You Know What Really Pisses Me Off?
You know what really pisses me off? People who think that signs like this don’t apply to them. There’s nothing worse than getting stuck in line behind the douche-bag who has that coveted I Don’t Have To Follow The Rules pass.
Take today, for instance. I had a half-day at work (I’m a clerk in a public library, but I prefer the terms “Civil Servant” or “Sexy Librarian,” depending on the audience), and on my way home I decided to stop by my local Meijer Supermarket. There were only a few things I needed: shampoo, deodorant (this heat!), a gift for my nephew, who is one year old today - one or two other things, if they happened to catch my eye (nothing did).
Being that today is the Friday before Memorial Day, I wasn’t surprised at the number of vehicles in the parking lot when I arrived. Even so, I couldn’t suppress a disgruntled sigh at the woman who side-swiped me with her shopping cart on my way in, because she was more concerned with the racks of discounted mums than where she was going. Yet, I trudged on, quickly locating the items I intended to purchase and making my way toward the registers. Much to my delight I nearly instantly spotted an express lane that was completely vacant of customers.
I couldn’t believe it. I have the worst luck in grocery stores, or anyplace that involves standing in line (I once got thrown up on, waiting in line for my turn on the Tilt-A-Whirl at the county fair), so you can imagine I was quite pleased with the way things were turning out. Then, lo-and-behold, out of nowhere, some pudgy, bottle-tan bitch with one of those mini-carts overloaded with the spoils of her shopping spree WENT OUT OF HER WAY to wedge her cart in front of me and scoot up on in the line.
Which I was prepared to forgive. I learned long ago that people are pushy and selfish and the best thing to do about it is nothing, so unless I’m overtly offended, I happy to keep my mouth shut while someone makes an ass of themselves (hopefully while I share surreptitious, “Doesn’t that person look stupid?” glances with another on-looker).
It didn’t occur to me until it was too late that I should have snapped a quick Instagram of this bitch’s cart. I’m all about fudging the numbers a little bit, if it helps, but I mean, you could eye-ball this lady’s shit and see it was more than 12 items. I’m like, what are you thinking? Moreover, who do you think you’re fooling? Well, the check-out girl, apparently, who’s all going about her business like it’s no big deal, while I’m standing there with my three items and stolen spot in line, tapping my Cole Haan penny loafers on the linoleum like somebody’s impatient governess.
I was perturbed, to say the least. I’m not an impatient person, I don’t think: I just don’t like things to take longer than necessary, which is why, in public places, I go to great lengths to avoid children, the elderly, and people in non-motorized wheelchairs. I become doubly irate when the person holding me up is only holding me up because they couldn’t fathom (sacre bleu!) waiting on me.
I’m sorry, that shit just really pisses me off.
NOSTALGIA: The 1916 December Vogue Cover Illustrated by Helen Dryden
And I want that coat.
Happy New Year, from two of my favorite people.
1500 Words On Adele
As summer draws to a close and megastores across the country are ditching their back-to-school displays with more harvest time-appropriate costumes, candy and monster masks, the pop music aficionado is still quite likely to tune their dial to their local Top 40 station and hear the familiar stomps and claps of Adele’s now-seminal “Rolling In The Deep,” that infectious, roaring, fiery first single off the British soul singer’s divine sophomore album, “21,” or, lately, the bare bones, stripped-down follow-up single, “Someone Like You.” In a summer that by all accounts might have gone to Lady Gaga (whose “Born This Way,” the loud-as-you-can-get-it, synth-filled homage to dance, freedom, and 1980’s arena rock didn’t do nearly as well) or Beyonce (who released her 4th album this summer), Adele, with her relatively subdued, country-tinged collection of heartfelt fury and woe, managed to emerge as the pop force to be reckoned with in 2011.
Since its release at the tail end of 2010, “Rolling in the Deep” has become the cross-over hit of the year. It spent a staggering 36 weeks at the top of the Billboard pop charts and breached the top twenty in at least four other markets, from rock to dance to digital downloads. It has been covered by every undiscovered talent on Youtube and by artists from John Legend to Mike Posner to Linkin Park. The album itself, thirty weeks out, still occupies the #2 spot on the Billboard 200, and “Someone Like You” sits comfortably in the same spot on the Hot 100 singles chart.
So it’s been quite the year for Adele, whose debut album “19” fared admirably a few years ago but ultimately lacked a single with as much bellow and majesty as “Rolling In The Deep.” Despite a highly-viewed appearance on Saturday Night Live and a Grammy for Best New Artist that year, it failed to turn her into a bonafide pop star the way “21” has. Her U.S. tour this past spring sold out in practically every location and she showed up cracking-wise on a dozen television shows, even performing an entire set (nearly the whole album) for the David Letterman audience last April. Last month she racked up a slew of nominations at the MTV Video Music Awards and was nominated for the U.K.’s prestigious Mercury Prize. She’s a practical shoe-in for all sorts of Grammy love in the coming months, and industry watchdogs predict the singer’s money-making trend to continue into the holiday season, when sales of her album are expected to peak yet again, and come the end of the year the full-of-frame, red-headed incarnation of Dusty Springfield stands to be the artist to watch in 2012.
But the music business was different when Dusty took Memphis, and so were the times. This millennium is all about speed and instant gratification, about how quick can you make it, and popular music – indeed, popular culture – moves at a similar pace. Consumers want their music the second they hear it – or at least that’s what the industry seems to think – and thanks to the Internet that is now possible. But the Internet is a double-edge sword for the record industry, one that allows them immediate, intimate access to their customer base while at the same time limiting their ability to actually turn a profit. This is not news; the debate over music piracy has been waging since Shawn Fanning gave us Napster in ’98, and the music industry has long been bemoaning the decline in record sales as a result. One way in which record executives have sought to recoup some of those losses, apparently, is by making more music, and turning musical acts into brands like never before. Nowadays the music business has become something like a factory line, where quantity is favored over quality and artists release an album a year and appear on half a dozen tracks for other artists. They’re doing commercials for Pro Active and hocking jewelry on HSN. They’re selling shoes, cosmetics, clothes, their image, their “brand” – everything but records. They’re everywhere, appearing in movies on TV, and they have to be, or they risk becoming obsolete. But for the most part the artists who succumb to this sort of fast-as-you-can philosophy make music that’s pretty disposable. They are artists like Rihanna (who, between 2005 and 2010 released five albums) and Katy Perry (two albums in as many years), whose celebrity capitalizes largely on their sex appeal and their over-produced, this is what music sounds like right now, this very second showmanship. Going forward at this speed, with styles and tastes and “what’s hot” changing practically every time Billboard posts a new chart, it’s hard for musicians to “stay current.” How many pop stars have we seen come and go in the last ten years, most without leaving much by way of memorable music? Nowadays the idea of what is a pop song is more literal than ever: something with a nice melody (in some cases no melody at all) and a beat you can dance to, three and a half minutes, tops. Those seem to be the only holding criteria, and the fact that Rihanna, with her mediocre voice and island-sex kitten persona, has been able to remain so fixed in the public eye this long is a direct result of the sheer prolific nature of her work and her ability – or probably Jay Z’s ability – to snatch up musical trends quicker than a fashion student snatching cashmere at a sample sale. Rihanna’s latest ablum, “Loud,” sounds vastly different from her 2005 debut “Music Of The Sun,” and that is because pop music sounds vastly different. Rihanna’s success is dependent upon her ability not to run ahead of her time but right along side it, and the easy, okay-that’ll-do nature of her music makes that possible.
But that’s not Adele. Adele’s catalogue comes from within and is a timeless, genre-busting expression of herself. “21” is essentially the chronicle of her last relationship, apparently rapturous but ill-fated. Her lyrics seek (and mostly succeed) to make her personal experience universal and are born of her own self-revelations. Her vocals are immense, awe-inspiring, tinged with her blues, and it is Adele’s remarkable, robust, distinctive voice that has been the source of her incredible success and popularity (although it’s strange that that should bear mentioning, these days, it does), a voice that positions her in a long line of artists whose voices have distinguished them. Comparisons have been drawn to Dusty Springfield, Etta James, Amy Winehouse, and Bonnie Raitt. Comparisons could also be drawn to Mary J. Blige or Aretha Franklin – even Billie Holiday – for Adele has the type of raw-throated, ripped open voice that sounds as if her very soul is drenched in her own sorrow. On “21” she sings harrowingly of her heartbreak and loss, often accompanied by little more than a smoothing rolling piano. There are few frills on “21,” certainly none of the swirling synths and throbbing back beats of most of today’s dance-obsessed musical offerings, recalling a time when “music” meant a group of musicians gathered together to play their instruments, a time when singers showed up and sang live and weren’t afraid to sound a little bit gritty.
But it is also her voice that might undo her, for singing like that night after night isn’t easy. Already the singer has had to cancel appearances and postpone entire tours due to laryngitis and other ailments, and when she sang “Someone Like You” at the VMA’s there was something markedly different about her performance. Though she sounded alive and stunning as ever there was something missing from her voice, some large fullness that seemed diminished and strained. A mere perusal of recent live performances on Youtube hint at a similar vocal decline.
Could the stress and exhaustion of touring and promoting be already taking its toll? On her blog when she cancelled a few dates a few months ago Adele told her fans that her doctor cautioned her take time off or else “cause permanent damage to my voice.” But in this day and age time off could mean sabotaging a career all together. In this fast-wheeling business you’ve got to stay relevant if you want to stick around. Everyday there’s a new kid on the block with a good look and a better producer waiting to replace you, and while the sheer force of Adele’s talent sets her apart from almost anything you’re likely to hear on the radio, history has shown that one need not necessarily be talented to be a pop star.
It presents a bit of a paradox for the singer, whose voice is her calling card. In less capable hands her sad songs might be schmaltzy or sentimental, and if Adele’s voice is not in top form her appeal is almost certainly lost. She should rest and let her voice heal – that’s her money maker – but how long can she stay away before someone comes along to supplant her? Her talent begs for recognition and listenership, and she is one of the few acts around who seem genuinely deserving of their fame. She deserves a long lasting career, but her very style may prove to be one that demands a slow, organic cultivation. Whether or not the wild, devouring beast known as show biz will allow Adele that time remains to be seen.
Rants, Raves & General Exposition on Film, Music, Literature and Life.
