Poetry is over...
...but it's been an amazing experience.
Poetry is one of those subjects you generally wouldn't study without a particular interest in the subject. "Yeah, poetry's pretty cool I guess," some will say, while others scoff "Pfff, who actually reads poems anymore?" Even my experience with poetry was limited to Shel Silverstein and a brief poetry unit in sophomore English class. While poetry does appear to be a more obscure facet of English literature, it's by no means outdated or old-fashioned. It's just the opposite, in fact; the blog project completed for this class indicates nothing less.
The freedom given to us on this project has allowed us to explore so many different aspects of poetry, everything from Harry Potter to the Black Arts Movement to Lady Gaga. Things that I wouldn't even think to categorize as poetry have been analyzed and critiqued for their poetic devices and impact on the world. The project has shown me just how much reach the poetic word has, and how we are affected without even realizing it.
Thank you, Mrs. Lewis. It's been a fantastic class, one that always lifted my mood and brightened up my day, no matter what the situation. Thank you, other students in the class, for bonding together in the three months we spent together and bringing us closer. Thank you, Walt Whitman, for starting the American poetic movement and inadvertently giving birth to what would later be the best class ever.
At the end of Junior year when I was filling out my schedule, I was overjoyed that Poetry fit in my schedule. I'll be honest, I thought this class would be a breeze. Well, in my opinion, it wasn't. It made me think a lot and express my emotions, and for that I am so extremely happy I took this class.
First off, congratulations to everyone who performed in the musical Man of La Mancha this weekend. You guys were spectacular.
Now, musical performances come in all different forms. Some musicals are entirely ensemble-based, some are led by women, some have plants as the main characters. Some are live, some are filmed (oftentimes, one is adapted from the other!) No matter how it's structured, at its core, the musical is a live performance interspersed with song and dance. This post is going to focus on the differences in live and recorded musicals.
Now, as my musical theater expertise is limited to high school plays and Glee before I stopped watching it (seriously Quinn? Now you want custody?), I won't claim to know exactly what makes a good musical, so bear with me.
One obvious benefit to a filmed musical is the exclusion of errors; no matter how difficult a song or performance may be, the cast can always reshoot it in another take, until they have a satisfactory performance. This gives us the "bloopers" commonly seen at the end of comedy movies, where the failed takes are shown after the movie's been completed.
In contrast, live theater consists of practicing the play over and over again in the hopes that, when you do go on and perform, there are no errors, and if there are, the actors know their characters well enough to cover any slip-ups. This is a much more frightening way to perform, but it's also much more exciting. Take the January 9th, 2004 performance of Wicked:
The platform in "Defying Gravity" (a key element of the song) failed to rise in time. I got a heart attack just watching the video, I can't even imagine how Idina Menzel managed to cover it without an issue. Such is the risk of live theater, but it makes the end result all the more amazing.
Another common aspect of filmed musicals is cutting for time. This isn't just limited to musicals; movies as a whole have a very short amount of time to present their story, and unless you have an incredible movie (or you're James Cameron), you risk losing viewers and money if it goes on too long. In a musical film, this can often lead to shortening or removing songs, but that's not always a bad thing: the 1972 film adaptation of Man of La Mancha managed to trim an entire minute and a half off of the song "I'm Only Thinking Of Him," in a very clever way; it built on the overlapping trio present in the original song to still get the message across effectively.
This is less present in live theater; musicals can and will frequently go on for two and a half hours or more, depending on factors like production values. Still, it's still fairly rare for a full show to be performed; frequently, one of the first things a cast does is decide which parts they'll remove for time.
This is a fairly superficial thing to say, but a film has the definite advantage of looking for specific actors. A screenwriter can write a part and say "I'm feeling Emma Stone for this part" or "I wrote the role with [Alec Baldwin] in mind." Unless it's a huge, big-name theater, a live performance will often have to make due with what they have (one of the reasons why there's so frequently a shortage of males in theater). It's a small thing, but it does exist.
In the end though, the show always pulls through, whether it's live theater, live TV, or a pre-recorded film. Everything always works out for the best (and when it doesn't, the audience usually doesn't know anyway).
What is a haiku?
Why, put simply, a haiku
Is a type of poem
A specific type
With special syllable counts
Five, seven, and five.
From where came haikus?
Why, from Japan, naturally
I'll explain why now.
Japanese language
Is divided into these
Things they call kana.
A kana is but
One unique syllable
That never changes.
So you see, kana
Are excellent for haiku
Not so in English.
Usually, a
Haiku'll be about nature
Trees, wind, and so forth
But, not all the time.
Here's some American ones
About tons of stuff.
Could be serious.
Although, could be humorous;
It's all up to you.
Why write in haiku?
Why restrict yourself so much?
What use does it have?
A haiku is short
Sweet, and to the point. No need
For complex words here.
Perhaps that's just why.
A haiku contains so much
Packed in so little.
The author will count
And compare, and consider
All of his options
Until at last, light!
The perfect combination!
Of word, and image.
And thus, the haiku.
Noble form of poetry
Marches on through time
I can't do it all
I'm not good enough
Six feet under screams, no one seems to hear a thing
My head's about to blow
They tell me all these things
"Do a little dance"
I don't feel like dancing, but I do it anyway
All I want to do is scream, but they can't read my poker face
I'm dancing all alone
But as the days turn into weeks
Now I know the truth
When I look into the mirror
I don't have to be ashamed
And at last I see the light
Who says you're not perfect?
Who says you're not worth it?
Who says you're the only one that's heard it?
It doesn't really matter
We are who we are
Rhyming is commonplace in poetry, nobody can deny that. Although find primarily in children's poetry, it's nonetheless a regular sight in poetic literature as a whole. Rhyme can add a variety of emotions to a poem, but it's usually used in a light-hearted manner (again, children's poetry), or to add a macabre sense of conflicting viewpoints in a poem to highlight one or the other (for example, "Résumé," by Dorothy Parker, rhymes in a sing-song way. It's about the various ways to commit suicide).
But what happens when you change the rhyme? What if you lead the reader on and have them believe you're going to say one word, and then suddenly insert something else entirely? Wikipedia calls this a "mind rhyme." This can end in myriad ways, ranging from humorous, to frustrating, to sickening. Oftentimes a mind rhyme is used as a censor bypass.
Humorous rhyme subversions are the most obvious and most easily-found type. The infamous Alanis Morissette song "Ironic" gives us this:
It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife,It's like meeting the man of my dreams and meeting his beautiful husband
There's plenty of other examples of humorous mind rhymes, but mind rhymes for the purpose of censoring are just as easy to find. One of the most famous examples comes from the classic song by The Killers, "Mr. Brightside."
Now they're going to bed
And my stomach is sick
And it's all in my head
But she's touching his chest
This isn't even a new thing concept, this idea of subverting rhymes. There's even an example found in Hamlet!
Hamlet: For thou dost know, O Damon dear,This realm dismantled wasOf Jove himself; and now reigns hereA very, very—pajock.
(note that in this case "was" is pronounced similar to "ass")
Finally, the ultimate example of a mind rhyme comes in the form of the infamous "Assumption Song:"
So, the other day, I discovered an Lady Gaga song that I'd never heard before: Fashion(not to be confused with one of the songs on her new album, Fashion of His Love). As a huge Gaga fan, I was actually really confused at first; how could I have missed this one? Did I accidentally delete it from my computer? Why didn't I remember this at all?
After poking around for a bit, I found it was actually never released on an album, but was actually written in 2007 for Sex and the City(I've never watched SatC but I'm going to assume this is par for the course). Since it was written in 2007, right before Lady Gaga exploded onto the pop music scene with Just Dance, its style was much closer to the dance-pop music Gaga was known for, rather than the 80's disco inspirational pop ballads (is that even a genre?) of today, in songs like Bad Kids, Hair, and of course, Born This Way.
This got me thinking about how Lady Gaga has evolved over her three years in the mainstream. There's no denying she's a media superstar: Bad Romance is the second-most viewed video in YouTube history, and she's the most-followed user on Twitter, beating out people like Justin Bieber, Oprah Winfrey, and Barack Obama. But how has this all affected the Lady's image and music?
Modern-day Lady Gaga music, while just as loud and synth-pop as before, mixes and matches genres like a musical thrift shop rack. Gaga describes her album, Born This Way, as
"...an avant-garde techno-rock record that is really really heavy and industrial on one end and really joyful and pop on the other. So it is pop music with a very very very strong message and a very uncomfortable message, it intended to give you a sugar high and a terrible stomach ache."
Compare this to her earlier albums, The Fame and The Fame Monster:
"Songs like "Poker Face", "Just Dance" and "LoveGame" are uptempo dance songs, with "Poker Face" carrying a dark sound with clear vocals on the chorus and a pop hook."
"[The Fame Monster] is a pop experimentation with industrial/Goth beats, 90's dance melodies, an obsession with the lyrical genius of 80's melancholic pop, and the runway."
And it's clear that her style has changed dramatically, going from a combination of Madonna and Britney Spears to...a combination of Madonna and more Madonna. Still great either way! In addition, her lyrics have evolved from sexually-charged, late-night club fodder to emotional, heartfelt messages on everything from gay marriage in America to how to style your hair. And while I personally prefer her old style of music, I can appreciate the new direction she's taken.
It's too bad the same can't be said for her fashion sense.
So, lately, I've been listening to a lot of The Baseballs. For those who don't know, The Baseballs are a group of three German men with 70s haircuts who make rock covers of popular American songs. In just two albums, they've covered everything from Rihanna, to Katy Perry, to Plain White Tees, and all the way back to Ke$ha. Whether their take on the songs is an improvement is up to the listener (I personally think their version of Hot 'n' Cold is a thousand times better than the original), it's odd to see how different the same lyrics can sound when performed in another style.
This got me thinking about different interpretations of songs. What about a song gives it a certain feel, a certain ethos (thanks, Creative Spirit!)?
Obviously, the instrumentation plays a big part in it. My god, look what orchestration did for Rebecca Black. Even without vocals, they've turned "Friday" from an unintentionally-hilarious Auto-Tuned mess to an inspirational, swelling ballad.
I'd say that the rhythm of the song can also play a big part in it as well. For example, Justin Bieber slowed down 800% produces an amazing, ambient masterpiece.
The imagery accompanying a song can also influence how you view it, but there are obvious exceptions: even Lord of the Rings won't stop Yakety Sax from making things hilarious.
To illustrate just how far you can take a song, I'm going to show the greatest cover of any song ever. It's so amazing I'm not even going to link it; I'm gonna EMBED this bad boy:
I guess one thing you can take away from all this is that you can't really say you dislike a song, you can only dislike that performance. Some people may hate Super Bass, but hey, throw some adorable British girls and you've got yourself ten million listeners.
My poetry class was recently assigned to read Bob Dylan's song "The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll." The song shocked me, because it wasn't the normal everyday song that you can hear on the radio.
Over the weekend, I took the SAT for the second and final time. For those of you who haven't taken it yet (or have just forgotten how it works), the SAT is broken down into ten sections in total: three of mathematics, three of critical reading, three of writing, and one variable, experimental section. One of the writing sections is also the 25-minute essay, meaning 60% (potentially even 70%!) of the SAT revolves around your skill with words...but all in prose.
I began to wonder why a test so heavily steeped in the English language didn't include a single instance of poetry, but rather paragraphs and paragraphs of prose. Surely, understanding poetry is all about critical reading?
Then I got to wondering about what it actually requires to understand poetry. Obviously, critical reading skills are important, but that can't be all. I scored fairly high on my critical reading section and I still have difficulty fully understanding lots of poems. So I began to investigate: The official SAT information video describes the SAT as a test where "all students from all backgrounds have an equal chance to succeed." Does that mean that not all students can read poetry equally as well?
Well, frankly, not really. Poetry is something that, I believe, needs to be taught. There are certainly instances of genius poets who were self-taught, such as Dorothy Parker or Elizabeth Bartlett, but these are very rare, like a four-leaf clover, or a Red Sox fan who isn't currently foaming at the mouth. In most cases, people have to be taught how to read/write poetry. There are entire guides to understanding poetry, even textbooks!
Poetry needs to understood, examined, scrutinized. It's nearly impossible to glean everything a poem has to offer within one reading, which is why I believe the SAT does not test a student's ability to read poetry: as a test designed to provide equal opportunity to all students, not everyone has the ability or skill to read what a poem has to offer.
After reading cummings' poem, "may i feel said he,"