I was a little late to the party on "The Sopranos." It was always on my list of shows to watch, but for some reason "House," "The Wire" and "How I Met Your Mother" took precedence during my college days of lazily binge-watching online episodes between classes, runs and work.
With the death of James Gandolfini last summer, I figured I owed it to his memory and to my own sensibilities to give the series its due. It took me a year, but I finished the saga this weekend and am in the reflective mood.
The below list may not be the finest episodes of David Chase's classic HBO series, for which we can thank the future airing of shows like "The Wire," "Boardwalk Empire" and "Breaking Bad." Gandolfini and co. showed us we could stomach adult drama on premium television outside the boundaries of traditional broadcast "seasons" and exceeding the content allowed by censors. It may not be the best of that bunch, but it blazed a trail we can duly credit as creating the glut of fantastic TV drama we enjoy today.
SPOILERS BELOW. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.
"College"
Originally aired: Feb. 7, 1999
"Am I in the what?"
The draw of "The Sopranos," from the beginning, was the centralized character of Tony Soprano, a flawed leader who is trying to juggle the modern demands of fatherhood while reconciling his violent identity as a leader of organized crime. No episode portrays this better than "College," and there's good reason it's cited by many as the best episode of the series. Contrast the above scene, where Tony attempts to rationalize his role to his daughter, Meadow, with the chilling scene where he strangles an old foe. There's a reason "The Sopranos" hit it big early, and "College" was a major part of that.
"House Arrest"
Originally aired: March 26, 2000
"I don't give a shit if you're working with Wal-Mart. Knock it the fuck off."
The downfall of Vito Corleone was his unwillingness to sell hard drugs. There are echoes of "The Godfather," "Goodfellas" and countless other gangster film classics in "The Sopranos." The characters are self-aware that their leading lives glamorized by modern media. The writers co-opted this disdain for hard drugs in Tony's character and his memorable spat with Richie Aprile, setting up the eventual showdown with Uncle Junior that was the basis for much of the dramatic tension in the show's first few seasons. "House Arrest" is also memorable for showing Tony's commitment (and addiction) to the lifestyle. When his lawyer orders him to lay low, Tony's inability to interact with his criminal crew becomes an unbearable burden.
"The Knight in White Satin Armor"
Originally aired: April 2, 2000
"Ballroom dancing is a legitimate art form."
The spat between Richie Aprile and Tony was clearly headed for some kind of resolution, though who would have guessed it would be Janice who put the beef to bed? "The Knight in White Satin Armor" is notable for its exploration of the relationship between Tony and Janice, a complicated tete a tete that lasted for the entirety of the show's run. Gandolfini shows his chops in the scene when he discovers Aprile is dead. There's a look of relief, surprise and - dare I say it - admiration when he sees Richie lying dead in Janice's arms.
"Funhouse"
Originally aired: April 9, 2000
"Why you making me do this, you fat, miserable, piece of fuckin' shit?"
The writers gave us little time to grieve for Richie Aprile before offing Salvatore "Big Pussy" Bonpensiero the next week. Pussy was ratting to the FBI, and when Tony finds out, he orders the hit. Pussy's death becomes a major theme throughout the rest of the show, with Vincent Pastore making multiple guest appearances as Tony's subconscious wrangles with having to "deal with" one of his best friends and top earners. There's a memorable mirror in the final season, as Paulie Walnuts thinks back to Pussy's death and believes Tony's out to off him, too.
"Pine Barrens"
Originally aired: May 6, 2001
"You had Tic-Tacs all along? Give me some!"
Steve Buscemi lent his considerable talents to this episode behind the camera, considered another of the series' best, before appearing as Tony's cousin in Season 5. As bit characters go, Christopher Moltisanti and Paulie Gualtieri are perhaps the most interesting in "Sopranos" lore. Christopher must deal with the struggles of being the youngest among the made guys and having his balls constantly broken. Add in substance addiction and constant grief with Paulie, and you have a character that played a huge role in the series' run despite never fully receiving top billing. In "Pine Barrens," we see that constant grief play out in a way that sows seeds for conflict to come.
"Amor Fou"
Originally aired: May 13, 2001
"Kill me. Kill me, you cocksucker."
Of all Tony's love affairs, the most dangerous turned out to be with the beautiful and demented car dealer, Gloria Trillo. She grows jealous of his wife, and his other women, and is one of the few who calls him out on it, prompting a violent showdown that terrifies Tony to his core. Though he sleeps with many women, it is Gloria who continues to recur in his mind long after he learns of her suicide. There's a reason. She illustrates the same mental weakness as him, and he worries her inability to cope reflects a similar possibility within himself.
"Whoever Did This"
Originally aired: November 10, 2002
"That's funny about God, and faith, and shit like that."
It's tough to pick one episode where Ralph Cifaretto can be best remembered. His strange sexual relationship with Janice, and jokes about Johnny Sack's wife and obsession with the film "Gladiator" provided a constant burr in Tony's saddle. So it's unsurprising that Tony takes care of Ralph, but it is surprising about what puts him over the edge: the death of his prized race horse. The resulting cleanup brings Christopher and Tony closer together, but also reveals the extent of his drug addiction that will ultimately prove to be his downfall with Tony.
"The Strong, Silent Type"
Originally aired: November 17, 2002
"You're weak. You're out of control. And you've become an embarrassment to yourself and everybody else."
It's hard to pick what is most memorable about "The Strong, Silent Type." Tony sleeping with Svetlana, which eventually becomes the basis for his separation from Carmela. The painting of Pie-O-My that eventually finds its way to Paulie's mantle, and becomes the basis for Tony's disdain later in the series. The growing unease between Furio and Carmela. For my money, it's Christopher's intervention, which eventually sets him on the beleaguered path to get sober. The scene is at once darkly comic, wrought with tension and one of the few times the members of Tony's personal family and criminal family interact on a personal level. It's one of the most memorable scenes of the series.
"Unidentified Black Males"
Originally aired: May 2, 2004
"Fuck his foot! It's not his foot! Forget the foot!"
Another episode that's difficult to pin down one or two memorable moments alone. Growing tension between Tony and his cousin Tony (Steve Buscemi) leads to a revelation in Dr. Melfi's office, however, that is one of the most superbly acted scenes in the series. Tony reveals his guilt that his cousin went to prison, and not him, because of a panic attack following an argument with his mother. It's a brief moment of insight that brings Tony to his knees, and it's a shame the whole scene isn't on YouTube. Meanwhile, Finn witnesses Vito in a compromising position that leads to a memorable story arc in the next season.
"Long Term Parking"
Originally aired: May 23, 2004
"Jesus, I don't even know how to say this. It's Christopher."
It's tough to watch "The Sopranos" and not feel slightly sorry for Adriana. Christopher goes through mood swings and she stands dutifully by his side, even through the worst possible drug addiction. A perceived fling with Tony creates friction between the two, but she comes back into his arms. Then, when she seeks to confide in him and get away from the life, he turns around and sells her out to Tony and Syl, who then use her concern for Christopher to entrap her. What's incredibly heartbreaking is that Adriana imagines leaving before agreeing to the ride with Syl. The execution scene is painful to watch, and becomes a source of conflict between Tony and Christopher in ensuing seasons.
"Johnny Cakes"
Originally aired: April 30, 2006
"Listen, Marie, I'm sorry all this had to happen. I never meant to hurt you."
Vito Spatafore went from an interesting bit character to a full-blown story arc in the first half of the Sopranos' sixth season. His struggle with his sexuality, and the differing opinions it inspires in Tony, his crew and the families, provides an original look into modern perceptions about homosexuality and perfect fodder for Phil Leotardo's eventual vendetta against Tony. John Costelloe offers an inspired turn as Jim "Johnny Cakes" Witowski. That Joseph Gannascoli, the actor who portrayed Vito, brought the idea for his character being gay to David Chase and never received top recognition for his performance or idea is a disgrace.
"Second Coming"
Originally aired: May 20, 2007
"You're OK, baby. You're OK, baby."
Anthony Jr. was always an impediment to Tony's mental well-being. He worries about his son all the time, and as Meadow rightfully points out to her brother, it's because he's the only son in an Italian family that Tony is able to be floored by the depression of his son. While the abrupt departure of Blanca throws him into a depressed funk, neither Tony nor Carmella really believe he's at his wit's end until an ill-fated suicide attempt in the family pool. Tony's reaction - immediate rage, then a return to the fatherly instinct of protection - is at once profound and extremely telling about his character. Even in the midst of a potentially life-ending conflict with Phil Leotardo, Tony reverts to his fatherhood role in an instant.
"Made in America"
Originally aired: June 10, 2007
"I went ahead and ordered some for the table."
What discussion of memorable scenes from "The Sopranos" would be complete without a nodding reference to the final scene? Much maligned when it aired, the final moments of the Sopranos family on the small screen made me squeal with existential joy. Who is that man who goes to the bathroom? Who does Tony see when he looks up to the ringing of the bell at the door? Which "evil at the door" - the remnants of Phil Leotardo's crew, a disenchanted Paulie Walnuts or the "80 to 90 percent chance" of federal indictment will fall Tony Soprano? David Chase decided to let the viewers sort that out, rather than end his series with a definitive answer. As an avid opponent of post-modern non-endings, I can't believe I'm typing these words. But this was the perfect way to end Tony's story. Full stop.
What about you? What moments in Sopranos history do you remember most?
Many folks learn one thing really well. I've never subscribed to that theory (as my Jeopardy! prowess will attest to). Enjoy a layman's shallow approach to politics, pop culture, dog racing, and whatever else strikes the fancy of a modern-day Renaissance Man.
Showing posts with label 1990s. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1990s. Show all posts
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Sunday, July 20, 2014
An Inexplicably Close Look at an Obscure Song: "Rock the House" by Gorillaz feat. Del Tha Funky Homosapien
This one hurts.
"Gorillaz" was one of my favorite albums growing up. I still remember picking my jaw off the floor the first time I saw "Clint Eastwood" on MTV. Here was something that had never been tried before, at least on this scale - a completely animated band of misfit musicians, with their own backstories, headed by the brilliant Damon Albarn and for some reason some "Thriller" inspired monkeys. Dude, how are you NOT going to buy that album immediately?
And one of the coolest parts of the debut video was Del tha Funky Homosapien, who has some of the sickest rhymes out there, playing a zombified Russel, the beat man. If you don't still get a chill when Del raps, "time for me is nothin' 'cuz I'm countin' no age," then you didn't grow up in the early 2000s.
So what the fuck happened with "Rock the House"?
Take all of the lyrical genius of "Clint Eastwood" and throw it out the window. Sure, that horn line is catchy. I mean, every program on music television (MTV, VH1, what have you) used it as intro/outro music. It is a fantastic beat, there's no question. But is it really "Rock the House" material?
"Gorillaz" was one of my favorite albums growing up. I still remember picking my jaw off the floor the first time I saw "Clint Eastwood" on MTV. Here was something that had never been tried before, at least on this scale - a completely animated band of misfit musicians, with their own backstories, headed by the brilliant Damon Albarn and for some reason some "Thriller" inspired monkeys. Dude, how are you NOT going to buy that album immediately?
And one of the coolest parts of the debut video was Del tha Funky Homosapien, who has some of the sickest rhymes out there, playing a zombified Russel, the beat man. If you don't still get a chill when Del raps, "time for me is nothin' 'cuz I'm countin' no age," then you didn't grow up in the early 2000s.
So what the fuck happened with "Rock the House"?
Take all of the lyrical genius of "Clint Eastwood" and throw it out the window. Sure, that horn line is catchy. I mean, every program on music television (MTV, VH1, what have you) used it as intro/outro music. It is a fantastic beat, there's no question. But is it really "Rock the House" material?
"I got the balls to rock the salsa" Yeah. You actually heard that.
We're in 2014, and I've still yet to find someone who can tell me why one needs to shake their asscrack when simply shaking their ass will do. And, I mean, look at that video! Del is essentially the bad guy in the opening scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark. Come on, guys. Surely we can do better than this.
Del's involvement with the band ended with that self-title debut in 2001, and I can't help but think lines like "Get funky we've been funkadelic wearin' Pampers/While you eggheads is on the wall preparin' answers," had something to do with that. Del, we loved you in Tony Hawk 3, why must you give us this?
Of course, I could be looking at this too closely.
Labels:
1990s,
2000s,
Damon Albarn,
Del tha Funky Homosapien,
Gorillaz,
MTV,
music,
pop rock,
rap,
VH1
Sunday, April 6, 2014
An Inexplicably Close Look at an Obscure Song: The Ataris "Boys of Summer"
When I was a kid, like many I dreamed of rock and roll weekends. I even held a bass at one point and attempted to learn the instrument, despite having the rhythm of some combination of Anthony Michael Hall characters from the 1980s.
There were two names I wanted for my band, to be emblazoned across the drum set as I made young women swoon with my delicious licks. The first was The Ecto-Coolers. The second was The Ataris.
As far as I know, the Hi-C inspired moniker is still up for grabs. I was devastated when I learned sometime around the 10th grade my back-up dreams were dashed.
If you're going to name yourselves after the early 80s video game console of choice, you better be damn good. The Ataris seemed it when I started listening to their music right around junior high. "Angry Nerd Rock" is still one of my angsty favorites from those days, when American Hi-Fi and Mest were on repeat in my portable CD player and Dude Where's My Car? was in my VCR.
Ahem. Back off the nostalgia train.
"Boys of Summer" never really made much sense to me. I mean, yeah, I understood it when it was played at baseball stadiums and whatnot, but the whole concept seemed dated, even in the 1980s. Was Don Henley singing about gypsies? Who were these boys, and more importantly, where did their female counterparts come from? Are there hordes of young attractive people who burrow themselves underground in winter and show up for sex, drugs and rock and roll in the summer? Is that what those Disney internships are all about?
The Ataris cover of the 1984 hit answers none of these questions, and it also avoids what a good cover song should do - that is, take a song and change its style, message or some other facet to make it your own. For example, the millions of ska/punk covers of 80s songs. Or Authority Zero's (contemporary with The Ataris) cover of "Mexican Radio."
What we get with The Ataris is a straightforward, power pop version of a song that was already a straightforward, power pop piece that is the musical equivalent of a corn dog - battered with sweetness, but unfilling and leaving you with regret.
The Ataris would have been better off covering the Juno First theme song. But maybe I'm just looking into it too closely.
There were two names I wanted for my band, to be emblazoned across the drum set as I made young women swoon with my delicious licks. The first was The Ecto-Coolers. The second was The Ataris.
As far as I know, the Hi-C inspired moniker is still up for grabs. I was devastated when I learned sometime around the 10th grade my back-up dreams were dashed.
If you're going to name yourselves after the early 80s video game console of choice, you better be damn good. The Ataris seemed it when I started listening to their music right around junior high. "Angry Nerd Rock" is still one of my angsty favorites from those days, when American Hi-Fi and Mest were on repeat in my portable CD player and Dude Where's My Car? was in my VCR.
Ahem. Back off the nostalgia train.
"Boys of Summer" never really made much sense to me. I mean, yeah, I understood it when it was played at baseball stadiums and whatnot, but the whole concept seemed dated, even in the 1980s. Was Don Henley singing about gypsies? Who were these boys, and more importantly, where did their female counterparts come from? Are there hordes of young attractive people who burrow themselves underground in winter and show up for sex, drugs and rock and roll in the summer? Is that what those Disney internships are all about?
The Ataris cover of the 1984 hit answers none of these questions, and it also avoids what a good cover song should do - that is, take a song and change its style, message or some other facet to make it your own. For example, the millions of ska/punk covers of 80s songs. Or Authority Zero's (contemporary with The Ataris) cover of "Mexican Radio."
What we get with The Ataris is a straightforward, power pop version of a song that was already a straightforward, power pop piece that is the musical equivalent of a corn dog - battered with sweetness, but unfilling and leaving you with regret.
The Ataris would have been better off covering the Juno First theme song. But maybe I'm just looking into it too closely.
Labels:
1980s,
1990s,
2000s,
Don Henley,
Dude Where's My Car,
Ecto-Cooler,
Hi-C,
Mest,
music,
review,
The Ataris,
video games
Sunday, January 12, 2014
An Inexplicably Close Look at an Incredibly Obscure Song: "10 Days Late" Third Eye Blind
Third Eye Blind burst onto the scene in the late '90s displaying an uncanny ability - like Matchbox Twenty, Semisonic, the Goo Goo Dolls and their ilk - to pen hits that blended complicated, sometimes soul-crushing things with sugary delicious pop rock licks. Whether it be the depths of crystal methamphetamine, suicide, or an incredibly painful break-up, Stephen Jenkins and the boys seemed to be able to tackle it with a riff that made the crowds feel like dancing anyway.
Perhaps the one strength that set the 'Frisco rockers apart from their mainstream contemporaries was their very real, very raw way of talking about sex - its passion, its complications, its fundamentals. This is a band that wrote about wasting days in bed, Cunnilingus that would make Colonel Angus blush and orgasms that last ages of summer afternoons.
Which makes "10 Days Late," the third single off the band's 1999 album "Blue," a bit of an anomaly.
In a way, the song is vintage 3EB. It's got a bass line followed by a riff that will tingle your spine. The chorus does not shy away from the, ahem, practical side of sexuality, making the ditty perhaps the highest-profile song about a missed period in pop music history. Jenkins croons and delivers punchy soundbites throughout.
But much like Ben Folds Five's "Brick," released a year prior to "10 Days," the song is almost hopelessly wrapped up in how the man's life is affected by the early pregnancy of a woman. Our dramatic voice in "10 Days" shows his juvenile perspective by saying, "I'm in trouble now, and it cannot wait." Never mind the fact that this young girl he's impregnated is faced with a decision that has moral, legal and life-altering ramifications.
Also, for some reason, there's a need for a choir and a cowbell in this one.
In an effort to continue its track record of writing about complicated themes, 3EB may have bit off more than they could chew with "10 Days Late." It's little wonder why the band's popularity faded considerably after the release of the single (OK, hardcore fans, I know the inner turmoil with Kevin Cadogan probably didn't help much).
Where "Brick" succeeded by emphasizing the limited perspective of its dramatic voice and adopting a sufficiently somber tone, elevating Ben Folds to a level of popularity that lingers today and causes Folds himself to question the message his song about abortion is leaving with folks, "10 Days Late" comes off as something Jenkins insisted it wasn't - just a modern pop/rock song about menstruation. It had the potential to be so much more.
Or maybe I'm just looking at it too closely.
Perhaps the one strength that set the 'Frisco rockers apart from their mainstream contemporaries was their very real, very raw way of talking about sex - its passion, its complications, its fundamentals. This is a band that wrote about wasting days in bed, Cunnilingus that would make Colonel Angus blush and orgasms that last ages of summer afternoons.
Which makes "10 Days Late," the third single off the band's 1999 album "Blue," a bit of an anomaly.
In a way, the song is vintage 3EB. It's got a bass line followed by a riff that will tingle your spine. The chorus does not shy away from the, ahem, practical side of sexuality, making the ditty perhaps the highest-profile song about a missed period in pop music history. Jenkins croons and delivers punchy soundbites throughout.
But much like Ben Folds Five's "Brick," released a year prior to "10 Days," the song is almost hopelessly wrapped up in how the man's life is affected by the early pregnancy of a woman. Our dramatic voice in "10 Days" shows his juvenile perspective by saying, "I'm in trouble now, and it cannot wait." Never mind the fact that this young girl he's impregnated is faced with a decision that has moral, legal and life-altering ramifications.
Also, for some reason, there's a need for a choir and a cowbell in this one.
In an effort to continue its track record of writing about complicated themes, 3EB may have bit off more than they could chew with "10 Days Late." It's little wonder why the band's popularity faded considerably after the release of the single (OK, hardcore fans, I know the inner turmoil with Kevin Cadogan probably didn't help much).
Where "Brick" succeeded by emphasizing the limited perspective of its dramatic voice and adopting a sufficiently somber tone, elevating Ben Folds to a level of popularity that lingers today and causes Folds himself to question the message his song about abortion is leaving with folks, "10 Days Late" comes off as something Jenkins insisted it wasn't - just a modern pop/rock song about menstruation. It had the potential to be so much more.
Or maybe I'm just looking at it too closely.
Labels:
1990s,
abortion,
feminism,
matchbox twenty,
music,
pop culture,
pop rock,
review,
third eye blind
Sunday, October 20, 2013
An Inexplicably Close Look at an Obscure Song: Jimmie's Chicken Shack "Trash"
I remember my early encounters with pop-ska-rockers "Jimmie's Chicken Shack" with a fondness that came from two sources.
The first being my excitement that I had another group of counter-culture dudes to look up to with which I could ignore the drivel that dominated Total Request Live. The second, much-earlier bout of happiness came the first time I heard the group announced on the radio and hopes sprung that we had a new restaurant in town that could compete with the dry-heave-inducing Popeye's (Louisiana Fast...all the way to the john).
Those first hopes were sustained through the band's first effort I was aware of, 1999's "Do Right" off the group's second-major release, "Bring Your Own Stereo." It was the perfect blend of angst-y, drunken fantasy mixed with power chords that mixed well with the Blink-182's and Sum 41's of the era.
Then came "Trash," the second single off the album.
It's not that the sophomore effort is worse than "Do Right" in any way, it's simply that, at its core, "Trash" is the exact same song. For a band with "chicken" in its name, Jimmie's Chicken Shack's music is surprisingly more like pancakes - as the great Mitch Hedberg once told us, great at first, but by the end, you're fuckin' sick of 'em.
In "Trash," we're introduced to a dramatic voice that, for all intents and purposes, is likely the same manic-depressive mess of a lead singer who's regaling us in "Do Right." Indeed, lead singer Jimi Haha (I wish I was making that up) has said the entire album is about his ex-girlfriend from New Jersey. In other words, this pony's doing the same trick over and over.
While "Trash" attempts to do a few things its predecessor did not, including a foray into the trilingual ("Auf Wiedersehen, yeah my mon ami"), the basic premise is the same: I'm more than you're making me out to be. And, predictably, the final few lines of the song unravel into a nonsensical rant about "jumping right in," presumably to attacking the "mom" in the song that keeps calling our sweet Jimi trash.
By the end, we've learned that the judgmental matriarch enjoys purchasing drugs from our sweet Jimi and ignores personal hygiene.
The first being my excitement that I had another group of counter-culture dudes to look up to with which I could ignore the drivel that dominated Total Request Live. The second, much-earlier bout of happiness came the first time I heard the group announced on the radio and hopes sprung that we had a new restaurant in town that could compete with the dry-heave-inducing Popeye's (Louisiana Fast...all the way to the john).
Those first hopes were sustained through the band's first effort I was aware of, 1999's "Do Right" off the group's second-major release, "Bring Your Own Stereo." It was the perfect blend of angst-y, drunken fantasy mixed with power chords that mixed well with the Blink-182's and Sum 41's of the era.
Then came "Trash," the second single off the album.
It's not that the sophomore effort is worse than "Do Right" in any way, it's simply that, at its core, "Trash" is the exact same song. For a band with "chicken" in its name, Jimmie's Chicken Shack's music is surprisingly more like pancakes - as the great Mitch Hedberg once told us, great at first, but by the end, you're fuckin' sick of 'em.
In "Trash," we're introduced to a dramatic voice that, for all intents and purposes, is likely the same manic-depressive mess of a lead singer who's regaling us in "Do Right." Indeed, lead singer Jimi Haha (I wish I was making that up) has said the entire album is about his ex-girlfriend from New Jersey. In other words, this pony's doing the same trick over and over.
While "Trash" attempts to do a few things its predecessor did not, including a foray into the trilingual ("Auf Wiedersehen, yeah my mon ami"), the basic premise is the same: I'm more than you're making me out to be. And, predictably, the final few lines of the song unravel into a nonsensical rant about "jumping right in," presumably to attacking the "mom" in the song that keeps calling our sweet Jimi trash.
By the end, we've learned that the judgmental matriarch enjoys purchasing drugs from our sweet Jimi and ignores personal hygiene.
Not included in the liner notes: Whether it would be a reasonable expectation for a Baby Boomer to label those pictured above as filthy.
The final line of the song gets in the ultimate dig for a musician clawing his way up the modern rock charts: "Tell your mom, I'm on the radio." Yes, Jimi, yes you were. For about 14 minutes and 59 seconds in an era jam-packed with post-grunge talent, some extremely gifted and others not so much.
Jimmie's Chicken Shack may have cornered the market on angst-ridden young men heaving spite at past lovers. One wonders if this band, which had a unique sound and a hook unlike many of their contemporaries, could have clung to a little more fame had they branched out, song-writing-wise.
But perhaps I'm reading into it a little too much.
Labels:
1990s,
2000s,
Blink 182,
Jimmie's Chicken Shack,
Mitch Hedberg,
MTV,
music,
Popeye's,
post-grunge,
Total Request Live,
Trash
Monday, July 1, 2013
An Inexplicably Close Look at an Obscure Song: OK Go "Get Over It"
Before they were messing around with your gym equipment and wasting time in abandoned warehouses, Chicago-based alt rockers OK Go were doing something very pedestrian by their standards: Imploring some wanton audience to put things in perspective.
An Inexplicably Close Look at an Obscure Song (or AICLOS, for those of you acronymically inclined) has always been about exegesis of the trivial: Those nonsensical lyrics you just can't get out of your head from a ditty no one cares about. OK Go has rendered that mission difficult, as it is quite impossible to divorce the band from their ingenuity in crafting visual representations of their music that stun and get people talking. Don't believe me? Walk into the next bar you come across and ask the patrons about OK Go's debut album, and they'll sit there, mouths agape. Ask them about those guys that made that music video on a treadmill, and you'll get laughs and pats on the back.
OK Go has taken an era where the music video has been rendered pointless, thanks to MTV's constant marathon of teenagers doing awful things, and embraced the viral nature of today's video content. One could imagine them shooting themselves out of cannon at bullseye comprised of vials of infectious diseases, if only for a couple thousand more hits on YouTube.
"Get Over It" is the band's first official music video, and its nod to the band's future half avant-garde, half bored Americans at work audience is a super slow-motion ping pong game in which the melody halts entirely. Seriously. That's it. The rest of the time they're playing their instruments and having random objects thrown at them.
Like OK Go's other songs, the visual representation has nothing to do with the lyrical content of the song, which is ostensibly a rant to a friend of either gender for complaining about things that are beyond your control and to simply enjoy what pleasures you have in life. Whether one of those pleasures is a ping pong game or a faithless wife is something you'll have to decide for yourself.
Of course, without reading the lyrics and instead simply reading the title of the song, one could surmise that OK Go's been pulling a fast one on us for the last several years. Their nonsensical videos could simply be a commentary on how seriously the music industry was taking itself, though considering these guys shortly postdated things like this, it's hard to take that position seriously.
Maybe I shouldn't be reading too much into the music of a band that named itself after the thing you say while impatiently waiting in line for the waterslide.
An Inexplicably Close Look at an Obscure Song (or AICLOS, for those of you acronymically inclined) has always been about exegesis of the trivial: Those nonsensical lyrics you just can't get out of your head from a ditty no one cares about. OK Go has rendered that mission difficult, as it is quite impossible to divorce the band from their ingenuity in crafting visual representations of their music that stun and get people talking. Don't believe me? Walk into the next bar you come across and ask the patrons about OK Go's debut album, and they'll sit there, mouths agape. Ask them about those guys that made that music video on a treadmill, and you'll get laughs and pats on the back.
OK Go has taken an era where the music video has been rendered pointless, thanks to MTV's constant marathon of teenagers doing awful things, and embraced the viral nature of today's video content. One could imagine them shooting themselves out of cannon at bullseye comprised of vials of infectious diseases, if only for a couple thousand more hits on YouTube.
"Get Over It" is the band's first official music video, and its nod to the band's future half avant-garde, half bored Americans at work audience is a super slow-motion ping pong game in which the melody halts entirely. Seriously. That's it. The rest of the time they're playing their instruments and having random objects thrown at them.
Like OK Go's other songs, the visual representation has nothing to do with the lyrical content of the song, which is ostensibly a rant to a friend of either gender for complaining about things that are beyond your control and to simply enjoy what pleasures you have in life. Whether one of those pleasures is a ping pong game or a faithless wife is something you'll have to decide for yourself.
Of course, without reading the lyrics and instead simply reading the title of the song, one could surmise that OK Go's been pulling a fast one on us for the last several years. Their nonsensical videos could simply be a commentary on how seriously the music industry was taking itself, though considering these guys shortly postdated things like this, it's hard to take that position seriously.
Maybe I shouldn't be reading too much into the music of a band that named itself after the thing you say while impatiently waiting in line for the waterslide.
Labels:
1990s,
2000s,
2002,
Get Over It,
music review,
music video,
OK Go,
ping pong,
YouTube
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