I can't imagine how hard it must have been for "Weird Al" Yankovic to get where he is today. Making it as a musician is hard enough, and maintaining a musical career for several decades is even harder. Now try doing that with a career composed entirely of novelty songs, with a focus on parodies of other artist's work. No wonder so many people in the 1980s dismissed Weird Al as a passing fad! And yet it is now 2014, and Weird Al has just released one of his best albums to date: Mandatory Fun.
Okay, so the album isn't perfect. Some songs weren't as good as I was hoping, such as "Inactive," an unoriginal parody of Imagine Dragon's "Radioactive." Others turned out much better, though: "Foil," an aluminum foil-themed parody of Lorde's "Royals", and "Mission Statement," a corporate jargon-filled original in the style of Crosby Stills & Nash, both surpassed my expectations. I can say that there weren't any songs on the album that I outright disliked. My least favourite was probably "Sports Song," an overly formal fight song, but even it's worth listening to now and then.
The best song on the album is probably the Robin Thicke parody, "Word Crimes," which is about how people misuse the English language. Interestingly, "Word Crimes" seems to be one of Weird Al's more controversial songs; some people have actually complained that it's too condescending towards those with poor grammar. Yes, "Word Crimes" is mean. Extremely mean. But it's so blatant, tactless, and over-the-top in its rudeness that I am honestly surprised that so many people are taking it so seriously. Anyone who knows anything about Weird Al could tell you that he's not a mean-spirited man, and there is simply no way that he was being sincere when he wrote or sang those insults. Is he trying to satirize the smugness of prescriptive grammar as well? Maybe, though I think the most likely theory is that he didn't think anyone would take this song any more seriously than, say, "All About the Pentiums," which is just as mean-spirited, only towards people who aren't computer-savy. The simple fact of the matter is that if the "Word Crimes" narrator didn't come across as an antisocial, self-righteous jerk who gets riled up over nothing, then the song would lose half its comic value. However, as the song stands now, it is easily one of Al's funniest parodies.
Of the originals, my personal favourite is probably "First World Problems," a Pixies-style song about the the trials and tribulations of an unfortunate soul who must suffer through life with a pixel out in his laptop and a house so big he can't get Wifi in the kitchen. These style parodies are one of Al's specialties; most of his original songs mimic the musical style of a particular band without directly copying any one song. I have neither the training nor experience to comment on exactly how authentic the reproductions are, but I can certainly say that I like the results. Turns out that the King of Parody is a darn fine composer, too! And the lyrics are classic Al. Sure, the entire song is based around an internet meme, but Al comes up with some clever variants on the joke.
Like most of Weird Al's previous albums, this one has another polka medley of contemporary hits. This one is called "NOW That's What I Call Polka!", and the medley includes (among other songs) Miley Cyrus' "Wrecking Ball," Psy's "Gangnam Style," and Macklemore and Ryan Lewis' "Thrift Shop." Al's polka medleys are particularly interesting because they are the exact opposite of what he is usually known for; instead of changing the lyrics to other people's songs, he keeps the lyrics but changes the music. If you've never heard a "Weird Al" Yankovic polka medley, your should track one down. These medleys are always fan-favorites, and for good reason.
Aside from the aforementioned songs, this album also contains: an impressive home repair-themed parody of Iggy Azalea's "Fancy" called "Handy"; a Southern Culture on the Skids-inspired song about one man's vague connections to the rich and famous called "Lame Claim to Fame"; a Foo Fighter style parody called "My Own Eyes"; an epic nine-minute track, "Jackson Park Express," about a complex and bizarre conversation carried out entirely in body language; and, of course, the song that featured on Al's first Mandatory Fun video: "Tacky," a hilarious parody of Pharrell Williams's "Happy."
I was a bit reluctant to review this album. Most of my studies have been in literature and film, so I really have no more qualifications to review music than anyone else with an iPod does. But Weird Al has a special place in my heart. I'll admit that I intentionally sought out and bought all of the songs that Al parodies on this album and listened to them all several times to prepare myself for this release, and I know that I'm not the only Al fan who can say that. Sound silly? Maybe, but I didn't regret it, and I know that I'm not the only Al fan who can say that, either.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Shakespeare in the Park
Yesterday, my father and I saw a Company of Fools' excellent production of William Shakespeare's As You Like It. It was a lot of fun, and very funny. The environment was very relaxed--people sitting around on towels or in lawn chairs, many of them with their children, and some with their pets. This is how I prefer to see Shakespeare handled--for audiences, rather than for students and scholars.
Don't misinterpret me--I'm not saying that schools should stop teaching Shakespeare. He's the greatest writer in the history of the English language, and young people should study him. But few fiction writers, if any, have ever written anything for the sole purpose of being studied in schools. That's why I think that live productions of Shakespeare are so important today--they help remind people that, although he's difficult, he's also wonderfully entertaining. His plays can be funny or tragic. His characters are impossibly eloquent, but they're also some of the most believable and human ever written. However good and however convenient Shakespeare's word may be on the page, we should remember that his plays were meant to be spoken and performed, and that's still the best way to really appreciate the Bard's genius.
It's a shame that so many people think of his work (or any great author's work, for that matter) as little more than particularly difficult homework assignments.
Don't misinterpret me--I'm not saying that schools should stop teaching Shakespeare. He's the greatest writer in the history of the English language, and young people should study him. But few fiction writers, if any, have ever written anything for the sole purpose of being studied in schools. That's why I think that live productions of Shakespeare are so important today--they help remind people that, although he's difficult, he's also wonderfully entertaining. His plays can be funny or tragic. His characters are impossibly eloquent, but they're also some of the most believable and human ever written. However good and however convenient Shakespeare's word may be on the page, we should remember that his plays were meant to be spoken and performed, and that's still the best way to really appreciate the Bard's genius.
It's a shame that so many people think of his work (or any great author's work, for that matter) as little more than particularly difficult homework assignments.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Thoughts on Abbott and Costello
Sometimes, I look back on myself, and don't know whether to marvel how much I've changed or at how little. For example, let's look at my greatest passion: comedy. When I was a child, I loved Saturday-morning cartoons. When I became a teenager, I preferred more "mature" humor, like Family Guy. But when my chronological age become more adult, my sense of humor became less so; in the last few years, I've been drawn more to classic black-and-white Hollywood comedies--movies made when the Hays Office held gangster movies to a standard that would seem constrictive to a children's book. Don't get me wrong: I do not support censorship, never did, and never will. But every generation has its own style and its own sense of humor, and it just so happens that I laugh more at things that were funny in the 1920s to the 1940 than things that are funny now.
For my first blog entry, I'm going to focus on one of the most iconic comedy teams in the history of the American cinema: that of mean-spirited straight man Bud Abbott, and his lovable oaf of a sidekick, Lou Costello. I'll admit that, until about a year ago, I thought of Abbott and Costello as second-tier film comedians--good, but below the likes of Charlie Chaplin or the Marx Brothers. But I've been watching their movies with my family a lot in the last year or so, and old Bud and Lou have definitely grown on me.
To understand Abbott and Costello's movies, I think that it's important to know that they've been performing a lot of their routines on stage and radio before they started working in film. Most comedies draw their jokes from the plot, characters, or situation; even in a completely insane movie like Airplane! (1980), the jokes come from the plot. For Abbott and Costello to really play to their strengths, though, they had to take standalone routines and force them into a story, even if they needed a sledgehammer to do it. The next time you watch Buck Privates (1941), watch how subtly Abbott introduces the "You're 40, She's 10" routine into the conversation.
Ironically, that's a big part of why I've come to admire the pair so much. Yes, Abbott and Costello often relied on recycled routines that were shoehorned into some (let's be honest here) otherwise unremarkable movies. On the other hand, Abbott was quite possibly the best straight man in the history of Hollywood cinema, and Costello is one of the best verbal comedians. You may have heard the joke, and you may see the punchline coming, but that isn't going to save you. I suppose I still believe that Bud Abbott's and Lou Costello's movies are still only second-tier comedies. But I've also come to realize that the movies wouldn't even achieve that if they didn't star first-class comedians.
For my first blog entry, I'm going to focus on one of the most iconic comedy teams in the history of the American cinema: that of mean-spirited straight man Bud Abbott, and his lovable oaf of a sidekick, Lou Costello. I'll admit that, until about a year ago, I thought of Abbott and Costello as second-tier film comedians--good, but below the likes of Charlie Chaplin or the Marx Brothers. But I've been watching their movies with my family a lot in the last year or so, and old Bud and Lou have definitely grown on me.
To understand Abbott and Costello's movies, I think that it's important to know that they've been performing a lot of their routines on stage and radio before they started working in film. Most comedies draw their jokes from the plot, characters, or situation; even in a completely insane movie like Airplane! (1980), the jokes come from the plot. For Abbott and Costello to really play to their strengths, though, they had to take standalone routines and force them into a story, even if they needed a sledgehammer to do it. The next time you watch Buck Privates (1941), watch how subtly Abbott introduces the "You're 40, She's 10" routine into the conversation.
Ironically, that's a big part of why I've come to admire the pair so much. Yes, Abbott and Costello often relied on recycled routines that were shoehorned into some (let's be honest here) otherwise unremarkable movies. On the other hand, Abbott was quite possibly the best straight man in the history of Hollywood cinema, and Costello is one of the best verbal comedians. You may have heard the joke, and you may see the punchline coming, but that isn't going to save you. I suppose I still believe that Bud Abbott's and Lou Costello's movies are still only second-tier comedies. But I've also come to realize that the movies wouldn't even achieve that if they didn't star first-class comedians.
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