Reach Out And Touch Faith

      Well, shocking as it may seem: this year Christmas was not horrible. Sure, most of the lead-up was, but thankfully this year a lot of the falsities were absent, and the mood in general was much more genial. So, all in all, I can't complain too much, especially since I spent much of the day watching television. Rewatching Miracle on 34th Street after so many years was genuinely refreshing, and it's amazing how well that film ages, because it didn't pander to the cloying tendencies of so many more typical Christmas movies. It's always fun watching Edmund Gwenn, still the perfect vision of Santa, and I was struck by how adorable Natalie Wood used to be as a child; she had that stern but flexible precociousness that makes the film ring entirely true. (I am, much as this may seem a surprise, not immune to good Christmas films, favourites of which include A Christmas Story, the Alistair Sim A Christmas Carol, and Bill Murray's hilarious but finally quite effective Scrooged). Call the experience restorative, in a way. After that: a long indulgence in the acquisition of Buffy the Vampire Season 3, a personal favourite season, mainly because of the presence of two favourite characters, the deliciously --and hilariously-- evil Mayor Wilkins (Harry Groener) and the lusciously villainous Faith (Eliza Dushku; oh, to reach out and touch... Never mind). Then a few hours for dinner with the extended family (long, but not excruciatingly long), and then a return home where, much to my own surprise, I managed to doze off in complete quiet and isolation. Quite nice, really.

      And I can't complain about my gifts this year which, contrary to my expectations based on experience, were thoughtful and appropriate: a new discman, the latest musical offerings from Johnny Cash and Norah Jones (which, for reasons I can't explain, I just never got around to buying), Finding Nemo on DVD, the typical assortment of clothes and candies and the like, and a lovely-looking chess set. So, all considered, very nice. I have Johnny playing as I write this, and American Recordings IV: The Man Comes Around (his last studio album per se) is a powerful and poignant album, and it truly does amaze me how well he can completely reinvent even the most disparate and otherwise identifiable songs with his own particular brand of stoic melancholy. Songs like "Bridge Over Troubled Water," "Hurt," "Personal Jesus" (of all songs!), "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face," "Danny Boy," and "Desperado" all seem more fitting to Cash's baritone than they did in the hands and voices of their predecessant recorders. Magnificent, and, at times, bone-chilling.

      It's also worth noting that I'm struck by a commonality in my own musical tastes: I'd rather spare the musical pyrotechnics and lavishments and focus on the capacity for evocation via musical simplicity-- the voices I most think about now being the likes of Cash and Jones and Van Morrison and Ray Charles, all of whom convey more with vocal nuance than most could convey by shouting from the rafters. Any musician who can work with the simple things can then make the more complicated arrangements more truly meaningful when the time comes. Spare me the techno and the hip-hop and the sick and sickening world of music-gone-Britney. Give me depth and sincerity and meaning, and junk the bells and whistles that do little more than (try to) mask insubstantiality. Norah Jones, by voice alone, is far sexier to me than Christina Aguilera ever will be, undergarment parade et al; a smouldering voice outsexes the desperate gynecological exhibitionism of a maturely-moribund, musically-monotonous marvel of media-manufactured menstrua. (After all, we all know, we'll hear something about these divas once every twenty-eight days whether we need to or not, so the cycle of self-promotion can begin again.) I have a sneaking suspicion that Christina's next album will come complete with stirrups and a speculum so you, too, can join in on the intrauterine examination. The upside to this, though, is that perhaps then we'll find out where Osama Bin Laden has been hiding all this time. This article, by the way, is deeply disturbing.

      Anyway, I hope everyone reading me here had a good day yesterday. Zozo, if you see this in time, I'll ring you up later today. As for anyone else attending upon an email from me, all I can say is, forgive me, I'll get to you as soon as I can. Cheers and best, tout le monde.