The wife and I went shopping a couple of weekends ago to the tune of holiday music even though it was a week until Thanksgiving. Most of the songs were the popular Christmas numbers that I’m not a big fan of, but they come hand-in-hand with the season. Then it happened. I was looking at merchandise and half-listening to Christmas music when “My Favorite Things” came on the air. It wasn’t even Julie Andrews’ voice! “That’s no Christmas song,” I thought, but I dismissed it. However, at different store, I heard a different version of “My Favorite Things” mixed in with the holiday tunes. It was another version that also wasn’t Julie Andrews.

What’s going on here? Are we so hard-up for Christmas music that we have to resort to popular show tunes to make up the gap? On the contrary, there are more holiday songs than can be listened to each year (especially given the low standard of songs being played in public these days). I don’t think it’s another symptom of trying to avoid religion during a religious holiday. We have scads of winter-themed songs that ignore all faiths. Why are we making room for The Sound of Music?

No, do not misunderstand me; I think “My Favorite Things” and The Sound of Music are both perfectly fine. I’m not a big fan, but neither do I hate them. It’s just that “My Favorite Things” has nothing to do with Christmas. I guess you could argue that “white copper kettles and warm woolen mittens” or “snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes” are wintery things. However, there are plenty of other lyrics that suggest other seasons. “Raindrops on roses?” That’s spring. We also have “Cream-colored ponies and crisp apple streudels.” One could eat apple streudel during Christmas, but it’s not inherently holiday-related; ponies are for all seasons. Combine all of that with the fact that Maria sings the number during a thunderstorm, and there’s no reason why we should make this a Christmas song.

So why are we making this musical error? I think it comes from conflating Christmas with The Sound of Music. As I recall, ABC airs the musical on Christmas Day quite often. Perhaps we’ve grown so used to hearing that song on Christmas that they have become linked. If this is the reason, why aren’t “Climb Every Mountain” and “So Long, Farewell” Christmas songs?

Clearly there is no logical reason to connect “My Favorite Things” with Christmas, and those who play holiday music over the airwaves and/or in stores should delete it from their playlists. They won’t, of course, and I guess it could be worse; at least they aren’t playing anything from Annie. But if we must pretend that ”My Favorite Things” is a Christmas carol, may I make one suggestion? Let’s play only the Julie Andrews version.

The wife and I changed things up a bit last weekend and actually went to the cinema! That is unbelievable already, but we went even further and saw a movie that had just come out, viz. Where the Wild Things Are. J loves the book by Maurice Sendak (I like it, too), and Paste had it as their cover story for last month’s issue. In other words, we were interested. I was more than a little skeptical of a feature-length movie made from a children’s book consisting of only a few sentences; however, the film is quite enjoyable and its emotional power comes from psychology.

There were several things that I was leery of going into the movie. First, I hoped that the producers and director wouldn’t stray too far from the original book, and they did not. The only departure that bothered me was that instead of going upstairs to bed and imagining the forest growing up around him and then getting on the boat to the island, Max runs away from home and gets on his imaginary bark. I loved the idea of creating a new world in a familiar place. Still, this is a small complaint. Of course there are other departures such as the wild things having names and pretty much everything that happens on the island, but I knew there would need to be much added content. I think the movie captures the spirit of the book fairly well.

Another concern I had going in was that the monsters would disappoint me. Would they look right? Would they be silly? Annoying? What would they sound like? In this facet, the film did not disappoint at all; I loved the wild things as they are rendered. They have adult human voices and do not sound goofy, which is important. Max’s imaginary world is real to him. The look of the monsters is incredible–they look just like the book. I was able to sympathize with them and care about them, but they remain scary and dangerous too.

My largest worry was that once Max got on the island, the action would be boring and/or absurd. It isn’t (mostly). The plot on the island with Max and the wild things is quite good–powerful at times. Max meets these enormous creatures who scare him. He eventually befriends them and is crowned their king via some fast-talking. He quickly realizes that his job as king is to make all of the wild things happy; they have feuds and rivalries among them. Max promises peace and happiness, and things go along swimmingly for a while. But soon he finds out that he cannot please them all; he is a just a kid.

Max’s relationship with the wild things is the most interesting aspect of the movie because one can see a part of Max in each monster. The wild things are projections of different parts of Max’s psyche. KW resembles Max’s sister who has friends besides Max but still loves him. Alexander is the smallest monster, and the others never listen to what he says, just as Max feels he is ignored in real life. Interestingly, Max, too, ignores Alexander for most of the film. Douglas is the more rational side of Max–the Horatio to Carol’s Hamlet. Carol, Max’s best friend (and my favorite monster from the book), is almost a second Max; he feels deeply and loves his friends, but when he loses control of his emotions, he is out of control and dangerous. The other monsters seem like parents or naysayers at times.

The emotional power of the movie comes from watching Max try to make these monsters–these pieces of himself–get along. He loves them all (excepting the Bull, maybe), and it hurts him that he is powerless to heal the rifts among the monsters. Wild Things forces the viewer to see things through the eyes of a child. Max wants so badly to avoid the things that hurt him and others, but he is incapable of control. It reminded me strongly of the times when I was upset as a child and wanted to make things “right”–right as I saw it, of course; but that is not life. We long for understanding and acceptance, yet when we find it we don’t know how to sustain that joy. We hurt each other. In that way, Max’s struggle in this movie and in the book is everyone’s struggle.

Fortunately, the story doesn’t end there. As in the book, Max realizes this pretend world he’s created is too much for him to govern; he sails home where his mother is waiting for him with a warm dinner. He finds peace in his mother’s love. No, he cannot control himself or life, but at least he knows someone loves him.

The movie is well made and enjoyable to watch. I would not take my children to it were I a parent. There are parts that would be scary for kids, and the psychology of the movie is its strength; I do not know if kids would understand it. Then again, children love the book, which features so many similar themes. Maybe I’m underestimating what a child is capable of understanding. In any case, it is a movie worth seeing, though I don’t think watching at home on DVD would subtract too much from the experience. ★★★★ (of five)

Due to the abundant generosity of my parents, I have in my possession an iTunes gift card with a fair amount of money on it that I got for my birthday. ITunes gift cards are wonderful things. They say, “You’ve been wanting that music for a while now; go buy it!” And buy, I will. I already know some albums and songs I’m going to buy (Neko Case’s Middle Cyclone comes to mind), but I could use some ideas, too.

That’s where you come in, dear reader. What are some of your favorite albums, artists, and/or songs? Tell me about the music you don’t want to live without, and, if you know me, the music I probably don’t have. What are those desert island albums for you? I will check out your suggestions as I see fit, and–who knows?–maybe I’ll add some of your favorite tunes to my humble collection. Also, argue persuasively: tell me why you love this music, what makes it great, and anything else you’d like to say. Of course, if you’d rather not, you may ignore this prompt altogether.

If all of the above sounds too much like an assignment (I think it probably does), please excuse me. I’m still getting accustomed to being a professor. However, I value your input, and I know my musical knowledge is somewhat limited.

Let the music play!

The other day Netflix sent us Rachel Getting Married*, which J and I wanted to see since it came out. I know what you’re thinking: I wished to see this movie only because my girl Anne Hathaway got an Oscar nomination for her role in it. Well, you’re partially right, but I also watched it because I thought it would be good. I was right. Rachel is a most affecting movie, and its emotional power derives mostly from the acting.

The story follows Kym (Hathaway) who gets out of drug rehab for a weekend to attend the wedding of her sister Rachel (Rosemarie DeWitt). As we all know, weddings are an extremely emotional time, and Kym’s addition to the mix revivifies strong emotions that have been latent for years. Slowly, the film reveals to the audience what happened with Kym (I won’t tell you) and the damage it caused in the family. There is a lot of hashing out to do, and the dialogue scenes among the family members are poignant and forceful.

For me, DeWitt and Hathaway drive this movie. Their respective performances are exceptional and always affecting. In these sisters, unendurable pain and unconditional love co-exist, and each emotion unceasingly struggles to gain supremacy. Rachel is fed up with all the extra attention Kym receives due to her addiction, and for once she would like the focus to be on her—it’s her wedding after all. Kym has to deal with the knowledge that everyone knows who she is and what she’s done and no one truly understands what she’s been through. Bill Irwin and Debra Winger also turn in good performances as the girls’ parents. There is one particular scene towards the end with Kym and her mom that is heart-rending.

As excellent as the acting and story are, the movie doesn’t attain greatness due to a few minor drawbacks. The movie is shot using mostly hand-held cameras, which doesn’t affect the quality of the action but does make for a Blair Witch-y feel from time to time. The film’s pacing is its greatest fault. The movie drags in several spots. I watched the Behind the Scenes featurette, so I understand that Director Jonathan Demme is going for authenticity; in every wedding weekend, there are moments that are awkward and interminable. However, Demme goes too far in this pursuit, and the rehearsal dinner and reception sequences have much that could have been cut.

That said, Rachel Getting Married is a stirring and powerful film. There is a lot of darkness here to be sure, but if that worries you, there are also spots of hope and brightness. The movie is not a tragedy. I certainly learned a lot about the long-lasting effects addiction can have on both addicts and their loved-ones; that alone makes it worthwhile. Add the excellent performances of DeWitt and Hathway (she definitely deserved that nomination), and you have a meritorious movie. 4 stars (of 5).

*The movie is rated R for sexuality and language. The sex in this piece consists of a five-second glimpse into a shadowy room; I’ve seen more illicit scenes on ABC Family. The language, however, is pervasive.

There is something unique about finding a band that you love. It feels as if you stumbled upon a new friend who knows you already and has a lot to say. So it was with me and The Weepies. I first heard their music on Paste Magazine’s music sampler #40 that featured “Hideaway,” the title song of their most recent release. At first it didn’t grab my attention, but repeated listenings revealed an unusual ability to write quality–yea, even poetic–lyrics. J looked into them via the interwebenet, and we soon fell in love.

The Weepies’ music is simple yet elaborate in its arrangement. Deb Talan and Steve Tannen both sing, switching lead vocals and frequently harmonizing with each other. Their layered, guitar-based sound is simple but ethereal, and their pieces are always well-made. The instrumentation is lovely but never overpowering. It is music that coheres together perfectly; every part feels inherently valuable to the whole.

The Weepies are extraordinary because I can listen to them any time. Most bands have a sound that lends itself to certain situations: DMB when I’m happy, Pearl Jam when I’m looking for energy, Counting Crows on rainy days, Sarah McLachlan when I want some sweetness, Simon & Garfunkel for poetry, Dispatch on laid-back days, classical for background music, etc. The Weepies have somehow managed to make music that fits any situation. It’s quiet enough that I can play it in the background or when I want tranquility, it’s cheerful enough to quench a happiness thirst (their first album is titled Happiness), they have enough gloomy songs to pacify me when I’m irked, and they have all the depth anyone could ask for when I really want music to delve into.

Their lyrics are extraordinary and explore a variety of themes. Some of their songs are about love and simplicity. Consider “Take It From Me”: “Funny how it’s hard to take love with no strings / But come on, take it /Take it from me (we have a good life).” Or “Simple Life”:

I dreamed you first
But not so real
And every day since I’ve found you
Such moments we steal
Like little thieves, we rub our hands
We hold our hearts between them

“Orbiting” takes up the feeling of loss:

Now you’re out of my range
And it’s kind of strange
How we change orbit in our lives
You were kind of a moon
Outside of my room
I could just feel you nearby
Now I feel you gone

The ongoing struggle of life is addressed in “How You Survived the War”:

Is that the way you want it?
You get back to the wall
And put your hands up
It’s a hold-up
You give up
Like every time before
That is how you survived the war

I could quote several other worthy songs: “Antarctica,” “Slow Pony Home,” “Can’t Go Back Now,” “Stars,” “Painting by Chagall,” and, my favorite, “Jolene,” which is so excellent I couldn’t excerpt it. Few are the musicians who craft words as well as these two.

The Weepies live in a world I relate to. There is tragedy and loss but also love and beauty. The small things matter, and power is not equivalent to volume or force. Writing this post has made me want to listen to them all over again. This is music that I had all but given up on finding. It’s excellent per se, yet it somehow transcends notes and words. Having The Weepies’ music in my life is a small but profound joy.

One of my favorite musicians and easily one of the best Christian songwriters has just come out with his second free online album, Letters to the Editor, Vol. II. I’m listening to it as I type this, and it’s great. You’d be silly not to acquire this gem. Download it here. Like the last Letters, this album was inspired from emails Osenga received from his fans.

Great stuff, Andy. Keep it up!

Sure, I heard all about the movie Atonement when it came out with all the great critical reviews and shots of Keira Knightly gazing longingly into the camera. Then it was up for best picture. But here at AQ, we wait until it comes to our door via Netflix, so J & I just watched it the other night.

I expected this movie to be one of those “epic love/war stories” that are always up for best picture, and it kind of was. I’m talking about the movies where our heroes fall in love and then the guy has to go to war (any war is fine) and maybe he dies and maybe she dies or they both die–outside chance that they manage to meet again. Atonement does that in part, but the most interesting character is neither of the protagonists pictured left: it’s Cecilia’s little sister Briony. She drives the plot in a way that I absolutely will not reveal. The film is an interesting spin on a movie cliché.

For me, the movie has three parts (I’m always making things have three parts…hmm): Pt. 1: exposition and big moment; Pt. 2: fallout of the big moment and war; Pt. 3: unexpected ending. The best parts were one and three. The beginning is the longest section and the most beautiful as well. J & I foresaw most of the plot events, but they are still engaging. The cinematography is quite lovely–almost too lovely. There are a couple of shots of Cecilia smoking and then Robbie smoking. Then back to Cecilia. I thought, “Ok, we get it. You can shoot beautifully and these people are attractive, especially while smoking.” But overall it is great.

Section two is the second longest and sloppiest. Once Robbie goes overseas, the plot disappears. There are “significant moments,” but overall J & I kept wondering, “What’s going on?” This section doesn’t present you with confusing images or anything, but it drops everything to show you whatever the director feels like showing you. The worst part is when Robbie and two other guys find Dunkirk beach and wander around for ten minutes. Nothing happens. It’s the typical “You couldn’t imagine what war was like until this moment, but now I’m showing you” scene that permeates war movies. It drags.

Thankfully, the third part comes. It’s quick and powerful. The denouement is both unexpected and emotionally charged. In this part you finally, fully see why the movie has its title and what the atonement costs.

It isn’t amazing, but it’s definitely worth watching. It’s rated “R” (like pirate movies) for sexual content and graphic war images, but neither are as bad as I expected. There’s no nudity, and nobody gets their head blown off in a bomb. There is no shortage of adult content, but if violence or nudity is keeping you from watching this one, you shouldn’t worry too much about it.

J loves it; I like it: 8/10, B+. I haven’t read any Ian McEwan (the guy who wrote the novel upon which the film is based), but I think that this story would be a better novel than movie. Still, it’s a watchable film.

Every now and again I listen to an album I just purchased and think, “This is something special.” The Counting Crows’ latest release Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings is one such disc. It is the Crows’ most complete album since August and Everything After and their best since Recovering the Satellites. It has been almost five years since the band’s last CD, and I must say it was worth the wait.

Before I get into analysis, I should say that I purchased Saturday Nights on iTunes. Normally, I’m leery of buying albums without the actual disc, but the iTunes version comes with two extra songs and a track-by-track, twenty minute interview with Adam Duritz, which is fascinating. If my thoughts on the album seem especially profound, it’s because of Duritz’s comments; if not, then that’s nothing new. If you haven’t yet bought the album and have iTunes, do yourself a favor: pay the extra $2.00 and get an even better CD.

The album title derives from how the disc is arranged. The first half of the disc (tracks 1-6) is the Saturday nights section, and tracks 7-13 are Sunday mornings. “Come Around” is the conclusion of the disc. Saturday and Sunday are symbolic here. Saturday night is all about dissipation, self-destruction, and throwing oneself out into the void of life. It’s pleasure-seeking, reckless, and dangerous. Sunday morning is the proverbial “morning after,” when one wakes up to confront life and reckon with all that happened previously. Regardless of how far one has delved into the exciting and dark void that life offers, the combination of these days is something human–something we’ve all experienced in one way or another.

Perhaps most exciting for me was listening to the first half of the album and hearing the ripping electric guitar and driving beat. This kind of rock ‘n roll is something we’ve known the Crows are capable of (cf. “Angels of the Silences”), but they’ve kept it under their hat for the most part until now. And the sound melds perfectly with the sense (Alexander Pope would be proud*). “!492″ is the song about doing something you want and watching it blow up in ways you didn’t expect, hence the Columbus allusion. “Hanging Tree” is the fallout of “Mr. Jones”–it is Duritz’s mixed reaction to fame. We remember hearing, “When everybody loves you / that’s just about as happy as you can be,” but now that Duritz and his band have been so famous for so long, “This dizzy life is just a hanging tree.” I love the beginning to that one.

The self-destructive theme continues. “I don’t believe in Sundays /I don’t believe in anything at all” crops up in the fourth song. “Insignificant” again takes up the problem of fame: “I don’t want to feel so different / But I don’t want to be insignificant.” The mention of Icarus in this track is important also; Duritz says Icarus is behind the album throughout. To finish the first half, we come to “Cowboys” with its jangling guitars and violent imagery. Duritz says he imaginatively takes his self-destructive impulse too far on this track, taking on the persona of a mass-murderer. This is the peak of chaos for the album, and since it can get no worse, the album enters Sunday morning.

You can hear the change immediately in “Washington Square.” The tone is self-reflective and pensive. The excitement has faded into emptiness, and the singer is wandering through cities and memories. “On Almost Any Given Sunday Morning” is about waking up next to a stranger: “Take a message to your head / Just stay beside her in the bed /You were so stupid / To believe in things you couldn’t see.” The supernatural theme continues into “When I Dream of Michelangelo,” one of my favorites. I should have been able to get the Sistine Chapel implication without listening to the interview, but I’m not sure I would’ve:

And I dream of Michelangelo when I'm lying in my bed
I see God upon the ceiling, I see angels overhead
And he seems so close as he reaches out his hand
But we are never quite as close as we are led to understand

Here is the artist trying to figure out the link between the divine and the earthly and inevitably coming up short.

I could go on forever, I suppose, but I’ll try to move quicker. “You Can’t Count on Me” is “the meanest song I’ve written about myself,” Duritz says. He certainly paints no flattering portrait of himself here. “Le Ballet d’Or” (“The Golden Ballet”), has a fantastic guitar part in the verses that I simply adore. And the imagery is nigh-on poetic:

We've wasted time running scared
Now Autumn's fire is ashes on the breeze
And it spins away like dust on pearls
As winter comes to usher in the evening

Though the invocation is to come and dance, this doesn’t seem like the same kind of reckless dance we’d expect on Saturday night; it is the need to keep going. “On a Tuesday in Amsterdam…” is a lovely, delicate song about loss. Just FYI, Duritz wrote it in Amsterdam on a winter afternoon, he says. You can hear it.

So the songs flow from dispersion and energy to contemplation and emptiness. “Come Around” is the conclusion of the album because it is Counting Crows’ message to their fans. “We don’t have life figured out, but we’ll keep going,” they seem to say.

The lyrics, musicality, instrumentation, and vocal urgency are truly remarkable. This is an intricately arranged album. And you don’t have to over-think it like I did to enjoy it. You get caught up in the emotions and the sounds. This is the best new album I’ve heard in quite some time. Bravo.

*From An Essay on Criticism: ” The Sound must seem an Eccho to the Sense.”

Last Christmas, my most excellent cousin Tim purchased a subscription to Paste magazine for me, and it’s been great. Paste is pretty dang cool. Basically, it’s a magazine about the arts (especially music), and it covers all the artists that you probably haven’t heard of. Well, I hadn’t heard of them anyway. It has movie, book and video game reviews, which I always enjoy reading, and it features regular and free-lance contributors covering various topics.

But the best part is the sampler. Every issue comes with a 20-track CD of artists covered in the most recent issue. Thus, as I discovered with my second issue, one can listen to the sampler disc to get acquainted with the musicians and then read what Paste has to say about them and their most recent release. This eliminates the worst aspect of reviews: one doesn’t know how much to value the writer’s opinion until one has sampled the music (or book, movie, etc.) for squiself. It’s useful to hear one song off a CD and then read the review.

The sampler also functions to introduce the subscriber to new music. I hate the radio. Thus, I rarely hear new songs and/or new artists. With the CD sampler, I’m able to explore new musical territory sans abrasive commercials and idiotic DJ’s. If I dislike a song, I needn’t hear it again. Conversely, the upside is huge. If I hear a tune I enjoy, I already have that one for keeps and I can research the artist to see if the rest of squi’s music is as worthwhile. I already have Paste to thank for J’s and my love for The Weepies.

But all of this “hipness” has me wondering: is Paste too cool for me? I’m the curmudgeon who gripes about the radio and prefers listening to the wonderful, familiar CDs I’ve had for years. I’m the guy who complains that popular music sucks now and reminisces about the glory days of music (early/mid-nineties for me) when listening to the radio was palatable. Now I get free sampler CDs to test the waters of new music, and I’m able to easily reject crappy ditties and embrace hitherto undiscovered music.

To make matters worse, the music covered in Paste is mostly the underground, not over-hyped kind. Paste is an end-around play for artists whom commercial radio discards. It’s odd to hear cool music of which most people probably never have heard. Am I becoming…(gasp)…cool?

Nah. But Paste is well worth checking out for yourself. Nice present, coz.

Along with completing another demanding semester, I’ve recently watched the last episode of Seinfeld season 9, which means I’ve watched every Seinfeld episode. No, it’s not exactly a triumph nor even an accomplishment, but (oddly) it is a source of pride for me. I have collected and watched the Seinfeld seasons over four years, and it’s fun that I can now say I have seen them all.

At various points throughout the process, I’ve thought of posting on my favorite seasons or episodes, but I just haven’t been able to. Why? There are all so good! How could I choose between “The Pick,” “The Contest,” or “The Serenity Now?” The truth is that every season has its amazing episodes; the only set of DVDs I could do without is volume one because Jerry and Larry David are still figuring out what the show will be. Nearly every episode has a laugh-out-loud moment; most have many.

As for the final episode, I expected to enjoy it more than the first time I watched it. The finale was actually the very first Seinfeld I ever watched, so naturally I didn’t get the jokes. The parade of characters from prior years eagerly appearing to testify against Jerry, Elaine, George and Kramer was quite funny.

That said, I still feel that there is something off about the finale. In the roundtable conversation with the four main actors and Larry David that’s on the DVD, they agree the last episode is out of character for the show because it is a “big” show; Seinfeld is at its best when it’s about the minutia. For all those who dislike Seinfeld because its characters are mean, the finale gives you justice. They are bad people. But darned if it’s not disappointing that our protagonists end up in jail. I’d like to think that they’re still living their strange, comical lives in New York City.

The best part about owning all of Seinfeld is that I can watch any episode whenever I feel like it. Indeed, dear reader, Seinfeld is the best, most well-written, and hilarious situation comedy ever made. It may always be.