12 of 12: February

I’ve been spoiled by this New York winter. Thanks global warming. I forgot that February in New York is supposed to be, you know, cold. This morning was bitterly cold, but a balmy day compared to yesterday when the temperature never made it out of the teens. February. Cold. I should really remember that and not get lost in the days when the mercury rises to heights it really shouldn’t. This is one long preface to address why some of these pictures are out of focus. You try holding your camera steady with wind and snow whipping around your face.

The MTA always making things easy for you, but once you are outside the station… which way is east? West? That’s anyone’s guess.

One of the reason I love New York is the way the sun rises over the buildings. The Grand Canyon has nothing on this sun rise.

At my desk, I like to keep a map of my nearest emergency exits. If my office goes up in flames, I am abandoning ship. Also at my cube, I like to keep pictures of the places I’d rather be and the things I’d rather be doing, namely the Isle of Skye in Scotland and shopping at Busted Tees.
Read the rest »

Daft Punk Is Playing At My House

I didn’t plan on watching the Grammy, but there I was on my couch with my television tuned to the one awards show that is a guaranteed snooze time when it isn’t awkward. I had company over and they wanted to watch. Halfway through the celebration (in the way that Catholic mass is a “celebration”), the very modest Kayne West took the stage to sing his hit “Stronger”. About a minute into the performance, I noticed the pyramid and I spent the next few moments just waiting for it. About five minutes in, it happened. Daft Punk made their first live television appearance in their sixteen year career for one about a minute, the Grammys redeemed itself.

This performance capped off a year where Daft Punk reclaimed their throne as dance’s undisputed kings, despite all those in the know more than ready to hand the title over to others waiting in the wings. Daft Punk was not ready to hand over their crown. Those of us who experienced their live show are more than willing to be ruled by them for decades to come. I do have to learn to talk about them to other people who have no idea who they are without sounding like a crazy person, as I did with my family members the other night. The following from the Guardian may be a start:

The Daft Punk Live Revue and Alive 2007 to me suggest another manifesto: they want to prove that rock’n'roll is not the only music form that you can take to the live stage convincingly. Rockists may point out that even Daft Punk recognise what they do isn’t traditional rock’n'roll so Alive 2007 couldn’t possible succeed as an exciting live document. Daft Punk even refer to themselves as the people who run the Daft Punk machine and party but that still doesn’t detract from the warm quality of everything they touch. Since the beginning of Daft Punk, both Thomas Bangalter and Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo have been obsessed with Brian Wilson and the idea that music can make you feel loved. An equally strong fascination with Primal Scream’s Screamadelica means that they combine the precision of electronic music with the humanity of rock.

All this is just talk and nothing of substance. Nothing I can show to you and say, “here, here is why those French blokes inspire such fanaticism from their fans.” Then, I found their official post-performance Grammy photo:

They have glowing Adidas, ladies and gentlemen. Glowing robot suits and glowing Adidias. If that doesn’t inspire fanaticism, I don’t know what will.

The Five Ways To Save Cashmere Mafia From Itself

Despite my initial assessment of ABC’s Cashmere Mafia still holding firm, I have found myself helplessly charmed by the show. Perhaps the word “charmed” is too strong, but there is a vague attraction to the show. Mafia is like dating someone that is nice enough and there are moments of potential, potent attraction, but those moments pass, so you keeping seeing them, hoping that one of those moments catch fire and you find yourself head over heels in love. Right now, Mafia, we are still stuck in the friends zone.

Cashmere Mafia is a ship without a course, floating directionless and limp across the open sea. The actors are charming enough and their chemistry has settled into a nice easy flow that does lend itself to the notion that these four women would hang out, but other than that, we’ve got a big, fat nothing. What the writers of this show don’t seem to get (or not least are not doing well enough) is that in these types of shows, we keep tuning in for a narrative payoff. Remember back to the first season of Grey’s Anatomy, when we were all on pins and needles waiting for the moment when people would find out that McDreamy and Meredith were hooking up on the sly. Payoff. Or, better still, the first season of Veronica Mars, where the season was working towards the resolution of Lilly Kane’s murder, not to mention who took Veronica’s virginity. Dramatic. Payoff. Right now, Cashmere Mafia hasn’t established any story arcs that will keep me invested in the show. The show’s only saving grace, besides its talented cast, is that television is a virtual wasteland and the show is more interesting than watching paint dry.. barely.

As someone who would love this show to turn things around, mainly because I think all four actresses are up to the challenge of better material, here are five things that could, possibly, save Cashmere Mafia from itself.

Dump Caitlin’s gay storyline … until you get the balls to do it right.
I am beginning to think we are decades away from a network series handling a gay storyline the way it should be handled. We still treat “the gay” as this odd state of existence akin to having six fingers or a third nostril, some freakish “difference” that defines gay characters so completely that it leaves little room for an actual, you know, character. Five episodes into this show, we know Caitlin, the show’s token gay woman … or bisexual… or straight gal, she hasn’t figured out which, about as well as we know that uncle who used to visit us once every two years during Christmas. In other words, not at all. It is not a stretch to say this storyline has been as explicit as 1961’s The Children’s Hour, but lets hope the lesbian doesn’t hang herself at the end of this one. I would like to believe it is network meddling that is putting the breaks on her character development and her romance with girlfriend. Somehow that pains me less than thinking that the writers feel they have sufficiently serviced this character and her storyline because, newsflash, not working.

My solution: Deep-six the storyline. Caitlin and her girlfriend end their relationship, but leave the door open for possible exploration later, you know, when you have the balls to tell it right. Caitlin realizes that shutting the door on half the planet’s population is not the best plan to finding a soulmate.

For the love of God, use your cellphones.
One of the more ridiculous things we are forced to swallow in this show is that these high-powered women in power can drop everything to have impromptu lunches, dinner and drinks with their gal pals, yet have to schedule time with their kids. Not only are these people bad parents, but do you really expect me to believe no one in their offices are looking for them while they are off gossip with their friends. We live in the digital age, people. These women don’t need to see each other every damn day to be up in each other’s business. It’s called email, texting, conference calls and cellphones. They should be in constant contact with each other, their bluetooth ear pieces firmly in place, planning their outfits for their next important meeting. Perhaps, there is a bit of resentment on my part since they cut my favorite scene from the original pilot.

My solution: More blackberry addiction. More conference calls. More interaction via the ‘net. That’s how my friends and I roll. Also, for a group of friends who seem to be as close as these four women are, it surprises me that they are not more involved in each other’s family lives. You would think these women would spend their weekends brunching at each other houses, with their boys talking business in the next room and their kids running around the living room.

Don’t make other women look like morons, sluts, gold-diggers or all of the above.
Five episodes into this damn show, I don’t think we met a woman not part of their group who wasn’t some combination of vindictive, evil, stupid and slutty. Zoe’s assistant, Katherine, takes the cake as the show’s most offensive creation, a woman who has slept her way up the corporate ladder and is the epitome of every stereotype this show is supposedly trying to stamp out. Way to go.

My solution: Introduce a couple of other powerful women who struggle with the same issues of “having it all” and perhaps other women who aren’t as high up on the corporate ladder, but who aren’t, you know, whores. Just a thought.

Make Them Work Together
One of the problems with a show based on friendships rather than, say, a work environment (i.e. all characters working at the same place) is the constant struggle to make sure everyone gets their equal share of screentime, but also make the script feel like one whole story, instead of little vignettes viewers are jerked away from every few minutes. Right now, this is exactly what the show feels like, mini-stories, none of them fully developed, in an episode that feels more like a tossed than a beautifully proportioned main course. Is anyone else suddenly hungry? Admittedly, this one is probably the show’s biggest issue and the hardest to solve.

My solution: Are you telling me that an executive in the hotel business, the cosmetics business and the publishing business couldn’t find a project that would find them working together? In New York City? I find that hard to believe. I mean, hello, FASHION WEEK or the hundreds of other events that would find these businesses in each other’s radars. You would think these friends would find ways to work together. We kill two birds with one stone here, combining a few character’s storylines, but each staying within their own arenas. Another idea could be a story arc that involved one of the women losing her job only to be hired by their close friend and the fallout of your friend suddenly becoming your boss. Comedy gold, right there. Are you writing these ideas down?

Delve More Into Their Pasts
We still don’t know the circumstances of how these women became friends and frankly, I’d love to see the first time tough-talking, snarky Caitlin first laid eyes on ice queen Juliet. And what group of friends doesn’t constantly reference the past in normal conversation? I don’t think this will help the show story wise, but it would certainly provide the characters some much needed texture.

My solution: The Mafia’s fifteen university reunion is coming up which causes some old stories and old tensions to stir up among the group. Awkward flashbacks are optional in this episode.

How I Survived the Strike: Television Gone Too Soon

What’s this I hear? Progress at the table between the writer’s and producers. We could have new episodes on air before the end of next month? Well, if the producers don’t fuck this up. Sadly, this news is bittersweet. During this long drought with little to sustain me, but grown men rolling around in spandex for money and fashion designers battling for a clothing line, I found that a person cannot survive on reality shows alone, no matter how much fatty goodness is in episodes of Project Runway. I turned to my Netflix queue for comfort during these difficult times, consuming massive quanities of Buffy (which I’ve already mentioned) and Battlestar Galactica. Those shows seems to fill the void nicely, but I longed for something more.

The last two weeks, I’ve feasted on shows that were gone way before their time, unfairly canceled by those in charge before they really got a chance to find an audience, much to my despair. These three shows only lasted a season, but in their short run, they have earned my devotion. In other words, I need these shows on DVD right now.

Kitchen Confidential

The Plot Fairy: Jack Bourdain, played by Bradley Cooper, had it all but that all changed after one wild night. Four years later, he only has a great girlfriend and an average job working in her restaurant as an aide in Pizza Chain Kitchen. But, when Pino Lugeria contacts him to become Head Chef of his famous restaurant, Nolita, Jack knows this is an offer he cannot refuse. To further back up the offer, his girlfriend tells him he cannot afford to pass up an opportunity like this.

He then recruits his old friends, Seth Richman (Nicholas Brandon) the pastry chef, Teddy Wong (John Cho), the seafood Chef and Steven (Owain Yeoman) who is his sous-chef. Not everything is perfect, given that the previous wait staff, particularly Mimi (Bonnie Somerville), believe he will run the restaurant into the ground. But Pino, and everyone, will be witnessing if he is capable of steering clear of his old ways.

Why I Miss It: Fox pulled the plug on this show three episodes into its thirteen episode run. Paired with Arrested Development during this short run, it failed to capture an audience and sadly, we were the losers. Alias alum Bradley Coooper proved he could carry this comedy, a cross between Arrested Development and Kitchen Nightmares, and made the dashing leading man, but as with most ensemble comedies, its the wacky sidekicks that provide the show its heart and soul. By episode six, the hilarious “Rabbit Test,” the show found its balance of off-the-wall humor and a glimpse into the inner workings of the kitchen’s inner-personal relationships. As the series drew to a close, we had a show that had found its voice. Mimi, the owner’s daughter and the head waitress, was promoted to owner, much to Jack’s dismay and slight attraction. The baby-faced, innocent Jim found love with the beautiful if slightly dim-witted hostess Tanya. Another episode or two, this show could have reached How I Met Your Mother levels of brilliant or, dare I say it, 30 Rock. Watching the last episode, knowing there were no more, was a bitter pill to swallow.

Grosse Point

The Plot Fairy: This “show-within-a-show” comedy from Darren Star takes a satirical look at the action behind the scenes of a teen prime-time soap. It centers on the on and off-camera antics of five actors who star in a fictional high school drama called Grosse Pointe.

Why I Miss It: Unlike Kitchen Confidential, I do have to give the WB credit for sticking with this show for more than thirteen episodes. Still, seventeen episodes was not nearly enough. Producer Darren Star created this show as a very thinly-veiled spoof of his former paycheck, the mega-90s hit 90210. If you are paying the least bit of attention, you will figure out, within moments, whom these characters are based on. We have the bitchy, bad girl who plays the show’s resident victim, the hunky, hounddog who plays her brother, the actor who is much too old to be playing someone in High School and the sweet, innocent girl who might be too innocent for the business. There are simply too many things to love about this show, namely, the way it jumps between the teen soap and the behind the scenes action. The teen soap scenes take playful jabs at 90210 and Dawson’s Creek, while the insider Hollywood scenes are peppered with lines like, “All this time I thought Hunter was a bitch. Turns out she was just hungry.” The series ended with a cliffhanger as Hunter got married to man only in it for the money and the relationship between stand-in Dave and the sweet Marcy was left unresolved.

Keen Eddie

The Plot Fairy: Eddie Arlette (Mark Valley), a New York City police detective, is sent to London on the trail of criminals that escaped from a failed drug bust. A tip leads the police to believe that the criminals went to England. Complicating matters, Eddie’s girlfriend dumps him right before he leaves, and he is responsible for a dog, which he takes with him to London. While “temporarily” in London, Eddie is teamed up with Monty Pipin (Julian Rhind-Tutt), and reports to Superintendent Nathanial Jonhnson (Colin Salmon).

Eddie rents a flat in London, and is surprised to find a young woman living in it (Fiona Bickerton, played by Sienna Miller). They come to an arrangement, and the young woman that is supposed to be off at college, and the temporary police officer from NYC will share the apartment.

Why I Miss It: This is a show that didn’t stand a chance. Influenced by the films of Guy Ritchie, the show is your classic “fish out of water” story with a brash New York City cop thrust into the culture shock of London. The show debuted during the summer of 2003. After the first episode, I knew it would be healthier for me if I didn’t watch any more of it. I liked it too much to become attached to it. I was right. It was cancelled before it could complete its thirteen episode run. Watching it now, it doesn’t surprise me that it never clicked with an American audience. It is far too British. It probably would have been more at home, airing in the U.K. on Channel 4 and imported to the States on BBC America. It’s Britishness is one of the reasons I loved it. Sienna Miller, playing the obligatory “I hate you, but am slightly attracted to you” possible love interest for our NYPD detective, shows an amazing amount of charm here, a charisma that hasn’t translated all too well on the big screen. This was a procedural with a distinctive flavor. If this show had only debuted a couple of seasons later, it could have been paired on Fox’s lineup with Bones or House and maybe then it refreshing blend of off-kilter humor could have found an audience.

Pop Culture Rant: Why Isn’t Donna Summer in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame?

While eating dinner, VH1 Classics, the channel that justifies my gigantic digital cable bill, ran an advert for the Rock N’ Roll Hall of Fame ceremony next month. Besides making me feel ancient (it’s been twenty years since Madonna’s debut album), it also brought up a nagging question, why isn’t Donna Summer in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame? I know what you are thinking, you can’t be serious, can you? A disco act? Her relevance in music history is questionable, at best. I would respond, rather passionately like a minister delivering a sermon atop the pulpit, that if it wasn’t for Donna Summer, most of the music we are grooving to at this moment would sound very different.

Like most artists of that era, Donna Summer has bore the scarlet letter of being a ‘disco queen’, a genre of music that, rather famously, bore the ire of many, many people. I never understood why this genre of music is so hated still, decades after its demise. Most people would argue that it was irrelevant fluff, a novelty sound that had its moment but failed to influence anything or anyone beyond its time. I would say those people are very wrong and very misinformed. Disco, for all its association with decedence, drugs, and the sort of life that anyone with a brain would deem irresponsible nowadays, is still alive and well if you just know where to look.

And here is where I make the world’s most controversial statement, I think Donna Summer’s I Feel Love is the most influential track of the past thirty years. Covered by everyone from this year’s inductee Madonna to the performance artist Blue Man Group (the coolest cover I could find was a 1979 Live cover by Blonde). The songs influence can be heard on tracks by artists like Kylie Minogue and Moby, who openly admitted to stealing the song at a concert I attended. The song mapped out the future of dance, house and electronic music and with it, the course of popular music. Doubt me. Have you ever listened to any track Timbaland has ever produced?

Produced by German producer Giorgio Moroder, the song was a breakthrough, using an entirely synthesized backing track instead of the usual swelling, orchestra arrangement. The song, part of Donna Summer’s 1977 concept album “I Remember Yesterday”, represented the “future” in that piece. Producer Brian Eno recognized the track’s importance right away, telling David Bowie, “this is it, look no further. This single is going to change the sound of club music for the next fifteen years.”

A testment to the song and the artist who helped create it is that it sounds this good done with a live backing band.

Artists You Ought To Know: Vampire Weekend & Adele

And we are back again with an another post in the series where I pretend my music taste is a lot cooler than it really is (i.e. see Yacht Rock entry two posts down). I am not one to take internet music blog hype terribly seriously. Sure, I pay attention, but if one spin doesn’t produce that fuzzy, groovy feeling I attribute to instant music love (the same I get when I eat a good burger), then I move right along. Over the past couple of years, the great, big music blog machine predicted huge things for the likes of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and Cold War Kids, but I wouldn’t work on getting them gigs at Madison Square Garden just yet. This week, it’s two artists that most of you have probably never heard of, but probably should. The hype machine may be right about these two very different acts. As NY Magazine’s Vulture column brilliantly mocks, with people like me loving these sort of acts, expect a backlash at any moment. Check them out while they are still “cool,” but something tells me I’m about a week too late.

Vampire Weekend

Who They Are: Vampire Weekend is an indie rock band from New York City signed to XL Recordings. Their debut self-titled debut album dropped last week to universal acclaim in both the blog press and music industry trades. The four members of the band met while attending Columbia University. Their sound is described as “Upper West Side Soweto”, which sounds takes elements of African popular music and puts a light pop-ska bend to it. Their album is the definition of catchy.

Recommended For: Those of you who wore a whole in your vinyl copy of Paul Simon’s “Graceland” and loved Peter Gabriel’s forary into world music, but love to dance around to Madness, The Clash and can’t get enough of Dance Hall Crashers.

» Vampire Weekend - A-Punk (via YouTube)

Adele

Who She Is: Vampire Weekend’s XL labelmate, Adele has certainly had a good week. Her first album debuted at the top of the U.K. album charts after months of buzz, while we here in the States were still buzzing about Amy Winehouse. Adele is heir apparent to the throne Amy Winehouse never really sat in, as British’s best soul singer. The most impressive thing about her is the fact that she is only nineteen, yet has the vocal bravado of someone much older. While I adore Winehouse, despite her self-destructive streak, I think Adele’s voice is much more pop-friendly, a throwback to soul singers like Gladys Knight or the late, great Dusty Springfield.

Recommended For: If you have a rabid weakness for British songbirds like Winehouse, Lily Allen, Kate Nash and Corinne Bailey Rae, this is another album to add to your collection.

» Adele - Chasing Pavements (via YouTube)

Now go on and spread the word. These acts will only be cool for about five more days.

“I Really Need This Job!”

My first exposure to the musical A Chorus Line (and any musical quite honestly) was an “I Love New York” ad campaign and even back then, the allure of their gold sequined costumes mesmerized my imagination. The original run of the show closed in 1990 well before I had an income to buy a ticket and I thought my chance to see those costumes on stage was lost forever. Last year, the show opened anew and I knew, eventually, I would have to see it, particularly once I got my hands on the original cast recording and could stop humming the show’s opening number. Yesterday, I finally fulfilled my destiny and made the kid in me who was awe-struck by a perfectly formed line in top hats very happy.

A Chorus Line is a relic, let’s just put that out on the table now. With Broadway dominated by musicals that are all flashy Hollywood magic (I’ll use airquote selectively for that last bit) at the cost of real substance, A Chorus Line is a throwback to era when a show was all about the music and the moves. The set is a bare stage, some colored light and a mirror and frankly, I had more fun at this musical then I had at certain others that had all that flash. Like I said, it is a relic, one that should be treasured, studied and adored.

Twenty years year, the material may seem a bit dated. After all between 1976 and 2008, how many “a dancer’s life” stories have we seen in film and television. Yet, this glimpse into the “gypsy” life of the performers who never get their names up in lights still moves us in all the right places. These often faceless performers in the background become people over the course of the piece. We care about some. We don’t care for others. The dancing is what is truly inspired. These people who have given their lives, sacrificed their bodies for their passion is, in my opinion, what makes this work so fascinating.

The show isn’t without its problems. With no intermission, there are places were it drags, yet there is no escaping the potent vibrancy of this piece when these performers dance. The show’s best number is the electrifying opening number, which is still my favorite in any musical I’ve seen (and now that I’ve actually seen it live, even more so). In a world where people are handed “fame” for doing absolutely nothing, you have to marvel at people who can act, dance and sing, at times at the same time. These performers sweat. They strain. They push. They pull. And it is all for a craft that reduces them to anonymous clogs in a greater Broadway machine, a craft that will use their bodies and spit them out in the end.

As I wrote last month, the show has this undertone to it that really makes me wonder what it is ultimately saying about this Broadway machine:

I’ve come to adore the 1975 musical A Chorus Line, a work I’ve avoided for the past twenty years because this film version scarred me for life. Now, I see the musical’s cynical brilliance, a clever dissection of a dancer’s life that actually makes you root for these individuals losing their identities to the monotony of a chorus line. Just another faceless, nameless clog in the machinery of show business. It is such a 70’s musical.

The show’s creator, the late Michael Bennett, said of the final number:

I want the audience to walk out of the theatre saying, ‘Those kids shouldn’t be in a chorus!’ And I want people in the audience to go to other shows and think about what’s really gone into making that chorus . . . It fades with them kicking. That’s it. That’s the end of the show. There are no bows. I don’t believe in bows, just the fade out. That’s what a dancer’s life is.

I have to wonder if anyone watching this musical nowadays “gets it” or if it is just another musical to see while in New York.

Pop Culture Confessions, Part Three: I Love Yacht Rock!

“No wise man has the power to reason away…”

I can to a stunning realization on the subway the other day. You may want to sit down for this one. If my life was a musical, it would be full of songs composed and sung by Michael McDonald. This may be the first sign that my long work hours have driven me to madness, but hear me out before you call a psych evaluation. McDonald’s baritone voice, smooth and garbled at the same time, is the perfect voice to sing my daily life’s confusion. The thought of McDonald singing “yeah, why doesn’t this … shitttt work, ohhhh,” set to the tune of “Ya Mo Be There”, seems to fit.

Earlier this week, I came across the net series called Yacht Rock and I thought, “finally, these people get it.” Yacht rock is defined as “the highly polished brand of soft rock that emanated from Southern California during the late 1970s and early 1980s. In part, the term relates to the stereotype of the yuppie yacht owner, enjoying champagne and smooth music while out for a sail. Significant ‘yacht rockers’ include Michael McDonald, Kenny Loggins, Christopher Cross, and Toto.” In other words, half my music collection. Is it wrong to admit that my addiction to yacht rock, particularly when life has me a little down, can only be measured by the gram and I shoot it up like a junky with a bad habit.

I know what you are thinking. You mean you love this stuff “ironically”, right? You have to see that this is pure cheese. My answer to that query, my friend, is to get right up in your face and say, “dude, if you don’t think Sweet Freedom is one of the best songs of the 80s, we are about to have a very serious disagreement. “Share those feelings dancin in your eyes.” Why that didn’t become a catchphrase, I’ll ever know.

But back to the show Yacht Rock, a brilliant slice of comedy for anyone who owns a James Ingram album or five. The first episode of the series featured a fictionalized account of how McDonald and fellow rocker Kenny Loggins co-penned “What a Fool Believes”. The latest episode, which was unleashed on the web a few days ago, features the making of Kenny Loggins’s “Footloose”.

Footloose