Word: sting
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...most people have forgotten the popular crowd of high school. The sting of rejection has long since disappeared. As they attend important board meetings or travel around the world, I doubt that many recent Harvard graduates sadly ponder their exclusion from a Saturday night party at the Fox in 1997. Nor do these successful alumni sit around and cry about how this snub affected the rest of their lives. The final clubs simply don’t play a large role in the formation of successful students like they used...
...group has felt the sting like Evening With Champions. Another kink in their fund raising process was the apparent lack of interest from the press. Evening With Champions lost PBS funding in March 2001, and with news of airport security, strikes on Afghanistan and anthrax dominating the papers, a figure-skating show was not front-page material. “We couldn’t get stories written about us,” explains Mendez. “We’re an exhibition, not an athletic competition, so sports [sections didn’t] like us. Everything was backlogged...
...songwriters. In the glory days of Tin Pan Alley, so-called songpluggers used to accost vaudeville vocalists, pushing them to perform their new compositions in hopes that they would make them into hits. New York is still just as aggressive, just as hungry, when it comes to songwriting. If Sting (who has an apartment in New York) could get a song out of the Cold War ("Russians"), surely today?s other New York-area performers will find meaning and inspiration in the city?s recent history. Already, New Jersey native Bruce Springsteen has written a song that deals with...
...bouncing before they head off into the clouds. It all comes together beautifully on “Mr. Oysterhead,” the song that sums everything up both lyrically and musically: From the ludicrously phat funk of the bass, and the high-hat shuffle that used to send Sting into orbit, to the cocky lyrics, “When all else has been done and said / Along comes Mr. Oysterhead / He’s an inspiration to us all.” Indeed he is?...
...trash-compactor, but the line slips past barely noticed in Vega’s sleight of voice. The genius of Vega lies in her ability to write songs that creep up on you slowly, insinuating themselves with their skillfully painted character sketches and wistful tales with an unexpected sting in their tail: “If I Were a Weapon” concludes, “Well, if I am that weapon / I am pointing now at you / So just put down the hostage and we’ll / Talk it down until we see this through...