My Favorite Under-Appreciated Songs from Disney Animated Feature-Length Films By Decade (Part 2)

1960s: "Sister Suffragette" from Mary Poppins (1964)
Richard M. Sherman & Robert B. Sherman; Performed by Glynis Johns

I had to stray from the animated films because the '60s brought us only three animated Disney films, none of the songs from which I felt were truly under-appreciated gems. So, I'll hop on over to the very slightly animated Mary Poppins. No one can deny that Mary Poppins is "practically perfect in every way" precisely because of its star Julie Andrews. However, we often forget that the charismatic Glynis Johns was also in the film. Her character unfortunately takes a backseat to David Tomlinson's Mr. Banks. In the film's first minutes, though, we are treated to a rousing call-to-arms for a woman's right to vote by the fervidly political Mrs. Banks. It's the only song that really delves into any sort of historical context for the film, and it does provide a reason for why Mrs. Banks is so preoccupied that she needs a nanny in the first place. I find the song stirring and Johns' performance so charismatic, it makes me want to be clapped in irons right alongside Mrs. Pankhurst!

Runner-up: "That's What Friends Are For" from The Jungle Book (1967)

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1970s: "Someone's Waiting For You" from The Rescuers (1977)
Sammy Fain, Carol Connors & Ayn Robbins; Performed by Shelby Flint

Sadly the only entry in this list to feature female songwriters, this heart-breaking song occurs right when all hope seems lost for little Penny. It's an unassuming '70s pop ballad that simultaneously evokes faith and hopelessness. The encouraging lyrics are in direct contrast with Penny's dire on-screen situation:

Be brave little one
Make a wish for each sad little tear
Hold your head up though no one is near
Someone's waiting for you

The thing is, Penny is an orphan. So, there isn't anyone waiting for her. So, the song really drives home just how alone Penny is in the world. Also, cool cameo of Bambi and Bambi's mom during the sequence. Of course, those memories don't necessarily evoke happy thoughts either. Damn, this song is sad!

Runner-up: "Little Black Rain Cloud" from The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (1977)

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1980s: "Why Should I Worry?" from Oliver & Company (1988)
Dan Hartman & Charlie Midnight; Performed by Billy Joel

Before the so-called "Disney Renaissance" took off with The Little Mermaid in 1989, the oft-forgotten Oliver & Company was released. In this loose adaptation of Dickens' Oliver Twist, a Jack Russell terrier named Dodger (as in, "The Artful") takes over the screen with this infectious pop-rock New York-loving anthem. Who else to sing this song than Billy Joel? Through the song's lyrics, we understand Dodger's outlook on life (a precursor to the more popular "Hakuna Matata"); through the song's music, we understand that Dodger is just so cool! He even literally stops traffic by rallying all the dogs of New York to strut with him!

Runner-up: The rest of the soundtrack from Oliver & Company
I think Oliver & Company actually features some great songwriting. It's just a shame that the story itself isn't quite so compelling. But with moments like Better Midler's "Perfect Isn't Easy," or the touching tune of friendship "Good Company," the song list for the film is fun, varied, and contemporary.

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Let me know your picks for under-appreciated Disney songs from the '60s, '70s, and '80s! My choices for the most recent decades will be revealed next week!

A Turn-of-the-20th-Century Kind of Guy

Portrait of Igor Stravinsky by Robert Delaunay

I've written before about how I'm trying to listen to music that I actually enjoy. I've been noticing a trend when it comes to listening to classical music. My heart seems to respond the most to pieces that were written around the transition into the 1900s. And these can be by composers who range from the tail end of the classical period, to the thick of the romantic period, to the first half of 20th century music: Beethoven, Brahms, Chopin, Debussy, Stravinsky, Mahler, Tchaikovsky, Gershwin, Copland, and even Joplin's ragtime music leading us into early jazz, and the likes of Kurt Weill and Cole Porter in musical theatre.

I'm trying to put my finger on what exactly stirs me up about these works. I think it's because from the Romantic period onward, deep emotion and self-expression became strongly appreciated in composition. Composers began to break from the conventions of the classical era, all the while utilizing all the "tricks of the trade" to create works that were at times epic and sweeping, at others solemn and introspective. Programmatic music became really popular at this time as well, with composers painting scenes or telling stories through their music - Beethoven's 6th and Stravinsky's Firebird come to mind. This emphasis on emotion carried on into the 20th century world of Expressionism, though I often feel a bit emotionally alienated by the exploration of atonality by Schoenberg and others. And while I appreciate a lot of the deconstructive work of late 20th century composers, I often find that I don't necessarily want to sit and listen to their work.

Not sure if Fantasia 2000 ruined or revitalized Respighi's Pines of Rome for me...

Now, I'm NOT a musicologist. There are probably all sorts of exceptions to everything I wrote above. And, of course, emotion and self-expression have continued to be a compositional value to this day (just listen to film scores!). But there's this turn-of-the-twentieth sweet spot for me; I really identify with what the major composers were trying to accomplish. They were using the existing musical sensibilities and conventions of their day to capture listener's hearts. What could be more musical theatre than that?

The Joy of Listening

Because I was a Music Major, I put a lot of pressure on myself to "be on top of" music. I have lists of music (ranging from classical to jazz to musical theatre to pop to film score) I SHOULD listen to -- and not just listen to, but analyze and form intelligent thoughts about. "Maybe I'll rent a score from Cal's Music Library and map out a symphony's harmonic structure! For fun," I tell myself. But the inevitable result is that I feel defeated and then don't want to listen to anything.

Recently, I listened to Michael Ian Black's podcast "How To Be Amazing" and someone was talking about the best way to experience an art museum. Instead of trying to see everything in a museum, a more enjoyable experience is to realize the amount of time you have and focus on a few select exhibits appropriate to that amount of time. Of course, a moment of discovery might occur that takes you off your path, but going into the museum with the goal of seeing everything is a fool's errand. Sure, you may see everything by the end, but will you actually have enjoyed the experience? I've found that by around the two-hour mark in a museum, my mind is completely shot -- and I haven't even seen half of what's on display! Why not select the things that I think I might actually be interested in?

So, I'm trying to approach listening to music this way. Try to listen to things I might actually enjoy. And if I don't enjoy it, that's OK. Move on. And of course, stay open to surprise discoveries. This is a far cry from feeling like I need to put myself through self-inflicted grad school. I believed the lie that I had to academically analyze every piece of music I listened to. And by doing so, I sucked the joy out of listening to music entirely.

Last week, I started listening to Stravinsky, because I remember that I enjoyed his work in college. And I've found, I indeed enjoy his work today! This guy is dope and a little cray! I don't have his scores in front of me, and I'm not going to write an essay about what makes his music so great (other than to say he's dope and a little cray). I just ENJOY it, and I'm trusting that somehow I'm unconsciously picking up on why. Maybe one day I'll dig deeper, but again, the motivation should be because I actually enjoy doing so - not because I feel like I have to please the Asian academic gods in my head.

Calafia Begins

In December 2013, I learned that the State of California was probably named after a mythical Island of California which appears in 15th and 16th century Spanish lore. In the most popular story by Garci Rodríguez de Montalvo, the island is occupied by an Amazon-like race of dark-skinned, warrior women whose queen is Calafia. I found myself fascinated by this fictional woman - the leader of her female-only tribe. I was fascinated that someone who was both a woman and a woman of color was presented in such a mighty, awe-inspiring, and typically masculine way.

Unfortunately, the story of Calafia doesn't end the way I would like. She converts to Christianity in the end and marries a man, ultimately showing that the ways of the Lord can subdue even the most brutish of savages. No. Thank. You.

Fortunately, Garci Rodríguez de Montalvo himself gives me a way around. The backdrop of Calafia's story is the battle for Constantinople between the Byzantines and the Ottomans in the 1400's. History tells us that the Ottomans defeated the Byzantines in 1453 and took back this important city. However, in Montalvo's story, it is the Byzantines who are victorious. Read: it is the Christians who defeat the Muslims in his version.

I figure, if Montalvo thought it fit to change history in order to suit his storytelling desires, then I don't particularly feel the need to stay absolutely true to his story. Read: In my adaptation of Calafia, she will not be submitting to a man or converting to Christianity. I actually don't yet know what Calafia will be doing in my adaptation. But one thing I do know: I want the show to feature a "wall of women" as its primary musical source.

So what does that mean? A month ago, I had only vague notions. But in May 2016, I invited eight incredible female actors to join me for what I called a "voice and sound exploration workshop." Thanks to support from the Playwrights Foundation, I was able to get time and space to conduct the workshop. Since this will be a story about a race of isolated women who never actually existed, I was intrigued by how to find sounds that were simultaneously primal and other-worldly.

We often typify women's voices as higher-pitched, softer and sweeter. But women's voices are so much more dynamic than we give them credit for. Sure they can soothe, squeal and scream, but they can also shriek, groan, grunt, moan, command and overpower. And let me tell you, these actors did not hold back in exploring all of these sounds unabashedly and freely. I found myself utterly speechless at moments as I beheld what the eight of them could bring out from within them. I am utterly thankful to these colleagues for being willing to experiment, be vulnerable and weird, and to let me listen to them for three hours.

I'm not entirely sure what this all means for the next steps of Calafia. I only know that I've now taken a huge creative step forward by having this sound workshop. Calafia is officially my next musical theatre project.

Thoughts on History - Japan's Victory in the Japanese-Russian War

Previously posted on Facebook

Two years ago, I couldn't have cared less what the Japanese-Russian war of 1904-1905 was and what it meant.

While reading and researching Four Immigrants Manga, however, I learned that the Japanese victory in the war meant a great deal of pride for an Asian nation that was trying to prove its might in the face of Western super-powers. And I thought, "I get that. How cool for the Japanese at that time to feel proud of that victory." A sort of "We've finally arrived; we'll finally be taken seriously" kind of moment.

But while reading Quiet Odyssey, a first-hand account of Mary Paik Lee - a first-generation Korean immigrant who came to the US in 1904, that thought has been colored differently. In her memoirs, Lee explains that her family fled Korea in order to escape the Japanese in the aftermath of the Japanese-Russian war. The Japanese victory had opened the door for Japanese occupation of the Korean Peninsula, thus leading to nearly half-a-century of devastating violence against and oppression of the Korean people. This leads to the Pacific events of World War II, which leads to the splitting of Korea along the 38th parallel, which leads to the Korean War, which leads directly to the hardships of my parents - both born just a year before the Korean War began.

Which leads eventually to their desire for a better life in the States, which somehow, oddly enough, leads to my existence.

(Incidentally, all this also leads to the recent Sony Pictures fiasco - not my parents' hardships or me being born, but the stuff before that.)

This simultaneously blows my mind and hurts it. Because we want these things to be easy narratives. We want things to be obviously good or obviously bad. Or at least mostly one or the other. But it almost feels like cause-and-effect just goes on automatic, and it doesn't come with a predetermined meaning. I read into it the meaning I can gather, and the danger is that I will fail to realize that every story doesn't just have another side, but has perhaps an infinite number of sides.

There's also a danger in forgetting that I am not an objective observer of history's chains of events. That I come to it with my well-thought reasoning, my less-well-thought speculations, and my unconsciously active prejudices.

For the record, this is not me being angry at the Japanese or trying to place blame ("After all, I have Japanese friends!" wink-wink). I think it's just another instance of awe in the face of history's complexity.

Now... if I could just make a musical out of all this...