One of the best French things to take from my trip, I actually picked up in a fab flat in Chelsea. Ever on the pulse of things, Hugh & Fred hooked me up with this little gem burning up the French art landscape. Christine and The Queens are giving us infectious French pop with a little early-stage Michael Jackson style in a mix of performance, art videos, drawings and photography. The video for Christine or Tilted, the English version, is one of the coolest videos I've seen in ages. Oh! Would that I could pull of Christine's (real name Héloïse)tomboy look! Good god, I love a loafer! Perhaps I should dig mine out of whatever abyss they've made their way to. Or, perhaps instead, I shall just practice her dance moves and jam out in my new prius with a seven year old. It's kid-approved! More from my trip that isn't music soon. I promise. In the meantime, check out more of Christine & The Queens here.
Rare thunderstorms in LA are ushering me to Britain today. My itinerary-- a year in the making-- has me feeling a bit shot out of a cannon, but is entirely my own doing. I haven't been back to Scotland since the day I got on the bus in that last wind down to the end. I had that taste of London on the way back from Africa, and I'll admit I still associate the place with the only thing in my life I've ever felt like I failed at. I cried on the circle in. I have felt and still feel a rough letting go of that place and the life I saw for myself there. It becomes more complicated the more entrenched I get in my LA life; the more I love it. As I cross over anniversaries and milestones, unremarked upon, the more I am having to redefine myself against the hardline definitions I had of myself earlier in my life. I can say to myself now--- you've been away from New York as long as you were ever there. Why do you still consider yourself a New Yorker? You don't really miss it, you only miss Europe. But LA... I still feel torn about my intent. My intent to live as one or many of the incarnations of myself. I'm scared of falling out of my life here by being gone so long. I'm scared of missing an opportunity that I've painstakingly built a foundation for here. I'm scared it's still not enough time to be in any of the places I'm going to settle into the rhythm. Scared it's not enough time to catch back that magic of my life there. I'm scared that the way I was there will be at odds with the way I am now and I won't be able to reconcile them. I'm scared my practice will fall off and I won't chant because of time, and mindset, and my friends' hard disbelief in Buddhism. But CHVRCHES has got my back. Giving us all a new song to sing me to Scotland. And a new album this September 25 -- Every Open Eye. And I'm going to give it my best go to report to whatever readers are left here. I can't guarantee I'll be able to. I can't guarantee I'll have anything or anything worthwhile to say. But if I do, I'll be here. Hope to see you. Onward. To the East and to the North. To London, Edinburgh, Bamff, Skye, Uist, Geneva, Provence, Lugano and everywhere in between, to Dublin, to Clare and back again.
Morgan Kibby makes me want to dye my hair dark and stop wearing a bra. Let my curves out or down, whichever way they want to go. Be freckled. Be soft. Be diaphanous. Keep my sailor's tongue. Live Morgan Kibby (or White Sea, as the show is actually billed) was one of the most genuinely surprising, thrilling evenings of music a jaded artist (or anyone else for that matter) could have. She was the anchor in an evening I call the best accidental free concert ever. You see, the lovely Miss Vinessa Shaw and I are big fans of Moses Sumney (more on that later). He was having a month-long residency of free concerts and Vinny and I had been trying to organize a time to go. Then, after 24 hours of driving down the coast of California with the mega-duo of Brian Kearney and Gretchen Schrafft (more on Big Sur and an Irishman's first dip in the Pacific soon) I felt like 1. I need to MOVE-- sway in a room with strangers and have nothing to do with my clutch or my car-- even with wide open spaces, with the idea of the Ocean. (Whoops! White Sea!) and 2. I'd love something free to do with my fellow poor-artist friends. Thus, we all ended up at the "Moses Sumney Concert," where White Sea was his guest. And it was the best concert I've ever been to. I'm not really sure I've ever seen a more exhilarating live performer than Morgan Kibby. It has all the drama and height of a Florence + The Machine Show, but with way more prowess, vocal precision and scale emanating from a much smaller operation. But then, this isn't Morgan Kibby's first rodeo. She formerly front LA Band, The Romanovs (good name, ya'll!) IMO is the element that makes M83 the shit. She fucking wrote Midnight City. If I wrote that song, I'd retire. But nope! That's not really an option for Morgan because of that set of pipes. You guys, in the room, that night, we all just looked at each other in awe. I am open to the awe of amazing singers. I am so often so humbled by the voices I get to hear and write for in my line of work. But I am spoiled by those voices and thus rarely floored by someone's ability. I've been waiting for White Sea's first full album, In Cold Blood since that night. I wish I could tell you it lives up to the live concert, but it doesn't and in fact, it can't. That's not even the point. But it is wonderful, it is lyrically bold, it is my jam, and you should get it. In closing, Morgan Kibby, be my friend. If you get a call from Kade's cell phone, it's just me and I've stolen his phone so I can talk to you. Don't freak out. White Sea In Cold Blood New album out now via Crush Music/SONGS on iTunes for $7.99 or listen to it on Spotify
Not my favorite song on the album, but the video is gorge.
Of all the new musicals I've been eagerly awaiting this past year, London-premiering "The Light Princess" is the one I'm kicking myself I'll miss. With music by Tori Amos and based on Scottish Fairytale by George MacDonald, it basically has the potential to be perfect.
As produced by the National Theatre, I'm not sure it is though.
There are already some interesting similarities between the storyline and The Little Mermaid-- and I don't just mean a red-headed heroine. But one thing I'm sure all theatre-goers can agree on is that no show should share production design with The Little Mermaid. Especially not this one. It, like TLM, seems to vacillate between up-scale ethereal, and plastic toy cartoon. For the record, I think the first is the way to go. See above. And the lowest photo below.
It's interesting because Tori's aesthetic is pretty much perfect. But then again, knowing personally how little control most musical theatre writers have over design elements, I suppose it's not surprising she'd lose at least a few creative battles.
Anyone have a bootleg? I'd kill to hear some of this.
With the return of Downton Abbey to British television this past Sunday, my deep longing for the United Kingdom has kicked in with full, panging force. All the more reason to pseudo-shop the new collections from House of Hackney. Hackney is one of the (best) boroughs in London, and my home for the time I lived there. In addition to being an up and coming, largely tube-free region of Northeast London, it's also the name sake of husband and wife team Frieda Gormley & Javvy M. Royle's (SO British.) two year old brand. With a flagship store in Shoreditch (jusssst on the border of Hackney) and placements in Urban Outfitters, etc etc, they've accomplished a lot for such a young brand. I was immediately drawn to the Dalston Rose line, Dalston being my primary hood. It's super girly, but I could see little flourishes of it even in very contemporary homes. Personally, I'd make tea every afternoon in that little mug there. But I also think the Hackney Empire collection has the most punch.
In many ways, their home goods sensibility and aesthetic reminds me of Timorous Beasties. They seem to thrive on putting a modern and/or cheeky twist on what it quintessentially English or Scottish. The word they always throw around about both brands is "subversive." But in addition to home fabrics, etc, House of Hackney also does clothing-- something I just dream that TB will expand into one of these days. (Please, please, pretty please.) H of H describes themselves as Colefax & Fowler on acid... okay! While no one will ever replace TB in my heart, you know I can get behind a "more is more attitude."
Do you like alliteration as much as I do? Let's hope so because here's London's Capital Children's Choir covering Crystal Castles. I think I prefer this version of "Untrust Us" to the original. 120 Children singing. Oof. This is some ethereal shit, people.
A year ago today, I cashed in my permanent resident alien card to the UK and flew back to the United States. I had no idea what I would do next. Heathrow seemed like home at that point and I remember fighting with my grandmother via email even as I stood in line to check my bag and say goodbye to London. I still hate that I had to leave the UK. But I'm happy I live in Los Angeles even more than I ever I thought I could. I recently rediscovered some thoughts I wrote in a journal around the time I left. I'd like to share them with you, but I'll wait until tomorrow since today is Friday and it's time for Friday links. - I want this. I'm starting to feel sad. - Get it, George Clooney. Eff the hedgefunds. - I'll always have a soft spot for my first job out of college. The End of Saks Fifth Ave. - I feel like learning more languages. I miss Europe. - This bag is hot. - These pictures of my cousin, Tennessee Williams, are lovely. - My next read is David Rakoff's final piece: a novel in iambic pentameter. - Haim. The Wire.
Greetings from Santa Monica! I'm writing to you from 12 stories in the air overlooking the Coast to the North and Santa Monica pier in the distance. Despite the June gloom, it feels more like summer here. Perhaps because I've got some company. Reconnecting with one of my favorite childhood friends after 20 years has been pretty amazing. We frequently revert to childlike glee and laugh like hyenas about pretty much nothing. We meet up at her house many days and swim laps in her Olympic sized pool. Now that I'm back into swimming laps like when I was a teenager and dancing around like a spazzy kid, the quest for summer songs becomes even more important. I used to keep myself busy while swimming the mile in high school by singing songs in my head under water. Now, they have underwater listeners to help with that. But I've still been jamming out to this song in my head while I swim. London-based Bastille has blown up over in Europe, but I'm hoping this energetic business gets a fair shake here too. It's a pretty good kickstart to the week. Enjoy! Hope you have a great Monday!
Ithink about place and belonging a lot. I often feel out of place. Or caught, maybe is a better word, between two (or more!) places. Not part of this, not wholly a part of that. And I suppose time and timing is another big component of the idea of "place" especially as it pertains to belonging. Perhaps my London near-miss of a life was all to do with timing. I wonder what it would be like if I went back now, or a year from now. And while I think living in London in 1927 might be a bit out of the realm of possibility, it's nice to daydream about-- especially if this footage of the Big Smoke from British film pioneer Claude Friese-Greene is any indication. The captions are almost as lovely as the footage. And in case you love the song as much as I do, it's "Parasol" by British indie-rock collective, Jonquil.
Some pretty rad options have my summer plans a bit up in air. It's nice to know whatever happens is going to be a fun and new experience for me. One of those things may have me out of town fro while. Which would be hilarious, considering all the trouble I went to to finally get CHVRCHES tickets (I love a challenge!) and the concert would be while I'm out of town.
But assuming I'm in LA, on May 31, I'll get to also see this London group, Still Corners, as an opener. I heard buzz about them last year while living in London and I'm glad I finally have an excuse to check out Tessa Chambers and Greg Hughes promote their new album, Strange Pleasures.
Self-deprecating British rom-coms! Though I'm not sure how I feel about Rose Byrne as a Brit.... I mean, I know she's Australian, but still... it doesn't sit well... other than that, I can't wait to see this with my hetero life mate, McC. It came out in February in the UK and I don't see much in the way of info about when we sad Americans (who just can't have nice things) will also get to have it. Don't make we who miss Britain wait, please.
Daniel Clay's Broken was one of my favorite books that I read while I was in the UK. It was such a well-drawn microcosm. If a little bleak... And a child at the center of the action like the one here-- Skunk-- is always a plus as far as I'm concerned. Also, you'd be hard pressed to find better inspiration than To Kill A Mockingbird. So then: a British To Kill a Mockingbird set in North London. Score. Okay, not that Broken comes anywhere near To Kill a Mockingbird. But I always thought it'd fare well as a movie. Which is why I'm so delighted to see it realized in film with so many great people behind and out in front of it. (Including theatre director Rufus Norris and delicious Cillian Murphy.) Will the litany of bad occurrences end up over the top (as they were there for a while in the book)? Will the performances make us forget how nicely written the book is at the level of the sentence? Or will we miss that? Or will the movie balance this all out? I'm willing to find out. Reviews have been mixed so far. But praise is unilateral for young Eloise Laurence as Skunk. Which is great because the world needs more child actresses to give Quevenzhane Wallis a run for her money and Abigail Breslin and the Fanning sisters have basically aged out.
Hi. I'm back. Happy Presidents' Day. I'll be more fully back later this week, but in the meantime, in the spirit of today, I wanted to post my favorite quote from Abraham Lincoln. It was always my favorite, but it took on a whole extra layer of emotion and meaning when it was uttered by Ben Whishaw, as Freddie Lyon, one of my all-time favorite television characters, in the Season 2 (and now what appears to be the series as a whole) finale of what might be my favorite television show of all time, The Hour. That episode stays with me still. If you haven't seen The Hour, please find a way to do so. And Lincoln, good on ya. Quite the premonition there, Uncle Abe.
“I see in the near future a crisis approaching that unnerves me and causes me to tremble for the safety of my country. . . . corporations have been enthroned and an era of corruption in high places will follow, and the money power of the country will endeavor to prolong its reign by working upon the prejudices of the people until all wealth is aggregated in a few hands and the Republic is destroyed.”—U.S. President Abraham Lincoln, Nov. 21, 1864 (letter to Col. William F. Elkins)
This is the scene that immediately follows the Lincoln quote and ends the series. DON'T watch it until you've seen the whole thing. But please please watch this show.
As many of you know, I do all the original content on the voice over industry for my company, Resnick Interactive, on our website. I don't normally post them here, but this one has a lot of overlap between what I'm working on now, and my eternal love of the United Kingdom. So here is the history of London's iconic 'Mind The Gap.'
While New Yorkers may have to put up with cacophonous and disjointed announcements on their subway systems– where the voice seems to be screaming at them– the British tube has long been understood to be a more civilized system. The tube was made famous thanks in part to its soothing, silver-voiced announcement to please Mind the Gap.
At its most basic level, it was a simple service announcement, reminding commuters to be aware of the space between the platform and the car. It’s gone on to become a symbol of not just the London Underground, but of London itself. Let’s not forget though, that this iconic phrase started as one more great voice over performance.
Increased traffic, added frequent stops, and adherence to schedules had made it impractical for drivers and station attendants to warn passengers when necessary at the curved platforms. The phrase was coined in 1968 and began airing in London Underground stations along the Central, Northern, and Bakerloo Lines in 1969. The Underground chose digital recording and as storage capacity was expensive, the phrase had to be short. Mind the Gap was the winner.
According to the Independent on Sunday, the sound engineer hired for the project, Peter Lodge, who owned Redan Recorders in Bayswater, working with a Scottish Telefunken engineer, cast and recorded an actor reading “mind the gap” and “stand clear of the doors please,” and called it a day. But it turned into a moment of voice over casting gone wrong when the actor eventually turned back up, insisting on royalties– per use–for the performance! And since “mind the gap” was played thousands of times a day, this was not a cost Transport for London was willing to pay and the phrases were re-recorded. Lodge himself read the phrases, initially just to line up the recording equipment for levels, and in the end, those were the ones they used.
While Lodge’s 1969 recording is still in use, many lines use other versions. Perhaps you remember that soothing feminine voice? That very commonly used track comes from Manchester/Cheshire based voice artist Emma Clarke. (Here’s a great extra read about her, too!) Others, on the Piccadilly line, are by Tim Bentinck, who is not only an Earl, (with a very long title) but who also plays David Archer in The Archers.
Despite its humble and unglamorous origins as a utilitarian safety warning, mind the gap has become its very own stock phrase cottage industry. It’s used in many other contexts having little or nothing to do with travel safety. You can find it in the names of songs, bands, films, production companies, and novels. At least four non-fiction titles use Mind the Gap as their primary title, but rather than the safety warning, these books are about generations, class divides, social science policy and even the origins of human universals.
Mind the Gap is featured in video games, such as Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3, Halo, and many more, plus in several animated series. It’s spawned an entire collection of merchandise from mugs to t-shirts, board games, and decorative tins.
Even when used ironically, as it often is today, nothing seems to be able to dislodge the phrase and its Cool Britannia from the public consciousness. Not only is it a staple of modern British personality, but goes down as one of the defining moments in voice over performance.
Enjoy today's Saturday song courtesy of London-based sister trio, The Staves. They remind me of The Wailin Jennysin more ways than one. (PS- I wish The Wailin Jennys still made albums. Their last new one was at the end of 2011-- though its anybody's guess which members were involved. I can't keep up anymore.) There's three of 'em. They're brunettes. They rock similar harmonies.
Like with Denim London, something just feels right about a London cast in shades of eerie blue. This series is actually a photo series from the 1930's that feels both otherworldly and also very immediate. I feel sucked into these haunting images, but also slightly scared someone might jump out from behind one of those columns and mugs me. These photos-- of a London that would soon disappear with the coming of the second world war -- were curated by two photographers John Morrison and Harold Burdekin into a book called London Night. It's out of print, but thanks to Vintage enthusiasts, The Library Time Machine, many of the photos have been made available for viewing online. All the photos in the series are prime examples the advances that were made in night photography at the time. The word that gets thrown around to describe them is "atmospheric" and I couldn't agree more. For more on London Night, check out here (sorry, its the Daily Mail.) and here. Thanks to the lovely Caroline for sending these my way!
British artist Ian Berry (though he lives in Sweden and calls himself Denimu [which he spells in katakana pulled from the Japanese take on denim] ) repurposes old jeans bound for charity shops to his artistic renderings of his old stomping grounds. (Also, incidentally, mine.) I loved seeing Camden Town and Hampstead in the most casual and constant of our daily companions-- denim. Some those graffiti shots, I know exactly where he's captured...
Today's meditation is on displaced natural elements. Dutch artist Berndnaut Smilde brings the outdoors indoors with these cloud art/experiments. Using an artist's imagination and a scientist's methods, Smilde created Nimbus clouds in abandoned gallery spaces and churches across Amsterdam. The result has a lot of people talking, and me having a daydream riff on the thought of.... For more, click here and here.
As a musical theatre lover of the first order, I have to
tell you, though I’m always in eager anticipation of the next show-to-movie
musical adaptation, I’ve never come out of one and not been a little
disappointed. Basically, when you’ve been that close up to musicals, it makes
it hard to enjoy-- seeing the places where their seams show. (And they all have seams.
Even the classics. Sometimes especially.)
The close up of film normally removes the immediacy of
singing. And something is lost. Tom Hooper was essentially always asking for a
world of dilemma by taking on one of the world’s most beloved musicals—a show
that has always walked a fine line between gut-wrenching and melodrama. (Or as
Steven might say, “High, high retro drama. Get ready for it.”) When I saw the revival on Broadway, though I much loved it, and met some of my best friends from that show, I felt it lost something in a smaller house. The barricade didn't intimidate me. It was just a set piece. I was simply too close to believe.
My personal
attachment to the show, coupled with my long standing reservations about it, made my viewing of Les Miserables full of anxiety. (“Almost NO Broadway
people. Only Aaron. All London people. On principle, this felt like another
snobby British moment. And would it prove to be too stunt cast-y? Remember that minute when Taylor Swift was almost going to be Eponine? Yeah.)
But Tom Hooper—who pointed out in conversation after the
film that this was technically ‘low budget’-- made several huge, game-changing,
instinct-driven decisions. First is the much-discussed live singing. I won’t go
into that in much detail, because everyone else has, but I will say this. We
should never make movie musicals any other way ever again. Ever.
Second-- and in some ways, I think this one might be more
important-- is a decision about perspective. The camera is always somewhere I
didn’t expect it to be. It holds longer than you’d think. It never cuts when you think it will. It zooms in and stays
there. This movie is unflinching.
Tom Hooper chose to shoot all the solos in extreme close up.
Anne Hathaway’s rendition of “I Dreamed a Dream,” plays without cuts, and in a single
take. You’ve probably heard whispers or grumblings of this, but it’s true:
throw everything you’ve ever thought about Anne Hathaway out the window. She’s
fine-to-good in everything leading up that song—one of the best in musical
theatre history. But, while no vocal power house, I assure you, you will not
care. It’s the rawest thing I’ve
ever seen filmed.
A close second is “Look Down.” The images of that opener are
still with me. And it’s where Hugh Jackman won me over completely which helped
as the movie went on. Because, for me, Jackman gets less compelling as the film
goes on, until his death scene. (Spoiler. Jean Valjean dies.) The biggest let down of the film for me was his "Bring Him Home."
But the Hugh Jackman of “Look Down” is arresting. All bloodshot
eyes and soaking wet and patchy hair with visible scalp scars. From that song into the convent section
where he experiences a redemption at the mercy of the priest and prays at the alter
to his own transformation, it's a juggernaut. And then, the scene is immediately transformed in the way that
shows Jean Valjean’s vision of the world and his place in it. When he leaves
the convent--a place we had previously a bleak, tight scope on-- to reveal the full
world, and Valjean casts his ripped up convict papers and scatters them to the
wind... that shot is…. Magnificent.
And here's the real and deeply satisfying revelation of choosing to shoot the film this way. Not only does it trust the actor to tell the story plainly, it trusts the song. Just typing those words, I well up a little, because isn't that the point? Isn't that what every musical theatre writer hopes for? A trust that the song is enough. That the song is the ultimate expression. And I smile, thanking Tom Hooper for knowing that it is.
My only concerns with the film are the concerns I have about
Les Mis as a stage show as well. Namely, its pacing in the second act and the
very nature of a sung through show. For the record, I think that device works
better in a film adaptation than a stage show. In the medium of the close up, it’s harder to justify the
intense emotion that necessitates only one method of release: song. That’s why
they sing on the stage. But in film, you have the close up. That much emotion
close up…. it can be overwhelming. It can backfire and make you uncomfortable.
My issue with an entirely sung through show—particularly
this show—is that it becomes too sing-song, that it feels naked and not in a
good way, was largely washed away when I heard director Tom Hooper explain it.
Rather than make a deal with the audience that asks us to
forgive or understand why sometimes the characters sing and sometimes they
speak, (sometimes a contradiction that’s easy to forgive and sometimes not) or
a trope like fantasy (Chicago) or the confines of a performative group of
people (Dream Girls) instead you create an alternate reality where singing is
essentially the only way that people communicate.
Other takeaways for me: Eddie Redmayne was exactly what
Marius should be (though watch out, they’ve cut the instrum intro to ‘Empty
Chairs.’) but nevertheless, Enjolras is the more compelling character, and I
think Aaron steals the scenes away from Eddie a lot. Maybe I’m bias. Samantha Barks
was just okay. BLESS Anne Dudley and Stephen Metcalfe for giving us a Les Mis with red-blooded orchestrations. I need never hear those synths again. Gavroche has always been the coolest kid to ever run Paris, but this Gavroche is so blued-eyed and vivid and alive that he's almost too real. Sacha Baron Cohen & Helena Bonham Carter as the Thenardiers seemed like they were from another movie, but I nevvvvver cared.Bonus points for Colm Wilkinson's cameo.
The packed theatre was audibly sobbing at multiple moments.
Even the men. Normally, when I recommend a movie musical, I do so for the
people who don’t love musicals, thinking: oh, this is removed enough. Maybe it
will give them a way in. But it is with pleasure that today I say, I’m not sure
what non musical theatre people will think of this movie and I don’t care. But
we geeky musis of the world, this is a film for us. And a film we can be proud of. Go see it. Though I know I
don’t have to tell you that.
