Categories
Letter From The Editor Opinion

Time Passages

Time, time, time

See what’s become of me …

While I looked around

For my possibilities

I was so hard to please. — Paul Simon

As I write this, it’s (checks calendar) Tuesday, or as we call it now — day. It’s, what, the seventh week of working from home? Seems like we just started yesterday … and it seems like it’s always been like this: the relaxed roll out of bed, tousling doggy noggins as they greet us, heating water, grinding coffee beans, filling the French press, feeding the dogs, getting the paper, sitting down at my kitchen table “office” in my sweats and T-shirt.

I read the CA (15 minutes on a big day), open my laptop, check news sites, Twitter, Facebook, email. Then I open the “flyer-edit” Slack channel and type “Good morning!” to my fellow Flyer homies.

Except for opening the Slack channel, this is my everyday routine. Every. Day. Highlights of the week include walking the dogs at lunchtime, rolling the trash and recycling bins to the curb on Thursday night, and bringing groceries, dog food, and Amazon packages into the house from the front porch. I also treat myself to one glorious early morning Wednesday trip (masked) to the grocery store, followed by a curbside pickup at the liquor store.

Time flows relentlessly and seamlessly. My wife and I are living quiet, mostly solitary lives, though lately, we’ve allowed ourselves the incredible luxury of a visitor or two. We sit on the deck, well apart, and talk and gossip and catch up. Friends. Family. What a concept. Such a joy. You don’t miss your water, etc., etc.

We may moan and bitch a little, but it’s done with the awareness that we are incredibly fortunate to just be dealing with boredom or isolation, unlike millions of Americans who are coping with unemployment and sickness and even fighting for their lives — or, in the case of medical staffers and other essential employees, maybe working harder than ever.

But for many of us the COVID weeks seem to be speeding by in a haze of routine. I wheel the recycling down the drive to the street and think, “Didn’t I just do this yesterday? Has it really been a week?”

So why does time seem to be moving faster for some of us? Is it the lack of events to look forward to, the inability to make real plans to go anywhere — to visit out-of-state friends or family or go on vacation trips? Is it the absence of signature human rituals, such as funerals, weddings, graduations, birthday celebrations?

According to a recent L.A. Times article, the answer is yes to all the above: “For the most part, we are not taking part in particularly memorable activities, like getting drinks with a friend, going to a sporting event, or traveling,” says Marc Wittmann, an author and research fellow at the Institute for Frontier Areas of Psychology and Mental Health in Freiburg, Germany. “Now, there are fewer signals differentiating a Sunday from a Monday.”

No kidding.

The Times article also quotes Adrian Bejan, a professor at Duke University: “The brain remembers the unusual. If our new routines are suddenly different, our brains would be bombarded with images worth remembering. This would then result in the perception that time is moving slowly over the quarantine experience, though it’s likely time will feel as though it’s speeding up again as the quarantine becomes more familiar.”

Indeed.

And for those of us who aren’t sitting at home — who are working in a hospital or at home balancing a full work schedule while trying to home-school their children — it’s possible those folks will look back and feel as though this period of their lives lasted longer than normal. “When they look back, it will be the other way around.”

Time is a funny thing. Even if we’re experiencing it in different ways — fast or slow — all our clocks and calendars match. All of our days end at midnight. All of our years begin January 1st. Sunrise, sunset. Live until you can’t.

Paul Simon wrote the lyrics quoted above — the opening lines to “A Hazy Shade of Winter” — in 1966, when he was 25. Now he’s 78.

“Time, time, time … ”

Categories
Letter From The Editor Opinion

I Dreamed I Was Flying …

I’ve gotten lots of emails in the past few days. Many are gloating, “told you so, liberal scum” type deals. Others are from my fellow liberal scum suggesting that we “accept the findings of the Mueller Report and move on.” Only one problem with either of these suggestions: We haven’t seen the Mueller Report. In fact, Senator Mitch McConnell just blocked Senator Chuck Schumer’s proposal to replicate the House of Representatives’ unanimous vote to release the report.

Listen, people, it’s too early gloat, and it’s too early to lament. We have no idea what’s really in that report. Just chill. And bear in mind, if the report was really a good thing for Trump, the GOP would be passing it out on street corners and using it to sell MAGA hats, not trying to keep it under wraps. Don’t buy the “Trump is exonerated” line until we get to see the actual report and not a brief, butt-covering summation by Trump’s hand-picked attorney general. Stay woke.

And for the record, if the actual report proves that Trump was nothing more than an innocent but useful idiot in the (very real) Russian interference in the 2016 election, and not a knowing collaborator, I will say so in this column. Then you can gloat.

In the meantime, savor these words from Paul Simon’s “American Tune,” written during the darkest days of the Watergate era. Even better, go listen to it. Turn it up.

Many’s the time I’ve been mistaken
And many times confused
Yes, and often felt forsaken
And certainly misused
But I’m all right, I’m all right
I’m just weary to my bones
Still, you don’t expect to be
Bright and bon vivant
So far away from home, so far away from home

And I don’t know a soul who’s not been battered
I don’t have a friend who feels at ease
I don’t know a dream that’s not been shattered
or driven to its knees
But it’s all right, it’s all right
We’ve lived so well so long
Still, when I think of the road
we’re traveling on,
I wonder what went wrong
I can’t help it, I wonder what went wrong

And I dreamed I was dying
And I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly
And looking back down at me
Smiled reassuringly
And I dreamed I was flying
And high up above my eyes could clearly see
The Statue of Liberty
Sailing away to sea
And I dreamed I was flying

We come on the ship they call the Mayflower
We come on the ship that sailed the moon
We come in the age’s most uncertain hour
and sing an American tune
But it’s all right, it’s all right
You can’t be forever blessed
Still, tomorrow’s going to be another working day
And I’m trying to get some rest
That’s all, I’m trying to get some rest.

Categories
Music Music Features

Beale Street Music Fest 2016: Who to Watch

Beale Street Music Festival recently released the complete musical lineup for this year’s weekend-long concert. Here’s a small sample of some of the talent that will be rockin’ on the river this year.

Friday, April 29th

Neil Young + Promise of the Real

Neil Young. On the river, the first night of Beale Street Music Fest. Do I really need to tell you to be there? Do you like music? Good answer. I thought we were about to have a problem. In all seriousness, if this doesn’t get you excited, you may need to check your pulse.

Weezer

These platinum-selling pop-punkers have been at it for over 20 years, releasing hit after hit in between throwing parties on cruise ships and collaborating with current stars like Best Coast. Weezer will be on tour with Panic! At the Disco, who are also playing Friday night.

Julien Baker

Memphis’ biggest breakout star of 2015 keeps killing it, landing a spot on Beale Street Music Fest after a solid year of touring and seeing her name on every music-media outlet that’s relevant. Her first album, Sprained Ankle made plenty of year-end lists, but we were already onto Baker before she became a media darling. See our cover story on her from last summer for proof.

Trampled by Turtles

Minnesota’s Trampled by Turtles have seen their fair amount of success since forming in 2003, and the alt-country band will be setting out on a long tour with the Devil Makes Three shortly after their performance on Friday night. No stranger to festivals, the band has also played San Francisco’s Outside Lands Music and Arts Festival, Bonnaroo, Lollapalooza, Austin City Limits Music Festival, Firefly Festival, Rock the Garden, and the All Good Music Festival.

Saturday, April 30th

Yo Gotti

The king of Memphis has been on a tear lately, releasing hit after hit of club-ready, social-media-referencing rap songs. If Yo Gotti keeps up his summer show at Mud Island, this could mean that two epic outdoor Gotti concerts are heading your way soon. Yo Gotti put the city on his back, and his love for Memphis is well-known. Don’t miss Yo Gotti, and remember, it goes down in the DM.

Violent Femmes

Violent Femmes are no strangers to Memphis, having played the iconic Antenna club and, more recently, the Mud Island Amphitheater. The band has been active since 1980 and are best known for their quirky hit “Blister in the Sun,” although they’ve also had hits with “Kiss Off” and “Gone Daddy Gone.”

Cypress Hill

Who can forget the group that sang “Tell Bill Clinton to go and inhale?” Other than Snoop Dogg, no other artist or group personifies what it means to be a stoner better than Cypress Hill, the group that brought you songs like “Hits from the Bong,” “Superstar,” and “Dr. Greenthumb.” Cypress Hill were the first Latino-American rap artists to go platinum, and their music is immediately recognizable, as is B-Real’s high-pitched vocal approach. Get ready to go insane in the membrane.

Moon Taxi

Nashville’s Moon Taxi also earned a spot on Coachella, and their Day Breaker tour sees the band getting a slot on Beale Street Music Fest. Active since 2006, the band played the David Letterman Show and has had television placements from companies like BMW, HBO, the MLB, and the NFL.

Sunday, May 1st

Beck

Beck is back, only this time he’ll be at Tom Lee Park instead of the Mud Island Amphitheater. The Los Angeles singer/songwriter always puts on a great show, and his collaboration with Jay Reatard was proof that while Beck is definitely big time, he still keeps his ear to the underground. Anyone who was at his Mud Island show knows that Beck is not to be missed.

Paul Simon

Paul Simon has been a hit factory since the ’60s, cranking out songs like “Mrs. Robinson,” “The Sounds of Silence,” and “Bridge Over Troubled Water.” He was awarded the first Library of Congress Gershwin Prize for Popular Song in 2007 and has written music for Broadway and television. He’s been on Saturday Night Live 14 times and has 12 Grammy awards, making him one of the most successful artists on the entire Music Fest lineup.

Zedd

Grammy award-winner Zedd plays the last night of Beale Street Music Fest, and if the hype around this artist is any indication, his set should be a gigantic dance party. Mixing elements of electronic music with pop sensibilities, Zedd makes music larger than life, and he’s got the hardware to prove that he’s making some of the most influential music of the genre.

Alex da Ponte

Alex da Ponte just released her latest album, and the local artist is one of many worth catching over Music Fest weekend. On All My Heart, da Ponte wears her emotions on her sleeve, making for an earnest and honest album that will get stuck in your head after only a couple listens. Her song “Nevermind” is already a local hit, but don’t expect da Ponte to stay local for long.

Courtney Barnett

Courtney Barnett had a spectacular 2015 due to her amazing album Sometimes I Sit and Think and Sometimes I Just Sit. We had her album and her Third Man Records single as some of our favorites of the year, so we’ll take credit for this one. You’re welcome.

Categories
Film Features Film/TV

Obvious Child

Obvious Child is both a skeptical probing of romantic comedy clichés and a patience-trying look at what it’s like to spend a lot of time with a mediocre comedian. Its aim is true and its heart is pure-ish, though. Like the Comedy Central TV shows Inside Amy Schumer and Broad City, Gillian Robespierre’s debut generates a lot of juice by daring to show smart, interesting women acting lewdly, fearlessly, and irresponsibly. Unless their behavior has to do with unprotected sex, that is. But even then, Robespierre goes in tough, unexpected directions.

Jenny Slate plays Donna, a stand-up performer whose day job is at an “unoppressive, non-materialist” bargain bookstore that’s about to close. Donna’s regular, possibly unpaid sets at a small Brooklyn nightclub are made up of giggly, unflattering tales from her daily life: topics include her soiled underwear, her boyfriend, and her “functional” sex life. The aggressive discomfort generated during some of her bits rubs off on Donna’s interpersonal relationships offstage, though. Which is part of the reason why, five minutes into the movie, her long-time boyfriend breaks up with her.

Slate, a talented cinematic tweener, pushes this overlong expanded short film forward even when she’s leaving ill-advised voicemails in between swigs of Yellow Tail or crinkled up and crying on her fold-out couch. Donna may be tough to sympathize with, but the scenes with her roommate Nellie (Gaby Hoffmann) have an ease and intimacy that suggest those precious few minutes in a lot of John Cusack movies when he and his sister Joan would play off each other with unguarded tenderness and affection.

Because Donna’s stand-up is an attempt to reshape her day-to-day existence, her sets start to feel like impromptu therapy sessions. Her art/life experiment also means that conversations with friends and family start to feel like long auditions. Donna’s constantly trying out new material, and everyone seems to shrug or sigh it off except Max (Jake Lacy), a handsome and trusting Poindexter she meets at a bar one sloshed evening.

Max and Donna’s first encounter leads to a joyous scene wherein the Paul Simon song that inspires the film’s title is used as the soundtrack for a spontaneous, flirty little musical number. In one of the film’s only stylistic flourishes, Donna and Max’s first kisses are timed to start and stop during the numerous drum breaks of “The Obvious Child.” Just when it seems like they’re going to take things to the next level, there’s a few seconds of silence. Then the music kicks in again and Donna backs away from her man, dancing and swaying and grinning.

Obvious Child is a useful inversion of several recent schlubby male fantasies where an odd-looking, wisecracking loser winds up with a terrific, beautiful girlfriend-mom type who refuses to extinguish his Roman candle rebelliousness. This time, though, the genders are flipped: Donna is the hyper-verbal, self-deprecating fireball who scorches bland, handsome Max. In a way, the movie is a victory for moviegoers longing for a female version of Seth Rogen or Danny McBride. But those guys were never my type.