Even Devon Sawa is addicted to texting

I know this because he was sitting directly in front of me last night at the world premiere of Valkyrie, leaving me to wonder: Who on earth has Devon Sawa slighted to get put up here in the cheap seats with me and my friend, esteemed as we are?

While I wasn't staring at the back of the former teen star's head, admiring each blond hair perfectly in place, I had some time to watch the new Tom Cruise vehicle, directed by Bryan Singer (The Usual Suspects, X-Men). From the start, the movie has the feel of those BIG war movies; ones that perhaps could have been made in the 1940s, with big explosions, bulletted alerts to the location and year at the opening of each scene, planes soaring over views of North Africa, or Berlin, or the Eastern Front in Russia. It tells of the real-life failed attempt (one of 15) on the life of Adolf Hitler, rife with the Titanic effect (ie, maybe this time the ship won't sink... maybe this time in history they will kill him!) so you're on the edge of your seat most of the movie, despite the grim certainty that you kind of know how this all will end.

Tom Cruise is resolute and determined as Colonel Stauffenberg, a dissolusioned German soldier driving the assasination plot forward. His performance is OK, but I think used the physical limitatations of the character as too much of a crutch--as moving as it was to watch Cruise painstakingly button his shirt after losing a hand and three fingers to a bomb blast, struggling with a physical handicap does not an actor make. Stauffenberg also lost his left eye, which is used as a clever stage device for the film, such as when he drops his plastic eye in a co-conspirator's drink as a signal. It's also used for dramatic effect when, three quarters of the movie in, he turns slowly while shaving and the full injury is revealed up close. It's ironic, too, that for much of the movie Stauffenberg is the only one that really sees what's going on -- the evil around them, Germany's honor lost, the true stakes of their plot.

With memorable turns by Bill Nighy, Tom Wilkinson and Eddie Izzard, the movie is worth forking over $10 for over the holiday season, but I doubt we'll see it in the Oscar one.

Slumdog Millionare

Best movie of the year.
Slumdog Millionare, Brit director Danny Boyle's (Trainspotting) latest, takes us on a tour of modern-day India through the memories of Jamal Malik (Dev Patel), an office worker who has just won millions of dollars on the program, "Who Wants to Be A Millionare?" Since he is just a "slumdog," his honor is challenged and he is accused of cheating and questioned by police. The interrogation reveals a tapestry of events in Jamal's young and tragic life, woven together by screenwriter Simon Beaufoy (based on the novel Q&A, by Vikas Swarup), that contains clues as to where this young man found the answers. The result is a beautiful, heartbreaking and ultimately redemptive story of love and survival in a brutal world.

It's not you, it's me

It isn’t working. And if I’m honest with myself, it never was.

We got together last March when his predecessor, a small blue Pantech, lost his head. I'd had high hopes for that one -- I nicknamed him Zoolander phone, because it looked like the one Zoolander had in that movie. But he was too small to live, though we had some good times together. For awhile, I tried taping both halves of his body together, but eventually, there was nothing anyone could do.

They said this one – a Nokia – was my only option, since the Zoolander was no longer being made. I’m not one to settle, but it seemed like all a girl of my means could do.

I hoped for the best. I tried to ignore his weird habits, like delivering my texts days after they were sent, only dialing out on his terms, always being tired (he's had a hard day), sometimes not letting my calls through (he's just protective, and a little jealous!) but it wasn't easy. I felt he was too masculine, with his big brute exterior, big buttons and even larger font.

I felt like he never suited me.

We reached the last bar, if you will, when the offenses became just too obvious. I would call out, and though I could hear who I called, they couldn't hear me. I was constantly taking his battery out and putting it back in; it was exhausting. I missed a few important calls, and friends thought i was ignoring them. What if there was an emergency?

It was with this resolute understanding I took him to 42nd and 5th yesterday. I’d stopped into another Cingular (excuse me, AT & T) the day before, flirting with the idea of leaving him there and ending it for good. I would cut my losses and run. But it turned out there was hope: the salesman believed I was under my warranty. I could trade him in for a new model, just like a man having a mid-life crisis! Just go to 42nd and 5th he said. I felt like I was sent to see the wizard.

I signed in at the magical 42nd and 5th cell phone repair center and waited for thirty minutes. The crowd was like the one you would find at a tow center: a sad, sorry lot, knowing they are about to get ripped off. Sighs filled the air. But not me, I had hope. A young, bespectacled man with a moustache asked if he could help.

“Yes, my phone’s not working, I understand I may be eligible for a new one since it is still within my warranty?” He went to type on his computer.


“It’s never worked," I added. "Not since I got it.” He looked back up at me patiently. I told him everything – the disappointment I felt, the betrayal, and that I didn’t ask for much, just the ability to receive calls, and that this phone just seemed incapable of even that. I didn’t even want internet! When I was finished, he looked back down at his computer.


“I’m sorry ma’am, but this is a refurbished phone. The warranty is up after 90 days.”

I stood, and tried to not to show my sinking heart. "But... I never even wanted him. He was all they would give me."


Spectacles was sympathetic, but unmoved. Was I at least eligible for a free upgrade?

“No, it says here you’re not.”

I wanted to say more, but realized there was nothing left to say. It was over. I turned to go, and he called after me. I stopped, and turned around.

"Theres a store, right down the block, if you want to try that one. Maybe the computer’s wrong, maybe you can get that upgrade.”

I saluted him, and walked to the next store.

New Salesman on 41st and 5th was talking to someone, but asked if he could help me. I explained I needed a new phone, trying to shake off the dejection I still felt. As he took me to the section, I saw one that looked exactly like the one I had.

“No!" I said, shuddering. "Nothing like this one. I don’t care what it is, just nothing like this one. Not even the brand."

He gave me the same look the last man had.

We walked back to the computer where he, too, informed me I was not due for an upgrade yet. I could go to Best Buy, he suggested, and buy one of these (his arm waved over to the section of darkness, where they all looked chillingly like the one I had) but then would be charged $100 for them to activate it. I could get a new phone now, but anything that didn't look like the piece of crap I had was hundreds. Could I just cancel and go somewhere else? No, that would cost me too.


How much do I have to keep giving when I'm getting nothing back? I’d done everything right, I told him – paid my bills on time, charged him when he needed it, never got him wet...but I couldn’t win. It wouldn't work. How much longer did I have to wait for what I needed?

March 30, 2009, said the salesman.

Saturday Medley

On Saturday, after having two cavities filled, I tried to dull my mild existential unease at having to face uncomfortable and physically painful moments throughout life by hunkering down in front of the television.

On this rainy day, I found my attention split between Kramer vs. Kramer and Reign Over Me, neither of which I'd seen before. I always think it's interesting watching movies in this sort of context (laying on your couch, not totally committed), as opposed to the focused attention you'll give something you paid ten bucks for, or rented for an evening.

Reign Over Me was really good in that subtle, Saturday morning way. It may not have been the best pick for trying to feel better about life, as one of the main characters, Charlie Fineman (Adam Sandler), is suffering from post-traumatic stress after losing his wife and three daughters in one of the plane crashes on 9/11. When his former roommate from dental school, Alan Johnson (Don Cheadle) runs into Charlie, he's saddened to see what the loss has done to his old friend -- Charlie is barely functioning in society, living in a bubble world that is guarded by his landlady and accountant, the only people he lets in, despite repeated attempts from his former in-laws to be in his life. He can't face the memory of his family, or the horrifying circumstances of their death.

Alan is also intrigued by the life Charlie has set up for himself, a solitary life based on scootering through the streets of New York, Mel Brooks comedy movies, and video games. His wife even accuses him of being jealous of Charlie's freedom.

Their rekindled friendship cracks open a window out Charlie's world, and he begins to experience life a little more, which doesn't always bring the best consequences. Alan changes too, recognizing in himself the ways that he too has shut people out.

Adam Sandler's performance was great... at times heartbreaking, at times funny. When he is finally able to talk to his wife's parents, telling them it's easier for them because they still have eachother, and that he sees his family everywhere, which is why he doesn't need to talk about it, my numbed face came very close to showing emotion. And then when he said, "I even see the dog. A german shepard walks in I see a poodle. That's how f-ed up I still am" (referring to the family dog, who was also on board), I shed a tear (from the active, left side of my face.)

Kramer vs. Kramer, a classic, was also quite good. I only saw the last twenty minutes which I think is enough for me to confidently say I agree that Dustin Hoffman and Meryl Streep are fine actors! And that kid was damn cute.

Also, soundtrack to Reign Over Me was amazing! Charlie uses his headphones to tune out the world and has a great choice of stuff to do it with. Really liked the Springsteen, and the Pretenders song, Stop Your Sobbing.

Yeah they did

:)

Yes we can

Spring Mermaid

Whenever it was 3 in the morning and we were working on deadline at my college newspaper, desperate to file a review, a co-editor would tell me to just say they were a revelation. The newest chick flick? A revelation. The star of Fordham’s latest theatrical effort? A revelation.
For the first time I really want to use that word to describe Spring Awakening, which I finally (finally) saw last week. The musical is so different from most you find these days, with its fist-pumping, punk, soundtrack, and devastating story of teenage self discovery.
Set in Germany in 1891, the play begins in a classroom, with a harsh disciplinarian headmaster. Students are not rewarded for questioning the world around them, but punished, and any “impure” conversation is left in whispers. Bright young Meltchior (Hunter Parrish, in his Broadway debut, best known for his spot on Showtime’s hit series Weeds) lives spiritedly, and questions the repressive world around him. He finds a kindred spirit in Wendla (Emily Kinney), a pretty young German who lives nearby, who is tragically naïve to the ways of the world. The show cruelly depicts the consequences of not being true to yourself (or of trying to stay true to yourself) despite the conflicting current of the world around you.
Parrish is charismatic as young Meltchior, but I kept finding myself wondering what the original cast member’s take was on the part, which makes me think his performance could have been better, because I never once second guessed the dazzling performance of the experienced Gerard Canonico as Moritz, a troubled, lost young teen who simply couldn’t live within the bounds of the society around him. His voice, full of pain and energy, fills up the entire theater. People in the rows were struggle not to rock out with the cast up until the moving finale of The Song of Purple Summer.
On Saturday, I joined my family, and a cute three-year-old seated in front of me for The Little Mermaid on Broadway, where the theater itself is aqua-themed and bright, inviting you into the fun, and a far cry from Spring Awakening… OR WAS IT?
Both are about the consequences of excessive parental or societal control. People rebel – mostly through song, when it comes to Broadway, whether it is Ariel singing longingly to be a part of another world, or the heartbreaking lyrics of “I Don’t Do Sadness,” Moritz’ best song in Spring Awakening. And without the right information, the consequences can be disastrous: in Spring Awakening, they are a suicide and an unwanted pregnancy and in the Little Mermaid, it's making a deal with the devil to get legs.
The Little Mermaid is an incredibly professional and lively production, featuring a stellar cast. Sierra Burgess is pitch perfect as Arial, and Ursula (Sherie Rene Scott) almost steals the show, with a slightly feminist take on the villain (she won’t take her voice for granted again, she muses about Ariel, once she knows what it’s like to be silenced).
The Little Mermaid, since its Disney, predictably delivers the characters safely through the difficult transition of adulthood, while the characters of Spring Awakening are not so fortunate. They both end on a note of promise, whether it’s with the traditional “girl meets boy and lives happily ever after,” or the solitary figure of hope amidst ruin in Spring Awakening.
(Also, I got a cool Little Mermaid cup on my way out of the theater, which makes me happy and hopeful.)

Gerard Manley Hopkins

Since Michael Dirda says it better than my press release...

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/10/30/AR2008103003614.html

On sale today! Come on, a biography of a Jesuit poet who conquers loneliness and despair through faith and poetry... a great gift for the banker/stockbroker in your family!

How to have style

In this morning’s Wall Street Journal, On Style columnist Christina Binkley wrote about the suit that turns her into a VIP. The writer, who says she’s middle class and typically shops at Saks off Fifth Avenue or Banana Republic, has one investment that completely transforms her: a St. John suit. Valued at over $5000, she says it gets her a prime seat at swank restaurants, and even got a pro baseball player talking to her on an airplane, telling her where she should go for shoes. When she changes back into her Banana Republic pantsuit? Back to the end of the line.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB122532908184782719.html?mod=article-outset-box
I just went on a shopping spree at Target for my fall wardrobe, and with this economic climate, could relate more to the Cheapskate column, directly below Binkley's:

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB122532749442982533.html

I think my attitude falls somewhere in between. Having kept my best dressed friends' fashion cues in mind while shopping (stick to basics, mix and match, above all, LAYER), I think there's a way to "dress for success" on a budget. Just putting in an extra ten minutes of work into my appearance in the morning (you mean it's not the best idea to just roll out of bed?), and pairing a cute (but $7.99!) belt with an outfit I already feel more confident at work, which in turn makes me better at my job. Which means maybe some day I can afford that St. John suit...but for now, will settle for getting a cab quicker.

Next on the reading list: How to Have Style, by Isaac Mizrahi. http://www.amazon.com/How-Have-Style-Gotham-Books/dp/1592403921/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1225385751&sr=8-1

Baby Steps

Taking a cue from my friend DP's blog, I am injecting some stream of consciousness here. I just worked up the nerve to email an influential magazine editor I interviewed many years ago for a small newspaper when her first novel came out. Seeing if I can nudge my way a little further into this freelancing career... my ratio of disappointments to success has been alarmingly large in the past two weeks so hopefully my career karma will realign itself soon. If I throw enough darts at the board, one of them has to make it. Well, not really, but I'm weirdly good at darts.

http://74.205.125.148/Repository/ml.asp?Ref=U1BFLzIwMDUvMDkvMjkjQXIwMjkwMg==&Mode=HTML&Locale=english-skin-custom

Hell's Bells, Trudy

With the Cuban Missile crisis as its backdrop, the outstanding and measured Mad Men concluded its second season with its most satisfying episode yet. It brought Don Draper (swoon) home, and back to Sterling Cooper where he belongs, and made some surprising (and not so surprising) revelations to both the audience and to some blindsided characters.

As the panic of nuclear threat left each character fearful and distracted in their own way, the business of ad agency Sterling Cooper continued, just as the messy personal lives of its employees remained hidden beneath that polished and neat Madison Avenue veneer—a veneer almost as attractive as the characters themselves. But just like the society around them, the unrest is bubbling closer and closer to the surface, and has been just barely restrained in its final episodes leading up to the finale.

The two things I love most about this show is how so much of their dissatisfaction is a result of the world around them. Some (cough, Betty Draper, cough) are practically on the verge of madness and you want to just reach through the looking glass (or television screen) to shake them and shout, “It’s not you! It’s the world around you! Betty, pop a Xanax!” So many of their personal problems could be resolved with just a little more perspective, like when Don (Jon Hamm), dealing with the possible dissolution of his marriage, explains his problems and expresses his fears and doubts to a confidante. When she suggests calling his wife to tell her, he responds simply and without a trace of doubt, “No, that would just complicate things.” Dude, you are about to lose the super hot January Jones (the actress who portrays Betty). Just tell her you love her, damn it! They are so clearly trapped in their time and only vaguely aware of their prison, it sometimes hurts to watch. You want to hand them the key so badly. Never is this phenomenon more painful than it is with Joan, the curvy, mother-hen secretary of the office, whose wits match her stunning good looks. For her, the glass ceiling is more like a glass box. At work, she’s thwarted at every turn toward professional success by less talented men. At home, she’s resigned herself to an engagement with a handsome, successful doctor that looks great from the outside, but in reality is devoid of all love and respect. The dude is insecure, bossy, and so jealous of her sexual past and life at work that he forces himself on her after hours in her boss’s office. And worst of all, there probably isn’t a happy ending for Joan, and wasn’t for most women like her at that time.

The other thing I love about this show is that the characters are so finely drawn, and so complex, that it took me a good 4 to 5 episodes to realize that most of them are, quite frankly, despicable. In the span of an average 4 to 5 episodes, nearly everyone commits adultery, has babies and doesn’t tell the father, neglects their children, and only stop smoking and drinking to commit adultery, have babies and neglect their children some more. But the beauty of the show is that despite all of this (slightly exaggerated here) bad behavior, you can’t help but sympathize with them and root for them as they blindly stumble about trying to make sense of their lives. Beneath Betty’s steely, Hitchockian blonde façade, there’s a vulnerable woman who took all the steps she was supposed to and still can’t figure out why she’s not happy. And beneath the narcissism of Roger Sterling (John Slattery) is well… more self-involvement, but he sure is fun to watch. Especially when he’s headed to the bar or the nearest 20-year-old female, which is pretty much all the time.

The show wrestles with all the great themes, like religion, mortality, and the definitions of personal and professional success, often seen through the lens of the ads the mad men work so hard to create. The acting is almost theatrical (especially the performance of Elizabeth Moss, who plays Peggy Olson, the ambitious young secretary turned copywriter, whose scenes were so electric in the finale); it’s so alive on the screen you’d think the emotions were happening right before you.

I jumped in this season and can’t wait to see what I missed in Season 1. Marathon soon. I’m wondering if I can get away with dressing up in a 1950s costume, drinking scotch and smoking Lucky Strikes all day while living in my parent’s house (They may think I’m crazy though. I’m living in the looking glass, too).

Mad Men

http://www.nytimes.com/aponline/arts/AP-AP-on-TV-Mad-Men.html

Review to come after the Sunday night Season 2 finale! But as the article notes, leading man Jon Hamm will be on Saturday Night Live this weekend. Will be interesting to see him do comedy after being so used to his reserved, chilly manner on the show. I hope they do a Mad Men skit...

Dead Until Dark

At the end of last week, I found myself headed for a long train ride with nothing to read, a precarious position for someone who barely knows how to charge her ipod. I was actually ahead in my galley and manuscript reading for work for the first time in…ever, and had just finished the un-put-down-able “Time of My Life,” by Allison Winn Scotch. Hoping for another score, I stopped into the Borders by Penn Station with the vague idea I might try “American Wife,” by Curtis Sittenfeld, the story of Laura Bush’s life put to fiction. Instead I found myself with the unexpected purchase of Dead Until Dark, by Charlaine Harris, the first in a series of books upon which the new HBO show True Blood is based.

This all happened because I couldn’t find American Wife anywhere, which is always aggravating for people who work in publishing. It’s hard enough to get people to buy books! And to go into a store, looking for a book you know is popular, and not only does it not stand out when you walk in but is not in its proper place in the fiction section? Sigh.

What WAS appropriately placed in the front, due to the popularity of the HBO shows, was Dead Until Dark. Though I wouldn’t normally pick out a mystery book about vampires (despite having been a Buffy fan back in the day) my curiosity was piqued by it’s connection to the show (http://www.hbo.com/trueblood/), which recently occupied me for 6 straight hours on a lazy Sunday afternoon. As the Amtrak train pulled out of Penn Station at 5:45 p.m., I dove into Harris’s campy, sexy world of mind readers, vampires and shape-shifters and by Sunday morning, had polished the whole thing off. So good!

The story is set in the fictional town of Bon Temps, Louisiana, sometime in the near-ish future, where vampires are “out of the coffin." No longer hiding their existence, some try to co-exist peacefully with people (now that a synthetic blood has been developed for them, making it not totally necessary to feed on humans), while others hold strong to their predatory ways. One vampire in particular, Bill Compton, tries to “mainstream” by settling back into his family estate (which was left empty by the passing of one of his descendants) and catches the eye of pretty waitress Stookie Stackhouse. Sookie has a bit of a disability of her own: she can read minds, which has hampered almost all her relationships, let alone a sexual one (try getting in the mood when you know what they really think of your butt, she laments). Though she tries to keep up a mental guard blocking her from people’s heads, in Bill, she finds peace, since for some reason his thoughts remain effortlessly closed off to her. Just as an attraction starts to develop (really, who can resist a dark, brooding vampire who was last human during the Civil War? No, seriously, he’s kind of hot, check out Stephen Moyer http://www.hbo.com/trueblood/ who takes on the role for the show) the unease, tensions and suspicions of the supernatural come to a head in this small town in terrifying and violent ways. A series of murders erupts, targeting women who have been involved with the vamps. Will Sookie be next?

Addictive as the television show, this book too proved impossible to walk away from (even if you are confined to a railway car and don’t have a choice). Memorable and recognizable characters dot the hot, southern landscape, and Harris plays with the town’s reaction to the vampires as a metaphor for racism or homophobia, and the effects of vampire blood as similar to drug use. Finishing the book, you kind of miss the paranormal and captivating world these characters inhabit. Is it weird I kind of wished I could work with Sookie at Merlotte’s, dodge the undead, and hang out with people who remember the Civil War? Probably, but hey, I did say I was a Buffy fan. My only regret was that I didn't have the second installment for the train ride home!

Secret Life of Bees

Last night I joined fellow Penguins for an advanced screening of Secret Life of Bees, the movie adaptation of Sue Monk Kidd's bestselling novel. You certainly can't beat the ensemble cast of Academy Award winners, musical talent, and er, blonde child actors like Jennifer Hudson, Queen Latifah, Sophie Okenedo (the adorable actress from Hotel Rwanda), Alicia Keys and Dakota Fanning (who, as my colleage quoted a friend, is on her list of people to kill. Disturbing, but I suppose understandable. (Disclaimer: this post is in no way a threat to Ms. Fanning)). The movie was enjoyable, but I felt like something was missing. I can't tell if it was just because perhaps the movie's plot doesn't adapt well to the big screen -- not a whole lot happens, in my mind, to move it along (though it is an enchanting coming of age story) or if it just simply didn't work, despite the enormous talent behind it.

Lily is a 14-year old motherless girl from South Carolina, who has grown up with a terrible knowledge and guilt about her mother's death. Raised by her abusive (but at second look complicated) father, T-Ray (played by Paul Bettany, who found ways to inject a bit of sympathy for the character, who otherwise would have been flat and hateful), life for Lily is spent writing and daydreaming of her mother, who she feels is the only person that ever loved her. When her nanny, Rosaleen (Hudson) is beaten by local racists, and T-Ray tells the young girl that her mother had abandoned her without a second look, Lily decides to flee, taking her nanny with her. Armed with the few belongings she has of her mother, including a mysterious picture of a Black Madonna, their journey leads them to the home of the Boatwright sisters, who make the best honey in South Carolina.

Then the thing that happens in all female bonding movies start to happen. August (Queen Latifah) teaches Lily about the world and about love, through the lens of life in the bee kingdom, set to an out-of-place emo-ish soundtrack (with the occasional Motown thrown in). Hearts break and mend and everyone learns a shiny new lesson about themselves.

The cast is incredible, and some of the actresses seem to be molded perfectly for their roles -- Queen Latifah nestles effortlessly into the motherly character of August, and Okenedo is perfect as the ultra-sensitive May, as is Keys for the volatile June. Dakota Fanning is just what I think most pictured for the part of Lily. Director Gina Blythewood-Price (Love and Basketball) clearly had a vision when making this film, and stuck to it with a professional touch.

Worth seeing, but maybe wait for video?

(Except TOTALLY buy the book, which is charming and lovely and written by the incredibly talented Kidd. In fact buy a few copies. Times are hard and I need to pay my bills!)

Body of Lies

Before I see a movie, I've usually read at least one review, either because I was interested in it and wanted to check it out, or, because I read the review and then chose to see it (an act that makes me happy as a publicist that my job serves a purpose). I saw Body of Lies last night for a friend's birthday knowing nothing about it, because aside from Leo Dicaprio being really freaking hot, didn't have much of an interest. Which is interesting, because my marketing friend who I went to see it with said she read that this was a challenge for marketers of the movie -- people rarely go out to see movies about the current "situation" in the Middle East (I say situation in quotes because there was a great part in the movie where a Jordanian character takes offense to Dicaprio's character referring to the Iraq war as a "situation," when it had wreaked such havoc on their lives).
Anyway, it was nice going into this movie with no preconceived notions. We entered the theater and went on quite the ride through Imman, Jordan; Baghdad, Iraq; Turkey; Langley,VA and Washington DC and through the dark tunnels of American and Jordanian intelligence, and the ugly underbelly of terrorism in the Middle East. We entered the movie much like the characters entered dangerous situations: "Shoot me if anything goes wrong, I do not want my head cut off on the internet." I kind of felt like, poke me when it's time for me to take my glasses off and be blind because I can't watch someone get tortured right now.
But it was good -- fast-paced, and really forced your nose in all the crap that is going on over there, when it's usually easier to just change the channel when it comes up on the news. Lines between good and evil are blurred, unexpected turns, who's your friend, who do you trust, guy falls for hot girl, hot girl falls in harms way, blah blah blah... but good blah blah.
Ok so that was my first stab at a movie review in years, next one will be better!

i should write more

This is just a reminder to myself and the one reader out there that I should try to post on here more regularly, to stay in the habit.
That is all.

Yay!

http://www.newsday.com/services/newspaper/printedition/sunday/lilife/ny-a5670267may04,0,6988283.story

Beggars and Scholars

Dan Konisburg and Ryan Murry love music — so much that it’s not uncommon for them to burst into song, no matter where they are.
“Should we warm up with a song?” asks Dan as I step into his lower east side apartment, his 8-month old mini labradoodle, Marlee, begging me to throw his toy.
This is part of what defines Beggars and Scholars, the band they started more than 8 years ago as students in Emory University in Atlanta. Back at Emory, aside from playing in local bars and campus shows, they would play in an elevator or a stairwell – any forum that would allow them to do what they love. Now living in New York, they continue this tradition. Like the lonely musician/Hoover repairman singing his heart out in last year’s “Once,” they’ll set up on a street corner, just to play. One of their favorite places to play is Washington Square Park.
“I just love that place,” says Dan, whose grandfather grew up nearby the park. “I feel like there is so much history and culture.”
They’ve also played backyards (including my own), if the mood strikes, and a subway, if the car stalls.
“But not in that obnoxious way,” Dan is sure to point out. “We even rap about how we’re not singing to make money, just to entertain.”
Their unsuspecting audiences rarely complain, and it was in Washington Square Park where they met fellow bandmate, Nyelee, who began freestyling to their song, Beggars and Scholars.
“And we had just been thinking, wouldn’t it be cool if…” trails off Ryan.
They met the fourth bandmate Mitch Friedman, a New York University student at Press Toast, a restaurant on Macdougal Street, whom they credit for focusing the band’s energy and call an excellent songwriter.

“We’re a true New York story,” says Dan with a smile.

After graduating, they decided not to pursue music full time. Instead, Dan nurtured an idea that had come about his senior year: CampMinder, a web-based business management system that connects camps with parents, staff and alumni by allowing them to interact with the camp via a portal on the camp’s website. Aside from giving them the financial backbone to pursue music, the business has also opened up opportunities: camp events became venues for the musicians.
“They are loving it,” laughs Dan, showing a picture of five kids who painted “Nile” on their chests at a show/camp event.
“Marlee, no!” Dan interrupts himself, as Marlee leaps onto my lap and steals a pen.
One thing Dan has learned about business is not to launch a product until it is ready, which is why, as a band, they have been more than happy to take their time and give their music a chance to mature.
Their music is a combination of roots, folk, and pop. It sounds like a mix of Coldplay and Radiohead (though they are reluctant to categorize it as such, since they feel their music is so versatile). Throw in elements of funk, thanks to the freestyling effects of NyelLee.
One thing that stands out is the sensitive nature of their lyrics, which come from personal experience.
“They usually come from a personal situation. It’s therapeutic,” says Dan.
This may not seem particularly original for a musician, but listening to them, it’s impossible not to get caught up in the forceful harmony, with lyrics that sound like they are directed right at you.
“We want people to know they’re not alone in going through x, y or z,” says Ryan.
“I hate listening to songs without meaning,” adds Dan.
This search for meaning has kept them going through the ups and downs. Like any struggling band, they face obstacles: no manager. Nyelee happens to be in Ghana (Damn NyeLee, they say, with a headshake). Not to mention they lack a drummer, and are struggling to find their audience. But they have faith, and they have their own voice, remembering that most of their opportunities have fallen into their lap just when they needed it.
“We want to put a positive message out there,” says Dan. “There’s so much negativity, so much negative stuff in life, we want to put it in a positive way to help people.”
They cite Wasted Love as a good example of this. Like many of their songs, Wasted Love, is about the end of love:

“I almost gave it all away/To make you change your mind and stay/’Cause the world that is my life/Revolved around you.”

Though it’s a song about a break up, says Dan, there is a message not to lose heart and find inner strength.

“It’s about accepting something, even if you’re torn, and moving forward,” he says.

As for their own future, they hope to play more often (perhaps branching out from stairwells) and get their album together, which they have been recording. They recently sang at Bitter End in the West Village, and have over 100 songs recorded (enough to make four albums!) Until then, keep an eye on those street corners.
As they began to play a song off the album, Beautiful, even feisty Marlee rested his head on my knee and listened.

http://www.beggarsandscholars.com/

Intro

OK I made a blog. Now figuring how this thing works...