THE WHO PUNCHES IN – AND THEY HOPE THEY DIE BEFORE … OOPS, TOO LATE!
The Who at the Delta Center, Salt Lake City
Nov. 13, 2006
THE DOTTED LINE: ••••
SALT LAKE CITY – The Who – pretty much down to Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey these days, thanks to death, drugs and rock and roll – have been banged and battered about, taken to task by the critics who think they’re just cashing in on another farewell tour or victory lap.
And I’ll be the first to admit I was a bit of a cynic going in – especially reading Townshend’s recent interviews or the reviews of the band’s new “Endless Wire” CD.
But then I saw The Who play live, on a Monday night – which should say something right there; Mondays aren't exactly rock and roll time here in little ol' Utah – at The Delta Center. It wasn’t a capacity crowd, but the people who were there were passionate, right down to the smell of pot drifting from the stands and all the old hipsters working the scene.
And Daltrey and Townshend – dressed rather simply in variations of black T-shirts and jeans – seemed every bit as passionate about putting on a good show as they might have back in “the late ‘70s,” as Townshend noted, or the last time The Who visited Salt Lake City.
So there the two Who were, working the scene with their opening number, “I Can’t Explain,” which sounded a bit more ragged and raspy live but which added to its charm. Same with “Substitute” (the second song on the set list) and “Who Are You?” and “My Generation” and “Pinball Wizard.”
While they didn’t seem to be exactly sharing love notes – Townshend and Daltrey were somewhat prickly to each other on stage, where Townshend is the unequivocal leader (on our night, Roger, who was supposedly nursing his voice, didn’t say a non-singing word until the end and sipped what appeared to be tea throughout the evening) – the duo’s undeniable chemistry sparked the band throughout the night, putting The Who right up there with performances I’ve seen by similar rock legends like The Rolling Stones, Paul McCartney and U2 as the best of all time.
And unlike the by-rote performances I’ve seen far-lesser artists punch in with, Townshend and Daltrey seemed absolutely committed to making the evening memorable for the 12,000 or so fans in attendance. Townshend, in particular, was dedicated to giving the audience the full nine yards: His peerless muscianship was evident as he played a number of different guitars and his characteristic spinning windmill style was an ongoing highlight of this quiet night in Salt Lake City, when The Who’s leader showed us how to rock.
Pete also plays a bigger part in the band's vocals than those of us who've never seen them live might suspect; it's his high harmonies (supported to great measure by his brother, Simon, who also plays and supplies backing vocals for the band) that supplement Daltrey's bluesy growl and give The Who its signature sound. This was especially apparent during one undeniable highlight: The generation-spanning singalong of "You Better You Bet" (which I remember being the "new" Who song), a classic album song reinvented by the band's live energy and the urgent mix of vocals – Daltrey, the Townshends and every fan in the building.
The Who did a few numbers – introduced to great fanfare for those of us who’d like to swoop up for another or three beers – from the new “Endless Wire” CD; they all sounded OK (I bought the CD for further examination the next day); but my personal favorite was the quick “We Got A Hit.”
In the end, they could do no wrong. For The Who came, with no excuses. Damn the fact that they are in their mid-‘60s, essentially my parents’ age. Pete and Roger were rocking throughout the night, generating the sweat and the love and the respect that only The Who could inspire every time Daltrey found another rigorous high note (twirling and dancing with his long microphone cord; truly a throwback move of his from the '60s) or Townshend windmilled across that guitar for another hit.
When it comes to The Who? Won’t get fooled again, indeed.
# # #
ON THE DOT: Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. And remember, as always, this is just an exhibition; it is not a competition – so please, no wagering. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
Monday, October 09, 2006
A SNAPSHOT OF THREE NEW SERIES, THREE RETURNEES – THE BEST, SO FAR
By JOHN YOUNGREN
The new TV season is about a month or so old and there’s still a few new shows coming our way – “30 Rock,” NBC’s other show about a “Saturday Night Live”-type of show is coming this week – and a few shows I miss: “The West Wing” and “Alias” and “Battlestar Galactica” (but only because I can’t get Sci Fi and have to wait for the goddamn DVDs) being among them.
But that’s OK. Because, with the new season on the docket, I’m more or less entertained by three returning series and three new ones, all of which have had either impressive debuts and/or impressive returns.
Funny thing? You’re not going to find any sitcoms here. I like “The Office” but don’t kill myself if I don’t see it, and there’s not anything new that I find particularly compelling. Yet. (Oh, but for the days of “Friends” and “Seinfeld.”)
And, God forbid, there are no fucking reality shows here.
So for me, it’s the dramas, old and new. And in no particular order other than how I thought about them...
To wit:
1. “Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip”
Monday nights, NBC
Admittedly, I was somewhat pre-disposed to liking this show. Aaron Sorkin has long been one of my favorite television writers, and his previous series – the massively underappreciated “Sports Night” and the consistently brilliant (at least when Sorkin was running the show) “The West Wing” – are two of TV’s best, ever.
Maybe it should be no surprise that “Studio 60” seems to be a mix of both. Maybe it should also be no surprise that “Studio 60” is so cool it’s hemmoraging viewers. Too smart? Too inside? Too much?
I’m worried that Sorkin’s words seem a bit overwrought at times. I’m worried that it seems like this is all rather much for a show about a televison show – do we have to take ourselves so fucking seriously? And I’m worried about where this thing is going past the seventh or eighth episode. The first show. The first focus group. The first cast defection. The first insert live feed to West Coast viewers (last night).
God, you can feel it, can’t you?
Still, with a crackling dream team cast – Matthew Perry, Bradley Whitford, Amanda Peet, Steven Weber, etc., etc., etc. – “Studio” shined from its very first seconds. And you know what? It’s only gotten better since.
Dotted line: •••-/12
2. “The Nine”
Wednesday nights, ABC
Based on its pilot alone, I prepared to name this the best new series of the season, an honor I’d saved for “Studio 60” before viewing the first week of “The Nine,” a relationship-mystery-flashback drama in the style of “Lost,” but without the unbelievable desert island shenanigans, other worldly visions and polar bears.
The quick study cast – Tim Daly, Kim Raver, Chi McBride and Scott Wolf all play variations on characters they’ve done before – was instantly comfortable both with one another and for us as viewers; the cast is so appealing and familiar it was no problem to get caught up in the drama of their original hostage standoff, which drives the story for the rest of the season. In the pilot, we’re left guessing what exactly happened to the nine hostages during a tension filled hostage negotiation that lasted more than two days. Presumably, those mysteries will be addressed – and further questions raised – as the weeks go along.
I’m normally more skeptical when asked to go along for the ride – Christ, I gave up on “Vanished” after one and one-half episodes, which seems like a somewhat intelligent choice given the show’s ratings and critical drubbings – but with “The Nine” (and if Daly, Raver and Wolf are in), I’m in for the long haul.
Dotted line: ••••
3. “Brothers & Sisters”
Sunday nights, ABC
Much like “The Nine,” ABC’s new Sunday-night drama has a quick shorthand cast – Calista Flockhart, Rachel Griffiths, Sally Field, etc., doing riffs on familiar characters they’ve created elsewhere. And the production team is clearly looking for a “thirtysomething” riff; this is a family that loves each other despite it all, arguing and joking along the way.
I’m not sold yet, but I’ll admit it’s somewhere to go on Sunday nights. And, in this odd age of every series on television following the “Lost”-“24” model of odd concepts unraveling themselves over the course of a season, it’s somewhat refreshing to stumble into a good old relationship drama, cleverly played by an exceptional cast.
Sure, it all gets a bit melodramatic once in while. That’s OK. I’m willing to see what happens with this family. Especially if they keep doing those “Grey’s”/”Cold Caase” music montages to close episodes while we stare into character’s eyes, like we did after the third episode Sunday night.
Damn you, clever producers who know music!
Dotted line: •••
The returnees...
1. “Grey’s Anatomy” (season 2)
Thursday nights, ABC
I’m a little uneasy with all this McVet vs. McDreamy bullshit that’s leading off the third season – just get it over with, for God’s sake, Meredith – and there are times when “Grey’s Anatomy” (ostensibly a medical drama, but actually more along the lines of “Melrose Place,” but without the bombings and Heather Locklear) feels a little, well, precious.
But fuck me. It’s fun, and sexy, and flirty, and provocative. The women on this show are really hot, and the guys are heroic (except for George, who’s just kind of pathetic). I don’t particularly think of this as what goes on around a real hospital – but those tanks and helicopters bursting through the doors of the ER on “E.R.” didn’t exactly do much to convince me, either.
Instead, what “Grey’s” does better than almost any other show on TV right now is respect its audience: It plays to its strengths, and its weaknesses. It understands what works, and what doesn’t. “Grey’s Anatomy” is like a good-looking girl who knows that if she wears her hair this way or her makeup that way, she’ll really be smoking. It knows its assets. And it goes to them every single week.
Dotted line: •••-/12
2. “Lost” (season 3)
Wednesday nights, ABC
Uh, I don’t know. What’s everyone else thinking?
Me? I’m a little ambivalent. I watched the season 3 premiere and thought it was well-done, tense and clever. Still, I couldn’t help but feeling a little cheated. Maybe I’m tiring of the game. Maybe I’m tiring of being lost.
I don’t like shows where there are no rules, or where they can keep changing the game. I don’t mind a little hocus-pocus here and there – they killed Angel on “Buffy, the Vampire Slayer,” but a mysterious higher power dropped him back to Earth the next season – with these supernatural shows. Hell, I’ll even encourage it: I think they should have left Jennifer Garner’s real-life pregnancy out of the final year of “Alias.” (They could have explained her burgeoning belly as the result of aliens, or something.)
But, “Lost?” Yeah, I don’t know. “Twin Peaks” pissed me off about halfway through its second season, when it still couldn’t quite resolve the mysteries of Laura Palmer’s death and I decided, “who the fuck cares?” And “The X-Files” incited me toward the end – they still didn’t really address the whole evil government conspiracy mythology bullshit and they were trying to play smoke and mirrors with the fact that David Duchovny was no longer in the show. I watched out of obligation, not anticipation. I watched because I wanted to see where it went but was disappointed when I ultimately realized it didn’t go anywhere.
I have nothing but respect and admiration for the basic “Lost” formula. I love its characters and actors. I’m knocked out by the work of its writers and producers. I’m sure I’ll keep watching, and my opinions will be all over the place. That’s how I felt all through season 2. They dragged their feet for episodes on end and then every once in a while would pull a fucking rabbit out and keep everyone buzzing.
So, God. Keep changing the rules. Think you’ve guessed this? We’ll try that. You zig. We zag. Just when you think you know what things mean … here’s a fucking polar bear in a cage, that'll throw you off.
That’s fun for a while. But it gets old. For a while, it’s “what will they think of next?” And then it becomes, “fool me once, shame on you. Fool me, twice – screw you.”
Dotted line: ••-1/2
3. “Boston Legal” (season 3)
Tuesday nights, ABC
First of all, had you told me a few months ago that the three returning dramas I’d be most interested in (pending the return of “24” on Fox in January) would all be on ABC, I’d be surprised. But then again, when you consider that most of what CBS has in its dramatic quiver are variations on “C.S.I.” (including all the shows that are not “C.S.I.” but could be, like episodes of “Cold Case,” “Without A Trace” and/or “N.C.I.S.”) And most of what NBC is showing are variations of “Law and Order.” So maybe ABC is where it’s at.
“Boston Legal” is unlike anything else on TV. It’s a legal drama like “The Practice” and “L.A. Law,” but it’s also a dramedy, like “Ally McBeal.” It’s from David E. Kelley, who wrote and/or produced all of the above, but it’s not particularly like any of those shows. In this one, it’s almost like Kelley threw out all the old rules and decided to do something that would just amuse him.
There are no particularly dramatic arcs on “Boston Legal,” and the show’s habit of breaking its fourth wall (it’s not uncommon for star William Shatner, in particular, to somehow refer to the show’s audience in a kind of meta-universe language of self-awareness) has made even its most serious moments and most blatantly political arguments less alarming and more pedestrian. But that’s OK.
For “Boston Legal” will always have James Spader, and Spader in his prime – far away from those John Hughes movies, and “Sex, Lies and Videotape” – is absolutely so fucking brilliant, you can’t help but love his coy wit, dry intelligence and dysfunctional by-play. This is a TV writer’s TV character, embodied by an actor who absolutely wants to sell the audience on his own sense of loss, loneliness, melancholia. My dream? Bring back one or two of “The Practice” attorneys to fight it out with Spader’s Alan Shore in a courtroom drama or two. When he was on that show, I’d root for them. Now, I root for him.
Dotted line: •••-1/2
# # #
ON THE DOT: Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. And remember, as always, this is just an exhibition; it is not a competition – so please, no wagering. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
By JOHN YOUNGREN
The new TV season is about a month or so old and there’s still a few new shows coming our way – “30 Rock,” NBC’s other show about a “Saturday Night Live”-type of show is coming this week – and a few shows I miss: “The West Wing” and “Alias” and “Battlestar Galactica” (but only because I can’t get Sci Fi and have to wait for the goddamn DVDs) being among them.
But that’s OK. Because, with the new season on the docket, I’m more or less entertained by three returning series and three new ones, all of which have had either impressive debuts and/or impressive returns.
Funny thing? You’re not going to find any sitcoms here. I like “The Office” but don’t kill myself if I don’t see it, and there’s not anything new that I find particularly compelling. Yet. (Oh, but for the days of “Friends” and “Seinfeld.”)
And, God forbid, there are no fucking reality shows here.
So for me, it’s the dramas, old and new. And in no particular order other than how I thought about them...
To wit:
1. “Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip”
Monday nights, NBC
Admittedly, I was somewhat pre-disposed to liking this show. Aaron Sorkin has long been one of my favorite television writers, and his previous series – the massively underappreciated “Sports Night” and the consistently brilliant (at least when Sorkin was running the show) “The West Wing” – are two of TV’s best, ever.
Maybe it should be no surprise that “Studio 60” seems to be a mix of both. Maybe it should also be no surprise that “Studio 60” is so cool it’s hemmoraging viewers. Too smart? Too inside? Too much?
I’m worried that Sorkin’s words seem a bit overwrought at times. I’m worried that it seems like this is all rather much for a show about a televison show – do we have to take ourselves so fucking seriously? And I’m worried about where this thing is going past the seventh or eighth episode. The first show. The first focus group. The first cast defection. The first insert live feed to West Coast viewers (last night).
God, you can feel it, can’t you?
Still, with a crackling dream team cast – Matthew Perry, Bradley Whitford, Amanda Peet, Steven Weber, etc., etc., etc. – “Studio” shined from its very first seconds. And you know what? It’s only gotten better since.
Dotted line: •••-/12
2. “The Nine”
Wednesday nights, ABC
Based on its pilot alone, I prepared to name this the best new series of the season, an honor I’d saved for “Studio 60” before viewing the first week of “The Nine,” a relationship-mystery-flashback drama in the style of “Lost,” but without the unbelievable desert island shenanigans, other worldly visions and polar bears.
The quick study cast – Tim Daly, Kim Raver, Chi McBride and Scott Wolf all play variations on characters they’ve done before – was instantly comfortable both with one another and for us as viewers; the cast is so appealing and familiar it was no problem to get caught up in the drama of their original hostage standoff, which drives the story for the rest of the season. In the pilot, we’re left guessing what exactly happened to the nine hostages during a tension filled hostage negotiation that lasted more than two days. Presumably, those mysteries will be addressed – and further questions raised – as the weeks go along.
I’m normally more skeptical when asked to go along for the ride – Christ, I gave up on “Vanished” after one and one-half episodes, which seems like a somewhat intelligent choice given the show’s ratings and critical drubbings – but with “The Nine” (and if Daly, Raver and Wolf are in), I’m in for the long haul.
Dotted line: ••••
3. “Brothers & Sisters”
Sunday nights, ABC
Much like “The Nine,” ABC’s new Sunday-night drama has a quick shorthand cast – Calista Flockhart, Rachel Griffiths, Sally Field, etc., doing riffs on familiar characters they’ve created elsewhere. And the production team is clearly looking for a “thirtysomething” riff; this is a family that loves each other despite it all, arguing and joking along the way.
I’m not sold yet, but I’ll admit it’s somewhere to go on Sunday nights. And, in this odd age of every series on television following the “Lost”-“24” model of odd concepts unraveling themselves over the course of a season, it’s somewhat refreshing to stumble into a good old relationship drama, cleverly played by an exceptional cast.
Sure, it all gets a bit melodramatic once in while. That’s OK. I’m willing to see what happens with this family. Especially if they keep doing those “Grey’s”/”Cold Caase” music montages to close episodes while we stare into character’s eyes, like we did after the third episode Sunday night.
Damn you, clever producers who know music!
Dotted line: •••
The returnees...
1. “Grey’s Anatomy” (season 2)
Thursday nights, ABC
I’m a little uneasy with all this McVet vs. McDreamy bullshit that’s leading off the third season – just get it over with, for God’s sake, Meredith – and there are times when “Grey’s Anatomy” (ostensibly a medical drama, but actually more along the lines of “Melrose Place,” but without the bombings and Heather Locklear) feels a little, well, precious.
But fuck me. It’s fun, and sexy, and flirty, and provocative. The women on this show are really hot, and the guys are heroic (except for George, who’s just kind of pathetic). I don’t particularly think of this as what goes on around a real hospital – but those tanks and helicopters bursting through the doors of the ER on “E.R.” didn’t exactly do much to convince me, either.
Instead, what “Grey’s” does better than almost any other show on TV right now is respect its audience: It plays to its strengths, and its weaknesses. It understands what works, and what doesn’t. “Grey’s Anatomy” is like a good-looking girl who knows that if she wears her hair this way or her makeup that way, she’ll really be smoking. It knows its assets. And it goes to them every single week.
Dotted line: •••-/12
2. “Lost” (season 3)
Wednesday nights, ABC
Uh, I don’t know. What’s everyone else thinking?
Me? I’m a little ambivalent. I watched the season 3 premiere and thought it was well-done, tense and clever. Still, I couldn’t help but feeling a little cheated. Maybe I’m tiring of the game. Maybe I’m tiring of being lost.
I don’t like shows where there are no rules, or where they can keep changing the game. I don’t mind a little hocus-pocus here and there – they killed Angel on “Buffy, the Vampire Slayer,” but a mysterious higher power dropped him back to Earth the next season – with these supernatural shows. Hell, I’ll even encourage it: I think they should have left Jennifer Garner’s real-life pregnancy out of the final year of “Alias.” (They could have explained her burgeoning belly as the result of aliens, or something.)
But, “Lost?” Yeah, I don’t know. “Twin Peaks” pissed me off about halfway through its second season, when it still couldn’t quite resolve the mysteries of Laura Palmer’s death and I decided, “who the fuck cares?” And “The X-Files” incited me toward the end – they still didn’t really address the whole evil government conspiracy mythology bullshit and they were trying to play smoke and mirrors with the fact that David Duchovny was no longer in the show. I watched out of obligation, not anticipation. I watched because I wanted to see where it went but was disappointed when I ultimately realized it didn’t go anywhere.
I have nothing but respect and admiration for the basic “Lost” formula. I love its characters and actors. I’m knocked out by the work of its writers and producers. I’m sure I’ll keep watching, and my opinions will be all over the place. That’s how I felt all through season 2. They dragged their feet for episodes on end and then every once in a while would pull a fucking rabbit out and keep everyone buzzing.
So, God. Keep changing the rules. Think you’ve guessed this? We’ll try that. You zig. We zag. Just when you think you know what things mean … here’s a fucking polar bear in a cage, that'll throw you off.
That’s fun for a while. But it gets old. For a while, it’s “what will they think of next?” And then it becomes, “fool me once, shame on you. Fool me, twice – screw you.”
Dotted line: ••-1/2
3. “Boston Legal” (season 3)
Tuesday nights, ABC
First of all, had you told me a few months ago that the three returning dramas I’d be most interested in (pending the return of “24” on Fox in January) would all be on ABC, I’d be surprised. But then again, when you consider that most of what CBS has in its dramatic quiver are variations on “C.S.I.” (including all the shows that are not “C.S.I.” but could be, like episodes of “Cold Case,” “Without A Trace” and/or “N.C.I.S.”) And most of what NBC is showing are variations of “Law and Order.” So maybe ABC is where it’s at.
“Boston Legal” is unlike anything else on TV. It’s a legal drama like “The Practice” and “L.A. Law,” but it’s also a dramedy, like “Ally McBeal.” It’s from David E. Kelley, who wrote and/or produced all of the above, but it’s not particularly like any of those shows. In this one, it’s almost like Kelley threw out all the old rules and decided to do something that would just amuse him.
There are no particularly dramatic arcs on “Boston Legal,” and the show’s habit of breaking its fourth wall (it’s not uncommon for star William Shatner, in particular, to somehow refer to the show’s audience in a kind of meta-universe language of self-awareness) has made even its most serious moments and most blatantly political arguments less alarming and more pedestrian. But that’s OK.
For “Boston Legal” will always have James Spader, and Spader in his prime – far away from those John Hughes movies, and “Sex, Lies and Videotape” – is absolutely so fucking brilliant, you can’t help but love his coy wit, dry intelligence and dysfunctional by-play. This is a TV writer’s TV character, embodied by an actor who absolutely wants to sell the audience on his own sense of loss, loneliness, melancholia. My dream? Bring back one or two of “The Practice” attorneys to fight it out with Spader’s Alan Shore in a courtroom drama or two. When he was on that show, I’d root for them. Now, I root for him.
Dotted line: •••-1/2
# # #
ON THE DOT: Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. And remember, as always, this is just an exhibition; it is not a competition – so please, no wagering. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
MY SIX QUICK PICKS
(What I'm endorsing this week)
By JOHN YOUNGREN
Can you feel the snap in the air? The chill in the night? The smell in the morning? The dew on the leaves?
The leaves on the lawn?
It’s fall, baby. That time again. The time of things ending and new beginnings. The time of anniversaries, the weather changing and cleaning out the summer wardrobe.
For whatever reason, I’ve always loved this time of year. I’ve always loved fall, because:
1. The TV Season Begins. Nothing was more thrilling than a trip to the grocery store this time of year, when – since I was a kid, and yes, I was an odd child – I’d go searching for the thicker-than-thick special Fall Preview edition of TV Guide, the bible of everything to look for (“Returning Favorites!” “New Shows!”) in the new fall television season. Geeky as this may sound, the TV Guide Fall Preview edition was like a Christmas catalogue of everything I was fascinated by and thrilled to anticipate as a new TV season began. Pictures of the stars were always so sexy, so creative. The write-ups on the shows (be they returning or new) were done with style and pith. I couldn’t get enough. Today – with mulit-media and blogs and youtube and mucho, mucho media previewing everything – I’m sure this all seems rather quaint, and there is no doubt that by the time TV Guide rolls around, I’ve pretty much already heard about much of the fall season to come; there are no surprises. Hell, even the fall season isn’t the fall season anymore – cable keeps shows coming all summer, and reality TV and other gimmicks have taken the sheen off the anticipation. Still, when TV Guide’s “Fall Preview” edition turned up (and I get it in the mail these days), I had to stop everything. It's still TV Guide. Time to soak it all in. Time to get serious about TV for the fall.
2. School Starts. Yeah, maybe this wasn’t so much fun when I was actually in school, back in the day. But you’ve got to admit – there’s still something exciting about all the crossing guards on duty again; all the kids with their new clothes and their new school boxes (do they still have school boxes?) and their new Trapper Keepers (do they still have Trapper Keepers?), heading up Lincoln Lane to begin another year of school. As I don’t have kids, I guess what school starting mostly does for me is inspire memories – snapshots of elementary, junior high, high school and college. I can still remember rushing to the pages tape to the window to see what class I was in. Wearing new fall clothes when it was still a little too hot outside. Catching a glimpse of the girl I left behind a summer ago, now looking better (or more grown up) than ever before. Sizing up new classes, new desks, new lockers, new friends, new schedules, new arrangements, new circumstances. Fall always does this for me, whether I’m in school or not. And a few years out of school has taught me that I shouldn’t have been in such a rush. School starts. Relish it. It's over too soon.
3. (Fantasy) Football Begins. And NFL and college ball, too. But I belong to three – count ‘em, three – Fantasy Football Leagues, and if you’re out there and reading this and don’t know what I’m talking about when I talk Fantasy Football, you’re about 20 years behind. This is when geeks like me draft fantasy teams – full of real players, who are going to score and do great things on the field over the next few weeks – and try to ride the individual players’ statistics to personal greatness, counting every (let’s say) Peyton Manning touchdown as one of my own as time goes by and I kick the shit out of my fellow Fantasy Football owners for points, glory and money (not necessarily in that order). One draft in one league, I’ve been doing for about 18 years now (though I still sometimes feel like a new guy). My second league is even more serious, and I’ve easily been involved with this group for eight or 10 years now. The group at my office just started a league this season, and of course I got involved. The funny thing is, back in the day, this all used to be so much more involved. You’d have to go to the bookstore weeks early to begin buying magazines and books about the football season to come, hoping against God that they weren’t printed too soon, or that there wasn’t too many roster changes to contend with between the publishing of the book and the drafting of your league, when you were pretty much guaranteed to always make an ass of yourself as you were choosing some player whose knee had just blown, or had just been picked up for a D.U.I. These days, “fantasy cheater” websites take care of all that – for a small fee, you can get the latest lists and breakdowns on players throughout the league. It gets to the point where, on draft night, you can practically predict who’s going to choose who next, as most of the participants in any given league are using variations on the same list. The advent of all this technology and services has truly made my life easier. But I’m not sure it’s made drafting any more fun.
4. RUSH Week. Maybe the epitome of everything I said above, RUSH Week is another rite of fall – and another pleasant memory, after all these years have gone by. I still can’t get to this time of year without thinking of that fall, all those years ago, on the University of Utah campus. That’s when I decided to dodge Sigma Chi and basically suicide Beta Theta Pi, because that’s where all my buddies were anyway. To this day (and living just a few blocks from the U campus, where it all happened to begin with), I can still see myself meeting new people, wearing my blue blazer and wondering who I’d meet and what would happen next. In later years, I can see myself, uh, rushing to the Beta house, throwing on that same blazer and reaching out my right hand to meet all those would-be pledges coming through. School’s up. It’s time for RUSH. Man, where do those years go?
5. Baseball's Finale. Major League Baseball hits the post-season in late September and throughout October, and there is nothing like this time of year for heightened celebration – no matter what anyone else says. This is certainly the case for me. I live and die for no other team, in no other sport, like I do the New York Yankees. In the ‘70s, the Yankees became my team – because I was a kid and didn’t know better. In the ‘80s, I stood suffering by – while big-name lineups with guys like Jack Clark and Rickey Henderson were all sound and fury. Many losing seasons went by. But now, I’ve had to great fortune to see the Yankees go to the post-season nearly every season in the past 15 years or so; I’ve seen them win World Series and avenge playoff losses and give up big leads and come back from lopsided losses. I’ve watched the games on CBS, NBC, ESPN and Fox. I’ve listened on the radio, tapped in on the internet and juggled my real-life events around enough to see the latest game on TV. I passed up love, for example, in the mid-'90s. But I don’t care. The bitch let me down. The Yankees always stood by me, strong.
6. The Weather Gets Colder. Yeah, I don’t look good in sandals. Even less so in shorts. Not much for a T-shirt. Not much for a dork.
So, no complaints. The damn weather will be getting colder than ever. And with jeans, boots and a jacket, I look better. Trust me. I know.
# # #
ON THE DOT: Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. And remember, as always, this is just an exhibition; it is not a competition – so please, no wagering. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
(What I'm endorsing this week)
By JOHN YOUNGREN
Can you feel the snap in the air? The chill in the night? The smell in the morning? The dew on the leaves?
The leaves on the lawn?
It’s fall, baby. That time again. The time of things ending and new beginnings. The time of anniversaries, the weather changing and cleaning out the summer wardrobe.
For whatever reason, I’ve always loved this time of year. I’ve always loved fall, because:
1. The TV Season Begins. Nothing was more thrilling than a trip to the grocery store this time of year, when – since I was a kid, and yes, I was an odd child – I’d go searching for the thicker-than-thick special Fall Preview edition of TV Guide, the bible of everything to look for (“Returning Favorites!” “New Shows!”) in the new fall television season. Geeky as this may sound, the TV Guide Fall Preview edition was like a Christmas catalogue of everything I was fascinated by and thrilled to anticipate as a new TV season began. Pictures of the stars were always so sexy, so creative. The write-ups on the shows (be they returning or new) were done with style and pith. I couldn’t get enough. Today – with mulit-media and blogs and youtube and mucho, mucho media previewing everything – I’m sure this all seems rather quaint, and there is no doubt that by the time TV Guide rolls around, I’ve pretty much already heard about much of the fall season to come; there are no surprises. Hell, even the fall season isn’t the fall season anymore – cable keeps shows coming all summer, and reality TV and other gimmicks have taken the sheen off the anticipation. Still, when TV Guide’s “Fall Preview” edition turned up (and I get it in the mail these days), I had to stop everything. It's still TV Guide. Time to soak it all in. Time to get serious about TV for the fall.
2. School Starts. Yeah, maybe this wasn’t so much fun when I was actually in school, back in the day. But you’ve got to admit – there’s still something exciting about all the crossing guards on duty again; all the kids with their new clothes and their new school boxes (do they still have school boxes?) and their new Trapper Keepers (do they still have Trapper Keepers?), heading up Lincoln Lane to begin another year of school. As I don’t have kids, I guess what school starting mostly does for me is inspire memories – snapshots of elementary, junior high, high school and college. I can still remember rushing to the pages tape to the window to see what class I was in. Wearing new fall clothes when it was still a little too hot outside. Catching a glimpse of the girl I left behind a summer ago, now looking better (or more grown up) than ever before. Sizing up new classes, new desks, new lockers, new friends, new schedules, new arrangements, new circumstances. Fall always does this for me, whether I’m in school or not. And a few years out of school has taught me that I shouldn’t have been in such a rush. School starts. Relish it. It's over too soon.
3. (Fantasy) Football Begins. And NFL and college ball, too. But I belong to three – count ‘em, three – Fantasy Football Leagues, and if you’re out there and reading this and don’t know what I’m talking about when I talk Fantasy Football, you’re about 20 years behind. This is when geeks like me draft fantasy teams – full of real players, who are going to score and do great things on the field over the next few weeks – and try to ride the individual players’ statistics to personal greatness, counting every (let’s say) Peyton Manning touchdown as one of my own as time goes by and I kick the shit out of my fellow Fantasy Football owners for points, glory and money (not necessarily in that order). One draft in one league, I’ve been doing for about 18 years now (though I still sometimes feel like a new guy). My second league is even more serious, and I’ve easily been involved with this group for eight or 10 years now. The group at my office just started a league this season, and of course I got involved. The funny thing is, back in the day, this all used to be so much more involved. You’d have to go to the bookstore weeks early to begin buying magazines and books about the football season to come, hoping against God that they weren’t printed too soon, or that there wasn’t too many roster changes to contend with between the publishing of the book and the drafting of your league, when you were pretty much guaranteed to always make an ass of yourself as you were choosing some player whose knee had just blown, or had just been picked up for a D.U.I. These days, “fantasy cheater” websites take care of all that – for a small fee, you can get the latest lists and breakdowns on players throughout the league. It gets to the point where, on draft night, you can practically predict who’s going to choose who next, as most of the participants in any given league are using variations on the same list. The advent of all this technology and services has truly made my life easier. But I’m not sure it’s made drafting any more fun.
4. RUSH Week. Maybe the epitome of everything I said above, RUSH Week is another rite of fall – and another pleasant memory, after all these years have gone by. I still can’t get to this time of year without thinking of that fall, all those years ago, on the University of Utah campus. That’s when I decided to dodge Sigma Chi and basically suicide Beta Theta Pi, because that’s where all my buddies were anyway. To this day (and living just a few blocks from the U campus, where it all happened to begin with), I can still see myself meeting new people, wearing my blue blazer and wondering who I’d meet and what would happen next. In later years, I can see myself, uh, rushing to the Beta house, throwing on that same blazer and reaching out my right hand to meet all those would-be pledges coming through. School’s up. It’s time for RUSH. Man, where do those years go?
5. Baseball's Finale. Major League Baseball hits the post-season in late September and throughout October, and there is nothing like this time of year for heightened celebration – no matter what anyone else says. This is certainly the case for me. I live and die for no other team, in no other sport, like I do the New York Yankees. In the ‘70s, the Yankees became my team – because I was a kid and didn’t know better. In the ‘80s, I stood suffering by – while big-name lineups with guys like Jack Clark and Rickey Henderson were all sound and fury. Many losing seasons went by. But now, I’ve had to great fortune to see the Yankees go to the post-season nearly every season in the past 15 years or so; I’ve seen them win World Series and avenge playoff losses and give up big leads and come back from lopsided losses. I’ve watched the games on CBS, NBC, ESPN and Fox. I’ve listened on the radio, tapped in on the internet and juggled my real-life events around enough to see the latest game on TV. I passed up love, for example, in the mid-'90s. But I don’t care. The bitch let me down. The Yankees always stood by me, strong.
6. The Weather Gets Colder. Yeah, I don’t look good in sandals. Even less so in shorts. Not much for a T-shirt. Not much for a dork.
So, no complaints. The damn weather will be getting colder than ever. And with jeans, boots and a jacket, I look better. Trust me. I know.
# # #
ON THE DOT: Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. And remember, as always, this is just an exhibition; it is not a competition – so please, no wagering. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
Thursday, August 31, 2006
YET ANOTHER LIST: MY OWN TOP 25 TV CHARACTERS, EVER
By JOHN YOUNGREN
Here’s the deal: A few weeks ago, a screenwriter (with a blog) named James Gunn penned an entry highlighting his list of his favorite 25 TV characters, ever.
Blogs being what they are, the list got picked up and commented upon all around the www, including at the Entertainment Weekly website (“Popwatch”) and the USA Today website (“Pop Candy”).
Hmm. I used to call this website “Pop Stew.” (Don’t believe me? Check the archives.) Anyone noticing a trend here? And that was my name first.
But I digress. Back to Gunn. Probably the most interesting response to his list of favorite TV characters came from “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” writer/director extraordinaire Joss Whedon, who listed his own personal top 25 TV peeps on whedonesque.com.
And you can imagine what happened from there. Gunn told two friends, and Joss told two friends, and so on and so on and so on.
And now you can figure where I’m going: Because I figured, no – I’m no fancy-ass screenwriter like Gunn or Whedon, but I was a professional TV critic for a few years back there in the ‘90s, meaning people actually paid me for my opinions on these matters. Plus, there’s the not-insignificant fact that I’ve been watching TV (pretty much qualifying me as an expert) for about 40 years now. Intensively.
As the Judds would sing, “why not me?”
So I made my own fucking list.
Both Gunn and Whedon made a pretty big deal about how these were the characters that just popped – there’s that word again – to mind in a few minutes, no great studying or research needed or intended. So I took that to heart, too, and banged these out in a few minutes over a glass of Chardonnay and a cigar on the deck. (I did spell-check, however. I’m funny that way.)
Gunn’s original guidelines on choosing his characters were pretty basic:
• No puppets or cartoons.
• No mini-series.
• No reality show people.
• All characters must be regulars on the show.
I’ll follow Gunn’s rules and now offer my own list.
Remember, these are my choices – my favorites. You can have your own, but then post them somewhere yourself.
And no, they’re not in any particular order, really:
1. Jack Bauer (Kiefer Sutherland), “24.” Tell me there’s been a fucking cooler character on TV, ever. Thank God Emmy got something right this year.
2. Buffy Summers (Sarah Michelle Gellar), “Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.” Whedon’s own ass-kicking heroine. It didn’t hurt that Gellar is smoking hot.
3. Capt. James T. Kirk (William Shatner), “Star Trek.” Long before he revived his career as Denny Crane, Shatner made his career as the ass-kicking, ass-chasing captain.
4. Capt. Jean-Luc Picard (Patrick Stewart), “Star Trek – The Next Generation.” Picard could kick ass – but it was his cerebral sense of command that made him so great. Plus, good bald.
5. Larry Sanders (Garry Shandling), “The Larry Sanders Show.” This was Garry Shandling, basically, playing a character more or less based on himself. In today’s “Curb Your Enthusiasm” template, he would have just used his real name.
6. Jim Rockford (James Garner), “The Rockford Files.” When I was a kid, that “$200 a day plus expenses” arrangement sounded pretty damn good.
7. Michael Kuzak (Harry Hamlin), “L.A. Law.” One of television’s best-ever crusading lawyers, and the best role Hamlin ever had.
8. Hawkeye Pierce (Alan Alda), “M*A*S*H.” I can still hear Hawkeye’s comebacks and jokes in my head, 30 years later. Despite the pompous later years, Hawkeye rules.
9. Brenda Walsh (Shannen Doherty), “Beverly Hills, 90210.” My original teen angsty semi-misunderstood babe. If she slayed vampires, she’d have it all.
10. Josh Lyman (Bradley Whitford), “The West Wing.” I always thought if I was a character on “The West Wing,” I’d be Josh.
11. Mark Greene (Anthony Edwards), “ER.” “Love’s Labor Lost?” Best. Episode. Ever. Greene is Dr. God. Plus, good bald.
12. Rachel Karen Green (Jennifer Aniston), “Friends.” Long before she was Mrs. Brad Pitt or met Vince Vaughn, I like to think I discovered Jennifer Aniston.
13. Chandler Bing (Matthew Perry), “Friends.” To this day, no one can deliver a dumb line with more pluck than Chandler.
14. Fox Mulder (David Duchovny), “The X-Files.” Talk about cool under pressure. Cerebral, heroic. Plus, lonely guy who loves porn. What’s not to love?
15. John Kelly (David Caruso), “NYPD Blue.” Some would argue Andy Sipowicz, and I certainly have great respect for Dennis Franz – especially given the fact that he stayed with the show. But Caruso as Kelly in that first year? No TV character was better defined, better played or more forcefully sympathetic. He made “you OK?” a catchphrase.
16. Michael Steadman (Ken Olin), “thirtysomething.” The center of this fine ensemble. Maybe it’s the ad guy in me. I always hoped I’d be Michael and get Hope. I’m still waiting.
17. Sydney Bristow (Jennifer Garner), “Alias.” Another ass-kicking heroine. Another smoking hot babe. Plus, she had wigs!
18. Sam Malone (Ted Danson), “Cheers.” When you watch Danson do it, he makes everything Sam is about just so damn funny. A great underrated character on a maybe overrated series. (Yes, I said that.)
19. Jerry Seinfeld (Jerry Seinfeld), “Seinfeld.” Sure, Seinfeld was spinning on himself and wasn’t the best actor in the early years. And George, Kramer and Elaine were all more “out there.” But Jerry could be so cutting, so vindictive, so neurotic, so selfish. So me. So you. That’s why we love him.
20. Veronica Mars (Kristen Bell), “Veronica Mars.” The current model of the ass-kicking heroine, although she doesn’t kick it as often as she just out-thinks everyone around her. And Bell pulls it off beautifully (pun intended).
21. Col. Hogan (Bob Crane), “Hogan’s Heroes.” When I was a kid, I wanted to be in charge of a group of prisoners in a P.O.W. camp during World War II. That’s acting. Plus, I wanted that hat and that jacket. That’s wardrobe.
22. Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker), “Sex & The City.” No ass kicking. But you’ve got to love the fact that Carrie was a writer with one column due every week and she always found time to read it aloud as she wrote (which I’m doing right now, ironically). Plus, Parker? Hot. And sexy shoes.
23. Bobby Donnell (Dylan McDermott), “The Practice.” Michael Kuzak, the Next Generation.
24. David Brent (Ricky Gervais), “The Office” (BBC version). Gervais hits so close to home it generally kills. The episode where he’s a motivational speaker? Hate to say it. That’s me.
25. President Jed Bartlet (Martin Sheen), “The West Wing.” I’d vote for him again and again. Even his dopier moments were far more inspiring than anything you’ll find in real life, at least at the moment.
# # #
ON THE DOT: Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. And remember, as always, this is just an exhibition; it is not a competition – so please, no wagering. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
By JOHN YOUNGREN
Here’s the deal: A few weeks ago, a screenwriter (with a blog) named James Gunn penned an entry highlighting his list of his favorite 25 TV characters, ever.
Blogs being what they are, the list got picked up and commented upon all around the www, including at the Entertainment Weekly website (“Popwatch”) and the USA Today website (“Pop Candy”).
Hmm. I used to call this website “Pop Stew.” (Don’t believe me? Check the archives.) Anyone noticing a trend here? And that was my name first.
But I digress. Back to Gunn. Probably the most interesting response to his list of favorite TV characters came from “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” writer/director extraordinaire Joss Whedon, who listed his own personal top 25 TV peeps on whedonesque.com.
And you can imagine what happened from there. Gunn told two friends, and Joss told two friends, and so on and so on and so on.
And now you can figure where I’m going: Because I figured, no – I’m no fancy-ass screenwriter like Gunn or Whedon, but I was a professional TV critic for a few years back there in the ‘90s, meaning people actually paid me for my opinions on these matters. Plus, there’s the not-insignificant fact that I’ve been watching TV (pretty much qualifying me as an expert) for about 40 years now. Intensively.
As the Judds would sing, “why not me?”
So I made my own fucking list.
Both Gunn and Whedon made a pretty big deal about how these were the characters that just popped – there’s that word again – to mind in a few minutes, no great studying or research needed or intended. So I took that to heart, too, and banged these out in a few minutes over a glass of Chardonnay and a cigar on the deck. (I did spell-check, however. I’m funny that way.)
Gunn’s original guidelines on choosing his characters were pretty basic:
• No puppets or cartoons.
• No mini-series.
• No reality show people.
• All characters must be regulars on the show.
I’ll follow Gunn’s rules and now offer my own list.
Remember, these are my choices – my favorites. You can have your own, but then post them somewhere yourself.
And no, they’re not in any particular order, really:
1. Jack Bauer (Kiefer Sutherland), “24.” Tell me there’s been a fucking cooler character on TV, ever. Thank God Emmy got something right this year.
2. Buffy Summers (Sarah Michelle Gellar), “Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.” Whedon’s own ass-kicking heroine. It didn’t hurt that Gellar is smoking hot.
3. Capt. James T. Kirk (William Shatner), “Star Trek.” Long before he revived his career as Denny Crane, Shatner made his career as the ass-kicking, ass-chasing captain.
4. Capt. Jean-Luc Picard (Patrick Stewart), “Star Trek – The Next Generation.” Picard could kick ass – but it was his cerebral sense of command that made him so great. Plus, good bald.
5. Larry Sanders (Garry Shandling), “The Larry Sanders Show.” This was Garry Shandling, basically, playing a character more or less based on himself. In today’s “Curb Your Enthusiasm” template, he would have just used his real name.
6. Jim Rockford (James Garner), “The Rockford Files.” When I was a kid, that “$200 a day plus expenses” arrangement sounded pretty damn good.
7. Michael Kuzak (Harry Hamlin), “L.A. Law.” One of television’s best-ever crusading lawyers, and the best role Hamlin ever had.
8. Hawkeye Pierce (Alan Alda), “M*A*S*H.” I can still hear Hawkeye’s comebacks and jokes in my head, 30 years later. Despite the pompous later years, Hawkeye rules.
9. Brenda Walsh (Shannen Doherty), “Beverly Hills, 90210.” My original teen angsty semi-misunderstood babe. If she slayed vampires, she’d have it all.
10. Josh Lyman (Bradley Whitford), “The West Wing.” I always thought if I was a character on “The West Wing,” I’d be Josh.
11. Mark Greene (Anthony Edwards), “ER.” “Love’s Labor Lost?” Best. Episode. Ever. Greene is Dr. God. Plus, good bald.
12. Rachel Karen Green (Jennifer Aniston), “Friends.” Long before she was Mrs. Brad Pitt or met Vince Vaughn, I like to think I discovered Jennifer Aniston.
13. Chandler Bing (Matthew Perry), “Friends.” To this day, no one can deliver a dumb line with more pluck than Chandler.
14. Fox Mulder (David Duchovny), “The X-Files.” Talk about cool under pressure. Cerebral, heroic. Plus, lonely guy who loves porn. What’s not to love?
15. John Kelly (David Caruso), “NYPD Blue.” Some would argue Andy Sipowicz, and I certainly have great respect for Dennis Franz – especially given the fact that he stayed with the show. But Caruso as Kelly in that first year? No TV character was better defined, better played or more forcefully sympathetic. He made “you OK?” a catchphrase.
16. Michael Steadman (Ken Olin), “thirtysomething.” The center of this fine ensemble. Maybe it’s the ad guy in me. I always hoped I’d be Michael and get Hope. I’m still waiting.
17. Sydney Bristow (Jennifer Garner), “Alias.” Another ass-kicking heroine. Another smoking hot babe. Plus, she had wigs!
18. Sam Malone (Ted Danson), “Cheers.” When you watch Danson do it, he makes everything Sam is about just so damn funny. A great underrated character on a maybe overrated series. (Yes, I said that.)
19. Jerry Seinfeld (Jerry Seinfeld), “Seinfeld.” Sure, Seinfeld was spinning on himself and wasn’t the best actor in the early years. And George, Kramer and Elaine were all more “out there.” But Jerry could be so cutting, so vindictive, so neurotic, so selfish. So me. So you. That’s why we love him.
20. Veronica Mars (Kristen Bell), “Veronica Mars.” The current model of the ass-kicking heroine, although she doesn’t kick it as often as she just out-thinks everyone around her. And Bell pulls it off beautifully (pun intended).
21. Col. Hogan (Bob Crane), “Hogan’s Heroes.” When I was a kid, I wanted to be in charge of a group of prisoners in a P.O.W. camp during World War II. That’s acting. Plus, I wanted that hat and that jacket. That’s wardrobe.
22. Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker), “Sex & The City.” No ass kicking. But you’ve got to love the fact that Carrie was a writer with one column due every week and she always found time to read it aloud as she wrote (which I’m doing right now, ironically). Plus, Parker? Hot. And sexy shoes.
23. Bobby Donnell (Dylan McDermott), “The Practice.” Michael Kuzak, the Next Generation.
24. David Brent (Ricky Gervais), “The Office” (BBC version). Gervais hits so close to home it generally kills. The episode where he’s a motivational speaker? Hate to say it. That’s me.
25. President Jed Bartlet (Martin Sheen), “The West Wing.” I’d vote for him again and again. Even his dopier moments were far more inspiring than anything you’ll find in real life, at least at the moment.
# # #
ON THE DOT: Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. And remember, as always, this is just an exhibition; it is not a competition – so please, no wagering. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
MY SIX QUICK PICKS
(What I’m Endorsing This Week)
By JOHN YOUNGREN
1. “Breaking Up with Shannen Doherty” on Oxygen cable. I had my doubts about this little escapade, which just premiered this week. Still, I’m a longtime fan of the ever-sultry Ms. Doherty, dating back to her semi-misunderstood bad-girl antics on “Beverly Hills, 90210.” And, after watching back-to-back premiere episodes, I have to say I was pleasantly surprised and sincerely amused. The title of the show should say it all, and the quirky premise is simple: Men and/or women involved in a relationship (but not liking where it’s heading) go to Shannen for help and advice. Her expertise aside, she agrees to jump in by confronting the significant other in question and issuing an ultimatum – it’s time to move the relationship along, one way or another. Though the title implies otherwise, it’s not all about breaking up. In the first two episodes (each episode features two couples and their stories), one couple even ended up getting engaged. Despite her sometimes bitchy reputation, Shannen is perfectly appealing throughout; the actress (who is also a co-creator and producer of the show) hasn’t looked this hot since her days as the oldest witch on “Charmed.” Best of all, she seems to be getting a genuine kick out of meeting these Average Janes and Joes and helping them assess their situations – she even sprinkles in references to her own checkered romantic past. If the “Pun’k’d”-style antics (it takes some doing to get Shannen in the room with an unsuspecting victim while his or her significant other hides behind the glass) seem a bit contrived, the show makes up for it by, er, charmingly revealing how many of these people seem to go gaga over Shannen: In fact, she got hit on by the men being dumped in two of the first four instances. Where do I sign up for some of that shit? Shannen, count me in. The Dotted Line: •••
2. Fox’s Joe Buck. He may be the best play-by-play announcer of my generation, so distinguished – so cool, so dry, so funny, so knowledgeable – is Joe Buck of Fox. And this fall, the network made a momentous decision: With the departure of ace host James Brown from Fox’s NFL pre-game show, the network has decided to elevate Buck to Brown’s position, alongside Terry Bradshaw, Howie Long and Jimmy Johnson. Big deal? Well, Fox is also leaving Buck in his lead NFL play-by-play position, with Troy Aikman. Meaning, in a nutshell, that the Fox pre-game show is going on the road, giving Joe a chance to host the pre-game hour each Sunday before bouncing upstairs to call the big game of the week. Not only is it creative and innovative on Fox’s part, but no one deserves it more – and Fox deserves credit for staking its claim – than Buck. The son of legendary sportscaster Jack “This Ball May Go!” Buck, Joe Buck is largely associated with St. Louis Cardinals baseball and the tradition of that city. But, like NBC’s Bob Costas (ironically, the host of NBC’S new “Sunday Night Football”), Joe Buck is both a throwback to the announcers of a more innocent time (who respected the sports they were covering) and the best example of the modern sportscaster – witty, literate and engaged beyond the strikes and balls he calls. Buck also isn’t afraid to laugh at himself: Witness his Holiday Inn commercials, running right now. The best? When a goofy fan tries to “do” his Joe Buck impression while waiting for an elevator as Buck stares on. Priceless.
3. Gin Blossoms, “Major Lodge Victory” CD. With their mellow harmonies, pop hooks and smart guitars, the Gin Blossoms were never a smash act – but they did contribute to the background sound of the early-to-mid ‘90s, producing two standout albums (“New Miserable Experience” and “Congratulations I’m Sorry”) amid a host of movie soundtrack covers and other one-shot highlights. Never hitting the mammoth (but short-lived) success of Hootie & The Blowfish or the literate pop acceptability (and durability) of Counting Crows, the Gin Blossoms nevertheless help define that era for me, and their painful-lyrics-but-poppy-music approach remains a constant on my personal CD mixes and iPOD smart lists. “Alison Road,” “Hey Jealousy” and “Found Out About You” are among highlights of the era, sparked by Robin Wilson’s soaring vocals and the band’s easy accessibility. Needless to say, things were never as good off-microphone as they were on for the Blossoms, who more or less broke up by 1997, just a few years after the suicide of founding member Doug Hopkins, whose guitars defined the band’s early sound and who wrote many of the group’s early hits (including “Jealousy”). And all that’s a long paragraph of background to get to the fact that the reformed Blossoms are recording again, and their new CD – “Major Lodge Victory” – came out a couple of weeks ago. Despite Hopkins’ absence (and without drummer Phillip Rhodes), the Gin Blossoms have created a gem of a pop album, rich in character and sound and easily comparing to their top albums of the ‘90s. While the first single off the new album, “Learning The Hard Way,” is getting some airplay, there are further delights to be found – as is the Blossoms’ wont – in a few of the album tracks, including “Someday Soon,” “Long Time Gone” and the precious “Let’s Play Two.” Wilson’s vocals, in particular, have never sounded better, more nuanced or more confident. “Major Lodge Victory” is a thrilling return to the form of – what? – 10 or 15 years ago now. God. Has it really been that fucking long? How old am I? The Dotted Line: •••-1/2
4. Veronica Mars, Season 2 on DVD. It just came out this week, and the 22-episode season 2 set of “Mars” on DVD proves to be, if anything, better than the series’ intoxicating first season. Star Kristen Bell – one of the most talented actresses going on television today – is at the center of the “Mars’” mix of teen angst and “Encyclopedia Brown” mystery, geared as it is this season on the mysterious death of a group of students in a school bus crash. The plotting might be cumbersome at times, but Bell’s talents – her appealing look and fresh-faced fashion is only offset by her dry line readings and humorous charm – carry the weight for the most part. “Veronica Mars,” a UPN entry often compared to the better days of “Buffy, The Vampire Slayer,” is going to be a stalwart of the new CW network this fall. So time is short to catch up on the mysteries and characterizations (not to mention Bell’s embodiment) of Mars in this appealing second season set. The Dotted Line: ••••
5. “That’s How They Do It In Dixie,” song and CD by Hank Williams, Jr. with pals Big & Rich, Gretchen Wilson and Van Zant.
So sing along:
Cutoff jeans, and cowboy boots
Long blonde hair and dark brown roots
Lord, pinch me
That’s how they do it in Dixie
Hank Jr. hits the high notes on this new single, a highlight of his new “essential collection.” For some reason (adding to the fun, but not really necessary given the subject matter), he’s got Big & Rich, Gretchen Wilson and Van Zant involved. This makes the video one to remember, but then again – you can probably guess what the video looks like. Yes, there’s one or two or 301 young women in cutoff jeans and cowboy boots. They also happen to be extremely hot. And yes Lord, pinch me. (And if I ever find one of those women with long blonde hair and dark brown roots, I’ll sign her up for my own little rodeo, if you know what I mean.) But that’s what makes this thing so much fun – nobody’s pretending; it’s just a good time, especially when Gretchen comes strutting out and the rest of the girls show off their “belly button dangles and 20-minute tans.” Again – did you get the memo? – pinch me, for God’s sake. That’s how they fucking do it in Dixie. Need we say more? The Dotted Line: ••••
6. Meridian 2005 Chardonnay (prices range from $7.95-$12.95 per bottle, depending upon sales). You’ve read about it before – and my favorite summer Chardonnay, the pride of Santa Barbara County, is hotter than ever, with a newly designed label and a fresh new look. But no matter the price or the logo, Meridian’s patented taste is in tact – slightly on the fruity side, very low in terms of butter and/or oak, and a tangy aftertaste that makes it go down smooth (the colder the better), especially on a hot summer night (with a cigar in the other hand). Lather. Rinse. Repeat. The Dotted Line: ••••
# # #
ON THE DOT: Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. And remember, as always, this is just an exhibition; it is not a competition – so please, no wagering. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
(What I’m Endorsing This Week)
By JOHN YOUNGREN
1. “Breaking Up with Shannen Doherty” on Oxygen cable. I had my doubts about this little escapade, which just premiered this week. Still, I’m a longtime fan of the ever-sultry Ms. Doherty, dating back to her semi-misunderstood bad-girl antics on “Beverly Hills, 90210.” And, after watching back-to-back premiere episodes, I have to say I was pleasantly surprised and sincerely amused. The title of the show should say it all, and the quirky premise is simple: Men and/or women involved in a relationship (but not liking where it’s heading) go to Shannen for help and advice. Her expertise aside, she agrees to jump in by confronting the significant other in question and issuing an ultimatum – it’s time to move the relationship along, one way or another. Though the title implies otherwise, it’s not all about breaking up. In the first two episodes (each episode features two couples and their stories), one couple even ended up getting engaged. Despite her sometimes bitchy reputation, Shannen is perfectly appealing throughout; the actress (who is also a co-creator and producer of the show) hasn’t looked this hot since her days as the oldest witch on “Charmed.” Best of all, she seems to be getting a genuine kick out of meeting these Average Janes and Joes and helping them assess their situations – she even sprinkles in references to her own checkered romantic past. If the “Pun’k’d”-style antics (it takes some doing to get Shannen in the room with an unsuspecting victim while his or her significant other hides behind the glass) seem a bit contrived, the show makes up for it by, er, charmingly revealing how many of these people seem to go gaga over Shannen: In fact, she got hit on by the men being dumped in two of the first four instances. Where do I sign up for some of that shit? Shannen, count me in. The Dotted Line: •••
2. Fox’s Joe Buck. He may be the best play-by-play announcer of my generation, so distinguished – so cool, so dry, so funny, so knowledgeable – is Joe Buck of Fox. And this fall, the network made a momentous decision: With the departure of ace host James Brown from Fox’s NFL pre-game show, the network has decided to elevate Buck to Brown’s position, alongside Terry Bradshaw, Howie Long and Jimmy Johnson. Big deal? Well, Fox is also leaving Buck in his lead NFL play-by-play position, with Troy Aikman. Meaning, in a nutshell, that the Fox pre-game show is going on the road, giving Joe a chance to host the pre-game hour each Sunday before bouncing upstairs to call the big game of the week. Not only is it creative and innovative on Fox’s part, but no one deserves it more – and Fox deserves credit for staking its claim – than Buck. The son of legendary sportscaster Jack “This Ball May Go!” Buck, Joe Buck is largely associated with St. Louis Cardinals baseball and the tradition of that city. But, like NBC’s Bob Costas (ironically, the host of NBC’S new “Sunday Night Football”), Joe Buck is both a throwback to the announcers of a more innocent time (who respected the sports they were covering) and the best example of the modern sportscaster – witty, literate and engaged beyond the strikes and balls he calls. Buck also isn’t afraid to laugh at himself: Witness his Holiday Inn commercials, running right now. The best? When a goofy fan tries to “do” his Joe Buck impression while waiting for an elevator as Buck stares on. Priceless.
3. Gin Blossoms, “Major Lodge Victory” CD. With their mellow harmonies, pop hooks and smart guitars, the Gin Blossoms were never a smash act – but they did contribute to the background sound of the early-to-mid ‘90s, producing two standout albums (“New Miserable Experience” and “Congratulations I’m Sorry”) amid a host of movie soundtrack covers and other one-shot highlights. Never hitting the mammoth (but short-lived) success of Hootie & The Blowfish or the literate pop acceptability (and durability) of Counting Crows, the Gin Blossoms nevertheless help define that era for me, and their painful-lyrics-but-poppy-music approach remains a constant on my personal CD mixes and iPOD smart lists. “Alison Road,” “Hey Jealousy” and “Found Out About You” are among highlights of the era, sparked by Robin Wilson’s soaring vocals and the band’s easy accessibility. Needless to say, things were never as good off-microphone as they were on for the Blossoms, who more or less broke up by 1997, just a few years after the suicide of founding member Doug Hopkins, whose guitars defined the band’s early sound and who wrote many of the group’s early hits (including “Jealousy”). And all that’s a long paragraph of background to get to the fact that the reformed Blossoms are recording again, and their new CD – “Major Lodge Victory” – came out a couple of weeks ago. Despite Hopkins’ absence (and without drummer Phillip Rhodes), the Gin Blossoms have created a gem of a pop album, rich in character and sound and easily comparing to their top albums of the ‘90s. While the first single off the new album, “Learning The Hard Way,” is getting some airplay, there are further delights to be found – as is the Blossoms’ wont – in a few of the album tracks, including “Someday Soon,” “Long Time Gone” and the precious “Let’s Play Two.” Wilson’s vocals, in particular, have never sounded better, more nuanced or more confident. “Major Lodge Victory” is a thrilling return to the form of – what? – 10 or 15 years ago now. God. Has it really been that fucking long? How old am I? The Dotted Line: •••-1/2
4. Veronica Mars, Season 2 on DVD. It just came out this week, and the 22-episode season 2 set of “Mars” on DVD proves to be, if anything, better than the series’ intoxicating first season. Star Kristen Bell – one of the most talented actresses going on television today – is at the center of the “Mars’” mix of teen angst and “Encyclopedia Brown” mystery, geared as it is this season on the mysterious death of a group of students in a school bus crash. The plotting might be cumbersome at times, but Bell’s talents – her appealing look and fresh-faced fashion is only offset by her dry line readings and humorous charm – carry the weight for the most part. “Veronica Mars,” a UPN entry often compared to the better days of “Buffy, The Vampire Slayer,” is going to be a stalwart of the new CW network this fall. So time is short to catch up on the mysteries and characterizations (not to mention Bell’s embodiment) of Mars in this appealing second season set. The Dotted Line: ••••
5. “That’s How They Do It In Dixie,” song and CD by Hank Williams, Jr. with pals Big & Rich, Gretchen Wilson and Van Zant.
So sing along:
Cutoff jeans, and cowboy boots
Long blonde hair and dark brown roots
Lord, pinch me
That’s how they do it in Dixie
Hank Jr. hits the high notes on this new single, a highlight of his new “essential collection.” For some reason (adding to the fun, but not really necessary given the subject matter), he’s got Big & Rich, Gretchen Wilson and Van Zant involved. This makes the video one to remember, but then again – you can probably guess what the video looks like. Yes, there’s one or two or 301 young women in cutoff jeans and cowboy boots. They also happen to be extremely hot. And yes Lord, pinch me. (And if I ever find one of those women with long blonde hair and dark brown roots, I’ll sign her up for my own little rodeo, if you know what I mean.) But that’s what makes this thing so much fun – nobody’s pretending; it’s just a good time, especially when Gretchen comes strutting out and the rest of the girls show off their “belly button dangles and 20-minute tans.” Again – did you get the memo? – pinch me, for God’s sake. That’s how they fucking do it in Dixie. Need we say more? The Dotted Line: ••••
6. Meridian 2005 Chardonnay (prices range from $7.95-$12.95 per bottle, depending upon sales). You’ve read about it before – and my favorite summer Chardonnay, the pride of Santa Barbara County, is hotter than ever, with a newly designed label and a fresh new look. But no matter the price or the logo, Meridian’s patented taste is in tact – slightly on the fruity side, very low in terms of butter and/or oak, and a tangy aftertaste that makes it go down smooth (the colder the better), especially on a hot summer night (with a cigar in the other hand). Lather. Rinse. Repeat. The Dotted Line: ••••
# # #
ON THE DOT: Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. And remember, as always, this is just an exhibition; it is not a competition – so please, no wagering. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
Thursday, August 17, 2006
MY SIX QUICK PICKS:
(What I’m endorsing this week)
By JOHN YOUNGREN
1. The Couric Watch – Don’t know if you’ve heard, but Katie Couric is taking over CBS News. Can you feel it? She hasn’t been on the air since leaving “Today” in late May – a move which, in itself, knocked off a crazy spiral of on-air musical chairs that continues to ripple across all aspects of TV news – but the media can’t get enough of watching and waiting for Katie Couric’s Sept. 5 debut in her new gig, as anchor and managing editor of “The CBS Evening News.” Various media websites and internet bloggers (including this one, I guess, now) have been breathlessly commenting on Couric’s every public utterance since May, and CBS has done a good job of keeping their new girl pretty close to the spotlight – taking her on a multi-city tour, announcing she’ll be doing a blog, reporting for “60 Minutes,” having her newscast simulcast on the web, etc., etc. But, as the date draws near, the big guns are just rolling out; if it’s possible, Katie is finally going mainstream media. She turned up on the cover of Parade last weekend, and she was front and center in USA Today this week. I’d expect a TV Guide cover – hell, maybe a Time cover: “She’s tanned, she’s rested, she’s ready,” like they did for David Letterman when he went from NBC to CBS – and People feature within the next couple of weeks, not to mention appearances on Letterman and with Larry King. America, can you wait? Observers are already buzzing over how she looks and what she’ll be wearing when she debuts, not to mention how she’ll impact the evening news race with Brian Williams and Charles Gibson. Does she have the gravitas? Will she be able to project personality? Will she show off her legs? Will she wear spike heels? Seriously. It’s more fun to talk about than any reality. With all this build-up, her actual debut on Sept. 5 is going to be a letdown. “I have to focus on the work and the new ideas that are percolating here at CBS,” Katie told USA Today. C’mon, Katie. You should at least be having as much fun as everyone else. The waiting is the greatest part.
2. “Gene Simmons Family Jewels” on A&E cable. I’m not a big KISS fan, though I respect the group’s legacy. Still, I have friends who still paint themselves up like demons and cats. And I’ve always had mixed emotions about Gene Simmons, the most famous of the KISS army, who’s now taken a page out of the Osbourne playbook with his behind-the-scenes reality show (featuring his “happily unmarried” partner, former Playmate Shannon Tweed and their teenage children, Nick and Sophie). I have to admit, I stumbled into a few back-to-back repeats of this 30-minute wonder during a Saturday afternoon mini-marathon. And I am entirely amused by Simmons and his brood, who seem to have a very natural, loving relationship down underneath all that makeup. Simmons’ ego can be a bit much to take at times, but he seems to be willing to laugh at himself throughout the series’ contrived situations. Best of yet, his non-wife and kids seem to be able to laugh at him, too. It reminds me of the way my cousins and Aunt Susan make fun of Uncle David. (Simmons' son, Nick, even does a kick-ass Gene Simmons voice impersonation.) New episodes are seen Monday nights, I think. It just debuted a couple of weeks ago. Mini-dot rating: •••
3. Jergens New! Natural Glow Moisturizer. Talk about a Godsend! Well, short of the actual sun, that is. A few years ago, I was rubbing that Neutrogena Sunless Tanning lotion all over myself, so desperate was I to get that summer glow without actually venturing into the sun. Result? I over-rubbed, basically, and in the space of about 10 days I turned my feet orange – kind of a glowing, Martian orange – and didn’t feel comfortable going without socks for about two years. Then I saw that babe Julie Bowen (my favorite part of “Ed” and one of my favorite parts of “Boston Legal,” not to mention that she’s Jack’s ex-wife in “Lost”) doing commercials for the Neutrogena follow-up: MicroMist Tanning. And, thank the good lord above, this seemed like the answer: “No orange hands!,” (as Julie pointed out in the commercials) and for me, “No orange feet!” So I was spraying that around for a summer or two and it seemed to work pretty well, until I discovered that the backs of my feet (mainly around the ankles) and toenails were turning a kind of sickening, maybe-it’s-the-flu orange, like a dirt stain that wouldn’t go away. After people laughed and laughed and I began wearing cowboy boots with my shorts, a friend introduced me to the Jergens New! Natural Glow Moisturizer, which seems like – if you rub it on regularly and remember to exfoliate – it provides a much more natural glow than that Martian shit. I’ve been pleased – in my shower, anyway. I still haven’t gotten around to taking my boots and socks off in public. (I buy the one for medium skin tones, by the way. I am not fucking shy.)
4. “Tim McGraw” by Taylor Swift. This 16-year-old wunderkind has come up with a song Carrie Underwood’s team of writers couldn’t stumble into if they drank all the moonshine in Nashville: It’s a sentimental look at summer romance gone by, all set to the memory of a Tim McGraw song. A bit of a minx, Swift co-wrote the song and stars in the video, which is quickly making an impression on GAC and CMT. It’s about heartbreak and memories, with the metaphor being the Tim McGraw song (never specifically named) Taylor and her dim-bulb boyfriend used to dance to by the lake. Sure, it’s country and nostalgic – but it’s also a hot video and well conceived angle for a new country song. Tim McGraw has now entered the pantheon of George Strait, Merle Haggard and Chris LeDoux: Other songwriters are now name-checking him during their own lyrics. Get on iTunes and download “Tim McGraw.” It’s 99 cents, and it will make you smile with memories of your own innocent days. (Whether or not they happened to include making out with a foxy little blonde singer down by a lake is really your problem. Songs can only do so much.)
5. “Countdown with Keith Olbermann,” MSNBC cable. Olbermann is about as mercurial as they come, and his vaunted career (that began in sports) – L.A. local sports, CNN, ESPN, CNBC, etc., etc. – has been somewhat jumpy in the past decade or so. He’s the New York guy who doesn’t drive, the L.A. bachelor who doesn’t date and the sports guy with erudite opinions. That’s why I think he’s found his mark – after a couple of years of studying the pitching – with “Countdown,” making more and more noise this year as a alternative to that fucking Bill O’Reilly on Fox News and making hay by tweaking jackasses like O’Reilly and Ann Coultier, that fucking conservative crazy bitch who basically has nothing to say. Olbermann’s format – counting backwards to forwards, his dumbest stories first – and irreverent approach are perfectly served in the “Countdown” format, making for a lively and wry hour, filled with Olbermann’s intelligence, wit and – more and more, especially when it comes to the O’Reillys and Coultiers of the world – passion, rarely seen in his sporting guise. I still think Dan Patrick and Keith Olbermann were the best-ever team on ESPN’s “SportsCenter,” especially back in the Sunday-night day. But Keith expands his depth, and breadth, in “Countdown.” It’s one helluva ride, and well worth joining.
6. “Hips Don’t Lie,” single (and video) by Shakira. I didn’t realize that Shakira’s “Oral Fixation Vol. 2” CD had come out late last year without the hit single “Hips Don’t Lie,” which was evidently recorded and added later, to a remixed version of the album. But who really cares? Because “Hips Don’t Lie,” by that smokin’ hot Colombian goddess, is such a catchy song – let’s not talk about the VH-1 video – that it makes up for any such oversights. “Shakira, Shakira,” sings Wyclef Jean. “I never really knew that she could dance like this. She makes a man want to speak Spanish.” (It rhymes in context.) And then Shakira sings, “Oh, baby when you talk like that, you make a woman go mad … I’m on tonight and though my hips don’t lie and I’m starting to feel this way…” And then I go home, hot and bothered. And remember – this is just after the song. I’m not talking about the video, because whatever I say wouldn’t do it justice.
# # #
ON THE DOT: Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. And remember, as always, this is just an exhibition; it is not a competition – so please, no wagering. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
(What I’m endorsing this week)
By JOHN YOUNGREN
1. The Couric Watch – Don’t know if you’ve heard, but Katie Couric is taking over CBS News. Can you feel it? She hasn’t been on the air since leaving “Today” in late May – a move which, in itself, knocked off a crazy spiral of on-air musical chairs that continues to ripple across all aspects of TV news – but the media can’t get enough of watching and waiting for Katie Couric’s Sept. 5 debut in her new gig, as anchor and managing editor of “The CBS Evening News.” Various media websites and internet bloggers (including this one, I guess, now) have been breathlessly commenting on Couric’s every public utterance since May, and CBS has done a good job of keeping their new girl pretty close to the spotlight – taking her on a multi-city tour, announcing she’ll be doing a blog, reporting for “60 Minutes,” having her newscast simulcast on the web, etc., etc. But, as the date draws near, the big guns are just rolling out; if it’s possible, Katie is finally going mainstream media. She turned up on the cover of Parade last weekend, and she was front and center in USA Today this week. I’d expect a TV Guide cover – hell, maybe a Time cover: “She’s tanned, she’s rested, she’s ready,” like they did for David Letterman when he went from NBC to CBS – and People feature within the next couple of weeks, not to mention appearances on Letterman and with Larry King. America, can you wait? Observers are already buzzing over how she looks and what she’ll be wearing when she debuts, not to mention how she’ll impact the evening news race with Brian Williams and Charles Gibson. Does she have the gravitas? Will she be able to project personality? Will she show off her legs? Will she wear spike heels? Seriously. It’s more fun to talk about than any reality. With all this build-up, her actual debut on Sept. 5 is going to be a letdown. “I have to focus on the work and the new ideas that are percolating here at CBS,” Katie told USA Today. C’mon, Katie. You should at least be having as much fun as everyone else. The waiting is the greatest part.
2. “Gene Simmons Family Jewels” on A&E cable. I’m not a big KISS fan, though I respect the group’s legacy. Still, I have friends who still paint themselves up like demons and cats. And I’ve always had mixed emotions about Gene Simmons, the most famous of the KISS army, who’s now taken a page out of the Osbourne playbook with his behind-the-scenes reality show (featuring his “happily unmarried” partner, former Playmate Shannon Tweed and their teenage children, Nick and Sophie). I have to admit, I stumbled into a few back-to-back repeats of this 30-minute wonder during a Saturday afternoon mini-marathon. And I am entirely amused by Simmons and his brood, who seem to have a very natural, loving relationship down underneath all that makeup. Simmons’ ego can be a bit much to take at times, but he seems to be willing to laugh at himself throughout the series’ contrived situations. Best of yet, his non-wife and kids seem to be able to laugh at him, too. It reminds me of the way my cousins and Aunt Susan make fun of Uncle David. (Simmons' son, Nick, even does a kick-ass Gene Simmons voice impersonation.) New episodes are seen Monday nights, I think. It just debuted a couple of weeks ago. Mini-dot rating: •••
3. Jergens New! Natural Glow Moisturizer. Talk about a Godsend! Well, short of the actual sun, that is. A few years ago, I was rubbing that Neutrogena Sunless Tanning lotion all over myself, so desperate was I to get that summer glow without actually venturing into the sun. Result? I over-rubbed, basically, and in the space of about 10 days I turned my feet orange – kind of a glowing, Martian orange – and didn’t feel comfortable going without socks for about two years. Then I saw that babe Julie Bowen (my favorite part of “Ed” and one of my favorite parts of “Boston Legal,” not to mention that she’s Jack’s ex-wife in “Lost”) doing commercials for the Neutrogena follow-up: MicroMist Tanning. And, thank the good lord above, this seemed like the answer: “No orange hands!,” (as Julie pointed out in the commercials) and for me, “No orange feet!” So I was spraying that around for a summer or two and it seemed to work pretty well, until I discovered that the backs of my feet (mainly around the ankles) and toenails were turning a kind of sickening, maybe-it’s-the-flu orange, like a dirt stain that wouldn’t go away. After people laughed and laughed and I began wearing cowboy boots with my shorts, a friend introduced me to the Jergens New! Natural Glow Moisturizer, which seems like – if you rub it on regularly and remember to exfoliate – it provides a much more natural glow than that Martian shit. I’ve been pleased – in my shower, anyway. I still haven’t gotten around to taking my boots and socks off in public. (I buy the one for medium skin tones, by the way. I am not fucking shy.)
4. “Tim McGraw” by Taylor Swift. This 16-year-old wunderkind has come up with a song Carrie Underwood’s team of writers couldn’t stumble into if they drank all the moonshine in Nashville: It’s a sentimental look at summer romance gone by, all set to the memory of a Tim McGraw song. A bit of a minx, Swift co-wrote the song and stars in the video, which is quickly making an impression on GAC and CMT. It’s about heartbreak and memories, with the metaphor being the Tim McGraw song (never specifically named) Taylor and her dim-bulb boyfriend used to dance to by the lake. Sure, it’s country and nostalgic – but it’s also a hot video and well conceived angle for a new country song. Tim McGraw has now entered the pantheon of George Strait, Merle Haggard and Chris LeDoux: Other songwriters are now name-checking him during their own lyrics. Get on iTunes and download “Tim McGraw.” It’s 99 cents, and it will make you smile with memories of your own innocent days. (Whether or not they happened to include making out with a foxy little blonde singer down by a lake is really your problem. Songs can only do so much.)
5. “Countdown with Keith Olbermann,” MSNBC cable. Olbermann is about as mercurial as they come, and his vaunted career (that began in sports) – L.A. local sports, CNN, ESPN, CNBC, etc., etc. – has been somewhat jumpy in the past decade or so. He’s the New York guy who doesn’t drive, the L.A. bachelor who doesn’t date and the sports guy with erudite opinions. That’s why I think he’s found his mark – after a couple of years of studying the pitching – with “Countdown,” making more and more noise this year as a alternative to that fucking Bill O’Reilly on Fox News and making hay by tweaking jackasses like O’Reilly and Ann Coultier, that fucking conservative crazy bitch who basically has nothing to say. Olbermann’s format – counting backwards to forwards, his dumbest stories first – and irreverent approach are perfectly served in the “Countdown” format, making for a lively and wry hour, filled with Olbermann’s intelligence, wit and – more and more, especially when it comes to the O’Reillys and Coultiers of the world – passion, rarely seen in his sporting guise. I still think Dan Patrick and Keith Olbermann were the best-ever team on ESPN’s “SportsCenter,” especially back in the Sunday-night day. But Keith expands his depth, and breadth, in “Countdown.” It’s one helluva ride, and well worth joining.
6. “Hips Don’t Lie,” single (and video) by Shakira. I didn’t realize that Shakira’s “Oral Fixation Vol. 2” CD had come out late last year without the hit single “Hips Don’t Lie,” which was evidently recorded and added later, to a remixed version of the album. But who really cares? Because “Hips Don’t Lie,” by that smokin’ hot Colombian goddess, is such a catchy song – let’s not talk about the VH-1 video – that it makes up for any such oversights. “Shakira, Shakira,” sings Wyclef Jean. “I never really knew that she could dance like this. She makes a man want to speak Spanish.” (It rhymes in context.) And then Shakira sings, “Oh, baby when you talk like that, you make a woman go mad … I’m on tonight and though my hips don’t lie and I’m starting to feel this way…” And then I go home, hot and bothered. And remember – this is just after the song. I’m not talking about the video, because whatever I say wouldn’t do it justice.
# # #
ON THE DOT: Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. And remember, as always, this is just an exhibition; it is not a competition – so please, no wagering. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
Sunday, August 13, 2006
SIX ON THE DOT: (6 things I’m into this week...)
By JOHN YOUNGREN
1. “California Girls” music video, by Gretchen Wilson. The song itself wasn’t a particular favorite of mine when I first heard it (off Wilson’s “All Jacked Up” CD, released late last year), but the video – ah, the video – is another matter indeed. Liberally showing off her newly buff, tanned body, Wilson’s a knockout in this summer beach romp. My favorite part? When she shows off her “dirty dancing to Merle” moves wearing nothing but short shorts, a cowboy hat, a bikini top and cowboy boots. That’s how they do it in Dixie. Smoking. The woman who once sang, “I may not be a 10 but the boys say I clean up good” was never more out of order.
2. “Curb Your Enthusiasm” complete fifth season DVD, with Larry David. It had its moments, but I must confess I was never a particular fan of the fourth season of David’s groundbreaking HBO show. Somehow, Larry starring in “The Producers” on Broadway seemed to be far away from this show’s central snarky conceit. But with season five, it’s clear Larry found Larry again, and his self-absorbed neurosis and unlucky penchant for putting his foot in his mouth (that damn racist dog!) make every episode a gem.
3. Ambien. Sleeping medication. I’ve long had a policy that I can’t get on an airplane (even a one- or two-hour flight) without four magazines and a book I’m halfway through. So even these extreme stories of restrictions in the wake of new terrorism (no carry-ons, nothing but wallets and tickets and prescription drugs) have me quavering. There’s no way I could sit on a fucking flight and re-read the goddamn “In Flight” catalogue for more than 11 minutes on the concourse. While I prefer Lorazepam, all my friends who have regularly downed Ambien prior to jumping onto flights may be more right than ever.
4. Christina Aguilera, “Ain’t No Other Man” single. This is what ITunes is all about – 99 cents well spent. Despite my inclusion of her hit single “Beautiful” on a mix CD I made a few years ago, I’m no huge fan of “Xtina,” though I like her look and at least some of her music. But her new “Ain’t No Other Man” single (and sort of, its video) has me captivated, more for its bump-and-grind beat and bigger-than-she vocals than anything else. I doubt I’ll buy “Back to Basics,” her new double CD. But pop in the strutting single, “Ain’t No Other Man,” (“just do your thing, baby”) and race me to the dance floor, Mister. Or MIssy.
5. “Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip” previews. I’ve got to admit it – no network show has my brain racing like this one, the Aaron Sorkin-produced and created drama about life behind the scenes of a “Saturday Night Live”-type of show on big network TV. Sorkin, the brilliant mind behind “The West Wing” and “Sports Night” (two of my favorite shows, period, ever) surely writes about what he knows when it comes to network politics and star histrionics in a show-biz scenario. The dialogue and scenes look snappy, in the know and funny. And the cast? Matthew Perry. Bradley Whitford. Amanda Peet, Amanda Peet, Amanda Peet. Steven Weber. Judd HIrsch. Oh, and Amanda Peet. I don’t know if it can carry, but I’ll be there for “Studio’s” opening night.
6. “Here, There and Everywhere: My Life Recording the Music of The Beatles,” by Geoff Emerick and Howard Massey, Gotham Books, 374 pages, $26. It came out earlier this year, and a friend recommended I pick it up, given my long fascination with all things Fab Four. And this is basically a book by, as the jacket emphasizes, “the innovative recording engineer [Emerick] who recorded the Beatles’ greatest albums.” Turns out, as Emerick insists, that he was the guy who convinced the Beatles to call the album “Sgt. Pepper,” not “Captain Salt.” Emerick insisted the Beatles stay a foursome, even after they wanted to add a second drummer and a female backup singer. And it was he – no one else – who invented Abbey Road, the Beatles’ recording studio. That Geoff. He even told John to concentrate on writing the music and Ringo to stick to drums. All of the above? Not really. Emerick’s claims strike you as too much, but they’re really pretty pedestrian. (He figured out where to put a microphone to get the best sound out of Paul’s bass during “Revolver.” Big fucking deal.) He does take a lot of credit for the Beatles' mid-career, groundbreaking sound (from “Revolver” through “Abbey Road,” though he grumbles along the way), which is made more palatable by his behind-the-scenes anecdotes and recording session war stories from back in the day.
# # #
Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. No wagering, however. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
By JOHN YOUNGREN
1. “California Girls” music video, by Gretchen Wilson. The song itself wasn’t a particular favorite of mine when I first heard it (off Wilson’s “All Jacked Up” CD, released late last year), but the video – ah, the video – is another matter indeed. Liberally showing off her newly buff, tanned body, Wilson’s a knockout in this summer beach romp. My favorite part? When she shows off her “dirty dancing to Merle” moves wearing nothing but short shorts, a cowboy hat, a bikini top and cowboy boots. That’s how they do it in Dixie. Smoking. The woman who once sang, “I may not be a 10 but the boys say I clean up good” was never more out of order.
2. “Curb Your Enthusiasm” complete fifth season DVD, with Larry David. It had its moments, but I must confess I was never a particular fan of the fourth season of David’s groundbreaking HBO show. Somehow, Larry starring in “The Producers” on Broadway seemed to be far away from this show’s central snarky conceit. But with season five, it’s clear Larry found Larry again, and his self-absorbed neurosis and unlucky penchant for putting his foot in his mouth (that damn racist dog!) make every episode a gem.
3. Ambien. Sleeping medication. I’ve long had a policy that I can’t get on an airplane (even a one- or two-hour flight) without four magazines and a book I’m halfway through. So even these extreme stories of restrictions in the wake of new terrorism (no carry-ons, nothing but wallets and tickets and prescription drugs) have me quavering. There’s no way I could sit on a fucking flight and re-read the goddamn “In Flight” catalogue for more than 11 minutes on the concourse. While I prefer Lorazepam, all my friends who have regularly downed Ambien prior to jumping onto flights may be more right than ever.
4. Christina Aguilera, “Ain’t No Other Man” single. This is what ITunes is all about – 99 cents well spent. Despite my inclusion of her hit single “Beautiful” on a mix CD I made a few years ago, I’m no huge fan of “Xtina,” though I like her look and at least some of her music. But her new “Ain’t No Other Man” single (and sort of, its video) has me captivated, more for its bump-and-grind beat and bigger-than-she vocals than anything else. I doubt I’ll buy “Back to Basics,” her new double CD. But pop in the strutting single, “Ain’t No Other Man,” (“just do your thing, baby”) and race me to the dance floor, Mister. Or MIssy.
5. “Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip” previews. I’ve got to admit it – no network show has my brain racing like this one, the Aaron Sorkin-produced and created drama about life behind the scenes of a “Saturday Night Live”-type of show on big network TV. Sorkin, the brilliant mind behind “The West Wing” and “Sports Night” (two of my favorite shows, period, ever) surely writes about what he knows when it comes to network politics and star histrionics in a show-biz scenario. The dialogue and scenes look snappy, in the know and funny. And the cast? Matthew Perry. Bradley Whitford. Amanda Peet, Amanda Peet, Amanda Peet. Steven Weber. Judd HIrsch. Oh, and Amanda Peet. I don’t know if it can carry, but I’ll be there for “Studio’s” opening night.
6. “Here, There and Everywhere: My Life Recording the Music of The Beatles,” by Geoff Emerick and Howard Massey, Gotham Books, 374 pages, $26. It came out earlier this year, and a friend recommended I pick it up, given my long fascination with all things Fab Four. And this is basically a book by, as the jacket emphasizes, “the innovative recording engineer [Emerick] who recorded the Beatles’ greatest albums.” Turns out, as Emerick insists, that he was the guy who convinced the Beatles to call the album “Sgt. Pepper,” not “Captain Salt.” Emerick insisted the Beatles stay a foursome, even after they wanted to add a second drummer and a female backup singer. And it was he – no one else – who invented Abbey Road, the Beatles’ recording studio. That Geoff. He even told John to concentrate on writing the music and Ringo to stick to drums. All of the above? Not really. Emerick’s claims strike you as too much, but they’re really pretty pedestrian. (He figured out where to put a microphone to get the best sound out of Paul’s bass during “Revolver.” Big fucking deal.) He does take a lot of credit for the Beatles' mid-career, groundbreaking sound (from “Revolver” through “Abbey Road,” though he grumbles along the way), which is made more palatable by his behind-the-scenes anecdotes and recording session war stories from back in the day.
# # #
Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. No wagering, however. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
Sunday, August 06, 2006
TIM & FAITH DAZZLE SLC: A LITTLE BIT COUNTRY, A LITTLE BIT ‘SOUL 2 SOUL’
By JOHN YOUNGREN
Tim McGraw and Faith Hill at the Delta Center, Salt Lake City
Aug. 5, 2006
THE DOTTED LINE: Hill – •••
McGraw – •••-1/2
Together – ••••
SALT LAKE CITY – Still somewhat bedazzled by the incredible 2-1/2 hour concert (particularly the spellbindingly sexy final duet) that had just concluded, the Delta Center crowd wandered out into a sudden summer downpour, marked by the bold lightning bolts dramatically piercing the muggy evening air.
Corny as it sounds, the lightning drew “oohs” and “aahs” from the rapidly exiting audience, which still seemed mesmerized by the stunning sparks INSIDE the arena – which Faith Hill and Tim McGraw played Saturday night, the conclusion of a two-night Salt Lake City stint on the tail end of their “Soul 2 Soul Tour 2.”
Based on Saturday’s performance, “Soul 2 Soul 2” certainly lived up to its hype, proving to be a barnstorming-but-sexy celebration of love, songs (and love songs) mixed with country, pop and rock and roll. These are truly two country superstars at the top of their games – and the passion they clearly have for their fans, their music and each other is palpable. The lightning outside was only the fitting conclusion to a night of theatrical, musical fireworks.
With no opening act and an almost full Delta Center (the duo had sold out the arena for Friday night’s show, only adding Saturday’s encore at a later date), just the sheer anticipation of seeing Tim and Faith together on the same stage (a nice X-shaped arrangement set in the center of the floor, in-the-round style, providing plenty of room for both performers to rove and, in Tim’s case, swagger) seemed to inspire frenzy.
By the time the lights – finally, finally, finally – dropped to black and the recorded rock music dropped away, the audience went nuts as Hill and McGraw each rose from underneath the stage. Then, at separate ends of the floor, backs to each other, they ripped through their tale of epic love gone wrong, “Like We Never Loved At All,” the hit (co-written by Big & Rich star John Rich) from Faith’s current CD.
McGraw’s appearance was little more than an opening appetizer; he disappeared after working the women in the audience into a brief frenzy, leaving the stage to Faith – a beautiful-but-somewhat-self-conscious stage performer, albeit with the vocal pipes to blow everyone else away. A few local reviewers had taken knocks at Mrs. McGraw after Friday’s first show, poking fun at her by-the-numbers dance routines, ruby slipper wardrobe and Barbie doll presence.
But Saturday, it was clear that Hill – from her own opening “Mississippi Girl” to slightly altered, more rocking arrangements of her monster hits like “This Kiss,” “Cry” and “Breathe” – aimed to counter that impression. As a result, she attempted to engage her fans, especially those stage side, with smiles, waves and handshakes.
While I’m certainly partial to Faith hits like “The Way You Love Me” and one of her newer songs, “Sunshine and Summertime” (a surefire single, and probably soon), I have to admit it was a late run of selections during Saturday’s set, including “Let Me Let Go,” “The Lucky One” and her closing “Piece of My Heart” that were highlights, sparked as they were by a rumbling, bluesy band growl and Hill’s heartstopping vocal aerobics. (It's no exaggeration to say that most of Hill’s music sounds much ballsier and rocking when performed live, a pleasant alternative to the thinner, sunnier pop sheen that most of her better-known CD tracks have.)
Just before a brief video interlude (presumably to get Tim’s band, The Dancehall Doctors, in place), the McGraws appeared again together, sitting back-to-back under a peculiar gauzy screen to do a couple of steamy duets, including the smoky “Let’s Make Love,” again reminding the audience of exactly what they were there for.
And really, all McGraw needed to do at that point was appear – which he did, to great sound and fury, singing the opening notes of “Real Good Man” as the missus slid off for a backstage chardonnay. No matter what you think of Faith, when Tim appeared Saturday, you got the idea that the REAL show was to begin.
Dressed in his trademark black hat and tight jeans (with a non-characteristic light blue shirt over a white T-shirt), McGraw brought his honky tonk swagger to the proceedings in a hurry, bouncing his way through a few of his standards, like “The Cowboy In Me,” “Don’t Take The Girl” (most of the vocals provided by the adoring Delta Center crowd), “Where The Green Grass Grows” and “Something Like That.”
If Faith’s musical highlights came when she decided to rock and roll a bit, she clearly learned that lesson from her husband – who works the crowd with uncanny presence and confidence. With the exception of maybe Kenny Chesney, among current popular country male performers, McGraw is maybe most akin to Garth Brooks back in the day. And, while he’s no Mr. Hill in the vocals department, Tim can hit the high notes, too – as he demonstrated with passionate takes of his current hit, “When The Stars Go Blue” and the crowd’s favorite Bic (or cell phone light) moment, “Live Like You Were Dying.”
McGraw certainly had another 10-12 hits he could have trotted out – I particularly missed “Red Ragtop” and “She’s My Kind of Rain” – but both he and Faith kept things to a dozen or so individual tunes in order to fit in a few more duets. And so sure enough, just after Tim finished slapping fists and high fives with most of the fans on the floor while drifting in and out of “I Like It, I Love It” (the “Monday Night Football” halftime song and current Winger’s parody jingle) there he and Faith were together again (he sweaty and unbuttoned; she in a long dress), for a sizzling final set.
If their rendition of “It’s Your Love” (for the first time all night, they faced each other, sending sparks across the long stage) didn’t steam up the Delta Center windows (later, the ever-playful McGraw ultimately would bump his behind into his wife's shapely ass while both were playing guitars on a cover of “Shotgun Rider,” making them look more like a sexy, modern-day Johnny and June than ever), the duo’s final encore number absolutely cooked.
Center stage, and face to face, Tim and Faith shared a microphone, held each other’s knees and passionately worked each other (and most of the crowd) over with a gravel-voiced, smoking rendition of “I Need You,” a smoldering duet that apparently won’t be released until Tim’s next CD, reportedly this fall:
"I Need You" (lyrics)
(TIM)
“I wanna drink that shot of whiskey
I wanna smoke that cigarette
I wanna smell that sweet addiction on my breath
I wanna ride across West Virginia in the back seat of a Cadillac
You know some cowboys like me go out like that
“So I need you
Like a needle needs a vein
Like my uncle Joe in Oklahoma needs a rain
And I need you
Like a lighthouse on a coast
Like the father and the son need the Holy Ghost
I need you”
(FAITH)
“I wanna get lost in some corner booth, Cantina Mexico
I wanna dance to the static of an AM radio
I wanna wrap the moon around us, lay beside you skin on skin
Make love til the sun comes up, til the sun goes down again
“Cause I need you
Like a needle needs a vein
Like my uncle Joe in Oklahoma needs a rain
I need you
Like a lighthouse on a coast
Like the father and the son need the Holy Ghost
I need you, ooh I need you”
(TIM)
“I wanna drink that shot of whiskey
I wanna smoke that cigarette
You know some cowboys like me go out like that
So I need you, woh I need you
I need you, I need you, I need you, I need you.”
Spellbound yet? The DC crowd was.
And then, for the first time on stage all night, Tim and Faith kissed.
Cameras up close, and caught up in the moment, the couple’s chemistry, love and genuine sex appeal rippled throughout the arena.
Like most of those in attendance, I walked out needing a cold shower – and did get a rain shower, lightning and all.
But Tim and Faith? After that sizzling encore, I’m suspecting they were both lucky ones, indeed.
# # #
Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. No wagering, however; you'll just have to trust me. To contact me with your own pithy thoughts, comments, jokes and observations, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
By JOHN YOUNGREN
Tim McGraw and Faith Hill at the Delta Center, Salt Lake City
Aug. 5, 2006
THE DOTTED LINE: Hill – •••
McGraw – •••-1/2
Together – ••••
SALT LAKE CITY – Still somewhat bedazzled by the incredible 2-1/2 hour concert (particularly the spellbindingly sexy final duet) that had just concluded, the Delta Center crowd wandered out into a sudden summer downpour, marked by the bold lightning bolts dramatically piercing the muggy evening air.
Corny as it sounds, the lightning drew “oohs” and “aahs” from the rapidly exiting audience, which still seemed mesmerized by the stunning sparks INSIDE the arena – which Faith Hill and Tim McGraw played Saturday night, the conclusion of a two-night Salt Lake City stint on the tail end of their “Soul 2 Soul Tour 2.”
Based on Saturday’s performance, “Soul 2 Soul 2” certainly lived up to its hype, proving to be a barnstorming-but-sexy celebration of love, songs (and love songs) mixed with country, pop and rock and roll. These are truly two country superstars at the top of their games – and the passion they clearly have for their fans, their music and each other is palpable. The lightning outside was only the fitting conclusion to a night of theatrical, musical fireworks.
With no opening act and an almost full Delta Center (the duo had sold out the arena for Friday night’s show, only adding Saturday’s encore at a later date), just the sheer anticipation of seeing Tim and Faith together on the same stage (a nice X-shaped arrangement set in the center of the floor, in-the-round style, providing plenty of room for both performers to rove and, in Tim’s case, swagger) seemed to inspire frenzy.
By the time the lights – finally, finally, finally – dropped to black and the recorded rock music dropped away, the audience went nuts as Hill and McGraw each rose from underneath the stage. Then, at separate ends of the floor, backs to each other, they ripped through their tale of epic love gone wrong, “Like We Never Loved At All,” the hit (co-written by Big & Rich star John Rich) from Faith’s current CD.
McGraw’s appearance was little more than an opening appetizer; he disappeared after working the women in the audience into a brief frenzy, leaving the stage to Faith – a beautiful-but-somewhat-self-conscious stage performer, albeit with the vocal pipes to blow everyone else away. A few local reviewers had taken knocks at Mrs. McGraw after Friday’s first show, poking fun at her by-the-numbers dance routines, ruby slipper wardrobe and Barbie doll presence.
But Saturday, it was clear that Hill – from her own opening “Mississippi Girl” to slightly altered, more rocking arrangements of her monster hits like “This Kiss,” “Cry” and “Breathe” – aimed to counter that impression. As a result, she attempted to engage her fans, especially those stage side, with smiles, waves and handshakes.
While I’m certainly partial to Faith hits like “The Way You Love Me” and one of her newer songs, “Sunshine and Summertime” (a surefire single, and probably soon), I have to admit it was a late run of selections during Saturday’s set, including “Let Me Let Go,” “The Lucky One” and her closing “Piece of My Heart” that were highlights, sparked as they were by a rumbling, bluesy band growl and Hill’s heartstopping vocal aerobics. (It's no exaggeration to say that most of Hill’s music sounds much ballsier and rocking when performed live, a pleasant alternative to the thinner, sunnier pop sheen that most of her better-known CD tracks have.)
Just before a brief video interlude (presumably to get Tim’s band, The Dancehall Doctors, in place), the McGraws appeared again together, sitting back-to-back under a peculiar gauzy screen to do a couple of steamy duets, including the smoky “Let’s Make Love,” again reminding the audience of exactly what they were there for.
And really, all McGraw needed to do at that point was appear – which he did, to great sound and fury, singing the opening notes of “Real Good Man” as the missus slid off for a backstage chardonnay. No matter what you think of Faith, when Tim appeared Saturday, you got the idea that the REAL show was to begin.
Dressed in his trademark black hat and tight jeans (with a non-characteristic light blue shirt over a white T-shirt), McGraw brought his honky tonk swagger to the proceedings in a hurry, bouncing his way through a few of his standards, like “The Cowboy In Me,” “Don’t Take The Girl” (most of the vocals provided by the adoring Delta Center crowd), “Where The Green Grass Grows” and “Something Like That.”
If Faith’s musical highlights came when she decided to rock and roll a bit, she clearly learned that lesson from her husband – who works the crowd with uncanny presence and confidence. With the exception of maybe Kenny Chesney, among current popular country male performers, McGraw is maybe most akin to Garth Brooks back in the day. And, while he’s no Mr. Hill in the vocals department, Tim can hit the high notes, too – as he demonstrated with passionate takes of his current hit, “When The Stars Go Blue” and the crowd’s favorite Bic (or cell phone light) moment, “Live Like You Were Dying.”
McGraw certainly had another 10-12 hits he could have trotted out – I particularly missed “Red Ragtop” and “She’s My Kind of Rain” – but both he and Faith kept things to a dozen or so individual tunes in order to fit in a few more duets. And so sure enough, just after Tim finished slapping fists and high fives with most of the fans on the floor while drifting in and out of “I Like It, I Love It” (the “Monday Night Football” halftime song and current Winger’s parody jingle) there he and Faith were together again (he sweaty and unbuttoned; she in a long dress), for a sizzling final set.
If their rendition of “It’s Your Love” (for the first time all night, they faced each other, sending sparks across the long stage) didn’t steam up the Delta Center windows (later, the ever-playful McGraw ultimately would bump his behind into his wife's shapely ass while both were playing guitars on a cover of “Shotgun Rider,” making them look more like a sexy, modern-day Johnny and June than ever), the duo’s final encore number absolutely cooked.
Center stage, and face to face, Tim and Faith shared a microphone, held each other’s knees and passionately worked each other (and most of the crowd) over with a gravel-voiced, smoking rendition of “I Need You,” a smoldering duet that apparently won’t be released until Tim’s next CD, reportedly this fall:
"I Need You" (lyrics)
(TIM)
“I wanna drink that shot of whiskey
I wanna smoke that cigarette
I wanna smell that sweet addiction on my breath
I wanna ride across West Virginia in the back seat of a Cadillac
You know some cowboys like me go out like that
“So I need you
Like a needle needs a vein
Like my uncle Joe in Oklahoma needs a rain
And I need you
Like a lighthouse on a coast
Like the father and the son need the Holy Ghost
I need you”
(FAITH)
“I wanna get lost in some corner booth, Cantina Mexico
I wanna dance to the static of an AM radio
I wanna wrap the moon around us, lay beside you skin on skin
Make love til the sun comes up, til the sun goes down again
“Cause I need you
Like a needle needs a vein
Like my uncle Joe in Oklahoma needs a rain
I need you
Like a lighthouse on a coast
Like the father and the son need the Holy Ghost
I need you, ooh I need you”
(TIM)
“I wanna drink that shot of whiskey
I wanna smoke that cigarette
You know some cowboys like me go out like that
So I need you, woh I need you
I need you, I need you, I need you, I need you.”
Spellbound yet? The DC crowd was.
And then, for the first time on stage all night, Tim and Faith kissed.
Cameras up close, and caught up in the moment, the couple’s chemistry, love and genuine sex appeal rippled throughout the arena.
Like most of those in attendance, I walked out needing a cold shower – and did get a rain shower, lightning and all.
But Tim and Faith? After that sizzling encore, I’m suspecting they were both lucky ones, indeed.
# # #
Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. No wagering, however; you'll just have to trust me. To contact me with your own pithy thoughts, comments, jokes and observations, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
Thursday, July 27, 2006
A MIDSUMMER’S NIGHT DREAM: CIGARS AND CHARDONNAY
By JOHN YOUNGREN
POP STEW RATINGS: Meridian 2004 Chardonnay: •••-/12
Baccarat Cigar: •••
Nightly Summer Experience: Priceless
"Overlooking the city
Summer sun hasn’t cooled yet
I work through my memories
Find everything I’d be
In a fresh cigar
And a glass of Chardonnay
"Cigars and Chardonnay
Wish I could find my way
My life seems as if it’s on pause
And I don’t even care be-cause
Of cigars and Chardonnay"
–“Cigars & Chardonnay” by John Youngren
SALT LAKE CITY – Here on my deck – at Arlington Place near the University of Utah – for nearly 10 years now, I find my summer solace in a glass (or more) of Chardonnay and a big ol’ smoke, most recently the Baccarat cigar.
The view is incredible, for from my white plastic lawn chair (one of six I’ve either inherited or bought a time long ago and far away) I can see everything along the Salt Lake valley, from soaking in fireworks at Franklin Covey Field to watching the KUTV Sky 2 helicopter flying around downtown. Or both. Or neither.
I can also see the Walker Center sign, flashing its neon blue, and the top of the Trolley Square water tower and the lights beaming from Rice-Eccles Stadium at the University of Utah, just a few blocks to my left.
For a decade now, I’ve soaked it all in, especially this time of year. The hottest summer nights are, in a way, the most enjoyable. The sun dips behind the mountains and the city lights go on and there I am with my fresh cigar and glass of Chardonnay. And, when the temperature dips to a chilly 95 degrees, I'm in my element.
For most of the past 10 years, this has been where it has all come together: It’s not so much about me getting drunk or swilling wine. And, God forbid, it’s not really about the cigar. No, it’s about the experience – just me, the cigar and the wine, working together along with the music on my CDs or CD mixes or now, my iPOD (Cigar Playlist available in three versions; just e-mail me), taking it all in and thinking about it all the same.
From a corporate standpoint, this is where some of my best ideas have come from. I've made up headlines and campaigns, seating charts and management teams. It’s here that I first had the pains that would lead to my second kidney stone, And it’s here that, to this day, I’ve let my tense shoulders drop and my second breath kick in and assessed the sites and sounds of Salt Lake City while dreaming about my next witticism, management plan or blog entry.
Yeah, I’m a busy guy with a life on high.
The Baccarat cigars are now an established institution. I’ve tried others; they never compare. I buy the biggest, longest, fattest but lightest ones – just $3.65 each at Jeannie’s Smoke Shop in downtown SLC – and enjoy the relatively mild taste, big ash and slow burn.
The Meridian is another must. Oh, make no mistake – I’ve done Arlington's deck with various beers and vodka tonics. Even Zima. But when it comes to wine, there’s something about the sweet rosy taste of a cold glass of Meridian that perfectly complements the place and the pace, painkillers optional. I’ve shared a glass or two of this experience over the years – it's been a while, I'll admit – and I’m not sure I’ve got my better personal health interests at the top of my list when it comes to the vices I’m enjoying, but the fresh cigars and Chardonnay go down one way or another.
So, what else? I normally take a late-night shower after my smoking affair, to rid my skin and what’s left of my hair of the remnant smoke and choke of that Baccarat. And it’s not unheard of for me to tear up or feel overly joyful, sentimental or even reminiscent as a particular song or piece of music finds its way to the top of the iPOD – in fact, the current, very scientific mix I’ve put together allows for the ebbs and flows, stops and starts of my favorite music and emotions, given the songs that are speaking to me.
I try to get done and inside by the start of the “Late Show with David Letterman” on CBS, or else I’ll be going too long – and risking too much of a hung-over next day – on the deck, cigar and Chardonnay in hand. And while this isn’t something I do every night during the summer, it is a very seasonal affair; once the colder fall weather arrives (and the new TV season begins) I have traditionally withdrawn from the deck with the exception of Super Bowl smoke-offs or early March birthday ponderings.
No, most of what I think about and do out there as I examine the Salt Lake City skyline – the neon lights and flying crafts and distant noises and nearby sirens – is end up coming up with thoughts and stuff I don’t really know how to use elsewhere. Like song lyrics, which seem to tumble in and out of my Chardonnay-addled mind, often in tune (and time) with actual songs I’m hearing on my iPOD “Cigar” mix.
For example (remember, lyrics are not necessarily autobiographical and are written for dramatic and comic effect):
“Living in Slow Motion”
(Lyrics by me, John Youngren. Sung to the tune of “Living in Fast Forward” by Kenny Chesney)
"The body’s a temple, they say it’s true
I’ve treated this one like an old microbrew
Greasy cheeseburgers and cheap chardonnay
One day they’ll get me – there’s just no other way
"‘Cause I’m living in slow motion
The big city ad man caught in a rut
I’m living in slow motion
I need to move on or go nuts
"I’m always greeting
Some client meeting
Punching the clock like I care
But the way I’ve been goin’
It’s time that I folded
And got out before I swear
"‘Cause I’m living in slow motion
The big city ad man caught in a rut
I’m living in slow motion
I need to move on or go nuts
"My friends all grew up, they settled down
Some even LDSed in the old part of town
They go to church, play with their kids
And wink at each other ‘bout the dumb things I did
"Oh yeah ...
"‘Cause I’m living in slow motion
The big city ad man caught in a rut
I’m living in slow motion
I need to move on or go nuts
"‘Cause I’m living in slow motion
The big city ad man caught in a rut
I’m living in slow motion
I need to move on or go nuts
"Yeah, it seems like it’s all going slow
Yeah, I’ve got to get out of this rut."
Like that? Sure you do, God and Karoake willing. So what else do I think of between cigars and Chardonnay?
How about another deck rumination set to country music?
“I Hate PR”
(Again, my lyrics. Sung to the tune of “I Love This Bar” by Toby Keith. Other above disclaimers apply.)
"We got lackeys, we got losers
Sad sycophants and schmoozers
And we got dummies, we got whiners
We've got on-your-tab diners
"And when we call there's no doubt what we're looking for--
"Hmm, hmm, hmm, I hate PR
"We got washouts, we got sellouts,
Stupid burned-out fools full of lots of doubt
And we got idiots, we got morons
It's hard to maintain decorum
"And if it's a pitch there's no doubt what I'm asking for…
"Hmm, hmm, hmm, I hate PR
"I hate PR
Just the whole damn game
Pitching another dumb story
Makes me feel kind of lame
Let's get the car, head somewhere far
Hmm, hmm, hmm, I hate PR
"I've seen low IQs
Don't know what to do
Should have seen the a.m. anchor
So many empty suits
With the darker roots
I've seen fake flunkies and skinflints
"And they like to think we care when they just make par
"Hmm, hmm, hmm, I hate PR
"I hate to meet
Don't much like the boss
And it's true I've got a client or two
I'd like to tell just get lost
"'Cause I hate PR
Just the whole damn game
Pitching another dumb story
Makes me feel kind of lame
It's gone too far
Off to the bar
"Hmm, hmm, hmm, I hate PR
Hmm, hmm, hmm, I hate PR
Hmm, hmm, hmm, I hate PR"
And that’s about it, in one night on the deck.
With a fresh cigar and a glass of Chardonnay.
It may not be much. But what did you do Thursday night? On your patio?
Yeah, that’s what I thought.
# # #
John Youngren promises to reinvigorate his “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (also known as “Pop Stew”) more regularly now that the rest of the world has caught on to these goddamn things. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
By JOHN YOUNGREN
POP STEW RATINGS: Meridian 2004 Chardonnay: •••-/12
Baccarat Cigar: •••
Nightly Summer Experience: Priceless
"Overlooking the city
Summer sun hasn’t cooled yet
I work through my memories
Find everything I’d be
In a fresh cigar
And a glass of Chardonnay
"Cigars and Chardonnay
Wish I could find my way
My life seems as if it’s on pause
And I don’t even care be-cause
Of cigars and Chardonnay"
–“Cigars & Chardonnay” by John Youngren
SALT LAKE CITY – Here on my deck – at Arlington Place near the University of Utah – for nearly 10 years now, I find my summer solace in a glass (or more) of Chardonnay and a big ol’ smoke, most recently the Baccarat cigar.
The view is incredible, for from my white plastic lawn chair (one of six I’ve either inherited or bought a time long ago and far away) I can see everything along the Salt Lake valley, from soaking in fireworks at Franklin Covey Field to watching the KUTV Sky 2 helicopter flying around downtown. Or both. Or neither.
I can also see the Walker Center sign, flashing its neon blue, and the top of the Trolley Square water tower and the lights beaming from Rice-Eccles Stadium at the University of Utah, just a few blocks to my left.
For a decade now, I’ve soaked it all in, especially this time of year. The hottest summer nights are, in a way, the most enjoyable. The sun dips behind the mountains and the city lights go on and there I am with my fresh cigar and glass of Chardonnay. And, when the temperature dips to a chilly 95 degrees, I'm in my element.
For most of the past 10 years, this has been where it has all come together: It’s not so much about me getting drunk or swilling wine. And, God forbid, it’s not really about the cigar. No, it’s about the experience – just me, the cigar and the wine, working together along with the music on my CDs or CD mixes or now, my iPOD (Cigar Playlist available in three versions; just e-mail me), taking it all in and thinking about it all the same.
From a corporate standpoint, this is where some of my best ideas have come from. I've made up headlines and campaigns, seating charts and management teams. It’s here that I first had the pains that would lead to my second kidney stone, And it’s here that, to this day, I’ve let my tense shoulders drop and my second breath kick in and assessed the sites and sounds of Salt Lake City while dreaming about my next witticism, management plan or blog entry.
Yeah, I’m a busy guy with a life on high.
The Baccarat cigars are now an established institution. I’ve tried others; they never compare. I buy the biggest, longest, fattest but lightest ones – just $3.65 each at Jeannie’s Smoke Shop in downtown SLC – and enjoy the relatively mild taste, big ash and slow burn.
The Meridian is another must. Oh, make no mistake – I’ve done Arlington's deck with various beers and vodka tonics. Even Zima. But when it comes to wine, there’s something about the sweet rosy taste of a cold glass of Meridian that perfectly complements the place and the pace, painkillers optional. I’ve shared a glass or two of this experience over the years – it's been a while, I'll admit – and I’m not sure I’ve got my better personal health interests at the top of my list when it comes to the vices I’m enjoying, but the fresh cigars and Chardonnay go down one way or another.
So, what else? I normally take a late-night shower after my smoking affair, to rid my skin and what’s left of my hair of the remnant smoke and choke of that Baccarat. And it’s not unheard of for me to tear up or feel overly joyful, sentimental or even reminiscent as a particular song or piece of music finds its way to the top of the iPOD – in fact, the current, very scientific mix I’ve put together allows for the ebbs and flows, stops and starts of my favorite music and emotions, given the songs that are speaking to me.
I try to get done and inside by the start of the “Late Show with David Letterman” on CBS, or else I’ll be going too long – and risking too much of a hung-over next day – on the deck, cigar and Chardonnay in hand. And while this isn’t something I do every night during the summer, it is a very seasonal affair; once the colder fall weather arrives (and the new TV season begins) I have traditionally withdrawn from the deck with the exception of Super Bowl smoke-offs or early March birthday ponderings.
No, most of what I think about and do out there as I examine the Salt Lake City skyline – the neon lights and flying crafts and distant noises and nearby sirens – is end up coming up with thoughts and stuff I don’t really know how to use elsewhere. Like song lyrics, which seem to tumble in and out of my Chardonnay-addled mind, often in tune (and time) with actual songs I’m hearing on my iPOD “Cigar” mix.
For example (remember, lyrics are not necessarily autobiographical and are written for dramatic and comic effect):
“Living in Slow Motion”
(Lyrics by me, John Youngren. Sung to the tune of “Living in Fast Forward” by Kenny Chesney)
"The body’s a temple, they say it’s true
I’ve treated this one like an old microbrew
Greasy cheeseburgers and cheap chardonnay
One day they’ll get me – there’s just no other way
"‘Cause I’m living in slow motion
The big city ad man caught in a rut
I’m living in slow motion
I need to move on or go nuts
"I’m always greeting
Some client meeting
Punching the clock like I care
But the way I’ve been goin’
It’s time that I folded
And got out before I swear
"‘Cause I’m living in slow motion
The big city ad man caught in a rut
I’m living in slow motion
I need to move on or go nuts
"My friends all grew up, they settled down
Some even LDSed in the old part of town
They go to church, play with their kids
And wink at each other ‘bout the dumb things I did
"Oh yeah ...
"‘Cause I’m living in slow motion
The big city ad man caught in a rut
I’m living in slow motion
I need to move on or go nuts
"‘Cause I’m living in slow motion
The big city ad man caught in a rut
I’m living in slow motion
I need to move on or go nuts
"Yeah, it seems like it’s all going slow
Yeah, I’ve got to get out of this rut."
Like that? Sure you do, God and Karoake willing. So what else do I think of between cigars and Chardonnay?
How about another deck rumination set to country music?
“I Hate PR”
(Again, my lyrics. Sung to the tune of “I Love This Bar” by Toby Keith. Other above disclaimers apply.)
"We got lackeys, we got losers
Sad sycophants and schmoozers
And we got dummies, we got whiners
We've got on-your-tab diners
"And when we call there's no doubt what we're looking for--
"Hmm, hmm, hmm, I hate PR
"We got washouts, we got sellouts,
Stupid burned-out fools full of lots of doubt
And we got idiots, we got morons
It's hard to maintain decorum
"And if it's a pitch there's no doubt what I'm asking for…
"Hmm, hmm, hmm, I hate PR
"I hate PR
Just the whole damn game
Pitching another dumb story
Makes me feel kind of lame
Let's get the car, head somewhere far
Hmm, hmm, hmm, I hate PR
"I've seen low IQs
Don't know what to do
Should have seen the a.m. anchor
So many empty suits
With the darker roots
I've seen fake flunkies and skinflints
"And they like to think we care when they just make par
"Hmm, hmm, hmm, I hate PR
"I hate to meet
Don't much like the boss
And it's true I've got a client or two
I'd like to tell just get lost
"'Cause I hate PR
Just the whole damn game
Pitching another dumb story
Makes me feel kind of lame
It's gone too far
Off to the bar
"Hmm, hmm, hmm, I hate PR
Hmm, hmm, hmm, I hate PR
Hmm, hmm, hmm, I hate PR"
And that’s about it, in one night on the deck.
With a fresh cigar and a glass of Chardonnay.
It may not be much. But what did you do Thursday night? On your patio?
Yeah, that’s what I thought.
# # #
John Youngren promises to reinvigorate his “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (also known as “Pop Stew”) more regularly now that the rest of the world has caught on to these goddamn things. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
Thursday, July 13, 2006
LITTLE BIT COUNTRY, LITTLE BIT ROCK ‘N ROLL: KENNY & GRETCHEN WOW SLC
By JOHN YOUNGREN
POP STEW RATINGS: Kenny Chesney at USANA Amphitheatre: ****
Gretchen Wilson at USANA Amphitheatre: ***
SALT LAKE CITY–No matter what you think you’d think of Kenny Chesney, current King of Country Music, the fact is if you’re a music fan with any kind of rock ‘n roll pedigree – and if you happened to grow up in the ‘70s and early ‘80s – Kenny’s gonna appeal to you, especially given his predisposition for John Mellencamp and Bruce Springsteen covers.
The fact that Chesney’s musical roots run deep was apparent in his Salt Lake City appearance, halfway through his current “Road and the Radio Tour,” which turned out to be his third stop in Utah in the past three years. A sellout – and seemingly then some – crowd was on its feet for nearly every Chesney song, from his opening single “Summertime” (performed as a surprise opening from halfway up the amphitheatre, with Kenny singing to the cheap seats) to his more established hits, including “Young,” “Anything But Mine” and “How Forever Feels.”
An energetic and passionate performer – with a deep voice that sounds much more resonant live than it does on record – Chesney knocked the socks off a sizzling Salt Lake City audience once again, superbly suited as he is for the hot-summer-nights-and-sitting-on-the-grass ambiance of USANA Amphitheatre (technically in the Salt Lake suburb of West Valley City).
Though he didn’t do any of his familiar ‘80s covers – his versions of Mellencamp’s “Jack & Diane” and “Hurts So Good” and Springsteen’s “One Step Up” are album favorites – Chesney’s sheer exuberance and over-the-top connection with the passionate crowd was on full display throughout the nearly-two-hour show. His audience sang along with nearly every Kenny song of remorse and reminisces, high school and college memories and good times and too much beer in Mexico (among other places).
Kenny's tight and obviously close backing band and feel for performance drove the evening, highlighted as it was by Chesney hits from his early ‘90s breakthrough period to his early 2000s superstardom. Indeed – and with all apologies to Toby Keith and Tim McGraw, two male country superstars of some repute – it seems more than ever that Chesney has inherited the mantle of “Best Live Performer” from the legendary (and quasi-retired) Garth Brooks, who established the current country formula of music and mayhem during his own superstardom ride in the ‘90s.
Whether it was singing with his favorite recurring guest star, Uncle Kracker – and who would have predicted this pairing say five, six years ago? – or compelling the Utah crowd into a sing-along of his own “Back Where I Come From” (interspersed with shot-on-the-day video images of Hires Big H, Bar X, the Delta Center and other Salt Lake-area landmarks), Kenny had the crowd from “hello,” despite his minimal stage chatter and relatively quick song list. For a Wednesday night in Utah (June 21, 2006), Chesney had the party going full steam.
If there was a disappointment, it’s that Kenny is getting so successful (particularly in his last three albums) that he was forced to short-circuit some of his own greatest hits in the interest of performance time. As a result, he grouped “The Good Stuff,” “The Woman In You” and others into a midshow medley and shared his finale, “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy” with opening acts Carrie Underwood and Dierks Bentley (as well as Kracker, who probably hasn’t heard much from Kid Rock lately) as a post-encore sing-along.
Dressed in his patented (and painted on) faded jeans, worn boots and white cowboy hat, with a kind of teal T-shirt that had the girls in the audience squealing between sighs, Kenny’s sheer momentum carried the show from start to finish. And while some of his songs sound a bit the same ¬– titles mesh together; what’s the difference between “There Goes My Life” and “Who You’d Be Today” or “No Shoes. No Shirt. No Problems” and “When The Sun Comes Down,” exactly? – it didn’t much matter. Kenny is King, and on this night, and on this tour, nobody’s arguing.
A FEW WEEKS EARLIER, to a lesser but no less enthusiastic crowd at the same venue, Country Queen Gretchen Wilson served up her own brand of rock and country rockabilly, even paying homage to some of her rock ‘n roll heroes with a soundtrack of traditional rock and roll songs playing on the P.A. system prior to her taking the stage (where she didn’t disappoint with her own covers of hits by Heart and other musical legends).
Much like Chesney, Wilson is a product of the ‘70s and ‘80s – their simmering duet cover of Mellencamp’s “Hurts So Good” was far and away the highlight of an ABC special shot when Gretchen was appearing with Kenny last fall – and her musical tastes also run to rock standards by people like the Wilson sisters and Pat Benatar. But at the same time, Wilson has assumed a favored spot among country music fans, who seem to regard the hard luck working girl from Pocahontas, Illinois (made famous in her own song) as a grittier (and maybe more approachable) working-class version of the country women of today. Indeed, Wilson’s super-sexy appeal (and her simple jeans-boots-tank top wardrobe) essentially positions her as the anti-Shania or Faith. (Nothing against Shania or Faith, mind you.)
Gretchen’s less the homecoming queen, more the gritty stoner chick with the hot body you’d share a cigarette with behind the gymnasium instead of going to class. (Bonus points if she'd ask you for a ride after school.)
That certainly does nothing to diminish her talent or popularity, on full display during a semi-full evening at USANA (June 3, 2006). While she hasn’t quite assembled the catalogue of hits of a Chesney (Wilson is touring in support of what’s just her second album, “All Jacked Up), Gretchen has made the transition from opening act to headliner in style, keeping most of her audience interested with her memorable hits – “Here For The Party” remains the obvious opener, and she has to close with her theme song, “Redneck Woman” – and belt-it-out voice, a nicotine-tinged testimony to what seems like too many long nights, Bud Lights and smoky taverns.
When she appeared in Salt Lake City earlier this summer, Wilson was on her way to California to shoot her new video, the mesmerizing “California Girls” (which began appearing on CMT and GAC this past week). She smiled as she told her Utah audience it’d be her next single – but she never let on how smokin’ she’d be in the final cut.
That’s probably for the best, in retrospect. Redneck woman or not, Wilson is the bluesy heroine of country’s working class, a role model for working women and a sex symbol for guys with beer guts and a taste for women “with a little meat on their bones.” Her songs are funny, self-deprecating and clever and her performance – still a little shy on her variety of songs – was through the roof, sparked as it was by the power of her vocals, sassy strut and good-times-with-the-guys gusto.
My only disappointment on this night: She didn’t do “One Bud Wiser,” one of my personal favorites from her new CD. No matter. I’d chew Skoal and drink whiskey with Gretchen, anytime.
# # #
John Youngren promises to reinvigorate his “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (also known as “Pop Stew”) more regularly now that the rest of the world has caught on to these goddamn things. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
By JOHN YOUNGREN
POP STEW RATINGS: Kenny Chesney at USANA Amphitheatre: ****
Gretchen Wilson at USANA Amphitheatre: ***
SALT LAKE CITY–No matter what you think you’d think of Kenny Chesney, current King of Country Music, the fact is if you’re a music fan with any kind of rock ‘n roll pedigree – and if you happened to grow up in the ‘70s and early ‘80s – Kenny’s gonna appeal to you, especially given his predisposition for John Mellencamp and Bruce Springsteen covers.
The fact that Chesney’s musical roots run deep was apparent in his Salt Lake City appearance, halfway through his current “Road and the Radio Tour,” which turned out to be his third stop in Utah in the past three years. A sellout – and seemingly then some – crowd was on its feet for nearly every Chesney song, from his opening single “Summertime” (performed as a surprise opening from halfway up the amphitheatre, with Kenny singing to the cheap seats) to his more established hits, including “Young,” “Anything But Mine” and “How Forever Feels.”
An energetic and passionate performer – with a deep voice that sounds much more resonant live than it does on record – Chesney knocked the socks off a sizzling Salt Lake City audience once again, superbly suited as he is for the hot-summer-nights-and-sitting-on-the-grass ambiance of USANA Amphitheatre (technically in the Salt Lake suburb of West Valley City).
Though he didn’t do any of his familiar ‘80s covers – his versions of Mellencamp’s “Jack & Diane” and “Hurts So Good” and Springsteen’s “One Step Up” are album favorites – Chesney’s sheer exuberance and over-the-top connection with the passionate crowd was on full display throughout the nearly-two-hour show. His audience sang along with nearly every Kenny song of remorse and reminisces, high school and college memories and good times and too much beer in Mexico (among other places).
Kenny's tight and obviously close backing band and feel for performance drove the evening, highlighted as it was by Chesney hits from his early ‘90s breakthrough period to his early 2000s superstardom. Indeed – and with all apologies to Toby Keith and Tim McGraw, two male country superstars of some repute – it seems more than ever that Chesney has inherited the mantle of “Best Live Performer” from the legendary (and quasi-retired) Garth Brooks, who established the current country formula of music and mayhem during his own superstardom ride in the ‘90s.
Whether it was singing with his favorite recurring guest star, Uncle Kracker – and who would have predicted this pairing say five, six years ago? – or compelling the Utah crowd into a sing-along of his own “Back Where I Come From” (interspersed with shot-on-the-day video images of Hires Big H, Bar X, the Delta Center and other Salt Lake-area landmarks), Kenny had the crowd from “hello,” despite his minimal stage chatter and relatively quick song list. For a Wednesday night in Utah (June 21, 2006), Chesney had the party going full steam.
If there was a disappointment, it’s that Kenny is getting so successful (particularly in his last three albums) that he was forced to short-circuit some of his own greatest hits in the interest of performance time. As a result, he grouped “The Good Stuff,” “The Woman In You” and others into a midshow medley and shared his finale, “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy” with opening acts Carrie Underwood and Dierks Bentley (as well as Kracker, who probably hasn’t heard much from Kid Rock lately) as a post-encore sing-along.
Dressed in his patented (and painted on) faded jeans, worn boots and white cowboy hat, with a kind of teal T-shirt that had the girls in the audience squealing between sighs, Kenny’s sheer momentum carried the show from start to finish. And while some of his songs sound a bit the same ¬– titles mesh together; what’s the difference between “There Goes My Life” and “Who You’d Be Today” or “No Shoes. No Shirt. No Problems” and “When The Sun Comes Down,” exactly? – it didn’t much matter. Kenny is King, and on this night, and on this tour, nobody’s arguing.
A FEW WEEKS EARLIER, to a lesser but no less enthusiastic crowd at the same venue, Country Queen Gretchen Wilson served up her own brand of rock and country rockabilly, even paying homage to some of her rock ‘n roll heroes with a soundtrack of traditional rock and roll songs playing on the P.A. system prior to her taking the stage (where she didn’t disappoint with her own covers of hits by Heart and other musical legends).
Much like Chesney, Wilson is a product of the ‘70s and ‘80s – their simmering duet cover of Mellencamp’s “Hurts So Good” was far and away the highlight of an ABC special shot when Gretchen was appearing with Kenny last fall – and her musical tastes also run to rock standards by people like the Wilson sisters and Pat Benatar. But at the same time, Wilson has assumed a favored spot among country music fans, who seem to regard the hard luck working girl from Pocahontas, Illinois (made famous in her own song) as a grittier (and maybe more approachable) working-class version of the country women of today. Indeed, Wilson’s super-sexy appeal (and her simple jeans-boots-tank top wardrobe) essentially positions her as the anti-Shania or Faith. (Nothing against Shania or Faith, mind you.)
Gretchen’s less the homecoming queen, more the gritty stoner chick with the hot body you’d share a cigarette with behind the gymnasium instead of going to class. (Bonus points if she'd ask you for a ride after school.)
That certainly does nothing to diminish her talent or popularity, on full display during a semi-full evening at USANA (June 3, 2006). While she hasn’t quite assembled the catalogue of hits of a Chesney (Wilson is touring in support of what’s just her second album, “All Jacked Up), Gretchen has made the transition from opening act to headliner in style, keeping most of her audience interested with her memorable hits – “Here For The Party” remains the obvious opener, and she has to close with her theme song, “Redneck Woman” – and belt-it-out voice, a nicotine-tinged testimony to what seems like too many long nights, Bud Lights and smoky taverns.
When she appeared in Salt Lake City earlier this summer, Wilson was on her way to California to shoot her new video, the mesmerizing “California Girls” (which began appearing on CMT and GAC this past week). She smiled as she told her Utah audience it’d be her next single – but she never let on how smokin’ she’d be in the final cut.
That’s probably for the best, in retrospect. Redneck woman or not, Wilson is the bluesy heroine of country’s working class, a role model for working women and a sex symbol for guys with beer guts and a taste for women “with a little meat on their bones.” Her songs are funny, self-deprecating and clever and her performance – still a little shy on her variety of songs – was through the roof, sparked as it was by the power of her vocals, sassy strut and good-times-with-the-guys gusto.
My only disappointment on this night: She didn’t do “One Bud Wiser,” one of my personal favorites from her new CD. No matter. I’d chew Skoal and drink whiskey with Gretchen, anytime.
# # #
John Youngren promises to reinvigorate his “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (also known as “Pop Stew”) more regularly now that the rest of the world has caught on to these goddamn things. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
Monday, July 10, 2006
LETTER FROM SALT LAKE CITY: UTAH-BASED ‘CALLING OUT’ A COMPELLNG READ
POP STEW RATING: **–1/2
By JOHN YOUNGREN
“Calling Out” (2006 fiction)
By Rae Meadows
MacAdam/Cage, 280 pages, $22
While considering “Calling Out,” a new novel by Rae Meadows (a University of Utah master’s graduate, who sets the happenings nearly entirely in Salt Lake City), I went and had a beer at Red Rock, the distinctive brewpub on 200 West, got my clothes cleaned at Red Hanger, the Utah-based line of dry cleaning establishments, and drove past the Village Inn on 400 South, where I sometimes have a Saturday lunch with my mother and sister.
In the midst of reading Meadows’ novel, about an advertising executive-turned-prostitute who leaves New York City and finds herself living in Utah, I also purchased a pizza to go at The Pie, a popular hangout near the University of Utah and talked about Bar X, a beer tavern just down the street from me, on 200 South.
Name checks sounding ridiculous? Well, sure. And maybe I’m just super-sensitive, being just a few blocks away from where most of what Meadows – and her main character, Jane, aka Roxanne – is talking about, given her U of U degree, the book’s locale and her hyper-attentive attention to place and time, despite the fact that most of her audience isn’t really going to appreciate, know or even much care about the particular SLC locations her book mentions.
For example, in just four pages – 66 thru 70, for those of you keeping score at home – Miller manages to drop names of eight local landmarks, including the opening paragraph to Chapter 6:
“Driving south on State Street from downtown Salt Lake, seediness and sprawl take root as the LDS temple (sic) shrinks in the rearview mirror. There is a throwback quality to the used-car dealerships, the stand-alone Sears, and the fast-food restaurants – including the country’s first Kentucky Fried Chicken Franchise, with its script, light-bulbed sign. After Beehive Bail Bonds, South State Street turns into a no-man’s land of decay. In the gelid high desert twilight, it glows in dirty orange and yellow.”
And it ends up at American Bush. Now we’re talking gelid.
And so it goes – Little America and Hotel Monaco and Smith’s in the Avenues and runs to Wendover and Moab. If it weren’t for Miller’s calls-to-call girl story (her character, Jane, starts working for a local escort service as a sort-of dispatcher for her company’s team of sort-of call girls and eventually starts making some of the calls herself), the book would be like reading a random listing of Salt Lake City landmarks and locations, underscored by the main character’s Avenues setting and University of Utah orientation.
And if that’s all there was, I wouldn’t have much more to say about this book, despite its heart-in-the-right-place sentiment and acutely descriptive bottom line: Depressed intelligent woman, around 30. Leaves a boyfriend and a numbing job in New York City. Lands in Salt Lake City, of all places. Becomes a prostitute.
A clever, intuitive writer, Miller infuses Jane with intelligence, warmth and humanity, in spite of the character’s gritty circumstances, dull feelings and general malaise (Miller, the author, apparently worked as a dispatcher-sort for an actual Salt Lake escort service while attending the U of U, giving the whole circumstance a buzz of reality).
Jane’s journey, such as it is, doesn’t have a particularly happy ending. And the men (and w0men) she touches in the course of her discourse present a particularly pathetic, pathologically painful existence, profoundly brought to life by Miller’s descriptions, which seem at least semi-autobiographical, hence all the personal references to place and time.
“Calling Out” isn’t a great novel, but it is a nice first novel, full of characterizations that will keep you thinking long after you finish the final page. And drive by the Little America.
# # #
John Youngren promises to reinvigorate his “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (also known as “Pop Stew”) more regularly now that the rest of the world has caught on to these goddamn things. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
POP STEW RATING: **–1/2
By JOHN YOUNGREN
“Calling Out” (2006 fiction)
By Rae Meadows
MacAdam/Cage, 280 pages, $22
While considering “Calling Out,” a new novel by Rae Meadows (a University of Utah master’s graduate, who sets the happenings nearly entirely in Salt Lake City), I went and had a beer at Red Rock, the distinctive brewpub on 200 West, got my clothes cleaned at Red Hanger, the Utah-based line of dry cleaning establishments, and drove past the Village Inn on 400 South, where I sometimes have a Saturday lunch with my mother and sister.
In the midst of reading Meadows’ novel, about an advertising executive-turned-prostitute who leaves New York City and finds herself living in Utah, I also purchased a pizza to go at The Pie, a popular hangout near the University of Utah and talked about Bar X, a beer tavern just down the street from me, on 200 South.
Name checks sounding ridiculous? Well, sure. And maybe I’m just super-sensitive, being just a few blocks away from where most of what Meadows – and her main character, Jane, aka Roxanne – is talking about, given her U of U degree, the book’s locale and her hyper-attentive attention to place and time, despite the fact that most of her audience isn’t really going to appreciate, know or even much care about the particular SLC locations her book mentions.
For example, in just four pages – 66 thru 70, for those of you keeping score at home – Miller manages to drop names of eight local landmarks, including the opening paragraph to Chapter 6:
“Driving south on State Street from downtown Salt Lake, seediness and sprawl take root as the LDS temple (sic) shrinks in the rearview mirror. There is a throwback quality to the used-car dealerships, the stand-alone Sears, and the fast-food restaurants – including the country’s first Kentucky Fried Chicken Franchise, with its script, light-bulbed sign. After Beehive Bail Bonds, South State Street turns into a no-man’s land of decay. In the gelid high desert twilight, it glows in dirty orange and yellow.”
And it ends up at American Bush. Now we’re talking gelid.
And so it goes – Little America and Hotel Monaco and Smith’s in the Avenues and runs to Wendover and Moab. If it weren’t for Miller’s calls-to-call girl story (her character, Jane, starts working for a local escort service as a sort-of dispatcher for her company’s team of sort-of call girls and eventually starts making some of the calls herself), the book would be like reading a random listing of Salt Lake City landmarks and locations, underscored by the main character’s Avenues setting and University of Utah orientation.
And if that’s all there was, I wouldn’t have much more to say about this book, despite its heart-in-the-right-place sentiment and acutely descriptive bottom line: Depressed intelligent woman, around 30. Leaves a boyfriend and a numbing job in New York City. Lands in Salt Lake City, of all places. Becomes a prostitute.
A clever, intuitive writer, Miller infuses Jane with intelligence, warmth and humanity, in spite of the character’s gritty circumstances, dull feelings and general malaise (Miller, the author, apparently worked as a dispatcher-sort for an actual Salt Lake escort service while attending the U of U, giving the whole circumstance a buzz of reality).
Jane’s journey, such as it is, doesn’t have a particularly happy ending. And the men (and w0men) she touches in the course of her discourse present a particularly pathetic, pathologically painful existence, profoundly brought to life by Miller’s descriptions, which seem at least semi-autobiographical, hence all the personal references to place and time.
“Calling Out” isn’t a great novel, but it is a nice first novel, full of characterizations that will keep you thinking long after you finish the final page. And drive by the Little America.
# # #
John Youngren promises to reinvigorate his “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (also known as “Pop Stew”) more regularly now that the rest of the world has caught on to these goddamn things. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
PIRATES SEQUEL: THE NOVELTY FADES, BUT THE APPEAL REMAINS
POP STEW RATING: ***1/2
By JOHN YOUNGREN
The first “Pirates of the Caribbean” movie, released in 2003, was such a novelty, such a breath of fresh air, such alchemy of charm and story and fantasy and humor and Jerry Bruckheimer adventure that I missed it entirely.
No great fan of the Disneyland ride of yesteryear – I’d seen it live twice, but measured it as a relic of the ‘60s, when Disneyland was built – I didn’t pay much attention when the movie it inspired opened several years ago, despite its blockbuster status, swashbuckling storyline and, yes (cue the squeals here, from women of all ages) presence of Johnny Depp.
As it was, I avoided the film in movie theaters and for more than year after, until my sister, of all people – claiming to be a Johnny guy from “21 Jump Street” but always more of a Richard Grieco fan, truth be told – loaned me her DVD of “Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl” with the mild admonition to watch it because she thought I’d “really like it.”
And so, on one Sunday night a summer ago or so, I plopped the disc in and became enthralled – not only at the clever, in-the-know storyline and sight gags and beyond-fantasy sequences but yes, at Mr. Depp, whom I suddenly regarded as the great character actor of my generation. His nuanced reading of Captain Jack Sparrow – at once one of the great heroes and anti-heroes of recent cinema – was staggeringly fresh and delightful. I stayed up late that Sunday – and was dragging that Monday – after peeling through the DVD’s extras like a can’t-wait-t0-turn-the-page potboiler I had to get through before Monday Staff Meeting.
So it was, a year later, that I arrived at an advance screening of “Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest,” the whole and not wholly satisfying sequel to the original “Pirates” movie and the second – as it turns out, they’ve filmed parts two and three together, such is the nature of Hollywood schedules and budgets – of a scheduled trilogy (with the final film to be released in 2007).
I had a boyhood friend who used to sneak in and not only see but literally handle his Christmas gifts well before Christmas morning, despite my fears (and my personal reluctance) about ruining such potential surprises. And that, just a little, was the feeling I had seeing the second “Pirates” movie – expectations cued, hopes high, articles read; hell, I even watched the E! Entertainment cable coverage of the second “Pirates” red carpet coverage, live from Disneyland, just two days before.
(Complete disclosure: My personal affection for the first movie is so outstanding that I went and purchased the DVD I once borrowed this past weekend after seeing the second outing. Go to Smith’s. It’s just $14.99.)
But, like having lunch with a college girlfriend who’s put on weight, the “Pirates” sequel did have a bit of that “been there, done that” feeling, supplemented by a bloated “what else should we try to do to top ourselves?” sentiment that strained at times, overwhelming its character axis – and Mr. Depp’s considerable charms – and much ado about what? storyline.
That’s not to say “Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest” didn’t make the grade, for the movie in and of itself is a fantastic, scenic swashbuckling gift – as swaggering and sure of itself as a sequel as Captain Jack is on deck – full of clever asides, big-budget visuals and action-packed set pieces sure to thrill the little Sparrows in all of us.
The story, burdened as it is by that “what else is there?” preoccupation, picks up more or less where the last one left off, and leads us on a stormy ride through a newly mounted “Pirates” mythology, decorated to no small degree by Depp and his co-stars, Orlando Bloom as Will Turner and Keira Knightley as Elizabeth something or other (once again playing star-crossed lovers vexed by the always irascible Captain Jack). For an action movie of this category – sure to be one of the summer blockbusters of 2006, the stuff of lunch boxes and comic books and promotional tie-ins – much of “Pirates’” ongoing flair lies with the charms of these three actors, naturally appealing, really sexy and doing their best to overcome the storytelling lulls with charm and exuberance.
The rest of the movie – something about Davy Jones’ heart and a bottle of dirt and Captain Jack’s mortality and a rebellious monkey and Will Turner’s dead-but-not-forgiven father – comes on like a hurricane, so desperate are the moviemakers (Gore Verbinski, who directed the first “Pirates,” is handling the same responsibilities on parts two and three) to keep us from dozing. The result is the action-packed blockbuster everyone was planning on; the downfall is that they get away from much of what made the first movie so engaging. I loved Johnny Depp’s witty byplay and subtle asides in “The Curse of the Black Pearl;” he’s somehow doing both more of that and less of it here. (If it weren’t for Depp’s considerable charisma, you could almost read the Disney memos: “Johnny, what would Jack do here to be crazy, savvy?”)
And the rebellious pirates in this sequel are not so much of the “argh!, matey” variety; they’re more like space demons, Cantina customers from a spooky “Star Wars” sailing the high seas.
The second “Pirates” also suffers, to some degree, but what I call “seconditis,” or the unique frustration of being the second movie in a line that’s suddenly become three. With the first one a hit, “Pirates” producers decided to do two more – see “Back to the Future,” “The Matrix” or the original “Star Wars” series for examples of how this doesn’t quite work – which means they’ve got to both keep their fans happy with nods to the original while also stuffing enough cliffhanging nonsense to make sure we come back, popcorn in hand, for the third part of this insta-trilogy. Somehow filming a couple of new movies simultaneously adds to this problem; it’s like getting a second date but knowing sex isn’t coming until the third: Going through the motions, walking through the part. See you next summer!
All that said, I’m going to just say now that you should go see the damn thing – not so much because it’s “critic-proof," but because this is a really good movie doing exactly what it should. Depp remains absolutely brilliant as Captain Jack, an anti-hero for the ages (and now justifiably recognized as part of the “Pirates” lore, with his character manifested at a newly rejiggered version of the Disneyland ride) and Bloom and Knightley (whose agent clearly had a meeting or two about his girl having more to do in the sequel than look good, which she does just fine) acquit themselves as if they’ve been playing these characters, and in these situations, for years. Your kids are going to want to see it. And, yes, you are too.
And, beyond three, we’d all be onboard for “Pirates” 4, 5, 6 – even 7. What the hell? It may not be as much magical on Christmas morning when you know what the gifts are going to be. But you still get the gifts, nevertheless.
Savvy?
# # #
John Youngren promises to reinvigorate his “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (also known as “Pop Stew”) somewhat regularly again. Promise. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
POP STEW RATING: ***1/2
By JOHN YOUNGREN
The first “Pirates of the Caribbean” movie, released in 2003, was such a novelty, such a breath of fresh air, such alchemy of charm and story and fantasy and humor and Jerry Bruckheimer adventure that I missed it entirely.
No great fan of the Disneyland ride of yesteryear – I’d seen it live twice, but measured it as a relic of the ‘60s, when Disneyland was built – I didn’t pay much attention when the movie it inspired opened several years ago, despite its blockbuster status, swashbuckling storyline and, yes (cue the squeals here, from women of all ages) presence of Johnny Depp.
As it was, I avoided the film in movie theaters and for more than year after, until my sister, of all people – claiming to be a Johnny guy from “21 Jump Street” but always more of a Richard Grieco fan, truth be told – loaned me her DVD of “Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl” with the mild admonition to watch it because she thought I’d “really like it.”
And so, on one Sunday night a summer ago or so, I plopped the disc in and became enthralled – not only at the clever, in-the-know storyline and sight gags and beyond-fantasy sequences but yes, at Mr. Depp, whom I suddenly regarded as the great character actor of my generation. His nuanced reading of Captain Jack Sparrow – at once one of the great heroes and anti-heroes of recent cinema – was staggeringly fresh and delightful. I stayed up late that Sunday – and was dragging that Monday – after peeling through the DVD’s extras like a can’t-wait-t0-turn-the-page potboiler I had to get through before Monday Staff Meeting.
So it was, a year later, that I arrived at an advance screening of “Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest,” the whole and not wholly satisfying sequel to the original “Pirates” movie and the second – as it turns out, they’ve filmed parts two and three together, such is the nature of Hollywood schedules and budgets – of a scheduled trilogy (with the final film to be released in 2007).
I had a boyhood friend who used to sneak in and not only see but literally handle his Christmas gifts well before Christmas morning, despite my fears (and my personal reluctance) about ruining such potential surprises. And that, just a little, was the feeling I had seeing the second “Pirates” movie – expectations cued, hopes high, articles read; hell, I even watched the E! Entertainment cable coverage of the second “Pirates” red carpet coverage, live from Disneyland, just two days before.
(Complete disclosure: My personal affection for the first movie is so outstanding that I went and purchased the DVD I once borrowed this past weekend after seeing the second outing. Go to Smith’s. It’s just $14.99.)
But, like having lunch with a college girlfriend who’s put on weight, the “Pirates” sequel did have a bit of that “been there, done that” feeling, supplemented by a bloated “what else should we try to do to top ourselves?” sentiment that strained at times, overwhelming its character axis – and Mr. Depp’s considerable charms – and much ado about what? storyline.
That’s not to say “Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest” didn’t make the grade, for the movie in and of itself is a fantastic, scenic swashbuckling gift – as swaggering and sure of itself as a sequel as Captain Jack is on deck – full of clever asides, big-budget visuals and action-packed set pieces sure to thrill the little Sparrows in all of us.
The story, burdened as it is by that “what else is there?” preoccupation, picks up more or less where the last one left off, and leads us on a stormy ride through a newly mounted “Pirates” mythology, decorated to no small degree by Depp and his co-stars, Orlando Bloom as Will Turner and Keira Knightley as Elizabeth something or other (once again playing star-crossed lovers vexed by the always irascible Captain Jack). For an action movie of this category – sure to be one of the summer blockbusters of 2006, the stuff of lunch boxes and comic books and promotional tie-ins – much of “Pirates’” ongoing flair lies with the charms of these three actors, naturally appealing, really sexy and doing their best to overcome the storytelling lulls with charm and exuberance.
The rest of the movie – something about Davy Jones’ heart and a bottle of dirt and Captain Jack’s mortality and a rebellious monkey and Will Turner’s dead-but-not-forgiven father – comes on like a hurricane, so desperate are the moviemakers (Gore Verbinski, who directed the first “Pirates,” is handling the same responsibilities on parts two and three) to keep us from dozing. The result is the action-packed blockbuster everyone was planning on; the downfall is that they get away from much of what made the first movie so engaging. I loved Johnny Depp’s witty byplay and subtle asides in “The Curse of the Black Pearl;” he’s somehow doing both more of that and less of it here. (If it weren’t for Depp’s considerable charisma, you could almost read the Disney memos: “Johnny, what would Jack do here to be crazy, savvy?”)
And the rebellious pirates in this sequel are not so much of the “argh!, matey” variety; they’re more like space demons, Cantina customers from a spooky “Star Wars” sailing the high seas.
The second “Pirates” also suffers, to some degree, but what I call “seconditis,” or the unique frustration of being the second movie in a line that’s suddenly become three. With the first one a hit, “Pirates” producers decided to do two more – see “Back to the Future,” “The Matrix” or the original “Star Wars” series for examples of how this doesn’t quite work – which means they’ve got to both keep their fans happy with nods to the original while also stuffing enough cliffhanging nonsense to make sure we come back, popcorn in hand, for the third part of this insta-trilogy. Somehow filming a couple of new movies simultaneously adds to this problem; it’s like getting a second date but knowing sex isn’t coming until the third: Going through the motions, walking through the part. See you next summer!
All that said, I’m going to just say now that you should go see the damn thing – not so much because it’s “critic-proof," but because this is a really good movie doing exactly what it should. Depp remains absolutely brilliant as Captain Jack, an anti-hero for the ages (and now justifiably recognized as part of the “Pirates” lore, with his character manifested at a newly rejiggered version of the Disneyland ride) and Bloom and Knightley (whose agent clearly had a meeting or two about his girl having more to do in the sequel than look good, which she does just fine) acquit themselves as if they’ve been playing these characters, and in these situations, for years. Your kids are going to want to see it. And, yes, you are too.
And, beyond three, we’d all be onboard for “Pirates” 4, 5, 6 – even 7. What the hell? It may not be as much magical on Christmas morning when you know what the gifts are going to be. But you still get the gifts, nevertheless.
Savvy?
# # #
John Youngren promises to reinvigorate his “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (also known as “Pop Stew”) somewhat regularly again. Promise. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
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