Random Thoughts from a Nonlinear Mind: Volume 2: The Athena Chapters,
Chapter Three:
Siskel & Ebert and Top 10 Lists about This & That and Such & Such: A Short Essay with a Relatively Long Title about a few of my Favorite Things
In their Best of 1985 show, Gene Siskel & Roger Ebert rated the top 10 movies of the year just as they did every year from 1982 to 1999. Their show was popular mainly due to their complicated relationship; I got the impression they simultaneously needed, loved, and loathed each other; there certainly was always a lot of tension between them. I watched because I knew even though it was unlikely to happen, there was a chance a brawl could break out over a subtitled Danish film featuring partial frontal nudity that no one in the viewing audience was ever likely to see.
The most interesting, and most important, movie of 1985 was Shoah, and I must say that this essay has nothing to do with the actual film or its content. I would never feel qualified or comfortable writing about something as serious as The Holocaust. This essay is about Ebert’s reaction to the film and why he didn’t include it in his top 10 movies of the year.
Siskel had Shoah as his number one movie of 1985, while Ebert left it off his list entirely. I remember Siskel being indignant as Ebert told him why he left it off. Ebert said that Shoah was, in many respects, the sole reason for film to exist. Shoah transcended any other movie, it went beyond the medium itself, and consequently, it belonged in another category entirely. I remember thinking that was very cool, the idea that a movie could be so important and poignant that it shouldn’t, or couldn’t, be categorized as a simple movie at all; a movie so powerful that you can not possibly do it justice by comparing it to other mortal efforts; a movie that produced such a profound and visceral response, that coaxed such deep emotion, that language itself becomes insufficient to describe it.
Some 26 years later, here I am in Ohio, writing an essay partly inspired by a movie I have never seen. That does not surprise me one bit, when considered in the general context of what the last few months have been like, that is the most normal thing that has happened to me.
For reasons that will become clear by the end of this essay, I have been thinking about some of my favorite things, especially musical things. This line of thought is what made this Siskel & Ebert story flash into my mind while I was running.
Lately, wherever I go, I have been asking people; usually the servers in the restaurants I eat at, to list their top 5 or 10 favorite songs, bands, or CDs. It is interesting how hard this is for most people. The young ladies who say they are big music fans hem and haw and struggle to come up with anything at all. For me, that is when the fun begins. I tell them they are poseurs, and then they really get agitated. “I am not a poseur!” “Well then, tell me your favorite band. How about a song? Give me one in the top 10. Give me one in the top 500. Tell me the name of any song you like.” “Geez Ryan-Tyler, eat your food, and I’ll think about it.“ “I’m not hungry anymore; I’ll just sit here with my arms crossed and wait until you can name a single song that you don’t think sucks.“ It is a lot of fun; a good time is had by all.
My buddy Olive, one of my oldest “fiends” (see Postscript), has so far been the only person who has been able to answer any of these questions. He came up with Dark Side of the Moon for his album. He stumbled on the others, and that is fine because, so far, his response is the only answer anyone has been able to give me.
As for me, I love Arctic Monkeys, the British band. Their first two CDs were killer. I sometimes tell women I meet that I am Brian from Brianstorm, but their vacant stares lead me to believe they have no idea who Arctic Monkeys are. I don’t even want to think about the other possible reasons for those looks. Inspired by another of their songs, I also have been known to tell a woman or two that “I bet you look good on the dance floor.” Same response, nothing. Part of the problem is that I have never said that in a place that actually has a dance floor. Maybe, just like Elan Sleazebaggano, the guy in Star Wars that wanted to sell Obi-Wan death-sticks, I need to go home and rethink my life. Certainly, at the very least, I need a new plan of attack. Looking back, I have no idea what made me think strangers were going to fall for that.
I was supremely disappointed with the third CD, Humbug. I felt that Alex Turner, the creative force behind the band, was trying to morph himself into the second coming of Jim Morrison. There is nothing wrong with that; I understand fully that any artist must follow their muse; my problem was that I wanted the first Alex Turner, not another Jim Morrison.
The fourth CD, Suck it and See, was released recently. I am usually a guy that buys a new CD on the day it comes out, but I did not do that this time. I waited for a few weeks. Why? Honestly, I was not ready to be disappointed again. I don’t know why I wrote that, that is not an honest statement at all; I was distracted, I completely forgot that my favorite band had a CD coming out and anyone who has read the last two chapters knows precisely why. My failing memory aside, I can say with complete honesty that I wanted a return to the faster pace of the first two efforts, and the few reviews I read indicated that that was not what I was going to get. The reviewers were right, but what I got instead was a brilliant set of slower paced music that blows me away. I really like this CD, and I mean a lot.
There is one particular song on Suck it and See that immediately took my breath away. A few times in my life, I have come across things I wish I had written. The first time this happened was when I watched Slumdog Millionaire. Halfway through, I said to myself, “damn, I wish I had written this.” The second time it happened, I was watching the HBO adaptation of The Sunset Limited. The writing is transcendent, Cormac McCarthy is a true master of his craft. That not only is something I wish I had written, The Sunset Limited is something I should have written.
That strange feeling of missing out on something important has only happened one other time, and now I am talking about a song. I am not a songwriter, but when I heard Reckless Serenade, the eighth track on Suck It And See, it made me pause. It instantly reminded me of someone (I know, I know, what a shocking development). Rumor has it she is from Athens even though I am starting to suspect she comes from one of those elusive dimensions the string theory people are always referencing. At this point, DNA tests and a certified birth certificate might be the only things that can convince me otherwise.
If I were a songwriter, and if I were much more talented than I think I am, I would have written Reckless Serenade instead of Chapter 1. It only confirms what I have long believed, namely that Alex Turner is the most gifted lyricist working in modern music.
I find that these categories of favorite things are very fluid when it comes to me personally. As I write this, I can say that Arctic Monkeys get the nod for the band, and that has been true for years now. I am leaning toward Reckless Serenade for favorite song. This is a very recent development; I first heard it a little over a month ago. I am willing to put it there even though I am still in the infatuation stage. As for CD, I still have to go with Steely Dan’s Aja.
These lists of favorites have been coming to mind lately because I have been running again. When I was in my 20’s, I ran six marathons. I have a picture somewhere of me in second place at the 17-mile mark of a relatively large marathon. The only reason I mention that is because if I had more sense, I might have been able to stay there. I ended up finishing 19th because of the cramp I caught shortly after the picture was taken. The cramp had nothing to do with the six donuts I had eaten before the race; it had more to do with the additional six donuts I used to wash down the first six. Not one of my more brilliant moves, and I still hear about it occasionally from my brother Terry. “A dozen donuts, really…before a marathon, really? What were you thinking? That is the dumbest damn thing I have ever heard.” I do not think I would have won the race, but I would have had a good chance to finish second. Not that any of that matters now. I do remember enjoying those donuts.
The fact that I am now able to run is, to me, a fantastic thing. I have tried for years and years to get back out there, but my knees kept saying no. When my doctor told me a few years ago that I needed a left knee replacement and that the right knee was in worse shape than the left one I pretty much thought it was over for me. Recently, for reasons I do not understand, my knees are not barking, and I am up every morning, putting in the miles. Consequently, I have been thinking hard about what music to load up for the runs. I have been cataloging my favorite bands and songs and thinking about the order I want to hear them in. I have always run with music and can’t imagine running without it.
I have been starting my runs with Arctic Monkeys. That gets me through 40 or 45 minutes, and then I move to the real deal, the extraordinary music that gets me through the fatigue, the music that fires me up and makes me forget how tired I am. Why don’t I listen to these transcendent songs from the beginning? I tried that, and it didn’t work out too well for me. I found myself running a 100-meter dash pace when my goal was 7 or 8 miles. I am working on that, this morning I was able to start with the special music for a while, so things are looking up.
I think I pretty much have said all I need to say. In a shocking turn of events (yeah, right!), I have to conclude this essay the same way I ended the first two Chapters. Emerson once said that a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, and to that, I say “three cheers and a tiger for Emerson.“ I’ll give everyone one guess as to who shows up in the next line.
Hi once again Athena,
I am writing to inform you that the cover song I wrote about in Chapter 1, you know the one, the “supercharged meme,” has now been replaced as my favorite remake. It didn’t stay there long did it? As Kurt Vonnegut once said, “so it goes.” Johnny Cash is once again in the first position with his version of Hurt. Also, your band didn’t make any of my lists, and I am not willing to listen to any arguments to the contrary. And don’t even get me started on music videos. That video that led directly to the destruction of my favorite mp3 player is nowhere to be found on my list of top 10 sexiest videos of all time. It’s not even close to the top 500.
I have never been one to clam up or shrink when the tough questions get asked, but in this particular instance, and for the first time in my life (I think), I am going to defer and let another person speak for me. If you have any questions I would be happy to try to answer them, but we both know what you need to do, don’t we? Shoot an e-mail to Roger Ebert, he can explain everything.
POSTSCRIPT:
For reasons that are beyond me, all H – E – DOUBLE TOOTHPICKS broke out after I wrote this essay. Typically, when I am more or less satisfied with the most recent draft, I send it out to a half dozen or so people for comments. This time they were not shy, nothing else I have ever written has generated this much response.
The first call I received was from my sister in law, Erin. The conversation went something like this – blah, blah, blah, and that one part where you cross your arms and say nothing sounds just like you and blah, blah, blah. Why didn’t you ask me who my favorite band is? OK, who is your favorite band? Well, I can’t remember their name but….
My brother Terry chimed in next. Now, I typically read these things 40 or 50 times before I make PDF’s to e-mail. The first thing out of Terry’s mouth was, “you know, there’s a typo in there. So, Olive is one of your oldest “fiends,” eh?” Only then did he tell me how much he liked the essay and how clever he thought it was.
My initial reaction was, “well, dammit.” I checked the keyboard on my laptop, the computer I do most of my writing on, and I found that there is indeed a problem with the “r” key. Sometimes it woks, and sometimes it doesn’t. (That one is on purpose.)
After talking to Terry, I went for a run, and inspiration hit me (it is so nice to be back out there). I have decided, in a major executive decision, to leave the typo in. Aside from being one of my oldest and dearest friends, Olive is absolutely one of my oldest “fiends.” I am not even going to change the grammatical structure of the sentence, it is a little awkward, but I think it is pretty damn funny as it stands.
Next up is The Lovely Mara, she wrote me back with a substantial list of her favorites. She was quick to mention that everything on her lists came right off the top of her head. From Death Cab for Cutie to the Grateful Dead, she nailed it. She mentioned that some people might be hesitant to talk about their favorite music because it is a personal issue, and they might worry about being judged. My only judgment is that her choices fit her perfectly; she is a published poet with the soul of, well, a poet.
Scott found so much wrong that I don’t even know where to start. Most of it is minor grammatical stuff that is of little importance. One thing, though, is major, and it illustrates the biggest problem I have when writing essays like these. He thought the transitions between some of the topics were a little “stilted.” Dude, you are preaching to the choir. The ideas for the general themes are easy; the execution is what is hard.
Stephen Jay Gould, the greatest scientific essayist who ever lived, wrote about these transitions. He wondered aloud how the musical term segue became co-opted for use as a general term for smooth change in any topic. The word segue is Italian for “it follows,” the implication being that there is a logical structure to the author’s argument. Let me tell you; it is a difficult thing to do; I constantly run the risk of being redundant, obscure, or both. I sometimes just want to write the word SEGUE in big block letters and move on to the next topic.
I just went to my special bookshelf to find the Gould essay about segues. I had to move 3 CDs to get to his books; you have no idea how much that makes me smile. My first guess was right on; I nabbed my worn-out copy of Bully for Brontosaurus and immediately found what I was looking for. On pages 98 to 106 in an essay called “The Dinosaur Rip-off,” I found my answer. The term moved from classical music to radio, and that is an easy transition to understand; many people working in early radio had musical training, so the term was common knowledge, and its use was commonplace. Then the story gets interesting. Apparently, Johnny Carson used the term quite a bit on The Tonight Show, and that is how it found its way into popular culture. Who knew? Not me, and I have read that entire book at least a dozen times. It is an intriguing story, but knowing the history of segues still doesn’t help me create smoother transitions.
I am about done, and I am going for a run. There is a good chance an idea or two will pop into my head about new essay topics. As for transitions, I think I need to bury my head into a book or two to learn more about how the masters do it. I am sure it is more of a mechanical than an inspirational issue, and I certainly have work to do. Of course, it also has occurred to me that Scott might just be full of crap.
