Concerts For Geeks

Holy crap, that was FUN.

Last night we went to “Video Games Live” a big concert that performs selected tunes from games both past and present. We’d previously been to a much more modest performance in Singapore put out by an Australian group, but this one was epic in scope.

It also helped that this was a North American audience, not a subdued Southeast Asian one, so the house nearly came down when One Winged Angel, aka, “The Final Fantasy VII villain theme” started up as an encore and screaming and cheering went beyond all reason. Of particular note was the amazing 21st century way they audience clamored for said encore; waving their Nintendo DSes, PSPs, and cellular phones in the air, as a post-modern take on the traditional waving of lighters.

I have to admit, I enjoyed this. A LOT. This is probably the only time you will ever have kids willingly pay money to attend a concert performed by classical musicians. I actually got chills down my spine hearing some of these tunes roaring out of the accomplished ministrations of some Toronto Symphony Orchestra alumni. God of War was as bad-ass/majestic as ever, but the show-stopper for me would have to be the theme for Metal Gear Solid. That’s always been an incredibly powerful piece of music, and with a full orchestra and choir blasting it out into Massey Hall was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. It helped immensely that for this younger, ADD-plagued audience, they had a freakin’ huge screen that showed snippets of game play from the games that the music originated from (except for Squenix games, because for some reason, Squenix forbade the use of game imagery). It also helped that they it wasn’t a pure performance of music. Tommy Tallarico, himself a game composer, mixed it up with things like gaming face-offs from people randomly picked from the audience, as well as the inevitable cos-play “cheer for your favorite” selection process.

For a performance that was done almost entirely by a traditional orchestra and choir, they sure managed to keep the whole night ridiculously geeky and hip…

The First Halloween

The Wife made this. She’s done Halloween pictures before, but this was the first time she actually got a chance to do one in a country where it was legitimately celebrated. In Singapore, Halloween is usually just hunting/drinking season. The foreigners use it as an excuse to get hammered, and the slinky Asian girls dress up in borderline inappropriate sultry costumes so they can bag said drunk foreigner and get that relationship/passport to another country.

So this time we waited until evening drew on and then around 7:30ish or so, we wandered up and down the side-streets of our neighborhood. Plenty of Jack O’ Lanterns lit up, cobwebs scattered around, and, of course, a lot of kids. It was a bit of faux-nostalgia for the Wife since seeing those kids running in their costumes made her remember all the times growing up in Singapore when she wished she could have done the same, and now it’s too late.

Or at least, she thinks it’s too late. I told her if she wanted, we could probably hit up a house or two and plead the “She’s an immigrant this her first Halloween, please ruin her teeth and give her some candy” clause, but she wouldn’t go for it, she was too embarrassed at the thought. Still, it was nice to get out there and see the night play out the way I remembered it. I even saw one kid in a full Spider-Man outfit go whizzing past on his skateboard, and then spectacularly fail to ollie from the road the sidewalk. So much for those arachnid-like reflexes…

In other totally unrelated news, my mania for Rock Band continues as game reviewers with established magazines and websites begin to get their review copies. The guy who runs Kotaku got his kid to pose with the box, emphasizing how huge it is:

And over at WIRED Magazine, they also did the traditional Geek “Unboxing Ceremony” of taking copious photos of the experience, and they have a comparison of the Rock Band box to the Guitar Hero II box for the Xbox 360:

It is a beast of a box. A beast of Rock, but a beast nonetheless. I’m starting to wonder now if something that damn big is going to fit in the overhead luggage compartment of a plane…

Day O’ Oriental Prints

We’re actually getting pretty good at this Waking Up Before Sunset stuff now. But then today was particularly important for the Wife in that there was a gallery she really, REALLY wanted to visit, and they closed at 6:00 pm. The place is called, simply, Stuart Jackson Gallery, and is run by… Stuart Jackson. The reason the Wife wanted to visit was because she started up work on writing a tutorial article for a digital art magazine, with the subject being simulating the look of classic, Japanese woodblock prints. In her research, she found out that this particular gallery actually specialized in in nothing but, and she has a real soft spot in her heart for exactly this kind of art, but had never, ever seen a real one, only pictures in books and on the internet.

So you can imagine the squeals of delight that ensued when she realized that not only was there a gallery in her new home, it was a mere 20 minute stroll away, buried deep in the shissy bowels of Yorkville, past the numerous sushi restaurants and dog grooming services that charged more for a poodle styling than our entire income for 6 months totaled. Stuart Jackson himself ended up being a friendly, very knowledgeable guy who was extremely happy to spend some time with us, showing us the prints, explaining the techniques, the history, the styles and pretty much every other question the Wife had, so she was EXTREMELY happy with the whole experience. Prices on these prints varied from a hundred or so dollars to over ten thousand, depending on things like size, quality, condition and rarity. I have a feeling that we’re eventually going to end up with a few of those prints hanging off the wall at some point, but they are admittedly gorgeous, and when you see how much talent and craftsmanship is put into them–and then realize this is a dead art form that even modern Japanese print block experts can’t replicate today–it sort of makes it easier to justify the cost of these things. Or maybe I’m just being an illiterate dunderhead, because it somehow is easier for me to see paying money for something that is readily recognizable upon viewing, that shows an immense amount of obvious skill, and is something that is not easily replicated today. As opposed to something that can be done in three minutes by simply throwing paint on a wall and declaring it a bold criticism of today’s ennui and post-modern obsessed society, that’ll be $65,000 please and thank you for supporting the arts, buh-bye.

On the Rock Band side of things (yes, my anticipation just grows and grows with each passing day), an image has finally been released of the actual, physical box this behemoth game will be released in. You can click on the image to get a bigger look at it. It should probably come as a surprise to NO ONE at this point that I’ve pretty much caved and decided I can’t take a chance on patiently waiting for the Canadian release date, since it could be anywhere from a week to four months later. I’m weak. I need to RAWK. I can admit this. I will be getting the game while visiting the In-Laws in the USA and have made peace with this decision.

Scott McCloud

So today was the day.

We tromped on down early in the evening to the OISE building (just across the street from the Royal Ontario Museum) and settled down to listen to Scott McCloud talk about comics.

First however came an impressive presentation from his daughter, Sky, in the eighth grade. She was frighteningly articulate and media savvy and I really fear for her workplace when she enters the world of gainful employment, she’s a Ball o’ Fire. Mostly she just talked about the genesis of the “Making Comics 50 State Tour,” but it was obvious right from the start that this particular junior high student was an old hand at talking to hundreds of people and keeping them entertained. The only thing I ever did that involved public speaking at the age of 14 was alienating my entire junior highschool by accusing them of voting for Student Council President based on who was the most entertaining. As you can imagine, that didn’t go over so well.

When the Senior McCloud finally took the stage, it was a kind of surreal experience, not because I was particularly star-struck or anything (while I have a great deal of respect and admiration for Scott McCloud he doesn’t make me go weak in the knees the way Neil-O did) so much as it was jut bizarre having someone thoughtful, witty, engaging and articulate… talking about comics. In a thoughtful, witty, engaging and articulate way.

For the most part, the talk was cribbed straight from his latest book Making Comics. His first book Understanding Comics was essentially Comic Critical Theory. His second book, Reinventing Comics brought comics into the 21st century by discussing the impact that the digital revolution was having on what was traditionally a print medium. His third book, the one that is the subject of this tour, is about Applied Comic Theory, in that this one actually talks about the mechanics–and consequences thereof–of framing, time, panel construction, characterization, dialog and writing in general and all that other good stuff that actually goes into taking an idea from your head to something that people actually read.

Of particular interest to me was something that he talked about which I have always discussed with other people, but which McCloud has distilled into a much friendlier, more digestible version. He talks about how comics are essentially created from five choices; choice of moment, choice of frame, choice of image, choice of words and choice of flow. It’s really quite straight forward when you break it down like that. Choice of moment is about which parts of your story you decide to cover. Unlike film where you can show a simple action like a guy starting a car in one continuous shot, comics must choose which moments are worth presenting, if any at all. Choice of frame is about the angle you pick, the distance from the “camera” and such. Choice of image is a bit misleading in that he seemed to be more covering the specific STYLE here. Photo-realistic, or stylized? Black & white or color? Choice of words is obviously how much writing actually appears as words versus how much as image. A good example of how redundant this can be would be an example he uses of a hero jabbing his finger at the camera with spectacular Kirby-esque foreshortening that completey undercuts itself with the caption, “And then he jabbed his finger and said…” and the word balloon “I JAB MY FINGER AT YOU!”

Choice of flow is the issue of pacing. Should the story be told sequentially from moment to moment? Do you throw in flash backs? Do you leap forward in time? Do you break up action moments suddenly with a voice over that analyzes character motivations that lead to this explosive moment? All of these can work quite well, given the proper application and an understanding of how this moves–or impedes–the story.

He also gave an interesting analysis of his take on the state of comics globally, particularly in the 80′s before the internet started homogenizing everything. He noted, for example, that the European tradition, particularly the Franco-Belgian schools that had produced icons like Herge (of Tin Tin fame) or Moebius (The Airtight Garage) had a dominant characteristic of being much at ease with “world building” in that often, the environments and the culture and setting were as important to the comic as the story that took place. He showed a few panels from various comics showing the intricate detail, how bicycle fender or car had just as much attention paid to it as the hero.

The Japanese manga scene–aside from its obvious stylistic difference–played much more with contrasts and slower pacing. He showed how the Japanese manga artists liked to make their characters stand out much more by simplifying them against complex backgrounds, and how the larger length of manga made the Japanese artist much less afraid of “wasting panels” by showing slower paced, more leisurely images. He showed examples with the “camera” in Japanese manga wandering over various parts of an environment, or focusing on simple, every day moments that American comics might deem to trivial to cover.

And of course, on the American side, there was the undeniable aspect that it was dominated by super heroes to degree unheard of in either Europe or Japan, but, more subtly, he pointed out that American comics had been heavily influenced by the theatrical or vaudville tradition. Because American comics were originally comedic, and the first comics came out during the era of Vaudville, comics were framed much in the way that a stage play was composed. This was also carried on to a large degree as film was introduced to American culture and when it happened, McCloud noticed that American comics are far more inclined to compose “beauty shots” where the characters are facing the camera. He commented that one of the things Will Eisner tried to advise young artists on was to give up this habit, saying that “you have to let go of this obsession with the close up” and then he contrasted this with the European and Japanese comics that frequently show the backs of characters, long shots, or what have you, but are nowhere near as concerned with getting that “beauty close up” as their American counterparts.

Another interesting thing that came up in his talk was his classification of comics creators into four “tribes.” There is the Classicist, and these are the people who are very much invested in perfecting craft and technique. These are the ones like Alex Ross or Jim Lee who make the kinds of pictures that are worthy of framing, who show people just how beautiful comics can be. Then there are the Animists, and these are people who strive for story, for engaging the audien
ce and actual medium of delivery is secondary to the effect it has on the reader. There are the Formalists, of which McCloud counts himself a member, who play with ideas. These are the guys that are interested in the medium itself and want to pull, push and stretch the boundaries of it, just to see what it can do, how far it can go. And finally, there are the Iconoclasts, who believe that comics should be about Truth and strive for Authenticity, and try convey some kind of important theme or point.

It was all quite educational, and quietly mind-blowing. I think if this kind of course had been offered when I was in university, I probably would have majored in comics, because I found myself deeply, deeply fascinated by all the information that he was just throwing up there and really wished I could just get in a conversation with the man to talk about this stuff.

Now the only thing that’s missing is that he needs to write a fourth book. I would find this book particularly useful if the titles was Publishing & Distributing Comics, since that’s the particular stage that the Wife and I find ourselves needing the most help with.

Then again, what struggling comic book artist doesn’t?

Day At The Museum

Today was “let’s use one thing as an excuse for another” day. When we met up with the Tactician a while back (lo, back in those days when the ground was white, the air was cold and the trees were dead) his girlfriend ended up getting her purse stolen and it wound up–sans money of course–in the hands of the Toronto Transport Commission, or TTC as they call it here. She sent the official form to us and we decided to walk down to the Bay Subway Station, which is where the Lost n’ Found office is located, to pick it up for her. We ventured past our usual boundaries and into the green and plasticky ambiance that is Yorkville where the suit quotient jumped up considerably (it’s basically the playground for the rich) and the breeze carries with it the constant whispering refrain of “shishy” in your ear. For whatever reason, Club Monaco has a big building here with classical architecture that proclaims that this building once functioned as the Department For Household Science back when the University of Toronto offered a degree in such things, which as a recently as 1975, by the way. After that, we had a classic Big City moment where we bought a hotdog from a stand, and sat down on the steps of a church, watching the people go by as the pigeons trotted around, hoping for crumbs.

Then, since we were in the neighborhood and it was Friday–meaning admission dropped from $18 to $5–we also used this as the rationale to finally getting around to visiting the Royal Ontario Museum.

As you can see from this concept art, the ROM (pronounced similarly to Read Only Memory, or the Spaceknight of the same name) is a lovely old building with some truly impressive classical architecture that has a new addition being built onto/into it to reflect a more 21st century sensibility. I have to admit, I’m not a fan, and the first time I saw it (it’s nearly done and will be completed, in theory, by June) I wanted to know which Kryptonian had crashed his ship into the building and why we didn’t see him using the CN Tower to impale giant monsters attacking the city.

However, bizarre aesthetic choices aside, we actually spent the better part of the late afternoon and early evening wandering around the three floors of the museum that are currently accessible. I suppose I should have seen it coming, but when we checked out the first floor exhibits of artifacts from Korea, China and Japan, the collection far exceeded–in both quantity and quality–the exhibits on display at the Singapore Asian Civilizations Museum. It struck me as stupidly ironic that to see a really good display of Asian culture, I had to get back to Canada to do it.

The second floor is currently exhibiting natural sciences, which range from the usual fossils of dinosaurs (after watching all those Walking with Dinosaurs DVDs, I’d forgotten how damn big these things are when you’re standing in front of one) to stuffed animals of every kind. The Wife has now finally seen a moose, albeit a dead one, as well as a buffalo, or at least the head of one. She’s also contemplating starting up a horn collection after seeing the wide variety of skulls on display with the most bizarre, twisty, spirally kinds of horn you ever did see. There were also big drawers you could pull out which contained, amongst other things, beetles, bats and fish.

The third floor was where they were currently featuring an exhibit on an ancient Peruvian Sican civilization, as well as their fixed Egyptian, Greek and European (from the medieval period onwards to art deco) artifacts. We literally spent hours just wandering around taking in the different displays and I was quite surprised to realize that it was 9:30 in the evening by the time we left, the hours just flew by.

It gave me a lot of neat ideas for stories too, but I’ll have to ruminate over that a little bit more, as well as find an excuse to use them somewhere…

Game Tunes! Japanese Girls! Super Cute Violin Go Go Go!

The girl on the left, believe it or not, is an enormously talented violinist by the name of Ayako Ishikawa. But tonight all that dozens of heavy set geeks thought as they drooled over her was “Gee… I wish that super cute violinist was my girlfriend because I love all things Japanese, which she most definitely is!”

Recently I wrote an article for GameAxis that briefly covered the history of video game music and included a bit about a group that was coming down to Singapore from Australia. They’re called Eminence, and they’re a bunch of classically trained musicians who got fed up with traditional orchestral music being considered “real music” and game music being considered… not music. Super Cute Ayako was one of the more recent additions to the troupe. As a result of me writing said article, I managed to score some tickets for The Wife and I, since the organizers seemed extremely happy that someone actually wrote an article with a fair amount of confidence and knowledge of the field, and I even got a thank you on the back of the program along with the GameAxis editors.

It was a freakish experience, but very, very cool. The first thing that immediately struck me as bizzare was the fact that there wasn’t a musician on the stage over the age of 35. And the same went for the 98% of the audience. Of course, the other freaky thing was when they started to perform. This wasn’t a full orchestra, it was an ensemble of two violinists, a pianist, a drummer and guitarist, along with Yasunori Mitsuda, a notable Japanese game composer who played on a very old looking Greek, mandolin-ish type instrument.

As soon as they songs started up, it was very strange for me. I think this is the first time I’ve kind of been “touched” in a way during a concert. I’ve been to plenty of concerts with some incredibly talented musicians and the music has always been soaring and amazing and inspiring. But this is the first time I’ve heard the music and thought to myself “I know that… I grew up with that music as a kid…” and it went to some other part of my brain that traditional classical music doesn’t go and gave me a shiver. As stupid as it sounds, just hearing the themes of Chrono Cross or Xenosaga being played out immediately set off images in my head of those games, those moments and I got genuine chills from the recognition. Also, according to The Wife’s theory, the fact that two immensely talented violinists didn’t help matters, because she believes that the sound of a live violin being played goes directly to the “Emo Lobe” of the brain and pretty much makes you want to cry whether you want to or not. Something about the particular frequency it resonates at.

All I know for sure is that the performance was a LOT of fun. I hope in Toronto the Play! Video Game Symphony Orchestra will show up again (they already played there in September) and bring the full sonic assault of stuff like Final Fantasy and Halo out in force. ‘Cause I have to admit, it was very cool but very bizarre to be hearing classical music, get really excited about it, and then afterwards get the kind of applause and hooting and hollering normally associated with a rock concert. Positively surreal, man. But fun!

Holiday Still Means Work

Today is actually Hari Raya in Singapore, which, if you are surrounded by Muslims the way I am, means that you don’t experience any morbid fear that this is some bizarre alien ritual involving bombing Americans to the stone age. It is in fact an old Islamic tradition where they celebrate the ending of the month long fasting they have been doing as a reminder to exercise restraint and self-control in all aspects of your life.

It also means not having to go in to work. Sadly, I am still working away anyhow as yet another revision of the script for the game documentary goes in (they really, REALLY like getting in multiple revisions) and I experience some mild relief from the near constant itching that’s been plagueing me for the last few days. Looks like steroids are good for something after all, though I suppose having two different kinds in my bloodstream at the moment would mean an automatic fail in any athletic competition right now..

Out Of The Pocket

I have barely slept. The combination of being unable to sleep on planes combined with my inability to sleep in a new place the first night, combined with the omnipresent unsynchronicity of time zones from jet lag means that I’ve probably been awake for close to 48 hours now. I think I may get desperate tonight and actually take some Nyquil just to ensure I actually get knocked out. I may have slept for a few brief minutes here and there last night, but it sure doesn’t feel like it.

I finally got out of bed around 6 am, wandered into the Starbucks at the hotel to get some coffee and got roped into a conversation with the baristas where I had to explain my wallet was made out of marijuana hemp, but that’s okay since it’s from Nepal. I think the stoner expression on my face left them with the deep conviction that just before coming in to get coffee I had, in fact, been smoking my wallet. Ended up sitting on a bench just outside the hotel watching the people work and the traffic go by and the people in suits doing people in suit things, which usually involved talking on cellular phones in an irritated manner to someone who was an idiot. Finally going back into my room revealed a roommate already propped up on the bed taking in Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey, which meant a respectful and mandatory watching. Breakfast was a slow mosey over to a nearby Burger King a couple of blocks away to watch everyone there slowly eating things by the grey light of an overcast morning.

Today was the first actual E3 related event, although I can’t actually talk too much about it because there’s an embargo on what was presented until the 10^th. Suffice to say it was a press conference by Activision, so a quick look on any gaming website about Activision’s upcoming titles should give you a pretty clear idea of what was presented there.

It was a pretty impressive presentation, especially considering the kind of things I’ve gotten used to from the comparatively meagre PR marketing efforts that the Singapore entities of these publishers would normally give. This one took place in a full on hall with rows and rows and rows of tables at which journalists from all over the frickin’ planet sat, some furiously writing notes, others furiously typing as their chubby, almost albino faces were bathed in the ghost light of their laptops. There was also the traditional Journalist’s Bribe afterwards of free food; carefully packed sandwiches, cookies and potato chips and other edible accessories which came in the usual American size servings, meaning I had no hope in hell of actually finishing one of these Activision MREs while typical American journalists probably ate two or three and still had room for lunch.

After that it was time to do some sightseeing. There were three of us, and one of the trio had never been to L.A. before. Not that I actually remember too much of the city since the last time I was here was as a kid.

L.A. started feeling more and more like a real place today, as opposed to the pocket dimension that is Singapore which is nice, neat, orderly, efficient and remarkably like an urban entity designed by an expert Sim City player. L.A. on the other hand, with its graffiti on freeway walls, it’s hopeless public transportation and melange of confused but highly stressed, ambitious and motivated individuals feels far more substantial—and threatening—than Singapore ever does. But then in my mind, real does not always equate to better.

The first place we went to was some mall in and around the Hollywood area called Beverly Center, or Beverly Shopping Mall, I forget exactly which. People bought things while I watched, and then we marched across the street to a music store which also sold DVDs, and I finally ended up getting something for the Wife and myself to watch, though I won’t say what here, since she’s reading this. Afterwards it was announced that it was now time to make the pilgrimage and pay homage to the House Of Smith by hitting up Jay & Silent Bob’s Secret Stash. On the way over, we got our first exposure to Road Rage ™ when someone started honking furiously on the freeway and then pulled out of the main lane, speeding away while sticking his fist out and shaking it with all the power and majesty of a short, muscular man in a toupee trying to do his best Robert DeNiro “Are you talking to ME?!?” impression.

Eventually we arrived at our destination, which was in Westwood.

Going in was not the geek fest I was expecting, simply because of a lack of geeks. The store itself was super geeky, with a sign on the door that read “I assure you, we’re open,” a nod to Clerks, and a giant banner behind the counter reading “I’m not even supposed to be here today”, but there was a noticeable lack of Steve-Dave types, with only one other customer at a time, and a bored but still friendly cashier behind the counter who was playing on the public speaker what seemed to be an audio book explaining the REAL truth behind 9-11 and how Flight 93 didn’t crash, and how explosives were used in the twin towers and all kinds of other stuff. Kevin Smith DVDs were, unsurprisingly, on sale, some of them signed by Kev himself.

There were also glass display cases which held, amongst other things, the Daredevil costume, the chest plate Ben Affleck wore in Dogma towards the end, the Bluntman & Chronic outfits worn in Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back, and the catsuit and skimpy green top and denim skirt worn by Shannon Elizabeth, also in the same film. Comics and other paraphernalia were purchased by the geeks (Though not me), which included a “Got Christ” T-shirt with Buddy Christ on it. Classic.

Then we decided to
take the bus down to Santa Monica beach, and it was here that we got our first real taste of L.A. when, while waiting for the bus, one pulled up with an angry bus driver and an equally angry passenger who were screaming at each other because the bus driver was saying “Get the hell out, it’s the end of the line,” and the passenger was screaming “NO! AND WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING AT ME?!?” which, incredibly, resulted in a fist fight. The bus driver and the passenger (for the record the driver was kind of old and white, the passenger was black) were seriously going at it, grabbing heads, punching each other, and eventually guys on the street tried to break it up. We were in front of some Westwood gym, and a short but buff guy came out of the gym and tried to break it up, when the passenger turned on him and another fight ensued, except this one ended up with him on the ground, getting kicked by the gym guy while the bus driver talked on the cell phone, presumably to the police, since the cops showed up just the bus we wanted arrived and we left that ugly little scene.

Hitting the beach was surreal because A) It was gloomy and overcast, which made it vaguely resemble Brighton, and B) I had a major sense of incomplete déjà vu and at first attributed it to having been there before, and then realized that the reason it was incomplete was because it needed to be strewn with bodies and jacked cars, with me running people over and indiscriminately crashing into ferris wheels and folks on the beach. I was quite struck by just how accurately GTA San Andreas had recreated this environment to the point where I was thinking “And on the left should be the roller coaster and my God, there it is…”

Things were getting kind of painful at this point because for some reason I was having a cramp in my lower legs that caused me to start walking around with a pronounced limp like an unfortunate returnee from a tour of duty in Iraq. Sitting down helped, but usually the pain came after a few minutes of walking.

From the beach we went down the street to the boardwalk, and perused the Border’s bookstore, listened to some bad guitarists on the street, and found a toy store which sold neat items like Jesus, Moses, Einstein and Leonardo Da Vinci action figures, and a genius set called “Cube” that offered little Playmobil style figures in their own office cubicles that had PCs showing off solitaire or the Windows Blue Screen Of Death.

A little bit more wandering finally ended up back at the hotel were the cabbie thoughtfully pointed out a strip club within walking distance of the hotel in case we needed entertainment, though in all likelihood, tonight’s entertainment will probably consist of watching Brick on the hotel TV.

Wow, I sure do write lots when I’m tired…

Symphony At The Bug-Eyes

Take a look at this:

It’s called the Esplanade, the official Singapore answer to the Sydney Opera House in that it’s supposed to be the national center for the performance of the arts. Every time I look at it, I think that these are the compound eyes of some huge mecha-dragonfly sleeping just below the surface of the water, and so I’ve always thought of the place as simply the Bug-Eyes. One nice thing about the place that morons will strongly resent is that the concert halls are actually shielded to cellular phone signals so even if you were one of those jerks that insists on talking on the phone during a performance, no one can call you and you can’t call out. Call it a denial of civil liberties, I simply call it finally clamping down on stupidity.

Tonight was concert night. We checked out a French pianist who, it seemed, came out for a single performance of Ravel, and then promptly left after one encore performance. In my estimation, that’s not too bad; get paid thousands of dollars for 30 minutes work. Not too shabby at all.

Overall, while I enjoyed the performance, I actually preferred the music without the pianist, which was Wagner and Schumann. Maybe it’s just an inherent prejudice, but I kind of like German symphonics more than French. Even when it’s trying its damndest to be upbeat and happy, as in Wagner’s Sigfried’s Idyll, there’s still a dark, militant undercurrent that makes you feel happy but still want to subjugate something. Only the Germans, man.

I also developed a new sympathy of the brass section. It was probably just the night’s selection, but I noticed the guys who played the trumpet in one piece blew his horn exactly once. But then you can say the same for the harp, trombone or any of the other instruments that aren’t violins or cellos. There’s always been a heavy prejudice towards the strings, but then they sound so damn evocative it’s kind of hard not to abuse them.

I Am Not An Artist

But then I suspect most artists are rather lousy artists as well when it comes to the less savoury element of being successful; dealing with opening night at the gallery.

Yesterday and acquaintance of the Wife and I had her gallery opening. We met her and her husband when they were newly arrived from Paris and they decided to adopt the first kitten we’d ever rescued, which I had dubbed Pathos and they ended up calling Momo. She’s more of an Artist-artist in that there’s a more conceptual bent to her work, rather than pure technical.

But yeah, it was a weird thing to go that gallery opening where everyone was a young, urban professional, dressed to the nines and sagely commenting on the social life in Singapore, the art work before them, and the daily struggle of being successful and wealthy. I found I had little stomach for it and we ended up leaving pretty early if only because I hadn’t had anything to eat all day and needed some food in me. Of course, the same could be said for the artist herself and her husband; neither of them particularly enjoys that sort of thing either, but then this, apparently is the price of success and that is meeting a lot of people you don’t particularly care for and pretending to, at least for a night.

On the other hand Gundam MS 08 squad is shaping to be an excellent series, which was loaned to me by the editor over at GameAxis. Unfortunately the final disc in the series is missing, so I guess I’ll never find out how it ends, which kind of puts a damper on things, but oh well…