Wait, am I allowed to say that Galloway seems to know whereof he speaks? Being a gay guy and all?

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Glenn Kenny on this morning’s “Don’t Hand Me That Crap” rant: “Wells is being unfair, maybe, and also maybe comparing apples to oranges. But he’s not wrong in certain respects.

“Joni Mitchell sure knows a lot of fancy chords that Swift wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole, and her lyrics have a more overtly literary edge than Swift’s. Joni made Hejira at age 33, and Taylor…made this movie.

“And Taylor will never work with the present-day equivalent of Weather Report, not least because they’re ain’t any. Which speak as much to Swift’s audience, and to the way pop music audiences have shifted, as it does to anything else. (Also to the contemporary condition of extended adolescence.)

“As popular as Mitchell was, she never achieved Swift’s pop-phenom level. There’s little real point in comparing them. But the fact that Swift was once floated to play Mitchell in a biopic (a bad idea that will not, one hopes, ever be resurrected) makes the analogies not quite irresistible but certainly understandable.”

Woody Allen‘s well-reviewed Coup de Chance opened in Paris cinemas only three weeks ago (Wednesday, 9.27), and yet, according to veteran critic Marshall Fine, who just arrived in Paris a day or so ago with his wife, Allen’s film isn’t playing anywhere in town.

I’m informed that the film is actually playing in four Paris theatres as we speak, but perhaps not for much longer.

I checked earlier and found it wasn’t even playing at the Left Banke repertory houses in the Sorbonne/Pantheon district (Le Champo, Studio Galande, Le Studio Luxembourg, Les 3 Luxembourg?

And it’s not streaming on JustWatch either. Odd.

“I can confirm that an analysis of the IDF operational system indicates that the barrage of rockets in Gaza, passing in close proximity to the al-Ahli Hospital in Gaza at the time it was hit…intelligence from [a] few sources that we have in our hands indicates that the Islamic Jihad is responsible for the failed rocket launch which hit the hospital in Gaza” — Israeli military spoikesperson.

From N.Y. Times reporters Julian E. Barnes, Adam Entous and Helene Cooper: “American officials say they have multiple strands of intelligence — including infrared satellite data — indicating that the deadly blast at a Gaza hospital on Tuesday was caused by an armed Palestinian group.

“The intelligence includes satellite and other infrared data showing a launch of a rocket or missile from Palestinian fighter positions within Gaza. American intelligence agencies have also analyzed open-source video of the launch showing that it did not come from the direction of Israeli military positions, the officials said.”

In yesterday’s “Week-Long Ear Bug” riff, I shared the following observation: “Taylor Swift does what she does very well or least very successfully, but Joni Mitchell’s eclectic mode of expression (or a facsimile) just isn’t in her. She’ll never get there. Mitchell’s stuff is alluring, sexy, sophisticated, nectary, lasting — Swift songs are candy.”

In response to which the often annoying Michael DeGregorio wrote that “since Jeff Wells, a noted music critic who is intimately knowledgeable about song writing and lyric writing, has deemed it so it must be so.”

And then the equally annoying Glenn Runciter added this: “It’s not really a surprise that everyone who really values music will hold tight to the music of their youth and decouple from contemporary music when they reach a certain age. It’s not always a ‘get off my lawn’ kind of thing, but go on a music forum and you’ll see this writ large. Zero sum attitudes about music is such a waste of time.”

HE to Runciter: “How DARE you try to characterize my Mitchell-over-Swift preference as a ‘music of my youth’ thing? How fucking rote or lazy or lethargic do you have to be to default to a cliche like that?

“I’ve been listening to (for lack of a better term) crème de la crème music all my life. Most of what’s been recorded or live-performed over the last century is okay, approvable, marginal or negligible — finding the really and truly awesome, aspirational, soul-touching stuff is a needle-in-a-haystack exercise or adventure or both. How many tens of thousands of rock songs and Broadway musical tunes and serious orchestral compositions and live performances and choice recordings (including Chumbawamba, Bernard Herrmann, Django Reinhardt, Devo, The Who, George Gershwin, The Feelies, Patti Smith, Hank Williams, the Troggs, Caribbean island music, the Irish Chieftains, Graham Parsons, Gustav Mahler, Blondie, Television, Stephen Sondheim, Lou Reed, David Johansen, Miklos Rozsa, Godly the Ruler and the great Mose Allison) and movie-score tracks do you have to fucking listen to over the decades to acquire a trustworthy sense of what’s mostly good and what’s mostly crap?

I sat through an hour’s worth of Swift’s concert film last Thursday evening. Her songs aren’t even catchy and are pretty much on the level of Good ‘n’ Plenty; Mitchell’s are pricey and succulent Swiss chocolate. There’s really no debating this.

If you’re living in one of these soulless, pencil-thin glass towers on Central Park South, you are definitely suffering from a serious aesthetic deficiency — a condition some would call the wealthy Shallow Hal syndrome.

In other words, during filming of The Hustler director Robert Rossen developed the hots for female lead Piper Laurie, unaware that she’d been “seeing” critic Joe Morgenstern (aka “JoMo”). Just before filming ended Rossen offered Laurie a significant role (presumably the sensuous, mentally disturbed temptress that Jean Seberg eventually played) in Lilith, but the blood drained from Rossen’s face when Laurie said she was about to marry Morgenstern…gaahhh!

Friendo: “A grieving widower appears on TV to lament his wife’s passing, but also to push a website and products he’ll continue to sell. The average person is too obtuse these days to see what a cynical move this is. This is Elmer Gantry stuff. Alan Hamel pushed products and a website and claimed in this chat with Today‘s co-hosts that his late wife, barely dead a couple of days, wanted women to keep buying ‘incredible’ products. This is a eulogy delivered via QVC.”

Eight or nine days ago I listened to a newly released version of Joni Mitchell‘s “See You Sometime” from “Joni Mitchell Archives, Vol. 3: The Asylum Years (1972-1975).”

And it won’t let me go. I’m hearing it over and over…car, shower, writing, walking, shopping. The only way to discharge a pernicious ear bug is to simply tough it out through dozens of listenings….eventually it’ll run out of gas.

This song is not one of Mitchell’s all-time greatest, but I can tell you one thing: There’s no way Taylor Swift will ever write or perform a song anywhere near as gentle, complex, delicate, intimate, poetic and melodically moody as “See You Sometime.”

Swift does what she does very well or least very successfully, but Mitchell’s eclectic mode of expression (or a facsimile) just isn’t in her. She’ll never get there. Mitchell’s stuff is alluring, sexy, sophisticated, nectary, lasting — Swift songs are candy.

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