I am ready for Caprica

Analee Newitz at io9.com is going absolutely gaga for Caprica, which apparently begins for real this Friday night (last Friday’s “pilot” was the broadcast of material that became available last spring on DVD and through other means).  “[W]e think this series could become a classic.”  If Ron Moore and Jane Espenson can pull that off, it would put the back to back Battlestar franchises in the rarest of air.  I would also note, for good measure, that a show need not be a smash hit to become a classic.

Crazy Heart (hearts) the music

I’m 37 years old, going to be 38 in a few months.  I grew up in the mid-atlantic region of the USA and when I went to college, the only criteria I put down for my roommate survey was “no country music”.  I ended up getting matched up with one of the greatest guitar players I’ve ever met or heard, but that’s another story.

During my life, I’ve seen a renaissance in Nashville, where a few singers have become immensely popular and fabulously wealthy playing something called ‘Country’ music.  For me, there’s a tendency to hear this material and think it is overproduced, redneck garbage.  That’s not a nice thing to say, but a lot of what I hear in passing turns my stomach.

The question is, how could I, so in love with music and so in love with guitar, pass such harsh judgment on an entire genre of popular music?

Crazy Heart did not help me answer that question, but it did take me inside the life of a country song: the booze, the women, the road, the trucks, the prejudice (“you speak any Mexican?”), bein’ broke; hell, the only thing that was missing was an old hound dog.  It also showed me something I wasn’t quite expecting – musical genius.

As good an actor as you may think Jeff Bridges is, this was truly the ‘performance of a lifetime’ as advertised.  It is by means of that beautiful performance (in a film about performance) that the musical genius comes across, and it made me feel like my soul was in flight.

Bridges doesn’t do it himself, and a great debt is owed to the amazing T-Bone Burnett who produced the film and co-wrote the music.  But it is Bridges’ performance that makes the magic come off the screen with ten times more sincerity than any “three-dee” experience you may have had in the past few months.  He plays guitar and sings like he’s been doing it for years – because he has.  He brings every ounce of emotion and delicacy to a story as old as story-telling: the old master, fallen on hard times, on a path of self-destruction, against the odds, to make the magic happen and give it ‘one more try.’

And if the story brings only little originality (and includes a highly unnecessary epilogue), Bridges’ performance and the beautiful original music elevates this movie-going experience to something special, almost heart-rending.

The country music is portrayed with both warts and beauty.  Some is overproduced garbage, but some is the simple and sincere chord progression, leaning on the blues, tex-Mex and folk, that tells the story of love and loss.  The result is irresistible.

This is a love letter to American music; singing, songwriting and guitar playing.  The instruments, amplifiers and musical performances are all real.  The people on camera are playing and singing.  The performance footage puts you on stage with the all the excitement and intensity of any ‘real’ concert film (Last Waltz, Hail Hail Rock ‘n’ Roll, Rust Never Sleeps, etc.).  And Jeff Bridges absolutely seals the deal with a subtle and emotional portrayal that is easily the best performance by the extraordinarily gifted actor.

A Dune film that never was (via @Richard_Kadrey)

The amazing Richard Kadrey (Sandman Slim) tweeted about an earlier attempt to make Frank Herbert’s Dune novel into a film.  I was only aware of the 1984 film by David Lynch, which Kadrey describes as “a glorious mess”.  Personally, I’m a fan of the movie, but it’s not a top ten for me, despite the epic source material.  It seems, however, that the earlier attempt by Alejandro Jadorowsky (which was started and dismantled in the mid 70’s) would have been something else altogether – with help from Orson Welles, H.R. Giger, Salvador Dali and Pink Floyd.

OMFG!!!

Go to the Wilma Theater. See ‘Becky Shaw’. Laugh.

It’s really that simple.  And, delightfully, it also is not.

On Wednesday night, we were fortunate enough to get tickets to the opening night of Becky Shaw at the Wilma Theater in Philadelphia.  The comedy has an extremely sharp wit and the audience rewarded the performers with numerous outbursts of laughter.

But there are a few points that are worth noting, a few items that elevate this over an episode of Friends or Seinfeld.

  • The play runs for ten to fifteen minutes without any mention of the title character.  That was the perfect set-up because Becky is all about absence.  She is fleeting.  Brooke Bloom, with the help of pitch-perfect hair, makeup, lighting and costume, presents a gauzy Becky Shaw who is like tissue paper or a threadbare fringe.  It is a hard role, intentionally difficult to pin down, and we were treated to a first-rate rendering.
  • The play has numerou floating points and, for the most part, avoids definitive statements and rigid narrative.  For example, there are events in the past (and even current events that occur offstage) about which the audience never learns the truth.  This created a soft space where the emotions of these characters floated out to the audience.  I could not help but see beyond the terrific wise-cracks and enjoy the emotional drama that unfolded before my eyes and ears.

So, we give special thanks to Anne for getting us in on the first night.  If you are around, I urge you to check in at the Wilma.  I am sure you will not be disappointed.  Becky Shaw runs through February 7, 2010.

My MySpace Page – why am I doing this?

Why yes, of course – its “a place for music”.  That doesn’t make it any easier.  You will notice that there is no link at the top of the page in order to facilitate an easy visit.  When it comes to MySpace, I just don’t know.

I got to Imeem too late.  So late, in fact, that I didn’t get there at all.  By the time I figured out why I wanted to join Imeem (and, for that matter, what it was) it had been gobbled up by MySpace.  This happened just this past December.  And MySpace, being the wonderful folks that they are, immediately shut this popular social music network down.  They promise to restore its functionality, but I’m not holding my breath.

Lala was nice, but since Apple came in, the glow has dimmed.  I can’t seem to upload the rest of my music collection, and, as I’ve mentioned repeatedly, the social aspect doesn’t work nearly as well as it does on Last.fm and Blip.fm.  Apparently, Imeem was pretty good for socializing, but that’s over now, and folks on this side of the Atlantic still have no (or very limited) access to Spotify.

So what’s a girl to do (right now MySpace has my gender as ‘female’)?  A lot of bands still seem to use or even depend on MySpace, and I can’t access updates or blogs without having my own MySpace account.  The other reason to join is reports of the massive music collection, bolstered now by the acquisition (and annihilation) Imeem.

But after spending a few hours working with their garbage interface and being inundated by countless adverts, I can say with confidence that the stories were true.  MySpace sucks.