I don't know about anyone else, but there is no way I could survive on a desert island with only CD's and DVD's to keep me company. I would have to have my favorite books along with me. So, in keeping with the theme of these posts, there are a few ground rules. I can only bring 10 books with me, and I can only bring one book per author, although if one of the authors has co-written a book with another author, then that is OK. And I'm not limiting myself to just fiction, any book which I absolutely must have with me and is one of my all-time favorites is eligible.
So, how do I pick my top ten? I'm certainly not going to pick the great classics that all the English profs love that I wouldn't pick up and read again if my life depended on it (sorry, WCK). So, you're not going to find any Dickens, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Orwell, or really any of the truly great authors represented on my list. What you'll find are the ten books that have affected me most, that I can read over and over again, that have influenced me in some fashion, or simply given me the most joy. Many are books I read when I was younger, even when I was a kid. One of these books helped influence me in my career path. And another remains my favorite book since the first time I read it. So, without further ado, here are my top 10 books, in no particular order.
1. "The Stand" by Stephen King
It should come as no shock whatsoever to anyone who knows me what my first choice would be. I have stated on this blog before that I am one of Stephen King's "constant readers", having read every one of his books and being a lifetime fan. "The Stand" came pretty early in King's career, and despite some game efforts, he has never equalled it in terms of scope and power. It is an epic in every way possible, and it tells a story that captivates almost from the first page. It presents vivid characters in compelling situations, and it starts off by killing off almost the entire population of the planet. But if there's one thing that "The Stand" does as well, if not better, than any other work of fiction, is present a fascinating and complex villain. In fact, it gives us not one, but three villains, marvelously drawn and endlessly interesting. There is Lloyd Henreid, the two-bit loser who rises up from the plague known as Captain Trips to become a powerful force in Las Vegas. There's the Trashcan Man, one of the most compelling and complicated characters in all of King's fiction. And then there is Randall Flagg, the Dark Man, the personification of evil who becomes one of the two dominating forces in the post-plague world. It's a classic tale of good versus evil, with all the usual wonderful King touches. At over a thousand pages, it is endlessly readable and never ceases to amaze. It's my all-time favorite.
2. "The Talisman" by Stephen King and Richard Straub
This is the kind of book that non-Stephen King fans love. It is not scary in any way, shape, or form, but more like an epic quest, sort of similar to "Lord of the Rings", without the complexity. Straub played the perfect foil for King and they created a wonderful tale of two parallel worlds, whose very survival depends on the success of twelve year-old Travelling Jack, and his pal, Rational Richard. They "flip" between both worlds as they fight bad guys and monsters in their quest to get the Talisman, and bring it back to save Jack's mother and the Queen of the Territories. A rich and compelling tale of heroism and sacrifice, this is a tremendous book which demands multiple readings to get the full essence of its greatness. Straub has never been better and the combination of he and King was pure magic, something they fell far short of in the sequel.
3. "Exodus" by Leon Uris
I've read most of Uris's books, but nothing has affected me quite like "Exodus." Maybe it has something to do with being Jewish, or maybe not. Uris does an incredible job of telling the story of the Jewish emigration to Palestine, the rise of the Jewish state, and the experience of these people in World War II, as they tried to survive the Holocaust. It's a powerful, touching, heartfelt story, and if it seems quaint in light of today's politics, it remains a wonderfully compelling read.
4. "The Godfather" by Mario Puzo
This choice pretty sums up what I was talking about in my introduction, I am less interested in bringing classic novels with me to my island than I am in bringing entertaining and enjoyable fiction. Many people deride this novel by stating that the movie was better, and if that is what they truly believe, they need to read the book again. The epic story of Don Vito Coreleone and his family remains an exciting, dramatic, and fascinating tale. The Godfather is fleshed out much more in the book than he was in the movie, and supporting characters such as Lucy Mancini and Johnny Fontaine are given far more time and become that much more interesting. A true American classic of history, intrigue, crime, and family values, during the tumultuous early half of the 20th century, "The Godfather" presents the classic tale of immigrants and how they made do and survived in their new country to become powerful and dangerous, without losing their character and culture. Well, at least some of them didn't.
5. "The World according to Garp" by John Irving
Has there ever been a book or main character quite like Garp? Or a supporting character such as Garp's mother, Jenny Fields? And how many books prior to this one presented a critical supporting character that was a transexual former pro football player with romance problems, a la Roberta Muldoon? Irving struck gold with this novel of vivid characters, fascinating situations, and topical issues. He successfully balanced joy and humor, with tragedy and pathos. And he does so in a readable and entertaining manner that he has never been able to attain since. No matter, Garp is his masterpiece and will make Irving memorable forever.
6. "Helter Skelter" by Vincent Bugliosi
I don't think I've ever read anything more fascinating than Bugliosi's story of the Manson family, the horrific murders they committed at the behest of their leader, Charles Manson, and the resulting trial in Los Angeles, which was prosecuted by Bugliosi. Unless you've hidden under a rock, you know the story, but it's hard to deny the fascination of reading about how it all went down, and was subsequently pieced together by Bugliosi. This was the book which influenced my career path, and I have not looked back since.
7. "Ball Four" by Jim Bouton
It's a shame that Bouton became such a pariah for writng this expose of baseball during the 1969 season. It seems almost tame by today's standards and the knowledge we now have of ballplayers. But back then, it was scandalous. Bouton was excoriated by the baseball establishment and he is still shunned by most retired ballplayers. But every kid in America back then, including the author of this blog, owned the book, and read it endlessly. I know some guys who bragged that it was the only book they ever read as a kid. And I know others who claimed that they only read it late at night, with a flashlight in their beds, long after their parents went to sleep. Quite simply, it's the best book ever written about baseball, maybe about all sports, and it is an absolute gem. Bouton should be enshrined in the Hall of Fame. Right, like that will ever happen!
8. "Seven Days in May" by Fletcher Knebel
I'm not sure why this book hit me as hard as it did when I first read it as a kid, but it did and still does. The story is compelling, the characters are rich, and the dialogue is first-rate. A wonderful Cold War thriller with a roller-coaster plot and a satisfying climax.
9. "Ragtime" by E.L. Doctorow
A great novel which combines real and fictional characters in a time that now seems almost ancient, "Ragtime" manages the difficult task of being entertaining, outrageous, and topical. The issue of racism has never been presented quite like this before, and the book manages to enthrall and enlighten at the same time.
10. "Catch-22" by Joseph Heller
An all-time classic, which manages to be funny, shocking, horrifying, ridiculous, touching, and mysterious. With a timeline which makes no sense, and a story that goes back and forth in time at a dizzying pace, Heller tells the story of Yossarian, the World War II pilot who wants nothing more than to complete his required missions and get the hell back to the states. Perhaps the best book about war ever written.
So, there it is, my top 10 list of books I need to have on my desert island. Good Heavens, in writing out my list, I've remembered a whole bunch of others that I should have, could have, included. Books like Vonnegut's "Slaughterhouse Five" and Wolfe's "The Bonfire of the Vanities" should be on my list somewhere. Maybe I'll change the rules and take more than ten with me to the island.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The Grand Poker Series at the Golden Nugget
It was four years ago that I played in an early event at the World Series of Poker. I don't think a day has gone by that I haven't thought about it. Looking back, I know now that I wasn't ready. I really didn't have much of a clue. In retrospect, it's not surprising that I got knocked out fifteen minutes into the tournament.
Since then, I've been to a poker boot camp and learned from pros like T.J. Cloutier and Vanessa Ruosso how to play a no-limit tournament. I've played dozens, no, make that hundreds, of no-limit hold em tournaments in casinos, online, and at private homes. I've won a couple outright, chopped a victory a number of times with other players, finished at numerous final tables, and got knocked out in every which way possible. I now have a clue, and a strategy, and a game plan. I have confidence, and I always expect to do well, so that when I don't, I am disappointed.
The original game plan was to go back to the World Series this year, and play in an early event for a thousand dollar buy-in. Then, I recieved an offer from the Golden Nugget hotel to stay at an extremely discounted rate and participate in their Grand Poker Series of tournaments. Apparently, several Vegas casinos these days, including the Nugget, put on major tournament series to compete with the World Series. The buy-ins are much less than the World Series, but the competition was supposed to be stiff and the tournaments had the reputation of being extremely challenging. So, I opted to do that instead, and see how things went, as a sort of test for whether I'm ready for the World Series.
On Saturday, I played in a $135 dollar buy-in tournament. There were 372 players in the tournament, and we were in a huge room at the Nugget. Other than the WSOP four years ago, it was the biggest tournament I ever played in. The legendary poker brat, Phil Hellmuth, was there for the start and kicked it off. We started at noon with a chip stack of 12, 000 chips.
The first four hours were absolutlely brutal. Other than A-K one time, I never got a premium hand, not in the whole four hours. And when I did hit with a hand, Lady Luck kicked me in the ass. Here's an example of what I'm talking about. We were probably about an hour or so into the tournament. The player on my left was very aggressive, but not very smart. He was one of the few mediocre players I saw all day. Anyway, he had foolishly lost more than half his chips, and he was scuffling with about 4,000 or so chips left. I was in early position, and I looked at 10-J suited in spades, normally not a hand you want to play in early position. But I had barely played a hand all tournament to that point, so I put in a raise of three times the big blind, which Mr. Aggressive promptly called. The blinds also called my raise, so it was just the four of us. The flop came A-K-Q, rainbow, which means all different suits. I had flopped top straight, and I held in my emotions as I checked to Mr. Aggressive. He took the bait, and went all in. The two blinds folded, and I called. He had A-10, and almost cried when he saw that I had already made my straight. He got up to leave, and then on the river, a Jack fell, giving him a straight as well, making us chop the pot, and giving this jerk new life. And that's the way things went for the first four hours. Most of the time, I had nothing but crap, and had to fold. I won two other times when I had to chop the pot with someone, and I was watching my stack dwindle.
I made it to the second break and called my wife, telling her that I would probably be out soon. It was disgusting, crappy cards and crappy luck. I had managed to stay disciplined and patient, I refused to gamble with garbage hands, and the few bluffs I made were done when I was in position and there had been no raises in front of me. Even one of those backfired, when two 9's came on the flop and one of the other players at the table called my continuation bet after the flop. I checked the turn, and when he fired out with a bet that would have put me all in, I folded. Other than that, I remained disciplined and patient, but my stack was dwindling, the blinds were going up and it was only a matter of time.
About five hours into the tournament, I looked at my hand to see pocket aces for the first time. The big blind was 1,000 at that time, and the guy to the right of me raised to 4,000. My stack was only about 8,000, so I shoved all-in. Everyone else folded, and he called. With the blinds, antes, and our bets, there was about 21,000 chips in the pot. He showed pocket queens, I had the aces, and there was no miracle queen on the board for him, so my aces held up and for the first time that day, I won a big pot.
About a half hour later, I was the big blind, which was now 1,500. A guy three seats to the left of me raised to 4,500, and the guy next to him made it 10,000. Everyone folded around to me, and then I looked at my hand (when I am in the big blind, I don't look at my cards until it is my turn to act). I looked down at pocket aces one more time. In the big blind, of all things. I thought about how I wanted to play it, and knew that at least one of these guys, if not both, would have to be aggressive and probably call a re-raise if I made one. I wanted to make it as expensive as possible for them to call, so that if they sucked out on me (ended up with a better or winning hand with the cards on the board), they would have to pay to do so. I pushed all in with a stack of about 20,000 chips.
The first guy thought long and hard, for him to call meant throwing all his chips in, since I had him covered. He ended up folding after thinking about it for quite some time. The other guy called. There was just under 50,000 chips in the pot. I turned over pocket aces, and he turned over KQ suited. The board was an absolute blank for him, and I scooped in a huge pot, and crippled the guy, who up to that time had shown that he was a good, solid player.
The dinner break came after hour number six, and I was overjoyed to have made it that far, considering the horrible cards and horrible luck I had in the first four hours. Not to mention, the level of competition. Other than a couple of donkeys, the vast majority of poker players in this tournament were very good players, solid and somewhat intimidating. And I was holding my own with them.
The tournament continued, and I continued to play solid and disciplined. I never was able to get on the kind of run that would give me a huge, commanding stack, but I picked my spots, played aggressively when I had a good hand, or was in position, and continued to hold my own. I never got much below 35,000 chips and never quite got up to 50,000, but I continued to hold on, as hour after hour passed, and players kept getting knocked out, three of which were courtesy of yours truly.
The bubble position was 37, which meant the person who got knocked out in 37th position would be the last player to win nothing. Everyone after that would be in the money. When we got to 37 players left (including me, incredibly), they asked if we would agree to take $200 off the winner's share, and give that to the bubble. We all agreed, and so, just like that, we were all in the money. It was after midnight, and we had been at this thing for twelve hours.
I don't remember a whole lot of the next 45 minutes or so. I folded the crap I got, and went all in when I had a hand. I was no match for the monster stacks of some of the other players, and I was just trying to hold on. Several players who had been knocked out earlier in the day or night came back into the room, some of them had been at my table. They looked at me and remarked about how impressed they were that I was still there, I had been short-stacked pretty much all day and night. Obviously, it takes superb playing to last as long as I did without getting a string of great cards. I was exhausted, but still focused and determined.
At 12:55 a.m., there were 31 of us left. I looked down at A-Q suited, and went all in. Everyone folded, and I finally scooped a pot that put me over the 50,000 chip plateau. I remarked to one of the other guys at the table that it was the first time all day I had reached that milestone. The very next hand, I looked down at pocket 8's, so I figured I would be good to do it again, and increase my stack. I went all in, and then was surprised to be called by one of the monster stacks at the table, who had about 7 or 8 times as many chips as I did. When he turned over pocket aces, I could feel my heart break. And then I watched the board, waiting and praying for the miracle 8, which would allow me to continue to play. But it never came. And I was done. 13 hours and only God knew how many hundreds of hands later, I was knocked out in 31st place. That's 31st out of 372. I shook hands with several players as I got up to leave. There's a comaraderie that builds up in a poker tournament, and when you get that far in a major tournament, you win the respect of all the other players at your table. Luck can only get you so far, you need skill and solid play to get as far as I did. Especially considering the field, which was dominated by solid, excellent poker players.
I got my winnings, and headed up to my room, where my poor wife was waiting in bed, having spent 13 hours by herself in Vegas while I played in this tournament. I was exhausted, mentally drained, but absolutley exhilarated. I had made it into the money, finished 31st out of a field of 372, stayed focused and disciplined for 13 hours. I felt triumphant.
The Grand Poker Series tournament was a major test for my poker playing, and I came through with flying colors. All things considered, it was my best performance in any poker tournament, and as I write this three days later, I am proud as hell. I feel like I've turned a corner, and I will be ready for the World Series of Poker next year. I can't wait.
Since then, I've been to a poker boot camp and learned from pros like T.J. Cloutier and Vanessa Ruosso how to play a no-limit tournament. I've played dozens, no, make that hundreds, of no-limit hold em tournaments in casinos, online, and at private homes. I've won a couple outright, chopped a victory a number of times with other players, finished at numerous final tables, and got knocked out in every which way possible. I now have a clue, and a strategy, and a game plan. I have confidence, and I always expect to do well, so that when I don't, I am disappointed.
The original game plan was to go back to the World Series this year, and play in an early event for a thousand dollar buy-in. Then, I recieved an offer from the Golden Nugget hotel to stay at an extremely discounted rate and participate in their Grand Poker Series of tournaments. Apparently, several Vegas casinos these days, including the Nugget, put on major tournament series to compete with the World Series. The buy-ins are much less than the World Series, but the competition was supposed to be stiff and the tournaments had the reputation of being extremely challenging. So, I opted to do that instead, and see how things went, as a sort of test for whether I'm ready for the World Series.
On Saturday, I played in a $135 dollar buy-in tournament. There were 372 players in the tournament, and we were in a huge room at the Nugget. Other than the WSOP four years ago, it was the biggest tournament I ever played in. The legendary poker brat, Phil Hellmuth, was there for the start and kicked it off. We started at noon with a chip stack of 12, 000 chips.
The first four hours were absolutlely brutal. Other than A-K one time, I never got a premium hand, not in the whole four hours. And when I did hit with a hand, Lady Luck kicked me in the ass. Here's an example of what I'm talking about. We were probably about an hour or so into the tournament. The player on my left was very aggressive, but not very smart. He was one of the few mediocre players I saw all day. Anyway, he had foolishly lost more than half his chips, and he was scuffling with about 4,000 or so chips left. I was in early position, and I looked at 10-J suited in spades, normally not a hand you want to play in early position. But I had barely played a hand all tournament to that point, so I put in a raise of three times the big blind, which Mr. Aggressive promptly called. The blinds also called my raise, so it was just the four of us. The flop came A-K-Q, rainbow, which means all different suits. I had flopped top straight, and I held in my emotions as I checked to Mr. Aggressive. He took the bait, and went all in. The two blinds folded, and I called. He had A-10, and almost cried when he saw that I had already made my straight. He got up to leave, and then on the river, a Jack fell, giving him a straight as well, making us chop the pot, and giving this jerk new life. And that's the way things went for the first four hours. Most of the time, I had nothing but crap, and had to fold. I won two other times when I had to chop the pot with someone, and I was watching my stack dwindle.
I made it to the second break and called my wife, telling her that I would probably be out soon. It was disgusting, crappy cards and crappy luck. I had managed to stay disciplined and patient, I refused to gamble with garbage hands, and the few bluffs I made were done when I was in position and there had been no raises in front of me. Even one of those backfired, when two 9's came on the flop and one of the other players at the table called my continuation bet after the flop. I checked the turn, and when he fired out with a bet that would have put me all in, I folded. Other than that, I remained disciplined and patient, but my stack was dwindling, the blinds were going up and it was only a matter of time.
About five hours into the tournament, I looked at my hand to see pocket aces for the first time. The big blind was 1,000 at that time, and the guy to the right of me raised to 4,000. My stack was only about 8,000, so I shoved all-in. Everyone else folded, and he called. With the blinds, antes, and our bets, there was about 21,000 chips in the pot. He showed pocket queens, I had the aces, and there was no miracle queen on the board for him, so my aces held up and for the first time that day, I won a big pot.
About a half hour later, I was the big blind, which was now 1,500. A guy three seats to the left of me raised to 4,500, and the guy next to him made it 10,000. Everyone folded around to me, and then I looked at my hand (when I am in the big blind, I don't look at my cards until it is my turn to act). I looked down at pocket aces one more time. In the big blind, of all things. I thought about how I wanted to play it, and knew that at least one of these guys, if not both, would have to be aggressive and probably call a re-raise if I made one. I wanted to make it as expensive as possible for them to call, so that if they sucked out on me (ended up with a better or winning hand with the cards on the board), they would have to pay to do so. I pushed all in with a stack of about 20,000 chips.
The first guy thought long and hard, for him to call meant throwing all his chips in, since I had him covered. He ended up folding after thinking about it for quite some time. The other guy called. There was just under 50,000 chips in the pot. I turned over pocket aces, and he turned over KQ suited. The board was an absolute blank for him, and I scooped in a huge pot, and crippled the guy, who up to that time had shown that he was a good, solid player.
The dinner break came after hour number six, and I was overjoyed to have made it that far, considering the horrible cards and horrible luck I had in the first four hours. Not to mention, the level of competition. Other than a couple of donkeys, the vast majority of poker players in this tournament were very good players, solid and somewhat intimidating. And I was holding my own with them.
The tournament continued, and I continued to play solid and disciplined. I never was able to get on the kind of run that would give me a huge, commanding stack, but I picked my spots, played aggressively when I had a good hand, or was in position, and continued to hold my own. I never got much below 35,000 chips and never quite got up to 50,000, but I continued to hold on, as hour after hour passed, and players kept getting knocked out, three of which were courtesy of yours truly.
The bubble position was 37, which meant the person who got knocked out in 37th position would be the last player to win nothing. Everyone after that would be in the money. When we got to 37 players left (including me, incredibly), they asked if we would agree to take $200 off the winner's share, and give that to the bubble. We all agreed, and so, just like that, we were all in the money. It was after midnight, and we had been at this thing for twelve hours.
I don't remember a whole lot of the next 45 minutes or so. I folded the crap I got, and went all in when I had a hand. I was no match for the monster stacks of some of the other players, and I was just trying to hold on. Several players who had been knocked out earlier in the day or night came back into the room, some of them had been at my table. They looked at me and remarked about how impressed they were that I was still there, I had been short-stacked pretty much all day and night. Obviously, it takes superb playing to last as long as I did without getting a string of great cards. I was exhausted, but still focused and determined.
At 12:55 a.m., there were 31 of us left. I looked down at A-Q suited, and went all in. Everyone folded, and I finally scooped a pot that put me over the 50,000 chip plateau. I remarked to one of the other guys at the table that it was the first time all day I had reached that milestone. The very next hand, I looked down at pocket 8's, so I figured I would be good to do it again, and increase my stack. I went all in, and then was surprised to be called by one of the monster stacks at the table, who had about 7 or 8 times as many chips as I did. When he turned over pocket aces, I could feel my heart break. And then I watched the board, waiting and praying for the miracle 8, which would allow me to continue to play. But it never came. And I was done. 13 hours and only God knew how many hundreds of hands later, I was knocked out in 31st place. That's 31st out of 372. I shook hands with several players as I got up to leave. There's a comaraderie that builds up in a poker tournament, and when you get that far in a major tournament, you win the respect of all the other players at your table. Luck can only get you so far, you need skill and solid play to get as far as I did. Especially considering the field, which was dominated by solid, excellent poker players.
I got my winnings, and headed up to my room, where my poor wife was waiting in bed, having spent 13 hours by herself in Vegas while I played in this tournament. I was exhausted, mentally drained, but absolutley exhilarated. I had made it into the money, finished 31st out of a field of 372, stayed focused and disciplined for 13 hours. I felt triumphant.
The Grand Poker Series tournament was a major test for my poker playing, and I came through with flying colors. All things considered, it was my best performance in any poker tournament, and as I write this three days later, I am proud as hell. I feel like I've turned a corner, and I will be ready for the World Series of Poker next year. I can't wait.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
The final episodes of "24" and "Lost", or What in the world am I going to do on Monday and Tuesday nights from now on?
Two of my favorite TV shows wrapped up last week, "24" and "Lost." I came to both shows late, became entranced with them, caught up by renting the DVD's and then followed them to their finales. I believe that they are two of the best TV shows ever produced, and they will be missed, at least by me.
"24" was my once a week vacation from the realities of my life. It gave me a larger than life hero, exciting stories, complicated characters, and intensity from start to finish. More than that, though, "24" provided a unique premise, with each episode comprising one hour in a continuous day told in real time. I believe it's the premise more than anything which made the show work.
This season's story was great for the first few episodes and then sort of lost its way. What was missing was a dynamic villain, always a key element in "24." Finally, they brought back disgraced deposed former President Charles Logan, one of the all-time great TV villains, and the show rocked from that point on. The finale was exciting, suspenseful and touching. The final tender moment between Jack and Chloe was heart-breaking, and very well acted. It was a wonderful, albeit surprising, ending since practically everyone was expecting Jack to die. It left open the possibility of more seasons (which won't happen) or a "24" movie (which I hope to hell won't happen). And it showed once again how crucial the performance of Kiefer Sutherland has been to the success of the show. Before "24", Kiefer was a moderately successful young actor, probably best known for being the son of Donald Sutherland, and for playing the teenage punk/bad guy in "Stand by Me." "24" has provided him opportunities to grow and transform as an actor, and he has not disappointed. Kiefer has become a star, and it will be interesting to see where he goes from here.
"Lost" was a very different piece of escapism for me. A show that was often maddening in its endless mysteries and plot twists, the creators have spent this season answering all the questions. And while not everything has made perfect sense, the final episode did bring some finality.
In keeping with the show's history, the final episode was open to several different interpretations, including the very wrong "they all died in the plane crash and the entire show was just a dying dream of Jack's" (I always thought it interesting that the central character of both shows was named Jack and were actually very similar). Anyone who believes that interpretation wasn't paying attention. So here's my interpretation:
The island was a real place, complete with a special magnetic force and other mystical, special qualities. Jacob was the protector of the island, and he was flawed in his treatment of his brother, the "Man in Black", whose goal was to kill Jacob and get off the island. The island was settled by the Dharma initiative, which built a village and several scientific laboratories or stations. The others, and their offspring, including Ben, were brought to the island by the Dharma initiative. Jacob hand selected several individuals, or candidates, to come to the island to take his place as keeper of the island. He manipulated them to be on the plane, and then created the events which caused the plane to crash. Everything that happened on the island, and to the "Oceanic Six" really did happen. Jack died in the last episode re-igniting the force and light, and Hurley became the keeper of the island, while Ben became the "Number two", or the replacement for the Man in Black. The flash sideways stories of the final season was the fantasy world, how the characters would have liked their lives to have been. Those stories took place after the characters died, in some sort of after-life, and when they remembered each other and were re-united in the church, they were in that after-life place, sometime in the future after they all had died. Ben did not come into the church because he had more to do, and could not be part of the reunion.
Or, at least, that's my interpretation. It makes sense to me. And it illustrates what was so great about the show, its complexities, its different interpretations, and its fascinating story. Despite its maddening premise, the show kept me riveted week after week. The writing was great, the acting was solid, and the setting was utopian. Like "24", it provided a wonderful hour-long escape from the reality of my life. And that's what can be great about television, that you can for one hour escape into some fantasy show, and forget about your problems and everyday stresses. Both "24" and "Lost" succeeded in that admirably, and I will miss them both.
"24" was my once a week vacation from the realities of my life. It gave me a larger than life hero, exciting stories, complicated characters, and intensity from start to finish. More than that, though, "24" provided a unique premise, with each episode comprising one hour in a continuous day told in real time. I believe it's the premise more than anything which made the show work.
This season's story was great for the first few episodes and then sort of lost its way. What was missing was a dynamic villain, always a key element in "24." Finally, they brought back disgraced deposed former President Charles Logan, one of the all-time great TV villains, and the show rocked from that point on. The finale was exciting, suspenseful and touching. The final tender moment between Jack and Chloe was heart-breaking, and very well acted. It was a wonderful, albeit surprising, ending since practically everyone was expecting Jack to die. It left open the possibility of more seasons (which won't happen) or a "24" movie (which I hope to hell won't happen). And it showed once again how crucial the performance of Kiefer Sutherland has been to the success of the show. Before "24", Kiefer was a moderately successful young actor, probably best known for being the son of Donald Sutherland, and for playing the teenage punk/bad guy in "Stand by Me." "24" has provided him opportunities to grow and transform as an actor, and he has not disappointed. Kiefer has become a star, and it will be interesting to see where he goes from here.
"Lost" was a very different piece of escapism for me. A show that was often maddening in its endless mysteries and plot twists, the creators have spent this season answering all the questions. And while not everything has made perfect sense, the final episode did bring some finality.
In keeping with the show's history, the final episode was open to several different interpretations, including the very wrong "they all died in the plane crash and the entire show was just a dying dream of Jack's" (I always thought it interesting that the central character of both shows was named Jack and were actually very similar). Anyone who believes that interpretation wasn't paying attention. So here's my interpretation:
The island was a real place, complete with a special magnetic force and other mystical, special qualities. Jacob was the protector of the island, and he was flawed in his treatment of his brother, the "Man in Black", whose goal was to kill Jacob and get off the island. The island was settled by the Dharma initiative, which built a village and several scientific laboratories or stations. The others, and their offspring, including Ben, were brought to the island by the Dharma initiative. Jacob hand selected several individuals, or candidates, to come to the island to take his place as keeper of the island. He manipulated them to be on the plane, and then created the events which caused the plane to crash. Everything that happened on the island, and to the "Oceanic Six" really did happen. Jack died in the last episode re-igniting the force and light, and Hurley became the keeper of the island, while Ben became the "Number two", or the replacement for the Man in Black. The flash sideways stories of the final season was the fantasy world, how the characters would have liked their lives to have been. Those stories took place after the characters died, in some sort of after-life, and when they remembered each other and were re-united in the church, they were in that after-life place, sometime in the future after they all had died. Ben did not come into the church because he had more to do, and could not be part of the reunion.
Or, at least, that's my interpretation. It makes sense to me. And it illustrates what was so great about the show, its complexities, its different interpretations, and its fascinating story. Despite its maddening premise, the show kept me riveted week after week. The writing was great, the acting was solid, and the setting was utopian. Like "24", it provided a wonderful hour-long escape from the reality of my life. And that's what can be great about television, that you can for one hour escape into some fantasy show, and forget about your problems and everyday stresses. Both "24" and "Lost" succeeded in that admirably, and I will miss them both.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Sir Paul
I was five years old when The Beatles first came into my life. It was December, 1963, and everyone, even five year-olds like me, was still in shock over the Kennedy assassination. Suddenly, the radio was filled with the sounds of this new group from England. Songs like "I Want to Hold Your Hand", "She Loves You", "All My Loving" and "I Saw Her Standing There" were being played constantly. My cousin bought the first album "Meet The Beatles" and I bought the follow-up, "The Beatles Second Album" and we played those two records to death.
Beatlemania was unlike anything that had happened before or since. In February of 1964, like millions of American kids, I sat in my living room with my parents on a Sunday night and watched The Beatles perform on The Ed Sullivan Show. I was mesmerized. I got every album and 45 I could lay my hands on, not to mention plastic Beatle guitars, wigs, and trading cards. When the movie of "A Hard Day's Night" came to my local drive-in that summer, my parents took us to see the movie. I will never forget the cars filled with screaming teenage girls on either side of us. I was six years old, and a hard-core Beatles fan.
As I got older, my musical tastes branched out to embrace other groups, but The Beatles were always number one. I idolized John Lennon, but I truly loved them all. Their music was, and still is, simply incredible. When the band broke up in 1970, I was pretty devestated, but I understood that it was inevitable. I continued to be a fan of their solo work, but I was underwhelmed by Paul's initial output. I was not a great fan of Wings, but they got better as they got along, and by the time they released their seminal live album, "Wings over America," I had grown to appreciate them.
My first live rock concert was, no coincidence, George Harrison in 1974. It probably was not that great, musically, but there he was in the flesh, a real live Beatle. He sang "In My Life" and dedicated it to John, Paul, and Ringo. And he did a great job with "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," although Eric Clapton was not there to assist with the guitar, as he does on the White Album.
I regret that I never got to see John in concert prior to his murder. And I will always remember being angry at Paul's seemingly nonchalant reaction to his former partner's death. Paul has always maintained that he was in shock at the time and was actually devestated by John's murder. I was willing to concede him that, but I was still annoyed by the mediocre pop drivel he was putting out. Songs like "Silly Love Songs", "Say Say Say", and "Ebony and Ivory" were pretty bad, although I have to admit a perverse fondness for "Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey."
I got the opportunity to see Paul in 1990 on a brutally hot summer night in Sun Devil Stadium in Tempe, Arizona. Paul was quite good, his backing band was adequate, and he did do about 7 or 8 Beatle songs. I was satisfied in having seen another Beatle, but I was not, in any way, ovewhelmed.
So, when my wife told me that she wanted to go to the McCartney concert in Glendale this spring, which would launch Paul's latest tour, I was not particularly excited about it. She wanted to take our kids and give them an opportunity to see a Beatle, so I agreed. I was expecting a good show, but not anything great. Turns out, I was 100 per cent wrong.
These days, Paul McCartney is 67 years old. Having lived through personal tragedies and a tumultuous public life, he looks absolutely fantastic and could pass for 40. He would have satisfied his audience if he played a nostalgiac, 90 minute greatest hits show. But that was not Paul's intent on this particular night in Arizona. No, Paul wanted to prove that he is still a rocker, and still vital, and still able to blow an audience away. Boy, did he ever!
He rocked the house for three hours and 40 songs. He played 23 Beatles songs, including the hits you would expect ("Hey Jude", "Yesterday", "Let it Be", "Get Back"), as well as many songs we never expected ("Got to Get You into My Life", "I'm Looking Through You", "Day Tripper", "Paperback Writer", "Lady Madonna", "Two of Us", "I've Got a Feeling"). He played a rollicking version of "Back in the USSR", an absolutely blistering version of "Helter Skelter", and a wonderfully emotional version of "A Day in the Life." That was certainly one I never expected to hear live. He paid tribute to John with a stunning version of "Give Peace a Chance" and George with a magnificent version of "Something."
He played 8 Wings songs, starting the show with "Venus and Mars/Rock Show", followed by "Jet." He played two of my favorite Wings songs, "Let Me Roll It" and "Letting Go." He played an energetic and powerful version of "Live and Let Die", with pyrotechnics which left the audience buzzing. And he played some new songs, which instead of being pop trifles, were actually rocking, bluesy triumphs. His back-up band was outstanding, and Paul was simply dynamic, his amazing vocal gifts as brilliant as ever. He demonstrated his versatility by playing bass, lead guitar, rhythm guitar, ukelele, and piano. He played with a passion and purpose that I thought he had lost many years ago. He played with joy on his face, and he seemed to relish every minute of it. Oh, and did I mention that he rocked the house for three freaking hours? It was absolutely "Springsteenesque".
I have been to well over a hundred rock concerts in my lifetime. I have seen The Who, The Rolling Stones, The Police, U2, Billy Joel, Bob Seger, Elton John, The Kinks, The Grateful Dead, and, of course, The Boss no less than 12 times. Until now, I have always maintained that the first time I saw Springsteen, in 1975, at my college, was the greatest concert I have ever seen. That show rocked my world, and changed me musically forever. I never thought anyone would be able to knock Springsteen off that pedastel.
Until now. Five days later, I am still buzzing about it. Paul McCartney's concert at Jobing.com Arena in Glendale, Arizona, last Sunday night was the greatest concert I have ever seen. Who wouldda thunk it?
Beatlemania was unlike anything that had happened before or since. In February of 1964, like millions of American kids, I sat in my living room with my parents on a Sunday night and watched The Beatles perform on The Ed Sullivan Show. I was mesmerized. I got every album and 45 I could lay my hands on, not to mention plastic Beatle guitars, wigs, and trading cards. When the movie of "A Hard Day's Night" came to my local drive-in that summer, my parents took us to see the movie. I will never forget the cars filled with screaming teenage girls on either side of us. I was six years old, and a hard-core Beatles fan.
As I got older, my musical tastes branched out to embrace other groups, but The Beatles were always number one. I idolized John Lennon, but I truly loved them all. Their music was, and still is, simply incredible. When the band broke up in 1970, I was pretty devestated, but I understood that it was inevitable. I continued to be a fan of their solo work, but I was underwhelmed by Paul's initial output. I was not a great fan of Wings, but they got better as they got along, and by the time they released their seminal live album, "Wings over America," I had grown to appreciate them.
My first live rock concert was, no coincidence, George Harrison in 1974. It probably was not that great, musically, but there he was in the flesh, a real live Beatle. He sang "In My Life" and dedicated it to John, Paul, and Ringo. And he did a great job with "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," although Eric Clapton was not there to assist with the guitar, as he does on the White Album.
I regret that I never got to see John in concert prior to his murder. And I will always remember being angry at Paul's seemingly nonchalant reaction to his former partner's death. Paul has always maintained that he was in shock at the time and was actually devestated by John's murder. I was willing to concede him that, but I was still annoyed by the mediocre pop drivel he was putting out. Songs like "Silly Love Songs", "Say Say Say", and "Ebony and Ivory" were pretty bad, although I have to admit a perverse fondness for "Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey."
I got the opportunity to see Paul in 1990 on a brutally hot summer night in Sun Devil Stadium in Tempe, Arizona. Paul was quite good, his backing band was adequate, and he did do about 7 or 8 Beatle songs. I was satisfied in having seen another Beatle, but I was not, in any way, ovewhelmed.
So, when my wife told me that she wanted to go to the McCartney concert in Glendale this spring, which would launch Paul's latest tour, I was not particularly excited about it. She wanted to take our kids and give them an opportunity to see a Beatle, so I agreed. I was expecting a good show, but not anything great. Turns out, I was 100 per cent wrong.
These days, Paul McCartney is 67 years old. Having lived through personal tragedies and a tumultuous public life, he looks absolutely fantastic and could pass for 40. He would have satisfied his audience if he played a nostalgiac, 90 minute greatest hits show. But that was not Paul's intent on this particular night in Arizona. No, Paul wanted to prove that he is still a rocker, and still vital, and still able to blow an audience away. Boy, did he ever!
He rocked the house for three hours and 40 songs. He played 23 Beatles songs, including the hits you would expect ("Hey Jude", "Yesterday", "Let it Be", "Get Back"), as well as many songs we never expected ("Got to Get You into My Life", "I'm Looking Through You", "Day Tripper", "Paperback Writer", "Lady Madonna", "Two of Us", "I've Got a Feeling"). He played a rollicking version of "Back in the USSR", an absolutely blistering version of "Helter Skelter", and a wonderfully emotional version of "A Day in the Life." That was certainly one I never expected to hear live. He paid tribute to John with a stunning version of "Give Peace a Chance" and George with a magnificent version of "Something."
He played 8 Wings songs, starting the show with "Venus and Mars/Rock Show", followed by "Jet." He played two of my favorite Wings songs, "Let Me Roll It" and "Letting Go." He played an energetic and powerful version of "Live and Let Die", with pyrotechnics which left the audience buzzing. And he played some new songs, which instead of being pop trifles, were actually rocking, bluesy triumphs. His back-up band was outstanding, and Paul was simply dynamic, his amazing vocal gifts as brilliant as ever. He demonstrated his versatility by playing bass, lead guitar, rhythm guitar, ukelele, and piano. He played with a passion and purpose that I thought he had lost many years ago. He played with joy on his face, and he seemed to relish every minute of it. Oh, and did I mention that he rocked the house for three freaking hours? It was absolutely "Springsteenesque".
I have been to well over a hundred rock concerts in my lifetime. I have seen The Who, The Rolling Stones, The Police, U2, Billy Joel, Bob Seger, Elton John, The Kinks, The Grateful Dead, and, of course, The Boss no less than 12 times. Until now, I have always maintained that the first time I saw Springsteen, in 1975, at my college, was the greatest concert I have ever seen. That show rocked my world, and changed me musically forever. I never thought anyone would be able to knock Springsteen off that pedastel.
Until now. Five days later, I am still buzzing about it. Paul McCartney's concert at Jobing.com Arena in Glendale, Arizona, last Sunday night was the greatest concert I have ever seen. Who wouldda thunk it?
Thursday, March 4, 2010
The Desert Island---Part 2
OK, so I'm back on my desert island. I've watched my ten favorite movies, and now I want to listen to some music. The problem is I can only have 10 discs with me. So what do I choose? Well, let me put some self-imposed restrictions on this. I can only have one choice from one performer, no greatest hits or live albums allowed, and only official releases are allowed (not that I own any unofficial releases--but I'm just saying).
Before I divulge my list, let me say a few words about what you won't find. You're not going to find any punk, rap, hip-hop, country or jazz on this list. While I certainly like jazz and some punk, I don't like them enough to have them with me on a desert island. As far as rap and its cousin, hip-hop, while I can appreciate their importance and popularity, I'm just not interested. No, basically what I will take with me will be what is now commonly referred to as "old guy rock." Yeah, you know what I'm talking about.
1. "Revolver" The best and most consistent album by the greatest rock band of all time. Sure, most people would prefer "Sergeant Pepper", "Abbey Road", or the white album, but have you listened to "Revolver" lately? There are no bad songs, George Harrison finally achieved greatness with this album, and the album perfectly captures the band's transition to serious music. Still unconvinced? OK, how about this: "Taxman", "Eleanor Rigby", "For No One", "Got to Get You into my Life", "Tomorrow Never Knows", "I Want to Tell You", "Yellow Submarine", "Here There and Everywhere", "Good Day Sunshine". "She Said She Said, "Love You to", "Dr. Robert." Yeah, nuff said. And, by the way, did I happen to mention the name of the band that created this masterpiece? I thought not. Didn't need to.
2. "Who's Next" It's unfortunate that many people are basing their conception of The Who on their performance at this year's Super Bowl. That's like basing your opinion of Michelangelo on some doodlings he might have done as a child. If you doubt The Who's relevance, just stick this CD in your player and turn it up loud. This album is loaded with rock anthems, like "Baba O'Reilly", "Won't Get Fooled Again", and "Bargain". The performance on the album shows clearly why John Entwhistle and Keith Moon were the greatest rhythm section in rock history, bar none. Roger Daltrey's vocals are tremendous (a far cry from that old-guy imposter at the Super Bowl) and Pete Townshend's writing and guitar playing are worthy of his legendary status. This album is rock perfection.
3. "Born to Run" Big surprise here, right? The Boss's undisputed masterpiece, still incredible after all these years. The title track is probably the most unique single in rock history, but the true greatness of this album lies in songs like "Thunder Road", "Jungleland", "Backstreets", "Night", and "She's the One", wherein Springsteen stakes his claim as the greatest rock poet of our generation.
4. "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" Once upon a time, Elton John was actually a musician and an artist, as hard as that is to believe today. This is his most consistent and greatest album. Side one of the record, with "Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding", "Candle in the Wind" and "Bennie and the Jets" is legendary, but there is so much more to be found here. Lesser-known songs such "All the Young Girls Love Alice", "This Song Has no Title", "Jamaica Jerk-off", "Grey Seal", "The Ballad of Danny Bailey", and "Sweet Painted Lady" are wonderful stories performed with precision and humor. A great album.
5. "Every Picture Tells a Story" Another example of a rocker who has long forgotten how to rock. But oh, back in the day....The title tune is incredible and tells a provocative story. "Maggie May" is one of the all-time classics and "Reason to Believe" is probably the prettiest song Rod Stewart ever sang. Hard to believe Rod the Mod was ever this great, but here is the proof.
6. "It's Only Rock n Roll" My favorite Rolling Stones album, and I am probably in the minority here, but who cares. To me, this is their most consistent and interesting album with Mick Taylor's wonderful guitar playing leaving its imprint all over the album. Check out side one for the title track, "Ain't Too Proud to Beg", "If You Can't Rock Me", "Til the Next Goodbye", and "Time Waits for No One." I think it's their best side on any of their albums. Maybe I can change my rules and take "Let it Bleed", too.
7. "Layla and other assorted love Songs" Derek and the Dominoes' only studio album, featuring Eric Clapton at his best. While the title song might be the greatest rock and roll song ever, the album also includes such classics as "Bell Bottom Blues", "Little Wing", "Tell the Truth" and "Let it Rain." Duane Allman traded guitar licks with Clapton, and the result was rock magic.
8. "Making Movies" I love Dire Straits and this is, by far, their best album. With a little help from Roy Bittan on keyboards, Mark Knopfler and company knock out some great rock and roll ("Tunnel of Love", "Expresso Love", "Solid Rock"), a wonderful ballad ("Romeo and Juliet"), and a little ditty ("Skateaway") that defies description, which nevertheless cooks with some of Knopfler's best guitar work.
9. "Supernatural" Carlos Santana re-invented himself with this amazing collection of songs, which contained some tremendous guest vocalists. "Smooth", "Maria Maria", and "Put Your Light On" have become some of the best and well-known songs of Santana's career, but the album is chock full of great tunes, and amazing guitar playing.
10. "Are You Experienced?"/ "Blonde on Blonde" OK, I cheated. I couldn't pick between these two for my tenth choice, so I'm bringing them both. It's my island, I can make the rules, and I can break them. First, Hendrix. "Are You Experienced?" has so many great songs, it seems like a greatest hits album. "Purple Haze", "Manic Depression", "Hey Joe", "Foxey Lady", "Fire", "The Wind Cries Mary", the title track. How in the world did all these great songs end up on Hendrix's debut album? Superb guitar playing, great lyrics, tremendous performance. What an incredible musical talent that guy was!
Then, there's Dylan. Well, if you have been reading my blog on a regular basis, you know that I'm a little pissed off at Bob Dylan, and he's basically a shell of what he used to be. But "Blonde on Blonde" is an incredible collection of songs which clearly show why Dylan is such a legend. "Rainy Day Women #12 & 35 (or commonly known as "everybody must get stoned")", "I Want You", "One of Us Must Know", "Just Like a Woman", "Stuck Inside of Mobile..." are all great, famous Dylan classics. But I really like the lesser-known songs, such as "Temporary Like Achilles", "Sad-eyed Lady of the Lowlands", and "Absolutely Sweet Marie". I don't think Dylan ever sounded better or had a stronger collection of songs. And then there's what I believe is the album's true masterpiece, "Visions of Johanna", a touching portrayal of a woman which contains Dylan's greatest performance. Listening to that song never fails to move me. A true masterpiece from a musical legend.
Sorry, but I gotta have both of these masterpieces with me on the island.
So, there's my list. Pretty brutal, isn't it? To really survive on that island, I need to bring about 500 albums to suit my needs. Oh well, I'll just have to suffice with my top ten, er, I mean eleven.
Before I divulge my list, let me say a few words about what you won't find. You're not going to find any punk, rap, hip-hop, country or jazz on this list. While I certainly like jazz and some punk, I don't like them enough to have them with me on a desert island. As far as rap and its cousin, hip-hop, while I can appreciate their importance and popularity, I'm just not interested. No, basically what I will take with me will be what is now commonly referred to as "old guy rock." Yeah, you know what I'm talking about.
1. "Revolver" The best and most consistent album by the greatest rock band of all time. Sure, most people would prefer "Sergeant Pepper", "Abbey Road", or the white album, but have you listened to "Revolver" lately? There are no bad songs, George Harrison finally achieved greatness with this album, and the album perfectly captures the band's transition to serious music. Still unconvinced? OK, how about this: "Taxman", "Eleanor Rigby", "For No One", "Got to Get You into my Life", "Tomorrow Never Knows", "I Want to Tell You", "Yellow Submarine", "Here There and Everywhere", "Good Day Sunshine". "She Said She Said, "Love You to", "Dr. Robert." Yeah, nuff said. And, by the way, did I happen to mention the name of the band that created this masterpiece? I thought not. Didn't need to.
2. "Who's Next" It's unfortunate that many people are basing their conception of The Who on their performance at this year's Super Bowl. That's like basing your opinion of Michelangelo on some doodlings he might have done as a child. If you doubt The Who's relevance, just stick this CD in your player and turn it up loud. This album is loaded with rock anthems, like "Baba O'Reilly", "Won't Get Fooled Again", and "Bargain". The performance on the album shows clearly why John Entwhistle and Keith Moon were the greatest rhythm section in rock history, bar none. Roger Daltrey's vocals are tremendous (a far cry from that old-guy imposter at the Super Bowl) and Pete Townshend's writing and guitar playing are worthy of his legendary status. This album is rock perfection.
3. "Born to Run" Big surprise here, right? The Boss's undisputed masterpiece, still incredible after all these years. The title track is probably the most unique single in rock history, but the true greatness of this album lies in songs like "Thunder Road", "Jungleland", "Backstreets", "Night", and "She's the One", wherein Springsteen stakes his claim as the greatest rock poet of our generation.
4. "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" Once upon a time, Elton John was actually a musician and an artist, as hard as that is to believe today. This is his most consistent and greatest album. Side one of the record, with "Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding", "Candle in the Wind" and "Bennie and the Jets" is legendary, but there is so much more to be found here. Lesser-known songs such "All the Young Girls Love Alice", "This Song Has no Title", "Jamaica Jerk-off", "Grey Seal", "The Ballad of Danny Bailey", and "Sweet Painted Lady" are wonderful stories performed with precision and humor. A great album.
5. "Every Picture Tells a Story" Another example of a rocker who has long forgotten how to rock. But oh, back in the day....The title tune is incredible and tells a provocative story. "Maggie May" is one of the all-time classics and "Reason to Believe" is probably the prettiest song Rod Stewart ever sang. Hard to believe Rod the Mod was ever this great, but here is the proof.
6. "It's Only Rock n Roll" My favorite Rolling Stones album, and I am probably in the minority here, but who cares. To me, this is their most consistent and interesting album with Mick Taylor's wonderful guitar playing leaving its imprint all over the album. Check out side one for the title track, "Ain't Too Proud to Beg", "If You Can't Rock Me", "Til the Next Goodbye", and "Time Waits for No One." I think it's their best side on any of their albums. Maybe I can change my rules and take "Let it Bleed", too.
7. "Layla and other assorted love Songs" Derek and the Dominoes' only studio album, featuring Eric Clapton at his best. While the title song might be the greatest rock and roll song ever, the album also includes such classics as "Bell Bottom Blues", "Little Wing", "Tell the Truth" and "Let it Rain." Duane Allman traded guitar licks with Clapton, and the result was rock magic.
8. "Making Movies" I love Dire Straits and this is, by far, their best album. With a little help from Roy Bittan on keyboards, Mark Knopfler and company knock out some great rock and roll ("Tunnel of Love", "Expresso Love", "Solid Rock"), a wonderful ballad ("Romeo and Juliet"), and a little ditty ("Skateaway") that defies description, which nevertheless cooks with some of Knopfler's best guitar work.
9. "Supernatural" Carlos Santana re-invented himself with this amazing collection of songs, which contained some tremendous guest vocalists. "Smooth", "Maria Maria", and "Put Your Light On" have become some of the best and well-known songs of Santana's career, but the album is chock full of great tunes, and amazing guitar playing.
10. "Are You Experienced?"/ "Blonde on Blonde" OK, I cheated. I couldn't pick between these two for my tenth choice, so I'm bringing them both. It's my island, I can make the rules, and I can break them. First, Hendrix. "Are You Experienced?" has so many great songs, it seems like a greatest hits album. "Purple Haze", "Manic Depression", "Hey Joe", "Foxey Lady", "Fire", "The Wind Cries Mary", the title track. How in the world did all these great songs end up on Hendrix's debut album? Superb guitar playing, great lyrics, tremendous performance. What an incredible musical talent that guy was!
Then, there's Dylan. Well, if you have been reading my blog on a regular basis, you know that I'm a little pissed off at Bob Dylan, and he's basically a shell of what he used to be. But "Blonde on Blonde" is an incredible collection of songs which clearly show why Dylan is such a legend. "Rainy Day Women #12 & 35 (or commonly known as "everybody must get stoned")", "I Want You", "One of Us Must Know", "Just Like a Woman", "Stuck Inside of Mobile..." are all great, famous Dylan classics. But I really like the lesser-known songs, such as "Temporary Like Achilles", "Sad-eyed Lady of the Lowlands", and "Absolutely Sweet Marie". I don't think Dylan ever sounded better or had a stronger collection of songs. And then there's what I believe is the album's true masterpiece, "Visions of Johanna", a touching portrayal of a woman which contains Dylan's greatest performance. Listening to that song never fails to move me. A true masterpiece from a musical legend.
Sorry, but I gotta have both of these masterpieces with me on the island.
So, there's my list. Pretty brutal, isn't it? To really survive on that island, I need to bring about 500 albums to suit my needs. Oh well, I'll just have to suffice with my top ten, er, I mean eleven.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Avatar
For the longest time, going to the movies has been an empty experience for me. The combination of ridiculously high prices, small screens, poor quality projection and the sound from the next theater of the multiplex bleeding into my theater have all made going to the movies a chore, instead of a treat. Indeed, for the last seven or eight years, my preference was to stay home and wait for the DVD.
There have been some exceptions, of course. "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy was made to be seen on the big screen. But for the most part, going to a movie theater and paying anywhere from $50-70 for a movie that might suck has not been something I enjoyed.
It wasn't always like that. My love for movies developed at an early age for me, and I became a full-fledged film buff while I was in high school. I'll never forget the wonder and delight I experienced the first time I saw such movies as "Lawrence of Arabia", "Planet of the Apes", and "2001: A Space Odyssey." They weren't just movies, they were experiences. I was taken to a new world, and I was totally removed from my reality and surrendered to the magic of the movies. I never got over that sense of wonder. And that, of course, is what has been missing from my movie-going experience lately.
So, with that cynical approach, I went to go see James Cameron's "Avatar" in IMAX 3D. I really wasn't sure what to expect, I am generally turned off by hype toward anything. And 3D movies, with those stupid glasses you have to wear, never really impressed me. It always seemed like just a gimmick.
Until now. All those expressions I used above, the "magic of the movies", "the sense of wonder" was all there right up on that huge screen. The 3D was tremendous, it didn't detract from the movie but added to its effect. By the time the movie was five minutes old, I forgot I was wearing the glasses. The IMAX screen is so large that you can be swept in if the film is good enough. And the movie itself? It was simply wonderful.
At a length of two hours and forty-five minutes, it is not a minute too long. I never found myself squirming or looking at my watch. I was completly engrossed and totally engulfed by this incredibly entertaining film. Like the original "Star Wars", it is not a "deep" or "important" drama with compelling performances, but an enthralling and exhilarating entertainment. It has a wonderful plot, which pulls you in and touches you to the core. And, unlike many movies, it has a climax which pays off.
But it's the look of the movie which makes it such a cinematic milestone. You are transported to an alien world, the likes of which has never before been rendered so well in a movie. Every shot is rich with detail and wonder. The CGI and other animation effects are seamless. Everything looks so real and believeable. A whole new world is presented, with humanoids and animals that all look so real and believeable. It is all so breathtaking.
It's been a long time since I felt like I got my money's worth at the movies. Finally, with "Avatar" in IMAX 3D, I can honestly say it was worth every penny. Thank you, James Cameron. Nice job.
There have been some exceptions, of course. "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy was made to be seen on the big screen. But for the most part, going to a movie theater and paying anywhere from $50-70 for a movie that might suck has not been something I enjoyed.
It wasn't always like that. My love for movies developed at an early age for me, and I became a full-fledged film buff while I was in high school. I'll never forget the wonder and delight I experienced the first time I saw such movies as "Lawrence of Arabia", "Planet of the Apes", and "2001: A Space Odyssey." They weren't just movies, they were experiences. I was taken to a new world, and I was totally removed from my reality and surrendered to the magic of the movies. I never got over that sense of wonder. And that, of course, is what has been missing from my movie-going experience lately.
So, with that cynical approach, I went to go see James Cameron's "Avatar" in IMAX 3D. I really wasn't sure what to expect, I am generally turned off by hype toward anything. And 3D movies, with those stupid glasses you have to wear, never really impressed me. It always seemed like just a gimmick.
Until now. All those expressions I used above, the "magic of the movies", "the sense of wonder" was all there right up on that huge screen. The 3D was tremendous, it didn't detract from the movie but added to its effect. By the time the movie was five minutes old, I forgot I was wearing the glasses. The IMAX screen is so large that you can be swept in if the film is good enough. And the movie itself? It was simply wonderful.
At a length of two hours and forty-five minutes, it is not a minute too long. I never found myself squirming or looking at my watch. I was completly engrossed and totally engulfed by this incredibly entertaining film. Like the original "Star Wars", it is not a "deep" or "important" drama with compelling performances, but an enthralling and exhilarating entertainment. It has a wonderful plot, which pulls you in and touches you to the core. And, unlike many movies, it has a climax which pays off.
But it's the look of the movie which makes it such a cinematic milestone. You are transported to an alien world, the likes of which has never before been rendered so well in a movie. Every shot is rich with detail and wonder. The CGI and other animation effects are seamless. Everything looks so real and believeable. A whole new world is presented, with humanoids and animals that all look so real and believeable. It is all so breathtaking.
It's been a long time since I felt like I got my money's worth at the movies. Finally, with "Avatar" in IMAX 3D, I can honestly say it was worth every penny. Thank you, James Cameron. Nice job.
Monday, January 25, 2010
The Monday after
So, once again, the Jets will not be going to the Super Bowl. I should be depressed, but I am not. It's hard to get upset at this Jets team, which so thoroughly exceeded expectations, which was so fun to watch and root for, which made us all so proud. We have a good new coach who preaches defense first, a wonderful rookie quarterback who will only get better, a terrific-looking rookie running back, and an absolute stud in the defensive backfield. The future looks bright indeed.
Despite being massive underdogs, the Jets came out with fire and emotion to actually take a second quarter lead, 17-6 yesterday. I don't remember when I've ever seen Peyton Manning sacked on successive offensive plays. But when Manning finally figured out how to attack the defense, and marched down the field in only three plays right before halftime, I knew it was all over. It was just a matter of time before Peyton assumed total control. The difference between this Colts team and those of the past is that this one has an awesome defense, to go along with the great Peyton Manning. I believe that Peyton will go down as the greatest NFL quarterback of all time, if he is not already there. All he really needs is a couple of more rings to cement his legacy. I think he will have number two in a couple of weeks, the Colts should dominate the Saints. I only hope it's a competitive game.
And the Jets? They should be nothing but proud. Nobody picked them to make it to the AFC Championship game. They have nothing to hang their heads about. They just lost to a better team on the road. It happens. Their time will come.
Despite being massive underdogs, the Jets came out with fire and emotion to actually take a second quarter lead, 17-6 yesterday. I don't remember when I've ever seen Peyton Manning sacked on successive offensive plays. But when Manning finally figured out how to attack the defense, and marched down the field in only three plays right before halftime, I knew it was all over. It was just a matter of time before Peyton assumed total control. The difference between this Colts team and those of the past is that this one has an awesome defense, to go along with the great Peyton Manning. I believe that Peyton will go down as the greatest NFL quarterback of all time, if he is not already there. All he really needs is a couple of more rings to cement his legacy. I think he will have number two in a couple of weeks, the Colts should dominate the Saints. I only hope it's a competitive game.
And the Jets? They should be nothing but proud. Nobody picked them to make it to the AFC Championship game. They have nothing to hang their heads about. They just lost to a better team on the road. It happens. Their time will come.
Monday, January 18, 2010
J-E-T-S JETS JETS JETS
I was 10 years old when Broadway Joe Namath made his infamous prediction that his underdog New York Jets were going to beat the heavily-favored Colts in Super Bowl III. Namath was one of my idols, the leader of my favorite football team, and a guy who was just the coolest person on the planet. If you were a kid living on Long Island in 1968, you were a New York Jets fan because of Broadway Joe. And when he made good on his boast, and won the Super Bowl, well, it was just too good to be true.
Yeah, no kidding. Since then, we Jets fans have waited 41 years for the Jets to repeat. They've made it as far as the AFC Conference championship game twice. In 1982, they lost to Miami, after it had rained for two days straight, soaking an uncovered Orange Bowl field, and rendering Richard Todd and his passing attack totally useless. The Dolphins won 14-0. It was crushing.
And then, in 1999, the Jets suddenly found themselves back again, with Vinny Testaverde in the saddle and Bill Parcells as coach. They actually led the Denver Broncos 6-0 at halftime in Denver, when John Elway woke up in the second half and took control, won the game, and ended up winning the Super Bowl.
And that's it. The Jets have only gotten that far twice in 41 years. They've gotten into the playoffs several other times, only to fall short. Most years, they have just sucked. And now, all of a sudden, we have the new Jets, the Jets of Rex Ryan, Mark Sanchez and Darrell Revis. A team with a blistering defense and a tremendous running game. A team so unlike any other Jets team that we fans don't know what to make of it.
A month ago, the Jets were plodding along at 7-7. They needed to win their last two games to make the playoffs, and they were losing to Peyton Manning and the Colts in Indy. That's when the Colts, inexplicably, decided to forego their run at a perfect season and pulled all their regulars, including Manning, at halftime and basically handed the game to the Jets. The Jets then dominated the Bengals in the final game of the season, and surprise, surprise, they made the playoffs. Then, to really confound things, they beat the Bengals again in the Wild Card round, and upset San Diego yesterday to move on to the Conference Championship for only the fourth time in their history. And who will the Jets be playing on Sunday? None other than Peyton Manning and the Colts. You couldn't have scripted it any better.
And if the Jets win on Sunday? I don't even want to get my hopes up. We'll just have to wait and see what happens. In the meantime, I found myself grinning stupidly all day today, and saying in my head "J-E-T-S JETS JETS JETS"!!! Thank you, Indy, for laying down in Game 15. Here's hoping you end up regretting that decision big time!
Yeah, no kidding. Since then, we Jets fans have waited 41 years for the Jets to repeat. They've made it as far as the AFC Conference championship game twice. In 1982, they lost to Miami, after it had rained for two days straight, soaking an uncovered Orange Bowl field, and rendering Richard Todd and his passing attack totally useless. The Dolphins won 14-0. It was crushing.
And then, in 1999, the Jets suddenly found themselves back again, with Vinny Testaverde in the saddle and Bill Parcells as coach. They actually led the Denver Broncos 6-0 at halftime in Denver, when John Elway woke up in the second half and took control, won the game, and ended up winning the Super Bowl.
And that's it. The Jets have only gotten that far twice in 41 years. They've gotten into the playoffs several other times, only to fall short. Most years, they have just sucked. And now, all of a sudden, we have the new Jets, the Jets of Rex Ryan, Mark Sanchez and Darrell Revis. A team with a blistering defense and a tremendous running game. A team so unlike any other Jets team that we fans don't know what to make of it.
A month ago, the Jets were plodding along at 7-7. They needed to win their last two games to make the playoffs, and they were losing to Peyton Manning and the Colts in Indy. That's when the Colts, inexplicably, decided to forego their run at a perfect season and pulled all their regulars, including Manning, at halftime and basically handed the game to the Jets. The Jets then dominated the Bengals in the final game of the season, and surprise, surprise, they made the playoffs. Then, to really confound things, they beat the Bengals again in the Wild Card round, and upset San Diego yesterday to move on to the Conference Championship for only the fourth time in their history. And who will the Jets be playing on Sunday? None other than Peyton Manning and the Colts. You couldn't have scripted it any better.
And if the Jets win on Sunday? I don't even want to get my hopes up. We'll just have to wait and see what happens. In the meantime, I found myself grinning stupidly all day today, and saying in my head "J-E-T-S JETS JETS JETS"!!! Thank you, Indy, for laying down in Game 15. Here's hoping you end up regretting that decision big time!
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