The eclipse today was pretty great. And even though I followed all the right procedures and used fancy NASA-approved glasses, my eyeballs hurt.
I’ve been visiting New York City off and on the last few days. It’s been a good vacation, but I think I’ve had enough of Manhattan for a while. That is one more crowded city.
So here, enjoy this gem from the amazing and gorgeous and talented Eartha Kitt, who was incidentally also my first (and possibly still my favorite) Catwoman.
English musician Thomas Dolby is probably best known here for his hit “She Blinded Me With Science” — and, as a result, probably best known by people in my age demographic. However, as excellent as that song is, his work definitely deserves a closer look.
His album Retrospectacle, a greatest hits compilation, was one of my favorites during my college years, and even now, it holds up beautifully. His work afterward seemed to be largely in the sphere of soundtracks, particularly for video games.
Here’s just a taste of his brilliance. “Budapest By Blimp” is a mellow song and can be enjoyed even if you aren’t paying attention to its lyrics, but the story in the song really opens it up. If you read the first comment after the video, you’ll see the text of a blog post wherein a teacher wrote to Dolby requesting more information about the song’s genesis and Dolby’s incredibly thoughtful response. It’s well worth reading.
It’s Monday, and I have a really fabulous song stuck in my head. Please allow me to share it with you. Please enjoy.
Here’s another poem-set-to-music by Ani diFranco. This one is from a live performance, possibly the same version as on her live double album Living In Clip (which is one of those take-with-me-if-I’m-stranded-on-a-deserted-island albums, by the way, so definitely check it out if you’re interested in hearing more of her music).
In “Not So Soft,” Ani takes on inequity.
So, the connection and crossover between poetry and song is storied and long. I think it was Paul Otremba, in a poetry workshop I was taking, who once suggested (and I’m paraphrasing) that if the song lyrics could stand on their own, if they didn’t need the experience of the music behind them to be meaningful or have an impact, they were probably also poetry. This seems like as wonderful an explanation as any I’ve ever heard about where these two forms overlap.
One of my favorite artists, without question, is the incomparable Ani diFranco. I love her work. Sometimes her albums (and her concerts) offer us a bit of spoken-word poetry, and because I’m keen to demonstrate that poetry comes to us in sometimes unexpected places and unexpected ways, tonight I’m sharing this song/poem of hers.
“Tamburitza Lingua” appears on the Reveling/Reckoning double album. It captures, adeptly, the existential angst of life in America at the apprehensive end of the last century and precarious dawning of this one, intertwined with the existential angst also of being a human of a particular mindset, age, and consciousness. I think you’ll understand this as you listen to the words, which are backed up deftly with a minimalist score that increases the feelings in the poem in an unexpectedly catchy, but never kitschy, way. (As a side note, a “tamburitza” is a mandolin-like instrument played in Slavic regions, and “lingua” means resembling or a part of a tongue.)
There are other videos of this song which are perhaps more interesting to watch, but I’m not really focused on that. This is a beautiful image, the lyrics show up like a moving poem over it, and the audio is good. Please to enjoy.
I confess that chief among the Christmas songs I cannot stand is “Little Drummer Boy.”
It would be easy to blame this on the fact that I had to sing it for my grade school’s Christmas program in sixth grade, but that’s probably not it. I think it’s more that nearly every single version of this song I’ve ever heard — and dear gods, there are many — is so unutterably dispiriting. How many different ways can you make a song sound like it’s marching dejectedly into a coma?
You know, if you’ve seen my Christmas music posts the last couple of years, that one of my favorite holiday albums is the one by Bad Religion. Their version of “Little Drummer Boy” actually does not suck. Sure, it’s a little martial, but it has energy and verve and sounds like that little drummer boy is playing his effing heart for the Baby Jesus. Way to go.