A small, secluded monastery comes close to topping the UK pop charts. Can one really be isolated if there is internet access? The story of the monks is here, and a video is here.
Are they able to handle the fame and subsequent fortune? Well, the abbot has an MBA, and a CD deal with Universal Music has been signed. Their PR person is on the cell constantly, when he is not dealing with the day-to-day of monastery life. There is perspective.
If you saw Mostly Martha, you’ll know it instantly, (not that the video has anything to do with the film) If you missed Mostly Martha, you should see it this weekend. It’s the German movie from which No Reservations was derived. Based on reviews read, the latter was a mere shadow of the former. Ci bum ci bum, du du du du du.
I’m not quite recovered from watching (in a weaker moment as relief from doing taxes) men who fish for Asian carp with bows, so the whole rickrolling thing was something of a surprise. I got my explanation from a son, but you can learn all about it here, in case you’ve been away from the intertubes.
There I was, looking for contact lens cleaner down at the drugstore, when over the speakers came this song. That was Thursday. It is still spinning around in my head two days later.
Someday, science will discover where earworms hang out, that part of the brain (large it must be) where these old, annoying but horribly catchy tunes reside. And they will aim miniscule probes of light and take them away from us forever.
The list gets longer and longer. He died at 30 while swimming in Memphis. The Wikipedia entry details his classical influences (Bartok, Britten, Ravel) and contemporary (Billie Holiday, Nina Simone, Edith Piaf, Judy Garland, Van Morrison, Led Zeppelin, Leonard Cohen, Elton John, Bob Dylan, among many others).
Near the time of his death, he confided to his girlfriend that he thought his mood swings were caused by bipolar disorder.
My Blueberry Nights with Jude Law as her leading man, Wong Kar Wai (In the Mood for Love) directing. She does not sing in the film, but has a song on the soundtrack.
I’ve long admired the writings of Reynolds Price. If you grew up in the deep South, you would recognize a certain courtly cadence to the speech patterns that he captures like no other contemporary writer, and he gets in a whole lot else besides.
He had some medical problems a while back, and I did a search to help me recall what they were. In the process, I found that he co-authored Copperline with James Taylor.
Yes, that does account for the unique nature of the lyrics, and why they run deeper than the average Taylor song.
Lately, I’ve been catching up with episodes of the long-running British series, ‘Monarch of the Glen’, set in Scotland. (I alternate that with the latest DVD of MI-5, aka Spooks, another animal entirely.) Sometimes I struggle to keep up with the thick accents of some cast members. Today, I woke up with Groundskeeper Willie’s rantings in my head.
Nothing specific since I don’t recall many of his quotes, but there’s this vague gibberish in a Scottish burr in the background as I work. It should be annoying, but it’s very funny.
Back in its heyday, KSFO’s night guy was Bobby Dale. When he was depressed, which was often the case, he would put on some Mickey Newbury. Especially if it was raining, because Mickey had those rain songs. Even now, I can’t think of Bobby without remembering Mickey.
For a short time, I worked at the station, and while I met the other DJs, I never saw Bobby since he only came in when most of the staff had gone home.
Back then, I didn’t know Bobby’s DJ history, nor was I aware of Mickey’s prolific songwriting abilities. Kris Kristofferson said that he could never have written Bobbie McGee had it not been for Newbury’s influence.
You won’t find Mickey Newbury at iTunes, but he’s at Amazon.
Here is An American Trilogy, which Newbury didn’t write, but arranged. He put three diverse, classic, Southern-flavored songs together in a stunning whole. Elvis and Tom Jones both had hits with their versions, but it’s this one I like the most:
then there’s the other spelling:
It’s Alright - Ray Charles
It’s Alright - Van Morrison
It’s Quite Alright - Rancid
It’s Alright - Pet Shop Boys
It’s Alright For You - The Police
It’s Alright - Trisha Yearwood
It’s Alright - Shania Twain
It’s Alright - Queen Latifah
It’s Alright With Me - Harry Connick, Jr.
If you still need comforting, here’s Sting singing Little Wing with help from Branford Marsalis and others:
When I was very small, someone read to me a story of either a mountain king or an elf king. The hero of the story was a small boy who somehow got into the great hall, and had to escape. I’m not sure of the origin, there seem to be several variations of this story. At the time, it scared the daylights out of me.
Many know the music from Edvard Greig’s Peer Gynt, but Peter Lorre’s character whistles it in the movie M, and that is a most haunting version. He can scare the daylights out of me too.
Out of the blue tonight, sorta, I’m watching Apocalyptica’s video.
Over at Musical Warfare, Chris can discuss Apocalyptica much more intelligently than I, when he is not talking about other metal groups. They’ve been around for awhile, but cello metal is very new to me.
The lyrics refer to mashed potatoes and leftovers washed down with pie. A terribly depressing song about loneliness, but with redeeming food. The YouTube video that features the song as sung by Rufus Wainright and Dido from the Bridget Jones film has only the movie ad as a visual. Disappointing, but the song is intact. And if you’re a Colin Firth fan, as I am, you can gaze at him during the singing.
I handed the CD to the receptionist, following the dental assistant in right away (even though I was really early), since this is the office that feels sitting and reading magazines will make patients more nervous.
This visit would consist of extensive, serious, no-nonsense, deep cleaning. I had crowns put in previously, and it is hard to floss, so there were lessons on the proper way. First, the polishing. In the background, very faintly, I could hear bits of songs, some apparently being rejected, although with the sounds coming from the instruments, it was hard to tell. I was reminded of chain saws in the distance taking care of downed trees in the recent storms.
When the dentist arrived, out came the tiny, sharp things that made me jump. She promised that if I took better care of my teeth, next time would be much better.
On the way out, Queen Latifah was wishing she was in California on such a winter’s day. Short appointment, much better than the three-hour kind. I wanted to dance down the steps because I won’t have to be back till July.
Here Comes the Sun (Francois K remix) - Nina Simone
Quando, Quando, Quando (with Nelly Furtado) - Michael Buble
This Never Happened Before - Paul McCartney and Wings
South of the Border - Chris Isaak
Your Love is Mine - The New Mastersound, featuring Corinne Bailey Rae
California Dreamin’ - Queen Latifah
Waters of March - Al Jarreau and Oleta Adams
I’ll Fly Away - Sphere
Dindi - El deBarge and Art Porter
Primavera - Ludovico Einaudi
Here, There and Everywhere - Emmylou Harris
Fields of Gold - Eva Cassidy
The list includes Tim Burton, Robin Williams, Buzz Aldrin, Robert Downey, Jr., Francis Ford Coppola, Ted Turner and many musicians. Nina Simone is not listed here, but there is mention in her wikipedia entry that her diagnosis was kept a secret.
Perhaps peppermint ice cream would be more in keeping with the season, but I’m always confused when a creamy, melty substance is mixed with hard, brittle bits.
Formerly with The Scorpions, he became influenced by Jimi Hendrix. The Wikipedia entry calls his music ‘neo classical metal’, and discusses his custom instruments. Here is Roth playing Concerto D’Aranjuez:
As we shop for the turkey, pick through Clementines, look at shelled nuts, the familiar tunes are coming out of speakers everywhere. I’m not ready. Few of us are, as we contemplate the big dinner ahead, is there enough of this, is there room for that, are we brining or not.
Maybe it’s because there are so few Thanksgiving-type songs.
At 8:00 a.m. I had to endure Willie Nelson’s On the Road Again, Elvis and You Ain’t Nothin’ But a Hound Dog’ and Bob Seger singing Against the Wind. All fine songs, but after the procedures, I had a frank talk with the dentist, having heard through the nitrous fog her mutterings about the receptionist’s choice of music. The only categories she ruled out were classical (too sleepy) and heavy metal.
Perhaps there’s an office or two somewhere that actually offers metal, but not around here.
For my next encounter with the high-pitched instruments and whatnot, I’m packing my own music.
I’ve got to do something about their music choices (all oldies), but am not sure how to approach this. Yesterday I had to endure Lollipop, folk singers too fond of falsetto and a multitude of other awful songs.
There being many more visits, this is a continuing story. I’m off to eat my mashed potatoes now.
So there I was, coming out of the post office to find one of my favorite feel-good songs on the radio. Just as I was turning onto the road home, the whine and bleat of the Kenny G horn crept in, reminding me once again that it is possible to rape a great song.
And that there are actually those who feel this version is better than the Louis Armstrong classic.
With an intro by a physicist, not that the song has anything to do with physics, but everything to do with memory and nostalgia. And no annoying popup windows with this link.
Yesterday, I had to endure the high-pitched whine and muted, but persistent buzz of assorted dental tools that inflicted various degrees of discomfort. Sweating to the oldies took on a new dimension.
I asked my dentist if that was her music of choice. She explained that the oldies were a compromise. The staff (all women, average age 30 - 40) fell asleep to songs without lyrics.
While the staff struggles to stay awake, the patients are willing themselves to be calm and cool. Interesting challenge.
The next time I go in (3-hour appointment during which I will be unconscious, thank goodness), I will present them with something a little different, because the next umpteen times after, I will not be under the nitrous.
California Dreaming - Queen Latifah
When Will I See You Again - Three Degrees
Lustral - Everytime
I Will - Art Garfunkel
Sierra - Boz Scaggs
South of the Border - Chris Isaak The Look of Love - Dusty Springfield
Dreams - The Cranberries
Fields of Gold - Eva Cassidy
Quando Quando Quando - Michael Buble
Only a Dream in Rio - James Taylor
This Never Happened Before - Paul McCartney
To its credit, the link contains a recipe for macaroni with dormouse and thrush sauce. If that’s the sort of thing that gets you all worked up. Pay close attention though, prepping that dormouse is a labor-intensive task.
And all these years I thought it was, ‘Keep your head. Keep your head.’
Last weekend was the city-wide garage sale in Cupertino. I stopped by in the afternoon when some were already closing up, having sold most everything. However, I did find a few where the sellers were still putting out stuff. I’m always looking for photo props.
One lady saw me picking through her stufffed animals (more on that another day), and decided I needed the furry chicken. Ah, but it was much more, it was a dancing chicken. To the great amusement of a family member in the car, she began to gyrate after she turned the thing on. She danced and whirled around till I got embarrassed, and said no, thanks.
So what did I get elsewhere? Two lovely plates with Greek gods on them and an African instrument. Walking in the door back home, I was engrossed in figuring out how the instrument worked, forgetting the plates clutched in the other hand. Which slid to the floor and broke into at least 50 pieces.
Fortunately, a family member managed to glue most of them back together.
The movie is 10 items or Less, and the car wash scenes are set to some catchy music, none of which I can find online. I could have used it this afternoon, scrubbing off spring’s pollen accumulation, and grime that may well have started back in the winter.
The Boilerhouse Boys, music producers from across the pond, are tinkering with the lost data issues of digital music files. Inspiration for their work goes all the way back to the technical aspects of the Motown sound.
It was a gloomy morning at home, but we headed toward the sunshine of outlet shopping. No one had a music preference, though one family member leans heavily toward jazz, while the other is just as deep into electronic. But I let my iPod loose.
Carolina in My Mind - James Taylor
Mexico - James Taylor
Always With You - Libera
Sandra - Pablo Milanes and Ivan Lins
Imagine America - Everything But the Girl
Parchman Farm - Mose Allison
Ailein Duinn - Meav
It shattered the meditative stupor, and they listened, incredulous. Not often do you get Stalin, crack and anal sex in one song. Hah. Found on the Leonard Cohen: I’m Your Man soundtrack.
Fifteen years ago in Basel, there was a live performance that included a soprano sax solo.
I really don’t why I like this song so much. It could be Knopfler’s incredible guitar work, his deadpan, dry delivery of lyrics, the mood he invokes. The sum of all parts maybe.
The neat thing about such lists is going, ‘How have I missed so many songs?’, or ‘Who?’ or ‘You’re kidding, they actually tried that?’
Some notables from my duets collection:
In Your Wildest Dreams - Tina Turner and Barry White
Belle Star - Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris
Gortoz A Ran - J-Attends - Denez Prigent and Lisa Gerrard
Waters of March - Al Jarreau and Oleta Adams
