the best songs con’t: from the b sides

August 24, 2015

Back in the day – way back – my friends and I spent a few winters hanging around the Margate beach bars: dancing, drinking, singing, playing pool, and generally whooping it up. We had a one particularly favorite place and though I can’t quite remember the joint’s name I do remember the juke box.imgres-3

Five plays for a quarter. Maybe… something like that. We dropped a lot of quarters there and how many ever it was was a good deal since there wasn’t one bad track on that machine.

We all had our favorites. My beau played Mott the Hoople’s “All the Young Dudes” and “One of the Boys” to death; me, I couldn’t get enough of the “Child of the Moon,” It wouldn’t make my top ten Stones songs list today and I don’t think I’ve listened to since but back then it made me happy to hear it. And it made me happy when it popped into my head again after all these years. It’s not country, but it sure sounds like a fan.

ChIld of the Moon” is the B side to “Jumping Jack Flash.”

Are there B sides these days? I guess not. No b sides, no double A sides, no sides period. No sitting pouring over the cover art, no liner notes. So many reasons to appreciate coming up when I did. Would have been a real shame to miss out on getting to listen to records. Which is not the same as not getting to listen to music. Having the whole record thing was good, A sides, B sides, etc. etc. etc., but it’s really about the music besides which just because there’s no sides today’s listening scene offers new delights of its own.

Another B side single was The Beach Boys’ “God Only Knows” “Wouldn’t it Be Nice” was A.  Back in the day you could hold the 45 in your hands and flip it over and over and over, but you couldn’t get a digital download of the BBC Music CGI music-video cover for any of your devices.

Tags: , , , ,
Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a Comment »

the best songs

August 21, 2015

I was reading around in Nick Hornby’s “31 Songs” and it got me thinking about how some songs get into your head while some get into your soul. Then “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down”f rom Kristofferson shuffled up on my iPod reminding me that the best songs do both.

I first heard this recording in Marfa,Texas when I went down there with some good pals. We stayed at the Thunderbird where the rooms come equipped with turntables and the hotel makes its record collection available to guests. I took a few albums back to the room but l just couldn’t bring myself to listen to anything else.kriskristoffersonbeerforbreakfast1

Kristofferson’s voice: all reaching and gravely raspy, takes you straight down into the dark heart of “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down.” Listening to him you don’t doubt for a second that he’s been there done that more than one too many times. 

sunday-morning-coming-downMuch more so then the Ray Steven’s original 1969 release or even the John Cash recording which won him the Country Music Association Song of the Year Award in 1970. And that’s saying something.

I found a bittersweet and fitting Foo Fighters and Kris Kristofferson live performance from the 2005 Johnny Cash tribute on youtube noodling around on the internet.

There’s also some footage of a Sunday Mornin’ Kris Kristofferson and Johnny Cash duet from the Johnny Cash Christmas Show in 1978; this comes close but doesn’t quite get to the sobering bottom-hitting place of the “Kristofferson” track; it’s a visceral thing – through and through.

And yeah, it sounds country.

Cue it up. You’ll see.

the best songs to be continued….

Tags: , , ,
Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a Comment »

It don’t mean a thang if it ain’t got that twang.

April 24, 2014

greatest hits

Or what we think about when we think we’re thinking about country western music but wind up thinking about feminism instead.

 

Several times a day when I’m on my way to do this or that at my job, I pass by the MoMA gallery-hall installation of the Lynda Benglis video “Discrepancy.”  I’m not sure that I have a clear sense of the piece overall, but I’ve grown quite familiar with the foliage outside the apartment window, and familiar enough with the radio show soundtrack to have a favorite part: the part where there’s country western music playing on the radio.

And when I pass by during my favorite country western music spot, my first thought is what a grand old thing it is to hear country western music playing in the big house of modern art. house, and then that makes me think of something I seem to remember I heard or read in an interview with Twyla Tharp. In talking about the influence on her musical choices she mentions that growing up, her mother, a serious fan of western classical compositions – western meaning European, e.g. Beethoven, Mozart and co. – had a seriously dismissive attitude toward her father’s appreciation for country western – meaning Hank, Merle and singers of cowboy songs. That makes me think of something Louis Armstrong is said to have said when asked about what kind of music he played: “there’s only two kinds of music; good music and bad music, and I play the good kind.”

So you would think thinking about Louis Armstrong would be the ticket to a very different train of thought, and it’s true my mind is almost in the clear because I’m nearly out of earshot of the Benglis installation. But then I’m up on the Robert Heinecken exhibition. And that leads me to thinking what in the world am I supposed to make of the fact that a Benglis video (with good country western music) is installed in such close proximity to a gallery of Heinecken works? Because let’s face it, the nearness of these two – which is enough to blow a persons mind – can only lead to thinking about the Benglis Artforum ad. And thinking about how in some twisted alternate reality her add might have easily been one of his sampled or appropriated works.

And that would mean what exactly? I don’t know. I’ve never known what to make of the ad or his work. What I do know is that none of this goes through my mind; I don’t even spend a second thinking about any of it if I pass the video at any other point other than when George Jones and Tammy Wynette are singing “Let’s Build a World” Together on the radio.

 

To be continued……

 

Tags: , , , , ,
Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

Quiet on the set.

October 27, 2010

Please be quiet on the set, please. I’m watching “The American” here.


Some friends took me to see “The American” for my birthday. We thought we were going to a fast paced star-laced shoot’em up featuring  George Clooney.

I’m a big fan of action/adventure; love the fast chase, gun play, hand to hand, martial arts, parkour – all of it. I also love dialogue; banter, snappy repartee, long mysterious monologues, and lots of talk. “The American” as it turns out is a very, very slow moving story with very, very little dialogue.

We weren’t far into it when I thought “Well, I don’t’ know if I’m going to like this.” Then I thought “What’s this movie about anyway?” Then “Hmm, I wonder if this movie is about anything.” Finally  I reminded myself that twelve hours earlier, at the start of my birthday day I’d made a decision to go with the “Life is good, I have all the time in the world.” motto as opposed to the “Oh my god, time’s fast running out, and what the hell am I doing with my life?” motto, and decided to quiet down and just watch and see.

The filmmaker,  Anton Corbjin is better known for his still photography work so with that in mind I decided to watch the movie though eyes I normally reserve for looking at pictures on gallery walls. Once I quieted down with my still image eyes at the helm I was happy to sit in the back row of the multiplex enjoying my birthday popcorn watching the film go by. The landscape of “The American” is as much made of the internal life of Jack, Clooney’s character, as the external world of Abruzzo, where Jack is hiding out.  Both are quietly and even magically compelling in their own special way.

There’s not much dialogue, hardly any in fact, though in this case hardly any might actually be too much. Words and dialogue fast become superfluous with Corbjin and his composer Herbert Grönemeyer, shepherding us through the story like angels shepherding souls off to a some new mysterious dimension. I found myself wishing  he’d cut every bit of the dialogue.

I’ve never gotten the whole silent film thing, but watching “The American” I was starting to. It’s not clear that George Clooney has the chops for silent film, but Corbjin and Herbert Grönemeyer definitely do. Grönemeyer’s soundtrack is sublime – the perfect companion to Corbjin’s vision and perfectly framed imagery.

The thriller storyline is a little thin, though just about near enough to carry it. And there are some problems with the characters –  the kind that stop an already slow story dead in its tracks, particularly with the female characters.

The film asks us to believe that Jack is such a skilled  lover that after a couple sessions with him, Clara, the lovely local prostitute, quits the biz. The sex scenes are sexy it’s true, and despite the character’s denial he is obviously good with his hands, but without casting any shadows on George Clooney’s manly ways it’s time to let that one go.

“The American” is  flawed. But isn’t that the point? Isn’t it the flaw, the chink in the armor, that’s lets us  in? Isn’t Jack, a tired saddened solitary hit-man, in a far away land, lost and looking for the way out, looking for the way out precisely because out is the only way in to the place where meaning lives?

So accept the flaws, float along with the story, and Watching “The American” becomes a near transcendent place to be.

 

Tags: , , ,
Posted in Film Criticism | Leave a Comment »

I heard that.

October 20, 2010

I don’t know about you but I listen in on other people’s conversations. Not overtly, but cautiously and respectfully. I can because I’m a writer on the lookout for material.

You would think I’d be in luck what with all the constant cell phone use these days – but no. Interesting details are not the same thing as boring inanities. As far as eavesdropping for material goes, the age of information has turned out to mostly be the age of too much information.

“I’m five blocks away, four and half now.” Big deal, who needs or wants to hear that? Leaves me empty. Though if I had a nickel for every time I overheard that particular cell phone conversation I could, I don’t know – buy some really good material.

Then there’s “I’ll be home in five minutes.” Come on, you can’t wait five minutes to say “Honey, I’m home” in person?  I suppose it is possible that having to give the person you live with a warning every time you’re about to arrive home could suggest something interesting. I don’t know what exactly, but something along the lines of a backdoor man, or a sad secret desperate hope for a surprise party – a  little character window that could be interesting. But that’s me making up material and the point however is to find material – not have to actually make it up.

Fortunately people aren’t quite as insipidly boring when they’re face to face so if you steer clear of the solo cell phone acts there’s still the chance to hear something good walking down the street.

Walking downtown on lower Broadway I heard “Oh  right, I forgot you’ve got that Jolly Roger thing.” Now we’re talking!  I kept walking as if I hadn’t heard anything at all, and when I got a ways away I repeated it to myself to see if was a good as I thought; if it hooked me in.  It was and it did.

The next thing I know I’m chanting (lowly to myself) “Oh right I forgot you’ve got that Jolly Roger thing. Oh right, that Jolly Roger thing.” What Jolly Roger thing? What in the world could that possibly mean? Who knows, but whatever it is is there any chance it’s not at least a little bit perverse? No, right?  It might be the thing that makes you place that advance call to home. “ I’ll be home in five minutes, and there better not be any signs of your Jolly Roger thing when I get there.”

“I told him if you want the Wildcats you’re gonna have to through me first.” Heard that one from a thirty-something fellow on 6th Avenue in midtown. That’s a perfect  B movie moment in the middle of Manhattan. Who says something like that except a honor-defender of the hometown cheerleading squad? And who or what else calls themselves The Wildcats besides cheerleaders and bikers. A hipster dodge ball team maybe? Okay, so it’s not great, but see how it works to get the imagination going a little?

“Their perfect bodies were shaped like pens.” I heard that while riding the LIRR.  The reason it caught my ear was that it came from a ten year old explaining something or other to a seven year old.  I couldn’t’ for the life of me hear what he was talking about but he said it using his ‘I’m the older brother I know things you don’t know kid’ voice.  The unfortunate bad luck of  being shaped like a pen (I’m picturing something like a Mont Blanc knock-off) coupled with that protective tone nearly broke my heart. I could only hope they wer headed  toward redemption.

“I have nothing to do but await Perez’s call.” Heard that in a painting gallery at MoMA. My very first thought was “Yeah, and let me tell you when Perez is calling you better be answering.”  Buster. Or else. Perez? Trust me if you chant  “Perez is calling” in a low voice a half dozen times as your walking past the Rothko’s you’ll hear the intrigue. It’s one part romance one part danger. Perez,  no doubt is one smart and cunning dude. Or maybe not. Maybe he’s like that man with one black shoe, or….maybe… Perez is the man the other black shoe.

To me, that’s material. Like St. Elmo’s fire in the way it sparks the imagination. My only problem is that I get so attached to all the implied possibilities that I can’t bring myself to actually use any of them. They’re like those gifts I bought for someone else and then decide to keep for myself.

So I’m keeping my ears peeled, but not pinning my hopes on the cellular moment. Though… I’m working on a new play and  wondering if one of the characters doesn’t have a Jolly Roger thing. He easily might. And it is possible one character could be  five blocks away, then  four, then three,  but only if at two blocks she meets that damned mysterious Perez.

Tags: , ,
Posted in Writing | 1 Comment »

just can’t get no (art) connection

July 26, 2009

1e338c48e0c236b70428f944c0d5cb15

A kid, a girl of ten or so, stood in front of the Aernout Mik video screening outside Cafe 2 at MoMA hollering over and over “What is this? Somebody tell me what this is.”

My guess is her family had already gone into the Café, but putting first things first, she needed to know what the deal was with this video before she would go in. When no one answered her I finally said, “It’s a video, kind of like a movie, of different people doing different stuff.” “ Oh,” she said, “okay.”

Apparently that was enough for her, but then I thought wait a minute, is that really it? And yes, it is. All right, maybe there’s a ton more curatorial like stuff to be said about his videos, but it really boils down to some people doing some stuff – no more no less. Which is fine, but where’s the way in, and how does it connect?

I had a Chemistry teacher who taught me to look for the connection between all things and all things. He loved to relate issues of chemistry to everyday events and even though the only one I remember is reaction rate related to urban travel (ie; walking and taking the subway) he gave me a new way of being in the world: the one of trusting in connections and believing that there is no such thing as a completely closed system .

So what would he relate to film/video art that goes no where, that seems to have the purpose of never to arrive anywhere but nevertheless insists on taking long unwinding, or hardly winding, roads? I wonder.

I’ve passed by that Mik video on a number of occasions and I find myself not caring if the current images relate to previous images, not caring if they add up to anything but forget Mik for a moment, and take instead Warhol’s “Sleep” , the king of art video/ films never going anywhere – the 5 plus hours film of John Giorno sleeping.

Where’s the connection there?  I dont’ know but I’ve got a digital projector and a dvd player and a courtyard with a big wall and wouldn’t it be great to screen “Sleep” out there? I could run it in short spurts (like this youtube exerpt) or let it run continuously for the full 321 minutes .

I do get the overall part of the sixties connection since that was a time of finding the way, when it was useful, if not required, to go down endlessly long roads if only to see what was or wasn’t there. But now that we know that there’s no water route to the Pacific where does that leave us? Is the connection only to a meditation on connections. Or it it that it simply frees us to leave the magic of arrival behind, free to let film art / video art be object art?

Maybe.

Which brings to mind  stuff like the John Gerrard’s  work recently exhibited at Knoedler Project Space ….

TO BE CONTINUED

Posted in Uncategorized | 5 Comments »

Hello world!

July 4, 2009

Welcome to WordPress.com. This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment »