Here's something you might be interested in.
Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed
Big Screen — Movie commentary
Blurt — Music's inside track
Booze News — San Diego spirits
Classical Music — Immortal beauty
Classifieds — Free and easy
Cover Stories — Front-page features
Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes
Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts
Feast! — Food & drink reviews
Feature Stories — Local news & stories
Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore
From the Archives — Spotlight on the past
Golden Dreams — Talk of the town
The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it
Letters — Our inbox
Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites
Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans
Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists
Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news
News Ticker — News & politics
Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated
Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna
Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated
Poetry — The old and the new
Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers
Reading — The hunt for intellectuals
Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails
San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds
SD on the QT — Almost factual news
Sheep and Goats — Places of worship
Special Issues — The best of
Street Style — San Diego streets have style
Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves
Theater — On stage in San Diego this week
Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative
Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work
Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego
Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads
Your Week — Daily event picks
I'd like to buy the world a stout
...or send you to Once
Arrive early: the cast of Once performs an informal concert before act one begins.
Drink a few pints in a Dublin pub, and there’s a better than even chance you’ll be asked to sing. Drink a fourth and you’ll probably comply. As if there weren’t enough of a musical flourish to Gaelic-inflected English, the people of Ireland hold music so dear that a jukebox will not do when a singalong can be had instead.
When it happens, hearts will open up to one another, and with greater ease than can be managed by ale alone. It’s as though singing together (really, playing music of any kind together) creates a bonding vulnerability between people. Even a straggling American, nary familiar with the concept of good craic, might feel as though it’s a night out with old friends rather than an encounter with a group of Irish strangers, brought together by chance, alcohol, fair weather, and a smoking patio.
Lovers, like artists, are engaged in the act of creation when they build a relationship. And bandmates often bond in similar ways. Making music together can accelerate an emotional connection comparable to the early stages of fledgling romance. In either case, you try to find a shared history, and a shared vision of the future, to agree upon. You find a mutual understanding how to get there, even though it sometimes takes an argument, a staking of boundaries, a hashing out of differences. In either case, you need to find that balance between losing yourself in the relationship, and maintaining your individuality.
With music, it’s not sexual, but it is personal. And when it’s not, the audience can tell. Whether in the creation or performance of music, a player must fully commit for it to be it any good. And so it goes with a relationship. If rock music is a collaborative medium, then so is love.
Of course the comparison ends at the number of people each activity can include. Love peaks when there are only two people involved. A third and fourth serve only to complicate things, and hundreds of plays have been written to illustrate the point. But not so with music. The more musicians, the more sublime the music may become. And when the audience feels those musicians’ souls channeled through a piece of music, claps to the rhythm or sings along to the words, that’s all the proof I personally need that there’s still magic on this Earth.
I suppose what I’m saying, is I’d like to buy the world a stout, and teach the world to sing. Or, send you to Once, the musical stage version of the 2006 Irish indie film, which plays at Lamb’s Players Theatre until August 12th.
Here's something you might be interested in.
I'd like to buy the world a stout
...or send you to Once
I'd like to buy the world a stout
...or send you to Once
Arrive early: the cast of Once performs an informal concert before act one begins.
Drink a few pints in a Dublin pub, and there’s a better than even chance you’ll be asked to sing. Drink a fourth and you’ll probably comply. As if there weren’t enough of a musical flourish to Gaelic-inflected English, the people of Ireland hold music so dear that a jukebox will not do when a singalong can be had instead.
When it happens, hearts will open up to one another, and with greater ease than can be managed by ale alone. It’s as though singing together (really, playing music of any kind together) creates a bonding vulnerability between people. Even a straggling American, nary familiar with the concept of good craic, might feel as though it’s a night out with old friends rather than an encounter with a group of Irish strangers, brought together by chance, alcohol, fair weather, and a smoking patio.
Lovers, like artists, are engaged in the act of creation when they build a relationship. And bandmates often bond in similar ways. Making music together can accelerate an emotional connection comparable to the early stages of fledgling romance. In either case, you try to find a shared history, and a shared vision of the future, to agree upon. You find a mutual understanding how to get there, even though it sometimes takes an argument, a staking of boundaries, a hashing out of differences. In either case, you need to find that balance between losing yourself in the relationship, and maintaining your individuality.
With music, it’s not sexual, but it is personal. And when it’s not, the audience can tell. Whether in the creation or performance of music, a player must fully commit for it to be it any good. And so it goes with a relationship. If rock music is a collaborative medium, then so is love.
Of course the comparison ends at the number of people each activity can include. Love peaks when there are only two people involved. A third and fourth serve only to complicate things, and hundreds of plays have been written to illustrate the point. But not so with music. The more musicians, the more sublime the music may become. And when the audience feels those musicians’ souls channeled through a piece of music, claps to the rhythm or sings along to the words, that’s all the proof I personally need that there’s still magic on this Earth.
I suppose what I’m saying, is I’d like to buy the world a stout, and teach the world to sing. Or, send you to Once, the musical stage version of the 2006 Irish indie film, which plays at Lamb’s Players Theatre until August 12th.
Comments