Still playing around and learning how to use this stuff, but this should be good news for listeners of my podcast too.
It is a measure of the vileness of much spam that when I get one entitled "Increase your business," I'm not sure whether I'm being offered a direct-marketing service or penis enlargement.
It's been such a hell of a long time since I've received any hate mail, I almost forgot what it was like. Thank God that hole in my life is plugged again, though I was more than a little surprised that the precipitating incident was, apparently, my mild slagging-off of the film The Last Starfighter in the course of my nearly-three-year-old review of the stage-musical version of same. I said:
Even to its ardent defenders, the movie version of The Last Starfighter has always played like a low-rent version of Star Wars, with a thinner, more maudlin story, inferior special effects and a production design no more convincing than the original Star Trek's. The genius of this new adaptation lies in its recognition that these apparent weaknesses are really strengths when translated to the musical stage.My estimable correspondent said:
Re: Your review of The Last Starfighter, musical and film versions. I loved the movie. I have it on DVD. I consider it one of my favorite inspirational films. The effects are ground breaking in this, the first film to rely completely on CGI. If you told me the sky was blue, I'd check first. Screw you, Mary.Goodness. That's the last time I speak out of turn about the film's ardent defenders. And I won't breathe a word about Tron.
The Bad Plus are masters of intricate time signatures, with an interplay that seems (clich´ though it is to say) telepathic. Ethan Iverson on piano hardly breaks a sweat, indeed hardly moves, as his two hands blur off in opposite directions performing contrary tasks and pounding out dangerous decibels, only to jump up from his seat just when you think he's too cool for school. Reed Anderson anchors things in the middle with a fat, woody bass sound that gives the music a fulcrum even as it hares off in unexpected directions. But the real show is drummer David King, who looks improbably awkward holding a pair of sticks but still manages to emulate the world's craziest clock mechanism, holding the beat in his teeth while it seems to explode with a flurry of jabs and kicks in every impossible directions, maybe even at right angles to spacetime itself. Laura said, "I've never understood before this how drums could be a voice of their own."
The band was excruciatingly tight, nowhere moreso than on their cover of the Ornette Coleman/Pat Metheny freakout "Song X," with its nervewracking periods of long silence. The originals were idiosyncratic and strongand it was nice to be able to match each of the three players with his compositions in personand the rock covers, including "Life on Mars?" and "Everybody Wants to Rule the World," turned the source material inside out to expose the pulsing life inside to the light. (Was that sweat they wiped off their faces, or was it blood?) One of two enthusiastically received encore numbers was Neil Young's "Heart of Gold." You could have heard a pin drop as the players took their hands off their instruments and sang the chorus in sweetly hushed three-part harmony. A startlement on top of a surprise wrapped in citrus rind.
The Bad Plus are justly famed for their cover of "Smells Like Teen Spirit," and while I'm sure many in the audience were hoping to hear it, my only mild disappointment was that they didn't play their version of "Tom Sawyer," from their new album Prog. But maybe that's for the best. Having heard Rush play it two weeks earlier, and with the harmonic disturbances still lingering in the ether, The Bad Plus adding their take might have set up sympathetic vibrations of awesome that would have melted Chicago to a plain of bratwurst-colored glass. We should simply give thanks for the miracles we did witness, and lived to tell.
Looks good in the light...
...looks even better in the dark!
That's a terabyte and a quarter! Right there on my desk!
You know, Neil Diamond's "Love on the Rocks" is ripe for a good, over-the-top-but-unabashedly-sincere heavy metal remake.
Laura and I concluded this as we were singing along. At the tops of our lungs.
I'll send you a free copy of the mix if you're the first to identify the provenance of the hand drawings in the album art.
Laura and I were walking Ella the other evening when we ran across a sign indicating a historical landmark. I suppose we hadn't noticed it before because we usually walk Ella down the grassy greenway on the other side of the boulevard's frontage road, not down the sidewalk.
In any event, what we learned is that L. Frank Baum is our neighbor. He lived three blocks from us in 1899 when he wrote The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
One hopes there's still something in the air.
|You Scored an A|
It's pretty obvious that you don't make basic grammatical errors.