She sees a title she recognizes, because Pentatonix had subsequently performed it.
The Daughter likes to perform, on her own terms.
Over the summer, she arranged an impromptu dance performance, which is not all that unusual, having taken ballet in the past. What was noteworthy was that she danced to Sail On by the Commodores [LISTEN]. She just took a random compact disc from my CD holder, a greatest hits album, and decided on that. She was unfamiliar with the song, and the group. Yet it was a nice routine.
A couple of weeks later, she decided that she and her mother ought to do a fashion show of some of the clothes they bought over a weekend in anticipation of going back to school. Again, she picks a random CD, Hand on the Torch by US3, also a group unknown to her. She sees a title she recognizes, because Pentatonix had subsequently performed it, and she uses that for the show. The song was I Got It Goin’ On [LISTEN]. It fit with the fashion model motif, and at a little more than five minutes, it was just the right length.
It’d be one thing if she’d perused a list of MP3 tracks and glommed onto these titles, but this was some sort of inspired musical alchemy where she takes a random disc, from over a thousand of them, and makes something of it.
In 2014, Malala Yousafzai and Kailash Satyarthi were awarded as Nobel Peace Prize laureates for “their struggle against the suppression of children and young people and for the right of all children to education” At the age of 17, Malala became the youngest person to ever win a Nobel Prize.
Malala is therefore an appropriate choice for a documentary movie. The Daughter has been reading her autobiography, I Am Malala, upon which the film was based. The family plus The Daughter’s friend N went to the Spectrum in Albany to see He Named Me Malala.
It is a very nonlinear film, with some of the history, including the source of the protagonist’s first name, depicted in a very engaging animation style. We find that Malala is human, struggling with her studies in England, picking on her little brother, fascinated with Roger Federer’s hair. Yet she’s such an impressive person, feeling no antipathy for the Taliban man who shot, and nearly killed her.
The “he” in the title is Malala’s father, Ziauddin Yousafzai, who was a bit of a rabble-rouser in favor of education for girls himself. He describes his relationship with his daughter as them being two parts of the same persona.
The movie was produced and directed by Davis Guggenheim, who put out An Inconvenient Truth(2006) and Waiting for ‘Superman’ (2010). The Malala movie was less well-received, by both audiences and critics, perhaps because, I’ve read, the family tried to keep some privacy for a very public figure. And, since she’s still known to be alive, and a Nobel winner, there was not as much suspense as to the outcome.
I’d agree with the criticism that the film is more educational than engrossing. But it’s mighty educational, though I wish it were more so. This is an especially useful film for those less familiar with her story and is worthy on that level.
There are several songs, that I had never heard in their original forms until I had heard them in the medley.
The illustrious Illinois blogger SamuraiFrog decided to rank all of “Weird Al” Yankovic’s songs, 165 of them, an impressive undertaking. So, I decided to come up with a list of my 33 favorite Weird Al songs. Why 33? Because LPs play at 33 revolutions per minute. And I’m going to break them up into three posts of 11 songs each, mostly because posting 11 posts of three songs each would be weird.
Why now? Other than the fact that yesterday was Al’s 56th birthday, no real reason. I just like it, and isn’t what blogging is supposed to be about? I’ll post Part 2 in a month or so, and part 3 a month after that, unless I’m desperate for blog content.
First, a couple of nearly on the list: * The Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota (sort-of-based on Harry Chapin’s “30,000 Pounds of Bananas,” from UHF and Other Stuff, 1989)
*This Is the Life (Original; single from the motion picture Johnny Dangerously, 1984) This is from some apparently terrible Michael Keaton movie I’ve never seen.
33. Ode to a Superhero (Parody of “Piano Man” by Billy Joel; from Poodle Hat, 2003) Spider-Man was the character I most related to in the Marvel Universe, and I own the first two Sam Raimi movies on DVD. No, that’s not true; it was Peter Parker, his beleaguered alter ego. I’m fond of Billy Joel’s music; I saw him live in concert c 1974. If it’s merely telling the story of Raimi’s Spider-Man, that’s OK.
32. First World Problems (Style parody of the Pixies; from Mandatory Fun, 2014) When The Daughter made her list of favorite Weird Al songs last year, this was #1. Love the hair, and the acting: the facial expressions, the walk. The misplaced outrage would be funnier if it weren’t often so true.
This is from Al’s first #1 album, and the first comedy album since Allan Sherman’s over a half-century earlier to hit the top of the charts.
31. My Bologna (Parody of “My Sharona” by The Knack; from “Weird Al” Yankovic, 1983) Those early parody versions were not as polished as they would develop into. It uses accordion (in lieu of guitar), like much of his early work. If it’s a dumb song, I enjoyed it at that level.
30. Jurassic Park; #5 in Canada, #84 in Australia in 1993 (Parody of “MacArthur Park” by Richard Harris; from Alapalooza, 1993) Have I actually seen the movie Jurassic Park? I’ve seen big chunks of it. The song MacArthur Park is such over-the-top kitsch that I developed an odd affection for the Richard Harris performance. A great pairing.
29. The Brady Bunch (Parody of “The Safety Dance” by Men Without Hats; from “Weird Al” Yankovic in 3-D, 1984) I never actually watched one minute of The Brady Bunch, until it went into reruns. I discovered it was a pretty terrible show, as the protagonist in the Al song notes. At least the theme song at least told you what the show was about.
28. Callin’ in Sick (Original; from Bad Hair Day, 1996) From SamuraiFrog: “Man, Given Al’s ability to absurdly paint small dissatisfactions as life-defining (and life-thwarting) obstacles of epic proportions, he really ran with the joke. I think it says a lot that, 19 years later, this song sounds less like a parody of a popular style and more like a legitimate grunge single. He nailed it.” I have over 125 sick days right now; I don’t call nearly often enough.
27. Bob (Style parody of Bob Dylan; from Poodle Hat, 2003) Mr. Frog got it right: “I’m a Dylan fan, but if you’ve ever gritted your teeth in patience when someone goes on and on and on and on and on about how deep Bob Dylan’s lyrics are, someone doing a parody of Dylan with nothing but palindromes for lyrics is deeply refreshing.” I especially love the cue card motif, which was used in Dylan’s Subterranean Homesick Blues.
26. Hardware Store (Style parody of Oingo Boingo; from Poodle Hat, 2003) As Mr. Frog said: “That refrain is just pure genius. This is one of those great little songs where Al turns the mundane into the glorious.”
25. Mr. Popeil (Style parody of the B-52’s; from “Weird Al” Yankovic in 3-D, 1984) Not only is this a great style parody, it reminds me of all those endless Ron Popeil ads where he says, “But wait–there’s more!”
24. The Alternative Polka (Medley; from Bad Hair Day, 1996) – songs listed HERE My specific affection for this is that there are several songs, “Loser” by Beck, and “Black Hole Sun” by Soundgarden, for two, that I had never heard in their original forms until I had heard them in the medley, so it was informative. And his treatment of the angst-ridden “You Oughta Know” by Alanis Morissette just cracked me up
23. Pancreas (Style parody of Brian Wilson; from Straight Outta Lynwood, 2006) This is SO much Beach Boys, circa 1967. And given that the Daughter is now studying biology, maybe this should be part of her educational curriculum.
ITEM: I created a blog for the New York State Data Center affiliates called Data Detectives some years ago. I post every other day or so.
Sometime in early October, I was showing one of our interns the analytics of the page. I must admit that I almost never look at such things, on that blog, this one, or any of the ones to which I contribute. I’m told that I “should”, but, generally speaking, that conversation makes my eyes glaze over.
Still, I was fascinated that the most popular country among blog viewers for the week ending October 13: Russia – 1010 page views United States – 361 France – 35
I theorize that it had to do with my link to the article Lefty Presidents Are Better For Markets. This had to do with handedness, not politics, southpaws, not socialists.
Still, I wonder why even the total going back to May 2010 has so many views from the former Soviet Union:
United States 247,390 Russia 32,066 Germany 17,379 France 13,787 Ukraine 9,387 United Kingdom 9,078 Netherlands 3,294 China 3,278 Poland 3,040 Canada 2,963
ITEM: On Facebook, I forwarded to a terrestrial friend of mine an article about an award received by an author I knew he admired. He thanked me, adding, “It’s like I have my own personal librarian looking out for me.” This pleased me greatly.
ITEM: A guy named Jan, who was in my graduation class at Binghamton (NY) Central High School, asked to friend me on Facebook recently. I agreed, and almost immediately he posted this: “Found this during a recent archaeological dig.” This was taken around our HS graduation in 1971, I think, though someone theorized that it was from my college years; it DOES look like the ceiling of the Student Union Building offices of the Wind Sun News.
Just got a picture of me for our new IDs at our new work location downtown. Wouldn’t you know that it has that same “glare on the glasses” look? Since I don’t take selfies, you can’t blame ME.
For DECADES, I misheard the line in Groovin’, “Life would be ecstasy, you and me endlessly.”
Top: Dino, Eddie. Bottom: Felix, Gene.
The day the Beatles broke up in 1970, my favorite active band became the Rascals, formerly the Young Rascals, out of Garfield, New Jersey.
Vocalist/tambourine player Eddie Brigati and his fellow Rascals Felix Cavaliere (organ/vocals) and Gene Cornish (guitar/vocals) were once part of Joey Dee and the Starliters of “Peppermint Twist” fame. (David Brigati, Eddie’s brother, was in an earlier incarnation of the Starliters, and sang occasionally with the Rascals.) The Rascals’ drummer was Dino Danelli.
Felix and Eddie were the primary songwriters. In 2009, Cavaliere and Eddie Brigati were inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame. I had, and have, all of their albums, save for the first one, on vinyl.
When the Rascals, proponents of what was dubbed “blue-eyed soul”, left Atlantic Records and signed with Columbia Records in the early 1970s, and segued into a jazzier mode, Eddie and Gene left the band.
My personal favorite 20 Rascals songs in the Atlantic era, though only the top six are inflexible:
20. Away Away, from the See album (S). B-side of See, 1969. It’s the drum pattern in the verse, versus the harmony vocals on the chorus. It’s also the best song Gene Cornish wrote for the group; he’d get one song per album, rather like George Harrison with the Beatles. 19. Mustang Sally, from Young Rascals album (YR). B-side of Good Lovin’,1966. The Young Rascals performed a lot of covers, and this was my favorite. Well, except for the song I didn’t know was a cover. 18. A Beautiful Morning, from the Time/Peace album. #3, 36 rb in 1968. This is was the only new song on their greatest hits album, at the point they dropped the “Young” from the group name. 17. I’ve Been Lonely Too Long, from the Collections (C) album. #16, #33 rb in 1967. I loved the Collections, er collection, starting with the cover. 16. Come On Up, (C). #43 in 1966. The Rascals sound was heavily defined by that B-3 Hammond organ that Felix played, though this also has a nice guitar solo.
15. Find Somebody, from the Groovin’ album (G). The guitar line by Felix that bounces back and forth is hypnotic and vaguely psychedelic. 14. I Ain’t Gonna Eat Out My Heart Anymore, (YR). #52 in 1966. It was all there in the first single. Especially the great vocals, led by Eddie, and that organ. 13. What Is the Reason, (C). B-side of Come On Up, 1966. Especially like the little drum solo in the outro. 12. See, (S). #27 in 1969. The Rascals were deep in their love and peace mode. 11. Love Is A Beautiful Thing, (C). B-side of You Better Run, 1966. The shared vocal in some ways feels like the purest Rascals song.
10. It’s Wonderful, from the Once Upon a Dream album. #20 in 1968. For some reason, this became a song that my sister Leslie and I used to jog around the living room to. 9. People Got To Be Free, from the Freedom Suite album (FS). #1 for five weeks, #14 rb in 1968. One of its pluses: it starts right away, giving DJs of the day no opportunity to talk over an instrumental intro. It’s almost sappily optimistic. But is that so bad? Plus, I’m a sucker for train symbolism, e.g., the Impressions’ People Get Ready. 8. Sueno, (G). B-side of Groovin’, 1967. This is your basic psychedelic-pop-flamenco tune. 7. Ray of Hope, (FS). #24, #36 rb in 1969. Odd thing: for years, I thought this song was just OK. But, for some reason, around MLK Day 2015, it came to mind and stayed there. I hadn’t even heard it for quite a while. But I could hear in my head the wonderful detail of the vocal modulations, and I developed a newfound respect for the song. 6. A Girl Like You, (G). #10 in 1967. From the start, it brought me joy. The call and response vocals. The orchestration, with the horns; is that a harp?
5. You Better Run, (G). #20 in 1966. This is a song that was old enough to have appeared on the earlier Collections album in 1966 but did not. It occurred to me that the rhyme is extremely simple in the verse. Line, same line, a rhyming couplet, the first line. Yet powerful for that. 4. Groovin’, (G). #1 for four weeks, #3 rb in 1967. For DECADES, I thought the line, “Life would be ecstasy, you and me endlessly” ended as “you and me and LESLIE.” Since Leslie was my father’s name and is my sister’s name, I thought it was them picking a clever gender-non-specific name. But it’s a lovely song. 3. Good Lovin’, (YR). #1 in 1966. From Songfacts: “It was originally recorded in 1965 by The Olympics, a Novelty/Doo-Wop group…[The Young Rascals] recorded the song…, and although the group did not like the outcome, famed producer Tom Dowd loved the rawness of it, and that version was released, becoming a huge hit.” Yes, I love the garage-band vigor of the song. 2. How Can I Be Sure, (G). #4 in 1967. I mentioned earlier in the year that this was a waltz, which surprised some folks who obviously had never danced around the living room to this. Feel like I’m in Paris, with the accordion plus the trumpet and strings. 1. It’s Love, (G). B-side of A Girl Like You, 1967. Lives on the bass line and that Hubert Laws flute. Plus lyrics: “Oh, what a wild sensation, Multiple revelations.”
The Daughter likes to perform, on her own terms. 
