- The Who may be no more (sadly, as even in their old age they would still be better than half of the poseur “rock” groups out there (yeah, I’m lookin’ right at you, Maroon5), but that doesn’t mean Pete Townsend isn't still putting his musical talent to good use. Continuing a gig he started back in 1969, Townsend has written a new rock opera titled The Boy Who Heard Music. Not the most clever, creative title, but if the rock opera is anything like 1969’s tragedy Tommy or 1973’s Quadrophenia, it should be a good show. Somehow this newest project morphed from an Internet novella (huh?), a novella being a short novel of 40,000 words or less. Who writes an Internet novella I don’t know and how it turns into a rock opera I have even less idea of, but the plot centers around a “hallucinatory tale of three teenagers from different ethnic backgrounds as seen through the eyes of an aging rock star.” Umm, OK. Basically it’s how Townsend would view an up-and-coming indie rock trio, I guess. The opera will have a trial run at Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, N.Y. and from there may go on to bigger and better things. Here’s hoping it is successful, because there aren't nearly enough theater performances that don’t put me to sleep in half an hour or less.
- Add being an ingrate to the list of reasons to hate the music of all former American Karaoke contestants. The most “successful” (it’s akin to being the tallest midget or the highest-grossing Pauly Shore movie) former karaoke-er, Kelly Clarkson, continues to throw a diva tantrum despite the fact that she is no diva and that she’s incredibly blessed to have a music career at all. Her hackneyed attempts at music that have erred so egregiously on the side of bubble-gum pop and shown all the lyrical intelligence of Ren and Stimpy on crack have somehow found a marginal fan base among tone-deaf and musically dumb listeners, mostly teenage girls, but that’s not enough for Clarkson. She keeps in b*tching about how her record label is trying to over-manage her and how she’s not being allowed to do things her way. In her most recent whiny comments, she remarks about RCA president Clive Davis, he of the legendary musical status, “We don’t braid each other’s hair. And despite the rumors, he is nowhere near a father figure.” Zing! Whew, you are freaking hilarious, Kelly. That was a major zinger right there, I’m laughing so hard I can barely breathe, I mean………..just kidding. Here’s a word of advice for you from someone who can actually recognize good music and thus knows the garbage you keep putting out is a steaming, stinking pile of monkey crap: K. Clarkson, you need to shut up and be grateful anyone listens to your music at all. Be thankful to anyone who has been dumb enough or ignorant enough to give you the chance to make a record, because after being a part of the most fraudulent, ridiculous karaoke contest/music program in the history of music, the fact that you haven't been banned for life from making any non-Karaoke music is a miracle. Be thankful for what you have and stop whining.
- A sad note from Major League Baseball this week, where the New York Mets released the ageless wonder, Julio Franco. Julio has literally been a major leaguer since before I was born and he’s reinvented himself (and sucked a whole lot less) than Madonna over the years to remain a viable contributor for several teams. His career has taken him to Mexico and Japan, and if not for those diversions he would be well over the 3,000-hit plateau and a certain hall of famer. As is, he’s about 500 hits shy and now without a team after the Mets let him go. I realize he’s only hitting .200 this year, but I still admire a guy who gets up at 3 a.m. to drink a protein shake, works out ten times harder than guys half his age and is so dedicated to healthy eating that last year when the team had a birthday cake for him in the clubhouse, he wouldn’t eat any of it because he abstains from sweets and desserts. Julio has gone from being a skinny shortstop who won a batting title to a ripped, built utility man who continues to set records for being the oldest player in baseball history to accomplish certain feats (home runs, stolen bases, etc.). He’s said he wants to play until he’s 50, and hopefully there is a team out there who will sign him and give him the chance to reach that goal. I’m pulling for you, Julio, keep battling………….
- Toxic and deadly food is all around you, and if you don’t believe me just listen to the following two stories. First, Gerber Foods Co. has recalled all packages of its organic-rice and organic-oatmeal cereals (thus sending waves of panic through the tofu-eating, wheat-grass guzzling health-conscious plastic people of Southern California) because of potential clumping of the food that could cause a choking hazard. Gerber says it has received complaints of choking but no reports of injuries, which raises two main points in my mind. First, what the frak can you put in baby food that would cause it to clump that severely? And secondly - most importantly, perhaps we’ve finally found out what Mama Cass was really eating when she died! This could be the answer to that age-old question, because heaven knows that woman would eat anything she could get her hands on, even if it was organic-oatmeal baby foods. The second story comes to us from Chicago, where some bad humus at the Taste of Chicago outdoor food festival made 378 people seriously ill. The Chicago Health Department has so far confirmed that 32 of the illnesses were caused by salmonella poisoning, proving yet again how hard it is to find good humus in America. Maybe that’s why you see mostly hot dog stands on street corners, because it’s just so difficult to make non-sickness-causing humus. Either that or humus is a disgusting food that most people have the good sense to avoid if at all possible…….
- I can't be the only one looking forward to the most mellow, high hour on television, can I? There’s no way to not be excited about a new E! reality series featuring marijuana-loving rapper Snoop Dogg, a man who might be the only one in the world who can rival Willie Nelson’s insatiable desire for the chronic. The D-O-double-G is set to debut later this year with his series, which the network is trying to bill as “hilarious and heartwarming” but which I am choosing to describe as the closest you’ll ever get to getting a contact high from your TV screen. Seriously, just go ahead and head to Sam’s Club to buy the biggest size container of Doritos and Cheetos they have right now, because Snoop loves his hippie lettuce and there’s no possible way to edit that totally out of a reality show, not if E! wants to have enough actual footage left to fill an hour. In between hits off the bong, the show will follow Snoop as he runs the youth football league he’s organized, manages his music career and chips away at the 800 hours of community service he was given in April after pleading no contest to felony drug and gun charges. I know I normally rip reality TV because it’s fake, phony and unrealistic and it insults the intelligence of anyone with an IQ above 75, but this is one program I’ll make an exception for, assuming that E! doesn’t totally neuter Snoop and only show happy, fuzzy, family-friendly footage and leave out the real part of his life.
- No props to ESPN for it’s once-again-whacked handling of its ESPYs award show. For some bizarre reason, the network continues to have the show on a Wednesday night, tape it and not broadcast it until Sunday night, even though 1) that means anyone with an Internet connection knows the results Wednesday night, and 2) there are exactly zero quality sporting events going on the Wednesday after the Major League Baseball All-Star Game, which is the day the show is held every year. Why not broadcast it live on a night when the rest of the sports world is a barren wilderness of boredom? There’s not a good answer, but then again ESPN is the network that televises poker, spelling bees, auto racing and dog shows and tries to pass them off as actual sports, go you can't expect too much logic and sensical thinking from them.
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