Michael Bubbles

Last night I took Dara to see Michael Bublé at the Greek Theatre in L.A. Say what you want about Southern California or L.A., but there is nothing like seeing a live band play on a summer night in the Los Angeles hills, as the twilight bruises the night sky: blue, then purple, then black; the moon shining onto the heads of thousands of happy fans. If you can get over the claustrophobic parking situation, the Greek Theatre is a beautiful venue.

Last night carried a few pleasant surprises, the first one being the opening act: Jann Arden, a Canadian adult-contemporary favourite. Her music might seem like it’s for fathers who wear Hawaiin shirts, and mothers who wear mommy-jeans hiked up over the love-handles, but if you actually listen to her songwriting, it’s really quite good. She has a knack for melodies, and her voice is beautiful and melodious. Even in my heavy music days, I always appreciated her music. And having seen her play live three times now, I can say with some authority that her live show is entertaining. Jann always banters well with the audience, which is immediately disarming for a group of people who only perk up once they hear her only real hit, “Insensitive.” Oh yeah, I know that song. I thought Alanis Morrissette sang that, the people murmur throughout the audience. I was happy to see her come on stage, and sad to see this lovely Canadian leave. But there was still one more Canadian to wow this jaded L.A. audience.

Michael Bublé came on to thunderous, if somewhat reserved, applause. His dark, moody entrance belied his casual, easy-listening musical style. As the orchestral swells and David Copperfield lights beamed his name in and around the stage-- Michael Bublé, Michael Bublé!-- I thought for a moment that I might be watching an advanced screening of an epic Roman movie of battles and blood. Perhaps Gladiator II: Gladiator-er. Not so. Michael came out crooning with his near-perfect voice and casual swagger that reminded me of the 70-year-old men in the Viagra commercials.

I liked him instantly. His honey-coated voice picks up where Frank Sinatra left off, perfecting the lines and the soft melodies of the old standards, smoothing them out, and often inflating them to three times their natural size. These songs, which are meant to be heard on vinyl while sipping a cup of Campbell’s soup, translated perfectly into elegant anthems and boisterous, bubbly melodies in this amphitheatre setting.

But Michael isn’t just a crooner, dancing that Bill Cosby dance in a $5,000 suit that’s made to look like a $500 suit, and spouting clever quips with the audience; he’s a true performer, in the old sense of the word. In the Las Vegas circa 1960-1975 sense of the word.

Michael pushed the G-rated boundaries of his genre set by the old standards, and carried out a very entertaining show, which included teasing his band, several (staged?) moments where he was molested by adoring fans, and an earnest though thoroughly unconvincing attempt to prove to his audience that his music can be manly. He finished this diatribe with a hilariously tongue-in-cheek performance of Y.M.C.A. In short, his show was fun. Ultimately, when he sings “Feeling Good,” (a song made famous by Nina Simone and Sammy Davis Jr., and perfected in his version), you can’t help but get shivers. Maybe that doesn’t sound manly, I dunno. In any case, I gotta go: Y.M.C.A. just came up on my iPod and I have some dancing to do.

Can't sleep

It's now about 1:00 am, and though I have to get up in five hours, I just can't sleep. Could be the movie we saw ("Superbad," the latest Judd Apatow offering), or the food I ate (a rushed chicken dinner for me), or the cat sleeping in between my legs so I can't move, or the weekend-long celebration of Dara's new job, starting with meals out and culminating in a too-expensive shopping spree, but probably it was the Coke. In any case, here I sit in the livingroom trying to make myself sleepy, but the only person falling asleep is you, dear reader. Perhaps I'll go look at my latest story and see what a few days of sitting has done to you. Nothing will make me sleepier than editing. So that's that. Good night and good luck.

Good things come...

...to those who don't wait on their ass! Today my darling Dara got a job after weeks and weeks of intense searching, interviews, follow up, heartache and hoping. But she didn't get a job because she waited for it to come to her; she got it because she deserved it. Well done, Dara!

Short Story #1. Blog Post #200

After getting up an hour early every day for the past two weeks to work on my writing, I've just completed the first draft of my first short story in this new whirwind of writing. Title: TBD. Quality: TBD. Word count: 8,422.

Scary legislation

Two American pieces of legislation have recently been signed into law, and they scare the hell out of me:

While the Democratic-controlled congress was itching to get away for some vacation time, the Bush Administration was able to push its warrantless wiretapping laws into effect. The government is now able to listen in on phone conversations and emails without any accountability from congress, and scant judicial supervision.

Perhaps even more chillingly, several weeks ago, Bush issued a sweeping order banning the American people from protesting--in any form--against the Iraq war. Broadly written, and self-righteously titled "Block Property of Certain Persons who Threaten Stabilization Efforts in Iraq," the U.S. government is now allowed to freeze the assets of someone who has been deemed to fit into the above category.

While freedom of privacy is not a constitutionally protected right in the U.S., it is loosely upheld by the Supreme Court. In any case, with privacy and freedom of speech being tossed out the window by a government that is increasing its consolidation of power, all the while disconnecting further and further from a population it is losing favour with, one can only think how scary it all is.

Blogger's block

My wife has been trying to encourage me to blog, owing to my rather infrequent postings lately. I haven't felt much like blogging lately, not because there's nothing to write about, but rather because I've been busy writing non-blog related material. In accordance with a promise I made myself, I've been getting up an hour early to do some writing, and I'm pretty excited about it. The past two weeks have been spent working on a short story, that has climbed to 30 pages and counting. I should be done my first draft early this week. It's no great masterpiece, but as Natalie Goldberg suggests, I'm "Writing Down the Bones." That is to say, I've been practicing; shaking off the rust from writing. As you can tell, I need to do a lot more shaking.

In any case, things have been going relatively well. Dara is still sans employment (a source of increasing frustration for her), but we've been keeping busy to try to pass the time. To save money, we've been eating at home a lot more (I'd say 94% of our meals), which has been difficult. It's also made us more creative. We've had pot roast, and even fondue. We've been entertaining ourselves on the cheap, which has included swimming in our beautiful pools, going to $7 movies (courtesy Irvine Company cheap movie tickets, and occasionally sticking around for a second movie) and renting.

So as you can see, there's not too much for me to write about these days. Pot roast doesn't make for exciting blogs. But maybe I'll have some stories to share soon enough.

Peace out.