Adolfo Guzman-Lopez name-checked in The Simpsons; Barry McGovern and bleak, black Beckett; the Whisky's business model; and a visit to Night Vale.
Smash hit podcast 'Welcome to Night Vale' comes to LA and Off-Ramp
UPDATE: Welcome to Nightvale, the hit bizarre podcast, is at the Orpheum Theatre in downtown LA Saturday night. Here's our interview with Nightvale creator Joseph Fink from 2014.
Imagine it's 11:30 at night and you're listening to one final podcast before you fall asleep. And the one you choose sounds like a community radio station in a small desert city that might have been taken over by aliens or a shadow government. In Night Vale, murders and massacres are commonplace, not to mention bleeding mailboxes and glow clouds.
(Welcome to Night Vale merch at TopatoCo)
To coin a phrase, Welcome to Night Vale.
It's dropped back to #4 on iTunes, but this summer, "Welcome to Night Vale" reigned as #1, beating even "Radiolab" and "This American Life." It's written by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor, and usually narrated by Cecil Baldwin. In the wake of the podcast's success, a Night Vale novel is promised next year, and the team is in the middle of a West Coast tour, with dates next weekend at Largo at the Coronet.
When I reached him in Seattle, co-creator Joseph Fink understood when I told him his show reminds me of the AM radio station in my home town, mixed with Art Bell's "Coast to Coast," and maybe a little Garrison Keillor. But, nope.
"I think those comparisons are very flattering," he said. "I actually have listened to little to none of any of those things. ... I wanted to do a podcast and I didn't want it to be like any podcast I was already listening to. And so I eventually came up with the idea of this town where every conspiracy theory is true, and then we just go on with life."
I said "Welcome to Night Vale" is, at its heart, people getting on with their lives, and Fink agreed.
"Well, yeah. I feel like that's what people really connect to in Night Vale. Night Vale is terrifying. There are terrifying things all around, and people die constantly, and yet the citizens of Night Vale have to just keep going on and living their lives within the circumstances they have. And that's true of real life, too. Real life it terrifying, too. ... And in that way, we are very similar to the people of Night Vale; it's just Night Vale exaggerates that a little bit. And it's aliens instead of cancer. But it's the same basic idea of just taking the circumstance you have and dealing with it the best you can."
Listen for much more, and to hear KPCC's Molly Peterson tell us about her favorite episode of "Welcome to Night Vale."
'20 Feet from Stardom' wins documentary Oscar, was first film to sell at Sundance
UPDATE 3/2/2014: "20 Feet from Stardom" won the Documentary Feature Oscar tonite! Here's our piece from Sundance 2013, and congratulations to all involved.
They can really make or break a record, but throughout the history of recorded music, they've been -- mostly -- kept out of the spotlight. They're background singers.
Director Morgan Neville tells their story in the inspiring new documentary 20 Feet from Stardom, which became the first film to sell at Sundance 2013. The Weinstein Company snapped up the North American rights and it'll reportedly screen in theatres this summer.
Off-Ramp contributor and documentarian Ray Greene talked with Neville at Sundance soon after the director heard the good news. Neville told him, "It's the kind of thing you fantasize about for years when you're making films. My head's spinning. It's a huge relief. And it means I get to go see movies" at Sundance.
Neville told Greene former A&M Records president Gil Friesen approached him about making the film, and they started -- since they didn't really know anything about background singers -- by simply interviewing fifty of them. Then, the doc took shape.
Friesen, the film's producer, died last month. Neville says Friesen saw the final cut, and was in the hospital when he heard the news it was accepted at Sundance. "It's just added a whole other layer of emotion to beign here at Sundance with his wife, and his kids, and his friends, and knowing it was his dream, too."
'The Simpsons' inspires KPCC's Adolfo Guzman-Lopez to ask, 'What's in a name'?
A funny thing happened to KPCC's Adolfo Guzman-Lopez a few weeks ago that's made him think a lot about his name, how he pronounces it, and why he hasn't watched "The Simpsons" since it was on "The Tracey Ullman Show."
It all started on a Monday, when I got an email from KPCC anchor Hettie Lynn Hurtes.
"Did you watch 'The Simpsons' this past weekend? Guess what, you were mentioned," she said.
I thought it was spam, but then two more people told me I should check it out.
The episode is about Lisa Simpson running for second grade class rep against bilingual, bicultural, super-popular, Isabel Gutierrez. She's dressed in a business suit, and the kids love it when she switches from flawless English to Spanish.
Here's a clip. Skip ahead to 7:00 to hear my name:
They're both introduced at the last debate: "Please welcome Lisa Simpson, and Isabel — Adolfo Guzman-Lopez — Gutierrez."
I didn't ask for it, but, yeah, I'll gush. Look at me, I'm a pop culture reference!
I'm totally flattered, but for a moment, I thought, really, "Is that how I'll be remembered?" After thousands of radio reports over 13 years at KPCC. Is that what'll be on my tombstone, a phonetic spelling of my name? Whaaa?
"It's the only thing we as radio reporters or hosts have are our names, nobody can see our faces," said smarty-pants Rico Gagliano from Dinner Party Download.
"Especially for public radio, which people keep on all day long, we're all basically interchangeable voices for people; the only thing that makes us stand out is our name," he said.
For the record, I was born in Mexico. Spanish was my first language, then I learned English when we moved to San Diego when I was 7 years old.
My name's been a battleground for my mom. When she split up with my dad, she officially changed my name to "Adolfo Lopez": That's her last name. She was a stickler for language. When I was growing up, she was always aware of how people's opinion changed based on how you spoke.
On a visit to San Diego, I asked her what she thought if I Anglicized my name.
"You'd be a faker," she said in Spanish.
She was even more of a nationalist when I was a kid. She feels strongly about it, but she has arthritis now, so she won't back it up like she would in the old days. Now she's an American citizen, votes and gushes about the African-American ladies she exercises with at the Y.
Hey, speaking of names, have you ever repeated your name over and over again, so many times, in your head that it lost its meaning? It's kind of a mind-expanding exercise.
Lots of other broadcasters in English media keep the Spanish pronunciation of their names. You've heard Maria Hinojosa for years, right? And last month, I caught an anchor I hadn't seen before, Rosa Flores, on CNN saying her name in Spanish. And it wasn't on CNN Latino.
Then there's Luis Torres. He's an institution in LA radio news. His first big story was the massive 1968 East L.A. high school walkouts that he covered as editor of the Lincoln High School "Railsplitter."
In 1980, just out of journalism graduate school, he got a job at KNX.
"I'd get letters from people saying, 'Why do you say your name that way? This is America.' And, almost inevitably, they would write, 'Why don't you go back where you came from?''' he said.
Well, he came from Lincoln Heights, about 10 miles away from the radio station.
There's a history to the hate letters he got. Many people remember Bill Dana's "Jose Jimenez" as a high point for the comedian's popularity but a low point in ethnic perceptions of Spanish-speaking Americans.
Even in 2014, with so many Spanish surnames in politics, sports and entertainment, it still grates on the ears of some people.
Here's part of a voice mail I got recently after a story I did about the high community college enrollment rates of Latinos attending high-performing schools:
"This poor Latino, no his mommy won't help him, and the whites go to four year colleges but the Mexicans don't. You know what, boo-hoo!" he said.
Which brings me back to my name appearing on "The Simpsons." I had UCLA Chicano studies professor Marissa Lopez watch it.
"How bizzare!" she said.
I told her about Bill Dana, Luis Torres and came up with some weird theory to tie it all back to "The Simpsons." She's a real academic, so she saw that it was all half-baked. But the conversation did remind her of a joke.
"Have you heard that riddle, 'What do you call a Mexican astronaut? An astronaut, you racist!'" she said.
Marissa Lopez is doing some big thinking these days using philosophical models to look at Latinidad, Chicanidad and shifting identity in the not too distant future, when the mainstream point of reference is no longer white. Hey, sort of like Isabel Gutierrez in "The Simpsons."
I asked John Rabe about it, and he said, "It's radio. It doesn't really matter how you say it. What matters is that people remember it."
Which they do. So you'll have to click on the audio for this story on the left side, to hear me say, "For Off-Ramp, I'm Adolfo Guzman-Lopez, 89.3 KPCC."
Barry McGovern finally brings one-man Beckett show, 'I'll Go On,' to LA
For 30 years, actor Barry McGovern has been performing "I'll Go On," a distillation of three Samuel Beckett novels, as a one-man show around the world. He's now brought it to L.A. for the first time, to the Kirk Douglas Theatre in Culver City through February 9th.
(Barry McGovern in "I'll Go On." Credit: Craig Schwartz)
"I'll Go On" is based on "Molloy," "Malone Dies," and "The Unnamable," which Beckett wrote after World War II, in which he was a hero of the French resistance. Beckett said he, "preferred France in war to Ireland in peace."
McGovern says, "He described his experience in a few words: Boy Scout stuff. He didn't want to get involved, but he couldn't stand idly by. A lot of Jewish friends of his were killed."
"The war plays a huge part in Beckett's life. It changed him as a man. He was a man who had read most of the canon of Western Literature, a man who was so brilliant and erudite, and a man we can see from (his letters), we can see that he was not a very pleasant young man in his youth. He was very arrogant, but he changed completely and became a man of great humility."
What is "I'll Go On" about?
"It's about the search for identity and the search for self. What is (laughing), the old great phrase, The Meaning of Life? Why are we here, what is it to be in this universe? What is it to go on? And the last words of the final book, as the voice pants looking for identity: 'You must go on. I can't go on. I'll go on.' So, no matter what happens, you must go on.
Yes, McGovern admits, "It sounds very abstruse," and Beckett is difficult. But McGovern also promises much "wicked, black humor."
LACMA's Calder exhibit lacks the artist's panache, love of chaos
Off-Ramp commentator Marc Haefele reviews “Calder and Abstraction: From Avant-Garde to Iconic,’’ at LACMA's Resnick Pavilion through July.
Installing a sculpture exhibition—particularly one in which works are bound to walls, sit on pedestals, hang in the air, hover close to the ground, and vary significantly in scale—can be tricky. ... Extensive plinths, protective barriers, and pedestals mitigate intentional or inadvertent touching, but can hinder the viewer’s ability to relate intimately with the works. Clearly, decisions about density, space, light, and color would need to be weighed against concerns for the safety and protection of the art. (Stephanie Barron, Senior Curator, LACMA)
Of the 69 works by Alexander Calder now showing at LACMA—stabiles, mobiles, drawings, paintings—there’s not one that isn’t a delight. It’s the most comprehensive Calder show in decades. Then why doesn’t the whole equal the sum of its parts? Because it feels caged by its own production values.
“Calder and Abstraction: From Avant-Garde to Iconic’’ is a status undertaking. The busy “50 Shades of Grey” setting was designed by Frank Gehry in the pavilion donated by those fructiferous squillionaires, Stewart and Lynda Resnick. Maybe that’s why it can’t seem to cut loose.
Calder’s innate playfulness was once confused with superficiality, but just because he’s so entertaining doesn’t mean he isn’t profound. His gravity-thwarting games are tiny doorways into the infinite. Over titles like “Universe,” Calder brings visions of the cosmos. How he would have loved our century’s discovery of far galactic planets. His was a mobile, expanding universe.
But not here.
What went wrong was disregard for Calder’s intent. LACMA Curator Stephanie Barron notes: “During Calder’s lifetime, [his] displays seemed to mimic those found in his studio: crowded together, overlapping, presenting a riotous cacophony of competing forms far removed from contemporary concerns of conservation and visitor-circulation paths.”
To me, the phrase “during Calder’s lifetime” means: “this was how Calder wanted his work shown.” But not at LACMA, where “Concerns of conservation and visitor-circulation paths” won. We are enjoined not to touch, not even to breathe on Calder’s monuments to motion. That’s against the very soul of the 20th century’s most free-spirited sculptor.
Here’s what I mean: At one point, our docent explained at great length the mechanics of a particular mobile, while our attention wandered. Moments later, a random air current stirred the structures of a nearby piece into complex interacting motions ... and the crowd stared, bedazzled.
Motion is what Calder is about. Has any artist ever had a surer sense of movement? How to use it, abuse it, amuse it, even to thwart it? But at LACMA, motion occurred only by accident. This show was reverence, not joy. So my mind drifted back 50 years, to the first Calder show I ever saw. It was the 1964 monster Retrospective in New York. (As it happens, Barron and Gehry were there too). That show was pure joy.
Of course, there were some insurmountable advantages. First, it was in Frank Lloyd Wright’s Guggenheim Museum, whose spiral format flaunted the Calder charm to the utmost.
And second, at least on opening night, it had Alexander Calder himself. Starting from the top of that grand concrete spiral, with a very alcoholic exuberance, he augured down through his dangling domain of decades of accomplishments. In his red Pendleton shirt, the white-haired Calder looked like a freshly-shaven Santa Claus, blowing on, even bumping his creations, those magic doodads hanging from the ceilings of the ramps and in every corner, if there had been any corners. They were meant to move; he made them move.
My friend Kathy, then just 20, just couldn’t stop herself; she ran up and kissed him, thanking him for everything he’d ever done. (I wish now that I’d run up and kissed him, too.) Calder took it very well, then continued his bumbling amble, humming all the way down.
Great moments never return, of course. So what we have in this town is the Calder show of now. It could be so much better. You should see it anyway, because even this caged bird sings.
'12 Years a Slave' Oscar winner John Ridley
UPDATE 3/2/2014: John Ridley won an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay for "12 Years a Slace," which also won Best Picture this year.
For KPCC's new iPad app, Off-Ramp host John Rabe sat down with screenwriter and director John Ridley ("Undercover Brother," "Three Kings") to talk about his two new films - "12 Years a Slave" and "All Is by My Side."
Ridley on finding a way to tell a story about Jimi Hendrix that has not been told already:
"I wanted to tell the story about, not just Jimi Hendrix, but the people that were close to him, and the people who were influential to him. I think that with Jimi, his iconography as a person is so overpowering that a lot of times we don't think of him in terms of a person, we don't think about the relationship, we don't think abut his human nature."
Ridley on the pitfalls of making a movie about slavery:
"I think sometimes the dangers are trying to preach to an audience, proselytize. I mean, people go in, unfortunately, and think, 'I know about slavery, I've heard all there is to hear about slavery.' And the reality is that most of us don't really have a concept of that system, of the stories, of the individuals who lived through it."