Must be the clouds in my eyes.

It was as if Elton John was breathing in my neck last week, like a devilish whisper the automatically sets your mind into some kind of trance. Daniel is leaving tonight on a plane/I can see the red tail lights heading for Spain. Oh now, I know where this is headed – Spain. You know, like a vamos por todos, etc. No, but honestly, you know those times that a song is just so stuck in your head it feels like the notes have been imprinted in your cranium? It’s not even a last song syndrome (LSS) but a last-sung syndrome. As I can remember, the last Elton John I heard before I was suddenly humming Daniel in a soundless jeep, was Your Song, the proverbial piece of my officemate who incessantly thinks he is Ewan McGregor looking for Sabine, while singing it in the videoke. But really, you know when it hounds you and follows you like dirt in your sweaty skin. As if I’m gonna get through with it already, when I traveled this week to an adjacent city, the oldies guitarist in one of the rooftop grills we ate at suddenly belch an oh-so familiar tune. God it looks like Daniel/Must be the clouds in my eyes. I dunno, I’m not really leaving for Spain right now, nor even flying on an airplane. Oh I know, I have to add this to my videoke repertoire next session. I think I may be getting it now. It’s really hits me probably on the leaving part. I’m like on a letting-go-moving-on mode right now. And waka waka couldn’t be any more timing. I think with the WC coinciding, things are looking good in the near future, not that I equate soccer with anything going on right now but maybe there is. Must be the clouds in my eyes.

going for the cutesy.

Okay, like it or not, rigged or not (and I even have my reasons to back this one up), the fact is American Idol is here to stay, or at least it looks like it, proving and pulling once again its enormous strength in its eighth year, despite the Paula cut-down, which I’m sure a lot of the show’s fans actually liked, and the genesis of De Generes, and despite the earlier pronouncement of Simon walking out after this year.

I wasn’t really sure what they’re gunning at especially when the contestants sucked during the Top 24 perfs. I mean, they should know better right? But it didn’t take long, and I realized what it’s all about enough for me to even spot two potential idol winners. Of course that’ll change when they’re 12 or 10. I didn’t notice David Cook until the Billie Jean rendition, and Kris Allen in his version of Ain’t No Sunshine. These songs were performed 9 weeks before the finale, and that’s when I called them, without any ambivalence. Prognosticator? I don’t know. I’ve only watched the show since Cook’s time.

Voice and talent notwithstanding, because you have to have it of course, AI is trying to be all the more current, which explains the seemingly lax and uninteresting/interesting personas. The voice definitely will not play the biggest selling point here; personality, charm and uniqueness will. Having said that, for the guys: Lee Dewyze, Alex Lambert, then Andrew Garcia; girls: Lily Scott, Siobhan Magnus, then Crystal Bowersox, Katelyn Epperly. Your top 7? Beats me.

High-wire

Just like the Oscars (which has just announced its nominees today), the Grammy’s list is always an attempt to balance artistry and entertainment, though for the Oscars’ sake, it has been towards the latter in recent years. People tend to get bored of course if they don’t know the faces—the music, the films—that are appearing on screen. (The last year reminiscent of a semblance of true artistic independence in Oscar I think in my opinion was the year of The English Patient and Fargo.)

This year’s Grammy featured high-wire pop stars like Beyonce, Lady Gaga, The Black Eyed Peas and Taylor Swift, all performed and were big winners, (except I think for the Peas?). Beyonce excerpted Alanis Morissette’s You Oughta Know and did some head-banging herself. I did not see Gaga perform but the headdress was defining—I would’ve wanted her to win Album of the Year. The choices anyway were uninteresting (so with the other categories, except maybe for New Artist with MGMT and Zac Brown Band appearing) and that headdress flapping around while she receives the award would be a sight. There was a tribute to MJ ala 3D (done by Usher, Celine Dion, Carrie Underwood, Jennifer Hudson and Smokey Robinson), the artists look silly enough as the camera glide through them wearing these 3D glasses. What made my night though was Kings of Leon’s win over the supposed pop giants. The best speech of the night, too. “We’re drunk, but we’re happy drunks.” But who stole the show? Pink. You need to see it to believe the hype.

It has got to come.

If I was gonna do a version of Sam Cooke's classic, I would have to name it A Change HAS GOT to come. Damn, it's been a long time comin'.

A Change Is Gonna Come (Live) - Playing For Change Band from Concord Music Group on Vimeo.

You can check out some info here.

Jack-o

Young Michael on the cover of the recent Newsweek.

Hasn't so much devastated me, at least not having that urge to play his songs and download his videos, or worse horribly mimicking his moves and screeching falsettos. I did though, the screech, only to my colleague’s fervent request, while watching a recent spate of news via hotel cable in Pagadian. MTV has been showing his videos as well. After going back to Pagadian after a weeklong sun’s exposure courtesy of airport runways and national roads being rehabbed, we drank a couple of beers while listening to an old duo singing old songs (it’s free anyway). During the band’s break, Jacko’s old videos played incessantly. The crowd seemed to be mesmerized. I bet some of them don’t even remember where the trademark moves come from. The singing came back just in time to cut off Thriller. So we left.

re-generate

If life was only lush and smooth as any Nat King Cole song. But then it isn't and so I listen, if only to assuage whatever. Oh not really. I'm just digging this album, thanks to Mark, who I know will be a great DOP someday, or is actually on the process of becoming; Mark my words. Anyhoots, listen to The King's Re:Generations to find out why I feel joyous and coked up even though I'm in a sometimes boring workplace. Listening to tracks with masterful re-mastering of Lush Life (which I compare to woozing from a binging escapade; you can even hear the sagitsit of the vinyl on the turntable, fuckin' brilliant) and Day In Day Out. Traces of Brazilian beats overflow in most of the concoctions like The Game of Love and More and More of Your Amour. At the rate it's going, Mr. Nat over here might give Frank and Michael a run, for my abused eardrums.

Grammehhhy.

Saw the delayed telecast of the 81^st Grammys last night. Nothing really mind-blowing like in the previous years. They were good perfs though and we just might expect inter-generational numbers in the years to come. It has become quite a fad these days. This year there was Four Tops’ remaining duo Smokey Robinson and forgot-his-name with Jamie Fox and Ne-Yo, Stevie and the Jonas Bros, and Al Green, Justin and Boyz II Men. And Katy Perry comes out of ginormous banana and strut on stage with bananas on her hips. Was that a new song from U2 in the opening number? That one kicked ass. So did the perfs from Coldplay and Radiohead. I liked most though the perf of the 4 rap gods Jay-Z, Kanye, T.I. and Lil Wayne plus the mom-to-beat M.I.A. Did she give birth immediately after that? T.I. will be serving his 66-day sentence though after the Grammys, for a previous firearm-possession charge. I like that my faves of 2008 won like Adele, Estelle/Kanye’s American Boy and of course Coldplay’s Viva La Vida. Much has been said about this recent outing, or rather, much has been said about it’s being U2-ish. You can’t help it, the tracks are so anthem-ic you can’t help but… get lost… every river that you try to cross…

What I need is a good defense.

Oh my friggin' gulay. This definitely made my day. Or my week, which was unbelievable grueling. The top 100 music videos of all time according to Stylus magazine. This is what you call a no-bullshit list. I couldn't really contend on the spots and who's occupying them because I think this is well-deserved. Why it rocks? Because these are videos that went beyond the boundaries of music videomaking, these videos created haunting, sad, classy, poignant images that I think can never be matched. And because they never make music videos like this anymore.

Nine Inch Nails - Perfect Drug

Because it brings back memories of a high-school me glued to the TV set, being mesmerized by videos such as Nine Inch Nails' The Perfect Drug or blown away by Blur's Song 2. Perfect Drug lands in the list but not in the top 20, though I think it should have been there, easily one of my favorite videos. Other faves that were in the list includes Virtual Insanity by Jamiroquai, Criminal by Fiona Apple which is at # 11, Tonight Tonight by Smashing Pumpkins and Just by Radiohead, which is at # 5. I expected Bjork's All is Full of Love and A-Ha's Take on Me. U.N.K.L.E. and Thom Yorke's Rabbit in your Headlights is at # 1.

Fiona Apple Criminal

Some names would be familiar as some of the music video visionaries landed on film themselves: Michel Gondry, Jonathan Glazer, Chris Cunningham and Anton Corbijn, who directed Joy Division's Ian Curtis' film biopic Control, one of my 2007 best. Gosh, I didn't know it was Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Farris who directed some of Smashing Pumpkins videos. Of course, you know, they went on to make that little movie that could, Little Miss Sunshine.

The Last El Bimbo

The Eraserheads' 2-disc Anthology album is playing on my PC right now. Me and about 3 of my colleagues are having an Eheads nostalgia trip. At least this is what those who cannot come to Taguig and be in one with the thousands of hopeful fans can do.

Whenever I hear an Eheads song, it transports me to that day in high school where I stupidly sold to my classmate the Circus and Cutterpillow cassette albums, which by now are worthy collectors’ items. Not that cassette albums are extinct in this Ipod age, but golly, for a kid who grew up in an Eheads generation, those are just definitive.

Anyway, now that I’m into it, Ang Huling El Bimbo is my ultimate Eheads song. Not because I used to play it on the piano/organ when I was I guess grade 3 or 4, but even listening to it now, I could almost cry at the sheer genius of it, especially when the guitar starts to bellow and you can feel the miserable end of the girl who looks like Paraluman, the playfulness of fate. It’s almost cinematic. Alapaap, Minsan, Superproxy and Huwag mo nang Itanong would be next in line.

I lost track of the last two albums and the last memorable song for me was Julie Tearjerky, which I really really like and which explains my Facebook status.

You know when you’re really an Eheads kid because you don’t just regard them as one of the most influential Pinoy bands, or that their erstwhile chemistry as a band defined the good ole Filipino camaraderie, or that the songs transcend class and age. The magic is just there; in the pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa of Alapaap, in the do-ro-do-do-do-ro-do-do of Torpedo, in hoo-woo-hoo-woo-hoo-hoo-hoo of Magasin.

Honey, honey

Oh gosh why am I beaming when Amanda Seyfried started singing I have a dream/A song to sing, and why can’t I help myself but mouth Super Trooper/Lights are gonna blind me/But I won’t feel blue/Cause somewhere in the crowd there’s you? Super Trooper is actually my favorite Abba song. Father used to own this double cassette Abba collection, and that’s precisely the reason – me growing up listening to Abba tunes – I trooped to the theatre and watched Mamma Mia. Ok, so it’s so girly or rather so grandma-ish. I was actually sandwiched by two old ladies on my left and an old couple on my right. The theater though not really full was littered with old people ranging prolly between 40 to 60.

I first saw Ms. Seyfried in a Justice episode where she was mistaken a college high-class hooker -murderer and her partner Dominic Cooper appeared in the film adaptation of the play The History Boys. And yes Meryl Streep can sing, so does Mr. Brosnan. Maybe she’ll do a superhero movie next year. Who knows what she can do? Might as well do everything and risk life and limb. It was an okay musical, a bit mushy – it’s a celebration of mothers and daughters, what’d you expect – but totally enjoyed it. Abba, the phenomenal Swedish pop sensation, will only be further indelibly marked in the minds of those who grew up with them, who grew up singing to their songs, and will be introduced to the now generation who will hear for the first time some of the songs other than the much-karaoke-maligned Dancing Queen. Contrary to the now generation pop music, Abba songs will likely to remain for the longest time.

Speaking of disposable poppish (I actually just invented this word) tunes, I will officially confess my guilty pleasure recently -- oohhh, this is an SOS/don’t want a second guess or when you look me in the eye/I catch a glimpse of heaven. Yes, those squeaky pre-pubescent boys of the Jonas Brothers. I can’t get out of the friggin LSS. You can now laugh and crucify me. Speaking of more boybands, why are the pre-BSB and NSYNC groups suddenly arose from their boyband graves? New Kids on the Block and Menudo released their reunion singles recently. I’m guessing Marilyn Manson’s ears are bleeding right now.

We sing, we dance, we steal things in Bruges.

Been listening heavily to Jason Mraz’s new album (or at least his new songs via mp3) We Sing, We Dance, We Steal Things which will pique you by the title. If it’s any indication on waywardness, Mraz’s new outing is diverse and multi-dimensional, thus I think even more mature than his previous. The explorations on jazzy, funky tunes and ballads like If It Kills Me are all worth it plus the usual entrancing melancholy of his guitar and his own brand of wordplay that has endeared his following. The lyrics are introspective and meditative and these are evident in songs like Details in the Fabric, Live High, and Love for a Child, which are my favorites. While listening to the first one (Details) I was jolted when I thought I heard James Morrison. Turns out, it was really him (he’s featured). The catchy collaboration with Colbie Callait in Lucky will undoubtedly produce another hit. A revitalized version of I’m Yours (by now excessively played on radio and downloaded) is included in the tracks, which is better than the purely acoustic one. The newer version is way cooler too. To paraphrase Randy Jackson’s comment, “it’s like being in a luau”, you’re in a hammock in a beach sipping buko juice listening to ukeleles and Hawaiian beats (which Jason actually did).

Speaking of nice (jeez, what an overused understated word in this context) getaways, I just saw playwright Martin McDonagh’s debut feature In Bruges with Brendan Gleeson, Colin Farrell and Ralph Fiennes. As its title would hint, it’s set in Bruges (apparently pronounced as Broozh), a well-kept medieval city in Belgium (which I didn’t know existed) constantly alluded to in the film as a dreamland or fairy-tale like. What transpires in the film is otherwise.

After we learn enough that Ken (Gleeson) and Ray (Farrell) are two assassins sent to Bruges to wait for their next assignment from their boss Harry (Fiennes) and just as we begin to wallow in the tranquility of the place, bullets are shot close-range and blood is spilled in gorrific fashion. By the time Fiennes appears in the third act, we sense that things are beginning to get nasty. In a fit of a lifetime, Fiennes smashes the phone to smithereens. Wife enters from sala, sees the scene, points to the phone: “It’s a fucking inanimate object!” Harry, in killing mode: “You’re a fucking inanimate object!” Just classic.

Gleeson by the way is Hagrid in Harry Potter. Fiennes, of course is Voldemort. Farrell’s sexual interest Chloe is Clemence Poesy who did a cameo as Fleur Delacouer in Goblet of Fire. When I mistook Ciaran Hinds as Alan Rickman, I thought it suddenly became Harry Potter in Bruges.

Bruges, despite the reputation we’re made to believe, becomes the playground where actions and decisions are weighed and consequences are faced, some to greater bloodier extent. We are offered glimpses into these introspections but the whole moral pie is as ambiguous as the fog that hovered over the city as the last scenes closed in. There’s some slight allusion to purgatory (the two con men visit an art gallery and ogle at a Boschian painting, Judgment Day). Like The Lookout in 2007 (also a debut from writer Scott Frank), In Bruges is an ode to the good ole genre of crime thriller with a twist of black comedy, always great way to welcome 2008 in film.

The Davids

In a matter of minutes, the next AI will be crowned. There is no single doubt that the show’s influence has seeped into pop culture so easily that we now call this generation the Idol generation. What just unfolded is season 7, the first time that I actually watched the show. So I don’t really have an inkling as to the progression of the previous seasons which already spawned Grammy-award winning artists Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood.

But, besides them, who has actually gone to the level of musical superstardom that Idol promises. It is important to look at the facets of Idol and I believe that this season, culminating with the 2 Davids, provides the perfect two-pronged analysis of this pop culture phenomenon.

One is consistency which can also be translated to predictability and stringent adherence to Idol norms – song choice, arrangement, even the icky pitch – and of course extreme likability which basically prompts the people to twiddle with their fingers to text or phone in. The other one is artistry, a certain level of craftsmanship and sincerity to the music that renders originality and flexibility, which roughly, could mean that it poses a level of unpredictability that excites another parcel of the voting populace. Taking into account the winners of previous seasons, the former still prevails.

Archuleta has an annoyingly good voice and has chosen smart songs. Clearly, he’s in it for the win. Cook, on the other hand, is the most sincere, most creative, and daring enough to shake the ground of predictability.

But whatever right? Staying in the scene is what matters. And Defying the Convention is always given a premium. Go Cookey! ‘Nuff said.

Jigsaw falling into place

Weed is to crackpots, In Rainbows is to me.

Regurgitate, infinitesimal.

Despite all my rage, I'm still just a rat in a cage.

- Bullet with Butterfly Wings, Smashing Pumpkins

Emo.

Stepping out of the cramped conference room after a long afternoon meeting, I glanced at the clock above the wall and its long hand was just in time to flick into the 30-minute mark. I wasn’t tired, no. My eyes were listless and I seem to be wandering in a state of dormancy and paranoia instantaneously. Anxious. I wanted to rest my head and drift off to slumber, put on that overplayed playlist of the day. 3 Doors Down, Yellowcard, Dashboard Confessional and some good ole Gin Blossoms. Swear to God, just felt tears welled up my eyes, but they were closed and my arms providing the cushion to prevent those lachrymal by-products from streaking down like snippets of slight rain on an empty wall. Gawd, I’m so fucking emo right now, I can’t even figure why the hell am I. The recurring fantasy of falling off a precipice or the Petronas Towers is so vivid right now.

Mrs. Jones, the infidel biatch.

The last time I heard someone say, "you infidel bitch!" or read about it was in a Harold Robbins novel which has the word 'pirates' in it or something. That was way back when pubescent curiosity had the better of me. I'll spare you of the x-rated details though, and just say that it is something really unpleasant. But anyone who has read a Robbin's novel should know. Anyway, I ain't telling you any Robbins novel. Instead, lemme tell you about Mrs. Jones. Mrs. Jones is an infidel bitch with the daintiness of a 40s or 50s star, that an illicit affair with her appeals so much to a crooner as Michael Buble. So this is currently my stuck in the head song. The kind that, unconsciously, you find yourself humming to before you even take note of it.

The track is included in his latest album, Call Me Irresponsible, which I find more diverse than the second one. There's a duet with Boyz II Men which resembles like that of a 50s or 60s blues song (Comin' Home Baby), think Steppin' to the Bad Side kind of groove, and a choral ensemble in a couple of songs. There's also the pop-catchy Everything, and Home-like ballad Lost, plus takes on Tony Bennet (The Best is yet to Come) and Henry Mancini (It Had Better be Tonight) classics.

So let me go back to Mrs. Jones, where he sings: Me and Mrs. Jones, we got a thing going on. We both know that it's wrong, but it's much too strong to let it go now... We meet ev'ry day at the same cafe. Six-thirty I know she'll be there. Holding hands, making all kinds of plans, while the jukebox plays our favorite song... We gotta be extra careful, that we don't build our hopes too high. 'Cause she's got her own obligations and so do I... I haven't heard the versions from Hall and Oates, The Dramatics and Billy Paul. But Buble's version makes cheating fun and run of the mill.

snippets on a rainy day

Woke up with a head-cracking headache this morning. Colds and fever got the better of me last night. Drugged myself with Neozep, lagundi capsules and vitamin C and slobbered my chest and back with Vicks. Decided my situation will get worse if I stay in bed. The cheerleader contestant outnumbered the other two with the most number of Greek gods named in the final rounds of GKNB. Took a half-bath after. My temples throbbed as if to say that I'm such a stupid smartass. Went to work. Rain drummed the roofs the moment I sat down in my chair. It was friggin hot when I got down the jeep. I am hearing like Al Gore right now lecturing me on climate change.

Worked on the paper I should've finished the other day. Forget to fax something to Manila. 5 minutes. Put the headphones on. There's nothing like Todd Rundgren's It Wouldn't Have Made Any Difference or James Morrisson's You Give Me Something with the faint drip-drip-drip of raindrops. Feel like my headache's gone now. Last gulp of tea.

Todd Rundgren | It Wouldn't Have Made Any Difference
James Morrisson | You Give Me Something
Lee Ryan | When I Think Of You
Tori Amos | Sleeping with Butterflies
Damien Rice | Cannonball
Dashboard Confessional | Nightswimming
Chris Rice | When Did You Fall
Paolo Nutini | Last Request
Dishwalla | Every Little Thing
Jamie Cullum | All at Sea
Coldplay | A Rush of Blood to the Head
NeYo | Sexy Love
Mike Doughty | Looking at the World from the Bottom of a Well
Robin Thicke | Lost Without U
Anna Nalick | Breathe

Triangles

currently listening --

Habang may tatsulok
At sila ang nasa tuktok
'Di matatapos ang gulo.

The passage above is from the new angsty cut from Bamboo's latest album, which features covers from different rock legends like Pearl Jam. Tatsulok is from an underground band whose name escapes me now.

update: The band's name is Buklod,

music's greatest night

You can't just tell them to shut up and sing, especially if they've got themselves five Grammys. The girls from Dixie Chicks bagged the major awars -- Record of the Year, Album of the Year and Song of the Year. The sweep was a sweet redemption for the Chicks who experienced a backlash even from their country music roots fueling from Anti-Bush statements. Personally, I don't think singers should be punished for making political statements. After all, they're artists and music is their expression. (See related article.) Now I've got to go find a copy of that docu.

Click here for the main story.

And Al Gore! Al Gore gives the Best Rock Album to Red Hot Chili Peppers for Stadium Arcadium.

Christina Aguilera again shows why Britney is nothing but pfft. Although there was something wrong with the pitch at one point, the fact that everybody stood after she finished belting out was proof she nailed it.

Three of my fave artists got together in one perf -- John Legend, John Mayer and Corrine Bailey Rae.

Carrie Underwood looks startlingly like Reese Witherspoon. I can't believe that bombshell was the one who sang Jesus, Take The Wheel.

This year's theme was obviously cross-generational with performances predominantly a collaboration of both old and new. It's such a sore to watch though the show was made a promotional stunt by those whose movies are coming soon. It ruins the 'sanctity' of what's suppose to be purely a celebration of music's greatest night.

Click here for the full list of winners.

photo courtesy of nytimes.com

yuletide playlist

This Christmas sucks but at least the songs keep me sane. Here's my playlist. Thanks to the ever dependable Limewire.

Band Aid | Do They It's Christmas?
Jackson 5 | Santa Claus is Coming to Town
Bing Crosby | White Christmas
Mariah Carey | All I Want For Christmas is You
Bobby Helms | Jingle Bell Rock
Nat King Cole | The Christmas Song
Brenda Lee | Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree
Il Divo | Adeste Fideles (O Come All Ye Faithful)
Kelly Clarkson | My Grownup Christmas List
Jamie Cullum | Let it Snow
Macy Gray | Santa Baby