JAM: October/November 2001 Issue: From the Spit Valve

Mike Metheny

Squeak! ...In the Name of Love
(Or: Here's Sneering at You, Kid)

"Show me someone who thinks that track is funny, and I'll show you someone with a rap sheet." -- (Name withheld by request)

As the fallout from track #10 on Close Enough for Love continues -- from the Los Angeles Times: "It's hard to know... what he was thinking with the final track, a bizarre rendition of 'The Greatest Love of All' in which Metheny plays the saccharine theme on a squeaky clarinet. If satire was the target, he is way off the mark" -- I've found myself in several spirited debates about what constitutes "humor" these days.

Not that the track in question is a total spoof. It was actually rendered with as much sincerity and effort as possible on an instrument I only vaguely remembered how to play from my college days. (All music ed majors at MU were required to learn the other axes; or at least that was the case during the Nixon administration.)

One interesting theory I've heard about why so many are scratching their heads (and holding their ears) is that we live in an age where pie-in-the-face humor has been replaced by the "sneering irony" of people like Dennis Miller. Who I actually like, by the way, but who probably wouldn't care much for my clarinet playing. No doubt, "The Greatest Love of All" is less Dennis Miller, and more Soupy Sales.

There is also the theory that we now live in a time when the line between satire and reality has become so blurred that what was once overt parody can now be mistaken for the real thing. Remember the movie "Network"? Show me someone who is unaware of how close today's "info-tainment" industry has come to that sobering harbinger, and I'll show you a Barbie doll turned news reader, or someone born after 1976, or both.

Another angle I've rarely mentioned to anyone who has enjoyed/endured/loathed the infamous ode is how such mid-life risk-taking could have something to do with being a first-born. If you are the oldest of the siblings in your family, you probably have some memory of "playing by the rules," kissing up to authority, "coloring inside the box." and being an approval-seeking people-pleaser. Just once I wanted to know how it felt to color outside that box. And you know what? It feels pretty darn good out there.

But yes, the notorious "saccharine theme" has caused some deafening silences, old friends have averted eye contact and changed the subject, and "I really like your new CD... well, most of it," has become a near-cliché. All of which made the arrival of this email especially welcome.

"...'The Greatest Love of All' is genius. I had to sing that song with my class at 6th grade graduation, and I think your version finally put some closure on that horrific experience." (Name -- and prisoner ID -- also withheld by request.)

So, what exactly is "funny"? And why is one person's reason to guffaw cause for another to glare?

I have no idea. It's all much too subjective.

But I do know that the hardest I ever laughed in a movie theater was during the "campfire sequence" in Mel Brooks' film "Blazing Saddles." Even 27 years later it still takes me completely down. Here's hoping Brooks' current success on Broadway with "The Producers" (also an early film) will inspire a similar revival of the 1974 classic.

Because, you can't beat a good campfire chorus, cream pie to the kisser, or heartfelt squeak on the clarinet d'amore -- all done with a healthy sneer, of course.

And, if you don't think that's very funny, well then...

I guess you'll just have to add it to my rap sheet

RETURN TO OCTOBER/NOVEMBER 2001 MAIN INDEX

© Kansas City Jazz Ambassadors 1996-2001. All rights reserved.






	Search our site:		Mike Metheny Squeak! ...In the Name of Love (Or: Here's Sneering at You, Kid) "Show me someone who thinks that track is funny, and I'll show you someone with a rap sheet." -- (Name withheld by request) As the fallout from track #10 on Close Enough for Love continues -- from the Los Angeles Times: "It's hard to know... what he was thinking with the final track, a bizarre rendition of 'The Greatest Love of All' in which Metheny plays the saccharine theme on a squeaky clarinet. If satire was the target, he is way off the mark" -- I've found myself in several spirited debates about what constitutes "humor" these days. Not that the track in question is a total spoof. It was actually rendered with as much sincerity and effort as possible on an instrument I only vaguely remembered how to play from my college days. (All music ed majors at MU were required to learn the other axes; or at least that was the case during the Nixon administration.) One interesting theory I've heard about why so many are scratching their heads (and holding their ears) is that we live in an age where pie-in-the-face humor has been replaced by the "sneering irony" of people like Dennis Miller. Who I actually like, by the way, but who probably wouldn't care much for my clarinet playing. No doubt, "The Greatest Love of All" is less Dennis Miller, and more Soupy Sales. There is also the theory that we now live in a time when the line between satire and reality has become so blurred that what was once overt parody can now be mistaken for the real thing. Remember the movie "Network"? Show me someone who is unaware of how close today's "info-tainment" industry has come to that sobering harbinger, and I'll show you a Barbie doll turned news reader, or someone born after 1976, or both. Another angle I've rarely mentioned to anyone who has enjoyed/endured/loathed the infamous ode is how such mid-life risk-taking could have something to do with being a first-born. If you are the oldest of the siblings in your family, you probably have some memory of "playing by the rules," kissing up to authority, "coloring inside the box." and being an approval-seeking people-pleaser. Just once I wanted to know how it felt to color outside that box. And you know what? It feels pretty darn good out there. But yes, the notorious "saccharine theme" has caused some deafening silences, old friends have averted eye contact and changed the subject, and "I really like your new CD... well, most of it," has become a near-cliché. All of which made the arrival of this email especially welcome. "...'The Greatest Love of All' is genius. I had to sing that song with my class at 6th grade graduation, and I think your version finally put some closure on that horrific experience." (Name -- and prisoner ID -- also withheld by request.) So, what exactly is "funny"? And why is one person's reason to guffaw cause for another to glare? I have no idea. It's all much too subjective. But I do know that the hardest I ever laughed in a movie theater was during the "campfire sequence" in Mel Brooks' film "Blazing Saddles." Even 27 years later it still takes me completely down. Here's hoping Brooks' current success on Broadway with "The Producers" (also an early film) will inspire a similar revival of the 1974 classic. Because, you can't beat a good campfire chorus, cream pie to the kisser, or heartfelt squeak on the clarinet d'amore -- all done with a healthy sneer, of course. And, if you don't think that's very funny, well then... I guess you'll just have to add it to my rap sheet RETURN TO OCTOBER/NOVEMBER 2001 MAIN INDEX © Kansas City Jazz Ambassadors 1996-2001. All rights reserved.