It was announced this week that Green Day’s musical American Idiot moves to Broadway—whoo hoo! Opening night is April 20th at the St. James Theatre. I guarantee you (even though I know nothing about the Broadway scene) that you will not see a musical with more energy or intensity than this show. (I saw it in Berkeley. It’s a barnburner.)
I have a theory about Billie Joe Armstrong. It is well known that as a child (starting at age five) he accompanied his father, a part-time jazz musician, to hospitals and nursing homes to sing to the old folks. I’m guessing he sang show tunes as a youngster as I hear a Lerner and Lowe (cool composers) influence in Green Day’s music—but NOT Rogers and Hammerstein (schmaltzy tunesmiths). For instance, listen to “On the Street Where You Live” from My Fair Lady and then listen to “Last Night on Earth” from 21st Century Breakdown. See what I mean?
I watched the televised show of the Kennedy Center Honors a few weeks ago. I laughed when John Stewart described Bruce Springsteen as the “love child of Bob Dylan and James Brown.” Apt pairing. I would peg Billie Joe‘s parentage as John Doe of X meets Frederick Lowe.
I really enjoyed the presentation for Grace Bumbry, an opera singer. I had never heard of her before but I love to hear stories of people (especially women) overcoming obstacles as they pursue their dreams with gusto and aplomb. Grace faced racial barriers in the opera world. But her amazing voice pummeled all opposition. I’m not an opera lover, but I listened to some of Grace’s recordings, like Lieder and Arias. Holy cow—now there’s a set of pipes!
Speaking of watching TV, I did NOT watch American Idol Tuesday night, the premiere of Season 9. Yippee! OK, I did watch a little on Wednesday night. But it wasn’t intentional. I was folding laundry and Ye Ol’ Hubby Man clicked on the TV. As soon as I saw Simon, I was hooked—once again. I have to say General Larry’s performance of “Pants on the Ground” was hysterical. I would buy that song if it were on iTunes.
Another song I heard recently: “Kitchen” by Mary J. Blige—from her new CD Stronger With Each Tear. I’m not an R&B fan. I think Mary J.’s best song is “One,” her duet with Bono. Even though she outsings him, the quality of his songwriting is better than her other stuff.
Here’s part of the lyrics to “Kitchen”:
I Don’t know it all, but i tell what i know
Never let girl cook in ya kitchen
All up in ya fridge, and next will the stove
Never let girl cook in ya kitchen
When pot gets hot everything drops
Eyes on your man, hands on ya pot
If She runs in to help, tell her stay in your spot
Never let girl cook in ya kitchen.
I can’t hear the word “kitchen” in a song without thinking of “Raised on Robbery,” by Joni Mitchell from the album Court and Spark (1974), a rock-no-roll classic.
Here’s part of the lyrics:
I’m a pretty good cook
I’m sitting on my groceries
Come up to my kitchen
I’ll show you my best recipe
I try and I try but I can’t save a cent
I’m up after midnight cooking
Trying to make my rent
I’m rough but I’m pleasin’
I was raised on robbery.
I like Joni’s “kitchen” metaphor (and song) better. The line about sitting on her groceries—too funny.
And on that memory from the 70s, TTFN.
(Ta Ta For Now.)
