Word: songbooks
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...seven he'll spend in Cuba on his way to a medical degree. We follow the taxi into Cienfuegos, drop off Dale at his barbed wire-surrounded dormitory, check into a hotel with red light bulbs and a lounge singer plowing through the high points of the Billy Joel songbook, and we're done for the night...
...larger portions of tracks such as "Milk and Honey" and the high-energy first single "Sexx Laws" remain sparse, highlighting the intertwining riffs which pop from guitar to bass to trumpet to sax and back. "Sexx Laws" and its driving horns might come straight from the James Brown songbook; other tunes could back up gangsta rap (though it's unlikely Method Man would tolerate this couplet, from "Hollywood Freaks": "We drop lobotomy beats/Evaporated meats"). The fantastically mellow "Debra" even features an impassioned falsetto vocal delivered to the world's most sensuous J.C. Penney clerk. "I wanna get with you," Beck...
...sometimes Chief Justice WILLIAM REHNQUIST just can't stop his irrepressibly jaunty side from shining through. His "Old Fashioned Sing-along," for example, is considered a highlight of the annual 4th Circuit Judicial Conference. This year, however, some lawyers took exception to the inclusion of Dixie in his songbook. Many consider the Confederate marching song, which was played at Jefferson Davis' inauguration, to be nostalgic for slavery. Rehnquist is not commenting publicly, but we do have some insight into what else he's doing in his downtime. Earlier this month, he entered, and won, a contest in the Washington Post...
...going out of style. Unrecorded for 22 years, Bey, now 58, issued a comeback CD, Ballads, Blues and Bey, in 1996. On this follow-up, he makes dramatic use of his four-octave range against spare but inventive arrangements of tunes from the further reaches of the great American songbook. On ballads, Bey's voice can have a humanizing tightness, a vulnerability that draws a listener in. But when the tempo quickens he can really belt it out: the New York Times aptly dubbed him a "hard-bop foghorn...
...followed by the flock of recently published books circling, vulture-like, in clear anticipation of his passing. At this point any recounting of his accomplishments--his unassailable greatness as a singer, his somewhat more assailable greatness as an actor, his impeccable taste as a curator of the great American songbook, his ancillary talents as both philanthropist and thug, his status as a totem of midcentury masculinity--inevitably takes on a dutiful, ritualistic air. So what better way to breathe a little life into the process than with an insult...