One's response to artistic endeavours is, of course, very personal and subjective. Although I have opinions about the movies I see, the books I read and the music I hear, they are after all nothing more than opinions. For people I know with a shared sensibility, my opinions can be useful in saving them two hours at the movies and $20 on admission and popcorn. For anyone else who stumbles across this space, it's just another voice in the mist, to be weighed in accordance with whatever scale you personally use.

Because it is personal, strange things can happen. For example, I can say with great confidence that Hilary Duff has minimal ability as both a singer and actor. On the other hand, I can also acknowledge that she has considerable charm and likability. For many, and not just pre-teen girls, they can overlook what their eyes and ears tell them and enjoy her for what she is - a non-threatening bubble gum pop princess who will leave our lives in a few years not to be heard from again until - ala Debbie Gibson, Dana Plato, etc. - her money runs out and she appears naked on glossy pages at your local convenience store. Her sister Haylie, on the other hand, may torture us a bit longer given the slight bit of cred she earned with her performance in Napoleon Dynamite (which just gets funnier every time I watch it), although if you pay attention her "acting" is no more than a pout and a snarl. (Although, thinking about it now, the only performances in that movie that are more than one note repeated are from Jon Gries and Tina Majorino, both of whom I have seen in several movies and/or TV shows, although in ND Gries was completely unrecognizable.)

When it comes to music, this can explain why my daughter Brittany has Ms. Duff on her mp3 player next to tunes by blink-182 and, her current favorite and the bane of her mother's existence, "My Humps". It also explains why I absolutely love that song "Alive" by Melissa O'Neal of Canadian Idol fame and, for that matter, why Kelly Clarkson doesn't completely suck anymore. Or why I enjoyed Mariah Carey's We Belong Together after more than a decade of loathing every song she released. Or why Justin Timberlake went from sucking 90% of the time in N'Sync (getting a pass from these ears for only "Bye Bye Bye" and "It's Gonna Be Me") to a string of solid solo tunes, or why every song by Usher is lame except for "Yeah" and "Caught Up". The ears know what they like, and an artist's past aural crimes are forgiven under the assault of "Since U Been Gone".

My listening is all over the map. This weekend I have been playing Dashboard Confessional on my Dell DJ, and expect to for a few days more. Last week at work it was Elliott Smith and The Offspring, this week it may be Rob Thomas or Nine Inch Nails. I can't generalize about the music I like, although I am a sucker for clever or witty lyrics. I like a lot of power pop bands like Fountains of Wayne, and I listen to a lot of emo, although emo is really power pop with louder guitars and pierced nipples. Then there is my affection for the likes of Elvis Costello and Fiona Apple, for Brand New and Frank Sinatra, for Johnny Cash and Bob Dylan. As long as my ears don't think it sucks, I'm there.

The reason for my writing the above is because I have been listening to "best of" collections from two classic Canadian bands from the late '80s and early '90s, and reconsidering their position in the heirarchy for their era. With apologies to my friend Keith, I have concluded that the great Canadian rock band from that time is not the Tragically Hip. No, my friend, it is The Pursuit of Happiness. The first track on the CD is "I'm An Adult Now", and I remain surprised that this classic song has never made it into a movie (according to IMDb). As a reminder, the lyrics (skipping the choruses), courtesy of http://www.lyricsdownload.com:

Well, I don't hate my parents
I don't get drunk just to spite them
I've got my own reasons to drink now
Think I'll call my dad up and invite him
I can sleep in till noon anytime I want
Though there's not many days that I do
Gotta get up and take on that world
When your an adult it's no cliche it's the truth

I can't even look at young girls anymore
People will think I'm some kind of pervert
Adult sex is either boring or dirty
Young people they can get away with murder
I don't write songs about girls anymore
I have to write songs about women
No more boy meets girl boy loses girl
More like man tries to figure out what the hell went wrong

I can't take any more illicit drugs
I can't afford any artificial joy
I'd sure look like a fool dead in a ditch somewhere
With a mind full of chemicals
Like some cheese-eating high school boy

Sometimes my head hurts and sometimes my stomach hurts
And I guess it won't be long
Till I'm sitting in a room with a bunch of people whose necks and backs are aching
Whose sight and hearing's failing
Who just can't seem to get it up
Speaking of hearing, I can't take too much loud music
I mean I like to play it, but I sure don't like the racket
Noise, but I can't hear anything
Just guitars screaming, screaming, screaming
Some guy screaming in a leather jacket
Wooah!

Thank you, Moe Berg, for that slice of musical heaven. But it's the second song that nails down TPOH's greatness. It's a cover of Prince's "When Doves Cry", and what makes it so great is that it sounds exactly like a TPOH original should sound like until you realize it's a remake and you are then floored by how they managed to retain the feel of the original while adding their own distinctive touches. It is exactly the way a cover should be done - respectful, but not reverent. The rest of the album floats along in the same vein, with the classics all fans know ("She's So Young", "Cigarette Dangles") along with some greats we forgot and a few sparkling new gems. Moe Berg just doesn't release enough new stuff, but I hope this album sold enough to get him back in action.

Oh, and the Tragically Hip? Well, when you listen to their hits one after the other, you realize how boring and similar it all is. For me, they are a band best heard in a stream with other bands, not in isolation. Of course, that's just my opinion. But it's all I have.

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By the way, in searching IMDb for usage of "I'm An Adult Now", I came across this short film directed in 1993 by the one and only Ben Affleck: I Killed My Lesbian Wife, Hung Her on a Meat Hook, and Now I Have a Three-Picture Deal at Disney. I have a lot more interest in seeing this than, say, Bounce or Gigli.

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I watched two more movies this weekend. Last night, it was, finally, White Chicks, and it's the funniest film I've seen since The Wedding Crashers. This afternoon, it was Kurosawa's justly-considered classic Seven Samurai. As you can tell, I like to mix things up. Maybe I'll check out some porn tonight.