As part of the brainwashing music education of my 6-year-old, I created a CD of slow songs for her to fall asleep to. The results have been astounding.
She immediately took to the CD, and has been playing it nightly for about six weeks. Unfortunately, it has had a negative effect on her sleep patterns; she tends to stay up later, listening to the music. I taught her how to use the skip button so she can hear all the songs (she tends to fall asleep after about 6-8 songs).
She hasn’t asked for the lyrics, but I sneak by her room after the lights are out, and I hear her singing Chris Brown’s “Waiting for Caroline” word for word. She has asked to see the videos on YouTube for all the songs on the CD.
Many people beam with pride when their children perform in dance recitals or read their first book. I, too, have done this, but to hear my daughter enjoying the same music I have worshipped is the ultimate gift. I have not forced it on her other than just giving her the CD. The rest has been all her.
Her favorite song on the CD? “When She Loved Me” by Sarah McLachlan (from “Toy Story 2″). “It makes me cry,” she says. I must admit tearing up when I first heard this song, too.
My headline for this was originally going to be, “When Did the Grammys Become Irrelevant?” But then I realized that I used that about 20 years ago in a student newspaper.
So the Grammy nominations came out last week. I totally missed it, and when I saw a news item on it, I reminded myself to write a snarky blog post about it. Didn’t even check to see who the nominees were until I started writing this. And once again, Grammy didn’t disappoint me with its disappointing picks.
At least they’ve relegated rap to its own category, but Lil’ Wayne still managed to ooze out and collect himself in the cesspool that is Album of the Year. That God-awful “I Kissed a Girl” song is somehow being considered a Best Female Pop Vocal Performance.
As for marginally listenable music, it’s all too predictable: Coldplay, Radiohead, John Mayer, Sheryl Crow, ohmygod did James Taylor get nominated for two awards? Is he still recording? I’m sure that if Bonnie Raitt or Santana had released outtakes from a drunken recording session with Alicia Keys, they would have gotten a nomination.
All this is to say the Grammys are a joke. They are irrelevant. According to the L.A. Times, “Though the Grammys have moderately improved in recent years, they”re still a reflection of sales + record label marketing campaigns.” That’s putting it nicely. Where are She & Him? Sigur Ros? Vampire Weekend? At least Death Cab for Cutie got a couple of nods.
I learned from the Mental Floss blog that today is the 17th anniversary of the death of Freddie Mercury, Queen’s lead singer. Queen now limps on with a new lead singer, another example of a band that can’t go on without its heart, soul and voice.
If you haven’t had a chance lately, check out their greatest hits. All three of them. Just look at the titles. He wrote many of the group’s signature songs, including “Bohemian Rhapsody,” “Killer Queen” and “Somebody To Love.” And his voice - his range spanned almost four octaves careened between a growl and an operatic tenor.
So many of their hits have become rock icons, some even caricatures of themselves (”We Will Rock You,” “We Are the Champions,” “Another One Bites the Dust”). One was hijacked by a bad white rapper; it took me several years before I could listen to “Under Pressure” without hearing Vanilla Ice’s inane rapping.
In observance of his passing, I’d like for you to listen to “Bohemian Rhapsody” and don’t think of “Wayne’s World.” In fact, try not to think of the 1,782 times you’ve heard it before. Listen to the harmonies, the intricate, sometimes elaborate production, the Jekyll-and-Hyde movements, and mostly, Freddie Mercury’s voice. And think about this:
The song was mostly in Freddie’s mind, with parts and harmonies scribbled on telephone books and bits of paper. According to some band members, Mercury just worked out the song in his head and directed the band through the song.
Members of the group sang their vocal parts continually for 10 to 12 hours a day, resulting in 180 separate overdubs. The operatic parts took over 70 hours to complete.
Since the studios at that time only used 24-track tape, the group had to overdub themselves many times and bounce these down to successive submixes. The tapes passed over the recording heads so many times that the oxide layer was beginning to wear off, causing the normally opaque tapes to become transparent.
