The International Percussion Collage Showcase, presented by the Kalamazoo College Music Department on Wednesday, February 25th, managed to be an intimate, educational, and inspiring event, despite being held in the FAB’s sometimes-cavernous Dalton Theater.
The event consisted of performances by four separate groups, each inspired by the percussion styles of four different cultures. Though each act presented was very distinct from the others in both style and sound, together the four gave the audience an excellent sampling of traditional percussion from around the world.
The Mridangam Ensemble, composed of members Anjelika Derhgawen K’12, Russell Becker K’09, and K community member Tom Nehil, performed first. Nehil also gave an introduction to the mridangam, which is a traditional Indian double sided-drum played for different sounds on each side. This “lesson” added to the informality of the showcase. It seemed an odd choice for the showcase’s first act, since the mridangam’s sound isn’t very loud and doesn’t immediately capture a listener’s attention. However, it was effective, as its flat, echo-y tones and the subtle harmonies of the two songs played drew the audience into a trance-like state and allowed listeners to be easily drawn in to what would become a more commanding concert by following acts.
The marimba duo that followed wasn’t quite that yet; however, this was certainly not a detriment. Students Esperanza Cantu K’11 and Cait Sherman K’09 gave an enrapturing, and haunting performance of two songs from Brazilian composer Ney Rosauro, entitled “Atirei o Pau no Gato” and “Todo o mundo passa.” The simple melodies and childlike wonder of the slower-paced songs shifted from major to minor with ease, and the musicians never missed a note. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case when the two women switched marimbas during the songs, causing abrupt, awkward pauses. Otherwise, the performance was flawless, and brought the audience still deeper into communion with the musical acts.
The showcase took a turn for the spiritual when Western Michigan University’s Brazilian Capoeira group took the stage. As the group’s leader explained, Capoeira is an Afro-Brazilian martial art practiced by South American slaves disguised to look like a dance.
What followed after the introduction was at times uplifting, trance-like, and at all times completely graceful on the part of the performers. The ten or so members of the group playfought, cartwheeled, and did headstands, accompanied by two berimbaus – bowlike instruments that sounded like sitars – and a bongo. It was strikingly beautiful, and as the group’s music and performance picked up speed and momentum toward the end, it was a perfect transition into the Kalamazoo Taiko Ensemble’s act.
The group, led by Kouri Akagi K’11, literally shook the seats of Dalton Theater with its two songs. As the twenty or so members of the ensemble, playing in groups of three around five drums, switched off during the first song, it really felt like a battle of the drums. However, it was easy to tell who the senior, more proficient members of the group were – these were the ones who played first and against each other. But, this was the only flaw in an outstanding. The booming, thunderous sounds of the taiko drums filled the ears, leaving an impression not soon to be forgotten.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Practical Eco-Friendly Products
Find the original article here.
I found this piece - and the ideas it details - really interesting, and something that could become quite important in the future. Superficially it looks like a review of Tom Szaky's new book, Revolution in a Bottle, but in reality it provides a good summary of what eco-capitalist Szaky does and how he started up his company. A small degree of analysis is provided in the article's conclusion.
Basically, his company, TerraCycle, creates green products out of what seems like waste. Worm castings (excrement) are used as fertilizer, among other things. What's interesting about this is the fact that it wasn't done simply for the purpose of being green, it was done because this was the cheapest, easiest way to make a profit. Additionally, these products are being sold in larger chains for the same price as regular, non-green products.
It's proof that you can efficiently make a green products and even turn a profit off of them, which is very encouraging while our economy's in the shape that it is.
I found this piece - and the ideas it details - really interesting, and something that could become quite important in the future. Superficially it looks like a review of Tom Szaky's new book, Revolution in a Bottle, but in reality it provides a good summary of what eco-capitalist Szaky does and how he started up his company. A small degree of analysis is provided in the article's conclusion.
Basically, his company, TerraCycle, creates green products out of what seems like waste. Worm castings (excrement) are used as fertilizer, among other things. What's interesting about this is the fact that it wasn't done simply for the purpose of being green, it was done because this was the cheapest, easiest way to make a profit. Additionally, these products are being sold in larger chains for the same price as regular, non-green products.
It's proof that you can efficiently make a green products and even turn a profit off of them, which is very encouraging while our economy's in the shape that it is.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
David Lynch: An Imaginative Force to be Reckoned With
Second draft of the final assignment, final edit.
Convoluted plots, mysterious occurrences, sex and death in their most bizarre forms; these have featured in almost every David Lynch movie since the filmmaker began his career with 1966’s short film “Six Men Getting Sick.”
One would think that Lynch’s mind, responsible for imagining and filming scenes such as a part of a man’s brain being made into pencil erasers and the discovery of a rotting human ear in the middle of a field, would be as full of torment and torture as the scenes themselves. It’s quite the opposite, in fact; Laurence Tirard, in his book “Moviemakers’ Master Class,” described Lynch as “one of the plainest, warmest, and most charming directors [he’d] ever met.”
Even so, his movies are often shocking with their high level of bizarre content; they both challenge viewers to interpret their many oddities and entertain audiences with a level of imagination not seen in most Hollywood pictures. As Franz Kafka wrote in a letter to his friend, journalist Oscar Pollak, “I think we ought to read only the kind of books that bite and sting us. If the book we are reading doesn’t shake us awake like a blow to the skull, why bother reading it in the first place? […] A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.” This is what Lynch has accomplished, for the film medium. His films leave viewers with questions, to which Lynch refuses to give straightforward answers.
Lynch planned to become a painter, studying at the Corcoran School of Art in Washington, D.C. and attempting a trip to Europe that failed after 15 days. While studying at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, he was drawn into film. There, still intending to make a career as a visual artist, Lynch made the short animated film “Six Men Getting Sick,” in 1966. It was projected onto one of his sculptures “to make it look as though the painting was alive,” as he said in Tirard’s “Masterclass” book. From there, he received several awards that allowed him to create a few more short films and begin filming his first feature, “Eraserhead,” in 1971.
“Eraserhead,” finally released in 1977, is a deeply personal film for Lynch; he has referred to it as his “Philadelphia story.” He wrote, directed, and edited the stark black and white film. His experiences while working in the city contributed to the film’s making; he lived in a dangerous, unpleasant part of the city, next to a morgue, where he was robbed twice, had windows shot out, and a car stolen. The bleak atmosphere Lynch felt in Philadelphia is present in the dark, industrial ambiance of “Eraserhead,” the story of Henry Spencer (played by frequent Lynch collaborator Jack Nance) and his attempts to escape from his girlfriend Mary and their mutant, alien-like baby.
In presentation, it’s highly surrealistic, and it’s a great illustration of Lynch’s surrealistic tendencies, which have continued throughout his filmmaking career. In one scene, the “baby” has gotten sick and is covered in small black sores; it’s highly reminiscent of a scene in “Un chien andalou,” the famed short Surrealist film created by Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dali, where ants unexpectedly appear in hand of one of the characters. “Eraserhead,” a more experimental, art house film than any of Lynch’s others, thus allowed him to find his own personal voice, and making way for more avant-garde filmmakers to follow.
This film in particular exhibits Lynch’s surrealistic tendencies, and this style can be seen in all of his films, even more commercial, mainstream movies such as “The Elephant Man” and “The Straight Story.” For example, at the beginning of the former film, an elephant tramples the mother of the titular character, but this isn’t shown in a typical way. We see shots of her face with shots of the attacking elephant superimposed over it, blurred together in what feels like a nightmarish hallucination.
Though Lynch has a recognizable style of his own, utilizing – among other trademarks – dark, claustrophobic lighting and ominous soundtracks (nearly all composed by frequent collaborator Angelo Badalamenti) he is capable of directing films more accessible to mainstream viewers, though this isn’t something he often chooses to do. His feature films “Dune,” “The Elephant Man,” and, to an extent, “The Straight Story,” were told in a straightforward, chronological fashion. While “Dune” flopped, the two others were commercially successful.
Lynch’s signature is clearly present in these films, though they’re more conventional than most of his movies. For example, at the beginning of “The Elephant Man,” an elephant tramples the mother of the titular character, but this isn’t shown in a typical way. We see shots of her face with shots of the attacking elephant superimposed over it, blurred together in what feels like a nightmarish hallucination. “Dune” features a scene where the main character Paul Atreides must hold his hand in a box that subjects it to excruciating pain, which is notably difficult to watch.
The fact that these films are more straightforward Lynch films doesn’t mean they don’t challenge viewers to think. “Elephant Man” tells the story of John Merrick, a man with elephantitis who’s treated as a circus freak; it forces the audience to introspect. “The Straight Story” is completely different, but through Alvin Straight’s odyssey across America to make amends with his past – conducted by John Deere riding mower – doesn’t allow viewers to simply shut off their brains while watching. Even these so-called more typical films exhibit a level of creativity not found in the average Hollywood film.
In an age where movies are largely made for profit, not to tell a thought-provoking, entertaining story, the film industry needs more directors like David Lynch. Directors with the ability to create films that shock and surprise us, with meaning sometimes difficult to grasp, without easy answers.
After all, as Kafka wrote to Pollak, “If the book we are reading doesn’t shake us awake like a blow to the skull, why bother reading it in the first place? To make us happy […]? [B]ooks that make us happy we could, in a pinch, also write ourselves.” Lynch has given us, from his personal experiences, films that no other individual could – “beauties that pierce like swords or burn like cold iron,” in the words of C.S. Lewis.
Convoluted plots, mysterious occurrences, sex and death in their most bizarre forms; these have featured in almost every David Lynch movie since the filmmaker began his career with 1966’s short film “Six Men Getting Sick.”
One would think that Lynch’s mind, responsible for imagining and filming scenes such as a part of a man’s brain being made into pencil erasers and the discovery of a rotting human ear in the middle of a field, would be as full of torment and torture as the scenes themselves. It’s quite the opposite, in fact; Laurence Tirard, in his book “Moviemakers’ Master Class,” described Lynch as “one of the plainest, warmest, and most charming directors [he’d] ever met.”
Even so, his movies are often shocking with their high level of bizarre content; they both challenge viewers to interpret their many oddities and entertain audiences with a level of imagination not seen in most Hollywood pictures. As Franz Kafka wrote in a letter to his friend, journalist Oscar Pollak, “I think we ought to read only the kind of books that bite and sting us. If the book we are reading doesn’t shake us awake like a blow to the skull, why bother reading it in the first place? […] A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.” This is what Lynch has accomplished, for the film medium. His films leave viewers with questions, to which Lynch refuses to give straightforward answers.
Lynch planned to become a painter, studying at the Corcoran School of Art in Washington, D.C. and attempting a trip to Europe that failed after 15 days. While studying at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, he was drawn into film. There, still intending to make a career as a visual artist, Lynch made the short animated film “Six Men Getting Sick,” in 1966. It was projected onto one of his sculptures “to make it look as though the painting was alive,” as he said in Tirard’s “Masterclass” book. From there, he received several awards that allowed him to create a few more short films and begin filming his first feature, “Eraserhead,” in 1971.
“Eraserhead,” finally released in 1977, is a deeply personal film for Lynch; he has referred to it as his “Philadelphia story.” He wrote, directed, and edited the stark black and white film. His experiences while working in the city contributed to the film’s making; he lived in a dangerous, unpleasant part of the city, next to a morgue, where he was robbed twice, had windows shot out, and a car stolen. The bleak atmosphere Lynch felt in Philadelphia is present in the dark, industrial ambiance of “Eraserhead,” the story of Henry Spencer (played by frequent Lynch collaborator Jack Nance) and his attempts to escape from his girlfriend Mary and their mutant, alien-like baby.
In presentation, it’s highly surrealistic, and it’s a great illustration of Lynch’s surrealistic tendencies, which have continued throughout his filmmaking career. In one scene, the “baby” has gotten sick and is covered in small black sores; it’s highly reminiscent of a scene in “Un chien andalou,” the famed short Surrealist film created by Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dali, where ants unexpectedly appear in hand of one of the characters. “Eraserhead,” a more experimental, art house film than any of Lynch’s others, thus allowed him to find his own personal voice, and making way for more avant-garde filmmakers to follow.
This film in particular exhibits Lynch’s surrealistic tendencies, and this style can be seen in all of his films, even more commercial, mainstream movies such as “The Elephant Man” and “The Straight Story.” For example, at the beginning of the former film, an elephant tramples the mother of the titular character, but this isn’t shown in a typical way. We see shots of her face with shots of the attacking elephant superimposed over it, blurred together in what feels like a nightmarish hallucination.
Though Lynch has a recognizable style of his own, utilizing – among other trademarks – dark, claustrophobic lighting and ominous soundtracks (nearly all composed by frequent collaborator Angelo Badalamenti) he is capable of directing films more accessible to mainstream viewers, though this isn’t something he often chooses to do. His feature films “Dune,” “The Elephant Man,” and, to an extent, “The Straight Story,” were told in a straightforward, chronological fashion. While “Dune” flopped, the two others were commercially successful.
Lynch’s signature is clearly present in these films, though they’re more conventional than most of his movies. For example, at the beginning of “The Elephant Man,” an elephant tramples the mother of the titular character, but this isn’t shown in a typical way. We see shots of her face with shots of the attacking elephant superimposed over it, blurred together in what feels like a nightmarish hallucination. “Dune” features a scene where the main character Paul Atreides must hold his hand in a box that subjects it to excruciating pain, which is notably difficult to watch.
The fact that these films are more straightforward Lynch films doesn’t mean they don’t challenge viewers to think. “Elephant Man” tells the story of John Merrick, a man with elephantitis who’s treated as a circus freak; it forces the audience to introspect. “The Straight Story” is completely different, but through Alvin Straight’s odyssey across America to make amends with his past – conducted by John Deere riding mower – doesn’t allow viewers to simply shut off their brains while watching. Even these so-called more typical films exhibit a level of creativity not found in the average Hollywood film.
In an age where movies are largely made for profit, not to tell a thought-provoking, entertaining story, the film industry needs more directors like David Lynch. Directors with the ability to create films that shock and surprise us, with meaning sometimes difficult to grasp, without easy answers.
After all, as Kafka wrote to Pollak, “If the book we are reading doesn’t shake us awake like a blow to the skull, why bother reading it in the first place? To make us happy […]? [B]ooks that make us happy we could, in a pinch, also write ourselves.” Lynch has given us, from his personal experiences, films that no other individual could – “beauties that pierce like swords or burn like cold iron,” in the words of C.S. Lewis.
Monday, March 9, 2009
David Lynch: An Individual Talent in Hollywood
Convoluted plots, mysterious occurrences, and sex and death in their most bizarre forms have featured in almost every David Lynch movie since the filmmaker began his career with 1966’s short film “Six Men Getting Sick.” One would think that Lynch’s mind, which has been responsible for imagining and filming scenes such as a man’s brain being made into pencil erasers and the discovery of a rotting human ear in the middle of a field, would be as full of torment and torture as the scenes themselves. His films have odd subject matter, and you might expect the director himself to be as weird as his movies are.
It’s quite the opposite, in fact; Laurence Tirard, in his book “Moviemakers’ Master Class,” described him as “one of the plainest, warmest, and most charming directors [he’d] ever met.” His personal life isn’t anywhere near as splashy or public as other directors like Woody Allen or Quentin Tarantino, the former infamous for marrying his former lover Mia Farrow’s adopted daughter Soon-Yi Previn, and the latter notorious for spitting on a reporter at the 1997 Oscars.
Born January 20, 1946, in Missoula, Mont., at first glance Lynch’s upbringing seems as American as apple pie. His family moved all over the country due to his father Donald’s job as a research scientist. The majority of the areas were small towns, settings that show up frequently in Lynch’s work, including feature film “Blue Velvet” and ABC television drama “Twin Peaks.” Lynch was a Boy Scout and received its highest rank, Eagle Scout, as well as serving as an usher for John F. Kennedy’s presidential inauguration at age fifteen. Even in later life, he remained rather straight-laced: though Dennis Hopper’s character, Frank Booth, in “Blue Velvet” swears profusely, never once was Lynch heard to utter any of Booth’s obscenities himself.
He planned to become a painter, studying at the Corcoran School of Art in Washington, D.C. and attempting a trip to Europe, but eventually found himself drawn into film while studying at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts. There, still intending to make a career out of being an artist in the more traditional sense, Lynch made a short animated film, called “Six Men Getting Sick,” to be projected onto one of his sculptures in 1966. “[T]he idea was to make it look as though the painting was alive,” Lynch has said. From there, he received several awards that made it possible for him to create a few more short films and begin filming his first feature, “Eraserhead,” in 1971.
“Eraserhead,” finally released in 1977, is a deeply personal film for Lynch; he has referred to it as his “Philadelphia story.” He wrote, directed, and edited the stark, black and white, film. Everything he experienced while working in the town contributed to the film’s making; he lived in a dangerous, unpleasant part of the city, and the film reflects that. It’s the story of Henry Spencer, played by Jack Nance, and his interactions with as well as his attempts to escape from his girlfriend Mary and their mutant, alien-like baby.
In its presentation, it’s highly surrealistic – at one point, a miniature chicken which Jack is attempting to carve for his girlfriend’s family starts to move its legs up and down of its own accord and begins spewing dark fluid from its abdominal cavity. Spencer also fantasizes about a lady within his radiator with cheeks abnormally puffy, who sings to him and stomps on creatures that look nearly identical to the mutant baby.
In one scene, the “baby” gets sick and is covered in small black sores; it’s reminiscent of a scene in “Un chien andalou,” the famed Surrealist created by Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dali, where ants unexpectedly appear in hand of one of the characters. As such, “Eraserhead” allowed Lynch to find his own personal voice, and paved the way for more avant-garde filmmakers to follow.
This film in particular exhibits Lynch’s surrealistic tendencies, and this style can be seen in all of his films, even more commercial, mainstream movies such as “The Elephant Man” and “The Straight Story.” For example, at the beginning of the former film, the mother of the titular character is trampled by an elephant, but this isn’t shown in a typical way. We see shots of her face with shots of the attacking elephant superimposed over it, blurred together in what seems to be a hallucination.
Though Lynch clearly has a style of his own, utilizing dark, claustrophobic lighting and ominous soundtracks – nearly all composed by frequent collaborator Angelo Badalamenti – he is certainly able to direct films more accessible to mainstream viewers, though this isn’t something he often likes to do. This is exemplified by his feature films “Dune,” “The Elephant Man,” and, to an extent, “The Straight Story.” These movies were told in a straightforward, chronological fashion, and were both commercially successful.
Lynch has been of great importance to the filmmaking industry since he started filming in 1966. For the most part, he writes his own films, thus giving him the power to tell his own stories, share his own visions with his audience. He’s significant because throughout his career, he’s fought to make films according to what he wants to do, without studio intervention.
The few times he’s gone astray from his original ideas, he’s greatly regretted it. In his television series, “Twin Peaks,” he planned never to reveal the identity of Laura Palmer’s murderer, but in the end was forced to do so by studio heads. He then lost interest in the show and it was canceled soon after. Additionally, Lynch directed “Dune” without having final authority about what would stay in the film, and “was so damaged by the result that it took […] three years before [he] could make another film.”
This is why Lynch advises new directors to never “go against your own pleasure and your own vision” in making a film, and never to try to please everyone. Though Lynch isn’t as odd or flashy as other directors in Hollywood today, he is unique in letting his films speak for themselves, letting audiences determine their meanings for themselves, without directorial comment. In this respect, and for his bizarre yet wonderful films, he’s truly made a lasting impact on audiences, other filmmakers, and even Hollywood for good.
It’s quite the opposite, in fact; Laurence Tirard, in his book “Moviemakers’ Master Class,” described him as “one of the plainest, warmest, and most charming directors [he’d] ever met.” His personal life isn’t anywhere near as splashy or public as other directors like Woody Allen or Quentin Tarantino, the former infamous for marrying his former lover Mia Farrow’s adopted daughter Soon-Yi Previn, and the latter notorious for spitting on a reporter at the 1997 Oscars.
Born January 20, 1946, in Missoula, Mont., at first glance Lynch’s upbringing seems as American as apple pie. His family moved all over the country due to his father Donald’s job as a research scientist. The majority of the areas were small towns, settings that show up frequently in Lynch’s work, including feature film “Blue Velvet” and ABC television drama “Twin Peaks.” Lynch was a Boy Scout and received its highest rank, Eagle Scout, as well as serving as an usher for John F. Kennedy’s presidential inauguration at age fifteen. Even in later life, he remained rather straight-laced: though Dennis Hopper’s character, Frank Booth, in “Blue Velvet” swears profusely, never once was Lynch heard to utter any of Booth’s obscenities himself.
He planned to become a painter, studying at the Corcoran School of Art in Washington, D.C. and attempting a trip to Europe, but eventually found himself drawn into film while studying at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts. There, still intending to make a career out of being an artist in the more traditional sense, Lynch made a short animated film, called “Six Men Getting Sick,” to be projected onto one of his sculptures in 1966. “[T]he idea was to make it look as though the painting was alive,” Lynch has said. From there, he received several awards that made it possible for him to create a few more short films and begin filming his first feature, “Eraserhead,” in 1971.
“Eraserhead,” finally released in 1977, is a deeply personal film for Lynch; he has referred to it as his “Philadelphia story.” He wrote, directed, and edited the stark, black and white, film. Everything he experienced while working in the town contributed to the film’s making; he lived in a dangerous, unpleasant part of the city, and the film reflects that. It’s the story of Henry Spencer, played by Jack Nance, and his interactions with as well as his attempts to escape from his girlfriend Mary and their mutant, alien-like baby.
In its presentation, it’s highly surrealistic – at one point, a miniature chicken which Jack is attempting to carve for his girlfriend’s family starts to move its legs up and down of its own accord and begins spewing dark fluid from its abdominal cavity. Spencer also fantasizes about a lady within his radiator with cheeks abnormally puffy, who sings to him and stomps on creatures that look nearly identical to the mutant baby.
In one scene, the “baby” gets sick and is covered in small black sores; it’s reminiscent of a scene in “Un chien andalou,” the famed Surrealist created by Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dali, where ants unexpectedly appear in hand of one of the characters. As such, “Eraserhead” allowed Lynch to find his own personal voice, and paved the way for more avant-garde filmmakers to follow.
This film in particular exhibits Lynch’s surrealistic tendencies, and this style can be seen in all of his films, even more commercial, mainstream movies such as “The Elephant Man” and “The Straight Story.” For example, at the beginning of the former film, the mother of the titular character is trampled by an elephant, but this isn’t shown in a typical way. We see shots of her face with shots of the attacking elephant superimposed over it, blurred together in what seems to be a hallucination.
Though Lynch clearly has a style of his own, utilizing dark, claustrophobic lighting and ominous soundtracks – nearly all composed by frequent collaborator Angelo Badalamenti – he is certainly able to direct films more accessible to mainstream viewers, though this isn’t something he often likes to do. This is exemplified by his feature films “Dune,” “The Elephant Man,” and, to an extent, “The Straight Story.” These movies were told in a straightforward, chronological fashion, and were both commercially successful.
Lynch has been of great importance to the filmmaking industry since he started filming in 1966. For the most part, he writes his own films, thus giving him the power to tell his own stories, share his own visions with his audience. He’s significant because throughout his career, he’s fought to make films according to what he wants to do, without studio intervention.
The few times he’s gone astray from his original ideas, he’s greatly regretted it. In his television series, “Twin Peaks,” he planned never to reveal the identity of Laura Palmer’s murderer, but in the end was forced to do so by studio heads. He then lost interest in the show and it was canceled soon after. Additionally, Lynch directed “Dune” without having final authority about what would stay in the film, and “was so damaged by the result that it took […] three years before [he] could make another film.”
This is why Lynch advises new directors to never “go against your own pleasure and your own vision” in making a film, and never to try to please everyone. Though Lynch isn’t as odd or flashy as other directors in Hollywood today, he is unique in letting his films speak for themselves, letting audiences determine their meanings for themselves, without directorial comment. In this respect, and for his bizarre yet wonderful films, he’s truly made a lasting impact on audiences, other filmmakers, and even Hollywood for good.
Monday, February 23, 2009
The 2008 Oscars; Taking Some Hints from the Grammys?
This year’s Oscars were different from any show previous. The divergence was clear – this program had more music than ever before. Perhaps in an imitation of this year’s Grammys, which also had the most musical performances in its history, the Oscars had a penchant for bringing music back, in a bid to attract more viewers to a more song and dance oriented spectacle.
The Oscars were surprising in several other ways as well. Hugh Jackman, most famed for his turn as the X-Men mutant superhero Wolverine, exhibited none of that super masculine aura, instead offering a lighthearted, musically inspired side.
Surprisingly entertaining, he added to the event’s spectacle by singing, dancing, and joking his way through the awards ceremony. As he sang in the show’s opening number, “[N]o recession can stop my confession, or silence my song.” While Jackman was onstage, nothing did, though he was seen relatively little during the program compared to hosts of previous years.
The show was different from previous Oscars in other ways, which worked to both advantage and disadvantage. In an attempt to attract more viewers and keep them glued to the screen, as well as prevent the program from becoming stale and boring over the years, these Oscars featured more musical performances than any other.
Jackman sang and danced in both his opening number with Anne Hathaway, and a number dedicated to the return of the musical, which featured the young couples from 2008’s “Mamma Mia!” and teen hit “High School Musical 3.” Though these were well done, they also unfortunately added to the runtime of the show, making the creators of the Oscars break their promise of keeping the show under three and a half hours.
A medley of the three songs nominated for Best Song was a highlight, featuring exceptional performances from John Legend and A.R. Rahman. Choreography of the dancers in the background added to the sights and sounds of the whole affair. This worked to wake a sleepy viewer up in the midst of commercials and drawn-out presenters.
Celebrity musical accompaniment was again used to mixed effect during the “In Memoriam” segment, which paid tribute to those in the filmmaking industry who passed away during 2008. Queen Latifah sang an excellent rendition of “I’ll Be Seeing You,” which was neither overwrought nor underdone. However, it distracted from the simplicity of the memorial montage, making it more about Latifah’s performance than the people being remembered. At times, it was difficult to make out names on the screen or see the figures because of the zoomed out camera angle.
There were no real surprises in the awards themselves, however. Danny Boyle’s “Slumdog Millionaire” swept, taking eight awards, including those for Best Picture, Director, Cinematography, and Adapted Screenplay. As expected, Heath Ledger won Best Supporting Actor for his outstanding performance in “The Dark Knight;” Sean Penn and Kate Winslet were no surprises in the Best Actor and Actress categories. The only small departure from what was expected was in the Foreign-Language Film category, where Japan’s “Departures” trumped Israel’s “Waltz With Bashir.”
The Oscars this year were charmingly surprising in terms of musical influence. But overall, the show and spectacle came across as overblown. In today’s tough economic times, the Academy might have chosen a more modest approach.
The Oscars were surprising in several other ways as well. Hugh Jackman, most famed for his turn as the X-Men mutant superhero Wolverine, exhibited none of that super masculine aura, instead offering a lighthearted, musically inspired side.
Surprisingly entertaining, he added to the event’s spectacle by singing, dancing, and joking his way through the awards ceremony. As he sang in the show’s opening number, “[N]o recession can stop my confession, or silence my song.” While Jackman was onstage, nothing did, though he was seen relatively little during the program compared to hosts of previous years.
The show was different from previous Oscars in other ways, which worked to both advantage and disadvantage. In an attempt to attract more viewers and keep them glued to the screen, as well as prevent the program from becoming stale and boring over the years, these Oscars featured more musical performances than any other.
Jackman sang and danced in both his opening number with Anne Hathaway, and a number dedicated to the return of the musical, which featured the young couples from 2008’s “Mamma Mia!” and teen hit “High School Musical 3.” Though these were well done, they also unfortunately added to the runtime of the show, making the creators of the Oscars break their promise of keeping the show under three and a half hours.
A medley of the three songs nominated for Best Song was a highlight, featuring exceptional performances from John Legend and A.R. Rahman. Choreography of the dancers in the background added to the sights and sounds of the whole affair. This worked to wake a sleepy viewer up in the midst of commercials and drawn-out presenters.
Celebrity musical accompaniment was again used to mixed effect during the “In Memoriam” segment, which paid tribute to those in the filmmaking industry who passed away during 2008. Queen Latifah sang an excellent rendition of “I’ll Be Seeing You,” which was neither overwrought nor underdone. However, it distracted from the simplicity of the memorial montage, making it more about Latifah’s performance than the people being remembered. At times, it was difficult to make out names on the screen or see the figures because of the zoomed out camera angle.
There were no real surprises in the awards themselves, however. Danny Boyle’s “Slumdog Millionaire” swept, taking eight awards, including those for Best Picture, Director, Cinematography, and Adapted Screenplay. As expected, Heath Ledger won Best Supporting Actor for his outstanding performance in “The Dark Knight;” Sean Penn and Kate Winslet were no surprises in the Best Actor and Actress categories. The only small departure from what was expected was in the Foreign-Language Film category, where Japan’s “Departures” trumped Israel’s “Waltz With Bashir.”
The Oscars this year were charmingly surprising in terms of musical influence. But overall, the show and spectacle came across as overblown. In today’s tough economic times, the Academy might have chosen a more modest approach.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Edited Review Outline
The review in a nutshell: introduction as to what the album is, a little background on Andrew Bird and a couple of other artists provided for reference; what makes the album distinct; what brings the album together; specific examples provided throughout (i.e. alliteration, ability to play with language). Small amount of wrap-up, information about companion disc, "Useless Creatures."
A Plethora of Sound Available on “Noble Beast” Part Deux
Andrew Bird has done it again. With his newest release, “Noble Beast,” the Chicago-based singer-songwriter has created another unique and diverse album, influenced by everything from the singer’s classical training to sounds heard on his Illinois farm. The result is a record that’s gentler and mellower in comparison to his earlier work.
The follow-up to Bird’s 2007 “Armchair Apocrypha,” itself critically acclaimed, this new record was self-produced. It bears comparison to other folk/indie rock albums such as Sufjan Steven’s “Come On Feel The Illinoise!” or Iron & Wine’s “Woman King,” both 2005 releases.
But what makes this disc great is the diversity of tracks it contains; every song is different. It opens with the infectious, fast-paced, “Oh No,” partly inspired by a child’s cries on an airplane. The track automatically hooks the listener with Bird’s characteristic whistling and wide range of vocals.
Contrast this with the more electric feel of “Not A Robot, But A Ghost,” which makes effective use of oboe and a crackling electric guitar. The song and Bird’s voice at its highest are oddly similar to “Gong,” by Icelandic slow-motion rockers Sigur Ros. Similarly, “Fitz and Dizzyspells” utilizes an electric violin to draw the listener into the song.
Bird has been inspired by vastly different sources in making this record. Trips to Chicago’s Field Museum and the Garfield Park conservatory were responsible for the folk-influenced ballad “Natural History.” In an odd twist, the introduction to “Souverian” bears an uncanny resemblance to the start of The Buena Vista Social Club’s “Pueblo Nuevo.” Whether this similarity was intentional is debatable – however, jazz was a large influence in Andrew Bird’s earlier career, so it’s possible.
Despite differences between individual songs throughout the album, the common thread of Bird’s voice, violin (and guitar) plucking and playing, and distinctive whistling unify this collection. His vocals are often given an echo effect, with tracks becoming spectral and inspiring as a result. The warm, rumbling drumming of Martin Dosh and the various instruments of the multitalented Jeremy Ylvisaker (including organ, shortwave, and guitar), also tie the album together.
Another subtle instrument that Bird uses to fashion this record into a whole is his ability to play with language. On “Noble Beast,” he shows a fascination with words. Whether it’s the “salsify mains” and “calcified arythmatists” of “Oh No,” the “proto-Sanskrit Minoans and porto-centric Lisboans” from “Tenuousness,” or the kittens with pleurisy in “Natural History,” it’s clear that Bird has a penchant for toying with odd words. More remarkable is his ability to use them fluidly in his songs without sounding clunky or awkward.
Use of alliteration adds to this sense of playing with language as well. “Fitz and Dizzyness” gives the listener “crooks and craggy cliffs” while “Masterswarm features “flailing feudal fleas feeding from the arms of the master.” Together with Bird’s wikipedia-worthy references, this creates an engaging aural experience that rewards close listeners, making this an increasingly satisfying record on repeat listenings. “Noble Beast” can be purchased on its own or in a deluxe edition that includes its companion instrumental disc, “Useless Creatures.”
The follow-up to Bird’s 2007 “Armchair Apocrypha,” itself critically acclaimed, this new record was self-produced. It bears comparison to other folk/indie rock albums such as Sufjan Steven’s “Come On Feel The Illinoise!” or Iron & Wine’s “Woman King,” both 2005 releases.
But what makes this disc great is the diversity of tracks it contains; every song is different. It opens with the infectious, fast-paced, “Oh No,” partly inspired by a child’s cries on an airplane. The track automatically hooks the listener with Bird’s characteristic whistling and wide range of vocals.
Contrast this with the more electric feel of “Not A Robot, But A Ghost,” which makes effective use of oboe and a crackling electric guitar. The song and Bird’s voice at its highest are oddly similar to “Gong,” by Icelandic slow-motion rockers Sigur Ros. Similarly, “Fitz and Dizzyspells” utilizes an electric violin to draw the listener into the song.
Bird has been inspired by vastly different sources in making this record. Trips to Chicago’s Field Museum and the Garfield Park conservatory were responsible for the folk-influenced ballad “Natural History.” In an odd twist, the introduction to “Souverian” bears an uncanny resemblance to the start of The Buena Vista Social Club’s “Pueblo Nuevo.” Whether this similarity was intentional is debatable – however, jazz was a large influence in Andrew Bird’s earlier career, so it’s possible.
Despite differences between individual songs throughout the album, the common thread of Bird’s voice, violin (and guitar) plucking and playing, and distinctive whistling unify this collection. His vocals are often given an echo effect, with tracks becoming spectral and inspiring as a result. The warm, rumbling drumming of Martin Dosh and the various instruments of the multitalented Jeremy Ylvisaker (including organ, shortwave, and guitar), also tie the album together.
Another subtle instrument that Bird uses to fashion this record into a whole is his ability to play with language. On “Noble Beast,” he shows a fascination with words. Whether it’s the “salsify mains” and “calcified arythmatists” of “Oh No,” the “proto-Sanskrit Minoans and porto-centric Lisboans” from “Tenuousness,” or the kittens with pleurisy in “Natural History,” it’s clear that Bird has a penchant for toying with odd words. More remarkable is his ability to use them fluidly in his songs without sounding clunky or awkward.
Use of alliteration adds to this sense of playing with language as well. “Fitz and Dizzyness” gives the listener “crooks and craggy cliffs” while “Masterswarm features “flailing feudal fleas feeding from the arms of the master.” Together with Bird’s wikipedia-worthy references, this creates an engaging aural experience that rewards close listeners, making this an increasingly satisfying record on repeat listenings. “Noble Beast” can be purchased on its own or in a deluxe edition that includes its companion instrumental disc, “Useless Creatures.”
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