Exploring the CD Collection, #4

In my post honoring Jerry Goldsmith on the occasion of his passing, I commented that the event left John Williams and Elmer Bernstein as the “grand old men” of film music. This, of course, constituted several errors of omission: John Barry, for one; and as Michael Brooke pointed out in comments, Ennio Morricone.

In both cases, I fell victim to not really thinking things through when writing the post, since both men should be so named. But in the case of Morricone, something else is at work: basically, I’ve never liked the guy’s music. He’s amazingly prolific and influential, but as a listening experience, he does nothing at all for me.

There was a time, in college, when I enjoyed his score to The Mission, but I think this played into a more general taste at the time for “ambient” and “atmospheric” music, the kind of stuff we used to play late at night with the lights off in order to ease the passage into sleep. As music, The Mission made little real impression on me. And Morricone’s work on those Clint Eastwood “Spaghetti Westerns” I find actually unpleasant, and they are a major factor in my general distaste for those films. Yes, they’re different, they’re minimalistic, they’re unique and all that. But I still don’t like them. (Morricone’s score for Once Upon a Time In America is often cited as one of the very greatest film scores; I’ve never heard a note of it, to my knowledge.)

Which brings me to Morricone’s most recent high-profile score, Mission to Mars.

I have to be blunt here: Mission to Mars is one of the worst movies I have ever seen. It’s bad in that breathtaking way that kept me watching, in total awe of its badness. It was paced like a funeral, and had all the subtext of one; the central mystery wasn’t all that interesting; and the science was absurd. Here was a film that tried blending the “Hard SF” of 2001: A Space Odyssey with the gonzo-origin-of-life theories of the Fortean Times. Here’s a movie that tries to give me a plausible look at what a flight to Mars would be like, and then turns around and gives me the “Face on Mars” as an actual face on Mars. Ugh. Ugh, ugh, ugh.

And then there’s Morricone’s score.

I have to admit that I don’t hate it as much as I did when I first saw the film, but when I saw the film, I really hated the score. I mean, I detested it. Think of playing a Dr. Dre CD for a person whose musical tastes stopped evolving when the Bee Gees stopped recording, and you’ll roughly have my reaction to Morricone’s score to Mission to Mars. I found it thick, ponderous, dominated by slow melodies backed by a chorus helpfully oohing and ahhing in an unending series of “Feel wonder NOW!” gestures. Add to that some spectacularly bad orchestral playing (did nobody notice how out of tune the clarinet was in that long solo at the end?), and I wrote this off as one of the most unpleasant scores in film history.

Well, at the time, I was active on Usenet’s rec.music.movies (which is little more than a graveyard now), and a number of posters there kept insisting that I should give the score another chance, that it worked better on CD, that “it made their souls take flight”, et cetera. So, in the interests of intellectual honesty and all that, I bought the thing and listened to it.

I ended up not hating it as much as before, but I still don’t like it; Morricone’s stature in the film music world is to this day a mystery to me, and this score still does nothing to dispel that mystery. It’s full of very strange details that never add to anything. There is a rising, arpeggiated motif that sounds very similar to the “Rhine” motif from Wagner’s Ring cycle, except that Morricone appends this weird, two-note “lick” at the end of it, usually played by a glockenspiel that stands out like a sore thumb. There is a descending, chromatic motif that erupts at seemingly random points in the score. And there are odd instrumentations throughout, which is a standard for Morricone but which also make no sense at all to me. The electronica in the score works, for the most part; what doesn’t work is a pipe organ seemingly played with one stop selected and with a single hand, the worst oboe and (afore-mentioned) clarinet playing I can recall, and a part for — of all things — a piccolo trumpet, supplying some incredibly odd baroque-ish effects over the lower strings. To be fair, there are some wonderful melodies in this score, but they’re fragmentary, seemingly always stopping in order to open things up for some really odd effect of Morricone’s.

I admit that my knowledge of Ennio Morricone’s music is very limited, but almost exclusively my impression is that Morricone just takes a big pile of ideas, some of which are remarkable and some of which are remarkably awful, and just mixes them together. Sometimes, I suppose the approach works. But I’ve yet to find the Morricone score where it does.

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Six-stringed badness

The 50 Worst Guitar Solos Ever, filched from MeFi. I confess that I haven’t heard a great deal of these, but the ones I have I don’t recall being that bad. Criticizing rock guitarists for excess seems to me to be kind of like criticizing Impressionist painters for too little precise clarity, but this description of Ted Nugent gave me some serious chuckles:

Hide your women and pets, it’s that misogynistic poacher leaving scorched earth and bleeding carcasses wherever he roams.


Heh, indeed!

(OK, I have to quibble with listing the solo from “Comfortably Numb”. Fact is, who cares if it’s spliced together for the recording? Does it work musically, or not? My answer is “Yes”, which is the only question that matters, in my opinion.)

And within the MeFi comment thread I find the Top 100 guitar solos, which I merely link here but have not, as of this writing, actually read. I’ll update later. (This latter link features “tabs”, by the way, which I assume are some kind of notation for guitarists. I know nothing about the guitar, so this is of no use to me. But maybe there’s a guitar player in my readership who’d like to sharpen their teeth on “Eruption”.)

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Signs. Lots of signs.

I linked Signs of Life a while back, and I discovered that link again while browsing my archives a bit this morning. When I linked it before, the site had to shut down due to bandwidth concerns, and I meant to re-link it when it was back up, but forgot about it.

Anyway, go check it out. It’s merely a gallery of signs bearing verbiage that is uniformly hilarious (unintentionally so).

(UPDATE: Oh, wow. I’ll bet that if I saw this one, my ensuing double-take might well cause me to lose control of the car and….)

(UPDATE II: Oh my God!)

(UPDATE III: I don’t want to meet the person whose shopping list can be exhausted here. Especially if he or she mixes up the purchases!)

(UPDATE IV: OK, I’m done. Those ones just had to be singled out.)

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The Care Bears must DIE.

Ugh.

Ugh, ugh, ugh.

For reasons passing understanding, the Care Bears have made a comeback in the last year or so — right in time for The Daughter to become obsessed with them. The stuffed one she owns is fine; the DVD of four episodes of the 1980s-era show about these guys that she received for her birthday a month ago is not. This thing just makes me want to claw out my eyes and pour lye into my ears.

And the worst thing? There’s this portentous music for “No-Heart”, the black-robe clad villain of the show, and this music includes a snippet that just has to be ripped from the “Imperial March” from the Star Wars films. The intervals are identical. Betrayer most foul!

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Hey, look at Coach! He’s turning red and jumping up and down!

During the off-season, the Buffalo Bills (who begin training camp real soon, yay!) brought in a whole new coaching staff (except for the defense), on the heels of last year’s disaster of a season in which the team set new records for offensive futility. Among these new additions is Sam Wyche, who takes over as quarterbacks coach. His primary responsibilities are to pull Drew Bledsoe out of the apparent tailspin he’s in, and to prepare rookie J.P. Losman for duty as the eventual starter.

I never liked Wyche all that much before, when he was head coach in Cincinnati, but I figure he’s older, wiser, and anyway, he’s a Bill now, so there it is. And he is most definitely experienced and noted for his teaching skills, which is what the Bills really need after stumbling badly last year.

The most interesting thing about Wyche’s arrival with the Bills isn’t just that it’s his comeback to the NFL, but the story behind it. Wyche endured some serious health problems a few years back, one of which required surgery — and in the course of one of those operations, his vocal cords were damaged to the point that he is physically incapable of speaking in anything louder than a normal speaking voice. That’s quite an obstacle for an NFL coach, and it will be interesting to see how he gets by once the season starts and he’s trying to make his points in a stadium surrounded by 75,000 fans.

Here‘s an interesting story about Wyche and his recent trials. It’s definitely one of the more unique “sports comeback” stories I’ve encountered.

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Oh, bugger.

Back when I was studying philosophy at Wartburg College in Iowa, friends of mine who were from the Twin Cities area were constantly telling me that I had to go to a bookstore there called “The Hungry Mind”. I never made it there, but I had hoped to do so one day.

I’m not going to make it.

Oh, well.

(The linked story requires registration to read, but you can get around that by using bugmenot.com. Via Bookslut.)

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You jump, I jump….

First Michael Lopez wrote about Titanic; then I wrote about Titanic, and then he wrote about Titanic some more. So it only seems right that I proceed to, yes, write a little more about Titanic.

Basically, I just want to respond to the fourth point in Michael’s second post, in which he’s still really hung up over the fact that Rose doesn’t sell the diamond and then live off the money (or something similar), which would make it a lot more feasible to “make every moment count”. The problem I’m having with Michael’s argument here is that he’s attacking Rose for this, but as far as I can see, what she’s doing is putting Jack‘s philosophy into play. Jack has, by the end of the film, been pretty much conclusively established as a guy who would rather be poor than rich, because he knows how to get by. Now, whether that’s realistic or not is open to question, but I don’t think it’s so easy to damn Rose when what she really does after the sinking is start living what was not actually her life, but Jack’s. (Take a good look at those photos on Rose’s shelf, the ones that Michael mentioned in his earlier post: the first one we see has her standing on a horse on a beach, in front of a roller coaster. This is an exact allusion to something Jack had said they would do when they left the ship, early in the film.)

I also think that the film also establishes that Rose would really rather be poor, so I think her decision to do nothing with the diamond is in keeping with her character. She has absolutely no desire to marry just to maintain her family’s station, nor does she want to remain in that “station” at all.

At its heart, the love story of Titanic is another version of Lady and the Tramp, although in this case the Lady decides to become a tramp herself, rather than see the Tramp “rehabilitated” to become a “Gentleman”. I don’t know, I guess from a standpoint of utilitarian ethics I can see the argument that Rose shouldn’t have kept the diamond all those years. But I can’t bring myself to hate Rose.

But then, this could simply be because she’s a ravishing redhead.

(Full disclosure, I suppose: To this day, I still love Titanic, even if the love story really is pretty goofy.)

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God, am I a juvenile, or what???

I’m enjoying Alex Ross‘s photo-blogging of the Bayreuth Festival, which is on its third installment. But when he points out that statues of Richard Wagner’s dog are all over town, I can’t help but think it would be funny to walk around and place one of these behind every one of them.

I mean, I love Wagner’s music and all, but statues of his dog?!

UPDATE: Mr. Ross has a bit of new information about the dogs of Wagner. I wasn’t so much “alarmed” as “bemused”; I merely assumed that the canine statuary had been in place pretty much since the Wagner festival began, probably as part of Wagner’s own dictate as to how the Festival should be run. I don’t think that there’s much “whimsy” to be found in Wagner — either in his music or in his character — which is why I assumed the dogs weren’t meant to be whimsical.

But apparently the dogs are meant to be precisely that, and they’re a much more recent phenomenon: it’s an art project designed to make Wagner more accessible. That being the case, I’m reminded of something that happened in these parts, the Herd About Buffalo. This was a “herd” of life-sized fiberglass bison that were individually decorated by local artists and displayed around Buffalo before being auctioned off, one by one. A lot of local businesses and homeowners ended up buying them, so it’s not uncommon to drive around and see this big, stylized fiberglass buffalo sitting on someone’s front lawn.

Anyway, thanks to Mr. Ross for the link.

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