Flotsam and Jetsam

It's ridiculous (or perhaps fortunate) how little time I have had to blog lately. The Dutch tour wrapup post is on its way, but in the meantime, some disconnected (and probably idiotic) ramblings:

1. Last Sunday night at about 10 PM I found myself in that subset of the country (the world?) commonly referred to as "those who are disappointed in the ending of the Sopranos." (By the way, skip the next three paragraphs if you haven't seen the final episode yet.) This is primarily because lowly I -- not a "TV expert" like some of the folks who were trotted out in the media in the days before and after the end of the series, but a TV-ambivalent shmuck -- was able to predict more or less how things were going to turn out. (Me to Daphne, maybe three weeks ago: "I bet they'll leave the whole thing up in the air, sans closure.") Okay, Mr. Chase, I get it. Neat endings are not like life. The journey (so to speak) is more important than the destination. Look for the clues and decide for yourself what happened. Whatever. Maybe I'm just cranky because I'm struggling to reconcile the vast quantity of musical work I have to catch up on with the number of hours (days?) of my life I have spent watching your epic TV drama.

The fact that I can't imagine an ending that would have worked better for me suggests that on some level I just don't care anymore. Which is strange. I guess for whatever reason my Sopranos admiration has dwindled over the last few seasons (despite a riveting episode here and there). But I had to watch the whole thing, didn't I? (Maybe that's America's great contribution to world culture: addiction.)

Despite my disappointment, I remain a big fan of the show's use of music. Though frustratingly uncredited every week, and amazingly sparse (usually saved until the last few seconds of each episode), the musical selections (as far as I know there was little or no original music used in the series) have always been spot-on. And Sunday's reclamation of Journey (for an absurd moment of comedy and impending-death tension) was particularly tasty -- very much in the recent tradition of providing popular tunes with entirely new contexts (the use of "Sister Christian" in Boogie Nights is another favorite example of mine).

2. Sometime last week I found myself in that subset of the blogosphere commonly referred to as "those who are astonished at (and humbled by) DJA's blogging stamina." 24+ hours of realtime written commentary on a seminal NY concert event? Most of it insightful, engaging, and well-written? Plus way cool pictures? Are you fucking kidding me?! I'm in awe. The only thing that would have been more impressive would be if he had been actually running a marathon while blogging about the marathon.

3. Also sometime last week, two of my closest friends in the world went up even higher in my estimation (as if that's possible!) when they told me that they had given their newborn son what I think may be one of the coolest middle names ever: "Hippopotamus." I'm not sure if I'm at liberty to divulge who these folks are, so I won't. Suffice it to say that if Daphne and I ever have a boy (another child is very doubtful at this point, but you never know), I will strongly lobby to name that individual "Zeke." That's because for a long time I thought "Zeke" was probably the most badass name you could ever give a baby boy ("Dweezil" doesn't count, because the "Zappa Family Trust" probably has a copyright on it or something). Alas, now I know I was wrong.

4. Sometime last month, I started listening (and re-listening) to a lot of Carla Bley. Holy shit, I can't seem to stop. Have you seen her website, by the way?