glvalentine: (nerd alert)
They're not just narratives; they're snapshots in time, moments of pure joy.

Just like this scene from The Lost Boys, which came out in July of 1987. This means that they probably filmed in 1986, that moment when the 80s were just realizing what they could really become. It was a time of innocence and wonder; a time when a man needed only purple tights, leather underwear, and some chains to be fully dressed; a time when Jami Gertz had a promising career. (Remember Quicksilver? Anyone?...anyone?)



Full disclosure: this actually takes me back to a time when I was in high school and taking Photography. This was back when you had to know how to wind the film on the spokes in the dark and then pour in the developer and shake the canister, and if you did one thing wrong you ended up with a bunch of underdeveloped splotches and chemical burns on your hands, and then you had to develop each of the prints by hand using a series of complicated machines that they use for background props in movies like Splice now.

With the hours and hours of after-school work necessary to take that photo of your parents' backyard and make it into something you could pass off as your "Garden" assignment (because your photos of the Botanical Gardens looked like a thin black plate with some cottage cheese on it), you had to have something to listen to as you stumbled around in the darkroom accidentally bleaching the crap out of your clothes. And for whatever reason, the soundtrack to The Lost Boys did the trick, and I must have spent about 800 man-hours that year with it on repeat on my Discman (FOR CDs - WOW, this was long ago).

That is to say: this clip is cheesy and dorky and hilarious, and I am fully implicated in it, because I have heard this song about a bajillion times in my youth, and I probably loved it every time.

A Carol.

Dec. 25th, 2009 08:48 pm
glvalentine: (valemon)
But since I can't sing, we'll let Chanticleer do it instead.

Here's the thing about this iteration of Chanticleer: CDs don't do them justice, and even this DVD, which is awesome, doesn't get it across because of the multiple mics picking up some voices more strongly than others. When we heard this Chanticleer live, it was even more balanced and smooth - really, one of the best live performances of anything that I've seen. The next year, half these guys left, and the magic was gone. Basically, this DVD of them is one of my #1 arguments for why recordings are so great - sure, it's good now, but it could suck at any moment!

Luckily, this moment was not one of those, and they deliver my all-time favorite arrangement of "Ave Maria," by Franz Biebl. It's a lovely piece of liturgical music that goes perfectly with a quiet, snowy night at home.



(Home for Christmas; regular posting will probably resume next week.)
glvalentine: (valemon)
So, someday I will have to start a series of posts about movie composers I love - or rather, film scores, because there are scores I love more than The Lord of the Rings, but after listening to Howard Shore talk about writing this, he's probably my favorite composer, personality-wise. I just want to buy him a beer, you know? He seems really chill.

I wrote it up for Tor.com, and included a little shout-out to linguist David Salo, who was seriously the shit. (Dude, if you have Google Alerts turned on, I would totally read that proof, for serious.)

Decided to cut for spoilers, even though people have had like sixty years to catch up on what happened. )
glvalentine: (valemon)
For someone who was only ever a casual fan of the Lord of the Rings books, I am a nerd and a half for the movies. I have been to every midnight show. (I brought MY MOM to every midnight show. Step back!) Those evenings were some of the coldest ever (movie theatres really don't want to let Lord of the Rings people in, for some reason), but I remember each one being a blast, for several reasons.

It's a time machine into my past! The movies were different, my love of midnight shows was the same. )

The midnight shows and the Symphony cemented in my mind that if you are really a fan of something, and you are among other fans of that thing, you will be able to enjoy the work while respecting the right of those around you to enjoy the work as well.

As you can tell, I was very young. Also, an idiot.

This weekend I went to The Fellowship of the Ring in Concert at Radio City. I wrote it up for Tor.com, lamenting the loss of the music to the volume of 1) the movie and 2) the audience. The music I'll discuss more in-depth later this week (it's a post of its own), but I was pearl-clutchingly dispapointed at the audience reactions at Friday's performance.

They applauded favorite moments or actors, and would often drown out beautiful music cues doing so. If you're applauding big musical moments, that's cool, but overall it seemed like the audience would have been just as happy with an IMAX screening. I totally get it (IMAX screenings are awesome), but in that case they should have gone to see an IMAX screening, you know? People were working hard onstage to deliver a concert, and the audience kept drowning it out because they felt like applauding when Arwen drowns the Wraiths. (They drowned out Arwen's soloist for like, ten seconds! RUDE.)

This ends my moment of being everyone's demanding 85-year-old gran. Tomorrow: music nerdery!

HANNIBAL.

Jul. 25th, 2009 05:47 pm
glvalentine: (Default)
You know what makes me angry every time I think about it? Hannibal. (Not the historical figure, though I'm sure he was probably unpleasant depending on where in the Alps you lived.)

Cut for people who for some ungodly reason will one day read this word-salad novel, and don't want to know what they're getting into. )
glvalentine: (Default)
I have been working all day. My soundtrack has been this song on repeat:



I love the Astaire-long cuts, the sense of playfulness, the costumes, the two singers hopping around like dorks, sliding and posing because they're too cool to dance. The black and white with the pop of pink (check out the pink stairs at the end), the random narrative with chasing and French and a sudden change of mind in the last chorus for no reason whatsoever, the wind-up backup dancer - it's just fun times, you know?

ETA: And the lift at the end kills me every time. You kids leave room for the Holy Spirit, okay?
glvalentine: (Default)


I bet she has a list on her dresser:

PEOPLE TO DRESS AS NEXT

Mad Max
St. Lucia Celebration
Lovechild of Mad Hatter and Alice
An eggplant
glvalentine: (Default)
Generally my music-scene knowledge is limited to movie-soundtrack composers, songs I hear on TV, and bands that were around when I was thirteen (Roxette 4ever!). However, once in a while I will see someone and think, "I must find out about this person AT ONCE."



Her name is Lady Gaga, and she kicks everyone's ass in this room.

Also, she's a stalagmite. )
glvalentine: (costume)
Last night I got to see La Traviata at the Met. I took the super-cheap seats in the nosebleed section - absolutely last row, approximately half a mile above sea level, holy crap. I am not afraid of heights, but even I spent a moment hoping that, despite the flaky ceiling, the place would not collapse. That's a long fall.

Anyway, the cheap seats are also where the students sit when their teacher makes them go see an opera so that can talk about it in their European Lit seminar. The place was overrun with expensively-dressed adolescents swapping spit in the middle of Violetta's heartbreaking confrontation with Alfredo's father, where he asks her to leave his son so his daughter's engagement isn't called off. Weeping, she reveals she's dying of The TeeBee and couldn't possibly leave Alfredo, and Dad's like, "Oh, that's sad - so, can I help you pack?"

(Anja Harteros knocks this out of the park, by the way. Most gorgeous Violetta I've ever heard. If you can spare 15 bucks, totally go.)

By the end of the second act (a huge set piece that looks like an honest-to-God ballroom, covered in extras, all with gorgeous costumes - Franco Zefferelli, ladies and gents) Alfredo and Violetta have violently parted - she for his sister's sake, him because he's a total assface and throws money at her in the middle of a party.

Intermission. The lights go up. Teenagers pile out of the cheap seats to go make out noisily in the hallway instead of in the seats.

One girl turns to her friend. "God, I hope they get back together soon!"

So, it was clearly somebody's first opera last night!

Best part - in the last act, Violetta is in the last stages of The TB. The doctor says she has only a few hours to live - but she's feeling better! She's sad - but then Alfredo shows up! They'll be together forever - coughing fit! Nope, nope, she's fine, she'll make it, oh bliss! - hang on, gotta sit down - What's this? Strength fills her, she can take on the world, life is going to hand her every - FALLS DOWN DEAD.

So that girl had a really rollercoaster set of fake-outs, which was fun. (For me.)
glvalentine: (Default)


Neeeerd.

ETA: I really need to write a post on how much I love movie scores, but I whenever I start talking about it feel like I should have a boombox hoisted over my head or something. I'll see if I can put something together other than, "Ooooooh, this too!"

Live music.

Jun. 8th, 2008 07:30 pm
glvalentine: (Default)
I'm not a huge live music person, partially because I have horrible vicarious stage fright that turns me into a wreck during other people's live performances, and partially because I tend to use music as background for writing, in which case live performance is pointless.

However, never let it be said I do things by halves.

The first time I saw live music was four(?) years ago, when my friend E. and I went to see Matthew Good on what turned out to be his breakup tour from his band at the time. He had boycotted American venues. So, we flew up to Toronto, rented a car, drove to Ottowa, stood in line, saw the show, drove back to Toronto, went home. By the time we were driving back to Toronto (E. in the driver's seat), it was snowing, and I was so exhausted that I hallucinated a Holiday Inn. It has since been the source of endless hilarity, though at the time I was bitterly disappointed that it wasn't real.

(Note to hotel developers: that stretch is ripe!)

I just like to remind myself of that little stretch of time whenever I'm tempted to go see someone live. It also helps to remember that, during that concert, Matthew Good was struck by a water bottle thrown by a drunk fan, and walked off after 45 minutes of music.

You know what else is 45 minutes of music? His album. Which I owned already. Just saying.

This is just a reminder to myself that when I book a ticket for live music, it's going to be trouble.
glvalentine: (nerd alert)
My sad-bastard music has served me well!

Also serving me well: my floor fan. Saving freon since 2004!

Emoooo.

May. 31st, 2008 10:29 pm
glvalentine: (Default)
I own a shocking amount of sad-bastard music. In pulling for a story that needed "a sad bit", I came up with FOUR HOURS of sad music.

I'm half-amazed at my own emo, and half-relieved that I have something other than movie soundtracks to fall back on in times of need.

ETA: "Emo" has been changed to "sad-bastard" to protect the amped.
glvalentine: (Default)
"Now the oil refineries belong to ME, only ME. And another thing - you're all FIRED."*

Yeah, I have no taste. I make no secret of it. I revel in cheesy techno and eight-minute maudlin ballads performed by a guy qho can't even see his piano through his bangs. It's fine, say I, to have no taste!

...then I get a look at a friend's request list for his wedding, and my first reaction is, "...I hope you've fired all these friends."

I mean, it's one thing to have no taste. It's another to request Ace of Base at a wedding.

Friends of guy? You're all FIRED.

Also, no David Bowie. Anywhere.

...FIRED.




* Soapdish, baby.

Earwooorm.

Dec. 18th, 2007 10:50 am
glvalentine: (Default)
When I like a song, I reaaaally like a song, and I reaaaaally like "Is There a Ghost" by Band of Horses.

I'm probably behind a trend here and it's like me running up to someone and saying, "Oh man, have you guys heard of this band Snow Patrol?!" and them looking at me like I just came out of the iceberg in which I had been frozen for four years, humming "Run" and waiting for rescue. However, I don't care, because a few days ago I YouTubed them for important business purposes and found the music video they made for it, and I am more in love than ever.

The video is a surrealist fairy-tale about a pillow-stealer. No, really! She steals pillows looking for the one that lets her sleep; people left pillowless take to the streets and duke it out for sleeping implements! It's as weird as it sounds, but also as endearing as it sounds. Plus, the budget for this thing was clearly $100, of which $80 went to feathers.

The lyrics are not going to set the Thames on fire, so don't get your hopes up there, but there's something about this video that I just...love. I especially love the last twenty seconds, because I'm a sucker for any film depiction of drawn-out, intimate, ambigious staring.

So it's like Remains of the Day, but with pillowfights.

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Genevieve Valentine

September 2010

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