Daniel Defoe once said, “The soul is placed in the body like a rough diamond, and must be polished, or the luster of it will never appear.” With over 7 billion people on this planet, I wish more of us knew how to bring out that shine. The ones who go about it best can somehow recognize it in themselves strongly enough to bring it out in the people who have forgotten how.
Music is a great example of how that connection can be made on a larger canvas. From Woody Guthrie’s “This Land Is Your Land” to John Lennon’s “Imagine”, to N.W.A.’s “Fuck tha Police”, a handful of musical artists have been able to leave us with songs for the generation, that become kind of like anthems. They don’t come around often, but when they do, they’re contagious… and they bring out the soul in all of us.
Last year, I started working with a guy named Jay. In the beginning, he did his thing and I did mine. Then we started to talk more, at first about basketball, and later about anything worth a damn. Any time he read something shameful in the news or had something fresh on his mind, he’d start a dialogue about it. I’ll admit, impromptu vent sessions are my Achilles heel (mostly because I’ve always got to get a word in). Soon I found that not only was Jay schooled in world history, but he had a real passion for humanity, an attribute I immediately respect. On top of that, I could easily relate to his politics because it was clear where was coming from. In the time we worked together, we avoided hours of rush hour traffic with after-work diatribes on everything from crime and education, to conflicts in the Middle East, to basic human survival. “Uh, like… what do you mean? Like some deep shit?” — Exactly.
Then one day, Jay revealed he was a hip-hop artist, and that he had just released his first single called “Diamonds”. When he showed me his video online, it was clear he wasn’t just a guy talking about issues, he was someone taking the time to do something about it.
He performs under the name Black Exodus and his music has been getting some attention. Anyone who knows me can tell you that I don’t listen to a lot of hip-hop… but what I do connect with are those hard-hitting tracks that cut past the commercial formula and aim straight for the mind. Black Exodus falls right into that sweet spot. Below is his music video for “Diamonds” that so far has found thousands of hits, featuring (and directed by) Hassan Haze.
A few days back I was taking a walk with a friend of mine. We decided to stop for an impromptu musical interlude. I started to film as he played with open city accompaniment. The emergence of the public piano is satisfyingly random. Enjoy:
4/30/2012 | UPDATE
Looks like this is just one of thirty different pianos you can find on the streets of L.A. It’s part of a project called “Play Me, I’m Yours” that is going on worldwide. Click the picture below to see more video and info about this growing phenomenon:
Relationships are tough. Breakups are tougher. But none of that matters if you’re as tough as Burt Reynolds. Right? At least that’s what I thought, until I watched Starting Over. This film proved that somehow, beneath that mustache of steel lies a fragile, unadventurous man. In the case of this story, he’s an emotionally challenged divorcee, named Phil Potter. Wait… hold it! Are we talking about Gator McKlusky? Get real, son. The Bandit? Burt Reynolds can’t play some dude named Phil Potter. Are you serious?
Uh, well… yes. Let me assure you, it’s real. And surprisingly, Reynolds finds his own way to take this role as far as he can, or in his case, the longest yard. And all initial chuckles aside, it worked. The film is directed by Alan J. Pakula, best known for his potent political thrillers (All The President’s Men, Parallax View). Not like anything you would expect from him either, but there’s nothing I respect more than a director who attempts to tackle all genres. The screenplay was penned by James L. Brooks (The Simpsons, As Good As It Gets) just a few years before he found his own directing chops. The mix of talent is definitely unique here. Reynolds himself says that to this day, this is the best piece he’s had the opportunity of working on.
Overall, Starting Over does a very solid job of portraying the confusing fragments of time between marriage and divorce. The story is touching, the dialogue hits the mark, and the scenarios are memorable. There’s a lot of humor mixed into the drama which lightens the tone in great ways. Those come through very nicely in the scenes with Reynolds at his divorced men’s group meetings (featuring wonderful cameos) and in stranger, more demanding ways, such as in the sequences with Reynolds’ ex-wife, played with a sense of fabulous oblivion by Candice Bergen (see end of post).
Yet as much as you stretch the mustache, the strongest part of the film lies with Jill Clayburgh, who plays the woman Reynolds meets after he splits from his wife. Clayburgh’s character, also haunted by a broken relationship, is one she plays with incredible sensitivity. Coincidentally, this role was very reminiscent to one she played in Paul Mazursky’s An Unmarried Woman, made just prior to Starting Over.
On a nerd appreciation level, it would be fascinating to take those two films and cut them together as one, just based on the consistency in Clayburgh’s performances and the striking similarities between the stories. Even if that experiment proved to be an aesthetic mess, both films do allow you to see Clayburgh at the peak of her talent. Often compared to (or mistaken for) Diane Keaton, the raw, emotional depth she once brought to the screen was truly special, and dare I say, may top Keaton’s best work.
All that said, Starting Over is a film worth seeking out, for a number of reasons. One is that it’s much better than Semi-Tough, and the other is simply that you’re not going to see anything like this again. Especially not one where you can watch a musical Murphy Brown elicit this whiter than lightning reaction.
A few minutes ago, I went looking for a swift kick in the creative ass, something to get me into work mode. I reached into my bookmark archives and found one. It worked like a champ and before it wears off, I feel compelled to share it with you like world peace.
This cinematic collage has earned itself quite a few views online and for good reason. I have no idea what it is. All I know is that it’s a stimulation of visual ideas cut brilliantly to the song “Bombay” by El Guincho. Words cannot explain this, it just speaks for itself:
Hello faithful readers, after some time away, I deliver unto you my first post of the year. January has put me on a bit of a blogging hiatus, as I’ve been taking the time to read a bit more than I’ve been writing. Over the weekend, I finished Thomas Hardy’s “Far from the Madding Crowd”. As many classic pieces written in the 1890s, it holds so much the same frenzies of love and tragedy we experience today. Hardy’s was especially potent. Here’s a short excerpt I just had to write down:
There are accents in the eye which are not on the tongue, and more tales come from pale lips than can enter an ear. It is both the grandeur and the pain of the remoter moods that they avoid the pathway of sound.
Once I hit the end of the book, I felt so satisfied. I watched the back cover fall gently over the last page, as I imagine it has done so many times before… like an old habit. As the world of physical goes digital, I’m always trying to justify why I still prefer paper over screen. Some of my preference is of course based on habit, and naturally, with a novel this old, it feels appropriate to read it in the form it was created in. My book may not have been stamped in Southwest England or written with the King’s quill, but the torn, brown pages add a special aged quality all the same.
Actually, my copy of “Far from the Madding Crowd” has come a long way. It has traveled through readers’ eyes and hands for 30+ years, until I finally discovered it at a college book sale (for 75 cents). And then, years continued to pass as it shifted through my multiple bookshelves and apartments, surviving damp windowsills and harsh light exposure. Then, finally in 2011, I take the time to give the novel it’s proper due. I couldn’t trace the book back to the birth of Thomas Hardy’s mustache, but hey, close enough.
All I know is that as I watched the cover slowly settle over the final weathered page, it dawned on me that maybe it’s more than the book’s winding path that makes the non-digital feeling so pleasant. It’s also worth noting that a book is in essence, a living thing. It was made from what was originally a tree, the very organism that produces nearly one third of the oxygen in our atmosphere. Combine that with the satisfaction of Thomas Hardy’s writing talents, and it holds some special value.
Yes… value. So important but quite difficult to explain. When it’s there in your hands, it seems easier to break down, but maybe that’s just me. There’s true digital value in our lives now too, there’s no denying that. Or else why would I have created this post on my computer? All I can say is, as you read this post on your preferred screen, think about it, and preserve whatever it is that matters most to you.
