Far Out, Maaaaaannnnnn.

more about “Galactic Center of Milky Way Rises ov…“, posted with vodpod

Woah [/keanu]

And Disney Loses Yet Another Battle In The War For My Soul

How freaking insane is that?!?  I must’ve watched those flicks 50 times apiece, minimum, and i never caught any of that.  Subconsciously, perhaps, but really i’m shocked that i never saw the patterns.  Just SHOCKED.

How say you folks?  Did any of you see that coming?

*

[Clip brought to my attention by my little brother, Joe, via College Humor.  Good on 'im.]

OK, Here’s The Thing

I want to post here more often, i really do.  This space is attractive to me because unlike most places on the net, this page is semi-legitimately mine.  It reminds me a bit of my old Geocities page back in the day, only way better (jesus, do you guys remember Geocities? . . wild how long ago that was, right?).  But, ok, here’s the thing, i think that the reason i post here so infrequently is that i spread myself too thin with my online time.  Example: Let’s say that i see/read/hear/conjure-up something that i want to post somewhere for people to see.  I have several ways/places/avenues to make that happen, and more and more my choice of venue is dictated by what kind of content i wish to post.  If it’s fleeting and incidental i may Twitter it or post it on Facebook.  If it’s personal i may send it to said person via email or private message.  If it’s something that i want responses to or instant gratification from i’m likely to make a thread about it on the forum i’m currently frequenting.  Finally, if it’s a long bit, an essay or the like, it’s generally either going to end up here or a terribly unfortunate somebody in my personal radius is going to hear about it in verbal rant form (which can’t be fun).

You see?  Too many fucking options.  I need to consolidate.  I need to downsize.  I need to focus!

Ideally, i’d love to just post everything here, like a “normal blogger”, like the popular bloggers do.  But i’m wary of that because, as i intimated a second ago, while i do love the idea of this site, i get so very little feedback from what i write here that i tend to hesitate before considering turning my pressing thoughts into a WordPress post.  I mean, come on.  Look at the comments i’ve received here.  Other than those offered by my friend Megan (whose viewership i appreciate very very very much), they are scarce-to-non-existent, and i’m sure that even Megan gets tired of fully reading my diatribes (they’re a bit long, i know).  So, as much as her comments tickle my fanceh (always), i’m perplexed and dismayed by the lack of response from everyone else.  Not that i write for the glory of public acclaim, but the internet is all about instant gratification, and this page has given me little-to-none of that.

Keep in mind that WordPress has a wonderful stats page that i can view, and as such i know when people visit here and read my stuff.  The idea that dozens of randoms and friends read what i write week-in and week-out but that only one (very kind) friend cares enough to offer support, commentary, and criticism is disconcerting and discouraging, to say the least.

But that’s not the whole of the issue at hand, of course.  I can sit here and whine about a lack of readers and comments for eons, but as i began to say in the first paragraph, that’s not really the crux of the problem as much as it is peripheral and atmospheric.  I’m a writer at heart, and as such i’m going to write whether anyone is there to read it or not.  The real problem is that my attention has been totally split by the “recent” explosion of social networking into and all over mainstream culture (yes that was a pron reference).

So what’s the solution?

To be frank, i’m not sure.  I could stop Twittering, but Twitter has become an easy way to feel like i’m in direct communication with some of the musicians (Dave Matthews, Fonzie Lessard, Colin Meloy, John Mayer, Amanda Palmer, Ingrid Michaelson, etc) and other miscellaneous people of note (cyclist and hero Lance Armstrong, renown chef Richard Blaise, etc) that i most admire, and as such i’m not going to stop checking it regularly (and as long as i’m there, i may as well write something, right?).  Besides, it’s not like i’ve actually Twittered anything really substantial or noteworthy anyways, so it’s hardly a competitor for attention with this home that i’m trying to forge here.  Same thing goes for Facebook.  I don’t actually write much there; nothing of substance that i can remember off the top of my head, so the minute amount of time i spend there is moot in this conversation, i suppose.  What does that leave?  Emails?  PMs?  This is hardly the place for that kind of content.

So here we are, left with only one culprit: the dreaded Internet Forum.  Timesucker.  Madhouse.  Misfit Zoo.  Sprawling Palace of Immaturity.  Black Hole of Life.  Yet here’s where that second paragraph comes into play a bit.  To hastily start a thread (a matter of a minute or two) and get immediate feedback, or to write a carefully crafted blog post here (often a matter of several hours) and chance getting little-to-no feedback.  That is the question (without a question mark, apparently).

I guess it does end up coming back to how much feedback matters to me after all.  Go figure.

Alrighty then, this is what i shall do:  From now on, when i get a notion to make a forum thread or post a little blurb on Facebook or Twitter or whatever, i’ll double it here (as long as it’s substantial enough to stand on its own, that is).  That way this site will (hopefully) become what i always wanted it to be: A real digital encapsulation of The Tony; my online home.  Therefore some of my posts here will now be incredibly brief.  I may even post more than once a day, time and inspirado permitting.  Prepare yourselves, for the journey into the mind of The Tony is not to be taken lightly; lots of stairways that lead to the ceiling and doors that open into nowhere, if you catch my drift.  I’m twisty like that (or maybe i just wish i was twisty like that, i dunno . . oop, see?!  The twists beginneth!!).

In an effort to get this ball rolling i’ll try to put up some back-catalog stuff (if you will) right away.  I can’t promise brilliance or social relevance, i can’t even promise competence.  Some of this you’ve seen before, alright?  I get that.  Deal with it.

As always, comments are appreciated   Ask me questions.  Harangue me.  Throw e-bottles and e-watermelon rinds on the e-stage.  I know it’s all out of love.

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd . . BEGIN!

A Brief Note About Grammar

I figure that it’s about time i put up this little disclaimer regarding my relationship with Grammar.  Anyone who’s read any of these blog posts has surely noticed that i write . . unconventionally in a few ways.  First, i don’t capitalize “I” when i’m supposed to.  Or ever, for that matter (outside of a name or title).  Secondly, i have my own (technically incorrect) way of dealing with quotation marks and punctuation.  Certainly there are other grammatical rules that i skirt and ignore, but those two are the most obvious and potentially off-putting.

Let me assure anyone out there who gives a damn that i do not write this way out of laziness, nor out of ignorance.  I’ve taken and passed (with flying colors, i might add) all of the UC and CSU required writing courses for Humanities Majors, and i am most capable of writing in the Strunk and White, grammatically-correct style if and when such a thing is required of me.  The reason why i write the way that i do is because i have very strong opinions in regards to the wheat and the chaff of Traditional Grammar, and since this is my place to be myself, the happy home of my most personal prose, here i write in the way that i think that all English writers should write.  This isn’t a case of l33t contamination, or text-message/instant-messaging style leaking into my views on syntax as much as it is my way to comment subtly about some of the grammatical rules that i think are utter bullshit.

Capitalizing “I” for example.  Why?  Why do we do that?  We don’t capitalize “A” when it’s by itself, do we?  Unless a letter (vowel or no)  is at the front of a proper title, is at the beginning of a sentence, or is being capitalized for emphasis, i see no reason to give it special treatment.  “I” is a letter like any other.  You’ll find no outdated and arbitrary grammatical segregation here.  I get that the rule may be a way of implying that “I” is like a proper name in some sort of weird, Dali-esque, pronoun-centric sense, but fuck that.  If there’s ever to be a real revolution in The World of Grammar, this silliness with the letter “I” will be at the heart of it, guaranteed.

As for punctuation as it relates to quotations, my objection is more superficial.  I think that the way i do it looks cleaner and clearer than the text-book method.  I don’t like crowding a quote with unnecessary commas and capitalization and the like.  I try to let whatever i’ve put in quotes stand strong by itself with a clear meaning, message, or intent, and i feel that slipping extra punctuation in at the end is illogical and muddies-up the sovereignty of the quote.  Sometimes, of course, the traditional rules regarding these kinds of things are absolutely in-flow with how i think it should look/sound.  Thus, at times i punctuate quotes correctly, and at times i do not.  In either case, it is purposeful.

Most of the other grammar mistakes you’ll find here (sentence fragments, run-ons, sentences beginning with prepositions, incorrect use of ellipses’, improper indenting, comma splices, etc) are also intentional, though certainly one or two will slip through unintentionally as well (i’m only a big, hairless monkey, after all . . i’m bound to make some mistakes).  I try to write with an emphasis on how it “sounds” and not on how much red ink my old Lit professors would throw on it, and i think that there is a strong American tradition from some of our most brilliant writers to back me up (not that i’m including myself in such a group in any way).  Just look at how the Vonneguts, the Keseys, and the Palahniuks of the world write if you don’t know what i’m talking about (and really, if you don’t know what i’m talking about then you desperately need to read more).

Anyways, it’s not that anyone’s been giving me crap about my grammar or anything.  I just thought it was high-time for a disclaimer.  Now move along, move along.  There’s nothing to see here.

Let’s Talk About Country Music

“Elwood Blues: What kind of, uh, music do you usually have here?

Claire: Oh, we got both kinds. We got Country AND Western.”

A question i’ve been asked more than a few times in my life, in one form  or another:

“Do you listen to Country Music?”

The correct answer, invariably, is “That depends.  What do you mean by ‘Country Music’?”

The answer i’ve given the most, however, runs more along the lines of “Country?  Uhhhmm . . .  Not so much.  No.”

Why the disparity?  Embarrassed by my taste?  Compulsive liar maybe?  Nein!  I maintain that it’s a neigh unanswerable question due to the complete and utter failing of one of mankind’s most persistent and ubiquitous cognitive devices: the concept of The Genre.

Given: Genres, as they apply to film, literature, music, or anything else, are weird, outdated, and only moderately useful (at best) at accomplishing what they are designed to accomplish (namely the classification and general description of various media).  I get that.  I think that i’ve understood, roughly, the limitations of Genre for years now, and yet that doesn’t stop me from pondering the exact nature of its failure.  You could say that it’s a bit of an obsession.

At once I can step back from a discussion of where X song or band falls, or why Y Genre “sucks” or “is where it’s at” or “is dead” and say something like “This whole debate is moot.  Genre is a joke, and to assume otherwise is to invite madness!”  (As you may or may not know, i’m fond of hyperbole)  But at the same time, i love those kinds of discussions, mostly, i suppose, because i enjoy discourse on art in any context, even if that context involves the Mobius Strip of logic that is Genre Classification.

[Pause]

Hold up.  I’m getting way too verbose here.  If i expect anyone to read this, i’d better re-evaluate my mode of presentation.  Methinks visual aids will help make my point abundantly clear.  Streaming video for the win!

So, my point beginneth:  THIS IS WHAT I LOVE ABOUT COUNTRY MUSIC -

Willie is amazing.  I saw him play back in 2002, and it was easily one of the best shows i’ve ever seen anyone put on.  The guy is all about The Music.  No light show, no flash, no adornments, just lots and lots of original and brilliant tunes performed by seriously badass musicians (seriously).   He and his band played for a solid two hours that night, and i don’t think they stopped at any point for more than one minute at a time.  Half the songs segued into each other, and as such they must’ve covered a good 25-30 tunes, all awesome.

And let me ask you something: Do you hear a “Country Accent” while he’s singing?  I don’t.  Dude grew up in West Texas, and has continued to live down there for most of his (very) long life, and yet i don’t hear an accent when he sings.  When he talks?  Sure, a bit . . but not when he sings.  Not really.  Almost all of the “color” that he puts into his singing is vibrato, not twang.  Take note of that.  That’s important.

If you haven’t listened to any of Willie’s records, you owe it to yourself to find a copy of Red Headed Stranger or Shotgun Willie toot sweet, and throw that shit ON!  It’s great great stuff.

*

AND THIS IS WHAT I HATE ABOUT COUNTRY MUSIC -

Good lord, need i even say anything?  Toby Keith is just an abomination in every way.  There’s literally nothing about him that isn’t trash.  Note that he sings with a heavy accent.  Note the bullshit patriotic flag-waving at every turn (even on his fucking guitar).  Note the oh-so-classy sleeveless outfit.  Note the cowboy hat (is Toby a cowboy?  No.  No he is NOT).  Note the glorification of dropping bombs on the poor huddled masses of our political enemies.  Note the incredibly vanilla music.

And who else did i put in there . . oh yes, Mr Chesney, my favorite.  This guy, like Keith and a hundred others, absolutely exemplifies what is grotesque about Country Music.  I mean, listen to this song for a minute (if you can).  “She thinks my tractor’s sexy”?  A chorus about his farmer’s tan?  Really dude? Really?!  That’s the best you can do?  That’s what you think art should sound like?  That’s what resides deep down in your soul?  Writing that song must be a real source of pride for ol’ Kenny.  Consider the extremely heavy (hammed-up) accent that he’s singing with.  Consider the (fake) cowboy routine, again.  The glorification of Hicktown USA.  The incredibly vanilla (and shrill, and abysmally poor) music.

Not one ounce of art is to be found anywhere near either of these songs, and they were both big hits for their respective “artists”.  No feeling, no originality, and on even the most basic and superficial of levels, they don’t even sound good!  They aren’t even pleasant to the ears!  The Chesney one, in particular, is just unlistenable.  Lyrics aside, it’s a sad attempt at a song. Whoever produced that number should be strung-up in the middle of Nashville by his toenails and mocked ceaselessly by fruit wielding vagrants, hooligans, and random passersby.

*

AGAIN, WHAT I LOVE ABOUT COUNTRY MUSIC -

GOD i love Johnny Cash.  There’s a reason why the man’s a legend, and it doesn’t have anything to do with his looks, how he was marketed, or his guitar skills (dude could barely play).  Obviously his voice is magical, so that helped, but there are a lot of terrible “country singers” with good voices (Faith Hill and Carrie Underwood come to mind), so the voice wasn’t everything.  No, what made Johnny special is what makes a lot of great great artists special: the honesty.  When he sang, you could tell he was being genuine.  His stuff was original and catchy and haunting, yes (all good qualities), but even when he sang a cover (like Sunday Morning Comin’ Down, the second of those videos, or Hurt, the third video) it could grab you where it counts and not let go.  Kris Kristofferson (who i like) wrote Sunday Morning, and his version pales in comparison to Johnny’s.  Too, Trent Reznor (who i also like) never caught my attention or moved me with Hurt, but that Cash cover brings me to tears every time i hear it.  It’s not just the voice, it’s what’s behind the voice.  An artist.  Genuine, soulful, original.

And let’s listen, too, at what isn’t there.  Johnny grew up in Arkansas during The Depression.  ARKANSAS.  Working the fields; dirt poor!  It doesn’t get more real than that.  And do you hear an accent when he sings?  Nope.  Why not?  Think about that for a second.  Who’s “more country”, Johnny Cash or Kenny Chesney?  Food for thought.

If you haven’t listened to At Folsom Prison by Johnny Cash, or any of his American Recordings from the ’90s that he did with Rick Rubin, you’re missing out on some of the best recordings ever made.  I mean that.  Fully.  Go.  Listen.  Love it.  Thank me later.

*

AND WHAT I HATE ABOUT COUNTRY MUSIC -

Here we have two of the Heavy Hitters of Country Music today: Tim McGraw and Alan Jackson.  They’ve each sold a bazillion records, and are pretty much household names.  I”m not sure there’s much that i have to say here either (though i’m sure i’ll figure something out).  Listen to the tracks; i think they speak for themselves.  “Vanilla” doesn’t even begin to describe this crap.  Do you hear a lot of soul in this music?  Or any at all for that matter?  Listen to how Tim sings the word “down” at the :45 second mark.  This is an example of what i want you to consider.  Does that sound like singing to you?  Is that melodic?  Is that artistic or original, or do you think he’s purposefully trying to sound like someone else (George Strait, Clint Black, Hank Williams, etc, etc)?

As for Alan Jackson, well . . i have a few barbs reserved for him a bit later-on, so i’ll keep it short here.  This isn’t even one of his worst songs, but i think it serves as a fine sample of the musical loogies that this guy hocks on the world year-in and year-out.

Do you get the impression that these guys and their ilk just write the same incredibly tired song over and over and over and over and over again?  And what’s worse, they’re proud of it!  They think that that’s admirable!  I wouldn’t care a whit about any of it, really, if it weren’t for the money and fame and accolades that these people rake-in for this pap.  By being big-name “Country Music Stars”, they bring down the legacies of the Johnny Cash’s and the Willie Nelson’s.  Sing your terrifically bad songs all day and all night, i don’t care as long as you’re just some dill-hole yodeling a bad song on an anonymous street corner in Nashville.  Once hundreds of millions of dollars and titles like “music superstar” start getting thrown around, then i start to care.

As for the accent gripe, let me take a a different tack: Did The Beatles ever sing with an accent?  Not often, huh.  How about The Who, or Led Zeppelin, or U2, or The Police, or Dire Straits?  Not so much.  Occasionally, perhaps, a bit would slip through (especially on the early recordings), but for the most part they all just sang straight-up, with the emphasis on the musicality of the inflections and phrasing, and not on the regionality.  Those bands i just named are all (famously) from the UK, and yet they sing in a clearer “American-English” accent than the Alan Jacksons of the world.  Why?

There are a lot of answers to that question, and i’m sure that more than a few of them are right.  My take is that what Toby Keith and Kenny Chesney and Alan Jackson and the rest of these guys are doing isn’t singing as much as it’s imitation, not unlike an impressionist at a comedy club.  They are trying to sound like someone or something else.  Maybe they’re trying to sound like Clint Black, who in turn was trying to sound like Hank Williams.  I don’t know.  Maybe they’re trying to sound like that tired lap-steel guitar that makes its way into the background of every one of their songs.  That would make sense, i guess, as i can hear similarities between vocal twang and lap-steel twang.  But whatever they’re doing, it’s inauthentic.  I feel that deep-down inside me, without fail, every time i come within earshot of one of these songs.  It vibrates in my bones, and that vibration screams “Inauthentic” and that’s unforgivable.  I mean, to be fake ON TOP OF sounding inharmonious and unmelodic (is “unmelodic” even a word? . . fuck it, it is now!) . . well . . i just don’t know why anyone would do that on purpose (other than the money), and you know full well that this is a purposeful effect.  So, in a very real way, these clowns are Sell-Outs.  Not that they’re all necessarily talented or artistic to begin with (ie. the things that one would be “Selling”), but what art they did/do have in them they are throwing away in favor of “sounding country”, which plays well with a certain (deaf) segment of the population, thus making them oodles and oodles of cash when pushed by the right agency across the right mediums.  It’s all quite dirty, isn’t it.

To be clear, there are some people that manage to walk that fine line between singing with an accent and singing with soul, no doubt.  I will show you examples of a few later in this post; people who have a bit of a southern accent in their tone but still put out very beautiful and original and touching music.  Thus, the accent (or lack thereof) isn’t paramount, necessarily.  It’s not a death sentence.  I just get riled-up about it because it’s an obvious red flag; something that SO many of the very worst of the worst share among them.  But, yes . . moving on.

*

LOVE -

This is John Prine.  In 1971 John put-out what is unequivocally one of the greatest singer-songwriter albums ever recorded; an album eponymously titled John Prine.  It was a country record, as John is a country singer.  If you don’t own that record, then you are woefully incomplete as a human being, and when your time comes you won’t be getting into musical heaven.  It’s sublime, and that’s all there is to it.

In these clips from 2004, he’s still looking and sounding pretty damn good.  Is he wearing a cowboy hat?  A denim vest?  A big rodeo belt buckle?  Do you see any American flags anywhere?  No you don’t, and you won’t.  Why?  Because John respects himself, respects his audience, and respects the music.  Sure, John sings with a bit of an accent, but naturally as opposed to overtly, and tastefully (with respect to melody) as opposed to constantly.  In the first clip, Angel From Montgomery, listen to how he sings the phrase “burnt down” at the 1:16 mark.  Is there regional inflection?  Sure.  A bit.  But if Alan Jackson were singing this, that would’ve been “Buhrn-ehurnt Dayoyowwwn”.  Shades of grey, people.  Shades of grey.

*

LOVE -

Foggy Mountain Breakdown is a Bluegrass masterpiece.  And yes, that’s Steve Martin.  Pretty good, isn’t he?  This is in here because it’s a great example of extremely rural and rootsy country music (in the same ballpark as Dueling Banjos of Deliverance fame i would say), and yet it’s chock-full of musicality.  These guys are fucking virtuosos, they really are.  Incredible musicianship going on here.  And, again, do you see any American flags?  No sir, and you won’t, because Earl Scruggs is a class act (as it goes).  Other than the one guy in faded jeans and a t-shirt (which makes him stand out, and surely was an embarrassment to him when he saw the telecast later-on . . wait, is that Vince Gill?  I think that’s Vince Gill), it’s tastefully presented.  The emphasis is where it should be, on the face-meltingly good music.

*

LOVE -

This is Allison Krauss and Co from the O Brother Where Art Thou soundtrack.  It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?  I’d post the whole soundtrack if i could.  Fantastic stuff, the lot of it.  If you haven’t seen the movie, do so.  It’s beautiful and hilarious and quirky and creative and all other things good in the world.  And it has a killer soundtrack too, of course : )  Duh.

And, although i’m definitely beating a dead horse at this point, note the distinct lack of accent or artifice in Allison’s voice.  Stunning vocals, really.  On top of her naturally impressive tone, you can really hear the control and craftsmanship in her singing.  Extremely precise.  Breathtaking.

*

LOVE -

And here we are at Brandi Carlile.  I adore this chick.  Both of her albums (as well as the live EP) rate quite high on my Most Favoriteist Records of This Decade list.  And yet, here’s an obvious sticky point, right?  She sings with a pretty heavy accent.  Not “Kenny Chesney Heavy”, but in terms of the stuff that i like to listen to, quite heavy.  A lot of regional inflection.  So why do i like her?  Why do i let her get away with it, so to speak?

A few reasons:

1) Musically, she’s the real deal.  She writes and plays and sings (Autotune free) all of her stuff.  That goes a long way with me.  Blue notes and real voices are important.  Singing and playing from the heart is important.

2) Because she is the author and master of her own tunes, i believe that there is a real authenticity that comes out of her when she’s singing.  It’s subjective, sure, but i believe that it’s there, and to me it’s almost tangible.

3) In terms of her singing, she isn’t trying to imitate anyone.  At all.  Brandi has her own style, her own sound (all a part of that “authentic” quality), and i’ve never heard anyone quite like her.  Almost reminds me a bit of when Macy Gray got all big for a minute several years back . . except, you know . . good

*

CAN’T FUCKING STAND -

This isn’t a particularly offensive track, and yet  i don’t think i’m going out on much of a limb to say that this stuff isn’t just what’s wrong with Country Music today, it’s what wrong with Music In General today.  This hyper-vanilla, super-mega overproduced shite is just appalling, isn’t it?  This may as well be a Nickleback song, or Creed (is Creed still around?), or Miley Cyrus/Hillary Duff/*Insert Pretty-Faced Tween Idol Here*.  This is the musical equivalent of Painting By Numbers.  Very much representative of the Jessica Simpsons of the world.  Autotuned all to hell and completely bereft of talent and creativity.  ‘Nuff said.

*

AWFUL -

Just to show you that i don’t only have it in for today’s country stars, here’s a little Brooks and Dunn for you.  These guys have been around for quite a while now, and apparently they’re still quite popular (this was off of their platinum record from ‘05).  Is this mind-blowingly bad?  Not in comparison to some of the other clips i’ve put up, but maybe that’s just the busty vixen in the video warping my mind.   It may not be the worst of the worst, but it’s not good either.  Not.  At.  All.

And really, all it is is a shameless celebration of what i’ve been railing about for the last 3,500 words (thank you WordPress word counter).  Right at the beginning of the song there’s that “Said, ‘I’m a whiskey drinkin’, cowboy chasin’, helluva time.  I like Kenny, Keith, Alan and Patsy Cline’” line.  For those of you that are keeping score at home, that’s Kenny Chesney, Keith Urban, and Alan Jackson she’s talking about.  Pasty Cline was amazing, sure, but i’d bet dollars to pesos that she rolls over in her grave when they play this song.  And “Cowboy chasin’?”  Really?  Where, prey-tell, are these cowboys that she speaks of?  Unless she’s from the middle of Montana, Wyoming, Idaho, or the most rural bits of Colorado, the only cowboys that she’s ever seen are on Halloween and in the movies.  Gimme a fucking break.

Other than a decent little honkey-tonk guitar riff, this song consists of nothing new, nothing original, nothing artistic.  It fails damn-near every test.  Oh, and they’re singing with a very heavy hammed-up accent to-boot.  Nail in the coffin, ladies and gents.  The verdict is in, and it’s not pretty.

*

AWFUL-ER -

“Well i love her, but i love to fish.”  The man that wrote those words is not concerned with such trifles as “artistic integrity” and “lyrical depth”.  Is it a funny song?  Yeah, as it goes, it’s a pretty funny song.  And i understand that it doesn’t take itself seriously, and that i should adjust my expectations accordingly.  But here’s the thing; here’s why this is Awful-er:  This guy, Brad Paisley, he can REALLY play guitar.

As in, this guy is a talented and practiced musician of note, and as such he should be better than this (even lyrical depth aside, it’s a pretty horrid song).  This shouldn’t be acceptable to him.  Look, it’s perfectly ok to write a song that isn’t serious.  The Beatles did it, and if The Beatles did something, then that makes it OK.  I like The Barenaked Ladies.  I like They Might Be Giants.  I like Tenacious D.  Goof-songs are acceptable if (here’s the catch), IF they have the added bonus of also being of high quality.  That’s a big “If”.  Brad is a crazy-good guitarist, yes, but this song is a prime example of his entirely mediocre (or worse-than-mediocre) songwriting and singing abilities.  And guess what, he’s one of the biggest superstars on the planet right now.  To a certain crowd, he’s Jesus, Ben Franklin, and David Beckham rolled into one, and that makes me a sad panda.  As much as i’d like to, i can’t call him a “Talentless hack” because the dude has talent.  But what good is talent if you put out songs like this?  Thus: Awful-er.

[Also, notice the heavy twang in his "singing".  I'm just sayin'.]

*

AWFUL-EST -

These are the songs that really sneak up on you if you’re not paying attention.  It’s a pretty tune, and Martina McBride can sing.  Mos def.  Lady can absolutely sing.  Furthermore, there’s little-to-no twang, so top marks for that.  But, seriously, if you can’t spot the problem with this one, then you Fail Entirely at Having Good Taste.  If the title (God’s Will) is a warning sign (which is most certainly IS), then the first verse is the cliff she’s about to drive us clear over.

“I met God’s Will on a Halloween night
He was dressed as a bag of leaves
It hid the braces on his legs at first.“

She’s talking about a disabled kid in her neighborhood.  Named Will.  I shit you not.  It gets worse, but i won’t reprint that unholy gobbledygook here.  If you really want the full extent of this piece, you’re just going to have to listen to the whole thing yourself, or, i dunno, Google the lyrics or something.  I shan’t do it for you.

Listen folks, i’m going to confess something.  As an (extremely) amateur songsmith, i have written a few doozies in my day (in this case, “Doozie” equates to “Song that sucks fetid donkey nuts”), and so i speak from experience here.  When you’re writing a song, sometimes you start with a riff.  Sometimes you start with a chord progression that you fancy.  Sometimes you may even start with a couple of lyrics that you can’t let go of, and you make music to fit those lyrics.  Most of the time whatever you come up with is just miserably uncool, and it is you-the-songwriter’s job to sniff that stuff out and either work on it until it’s unrecognizable (for the better), or (more likely) toss it and start anew.  I can’t tell you how many times i’ve jotted-down something in the middle of the night thinking that it was “really deep” and “killer material” and when i looked at it next i realized that it would barely pass as bad, emo, junior-high binder-poetry (see: The Goth Kids in South Park).  This stuff ends up in the round file.  I’m not embarrassed to have written it, because i know that all songwriters, great and small, write a ton of trash for every gem they’re lucky enough to piece together.  In our attempts to be honest and eloquent, it’s not unusual to let slip nuggets of creative sewage along the way.  But there is a line there, a line of taste, a line of decency, a line of quality assessment.

Martina McBride knows no such line, apparently.  Perhaps the line is red, and she suffers from Red-Blind Colorblindness.  Perhaps English is a second language to her and she doesn’t fully understand the words that she’s singing.  I dunno.  Whatever the cause, this song is irredeemable.  Pretty voice (albeit set to VERY vanilla music), but no artistic value beyond that.  Which, like with Paisley, is sad, is it not?  Talent gone entirely to waste, and truly Awful-tastic.

*

BEYOND AWFUL -

I know, i know.  This song is ridiculously popular, and thus i’m an ass for even suggesting that it’s not amazing because by doing so i’m personally insulting tens of millions of people, including some people that i respect and care about deeply.  But, you know what, that’s an albatross that i’m gonna to have to learn to bear, ’cause this song is just complete garbage.

Again, like the last two, here we have a pretty talented individual.  Chick can sing.  You can’t tell that by listening to this particular song, since this is the album cut, and is positively dripping with Autotune and over-production (see: Every other mainstream pop record in the last 6-8 years).  But i think that with Carrie in particular, we, America, have had the opportunity to have heard her sing live enough times to know that she’s got quite a voice on her.  Not a Holy-Crap-Her-Singing-Just-Melted-My-Soul kind of voice, but good.  Very good.  But, to me (in case you  haven’t picked-up on it yet), hearing bad music out of talented musicians is exponentially more offensive than hearing it out of hacks.  Hacks are supposed to make drivel.  That’s inherent in the title “Hack”.  People with talent have absolutely no fucking excuse, whatsoever.

To her credit, this song was written by Brett James, Hillary Lindsey, and Gordie Sampson, and not by Miss Underwood.  They are big-label, hit-machine, 21st-Century-Brill-Building hacks.  The hacks in this equation have been spotted and tagged.  Fine.  Does that let the artist off the hook though?  Not for me it doesn’t.  If Elvis doesn’t get off the hook for all those fluff movies (and attached soundtracks) that he did back in the ’60s (and he doesn’t), then Carrie Underwood doesn’t get off the hook here.

Musically this song is (dare i repeat myself even further) excessively vanilla.  Obnoxiously so, even.  The first time i heard it i felt like i’d heard it 2,000 times already, and that’s not because it “has that rare and timeless quality that you know just has to be genius”, but rather because I ACTUALLY HAD HEARD IT 2,000 TIMES ALREADY.  See: Celine Dion.  See: Mariah Carey.  See: Whitney Houston.  See: Martina McBride.  See: Vanessa Williams.  See: Faith Hill.  See: Every other Pop/R&B/Country “Diva” of the last 20 fucking years.  That’s strike one.

Throw in the Autotune and the offensively bad production, and you’re down in the count 0-2.

Hear:

“Jesus take the wheel
Take it from my hands
Cause I can’t do this on my own
I’m letting go
So give me one more chance
To save me from this road I’m on”

And you’ve just struck-out looking.  Never even got the bat off of your shoulder.  Remember when  i was discussing the late-night lyric sheets that end up in the paper shredder because they’re so bad?  Well this right here is worse than anything i’ve ever written at any hour, and trust me, that’s really saying something.  When i think of all the millions of people who belt that out when they hear this song come on the radio, my spirit shrivels up and dies a little bit.

In other words, it’s best not to think about it at all.

*

SO AWFUL THAT THEY DON’T EVEN HAVE A NAME FOR HOW AWFUL THIS IS -

Alan Jackson again.  How did i know we would end up back here, gazing into the soulless, mulletted, mustached mug of this motherfucker again before it was all over?  You know, actually, i’m not sure that there’s anything i can say about this douchenozzle and this song that South Park didn’t already say.

Whomever posted this clip to Youtube had to use chopped-up screenshots instead of the actual video (so it wouldn’t get removed, no doubt), but i think you get the point.  Alan Jackson is the Rudy Giuliani of the music industry, if you will.  As if he wasn’t already a pitiful singer, songwriter, guitarist, and human being in general, he gets further points deducted for this kind of malarkey.  Seriously, is there anyone who ISN’T offended by this song?  I think my point has been made.

*

So, to begin the wrapping-up process, let me get into a bit of minutia  here; a small disclaimer, if you will.  I feel like some explanation is in order, otherwise this whole thing just becomes “Tony Pointlessly Bitching About The State of What Is Known As Country Music And The Existence of Genres”.

Don’t get me wrong, there is some real talent in what i would call “Crap Country”.  I mean, Carrie Underwood has a great voice, and Brad Paisley and Keith Urban are killer guitarists.  But talent and taste are not the same thing.  Shit, Henry Kissinger and Dick Cheney might well be geniuses, but that doesn’t excuse them for their actions, does it.  A Sell-Out is a Sell-Out, regardless of talent.

Think about all those terrible hair bands of the 80’s.  Most of those guys had truly talented guitarists, no joke, yet the music they were churning-out was completely forgettable and without merit.  Steve Vai may well be the most technically perfect guitarist alive, but the guy’s never made a record that i can bite into (not of the ones that i’ve heard anyways).  Elvis Presley himself, beloved icon, “Founder of Rock and Roll” and hero to millions, had one of the most unbelievable voices anyone’s ever heard, but the man spent the majority of his best years making atrocities like Blue Hawaii and Clambake.  Dude might have been the first Sell-Out in modern history, and his talent does not make up for that (though, really, the tragedy that is Elvis will have to be a topic for another blog).

Back on point: Now, the natural reaction at this stage in the discussion is often to move deeper into the genre game by breaking-out Sub Genres!  In other words, you may be saying, “Well, Tony, it appears that you like ‘Outlaw Country” and dislike ‘Radio Country’” and that kind of thing.

But . . “Outlaw Country”?  What does that even mean?  Does that mean that i’ll probably enjoy Waylon Jennings and David Allen Coe?  ‘Cause let me tell you, i’m not the biggest fan of either of those guys.  And would that mean that i won’t ever like the stuff that gets on country radio?  That’s a possibility, as i loathe what radio has become anyways, but weren’t Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson country radio staples at one point (for decades and decades)?  “Oh,” you may say, “But those are ‘Alternative Country’ stations, or ‘Classic Country’ stations, and not representative of ‘Real’ Modern Country’”

OK.  Am i, then, likely to dig Faron Young, Conway Twitty, or Hank Williams?  Does that preclude me from liking Keith Urban because he’s “Modern”?  And, hey, where does Bluegrass fit in?  Is that “Classic Country”, or does it pre-date “Classic Country”?  What about “New Bluegrass” or “New Alternative”?  Is that “Country” at all?

I’ll cut this line of rhetoric here for your sake, but let me tell you, i could go on like this for a long long while.

I maintain that trying to solve the Genre Dilemma by introducing more and more splinter genres is exactly the wrong approach.  That our brains seem to require classification at any cost to the truth does not mean that we must be slaves to such delusion.  And yet, at this point in the discussion, it should be mentioned that voyaging into the realms of complete individualistic subjectivity is also dangerous and equally unrealistic.  In other words, to say that the words “Country Music” are so obtuse that they’re meaningless is as much a fallacy as the tendency to sub-genre ourselves into the sanitarium.

The foundation of language is communication, and, clearly, if you say “Country Music” to someone you are communicating something very real.  What comes to their mind is undoubtedly different than what comes to your mind (unless they’re your identical twin, and even then it’s fair to say that there would be differences, minute though they may be), but it IS communicating a certain block of ideas and experiences to the other person.  So the phrase has meaning; it communicates a “real” set of images, sounds, names, memories, and emotions.

And there are grey areas, aren’t there.  Examples are abundant.  Is “Country Music” an accent?  Is it steel guitar in the background?  Is it “rootsy” lyrical content?  Is it a chord progression?  A sparkly jacket?  A cowboy hat?  A belt buckle?  An American flag?  A Confederate flag?!?  Is it where you were born, or where you grew up?

IS THIS COUNTRY MUSIC?

HOW ABOUT THIS?

THIS?

TOTALLY, RIGHT?

CLEARLY

BUT HOW ABOUT THIS?

OR THESE?

EH?

SURELY

GRATUITOUS, I KNOW

THIS TOO?

HOW ABOUT THIS?

Ok, that may be stretching it a tad   But i think you get my point.

HOW DO I RECONCILE THIS

AND THIS

being in the same genre? I love both songs, but i defy you to make a case that they belong next to each other.  And yet i would classify all of those songs as “Country”, even if they don’t all come from “Country Artists”.

I think i’ll leave you with one last clip.  He may be from Liverpool, but you can’t tell me that this guy doesn’t know “Country Music”, whatever that is.  Maybe i should ask him to explain to me what “Country” is supposed to mean.  I’m not sure i quite get it, after all:

I’ll have a blue, blue blue blue christmas

I know, i know . . it’s been a long while.  A flurry of blogs followed directly by the white-noise hum of e-silence for nearly two months.  What can i say other than: That’s kind-of how i run.  I’ll read like a maniac for a couple of months and then not pick up another book for weeks, and that same pattern of behavior marks nearly every aspect of my life.  Movie watching, songwriting, gaming, cycling, cooking . . you name it.  Go figure

:shrug:

Anyhoo, i’ll try to be better about my consistency in the future.  I really do enjoy writing these an awful lot, and i ought to try harder to keep up.   It’s not like i have a dearth of random complaints, rants, and recommendations to offer to you all.  Ask anyone i associate with regularly; i run at the mouth so frequently that my friends nicknamed me Jesse Owens.

:drumrollrimshot:

No but seriously folks, i’ll be here all week.  And don’t forget to tip your waiter.

Alright, enough of this tomfoolery.  Here’s a classic for you all for the holidays.   Can’t go wrong with The King, baby.  Merry Wintereenmas, or Ludachristmas, or Mithras Day, or Winter Solstice, or whatever you traditionally rock at this time of the year.

Eat, Drink, and Be Merry;

tony

Perfection

“You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last.
But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast.
Yonder stands your orphan with his gun,
Crying like a fire in the sun.
Look out the saints are comin’ through
And it’s all over now, Baby Blue.

The highway is for gamblers, better use your sense.
Take what you have gathered from coincidence.
The empty-handed painter from your streets
Is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets.
This sky, too, is folding under you
And it’s all over now, Baby Blue.

All your seasick sailors, they are rowing home.
All your reindeer armies, are all going home.
The lover who just walked out your door
Has taken all his blankets from the floor.
The carpet, too, is moving under you
And it’s all over now, Baby Blue.

Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you.
Forget the dead you’ve left, they will not follow you.
The vagabond who’s rapping at your door
Is standing in the clothes that you once wore.
Strike another match, go start anew
And it’s all over now, Baby Blue.”

- Bob Dylan – “It’s All Over Now Baby Blue” – Bringing It All Back Home (1965)

*

Fucking perfection.  And that’s all i have to say about that.  Enjoy.

Talent

Tonight i watched a teenage girl of indeterminate age and identity hold a crowd of maybe a thousand people (or more) completely captive and breathless with nothing but a guitar and her voice.  I was/am fucking IMPRESSED, as in, the moment has left a serious and deep impression upon me.  One that is not likely to disappear any time soon . . maybe not ever.  An indelible mark on my heart and mind, if you will.

This was at the Rocklin High School Halloween Concert/Variety Show/Fundraiser-thingy, Rocklin being a smallish, newish, reasonably upscale suburb in the foothills east of Sacramento, and the home of my beloved Aunt Julie, Uncle Joe, and their two kids, Jacob and Mallory.  My cousin Jacob currently attends Rocklin High, which accounts for my appearance at this event.  Jake is a very nice kid; extremely smart and absurdly talented.  He plays in the orchestra, the jazz band, the choir, and god knows what else, in addition to being tasked with high-level academia, and playing goalie on the soccer team.  He’s been wowing us (the family) with his piano skillz since he was too small to reach the pedals, and we always jump right into a musically centered conversation when we see each other.  Like i said: Great kid.  Thus i was happy to show up for his concert tonight, to support him and to listen to whatever he and his peers had to offer-up.

The event was full of highs and lows.  Lows included amplification issues (the levels were all over the place, act to act, and it had a real impact on a few of the performances . . they clearly did not do a thorough soundcheck), inexplicable confusion with the schedule (the jazz band’s performance, which i was really looking forward to, was almost completely ruined by an ill-timed and apparently unplanned intermission), having to wait in line for a solid half-hour just to get in (WTF?), impossible seating (whomever’s idea it was to hold the event in the gymnasium SANS CHAIRS needs to be replaced as events coordinator, or at least given a stern talking-to), and inconsistency in the level of preparedness and quality in terms of the performances (a few of the acts were pretty terrible and out of place, and any reasonable director would have cut them out without hesitation).  Oh, and it was looooonnnnnnggggg.  Like, uber-long.  WAY too long.  Especially when you’re sitting on hardwood bleachers.  However, it’s a high school production, and thus i am very willing to overlook a lot of that.  It comes with the territory, does it not?

Oh, and of course, there is one last low, one i can not forgive: They didn’t bother to hand out a program.  That’s a first for me.  Here we have a newish school, in a reasonably affluent neighborhood, that clearly is overflowing with materials and resources (paper, computers, and copy machines included, i would have to imagine), and they didn’t give us a fucking program.  Why is this a big deal?  Well, first of all, it’s customary.  I was in the concert and jazz bands when i was in school, and there was always a program.  Even our crapptastic grade school concerts came with programs.  It’s standard.  Secondly, it’s a big deal because with no program you have no way of timing the event.  You can’t figure out when your kid (or relative, or friend) is going to be on, and you have no idea, during the course of it, how much longer it’s going to take, etc.  That’s annoying, to say the least, as pacing is key at these kinds of things.  Lastly, and most importantly, no program means that you don’t know WHO is playing WHAT.  I knew the name of exactly one performer tonight, that of my cousin.  That means that unless you already knew the person performing, the performer was not, and did not, get any credit whatsoever for their performance, good or bad.  Obviously the less-than-stellar acts are happy to remain anonymous, but here i am blogging away about this event, which means that there were certainly noteworthy and commendable aspects of it, and i have no idea who to give credit to.  And to think, all this because some dumbarse director or coordinator couldn’t figure out how to make a copied and folded piece of paper to distribute at the door.  That’s a major Fail, right there, and if i’d have been one of the student performers tonight, i’d be livid about it.  Ok, ok . . maybe not livid.  But pissy!  Definitely pissy.

Moving on.

The highs were, indeed, lofty.  First and foremost, Jake did very well, as we knew he would.  The choir did a pretty awesome rendition of one of the songs from Sweeney Todd and the jazz band (from what i heard through the talking and general disarray that took place during their performance) was quite good on their tune.  Also, there were several acts that were easily performing on a nearly professional level, and really, who expects that out of kids?  A couple of the dance groups were VERY impressive (and this from someone who doesn’t like or generally appreciate dance, at all).  There was a lovely orchestral piece at the beginning of the show that was gentle and well-played, and touched the whole thing off wonderfully.  A very talented young man played an original piece on the keyboard (there’s another thing that ticked me off: They couldn’t wheel the damn piano into the gym?  What the fuck is that all about?!  When i was a teenage band kid i was regularly called-upon to help haul pianos up and down stairs, in and out of gyms/theaters/auditoriums/etc, and a keyboard does NOT a piano make . . but i digress).  A few of the Halloween-themed skits by the Emcees were funny and entertaining (many were not, but i felt they got better as the night went on).  There was a stunning (yes, STUNNING) duet by a couple playing The Frankenstein Monster and His Bride serenading each other that literally gave me chills (those two kids are destined for stardom if they seek it, and i really mean that . . they were better singers than several professionals i’ve seen live over the years, and they even walked and moved according to the zombified roles they were playing, while singing magnificently all the while).  And, of course, there was this girl.

They didn’t hand out programs, so i can’t tell you her name.  When i asked my cousin afterwards, he didn’t even know who she was (and he, presumably, knows everyone associated with the music department to some degree), which reminds me of a short anecdote that i shall recount in a minute.  The lobby, after the show was over, was full of parents, relatives, and students, talking to/congratulating the performers, and i heard the buzz all around me, in every corner of the room.  It was the same general conversation going on 50 times at once in the lobby alone, and it went something like this:

Parent/Relative/Friend [big smile on their face] – You did a great job!  I loved your part!  Were you happy with how it went?

Performer [tired but also smiling] – Yeah, thanks!  I’m glad you came!  I thought it went . .

Parent/Relative/Friend [interrupting excitedly] – Yeah, yeah!  So, listen, who was that girl?  You know, the one with the guitar?  She was amazing!  I just couldn’t believe how good she was!

Performer [unsure but also excited] – Uhm, yeah, i’m not sure.  She was really good though, huh.  I’ve never seen her before.  But yeah.  Did you like my song?

Parent/Relative/Friend [oblivious to the feelings of their principle] – Yyyyeahhhh.  It was good honey/dude/man!  It was good . . . But, yeah, i could’ve listened to that girl sing all night!  She was unbelievable!

I shit you not, that conversation must have taken place 800 times or more in the last 3 hours.  That’s how special this girl was, and she only sang two songs!  TWO!!!

The anecdote i promised a moment ago:  I don’t know how it went at your high schools, but at mine, the band played at graduation.  We sat in the orchestra pit at The Memorial Auditorium every spring, and we watched that year’s class of seniors walk the walk as we played “Pomp and Circumstance” until our lips and embouchures threatened to mutiny and flee the building with or without us.  Now, every year it was a tradition at graduation for a few bold seniors to take the stage mid-ceremony and sing something (a capella, or otherwise).  It was as traditional as the valedictorian’s speech, and the principal’s toupee’, and nearly every one of these performances was . . well . . not fantastic.  Don’t get me wrong, they usually weren’t terrible, but for the most part i wasn’t too blown-away.

Then came my junior year, which marked my third graduation as a pit-dwelling “Pomp and Circumstance” performer.  I knew the kids in that class very well . . maybe even better than i knew the kids in my own class.  A lot of my closest friends were walking that year, and i watched as a few of them went up and made speeches and played tunes.  Anyways, so the ceremony was in full-swing, proceeding nicely, when, to everyone’s surprise, up walks this guy that we all knew, but that none of us knew to be a musician of any sort.  He was a popular kid, affable and athletic, and i think he might have been involved with a drama production at some point, but never in a musical capacity.  I, and my buddies around me in the pit, was puzzled beyond puzzlement as to what business he could possibly have on the stage at that point.  He wasn’t class president, nor was he a special academic award winner of any sort.  We all immediately grabbed our programs (SEE!?!  PROGRAMS ARE OUR FRIENDS!), and after a glance down, our gazes shot right back up to the stage in shock, horror, and disbelief.

You see, in the program, it said that our buddy, the non-musician, was about to sing “Can You Feel The Love Tonight” by Elton John.  Our horror was doubly inspired, of course.  1) We didn’t want our friend to make a damn fool of himself in front of thousands of people, including his entire class and family.  And 2) We were not at all looking forward to hearing ANYONE’s rendition of that particular tired and overplayed number.  What happened next is, in the context of my post, easy enough to figure out.  Dude KILLED it.  A cappella.  I mean, he sang that song so well that somewhere out in jolly-ol’ England, Elton John himself got a fat chubby and didn’t even know why.  The performance was SO good, that it reminded every person in that hall exactly why they USED to like Elton John, and why they USED to think that The Lion King had one of the best soundtracks ever.  It gave us chills.  It dropped our jaws.  It made us cry (seriously, it did).  And the most amazing part was that NOBODY knew that this kid could sing a lick.  Well, i suppose someone knew.  But i was pretty close to the guy, and i had no idea, and my fellow bandies were in the same boat as I.  We stared at each other in disbelief, and when he finished every person in Memorial Auditorium shot up out of their seats in a frenzy of applause.  It was unreal.

So, as you have already figured, that memory came fresh and immediate to me this evening, and for good reason.  There was no standing ovation for the girl, her voice, and her guitar, but i think that’s largely because of the seating arrangements.  With all of us old fogies packed into the gym bleachers like oh-so-many sardines, i’m not sure it would even have been physically possible to give her such an ovation.  Too, i sensed a great deal of shock in the crowd as she wrapped-up, shock at the supreme quality, at the sheer TALENT that had made itself known to us all out of nowhere, and i think that shock hampered some in the audience in the volume and ferocity of their praise, ie. there were definitely people in my field of vision that were too visibly stunned by what they’d just heard to react until it was too late, and the girl had already bowed and walked-off, making room for the next act.

Have you ever seen a thousand people drop their jaws at once?  I have.  I’ve seen it at two different kinds of places: Sporting events (the Niners/Packers Wildcard Game that i attended in 1998 comes to mind, Young to Owens for the win with 3.6 seconds to go), and musical events (Tim Reynolds soloing on “All Along The Watchtower” at the Dave Matthews Band show on the 6th of last month comes to mind, playing with his teeth).  And i saw that same thing again tonight.  The difference, i think, between those other times and this evening, is that people go to an NFL Playoff Game or a DMB concert expecting magic.  A high-school Halloween variety show that the kids have only had six weeks or so to prepare for?  Not so much.

This girl didn’t write the two songs she sang.  I didn’t know either tune, but i’m confident that she didn’t pen them.  But you know what?  I’m equally confident that, given enough time and effort, someone with that level of talent can write albums worth of material.  The vocals were PERFECT.  Like, crystal clear, soft-yet piercing, enunciated-yet-melodious, soul-wrenching perfect.  And that was through a terrible mic, hooked-up to a crappy little amp!  It was just unREAL.  A moment of surpassing beauty and soulfulness.  The guitar work was simple rhythmic changes, not-flashy, but at the same time it was definitely better than i could have done, and i’ve been playing for 11 years, with 9 years of theory and musical performance experience before that.  She could be a professional.  Like, right now she could be in the studio, singing and playing and touring to packed houses, making a name for herself on the national stage (and beyond).  It wouldn’t suprise me to see her on Oprah tomorrow, right after the Korean nine-year-old that can play Chopin backwards and with his eyes closed.  She exudes that intangible gift that so many of us envy, and too few of us are born with.  That thing we call Talent, with a capital “T”.  All those other kids, with their years of violin tutors, and dance lessons, and tailored outfits, and pricey instruments that they’ll likely abandon within a few months of their graduations . . they were shown-up tonight by a girl in jeans, Converse All Stars, a stripey green t-shirt, and an acoustic-electric that couldn’t have cost more than five or six hundred bucks.  A girl that isn’t in the band, or the choir, or the dance squad, or the drama program.  An unknown.

I only wish i could tell you her name.

***

[The event was videotaped by a standing camera, so there is a slim chance i may be able to wrangle a tape or a youtube vid of this girl's performance, and if such a thing occurs, i will, of course, post it here immeadiately.]

“LMFAO” Stands for Laughing My Fucking Arse Off

more about “Saturday Night Live – Update Thursday…“, posted with vodpod

As the great Homer Simpson once said, “It’s funny ’cause it’s true!”

Uhhhhhhhhhmmmm . . . WOW

Apparently people in Clinics aren’t “innocent Americans”.  She’s a Christian, we all know this, so the question has to be, What ever happened to the Christian tenants regarding forgiveness? What about “The meek will inherit the Earth”? I guess she skipped those days in Sunday School.

The sad thing is that this isn’t even the worst i’ve heard out of her.  It’s sickening, and beyond the pale, but really . . what about her isn’t?

For the record, this footage is all you need to know about Sarah Palin:

Separation of Church and State?  Anyone?  Anyone?  Bueller?

Pray for the unification of companies?  Does anyone else think that’s a little shady?  Whatever, that’s not nearly the worst of it.

Look, we’re all free to believe what we wish, and that’s a freedom that i support and enjoy.  I have no problem with her evangelicism as long as it doesn’t affect me. The Vice President of The United States thinking that we’re carrying out “A Task That Is From God” in Iraq?  That would affect me, and it’s disturbing in the extreme.

I’m pretty sure that the founding fathers (deeply Christian members of that group, such as the incomparable John Adams, included) would not be too happy about the next potential Vice President being someone who thinks that killing upwards of 1,000,000 Iraqi civilians in a war for oil and private defense/construction profits is God’s Plan.

[Yes, they did start a revolution that lead directly to over 100,000 deaths, but A) That was a conflict that had an (arguably) reasonable and virtuous purpose, and B) Those casualties were almost all soldiers.  Clearly there is no parallel between the American War for Independence and the current U.S. Invasion of Iraq.  To see one would be to warp history beyond recognition.]

Sarah Palin, the woman who John McCain chose out of all the people in the entire country to be his running mate and to succeed him if his health went sour, believes, as is evidenced in that Wasilla Assembly of God footage (taken THIS YEAR, by the way), that our invasion of Iraq, which, let me say it once more, has killed upwards of ONE MILLION CIVILIANS, is THE WILL OF GOD.

And that is all you need to know about her.

*

*** None of the video footage posted here is ever edited, unless otherwise noted.  This is real and uncut, ladies and gentlemen. ***

*

EDIT: My friend Janet linked a good commentary about this business from the Huffington Post’s Lauren Sandler in the comments section below. In case some of you didn’t see it, here is a second link. It’s very good (and short, in case length is an obstacle for you), and definitely worth the read. Thanks Janet!

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lauren-sandler/in-the-last-days-of-the-e_b_137787.html

*

Forgive the brief lapse on my promise to lay off the political posts (and also for the grammatical errors, some of which i’ve now fixed).  More music reviews should be up in the next couple of days.

- tony