Who Wants to Take The Shot?

I have been a game show nut all my life.  Some of my earliest memories are of network game shows on morning TV before I went to school (meaning before I was attending kindergarten). I loved the Concentration game board with its motorized “trilons” revealing prizes and puzzle pieces to the contestants. I loved Concentration’s cheesy organ music that opened and closed the show, introduced new contestants from behind the “elevator door” entrance to the studio (“Let’s meet your new opponent”, Hugh Downs would intone at that dramatic moment) and played the background music as a new puzzle-solver would listen to the show’s announcer rattle off the descriptions to the prizes he or she had won in the latest victory. If one of those prizes was a chance to spin the “cash wheel” or to read the contents of “The Envelope”, it was even better. And when “Concentration” advanced to being, at least for a little while, a game show with slightly better prizes you could watch somewhere in the evening’s prime-time viewing schedule, well, that just showed how magical “Concentration” really was. (And I love how, to this day, David Letterman will sometimes throw the phrase “and the board goes back” into his conversation with the rich and famous who sit at his desk to briefly chat.)

I loved “Captain Kangaroo”, but I loved game shows more. I loved the giant real-life game board of “Video Village”, with its “Miracle Mile”, its jail and its bird-cage dice roller; at that point, no one had any idea that the host of Video Village (Monty Hall) would someday turn into the iconic host of “Let’s Make a Deal”. I didn’t quite understand the rules to “Surprise Package” or “Double Exposure”, but I loved the blinking lights and the feel of excitement generated by the shows. I was still too young to be able to spell four-letter words or to be able to put them in a crossword layout, but I still loved Jan Murray’s “Charge Account”.

As I got older, I loved the slot machine graphics and action of “The Joker’s Wild”, still blissfully unaware of Jack Barry’s historical place in game show scandal history. I loved Wink Martindale’s stereotypical game show host’s smile and big chin, and how he genuinely seemed happy when someone on “Gambit” or “Tic-Tac-Dough” won big money and prizes.  I loved the psychology at work on the short-lived “Temptation”, wherein contestants would select the prizes they wanted to win, knowing that if they selected the same prize one of the other contestants selected, they’d both lose the prize.

I secretly resented “The Price is Right”‘s success as a game show, figuring that they were just capitalizing on “Let’s Make a Deal’s” earlier grab-a-contestant-from-the-audience format, but still enjoying Bob Barker’s continuing employment on TV’s early morning small screen. I had watched Barker on “Truth or Consequences”, getting a kick out of “Beulah the Buzzer” which would always signify that a contestant had failed to tell the truth and must therefore suffer the consequences, and Bob’s “TPIR” presence was a somewhat comforting reminder that the more TV game shows changed, the more they stayed the same.

I loved Jack Narz of “Seven Keys” (the only game show taping I ever attended in my life was as a youngster at the ABC studios in Los Angeles for “Keys”) and his brother, Tom Kennedy, who gave contestants a daily opportunity to go home with a new car on “Split Second”, who had found earlier success on “You Don’t Say” and who brought down the house on “Split Second” one day when he used the phrase as a topper to a contestant’s rejoinder to one of that day’s game’s questions.

And boy, did I love the home game versions of these shows. God bless toy and game manufacturer Milton Bradley, maker of many a home version of TV game shows, which eventually got swallowed up by Hasbro in 1984. An ominous year, indeed.

I could go on and on. Much as I’d love to do so, the point of all of this is that I want to draw attention to an article I just found at Slate.com, in which Justin Peters recounts his recent experience as a contestant on “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire”. It’s a marvelous story he tells, and like all good stories, it contains a rise, a fall and another rising.  Did he win the big money? No; as the story makes clear, the show has made it extremely difficult to walk home with a million bucks any more (during the show’s first season, “the insurance company that paid out the big jackpots actually sued the show’s creators because the game was too easy”).  But the most important thing he got from it was that sometimes, you just need to take the shot; worrying about winning or losing doesn’t have to be the most important factor. Sure, everyone wants to be a winner, but the game’s structure actually rewards cowardice when you get up to where the big-money questions are: do I really want to risk $250,000 on a guess and the chance to go for a half-a-million bucks, or wouldn’t it really be more prudent to go home with the quarter-mil?

Anyway, here’s the link: I Wanted to Be a Millionaire. If you’re a game show fan, like me (or even somewhat less fanatical about game shows than I am), you should read this.

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The Element of Surprise

In earlier posts I’ve mentioned the element of surprise being (IMO) a necessary attribute of art, and I’ve also talked about the Table of Elements with regard to the now-defunct TV series “Breaking Bad”.  A recent search for (of all things) Tom Clancy at amazon.com lead to a T-shirt that combines the best of both worlds.

Check it out: The Element of Surprise!

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The “Warbler” done good!

I’m normally not a huge fan of Mariah Carey; she has this seeming inability to stay put on any single note of the scale for very long (like probably a half a second at most) before she can’t resist the temptation to go warbling off into at least 5 or 6 other notes.  OK, so maybe I’m exaggerating a little, but not that much. Anyway, there’s a nice article at Slate.com that talks about the wonderfulness that is her Christmas song, “All I Want For Christmas Is You”.  I love this article for a couple of reasons, not the least of which is the idea that I actually understand what the author is talking about when he notes that “the most Christmassy chord of all—a minor subdominant, or ‘iv,’ chord with an added 6″ can also be looked as as “a half-diminished ‘ii’ 7th chord”.  Thanks go to my freshman college year music theory teacher, Mr. Jett, who let me take his class even though it was the second semester music theory class for which I accidentally signed up on registration day without having taken the first semester class.  I imagine I got away with this faux pas due to the fact that in 1974, college class registration activities didn’t yet take place online, and so there was no software guardian at the gates keeping me from committing said act of musical education heresy.

But to get back to the topic of Mariah Carey, I didn’t know that she was a co-writer of the song; I had just assumed that someone else had written it for her and which she subsequently made her own.  Musically, it’s a fairly complex song, compared to the usual three-chord songs that modern pop music throws at us.

Here’s a link to the article: All I Want For Christmas Is Diminished Chords.

Merry Christmas to all!

 

 

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Chopin’s Heart

I had no idea that Chopin’s heart had become an object of veneration for the Poles. For more information, see this link: http://news.yahoo.com/chopins-heart-exhumed-secret-relic-122237752.html

The secrecy and intrigue that has taken place over the years as a result of Chopin’s deathbed request is the stuff of which Dan Brown books are made. But, apparently, we still don’t know exactly what illness it was that Chopin died from. Since the heart is said, upon recent inspection, to still be in good shape, I guess we can say, at the very least, that he didn’t die of a broken heart.

Ba-dum ching.

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The Church of the Pastafarians marches on!

Woman Claims Spaghetti Strainer as Religious Headwear in Driver’s License Photo

I don’t know why these stories amuse me so much, but they do.  In the previous two posts I’ve put up on this topic, they both occurred in foreign countries (well, foreign to the US, that is), but this is the first one I’ve seen where someone has done this right here in the good ol’ U S of A.  What’s more, it happened in Oklahoma, which I wouldn’t think would be a haven for the liberals more conservative types who would want to do this sort of thing.

Anyway, I guess one should applaud church growth wherever it occurs.

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In which my musical OCD comes to the fore

An article at salon.com used the following illustration:

NeuralNostalgia-MJStern

 

 

 

 

 

 

The number of notes between the bar lines are not consistent with any time signature.  Since the article in question is about why we like the music we heard in our teens, even if it was awful music, I suppose the correctness of the musical notation in the graphic really doesn’t matter. (Does “Sugar Sugar” by The Archies belong in that “awful music” group?)

The illustration could even have been better if an actual song had been used to serve as the source of the musical notation: we could have had some fun figuring out what the song was.

Alas.

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This is why I play the organ

I’m too young to remember anything about silent movies and the theater organs that supplied the musical soundtracks to said films.  I suppose there are very few people around who do at this point.  But there are those in the world who feel it’s important to maintain a place where silent films and theater organs can still be seen and heard.

The guy I had a nodding acquaintance with back in high school who was my main inspiration in deciding that learning to play the organ could possibly be cool played theater organ music at the occasional concert in our school’s theater, and a magnificent theater it was; the school was old enough to have been built at a time when they didn’t cut corners and say, well, we can’t afford to build a real theater, so making the cafeteria a multi-purpose building that can house, at a very basic level, events that deserve to be seen in a real theater will just have to do.  And this same guy who played in our school theater from time to time — when he wanted to go to the trouble of lugging his big ol’ Rodgers three-manual organ over to the theater to give us a concert — also worked at the various pizza parlors up and down the peninsula that where the main draw wasn’t the pizza, but the theater organ music.  The pizza was just there to give you something to physically chew on while you mentally digested the wonderful theater organ music.

Anyway, as I was stumbling around the internet this morning reading the various Robin Williams tributes, there was this link that popped up over at TheAtlantic.com: The Place Where Silent Movies Sing.

Nice to know that there are those around who want to keep the concept and the feeling alive.  If it wasn’t for people like this, I’d be sitting in the congregation every week singing the hymns with the rest of you instead of sitting up on the stand having fun.

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“It definitely gives you chills.”

The previous article on the changes that have taken place in piano design over time eventually led me to Stuart Isacoff’s website (stuartisacoff.net), which, in turn, lead me to a 2012 article about (among other things) the healing properties of music.

Perhaps the most striking moment of the [three-day symposium on “Music, the Brain, Medicine and Wellness”] symposium came when Gottfried Schlaug of Harvard Medical School and the Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center revealed the results of an approach he has developed, called auditory-motor mapping training, using pitch and rhythm to heal autistic children who are incapable of speaking. A video camera captured a boy, almost 5 years old, at various stages of the treatment: Although unresponsive at the beginning, after 10 sessions he suddenly uttered a word: “bubbles.” It was the moment at which his parents heard his voice for the very first time. (Autistic children love anything that makes bubbles, noted Dr. Schlaug.) After 40 sessions, he was speaking simple sentences as well as his name. As this progress played out on screen, a gasp went up from the entire audience. It was a dramatic example of how music is now being employed to revive dormant pathways in the brain.

Other articles I’ve found and mentioned here talk about, for example, how music can help bring Alzheimer’s patients out of their shells.  Scientists typically look for explanations as to how and why these kinds of things happen, and tend to be somewhat “clinical” in their observations in these areas. But Stuart Isacoff, much more interested in the magic that results from exposure to music presses the point:

As the program went on, my trepidation about encountering what Friedrich Schiller called “the disenchantment of the world” seemed unfounded. Nevertheless, I decided to check on the emotional temperature of the scientists by conferring with Dr. Schlaug. Did he find this work as miraculous as I did?

“Sometimes something looks like a miracle, but it comes about through knowledge and skill. There is some explanation for the outcome,” he stated.

Still, I ask, wasn’t it emotionally jolting when that little autistic boy began to speak? “We have several children who have spoken for the first time,” he replied. “We had stroke patients who couldn’t speak, but we got them to sing. It keeps me going to find ways to coax the brain into doing something it is not doing. But it’s not about me—it’s about the patient and the patient’s family.”

“But,” I insisted, looking for agreement that this stuff is, indeed, magical, “doesn’t it give you chills?”

“Yes,” he conceded with a smile. “It definitely gives you chills.”

 

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This should have been obvious. Duh.

An article at theatlantic.com has done a fine job of pointing out the obvious to someone (like me!) who just takes pianos (or, to get to the point, pianofortes) for granted:

When the piano was invented some 300 years ago, it was a technological marvel. The harpsichord could produce sound plucked at a single volume level, but the piano allowed for the kind of nuance you might expect from a viola or bassoon. A piano’s hammer mechanism meant that a player could strike a key and vibrate the instrument’s strings to produce a booming melody one instant and an almost imperceptible one the next.

This new layer of subtlety is what made the piano—short for pianoforte—different than its predecessors when Italian craftsman Bartolomeo Cristofori designed it in the late 1690s. (Pianoforte gets its name from the variation it provided: Piano translates to quiet, forte to loud.)

Who knows how many times I’ve read that “piano” is just an abbreviation for the real name of the instrument? And yet, it never occurred to me that “quiet/loud” is why it’s named what it is.

Anyway, here’s the link to the article: When Is a Piano Not a Piano

It’s a fascinating look at how the pianoforte (I may just have to stop calling them mere “pianos” from here on out) has changed over time.  What we think of when somebody says “piano” is not at all what the earliest versions of them looked like.  In fact, they were origianally fragile instruments that would break under the pounding given them by people like Beethoven:

And though early pianos could produce both airy and thundering volumes, the instruments themselves couldn’t always withstand the stylings of a fervent player—at least not until 1825 when the first iron-framed piano was patented. Pianos would crack apart under the hands of the instrument’s early rockstars. “Before the iron frame, you had composers like Beethoven breaking pianos as they played them onstage,” Isacoff said. “The instruments could not withstand the power of the players.”

Certain innovations in piano keyboard structure that were predicted to be the standard (like a curved keyboard that would be easier on the pianist’s wrists; you Microsoft PC keyboard people might appreciate that concept) never took off.

My favorite quote from the article:

“This raises the question of whether an electric piano is really a piano or not,” [Stuart] Isacoff said. “I’m on dangerous ground because, as a pianist who’s in love with the acoustic instrument, I’m tempted to say ‘no, it’s not,’ at which point people start throwing things at my head.”

Oh, to be able to afford the latest and greatest in Yamaha Clavinova technology…

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Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain

And the beat goes on, the beat goes on
Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain
La de da de de, la de da de da — Sonny and Cher

Everyone’s favorite singing duo (you know, the ones who tortured Bill Murray with the sure knowledge that today was going to be a lot like yesterday) were apparently right about that brain rhythm beat thing.

According to this story at NPR.org, our brains are filled with little bitty clocks that all beat at different rhythms.  You can imagine what it would sound like to be in a room where everyone in the room is given a drum and starts beating out whatever rhythm they feel like doing.  You get chaos.  But the strange thing is that when these people start listening to each other, they start to coordinate with each other, and pretty soon the rhythmic chaos becomes less chaotic.  Our brains apparently do the same kind of thing.

This is important because when brain cells fire at the same time, the connections between them get stronger, which is critical to how memories are formed and how we learn things.

We do things, such as walking, or dancing, that are repetitive and rhythmic. And when people who are afflicted with diseases that affect the nervous system, such as Parkinson’s Disease, are exposed to music, it can help to lessen the symptoms of the tremors which are basically caused by out-of-sync rhythms in the brain.

Go read the article at the link up there, and prepare to be amazed, yet again, as to how important music is to the proper functioning of our physical bodies.

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