neither of us were particularly interested in the game. my vikings have been out of the hunt since mid-october and sonja would rather watch paint dry, but time stood still in our home when there was a stop in the action. the commercials dominant most of society's highlight reel for the big game. i wrote a blog about last year's onslaught of clever advertising campaigns, and was underwhelmed by this year's batch. can't they all be as clever as this bud light spot?
the old recording studio addage "time is money" directly applies. the 30-second ads were going for $3.5 million each, leaving no time to slowly unfold your product detail. catch phrases, like good melodies, need to be clearly presented in a memorable and concise fashion. the goal is to get people humming your hook, posting youtube clips of your tv ad, rewinding the dvr to watch it again. i watched the entire game and can't remember any of the commercials.
saxophonist branford marsalis toured with sting back in 1985, promoting the album dream of the blue turtles. mr. sting (per his stolen moments with frank zappa) rounded out his band with drummer omar hakim, bassist daryl jones, and the late kenny kirkland on keyboards. they made bring on the night, a great documentary chock full of the behind-the-scenes rehearsal stuff, interviews, and live footage. somewhere in the middle of the flick, branford talks about the trick to soloing on sting's tunes. he mentioned that, when blowing on pop songs, you need to hit the ground running.
jazz solos are notorious for starting simple, slow burning to a climax that trudie could appreciate . a bass player back in undergrad told me that i needed to quit rolling the energy back to square one every time i took a solo on a tune. i thought he was a jerk, but now i know he was right. i think about branford's commentary often, and am always on the lookout for an opportunity to come out swinging (like sugar ray leonard, not like jimmie lunceford). i want to be aware of what the situation calls for and then contribute appropriately, even if it isn't always in my wheelhouse.
sure was a weird scene at the end of the super bowl when raymond berry, who played a great football game about 50+ years ago, walked the lombardi trophy through a makeshift aisle flanked with members of the new york giants family. players were touching it, random people wearing giants gear were grabbing at it, more players were kissing it, and miscellaneous people with no home training were clutching the trophy and taking pictures of themselves with their phone. is this where technology has taken us? i think i'll pull this stunt at my next show. after the gig, i'll push the barstools aside and get the lubed up listeners to allow me to waltz between them with my horn. touch it all you want, but don't you dare put your lips on it. god knows where they have been.
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