Tuesday 29 January 2002

Much number-crunching to be done today on the recording budget for The Gentle Shepherd.  Record companies don't like shelling out for musicians anymore, and understandably so given the sad state of CD sales at the moment.  So I'm trying to drive down the minimum figure we need to raise in order to get the dates in everyone's diaries without ripping anyone off, or committing ourselves to money we haven't got.  It was interesting to read in the newspapers yesterday of George Michael's new one-single deal, where he decides whether to pick up the album option depending on how well the company promotes the single.  No more fat advances from Sony for him.  Even at our paltry level, things are going in the same direction.

Last night I watched the movie of the late Dr. Seuss's The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T with my son.  I'm still reeling.  Made nearly 50 years ago, and ten times more weird and screwed-up than anything David Lynch or Terry Gilliam will ever aspire to (partly because an hour was cut out of the film and the narrative barely hangs together).  And it's about a power-crazed piano teacher wanting to set up a music institute.  Mr Geisel himself (Dr. Seuss) supervised the sets, the screen-play and the lyrics, and it's just astonishing in its sheer nerve. The musical sequence set in the non-pianists' dungeon is even more surreal than the flying pink elephants in Dumbo, but it's shot as live action rather than animation.  The dancing accordions reminded me of André Popp, another 1950s original who now sounds like he took psychedelics one decade too early.  Chances are he didn't of course: some people are just weird enough without chemical assistance.  And doesn't that gladden the heart?