
My head's still bruised and my ears are still ringing from that Jucifer show last night ... WHAT? SPEAK UP!!!


A couple of fascinating self-made vids from some local artists started my morning the right way just now, so I figured I'd share. I thank both of these acts for helping to wipe away the memory of a dream (true story) in which OW's Steve Schneider spent hours – perhaps days – listing off the myriad ways that I suck at life. Steve, you haunt me, pal.
The first is a cheeky rendition of the Black Eyed Peas' intolerable "I've Gotta Feeling" travesty by a group called Rabbit! (with the exclamation point). You know them. Former Bloom member Devin Moore and former Big Sky-er Ashton Allen started up the group with an eye toward selling jingles to commercials, and they did – that's them in the Honda Insight commercial last year singing "We. Are. All in this together."
Now they've added a couple of ladies (including OW cover girl Emma Jean Branch) and make happy music. Kinda like a white(er), pastier version of the Peas. In the clip, they manage to thread the needle of kitsch expertly and, vis a vis literal reenactments, point out the surreal absurdity of the song's lyrics. Check it out:
This next one comes from Miami singer-songwriter Tristan Clopet, who expertly covers Vampire Weekend's "Cousins" with high-flying, Buckley-esque shred gymnastics.



I think it's safe to say that these couple of days, for film critics who view their job as one giant run-up to a Vegas-style craps game of trophies that they themselves have little-to-no effect on at least, are downright orgasmic times of prognosticating. The Oscar nominations have been announced, and nobody takes them seriously, but who are the haters to stomp on the fun?
I align closer to New York Times crit Manohla Dargis, who once said, "Let's acknowledge the Oscars are bullshit and we hate them," before adding the most hilarious "But..." I've ever seen.
In that spirit, here's my "but": I like the Best Song category.
Yes, it's pretty roundly despised, even by nominees like Peter Gabriel who railed against last year's 3-minute medley-as-tribute-slash-kiss-off. Even in our own offices here the category is disregarded utterly. (You won't hear estimable dining editor Jessica Bryce Young drop many four-letter words until you bring up Best Song.)
But I always defend it as a throwback to a pastime when musicals (a personal favorite genre of mine) ruled the roost. Sure, they've gone horribly astray – sometimes – but it's a particularly crass exercise in subjectivity-rendered-authoritarian that I've always cherished, half-embarrassed.
The sheer gall that it takes to award West Side Story the Best Picture but shut it out of any Best Song nominations – a tragedy that also befell The Music Man(6 noms, none for Song) the next year and My Fair Lady (8 wins including Best Picture, none for Song), AND The Sound of Music a couple years after that (5 wins including Best Picture, none for Song) – I could go on and on – is the kind of head-burying stupidity that demands a certain mouth-gaping affection.
That's not to say it always epic-fails. You can't hate a ceremony that gives hardware to the songs of yesterday that have come to define the cultural condition: "Over the Rainbow," "When You Wish Upon a Star," "Lose Yourself," or "It's Hard Out There For a Pimp." (What!)
This year's crop, however, is one of the most depressingly tone deaf in a long time. (Samesies for every other category.) You get a double-dose of Randy Newman's New Orleans trash (from The Princess & the Frog), a token song from Nine (granted, "Take It All" is the most tolerable in a crop of historically awful tunes from that musical), the lock-in favorite from Crazy Heart (good film, wrong song) and a very French jaunt that puts Nine's faux-Italia to shame (but won't win).
No thanks. For your consideration, here are my five that were far more memorable (for various, and not always elegant reasons), IMO, of the over 60 songs that met the Academy's stringent rules and clauses:
"Other Father Song" (from Coraline) – Hated the movie, but this was a 26-second bright spot by They Might Be Giants.
"Smoke Without Fire" (from An Education) – I admit, this was my favorite movie of last year. I also admit that I think Duffy should win every award for everything ever. Still...amazing song.

You remember Mario Winans, right? Bad Boy producer/underling, CeCe's nephew? Had that amazing single several years back, "I Don't Wanna Know," that sampled Enya and then faded into obscurity faster than you can say, "So...he's a Winans but not, like, a Winans?"
Yeah him. Well, he's still all about the benjamins these days: Two and a half of them, to be exact. And he's willing to part with that sweet sweet small-percentage-of-your-monthly-rent dough to find that perfect singer that he can sign to a deal that could translate into an entire month's rent worth of pocket change!
On Feb. 27, Winans and an entourage of knob-tweakers who call themselves the Dream Big/Hustle Hard Firm will be at Lux Ultra Lounge on I-Drive in search of the Next Great Whatever. The winner of the night receives $250, which they'll need to drive their asses to Miami for the "finals" in May.
You must be 18 to enter. OH! And I almost forgot. You must pay $100.
I went through the process of "registering" for the scam before I found out that little tidbit. Why did I register? Because there's always a catch. And you have to commit before you'll find it.
Why does Orlando seem to draw these sucker takes? Seriously, most "talent searches" are scams, yes, but if they're stopping through our town, you can bet it's extra scuzzy.
For shame, Mario. Now go back to your little hole you crawled into in 2004 and stay there.

If we were half as clever as Poetic of local rap troupe Treal, believe we'd have long overused "the Poe Oh Seven" in reference to the Orlando economy. But we aren't. Poetic is.
Instead, the term signifies the (soon-to-be, I'm sure) all-encompassing website for all things Poetic. Earlier this month, the rapper launched Poe Oh Seven in an effort to connect with fans and inevitably get flooded with digital show posters for other people. (Also to debut Poetic's new single, "Stuck in My Head,")

Winter Park resident and beloved composer Howard L. Richards died yesterday. PARMA, the record label that proudly considered Richards one of their flagship composers, released an obituary today, along with one of Richards' selections. Click here to read and hear. PARMA's statement is reprinted below.
PARMA's
very good friend Howard L. "Dick" Richards passed away on January 27,
2010. Dick was a highly talented musician and man who was equally
facile as a composer of orchestral, vocal, and chamber music and as an
engineer, a job he performed with RCA for its legendary "Living Stereo"
line. Dick was finalizing the liner notes for his new release of choral
music on PARMA imprint Navona Records; the music was recorded this past
summer and final touch-ups were done in December - he was pleased with
every note of the music and was looking forward to recording his next
project, "The Paris Suite." He will be greatly missed, and we are
better for having his music in our lives.
Bob Lord
(CEO, PARMA Recordings)

There are only five shows you need to worry about this weekend:






Anonymous said, "I apologize for misspelling clothes and for the poor use of tenses, I'm not as smart as I think I am... "
Anonymous said, "Also for the record I make Jeanie dress up in my close and draw moles all over her so I could know w... "
Anonymous said, "*penis... "
Anonymous said, "Just for the record I have a tiny pens- Rich's Id... "
Anonymous said, "Just for the record I liked and miss Jason Ferguson at the weekly- Rich... "