Spun?

Review: Norah Jones, Little Broken Hearts (2012)

“Good morn­ing,” Norah Jones’ sul­try voice opens before con­tin­u­ing “my thoughts on leaving/are back on the table.” Instantly the mood is set — this isn’t just anoth­er dose of enjoy­able gener­ic diet jazz, this is real.

Little Broken Hearts is a record about love, loss, anguish, heartache, infi­deli­ty, and revenge. Over the course of the album’s 12 tracks, Jones cap­tures to per­fec­tion the melt­ing pot of emo­tions left in the wake of her recent breakup. The elo­quent pro­duc­tion cour­tesy of Brian Burton (aka Danger Mouse), who shares writer and com­pos­er cred­its, gives air and space to Jones’ emo­tion­al vocals.

Norah Jones became a house­hold name when her debut album hit store shelves in ear­ly 2002. Jones fol­lowed up her debut with a string of pleas­ing, if some­what gener­ic, releas­es in the same vein — until she shook things up a bit with 2009’s The Fall, an album that showed a lot of poten­tial, but not a lot of consistency.

With Little Broken Hearts Norah Jones has cre­at­ed an album that more than deliv­ers on the promise of The Fall — and arguable also the most imme­di­ate, inti­mate, and evoca­tive descrip­tion of the end of a rela­tion­ship on record. 5.0 out of 5.0 stars

Review: Ryan Adams, Ashes & Fire (2011)

Sober, mar­ried, relo­cat­ed to L.A. and back from a three-year hia­tus, singer/songwriter Ryan Adams gives us his first album of new­ly record­ed mate­r­i­al since 2008’s Cardinology and his first real solo album since Love is Hell.

Ashes & Fire feels like the newest entry in the line of acousti­cal­ly dri­ven releas­es that cat­a­pult­ed him to star­dom, but unsur­pris­ing­ly, Adams is more mature and more pro­fes­sion­al than ever before; gone are the self-pity­ing dirges of Heartbreaker and the indul­gent excess of Gold. The Cardinals helped rein in these ten­den­cies, but here Adams does­n’t even seem tempted.

Ashes & Fire is sim­ply his most coher­ent album yet, musi­cal­ly and the­mat­i­cal­ly. The imagery has moved to the west coast — and every­thing is a lit­tle hot­ter for it — and the lyrics are filled of the type of ret­ro­spec­tive nos­tal­gia that only comes from look­ing at the past not as bet­ter or worse, but different.

With Ashes & Fire, Adams has struck a del­i­cate bal­ance between going back to his singer/songwriter roots and start­ing fresh, and in doing so has cre­at­ed an evo­lu­tion­ary mas­ter­piece that feels both sur­pris­ing­ly new and com­fort­ing­ly famil­iar — prob­a­bly not unlike Adams’ own place in life. 4.5 out of 5.0 stars

Review: U2, Rattle and Hum (1988)

“This song Charles Manson stole from the Beatles…we’re steal­ing it back!” Bono shouts when you drop the nee­dle on U2’s Rattle and Hum. The 1988 album, record­ed main­ly dur­ing the band’s final North American leg of their 1987 tour to pro­mote The Joshua Tree, con­sists of live and stu­dio record­ings, orig­i­nals and cov­er versions.

Clearly affect­ed by the band’s love/hate rela­tion­ship with the coun­try they’ve toured so exten­sive­ly, the album is an eclec­tic mix of sta­di­um rock anthems infused with blues and gospel. Over the course of the album’s 72 min­utes, U2 name check American jazz greats, write a sequel to a Lennon song, reclaim a Beatles song, duet with B.B King, and even sam­ple Jimi Hendrix.

But it could nev­er have been any oth­er way; this is the sto­ry of the new­ly crowned kings of rock, tour­ing God’s own coun­try in wide-eyed bewil­der­ment. Rattle and Hum is a both hum­ble and pre­ten­tious homage to America’s great­est artists, a snap­shot of a con­fus­ing phys­i­cal and spir­i­tu­al jour­ney, but more than that, it puts you on tour with one of the world’s great­est rock bands. 4.0 out of 5.0 stars

Typesetting Math for the Web

Typography mat­ters. Bad typog­ra­phy can be as much of a bar­ri­er to the read­er as bad writ­ing. Conversely, good typog­ra­phy can sim­pli­fy the pre­sen­ta­tion of com­plex con­tent. This is espe­cial­ly true of math­e­mat­i­cal formulae.

Unfortunately, there does­n’t seem to be a stan­dard way to decent­ly ren­der for­mu­lae for the web — and basic HTML sim­ply isn’t expres­sive enough. MathML seems to be a fair attempt at a stan­dard, but like any XML lan­guage, it is over­ly ver­bose and hard to read. Also — not an entire­ly fair mea­sure of qual­i­ty, but nev­er­the­less of prac­ti­cal con­cern — there does­n’t seem to be MathML sup­port in WordPress, nor any easy way to enable it.

Instead, devel­op­ers seem to have ral­lied around the idea of ren­der­ing LaTeX to an image that can then be includ­ed. This at least allows the for­mu­lae to be view­able with prac­ti­cal­ly any device — but if you care even the slight­est about typog­ra­phy, you will lie awake at night because of the align­ment, spac­ing, type­face, and scal­ing issues that come from try­ing to make an image, not look like an image.

These issues are not inher­ent to the ren­der­ing, but rather a con­se­quence of the way images and text inter­act in HTML. Indeed, the ren­der­ing has its own align­ment and spac­ing issues, that varies between ren­der­ing ser­vices. To my eye, the best ser­vice is the Google Visualization API, which has LaTeX ren­der­ing as an undoc­u­ment­ed fea­ture. That’s not to say that Google’s ren­der­ing is with­out issues — it has a ten­den­cy to place sym­bols too close togeth­er, and has no appar­ent way to influ­ence even basic formatting.

An alter­na­tive to this is MathJax, which uses a com­bi­na­tion of HTML, CSS and Web fonts to ren­der for­mu­lae as text. In the­o­ry, this should alle­vi­ate many of the issues from image-based approach. In prac­tice, the typog­ra­phy is hor­ren­dous — most notably, near­ly every char­ac­ter, num­ber and sym­bol is ital­i­cized. Bad!

As a com­pro­mise, I have set­tled for using basic HTML for­mat­ting when pos­si­ble (e.g. for sub­script) — this makes inline for­mu­lae appear fair­ly coher­ent with their sur­round­ings — and a LaTeX plu­g­in for WordPress. This seems a fair com­pro­mise between con­ve­nience and qual­i­ty, but a com­pro­mise nonetheless.

The TV Show Rerun Paradox

We all know the feel­ing; TV sta­tions seem to be show­ing the same episodes of your favorite show over and over again. While the con­spir­a­cy-the­o­rist in me would love to believe this is true, there’s actu­al­ly a very good rea­son for this.

Remember when you were in school, and despite the appar­ent unlike­li­hood (after all, there are quite a few days in a year), two of your class­mates had their birth­days on the very same date? Actually, this isn’t unlike­ly at all; in a group of 23 or more peo­ple there is a 50% chance that at least two of their birth­days will coin­cide. For 57 or more peo­ple the chance is 99%! This is com­mon­ly known as “the birth­day para­dox”, although it’s not real­ly a para­dox at all.

The same prin­ci­ple applies to TV show episodes, and since most series have a lot less than 365 episodes, the prob­a­bil­i­ties are actu­al­ly even high­er. We’ll do the cal­cu­la­tions for a few well-known shows, but first let’s see how it works.

Let E be the set of episodes for a giv­en show. We denote the num­ber of episodes by |E| (read: “the size of E”). Now, for a giv­en num­ber of seen episodes to all be dif­fer­ent, they must be pair­wise dis­tinct. Let’s cal­cu­late the prob­a­bil­i­ty pE(n) that n ran­dom­ly cho­sen episodes of E are pair­wise distinct.

p_E(n)=1\ \cdot\ \left(1-\frac{1}{|E|}\right)\ \cdot\ \left(1-\frac{2}{|E|}\right)\ \cdots\ \left(1-\frac{n-1}{|E|}\right)\ =\ \frac{|E|!}{|E|^n(|E|-n)!}

This cal­cu­la­tion can be under­stood as the prob­a­bil­i­ty of choos­ing an unseen episode n con­sec­u­tive time. The prob­a­bil­i­ty of see­ing the same episode twice when watch­ing n episodes of E is then giv­en by 1-pE(n). Let’s study this for a few well-known TV shows.

For Friends, which has 236 episodes, the num­ber of episodes required for a 50% chance of a repeat is 19, and watch­ing 46 episodes gives a 99% chance. For House, cur­rent­ly at 162 episodes, these num­bers are 16 and 38 episodes respec­tive­ly. For America’s longest run­ning sit­com The Simpsons, cur­rent­ly at 492 episodes, watch­ing 27 episodes gives a 50% of a repeat sneak­ing in; and watch­ing 67 episodes brings this up to 99%!

So the next time you tune in to your favorite syn­di­cat­ed TV show and are dis­ap­point­ed that you’ve already seen the episode, you can feel com­fort­ed that it’s not the net­work’s fault — it’s just math.

Extra cred­it: The birth­day para­dox can also be applied to why your iPod shuf­fle appar­ent­ly keeps choos­ing the same songs to play. Although, that choice also seems to be influ­enced by the law that any ran­dom choice with­in a playlist will pick the worst song in the list.