#and its so them that pete talks about what the meaning could be via film referene

[vampylily]

pete on so much for stardust. (x)

[nauseateddrive]

SUSPENDED by Alan Swyer

About to head off to conduct an interview, Pete Tarcher winced when a call came from his soon-to-be ex-. “How busy are you?” Suzanne asked before Tarcher even had a chance to say hello.

“Very. I've got a crew meeting me in Burbank.”

“Tell 'em you need to reschedule.”

“Because?”

“Jeremy's about to be suspended from school.”

“Let me call you from the car.”

Driving west toward Santa Monica, Tarcher listened uncomfortably via Bluetooth while Suzanne briefed him about their son's predicament. Then he asked an even more uncomfortable question. “Sure he wants me involved?”

“He thinks the world of you.”

“Sure has a funny way of showing it.”

“Kids take sides when their parents are going through divorce. Plus –”

“Yeah?”

“How'd you get on with your Dad when you were that age?”

“How well do he and I get on today?”

“I rest my case,” replied Suzanne.

After hanging up, Tarcher found himself contemplating the ways in which he and his son were different yet had much in common. Whereas Tarcher, proud of his New Jersey roots, was willfully outspoken and, when necessary, eager to get in someone's face, Jeremy was very much SoCal: soft-spoken with a winning kind of shyness, except when playing baseball, where he was a smiling assassin.

It was athletics that had long served as the primary bond between father and son, with Tarcher spending countless hours mentoring Jeremy in sport after sport. Though soccer, basketball, and football were part of his early years, it was always baseball that took precedence. Initially that meant Tarcher playing catch before school, pitching Wiffle balls to Jeremy in the backyard, and hitting ground balls to him at different parks. Once Jeremy turned nine, frequent trips to a local batting cage known as Slamo were added.

It was at Slamo where Jeremy, whose classmates, post-Little League, embraced computer games rather than team sports, formed friendships with kids who shared his zeal. That in turn opened the door to travel teams. The ensuing tournaments, first across Southern California, then farther away as well, often requited overnight stays, intensifying the ties between father and son.

Upon entering high school, Jeremy promptly had an experience that mirrored one from Tarcher's youth. While getting ready for fall baseball practice on a Tuesday afternoon, Jeremy was confronted by two vatos who were in the process of shaking him down when into the locker room stepped Junior Hernandez, co-captain of the team by day and reputed gang member.

“What the fuck you doin'?” screamed Junior when he saw what was happening.

“Be cool,” replied one of the toughs. “The motherfucker's white.”

“White or not, he's my teammate!” snarled Junior, ready to do some serious ass-kicking.

That, in a different sport was a reenactment of what happened to Tarcher, whose savior was Victor Washington, captain of the basketball team and heavyweight Golden Gloves boxing champ of New Jersey.

In another way as well, Jeremy followed in his father's path. To gain acceptance from his teammates and other in-groups, he assumed a double-life: a wild and crazy jock who, without calling much attention, happened to be in the school's Honors Program.

One person not fooled by Jeremy's protective coloration was his freshman English teacher, Ms. Vaughn, who was also the adviser to the school paper. Recognizing a talent that he himself might have otherwise not acknowledge, when Jeremy misbehaved in class one day, she issued an ultimatum: serve a week's detention, which would mean missing fall practice, or join the newspaper staff. Starting as second-string sportswriter, Jeremy rose to sports editor by his junior year, which yielded a peculiar series of omissions. Since reporters were not allowed to mention themselves in their stories, as Jeremy progressed from the youngest member of the varsity to its star, the sports pages carried more and more tales of game-winning hits, and shutouts thrown, with no mention of the player responsible for the heroics.

Little surprise that by his senior year, Jeremy requested, then demanded, a transition from sports to features, which inevitably led to the call from Suzanne that had Tarcher racing across town. 

Pulling into a visitor's spot in the high school parking lot, Tarcher walked purposefully toward the administration building. He nodded to a security guard he knew from attending countless baseball games, then to a couple of students he recognized, before stepping into the principal's outer office. There he immediately received a frown from his son, who was seated unhappily on a wooden bench.

“You don't have to be here,” Jeremy grumbled.

“I don't do anything because I have to,” answered Tarcher. “I'm here because I want to be. And for the record, it was your Mom who called me.”

Without another word, Tarcher approached the reception desk. “Pete Tarcher for Anne Marceau,” he announced to the woman there.

“She's expecting you?”

“You bet.”

The receptionist picked up the phone and spoke softly for a moment, then faced Tarcher and pointed. “She's –”

“I know,” said Tarcher. As he headed toward the appropriate door, out stepped a well- dressed black woman who smiled.

“I just saw the film you made about the criminal justice system in San Diego,” Anne Marceau stated with a smile.

“If you're trying to butter me up,” replied Tarcher, “this is not the time.”

“Come in,” said the principal, ushering Tarcher into her office, then closing the door and motioning for him to take a seat. “How much about this situation do you know?”

“Let's assume I know nothing, so you can start at the beginning.”

Anne Marceau took a deep breath. “You're aware of your son's article?”

“Like I said, assume I know nothing.”

“Jeremy wrote an extended piece about a day in the life of a tagger here at school.”

“Was it informative? Well-written?”

“Not the point,” insisted Ms Marceau. “Aside from the fact that tagging is gang-related –”

“Not always –”

“Largely. This is something I know a lot about.”

“And I just fell off the turnip truck?” countered Tarcher. “Which one of us created the LA County Teen Court system?”

“Then you know what a scourge graffiti is.”

“I also know that street art is the most exciting form of artistic expression today.”

Anne Marceau took a deep breath. “You're not being sympathetic.”

“While you threaten to suspend my son? What exactly do you want?”

Anne Marceau stood and paced for a moment before again addressing Tarcher. “For Jeremy to divulge the name of the tagger who's anonymous in his article.”

“And if not, he's suspended?”

Anne Marceau nodded.

“So you're telling me that Jeremy will wind up with a black mark that could influence not merely the colleges that are recruiting him, but also the pro scouts who have been coming to see him play.”

“There are consequences in this world.”

“Want to talk about consequences?” Tarcher asked, rising to his feet. “Ever heard the word retribution?”

“I-I'm not sure I follow.”

“Didn't you say just a little while ago that tagging was gang-related?”

“What's that got to do with anything?”

“Let's suppose the guy Jeremy followed is a gang member. Think he's going to shrug if outed? Take it in stride? Turn the other cheek? You're talking about putting my son in harm's way!”

“No need to raise your voice,” said Ms Marceau warily.

“Oh, yeah? Tell me what point you're trying to make.���

“That there's a lesson to be learned.”

“And that lesson is that it's okay to be a rat?”

Anne Marceau cringed. “That's not the way I see it.”

“I don't care if you see it as red, green, purple, or blue. That's the message you're sending. So please listen to me carefully. There's no way in the world you're going to force my son to become a rat. Are we clear? I mean 100 percent clear?”

Anne Marceau took a moment to gather herself. “Okay,” she then said. “I'll consider your point. Are we done?”

“No such luck. How about something called freedom of the press? That doesn't figure into this?”

“I-I think you're making more of this than necessary.”

“Am I?” asked Tarcher. “How do you think the LA Times will respond if they hear about this? Or the local news stations? Or maybe it could even go national.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I don't threaten. I take action. As you pointed out, I make documentaries. Know what? That gives me far better and far different access than if I were, say, an orthodontist, a car mechanic, or a lifeguard.”

“You're making me very uncomfortable.”

“Well guess what,” said Tarcher. “I'm just getting started. Here's the really awkward news. Much of what I do is muckraking. Get my drift?”

“I-I'm not sure.”

“Then let me explain. It might be really interesting to make a documentary about a school that prides itself on teaching kids about their rights, then punishes them when they use 'em.”

“Mr. Tarcher –”

“I'm not finished yet. Here's what's going to happen. If my son is suspended, the first thing I'm going to do is reward him with a trip. Maybe Catalina while he's missing school. Or even better, Hawaii. Understood?”

“Pete –”

“Then I'm going to use every resource at my disposal to make the world aware of what transpired, as well as who's behind it.”

“Please –”

“Next, I'm going to explore what other students have had their freedom of expression abridged. Why? Because the more I think about it, the more I can see a documentary like this appealing to Netflix, or HBO, or maybe PBS.”

Anne Marceau sighed. “What exactly do you want?”

“You're an intelligent women. What exactly do you think I want?”

Still seated on the wooden bench in the outer office, Jeremy looked up as his father emerged from Anne Marceau's office. “So?” he asked.

Tarcher eyed his son for a moment, then spoke. “Let's just say that Koufax is still the greatest lefty ever, Greg Maddox the best righty, and Tony Oliva the best natural hitter.”

“That's all?”

“And the sun will come up tomorrow morning.”

With that, Tarcher headed toward the door, only to have his son follow.

“Wait,” said Jeremy. “I-I don't know what to say.”

“Then maybe it's best to say nothing.”

Jeremy took a moment to reflect before speaking. “Thanks,” he then offered.

“For?”

“Coming. And helping. And being my dad.”

“I'm here when you need me.”

“I know,” stated Jeremy. “But that doesn't mean I'm not still upset at you.”

Tarcher studied his son for a moment, then smiled. “Likewise.”

Back on the freeway, Tarcher couldn't help by think about the contrast between his professional and personal experiences. Because he made documentaries – about the criminal justice system, Eastern spirituality in the Western world, breakthroughs in the treatment of diabetes, and even boxing – most people assumed that he was showing the world as it is. Yet Tarcher knew full well that with his films he could exercise significant control thanks to the people he chose to interview, the questions he asked them, and above all the choices he made during the editing process by sequencing and selecting the sound bytes used.

In real life, in contrast, control ranged from minimal to none.

That made real life – and especially his life – infinitely harder.

[timeagainreviews]

Five-ish Possible Showrunners for Doctor Who

It’s nothing new that people are displeased with Chris Chibnall as showrunner for Doctor Who. Throughout his tenure, he’s consistently been the weakest link in the chains holding the show together. That being said, people weren’t very happy about Steven Moffat either, and I’m sure even Russel T Davies had his fair share of detractors. It seems that no matter who is in the role of showrunner, someone will always find something to complain about.

After last night’s episode, I’ve seen the usual wingeing about Chris Chibnall. People have been calling for his removal as showrunner. Personally, I feel like Chibnall has actually progressed as an artist since he first took the reins. Series twelve was a marked improvement upon series eleven. But all of this talk got me thinking about who might be better suited to for the job. What people would I like to see in the hot seat? Let me reiterate- this is not me calling for Chibnall’s removal from the show (kinda). This is simply a thought exercise. Feel free to comment your picks as well!

1. Edgar Wright

When devising this list, Edgar Wright was the first person I thought of for the job of showrunner. With such titles as "Shaun of the Dead," "Hot Fuzz," and "Scott Pilgrim vs The World," under his belt, it's easy to see why. Already established as a great British director, writer, and producer, he clearly has the chops to take the job. This is the man who was too weird for the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and they once put out a movie about a talking raccoon with tree friend and love for heavy artillery.

My only reservation is whether or not he would actually take the job. It's not as though Mr Wright is in low demand. Would he be interested in taking what is most likely a pay cut while also working on the BBC's tight budget? If the Beeb could be smart enough to let the man have artistic freedom, we could easily end up with one of the best series of Doctor Who in years. Even if it only was just for one year.

2. Ben Wheatley & Amy Jump

This one may seem like a bit of an odd choice, but maybe not as odd as you would imagine. Coming from a more art film background, this husband/wife duo are more than capable of bringing the goods. Having both worked in film and animation I could see their skills put toward Doctor Who with great success. Neither one of them is a stranger to the process of writing, producing, or directing.

You may find them a bit of an odd choice as their black comedies like "Kill List," and "A Field in England," are anything but family-friendly. However, I might remind you that Wheatley himself has already directed two episodes of Doctor Who during the Capaldi era. Once again, it comes down to the basic question as to whether they would actually want the job. Had Wheatley never taken the job directing Doctor Who, I doubt I would have even considered them as a choice. But when you consider the dour sadfest that is "Broadchurch," suddenly they don't seem so strange.

3. Lawrence Miles

I know, I know. Lawrence Miles is easily one of the more controversial figures in the Doctor Who fandom. Outspoken and sometimes downright rude, he's burned his fair share of bridges. I myself have been at the receiving end of his snakiness via twitter. Even with all of these things factored in, I still want to see it happen. He's just that good of a writer. Also, this wouldn't be the first time a non-show writer has become showrunner. Remember Russell T Davies? Though I will concede that he did have a proven track record in television.

Listen, I get that this will never happen, but hear me out. When I first started getting into Doctor Who novels, I began with the Eighth Doctor Adventures. As with most book series, I began reading them in release order. I found some of the books to be fairly entertaining, and some were downright a chore to get through. And then I started reading "Alien Bodies." It was like a light suddenly went off in my head. This wasn't just good, it was brilliant. My enthusiasm for the entire series was given a jolt of energy.

He hadn't just written a good story, he gave the entire series some actual direction. Before "Alien Bodies," it felt as though most of the writers were still wishing they were writing the Virgin Media books. He even managed to breathe life into the companion Sam Jones, who I had found rather dull up until that point. His ability to write even the cheesiest of villains (such as the Krotons) in new and interesting ways was a breath of fresh air. He also introduced us to his Faction Paradox, which would go on to become its own cult favourite series of books. The fact is, the man had vision, and for that, he'll always be one of my favourite Doctor Who writers. If they were to hire him as showrunner, I would not complain.

4. Noah Hawley

Recently in an interview, writer Joe Hill recounted his brutal rejection letter from the BBC pertaining to his Doctor Who script submissions. Their response was basically "We would never hire an American, and if we did, it certainly wouldn't be you." Harsh. First off, that's a bit silly. Saying never to a group of writers based on their nationality is a bit myopic. Furthermore, the damn show was devised by a Canadian! I'm a firm believer of "the right person for the job." I am also of the belief that Noah Hawley could be that person.

Having produced both "Legion," and "Fargo," Hawley is a heavyweight in prestige television. Not only does he grant a degree of artistry to everything he touches, but he also adds a hint of surrealism. One of the things I've touched on in my reviews of the First Doctor era is just how surreal things can be at times. A British police box that travels through time is certainly not your run of the mill concept. Often times I think the showrunners forget just how weird Doctor Who actually is.

Hawley is also no stranger to the concept of science fiction, as Legion is actually a show based off of a Marvel comic book. It contains action, sci-fi, superhumans, strange prosthetics, and a healthy dose of surrealism. In this way, he elevates the source material while finding new and exciting ways to present it. If the BBC wanted to really put Doctor Who on the road toward BAFTA heaven, they would do well to consider someone like Noah Hawley.

5. One of the current writers

Out of all of my choices, this is the one I feel the least confident about. I say this because, well, I don't know much about their capabilities as producers. And when I say "their," I mostly mean Pete McTighe, Ed Hime, Vinay Patel and Joy Wilkinson. While there are plenty of good writers on the Doctor Who staff, these four have easily had the most stand out episodes in the last two series. McTighe is a massive Whovian geek who has shown his capability as a writer. Hime is a bit of a wild card with a penchant for the unusual. Patel has shown himself capable of writing strong drama and action. And Wilkinson, while having the least number of episodes under her belt, wrote what I consider one of the best episodes of series eleven.

Furthermore, it sticks with the convention of sticking to previous show writers as in the case of Moffat and Chibnall. As I said above, even RTD had a history with writing Doctor Who in the form of novels and audios. Having a person from the writer's room on set would be beneficial as they have already been steeped in the process. There's a pre-existing work relationship with not only the other writers but with the cast and crew as well. Out of all of the Doctor Who writers from the past few years, these four newcomers stand out among the rest. I would be intrigued by any one of them getting the job.

[zdbztumble]

“Kingdom Hearts II revisited” Part III

I had meant to cover the first pass on all the Disney worlds in one post, but this game is just too long, and I have too many notes. For now we’ll just go over everything up to and including Disney Castle/Timeless River. Maybe the second pass can fit into one post.

Going back to KH II after KH III, you notice certain things that would probably have been taken for granted before. One example is how little talk there is about the “world order.” That’s something that’s existed as a concept since the first game, but it isn’t a big deal in the early part of the series. Outside of King Triton knowing about the Keyblade, our heroes never breech it, and there isn’t an excessive amount of pressure to maintain it - unique looks for certain worlds, and line or two is about all the first game spends on the subject. That pattern holds true for the second game. Granted, most of the worlds in KH II are worlds either used or alluded to in KH I, involving numerous characters who are well aware by now about other worlds. But as of this writing, I’ve played through the first pass on Port Royal, which has no such ties, and the closest thing to a mention of the world order is Sora and friends remarking how different the world looks to the others when they first show up. That’s it. If anything, they’re too blase about it in Port Royal, but I’ll come back to that another day.

The point is - the “world order” just wasn’t a major issue in the early games of this series, nor did it need to be. It certainly didn’t need to turn into a one-note running gag of Donald berating Sora for disregarding the world order, especially when Sora - in the limited time given to the subject in these early games - is fairly mindful of it.

And that’s another thing that changed in the time between KH II and III - who’s the butt of the jokes made about the mission. KH III is loaded with characters chastising, critiquing, demeaning, mocking, and castigating Sora, and having been thoroughly retconned into a shonen doofus, Sora unfortunately gives them some justifiable cause (though I would argue it’s still excessive.) But in this game, the butt of the jokes is Donald. And while there is some teasing involved, most of it is without commentary, and comes from Donald doing the same shtick he’s known for in the mainline Disney canon - being hot-tempered, greedy, impulsive, boastful until challenged, or desperate to avoid trouble with Daisy. This works so much better as a source of comic relief. Donald is a character specifically designed to end up with egg on his face, and since he’s not the protagonist, using him as a go-to for comedy doesn’t undermine the credibility of the hero.

Now, onto the Disney worlds themselves...

KH II has been criticized for the way it handles the Disney worlds. It’s been charged that they’re nothing but filler, that this is where the trend of stiff re-tellings of the movie plots began, that Sora is irrelevant in them. At least for these first four, I can’t say I agree on any of those points.

To start with the “filler” charge - look again at Yen Sid’s briefing. He gives Sora a pretty straightforward assessment: the Heartless are back, and there’s also Organization XIII. Looking at the first three Disney worlds, we have one where the Heartless ally with the resident Disney villain, one where a member of Organization XIII is up to something, and one where both the Heartless (in service to Pete, and by extension Maleficent) and Organization XIII are active, demonstrating that they’re at odds, along with the local villain. That flows pretty organically from what Yen Sid tells Sora. It’s such a smooth move from that talk to the Disney worlds, in fact, that it only reinforces my feeling from last time that Hollow Bastion should have been saved for later. You don’t have the interstitial cutscenes of villain plotting that gave KH I a sense of a continuous story; things are more episodic here. But that’s not a bad thing, and it doesn’t mean that any of these worlds are “just” filler - they do logically follow from preceding set-up.

The idea that the worlds do noting but recap the movies is a charge only relevant to one of these first four worlds, the Land of Dragons. And I will admit that, compared to the few KH I levels that did adapt the movie plots rather than create their own, the story content here is closer to the film. But that, in and of itself, isn’t a bad thing, provided it’s done correctly. And I would argue that it is done correctly in this game, at least for the Land of Dragons. While the plot holds true to the back half of Mulan, it’s abridged, with appropriate adjustments made to the remaining material to make major character turns and stake escalations work - and to allow the movie material to be in service to the larger KH story. Mushu having been a Summon in KH I gives a great springboard into the action, moments for interplay between the KH characters and the movie characters are well-chosen (Donald picking a fight with the three soldiers comes to mind, though I question Sora’s involvement; similar scenes in later worlds show him being more sensible), and most importantly - the changes mean that Sora is relevant. 

To keep using the Land of Dragons as an example: in that world, it’s now Sora who suggests the way for “Ping” to prove “himself” in the army. He and Mulan make several key decisions together. And the final boss battle has Sora fighting alongside Mulan against the actual villain of the world, not some random Heartless conjured out of nowhere to keep Sora busy while plot keeps rolling without him. The same pattern holds for the Beast’s Castle and Olympus. That the protagonist should matter to the story, and be involved at the point of action in each world of a video game, should be a no-brainer, but this is another example of KH II wonderfully executing a basic idea that later games somehow managed to completely botch.

I have no issues with the pacing of the story material in these worlds either. I have a huge problem with the pacing of something in between these worlds - but we’ll get back to that. If any of them get a little rocky, it’s Olympus - with the three sets of villains running around, things get a little scattershot, which results in things like Auron’s reveal being rather rushed. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing - multiple villains jockeying for their own agendas would leave things rather scattershot. Giving Sora another hint towards Roxas’s identity is a good touch in that world too. I must say, though - Demyx is dumb. Like, really dumb. If you take Organization XIII to be more effective as a unit than as individuals, as I do, then Demyx as the first unmasked boss makes his level of cartoonish idiocy more palatable, and I suppose it fits the tone of the Hercules movie. But he is just so dumb.

Some great little gags and character quirks litter the first four Disney worlds. There’s the re-write of how Mulan gets exposed via Mushu’s big mouth, the fake-out with the wardrobe refusing to tell the Beast’s backstory, Donald being astounded by the talking objects (whereas Sora takes it in stride - remember that the next time you see him getting so worked up over a talking snowman in KH III), Queen Minnie being an absolute badass, and Shang saving the emperor in a way that I think is more impressive than the actual film. And I love that the joint action commands make it easier to finish boss fights while working together with Disney characters.

But if I can start to critique the gameplay now, I would say that things being too easy is a problem with KH II. The “hallway” complaint about the world design is an apt one, making the maps rather bland to navigate despite being pretty to look at. There’s also the problem of special tasks not offering the variety and challenge one might like from them. Lighting the lanterns in Beast’s Castle is a great example. That’s a puzzle, with a literal ticking clock. It could have been a fun bit of gameplay, very different from the usual Heartless battles...if the lanterns were in any way difficult to find, or spaced out to really push the clock to the limit. Instead, it’s such an easy exercise that I have to wonder why they even bothered putting it in. (I will say, though, that Beast’s Castle’s first pass offers up a wonderfully creative boss that does present a decent challenge - moreso in its first stage than its second, but still a fun fight.)

On the other hand, I think the AI for battle partners took a step back with this game. Now, my experience with the KH AI has never matched up to common opinion, so I’m not claiming this as an objective problem with the game. All I can tell you is that, customized properly, Donald in KH I has always been a reliable battle partner for me, while Donald in KH II spams spells and wastes items no matter how I work his settings.

And there are few things about the gameplay that just irk me. The lack of logic behind why some party members drop out at given points is one (really, why would “Ping” not help you fight the swarm on the mountain?) and the changes to magic are another. I love to use magic in these games, but something about it here just isn’t as satisfying. Fire as a close-range defensive spell is just wrong.

But those are, if not exactly nitpicks, relatively minor complaints. The game is still fun to play, after all. There are larger issues - story issues - within these first few Disney worlds.

To start with the smallest one - my problems with Sora’s character remain. He is, for the most part, attentive to duty and a competent, charismatic presence for the other characters to follow, as he was in KH I and CoM. But every now and again, the signs of what’s to come crop up. I mentioned him joining Donald in the brawl in the Land of Dragons already, but it’s more a problem of attitude - just how lighthearted and casual he can be toward his latest adventure. I grant you that, at this point in the game, nothing except possibly Maleficent’s infiltration of Disney Castle would indicate to Sora that the stakes are anywhere near as high as they were last time. And his greatest lapses into this attitude happen in Olympus and Disney Castle, two worlds based around comic Disney titles. But with hindsight, it’s hard not to watch those moments and cringe, because of what they led to. Sora in this game is oddly split, with one-and-a-half feet still back with who he was initially, and half a foot over the line to shonen doofus, and the dichotomy is very strange to see play out.

The big pacing issue I mentioned before is caused by our old friend Winnie the Pooh. The first game may have compelled you to at least start on his storybook, but in nowhere as obtrusive a manner as is done here. To be forcibly yanked from the world traveling, just as a nice flow is going, is maddening. Chances are good that many players (me among them) would have happily played the storybook minigames even if they were optional, so there was no need for this. KH II having the Heartless attempting to steal the book gives a better motivation to jump into it than KH III’s effort, but that isn’t saying much. And it doesn’t help that, at the end of the day, collecting the torn pages is a retread of the first game’s plot for Pooh. There is a clear variation on the theme, with the goal being to restore Pooh’s memory. I’ll even give them some credit for, perhaps inadvertently, giving Pooh a thematic connection to what Sora went through in CoM. But the end result is the same - find pages, find the characters within the pages, play the minigame. Given that repetitive nature to the book’s set-up, and its intrusive drag on the greater plot, I have to say that I think Pooh should have been retired after the first game - something I don’t say with any great fondness, as I love Pooh’s world in KH I.

I also love the way Belle and the Beast are used in KH I, and still question their presence in this game. That is based on one very basic problem, one that has plagued Disney in every attempt they’ve made to do something with the animated Beauty and the Beast since the original film: it’s not a story meant for prequels, sequels, or midquels.

It’s the midquel that Disney has tried multiple times, and by its nature, Beauty and the Beast just can’t support them. The Beast can only generate conflict with Belle by remaining beastly for so long in that setting before it undermines the believability of his shift, and romantic tension can’t exist between him and Belle any earlier than it does in the original film without undermining the ticking clock of the rose. The midquels Disney made ignore both these issues, and turn Belle into a much more gentle and passive character than she was in the original movie - someone more like a counselor or social worker for the Beast than a prisoner-turned-friend, and someone actively trying to “fix” him, an unpleasant spectacle in more ways than one.

Pretty much the only way to effectively tell another story with Belle and the Beast is what KH I did - take those two characters out of their own story, with all its internal logic and constraints, and use them in someone else’s. Fans of Beauty and the Beast can bring their attachment to those characters to KH I without the baggage of the plot, and no more is done with those characters except what is needed for Sora’s story. It let two of the best Disney heroes be a part of this fantastic crossover experiment, and it didn’t betray anything that fans loved about their personalities or the integrity of their film’s story.

KH II is a different story. I can appreciate that, with Kingdom Hearts creating alternate versions of every Disney world brought into its orbit, I can’t hold the story material in Beast’s Castle to the same standard as I would those horrendous midquels. We aren’t told that Belle is any kind of prisoner, for one thing, and the timeline may be very different. But the enchanted objects are all here. The ballroom and the west wing are all present. The backstory of the Beast is the same. And the rose - and its rules - are the same. The level of romantic tension shown between Belle and the Beast by the end of the first pass on their world just doesn’t jive with that ticking clock.

I was prepared to say a lot about the Beast’s behavior in this world too, but playing through it again - I do get what they were going for. His demonstration of cleverness, taking preemptive action to protect his friends in case Xaldin proved as devious as he seemed and corrupted the Beast, is well laid-out. The wording of the dialogue undermines the content of his scenes. But...that dialogue is really bad out of context. And Belle, as she is in all those midquels, is much too passive here compared to the film.

However, the biggest problem I had with any of these first four worlds on a story level was the Timeless River.

Not Disney Castle proper - that’s all amazing stuff. If one could have guessed that there would be Heartless battles there when it finally became a world, I don’t think it was as easy to guess that it would be an immediate issue, or that Maleficent herself would strike at the center of the world. It’s a wonderful bit of story and world-building, all of that.

But the Timeless River is another instance where I can see a trend getting worse, and in this case it’s the trend of pointless mystery. There is absolutely no in-world reason for Merlin not to tell Sora that he’ll be going into the past. Not telling him only leads to misunderstandings and wasted time once Sora gets there. The only reason Merlin doesn’t say anything is because, if he did, the gimmick of finding out that they’re in the past via those windows into Pete’s mind wouldn’t work. But it’s so obvious that they’re in the past, so early in the stage, that it strains credulity that Sora and the others can’t figure it out. If Sora remaining ignorant of his ties to Roxas is an example of denying a protagonist knowledge the player has done right, this is an example of that concept done very, very wrong. This series’ love affair with pointless “mystery” without any internal logic only strengthened with time, but it’s more painfully felt here for me, because the Timeless River is a wonderful idea for a stage and is loaded with charm. I couldn’t give a shit about a lot of the cryptic mumbo-jumbo surrounding Organization XIII’s members in this or future titles, but to saddle a beautiful Disney world with this kind of crap really gets under my skin.

One mystery that I would like an answer to, though: why is the Gummi route leading to Olympus the one themed after a ghost pirate ship?

[amer-ainu]

In 1973, three young activists in New York City recorded A Grain of Sand: Music for the Struggle by Asians in America. Singing of their direct lineage to immigrant workers as well as their affinity with freedom fighters everywhere, Chris Kando Iijima, Nobuko JoAnne Miyamoto, and William “Charlie” Chin recorded the experiences of the first generation to identify with the term and concept Asian American—a pan-ethnic association formulated upon a shared history of discrimination. They sought a connection to their cultural heritage; to claim their historical presence in the United States; to resist their marginalization; and to mobilize solidarity across class, ethnic, racial, and national differences. Music provided a powerful means for expressing their aspiration to reshape a society reeling from a prolonged war, ongoing struggles against racial inequity, and revelations of the Watergate cover-up. As writer and activist Phil Tajitsu Nash would state many decades later, A Grain of Sand was “more than just grooves on a piece of vinyl,” it was “the soundtrack for the political and personal awareness taking place in their lives.” Equal parts political manifesto, collaborative art project, and organizing tool, it is widely recognized as the first album of Asian American music.

A Grain of Sand was produced by Paredon Records. Over the course of 15 years, Paredon founders Irwin Silber and Barbara Dane amassed a catalog of 50 titles reflecting their commitment to the music of peace and social justice movements. In 1991, to ensure its ongoing accessibility, Silber and Dane donated the Paredon catalog to the Ralph Rinzler Folklife Archives and Collections at the Smithsonian Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage, through which these recordings and their original liner notes remain available to the public.

THE MUSIC While the message of the album was by no means mainstream, the music through which Chris, Nobuko, and Charlie expressed their political and social convictions was reflective of the popular genres of the period. The 12 songs on A Grain of Sand were shaped by the American folk music revival, blues, soul, and jazz. For instance, “The Wandering Chinaman” is in the form of a traditional ballad. “We Are the Children” is more of a folk-rock anthem. “Divide and Conquer” and “Free the Land,” with their bass and percussion lines, are driven by a soul groove. “Something About Me Today” and “War of the Flea,” are instrumentally stark, emphasizing Nobuko’s voice against the counterpoint of Chris and Charlie’s guitar lines. All of their songs are notably written in the first person and directly encourage the listener to action: “Hold the banner high...”; “Will you answer...”; “Take a stand....”

Intending to take their music on the road, they kept their instrumentation simple—two guitars and three voices. For the album and in some performances, they were backed by conga and bass, and other instruments such as the di zi, a Chinese transverse flute that Charlie played.

A Grain of Sand was mostly compiled over a two-day period from first or second takes. Charlie compares their 4-track recording process to more technically sophisticated commercial productions as the difference between “a folding chair and a Maserati.” And perhaps because of these conditions, the recording is animated by the spontaneity and energy of a live performance. Arlan Huang, who created the artwork for the album jacket, remembers, “It was fresh as can be. There was nothing else like it. The power of their lyrics was aimed at people like me. They were saying things that I had thought about but hadn’t put into words or painting. And they were GOOD. It wasn’t like seeing your buddies at the neighborhood hootenanny strumming a guitar. Nobuko could actually sing.”

THE ARTISTS Chris, Nobuko, and Charlie, who were in their twenties and thirties in the early 1970s, arrived at their collaboration via routes that reflect the legacies of migration and exclusion.

Nobuko JoAnne Miyamoto (b. 1939). Nobuko’s mother was born in the United States, the daughter of Japanese immigrants; her father was the son of a Japanese immigrant father and a White Mormon mother from Idaho. The family was living in Los Angeles when World War II broke out and all people of Japanese ancestry on the West Coast were forcibly removed from their communities. To get his family out of the Santa Anita racetrack where they were initially confined, Nobuko’s father volunteered to harvest sugar beets in Montana. From there the family moved to Idaho and then to Utah before they were allowed to return to Los Angeles after the war. Despite this instability, Nobuko was encouraged by both parents in her study of music and dance. By the 1960s, she had been a scholarship student at the American School of Dance in Hollywood; performed with Alicia Alonso’s ballet company; and performed in the original Broadway production of Flower Drum Song, as well as in the film adaptation of West Side Story, where she was cast as one of Maria’s Puerto Rican dress-shop companions. She had also discovered the limitations of being an Asian in the mainstream entertainment industry. In 1968, she helped Italian filmmaker Antonello Branca to document the Black Panther Party for his film Seize the Time. Through this project, she met Yuri Kochiyama, a Harlem community activist and friend of the late Malcolm X, who subsequently introduced Nobuko to civil rights organizing in the local Asian and African American communities.

Chris Kando Iijima (1948–2005). Both of Chris’s parents, Americans of Japanese ancestry, were originally from California but raised their family in New York City, where they resettled after their World War II incarceration. Their example and consciousness significantly contributed to A Grain of Sand. Chris’s father was a musician and choirmaster, who took his children to the 1963 March on Washington. His mother—inspired by the educational and cultural activities integral to the Black Power movement—co-founded the organization Asian Americans for Action (Triple A) in 1969 to instill the same kind of pride in local Asian American youth. Chris attended the High School of Music and Art in Harlem, where he studied French horn, though he also played guitar.

Chris and Nobuko met in Triple A; and they wrote their first song and performed together in 1969 at a conference of the Japanese American Citizens League, where they joined other young people in urging the organization to oppose the war in Vietnam. Nobuko recalls, “We sang a song that was the collective expression of our Asian brothers and sisters to stop the killing of people who looked like us. The electricity of that moment, the realization that, until then, we had never heard songs about us, set the course of my journey.” When they returned to New York, Chris and Nobuko wrote more songs and began to perform locally and in California. A year later they met Charlie Chin.

William “Charlie” Chin (b. 1944). Charlie’s father came to New York City from Toisan, China; his mother, who was of mixed Chinese, Carib, and Venezuelan ancestry, was born in New York but raised in Trinidad. Growing up in Queens, Charlie’s musical upbringing was comprised of the Trinidadian forms played by his mother’s relatives and those emanating from the American folk music revival. Inspired by Pete Seeger, Charlie took up the banjo, but he also played cuatro, auto harp, and guitar. In the late 1960s, he toured the country with Cat Mother and the All Night News Boys. After he left the group, he returned to New York, where he worked as a bartender. In 1970, he ended up backing Chris and Nobuko by chance at a performance for a conference of new Asian American community groups, student organizations, and activists at Pace College. He recalls, “I’m at the conference, and all the things they are talking about—Asian Americans, how history impacts us, how we have been apologetic about being Asian. And there’s been this hanging question for me, ever since I had taught Appalachian 5-string banjo at a folk music camp, ‘Where is my history? Where is my culture?’ So I go on with them. And I’m listening—I have never heard this stuff before. This is amazing. So the first time I ever hear them play, I’m playing with them.”

For the next three years, the trio performed at Buddhist temples, churches, colleges, community centers, coffeehouses, rallies, prisons, and parks in New York and across the country. “We became like griots,” Nobuko says, “Moving like troubadours from community to community—we’d say, ‘This is what is going on in New York…and we have this Chinatown health program going on,’ and we would carry this news to Sacramento and L.A. and Stockton and San Francisco. And then we’d gather stories from there and carry it back to New York. We were like the YouTube of the times—spreading the news.”

THE MOVEMENT Coming of age during the civil rights and anti-war movements, the children and grandchildren of Asian immigrants unleashed a whirlwind of grassroots activism beginning in the late 1960s. Around the country, they protested the war. They demanded ethnic studies curricula. They organized against urban renewal projects that displaced the residents of old Chinatowns and Japantowns. They formed literary workshops, art collectives, and social service centers. A Grain of Sand was a direct extension of Chris, Nobuko, and Charlie’s collaboration in the Asian American Movement.

One important community that provided support and inspiration for A Grain of Sand was Basement Workshop, an Asian American collective in New York’s Chinatown. Formed in 1970, they ran a creative arts program, a resource center for community documentation, and a youth employment program; produced a magazine; and offered language and citizenship classes. In 1971, Basement Workshop undertook a project to illustrate and publish the music of Chris, Nobuko, and Charlie. Titled Yellow Pearl, after one of their songs, it grew into a larger compilation of writing, art, and music. Public artist Tomie Arai emphasizes the importance of Basement and A Grain of Sand during this period: “You have to understand. There wasn’t anything at all out there. There was no music. No published poetry, music, recordings. Nothing. It was through Basement that people began to refer to themselves as artists. I didn’t know any artists. I wanted to be one—but I didn’t know what that meant.”

Fay Chiang, who served as director of Basement for 12 years, recalls that for their programs and direct actions, they also looked to the examples of other communities: “We were influenced by what was happening in the Black and Puerto Rican communities. Why not us? Who are we? It was very basic: Who are we? There was a hunger, a need to figure that out, where we felt like it was a matter life and death. The second and third generation Japanese Americans had come from the camps—and this feeling of not belonging in the society, racism, and displacement was visceral.”

Chris, Nobuko, and Charlie’s association with activists in other communities was reflected in their music. For example, “Somos Asiaticos” was inspired by their involvement with squatters’ organizations Operation Move In and El Comité. These activists opened a coffee shop on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, the Dot, which was regularly visited by singers, performers, and poets from Cuba, Chile, Peru, Puerto Rico, and the Dominican Republic. The Asian Americans who had taken over a storefront for a drop-in center down the street also congregated here. Nobuko recalled, “We were all there—artists and poets—listening to and influencing each other. We had a whole set, five songs, that we did in Spanish. One year, I think it was 1973–1974, we did more gigs for Latino groups than for Asian groups.” In fact, their first recording was done for a Puerto Rican company, Discos Coqui. Invited by two Puerto Rican Movement singers, Pepe y Flora, they recorded “Venceremos” and “Somos Asiaticos,” which were released as a 45 disc in Puerto Rico. Later, they were invited to perform at Madison Square Garden for Puerto Rican Liberation Day.

“Free the Land,” another song on A Grain of Sand, was written by Chris for the Republic of New Africa. This organization, established by a group of Malcolm X’s associates after his 1965 assassination, was the first group to call for slavery reparations—in particular in the form of an all-Black homeland in the southern states of Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, and South Carolina. Atallah Muhammad Ayubbi and Dr. Mutulu Shakur, both Republic of New Africa members, performed on A Grain of Sand. Atallah worked in the Black and Puerto Rican communities in the Bronx where he grew up. He was also a conguero and sometimes accompanied the group in live performances. Dr. Mutulu Shakur, who is the godfather of Nobuko and Atallah’s son, provided background vocals on the album. He often played the album at home, and his stepson, the late rapper Tupac Shakur, grew up listening and singing along to it.

Of this time in the early 1970s, Nobuko recalls, “It was like jumping into the pool of revolution…. Every day there was organizing going on at many different levels. It was powerful. You see something wrong, you have an idea how to fix it, you put it into practice.” And about this period living on the Upper West Side, she says, “that was the first time I ever felt like I was part of a community. You would walk down the street and see people you knew, and they would ask if you were going to be at such-and-such event and could you bring food or perform. It was a dynamic moment. We were crossing borderlines, and the music helped us to do that.”

THE LEGACY The intensity of purpose and activity during this period succeed in reshaping academic, cultural, and political institutions. It also gave rise to ideological conflicts and violence that sometimes destabilized organizations and efforts. For instance, Basement Workshop was shaken internally by the accusations and criticisms of members of the Communist Workers Party. And several months after A Grain of Sand was recorded, Atallah was killed in an ambush at a Brooklyn mosque.

Charlie remembers, “We were all moving so rapidly…. Everyone believed that things could be changed if you worked on it. We in our very young innocence thought that there actually would be a revolution in this country. I assured people it would happen. And when it didn’t, I felt bad: ‘Sorry, man’, ‘Sorry, dude.’”

By late 1973 when A Grain of Sand was released, Chris, Nobuko, and Charlie were beginning to hone their sense of purpose in ways that drew them in different directions. And the album marks, in effect, one of the group’s final collective efforts, though each in their own way continued the work they had started together.

Nobuko returned to southern California. In 1978, she established the organization Great Leap, Inc., through which she initiates multicultural community performing arts collaborations in Los Angeles, as well as nationally and internationally. She continues to perform, lecture, and provide workshops based on her new music as well as on reinterpretations of the songs from A Grain of Sand. In recent years her residencies and special projects have focused on facilitating dialog across spiritual differences and on environmental issues. Active in the Senshin Buddhist Temple, she has composed music and dances that are now a regular part of the annual Buddhist observance of obon (Festival of Lanterns) in temples from California’s Central Valley to San Diego and nationally.

Charlie focused his attention in New York’s Chinatown, becoming involved in the Chinatown History Project, which became the Museum of Chinese in the Americas. He later apprenticed to a master Chinese storyteller, learning the traditional teahouse style, which he has adapted and continues to perform throughout the country. In 1991, he moved to northern California, and he now works for the Chinese Historical Society of America in San Francisco, driven by the conviction that “we know that people can be whipped into hysteria and xenophobia—we’ve seen it happen before, and it could happen again. And the only thing you can do is be vigilant and educate, educate, educate.”

Chris directed his energies to New York’s Upper West Side, where he had grown up. After 10 years of classroom teaching at Manhattan Country School, he studied and practiced law, and later became a professor in Hawai`i, where he fought for Native Hawaiian rights and mentored a generation of social justice–minded law students. He passed away in 2005 at the age of 57.

In the years just before Chris’s passing, Tadashi Nakamura, a young fourth-generation Japanese American filmmaker, began producing a documentary about him, A Song for Ourselves: A Personal Journey into the Life and Music of Asian American Movement Troubadour Chris Iijima. His film is an inspiring and melancholy portrait of Chris, covering his participation in A Grain of Sand, his reflection on his life as he confronted terminal illness, and the impact he had on others. For the film’s premiere in 2009, Nakamura invited Nobuko and Charlie to perform—and he also enlisted several young hip-hop artists. He explains: “Grain of Sand paved the way for many progressive Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders [API] to not only become musicians but cultural workers—artists who use their creativity to further a political movement. I feel very much a part of a present-day movement of API artists that are trying to document, articulate, and tell the stories of their people through their work. A talented new set of artists—such as Geologic and Sabzi of Blue Scholars, Kiwi, Bambu and DJ Phatrick—are creating the soundtrack to my generation’s movement. They are continuing the work that Chris, Nobuko, and Charlie started back in the 1960s. So when I premiered my film, I invited them to perform. I wanted to show that the legacy of A Grain of Sand is very much alive today.”

[chicagoindiecritics]

New from Every Movie Has a Lesson by Don Shanahan: MOVIE REVIEW: The King of Staten Island

(Image courtesy of Universal Pictures)

THE KING OF STATEN ISLAND— 2 STARS

The “semi” in front of the “semi-autobiographical” label for Pete Davidson’s quarter-life crisis movie memoir The King of Staten Island is both ambiguous and chancy. Formally, the prefix is meant to signify “half” while it often means “partially,” “incompletely,” and “somewhat.” The adjunct is fitting. At its fullest and best, Judd Apatow’s newest dramedy coming to VOD on June 12th is a collection of half-hearted beats and half-witted mischief. That’s it. Just half.

Pete Davidson’s proxy character is Scott Carlin, a 24-year-old slacker resident of the Shaolin borough of New York City. His firefighter father died on the job when he was seven, leaving behind him, his college-bound younger sister Claire (Maud Apatow), and their tough cookie single mother Margie (Oscar winner Marisa Tomei). Described at one point as looking like an “anorexic panda” with his paleness and swollen eyes, the young man-child still squatting with his mother has a list of issues longer than the grocery list of a glutton.

The wavering medications treating his ADD and depression combine with the calamitous coping chemistry of weed, risks, and impulsive decisions to keep Scott crawling through disappointing existence. He has a trio of stoned buddies (Ricky Velez, Lou Wilson, and Moises Arias), a steady lay (The Diary of a Teenage Girl’s Bel Powley, in a bit of thankless girlfriend role) who wants a real relationship, and a festering aspiration to be a tattoo artist. Add in a glass jaw, low alcoholic constitution, flare-ups of Crohn’s disease, a smart mouth, and a flippant lack of care or awareness and you have Scott Carlin. When his mother begins dating another firefighter (comedian Bill Burr), Scott’s blurry selfish foresight sets off a new downward spiral. 

LESSON #1: DON’T EVER ASK “WHAT DID I DO?”— Time and again, Scott is either high, clueless, irresponsible, or all three for his words and action. His favorite cop-out is the pleading of “I’m still figuring shit out.” However, if you have to ask what you did when both the initial choice and the predictably bad aftermath are so painfully obvious for their wrongness then the problem is most certainly you.

LESSON #2: YOUR FAMILY IS BOUND TO ITS WORST MEMBER— Folks often talk about someone being the “glue” within the family, the person that holds everyone together. Scott’s stickiness is more like the unpleasant kind you don’t want and cannot wash off. He and his issues are immovable and hold others back. His family members can’t change unless he does too. That’s a bit of the wrong and unstable kind of adhesive unity. 

LESSON #3: “THE PAIN IS THE POINT”— The repetitive sting of a tattoo artist’s needle is the cost to be paid for the (hopefully) beautiful and meaningful piece of body art that will remain for the rest of one’s life. Other pains in life have a purpose and prices as well. The point of living through, with, and beyond those pains is the resilience to become better. Some people make it to that point and others don’t. Pete Davidson and his surrogate self Scott Carlin are in that arduous cycle. 

Auto-biopics, as one could call them, are challenging undertakings. Their persuasion levels are all over the place. On one end, you have attention-craving glamour projects for the vain. On the other, there can be a respectable level of grounded legitimacy and courage to see the subject put themselves in front of a camera or audience to tell their story. The good or bad result, depending on the power of the story being shared, is either a bared soul or a cry for help.

The King of Staten Island feels quite loudly like both of those and that’s problematic. It is a 137-minute tribute to family, fathers, and firefighters with all of their heroics and dysfunction. It is a 137-minute chronicle of a shitty person being repetitively irresponsible until outside wisdom arrives with tidy and convenient character correction. It is also a 137-minute apology from a headcase sort of admitting his faults while still selfishly granting a sunny storybook ending. This film wants all three, tries all three, and that excessive storytelling is more a burden than a bounty. 

Either way this whatever-you-now-want-to-call-it biopic is entirely too long from a large team of extremely talented people who are too good for this material written by the director, the star, and a polish from Saturday Night Live vet Dave Sirus. Somehow, three editors for The King of Staten Island, three-time Oscar nominee Jay Cassidy (twice for David O. Russell works), William Kerr (Bridesmaids), and Brian Scott Olds (Central Intelligence) couldn’t trim paper with a welding torch. Honing is missing in both storytelling, comedy, and pacing. 

In a lightly commendable fashion, director Judd Apatow downshifts from the massive A-list ensembles he has been making for quite some time into this smaller single-subject project with lesser stars. He brought pedigree with him. Prolific Academy Award-winning Robert Elswit helps make the hazy basements and middle-class muck of Staten Island look like paradise. Elswit is overqualified but appreciated in doing wonders to make the star look like the star even when he’s not one.

This is the unfiltered and unbridled Pete Davidson you don’t see falling into the background of skits and bits on Saturday Night Live. If you have seen his recent Netflix stand-up special Pete Davidson: Alive in New York, that was just a taste of the forthright melancholy and madness capable of coming out of his mind and mouth. No one is going to call this range, but, as Scott, Davidson has comebacks, smiles, and, more notably, anxieties for anything and everything fed to him from his co-stars and screen partners. You either shake your head as his buffoonery or you pause in mild reflection. It’s rarely both and, again, just half.

LOGO DESIGNED BY MEENTS ILLUSTRATED (#885)

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[allisonswrittenwords]

Ah, the 1980s.  When stuff like a man/woman-sized Rainbow Brite and equally-man/woman-sized characters running around a zoo as camera crews filmed the action were not for social media and YouTube.

I mean, you find that stuff on YouTube these days, but in the 1980s, legitimate home video companies released these films onto a paying public.

Last week, I talked about the history of Vestron Video, and its children/family sub-label, Children’s Video Library.  The label was responsible for, among other franchises, the home video releases of everything related to Rainbow Brite.  From the thirteen episode television series, as well as both live action “human-sized Rainbow Brite with a non-moving mouth and giant head” specials.  In fact, the only part of the franchise they didn’t have a hand in was Rainbow’s 1985 feature film, Rainbow Brite and the Star Stealer.�� One of the live action specials was the nightmarish It’s Your Birthday! (I covered that on my previous blog in October 2014), and the other was an equally nightmarish trip to the San Diego Zoo.

Now, you’re probably thinking “Rainbow Brite at the zoo?  Sounds great!”

Well, if people in costumes parading around a zoo, little kids imitating animals, and a random animal fact narrator hijacking the “plot” every so often sound great to you, then…perhaps you should keep your excitement in check.

Because the two kids in the movie simply cannot.

Just Another Day At the Zoo…Or Is It?

Image: Internet Movie Database (IMDb)

Rainbow Brite’s San Diego Zoo Adventure is a 1986 direct-to-video special featuring that human-sized Rainbow Brite costume that showed up in Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parades for a few years in the 1980s.  You know the one – dead eyes, barely moving mouth, same yarn hair my Rainbow Brite doll has.  Her and her equally ginormous sprite, Twink, arrive at the Zoo at the insistence of two children, Pete and Tracy, as they realize the zoo’s animals are losing their colors.

Guess who is making that happen?

Yup, Murky Dismal (“The Despicable Desperado from the Depths of Gloom Land”) and his sidekick, Snuffalupugus – er, I mean – Lurky.  Unlike Rainbow Brite, whose mouth just barely moves, Murky and Lurky’s mouths don’t move at all.  But that doesn’t matter – Murky’s got a “gousaphone” that will turn the San Diego zoo’s animals gray…and a plan to trap Rainbow Brite and steal her Color Belt.

Pete and Tracy happen to be close, personal friends of Rainbow Brite, so as soon as they realize something is up, they work hard to summon Rainbow Brite to the zoo.  Except it plays out like Benny Hill.

I wish I were kidding.

Upload via RainbowBriteCo (I queued the video to the start of that moment)

Murky and Lurky arrive at the zoo, and bicker as they always do.

They disguise themselves at tourists at the zoo (super convincingly, of course) and discuss their plan to remove the animals’ color and bring them to Murky’s planned un-amusement park…after they capture Rainbow Brite, of course.

There’s singing, there’s dancing, there’s portions of this video devoid of color, and there’s animals!

Can Rainbow Brite save the day, rid the San Diego Zoo of Murky and Lurky, and restore all the color?  Will she need some help?

I mean, you have watched the cartoon before, right?  Rainbow Brite always saves the day, even if she needs a little help!

In a subplot of the video, ZooNooz facts are interspersed throughout the adventure to provide facts on different animals.  The narration, provided by voice actress Lucille Bliss, screams of fake enthusiasm.  I mean, she probably was enthusiastic, but the narration just feels…forced.

So, what is this “ZooNooz” thing?

ZooNooz

Ah yes, the seemingly unrelated ZooNooz segments.

So, these segments were part of San Diego Zoo’s official publication, ZooNooz.  Several segments pop up during the course of the adventure to give facts about the animals.  The segments explain how flamingos get their color, why polar bears have hair on their feet, how koalas aren’t actually bears, and animal camouflage.  The segments break in during the course of the adventure, and while it initially detracts from the story, seemingly bringing it to a screeching halt, they are important after the adventure, in a six-minute recap of the “educational portion” of Rainbow Brite.

Any time a ZooNooz segment starts, the super cool 1980s chyron pops up on the screen.

The actual story portion of the video runs 35 minutes, with the ZooNooz recap and pop quiz on the animals featured in the video comprising the last six minutes of the video.  Might as well stick around for the education part, you got this far!

My Take On Rainbow Brite’s San Diego Zoo Adventure

I know I’m throwing around a lot of adult crankiness with this.  I needed to remind myself that while 37-year-old Allison loves Rainbow Brite, but finds this little tidbit of nostalgia bizarre, four-year-old Allison loved Rainbow Brite AND would have gone nuts just seeing a giant Rainbow Brite walking around a zoo!

As a four-year-old, this would have excited me – seeing Rainbow Brite wandering around a really nice zoo and throwing star sprinkles everywhere.  The music would have gotten my attention too, since I wasn’t always an adult cynic questioning my rose-colored glasses-clad childhood memories.

After all, I did dress up like Rainbow Brite for Halloween.  So my heart must still be the tiniest bit soft.

In actuality, I can see the appeal with San Diego Zoo Adventure – it is fun to watch.  Is it slightly over-the-top and cheesy?  Yes, absolutely!  Isn’t everything of this type in retrospect?  Yes!  However, where the Birthday video is just terrifyingly bad, this actually was fun to watch.  I laughed a little too hard at the acting efforts of the kids playing Pete and Tracy, but that’s expected when you’re an adult revisiting your childhood.  No four-year-old notices acting skills (or lack thereof), adults do (ok, cynical adults who actually care do!).  The only real annoyance for me was the narration – it just was not necessary.  I mean sure, the ZooNooz segments required explanation, since there were facts being discussed, but the action in the video pretty much speaks for itself.  That was truly the one thing that bothered me about this.

Incredible.  Of everything that I believe could have been flawed with this whole thing, narration put me off.

Of course, I always go back to the costumes.  Clearly, these costumes were put to good use when they weren’t part of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade (which Rainbow was part of in 1984 and 1985), but they’re kind of nightmare fuel.  The actual movements of the eyes and mouth are minimal (the eyes blink, and the mouth just barely moves), but the head is just…so big.  It is huge!

The Murky and Lurky costumes, as well as Twink, are even more minimal.  There is no movement.  Eyes, mouth, nothing.  No movement.

And I totally forgot what Twink sounded like, but I didn’t think it was the voice version of a deflating balloon.  Honestly, I kept expecting Twink’s voice actor to start choking.

In all, Rainbow Brite’s San Diego Zoo Adventure is a nice diversion.  Considering the state of everything right now, a little diversion, especially when it is the childhood nostalgia kind, is never a bad thing.  If you’ve got, at a minimum, 36 minutes to spare today (I did in the name of “research,” so you can too), why not enjoy a little childhood diversion.

And if you can spare the extra 5-6 minutes, stick around for the ZooNooz segment at the end.

Upload via Rainbow Brite Episodes

So, all this “rescuing the zoo” stuff was fun, but where exactly did Murky and Lurky wind up as a result?

Wow.

Why do I feel like this is what happened to the costumes after the Rainbow Brite excitement died down?

Have a magical day…at the zoo!

  Exloring The San Diego Zoo...With Rainbow Brite! - Giant costumed character with barely-moving mouths invade the San Diego Zoo, while a drowsy-sounding narrator tells the tale! The 1980s were, in fact, magical. Ah, the 1980s.  When stuff like a man/woman-sized Rainbow Brite and equally-man/woman-sized characters running around a zoo as camera crews filmed the action were not for social media and YouTube.

[disappearingground]

Something Borrowed, Something New: The Perfect Union of Jenny Lewis and Elvis Costello

Filter Magazine November 22, 2008

Something Borrowed, Something New: The Perfect Union of Jenny Lewis and Elvis Costello

By Chris Martins

He strides into the room seeming impossibly tall and endlessly poised. In a silk scarf and all black, he looks as sharp as his wit has ever been, and downright Dickensian, as if the word “doff” was invented solely for use in reference to the hat sitting on his head. At 54, he’s got the perfect dappling of salt-and-pepper scruff, which frames a pair of lips in a perpetual mischievous grin, ever the unambiguous counterpoint to those trademark square-framed specs. Elvis is in the building—Costello, of course—and it’s enough to keep Jenny Lewis on her toes.

Well, somewhat. She’s sitting, currently, getting a light dusting of blush before the next round of photographs with her avuncular counterpart, but her dainty feet are neatly propped by a pair of light brown pumps. Los Angeles’ favorite daughter, our eternal indie darling regardless of her record label, is rightly stunning in a red dress and feathered cap, and as Lewis moves through the room, she hardly disturbs the air. Whether this is out of respect to the dust or due to an innate grace is unclear, but to not stare—at either of this pair—is to miss history in the making.

The duet is nothing new to music. Neither is the appearance of an elder statesman on the album of a young star for posterity, nor the reverse for the sake of a little shined-up sparkle. But when a legend with three decades and 34 albums to his hallowed name is coaxed out of retirement by the sheer energy experienced in a day of studio time with an inspired young songwriter, momentousness abounds. Last October, Costello told MOJO magazine he wasn’t “of a mind to record any more,” that the MP3 had “dismantled the intended shape of an album” and that fans could hear him live or not at all, essentially.

But on April 22, Costello sneaked out his 35th album, and a few days later issued the following via his website: “Some of you may have heard rumours of an album called Momofuku… [which] came about because of an invitation I received from Jenny Lewis to sing on her upcoming record.” He’d changed his mind. “That’s what I do,” he added. “The record was made so quickly that I didn’t even tell myself about it for two weeks.” His story only added to buzz surrounding an unnamed Lewis solo album reportedly recorded in organic and speedy contrast to Rilo Kiley’s 2007 LP, Under the Blacklight. Costello’s record was effectively a carry-over of Lewis’ January session, and he’d named it after the inventor of Cup Noodles because “all we had to do… was add water.”

Acid Tongue is now out, and it could be Lewis’ most immediate work yet. An all-analog rock and roll record that sears as much as it sways, the follow-up to 2006’s Rabbit Fur Coat trades in the alt-country scenery for further breadth and depth. Its sound is richer—a soulful mix of Southern-Gothic stomp, saturated balladry and campfire strum—and its inspiration digs deeper, with Lewis putting her pretty croon to use against the messy topics of sex, drugs, love, travel, illness and family. Sometimes she sings in character; in other moments, she’s addressing the very people recording with her: live-in beau Johnathan Rice, who co-wrote much of Acid Tongue; or her father, Eddie Gordon, a harmonica virtuoso estranged from Lewis until his recent cancer diagnosis reunited them.

Likewise, Costello’s Momofuku sounds refreshed, thanks in no small part to Lewis’ rag-tag gang. Though a few of her guests (Zooey Deschanel, M. Ward, and Rilo’s Jason Boesel among them) had evacuated Van Nuys’ Sound City Studios by the time Costello arrived, the “vocal supergroup” that lent his record so much of its particular vigor is also the core lineup behind Acid Tongue: Lewis, Rice, Dave Scher (Beachwood Sparks), and Jonathan Wilson (formerly of Eisley), along with Costello’s bassist Davey Faragher. Momofuku is another sound entry in Costello’s post-millennial rock catalogue, seething with the attitude and urgency he’d rediscovered with 2002’s When I Was Cruel. His own band, The Imposters, might have something to do with that as well: keyboardist Steve Nieve and drummer Pete Thomas have been playing with Costello since 1978—though not without the occasional break or falling out.

Truth be told, Costello has been threatening retirement since he was 26, according to his own liner notes for the Rykodisc reissue of 1981’s Trust (though when asked about it today, he asks back: “Did I say that?”). And more than their mutual passion for detailed narratives, heartful ballads and, now, double drummers (read on), Costello and Lewis share the kind of creative restlessness that can make or break a career. They approach each record anew, band members be damned; she pushed on by the persistent fear that one day her well will run dry, and he without enough time in the day to tend to the flood.

Will Costello quit? Not likely. He’s touring like a teenager these days, has a variety show debuting on Sundance Channel, and is finishing up a new album with T-Bone Burnett. Will Rilo Kiley split? It doesn’t matter. Lewis remains, and anyway, that’s a subject for another article at another time.

As we sit down to talk in one of the odd little atriums that dot a large woodsy yard, Elvis Costello removes his hat, while his unflagging cool and smirk remain. At his left, sharing a small divan, Jenny Lewis appears more petite than usual and a little bit nervous, despite the fact that she’s directly responsible for Elvis’ return to the studio. It’s hard not to marvel at the sight.

A conversation with Elvis Costello and Jenny Lewis

The beginning is a fine place to start… How did you two meet? Elvis Costello: It was mainly the doing of Tennessee Thomas [drummer for The Like]. The Imposters and I were down in Mississippi recording The Delivery Man, and Pete Thomas said his daughter had hipped him to [Rilo Kiley’s 2004 album] More Adventurous. He played me the record and I thought it was fantastic. [To Lewis] I think I got your number and called you.

Out of the blue? Jenny Lewis: Oh, yeah. My phone rang and I didn’t recognize the number. I picked it up and it was Elvis. I truly thought it must have been some sort of mean prank. Costello: I was in this cottage I was renting right by the woods where Faulkner used to walk. It was quite a good spot and I had a lot of time to listen to records. I became a fan, and when Jenny made her first solo record…it was a different world. The storytelling on that album is amazing.

So you instantly thought, “This young talent needs to be in my new music video.” Costello: [Laughs] We filmed the “Monkey to Man” video in L.A., at the old Ambassador Hotel, and I thought it’d be funny if Jenny walked across the set like she’d gotten lost while on a Universal Studios tour. Lewis: The awkward walk-by. Clutching my purse. Sweat on my brow. Costello: We’d decided the video would be populated by girls in bikinis and people in monkey suits. It was very tasteful; we were going for the feminist vote.

…And then one day in January, Jenny called you? Costello: And then it was fun for the whole family. I was at home in Vancouver and The Imposters’ bassist Davey Faragher—he lives in Southern California and was in the studio with Jenny—called and asked if I would sing a song on her new record. Lewis: And I emailed you a clip of myself, Johnathan Rice and a puppet doing “Carpetbaggers.” Costello: Obviously, I was being asked to do the puppet’s part. I told ’em I loved the song, but I thought I would sing it differently than the puppet.

So you flew out to record. At what point did you decide to stay and make a record? Costello: I didn’t stay actually. We cut “Carpetbaggers” in three takes, and the band didn’t have anything planned for the rest of that day. So I said, “Maybe we can cut something of mine.” I had two songs—“Go Away” and “Drum & Bone,” which I’d written literally the night before—and we just laid them down, Jenny and I in that little vocal booth, I’m playing rhythm guitar with a line out to the hallway, she’s reading the lyrics off a piece of paper. And I couldn’t believe it—she nailed every line. Lewis: I was thinking, “This is your big shot, kid, don’t blow it.” Costello: I had decided I was done with recording. Everything I’d have to do after the release of a record was making me miserable, but working with them reminded me of the bits that I liked. A week later, back in Vancouver, I called everybody up and said, “That was too good—let’s do it again.” That’s when the vocal group came together. Davey is the only person in The Imposters who can sing, and with The Attractions, I used to track myself for all the vocals. These guys were coming up with killer parts, and the will to do them, at 11 p.m. We made the record in six days, with the same live feeling as Jenny’s. Lewis: I was so impressed with your pace. Is that how you’ve recorded in the past? Costello: I think bands make more of a meal of it now because they can. We’re all guilty of it. I recorded Spike [1989] in four cities [Dublin, London, New Orleans, Los Angeles]; I had a ridiculous budget. But it’s gone around in one big circle—my first record [My Aim is True] was made in just 24 hours of studio time. The second album [This Year’s Model] took 11 days. We thought we were being decadent taking three weeks for Armed Forces, and with Imperial Bedroom, we were making our big statement in the studio, hiring harpsichords and glockenspiels: “Let’s take six entire weeks!” Now you hear of bands spending six months on a single.

Acid Tongue was done at an impressive clip as well, Jenny. What inspired you to make that record in only three weeks’ time? Lewis: I think everything I do is a reaction to the thing before it. Having come out from under the polished intention of Under the Blacklight—which took quite a bit longer—I just wanted the vibe to run the show. I was finally able to connect with a band and have it go down like a live performance. It was really liberating. Costello: There’s nowhere to hide in that room. When you listen to Acid Tongue, there’s nothing there. It’s just a voice and a couple of instruments, and it works perfectly. The more you went on with the record, the more confidence you seemed to gain. To open with “Black Sand”… it’s the kind of confidence that marks great records. You know, “How could they open with that? That’s ridiculous!” But soon you can’t live without it.

You’re both artists who have continued to surprise us over the years, approaching each album with different angles, different sounds and, often, different bands. Is creative restlessness part of what makes a great—or at least an enduring—artist? Costello: I think too much is made of it—like it’s some sort of puzzle where eventually the pieces will all fit and there’ll be this big, smiling picture of Jenny going, “I told you so.” The reality is: that was just the way the artist was feeling at that moment, and now you’re in danger of missing what’s actually being said and the genuine feelings that are in those songs. It’s a trap that journalists fall into, which funnily enough never comes up with groups that have a strong, signature sound. It just doesn’t occur to anybody to compare their records: “This one’s got all those things that we already love!” Lewis: All I know is that I just tend to get a little bored and I like to try new things. And, really, anything is good subject matter for a song. But I don’t think that quality is exclusive to “the good artist.” Costello: Van Morrison has a signature sound, for instance, but he’s a singular artist. I don’t know that there’s one better way to do it. When I was younger, I was guilty of being more confrontational for the sake of getting attention, saying things like, “We’re here to completely ruin your life!” [Laughs] It’s true there was some dull music out there and we were coming along with a bit of attitude—trying to get it right, where just playing was really the thing—but tearing others down wasn’t the intention.

Neither of you have shied away from expressing the deeply personal on record, and you’ve dealt with an array of reactions to your public persona, from fan adoration to being dissected by the press. How does one stay level through all this? Costello: It’s true that since the mid ’60s, people have based their songwriting more overtly on their life’s experience than, say, Ira Gershwin did. In his day, they wrote songs that faded to black when the stickier subjects of love—physical love in particular—came up. But with people like Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell, that started to change. That was passed on to the next generation, then the next generation, then to me, then to Jenny, and we’re writing about these things that are increasingly raw. Fair or not, people associate you with these songs, and to whatever extent that you’re putting your experiences in there, your mistakes are in public view. Your heart is broken, the band splits, you find a new way to go in life, you have a drug problem, you sober up. There’s a fascination with human frailty and an entire industry that makes entertainment out of it. I got disenchanted when I was younger, but then I realized that’s just show business, and show business is based on the Menudo principal: They kick you out of the band when you’re 18 and get someone else to appeal to the 11-year-old girls who, in turn, hit 15 and peel off to go to the new thing. That’s not real life. Lewis: I’ve just started, over the last couple of years, to receive feedback in that way, as well as from people that assume songs are about them, and it’s all very uncomfortable. I still don’t know what to make of it, and I try not to acknowledge it. I’d rather just write songs without having to think about where they’ll end up or who will be offended. Costello: I’ve gone through my less glorious periods and other times where I’ve felt on top of the world, but it’s important to remember: You’re not living in real time by writing songs. Even if you think you’re writing the honest diary of your love affair, you’re not—you’re writing an edited version of it. Otherwise the album would be 20-years long.

So, 2003’s North, for instance… Costello: North is a very specific album about recognizing the end of one way of living and the beginning of another, but it’s a song-written explanation of what it felt like to go through that. It’s not the same thing, and it certainly doesn’t take into account the feelings of the other people involved. Art is selfish; it’s not a democracy, not even in a band. But if you’re smart, you take the best of what people bring you—to a collaborative form like recording, for instance. I was just the beneficiary of that, when Jenny said, “Why don’t we get Tennessee in here to play with Pete?” Lewis: The fantastic father-daughter drumming duo. Costello: I never knew that was going to sound so good. Next thing I knew, we had a record. And you know, Tennessee joined us onstage at the El Rey in Los Angeles after we played the Hollywood Bowl with The Police. I’ve been turning around to see Pete playing behind me for 30 years, and I look back that night and see him and his daughter. I’ve known her since she was born but, more than being a matter of pride, it just sounded fantastic. [To Lewis] Thank you for that.

Which is your favorite song from each other’s new album? Lewis: “Go Away,” because it was the first. Costello: “Godspeed,” because it’s got such beautiful melody and mood. I was startled the first time I heard it. I also love the long, multi-parted songs like “The Next Messiah,” and I think “Sing a Song for Them,” the up-tempo one at the end of the album, is tremendous. And of course, “Carpetbaggers,” because we got to do that together. I also like the other version of it that we cut—a live take with the double drummers …

So basically, you like everything, including the outtakes. Costello: “Godspeed” is definitely my favorite, but I’m attracted to ballads, so you’re asking the wrong guy. I mean, I really love ballads—more than any other kind of music. Lewis: I actually wasn’t going to include “Trying My Best to Love You” because I was worried about Acid Tongue being too ballad-heavy—I wanted it to rock more than Rabbit Fur Coat—but Elvis was so set on it being on the record that I included it.

Elvis, were you impressed with Jenny’s use of double entendre for the album title? Costello: [Laughs] Old habits die hard. F

[lauraramargosian]

Pete Davidson killed it on SNL with his music video!

Pete Davidson, the cast and crew killed it on SNL this year.

The 44th season finale of Saturday Night Live was perfect.

If you haven’t been under a rock then you know Pete Davidson is literally one of the fan-favorite stars on Saturday Night Live!

Yesterday, he had a dope skit called “Grace and Frankie,” featuring DJ Khaled You’ll be sure to laugh at the lyrics and see Davidson giving his best performance as always.

After that skit, I’m not too far in saying, Pete Davidson could rap, no doubt. I mean, he did do an epic GoT tribute using his rap skills for the season finale.

Saturday Night Live is truly ending season 44 with the best of the best. Davidson also is seen in another one of SNL’s skits called “What’s wrong with this picture?”

To be specific, the winner will get a “Toyota Beef,” the first car for big boys (lol).

Group picture of of he 44th season finale on SNL via Instagram.

For example, they show a picture and the “contestants,” have to guess what’s wrong with it. The host tells them “something is missing in this picture.”

Steven (Pete Davidson) takes a guess at the mystery picture.

“Their siblings who know they shouldn’t have kissed.”

Gina guessed that the boy in the picture was “pointing at her butt door.”

But, let’s stop there we don’t want to spoil the whole skit, it’s hilarious.

Further, the show featured DJ Khaled and Lil Wayne. Both of them had energy, got the audience singing with their hands in the sky.

Get this, then we see Big Sean jumps on stage, what a surprise performance on SNL!

It’s sweet to see everybody having a great time wrapping up season 4 of Saturday Night Live. If you haven’t seen the most recent episode you can still catch it on Hulu!

Further, Pete Davidson truly (if it were a thing) get an award for most inspirational. Like you and I, we all have our battles and this man takes to any stage and makes the damn best of a job he loves.

Most importantly, screw the tabloids, it’s actions that a show a person’s real positive vibes and Positive Celebrity is truly proud of Davidson.

This man has shown us how to stay strong during times of anxiety, he’s inspired those with Crohn’s and most importantly, he has always focused on doing what he loves, making people laugh.

Action over words, always and forever.

Next, we have Leslie Jones best known for her fan-favorite role in Orange is the New Black.

In fact, she wasn’t sure she would get the role. but her hard work proved otherwise, it’s refreshing to see Leslie Jones on SNL every Saturday night.

She’s one inspiring woman and loves her family, friends and fans endlessly.

Leslie Jones on the 44th season finale of SNL!

Leslie Jones teaches us to stay positive during hard times!

You know, Saturday Night Live may be a comedic show but the writers, the crew, the talent, the musicians, they all work hard to help inspire the world with laughter.

There have been some who feel the show is just a “trolling marketing scheme,” but that’s far from the truth.

The show has always made talent feel accepted and loved. Talent who visit the show will even talk about charity at times.

So, maybe it’s that hour of laughter on Saturday nights that make a difference to all its fans.

SNL: Mothers Day and the Jonas Brothers!

As Chelsea Handler says, “if you can make someone laugh, you can make someone listen.”

Indeed it’s SNL’s 44th season finale.

I mean, this year, SNL has been full of the best skits.

With this in mind, be sure to check positive celebrities favorite highlights below. What was your favorite skit or performance of the show?

Finally, sound off in the comments below.

Since you love the positive vibes, you can stay up-to-date on the latest positive celebrity gossip and entertainment news by giving us a thumbs up on Facebook.

Lastly, if you prefer, you can subscribe to our Newsletter and stay tuned, the 45th season of Saturday Night Live will begin in the fall of 2019.

Blessed be and enjoy the gallery!

GoT tribute on Saturday Night Live with Pete Davidson

What’s Wrong with This Picture? – SNL

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Positive Celebrity Gossip - Laurara Monique

Laurara Monique is known by various celebrities as the youngest and kindest celebrity blogger. PCG has been described as a "celebrity safe zone."

Positive Celebrity Gossip - Laurara Monique shared a post.

Fantasy is all about giving you the best experience whether you are attending with a date, spouse or friends. It doesn’t matter YOU WILL HAVE A GREAT TIME! #ShowsinLasVegas #TheLuxor #Fantasy #Classy #Fun and #entertaining

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VegasNET Media

Watch interview here >> https://vegasnetmedia.com/cms/portfolio/lorena-peril/ #VegasNETmedia #TheStripLive #MariaNgo #RayDuGray Lorena Peril & Girls of Fantasy (showcase), Keep Memory Alive, Power of Love Gala 2019, MGM Grand Las Vegas http://TheStripLIVE.com | LAS VEGAS | Media Showcase | Media interview with Lorena Peril (Las Vegas headliner) and Girls of Fantasy on THE STRIP LIVE celebrity talk show for VegasNETmedia.com | Director's cut Join celebrity talk show producers and media coaches Maria Ngo and Ray DuGray as they showcase Lorena Peril and the girls of Fantasy on location at the Power of Love Gala for Keep Memory Alive charity inside MGM Grand Las Vegas. In this media interview, Lorena Peril and the girls of FANTASY share some tips on how they keep their minds and bodies fit. To watch more media interviews showcasing success stories from top celebrities entrepreneurs, and industry experts live from Las Vegas and around the world, visit https://VegasNETmedia.com. ABOUT LORENA PERIL Las Vegas headliner Lorena Peril has been entertaining audiences on the Strip for years. She headlines as the Lead Singer in Anita Mann’s hit production "FANTASY" at the Luxor Hotel and Casino. The self-taught performer starred in "Sin City Bad Girls" at the Las Vegas Hilton and performed as the Lead Principle in "American Superstars" at the Stratosphere Hotel and Casino. -- LorenaPeril.com

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Positive Celebrity Gossip - Laurara Monique shared a post.

Love you all!

Laura Margosian

Just love, I get mad too sometimes, hurt even. But in life, you gotta love endlessly. Not everything goes as planned but patience is key. Be proud of your successes. Small and big. Above all, be proud of others as well, encourage them to keep up the good work. Envision that check in the mail, or that job offer. I don't know who needs to hear this.... But I felt like sharing, so, here it is, keep up the good work friends. I'm pretty proud of all my friends, family and ALL of my stranger friends who lurk.

Blessed be.

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Seriously, that is one great show!

See You Yesterday: Captivating Time Travel Fantasy!

See You Yesterday: Captivating Time Travel Fantasy, check it out right here on positive celebrity gossip and entertainment news!

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Positive Celebrity Gossip - Laurara Monique

Justin Bieber and Hails are just like us. Haha, those videos are cute.

Justin and Hails taught us what love endures, they inspire.

Justin and Hails taught us what love endures, they inspire. Justin Bieber and Hailey Bieber are incredibly adorable. Over the last few months, they have shared such awesome stories and pictures wit…

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Positive Celebrity Gossip - Laurara Monique

"Everywhere Judy goes, chaos follows." Rating: 9/10 This has to be one of the funniest/real life series I've watched this year. There wasn't a moment I couldn't relate to the feelings that someone has during grief, moments of laughter and many other qualities a series should have to keep ya.... In-da,couch #DeadtoMe #ChristinaAppleGate #LindaCardellini, #JamesMarsden and #MaxJenkinsw #dramedy

Netflix: Dead to Me is binge-worthy and quite surprising!

What exactly happens when two gals become best friends but one of them is holding onto the heart-wrenching secret about Jen’s husbands hit and run? Check it out right here on positive celebrity go…

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High School Musical 4 continues filming Utah and Positive Celebrity has learned about the new film and series. #HighSchoolMusical4

High School Musical 4 continues filming Utah and what we know!

High School Musical 4 continues filming Utah and Positive Celebrity has learned about the new film and series. Image from IMDB. Disney announced that High School Musical 4 series, as of late, there…

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Remembering a Rock ‘n’ Roll Legend

Rock N Roll pioneer Chuck Berry performs live at Madison Square Garden on October 15, 1971 in New York City, New York. (Photo by Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images)

While there are very few instances where one person might be credited for spawning an entire genre of music, Chuck Berry and rock ‘n’ roll are about as close as these things ever get.

In that great big, unimaginable Rock ‘N’ Roll Family Tree that would be impossible for famed U.K. rock chronicler Pete Frame to draw without an infinite supply of pen, paper, and hands, you can just imagine Berry — who passed away Saturday at age 90 — at the very top, with downward tributaries leading to the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, and the Beach Boys, among many others. And yes, those three bands would have their own enormous share of musical descendants beneath them, but always, inescapably, Chuck would be perched at the apex.

The history is well known. The Beatles covered Berry’s “Roll Over Beethoven”; the Stones’ very first single was a version of Berry’s “Come On”; and the Beach Boys’ “Surfin’ U.S.A.” was Berry’s “Sweet Little Sixteen” bearing brand-new, even more topical lyrics.

All of this came in one year, mind you — 1963. And an entire generation of budding rock ‘n’ rollers then danced, sang, and in many cases played their own instruments alongside those songs, those bands, and that irresistible, rhythmic beat. The clever words, the inimitable guitar chords and licks, and the unmistakable attitude that powered those songs came from Berry, and that’s never changed.

But it didn’t start from scratch. There was a wonderful continuity in what came before with Berry — the interaction of players and figures of another generation making it all happen. In the mid-‘50s, Chuck Berry spent his days as a beautician and his nights as a musician. He was looking for career advice, and in 1955, he got it from no less than blues titan Muddy Waters. Waters put Berry in contact with the legendary Leonard Chess, owner of Chess Records, who listened to Berry’s demo tape, heard the track “Ida Red,” and suggested he change its name to “Maybellene.” Berry did, Chess signed him, and… bang.

The songs that followed are almost laughably familiar — iconic expressions in our contemporary culture. Consider the following songs, all Berry’s, and tell me if every single one might not plausibly be a teen movie title: “Roll Over Beethoven,” “Too Much Monkey Business,” “You Can’t Catch Me,” “Rock and Roll Music,” “Sweet Little Sixteen,” “Johnny B. Goode,” “Beautiful Delilah,” “Almost Grown,” “Back in the U.S.A.,” “No Particular Place to Go,” “You Never Can Tell,” “Promised Land,” and the absolute titular peak: “Let It Rock.” Staggering, actually.

And then there’s Chuck Berry the Guitar Player. He had a pioneering look when he played – do a web search for “duck walk” when you have a moment — but much more importantly, he had a sound. He is one of a handful of accomplished players/stylists that can recognized by a minimal series of simple notes, who is so integral to rock ‘n’ roll that the term “Chuck Berry riff” is understandable to generations of players around the world.

And if we’re talking about family trees and cultural impact, it would foolish to ignore that pivotal scene in 1985’s Back to the Future in which Michael J. Fox dazzles a roomful of 1955 teens with an advance peek of “Johnny B. Goode” and blows some minds well before their time. It was the highest-grossing film of 1985, and you (and everybody else) probably saw it.

Yet the grittiness of rock ‘n’ roll isn’t always evident in film performances by people like Michael J. Fox. Much of what makes for the most exciting parts of the music and the culture are those things that aren’t squeaky clean — that sometimes are maybe a little misdirected, a little wrong, or even a little (but not a lot) illegal. In the ‘60s or later, that might’ve meant the Rolling Stones being fined for public urination or Paul McCartney’s 1980 arrest for bringing marijuana into Japan. But in the ‘50s — particularly for a young black man — the law was the law, and it was always serious business.

Chuck Berry had a significant number of run-ins with the law throughout his life, included being sent to juvenile hall in 1944 for armed robbery, and more significantly, being convicted in 1959 of violating the Mann Act with a 14-year-old he’d transported across state lines. For that he was fined, he appealed, and appealed again, but ultimately spent a year and a half in prison. Twenty years later, he would spend 100 days in jail for tax evasion. And in 1990, he was sued by a number of women for allegedly illegally filming them via a video camera installed in the restroom of a Missouri restaurant he owned; eventually a class action settlement ended the matter, though Berry pleaded guilty to misdemeanor charges, was fined, and given a suspended jail sentence. And his career continued, as it always did. Because Chuck Berry was always visible. He was always… there.

You can see him in his prime in films like Rock, Rock, Rock (1956), Mister Rock and Roll (1957), Go, Johnny, Go (1959), and the classic jazz documentary Jazz on a Summer’s Day (1960). He made an inspiring appearance in the highly regarded 1965 film The TAMI Show. He was a captivating physical presence, with a knowing smirk that was not only unprecedented, it telegraphed to a coming generation of rock ‘n’ rollers that all the really cool performers would want to show off knowing smirks whenever they could.

And of course, there was that 1987 career tribute, Taylor Hackford’s memorable Hail! Hail! Rock ‘n’ Roll, a documentary which celebrated the man’s 60th birthday, was filled with behind-the-scenes gossip (paging Keith Richards), is still talked about, and very much spelled out what made Chuck Berry unlike any performer on this Earth.

There are those aspects of Chuck Berry that cannot help but linger: That he was money-centric, that he cared more about getting paid than putting on a good show, that he would come to your town, hire a local band to back him, and never tell them what song he intended to play next. That he was driven by devilish emotions that few saw, but those that did never forgot. But what will also linger is his fabulous music, which is miraculously preserved thanks to the perseverance of his various labels. You can hear his best stuff, on Chess, via a number of boxed sets, and even his later material on Mercury — including a fab psychedelic Fillmore set with the Steve Miller Blues Band — which still sounds great. And there’s also a new album, Chuck, his first since 1979, coming soon on Dualtone Records and undoubtedly worth a final, knowing listen.

It is mildly ironic that Chuck Berry’s greatest chart successes came via projects that were by no means essential: His dreary, extended “My Ding-a-Ling” of 1972 was his biggest single ever, and his only top 10 album was the same year’s The London Chuck Berry Sessions, which featured him with a second-string cast of Brit musicians and was mostly a snore. But charts don’t mean anything in the long run. Cultural impact does. There has never been anyone like him, and there never will be again.

Just say his name, and nothing else, and people will know what you mean.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[davedimartino-yahoo-blog]

Hail! Hail! Chuck Berry: Remembering a Rock ‘n’ Roll Legend

Rock N Roll pioneer Chuck Berry performs live at Madison Square Garden on October 15, 1971 in New York City, New York. (Photo by Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images)

While there are very few instances where one person might be credited for spawning an entire genre of music, Chuck Berry and rock ‘n’ roll are about as close as these things ever get.

In that great big, unimaginable Rock ‘N’ Roll Family Tree that would be impossible for famed U.K. rock chronicler Pete Frame to draw without an infinite supply of pen, paper, and hands, you can just imagine Berry — who passed away Saturday at age 90 — at the very top, with downward tributaries leading to the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, and the Beach Boys, among many others. And yes, those three bands would have their own enormous share of musical descendants beneath them, but always, inescapably, Chuck would be perched at the apex.

Gallery: Chuck Berry’s Life in Photos

The history is well known. The Beatles covered Berry’s “Roll Over Beethoven”; the Stones’ very first single was a version of Berry’s “Come On”; and the Beach Boys’ “Surfin’ U.S.A.” was Berry’s “Sweet Little Sixteen” bearing brand-new, even more topical lyrics.

All of this came in one year, mind you — 1963. And an entire generation of budding rock ‘n’ rollers then danced, sang, and in many cases played their own instruments alongside those songs, those bands, and that irresistible, rhythmic beat. The clever words, the inimitable guitar chords and licks, and the unmistakable attitude that powered those songs came from Berry, and that’s never changed.

Related: Rolling Stones Pay Tribute to Chuck Berry: ‘Your Music Is Engraved Inside Us Forever’

But it didn’t start from scratch. There was a wonderful continuity in what came before with Berry — the interaction of players and figures of another generation making it all happen. In the mid-‘50s, Chuck Berry spent his days as a beautician and his nights as a musician. He was looking for career advice, and in 1955, he got it from no less than blues titan Muddy Waters. Waters put Berry in contact with the legendary Leonard Chess, owner of Chess Records, who listened to Berry’s demo tape, heard the track “Ida Red,” and suggested he change its name to “Maybellene.” Berry did, Chess signed him, and… bang.

The songs that followed are almost laughably familiar — iconic expressions in our contemporary culture. Consider the following songs, all Berry’s, and tell me if every single one might not plausibly be a teen movie title: “Roll Over Beethoven,” “Too Much Monkey Business,” “You Can’t Catch Me,” “Rock and Roll Music,” “Sweet Little Sixteen,” “Johnny B. Goode,” “Beautiful Delilah,” “Almost Grown,” “Back in the U.S.A.,” “No Particular Place to Go,” “You Never Can Tell,” “Promised Land,” and the absolute titular peak: “Let It Rock.” Staggering, actually.

Related: Celebrities Pay Tribute to Chuck Berry

And then there’s Chuck Berry the Guitar Player. He had a pioneering look when he played – do a web search for “duck walk” when you have a moment — but much more importantly, he had a sound. He is one of a handful of accomplished players/stylists that can recognized by a minimal series of simple notes, who is so integral to rock ‘n’ roll that the term “Chuck Berry riff” is understandable to generations of players around the world. If you want a laugh, check out guitarist Chris Spedding’s remarkable “Guitar Jamboree” from 1975, which concisely nails Berry’s unique approach, among others, and has yet to be topped by any other player for its deliberate, joyful guitar mimicry.

And if we’re talking about family trees and cultural impact, it would foolish to ignore that pivotal scene in 1985’s Back to the Future in which Michael J. Fox dazzles a roomful of 1955 teens with an advance peek of “Johnny B. Goode” and blows some minds well before their time. It was the highest-grossing film of 1985, and you (and everybody else) probably saw it.

Yet the grittiness of rock ‘n’ roll isn’t always evident in film performances by people like Michael J. Fox. Much of what makes for the most exciting parts of the music and the culture are those things that aren’t squeaky clean — that sometimes are maybe a little misdirected, a little wrong, or even a little (but not a lot) illegal. In the ‘60s or later, that might’ve meant the Rolling Stones being fined for public urination or Paul McCartney’s 1980 arrest for bringing marijuana into Japan. But in the ‘50s — particularly for a young black man — the law was the law, and it was always serious business.

Chuck Berry had a significant number of run-ins with the law throughout his life, included being sent to juvenile hall in 1944 for armed robbery, and more significantly, being convicted in 1959 of violating the Mann Act with a 14-year-old he’d transported across state lines. For that he was fined, he appealed, and appealed again, but ultimately spent a year and a half in prison. Twenty years later, he would spend 100 days in jail for tax evasion. And in 1990, he was sued by a number of women for allegedly illegally filming them via a video camera installed in the restroom of a Missouri restaurant he owned; eventually a class action settlement ended the matter, though Berry pleaded guilty to misdemeanor charges, was fined, and given a suspended jail sentence. And his career continued, as it always did. Because Chuck Berry was always visible. He was always… there.

You can see him in his prime in films like Rock, Rock, Rock (1956), Mister Rock and Roll (1957), Go, Johnny, Go (1959), and the classic jazz documentary Jazz on a Summer’s Day (1960). He made an inspiring appearance in the highly regarded 1965 film The TAMI Show. He was a captivating physical presence, with a knowing smirk that was not only unprecedented, it telegraphed to a coming generation of rock ‘n’ rollers that all the really cool performers would want to show off knowing smirks whenever they could.

And of course, there was that 1987 career tribute, Taylor Hackford’s memorable Hail! Hail! Rock ‘n’ Roll, a documentary which celebrated the man’s 60th birthday, was filled with behind-the-scenes gossip (paging Keith Richards), is still talked about, and very much spelled out what made Chuck Berry unlike any performer on this Earth.

There are those aspects of Chuck Berry that cannot help but linger: That he was money-centric, that he cared more about getting paid than putting on a good show, that he would come to your town, hire a local band to back him, and never tell them what song he intended to play next. That he was driven by devilish emotions that few saw, but those that did never forgot. But what will also linger is his fabulous music, which is miraculously preserved thanks to the perseverance of his various labels. You can hear his best stuff, on Chess, via a number of boxed sets, and even his later material on Mercury — including a fab psychedelic Fillmore set with the Steve Miller Blues Band — which still sounds great. And there’s also a new album, Chuck, his first since 1979, coming soon on Dualtone Records and undoubtedly worth a final, knowing listen.

It is mildly ironic that Chuck Berry’s greatest chart successes came via projects that were by no means essential: His dreary, extended “My Ding-a-Ling” of 1972 was his biggest single ever, and his only top 10 album was the same year’s The London Chuck Berry Sessions, which featured him with a second-string cast of Brit musicians and was mostly a snore. But charts don’t mean anything in the long run. Cultural impact does. There has never been anyone like him, and there never will be again.

Just say his name, and nothing else, and people will know what you mean.

[sinceileftyoublog]

theMIND Interview: The World Is Burning

Photo by Bryan Allen Lamb

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Protest music is not “timely” when what’s being protested is pervasive; we’ve seen as such from music as recent as Run The Jewels’ fourth album. On Juneteenth, Chicago-via-Philly artist Zarif Wilder, aka theMIND, released “A Spike Lee Jawn”, a lyrically blistering, musically funky list of righteous demands: “To Whom it May Concern, FUCK 12 and reparations have been due. This song is a 400 year old invoice. Best, theMIND,” Wilder wrote to introduce it. But the song wasn’t written last month. It was three years old. The difference is that Wilder’s now ready to tell the world what he thinks.

Wilder moved to Chicago in 2007 to study music business at Columbia College, eventually forming a production group (THEMpeople) and releasing a debut mixtape called Summer Camp in 2016, the same year he, up until this point, more publicly started to pop up on music you’ve most certainly heard. He had two writing credits on Chance the Rapper’s Coloring Book and appeared on Noname’s Telefone and Pete Rock and Smoke DZA’s collaborative album Don’t Smoke Rock. Last year saw his most prominent feature to date, on Jamila Woods’ brilliant “SUN RA”. His name should gain more recognition later this year when he releases a new album called Don’t Let It Go to Your Head, but partially because he’s not afraid to present the truest version of himself. “A Spike Lee Jawn” is not on the record--the only track released from it so far is 2017′s “Ms. Communication”--but its combination of truth and grooves serves as a blueprint for the type of songs that will appear on it, according to Wilder. Even “Ms. Communication” will fit. Speaking to me over the phone last month, Wilder laughed, “It’s kind of crazy to think that the first single in my project was released in 2017. Once people hear the whole project, they won’t be like, ‘Why are we having this callback moment to 3 years ago?’” Part of the cohesion is because of this dichotomy of honesty: “‘Ms. Communication’ is a song about ghosting someone, and I was in the wrong,” Wilder said. “But who knew that a song about ghosting somebody could be a groove?”

During our conversation, Wilder spoke about the context and inspirations behind “A Spike Lee Jawn”, his relationship with the filmmaker’s movies, protest songs, and the limits of streamed performances. Read it below, edited for length and clarity.

SILY: What’s the history of “A Spike Lee Jawn”?

Zarif Wilder: I recorded it in 2017. It’s kind of funny because I was working with Cam O'bi on his project. I was doing a bunch of songwriting for him, and we did a bunch of songs in that time period. We started working on the production which came to be “A Spike Lee Jawn”. We made the majority of the song that day. I came back and added the guitar and bass to it a couple weeks later or so. 

I felt like I was poking the bear by revisiting topics like reparations or police brutality or social inequalities in general. I wanted to add to the conversation, but I didn’t want to keep on reopening old wounds. 2020 comes around, and the song is still relevant. The issues are still happening. It felt like I silenced myself back then, that I wasn’t trying to bring any light to the darkness we have in this world.

SILY: Obviously, a song like this in context of the protests surrounding George Floyd, it seems like it could have been written last week or last month, which just speaks to the prevalence and constancy of these issues. 

ZW: Continuously, yeah. It’s that truth I wanted to bring light to with this record. I wanted to make sure that at the end of the day, I’m adding to the conversation.

SILY: You’re from Philly--that’s the “Jawn” reference.

ZW: Exactly. Born and raised.

SILY: Is there anything else about the song you think is distinctly Philly?

ZW: I realized after I moved to Chicago that a lot of the experiences were the same [as in Philly]. It’s actually kind of weird to think about people having the same experience at the same time. When I’m talking about literally, “Cadillac with tinted eyes / See my 45 keeps me alive,” and all these different references to cars with tinted headlights. They weren’t just in my city. They were everywhere. All of these references I thought were regional were everywhere.

SILY: What’s your relationship with Spike Lee’s movies?

ZW: [laughs] I love all of Spike Lee’s earlier stuff. I think that somewhere along the line--as most people do--we kind of lose touch with the place that we’re from. The trouble comes with trying to speak for the places that you’re no longer in. Specifically when you make movies like Chi-Raq. Spike Lee is doing the movie from the perspective of someone growing up in Brooklyn. He can do that to a great tee, but to come to a different place and try to paint pictures without directly talking to individuals, it’s a little jaded. But I also believe he’s entitled to his opinion. It doesn’t mean that I have to like it as well. [laughs]

It changes. It varies. I liked Da 5 Bloods, I thought that was a good movie. I enjoyed that. But Spike Lee has his corny moments, as we all do.

SILY: Especially with Da 5 Bloods and BlacKkKlansman, he’s not subtle. He hits you over the head with what he’s trying to say, but at the same time, I feel like it’s almost good in today’s day and age. To a certain extent, what he’s talking about is not subtle at all. It deserves to be spoken loudly.

ZW: Guaranteed. Especially when based on historical instances, we have to be very careful with the creative licenses we take, but also be very open to someone’s artistic expression and how they want to tell the story. I fuck with Spike for that. I think Spike’s a legend and will always be. But that’s the one thing we should get to the point of with celebrity culture as a whole: being able to properly critique each other. We don’t want to get to a point where we can’t critique our legends.

SILY: Why did you decide to include him in the title of this song?

ZW: It’s still an homage to him. He’s one of the super great filmmakers. Spike Lee’s production company is called 40 Acres and a Mule. [Editor’s note: The chorus of the song starts with “I just want my 40 acres, fuck the mule.”] I fuck with his rise and his look, the way he kind of looks at creating a path for himself, especially in a cis white male-dominated industry like film-making. He was constantly pushing through to tell stories of people who look like him.

SILY: The song’s very pointed, but the instrumentation is funky. You can definitely dance to it. Was it important to you to make a “protest” song you can also dance to?

ZW: Guaranteed. Recently, there’s Kendrick Lamar’s “Alright”. When that song first dropped, someone said to me, “This is it. This is gonna be the song for the movement.” I was like, “Man, are you serious?” And they were like, “I’m telling you, this is the one.” The next week afterwards, it was everywhere, at every protest, at every march, people were chanting, [sings], “We gon’ be alright!” But it was still a banger. I don’t think protest songs should be sung. They should be chanted. They should be something that pushes us to keep moving, not this super sad thing you want to sit down and say, “Man, the world’s fucked up.” You want something that makes you want to fight.

SILY: Have you been to any of the recent protests?

ZW: Yeah, I went to a bunch, and I went to a bunch of food drives after the CPS shutdown the food program.

SILY: Did you notice any other protest songs that were prevalent in your experience protesting?

ZW: It was mainly the chants we were familiar with, not the song chants at all. Chants of solidarity, like, “It is our duty to fight for our freedom, it is our duty to win.” I wouldn’t go to a protest and start to sing my own song. [laughs]

"A Spike Lee Jawn" (ft. Krystal Metcalfe); Single Artwork by fifthpower

SILY: Can you tell me a little bit about the single artwork?

ZW: It’s done by my friend fifthpower, and it’s based off the Quasimoto [Further Instrumentals] cover, in which Quasi is sitting inside of a house and it’s burning outside, but it’s in L.A. It also reminded me of the “This Is Fine” meme with the dog sitting there with the hat. When we kind of started this year off, with the end of last year, I was in L.A. during the fires. There was ash coming down. Me and my friend were having brunch, and literally, ash was falling, and I was like, “What is this? Is this snow? What’s happening?” And they were like, “That’s the ash from the hills burning.” And I was like, “Y’all are just okay out here eating brunch?!?” It kind of brought this revelation to me that the world is burning around us, and we’re kind of sitting around and saying, “This is fine.” Some people are yelling and screaming, but the majority is like, “This is cool.” I wanted to point to that, and the best way I could do that was have my two cats staring out the window watching it burn.

SILY: Your debut tape came out in 2016. How have you grown as an artist in the past 4 years?

ZW: I’m not afraid of my own reflection anymore. I don’t know if that makes any sense. Summer Camp was super metaphorical. I was afraid to dive in to topics I really wanted to talk about because of painful memories. As I grew, those topics, I couldn’t escape them anymore. I couldn’t think of the metaphors anymore. If the world is burning, I had to say, “The world is burning,” rather than, “I smell smoke.” There are so many different ways to dig deeper into my art. I’m comfortable being naked in front of the audience that listens to my music more so than I ever was before. The self-love I was yearning for on Summer Camp came to fruition. I’m still working on it, but a lot of the parts that made me uncomfortable who I was, telling those experiences, hoping that somebody else can find themselves in their journey as well.

SILY: Tell me about the video for “A Spike Lee Jawn”.

ZW: We dropped it on Juneteenth as is. It went under the radar purposefully. It went up at 11:00 AM, and the way we kind of promoted it was kind of like a teaser for the song and not a full-blown video.

SILY: What else is next for you? Have you planned somewhat of a roll-out for the upcoming record?

ZW: Yeah, I have. I’m super excited about it, specifically with this project. A lot of these fears I had on the first project were addressed on this one more directly, talking about it.

SILY: Have you planned any live streams?

ZW: The crazy part about this is I went on tour--I’ve been touring my new project for the past couple years, honestly. I went on tour with Ibeyi and a European run with Noname. Throughout that entire time, I was trying out songs I was playing. Of course, I was playing a lot from Summer Camp and a lot of my features, but I was pushing a bunch of these other songs. The response was good from the crowd. I want to do something, but a streaming concert just doesn’t look cool to me right now. I don’t know how to do it right. [laughs] One of my favorite things about performing is feeling people’s energy, and doing that through a stream is really tough. I was talking to my friend Jamila Woods, and she was saying that her stream was a bunch of other artists you could see on a Zoom call, and they were hyping each other up. So that was a cool idea, playing a festival and you could see them but not the audience.

SILY: The time lag is a thing, too. I’ve seen a couple performances where some bands were playing live in different rooms, but it was pretty heavily edited.

ZW: Exactly.

SILY: If people are hyping each other up, though, at least it has some of the energy aspect you’re talking about.

ZW: Exactly. It’s hard to replicate that. I know people who can’t perform unless they hear the crowd.

SILY: Is there anything you’ve been reading, watching, or listening to lately that’s inspired you, caught your attention, or comforted you?

ZW: I’ve been trying to stay off of everything, but I’ve been watching documentaries. At the beginning of the video for “A Spike Lee Jawn”, there’s a clip of farmers from the Ivory Coast who have never tasted chocolate. They never even knew that the bean they farmed turned into it. So there’s a small clip of them eating chocolate for the first time. They’re older guys. It completely blows your mind. But the analogy between that and where America is, as far as all of the people who helped build this country not being able to participate in the beautiful aspects the American Dream supposedly offers.

I’ve been having conversations with individuals as much as I possibly can, to gain as much perspective from people as I can.