Someone once told me they thought watching Meryl Streep act was like watching a performing circus animal. It was all about stunts and training, and had nothing to do with what came before or after in the overall performance. They said it was enjoyable enough, but they had no emotional investment in the work, any more than they would in seeing a bear balancing on a beach ball. They fully admitted that Streep is very, very good at what she does, but they just didn’t care for her work.
Me, I respect Streep, but I totally identify with the sentiment. And as my example, I point to Prince (aka, the Artist Formerly Known As The Artist Formerly Known As Prince).
Now, I like a few of his songs (mostly off the “Purple Rain” album), but the vast majority of his repertoire just does nothing for me. I can intellectually grasp the wide range and huge volume of material he has produced, and when I think about it, I admit that yes, he’s probably pretty close to a genius (in a perverse man-child sort of way). But even acknowledging the fact of his major talent, I still don’t like most of the music all that much.
I could probably say the same thing about the visual artist Roy Lichtenstein, or the writer Stanislaw Lem – people I will freely admit are extremely talented and who produce worthwhile work in the context of the discipline, but who I just don’t find any enjoyment in.
Thankyouthankyouthankyou! I feel like the kid in “The Emporor’s New Clothes” when I hear people going on and on about those three! Yes, I can see their obvious talent at what they do. No, talent does not make something interesting or entertaining.
Igor Stravinsky. Obviously talented but nearly unlistenable.
Most “smooth jazz” musicians. Technically ept but viscerally empty.
Big fucking genius of modern jazz. Listen to those harmonics! Listen to those sheets of sound! More clowns who know the names of four or five jazz artists drop the word “Coltrane” more than any other, with the possible exception of “Miles Davis.”
To me he sounds like a big ol’ duck. It’s HARD to play a tenor saxophone with no soul whatsoever, but by golly he did. I guess he figured “tone” was for the squares.
Wrote a BEAUTIFUL ballad, “Naima,” and all I can think about when I listen to it is “Damn, I wish Ben Webster had recorded this!”
Dave Matthews. Yech.
Robert Kinkaide, I actually have seen some of his work before the whole painting with light shit. It was actually good stuff. a damn shame
I have to vote on Phish, Dave Matthews, Pink Floyd, Prince…and the Grateful Dead. I hate them all.
I really wish that I could like Jihmi Hendrix (or remember how to spell his name), because he is unbelieveably good, but never in my life have I wanted to sit down and listen to a Henrix album.
I would cast my vote for the guitar pyrotechnical wunderkind of the Joe Satriani, Steve Vai, Al Dimeola stripe. Rapid fire perfectly placed notes which leave me feeling that cardboard is somehow more exciting.
Okay, fifteen years in the league, four Super Bowls, yadda yadda yadda.
I’ll admit he is one of the top 5-10 quarterbacks of all time, and deserves to be in the Hall of Fame.
But, dang it, the boy is dumb as half a rock, had a great system and talent around him to make him look good and (most importantly) beat my Bengals twice in the Super Bowl.
Most people will say it is my fault for being a (now recovering) Bengals fan, but I still hate the punk.
AMEN!!! My words precisely. I do adore fast guitar work, but only from a guitarist that has a distinctive style.
Example: John Petrucci (of Dream Theater fame) is probably a lot faster than David Gilmore (I’m not even explaining HIM, you ought to know), but Gilmore is MUCH more distinctive in his way of playing. I can spot a Gilmore riff at 200 yards, downwind. Petrucci, although not as generic as Vai or Malmsteen, is less distinct. I still like him, and have seen him play live at several occasions. But he doesn’t blow me away on an emotional level.
Replace Gilmore with Lifeson, Knopfler, Oliva (may he rest in peace), or Clapton, and the argument still stands.
Drummers are another thing altogether. But let’s not go there.
Robert DeNiro and Al Pacino. Oh, and you can throw in Martin Scorcese (and no, I don’t know how to spell his name). The only thing their movies are good for is insomnia.
Kurt Cobain too. His musical genius was obviously beyond me.
Bob Dylan. My best friend loves him and goes on about his genius. I would prefer listening to a cat being killed, and in fact, may not even be able to distinguish between the two.
Barbara Streisand has a beautiful crystal-clear voice, excellent technical control, etc. etc. So why does she suck? Something about her style is just annoying as all hell. She puts things into the music - nothing wrong with that in itself - but she puts all the wrong things in at the wrong times! It breaks up the emotion inherent in the melody. She also sings “pap music” as I like to call it. At any rate, blecch.
I can’t stand Bette Midler. I know she must be talented, but I hate her voice, her delivery, and especially her movies. Yeech. OTOH, her goodbye tribute to Johnny Carson was a lovely moment–I will give her that much.
Not only can you say it, you can tattoo it on my forehead.
I never got the Marx Brothers at all.
And I have to admit that the work of Stanley Kubrick fails to impress me. He is a master of images, as talented a moviemaker as there ever was, and yet everything he made after “Dr. Strangelove” and “Fail Safe” strikes me as being pointless and flawed. Nothing moved me the way movies should.