I was sitting in traffic on Lawrence Avenue in the Uptown neighborhood when I saw a little girl, probably about ten years old, trip on the sidewalk and tumble into a concrete barrier. It wasn't tall -- maybe two feet -- so it was obvious she wasn't badly hurt, but she might have skinned or sprained her hand trying to catch her balance.
My first thought, as a complete stranger passing by in a car, was along the lines of, "Oh, that poor baby." And the first impulse of the woman with her, who I assume was her mother? Although I couldn't hear the words, I could tell the mother was scolding and berating the little girl, not only by her facial expression, but because she grabbed the girl by the shoulders and started shaking her.
I know that kids can try your patience and that the job of parenting is very difficult at times. Still, I can't comprehend how a parent's first impulse when her child is hurt would be to punish the child rather than to comfort her. Imagine how that little girl felt. Isn't it embarrassing enough to take a tumble on a public sidewalk without being treated like that? I feel helpless in those situations too, because I feel awful for the child but don't feel like I can really do anything about it. It didn't seem like the mother was hurting the girl, just humiliating her -- which to me is just about as bad, but not a "crime."
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
Just say no
Look, I know part of this is due to the natural effects of aging, but I think Keith Richards is a walking testament to the virtues of not using drugs.
See?
This used to be an attractive man.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
I love you, but not as much as that Twilight guy
Because of the latest snowpocalypse I decided to take public transit to work today. On the second leg of the trip (a lovely "express" bus to Hyde Park) there was a couple sitting directly across from me engaging in some PDA. They both seemingly worked at the Museum of Science and Industry (because it's a great idea to date people at work), where they got off the bus sporting their work IDs. I noticed the girl had a picture of a guy tucked into the back side of the plastic cover of her ID. It wasn't her boyfriend, though; it was Robert Pattinson.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Albums in the era of downloads
Last week on Sound Opinions, the Chicago-based rock ’n’ roll radio talk show, hosts Greg Kot and Jim DeRogatis were talking about the big music events of the last decade. Jim affirmed my stance that, while there was a lot of innovation in how music is delivered and listened to, there weren’t any major innovations in music-making itself in the ’00s or any specific genre that defined the decade. On the one hand, I was glad to hear someone else say this (because it makes me feel like less of an old crank going around saying “Nothing new has happened since the Dust Brothers”) but at the same time, it’s dispiriting. Jim and Greg seemed optimistic that something new would happen, but I’m not so sure.
Jim posited that in the age of downloading music, album covers and liner notes are almost a thing of the past, that no one is interested in them anymore. In the case of liner notes, I’d argue that the general public was not terribly interested in them in the first place; it was just the hardcore music geeks, who can still find all the same information (lyrics, producers, songwriters, musicians, recording locations, etc.) online if they are so inclined. The end of cover art, however, is something that makes me sentimental. I think it’s an inevitable but sad side effect of downloading music.
I just finished reading David Byrne’s new book, Bicycle Diaries, and funnily enough there’s a passage where he talks about that issue. He rightly points out that albums and album cover art were never wed to one another; records existed before album cover art did. The covers themselves were created as a practical matter to protect the fragile vinyl records, and the artwork followed later. I’m not sure of the source for this, but Byrne says that a classical record that sported the first album cover art sold many, many more copies than other records, hence the decision to start putting art on all album covers as a marketing tool.
This got me wondering when album covers came into being. God bless the Internet, because I actually found the answer on Wikipedia. In 1938, Columbia Records hired a graphic designer, Alex Steinweiss, who is now widely credited as the inventor of album cover art. Steinweiss is still alive and many of his album covers can be viewed online, so check them out if you have a chance. (Wikipedia also provides interesting background info on how records came to be called "albums" – which has to do with storage solutions, of all things.) Those links provide a nice little history lesson if you’re a music fan or interested in graphic design.
It could be argued that not only album covers but albums themselves are becoming less relevant in the era of downloads. Don’t most people download a song or two by an artist they like, not an entire album? As much as I love albums, I’m pretty happy that downloading has helped us reclaim the single, since record labels in America phased out CD singles quite awhile ago. There might not be a picture sleeve or a B-side anymore, but the single lives on, and usually it’s 99 cents – cheaper than the vinyl ones I bought as a teenager.
Jim posited that in the age of downloading music, album covers and liner notes are almost a thing of the past, that no one is interested in them anymore. In the case of liner notes, I’d argue that the general public was not terribly interested in them in the first place; it was just the hardcore music geeks, who can still find all the same information (lyrics, producers, songwriters, musicians, recording locations, etc.) online if they are so inclined. The end of cover art, however, is something that makes me sentimental. I think it’s an inevitable but sad side effect of downloading music.
I just finished reading David Byrne’s new book, Bicycle Diaries, and funnily enough there’s a passage where he talks about that issue. He rightly points out that albums and album cover art were never wed to one another; records existed before album cover art did. The covers themselves were created as a practical matter to protect the fragile vinyl records, and the artwork followed later. I’m not sure of the source for this, but Byrne says that a classical record that sported the first album cover art sold many, many more copies than other records, hence the decision to start putting art on all album covers as a marketing tool.
This got me wondering when album covers came into being. God bless the Internet, because I actually found the answer on Wikipedia. In 1938, Columbia Records hired a graphic designer, Alex Steinweiss, who is now widely credited as the inventor of album cover art. Steinweiss is still alive and many of his album covers can be viewed online, so check them out if you have a chance. (Wikipedia also provides interesting background info on how records came to be called "albums" – which has to do with storage solutions, of all things.) Those links provide a nice little history lesson if you’re a music fan or interested in graphic design.
It could be argued that not only album covers but albums themselves are becoming less relevant in the era of downloads. Don’t most people download a song or two by an artist they like, not an entire album? As much as I love albums, I’m pretty happy that downloading has helped us reclaim the single, since record labels in America phased out CD singles quite awhile ago. There might not be a picture sleeve or a B-side anymore, but the single lives on, and usually it’s 99 cents – cheaper than the vinyl ones I bought as a teenager.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Thoughts on Nine
Yesterday I went to see Nine at my favorite theater in Chicago, the Davis. The place is kind of a dump, but I mean that in the kindest way. It’s clean and it offers first-run movies at a good price. It’s just kind of rundown, some of the screens are oddly small and high, and there is what I want to believe is authentic 1970s KISS graffiti in two stalls of the women’s room, which is otherwise straight out of WWII. It is probably not suitable for snobs who are concerned about Dolby sound and such things, but to those of us who know what really matters (such as the fact that its kiddie pack contains the perfect salt/sweet/soda ratio for just $3.75), the Davis is glorious. I hope they never change the cheesy pre-film footage welcoming patrons to the theater, which seems to have been made a decade ago. My favorite part is the reminder to shut off your cell phone, represented by a cartoon phone that looks absolutely gigantic and has an antenna.
As much as I love DVDs and being able to watch movies online, nothing beats going to the movies. It’s just a shame that so many people don’t obey basic movie-going etiquette. Unfortunately, I had an older couple behind me who were talkers. They made asinine observations, such as, when Kate Hudson was onscreen, “That’s Goldie Hawn’s daughter.” I almost lost it when, a good thirty minutes into the picture, during Nicole Kidman’s third or fourth appearance, one of them exclaimed, “I didn’t know she was in this!” There were a couple of talkers in the back, too, and the woman in front of me gave them the crane-necked stink-eye a couple of times. Oddly enough, she followed up one of her crane-necked stink-eyes by getting out her cell phone to look at the time – the old pot vs. kettle, I suppose.
As for Nine… well, let’s just say the title doesn’t reflect the rating I’d give it. I really like Roger Ebert and I have to say that his review, which I read after seeing the film, hits the nail on the head when he says, “Nine is just plain adrift in its own lack of necessity.” Every good idea in it is lifted straight from Fellini, so essentially it’s a musical remake of 8 1/2 rather than a comment or meditation on it. Although I liked some of the performances (Penelope Cruz, Marion Cotillard, and Judi Dench), everyone was just mimicking the characterizations in the original film. It was just a plain weird idea.
Another thing struck me about it that I’ve been giving some thought to lately: the casting of “movie stars” rather than musical theater performers. A few weeks ago, I was thinking about the musical Chicago for some reason and ended up watching some clips online. I watched Ann Reinking and Bebe Neuwith in the 1990s revival and Gwen Verdon and Chita Rivera from the original cast, who were all fantastic. I enjoyed the film version when it came out but hadn’t seen it since then, so I looked up a few clips. Watching the stage performers and the movie actors in succession made me realize just how mediocre the film is. Zeta-Jones, Zellweger et al. did just fine, but why is it alright to star in a major motion picture musical and be just fine – not to mention that the choreography is watered down to an amateur level and a lot of the shots are arranged specifically to hide deficiencies in the dancing. Shouldn’t we expect more?
It was the same with Nine, where the performers did a decent job, but nothing more (although even if they’d really delivered, they were working with material vastly inferior to Chicago). Fergie’s number made me think of Liza Minnelli’s scene doing “Mein Herr” in Cabaret, but only because the dance involved chairs. The thing is, the dancers didn’t actually do much with the chairs; I think they were there as a visual cue to bring to mind Bob Fosse’s choreography and the cinematography and Liza’s performance without actually striving to reach the quality of it.
Although there is a rich history of truly brilliant singers and dancers on film, I know that many a time Hollywood has cast non-musical performers in musicals (Audrey Hepburn and Natalie Wood were even dubbed). And so it continues: The celebrities are cast while there are thousands of talented singers and dancers striving for a break. I understand the reasoning behind it, and in some cases I appreciate the virtues of the “names” (I mean, even if he can’t particularly sing or dance, Daniel Day-Lewis is unimpeachable as an actor). It still depresses me a bit, though. And as for Kate Hudson, why is she even a “name” at this point? She was charming in Almost Famous but that was a decade ago and she has done absolutely nothing of quality since. She is Goldie Hawn’s daughter, though!
As much as I love DVDs and being able to watch movies online, nothing beats going to the movies. It’s just a shame that so many people don’t obey basic movie-going etiquette. Unfortunately, I had an older couple behind me who were talkers. They made asinine observations, such as, when Kate Hudson was onscreen, “That’s Goldie Hawn’s daughter.” I almost lost it when, a good thirty minutes into the picture, during Nicole Kidman’s third or fourth appearance, one of them exclaimed, “I didn’t know she was in this!” There were a couple of talkers in the back, too, and the woman in front of me gave them the crane-necked stink-eye a couple of times. Oddly enough, she followed up one of her crane-necked stink-eyes by getting out her cell phone to look at the time – the old pot vs. kettle, I suppose.
As for Nine… well, let’s just say the title doesn’t reflect the rating I’d give it. I really like Roger Ebert and I have to say that his review, which I read after seeing the film, hits the nail on the head when he says, “Nine is just plain adrift in its own lack of necessity.” Every good idea in it is lifted straight from Fellini, so essentially it’s a musical remake of 8 1/2 rather than a comment or meditation on it. Although I liked some of the performances (Penelope Cruz, Marion Cotillard, and Judi Dench), everyone was just mimicking the characterizations in the original film. It was just a plain weird idea.
Another thing struck me about it that I’ve been giving some thought to lately: the casting of “movie stars” rather than musical theater performers. A few weeks ago, I was thinking about the musical Chicago for some reason and ended up watching some clips online. I watched Ann Reinking and Bebe Neuwith in the 1990s revival and Gwen Verdon and Chita Rivera from the original cast, who were all fantastic. I enjoyed the film version when it came out but hadn’t seen it since then, so I looked up a few clips. Watching the stage performers and the movie actors in succession made me realize just how mediocre the film is. Zeta-Jones, Zellweger et al. did just fine, but why is it alright to star in a major motion picture musical and be just fine – not to mention that the choreography is watered down to an amateur level and a lot of the shots are arranged specifically to hide deficiencies in the dancing. Shouldn’t we expect more?
It was the same with Nine, where the performers did a decent job, but nothing more (although even if they’d really delivered, they were working with material vastly inferior to Chicago). Fergie’s number made me think of Liza Minnelli’s scene doing “Mein Herr” in Cabaret, but only because the dance involved chairs. The thing is, the dancers didn’t actually do much with the chairs; I think they were there as a visual cue to bring to mind Bob Fosse’s choreography and the cinematography and Liza’s performance without actually striving to reach the quality of it.
Although there is a rich history of truly brilliant singers and dancers on film, I know that many a time Hollywood has cast non-musical performers in musicals (Audrey Hepburn and Natalie Wood were even dubbed). And so it continues: The celebrities are cast while there are thousands of talented singers and dancers striving for a break. I understand the reasoning behind it, and in some cases I appreciate the virtues of the “names” (I mean, even if he can’t particularly sing or dance, Daniel Day-Lewis is unimpeachable as an actor). It still depresses me a bit, though. And as for Kate Hudson, why is she even a “name” at this point? She was charming in Almost Famous but that was a decade ago and she has done absolutely nothing of quality since. She is Goldie Hawn’s daughter, though!
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Wait'll you see my fridget
Was watching the old Gidget TV show with Sally Field when I spotted the most gorgeous refrigerator ever in Gidget's kitchen. Not the '50s teal/turquoise you so often see, but more of a powder/baby blue. Love it!
Boys on Film
I am making a declaration that I will update my blog at least once per week. Send the militia after me if I don’t stick to it.
Other than being caught up in the usual holiday stuff that most of us are preoccupied with this time of year and fretting about the condo on which I put an offer nearly seven months ago, I’ve been doing a bit of pop culture archeology lately. Yesterday I finished reading Wild Boy: My Life in Duran Duran by the former guitarist Andy Taylor. He’s widely known among Durannies as the least interesting one (and/or the least attractive one) but having been obsessed with them in my tween years, I figured it was worth a read. The book itself is not that great. He doesn’t talk much about writing and recording the music, which I love hearing about, he’s pretty diplomatic toward the other members of the band, and he claims they didn’t really fool around with groupies, which… I call bullshit.
However, the one major pleasure I’ve gotten out of this book is digging a bit deeper into the early history of the band, which is much easier now, in the era of the Internet. I always knew that Stephen Duffy, Simon Colley, and Andy Wickett were members before the lineup that landed a record deal. Duffy went on to become sort of a cult figure, mainly for his work as the singer of the Lilac Time. After having a couple of minor pop hits in the early ’80s, he went in more of a singer-songwriter direction, and he’s actually really good.
Wickett was in a band called TV Eye at the time Duffy and Colley were in Duran Duran. When TV Eye broke up, Duffy and Colley left Duran and formed Subterranean Hawks with former TV Eye members, while Wickett joined Duran. So, they basically traded members. I had never heard about Subterranean Hawks, but lo and behold, there is actually a clip of one of their songs, “Big Store,” online. Duffy and Nick Rhodes from Duran recorded a new version of “Big Store” a few years ago when they got together for a project attributed to Devils. The album featured new versions of some of those pre-fame Duran songs – a very good album, actually (much better than any Duran stuff has been for years).
Andy Wickett apparently wrote an early version of “Girls on Film” and a song that was the basis of “Rio.” He now performs in drag as Candy Wicked and did an updated, kind of industrial, version of “Girls on Film” a few years ago. Not really my cup of tea, but interesting all the same.
I love this stuff, because I’m really interested in the process of making music: how the different lineups click, who writes what, which songs are recycled and updated after lineup changes, how the production changes the song, who “makes it” and who is forgotten, etc. I find it really fascinating.
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