Montana Senate Race, internet ads

It seems that almost anywhere the MH browser has gone over the past month, there was a good chance of encountering brash (dare we say “garish,”) ads attacking Congressman Rehberg, Sen. Jon Tester’s Republican challenger.

The wonders of the modern internet -- while to the younger generation, the technique might be “oh, so 40 seconds ago," to a less sophisticated observer, it seems that political campaigns have unfortunately discovered the clever software that detects the URL, localizes it to Montana, and inserts ads across a variety of platforms and websites. You know the type: “Hey Montana! Billings housewife learns to make $1432 a day working from home!” Or, “Hey Billings: plastic surgeons don’t want women to learn about this simple way to look 20 years younger!”

Slick use of technology, but one wonders if those responsible for the ads realize just how annoying these ads are to the user -- and whether they know that these kinds of crudely “personalized” ads are about as persuasive as are emails informing one of the opportunity to transfer $7 million from an abandoned Nigerian bank account.

We have long known that this U.S. Senate race (which could prove to be as decisive in determining control of that body as was Sen. Tester’s win-by-a-nose in 2006) would likely prove to be the most expensive and ugly in Montana history -- which is saying something. The two are pretty evenly matched -- Sen. Tester with the advantage of incumbency and the national fundraising it can tap into, Congressman Rehberg with 7 successful state-wide races under his belt in a GOP-leaning state.

But we have been used, heretofore, to having said unpleasantness played out in television ads, which are easy to mute or fast-forward through. Internet browsing has traditionally been less saturated with political ads, at least in Montana. No longer, it sadly seems. Good thing we have internet packages to watch professional basketball and baseball (spring training is underway!) -- which are as of yet blessedly free of most advertising.

So far, Sen. Tester appears to be leading Rep. Rehberg in the war to see who can have the least clever and most abrasive internet ad presence. One hopes that Sen. Tester will continue to press this “advantage” all the way through until the fall.

Film: John Carter

With the release by Disney of the movie “John Carter,” a new generation is being introduced to the particular joys of pulp fiction (the real thing, not the Quentin Tarantino version.)

Based on the Edgar Rice Burroughs novel “A Princess of Mars,” this film captures the spirit of the escapist boys’ stories that filled “the pulps,” cheap magazines of short stories and serialized novels that were radio, television, and movies all rolled into one at the turn of the 20th century. While these magazines had long died out by the time I started to read, novels that I enjoyed as a youngster had (unbeknownst to me) first appeared in pulp magazines, and certainly many of my favorite writers, from Louis L’Amour to H. Rider Haggard, got their start in the pulps.

Not being a big science fiction fan, my acquaintance with Burroughs himself was not with books like “Princess of Mars,” but rather with the more famous Tarzan novels that populated one of the shelves at the local library. After reading a half-dozen or so, one sort of got the idea and didn’t feel the urge to finish the next dozen, but even encountering them decades after they were first written, I found the books to be engaging, entertaining, and memorable -- especially when “Monsieur Tarzan” found himself in a real nightmare of a jungle -- like Paris.

Reading “Princess of Mars" after the fact, one is impressed that the filmmakers stayed quite close to the conventions of the original. There is the opening prologue that, while taking place in 19th century America, has an Old World patina. There is then a transition to the tale told in John Carter’s private journal, a journal that was bequeathed to his nephew -- Burroughs himself. The scene thus changes to the wild west of Arizona territory, from whence a former Confederate officer turned gold-prospector happens to be transported to Mars, where, really, the true cowboy story begins. Again, it is so commonplace for Hollywood to “improve upon” the structures of novels being adapted (and the older the book, the stronger seems to be the urge to rewrite it,) that these simple homages to a book that few viewers will have read are quite refreshing.

This is a movie that will probably enjoy only modest box-office success, but one suspects that it will wear well with time and will have considerable staying power on DVD and television. Dare one say it? Yes. A classic... of sorts. It is great fun, cutting loose with all of the over-the-top action and improbable plot-twists that the great pulp novels had. Most impressively, the production doesn’t attempt to make the story more weighty than the original was, nor does it wink at the audience, saying “yes, we know this is a B-movie, so we’re going to poke fun at it ourselves before you can.” Neither approach would have fit a Burroughs story like this. Also laudable is that while the special effects are fully state-of-the art, this film treats the “science” in Burroughs’s science fiction matter-of-factly, almost in passing. What is emphasized is the “fiction” part, just as was the case with the Burroughs novel.

A couple of posts ago, when discussing a performance of the Billings Symphony, I pointed out that musicality is sometimes highlighted by how well a simple piece is played. Likewise, good films meet their stories where they find them, and do them full justice within the technological capabilities of their time. There are many kinds of great stories, and great story-telling takes many forms. “John Carter” shows us how one particular kind of story can and should be told on film. Bravo to Andrew Stanton, who both directed the film and served as screenwriter. One hopes to see more.

About Town: Solas

Again, something I wanted to hear. Again, I was scheduled to be out of town -- on business this time. And again events beyond my control forced me to be back in Billings unexpectedly for the weekend.

My solace? Solas. Ever since hearing this fine Irish-American band on a Celtic music sampler CD back in the 90's, I have thought they were something special. The piece I first heard was "Crested Hens," a haunting, spare, and softly lilting tune that stretched the melodic boundaries of traditional Celtic music. Almost New Age-ish, but not quite... Tugs at parts of you that you forgot were there until gently reminded.

So, when scanning the Alberta Bair season, Solas was the first performance I marked on the calendar (only later to find that I had to be out of town that weekend.) As with most Celtic music concerts at the AB, I arrived to find a most pleasant gathering -- jackets, ties, and dresses here and there, cargo pants and flannel shirts (me and many others,) a good showing of Wranglers and cowboy hats... and everyone seemingly as relaxed and happy as if they had a couple good, relaxing drinks aboard. Which is of course possible. In short, I was reminded of why this particular ranch boy who also loves the arts finds Billings to be such a comfortable place to live.

Solas has been through a number of personnel changes over the years, but two founding members are still with the band -- multi-instrumentalist Seamus Egan and violinist Winifred Horan. The band members are Irish and American, to various extents -- Horan was born and raised in New York, Eagan was born in the US, but grew up in Ireland and has an accent to prove it. The rest were born in Ireland but are based out of the US now, hence allowing Solas to make a credible claim to be the most prominent Irish-American band on the Celtic music scene.

Regardless of geography or chauvinistic sensibilities, Solas is an exquisite acoustic band in the traditional music vein. They can spin off traditional jigs and reels with the best of them, but it is in their original material and adaptations that they shine, making use of modern chord progressions, unusual time signatures and bridges -- all very good stuff. Joining us was my 20-something son with musical tastes eclectic enough to encompass genuine passions for old-school jazz and West Coast hip-hop alike. He, too, was unexpectedly still in Billings, thanks to the happenstance breakdown of his truck that prevented his scheduled return to college. Last minute ticket purchasing was successful -- the house was almost sold out up through the loge, but thankfully there is still an occasional hesitancy in this town to sit in the front row. We therefore felt obliged to take a few seats up there.

A pleasant surprise was learning that this tour has a Montana connection. The historic center of Montana, Butte, hosted the National Folk Festival from 2008-2010, and while Solas was there performing, Seamus Eagan had the opportunity to explore an old family story of his great-great uncle who came to Butte to work in the mines at the turn of the last century. At the time when "no Irish need apply" was the rule elsewhere, Irish knew that if they could just get to Butte (no mean task in those days,) the legendary Marcus Daly (born in County Cavan,) had no such prejudices, and would give an Irishman a job. It being a very rough mining town that was dangerous for miners both above and below the surface, Eagan's relative unsurprisingly died a young, violent death.

Solas decided to explore the Irish-American experience in Butte with a combined recording and film project they have called "Shamrock City," and tonight's concert featured original music from the project. We greatly look forward to seeing and hearing the final project.

It is always a mark of confidence when a performer or band concentrates on their more recent material rather than just trotting out old favorites, and Solas did so tonight. Not only was there no “Crested Hens,” I was surprised that they didn't perform the one big hit co-written by Eagan -- "I Will Remember You," made famous when covered by Canadian Sarah McLachlan (another co-writer on the song.) It really wouldn't have fit into the set, and I respected the musicality they showed by leaving it out (assuming that Eagan still has rights to perform the song.)

Not much more to say than to congratulate the AB schedulers for getting Solas on the calendar, and to hope that they'll be back soon. All in all, a magical evening.

About town: Billings Symphony, Elgar, Butterworth, Beethoven

It is exceedingly hard to ruin George Butterworth's "The Banks of Green Willow," a paragon of that lovely turn-of the century British sound -- an idyll if there ever was one. Makes one want to drink tea with milk and nibble scones while watching Downton Abbey episodes.

Hard to ruin, but not impossible, and the Billings Symphony Orchestra's conductor, Anne Harrigan, gave it a shot. The ensemble's playing was passable, but seemed under-rehearsed -- we know they can play better than that. As happens too often, the conducting was exaggerated, which only served to highlight the lackluster sound of the orchestra, and the distraction from the podium threatened to deprive the audience of the soothing Butterworth experience (this was his one symphonic triumph -- don't ruin it for the poor guy!) When Harrigan is at her most controlling -- her micromanaging "best," entrances become tentative and the flow breaks down. It helps to close one's eyes. At times like this, one sometimes thinks that the orchestra would do better if it were simply given a downbeat by the concertmaster and just allowed to play. This muddle in the opening piece has often been a characteristic of the BSO's playing under Harrigan, where the orchestra often starts with something light and short, but which is then not played with the precision and sensitivity that even an "easy" piece deserves.

When it comes to the musicality of a performer, one can often learn as much by how he performs a simple work as by how he dashes out the scintillating virtuoso showcase piece. One's mind goes back to the performance with the BSO of Valentina Lititsa several years ago. She had filled the Alberta Bair with the lush sounds of Rachmaninov's 2nd, and encored with some fiendishly difficult Liszt piece or another. She graciously came back for a second encore and with a smile strolled out the opening 9 simple notes of Beethoven's "Für Elise," upon which there was an audible giggling from some quarters of the hall. It had to be a joke, you know -- a children's piece -- (I certainly hadn't played it since childhood, but thankfully was entranced enough by Lititsa's playing that chuckling never occurred to me.)

Paying the disturbance no mind, she simply and thoughtfully took the audience through the piece, neither trying to play it up by using a breakneck tempo (the fashion of concert pianists playing everything as fast as their God-given fingers can possibly go has never appealed to me -- what is bracing in NASCAR loses its thrill on the concert stage, where one would sometimes actually like to hear the individual notes of a run or the delicious harmonies of a chord long enough for them to register with the brain,) nor playing it with expression. It was rich in its directness, the rubato was subtle and just right, and the lesson learned by all was unmistakable: "Für Elise" is a gem. That is it beautiful is apparent when one's young niece is playing it at a recital -- that it is a work of a certain kind of brilliance can only be brought out by a master of the craft like Lititsa, who, it should be added, like a number of previous soloists with the BSO, has gone on to bigger and better things. We have, with pride, since seen her appear on season schedules with the Seattle and San Francisco Symphonies, and understand that she has made some prestigious appearances at points east as well. It's rather like the kind of satisfaction one gets when seeing a favorite minor league baseball player from the stands one summer, then seeing him on television the next year after he has made "The Show."

But back to the present, and to music. Another Beethoven was on offer tonight -- his triple concerto for Violin, Cello, and Piano. It was an interesting choice of work, since our own concertmaster Randy Tracy was featured on violin and our principal cellist, David Heinzen, played second base (the baseball analogies will be dropped now, promise.) The guest artist was Gustavo Romero on piano, and what made it all a bit odd is that the piano part is by far the easiest part of this triple concerto, mainly because it was written for a skilled amateur who was going to be flanked by a couple of pros. Tracy and Heinzen are fine players, and it was great to hear their talents highlighted, but they are not experienced soloists, and we might more have enjoyed hearing them take on something else.

String players are already at a disadvantage when it comes to intonation when sharing the stage with a piano (unless the piano tuner was particularly incompetent,) and putting our semi-pro guys on the hard parts while giving the visiting pro the easy parts only made the contrast sharper. How this concert was conceived is a bit of a mystery -- one possible clue was in the program notes, where we learn that Romero's specialty is to do the complete works of one composer or another. One wonders whether the conversation went a little like this:

"Mr. Romero, we'd like to have you come to Billings as a guest artist with our symphony."

"Billings, where's that?"

"Montana."

"That in America?"

"Yes, straight north of your home in Dallas -- just follow the Bozeman trail north and take a right half-way through Wyoming."

"OK, but here's the deal -- I, well, have this thing about being able to say I've performed the complete works of composers, and I still need to check off Beethoven's triple concerto. No-one else seems to want to do it -- cost of hiring three soloists and all that. Help me out and we've got a deal."

"Um, OK... you free February 25th?"

Just a thought I had while listening to the performance. One supposes that these days everyone has to have an angle, but things can get a bit strained when applying any sort of doctrine. I own a copy of Alfred Brendel's complete piano works of Beethoven, but how many times, really, is one going to listen through the whole thing?

One final note on Romero, who acquitted himself very well, playing with complete technical mastery and yet with the chamber music restraint that the piece required. This was the first time that I can recall a visiting soloist with the BSO not being brought back for an encore prior to the intermission. An understandable exception was this season's opening concert, when Harrigan wisely chose to have Inon Barnatan's performance of Brahm's massive 2nd Piano Concerto take up the entire final half of the program rather than to occupy the spot before the break. The performance was so satisfying that an encore would have been anti-climactic, almost sacrilegious. But on this evening, I have to confess to feeling as though we got short shrift. You get a pianist of modest national prominence to town, you'd like to get a little more for your money. Since Romero is doing Beethoven right now, would it really have killed him to come back out on stage to give us something simple like, well, I don't know... "Für Elise?"

Speaking of angles, what was with the title of this program, and why do programs need these titles anyway? "Musical Landscapes," Harrigan had entitled it. In one sense, every piece of music has or is a musical landscape, one supposes, but when the opening piece is "Banks of Green Willow," the brain looks for something a little more concrete to complete the thought, only to be frustrated. Beethoven's triple concerto is a fine enough piece, but it distinctly lacks anything "landscapey" -- even by Beethoven standards. And the title becomes even more odd when the final piece on the program is Edgar Elgar's "Enigma Variations," which are musical portraits, not musical landscapes. Just saying.

Lest the reader think otherwise when reading my above comments, the Butterworth and the Beethoven were both quite enjoyable. I had never heard the Butterworth performed live before, and I don't remember having heard the triple concerto at all before, even in a recording or broadcast. Hearing a piece for the first time is always an adventure, and hearing it performed live is an adventure all its own, even when the performances are not perfect. And while on the subject of first hearings, this was the first time "Green Willow" has been performed by the BSO, while the Beethoven had been done by the BSO in the mid-90's with the Guild Trio providing the solo work. The Elgar also was having its BSO debut tonight, which is surprising given its prominent place in the repertoire.

With the Enigma Variations, the joy of a first live listening was there in spades. I own a couple of recordings of the Variations, and listened to a marvelous live performance by the BBC Philharmonic on-line at the BBC Proms this past summer. It is a piece I thought I knew well, by a composer of whom I am particularly fond. And yet, in this performance by the BSO, it was a most fresh hearing of the piece. I noticed the theme in places I hadn't heard it before, the color and texture of the piece was just different, and it was more spatial somehow, which is often true with live performances, but not always.

It was clear that this was where Harrigan and the BSO had put their efforts in rehearsal. It was crisp and clean, Harrigan's conducting was less controlling and the entrances thus more natural and musical. In short, it was all I had hoped for and more when a snowstorm drove me back early to Billings from what was to be a weekend alone reading books and writing in front of the fire at the rural ancestral homestead. I took the impending storm as providential, since I was regretting missing this performance of the Elgar Variations. Part way through the first half of the concert, faith in Providence began to lag a bit, but by the end it was again a man of faith walking out the exit during the final, enthusiastic, and well-deserved ovation. Until, that is, passing through the lobby, he heard the odd sound of Harrigan reprising the final variation as an encore -- a musical practice (to my taste) analogous to being given a second helping of a dessert that had left one feeling just right at the end of a nice meal. The ending had been perfect. Sigh.

But to close the circle on this essay, some things really are difficult to ruin, and while a wave did crash against this fine performance of Elgar, at the end it stood firm in the mind as an evening to remember.

About Town: Step Afrika!

Well, the MH cultural correspondent didn't make it to Umphrey's McGee -- some mumbled nonsense about a long day at work and needing some rest. We had hoped for better.

Still, the month hasn't been a complete wash. Step Afrika! was in town tonight.

Aside: How exactly was the punctuation supposed to work in that last sentence? Maybe we should be Montana Headlines! if for no other reason than to confound critics who might want to quote us unflatteringly, but who would be stymied at trying to decide how to punctuate sentences like: "Montana Headlines! really outdid themselves (him/herself?) in publishing hopelessly silly drivel."

But we digress. MH has tended, over the years, to attend mostly Billings Symphony Orchestra concerts at the Alberta Bair (although this season it was hard to find any performances to get excited about attending, given the goofiness into which that organization's programming has descended... seriously...,) supplemented by other classical or traditional music concerts. But man cannot live by classical music alone, so off to the Alberta Bair to see Step Afrika! it was.

One of the most impressive feats of the performers was their ability to maintain their composure and good humor when attempting to get an audience that was 99.9% white (white with little or no personal exposure to black culture, no less) to do audience participation things that required rhythm. Really, if someone thinks that the opening scenes of the Steve Martin movie "The Jerk" are purely caricature, well, everyone is entitled to their little delusions. (Not a terribly funny movie, overall, it must be interjected.)

Actually, with patience and repetition, the performers actually did a pretty good job of getting the audience to clap, snap, shuffle, and exclaim things like "Hoo-ah" from the diaphragm in something that resembled rhythmic responses. Even more complex tasks like responding to the call of "alright!" with "OK!" and vice-versa began to be mastered toward the end. A couple of brave audience members who got up on stage to learn some rudimentary stepping even ended up playing bit parts in a Zulu village dance scene. We must confess to being jealous of the guy who got to carry a skin-covered Zulu shield and a tribal spear. One thought of asking if one could borrow it for Montana spear-hunting season, but then we recalled that unfortunately there isn't going to be one after all. Sometimes our politicians are so lacking in humor, a spirit of adventure, or both.

So, back to the performance. In a word, it was superb. Pace the name of the dance-troupe, stepping didn't begin as a distinct dance form in Africa, but rather in black fraternities and sororities in the early 20th century here in America. Like most American cultural currents, however, the roots are indeed from the old country, filtered through a century or more of the black American experience.

We recalled during the performance having read a grotesque Robert Ludlum novel called The Matlock Paper -- our 3rd and final try at another Robert Ludlum novel after having read and enjoyed The Bourne Identity. The Matlock Paper made a convincing case that Ludlum apparently only had the one good book in him (good as in a good airport or beach or ski-trip novel.) Anyway, in the book, a pretty caricatured black fraternity organization makes an appearance, and the white protagonist has the rare privilege (as we recall) of getting to see an initiation ceremony at the frat house. Ludlum's version had some dangerous use of spears or some other sharp weapons as part of the ritual, and thankfully nothing like that happened at the Alberta Bair. Of course, that Ludlum scene probably originated not in careful research, but rather in Ludlum's need to create some pulp excitement in a book that even he had to know was tedious enough to have airport readers reaching for a Barbara Cartland novel out of sheer desperation to escape boredom.

Where were we? Oh, yes. Black fraternities. One of the scenes in tonight's performance was a portrayal of the role of stepping in said fraternity ceremonies. Their version was far more artistic than we recall Ludlum's being. Another scene was a portrayal of stepping competitions that happen between fraternities and sororities. Tonight it was men vs. women -- we thought the men narrowly carried the day, but the audience called it a tie. But then, everyone is a winner these days, aren't they? Unless winners are being declared losers...

We've already mentioned the Zulu village scene. And then there was the South African miner scene, doing the gum-boot dance (See photo above,) done wearing "gum-boots" -- or what the Brits call "Wellies." We've liked Wellies ever since seeing Felicity Kendal in them in the old Good Neighbors episodes on PBS in our younger years. But one struggles to imagine even the lively Tom and Barbara
in that show being able to cut a rug in long rubber boots the way the Step Afrika! performers did in recreating this bit of South African culture.

Energy, style, considerable dance talent, a flair for cultural education and a little well-applied attitude -- all in all a great evening with a performing company that one hopes will swing through Billings again in the future.

Step Afrika!

Umphrey's McGee comes to Billings

Didn't think Billings would ever make the Umphrey's McGee circuit, but here they are, playing two nights from now at the Babcock. Montana Headlines may just have to send a cultural critic to the concert to see if they are all they're cracked up to be by jam band aficionados.

Any band that claims King Crimson, early Genesis, and Led Zeppelin as major influences is bound to be serious. Their approach to presenting their music -- few albums, lots of live shows, and encouraging people to record their music in concert and distribute it for free on the internet -- has been unique and for the most part brilliant.

They are doing pretty well for themselves, and while playing as many concerts as they do has to be hard work, it can't be a whole lot worse than slaving in the recording studio and kowtowing to record company executives.

Anyway, we're glad to see someone in Billings got us on the tour, and hope to be able to report on the concert. Oh, and for the record, as far as jam bands go, Umphrey's McGee is to the String Cheese Incident what Johnny Cash is to Kenny Rogers in the country music world. This observation is based on watching and listening to extended video of the concerts of each.

When they go into a "Jimmy Stewart," it takes improvisation to another level. One critic puts it well:

This is what, in essence, sets apart Umphrey's from the major jam bands who've come before them; those cues keep the players on the same page even as they're freely improvising, a clear distinction from the aimless hippie jams of old.

Time for an update

What a difference 2 years makes.

In our last post, Montana Headlines mused that "We're still making up our minds about Gov. Sarah Palin."

Well, that mind-making-upper process has finished, and the answer to the question of "whether Gov. Palin is the right person to spearhead the GOP's comeback 4 to 8 years from now" has been unequivocally answered to the satisfaction of Montana Headlines.

No.

The fundamental question, as noted in our last post more than two years ago was whether then Gov. Palin had "the intellectual chops" to cut it. As we noted then, by very definition, any conservative will be labeled by the opposition in the Democratic party and in the mainstream media as intellectually deficient. We conservatives are Neanderthals, knuckle-draggers, hicks, dolts -- go ahead and choose your label. The best that we can hope for is to be thought of as having a sort of perversely evil cleverness when we successfully advocate for ideas that are wrong (i.e. conservative.) And the only hope one has for being thought of in any other way by the left is to "evolve." That is to say, move left or at least to stop advocating for conservative postions with vigor.

So while the left has the luxury of saying, "see, we told you from the beginning that Palin didn't have it between the ears," we conservatives have to take the time to judge for ourselves and sort out those who are not intellectually up to the task of high-level political leadership from those who are.

Unfortunately, Sarah Palin falls into the former category. We say unfortunately, because of her many manifest talents (see John Sullivan's comments in the previous post.) But there it is.

So who can carry the banner forward? Certainly not Mitt Romney -- why waste e-ink listing the long list of reasons why even a limping Obama would mop up the floor with him. Mike Huckabee, about whom we have written positively in the past, probably can't do it either. Mitch Daniels? Doesn't seem to want it, and if one thing is necessary to get elected president, it is a primal drive to attain the office. Haley Barbour will run into the double prejudices against Southern accents and the girth police (Chris Christie's accent allows him to stay in the running.) Tim Pawlenty we like a lot -- but does he have the charisma that would be needed to unseat an incumbent?

One of two things will happen. The most likely is that Republicans will follow their old playbook and nominate the next guy in line -- Mitt Romney will go down in blazing defeat and join Bob Dole as a "well, of course he would lose" Republican candidate. To be fair to Republicans, our list of such candidates is much shorter than is the Democratic list of sure losers (Dukakis, Kerry, McGovern, Mondale...) An unresistable aside: If Romney had the financial resources of Huckabee, would he even be on anyone's radar? He has enough money to buy the Republican nomination, but unfortunately not enough to buy the presidency.

The other possibility is that someone will rise to the fore as an unexpectedly effective candidate and leader, and that a hungry Republican base will recognize this and nominate the guy (can't think of any likely women at this point.) An unlikely scenario? Of course. This is the Republican party after all.