WAIT, WHERE'S
FINDING A PLACE FOR HANUKAH PAGE 4B.
GUIDES TO FINAL PAPERS AND HEADING HOME PAGE 3B.
B
THE MICHIGAN DAILY
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2006
Christmas,
in album
form
Whether or not it's just an
illusion caused by age
and cynicism, it seems
like holiday madness is beginning
earlier and earlier every year. I
heard Bing Crosby's ubiquitous
"White Christmas" on November
first this year, and I'm not OK
with that. Now, I'm not really one
for Christmas music anyway. For
the most part, it reeks of crass
commercialism and a quick cash-
in. That said, it
doesn't have to
be inherently
bad - there
are still a few
Christmas
albums that I
start to dust off
each December
that stir up the LLOYD H.
same excite-
ment for the
holiday season
I had when I was a child. And if
we're going to be bombarded with
Christmas music for two months,
then here are five albums we
ought to be listening to.
The first record I always reach
for that glorious morning when
the city wakes up to a layer of
fresh white powder is also prob-
ably the most universally known
and loved on this list. In fact, if
Vince Guaraldi's A Charlie Brown
Christmas doesn't make you smile,
then you might not have a pulse.
An instant classic as soon as it
was released in 1965, the album
hasn't lost an ounce of relevance.
Not only do songs like "Skating"
and "Linus and Lucy" evoke the
joyous rush of everything grand
about Christmas, but they've also
served as an introduction to jazz
for youngsters for decades. The
light but complex layers of percus-
sion on "Christmastime is Here"
and Guaraldi's lyrical tinkling
on "What Child is This?" belie
the same innocence and humor
that makes Peanuts so timeless,
and the level of musicianship
make this an album you can enjoy
whether you're 6 or 60.
The New Possibility: John
Fahey's Guitar Soli Christmas
Album offers further proof that
simplicity beats schmaltz any day
of the week. Unwieldy title aside,
one of the true innovators in
acoustic guitar music turns in an
album full of mellow and plaintive
takes on Christmas classics on
this 1968 LP. In most hands a solo
acoustic guitar album, let alone
one full of Christmas tunes, spells
out b-o-r-i-n-g, but Fahey man-
ages to fingerpick his way through
familiar melodies interestingly
enough to make this much more
than background music.
on the total other side of the
spectrum is A Christmas Giftfor
You from PhilSpector, an album
allmusic.com calls "inarguably
the greatest Christmas record of
all time" - a designation I cer-
tainly couldn't dispute. Way back
before the murder allegations and
goofy fro wig, Spector was the boy
genius behind the "wall of sound."
This is (arguably) the greatest
producer of all time at the peak of
his considerable powers, and the
performances he coaxes from his
stable of artists (The Ronettes,
Crystals, Darlene Love and Bob
B. Soxx & the Blue Jeans) are pop
masterpieces that capture the
quintessence and grandeur of
Christmas spirit.
As great as A Christmas Gift
for You is, it's not my favorite
Christmas compilation. That title
easily goes to Atco's (an Atlantic
Records subsidiary) Soul Christ-
mas, a 1968 LP worth tracking
down for Otis Redding's sublime
takes on "White Christmas" and
"Merry Christmas, Baby" alone.
See CARGO, page 2B
mLST
0 Dec 7 to 10
The Daily Arts
guide to the
best upcom-
ing events - it's
everywhere you
should be this
week and why.
pi
arlier in the week over coffee, some
where between our usual friendl:
banter and highbrow criticism, m
tradition-obsessed friend caught me of
guard when I slipped in the topic of abstract
expressionism. One mention of Pollock and i
was all downhill.
"There's just no sense of struggle in hi:
work," she told me. "Anyone could do the
same thing."
1 1e ant , ia I didn't even try to decipher her presumes
e ep an , V meaning of struggle in the context of Jackso
Pollock's famous drip paintings, but I knev
Jackson Potlock? we'd have to agree to disagree.
Pollock abandoned his drip paintings afte
just three years in 1950, but they undoubtedl:
remain his most influential pieces and repre.
sent his trademark style. But like my friend
some argue anyone could replicate his work.
Daily Arts W riter Why non-believers still exist I don't knows
but I have a hard time imagining a Polloc]
emerging from a summer-camp crafts room
Throwing paint around on a canvas the size
of a kitchen floor might sound haphazard an:
PUELo:*.
slightly primitive - in the vaguest sense of
the word - but it wasn't just the technique
itself that initially drew crowds and critics
to his work. Like Marcel Duchamp and his
ready-mades, or Barnett Newman's vertical
lines, Pollock created something new. He was
an innovator. Even if you can't appreciate the
final product, try to accept the fact that in the
world of modern art, new often means great.
Whether it's a new mediumbeing explored
or the start of a technological revolution, the
first one to call it "art" is generally assumed
(and revered) as a creative pioneer. Imita-
tions rarely make the cut.
Pollock is hardly your typical trailblazer.
Earlier this fall a Pollock drip painting was
sold for $140 million, making it the single
most expensive painting in the world. For
that kind of cash, there must be more to the
story.
A popular website, www.jacksonpollock.
org, lets you create your very own Pollock,
digitally and with little "struggle," as my
friend would say. With the click and drag of
your mouse, you can personally transform a
stark white computer-screen canvas into a
work of art - or can you? What is it abouta
Pollock that gives it that certain something?
According to Richard Taylor, physics pro-
fessor at the University of Oregon, recurring
fractal patterns can be found in Pollock's
paintings through computer analysis. A
fractal is a curve or geometric figure that
occurs in repeating patterns in progres-
sively smaller scales; fractals are often seen
in nature, such as with tree roots and snow-
flakes. Taylor's work was used to test the
authenticity of several anonymous works,
thought by some to be Pollock's own. After
publishing his data, Taylor was met with hot
dispute.
Katherine Jones-Smith, another physi-
cist, used Taylor's scientific methods to ana-
lyze simple, child-like drawings she made
herself on an Adobe software program.
To the surprise of many, her rudimentary
See POLLOCK, Page 2B
The search for Mel Gibson's elusive Apocalypto'
By PAUL TASSI
Daily Arts Writer
Six days I've been on this perilous
river in the Yucatan Peninsula. Finally
we've reached the mouth of Mel Gib-
son's Inner Sanctum where the final
scenes of his latest film were to be shot.
My crew and I have been sent from Los
Angeles to try and reestablish contact
with Mel. Nobody's seen or heard from
him in months. The studio needs us to
get the final cut of "Apocalypto," which
was supposed to be finished by now. It
needs to be mass-produced for wide
release and there's little time left. The
boat coasts slowly toward the shore.
There is a small wooden dock and lin-
ing the beach are what appear to be
extras from the movie, still clad in full
war regalia. Behind them, an ancient
Mayan pyramid rises up, enshrouded
by a thick fog.
As the dock gets nearer I can see a
man pacing around on the wooden
planks. He is tall, lanky and his pants
don't quite reach his ankles. His plaid
patchwork jacket and his frizzed, erect
hair make him look like a harlequin.
The boat touches the dock and I step
out. Before I even open my mouth he
shouts out a "Hey buddy!" I tell him
I need to see Mel Gibson. He puts his
hand out in front of my face, looks me
in the eye and his head appears to con-
vulse in a seizure. "Wh-wh-wh-whoa!
You're freaking me out, man! Nobody
can see Mr. Gibson, least of all nobody
who keeps company with, you know..."
He shakes his hand toward the direc-
tion of one of my dark-skinned crew-
mates.
"Come on, man, that's not cool," I
say. "I just need to talk to him."
He leans forward and whispers in
my ear, "You know he's a great man
don't you? He came and helped me
when they were all against me!" I nod
my head slowly; his breath is a mix of
papaya and pipe smoke.
A voice comes booming down from
the stairs enshrouded by fog. "Kramer,
it's all right. Send him up."
Kramer looks first at me, then back
to my crewman, but suddenly pivots
around on the heel of his loafers and
shakes his hand toward the stairs. "G-
g-giddy up then!" I move past the silent,
menacing film extras. They clutch
their spears a little tighter. The stairs
are ancient and crumbling. It seems an
eternity to the top of the pyramid, but
finally I arrive.
The fog around me has all but dis-
sipated. I can see Mel Gibson clearly
now, sitting in a large stone throne.
His hair and beard have grown wild
and there's either paint, blood or guano
smeared around his face and body. He
is stripped to the waist and clutches a
feathered spear in one hand. Around
him the extras playing natives sway
in a kind of ambient reverence. I move
a few steps closer towards him on the
plateau of the pyramid. He smells
like whiskey and bat shit. I guess it is
guano. The look in his eye doesn't seem
entirely human. He stares past me out
into the jungle.
"Mel," I say, trying to get his atten-
tion. "Mel Gibson!" I snap my fingers.
His eyes jerk left into mine.
"Oh, hello." His voice is a great deal
calmer than I imagined it would be.
"Mel, what are you doing out here?"
Courtesy
See GIBSON, Page 4B We couldn't have shot it better ourselves. Good work, Mel.
ON STAGE
Accomplished poets Ross Gay
and Patrick Rosal will perform at
the University Unions Arts & Pro-
grams' latest poetry slam event
"Slam Therefore I Am." The event,
which is just $3, starts at 8:30 p.m.
tonight at the Michigan Union. Gay's
poetry appeared in American Poetry
Review and Atlanta Review. Rosal
is the author of "Uprock Headspin
Scramble and Dive" and is winner of
the Asian-American Writers' Work-
shop Member's Choice Award.
AT UMMA
Following Mary Lucifer's exhibit
"The Plains of Sweet Regret," the
University Museum of Art's Off-Site
is now presenting English landscape
photographer Michael Kenna and
his series "The Rouge: Photographs
by Michael Kenna," running through
Jan. 14. The Rouge is a manufactur-
ing plant in Dearborn (which Kenna
made several trips to since 1992), and
so the industrial imagery will offer
a nice contrast to Lucifer's video
installations of rural America.
ON STAGE
Groove, the highly skilled stu-
dent version of Broadway's Stomp
will perform tomorrow night at
7:30 p.m. at The Michigan The-
ater. Tickets are a mere $5 and are
on sale now through Ticketmaster
and at the door. The event is titled
"Thunderdump" (previous perfor-
mances include "Weapons of Mass
Percussion"), so you know it's going
to be badass. Look for tightly cho-
reographed skits and quips in the
vein of Blue Man Group.
ON SCREEN
Looking for a buffer to the holi-
day cheer and the "Black Christmas"
remake isn't your bag? The State
Theater has you covered. Be part of
its famous Midnight Movies series
Saturday as the theater screens "Bad
Santa," the mildly blasphemous 2003
comedy that also happens to be one
of the funniest films of the past few
years. See Billy Bob Thornton do his
best fuck-it-give-me-a-drink antihe-
ro and Bernie Mac do ... well, Bernie
Mac. Good times for all.
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