...and where the hell is fiona apple, anyway?
Look, I know they can't all be Nina Simone or Patti Smith.
My son (15 years old...and yes, I was allowed to breed) wanted a Jewel CD for Christmas, and despite my better judgement and musical tastes, I got it for him. His request was based on a single song he'd heard on the radio ("Intuition", which I also had heard on the radio, but didn't know who it was singing, and would never have guessed Jewel) and I figured this was as good as any criteria I've established for CDs I wanted. I frequently suffer from the 3-song syndrome. That's where you purchase a CD based on between one and 3 singles, and when you get home and play it, you realize that's all there is...the rest of the songs are just awful. Anyway...I buy him the Jewel CD. Life is good.
Now, I was under the impression that Jewel was some kind of critically acclaimed folkie who only went wrong when she tried to publish a volume of poetry, only to be coldly, roundly parodied by NY slam poet Beau Sia (btw, I've read Beau Sia while in the bathroom...that doesn't make me gay, does it?). So when I popped my son's CD into the car player yesterday and heard this over-synthesized pop music come out at me, I figured either I'd been wrong all this time, or Jewel had tried to change her image a bit, ala That Other Female Singer Who Wasn't Getting Enough Press And Changed Her Chosen Oeuvre To Reflect A More Marketable Thing. Then her voice came out. Or I should say, the breaths of air that misrepresented a voice, particularly a singing voice, to no good effect. Perhaps Jewel and her six-string guitar at the local Hallowed Grounds Open Mic night worked, the feeble plucking of almost-in-tune strings not overpowering her breezy, lighter-than-fractured-angel-wings voice. But this was really bad. And shame on the producer who thought piping in even more electronic backbeat and synthetic mummer would make her singing build in some way. Again, I thought Jewel was supposed to be something relatively well-received. But this was a voice that couldn't have outlasted the sugary pop vocals of Britney or Jessica, and certainly nowhere near the likes of an Aguilera, a young woman who may not make the best fashion choices, but most assuredly can belt out a tune with great zeal and aplomb (I envision a much older Christina Aguilera, and I mean Ethel Merman older, belting out tunes to a rapt audience that has stayed with her over the decades...or at least to successive generations of fans of whatever type music she decides to sing as she matures).
No, this was a child, whimpering down a noisy telephone line, on a long distance call she had no right to be on. I was really shocked that some executive felt this was a worthy business decision, to spend all the money and resources needed to press a CD and do appropriate marketing.
But my son loves it. And that's where the railing ends.
Except that the whole topic makes me sadly reminiscent of the ages we've waltzed through, music that has slipped past us save for the occasional radio station or CD re-release of a singer's entire history in a single box set. So much great music has been forgotten and isn't in the realm of what our kids might listen to...it's up to us to play things surreptitiously so our kids can hear them, and hope that every now and then one of them may speak up and ask, "So, who's that? I kind of like this song..."
And finally, yes, I need to know: where is Fiona Apple? Where is the new CD? Apple, who always sounded to me like the bluesiest, sultriest, most psychotic and sexual underaged girlfriend you never had, but saw and heard and wanted, had two great CDs but then dropped off the planet amidst tales of stage breakdowns. I'm sure it's her age, that she simply wasn't emotionally prepared to have such a great voice, moderate success and to date the likes of Paul Thomas Anderson. It was probably all too much, and she did probably break down, just a little.
But I need that next CD. Really, I do. I don't care if she fails miserably, I just need to see what she's prepared to do next.
That little minx. How dare she hold back on us.
I blame Magnolia.
My son (15 years old...and yes, I was allowed to breed) wanted a Jewel CD for Christmas, and despite my better judgement and musical tastes, I got it for him. His request was based on a single song he'd heard on the radio ("Intuition", which I also had heard on the radio, but didn't know who it was singing, and would never have guessed Jewel) and I figured this was as good as any criteria I've established for CDs I wanted. I frequently suffer from the 3-song syndrome. That's where you purchase a CD based on between one and 3 singles, and when you get home and play it, you realize that's all there is...the rest of the songs are just awful. Anyway...I buy him the Jewel CD. Life is good.
Now, I was under the impression that Jewel was some kind of critically acclaimed folkie who only went wrong when she tried to publish a volume of poetry, only to be coldly, roundly parodied by NY slam poet Beau Sia (btw, I've read Beau Sia while in the bathroom...that doesn't make me gay, does it?). So when I popped my son's CD into the car player yesterday and heard this over-synthesized pop music come out at me, I figured either I'd been wrong all this time, or Jewel had tried to change her image a bit, ala That Other Female Singer Who Wasn't Getting Enough Press And Changed Her Chosen Oeuvre To Reflect A More Marketable Thing. Then her voice came out. Or I should say, the breaths of air that misrepresented a voice, particularly a singing voice, to no good effect. Perhaps Jewel and her six-string guitar at the local Hallowed Grounds Open Mic night worked, the feeble plucking of almost-in-tune strings not overpowering her breezy, lighter-than-fractured-angel-wings voice. But this was really bad. And shame on the producer who thought piping in even more electronic backbeat and synthetic mummer would make her singing build in some way. Again, I thought Jewel was supposed to be something relatively well-received. But this was a voice that couldn't have outlasted the sugary pop vocals of Britney or Jessica, and certainly nowhere near the likes of an Aguilera, a young woman who may not make the best fashion choices, but most assuredly can belt out a tune with great zeal and aplomb (I envision a much older Christina Aguilera, and I mean Ethel Merman older, belting out tunes to a rapt audience that has stayed with her over the decades...or at least to successive generations of fans of whatever type music she decides to sing as she matures).
No, this was a child, whimpering down a noisy telephone line, on a long distance call she had no right to be on. I was really shocked that some executive felt this was a worthy business decision, to spend all the money and resources needed to press a CD and do appropriate marketing.
But my son loves it. And that's where the railing ends.
Except that the whole topic makes me sadly reminiscent of the ages we've waltzed through, music that has slipped past us save for the occasional radio station or CD re-release of a singer's entire history in a single box set. So much great music has been forgotten and isn't in the realm of what our kids might listen to...it's up to us to play things surreptitiously so our kids can hear them, and hope that every now and then one of them may speak up and ask, "So, who's that? I kind of like this song..."
And finally, yes, I need to know: where is Fiona Apple? Where is the new CD? Apple, who always sounded to me like the bluesiest, sultriest, most psychotic and sexual underaged girlfriend you never had, but saw and heard and wanted, had two great CDs but then dropped off the planet amidst tales of stage breakdowns. I'm sure it's her age, that she simply wasn't emotionally prepared to have such a great voice, moderate success and to date the likes of Paul Thomas Anderson. It was probably all too much, and she did probably break down, just a little.
But I need that next CD. Really, I do. I don't care if she fails miserably, I just need to see what she's prepared to do next.
That little minx. How dare she hold back on us.
I blame Magnolia.
posted by scn at 6:09 AM
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