As a former college radio dj/record store clerk/roadie/musician/record reviewer, I have no real trouble confessing to the sin of musical snobbery. The only music about which I have no opinion is music I've never heard, and if I have heard it, I'm quite likely to express that opinion. I can't help myself. When I'm at someone's house, I find myself looking at the CDs and hearing the voice of Barry from High Fidelity in my head: "Oh, lord--he's got Kenny G. Oh, lord, it's not just anyKenny G--it's the one where he inserts himself into Louis Armstrong's 'What a Wonderful World'! And you shook this guy's hand!"

So yes, music produces strong reactions in me. I'm proud of some, and ashamed of others. Of course, one of the great things about getting older is that your sense of shame begins to atrophy. Hence:

Ten Songs I'm Not Supposed to Like but Do Anyway:

*"Someone Saved My Life Tonight" by Elton John
Granted, "sugar bear" and "didn't you dear" don't rhyme, and Douglas Adams was right in describing Nigel Olsson's snare drum sound as "reminiscent of someone slapping a bucket with a wet frankfurter," but this is the kind of breathtakingly over-the-top balladry you just don't get since everyone went all ironic during the Reagan Era.

*"I Will Buy You a New Life" by Everclear
Art Alexakis is wrong. Money isn't "the root of all that kills"; the love of money is the problem. And I hear Art's sold his artistic soul for a mess of pottage, what with Gap ads and all. I don' t care. It's all about the crunchy guitars and the snide way he says "welfare Christmas."

*"Hummingbird" by Seals & Crofts
I like this one even though it's a cheesy Seventies acoustic mishmash of hallucinatory imagery, swelling strings, multiple time signatures, and quotations from the Bah'ai Scriptures. If you're gonna put together a great piece of harmony, sometimes people are gonna get hurt.

*"Mickey" by Toni Basil
Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, oh god I love it so.

*"The Way" by Fastball
I salute what promises to be this particular one-hit wonder's one hit--its lyrics are like something out of a Billy Jack movie, but it sticks in your head like a velcro-covered leech.

*"Allentown" by Billy Joel
When Billy wrote this, the closest he'd been to a mine was probably breaking up chunks of cocaine with a razor. You can object to it on a number of levels--musically, it's pretty simplistic, and lyrically it's not exactly Woody Guthrie--but there's something about the bridge, the pounding piano, and the way Billy says "iron and coke [ha!], chromium steel" that makes it work. And just try to get it out of your head.

*"Shiny Happy People" by R.E.M.
All right-thinking fans of Mumbles and His Band are supposed to loathe this song, but I refuse to let the crowd sway me. It's a little pop gem. Kate Piersen! You are like a goddess unto me!

*"In the Air Tonight" by Phil Collins
So he stole the Oscar that Randy Newman deserved for "When She Loved Me." So he ripped off former bandmate Peter Gabriel throughout his music for Disney's Tarzan. So he's the anti-Christ. The fact of the matter is that if Phil had abandoned his solo career after recording Face Value and gone back to Genesis permanently, we'd all be oooohing and aaaahing over this one's spooky dynamics and now-legendary drum entrance. Face that fact.

*"Sister Golden Hair" by America
Let me be clear: I love this song. I don't love this song in some kind of campy, ironic, post-modern oh-it's-so-bad-it's-good way. I love it because it has big fat acoustic guitars and a beautifully Harrisonesque slide electric part over them, because it has a huge hook-filled chorus and resonant open E-major chords, because it has wonderful backup vocals and strange, sincere lyrics, and because George Martin's fingerprints are all over it.

*"Oh, Holy Night"
Every yutz who thinks he can sing tries to mangle this carol, but that says nothing about the song itself. And it makes a dandy cha-cha-cha, as a listen to Brave Combo's Musical Varieties will make plain. Happy holidays!
11:16 AM

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Well, school has started and the rush has begun. Today I've got my usual classes--though I do have a pretty light load this trimester, I'll be the first to admit--followed by the read-through for the play I'm directing (Christopher Durang's The Actor's Nightmare) for our Black Box Theater, followed by an evening of dorm duty. Whee.

It occurs to me that I started this journal in the spring, the one season at WFS where I have no coaching or directing duties. Now that I'm getting set for my second year of Black Box direction, I'm wondering how easy it's going to be to keep the journal up-to-date while I'm spending so much of my time on the play. I guess we'll see.

It's not like the play's the only extra-curricular thing I've got going, either. I've got three new student advisees--nice kids, all, but I haven't had much chance to get to know them yet, which is something I'll have to do in the coming weeks. I'm the chairman of our school's Artist Series committee, tasked (boy, do I dislike that verb) to bring artists and performers of note to our school, and we need to get some dates and shows confirmed soon. There are a couple of debate tournaments in October and November that we may attend, but only if I can get the students who are interested to commit to it.

And then there's the whole writing thing. I've been asked to contribute a piece for a new essay collection about basketball in America, 1970-present. No word on when it's due out, but my essay is due around the end of October. I'll pass on details as they become available.

I've also got something else in the works for a periodical, but I can't tell you about it just yet. Watch this space.

Still no word on the official publication date of The Verb, either.

Damn. You'd think I could at least provide a modicum of entertainment OR information today, but apparently I'm unable to do even that. So here are a few crumbs:

*My fantasy football team is now 2-0, thanks largely to yesterday's dominant performance by my defense, the Buccaneers.
*I've figured out how to use my new computer's CD burner. Be afraid, be very afraid...
*I've gotten lots of quality baby time lately, having dandled both my little cousin Whitney and a friend's young daughter Blythe on my knee within the last three days. They're darned cute, but I'm still happy we called it a day after two.
*Speaking of the two, both boys are starting to express interest in playing instruments--the elder is looking to pick up saxophone as part of the sixth-grade band program (he may try trumpet or French horn, but I have a feeling his braces may interfere with that), while the younger is going for the strings program and is eager to try his hand at the bass. Thank god we bought a station wagon...
*Kelly and I discovered the difference between science-fiction fans and people who merely appreciate science fiction. In Roger Ebert's The Great Movies, he notes that he felt sure that in 2001: a space odyssey, the primitive humans were inspired to make tools by the sight of the smooth, regular, obviously manufactured Monolith. Kelly and I looked at each other and said, "No way! It didn't inspire them--it zapped their brains!" That's one of the things I love about SF; you don't have to go looking for symbolism when events can be refreshingly literal.
6:40 AM

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