn't think much of it. I use it here because (1) I love it; (2) it showcases the incredible talent of these boys even when doing a "simple" rock song, which songs they never entirely fell out of love with; (3) it showcases the phenomenon that they walked away from by their 3rd album. Considering their age, that shows remarkable will-power and belief in their own abilities.
And belief in their own abilities is a trait they share with Hitchcock.
In an Andy Griffith episode "The Senior Play " Helen Crump allows the teens to plan their own production. Their play involves rock n' roll dancing. The principal of the school objects. He considers the dancing degenerate and cancels the senior play.
Helen Crump protests. She asks the principal to sit through another dress rehearsal. This time, the kids announce a dance from "your generation" (the principal's generation) or the "good old days." They then perform the Charleston complete with flappers and sheiks.
The point--an entirely valid point, by the way--is that the principal's parents saw his generation as degenerate (read Cheaper by the Dozen for the father's reactions to his daughters' bobbed hair, slimmer bathing suits, and panty-hose).
The episode then gets a little preachy as Helen Crump pleads that the teens--who planned the play in the first place--be allowed to express themselves. The speech falls into the "poor teens need to be pandered to during their troubled years!" category (the episode aired in 1966; the musical Grease--the ultimate celebration of teen self-indulgence--came out in 1971).
The speech barely works and only (sort of) because Aneta Corsaut, who plays Helen Crump, is a skilled actress and something of a force of nature.
1920s dance--compare to the mish-mash in the first image.
Here's the problem (and I am speaking as a rock 'n roll fan): the rock 'n roll dance is far less disciplined and exhibits far less talent than the 1920s Charleston. The difference is huge. Although Andy and Howard apparently enjoy the rock 'n roll dance more, it is, frankly, boring while the 1920s production is not.
I'm a huge believer that one judges a thing by what it is--not by what it isn't. In this sense, I agree with Helen. Why shouldn't the teens do something contemporary (to them)?
I also believe that the thing being done should be done as well as its genre and style allow for. Rock 'n roll has produced amazing artists. I consider "You Can't Always Get What You Want" one of the finest artistic productions of the 20th century. And it was produced by people with talent, who worked hard (however stupidly they lived their lives).
Young people may wish to express themselves. That doesn't mean they shouldn't be held to standards of discipline and excellence in the genre/style of choice.
"Beat It" was respected--and still is--for a reason (as one commentator mentions, it's impressive when the lead singer is a better dancer than his "chorus line"--though all these guys are talented).
I absolutely adored A-ha's "Take on Me" MTV video when I was younger.
It is still fairly classic--for one, it's a great song and led me to discover that A-ha is still around--no longer technically together but the band lasted a surprisingly long time and the musicians are still doing musical stuff.
Two, the video has an actual story with an actual arc.
Three, the story--while a product of its time period (Tron meets the ubiquitous cafe of Back to the Future and Terminator plus the undying classical milieu of graphic novels)--is entirely comprehensible without inside knowledge.
In comparison, I also recently watched the unchanging Cyndi Lauper in "Time after Time."
Fantastic song. Amazing artiste. But the video--which is a story--seems entirely dependent on character context, the kind of video about which my friends (back in the day) would have said, "Oh, you've got to watch it over and over to get all the clues about their relationship!" (Keep in mind: these videos were very popular.)
Kind of like watching Meatloaf's videos (and I'm a HUGE Meatloaf fan) where I feel like I need cliff-notes. (Where exactly are they? Is this the same couple from "Dashboard Light"? When did they meet?)
In the 1980s world of story videos, A-ha's video still stands out.
I should mention: at least both these videos tell stories--they're not some artistic rendering of someone's soul (Oh, why don't you get me?), which renderings are supposedly valuable simply because of the artists' reputations.
1980s artists worked really hard to be entertaining.
"How do you know you're in love?" Richard Castle asks Beckett.
"All the songs make sense," she answers.
Unfortunately, in Season 6, Castle and Beckett realize that they don't know if they even "have" a song--the song that couples associate with their courtship. Luckily, by the end of "Teen Spirit," they realize that of course, they do.
In Bones, Brennan and Booth certainly have a song, a song they return to several times: "Hot Blooded" by Foreigner.
Does the song matter? The right composition for the right occasion?
Just ask Titanic fans. Reputedly, the final song played by Titanic's band was "Nearer My God to Thee" (as Cameron's movie definitely promotes). However, Harold Bride--a highly reliable witness--claims the band was playing "Autumn."
This is where things get weird--because there are songs called "Autumn" but there are also "tunes" called "Autumn." That is, in the music world--and I apologize for mangling all the terms--a band leader might say, "Okay, guys, let's play Penguins" and what the band leader means is the underlying score or tune, not necessarily the lyrics.
Does it matter? Of course, it matters! To aficionados and fans, of course.
Like Rilke's "The Panther," Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" has been endlessly "translated." Which is great! If sometimes confusing.
I mention in a previous post that I'm a fan of K.D. Lang's rendering of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah." As a reviewer to the video remarks, K.D. Lang is one of the few singers who seems to comprehend the sense of the song. If hymns can use secular iconography to communicate spiritual ideas (and they do), why can't secular songs use religious iconography to communicate passionate, painful elements of the human experience?
They can.
Consequently, I find the use of "Hallelujah" in religious settings--or weddings--to be bizarre in the extreme, at least those settings (and presumably weddings) where the song is being used as a cheerful message (no dark side). Do people ever listen to lyrics?
I have high expectations for the song (though in all honesty, I enjoy Rufus Wainwright's version on the Shrek soundtrack as a good introduction since it is sincere and unshowy). So when I saw that Colm Wilkinson had included it on his album Broadway and Beyond, I was skeptical.
I am officially impressed. Colm Wilkinson takes the Meatloaf approached--the song is a duet with a female singer. The female singer is not as strong. BUT. The song is interpreted, not merely sung. What is equally impressive is that Wilkinson captures both the argument of a broken heart and the passion of the artist who pleads to God, the muses, for inspiration.
The song requires experience, a past that has undergone the good and the bad and the weird and the everything else. Age and maturity. Colm Wilkinson brings it to the table.
I'm not going to discuss Frozen. Yes, "Let It Go" is a great song. Okay, moving on . . .
Again, I am most impressed by those singers who are actors as well as singers. However, this list includes more "pure" singers. Still, the singers I chose have range and vocal individuality.
I get a huge kick out of Reba McIntire. The South Pacific Concert is one of my favorites. One of the things I like about it is that the singing style--feisty country for Reba and pure baritone opera for Brian Stokes Mitchell--matches the characters' personalities. The music director did a fantastic job "complementing" them. (And Reba is a powerhouse, despite being a "popular" singer.)
No offense to Emma Thompson (who is one of my favorite actors), but Angela Lansbury knocks any musical number out of the park, even if she can't belt quite as strongly as she used to.
I can't mention Angela Lansbury without mentioning another grand lady of the musicals: Julie Andrews. Julie Andrews's musical accomplishments are so effortless, it's a shock to realize she can no longer perform an Angela Lansbury. It's much to her credit that her effortless elegant and poised persona remained intact despite her loss.
In terms of singers who sound like themselves, I enjoy Judi Dench, and she would definitely fit into the first list since singing is not automatically linked to her career.
In addition, I am a huge fan of K.D. Lang's version of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah." In my first draft of this post, I talked more about why. Since hearing Colm Wilkinson's version of "Hallelujah," I've decided the song deserves its own post!
Last but not least, I really love "The Rose" sung by Bette Midler. If a singer can't turn you into a marshmallow inside, what's the point of the singer?
The use of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" to promote religious videos/messages has always puzzled me in the extreme.
Cohen's "Hallelujah" is the mirror image to the Song of Solomon and passages by Old Testament prophets who use romantic images to discuss religious themes. In "Hallelujah," Leonard Cohen uses religious iconography to discuss romantic love. David and Samson are evoked as confused and uncertain lovers who are overwhelmed by their beloveds. The song is about heartbreak (which makes it particularly odd when played at weddings). Specifically, the song is about how heartbreak can echo the pain or disillusionment of spiritual doubt.
Spiritual doubt is evoked to make the point about love, not love to make the point about spiritual doubt.
It is a magnificent song and requires a powerhouse voice to deliver its meaning. K.D. Lang's rendition (see above) defies orientation, speaking as it does to men and women. And it gets the meaning right.
As for context: the song is about romance yet it has been applied to multiple settings from weddings (mentioned above) to Shrek, the Winter Olympics, an episode of Without a Trace, and an episode of Numb3rs, which last uses it entirely appropriately.
The episode from Numb3rs is "Provenance" about the provenance (history) of a painting that was looted by the Nazis. The song plays in the background when the original painting is restored to the Jewish family who went to court to retrieve it; the scene is well-acted by the magnificent Gena Rowlands. The song works because the music itself carries an underscoring of triumph, yet the painting, like the lyrics, represent heartbreak: Gena Rowlands' character lost her entire family to the Holocaust. The music, lyrics, and scene echo the loss of family and race rather than the loss of an intimate relationship, yet, in this case, it works.
The song is meant for popular culture--transcendence within secularism--not religious ceremonies.
MOST RECOGNIZED LYRICS (combination of 1984 and 1988 versions; nearly all versions are cut or combined):
I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this: the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to her kitchen chair
She broke your throne and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
Baby, I've been here before
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
And I've seen your flag on the marble arch
But love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
There was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show that to me, do you?
But remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
Maybe there's a God above
All I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
And it's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Lately, I've been exploring music from my younger years, specifically artists of the 80s and 90s. Not all of them have an enduring sound. One that has, surprisingly enough, is Peter Gabriel.
I was doubly surprised to realize that the still-contemporary artist he reminded me of most is Meatloaf!
Although their sounds are quite different (Meatloaf has a more joyful rock sound), both Meatloaf' and Gabriel are narrative lyricists. I didn't remember that about Gabriel from my youth (despite the fact, that I remembered many of his songs and those I forgot, I forgot in exactly the same way as before!). Yet every song on So and Us has a story and a theme. Like Meatloaf, Gabriel isn't afraid of stating emphatically what a song is, in fact, about.
Unsurprisingly, Gabriel has contributed to/created soundtracks, including for The Last Temptation of Christ. In this sense, he is also remarkably similar to Meatloaf who moves without self-consciousness between movies, television, and rock (Bowie did too, but he always seemed so much more self-conscious).
Also, like Meatloaf, Gabriel readily employs choruses and female soloists on his albums. Both musicians are romantics (see above video of "Don't Give Up").
Of Gabriel's 80s/90s albums, I greatly prefer Us. "Washing of the Water" (what I call "River") is one of my all-time favorites, but the song with the best "story" is the satiric "Kiss That Frog"--it's also a great retelling of a fairy tale (like the massively misread "Hallelujah" by Leonard Cohen, "Kiss That Frog" is full of sexual innuendo; Gabriel's "tribute" is more in line with the original tale than later cleaned-up versions):
Sweet little princess, let me introduce his frogness
You alone can get him singing,
He's all puffed up, want to be your king
Oh you can do it, c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon
Lady kiss that frog
Splash, dash, heard your call,
Bring you back your golden ball
He's gonna dive down in the deep end
He's gonna be just like your best friend
So what's one little kiss, one tiny little touch?
Aah, he's wanting it so much
I swear that this is royal blood, running through my skin
Oh, can you see the state I'm in
Kiss it better, kiss it better
Get it into your head
He's living with you he sleeps in your bed
Can't you hear beyond the croaking
Don't you know that I'm not joking
Aah, you think you won't, I think you will
Don't you know that this tongue can kill
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon
Lady kiss that frog
Let him sit beside you, eat right off your plate
You don't have to be afraid, there's nothing here to hate
Princess, you might like it, if you lowered your defense
Kiss that frog, and you will get your prince...
Jump in the water, c'mon baby jump in with me
Jump in the water, c'mon baby get wet, get wet, get wet
Kiss that frog, lady kiss that frog
Get wet, get wet
A few years ago, a summer game show ran that focused on the fact that people don't know the lyrics to songs--but think they do. The hilarity circled around HOW people messed up the lyrics, like singing "Comea comea comea Charming a long" rather than "Karma karma karma karma karma chameleon."
Regarding the classic Meatloaf song, "I Would Do Anything for Love," I was convinced for years that the female vocalist's lyrics included the phrase, "Will you (Can you) cauterize my life? I'm so sick of black & white."
Let me be clear: My lyrics make NO sense!
Especially when one considers the line that follows.
The real line, of course, is, "Will you (Can you) colorize my life? I'm so sick of black & white," which naturally makes a billion times more sense.
But I quite like "cauterize." One cauterizes a wound to stop bleeding and prevent infection. As an idiom, "cauterize" often refers to ending (wiping out) one part of life and moving on to another. I thought it fit perfectly into what the female vocalist is requesting--Will you take me away from my current life? Will you help me change?
I am currently working on Book 3 of my fantasy trilogy, the Roesia Chronicles; since this is the first time I've written a trilogy, I assigned a song from Bon Jovi's album Have a Nice Dayto each novella to help me keep the themes of each distinct.
Bon Jovi was hugely popular when I was a teen. I wasn't much of a fan (if I remember correctly, I was listening to A-Ha , Elvis Costello, and Billy Joel while listening to my siblings play Pink Floyd, Queen, Neil Diamond plus Bruce Springsteen and to my friends play The Pogues and Duran Duran).
In the middle of all this, Bon Jovi produced the song "Wanted Dead or Alive" which led, circuitously, to him creating the soundtrack for Young Guns II and making a cameo appearance in the movie. THAT led to Bon Jovi doing an interview on the radio, which I heard. Bon Jovi was so adorably, well, dorky (I admire dorkiness) and self-effacing during the interview, I decided I liked him.
Approximately 15 years later, I saw him on American Idol looking adorably bemused ("Why am I doing this?") and decided I still liked him.
So who I am now?
Who do you want me to be be?
I can forgive you but I won't re-live you
I ain't the same scared kid I used to be
I'm gonna live, I'm gonna survive
I don't want the world to pass me by
I'm gonna dream, I ain't gonna die
Thinking my life was just a lie
I wanna be loved
I wanna be loved
You're caught between just who you are and who you want to be
If you feel alone and lost and need a friend
Remember every new beginning is some beginning's end
Welcome to where you are
This is your life; you made it this far
Welcome, you got to believe
That right here, right now
You're exactly where you're supposed to be
Welcome to wherever you are.
To put it in Buckaroo Banzai's terms: No matter where you go, there you are.
Take a look around you; nothing's what it seems
We're living in the broken home of hopes and dreams
Let me be the first to shake a helping hand
Anybody brave enough to take a stand
I've knocked on every door on every dead-end street
Looking for forgiveness and what's left to believe
When the world gets in my face, I say
Much of my enjoyment of Law & Order: Criminal Intent is stifled due to the horrible, horrible music editing in Seasons 2-6 (I haven't yet seen beyond 6).
Somewhere around the 2/3rds mark in every episode, "suspenseful" music will begin. It takes the form of thumping cords, not quite as irritating as the sound a truck makes when it backs up but close. It is supposed to indicate mystery and trepidation. The thumping cords will build in intensity and then end whether the mystery is paid off or not. Although this use of music is classic/even cliche, the actual cords on the show sound less classic and more like something an amateur musician would create on a keyboard.
And it never varies. It is always the same. In every episode (season 6 does at least begin its episodes with decent music/lyrics). 2/3rds of the way in: thumping music. It drowns out the dialog. It makes nonsense of the plot. It is wholly annoying.
And it's weird. Unlike Law & Order: SVU, the scripts of Criminal Intent are generally well-written (the scripts of Law & Order: SVU reach a whole new level of random, disorganized badness on television); Criminal Intent has also gotten some fairly stellar guest stars (all those aging Britishers who are looking for extra work).
Does a good music editor really cost so much in comparison?
Possibly. Music editing may be one of those professions that seems easy on the outside but is actually quite difficult. I remember once listening to a guy who was trying to persuade me that rock stars aren't all that talented. "Look what I can do on my keyboard!" he said and started to play.
After a few minutes, my thought was "Wow, I guess rock stars have more talent than I supposed."
(And yes, I do keep watching Law & Order: CI. If I actually had musical talent, not just an ear for what I like and don't like, the editing might bother me to the point of self-censorship. But ultimately, for me, plot is everything.)
Basically, when it comes to music, I listen to soundtracks and ballads. Lately, I've been listening mostly to ballads. This means, I've been listening mostly to Meatloaf.
But I kind of listen to Meatloaf to death. So I looked around and said, "So . . . what next?"
You'll never guess . . .
NEIL DIAMOND!
Yup, I picked up the 2 CDs of his live concert in NYC: Hot August Night. I must say, it is a hoot and a holler and a half. First of all, it's neat to recognize so many songs from my childhood (and to go, "But I thought that was John Denver?") Second, it may be pop, and it may be light pop, etc. etc. etc., but BOY, is it fun.
Of the two CDs, I like the second most. It not only has "America" (the song I bought the set for), "Cracklin' Rose," "Hell Yeah," and "If You Know What I Mean," it has "Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show" which is way up there with Meatloaf in terms of rip-roaring/feel good/good time/stomping away music.
In any case, I know I'm getting old because I can't listen to Top 40 pop music anymore, and I'm a tasteless pop music aficionado! But that could just be the choices on the stations around where I live and drive.
For oodles of nostalgia and sing-alongs (and a good way to wake up before an 8 a.m. class) check out Neil Diamond!
