Really, when you get down to it, I probably have no business even bothering. I mean, what can I say that probably hasn't been pointed out by one person or another ad nauseum for the the media blitz that surrounded Michael Jackson's death before he was even declared such a week ago? With news interviews, tabloid headlines, rumours around TMZ, and the blogosphere practically choking to death on the matter, what really is there for me to add?
Maybe that's fitting the situation around Michael Jackson's life and death in so many ways. If nothing else, when it came to the subject of Michael Jackson, it was a collection of ambivalent and contradictory sentiments, so my trepidation about even offering my thoughts...well, that fits the bill pretty fairly, doesn't it?
The reason you always wondered exactly how you should think of MJ is because he offered you so many complicated aspects to try to hash out. Jackson was nothing if not a complicated subject. It's probably why he was such a media magnet, especially for tabloid journalism. Because when someone collects such a mish-mash of feelings, you can spend page after page, minute by minute, trying to hash out just what you think you're supposed to think about the guy. His death proves the point.
You have Michael the tortured soul, Michael the icon, Michael the genius, Michael the weirdo eccentric, Michael the potential criminal. And you often have it all at once. From a cultural standpoint, he was impossible to ignore, even when he really wasn't doing anything. Michael the musician really hadn't been around for more than a decade, but his body of work really stands as one of the most monolithic in pop music and pop culture. His studio work, his live performances, his video collection; that stuph can't be overlooked. It's importance can't be overlooked. I wanted to twenty-odd years ago, being a staunch devotee to the importance of "real" music (which really meant something that skirted the pop zeitgeist more than Jackson ever would or could). But Jackson's work is really insurmountable. In retrospect, he really was the first truly world-wide pop phenomenon. Some could argue once about Elvis or the Beatles, but really, their saturation didn't extend beyond the Western world. Jackson on the other hand, pervaded the consciousness on a global scale. From Japan, China, Australia, Eastern Europe, Western Europe the Americas and Africa, probably even the middle east, there isn't anyone who didn't know who Michael Jackson was, or his body of work if even on a minimal scale.
Whether you liked his music all that much or not, probably each one hasn't lived through some moment where you found yourself humming the chorus to "Beat It". If you havn't, you've probably been living up in the mountains somewhere for the last thrity years (and you're definitely not reading this). I personally can't hear a song from Off the Wall without feeling seven years old again, and I mean that in a good way.
The fact that his unmitigated importance as an artist was so completely mitigated by his personal life makes remembering Michael Jackson all the more conflicting. He's not the first of that kind, but he may be the most extravagant example. As Jackson's professional career seemed to wane, his private peccadilloes took root in the mind more and more deeply, until you couldn't ignore the fact that this must be a bona fide whack-job.
How much of those eccentricities were legit or the result of just endless rumour mongering; that’s the real pain in the ass of the situation, isn’t it? We were always pretty sure his kids weren’t biologically his at all, but nobody would ever confirm. We always had our ideas about his finances in shambles, but it was always denied. Bubbles the chimp, the plastic surgery, the Elephant Man’s bones—this was and endless carnival.
No, I’m not forgetting the notions of child molestation. That’s a macguffin all its own, though. For years, I’ve vacillated on the topic of whether or not Michael Jackson was a pedophile. A lot of folx, upon hearing of Jackson’s demise filled cyberspace with either “oh, what a tragedy,” and “motherfucker didn’t die soon enuph!” Both have their place in our conscience, because, once again, we don’t (and probably won’t ever) really know the truth of that scenario. The fact of the matter is, a lot of what he did was the type of behaviour often seen in pedophiles. Filling his world and his activities with things to make children feel comfortable about and around you. The whole “drink some wine / don’t worry it’s Jesus Juice” thing was a really spooky example we took to offer possibility of sexual predation.
But the problem was, there was always a big “On the Other Hand” with the guy. A real pain in the ass one. What probably can’t be disputed is that Jackson had one seriously screwed up childhood, if it can be said he had much of a childhood at all. There isn’t a lot of denial on the subject that Michael’s father Joseph Jackson was an abusive son of a bitch. Enough of the Jackson children seem to be able to back up Michael’s allegations on that topic. That in itself can push you either way on the argument though. Childhood victims of abuse often turn around and become abusers. Some have argued that matter on the case of Jackson. But those who predate sexually have usually been the victim of such behaviour earlier in life. While Joe Jackson’s abusive activity hasn’t been argued with much, none have ever steered those allegations toward him being an abuser along sexual lines. His was more the haranguing, beating, strip you of your sense of self worth type of abuse.
What you see throughout Michael’s life, is in a sense a result of that kind of abuse. Micahel was a self-hater, always struggling with his self-image, his looks, his personality. He was insular and withdrawn, likely didn’t understand how and where the lines of childhood innocence and adulthood (always represented in his mind possibly as nothing short of monstrosity) were blurred or delineated. What it seems we had with Jackson was a grown man who wanted nothing more to retreat into an idealized framework of perpetual childhood. In some ways, he sought to construct a fantasy of childhood joy and innocence that he never really experienced or understood. That confusion only resulted in an even more confused and out of touch adulthood, perhaps incapable of genuine adult relationships. His solution: retreat even further. Insulate himself into the behaviour of a child even more. It was often given as a telling example the fact that Jackson named his home the Neverland Ranch, where Peter Pan and his Lost Boys never had to grow up.
Back in ’91, Jackson had befriended Macaulay Culkin, a child phenom in his own right. Looking back, it makes such perfect sense. Here was a kid who could probably really understand Michael. Both were thrust early in life into the cultural spotlight, both inherently robbed of their childhoods. Both had overbearing fathers responsible for robbing them of their innocence, if not robbing them of other things. Interesting to note, Culkin was one to step forward in later years to say he didn’t think Jackson was a pedophile (or at least, he never witnessed such behaviour during the time they had been friends).
It would also properly describe his apparent constant desire to defend children and children’s causes, in spite of the fact that so much of the world had so many misgivings about what his real motivations were.
In the end though, like so much…we just don’t know. We likely never will. The same could be the case of his death. His death from cardiac arrest at the age of 50 isn’t unheard of, especially if he had been struggling with health beforehand. Talk has been rampant that, in spite of his preparations for the 50 date string of performances in London, his health was a wreck. Much has been alleged about his addiction to pain killers: how pervasive had his addiction been, if it was something he still struggled with, etc.
The fact of the matter, again, is we don’t really know—at least for the time being. Even if he had largely overcome his addiction to prescription pain killers, the one thing I’ve learned over the years, especially from following the lives and deaths of numerous pro wrestlers, is that it can truly fuck your body up for years afterward. Heart conditions are not abnormal effects of years of such abuse, even if now in recovery.
So there it is, a conundrum of conflicting thoughts. The cynic in me tells me to just say “Well, glad that life is over with, since he hasn’t done anything creative in years, so at least the tabloid fodder can end.” The sentimental side of me says farewell to an icon that truly permeated the global mindset over the last thirty years, and that’s just a little bit like losing part of my own childhood, in a sense. The empathetic side mourns for a genuinely fucked up human being, who conquered the world in one sense, while all the while perhaps lived as a very vulnerable, self-loathing little boy, who just wanted to find love, but never really had a healthy sense of knowing how to find it.
But then, I may have no business even bringing it all up.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Oh, The Adventures of Adulthood
If you’re planning to take a trip to see Adventureland because you figure it’s another installment of Superbad or something, you’ll probably wind up scratching your head. This film is most definitely not teenage hi-jinks and sexual promiscuity in the beer-soaked warmth of the local amusement park. In fact, it’s (almost) anything but.
Jesse Eisenberg plays a young man, recently graduated from Oberlin College in 1987 with a fairly useless degree (Comparative Literature), whose plans for the great wide open involve the so-called “life-changing” sojourn to Europe, and grad school in NYC at Columbia, where he can begin his quest in journalism.
His real-life parents soon get in the way. Money isn’t quite as fluid as once was, and that means he’s going to have to skip Europe, and find summer work back home in Pittsburgh to try to pay for Columbia. His lack of previous employment, and his obvious shitty degree wind him up as a games counter carney at the local amusement park, Adventureland.
Like I said, if you think rampant silly hi-jinks are supposed to spring from this, that doesn’t really happen. Written and directed by Greg Mottola, this is a funny film, but it’s not a laugh-until-you-sweat film about nonsense (or even non-nonsense, really). Instead, it’s a considerably more substantive movie about the travails of waking up to the realities of grown-up life. There’s partying, cavorting, and jokes about such activity (because, yes, after you’ve lived through that shit some, there’s an absurd humour to that stuph), but it’s colored with the twenty-something awakening to the knowledge that they’ll be some consequences the next day (because after you‘ve lived some, there‘s that revelation too). And there’s promiscuity, yes, as well, but with all the hiccups, pain, confusion and emotional pitfalls that inevitably come with in the real-world of love and sex (and to be honest, with all the attempts to hook up going on in the film, not a lot actually winds up happening--but that‘s 1987 for ya, after all).
The movie is studded with an assortment of somewhat “Apatowian” array of burnouts, boneheads and weirdos (I still wish we could get our boy Martin Starr from his days in Freaks and Geeks some bigger and more important roles), along with so-called sex-pots, studs and heroes, but the intriguing thing is that none of the characters very neatly fall into their respective archetypes at all, and while some likeable folx wind up completely unsympathetic, there’s a definite hint in the script that the characters with more damage have more to offer to the rest of the cast. I don’t know if I can get behind that sentiment so thoroughly as its producers, but at least the film isn’t offering a two-dimensional portrait of these people.
And that may be the film’s great strength; the fact that it’s one of the most genuine and honest portrayals of young adulthood that I’ve come across in a while, both in its wanton desire to pursue excess, and in its confused and embittered realization to what’s really in store for us as adulthood creeps up. The last film to be so gratuitously honest about the subject was probably Waiting (and while that film had plenty of flaws, and is generally regarded as just lo-brow smuggling of tasteless humour into as many scenes as it can, it is actually an astonishingly realistic portrayal of life inside the food service industry, and the people who populate said landscape). You won’t fine yourself falling all over yourself with Adventureland, but if you’ve lived past its characters age, you smile and nod knowingly, and if you’re hitting that age, you’ll have something to think about…at least until the next pot cookie hits your plate.
If you’re planning to take a trip to see Adventureland because you figure it’s another installment of Superbad or something, you’ll probably wind up scratching your head. This film is most definitely not teenage hi-jinks and sexual promiscuity in the beer-soaked warmth of the local amusement park. In fact, it’s (almost) anything but.
Jesse Eisenberg plays a young man, recently graduated from Oberlin College in 1987 with a fairly useless degree (Comparative Literature), whose plans for the great wide open involve the so-called “life-changing” sojourn to Europe, and grad school in NYC at Columbia, where he can begin his quest in journalism.
His real-life parents soon get in the way. Money isn’t quite as fluid as once was, and that means he’s going to have to skip Europe, and find summer work back home in Pittsburgh to try to pay for Columbia. His lack of previous employment, and his obvious shitty degree wind him up as a games counter carney at the local amusement park, Adventureland.
Like I said, if you think rampant silly hi-jinks are supposed to spring from this, that doesn’t really happen. Written and directed by Greg Mottola, this is a funny film, but it’s not a laugh-until-you-sweat film about nonsense (or even non-nonsense, really). Instead, it’s a considerably more substantive movie about the travails of waking up to the realities of grown-up life. There’s partying, cavorting, and jokes about such activity (because, yes, after you’ve lived through that shit some, there’s an absurd humour to that stuph), but it’s colored with the twenty-something awakening to the knowledge that they’ll be some consequences the next day (because after you‘ve lived some, there‘s that revelation too). And there’s promiscuity, yes, as well, but with all the hiccups, pain, confusion and emotional pitfalls that inevitably come with in the real-world of love and sex (and to be honest, with all the attempts to hook up going on in the film, not a lot actually winds up happening--but that‘s 1987 for ya, after all).
The movie is studded with an assortment of somewhat “Apatowian” array of burnouts, boneheads and weirdos (I still wish we could get our boy Martin Starr from his days in Freaks and Geeks some bigger and more important roles), along with so-called sex-pots, studs and heroes, but the intriguing thing is that none of the characters very neatly fall into their respective archetypes at all, and while some likeable folx wind up completely unsympathetic, there’s a definite hint in the script that the characters with more damage have more to offer to the rest of the cast. I don’t know if I can get behind that sentiment so thoroughly as its producers, but at least the film isn’t offering a two-dimensional portrait of these people.
And that may be the film’s great strength; the fact that it’s one of the most genuine and honest portrayals of young adulthood that I’ve come across in a while, both in its wanton desire to pursue excess, and in its confused and embittered realization to what’s really in store for us as adulthood creeps up. The last film to be so gratuitously honest about the subject was probably Waiting (and while that film had plenty of flaws, and is generally regarded as just lo-brow smuggling of tasteless humour into as many scenes as it can, it is actually an astonishingly realistic portrayal of life inside the food service industry, and the people who populate said landscape). You won’t fine yourself falling all over yourself with Adventureland, but if you’ve lived past its characters age, you smile and nod knowingly, and if you’re hitting that age, you’ll have something to think about…at least until the next pot cookie hits your plate.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
The Honourable Mentions
As some of you who have read the Endies before may already know, every year we feel compelled to list a certain number of what we call “Honourable Mentions” for those people, places and things meriting recognition, even if they didn’t necessarily win, or even fit into a certain given category. Below is are esteemed list of what we feel deserves credit for the year 2008.
Lombardo’s Restaurant on Hertel Ave. in Buffalo is probably the best restaurant we visited in the last year. It’s a low-key, very Tuscan-style Italian restaurant (imho), with really, really good food. To quote The Godfather, “Try the veal, it’s the best in the city.” While it’s considered political-correct-de rigeur to naysay veal consumption, one bite of my dinner here, and the first words that came out of my mouth was “We need to kill more baby cows.” The prices are a bit expensive, but you get it all in the food, and then some. Highly recommended, otherwise, I would be bothering to put it on this list.
Since it didn’t fall under the strictures of the my selection rules to obtain the prize for “Page Turner of the Year” (it wasn’t procured, started and finished within 2008, as the rules dictate), I wasn’t able to select The Kings of New York, by __ , otherwise, it would have been a very strong contender. A non-fiction account of a Brooklyn chess team, filled with street savvy minority students who spend as much time hustling at cards and on-line poker as they do hustling and competing at chess (and a whole lot of prodigal Russian immigrants to boot), the book chronicles their year as they approach the national level high school championships. Along the way, __ covers the passion, turmoil and obsession of the “Game of Kings”, to say nothing of the life of New York High School students and teachers who gamely attempt to navigate the game the same as they do life.
In movies, everyone went ga ga over The Dark Knight. I can’t say that I blame them. Even though it didn’t ultimately get my pick for Movie of the Year, this is yet another example of a film building on it franchise, rather than trying to eek money from its shadow. As I mentioned in my main Endies piece, a lot of folx made note of the swan song performance of Heath Ledger (and let’s be honest--it is really fuckin’ good, after all). The fact of the matter is, as long as Chris Nolan and Christian Bale want to keep making Batman movies, this franchise will likely be a-okay for a while.
On the television front, I have to spend one more year showing love to the soon-departing ER. Granted, many have assumed (mostly correctly) that the show has jumped the shark years ago, but for a show who’s best days have past, this is still a surprisingly fantastic show. It wraps up a few weeks from now, after a rather lengthy stint on the air (I was still in college when this show got started--that’s like a lifetime ago!). I’m happy to have gotten a few run-ins resurrecting our fabled ER Drinking Game in the process this year, even if my long-running drinking character Abbie left the show early this season.
Speaking of drinking, let’s cover our favourite spirits and beverages for 2008. As you know, cocktails and drinks is a favourite subject (and pastime) of mine. I especially like giving a work out of the ol’ stainless steel shaker when I can. So first up, let’s give it up for True Daiquiris. By “True” we mean NOT the absurd blender cranked fruity flavored nonsense that most people think of. A True Daiquiri involves little more than rum, simple syrup and lots and lots of lime juice. It’s potent, to be sure, but a serious contender to get your drink in hot weather.
We’d also give our props to Bombay Saffire Martinis (yes, I’m one of the 1% of the entire human population who can drink a gin martini), Kentucky Bourbon (particularly Maker’s Mark), and Flying Bison beers. The Bison is a local brewery, run by former Loughran’s bartender Timmy Herzog, and while we love giving props to folx we’ve known, it goes without saying that the Bison produces excellent beer. Let me stress that: excellent…beer.
One of the places you can get that excellent beer is at the Snyder Bar and Grill. Formerly The First Place, the establishment we once referred to as our “auxiliary offices” here at Dreaming Life, TFP owner Glen Schunk decided to turn over the reigns to bartender Mary Beth Saraceno last spring, and, following some minor makeovers on the place and the menu, the Bar and Grill was born. We’re mostly happy with the changes--minus the change in French fries, mind you--and we’re glad that business is still cranking in spite of our obvious economic travails.
Other establishments we’d like to mention are Starbuck’s on Main St. in Williamsville, and Spot Coffee on Delaware. Spot is particularly excellent for people watching on Saturdays with my girlfriend. In spite of the fact that Starbuck’s is a confounded nationally saturated chain, the Williamsville one is still the place I can get some serious reading done (to say nothing of homework -- I’m writing this very paragraph there this moment). If you live in the South Buffalo area, I’d also recommend the Caz Coffee Cafe on Abbott Road. It’s mellow and friendly, and the staff are seriously good peeps.
In Radio programming, we need to give thumbs up to The Break Room on Rochester’s WCMF mornings. Legendary radio personality Brother Wease left the station behind in early ‘08 over contract disputes, with the rest of his on-air team left behind to try to make a go of it. Not surprising to me (since I remember how well this cast did with Wease out of commission a few years ago undergoing cancer treatment), what became The Break Room (following a number of name changes) never really missed a beat. Timely, funny, snaky and still often thoughtful, I make a point to subscribe to the show on iTunes (since it’s a gamble trying to get the station from here in B’lo).
Likewise, 2008 saw the departure of Washington DC station WJFK’s Don and Mike Show, with veteran mainstay Don Geronimo opting to retire this year. In its wake, his partner Mike O’Meara kept the rest of the radio show’s crew, brought back former producer Beth Ann McBride, and got The Mike O’Meara Show rolling. While I sometimes miss Don’s pissy “I’ve seen enuph of this shit” personality, Mike’s show still carries all of its predecessor’s charm and much of it’s biting humour. As long as Robb and Buzz stay on board, I don’t think this show will fail.
Now for some really quirky miscellany. This year, in my ever-cavorting quest for better and more comfortable grooming techniques, I took a new direction with my shaving regime. Now (most of the time) gone are expensive newfangled razor blades with vibrating doo-dads or quadruple action shaving surfaces. What’s old is new again, and for my money, with some practice, you will get a superior and ultimately comfortable shave with one blade safety razors, and adequate tub-soap and shaving brush. So, our final honorable mentions go out to Merkur Safety Razors and blades (my advice fellow groomers is, while inexpensive, do NOT go cheap on the quality of razor blades you buy), and Taylor of Old Bond Street shaving soaps (my particular choice is lavender, to give you that true Victorian feel and smell). One final advice, never--NEVER go cheap with your shaving brush and get the crappy boar’s bristle. What you find at the drugstore will usually not suffice!
Lombardo’s Restaurant on Hertel Ave. in Buffalo is probably the best restaurant we visited in the last year. It’s a low-key, very Tuscan-style Italian restaurant (imho), with really, really good food. To quote The Godfather, “Try the veal, it’s the best in the city.” While it’s considered political-correct-de rigeur to naysay veal consumption, one bite of my dinner here, and the first words that came out of my mouth was “We need to kill more baby cows.” The prices are a bit expensive, but you get it all in the food, and then some. Highly recommended, otherwise, I would be bothering to put it on this list.
Since it didn’t fall under the strictures of the my selection rules to obtain the prize for “Page Turner of the Year” (it wasn’t procured, started and finished within 2008, as the rules dictate), I wasn’t able to select The Kings of New York, by __ , otherwise, it would have been a very strong contender. A non-fiction account of a Brooklyn chess team, filled with street savvy minority students who spend as much time hustling at cards and on-line poker as they do hustling and competing at chess (and a whole lot of prodigal Russian immigrants to boot), the book chronicles their year as they approach the national level high school championships. Along the way, __ covers the passion, turmoil and obsession of the “Game of Kings”, to say nothing of the life of New York High School students and teachers who gamely attempt to navigate the game the same as they do life.
In movies, everyone went ga ga over The Dark Knight. I can’t say that I blame them. Even though it didn’t ultimately get my pick for Movie of the Year, this is yet another example of a film building on it franchise, rather than trying to eek money from its shadow. As I mentioned in my main Endies piece, a lot of folx made note of the swan song performance of Heath Ledger (and let’s be honest--it is really fuckin’ good, after all). The fact of the matter is, as long as Chris Nolan and Christian Bale want to keep making Batman movies, this franchise will likely be a-okay for a while.
On the television front, I have to spend one more year showing love to the soon-departing ER. Granted, many have assumed (mostly correctly) that the show has jumped the shark years ago, but for a show who’s best days have past, this is still a surprisingly fantastic show. It wraps up a few weeks from now, after a rather lengthy stint on the air (I was still in college when this show got started--that’s like a lifetime ago!). I’m happy to have gotten a few run-ins resurrecting our fabled ER Drinking Game in the process this year, even if my long-running drinking character Abbie left the show early this season.
Speaking of drinking, let’s cover our favourite spirits and beverages for 2008. As you know, cocktails and drinks is a favourite subject (and pastime) of mine. I especially like giving a work out of the ol’ stainless steel shaker when I can. So first up, let’s give it up for True Daiquiris. By “True” we mean NOT the absurd blender cranked fruity flavored nonsense that most people think of. A True Daiquiri involves little more than rum, simple syrup and lots and lots of lime juice. It’s potent, to be sure, but a serious contender to get your drink in hot weather.
We’d also give our props to Bombay Saffire Martinis (yes, I’m one of the 1% of the entire human population who can drink a gin martini), Kentucky Bourbon (particularly Maker’s Mark), and Flying Bison beers. The Bison is a local brewery, run by former Loughran’s bartender Timmy Herzog, and while we love giving props to folx we’ve known, it goes without saying that the Bison produces excellent beer. Let me stress that: excellent…beer.
One of the places you can get that excellent beer is at the Snyder Bar and Grill. Formerly The First Place, the establishment we once referred to as our “auxiliary offices” here at Dreaming Life, TFP owner Glen Schunk decided to turn over the reigns to bartender Mary Beth Saraceno last spring, and, following some minor makeovers on the place and the menu, the Bar and Grill was born. We’re mostly happy with the changes--minus the change in French fries, mind you--and we’re glad that business is still cranking in spite of our obvious economic travails.
Other establishments we’d like to mention are Starbuck’s on Main St. in Williamsville, and Spot Coffee on Delaware. Spot is particularly excellent for people watching on Saturdays with my girlfriend. In spite of the fact that Starbuck’s is a confounded nationally saturated chain, the Williamsville one is still the place I can get some serious reading done (to say nothing of homework -- I’m writing this very paragraph there this moment). If you live in the South Buffalo area, I’d also recommend the Caz Coffee Cafe on Abbott Road. It’s mellow and friendly, and the staff are seriously good peeps.
In Radio programming, we need to give thumbs up to The Break Room on Rochester’s WCMF mornings. Legendary radio personality Brother Wease left the station behind in early ‘08 over contract disputes, with the rest of his on-air team left behind to try to make a go of it. Not surprising to me (since I remember how well this cast did with Wease out of commission a few years ago undergoing cancer treatment), what became The Break Room (following a number of name changes) never really missed a beat. Timely, funny, snaky and still often thoughtful, I make a point to subscribe to the show on iTunes (since it’s a gamble trying to get the station from here in B’lo).
Likewise, 2008 saw the departure of Washington DC station WJFK’s Don and Mike Show, with veteran mainstay Don Geronimo opting to retire this year. In its wake, his partner Mike O’Meara kept the rest of the radio show’s crew, brought back former producer Beth Ann McBride, and got The Mike O’Meara Show rolling. While I sometimes miss Don’s pissy “I’ve seen enuph of this shit” personality, Mike’s show still carries all of its predecessor’s charm and much of it’s biting humour. As long as Robb and Buzz stay on board, I don’t think this show will fail.
Now for some really quirky miscellany. This year, in my ever-cavorting quest for better and more comfortable grooming techniques, I took a new direction with my shaving regime. Now (most of the time) gone are expensive newfangled razor blades with vibrating doo-dads or quadruple action shaving surfaces. What’s old is new again, and for my money, with some practice, you will get a superior and ultimately comfortable shave with one blade safety razors, and adequate tub-soap and shaving brush. So, our final honorable mentions go out to Merkur Safety Razors and blades (my advice fellow groomers is, while inexpensive, do NOT go cheap on the quality of razor blades you buy), and Taylor of Old Bond Street shaving soaps (my particular choice is lavender, to give you that true Victorian feel and smell). One final advice, never--NEVER go cheap with your shaving brush and get the crappy boar’s bristle. What you find at the drugstore will usually not suffice!
Sunday, January 04, 2009
The 2008 End of the Year Awards...
Yes, it's been a while since I posted the End of the Year Awards, or the "Endies" as we grew to call them around here, but then it's been quite awhile since I've posted anything at all. I'm not going to bother to come up with excuses, since, as the proverb goes, like assholes, everyone's got one, and all of 'em pretty much stink.
Be that as it may, it's been one year most people are content to get the hell out of the way, if only to step into another potential grinding wheel that will be 2009. Sure, like any other year, 2008 had its ups--at least we got a new president--but mostly downs for the average American, at least (hell, if you were a republican, the new president probably wasn't even an up, but if you were a republican, you were a lot busier deluding yourself about the state of affairs to begin with, if you ask me). As far as pop culture goes, it was pretty much a grab-bag typical of other years: a decent amount of cool things (actually a pretty good year for movies), a decent amount of un-cool things (like Guns 'n' Roses finally releasing Chinese Democracy and absolutely no one giving a shit (or maybe that's actually a cool thing). So let's gather up the round table of this year's winners and "losers" in the grand game of pop culture, and let's see who grabs our selections for this year's "Endies" awards, shall we?.
Movie of the Year
We are thrilled to give this year's film selection to Juno, while not by any means a perfect movie, still a damn great one, with very believable performances by all (especially Jason Bateman's even though his role is smaller), and absurdly clever writing. Yes, a lot of people got down on aspects that made the notions of teenage pregnancy and adoption seem light-hearted, and some of those criticisms are legit--since the film made it seem a bit too much like "everything comes out okay in the wash" . But even tackling this theme in any way comedic is difficult enough. Too often merely bringing up teenage pregnancy automatically hearkens to overwrought melodrama the likes of which only the Lifetime Network is willing to handle (brecch), so kudos to Diablo Cody for even realizing the fact that, among all the crap that ensues in that maelstrom of emotional and physical awfulness there is a lot of shit that can be laughed at. And Junois, without a doubt, a very fucking funny film. I'm also glad the Academy Awards showed a little bit o' ball-sackage enuph to give Cody the nod for Best Original Screenplay (normally, they'll be content to show their "daring" by nominating you, then go back to playing it safe and pick some overly ornate thing that takes place in Europe or something to try to prove how sophisticated they are--holocaust movies are perennial favourites, of course).
Best Actor in a Film
A lot of people are going to pulling for Heath Ledger in this year's Awards season, and damned if I'd argue that much about it, even though I don't think he'll win too many, since it's not likely that the hoighty-toighty side of the awards-givers will want to credit a younger actor who checked out in somewhat seedier circumstances, much less give too much credit for a somewhat cartoony role in a comic-book genre movie. I say to hell with all that, he deserves the credit.
But he's still not my pick this year. For reasons involving how Ichoose to arrange the rules concerning Endies selections, this year's winner is Daniel Day-Lewis for his role in There Will Be Blood. Day-Lewis, of course, won last year's Oscars and wouldn't be in the running for this year's awards in the mainstream, but that's not the same way we select things here on "Dreaming Life" (we didn't catch the movie until the new year, so it's eligible for us in as an '08 pick).
But let's talk about yet another titanic role for Daniel Day-Lewis, who doesn't work often, but seems only capable of picking the most meaty roles when he finally does come out from under his rock. He won an Endie for his previous role in Scorsese's The Gangs of New York and this year's work is definitely along the same lines, a little bit over-the-top, but in that grandiose Orson Welles-like fashion that still muther-fucking triumphs, dammit. Indeed, this is likely to prove at least one of, if not the Citizen Kane-performances of the 21st century. His character is at once wholly understandable, while thoroughly dastardly. He's a truly horrible human being, yet you still wind up siding with him agains the smarmy, chicanerous fakery of the bible thumpers in the film who he subsequently knuckles under to, and ultimately triumphs over (in his own sick way). And anyone who has seen the movie will never forget (and oft repeat the line) "I drink your milkshake!"
Best Actress in a Film
Again, a nod to Juno for Ellen Page's role in the titular role. She's got smart-ass adorability, knee-hugging vulnerability, the necessary mix of too smart for her own good, and too dumb for her own good (or at least, ultimately much more emotionally needy than she would care to realize or admit) for a teenage character to be in this much of a pickle and still be completely sympathetic. A lot of what works about the character is, of course, the result of the script, but Page's work with the role is top-notch, and its wonderful to know Page potentially has years to only get better. We can only hope she keeps picking roles as good as this one, so she doesn't crawl up the shitty-movie-gutter-pipe that so many younger actors can wind up in (see Ben Affleck).
Record of the Year
Admittedly, there seem to be fewer and fewer records that I deem worthy to acquire in the last few years. A lot of that is probably a combination of my increasing age, and the still-volatile change that's undergoing the music industry as a whole. As an older adult, I must, by necessity, concede my place as a main consumer and understander of popular music to a younger and more devoted audience. That is the natural progression of things. Pop music, as a whole, does not devote its energies to reaching someone of my demographic, so it becomes my responsibility as a listener to scope out other places to get my gradually graying ya-yas out. The flip side of the matter is that the music worl in general has gotten ever-more-fragmented, loosely (dis)organized, and all the more difficult on which to get a read on. I don't know if musicians at all truly release "albums" or "records" per se with any kind of thought of it as a complete product, or if we'll see the inevitable development of musicians releasing "single" solely in the on-line format, or what. What we know is, no musician really carries with them any sort of a zeitgeist, at least not the way musicians are currently reaching audiences. And for that matter, I don't know how much audiences truly invest in music or musicians anymore. To most younger audiences, it's simply one more option in an entertainment vista which must give an ADD sufferer fits of both ecstasy and aggravation.
In short (too late) music is possibly simultaneously too easy to acquire, and too difficult to get any sort of a read on. It's somehow become both too obscure and too disposable. Too fragmented, and too transparent. Does anybody follow what I'm trying to get at with this point? Ha Ha.
Still, I do have a pick for Record of the Year (finally). My pick is the Soundtrack to the Motion Picture Film Once. And I'll tell you, look around for more of Glen Hansard's work in both the Frames and the Swell Season. The writing is, well, it's probably a bit more skewed towards a slightly more mature audience, sure, but it's very thoughtful, very melodic, very emotional...hell, it's just good. At times, it's just plain heart-rending (especially if you've seen the film the music accompanies, but even if you haven't...) and if nothing else, still very original.
Breakthrough of the Year
I gotta say, I think every other year, I've given this award to musicians, but this year, I asked myself "Why the hell should this award be strictly for musicians." So, similar to how I've broken that barrier with other awards recipients in previous years, I've broken that wall down with this one in selecting Russell Brand for his absolutely hysterically over-the-top role as Aldous Snow, the blissfully oblivious-to-the-point-of-enlightened rock star in Forgetting Sarah Marshall. To be frank, he's hardly even acting. If you've witnessed Russell Brand outside of this role, he's pretty much that manically out-there and funny. That can be a danger to a career, obviously, since people can get sick of your antics real fast if it becomes no more than a one-trick pony (see Jack Black). But a more fitting actor for a more fitting role in a more fitting movie I haven't seen in a while.
Fare Thee Well...
The award dedicated to a figure who will no longer be sharing their work with us, at least for the indefinite future. For a long time, I gave this one to musicians all the time also, then I hit a streak of people who died--a bit morbid even I was finding it, I admit as well. This year, we're breaking the mould yet again, and giving the award to Ric Flair, the greatest professional wrestler of all time, who this year gave his farewell performance at WrestleMania against Shawn Michaels, while being inducted into the WWE's Wrestling Hall of Fame the same weekend.
I admit, this is purely a dorky guy's selection, but anyone who spent any time watching any wrestling over the last thirty years knows who Ric Flair, the high-stylin', profilin', jet-flyin', kiss-stealin', wheelin' dealin' greatest performer in the sport today is. While his latter years weren't quite up to the snuff of his prime (hey, the guy was in his fifties, give him a break), nobody could ignore that not once did he give less than 100 % at every opportunity. And in his prime, he was one of the most infuriating, dramatic and simultaneously likeable and hateable in ring performer. To say that his promo work outside of matches is still the gold standard even today (the guy can work a microphone like no one else, which is why I still think you may seem him return in a managerial capacity someday). So, sadly, we must turn the line of girls away; Space Mountain is now closed, even if they all want to take a ride.
Glad to See 'em Go...
I've softened up a little over the years, and usually struggled to pick an artist or performer I'm actually glad won't be staining our memories any more with their presence. Usually, my selections for this one turn out wrong down the long run (see Britney Spears, who, like a bad rash, keeps showing up over and over again).
This year I have no shame, and no regrets for selecting O.J. Simpson. As a Buffalonian, we once worshipped this sacrilege (some idiots in this town manage to continue with the "O.J. is Innocent" rap). I'm glad, even if his past sins were somehow pardoned, he's not getting away with his more recent ones. If he comes out of prison alive, he'll be a broken-down old piece of shit with barely a few years left to live out his misery. I'm glad, you murdering, misogynistic waste of a meat-puppet. You say you're sorry all you want. You're right: sorry meaning said, not contrite. If there is a hell, I'll be going there too, but I promise you'll be at the far wing where the hardcore scumbags go, and I hope I get to watch you rot there.
TV's Must Watch Show
I have to say, while the old-school networks have gotten more and more diluted with shitty reality TV and really, really bad over-worked game shows that were invented back in the '60s, television viewing as whole has probably gotten better, as long as you keep looking around. This year, I'm giving the pick to HBO's Entourage which took things in a little bit of a different direction for its fourth season. Instead of making sure movie-star Vincent Chase and friends kept coming out of their quandaries all rosy and smiley-faced, instead he suffered through legit bouts of career failure, decimated self-confidence, existential burnout, what have you. He even skulked back home to Queens for a quick respite to try to make some sense out of himself. And while the characters are often critiqued for being too broad and meat-headed (especially Kevin Dillon's Johnny Drama), we have to remember how much A to B has to be crossed within a 26 minute episode, so give the guys a break after all. I for one couldn't make it through one episode this year without one good, noisy laugh-out-loud moment; and that's normally the space I save for watching The Office.
Best Live Performance of the Year
I gotta admit, the older I get, the fewer shows I make it out to, and I blame it on an assortment of things (but work and general laziness are probably the prime factors). Used to be a time there wasn't almost a week that went by I wasn't going to see someone play. But that lifestyle is saved for the twenty-somethings after all, and I am no twenty-something anymore. It also should not be neglected to mention that a lot of bigger shows no longer grace the shores of Buffalo anymore, so one has to do more picking and choosing of club shows and outdoor events to try to make up for the fact that HSBC Arena or Darien Lake Performing Arts Pavillion stand empty a whole lot more often.
I still did see a somewhat respectable number of shows for a man my age, and so the winner for this year's award goes to Ron Hawkins for his July 5th Performance at Gateway Park in North Tonawanda, NY.
Yes, don't I give this guy props almost every year? Aren't I getting just a little redundant. So, maybe guilty as charged there. But, while his activity has waned over the years, and he really only does a few shows a year, they are almost always some of the best shit you'll experience. Ron also doesn't settle for any one kind of show anymore. Sometimes he'll go mellow and acoustic, playing by himself, sometimes he'll break out the "rock band" format with Mark Hansen on drums and Dylan Parker on bass. And, sometimes, like this show, he'll also add other dimensions, with other musicians sitting in, whether it be cello, saxophone, violin, et al.
Suffice to say, Hawkins' catalogue is varied and extensive enuph to get away with this, and always quite successfully. It also doesn't hurt that in these parts, you've got enuph goobers like me, who've waded worshipfully through his career over two decades now (brrrr) who know the songs well-enuph to make most shows a rather spirited sing-along.
Mein Gott, I need a life.
Page Turner of the Year
I realize a theme is surfacing somewhat this year, with my pick of Brian Fritz's Between the Ropes, a book about the history of pro-wrestling's evolution through the '90s and into this decade. But what more can I admit. The past year or so, I've been big into the history of sports entertainment, even stretching all the way back to wrestling's post-war development of the National Wrestling Alliance that pretty much made modern wrestling what it is today.
Fritz, who is the main host of a lively, informative two hour weekly show on Florida's ESPN radio, focuses on the transformative past 15 years, which metamorphosed the wrestling world from a huge, glittery, cartoon-fest '80s era, to an equally huge, gritty, obscenity-fest '90s era, and its aftermath. Current sports-entertainment has been on a downward slump for a while, mostly the result of many companies now swallowed up into one megalithic World Wretling Entertainment; the departure of most of the previous era's mega-huge superstars, and, not the least, the rising dominance of Mixed Martial Arts hogging the pay-per-view buck of audiences (it should be noted, on Fritz's radio show itself, almost half the airtime is now devoted to UFC and other MMA topics, instead of actual sports entertainment- style "wrasslin'").
While I wish Fritz had spent more focus on what's gone awry for the industry (and better what remedies could be possible), the fact of the matter is, both fans and promoters aren't altogether certain of all the intangibles causing this effect. Be that as it may, I still had a hell of a time regaling the heydays of ECW, WCW, and the modern attempts by TNA to generate a legitimate rival to Vince McMahon's media empire.
Artist of the Year
She's the main brain, and the main face of NBC's sorely overlooked 30 Rock and she somewhat accidentally resurrected Saturday Night Live from cultural irrelevance for a couple of months (even if it was only for the first ten minutes of each week, and she wasn't even an official cast member anymore). Yes, we're giving the Artist of the Year award to Tina Fey this time, you betcha. What probably cinched this pick for me was her unadulterated admission that there was no way she could keep up the Palin impression if the McCain ticket actually won the Presidential / VP election. Nothing shows comedic smarts better than realizing a horse actually can get kicked after its dead, and just how funny that isn't.
But I'd also point out that Fey's creative direction of 30 Rock is miles better than any of the stuph she did when she actually was a cast member (and head writer) of SNL. And while lots of people seems to talk about this little show that could, the ratings prove not a lot of people are actually watching. My advice is, do it. DVR it, whatever. While it's not quite as "smart" as The Office, let's be realistic and remember that show isn't really quite as "smart" as too many hipsters try to make it out to be (but it is still pretty great). The other key factor is, 30 Rock isn't really trying to be as "smart" to begin with, but instead (successfully) goes for the oddball middle-brow vibe. And yes, Fey is not the single-handed force behind what makes the show so great, since Alec Baldwin (probably the greatest all-time repeast guest on SNL) is the guy most responsible for the show's hilarity.
Nonetheless, Fey is still the main brain behined the operation, and deserves the accolades for getting Baldwin to play Frack to her Frick.
Now, if we could only get her work in film to be close to this good, we'd get a chance to pick her for this award a little more often.
That's it for the Main Awards this Year. I'll be posting the "Honourable Mentions" in the future--right after I find my notes to them again...blargh.
Be that as it may, it's been one year most people are content to get the hell out of the way, if only to step into another potential grinding wheel that will be 2009. Sure, like any other year, 2008 had its ups--at least we got a new president--but mostly downs for the average American, at least (hell, if you were a republican, the new president probably wasn't even an up, but if you were a republican, you were a lot busier deluding yourself about the state of affairs to begin with, if you ask me). As far as pop culture goes, it was pretty much a grab-bag typical of other years: a decent amount of cool things (actually a pretty good year for movies), a decent amount of un-cool things (like Guns 'n' Roses finally releasing Chinese Democracy and absolutely no one giving a shit (or maybe that's actually a cool thing). So let's gather up the round table of this year's winners and "losers" in the grand game of pop culture, and let's see who grabs our selections for this year's "Endies" awards, shall we?.
Movie of the Year
We are thrilled to give this year's film selection to Juno, while not by any means a perfect movie, still a damn great one, with very believable performances by all (especially Jason Bateman's even though his role is smaller), and absurdly clever writing. Yes, a lot of people got down on aspects that made the notions of teenage pregnancy and adoption seem light-hearted, and some of those criticisms are legit--since the film made it seem a bit too much like "everything comes out okay in the wash" . But even tackling this theme in any way comedic is difficult enough. Too often merely bringing up teenage pregnancy automatically hearkens to overwrought melodrama the likes of which only the Lifetime Network is willing to handle (brecch), so kudos to Diablo Cody for even realizing the fact that, among all the crap that ensues in that maelstrom of emotional and physical awfulness there is a lot of shit that can be laughed at. And Junois, without a doubt, a very fucking funny film. I'm also glad the Academy Awards showed a little bit o' ball-sackage enuph to give Cody the nod for Best Original Screenplay (normally, they'll be content to show their "daring" by nominating you, then go back to playing it safe and pick some overly ornate thing that takes place in Europe or something to try to prove how sophisticated they are--holocaust movies are perennial favourites, of course).
Best Actor in a Film
A lot of people are going to pulling for Heath Ledger in this year's Awards season, and damned if I'd argue that much about it, even though I don't think he'll win too many, since it's not likely that the hoighty-toighty side of the awards-givers will want to credit a younger actor who checked out in somewhat seedier circumstances, much less give too much credit for a somewhat cartoony role in a comic-book genre movie. I say to hell with all that, he deserves the credit.
But he's still not my pick this year. For reasons involving how Ichoose to arrange the rules concerning Endies selections, this year's winner is Daniel Day-Lewis for his role in There Will Be Blood. Day-Lewis, of course, won last year's Oscars and wouldn't be in the running for this year's awards in the mainstream, but that's not the same way we select things here on "Dreaming Life" (we didn't catch the movie until the new year, so it's eligible for us in as an '08 pick).
But let's talk about yet another titanic role for Daniel Day-Lewis, who doesn't work often, but seems only capable of picking the most meaty roles when he finally does come out from under his rock. He won an Endie for his previous role in Scorsese's The Gangs of New York and this year's work is definitely along the same lines, a little bit over-the-top, but in that grandiose Orson Welles-like fashion that still muther-fucking triumphs, dammit. Indeed, this is likely to prove at least one of, if not the Citizen Kane-performances of the 21st century. His character is at once wholly understandable, while thoroughly dastardly. He's a truly horrible human being, yet you still wind up siding with him agains the smarmy, chicanerous fakery of the bible thumpers in the film who he subsequently knuckles under to, and ultimately triumphs over (in his own sick way). And anyone who has seen the movie will never forget (and oft repeat the line) "I drink your milkshake!"
Best Actress in a Film
Again, a nod to Juno for Ellen Page's role in the titular role. She's got smart-ass adorability, knee-hugging vulnerability, the necessary mix of too smart for her own good, and too dumb for her own good (or at least, ultimately much more emotionally needy than she would care to realize or admit) for a teenage character to be in this much of a pickle and still be completely sympathetic. A lot of what works about the character is, of course, the result of the script, but Page's work with the role is top-notch, and its wonderful to know Page potentially has years to only get better. We can only hope she keeps picking roles as good as this one, so she doesn't crawl up the shitty-movie-gutter-pipe that so many younger actors can wind up in (see Ben Affleck).
Record of the Year
Admittedly, there seem to be fewer and fewer records that I deem worthy to acquire in the last few years. A lot of that is probably a combination of my increasing age, and the still-volatile change that's undergoing the music industry as a whole. As an older adult, I must, by necessity, concede my place as a main consumer and understander of popular music to a younger and more devoted audience. That is the natural progression of things. Pop music, as a whole, does not devote its energies to reaching someone of my demographic, so it becomes my responsibility as a listener to scope out other places to get my gradually graying ya-yas out. The flip side of the matter is that the music worl in general has gotten ever-more-fragmented, loosely (dis)organized, and all the more difficult on which to get a read on. I don't know if musicians at all truly release "albums" or "records" per se with any kind of thought of it as a complete product, or if we'll see the inevitable development of musicians releasing "single" solely in the on-line format, or what. What we know is, no musician really carries with them any sort of a zeitgeist, at least not the way musicians are currently reaching audiences. And for that matter, I don't know how much audiences truly invest in music or musicians anymore. To most younger audiences, it's simply one more option in an entertainment vista which must give an ADD sufferer fits of both ecstasy and aggravation.
In short (too late) music is possibly simultaneously too easy to acquire, and too difficult to get any sort of a read on. It's somehow become both too obscure and too disposable. Too fragmented, and too transparent. Does anybody follow what I'm trying to get at with this point? Ha Ha.
Still, I do have a pick for Record of the Year (finally). My pick is the Soundtrack to the Motion Picture Film Once. And I'll tell you, look around for more of Glen Hansard's work in both the Frames and the Swell Season. The writing is, well, it's probably a bit more skewed towards a slightly more mature audience, sure, but it's very thoughtful, very melodic, very emotional...hell, it's just good. At times, it's just plain heart-rending (especially if you've seen the film the music accompanies, but even if you haven't...) and if nothing else, still very original.
Breakthrough of the Year
I gotta say, I think every other year, I've given this award to musicians, but this year, I asked myself "Why the hell should this award be strictly for musicians." So, similar to how I've broken that barrier with other awards recipients in previous years, I've broken that wall down with this one in selecting Russell Brand for his absolutely hysterically over-the-top role as Aldous Snow, the blissfully oblivious-to-the-point-of-enlightened rock star in Forgetting Sarah Marshall. To be frank, he's hardly even acting. If you've witnessed Russell Brand outside of this role, he's pretty much that manically out-there and funny. That can be a danger to a career, obviously, since people can get sick of your antics real fast if it becomes no more than a one-trick pony (see Jack Black). But a more fitting actor for a more fitting role in a more fitting movie I haven't seen in a while.
Fare Thee Well...
The award dedicated to a figure who will no longer be sharing their work with us, at least for the indefinite future. For a long time, I gave this one to musicians all the time also, then I hit a streak of people who died--a bit morbid even I was finding it, I admit as well. This year, we're breaking the mould yet again, and giving the award to Ric Flair, the greatest professional wrestler of all time, who this year gave his farewell performance at WrestleMania against Shawn Michaels, while being inducted into the WWE's Wrestling Hall of Fame the same weekend.
I admit, this is purely a dorky guy's selection, but anyone who spent any time watching any wrestling over the last thirty years knows who Ric Flair, the high-stylin', profilin', jet-flyin', kiss-stealin', wheelin' dealin' greatest performer in the sport today is. While his latter years weren't quite up to the snuff of his prime (hey, the guy was in his fifties, give him a break), nobody could ignore that not once did he give less than 100 % at every opportunity. And in his prime, he was one of the most infuriating, dramatic and simultaneously likeable and hateable in ring performer. To say that his promo work outside of matches is still the gold standard even today (the guy can work a microphone like no one else, which is why I still think you may seem him return in a managerial capacity someday). So, sadly, we must turn the line of girls away; Space Mountain is now closed, even if they all want to take a ride.
Glad to See 'em Go...
I've softened up a little over the years, and usually struggled to pick an artist or performer I'm actually glad won't be staining our memories any more with their presence. Usually, my selections for this one turn out wrong down the long run (see Britney Spears, who, like a bad rash, keeps showing up over and over again).
This year I have no shame, and no regrets for selecting O.J. Simpson. As a Buffalonian, we once worshipped this sacrilege (some idiots in this town manage to continue with the "O.J. is Innocent" rap). I'm glad, even if his past sins were somehow pardoned, he's not getting away with his more recent ones. If he comes out of prison alive, he'll be a broken-down old piece of shit with barely a few years left to live out his misery. I'm glad, you murdering, misogynistic waste of a meat-puppet. You say you're sorry all you want. You're right: sorry meaning said, not contrite. If there is a hell, I'll be going there too, but I promise you'll be at the far wing where the hardcore scumbags go, and I hope I get to watch you rot there.
TV's Must Watch Show
I have to say, while the old-school networks have gotten more and more diluted with shitty reality TV and really, really bad over-worked game shows that were invented back in the '60s, television viewing as whole has probably gotten better, as long as you keep looking around. This year, I'm giving the pick to HBO's Entourage which took things in a little bit of a different direction for its fourth season. Instead of making sure movie-star Vincent Chase and friends kept coming out of their quandaries all rosy and smiley-faced, instead he suffered through legit bouts of career failure, decimated self-confidence, existential burnout, what have you. He even skulked back home to Queens for a quick respite to try to make some sense out of himself. And while the characters are often critiqued for being too broad and meat-headed (especially Kevin Dillon's Johnny Drama), we have to remember how much A to B has to be crossed within a 26 minute episode, so give the guys a break after all. I for one couldn't make it through one episode this year without one good, noisy laugh-out-loud moment; and that's normally the space I save for watching The Office.
Best Live Performance of the Year
I gotta admit, the older I get, the fewer shows I make it out to, and I blame it on an assortment of things (but work and general laziness are probably the prime factors). Used to be a time there wasn't almost a week that went by I wasn't going to see someone play. But that lifestyle is saved for the twenty-somethings after all, and I am no twenty-something anymore. It also should not be neglected to mention that a lot of bigger shows no longer grace the shores of Buffalo anymore, so one has to do more picking and choosing of club shows and outdoor events to try to make up for the fact that HSBC Arena or Darien Lake Performing Arts Pavillion stand empty a whole lot more often.
I still did see a somewhat respectable number of shows for a man my age, and so the winner for this year's award goes to Ron Hawkins for his July 5th Performance at Gateway Park in North Tonawanda, NY.
Yes, don't I give this guy props almost every year? Aren't I getting just a little redundant. So, maybe guilty as charged there. But, while his activity has waned over the years, and he really only does a few shows a year, they are almost always some of the best shit you'll experience. Ron also doesn't settle for any one kind of show anymore. Sometimes he'll go mellow and acoustic, playing by himself, sometimes he'll break out the "rock band" format with Mark Hansen on drums and Dylan Parker on bass. And, sometimes, like this show, he'll also add other dimensions, with other musicians sitting in, whether it be cello, saxophone, violin, et al.
Suffice to say, Hawkins' catalogue is varied and extensive enuph to get away with this, and always quite successfully. It also doesn't hurt that in these parts, you've got enuph goobers like me, who've waded worshipfully through his career over two decades now (brrrr) who know the songs well-enuph to make most shows a rather spirited sing-along.
Mein Gott, I need a life.
Page Turner of the Year
I realize a theme is surfacing somewhat this year, with my pick of Brian Fritz's Between the Ropes, a book about the history of pro-wrestling's evolution through the '90s and into this decade. But what more can I admit. The past year or so, I've been big into the history of sports entertainment, even stretching all the way back to wrestling's post-war development of the National Wrestling Alliance that pretty much made modern wrestling what it is today.
Fritz, who is the main host of a lively, informative two hour weekly show on Florida's ESPN radio, focuses on the transformative past 15 years, which metamorphosed the wrestling world from a huge, glittery, cartoon-fest '80s era, to an equally huge, gritty, obscenity-fest '90s era, and its aftermath. Current sports-entertainment has been on a downward slump for a while, mostly the result of many companies now swallowed up into one megalithic World Wretling Entertainment; the departure of most of the previous era's mega-huge superstars, and, not the least, the rising dominance of Mixed Martial Arts hogging the pay-per-view buck of audiences (it should be noted, on Fritz's radio show itself, almost half the airtime is now devoted to UFC and other MMA topics, instead of actual sports entertainment- style "wrasslin'").
While I wish Fritz had spent more focus on what's gone awry for the industry (and better what remedies could be possible), the fact of the matter is, both fans and promoters aren't altogether certain of all the intangibles causing this effect. Be that as it may, I still had a hell of a time regaling the heydays of ECW, WCW, and the modern attempts by TNA to generate a legitimate rival to Vince McMahon's media empire.
Artist of the Year
She's the main brain, and the main face of NBC's sorely overlooked 30 Rock and she somewhat accidentally resurrected Saturday Night Live from cultural irrelevance for a couple of months (even if it was only for the first ten minutes of each week, and she wasn't even an official cast member anymore). Yes, we're giving the Artist of the Year award to Tina Fey this time, you betcha. What probably cinched this pick for me was her unadulterated admission that there was no way she could keep up the Palin impression if the McCain ticket actually won the Presidential / VP election. Nothing shows comedic smarts better than realizing a horse actually can get kicked after its dead, and just how funny that isn't.
But I'd also point out that Fey's creative direction of 30 Rock is miles better than any of the stuph she did when she actually was a cast member (and head writer) of SNL. And while lots of people seems to talk about this little show that could, the ratings prove not a lot of people are actually watching. My advice is, do it. DVR it, whatever. While it's not quite as "smart" as The Office, let's be realistic and remember that show isn't really quite as "smart" as too many hipsters try to make it out to be (but it is still pretty great). The other key factor is, 30 Rock isn't really trying to be as "smart" to begin with, but instead (successfully) goes for the oddball middle-brow vibe. And yes, Fey is not the single-handed force behind what makes the show so great, since Alec Baldwin (probably the greatest all-time repeast guest on SNL) is the guy most responsible for the show's hilarity.
Nonetheless, Fey is still the main brain behined the operation, and deserves the accolades for getting Baldwin to play Frack to her Frick.
Now, if we could only get her work in film to be close to this good, we'd get a chance to pick her for this award a little more often.
That's it for the Main Awards this Year. I'll be posting the "Honourable Mentions" in the future--right after I find my notes to them again...blargh.
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