The final Lostnesday, only now scheduled as a Lostunday, looms just about exactly a week from now. I haven't watched since the Year of the Long Hiatus, which was right after the "six" "survivors" returned and resolved to go back. So I've missed the dueling timelines and the stuff that blowed up real good and the giant smoke monster and the deaths that are seemingly occurring faster than at a Sarah Palin Thanksgiving turkey-pardoning ceremony.
Yet I am planning to watch, just for old times' sake. Maybe they'll at least explain the numbers, or who Jacob is, or SOMETHING to pay off on my investment of about 39 Wednesday nights of my life.
Making it better for me, no matter what, is my guaranteed increase in appreciation for the score. Last week's
New Yorker profiled Michael Giacchino, who also recently won an Oscar for his work on
Up, and who usually gets, at most, three days to write 30 or more minutes of music for an episode once the principal photography's been wrapped. He does it without advance reference to the script or any interaction with the writers or producers. JJ Abrams credits his contribution as an essential ingredient of the show's very life, even though he has to deal with all kinds of Hollywood crap- from deadlines and talent requirements to the occasional preconceived notions of the show's directors.
Therein lies a tale, not from Giacchino but from the
New Yorker author of the piece, quoting composer George S. Clinton (who I presume is not the Parliament-Funkadelic one):
I actually had a director once. The orchestra was playing fortissino, which is very loud.... He said, 'Can't they play any louder?' And I said, 'Well, they're already playing fortissimo.' And he said, 'Tell them to play FIVEtissimo!"
Maybe those numbers are going to turn out to be the frequencies of notes in a major chord or something. It just damn better not be a chord in
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