Archive for the 'Music' Category

OK, while I try to figure out something both valuable and pissy to say about product placements in churches (because I don’t think “grrrrrr” is quite sufficient, but that’s all I can think of at the moment), I’d like to say something short and sweet about Apple’s new spots for the iPod Shuffle — the one featuring the song Who’s Gonna Sing by the Prototypes: good song, good editing, absolutely great tag line. You’ve got a series of people clipping the player to their clothes, and the tag is “Put some music on.” That’s just damned good.

I bet you didn’t know about this.

In early 1961, Ella Fitzgerald, the First Lady of Song herself, was at a party being given by some record executives from RCA in Los Angeles. Fitzgerald was under contract with Verve Records at the time, and didn’t know many of the people at the party. After mingling for an hour or so, she was getting ready to leave when she heard someone playing the piano and singing in another room. She didn’t recognize the song, but she immediately loved it.

As the story goes, Ella followed her ears and met the young man at the piano. He taught her the song, called “Wonderful World” and they sang it together. He of course knew Ella — he was a big fan — and pretty soon they were entertaining the whole party with jazz standards and some current popular songs.

The party ended up lasting all night. The man at the piano turned out to be none other than Sam Cooke, and the song that had introduced him to Ella was one he’d composed and recorded.

As it happened, Herb Alpert was at the party, and in addition to being a good friend of Fitzgerald’s he was one of the co-writers of “Wonderful World.” It was Alpert’s idea that Sam and Ella put an act together.

Everyone at the party applauded the idea, and it was decided that they’d put together a collection of songs, some of his, some of hers, and some that they felt lent themselves to the combination of their talents, rehearse for a week or two, and, just for fun, do a show or two together.

They did a show at the Roxy in LA with very limited advertising under the name “Sam and Ella” and were such a hit that the club’s owner asked them to stay for a week. For the next week, they sold out every show and brought the house down every night.

The decision was made for the two to do a tour of the US together. The plan was for Ella to perform for 45 minutes, followed by Sam for another 45, and then the two would come on stage together and do duets for as long as they felt like it. The tour was booked into some 50 cities over a three-month period, and was to start with an invitation-only dinner show at New York’s Rainbow Room on April 29, 1961.

The night of the kickoff show arrived after a whirlwind press tour. The performance was to be recorded and broadcast live on numerous radio stations. The invited guests — including some of the most famous entertainers in the country — were seated at 8:00 and served Waldorf salad, followed by chicken marsala. By 9:15, the tables had been cleared, the lights dimmed, and out came Fitzgerald and her quartet.

At the end of her set, Ella left the stage and Sam Cooke appeared to do his set with the same backup musicians. The crowd seemed very appreciative, but some 30 minutes into the set a few of the people started to leave, and the number continued to increase to the point where, by the end of Cooke’s set, nearly half the audience was gone.

At this point, Fitzgerald came out on stage to join Cooke (who was worried that his music had somehow been bad enough to thin out the crowd), the band started “Wonderful World,” and the audience applauded in recognition, but without much enthusiasm.

Fifteen minutes into the duet set, the last of the audience was gone. Fitzgerald was completely shocked, and Cooke (a very sensitive man indeed) was in tears, apparently blaming himself for the whole debacle.

As it turned out, the audience hadn’t walked out because of any problem with either of the two stars. The chicken marsala was undercooked, and nearly everyone in the crowd had taken sick. The singers were told of this the next morning, and they were asked to hold off the rest of the tour and perform again in New York to get things off to a proper start. But the damage had been done. Cooke, who was also a bit superstitious, refused to perform, insisting that it was going to happen again even if they never served chicken at one of their shows again. The tour was canceled, and that was the end of Sam and Ella. They never performed together again, and Cooke was killed in a bizarre shooting some three years later.

I was coming out of a meeting earlier this evening and noticed that we’re pretty close to a full moon. That reminded me of something I’ve been wanting to tell you about.

We’ve all heard of the man in the moon, that pareidolia almost as famous as the Virgin Mary’s apparition on a wad of beef jerky heimliched from the throat of a NASCAR fan at Daytona (it’s always Florida). We all know the man in the moon isn’t real. If you believe in him, you probably believe in Santa, the Easter Bunny, and even Delaware.

What you may not realize is that there is a Woman in the Moon, or perhaps more accurately, a Chanteuse in the Moon. That’s right, the moon contains the face of famed French singer, Édith Piaf, she of Non, je ne regrette rien, La vie en rose and Ne me quitte pas.

How this happened, I can’t say. Is it fate? Did Piaf model her look after that face on the moon? Who knows? All I know is, it’s there and there’s no point in denying it. You see it, don’t you? Of course you do!

In 1984, shortly before Winston and Julia are arrested, they look out the window and see a proletarian woman hanging laundry to dry. I don’t recall if this particular line is in the novel, but I’m pretty sure it’s in the film: Winston comments on how odd it is that a song written by a machine could sound so lovely.

I wonder, could anything be worse than a work of art that was spit out based on some algorithm? I’m not talking about experimental music that’s based on math, or randomly-generated collections of sounds. I mean a pop song. I think there might be one worse way to create a song: a focus group.

Imagine a group of people randomly selected from among the shoppers at a mall somewhere in deepest Nebraska. They’re sat down at a big table with notepads, snacks and drinks. At one end of the room is a mirror taking up nearly the whole wall, and behind that wall is the marketing team for some new “artist”. The focus group members are given the following instructions: if you were a young African American, living in a poor neighborhood of Los Angeles, what would you think about? What would be important to you? How would you have fun? Just shout out anything that comes to mind.

What would be the result of such an exercise? Assuming at least a few of the people were under 50, had seen a few minutes of MTV, Boyz n the Hood or a similarly-themed film, you’d end up with a list of clichéd buzz words — something like this:

• party
• 40
• homeys
• yo
• hood
• gang banger
• drive-by
• get paid
• raise your hands in the air and wave them like you just don’t care
• South Central
• flava
• old school
• O.G.
• mack
• wannabe
• playa

This would quickly be processed into something like…

This is how we do it
(This is how we do it)
La la la la la la la
La la lo lo lo lo oh
(This is how we do it)
La la la la oh

This is how we do it, it’s Friday night
And I feel all right
The party’s here on the West side
So I reach for my 40 and I turn it up
Designated driver take the keys to my truck
Hit the shore ’cause I’m faded
Honeys in the street say, “Monty, yo we made it!”
It feels so good in my hood tonight
The summertime skirts and the guys in Kani
All the gang bangers forgot about the drive-by
You gotta get your groove on, before you go get paid
So tip up your cup and throw your hands up
And let me hear the party say

I’m kinda buzzed and it’s all because (This is how we do it)
South Central does it like nobody does (This is how we do it)
To all my neighbours you got much flava (This is how we do it)
Let’s flip the track, bring the old school back (This is how we do it)

This is how we do it, all hands are in the air
And wave them from here to there
If you’re an O.G. mack or a wanna-be playa
You see the hood’s been good to me
Ever since I was a lower-case G
But now I’m a big G, the girls see I got the money
Hundred dollar bills y’all

If you were from where I’m from then you would know
That I gotta get mine in a big black truck
You can get yours in a ’64
Whatever it is, the party’s underway
So tip up your cup and throw your hands up
And let me hear the party say

I’m kinda buzzed, it’s all because (This is how we do it)
Ooh South Central does it like nobody does (This is how we do it)
To all my neighbours you got much flava (This is how we do it)
Let’s flip the track, bring the old school back (This is how we do it)
I’m kinda buzzed, it’s all because (This is how we do it)
South Central does it like nobody does, nobody does (This is how we do it)
YNV, SCC, (This is how we do it) all my homies
I’ll never come wack on an old school track (This is how we do it)
Check it out!

Once upon a time in ’94
Montell made no money and life sure was slow
All they said was 6’8″ he stood
And people thought the music that he made was good
There lived a D.J. and Paul was his name
He came up to Monty, this is what he said
You and OG are gonna make some cash
Sell a million records and we’ll make in a dash

Oh I’m buzzing because (This is how we do it)
South Central does it like nobody does (This is how we do it)
To all my neighbours you got much flava (This is how we do it)
I’ll never come wack on an old school track (This is how we do it)
I’m kinda buzzed, it’s all because (This is how we do it)
South Central does it like nobody does, nobody does (This is how we do it)
Oh it’s party time (This is how we do it)
Straight up comin’ from the West side (This is how we do it)
OG’s got the flava, yeah (This is how we do it)
And Monty doesn’t like nobody, doesn’t (This is how we do it)
Come on now, Def Jam, you know what it (This is how we do it)
This is how we do it (This is how we do it) baby

Yes, it’s more than ten years old, but I wasn’t blogging when it came out.