Syntax
A sign it's been a long day: The Examiner headline reads "Bay Area's share of anti-terror funding shrinks" and I'm thinking "Did we ever really have a big problem with psychiartrists who support Al Qaeda?"
A sign it's been a long day: The Examiner headline reads "Bay Area's share of anti-terror funding shrinks" and I'm thinking "Did we ever really have a big problem with psychiartrists who support Al Qaeda?"
Posted at 19:34 2 comments
Whenever I try to put together a playlist for a get together I realize that the majority of my music collection is best listened to on the couch at 2am under low lighting conditions and with an ample supply of snacks. There are historical reasons for this ... college, I believe it's called.
The point is I have a lot less backyard-on-a-sunny-day music. That being said, here are ten tracks that I always think would be best listened to while driving down Highway One in a convertible. Unsurprisingly, this list favors the perfect pop song and is further colored by my own nostalgia of previous sunny day drives:
Posted at 11:45 1 comments
Labels: music
Risky Business, Say Anything and Clockwork Orange. All three contain canonical examples of characters interacting with practical music playback ("Old Time Rock and Roll," "In Your Eyes" and Beethoven's 9th, respectively). It's an awesome device for pulling the audience into the character's headspace.
But what, you ask, are good examples of this effect on television?
Posted at 16:22 3 comments
I pick up the shuttle to work at 24th St. & Mission, right at the entrance to BART. This morning a dude on a crate was belting out Mexican-reggae tracks for the assembled commuters. Self-accompanied by electric organ, all of his songs were based on the same dub riff that he'd occassionally punch up by interspersing a skanky version of Für Elise.
Unfortunately, his vocal stylings were not as creative. The dude sang like a Mexican Tom Waits on subjects as varied as "Love," "Peace" and "San Francisco General Hospital" but all of those in exactly that much depth. His love song started out with pleadings to an erstwhile lover, but degenerated into a chorus of "George Bush! George, George, George, Bush, Bush, Bush! I wanna fight you."
His performance was not much appreciated by the professional drunks who hang out on that corner. And I eventually retreated into my headphones and Weezer's eponymous album as I waited for the tardy bus.
Update:
Posted at 13:08 6 comments