PERILS OF THE CLEANSED COLON

posted by James Reel

    After reading yesterday’s confession by yours truly, another broadcaster—not one who works here—sent this message:

The first time I ever filled in for the afternoon shift at KBAQ, I had to juggle underwriting credits for both news and traffic. My first break involved a very funny aligning of two UW credits—one for "Fiber-Con" and the other for "Preparation H." I kid you not. I made it through the break like a champ, and proceeded to giggle like a 6th-grader for several minutes afterward.

CONFESSION

posted by James Reel

    Every time I read the underwriting credit that mentions "mobile phlebotomists," I have a barely suppressed urge to giggle. "Phlebotomists" is a funny word to begin with, and making them "mobile" is somehow hilarious. Beyond that, if you know what phlebotomy refers to, and you conceive of it as a mobile service, there arises the image of vampire bats on the loose. For the sake of my dignity and the phlebotomists', I hope this contract expires before I lose control.

PATTERNS OF CRITICISM

posted by James Reel

    Believe it or not, even without the blanks filled in, the classical-music-review template provided by Jeremy Denk, a pianist with way too much time on his hands despite his summer performance schedule, would be a tremendous improvement over most of what we get hereabouts. Take a look, and don't forget to read the comments, too.

COMMENT NO. 309,487 ON ALAN GILBERT

posted by James Reel

    Everybody this week in the classical-music world is talking/writing/blogging about the appointment of Alan Gilbert as music director of the New York Philharmonic. With all the chatter elsewhere, I haven’t found it necessary to toss in my possibly redundant comments, but I’d like to point you to the one post you should read if you’ve been overwhelmed by it all and have just skipped the topic entirely. Terry Teachout says much of what should be said here, and rightly criticizes the inanity and irrelevance of what little has come out about Gilbert (he’s 40, both his parents were members of the Philharmonic, blah blah blah). Terry’s a bit off base, though, with this comment:

Far more important, I suspect, will be whether Gilbert proves to be an effective communicator--and whether he can find new ways of getting his message out to a new generation of listeners that is largely indifferent to classical music.

    What’s most important, rather, is whether or not this guy is an imaginative interpretive artist. Hardly anybody has heard this guy's performances, and those who have seem quite reserved in their appreciation. The last thing a major orchestra like the New York Philharmonic needs is yet another dull Kappelmeister (like Kurt Masur and the post-L.A. Zubin Mehta). Why should anybody pay to hear a conductor leading a highly paid orchestra through sleepwalking exercises? The orchestra’s current music director, Lorin Maazel, has rightly been criticized for his staid programming, but wrongly criticized by the superabundance of dullards in the New York press for daring to have ideas about the music he leads, and for persuading the orchestra to express those ideas faithfully. Maazel’s performances can sometimes seem wrong-headed, but they’re always exceptionally interesting. The fact that the New York Times’ Anthony Tommasini, who has been one of Maazel’s noisiest detractors, has soiled himself over Gilbert’s announcement is not a good sign.

GONE TO THE DOGS

posted by James Reel

    In the latest Tucson Weekly, I review a musical about singing canines:

    Bark! is a recent show with music by David Troy Francis, words by a lot of other guys and performances by six singer-actors assuming the roles of dogs. Kevin Johnson's Arizona Onstage Productions always takes big chances with its material, and on every opening night, Johnson wonders if this will be the show that bites him in the ass.
    Despite all the dogs on stage, this isn't it.
    Bark! doesn't sniff around the dark corners that most of Johnson's productions--including the comedies--do, and it's way too slight a show to be as life-changing, gut-wrenching or merely thought-provoking as most Arizona Onstage fare. Yet the writing is sufficiently clever and the production sufficiently polished that it's pleasing entertainment you shouldn't be embarrassed to admit you've enjoyed ... even though you spend an hour and a half watching six grown men and women singing about chewing socks, peeing and discovering the benefits of being neutered.

    Read the rest here. Performances are selling out very quickly, so if you want to see this, you’d better not stop and sniff the hydrants on your way to the box office.
    Otherwise, some poetry news of interest:

    Pity the poet: Appreciated by few. Scorned by some. Ignored by many. Tortured. Solitary.
    But now that's changing. At least you can scratch the word "solitary."
    Oh, the torture, scorn and limited appreciation remain, especially for slam poets, those brave souls who get up on a stage and compete for audience approval and, in their dreams, valuable cash prizes. These days, however, slam poetry is becoming a team sport, and Tucson is sending its first-ever team to the National Poetry Slam next month in Austin, Texas.
    Traveling to the National Slam, of course, requires money. These are poets we're talking about, so money is a problem. Or it would have been, had the local team not had the bright idea to raise funds this weekend with a three-hour event offering poetry, music and a collaboration between a border poet, a Mexico City video jockey and Tucson alternative-entertainment troupe Flam Chen.

    My full preview of the event lies here. I’m also mentioned in Tom Danehy’s column this week; he was obviously desperate for material.

CRITICAL DEFENSE

posted by James Reel

    The staff critics at the Dallas Morning News have addressed a number of common public complaints about their work, including such old standards as “What a terrible review! Were you at the same show I was at?” and “Why do critics always criticize everything?” The answers/defenses don’t go into much depth, but together they make the point that professional critics are people who bring informed opinion, not fannish gut reaction, to their job, and must make their case in a very limited space. At least, that’s the way it’s supposed to work. You’ll find the article here.
    The ultimate lesson may seem arrogant, but it’s important and true: As a fan, you may have an opinion, but that doesn’t mean you know what you’re talking about.