I Am The World

So, my obsession with the "We Are the World" remake is finally waning. While I spent a good 24 hours attempting to distinguish who's who on the track after purchasing it on iTunes (my first charitable donation of the year) - and before I watched the star-studded video - a few thoughts popped into my head:

1. Justin Bieber shouldn't have opened the song. I'm sure Lionel Ritchie & Co thought it was good idea to immediately hook in the 15-year-old girls with this tease, but it just wasn't the proper note on which to start such an epic number. It's like asking Abigail Breslin to read the opening to War and Peace.

2. Upon her return to the recording studio after several years, I could sense Barbra Streisand's frustration over her unmet expectations: "You expect me to sing less than 20 words? I could belch out the lyrics to 'Hello Dolly,' and it would be better produced."

3. Enrique Iglesias? Still can't sing.

4. The filter placed on Janet Jackson's vocal made her come off as some Xanax-dazed ghost. It was like the audio equivalent of Cybil Shepherd's soft lighting in any given scene on Moonlighting.

5. Pink could have sung the entire thing for all I care. The woman has never sounded better.

6. Note to Jamie Foxx: Congrats on the Oscar and all, but Ray was nearly 5 years ago. Did you not get the memo?

7. Wyclef Jean: Fail. Twice.

8. Kanye West seemed like easy listening after tolerating that hip-hop portion conducted by Mr. I-Sold-Out-the-Black-Eyed-Peas will.i.am.

9. Notably absent vocals (or perhaps my ears have failed me): Faith Evans, Harry Connick Jr., Jason Mraz, et al. And Tina Turner, where you at?

10. It seems to me that Celine Dion was singing an entirely different song. Either that, or she totally dominated and made that song her bitch.

11. One country star showcased out of the whole bunch? Really? Carrie Underwood's handlers must be piiiiiiissed.

12. Miley Cyrus actually didn't suck. And on that note, notice how none of the Jonas Brothers were featured.

Believe or not, I actually dug the new song. RedOne did an admirable job composing the new rendition, and it provided a heavy dose of childhood flashbacks for me. I remember my mom constantly playing the original "We Are the World" on a vinyl record (kids, Wikipedia that term) when I was in kindergarten. Back then the music had put a spell on me. Listening to all of those voices, a choir of celebs, seemed like magic, as if the world really was singing. Every time it played I imagined the world - the actual planet Earth - shining brighter, becoming a happier place, improving. I would take in the melodies, bob my head to the subtle rhythm and then proceed to focus on racing my Hot Wheels across the kitchen floor. Now, in 2010, it's a small miracle if those feelings last until the next traffic light while I'm racing my Ford down Westwood Boulevard.

If you're still jonesing to make a donation, go to world25.org.

And in case you missed it:

The Saturday Evening Ghost

I remember when Natalie and Tootie had a double wedding. I remember when Blanche was accused of stabbing a lover to death during a murder-mystery weekend. I remember Harry Weston's unconditional love for Dreyfus. I remember Sandra always trying to pull Mary into some neighborhood scheme.

I remember Saturday nights in a way no one born after 1990 can remember. From the mid-80s to the early 90s, I, along with millions of others, actually stayed home on Saturday nights and fell in love with the aforementioned characters. The Facts of Life. The Golden Girls. Amen. 227. Empty Nest. The short-lived Nurses (anyone?). Even Mad About You got its start on this comedy block.

Then, naturally, came the revolving door of 10pm dramas. First there was Hunter, then Sisters, then The Pretender (a Mom favorite). And of course, Profiler (poor Jamie Luner jumped off Melrose to land on another sinking ship). I never stayed up to watch a full episode of either of these shows. My normal routine would consist of catching the theme song to Hunter or the opening steambath conversations on Sisters and then heading off to bed (Saturday Night Live didn't land on my schedule until I was 12 or 13).



Later on, I'd stay up when Winnetka Road premiered, an easily forgotten Aaron Spelling sudser about the dramas in a Midwestern burb...co-starring Ed Begley Jr.. Needless to say, snooze.

Why did so many of us stay home on the busiest night of the weekend? I don't think it was an age thing, although my social calendar was rarely full between the ages of 8 and 14. Did people actually go out without the comforting reassurances of a DVR? Sure, there were VCRs, but ratings back then amounted to actual, watch-it-now audiences. If so many people stayed home to hear Rose Nylund tell another St. Olaf story, who was out at the bars, the nightclubs, the restaurants, the multiplexes?

What happened since then? Lots of things actually, probably enough to fill an entire thesis paper on The Evolution of Television Programming - more than I could fit here in this little post. The Saturday night television landscape, as we all know, is a ghost town now. It's where networks regurgitate last week's episodes, air broadcast premieres of movies no one cares about, and send struggling reality shows to die. Is there nothing that can be developed to appeal to a Saturday night crowd that stays home during primetime hours? Are we a couch potato nation so distracted by cable and the Internet (and everything else) that launching an original scripted series on Saturday night would be considered a ginormous risk, a near death sentence? The odds are heavily against any new show that dares to be slotted here.

I feel sorry for the Saturday night timeslots. They're endangered, neglected, and they need our support. I truly believe we've all become conditioned to think certain nights of TV require certain kinds of programming. And that's what it is really. Programming. Shows aren't programmed; we are. It's as if we've become programmed to believe that Thursday nights are meant for "quality" dramas. Wednesdays are meant for comedies. Tuesdays belong to a mediocre mix. Mondays are for reality, forcing us to look at our own lives and be thankful they're not as pathetic as every narcissist who competes for a rose, gets into a bar brawl or has sex in a hot tub. And Sundays are for comfort-food viewing, shows that help us ease back into the much dreaded work week. As for Fridays? That's another night gradually going the Saturday night route...Where the sitcoms at? And c'mon, do you know anyone who still watches The Ghost Whisperer or Numb3rs? And yes, I just numerically wrote out the name of that show.

But maybe we're not programmed at all. With viewers gaining more control over how and when they watch their favorite shows, networks execs might as well slot their programs with a blindfold for all we care. If it's good, we're going to watch. On our iPods. On Hulu. On DVD...We're ultimately the ones in control. Right?

H.P.M.

Tokyo Nobody

When you think of Tokyo, images of neon signs, bicycling commuters and crowded streets may come to mind, bringing up an urge to rent Lost in Translation. I haven't visited Japan's capital in over 5 years, but I do remember that it's roughly the size of 4 Manhattans squished together - with opposite-side driving. Pretty intense.

Tokyo Nobody is a book exhibiting the work of Japanese photographer Masataka Nakano. All of his photos are taken in and around Tokyo, the key point being that not one person can be seen in any of them. It's definitely an interesting sight to see some major areas of the world's largest metropolis in such an unusual and eerie state. There's one shot of a carless highway running through a downtown sector that would look great above my living room couch. Just saying.

Random Thought of the Week #13

I'm kinda jonesing for a mini Felicity marathon. I don't know if it's the reruns of old WB shows that play on TNT at the gym every morning, but I've developed a longing to revisit that whispered dialogue, that acoustic soundtrack and one of my all-time favorite television ensembles.

Today is a Good Day

The man to the left, illustrated so colorfully on his latest piece of work, which comes out today, is one of my favorite musicians of all-time. I've waited a long time for this album to come out, his first collection of artist collaborations in nearly seven years (2006's This Binary Universe didn't really count as it was more of an experiment in ambient orchestrations). BT (a.k.a. Brian Transeau) is one of maybe four artists whose albums I'll buy regardless of reviews - on an actual CD.

In addition to this smile-inducing release, today is also the day Oscar nominations are announced. It's the gunshot that kicks off a race meticulously observed by anyone and everyone in this town.

And if that wasn't enough, tonight marks the final season premiere of Lost, a show that will go down in history as one of the best and most influential dramas to grace the small screen.


I may need to be pinched.

H.P.M.