Sunday, December 20, 2009

Maybe I wasn't cut out to be a Beatle?

So I finally got my chance to play Beatles Rock Band when some friends invited me to play it at a little soiree Sunday evening. Now I'm wondering if I was ever meant to be a Beatle at all.

If you know me, that's sort of an astonishing statement. For nearly 30 years now I've been known as a Beatlemaniac par excellence. It was my primary claim to fame in high school. Everybody knew me as "the kid who liked the Beatles." So in-depth was my knowledge that one of my classmates (and now dearest friends) made a game out of it: She would always ask me "What was the Xth word of the Yth song on the Zth album?" And I would be able to answer her like THAT (insert finger snap here).

So, playing Beatles Rock Band should be a *snap* for me, right?

Weeeeellllllll ....

OK, here's the thing. I'm pretty plugged into pop culture, except in one area: video games. Why? Because I suck at them. I've never owned a video game console - not even an old Atari 2600. A few exceptions aside, the games frustrate me endlessly and are not fun for me.  Most games require hand/eye coordination and manual dexterity - neither of which is my strong suit.

Still, I held out hope that my depth of Beatles knowledge would trump my shallow physical abilities.  "I know the Beatles' songs inside and out," I told myself. "How hard can it be?"

(Insert foreboding minor chord here, a la "A Day in the Life")

Things started well enough at first. I loved the detail that was crammed into the game, and the voice of the "recording engineer" even sounded a bit like Norman Smith, the Beatles' chief man behind the console from 1962 to 1965. (Yes, I'm proud to be a big enough geek to know the engineers' names.)



And then something funny happened. The game played to the OPPOSITE of my musical abilities.

You see, at one time I could play a decent bass. I got one when I was just 17 (you know what I mean), and of course, I wanted to be Paul McCartney. I made pretty decent runs at playing "Twist and Shout," "And I Love Her," "Day Tripper," and "Taxman," among others. Still, when I didn't get as good as Paul in six months, I decided bass playing wasn't my bag and I became a writer instead.

As for my singing, I have been told - to my face - that I can't carry a tune in a bucket. Another of my dear friends, who is quite a talented singer, told me gently once that I was "pretty bad."

So imagine my surprise when I absolutely ACED the singing in the game - and then looked like a joker in the guitar-playing part!

For those of you not familiar with Rock Band, the game works like this: You can be a singer, a guitarist/bassist or a drummer. You watch the screen for prompts and you do your best to follow along.

For the singing, that's pretty easy. It's not unlike karaoke. I was worried at first that the game took pitch into account, but worry evaporated as soon as I tore into "Come Together." Shoot me, I SOARED on it, getting even the smallest vocal nuances right. (It has you do all the "Ohs" "Ahs" and the like.) My only difficulty was pitch on some of the long high notes, but for the most part, I was scoring in the high 90s. Even got a few 100s.

I knew better than to try my hand (and foot) at the drums, especially when I saw there was  a bass drum pedal. There was no way in hell I could get the hang of that. Still, I thought I could make at least a decent run at the guitar since I sorta played once and knew the songs by heart, right?

Wrong.  Here come the manual dexterity and eye-hand coordination.

The way this part of the game operates, you have to press the color-coded keys on the electronic guitar to match the sequence on the screen. It's kind of like an elaborate version of that old game Simon, only Rock Band doesn't electronically razz you, thank god. Because if it did, my soul would turn into rubber. While my guitar gently weeps, indeed.







I picked songs I thought would be easy. After all, "Getting Better" and "Hello Goodbye" don't have very tricky guitar lines. Still, as I flailed around on the fret board, my frustration rose as my score plummeted. I would mention what my numbers were, but I dare not say, because my friend who played the song lyrics game with me would never let me hear the end of it - and she's probably reading this, so I'm digging in deep already. You might even say I'm fixing a hole.

Did I still  have fun? Oh sure, as long as I was singing. But suddenly I'm glad I didn't ask for the game for Christmas. Otherwise the console would come OUT through the bathroom window!

Monday, December 14, 2009

How a film buff decorates for Christmas

Sorry I haven't posted here much lately but I've been quite busy readjusting to life in Ohio, watching movies (more to come from Sir Critic - end of the year, ya know) and preparing for the holly-days.

Ah, the holidays - I must admit I am a sucker for such things, although you might not be able to tell by the way I decorate. I don't believe in manual labor, you see, so I'm not one to deck all my halls. I do have a full-size Christmas tree, but that is simply too much trouble for me. I'd blow a few fuses in my brain just trying to string on the lights, to say nothing of actually assembling the darn thing. I'd end up singing my own version of Monty Python's Lumberjack song!

All that said, I DO like to decorate at least a little for Christmas, the key word being little. So last year I bought a little tree to decorate. I call it my "Charlie Brown Christmas tree." Those of you who know me are probably smiling knowingly, because, yes, I can still recite much of the TV from memory.



Here's what mine looks like:




But the real fun is in the details! Being the film nut I am,  I have a number of ornaments with characters who have appeared in movies. Observe:












 





Yes, I'm a Wizard of Oz fan - but what reasonable person isn't?  For more fun with the photos, check out my new photo album on Facebook. Again, you don't have to be on Facebook to see it. 

"I never thought it was such a bad little tree. It's not bad at all, really. Maybe it just needs a little love."

(Cue "Hark the Herald Angels Sing")

Saturday, December 5, 2009

The Adventures of a Teetotaler in a Bar on Karaoke night

Having left the Crescent City and headed back north, I find myself in Memphis, TN. I have been here many times before, but this visit feels wrong.

For one thing, my very dear friend Angela (Angie to me) Allen is not here, and she's normally here when I am, so that's distressing enough. However, this visit literally FEELS wrong. You see, I almost always visit here in the summer, so it's more than a little bizarre to find it's in the low 30s as I type this. Not that I can't hack the cold (I am from Ohio, after all), but I agree with my old friend Todd Pack, whom I am staying with, when he says "We need more degrees."

Todd has to work tonight at the P&H Cafe, watching the door. Actually, he's really supposed to watch for any underage people that come through the door rather than the door itself, but saying so simply requires too many syllables.

Not wanting to hang out by myself, I decide to follow Todd to the bar. This creates a unique problem for me.  For those handful of readers who don't know me well, I don't drink. Alcohol and my taste buds have been like the Hatfields and the McCoys for years. They just don't agree with each other. Plus, if you saw the rate at which I suck down Diet Cokes, you would shudder to think of what would happen if those were spiked.

So what does a non-drinker/writer/Net addict do in a bar? He blogs, natch. I'm told this is karaoke night, so things could get REALLY interesting.

9:30 PM - I see Angie is online and I IM her, trying to astound her with the fact I am in a bar. I forget that she remembers that Todd works in a bar, so I'm there quite a lot. I tell her, "Damn. So much for ruining my reputation."

10:08 PM - Dialogue I overhear:

"I went to a strip club. Not the most adult decision I ever made."

"What do you mean? You have to be an adult to get into a strip club."

10:18 PM - It seems kinda quiet in here for a Friday night. Not many people. Maybe they think there aren't enough degrees either.

10:30 PM - I wonder aloud when the karaoke is gonna start, cos I'm not finding much to write about, dammit. Todd tells me 11, but no one is showing up. His girlfriend Renee asks if I'm going to sing."  I reply, "I  don't want to start a stampede."

10:42 PM - The place is starting to fill up some. Maybe some blog-worthy inebriated karaoke will happen after all.  And maybe this post could actually avoid being like a dose of Nyquil, the coughing, aching, stuffy head, fever so you can be unconscious within 30 seconds and remain that way for 30 hours medicine.

11:21 PM - Karaoke still hasn't started and there are plenty o' people here now. These are definitely bar timekeepers.

11:22 PM -  I hear a "Check, check, 1, 2," the universal indicator for "There Will Be Singing."

11:24 PM -  I hear a backing track for Peter Gabriel's "Solsbury Hill." There are no hearts going boom boom boom, however, because no one is singing. Is this a test of the Karaoke Broadcast System?

11:28 PM - Now it's P. Gabriel's "Steam" with no singers. If "In Your Eyes" comes on and no one at least holds a boom box over their head, this is officially the lamest karaoke ever.

11:32 PM - Ah, NOW we're gettin' going. A girl is coming up to sing Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive." She's enjoying herself. Not half-bad, actually. Not really half-good either, but all in fun, right?

11:38 PM - Another girl attacks - well, crud, I dunno this tune. But she's definitely attacking it. In every sense of the word.

11:42 PM - Our next song is "Jolene," which is impossible to miss, since the name is repeated 76 times in the lyrics. The vocalist hits the Jolenes with gusto but garbles much of the rest.

11:46 PM - We have our first male singer, singing "The Ballad of Chasey Lain."  A Google search reveals this to be an ode to a porn star, near as I can tell. The challenge with this song is to fill in the dirty words blanked out on the screen.  What, you were expecting class?

11:50 PM - Another man sings Pat Benetar's "Hell is for Children." The guys are plainly  looking for excuses to cuss in front of an audience. I'm having fun imagining how this guy would fare with "Shadows of the Night." I'm also glad I'm not near him when he's shouting "hell."

11:55 PM - An older gal hits us with her vocal stylings on "Your Mama Don't Dance." It's fun to watch her just stand there during the long instrumental breaks. I think this would be more fun if you added  Rock Band/Guitar Hero instruments.

11:59 PM - "Me and Bobby McGee" is next, a song with lyrics about Louisiana.  How apropos for me! This girl is actually fairly good. She at least sings with some enthusiasm and can be heard above the robo band.

12:04 AM - I had to remember to type AM so as not to create the impression the karaoke was THAT long! Our host, having failed to rustle up a singer, takes the mic himself and performs Gordon Lightfoot's "If You Could Read My Mind." He could read mine if he reads this post.

12:09 AM - A cute girl makes like Dusty Springfield and sings "Son of a Preacher Man." She's actually kinda good.  And she amusingly plays along when the CD skips. But I can't think of this song anymore without hearing the phrase "Warm - warmer - disco."

12:14 AM - It's the Doors' "Light My Fire" - never mind the vocals - the awful Casio keyboard sound on that organ riff is going to give me nightmares!

12:19 AM - A duo wants me to want them ... by singing Cheap Trick. Didn't they, didn't they, didn't they see me cryin?

12:23 AM - "Magic Man" by Heart comes on, but all we get is someone who wants to be Ann Wilson. I still say we should have a Rock Band guitar so another girl can be Nancy.

12:30 AM - A guy sings (no, shouts) Bonnie Tyler's "Total Eclipse of the Heart," a song I never could stand. There are no f-bombs in the lyrics, but this guy puts 'em in there anyway.  Now I'm only falling apart indeed.

12:40 AM - Another shouter tries to sing Motley Crue's "Shout at the Devil." No, never mind, he's not a shouter. The only lyrics he knows are the title line.  More like Mumble at the Devil.

12:43 AM - It's Van Morrison's "Brown-Eyed  Girl," one of those songs I like but have heard so often, I wouldn't mind if I never heard it again. Kinda like "Hotel California."

It's 12:47 AM. Do you know where your children are?

12:48 AM -  Oh wow. A girl takes on the Beatles' "Oh!  Darling." (Yes, there's an exclamation point in the title. She better have some throat on her! Not a bad voice, actually, but THIS song HAS  to be screamed.  She sings it fairly straight but has fun with all the "woos" and such.  Needs more gusto. Yeah, it's a picky Beatle fan talkin.

12:53 AM - The older gal who sang before returns to sing "The Letter" by the Box Tops. She's apparently the DJ's mom. No wonder she gets to sing twice.

12:55 AM - It's all in the family, as the DJ takes another turn, but he doesn't sing "Those Were The Days." He sings "I've Got the Music in Me," which is pretty appropriate for a karaoke DJ, really.

1:06 AM - Our next singer announces he's "sufficiently drunk enough" to sing David Bowie's "Fame" (co-written by John Lennon, said the Beatle geek). Nah, he's not. He'd at least be amusing and try to sing all those "Fames" at different pitches if he were. He might have been funnier if he'd tried to sing the Irene Cara song.

1:13 AM - Another duo does ABBA's "Fernando." Wonder if this made the light bulb go on over Billy Crystal's head.

1:17 AM - Dig if you will the guy singing "When Does Cry." He says he's wasted - either that or he's really into acting the part since he's crawling on the stage. That's entertainment! Look for him on YouTube. I am later told this guy's name really is Prince. There was a girl crawling around with him too - the girl who sang "Jolene." Given half the chance, they'd try a karaoke version of "Darling Nikki," I bet.

1:22 AM - A guy is singing now, but I can't understand him and two people are blocking the screen with the lyrics. Suddenly I'm in the obstructed view section. I don't feel too deprived.

 1:30 AM - Still another duet selects the Counting Crows' "Mr. Jones." The only other song I can immediately think of that has "Sha la la" in the lyrics is the theme to Family Ties.

1:36 AM - This is ground control to Major Tom. This guy's actually trying to sing the song. What's wrong with him?

Later in the evening (morning?) afer I'd lost track of time:  Highlights include the best vocal of the evening, a spirited take on "Love is a Battlefield" by a girl who professed never to have done karaoke before. Maybe that's why she was actually good. One of the more warped performances was a duet of "You Oughta Know" - sung by two males who gender-switched the lyrics!

I'm gonna wrap this up with the best possible capper: A take on "Bohemian Rhapsody." Two people got up to sing, but the real performers were the patrons of the bar, most of whom joined in rather loudly. All that said, I still prefer the Muppets' version:



I've been at this for four hours-plus now. I've had enough, and I'll wager you have too.  But hey - it took a lot less time for you to read this than it did for me to write this! So in the spirit of the evening, I leave you with a lyric I know only too well:

Why why why why why why
Do you say
Goodbye, goodbye, bye bye bye bye
Oh no!

Thursday, December 3, 2009

A man with a French last name visits the French Quarter

As promised, I returned to the French Quarter on Thursday. I walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked some more.

Oh, sure, I saw a lot of stuff, too, but I am SO beat from all that hoofing that I am not lucid enough to write the kind of post this deserves. So what I am going to do instead is link you to the photo album I put up on Facebook. (You don't have to be on FB to see it).

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=126684&id=669329122&l=5b9069cfe6

I took more than 50 shots, and I wrote about as many captions, so it's a pretty comprehensive tour.  If anyone has any problems seeing the album or has questions about the photos, please let me know.

I will be spending much of Friday driving to Memphis, and I'm not sure what kind of Net connection I'll have once I get there.  I'll probably do one last post after I get home Sunday, summing up any adventures in Memphis, where I hope to make a long-awaited trip to the Rendezvous barbeque restaurant.

Thanks for reading; I will most likely see you in this space again when I turn back into an Ohioan.

PS - The French Quarter was great - but I still preferred the Prytania movie theater and the Disney exhibit. Gotta be me.

There's no business like show business

The French Quarter? Hah. Compared to the attractions I saw Wednesday, it's more like the French Nickel.

I'll be going back to the Nick- er, Quarter on Thursday, but I honestly doubt I'll have as much fun there as I did at the Prytania Theatre and the New Orleans Museum of Modern Art, both of which centered around - you guessed it - movies!

The Prytania Theatre is the ONLY single-screen theater left not only in New Orleans, but in ALL of Louisiana. Places like this are a dying breed, and that's such a shame because these sorts of theaters have something today's megaplexes are sorely missing - personality.

The Prytanina is literally a neighborhood theater - it's smack dab in the middle of a residential district. There aren't even many businesses right nearby. The layout is basically house, house, house, house, theater, house, house, house and house. In location and general appearance it reminded me of the late and lamented Dabel Theatre in East Dayton.




Dad and I trekked there to catch a showing of Miracle on 34th Street. (Tis the season, you know, even with palm trees and temperatures in the 60s.) When we arrived, the owner, Rene Brunet, greeted us warmly, with a big smile, and with a Looney Tunes tie on.




Some movie theaters have character, but the Prytania has  character in Rene, who was an absolute charmer. Introducing the movie, he self-effacingly cracked, "The real miracle will be to get me to shut up." He didn't have to, I could have listened to the guy for hours. He has as many stories about movie theaters as I do Beatle lyrics jammed in my head.




Upon entering the theater, we were treated to a very strange selection of French animated shorts. It was hard to get a glimpse of these; the digital projector they used kept skipping around the titles; turned out they were testing the equipment. The most amusing short we see is a CG one of an elephant jumping and somersaulting on a trampoline.

Just at the classic movie series in Dayton does, our program started with a cartoon, which was Bully for Bugs - that's the one where Mr. Bunny tangles with a bull after failing to make that left turn at Albuquerque. ("Stop steamin' up my tail! What are ya tryin' ta do, wrinkle it?")  It's projected via a DVD, and I am briefly amused when the projector selects the audio commentary track from animation historian Michael Barrier. It's Looney Tunes with a PBS edge - for about five seconds, anyway.



I am initially disappointed to learn that Miracle on 34th Street will also be projected digitally, but am relieved to learn they have a high-resolution projector, not one of those crappy ones that makes it look like you're watching the movie through a screen door. I will always prefer a good-quality film print,  but I recognize those are harder and harder to come by - if digital projection must be done, this is the way to do it.

And the film? It's one of my five favorite Christmas movies, and really, it should be anybody's. Edmund Gwenn  richly deserved his Oscar for playing Santa - it's the best performance in a Christmas movie this side of Alistair Sim. The movie always gets to a sap like me, who really belives in those "lovely intangibles."  After all, they're the only things that are worthwhile.




After the movie, I chit-chat with a few fellow patrons, regaling them with trivia about how Gwenn won an Oscar and helping to clarify lines from the film. More importantly, I introduce myself to Rene, who really seems touched by my interest in the place. He gives me a copy of Preservation Magazine, which features a profile of him, which he has autographed.  It's my first souvenir of my trip - and surely my favorite. I'm only sorry I can't return here this weekend when Rear Window is playing. But I WILL be back when I return to NOLA.

After that, Dad and I venture to the New Orleans Museum of Modern Art, which has an exhibit called "Dreams Come True," which features original artwork from Disney's fairy tale movies, from Snow White to The Princess and the Frog, which is timely, considering the latter is set in New Orleans. The artwork ranges from concept art to rough animation to finished stills.




Predictably,  I wasn't allowed to take pictures inside, and that handicaps me here. Skilled writer through I may be, no prose of mine can adequately convey the power of the imagery on display. Suffice it to say that for a Disney nut like me, this was absolute bliss. Just seeing ORIGINAL works by legends like Les Clark, Norm Ferguson, Mary Blair, Frank Thomas, Ollie Johnston, Glen Keane and so many more was thrilling. In my mind's eye, I felt like I was at the studio while these drawings were created. And the clips displayed on hi-res TVs throughout the exhibit looked absolutely stunning.

The exhibit also has those little audio guides you carry around with you - these look like early cell phones that are about the size of a baton. The audio clips, including sound bites from Walt, are fun, but I've always felt these devices make the tours a little less personal because you get sucked into the audio and not into the people around you. Luckily, my dad alleviates this. Being a graphic artist himself, he points out aspects of the drawings I would have never spotted on my own, such as lightly drawn grids that help dertermine the sense of space.

The exhibit does have one MAJOR mis-step. It omits Aladdin entirely, and I can't figure out why. Aladdin does have a princess, so it counts as a fairy tale. Considering it was made by John Musker and Ron Clements, who also directed The Princess and the Frog, Aladdin's absence is especially unfortunate.

That aside, the exhibit is a marvel. It ends with a teaser of sorts - a single painting from their next fairy tale, Rapunzel, due in theaters next year. If only I could see The Princess and the Frog in the very city in which it is set, but that will have to wait till next weekend.

And just in case you were wondering, I didn't get a chance to sample any unique NOLA cuisine, so there will be no food porn pictures in this post. Look for some next time, after my visit to the Quarter.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

NOLA Day 2 - a wet whirwind

I finally got to see a lot of New Orleans on my second day - granted, most of it was from the inside of a car, but still, a view is a view.

We were going to go to the Museum of Modern Art to see the Disney exhibit, but the museum turned out to be closed on Tuesdays. So Plan B (as opposed to M-O-U-S-E) was to drive around and see as much as we could from the car, since it rained all day long.

Actually, for our first stop, we didn't have to leave at all. Dad showed me the church associated with the Friary. Just for comparison's sake, here's the church at the time of the flood:




And here it is now:




Quite the difference, no?

Once we left, Dad took me to the lower Ninth Ward, on which Katrina was especially punishing. Here, I was struck by the houses being built, some of them through Brad Pitt's efforts. The architectural style struck me as awfully "Hollwood" for such a Southern state. Witness:







Shortly after that, we made our way to the French Quarter. Even though the rain prevented us from getting out and exploring, I could tell from the car that you could spend your  entire vacation here and not waste your time. Just looking at all the varying styles of the buildings was fascinating.






We're hoping to be able to get out and walk around the Quarter, possibly on Thursday if the skies are clear.

Next we made our way to the Garden District,  AKA the fancy parta town. We stopped at a little mall of shops, which rather reminded me of the old Dayton Arcade:

Our one stop here was the Garden District Book Shop, and this place was soemthing all too rare in the era of Barnes & Nobles and Books-a-Millions: a bookstore with personality. The selection wasn't especailly deep, but the place had atmosphere to spare. Boxes of books that were still being unpacked dotted the floor. There were all kinds of autographed  copies that incluided everyone from Pat Conroy to Sue Monk Kidd.  I was especially amused by the shelf of vampire books, dominated, of course, by Anne Rice tomes.  I could have spent hours here, even in such a tiny place. Great fun.

 

After that we had dinner at the Camellia Grill, which is rather like a Steak n Shake without the corporate sheen.




We had, of course, burgers. I had a double on toasted rye that was quite thick and flavorful, but the best part was the chili, which had a nice kick to it - I wish there were more of it!




And that was pretty much it for the day. It gets dark at about 5 p.m. here, which is rather unsettling, but it leave me plenty of time free to write ramblings such as these.

If you'd like to see more pics from the trip, check out my Facebook photo album - you don't have to be a member of Facebook to see it.

Wednesday: Miracle on 34th Street at an old-fashioned theater in New Orleans, and quite possibly the Disney exhibit.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Touchdown in New Orleans!

Yes, I of all people made a SPORTS reference in my headline, but NO,  I did not watch the game Monday night. I was too busy writing my Fantastic Mr. Fox movie review. A critic has his priorities, ya know.

Truth be told, the game was part of the reason my first day in NOLA was fairly uneventful.

Most of my day was spent driving, and until I got to Louisiana, there wasn't much in the way of sights to see. Again I had to content myself with my nutty MP3 player, which actually made a very savvy move.

Once I got past the Louisiana border, the first Paul McCartney song my player lighted on was "Magneto and Titanium Man" from the album Venus and Mars - which was predominantly recorded in (drum roll) - New Orleans! (cymbal crash). For those of you not up on your Wings history, that's the album with the hit "Listen to What the Man Said."



 

Also, once I got into the Lousiana border, the sights became as interesting as the sounds. Parts of the highway into town actually looked very much like Florida, what with all the palm trees.  Then there was the astounding Twin Span bridge I drove across, which goes for FIVE MILES over Lake Ponchartrain.




Then there's the  Lake Ponchartrain Causeway, which spans an astounding 25 miles! I may take that on my way back north just for fun!  I've never been a water person, but I find it much more fun to be OVER the water than IN it.

Not as much fun are the drivers around here. Even after only a short time, I am convinced that the city is populated predominantly by bats out of hell. One such bat even cut me off at the exit I was supposed to take to my dad's place.  These may be the most aggressive, offensive drivers I've come across - and this is coming from someone who's driven on the freeways in Chicago AND LA.

Once I got over that misdirection, I made it to the friary where my dad lives, St. Mary of the Angels in - no kidding - the Ninth Ward. I haven't been able to take a good look around here yet, but there is still blight aplenty four years later. I'll post some pics when I get the chance.

The friary itself is actually pretty nice.  My dad is the director of religious education, here's him in his office.





And this is what my room looks like:




Yes, I put the Beatles Mono CD box there for atmosphere. Had to add my personal touch!

Alas, I didn't get a chance to sight-see. Dad reasoned that since the Saints game was Monday night, there would be a lot of fans in town. I reasoned that if the Saints won, they would be rowdy. I also reasoned that if the Saints lost, they would be rowdy AND surly. Thankfully, the team was victorious, but I was assured by a local we made the right choice taking shelter.

The rains are supposed to be pretty heavy over the next day or two, so that means indoor stuff, which is fine by me. Tuesday I hope to catch the previously referenced Disney exhibit. So pardon me for now while I go and wish upon a star.