Post by MaxQuad on Feb 25, 2007 22:01:50 GMT -5
He proposed to spend the full time with the lights down - in complete darkness. How better to experience an award winning radio journalist? Why the need for visuals? In the end, however, he finally relented, calling for the lights to come up. A desk, a lone microphone, 2 CD players, and Ira Glass.
For those who listen to WBEZ's This American Life on NPR, you know very well Ira Glass' voice and mission. He and his team essentially tell stories or listen to stories being told. Each show has a theme which provides a link to the various "acts" of the weekly hour, an hour that is intimate, moving, life affirming. How the stories unfold is fascinating. Each story is unique - in content, perspective, or outcome, yet, inevitably, the listener experiences an intimate connection with each. Harsh realities can play out amidst great humor and vice versa. The stories are genuine, simultaneously spare and rich. They are driven forward quietly, yet compellingly. The journeys lead to little truths with big impact. It is an hour of weekly programming that should not be missed.
The evening provided an opportunity to hear Ira Glass speak about his craft - the journalistic approach represented by This American Life. Woven throughout are sound snippets to provide examples or accentuate a point. As in the show, spoken word and music combine to provide textures and nuance. He, like the show, is genuine, warm, thoughtful, humorous, insightful, and quietly inspiring.
His intimate monologue lasts a little over an hour, followed by questions and answers. At one point, a twenty-something audience member who is not familiar with him or the show asks why she should listen. Her challenging question, after an hour of what could be viewed as the equivalent of an "inside joke" for many regular listeners was fascinating. Their exchange reflected what a thoughtful listener Ira Glass truly is - an attribute that contributes mightily to his ability to tell the good story. In a joyous moment meant to win her over (or throw up his hands in surrender) he played a sound clip of David Sedaris pondering the dilemma of going into the bathroom at a party only to find the toilet clogged by the largest turd he has ever seen. The outrageous story may not have won over the young skeptic, but it was met with tremendous laughter, both for the flamboyant storytelling ability of Sedaris and the clear expression of Glass not taking himself too seriously.
The evening was made quite special because my high school aged son was by my side, not dragged along as an uninterested party, but as an enthusiastic and thoughtful fan of This American Life. Like many stories on the show, a small event, a small connection - but one that felt profoundly moving.
MQ
For those who listen to WBEZ's This American Life on NPR, you know very well Ira Glass' voice and mission. He and his team essentially tell stories or listen to stories being told. Each show has a theme which provides a link to the various "acts" of the weekly hour, an hour that is intimate, moving, life affirming. How the stories unfold is fascinating. Each story is unique - in content, perspective, or outcome, yet, inevitably, the listener experiences an intimate connection with each. Harsh realities can play out amidst great humor and vice versa. The stories are genuine, simultaneously spare and rich. They are driven forward quietly, yet compellingly. The journeys lead to little truths with big impact. It is an hour of weekly programming that should not be missed.
The evening provided an opportunity to hear Ira Glass speak about his craft - the journalistic approach represented by This American Life. Woven throughout are sound snippets to provide examples or accentuate a point. As in the show, spoken word and music combine to provide textures and nuance. He, like the show, is genuine, warm, thoughtful, humorous, insightful, and quietly inspiring.
His intimate monologue lasts a little over an hour, followed by questions and answers. At one point, a twenty-something audience member who is not familiar with him or the show asks why she should listen. Her challenging question, after an hour of what could be viewed as the equivalent of an "inside joke" for many regular listeners was fascinating. Their exchange reflected what a thoughtful listener Ira Glass truly is - an attribute that contributes mightily to his ability to tell the good story. In a joyous moment meant to win her over (or throw up his hands in surrender) he played a sound clip of David Sedaris pondering the dilemma of going into the bathroom at a party only to find the toilet clogged by the largest turd he has ever seen. The outrageous story may not have won over the young skeptic, but it was met with tremendous laughter, both for the flamboyant storytelling ability of Sedaris and the clear expression of Glass not taking himself too seriously.
The evening was made quite special because my high school aged son was by my side, not dragged along as an uninterested party, but as an enthusiastic and thoughtful fan of This American Life. Like many stories on the show, a small event, a small connection - but one that felt profoundly moving.
MQ