Daniel Perrin – Editor-in-Chief
If you ever find yourself traveling with me, there’s a good chance I’ll ask you to learn all the words to Billy Joel’s longest song, “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant,” ahead of time. While “The Stranger” is probably understood to be Joel’s strongest album, other songs on it tend to capture more attention. Why that is the case is a mystery to me. In my opinion, “Scenes” reflects the very best that the piano man has to offer, giving credence to the rollercoaster that life feels like by writing about the often monotonous and routine developments that make it up.
In telling the stories of suburban life through the reunion of old high school friends now in the city, Joel captures the importance of growth and change. But the song’s lyrics also highlight the searches for excitement, impulsive decisions, lofty plans subject to financial realities, and bittersweet feelings of settling down that come through the years in an extremely sing-along-worthy seven minutes and 37 seconds. In an era of increasing social isolation and the growing attention economy, Joel’s insistence that the stories of past lives, no matter how mundane, are worth listening to with enthusiasm and, importantly, with company (“You and I, face-to-face, mm” / […] I’ll meet you anytime you want”) can teach us all an important lesson.
Ella Walker – Managing Editor
If you’ve read my bio on The Phoenix’s online masthead, you’d know that I enjoy memoirs. It’s the section of the bookstore I’ll always head to first and the genre I go to when I’m feeling extra world-weary. Earlier this past fall, I saw that the director of one of my favorite films of all time was releasing a memoir. Cameron Crowe, writer-director of “Almost Famous” — the film based on Crowe’s own experiences as a teenage journalist for “Rolling Stone” — tells the full story of breaking into the 1970s rock scene and touring with and interviewing legendary stars. Crowe’s “The Uncool” is the intimate and adventurous tale of a teenage writer who traded his adolescence for the love of the music and reveals the memories and inspirations behind his beloved film.
I first watched “Almost Famous” when I was around the same age as Crowe when he wrote his first story for “Rolling Stone” — fifteen. Reading his memoir, I can still hear the scenes and iconic lines from the film that made me laugh and struck my music-lover heart years ago. I was happy that Crowe’s mother, Alice’s, most quotable lines from the film rang true in the memoir (“Rock stars have kidnapped my son!”). While Crowe’s interviews with rock legends like Led Zeppelin and David Bowie were detailed throughout, Alice Crowe was the most vibrant character of all. If not a love letter to music, “The Uncool” was a letter to Crowe’s mom, who, even though it took a while to come around to rock and roll and Crowe’s career, remained devoted to her son.
Bowie famously agreed to let Crowe interview him because he was “young enough to be honest.” After finishing “The Uncool,” I don’t think Crowe has ever departed from what brought him to the music: his love for telling stories. His memoir shed light on the often unglamorous parts of life: growing up on the B-side, loss, rejection, and finding belonging. Or, as Crowe describes it, “happy/sad”: part ache, part exhilaration. It’s life and the feeling you get from your favorite song.
Maya Levine – Co-Chief Copy Editor
It’s no exaggeration to say that I listened to the entirety of Amy Winehouse’s debut album, “Frank,” every single day during finals season last fall. I chose the album somewhat arbitrarily, based solely on a longtime appreciation for the more popular “Back to Black,” to be the soundtrack to my studying and writing. After finals wrapped up and I headed home, I realized that I had the album completely memorized, and that it had become one of my favorites.
Winehouse’s vocals are the obvious star of the album; fans will likely appreciate the many live performances documented on YouTube, each with its own character. She further draws in listeners with her deeply honest — frank, if you will — lyrics. While most of the songs reflect the imperfections shared by many nineteen year olds, Winehouse’s thoughtful lyricism and choice of samples (classics “Lullaby of Birdland” and “Mister Magic”) frame the songs less as the ramblings of a whiny teenager and more like mature reflections on young adult life.
While Amy Winehouse died far too young, “Frank” serves as a time capsule of her adolescence and proof of the artistic genius she possessed at such a young age. I highly recommend giving it a listen.
Sarah Cymrot – Co-Chief Copy Editor
I first stumbled across Irène Mathieu’s work when I saw her speak at a Medical Humanities conference at the Children’s Hospital of Pennsylvania early into my first year here. I was fascinated by how she talked about the relationship between her work as a pediatrician and her work as a poet — as well as the way she brought the language of medicine and the body into her poetry with such richness and warmth. I picked up a copy of “Milk Tongue” after the conference … and promptly left it on the train on my way back to campus. Truly devastating.
I was reminded of her work earlier this semester during a conversation with Administrative Assistant of the Sociology & Anthropology Department Stacey Hogge about our favorite poets. I checked out “Milk Tongue” from the library and finally read it. Maybe it is just the time of year when I’m ready to be back with my family, but I have found myself returning recently to Mathieu’s series of poems, “attempts at going home” — “second attempt at going home” in particular. Her writing re-inscribes the language of family life with such emotional depth that it never retreats to a thinner sentimentality. She asks about home near the end of the poem: “What if, more than place, it’s about sound?” Between this space and sound, there’s a lovely texture to her images in the poem — the siblings sitting at the park bench “pull[ing] yarn out of each other’s throats,” the primroses with their “moon faces,” the sautéed garlic and onions, and the deer hoof prints that return later in the hooves of galloping language.
