tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32354680.post5320040937286864981..comments2023-11-03T09:05:31.265-04:00Comments on Soho the Dog: Fancy paints on memory's canvas/Scenes that we hold dearMatthewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936327293692397100noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32354680.post-33508170080718005892008-06-11T14:06:00.000-04:002008-06-11T14:06:00.000-04:00This isn’t *really* a parallel to the Indy-Chases-...This isn’t *really* a parallel to the Indy-Chases-Formula-Critics-Razz, but here goes: a similar weirdness in music history is the trash bin that Sibelius’ piano music has been repeatedly tossed into. One of the problems is that the critical drubbing is deserved. Another is that it doesn’t matter –these ‘shavings off the master’s workbench’ are fascinating, if you’re interested in form, content and context. <BR><BR>Consider what Sibelius was trying to do here: most of the piano suites were written to keep the bill-collectors at bay, and he obviously wanted to Write Something Popular. But, in the end, they’re divided as hell: he'll start writing a piece that’s easy to play, and then puts in a section For Advanced Players Only. Or he’ll try to write a piece in the manner of Chopin (and he's a good melodist for this); but his experimental side dive-bombs it with odd turns, and – sometimes – downright bizarre and/or abrupt endings. <BR><BR>In addition, from the opus 75 pieces on, it sounds like he’s thinking aloud about works to come --rather like an actor on stage alone, rehearsing his lines. From a formalistic standpoint, these hundred odd pieces are a disaster. But for some of us, they’re fascinating doors within doors.rbonottohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00792653133273022186noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32354680.post-88211666528867459812008-06-09T22:55:00.000-04:002008-06-09T22:55:00.000-04:00It's a terrific topic because I think it's one of ...<I>It's a terrific topic because I think it's one of the things that, paradoxically, a listener can perceive without any real technical knowledge—whether the craft of a piece is being deployed joyfully and/or insistently, or whether it's just note-spinning. The hard question is, where does it cross the line?</I><BR/><BR/>It is indeed a terrific topic and one I don't think I'll ever get a good handle on. Ever seen the movie "Gospel"? (Not a church service or a music-history documentary but a concert movie, shot at the Oakland CA Paramount Thrater, of touring gospelperformers like Shirley Caesar, Rev. James Cleveland, and the Clark Sisters.) At one point Rev. Cleveland's drummer, lost in the passionate devotion of the moment, refuses to leave the stage when the number's over; at length he's gently relieved of his drumsticks and led away. A moment later he reappears, produces a spare set from his pocket, and falls to drumming again. Presumably this happens at every show, yet that doesn't mean his religious feeling isn't genuine. It doesn't mean it <I>is</I> genuine, either. The line you mention seems to me to divide, not "real" from "false" but "convincing" from "unconvincing," since in any case we're dealing with art and artifice. Somehow Monk convinces me that his art is the vehicle for emotion, Oscar Peterson convinces me only that he has great chops and swings like nobody's busness. Why? I have no damn idea.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32354680.post-90138674260012549252008-06-09T08:13:00.000-04:002008-06-09T08:13:00.000-04:00Jodru: You're right, really; I just didn't mind. I...Jodru: You're right, really; I just didn't mind. I freely admit that I go to a movie bound and determined to have a good time, and it takes a special film indeed to overcome that sense of Midwestern industry. (<I>Armageddon</I>, for example—which may just mean that I'm more partial to a gratuitous <I>Wild One</I> reference that a gratuitous <I>Right Stuff</I> reference. Then again, <I>Temple of Doom</I> managed to plunder at least a decade's worth of the RKO catalog.) Although, absolutely, Karen Allen was nowhere near drunk or pissed off enough as I would have liked.<BR/><BR/>You might be as pleased as I was to note how much love <I>Temple of Doom</I> gets these days. My memory of the critical reception of <I>Last Crusade</I> is that it was along the lines of "at least it's not another <I>Temple</I>," but perusing the <I>Crystal Skull</I> reviews (and I perused darn near all of them) reveals that it's become a close second in the franchise, with even a couple of not-disreputable voices ranking it superior to the original. Short Round—his time has come!<BR/><BR/>(I confess to being all over that wildly predictable Roswell plot with glee. Back in the third or fourth grade, we were assigned a report on American History, and I opted for Project Blue Book and the subsequent government cover-up. The era being what it was, the nuns probably blamed it on a lack of medication rather than an excess.)Matthewhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10936327293692397100noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32354680.post-75519780874277977272008-06-08T18:55:00.000-04:002008-06-08T18:55:00.000-04:00The formula was fine. It's always been with Indy. ...The formula was fine. It's always been with Indy. But the problem here was the actual plot itself. Roswell? You gotta be kidding me! And what on earth was the point? Just to return the skull a few paces past where John Hurt's character had managed to go?<BR/><BR/>And as to craft, Spielberg's chops are always on point, but he let the overlit Kaminski style is soooooooo incredibly not welcome in the anamorphic world of Indiana Jones. Did we really need crap like a reference to The Wild One, which only, by the way, played up how little Shia LeBeouf resembles Marlon Brando?<BR/><BR/>One of the best things about all the films is that they are essentially self-contained little episodes in the continuing adventures of an absurdly heroic college professor. There is no relation between the Temple of Doom and Raiders by design. The 2nd happens before the first, in fact. Different girl. Different villain. It's all meant to be pure fun.<BR/><BR/>This installment overreached and as soon as Karen Allen turned up (though she was nearly the best thing in the film), it turned into a god-awful family adventure. The whole thing was so bad it was stunning. I couldn't believe that they felt they had to keep that plot so closely guarded.<BR/><BR/>The saddest thing is that Harrison Ford can still carry that kind of film. It's a shame he had such crap to work with this time around.jodruhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03316056147287208728noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32354680.post-11078429499398314582008-06-08T07:58:00.000-04:002008-06-08T07:58:00.000-04:00One of the subcategories of art that's always fasc...One of the subcategories of art that's always fascinated me are those artists for whom the emotions they're straining to contain are the emotions of craft—the joy/determination/defiance/surprise that a flawed human being can produce something so technically flawless. Is that a legitimate emotional playing field for creativity? Completely in the eye/ear of the beholder, certainly. Still, I always imagine that mathematicians get the same thrill from a great piece of mathematics as musicians do from a great piece of music. Craft <I>is</I> emotional, and for some artists, <I>that</I> emotion is the most important expressive vehicle. The ones we perceive as being more directly emotional? I wonder if the emotion of craft becomes a surrogate for the heightened versions of "everyday" emotions—or vice versa?<BR/><BR/>I find technically freewheeling music fun and sometimes moving, but the works I find <I>really</I> emotionally devastating (<I>La Valse</I> springs to mind as a good example—talk about straining at the seams, huh?) are always also impeccably crafted. Which takes the lead in those pieces? And how much of that has to do with myself as a listener? (A lot, I would guess.)<BR/><BR/>It's a terrific topic because I think it's one of the things that, paradoxically, a listener can perceive without any real technical knowledge—whether the craft of a piece is being deployed joyfully and/or insistently, or whether it's just note-spinning. The hard question is, where does it cross the line?Matthewhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10936327293692397100noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32354680.post-67571224414791767342008-06-07T22:21:00.000-04:002008-06-07T22:21:00.000-04:00Some might demur that you listen to music for the ...<I>Some might demur that you listen to music for the emotional effect, and craft is not emotion. But the emotional content depends on the craft with which it's implied, illustrated, imparted—and I would strenuously argue that craft carries its own emotional content, that there's a shared exaltation of the human condition in the apprehension of exceptional craft. (Cf. Palestrina, Bach, Schubert, Berg, Gershwin, not to mention Einstein, Joyce, Gehry, etc.) <BR/></I><BR/><BR/>Or Oscar Peterson? I think this is a terrific blog post but while I agree that imparting emotion requires craft, and that craft itself can arouse emotion (I have a strong affection for the opening shot of Sirk's "Written on the Wind" because the lighting and cinematography are just so fucking polished), the composer/improviser also has to convince me that craft is straining at the seams to contain the emotions being engaged. "Written on the Wind," for all its craftiness, is only a glossy soaper; it doesn't touch my heart, though it does tickle my funnybone.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com