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Opera Karaoke?
Jan. 8th, 2005 05:53 pmAnyone out there got an orchestral, vocal-free version of La donna è mobile from Verdi's Rigoletto? You Send It to dherblay *at* LiveJournal.com, please, please, please!
Psychoticbumpschool
Aug. 7th, 2004 09:26 pmJustice League Unlimited just totally ripped off "Soul Purpose".
***
Rick James has died at age 56 of natural causes. Though one would assume with Rick James that it wasn't so much natural causes as a long, polyrhythmic concatenation of extraordinary causes.
I was thinking about Rick James a few days ago, even before I heard of his passing, as I was reflecting on "lost albums," those records which were made but never released. Certainly the lost album I most wish to hear is the album James made with his mid-sixties Toronto band The Mynah Birds. The Mynah Birds were, with Bobby Taylor and the Vancouvers, one of Berry Gordy's first salt-and-pepper signings in his attempt to find an interracial group that could, like Booker T. & the M.G.'s, bridge the gap between soul and rock markets. The group came down to Detroit and recorded an album, but the album was stored away after it was revealed that James, the group's lead singer, was at that point AWOL from the US Navy. Gordy always demanded that his artists maintain a certain image of wholesomeness, and he suggested to James that he go and serve his debt to society; there might be a place for him at Motown when he had fulfilled his other responisibilities. It took James twelve years to return to Motown; in the meantime, his bassist and guitarist, Bruce Palmer and Neil Young respectively, decamped for California where they hooked up with Stephen Stills and formed Buffalo Springfield. At least one person who has heard the album has called it "Holland-Dozier-Holland with twelve-string guitars." Others have said that you can't hear much of Young's guitar on it at all -- of course, I'd rather listen to the Funk Brothers anyday.
A different album has recently reappeared from the mists of memory: the album John Kerry made with his high school garage band The Electras (certainly one of the three or four greatest surf bands ever to come out of New Hampshire) will be hitting stores soon. From what I've heard of his bass playing, Kerry is competent if unremarkable; of course, he recorded the album in 1962, well before John Entwhistle and Larry Graham emerged with the idea that a rock bass player could be more than competent if unremarkable. Tom Feran (who ends his column with a pun unbefitting a former editor of The Harvard Lampoon) asked a local Cleveland DJ and a local garage band to review the album; their reaction could be summed up as "Kerry was a root note bassist - pretty simple, but that's what you're supposed to do with that style." Entertainment Weekly got The Hives to offer another review:
Bootsy's Rubber Band: "Psychoticbumpschool (Live)" (YouSendIt.com)
***
Rick James has died at age 56 of natural causes. Though one would assume with Rick James that it wasn't so much natural causes as a long, polyrhythmic concatenation of extraordinary causes.
I was thinking about Rick James a few days ago, even before I heard of his passing, as I was reflecting on "lost albums," those records which were made but never released. Certainly the lost album I most wish to hear is the album James made with his mid-sixties Toronto band The Mynah Birds. The Mynah Birds were, with Bobby Taylor and the Vancouvers, one of Berry Gordy's first salt-and-pepper signings in his attempt to find an interracial group that could, like Booker T. & the M.G.'s, bridge the gap between soul and rock markets. The group came down to Detroit and recorded an album, but the album was stored away after it was revealed that James, the group's lead singer, was at that point AWOL from the US Navy. Gordy always demanded that his artists maintain a certain image of wholesomeness, and he suggested to James that he go and serve his debt to society; there might be a place for him at Motown when he had fulfilled his other responisibilities. It took James twelve years to return to Motown; in the meantime, his bassist and guitarist, Bruce Palmer and Neil Young respectively, decamped for California where they hooked up with Stephen Stills and formed Buffalo Springfield. At least one person who has heard the album has called it "Holland-Dozier-Holland with twelve-string guitars." Others have said that you can't hear much of Young's guitar on it at all -- of course, I'd rather listen to the Funk Brothers anyday.
A different album has recently reappeared from the mists of memory: the album John Kerry made with his high school garage band The Electras (certainly one of the three or four greatest surf bands ever to come out of New Hampshire) will be hitting stores soon. From what I've heard of his bass playing, Kerry is competent if unremarkable; of course, he recorded the album in 1962, well before John Entwhistle and Larry Graham emerged with the idea that a rock bass player could be more than competent if unremarkable. Tom Feran (who ends his column with a pun unbefitting a former editor of The Harvard Lampoon) asked a local Cleveland DJ and a local garage band to review the album; their reaction could be summed up as "Kerry was a root note bassist - pretty simple, but that's what you're supposed to do with that style." Entertainment Weekly got The Hives to offer another review:
The bassist is a solid foundation, a good person. Maybe bass players don't have the strongest leadership qualities, but they are good at negotiating, they have a basic fairness, which is very important if you're gonna run a country.All of which I'd be fine with at this point. But though I don't want to seem overly enthusiastic about Kerry, I do have to point out that occasionally the bass player turns out to be Bootsy Collins.
Bootsy's Rubber Band: "Psychoticbumpschool (Live)" (YouSendIt.com)
(no subject)
Jul. 30th, 2004 12:34 amThe JibJab/Woody Guthrie copyright battle deepens: the Electronic Freedom Foundation provides sonic evidence that Guthrie himself may have ripped off the Carter Family. Jesse Walker then points out that the Carter Family claimed ownership of a number of traditional folksongs.
I'm waiting for someone to rework "The Lemon Song," and for the Led Zeppelin legal team to go on record that they've never heard of Howlin' Wolf or Robert Johnson. And I'm reminded, for some reason, of the bit of Douglas Adams's where the editors of the Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy copy their entry for "The Universe" off the back of a cereal box and then send the book back through a time warp and successfully sue the cereal company for copyright infringement.
I'm waiting for someone to rework "The Lemon Song," and for the Led Zeppelin legal team to go on record that they've never heard of Howlin' Wolf or Robert Johnson. And I'm reminded, for some reason, of the bit of Douglas Adams's where the editors of the Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy copy their entry for "The Universe" off the back of a cereal box and then send the book back through a time warp and successfully sue the cereal company for copyright infringement.
I'm sure that by now everyone has seen the jibjab Flash animation of George Bush and John Kerry singing "This Land Is My Land." Well, according to No Rock & Roll Fun, its makers are being sued for breach of copyright. This brings up the vexing question: "This Land Is My Land" isn't public domain yet? And the vexing answer: anything younger than Mickey Mouse will always be covered by copyright laws as long as Disney can pay their lawyers. In any case, it's a fair case for sardonicism that every American second-grader's introduction to a socialist disregard for individual property should provide the occasion for a ridiculous overapplication of intellectual property law; and, indeed, Woody Guthrie himself said, back when Mickey Mouse was, oh, my guess is 28 years old, "This song is copyrighted in U.S., under Seal of Copyright #154085, for a period of 28 years, and anybody caught singin it without our permission, will be mighty good friends of ourn, cause we don't give a dern. Publish it. Write it. Sing it. Swing to it. Yodel it. We wrote it, that's all we wanted to do."
I Love the Counterfactual '80s!
Jun. 30th, 2004 06:13 pm![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
nzraya has a flight of fancy on her trip down memory lane:A passing thought...I love counterfactuals. Let's see . . . George H. W. Bush has nearly as much of a first term as John Tyler. Freed from the constraints of Vice Presidential subservience to Reagan, he reverts to his 1980 support of abortion rights and leads the most Arab-friendly administration since Eisenhower's. His retinue of Rockefeller Republicans and foreign-policy realists alienate the Christian Right, which makes overtures to the blue-collar Catholics who had formed the bulk of the "Reagan Democrats" and to socially-conservative African-American Baptists. Pat Robertson leads a new Christian crusade for social justice. A booming economy, buoyed by Bush's moderate fiscal responsibility, propels Bush to a commanding victory over the newly black-friendly George Wallace, but in 1988, his Vice President (Howard Baker) must face a vital young Democrat who is extremely hawkish, pro-Israel, and is second to none in his credentialing as a campaigner for values and decency. In the clash of the Tennessee titans, Al Gore prevails, becoming the youngest President in American history.
...and, I'm sure, a far from original one. But, having spent a fruitful morning going through an old videotape of MTV's 80s-retrospective programming in December 1989 (SO GLAD I taped that stuff, because half of what they put in as most characteristic of the '80s has gone well and truly down the memory hole now), I can't help but ponder, wistfully, the following question:
What if the December 8, 1980 assassination attempt against John Lennon had failed, and the March 30, 1981 assassination attempt against Ronald Reagan had succeeded?
As the years wind down, the Republican party becomes more and more the party of the Northeast, Great Plains and Southwest, while the industrial Midwest and the South define the Democrats. In 2004 the country faces a great drama when the Democrats nominate the ticket of Clinton-Buchanan against the Republicans' favored Rodham-McCain.
Meanwhile, John Lennon's 1984 movie Remember Me To Harold Lloyd is considered the greatest film disaster of the decade. A pair of phoned-in duets with Lionel Richie do not help his critical standing. By 2004, Britain collectively smirks when he makes a guest appearance on the Sugababes' single "Imagine (There's Disco Heaven)," and critics everywhere admit that the recently deceased George Harrison was the true genius of the Beatles.
Lyric puzzles
Jun. 29th, 2004 09:52 pmEver since the meme went around in May, I've regretted not putting up a bunch of lyrics from unidentified songs which readers could then guess. It's fair to say that this has gnawed at my heart. I enjoyed, despite my poor showing, the guessing games posted by lynnmonster and Chad Orzel, but I think my favorite set had to be the one by tahnan. Instead of just posting the words, he created ten separate puzzles from the lyrics. I know a good idea when I see one, and I am shameless enough to steal not only his idea but his puzzle forms as well. Unfortunately, I was able to solve (and, in fact, understand the mechanisms of) only eight of his ten song-puzzles, so I've had to bring in two other (much more complicated) types of puzzles.
So, following the lj-cut, there are ten puzzles, to which the answers are all lyrics from songs which have played on my MP3 player within the last three months. I won't say that the representation of my musical taste is entirely balanced (I do listen to black music made after 1972, for example, and white music made before 1976), but I like all the answers. Whether or not the puzzles are as likeable, I'll leave up to you.
To prevent the game from being ruined in the comments, I'm turning automatic screening on. If you want your answer unscreened, you should use invisotext; for example, if your answer to number twelve were "Spice Up Your Life" you might type:
(The Spice Girls definitely don't feature in this quiz. Shut up.)
And so, without further ado: ( the puzzles . . . )
Enjoy!
ETA: It is traditional in these memes to outlaw Googling, but I figure that if you've done the work of solving the puzzle, you shouldn't get frustrated because you don't recognize the lyric.
Now, Googling to solve the acrostic? That action rests on a moral foundation made of sand.
tahnan. Instead of just posting the words, he created ten separate puzzles from the lyrics. I know a good idea when I see one, and I am shameless enough to steal not only his idea but his puzzle forms as well. Unfortunately, I was able to solve (and, in fact, understand the mechanisms of) only eight of his ten song-puzzles, so I've had to bring in two other (much more complicated) types of puzzles.So, following the lj-cut, there are ten puzzles, to which the answers are all lyrics from songs which have played on my MP3 player within the last three months. I won't say that the representation of my musical taste is entirely balanced (I do listen to black music made after 1972, for example, and white music made before 1976), but I like all the answers. Whether or not the puzzles are as likeable, I'll leave up to you.
To prevent the game from being ruined in the comments, I'm turning automatic screening on. If you want your answer unscreened, you should use invisotext; for example, if your answer to number twelve were "Spice Up Your Life" you might type:
Answer to #12: <font color="white">The Spice Girls, "Spice Up Your Life."</font>Please put each answer in invisotext separately, as different solvers proceed at different speeds.
(The Spice Girls definitely don't feature in this quiz. Shut up.)
And so, without further ado: ( the puzzles . . . )
Enjoy!
ETA: It is traditional in these memes to outlaw Googling, but I figure that if you've done the work of solving the puzzle, you shouldn't get frustrated because you don't recognize the lyric.
Now, Googling to solve the acrostic? That action rests on a moral foundation made of sand.
Tags:
(no subject)
Jun. 21st, 2004 12:05 pmYesterday's Observer Music Monthly attempted a list of the 100 greatest British rock albums which compounded the usual problems of album-centered rock criticism (black artists are penalized for working in single-oriented genres) with the usual problems of British rock (there aren't enough black artists to penalize). My argument that Are You Experienced, recorded in London with a band that was 66.7% English, should count as a British album (in fact as the best British album) fell on deaf ears, since I never actually expressed it to anyone. In any case, I figured that there would be four albums that, due as much to their history of critical acclaim as any inherent quality, had to fall into the top ten: Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, Exile On Main Street, Never Mind The Bollocks, and London Calling. London Calling placed third, Sgt. Pepper's sixth, and Exile eighth. Never Mind The Bollocks, on the other hand, was placed way down at number fourteen, below even Metal Box by Public Image Ltd.
This reminds me that there used to be a joke commonly made on ignorant young pop music fans in the seventies and even into the eighties: "You mean Paul McCartney was in a band before Wings?" This jibe could be transferred into the eighties and nineties with "You mean John Lydon was in a band before PiL?" and into the nineties and today with "You mean Dave Grohl was in a band before Foo Fighters?" It seems to me that we need to prepare for the future, and the obvious thing is for Chuck D. to form an ambitious, poppy, somewhat sterile supergroup so we old-timers who remember It Takes A Nation Of Millions can rib the younguns.
This reminds me that there used to be a joke commonly made on ignorant young pop music fans in the seventies and even into the eighties: "You mean Paul McCartney was in a band before Wings?" This jibe could be transferred into the eighties and nineties with "You mean John Lydon was in a band before PiL?" and into the nineties and today with "You mean Dave Grohl was in a band before Foo Fighters?" It seems to me that we need to prepare for the future, and the obvious thing is for Chuck D. to form an ambitious, poppy, somewhat sterile supergroup so we old-timers who remember It Takes A Nation Of Millions can rib the younguns.
(no subject)
Apr. 26th, 2004 04:40 pmI currently have 4 books and one CD in my Amazon shopping cart, and I was looking at Amazon's blurb for "The Page You Made," when it struck me that the top two items were The Road To Disunion, based on rahael's recommendation, and Donald E. Westlake's new Dortmunder caper, The Road To Ruin. I thought that was an interesting synchronicity, though not powerful enough to make me go crazy or anything. Instead, I will have to overstate the relevance of Nick Montfort's Twisty Little Passages, which, in juxtaposition with the others, suggests that while we may be headed to some bad ends, we're going to take our own sweet time getting there.
The CD is Prince's new Musicology; my unfortunate tendency, if left alone with a word, to pronounce it in an atrocious mock-French accent has led me to wonder about the etymology of ponce. My Oxford Shorter gives the derivation as "perhaps POUNCE," which I find inconclusive. Citations date back to the late 19th Century, when, rumor has it, at least one Prince of Wales was associating with prostitutes. Other princes may have been, for all I know, slightly effeminate. It's a tempting induction, suggesting that ponce might derive from "prince," but folk etymologies are often tempting, and always wrong.
rahael's recommendation, and Donald E. Westlake's new Dortmunder caper, The Road To Ruin. I thought that was an interesting synchronicity, though not powerful enough to make me go crazy or anything. Instead, I will have to overstate the relevance of Nick Montfort's Twisty Little Passages, which, in juxtaposition with the others, suggests that while we may be headed to some bad ends, we're going to take our own sweet time getting there.The CD is Prince's new Musicology; my unfortunate tendency, if left alone with a word, to pronounce it in an atrocious mock-French accent has led me to wonder about the etymology of ponce. My Oxford Shorter gives the derivation as "perhaps POUNCE," which I find inconclusive. Citations date back to the late 19th Century, when, rumor has it, at least one Prince of Wales was associating with prostitutes. Other princes may have been, for all I know, slightly effeminate. It's a tempting induction, suggesting that ponce might derive from "prince," but folk etymologies are often tempting, and always wrong.
I watched (or listened to) most of the halftime show, but must admit that I didn't see Janet Jackson's breast. I just wasn't paying attention. I don't suppose I'll ever have that chance again. Just like the Britney/Madonna/Christina Aguilera kiss, it's gone into the sinkhole of live television, never to be seen.
What's that? I have seventy cable channels? I have CNBC, which will be showing it every five minutes for the next week?
Enh. Watching CNBC makes me itchy.
My basic thoughts during the halftime show went more along the lines of, "Puff Daddy and Nelly are on the same stage and they're not singing 'Shake a Tailfeather'? Don't they understand marketing?"
At this point, I'm all about the Grammys. I had heard that OutKast would be performing a "tribute to funk," but now I have the expectation that Prince and Earth Wind & Fire will show up too.
Oh, and I feel that if a team wins the Superbowl because of a field goal, they should be allowed to accept the Vince Lombardi trophy, but they have to attend the presentation wearing dresses.
What's that? I have seventy cable channels? I have CNBC, which will be showing it every five minutes for the next week?
Enh. Watching CNBC makes me itchy.
My basic thoughts during the halftime show went more along the lines of, "Puff Daddy and Nelly are on the same stage and they're not singing 'Shake a Tailfeather'? Don't they understand marketing?"
At this point, I'm all about the Grammys. I had heard that OutKast would be performing a "tribute to funk," but now I have the expectation that Prince and Earth Wind & Fire will show up too.
Oh, and I feel that if a team wins the Superbowl because of a field goal, they should be allowed to accept the Vince Lombardi trophy, but they have to attend the presentation wearing dresses.
(no subject)
Jan. 13th, 2004 11:56 pmTuesday's mystery numbers are 6:07.
Today's playlist:
"Oliver's Army," Elvis Costello. Definite icon food here, though while I was first thinking of using it to further spread the "Spike represents British colonialism" meme, I'm now leaning towards either a Watchers' Council or an MI-5 image.
"B.O.B.," OutKast. Perhaps it's tainted by its association with a foreign policy that Big Boi has clearly repudiated, but it rocks, and "Don't pull the thang out, unless you plan to manage a large multinational coalition and are prepared for a long period of intensive and sometimes frustrating nation-building" just doesn't scan.
"Come In Out Of The Rain," Parliament.
"Just Like Me," Paul Revere & The Raiders.
"Do You Wanna Get Funky With Me?" Peter Brown. Basement studio one-man-band funk on the cusp of disco.
"Get The Party Started," Pink.
"My Name Is Prince," Prince. For a few months after this was released, it remained true.
"Lipstick," the Buzzcocks. Back during my post-season five Buffy-obsessive period, I had a vision of Dawn bouncing around Spike's crypt to this. Of course, she'd steal the CD.
"You And Your Folks/23rd Psalm," The Blind Boys of Alabama. The old Funkadelic song, intercut with an intonation of the Psalm. It's quite chilling, but would work better had not Funkadelic spent the early '70s interrupting their jams with mock-sermonettes about "Our Father, which art on Wall Street" and "The Good God Big Buck" (in context, a reference to capitalism -- I hadn't considered, until typing this, that there might be another interpretation).
"We Are Neighbors," the Chi-Lites.
"Senorita," Justin Timberlake. Pharrell gets the best lines.
"Grits Ain't Groceries," Little Milton. "If I don't love you, baby, grits ain't groceries, eggs ain't poultry, and Mona Lisa was a man." Symbolic Logic c3451x must have made a deep impression, for I keep feeling the compulsion to deny the consequent. I rather doubt I could get grits in my local Stop 'n' Shop; calling eggs "poultry" would contradict my stance on stem-cell research; and there's at least one sub-Clive Cussler novel on the best seller list that claims that the Mona Lisa is a self-portrait. (That said, I do love you, baby!)
"Mama Said Knock You Out," LL Cool J. This journal's subtitle, at least for the next few days.
Today's playlist:
"Oliver's Army," Elvis Costello. Definite icon food here, though while I was first thinking of using it to further spread the "Spike represents British colonialism" meme, I'm now leaning towards either a Watchers' Council or an MI-5 image.
"B.O.B.," OutKast. Perhaps it's tainted by its association with a foreign policy that Big Boi has clearly repudiated, but it rocks, and "Don't pull the thang out, unless you plan to manage a large multinational coalition and are prepared for a long period of intensive and sometimes frustrating nation-building" just doesn't scan.
"Come In Out Of The Rain," Parliament.
"Just Like Me," Paul Revere & The Raiders.
"Do You Wanna Get Funky With Me?" Peter Brown. Basement studio one-man-band funk on the cusp of disco.
"Get The Party Started," Pink.
"My Name Is Prince," Prince. For a few months after this was released, it remained true.
"Lipstick," the Buzzcocks. Back during my post-season five Buffy-obsessive period, I had a vision of Dawn bouncing around Spike's crypt to this. Of course, she'd steal the CD.
"You And Your Folks/23rd Psalm," The Blind Boys of Alabama. The old Funkadelic song, intercut with an intonation of the Psalm. It's quite chilling, but would work better had not Funkadelic spent the early '70s interrupting their jams with mock-sermonettes about "Our Father, which art on Wall Street" and "The Good God Big Buck" (in context, a reference to capitalism -- I hadn't considered, until typing this, that there might be another interpretation).
"We Are Neighbors," the Chi-Lites.
"Senorita," Justin Timberlake. Pharrell gets the best lines.
"Grits Ain't Groceries," Little Milton. "If I don't love you, baby, grits ain't groceries, eggs ain't poultry, and Mona Lisa was a man." Symbolic Logic c3451x must have made a deep impression, for I keep feeling the compulsion to deny the consequent. I rather doubt I could get grits in my local Stop 'n' Shop; calling eggs "poultry" would contradict my stance on stem-cell research; and there's at least one sub-Clive Cussler novel on the best seller list that claims that the Mona Lisa is a self-portrait. (That said, I do love you, baby!)
"Mama Said Knock You Out," LL Cool J. This journal's subtitle, at least for the next few days.
Tags:
The Rolling Stone top 500 albums
Dec. 4th, 2003 06:10 pmComfort food is making me uncomfortable. I rationalized the economy of my P. F. Chang's trip with the idea that I could stretch out my order of Kung Pao Chicken and Spicy Eggplant over several meals, and then proceeded to eat the entire thing.
It is my understanding that there exist, along with comfort food, comfort magazines, so I bought a couple. I got the new WIRED, for reasons that may later become apparent, and, inspired by the example ofhermionesviolin, the current Rolling Stone. This is the Rolling Stone which contains its list of the 500 "Greatest Albums Ever Made." Hmmm. It seems like just six years ago that they were prying my money from my fingers for their list of the 200 "Greatest Albums Ever Made." I'm not buying another issue until they come out with the 10,000 greatest. Take that, exponential progression!
Perhaps because I've had the earlier list as a subconscious influence since 1997, I own a higher percentage (54 out of 200, compared to 87 of 500) of what was then the "definitive library of the best albums ever made). My suspicion is that the earlier list was actually superior (and thus, my tastes are actually superior). It was chosen by a smaller panel with more of an eye towards history, and thus contains selections by Ruth Brown and LaVern Baker. On the other hand, the later list has a lot more jazz on it (a surprising amount of which I own -- not that I listen to it -- not that the panelists listen to it either). The earlier list also has the advantage of being arranged chronologically instead of in some supposed order of quality, which prevents us from being consumed with inanities such as "Hotel California is only number thirty-seven? Damn it, that's a top thirty-five album in my book!" It also provides the benefit of disguising the Beatles fetishization by slotting the copious amounts of their records into their proper slot -- the 1960s -- rather than into nearly half of the top ten.
Anyway, what follows is the list of the albums from the new list which I own. Most of these I have on CD, some I bought back when I was primarily a casette consumer and have not updated since I got my first CD player in 1990 (make of that what you will), and a couple I only have because I ripped my girlfriend's CDs onto my MP3 player. I have not included tapes I made of CDs my high school friends had, mostly as a discriminatory measure designed to keep Pink Floyd off the list. I was a bit confused with how to count some of the anthologies: for example, I do not actually own Sly & the Family Stone's Greatest Hits, but I own Anthology, which contains all of Greatest Hits plus tracks off of there's a riot goin' on and Fresh. However, I have not checked whether or not the anthologies of Otis Redding, Sam Cooke, Howlin' Wolf and others correspond to what I have in any way.
( 87/500 )
I suppose one could compare the above to the full list, then cross-reference with my preferences stated both in my user info and my response toshadowkat67's meme and come up with a reasonable approximation of an Amazon Wish List. And with the holidays just around the corner. Of course, on any list of the 500 things I need most, 413 albums have to come pretty low.
It is my understanding that there exist, along with comfort food, comfort magazines, so I bought a couple. I got the new WIRED, for reasons that may later become apparent, and, inspired by the example of
hermionesviolin, the current Rolling Stone. This is the Rolling Stone which contains its list of the 500 "Greatest Albums Ever Made." Hmmm. It seems like just six years ago that they were prying my money from my fingers for their list of the 200 "Greatest Albums Ever Made." I'm not buying another issue until they come out with the 10,000 greatest. Take that, exponential progression!Perhaps because I've had the earlier list as a subconscious influence since 1997, I own a higher percentage (54 out of 200, compared to 87 of 500) of what was then the "definitive library of the best albums ever made). My suspicion is that the earlier list was actually superior (and thus, my tastes are actually superior). It was chosen by a smaller panel with more of an eye towards history, and thus contains selections by Ruth Brown and LaVern Baker. On the other hand, the later list has a lot more jazz on it (a surprising amount of which I own -- not that I listen to it -- not that the panelists listen to it either). The earlier list also has the advantage of being arranged chronologically instead of in some supposed order of quality, which prevents us from being consumed with inanities such as "Hotel California is only number thirty-seven? Damn it, that's a top thirty-five album in my book!" It also provides the benefit of disguising the Beatles fetishization by slotting the copious amounts of their records into their proper slot -- the 1960s -- rather than into nearly half of the top ten.
Anyway, what follows is the list of the albums from the new list which I own. Most of these I have on CD, some I bought back when I was primarily a casette consumer and have not updated since I got my first CD player in 1990 (make of that what you will), and a couple I only have because I ripped my girlfriend's CDs onto my MP3 player. I have not included tapes I made of CDs my high school friends had, mostly as a discriminatory measure designed to keep Pink Floyd off the list. I was a bit confused with how to count some of the anthologies: for example, I do not actually own Sly & the Family Stone's Greatest Hits, but I own Anthology, which contains all of Greatest Hits plus tracks off of there's a riot goin' on and Fresh. However, I have not checked whether or not the anthologies of Otis Redding, Sam Cooke, Howlin' Wolf and others correspond to what I have in any way.
( 87/500 )
I suppose one could compare the above to the full list, then cross-reference with my preferences stated both in my user info and my response to
shadowkat67's meme and come up with a reasonable approximation of an Amazon Wish List. And with the holidays just around the corner. Of course, on any list of the 500 things I need most, 413 albums have to come pretty low.(no subject)
Dec. 3rd, 2003 07:51 pmFrom shadowkat67, a meme.
1. Name 10 favorite actors you'd see in anything:
2. Name 10 favorite actresses you'd see in anything:
3. Name 10 TV shows you'd love to have the complete episodes on DVD:
4. Name 10 Films you'd love to have on DVD:
shadowkat67, a meme.1. Name 10 favorite actors you'd see in anything:
- Cary Grant ( 9 more )
2. Name 10 favorite actresses you'd see in anything:
- Katherine Hepburn ( 9 more )
3. Name 10 TV shows you'd love to have the complete episodes on DVD:
- Hill Street Blues ( 9 more )
4. Name 10 Films you'd love to have on DVD:
- Casablanca ( 9 more )
- Crosstown Traffic, by Charles Shaar Murray ( 9 more )
- "Que Sera, Sera," Sly and the Family Stone ( 9 more )
- Prince ( 9 more )
- The Taj Mahal ( 9 more )
(no subject)
Nov. 12th, 2003 02:19 amI have promised myself that I will write a real, substantial, LJ entry before Friday. It will pull no punches and speak truth to power. It will change your life, give you renewed purpose, and blow the lid off the military-hiphopdustrial complex.
In the meantime, please excuse the following blather.
Item the first: should I ever be in the mood to scare my cats, I now know exactly what to do. I just need to get them on edge by carting them off to the vets for some yearly boosters, then bring them home, let them get snug and warm and comfortable, almost to the point where they trust me again, then slip on my headphones and dance (if one can call a semi-epileptic crossbreed between the Watusi and a torn anterior cruciate ligament "dancing") around the kitchen to O{+>'s "Billy Jack Bitch."
Item the second: it crosses my mind that I'd like to see whether or not my spawn, my scion, the sole heir to all my worldly widely webly possessions,atpotch will be able to get down to London around the weekend of the 22nd. I assume that my meeting londonkds and yabyumpan is, as we say in O{+> speak, a 4gone conclusion. But I would be willing to expend an especial effort to meet the one I sired; though, obviously, it would be all the more convenient if I could get him to be the one who goes through all the hassle of UK travel.
Item the third: it's amazing how a not-that-flattering picture can, with the judicious application of just a little Photoshopping, be turned into an absolute nightmare of blotchiness and bignosiness. Errr, I mean, GIP.
In the meantime, please excuse the following blather.
Item the first: should I ever be in the mood to scare my cats, I now know exactly what to do. I just need to get them on edge by carting them off to the vets for some yearly boosters, then bring them home, let them get snug and warm and comfortable, almost to the point where they trust me again, then slip on my headphones and dance (if one can call a semi-epileptic crossbreed between the Watusi and a torn anterior cruciate ligament "dancing") around the kitchen to O{+>'s "Billy Jack Bitch."
Item the second: it crosses my mind that I'd like to see whether or not my spawn, my scion, the sole heir to all my worldly widely webly possessions,
atpotch will be able to get down to London around the weekend of the 22nd. I assume that my meeting londonkds and yabyumpan is, as we say in O{+> speak, a 4gone conclusion. But I would be willing to expend an especial effort to meet the one I sired; though, obviously, it would be all the more convenient if I could get him to be the one who goes through all the hassle of UK travel.Item the third: it's amazing how a not-that-flattering picture can, with the judicious application of just a little Photoshopping, be turned into an absolute nightmare of blotchiness and bignosiness. Errr, I mean, GIP.
(no subject)
Aug. 1st, 2003 02:38 amI don't care what any damn quiz says; I'm "That's one spunky little girl you've raised. I'm gonna eat her."
Actually, the above quiz did contain one interesting self-revelation. After I puzzled over which music genre to pick as my favorite (bluesy eclectic post-psychedelic proto-funk not being on the list), I got to the question "how would YOU describe yourself?" I immediately selected "Powerful, intense, and all around fuckin' awesome." Then I thought about it a little and chose "Not that great. You're not even sure why people hang out with you." Then I switched back. Then I decided that I could be considered, "honest, upbeat, and bright"; some even consider me "romantic, loyal, and loving" or even, just possibly, "strong, determined, and capable."
Of course, it's no surprise that I would contain all these multitudes: I am all around fuckin' awesome! I don't know what you people could possibly get out of reading this.
Actually, the above quiz did contain one interesting self-revelation. After I puzzled over which music genre to pick as my favorite (bluesy eclectic post-psychedelic proto-funk not being on the list), I got to the question "how would YOU describe yourself?" I immediately selected "Powerful, intense, and all around fuckin' awesome." Then I thought about it a little and chose "Not that great. You're not even sure why people hang out with you." Then I switched back. Then I decided that I could be considered, "honest, upbeat, and bright"; some even consider me "romantic, loyal, and loving" or even, just possibly, "strong, determined, and capable."
Of course, it's no surprise that I would contain all these multitudes: I am all around fuckin' awesome! I don't know what you people could possibly get out of reading this.
(no subject)
Jul. 10th, 2003 01:22 pmFrom The Minor Fall, The Major Lift, a link to an article about study by University of Texas psychologists matching pop-music preferences to personality traits. Being that I own more music than personality, this is a lot more interesting to me than Enneagrams. Here are the examples they give:
This is remarkably accurate.
Also from the article, an explanation of why we like the music we do: "One possibility is that people choose a tempo of music that is consistent with the heart rate that characterises their current or desired mood." This scares me, because I tend to favor densely polyrhythmic musics such as funk and zydeco, or music with too fast a beat, such as punk; my desired mood seems to be an early death from cardiac arhyhthmia.
Bob DylanWell now. I only own the Beethoven, Stones, Barry White and Harold Melvin, though I own other works by Dylan and REM, but I have to say I like everything on this except the J.Lo (which I can't remember even just to hum), and honestly don't prefer one to another. So I'll assume that I'm the opposite of the J.Lo characteristics: I'm unconventional, downbeat, cheerless, introverted, unreliable, completely uninterested in helping other people, and see myself as some sort of slimy-antlered Chaos Demon.
Blowin' in the Wind: Inventive, solid, open to new experiences, consider themselves to be intelligent, good conversationalists, but not too clever at maths or analytical stuff. Politically liberal, but not very sporty. Unlikely to be depressed.
Beethoven
Ode to Joy: Active imagination, values aesthetic experiences, inventive, tolerant of others, consider themselves to be intelligent, and reject conservative ideals. Least likely to say something without thinking first.
Rolling Stones
Brown Sugar: Agreeable, open to new experiences, athletic, intelligent, with good verbal skills, and tend to be dominant in interpersonal relationships.
REM
It's the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine): Not neurotic, curious about different things. Enjoy taking risks, physically active and intelligent. May be prone to depression.
Jennifer Lopez
I'm Real: Conventional, upbeat, cheerful, socially outgoing, reliable, enjoy helping others, and see themselves as physically attractive.
Barry White
Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe: A tendency to be talkative and full of energy. They are also forgiving, and have a strong dislike of conservatism.
Harold Melvin and The Bluenotes
If You Don't Know Me By Now: Extrovert, agreeable, also flirtatious with a tendency to express their feelings straight away. Liberal and athletic, and on the whole think of themselves as pretty attractive.
This is remarkably accurate.
Also from the article, an explanation of why we like the music we do: "One possibility is that people choose a tempo of music that is consistent with the heart rate that characterises their current or desired mood." This scares me, because I tend to favor densely polyrhythmic musics such as funk and zydeco, or music with too fast a beat, such as punk; my desired mood seems to be an early death from cardiac arhyhthmia.
Fourth of July checklist
Jul. 6th, 2003 04:02 pm1) Saw X-Men 2. ( Spoilers for "X-Men 2" )
2) Saw fireworks. ( Spoilers for 2003 Shaker Heights fireworks show )
3) Did not see relatives. Yay!
4) Did not see scroll. Damn.
5) Finished Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. ( Thoughts on Harry Potter series )
6) Did not watch 1776. Did, however, listen to the Original Cast Album twice. ( Thought on listening to "1776" while driving through Euclid Creek Reservation )
2) Saw fireworks. ( Spoilers for 2003 Shaker Heights fireworks show )
3) Did not see relatives. Yay!
4) Did not see scroll. Damn.
5) Finished Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. ( Thoughts on Harry Potter series )
6) Did not watch 1776. Did, however, listen to the Original Cast Album twice. ( Thought on listening to "1776" while driving through Euclid Creek Reservation )
Total destruction to your mind!
May. 7th, 2003 04:16 pmI've been begatten, or begot, or something. Thanks, Masq! It only took a little grovelling . . . I grovel so well.
I'm not quite sure what this will turn out to be: it may turn out that LiveJournal is not the place for someone who deals with as much writer's block as I do. This may turn out more bloggish than LJ; most of my online reading is in the blogosphere rather than in LiveJournals. Someone once commented that blogs tend to be a male domain while LJ tends to be dominated by women. Of course, someone else tried to make a sociobiological point about this: men "hunt" links, while women "gather" together into communities. Of course, there are plenty of female bloggers (though I only have one bookmarked; my favorites folder is as disturbingly sexually segregated as my CD collection). There are probably lots of male LJers too -- I just don't know any. (In any case, I reject simplistic notions of sociobiology, such as the straw man [my straw is pretty sexually segregated too] I set up a few sentences above. Yes, I strongly oppose the caricatures of arguments I draw myself!)
I should talk about "Touched," being somewhat known as someone who talks about Buffy (the Rosicrucians cited me! take that Ded!), but I have yet to figure out the cut-tag, so no spoilers yet. All in all though, I was pretty underwhelmed. "Underwhelmed" has been my Buffy-theme since "Smashed." Over on ATPo there's a kerfluffle over whether Angel or Spike is Buffy's true love. (I'm considering reviving my saga of the Sha'i-Pir Wars.) At this point, the only relationship I really want to see Buffy indulge in is with a large bottle of Prozac.
After reading about it in The Major Lift, The Minor Fall, I had to go out and get the Oxford American Annual Southern Music Issue. I already have the Swamp Dogg (but you don't, and you should), but I didn't have Little Milton's version of "Grits Ain't Groceries," which rocks righteous! Plus, the Blind Boys of Alabama! Esther Phillips! R.L. Burnside! A bunch of people I've never heard of! A whole bunch of great blues, rockabilly, soul, gospel and hillbilly at that point where they all come together and genre (color?) doesn't mean a damn. The Marilyn Monroe/Jane Russell track from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes seems a bit out of place, but what do you want to betrahael loves it?
In other music news, cjl demands that we all go buy the new reissue of Live At Leeds. I (for once in my life) am showing sales resistance. I've already bought the damn thing twice: first, in its original six-track configuration (which the AMG claims runs for 19:14 -- if they're correct it may be the shortest major album ever released); second, in its 1995 18-track configuration. I just don't see much reason to buy it a third time; I don't even like The Who that much anymore, and I think endlessly mutating permutations of Live at Leeds may be part of the reason.
Anyway, welcome to my nightmare. Hope you enjoy it!
I'm not quite sure what this will turn out to be: it may turn out that LiveJournal is not the place for someone who deals with as much writer's block as I do. This may turn out more bloggish than LJ; most of my online reading is in the blogosphere rather than in LiveJournals. Someone once commented that blogs tend to be a male domain while LJ tends to be dominated by women. Of course, someone else tried to make a sociobiological point about this: men "hunt" links, while women "gather" together into communities. Of course, there are plenty of female bloggers (though I only have one bookmarked; my favorites folder is as disturbingly sexually segregated as my CD collection). There are probably lots of male LJers too -- I just don't know any. (In any case, I reject simplistic notions of sociobiology, such as the straw man [my straw is pretty sexually segregated too] I set up a few sentences above. Yes, I strongly oppose the caricatures of arguments I draw myself!)
I should talk about "Touched," being somewhat known as someone who talks about Buffy (the Rosicrucians cited me! take that Ded!), but I have yet to figure out the cut-tag, so no spoilers yet. All in all though, I was pretty underwhelmed. "Underwhelmed" has been my Buffy-theme since "Smashed." Over on ATPo there's a kerfluffle over whether Angel or Spike is Buffy's true love. (I'm considering reviving my saga of the Sha'i-Pir Wars.) At this point, the only relationship I really want to see Buffy indulge in is with a large bottle of Prozac.
After reading about it in The Major Lift, The Minor Fall, I had to go out and get the Oxford American Annual Southern Music Issue. I already have the Swamp Dogg (but you don't, and you should), but I didn't have Little Milton's version of "Grits Ain't Groceries," which rocks righteous! Plus, the Blind Boys of Alabama! Esther Phillips! R.L. Burnside! A bunch of people I've never heard of! A whole bunch of great blues, rockabilly, soul, gospel and hillbilly at that point where they all come together and genre (color?) doesn't mean a damn. The Marilyn Monroe/Jane Russell track from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes seems a bit out of place, but what do you want to bet
rahael loves it?In other music news, cjl demands that we all go buy the new reissue of Live At Leeds. I (for once in my life) am showing sales resistance. I've already bought the damn thing twice: first, in its original six-track configuration (which the AMG claims runs for 19:14 -- if they're correct it may be the shortest major album ever released); second, in its 1995 18-track configuration. I just don't see much reason to buy it a third time; I don't even like The Who that much anymore, and I think endlessly mutating permutations of Live at Leeds may be part of the reason.
Anyway, welcome to my nightmare. Hope you enjoy it!
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