OMG. A. Ro. is for real. Check out his “endless” article on Philip Glass in this week’s New Yorker. (We know it’s been out for a few day’s now.)
He’s pretty fair in his assessment of Glass’ repetitatious (we just made up that word) music, which was awesome in The Hours, not so awesome in Notes on a Scandal, is great in those Amex commericials (we think that’s him), and is so often boring live.
But Ross gives this keen observation about the opening seconds of experiencing a new Philip Glass offering:
To encounter a new Glass work these days is to pass through a familiar sequence of emotions. More often than not, you start with a disappointed sense of déjà vu: a rapid onset of churning arpeggios and chugging minor-key progressions dashes any hope that the composer may have struck off in a startling new direction.
OMG. Alex, when are you going to spend some time with C.C.? You’re like a super genius and we could totally be best friends. And maybe more. Who knows. We’re open to getting to know you is all we’re saying. Maybe it could start as simple as a coffee in a public place some Saturday afternoon. Then, you know, if the chemistry is there and we feel like taking things to the next level, we can negotiate that. You should know, however, that we sleep on the right side of the bed and we’re allergic to cats. Just an FYI.
