In Date Lab Rat, Anna Bank (editor-in-chief, hopeless romantic) bravely experiments on herself with each week’s installment of the Washington Post’s Date Lab, where the Post tries–and often fails–to fix up applicants.
Looks like the Date Lab team’s strong showing last week was just dumb luck after all. This week’s installment is a complete flop, both in terms of the duo’s romantic prospects and the amount of enjoyment you’ll get from reading it — it’s pretty much a tutorial on how not to set up a successful blind date. But then, that’s why I’m here.
First of all, I don’t know if Date Lab is running low on applicants or if the Post’s matchmaking team overestimated the daters’ appeal. He thinks he has a good sense of humor (who doesn’t?); she says she’s D.C. because she gets “annoyed by tourists who don’t stand on the right when going down Metro escalators” (more like she’s D.C. because she sounds like a witch in a major paper). There doesn’t seem to be anything in either of their questionnaire answers to suggest that they would make a particularly good pair, other than her stated preference for black guys, and that’s not much to go on.
Unsurprisingly, the sparks don’t fly: she’s not attracted to him, he thinks it’s lame that she doesn’t want to order free wine , she freaks out when he puts his arm around her for the photo. He’s nice enough to give the date a 3 out of 5, while she returns the volley with a damning (and weirdly specific) 1.9.
Rating: I’m sure this could be worse somehow. There were no acts of physical violence or outright psychological warfare, but after last week’s turnaround, DL slump is back. I’d give it a 1.
In our new recurring feature Date Lab Rat, Anna Bank (editor-in-chief, hopeless romantic) bravely experiments on herself with each week’s installment of the Washington Post’s Date Lab, where the Post tries to fix up applicants using a secret formula known only to journalists. This week’s installment comes a week late because of problems isolating the case study.
After a recent run of failed fix-ups, Date Lab decided to introduce a new gimmick this week, hoping for a better match or at least some humor value. The trick–having a monkey select the two daters instead of using the Post’s “expert” matchmaking team - was just plain dumb, and given the pair’s similar questionnaire answers (they’re both company project managers and say that there’s either a 99 or 100% chance that they’ll talk to stranger in a bar, although maybe all Date Lab contestants say that), I’m guessing this primate wasn’t given many potential daters to choose from.
Stupid monkey tricks aside, though, this is a pretty high quality edition of Date Lab, and a good intro if you’re new to the feature. Both daters are attracted to one another, which is always fun to read (DL connoisseurs know that the most cringe-worthy sensation is reading a match where one person’s feeling it and the other completely isn’t.) The girl manages to pull off a semi-slick venue change by asking if he wants to go somewhere to watch a basketball game, and the night ends with kisses and text-message follow-up.
Rating, using the DL 1-5: 4. 1 point docked for the gimmick, but as goes Date Lab, so goes my week, and I love when things work out.
Chances of Success: 4. He’s already scraping off expired parking stickers so she won’t get a ticket, completely skipping over the infatuation phase and into domesticity, which makes is seem like this could last for a while. But they both claim to be more sarcastic than they let on during the date, and it’ll be interesting to see what happens when the claws come out.
Georgetown Day’s coming up this Friday, and its website boasts that it will be “one of the community’s most memorable experiences on the Hilltop!”. That’s not exactly the Georgetown Day I remember from last year, but maybe I missed the best stuff–where and what, readers, should every Hoya check out to get the full Georgetown Day experience?
I’ll start. Last year there was a bouncy castle on Leavey Esplanade which was pretty cool if you stood in line for it, and there was a free ice cream in front of the library, which is probably the worst place on campus to give people ice cream in front of. Best of all, the schedule promises Family Hour on Copley Lawn, which sounds like ‘Come on guys, put that beer away, the professors’ kids are here.’ but is actually Elmo and Winnie the Pooh cosplay.
-Will Sommer, Blog Editor. Photo from Flickr user World of Oddy.
At the Green Apple Festival yesterday on the National Mall, fans of the Roots got American Idol runner-up/beatbox extraordinaire Blake Lewis instead. Pulitzer Prize-winning New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman got boos and jeers from the crowd before being ushered off the stage by Chevy Chase. And though everyone present got very, very wet, it’s probably fair to say that few at the environmental festival got what they came for.
After an electrical storm during jam band Umphrey’s McGee’s set put the festival on hold as the crowd took shelter in nearby museums, the environmental festival was called for good. Headlining bands the Roots and Gov’t Mule did not perform and Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid (D-NV), who was scheduled to speak, was nowhere to be seen.The D.C. event was one of eight across the country aimed at raising awareness about global warming and encouraging people to call their congressperson on Earth Day with concerns about climate change. Like many activist concerts, the event was a strange marriage of musicians, policy wonks, and celebrities, matching bands like O.A.R. and Mambo Sauce with speakers like actor Edward Norton, and climate scientist James Hansen.
The weather may have put a stop to the concert, but it didn’t deter the crowd from celebrating 4/20. Attendees were openly smoking marijuana, fumes drifting across the Mall, and cheered loudly when several of the musicians made references to the holiday. As Marc Roberge, the lead singer of O.A.R., put it, “It smells like California in D.C.”
As much as I love their music, it wasn’t The New Pornographers who brought me to this show. It was the enigmatic pull of Okkervil River and their lead singer, Will Sheff, that drew me to the 9:30 Club last Monday. But twenty minutes before they was scheduled to go on stage, the club was barely a third full. I wasn’t expecting this, especially for a show sold-out long in advance, and a man standing in front of me recalled being offered over $100 for a $13 ticket when Okkervil River played at the Rock n’ Roll Hotel in September. It seemed clear that the majority of the audience was there for The New Pornographers, as the club filled up during the beginning of Okkervil River’s set.
Watching Will Sheff strutt about the stage, I couldn’t help but think of James Brown (admittedly a strange comparison for a white kid from New Hampshire). I recently saw a video of the first time that James Brown collapsed on stage and someone came out from the wings to drape a cape on him and escort him offstage. Before Brown had made it off, he threw off the cape and gave an encore to the now-hysterical audience. There were several songs during which Sheff collapsed to the ground as he played the last few chords on his guitar. A few seconds later, he would rise and rip and roar through the next song. Was it purely for show? Likely, but that doesn’t make it any less effective, just as Brown sent audiences into a tizzy with that cape routine until his very last show.
After Okkervil River’s set, The New Pornographers took the stage. I knew before that Destroyer (aka Dan Bejar) would be absent, gearing up for his own tour in support of his new album, but when The New Pornos took the stage, there was worse news; Neko Case had fallen ill and would not be performing.
So on this night, it was really The A.C. Newman Pornographers that were performing. They were far from bad, but they just seemed to be lacking something. While the absences were strongly felt, the band still managed to make the most of A.C. Newman’s birthday and played a very strong set list with songs from Challengers, their latest album, and older hits like “The Slow Descent into Alcoholism” and “Testament To Youth In Verse.”
By the end of their set, and the two subsequent encores, it was easy to see why they were the headliners. The power-pop ballads, which they do so well, even had me dancing (a sight to be seen, I promise). But as note-perfect as their hooks were, I would still prefer the messy, enthusiastic, and infectious rendition of “Westfall” that closed the Okkervil River set any day of the week.
Star-studded murder flick State of Play is being filmed in Georgetown right now. Literally right now. If you’re willing to brave April’s cruel rain, head down to Wisconsin and Prospect-ish to check it out. If you’re lucky (really lucky), you might catch a glimpse of Ben Affleck, Russell Crowe, Helen Mirren, or Jason Bateman, to name of few of the film’s stars. It’s easily possible to spend hours watching outside the police barrier and not see anyone recognizable, but you never know. When I passed by, Rachel McAdams tried to wave me over, but I was getting real wet so I just kept walking. Maybe next time, Rachel.
On the one hand, you need to lend Death Cab some cred. Even as the four-piece has transitioned from indie to major (Barsuk to Atlantic), they’ve still had the chutzpah to mess with their sound a bit, risking the longevity of their “commercial” careers for the sake of progress. Their first post-Barsuk effort (Plans) had its fair share of issues—sometimes kitschy, sometimes boring, often times forcibly “catchy”—yet it still rose to the occasion, balancing a new set of expectations imposed on the band. Case in point: a song like “Soul Meets Body” may have been overplayed in 2005, but it still sounded like nothing else on the radio at the time. Not bad, Death Cab.
Three years later and we’re handed “I Will Possess Your Heart,” the new single from the band’s forthcoming LP Narrow Stairs. Lo’ and behold, it picks up where “Different Names for the Same Thing” (my favorite track off of Plans) left off: gorgeously spacious production, a hefty bassline, McGerr’s trusty drumming, and even some dissonant guitar work. And holy smokes! The track stretches out for 8.5 minutes! Fuck you, Atlantic!
That may sound like a marathon, but it’s worth it (right?). For about a minute and a half (roughly 3:11 to 4:33), the song finds euphony—feedback engulfs the track, a vibraphone accentuates Gibbard’s sleek piano part, and some hushed “na-na-na-na-na-na-na”s creep in subtly.
Then 4:34 hits. And it all goes to shit.
Gibbard coos off perhaps his sappiest writing yet: “How I wish you could see the potential—the potential of you and me. It’s like a book elegantly bound, but in a language that you can’t read. Cuz ya, you gotta spend some time, love. You gotta spend some time with me. And I know that you’ll find love.” (Drum roll, ladies and gentlemen.) “I will possess your heart.”
At this point, there’s no saving it. We’ve already heard the music for over five minutes (Harmer is still playing that bassline) and even that organ overlay falls flat.
To quote Gibbard, the song is “elegantly bound” but seemingly in a foreign language (Who talks like that? No, honestly, who?) Sure, maybe Death Cab’s songs were always sentimental, but transparent? Hardly. Excuse me while I throw on “Company Calls Epilogue” and mourn the death of a talented lyricist.
Remember Mike Birbiglia, the sort of-funny Georgetown alum and stand-up comedian who performs every year at NSO? Well, according to the Hollywood Reporter, CBS, home of lots of sort of-funny things, has greenlighted his sitcom for the fall. Called Mike Birbiglia’s Secret Public Journal, it will be based on, yes, Mr. Big’s “secret public journal”, which is actually just the name of his blog. A quick perusal of recent entries finds it a bit lacking; on the other hand, the pitch for Seinfeld probably didn’t sound much better than “a stand-up comedian who lives with his girlfriend in Brooklyn and struggles in his efforts to be a grown up, have a relationship and do the right things.” Here’s hoping they change the name to just Birbiglia, as in: “Hey man, what’d you do last night?” “Oh, y’know, just stayed home and watched Birbiglia”.
Only time will tell whether this show will meet with success to rival the critical acclaim of fellow Georgetown alum Mitch Hurwitz’s Arrested Development, or if, also like Arrested Development, it will be a commercial failure. Or maybe even both.
Jeff Reger takes us back a few decades this week in his cover story on musicians/songwriters/Georgetown professors Walter Egan and Bill Danoff. In case you haven’t read the cover and are wondering who Egan and Danoff are, no worries: just let YouTube fill you in (and then go read the cover).
Egan’s hit 1978 single “Magnet and Steel” was produced by Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks of Fleetwood Mac and went on to sell over a million copies. In the video, Egan is rolling six deep and sporting an outfit that could only be described as transplendent (or something).
This next song, written by Danoff, thanks largely to Will Farrell and Mitchell Hurtwitz, needs little introduction. Danoff is the lead singer in the video, wearing a black tux and a pretty boss ‘do.
I feel like I’d be remiss if I didn’t post either an Arrested Development or Anchorman video along with this. (Unfortunately, videos of Michael and Maeby’s tender duet are in short supply on the interweb.) Video after the jump.
Look, I love Freaks and Geeks. Love it really hard. And I liked a lot of the early Judd Apatow movies (Ron Burgundy!), and I’m in the facebook group avowing that “The Closest Anyone’s Been to Seeing God is Watching Superbad.” So I believe in Apatow. But…Walk Hard was no good, and, alas, the trailers for the four (four!) movies he’s producing in 2008 look, well…underwhelming. When the best thing in all of them is the song choice (which, in fairness, are excellent), we have some problems.
Forgetting Sarah Marshall
Here are some things I know I like—Jason Segel, of both Freaks and Geeks and How I Met Your Mother (which is really funny and I don’t know why you don’t watch it), and Kristen Bell, of Veronica Mars. But this movie, which stars both of them, looks really, well, typical, more than anything else. I did laugh out loud at the “Kind of, now…” line, and the crab-like Aldous Snow looks pretty funny, but…there’s like four pratfalls in just a 3 minute trailer, Jonah Hill I am waaay over, and even Paul Rudd isn’t funny. Jason Segel’s can still be pretty great—see, the “what, me?” grin in the last shot—but the snarky, supertalented Kristen Bell gets relegated to playing another boring, shrieky Apatow woman, and there’s something even nudity can’t fix.
Vox Populi is the staff blog of the Georgetown Voice, Georgetown University's preeminent newsmagazine since 1969. The opinions expressed in Vox Populi are those of their authors unless specifically stated.
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