Yesterday I caught the Osmonds' 50th Anniversary Concert on PBS, which I believe was filmed in Las Vegas last year. I hadn't thought about them in awhile, and really didn't think too much of them in their heyday.
I remember them being omnipresent in the '70s, and, as with virtually every other "omnipresent" celebrity, band, movie, etc., I tended to ignore them. They were too gimmicky, too squeaky clean. Their music had no edge, no sense of danger that emanated from bands like The Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin, other than the fact that Wayne Osmond resembled Jimmy Page.
At one point in the show, Marie Osmond introduced their two eldest brothers, both of whom were born deaf. She explained that the reason they got into show business was to raise money to get them hearing aids so they could go on their Mormon church mission.
I'd never heard this before, and thought it was pretty cool. I would never have guessed that they had two elder brothers. They all did a rendition of "He Ain't Heavy (He's My Brother)" with the eldest brothers interpreting the song in sign language. It brought a tear to my eye...
As far as the earlier comparisons with the Stones and Zeppelin (and let's throw the Beatles in for good measure): I figured that the Osmonds began playing professionally at least 2 years before any of them. It put things in perspective.
The Osmonds appear to continue the old show business tradition of being great and making it look easy!
I hereby recant all the bad things I've ever thought or said about the Osmonds.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Music as Religion
Back in 1989 I had the opportunity to see Paul McCartney in concert. This was special, because I had been a devoted Beatles fan, albeit beginning 4 years after they broke up.
On this tour, his show opened with 3 films shown simultaneously on 3 screens above the stage. They were, if I recall correctly, produced by Richard Lester, who had produced the Beatles' first movie, A Hard Day's Night. The films showed various aspect's of Paul's life through the years, from his early years to the present. They pace was rapid - I enjoyed spotting various familiar images on the screens, and watching them built an incredible anticipation. At one point I said to myself, "I'm really going to see him!"
See him I did. Heard him, too. When he did his various Beatle songs (especially Hey Jude) and other solo hits, there was a palpable sense of awe. I felt like it was one for the ages.
Years later, I would identify that event as one of worship.
Last year I read a book entitled Earthly Powers: The Conflict Between Religion & Politics from the French Revolution to the Great War by Michael Burleigh. In it I found a passage that explained how going to the symphony, opera, etc., used to be about doing business or looking for a wife. During the post-Revolutionary era in France, it became a secular religious experience, and composers expected it to be treated as such.
When I read this, I thought about the McCartney concert, and felt that I fit in with the historical progression, at least! I was surprised that this phenomenon had any kind of deliberation behind it. Beginning in the realm of classical music and opera, no less. I thought it "just happened". Perhaps the elevation of popular music to this status was unique.
In any case, I again thought about this phenomenon when I recently read a passage from John's Gospel. Jesus speaks of His Father, and says, "Yes, I know Him well, and I keep His word," (Jn 9:55). I thought of Paul McCartney's (and others') words and how I "kept" them. If that's what it took to get to Heaven, I'd be "saved"!
On this tour, his show opened with 3 films shown simultaneously on 3 screens above the stage. They were, if I recall correctly, produced by Richard Lester, who had produced the Beatles' first movie, A Hard Day's Night. The films showed various aspect's of Paul's life through the years, from his early years to the present. They pace was rapid - I enjoyed spotting various familiar images on the screens, and watching them built an incredible anticipation. At one point I said to myself, "I'm really going to see him!"
See him I did. Heard him, too. When he did his various Beatle songs (especially Hey Jude) and other solo hits, there was a palpable sense of awe. I felt like it was one for the ages.
Years later, I would identify that event as one of worship.
Last year I read a book entitled Earthly Powers: The Conflict Between Religion & Politics from the French Revolution to the Great War by Michael Burleigh. In it I found a passage that explained how going to the symphony, opera, etc., used to be about doing business or looking for a wife. During the post-Revolutionary era in France, it became a secular religious experience, and composers expected it to be treated as such.
When I read this, I thought about the McCartney concert, and felt that I fit in with the historical progression, at least! I was surprised that this phenomenon had any kind of deliberation behind it. Beginning in the realm of classical music and opera, no less. I thought it "just happened". Perhaps the elevation of popular music to this status was unique.
In any case, I again thought about this phenomenon when I recently read a passage from John's Gospel. Jesus speaks of His Father, and says, "Yes, I know Him well, and I keep His word," (Jn 9:55). I thought of Paul McCartney's (and others') words and how I "kept" them. If that's what it took to get to Heaven, I'd be "saved"!
Saturday, January 19, 2008
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