THEME THURSDAY: Green Up Time

I've been listening to a lot of Lotte Lenya lately. One of my favorites his her rendition of her husband Kurt Weill's "Green Up Time". It's fitting for March in San Francisco.

Northern California has a change of seasons but nothing like the four seasons of the rest of the country. Fortunately we don't have too terrible of heat through the year, and we have nothing that could be called winter. In fact, when the rest of the country is dark and brown, it's green here, reaching its peak around mid-March just as the rest of the country is emerging out of winter.That's not to say that plants get confused such as my Christmas cactus that has just started blooming.When I thought about the green theme for today, I first thought that while I don't dislike the color green I just don't have that much of it in my house. As is often the case, if I look around and closely, I can find a lot more of it. At one point, my kitchen was the same color as this collection.
Even one of my favorite globes features a green ocean.
When I decided last weekend that I need one more Beehouse tea pot, why was I drawn to this one?And though I don't give it tbat much thought each day, I have to remember that my living room also is green.

On that note, I close with this video I found of the aforemention "Green Up Time" that has nothing to do with this theme besides the song and that the three words "Europe again soon" have run through my head a lot this week.

Winter Light, Winter Dark

There is something about early February that can always be tricky, especially if you live in northern California. We don't have a real winter here, but we have the rainy season. It doesn't get cold here (some idiots here call 45 degrees "cold"). But it gets wet, and we are deprived of my favorite type of light -- winter light.

The light in winter is so precious and stingy. I despise sunny, summer days, and I usually can't stand having direct sun on my skin -- except in winter. It is so delicate and precarious, hopeful and faint.

Winter Light is the title of one my favorite Bergman movies in which villagers question their faith in the nuclear age. I've been watching a lot of Bergman this winter -- currently on Wild Strawberries. It doesn't depress me, especially in the winter. Winter Light is also the title of one of my favorite Linda Ronstadt albums. While I will concede it's not her greatest, I think it's her most under-rated work. It's all about the warmth of home on a cold night, a beacon in the snow, to my mind at least.

Besides watching the Kurt Gerron bio-doc Prisoner in Paradise (dark, sad, fatalistic) I've been listening to a lot of Brecht and Weill. I became entranced by Brecht and Weill around age four when my pre-school played an instrumental version of the tunes from Die Dreigroschenoper. These two figured heavy in my life before Peter, Paul & Mary or the Beatles and still play a larger role. Brecht and Weill are perfect tunes for mid-winter nights, like a defiant cold fist in the face of adversity.

I have been transferring some of my favorite Deutsche Grammophon LPs of Weill and Brecht, especially those with Gisela May. Ah, Gisela May! No one holds a candle to Lenya's Weill recordings except for May.

There seems to be so much sadness and uncertainty in February -- from J.D. Salinger dying to those Teabaggers meeting in Nashville, like Weimar vermin trolling through the grave of Reagan to yank shreds of his rotting brain from his crypt in Simi Valley. All that talk of reviving Jim Crow literacy requirements and denying voting privileges to all non-English speakers and "celebrating" Reagan's 99th birthday. Watch out folks, are you ready to stomach a Reagan centennial next year that will culminate in 2012 right on target with the cataclysmic Mayan calendar? There was recently a move in the Bay Area to rename Mount Diablo to Mount Reagan. Wouldn't that be redundant? If it's called Mount Diablo, isn't it already named after Reagan?

But let's not dwell too much on the dark. Only a little over 1,100 cretins attended that teabag gig. Spring is around the corner. And there is plenty more Brecht and Weill to lift one's spirit

Dagmar's Deutsche Miserie

The weather in San Francisco has been horrific this weekend. After an almost too cool few days early in the week, we've had nearly 80 degree temperatures the past two days, making it miserable to be outside but requiring frequent trips into the heat to water plants that aren't accustomed to such horrible temperatures.

That's forced me to be inside much of the weekend but a good chance to complete Lenya Legacy DVD. Those interested in getting a copy can let me know. It's essentially a compilation of (mainly) Brecht/Weill songs introduced by Lotte Lenya and a rare, short documentary on her life and legacy. Mina Mazzini, Hildegard Knef, Nina Simone and Gisela May are all on hand, singing in a variety of languages.

The real joy of this, however, was discovering this very rare clip of Dagmar Krause singing "Surabaya Johnny". I only wish that it were in German, but she's no less dramatic in English. It reminds me why I think no one is better qualified to carry the torch of Lenya and Weill.

Little Dagmar came close to destroying at least a couple of my past relationships as I relentlessly played and played her definitive 1986 release Supply & Demand in which she sang the well known tunes of Brecht/Weill and the much lesser known but even more fascinating songs of Brecht/Eisler, the latter composed during their exile in Hollywood. Brecht and Weill were often praised for their sweet/sour or yin/yang combination, but Brecht and Eisler were more yang/yang, both ardent Communists and a much more intense, didactic experience.

And no one is better equipped to sing tunes like "Deutsche Miserie" and "The Lilly of Hell" than little Dagmar, the pint-sized red head sometimes called "The Voice of Armageddon". Hey, I'd take her over Mariah Carey any day.

I've also been listening to a good number of Dagmar's 1970s tunes with the pop band Slapp Happy, a German group that released mainly English language tunes.

Lonely House

I've been a bit too busy with work-related projects (albeit very interesting and sometimes profound encounters) the past two weeks that have made me neglect this blog and all of its silliness. Last week I heard Jane Goodall and Sir Bob Geldoff speak, the latter taking a wonderfully profane and provocative stab at American's global philanthropy. On top of that, I was almost going to have the chance to hear Desmond Tutu speak this week but graciously gave up my spot to a board member.

All of this has made me think about abandoning this blog, starting a parallel "serious/real" one or merging them all in the same stew.

After a week and a half where I probably met 400 people, tonight I am cherishing solitude and being in my creaking pre-earthquake home with my cat. I've been listening to Lotte Lenya in heavy rotation today. In theory a "Broadway singer" I equate her to being more a political/folk singer, and remember Dylan speaking of her influence on him. And, remember, in theory, I hate the whole thought of Broadway belters, divas and Judy imitators. Lenya, is none of those. She is just a lonely of Viennese woman I first encountered in 1972. I have vivid memories of her singing the "Bilbao Song" on The Dick Cavett Show that same year and was never able to listen to mainstream pop afterwards. Streisand, that Madonna creature, Celine, etc. Bleh! They are mere vapid, money grubbing capitalist pretenders in the shadow of Lenya.

I am also working on a DVD compilation I'm tentatively calling Lenya Legacy that includes a rare documentary on her life, live performances and people whose style she influence -- from Gisela May to Nina Simone to Betty Carter. (For the record, I despise Teresa Statas' attempts to hold herself up as the worthy successor to Lenya's legancy. Her arch, formal approach missed all that was special about Lenya. I vote for Dagmar Krause, not her.) The best description I've come across of Lenya is that she had a voice that "sounded like that of a child that had seen things it should not have seen". Even after the war, having been abused as a child, working as a teen prostitute, starring in Cabaret, and even working with Burt Reynolds, there was so much quivering innocence in her voice, a broken heart that had been stitched together and was able to shine light in the darkest alleys.

I think my favorite song she sang was "Lonely House". If you've not heard her version, I hope you take time to hit the link. There's something at once hilarious and deeply moving about how she hits those notes to belt out "even STRAY DOGS find a friend". While I consider Nina Simone's take on "Pirate Jenny" to be a definitive song of my youth, I have to say the rendition of "Lonely House" by Betty Carter below comes close to matching it. I need to be giving thoughts to compiling a similar DVD on Betty Carter.

Fully Restored and On Its Way

Oh, it is an automated response like the one that just popped up advising me that my two-disc Criterion edition reissue of G.W. Pabst's Dreigrossenoper has shipped and will be arriving just before my birthday that makes life worth living. This gets me more excited than a furry little guy under 5'9" with lots of attitude and style. Well, maybe equally excited. Send me him and the DVD and I'd be humming The Ballad of Immoral Earnings into the wee hours of the night.
UPDATE: Ah, leben ist gut. Leben ist sehr gut.

Shaken, Not Stirred

Though easy to miss on that stretch of Market between 4th and 5th, this entry is one of JunkThief's favorite Union Square buildings and always evokes images of some really cool Cantonese retake of the 007 franchise -- though perhaps with more smoke and water than martinis. Now that JunkThief knows that he has the opportunity to see From Russia With (yes, thanks Tugboat Dave) Love at the Castro, he's shaken, not stirred to attend. (Sorry, that one was just waiting out there.)

Lenya Uber Alles! Sie Macht Eine Köstliche Number Drei

It's no secret that JunkThief loves Lotte Lenya and nice looking, sharp dressed men. How those two come together is From Russia to Love From Russia with Love. Now that the Bond franchise has been resurrected for the new Millennium thanks to Kate Moss' ex, a lot of the less familiar old Bond films are being reissued. Though generally well remembered, From Russia to Love From Russia wih Love has been a little hard to find or only available in eight to ten disc sets of all the films from the 1960s and 1970s. JunkThief likes most of the Bond franchise (except Roger Moore, but Timothy Dalton was a lot cuter than many folks gave him credit for), but it's not the first boxed set on JunkThief's list.

A new, beautifully restored version is a nice treat to have here at the JunkPlex.

As Number Three, Lenya is a deliciously butch omnivore, slapping around burly half naked Russians, and letting her finger explore a Soviet lass considering going into espianoge. As a Bond film, it's entertaining, but the screen only sizzles when Mrs. Kurt Weill is on the screen. Sure, her accent is more Vienna and Berlin than Moscow, but it's sure fun to see Pirate Jenny crack that whip once more.

Oh, and just to keep our traffic up, why not flash back to last summer's Casino Royale for a shameless republishing of the beach scene that made everyone forget whatever swimsuit it was that Ursula Andress wore all those years ago. Was there a Bond girl in this version of Casino Royale? JunkThief can't remember.