Not going to lie— good ol’ B. Spears has done some pretty cah-razy stunts:
Shaved her head.
Married friends for fun in Vegas.
Married Kevin Federline (and expected America to take it seriously).
Attempted to act.
HAD CHILDREN.
But all of Britney’s faults aside, there is something about her music that hits the right chord in me. Almost… Makes me… Well… About to get up close and personal here… Confession: I like Britney Spears' music. Don’t laugh! Or look down your hipster nose at me—we all have guilty pleasures, right? And it’s not that I’m a die-hard, Britney-or-death fan. I just dig (some of) her music. So, when “Toxic” (my…uh, kind of my fav Britney song- like I said at the start of this post. I’m not going to lie) was released, it wouldn’t have been odd to find me guiltily turning up the radio when alone in the car. The girl may be cray-cray and in need of some serious, SERIOUS help, but her music isn't all bad.
When I first stumbled upon the band Those Dancing Days (TDS), I liked the gist of what I heard. But when I stumbled upon their “Toxic” cover, I was hooked. Linnea Jönsson’s deep, slightly raspy voice perfectly hit every one of Britney’s notes. While the lyrics and melody were essentially the same, the difference in timbre is evident. Britney’s rendition is full of high pitches and poppy sound effects. TDS had a much smoother approach to the song. Because Jönsson’s timbre isn’t as tonal and full of that syrupy flavor Britney dumps at the end of every word, the song seems more personal. It almost has the illusion that Jönsson is not performing for a large crowd, but more that the song is a message from her to one person. With Britney’s approach, as with all her actions, you get the sense that she’s doing it for a show. It lacks the personal intimacy that personally I crave in my music.
Playing at a slower tempo and inducing a softer intensity, the song loses its immediate pop-tastic flavoring. I believe that there is some type of strings in the core melody of Britney’s rendition? And there is definitely a synth with superficial sounds and beats being incorporated. As great as that plays out for Britney, I find myself attracted to more acoustic, natural-type sounds. TDS’s version of the song seems more rugged and sloppy—it is evident that the sounds are all human and all flawed. Which. I. Love.
Another thing that is different about the two songs is the maintenance of structure. It’s odd that the same song could seemingly be so different in its deliverance. Yet, Britney seems to keep the song at the same level, and doesn’t build up into the climax until a sudden burst into the collision. However, TDS take a more subtle approach, and slowly builds the entire song. That way, when they approach the same part of the song that Britney hits her collision, they also deliver the collision, but it makes more sense because the listener is anticipating the moment.
I much prefer TDS’ version of the song. Nothing personal against Britney. Er… wait. Didn’t I say I wasn’t going to lie? Sheesh.
Watch both videos here to compare for yourself (and try not to be too hard on B. Spears).
In Jonathan Flaum’s allegorical tale “Finding Your Howl,” Flaum tells the story of wolves bred in captivity who are turned back into the wild. Being in the safe, nurturing world where “food was delivered rather than hunted,” when the wolves are released into the wild, they have forgotten their howl. All but one, Mumon, begin to live in fear and accept the lifestyle of a wolf without a howl. Mumon leaves the pack and descends deep into the wilderness to find himself, and coming across a deer, a crow, and a hunting farmer, Mumon finally regains his howl. In the end, he is reunited with the pack as its alpha wolf.
Flaum draws attention to natural instinct. In the story, although Mumon is bread in captivity, he knows that there is something embarrassing about being given food rather than hunting it. He feels it in his bones. As he speaks later to the deer, she asks who taught him to hunt, and he says no one: he just knows. His instincts override the nurturing that has been done to make him fear the world and become useless in his awe. Similarly, we as humans are nurtured by our families and brought into the world with the safety of our parents’ protection. Once we leave home, or are “released into the wild,” it is easy to become lazy with our goals. The natural instinct we feel to grow and change may be outweighed by safer, more familiar settings. Yet when one has become completely at peace in a world of outside of their comfort zone, the reality of freedom sets in and reversal becomes impossible and highly undesirable.
Listen as I talk about The Morning Benders' song, "Excuses,"then watch the recording session:
In Mitch Ditkoff's "14 Ways to Get Breakthrough Ideas," Ditkoff explains the importance of innovation in today’s world. Everyone wants it, yet it is hard to come by because people simply don’t manifest it in the correct ways. In order to nurture an innovation or outstanding idea, Ditkoff offers fourteen valuable tips. I found this article very moving and helpful. However, most of the tips seemed to be derived from common sense. It reminded me of this Craig Damrauer piece:
The tips were brilliant, true, but most of them are easy to come by on your own as long as you employ your own common sense and take care of your mind.
#8: Take a break
This one I thought was a bit ridiculous. Take a break? Um, hai- that’s an obvious one! But sometimes things can be so obvious that we don’t fully comprehend them. Ditkoff is right in suggesting we let our minds breath because burning out is no fun. And it really does seem like a simple concept, taking a break. Yet there is the dangerous line between “taking a break” and “giving up.” The difficulty is to control yourself, even when you’re on a break. Ditkoff’s suggestion is definitely a good one for not overworking yourself in pursuit of an innovation.
#10: Hang out with diverse groups of people
I really liked this tip. It’s definitely a motivator for creating good ideas. When you surround yourself with different people, you’re forced to open your own perspective and see the world through their eyes. I love traveling, and learning about different cultures. One of my biggest annoyances is when someone refuses to understand another cultural perspective different from their own. When I hear, “Why do they doooo that? That’s dumb” = %@*#^$! I get very upset. I can't help it! My tolerance meter is immediately shattered and I can't help but explode in anger. This probably stems from growing up with my South Korean mother in a dominantly white school district. I guess I've never fully recovered from the annoying teasing done to me in elementary school.
Learning about other cultures broadens our own horizons. By doing this, an outsider could notice something about another culture that the local could not see, or vice versa. Different people joining together and learning creates a layered, well-formed innovation.
#14: Suspend Logic
This one had me torn. I believe that Ditkoff makes a brilliant point- not everything can be explained. He goes on to say that we should suspend logic and let our creativity run rampant. However, this is far easier said than done. While suspending logic is great advice, it almost seems full of empty promises. I wish that Ditkoff was more active in the suggestions he gives because all is fine and dandy to think about the tips; what is important is learning how to employ them.
Prompt #5: Think of a current challenge of yours. What would a fantasy solution to this challenge look like? What clues does this fantasy solution give you?
One of my current challenges is my goal to live overseas. I’ve literally been fantasizing about living in London for half my life (granted, I’m only twenty- but ten years is a long time to a twenty year old). I have this recurring dream about it. The means are usually different, but the result is always the same. Human Rights Watch (a non-profit organization) scouted and found me in America, and offers me a wonderful job in London. I move there and write films on the side, working on my independent film company with a few artistic friends while creating marketing material for HRW campaigns. Sometimes the company changes to another non-profit organization, but like I said the ending result is always the same: I’m making films in London with friends.
Basically, this fantasy clues me into the fact that I want to live in London while doing work that I consider worthy. I want to work for a cause, and feel like my life isn’t just another problem added to the World’s long list of issues needed to be resolved. The fact is that I need to work hard if I want to get anywhere even remotely close to where I want to be.
The only problem I have with Ditkoff’s prompts is how they relate to action. Yes, I’ve pinpointed the problem- and I’ve known that it’ll take a monstrosity of work to achieve. Yet, I am exactly in the same spot as before with getting there. Perhaps if Ditkoff could offer more decisive action other than empty, esoteric words, I would like this article (and him) a bit more.
I’m obsessed with originality. I hate the completely overdone system of having one break-through, jaw-dropping, ground breaking, oh-my-gosh-how-did-we-ever-exist-without-this innovation that gets followed by thirty knock-offs (ie: The Office. Watch the show or not, the writers and cast of that show are too funny to be ripped off in any other generic form). I love watching a movie with an ending that I didn’t guess thirty seconds into the trailer. Or that has a storyline that’s even slightly original and hasn’t been dragged through the Cliché Pond. I live for the narrative. Theater, literature, film, dance, music; give it a good story and I’m hooked.
People who have inspired me are:
Wes Anderson
All praise be to Wes Anderson. Anderson’s movies are like a friggin’ piece of cinnamon pumpkin pie topped with Cool Whip- ALWAYS as good as it sounds. What I love about Anderson’s quirky movies (other than the awesome recurring casting of Owens brothers and Anjelica Huston) is his brilliant use of tension and release. His movies take complicated human issues and mix them with the awkward (but unfortunately necessary) moments in life.
In The Royal Tenenbaums (2001), an estranged father attempts to reconnect with his family. Generically, that sound kind of like a Lifetime movie, cuing the moment when you turn the channel. But Anderson’s quirky details and engrossing back-story clinches the deal. For example, Ritchie Tenenbaum (Luke Wilson) is in love with his adopted sister, Margot Tenenbaum (Gweneth Paltrow). The entire film, Anderson uses their non-traditional, almost borderline incestuous relationship to build tension in the viewer. And after learning about Margot’s past relationships, Ritchie attempts suicide. Anderson uses the juxtaposition of Ritchie chopping his hair off to reflect his suicide attempt. In the climax of the scene, Ritchie is shown with blood streaming down his forearms, mingling with chunks of hair that is everywhere (one of the few scenes that’s shown in cooler bluer tones of light rather than the warm hues used in the rest of the movie). When Ritchie is found, it’s revealed that he did not succeed in killing himself and he is admitted to the hospital.
I remember being euphoric the first time I watched- “THANK GOD! They still have a chance!” And immediately, you’re forced to ask yourself all these nit-picky, morally gray questions. All the while you’re building up tension, wondering if Margot will ever find out what Ritchie did for her. Later, Margot is in Ritchie’s tent listening to old records and Ritchie joins her. Fiiiiinally. FINALLY. Finally, they talk. The entire movie focuses in on quite a dysfunctional family who never talks. About anything. And in these scenes near the close of the movie, the viewer is granted an actual moment of clarity between two characters.
This moment = Complete Catharsis.
Anderson’s tight control on his use of tension draws the viewer to become emotionally attached almost instantaneously. And with so much invested into a set of characters, the moment contrasts with the stilted, emotionally strangled scenes that are found earlier in the film. And just as you have a sense of peace with this entire gratuitous moment as Margot leaves the tent, she pops her head back in and says:
“I think we’re just going to have to secretly be in love and leave it at that, Ritchie.”
Snap. And the relaxed, trusting audience has been brought back into a tense cat-and-mouse situation.
In The Darjeeling Limited (2007), Anderson uses the setting of constant familial companionship to create tension. After the death of their father, three estranged brothers set off on a trip across India to gain peace with each of their selves. Again, Anderson uses the reunited family backdrop. While the specific storyline in itself is unique, the family scenario is so relatable. These three brothers, after a year of no communication, now being shoved together creates this fantastically awkward and tense situation. The tension feels so great because every viewer feels the tension in themselves.
Woody Allen
Woody Allen is funny. And I’m talkin’ before his hair went white, before the 2000s, before Soon-Yi Previn- back when he was funny and Diane Keaton was laughing up a storm with him, on and off-screen. The beauty of Allen is his use of text. For example, in Annie Hall (1977), Allen’s character Alvy keeps up a stream of conversation that, for the most part, never ceases throughout the film. He starts the film, and immediately you get a sense that his humor is smart while slightly self-depricating. His humor continues this way through the film, and all the while he is talkingtalkingtalking, Diane Keaton’s character is mostly listening and absorbing. So the words that she does contribute have more merit because it’s different the rambling we’ve heard for most of the film. The audience picks up on her softer, gentler words because there are less of them than Allen’s character’s. Because his character says so much, it is easier to slightly tune out to what he is saying and still get the gist of his conversation.
By doing this, it becomes clear that Keaton’s character, Annie, must be doing the same thing. Through Allen’s text, the viewer realizes that while Alvy asserts one statement about himself, the opposite is actually true. Alvy is a New York elitist Jew, through and through. Nowhere is better than New York and no one is as funny as he thinks he is. Through this, the viewer gets to see the more vulnerable aspects of Alvy. Over compensating for his own faults, Alvy judges the world in a harsh and cynical tone. The contrast to his judgment calls is the innocent, high-spirited Annie who only means well. Her dialogue is less frequent in the film, so naturally the audience is forced to listen more closely the rare times when she does speak. The subtext of Allen’s constant conversation for Alvy and Annie’s lack of words creates a relationship that clearly is dependent on Annie. While Alvy has the most say and continues to shape what Annie does, giving her reading suggestions and telling her to go to school, it is ultimately Annie who controls the relationship. Allen creates this subtext through the clingy bits of conversation Alvy hides well in his subtle put-downs of Annie.
I love Allen’s use of text because while it is witty and funny, it also serves a deeper purpose. Taken at face value, Allen’s text is good. I would say it was good enough to carry a viewer through the movie. Yet, when you re-watch the movie and examine the text more closely, you see that Allen has a gift with words because in the textual world of his films, which are always filled with constant chattering, a specific atmospheric mood is created. And Allen does it with such subtlety that a passive viewer would not catch it.
Stanley Kubrick
Stanley Kubrick left America for England, where he created his masterpieces and stayed for the rest of his life. Kubrick inspires me because he had such total control. He moved away from Hollywood because he wanted the control to write, direct, produce- everything. He knew what he wanted his end product to look like and he knew how to do it. Kubrick’s films have unusual content in them (and as we all know from Roger Cooper, “content is kaing and quain, baby”).
While still in Hollywood, Kubrick directed Dr. Strangelove or How I Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964). The movie is set during the Cold War when the nuclear arms race threatened the safety of civilians both in America and Russia. Kubrick’s fantastic direction shows his clear and powerful use of didactically transferring information. The film, while originally planned to be a drama, is later turned into a comedy. Yet, without the cheesy laugh track and with intensely serious plot developments (at one point, a man shoots himself in the bathroom), the comedy is completely unique. The audience is left to interpret every situation as to whether it is humorous or not. And this freedom to choose forces the viewer to realize what his or her own personal sense of humor can achieve. The U.S. Armed Forces have mistakenly launched a nuclear missile on Russia? Funny. The Russians have built a doomsday device that will wipe out life on Earth? Funny. Released in the 1960s when tensions were still high and families were legitimately building bomb shelters for fear of nuclear war, the movie allowed America to laugh at itself. And through this, they (and viewers today) didactically learned how preposterous America can be. A rich country that has the means to do whatever they please is bound to be filled with some idiots.
In the same year, another film, Fail-Safe, was released which had a similar plotline of accidental nuclear war. The only difference was the Fail-Safe was a serious drama rather than a comedy. Dr. Strangelove garnered much more support and Fail-Safe was left to be watched by few. The fact that Americans chose to watch a comedy about their current predicament rather than a serious drama shows the need to escape. Kubrick recognized the necessity of escaping, and in a leap of faith that turned out to be spot on, he changed his film. If Dr. Strangelove had been a drama, it would not have had the same impact because these people knew how they would react to an accidental nuclear war. They were living with it 24/7.
Kubrick’s films are amazing because they have very different content matter. The way this content is executed is explosive and always risqué, for example A Clockwork Orange (1971). Yet though the content is borderline disgusting, Kubrick’s execution always makes it bearable. And through this, we are forced to wonder why we enjoy such horrific images. Didactically, Kubrick forces us to learn more about ourselves through watching his films.
