Book club at Wendy's!

Another good one!

Pictures from whenever that was...

... as requested!

My mother's review of "Cloverfield"

It was 1½ hours of young people in chaos and terror when some kind of monster attacked New York. The camera work appeared to be hand-held video, and the dialogue consisted largely of screams of "Oh, my God!" and "Are you okay?" How can a film like that be taken seriously?

This reminds me of her comment about the remake of War of the Worlds a couple of years ago, which was that the primary "dialogue" of the film was the names of the children, over and over again: "Robbie! Rachel! Rachel! Robbie!"

She's so right.

This is why I wait for DVD. The fast-forward button is ever so useful!

"Lay Down and Listen"?!

(As a former proofreader, I'm in pain just looking at that!)

Update, February 5:
AMG editor Patsy Morita has issues with this album title, too! "How can you and your music be in harmony," she asks (referring to the entire series entitled In Harmony with Classical Music), "when you know the imperative in the title takes an object and it’s not there?" Ha! So true. See the whole entry here!

Watching "In Search of the English Folk Song"

Here's a fascinating thing. In 1997, wonderfully weird director Ken Russell did a special on Channel Four in the U.K. called In Search of the English Folk Song. It's just now come out on DVD.

It starts with "Brigg Fair" in a version for voice and orchestra by Percy Grainger, while a white-haired Ken Russell dances about in the woods. From here, Russell makes his way from rocker pub locals to folkies in home studios to protest singers who were arrested in the early 80s. "We made a nuisance of ourselves," says one of a fierce trio of women who protested the placement of cruise missiles in Greenham, and they sing one of the feisty ditties that they entertained themselves with in prison. I wish I had the conviction and the courage to make that kind of a nuisance of myself.

Then Russell finds the riveting June Tabor, who explains a folk song as profoundly as she sings it. That voice is hypnotic. The song she sings must have a dozen verses, but you never want her to stop.

Then there's Eliza Carthy, whom I've had the good fortune to see twice, singing "Good Morning, Mr. Walker" -- oh! such energy. It's '97 and she's a mere whippersnapper and not quite as smooth as she is now, but you can feel that love for the music just oozing out of her. She was meant to be a folk singer. It's clear. Especially once you see Waterson Carthy doing "Stars in My Crown." They have no choice but to sing. Or rather it is their choice. It's their breath.

Fairport Convention show up eventually, and even Donovan makes an appearance. Does that guy ever age? "Nirva-a-a-a-ana," he sings in his treacly voice as Ken and his producer drive off, calling, "Bye, Donovan! See you there!"

There's plenty of the island beat thing that the English love, too, and there should be. It's fun, it's folk, it's George Michael and it's Mika. "We've always plundered other people's cultures!" cries Russell before gamely bellowing snippets of various music-hall ditties, football chants, war songs, broadside ballads, and nursery rhymes by way of example.

Extraordinarily, the whole thing ends with a chamber ensemble called the Percy Grainger Orchestra playing the tippy-toes silliness of "Country Gardens."

Whoooooooo!

Okay, I'm watching it again.

Tenors are a girl's best friend

A fabulous shot from my dad's "Ti Tenorer" (Ten Tenors) event in Karlskrona, Sweden, along with the luminous Swedish soprano Cecilia Hjortsberg.

I love my new chair!