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Tuesday, June 24, 2008
It would seem to be a natural given that horror fans would love Oingo Boingo, but sadly, it's all too often not the case. Despite complex orchestrations, beautiful melodies and a dark slant to most of their music, I've noticed a lot of negativity toward the band. I think I know part of the reason why that is.
Many critics savaged Boingo from from the start. Why? Gee, could it be a scathing song about rock journalists called Imposter, from their first album? Take a listen. I've always loved Imposter, partially because it's a kick ass tune and partially because I've always hated rock journalists. Nearly all of them, anyway. No doubt they had their little feelings hurt by the song and they got their revenge the best they could. Not that it deterred Danny Elfman's career a bit.
Sadly, those pathetic bastards have more sway than they deserve and whether they'd admit it or not, the massive bad press about Oingo Boingo affected a lot of people's opinions.
Oingo Boingo started out as The Mystic Knights of the Oingo Boingo and they were a musical/theatrical group. Their deranged show contained elements of cabaret, Dadaism, Cab Callaway and other forms of barely-controlled insanity. The troupe was led by Richard Elfman, who became more interested in film. This led to the delirious Forbidden Zone, a black and white mindfuck of an acid trip film that defies description.
With Richard Elfman off in a different direction, the leadership of the band fell to brother Danny. Danny Elfman decided to go into a more traditional musical form and turn the band into a ska group. The name was shortened to merely Oingo Boingo and they went on to have a very successful run.
Most know Oingo Boingo from their appearance in the hilarious Rodney Dangerfield movie, Back to School. Boingo played what became their signature piece, Dead Man's Party, in it.
Danny's fascination with the macabre bled into his songwriting and many of the songs dealt with mortality, yet never seemed to be morbid. The message was to enjoy, dance and party while you're still here, because death was eventually waiting for us all.
The band enjoyed several years of sold-out shows and popular songs, but as their sound began to change, Oingo Boingo lost a lot of their audience. 1990's Dark at the End of the Tunnel was more introspective and melodic and featured less ska-influenced party music. I personally felt that it was their finest work up to that point.
Danny Elfman's symphonic arrangements were naturally suited to the movies and Tim Burton approached him to score his first film, Pee Wee's Big Adventure. This successful collaboration led to a long and fruitful relationship between the two oddball personalities. Beetlejuice came after Pee Wee's Big Adventure and it was even more of a success. But it was with 1989's Batman that Elfman and Burton really hit it big. The movie was huge and the music of Danny Elfman has been in constant demand ever since then. But it was not without controversy.
A music professor named Micah Rubenstein wrote an outraged letter to Keyboard Magazine in response to an interview with Elfman, accusing him of 'glorifying musical ignorance'. Elfman's incensed rebuttal is printed in its entirety here.
I've heard people say that "all of Danny Elfman's film scores sound the same", which is completely wrong. Yes, he often uses a signature sound, especially in the comic book movies he scores, but Dead Presidents sounds nothing like Freeway. Which sounds absolutely nothing like the music for Planet of the Apes.Elfman's theremin-heavy SF music for Mars Attacks! bears no resemblance to the sound of Big Fish. You get the picture.
I was a huge Oingo Boingo fan in the early-mid 90's, just in time for the final rock album by the band. This time the album was simply called Boingo and it is arguably the best thing they ever did. I also think it's one of the best albums I've ever heard, period. Sadly, too few people have listened to it. Gone (well, mostly) is the horn section and in place there is extra guitar work courtesy of Vandals player, Warren Fitzgerald. He, along with Steve Bartek and Danny Elfman, play densely layered work that is almost an orchestration of guitars. And Danny Elfman's songwriting has never been richer or more powerful than on Boingo.
In 1995, Danny Elfman announced the retirement of Oingo Boingo. Their final performance would be their annual Halloween show, which took place at the Universal Amphitheater. The show was captured on both audio CD and DVD. It remains, along with Talking Heads' brilliant Stop Making Sense, the best concert film I've ever seen.
Unlike many other recording acts, Oingo Boingo's retirement seems to be genuine. I guess with the kind of money Danny makes with movie soundtracks, he can afford to hang up the touring. But he says that he has permanent hearing damage from playing with the band and that he will never do so again.
Danny Elfman had this to say about it: Quite simply... the time was right. After 17 years together, it finally occurred to me that we had survived about 16 years longer than I had expected... pretty good by any standards I think. It's been good, crazy times, and I'm always amazed how loyal our fans have been, but I think it's better to let things go before they turn sour. Also, scientifically speaking, modern research has recently proven that after a band has been together longer than a decade, the risk of the dinosaur factor kicking in increases exponentially each year thereafter. In short, it's been fun. Adios Amigos.
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Monday, June 16, 2008
I miss Andy Sidaris. He was no great filmmaker, but he always gave his fans what they paid to see. It was The Triple B Pledge: Bullets, Bombs and Babes.
Andy Sidaris got his start in the world of televised sports. He was the first directer of ABC's Wide World of Sports and he directed countless professional games before he began making feature motion pictures. The Sidaris Formula consisted of having various Playboy Playmates involved in some kind of international crime caper. Think Charlie's Angels with a lot more skin. They were generally shot in Hawaii.
I had never heard of Andy or his movies. Until one night on Joe Bob Briggs' Drive-In Theater. My God, those were the days. I'd watch JBB every Saturday Night and he showed some great films. As well as many not-so-great ones. The films of Andy Sidaris fell somewhere in the middle. They were slick enough, as he had more than ample experience behind the camera. He directed as well as wrote many of them and, trust me, he was no Mamet. But he managed to get the story across. And you didn't have to worry about a whole lot of plot to get in the way of the skin and the explosions. Sidaris knew what his audiences wanted and he gave it to them.
The first I saw was Hard Ticket to Hawaii and I later saw Malibu Express, Hard Hunted, Savage Beach and Picasso Trigger. These movies were late night cable TV staples in the 80's and 90's. For all I know they still are.
Andy Sidaris died in March 2007, of throat cancer. His career was successful by any standard. He learned the ropes in the industry and went on to write and direct 12 money-making pictures.
It hardly seems like Summer without Andy Sidaris around anymore.
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Wednesday, June 04, 2008
I've never been much of a man of faith. You can call me cynical or possibly pessimistic. I've never believed in the pot at the end of the rainbow. Some of my earliest recollections involve me thinking that the idea of God would be a great thing, but the logistics of it prevented me from buying it. I've gone from outright atheist to possibly agnostic to I-don't-know-what-to-think.
The older you get, the more you tend to question your convictions, I think. Especially if those convictions are fatalistic.
I put a lot of stock in dreams. I am a person that dreams a lot and often they have a lot of personal meaning to me. My brother died a couple of years ago and a week doesn't go by without me having a dream with him in it. Often the dreams are painful, but sometimes they are joyous. Once I dreamed of Heaven.
This was a number of years ago. Maybe three, but possibly four. I didn't keep track of the actual date, but I've never forgotten this vivid dream.
In it, I found myself walking in an enormous mansion. It was huge and it had inner walls, but no outside walls that I could see. So I could see for a long, long way. In the dream I was younger than I was at the time I had it. I was lighter and my knees didn't hurt.
Everywhere I looked I saw knots of people. In crowds and seated at tables. There were so many things going on--plays, films, musical acts. More than I could take in. On and on, up to and past the horizon of the beautiful day that was outside.
I walked along this mansion, seeing wonders. I remember stopping in front of a puppet show that a half a dozen or so people were watching. In was funny, but not my particular thing. Walking on, I came to an area where there were displays of food behind glass. It was the best-looking food I had ever seen and there was an immaculately dressed man there serving it. As always I was worried about whether I could afford anything and I asked the man about prices. The well-dressed man smiled and said, "There's no charge sir. There's never a charge". I didn't feel hungry, but I knew that I would enjoy some of that food. But I chose to wait. There was too much to see and time later to sample things.
Walking on, I turned a corner and went outside the building and on the side of it I saw my wife, Tanya. She looked more beautiful than ever; young, fit, healthy and beaming. We didn't speak, but joined arms and she walked with me. There were people everywhere, most of whom I didn't know. Even though, in a strange way, I felt like I did know them. Everyone smiled and I could feel an overwhelming warmth coming from everywhere.
We came to an area where there were picnic tables and I saw all my old friends at one. They were all laughing and very happy. I felt that all of the things that drove most of us apart were silly and petty. Ridiculous that we had let such small matters ruin the close bond that so many of us had had. I almost joined them, but I thought, Not yet.
At another large table not so far away was a group of people I know from the horror fiction community. Again, everyone seemed happy and warm. Some saw me and waved us over, but I only smiled and waved, giving a gesture that I would be there with them soon. I felt no urgency. Time. Plenty of it. There was so much to see. New friends to make and wonders to marvel at.
One thing that was certain to me, and this seemed very important in the dream. This large gathering had started at exactly the same time for everyone. No one had to wait to see anyone. We were all there together, almost as if we had always been together.
The main feeling I felt from within and from everyone else was enormous relief. It was all over: the worry, the pain, the suffering, the uncertainty. We had made it and everything that had happened to us before was important to the people that were now were. The experiences, the good and the bad, made us what we were.
This is 100% true. I'm not making up or exaggerating a bit of it.
I've thought about this dream a lot over the past few years and I've been thinking about it a lot more lately. I have a birthday this month and I've reached an age where birthdays are no longer a joy, but a reminder of my dwindling mortality. Was this dream a nocturnal form of wishful thinking? Was it a message from my soul? Do we even have souls? Was it a memory of the consciousness from before my birth and a premonition of after my death?
When I visited my brother, dying of cancer, the last thing he said to me was, "I'll see you".
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