5 —Friday, February 27, 2015
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
‘Parks and Rec’ has
a fitting series finale
MUSIC NOTEBOOK
By CLAIRE WOOD
For The Daily
I never thought howling
could be so sexy.
Three
minutes
and
six
seconds into Maroon 5’s latest
release
“Animals,”
however,
teen heartthrob Adam Levine
successfully proves me wrong,
letting out a wolf-cry that
makes girls squeal from Cali to
Colorado. It’s hot, animalistic,
carnal and — fortunately for
the band — rakes in over 157
million hits on YouTube.
But let’s backtrack.
“Sunday morning / Rain is
falling / Steal some covers /
Share some skin.”
It’s classic Maroon 5: Adam
Levine’s velvet vocals over
mellow
piano.
Their
first
album, 2002’s Songs About
Jane, defines their character.
“Harder to Breathe” and “This
Love” overlap plugged guitar
with strong vocals. Or consider
my
heart-melting
favorite
“She Will Be Loved.” Gentle
percussion
backing
smooth
voice, Levine has us all at the
first line. “Beauty queen of only
18” — and, let’s be honest, we’re
all wishing it was us.
It’s this style — catchy,
yet sophisticated — that we
dig. It’s real music with real
instruments, from the snazzy
percussion of “The Sun” to
the tame piano of “Sunday
Morning.” This self-confident,
genuine quality keeps the fans
hooked.
This
authenticity
defines the band.
Then 2011 rolled around, and
BOOM: “Moves Like Jagger”
happens.
Believe me when I say I didn’t
see it coming either — Levine
took us all by surprise with that
one. It’s catchy, enticing, and
… not Maroon 5. We’re taken
aback. In “Moves Like Jagger,”
the old jams of Songs About Jane
erupt into pulsing percussion,
pop verses and high-energy
whistling.
This, however, is just the
start. As single after single
is released, Levine sheds his
old identity. “Daylight” boasts
electronic
instrumentals.
“Payphone”
features
high
vocals, incessant beats and
Wiz Khalifa. With their most
recent
release,
“Animals,”
Adam
Levine
makes
the
transformation complete with
a bestial howl at the work’s
climax.
Confession? I miss the old
Adam. The real guitar, gentle
piano, jazzy beats — I found
it all rather classy, which just
made everything sexier in my
eyes. But that’s just me talking,
and — based on the popularity
of their recent releases — it
seems that new-and-improved
Maroon 5 isn’t doing so bad.
Can we blame them for the
transformation?
Not
really.
While the old-time hit “Sunday
Morning” scored 54 million
Youtube
views,
Maroon
5’s latest, pop-ified release
“Animals” has raked in over
double that.
The brutal truth is that times
change. People don’t want the
same thing forever. Artists
morph
alongside
shifting
consumer tastes. Where would
we be without a little change in
music, anyway? Just think — if
preferences didn’t change, we
might still be stuck in the ‘70s
(shudders in terror). Top 40
hits tailor to please the popular
majority,
i.e.
the
teenage
population; thus, pop songs
have to pop. They’re played
at frat parties and bars. John
Lennon’s “Imagine” is a real
work of art, but it’s certainly
not your first choice to get
people pumped at the Saturday-
morning tailgate. “She Will
Be Loved” is the same way:
gorgeous, relaxing and just not
what people are looking for.
Teens want something that’s
vibrant, hot, electrifying. And
with the band’s transformation,
Maroon 5 give them just that.
After seven seasons,
beloved comedy
comes to an end
By ALEX INTNER
Daily Arts Writer
Tuesday night marked the end
of an era at NBC. That evening,
we said goodbye to the last of the
network’s niche,
quality
com-
edies that have
defined its pro-
gramming
for
the past several
years. “30 Rock,”
“Community”
and
“Parent-
hood” survived for much longer
than they normally would have
due to NBC’s perpetually low rat-
ings. Ending its run this week, the
brilliant “Parks and Recreation”
left us with a beautiful finale that
gave us insight into the charac-
ters’s futures and allowed us to
say goodbye to one of the all-time
greatest comedies on television.
The “Parks” finale followed
the former members of the Paw-
nee Parks Department as they
worked to complete “one last job”
by fixing a broken swing. As they
went through the process, Leslie
Knope (Amy Poehler, “Saturday
Night Live”) had a final moment
with each core ensemble charac-
ter, then flashed forward to detail
each character’s definitive end.
Donna (Retta, “Drunk His-
tory”) moved to Seattle with Joe
(Keegan-Michael Key, “Key &
Peele”) and started a nonprofit
to help finance education. Craig
(Billy Eichner, “Billy on the
Street”) married Typhoon and
grew old with him. Jerry (Jim
O’Heir, “Strip Mall”) lives hap-
pily as mayor until age 100. April
(Aubrey Plaza, “Safety Not Guar-
anteed”) has a child with Andy
(Chris Pratt, “Guardians of the
Galaxy”). Tom’s (Aziz Ansari,
“Human Giant”) restaurant goes
under and he writes a best-selling
book about his failures. Ron (Nick
Offerman, “Children’s Hospital”)
becomes the superintendent of
the Pawnee National Park — and
our endearing Leslie becomes the
governor of Indiana with Ben’s
(Adam Scott, “Party Down”) sup-
port. She is finally one step closer
to her presidential dream.
This
episode
did
exactly
what all series finales should:
It reminded viewers about why
they followed — dedicated them-
selves — to the show for so long.
The hour never lost track of the
warm sentimentality that made
the show great. The entire idea
of the finale was built upon how
much these characters truly love
one another, and especially how
much Leslie cares about each of
them. It was simply another epi-
sode, without any gimmicks that
made the show feel like it was
something it wasn’t — just a piece
fit for the final run.
What really made this episode
special were the little moments
within the flash-forwards. One
of the best was the return of Ann
(Rashida Jones, “The Office”)
and Chris (Rob Lowe, “The West
Wing”), allowing us to check
in with characters we still care
about, even after they left Paw-
nee (even if it did lead to Ron
bashing the University of Michi-
gan). What made the scene was
Poehler’s delighted delivery of
“Ann’s here!” before running up
to hug her. Another favorite was
Ron out on the lake in a beauti-
fully composed sequence and
location. There was also Jerry’s
100th birthday party, giving the
often-bashed character one last
chance to celebrate. “Parks” had
several landmark moments over
the course of its long run (like
the Harvest Festival in the third
season), but what really built the
show were the commonplace
interactions between these char-
acters. The finale was able to
honor that with small character
notes of its own.
It’s fitting that “Parks and Rec-
reation” closes this particular
chapter of NBC programming.
The show survived for seven sea-
sons mostly because NBC had
other problems to fix. This little
show ran its course naturally,
creating episodes that were man-
aged to be both hilarious and
heartwarming. The finale served
as a reminder of what made this
show great and how much it will
be missed. TV is a sadder place
without new stories from Paw-
nee, but “Parks” undoubtedly
leaves a legacy as one of the best
TV comedies of all time.
The sonic evolution
of Adam Levine
TV REVIEW
NBC
The architect retires.
A+
Parks and
Recreation
Series Finale
NBC
People don’t
want to listen to
the same thing
for forever.
FOOD COLUMN
Appreciating
eating alone
“
White rice steaming,
almost done. Sweet green
peas fried in onions.
Shrimp braised in sesame oil
and gar-
lic. And
my own
loneliness.
What more
could I, a
young man,
want.” —
“Eating
Alone,”
Li-Young
Lee.
I’ve
read and re-read this haunting
last stanza of Li-Young Lee’s
account of coping with the death
of his father, and it always feels
self-parodying. The abundance
of food, its sensory pleasure,
is
meaningless
without
someone, other than his own
consciousness, to share it with.
Granted, the circumstances of
this lonely meal are severe. But
in America, we still assume that
dining alone is due to alienation
or heartbreak or, at the very
least, convenience. Think of
that scene from “Forgetting
Sarah Marshall,” where Jason
Segel arrives at the restaurant
and asks for a one-person table,
only to have Jonah Hill press
him on whether he has a wife
or girlfriend or a magazine,
before finally explaining, “I
just would be so depressed.”
Back in Ann Arbor, I eat
alone quite often, but usually
because I’m pressed for time
or need to read something
for class. I rarely go out to a
restaurant by myself, and why
would I? Dining solo would
seem to be a dreary and boring
experience, with only your
reflection in the water glass to
keep you company. But since
I’ve come to Rome, I’ve learned
to appreciate the joys of dining
solo.
Per usual, there is a proverb
in Italian for this — meglio
solo che male accompagnato,
or “better alone than in bad
company.”
I
learned
this
slightly
crotchety
aphorism
growing up, and I use it
frequently when dining alone
now, ostensibly to justify my
aloneness, but really to gain a
little credibility. To not only
dine alone, but to proffer a
proverb in defense of it, makes
one look and sound, even feel,
like a true Italian.
However, there are pleasures
beyond performativity in eating
alone, which are especially
present in Rome, but applicable
elsewhere. I’ll get the dickish
one out of the way first. There
are times when dining alone
really is preferable to dining
in bad company. Now, “bad”
can mean annoying, rude and
boorish, like someone who
will drink the wine straight
from the bottle or drone on
about
their
glory
days
in
Little League (really, I’ve seen
all of this). But, it can also
just signify a difference in
tastes. I’m not likely to bring
a vegetarian to Pommidoro in
the San Lorenzo neighborhood,
where the house specialty is
pajata — veal intestines, still
stuffed with partially digested
milk, braided and grilled.
But
there
are
tangible
reasons to dine alone, even
when the most adventurous
and fun of friends are available.
Dining
alone
in
Rome
is
educational. When I’m with
friends, I’m usually engrossed
in conversation. When I’m by
myself, I observe other patrons.
What do they wear to dinner?
What do they talk about? What
do they order, and how do they
order it? How do they eat?
These small, almost ritualistic
details of dining are a gateway
to understanding any culture,
and you’re sure to pick up on
them better by yourself.
Speaking of details, dining
alone forces you to focus on
your food. The mechanical
monotony of eating — the
unending waltz of cut with
knife, spear with fork, raise to
mouth — already desensitizes
you.
When
your
only
companion is the plate in front
of you, you really do pay more
attention. The look, the taste,
the mouthfeel … these are
things you can slowly, carefully
muse over. I once spent a good
10 minutes taking small bites
of my spaghetti cacio e pepe,
chewing slowly, just trying to
figure out why this version felt
superior (cracked, rather than
ground, peppercorns).
But what I enjoy most about
dining alone in Rome is that
I never really am alone. In
most Italian restaurants, both
staff and patrons are friendly
and talkative to a degree that
many Americans might find
overbearing. When I eat lunch
alone at Lo Sgobone in the
Flaminio neighborhood, the
owner shuffles over to my
table after every course and
asks me if I want something
else. After he brings the new
dish,
he’ll
occasionally
sit
down and allow me to practice
my kindergarten Italian. And
that’s comparatively formal —
one time, he went to sit with
another
white-haired
man,
and they got into some sort of
argument over the pasta, so he
grabbed a spare fork and tasted
it.
Now, things can go wrong.
A bad meal, with no one to
talk or even gripe to, can be
interminable. I’ve only had one
bad solo meal in Rome thus
far, and by the end of it, I was
staring at the man next to me
so intently that he asked me if
I needed something. Even if
I spoke Italian better, I don’t
know if I could have explained
that I was just desperate for
interaction of any type to
distract me from the bland,
styrofoam-like artichokes on
my plate.
But,
like
all
adventures,
eating alone has its mishaps. It’s
an adventure I wouldn’t want to
go on every night. I really do
enjoy the act of sharing a meal,
of tasting each other’s food
and chatting and laughing in
between and during courses.
But sometimes, I like a meal
like I had the other night at
La Tavernaccia, in Trastevere.
On one side of me sat a man
and a woman whose first date
had clearly ended with an
awkward hug and an exchange
of numbers. On the other side,
a graying couple fed each other
slices of prosciutto. A steaming
plate of pasta was set before
me, which I mixed and turned
with my fork a few times before
taking the first bite.
What more could I, a young
man, want?
Buonomo is eating alone again.
To send him your pity messages,
email gbuonomo@umich.edu.
GIANCARLO
BUONOMO
Like all
adventures,
eating alone has
its mishaps.
MUSIC NOTEBOOK
iTunes and Spotify
By CARLY SNIDER
Daily Arts Writer
Dear Spotify,
I have to admit, I am jealous.
It’s not easy realizing my peak
may have passed. For years
I basked in my dominance
of the music world, acting
as the go-to application for
music downloads, storage and
organization. I was riding high
on Apple’s continuous success,
benefitting from the variety
of products – iPods, iPhones,
Macs – that chose me to handle
their musical needs. Then I was
innovative, adaptive. CD and
MP3 players were kicked to the
curb. I could organize an entire
library of content any way
the user may want – by artist,
genre, date added, playlists, etc.
What more could anyone need?
I was a free service (well, other
than the hundreds to thousands
of dollars one would spend on
the device) that offered the
top tier of electronic musical
ingenuity.
I
even
allowed
illegally-downloaded
content
on my system – very chill of me,
right?
But then you came along. You
changed
everything,
taking
what I made commonplace and
expanding upon it – showing
me up. Now, when users go to
open their music application of
choice, their thumb travels to
your round, green icon rather
than my classic music note.
My crisp white background is
replaced by your, admittedly,
sleeker black backdrop and
more
streamlined
design.
You were somehow able to
transcend
the
Apple-sphere
and become available to all
smart phones and computers –
something I will never be able
to accomplish.
Your depth is undeniable;
your appeal spans from Top
40 pop fans to self-proclaimed
music elitists. There are a few
artists who deny you their
work, so I do have to brag about
my access to Taylor Swift. But
users can add almost any song
imaginable to their personal
library with the click of one
small plus sign or the drag
of a mouse, eliminating my
purchasing and downloading
“hassles.”
While my programming is
all-inclusive, yours is dynamic.
It pains me to admit this, but
you can provide them with
genre
groupings
and
mood
music in a way that I cannot.
Not only do you make saving
music easy, but you also make
finding new artists or tracks so
simple. How did you get so good
at suggesting new artists? Or
making track listings for pretty
much any occasion? I used to
run listening marathons of
classic music for my user’s study
sessions, now I am brushed
aside in favor of your multiple
“focus” playlists.
When I found out that users
need Wi-Fi to listen to your
playlists on the go, I was sure
that I had you. Who would
choose to use up all their data
on some app when they could
use me without the extra
charge? Music is meant to be
mobile. But then I realized
that
you
offered
Premium
privileges, including off-line
mobile listening for a very
reasonable monthly rate. You
really seem to have everything
figured out.
But don’t let this praise go
to your head. I am still the
original; I still have loyal fans
and a strong place in the music
industry. When an artist has
success with an album, they
don’t say they reached the top
of the Spotify charts. No, they
say they reached #1 on my
charts. You may be the new, hip
kid on the block, but you have a
long way to go.
Cordially, iTunes
Taylor Swift
still loves
iTunes.