Played 11 times
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Iyaz, “Replay”

Making a song about songs that you can’t get out of your head (even if it’s just a simile for puppy love) so well that you can’t get it out of your head is a very old trick by now; Kylie and ELO and even Irving Berlin back before songs meant records all had landmark hits with the conceit. So the song’s catchy — what else?

Well, aside from Iyaz’ gleeful Virgin Islands voice, there’s not much else to this late entry in the Soundtrack Of 2009. But that leaping hook, wrapping in on itself like a digital Moebius strip, is still a lot to be reckoned with (even if J. R. Rotem’s initials smeared across the beginning of a song always sets my teeth on edge). It’s the kind of hook that the past few years of pop have conditioned me to expect Akon to sing, only the flat, sombre timbre of his voice wouldn’t pack nearly the sugar-rush of Iyaz’ teen-pop crush.

I’m still old enough that I need to translate “shorty” to “baby” in my head in order to hear the lyrics as my generation would have written them — but I can nevertheless dig it.

steveagee:

Am I the only person who keeps getting this error?

Well, mine has less about getting pussy and more about getting caught up on my writing (and reading, and listening, and watching).

(this post was reblogged from steveagee)
The Princess And The Frog marks only the eighth movie I’ve seen in the theater this year (and probably the last, unless someone else is paying). Before I talk about it, let’s review:
January: CoralineI enjoyed it, but at a remove; specific sequences stick out in my memory, but the whole story hits the same “modern fairy-tale” beats that I was sick of when Gaiman was still doing Sandman.
May: Star Trek / Up I talked about Star Trek here, and haven’t changed my mind. Up was enjoyable but slight, the manic chases-and-reversals of the last hour not at all living up to the extremely powerful and even daring first half-hour.
September: The HangoverI was feeling miserable and self-pitying and exhausted and in a good deal of physical pain, so I went and saw this in its last week at a poky little theater on the way from work and felt a lot better when I left. Which says nothing about the movie, which I will never see again and retain fond memories of.
October/November: Where The Wild Things Are / Bright Star / An Education Which I wrote about here and here. (In brief, one really-good and two qualified not-bads.)
So apparently my taste in movies — or at least movies I’m willing to spend money to see — runs to children’s stories, crowd-pleasing smashes, and sedate British “quality” pieces. Which isn’t wrong (I happen to think the Pirates Of The Caribbean movies are the second-best adventure epic of the decade after LOTR) but it’s a good metric to use to dismiss my taste. That’s fine — I frequently do! — but I might add that of all those children’s movies I only liked one unreservedly, and that’s the one which drew complaints about “not really being for kids.”
Well, if there’s one thing The Princess And The Frog can’t be accused of, it’s “not being for kids.” It’s Disney at its neoclassical Disneyist, with beats and tensions and resolutions that people who (like me) grew up on The Little Mermaid and Beauty And the Beast and Aladdin will find all too familiar.
But it’s worth noting that I have to go back that far to find Disney movies to compare it to. The oldest of those movies is twenty years old, and even if Disney has only been out of the trad-animation game for five years, it feels like much longer. Checking Wiki, I was surprised to realize that Home On The Range and Brother Bear were even Disney movies; and the last movie that could fit under the much-bemoaned “Disney Princess” rubric was Mulan back in 1998.
Of course, what with the ubiquity of the DVDs especially among those with kids in their lives, the Disney juggernaut of the 90s has been omnipresent right through the past decade — and it’s the extracurricular stuff, all the merchandising and toys and costumes and plastic pink beds that people really object to, the movies just a convenient pretext for the real made-in-China money. But I don’t have kids, and I’m the kind of uncle that’s much more likely to buy books for my nieces than try to dress them up in some post-Victorian fantasy of innocence, so all I care about is whether the movie I’m going to watch is going to insult my intelligence.
(I don’t even much care what effect it has on the impressionable young girls who have been the focus of advance-screening handwringing. Will it teach them that all they need in life is a handsome prince? Will it reinforce near-anorexia as the ideal standard of beauty? Will it remove some essential quality of blackness from its heroine in the regimented Disney standardization of Princessitude? Not my area; and anyway what people get out of movies generally has far more to do with the people than the movies, you know?)
But I liked it. I liked it a lot. I’m a sucker for 20s-era anything, I’m a Randy Newman mark — though for his records much more than his soundtracks, which is good because this music is a lot closer to what he sings than what he does for hire — and I fucking love hot jazz and characters namedropping Louis Armstrong and Sidney Bechet would in most circumstances be more than enough to dispose me well towards a movie. But beyond all those things which could have been tailor-made to suit me, I enjoyed the story, which had much more wit and actual character beats than I remember from the last Disney movie I saw (Lilo & Stitch? Atlantis?), and I loved the densely-drawn, fluid look of the movie, which a lot of people have said is the hand-drawn animators showing off their stuff after so much time off, but which struck me as the kind of necessary world-building you need to do in order to make people sorry to leave the story behind. (As both a cartoonist and a prodigal fiction writer, I think about this kind of thing more than most people, maybe.)
But what impressed me the most about the movie was that segregation existed in it. It was never underlined with a line of dialogue (unless a banker’s sniffy “person of your … background” could count), but when Tiana got on a nearly-empty bus, she got off at the back; the customers in a black-owned restaurant were both black and white, but the blacks sat towards the kitchen and the whites towards the windows; and the only black people at a white party were catering or providing entertainment. It’s not ever addressed, because one of the imperatives of selling a movie internationally is tiptoeing around race, but if you want to have that conversation with your kids, the movie lets you. (Unlike Pocahontas, which is so virulently antihistorical that it still makes me want to throw up. And its songs suck too.)
Sure, I have some quibbles: the pictoral idealization of Tiana’s family works against their incorporation into a cartoon universe, so that there are some really clumsy images in the first ten minutes, and a handful of characters never fully gel, as if too many people were drawing them; as usual with Disney movies, it gets a bit unnecessarily manic towards the end (though kudos for having the balls to kill off a sympathetic character); and the point where She falls in love with Him seemed much more like fitting tab A to slot B than a natural outgrowth of character and incident.
But goddamn, anything that could have a musical setpiece based on Aaron Douglas murals is going to be one of my favorite movies of the year.

The Princess And The Frog marks only the eighth movie I’ve seen in the theater this year (and probably the last, unless someone else is paying). Before I talk about it, let’s review:

January: Coraline
I enjoyed it, but at a remove; specific sequences stick out in my memory, but the whole story hits the same “modern fairy-tale” beats that I was sick of when Gaiman was still doing Sandman.

May: Star TrekUp
I talked about Star Trek here, and haven’t changed my mind. Up was enjoyable but slight, the manic chases-and-reversals of the last hour not at all living up to the extremely powerful and even daring first half-hour.

September: The Hangover
I was feeling miserable and self-pitying and exhausted and in a good deal of physical pain, so I went and saw this in its last week at a poky little theater on the way from work and felt a lot better when I left. Which says nothing about the movie, which I will never see again and retain fond memories of.

October/November: Where The Wild Things AreBright StarAn Education
Which I wrote about here and here. (In brief, one really-good and two qualified not-bads.)

So apparently my taste in movies — or at least movies I’m willing to spend money to see — runs to children’s stories, crowd-pleasing smashes, and sedate British “quality” pieces. Which isn’t wrong (I happen to think the Pirates Of The Caribbean movies are the second-best adventure epic of the decade after LOTR) but it’s a good metric to use to dismiss my taste. That’s fine — I frequently do! — but I might add that of all those children’s movies I only liked one unreservedly, and that’s the one which drew complaints about “not really being for kids.”

Well, if there’s one thing The Princess And The Frog can’t be accused of, it’s “not being for kids.” It’s Disney at its neoclassical Disneyist, with beats and tensions and resolutions that people who (like me) grew up on The Little Mermaid and Beauty And the Beast and Aladdin will find all too familiar.

But it’s worth noting that I have to go back that far to find Disney movies to compare it to. The oldest of those movies is twenty years old, and even if Disney has only been out of the trad-animation game for five years, it feels like much longer. Checking Wiki, I was surprised to realize that Home On The Range and Brother Bear were even Disney movies; and the last movie that could fit under the much-bemoaned “Disney Princess” rubric was Mulan back in 1998.

Of course, what with the ubiquity of the DVDs especially among those with kids in their lives, the Disney juggernaut of the 90s has been omnipresent right through the past decade — and it’s the extracurricular stuff, all the merchandising and toys and costumes and plastic pink beds that people really object to, the movies just a convenient pretext for the real made-in-China money. But I don’t have kids, and I’m the kind of uncle that’s much more likely to buy books for my nieces than try to dress them up in some post-Victorian fantasy of innocence, so all I care about is whether the movie I’m going to watch is going to insult my intelligence.

(I don’t even much care what effect it has on the impressionable young girls who have been the focus of advance-screening handwringing. Will it teach them that all they need in life is a handsome prince? Will it reinforce near-anorexia as the ideal standard of beauty? Will it remove some essential quality of blackness from its heroine in the regimented Disney standardization of Princessitude? Not my area; and anyway what people get out of movies generally has far more to do with the people than the movies, you know?)

But I liked it. I liked it a lot. I’m a sucker for 20s-era anything, I’m a Randy Newman mark — though for his records much more than his soundtracks, which is good because this music is a lot closer to what he sings than what he does for hire — and I fucking love hot jazz and characters namedropping Louis Armstrong and Sidney Bechet would in most circumstances be more than enough to dispose me well towards a movie. But beyond all those things which could have been tailor-made to suit me, I enjoyed the story, which had much more wit and actual character beats than I remember from the last Disney movie I saw (Lilo & Stitch? Atlantis?), and I loved the densely-drawn, fluid look of the movie, which a lot of people have said is the hand-drawn animators showing off their stuff after so much time off, but which struck me as the kind of necessary world-building you need to do in order to make people sorry to leave the story behind. (As both a cartoonist and a prodigal fiction writer, I think about this kind of thing more than most people, maybe.)

But what impressed me the most about the movie was that segregation existed in it. It was never underlined with a line of dialogue (unless a banker’s sniffy “person of your … background” could count), but when Tiana got on a nearly-empty bus, she got off at the back; the customers in a black-owned restaurant were both black and white, but the blacks sat towards the kitchen and the whites towards the windows; and the only black people at a white party were catering or providing entertainment. It’s not ever addressed, because one of the imperatives of selling a movie internationally is tiptoeing around race, but if you want to have that conversation with your kids, the movie lets you. (Unlike Pocahontas, which is so virulently antihistorical that it still makes me want to throw up. And its songs suck too.)

Sure, I have some quibbles: the pictoral idealization of Tiana’s family works against their incorporation into a cartoon universe, so that there are some really clumsy images in the first ten minutes, and a handful of characters never fully gel, as if too many people were drawing them; as usual with Disney movies, it gets a bit unnecessarily manic towards the end (though kudos for having the balls to kill off a sympathetic character); and the point where She falls in love with Him seemed much more like fitting tab A to slot B than a natural outgrowth of character and incident.

But goddamn, anything that could have a musical setpiece based on Aaron Douglas murals is going to be one of my favorite movies of the year.

(this post was reblogged from barthel)

merlin:

The Beatles - “Yesterday”

Wikipedia: Yesterday (song):

It was the first official recording by The Beatles that relied upon a performance by a single member of the band: Paul McCartney was accompanied solely by a string quartet. The final recording differed so greatly from other works by The Beatles that the other three members of the band vetoed the release of the song as a single in the United Kingdom (however; in 1976, it was eventually issued as a single there). Although credited to “Lennon/McCartney”, the song was written solely by McCartney. It has been reported that Paul has asked Yoko Ono if she would consider reversing the songwriting credits on this song to read “McCartney/Lennon”. Ono has refused.

Of course she has. Because she’s ghastly.

Right. Because all that is at work here is a poor, longsuffering, overlooked, underattended, uncredited songwriter being held hostage to a sixty-year-old agreement by a vindictive hag.

Seriously, if people don’t know by now that “Yesterday” was the sole creation of Paul McCartney, is an incremental shift in the publishing credit going to change that? Nobody stands to gain or lose anything real by this — an equally valid interpretation of these [citation needed] events is that Paul just wants to feed his considerable ego.

But, no, that doesn’t fit the standard narrative of Yoko-as-demon-bitch destroying the pure male light with her female void. Oh, wait, sorry, that’s Dave Sim. Sorry. I get him confused with rock fans all the time.

(this post was reblogged from merlin)
Played 290 times
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

perpetua:

It would be a good idea for you to buy Paul F. Tompkins’ new album Freak Wharf.

Word. In fact I would go so far as to say that those leading Tompkins-less lives are missing out on some of the purest joy the world has on offer at the moment.

(this post was reblogged from perpetua)
(this post was reblogged from tomewing)

steveagee:

So for the past 2 1/2 days I decided to take a break from all social networking sites.  It was pretty amazing because I got more writing done in those two days than I have in the past two months…seriously!  The first day I felt like I was detoxing from crack!

I can honestly say the only bad thing about staying off these sites is that my tumblarity went from about 1,200 down to about 900.  God damn tumblarity!

Tumblarity: the bitch-mistress of social networking.

(this post was reblogged from steveagee)
We’ve developed a public culture in the United States in which it’s regarded as grossly naive to suggest that a Senator or an executive ought to do the right thing simply because it’s the right thing. But if you think of any major problem this country has ever solved—the Civil War, women’s suffrage, defeating Nazism, Civil Rights—it’s always required not just smart tactics, but moral behavior, people willing to cast risky votes, people willing to risk physical harm in combat or non-violent resistance. It’s been the same all around the world throughout history. If people don’t want to do the right thing, the right thing doesn’t get done. On climate, in particular, a huge swathe of the American elite has simply refused to acknowledge any sort of duty or obligation.

Matt “Motherfucking” Yglesias dropping cold hard truth.

It’s times like these that I wish I could be as unselfconscious a propagandist as certain older relatives of mine and spam everyone in my e-mail inbox with copy/pasted pieces. Instead I’ll settle for posting it on Tumblr where no one, I’m pretty sure, will disagree with a word.