I have been chosen by the students at the school where I work to give the key note address at this year’s induction ceremony for the National Honors Society. I was quite honored. What do you say to these kids? “Congratulations for being smarter than everybody else”? I think I’ve got a good speech written that I will deliver tomorrow night. It is full of sage advice, humorous asides and lots of Thomas Jefferson. I structured the speech around their core principles of scholarship, leadership, community service and character, and then discussed how Jefferson embodied each of those qualities through different actions taken during his presidency, and then how they can apply those lessons to their own lives. I don’t even like Jefferson that much, but he seems to work since he is so malleable a historical figure. As I say in my speech, Jefferson is claimed as a hero to both the Right and the Left, and they are both correct.
Many of my AP students will be inducted, so that will be cool. Which reminds me of my own experiences as an AP U.S. History student at my old high school. Where I teach now, you can get into an AP class if you request it. But back in my day, you had to be recommended by your previous year’s teacher. My 10th grade history teacher refused to recommend me for AP, which really pissed me off. I had to figure out a way to circumvent her. I had to figure out a way to impress the venerable, Nixonesque (in a good way) AP U.S. teacher, J.G. I noticed that he often sat at lunch at a table with another teacher whom I would chat with from time to time, but who I knew wasn’t that bright. That was my opening. I joined them for lunch one day and struck up some debate regarding Vietnam with not-so-bright teacher. J.G. was impressed and asked me if I was signed up for his AP class. The plan worked like clockwork. “No, but I am very interested.” He informed the school office that I would be joining his AP class the next year, regardless of what my 10th grade history teacher thought.
I’m not sure whether I like the old way of needing a recommendation or allowing students in based on their professed interest. I can say that I do have some students in my current AP classes who should probably be in the regular level classes (mostly due to work ethic.) Perhaps if there had been a filter to determine whether they could (or would) really do the work they would have been in a better spot for them. But at the same time, when you have a situation like mine, where a student is self-motivated to push themselves and for whatever reason the person making the decision does not see it, then perhaps they should be given the chance.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
Day 6: A Riff So Massive
I enjoy late night TV on occasion. I'm not talking Letterman or Leno, I mean the shows on the upper reaches of the cable channels. I'm not even that much of a heavy metal fan, but lately, once the wife and baby are asleep, I have found myself flipping over to VH1 Classic (in the 200's somewhere) to That Metal Show. I don't watch it religiously, but I've seen a few episodes lately and find myself enjoying them. Like recently when estranged Kiss guitarist Ace Frehley was on, and his answer to almost every question went something like "I don't know, I think I was too [drunk, blitzed, loaded, trashed] to remember."
It is what you would think. Three dudes sitting on a set that looks like Bill & Ted's basement and a live studio audience where black metal t-shirts and long hair are part of the strictly enforced dress code. They get surprisingly high quality guests (for the metal/hard rock world). One host is a guy named Eddie Trunk who is the resident metal expert, and there is a segment called "stump the Trunk" where audience members ask metal trivia questions and if he can't answer, they get metal-related prizes. He is rather difficult to stump. The other two guys are wisecracking comedian/metalheads who do not take the proceedings nearly as seriously as Trunk does. Other features include pulling out a blackboard and debating/analyzing such issues as: Queen vs. Queensryche (Queen unanimously won that one).
Anyway, last night, one of their guests was Yngwie Malmsteen. Aside from having the greatest metal name ever, this Swedish born metal legend has been the butt of jokes from non-metal fans for years. Long regarded one of the most technically proficient guitarists of all time, he is also the poster child for souless noodling. Wikipedia's description of his technique is as follows: "Malmsteen is known for his technical fluency and neo-classical metal compositions, often incorporating high speed picking with harmonic minor scales, diminished scales and using sweep picked arpeggios...Also, Malmsteen favors the harmonic minor scale, and often uses diminished arpeggios and phrygian scales and draws an influence from Bach and Beethoven."
Personally, I've never listened to a note Yngwie has ever played, so I can't comment. But the criticism usually goes something like this: "I would rather listen to Neil Young's one note solo in 'Cinnamon Girl' over Yngwie Malmsteen any day." The classic example of what my friend over at ANCIANT calls "craft over art." Anyway, having heard the name for decades yet never having laid eyes on the legendary Yngwie, I was intrigued to at least see the guy.
ABOVE: Eddie Trunk (left) questions Yngie Malmsteen (right) on VH1 Classic's That Metal Show
One of my favorite exchanges in any interview anywhere went something like this:
Question: "Have you ever written a riff so massive, so awesome, that even you can't play it?"
Yngwie (dead serious): "Actually (dramatic pause) I have. I was able to get it down, but have never been able to figure it out again in all of its awesomeness."
Also, on why Yngwie usually tours as a solo act with hired hands versus working as a member of a band: Yngwie: "no band has ever been able to contain me." Trunk: "I mean, of course. You're Yngwie Malmsteen."
It is what you would think. Three dudes sitting on a set that looks like Bill & Ted's basement and a live studio audience where black metal t-shirts and long hair are part of the strictly enforced dress code. They get surprisingly high quality guests (for the metal/hard rock world). One host is a guy named Eddie Trunk who is the resident metal expert, and there is a segment called "stump the Trunk" where audience members ask metal trivia questions and if he can't answer, they get metal-related prizes. He is rather difficult to stump. The other two guys are wisecracking comedian/metalheads who do not take the proceedings nearly as seriously as Trunk does. Other features include pulling out a blackboard and debating/analyzing such issues as: Queen vs. Queensryche (Queen unanimously won that one).
Anyway, last night, one of their guests was Yngwie Malmsteen. Aside from having the greatest metal name ever, this Swedish born metal legend has been the butt of jokes from non-metal fans for years. Long regarded one of the most technically proficient guitarists of all time, he is also the poster child for souless noodling. Wikipedia's description of his technique is as follows: "Malmsteen is known for his technical fluency and neo-classical metal compositions, often incorporating high speed picking with harmonic minor scales, diminished scales and using sweep picked arpeggios...Also, Malmsteen favors the harmonic minor scale, and often uses diminished arpeggios and phrygian scales and draws an influence from Bach and Beethoven."
Personally, I've never listened to a note Yngwie has ever played, so I can't comment. But the criticism usually goes something like this: "I would rather listen to Neil Young's one note solo in 'Cinnamon Girl' over Yngwie Malmsteen any day." The classic example of what my friend over at ANCIANT calls "craft over art." Anyway, having heard the name for decades yet never having laid eyes on the legendary Yngwie, I was intrigued to at least see the guy.
ABOVE: Eddie Trunk (left) questions Yngie Malmsteen (right) on VH1 Classic's That Metal Show
One of my favorite exchanges in any interview anywhere went something like this:
Question: "Have you ever written a riff so massive, so awesome, that even you can't play it?"
Yngwie (dead serious): "Actually (dramatic pause) I have. I was able to get it down, but have never been able to figure it out again in all of its awesomeness."
Also, on why Yngwie usually tours as a solo act with hired hands versus working as a member of a band: Yngwie: "no band has ever been able to contain me." Trunk: "I mean, of course. You're Yngwie Malmsteen."
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Day 5: Yes, The Croup Still Exists
Going to have to keep today's post a bit short. Evidently my daughter has the Croup. The Croup is an upper respiratory viral infection of some kind that features a harsh cough that sounds somewhat like a seal. Also, her formerly sweet, high, sonorous voice now sounds like Tom Waits. If you don't know what Tom Waits sounds like, this is my daughter's voice today...
I called my mother, and she said "that's an old-timey sickness." My wife's mother asked, "people still get The Croup?" Evidently so. At least she has style and goes for one of the classics.
I called my mother, and she said "that's an old-timey sickness." My wife's mother asked, "people still get The Croup?" Evidently so. At least she has style and goes for one of the classics.
Day 4: RIP Sidney Lumet, 1924-2011
NOTE: I came in a couple hours late, but this is Saturday's post.
Sidney Lumet was one of the great ones. It is hard to find a director who directed landmark films for multiple decades. It is also hard to find a director so beloved by the actors who worked for him. If you read the accolades heaped upon Lumet, you often hear the phrase "an actor's director." Actors such as Al Pacino, Christopher Reeve, Henry Fonda and Paul Newman have all stated at different times that Lumet was able to get their best performances. Lumet was also notable for not being difficult to work with, and as a chonicler of New York life. He usually worked out of New York instead of Hollywood, although he was much beloved by the Hollywood brass because he usually made his pictures quickly, efficiently and under budget.
Lumet was active as a director for five decades, starting in 1957. When your debut picture is 12 Angry Men, where do you go from there? As I was looking over his filmography of 45 films, I was struck by the eclectic nature of the subjects and stories he chose to tell. A list of the more notable ones: 12 Angry Men, Long Day's Journey Into Night, Fail-Safe, Serpico, Murder on the Orient Express, Dog Day Afternoon, Network, The Wiz, Deathtap, The Verdict...
ABOVE: Sidney Lumet's auspicious debut was 12 Angry Men, starring Peter Fonda
Lumet liked to rehearse, and he believed that if done correctly, you could still maintain a spontaneous performance even with many rehearsals. I believe that his work bears this out. Just look at the clausterphobic atmosphere and inense performances he gets out of his actors in 12 Angry Men.
I remember watching the documentary about actor John Cazale, I Knew It Was You, and I was struck by Al Pacino's interview as he talked about how much Lumet listened to and collaborated with his actors. It was not a weakness at all, but he would allow Pacino and Cazale to try out multiple things within each scene to see what would work. (The classic exchange: "what country do you want to go to?" "Wyoming," was improvised on the set). He gave his actors great freedom, yet always had a firm hand on his films. Lumet did not want to cast Cazale in that immortal role of Sal in DDA, but Pacino persisted, and Lumet respected his actors enough to allow Cazale to audition, even though Lumet had initially envisioned the character of Sal going in a very different direction.
ABOVE: John Cazale and Al Pacino in Dog Day Afternoon, my favorite Lumet picture
RIP Sidney Lumet.
Sidney Lumet was one of the great ones. It is hard to find a director who directed landmark films for multiple decades. It is also hard to find a director so beloved by the actors who worked for him. If you read the accolades heaped upon Lumet, you often hear the phrase "an actor's director." Actors such as Al Pacino, Christopher Reeve, Henry Fonda and Paul Newman have all stated at different times that Lumet was able to get their best performances. Lumet was also notable for not being difficult to work with, and as a chonicler of New York life. He usually worked out of New York instead of Hollywood, although he was much beloved by the Hollywood brass because he usually made his pictures quickly, efficiently and under budget.
Lumet was active as a director for five decades, starting in 1957. When your debut picture is 12 Angry Men, where do you go from there? As I was looking over his filmography of 45 films, I was struck by the eclectic nature of the subjects and stories he chose to tell. A list of the more notable ones: 12 Angry Men, Long Day's Journey Into Night, Fail-Safe, Serpico, Murder on the Orient Express, Dog Day Afternoon, Network, The Wiz, Deathtap, The Verdict...
ABOVE: Sidney Lumet's auspicious debut was 12 Angry Men, starring Peter Fonda
Lumet liked to rehearse, and he believed that if done correctly, you could still maintain a spontaneous performance even with many rehearsals. I believe that his work bears this out. Just look at the clausterphobic atmosphere and inense performances he gets out of his actors in 12 Angry Men.
I remember watching the documentary about actor John Cazale, I Knew It Was You, and I was struck by Al Pacino's interview as he talked about how much Lumet listened to and collaborated with his actors. It was not a weakness at all, but he would allow Pacino and Cazale to try out multiple things within each scene to see what would work. (The classic exchange: "what country do you want to go to?" "Wyoming," was improvised on the set). He gave his actors great freedom, yet always had a firm hand on his films. Lumet did not want to cast Cazale in that immortal role of Sal in DDA, but Pacino persisted, and Lumet respected his actors enough to allow Cazale to audition, even though Lumet had initially envisioned the character of Sal going in a very different direction.
ABOVE: John Cazale and Al Pacino in Dog Day Afternoon, my favorite Lumet picture
RIP Sidney Lumet.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Day 3: A Real American Hero
On an evening when the clowns who run our federal government came an hour and a half away from shutting down the government, I would like to talk about a real American hero. His name was Ham. When teaching about the space race in the 50's and 60's, my students are always fascinated by Ham the Chimp. Ham was the first American in space. Here is Ham...
Originally named Chop Chop Chang, the rechristened Ham beat out 39 other chimp candidates. Ham was trained to push buttons and flip levers in his capsule. When he flipped the wrong switch, he would get a little shock in his foot. When he flipped the correct one, a banana pellet would drop for Ham to enjoy. On January 31, 1961, Ham became the first American to break his earthly bonds and he was in space for approximately 15 minutes. There was a malfunction in the capsule, however, and among other things that went wrong, Ham recieved electric foot shocks even as he was flipping the correct levers and pushing the correct buttons. What the f*ck is this? (I am just speculating on what Ham was thinking). He returned to earth mildly agitated but unharmed. Almost ten months later Enos the chimp was the first American to orbit the earth.
I discuss rocketry, the Mercury and Apollo programs, U.S.-Soviet geopolitics surrounding the space race...but my students are always most interested in Ham. I think that Neil Armstrong is the only astronaut they ever learn about. I start our discussion out something like this: "Who was the first earthling in space?" "Neil Armstrong." "No, Laika the Russian dog." "Who was the first American in space?" "Neil Armstrong." "No, Ham the Chimp." "Who was the first human in space?" "Neil Armstrong." "No, Yuri Gargarin." "Who was the first free man (or American) in space?" "Neil Armstrong." "No, Alan Sheppard."
Oh, about Laika the dog...
The Soviets picked up Laika as a stray on the streets of Moscow. Her original name was Kudryavka ("Little Curly"), but was soon rechristened Laika (or "Muttnik" by the American press). Laika made her legendary voyage in 1957 aboard Sputnik II. Alas the Soviets, being coldhearted commie bastards, did not intend for Laika to return alive. At the time they announced to the world that Laika lived for several days before succumbing to overheating. But a report in 2002 revealed that she actually died within five hours of launch from fright and stress. My discussion of Laika's fate elicits more sadness and emotion from my students than discussions of the Holocaust, Vietnam or the Civil War.
So even though the Soviets were first, we at least brought Ham back alive.
ABOVE: Ham's gravesite at the International Space Hall of Fame.
Originally named Chop Chop Chang, the rechristened Ham beat out 39 other chimp candidates. Ham was trained to push buttons and flip levers in his capsule. When he flipped the wrong switch, he would get a little shock in his foot. When he flipped the correct one, a banana pellet would drop for Ham to enjoy. On January 31, 1961, Ham became the first American to break his earthly bonds and he was in space for approximately 15 minutes. There was a malfunction in the capsule, however, and among other things that went wrong, Ham recieved electric foot shocks even as he was flipping the correct levers and pushing the correct buttons. What the f*ck is this? (I am just speculating on what Ham was thinking). He returned to earth mildly agitated but unharmed. Almost ten months later Enos the chimp was the first American to orbit the earth.
I discuss rocketry, the Mercury and Apollo programs, U.S.-Soviet geopolitics surrounding the space race...but my students are always most interested in Ham. I think that Neil Armstrong is the only astronaut they ever learn about. I start our discussion out something like this: "Who was the first earthling in space?" "Neil Armstrong." "No, Laika the Russian dog." "Who was the first American in space?" "Neil Armstrong." "No, Ham the Chimp." "Who was the first human in space?" "Neil Armstrong." "No, Yuri Gargarin." "Who was the first free man (or American) in space?" "Neil Armstrong." "No, Alan Sheppard."
Oh, about Laika the dog...
The Soviets picked up Laika as a stray on the streets of Moscow. Her original name was Kudryavka ("Little Curly"), but was soon rechristened Laika (or "Muttnik" by the American press). Laika made her legendary voyage in 1957 aboard Sputnik II. Alas the Soviets, being coldhearted commie bastards, did not intend for Laika to return alive. At the time they announced to the world that Laika lived for several days before succumbing to overheating. But a report in 2002 revealed that she actually died within five hours of launch from fright and stress. My discussion of Laika's fate elicits more sadness and emotion from my students than discussions of the Holocaust, Vietnam or the Civil War.
So even though the Soviets were first, we at least brought Ham back alive.
ABOVE: Ham's gravesite at the International Space Hall of Fame.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Day 2: Radiohead and Robbie
NOTE: It says Wednesday, but I posted this Thursday morning, I promise. A couple of new releases (or fairly new, in one case) have pleasantly surprised me.
The first is Radiohead's latest, The King of Limbs (pictured above). It is in the vein of Kid A and Amnesiac, but there is something a little more interesting and less forced about this one. The bleeps and blips are still there, as is the cold ambient soundscape, but it is also a bit busier, musically, which I like. I still have no idea what Thom Yorke is singing (I view his vocals as just another instrument). In the opener "Bloom," underneath the bleeps is a jazzy bass line that really grooves. There are several interesting layers of sound here. "Morning Mr. Magpie" features some guitar patterns that remind me of some of the Afro-pop of Paul Simon's Graceland (just the guitar playing). Radiohead seems to have expanded their sonic palates a bit, and that is good if they want to stay interesting.
The other one is Robbie Robertson's latest, How To Become Clairvoyant (pictured above). From the iTunes samples, I was not very impressed. Robbie hadn't made a record in ten years, and the samples sounded a bit bland. This is one of the cases where the samples do not do the actual songs justice. One of the things that I have admired about Robbie's solo career (this is his 5th solo record) is that, musically speaking, he made a complete break from The Band. He purposely steers clear of the acoustically-based, organic, pioneering Americana that The Band perfected. His solo records are sonically dense, slick, very produced, and I respect that. He bathes his music in layers of synthesizers, samples, electronic beats...all things that would have been anathema to The Band's ethic.
He is off his Native American obsession that dominated his previous two records, and is back to vague tales of American myth, backroads and forgotten bluesmen. His weakness has always been his lyrics, and they are still a bit forced and hackneyed here, but I really dig the acquired taste of his smoke-ravaged vocals (there is a reason that even though he wrote the bulk of The Band's material, he was not one of their three lead singers). Like his other records, it is not solid from start to finish, but there is much to enjoy and cherry pick. "Straight Down the Line" is a groovy opener, the moody title track is great and features the best lyrics on the album, and instrumental closer "Tango For Django" is both graceful and surprising. "She's Not Mine" is the only true stunner here, but I enjoy the overall mood he creates (his music is always big on consistent mood), and it compares favorably to his underrated sophomore effort, Storyville. It is good despite Eric Clapton's heavy involvement in co-writing and playing on it. It is a record that will reward repeated listens.
Anyway, both are records that I had modest hopes for, and have come to really enjoy them in recent days.
Radiohead's The King of Limbs, ***1/2 out of *****
Robbie Robertson's How To Become Clairvoyant, *** out of *****
The first is Radiohead's latest, The King of Limbs (pictured above). It is in the vein of Kid A and Amnesiac, but there is something a little more interesting and less forced about this one. The bleeps and blips are still there, as is the cold ambient soundscape, but it is also a bit busier, musically, which I like. I still have no idea what Thom Yorke is singing (I view his vocals as just another instrument). In the opener "Bloom," underneath the bleeps is a jazzy bass line that really grooves. There are several interesting layers of sound here. "Morning Mr. Magpie" features some guitar patterns that remind me of some of the Afro-pop of Paul Simon's Graceland (just the guitar playing). Radiohead seems to have expanded their sonic palates a bit, and that is good if they want to stay interesting.
The other one is Robbie Robertson's latest, How To Become Clairvoyant (pictured above). From the iTunes samples, I was not very impressed. Robbie hadn't made a record in ten years, and the samples sounded a bit bland. This is one of the cases where the samples do not do the actual songs justice. One of the things that I have admired about Robbie's solo career (this is his 5th solo record) is that, musically speaking, he made a complete break from The Band. He purposely steers clear of the acoustically-based, organic, pioneering Americana that The Band perfected. His solo records are sonically dense, slick, very produced, and I respect that. He bathes his music in layers of synthesizers, samples, electronic beats...all things that would have been anathema to The Band's ethic.
He is off his Native American obsession that dominated his previous two records, and is back to vague tales of American myth, backroads and forgotten bluesmen. His weakness has always been his lyrics, and they are still a bit forced and hackneyed here, but I really dig the acquired taste of his smoke-ravaged vocals (there is a reason that even though he wrote the bulk of The Band's material, he was not one of their three lead singers). Like his other records, it is not solid from start to finish, but there is much to enjoy and cherry pick. "Straight Down the Line" is a groovy opener, the moody title track is great and features the best lyrics on the album, and instrumental closer "Tango For Django" is both graceful and surprising. "She's Not Mine" is the only true stunner here, but I enjoy the overall mood he creates (his music is always big on consistent mood), and it compares favorably to his underrated sophomore effort, Storyville. It is good despite Eric Clapton's heavy involvement in co-writing and playing on it. It is a record that will reward repeated listens.
Anyway, both are records that I had modest hopes for, and have come to really enjoy them in recent days.
Radiohead's The King of Limbs, ***1/2 out of *****
Robbie Robertson's How To Become Clairvoyant, *** out of *****
Day 1: I Only Read What Is Real
Hello? Is this thing still on? tap tap tap. Sorry for the lack of posts recently, my excuses are rather pedestrian, but they are real. I have been inspired and challenged by my good friend ANCIANT over at his blog here, where he promised and delivered on 30 posts in 30 days. I now vow to do the same. Some may be long, some may be short. So, here goes.
Today I realized that it has been over a decade since I have read a book of fiction. I read quite a bit, but everything is nonfiction. I don't dislike fiction, but I guess I get my fiction fix through movies. I would like to read more fiction, but that whole time factor gets in the way. I bought a book called The 100 Most Important Books In the World, where it summarizes each book in about 4-5 pages. Maybe I can get caught up that way. I want to be well read, I just can't sit down and read all of these books. Dammit.
I just finished a project that I started last summer. I have been summarizing/outlining the rather huge AP U.S. History textbook from which I teach. Today I completed the last chapter. Now I have a huge binder with awesome lecture summaries from this book. But the binder appears to be about as thick as the textbook. Hmm. It is that time of year when AP students realize that the AP Exams are coming up in about three weeks and that they better start paying attention. I have been enjoying their panic. At least they will really know about the Nixon administration. If only they had been this focused from the Colonial days through Vietnam.
Crap. The baby just woke up from her nap. I need to take her for a walk now in her stroller. She LOVES that stroller. There is a huge hill in our neighborhood, and I run full speed pushing her down the hill in her stroller, and she throws both arms in the air like she is on a roller coaster and squeals with delight. It is absurdly cute.
More tomorrow.
Today I realized that it has been over a decade since I have read a book of fiction. I read quite a bit, but everything is nonfiction. I don't dislike fiction, but I guess I get my fiction fix through movies. I would like to read more fiction, but that whole time factor gets in the way. I bought a book called The 100 Most Important Books In the World, where it summarizes each book in about 4-5 pages. Maybe I can get caught up that way. I want to be well read, I just can't sit down and read all of these books. Dammit.
I just finished a project that I started last summer. I have been summarizing/outlining the rather huge AP U.S. History textbook from which I teach. Today I completed the last chapter. Now I have a huge binder with awesome lecture summaries from this book. But the binder appears to be about as thick as the textbook. Hmm. It is that time of year when AP students realize that the AP Exams are coming up in about three weeks and that they better start paying attention. I have been enjoying their panic. At least they will really know about the Nixon administration. If only they had been this focused from the Colonial days through Vietnam.
Crap. The baby just woke up from her nap. I need to take her for a walk now in her stroller. She LOVES that stroller. There is a huge hill in our neighborhood, and I run full speed pushing her down the hill in her stroller, and she throws both arms in the air like she is on a roller coaster and squeals with delight. It is absurdly cute.
More tomorrow.
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