“What can be done in a hell? They sang. For where there is no more hope, song remains.”
~ Victor Hugo
I’ve been reading the unabridged Les Misérables for much longer than I care to admit. (It’s kind of a heavy book.) I recently put it on hold in order to read some borrowed books I must soon return. As nice as it is to enjoy something a little lighter, I can hardly wait to dive back into the tale of Jean Valjean.
Les Mis is a novel sparkling with literary gems, and one jumped out at me a few pages before I put down the novel. “Where there is no more hope, song remains.”
I sing a lot. Although I’m no great singer, I find it oddly therapeutic. I frequently sing at work when my coworkers are out of earshot, and lately I’ve been singing more than usual.
My job has seemed stressful and thankless in the past few weeks. (I am so, so thankful to begin a vacation in a few days!) Besides coffee, which is an ever present help in trouble, few things in my job have encouraged and cheered me more than song.
The phrase above from Lez Mizzy reminded me of how thankful I am for the gift of singing. When work seems hard, life seems dark, or the coffeepot runs dry, song remains. I’m thankful for it.
The ABRAA (Association of Blogs Run by Animal Assistants) has informed me and my typewriter monkeys that our blog will be shut down if we don’t feature more educational content. This scared me at first, but I’ve discovered an easy solution to appease the strict inquisitors of the ABRAA: I will let the Muppets do the educating for me. What could go wrong?
Today we’re learning to make popcorn shrimp, and also sweet music. Take notes.
The captions (accessible via the button marked CC on the video when viewed on YouTube) are probably my favorite thing about this video. The person transcribing the Swedish Chef’s gibberish gives up about a minute in and starts rambling about his job. It’s an extra layer of humor in an already delightful skit.
The Chef himself speaks hilariously like someone I know. I work in a group home for gentlemen with disabilities, and one of them mumbles in what I presume to be a fluent mixture of English, Swedish, and Ewok. I’ve gotten pretty good at deciphering his gibberish, but it’s taken a lot of practice.
I sure hope the ABRAA is satisfied by TMTF’s attempt at educating its readers… and that the Swedish Chef doesn’t give my pyromaniacal monkeys any ideas.
“Baba Yetu” is the theme of Civilization IV, a game I’ve never played in a series that has never interested me. I first heard this song when my older brother, who is definitely not a gamer, had me listen to it a few years ago.
The song is the Lord’s Prayer in Swahili, and it’s beautiful. This arrangement by Peter Hollens and Malukah, a couple of YouTube musicians, is fantastic. “Baba Yetu” made history a few years ago by being the first song written for a video game to win a Grammy.
I’ve heard enough 8-bit chiptunes and earsplitting dubstep in video games. What they need is more lovely gospel music!
I feel like I’ve posted a lot of Disney music lately, and all of it has been “Let It Go.” While it’s certainly a great song, “Let It Go” is hardly Disney’s best. Walt Disney Animation Studios has produced dozens of films, and some of them have really rocking soundtracks. Alan Menken, a longtime Disney composer, has won, like, eight Academy Awards.
Yes, Disney has some great music, and it’s time for TMTF to move the spotlight from “Let It Go” to the one Disney song I think we can all agree is the very best.
I speak, of course, of “I’ll Make a Man Out of You” from Mulan.
All right, maybe this song isn’t Disney’s absolute best, but it’s certainly my favorite. I loved it when I saw the movie as a kid, and I love it fifteen years later. I wasn’t planning on showcasing more Disney music on TMTF any time soon, but dang if this isn’t the most epic cover of a Disney song I’ve ever heard.
Disney’s Frozen came out last year, but the Internet continues to obsess over “Let It Go,” the film’s most catchy song. Heck, even TMTF jumped on the sleigh bandwagon. Most of these fads die out in a few weeks, but “Let It Go” continues to echo round the Internet.
I keep stumbling upon great arrangements of the song. In addition to the electronic version I shared last time, here are a couple more.
The video above is yet another lovely piece from The Piano Guys, who were last heard round these parts rocking “Pachelbel’s Canon.” I haven’t the faintest idea how they managed to get an entire freaking piano into that ice palace, nor how they filmed all those sweeping shots, and I don’t really care. This blend of “Let It Go” with Vivaldi’s “Winter” gives me chills. (Pun intended. I’m so, so sorry.)
If classical music isn’t your thing, here’s a Weird Al-style parody from the adorkable comedy duo Debs and Errol based on Star Trek: First Contact, my favorite Star Trek film. (Sorry, J.J.) I’m not really a Star Trek fan, but this video made me grin.
Weird Al himself was apparently thinking of doing a Star Trek parody of “Let It Go,” but Debs and Errol beat him to it.
Question: Do you have a favorite version of this song? Let us know in the comments!
I had something completely different planned for today’s Geeky Wednesday post, but then stumbled upon this video last night and realized I must share it. As a blogger, I accept this as my inexorable destiny.
Weird Al has released another album of parodies, including this glorious riff on “Blurred Lines.” It’s all about English grammar and spelling. What nobler subjects can there be for song lyrics? There are also a couple of off-color jokes, but I’ll let them slide this time because, in case I hadn’t mentioned it, this is a song about English grammar and spelling.
Weird Al Yankovic, bless him, has been writing music for decades. I grew up listening to his silly songs, and I’m glad he still doing his thing.
In case there is anyone left in the world who hasn’t seen it, here is the music video for “Fireflies” by Owl City.
I don’t even like music videos, but I’ll be the first to admit this one is magical. I suppose it’s because it doesn’t star sultry babes or angry guys with guitars, but a dusty bedroom full of toys from the eighties.
The cuts get pretty fast and furious toward the end, giving the song a sense of kaleidoscopic color and motion. I like the effect, though some viewers might echo the good folks at RiffTrax and say, “Geez, with the quick edits here, Michael Bay thinks this thing is overcut!”
Our culture is saturated with songs about partying, sex, romance, heartbreak, bitterness, rebellion and other exhausted subjects. I’m tired of modern music; even its new songs seem old. I appreciate artists like Weird Al Yankovic and Schmoyoho whose songs are wildly weird, and I’m even more thankful for artists like Owl City whose songs are serious without seeming tired or clichéd.
On a different note, I haven’t seen fireflies in ages. Where have they gone? They were everywhere at twilight when I visited Indiana as a kid. Have the fireflies, like Douglas Adams’s dolphins, abandoned Earth for a better place?
Disney released Frozen a number of months ago. It was, honestly, quite a good movie, but the film was largely eclipsed by one of its songs, “Let It Go.” There’s some truth in the joke about Frozen being the song’s feature-length music video.
I like “Let It Go.” It may be ridiculously overhyped, but the song is really quite a catchy one. The remix above is by far my favorite. “Let It Go,” a slow, melodic ballad, translates unexpectedly well to dubstep.
Despite its beautiful music, I find “Let It Go” bittersweet. The song is defiant, exalting rebellion and egoism, lifted up from a broken heart, reflecting a bitter moment. “I don’t care what they’re going to say,” sings Elsa. “Let the storm rage on! The cold never bothered me anyway.” She adds, “No right, no wrong, no rules for me. I’m free!”
I know people who live with that kind of selfish abandon. They’re some of the most miserable people I know. I think of them sometimes when I hear “Let It Go,” and my heart aches for them.
In the film, Elsa eventually finds a happy ending. (This is a Disney film, after all.) “Let It Go” reflects just one moment in her journey—a particularly selfish, defiant moment. The song’s pathos is touching, but it represents a horrible attitude toward life. It makes me sad that in a film celebrating loyalty and love—real love, “putting someone else’s needs before yours,” not Disney’s usual follow-your-heart nonsense—the thing most people latched onto was the song about selfishness.
“Let It Go” may represent a terrible philosophy, but it’s a great song. I particularly enjoy the remix above. Nothing brightens up a sad song like stuffing it with dubstep beats!
It’s time to set the record straight. “Puff the Magic Dragon,” unlike any given Beatles song, is not a veiled allusion to drugs.
The first song I remember ever hearing was “Lemon Tree” by Peter, Paul and Mary. Songs by this sixties folk trio have played in the background of my life from my earliest childhood on the coast of Ecuador to my high school years in the Andes mountains. I love their songs to this day. As much as I’ve come to enjoy other styles of music, from rock and ska to chiptunes and the odd spot of dubstep, I will always find Peter, Paul and Mary’s harmonies beautiful.
Peter, Paul and Mary are remembered for performing hits like “Blowin’ in the Wind,” “Leaving on a Jet Plane” and, perhaps most infamously, “Puff the Magic Dragon.” The lyrics of this last song tell of a boy and a dragon who enjoy merry adventures together. When the boy grows up, he abandons the dragon to grief and loneliness.
I suppose the boy’s odd adventures could be considered a metaphor for drug trips, and yes, the dragon’s name could be an obvious nod to smoking marijuana.
In the end, however, “Puff the Magic Dragon” was simply a poem by a college student about the passing of childhood. After the poet had gotten it out of his head, he forgot about it until Peter Yarrow (the Peter of Peter, Paul and Mary) turned it into a song and credited him with the lyrics.
So let it be known to all people that “Puff the Magic Dragon” has no meaning except the obvious one. Peter, Paul and Mary are acquitted. Case dismissed!
Geeky Wednesday posts on this blog generally feature a song, picture, video or literary excerpt. Today’s post is a little different.
This particular Geeky Wednesday features a video game. Most games are far too long for this blog, but this one can be completed in a couple of minutes. If you don’t want to play it, that’s fine; I’ll explain in just a moment why this weird, wonderful little game is significant.
If you’ve ever played a video game, spare a few minutes of your life and give You Have to Burn the Rope a try. The game’s controls are up arrow key to jump, down arrow key to throw axes and left and right arrow keys to move left and right, respectively. (As with YouTube videos, a brief ad may play before the game begins.)
You Have to Burn the Rope is a joke, a critique of the video game industry or an exercise in postmodernism. I’m honestly not sure which it is.
Right from the start, the game gives the player the following facts:
There’s a boss at the end of this tunnel
You can’t hurt him with your weapons
To kill him you have to burn the rope above
Thus the player proceeds along the tunnel and finds the game’s one and only boss, the Grinning Colossus. This towering enemy can’t be hurt by the player’s axes, leaving the player to snatch a torch from the wall and burn the rope above the boss. Burning the rope sends a chandelier crashing down upon the boss’s head… and that’s the game. You have burned the rope. The end.
As the credits roll, the player is rewarded extravagantly by this wonderful song.
“Congratulations!” exclaims the song. “You’re the hero we all wish we could be! You made it through the tunnel and grabbed that fire from the wall! You burned the rope and saved us all! Now you’re a hero! You managed to beat the whole damn game!”
The irony here is obvious. This short, easy game gives the player step-by-step instructions on how to overcome its only obstacle—heck, the game’s title gives away the only strategy needed to beat it—and then congratulates the player as though completing the game were an extreme challenge.
Since a friend of mine recommended You Have to Burn the Rope a long time ago, I’ve wondered what its developer is trying to say. Is the game an elaborate joke? Is it a protest of how modern video games are becoming too easy and rewarding players for negligible achievements? Is it a postmodern deconstruction of traditional video game design?
I don’t get it. All I know is that you have to burn the rope.
Typewriter Monkey Task Force 