Michael Jackson: 1958–2009

When I heard the news, I was in the S&V sound room listening to (wait for it) "Shine On You Crazy Diamond." True! Specifically, when my mother called (a true rocker, she), I had just heard "Shine . . . Part VII," which ends with these lines:

Come on you boy child,
You winner and loser,
Come on you miner for truth and delusion, and shine!

After getting the news . . . what else could I do but press Play again? In came "Part VIII," where the funk meets the Floyd. It was almost as if the Ghost of Pop had entered the listening room and melded with the music.

Then, of course, came the concluding "Part IX" — which, according to David Gilmour, is "a slow 4/4 funeral march . . . the parting musical eulogy to Syd."

You can't make this stuff up.

(Why was I listening to "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" anyway? Well, an acquaintance had given me a DVD-Audio burn of the old quadraphonic mix of Wish You Were Here, now in 4.1. But that's a story for another time.)

Back to Michael Jackson . . .

Waxing rhapsodic on Maurice Jarre

You may have read that film composer Maurice Jarre died last Saturday at the age of 84. Among his many accomplishments, Jarre won the Oscar for Best Score for three David Lean landmarks: Lawrence of Arabia, Doctor Zhivago (with its distinctive "Lara's Theme"), and A Passage to India. (Note: Although new DVD editions of Lawrence and India were released last year, only India is available on Blu-ray Disc — where the music does indeed shine. See review.)

But I'm not here to talk about Jarre's work per se. I'm here to alert you to Verlyn Klinkenborg's remarkable "Editorial Appreciation" that appeared on Tuesday in The New York Times. I'm not going to reprint the whole thing here. After all, let's help keep the Times alive, folks! So if you want the full Appreciation and the paper's Jarre obituary, click on those links. I must, however, quote Verlyn's final paragraph:

"I cannot assess the professional significance of his movie music. But then, I don’t need to. All I have to do is listen to how one score of his after another opens a forgotten door in my life. We sit in the movies, and though we hear the music of the films we’re watching, we do not seem to be listening to it. Only later do we realize that it has saturated us."

That should strike a chord deep inside you, whether your predilection is for music that's contrapuntal or punk.

— Ken Richardson

Natasha Richardson: A Class Act

By now, you’ve heard about the sudden death of actress Natasha Richardson. I wrote about her and husband Liam Neeson’s home theater for the January ’09 issue (“A Class Act”; see story), and I wanted to share a few thoughts about her:

The first time I met Natasha, we’d barely said hello before she grabbed my arm and, smiling, leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “Pretend you’ve known me for 15 years and we’re best friends.” With that, she led me into the next room — and up to a group of strangers — for some impromptu playacting. If anybody else had made that request, I would have immediately headed for the hills. But there was something so infectious about the impish way she let me in on her little joke that it was impossible to say no.

Natasha was, without a doubt, the most charming and gracious person I’ve ever met. Her heart-melting smile and brilliant, inquisitive eyes could make you feel like your every word was sheer genius, even when you knew you were spouting nothing but drivel.

And you couldn’t help but envy her marriage to Liam Neeson. Their radically dissimilar backgrounds would seem to have allowed for little common ground, and yet they couldn’t have been more perfectly matched. The life they created for themselves on their upstate New York farm was a seemingly effortless extension of their extraordinary relationship.

So, to suddenly lose Natasha is devastating. I’ve encountered very few people who had her ability to relish every moment she was given. She first appears in “A Class Act” entering “briskly” from outside, and her energy did seem boundless, much of it selflessly devoted to the comfort of her husband, family, friends, and guests.

It was exactly because other people were so important to her that she wanted a big, inviting home theater. And rather than just hand the job off to a designer, she involved herself in every step of the planning and execution. (One of her requirements, she told me with a girlish laugh, was that every screening begin with the THX trailer. “You know,” she said, sweeping her arms upward with a flourish, “the one with that tremendous ‘whoosh!’”) Once the theater was done, she was thrilled with how it turned out and loved to show it off to everybody who entered that room.

It’s impossible for me to believe that someone that undeniably present and engaged — that alive — could suddenly be gone forever. I feel immeasurably lucky for having had the opportunity to know her.

— Michael Gaughn

Everyone at Sound & Vision is deeply saddened by this terrible loss, and we would like to send our condolences to the Richardson and Neeson families.

Pylon's Randy Bewley: R.I.P.

"Randy who?" I can't blame you for asking. Randy Bewley was the guitarist for the legendary Georgia band Pylon. In the photo above, that's Randy to the left, playing at Hurrah's in 1979.

Pylon? "Legendary"? Yes, to wit:

"To me, Pylon was the best band to ever come out of Athens. It still is.” That's a comment yesterday from Fred Schneider of the B-52's.

"Pylon have always been an inspired catalyst to R.E.M. and the Athens music-and-art scene, and beyond. Randy’s guitar playing and attitude were intensely unique, and his influence integral and profound. We are so very saddened to hear the news of Randy’s passing. He will be greatly missed.” That's a statement yesterday from Michael Stipe.

And as Schneider added: "I'm in complete shock."

As are all of us Pylon fans, after hearing the news that Randy died on Wednesday at the age of 53. Two days earlier, he had suffered a heart attack while driving in Athens; his van went off the road and tipped over. It's unclear at this time whether the sole cause of death was heart-related, or whether the van accident contributed to it. But according to a Wikipedia entry, he was taken to Athens Regional Medical Center on Monday, where he lapsed into a coma. Then, yesterday, he was taken off life support at the hospital's cardiac intensive-care unit. One of his bandmates, singer Vanessa Hay, is a nurse at the hospital.

Why should we care?

Remembering Buddy

We've just gotten word that a distant member of the Sound & Vision family passed on a couple weeks ago. He was the closest thing we had to a mascot and supermodel, and he was a real good sport: Buddy Butterworth, the Yellow Labrador Retriever.