Christmas Eve movie was American in Paris. I’d forgotten how much I liked Gershwin’s Concerto in F. Here’s Oscar Levant in the dream scene where he’s the pianist, conductor, orchestra and audience! When was the last time you heard piano playing like that in a Hollywood movie? By the way, I had no idea Levant was a composer and that he studied under Harold Schoenberg. Enjoy!

1838 – Composer Alexis Vicomte de Castillon was born.
1928 – George Gershwin’s musical work “An American in Paris” was premiered by the New York Philharmonic Orchestra.
1966 – Jimi Hendrix recorded “Foxey Lady.”
1975 – David Bowie’s “Golden Years” was released.
1975 – Foghat’s “Slow Ride” was released.
1990 – The musical revival of “Peter Pan” opened.
1993 – Guns N’ Roses guitarist Slash joined Billy Joel on stage in Los Angeles to play a solo on the tune “Shameless.”
1994 – Prince performed the song “Dolphin” on the David Letterman show.

Dean Allrick is performing LIVE,  not only on

vocals but also playing the piano, at Katerina’s,

1920 W. Irving Park Rd., Chicago, IL with

veteran trumpeter Harold "Rocky" Goins. 

Find out more about Dean Allrick at:

http://www.deanallrick.com/ .

The music was written by George Gershwin, the lyrics by Ira Gershwin. It was one of nine songs George Gershwin wrote for the movie A Damsel in Distress, in which it was performed by Fred Astaire with backing vocals provided by The Stafford Sisters. The song was published in 1937.

A version of this song was used during the opening credits of the 1995 to 1998 CBS sitcom Cybill, starring Cybill Shepherd, who performed the song herself.

The song was included in the Tony Award-winning Broadway musical Crazy for You.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nice_Work_If_You_Can_Get_It_(song)

The man who only live for making money
Lives a life that isn’t necessarily sunny;
Likewise the man who works for fame —
There’s no guarantee that time won’t erase his name
The fact is
The only work that really brings enjoyment
Is the kind that is for girl and boy meant.
Fall in love — you won’t regret it.
That’s the best work of all — if you can get it.
Holding hands at midnight
‘Neath a starry sky…
Oh that is nice work if you can get it.
And you can get it — if you try.
Strolling with the one girl
Sighing sigh after sigh…
Oh nice work if you can get it.
And you can get it — if you try.
Just imagine someone
Waiting at the cottage door.
Where two hearts become one…
Who could ask for anything more?
Loving one who loves you,
And then taking that vow…
Nice work if you can get it,
And if you get it —
Won’t you tell me how?
And you can get it — if you try.
And you can get it — if you try.
And you can get it — if you try.
And you can get it — if you try
Holding hands at midnight
‘Neath a starry sky…
Nice work if you can get it
And you can get it — if you try.
Strolling with the one girl
Sighing sigh after sigh…
Nice work if you can get it
And you can get it — if you try
Who could ask for anything more?

Two sites where you will find the best Gershwin info:

http://www.gershwin.com/

and

http://www.gershwinfan.com/Home.html

I can’t believe I’ve had this blog for more than five seconds and I haven’t yet professed my adoration for Woody Allen. Warning: it will happen again.

This is the opening sequence for his 1979 film Manhattan. There is a brief, funny voice-over as Woody’s character Isaac struggles to begin his new book, but mostly it consists of iconic shots of New York City accompanied by George Gershwin’s iconic composition “Rhapsody in Blue.” It’s so American in an urban, modern way.

How gorgeous is this opening?

“Rhapsody In Blue” plays while New York City is destroyed, over and over and over.  It’s awesome.

This is just great four decades of celluloid New York annihilation distilled into one musical montage.

Plus a fantastic use of Rhapsody in Blue by George Gershwin.

Can you name all the films?

It’s Violent War: Hollywood Triumphantly Annihilates New York City!

Hollywood vs. New York is a fantastic 3-min. short film put together by Goodie Bag. The film shows four decades of celluloid New York City annihilation distilled into one montage, stirringly set to the sounds of, what else, George Gershwin’s dramatic Rhapsody in Blue.  New York City and Los Angeles have been locked in battle since the first jaded Manhattanite moved West in search of sunny skies, fertile earth and probably a cheap yoga instructor or something.

It’s been a long back and forth, but Los Angeles has always had one big trump card: the power to destroy New York over and over again on film. And just to make sure, through the years Hollywood has sent aliens, giant gorillas and Mother Nature to demolish the city, and, of course, it unleashed the terrifying Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.

It’s Violent War: Hollywood Triumphantly Annihilates New York City!

Please Share This:

Hollywood vs. New York (via Goodie Bag)

Watch New York get destroyed in countless different ways in this epic montage of disaster movie scenes from the past four decades, all set to the whimsical themes of George Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. End result? Eye candy and comedic genius for the inner sadist in all of us.

- por Bernardo Brum

Eu quero acordar na cidade que nunca dorme.

Somos recepcionados por Isaac, olhando a cinzenta Nova York em um muito apropriado preto e branco, e acompanhamos histórias sendo escritas, reescritas e jogadas no lixo a todo momento. Afinal, esta é uma cidade que nunca pára. Sempre há pessoas chegando, indo embora, se estabelecendo, arruinando-se, experimentando, chorando, brigando e apaixonando-se novamente. É quase impossível de acompanhar tantos fluxos sem ficar louco, é verdade. E é tão irresistível quanto.

Manhattan faz isso. Nossos corações estão quebrados e nossas mentes estão estimuladas. Isaac namora uma garota de dezessete anos, pula fora do emprego na televisão, se apaixona pela amante do seu melhor amigo, hostiliza e é hostilizado pela ex-exposa que agora é lésbica, e o pior de tudo, não é um exemplo para a posterioridade. Ele mal traga os cigarros que fuma, afinal de contas.

Aqui nunca vamos encontrar, infelizmente ou não, o grande protagonista que Hollwyood erigiu década após década. Quem é o protagonista, afinal? Um homem perdido em seus próprios ideais de dignidade, relacionamento e vida? Que sente arrepios quando ouve críticas negativas ao trabalho de Ingmar Bergman tal qual uma senhora ricaça sente fricotes quando é criticada pela sua cafonice? Ou é Manhattan, desconstruída e desglamourizada tantas vezes, com obras como Operação França, Caminhos Perigosos e Faça a Coisa Certa?

Teria um tragicomediante, frente a esses mestres do drama visceral urbano, seu espaço pra desconstruir Nova York? Pois sim; aqui sentimos de forma tão palpável que estamos sem deus, que talvez não sejamos nada mesmo nesse mundo, mas ora bolas, nós queremos redenção, não queremos?

Gordon Willis agarra nossos olhares e nos faz viajar em meio à tempestade, à lua (eu tive um impulso louco de jogar você na superfície lunar e cometer perversão interestelar…), as exposições, aos bares, restaurantes, charretes, quartos esfumaçados onde ainda há sexo no meio de tanta violência, dinheiro e arranha-céus, aos bancos defronte a pontes – tudo na mais emocionante das composições de quadro, naquele momento da noite em que só as nossas vozes importam, já que somos, provavelmente, apenas sombras apaixonadas observando milênios de cultura humana – milênios ainda não o suficientes para nos impedir de fazer besteiras, trairmos nossos corações, sermos desonestos com nós mesmos. Não nos livra também que somos medíocres vítimas do acaso, e que as mulheres cansam de nós, e que nossos amigos não são sempre leais, e diabos, talvez sejamos uns chauvinistas que não aprenderam a perder.

Mas se não há nada depois da falência múltipla dos órgãos, se somos garotos solitários em um universo ateu, talvez aqui nem tudo seja uma farsa. Talvez possamos fazer algo além de nos redimir para cada falha nossa. Não sabemos tratar bem nossos parceiros, desprezamos aqueles que mostram algum valor, brigamos pelos motivos mais bestas, como se ainda tivéssemos treze anos. Eu acho que nós somos afobados e descrentes demais – em relação a nós mesmos. Queremos ser perfeitos, queremos que tudo dê sempre certo. Mas somos humanos no final das contas, não é?

Vai saber. Woody não se atreve a responder. Nos acena com prédios, fogos de artifício e George Gershwin. Rhapsody In Blue para a Grande Maçã continuar acordada, mais uma vez, acendendo mais um cigarro e tentando com um pouco mais de doçura.

5/5

Ficha técnica: Manhattan – 1979, EUA. Dir.: Woody Allen. Elenco: Woody Allen, Diane Keaton, Mariel Hemingway, Meryl Streep, Michael Murphy, Karen Ludwig

The Crone finds herself in Bonita Springs, FL, on the Gulf of Mexico. She is staying in the very lap of luxury–a hotel where they insist on giving her a glass of champagne every time she passes reception. The hotel has 3 outdoor pools although so far the Crone has found only two of them, possibly because the third is nowhere near reception.  Last night the hotel hosted 3 weddings and a Bat Mitzvah and still managed to pay individual attention to every need of the Crone. A mojito. Some ceviche. The works of George Gershwin rendered by a singer and double bassist. (Check them out here) None of it was too much trouble.

This morning, the Crone ventured out into the environs of the Estero bay to discover that all around the luxury resorts are trailer parks.  The super-rich and the staff who serve them live hugger mugger–talk about a service economy.

The area is famous for mangroves and manatees.  The Crone saw neither but did bump into eccentrics at every turn.

Up bright and early to go to the Fleamarket (budgies, golf balls, shamwows, gold chains by the yard, knives, guns, fruit and vegetables,  vintage t-shirts, a Doo-Wop band–although this last was not for sale), the Crone stopped at Dolly’s for breakfast  and was quickly joined by an elderly gentleman: “You all by yourself honey? Mind if I sit down? These high seats are easier for me to get out of…”  In Crone world this passes for a pick-up line. Her breakfast companion, a man of at least 75, then proceeded to tell the Crone that he had been on active service in Iraq but had had to come back to get his knees replaced 6 months ago.  He went on to share that he was in the CIA (which surely they’re not supposed to mention?), that his son had worked for Tip O’Neill (ahhh, still sentient enough to work that old Irish connection…) and that his wife had died 8 years ago after winning $50,000 at a casino so she would leave him well off. “She spoke to God and he told her what machine to go to. She went straight to it and put in 4 quarters and won $50,000 dollars. ” His wife didn’t last long after that ”An angel came and got her. She said she’d seen this angel and she got me to get all the kids together and then she sat her in seat and put out her arms and the angel came and took her. Now what do you think of that?”  Truly the Crone didn’t know what to think. She told him to take care of himself when he went back to Iraq (“I’ll serve as long as they need me” ) and went on her way. And bumped right into Master Bait and Tackle, a fine emporium meeting all South West Florida’s fishing needs.

The owner came out to chat when he saw the Crone stop to take a photo. As you can see, he is very proud of his store. The Crone didn’t ask him what he says when he answers the phone…

Of all his dance partners, Astaire is still linked in the public mind most closely to Ginger Rogers. Uploaded by img.photobucket.com.

You’ll get a kick out of the studio’s evaluation of Fred Astaire’s initial screen test. It’s purported to have read: “Can’t act. Can’t sing. Balding. Can dance a little.” Yeah, just a little. No less a talent than Gene Kelly said, “The history of dance on film begins with Astaire.”

Fred experienced great success on Broadway in such successes as the Gershwins’ Funny Face and Cole Porter’s Gay Divorce (renamed The Gay Divorcee for film). But the world of movies and Hollywood beckoned, and he went west and appeared in his first film in 1933. He first danced with Ginger Rogers in that year’s Flying Down to Rio, and he went on to partner with her in nine more pictures.

Uploaded by users.cloud9.net.

It’s generally agreed that while Rogers wasn’t the most talented dancer of Fred’s partners, she just looked right with him. She seemed to be having the time of her life. Others he danced with, with varying degrees of success, include Eleanor Powell, Paulette Goddard, Rita Hayworth, Cyd Charisse, and Leslie Caron. One of his highest compliments was payed to Charisse. “When you dance with her,” he said, “you stay danced.”

At least two of his routines are film classics. And, though we remember Astaire most for his partner dances, these were both solos. The first is “Puttin’ on the Ritz,” from the film Blue Skies. Here, he wears his signature top hat and tails, and parodies his upcoming retirement in what was then known as “Fred Astaire’s last dance.” (He unretired two years later.) The other is his dancing on the ceiling number from Royal Wedding. Everyone loves it, so here it is for your enjoyment:

00218.0000 EMBRACEABLE YOU

Music: George Gershwin
Words: Ira Gershwin

Link to Lyrics and Chords
Link to Frank Sinatra’s Performance

Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you.
Embrace me, you irreplaceable you.
Just one look at you, my heart grew tipsy in me;
You and you alone bring out the gypsy in me.
I love all the many charms about you.
Above all I want my arms about you.
Don’t be a naughty baby, come to papa, come to papa, do;
My sweet embraceable you.

The words “great” and “greatest” appeared several times during my research into Nadia Boulanger (1887-1979), both on the Internet and from books that I own.

Why was I looking for references about her? Because I had come across her name yet one more time, recently, causing me to go over the tipping point, not able to resist getting to know her better.

Last week a friend had given me a book, What to Listen for in Music by the composer of quintessentially American music, Aaron Copland, and in the foreword by Alan Rich was a reminder that Copland had been a pupil of Boulanger.

Leonard Bernstein congratulating Nadia Boulanger, after she became the first woman to conduct the New York Philharmonic Orchestra in a full concert, February, 1962. [Secondary Source]

Most simply put, she can be considered “the greatest” because she was teacher to so many renown composers and performing artists, some of whom were great teachers in their own right—Aaron Copland, for one.

These are some of the American students of Nadia Boulanger:

Although Leonard Bernstein’s name is linked for many reasons with that of Nadia Boulanger, he apparently was not a pupil of hers. But, he was a pupil of a pupil of hers: Walter Piston.

Boulanger, in 1928, rejected as a student one of America’s most important composers, George Gershwin. “What could I give you that you haven’t already got?” she asked him. [Source]

I most recently saw Boulanger’s name while reading Sylvia Beach and the Lost Generation, by Noël Riley Fitch. Beach was the owner of the famed “Shakespeare & Company” bookshop in Paris to which Ernest Hemingway, James Joyce, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ford Maddox Ford, Ezra Pound and many other writers of the 1920s and 1930s gravitated, along with musicians and other artists. Several of these musicians and future composers were in Paris because of Nadia Boulanger, thus offering the creative and disciplined influence of these two remarkable women who apparently never met each other. In chapter seven of her book, Fitch offers these anecdotes:

Aaron Copland (1900-1900)

Most of the regular customers of the bookshop were writers, but among them were four composers: Satie, Antheil, Virgil Thomson, and Aaron Copland…Copland, who had joined the lending library [of the bookshop] had time to read [Sylvia’s] books in spite of being worked “terribly hard” by Nadia Boulanger, the great French teacher of musical composition to more than a generation of American composers…Because of Stravinsky, Ravel, Schönberg, Strauss, Satie and the music school of Nadia Boulanger, young American composers went to Europe, particularly Paris, to complete their professional education. In America, musical training was predominantly Germanic and old-fashioned, but in Paris, according to Copland, Boulanger knew “pre-Bach to Post-Stravinsky…cold.”

Although only the names of male composers have entered this narrative so far, Nadia Boulanger was teacher and mentor to a number of women in the field of music. In A History of Classical Music, on which I commented previously, the author, Barrymore Laurence Scherer writes:

Ruth Crawford Seeger (1901-1953)

During [Ruth Crawford's] European travels she was embraced by such pre-eminent musical figures such as Bartók, Honneger, and Nadia Boulanger…Among Nadia Boulanger’s American students were other women who achieved positions of distinction as composers, among them Marion Bauer (1882-1955) and Louise Talma 1906-1996). Bauer…had learned French from her parents; when introduced to Boulanger…in 1906, she offered to give Boulanger English lessons in return for lessons in composition, and thus became Boulanger’s first American student.

But, what was it like to study with Nadia Boulanger; what was so special that the most talented people sought her out? We can get a glimpse from Philip Glass.

Around a year ago I bought the book Writings on Glass: Essays, Interviews, Criticism, edited by Richard Kostelanetz. I have been fascinated with Glass’s music for almost two decades, especially since having viewed and bought the film Koyaanisqatsi, for which he wrote the musical score. The film has no spoken dialog. “In the Hopi language, the word Koyaanisqatsi means ‘crazy life, life in turmoil, life out of balance, life disintegrating, a state of life that calls for another way of living’” [Source]

In an early chapter of the book we learn that Glass went to study with Boulanger in 1963, at age 26, because a musical colleague whom he admired had studied with her. Glass had already completed his studies at the Juilliard School of Music.

(Transcribed from an interview by Ev Grimes)

Boulanger wasn’t interested in the music I had written…I started studying first species counterpoint with her again…I studied counterpoint and harmony with her for over two years…

She had a variety of techniques that she was teaching. They included score reading, counterpoint, harmony, figured bass, and analysis…With Boulanger, nothing was theoretical; it was all practical. The rules of harmony she could describe in a few sentences, but you could spend years writing it, because to her the difference between technique and theory was that technique was practice. Harmony is practice, counterpoint is practice—neither is theory…

You took three classes with her a week…[The] Black Thursday class…was a special class…[Y]ou were asked to that class; you couldn’t request it. She put together six or eight students…It would start at nine o’clock and would go till noon. The subject of the class was announced at the beginning, and we rarely accomplished it…When we left the class, we would sit in the café across the street. No one would say anything; we would have our coffee or a beer, then we would part until we got together the next week. No one would say anything [repeated]. It was totally demoralizing in one way. We all knew we were either her best students or her worst students, but none of us knew which ones we were…

One can read more of Nadia Boulanger and her teaching goals and methods from these sources:

List of students and others associated with Nadia Boulanger

[Click!]

Se dice que Dreamworks está haciendo una biografía del compositor George Gershwin. El estudio compró un guión hecho por Dough Wright (Memorias de una Geisha). Aparentemente, ya no falta mucho para que este negocio se concrete, según nos cuenta el Variety.

La cinta trata de la vida de Gershwin, desde sus años de niño en Brooklyn como el hijo de unos inmigrantes Rusos hasta su muerte en Hollywood en 1937 a la edad de 38 años. Aunque tuvo una vida muy corta, hizo más de una docena de shows en Broadway en compañía de su hermano mayor Ira. De hecho es tan conocido que su música continúa siendo usada en los comerciales de la tele y las películas. Dos de los ejemplos de sus obras se pueden escuchar con las piezas de “Rhapsody in Blue” y “An american in Paris”.

A “new” Gershwin musical comedy, Crazy For You was the quintessential musical – one where everybody sings, everybody dances and where anything on hand is used to make music. The plot was nothing new, having been adapted from the 1930s musical, Girl Crazy, but with an energetic cast, a touch of outrageously funny humor, colorful costumes, great scenery and one of the best musical scores of the century – who could ask for anything more?

George and Ira Gershwin were an incomparable team, responsible for some of the best-known American standards from Tin Pan Alley, stage and screen. Even George’s classical compositions, resonating with jazz and African-American influences, can be hummed whistled or sung by us all. The Gershwins and their compositions are part of the collective American consciousness. Crazy For You uses seven great Gershwin songs from Girl Crazy, including “Bidin’ My Time”, “Embraceable You”, “I Got Rhythm”, and “But Not for Me”. 13 other Gershwin songs are added: from Broadway shows like Treasure Girl, Oh, Kay!, Show Girl and Ladies First, Hollywood films like Shall We Dance and Damsel in Distress, and one addition, “Naughty Baby”, which was not written either for the stage or films.

Though the book for Crazy For You needed work, nothing was done to Ira’s lyrics, other than a little pronoun gender-bending here and there. Those for Girl Crazy are among his best – in fact, they are poetry of an indelible, universal sort. Just think of ‘I’m biding my time, ’cause that’s the kinda gal I’m', or ‘Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you! Embrace me, you irreplaceable you!’ The creators of the show stated: “We wanted audiences to believe that each song was written especially for Crazy for You – that they couldn’t possibly have come from anywhere else…. [One night] we overheard a couple talking about the show. The woman asked, ‘Are George and Ira Gershwin still alive?’ And her husband said, ‘They must be. They’re still writing musicals.’

Crazy For You was produced in reaction to the conservative backlash that developed because of the extravagant excesses of the 1980s; in a world where change and uncertainty are commonplace, where cultural programs and funding have been cut within school systems and professional theatres, an upbeat, musical to remind us of “the good old days” was extremely welcome. Any similarities to context of the original production of Girl Crazy? Yes! During the Great Depression, the American public craved a different kind of entertainment. This sort of musical comedy alleviated the worries and offered some relief from the seriousness of everyday life. Work on the stage remake began in 1988 with the involvement of multimillionaire Roger Horchow. A lifelong fan of George Gershwin’s music, he remembered meeting the famed composer-pianist at his parents’ home: ‘I don’t remember what he played, of course. I just remember loving it!’ Mr. Horchow sold his mail order business, he earmarked the profit toward the fulfillment of a dream: a production of his favourite show, Girl Crazy, on Broadway. Licensing rights were granted by the Gershwin estate and Horchow hired the director, writers and designers and booked the Shubert Theatre for the show’s opening. Investing more than $5 million of his own money into the $7.5 million project, he adamantly declared to the New York Post that it was his first and last show: ‘This is the only one I wanted to do. We hope to do it in other cities, but not any more shows.’

Despite its fine score, Girl Crazy had a storyline completely inappropriate for today’s society and audiences. In an interview with Kevin Kelly of the Boston Globe, playwright Ken Ludwig (of Lend Me a Tenor fame) said, ‘All those musicals’ books of the ’20s and ’30s were awful, but Girl Crazy seemed to me the awfullest (sic) of all! It was dumb, silly, beyond silly. And full of ethnic humor that wasn’t funny at all. I decided I’d have to rewrite from scratch. And I wondered how this would play with the Gershwin estate, principally the three Gershwin nephews. To be honest, they were more than willing to do anything to get the show back onstage, partly, of course, because of continuing copyrights, but also as ongoing testimony to George and Ira.’ Given access to the entire Gershwin music catalogue, Ludwig (along with director Mike Ockrent) conceptualized a “new” plot, rearranged the score, deleted some songs and borrowed others, including “K-ra-zy For You”, which provided the musical with a new name.

Crazy for You opened at the Shubert Theatre February 19, 1992 to critical acclaim. Frank Rich of the New York Times said, ‘The show is bursting with original talent that takes off on its own cocky path, pointedly mocking recent British musicals even as it sassily rethinks the American musical tradition stretching from the Gershwins to (Michael) Bennett.’ Other critics were equally ecstatic: ‘Bright, recession-proof, stuffed with one-line zingers… We’re back in the lost paradise of the American musical, with glitter and girls, legs and voices, melodies of insouciant mastery… An exuberant evening of amusing sight gags invented by Mr. Ockrent, stunning costumes by William Ivey Long, energetic, clever dances by Susan Stroman and marvelous Gershwin music.’ Four years later, the final Broadway curtain dropped. Crazy for You had won 3 Tonys (Musical, Costume Design, Choreography); 2 Drama Desk Awards (Musical, Choreography) and 5 Outer Critics Circle Awards (Broadway Musical, Choreography, Scenic Design, Costumes, Lighting). Since the Broadway version has closed, any company that can pay the royalties is allowed to stage Crazy for You. Licenses have gone as far as Cape Town, Helsinki, Oslo, Budapest, Australia, Mexico City, London and Indianapolis.

The Crazy for You page at Musical Cyberspace is available here. You’ll find production information, a synopsis with musical numbers, a mini galley and related merchandise links there. Enjoy!

Una abrir y cerrar de ojos, son los 3:46 que tiene como duración la excelente canción “How Insensitive” que interpretan a dueto el guitarrista, pianista y genio Antonio Carlos Jobin y el no menos talentoso bajista Gordon “Sting” Summers. Antonio Carlos Brasileiro de Almeida Jobim -brasileño por el nombre indudablemente- es considerado el George Gershwin del basto territorio suramericano. Las raices de Antonio se remontan al Jazz, pero tambien son influidas sus armonias por el especial estilo del impresionista frances Claude Debussy y por supuesto y quiza la mas alegre de sus influencias sea  la samba brasileña. Estudio Arquitectura, pero a los 20 años la musica fue mas fuerte que la arquitectura e inicio a tocar en bares, realizando su primera grabación en 1954 como vocalista de apoyo de Bill Farr.  Fue hasta 1958 cuando el cantante Joao Gilberto grabo algunas de sus composiciones las que contribuirian a la explosión del Bossa Nova. Solo debido a que Stan Getz en 1962 interpreto “Desafinado” fue que algunos brasileños los invitaron a participar en el Carnegie Hall ocacionando el surgimiento de la corriente Bossa Nova en el mundo entero en los años sesenta, desafortunadamente su vida fue efimera y hoy solo es parte de la historia musical. Jobin murio en la ciudad de Nueva York el 8 de diciembre de 1994 victima de un sorpresivo ataque al corazon a la edad de 67 años. Sting, de quien todos sabemos que surgio luego del rompimiento de Police, es un viejo conocido de todos los amantes del rock , del pop y del jazz de finales del siglo XX. “Insensatez” como se llamo en portugues y que compuso Jobin junto con Vinicious de Moraes esta incluida en un disco verdaderamente raro en la discografia de este talento Ingles titulado “B-sides & Rarities” producido en el 2006, este album esta integrado por verdaderas rarezas, algunas de ellas: Every Breath You Take, Fragile, All for Love, Ain’t no Sunshine (live), por su contenido es considerado un verdadero disco de colección, si lo encuentras compralo, ¡no te arrepentiras!.

PROS: incredible sonic landscapes | inventive album packaging

CONS: a lot to chew

As classical music goes, I am no connoisseur. I want something that will hold my interest and that I can appreciate for its artistic merits. The BQE is an innovative piece of artwork. It is a mirror that we can see ourselves in and reflect upon the state of industrialization, innovation and American culture. What The BQE is not is easily accessible. True, you can listen and enjoy with greater ease than the typical neo-classical Phillip Glass or Steve Reich, but it remains challenging even for the most die-hard fan.

The BQE is the Brookline-Queens Expressway, a lumbering, ugly thorn in New York’s side. An unlikely subject for a symphony. But, then again, Sufjan has made his name in the unlikely.

Sufjan Stevens has quickly become a legend. His releases have garnered critical acclaim across the board and earned him a place in indie rock’s canon of patron saints. Sufjan Stevens, patron saint of unbridled creativity, rambling yet intimate conversations and general eclecticism.

But it seems that all of the pressure of recognition has seeped into Sufjan’s creative output. It has been a full four years since Illinois. He’s been busy in the meantime, never ceasing to put out great tracks for compilations, produce and appear on other people’s albums (like label mates Welcome Wagon’s eponymous debut and DM Stith’s Heavy Ghost), and just recently embark on a small tour laden with strange new material.

It was around two years ago when I wished more than anything that I could be in the Big Apple to witness Sufjan and full orchestra perform his little multi-visual/aural assault on The BQE. Now, finally, the endeavor is available in full wide release (and not just in disparate, jumpy youtube videos of the live performance).

But, if you are expecting another pop gem like Come On, Feel the Illinoise! or the subdued introspection of Seven Swans, expect to be confused and/or disappointed.

The BQE offers a more diverse palette of sounds and textures than any other previous work by Stevens. Equal parts the familiar soft-spoken piano, choral voices, and layered counter-rhythms, as things borrowed from John Williams fanfare, 70s cop show themes, Gershwin-esque jazz breaks, and electro-club explosions.

One of the problems with the piece is related to the overall structure, in that the peak comes too early. Almost exactly half way through the album the slow building crescendo of orchestral instrumentation erupts into the electro glitch of “Movement IV: Traffic Shock”. At first listen I was thrown off to the point of thinking my iTunes had started playing something else.

Now beyond the music, it is important to touch upon the supplementary material, as the album is incomplete without it. The DVD included in the two-disc physical album consists of The BQE film to which the piece was originally performed live. Scenes of highway advertising, a carnival, a giant inflatable gorilla bearing an American flag, and unexpectedly sexy hula-hoopers bring a new sense of revelry and critique which is far less tangible in the music by itself. All of the places where the music doesn’t make sense on its own gain new ground with the inclusion of the accompanying footage of The BQE.

Plus, stick around after the credits and you will find a super special treat which I don’t want to spoil.

The packaging was designed by Stevens himself and is filled with his self-depricating, introspective sense of irony. The liner notes include a comprehensive, albeit confusing and longwinded, existential thesis about the project. Stevens goes a long way to explain the concepts he was aiming to explore. The album art features trippy, illegible, futuristic graffiti graphics layered atop stills from the film. Also included is an all but useless Stereo-scopic 3D image reel, playable in all View-Master® viewers. Like the stickers included with his Christmas compilation box-set, it’s an endearing little keepsake.

The BQE is a lovely, multi-faceted, flawed gemstone. Overall, the release sags under the weight of the same grand ambition which burdened Robert Moses’ abomination from which the album gets its name. For die-hards, it is worth it to shell out a little extra cash to experience the project in full. But for most, if anything, it is a guarantee that we will remain anxiously awaiting Sufjan’s next move.

Available now from Asthmatic Kitty Records, on CD/DVD and limited edition vinyl.

(4 out of 5 beards)

Track Listing

01. Prelude on the Esplanade
02. Introductory Fanfare for the Hooper Heroes
03. Movement I: In the Countenance of Kings
04. Movement II: Sleeping Invader
05. Interlude I: Dream Sequence in Subi Circumnavigation
06. Movement III: Linear Tableau with Intersecting Surprise
07. Movement IV: Traffic Shock
08. Movement V: Self-Organizing Emergent Patterns
09. Interlude II: Subi Power Waltz
10. Interlude III: Invisible Accidents
11. Movement VI: Isorhythmic Night Dance with Interchanges
12. Movement VII (Finale): The Emperor of Centrifuge
13. Postlude: Critical Mass

From Ann Althouse:

George Gershwin left some songs unfinished.

And now — authorized by the Gershwin estate — Brian Wilson is going to finish them.

Read the whole thing, and follow the links, here.

• And by “rogue,” we mean “nude” in Playgirl…which apparently is still a thing. MSNBC
• If you ever listened to George Gershwin and thought, “what this needs is more lyrics about cars and surfing,” you’re in luck. LA Times
• Unfortunately, Rep. Charlie “So corrupt that we might need a new word for corrupt” Rangel (D-NY) survived a vote that would’ve stripped him of his Ways and Means chairmanship. Washington Post
• The people at Marist did a poll to determine the most annoying phrases in the English language. “Whatever,” “You know,” and “It is what it is” topped the list. It is what it is. USA Today
• Not surprisingly, Mark Sanford (R-Appalachian Trail) got in trouble again – this time for speeding. Ugh. Atlanta Journal-Constitution
• Politico just can’t help itself sometimes. Breaking news: Polanski backers gave money to Obama! Really? The entertainment industry gave money to Democrats! Politico

“Love Is Here to Stay”

It’s very clear
our love is here to stay
not for a year
but forever and a day
the radio and the telephone
and the movies that we know

there just passing fancies
and in time may go

but oh my dear
our love is here to stay
together were going a long, long way

in time the rockies may crumble
Gibraltar may tumble
they’re only made of clay
But our love is here to stay

In 1998, Steven Winn wrote an article about lyric writing in contemporary musical theatre for the San Francisco Chronicle: Discouraging Words. The general thrust of his article is that “Broadway lyrics, with a few exceptions, have lost the wit and range of the classics”. Framing the piece with a superficial comparison between My Fair Lady and Miss Saigon, Winn’s beef really seems to be with the way that the musical has developed into a piece that serves the character before the lyricist him- or herself and is little more than a grumpy rant about how “they don’t make ‘em like they used to”. Read through it for yourself, but what follows is what I make of it all. The boxed sections are all quotations from the article.

In Miss Saigon, another young girl hit the big city with uncertain prospects and fell under the sway of an older man. “I’m 17 and I’m new here today,” Kim sang when she arrived in war-torn Saigon. “The village I came from is so far away.” … Miss Saigon demonstrates the demoralized state of Broadway lyrics-writing today. There’s hardly a line in Miss Saigon that rises above pedestrian sentiments and lockjawed rhyme.

Miss Saigon may not have the greatest lyrics, but it sometimes gets a short shrift. For example, I really like Kim’s introduction, simple though it may be, because it sounds like something one of the Dreamland girls would say on that stage. Immediately, the simplicity stands in contrast to the crude lines from the other girls and, later, we discover that, for Kim, these words are in fact the truth. It works for the character, for the situation and provides a dramatic building block for the play as a whole. There are other lyrics in the show far more deserving of criticism than this one, but I think there are are other things to consider too. Lyrics aren’t lyrics wherever they may be; we simply can’t take that as a given principle if we believe that content dictates form.

Compare the work of almost any contemporary lyricist with that of Lerner, Cole Porter, Ira Gershwin, Lorenz Hart, Frank Loesser, Johnny Mercer and even the more workmanlike Oscar Hammerstein II and Irvin Berlin, and the gap is yawning. The virtues of classic Broadway songs – which can register emotion, character revelation, narrative, poetry, wit, surprise and the sheer pleasure of melodious verbal dexterity – rarely come together at once in new musicals.

I think the juxtaposition of these two statements is somewhat amusing, possibly even ironic. I don’t think Winn has unpacked enough the work of the lyricists he has so deftly named. There are many examples where Hart, in particular, but also Porter and Gershwin and even Lerner sacrifice character and narrative for the sake of wit and verbal dexterity and, for me, wordplay for the sake of wordplay or merely to appear witty can sometimes be even more destructive than a lyric that is perhaps more pedestrian but more suited to character and situation. The lyricist should show off the character, not him- or herself.

Of course, that kind of peacocking was routine and acceptable, even expected, during the 1920s and 1930s when musical theatre songs and popular songs were one and the same thing, with the former feeding the latter in a very prominent fashion. That link still exists, but in a way it’s kind of reversed now and we see popular music being transferred onto the musical theatre stage not only in the form of jukebox musicals but also in the way that musical characters speak and sing in, say, the contemporary equivalents of classic musical comedies like The Wedding Singer, Legally Blonde or Hairspray, which themselves have their origins as popular films. But even in these latter-day equivalents, disposable as they may be, there is a far greater attempt to knit together the pop idioms with the characters on display, which – to return to my original point – just isn’t true of some of the “classic” musical theatre composers, even if their skill as lyricists of popular songs was incomparable. The virtues that Winn names may not all be in evidence in every new musical that comes along, but they did not always all “come together at once” in older musicals either.

That Sondheim’s extraordinary range and sophistication stand so distant from the competition only proves the point: he’s working in an age of lyrical mediocrity. George Jean Nathan’s remark about Cole Porter comes to mind. Like Porter, Sondheim seems “so far ahead of the other boys in New York that there is no race at all.”

Am I alone in finding this a strange attitude towards lyric-writing? Or perhaps it is just a critics attitude towards lyrics writing that I, as a writer, find disquieting? Creating art is not a race. Yes, from the outside, comparisons are inevitable, but if you’re writing lyrics with the goal of trying to be as good as somebody else, be it Sondheim or Porter or whichever lyricist you choose, you probably never will be. If we look at Jason Robert Brown for a second, a composer-lyricist who seems to try and emulate Sondheim in many ways, we can see that his work often just appears to be a pale imitation, even in cases where it is great work – as in certain parts of Parade, for example. I wish he would shake off whatever chip he has on his shoulder and delve deeper into his creative self and emerge with something that is truly his and no-one else’s. I think that musical might be amazing. I guess I just think you should be immersed in telling the story you’re telling. But I guess this whole issue is part of what is debate by Sondheim himself in Sunday in the Park with George, particularly in “Putting It Together”.

The catalogs in Noise/Funk operate in a fundamentally different way from that of the famous zoological one Porter marshaled in “Let’s Do It.” Gaines’ lines spring from a rhythmic and political impulse rather than a literary one. The Noise/Funk lyrics testify, in a street-smart, immediate way.

Seriously? I think to imply that the lyrics for “Let’s Do It, Let’s Fall in Love” spring from a literary impulse is a bit of a stretch. The narrative of Paris is so slim it might as well not be there at all and the link between the song and the narrative is so superficial and tenuous that the song was able to be extracted verbatim for the 1931 revue Wake Up and Dream. I highly doubt that Porter was very concerned with character and narrative when he wrote the song; it certainly is a bit sophisticated for an imperious matron from Massachusetts, even if she is pretending to be drunk. I would say it springs from an impulse to be witty and and verbally dexterous more than anything else; in that sense they are more street smart than literary, wouldn’t you say?

Noise/Funk, which turns to first-person autobiography in the second act, is a unique creation. But it also has roots in shows like Hair in the 1960s, A Chorus Line in the 1970s and The Who’s Tommy in the 1980s. Released from their traditional obligations, lyrics have become battlecry, confession and pop cultural anthems.

I’m not sure what Winn is saying here. At first I thought he was saying that there are certain baseline obligations for musical theatre lyrics. But this doesn’t allow for the principle of “content dictates form”, that a musical like Hair might need different lyrics than a musical like Anything Goes, and Winn then offers, almost begrudgingly, the idea these kinds of musicals actually can be released from those expectations, I suppose because of what they’re about. So is he actually criticizing the subject matter of new musicals, rather than the lyrics? Is he saying that the subject matter of contemporary musical theatre doesn’t offer opportunities for a lyricist to write good lyrics? But his idea of what comprises a good lyric is already in question – so where does that leave us. This article is not convincing me of the thesis that Winn has set out for it.

Critic John Lahr is concerned that the concept musical “is too often merely a song cycle… A smart lyric in the mouth of a stick figure is a theatrical nothing.” One trend, argues Lahr, is that “instead of being a game of show-and-tell the musical has become a song-heavy game of tell-and tell.” Examples abound in recent Broadway annals, from the long-running Cats and the curdled Jekyll and Hyde to Sondheim’s overly static Passion. Finding the right balance, for music, words and spectacle, is an eternal dilemma, no matter how much musicals change.

Now I think that either Steven Winn or John Lahr or both is oversimplifying what a concept musical is or can be and certainly his choice of examples is something I find a little confusing. As I see it, when it comes to concept musicals, we get at least three different kinds of concept musicals:

• Concept musicals that employ a narrative structure similar to book musicals, but which nonetheless always return to a central image, e.g. Cabaret, Fiddler on the Roof;
• Concept musicals that break down linear narrative forms or employ an episodic structure in favour of the central idea, e.g. Company; Nine; and
• Concept musicals that abandon plot, creating a series of character studies by placing a group of people in a common situation, e.g. A Chorus Line, Hair.

Now already, as far as I’m concerned, the first group is some kind of hybrid form of what I suppose we could call the musical play and the other two, going perhaps one step further towards being more presentational than representational. And, to get back to Winn and Lahr, I’m not certain that song cycles belong here, unless they are on the extreme end of the spectrum just before the form shifts into musical revue. I guess that’s what separates, slightly, something like Songs for a New World from And the World Goes ‘Round.

The point is that the field is wider than either is willing to admit and I don’t think any of the musicals in the three categories named above is guilty of merely putting “a smart lyric in the mouth of a stick figure”. But if we look at song cycles like like Songs for a New World or Closer Than Ever, the criticism snaps into focus.

Also, to consider this point in the wider context of the article, isn’t putting “a smart lyric in the mouth of a stick figure” precisely what lyricists like Hart, Gershwin and Porter did in many of their shows, musical comedies which were much slighter dramatically – much great “theatrical nothings” as Lahr might put it – than almost any of the concept musicals named in the little definitions list above.

Then if we look at the examples he’s chosen, Cats at least makes sense as a choice in that it is similar to concept musicals like A Chorus Line by presenting character studies of the cats as they compete for their spot in the Heavyside Layer, even though he doesn’t explore how the show might support the point he is trying to make. But I am not sure that using Jekyll and Hyde or Passion is much use to his discussion either. Both are is based on a particular thesis or theme, yes, are they concept musicals? I don’t think so.

Writing lyrics, Lerner said, was “a little above photography and wood carving.” But a serious sense of purpose, an aesthetic of fitting the words to a larger purpose, defines his work. A lyricist, he believed, was “a dramatist who wrote part of his plays in rhyme.” Lerner wrote at a time when musicals were much closer to their source in operetta. My Fair Lady, and to a lesser degree Camelot, are models of unified effect, with the music and lyrics poised like mutually enhancing counterweights.

What I have to say now might not be popular, I guess. But it doesn’t surprise me that Lerner equates lyric-writing with something like photography or wood-carving, which are hobbies for the masses but which only become art in the hands of a gifted minority. For me, Lerner was the Tim Rice of his era. I don’t rank him as highly as someone like Porter for wit and wordplay and he is no match for Hammerstein when it comes to character. I also think he tends to be a bit lazy and showy. I can’t handle “hung” instead of “hanged” coming from the mouth of Higgins or the mention of bobolinks in Camelot, when it is a species that is native to United States. And while we all know about the other minor lyric controversies in these two musicals, which arguably represent some of his best work, the errors and inconsistencies proliferate when we get to works like On a Clear Day. So I don’t agree with Winn that Lerner offered musical theatre a kind of unattainable perfection that will never be seen again.

But maybe lyrics have simply had a golden age that can’t, and shouldn’t, come again. If the form is going to thrive, musicals must reach an audience geared to high-speed transmissions, high-volume music and visually dominated ways of receiving and processing information. What can the chances possibly be of getting a few well-chosen words in edgewise?

Winn’s conclusion sums up for me the problem of his article as a whole. Although I can figure out, I think, what he is trying to say, but he isn’t clear about what he’s criticising. Does he want lyrics like Porter’s (which are smart and witty, often at the expense of character) or like Lerner’s (retaining a “sparkling” quality while making concessions for dramatic credibility)? He clearly doesn’t want a perfect marriage between character and lyric (“the more workmanlike Hammerstein”), although he does give Sondheim his dues. I think what’s he saying is he doesn’t like the way that musical theatre has developed, with lyricists writing for character instead of merely showcasing him- or herself as a wordsmith.

Winn says that he wants songs to “register emotion, character revelation, narrative, poetry, wit, surprise and the sheer pleasure of melodious verbal dexterity”, but he seems quite happy to leave emotion, character and narrative out of the equation if the lyric itself has poetry, wit or verbal dexterity. I think there is not a character inconsistency that Winn would not forgive if the lyric is sophisticated enough, and when it comes to musical theatre, that just doesn’t cut the mustard for me.

Scarjo in the recording studio; image courtesy of actressarchives.com

Scarlett Johansson wants to be considered a hyphenate. And not by joining her surname to husband Ryan Reynolds’s. She wants you to think of her as both actress and singer.

Now, I’m not sure when hyphenates like “actress-singer” or “singer-model” or “model-actress” became a punchline, but I think it suggests a certain snobbery toward classical training and finely-honed technique, usually acquired from years of stage work. Having just watched another episode of Glee, I wonder if guest-star Kristen Chenoweth and principal Lea Michele, both Broadway babies, lend legitimacy to the hyphenate. You could sub in any number of singing actresses with considerable stage training for more examples — Patti LuPone, Julie Andrews, Rita Moreno, Bernadette Peters, Vicky Lewis, Jane Krakowski, the mother-daughter legacy that is Judy and Liza.

Jane Krakowski as Lola in Damn Yankees; image courtesy of playbill.com

And yet, if actresses like Scarlett Johansson, Juliette Lewis, and Gwyneth Paltrow try to establish a musical career, their efforts are dismissed with a derisive chuckle (okay, admittedly, GOOP made Paltrow more of a punchline than Duets ever could). 

But Johansson is an interesting case, because she seems to want to tap into some of the indie caché that fellow It Girl Zooey Deschanel has cultivated with projects like She & Him, if not at the very least balance it with an attempted career in the imagined, perennially just-emergent film musical revival.

Johansson has made music for some time, having taken music and dancing lessons as a kid. Fans of Lost In Translation, her break-out movie from 2003, were perhaps charmed by her performance of The Pretenders’ “Brass In Pocket” during the scene at the karaoke bar. I know some girls who donned that pink wig for Halloween.

Johansson also leant her vocals to a cover of George Gershwin’s “Summertime” for a charity album in 2006 and performed with proto-shoegaze royalty Jesus and Mary Chain at Coachella back in 2007. Again, anyone who saw Lost In Translation can walk through the big symbiotic moment that results from having the actress sing a song featured in the movie that made her a star. That she is alongside the band that authored such a legendary song in the first place and performing it at such a public, credible venue as Coachella should not be overlooked. 

But Johansson’s first widespread effort to tap into hipster-approved musical ventures was her Tom Waits covers record, Anywhere I Lay My Head. Pointedly, this effort was widely dismissed by its target audience. The critics were not kind, dismissing it as a vanity project, discrediting Johansson’s ability, and crying offense that some starlet would dare cover the songs a musical legend like Tom Waits.

Cover of Anywhere I Lay My Head, released in 2008 on Atco/Rhino; image courtesy of tomwaitsuper.blogspot.com

Now, I don’t consider Waits’s ouvre or anyone else’s to be a sacred text. Songs are malleable. What’s more, covers are really fascinating. When they’re bad, they test what you actually like about the original. When they’re good, they can be transcendent, forcing you to rehear a song you already know and love. The Wire faced this each season when they re-worked Waits’ “Way Down in the Hole” for the opening credits, the original only being heard in season two. Let it be known that I think Steve Earle’s pedantic version for season five that swipes from the theme to Law and Order made me question if this song was actually good. Conversely, The Neville Brothers’ version in season three reminded me that it totally was.

Oh, have you seen The Wire? If you haven’t, you should.

For me, then, it wasn’t so much that Johansson, an actress, dared attempt reworking the songs of the (male) master. I could think of far worse things Johansson could do with her time and resources (get arrested for drugs, get cosmetic surgery, get really skinny, make another movie with Woody Allen).

My big frustration with her Waits covers record, which is where I ended up siding with some of the critics, is that I couldn’t actually hear Johansson. Perhaps putting her vocals so far down in the mix was meant to free her from any tethers to the master’s words. But, to my ears, it kind of sounded more like an attempt for producer David Sitek to upstage her, twiddling knobs and piling on layers of reverb so that her voice lent a “cough medicine/Tinkerbell“ vibe to the proceedings. Sitek’s futuristic, anthemic sensibilities usually do it for me, particularly with the work he’s done with Telepathe, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and his own band, TV on the Radio (aka my favorite band, aka the rock band of the 2000s). But here, I was like “oh, this is really his record.” It seems to make all the difference when she sings the song live.

Despite this setback, Johansson continues to make music. Last summer, she covered Jeff Buckley’s “Last Goodbye” for the soundtrack to He’s Just Not That Into You, a movie I did not see because I figured an ensemble rom-com of needy skinny women, aloof men, and Wilson Cruz being underused would make me yell “feminism!” and throw tampons at the screen and that’s why we watch movies at home. I can’t valorize her efforts, because the original is a song that made me so swoony for the beautiful boy singer that I taped a photo of him in my notebook and spent my allowance money on Grace. Johansson’s version, on the other hand, reminded me of Vonda Shepard. Tepid execution of such a powerful song makes me feel like a wet noodle.

But now Johansson has recorded Break Up, an album she did with Pete Yorn (who has not had the effect on me that Buckley has, but he seems nice enough). If you’d like to hear some songs off the album, along with their interview with NPR, check it out here and then thank my friend Kristen for, once again, pointing you (and me) in the right direction.

Cover to Break Up, released in 2009 on Atco/Rhino; image courtesy of forthempire.info

Yorn had Serge Gainsbourg and Brigitte Bardot’s collaborations in mind when composing these songs and casting long-time friend Johansson, who he felt was today’s version of the French bombshell.

The music itself sounds fine, and definitely lines Johansson up more closely with the indie-friendly retro cool Deschanel has found for herself. I still feel like her voice, while more expressive and interesting here, seems a bit flat and projectable. And, of course, there’s something potentially unsettling about Johansson being linked with men like Yorn and Sitek who seem to have a little too clear a vision of what they want to construct instead of fostering a more openly collaborative relationship. One could easily extend this reading into a comparison of patriarchal impulses surrounding production between musicians and movie directors. 

So while I don’t want to suggest that Johansson isn’t singing for herself, I also hope she keeps striving to find her own voice.