So, I finally caught the new Star Trek. The word that comes to mind to describe it—the thing that really makes it work—is verve. And verve covers a multitude of sins. In fact, on some levels, this the most satisfying interpretation of the well-traveled Trekkie mythology. JJ Abrams has managed to bring a freshness and a vitality to the proceedings that no other of the Enterprise’s many creative captains has been able to match.
At the outset, I should make it clear that I’m no fanboy. I’m a moderately geeky sci-fi consumer generally, with a slightly higher than average interest in and knowledge about Star Trek. As a kid, the original series was part of the regular weekday afternoon menu (bereft of much nutritive value) that included The Brady Bunch, The Partridge Family and Gilligan’s Island. I’m definitely not one of those people who got all exorcised about the “reimagining” of Battlestar Galactica. Starbuck’s a woman? Fine. Boomer’s a Cylon? Whatevs. As long as it makes for good storytelling, I’m on board; there are no sacred cows in my entertainment universe. I just want to be engaged and entertained with intelligence and wit. In that regard, Firefly was pretty nearly perfect, and, thus, doomed to fail.
To me, the Star Trek franchise peaked with The Next Generation and got less relevant/more cheesy with each subsequent iteration. One unintended consequence of this latest installment is that it renders all Star Treks almost unwatchably dorky, no matter how much Shakespearean thea-tuh credibility Patrick Stewart brought to the bridge. I think, though, that’s as much a function of timing and evolution—for its time, TNG was not only a great improvement on the original but a really strong sci-fi series in its own right. One thing that really drew me to the latter-day Battlestar Galactica was how deliberately un-sci-fi it was. But it also had the benefit of being higher up the evolutionary ladder in terms of creative and audience sophistication. So to give credit where it’s due, one big reason Abrams’ Star Trek works so well is that some of that BSG attitude—including a premium on plausibility that underlies other recent “reboots” from Bond to Batman—has rubbed off on it. Given how Abrams really made his bones reinventing the 1-hour TV action/drama, I’d love to see what he could have done with Enterprise. Talk about promise squandered right out of the gate.
I read somewhere how Abrams fretted over not alienating die-hard fans while not scaring away the (non-costumed members of the) mainstream audience. Happily, there’s no genuflecting to orthodoxy here. Abrams very shrewdly jettisoned most everything unnecessary, though he retained some fun atmospheric touches—the little ping-pew-ee-oo sonar on the bridge, a hover-cycle that sounds for all the world like George Jetson’s car, and a sick-bay nurse rocking a mini-skirt smock—as a comforting nod to nostalgia. Abrams succeeds by according the Star Trek myth just enough deference to function as setup for some pretty hilarious in-jokes. The film’s buoyant charm and winking humor even won over my wife—quite possibly the galaxy’s biggest sci-fi anti-fan—whom I’d dragged along almost caveman-style, but who emerged from the theatre gushing about it. I thought I’d gone through a worm-hole, let me tell you.
A few things don’t work—Scotty’s inadvertent beaming into the giant tube of otherwise harmless water was by turns reminiscent of Willy Wonka and Galaxy Quest. Never a good sign when your references point to a parody instead of the original thing. And the Delta-Vega monster chase/dénouement was rather baldly “Obi-wan scares the Sand People out of the Hoth Snow Cave.” Also, the time-travel crutch has become tiresome, but who can expect a guy like Abrams to leave that alone? In other words, none of these is a deal-breaker, given how irresistible and enjoyable the whole experience is. It’s as if Abrahams said to the writers and actors, “I need more fun!” And they all answered back, “Captain, we’re givin’ ‘er all she’s got!” Mr. Sulu, ahead, verve factor nine. Engage.
Not to be a size queen, but so far my “shortest song” (at 43 seconds) is the second longest of all the other mixers. I feel I should point out that this is not the shortest song I own, but it's the best piece of musical brevity for starting a mix. Call me a pragmatist, but I think the quality of the mix has to trump the strict consturciton of the category description.
Color my world: song that has a color in the title—no blue. It’s too obvious.
Pretty much any song from the Crowes could be considered a knock-off any song from the Faces’ “Ooh La La” LP; in particular, though, I was thinking ofSilicone Grown. It’s interesting to me how others interpreted "steals/borrows" and picked song that sampled another.
I have to ask my fellow-mixers: do you consider sampling “stealing?”
Me, I went with more of a “stealing” in a copyright infringement, My Sweet Lord/He’s So Fine sense. Or more topically, Coldplay vs. Joe Satriani
Song about a character you don’t like—this one is from Bet: any song that is about someone who is a jerk, or obnoxious, or violent, or has some other quality you don’t like.
Astute pop-culture historians might recognize father Tom and son Ian Spanic from their 15 minutes of national fame gained standing in on Saturday Night Live when Sinead O’Connor refused share the stage with host Andrew Dice Clay. Does liking them make me a misogynist?
Song about sex—I don’t think this needs any explanation. If you’re not sure, ask Mike.
The more of these mixes I do, the more I’m convinced that Sting’s biggest creative misstep was going solo. The Police rocked so much harder, and clearly didn’t take themselves too seriously, and for the most part, early on at least, managed to avoid self-indulgent, pseudo-intellectual wankery. They were a helluva lot more fun to listen to.
Department of Redundancy Department—song with repetition in the title
A song that “takes you back.” This could be either a song from your childhood or whatever, or it could be something recent that makes you think of days gone by.
The video has the added takes-me-back effect of authentic, late-60s wow and flutter. This is of the same vintage, at least in my memory, of Henson Cargil's Skip a Rope, In the Year 2525 by Zager and Evans (which I might have used for track 9, if I owned it), One by Three Dog Night, and So Happy Together by The Turtles .
The funny/sad thing about music in the post-Napster age is that the visceral sense memory you associate with a particular song--that way it takes you right to a particular moment--is dissipated by the easy availability and over-use in beer and cell-phone commercials.
Spoken word—a non-song! Any spoken word piece—a comedy bit, short story, whatever. These can sometimes be pretty long, so beware.
A Little More Gauze – Mike Nichols & Elaine May
Alternate version—a demo, acoustic, live, or alternate take. Bonus points if it’s an alternate version of a song you’ve used before (no covers, though)
Epic—Song that would make a good feature-length film
Trudy and Dave – John Hiatt
Ironically, the song I'd most like to make a movie out of is not available as a video. Maybe it's a sign... As any John Hiatt fan will tell you, he's a stellar songwriter--and storyteller--not least because he really understands character development and "show, don't tell." To wit:
"Well, Davy lit a match to a Lucky Strike
and the smoke curled up 'round his head how he liked
made him feel a little mysterious, 'til Trudy said,
"David, honey, what about us?"
So he thought about them, and those shots ringin' out
and other things he shouldn't be thinkin' about
Like how it wasn't them at all, just life that was mean
And how a twenty-dollar pistol made him feel so clean..."
This song, more than most of his, is especially cinematic because it (probably by design) uses character motivation to build tension over narrative arc that finishes with a fun little twist.
The improbability of Freddie Mercury's affection for the ladies--lardy or otherwise--notwithstanding, he really sells it in this vocal performance (though not so much in the video: patent-leather pants, suspenders, and no shirt. Really?) Oh, and Brian May's guitar is simply a force of nature. Hearing this song makes me want to start a band in my folks' garage.
Carving out an exception to my own "no superlatives" rule, this really is my absolute, all-time favorite song to sing backup with. In fact, I only ever sing along the backup parts. Dirty little secret: I’ve used it on a previous mix, but after the Never Say Never incident, I figured no one will be the wiser the wiser. Heh.
Amnesty song—as in past mixes, any song you wanted to use (in this or any past mix) but couldn’t find a place for.
Revelation from this mix: My love for Neko Case has deep roots in my love for Maria McKee. To say more would fall under “if I have to explain it, you won’t understand.”
Maybe not the greatest song, when considered in a vacuum, but the best fit for this mix. Cole Porter can suck it. Actually, I'm pretty much in the "Way You Look Tonight" camp, but I couldn't put my hands on a copy in time. And, I'm a firm adherent to the Totality-of-Circumstances approach to mixes. See also Track 1, supra. Law school will do that to you.
With two weeks of exams coming up, I'm having to pencil in bathroom breaks, so posting will be minimal.* I'll try to get a basic track listing up for The Penultimate Mix soon. In the meantime, please enjoy this little bit o' vitriol... (My "SAT vocab. song.")
*Not that it's been much of a going concern anyway.
All the hype around the new Audi spot got me thinking. They must really be banking on the evanescence of the average viewer’s pop-culture memory.
It strikes me as a bit of a strategic misfire to try beating up on their competitors’ brand images, especially BMW.* Especially given that Jason Statham drove a BMW 7-series in “The Transporter.” Moreover, that film, fun as it was, played like an extended version of one of the BMW “Hire” films, with Statham taking over the role of taciturn Brit from Clive Owen.
In my opinion, BMW did a much better job at establishing and maintaining its authenticity and credibility as a high-performance marque. Without a doubt, BMW was inspired by John Frankenheimer’s “Ronin,” which featured a jaw-dropping chase scene with—wait for it—an Audi A8. Indeed, Frankenheimer went on to direct the first installment of The Hire, “Ambush.”
My personal favorite of the Hire films, “Star,” was directed by Guy Ritchie, who was by then kind of a big deal for having made “Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels,” notable for many reasons, not the least of which was introducing the world to a bald, beefy British badass named . . . Jason Statham.
Instead of trying to convince me that a new Audi is better than a 20-year-old Bimmer or a 30-year-old Benz (which only makes me wonder what’s the German word for “duh”?) Audi would be much better served by playing to its strengths: all-wheel drive innovation, racing and rallying heritage, etc. They won Le Mans a few years back—in a diesel. That might not mean much to the average Super Bowl viewer, but at least it's a story--their story--and not some lame retread of something BMW did better almost a decade ago.
*Full disclosure: I am a lifelong BMW fan, former owner of a Euro-spec 1979 323i and a 1970 2002, and future owner of a cherry Atlanikblau 1972 3.0CS, which is what I would get were I in a position to choose among the latest offerings from Munich, Ingolstadt, or Stuttgart. Plus, I’d have enough left over for a parts car, a 2002 project, an E3 sedan and an ‘80s vintage 535is--like the red one in the Audi spot--for daily flogging.
Dick Cheney in a wheelchair = Old Man Potter from It’s a Wonderful Life. Pure, unrepentant evil on wheels, right up until the very last. If only there were a way to sub in Cheney for the SNL "Lost Ending" version.
Joe Biden will be the administration’s go-to guy for (occasionally unintentional) comic relief. See, e.g., him snapping digi pics just as the Navy chorus is starting the National Anthem. I say this will total affection; he’s like the country’s funny, eccentric old uncle. Looking forward to lots of laughs with uncle joe.
Warren’s invocation was lame—beyond the help of even Jesus. All false piety and neo-evangelical (a.k.a. hipster Christian) bluster. Obama’s only real misstep so far. It was totally redeemed by Rev. Lowery’s awesome benediction, though. Getting two million people to offer up an Amen! is what it’s all about.
The speech itself. Some people have a way with words; others, well, not have way, I guess. Took me back to Stephen Colbert’s address to the National Press Club; loved how pointedly he basically, but eloquently, said, “What these jokers here have been doing the last eight years, yeah, we’re not doing that anymore.” Science, justice, engagement, inclusion.
Chief Justice Roberts is a bit of a tool.
Was Scalia rocking a Kangol? I wish more men today wore hats—and NOT baseball caps.
Everything is showbiz. I loved the Simple Gifts airs. For me, Aaron Copland is the de facto composer of the American Soundtrack, even more so than Souza. I liked the idea of a simple, four-part arrangement, (including a clarinet seemed like a nice nod to Gershwin). But something about it—maybe just the fact that we had to hear that it was a special arrangement BY John Williams—seemed counter to the humble themes of the work itself. Also, Yo Yo Ma looked really cold; I wondered if playing in 17-degree weather improves your vibrato . . .
I wuz born here, an' I wuz raised here, and ain't no way no sidewindin', hornswogglin', bushwackin' crucker-croaker is gonna wrangle me outta my biscuit-cutter!
