Fine Distinctions

I reviewed the film “Hannah Montana & Miley Cyrus: Best of Both Worlds Concert” for the Yale Daily News. The edited-for-word-count version ran here. My extended version is below.

Perhaps the most telling scene in “Hannah Montana & Miley Cyrus: Best of Both Worlds Concert” is the Y78-sponsored High Heel Derby. A mob of tweenaged Hannah Montana fans’ fathers, duct-taped into high-heeled shoes, race across a parking lot to win tickets to the show, and backstage passes to boot.
Certainly, at a steeper ticket price and a brisk 71 minutes, the film is an inevitable, not to mention highly profitable, product of the Disney machine. But this record of the concert sensation of 2007 (second, perhaps, to Led Zeppelin’s UK show) serves as an exciting consolation prize for Hannah Montana fans and a godsend for their parents. Hannah Montana concert tickets were so highly coveted in the secondary market (the fifty-odd dollar tickets for each venue sold out the instant they went on sale) that the ticket brokers who most highly profited are now under investigation by several Attorneys General. (Not to mention that one mother coaxed her daughter into claiming that her father had gone to Iraq and died in the armed services in order to win an essay contest for tickets.) So for the thousands, if not millions, of Hannah Montana fans who couldn’t attend these shows, this show is as close as they’ll get—and the “Real-D” performances bring these fans that much closer.
The film itself is fairly formulaic, hitting concert film clichés such as the behind-the-scenes rehearsal process, the walking-down-a-hallway-to-the-stage setpiece famously lampooned in “This Is Spinal Tap,” and the “drama” of an onstage error, along the way, but briefly enough that they don’t become irritating. Nevertheless, many details can be confusing for those not familiar with the Hannah Montanaverse, so briefly, a beginners’ guide: Hannah Montana is the rockstar alter ego of Miley Stewart, the main character of the Disney Channel show Hannah Montana. Miley Cyrus, the real-life daughter of Billy Ray “Achy Breaky Heart” Cyrus, plays the dual character and her father plays her character’s father. The second Hannah Montana “soundtrack” album featured songs performed by the character on the first disc and the real-life Miley Cyrus’s solo album on the second disc. The “Best of Both Worlds” tour is named after the TV show’s theme song, but the two worlds in the song are those of Hannah Montana and Miley Stewart the character, whereas the concert highlights Hannah Montana and Miley Cyrus the performer. Lost yet?
The first half of the film features Cyrus as Hannah Montana. Despite the time, money, and attention paid to the multifaceted production, the in-character concert footage is merely workmanlike. Interspersed with interviews of (frequently costumed) fans singing, praising, and screaming at the top of their lungs lungs (“It’s like standing behind a jet,” one technician admits), the try-your-best and don’t-be-afraid-to-make-mistakes songs fail to inspire, no matter what corresponding clips from the Disney show play on the screens behind them.
Briefly, in fact, it seems that the Jonas Brothers, the cute-boy supporting act, will upstage Cyrus during their two-song interlude. “This is for all the ladies in the house tonight!” one of them coyly shouts, before they burst into “When You Look Me in the Eyes,” mugging expertly for the camera and for the “ladies,” while Hannah Montana “transforms” back into Miley Cyrus. In reality the young star is probably taking a much-needed rest between sets as the Brothers burn through two poppy Simple Plan-minus-any-crudeness love songs.
When Cyrus returns as “herself,” however, she seems uncannily re-invigorated. The freedom she feels in her own skin, rather than that of a Disney property, is clear, from the dancing (which, while remaining fairly unsuggestive, actually allows for hip motion) to the costuming, set design, and lyrics. It helps that the Miley Cyrus songs are, on the whole, better than the Hannah Montana ones (especially “See You Again”). But Cyrus clearly cares more about these songs, and feels less pressure from Disney in their execution.
The film is largely satisfying thanks to Cyrus’s tireless dedication to all aspects of her performance. Even as Hannah Montana, a smile glued to her face, she savvily calls out between songs, “I’ve got some friends here, so hey guys, wherever you are,” allowing for the possibility that any of the audience members could be those friends. The film shows the ever-focused Cyrus lip-syncing to others’ lyrics and to drumbeats between her lines. And even as all the authenticity buttons are pressed for “I Miss You,” a song Cyrus wrote about her grandfather when he died—clutching a capo-ed acoustic guitar, she perches on a stool in a lone spotlight for the concert performance, while images of her grandfather play on the screens behind her—she explains, in a cutaway, her intentional lyrical ambiguity in the song, so that it could also be applied to a parental or romantic relationship.
That savviness leads into the film’s bizarre climax. Cyrus elides herself with her characters in order to perform “The Best of Both Worlds,” the show’s theme song and the biggest Hannah Montana hit, but which can never be performed in character because its lyrics expose the secret identity on which the show’s plot is built. Seemingly as Miley Stewart, Cyrus sings to and dances with a video-screen Hannah Montana until the last of the 3D confetti and pyrotechnics fire off and she announces to the audience, “See y’all soon.”
At twenty cents a minute “Hannah Montana & Miley Cyrus: Best of Both Worlds Concert” is a pricey ticket, except in comparison to the exorbitant amounts paid to see the actual concert. But for those with any desire to see the film it can’t possibly disappoint. Even at the relatively late screening I caught, for which only six others shared the theater, two of them still danced in the aisles. It’s a short and sweet megaconcert that doesn’t cater to boomer nostalgia. Who can argue with that?

If you are coming here via my Idolator ballot, rest assured that I am probably writing comments right now.

I originally wrote most of this elsewhere on the internet. Then I realized it would be a good way to start this back up. So, alphabetically by artist:
Animal Collective - Strawberry Jam. This isn’t out till September, so I probably shouldn’t include it, but it’s pretty much all I’ve been listening to lately. I am thrilled at largely guitar-free sound Animal Collective have been pursuing. This whole record sounds fantastically fuzzy and poppy and raucous. I found myself surprised at how accessible it was, to be honest, although maybe that’s just me; some people  were turned off by “Peacebone” (though only initially) whereas I was immediately a fan. I guess I just love the sonic texture of the album (and I know that sounds stupid, but how else do you sum up all the little things like the chirping sounds in “Chores”?).

Avey Tare and Kria Brekkan - Pullhair Rubeye. I often feel like the only person in the world who likes the record the way it was released (except tinymixtapes, whose reviewer had some “this is some neo-Dada shit right here” rationalization, and anyway even s/he liked the songs better re-reversed). Maybe it’s because I myself recently dove gleefully into David Lynch’s corpus (for those who don’t know, Avey Tare claimed to have thought to reverse the album after seeing Inland Empire in December) or maybe I just think that the reversal (which I won’t deny is totally a gimmick) provides the needed dynamism to what I find an otherwise frankly boring record. To me the re-reversed version just sounds like a completely uninteresting copy of Sung Tongs. Then again I never really got into any of the records (which many people love) that sound like the re-reversed version, except Colleen’s record from 2005, if that counts.

Dan Deacon - Spiderman of the Rings. I want to write this off as hipster bullshit but it’s so fucking fun. For the most part I can’t stand humorous music but the joke of “Wooody Wooodpecker” is hilarious and somehow still sounds awesome (though few for whom I’ve played the track agree). What little I know about the Wham City scene comes via Jess Harvell, an admitted devotee, so I still have itching concerns, e.g. whether the blatant un-self-consciousness is a reaction to hipsterism or another upper-class form of it (not to drag Bourdieu into this or anything). But the truth is, no matter how genuine these folks are, I can’t get enough of Dan Deacon’s kid-kitschy Adderall-pop. I’m drawn to music that’s fuzzy and percussive, and this is no exception.

I missed probably my best opportunity to see him live a few weekends ago at McCarren Park Pool, because a goofy drunk outdoor picnic with dodgeball and an inflatable slip ‘n’ slide is probably the only venue in New York where the attendees would feel comfortable being as goofy and delighted as Dan Deacon’s music is (and since I understand his shows are basically just him and a sampler, they probably vary based on how into it the audiences are. Basically if your local crowd is actually going to dance then go see him).

LCD Soundsystem - Sound of Silver. Here’s another dance record, albeit of a completely different type. So much about this record reminds me of a certain brand of post-punk, from the sound–”All My Friends” in particular sounds very early New Order to me, and the title track sounds like a Crushed by the Wheels of Industry b-side at times–to the class awareness (not that I necessarily agree with his I-was-here-first-and-it-was-cooler-then-too opinions on New York gentrification, but even what little he says scores points with me for acknowledging the issue in the first place, e.g. “New York’s the greatest if you can get someone to pay the rent”) to that very sense of localism (which I thought was next to impossible in New York, which aside from being such a conglomerate city in the first place, suffers from the false localism of thousands of bands [strike]formed either before or soon after the post-undergrad band members moved to[/strike] hailing from Brooklyn). AND you can dance to it, AND you can rock out to it, AND “New York I Love You, But You’re Bringing Me Down” succeeds (in my opinion at least) in avoiding cornball by choosing a form that fits the sentiment while simultaneously mocking it, and somehow still works at the end of the record (although that song’s instrumental coda is a bit unnecessary).

Lil Wayne - Da Drought 3. Lil Wayne combines lyrics and delivery more charismatically than any rapper in a minute. His style is, to put it simply, unique. He embodies basically the opposite of the Too $hort freestyle philosophy–he’s ridiculously prolific, and he isn’t really making money from any of the stuff he’s putting out on the internet. He’s got such ridiculous control of his lexicon and some really great (and not just clever-for-its-own-sake) wordplay. Plus he can say something like “Damn right I kissed my Daddy” without blinking, whereas a Cam’ron would have to say “(no homo)” about a hundred times. In short he’s pretty sick, and when you jack a bunch of popular beats that are for the most part pretty good to great, and lay those kinds of tracks over them, of course it’s going to be one of the best records of the half-year.

Meanwhile he’s becoming fairly popular, and not just among rap nerds; as one hip-hop blogger (I forget which. Maybe Tom Breihan?) pointed out, “Stuntin’ Like My Daddy” won a BET Viewer’s Choice Award a couple weeks ago. I hope Tha Carter 3 (whenever it comes out) outsells T.I. vs. T.I.P. (though I doubt it will).

No Age - Weirdo Rippers. A friend recommended No Age to me before I’d seen the band covered anywhere, although he mentioned that Pitchfork were already all over it (they always are; thanks to Amy Phillips for that). They seem like obnoxious LA hipsters who pal around with everyone while simultaneously acting like they don’t give a shit if no one further away than the Inland Empire ever hears them. (For example: their New York shows were basically TBA until the last minute; as a result I didn’t end up seeing them.) I’m willing to forgive them that though because they play this perfect fuzzy punk that almost hides the skill with which they’ve made the tracks noisy. They sound like what I always wanted Space Needle to sound like. Their earlier singles are a little inchoate but Weirdo Rippers pulls it together. They’re not the only band with this sort of sound, but they do it best in my opinion. (Runner-up: the Very Knees out of Cleveland). This is probably my second favorite record of the year so far, after Strawberry Jam.

St. Vincent - Marry Me. I don’t quite know what it is about this record that I find irresistable. Maybe it’s the particular combination of elements: St. Vincent is a female artist with some classical training and guitar chops, who, though she tends toward the melodramatic, often knows how far is too far in that direction, sounds somewhat like Kate Bush, and writes really great dynamic songs. Beyond that I can only say that she has that something else which makes this record not just good but one of my favorites this year. Kind of a cop-out, I know. I think maybe seeing her live brought it all together, with the two mics and the stomp pad (as seen here).

A Sunny Day in Glasgow - Scribble Mural Comic Journal. I don’t know how many of you have that older friend/sometime musical mentor figure in your life, with whom, unlike with most people, you have a trade deficit when it comes to music (historically if not currently). When I first fell for A Sunny Day in Glasgow I passed on the recommendation to mine with trepidation, and was rather surprised at how well it was taken. Maybe this is because everything that makes the band wonderful is fairly unremarkable. Ben Daniels, who looks kind of like Michael Stipe did twenty-odd years ago, and his guitar (and a whole bunch of pedals) started recording these dreamy, messy pop songs, and then his sisters Robin and Lauren join the band and provide insight and vocals, and the whole dreamy mess just gets dreamier and messier. The sounds aren’t layered so much as mashed together. And yet the record sounds not fantastic and not at all derivative of any of the obvious influences.

Two Bands and a Legend (Cato Salsa Experience and The Thing with Joe McPhee) - Two Bands and a Legend. Garage proto-rock meets free jazz. Simple as that. Sounds fantastic, and a great concept in my opinion. It’s sort of odd the way a track will start free-jazzy, then coalesce into, say, “Louie Louie,” or PJ Harvey’s “Who the Fuck,” then split apart at the seams again. If my description sounds at all interesting to you, then get this immediately and play it LOUDLY.

My tenth album rotates depending on the day and my mood among Amerie’s Because I Love It and Paramore’s Riot! (though Panda Bear has been getting a lot of rotation as well, and the Kevin Drew album could certainly come from behind–not to mention new contender UGK).

So yeah this needs some editing. And also some explanation as to why I don’t love M.I.A.’s Kala. So feel free to comment, but make sure you quote me so I don’t up and change it on you.