Saturday, October 29, 2005
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
2000 + and counting...
Read this article. Very sobering. Remember at just over 200 "Mission Accomplished!".
I am always surprised by some music critics.
The current Neil Diamond tour has been getting mostly high marks and the press anticipation for his new Album "12 songs" ( a collaboration with Rick Rubin) has been very exciting (if not overly optimistic). So the following review surprises me a bit.
It's not exactly negative, just a bit snarky.
Singer-songwriter brings both substance and glitter to Monday's performance.
By JEFF VRABEL, The Times-Union
The two sides of Neil Diamond -- the fantastic Tin Pan Alley songwriter and the glitter-dripping Vegas bush elephant -- coexist in a state of uneasy peace, like Simon and Garfunkel, or Leno and Letterman, or Cartman and Butters.
They're cool at the dinner table, but you get the sense that the minute no one's looking, they're thinking about how totally great it would be to stab the other with a salad fork.
Before we go any further, full disclosure: I'm 30 years old, younger than many of the songs Diamond uncorked to the nearly full house at the arena on Monday night, and my allegiances lie with that first Neil. Sweet Caroline Neil. Cracklin' Rosie Neil. Anything-That-Doesn't-Involve-Love-On-Any-Rocks Neil.
So when you're writing your hate mail in about five minutes, I urge you to begin with a snarky gag involving my age (and please, stick with e-mail. If you leave me a voice mail, no one will hear it. Not even my chair).
Because to an observer who wasn't around for those Solitary Man days, what's so fascinating is how the seemingly counterintuitive chapters of Diamond's past assimilate into a whole that, at a fantastic-looking 64, can produce a show at the near-mathematical midpoint between pure magnificence and hideous terror.
For example, Cherry Cherry and Forever in Blue Jeans came off as near-perfect pop timelessness, while I spent a medley of songs involving a seagull dreaming up ways to kill myself with my shoelaces.
Diamond sticks to the lower register these days, his band doesn't have much punch in it and he doesn't prowl the stage so much as saunter around it as if looking for his reading glasses. But the man's a showbiz cyborg -- "I go where the noise is," he challenged the crowd early on, in just one display of old-school stage-patter genius -- and a consummate-to-the-point-of-being-kinda-weird professional.
And he served up two precise hours of what can best be described as a musical comfort cheese tray, and one of America's most enduring at that.Few could argue that Diamond's at his best when he cedes the spotlight to his melodies, as he did on the one-two punch of I'm A Believer and Sweet Caroline, or the expertly soaring Holly Holy, or a schticky but potent Red Red Wine that gave a backhanded high-five to the UB40 version.
And when he pulls out the lonely stool for I Am I Said, or puts on his acting face for You Don't Bring Me Flowers -- which, like every song performed on Monday, was brought to closure by a sweeping hand gesture that one might perform were one to release a baby white dove into the wild -- a wave of viscous liquid cheese pours off the stage and down into the crowd, threatening to destroy everything in its path. Introducing that suite from Jonathan Livingston Seagull, Diamond said, "It is a journey painted on the canvas of the soul."
Uh . . . right. Who needs a beer?
None of this is to suggest that Diamond is no longer bringing it -- he is certainly in good, if no longer top, form. He wielded the acoustic guitar for You Got to Me and Kentucky Woman. He did Thank the Lord for the Night Time with the energy of a man half his age. And then he dug into America, which, after all the years, remains overwrought and obvious enough that it's a wonder Meat Loaf didn't think of it first, and Love on the Rocks, garnished with a series of facial grimaces that you might expect from a man who's passing a live squirrel through his colon.
Anywhere else, repeated exposure to such stylistic turbulence could cause a permanent shifting of one's posture, but at the Neil show, it's just the way the world spins.
It's that ragged back-and-forth that keeps Diamond from enjoying the level of songwriting acclaim he deserves, and ends up giving him a lot of acclaim he doesn't. And since everyone is quite happy with the arrangement, that's the way it'll be for the forseeable future, until Neil's battery runs out. Meantime, pass the cheese, please.
jeff.vrabeljacksonville.com, (904) 359-4288
To be fair, I wish I would have thought of that "passing a squirrel through his colon" line. It is funny. A friend suggested that she wished his shoe laces had been longer to which I responded that this poor guy can't be very happy. What is it they say about guys with small feet?
It's not exactly negative, just a bit snarky.
Singer-songwriter brings both substance and glitter to Monday's performance.
By JEFF VRABEL, The Times-Union
The two sides of Neil Diamond -- the fantastic Tin Pan Alley songwriter and the glitter-dripping Vegas bush elephant -- coexist in a state of uneasy peace, like Simon and Garfunkel, or Leno and Letterman, or Cartman and Butters.
They're cool at the dinner table, but you get the sense that the minute no one's looking, they're thinking about how totally great it would be to stab the other with a salad fork.
Before we go any further, full disclosure: I'm 30 years old, younger than many of the songs Diamond uncorked to the nearly full house at the arena on Monday night, and my allegiances lie with that first Neil. Sweet Caroline Neil. Cracklin' Rosie Neil. Anything-That-Doesn't-Involve-Love-On-Any-Rocks Neil.
So when you're writing your hate mail in about five minutes, I urge you to begin with a snarky gag involving my age (and please, stick with e-mail. If you leave me a voice mail, no one will hear it. Not even my chair).
Because to an observer who wasn't around for those Solitary Man days, what's so fascinating is how the seemingly counterintuitive chapters of Diamond's past assimilate into a whole that, at a fantastic-looking 64, can produce a show at the near-mathematical midpoint between pure magnificence and hideous terror.
For example, Cherry Cherry and Forever in Blue Jeans came off as near-perfect pop timelessness, while I spent a medley of songs involving a seagull dreaming up ways to kill myself with my shoelaces.
Diamond sticks to the lower register these days, his band doesn't have much punch in it and he doesn't prowl the stage so much as saunter around it as if looking for his reading glasses. But the man's a showbiz cyborg -- "I go where the noise is," he challenged the crowd early on, in just one display of old-school stage-patter genius -- and a consummate-to-the-point-of-being-kinda-weird professional.
And he served up two precise hours of what can best be described as a musical comfort cheese tray, and one of America's most enduring at that.Few could argue that Diamond's at his best when he cedes the spotlight to his melodies, as he did on the one-two punch of I'm A Believer and Sweet Caroline, or the expertly soaring Holly Holy, or a schticky but potent Red Red Wine that gave a backhanded high-five to the UB40 version.
And when he pulls out the lonely stool for I Am I Said, or puts on his acting face for You Don't Bring Me Flowers -- which, like every song performed on Monday, was brought to closure by a sweeping hand gesture that one might perform were one to release a baby white dove into the wild -- a wave of viscous liquid cheese pours off the stage and down into the crowd, threatening to destroy everything in its path. Introducing that suite from Jonathan Livingston Seagull, Diamond said, "It is a journey painted on the canvas of the soul."
Uh . . . right. Who needs a beer?
None of this is to suggest that Diamond is no longer bringing it -- he is certainly in good, if no longer top, form. He wielded the acoustic guitar for You Got to Me and Kentucky Woman. He did Thank the Lord for the Night Time with the energy of a man half his age. And then he dug into America, which, after all the years, remains overwrought and obvious enough that it's a wonder Meat Loaf didn't think of it first, and Love on the Rocks, garnished with a series of facial grimaces that you might expect from a man who's passing a live squirrel through his colon.
Anywhere else, repeated exposure to such stylistic turbulence could cause a permanent shifting of one's posture, but at the Neil show, it's just the way the world spins.
It's that ragged back-and-forth that keeps Diamond from enjoying the level of songwriting acclaim he deserves, and ends up giving him a lot of acclaim he doesn't. And since everyone is quite happy with the arrangement, that's the way it'll be for the forseeable future, until Neil's battery runs out. Meantime, pass the cheese, please.
jeff.vrabeljacksonville.com, (904) 359-4288
To be fair, I wish I would have thought of that "passing a squirrel through his colon" line. It is funny. A friend suggested that she wished his shoe laces had been longer to which I responded that this poor guy can't be very happy. What is it they say about guys with small feet?
Monday, October 24, 2005
In November I wrote...
it's all about tomorrow
Time for a fresh outlook. Time to think about the future. Time to stand together for what we believe and to work to make a genuine difference.Now that the election is over I have a few thoughts.I have been an "Anybody but Bush" person. I think the reasons are clear. But now that the election is over I have changed my mind. Cheney would be worse.In 1973, Agnew was forced out of office for reasons having to do with tax fraud - the details are foggy, I was only 12. That opened the door for Ford before Nixon was forced out.We need to hope that Haliburton brings down Cheney before the secrecy, lies and cover-ups of this administration bring down "W".So, Who shoud replace Cheney? We haven't much time really. to stick to the time-frame of 1973 it must happen this spring.Your thoughts?
Sadly, my words may have been prophetic. It seems now that the investigation that has been swirling around Rove and Libby may have encircled Cheney as well.
I cannot begin to imagine how "W" would survive without these three at his side.
Time for a fresh outlook. Time to think about the future. Time to stand together for what we believe and to work to make a genuine difference.Now that the election is over I have a few thoughts.I have been an "Anybody but Bush" person. I think the reasons are clear. But now that the election is over I have changed my mind. Cheney would be worse.In 1973, Agnew was forced out of office for reasons having to do with tax fraud - the details are foggy, I was only 12. That opened the door for Ford before Nixon was forced out.We need to hope that Haliburton brings down Cheney before the secrecy, lies and cover-ups of this administration bring down "W".So, Who shoud replace Cheney? We haven't much time really. to stick to the time-frame of 1973 it must happen this spring.Your thoughts?
Sadly, my words may have been prophetic. It seems now that the investigation that has been swirling around Rove and Libby may have encircled Cheney as well.
I cannot begin to imagine how "W" would survive without these three at his side.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
"Hello Again"
The 25th aniversary edition of "The Jazz Singer" was released on October 18 in DVD format. I am delighted by this but unfortunately it brings out all the snarky critic types who find more need to criticize than to enjoy.
Take the movie for what it is: not much of a plot, credible but stiff acting on the part of just about everyone (save Lucy Arnaz), great music and overall a fun time.
This movie came out the same year I graduated from high school. A few things struck me. First, Bubba asks Molly if she has any Charlie Parker "albums". Remember what parties were like back then, having to change the vinyl disk every 15 minutes or so?
Molly ambushes the producer "Eddie" and puts a cassette into his car stereo. That's right, there was a time that cassettes were considered top of the line.
I have read a few reviews that say the black-face scene is offensive. What in the hell are these people thinking? This is an obvious and amusing nod to Al Jolsen. To see it as anything more or less than that is just stupid. Some reviews point out, rightly, that Neil was to old for the role (39 at the time). But, these too I think miss the point.
I have a dvd of this movie from some years back. The quality on this new production is far superior. Add to that my LCD widescreeen flat tv and a dvd player that upgrades standard dvd to hd quality and the experience of watching this movie is like visiting with an old friend.
No, Neil probably didn't deserve any acting kudos but the fact that the music from this film was ignored by his peers is a disgrace.
My recomendation is to buy or rent this DVD, grab yourself a glass or bottle of red red wine and enjoy the evening.
Take the movie for what it is: not much of a plot, credible but stiff acting on the part of just about everyone (save Lucy Arnaz), great music and overall a fun time.
This movie came out the same year I graduated from high school. A few things struck me. First, Bubba asks Molly if she has any Charlie Parker "albums". Remember what parties were like back then, having to change the vinyl disk every 15 minutes or so?
Molly ambushes the producer "Eddie" and puts a cassette into his car stereo. That's right, there was a time that cassettes were considered top of the line.
I have read a few reviews that say the black-face scene is offensive. What in the hell are these people thinking? This is an obvious and amusing nod to Al Jolsen. To see it as anything more or less than that is just stupid. Some reviews point out, rightly, that Neil was to old for the role (39 at the time). But, these too I think miss the point.
I have a dvd of this movie from some years back. The quality on this new production is far superior. Add to that my LCD widescreeen flat tv and a dvd player that upgrades standard dvd to hd quality and the experience of watching this movie is like visiting with an old friend.
No, Neil probably didn't deserve any acting kudos but the fact that the music from this film was ignored by his peers is a disgrace.
My recomendation is to buy or rent this DVD, grab yourself a glass or bottle of red red wine and enjoy the evening.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
