Smarter than he looks

There are few things I love more than surprising brainiacs — and I don't mean sneaking up on Alfred Einstein and yelling "boo!" I mean people who surprise you by being far, far smarter and more accomplished than you ever thought they were.

Like whom, you ask?

Like Kris Kristofferson — depending on how old you are, you might remember him as Obi Wan (c'mon, he is!) in Blade, or as the only cool thing about the vastly unfortunate Streisand remake of A Star is Born.

I bet you anything you don't know half what you think you know about this guy. Seriously, check out this bio of him written in 1958 in Sports Illustrated:

"This dashing young man in the Rugby outfit plays standoff on the team at Pomona College in California, where he is a senior. But this is only a small facet of 21-year-old Kris Kristofferson's amazing record. He is also starting left end on the varsity football team, a Golden Gloves boxer, sports editor of the college paper, outstanding cadet in the ROTC battalion of which he is cadet commander. As an English major he is an honor student and member of the four-man senior honor society on campus. Kris won four of the top 20 awards recently given in a creative writing contest for college students. He composes folk songs which he sings to his own guitar accompaniment. And to crown this varied list of accomplishments Kris is a Rhodes scholar-elect, one of 32 young Americans chosen to go to Oxford this fall.

Yep. A Golden Gloves boxer and a Rhodes Scholar. Not to mention, he's been nominated for an Oscar, won a Grammy or three, won a Golden Globe and in 1985, he was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame (you do know he wrote Me and Bobby McGee, right?). And that picture... Crazy Heart, anyone?

Hear that? That's Kris Kristofferson yelling "boo!"

You have to see it to believe it

Say hello to my little friend.

The lion, the witch and the wardrobe? Nope.

The scarecrow, the tin man and the cowardly lion? Uh uh.

Clapton, Lennon and Richards?

Duh.

Sneaky, sneaky Hitchock.

From the minds that brought you Star Wars, Ziggy Stardust and The Muppets comes...

Don't quit your day job, guys.

2011 Without Steve Jobs?

Can you imagine the world without the iPod? The iPhone? iPad? Pretty weird, huh?

Most people under the age of 30 probably won’t believe this, but... Apple did not invent the portable music player. That would have been Sony, in 1979, with something called the “walkman." Nor did Apple invent the laptop, the tablet, or the cell phone. In the last 10 years, under CEO Steve Jobs’ leadership, it only seemed as though it did.

Last month, Steve Jobs announced his resignation from Apple, leaving a legacy of breathtaking design innovation and juggernaut market dominance. Instead of invention, Apple focuses on transformation, impacting our expectations as much as, if not more than, our capabilities. Apple didn't invent those consumer products, it's true — what it did do was redefine them.

Believe it or not, it was only 10 years ago, in 2001, that Steve Jobs introduced the very first iPod. Which, with an LCD screen, a click wheel and a whopping 5Gb of storage, retailed for $399. (FYI, the current iPod Classic comes with a full color screen and 160Mb of storage — and retails for $249.) While Sony brought us a miniature version of our same music experience, Apple gave us an entirely new music experience.

The iPod was simple, slick and — with the iTunes 99¢/song music store — so easy, my grandmother could use it. As Steve Jobs put it, “design is not just what it looks like and feels like. Design is how it works.” Sure, hindsight is 20/20, but here are what a few analysts and reporters had to say about the device (from CNET.com) at the time:

“An analyst at NPD Intelect said that the iPod… may have trouble digging out a niche in the market.”

“An IDC analyst said Apple may take some heat for entering the consumer electronics market, which typically has lower profit margins than Apple gets from its computers… but… It's another incentive for them that can convince people to buy a Mac.”

Let’s see. Dig out a market niche? Check. Lower profit margins? Hmm… not so much; it’s estimated that Apple makes close to 60 percent profit on each iPhone. As for convincing people to buy a Mac? That may be so, but as of 2010, the iPod and iPhone accounted for twice as much of Apple’s revenues than the entire Mac product line.

And so the iRevolution began.

Author and consultant Simon Sinek, in his presentation at the TED conference, talks about what makes Apple stand out. Apple, he says, doesn’t tell you they make computers and music players and cell phone — all of which look cool and work great. No, what Apple tells you is this: “Everything we do – we believe in challenging the status quo. We believe in thinking differently. The way we challenge the status quo is by making our products beautifully designed, simple to use and user-friendly. We just happen to make great computers (music players, cell phones). Wanna buy one?”

Apple may not be responsible for inventing the laptop, the tablet, or the cell phone, but Steve Jobs is responsible for changing our perspective and raising our expectations of how those things should work — for us.

My kind of peeps

Don't you just love it when you stumble onto a brainwave that's in sync with your own whacked out brainwave?
And when that brainwave is online, happily snarking about movies and TV and books and pop culture in general, well, it just sends my brainwaves into a veritable spasm of glee.
The A.V. Club is "an entertainment newspaper and website published by The Onion"—that's how they put it. So humble.
They have a movie review category "I Watched This on Purpose"—current entries include The DaVinci Code and Max Payne. I feel for you, man.
There's a column called The Hater. Seriously, it's her job to snark.

When you see the words "Cougar Town" smashed together like that in your line of vision, what image stumbles to the front of your mind? A zoo enclosure, maybe? A cartoon about a city run by anthropomorphized mountain lions? Knives, just many, many sharp knives? The Real Housewives Of New York City? Courtney Cox drunkenly slurring "you're hot as balls" at some guy at a club?

Well, if you said that last one, you work for ABC.

Ouch.

And how can you not like a TV reviewer who says "Jane Lynch is, of course, hilarious, though she only pops up here and there, like a secret comedic weapon"? Or a music review that uses Eminem and Oprah in the same sentence? What about a "Gateway to Geekery"? Expressly designed to "help those who want to be enthralled, but aren’t sure where to start" become obsessed with some pocket of pop culture. Because lord knows we need help there.

Inducting Brick, you know, that movie that recognizes that "the common denominator between crime fiction and high school is a mood of heightened emotion obscured by a thin veneer of cool," into the site's New Cult Canon of film seals the deal. Brick is up there with Repo Man ("straddling the borderline between the New Cult Canon and the Old, Alex Cox's grubby, shaggy-dog tale feels like the starting line for modern dark-comedy indies"). Any site that has the chops to recognize that is a site for me.

It isn't every day you find an e-kindred spirit.

That's one expensive song, dude

Josh Freese, singer of that hit song "Since 1972" (not to be confused with that hit song "1972" by Josh Rouse), soon to be released on the hopefully hit album "Since 1972," has come up with a unique pricing structure.

Digital download of the album, including three videos: $7

-Signed CD/DVD and digital download. -T-shirt -Signed Cymbal, Drum head and Drumsticks. -Josh washes your car OR does your laundry....or you can wash his car. -Have dinner with Josh aboard the "Queen Mary" in Long Beach, CA -Get drunk and cut each other's hair in the parking lot of the Long Beach courthouse (filmed and posted on youtube of course): $10,000

-Signed CD/DVD and digital download -T-shirt -Go on tour with Josh for a few days. -Have Josh write, record and release a 5 song EP about you and your life story. -Take home any of his drumsets (only one but you can choose which one.) -Take shrooms and cruise Hollywood in Danny from TOOL's Lamborgini OR play quarters and then hop on the Ouija board for a while. -Josh will join your band for a month...play shows, record, party with groupies, etc.... -If you don't have a band he'll be your personal assistant for a month (4 day work weeks, 10 am to 4 pm) -Take a limo down to Tijuana and he'll show you how it's done (what that means exactly we can't legally get into here) -If you don't live in Southern California (but are a US resident) he'll come to you and be your personal assistant/cabana boy for 2 weeks. -Take a flying trapeze lesson with Josh and Robin from NIN, go back to Robin's place afterwards and his wife will make you raw lasagna: $75,000

Getting your debut album talked about in newspapers and blogs coast to coast before it's even released? Priceless.

You've got a friend...

So you may (or may not) remember a certain rant of mine—that once on Facebook, it is well nigh impossible to get off.

In for a penny, in for a pound; I stuck with it and discovered it wasn't so bad. And then I was friended (when, oh when, did that become a verb—worse, when did I give in and start using it as one??) by someone I hadn't spoken to in over 10 years. That was nifty. And nice. And made me think maybe there was something to this online social networking thing after all.

And then I began to realize it was a good way to get in touch and stay in touch with people I never would—high school, college, work, yadda yadda yadda. Everything it says it is. Go figure.

But that all pales, PALES, in comparison to what happened to me on January 5th. On January 5, 2009, Carole King friended me. Some few of you will understand the magnitude of that. And for those who don't, chew on this: in 2007, my best friend and I flew to Tokyo for a day and a half—just to go to a Carole King concert (Mary J. Blige and Fergie performed too). Which was unbelievable—and which is not the concert pictured above, if you were wondering, I just thought that the happenstance of Carole and JT back together again was a picture worth, well, you know... this was actually a year later and, happily, in Los Angeles and was also un-flipping-believable. I should know—I went twice.

All I'm saying is, I have nothing bad to say about Facebook. Nuthin'.

No coffee, video?

Since April, Starbucks has been offering a "pick of the week" - music and music videos available free on iTunes - to its customers. Well, to anyone who walks in and takes a "pick of the week" card, actually.

But, as per Starbucks' habit of coming up with nifty promotions and then not actually promoting them (which brings a whole new perspective to the concept of consumer marketing), no one really seems to know about it.

I had this conversation last week with one of the baristas when I asked if my venti iced coffee would be the same price as a grande if I bought it with my Starbucks card.

The cashier looked at me like I had two, maybe three, heads. I didn't make this promo up, mind you - I read it somewhere, and in a Starbucks too. Off he scuttled to find someone else to take care of my clearly outrageous request.

It turns out the promotion I read was for frappucinos only - but the manager (yes, this question required a manager) quite nicely offered to honor the promotion even on my lowly iced coffee. The conversation we had was even more interesting... no matter how hard he tries, he cannot seem to publicize effectively the various promotions and benefits that Starbucks offers to its customers. The little promo cards fall off (didja catch that? they're "little"), the managers aren't fully notified of new policies (such as the free soy and flavor syrup upgrades for Starbucks card users), and on and on. Hmph.

For all of Howard's claims to the contrary, and I don't really (ok, maybe I do a little) doubt he's trying, it's not really seeming like he means it.

But I did get Duffy's Mercy for free this week - so that's something, anyway.

Thanks, Howie.

Carole, Carole, Carole...

When all else fails, write about what you know - or what you love. Clearly, all roads lead to Carole King...

But they start with Cary Grant, inimitable as always in The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer:

"Hey, you remind me of a man."
"What man?"
"The man with the power."
"What power?"
"The power of hoodoo."
"Who do?"
"You do."
"Do what?"
"Remind me of a man."
"What man?"
"The man with the power."
"What power? Oh, never mind!"

How, you're thinking to yourself (I know you are), am I going to get from there to Carole King? After all, she's no Kevin Bacon. Don't you worry your pretty little head - just leave the heavy lifting to me. Do try to keep up, though.

Sidney Sheldon wrote the screenplay for The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer in 1947 (and, by the way, won an Oscar for same). That same Sheldon - whom you may be more familiar with as a pulp fiction novelist from the 70s and 80s - also created the TV show I Dream of Jeannie in 1964. Stay with me now... Carole King and Gerry Goffin wrote a theme song for that show, although their theme wasn't the one used. Don't know why, but it wasn't. Hmph.

Some 35 years later, however, Carole did get her TV theme song, albeit for a Lorelai, not a Jeannie.

Where you lead, I will follow... anywhere that you tell me to. If you need, if you need me to be with you, I will follow, where you lead.

Who could say it better than that?

Taylor to the third

The Taylors are a formidable bunch - especially now that they're all out in full force.

We're all familiar with James (if you're not, I don't want to know you. Seriously, stop reading my blog. Now. I mean it.)

And possibly familiar with his son Ben... whom I used to see at my gym in New York. Which is immaterial to his music, but kinda cool. He was ripped. And had a cool tattoo on his arm. Anyway, I've been hearing his music more and more - and liking it more and more. I just downloaded Another Run Around the Sun - nice, nice nice.

So, the other day, I was listening to the radio (satellite radio, which is all I ever listen to anymore) and I thought, is that James Taylor? It sounds like, but not like... Sort of the way, when I hear that voice that sounds almost-but-not-quite-like Ella Fitzgerald, I know it's Sarah Vaughn. Or when I hear a sort-of-young-not-quite Frank Sinatra, I know it's Matt Monro.

Now I know that almost-but-not-quite JT voice belongs to Livingston Taylor, James' younger brother. He sounds like James Taylor, but different. Hmmm, Ben sounds like James too. But differently than Livingston's different. (Follow that?)

I don't know if they'd think that's good or bad - but in this case, genes are genes, and the Taylor sound will out. These boys sound the same, and they sound different. Which is just fine by me - as far as I'm concerned, you can't have too much Taylor music in the universe, so keep it coming, boys, keep it coming.

That's my pig

The things you miss when you leave the party early. I wasn't there (don't ask, I just wasn't), but Roger Waters closed the Coachella music festival Sunday night with several firsts:

the longest set ever (two and a half hours)

the only intermission ever (20 minutes)

the first inflatable pig (the size of a school bus)

the first inflatable pig on the run (see ya!)

Really. It slipped its bonds and floated free into the night sky. "That's my pig," Roger Waters was heard to say, as he watched it sail away.

N.B. It has since been found, or at least, what is left of it - shreds and tatters scattered on driveways in a nearby desert town, never to be inflated again. Sigh.

Coachella break fast

Sorry for the delay... I was, believe it or not, happily rocking out to the music (some of it, anyway) at Coachella.

Jack Johnson played Friday night - from Banana Pancakes to Eyes in the Back of My Head, I love his music. He's Jimmy Buffett for our generation. Just hearing his guitar puts me in a better mood.

To tell you the truth, Coachella is not so much my scene - if I had my druthers, I'd be there next weekend for Stagecoach - The Eagles, Trisha Yearwood, John Fogerty, Shelby Lynne, Tim McGraw... sign me up.

But my friends are Coachella all the way... we had a sweet (off the hook!) house and I had a great time. Great weather, good music, great friends - doesn't get much better than that.

And Prince played Saturday night. He played his stuff, and he covered some other stuff, and he evidently got paid $4.5 million for the performance. He put on a show. A spectacle. Unreal. He is Prince after all. Say what you will - that man is tal-ent-ed. I left early because where I was something was funky with the sound, but as I was leaving I could hear "Little Red Corvette" from behind the stage - unbelievable. And I heard he performed a cover of Radiohead's "Creep" that was off the charts.

Coachella is an experience. It's not for everyone, sure. But if you can live and let live, it is a spectacle that has to be seen and felt to be believed.

And by the way - same weekend, different state, a friend of mine shot a 75 - that's worth mentioning. And he had the best breakfast ever. Also worth mentioning.

Pandora's box

Funny the things you assume everyone knows about, and then you find out that they don't.
How does that happen?

You think everyone knows that Jiminy Cricket was Pinocchio's conscience, until you're talking to someone one day and casually drop the Jiminy Cricket reference into your conversation, and they look at you like your nose is growing too large for your face.

You think everyone has heard the commercial jingle "Peak Freens are a very serious cookie. Cookie." Until you realize that you can't even find this anywhere on the internet and that anyone who didn't grow up on the east coast thinks you're a freak-teen for thinking this is common knowledge.

You think everyone can sing Conjunction Junction, until you realize you're just damn old and only your friends from 1st grade have a clue what you're talking about.


Which is a real shame, by the by, as Conjunction Junction rocks. And everyone should know it, if only to be able to sing it. Let alone that they should actually know the part of speech the "conjunction."

Regardless, I thought everyone knew about Pandora - an internet site that basically lets you create your own radio station formats. In honor of a good friend, I have a station called "female suicide music" as well as a "mellow to my toes" station (not in honor of anyone - except maybe my toes, which are actually pretty cute, and possibly quite worth honoring).

If you don't know about it, and you like music, it's worth checking out. Create a station, many stations. Add artists, add songs. You know, that you like. Pandora plays music all day long related to your selections. The part I love is that you can give the ol' thumbs up or down to songs as they play. Can't stand that new Plain White Tees song? Thumbs down and it'll NEVER show up again. What radio station can say that?

I could drive you crazy

Every now and then I stumble on a song I will listen to incessantly. Truly. Over and over and over and over again. To the point that my friends have stolen CDs out of my room, never, ever to be returned. (Connie - I forgive you. Honest.)

I don't think the list of songs like this is all that long. And I don't really remember them once I'm over them. I'm kinda fickle that way. Though sometimes the experience does stick - remember the song by Des'ree, "You Gotta Be"? I'm pretty sure my roommate at the time was aching to pitch me out the window in front of an oncoming crosstown bus. Or truck. Or cab. I'm sure any moving vehicle would've satisfied her.

I can go months, years even, without a song that I have to hear constantly. And then WHAM! POW! Holy melody & lyrics, Batman!

So, these days it's "You're the World To Me" by David Gray.

"You don't have to turn the sound up
Babe I want you from the ground up
Baby baby you're the world to me"

Over and over and over and over again. What can I tell you? I'm pathetic.

Late to the party, but I know I good thing when I hear it

Here's the way it is. I HATE reality shows. Hate, loathe, despise, detest, abhor, not to mention disparage, scorn and disdain. That's just me. If you like 'em - more power to ya. As my grandmother used to say - that's what makes horse races.

Me - when I watch TV, I either want to see a smart-aleck review current events (Bill Maher, Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, you know...) or I want to see some escapist fiction, with pretty people and good writing (kinda like Juno, though probably not as good - but don't get me started). I just have absolutely no desire to see real people do stupid things. I see that every day, anyway.

And I get that there are also those talent-based competition shows - the dancing and singing ones. I was sort of neutral on those - they don't fit my beautiful people/smart dialogue criteria, but I've always been a sucker for a good spelling bee, so I get them, at least a bit more than the "I'm going to chew on a live scorpion now" shows.

And then two years ago, I got sucked in. And I mean with a giant sucking noise I got sucked in! I disappeared every Tuesday and Wednesday night to watch Bucky, Taylor, Kellie, Chris, Katherine, Ace and the rest of them battle it out on American Idol.

Until the end. Look, I was fine with the final three (Katherine McPhee - the pretty girl with a sweet voice, Taylor Hicks - the quirky guy from the South with a shtick, and Chris Daughtry - the charismatic rocker who could put it out there). But then it was clear, it should have been Chris and Katherine and then it should have been Chris. Taylor Hicks? As they say - WTF? Taylor Hicks? Are you kidding? And that was that. I was done. D-O-N-E. Done. As far as I was concerned, that was exactly why I hate (abhor, detest, despise, well - you know the drill) reality shows. Because even though this was supposed to be talent based, evidently I still had to suffer from real people (the audience) doing stupid things. Feh.

Oh, and can we just note, for the record, that as of early January this year, Katherine McPhee, Ms 2nd Place, had sold somewhere around 366,000 albums, Taylor Hicks a whopping 700,000 and Chris Daughtry? He'd sold 3.6 million. Yeah. Million. (Plus - I hear Daughtry on the radio all the time and I like it. I have yet to hear a Taylor Hicks song. Not once. Ever. Not that this bothers me from a musical standpoint, mind you, but that's not the point.)

Why am I dredging all this up? Well, I've heard some murmurs that this year's American Idol is worth watching. And, as you can tell, I'm just a tad reluctant to put a dog in that fight again. Still, I try to keep an open mind - so I put it on in the background the other night as I was writing some stuff. It was boys night and made for fine background noise. Until the last singer. No joke, I stopped working to listen. This kid, David A, is something else. He was mesmerizing.

And if he doesn't make it to the final two, well, at least I'll know I'm right about reality TV of all stripes. And I really don't want to be right. Not this time.

Can't you just feel the moon shine?

All right, this will (really) not be a surprise to anyone who knows me well, or even a little. I kind of have a thing for Carole King. Not really a small thing either. Kind of a big thing. I mean, I flew with my best friend to Tokyo earlier this month just to see her perform.

So last week, you can only imagine my state of alt when I saw Carole King perform with James Taylor in a venue the size of a shoebox. As my friend Melani put it – a Gillian-dream-come-true night. And it was.

The joke has always been “I want to be Carole when I grow up” – not that I wanted to be a songwriter or singer (a good thing, considering I can’t carry a note in bucket) – what I wanted to be was as thoroughly immersed in my talent, as astoundingly generous with it, and having as much fun as she always seems to be. And did she, and he, ever have fun back where they’d performed together 30 some odd years before (“evidently,” quipped JT, claiming not to remember much of that time period at all). 

Did you know that James calls Carole “baby grand?” Or that he heard, and remembers hearing despite earlier confessions, Carole sing “You’ve Got a Friend” right there in the Troubadour and asking her if he could put it on his album? “You did a good job with it,” she told him last week with a wink, RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. 

In my mind, I’m going to Carole King – can’t you just see the sunshine?