Glass Shallot by Adam Baer | Adambaer.com

Cleveland Show Calling: The Kanye West Table Read

Recently, GQ posted a little one-question Q&A that I conducted with the co-creators of Fox's new "The Cleveland Show," premiering September 27. Below, is a piece about attending a table-read at the show's offices last spring, followed by a longer transcript of our conversation. 

Grab a folding chair in the front row; avoid clumsy boom-mic gaffers; sit close to the guest stars, and for the love of Hollywood, caffeinate. These are just some rules you should follow if you’re among the animators, production staff, agents, TV execs, writers, and miscellaneous VIPs invited to a table-read for The Cleveland Show, Fox’s "Family Guy" spinoff (premiering September 27) centered around Peter Griffin’s lovable African American neighbor. 

On the day that I drop by, last spring, in the Wilshire Boulevard offices, the scene is business as usual. Nearly. Superagent Ari Emanuel, the brother of the new White House Chief of Staff, is observing (he represents the show’s co-creator, Simpsons writing-staff alum Rich Appel). Taraji P. Henson has a guest spot, fresh off her Oscar nomination for “Benjamin Button.” Also in the house, wearing a crisp white shirt, is spiky haired executive producer and "Family Guy" mastermind Seth MacFarlane, the highest paid and most identifiable comedy writer in the world, no thanks to those Hulu ads in which aliens unfurl from his stomach. And there’s the humble presence of the day's most notable guest-star: Kanye West—quiet and composed, decked out in black, neon-yellow hightops, and his trademark oversized Wayfarers. (Sadly, Arianna Huffington, who plays a talking bear, is absent.)

“The Cleveland Show,” if this is the first you're hearing of it because you live in a glacier, is an attempt to recast the "Family Guy's" gentle deli owner as the patriarch of a new family in Rhode Island, where he lives with his gullible son, Cleveland, Jr., his new wife Roberta, and her ghettoriffic son, Rallo. But did you know America’s most heavily anticipated new African American sitcom’s really the brainchild of Mike Henry, a pale, 44-year-old white guy with easy smile from Richmond, V.A.?  As the source of Cleveland’s laconic whine and the gritty growls of Rallo, Henry seems as if he could just be some soccer dad from the burbs—and it’s a pretty surreal thing to watch, as he vacillates with epic smoothness between urban voice-archetypes as if somewhere inside him is a class clown from the South Side of Chicago. 

From the confines of his office, he says no one’s really ripped into him for doing black-voice—but that's just got to be a testament to how well he pulls it off. “Here Cleveland’s not just the Black Friend, but a much fuller, well-rounded character than he ever was," Henry adds. Appel, a former Harvard-educated lawyer who literally runs the read by announcing the script’s action as fast and naturally as a New York City auctioneer, sharpens the point: “There's a tradition in animated shows, and it’s a virtue that people often aspire to: colorblind casting. You have grown women playing Bart Simpson and Bobby Hill, and Hank Azaria as Apu.  We have Kevin Michael Richardson, who is African American,and while plays Cleveland, Jr., he also plays one of our most redneck, potentially racist [white] characters.”

An admitted “Family Guy” fan, Kanye is—surprise!—playing a character based on himself: a freestylin’ ladies man who competes for a chick with roley-poley Cleveland Jr. through a rap battle at a Jewish neighbor’s house. Picking up a Menorah, he spits: “This voodoo shit’s got nine candles/Your fat ass got nine loooove handles.” Kanye reads OK, if a little slowly, on the fly, but it's not half as magnetic as hearing him perform his own stuff—or, for that matter, posturing for attention on the VMAs.  Voiced smoothly with spot-on syncopation by actor Kevin Michael Richardson, Cleveland, Jr.'s retort wins: “Your flow is fated ‘n’ dated, deflated ‘n’ constipated. If I had to rate it? Hate it. Translated—you ate it… Hey cheeseball, you been grated. Chewed up, swallowed, defecated…On the DVD this won’t be pixilated.” 

Yep, this thing's written by the Family Guy crew.

And, expectedly, the in-crowd eats it up with cheers and measured guffahs. By the end, everyone’s congratulating each other, posing for snaps, and milling out to the hallway where a giant Cleveland cut-out stands in front of a large table of craft-service goodies. What I can’t forget, however, as Ari Emanuel offers Our Rap Icon a high-five handshake—power connection!—is how Hollywood rarely contrasts with its meta-depictions on shows like “Entourage.” To wit, the way Appel introduced the day’s Rhymin' Guest Star star an hour earlier: “The man who will appear two weeks from Saturday at my son’s Bar Mitzvah, I hope… Kanye West!”

*   *   *

As with any reported piece, there's often at least one Q&A behind it. For the true Cleveland fan, here's a three-way phoner I did with the show's co-creators after attending the Kanye Table Read...

Never Byrne-d Out

In the course of interviewing David Byrne for this short piece about his design work and music in May's Departures Culturewatch section, I realized that Shallot friend Hillman Curtis had done a really cool commercial (embedded above) for Byrne's joint album with Brian Eno "Everything That Happens Will Happen Today." For people who aren't in the know (which could have been me if I had not done this piece, sadly), the album has been freely streamable on the Web for some time. For those who like to hold amazing design in your hands and play with dice, you can still buy a Sagmeister-designed Deluxe (CD) Package that includes an original Hillman Curtis film about the album as well as a full book and other goodies (watch a video that explains the contents here). 

Byrne told me the following about why the duo decided to offer the album in these different forms. "We had both been thinking about the changes the music business has been going through," he said. "There are now many more ways that musicians can get their messages across than before, though the industry typically lags behind. We decided to try some of those out for ourselves by initially selling the record exclusively through our website and allowing people to stream the whole album if they simply wanted to hear what it was like.  It just seemed obvious. I wanted to sing these songs more, so I asked my booking agents to book some tours -- so that kind of gave the project an endpoint -- and the only way to get the music out to people before the tour started was to make it available online.  That said, there are many among us who still love a physical object. A well-designed package can enhance the experience. It used to be that an eye-catching package helped sell a record: it would shout at you like a box of laundry detergent. But I don't think CD package design is meant to do that anymore. Now it's more about adding another layer to the experience. I'd worked with Stefan (Sagmeister) many times before, so he was a natural choice."

Other questions broached in my interview included prompts about the joy of performing.  "At my age and situation, I don't need to tour simply for financial reasons (though I do make money touring)," Byrne said. "Though I would love to believe otherwise, I don't think touring sells many records either. I do it for two reasons: it's immensely pleasurable these days and because I can (immodestly, I can say that I do know how to perform and put on a show). The show we've created -- the band, crew, singers, dancers, choreographers, etc. -- is like nothing I've ever done before, so though half of the show consists of older material, it's been placed in a new context. At some point, performing changed from being a thing that I psychologically had to do into something that was actually pleasurable. Some edge in my demeanor might have been lost with those changes, but songs from that period remain, so the edginess can be dredged back up."

Byrne, as the article points out, also writes the music to the HBO show Big Love (coming back soon), which actually opens with Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys's "God Only Knows," so I was curious as to how he might add music to such a thoroughly branded motion picture experience.  "It's an interesting show and doing a score like this allows one to exercise some musical muscles one doesn't always use," Byrne said. "It's good to stretch oneself sometimes, to get out of a comfort zone, which forces some kind of creative response. Initially I thought I'd try to base much of the music on Mormon hymns -- not use them but write in that style. Having seen the 1st season, I sensed that many of the characters felt that their behavior and decisions were based on deep spiritual beliefs -- as wacky and unusual as some of it might seem to us. I therefore imagined that hymn-type chord progressions and melodies would hint at this spiritual underpinning without saying it out loud. The hope was also that this music would also help one empathize with the characters, even, or maybe especially, with some of the more extreme ones. Music can hint at their motivations and justifications, where their hearts are despite what we see them doing. Well, in the end, that approach only worked a few times: it tended to draw attention to itself and to draw you out of the intimate scale of the drama. That music tended to pull you back to a God's eye view of things -- yes, music can do that. So, in the end I had to use other muscles and write some other material that was subtler, more character driven."

Intriguing, especially for film music buffs (of which there are few, apparently). More au courant, perhaps, was Byrne's answer to my question about how he and Eno both influence(d) each other.  He answered: "The process of using the recording studio as a writing tool was something a few of us learned from Brian. Not that he was the only one to do it, but they way he encouraged us in Talking Heads (and myself) to start from zero and create new tracks was something we were ready for...it was the right idea, the right nudge, at the right moment. It wasn't that strange, really, as it basically was taking the writing process, which usually goes on in one's head, hidden, invisible, or little my little with a guitar in hand and some notepaper in front, and it made it all -- the creative process -- explicit, visible, and most important for potential collaborators, available for others to enter into. How did Talking Heads and myself influence Brian? I think we encouraged him to be a little more funky, more groove oriented."

how to write for harper's magazine

Ask Shallot friend Jon Kiefer.

Oh, My Word: Omaha's "Whatevs" Disaster. News as it Breaks.

The news is slowly creeping out of Nebraska Methodist Hospital. But apparently three ordinarily healthy septuagenarian Omaha librarians are still in critical care after suffering simultaneous cardiac arrests this morning when they were struck by news so grammatically and linguistically abominable that they could not maintain homeostasis. Margaret Dubrovic, 71, head librarian at Omaha's central library system, was reportedly enjoying a routine morning when her latest copy of The New Yorker magazine arrived in the mail. Allegedly, Dubrovic looked forward with great verve to the arrival of her private subscription copy and had been rumored to read half of the entire periodical well before the end of morning on delivery days with friends and co-librarians Betsy O'Neill, 74, and Edith Cooper, 76, both of whom also suffered cardiac arrests. But this morning the group happened upon what junior librarian Thomas DeBouef, 23, could only call "literary blasphemy of the highest proportions." The insidious word "whatevs," a slang term for "whatever" used by the so-called Britney Generation and the blog whatevs.org, apparently found its way into music critic Sasha Frere-Jones's recent review of the latest Coldplay album. And while the estimable writer had likely used the term in the most tongue-in-cheek manner, it even appeared as a one-word sentence--capitalized, of course. "He didn't have to go that far," said DeBouef, whose grandfather Eli, 89, also works in the library as a volunteer and suffered minor whiplash from today's events. "There's no doubt in my mind that the act of literally seeing such a word, if you can call it that, printed in the magazine these ladies have held so dear to their literary hearts for so many years caused their simultaneous tragedies. It's a damn shame." Of course, one Generation X reporter cannot help but wonder, in the words of character Carrie Bradshaw from the HBO show "Sex and the City," what septuagenarian librarians were hoping for from a review of a Coldplay album in the first place. "They weren't as shocked as many of their friends were that The New Yorker had taken to reviewing popular music so substantively over the last few years," added Debouef.  "They rather liked Coldplay, and as the article said, they often played the album 'Parachutes' during their afternoon tea sessions as a means to relax from the stress of their jobs." For now, however, the implicit danger posed by a simple unsubstantiated slang term such as "whatevs" is all an entire community can cling to for some explanation as to why their best librarians are on leave from the city's hottest reading room. More news as it breaks. In the meantime, get better, girls.

funniest press release of the week

These actually get sent to me. Say hello to this week's winner:

"Hi Adam,

I have a great story idea for you: Exotic Beauty Norms!

The standards of beauty vary tremendously from one culture to the next. So how does one know what exactly defines Exotic Beauty? Enticingly different eyes, fascinating faces, sexy, glamorous, mysterious?

Dr. [NAME REDACTED], who recently returned from Dubai, is an A-list surgeon who has traveled around the world and owns over 24 clinics in more than 15 countries. For him to succeed, it’s extremely imperative to understand the different beauty norms for each country that his patients strive to achieve. For example, what one girl in India deems “beautiful”, another in Shanghai may find repulsive.

As a specialist, Dr. [NAME REDACTED] answers to women with a variety of different requests on a daily basis. As such, he’s developed a keen eye for international beauty. We’d love to put you in touch with him to discuss these trends.  For more information about Dr. [NAME REDACTED] or to set up an interview, please contact me directly at: [PHONE NUMBER REDACTED].

Best,

[PR REP NAME REDACTED]"

What I don't think this doctor has realized is that he's far behind the times. Ideas of beauty changing from country to country are so last month. These days it's from street to street. I call it "Micro Community Beauty Norms" (TM). For instance, you're no longer drop-dead-hot on Beverly Hills's Beverly Drive if you're drop-dead-hot on Rodeo, which is just one street over. So, too, for Sunset and Hollywood Blvds. And I hear that pretty soon beauty is going to vary from block to block within micro communities, eventually even perhaps landing in the Eye of the Beholder, an ultra-exotic place with so much Otherness that apparently Indiana Jones has only read about it. But don't worry, PR rep: That's at least a month away. It's hard to forecast these things.

today's beltway mag browse

Finally in the open air for part of a day after too much time spent under imaging machines, I got to actually browse a bookstore for some current magazines. Handing my New Yorker, NatGeo, and other magazines to the clerk, however, I was accosted by a woman who looked like a former NPR colleague--PBS tote bag, stringy hair, big plastic glasses, and all.

"Oh," she said. "I am glad you are holding that upside down."

That? I asked, not knowing what she was talking about but eventually realizing it had something to do with the TNY Obama cover, the supposed uproar about which I know very little, except that it looks like a bold (which I consider good and necessary) portrayal of how certain Americans (probably not this woman) demonize and denigrate the guy.

"Well, um, you know, well, um, hmph," the lady said, implying that perhaps I might agree or disagree with the cover, I couldn't be sure.  (For the record, I support Obama as well as free speech.)

"I am sorry," I replied. "What are you asking me about?"

"Well, um, hmph, OK, but you also have the Nation in there, well, um, well, just, just forget it," she said.

"OK," I replied, smiling a bit.

Then she walked away, flustered, and I gave the clerk some cash. It was nice to be out in our funny world again.

[posted by TypePad Mobile]

an even trade: la farmers' markets for campo dei fiori?

How different are Italy's farmers' markets from California's? Having morphed into an Angeleno over the last few years, it's a tough question to answer, especially comparing swank Los Angeles and central Roma. In Larchmont, land of Yuppified Hollywood, you can find, on a Sunday morning, some of the freshest farmers' purple cauliflower, blood oranges (well, no longer this week), meyer lemons, and fava beans. But today, in Roma's Campo dei Fiori, all was alive and well even if I could not find blood oranges there either. I admit that I moved to California from New York after a decade-long love affair with Italy. For me, it was an escape from Washington Heights to America's Italia. I found even Hollywood (well, its hills and lemons) Italian. Still, while I didn't today venture so far into the unvisited Roma as my T+L colleague Gary Shteyngart did last year in Testaccio (Campo dei Fiori is, after all, one of Roma's most famous markets, filled with tourists and lame ristorantes selling everything from panini to "real, Italian" pizza and gelato as well as an amatriciana and carbonara for the Carmella Sopranos of the world), it was nice to be in the company of some fresh zucchini flowers, yelping fish salesmen, and plant seeds that honestly declared their status as "semi-Italian." What that means, I am not sure. But how many people in Los Angeles are from Southern California? And just where did they get their blood orange varietals? Allora...--AB

funniest pr faux-pas of the week

Can you believe the misspelled word in the first sentence--especially given the company this guy represents?

"Hi Adam –

Nike helped revolutionize the way people runn by allowing athletes to track their workout through the Nike+ program.  Now, Nike introduces the next evolution of the Nike+ experience – the Nike+ SportBand – which allows runners to get real-time performance feedback during a run, independent of music, while linking them to the world’s largest running club.  Also starting in April, all Nike+ runners can get access to their own personal online trainer with Nike+ Coach...

[DESCRIPTIVE INFO ABOUT NEW NIKE PRODUCTS DELETED TO SAVE YOU TIME.]

For any additional information, questions or to try the Nike+ SportBand, please contact [NAME AND NUMBER REDACTED]. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Best,

[NAME REDACTED] for Nike"

Stop Mattel from Scrabulous Facebook Raid!

[Cross-published on The Huffington Post]

Though I've somehow ended up as a professional writer, I never enjoyed Scrabble as a kid. I found it too wonky, or maybe I just had too small an attention span—when I had free time from music or words, I preferred to let my mind rest. Figuring out the exact place to drop a word like "fanworts" so that I could "achieve a righteous bingo," as my school's Scrabble fanatics liked to say, didn't seem like fun to me. I preferred smashing tennis balls. Or figuring out my taste in film.

But then, a few months ago, I began writing an article about social networks, which led, of course, to joining Facebook. I don't blame anyone else for what ensued. But yes, like most of America, I became quickly obsessed with the devilish social network, rife with time-wasting "apps," especially because I had a lot of time on the road, in isolation. Far be it for me to read more than I had to read for work: I could figure out what German philosopher I think like—well, according to whatever college sophomore created the personality quiz of the day (these were and reamin hardly trustworthy exams of one's values, but that's what's kind of fun about them--OK, not fun, but pleasantly distracting).

But with Facebook came a more virtuous diversion: Scrabulous, an interactive way to play a "scrabble"-like word game--a take on the form--with your "friends" wherein you were also given a list of all the geeky two-letter words acceptable to the dictionary and a game board that wouldn't allow you to throw down an invalid word. As well as a way to look some words up should your vocab need a little jumpstart. In fact, you could even throw down a word you didn't know as long as it worked. Say, "amu": the name I gave myself as a toddler. Apparently, "amu" is a word, according to Scrabulous dictionaries, which are close but a little looser than Scrabble dictionaries. I use "amu" all the time now. And I still haven't bothered looking it up. I've also used the word "speedo" much to my editor-friend's chagrin. And I'm not cheating. This is the scrabble-like variation for me, I decided. I can play this. I can use it to reconnect with true, far-flung friends. And I can win at it! [S]crabble--the form, not the product--is finally fun for me.

But today I learned of an extremely sad if predictable piece of news. Reuters is reporting that Mattel, the corporation that has the rights to Scrabble, the product, outside the U.S. and Canada, has asked Facebook to remove its Scrabulous application. Hasbro, Inc., the company that holds the U.S. and Canadian rights wasn't mentioned in the story. But I'm sure they won't be far behind.

Surely, the makers of Scrabulous, which can be played over the Internet or through e-mail—i.e. you don't need to use Facebook to play it—were aware of the inevitability of such a problem. But I don't see how it can't be rectified much in the same way that a thousand companies make Tetris-like clones. Does a company that owns the rights to Scrabble own the rights to the idea of the word game?

According to Wikipedia—purveyor of all accurate information (ahem)—Scrabble is also known as: "Alfapet, Funworder, Skip-A-Cross, Spelofun and Palabras Cruzadas" throughout the world. In fact, when Alfred Mosher Butts invented the game in 1938, he created a challenge based on another: an older word-related game he had fashioned called "Lexico." It was then sold to a Connecticut lawyer, then to other game manufacturers. (Parker Brothers rejected the game!). And it's even been a daytime gameshow hosted by none other than Chuck Woolery.

My point? It's part of popular culture, a recipe that can be reinterpreted like a pot pie. And now no one can own the idea of the game. Maybe certain companies own the rights to Scrabble's name and certain words for techniques used in that official game product. But at this point in time, this word game we're discussing should be considered a public-domain challenge. Much in the way a crossword puzzle isn't owned by anyone. [S]crabble is a form—it has become a form. It isn't just something you can buy. And you can't claim ownership to a form. Well, you could try, but that just wouldn't be cool. Intellectual property here is a rather vague matter, and I'm glad in this instance.

Expectedly, upon hearing this news, many of my friends contacted me, including one prominent computer software executive: What are you going to do now? she asked. She knew of my obsession. My answer? Create a Facebook group promoting a new way to play and to fight Mattel. Scrabulous has certainly brought me a lot of time-killing joy over the last few months. But it's also given me a whole new and improved way to procrastinate, which is part and parcel of the writer's trade. In the past, when I was trying to avoid work, I'd watch a film, play a sport, or sit by my pool listening to music. I might even sit and do nothing. And that's not the same as meditate. I'd rarely engage my mind in anything productive. But Scrabulous has given me a way to procrastinate that makes me a better thinker and writer. I can now drop "fanwort," "luteolin," or any of my recent lucky bingos into conversation and yes, my current writing assignments. I also think it's sharpening my logic at a time when the Internet and even some of my work is dismantling it.

Sure, I'm the most unlikely Scrabble devotee you're ever going to meet. But that's exactly why the scrabble-challenge-loving community should heed my call. It's the form we love, and the online version of this game only builds love for that. In fact, I now want to play the official board game with friends when I have free time. I'm more likely to purchase a fancy, branded Scrabble set. But if Scrabulous leaves Facebook—leaving me to answer one more ridiculous personality quiz (let's be honest: these aren't making me happier or smarter) or to send one more virtually hatching egg gift to a person I see every day--I may not want to continue this new love affair with word games. It's that tenuous, this love affair. It's hanging by a virtual string.

Left to my own devices by the demise of Facebook Scrabulous, I may just retreat to the procrastination of yesteryear and rarely desire to do anything that a lazy writer didn't used to do when he was trying to avoid the next assignment. I may turn to some far-less self-improving activity. I may look for answers in the (pomegranate juice) bottle. In public conversations. Or in a Wii!  So let's band together and fight. If we don't, it will be a longstanding shame. For my readers, Scrabble, and for thousands of other virtually social, procrastinating writers me.

oh, please offer us some...intelligent variety

I had a funny discussion the other day with another New Yorker living in LA. He said he felt like an "expat" here: a "big fish living in a small pond," in his telling--at least when it comes to meeting people who think beyond headlines. I didn't exactly agree or make the statement, but it wasn't the first time I heard it. Luckily, I've met tons of brilliant people in my new fair city. But I've sought a lot of them out. You don't always converse with new ones in line at El Pollo Loco. But my tales of serendipitous philosophical chicken-joint communion will have to wait.

Funnily, another friend just pointed out that Variety, Hollywood's glory trade mag (Ari Gold once called it the "school paper" on Entourage), linked to my Sweeney Todd piece earlier in December. The blog's quote? "Adam Baer claims that 'Tim Burton "re-invents the movie musical" with 'Sweeney Todd.' Really?'"

I had to laugh when I saw that. Did the blogger even realize that the actual subhead of the article--written by someone other than me--made it very clear that "re-inventing the movie musical" is what the filmmakers claim, and that I simply reported what they had to say? Probably not, because short-order blogs and especially movie-trade blogs meant for D-people aren't exactly the most accurate places to get your news.

Read the story that I wrote carefully. There's hardly any criticism in the piece, save for a very careful statement that reads: " [Sweeney's] as entertaining, artistic and efficient as anyone could make a 'Sweeney Todd' film that might appeal to a broad swath of moviegoers." While I believe the movie is entertaining and a great shot at creating a Hollywood movie version of Sweeney, save for a lot of the singing, I don't go beyond that point. I'm not hired to be a critic here. And I'm actually pleased with that fact.  So argue away with each other. I'm not jumping into the fray as a film or music critic on this one.

And that's the way it was supposed to be. I was paid to tell other peoples' stories in this case. Additionally, I write that:  "The key, therefore, was not to produce a performance film like Ingmar Bergman's "The Magic Flute" but to create an original movie genre: a consciously present-day spoke-sung music-film with younger actors, no traditional singers and a cinema-grotesquerie style, full of viscous slashes of blood." But this isn't my opinion. It's implied that the "key" belongs to the filmmakers.  This is the opinion of those interviewed--see forthcoming Steven Sondheim quote. It's factual reportage.

In Sondheim's words: "You can't just adapt stage musicals for the screen. You have to re-create them."

If I had been hired to critique the film, I might have printed all kinds of comments that discuss this recreation of genre and what Sweeney means to music and film. But I wasn't. And I'm not going to do it here and undermine my story. I stand by it. And if its sub-headline should read that the filmmakers' claim they've created a new genre--and if I should go on to give you those opinions--well, that doesn't mean I'm making the critical statement.

Frankly, after a childhood of conservatory composition, mainstream movie-loving, and a decade of criticism, I don't think Sweeney re-invents the movie musical; I think it adds new elements to it as filmic entertainment.  As I wrote: " Sweeney's new Burtonesque world is a visceral, inflated experience only film can provide."

But please, Variety blog, read between the lines before misquoting reporters on critical statements they, personally, haven't made. This sort of reaction to a story about Sweeney Todd is exactly what worried me when I learned such a meaningful and complex piece of music-theater was going to be fed to the multiplex crowd--and those who blog for those who feed them. Perhaps I should have asked the producers if they were worried about how the insider movie press would handle the movie and the primary press it might inspire--as opposed to how audiences across America would handle it. Happily, I left a midwestern theater the other day after seeing the movie in its completed version to find goth teenagers singing "Nothing's Gonna Harm You..." Sondheim doesn't need anyone's help connecting to any brand of audience.