Word: wails
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...their horns are, at least to Brazilian ears, disappointingly meek. As a result, manufacturers of install-it-yourself kits do a booming business in noisemakers. The beetles' mewling toot is replaced by full-throated klaxons that belt out bars of hard-rock music or soar into the oscillating wail of European ambulances. The VW's short-stroke engine remains untouched, but its exhaust is channeled through complicated "extractors" or straight pipe "resonators" that make the humble bug sound like a snarling Ferrari or thundering Offenhauser. A less expensive gimmick is to wire a bottle of water under...
...measure of the terror of the obsession itself that from the perspective of good health and at the distance of art Mayer still confronts the horror obliquely--through understatement, burlesque, and nonchalance. But do not be misled by these devices into doubting the seriousness of Mayer's purpose. The wail of fear drones in the songs (some of which, like "Cat Scratch Fever," recur in his shows as anthems), in the abruptness of the pacing and in the roller-coaster whirling of the stage machinery. In Job as in Jesus the references, the allusions, the modulations of mood...
...when we ultimately become whatever it is we now are to be, when we finally arrive wherever it is we now are going, I have the feeling that we will then--and only then--realize the futility of Paul McCartney's wail as it echoes tinnily on the edge of our collective consciousness...
...wail begins as a moan. The sensual anguish of Philip Roth's Portnoy's Complaint can be traced back to a fictive lament written when he was 26. The film version of Goodbye, Columbus is wise enough to preserve his undeniable assets: the sexual candor, the sour salt of Jewish skepticism, the ear that has overheard everything and forgiven nothing. The movie goes astray occasionally, not because it is too faithful to Roth's text, but because it imitates other films, notably The Graduate. A pity. Goodbye, Columbus is stronger on dialogue and longer on humanity...
...muscle, as what seemed to be the entire population of northeast Tennessee tried to reach him for one last swing or kick. Finally the cops quieted the crowd, which must have thought the old man was dead or dying. The curtains were drawn, and I waited for the wail of an ambulance, for surely Pop was in need of medical aid. But the sly possum suddenly jumped to his feet, not a mark on him, and strode into the dressing room with a sinister grin on his face, basking in the hatred of the fans and confident that next week...