Better late than never…

Are you looking for a movie to watch on Halloween? Or are you looking to extend your Halloween watch marathon into November?

This is a brief list of films that I’ve enjoyed in Octobers past and present. Feel free to consider any or all of them for your current/future holiday plans.

“Dawn of the Dead” (1978)

This George Romero film received a solid remake by Zack Snyder in 2004, but I much prefer the original. It famously tracks a zombie apocalypse that leads four survivors to an abandoned shopping mall. Much has been said about Tom Savini’s make-up, giving you dozens of gross-out kills to remember forever. I do love the main setting and the fact that so much of the film revolves around securing the mall. While you can criticize their plans, the main heroes are remarkably smart for a horror movie. Once they reach their temporary hideout, they spend time clearing out the location, gathering supplies, and figuring out their next move. There’s also some childlike wish-fulfillment in the form of being stuck in a mall and having every store to yourself.

There are multiple versions available to watch (on YouTube for free). If you love zombies and have extra time, you can watch the extended/complete cuts. There’s also a shorter European version with a score by Goblin. Each one has its own merits. Each October, I try to watch it at least once.

“The Old Dark House” (1932)

Do you like old movies? I mean, do you really like old movies?

If you said “yes” to both questions without the slightest hesitation, “The Old Dark House” might be for you. It’s full of many legendary actors that end up stuck in a creepy house during a storm. The setup alone intrigued me and I spent many years almost watching this movie. To clarify, I’d started it many times and never gave it my full attention. That all changed this year and I’m glad I finally finished it. The film makes use of its spooky setting to build suspense before the characters end up in grave danger. “Frankenstein” director James Whale directs the likes of Charles Laughton, Raymond Massey, Gloria Stuart, Melvyn Douglas, and Boris Karloff. If nothing else, the movie lets a group of grade-A actors explore a mansion while saying snappy dialog. It’s also available free on YouTube.

“The Devils” (1971)

This film by Ken Russell was censored, banned, and reviled for many years. A recent re-release brought it to a nearby theater, giving me an opportunity to watch a restored version. It revolves around a real story whereby a womanizing French priest became the subject of a show trial after accusations of demonic activity. When a nun sees visions of the man, she sets off a chain of earth-shattering allegations that rock the town of Loudon.

Russell is in top form as one of the boldest British filmmakers of his time. He teams up with many cinematic craftsman including production designer Derek Jarman. With visceral and moving performances by Oliver Reed and Vanessa Redgrave, this movie is one of the rare times I can seriously use the phrase “leaps off the screen.” It’s a dark and uncomfortable experience at times, but I do think you’ll be rewarded if you accept the challenge. Is it miraculous or blasphemous? You be the judge.

“The Haunting” (1963)

Director Robert Wise made this film in between “West Side Story” and “The Sound of Music.” Unfortunately for musical fans, this movie is the furthest thing from those two Best Picture winners. Based on Shirley Jackson’s “The Haunting of Hill House,” this black-and-white film traces the mysterious history of a haunted house. Paranormal investigator Dr. John Markway invites several people to investigate the claims against Hill House during an extended sleepover. Eleanor Lance is one of the participants that comes to learn the awful truth of such a scary place.

You have to be in the right mood for this one. Like many older horror films, it takes its time and works especially well if you’re not tired. I appreciate some of the vintage horror techniques, encouraging the viewer to imagine the worst of it rather than showing you. The location, with its endless hallways and brutal staircases, draws you in and then terrifies you. Jackson’s novel received multiple adaptations, but there’s an old-school charm to this one that keeps me coming back.

“Threads” (1984)

This is an odd pick for Halloween, but I’d say it’s among the scariest movies I’ve ever seen. This TV movie is also the most sobering pick on this list. It covers the build-up and aftermath of a nuclear war, focusing on the lives of British people reeling from a global disaster. The limited budget and effects almost help to make this feel like more of a docu-drama. As the survivors of the blast pick up the pieces, they try to endure radiation poisoning and food rationing. There are several unforgettable moments littered throughout this depressing tale. Do not, I repeat, do not watch this movie unless you’re prepared for the bleak plot.

“House on Haunted Hill” (1959)

So that I don’t end on a complete downer, I’ll offer up this B-movie for a bonus recommendation. It stars Vincent Price as a man offering several guests money if they can stay the night at his house. The challenge seems easy enough until the sounds, sights, and surprises become too much for some. Price gives you the exact kind of performance you’d want from him, reminding us all why he’s the king of B-horror movies. There’s a number of cheesy moments that blend in with a few decent scares. It’s all courtesy of beloved entertainer and director William Castle.

What are some of your favorite scary movies to watch during Halloween?

“Hey there, Mr. Jambo, out there in the African sun. Do you ever get tired?”

This song by Kyle Gordon starts off with these comically-innocent lyrics. In the track, the singer greets a man from an unspecified African country, doesn’t understand him, and makes up his own interpretation of the man’s response.

This parody functions like an accurate summary of white musicians inspired by a wide variety of African artists. Some were more well-intentioned than others, but there seemed to be a wave of white singers and predominantly-white groups in the 1980s obsessed by the same concept. What if they changed up their sound, collaborated with new musicians, and embraced a genre sometimes known as “world music” or what became known as “worldbeat.”

“Mr. Jambo” effectively sent me down a rabbit hole to better understand these terms. I didn’t make it that far, but here are few of my prevailing thoughts and minimal insights. I can say that there are some compelling interviews all over YouTube about the following subjects. At the very least, I also found myself exploring the nebulous Wikipedia pages for entire music genres (a phenomenon that continues to confuse me). Who decides what artist or album falls into these genres? Where do they begin and end? Is worldbeat a fully-functional genre?

There are many examples, but a few records stick out to me. And yes, there’s also the immortal “Africa” by Toto (with a video that needs to be seen to be believed).

The obvious starting point was the 1980s, but one detail I discovered seemed to encapsulate the peak of this genre that I barely understand.

The two records I’m interested in were both released in the same year and even competed against each other at the 29th Annual Grammy Awards. At the 1987 ceremony, these five albums were nominated for Album of the Year.

“Back in the High Life Again” by Steve Winwood

“The Broadway Album” by Barbra Streisand

“Control” by Janet Jackson

“Graceland” by Paul Simon

“So” by Peter Gabriel

The last two albums feel rooted in the same general concept. They were released by men of a similar generation, roughly a decade or more into their solo careers, exploring a variety of African musical styles, and doing so while arguably releasing the peak album of their (solo) careers.

“Graceland” won Album of the Year and went on to be among the more influential records of the decade. “So” didn’t miss out on praise either, marking a high point for Peter Gabriel’s career and including many notable singles like “Sledgehammer.”

Both records dabble in the worldbeat/world-music genre, and you’ll likely hear one or both of them referenced when someone more qualified than me discusses the topic. The sounds seemed to linger throughout the 1980s in particular, almost in the same way reggae influenced the 1970s. The influence of Fela Kuti’s work inspired bands like Talking Heads, producer Brian Eno, and a whole generation of Western listeners.

I once again claim ignorance each time I throw together an entire continent’s musical diversity into a description like “African music.” It makes about as much sense as saying “American music.” As I understand it, this musical bridge between pop and world music can be oversimplified into the concept of “worldbeat.”

Talking Heads were more revolutionary and bold in their sound experiments. In many ways, they were the furthest thing from Paul Simon. “Remain in Light” is an incredible showcase for a cutting-edge band, but the average person likely knows “Graceland” much better. That’s not the ultimate test of a piece of music, but it speaks to Simon’s reach and accessibility as an artist.

“Graceland” seems to be the most emblematic of this intriguing and sometimes-controversial genre. It was an album that didn’t come without scandal. Paul Simon defied a boycott to make a record with South African musicians during Apartheid, drawing ire from activists and fellow musicians.

The singer invited groups like Ladysmith Black Mambazo and the Boyoyo Boys to record with him. He also worked with Linda Ronstadt and bands like Los Lobos on album. Ronstadt previously received sharp criticism for playing in South Africa, while the latter group accused Simon of stealing their ideas (and they weren’t the only ones accusing Simon either). There’s plenty of material to go around about the controversies, including a fascinating counterpoint from Steven Van Zandt.

The making of this album (and many others like it) deserves as much scrutiny as you’re willing to give it, but it’s also hard to deny the end result. It’s ultimately up to each listener to decide whether or not they can hear the record without considering the behind-the-scenes stories. From what I can tell, a large contingent of people just love the album and separate the music from its historical context.

As far as the music goes, everything from the big singles to the deep tracks deserves a thorough listen. There’s the dynamic opener “The Boy in the Bubble,” the title track’s imaginative lyrics, the guitar riffs and vocals on “I Know What I Know,” and the laidback grooves on “Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes.”

Meanwhile, Peter Gabriel enlisted his own collection of artists for his fifth album “So.” Having worked with U2 and Brian Eno on “The Unforgettable Fire,” Daniel Lanois was well on his way to becoming an in-demand producer. After “So,” he would work with U2 again on their magnum opus “The Joshua Tree.” His knack for rock, pop, and folk sounds carried him through a decade of eclectic records including “Time Out of Mind” with Bob Dylan (another Album of the Year winner).

With all of the musicians on “Graceland,” the album “So” also offers up an amazing personnel list. Stewart Copeland appears on the opener “Red Rain,” adding to the incredible percussion sounds of that track.

Nile Rodgers and Laurie Anderson appear on “This Is the Picture (Excellent Birds).” Kate Bush joins Gabriel on the ballad “Don’t Give Up,” while Gabriel’s longtime bassist Tony Levin provides key work throughout the album. There’s also guest vocals from Senegalese singer Youssou N’Dour on “In Your Eyes.” In one of the direct connections between “Graceland” and “So,” N’Dour also played percussion on Simon’s album.

Listening to both records again, I’m amazed by how many great basslines there are. Levin is a legend in his own right, but on Paul Simon’s album you also have some spectacular work from bassist Bakithi Kumalo. If you want to do worldbeat, you better have a good bass part.

Each album is jam-packed with famous and lesser-known artists coming together for something special. They come together to help represent a year, a decade, a phase in the Western music canon, and the careers of two talented men.

I didn’t come away an expert on world music, but I did come to appreciate these albums as musical statements. In an ideal world, every musician on each album would be as rich and famous as the lead performer. At the very least, “Graceland” and “So” are a reminder to inspect the finer details of a great album.

When “Mr. Jambo” inspired me to listen to “Graceland” and “So” again, I also wondered where these albums would rank after another listen. I first listened to both records when I was in high school, but it had been years since I’d given them a full spin from start to finish. Paul Simon’s album is an undeniable classic and my most recent listen reminded me of that. I might prefer the huge sound of Peter Gabriel’s “So,” but I do feel by the end of all this that it’s still a tough choice. My hypothesis was also incorrect. I imagined them as strikingly similar, but in the end I found them to be completely different in terms of sound and production.

In the end, I stumbled into an obvious point. No two records are the same despite the many surface-level similarities. Like the hero from “You Can Call Me Al,” I too am humbling asking for a “shot at redemption.”

When I entered one of the modern art galleries at the Cleveland Museum of Art (CMA), I saw pieces from Jackson Pollock, Lee Krasner, and Mark Rothko. A plaque next to the latter artist’s painting featured this quote.

“I’m interested only in expressing basic human emotions—tragedy, ecstasy, doom, and so on…”

It wasn’t the first time I’d been to the CMA, but it was the longest time I’d spent inspecting Rothko’s “No. 2 (Red Maroons).” You can go to a museum multiple times in order to revisit a painting you love, or to look for new inspiration elsewhere. It’s also a chance to spend some time with an artwork you might normally walk by.

Having learned a little more about Rothko since my last visit, I figured I’d try again. Once you know their name or their style, you’re halfway there. An art history class or two will tell you that. Even if I don’t immediately love an artwork, I do find the story or plaque-related context fascinating. This is the case with Rothko and many other artists on display at this Cleveland institution.

When I start to recognize someone’s work from across a crowded gallery, the entire museum begins to expand.

This time, I ventured to the CMA to view an Andrew Wyeth exhibition. He was another case of someone I’d never known by name until a few years ago. Wyeth is most famous for “Christina’s World,” but his legacy (like many others) is more complex than one painting. I took a chance on the exhibition showcasing the artist’s watercolors. Some were especially rare, while other pieces provided a clear link to Wyeth’s love of Winslow Homer and Edward Hopper. Every painter is a link in a chain that goes back a thousand years. Knowing both of these men, I started to view the paintings with new eyes. I also credit the curators for providing some key context and explaining Wyeth’s shifting style during a transformative time in art.

Once I’d finished admiring the watercolors, I explored the museum’s permanent collection. A beautiful atrium connects the old museum building from the newer addition. If you’ve never been, you might be surprised that such a vast and well-curated collection sits near the Lake Erie shores. There’s ancient sculptures, antique furniture, and paintings from the masters. The CMA even ranks highly among other American museums, once coming in 2nd in the U.S.

In the CMA galleries, you’ll find Picasso, Degas, Monet, Manet, Van Gogh, Mondrian, Dali, and many others. On this particular visit, I found a few paintings that I’d almost forgotten about. There’s one of J.M.W. Turner’s most breathtaking works sitting in a humble gallery with other 19th century British artwork. If I hadn’t turned a corner and gone deeper into the museum, I might’ve missed it entirely.

“The Burning of the Houses of Lords and Commons, 16th October, 1834” features a glimpse at a real event with Turner’s proto-impressionistic style on full display. In person, I saw the full effect of the flames wisping through the London air. You don’t always get the depth of the painting, or the technique, when you see it on a screen. This also helps when a particular artist uses a more deliberate technique. In the case of Van Gogh, you can see each individual brushstroke as if it just happened. For other painters like Turner, you see how well they’ve hidden their work.

When I was in college, I took an art history class my senior year. It’s one of the reasons I’ve come to enjoy art museums even more. By connecting history and art together, I found every artist infinitely more fascinating. If you look at a particular movement or era, you uncover a bunch of artists that often intertwine or inspire each other. It’s a relatively simple and straightforward concept, but one that can upgrade a basic museum trip into a scavenger hunt.

The impressionism/post-impressionism galleries are a personal highlight, guiding visitors through a century of innovation with many intense works. Once there, you can experience the wall-to-wall effect of Monet’s waterlilies or the staggering achievement of pointillism.

When I passed by a striking landscape by Thomas Cole, a woman and her museum partner pointed at the painting. She mentioned the autumn-inspired work as being the key to unlocking Cole as one of her favorites. Sometimes, all it takes is one painting to kickstart a lifelong obsession. It’s hard to imagine that feeling hitting any harder than when you see a painting in person.

These moments, stories, and flashes of brilliance await you in every gallery. The visceral movements in “Stag at Sharkey’s” by George Bellows. The isolated landscape of “Hills, South Truro” by Edward Hopper. The implied storyline and choreography in “The Lovers” by James Tissot. Some more famous than others, but each one a portal into an artist’s time and place.

Outside of the museum, a version of Rodin’s “The Thinker” stands tall with its own intriguing story. In 1970, an unknown person or persons placed explosives beneath the statue and blew it up. Rather than restoring the work, the museum put it back outside with the wounds visible to visitors. If you ever want to fall down a rabbit hole, do some more research on that incident.

There’s a world of intrigue and art history at CMA, featuring both exciting exhibitions and permanent collection items. The aforementioned artworks are just the tip of the iceberg. While there are many hallowed halls and arenas in Cleveland, this place might be my favorite spot to keep visiting year after year.

Thanks for reading and consider visiting your local museum today.

“No one likes us, I don’t know why/We may not be perfect, but heaven knows we try…”

Randy Newman’s songs mix humor, tragedy, satire, and poetry. They’re full of history lessons, long-winded jokes, clever wordplay, and detailed geographical references.

“There’s a red moon rising on the Cuyahoga River/rolling into Cleveland to the lake…”

He’s a solo artist, a singer/songwriter, and a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductee. His songs have been covered by everyone from Harry Nilsson to Three Dog Night.

“This is the craziest party that could ever be/don’t turn on the lights, ‘cause I don’t want to see…”

He composed the music for films like “Ragtime,” “The Natural,” and Pixar films such as “Toy Story.”

“Now I know exactly who I am/And what I’m here for/And I will go sailing no more…”

He’s not without his controversies. Many of his songs have provoked discussions for their point of view, lyrical content, and historical context.

“Sail away/sail away/We will cross the mighty ocean into Charleston bay…”

He’s one of the great unreliable narrators of the 20th century.

“Let’s sing a song of long ago/When things were green and moving slow/And people’d stop to say hello/Or they’d say ‘Hi’ to you…”

Like many people born in the 90s, I first heard Randy Newman in Pixar films. My dad is also a fan of his early work, introducing me to songs like “Political Science.” Then there’s a song with an Ohio connection like “Burn On.” In a way, I’ve been orbiting his career for my entire life.

“Look at that mountain/look at those trees/Look at that bum over there, man/He’s down on his knees…”

He has a voice that’s not for everyone, but it’s essential to his process. Shows like “Mad TV and “Family Guy” poked fun at it. There’s an earthy quality to it. A deep, South-meets-West Coast drawl. If you listen to it long enough, there’s also something warm and cozy about it.

“I’ll be home/When your nights are troubled and you’re all alone…You can always count on me…”

In Randy Newman’s music, the American Dream is always just out of reach. He sets the scene with pure nostalgia before pulling the rug out from under you. In other cases, there’s no rug at all and you’re left frowning on a dusty, wood floor. His lyrics are deathly funny until they break your heart.

“Beat-up little seagull/On a marble stair/Tryin’ to find the ocean/Lookin’ everywhere…”

He could also write a ballad. Whether tongue-in-cheek or deeply sincere, he isn’t above a tune that harkens back to Porter, Kern, or Hart. It’s often one that seems to connect him to his family’s musical lineage. The Newman family helped build the soundtrack for the Golden Age of Hollywood and its afterglow.

“You’re the song that the trees sing when the wind blows/You’re a flower/you’re a river/you’re a rainbow…”

Of the many misfits, outcasts, and creeps that populate his songs, some deserve more empathy than others. Some are plain ugly, while others seem to represent the last shred of greatness hiding in all of us.

“Sing a song for a good man/Sing a sad song for me/A sad song for a sailor/A thousand miles from the sea”

After 11 studio albums and many accolades, Randy Newman wrote many words and compositions that deserve praise. The ones above are a fraction of his excellent career.

Thanks for reading.

Some of the following really happened…

Put-in-Bay is a village on South Bass Island. It sits about three miles from the Northern Ohio coast and can be reached by ferry or aircraft. To many Ohioans, this summer destination is synonymous with trashy parties, drinking, and trashy parties thinly-disguised as formal occasions.

You can find a bit of everything there. A monument to the War of 1812, restaurants, hotels, bars, wineries, parks, bars, miniature golf, caves, and bars.

The other week, I took the Miller Ferry from Port Clinton to that magical land. It’s a place where Jimmy Buffett fans, bachelorette parties, and golf-cart drivers roam free. There’s an entire culture that surrounds this place, but I’ve only seen it from a treasure hunter’s eyes.

For several years, I’ve accompanied my family to a charity scavenger hunt event at Put-in-Bay.

The main focus of the day is to raise money and awareness for Type 1 diabetes. By the time the afternoon rolls around, teams of friends, family members, and polite enemies descend upon the island looking to win. We’re given 4-5 sheets of questions that require us to scour the main roads, downtown square, and various landmarks looking for answers. You’re either given a rough location name or a random address, leading you to zip down streets at 20mph if you’re lucky. There are 50 questions and chances are you can’t do half of them.

Many of the other contestants in this game are older than me, but some of them have a cutthroat nature that I can only imagine. There’s an almost heightened sense of urgency at all times. You get the feeling that even some of the more unassuming participants are willing to sabotage you at any moment. They’re the ones you have to watch out for. In the back of your mind, you wonder how you can win. When you encounter other teams in the wild, you imagine what it might be like to send each other false information. You arrive at a location right after another team and create the chance for espionage. Do you two help each other or not?

To be quite honest, this all happens despite the fact that most teams (like mine) are lucky to get 20 questions correct. The weather will often fail to cooperate, your directional skills will be tested, many side roads start to look the same, and tiny details around town start to read like red herrings.

How many heads are in the stained glass windows at a local church? What obscure fact about maritime history awaits you at the South Bass Island lighthouse? Are you willing to take a selfie with random wait staff and/or tie-dyed tourists? All of these questions may find you on your quest.

You only have four hours to complete your task, but that ends up being four hours too little. If you arrive sleep deprived with no concept of space and time (like many visitors of Put-in-Bay), you’ll have no idea what’s going on anyway. As the golf cart putters down a shady avenue, you start to wonder if some people never get off of South Bass Island. This place might be heaven for the Northern beach bum, but it’s likely hiding all sorts of real and metaphorical skeletons.

It’s important to note that Pelee Island to the north was a former stop for the bootleggers during prohibition. I can only imagine how many rocks were tied to bodies in order for them to sink deep into the lake. These and other 20th-century thoughts might cloud the mind during the scavenger hunt, but you must stay focused at all costs. Your goal of beating your previous high score is all that really matters.

You’ll also come to realize that a pack of Welch’s fruit snacks will save your life. Then again, if you find yourself eating a pack of only strawberry Welsh’s fruit snacks you’ll reconsider your life up to that point. A melted granola bar serves as a suitable substitute to push you over the finish line. In the ending ceremony, you realize that few of the other groups seem to care about the scavenger aspect of this day. The more level-headed people concern themselves with having fun and raising money for a good cause.

The day is all about charity, but it also inspires the con-artist brain in all of us. In the back of your mind, you still wonder what it would be like to go all out. You imagine what kind of sharp objects could pierce a golf cart tire. You wonder if any locals could be bribed in order to shave 30 minutes off of your run time. Perhaps in another year, the scavenger hunt will be twice as intense and the rulebook will be thrown out the window. Until that fateful day, you mark your calendar for next year in the hopes that Put-in-Bay will still be there upon your return. There’s always a chance that the island might sink like a bootlegger with rocks in their pockets.

Before Davy Jones adds the land mass to his underwater collection, you agree to be cordial next time and hopefully you stop at Toft’s ice cream in Sandusky on the way home.

P.S. Try the Lake Erie Cookie Island Monster flavor at Toft’s. It’ll make the pain of losing the scavenger hunt go away.

One food captured my imagination as a child. Until the age of 11 or 12, I considered chicken tenders (or fingers) to be the greatest culinary innovation. I’m not the only person that grew up on them.

When given the option, I ate them. If I was at a restaurant, I looked for them on the menu. I had a rough list of the best chicken tenders from every place I’d eaten them. From Ohio to California to Canada, I did my own unintentional food tour of North America.

Sometimes, I still eat them to access those nostalgic memories.

As a kid, I enjoyed eating chicken McNuggets at McDonald’s or chicken tenders at Applebee’s. Chain restaurants and fast food joints were—and still are to some degree—my bread and butter. You could call that a Midwestern thing, or just a personal preference.

I remember being in Monterey, California as a kid. The restaurant didn’t have chicken tenders, but there was some kind of chicken drumstick. I wasn’t ready for that. Years later, I learned to appreciate bone-in chicken. Another time, I remember not eating at an Italian restaurant in hopes of somehow getting chicken tenders elsewhere. I didn’t end up getting my way and instead ate a bag of Cheez-Its. Not long after I started to drive, I drove an hour and a half to eat chicken tenders. These and other stories populated my younger life.

To this day, I’m known by some as the guy who ate chicken tenders. I don’t know if this speaks to my lackluster life since or the extreme degree to which I ate chicken tenders back in the day. I’m guessing there’s a healthy amount of both. There was another, much shorter era where I ate ribs, but that’s a story.

When you’re eating out, fast-food chicken and even many sit-down restaurants offer up a mixed bag. I go back and forth with the chicken quality at the Arches, the Big W, the King, etc. Cane’s is among the more consistent places selling chicken, and they’re closer to the nebulous fast-casual category (a minor step up from the baseline). This and years of frozen nuggets at home were among the few things I would eat. And don’t forget the fries. Lots and lots of fries. Can you eat them without fries? Yes, but why would you?

What do chicken tenders tell me about food, life, and America? They should be cheap. They have mass appeal. They get the job done even if they’re cold and lacking any real nutrition. They’re sold in many places, differ only slightly in quality, and prove to be reliable. They’re hard to mess up and easy on the palette. They’re the food we deserve when we’ve given up or need something quick and efficient. They don’t require much customization other than your choice of sauce. Barbecue, sweet & sour, honey mustard, ranch, ketchup, buffalo, etc. BBQ is the most consistent, but be careful at some restaurants because certain sauces can become too watery.

There are really two basic types of tenders. The stock, frozen model and the hand-breaded, rippled, real kind. Both have their place. One looks uniform on the outside and the other should be unique with each new piece.

Most “American” style restaurants have chicken tenders, or boneless wings at the very least. Boneless wings are somehow worse than chicken nuggets and should not be associated with chicken tenders, but I have to mention them as a possible substitute. Some pizza places have chicken tenders, but you’re better off getting bone-in wings from those places. In any case, you should take caution when you’re ordering chicken fingers from places that only have them on the appetizer menu.

As some kind of an adult, I eat them much less than I did. If the place is known for chicken tenders, I’ll indulge. If it’s a bar where everything is fried, I’ll go for them. There’s nothing to lose. Otherwise, I try not to order them as much. I will say that when in doubt, they’re hard to screw up. They’re much safer to eat in dingier places that make you want to order your burger “well done like a hockey puck.” If you’re worried about your stomach, a chicken finger will probably get you through the night. They’re also easy to eat on the road.

There has never been a better time to eat chicken tenders, but some of the options might seem murky.

More recently in Ohio, I visited the lesser known Layne’s and found how much it resembles Cane’s. The only major change between the two is the toast and the cut of the fries, but you can also get spicy tenders at Layne’s. Also, they rhyme? They couldn’t have made it more obvious (allegedly). These comparisons, in my opinion, deserve further litigation. With so much focus now on rising chains like Cane’s, I’ve been surprised how chicken tenders now power a major American chain. I do draw a distinction between fried chicken/chicken sandwich places and a specific/primary focus on tenders.

As I explore my next chapter in chicken tender consumption, I will never fully remove myself from the nostalgia. These days, I do prefer to eat actual chicken and not just frozen, chicken-esque bits. My standards and preferences have changed overall. I can now confirm, despite the previous several paragraphs, that I don’t need to always eat chicken fingers anymore.

To be continued…

Are you insane too?

If these questions speak to you, you’re in the right place.

In the David Bowie song “Changes,” I always wondered why the singer wrote “Time may change me, but you can’t trace time” as opposed to “Time can’t change me, but you can’t change time.” As a kid, I thought the latter was correct. When I finally realized what he was saying, I thought he missed an obvious reversal. Needless to say, he’s David Bowie and I’m not. This is among the more minor and trivial suggestions I’ll be mentioning.

“Go Your Own Way” by Fleetwood Mac has one of the better verses in rock music. Lindsey Buckingham was on fire during “Rumours” and this song is no less fiery. It’s rare that you love to hear the verse as much as the chorus, but in the case of this song I almost prefer the verse. You need that chorus, but it becomes an even better song when you can’t wait for either section. Instead of doing a third verse, Buckingham includes two guitar solos and an extended outro. It’s become so iconic that it’s hard to argue with what’s happened.

I have a similar complaint about “Baba O’Riley.” The Who’s anthem might be overplayed, but it still has a power underneath all the lyrical tropes. It’s another song that features a great chorus and verses. The ending violin section is nice, but it goes on for too long. If I’m hearing this song, I usually tune out at that point. Roger Daltrey’s performances on the verses were so good that the band should’ve let him go for one more.

On the Beatles song “Martha My Dear,” Paul McCartney writes one of his best 1:20 seconds of his career. It’s then interrupted by a horn section. The song gives a great build to the “take a good look around you” section, but it never returns to it. I commend him for keeping the song to 2:30 minutes, but I always wished that McCartney brought back that section for a second go-around.

By now you’re probably thinking, this guy is mainly complaining about extended outros, excessive choruses, or instrumental breaks. That’s all correct.

When I think of another one, I’ll add to my collection. Until then, feel free to offer up any suggestions about the songs you wish you could change.

The most famous song about the Cuyahoga River might be “Burn On” by Randy Newman. In the beginning of the sports film “Major League,” the camera finds different Cleveland landmarks as Newman’s piano chimes along.

For those that don’t know, the Cuyahoga River is the central waterway that connects Northeast Ohio to Lake Erie. It runs through Cleveland and it could be considered the dividing line between the Western and Eastern parts of the city. Many locals pronounce it “Ki-uh-Ho-guh.” To the south, the city of Cuyahoga Falls is sometimes abbreviated in speech as “C’oga (Caw-guh) Falls.” These are some of the quirks and pronunciations of the local population. As for the definitive way to say it, I’m not entirely sure.

The river’s most well-known and infamous chapter occurred in 1969. In June of that year, it caught fire. The event likely precipitated the founding of the Environmental Protection Agency, or at the very least it was the last straw. It also inspired writers like Randy Newman to sing about it.

He didn’t write the only song about the controversial waterway though.

On their fourth album, R.E.M. released a deeper cut called “Cuyahoga.” It’s one of several songs the band wrote that referenced the environment. On the same album “Lifes Rich Pageant,” the group released “Fall on Me” with similar themes. You can interpret either work as being connected to conservation, nature, and the bitter truths of American history.

“Cuyahoga” features a signature bass line from Mike Mills and some evocative lyrics from Michael Stipe. You can sense the hope in Stipe’s voice even if the intended outcome might never happen. It’s a much more laidback production, but one that’s full of some major high points like the chorus vocals.

It’s yet another song that fills out the amazing run R.E.M. had in the 1980s. Along with being a worthy song from the band, “Cuyahoga” also connects the band to Ohio in a bittersweet rock track.

How do you sum up the centennial of a comedy legend? Rather than write another appreciation post, I will include some of my favorite clips of the performer and a few lesser known gems. The clips largely speak for themselves and span his entire career. You’ll recognize many of them if you’re a fan, but hopefully you’ll spot a few that you’ve never seen before.

I tried to include clips with Mel as himself or in character. Since I often talk about music and film together, I’ve included many of his finest musical moments as well. If I were to include scenes from all of his movies and TV work, this would be a much longer list. Instead, I wanted a highlight a few high-quality snapshots of his professional life as told by the man himself.

Interview with Jiminy Glick

Impersonating Frank Sinatra

Sweet Georgia Brown in Polish

High Anxiety

Singing in WWII

The Inquisition

Accepting His Oscar & Thanking Gene Wilder

Going to Lunch with Cary Grant

Dining with Alfred Hitchcock

On Dick Cavett with Peter Bogdanavich, Robert Altman, and Frank Capra

The Governor in “Blazing Saddles”

What is your favorite moment from the 2,000 year old man?

What music best represents Ohio?

Generally speaking, there’s some invisible line that splits the Buckeye state into North and South. The horizontal line probably cuts the state in half at about Columbus (a loosely identified and generally accepted midpoint). You could take a look at each section of Ohio and examine its cultural roots and history. The results would likely give you some jumbled look at America. After all, the state lies at a literal and metaphorical crossroads. It is on the farthest, eastern edge of the Midwest. If you cross the Southern border at various points, you’re entering the beginnings of the South and Appalachia. When you head due east, you enter into the Mid-Atlantic region that seems as nebulous as the Midwest.

This is all to say the musical landscape remains divisive.

Historically, there are many rock and punk acts that came out of Northern Ohio. Akron had its own “sound” that grew out of the punk and post-punk era of the 1970s. Cleveland also produced a wide range artists ranging from the Dead Boys to Tracy Chapman to Bone Thugs-n-Harmony, along with being the home of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Radio stations like WMMS helped to endorse the album-oriented rock era of the 1970s, pushing bands like Rush into the mainstream. The mix of rock, punk, and hip-hop came to define this area as a musical melting pot.

But what’s going on with country music? If I leave the bubble of Northeast Ohio for a second, I have to acknowledge that a large contingent of Ohioans listen to country. Southern and rural Ohioans will likely contend that it’s an essential part of their listening habits.

Who is the best musician from Ohio? Or who is the best musician that represents Ohio? Both questions are near impossible to answer. So below, I will try to include a non-comprehensive list of musical acts from Ohio. Back during my early Substack days, I made a similar post about Ohio artists. I’ve included an updated and unranked list of artists that I feel like cover a wide cross-section of the state’s finest musical exports.

Below, I’ve included a starter list of the essential artists/acts/bands that were born, raised, and/or had formative years in the Buckeye State. Feel free to comment with the artists that didn’t make this list. This is an ever-growing compilation of people. For now, this is what I have.

Dean Martin

Bobby Womack

Tracy Chapman

Bone Thugs-n-Harmony

DEVO

Dead Boys

Pere Ubu

Chrissie Hynde (The Pretenders)

Benjamin Orr (The Cars)

Bootsy Collins

The Isley Brothers

James Gang

Maynard James Keenan (Tool)

Nine Inch Nails

Ohio Players

The O’Jays

Kim Deal

Eric Carmen

Lux Interior

The National

Screamin’ Jay Hawkins

Guided by Voices

The Black Keys

Michael Stanley

Dave Grohl

And so on and so forth…

There’s a lot of bias in this list. Even as I try to be semi-objective, I leave off many popular acts. There’s no Twenty One Pilots, Kid Cudi, or Machine Gun Kelly. None of those artists resonated with me in any meaningful way. I also didn’t include any country acts. There’s no David Allan Coe or Rascal Flatts, but country is my least favorite genre. Some of these bands only have one or two key members from Ohio, while other solo artists mentioned are actually associated with bands that weren’t physically formed in Ohio. I could pick it apart from any number of angles.

Does the list of Ohio artists include people I don’t like? It probably should. I’ve been making lists for a while, but the problem with lists is that they can be bent to your will. No list is exactly the same and no criteria is final.

As I learn more about the history of Buckeye State music, I’ll revisit this list.

Do you have any Ohio artists that you feel best represent the state, for better or worse?

Is this the best Roger Moore film? No.

Is this your favorite Bond fan’s favorite Bond movie? Probably not.

Is it the hidden gem of the franchise? Maybe.

Does anybody like it? Sort of…

Even though the film series is internationally known, several of the movies have become somewhat obscure outside of their initial release window. Ask somebody what their favorite James Bond movie is and you might get a few different answers.

For most casual film goers, they'll refer to a Bond movie as “the one where Sean Connery is scuba diving” or “the one with the invisible car.” Who can blame them? After all, there are 25 movies to remember. One movie that I rarely hear about outside of diehard fan discussions is “For Your Eyes Only.” It was released in 1981 and was the first Bond movie of that respective decade. You’d think it would be a good representation of what was to come, but it wasn’t. Herein lies the conundrum. It was almost immediately forgotten as a blip in between Roger Moore’s more absurd films.

Here’s a quick recap of Roger Moore’s tenure as James Bond up to that point.

“Live and Let Die” (1973) - Known for its theme song, voodoo storyline, U.S. and Caribbean locations, a fun boat chase, questionable racial politics, Moore has some charm and is a little mean in this one. Generally considered to be a solid entry, if not better.

“The Man with the Golden Gun” (1974) - Christopher Lee is a hitman that wants to test himself by having Bond come to his private island. Roger Moore is even more evil in this one. There’s a side plot about an energy crisis. Generally considered to be among the weakest entries in the entire series.

“The Spy Who Loved Me” (1977) - Great stunts, entertaining story where boats are hijacked, the first movie with henchman Jaws. Generally considered to be Moore’s best entry and among the best Bond films.

“Moonraker” (1979) - Bond goes to space and jumps the shark. Successful, but generally considered among the silliest/worst entries.

By sending Bond to space, the filmmakers cornered themselves. Where do you go after zero gravity? The people in charge figured out a way to bring the hero back down to earth. “For Your Eyes Only” is their attempt to give Bond a little more believability. The results proved relatively successful, but the movie didn’t have much staying power among so many other 007 entries.

As I continued to look back at the series, I felt compelled to dig into this particular entry and reflect on a movie that that’s been forgotten. The movie opens with a nod to Bond’s past. While the character largely resets after every movie, some loose threads and character details pop-up throughout the franchise. This time around, Bond visits his wife’s grave. It’s a nod to former film “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service,” the movie where he gets married. This somber scene is quickly transformed by a helicopter stunt. As a microcosm of this film, this sequence trades any semblance of a serious tone for something more fantastical.

The opening ten minutes represent the main and recurring flaw of the film. Does this Bond film want to be serious or have fun? Moore’s tenure included more outlandish plots and some of the cheesiest lines in the series. Bond ends the opening scene by dropping a bald man down a chimney. If that interests you, please stop reading and find a copy of this film to watch for yourself.

FYEO might’ve been lost to time because it zags from the formula, or because it can’t decide what to do with Moore’s Bond. Moore fans were accustomed to the over-the-top plots and Connery fans likely checked out by then. You then get a movie that pleases fewer and fewer people.

After the credits, the film sets up a classic MacGuffin plot. A piece of important military equipment goes missing. Both the British and the Russians want it. James Bond is sent to find it, while also running into a crossbow-wielding woman with her own revenge plot. Melina Havelock is Bond’s main ally hoping to find the people that killed her parents. They travel around the Mediterranean and into the Alps, with some beautiful locations powering many worthy action sequences. The villain is played by “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade” actor Julian Glover. He has a couple henchmen that are easy to forget, including an Olympic biathlon athlete. Giving the film some comic relief and heart, Topol from “Fiddler on the Roof” plays Bond’s smuggler ally.

The basic plot is reminiscent of old Bond films or even Hitchcock, giving you a serviceable spy story for two hours. Is that enough to warrant a viewing? I think so, but the casual viewers will likely be bored. Over the last few years, I rewatched the film several times to see if I’d been missing something. What I found was a decent idea with mixed execution.

If you decide to watch, you can chalk it up to a travelogue. You can tour Europe, drive through Greece, watch people ski, and then watch Bond climb a mountain. The second-unit direction is superb as stunt performers like Rick Sylvester give the movie some of its finest moments. Bond must scale the side of a cliff, but then his rope gives way. The wide shot follows Sylvester as he catches himself after a nerve-wracking freefall. That’s the main reason you should watch this kind of film anyway.

As for the actors, you can watch Roger Moore attempt a more complicated turn as Bond. The script isn’t pushing boundaries, but the star is so relaxed into the role that you can’t help but salute him. He’s also given one or two scenes where he contemplates a more cold-blood version of 007. It’s an interesting idea, but it never pays off and Moore’s Bond falls back into his old habits in the next two entries.

The film contains two clear downsides in my opinion. One is an extended underwater diving sequence, grinding the film to a halt as almost all underwater diving sequences do. There’s also a comedic epilogue featuring a Margaret Thatcher impersonator. For that, the movie nearly squanders any good will it built up.

So why do I find it interesting enough to discuss in this post? I think it’s ultimately a rare glimpse into a more grounded Bond during an era of excess. Moore had two more after this one, but he’d never again get the chance to try something semi-serious. His follow-ups “Octopussy” and “A View to a Kill” are either beloved or hated depending on who you ask. They feature globe-trotting plots with crazed villains, forcing Moore’s Bond into increasingly embarrassing situations. The third actor to play Bond only really had one real chance to try something more human.

“For Your Eyes Only” is an imperfect return to the early Connery years, but it does present viewers with enough entertainment to justify its existence.

What is the movie that best represents the Buckeye State? I’ve decided that “most” gives me some leeway while “best” makes it sounds more official. To clarify, the selected film might not be the highest quality piece of cinema.

The following candidates focus on Ohio-set or Ohio-centric films? These are movies that either take place in Ohio, were filmed in Ohio, and/or feature the state as a significant part of its plot. Some of these films were actually shot in Ohio and others were filmed elsewhere. Some might be classic films in their own right, while others might just be a great beacon of Ohio culture. Certain rule-breaking exemptions will likely be made on a case-by-case basis.

You’ll also notice that I have a bias towards the Northern part of the state, which I’m going to openly acknowledge before I go any further. Plenty of fine movies were filmed in central and southern Ohio as well.

The rules and results are all subject to my own opinion. I’ve narrowed down a list of 10 nominees to pick from. There can only be one winner, but I wanted to acknowledge the variety of Ohio films I’m choosing from.

Here are my nominees....

Draft Day

Ok, I actually picked eleven and this one doesn’t really count. Is this movie good? Why did I include this film on the list? I figured it should be acknowledged that Browns fandom permeates much of the Northern section of the state. It’s essentially the Ohio-sports equivalent of the fog of war. This movie isn’t at the level of Major League, but it does make an attempt to capture one angle of Browns football insanity. I can’t believe they made a movie about the NFL draft.

Here are the real nominees…

Major League

The sports movie that Cleveland fans deserve. It encompasses the losing streaks, questionable ownership, working-class pride, and the dreams of someday going all the way. This comedy tracks a misfit crew of baseball players with dreams of a pennant chase. It might seem like wish fulfillment for many locals, but it also has a heart to it underneath the jokes. As a kid, I always assumed this was just a movie for Cleveland sports fans and nobody else. It’s a solid movie that does what it sets out to do.

Take Shelter

Michael Shannon plays a smalltown Ohio man that has visions of the end times. As his family and professional life deteriorates, he holds firm in his belief that it’s all real. Shannon gives perhaps his best performance as the main character, holding everything back until his character bursts in the film’s best scene. The movie is set in LaGrange, Ohio. It’s an underrated drama with sci-fi elements.

The Deer Hunter

Is this really an Ohio movie? Technically, yes. It was set in Pennsylvania, but several sequences were filmed in and around Cleveland. Most notably, most of the first act was filmed in Ohio (excluding the hunting scenes). The movie does a great job of nailing down the Rustbelt/factory town atmosphere. I could spend all day covering the nuances of Western Pennsylvania vs. Northeast Ohio, but that’s for someone else to write. This is probably the most prestigious Oscar-winner on the film (save for one other option). Some critics have become mixed on it over the years, but I still consider it to be a worthy epic from that era.

A Christmas Story

If you live in Northeast Ohio, you can’t escape the knowledge that “A Christmas Story” was filmed there. They’ve even turned the home into a tourist attraction. This holiday classic also includes shots of Public Square in Cleveland among other area touchstones. The movie does include a clever script filled with sharp narration. Even after decades of Christmas-marathon viewing, this comedy still works as a holiday classic.

American Splendor

Writer Harvey Pekar wrote autobiographical comics and became a local legend. This film includes the real man as the narrator of his own life. Mixing reality and fiction, this comedy has one of Paul Giamatti’s finest performances as Pekar. It tackles underground comics, Cleveland history, and the story of cult figure and his friends.

The Shawshank Redemption

Filmed in Mansfield at a real prison, this is among the most beloved films from the 1990s. There’s much more to be said about it at this point. Home video and cable helped make this a sleeper classic, making use of its vintage setting some beautiful exterior shots of the Ohio State Reformatory. I visited several years back and found it to be an impressive location regardless of the movie. Few movies showcase that part of Ohio, with Roger Deakins’ cinematography doing it justice.

Heathers

You might not remember this film took place at an Ohio high school. Subverting high school movies in a decade full of them, Heathers might be the meanest and funniest rebuttal to the John Hughes generation.

One Potato, Two Potato

This might be the most obscure film on this list, but I wanted to point it out. It’s an independent drama from the 1960s set in Painesville, Ohio. The film follows a mixed race couple and their attempt to live despite the pressures of the day. I’d call this the more gritty and realistic version of “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner,” but that wouldn’t be doing it justice. It’s a hidden gem.

Rain Man

I have to acknowledge a film that’s set in Cincinnati. While this road movie spans different states, it does happen to spend some time in southern Ohio and Kentucky. When I think of “Rain Man,” I think of the road sequences, the diner, or Las Vegas. I’m sure someone in southern Ohio thinks otherwise, but I never really considered this one as being much of an Ohio film. This might be an oversight on my part. However, I did acknowledge at least one film set in the south.

The Fortune Cookie

It’s not the Billy Wilder movie that’s best remembered, but it deserves a reappraisal. Jack Lemmon plays a cameraman that’s hit by a Cleveland Browns player on the sideline. Walter Matthau is the opportunistic lawyer hoping to make a case out of the incident. In one of his underrated films, Wilder lets both men play up their screen personas. Matthau won an Oscar for his performance, surviving a heart attack while on set.

And the winner of my Ohio film contest is…

Against my better judgement, I might actually pick “Major League.” “The Shawshank Redemption,” “The Deer Hunter,” and “American Splendor” are all technically better films. On another day, I’d pick any one of them to beat “Major League.” Even as I write this, I’m wondering if I should’ve picked “Splendor.”

When I reconsider the “most” concept, I figure that the baseball movie captures the culture of Ohio, the importance of sports, the underdog spirit, and the general mentality of the region. It also feels like one of a handful of films to examine the heartbeat of Cleveland specifically. There’s a ragtag quality that’s charming and inviting. Ultimately, nostalgia wins.

I would argue that David Letterman’s late-night career had the best music. Paul Shaffer and the World’s Most Dangerous Band were one thing, but there was also a steady stream of important musical performances from great bands and singers alike.

There are many music moments from both “Late Night” and “Late Show” that could fill up any number of lists. While I wasn’t alive for the NBC show, I did come to watch many musical performances on YouTube. The same could be said for its CBS sequel (which took place in the Ed Sullivan Theater). Whoever handled the sound was certainly a master at their craft.

This is a short, grab bag that includes a few personal favorites and some other oddities. You won’t find the typical entries below, but maybe you’ve seen a few of them before.

Back when I started listening to 80s and 90s alt rock, I saw the following Pixies performances. The first finds the group playing with Paul Shaffer’s band. One detail I’ve noticed from the “Late Night” days is that Shaffer’s musicians often played along with and/or replaced members of the guest band. Some people have speculated that this might be due to a union or contractual rule of some kind, but I’m not entirely sure.

“Trompe Le Monde” - Pixies

Paul Shaffer’s solo choice turns this into a bizarre mix. It still retains some of its initial power though thanks to the Pixies band members that are still allowed to play.

“Monkey Gone to Heaven” - Pixies

The Pixies later played on “Late Show” after they reunited. Paul Shaffer gave the band some backup once again, but he let the solo go to guitarist Joey Santiago that time.

“Radio Free Europe” - R.E.M.

An early R.E.M. plays two songs. Notably, singer Michael Stipe avoids the Q&A portion in between the music. He leaves that job to bassist Mike Mills and guitarist Peter Buck.

“Sabotage” - Beastie Boys

Every once and a while, I see this clip go around again. The band brings an energy that you don’t often see on late night or really any place else.

“Misery” - Soul Asylum

I never completely bought into Soul Asylum beyond “Runaway Train.” This appearance does include a moment that makes me reconsider them as a band. At the end of this performance, the singer Dave Pirner breaks out a trumpet and plays “Silly Love Songs” before Paul Shaffer stops him.

“Copperline” - James Taylor

This performance is relatively simple, but done especially well by Taylor and his fellow musicians. Letterman also shouts out the various players once Taylor sits down.

“Taken for a Fool” - The Strokes

Singer Julian Casablancas looks tense in an appearance that may or may not include mistakes. There’s been conjecture about whether drummer Fabrizio Moretti or Casablancas himself is to blame. Letterman tries to settle things with his closing comments.

There’s also this exchange between Paul and Dave about paying to play Eagles music. The conversation includes some behind-the-scenes talk about music licensing and the 70s rock band. You get to watch various “Late Show” employees discuss the pros and cons of spending lots of money for a one-off joke.

“Political Science” - Randy Newman

Randy Newman performs both his hit “I Love L.A.” and the evergreen “Political Science.”

On a special episode of the “Late Show,” the host welcomed a terminally-ill Warren Zevon to discuss life and music. His advice to “enjoy every sandwich” is just one piece of wisdom from their chat.

Many singers and musicians graced the stage (and couch). What are some of your favorites from over the years?

I remember the yellow VHS, but I don’t remember seeing the full movie until I was a teenager. By that time, I think I watched a Blu-ray copy. In the 2010s, I was even more removed from the years depicted in this film. This didn’t stop me from taking notice of the filmmaking on display.

Taking viewers back to 1962, “American Graffiti” captures one final night of freedom for four teenagers. Two consider college while two others test their luck staying in their old town. As dawn approaches, the quartet have all reconsidered their future and sealed their fates.

George Lucas was taking a chance with his second film. Produced by Francis Ford Coppola, the film took a nostalgic look at Lucas’ youth in Modesto, California. He then cast a group of young actors that were on the cusp of stardom. While it might’ve seemed like light entertainment on paper, it became much more influential over time. The result was also a massive success at the box office.

One key feature of the movie is the soundtrack. With 50s and 60s hits throughout the film, many notable songs play underneath the characters cruising around town. The voice of Wolfman Jack also serves as an unofficial narrator for the movie. If you look for the album, you’ll find one entitled “41 Original Hits from the Soundtrack of American Graffiti.”

The film captures the end of an era in more ways than one. You could argue that it also explores the last moments of music before the British Invasion, folk rock, and then Woodstock changed everything. Not everybody in the film is ready for the coming decade either. As John’s character notes in the movie, “rock and roll’s been going down hill ever since Buddy Holly died.” For somebody that didn’t love surf rock, I can’t imagine him liking rock ten or even five years later.

According to a documentary about the film, sound editor Walter Murch considers “American Graffiti” to be a pioneering film in terms of a “wall-to-wall” soundtrack. George Lucas said that he wrote the screenplay with specific songs in mind for key scenes. Before blockbusters made needle drops commonplace, this movie featured copious amounts of licensed music to help tell its story. You could count films like “Easy Rider” and “Mean Streets” as other influential steps towards the modern use of music in cinema.

Here are a few select music moments that encapsulate the film’s glimpse into the sounds of the late 50s and early 60s. Every step of the way, George Lucas captures the time period with a slew of hits. The rich ensemble and the almost documentary-style filmmaking also helped.

To start things off, the movie uses “Rock Around the Clock” by Bill Haley & His Comets. It plays over footage of Mel’s Drive-In, the hang out spot for the main crew. It’s one of the most indelible singles of that era. Not only is it synonymous with early rock and roll, but it later served as a theme song for other nostalgic vehicles like “Happy Days.”

After their sunset meeting, Curt, Steve, Terry, and John all head out and begin their final march from childhood to early adulthood. Their night includes listening to various songs like “Surfin’ Safari,” “Why Do Fools Fall in Love,” “That’ll Be the Day,” and “Runaway.” The latter Del Shannon tune is one notable track during the cruising segments. It was one that I didn’t initially recognize when I first saw the film. I’d count it among the records that deserve mention alongside the more well-known classics.

In a movie full of different character journeys and side plots, one storyline follows class president Steve and his girlfriend Laurie. They travel to the high school dance where their bickering ends with a slow dance set to “Smoke Gets In Your Eyes” by The Platters. This remains one of the more emotional moments, expertly utilizing this ballad to underscore the tragic romance on display.

As Bob and John prepare to drag race, the cars drive to the outskirts of town to the sounds of Booker T. & the M.G.’s single “Green Onions.” It’s a successful instrumental by an elite group of musicians. Several members were among the most accomplished players in the blues and R&B genre (a few later appeared in the Blues Brothers band). The track sets the mood for a showdown that turns out much differently than anyone expects.

As Curt flies away to college, he watches the world below while the movie prepares for its final gut punch. Lucas makes one of his boldest decisions in choosing to reveal what happens to the main characters in the epilogue. Not long after, the credits kick off with “All Summer Long” by The Beach Boys. It’s a sudden jolt back to reality after the filmmaker gives you some startling facts. The juxtaposition seems to represent a brief glimpse into the future, while also pushing back against an innocent time. Viewers (including myself) might’ve preferred to just watch Curt fly away, but subsequent viewings have started to change my mind.

“All Summer Long” is also one of the few songs from the soundtrack that the character’s couldn’t hear on the radio. It was released two years after the film is set. This seems like another hint about the upcoming changes in music. The film begins with “Rock Around the Clock” (1954) and ends with “All Summer Long” (1964). One was released in the Eisenhower years and the latter after Kennedy’s death. In that span of time, pop and rock music completely changed. And it was only the beginning…

“American Graffiti” does help me appreciate the pop culture and music of the Kennedy years. While I prefer what came after, this time period does have plenty of gems (many of which are included on this soundtrack).

Just before Covid, I remember visiting a Mel’s Diner filled with references and pictures from the movie. It might’ve been a world away from the one depicted on screen, but I found it to be a fun, full-circle moment. The movie still stands as a brilliant time capsule regardless of any other media or commercialism that it spawned.

It’s a hangout movie that likely inspired countless coming of age films. It might also be my favorite George Lucas project.

It’s 2026 and another slate of nominees for the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame are out. Who will make it into the prestigious hall? What arguments await as the definitions of rock provoke intense debate? How many metal and hard rock fans will be unhappy by the results? Do I have to read another diatribe about the inclusion of pop and hip-hop in the hall?

Looking back over the decades, I see worthy entries and a few questionable ones. Some people can’t get past the fact that they’ve widened the definition of rock and roll. I personally understand it, but also acknowledge that they cornered themselves. Does this make it the most pure, objective hall of fame ever? No. Is there such a thing? Also no.

Many angry rock aficionados dish out their yearly take down of the hall. As much as I’d like to spend this entire post going after those people, I have to occasionally agree with them. They’re operating under the assumption that the hall is honoring all things “rock” in its classic definition. This might’ve been the case once upon a midnight dreary. Nowadays, it’s more of a music hall of fame. I made peace with that many years ago, but others will never let it go.

Growing up not too far from Cleveland, I have some local pride about the hall. This bias made me want to defend it as a young rock fan. I recognize its imperfections and contradictions. Deep down, I feel like it’s one of many ways that music history should be celebrated and preserved. It might not always follow through on that idea, but it’s better than nothing. Still though, it’s a cool place to spend an afternoon.

As for the nominating committee and induction ceremonies, your mileage may vary. There’s always going to be somebody that’s left out. I don’t personally have any stake in a band like Jethro Tull, but they’ve been mentioned many times over the years as one of a hundred bands left off the list.

Sex Pistols famously laughed off their inclusion with a letter. Others like Todd Rundgren swore off the place and didn’t show up. Members of Kiss, Iron Maiden, and other acts have criticized the organization, induction process, and overall business practices of the hall. At his induction ceremony, Steve Miller ranted backstage and sang Nat King Cole.

In terms of who gets in and when, you have to go back to the beginning. The first class was inducted in 1986 and it includes many formative, influential, and worthy musicians. Some are early rock and roll, blues, R&B, or folk artists. The main problem the hall came up against was how many people do they let in and who gets priority.

In some cases, it felt like previous years allowed for people such as John Mellencamp to induct their nostalgic favorites like The Lovin’ Spoonful. The latter was inducted in 2000 as other bands with more rabid fanbases were ignored.

In the 2000s, the hall clearly wanted to expand their criteria. Their exhibits hinted at the far-reaching influence of rock and the multitude of genres in its general orbit. Rap and pop music were arguably two of the most referenced genres in the museum itself, making for an obvious pathway into the future. I remember visiting as a kid and walking through a section devoted to hip-hop icons that hadn’t been inducted. Things have now changed to give these artists their due.

Having gone back over some of the induction ceremony videos, I’d like to offer up a few favorite moments from over the years. Some have become the topic of discussion and ridicule. Watch them below and decide for yourself.

There’s the Beach Boys induction which includes an industry tirade from everyone’s least favorite member Mike Love.

As comedian John Mulaney once pointed out, the induction ceremonies became a place for old resentments to bubble up once more. This also inspires some great callbacks from Bob Dylan, who references Mike Love’s above speech.

There’s also people that went long overlooked like Randy Newman. His satirical and witty point-of-view inspired a worthy speech.

With Randy’s words acknowledging the Eagles, it’s only fitting that I also show you the clip of the country rock band accepting their award. The band has always been known for their in-fighting and litigious nature. Their speech is full of many ups and downs, but the highlight might be Joe Walsh’s suit.

Steely Dan spent part of their truncated speech asking the audience rock trivia questions. Also, I have no idea how Moby got to be the one to induct them. I can only imagine what Jann Wenner was thinking when he saw the two pranksters Donald Fagen and Walter Becker poke fun at the evening.

They weren’t the only ones to subvert the induction speech either, with Dee Dee Ramone giving himself a self-congratulatory shoutout.

And I can’t forget Eddie Vedder’s introduction to Neil Young. He includes a jab at Ticketmaster which Pearl Jam spent part of the 90s fighting against. With any luck, a modern artist will resume the fight against that company.

Beyond the funnier aspects of the ceremony, there’s always a chance to honor a truly deserving artist like Leon Russell. Elton John gave a detailed account of his love for the singer/songwriter in his induction notes. When Leon took the stage, he gave a heartfelt speech and thanked Elton for his kindness. In its best moments, the induction ceremony can be a place for a genuine tribute.

Here’s hoping that whoever makes it into the hall for 2026 includes a few pointed jabs at their enemies or gets the proper tribute they always deserved. I’m looking at you Phil Collins, you’ve got nothing more to prove and nothing else to lose.

To put things mildly, the hall has a long, strange history. I’m here for all of it. The annual fights. The occasional visit. The existential dread. The ongoing examination of pop culture and music history.

Willard Van Orman Quine was born in Akron, Ohio in 1908. The philosopher had an iconoclastic career that included works such as “Two Dogmas of Empiricism.” If I believe everything I read, I am to understand that he had revolutionary ideas about analytic philosophy. This piece is not about him, but it is about his nephew Robert.

Robert was born in Akron in 1942. His life went in a much different direction than his uncle’s, but it did make an impact. While he’s not always mentioned among the pantheon of great guitarists, he did carve out his own corner of the music world.

I first discovered him after finding this live concert on YouTube…

This Lou Reed show from 1984 finds the former Velvet Underground singer at a crossroads. He’s both acknowledging his past in VU and advancing his chaotic solo career. Behind him stands a bald man with sunglasses. He’s a mysterious figure on stage, but one that’s contributed to more music than I realized. The comments pointed out Quine by name, saluting him for his playing abilities and his reputation as a guitarist.

Robert Quine trained to be a lawyer, but his lifelong passion for music sent him in another direction. Quine honed his musical tastes with a mix of early rock and jazz. He cited his influences from John Coltrane and Miles Davis to Link Wray and Iggy Pop. His personal recordings of The Velvet Underground captured the latter band on tour in the late 1960s. The same recordings were later given their own release.

The Velvet Underground was perhaps the most consequential influence in Quine’s life. Years later, Quine came to know Lou Reed all too well.

Robert Quine eventually found himself in New York after stays in St. Louis and San Francisco. Odd jobs and travels seemed to make him reconsider his childhood fascination with the guitar. Working at a bookstore in the Big Apple, he came to know a few important figures in the 1970s New York punk scene like Richard Hell. The two struck up a professional partnership that became the band Richard Hell & the Voidoids. Their most famous work was the album “Blank Generation.” On the title song, you can hear Quine’s guitar on two notable solos.

His style could be considered as angry, frenetic, raw, or even showing signs of experimental jazz. His time with the Voidoids didn’t last very long though. By the start of the 1980s, he was looking elsewhere for work in an unforgiving business.

As fate would have it, he linked up with one of his icons. Lou Reed brought him along for “The Blue Mask” album. This was arguably his greatest achievement. You can hear some of Quine’s best work on songs like “Waves of Fear.”

Hearing this album, I would’ve hoped that Quine played more with Reed. The actual partnership only lasted about four years. It sounds like Quine could be every bit as stubborn as somebody like the “Perfect Day” singer. Reed was known to be difficult, but even this golden opportunity wasn’t worth the headache. The two butted heads and the atmosphere seemed tense. If you read interviews with Quine, he makes it pretty clear that this period was full of promise and then reality set in. His idol, one of the kings of alternative, was not going to budge. While Quine recorded on the “Legendary Hearts” album, it wasn’t the same. The guitarist could barely hear himself in the final mix. The touring also started to wear him down. In the mid-1980s, Quine once again found himself on his own.

Shifting gears completely, Quine became a veteran in the studio. This led him to record for people like John Zorn, Marianne Faithful, and Scritti Politti. His catalog of session gigs will likely impress and surprise you like it did me. If you enjoy “Rain Dogs” by Tom Waits, listen for Quine on the song “Downtown Train.”

By the end of the 1980s, he linked up with Matthew Sweet for a run of impressive albums. It seems like fate that he ended up on some of the same Sweet records as Television guitarist Richard Lloyd. Both men came out of the punk scene in the 1970s, later becoming session guitarists for Gen X artists. It might not have been the career they imagined, but it did afford them opportunities to collaborate with a new generations of artists.

Quine’s work on albums like Sweet’s “Girlfriend” deserve a special shoutout, but he also spent the same decade working with other eclectic artists like Brian Eno and They Might Be Giants. It’s unfortunate that he didn’t have the same luck in the 2000s.

I was shocked to see that Quine only made it to 61. In 2004, he reportedly ended his own life. He could’ve easily been a footnote in music history, but he’s become something of a mythic figure in his own right. Richard Hell hinted at Quine’s potential contradictions in a tribute to his former bandmate. He was some mix between funny, sad, angry, and creative. He loved jazz and played punk music. As many have pointed out, he has the look of a more straitlaced guy rather than somebody that played with Hell or Lou Reed.

This is, after all, a brief glimpse into this man’s career. He played with more artists, was inspired by more people, and encompassed a musicality that I’m unable to properly describe. I recommend that all interested parties go listen to a song or an album that features this man’s work.

I keep reminding myself of one thing. He was almost a lawyer, but he became a rockstar. This choice might encapsulate his entire persona. He couldn’t quite go through with a normal life, instead choosing to follow his heroes into the unknown.

Northeast Ohio is loosely comprised of a Rust Belt triangle formed at three points by Cleveland, Akron, and Youngstown. The latter rests in Trumbull County on the Pennsylvania border. Not quite halfway between Cleveland and Pittsburgh, you’ll find plenty of Steelers fans there. Youngstown was once powered by factories and steel production. In 1977, Youngstown Sheet and Tube Company closed and the city changed forever.

Last year, I drove to a town just north of Youngstown named Girard. A YouTube video caught my attention and led me to one of my new favorite places to visit in the entire region. A hidden gem that proves you should never judge a book by its cover.

Driving down one of Girard’s main streets, you get a good sense of the Midwestern small town. You see small shops, restaurants, and fast-food chains. A local institution known as Jib Jab Hot Dogs. It’s a modest place that’s hiding one of the coolest arcades in the country.

Past Times is an arcade and a museum. Formerly a grocery store, the interior houses a massive collection of pinball machines. These range from mid-20th century gems to recent licensed games. They also have classic arcade games like Pac-Man, Centipede, and NBA Jam as well as personal favorites such as Smash TV. There’s also racing wheels, shooting galleries, fighting games, and more. Think of a classic arcade and double, or triple, the size of its inventory.

There are over 600 games available to play. This also includes imported games from Europe, with obscure pieces like Spanish and Italian pinball machines. You can trace the history of pinball back through the decades and witness the difference in flippers, lights, and other mechanical elements.

The owner Rob Berk opened Past Times Arcade in 2023. He holds the Guinness World Record for the largest pinball collection. With so many machines at his disposal, he decided to turn it into something the public could enjoy. His passion for gaming lives and breathes in this glowing palace.

After a few hours, you’ll probably need to sit down. It’s something of an overwhelmingly experience given the number of lights and noises on full blast. I’d recommend taking a break at about two hours and then jumping back in with a few specific machines in mind. The day pass is $20 and you can come and go as you please. By the end, you’ll smell like vintage electronics and snack bar food (in a good way).

Most arcades are gone. The rise of barcades brought back the concept for adults, but you’re usually contending with limited space and reduced options. You mostly find a stray pinball machine or a Ms. Pac-Man/Galaga double cabinet. “Past Times” harkens back to another era, giving people of all different ages and gaming interests something to enjoy. I was caught off guard by the number of choices at my fingertips.

For anyone finding themselves near Northeast Ohio or Western Pennsylvania, I highly recommend you venture to Past Times. There’s enough machines to keep you interested for at least one full day (if not a week).

If you ever go there, you should try to play at least one of the games listed below:

Revolution X - Use machine guns and CDs to help save Aerosmith and fight off armed soldiers.

Michael Jackson’s Moonwalker - A beat ‘em up where you play as Jackson and defeat enemies with dance moves.

Joust pinball - Two people can play pinball directly against each other. One set of flippers and buttons at each end. It takes two player to another level.

Baby Pac-Man - A Pac-Man game turns into pinball when you exit the maze. A true combination of classic arcade and pinball.

There’s also an endless array of pinball machines with incredible names like “Palooka,” “The Wiggler,” and the famous Elton John-themed “Captain Fantastic.”

Support your local arcade.

If you had a favorite arcade or arcade game growing up, feel free to share it below.

Before we go any further, I’m admittedly a YouTube addict. One of my favorite subgenres is vintage interviews from shows like “The Dick Cavett Show,” “Late Night with David Letterman,” and “Later with Bob Costas.” The latter program kept popping up in my recommended videos. Not only that, most of the clips were from the same channel called “Cleveland Live Music.” A town where I went to college and one that I consider something of a second home. As it turns out, the man behind the channel was a fellow Northeast Ohio native.

This was my first introduction to Ken Dixon. I’ve since learned that he possesses a treasure trove of media artifacts.

As a year or two went by, I kept seeing videos from “Cleveland Live Music” show up on my YouTube feed. They often included clips from programs I’d never seen before. Some are one-of-a-kind recordings of concerts and interviews. In many cases, they’re the only readily available version of said event on the internet.

Going out on a limb, I decided to contact Ken and see if he’d like to chat about his life, channel, and Ohio. He was gracious enough to accept the offer. What follows is a tribute to pop-culture history and those that keep it alive.

Ken is a self-described “taper.” He’s been recording one form of media or another for most of his life. This includes cycling through generations of video and audio recording equipment. His current tape collection numbers into the thousands. For most of his life, he’s been recording everything from local radio to live concerts.

He’s traveled the world, seen plenty of live shows, spoken to famous musicians, and exchanged tapes with fellow tapers around the country. This is just a small fraction of his life as an avid consumer and collector.

“What started me taping was recording the radio,” he said.

As early as 11 or 12, Ken taped radio broadcasts. Some of his favorites included Pete Franklin’s show on Cleveland AM radio. Franklin was an integral part of Cleveland radio and sports history. Ken came of age in an era where stations like WWWE (now WTAM) and WMMS still ruled the region. During this time, the young Ken started capturing the world around him.

Back in the 70s, he also took an interest in recording live music. One notable memory comes from an Alice Cooper concert in 1978. Trekking out to the Richfield Coliseum, he brought along his cassette deck to tape the “School’s Out” singer. He later went to College of Wooster and met other avid music fans, learning some new recording tricks from Deadheads. Ken’s love of music and taping continued as a hobby long after his college days.

After becoming a salesman, Ken traveled around the world and always found time to see incredible artists along the way. This included time in Canada, all over Europe, and beyond. During his off-hours, Ken would visit record stores or go to see bands play. One of those bands was R.E.M. Along the way, he taped several of their shows for his own collection. Ken eventually got to know the guitarist Peter Buck after a meeting backstage. When the former mentioned his recordings, Buck didn’t tell Ken to stop recording the shows. The rocker just wanted an extra copy.

Among his many favorites in music, Ken might love Bob Dylan the most. Ken even got to talk to one of his heroes on the radio. Calling into the program “Rockline,” Ken was able to chat with Dylan and even make the folk icon laugh. It’s one of a long list of highlights from a busy life of music fandom and media preservation.

Speaking of preserving, Ken’s collection has been sought after for its rarity on several occasions. A variety of important people and organizations have contacted him about his recordings. In the case of “Later with Bob Costas,” Ken’s uploads have garnered praise from talk show hosts themselves. Costas personally commended the man for saving and uploading old episodes of the program on YouTube. Without people like Ken, many of these memories would be lost to time.

Hearing about his love for music, history, and Ohio, I asked Ken for one of his most beloved artists from the Buckeye State. He named the late guitarist Peter Laughner. Punk historians know the name, but not everybody outside of the Cleveland area may recognize him. He was an integral part of the city’s punk scene in the 1970s as a member of Rocket from the Tombs and Pere Ubu.

Ken’s mentioning of Laughner took me down another rabbit hole of exploring more Ohio music. In the past year, I listened to the Soul Jazz Records compilation “Burn Rubber City, Burn!” featuring members of the Akron Sound movement. I wanted to listen to more Cleveland bands and this gave me a chance to dive back into Ohio music history. For anyone willing to take the plunge, the work of Pere Ubu will more than satisfy your punk and alternative rock sensibilities.

Speaking of Ohio bands, Ken also championed some of them with his own label. Maia Records started in 1993 as a way to help Cleveland bands like The Janglers release their material. In the 90s, Maia also put out work by acts like former Long Ryders’ member Tom Stevens. It was yet another example of Ken’s dedication to music as an active presence behind-the-scenes.

As for his ventures into the business side of music, his motivations were clear. “It was never about making money… it was about having the bands grow,” he said.

From 1988 to 1990, Ken also had his own public access show in Cleveland called “Eye See Music.” It became another outlet for his interest in music. When bands and other artists came to Cleveland, Ken would often reach out to see if he could record the group’s live performances and/or conduct an interview. These and other tapes made their way onto the time slot. It was another chance for him to formally test out his skills. You can find clips of the show on his channel.

These days, Ken doesn’t just relive the past. He also walks dogs and makes videos at his other YouTube channel Holder The Weimaraner & His Dogwalker. There you can find him journeying around town with the title canine. When he’s not caring for animals, Ken still works his way through his huge collection piece by piece. It’s a long process of digitizing and uploading videos onto his main channel, but one that he still seems dedicated to maintaining.

I can’t do justice to Ken’s entire life or the depth of his collection, but I can recommend that you explore his channel for yourself. Any avid YouTubers, music fans, or pop-culture historians can find something there to strike their curiosity.

As the title suggests, this is one of my favorite films.

Going into the weekend of Jan 23rd-Jan 25th, I figured I’d try to watch “Zodiac” again. I heard that “The Rewatchables” podcast was going to cover the film the following week. It was another excuse to watch a good movie. The weekend took a turn and my attention went to Minnesota.

We all have a fascination with death, murder, and the media that covers it. “Zodiac” examines both the real-life implications of tragic events and the people obsessed by them. You follow both amateur and professional investigators as a serial killer kills, taunts the press, and gets away with everything. The police fail to provide any justice. Long after he disappears, the criminal and his crimes destroy the lives of countless people.

Below are my thoughts on the movie.

It’s 1969, we open on a skyline filled with fireworks. It’s the Fourth of July and the last one for two unsuspecting victims. Darlene Ferrin picks up Mike Mageau before driving to a secluded lookout. While there, a car pulls up behind them. Is it the police or a prank? The driver walks up and blinds Ferrin and Mageau with a flashlight. Mageau’s words are interrupted by a flurry of gun shots. There’s a sound of a rotary dial. A man with a creepy voice tells the 911 dispatcher about the crime and the location. He also mentions that he's responsible for another murder the year before. The voice closes out with an extended and terrifying “goodbye.” This horrifying scene sets the tone for David Fincher's 2007 filmed “Zodiac.”

Speaking of setting the mood, the filmmaker does his best with music from Three Dog Night to Donovan. Fincher then whisks you away to San Francisco with the sounds of Santana's “Soul Sacrifice.” The soundtrack feels essential and expertly layered. So does the score from David Shire that harkens back to the 70s thrillers that inspired this project (like “All the President’s Men”). Most importantly, the movie wouldn’t be the same without the haunting tones of “Hurdy Gurdy Man.”

Each step of the way, the movie makes you appreciate the little things. Extended scenes with handwriting experts. The importance of animal crackers. Isaac Hayes, Steely Dan, and the act of taking a tomato off a sandwich.

On a more fundamental level, it's amazing that this film exists at all (and in such pristine quality). It came out before the current era of commodified, serial killer Netflix dramas and/or documentary slop. David Fincher seemed destined to create the film, elevating the crime procedural a decade after his great work on “Seven.” Little did he know he’d close the cinematic door behind him, venture to Netflix for TV and movies, and open a window for original streaming content. Go figure.

I remember first seeing the poster way back in either 2006 or 2007. My eyes focused on the Golden Gate Bridge and the blue fog. There was a mystery inside, but I didn’t know anything about the real story. The movie came out during an exciting year for American cinema with other modern classics like “There Will Be Blood” and “No Country for Old Men.” The poster intrigued me, but it only lived in my imagination until I finally saw the film years later on TV. Thankfully, I caught the movie on the channel IFC which still has commercials but rarely edits the movie for content. I noticed on the guide that the movie ran for at least three hours. With commercials, you can imagine what that timeslot looks like. I decided to give it a try and found myself hooked. I was in a prime era to give this movie a proper watch, spending those years slowly expanding my cinematic horizons.

What I saw struck me on both a filmmaking and storytelling level. I came to appreciate the technical work of this movie over the years, with its early digital cinematography, subtle CGI usage, and the painstaking recreation of actual events. The movie includes three great actors at its center, but it also features a large ensemble of stellar supporting actors. This includes everyone from Chloë Sevigny, Anthony Edwards, and Philip Baker Hall to the imposing mug of John Carroll Lynch. Some of them only pop up a few times, while others are one-scene warriors. All of them are vital to the final product.

One of the great elements of this movie is its focus on obsession. It must’ve been one of my film professors that mentioned obsession as one of the ideal driving forces for any character. It propels them and the story along while also giving you room to play with their morality and motivations. In “Zodiac,” you find a number of people coming to grips with the obsessive nature of this case. Many viewers, like myself, will undoubtedly find themselves in YouTube and Wikipedia rabbit holes after watching the film. I feel like I’m sitting in the stuffy offices, combing the crime scenes, or fishing through filing cabinets along with these people.

Almost every character is bewitched by the disturbing and somewhat tantalizing clues left by the perpetrator. Among the evidence, letters and cyphers lead a trail of breadcrumbs to possible red herrings. The stuff of obsession and puzzle-solving deviants. Materials that infect the three central characters at different rates not unlike radioactive half-life. Reporter Paul Avery is the first to leave the story after he burns out, following leads to dead-ends. The next casualty is the man closest to the crimes, Inspector Dave Toschi, but he ends up with only circumstantial evidence. It ends up being cartoonist Robert Graysmith that carries on the investigation as a civilian.

Along the way, relationships and professional ties stretch, bend, or erode completely. All of this makes for some incredible drama on top of fascinating real-life facts. If you’re anything like me, you think true crime has its moments but it’s not something I consume all the time. I’d much rather find a particular case that I find fascinating and focus on that rather than watching endless episodes of “Dateline.” The case is fascinating because it grips my attention even when I'm reading an article about it. It always entices me to dig a little deeper anytime the subject comes up. It’s all made even better and more essential when a perfectionist like David Fincher gets their hands on the material.

Through it all, the movie holds my attention with its lengthy runtime and a heavy bombardment of information. In this most recent viewing, I noticed a few more details. I almost forgot that Graysmith doesn’t even meet Toschi until an hour and a half into the film. Prime suspect Arthur Leigh Allen is nearly written off by the police half way through the movie too. Another suspect, Rick Marshall, almost derails the investigation for fifteen minutes. The legitimacy of various experts come into question with throwaway lines. Perspective, along with obsession, comes into play in more ways than one. Can anybody really be trusted?

The brilliance of the storytelling lies not in the stellar first or second act, but in the third. A dramatic four-year time jump reveals the extent of obsession’s isolating grip. Graysmith endures the ire of aging witnesses, jaded cops, and family alienation. He then meets with Toschi and convinces him that the case deserves further examination. The final hour is bookended by two conversations between Graysmith and his San Francisco police contact. In the first, Graysmith throws another log on the fire. There’s a chance he could be on to something. In the second meeting, the wannabe private-eye gives the movie one of its greatest revelations (with less than 20 minutes left no less).

Most movies like this prefer to spend the last half hour in a climactic shoot out or some profound courtroom monologue. This movie remains invigorating because it dishes out information every five or ten minutes, propelling itself to the gutting finish. For me, the new information and the character’s passions feel as exciting as any set piece. Even if it means a wild-goose chase, viewers like me can’t wait to follow the heroes to hell and back.

Then, like all obsessive plots, there’s a breaking point. Graysmith makes himself a promise earlier in the film. He wants to see the prime suspect for himself. Before he’s even fallen into the web of Arthur Leigh Allen info, Jake Gyllenhaal’s hero utters this important line.

“I need to know who he is. I need to stand there. I need to look him in the eye and I need to know that it’s him.”

The thrill of “Zodiac” is that it finds a way to make these lines of dialogue, in extended scenes where nobody does anything but talk, feel worth the wait. Fincher can turn many pages of a domestic argument into a set piece. He pulls out all the stops for some unforgettable settings and sequences, taking viewers from shadowy basements to lived-in diners.

All things considered, the right director found this material before someone else did. It helps that the movie has an open-ended nature that encourages you to come back, re-examine it, and get hooked all over again. It ends with an electrifying line and quickly guts the viewer with a stomach-sinking epilogue. A finale that captures all the highs, lows, and obsessive qualities of the all-star, true-crime sickos populating this masterpiece.

I’ll leave you with this moment from about halfway through the film. Going back to a key scene between Graysmith and his wife, the latter asks an all-important question. One that speaks to the movie’s emotional core and the unofficial call-to-arms it unleashes with the end credits.

“Why do you need to do this?”

Graysmith then replies with the motto of every Substack writer.

“Because no one else will.”

On an afternoon in January, The Cleveland crowd got a little antsy at the Connor Palace Theatre.

They all showed up to see the touring version of the Tony-winning play “Stereophonic,” but they weren’t all happy to be there. Some might have hated the play, or found it to be an over-extended diary of 1970s excess. Others were likely thrown off by the format. It’s a play about music, not a musical. A rock band record their album under increasing personal and professional tensions. All of the action takes place in a recording studio. I could feel the mixed reception growing around me.

During intermission, the men’s room line included throwaway jabs about the runtime. Guys asking each other how long it had been and how much longer it would be. “It’s three hours,” said one old man to another. I heard this going into the play, but I still felt a bit apprehensive about the length. I’ve seen my fair share of musicals on stage and a handful of plays. Musicals have that otherworldly feel, constantly injecting you with melodic adrenaline. Plays ask you to be a little more quiet and to lean in. “Stereophonic” blends the two stage formats into one. The grumbling audience clearly felt a little off-kilter.

I get it though, there’s an unease throughout this play for better or for worse. Most of the runtime focuses on just how dysfunctional this band can be. Not to mention the fact that you’re trapped in the studio with these characters. Lest we forget the agitated men in line for the bathroom, it really is three hours (apparently shortened twenty minutes from Broadway’s original version). One scene about recording drums goes on for a few minutes, with characters growing tired of each other. The drummer asks if his kit sounds bad and an audience member yelled out “No!” That and the ten cell phones that went off count as some notable audience participation.

It won’t shock you if you’ve heard any behind-the-scenes tale about Fleetwood Mac, or almost any other successful band in music history. The Mac comparisons are embraced, subverted, and cultivated throughout the story. You have 5 members. Some are British and some are Americans. Three singer/songwriters vying for attention. An erratic rhythm section of addicts, failed family men, and short tempers. A tyrannical guitarist/producer that’s a perfectionist falling out of love with a fellow vocalist that’s writing the most popular songs. Sound familiar yet?

It’s not all “Rumours” though. There’s also the two engineers that have to keep order and keep the equipment running. The play doesn’t necessarily introduce a protagonist, but Grover might be pretty close to one. He spends half the play sitting with his back to the audience, considering himself a poseur in a room full of rockstars. It’s fair to say that he’s among the more self-aware members of the troupe. The others have their moments. Some of them can be funny and others can overstay their welcome.

The band members all have their changing attitudes, eccentricities, and addictions. Singer and guitarist Peter makes a case for being the main antagonist. The Lindsey Buckingham stand-in says so many outrageous and egomaniacal lines that the audience started to laugh at him. He attacks and belittles his fellow musicians, and makes Diana (basically Stevie Nicks) reconsider their relationship. Like many modern plays, it all comes down to people yelling at each other. It all depends on your tolerance for that kind of storytelling. I liked it to a point, but eventually I wanted them to get back to the music.

Speaking of the music, it’s the highlight of the play. This might sound ironic, but it is the show’s standout element. It loosely reminded me of “The Beatles: Get Back” with its moments of discovery and fine-tuning. The artists search for creative inspiration, find it in a fleeting moment, and hopefully capitalize on it. In many cases, the songs by Will Butler do a better job of revealing information than the dialog does. I wouldn’t call all of them classics, but I did feel like they enhanced the experience. The fact that the performers all play the instruments live makes it all the more lively.

There’s also the fact that scenes and time skip forward at an erratic pace. The characters find themselves recording in the booth, but you don’t hear a whole song every time. You mostly hear fragments, sometimes over and over, interrupted by a rapid change in time. Other than a few brief signs to signify act breaks, you aren’t told exactly how long its been between these moments. I felt like the show did a decent job at giving people visual or dialog cues about this, but others I saw it with felt lost in the first act.

Full disclosure: I’ve never written a review for a piece of theatre. I am not an authority on musicals or plays. I have no great insights into theater, or theatre. Nor do I fully understand the difference in spellings. I would like to say that I found it interesting, if a little long. I liked several of the songs, but I don’t know if I’ll be listening to the album this time next year.

Bottom Line: I think I enjoyed the experience much more than the other audience members did. Maybe, in some cases, in spite of them.

I’ll leave you with this. On my way up the aisle, I overheard a quartet of consumers discussing the last three hours of their lives. They kept mentioning that they liked the music. A man in this party then said something to the effect of “Look I’ll just watch a Fleetwood Mac documentary next time, I don’t need all this shit.” If that sounds like you, maybe walk and don’t run to “Stereophonic.”