What makes me laugh? Apparently hearing people freak out.
I was on the phone with C.I. asking about the post on Flanders and offering to do it.
It was done, it was just a matter of getting it up to the site. And the problems . . .
It was easy for me to laugh (as C.I. cursed a blue streak) because it wasn't me. But right now, I'm typing and nothing's on the screen and I'm not a fast typist.
And that's getting on my nerves. Karma? Payback?
From The Common Ills:
The Laura Flanders Show:
On Air America Radio, 7-10 PM EST
We'll begin with Election Day success stories from Dover, Pennsylvania to the state of Maine, and we'll hear how California nurses stopped the Terminator in his tracks!
Plus some sobering news about what's sparked the flames in France, and the latest on US torture tactics at Guantanamo.
Then feminist heroes HOLLY NEAR and GLORIA STEINHEM join us Live in Studio.
And Timbuk 3's BARBARA KOOYMAN goes undercover on her latest album.
If you missed Laura's LIVE Broadcast from NEW ORLEANS last weekend - You can listen to it now: Download archived shows HERE
or Subscribe to the Free PODCAST through the iTunes Music StoreGo to the Laura Flanders Blog
Remember you can listen to The Laura Flanders Show via broadcast radio (if there's an AAR in your area), via XM Satellite Radio (channel 167) or listen online.
The show's on right now (and remember it airs on Sundays too, new episodes!). Laura Flanders is feeling blue tonight. I can relate. If you can cheer her up, call in. And listen, this is a great show. I say, in the title, maybe Gloria Steinem. She's listed as a guest tonight, but if Laura mentioned her, I missed it due to C.I.'s cursing ("It won't ___ post!"). I never heard the f-word used in so many varieties as C.I. kept getting error messages while attempting to get the posts up at the site.
the laura flanders show
laura flanders
radio
gloria steinem
holly near
barbara kooyman
the common ills
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Friday, November 11, 2005
Toys
"Kat, Kat, talk to us, tell us a good story."
Well I've been o.d.ing on concerts lately. And let's face it, you can't close the clubs and still be able to blog. Something's got to give.
So we're all hanging out at my place tonight and Toni, you e-mailers will be thrilled to know this, was ragging on my case about writing here. "You gotta' write more often, Kat." Jeez, who is she? She sounds like 1 of my e-mailers.
I said, "Hey, I blog when I have something to say. I don't have nothing to say right now."
Which led to Summer noting my thing on the great Derry Daring v. Evel Knievel. He always wanted one of those Evel toys.
Which got us to talking about toys and while they're running out for various cheeses (we're making fondu), they said, "Stay and blog."
And they said I could use anything we discussed. Maggie better not get pissed because I asked twice and, let me warn you, you will be grossed out.
Toni's favorite toy was a non-Barbie Barbie. It was a knock off doll and she has no idea what it was, what company. But they didn't make a lot of black dolls and she can still remember standing in K-Mart and being so excited that she ran to get her mother. The doll had long hair that was straight and later she'd find out that the hair was just rooted in a circle which meant if the doll's hair was brushed anyway besides back off her face, she had a huge bald spot.
She had that doll forever. And, she revealed, she still has the head. The dog would get the legs every now and then and she'd have to buy another doll and take the legs off it and put them on her doll, which she named Peggy, but something happened to the body finally. She's not sure what. Her mother was moving and called her to get anything she wanted out of the house. She found a box of her toys and the doll's head was there. So she still has Peggy's head and keeps it in her jewelry box.
Dak Ho started naming things like Hot Wheels and we were all going, "Get real."
If you've had the nightmare of riding with Dak Ho behind the wheel you ain't gonna buy that. Turns out his favorite toy was Slime. I don't know if anyone will even remember that. They have Gak now, I think. But Slime came in a little plastic trash can and it was green and oozed.
I never got how anyone could be into that, honestly. But I never got the Slinky craze either.
I mean, sure it looked cool on TV. You'd be at the top of the stairs and the Slinky would go down the stairs step by step all by itself. It was a great commercial. But my brother had one and, let me tell you, not like the commerical. Not at all. It would usually go down the first step just like on TV. Then it would lean towards the wall and either get hung up there or just stop or it would tumble to the floor missing all the steps of the stairs.
Sumner had a 6 Million Dollar Man "action figure." He was very insistent that it was not a doll.
I thinkt he reason they make the Batman costumes on the dolls today is so that the boys, of all ages, can say, "It's not a doll! The clothes don't come off!"
So Sumner told us about how the right arm had roll back skin with bionic components under it. And there was a little hole in the back of the head that you looked through which was supposed to be his bionic eye. He came with a red jogging suit. Sumner says he does not have the head of his "action figure" nor does he have a jewelry box.
Which brings us to Maggie. All Maggie wanted to be growing up was Buffy. Not the Vampire Slayer. Buffy on Family Affair. And what did Buffy have? A Mrs. Beasley doll. So Maggie wanted one more than anything. Then Christmas rolled around. She got a Mrs. Beasley.
A little plastic one. Yeah, it was Mrs. Beasley, but not the stuffed one that Buffy had on the TV show. So Maggie's birthday rolls around and lo and behold, the right Mrs. Beasely.
Up until that, her favorite toy had been a little pink painted, metal cash register. Now she had her Mrs. Beasley. And you pulled a string and she would talk.
Eventually, as she got older, she quit playing with her. She just kept her in a little rocking chair in her bedroom. Here's where it gets gross.
When she was 14, Mrs. Beasley wasn't in her rocking chair. Where could she be?
She thought of her 12 year-old brother and barged into his room to find him lying on the floor, with his pants down, Mrs. Beasley beneath him.
"Ew! He was humping Mrs. Beasley!" yelled Toni.
A little worse than that.
He'd put their mother's wig on Mrs. Beasley. He'd cut a hole in her to make her "correct" and he was "in" the hole.
He'd taken out the box that made her speak. Which, if you think about it, seems incredibly hostile.
What did she do?
That's what we all wanted to know.
Maggie wanted to run to her mother and rat her little brother out. But he was humiliated and she felt like as the older sister, she should try to be understanding that, like a puppy, he was in a humping stage.
So she just told her brother to put their mother's wig back in the top drawer in their parents' room and she threw Mrs. Beasley away.
I warned you it would gross you out.
Two things to recommend. C.I.'s "NYT: 'Senate Approves Limiting Rights of U.S. Detainees' (Eric Schmitt)" and Cedric's "It's not just the young people" and everyone's back so I'm posting this. Remember to check out The Third Estate Sunday Review Sunday. Only thought I was done. Dak Ho says to note Mike's "Husaybah, Qaim and Chalabi" and Maggie says to note Rebecca's "hanging out with a friend" and Toni says to note Elaine's "Peace Never Comes To Those Who Refuse To Open Their Eyes" and Sumner says to just get done so we can start having fun.
Evel Knievel
derry daring
mikey likes it
the common ills
cedrics big mix
kats korner
sex and politics and screeds and attitude
the third estate sunday review
like maria said paz
mrs. beasley
slinky
six million dollar man
slime
toys
Well I've been o.d.ing on concerts lately. And let's face it, you can't close the clubs and still be able to blog. Something's got to give.
So we're all hanging out at my place tonight and Toni, you e-mailers will be thrilled to know this, was ragging on my case about writing here. "You gotta' write more often, Kat." Jeez, who is she? She sounds like 1 of my e-mailers.
I said, "Hey, I blog when I have something to say. I don't have nothing to say right now."
Which led to Summer noting my thing on the great Derry Daring v. Evel Knievel. He always wanted one of those Evel toys.
Which got us to talking about toys and while they're running out for various cheeses (we're making fondu), they said, "Stay and blog."
And they said I could use anything we discussed. Maggie better not get pissed because I asked twice and, let me warn you, you will be grossed out.
Toni's favorite toy was a non-Barbie Barbie. It was a knock off doll and she has no idea what it was, what company. But they didn't make a lot of black dolls and she can still remember standing in K-Mart and being so excited that she ran to get her mother. The doll had long hair that was straight and later she'd find out that the hair was just rooted in a circle which meant if the doll's hair was brushed anyway besides back off her face, she had a huge bald spot.
She had that doll forever. And, she revealed, she still has the head. The dog would get the legs every now and then and she'd have to buy another doll and take the legs off it and put them on her doll, which she named Peggy, but something happened to the body finally. She's not sure what. Her mother was moving and called her to get anything she wanted out of the house. She found a box of her toys and the doll's head was there. So she still has Peggy's head and keeps it in her jewelry box.
Dak Ho started naming things like Hot Wheels and we were all going, "Get real."
If you've had the nightmare of riding with Dak Ho behind the wheel you ain't gonna buy that. Turns out his favorite toy was Slime. I don't know if anyone will even remember that. They have Gak now, I think. But Slime came in a little plastic trash can and it was green and oozed.
I never got how anyone could be into that, honestly. But I never got the Slinky craze either.
I mean, sure it looked cool on TV. You'd be at the top of the stairs and the Slinky would go down the stairs step by step all by itself. It was a great commercial. But my brother had one and, let me tell you, not like the commerical. Not at all. It would usually go down the first step just like on TV. Then it would lean towards the wall and either get hung up there or just stop or it would tumble to the floor missing all the steps of the stairs.
Sumner had a 6 Million Dollar Man "action figure." He was very insistent that it was not a doll.
I thinkt he reason they make the Batman costumes on the dolls today is so that the boys, of all ages, can say, "It's not a doll! The clothes don't come off!"
So Sumner told us about how the right arm had roll back skin with bionic components under it. And there was a little hole in the back of the head that you looked through which was supposed to be his bionic eye. He came with a red jogging suit. Sumner says he does not have the head of his "action figure" nor does he have a jewelry box.
Which brings us to Maggie. All Maggie wanted to be growing up was Buffy. Not the Vampire Slayer. Buffy on Family Affair. And what did Buffy have? A Mrs. Beasley doll. So Maggie wanted one more than anything. Then Christmas rolled around. She got a Mrs. Beasley.
A little plastic one. Yeah, it was Mrs. Beasley, but not the stuffed one that Buffy had on the TV show. So Maggie's birthday rolls around and lo and behold, the right Mrs. Beasely.
Up until that, her favorite toy had been a little pink painted, metal cash register. Now she had her Mrs. Beasley. And you pulled a string and she would talk.
Eventually, as she got older, she quit playing with her. She just kept her in a little rocking chair in her bedroom. Here's where it gets gross.
When she was 14, Mrs. Beasley wasn't in her rocking chair. Where could she be?
She thought of her 12 year-old brother and barged into his room to find him lying on the floor, with his pants down, Mrs. Beasley beneath him.
"Ew! He was humping Mrs. Beasley!" yelled Toni.
A little worse than that.
He'd put their mother's wig on Mrs. Beasley. He'd cut a hole in her to make her "correct" and he was "in" the hole.
He'd taken out the box that made her speak. Which, if you think about it, seems incredibly hostile.
What did she do?
That's what we all wanted to know.
Maggie wanted to run to her mother and rat her little brother out. But he was humiliated and she felt like as the older sister, she should try to be understanding that, like a puppy, he was in a humping stage.
So she just told her brother to put their mother's wig back in the top drawer in their parents' room and she threw Mrs. Beasley away.
I warned you it would gross you out.
Two things to recommend. C.I.'s "NYT: 'Senate Approves Limiting Rights of U.S. Detainees' (Eric Schmitt)" and Cedric's "It's not just the young people" and everyone's back so I'm posting this. Remember to check out The Third Estate Sunday Review Sunday. Only thought I was done. Dak Ho says to note Mike's "Husaybah, Qaim and Chalabi" and Maggie says to note Rebecca's "hanging out with a friend" and Toni says to note Elaine's "Peace Never Comes To Those Who Refuse To Open Their Eyes" and Sumner says to just get done so we can start having fun.
Evel Knievel
derry daring
mikey likes it
the common ills
cedrics big mix
kats korner
sex and politics and screeds and attitude
the third estate sunday review
like maria said paz
mrs. beasley
slinky
six million dollar man
slime
toys
Monday, November 07, 2005
Stevie Wonder review and thoughts re: blogging
"Where you been, Kat? Where you been, Kat?"
When I read those e-mails I start feeling like I'm the last gunslinger in the Wild West, just blowing into town only to have Johnny Crawford come running up to me tugging on my sleeve.
I was working on the Stevie Wonder album review that I finally finished on Thursday night of last week. Saturday night/Sunday morning, I was helping out The Third Estate Sunday Review.
So contrary to Josie's opinion, I haven't just been "blowing everything off." Though thanks for the kind thoughts, Josie.
The Stevie Wonder review was a pain in the ass. I really like Stevie Wonder's music. I usually enjoy his lyrics. On A Time to Love, the lyrics are embarrassingly bad. I don't usually make a point to write a review slagging someone and when the someone's someone whose music I love, I have to really think, "Do I want to write this review?"
I did want to because a) the music is good and b) the lyrics are so awful and it needed saying.
I wrote a draft two Sundays ago and polished it Monday. C.I. was sick and I didn't e-mail it in because I didn't want to be a drag when someone was sick.
Then Tuesday, Toni, Maggie and I bumped into an old club friend who'd just discovered the new version of EST (new? it's been around for at least a decade). She was embarrassing herself with all this nonsense spouting from her lips. And as a sidenote, she tells us she's now a holy roller as well. (Though the dress down to her ankles could have tipped us off to that change -- this is a woman who once felt a top that didn't at least hint at the promise of spillage wasn't worth wearing.)
So I called C.I. Tuesday to check up and C.I. was still sick but could tell I was ticked off and I ended up going into meeting the old club buddy. C.I. said, "She sounds like Stevie Wonder's lyrics." She did.
And I knew I had to include the meeting in the review.
I started rewriting it on Wednesday and by Thursday morning, after an all nighter, I had an epic. I ran it past C.I. for editing because it was so long. C.I. said, "Kat, it's fine at this length."
I wanted it tightened up and I was too close to edit.
So C.I. took a swipe at it and offered some suggestions. I said "More" and after three times, it was down to a workable length. I'm really proud of this review (thank you to C.I. for the editing help) and that might just be because I know how mammoth it was.
It would have put everyone to sleep. But I think the edited version works so much better. And the best suggestion C.I. made was to open with a paragraph I had buried after the half-way point of the first draft. Moving that paragraph up to the top really kicked off the review and clues people in on where I stand on the album.
I really felt, and still do, that it was an artist whose work I admired too much. And it became a pain in the ass to write anything about it. But I'm proud of what went up. (And I'll put the review into this post in case you missed it at The Common Ills.)
Most people who know my album reviews know that I love Green Day. A new Rolling Stone came in the mail with Billie Joe Armstrong on the cover and I was too busy thinking about and then writing the review to even open it up. Then I was busy this weekend so the point here is, no I haven't blogged here, but I haven't even opened the latest Rolling Stone.
By the way, I thanked C.I. but I also need to thank Rebecca and her ex-husband because I read the final version of it (after C.I. made suggestions on editing) to them and when I still wasn't sure what I thought of the review, they were very supportive.
I'll also add that I did a post at The Common Ills Saturday and had planned to cross post that here; however, a friend called and I ended yacking on the phone (she'd just seen the Stones in concert the night before). Next thing I knew, The Laura Flanders Show had already started and that's what the post was about so there wasn't much point in cross posting it at that point.
So that's what I've been up to. I know Elaine got ragged that "none of you are blogging!" and I don't think Elaine deserved that crap. She never blogs on Thursdays because she's running a group on that night. She missed another day due to The World Can't Wait rally. When there's a big protest mid-week, you either go and get counted or you stick to your schedule. I think it was more important for Elaine to be at a rally. I went to one myself.
But during the "no one's blogging" you did have C.I. doing entries several times a day (despite being sick), you had Mike and Rebecca blogging every day. You had Wally blogging every day except Friday when he had to help an elderly woman next to his grandfather's house pack up her things because she was going to stay with some family due to the fact that, like so many in South Florida, she still didn't have electricity. On top of that Seth blogged twice.
So I think the "no one's blogging!" was a bit overstated.
We've talked about picking days to blog and I've resisted that because if I don't have anything to say, I don't have anything to say. But if that's the reaction when Cedric's not able to blog much and I'm not and Betty's having trouble writing a chapter she can live with posting, maybe we need to set up a schedule?
I don't like the idea. Seems to much like a deadline to me and I prefer it to be a bit more free form. But to be honest, I was pissed that Elaine got the amount of e-mails she got griping about the lack of posts. I'm still pissed about it.
I get stuff like that and blow it off. Elaine will try to see the person's point of view and then examine whether there's validity to it or not. So just thinking about the time she probably spent weighing everything pissed me off. She said when she started that she wouldn't be doing a daily blog and as it is, she blogs four to five times a week.
She didn't think she had the time and really wasn't keen on blogging but when her spell substituting for Rebecca, who was on vacation, was winding down everyone was e-mailing and saying, "Please keep blogging." So she went ahead and started up a site and then the reaction when she misses one day (Thursdays aren't missed, she announced on her site that she wouldn't be blogging on Thursdays through Decemember), she gets all this crap.
To quote myself, it is what it is.
Poor Wally's in South Florida with his grandfather and he misses one day because he's helping a neighbor pack up to leave and go somewhere she can have lights and a hot bath and suddenly it's "Wally's slacking off!"
Most of the e-mail Elaine got was from readers of her site and not Common Ills community members. But one guy who was a member did write to her to complain and was all on her case about letting the community down and I just thought, "Hey dude, start your own site and quit attacking Lanie."
Let me repeat, it is what it is.
If you think it needs to be more often, start your own site. If you're a member of the community, I'll link to you.
So let me steer you to a funny thing at The Third Estate Sunday Review because I feel like the lecture here should go out on a positive note. We wanted to deal with a vareity of "lefties" on the net who don't come off very "lefty." I was talking to Jess today about the new Jackson Browne album and he tells me someone wrote in asking why we attacked Barbra Streisand. We didn't.
Those comments are in there to demonstrate why some "lefty" voices don't seem very "lefty" at all.
Okay, here's my Stevie Wonder review:
Kat's Korner "A Time To Dance"
Diana Ross and I parted ways over Working Overtime. I could go with the new look (smudged make up, torn jeans) and could even take the jerky title track. What I couldn't take was an album that felt repeating a bromide over and over qualified for lyrics (and "meaning"). As high priestess of love, Diana didn't cut it. Apparently she's passed the robes to Stevie. They don't fit him any better than they did her.
I say that to say: Put on Stevie Wonder's A Time To Love to shake your ass.Make that your priority and you can't go wrong.
I rushed to Tower the day A Time to Love came out and snapped up my copy. I went home and listened and was despondent to the point of contemplating if I should draw up a will? Then I threw a party and one of the albums playing was A Time to Love.
You can dance to this album.
That's no easy trick. With all the "beats" and name producers, the Disney Kids' hollow product still can't keep you dancing for an entire CD. Stevie is still the "Master Blaster." That's worth noting.
"So Kat, how come you ain't real high on the album?"
Well, for one thing, I've never been fond of romantic duets between father and daughter. Frank and Nancy Sinatra's "Something Stupid" was dubbed "the incest song." Natalie Cole and Nat King Cole carried on the tradition thanks to the "miracle" of techonology. "Unforgettable" stormed the charts but it was creepy as hell and played less like a tribute and more like a struggling artist's attempt to get a hit. (No, I don't mean Nat King Cole.)
On A Time To Love, "How Will I Know" carries on the creepy tradition. It's not a remake of the Whitney Houston hit which might make sense -- the father (Stevie) advising his daughter (Aisha Morris) to "trust your heart." Instead, they trade lines like "How will I know he loves me" and "How will I know she cares" which will creep you out unless you're from an extreme let-it-all-hang-out family.
Before the next parent-child duo contemplates recording a love duet, a bit of advice: DON'T!That's not the only problem. "From The Bottom Of My Heart" attempts to build a song over a single musical hook. The problem with that is most of us already know "I Just Called To Say I Love You." If we want to hear that song, we'll listen to it.
At six minutes plus, "If Your Love Cannot Be Moved" tests your will if you're just listening. If you're dancing, you can get into the music and ignore the fact that Stevie's tossing off sentences the way INXS tosses flashcards in their video for "New Sensation" (which cribbed from Bob Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues" film footage). It adds up to nothing so move that rear and those feet but don't think.
You're better off not thinking throughout the album or you'll be depressed that, as Stevie Wonder runs through another decade as a recording artist, he has nothing to say lyrically.
Tuesday, I learned that a friend had joined the latest version of EST (you all probably know exactly what program I'm referring to). She was full of "You don't know what you don't know" and other drippy sayings that most of us burned out of our systems over bong hits in our teenage years.
I was with Maggie and Toni and we tried to show enthusiasm; however, as the woman continued saying the most trite things as though they possed levels and levels of meanings, Maggie began to giggle, then Toni, and finally I burst out laughing.
"You just don't get it!" the woman shouted storming off.
Yeah, we got it. Self-education for self-interest for the self-focused. Really juvenile. Most of us outgrow it. We look for connections via activism or religion or sex or some combination of the three. We don't sit in a room for hours with no bathroom breaks passing off trite as a journey.
Stevie may not have signed up for those courses but he could certainly teach them. "Love is all that matters" seems to be the theme of this album. It was a pretty good Diane Warren song. But for a man of Stevie Wonder's talents, and presumed wisdom, we expect a little more than greeting cards. There's no "Living for the City" here. There's no "Pastime Paradise" (though the music gets ripped off). The lyrics are the most basic, most banal you could imagine.
Look it, we do need more love today, no question. C.I. and I were at the same World Can't Wait rally and we were doing riffs on "World Can't Wait" ("She needs love"). But Stevie seems to use love in the most generic sense (and most obvious) while expecting the listeners to add their own meaning. Since the album comes with no Lyrics Helper, he's asking a lot.
By the last track on the album, the title song, you get the idea that maybe he should have taken a few more years on this album. The first song tries to say something, the last song is working towards something. It's about love for one another and our interconnectedness. But in the midst of these fifteen songs, Stevie wants to take a long, side trip into bland love celebrated by bland lyrics. (It's as though Stevie's been possed by Paul McCartney.)
"So Kat, you're saying stay away from this album?"
No. I'm saying get it for the music. This isn't sterile music. The lyrics are, but the music is full blooded, breathing. "Moon Blue" is probably the most effective marriage of lyrics and music but if you can ignore the other lyrics and focus on the music, you can really get into this album. Stevie's vocals are strong. He seems to have lost some of his soaring high notes (or is reluctant to use them) but there's a bottom to the voice that's firmer than anything you're probably used to from him.
Shake your ass and appreciate the fact that Stevie knows how to write music and knows how it should be performed.
Maybe after "As," "Supersition," "Pastime Paradise," "Isn't She Lovely," "Overjoyed," "Higher Ground," "That Girl" and assorted others, Stevie's said all he can lyrically?Bruce Springsteen, though I love him, is not a singer like Stevie Wonder. He can't hide a clunker (such as when he sings one of his favorite phrases -- "wee wee hours"). One of the great joys of The Cowboy Junkies Early 21st Century Blues is hearing things in the lyrics to "Brothers Under The Bridge" and "You're Missing" that you didn't hear before. Margo Timmins haunting vocals add something to those songs. And I have to wonder what A Time To Love would have been like if Stevie had recorded one of those songs or Dylan's "License to Kill"? Or, for that matter, if he reteamed with Syreeta and let her provide some lyrics?
It'll make you sad if you start thinking about it too much (provided you're a Stevie Wonder fan -- I am), about how we've got two wars waging and we've got an administration and a Congress that seems completely uninterested in renewing the Voting Rights Act, a social net that's been brutalized and letting so many slip through, a war built upon lies, and all the fifty-five year old Stevie Wonder wants to write about is "You lift me to the sky/ When I'm flat on the ground" ("Tell Your Heart I Love You") and "Every time I thought I found you/ I was oh so wrong" ("True Love"). If a sixteen-year-old Debbie Gibson turned out these lyrics, you'd be embarrassed for her. Maybe the lyrical well's run dry, maybe he's a master teacher in the latest version of EST, or maybe he's suffering from a midlife crisis?
Whatever it is, the lyrics aren't worth your time. But if you pump up the bass, ignore the words and shake that ass, you can find hours of enjoyment in this album.
the common ills
seth in the city
sex and politics and screeds and attitude
like maria said paz
the third estate sunday review
cedrics big mix
mikey likes it
the daily jot
kats korner
thomas friedman is a great man
stevie wonder
a time to love
the cowboy junkies
cowboy junkies
diana ross
bruce springsteen
early 21st century blues
bob dylan
inxs
green day
the laura flanders show
laura flanders
When I read those e-mails I start feeling like I'm the last gunslinger in the Wild West, just blowing into town only to have Johnny Crawford come running up to me tugging on my sleeve.
I was working on the Stevie Wonder album review that I finally finished on Thursday night of last week. Saturday night/Sunday morning, I was helping out The Third Estate Sunday Review.
So contrary to Josie's opinion, I haven't just been "blowing everything off." Though thanks for the kind thoughts, Josie.
The Stevie Wonder review was a pain in the ass. I really like Stevie Wonder's music. I usually enjoy his lyrics. On A Time to Love, the lyrics are embarrassingly bad. I don't usually make a point to write a review slagging someone and when the someone's someone whose music I love, I have to really think, "Do I want to write this review?"
I did want to because a) the music is good and b) the lyrics are so awful and it needed saying.
I wrote a draft two Sundays ago and polished it Monday. C.I. was sick and I didn't e-mail it in because I didn't want to be a drag when someone was sick.
Then Tuesday, Toni, Maggie and I bumped into an old club friend who'd just discovered the new version of EST (new? it's been around for at least a decade). She was embarrassing herself with all this nonsense spouting from her lips. And as a sidenote, she tells us she's now a holy roller as well. (Though the dress down to her ankles could have tipped us off to that change -- this is a woman who once felt a top that didn't at least hint at the promise of spillage wasn't worth wearing.)
So I called C.I. Tuesday to check up and C.I. was still sick but could tell I was ticked off and I ended up going into meeting the old club buddy. C.I. said, "She sounds like Stevie Wonder's lyrics." She did.
And I knew I had to include the meeting in the review.
I started rewriting it on Wednesday and by Thursday morning, after an all nighter, I had an epic. I ran it past C.I. for editing because it was so long. C.I. said, "Kat, it's fine at this length."
I wanted it tightened up and I was too close to edit.
So C.I. took a swipe at it and offered some suggestions. I said "More" and after three times, it was down to a workable length. I'm really proud of this review (thank you to C.I. for the editing help) and that might just be because I know how mammoth it was.
It would have put everyone to sleep. But I think the edited version works so much better. And the best suggestion C.I. made was to open with a paragraph I had buried after the half-way point of the first draft. Moving that paragraph up to the top really kicked off the review and clues people in on where I stand on the album.
I really felt, and still do, that it was an artist whose work I admired too much. And it became a pain in the ass to write anything about it. But I'm proud of what went up. (And I'll put the review into this post in case you missed it at The Common Ills.)
Most people who know my album reviews know that I love Green Day. A new Rolling Stone came in the mail with Billie Joe Armstrong on the cover and I was too busy thinking about and then writing the review to even open it up. Then I was busy this weekend so the point here is, no I haven't blogged here, but I haven't even opened the latest Rolling Stone.
By the way, I thanked C.I. but I also need to thank Rebecca and her ex-husband because I read the final version of it (after C.I. made suggestions on editing) to them and when I still wasn't sure what I thought of the review, they were very supportive.
I'll also add that I did a post at The Common Ills Saturday and had planned to cross post that here; however, a friend called and I ended yacking on the phone (she'd just seen the Stones in concert the night before). Next thing I knew, The Laura Flanders Show had already started and that's what the post was about so there wasn't much point in cross posting it at that point.
So that's what I've been up to. I know Elaine got ragged that "none of you are blogging!" and I don't think Elaine deserved that crap. She never blogs on Thursdays because she's running a group on that night. She missed another day due to The World Can't Wait rally. When there's a big protest mid-week, you either go and get counted or you stick to your schedule. I think it was more important for Elaine to be at a rally. I went to one myself.
But during the "no one's blogging" you did have C.I. doing entries several times a day (despite being sick), you had Mike and Rebecca blogging every day. You had Wally blogging every day except Friday when he had to help an elderly woman next to his grandfather's house pack up her things because she was going to stay with some family due to the fact that, like so many in South Florida, she still didn't have electricity. On top of that Seth blogged twice.
So I think the "no one's blogging!" was a bit overstated.
We've talked about picking days to blog and I've resisted that because if I don't have anything to say, I don't have anything to say. But if that's the reaction when Cedric's not able to blog much and I'm not and Betty's having trouble writing a chapter she can live with posting, maybe we need to set up a schedule?
I don't like the idea. Seems to much like a deadline to me and I prefer it to be a bit more free form. But to be honest, I was pissed that Elaine got the amount of e-mails she got griping about the lack of posts. I'm still pissed about it.
I get stuff like that and blow it off. Elaine will try to see the person's point of view and then examine whether there's validity to it or not. So just thinking about the time she probably spent weighing everything pissed me off. She said when she started that she wouldn't be doing a daily blog and as it is, she blogs four to five times a week.
She didn't think she had the time and really wasn't keen on blogging but when her spell substituting for Rebecca, who was on vacation, was winding down everyone was e-mailing and saying, "Please keep blogging." So she went ahead and started up a site and then the reaction when she misses one day (Thursdays aren't missed, she announced on her site that she wouldn't be blogging on Thursdays through Decemember), she gets all this crap.
To quote myself, it is what it is.
Poor Wally's in South Florida with his grandfather and he misses one day because he's helping a neighbor pack up to leave and go somewhere she can have lights and a hot bath and suddenly it's "Wally's slacking off!"
Most of the e-mail Elaine got was from readers of her site and not Common Ills community members. But one guy who was a member did write to her to complain and was all on her case about letting the community down and I just thought, "Hey dude, start your own site and quit attacking Lanie."
Let me repeat, it is what it is.
If you think it needs to be more often, start your own site. If you're a member of the community, I'll link to you.
So let me steer you to a funny thing at The Third Estate Sunday Review because I feel like the lecture here should go out on a positive note. We wanted to deal with a vareity of "lefties" on the net who don't come off very "lefty." I was talking to Jess today about the new Jackson Browne album and he tells me someone wrote in asking why we attacked Barbra Streisand. We didn't.
Those comments are in there to demonstrate why some "lefty" voices don't seem very "lefty" at all.
Okay, here's my Stevie Wonder review:
Kat's Korner "A Time To Dance"
Diana Ross and I parted ways over Working Overtime. I could go with the new look (smudged make up, torn jeans) and could even take the jerky title track. What I couldn't take was an album that felt repeating a bromide over and over qualified for lyrics (and "meaning"). As high priestess of love, Diana didn't cut it. Apparently she's passed the robes to Stevie. They don't fit him any better than they did her.
I say that to say: Put on Stevie Wonder's A Time To Love to shake your ass.Make that your priority and you can't go wrong.
I rushed to Tower the day A Time to Love came out and snapped up my copy. I went home and listened and was despondent to the point of contemplating if I should draw up a will? Then I threw a party and one of the albums playing was A Time to Love.
You can dance to this album.
That's no easy trick. With all the "beats" and name producers, the Disney Kids' hollow product still can't keep you dancing for an entire CD. Stevie is still the "Master Blaster." That's worth noting.
"So Kat, how come you ain't real high on the album?"
Well, for one thing, I've never been fond of romantic duets between father and daughter. Frank and Nancy Sinatra's "Something Stupid" was dubbed "the incest song." Natalie Cole and Nat King Cole carried on the tradition thanks to the "miracle" of techonology. "Unforgettable" stormed the charts but it was creepy as hell and played less like a tribute and more like a struggling artist's attempt to get a hit. (No, I don't mean Nat King Cole.)
On A Time To Love, "How Will I Know" carries on the creepy tradition. It's not a remake of the Whitney Houston hit which might make sense -- the father (Stevie) advising his daughter (Aisha Morris) to "trust your heart." Instead, they trade lines like "How will I know he loves me" and "How will I know she cares" which will creep you out unless you're from an extreme let-it-all-hang-out family.
Before the next parent-child duo contemplates recording a love duet, a bit of advice: DON'T!That's not the only problem. "From The Bottom Of My Heart" attempts to build a song over a single musical hook. The problem with that is most of us already know "I Just Called To Say I Love You." If we want to hear that song, we'll listen to it.
At six minutes plus, "If Your Love Cannot Be Moved" tests your will if you're just listening. If you're dancing, you can get into the music and ignore the fact that Stevie's tossing off sentences the way INXS tosses flashcards in their video for "New Sensation" (which cribbed from Bob Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues" film footage). It adds up to nothing so move that rear and those feet but don't think.
You're better off not thinking throughout the album or you'll be depressed that, as Stevie Wonder runs through another decade as a recording artist, he has nothing to say lyrically.
Tuesday, I learned that a friend had joined the latest version of EST (you all probably know exactly what program I'm referring to). She was full of "You don't know what you don't know" and other drippy sayings that most of us burned out of our systems over bong hits in our teenage years.
I was with Maggie and Toni and we tried to show enthusiasm; however, as the woman continued saying the most trite things as though they possed levels and levels of meanings, Maggie began to giggle, then Toni, and finally I burst out laughing.
"You just don't get it!" the woman shouted storming off.
Yeah, we got it. Self-education for self-interest for the self-focused. Really juvenile. Most of us outgrow it. We look for connections via activism or religion or sex or some combination of the three. We don't sit in a room for hours with no bathroom breaks passing off trite as a journey.
Stevie may not have signed up for those courses but he could certainly teach them. "Love is all that matters" seems to be the theme of this album. It was a pretty good Diane Warren song. But for a man of Stevie Wonder's talents, and presumed wisdom, we expect a little more than greeting cards. There's no "Living for the City" here. There's no "Pastime Paradise" (though the music gets ripped off). The lyrics are the most basic, most banal you could imagine.
Look it, we do need more love today, no question. C.I. and I were at the same World Can't Wait rally and we were doing riffs on "World Can't Wait" ("She needs love"). But Stevie seems to use love in the most generic sense (and most obvious) while expecting the listeners to add their own meaning. Since the album comes with no Lyrics Helper, he's asking a lot.
By the last track on the album, the title song, you get the idea that maybe he should have taken a few more years on this album. The first song tries to say something, the last song is working towards something. It's about love for one another and our interconnectedness. But in the midst of these fifteen songs, Stevie wants to take a long, side trip into bland love celebrated by bland lyrics. (It's as though Stevie's been possed by Paul McCartney.)
"So Kat, you're saying stay away from this album?"
No. I'm saying get it for the music. This isn't sterile music. The lyrics are, but the music is full blooded, breathing. "Moon Blue" is probably the most effective marriage of lyrics and music but if you can ignore the other lyrics and focus on the music, you can really get into this album. Stevie's vocals are strong. He seems to have lost some of his soaring high notes (or is reluctant to use them) but there's a bottom to the voice that's firmer than anything you're probably used to from him.
Shake your ass and appreciate the fact that Stevie knows how to write music and knows how it should be performed.
Maybe after "As," "Supersition," "Pastime Paradise," "Isn't She Lovely," "Overjoyed," "Higher Ground," "That Girl" and assorted others, Stevie's said all he can lyrically?Bruce Springsteen, though I love him, is not a singer like Stevie Wonder. He can't hide a clunker (such as when he sings one of his favorite phrases -- "wee wee hours"). One of the great joys of The Cowboy Junkies Early 21st Century Blues is hearing things in the lyrics to "Brothers Under The Bridge" and "You're Missing" that you didn't hear before. Margo Timmins haunting vocals add something to those songs. And I have to wonder what A Time To Love would have been like if Stevie had recorded one of those songs or Dylan's "License to Kill"? Or, for that matter, if he reteamed with Syreeta and let her provide some lyrics?
It'll make you sad if you start thinking about it too much (provided you're a Stevie Wonder fan -- I am), about how we've got two wars waging and we've got an administration and a Congress that seems completely uninterested in renewing the Voting Rights Act, a social net that's been brutalized and letting so many slip through, a war built upon lies, and all the fifty-five year old Stevie Wonder wants to write about is "You lift me to the sky/ When I'm flat on the ground" ("Tell Your Heart I Love You") and "Every time I thought I found you/ I was oh so wrong" ("True Love"). If a sixteen-year-old Debbie Gibson turned out these lyrics, you'd be embarrassed for her. Maybe the lyrical well's run dry, maybe he's a master teacher in the latest version of EST, or maybe he's suffering from a midlife crisis?
Whatever it is, the lyrics aren't worth your time. But if you pump up the bass, ignore the words and shake that ass, you can find hours of enjoyment in this album.
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stevie wonder
a time to love
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