Just to let all know, I did just post a new entry, but it is below the recent FSFT5, because I wrote it before as a draft, but didn’t post it because I wanted to do revisions. But since I started the draft before my latest FSFT5 it posted it below from the date on which I wrote and saved the draft. You can also read the post here. Thank you.
-The Management
So yes, originally this post series was supposed to be an easy way for me to get through a packed few weeks…see how well that turned out? Anyway, just because the reason has passed, doesn’t mean I’m not going to satisfy your curiosity about my appraisal as Mr. Williams’ work. Same rules apply as before: no “Yoda’s Theme” or “Imperial March,” if the theme is what strikes, it must be referenced within context of a cue. Also no opening theme music or end credit suites, but the music right after or before respectively are fair game. Titles used are off the two disc editions.
1) “The Asteroid Field” – I know I keep referencing old memories when talking about things here, but as many have pointed out, music has a strong impact on memory recall. In reference to this cue, I remember constantly replaying the Asteroid Field level on the Super Nintendo “Super Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back.” Not only is the film my favorite of the franchise, but the game had so many get aspects, and this level was my favourite, trying to navigate your way through the field. One of the reasons I loved it was that it used this cue for the music. The music also reminds me at times of the second movement of Prokofiev’s Fifth Symphony, especially in the woodwind.
2) “The Rebel Fleet” – There is about a minute here of perfect music, in my opinion. Pull out disc two of the set and listen from about 57 seconds in until the end credits come in (which we aren’t talking about), the swell of the music as Luke and Leia say goodbye to Lando and Chewie as they gaze out the window at the galaxy that they’re fighting for. Yes, it’s a “down ending” in that Luke gets his hand chopped out and Han is captured by Boba Fett (thank you Kevin Smith for that analysis), but the music gives one so much hope for the future.
3) “The Clash of Lightsabers” – The first truly great lightsaber duel in the Saga, sure Luke get’s beaten up by Vader hurling stuff at him, sure Vader turns out to be his father…but Williams truly outdoes himself with this cue. The tremolo strings, harp glissandi andbrass hits starting around 30 seconds in, which is just a great arrangement of Vader’s Theme. And of course the cue ends as the picture settles back in on Luke and Vader (after showing us Lando, Leia, and Chewie’s escape from Cloud City).
4) “Lando’s Palace” – The main theme for Cloud City is such a peaceful and buoyant piece of writing, complete with Williams’ trademark glockenspiel that gives it all a nice shimmer. Makes the viewer forget just how dark the whole thing is, but wait…what’s going on here? And that’s the great part about the sequence and cue, it lures us in with the facade of the Cloud City theme only to rip the rug out from under us.
5) “The Battle of Hoth” – Stand by ion control…The first transport is away, the first transport is away. It really is too easy to include this epic fifteen minute cue on the list, but it really is great, and lays so much ground work aurally (and visually, and the editing of the two together) for what will be, in my opinion, the pinnacle of the audio-visual editing of the saga…The Battle of Endor, but that’s for next week. This cue really does so much right, and it shows in that even now, as I’m listening to it, I know exactly what is going on on screen just from listening to the music (the AT-AT walkers are coming into view). That is a sign that the composer was doing his job: the melding of music to image is so complete that one multiplies the effect of the other (I think Kurosawa said something to that effect).
So that’s it for FSF for this week, tune in next time for Return of the Jedi.
Mouthful of a title, I know, but it’s been a long percolating entry. Actually, this topic was almost my paper for my Asian Aesthetics seminar, the paper that become the Kurosawa/Rashomon topic. Anyway, enough prologue, onto the actual post.
For those of you who don’t know, Shinichiro Watanabe is an anime producer/director/creator. He did two short films for The Animatrix (“A Detective Story” and “Kid’s Story”) and also the four episode/film Macross Plus (which I know nothing about), but what he is most well known for are his two anime series: Cowboy Bebop and Samurai Champloo. Two of the most critically acclaimed anime series, though maybe not as well known by the masses as Dragonball, Pokeman, or Naruto, they are quite popular with older fans who appreciate thought and character to go along with scenes of crazy fighting. The other thing that makes them different from the above mentioned series is that they are each only 26 episodes (with Bebop also having a feature film), and within those episodes, they tell a complete story of the main characters.
As a musician, though, they hold another level of interest, and that is the integration of cultural-musico aesthetics into the narrative and soundtrack. Let me explain. Both titles reference a specific type of music that not only sets the tone of the show’s soundtrack, but also informs the personalities and actions of the characters.
Bebop is story of two bounty hunters (also called ‘cowboys’) in a near future trying to scratch out a living in our solar system. Their spaceship is called the ‘Bebop’ and freewheeling lifestyle they live mirrors that of Bebop jazz in the 1940s and 50s. In the opening credits sequences, we see bits and pieces of text projected in the images. The full text reads:
“Once upon a time, in New York City in 1941… at this club open to all comers to play, night after night, at a club named “Minston’s Play House” in Harlem, they play jazz sessions competing with each other. Young jazz men with a new sense are gathering. At last they created a new genre itself. They are sick and tired of the conventional fixed style jazz. They’re eager to play jazz more freely as they wish then… in 2071 in the universe… The bounty hunters, who are gathering in the spaceship “BEBOP”, will play freely without fear of risky things. They must create new dreams and films by breaking traditional styles. The work, which becomes a new genre itself, will be called…Cowboy Bebop.”
So we have not only a declaration of the aesthetics of the characters, but show itself. And Watanabe was creating a genre busting work. Most notable for it’s integration of traditional cel animation and 3D animation, Bebop also mixed styles such as film noir, sci-fi, martial arts films (specifically Hong Kong martial arts films), gangster films, and created a new and unique work.
The soundtrack itself is not limited to ‘bebop’ jazz, but also other jazz styles (including a wonderful ballad called ‘Adieu’ that acts as sort of a memory echo to the main character’s life before), and also classical music (for a Godfather-esque opera house sequence). The episodes themselves are named for either specific works/songs (‘Sympathy for the Devil’ and ‘My Funny Valentine’) or musical styles/forms (‘Ballad of Fallen Angels’ and ‘Heavy Metal Queen’).
Samurai Champloo, on the other hand, takes its cues for hip-hop culture. Unfortunately, there is no manifesto printed in the opening credits, but we can still work things out. ‘Champloo’ here is basically a made up word that is related to the Okinawan word ‘chanpuru,’ which means ‘to mix.’ (At least according to Wikipedia, though some cursory further searching makes me trust it on this.) Essentially what we end up with here is a word meaning ‘remix’ or ‘mashup,’ which is basically what the show does. We have a story which is set in Edo period Japan (the setting of most Japanese samurai/chanbara (also spelled chambara…another possible influence on ‘Champloo’) films. But overlayed with the Edo period setting (1603-1868) are anachronistic elements of rap and hip-hop. The aural track is filled with turntable scratches and the soundtrack itself is written by Japanese hip-hop artists.
The characters themselves are three very distinct personalities that can be seen to have parallels in hip-hop styles, though I don’t know enough to truly comment extensively. Jin is the cool layed-back trained samurai fighter and is the refined one. Mugen is more forceful, quick to react, slow to think, and is angry at the world (with a troubled past). His fighting style reflects this, and almost looks like breakdancing at times. And Fuu, the young girl who brings the two men together to help her in a quest, is just bubbly school-girl age type that we see in much anime, though the character adds depth as the show progresses, and we learn about her reasons for wanting to find the “samurai who smells of sunflowers.” If anything, generally, we can see the three streams culture: the refined, the reactionary, and the commercial.
Going along with the ‘mashup’ concept, we do actually have hip-hop culture breaking into the Edo Period. We have a character in one episode rapping while a flunky accompanies him with beatbox, and graffiti/tagging among others. Part of this can be read as an extreme form of the growing Western influence in Japan in the late Edo Period (which is characterized by the shutting of Japanese ports and insulating its culture, with the exception of limited contacts and trading with Holland). A period that ended when American warships forced the fading Tokugawa Shogunate to reopen their ports to Western traders. The whole thing is much more complicated that that, but this suits fine for blogs.
To brings things to a close, here, I’ll just summarize what’s I’ve posted. In both Cowboy Bebop and Samurai Champloo, the titles themselves gives one the basic idea of the show. It gives the character types (cowboys and samurai) and the guiding musical aesthetic that also informs the characters (bebop and champloo/mashup). In this way Watanabe integrates not only musical aesthetics, but also the culture that created them into his anime series.
We’re sorry, but your call has been forwarded to an automated…
Wait, Wait! I’m here…I’m here.
Thanks for bearing with me these past few weeks. I had to teach two Continuing Ed classes back to back. Which actually leads me to today’s post/question. The classes I taught are part of the department’s Saturday “Personal Enrichment” classes. Basically, I get up there are talk about something for five hours to a class interested in learning about whatever topic it is. I taught one on Beethoven and another on the Beatles on two consecutive Saturdays. I had wanted to do something on Film Music but ContEd wasn’t sure there would be interest. I plan on pitching them an idea and I’m hoping for some feed back on a very basic outline I have in my head.
First, remember, I have only five hours, so the first task is deciding what is the purpose of the class. For me, I think it would be to not only teach people about composers and history, but also how to listento films, which would be the title: [Insert Witty Title Here] – Listening to Films. So I figure the first hour would be spent covering some basic theoretical ideas (diegetic/non-diegetic, levels within audiotrack), and hopefully using the model that I discussed in my MAMI wrap up, and showing clips to illustrate the points. I would also hopefully bring in some ideas from the works of Chion, Gorbman, and Brown. The next two hours could be spent doing the basic historical work, tracing developments from the Silent Era to the present (Herr Vogler gave me a good outline that will probably serve me in planning), of course illustrated by more clips.
After an hour for lunch, we come back for the last two hours. Ideally here, I would like to show a short film or extended clip, somewhere in the range of 30-45 mins, maybe an hour, from which the last hour of class would be a discussion of it, what people heard, etc. Of course, showing such a long clip may seem like a cop out, but if the point of the class is to teach people how to listen to a film, it seems like a perfectly logical choice.
There seemed to be some interest in such a class from the people in my Beethoven class. I teased them with some ideas by showing clips from Die Hardand showing how the “Ode to Joy” is associated with the German villains of the film. So hopefully if ContEd asks me back to teach more, and I can pitch them such a class. What are your thoughts, oh Blog0sphere readers?
P.S. – I promise a more in-depth post soon. I’m working on my musical aesthetic analysis of the soundtracks of Shinichiro Watanabe’s animes Cowboy Bebop and Samurai Champloo.
The Temp Track is going to go on a short break for about week. Yours truly is teaching a few courses in the coming weeks and needs to do prep work. But do not fret, only saying goodbye for a short while.
So, time for another special three week countdown here at the Temp Track. Partially due to my being busy the next couple weeks, and just plum out of ideas at the time, I’ll be counting down my top 5 cues from each of the original Star Wars films, scored by Mr. John Williams. A few rules to begin with: 1) I’m discounting the opening title theme just because it is too obvious, but not the music immediately following it; 2) Likewise I’m also nixing the end credit suites, but not the music leading into them; and 3) No individual themes, I’m doing cues, not themes (so no just “Imperial March,” but this does not discount cues involving said themes, of course).
For the names of the cues, I’m using the track listings from the two disc releases from a few years ago that are still available. So, let’s go to the tape:
1) “The Hologram/Binary Sunset”: I’ve got to give it up to this cue, while not the first instance of the Force motif in the film, that occurs in “Imperial Attack,” it is used here to underscore one of the most powerful and iconic images in the film series: Luke gazing at the sunset over Tatooine and contemplating his future. As mentioned in an earlier post, it is also here where in the “Blue Harvest” episode of Family Guy that Chris Griffin turns to the camera and says “John Williams and the London Symphony Orchestra!” When I teach a course on film music, you can be sure that I’m going to show that clip. Oh, we also have appearances in this cue of Leia’s theme and the main theme.
2) “The Dune Sea of Tatooine/Jawa Sandcrawler”: For starters, I remember from an early age thinking that “The Dune Sea of Tatooine” portion of this cue sounded like Rite of Spring, and while I’ve never done a side-by-side comparison, I’m pretty sure there is more than a little similarity, especially the opening wind solos. But the Jawa portion is pretty genius, Williams really does capture the nature of the strange scavengers quite well, and it blends quite effectively with the “Dune Sea” portion due to its use of winds (especially the double reeds, not to mention the tuba solos).
3) “Cantina Band” (Both tracks): These songs might just be the best piece of diegetic music ever written specifically for a film, and really, I kind of like the second one more than the first. Sure, everyone knows the first one, but how many people really notice the second song that starts playing as Han sits down to talk with Luke and Obi-wan? Well, I’m sure the readers of this blog do, but how many others?
4) “Ben Kenobi’s Death/Tie Fighter Attack”: When I hear this cue, I always hear Han yelling to Luke, “Blast the door kid!” See, back in the early days of CD-Rom tech, Microsoft had a program called Cinemania that was kind of like IMDB before the Internet really became the “The Information Superhighway.” In this program were a few select clips for a few films, including Star Wars, and the clip from it started towards the end of Obi-Wan and Vader’s duel, and ends right as Han tells Luke to shoot the door controls. And the cue for the Tie battle I can always hear because it was used over and over in the computer game X-Wing and Super Star Wars for the old Super Nintendo. Oh, and the music is pretty great too.
5) “The Throne Room”: I always have a weird feeling when watching the end scene of the film because this cue gives me a sense of unease. I can’t explain it, but after the initial fanfare, I always expect that something is going bad is going to happen because of the pervading minor key, the march feeling, and timpani hits. Of course, then the music changes to major as Leia gives them their medals, Chewie growls, R2D2 appears all shiny and new, and the universe is saved…at least until The Empire Strikes Back is released three years later.
But you won’t have to wait three years for my top 5 favorite cues from Empire. Just tune in next Friday.
So one huge thing that came out of my recent trip to New York is a renewed interest in the sound design/auraltrack in the films of Akira Kurosawa. My initial research came in the Fall 2008 semester for my Asian Aesthetics paper, then I later presented a revised version of that paper at a local AMS meeting, and then revised it again and submitted it to an academic writing competition within the College of Music and won. In other words, I’ve gotten some good mileage from the paper. I’ve toyed around with the idea of it as a dissertation topic, but just one among many. After NYC and the panel on sound design I went to (read more here at The Temp Track), I got started thinking more about it. On my last full day in New York, I wandered into a bookstore and picked up four books on Kurosawa (three of which I had used in my paper), and I’ve already read two of them (including his wonderful autobiography Something Like an Autobiography). These books have only increased my interest. I’ve also watched five more Kurosawa films since I’ve returned, and I could say something on each one of them in terms of sound design.
Kurosawa is so meticulous in crafting how sound and music are used, and unlike most Hollywood productions, he did the bulk of the work himself (something he learned how to do in his days working as an assistant director). I hope to have viewed all his films by the end of the summer (something which is largely possible, but his four early films made towards the tail end of WWII might prove a bit troublesome to track down, everything else I either own or can be had in the school’s library or ordered from another library in our lending system), so I will know more about his work as a whole.
Just some quick thoughts that are on my mind.
AKA 3 Days and 27 Papers Later…
It’s hard summarize a conference, even if it was on the concentrated topic of “Music and the Moving Image.” So I’ll start in broad terms: it was a good experience for me in many way, I heard many great papers, and listening to other scholars in the field speak has given me confidence in my own research. And even though my shy nature kept me from asking many questions and talking to everyone there, I was able to force myself to talk to a few and very much enjoyed the brief conversations I did have. In short, I definitely want to go back next year, and hopefully I can present this time (I did submit for this year, and will do so again for next year). But even if I’m not presenting, I would still like to go if possible.
Anyway, I’ll discuss briefly two of the 27 papers I heard. First is Matt Young’s “Who is the Iron Man?: Establishing Identity in Comic Book Films.” Unfortunately I didn’t take notes on this one, but I remember most of it. Basically, Mr. Young’s paper dealt with how the identity of the hero is constructed in a superhero film, both in terms of plot and music, but goes on to discuss how the establishment of the heroic identity is frustrated in the recent film Iron Man, directed by Jon Favreau (who is so money and doesn’t even know it…sorry, just had to quote Swingers there).
This establishment is three fold: first a music theme is tied to the hero (usual during the opening credits sequence), the hero states their new identity (the “I’m Batman” moment), and that identity is recognized by the media. Obviously much discussion was made about the music itself, but he did discuss the other two also, but I’ll only discuss the musical aspect here. The musical establishment function is undermined from the start, not only is there no opening credit sequence, the film immediately opens in the Afghani desert to the sound of wind. After the establishing shot, we are greeted to AC/DC’s “Back in Black,” which is exactly not the song one would expect to hear (which would have been Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man,” which had been prominetely featured in the film’s ad campaign). When, after the lengthy exposition, we finally do have a title card, there is no music, but rather just the sound of metal striking metal, and we hear Jeff Bridge’s character say “Tony Stark,” dialogue bleeding in from the next scene. Young makes the point that our hearing Stark’s name mentioned over the “Iron Man” title card further weakens the heroic identity, something further achieved by the many denials of the existence of Iron Man by the army and others.
Iron Man himself has no solid musical identity in the film, but rather is accompanied by guitar riffs and other industrial sounds in the soundtrack, while Tony Stark does have a theme (which Young pointed out was taken from the theme song of the old Iron Man cartoon), this theme is even played diegetically as the ring tone on Rhodes mobile phone. Young further more establishes that all three of the identity establishing motives come at the very end of the film. First we see the name “Iron Man” printed in the media, then Stark, in the last line of the film, states that “I am Iron Man,” and as the credits begin to roll, we are greeted by our long sought for Black Sabbath song (of which, of course, the opening line is “I am Iron Man,” but Favreau chooses to start the song after that line, and actually edits the snippet we do here so that there are no sung lyrics). All in all, an interesting reading of the film’s use of music, and one that shows that even when a film’s score isn’t the best, how it functions within it still can be a worthwhile investigation.
The other paper I want to discuss came during a panel that was devoted to sound design in film. First James Wierzbicki of the University of Michigan discussed design in six early films of Hitchcock (sometimes called the “Thriller” Sextet), and the third paper was from Liz Greene, who actually works in the industry along with teaching, discussed the work of Alan Splet. But it is Juan Chattah’s paper “Defying Sound Design Convention: A Model for Analysis” that I would like to discuss briefly.
What Chattah has done is lay out a very clear system and terms for talking about sound design, one that I touched on in my post on Diegetic and Non-Diegetic and shifts between them. But even though people have talked about these shifts and moves in the aural space, what Chattah has done is to lay out a consistent way of speaking about them (and there was discussion afterwards about the very use of terms ‘diegetic’ and ‘non-diegetic,’ which I believe were first applied by Claudia Gorbman in Unheard Melodies, though I’m not sure, but that’s neither here nor there). In short, Chattah calls the “Diegetic” and “Non-Diegetic” space “Fields” and then within each field you have three separate “planes”: the voice (dialogue), music, and noise. He then outlined three ways in which sounds can shift or interact between fields and planes. First is Overlap (in which two elements of the same planes interact between fields, for which he used the final scene of “The Conversation” as an example, a film that came up many times in various papers), second is Replacement (music replaces noise is one example), and then Transference (which can happen as music moves between fields, but also in other ways, noise shifting to music, but a move between fields is necessary…I think).
A very interesting talk, and I’ll have to be on the look out for him publishing the system, it could come in handy down the road. I also heard two separate papers on the use of Wagner in John Boorman’s Excaliber, sound and music in two films by Michael Hanake, two papers on use of sound and musique concrete in Gus van Sant, and another on Ne0-Surrealism and the MTV aesthetic in Richard Linklater’s Waking Life.
In review, a great conference, and I would recommend if you are at all interested in film and media music to check it out. The site for the conference is here and you can actually still look at the abstracts for this year’s conference. Keep a look out on the site, I think the call for papers will go out around September or so.
Okay, I know I’ve promised a post summarizing my recent trip to NYC, but it’s been a long week. I hope to have that up this weekend sometime. But as teased last week, I’m devoting this edition of FSFT5 to my top 5 from Nobuo Uematsu’s score for Final Fantasy VI, which is among the classics of video game scores in my humble opinion.
Some background, first, though. The Final Fantasy series is one of the longest running in the video game industry with the thirteenth edition of the franchise coming out soon for the PS3. It has also inspired numerous spin-offs and companion series on other consoles (such as the Final Fantasy Legend games on the Game Boy, though those are technically part of another franchise from the same company, but only in Japan…I won’t try to explain it here), but it is the core series which was score entirely by Uematsu for the first 9 installments, and the next 4 with various collaborators, that are nigh legend amongst many vg music fans.
The game at hand, FFVI, was released state side in 1994 as Final Fantasy III due to the fact that parts II, III, and V were not released in the US until long after the seventh installment exploded on the PS1 console. The game itself involves around 50 hours of gameplay (pretty standard among RPGs of the era), and Uematsu’s score, when released on CD, took up 3 discs. The score is made up of individual themes for all the major characters and settings of the game, with certain cues only appearing during key plot moments in the game. If you want more info on the game itself, check out the Wikipedia article.
My own personal history with the game does merit mentioning. I got it when it released in 1994, and was captivated by the music, especially the fact that the game actually featured a 30 minute opera about 20% of the way in in which the player has to participate. I didn’t beat the game, though, until years later in the fall of 2000 when I took my Super Nintendo back with me to college and set out to beat it. If you’re a fan of game music, I really do recommend tracking down the soundtrack collection. With a bit of persistence, you can find many vg music dealers stateside who sell it for a reasonable price. Many cues, including the entire opera sequence, have been performed and recorded with live performers with varying levels of success.
On to the list:
1) Celes’ Theme/’Aria de Mezzo Carrattere’ – Even though Celes is not THE main character, her theme is the one that has haunted me for all these years. The theme is used most stirringly as the aria in the opera, which Celes has to sing. The aria itself, called ‘Aria de Mezzo Carattere,’ has been recorded numerous times in various forms (I even arranged it for bassoon trio). I’ll give you two versions here: first a video of the sequence taken from Game Boy Advanced re-release, the instruments don’t sound as good as the original on Super Nintendo, but thankfully the synth voice sounds much, much better…
and secondly the version from the disc release Final Fantasy VI: Grand Finale which is a live performance of the aria…
2) Kefka’s Theme/Dancing Mad – Kefka is the main baddie of the game, starting off as just a merely annoying general, he develops into a megalomanical clown bent on destroying the world. Yes, I said clown, he basically looks like one. The final battle with Kefka is accompanied by a battle track called Dancing Mad that on the soundtrack release lasts almost 18 minutes. I’m including it as part of this selection because the middle section of it is based on Kefka’s theme. Here’s is the original theme as released originally…
and as a special treat, here is ‘Dancing Mad’ as played by Uematsu’s heavy metal/prog rock band The Black Mages which plays covers of his music. It’s split into two parts because it’s over 10 minutes long, and the max length on YouTube is 10 minutes…
I just love this version, it captures the epic nature of the song, the wicked organ solo (which is in the original version), plus it has some great guitar solo work. And yes, that is Uematsu on keys.
3) Slam Shuffle (aka Zozo city theme) – I’ve got to admit that as a kid, this was the first theme to really stick in my head. It’s got a great beat and hook to it, plus the city of Zozo, with its urban decay and seedy characters is one of the most memorable locales in the game.
4) Phantom Train – Played during a specific sequence in which our heroes have to battle their way through a haunted train, this bass heavy, plodding sort of waltz, is a great piece that ultimately bares a strong resemblance to the character Shadow’s theme (number 5 on the list) in terms of tonality, meter, and overall sound (at least accompaniment).
5) Shadow’s Theme – My childhood friend would probably tell me that is the best part of the game, but oh well. The mysterious Shadow was captured perfectly with the equally enigmatic theme, who’s whistling harkens back to Morricone’s ‘Whistling Theme’ from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.
There are 14 playable characters in the game, and along with Kefka, there are 15 identifiable themes for chracters, along with many, many, many other themes that go with specific locations and/or situations in the game. Choosing only five can’t really do the score justice, really. The other truly impressive cue from the game is the ‘Ending Theme,’ which is over 20 minuts long. It accompanies the ending sequece and credits and includes all the playable charcter themes, and many others. In many ways, knowing this massive ending lay ahead was what drove me to beat the game.
Not sure what next week will be, but if you have suggestions/requests just let me know.
I have a love hate relationship with New York City. On the one hand, I love the convenience, how close everything is, the public transit – a definite advantage for one with a driving record like mine. On the other hand, I hate the crowds.
I’m in New York attending a conference on film music at New York University, which is located by Washington Square Park which is right around Greenwich Village. It’s an amazing part of the city, and the park is a wonderful place, beautiful fountain (appealing to a boy from Kansas City, MO), an American version of the Arc de Triomphe (the Washington Square Arch), vendors, musicians, old men playing chess, everything you see in the movies and episodes of Law and Order (actually, on Friday, they were filming something in park, wouldn’t be surprised if it was some episode of Law and Order and someone playing the role of Corpse #2).
Anyway, Saturday morning I come in for the morning session starting at 9:30 and there is almost no one around, it’s very quiet and peaceful, and I think to myself, “Ya, I could get used to this. It’s nice.” But around noon, there is a huge street festival going on, and by the end of the evening sessions at 6, the place is packed, and all I can think of is, “I’ve got to get out of here!”
If you know me well, you’ll know that I don’t handle crowds at all. Case in point is this conference; I didn’t go to the opening reception thing because I didn’t know anyone, and all I would’ve done is stand around and not talk to anyone. Well now imagine thousands of people, and my anxiety multiplied. I wouldn’t exactly say I have agoraphobia, I don’t really suffer from full on panic attacks (okay, maybe once I had one…but only once), but if there is a mild form, then that is how I might describe it. I just don’t handle large crowds, I don’t deal well with new people all that well, I don’t mingle well at parties with people I don’t know, and I don’t really go up to people and start conversations (though a couple times at the conference I will talk to people who have presented and say how I liked there paper and so on).
I need the wide open spaces of the plains, where the population density is lower, where the world has a chance to breath. Yes, the city is exciting, and walking through the park, or standing in the subway, surrounded by the sounds of people, musicians, the rhythmic clanking of the subways as they pull into and out of the stations…and the unearthly quiet when there are no trains, and you realize that almost no one is talking…it is intoxicating to the aural senses. Sitting here in my friends place writing, I can hear the sound of a block party going on, Latin music playing, people talking, the DJ talking over the music, the soundtrack to our existence. And the car horns! Oh my god, the car horns. On my way back to my friend’s place in Brooklyn, I walk through the intersection of 4th and 6th, and tonight it was really busy. One person honks, than another, and another, and before you know it, everyone is honking but not a single car is moving! How we humans strive against the futile.
The other thing is that riding the subway, walking around, it really does give me appreciation to the unspoken social contract under which society, and civilization, operates. In some ways, it is truly amazing how humanity survives and organizes itself. We have laws and rules, yes, but those are merely manifestations for that social contract: you don’t mess with me, I don’t mess with you. And you realize just how fragile the whole construct is. The genre of science fiction is filled with ruminations of what might happen if something exposes or upsets that construct (be it war, famine, disease, etc.). And we have examinations on both sides, either society actually comes together or it falls apart completely – or the variant where it falls apart or almost does and some totalitarian regime steps in and takes over.
And how many times in sci-fi have we seen these collapses of society represented by shots of empty streets or abandoned cars in New York? Well, to go from the City that Never Sleeps to one of eternal slumber is among the most striking images available to science fiction. But I’ve seemed to have strayed from my topic: NYC and Me.
Sitting here in my friend’s apartment in Brooklyn (and I’m sorry, but every time I think or say that word, I just hear Spot Conlon in Newsies scream “Brooklyn!” or say, “Never fear, Brooklyn is here.”), listening to the sounds of the city, I just can’t help but wonder about our society. I have this romantic notion of some apocalypse that’ll leave most of the cities intact, and either some distant future intelligent race that evolves – or aliens, who knows – will find them and wonder just who we were, what happened to us. Maybe it’s growing up with too much sci-fi, but these are the things I think about.
