In my household this weekend, we mainly talked about the Super Bowl half-time show. Why hasn't Tay Tay ever done it? What would be more enjoyable--suffering through Maroon Five's upcoming insipid performance or sitting alone in a dingy room and eating your gun?
And where is Justin Bieber in all of this?
These questions were good, and provocative, and they led me to recall my favorite Half-Time story. It involves Adele. Asked, once, if she would perform, she chuckled. "No, no," she said. "That show? That's not about music."
I love this regal, bitchy story. I love that Adele could blithely dismiss the Super Bowl option. I love that she not only made her cutting remark, but then felt impelled to share that cutting remark with all of the world, on some chat show.
The Half-Time event may not be about music (certainly not this year, for Maroon Five has never made anything resembling music in its long, long, endless career). And all that said, I still dream of Adele giving America another chance. I dream of her graciously stooping to our level, for our benefit. I know she has a half-time show in her soul, or actually multiple half-time shows (though, bizarrely, my card-carrying homosexual husband claimed to be unable to see it, in his mind. Not teasing, Marc! Maybe gently teasing).
So, for my husband, at least, here's one of many, many avenues Adele could pursue (if she deigned to consider shedding her brilliant light on the tedious affair that is America's Big Night):
(1) Open with "Skyfall." Just a few mysterious bars, just enough to remind us of this great song and of the fact that, yes, among Adele's countless honors is an Academy Award. We hear her velvety voice; she's in a silky black gown; we remember a more innocent time in our history, when there were still moderately exciting James Bond movies on a fairly regular basis. In a smoky, subterranean chamber, Adele murmurs about the apocalypse, or death, or whatever this song addresses. The melody slows down; there's an impression of stretching, stretching taffy; Adele uses rubato. And then:
(2) An explosion. With a burst of fireworks, Adele is shot up, through a cannon, onto the main-stage. She lands on a trampoline, does several flips, and: "Send My Love (to Your New Lover)." It's the only choice. This song rocks. There are gyrating gay men. Adele's voice gets breathy and playful; she's in her head; then BAM. The chest voice. "Treat her....BE--EHH--EHH--TER...Gotta let go..." Neon ghosts fly from the goalposts up, up into the sky. ("Gotta let go of all of our ghosts.") And:
(3) Brief segue, then we're treated to "Water Under the Bridge." Not my favorite, because the emphasized syllables are really weird: "Our love ain't waTER unDER the bridge." Sondheim would hate this. Still, it's a jaunty number, and I could imagine Annie Lennox making an appearance; there could be a short duet, and then maybe Annie could sing a few bars from "Walking on Broken Glass," because these kinds of surprise visits are things that Super Bowl viewers tend to like. (And why the hell has Annie Lennox never been featured at the Super Bowl before? You're telling me they really, really needed to make room for Coldplay? Ha. Ha. Ha.)
(4) It's time for a slow section. This is where Lady Gaga put everyone to sleep with "Million Reasons." But, unlike many, Adele has an arsenal of killer slow songs. It's almost an endless list. I call it the: "Pitiable, Needy Speaker Makes No Effort to Conceal Her Neediness and Loser Status" list. I propose a medley: "I'll Find Someone Like You though It's No Longer When We Were Young and All I Ask is that You Say HELLO." Are you crying already?
(5) There's one way to end, obviously. It's "Rolling in the Deep," with a brief break-out section for a few bars from "Set Fire to the Rain." I'm picturing an ocean theme, but also big jets of flame, high above the spectators' heads. Adele is perhaps--literally--on fire (if we can find her the proper protective body suit). The football fans hold glowing lights that spell out "WE COULD HAVE. HAD IT. ALL." Annie Lennox comes back out. There are thermometers, to suggest a "fever pitch." There is, obviously, rain.
And that's your show. Actually, I'm shocked this hasn't happened yet. Spread the word. Start the campaign. You're welcome.
And where is Justin Bieber in all of this?
These questions were good, and provocative, and they led me to recall my favorite Half-Time story. It involves Adele. Asked, once, if she would perform, she chuckled. "No, no," she said. "That show? That's not about music."
I love this regal, bitchy story. I love that Adele could blithely dismiss the Super Bowl option. I love that she not only made her cutting remark, but then felt impelled to share that cutting remark with all of the world, on some chat show.
The Half-Time event may not be about music (certainly not this year, for Maroon Five has never made anything resembling music in its long, long, endless career). And all that said, I still dream of Adele giving America another chance. I dream of her graciously stooping to our level, for our benefit. I know she has a half-time show in her soul, or actually multiple half-time shows (though, bizarrely, my card-carrying homosexual husband claimed to be unable to see it, in his mind. Not teasing, Marc! Maybe gently teasing).
So, for my husband, at least, here's one of many, many avenues Adele could pursue (if she deigned to consider shedding her brilliant light on the tedious affair that is America's Big Night):
(1) Open with "Skyfall." Just a few mysterious bars, just enough to remind us of this great song and of the fact that, yes, among Adele's countless honors is an Academy Award. We hear her velvety voice; she's in a silky black gown; we remember a more innocent time in our history, when there were still moderately exciting James Bond movies on a fairly regular basis. In a smoky, subterranean chamber, Adele murmurs about the apocalypse, or death, or whatever this song addresses. The melody slows down; there's an impression of stretching, stretching taffy; Adele uses rubato. And then:
(2) An explosion. With a burst of fireworks, Adele is shot up, through a cannon, onto the main-stage. She lands on a trampoline, does several flips, and: "Send My Love (to Your New Lover)." It's the only choice. This song rocks. There are gyrating gay men. Adele's voice gets breathy and playful; she's in her head; then BAM. The chest voice. "Treat her....BE--EHH--EHH--TER...Gotta let go..." Neon ghosts fly from the goalposts up, up into the sky. ("Gotta let go of all of our ghosts.") And:
(3) Brief segue, then we're treated to "Water Under the Bridge." Not my favorite, because the emphasized syllables are really weird: "Our love ain't waTER unDER the bridge." Sondheim would hate this. Still, it's a jaunty number, and I could imagine Annie Lennox making an appearance; there could be a short duet, and then maybe Annie could sing a few bars from "Walking on Broken Glass," because these kinds of surprise visits are things that Super Bowl viewers tend to like. (And why the hell has Annie Lennox never been featured at the Super Bowl before? You're telling me they really, really needed to make room for Coldplay? Ha. Ha. Ha.)
(4) It's time for a slow section. This is where Lady Gaga put everyone to sleep with "Million Reasons." But, unlike many, Adele has an arsenal of killer slow songs. It's almost an endless list. I call it the: "Pitiable, Needy Speaker Makes No Effort to Conceal Her Neediness and Loser Status" list. I propose a medley: "I'll Find Someone Like You though It's No Longer When We Were Young and All I Ask is that You Say HELLO." Are you crying already?
(5) There's one way to end, obviously. It's "Rolling in the Deep," with a brief break-out section for a few bars from "Set Fire to the Rain." I'm picturing an ocean theme, but also big jets of flame, high above the spectators' heads. Adele is perhaps--literally--on fire (if we can find her the proper protective body suit). The football fans hold glowing lights that spell out "WE COULD HAVE. HAD IT. ALL." Annie Lennox comes back out. There are thermometers, to suggest a "fever pitch." There is, obviously, rain.
And that's your show. Actually, I'm shocked this hasn't happened yet. Spread the word. Start the campaign. You're welcome.
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