Girl in a Cage

Moth-u-laaaa

I believe that one of my solemn responsibilities as a parent is to make sure the children are well-acquainted with the classics. Thus, I made sure they saw the original King Kong before the Peter Jackson version came out. (And I, for one, can't wait! A certain member of the household rented and quickly returned the video game, as it was somewhat too intense, but it looked great to me--it really seems to be an attempt to put you in the movie, rather than hanging some conventional video game stuff on the skeleton of the movie. )

And, several months ago, the entire family watched Godzilla Vs. Mothra. Now, the part of this film that really stayed with us all was the fact that two tiny women (by which I mean not tiny like 4'10", but tiny like 4") sang this little Mothra song. We sang it for several weeks around here. It goes something like this: "Moth-u-laaaaaa-aaa! Moth-u-laaaa--aaa!"

Well, I'm proud to report that my top-notch parenting skills are bearing fruit, as last night, one of the children was heard to exclaim: "Look at that! There are five moth-u-las on the screen!" Parents, take note--early introduction to the classics can really lead to these great works of art being woven into the rich tapestry of your children's lives.

Those Happy Friends

So for some reason, I was thinking about the Enchanted Voyage ride at Kings Island, which is now a Scooby Doo haunted house, and before that was some kind of smurf thing. When I was a kid, though, it was a shrine to all things Hanna Barbera, where you would float in a magical fiberglas trough and see your favorite Hanna Barbera characters in animatronic motion while this catchy, annoying song played in various permutations (i.e., with calliope arrangement in the circusy part, spooky music in the haunted housey part, etc.) . I couldn't remember the whole song, but thanks to the wonder of the internet, I found it. Here it is:

Cartoon friends and funny faces
Jinx and those little meece he chases
Ant Hill Mob, the Wacky Racers
Live in my TV

I'm friends with Fred who yells out Yabba Dabba Dabba Doo
Bosom Buddy Barney too.
And Scooby Dooby where are you.
I love that mumblin' bear
I laugh at him until I hurt

And when it's,
Banana Splits
You don't eat them for dessert

Bristle Hound is not a stranger.
He saves Lambsy when in danger.
Yogi Bear outsmarts the ranger
All in my TV
Those happy friends who live in my TV.

What amazed me about this is that it was already out of date when I was a kid--it's kind of weird that they left it intact until the Great Smurf Putsch of the mid 80's. (Come to think of it, I guess the Smurfs were pretty much over by the time they staged their Enchanted Voyage coup). I've seen Wacky Races on Boomerang, but it was already gone when I was a kid. And I have no idea about Jinx or Bristle Hound. And who, exactly, is that mumbling bear? Or is that a misremembered line from the guy who originally posted this?

I suppose what seems most bizarre about it is the song's insistence that these characters are your friends. "I'm friends with Fred.." Ah, but is Fred friends with you, young TV addict?

There Must Be Some Mistake

Well, I heard on the radio that Maxim magazine had compiled a list of the 25 greatest short dudes of all time. Naturally I wanted to check it out, but you can't look at Maxim articles on line unless you're a subscriber (which I am not and can't be, by virtue of the fact that I'm an adult), so my other option is to go page through the magazine in CVS (which, again, I can't do by virtue of being an adult). So I can only guess as to the contents not revealed in the press release, but here's what I do know: I'm fine with Angus Young beating Napoleon, but he really shouldn't beat Prince, who is a better guitar player and all-around musician and, though he seems to have gone off the rails on a crazy train recently, still damn cool. Glad to see both Frodo and Sam making the list, but Doug Flutie, at 5'10'', is simply not a short guy. And, uh, I mean, well, maybe it's just not in the press release, but, hey, I'm a short guy. I'm just saying.

Do Something Pretty While You Can

Happy Thanksgiving everybody! I was going to assemble a list of all the books, movies, and music I was thankful for today, but I kept having a hard time getting past Belle and Sebastian.

In the spring of 2004, I won Dear Catastrophe Waitress on the radio as part of some Coachella (sp?) prize pak that included an album by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, which did nothing for me, and some Swedish band with a generic name like The Sounds or something which was spectacularly awful. I listened to Dear Catastrophe Waitress in the background a few times and thought Belle and Sebastian sounded kinda like Donovan, but not "Season of the Witch" Donovan, but maybe more like "Jennifer Juniper" Donovan. But then this line jumped out at me: "Piazza New York catcher, are you straight or are you gay?" All the sudden I reexamined the whole record and found that I really liked the twisted lyrical sensibility paired with the beautiful, melodic songs, and I listened to it obsessively. I then bought most of the other records, and since then, I've consistenly come back to these records, while pretty much everything else comes and goes. (For example, several months ago I was obsessed with The Mooney Suzuki's Alive and Amplified, which is a great record, but now I barely listen to it, whereas I probably still listen to Tigermilk and The Boy With the Arab Strap at least once a week).

I'm not sure why I like this band so much. Lyrically, I suppose they're closest to the Smiths, but not self-consciously mopey like that, and usually just clever rather than too-clever-by-half, which was always Morrisey's downfall. Musically--well, let's just say it's not the hardest-rockin' band on earth, but what I really like is that both in the melodies and the arrangements, they really seem concerned with creating something beautiful. I was listening to "Rollercoaster Ride" earlier and just feeling like it would be fine with me if it went on all night. (And I usually lose interest in a song at about the three-and-a-half minute mark.) Most of the songs have very busy arrangements, but the songs aren't really very produced, so that on the live show I watched on the internet (Oh, yeah, I am an obsessed, geeky fan. If you are too, catch it at: http://www.xfm.co.uk/Article.asp?b=multimedia&id=105357 ), the songs sounded pretty much like they do on the record, but in a good, "wow, they don't need studio trickery to create something beautiful" way rather than "oh, bleh, it's just like the record" way.

I could go on and on--there are a few missteps--"Electronic Renaissance" and the musical allusion to "Nights in White Satin" that mars the otherwise fantastic "Photo Jenny", but overall, they have put out a remarkably consistent, top-notch body of work, and their music has made me happy.

So, on the off-chance that you're reading (unlikely, I suppose, unless musicians auto-google as much as writers), B&S, thanks!

Geeking Out, Springfield Style

We've been watching Season Six of the Simpsons, alternating with H.R. Pufnstuf, which just gets weirder and weirder. Though I do think my fear of Witchiepoo is ebbing. Judy, the frog with the gold-lame hotpants, kind of frightents me now, though.

Today, whilst grocery shopping (and I know I've probably said this before, but shopping at a place called BJ's Club is just nowhere near as entertaining as the name might suggest), I was, for some reason, obsessing about how "Lemon of Troy" really gives Martin Prince probably his two best lines in the entire series to date. "Here's a tip! Put a pinch of sage in your boots, and all day long, the spicy scent is your reward!" and "Spring forth, burly protector!"

Ahem.

In other news, is there no limit to Brendan Halpin's arrogance? Today he takes on beloved Frank McCourt in the Boston Globe! Oooh, that Halpin guy really frosts me! http://www.boston.com/ae/books/articles/2005/11/20/mccourts_recycled_school_days/

Rock and Roll Bottom One

So my rock and roll top three got me thinking of my rock and roll bottom three. But it's so hard to narrow down--I mean, I've seen so many bad performances it's hard to know where to begin. A tired, listless Billy Idol on the Rebel Yell tour...Dylan backed by G.E. Smith, mumbling his way amelodically through unrecognizable versions of his hits...Sinatra, voice shot to hell and too drunk to remember the words to New York New York(not technically Rock and Roll, and actually fell into the "so awesomely bad it's good" category)..not to mention more bad local bands than I can remember, though one particularly awful one called Braindance stands out.

But only one performance really stood out as just epically awful. Went to see Bob Mould solo acoustic in 1993, and opening up was a singer-songwriter I'd never heard of, though I've certainly heard a lot about him since. Vic Chestnutt couldn't really sing, was hostile to the audience, and wrote songs so awful they parodied themselves: I mean, how do you mock somebody who comes out on stage and says, "This one's called Sad Peter Pan" and then actually sings a song called "Sad Peter Pan?" For the first several numbers, I thought it was some kind of cruel, unfunny, In Living Color-style comedy sketch about a guy in a wheelchair who can't sing or write songs who is somehow a professional musician. Several numbers in, it became clear that this actually wasn't a gag, and the crowd caught up to Vic's hostility. I usually feel like performers who suck have been punished enough, but this was the closest I've ever come to throwing stuff at the stage. It was really that bad. And then Bob Mould came out and hammered on his 12-string and screamed for an hour and a half, but that was only run-of-the-mill bad.

Hmmm...as I write this, I'm remembering that I saw Neil Young on the "Trans" tour, so I may actually have to revise my rankings.

Metablogging publicity whore

So yesterday's post about China Mieville, which also referenced Dave Eggers, got about ten times more hits than I usually get in a day. Perhaps people are googling those authors and coming here? In hopes of drawing yet more eyeballs to my page, I offer the following tidbits: "I am a huge China Mieville fan. Like Mieville, Brendan Halpin's characters inhabit a world that feels almost real." (I mean, the first part is true, and the second part is technically true...) or maybe, "I read Brendan Halpin's memoirs: they were like Dave Eggers' Heartbreaking Work, etc. , except without the long, boring parts you skimmed over about the magazine and the Real World audition, and also without the too-clever-by-half introduction!" Or maybe "I'm a big fan of Nick Hornby, and Brendan Halpin's new novel, Long Way Back, available January 3rd, reads like the novel Nick Hornby would write if he were American and obsessed with grief!" (True! When I balked at paying to replace my lost copy of High Fidelity, my old friend Peter remarked: "Jesus! You owe him at least that much!") How about this: "I understand Brendan Halpin, author of Losing My Faculties, is going to review Frank McCourt's Teacher Man in the Boston Globe this Sunday! I can't wait!" (That's actually true.) Now the question is, will all the googlers drawn by the big names actually pick up my bookss, or will they avoid my books out of principle, since I cynically played on their interest in somebody else to plug myself? Time will tell!

I'm Not Jealous

I'm reading China Mieville's new short story collection, Looking For Jake. Geez, is that guy a great writer. (Yes, yes, Iron Council blew, but nobody bats a thousand.). He's such a great writer that I can't even be jealous of his success. I mean, most successful writers, I can be jealous of their success because I think I'm as good as or better than them. (And I can hate the little McSweeney's clique, especially because they haven't asked me to contribute anything to one of their gazillion anthologies. And because Dave Eggers spends his free time setting up these centers to teach urban kids to write, so he's more successful and a better person than me. Grrrr.) (But, I mean, "this is a drawing of a stapler." Jesus. )But, anyway, China Mieville is incredibly imaginitive, writes beautifully, and (with the notable exception of Iron Council) tells engaging stories with interesting characters. Perdido Street Station is one of the best books I ever read, and The Scar is also excellent. I'm just not even in the same league as this guy, so I can honestly say, with not even a tinge of jealousy, that I wish him all kinds of success.

Choke the Chicken

After nearly nine years of parenthood, I've come up with the following four-tier rating scale for kids' movies.

Level 1--You should go see this movie even if you don't have kids. (Recently, I'd put Wallace and Gromit on this tier)

Level 2--You should go see this movie with the kids. (Sky High--surprisingly entertaining!)

Level 3--Rent this movie and watch it with the kids. (Maybe something like Racing Stripes.)

Level 4--Rent this movie and park the kids in front of it when you have something more entertaining to do. Like vacuuming.

Chicken Little is a definite Level 4. Warning, parents of America! Avoid this movie! It blows! Learn from my sad mistake! Ugh.

Honestly, it's infuriating how awful this movie is. People know how to make good movies for kids, so I have to assume that a lackluster effort like this just means they didn't think they had to bother to make it any good. And, of course, they got our butts in the seats, so maybe they're right.

A personal pet peeve that may not bother other people as much as it does me: Why does every movie for kids have to have a dead parent in it? It's like they can't be bothered to do the work of creating a likeable, sympathetic character, so they just kill the parents to create instant sympathy and try to give their piece of crap movie some emotional resonance they haven't earned.

Walking With a Ghost

I was thrilled when I heard the White Stripes' cover of Tegan and Sara's "Walking With a Ghost" on Sirius 26 last night. (Why, oh why, don't you have satellite radio yet? You probably pay at least 40 bucks a month for crappy TV with commercials, but dozens of channels of commercial-free music isn't worth 10 bucks a month?)

I thought I was thrilled because it was just so cool that the faux-sibling act was covering the vrai-sibling act, that this unexpected cover choice seems to expand the musical community or something like that.

Then I thought I was thrilled because this is really the promise of the digital music era starting to be fulfilled: we don't have to wait until a band has 12 new songs to get new product, and bands can do these kind of "just for fun" things and put them out there right away without waiting for another Big Product Launch.

Finally, though, I realized I was actually thrilled because if Jack White is covering a song I love, that must mean I'm cool, right? " Hey, Jack!" I wanted to say to the radio, "I have that record too!" Now, I love Jack White like a little brother, but he was in high school when I was teaching high school. He ought to be looking to me for what's cool, dammit! Not the other way around!

Then again, Tegan and Sara's "Walking With a Ghost" was on our wedding mix CD, along with the Stripes' "Hotel Yorba." Maybe somebody left their CD in an airport somewhere or something, and Jack White picked it up and said, "Whoa--Brendan and Suzanne are into some cool stuff! I gotta get with it!" Yes, now that I think of it, that is the only credible explanation.

By the way, it's good, but I prefer the original.