- The little glances John Krasinski gives the camera -- and the way they made fun of it
- "Could Oscar and Angela be having a gay affair?"
- The subtle storytelling on the Jim-Pam storyline
- The way all the secondary cast can wring so much humor out of a 5-second confessional or a quick facial reaction
- The way Jenna Fischer can be so silly and then elicit so much sympathy when she goes through one of the horrendous moments that are constantly popping up around her
This is the best freaking show on television.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Me 1, cricket 0
At this time of year in NoVa, the crickets get aggressive in their desire to share your space, hopping through any open door at any time, hot on your heels.
Ours are surprisingly brazen. They don't just hang out in the shadows. We're not swarmed with them or anything, but a couple of times a week, one decides to announce his presence.
So tonight, as I was prepping to head to the basement, I turned around and saw one between me and the stairs. I swear it was staring at me, like an Old West gunslinger. Or possibly the Road Runner.
I put my hands in my shoes for controlled swatting, then creeped closer. I lifted my hand and made my move.
Hop ... hop ... "is that all you got?" the cricket seemed to be asking. He had chosen his escape route well, landing just under the sofa. He stayed there, as if to taunt me further, like John Cleese's Frenchman in Holy Grail.
But the cricket didn't know the room very well. He certainly didn't know that the sofa has felt under each leg, and that means it slides smoothly on hardwood. I got my hand-shoe ready, crouched, and put my head against the arm of the sofa. One slow and steady push, then a quick smack.
Of course, I made quick work out of tossing the hubris victim out the door. Didn't want any more to come in.
Ours are surprisingly brazen. They don't just hang out in the shadows. We're not swarmed with them or anything, but a couple of times a week, one decides to announce his presence.
So tonight, as I was prepping to head to the basement, I turned around and saw one between me and the stairs. I swear it was staring at me, like an Old West gunslinger. Or possibly the Road Runner.
I put my hands in my shoes for controlled swatting, then creeped closer. I lifted my hand and made my move.
Hop ... hop ... "is that all you got?" the cricket seemed to be asking. He had chosen his escape route well, landing just under the sofa. He stayed there, as if to taunt me further, like John Cleese's Frenchman in Holy Grail.
But the cricket didn't know the room very well. He certainly didn't know that the sofa has felt under each leg, and that means it slides smoothly on hardwood. I got my hand-shoe ready, crouched, and put my head against the arm of the sofa. One slow and steady push, then a quick smack.
Of course, I made quick work out of tossing the hubris victim out the door. Didn't want any more to come in.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Great moments in deconstructing music
From Wikipedia's entry on Coldplay's Fix You:
Didn't realize "fix" would be so literal.
"Tears stream down your face when you lose something you cannot replace," indeed.
Some sources claim that this song was written for Gwyneth Paltrow by her husband Chris Martin due to the depression she suffered after the death of her father Bruce Paltrow. Other sources say that the song was written about the time Chris' dog had to go to the vet.
Didn't realize "fix" would be so literal.
"Tears stream down your face when you lose something you cannot replace," indeed.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Review: Guster, Ganging Up on the Sun
One reason Guster is such an important band is that they can be positive without being trite. They don't offer simple solutions, just a dose of empathy, a kick in the seat to get you going and a barrage of bongos and congas to emphasize the point.
Like Indigo Girls before them, they've grown more sophisticated over the years, both musically and lyrically. (Quick aside to Rhapsody: Indigo Girls is a much, much better "similar artist" for Guster than what you have listed. Matchbox 20? Are you kidding? This is music for smart college kids and those of us who used to be smart college kids, not teenage girls smitten with Rob Thomas.)
That growth can be dangerous, as Indigo Girls discovered. After spending the '90s mastering a terrific fusion of folk-rock and prog-rock, they turned a little too country for my tastes, and the lyrics were too straightforward and strident. (That said,
Tether is a terrific, uplifting anthem that builds to some guitar work that qualifies as both searing and soaring.)
Guster skirts on the edge in Ganging Up on the Sun. If you glance at the lyric sheet, you might think they've joined the rest of their genre in self-pity and hopelessness. On Empire State, in which Ryan Miller broods over some barely audible accompaniment, they do. And Hang On, the last song in the running order, dips a little too close to cliche, as you can guess from the title.
Thankfully, those are the worst two songs on the album. On the rest, they tackle their topics with a mix of poignant metaphor and gallows humor, set against a backdrop of shifting musical styles that offers plenty of changeups. As with the predecessor Keep It Together, it's hard to hear some of the songs and not think "9/11" or possibly "global warming" or just, in the second line of Manifest Destiny, "how did everything get so fucked up?" But they generally leave just enough ambiguity that the words can be addressed to a politician, a friend, a significant other or anyone.
Manifest Destiny is the most accessible track, not just because of that ear-grabbing f-bomb in the second line. I've seen a review referring to this one as Beatlesque, but I'll be more specific -- it's straight from the Paul McCartney songbook in musical style, with a cabaret-style piano. Lyrically, it's a nice tale of escape, harkening back several albums to, appropriately enough, Great Escape. ("You and I could split this scene / Build a town and then secede / like an Adam and an Eve")
In the same vein is the album's other playful song, The Captain, which reminds me of the great scene in the BBC adaptation of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in which Ford and Zaphod, thinking they're doomed, are singing the Betelgeuse Death Anthem. (To my astonishment, I found that most references to this song online are indeed "Betelgeuse Death Anthem" -- I can't believe I remembered the name.) "Marching forward with no doubt in his head / Onward," chants Ryan and company over a banjo and country backbeat, as if we're going to have a righteous hoedown while the "captain" leads us wherever -- maybe oblivion, but let's just keep on dancing.
One Man Wrecking Machine is a good choice as the album's first single (and video) because it has a catchy chorus that burns itself into your head without that grating sensation of most pop songs. It's a sort of twist on the Guster classic What You Wish For, with the final chorus slightly more positive than the last. The first two verses are a wish to go back and re-script high school, maybe to get on a firmer footing after that. By the end, we've realized that's a useless wish.
At first glance, I thought the lyrics were a little too close to sheer self-pity. But on a couple of listens, it sounds more like a common Guster theme -- feeling your pain while encouraging you to do something other than wallowing in it. Sure, we all dream of going back to high school and being smarter, more popular, more athletic, etc. But if you could build a time machine, what would you solve? What difference would it make?
There are a couple of louder, uptempo songs. C'mon is a more overt sequel to Great Escape, perhaps too much of a repeat for my tastes. The New Underground is along the lines of the great Smashing Pumpkins genre-bashing Cherub Rock ... IF it's about the music industry, which can't be assumed.
And there are a couple of more subdued, minor-key songs. Lightning Rod is another one of those post-9/11, pre-ice cap melting songs that sound vaguely ominous, but Ryan manages to convey a sense of resilience which, again, a lesser band wouldn't manage. Satellite is faster, borrowing the mood and maybe a hook or two from The Church's Reptile (Yes, I felt vindicated in thinking this when the Gusterography site quoted Brian Rosenworcel's description: "It's more of a Fleetwood Mac meets The Church kind of thing"). I like the song but don't know quite what to make of the lyrics, and I'm not alone.
That leads us to the centerpiece of this album -- the epic (running time: 7:06)Ruby Falls. It's an unusual Guster song for so many reasons. First, it covers a lot of musical territory -- almost a '70s feel at times, then some shrieking guitar, then a long, shimmering fadeout punctuated by a trumpet solo, so indispensible in the arrangement that Adam Gardner seems to have learned the trumpet just so he could play it live. Second, the chord changes are just crazy -- a tab I read lists the verse as F, Dm, A (no, not Am!), Bb, F, Eb, Bb, then the chorus is Dm, Emsus4 (OH, I love this chord in this chorus), Bb, F.
Third, the lyrics -- Rosenworcel's -- could refer to almost anything you like. A broken relationship? Again, the state of the world? Getting lost in the woods, looking for a waterfall? Here's Ryan in an engaging interview: "The song probably means something totally different to (Brian) than it does to me, and I’m the one singing it."
It's just brilliant. The only band I can name that could've written and recorded something like this is Yes, and Steve Howe and Rick Wakeman would've tacked on some 800-note solos to stretch it to 20 minutes. The only showy bits in this song are some thunderous fills from Rosenworcel, perhaps proving the former hand-drum king can also find his way around a kit. (Or maybe he actually did it all on hand drums just to fool you -- there are a handful of songs that sound like a kit on first listen but probably aren't, and he spent a lot of time in the bongos-and-congas area when I saw them live a few weeks ago.)
I've seen some valid criticism of this album, and I can imagine some others. There's nothing as catchy and fun as some of the early Guster works, and some people miss the old sound. Rebuttal: Within the confines of the old two-guitars-and-hand-drums sound, they probably could never top Lost and Gone Forever, and you can rest assured they'll be playing those songs live until Brian's hands can no longer take it. Today's Guster can bounce around through several musical styles and still have it sound like Guster. That's the sign of a mature band.
Yet I'll agree with this reviewer that we don't hear enough of Adam's vocals, and that Ryan's voice wears thin as you hit the seventh or eighth song. Guster built itself up with two good singers, not one great one, and they made it work. It strikes me a mistake to drop to one at this point.
I generally don't do "star" rankings. I'll summarize this way:
Like Indigo Girls before them, they've grown more sophisticated over the years, both musically and lyrically. (Quick aside to Rhapsody: Indigo Girls is a much, much better "similar artist" for Guster than what you have listed. Matchbox 20? Are you kidding? This is music for smart college kids and those of us who used to be smart college kids, not teenage girls smitten with Rob Thomas.)
That growth can be dangerous, as Indigo Girls discovered. After spending the '90s mastering a terrific fusion of folk-rock and prog-rock, they turned a little too country for my tastes, and the lyrics were too straightforward and strident. (That said,
Tether is a terrific, uplifting anthem that builds to some guitar work that qualifies as both searing and soaring.)Guster skirts on the edge in Ganging Up on the Sun. If you glance at the lyric sheet, you might think they've joined the rest of their genre in self-pity and hopelessness. On Empire State, in which Ryan Miller broods over some barely audible accompaniment, they do. And Hang On, the last song in the running order, dips a little too close to cliche, as you can guess from the title.
Thankfully, those are the worst two songs on the album. On the rest, they tackle their topics with a mix of poignant metaphor and gallows humor, set against a backdrop of shifting musical styles that offers plenty of changeups. As with the predecessor Keep It Together, it's hard to hear some of the songs and not think "9/11" or possibly "global warming" or just, in the second line of Manifest Destiny, "how did everything get so fucked up?" But they generally leave just enough ambiguity that the words can be addressed to a politician, a friend, a significant other or anyone.
Manifest Destiny is the most accessible track, not just because of that ear-grabbing f-bomb in the second line. I've seen a review referring to this one as Beatlesque, but I'll be more specific -- it's straight from the Paul McCartney songbook in musical style, with a cabaret-style piano. Lyrically, it's a nice tale of escape, harkening back several albums to, appropriately enough, Great Escape. ("You and I could split this scene / Build a town and then secede / like an Adam and an Eve")
In the same vein is the album's other playful song, The Captain, which reminds me of the great scene in the BBC adaptation of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in which Ford and Zaphod, thinking they're doomed, are singing the Betelgeuse Death Anthem. (To my astonishment, I found that most references to this song online are indeed "Betelgeuse Death Anthem" -- I can't believe I remembered the name.) "Marching forward with no doubt in his head / Onward," chants Ryan and company over a banjo and country backbeat, as if we're going to have a righteous hoedown while the "captain" leads us wherever -- maybe oblivion, but let's just keep on dancing.
One Man Wrecking Machine is a good choice as the album's first single (
and video) because it has a catchy chorus that burns itself into your head without that grating sensation of most pop songs. It's a sort of twist on the Guster classic What You Wish For, with the final chorus slightly more positive than the last. The first two verses are a wish to go back and re-script high school, maybe to get on a firmer footing after that. By the end, we've realized that's a useless wish.At first glance, I thought the lyrics were a little too close to sheer self-pity. But on a couple of listens, it sounds more like a common Guster theme -- feeling your pain while encouraging you to do something other than wallowing in it. Sure, we all dream of going back to high school and being smarter, more popular, more athletic, etc. But if you could build a time machine, what would you solve? What difference would it make?
There are a couple of louder, uptempo songs. C'mon is a more overt sequel to Great Escape, perhaps too much of a repeat for my tastes. The New Underground is along the lines of the great Smashing Pumpkins genre-bashing Cherub Rock ... IF it's about the music industry, which can't be assumed.
And there are a couple of more subdued, minor-key songs. Lightning Rod is another one of those post-9/11, pre-ice cap melting songs that sound vaguely ominous, but Ryan manages to convey a sense of resilience which, again, a lesser band wouldn't manage. Satellite is faster, borrowing the mood and maybe a hook or two from The Church's Reptile (Yes, I felt vindicated in thinking this when the Gusterography site quoted Brian Rosenworcel's description: "It's more of a Fleetwood Mac meets The Church kind of thing"). I like the song but don't know quite what to make of the lyrics, and I'm not alone.
That leads us to the centerpiece of this album -- the epic (running time: 7:06)
Ruby Falls. It's an unusual Guster song for so many reasons. First, it covers a lot of musical territory -- almost a '70s feel at times, then some shrieking guitar, then a long, shimmering fadeout punctuated by a trumpet solo, so indispensible in the arrangement that Adam Gardner seems to have learned the trumpet just so he could play it live. Second, the chord changes are just crazy -- a tab I read lists the verse as F, Dm, A (no, not Am!), Bb, F, Eb, Bb, then the chorus is Dm, Emsus4 (OH, I love this chord in this chorus), Bb, F.Third, the lyrics -- Rosenworcel's -- could refer to almost anything you like. A broken relationship? Again, the state of the world? Getting lost in the woods, looking for a waterfall? Here's Ryan in an engaging interview: "The song probably means something totally different to (Brian) than it does to me, and I’m the one singing it."
It's just brilliant. The only band I can name that could've written and recorded something like this is Yes, and Steve Howe and Rick Wakeman would've tacked on some 800-note solos to stretch it to 20 minutes. The only showy bits in this song are some thunderous fills from Rosenworcel, perhaps proving the former hand-drum king can also find his way around a kit. (Or maybe he actually did it all on hand drums just to fool you -- there are a handful of songs that sound like a kit on first listen but probably aren't, and he spent a lot of time in the bongos-and-congas area when I saw them live a few weeks ago.)
I've seen some valid criticism of this album, and I can imagine some others. There's nothing as catchy and fun as some of the early Guster works, and some people miss the old sound. Rebuttal: Within the confines of the old two-guitars-and-hand-drums sound, they probably could never top Lost and Gone Forever, and you can rest assured they'll be playing those songs live until Brian's hands can no longer take it. Today's Guster can bounce around through several musical styles and still have it sound like Guster. That's the sign of a mature band.
Yet I'll agree with this reviewer that we don't hear enough of Adam's vocals, and that Ryan's voice wears thin as you hit the seventh or eighth song. Guster built itself up with two good singers, not one great one, and they made it work. It strikes me a mistake to drop to one at this point.
I generally don't do "star" rankings. I'll summarize this way:
- Interesting, worth at least a listen? Definitely
- At least three iPod-worthy songs? I have six -- Lightning Rod, Satellite, Manifest Destiny, One Man Wrecking Machine, The Captain and Ruby Falls.
- Fun as well as artistically satisfying? More the latter than the former, but certainly entertaining
- Best album to get if I'm a first-time Guster listener? No -- get Lost and Gone Forever, then download Amsterdam and Come Downstairs and Say Hello, then get this one. If you want more of the old Guster sound, try Demons and Great Escape.
A Down With Snark classic
I really can't add anything to this, but I wanted to pass it along for the benefit of my five or six readers because it's the sort of anti-rhetorical cognitive thinking we desperately need in these snarky times.
"Anti-rhetorical" probably isn't a word, but I don't know what I'd choose in its place. Basically, we are living in the Age of Rhetoric. If you, like me, have ever had an e-mail exchange with a professional pundit, you know that Logic is the weakest of the seven classical liberal arts these days, and Rhetoric is the strongest. You know what we should call Rhetoric without Logic? Bullshit.
And DWS has the best bullshit detector this side of The Daily Show.
So here's a key excerpt -- enjoy, then go read the rest.
One thing I'll note just to show how deserving DWS' target, Germaine Greer, happens to be -- she was making a tasteless point about Steve Irwin, whose death to me is the rough equivalent of Evel Knievel getting struck by lightning on his way to the store. For all the daring things he did, he suffers a direct hit from a stingray? I'd expect that to happen to, say, me -- a lily-livered couch potato who doesn't do things like snorkeling and scuba diving precisely because I'd freak out and startle a stingray. But a guy who wrestled crocodiles dying this way? To use another analogy, it's like an Old West gunfighter getting shot accidentally by a neighbor cleaning his gun.
Naturally, in the era of snark (which is just Rhetoric Gone Wild), people are going to make fun of him anyway. And that's why we need more blogs like DWS to take them down without resorting to the hate speech that people so often use in place of rational arguments.
(One little twist to show how muddled our thinking has become: One of Greer's critics, some sort of Aussie bureaucrat, rightly points out that it's tasteless to say such things while Irwin's family is grieving -- I'd argue that being wrong is never right, no matter how much time you give a family to grieve -- but then labels her rant "political correctness." Not once, but twice. How is taking potshots at a recently deceased, widely beloved man "politically correct"?)
"Anti-rhetorical" probably isn't a word, but I don't know what I'd choose in its place. Basically, we are living in the Age of Rhetoric. If you, like me, have ever had an e-mail exchange with a professional pundit, you know that Logic is the weakest of the seven classical liberal arts these days, and Rhetoric is the strongest. You know what we should call Rhetoric without Logic? Bullshit.
And DWS has the best bullshit detector this side of The Daily Show.
So here's a key excerpt -- enjoy, then go read the rest.
There's a rule about the snark parentheses. They are used for snarking something that your target ACTUALLY SAID. If you cannot find a quote that suits your brilliant snarky bon mot, YOU DO NOT GET TO POSIT THE EXISTENCE OF SUCH A QUOTE AND MAKE SOMETHING UP.
One thing I'll note just to show how deserving DWS' target, Germaine Greer, happens to be -- she was making a tasteless point about Steve Irwin, whose death to me is the rough equivalent of Evel Knievel getting struck by lightning on his way to the store. For all the daring things he did, he suffers a direct hit from a stingray? I'd expect that to happen to, say, me -- a lily-livered couch potato who doesn't do things like snorkeling and scuba diving precisely because I'd freak out and startle a stingray. But a guy who wrestled crocodiles dying this way? To use another analogy, it's like an Old West gunfighter getting shot accidentally by a neighbor cleaning his gun.
Naturally, in the era of snark (which is just Rhetoric Gone Wild), people are going to make fun of him anyway. And that's why we need more blogs like DWS to take them down without resorting to the hate speech that people so often use in place of rational arguments.
(One little twist to show how muddled our thinking has become: One of Greer's critics, some sort of Aussie bureaucrat, rightly points out that it's tasteless to say such things while Irwin's family is grieving -- I'd argue that being wrong is never right, no matter how much time you give a family to grieve -- but then labels her rant "political correctness." Not once, but twice. How is taking potshots at a recently deceased, widely beloved man "politically correct"?)
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Next time, ASK someone
The Post's John Maynard (or an editor) had a neat story idea -- watch five cooking shows and see what a neophyte can learn about cooking.
One problem: He picked lousy shows.
Emeril's show is fine for his purposes, even if it's not one of my favorites. But Take Home Chef? Throwdown with Bobby Flay, which is apparently some sort of Iron Chef knockoff?
Here's what Maynard should have watched, courtesy of a regular Food Network viewer:
- We'll leave Emeril, just for the different style.
- Good Eats. Emeril's polar opposite -- an engaging nerdy guy using all sorts of contrived situations and props to teach us the science of cooking. You won't always get a good recipe, but you'll always learn something.
- 30 Minute Meals. The conventional wisdom on Rachael Ray seems to be that people love her or can't stand her. I dare to think my opinion is true for most of us -- we love her cooking shows and are a little ambivalent on her awkwardly staged "travel, meet and greet" shows.
- License to Grill. An obscure one from Discovery Home channel, featuring a guy who has a lot of expensive grills in his backyard and always has pretty friends coming over.
- Everyday Italian. You can't get any friendlier than Giada, and her recipes look useful.
One problem: He picked lousy shows.
Emeril's show is fine for his purposes, even if it's not one of my favorites. But Take Home Chef? Throwdown with Bobby Flay, which is apparently some sort of Iron Chef knockoff?
Here's what Maynard should have watched, courtesy of a regular Food Network viewer:
- We'll leave Emeril, just for the different style.
- Good Eats. Emeril's polar opposite -- an engaging nerdy guy using all sorts of contrived situations and props to teach us the science of cooking. You won't always get a good recipe, but you'll always learn something.
- 30 Minute Meals. The conventional wisdom on Rachael Ray seems to be that people love her or can't stand her. I dare to think my opinion is true for most of us -- we love her cooking shows and are a little ambivalent on her awkwardly staged "travel, meet and greet" shows.
- License to Grill. An obscure one from Discovery Home channel, featuring a guy who has a lot of expensive grills in his backyard and always has pretty friends coming over.
- Everyday Italian. You can't get any friendlier than Giada, and her recipes look useful.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Any film you can hate, I can hate better
After being subjected to six weeks of ads for The Wicker Man, I'm enjoying the critical backlash, even if it's late in coming because this film wasn't pre-screened.
Check out all the reviews at Rotten Tomatoes, where critics are one-upping each other with vitriol as if they're auditioning for the handful of funny scenes in White Men Can't Jump.
Current favorites:
"Really could have used a few musical numbers and more cavorting naked women." (Edward Douglas, ComingSoon.net)
"In the remake, LaBute has Cage beating up women with karate kicks, and has placed an insulting coda on the film that screams of studio intervention of the worst kind. This is not progress." (Brian Orndorf, EFilmCritic.com)
"It is perhaps a tad unreasonable to recommend that actor Nicolas Cage and writer/director Neil LaBute be burned at the stake for what they’ve done to The Wicker Man, that most British of cult movies." (Peter Howell, Toronto Star)
"I had no idea The Wicker Man remake was a comedy." (Rebecca Murray, About.com)
And the one that made me think of the hilariously absurd meeting of costumed bears in The Avengers: "When he was reading the script, and saw the part of the movie where he is supposed to run through the forest in a bear suit, I hope Cage asked for a huge pay raise." (Willie Waffle, WaffleMovies.com)
Check out all the reviews at Rotten Tomatoes, where critics are one-upping each other with vitriol as if they're auditioning for the handful of funny scenes in White Men Can't Jump.
Current favorites:
"Really could have used a few musical numbers and more cavorting naked women." (Edward Douglas, ComingSoon.net)
"In the remake, LaBute has Cage beating up women with karate kicks, and has placed an insulting coda on the film that screams of studio intervention of the worst kind. This is not progress." (Brian Orndorf, EFilmCritic.com)
"It is perhaps a tad unreasonable to recommend that actor Nicolas Cage and writer/director Neil LaBute be burned at the stake for what they’ve done to The Wicker Man, that most British of cult movies." (Peter Howell, Toronto Star)
"I had no idea The Wicker Man remake was a comedy." (Rebecca Murray, About.com)
And the one that made me think of the hilariously absurd meeting of costumed bears in The Avengers: "When he was reading the script, and saw the part of the movie where he is supposed to run through the forest in a bear suit, I hope Cage asked for a huge pay raise." (Willie Waffle, WaffleMovies.com)
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Wussy songs -- the lazy approach
Rather than go through AOL's 111 Wussiest Songs of All Time myself, I'm just going to respond to Down With Snark's excellent take on it.
SONGS I LIKE
109. Sixpence None the Richer, Kiss Me. There's a difference between "wussy" and "pretty." This is the latter.
96. 10CC, I'm Not in Love. A classic '70s tune. There's a great Cardigans song called For What It's Worth that could be considered an answer from a female perspective -- she sings about how she's in love with the dude in her bed, then denies it to calm him down, then comes back with "Guess what? I actually am." It's a really clever song.
62. Jim Croce, Time in a Bottle. If the lyrics here were cliche, this would be wussy. They aren't. This one's beautiful.
60. Kajagoogoo, Too Shy. Wussy? No song with a bass line that funky could be wussy.
48. Billy Joel, Just the Way You Are. I'll have to disagree with DWS here. I love the chord progression, which I played a little back in my piano-playing days. And it's self-effacing, too -- he doesn't want clever conversation because "I never want to work that hard."
30. Katrina and the Waves, Walking on Sunshine. Wussy? It's a cute pop song. Anyone who thinks that's "wussy" might be feeling a little insecure in his masculinity.
25. Five for Fighting, Superman (It's Not Easy). The histrionics aren't as grating in this one as they are in some other FFF efforts, and it's a unique take on heroism.
10. Coldplay, Fix You. Yes, I know people don't need to be "fixed," and yes, the falsetto is a bit much. I'm sorry. If your hair doesn't stand on end when they build to the break at the end, then you and I just don't appreciate music the same way.
8. Culture Club, Do You Really Want to Hurt Me. I'm going to argue here that gay men are tougher than straight men. To dress the way Boy George did and to sing something like this -- well, at the very least, that's brave. This one happens to have a better beat that most songs of its lyrical ilk.
6. Dan Fogelberg, Longer. I played this on guitar at a school assembly as accompaniment for a "chorus" of three girls, one of whom I had a massive crush on. So maybe I appreciate this song more than most people. But maybe we'd all be better off with a few more acoustic guitar ballads.
SONGS I DON'T
100. Cutting Crew, I Just Died (in Your Arms) Tonight. I've intentionally misplaced the parentheses to underscore the muddled sentiment of this piffle.
83. Chicago, You're the Inspiration. These mid-'80s Chicago ballads killed me. Great horn section, good guitarist, good rep for jazz-rock, and they're standing around fingering bland chords on cheap keyboards.
76. Mr. Big, To Be With You. The perfunctory we-wrote-this-so-eighth-graders-can-get-laid ballad.
72. Boyz II Men, I'll Make Love to You. The nadir of the Farley-Sandler year on SNL was when the guys in the cast sang this to the women with no apparent joke. Maybe I'm remembering this incorrectly. I hope so.
64. Stevie Wonder, I Just Called to Say I Love You. Geez, those cheesy keyboard sounds. Remember when they were the wave of the future? I'll point out here that Overjoyed is one of the best freaking ballads ever written, and I love the fact that MMM Jr. is already a fan.
55. Bryan Adams, Everything I Do, I Do It for You. Oh, Bryan, you shouldn't have. Seriously.
35. Patrick Swayze, She's Like the Wind. Who let him do this?
33. Celine Dion, My Heart Will Go On. Puke.
27. Extreme, More Than Words. I like DWS' distillation of the lyrics. One of the highlights of this band's train-wreck appearance on Bands Reunited (they declined) was Gary Cherone's attempt to explain this song as something other than a crass demand for sex.
13. Neil Diamond & Barbra Streisand, You Don't Bring Me Flowers. Can someone explain Streisand's appeal? I don't know anyone who likes her singing. I don't know anyone who likes her politics -- she's the classic case of someone whose backing most people seem to avoid. Was she good in films? I'm genuinely curious.
2. Dan Hill, Sometimes When We Touch. No comment.
AMBIVALENT
104. Bruuuuuuuce, Dancing in the Dark. Not a great song, not a bad song. How is it wussy? If it's the keyboards, then Glory Days is wussier, as is most of the music released in the '80s.
84. Dave Matthews Band, Crash. I'm glad DWS brought this up. I actually thought this song was offensive. ("Hike up your skirt a little more and show your world to me"? Ewwww. I'd expect that in the Pamela-and-Tommy sex tape.) Mrs. MMM did not. We mentioned our dispute to another couple we know, and they correctly guessed that the woman of the household loved the song and the man did not. I wonder if Chris Rock put it best. If Denzel Washington (or, in this case, Dave Matthews) is saying it, it's sweet. If Random Ugly Guy is saying it, get out the mace.
23. John Mayer, Your Body is a Wonderland. Some nice guitar work, but I'm not sure about "bubblegum tongues" or the non-specific "I use my hands."
4. James Blunt, You're Beautiful. I seem to recall that Blunt has been dating a succession of impossibly beautiful women, so the whole sad-sack routine doesn't really work. Neither does his falsetto. Great hook, though.
1. R.E.M., Shiny Happy People. It is a little wussy, but what's sadder to me is that what many people think "R.E.M.," they think of this rather than all the great songs from their first six or seven albums.
I'll agree that "wussy" is badly defined here. For me, a "wussy" song is some lyrical treacle spewed by a singer dragging each syllable out to about 15 notes over an electric piano being played by a heavily sedated accompanist.
One person I'll pick on -- Bonnie Raitt, for I Can't Make You Love Me. Not only do I not like the lyrics, but I have never been able to make any instruments being played behind her voice. It's as if someone is planting the chord changes on some subliminal level. And when you have a woman who plays a mean slide guitar like Bonnie, that's unforgivable.
SONGS I LIKE
109. Sixpence None the Richer, Kiss Me. There's a difference between "wussy" and "pretty." This is the latter.
96. 10CC, I'm Not in Love. A classic '70s tune. There's a great Cardigans song called For What It's Worth that could be considered an answer from a female perspective -- she sings about how she's in love with the dude in her bed, then denies it to calm him down, then comes back with "Guess what? I actually am." It's a really clever song.
62. Jim Croce, Time in a Bottle. If the lyrics here were cliche, this would be wussy. They aren't. This one's beautiful.
60. Kajagoogoo, Too Shy. Wussy? No song with a bass line that funky could be wussy.
48. Billy Joel, Just the Way You Are. I'll have to disagree with DWS here. I love the chord progression, which I played a little back in my piano-playing days. And it's self-effacing, too -- he doesn't want clever conversation because "I never want to work that hard."
30. Katrina and the Waves, Walking on Sunshine. Wussy? It's a cute pop song. Anyone who thinks that's "wussy" might be feeling a little insecure in his masculinity.
25. Five for Fighting, Superman (It's Not Easy). The histrionics aren't as grating in this one as they are in some other FFF efforts, and it's a unique take on heroism.
10. Coldplay, Fix You. Yes, I know people don't need to be "fixed," and yes, the falsetto is a bit much. I'm sorry. If your hair doesn't stand on end when they build to the break at the end, then you and I just don't appreciate music the same way.
8. Culture Club, Do You Really Want to Hurt Me. I'm going to argue here that gay men are tougher than straight men. To dress the way Boy George did and to sing something like this -- well, at the very least, that's brave. This one happens to have a better beat that most songs of its lyrical ilk.
6. Dan Fogelberg, Longer. I played this on guitar at a school assembly as accompaniment for a "chorus" of three girls, one of whom I had a massive crush on. So maybe I appreciate this song more than most people. But maybe we'd all be better off with a few more acoustic guitar ballads.
SONGS I DON'T
100. Cutting Crew, I Just Died (in Your Arms) Tonight. I've intentionally misplaced the parentheses to underscore the muddled sentiment of this piffle.
83. Chicago, You're the Inspiration. These mid-'80s Chicago ballads killed me. Great horn section, good guitarist, good rep for jazz-rock, and they're standing around fingering bland chords on cheap keyboards.
76. Mr. Big, To Be With You. The perfunctory we-wrote-this-so-eighth-graders-can-get-laid ballad.
72. Boyz II Men, I'll Make Love to You. The nadir of the Farley-Sandler year on SNL was when the guys in the cast sang this to the women with no apparent joke. Maybe I'm remembering this incorrectly. I hope so.
64. Stevie Wonder, I Just Called to Say I Love You. Geez, those cheesy keyboard sounds. Remember when they were the wave of the future? I'll point out here that Overjoyed is one of the best freaking ballads ever written, and I love the fact that MMM Jr. is already a fan.
55. Bryan Adams, Everything I Do, I Do It for You. Oh, Bryan, you shouldn't have. Seriously.
35. Patrick Swayze, She's Like the Wind. Who let him do this?
33. Celine Dion, My Heart Will Go On. Puke.
27. Extreme, More Than Words. I like DWS' distillation of the lyrics. One of the highlights of this band's train-wreck appearance on Bands Reunited (they declined) was Gary Cherone's attempt to explain this song as something other than a crass demand for sex.
13. Neil Diamond & Barbra Streisand, You Don't Bring Me Flowers. Can someone explain Streisand's appeal? I don't know anyone who likes her singing. I don't know anyone who likes her politics -- she's the classic case of someone whose backing most people seem to avoid. Was she good in films? I'm genuinely curious.
2. Dan Hill, Sometimes When We Touch. No comment.
AMBIVALENT
104. Bruuuuuuuce, Dancing in the Dark. Not a great song, not a bad song. How is it wussy? If it's the keyboards, then Glory Days is wussier, as is most of the music released in the '80s.
84. Dave Matthews Band, Crash. I'm glad DWS brought this up. I actually thought this song was offensive. ("Hike up your skirt a little more and show your world to me"? Ewwww. I'd expect that in the Pamela-and-Tommy sex tape.) Mrs. MMM did not. We mentioned our dispute to another couple we know, and they correctly guessed that the woman of the household loved the song and the man did not. I wonder if Chris Rock put it best. If Denzel Washington (or, in this case, Dave Matthews) is saying it, it's sweet. If Random Ugly Guy is saying it, get out the mace.
23. John Mayer, Your Body is a Wonderland. Some nice guitar work, but I'm not sure about "bubblegum tongues" or the non-specific "I use my hands."
4. James Blunt, You're Beautiful. I seem to recall that Blunt has been dating a succession of impossibly beautiful women, so the whole sad-sack routine doesn't really work. Neither does his falsetto. Great hook, though.
1. R.E.M., Shiny Happy People. It is a little wussy, but what's sadder to me is that what many people think "R.E.M.," they think of this rather than all the great songs from their first six or seven albums.
I'll agree that "wussy" is badly defined here. For me, a "wussy" song is some lyrical treacle spewed by a singer dragging each syllable out to about 15 notes over an electric piano being played by a heavily sedated accompanist.
One person I'll pick on -- Bonnie Raitt, for I Can't Make You Love Me. Not only do I not like the lyrics, but I have never been able to make any instruments being played behind her voice. It's as if someone is planting the chord changes on some subliminal level. And when you have a woman who plays a mean slide guitar like Bonnie, that's unforgivable.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
SNL: Changes in the works
We knew Tina Fey and Rachel Dratch were moving on, and we knew budget cuts meant more changes were coming.
Now the word is starting to leak out, and most sources say four people are gone. Most sources say Chris Parnell and Horatio Sanz are two of those four. It's hard to argue with either of those. Parnell has been a reliable mainstay for years, but after six or seven years, you either have to become a cornerstone (Kevin Nealon, Phil Hartman) or a good guy to keep around in a transitional period (Tim Meadows). Parnell is neither of those. And neither is Sanz, who has had a few good characters but wears thin the more you see him. According to Wikipedia's count, both of those guys have been around since September 1998, though Parnell was briefly out of the cast.
The one that I can only hope is incorrect -- Kenan Thompson. The first SNL cast member born after the show's 1975 debut (no, not Jimmy Fallon, who was born in '74) is the best young talent in the current cast. Yes, better than Andy Samberg, who was great in Lazy Sunday but hasn't done much else of note. Thompson has been busy in films, so it wouldn't surprise me if he left on his own. But SNL can keep him, they should.
I've only seen Thompson's name from one source (LATimes, linked above). Same goes for Will Forte, named at mediabistro.com. I'd have mixed feelings on Forte. I'm not sure how many times they can do "The Falconer," and I've never quite bought his Bush impression. Granted, it's unfair to judge the guy who had to follow Will Ferrell.
The LATimes also says Darrell Hammond's status is unclear. Hammond holds the longevity record at 11 years unless you count Al Franken's sporadic appearances. That's a tough call. It's hard to picture the cast without him. SNL relies on having someone on hand who can fill a lot of roles, particularly impressions. That was Hartman for years, then Ferrell and then Hammond. If they could develop someone else in that role -- Bill Hader is the best bet -- then I'd feel better about letting Hammond call it a day.
If they are indeed cutting four in addition to Fey and Dratch, then at least one of those three would be sticking around.
I'm surprised in a way that Maya Rudolph hasn't been mentioned. She has had a terrific run, but she didn't really get back in the swing of things after her maternity break, and I wondered if she was ready to move on. If Hammond and Parnell leave, Rudolph will be the elder stateswoman of the cast.
They could use a smaller cast. I'm not sure anyone develops by sitting around in a 15-person cast and spending a week hoping to get into one sketch. But Thompson, and maybe Hammond, would be tough losses.
Now the word is starting to leak out, and most sources say four people are gone. Most sources say Chris Parnell and Horatio Sanz are two of those four. It's hard to argue with either of those. Parnell has been a reliable mainstay for years, but after six or seven years, you either have to become a cornerstone (Kevin Nealon, Phil Hartman) or a good guy to keep around in a transitional period (Tim Meadows). Parnell is neither of those. And neither is Sanz, who has had a few good characters but wears thin the more you see him. According to Wikipedia's count, both of those guys have been around since September 1998, though Parnell was briefly out of the cast.
The one that I can only hope is incorrect -- Kenan Thompson. The first SNL cast member born after the show's 1975 debut (no, not Jimmy Fallon, who was born in '74) is the best young talent in the current cast. Yes, better than Andy Samberg, who was great in Lazy Sunday but hasn't done much else of note. Thompson has been busy in films, so it wouldn't surprise me if he left on his own. But SNL can keep him, they should.
I've only seen Thompson's name from one source (LATimes, linked above). Same goes for Will Forte, named at mediabistro.com. I'd have mixed feelings on Forte. I'm not sure how many times they can do "The Falconer," and I've never quite bought his Bush impression. Granted, it's unfair to judge the guy who had to follow Will Ferrell.
The LATimes also says Darrell Hammond's status is unclear. Hammond holds the longevity record at 11 years unless you count Al Franken's sporadic appearances. That's a tough call. It's hard to picture the cast without him. SNL relies on having someone on hand who can fill a lot of roles, particularly impressions. That was Hartman for years, then Ferrell and then Hammond. If they could develop someone else in that role -- Bill Hader is the best bet -- then I'd feel better about letting Hammond call it a day.
If they are indeed cutting four in addition to Fey and Dratch, then at least one of those three would be sticking around.
I'm surprised in a way that Maya Rudolph hasn't been mentioned. She has had a terrific run, but she didn't really get back in the swing of things after her maternity break, and I wondered if she was ready to move on. If Hammond and Parnell leave, Rudolph will be the elder stateswoman of the cast.
They could use a smaller cast. I'm not sure anyone develops by sitting around in a 15-person cast and spending a week hoping to get into one sketch. But Thompson, and maybe Hammond, would be tough losses.
Friday, August 18, 2006
What could be worse than Mr. Zero knowing?
I'll always know where I was when I found out Bruno Kirby died. Not because it's one of those life-changing historical moments like the Challenger explosion (in living room in childhood home), Reagan being shot (being picked up from middle school) or Husker Du breaking up (freshman dorm room), though I did admire his work.
It's because I happened to be IN the venue for one of his most memorable scenes, and I'd even been thinking of that scene as I drove up earlier that evening, completely unaware of his passing.
Of course, I bet I didn't need to explain it to anyone. You can walk up to an awful lot of people and say "What could be worse than Mister Zero knowing?" and you'll end up at the last line, after Jess has made the pitch that infidelity is only a symptom of trouble. "Really? Well, that symptom is fucking my wife."
They don't make movies like that anymore, and that's one reason why I think Bruno has gone to a better place. One where they don't cut about 75 percent of his contributions to This is Spinal Tap.
It's because I happened to be IN the venue for one of his most memorable scenes, and I'd even been thinking of that scene as I drove up earlier that evening, completely unaware of his passing.
That's from the published screenplay of When Harry Met Sally. Specifically, the scene in Giants Stadium, when Harry (Billy Crystal) is telling Jess (Bruno Kirby) that his marriage has just ended. And Giants Stadium is where I happened to be Wednesday night when I found out that Bruno Kirby had died.
"So I'm going to the door, and there are moving men there. Now I start to get suspicious. I say, 'Helen, when did you call these movers?' And she doesn't say anything, so I ask the movers, 'When did this woman book you for this gig?' and they're just standing there, three huge guys, one of them wearing a T-shirt that says, 'Don't fuck with Mister Zero.' So I said, 'Helen, when did you make this arrangement?' She says, 'A week ago.' I said, 'You've known for a week, and you didn't tell me?' And she says, 'I didn't want to ruin your birthday.'"
(The wave comes around.)
"You're saying Mister Zero knew you were getting a divorce a week before you did?"
"Mister Zero knew."
"I can't believe this."
"I haven't told you the bad part yet."
"What could be worse than Mister Zero knowing?"
Of course, I bet I didn't need to explain it to anyone. You can walk up to an awful lot of people and say "What could be worse than Mister Zero knowing?" and you'll end up at the last line, after Jess has made the pitch that infidelity is only a symptom of trouble. "Really? Well, that symptom is fucking my wife."
They don't make movies like that anymore, and that's one reason why I think Bruno has gone to a better place. One where they don't cut about 75 percent of his contributions to This is Spinal Tap.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Guster essentials
Haven't posted in a while, and it might be a few days before I post again, so I figured I'd knock out an easy one -- or at least the one that's been knocking around in my head.
If I were to explain Guster to someone who had not heard them, which songs would I pick, bearing in mind that I don't actually have their sporadically distributed debut and have not yet picked up the new one (it's in the mail)?
Here goes, in chronological order (links are to an unofficial site):
1. Fall in Two. The only song I have -- and the only song I know -- from Parachute. It's more blustery than typical Guster these days, with Adam Gardner handling lead vocals and sounding more gruff (no, not the crime dog) than he does later on. It's a fun song and a good starting point -- less sophisticated than their later efforts. I should get Parachute, though, in part because it was produced by Mike Denneen, ace Boston producer and Jennifer Trynin's husband.
2. Great Escape. I'm limiting myself to two from Goldfly, which means I'll need to omit the gorgeous Demons. This one is driven by a quirky guitar riff that resolves into a chorus that begs you to sing along. Brian Rosenworcel's percussion, still very much in the "look, ma, no sticks" phase, sounds like he's using three or four hands. I'd say it's overdubbing, but I've seen him do it live. (Not this past time, though -- I believe the only Goldfly songs were Demon and ...)
3. Airport Song. A menacing guitar riff, then Adam's matter-of-fact delivery welcoming the listener ... to a cult. Not conventional territory here. In a sense, Adam and Ryan Miller play bad cop-good cop here, with Ryan delivering all the comforting promises -- "I will keep you warm and safe / you'll be better off this way." The guitars and bongos pound out 16th notes like they're auditioning for Motorhead. It's a classic, one they're not likely to remove from the set list anytime soon.
Incidentally -- between the examination of evil in Demons, the cult saga of Airport Song and several songs that could be taken as calls for spiritual renewal and positive thinking, there arose an interesting rumor about Guster. The response on their site is classic:
9. Amsterdam. Best breakup song ever, built on a neat harmonics-driven riff (which, I didn't realize until seeing them live, was played on bass rather than guitar). It's not really mean, just matter-of-fact. It's perhaps the most conventional "rock" song they've ever played, but it's still uniquely Guster. (Incidentally, the lyrics in that link are a little off. I'm guessing much of Guster's audience is too young to have heard of The Shaggs.)
10. Come Downstairs and Say Hello. This may be controversial. I'm leaving off Keep it Together's excellent titletrack, a simple and eloquent plea for a post-9/11 world. I'm omitting Backyard, which uses overgrown grass and weeds as a metaphor for losing interest. (And I try to avoid singing it every time I pull weeds.) But this one is too good, a song that shifts tempo, mood and instrumentation to portray a pothead who's trying to snap out of it and get back to normal life. The opening lines alone beautifully paint the image: "Dorothy moves to click her ruby shoes / right in tune with Dark Side of the Moon." (I've always wanted to try that, but who has the time? And I really don't like the film.
So that's it -- 10 songs to introduce you to Guster if you're over 25 and haven't heard of them. Then you'll be ready for the new one.
If I were to explain Guster to someone who had not heard them, which songs would I pick, bearing in mind that I don't actually have their sporadically distributed debut and have not yet picked up the new one (it's in the mail)?
Here goes, in chronological order (links are to an unofficial site):
1. Fall in Two. The only song I have -- and the only song I know -- from Parachute. It's more blustery than typical Guster these days, with Adam Gardner handling lead vocals and sounding more gruff (no, not the crime dog) than he does later on. It's a fun song and a good starting point -- less sophisticated than their later efforts. I should get Parachute, though, in part because it was produced by Mike Denneen, ace Boston producer and Jennifer Trynin's husband.
2. Great Escape. I'm limiting myself to two from Goldfly, which means I'll need to omit the gorgeous Demons. This one is driven by a quirky guitar riff that resolves into a chorus that begs you to sing along. Brian Rosenworcel's percussion, still very much in the "look, ma, no sticks" phase, sounds like he's using three or four hands. I'd say it's overdubbing, but I've seen him do it live. (Not this past time, though -- I believe the only Goldfly songs were Demon and ...)
3. Airport Song. A menacing guitar riff, then Adam's matter-of-fact delivery welcoming the listener ... to a cult. Not conventional territory here. In a sense, Adam and Ryan Miller play bad cop-good cop here, with Ryan delivering all the comforting promises -- "I will keep you warm and safe / you'll be better off this way." The guitars and bongos pound out 16th notes like they're auditioning for Motorhead. It's a classic, one they're not likely to remove from the set list anytime soon.
Incidentally -- between the examination of evil in Demons, the cult saga of Airport Song and several songs that could be taken as calls for spiritual renewal and positive thinking, there arose an interesting rumor about Guster. The response on their site is classic:
Q: Are you guys a Christian band?
A:Rather than answer this one with a simple yes/no, we suggest you check the following sources for clues: 1) Brian's last name -- "Rosenworcel." 2) Any photo of Ryan where you can see his profile. 3) The Guster Backstage Contract Rider, where we stipify that "the dressing room must be furnished with plenty of borscht, noodle kugels, potato latkes, gefilte fish and homemade rugulah for dessert."
4. What You Wish For. The first song on Lost and Gone Forever, a contender for best album of the past 10 years. The title is deceiving. This is a relatively happy Guster. Even at their most morose, they don't wallow in despair -- they're more likely to urge someone to rise above it or adopt a defiant stance in bad circumstances, an attitude that sets them apart from the whiners who came to dominate alternative radio around this time. What You Wish For is a classic song of optimism, not necessarily offering a fairy-tale ending but suggesting than anything's possible if you just open the curtains and look outside.
5. Barrel of A Gun. The creepy celebrity stalker song, set to a barrage of Brian's bongos, congas and cymbals (he tapes his hands and hits with abandon) behind some triplet riffs from both guitars. Possibly the peak of what's possible in the original Guster sound -- two guitars, Brian's battering and friendly harmony from Ryan and Adam.
6. Fa Fa. Not one of the most straightforward Guster lyrics. It seems to be addressed to someone who's dealing with a recent tragedy, but it's hard to tell what type or what scope. A breakup caused by some careless words? A blow to the self-esteem? Something worse? Hard to tell. The lyrics by themselves could easily be turned into a festival of pity by some lesser band, but Ryan conveys some sympathy in his vocals. Besides, what pityfests have such cool horn breaks? (Live, they just thrash it out with the guitars. This was another one I don't think they played this time.)
7. Center of Attention. I'm torn between this and Happier, a pleasant-sounding song that raises the question of whether you're really better off ditching those friends you think are dragging you down. This one always struck me as a "hit," and yet they didn't play it this time. It has one of their most memorable guitar riffs, and it's a fun singalong. The lyrics apply to almost any toddler and, sadly, a few adults.
8. Careful. The heart and soul of Keep it Together, which came along a few years after L&LF and had a more traditional indie-pop feel with more musical complexity. This one is a gentle reminder to keep an eye out for all the things that can hurt you. The swirling guitars are terrific.9. Amsterdam. Best breakup song ever, built on a neat harmonics-driven riff (which, I didn't realize until seeing them live, was played on bass rather than guitar). It's not really mean, just matter-of-fact. It's perhaps the most conventional "rock" song they've ever played, but it's still uniquely Guster. (Incidentally, the lyrics in that link are a little off. I'm guessing much of Guster's audience is too young to have heard of The Shaggs.)
10. Come Downstairs and Say Hello. This may be controversial. I'm leaving off Keep it Together's excellent titletrack, a simple and eloquent plea for a post-9/11 world. I'm omitting Backyard, which uses overgrown grass and weeds as a metaphor for losing interest. (And I try to avoid singing it every time I pull weeds.) But this one is too good, a song that shifts tempo, mood and instrumentation to portray a pothead who's trying to snap out of it and get back to normal life. The opening lines alone beautifully paint the image: "Dorothy moves to click her ruby shoes / right in tune with Dark Side of the Moon." (I've always wanted to try that, but who has the time? And I really don't like the film.
So that's it -- 10 songs to introduce you to Guster if you're over 25 and haven't heard of them. Then you'll be ready for the new one.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Concert review
Yes, I said "concert." As in getting out of the house and going to a venue to see a live band -- or three! -- perform in person.
It actually doesn't take arm-twisting to get me to see Guster, even if there's a soccer game I wanted to see scheduled on the same night. This is my third time seeing them, and they simply do not disappoint. They're my favorite post-college band -- it's unfair comparing bands of the past 15 years with the bands that got me through high school and college, when I had time to memorize Yes' complicated history and things like that.
They're getting more and more comfortable as an established act now, with five terrific albums to draw from. (OK, I'm assuming the fifth is terrific. I haven't bought it yet, though the new songs they played tonight sounded fine to me.) Ryan Miller is a charismatic frontman -- funny with just the right dose of snark (that is, minimal). Brian Rosenworcel has added a traditional drum kit to much of Guster's recent output, but he still spends half of the set in a whirlwind behind an array of hand drums. The ever-smiling Adam Gardner has a voice that blends perfectly with Miller's and stands out on its own, and they've expanded from three to four with the versatile Joe Pisapia.
They remind me a little bit of Barenaked Ladies, the headliner when I first saw them play. They have a sense of humor, clearly evident in their songs and on their site (they may be the masters of Internet-era band-building), and yet they come across as sincere on a variety of serious topics not necessarily derived from romantic relationships. Pisapia is now Guster's answer to BNL's Kevin Hearn -- the "new guy" who can really play both guitar and keyboards. They don't break into improv comedy like BNL's Ed and Steve, but they're funny and easygoing.
I usually have good luck with opening acts -- Guster with BNL, Primus with Rush, Blue Oyster Cult with Rush, Cheap Trick completely blowing away Robert Plant, 10,000 Maniacs with R.E.M. Guster had two openers this time, and it was an up-and-down experience.
First up was a young band called Rogue Wave, which was basically straightforward indie rock with an ambient edge. (Yes, I know that's an oxymoron, but bear with me.) The drummer is a little enamored of his floor tom, which got a little repetitive, but the overall sound was great. They're ambitious, with all four guys breaking into interlocking vocals amid some occasionally intricate riffs. I couldn't quite make out the lyrics in the mix, so I can't give a complete review of the songs, but they at least rate as "promising," possibly better.
Next up: Ray LaMontagne. With the name, I was expecting a New Orleans piano player. Wow, was I wrong. He's a folk singer who appeared to be heavily medicated. Interesting voice, and the few lyrics I could make out sounded intriguing. But musically, this wasn't much. He had a good guitar player who spent most of the set at a pedal steel, but that wasn't enough.
He apparently has a fan base in this area. Several songs drew an ovation from the first few notes, prompting me to ask Mrs. MMM how anyone can tell these songs apart. They're mostly medium-tempo waltz-time country-blues occasional-unexpected-chord compound-modifier-requiring-many-hyphens-but-still-dull songs.
The good guitarist was the only band member who looked comfortable. The female bass player kept scrunching her face as if she had just bitten into a lemon. The drummer -- well, first of all, he looked like Mickey Dolenz of the Monkees. Not the young, skinny Mickey Dolenz -- the post-1980s reunion Mickey Dolenz. He jutted out his arms at odd angles and occasionally paused to fiddle with bits of the drum set that seemed faulty. Not surprising, considering the whole thing looked like it was about to fall apart -- an old wooden tambourine mounted to a giant bass drum that looked like it was reclaimed from a 1940s marching band. It was as if he were saying, "Dang it, how can this set be falling apart? I spent 10 dollars on it!"
It was a great triple bill for drummers -- Rogue Wave's tom-tom heavy sound, LaMontagne's low-tech approach and Rosenworcel's conga assault. (Now THAT'S a band name.) Three unique styles, and yet the first two used tympani mallets. Different thicknesses, though. (I know, no one but DWS will care about that.)
So if you're going to see this triple bill, get there in time for Rogue Wave, then grab some food, then return for Guster.
It actually doesn't take arm-twisting to get me to see Guster, even if there's a soccer game I wanted to see scheduled on the same night. This is my third time seeing them, and they simply do not disappoint. They're my favorite post-college band -- it's unfair comparing bands of the past 15 years with the bands that got me through high school and college, when I had time to memorize Yes' complicated history and things like that.
They're getting more and more comfortable as an established act now, with five terrific albums to draw from. (OK, I'm assuming the fifth is terrific. I haven't bought it yet, though the new songs they played tonight sounded fine to me.) Ryan Miller is a charismatic frontman -- funny with just the right dose of snark (that is, minimal). Brian Rosenworcel has added a traditional drum kit to much of Guster's recent output, but he still spends half of the set in a whirlwind behind an array of hand drums. The ever-smiling Adam Gardner has a voice that blends perfectly with Miller's and stands out on its own, and they've expanded from three to four with the versatile Joe Pisapia.
They remind me a little bit of Barenaked Ladies, the headliner when I first saw them play. They have a sense of humor, clearly evident in their songs and on their site (they may be the masters of Internet-era band-building), and yet they come across as sincere on a variety of serious topics not necessarily derived from romantic relationships. Pisapia is now Guster's answer to BNL's Kevin Hearn -- the "new guy" who can really play both guitar and keyboards. They don't break into improv comedy like BNL's Ed and Steve, but they're funny and easygoing.
I usually have good luck with opening acts -- Guster with BNL, Primus with Rush, Blue Oyster Cult with Rush, Cheap Trick completely blowing away Robert Plant, 10,000 Maniacs with R.E.M. Guster had two openers this time, and it was an up-and-down experience.
First up was a young band called Rogue Wave, which was basically straightforward indie rock with an ambient edge. (Yes, I know that's an oxymoron, but bear with me.) The drummer is a little enamored of his floor tom, which got a little repetitive, but the overall sound was great. They're ambitious, with all four guys breaking into interlocking vocals amid some occasionally intricate riffs. I couldn't quite make out the lyrics in the mix, so I can't give a complete review of the songs, but they at least rate as "promising," possibly better.
Next up: Ray LaMontagne. With the name, I was expecting a New Orleans piano player. Wow, was I wrong. He's a folk singer who appeared to be heavily medicated. Interesting voice, and the few lyrics I could make out sounded intriguing. But musically, this wasn't much. He had a good guitar player who spent most of the set at a pedal steel, but that wasn't enough.
He apparently has a fan base in this area. Several songs drew an ovation from the first few notes, prompting me to ask Mrs. MMM how anyone can tell these songs apart. They're mostly medium-tempo waltz-time country-blues occasional-unexpected-chord compound-modifier-requiring-many-hyphens-but-still-dull songs.
The good guitarist was the only band member who looked comfortable. The female bass player kept scrunching her face as if she had just bitten into a lemon. The drummer -- well, first of all, he looked like Mickey Dolenz of the Monkees. Not the young, skinny Mickey Dolenz -- the post-1980s reunion Mickey Dolenz. He jutted out his arms at odd angles and occasionally paused to fiddle with bits of the drum set that seemed faulty. Not surprising, considering the whole thing looked like it was about to fall apart -- an old wooden tambourine mounted to a giant bass drum that looked like it was reclaimed from a 1940s marching band. It was as if he were saying, "Dang it, how can this set be falling apart? I spent 10 dollars on it!"
It was a great triple bill for drummers -- Rogue Wave's tom-tom heavy sound, LaMontagne's low-tech approach and Rosenworcel's conga assault. (Now THAT'S a band name.) Three unique styles, and yet the first two used tympani mallets. Different thicknesses, though. (I know, no one but DWS will care about that.)
So if you're going to see this triple bill, get there in time for Rogue Wave, then grab some food, then return for Guster.
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