You complain, you get results

After complaining about the lack of snow in NYC, what happens? Snow (see small flecks in above photo, and trust me!).

It's just been that kind of day.

At lunch today, I complained because my burger was overcooked. I send it back, what happens? I get a new burger, raw! And so it goes...

You complain, you get results, but you may not be impressed by what you get. Nevertheless, as mama always said, "The squeaky wheel gets the grease."

New York on Sunday: Warm, Global Warming, Marc Jacobs

Where's the snow? Here it is Feb. 10, in New York and no snow. It's 42 degrees. It's been 42 degrees all winter, except for 2 days in January. Where's the snow? Is it the global warming? If so, then it's not my fault. I'm anti-global warming. Have been for a long time. I am ready for it to end.

In the mid 90s there was a show on public television about global warming. They interviewed somebody from the oil companies who said that global warming was not necessarily a bad thing. "People actually prefer warmer weather. They can go to the beach, and relax in the sun."

If you listen to the weather "reporters," you'd think the oil company flack was right. They rave about warm weather, talk about how a day in February that is 50 degrees is "a nice day!" Nice? What's so nice about melting polar ice caps, rising seas, the total destruction of life on Planet Earth? Nothing nice about it at all, except that that the tourists will be standing in line at one of the six Marc Jacobs stores on or near Bleecker Street.

The other day I walked by just such a line (how they can actually line up for his crap is beyond me). I mentioned, slightly louder than under my breath that Marc Jacobs was sucking the life out of New York City, which he is. You should have seen the looks on their faces! They were shocked, and momentarily worried that perhaps they were standing in the wrong line. The look passed so quickly. But, for a moment, it gave me hope.

sign of the times?

Remember when people used to buy cars just to get around, and didn't care about keeping them in "like new" condition to maintain their "resale value?" This van's been floating around the West Village lately. Maybe it's a sign of thing to come: a downturn in the consumer mentality, an uptun in liberal values, a light at the end of the tunnel.

Or maybe it's just a prop for a movie shoot. . .

What do you think?

Review: Tchaikovsky's Pathétique at NY Philharmonic Feb. 5, 2008

The poetry of music was in full swing at Avery Fisher Hall Tuesday as the New York Philharmonic added another dimension to Fat Super Super Tuesday with a program capped by Tchaikovsky's final symphony: the mysterious, beautiful and mournful Symphony No. 6 in B minor, Op. 74, a.k.a. "Pathétique." And it was -- in a word -- "magnifique!"

The program's first half was admirable, with strong performances of Rossini's brisk "Overture to La Scala di seta (The Silken Ladder)" and Mendelssohn's "Symphony No. 4 in A major, Op. 90, Italian." But it was the second half that compelled attendance, and the brilliant performance of Pathétique made it a truly incredible experience.

The Pathétique is one of the saddest, most heart wrenching pieces of music ever written. In Tchaikovsky's original notes for the piece, he sketched a concept that the symphony would begin with "The ultimate essence of the thirst for activity," leading into "Second movement, love; third, disappointments; fourth ends dying. . .Finale DEATH -- result of collapse." Nice place to start. In sum, this ain't no 1812 Overture. No canons, no fireworks, no wine and cheese crowd pleaser here. If anything, like the poetry of Charles Bukowski, this piece seeks to uncover the beauty of horror, not excluding slow, regret-filled, painful death. Under the baton of the distinguished Lorin Maazel, the Pathétique surged and swelled like a human heart, with its rich theme line still reverberating in my mind.

A word about the NY Phil: Imagine having your whole being moved by the sound of a single clarinet 40 yards away. Now imagine being moved by the Pathétique's instrumentation: Three flutes, two oboes, two clarinets and bass clarinet, two bassoons, four horns, four trumpets, three trombones, tuba, timpani, cymbals, bass drum, tam-tam (gong) and strings. 

This is what the program describes as the instrumentation. It doesn't mention that "strings" means 30 (yes, 30) violins, 10 violas, 10 cellos and 8 basses. The dynamics were intense, even with the much-maligned acoustics of Avery Fisher Hall. 

The third movement, in particular, Allegro molto vivace, grew to a fevered pitch only equalled in intensity by the average male mid-life crisis. Oddly, half the audience was packing up and ready to hit the road after this movement, assuming, like so many commercials imply, that life is going to end on an upbeat note.

Wrong. As Tchaikovsky so brilliantly distills, all the build up of youth and middle age, is destined to lead to long, slow, sad silver years. The real challenge of being human is to see the beauty of these years, with the all the lamenting, pain and sorrow. Tchaikovsky manages this wonderfully, with a finale of despair, ongoing sighs, and a final fading away replete with a final few slow beats of a heart.

When it was over, it was difficult to move. Even Maazel seemed as if he wished the audience didn't have to applaud that we could all just stay there in this place of beauty without end, until the last vibration of sound died as we did... with great tenderness. Such wasn't the case. But, for as long as it lasted, it was a fine place to be.

One final note: Shortly after writing Pathétique, Tchaikovsky conducted its world premiere and died nine days later at the age of 53. His parting gift is one the world should treasure forever.

Tonight: Josh Humphrey at Cornelia St. Cafe

Tonight, Feb. 1, 2008:

A rare chance to hear a truly incredible poet. Josh Humphrey is one of those unique birds who writes poems that stick in your craw long after you hear them. He often writes in the voice of a woman, capturing female emotions with a strange and weirdly accurate tone. Recently, he opened up for Ellen Bass's reading with a poem inhabiting his grandmother's voice as she worked to keep his father awake after an accident with a discus. One of my favorites is "A Poem About Al Capone's Wife." He doesn't read live very often, so catch this unique opportunity. 

Plus, participate in the marvelous open reading, hosted by Kathi Georges, who promises to share new poetry tonight as well.

What: Son of a Pony Reading Series

Where: Cornelia St. Cafe (29 Cornelia St. between W. 4th St. & Bleecker, NYC)

When: Friday, Feb. 1, 2008, 6-8 p.m. (sign up early for the open reading, doors open 5:45 p.m.)

Cost: $7 (includes free house wine or beer)

Review of Jerry Springer: The Opera at Carnegie Hall, January 29, 2008

From start to finish, Jerry Springer: The Opera, at Carnegie Hall is a drop-dead, no-doubt-about-it, oh-my-aching-sides hysterically funny piece of theater. Featuring Harvey Keitel as Jerry, and a 30-member cast plus on-stage orchestra, the show uses a no-holds-barred approach to replicate the oft-lambasted TV show in operatic fashion--which is funny enough!--and dives head-first into a second philosophically challenging post-mortem act featuring Jerry being forced by the devil to do his show . . . in Hell! With Satan (a role created by the incredible David Bedella), Jesus and God as guests! Get out of here!

White trash costumes never decked out such highly-regarded operatic talent so fittingly. They perfectly matched the in-your-face lyrics ripped from the flat screens of America. Sample:

A weird thing happened last night 

when I went to take a leak

I would up pissing on a man

with a fabulous physique

I mean--how can you not love a show that offers a pole-dancing soprano, a contralto "chick-with-a-dick" and tap-dancing Ku Klux Klan members? Over-the-top has a new definition. But I wonder--how does cast member Lawrence Clayton--or any cast member, for that matter--explain to his family that he finally acheived his life-long dream of performing at Carnegie Hall to a sold-out audience--only by singing about the sexual arousal he feels when he shits on himself? And--oh, yeah--singing, while wearing only shoes, socks, and a diaper.

At the opening performance, two nearby patrons left during the second act, disappointed that none of the characters in the 2-hour production had any depth. "They're all caricatures!" one lamented.  Not true. Writer Richard Thomas was able to find an inner beauty for each of his outcast characters, such as infantilist Baby Jane, played marvelously by Laura Shoop. In the midst of all this madness, suddenly, one would stop and spill a truly awe-inspiring beautiful aria about the universal call to find true love.

Still, with all the history of beauty at Carnegie Hall, it is a bit disconcerting to watch an operatic cat fight between a fat suburban housefrau and a coke whore, with the simple lyrics, "Bitch, bitch, you bitch, fuck you bitch." I mean--how low has our society sunk, that in a hall of culture, Jerry Springer: The Opera would prove to be such a success?  But that's just the surface look at the show. It's what lies beneath that makes Jerry Springer: The Opera so fully-realized, endearing and--after the laughter wears off--haunting. It's the tracing through all of these outcasts, the common human link in the need for affection.

The production began at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in 2002 and has since run for nearly 700 performances in London. It was originally slated to move to Broadway in 2005, but didn't get enough backers. It toured in England for 22 weeks, facing pickets that forced the cancellation of runs at 9 theatres. Interestingly, the show has run in several U.S. locations successfully, including San Francisco, Minneapolis, Chicago and Memphis. Still, several religious organizations have been protesting the Carnegie Hall event since it was announced, calling it "blashphemous" and picketing opening night. But let's face it: this is New York. Forty-seven years ago, Lenny Bruce performed Carnegie Hall, and no doubt stirred up similar controversy--but the show went on, to rave reviews. 

To my mind, Jerry Springer: The Opera strikes a similar brilliant chord. And nearly 24 hours later, my stomach still aches from laughing so hard.

Rumor has it that Springer will finally get that longed-for Broadway run. Keep your fingers crossed, and if you need someone to see it with, I'll gladly go again.

Lenny Bruce: Dead and Well by Peter Carlfates now on YouTube

Here's a quick little 3-minute clip from the January 10, 2008 Cornelia Street Cafe performance of Lenny Bruce: Dead and Well, by Peter Carlaftes. In this segment, Lenny/Peter discusses what really went on during Flight 11 on 9/11. Carlaftes is working on bigger things for this show, so please be sure to leave a comment on YouTube to help the cause.