If you’ve followed this blog for any period of time, you know how important music is to me. And if you don’t... well, go back to the older posts and get yourself caught up! What else were you really going to do with your summer? But if you have, you should know that it’s no small thing when I say this past weekend I saw one of my favorite artists perform live in concert: Neal Morse. In all seriousness, the only concert I can think of that would be a bigger deal for me than this would be to see Queen re-unite with Freddie Mercury. Which is not going to happen.
Yeah, I know you’ve never heard of him. That’s okay. Few have. You’re not going to know him from the radio because even though he’s been recording for close to 20 years, he plays in the genre of progressive rock. If you aren’t familiar with that, I’ll give you a pretty good definition of what it is from the man himself: “Music that incorporates many different styles and breaks out of normal song structure... the writing style has more in common with classical music than pop, using recurring musical themes and complex melodies and counter melodies. The pieces are also typically longer than the usual three- to four-minute pop fare, much like a classical composition would be.” I would also add that lyrically the themes are more complex, often becoming conceptual pieces with story threads that often link together all works on an entire album.
Being a progressive rock fan can put you on the same level of nerd as being a Star Trek fan for some people, and not just a casual Star Trek fan but the kind who would attend conventions wearing a Klingon costume after studying Klingon language CDs for the authenticity. Progressive rock doesn’t have casual fans. The people who love it love it passionately, which isn’t always a cool thing to admit about anything when you’re a fan. For me, it’s about songwriting, composition, and musical virtuosity. As a music fan, I tend to see these things as positives.
I first heard of Neal when he was still in his old band, Spock’s Beard, which I’d discovered through a connection from another favorite band, Dream Theater. Spock’s became a quick favorite, and as is the case with many bands, one guy was the driving creative force behind it all: Neal. Later, while still in Spock’s, Neal formed a side band with Mike Portnoy, the drummer from Dream Theater. This new band, Transatlantic, also had Neal’s fingerprints all over it. After a decade, he left both bands, feeling a call from his Christian beliefs to go a different direction with his career and his life. As a fan, this was scary at first, because a lot of contemporary Christian music is generally awful -- and I say this as a lifelong Catholic. But Neal kept making the same kind of complex and involved music he’d always made, only with Christian themes. Sometimes those themes were overt and sometimes very understated, but always with the same sensibility. And frankly, that sensibility was subtly present in of much of his earlier band work already. Once I saw his musical voice was still intact, I was relived.
As passionate as Neal’s fan base is, he still isn’t very well-known so he doesn’t tour very much. When it was announced he was doing a tour in North America to promote a new album, and was going to play in Seattle, where my friend Dax lives, making the arrangements to see him wasn’t a hard decision to make. Dax and I had more or less discovered Neal’s music in parallel, and for us to see one of our favorites together? It was a once in a lifetime chance.
An added bonus was that Mike Portnoy was touring with him as the drummer, which was a perfect fit since Mike almost exclusively does the drumming on Neal’s recorded work. Now, Mike is arguably the best drummer in the world. I know it’s easy to throw around hyperbole when people talk about their favorite music and musicians, especially when you’re a huge fan. Trust me though, this is not misplaced -- he just might be the best drummer on the face of the Earth. My nephew made a telling point about Mike after seeing him perform live in Dream Theater: “He’s just back there behind the drum kit goofing around the whole time while he’s playing stuff that is friggin’ impossible to play.” Curious? You want proof? YouTube. Just saying. It’s out there.
I flew out to Seattle a day early to stay with Dax and his wife Melissa, then met up with Dax’s father the next day since he was going to the concert with us. The show was in a theater in Seattle’s Experience Music Project -- if you aren’t familiar with this, it’s a museum of popular music, much of which is interactive. It’s a great idea and on the verge of being a really cool place that doesn’t quite reach its potential. Traveling there to see the exhibits would have been a disappointment, but we were there for the show.
The venue was about the size of a mid-sized club, with a capacity of just under one thousand. The seating was general admission, but there was no mad rush when the doors opened. The merchandise line (yeah, you bet I bought a shirt) was polite and genial, just total strangers waiting and talking so much about this music they love and appreciating that there were other people they could talk with about it. People would ask each if seats were taken instead of jostling their way to be as close to the stage as possible. The show was all about the music with none of the traditional “party” elements -- primarily there were no dancing, screaming drunks out to party for a night while the kids stuck at home with the babysitter. In fact, one of the key members of the band went into the crowd to visit with some guests of his before the show started, and even though everyone in the room knew who he was, he wandered through the audience completely unaccosted, with few people offering only respectful hellos and wishes for a good show.
The experience of hearing one of my favorite artists playing songs that have such deep, personal meaning me, isn’t something I’d even want to try and describe for fear of missing the mark. It was powerful and intimate and inspiring at the same time. A line I’ve used occasionally with people, such as in the days before my sister’s death, was that I was able to pull through some pretty dark times because “I’ve got Neal’s music to heal up the existential wounds.” Which really describes what this music means to me, so make the leap of what it would mean to hear that music performed by the guy who created it and you’re probably most of the way there.
Our seats were just beside the sound board, right behind the VIP section set up in front of the stage, in what would have been the equivalent of the fifth row, the best seats I’ve had for any show I’ve seen. At one point between songs, Mike Portnoy even stood up behind the kit to shout out an added point about something Neal was saying, and we could all hear him loud and clear even without a microphone. Neal sang and played ten yards away from where I stood, about the distance from one side of my classroom to the other. He’s a multi-instrumentalist, so even though he played keyboards for most of the show, he would frequently strap on a guitar and play that as well, even taking on some lengthy and complicated solos with just as much skill as he demonstrated on his keyboard.
Are you intrigued by any of this? Go on iTunes, preview and buy something, and give the man a chance. If you do, I’d recommend Spock’s Beard’s album “V,” Transatlantic’s “Bridge Across Forever,” or Neal’s own “Lifeline,” even if that album has the one song from the show I could have done without. Though if I’m being candid I’d really recommend Neal’s “Testimony” and Spock’s Beard’s “Snow.” Those are two of my three all-time favorite albums, but since they’re double albums they cost more.
A few months back I wrote a post here about why concerts suck, and everything I said there still holds true. But this show? This was an exception in every imaginable way. I spent $700 in airline tickets and spent a total of ten hours round-trip on four different flights (two of which I came uncomfortably close to missing) to see a show that was nearly four hours long in a small theater with about 900 other people.
It was totally worth it.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Exploring the Gaga / Manson Parallel
"We hardly need / to use our ears / How music changes / through the years."
This is a line from the song “Radio Gaga” by Queen, from their 1984 album “The Works.” The song is now probably best known as the song from which Lady Gaga took her name. Considering what the song is about, I feel she made an accidentally ironic choice for her origin. Or maybe she didn’t; I’m not convinced anything she does is accidental. I don’t know if there is an artist in contemporary music today who is more calculating and intentional with every aspect of her career and persona. And it’s because of this, I’ve come up with the theory that despite what so many people think, Lady Gaga is not using Madonna as a template for her career. She’s using Marilyn Manson.
If I try to bring this up with people, I get one of two reactions: Reaction #1: “But... but... but... NO! She’s a girl, and he’s a guy! There’s just no way....” Well, Gaga herself would be the first one to tell you to step outside of that particular box, Chester. Reaction #2: “Okay, so, how much time do you exactly have to think about things like this?”
Naysayers aside, I think there are points to be made:
*Both have very deliberate on-camera personas. Neither of them can be that much of a freak 24 hours a day. I have to believe the rules change when they see a camera in the room.
*Both appeal to a die-hard fan base comprised of people who, for different reasons, too often find themselves alienated from mainstream society. At the same time, they are able to make music that has a wider surface level appeal.
*Both will do things intentionally shocking simply to stir controversy, appealing to that hardcore fan base and repelling their political/cultural opposites at the same time.
*Both liberally use sexual, violent, and religious imagery as part of their artistic palettes.
*Both go out of their way to show how much they care about their fans. Gaga encourages her fans to be free and brave and love themselves. In the movie “Bowling for Columbine,” Manson was being interviewed about any responsibility he felt for his music driving kids to act violently, and what he would say to the kids who had committed the Columbine shootings. His response: “I wouldn’t have said anything to them. I would have listened.” Which I thought was one of the more lucid moments any talking head had in the political fallout of that nightmare.
Anyway. Getting kind of deep here. My point today is that there are definite parallels between the two, and even if Manson has none of the cultural gravity he might have had a decade ago, I still think Gaga saw what he did and thought, “That might be a way to run a career.” For the record: Am I a fan of either of them? No. But I understand why other people are. I don’t have any Manson on the iPod, but I usually let him play if he comes on the radio. As for Gaga, I did download one of her songs - “Paparazzi,” which got stuck in my head one night because of the radio playing at Subway, and downloading it was the only way to get rid of it. It’s a good hook-filled song that turned out to be kind of dark, which I thought was cool for a pop song. But with Gaga, I’m puzzled by why she’s so huge. Sure, her songs are catchy. But so are most of the songs that come up in the one-hit wonder marathons on VH1 Classic. Sure, she’s got a nice body and doesn’t mind dressing in a way to show it off. But the same case could be made with the waitress from my last visit to Bennigan’s. So for her to become a cultural phenomenon that surpasses her role model Marilyn, there must be something else I’m missing. So I decided to watch her HBO special and see what there was to discover....
*The show opens with a short black and white film, showing her day as it leads up to her Madison Square Garden performance. She walks into a NYC coffee shop, dressed like a circus prostitute from Mars. I am led to believe this is status quo for her. I have my doubts.
*The concert begins. She starts singing only in silhouette, while the camera pans through the audience to show off the glitter, make-up, body paint and homemade costumes of The Fans. The stage is a some kind of trashy digital backyard of post-apocalyptic chic full of neon signs projecting vaguely inappropriate and desperately provocative messages. Now she’s onstage with something like twelve dancers, and as the song goes on, she introduces each dancer as if they are some kind of a character I’ll need to relate to later. This does not bode well.
Great. Now we have a story line. Her and the dancers are on their way to The Monster Ball, but the car broke down! Luckily Gaga is there to throw off her jacket, pop open the hood, and.... yes. There’s a keyboard inside, where the engine should be. I swear I’m not making this up.
*I think I’ve heard this song. “Just Dance?” That’s a song of hers, right? Am I hearing this wrong, or is this really being sung from the perspective of someone in a nightclub who has just been ruffied?
Suddenly a shirtless, eye-linered guitarist appears out of nowhere. She introduces him as Jesus. She’s now wearing a new purple hat that looks like a leftover iceberg from a 4th grade diorama.
The dialog between Gaga and the dancers is painful. “What’s the Monster Ball really, really all about, Gaga?” “Well Victor, it will set you free.” Okay. That clears it up. I’ve heard deeper interaction between Shaggy and Scoob.
Now we have some scripted, downright robotic banter with the audience: “Tonight you can be anything. I created the Monster Ball for my fans, and locked all of the freaks outside!!” Actually, I think a few may have snuck in. We’re given the secret to finding the Monster Ball: Follow the Glitter Way. Because there isn’t enough glitter in Madison Square Garden right now. At least she didn’t say Follow your dreams. Though I’m sure that’s still coming.
After another costume change -- I’ve lost track, but I’d estimate four -- she reappears with an instrument that is part string bass, part keytar and part drum pad -- this thing looks like what would happen if a Guitar Center was assimilated by the Borg. At least her costume has what have to be traffic cones for shoulder pads, so that’s interesting.
And then here’s Jesus back with a couple of new friends -- it’s refreshing to see that there are actual musicians on the stage, even if they are vastly outnumbered by dancers. Jesus trades solos with some guy from the matrix, and then Gaga reappears dressed like the Flying Nun would be if she wore transparent rubber.
Okay, now all of the dancers are in this subway car on the stage. Ironically there can’t be any way the audience can see what’s going on in that car, but the HBO cameras are right there getting the whole scene. One of the dancers has now retrieved a Magical Scepter of Glowing Crystal from the subway -- because where else are you going to find one? -- and presents it to Gaga, who wields it triumphantly.
Here’s a moment of actual stage banter, and I give her credit for ad-libbing the funniest thing I’ve heard all day as she looks out to the crowd: “That is the most fabulous gay unicorn I’ve ever seen!” Really? How many others have you seen, by way of comparison? Were they all purple with golden ballet hooves? By the way, that transparent rubber, or possibly latex, suit she’s wearing? She is visibly sweaty inside of it now. That cannot be comfortable.
A note about the music so far: I hate to say this, but if she plays a song I haven’t heard on the radio, there has been nothing to distinguish one from the next. Except on this one she’s playing a keytar the size and shape of a 4-foot Christmas tree made out of shiny black Rubik’s Cubes.
Telephone: Okay, I know this song. When I hear it I always wonder, “If you want to dance so much, why not just turn the phone off for a few minutes?” but I guess that would defeat the purpose. This is actually a cool moment. The energy in the band, and the dancers, and the audience has all changed. You can tell from the fan reaction this has been one of their highlights of the night. I’ll give the girl credit -- for all of the weird on display, she is working her butt off to put on a good show.
Costume change again - now just down to the studded-leather underwear and a police hat. But she’s sitting at this piano, distressed to look like it was rescued from a fire. And suddenly, sitting at the piano, everything changes. There’s actual stage banter. She’s more open and vulnerable, and engaging. Her voice has a different quality to it, and for the first time I’m seeing evidence that she really can sing. It’s not robotic and put-upon, but very emotional and expressive. She says the song is called “Speechless.” This one is really good. I wish she would have just played it through instead of stopping for two minutes to make sure everyone knew Liza Minelli was in the crowd. Just shut up and play the song or you’re going to lose me again. She goes right into another piano song, “You and I.” This one is really, really good. If this was what more of her music was like, I’d be into her. But then there’s Jesus and his guitar again, and 85% naked Gaga climbs on her piano bench to use her stiletto heel as a slide on his guitar neck, and like that we are back at the Monster Ball.
Costume change - now she’s dressed like a cross between Ming the Merciless and a fiber optic Christmas tree that dreamed it was getting married. It only lasts one song, then she comes back wearing a half-gorilla suit. Which is also gone soon, but that’s okay because it’s only a few minutes until she’s covered in stage blood, which she generously shares with her dancers while they all rub up on each other.
“Show Me Your Teeth?” Really? This is a song? I’m hating this. After that time she played piano and showed some chops as a musician and songwriter, she’s back to being an oversexed Power Ranger.
Next song - Alejandro. I’ve only heard bits of this but I know of the song because I have an Alejandro in class, and he HATES it when people sing “Ale-Alejandro” to him. Soon she’s playing in a fountain, and might climb all the way in.... but no, she’s rescued at the last minute by the dancer wearing the leather-studded Roman Centurion headpiece.
Poker Face. Sequined body suit that keeps no secrets whatsoever. Dancers wearing disco ball motorcycle helmets. She’s getting out the big songs now, so we must be in the homestretch. Paprazzi, which features an encounter with the actual Fame Monster, which is a big old version of that scary deep water glowing fish from “Finding Nemo.” It strips off most of her clothing, but luckily she defeats it, and just in time to disappear and come back with a bra capable of it’s own 4th of July fireworks show. This is just ridiculous.
Bad Romance. Another song I kind of like, but this live version isn’t doing much for me, which is disappointing because I was looking forward to it. I’m really just kind of bored with the excess at this point. She closes with “Born This Way,” which I’ve never actually heard but feels more like a collection of empowering clichés set to a beat than an actual song. But she does go play one of those mall-music-store display organs for all of nine seconds. So that was worth bringing onstage. I can see how this would be a huge blowout of a final song if you were one of those ticket-buying fans, but I’m just glad to see it all wrapping up.
The show ends. We’re black and white again, and we see her quickly talking to a few fans backstage before she throws on a genuine Muppet-skin jacket and disappears into a waiting suburban. The credits roll. There are more dancers listed than musicians.
Which encapsulates the show perfectly.
This is a line from the song “Radio Gaga” by Queen, from their 1984 album “The Works.” The song is now probably best known as the song from which Lady Gaga took her name. Considering what the song is about, I feel she made an accidentally ironic choice for her origin. Or maybe she didn’t; I’m not convinced anything she does is accidental. I don’t know if there is an artist in contemporary music today who is more calculating and intentional with every aspect of her career and persona. And it’s because of this, I’ve come up with the theory that despite what so many people think, Lady Gaga is not using Madonna as a template for her career. She’s using Marilyn Manson.
If I try to bring this up with people, I get one of two reactions: Reaction #1: “But... but... but... NO! She’s a girl, and he’s a guy! There’s just no way....” Well, Gaga herself would be the first one to tell you to step outside of that particular box, Chester. Reaction #2: “Okay, so, how much time do you exactly have to think about things like this?”
Naysayers aside, I think there are points to be made:
*Both have very deliberate on-camera personas. Neither of them can be that much of a freak 24 hours a day. I have to believe the rules change when they see a camera in the room.
*Both appeal to a die-hard fan base comprised of people who, for different reasons, too often find themselves alienated from mainstream society. At the same time, they are able to make music that has a wider surface level appeal.
*Both will do things intentionally shocking simply to stir controversy, appealing to that hardcore fan base and repelling their political/cultural opposites at the same time.
*Both liberally use sexual, violent, and religious imagery as part of their artistic palettes.
*Both go out of their way to show how much they care about their fans. Gaga encourages her fans to be free and brave and love themselves. In the movie “Bowling for Columbine,” Manson was being interviewed about any responsibility he felt for his music driving kids to act violently, and what he would say to the kids who had committed the Columbine shootings. His response: “I wouldn’t have said anything to them. I would have listened.” Which I thought was one of the more lucid moments any talking head had in the political fallout of that nightmare.
Anyway. Getting kind of deep here. My point today is that there are definite parallels between the two, and even if Manson has none of the cultural gravity he might have had a decade ago, I still think Gaga saw what he did and thought, “That might be a way to run a career.” For the record: Am I a fan of either of them? No. But I understand why other people are. I don’t have any Manson on the iPod, but I usually let him play if he comes on the radio. As for Gaga, I did download one of her songs - “Paparazzi,” which got stuck in my head one night because of the radio playing at Subway, and downloading it was the only way to get rid of it. It’s a good hook-filled song that turned out to be kind of dark, which I thought was cool for a pop song. But with Gaga, I’m puzzled by why she’s so huge. Sure, her songs are catchy. But so are most of the songs that come up in the one-hit wonder marathons on VH1 Classic. Sure, she’s got a nice body and doesn’t mind dressing in a way to show it off. But the same case could be made with the waitress from my last visit to Bennigan’s. So for her to become a cultural phenomenon that surpasses her role model Marilyn, there must be something else I’m missing. So I decided to watch her HBO special and see what there was to discover....
*The show opens with a short black and white film, showing her day as it leads up to her Madison Square Garden performance. She walks into a NYC coffee shop, dressed like a circus prostitute from Mars. I am led to believe this is status quo for her. I have my doubts.
*The concert begins. She starts singing only in silhouette, while the camera pans through the audience to show off the glitter, make-up, body paint and homemade costumes of The Fans. The stage is a some kind of trashy digital backyard of post-apocalyptic chic full of neon signs projecting vaguely inappropriate and desperately provocative messages. Now she’s onstage with something like twelve dancers, and as the song goes on, she introduces each dancer as if they are some kind of a character I’ll need to relate to later. This does not bode well.
Great. Now we have a story line. Her and the dancers are on their way to The Monster Ball, but the car broke down! Luckily Gaga is there to throw off her jacket, pop open the hood, and.... yes. There’s a keyboard inside, where the engine should be. I swear I’m not making this up.
*I think I’ve heard this song. “Just Dance?” That’s a song of hers, right? Am I hearing this wrong, or is this really being sung from the perspective of someone in a nightclub who has just been ruffied?
Suddenly a shirtless, eye-linered guitarist appears out of nowhere. She introduces him as Jesus. She’s now wearing a new purple hat that looks like a leftover iceberg from a 4th grade diorama.
The dialog between Gaga and the dancers is painful. “What’s the Monster Ball really, really all about, Gaga?” “Well Victor, it will set you free.” Okay. That clears it up. I’ve heard deeper interaction between Shaggy and Scoob.
Now we have some scripted, downright robotic banter with the audience: “Tonight you can be anything. I created the Monster Ball for my fans, and locked all of the freaks outside!!” Actually, I think a few may have snuck in. We’re given the secret to finding the Monster Ball: Follow the Glitter Way. Because there isn’t enough glitter in Madison Square Garden right now. At least she didn’t say Follow your dreams. Though I’m sure that’s still coming.
After another costume change -- I’ve lost track, but I’d estimate four -- she reappears with an instrument that is part string bass, part keytar and part drum pad -- this thing looks like what would happen if a Guitar Center was assimilated by the Borg. At least her costume has what have to be traffic cones for shoulder pads, so that’s interesting.
And then here’s Jesus back with a couple of new friends -- it’s refreshing to see that there are actual musicians on the stage, even if they are vastly outnumbered by dancers. Jesus trades solos with some guy from the matrix, and then Gaga reappears dressed like the Flying Nun would be if she wore transparent rubber.
Okay, now all of the dancers are in this subway car on the stage. Ironically there can’t be any way the audience can see what’s going on in that car, but the HBO cameras are right there getting the whole scene. One of the dancers has now retrieved a Magical Scepter of Glowing Crystal from the subway -- because where else are you going to find one? -- and presents it to Gaga, who wields it triumphantly.
Here’s a moment of actual stage banter, and I give her credit for ad-libbing the funniest thing I’ve heard all day as she looks out to the crowd: “That is the most fabulous gay unicorn I’ve ever seen!” Really? How many others have you seen, by way of comparison? Were they all purple with golden ballet hooves? By the way, that transparent rubber, or possibly latex, suit she’s wearing? She is visibly sweaty inside of it now. That cannot be comfortable.
A note about the music so far: I hate to say this, but if she plays a song I haven’t heard on the radio, there has been nothing to distinguish one from the next. Except on this one she’s playing a keytar the size and shape of a 4-foot Christmas tree made out of shiny black Rubik’s Cubes.
Telephone: Okay, I know this song. When I hear it I always wonder, “If you want to dance so much, why not just turn the phone off for a few minutes?” but I guess that would defeat the purpose. This is actually a cool moment. The energy in the band, and the dancers, and the audience has all changed. You can tell from the fan reaction this has been one of their highlights of the night. I’ll give the girl credit -- for all of the weird on display, she is working her butt off to put on a good show.
Costume change again - now just down to the studded-leather underwear and a police hat. But she’s sitting at this piano, distressed to look like it was rescued from a fire. And suddenly, sitting at the piano, everything changes. There’s actual stage banter. She’s more open and vulnerable, and engaging. Her voice has a different quality to it, and for the first time I’m seeing evidence that she really can sing. It’s not robotic and put-upon, but very emotional and expressive. She says the song is called “Speechless.” This one is really good. I wish she would have just played it through instead of stopping for two minutes to make sure everyone knew Liza Minelli was in the crowd. Just shut up and play the song or you’re going to lose me again. She goes right into another piano song, “You and I.” This one is really, really good. If this was what more of her music was like, I’d be into her. But then there’s Jesus and his guitar again, and 85% naked Gaga climbs on her piano bench to use her stiletto heel as a slide on his guitar neck, and like that we are back at the Monster Ball.
Costume change - now she’s dressed like a cross between Ming the Merciless and a fiber optic Christmas tree that dreamed it was getting married. It only lasts one song, then she comes back wearing a half-gorilla suit. Which is also gone soon, but that’s okay because it’s only a few minutes until she’s covered in stage blood, which she generously shares with her dancers while they all rub up on each other.
“Show Me Your Teeth?” Really? This is a song? I’m hating this. After that time she played piano and showed some chops as a musician and songwriter, she’s back to being an oversexed Power Ranger.
Next song - Alejandro. I’ve only heard bits of this but I know of the song because I have an Alejandro in class, and he HATES it when people sing “Ale-Alejandro” to him. Soon she’s playing in a fountain, and might climb all the way in.... but no, she’s rescued at the last minute by the dancer wearing the leather-studded Roman Centurion headpiece.
Poker Face. Sequined body suit that keeps no secrets whatsoever. Dancers wearing disco ball motorcycle helmets. She’s getting out the big songs now, so we must be in the homestretch. Paprazzi, which features an encounter with the actual Fame Monster, which is a big old version of that scary deep water glowing fish from “Finding Nemo.” It strips off most of her clothing, but luckily she defeats it, and just in time to disappear and come back with a bra capable of it’s own 4th of July fireworks show. This is just ridiculous.
Bad Romance. Another song I kind of like, but this live version isn’t doing much for me, which is disappointing because I was looking forward to it. I’m really just kind of bored with the excess at this point. She closes with “Born This Way,” which I’ve never actually heard but feels more like a collection of empowering clichés set to a beat than an actual song. But she does go play one of those mall-music-store display organs for all of nine seconds. So that was worth bringing onstage. I can see how this would be a huge blowout of a final song if you were one of those ticket-buying fans, but I’m just glad to see it all wrapping up.
The show ends. We’re black and white again, and we see her quickly talking to a few fans backstage before she throws on a genuine Muppet-skin jacket and disappears into a waiting suburban. The credits roll. There are more dancers listed than musicians.
Which encapsulates the show perfectly.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Test Marketing
Next year will be my 20th year of teaching. Since 20 years is a nice round number and shows I've been in the game long enough to have something to say about it, and since I'm nothing if not reflective to the point of self-indulgence, I've decided to commemorate this milestone year by beginning to write the book about teaching I've always known in the back of my mind I was going to write sooner or later.
The problem is I don't exactly know what shape it's going to take yet. Fiction? Possibly. I have a lot of ideas in the Vault, but I don't know if I should highlight the ridiculousness of it all, or show a more balanced version that mixes the comedy and the bureaucratic farce and the all-out life tragedies that too often are a part of the job. Or what about non-fiction? Maybe I could do another memoir, reflecting on my own experiences of the past 20 years, either as an anecdotal overview or a collection of events out of the past structured to follow a typical school year. And these are just a few ideas; I really don't know which way to go yet. One day I'll think, "Oh yeah, that's definitely what I should do," only to realize soon after how many reasons there are why it wouldn't be a good idea.
So here's my plan. Over the summer, I'm going to write a series trials -- short stories or essays, probably -- to serve as warm-ups, helping me find a voice to use, and an overall tone for the project, and just trying out what kinds of stories would work effectively for what I'd like to accomplish. However, I'm not going to post these here on the blog. Maybe some of them, but certainly not all; some of the stories I could tell simply don't need to be on the Internet, as anyone who has worked in public education themselves could attest to.
So instead, I'm asking for test readers I could include in a mailing group. Would you be interested in reading some of these stories? And would you be willing to give me a little feedback on them to help me find some direction for this project? If so, I'd love to hear from you. If you'd like to be in my test-marketing e-mail group, just send me a message or leave a comment on the link you probably followed from Facebook to get here. I've also enabled commenting again right here on the site, but I'd caution anyone away from including contact information in any comments they might leave here -- the Internet is full of really bad people. To my still-puzzling hypothetical international readership -- sorry folks, but you'll remain out of the loop on this one. I'm really only going to share stories like these with people I trust.
I know a request like this goes against my tenet of not asking people to read my writing since I don't like feeling that desperate, but for something like this I think an exception might be warranted. I almost feel like I'm setting myself up for disappointment since I don't expect to hear back from many people, but you never know until you try. If you stop by the blog here occasionally, and generally enjoy what you read, you should have a pretty good idea of what you'd be signing up for. If that sounds interesting, I say go for it.
Okay. Head on back to Facebook and let the commenting begin. Let's find out if this is anything more than the sound of one hand clapping.
The problem is I don't exactly know what shape it's going to take yet. Fiction? Possibly. I have a lot of ideas in the Vault, but I don't know if I should highlight the ridiculousness of it all, or show a more balanced version that mixes the comedy and the bureaucratic farce and the all-out life tragedies that too often are a part of the job. Or what about non-fiction? Maybe I could do another memoir, reflecting on my own experiences of the past 20 years, either as an anecdotal overview or a collection of events out of the past structured to follow a typical school year. And these are just a few ideas; I really don't know which way to go yet. One day I'll think, "Oh yeah, that's definitely what I should do," only to realize soon after how many reasons there are why it wouldn't be a good idea.
So here's my plan. Over the summer, I'm going to write a series trials -- short stories or essays, probably -- to serve as warm-ups, helping me find a voice to use, and an overall tone for the project, and just trying out what kinds of stories would work effectively for what I'd like to accomplish. However, I'm not going to post these here on the blog. Maybe some of them, but certainly not all; some of the stories I could tell simply don't need to be on the Internet, as anyone who has worked in public education themselves could attest to.
So instead, I'm asking for test readers I could include in a mailing group. Would you be interested in reading some of these stories? And would you be willing to give me a little feedback on them to help me find some direction for this project? If so, I'd love to hear from you. If you'd like to be in my test-marketing e-mail group, just send me a message or leave a comment on the link you probably followed from Facebook to get here. I've also enabled commenting again right here on the site, but I'd caution anyone away from including contact information in any comments they might leave here -- the Internet is full of really bad people. To my still-puzzling hypothetical international readership -- sorry folks, but you'll remain out of the loop on this one. I'm really only going to share stories like these with people I trust.
I know a request like this goes against my tenet of not asking people to read my writing since I don't like feeling that desperate, but for something like this I think an exception might be warranted. I almost feel like I'm setting myself up for disappointment since I don't expect to hear back from many people, but you never know until you try. If you stop by the blog here occasionally, and generally enjoy what you read, you should have a pretty good idea of what you'd be signing up for. If that sounds interesting, I say go for it.
Okay. Head on back to Facebook and let the commenting begin. Let's find out if this is anything more than the sound of one hand clapping.
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