As a rule, I’ve never been especially drawn to operatic voices, but I’ve
found my appreciation for them beginning to expand lately as I’ve
become enchanted with such singers as Paul Byrom
and Susan Boyle. One of the first classically trained singers who
really won me over was Josh Groban, who wowed me with his rendition of You Raise Me Up
in late 2003 and has been on my radar ever since. In the past six
years, I’ve heard many renditions of that particular song, including an
outstanding one by Byrom, but my hands-down favorite is Groban’s version
of the song with backing by an African children’s choir during 2007’s Idol Gives Back.
Part of Josh Groban’s appeal is his humble attitude and charitable
outlook. So many of his songs are inspirational in nature, and there’s a
definite air of sincerity in his renditions. This talented young man is
almost exactly two weeks my junior, which makes him especially
relatable. Up until the past few years, there were very few musicians my
own age I admired; now, with the likes of Groban, Byrom, Clay Aiken and Ryan Kelly, they’re all coming out of the woodwork…
I’m always a sucker for a Christmas album, so when I received this as a
gift from my friend Cynthia a couple years back, I was excited to hear
how Josh would tackle some of my favorite holiday classics.
Unsurprisingly, the tone of the album is serious, with a focus on songs
of faith and celebrations of home and family. Those who love his
powerful voice or well-crafted Christmas albums in general should be
well pleased.
Silent Night - Josh sings the first and
third verses beautifully, but the track is at its most remarkable with
the second verse, when the MacDalen College Choir takes the melody and
Josh harmonizes.
Little Drummer Boy - Guitarist Andy
McKee does most of the percussion work on this song, especially through
the first verse. Halfway through, bagpipes join in, reminding me of the
military tattoo I attended when I visited Edinburgh several years ago.
Pristine background vocals in this midsection add to the splendor.
I’ll Be Home for Christmas
- This track has gotten a lot of airplay on the radio, and it’s
probably the most poignant version of the song I’ve heard. Not only does
Josh sing it beautifully, with just the right touch of wistfulness, but
there are also several recorded messages from soldiers who are unable
to spend Christmas with their families. This song was written during
World War II, and this timely rendition really drives home the longing
of families separated by war.
Ave Maria - Given Josh’s
operatic leanings, this is a natural choice to include on the album, and
he certainly does it justice, once again aided by the MacDalen College
Choir, who provide a delicate backdrop to his powerful vocals.
Angels We Have Heard on High - Another acoustic guitar-driven track, this one really takes off when Brian McKnight joins him for a soulful duet.
Thankful - This lovely original written especially for this album by Carol Bayer Sager and David Foster, who produced Noel,
expresses both the desire and the need to be thankful, as well as the
drive to respond to one‘s blessings by doing something proactive for
others. Like John Bucchino’s Grateful,
it’s an ideal Thanksgiving anthem, but it applies wonderfully to
Christmas. “It's up to us to be the change / And even though we all can
still do more / There's so much to be thankful for.”
The Christmas Song
- A pretty basic version of this song, with strings in prominence and
Josh sticking close to the melody except in the last verse, when he
branches out a bit.
What Child Is This? - I like Lucia
Micarelli’s violin work on this track, and Dean Parks provides some nice
guitar accompaniment. It’s a shame that a commonly sung verse is
skipped, and I’m not sure how I feel about the echoey effects in the
last verse, but on the whole it’s a nice rendition.
The First Noel - I’ve yet to find a version of this song that I like better than Clay Aiken’s on American Idol: The Great Holiday Classics,
but Josh’s duet with Faith Hill is quite nice, with an interestingly
jazzy feel to it toward the end. The jubilant choir also adds a nice
touch.
Petit Papa Noel - This song is a kick for me
because we used to sing the chorus in my middle school French classes,
and I’d never heard it anywhere else. It’s rather funny to hear Josh
singing it with such solemn sincerity, since I always thought of it as
kind of a silly song, the French equivalent of Jolly Old St. Nicholas.
There’s a disconnect between the subject matter and the ostentatious
arrangement. But it makes me smile. And want to dust off my old French
dictionary.
It Came Upon a Midnight Clear - Josh
actually plays the piano on this one, which is neat, since I was unaware
he played an instrument. It reminds me of Art Garfunkel playing the
piano on Simon and Garfunkel’s Silent Night, a little-known contribution. I also like the addition of the choir toward the end.
Panis Angelicus
- The second Latin song on the album. It’s hard to say whether I prefer
his powerhouse rendition or the delicate version by Chloe Agnew on Celtic Woman - A Christmas Celebration, but it’s very suited to his voice.
O Come All Ye Faithful
- The organ and the presence of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir on this
track make it sound very much like a recording of a candelit Christmas
Eve service - albeit at a much bigger church than the one I attend. A
reverent way to end the album.
If I have one complaint about Noel,
it’s with the liner notes, which are printed in all caps in an
extremely tiny font. On top of that, there’s insufficient contrast
between the background color and the text color, particularly during
Josh’s page-long note at the back. It’s gold on burgundy, which looks
majestic but is nearly impossible to read. But if my eyes are a little
unhappy with this CD, my ears certainly aren’t. Josh Groban’s Noel is everything a Christmas album should be.
Showing posts with label Josh Groban. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Josh Groban. Show all posts
Monday, November 9, 2009
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Hanks Brings the Magic in The Polar Express, But It's Not Enough
It seems impossible to me that with all of the Christmas books I've
read, I haven't ever cracked open the cover of one of the all-time
classics, The Polar Express, not even when the arrival of the
movie in 2004 made Chris Van Allsburg's acclaimed picture book one of
the hottest sellers of the winter in the bookstore where I worked. I was
all pumped up to read the book and see the movie, and somehow I did
neither. But last week, I finally caught the movie. Now I feel the need
to read the book even more than before, simply because I didn't quite
get the film. Maybe it can explain a few things...
Like the name of the protagonist. Was this poor kid originally without a name, or was that a strange change made for the purpose of the movie? I find it very distracting not to know the name of the main character, or to be clear on just how he was selected to make this journey. Initially, I thought that this ride was especially for children who find themselves in serious doubt as to Santa's existence, but that doesn't seem to be the case with the young girl our hero befriends on the ride, nor with the thoroughly irritating know-it-all who thinks he has all the answers about the mysteries of the North Pole. The key to their invitation seems to be in the golden train tickets, which spell out a different word for each child at the end of their trip, giving them brief, compelling advice. But why was such a small selection of children chosen? And is every ride on the Polar Express this hazardous?
One of the decorations that always goes out this time of year is a little toy train we bought from Burger King when Anastasia hit theaters. I recalled that train as I watched the film, thinking of its fiery destruction in one of the movie's many intense scenes. The Polar Express takes its passengers on a voyage that is just as harrowing, with the dangers unrelenting. The protagonist and his new friends deal with one life-threatening obstacle after another.
Just one gratuitously narrow scrape involves the boy running outside after his new female friend to give her the ticket she forgot, resulting in him losing the ticket and nearly tumbling off the train. I like this sequence, though, if only because the flight of the wind-whipped ticket is like Forrest Gump's feather sequence on steroids. It gets snapped at by wolves, regurgitated by eagles, rolled into a giant snowball. It takes a swift, high-octane journey fraught with peril, somehow landing intact almost right where the girl left it - only for the boy to go trotting off after her once more, nearly losing the ticket again.
I doubt it's an accident that the scene reminds me so strongly of Forrest Gump. The movies share a director (Robert Zemeckis), a composer (Alan Silvestri) and a star (Tom Hanks). It's a regular Forrest reunion. But the result of their collaborative efforts is not quite so flawless this time. In an attempt to duplicate the mystical quality of Van Allsburg's illustrations for the big screen, Zemeckis relied on motion capture technology, which was used to bring Gollum to such vibrant life in Lord of the Rings. Each of the characters has its roots in the performance of an actor, while another actor usually provided the voice. The result is visually arresting, but I wouldn't go so far to say it's pleasing. "Spooky" would be a more accurate adjective.
Hanks practically carries the movie by himself, having acted for six different characters and voiced five. The most prominent and iconic of these, and my favorite character, is the conductor of the train, a man with a bristly mustache, a gruff accent, a twinkle in his eye and a remarkable resemblance to Hanks. He comes across as stern, intimidating... almost sadistic at times. But all of it is done with a wink, and evidently this conductor just likes to make the kids in his charge sweat a little. When it comes down to it, he's on their side. The conductor is a living, breathing, totally convincing character, and his train is a glorious piece of machinery. Nona Gaye puts in a touching performance as the protagonist's magnanimous new friend, and the late Michael Jeter, playing bumbling engineers Smokey and Steamer, has the opportunity to let his comedic gifts shine in this capper to a too-short career. Most of the other characters, however, look off-kilter. It's hard to say just how, but they're pale, ghostly figures, and for all the expense and effort that went into the project, most of them don't look any more realistic than the humans in Toy Story.
After all the hype surrounding the movie, I expected pure magic. What I ended up with was two hours spent mostly grimacing at the television, waiting to be drawn into the enchantment. I tip my hat to Hanks and those responsible for animating the conductor; the film is worth watching just for him, and for the shivery end-credits ballad penned by Silvestri and Glen Ballard and sung by the enormously talented Josh Groban. On the whole, though, The Polar Express never quite seems to get on track.
Like the name of the protagonist. Was this poor kid originally without a name, or was that a strange change made for the purpose of the movie? I find it very distracting not to know the name of the main character, or to be clear on just how he was selected to make this journey. Initially, I thought that this ride was especially for children who find themselves in serious doubt as to Santa's existence, but that doesn't seem to be the case with the young girl our hero befriends on the ride, nor with the thoroughly irritating know-it-all who thinks he has all the answers about the mysteries of the North Pole. The key to their invitation seems to be in the golden train tickets, which spell out a different word for each child at the end of their trip, giving them brief, compelling advice. But why was such a small selection of children chosen? And is every ride on the Polar Express this hazardous?
One of the decorations that always goes out this time of year is a little toy train we bought from Burger King when Anastasia hit theaters. I recalled that train as I watched the film, thinking of its fiery destruction in one of the movie's many intense scenes. The Polar Express takes its passengers on a voyage that is just as harrowing, with the dangers unrelenting. The protagonist and his new friends deal with one life-threatening obstacle after another.
Just one gratuitously narrow scrape involves the boy running outside after his new female friend to give her the ticket she forgot, resulting in him losing the ticket and nearly tumbling off the train. I like this sequence, though, if only because the flight of the wind-whipped ticket is like Forrest Gump's feather sequence on steroids. It gets snapped at by wolves, regurgitated by eagles, rolled into a giant snowball. It takes a swift, high-octane journey fraught with peril, somehow landing intact almost right where the girl left it - only for the boy to go trotting off after her once more, nearly losing the ticket again.
I doubt it's an accident that the scene reminds me so strongly of Forrest Gump. The movies share a director (Robert Zemeckis), a composer (Alan Silvestri) and a star (Tom Hanks). It's a regular Forrest reunion. But the result of their collaborative efforts is not quite so flawless this time. In an attempt to duplicate the mystical quality of Van Allsburg's illustrations for the big screen, Zemeckis relied on motion capture technology, which was used to bring Gollum to such vibrant life in Lord of the Rings. Each of the characters has its roots in the performance of an actor, while another actor usually provided the voice. The result is visually arresting, but I wouldn't go so far to say it's pleasing. "Spooky" would be a more accurate adjective.
Hanks practically carries the movie by himself, having acted for six different characters and voiced five. The most prominent and iconic of these, and my favorite character, is the conductor of the train, a man with a bristly mustache, a gruff accent, a twinkle in his eye and a remarkable resemblance to Hanks. He comes across as stern, intimidating... almost sadistic at times. But all of it is done with a wink, and evidently this conductor just likes to make the kids in his charge sweat a little. When it comes down to it, he's on their side. The conductor is a living, breathing, totally convincing character, and his train is a glorious piece of machinery. Nona Gaye puts in a touching performance as the protagonist's magnanimous new friend, and the late Michael Jeter, playing bumbling engineers Smokey and Steamer, has the opportunity to let his comedic gifts shine in this capper to a too-short career. Most of the other characters, however, look off-kilter. It's hard to say just how, but they're pale, ghostly figures, and for all the expense and effort that went into the project, most of them don't look any more realistic than the humans in Toy Story.
After all the hype surrounding the movie, I expected pure magic. What I ended up with was two hours spent mostly grimacing at the television, waiting to be drawn into the enchantment. I tip my hat to Hanks and those responsible for animating the conductor; the film is worth watching just for him, and for the shivery end-credits ballad penned by Silvestri and Glen Ballard and sung by the enormously talented Josh Groban. On the whole, though, The Polar Express never quite seems to get on track.
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