- "Why Try to Change Me Now?" written by Cy Coleman and Joseph McCarthy; performed by Honi Gordon, from Honi Gordon Sings (1962)
Showing posts with label 1962. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1962. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 10, 2017
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
Love Letters
Like a lot of people, I like finding new music in movies. There are certain directors whose films I can always count on for a good soundtrack (Cameron Crowe, Wes Anderson, Jim Jarmusch, Sofia Coppola come most immediately to mind). And it just so happens that most of those filmmakers also happen to make my favorite movies.
Music, it goes without saying, has immense emotional power for a lot of people. It can have--again, this is rather obvious, but bear with me--tremendous impact on a visual film sequence. I mean, think of the shower scene in Psycho, and how incomplete that would have been without Bernard Hermann's startlingly creepy score. A director's choice of music creates an entire atmosphere, and it's disorienting to watch such musically-involved scenes on mute. In short, they're much different, and oftentimes much less affecting to a viewer.
I first heard this song, "Love Letters," at the end of Blue Velvet by David Lynch. It's one of my all-time favorite movies. The song itself was originally sung by Ketty Lester, who has unfortunately descended into the footnotes of pop history. As for the song's place in the movie, I can't talk much about that relationship without spoiling the plot of the film. Suffice it to say that, incredibly, David Lynch unites big themes in the movie, like the idea of violence as a means of possession and control, simply by placing this innocent song alongside footage of a shoot-out between two opposing forces. The idea, from an earlier scene, is that a love letter and a bullet from a gun are nearly the same thing, which has a whole slew of complicated and intriguing implications for the relationship between desire and violence, if you ask me.
Of course, if you're hearing the song out of the context of Blue Velvet, and instead listen to it simply as a standalone piece, the experience is much different. It's much simpler, and sweeter, and comes across as little more than a sappy love song. But a good one. And there's a place in the world for sappy, sweet, simplistic love songs.
And if this is all too verbose, as I tend to be, watch Blue Velvet (if you aren't terribly put-off by representations of violence) and listen to this song. I promise, it's worth the small chunk of time you will spend.
Music, it goes without saying, has immense emotional power for a lot of people. It can have--again, this is rather obvious, but bear with me--tremendous impact on a visual film sequence. I mean, think of the shower scene in Psycho, and how incomplete that would have been without Bernard Hermann's startlingly creepy score. A director's choice of music creates an entire atmosphere, and it's disorienting to watch such musically-involved scenes on mute. In short, they're much different, and oftentimes much less affecting to a viewer.
I first heard this song, "Love Letters," at the end of Blue Velvet by David Lynch. It's one of my all-time favorite movies. The song itself was originally sung by Ketty Lester, who has unfortunately descended into the footnotes of pop history. As for the song's place in the movie, I can't talk much about that relationship without spoiling the plot of the film. Suffice it to say that, incredibly, David Lynch unites big themes in the movie, like the idea of violence as a means of possession and control, simply by placing this innocent song alongside footage of a shoot-out between two opposing forces. The idea, from an earlier scene, is that a love letter and a bullet from a gun are nearly the same thing, which has a whole slew of complicated and intriguing implications for the relationship between desire and violence, if you ask me.
Of course, if you're hearing the song out of the context of Blue Velvet, and instead listen to it simply as a standalone piece, the experience is much different. It's much simpler, and sweeter, and comes across as little more than a sappy love song. But a good one. And there's a place in the world for sappy, sweet, simplistic love songs.
And if this is all too verbose, as I tend to be, watch Blue Velvet (if you aren't terribly put-off by representations of violence) and listen to this song. I promise, it's worth the small chunk of time you will spend.
-Ketty Lester, "Love Letters" (1962)
Monday, September 1, 2014
Summer Song
Another summer has come and gone, and as I prepare to resume classes tomorrow, I'm reflecting on what this summer has meant to me. It's been restorative and productive, and I feel like I am entering a new school year with an improved perspective on all manner of things. My attitude is brighter, and my mood lighter, and I'm going to ride this wave of optimism into the academic year for as long as I'm able.
As a proper goodbye to the season (which is really more of an idea than anything), here is a classic: "Summer Song," from the musical The Real Ambassadors. The music was written by Dave Brubeck, one of my favorite jazz pianists, and the lyrics by his wife Iola. Perhaps most importantly, Louis Armstrong performs vocals on the song, which collaboration just sounds meant-to-be.
Though the musical was only performed once, in a pared-down set at the 1962 Monterey Jazz Festival, recordings of its soundtrack are still available, and its examination of themes like international- and race-relations is still achingly relevant, even over fifty years later. I think in particular of Michael Brown being shot in Ferguson, and of the greater underlying tensions that long-preceded the shooting, as well as the Russian-Ukrainian conflict that further complicated this summer with the shoot-down of Malaysia Airlines Flight 17. These events probably come to mind simply because they were two of the biggest news stories of the summer, and it's easy for me to think about them in a cerebral and abstract manner--after all, I don't have to face systematic and societal discrimination because of my skin color, or live in a war zone where my safety is perpetually endangered.
But that's all a much bigger, longer, complex conversation, one much beyond a single, simple song. Returning to the music, there's even a Real Ambassadors website with a synopsis and background in case you'd like to read more about it.
Anyhow, enough babbling. Here's "Summer Song:"
As a proper goodbye to the season (which is really more of an idea than anything), here is a classic: "Summer Song," from the musical The Real Ambassadors. The music was written by Dave Brubeck, one of my favorite jazz pianists, and the lyrics by his wife Iola. Perhaps most importantly, Louis Armstrong performs vocals on the song, which collaboration just sounds meant-to-be.
Though the musical was only performed once, in a pared-down set at the 1962 Monterey Jazz Festival, recordings of its soundtrack are still available, and its examination of themes like international- and race-relations is still achingly relevant, even over fifty years later. I think in particular of Michael Brown being shot in Ferguson, and of the greater underlying tensions that long-preceded the shooting, as well as the Russian-Ukrainian conflict that further complicated this summer with the shoot-down of Malaysia Airlines Flight 17. These events probably come to mind simply because they were two of the biggest news stories of the summer, and it's easy for me to think about them in a cerebral and abstract manner--after all, I don't have to face systematic and societal discrimination because of my skin color, or live in a war zone where my safety is perpetually endangered.
But that's all a much bigger, longer, complex conversation, one much beyond a single, simple song. Returning to the music, there's even a Real Ambassadors website with a synopsis and background in case you'd like to read more about it.
Anyhow, enough babbling. Here's "Summer Song:"
Monday, July 28, 2014
Grand Junction, Colorado
Yet another day of driving, this time across Utah and into Colorado, where we ended up in Grand Junction for the night. I walked around town for a bit when we got here and happened upon a one-hour photo place (those still even exist?) called Snap Photo. I've only shot like two rolls of 35mm on this trip, but I'm going to stop by in the morning and see if I can't get them developed before we leave town because I have a hard time being patient. Fingers crossed!
But today was a really nice day. My dad and I crossed the Great Salt Flats and visited Saltair (which is not actually the original building). Some brief background, in case you're in the dark like I was:
Saltair was originally built in the late 1800's as an amusement park on the shores of the Great Salt Lake. Misfortune (and fire) befell the place again and again, and after reconstruction and several revival attempts, it burned down for good thanks to arson in the 1960's. A concert hall, modeled after the original architecture of the Saltair, now sits about a mile down the shore from where the original structure was first constructed. If that's not enough history for you, Wikipedia's there to help.
Anywho, we stopped there because--and this interest is fairly prototypical of my family--the park was used in the 1962 film Carnival of Souls, which is a wonderfully eerie gem that's been lost in the annals of horror history. Its influence on contemporary cinema is fairly remarkable; George Romero once even said that it was the film that inspired him to make Night of the Living Dead, which ghouls gave way to the zombies Romero crafted in Dawn of the Dead. Which is basically a roundabout way of saying that zombies, as they stand as a contemporary cultural phenomenon, might not exist were it not for this film. And all of that disregarded, it's just a darn-good horror film that scares my pants off every time.
Anyway, if I did a good job selling it at all, here's a poor-quality version of the full movie on YouTube, courtesy of the public domain:
After we left the moderately-depressing site of Saltair, we passed through Salt Lake City, saw some mountain storms, and listened to The Association, which was one of my dad's favorite groups back in the day. I'd never really listened to them before, but they have some super-smooth melodies and harmonies. It was rewarding to see the look on my dad's face when I pulled up their music on the stereo, because he hadn't heard them since he was in school. Here's a video of them performing the song "Along Comes Mary" on the Smothers Brothers; it's pretty wonderful if you ask me.
And that's all I've got for today, so here are some photos from the road!
But today was a really nice day. My dad and I crossed the Great Salt Flats and visited Saltair (which is not actually the original building). Some brief background, in case you're in the dark like I was:
Saltair was originally built in the late 1800's as an amusement park on the shores of the Great Salt Lake. Misfortune (and fire) befell the place again and again, and after reconstruction and several revival attempts, it burned down for good thanks to arson in the 1960's. A concert hall, modeled after the original architecture of the Saltair, now sits about a mile down the shore from where the original structure was first constructed. If that's not enough history for you, Wikipedia's there to help.
Anywho, we stopped there because--and this interest is fairly prototypical of my family--the park was used in the 1962 film Carnival of Souls, which is a wonderfully eerie gem that's been lost in the annals of horror history. Its influence on contemporary cinema is fairly remarkable; George Romero once even said that it was the film that inspired him to make Night of the Living Dead, which ghouls gave way to the zombies Romero crafted in Dawn of the Dead. Which is basically a roundabout way of saying that zombies, as they stand as a contemporary cultural phenomenon, might not exist were it not for this film. And all of that disregarded, it's just a darn-good horror film that scares my pants off every time.
Anyway, if I did a good job selling it at all, here's a poor-quality version of the full movie on YouTube, courtesy of the public domain:
After we left the moderately-depressing site of Saltair, we passed through Salt Lake City, saw some mountain storms, and listened to The Association, which was one of my dad's favorite groups back in the day. I'd never really listened to them before, but they have some super-smooth melodies and harmonies. It was rewarding to see the look on my dad's face when I pulled up their music on the stereo, because he hadn't heard them since he was in school. Here's a video of them performing the song "Along Comes Mary" on the Smothers Brothers; it's pretty wonderful if you ask me.
-From And Then...Along Comes The Association (1966)
And that's all I've got for today, so here are some photos from the road!
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| Salt Flats, looking South from I-80 |
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| I swear there are ghouls living here |
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| Minarets! |
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| I-80, just west of Salt Lake City |
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| Utah Highway 6 |
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| Just East of Wellington, Utah |
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| Utah Highway 6, looking West |
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