Once again it’s been a while since my last track on the virtual lp. I’ve started playing piano again of late. Not sure what’s triggered it, but it’s fun. Here’s a mimosa toast to piano, on this Saturday morn.
Specifically, my daughter brought home a great Disney songbook, which led to this here mini-cover of “Everybody Wants to Be a Cat” from Disney’s immortal Aristocats. (Not to be confused with more recent and slightly more mortal flick entitled The Aristocrats, particularly on family movie night.)
Thanks for listening…..
-Cecil
time: 1:35 seconds; specs: 2.1 MB
Press Play to play.
note: updated from Saturday’s initial version.
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Four more things we learned writing “Mankind’s Last Hope”
A week or two ago I took a crack at jotting down a few lessons learned from the MLH experience. Here are four more before it all fades into sandy dream fragments……
1. There are life-enhancing creative outcomes short of Hollywood-style success
Several years back I ended a lengthy writer’s block by figuring out that there were plenty of worthwhile things you could write that weren’t novels. Like screenplays, for example. And poems. And ditties.
This time around I learned that there are plenty of lovely things you can do with a screenplay short of getting it a slot next to 30 Rock. Not that I wouldn’t love a slot next to 30 Rock if you happen to know Tina Fey. She’s so funny.
2. Sugar can be chemically transformed into giggles
One of the shows was a little rough, in part because the theater was particularly warm. The next day I was talking with a Hollywood-style writer about the heat. He told me there’s a rule of thumb in sitcom-land that they keep the theaters at 60 or somesuch. He also said they hand out lots of cookies before the show. So we brought donut holes that night, opened the windows for the whole show and: hey presto — slightly overweight humans laughing! (Actually our audiences were remarkably fit. Disturbingly fit. It was weird.)
3. Ti-ming? Time-ing? Timing
One of the most interesting things for me and co-writer Jeff was seeing lines that we didn’t think were especially funny get some of the best responses. “Spencer” in particular had this one line: “That is disturbing on so many levels” — huge roar every night. Even when the house was too hot and there tweren’t a cookie in sight. It’s not a bad line. Not a great line. But really, the line didn’t matter. It was all about the timing. He was on the beat, like a point guard feeding the power forward a pass that’s right on the bounce. Slam dunk.
4. The audience needs to be in on the joke
The night before we opened we had a preview show for a select few. The cast did great but the response was low-key. We talked about it afterwards and concluded that the problem was that we hadn’t told our remarkably fit audience what to expect and how we wanted them to behave. The next night, director Bob stormed the stage with a rousing monologue that set the show up. told people where the commercials were going to play, where we’d roll credits. He told them we wanted them to laugh loud. To boo the bad guys. And it made all the difference. It seems obvious now, but it’s easy to forget: If you’re asking people to laugh, you gotta bring them along for the ride.
An Interview with Dan Wilson, Part Two
photo credit: James Minchin.
Welcome to the second half of this two-part interview with musician Dan Wilson (Trip Shakespeare, Semisonic), whose new solo CD, Free Life, was just released by American Records/Columbia. If you haven’t already read the first part, be sure to check it out to hear about the summer day Wilson wrote his first song, the key role titles play in his songwriting process, and why art is a volume business.
Dan Wilson on the Web: Dan Wilson.com, Dan Wilson on MySpace, Free Life
CV: I’d heard Semisonic’s song “DND” several times before learning that “DND” referred to the “Do Not Disturb” signs in hotels. I wondered what your thoughts were on how much you want to let your listeners in on the particulars behind your lyrics?
DW: This is an important question. I’m torn about it. On the one hand, I’m a talkative guy who has a lot of ideas and they naturally come out in my lyrics. So I often am tempted to explain my songs, or at least tempted to lay out for interviewers (and through them, listeners) the thoughts or ideas or stories behind my songs.
But on the other hand, I have a vivid memory of being a kid and reading an interview with Paul McCartney wherein he said that his song “Jet” was about a dog. Not only that one, but “Martha My Dear,” that one was about a dog, too. These were two songs of his that I loved, and I was just deflated by the revelation — I had had my own mental images of the people in both those songs, not that they were visually detailed, but a kind of “songish” vision of the people and the stories. And to learn that these people were dogs was such a letdown.
Now, Sir Paul has every right to write songs about his dogs, I’ve got no problem with that. But in learning that those particular songs were about dogs, I was suddenly deprived of my own pleasant illusion that they were about people. And somehow they shrank in my mind as a result of being explained.
Another factor in all this is that I often don’t know what the songs are about until long after I’ve written them. This makes it tempting to share the interpretation — since in my mind, my explanation is as good as a listener’s. But on the other hand, once I’ve given my interpretation of my own song, it has the quality of being “the last word.” And sometimes, the fans come up with the coolest interpretations of their meanings – way cooler than the interpretation or intention I might have had.
So I try to curb my impulse to explain my songs, lest I shrink them in the ears of fans.
CV: Is there any aspect of the creative process that still intimidates you?
An Interview with Dan Wilson, Part One
photo credit: Steve Cohen.
Dan Wilson first made his mark with Trip Shakespeare, a Minneapolis-based band featuring Wilson, his brother Matt, bassist John Munson, and drummer Elaine Harris. The four produced a catalog of songs noted for soaring harmonies and a quirky sense of humor that was often matched with an unusual slice of hyper-drama. After Trip Shakespeare, Wilson and Munson teamed up with drummer Jake Slichter to form Semisonic. Throughout the late ’90s and into 2001, Semisonic produced shimmering pop, including the hit song “Closing Time,” nominated for Best Rock Song by the 1999 Grammys.
Since Semisonic, Wilson has worked with musicians ranging from Nickel Creek to Mike Doughty (Soul Coughing). In 2007, he shared the Song of the Year Grammy Award with the Dixie Chicks for their hit tune “Not Ready to Make Nice.” Most recently, American Recordings/Columbia released his long-anticipated solo record, Free Life.
This is the first half of a two-part interview. When you’re done here, be sure to check out the second half, in which Wilson talks about how he wrestles with how little (or how much) to let his listeners in on the particulars behind his lyrics, the benefits of Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies, and the creative challenges he faced mixing his new album.
Dan Wilson on the Web: Dan Wilson.com, Dan Wilson on MySpace, Free Life
Cecil Vortex: What’s the first song you remember writing?
Dan Wilson: I can’t remember the title of the first song I wrote, but I do remember the day. My family was up in northern Minnesota on vacation on this particular clear, hot, summer day. I think I was twelve years old. My parents had bought me a guitar, maybe for my birthday in May.
My parents listened to The Beatles the whole time I was growing up: Sgt. Pepper and Abbey Road. So the first book of sheet music they bought me was Beatles Complete. I think my brother Matt and I had been figuring out the chords in the book all summer. I believe that it was Matt’s idea to write songs — so he wrote one and I wrote one. We did the songs bit by bit over the course of the afternoon on our parents’ bed. In between “songwriting” we’d run out to the ditch by the road and play war with our plastic army men.
When we were done with the songs, we wrote out the lyrics on typing paper, with the titles boldly written on the top of the sheets. Very official. I’m trying to remember them but I can’t. I liked Matt’s more. The lyrics of mine seemed not so great to me. But the melody was satisfying — I remember thinking it sounded like a George Harrison song. Which I guess tells us which Beatle is mine.
I think the impulse came partly from just wanting something to do on a summer day. But also, once you have a bunch of the chords under your hands, you start to realize that “I can do this too.”
I told a painter friend of mine once that the reason I made paintings was often that I’d seen someone else’s painting that I liked, and I wanted to have one for my own. My friend replied that Picasso said the same thing: He’d see a masterpiece in the Louvre and say to himself, “I can do that! I want one of those.”
CV: Did you generally write songs on your own back then, or collaboratively with your brother? And what was your creative process like?
Mankind’s Last Hope: Opening Night Report
So, last night was the big opening. And it was a swell time indeed. A hilarious romp even. Fantastic audience (full house!) with Bob Lundy-Paine as our MC. And the whole cast and crew were just completely on their game. Blew me away.
To see the look in my daughter’s eyes (she’s grown up with these characters)…. Happy happy happy.
And tonight, we do it all over again. (8 pm — all the details here.)
A few photos to mark the event, courtesy of ace producer Tracey Rhys:
Volcanic Burt (Tony Jonick)
Alex, the feral monkey (Chloe Bronzan)
Dimwitted Hank in an emotional moment (Kenneth Sears)
I heart creative collaboration (aka Mankind’s Last Hope — starts next Friday!)
Perhaps I’ve already mentioned that my pal Jeff Green and I co-wrote a post-apocalyptic workplace comedy called Mankind’s Last Hope that’s being staged and filmed in the SF East Bay (by Virago Theatre Group) starting a week from Friday — October 26 (with tickets available now)?
When Jeff and I handed the script over, I told the director (Robert Lundy-Paine) that I was hoping to try and stay out of his/their way — I wanted to let them take it from there.
(1) I’d recently started a new job and knew I wouldn’t have much time to help, much less meddle, (2) I really trust the director and Virago, and (3) as a bunch of us saw with the Monkey Vortex experience, there’s just something really really really fun and interesting about giving people the freedom to take something you started and make it their own.
Everything about the process so far has really proven that point out. As previously blogged, the director got sometimes Stryper keyboardist Brent Jeffers to produce a beautiful theme song for us. He brought in a choreographer and they collectively reworked a smallish song in the second act into a potentially show-stopping musical number. A great graphic artist pulled together a beautiful poster (see below). Every cast member has added something lovely to their character that I hadn’t anticipated. One of them even created a rockin’ mini-movie providing a suspenseful slice of backstory for the oft-befuddled “Hank.” (also also see below) And there’s so much I haven’t even seen yet — the sound/lighting set up, the set, the costumes and makeup, the way they’re going film the show with 3 (three!) cameras.
And that’s why I’m here to say: I heart creative collaboration.
Something like 30 people have been working away, and I’m really excited to see the results. So let me exhort you to come on out. There — I exhort you!
(As an added bonus, if you know me well enough for us to engage in financial transactions, drop me an email so I can tell you how I can get you 2 (two!) bucks off the already low regular ticket price of $17….)
-Cecil
The beautiful poster:
A suspenseful backstory movie for (and by) the oft-befuddled Hank:
I’ll admit it
I ate a chocolate whopper today. A cookie that was so chocolatey that
in the molecular space where there’s usually air
or maybe some kind of eerie vacuum
with a faint ringing tone
there was no air or vacuum. There was
more chocolate.
At the time I thought I’d earned it.
I thought the math of my last few days
the good things I’d done, the bad things, the easy moments I’d had, the challenges
had all added up to
it being OK
for me to consume
a chocolate whopper.
At the time.
That’s what I thought.
An Interview with Matt Wagner, Part Two
Photo credit: Greg Preston.
Welcome to the second half of this two-part interview with Matt Wagner, award-winning comic book writer and illustrator, and creator of Mage and Grendel. If you haven’t already read the first part of this interview, be sure to check it out to hear Wagner talk about the birth of Mage, and why comic book creations often look like their creators. You can find it here.
Matt Wagner on the Web: mattwagnercomics.com
CV: I recently read your Batman run — the “Dark Moon Rising” books. Could you describe where the idea for those books came from?
MW: They’re actually based on two of my favorite Golden Age Batman stories from the late ’30s and early ’40s. They’re both pre-Robin stories — before Robin shows up. “The Mad Monk” is in Detective Comics #31 and #32. #31 you’ll recognize — it has a very famous cover; it’s a huge image of Batman looming up over a small castle in the foreground. There’s a moon behind him, and he has absolutely ginormous bat ears. In fact, when you look it up, you’ll go, “Oh, of course — that cover.” The other one, “Hugo Strange and the Monster Men,” was in Batman #1.
Part of the fun of playing with somebody else’s toys is the challenge of trying to tell a story where some of the playing pieces are already in place on the board. In the world of Grendel, in the world of Mage, I’m the absolute god. Whatever I say happens, happens, and there’s never any question. With Batman there are many other aspects to consider. [Also,] any work I’ve done for DC, I always like to work early in a character’s career because I hate the giant, extended, huge continuity crap you have to deal with in their world. And I’ve just always liked primary-motivation stories.
So I decided there was a missing link in the early Batman tales, where we needed to see his transition from Batman Year One — the Frank Miller/David Mazzucchelli classic storyline where he’s fighting just thugs and mobsters — to his more established litany of costumed crazies that eventually becomes his absolute normalcy, you want to call it that [laughter]. And so I decided to take these two early stories and revamp them into a modern setting. I wanted to dig deep into the actual origins of this character.
Those early primal Batman tales are neat because the conventions that have since become established as being comic-booky were fresh and new and were based more on a pulp tradition than what we think of as comic cooks. And they were just so unfettered and raw. So I took those and tried to squeeze them into DC’s continuity and make them work.
CV: What’s your creative process when you’re tackling a project like this — what sort of thought bubble might we see over your head while you’re at your desk?
An Interview with Matt Wagner, Part One
Image (c) copyright Matt Wagner.
Matt Wagner is a comic book writer and illustrator, best known for his original comics Mage and Grendel (winner of three Eisner awards) and a five-year run on Sandman Mystery Theater, as well as for recent stints on Batman and on Trinity, a three-issue miniseries featuring Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman.
This is the first half of a two-part interview. Be sure to also check out the second half, in which Wagner talks about how Mage is like a Zen journey, and what makes for good comic-book storytelling.
Matt Wagner on the Web: mattwagnercomics.com
Cecil Vortex: Were you a storyteller as a young boy?
Matt Wagner: I was. My father, and this dates him quite a bit, used to say I was vaccinated with a Victrola needle because I was very talkative…. My parents like to tell a tale of when I was quite young. I must have been five or something like that. We had literally — I kid you not — a door-to-door Bible salesman come to the door one day selling these lavishly illustrated Bibles. We were going through it and I was pointing out all the illustrations and saying, “Oh, look this is Noah, this is Jonah, Jesus” etc., etc., and we got to a picture of Adam and Eve in their loincloths in the Garden of Eden and I turned to my dad, apparently, and said, “Dad, Tarzan!” [laughter] So I think I was doomed for this profession from the very beginning.
My mother was an English teacher before she became a full-time mom, and a huge proponent of reading, so she made sure I was an early and vigorous reader. Coupled with that was the fact that I was an only child. I grew up in the middle of Pennsylvania in Amish country — we lived out away from most other houses…. I drew to entertain myself because there wasn’t much video entertainment in those days. I think we had probably three or four TV stations initially. And so I was a vigorous reader and I drew. And comic books were both writing and drawing all rolled into one and just became the magic quotient for me.
CV: So you were headed for comics from the start?