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By George Jasper
©2019 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
02/20/19

Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle

Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis

02/20/19

ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:

Release Date: Wednesday, February 20, 2019

ACROSS
1 Gaping mouths
5 “The Sorcerer’s 
Apprentice” 
composer
10 States in an 
outdated atlas: 
Abbr.
14 Nobelist Wiesel
15 Official mandate
16 Analogous (to)
17 One way to ride a 
horse
19 Stereotypical 
pooch
20 D.C.’s 
Pennsylvania, 
e.g.
21 Named, briefly
22 Shop talk
23 One in a 
hundred?
25 Cafeteria 
worker’s cover
27 Affleck of “Gone 
Girl”
28 “Downton __”: 
PBS show
29 Dramatic 
opening?
32 Many an 
emailer
34 ’50s political 
monogram
37 Typical MLB 
pitching 
alignment, and 
a hint to this 
puzzle’s circles
41 Train stopping at 
every sta.
42 They turn litmus 
paper red
43 Does impressions 
of
44 Grazing groups
46 “Gimme a __”
48 Large goblet
50 “Haven’t the 
foggiest”
54 Bamboo lover
55 Alternative to 
fries
56 Korean 
automaker
57 Script fraction
58 Military expert, 
say
61 Sun Devils’ rival
62 Canadian fliers
63 Language of 
Pakistan
64 Riverbank 
residue
65 Govt.-backed 
bond
66 “Freeze!”

DOWN
1 Small plateaus
2 Still in contention
3 Alleviate traffic 
on, perhaps
4 “Told you”
5 Exactly right
6 Milk source
7 10-time NBA 
All-Star Jason
8 Commonly 
injured knee part, 
briefly
9 Sault __ Marie
10 “On Language” 
columnist
11 Barely enjoy the 
pool?
12 First Homeland 
Security 
secretary
13 Condescending 
one
18 Place
22 First sign of fall
24 Rose’s Broadway 
beau
25 Saintly glows
26 Drive the 
getaway car, say
29 Partner of 
30-Down
30 Partner of 
29-Down
31 Remote choice
32 Ouzo flavoring

33 MDW : Midway :: 
__ : O’Hare
35 Anonymous Jane
36 Peyton 
Manning’s four?
38 Educator 
Montessori
39 Adapter letters
40 Delicate handling
45 Firstborn
46 Parlor piece
47 Let up
48 Just above 
average

49 One side of 
Hispaniola
50 Talk oneself up
51 School uniform 
part, perhaps
52 Foul up
53 Thoroughly enjoy
55 Early smartphone
58 Rank above cpl.
59 Coffee break 
time
60 Mercury 
astronaut 
Grissom

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Almost a year and a half 
ago, one of my close friends 
joined a new club on campus. 
However, this club wasn’t 
like the other ones I heard 
of — it didn’t revolve around 
a specific team activity or 
a shared academic interest. 
No, this club was a cutthroat 
competition 
that 
kicked 
people out once a week and 
would end with only one 
remaining. 
This 
was 
the 
first 
season 
of 
“Survivor: 
Michigan.”
Growing up, “Survivor” was 
not a television show of choice 
in my household. In fact, to 
this date I have never seen 
an episode of the CBS show. 
The closest thing I’ve got is 
my occasional binge-watch of 
“Total Drama Island.” Tribal 
council, immunity idols, Jeff 
Probst? Never heard of them. 
When my friend first told me 
they would be competing on 
the show, I originally thought 
it was a gag of some kind. 
How could you compete on a 
survival show while going to 
school? Were they going to 
live in the Arb for eight weeks? 
It turns out there’s more 
to “Survivor” then literally 
surviving. As I’ve now been 
told many times, “Survivor” 
is a strategic, social game far 
more dependent on your brain 
that it is your ability to start a 
fire or catch fish with a trap.
At first I didn’t understand 
what they meant by “being on 
the show” either. Who is going 
to watch a bunch of college 
students pretending to be on 
“Survivor?” Who is going to 
edit it? How will people even 
know this exists? Much to my 
shock, as the year progressed 
all 
of 
my 
friends 
slowly 
became aware that there was 
an entire network of college 
“Survivor” shows out there, 
and that despite the often 

low-quality camerawork and 
lighting, 
people 
actually 
watched 
them. 
 
Today, 
“Survivor: Michigan” has its 
own subreddit, fan podcast, 

and is bringing in thousands 
of views on YouTube every 
week. It sort of blows my 
mind 
how 
many 
die-hard 
“Survivor” fans are out there.
Watching 
my 
friend 
compete in this was a truly 
bizarre experience. At first 
we all thought they were 
mostly doing it just as a fun 
way to spend a semester, but 
pretty quickly we started to 
understand that to the people 
competing, it was no simple 
game. From the time my friend 
started competing to the time 
the game was over, all we 
heard about was “Survivor.” 
Hours were spent scouring 
campus 
for 
“idol 
clues,” 
names of other competitors 
were thrown around in the 
same tone of disdain usually 
reserved for Sparty or Duo 
Identification and the tension 
was constantly high.
Now 
that 
the 
show 
is 
actually being released week 
to week on YouTube, the 
entire experience is slightly 
surreal. As my friend relives 
a semester of their life, so 

do the rest of us by vaguely 
recalling the conversations 
and drama that surrounded 
it at the time. It’s a bizarre 
window into the past, but one 
that is treated by the general 
audience as the present. The 
Michigan Union is open on 
this show. Construction has 
not yet come to consume The 
Diag. Michigan Time still 
exists and people run around 
in t-shirts and shorts in a 
beautiful fall. In the midst 
of this cold and long winter, 
there’s strange warmth that 
comes from getting a one-
hour dose of fall in Ann Arbor 
every week. 
The really crazy thing is 
that despite being produced 
and edited almost entirely 
by one person (George Jayne, 
Class of 2018), the actual show 
is pretty good. Now, I do have 
a huge bias here, because the 
entertainment value derived 
from watching my friend get 
criticized in YouTube and 
Reddit comments is insanely 
high, and I can’t speak to how 
well this compares to actual 
“Survivor” 
or 
even 
other 
college “Survivors,” but what 
I can say is that the inside-
baseball Michigan angle of 
it makes for a very appealing 
watch for current students. As 
you watch you’re constantly 
wondering, what would I do 
in this situation? How would 
I possibly balance this with 
school? And do these people 
even go to class, or do they 
just play “Survivor” all the 
time? I don’t have the answers 
to those questions and I don’t 
have an answer to how the 
rest of the season is going to 
play out, but what I can say is 
this: there are worse ways to 
spend a Friday night.
“Survivor: 
Michigan” 
is now airing on YouTube 
Fridays at 8 p.m. 

IAN HARRIS

DAILY ENTERTAINMENT COLUMN

On my roommate, and how 
he made it to our television

Avril Lavigne, more than 
any other pop star (except Lady 
Gaga), has had an absurd amount 
of personas throughout her 
career. The Canadian phenom 
was launched into fame nearly 
17 (holy shit, we’re getting old) 
years ago with 2002’s Let Go. 
And for good reason — it’s an 
absolutely iconic alt-rock album. 
Good luck finding anyone who 
doesn’t know every single word 
of “Sk8er Boi.” She maintained 
the status quo with 2004’s Under 
My Skin before doing a complete 
180 in 2007 with The Best Damn 
Thing — possibly post-death and 
post-replacement by double. This 
album is notable for featuring one 
of the greatest songs of all time, 
“Girlfriend.” Lavigne shed her 
angsty vulnerability for a hard-
ass attitude, and it is safe to say 
that her risk to fuse glam-rock 
and pop paid off. Unfortunately, 
save for a few singles, her 2011 
and 2013 efforts were hardly 
memorable, and the end seemed 
nigh for Miss Lavigne.
This actually happens to be 
quite literal, as her latest album 
Head Above Water is about her 
near-death experience battling 
Lyme disease. Her struggle over 
the past six years has pushed her 

back to her roots, leaving behind 
alt-pop hooks for ballad-y piano 
melodies. The album is an odd 
combination of bad-girl Avril 
and old-school Avril, pasted 
together in a messy fashion. Her 
vocal melodies carry a nostalgic 

punch, reminiscent of the girl 
who denied the skater boy. 
But here’s the kicker: This is a 
Christian album.
On the album opener, biblical 
imagery is abundant. “Can’t part 
the sea, can’t reach the shore,” 
she calls out; “God, keep my 
head above water / Don’t let me 
drown, it gets harder / I’ll meet 
you there at the altar,” the chorus 
begs. In truth, it’s pretty catchy, 
but at the same time, a very 
unexpected turn of events for 
the girl once yelling “Hell yeah, 
I’m the motherfuckin’ princess!” 
It’s almost safe to say it’s the 

album’s peak because every song 
following it elicits a “what the 
actual hell” within 10 seconds.
Head Above Water is like a 
box of chocolates but every piece 
contains a different type of nut. 
Ultimately, you’re gonna be 
disappointed after a bite or 
two. There are blues tracks, 
there are pop songs, there 
are ballads and there is even 
a track with a Nicki Minaj 
verse. There’s just way too 
much going on here, and 
none of it particularly stands 
out.
In her defense, there was 
no way she was getting away 
with yet another reinvention 
in 2019. Pop is too in right 
now — it’s that genre, and 
it’s fucking cutthroat. Pop 
stars come and go on a whim, 
and only the truly strong keep 
their head above water in today’s 
environment. Lavigne’s roots 
are too deep, her legacy too set 
in stone. If you’re not innovating 
today, pop will chew you up 
and spit you out on your head. 
Her insistence to maintain a 
semblance of the pop she was 
putting out over a decade ago 
is near fatal. What I’m getting 
at here is that Lavigne, while 
holding on to nostalgia at times, 
is outdated. Do yourself a favor 
and listen to “Mine” by Slayyyter 
instead.

Avril Lavigne is not back

DOMINIC POLSINELLI
Daily Arts Writer

ALBUM REVIEW

Head Above 
Water

Avril Lavigne

BMG Rights Management

The 
first 
time 
I 
ever 
heard 
Benjamin 
Britten’s 
“War 
Requiem,” 
I 
was 
immediately struck by the 
colossal nature of the work: 
A full orchestra, a chamber 
orchestra, 
an 
organ, 
a 
boys’ choir, an adult choir 
and three solo vocalists. 
And the subject matter — 
the juxtaposition of war 
poetry and the traditional 
Latin 
requiem 
texts 
— 
seems equally colossal and 
foreboding.
Listening to recordings or 
watching videos of the work, 
it is hard to fully understand 
the piece. It is lengthy, 
dissonant and emotionally 
draining. Though I have 
tried many times to make it 
through the complete work, 
I will admit that I have never 
done so without the aid of a 
score to keep my attention.
Last 
Saturday’s 
performance of the work 
at Hill Auditorium was a 
reminder 
of 
what 
makes 
the piece so special when 
heard live. The Ann Arbor 
Symphony 
Orchestra, 
the 
UMS 
Choral 
Union, 
the 
Ann 
Arbor 
Youth 
Chorale, 
soprano 
Tatiana 
Pavlovskaya, tenor Anthony 
Dean Griffey and baritone 
Stephen 
Powell 
combined 
for an absolutely stunning 
performance. I left in a state 
of contemplative awe, unable 
to 
think 
about 
anything 
except the work.
For those unfamiliar with 
the piece, it opens with 
the 
traditional 
Requiem 
aeternam text before moving 
on 
to 
Wilfred 
Owen’s 
“Anthem for Doomed Youth.” 
Owen’s poetry, written while 
he was a British soldier in 
the trenches of World War I, 
is dark and straightforward. 
It ruminates on the failures 
of humanity leading up to 
World War I; the failures 
of European belief systems 
to prevent the tremendous 
loss of life that was the two 
World Wars.
The orchestral and choral 
writing is at times stormy 
and at other times slow 
and mournful. The opening 
movement, 
for 
example, 
is jolting and frightening. 
The audience member is 
transformed into a civilian 
during the darkest moments 

of these total wars, living in 
fear of what comes next and 
in sadness at what has come 
before.
And 
yet, 
Britten 
soon 
contrasts these sentiments 
with 
the 
angelic 
beauty 
of the boys’ choir. In this 
performance, 
they 
were 
placed in the top balcony, 
their singing of religious 
texts literally floating down 
from above. The baritone 
and tenor, meanwhile, take 
on the role of narrators, 
reading 
Owen’s 
texts 
in 
opera-esque recitative style.
Through 
these 
juxtapositions, 
Britten 
pulls different, frightening 
meanings out of the requiem 
texts. In some instances, 
he plays for dark irony, 
highlighting 
instances 
of 
peace in these texts, pledges 
for a world that must have 
seemed 
all 
but 
foreign 
to those alive during the 
World Wars. At other points, 
he draws out much more 
sinister undertones, drawing 
the 
audience 
member’s 
attention to violence and 
conflict in religious texts. 
Violence, he seems to say, is 
an awful aspect of the human 
condition — something that 
we should work to eradicate, 
and yet something that is 
unfortunately intrinsic to 
humanity.
This 
is 
perhaps 
most 
poignant 
in 
the 
third 
movement, 
the 
“Offertorium.” Towards the 
end of this movement, the 
baritone and tenor perform 
Owen’s “The Parable of the 
Old Man and the Young,” a 
retelling of the story of Isaac 
and Abraham. The poem 
ends with two startling lines, 
connecting 
this 
Biblical 
story with the World Wars. 
“But the old man would not 
so, but slew his son, / And 
half the seed of Europe, one 
by one,” Owens writes.
As 
the 
baritone 
and 
tenor 
intone 
this 
final 
line, the boys’ choir erupts 
into 
fearful 
“Hostia 
et 
preces tibi,” the Latin text 
asking God to allow those 
commemorated 
by 
the 
congregation to pass from 
death to life. The beauty 
of the boys’ choirs melody 
juxtaposed with the harsh 
ending of Owen’s poem was 
overwhelming. 
I 
felt 
my 
stomach turn out of both 
horror and disgust as these 
two texts collided.

Britten 
concludes 
with 
Owen’s “Strange Meeting” 
and 
the 
Latin 
text, 
“Requiescant in pace.” The 
baritone and tenor sing the 
last lines of Owen’s poem, 
“Let us sleep,” as the boys’ 
choir and the adult choir 
sing a final “Amen.” After 
over an hour of the dark, 
somber, alarming material 
Britten previously provided, 
this ending is arresting in its 
simplicity and its beauty. It 
was a final prayer for peace, 
an urgent cry for change 
in a world that seems all to 
accepting of mass violence.
Harmonically, 
Britten 
centers 
the 
entire 
work 
around the tritone. This 
interval is considered to 
be the most harmonically 
dissonant of all intervals. 
In 
the 
18th-century, 
it 
was referred to by some as 
“diabolus in musica,” “the 
Devil in music.” This is the 
harmonic 
guiding 
force 
behind the tension in the 
piece. At the conclusion, 
Britten 
harmonizes 
the 
tritone 
in 
an 
almost 
consonant 
manner; 
the 
audience member thus finds 
some semblance of closure 
in the most dissonant of all 
harmonic intervals.
Though this performance 
lacked at times, the strength 
of Britten’s writing easily 
negated any such problems. 
The soloists, for example, 
were slightly buried in the 
text at some moments. Had 
I not been provided a copy 
of the libretto, along with 
an English translation of the 
Latin texts, it would have 
been hard to distinguish 
what they were saying at 
times. The orchestra also 
struggled 
with 
balance 
at a couple of points. The 
mallet 
percussions 
parts, 
furthermore, were a little 
too loud for my taste — the 
metal instruments struck at 
an almost painful volume.
Thinking back on this 
performance, 
however, 
it 
is not these shortcomings 
that I will carry with me 
but 
the 
meaning 
of 
the 
piece itself. In our world of 
seeming perpetual violence, 
in a country coming up 
on its 17th year of war in 
Afghanistan, 
Britten’s 
message rings true. It was a 
call to action, an exposé on 
our moral shortcomings that 
morphed in the end into an 
urgent plea for peace.

‘War Requiem’ from the
Orchestra is marvelous

COMMUNITY CULTURE REVIEW

SAMMY SUSSMAN
Daily Arts Writer

6A — Wednesday, February 20, 2019
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com