One of the funniest movies of all time, and one that’s long overdue for an airing here. Falk/Arkin in The In-Laws < DeNiro/Grodin in Midnight Run, but it’s close. RIP, Columbo.
So a few years back, my pal Eric was enjoying a drink or three at a charity event where Clarence Clemons and the Temple of Soul were the house band. This prompted him, during the auction part of the evening, to bid on a package where Clarence would come over to the house, cook dinner and play some music. His bosses at the time mocked him for thinking he’d win it for, like, $800. But when the bidding was done, one of the bosses won out and gave it to my friend to thank him for his service in their law firm. (Postscript: The bosses did so to buy time, knowing they’d never make him partner. Two years later, he left the firm to venture out on his own, taking a bunch of clients and support staff with him. Lawyers hold grudges.)
Eric invited us down to Miami for the big night and encouraged us to bring guitars. I assumed that Clarence would peg our clique as a bunch of Dockers-wearing assholes - there’s some truth to that, except for the Dockers part - so I made it my mission to be prepared. We spent three nights rehearsing the Springsteen catalog, doting on the songs that Clarence had made a part of his own live show (Pink Cadillac,Paradise By The ‘C’, Savin’ Up). Just in case, we rented a bass guitar and a keyboard. It is fair to say that Mr. Clemons did not expect this level of commitment.
The night was postponed once due to Clarence’s back surgery, but finally we were all down there and waiting for him to arrive. It was awkward at first, especially during our initial blast of incisive questioning (“so, what’s up?,” “how are you?,” “everything good?”). But then we heard him singing along with our soundcheck - seriously, we did a soundcheck - and figured it’d work out.
Dinner was revelatory from a fan perspective, slightly less so from a gourmand’s one. Clarence told stories: About the 18-hour, overnight session in which Bruce sang out the Jungleland solo note-for-note and sat on him until he got it precisely right; about preferring David Sancious’ style of piano to Roy Bittan’s (“Roy can play anything, but David’s a genius”) and pointing to the scratched-out piano chords at the start of NYC Serenade as an example; about the challenges of playing in front of Vini Lopez (“you have to finish the song in the same tempo where you started”); and, most poignantly, about requesting a toy train for his 11th birthday and receiving a sax instead.
After moreFarley-ish“remember that time you played Rosalita? That was AWESOME” banter and a *lot* of alcohol, we started playing. We did a solid two hours of songs from the Springsteen canon - Spirit, Thunder Road, 10th, Promised Land, Saint In The City, Sherry Darling, Growin’ Up, Seaside Bar Song, a bunch more. That, in retrospect, was the evening’s great surprise: We expected Clarence to be a genial but distant guy who’d play us into the ground. Instead, he was the greatest, most gracious guy in the world and a somewhat casual musician (granted, he probably didn’t expect to be challenged musically that night, plus he hadn’t played much while recovering from surgery). It dawned on us that Springsteen fans knew the catalog as well as he did, as witnessed by the following exchange:
CC: Want to do Night? Let’s do Night.
LD: (about to shit himself purple) Sure!
CC: You got the bridge?
LD: Yeah. D - E - F# minor.
CC: No, I don’t think that’s right.
LD: Pretty sure it’s D - E - F# minor.
CC: I dunno, man.
LD: (getting annoyed) Trust me on this.
Clarence’s assistant had to drag him away at midnight; he would’ve kept playing (and beering) for hours longer. On the way out, he said, half out of admiration and half out of exasperation, “I haven’t worked that hard in a long time.” I was like, yeah, we don’t get out much.
So here’s a final thanks to The Big Man, for that night and for the thousands of others on vinyl and on stage. It’s a dangerous thing, getting to interact on a human level with someone whose life and work you admire. That Clarence proved even larger than his outsized legend - in spirit, in generosity, in everything - is one of the great gifts I’ve ever received.
“Innovative scientific analysis,” eh? That makes PQ, what, UZR for conservative think-tankers?
»>Washington, DC – It’s no secret that the media tilts to the left, but a new book uses innovative scientific analysis to show that, not only do media outlets tend to have a liberal bias when reporting the news, their distorted coverage causes media consumers to have more liberal views as a result.
In Left Turn: How Liberal Media Bias Distorts the American Mind (St. Martin’s Press, July 19, 2011), UCLA political scientist Tim Groseclose builds on his 2005 groundbreaking study, “A Measure of Media Bias,” by showing that the liberal media bias has shifted what he terms the “Political Quotient” (PQ) of the average American to the left by about 20 points. His scientific formula, combined with similar studies by respected academics, reveals:
* Absent the media’s influence, the average American’s views would reflect those of conservative areas like Orange County, CA and the state of Kansas.
* All mainstream news outlets in the United States have a liberal bias. The Drudge Report, according to the book’s analysis, “is approximately the most fair, balanced, and centrist, outlet in the United States.”
* Some supposedly “conservative” outlets, like FOX News’ Special Report, are not biased as far right as typical mainstream outlets are biased to the left.
* The media uses distortion, not lies or incorrect facts, to report the news with a liberal slant. The “Media Mu”—the average slant of all news outlets—is about eight points more liberal than the PQ of the average American voter.
Separately, this trailer ran before the flick. It got me to speculating: Just how badly would I have to screw up for The Missus to insist that I see it as part of my atonement? Overenthusiastic consumption of alcohol would have to be involved, probably teamed with accidental property destruction and tart remarks directed family-ward. Happily, my wife finds movies like that just as wince-inducing as I do. I done married the right girl.
One small beef: He ignored the final wheel spin, which happened to be New Lace Sleeves. It would’ve brought down the house - and by “the house,” I mean “me and my pal/fellow Trust dork Jeff.” Great fun nonetheless.
Angry, not angry - who can tell the difference anymore?
FEEDBACK: Hi, Mr Dobrow. It is always a pleasure to read your column, since they tell us what is going on in the Majors with no fear to be judged by conservative readers. I am writing to you to ask you if there was not any problem with translating to Spanish some of your articles once in a while for a blog I manage. The idea is to let those baseball lovers that do not speak English enjoy your talent and creativity. I already did one but i do not know if you could feel offended. You can check my blogand tell me what you think. In await of your response. Bye.
