The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Film of the Week!

"I like to try to do acting, I feel like I can do it to a certain extent... if I'm given the right part."

--Mick Jagger, 25 x 5: The Continuing Adventures of The Rolling Stones, 1989

In last week's film "sermon," I alluded to the fact that the film in question (2001's Enigma) was co-produced by Mick Jagger.  He can even be seen in it for about three seconds.  If I had been paying attention, I might have waited until this week to recommend it, as today is Jagger's 82nd birthday, something I only realized yesterday. 

Obviously, Jagger is best known as the front man for The Rolling Stones, my all-time favourite band.  And it would have been easy, being the fan that I am, to recommend a Stones album or even his third solo album, 1993's Wandering Spirit (Jagger's one solo album that Keith Richards didn't shit on in his memoir).  But I like to be different and, hopefully, unpredictable.  So I thought this would be a better way to go.

While not well-known as an actor, he has appeared in a number of films over the last half century, playing unique characters that, in hindsight, I couldn't picture anyone else playing.  I first saw him act in 1992's Freeejack in which he played a bounty hunter trying to hunt down Emilio Estevez on the streets of New York in the future (or at least it was in 1992--the film is set in 2009).  It's an interesting film, but I wouldn't call it exceptionally good.  But what I noticed is that in spite of that, Jagger's performance still manages to stand out and distinguish itself.

I was delighted to discover that a new Criterion edition of his first film, 1970's Performance, was recently released.  I had never seen it, so I immediately felt compelled to check it out.  It's actually a really good film, but I don't think it would have been as good had he not been in it.  He exudes a certain enigmatic magnetism, not just in Performance, but in everything I've seen him in--it must be the rock star in him.

I was going to make Performance this week's recommendation, but then I thought of a film he did around the same time he co-produced Enigma that stood out to me because I genuinely thought he delivered some great acting and absolutely held his own alongside some major acting heavyweights.  Even before I saw the movie, I was taken with Peter Travers's review in Rolling Stone magazine in which he wrote, "Jagger the actor is someone you want to see again.  Eat your heart out, Madonna."  (Madonna had recently made a movie called The Next Best Thing which was both a critical and commercial failure.  I was just annoyed because she had taken it upon herself to do a cover of "American Pie" for the soundtrack.)

In this movie, Andy Garcia plays writer Byron Tiller.  Unfortunately, Tiller is not very successful in his chosen field.  He's struggling to make ends meet and support his wife Dena (Julianna Margulies) and their child while his last novel has been relegated to the bargain remainder bins.  He meets Luther Fox (Jagger) who runs an escort service catering to lonely, rich women--in fact Luther himself personally caters to the needs of Jennifer Adler (Anjelica Huston). He persuades Byron to come work for him (of course Byron keeps this from his wife) and connects him to Andrea Alcott (Olivia Williams).  Her husband Tobias (the great James Coburn in one of his final roles) is a renowned author on the verge of dying who is struggling to write a final novel.  Andrea convinces Byron to help Tobias write it in an effort to secure his legacy after he dies.  Of course, this is where things get complicated.

The movie debuted originally at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2001 and was released in America in 2002.  Written by Phillip Jayson Lasker and directed by George Hickenlooper, this week I feel compelled to recommend The Man From Elysian Fields.  Happy Birthday, Mick!

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you!

Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

 

 

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Album of the Week!

I'm kind of annoyed.  I had an album picked out for this week, but can't find a decent YouTube link--at least not a geographically accurate one.  In fact, it appears to be the only album of this particular artist that doesn't appear on his YouTube channel.  It's not on Spotify either.  I preusme the fact that there are three distinctly different versions (European, British, and American) probably has something to do with that.  But I've been inextricably drawn to it (the American version) for some reason.  I've listened to it thrice this past week.  Oh well.  Guess I'll just post a bunch of random songs of his on my Facebook page as the day progresses...

In spite of that disappointment--maybe even because of it--I kept coming back to the album I'm now sharing with you.  I haven't actually listened to it from beginning to end in some time, but it's always been an essential part of the soundtrack of my life from the time I was a little kid.  Both my dad and my aunt had it in their record collections.  I currently have Dad's old copy hanging on my bedroom wall.  It's always been one of my favourites, even in my teens and twenties when I really didn't like country music at all.

In spite of the fact that it was recorded at the height of the "outlaw country" movement, it still seems timeless.  Many of the songs seem as relevant in the year 2003 Plus 22 as they did when they were first released in 1978.  But most importantly is the album's opening track, "Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys."  The song, written by Ed and Patsy Bruce, is one of those songs that I can't just hear.  I can't just listen to it.  I can't just sing along.  I genuinely feel it.  This is especially true of the last half of the last verse.  Part of it is the lyric itself.  Part of it is the way it's sung with the delivery of a good punchline.  Regardless, I've always felt that it describes me better than any other lyric I've ever heard.  At the very least, I sometimes feel that it's how others see me.

Featuring songs written by the likes of Kris Kristofferson, Shel Silverstein, and even Stevie Nicks, as well as a few by the artists themselves, this week please enjoy Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson with their appropriately titled album, Waylon & Willie.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

 

 

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents a Bonus Album of the Week (One From the Vault!)

I originally posted what follows on Facebook on 2 July, 2022. After posting my normal weekly album "sermon," I felt I should revisit this one. The music was better than what I had to say about it...

During the time I've been writing these, I've written ad nauseum about my late father's influence on my taste in music, particularly the wide variety--in fact, I'm sure most of you are probably sick of it. But aside from Dad, and reading liner notes, and watching and reading interviews with my favourite artists to find out what they listened to, and watching films that feature songs I like that make me explore more of an artist's catalogue, there is one other person who influenced my taste in music. My Uncle Frantz also had a profound effect on my listening habits. He introduced me to artists like Stevie Ray Vaughan, ZZ Top, and Eric Clapton. I've often said that crazy old coot may even turn me into an Eagles fan yet... actually, I'm pretty sure he already has. He was always tinkering with his stereo trying to get the best sound possible. Anytime he bought a new car, the first thing he did was replace the stereo because he knew that whatever was factory installed was probably substandard. I remember when I was given my first boom box, he connected his CD player (something no one else in my family had at the time) to the single most impressive boom box I think I've ever seen and showed me how to make my own mix tapes to play at home. I may even still have a few of them.

During one visit late in my high school career, he told me about some trip he had made, presumably on behalf of the Humane Society of the United States (his virtually lifelong employer). As I recall, on the plane he was seated next to a representative of Alligator Records, an independent record label based in Chicago that distributes blues music. He seemed genuinely excited to tell me about how the representative gave him all these free CDs. He also seemed equally excited to introduce me to artists like Sonny Boy Williamson, Koko Taylor, Elvin Bishop, Lonnie Mack, Lonnie Brooks, and Saffire the Uppity Blues Women. I'm sure I would have discovered the blues eventually. Dad was a fan and between the Rolling Stones and the Blues Brothers I have no doubt it would have seeped into my musical consciousness at some point. But Uncle Frantz pushed me in that direction and helped me discover it a little faster than I probably would have on my own. I feel bad that I never got to thank him for that in his lifetime, so hopefully this week's album will make up for that.

I was first introduced to said album as it was part of that stash that Uncle Frantz got from the Alligator representative. "The Chicago Sun-Times" described this week's artist as, "the hottest purveyors of bottleneck boogie to come out of Chicago since Hound Dog Taylor." It's still among my favourite blues albums. From 1989, please enjoy Lil' Ed and the Blues Imperials with their second album, "Chicken, Gravy & Biscuits."

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Film of the Week!

I read this article in The New York Times this past week about, for lack of a better term, a "physical media rebellion."  Apparently, a number of people--specifically younger people--have grown frustrated with the streaming services when it comes to selection and availability of certain titles.  As such, they've started seeking out DVDs of certain movies that they can keep and watch any time they want.  Frankly the article warmed the cockles of my heart.  As a lifelong collector of physical media--both music and film/TV, in multiple formats over the years--I've taken some grief from friends and relatives over the last decade or so for it.  I'm kind of thrilled this is happening, especially among younger people.  Reading the article made me feel like less of a walking anachronism.

In the last decade and a half, the convenience of streaming has made it harder to find physical media in stores and rental places have pretty much become extinct.  (Personally, I blame cult leaders like Marie Kondo who keep brainwashing their followers to tidy up their lives and their homes.)  But the truth is not every film is available to stream.  And no streaming service has the rights to everything out there.  Frequently, many titles are only available for a little while.  With a physical copy, you can be guaranteed that the film will be available when you want to watch it.  The quality of both sound and picture is usually better than streaming and there are frequently bonus features--trailers, interviews with the filmmakers, behind the scenes documentary footage--fun stuff that geeks like me enjoy.  As the Times article points out, even if you acquire a "digital" copy of a film or TV show, you don't really own it--you're licensing the right to view it when you want, a privilege that can be rescinded.  And streaming services have also been known to alter certain films, removing "objectionable" content such as nudity and cigarettes.  When you buy a DVD or blu-ray disc, you actually own the item.  Barring a home invasion, no one can take it away from you.

So this week I'm highlighting a film from my personal DVD collection that I think is a supremely underrated spy thriller.  It wasn't a huge hit (at least not in this country) when it was initially released in 2001.  To be fair it only had a limited American release in the spring and summer of 2002.  (I'm quite pleased with myself for seeing it in a theater--twice!)  According to imdb.com, you can rent/buy it on Amazon, but no other streaming service has it, if you're so inclined to watch it.

The film takes place during World War II and is set in Bletchley Park--the heart of British codebreaking operations during the war.  There apparently has been a setback in Britain's attempt to decipher the German Enigma code.  Dougray Scott plays Tom Jericho, a mathematical genius and the most qualified person to get the Allies back on track (kind of like Alan Turing, but straight).  He is returning to Bletchley after suffering a nervous breakdown involving... let's call her a femme fatale named Claire (Saffron Burrows).  There also appears to be a mole within Bletchley and some missing transmissions that Claire appears to have stolen.  Tom teams up with Claire's roommate Hester (Oscar winner Kate Winslet) in an attempt to find out what was in those transmissions as well as find Claire before the authorities do.

The film was directed by Michael Apted and written by the great Tom Stoppard, based on the historical novel by Robert Harris.  It features a wonderful supporting cast of mostly British actors that you've seen quite a bit of in the decades since including Tom Hollander, Jeremy Northam, Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, Matthew Mcfadyen, and Corin Redgrave.  The movie was produced by Lorne Michaels and Mick Jagger.  It's probably not widely known, but Jagger is a bit of a World War II buff.  He actually owns a real German Enigma machine and kindly lent it to be used as a prop in the film.  (He also has a "blink and you'll miss it" cameo as a British officer--this is the reason I was essentially forced to see it a second time in a theater.  Like most things in my life, it's a long story.)  This week, if you can find it, I highly recommend the movie Enigma.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Album of the Week!

Last fall--specifically on 22 October, if one wants to scroll through this blog to find it--I posted an Album of the Week "sermon" that I had written the previous fall and had only posted on Facebook ("One From the Vault!").  In it, I talked about what can only be described as a spiritual connection to music as well as to much-loved relatives no longer on this plane of existence.  When I randomly hear certain pieces of music, I frequently get the feeling that I'm being haunted by the ghost of a dead relative--in a nice way, as if they're just checking in or as a signal of encouragement.  Perhaps they're just letting me know that they are okay.  I don't get that feeling if I play those songs intentionally.  They have to happen randomly, like on the radio.  I have to assume that, in a population of 8,000,000,000 people, I can't be the only person who experiences this.

While having dinner at a pub in Edinburgh, Scotland, in April of 2001, I got the distinct impression that my late grandmother was hanging out.  In December of 2016, I felt like my dad, who had died that spring, was checking out Reggie's Rock Club in Chicago just before the Mr. T Experience show.  And of course, as I documented, there was that incident with Mom in October of 2023.  But recent family events and get togethers, for one reason or another, have caused me to focus on one of these supernatural visits that's had a lasting impression on me... and my taste in music.

Most of my appreciation for and taste in music was acquired from my parents.  They were always playing music at home and in the car.  And a tremendous variety of it too.  Rock, country, folk, classical, opera, jazz, blues, soul--I learned to love it all (even the occasional bit of disco).  But I often don't feel like I give enough credit to my late uncle, Frantz, for his contribution to my music listening habits.

Whenever I would visit Aunt Gayle and Uncle Frantz as a teenager, I could invariably be found sitting in front of this elaborate stereo setup under a set of headphones making my own mix-tapes (see enclosed picture of me playing DJ)--I even still have a few of them.  Uncle Frantz and I had similar taste in music and he was quick to point out new CDs he'd acquired since the last time we'd seen each other.  He introduced me to the likes of ZZ Top, Pink Floyd, Linda Ronstadt, Meat Loaf, and Eric Clapton.  He also broadened my appreciation of blues music with some choice selections from the Chicago-based Alligator Records label.

We agreed on most things, but there was one artist on which we disagreed...

"Man, c'mon, I had a rough night, and I hate the fuckin' Eagles, man!"

--Jeff Bridges as Jeffrey "The Dude" Lebowski, The Big Lebowski, 1998

Uncle Frantz, for reasons I never understood when I was in my teens (or my twenties... or even my early thirties, come to think of it), adored the music of The Eagles.  I never did.  I probably admired them as musicians and songwriters--I do make a distinction between what I like and what I think is good.  But, apart from "Take It Easy," I just didn't like their music for one reason or another.  Whenever one of their songs came on the radio, especially 1973's "Desperado," I would sometimes violently switch to another station.  In hindsight, I can't understand that reaction.  I mean, sure, I didn't like it, but it wasn't as bad as Supertramp or that God-awful Jardiance jingle!

When Uncle Frantz died in 2005, I was asked to put together a disc of some of his favourite music to play when everyone was gathered at the house after the memorial service.  I actually assembled two discs.  I even went so far as to include two Eagles songs--"Desperado" and "Hotel California."  I even put Linda Ronstadt's version of "Desperado" on it.  In spite of the Elvis SNAFU (which is a long story), I'm still quite proud of those mixes.

After that, I was reminded of him every time I heard one of their songs on the radio.  Before too long, I stopped changing the radio station when they would stoop to playing an Eagles song.  And every time this happened, I would find myself muttering under my breath, "That crazy old coot's gonna turn me into an Eagles fan yet!"

In 2009, I had what I've described as my second mid-life crisis, left Bloomington, and headed north to less humid climes.  At Aunt Gayle's suggestion, I moved into the lower level of her house which for years had served as Uncle Frantz's office.  Moving in was a chore and a half.  I had rented a moving truck that was too short.  Technically speaking, I was between jobs with no money coming in and I was hemorrhaging what little money I had in moving expenses.  I was discarding pieces of furniture left and right because of the size of the truck and I was going to have to make another trip to finish the job.  I was stressed out, pissed off, and rapidly becoming broke.

While driving north in a too short moving truck, a song came on the radio that just seemed to fit the moment.  Of course, it had to be The Eagles and their 1975 hit "Take It to the Limit."  With tears streaming down my face, I got the distinct impression that Uncle Frantz was in the truck with me, advising me to do exactly what the song was suggesting and giving me his blessing to move into his old office.

In the years since, I have acquired every studio album they ever recorded, two live albums, and a 2-disc "Best of" compilation.  What do you know?  That crazy old coot DID turn me into an Eagles fan.  I still haven't decided whether or not to forgive him for it.   I just hope and pray that the same thing doesn't happen with John Denver.

This week's album is my favourite of The Eagles, primarily because it features "Take It to the Limit."  But I actually like the rest of it too.  I also think it had the coolest cover art of all their albums.  Originally released in 1975 and their last album to feature bandmember Bernie Leadon, this week, please enjoy One of These Nights.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Fillm of the Week!

In 1993, when I was a sophomore in college, I received one of the greatest Christmas gifts ever given to me.  Earlier in the year, my aunt Gayle and uncle Frantz had driven down to Indianapolis to visit my great aunt Dort.  Her husband, my great uncle Mac, had passed away in late 1992, and she had, as I understand it, asked them to come down and go through some of his personal effects.  Among them were diaries that his sister--my paternal grandmother--had kept during her youth.  She started writing them in 1928 at the age of 11 and continued through 1936 at the age of 20.  She wrote in them every single day during that nine-year span.  The discipline to do that, especially at that age, still astounds me.  Even at 51, I still don't have it.

Rather than immediately tell the rest of the family of their incredible find, Aunt Gayle and Uncle Frantz decided to transcribe them into an easily readable format (not an easy task).  One of them would translate my grandmother's handwriting and the other would type it up.  Occasionally, there were a few things they didn't quite understand--keep in mind, they couldn't just Google something at that time.  Fortunately, one of Grandma's oldest childhood friends, Marietta, was still alive at that point and was able to clarify certain elements.  (If one were to think of Grandma's diaries as a story, Marietta would have also been one of the characters in it.)  Once the transcription was finally complete, they were printed, bound, and presented to us as Christmas presents.

As moved as I was by this gesture, except for 1928, I didn't read them for about six years.  I felt kind of weird about it.  I know I wouldn't want someone reading a diary that I would have kept at that age.  Hell, I'm not even sure I would want to read that myself!  I almost felt like I was invading her privacy.  She was--and still is--one of my favourite people and I had a hard time doing that to her.

In the spring of 2000, I finally figured that enough time had passed since her death that it would be alright for me to read them.  If I thought receiving them as a gift was moving, that's nothing compared to what I felt reading them.  It was a little weird picturing my grandmother as a slightly boy crazy teenager.  I mean, after all, I only knew her as a grandmother.  But the story she told through her diaries was a riveting one.  If nothing else, it was a great document of the city of Goshen, Indiana, during the Great Depression.

I've often said that reading those diaries was like living through The Godfather Part II without the organized crime--I would live my daily life as the manager of the Barnes & Noble music department, and in the evening, after doing whatever I was doing at that age, I would go home and read about what had happened 70 years earlier to a family member from whom I descended.  She talked about her interactions with people I knew--namely Marietta and Uncle Mac--as well as people I had heard about, usually with the same last name as someone who went to school with my father or Aunt Gayle.  I also felt like it was a nice opportunity to get to know my great grandparents a little bit, as they died before I was even born.

Included with the diaries were genealogical charts and family histories and a few letters that Uncle Mac had written to Grandma when they were adults.  One letter, written in 1973, caught my attention.  In it, he made some references to the fact that she was about to become a grandmother for the first time.  I realized that, in a roundabout way, he was referring to me as I was born the following April.  I felt connected to the diaries and the events in them more than I had before.  Even though it was Grandma's story, it eventually led to my own.  If only Francis Ford Coppola had filmed it...

The one discovery I made about myself in all of this is that my love of film was even more hereditary than I thought.  I always assumed that it was something that had been passed on to me from my father.  In reading her diaries, I realized it went back another generation.  In them, she chronicled every movie she saw during that time.  I had to remind myself that when she would have written in them, film was still a relatively new art form.  "Talkies" had only been introduced the year before Grandma started writing these diaries.  No one thought that so many movies of that time would still be loved and watched nearly a century later.  I know Grandma was entranced with what we now call "Old Hollywood"--she always read movie magazines that talked about everyone's favourite stars and the films they were making.  As I understand it, Uncle Mac even went on to teach a film class at Butler University.  Today, I still have many wonderful, large "coffeee table books" about old movies ranging from westerns to musicals that belonged to both of them over the years.  I don't know why it never occurred to me before that that is where my love of the movies comes from.

In the intervening three decades, more diaries have been found--not always in chronological order, but found nonetheless.  My sister Heather has taken it upon herself to transcribe them.  As I understand it, Google has been very helpful with questionable references.  I've been surprised and delighted to go through the whole Godfather II thing multiple times over the last few years and getting caught up in my grandmother's life during the first years of our involvement in World War II.

For my birthday, Heather gave me the recently transcribed diary for 1938.  (According to her entry for 1 January, she did not write one for 1937.)  As always, I was most curious to see what (now) classic films she had seen when they were originally released in theaters.  I particularly enjoyed--even when I was 26--reading her thoughts about movies that I'm proud to say I've actually seen.  She saw this week's film in January, 1938.  For some reason--perhaps because I actually have two copies of it in my film library--I somehow felt closer to her.  She seemed to enjoy it as much as I always did.

In the film, Irene Dunne and Cary Grant play Lucy and Jerry Warriner, a high society New York couple on the verge of divorce.  Each suspects the other of things that never actually happened.  While waiting for their divorce to become final, we get to witness all kinds of relationship mayhem as she takes up with an Oklahoma oilman (the great Ralph Bellamy in an Oscar-nominated performance) and he with a wealthy socialite who is described as having "millions of dollars and no sense" (played by Molly Lamont).  Jerry also gets visitation rights to their dog, Mr. Smith (played by the great Asta of The Thin Man series, who would go on to work with Grant again in Bringing Up Baby the next year).

The film is one of the screwiest screwball comedies of the era--an apparent specialty of Grant's.  It was nominated for five other Academy Awards including Best Picture, Leading Actress (Dunne), Best Screenplay (Viña Delma), and Best Editing (Al Clark).  Leo McCarey won the film's sole award, taking home the Oscar for Best Director.  Based on a play by Arthur Richman, this week, in honour of my grandmother, I'm happy to recommend 1937's The Awful Truth.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

 

 

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Album of the Week!

I saw a news article this past week that kind of saddened me a bit.  In hindsight, I'm kind of surprised that it saddened me at all... and I'm not easily surprised.  In fact, twenty years ago, the story probably wouldn't have fazed me at all.  I'm amazed how much I appreciate certain music now that I didn't then.  It's weird how, as I age, I seem to become more open-minded about certain things--I thought I was supposed to do just the opposite.  (Now if I could just apply this to every aspect of my life!)

I read that last Saturday, Ozzy Osbourne gave his final concert in his hometown of Birmingham, England.  As Alex Marshall of The New York Times reported, "This was not his first announcement of a retirement from touring or live performance, but this time he seems to have meant it."  At 76, Ozzy ("The Prince of Darkness") has had numerous health issues over the last few years and was even recently diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease.

The 10-hour affair at the Villa Park soccer stadium, dubbed "Back to the Beginning," seemed to be a chance for Ozzy to bid farewell to his fans who seemed to come from all over the world to show their appreciation.  Much of the day's festivities featured other artists who had been influenced by his music over the years paying tribute to their hero, including Metallica, Slayer, Anthrax, Gun 'N Roses, and Alice in Chains, among others.  There were even tributes from famous fans like Dolly Parton, Elton John, and Cyndi Lauper.

At 9pm local time, the main attraction/guest of honour rose from below the stage.  Unable to walk, he was seated on a black throne adorned with a bat on its top and a skull on each armrest.  In spite of his medical condition(s), he was still able to whip the crowd into a frenzy, even dousing the front rows with a water gun that was next to his throne.

But that whole spectacle was just a teaser for the real main attraction--around 10pm, Ozzy reunited with his former bandmates Tony Iommi, Geezer Butler, and Bill Ward.  For the first time in 20 years--and, apparently, for the last time--Black Sabbath performed together.  As you can imagine, this created quite a stir in the heavy metal community.

I was never a huge metal fan growing up.  It's only been in the last 15 to 20 years that I've grown to appreciate at least some of it.  Particularly in the last decade, I've grown quite fond of Black Sabbath, although I haven't really acquainted myself with Ozzy's solo work.  Along with Led Zeppelin (who I've loved since high school), the thing that really stood out to me with Sabbath is the obvious influence of the blues in their music, which was not uncommon in bands--especially British bands--that formed in the late 1960s.  Like a lot of artists, I would hear one or two songs on a "classic rock" station or in a movie and I would find myself liking the song enough to buy at least one of their albums.

This week's album, while a bit obvious, is arguably their masterpiece.  Released in 1970, mere months after their eponymous debut, it's still my favourite.  Please enjoy Black Sabbath with Paranoid.  As a side note, I also feel obliged to point out that in the opening track, "War Pigs/Luke's Wall," that they did, in fact, rhyme the word "masses" with... (wait for it)... "masses."  As I also discovered, you can sing it to the tune of "Deck the Halls" during the holidays.  All together now...

"Generals gathered in their masses, fa la la la la, la la la la.

Just like witches at black masses, fa la la la la, la la la la.

Evil minds that plot destruction, fa la la, la la la, la la la.

Sorcerers of death's construction, fa la la la, la la la la."

On that note, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

 

 

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Film of the Week!

Last week, my friend Tara and I went to see a 30th anniversary screening of the movie Clueless starring Alicia Silverstone.  While I'm still trying to wrap my head around the notion that the film is that old, I also began pondering the belief that some writers' works are timeless.  And I'm not talking about the fact that we're still discussing Amy Heckerling's brilliant script 30 years later.  I'm talking about the fact that we're still discussing the original basis for that script more than 200 years after it was written.  Heckerling based her script on Jane Austen's 1816 novel Emma.  Some stories and themes are so universal that they still resonate across generations and even cultures.  It actually astounds me that one could take a story written in 19th century England and adapt and re-set in 1990s Los Angeles.  And it totally worked.

Over time, as copyrights expire and more and more cultural works enter the public domain, more and more "re-imaginings" pop up, usually retelling the original story from the perspective of another character.  In the last few years, we've seen new perspectives on The Great Gatsby (retold by the character Jordan Baker in Nghi Vo's novel The Chosen and the Beautiful) and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (as told by the slave Jim in Percival Everett's novel James).  Even Winnie the Pooh has been completely reimagined as a horror character (the universally panned 2023 film Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey--and no, I'm not making that up).

In most cases, the original is just re-adapted into another movie or television production using the same settings.  This is especially true of Austen.  Not to knock it, but how many adaptations of Pride and Prejudice do we really need out there?

Of course, if I had to hazard a guess, I would say that nobody has been adapted and re-imagined quite like William Shakespeare.  Dig this--the man's been dead for more than 400 years and he had not one but two of his plays on Broadway this past season.  Romeo & Juliet even managed to snag a Tony nomination for Best Revival of a Play.  We have annual festivals throughout the world celebrating his works.  The man is responsible for so many idioms in the English language including "break the ice," "wild goose chase," "in a pickle," "brave new world," "heart of gold," "wear your heart on your sleeve," and "it's Greek to me," just to name a few.  Some years back, I even bought a set of six shot glasses each with a Shakespearean insult on it.  (I'm still waiting for that perfect moment to refer to someone as a Banbury cheese or a cankerblossom.)

Like Austen, Shakespeare is ripe fodder for recontextualizing.  In this week's film, Joe "Mac" McBeth (played by James LeGros) works in a fast-food joint in suburban Pennsylvania in the early 1970s.  His wife Pat (Maura Tierney), who works with him, is much smarter and more ambitious.  She becomes convinced that they could run the place better than their boss, Norm Duncan (the late, great James Rebhorn).  Pat concocts a plan for Mac to rob the place and kill Norm, assuming the police will follow the robbery angle and they can just take over the restaurant.  Unfortunately, Lieutenant McDuff, the vegetarian police detective assigned to the case (the always wonderful Christopher Walken), suspects something more sinister is afoot and continues to investigate the murder, all set against a killer '70s classic rock soundtrack (even if it is a little heavy on Bad Company tunes--R.I.P., Mick Ralphs).

If you know your Bard, you've already guessed that this is a contemporary re-working of Macbeth (and I'm not in a theater, so I can say the title).  While I'm not as obsessed with Shakespeare as I feel I probably should be, I do consider myself a fan and was more than a little impressed by this adaptation and how well it worked even in a contemporary (or, at the very least, 1970s) setting.  Written/adapted and directed by Billy Morrissette, the film made its premiere at the Sundance Film Festival in 2001.  This week, please enjoy Scotland, PA.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace love and rock and roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Album of the Week!

Over the last few years, I've noticed that when I find myself in the mood to listen to a specific artist, I often binge-listen to a whole bunch of albums by said artist.  I may not listen to everything that artist recorded--maybe a handful of albums, depending on the size of the artist's catalogue and what I have in my collection.  This week, I did--with the exception of a few odds and ends--listen to the entire catalogue of this week's artist.  I acquired a boxed set of all nine of his albums released between 1971 and 1985.  I don't know why I hadn't before--it's not like I wasn't already a fan of his work.  In fact, one of his songs, which we'll get to in a bit, is one of my Top 10 favourite songs. (FULL DISCLOSURE: due to a tie in the #6 slot, there are actually 11 songs in my Top 10 list.  Since I recently included a list of my Top 10 favourite albums, I'll include my Top 10 favourite songs at the end of this post.  I realize no one asked for this information, but I'm a compulsive listmaker.  And you can compare and contrast or submit your own lists.)

I've always considered this week's artist to be one of the greatest voices in pop music, especially in R&B/soul music and it's been great reacquainting myself with many songs I knew and acquainting myself with a large number of songs that I didn't.  Even as the overall sound of soul music evolved through the 1970s and the 1980s, his voice seemed to integrate seamlessly into that evolution.  As someone who has always rooted for the older guys, I was always impressed by the impact he had, especially given the fact that he didn't release his first album until he was almost 33 years old--late by entertainment industry standards.

William Harrison "Bill" Withers Jr. was born on 4 July, 1938, in West Virginia.  His parents divorced when he was three and he was raised largely by his mother and her family.  He joined the Navy at 17 and served for nine years.  It was during that time that he developed an interest in singing and songwriting.  When he got out of the Navy, he went to work as a mechanical assembler working for a number of companies including Ford, IBM, and Douglas Aircraft Corporation (later McDonnell Douglas), during which time he also began to write and perform his own songs.

After a 1967 single failed to gain any traction, his big break came in 1971, when he was introduced to legendary musician/producer/arranger Booker T. Jones.  Jones was impressed by what he heard and when he asked Withers if he had enough songs to fill an album, they sat down and made one.  The song "Harlem" was released as the album's first single, however disc jockeys seemed to prefer the B-side, a little ballad called "Ain't No Sunshine," which climbed to #3 on the Billboard Hot 100 and became the start of a whole new career for Withers.

His follow-up album, 1972's Still Bill yielded the R&B classics "Lean On Me" and "Use Me."  Over the next decade and a half, Withers would go on to win three Grammy Awards (along with six other nominations).  I hate to use euphemisms, but due to creative differences, he walked away from the music industry in 1985 after releasing his ninth album, Watching You, Watching Me.  Over the years he would continue to pop up from time to time.  A 2009 documentary, also titled Still Bill, explored his reasons for leaving.  He was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 2005, the West Virginia Music Hall of Fame in 2007, and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2015.  The last I had heard from him was in 2004 when he appeared on Jimmy Buffett's album License to Chill.  Withers contributed two songs to the album, "Simply Complicated," which he co-wrote with Buffett, and "Playin' the Loser Again," which he wrote and sang as a duet.

Bill Withers died from heart complications on 20 March, 2020, at the age of 81.  His was one of those celebrity deaths that actually saddened me, just because I have such fond memories of his music.  I remember waking up on the morning of my 27th birthday with his 1977 hit "Lovely Day" stuck in my head.  I spent that day roaming the streets of London, England, constantly singing the chorus (my sister was gracious enough to sing backup).  When I had heard he died, I remember sitting at the top of my stairs, listening to that song, and crying.  And "Ain't No Sunshine" ranks at #7 on my list of Top 10 favourite songs.

Given the fact that I have been listening to so much of his music over the last week, and that yesterday would have been his 87th birthday, I thought I would commemorate him this week, wondering why I never did before.  To me, there is something almost mystical about that first album that he did with Booker T. Jones, who not only produced and arranged, but also played guitar and keyboards on the album.  Fellow MGs Donald "Duck" Dunn and Al Jackson Jr. played bass and drums respectively.  The great Stephen Stills (as Withers wrote, "THAT Stephen Stills") played guitar and legendary session drummer Jim Keltner also sat in.  Featuring almost hypnotic covers of Fred Neil's "Everybody's Talkin'" and The Beatles' "Let It Be" (#2 on my Top 10) along with ten Withers originals, please enjoy 1971's Just As I Am.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

The Reverend Will the Thrill's Top 10 Favourite Songs:

1.  "You Can't Always Get What You Want" by The Rolling Stones (1969)

2.  "Let It Be" by The Beatles (1970)--preferably the LP version of the song and not the single version usually played on the radio

3.  "Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)" by The First Edition (1967)

4.  "Like To Get To Know You" by Spanky & Our Gang (1968)

5.  "Never Been To Spain" by Three Dog Night (1971)

6.  "Still Crazy After All These Years" by Paul Simon (1975) / "Watching the Wheels" by John Lennon (1980) (TIE)

7.  "Ain't No Sunshine" by Bill Withers (1971)

8.  "A Whiter Shade of Pale" by Procol Harum (1967)

9.  "Clap For the Wolfman" by The Guess Who (1974)

10.  "Rio" by Michael Nesmith (1977)

(Dates are based on the release of the album on which the song was featured.)