FINDING SERENDIPITY IN THE GREAT AMERICAN SONGBOOK

There is a place, or (more accurately) a state of mind called "music euphoria" -- and only the best songs possess the ability to transport one there.

And...

Yesterday, while trying to plum the depths of the so-called "Great American Songbook", I had the good fortune of being transported to that magical place not once, but TWICE.

While plugging various song titles into my spotify account, I stumbled upon a lovely little ditty entitled "Side by Side" recorded by pop/jazz singer Kay Starr in 1953.  The recording features Starr essentially performing a duet with herself -- and in her voice, there is something so elegantly sensuous, yet also carefree and whimsical.  It is this exact happy-go-lucky sultriness that sends one straight into that state of music euphoria.  For me, while listening to "Side by Side", euphoria feels something like visiting a snazzy donut shop just off the highway in Texas in the 1960s.  It feels like my name is Dinah and I'm flirting with congenial truck drivers while sipping black coffee and wearing one of those fabulous check-printed dresses.

I guess I'd like to define music euphoria as a song's ability to make me happy whilst also setting my imagination afire with compelling images -- the ability to transport me to a different time or location.

Check out the song below.  Turn it up, close your eyes (and ignore the youtube picture montage).  Does it make you blissful?  Does it make you think of anything in particular?  Does it transport you some place else?



What about "Yes Sir, That's My Baby" recorded by Frank Sinatra in 1966?



I don't know about you, but for some reason, this song makes me think about tripping the light fantastic with my future spouse during our first dance at our wedding.  WHAT?!  I never think about marriage!  I don't even have a boyfriend!  Perhaps the sense of music euphoria here comes from watching one too many Nora Ephron rom-coms with Harry Connick, Jr. songs in them!  Perhaps.  For whatever reason, this song makes me feel absolutely ecstatic and in love.

So, my ears were pretty stoked about the momentous occasion that was discovering both of these songs within the span of one afternoon.  Because I liked both tunes so much, I decided to look-up who wrote them.  Imagine my surprise when I discovered that both were written by the same lyricist...

Some guy named Gus Kahn...

... who is supposedly a legend of Tin Pan Alley.

Now, I don't know the first thing about Tin Pan Alley, but I do know the unmistakable feeling I get when a piece of music inspires me.  And yesterday, I discovered a new favorite song lyricist from the era of the showtune... and (just possibly) the song for the first dance at my wedding.  No small feat!

The funny thing is that during college, my roommate and I had Sinatra's "Strangers in the Night" (the record that "Yes Sir, That's My Baby" is featured on) hanging on our living room wall for two years.  And we never listened to it because neither of us could play vinyl.

The moral of this incredibly random story is that old music is a treasure trove of euphoric tunes, but we're all too caught-up in the present to take a listen.  Maybe now is a good time to actually meet that goal of getting a record player and collecting vinyl.

Ciao.


Your somewhat pretentious friend,

Lauren

HERB

“When I have an apartment of my own, one of the first things I’m going to do is buy an Herb Ritts print to hang on the wall,” said my friend Jhasilyn as we left the Getty Center last week. All I could do was smile and agree with her. Why?

 … because we had come full-circle. Nearly a decade ago, we were two awkward teens in our 9th-grade photography class, presenting a Powerpoint slideshow on the work of a photographer that neither of us knew or truly understood… Herb Ritts.

The year was 2003. Less than two months before our presentation, Ritts had died of complications of pneumonia – and that was pretty much the extent of our familiarity with him. We had seen reports of his death on the news – and were reminded of the Britney Spears and Janet Jackson music videos he directed. When our teacher assigned us the task of researching a photographer and presenting a Powerpoint slideshow on our findings, we decided to do our project on Ritts (because his name was fresh on our minds). After all, the man was famous for directing music videos and photographing celebrities. In the end, that’s the kind of thing that truly matters to 14-year-olds.

What fate it is that ten years after our presentation, Jhasilyn and I should both be in the great city of Los Angeles… and that an exhibition of the work of Herb Ritts should be on display at the Getty Center!

Anyway.

Walking around that great gamut of Ritts prints the other day, I was taken aback by more than just the artistic prettiness in front of me. While gazing upon photos of Richard Gere and Cindy Crawford, I realized that Herb Ritts has had a HUGE influence on my artistic preferences. It’s almost purely a subconscious influence, but it’s one that has held a grip on me for years… and I haven’t even been cognizant of it.

So, what is it about these simple black and white celebrity photographs that have compelled me from a young age and never let me go?

When I was in middle school and the Calvin Klein ad below adorned my Social Studies binder, I had no earthly idea who had taken the picture. Frankly, I didn’t give two craps because I’m pretty sure I liked the picture for something beyond its aesthetic merits. BUT it goes to show that Ritts has been a part of my life since my youth… even when I didn’t know his name.

The first time I registered the name Herb Ritts was when ‘N Sync released the music video for their single “Gone.” It was black and white. It was artsy-fartsy – the kind of music video where you’re really AWARE of the fact that somebody directed it… And the name on the title card was “Herb Ritts.”



Okay, so here’s the part of the blog entry where I try to make a point and tell you why I’m writing all of this in the first place.

It’s a little embarrassing, but I’ll just go ahead and say it.

I absolutely adore black and white films. Quite frankly, it sounds cooler to say that the movies of Elia Kazan or cinematographer Gregg Toland influenced this adoration… rather than a dumb music video by a boy band that’s basically slipped into irrelevancy for most people. While making a film, you can’t really turn to your cinematographer and say “Hey, why don’t we make this look like that N Sync video?” without being chuckled at and taken far less seriously. So, you play it cool and you recommend that he/she take notes on the imagery in Woody Allen’s MANHATTAN.

Well, as always, I’m through trying to be cool in front of other people! This blog makes me look asinine ninety percent of the time anyway.

Herb Ritts and his photos and music videos have influenced my love of black and white more than any classic movie! And Ritts shouldn’t be deemed less relevant or taken less seriously because he worked with a few tongue-in-cheek musical artists… or because he took pictures of some silly celebrities for silly fashion magazines. The man was truly brilliant.

To look at some of his pictures is to take a lesson in photography. Each photograph is an homage to simplicity and contrast. Because his style is so sparse, you really get a sense of the subject he’s photographing. Oftentimes, the subject is a person.

In every aspect of filmmaking, contrast is everything. Actors can’t really play a scene believably unless they possess at least minutely opposing objectives. A film goes nowhere if it lacks a sense of conflict. (And conflict is totally just a fancy way of saying “contrast,” is it not?)

There’s nothing more blatantly contrast-y than black and white photography. So, I find it a great conundrum that more movies aren’t made in black and white.

I’m an old soul. I think Herb Ritts was too. In fact, I think his work helped to make an old soul of me. After all, it took traipsing around a gallery of his work for me to realize I had to put into a blog entry my love of black and white.

Back in 9th grade, Jhasilyn and I didn’t know much about Mr. Ritts. Actually, we still don’t! However, I believe we were on to something when we did our presentation on him. We connected to his work… and how, through black and white imagery, he unearthed the sincerity in his subjects.

And where art is concerned, WHAT is more important than that?

Ciao for now.