FAIL BETTER!

I caught Edward Albee being interviewed on the Charlie Rose show last night. Being a fan of his works I’ve either read or rehearsed, and having met him briefly some ten years ago (Mr. Albee mentored an experimental Theatre piece that I was involved in as a performer), I stopped the pre-sleep channel surf to listen. I was half way to Slumberland, when I heard the following quote that Albee prefaced with, “Didn’t [Samuel]Beckett say…”

“Every time you write, fail, fail again, and then fail better.”

That’s what I remember hearing, and that’s what I toted into my subconscious.

It stuck, even though by wake-up I wondered if I'd misheard; I was betting that Mr. Albee gets his Beckett quotes squared before employing them so I hit the Google, and discovered two versions, before following the tangent explained below said quote[s]:

“Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.”

&

“Go on failing. Go on. Only next time, try to fail better.”

– Samuel Beckett

My detour, from the Beckett search, lasted for the better part of my Wednesday morning. I had stumbled upon an essay by a previously unknown [to me] writer named Zadie Smith. Apparently, she has garnered much attention in her native UK, since making her initial splash whilst at Cambridge. I fell for her essay entitled “Fail Better”, for far more than the title she surely pinched from the Beckett quote: it was like finding yet another useful reminder of why some of us set out to write, sometimes for no audience but the one staring at the screen, through our own idiosyncratic prisms.

After getting through the essay and wanting more Zadie Smith (who is as stunning as she is talented, what!), I found a short story she’d had published in “The New Yorker”, September of 2004. It is called “Hanwell in Hell”, and all I can say is that I’m now eagerly wanting to read more Zadie Smith: precisely what every writer would like to hear from those who encounter their words…

Thanks & Goodnight Sydney!

Sydney Pollack has shuffled off his mortal coil, and I felt the need to join in the chorus of well-wishing as this big soul prepares his next production in the heavens. I never had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Pollack in the flesh, but like many other film buffs and actors, I regarded him as one of the giants. He was a favorite before I even had a grasp of what a director did, all I knew was that the name accompanying the title "Director" of a couple of the pictures I loved was Sydney Pollack.
I remember enjoying the study of "Three Days of the Condor" in one of my film classes in college, not because it was new to me, by then I'd seen the film at least 4 times ("Jeremiah Johnson" at least as many times before high school was done), but because de-constructing the work illuminated the director's hand in making such a tightly suspenseful entertainment. For starters, the script is excellent, but it is, in my opinion, Pollack's trust in his actors that elevated the film to timeless classic.
Sydney Pollack studied with Sanford Meisner at the Neighborhood Playhouse, and penned the introduction to "Sanford Meisner on Acting", an excellent book about the technique that I studied over 17 years ago. My teacher, Martin Barter, was Sandy's right hand for a time (as Mr. Pollack was once) and I was lucky to meet Mr. Meisner as he was best man at Marty's wedding. Marty used to say (in keeping with one of Sandy's teachings no doubt) that, "...it takes 20 years to become an actor. "

I think of these things now, because of Sydney Pollack's passing, but mostly because I'm dusting off sensations that were shelved 5 years ago in a miscalculated effort to be a diligent spouse. My love for the crafts of acting, directing, writing, the theatre, cinema, & respect for the rich traditions are directly attributable to teachers/examples like Sydney Pollack, Sandy Meisner, and especially Marty Barter. Because of their respect for art, and the humility with which they were able to share knowledge, there are thousands like myself who will always be grateful, and maybe just a little more aware of the real effort that goes into making memorable works like "Tootsie" or "Out of Africa".
Remembering the greats, and keeping a healthy respect for the creative process seems a bit dear in this age of instant celebrity and fame.
????Why???? bother working for 20 years on becoming an artist when you can just eat bugs on TV, or bounce a skanky ass in front of a webcam during a perfunctory screw: these are the efforts that earn book and film deals now...

"Love the art in yourself, and not yourself in the art"
This is one of Marty's quotes that I never had to write down in order to remember. I'm guessing that Sydney Pollack practiced some variation of this, and that is why 20 years down the road we'll still appreciate his life's work, while struggling to recall the names of what passes for "talent" today.
As there's not much else I know how to do (kudos to Brian- writer/wit/friend who so eloquently summed up an artist's secret motivation), I resume seeking the art in myself, and I vow to shelve the skanky-ass-on-webcam plans...

Like minds, or another swindle from Oz???

An excerpt from the Wikipedia entry for "Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!":

On the band's official website, Cave wrote about his inspiration for the album: "Ever since I can remember hearing the Lazarus story, when I was a kid, you know, back in church, I was disturbed and worried by it. Traumatized, actually. We are all, of course, in awe of the greatest of Christ's miracles - raising a man from the dead - but I couldn't help but wonder how Lazarus felt about it. As a child it gave me the creeps, to be honest. I've taken Lazarus and stuck him in New York City, in order to give the song, a hip, contemporary feel. I was also thinking about Harry Houdini who spent a lot of his life trying to debunk the spiritualists who were cashing in on the bereaved. He believed there was nothing going on beyond the grave. He was the second greatest escapologist, Harry was, Lazarus, of course, being the greatest. I wanted to create a kind of vehicle, a medium, for Houdini to speak to us if he so desires, you know, from beyond the grave."

I heard "Hang On To Yourself" on a Friday night during the first week of April. The show was "This is only a Test" on WFUV FM here in NYC, one of the only radio stations I can listen to without feeling I'm on the hamster wheel of shit, with looping soundtrack piped into the collective conscious by one of ?3? companies now??
The other stations on my presets are WBGO (JAZZ for folks who'd prefer a kick to the liver instead of hearing "SmoothJazz"), WFMU (my favorite independent channel), and WNYC (my radio's homepage)

My first post here, dated March 15th & outlining my reasons for creating this site, is eerily & coincidentally similar to what Cave mentions as inspiration for this new album.
I haven't been able to locate a date for his initial post so I'll claim that old Lazarus spoke to me first, & then gently accuse old Nick of pinching a bit of my Lazarus fixation; the goal being to shake him down for some prime seats at the concerts he'll surely have in NY. within a couple of months. GOT THAT NICK!!!??!! ARE YOU LISTENING MATE!???

Thoughts exist on a plane we can neither see nor touch. They are sometimes shared over great distances without so much as a whisper to shuttle them along. What is so strange about Nick Cave sharing a fascination that I have with an old biblical tale?
Lazarus must be a source of wonder to far more than just two guys on opposite ends of this planet!

Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds have been one of my favorites since 1988-89, when a college sweetheart, Pamela, made me a mix tape that included the soundtrack for "Wings of Desire": one of the 3 best films of the '80s. I was blown away when I heard "From Her to Eternity", and grateful for music that wasn't the generic 'Hair Metal' that stuck around until the Seattle Sound finally spread.
I was thrilled upon hearing there was a new album, loved the song I'd heard on the radio, and then the album's title... I took it as a sign that "The Lazarus Taxon", my new I-SAY*, was worth nurturing.
(I concur w/Chee, who has not yet settled on an alternate descriptor for the hapless word: calling it "BLOG" sucks)

Cheers to Mr. Cave & the Bad Seeds for yet another spectacular album. There are plenty of music critics who can offer more comprehensive, critically critical critiques, so I'll just say that if you're into smart lyrics, that move and amuse amidst a wash of sometimes ghostly, soaring guitars, and consistent tight arrangements, then you'll appreciate this effort too.

Another plug for a band I first heard on the same show that brought "Dig..." to my attention: The Duke Spirit. They ought to be huge! Leila Moss is the sexy lead singer with a voice that seems an improbable/incredible blend of early Grace Slick + Johnette Napolitano of Concrete Blonde + Bjork. No need to imagine it, just listen.
Note to the producers of the 007 series: Amy Winehouse whilst talented, is a flippin' mess & you should be relieved that she turned down the offer, get Leila Moss while she's on the rise...


*The "I-SAY" is my version of "BLOG". Permission to employ the term granted on a case by case basis, so please make requests eloquent, and heartfelt if you wish for thoughtful consideration. - L.Taxon