Another Gem from an Anderson Soundtrack

Lucy and I watched The Darjeeling Limited a few weeks ago. We enjoyed it, but it's hard for me to like a movie as much as I liked the director's earlier Rushmore . Anderson's choice of classic songs for his soundtracks is as sharp as ever, and this song from the closing credits has been stuck in my head ever since. I even remembered enough of the français I learned from Monsieur Lachance to be further charmed.



It's sung by NYC-born Joe Dassin, who had a string of hits in his adopted France in the 70s, and who recorded songs in a half-dozen languages just to show off. I was going to attempt a translation, but there's a saying that translations are like spouses: the most beautiful ones are seldom faithful, and the most faithful ones are seldom beautiful. My favorite lines are the first and the last:

I was strolling along the avenue, my heart open to the unknown.
At dawn all the birds were singing to Love.

À tout à l'heure!

Where's Jonesy?

The host of LA's quirkiest radio show has gone missing. Steve Jones, the Sex Pistols' guitarist and the reason I bought a Les Paul way back when I had time to play, hasn't shown up for work this week at 103.1 FM. Monday and Tuesday his fellow Pistol Paul Cook filled in, and his accent is so close to Jonesy's that I could at least pretend. Today the guest host was Janeane Garofalo, who was entertaining with an accent all her own, but it just wasn't the same. When "work" consists of clocking in at noon, putting in two grueling hours of playing any songs you want, chatting with celebrity guests and occasionally strumming a guitar, it's not exactly a chore to show up, Steve. Want to trade for a week?

I don't know whose idea it was to give a punk legend his own radio show where he plays music, good and otherwise, from all corners of the musical map from '50's crooners to this week's alternative band, but it's refreshing to hear a playlist you can be certain was not faxed from the station's marketing department. Even if he does play a bit too much Elton John for my taste. Hey, it's his jukebox, and I hope he returns soon.

http://indie1031.com/jonesy`s_jukebo.php

Scientific Apes vs. Religious Apes

There's a new book suggesting Science-with-a-capital-S has become another religion, demanding unthinking adherence to its commandments. Certainly many of the people who do more writing about science than actual science are guilty of trying to create such adherence (with themselves as the voice of authority, naturally), but who is this new Prometheus whose mission it is to free humanity from the shackles of our Darwinist overlords? Self-professed crank David Berlinski, author of such books as A Tour of the Calculus and the new The Devil's Delusion: Atheism and Its Scientific Pretensions.

I had the opportunity to hear Berlinski speak, at Kepler's Books some 8 years ago, and he certainly marches to his own crazy drummer, I'll give him that. The article about his new book on Slate.com mentions his "peculiar, mischievous style," which didn't make his book on calculus (sorry, "the calculus") very enlightening, even to a math geek like me. At Kepler's, the crowd from nearby Stanford kept him busy defending his essay The Deniable Darwin, which doubts the solidity of the theory of natural selection and which is now proudly posted on the Intelligent Design website. I could tell he had no time for people who weren't smart enough to agree with him, and his style was more condescending than mischievous.

The debate will rage forever, though, because the animal nature we possess (whether or not you believe it's accompanied by an angelic nature) makes us divide everything into Us and Them. Uninspired by religion and lacking the curiosity to be a scientist, Berlinski is trying to create a new skeptic pecking order (with him at the top, of course) because we all know to criticize something is to magically rise above it.

Welcome to the 82!

Welcome to the 82 Hotel! In the future you can come here to read my rants - I mean opinions - about books, movies, music and the news, my top ten lists and maybe even an entertaining skit or two. The real 82 Hotel is a restaurant/cafe in Naro Moru, Kenya where I spent many a Saturday lunchtime eating a plate of karanga na chapati, beef stew with chopped up flatbread in it. So think of my blog as your oasis of so-so food in a bustling town on the Equator.

The picture isn't the real 82, but it's close. I'd totally hit Oyugi's Cafeteria, though, because of the words "soda baridi" (cold soda) on the blue column. After an hour of walking you're not put off by concerns about decor and hygiene. Catch you next time!