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Saturday, February 28, 2004
So I saw me The Passion last night and it just sort of confused me. My companions were pretty disgusted by the violence and gore, and while I wasn't--takes a lot for me to be grossed out with sights, although smells and descriptions not so much--I told my squeamish parents that they defeinitely wouldn't get through it very far, which is true. I also made some comments afterwards that belied my general lack of affect toward it, but I'm smart enough not to repeat them in a public forum, since they even greatly disturbed my companions, and that's saying something.
Apparently it has a much different effect on believers, which I can certainly understand--certainly, for instance, seeing Tara killed on Buffy had a lot more impact on me than on someone who hadn't lived with the show for awhile. But I'm sort of unconvinced that under the current critical rubrick it's really valid to call it a great movie, which some people seem to be doing. However, I WOULD be quite interested in discussing it in comparison to a) historical passion plays, and b) grindhouse gore movies, to both of which I believe it owed a lot. The audience was pretty subdued. No crying or anything, but it was a midnight Friday showing in Chelsea, so it's pretty goddamn far from representative, fair to say. I'd probably reccomend "The Rapture"[1] or "The Apostle" over this one[2]. Oh yeah, and what the fuck was with Satan? It was like watching a Marilyn Manson video or something, especially the shot at the end where apparently his wig blows off. (!) This is to say nothing about the undeniably symbolic but also undeniably Whitesnake-video-like dove-hovering-in-midair slo-mo shot. Or Pilate looking like Zero Mostel, and thus the whole Pilate scene seeming like a creepy outtake from A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum. Or the whole part where Judas is partially eaten by Jewish (?) demon children, especially the shot that seemed to be a reference to "Life of Brian." If you haven't seen the movie yet, I know this sounds weird, but I swear, this whole paragraph is true. [1] After seeing which I actually had to go home and take a shower. Blarrrgh. [2] Or maybe "Breaking the Waves," but that's pushing it, I know. posted by Mike B. at 8:00 PM 0 comments
Friday, February 27, 2004
I had a weird trip to work this morning. The train was running slow and I got out late, but the train was right in the station when I got there, so it was like a straight line from the apartment down the street into the subway. I didn't even stop at a stoplight, I think. I rushed into the train car, sat down in one of those corner seats wedged up against a window, and listened to Black Box Recorder's The Facts of Life.
It's one of my favorite albums. I first got it in London, just when the title track was getting big (or big for a track like that, anyway, but they were on TOTP), and really loved it then. Sometimes song associations fade, but even today, four years later, when I'm listening to "The English Motorway System," it just feels like I'm on the top deck of a bus on a rainy London day, which was where I first heard the song. It's a very specific feeling and I guess I can't really describe it any better than that, but it feels just sort of empty and misty and chilly, slow-moving and peaceful. At any rate, I ended up nodding off. Usually when I do this on my morning commute, the station stops are jarring enough and the other passengers are loud and jostling enough that I don't really get more than a few minutes' sleep at a time. But this time, either because of my tardiness or the vagaries of the MTA scheduling system, there were very few people in the train; I'd say the seats were only about half-full. The announcements were quiet, and there were some extended station stops that were similarly muted. And so I ended up dozing lightly for pretty much the entire half-hour trip. I don't know what was going on--I got a decent 7 hours of sleep last night, but I guess it was just one of those things. I would come up briefly and be surprised either by the hat I was holding or the thought that I had missed my station, but it was something about that particular set of circumstances that pretty much put me under for the duration. In large part, I think it was because of the music. It was a very odd sensation, because as I say, I was a lot more asleep than I'd usually be, but I was drifting in and out. I suppose it felt dreamy, like a walking dream, except that instead of my brain producing dreams, my brain was producing the music I was listening to, or so it felt like. Or maybe it was more that the music was clamping down the dreams. But no, that's not it--it really seemed like the music itself was what I was dreaming. Probably that's because of the headphones. Headphones are wonderful things, aren't they? So warm and enveloping. I get the biggest pair I can find. I actually used to have a lot of problems with loud noises on the subway until I discovered that as long as I'm listening to music all the time it's not a problem. I guess you could say that it's a technique of distancing yourself from other people, but fuck it, it's New York: if I didn't distance myself from other people, I'd go crazy. I have a strange weakness for images of headphones in pop music, especially big headphones. The thing that springs to mind first is the cover of the Craig David album, but there's also the somewhat less ideal example of the Papa Roach album. And, of course, there's the wonderful Bjork song "Headphones." These headphone images all seem to present a particular image: tranquility, coolness, smoothness; beatitude, really, is what I feel they represent. (The chorus of the Bjork song, for instance, goes "my headphones / they saved my life / your tape / it lulled me to sleep.") You almost never see images of sullen teens retreating into their headphones in pop music; when these creatures do appear, they're not blaring music against the world, but instead, the headphones seem to act almost like a magic amulet, making them smooth, gliding through the problems of life without turning their head to notice. Controlling the soundtrack to your own life allows you to control yourself, and teens have a problem controlling themselves. (So do I, but that's another post entirely.) But more importantly, someone listening to music on headphones, especially with their eyes closed, seems to be meditating. They are quietly reflecting on the music and are at peace. The problem with this image, of course, is that most people are not listening to headphones in environments that can properly be called peaceful. Indeed, in the especial case of the NYC public transport system, you really can't listen to anything peaceful, because you won't be able to hear it. There's a decent number of albums--Mogwai, spoken word, classical--that I just can't listen to on the subway because I just won't be able to hear most of it. And so, unless you have some of those noise-canceling headsets, you end up blasting somewhat or very loud music at full volume, not necessarily to avoid the outside world as to hear what you're listening to. Not that this is a bad thing all the time. There's something very appealing about the idea of a very loud and very contained thing; it reminds me of the image of an entire miniature planet contained within a jewelry box. It's there, and everything's proceeding as normal, and if you're inside the jewelry box, it all seems very nice, and if you're outside the jewelry box, it doesn't seem like anything's there. But once you open it... The Black Box Recorder album is not a loud album, but it's not a peaceful album, either. There's not many distorted guitars, the synth lines are pretty clean (mostly basslines and strings, actually), and the drums tend to be 808 pops and snaps and ride tinkles, all very clean and soft, but not actually quiet, per se. I could hear it just fine; indeed, as I say, it sort of drowned else everything out. But it felt like it shouldn't have. And maybe that's why everything felt so weird. If I'm listening to Metallica, well of course I can't hear what else is going on. But if someone's whispering in my ear and a tremeloed guitar is chiming and there are pretty backing vocals, why shouldn't that blend in with everything else? But it doesn't, and all that space feels like a dream, like something I can walk around in. And that's what that album is to me. That and the top deck of a London bus. posted by Mike B. at 3:08 PM 0 comments
Pitchfork implies that there are rumours floating around that the Pixies' full US tour will be a co-headlining one "with another massively popular, massively influential early-alternative act who also happens to be playing at Coachella." I thought it might be Mission of Burma, but checking the website, this would seem to mean Radiohead, except they're 90's rather than late 80's. Same deal with Belle & Sebastian.
So...Flaming Lips? That would be nice. Aside from the part where my head explodes, but yes, very nice. posted by Mike B. at 11:54 AM 0 comments
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
In Fargo Rock City, Chuck Klosterman writes:
Part of the reason 80's hard rock will never get respect--even kitschy respect--is because so many of the major players have retroactively tried to disassociate themselves from all of their peers. Disco didn't wrestle with this kind of shame: Even after it had been flogged like a dead horse, formed discotheque superstars were still proud to be part of the phenomenon they built. Subsequently, it's become acceptable to play disco albums at parties. Which leads me, of course, to the issue of Sebastian Bach on Gilmore Girls. Before we get into all the critical issues, let me just say first how much I love this. The character Bach plays, Gil, is an older guy who could be accurately described as a "metal dude." He has a family and runs a sandwich shop which he owns. The guitarist for the band some of the characters play in quits to go to college, and so in their search for a new one, they end up with Gil. Now, it's easy to see how this could've gone wrong. It could've been condescending, an act of pure stunt casting, and just turned out insulting and wrong. And sure, the members of the group are a little bit weirded out by Gil. But 18-year-olds who listen to the Shins are weirded out by metal dudes, especially metal dudes who want to play in their indie-rock bands, so that's hardly unrealistic. And it works, because Gil is presented as a slightly out-of-it (as are almost all the characters on the show, about one thing or another--Lorelai about her mother, Rory about her OCD, Luke about his grumpiness, etc.) but undeniably good guy. Bach neither tries to coast on nor wholly avoid his image, but simply uses a certain veracity to evoke a very real kind of person--the aging local metal dude who never really made it in music but still retains his metal-dude roots while settling into a comfortable existence, and many guys of this type are, indeed, good folk through and through. They're arguably the naughts version of the aging hippie, except instead of abandoning ideals of social change, he just abandoned his ideals of partying all the time, which being sort of a good thing, tends to make him more of a positive figure, I feel. It's just really nice to see. He's been good in the follow-up episodes, but the one where he actually joins the band is just so charming--when Lane decides to reverse the band's decision and let him in, Gil, who's in town watching the fireworks with his family, is just so happy about it, it's really nice. Because he's honestly happy to be making music. And it's sort of rare to see that acknowledged--that metal dudes really did, and do, love music. So anyway, what I'm trying to say (aside from "Gilmore Girls is awesome!") is that I think this signals that practitioners of pop-metal are finally beginning to embrace their roots. Hell, this article[1] starts off with a quote from Bach thusly: "How did heavy metal become so mainstream?"[1.5] Well, of course, it was a huge mainstream musical phenomenon that died over 15 years ago, so right on schedule, here it comes as retro. In some ways, not seeing this coming ("will never get respect") is a failure of vision on Klosterman's part, since he's lived through a few retro revivals himself--I mean, the guy grew up in the 70's for heaven's sake, and describes himself as having a Richie Cunningham haircut, if I recall correctly. The book was only written 3-4 years ago, so you'd think this trend would've been at least partially evident. Granted, in the Epilogue (which I've only skimmed) he acknowledges the coming pop-metal revival, but at the same time it would seem to be a clear critical point that if you're talking about a genre that's had over, let's say, 5 platinum albums, it's going to be sincerely revived at some point. It seems pretty obvious in hindsight, but I suppose that's what hindsight does: make things seem obvious when they really weren't. That said (and I don't mean to be too harsh on Chuck, since in many ways making that claim of its eternal outsiderness was more true to the spirit of metal fandom than cynically predicting a retro renaissance[1.75]), I think the comparison with disco is a really useful one, especially as it validates the existence of a certain sub-cycle in the retro cycle. Of course, in many ways neither disco nor metal went away after their public funerals--the former simply transmogrified into house music, and the latter was subsumed in more diffuse ways, i.e. Soundgarden, the continuing dominance of the power-ballad form, Staind, etc. But this is the mainstream we're talking about, and both died, as I say, pretty public deaths. What I remember about disco, though, is that it initially came back not as we know it today, but as a jokey fashion device along with the general wave of 70's nostalgia that the whole weird Gen-X thing ushered in. This was, I think, in the mid-early 90's, and "disco" was mostly bell-bottoms you wore because they were sexy and platform shoes you wore because they were funny and lava lamps and disco balls you displayed because they were tastefully hilarious, sort of. But music-wise, I think you'd have to search pretty hard to find anyone using the term "disco" to describe themselves.[2] Sure, there were scattered instances--the ABBA-worship of Ace of Base, the disco perfection of "Lovefool"--but these are a far, far cry from Franz Ferdinand and Heiko Vos, who come bearing both scene cred and genre fealty. I suppose it's still largely referred to as "dance-punk" or "shuffle-tech," but we all know it's disco, and it does get called that a significant portion of the time. It's disco without shame now, not disco-as-kitsch. I think we're in that same early-revival stage with metal now. There's the jokey fashion, of course--I think that whole wearing-vintage-Styx-t-shirts trend started in late 2000, and has now simply been sublimated into trucker chic but has never really gone away. Music-wise, I think people are really beginning to undergo an honest reassessment of the music, but while it does get played, it's similarly for ironic nostalgia value; you don't yet see people touting their DJ sets of deep metal album cuts in the same way that you currently see them getting cultural capital out of obscure italo-disco.[3] Like with the Cardigans/ABBA/"Girls and Boys" thing, you have a few scattered instances you can point to, but none really suggest a sincere renaissance. Andrew WK is described as "dance-metal" despite having just as much in common with Motley Crue as the Rapture do with Donna Summer. The Darkness are doing an ironic take on it, and while it's certainly an awesome ironic take on it, it's also certainly going far off its kitsch value, and I don't think it's exactly prompting kids to look at the back catalogue of their sound. Rob[4] likes to point out how much certain Matrix and Matrix-y productions (Liz Phair, Courtney Love, etc.) have in common with pop-metal; certainly you'd be hard-pressed to listen to the first minute of the Liz album and not see the connection there.[5] But, as with mid-90's mainstream disco, no one's calling themselves pop-metal, so you can't really say it's arrived yet. So let's call this a test: if good vocal pop-metal (I'm not counting bands like the Fucking Champs and Don Cab, who are more based on underground metal anyway) is the hot thing in the underground in five to ten years, let's call that a pattern. Backing up my claims is the fact that synth-pop, which was the pop predecessor to pop-metal--new wave of the early 80's, pop metal of the late 80's--is the big thing right now. I think it could work. [1] Incidentally, the first picture on the second page of the article, featuring Bach in full frontman mode with his arms around a prim-looking Rory, makes me feel like someone's hitting me between the lobes of my brain with a trowel, but I can't say exactly why. [1.5] Rereading this, it's odd that he doesn't have the word "again" at the end of that statement. Maybe he means to say that million-selling metal records are metal, but going on a TV program is mainstream? [1.75] And, of course, you could point out that FRC itself is, in no small part, the cause of the critical re-evaluation of 80's metal, so maybe it was a self-denying prophecy. (Or, uh, a reverse prophecy.) [2] Unless U2 did. Did U2? Or were they just calling themselves "pop"? Of course, I harbor a murderous rage toward U2, so I'm unlikely to put much stock in this fact, true or not. [3] Which is not to say that such purveyors are insincere; it's the culture that's changed around them and given their true, abiding loves cachet. [4] Who gets an assist on this one for a discussion a while back about the whole Bach-on-Gilmore-Girls issue, as well as pointing me to Bach's awesome website. [5] Not to mention the fact that major tracks on Courtney's last two albums have focused on LA/Hollywood ("Malibu," "Celebrity Skin," "Sunset Strip"), which Klosterman points out is a key trope of 80's metal. posted by Mike B. at 6:36 PM 0 comments
Hey, I know this doesn't really seem like a Beach Boys kinda place, but (as Rob pointed out) you should go read this article on Smile, written by a friend o'mine. Well-written and generally very good. posted by Mike B. at 12:03 PM 0 comments
Ha ha ha ha. Ah, that's good. Liars: walking, talking chodes. posted by Mike B. at 11:57 AM 0 comments
Tuesday, February 24, 2004
Just finished...well, I guess "watching" is the wrong word, so let's go with "listening to some folks watch" Josie and the Pussycats. Which I love--it's my copy--but I'm loyal first and foremost to you, my wonderful blog readers (extra special greetings to the 250 extra or so of you that showed up today just for the kiddie-porn jokes!), and I wanted to get up some new, non-kitten-based content for yas.
At any rate, I like Josie's ambiguity about the whole corporate-control-of-culture thing (i.e. that it's bad, but the movie also takes its depiction of same to a such ridiculous level that it's easy to read it as a parody of cultural criticism as well), but I also had two thoughts the movie probably didn't intend me to have. Number one: "A machine that makes you love pop music MORE?!?!? Sign me up!" And number two: "You know, I wouldn't mind getting signed like that..." Ah well. Where the hell did I put my soul, anyway? posted by Mike B. at 11:48 PM 0 comments
Thinking about The Passion...
Front-page headline in the Post yesterday was something like "Fans' Verdict on Mel's Movie: 'I CRIED'" (the Post being the hilariously righty NYC tab; the more moderate one, the Daily News, also featured the movie on the cover, but called it "the most virulently anti-Semitic movie made since the German propaganda films of World War II," so.) What is it about Christian fandom that's so deeply creepy? And this has nothing to do, I think, with me not being a Christian: I don't find Christian faith creepy, and I don't find other kinds of fandom creepy[1], so what is it about that? About the Left Behind stuff? About the Christian-themed, vaguely cheeky t-shirts? About the Christian mall gift shops? Because, make no mistake, it's fandom just as we're familiar with it. Oh sure, Xters have different aesthetics from the groups we typically associate with fandom--there's significantly more pink and puppies and raised lettering in a Christian shop than in a comic store or a record store--but aside from those surface differences, I think they're pretty similar. Most fandoms are based around taking a behaviorally-centered activity, limned by certain moral guidelines, and either taking something of limited consumptional value and widening it to a bunch of ancillary things (the Bible -> Jesus mugs, Star Trek -> books, t-shirts, conventions) or taking something of wide consumptional value and making it a larger social activity (comic books -> conventions and bulletin boards, indie albums -> concerts and, er, bulletin boards). It's a gathering around people who have pretty similar tastes--most Xters are also into family films and sports, most comic book fans are also into computer games, most indie fans are also into literary fiction--centering it around a central realm of expression, and making it into a cohesive group via marketing. People crying at The Passion shouldn't be any different from people crying at a Dashboard Confessional show; athletes thanking God shouldn't be any different from bands talking about how much the Velvet Underground inspired them. But, of course, it is. Why? Because Christian fandom exists in a much wider context than any of those other groups[2]. It's much more mainstream, but more accurately, it exists in a much larger political context. Sure, indie fans tend to be liberal, but their political beliefs don't spring from liking Yo La Tengo; indeed, in some cases, it's exactly the opposite. But for Xters, a decent portion of their political beliefs spring directly from being Big Into The Christ. And so, sure, some Christians get disgusted at people going to degenerate movies, but the action, technically, is the crime; going to a dirty movie means that you went to a dirty movie, but it doesn't mean, say, that you support gay marriage or something. But if someone's buying a significant volume of Christian merch, it flows pretty much inevitably from the terms of their Christ-fandom[3] that they're anti-abortion, anti-gay, etc. They may not--Lord knows I know enough Christians to say that--but I think that it's a reasonable assumption that most dedicated Xter-fans are also evangelical, and those kids, well, they're a bit more straightedge than the rest of y'all. And it's creepy, if nothing else, that a product choice also makes a logically unrelated political statement, and that in part it's being bought for that reason. There's no actual connection between a cross on a mug, but at the same time, well, there really is. Don't get me wrong--I'm pretty regularly annoyed by libs' refusal to engage with believers on a respectful level, and I don't think this analysis is trying to justify. But I am trying to show a) just how much Jesus boosters have in common with your run-of-the-mill indie kid, but also b) that the creepiness libs feel about all this Jeebus stuff is, if not exactly fully justified, at least fully in tune with traditional lefty values. As for the movie: I want to see it, I think. I like that it's gory, cos goddamn, the Bible is fucking gory as hell sometimes, although more the Old Testament. Still, AFAIK Passion Plays themselves often involved a decent bit of low-tech gore themselves, so it's a kind of pop updating of traditional art. On the other hand, I'd like to see someone take it farther. Like a Jesus horror film. "Try as you might, you CAN'T KILL HIM...unless you're a JEW!" [1] OK, except for some, which need not be named, but suffice to say I'm no longer an active Tori Amos fan. Speaking of Christians... [2] Interesting tangent to be pursued here about political fandom, but I have to go to bed soon. [3] This is getting a bit flip, but eh, I'm addressing them in the same terms as all the other fans, so I'm going to run with it. posted by Mike B. at 11:44 PM 0 comments
Well shit, if a Bikini Kill poster tells me I'm wrong...
One of the logical errors here is that if I say something is a joke I somehow am also saying it isn't something else as well, making a political argument. If folks wanted to engage with the issue--which no one did--I could've explained. But they didn't, so I don't. Ah well. Last you'll hear on the issue.[1] Nothing but religion and comedy and music and nun-fucking from now on. Damnit! [1] Unless I decide to make tomorrow "rape day."[2] [2] Which I probably won't. posted by Mike B. at 10:23 PM 0 comments
Liars: sucked before, suck in a different way now. posted by Mike B. at 4:49 PM 0 comments
And here you can learn that I am a Republican and like Vice magazine, which is bad.
Don't forget, kids--I'm from Brooklyn! Judge me accordingly! posted by Mike B. at 4:13 PM 0 comments
Interview with a fan of kiddie porn.
(Note: this is true AFAIK. I am not just making a convenient joke.) posted by Mike B. at 3:46 PM 0 comments
Babies as flowers! So cute! posted by Mike B. at 11:47 AM 0 comments
Pretty flowers. posted by Mike B. at 11:47 AM 0 comments
A cute little kitten. posted by Mike B. at 11:46 AM 0 comments
Monday, February 23, 2004
I'd hate to end the day on a bit of Williamsburg gossip, so let me instead link to this thing, which I think is a bit overheated. I mean, it doesn't get to the key question: sure, they're revolting, but are they fuckable?
I think you should never get so offended by child pornography that you neglect to tell me whether it's good jerk-off material. posted by Mike B. at 6:22 PM 0 comments
So, er, they're building an NYU dorm in Williamsburg?
What's up with that? posted by Mike B. at 6:13 PM 0 comments
A brief, probably unfocused response to watching The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas last night:
God, I just want to hang out with Dolly Parton for, like, two years. I can't seem to find the link right now, but there was a surprisingly great article about her in the Rolling Stone "Women in Rock" issue a while back. Among other things, it noted that she has written over 3,000 songs[1], which makes me want to kiss her, that she has been married to her publicity-shy husband for almost 40 years, and that Velveeta was one of her favorite foods. Upon hearing this, the interviewer said something to the effect of, "C'mon, that can't be true." Dolly then took him into her private quarters and showed him a kitchen stocked with boxes of Velveeta, cans of Spam, loaves of Wonder Bread--just piles and piles of white trash food that she doesn't have to eat anymore, but does anyway, because it's fucking good. And seriously, how good is "I Will Always Love You" in that context? It just breaks your heart, doesn't it? What a fucking song. Goddamn. I want to MARRY IT. It's one of those songs that you just can't fuck up. Doesn't matter what the arrangement is: just lay that chorus melody over it and it's all you need in life. But it's all Dolly: when she's trading verses with the hookers and they all have these sort of straightforward musical-theater voices and she comes in and it's just this totally different, unique phrasing and delivery, wow! She really does do that, and it doesn't sound affected in the slightest. Other than that, the scene with the gaily dancing Governor (played by Charles Durning, a wonderful character actor who was also in a few Coen brothers movies and played Doc Hopper in The Muppet Movie) is some sort of perfect comic thing: aside from seemingly inspiring the Crazy Evil Texan character on the Simpsons, and quite possibly Bill Clinton, it somehow nails exactly what I had in my head of what politicians do when they've just hoodwinked the press. Can't you sort of see Ari Fleischer going backstage from the press room in the White House and just sort of doing a Texas shuffle into the wings? I sure can. [1] Memo to Ryan Adams: when you've written over 3,000 songs, and when one of them's been covered by Puff Daddy and one by Whitney Houston, then you get to call yourself prolific. posted by Mike B. at 6:13 PM 0 comments
I was thinking a bit at lunch about "selling out." Now, I hope we've gotten to the point where we don't just accept this unquestioningly as a bad thing--we at least look at the context, and if you're like me, you get real suspicious of the person leveling the charge.
But while I think that notion has become a bit ridiculous, when you abstract it slightly, it starts to look a lot more reasonable. After all, "selling out" is really scenester shorthand for "betraying your ideals for material gain," and I'm not sure how many of us would really be comfortable arguing against this particular concept. On the other hand, why not? It doesn't make a whole lot of sense for ostensibly liberal-humanist people to embrace such a quasi-religious concept as this. After all, it would seem to come down to the idea that if you reaaaaaally believe something, you should continue to let that belief guide your actions no matter what. But what does reaaaaaaally believing consist of? Presumably, believing despite all inducement not to, and what is this besides faith? And since when do we put a lot of stock in blind faith? Now, like all good little post-structuralists, I know that pretty much everything we do, and 100% of what we say and write, is guided by principles that sorta-kinda have no more basis in objective fact than the Branch Davidians' light-hearted child-marryin' creed. Morality, language, justice, science, law: all of these things are ephemeral human constructs. But we abide by them anyway--and, indeed, it's perfectly acceptable to do so anyway--because they make our lives generally easier and happier. We believe in these things for practical reasons. Which brings us back to selling out. The moral formulation behind selling out is that you should stick to your principles even when it becomes inconvenient to do so. But this simply doesn't make any sense. If your principles are only there for your own convenience (in the case of indie folks, for example, it helps them to continue do what they're doing without it feeling sort of silly and inferior and worthless compared to commercially successful musicians), then why shouldn't you sell 'em out? Now, don't get me wrong: I recognize that the whole morality of sticking to your guns is socially practical, too, and I'm not advocating simply looking out for #1 all the time; this can easily come back to bite you in the ass. But let's at least recognize it for what it is. But moreover, why the hell would we believe that something is right or true simply because it's what we feel in our hearts? Since when has that been the case? And, even more importantly, if that thing we feel can be proven wrong or silly, isn't it more intellectually proper to change what we feel, no matter how hard that can be, than to simply continue on? Let me illustrate here with an example about music, which may simply serve to marginalize and delegitimize the issue I'm discussing, but hey, that's why we're here. A few months back, I was talking in the real world with some folks about Liz Phair. I made the familiar argument that she clearly wanted to make a pop album, and besides the fact that we're supposed to respect an artist's choices, it's just great that she made a pop album, because it turned out really well and more good indie songwriters and singers should be willing to do that, since it produces good songs. To which someone responded: yeah, but not everyone likes pop. Not everyone wants to make pop songs. Actually, very few indie people like pop or want to make pop albums. Now, I don't know if I had forgotten this or just never knew, but suffice to say it came as something of a surprise. (I think I'd either just gotten lost up my butt in the course of the debate, or honestly assumed that most indie musicians secretly like pop, but the arguer was probably right.) But as I've said ad infinitum, this seems so weird to me. Pop is so pleasurable: why wouldn't you like it? Wouldn't there be something there you could like, and if there's something, why would you say you wouldn't like it? And so on. The fact is that most people seem to make this objection less on the basis of uncontrollable personal taste than on some sort of ideological notion of Pop Is Bad. It's an allergy. But unlike just not being able to like something, this is a conscious choice not to like something based not on what it is, but what it is like. And that seems just really weird to me. But supposedly this, like a lot of other ostensibly liberal attitudes, is justified because you Really Feel It, Man. But so what? Who gives a crap? And who says your idiot attitudes are Just As Valid as someone else's? Fuck that shit! If you honestly believe in critical authority, then you have to believe that you could be wrong.[1] I dunno. Maybe I'm getting too concerned with the whole thing, but it really does confuse the hell out of me. Do you not have enough time to listen to pop and indie and experimental? Pop-I and II and III? If not, why not? Be honest about your choices; be up-front about why you're thinking what you're thinking. And I feel like we'd all be better off. [1] I sure do. posted by Mike B. at 5:36 PM 0 comments
My favorite line from America's Sweetheart right now, from "But Julian..."
"I know you're dangerous What a punk You would never sell out Just like I did Playboy That was art It didn't count!" Delivery being key, but you get the idea. posted by Mike B. at 4:38 PM 0 comments
THINGS I WOULD LIKE TO DO IF I EVER BECAME A SUCCESSFUL MUSICIAN
- Write a song for Greg Dulli - Play violin with Warren Ellis - Play guitar with PJ Harvey - Produce Tori Amos - Be produced by Luke Haines - Do an album with Carla Bozulich and Nels Cline - Be produced by Kevin Shields - Play on Top of the Pops - Play the Royal Albert Hall - Write a song for Dolly Parton - Play with Willie Nelson - Have Krist Novoselic lay down accordion on a track, hang out a lot afterwards - Collaborate with Courtney Love - Tour with Sonic Youth That's all I can think of for now. I'd love if other people gave this concept a try and made their own lists, so please feel free! posted by Mike B. at 3:32 PM 0 comments
Two music nerd questions:
1) What 80's song does the opening piano riff from the Twilight Singers' "Teenage Wristband" sound like? Some Kate Bush thing? Or is it a Who song? Am I totally insane on this? 2) What song shares almost the same chord progression as the verse of Courtney's "Uncool"? I know it's something... posted by Mike B. at 11:59 AM 0 comments
Friday, February 20, 2004
I hear what Joe's saying, but...I dunno. I think at this point you just have to look at Courtney as your crazy rich grandma: you go visit her every once in a while, and you'll have to listen to her say some shit that you disagree with, and some shit that just doesn't make any sense, but at the end she'll give you $100, and the fact that she gives you that $100 makes all the blather not really an imposition, and so more charming than anything else. If you're gonna get bothered by her self-aggrandizing, rock-hero stances, you're going to have to avoid everything but the music--the newspaper stories, the interviews, the online posts, the videos, the TV apperances, etc. Because she's gonna say some shit that will just plain make you cringe. ("Do you want to see my waxed asshole?" springs most immediately to mind.) But if you listen to the music, I think it's intensely rewarding; it's far, far more subtle and ambiguous and nuanced and smart. Yes, the video comes off like a vapid gansta-rap slam (although might I point out that gangsta-rap gets slammed in not a few hip-hop videos these days), but when you listen to the album, all the hip-hop commentary she works in is really smart and a lot less reactionary.
I still need to do my full America's Sweetheart post, but for now, let me just say this: I'd like to see Courtney play with her persona even more. Specifically, I think she should use that air of danger and craziness she's cultivated (or, uh, generated without trying, I suppose) and use it to make the songs more present. She does this quite effectively in "But Julian..." for instance. I mean, you look at 50 Cent or Swedish death metal or George Jones, and one of the things about their songs is that you believe them a lot more. You believe that 50 might shoot you, or that George might get drunk and roll down a hill. Similarly, when Courtney sings about slashing tires on "Mono," well, it doesn't seem all that far-fetched. This is, after all, a woman who not a few people believe murdered (or paid for the murder of) her husband. Not true, as far as I'm concerned, but a great thing to work into the music more. Her cockiness is very charming to me. posted by Mike B. at 11:26 AM 0 comments
Thursday, February 19, 2004
Severed Heads is currently putting up bonus tracks for free download. You can find them here. However, you need to enter a password to unzip them. How do you get this password? Tom Ellard explains:
This is 'helloware'. If you write and say hello, I give the pass. This reminds people that music comes from people and not out of a plastic tray with shrink wrap. Does that not seems a good DRM :-)? I kinda like that. posted by Mike B. at 6:18 PM 0 comments
"Could it be possible that popular music's capacity for innovation and expansion is actually infinite?"
YES!!!!!!!! IT IS, GODDAMN IT!!!!! posted by Mike B. at 4:02 PM 0 comments
It's kind of weird to read about Woebot and Simon having backlogs of stuff to listen to. I mean, it only takes you 3 minutes to listen to a song, and 30 minutes at most to listen to an album enough to know whether or not you're going to like it. Unless you have a job where you can't listen to music, and I'm guessing neither of those guys do, there's nothing stopping you from listening to 20 albums a day. Sure, you might need more time to give stuff a really close listening, but for me, the problem is far more one of acquisition--finding the time to download the stuff off soulseek or finding the money to buy more stuff from the store.
I'm just saying that stacks of music aren't much of a problem, especially compared to books. Takes me at least a week to get through a book, and that's when I'm being really dedicated. Ah well. posted by Mike B. at 4:00 PM 0 comments
This is hipster-baiting? Oops. It's just the stuff I say normally. I even left a mailing list once because of an argument stemming from me making basically that statement about Interpol.
I think I am gonna say that S-K/wah-wah thing sometime, but I don't know how I could deliver the line so that it came out anything other than funny. Maybe this is just because people know the depths of my loathing of S-K, though. posted by Mike B. at 12:16 PM 0 comments
I was in a gay bar in Brooklyn last night and thinking on this thing about a "douchebag of hipsters," when a whole coterie of lesbians walked in. I turned to my companion (a girl who likes girls herself) and asked what you would call a large group of lesbians--a gaggle? A flock?
Without blinking an eye, she answered: "A rugby team." Zing! Be sure to use that one next time you're in P-Town. posted by Mike B. at 11:29 AM 0 comments
Tuesday, February 17, 2004
Kee-rist. Alright, now that that particular pit of hell is, if not actually overcome, abandoned for the day, let's get back to this business.
As I was saying below, I want to address one of the big themes of Momus' critique: the idea of LIT as a "betrayal" of a specific subculture. (I have no idea which subculture this would actually be aside from, I dunno, the people that read Giant Robot, which I didn't think was really a cohesive subculture, but I'm happy to grant that this is probably just my own ignorance and take him at his word.)[1] The idea of art-as-betrayal is something I'm actually really interested in. I think, though, that the angle I'm concerned with is different from the one most people are coming at it from. See, for me, what's really interesting is art as self-betrayal, in the way that market and critical and peer pressures can get you to betray your own interests or beliefs. I won't deny that there are certainly some interesting examples of art that's a personal betrayal of someone else; it's most obvious in documentaries, where you have to gain the trust of a subject often in order to tear that subject down, but there's also the slightly more common, if less obvious, case of a fiction or non-fiction writer "stealing" the characters or life experiences of people they know and depicting them in an either honest or twisted way--either one is likely to cause offense. But to me, what's really interesting is the way that making art in a larger cultural context--as almost all art is--can shape the choices you make about the creation of the art-object. But anyway, the point is that I don't think Momus is getting at either of those methods of "betrayal," since Sofia Coppola didn't seem to have any particular relationship with the subculture in question; you can only betray something if you've gained its trust first. No, all the examples of betrayal he gives (Kill Bill, late-period Radiohead) are just appropriation, except it's appropriation by auteurs instead of blindly commercial forces, so it lapses into familiar "sellout!" territory. In which case, of course, I think the matter is easy to address. It's safe to say that by 2003 exported Japanese culture, and its Western appreciation thereof, was hardly trying to hide itself in the same way that subcultures like punk or anti-corporatism or jazz were. When these cultures shout "sell-out," it's still annoying to popists like moi, but it at least has some basis in legitimacy: they genuinely seemed like they didn't want to be co-opted. But the subculture Momus is dealing with has done little but aim for mass-cult awareness for a good while now. If you want to blame something for selling out this particular subset, blame Pokemon, or Sailor Moon, or Hello Kittie. Don't blame an indie film. But what about the larger point of Lost In Translation being sort of disrespectful to Japanese culture, regardless of its current subcultural status or lack thereof? Keep in mind the points made below that Japan is not exactly a powerless culture in need of protection by cultural-capital-wielding Western critics, and that by any standard Momus is just not making a coherent political objection here. I think that latter point is particularly key. You can certainly accuse Coppola of having flat supporting characters without making this an indictment of her insensitivity; lots of directors have flat supporting characters without this being culturally incorrect. And it's especially important to keep in mind that the two main characters are undeniably very real.[2] I don't think Momus is denying that both Murray's and Johansson's characters are very realistic, very indicative of what a certain kind of American tourist in Japan is like. So let's grant that, and let's admit that neither of the characters necessarily come off as very good people, and that, very importantly, these defects in their characters are demonstrably caused by their American lives. Coppola clearly goes out of her way to show that both Murray's and Johansson's problems are the result of deteriorating relationships with their spouses, deteriorating relationships that they have no small part in causing--certainly Johansson's feckless distancing would be legitimately frustrating to deal with. Once you grant those two things, and it seems like you'd have to, I think you have to admit that these insensitivities flow not from Coppola's cultural ignorance or audience pandering but from the ignorance and state of mind of the two main characters. I think, rightly or wrongly, that this really is how a lot of Americans view Japan as visitors. The two main characters, both clearly bohemians of one generation or another, seem to have the same distrust of and disorientation caused by Japanese pop culture as American pop culture. They are not strangers in a strange land, but the over-educated in a slightly unfamiliar place, and so they deal with it by joking about it, just like they deal with everything else, and by being slightly creeped out by all the pop culture. We wouldn't think this odd if they were visiting Branson, MO--why is it weird when they're in Japan? In other words, I think that if you're going to criticize something, it's not the movie, which seems realistic enough to me, but the attitude it's depicting. I don't think Coppola should shoulder the blame for smug hipsters. This is all circling around a variant of my original point: a movie in which the characters were sensitive to the subtleties of Japanese culture would have been nowhere near as funny, and my allegiance has always been to comedy, not sensitivity. If something is offensive enough that you don't find it funny, then yeah, we can talk, but if you're going to admit, as Momus does, that "I chuckled along with the audience" before going on to explain just what was so wrong about his own laughter, well, I just don't think we have a good shared platform for debate here. Reading back over the line I originally plucked out of the essay--"I squirmed. Does Murray's charisma have to come at the expense of someone else all the time?"--the verb choice really stands out to me. When I hear that he "squirmed," I can't help but think (and a certain subset of clap clap readers already know where I'm going with this) of the "squirming" of David Foster Wallace, especially in his first-person non-fiction essays. But I think the way Wallace uses it is demonstrative. True, he will often take that squirm and use it as a clue to try and figure out why he squirmed, but he will also try and determine whether or not the squirm is, in fact, legitimate, and will either defend it or admit certain reasons why you could see it as illegitimate. Momus does neither, and I think that's a problem. Finally, a note about my brief comment bringing Momus' artistic corpus into the discussion: I honestly didn't mean to imply that his use of offensiveness made his viewpoint illegitimate. I simply wanted to point out how weird it was for someone who seems fine with a certain form of cultural insensitivity getting worked up about another. But, I suppose, we all do this. So it goes. But it still strikes me as weird in this particular case. Nothing more than that. [1] Upon rereading this, I also wonder if he means to actually implicate Japanese-Americans or Japanese immagrants to America in this subculture, but I honestly can't tell. I'm not sure if this would change anything, though. [2] I would say that some of the supporting characters are very real, too--we all know people who seem pretty stereotypical if we don't know them very well, and I think the photographer character is a prime example of that. posted by Mike B. at 7:19 PM 0 comments
I found it a little hard to take Momus' criticism of Lost in Translation seriously right about the time I read the following line:
"I squirmed. Does Murray's charisma have to come at the expense of someone else all the time?" Someone saying this while talking about a comedy--to say nothing of the fact that he's wrong, since even aside from any concrete examples it's clear Murray's character's humor comes from a lot of self-loathing--is clearly putting ideology over art, and seeing as how Momus isn't actually arguing from any defensible political position, just a vague don't-sell-us-out-man grandstanding, it hardly even seems worth considering. This is what comedy is, hon, making fun of other people; it's the responsibility of people in a comedy to fire back. You could make the argument that since the cook doesn't speak English, he can't fire back, but a) that means he's not actually offended, since he doesn't know he's being made fun of (and isn't "Why the straight face?" as much a joke about Murray's character's own ignorance as anything else?), and b) I dunno about Momus, but here in New York, I know for damn sure I get made fun of in Spanish or Korean or Russian at least three times a day, and it doesn't particularly bother me. This is to say nothing about the whole stupid "betrayal" issue, but more on that later. Also: this is Japan we're talking about here, not Nigeria or Palestine or something. It's a powerful country, capable of withstanding a Sofia Coppola movie. Do purveyors of anti-American films have to defend their anti-Americanism? And isn't their anti-Americanism a whole lot more virulent than any perceived anti-Japanism in LIT? This matters: when you're talking about issues of exploitation, the power relationship matters. And I think Japan's culture is strong enough (it's clearly the third or fourth most powerful in the world, seems to me) to deal with Bill Murray joking around with old ladies. I promise. Also also: this is a man who wrote a song called "Coming In a Girl's Mouth" and he's offended by someone making a joke about a toe being sushi?!?! Are you fucking serious?!?! UPDATE: On the subject of the particular irony of Momus making this argument, I might point out that that the headline of the page for one of his albums is "Prease Enjoy Anarog Baloque!", total Engrish if I ever read it. So clearly he's not saying "no one should ever poke fun at silly Japanese things," he's saying "Sofia Coppola should not poke fun at silly Japanese things," and that's a far weaker argument. More on that soon. posted by Mike B. at 8:57 AM 0 comments
Monday, February 16, 2004
Guys, this is just sad.
One well-known writer admitted privately — and gleefully — to anonymously criticizing a more prominent novelist who he felt had unfairly reaped critical praise for years. She regularly posts responses, or at least he thinks it is her, but the elegant rebuttals of his reviews are also written from behind a pseudonym. I mean, hopefully you'd have fans eager enough and articulate enough to defend a book that the author wouldn't have to go onto Amazon and do it themselves, you know? You don't see musicians doing this. Although maybe this is simply an outgrowth of the semi-obsessive logorrhea of writers, where they feel they know their work best and can't help but respond. Well, at any rate, it's still pretty sad. Not to mention lame! At least get these pissing matches out in the open where we the readers can be entertained by them, too! posted by Mike B. at 11:47 AM 0 comments
Speaking of Northrop Frye--and when are we not speaking of Northrop Frye, oho--is the Norton Anthology of Criticism worth getting if I can get it cheeeep? Since I don't have access to a college library anymore but I'm still a theory nerd, it might be nice to have access to at least little bits of all those folks. I mean, I still have a pretty good collection of theory books, but there's definitely big gaps, and who knows, maybe I might actually want to quote some Lacan someday when I've lost about 100 IQ points.
Hey, I'm just jokin' Jacques, you're alright. (It would be funny to have Rodney Dangerfield do a whole routine about literary critics, although maybe the fact that I think this simply indicates that I need to go back to bed.) (Or write a book proposal. Ca-ching!) posted by Mike B. at 11:43 AM 0 comments
Earlier tonight I was listening to Eminem's "Without Me" and folks were talking about how they like Eminem, and the bit comes on when he sings the Batman theme, which I've always been pleased to note he actually gave up a percentage of the publishing for doing, and I thought about it for a second--the idea of sampling a bit of familiar music by singing it instead of playing back a previously-recorded version of it. It's far from original with Eminem, of course, and while it works--especially when he places it in that particular symbolic/referential context, which is one of the things he's best at--it is, in its way, the hip-hop equivalent of an ocarina solo, or having a key change in the last chorus, or any old pop song arrangement technique. (To say nothing of its roots in "quoting" other songs in the midst of jazz solos, but let's not give him too much credit.) To my ears, its content references so overwhelm its technique references that you really only think of the Batman theme when you hear it, not previous vocal samplers. But I think it's not just that it's OK that the technique isn't original with him, I think it's actually better.
And this made me sort of realize something about my musical temperment: what's good to me about someone coming up with a new sound or technique or instrument or idea isn't the new thing itself--this intrigues me, but rarely excites me. What's exciting is the thought that in a while people will figure out how to use it so well that they can combine it with all the old things to make more great songs. In other words, I'm not excited about something simply because it's new, I'm excited about it because it'll one day be good, and I don't stop being interested when it stops being new--indeed, I think I get more interested. In a way, it makes sense that I would come upon this line of thinking when dealing with hip-hop. After all, that seems like the place where it's most obvious how much development of something new can do for the quality of the thing. As many great things as there were about old-school hip-hop, I think you can't deny that MC'ing today is just far, far superior to MC'ing 20 years ago, to say nothing of production. Hip-hop was great, but what was really great was that it put all these additional things into play that you could use in a song. I think it's rare that an idea really is best soon after its inception; if this is the case, it's either a dud/overused genre/idea, or what follows is simply less good imitations. Now, there are some people whose musical values say that this is the case with almost every new musical idea, that it all becomes either overused or badly imitated. And I'll reconize that this is a legitimate, albeit annoying, stance. For instance, I'm currently listening to This Moment In Black History[1], about whom many people have taken this particular stance. I guess they sound new. Not to me, but to some people. (Or maybe they sound like another iteration of a far-from-tapped idea? Hmm.) And so this is good. But for me, I think that it takes a long time to milk all the utility from a musical trope, and so what really excites me about the new is seeing where it goes, seeing what people will do with it. And so I'm actually more bored when it's new when it's not. [1] Who have a song called "The Last Unicorn." What the fuck is it with these heavy bands and all the unicorn imagery lately? I mean, Lightning Bolt, Neon Hunk, Friends Forever...er, well maybe it's just a Load thing. posted by Mike B. at 2:40 AM 0 comments
Mono video. Enjoi.
Also: commentary. Also also: that was awesome! posted by Mike B. at 12:03 AM 0 comments
Friday, February 13, 2004
Sort-of abstract to this which for some reason I didn't include:
- What we think of as "political songs" are really ideological songs. - What we think of as "political humor" is really apolitical humor. Oh, and political songs need to be ambiguous because it's a more accurate portrayal of the political process in a single statement than would be otherwise. posted by Mike B. at 10:58 AM 0 comments
Thursday, February 12, 2004
Quo Vadimus (on figh-uh lately, by the way) posted a link to this Chris Rock article a while back. It's a great little piece, albeit mainly because it contains a sort of unjustifiably large number of selections from Rock's current stand-up set.
But I've wanted to comment on this bit for a while: But the beauty of his comedy and the reason he is pop is that though a tough moral streak runs through his comedy, Mr. Rock remains steadfastly nonpartisan. The problem with this stance--and you don't have to watch too many late-night monologues to know how widespread it is, Leno's wink-wink emergence as a de facto crypto-fascist notwithstanding--is that, practical though it may be, it's pretty antithetical to the whole idea of comedy; if anything, it tends toward nihilism, and even more than tragedy, this is what comedy diametrically opposes. Comedy is about breaking through what's currently existing, about opening up possibilities without regard for self-interest necessarily. It's not a wholly good thing by any means: sometimes what's currently there is worth preserving. But I think if you are a comedian, you should be a little more conscious of this idea. It's certainly not true that taking a political stance is anti-pop. Being populist doesn't mean trying to appeal to everyone; indeed, as a political term, it actually means appealing to a very particular element of society, the working poor. Even in art, it doesn't mean what the author's implying here. Britney's first album didn't appeal to anyone above the age of 16, and yet you'd certainly call that pop. Moreover, choices it could have made to appeal to a broader demographic were deliberately avoided. I'm not saying that Rock avoids making somewhat controversial statements, but the whole formulation of the argument there--that expressing your political beliefs is a betrayal of your pop impulses, a view you'd certainly expect me to be sympathetic to if true--just isn't accurate. If I were to translate Rock's "career suicide" statement, it would go something like this: "Look, I'm really pretty much a party-line Democrat, like the majority of African-Americans, but I can't admit that, because the country's in such a conservative mood right now, and enough people who control the media outlets I need access to are conservative that it just doesn't seem worth the risk to come out as a Democrat when I could continue to do what I'm doing now, i.e. working some of my political beliefs into the act, but also using politics as a source for jokes about personalities in the same way I use other celebrities and ignoring the political content." I mean, come on, making Clinton jokes hardly disqualifies you from being a Democrat. I'm not saying his stance isn't useful, but it's not really true to the idea of comedy. And I think he's overlooking a few other options here. For instance, let's look at this quote: "Look at Bill Cosby. Look at Dick Gregory. As far as who's the bigger activist, who?s got more stuff done." Mr. Rock cupped his hands around his mouth and whispered, "Bill Cosby." Then he said, "That's how you do it. Do I want to march down 125th Street or do I want to put myself in a position to give Tuskegee [University] $40 million? That's where it's at. That's the real gangster shit. That's the real activism." Now, on the one hand, I can't deny the wisdom of his statement. 99% of the time, having the power of the purse is more politically effective than speaking out, to say nothing of the positive social changes Cosby arguably brought about through his work. (Normalizing blacks as middle class, etc., you know the spiel by now.) But on the other hand, I'm not sure that Bill Cosby and Dick Gregory are your only two choices here. For one thing, there are a lot more people in Gregory's position than Cosby's; I'm sure that young black activists would love to be able to set up scholarship funds, but they can't, and it's ultimately the luck of the draw as to whether they can get to the point where they can. There's certainly no evidence that Gregory would have gotten to Cosby's point if only he'd kept his fool mouth shut, and that granted, what are all the people who know they'll never get to that donate-$40-million level supposed to do? Continue to avoid taking political stances and just hope? That doesn't seem very useful. Now, admittedly, since the fact is that Rock himself is pretty close to that Cosby level, maybe there is a good argument to be made for him continuing along that path. But it hardly follows, as the author seems to want to conclude, that this is the path for every comic. But more importantly, I think there's a clear option or two or three for political comedy beyond the models suggested by Gregory's complaining-about-things-and-marching-in-the-street and Cosby's middle-of-the-road social critique. For one thing, it's important to realize that neither one is, in fact, actually comedic. The Gregory model--which, since I don't want to get tied up in issues of how much Gregory actually conforms to this model, I'll call the "ideological model"--explicitly places the joke-teller outside of the joke, failing to implicate the source in the issue being addressed most of the time, and when you're standing outside the carnival looking in, you're not being comedic, you're simply an observer. It is a bad joke; it is not comedic. The Cosby model, on the other hand--the late night, "pox on both your houses" Romeo & Juliet model--by saying, as Rock does, that everyone's stupid (except me, and maybe my audience) shuts down all hope for change, assumes all is corrupt and debased and that this is bad and not even worth dealing with; your job is simply to sit outside it and throw up your hands in exasperation. By explicitly denying avenues for change, it's not comedic, it's tragic. So what would a truly comedic political humor be like? For one thing, it would refuse to sit outside. If you'll permit me to be really pretentious and quote Mikhail Bakhtin: Let us enlarge upon the second important trait of the people's festive laughter: that it is also directed at those who laugh. The people do not exclude themselves from the wholeness of the world. They, too, are incomplete, they also die and are revived and renewed. This is one of the essential differences of the people's festive laughter from the pure satire of modern times. The satirist whose laughter is negative places himself above the object of his mockery, he is opposed to it. The wholeness of the world's comic aspect is destroyed, and that which appears comic becomes a private reaction. The people's ambivalent laughter, on the other hand, expresses the point of view of the whole world; he who is laughing also belongs to it. When humor sits outside, it provides its audiences with the illusion that they're outside, too. You don't have to provide them that luxury, no matter how undeniably comforting it might be. By implicating yourself in a comedic critique, you present a far more honest picture of almost any issue. In addition, you should feel free to take sides, but more importantly, you shouldn't be afraid to take different positions--truly take them--over time. This sort of deliberate irony will let you fully appreciate the value of both approaches, and you can both mine a lot of comedy and a lot of insights from the process of uninhibitingly setting the two against each other. The joke-to-joke seesaw from one viewpoint to the other ("Today, President Bush mispronounced something! Also, John Kerry's hair looks weird!") may come off as more intelligent--you're too smart to be duped by either side--but it's ultimately less valuable, because it presents both as essentially invalid when we know that's not the case. (Or, at least, I hope we know that.) You don't have to be so self-involved, so concerned with being right, that you miss the opportunity for a good joke. Don't get me wrong--I'm not saying that either the ideological or R&J model are bad ones. I'm just saying they're not comedic, and they're not really political, either. They're just jokes. And that's OK, but presumably there are some comics who might want something more. But while we're talking about political humor, let's move on to political songs, shall we? From Chuck Eddy's P&J comments: A more politically correct blip in my ballot is that, for the first time in ages, I suddenly seem to love protest songs. Maybe I just read the newspaper more this year, I dunno. It was hard not to, and it was hard not to take pre-emptive quagmire and Constitution dismantling personally, plus what used to be paranoid wacko conspiracy theories now seem like good common sense, so maybe topical songs just hit me harder because of that. But I'd argue the three explicit anti-war demonstrations (Panjabi MC with Jay-Z, Living Things, Man in Gray) and one explicit illegal-immigrant statement (Molotov, whose Mexican-American audience may well now vote Republican next year) on my list might be just more evidence that the Left is finally getting intestinal fortitude; ditto Merle Haggard's "That's the News," which I almost voted for as well. These records still all come off kinda muddled and confused, in a way, but then so do Clark and Dean and Edwards and Kucinich, and I'd vote for any of them too, you know? Before we start, let me note that I don't want to single Eddy out here--it's just a close-at-hand intro to the topic. But really, that whole bent to this year's P&J comments rubbed me the wrong way. Let me try and explain why, in addition to talking in general about the problem with "political music." Partially, the problem is that these folks--critics and musicians alike, but mostly musicians--just don't know enough about politics. Now, don't get me wrong; while I've certainly said before that political elitism, unlike artistic elitism, is sometimes justifiable and certainly wholly within American and liberal ("in the classical sense") political values, that's not really what I'm advocating here. I'm not saying that these people should shut up, because they shouldn't; good for them for participating in the discourse, although a pat on the head is really all I'm willing to grant. And neither am I saying that no musician or comedian could ever know anything about politics, since not only are there a good few who do pull this off (George Carlin, John Stewart, etc.), but I myself have managed to learn both the guitar and at least enough about politics to discuss it without looking like a moron (or I hope so, anyway), which is partially why I'm so annoyed by this stuff--I know it COULD be better if people really wanted to be. It's problematic because they look like idiots, and when you look like an idiot, people are far less likely to take you seriously. And this should not be so forgivable. Sure, Eddy gets the same muddled message from Panjabi MC as from Howard Dean, but Dean's trying to appeal to a wide swath of the electorate, not express his own personal viewpoint, which theoretically is a lyricist's whole reason for existing. The sad bit about lame-ass "political" songs is not their ineffectiveness, but their incoherence. A national politician has a good excuse for being vague and strategically dumb; a musician has none, unless s/he's being overly careerist, in the Chris Rock mold. And that would certainly seem to be indefensible to someone who cares about politics. (Although if done well--Eminem's undeniably careerist artistic/political participation in the mini-culture war surrounding the first three albums was masterful--I can certainly find it very interesting.) But I don't think this is regarded as political speech by most people anyway. Britney saying "I support the President" seems like a more commercial than strictly political speech act. No, it's the straight policy statements and ideological critiques in art form ("Politics are back! In art form") that are generally regarded as political speech, and lord, they're dumb. Find me ten statements from political songs that are anywhere near as coherent, informed, or relevant as a run-of-the-mill NYT editorial and I'll give you a cookie. Now, I'm certainly enough of a musicologist to admit that it's often the force of the words and their delivery more than the lyrics themselves that makes the political point, but the problem is that if you admit this, i.e. that non-verbal music itself can make a political statement, then you're opening up a whole can of worms that I'm not sure most proponents of "political music" are interested in having an honest discussion about; sure, they'll pretend like they can hear the anti-corporate rhetoric in an instrumental Godspeed song, but really I'm not sure they want to grant that something without any of the "I'm political!" signifiers like angry lyrics or socially conscious packaging and presentation can have political content. Even if they do, I think it's going to miss all the ambiguities in something that might not necessarily conform to a radical agenda. And ambiguities is a big part of what politics is about, for better or for worse. This is way too big a subject to deal with right now, so I'm going to let it lie. (You could do worse than see my LCD Soundsystem post for a rough overview of the messages you can convey musically.) But I think a bigger problem with most people's understanding of politics and how this gets into music is that they think politics revolves around certain issues or ideas, like war and environmentalism and women's rights. But it doesn't. Anything can become the subject of politics: a boy from Cuba, cows, cell phones, ATMs, etc. Because politics has become all-pervasive, to say that a song about the President is political while a song about driving a truck is not is simply ludicrous, and arguably the Bush song is closer to the politically personal relationship love song stuff that we'd reflexively think of as anti-political. (How different is "I hate you for your foreign policy" from "Did she go down on you in a theater?" anyway?) Politics is a process, not a monologue about abortion or racism or any subject at all. And so if you want to write a political song--and by all means, do--you don't need to state your position on and/or justification for a particular issue that could be voted on by Congress. You just need to introduce that positional ambiguity that's missing from so many songs, which either seem intentionally obscurest or annoyingly single-minded. Take a position, give the opposition, play around with it for a while. I'm going to stop talking about this now, because during a short break I realized it's actually one of the subjects nearest and dearest to my heart, and I'm not sure how good of a job this post is doing of representing it; I'm beginning to suspect "not much" may be the answer. In a way, there's too much to get into and not enough time and not enough coherence. So there it is, for now. Maybe more later. posted by Mike B. at 6:20 PM 0 comments
I suppose this deserves a substantive response--we already started discussing it in the comments here--but I don't think I have the energy right now. Still, let me address two points.
First off, Dominic writes in comments: However, I wouldn't lose any sleep over receiving insults from clap clap readers. I'd take turbo-charged over bland and over-easy any day of the week. "It's all just music, man." "The field's too big to survey and sort, man." "Who am I to judge, man, and who are you." People unable to take sides, horizontally and vertically. Some of this is, of course, a matter of opinion--I suppose you could say I'm unable to take sides, although Pitchfork might disagree there--but I think some of the attitudes ascribed to me are just clearly inaccurate. Mainly, I never said a thing about "who are you." There was no "you" in any of my poptimism replies. For instance, here I say: "it doesn't matter because we don't care. This statement only matters if you care if 2003 was better than 2002, and the people whose critical philosophy generally seems to run parallel to mine just don't give a rat's ass about that as far as I can tell." You'll notice there's no "you" there, just "we." I wasn't saying that no one could possibly ever make an intelligible yearly survey of pop or have some sort of understanding of the field. I was just saying that criticizing "poptimists" for saying pop is good when 2003 sucked is just invalid, outside the field of our reference, because we don't care, we're not list-makers or surveyors or rankers. You can be, and more power to you. But we're not, so it's unlikely that telling us some arbitrarily determined period of time hasn't contained a sufficient amount of good pop will make us any less enthusiastic about music. And I still don't feel particularly bad about that. Secondly, I'll grant that one problem with this stance is that a lot of the best new music--even if it's just regurgitations of old music--comes from people who really truly think that "all music sucks now." If they think so to such a degree that they have to remedy it themselves, if it bothers them so much that they're compelled to go out and do something better just to give themselves something to listen to, this can be a great motivator of creativity. This is true. (A bit stupid sometimes, but still true.) So if anyone was worried about it, I just want to reassure them: I feel this way. Sort of. Oh, don't get me wrong--I really am excited about new music right now. I have three mix CDs of mostly new stuff, along with at least 5 other recently-released CDs, and I can hardly decide which one to listen to in the morning. But this doesn't mean that I don't think they all suck and I could beat them all in a heartbeat. Just because I like all this music doesn't mean that I don't think the music I make, or could make, is a billion times better. You could certainly disagree about this, but--how to put this?--you're wrong. I am so much better than everyone else out there right now that it's not even funny. So don't worry about poptimism squashing creativity--there are still lots of people cocky enough to love music but love their own music much, much more. posted by Mike B. at 4:36 PM 0 comments
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
Sorry no posts today--got busy. Maybe some before the end of the day depending on how the ass-riding (ha ha) goes. Definitely some major ones tomorrow, most probably on "political humor" and "political songs." Check back then. posted by Mike B. at 4:55 PM 0 comments
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
Man, Chuck Eddy's ballot is so hip.
Just joshin'. He did pick a song from one of my fav NYC bands, Man In Gray, as his 7th-best single of the year, so I got no complaints. Rockin'! (Not to mention a song from John Morton's Lyacon Pictus group...) Also, here's Klosterman's ballot. UPDATE: Eddy's comments, which include the astute line: And as for Sherman [his son], it's pretty obvious that one reason he finds the Fountains of Wayne video more sexist than Lil Jon and 50 Cent vids is because "Stacy's Mom" and the depiction thereof shock him *more*, not less, than the rap guys-- because, for one thing, FoW hit closer to home. The video is *set* in the suburbs. And it features a young teen kid lusting over a *mom*. Gross, right? Whereas with 50 Cent et. al, Sherman can keep a distance --- in a way that many of the black 12-year-olds that T. Coates and N. Drumming referred to can't. posted by Mike B. at 5:50 PM 0 comments
I had a Very 90's Lunch, buying both the Probot album and the Courtney album. I listened to about half of the latter on my way back to the office. First impression: it's good, and it's loud. Nothing's really grabbed me yet, and the first ballad, "Hold On To Me," a) isn't as good as "Malibu" or "Dying," and b) has a chorus that reminds me in a very insistent way of some other chorus of some other song and I can't think of what it is for the life of me.
"Mono" sounds way, way better than it did as a download--just really fucking loud. I really like "Sunset Strip" and bits of "But Julian..." More later if it merits it. posted by Mike B. at 4:26 PM 0 comments
Since we're linking insults, in this k-punk thread which linked to my post linking to this k-punk post responding to this Flyboy post responding to k-punk's response to Marcello's 1985 thing...in that thread (whoops, forgot what I was saying) my readers get compared to a poem by the author of Cats or something. Which seems like a good thing, right? But I think he means it in a mean way. On the bright side, though, it apparently means I've staked out a clear critical position, so that's nice. But just to fuck with people, maybe I'll just review pudding for 2 weeks. I probably won't, though I wouldn't mind eating a lot of pudding.
UPDATE: I have to go eat some pudding now. posted by Mike B. at 4:15 PM 0 comments
I'm sure this'll be up everywhere in a sec, but for now: P&J results!
ALBUMS 1 OutKast Speakerboxxx/The Love Below (Arista) 2 The White Stripes Elephant (V2) 3 Fountains of Wayne Welcome Interstate Managers (S-Curve) 4 Radiohead Hail to the Thief (Capitol) 5 Yeah Yeah Yeahs Fever to Tell (Interscope) 6 The Shins Chutes Too Narrow (Sub Pop) 7 New Pornographers Electric Version (Matador) 8 Basement Jaxx Kish Kash (Astralwerks) 9 Drive-By Truckers Decoration Day (New West) 10 Dizzee Rascal Boy in Da Corner (XL import) SINGLES 1 OutKast "Hey Ya!" (Arista) 2 Beyoncé featuring Jay-Z "Crazy in Love" (Columbia) 3 The White Stripes "Seven Nation Army" (Third Man/V2) 4 Kelis "Milkshake" (Star Trak/Arista) 5 50 Cent "In Da Club" (G-Unit/Shady/Aftermath/Interscope) 6 Johnny Cash "Hurt" (Universal) 7 Fountains of Wayne "Stacy's Mom" (S-Curve/Virgin) 8 R. Kelly "Ignition-Remix" (Jive) 9 Junior Senior "Move Your Feet" (Atlantic) 10 Panjabi MC featuring Jay-Z "Beware of the Boys (Mundian To Bach Ke)" (Sequence) Fountains of Wayne! New Pornogaphers! YYY! Basement Jaxx! Albums turned out a lot better than I expected. Singles ain't too bad either... UPDATE: The website's up now, if you tried it before and couldn't get through, and Fluxblog has a roundup. I got two comments in, which I am still young enough to be kind of giddy about. I also swear I see some people I went to college with in there, but maybe I'm just going crazy. Of people Flux didn't mention, I noticed Courtney-in-RS-reviewer Rob Sheffield, frequent Sasha correspondent Joshua Clover (whose Klosterman snark I'm not even gonna touch), Julianne Shepherd of Cowboyz 'n' Poodles (I think), and Amanda Petrusich of Pitchfork. That's just comments--lots more in the ballots. Here, for instance, is Jascha Hoffman's hilariously Pitchfork-y ballot. Hey, maybe Ryan will respond to my letters now! Hee hee hee. Anyway, here's my ballot. More obsessive analysis as the week wears on, probably. posted by Mike B. at 11:29 AM 0 comments
Monday, February 09, 2004
The comments to this Woebot post (yes, yes, poptimism again, I know) have finally prodded me to make a post I've been meaning to make for a while...
This area is a minefield. You do what I would tend to do and equate Pop with chart music. I think other people involved in the debate thihk of Pop much more broadly. That's one source of misunderstanding; one of many! :-) Luckily, I can sort it all out.[1] This is indeed a problem for our little conversations here; I think it's clear by now that when Tom says "pop," he's thinking of something different than when Simon says "pop," and all of these are different from when the NME or the Grammy committee says "pop." We need some way to resolve this. On the one hand, it's understandable that everyone's conception of genre is going to be slightly different, partially because of their original entry point into the genre (someone who came to industrial via Nine Inch Nails is going to have a different idea of what "industrial" sounds like than someone who came to it via Throbbing Gristle, for instance), partially because of value judgments people associate with the genre ("Nirvana's not pop! They're way too real!" "The Offspring are so not punk! They suck!"), along with various other factors that might cause two people to slot a group into two very different areas; if nothing else, Simon's prog survey is evidence of this. And this is valuable, and is the source of a lot of delightful arguments. As long as people sort of acknowledge this--"Well, I don't think Dizzee Rascal is hip-hop, but that's because of blah blah blah"--it's perfectly fine, and not really that confusing. But the problem is that "pop" isn't like industrial or punk or ambient or salsa: it's a high-level genre that rarely contains a song that isn't also wholly contained within another genre. Thus, electronic pop, R&B pop, rap-pop, pop-rock, folk-pop, pop-country, etc., etc., etc. And it means a number of different things. So we need something to differentiate exactly which conception of pop we're talking about. And that's why I made this handy classification guide! Pop-as-market-phenomenon. Chart pop. Any song or album--but not artist--that makes it onto the charts, "the charts" here generally regarded as being the Billboard Hot 100 singles and top 200 albums in America and whatever weird definition you Brits and Europeans and Japanese use that's the equivalent. Generally regarded as widening to include an album which includes a chart single but which itself is not on the chart, unless the sound of the non-charting songs differs significantly from the sound of the single. A very strict, mathematical formulation: anything that's popular is pop. Can be widened to Pop-I.5, or what Pitchfork is currently calling "Uncharted Pop:" music that sounds like the current pop sound but is not actually, for whatever reason, on the charts. So, by this definition: Britney Spears is pop-I. Magnetic Fields is not pop-I. Folk Implosion's "Natural One" is pop-I but the album from which it came is not. Yo La Tengo's "Nuclear War" EP is pop-I. MPath[2] is pop-I.5 but not pop-I. Boston's first album is pop-I; their last is not. Basement Jaxx is pop-I in Europe but is not pop-I in America. Guns 'n' Roses is pop-I. A Guns 'n' Roses tribute band is not pop-I. A recording of Beethoven's "Eroica" symphony is not pop-I. Christian Marclay is not pop-I. Benny Goodman is pop-I. Squirrel Nut Zippers are not pop-I. Pop-as-sound. Anything that sounds like anything that's ever been pop. So when we call, say, the Rosebuds or Beat Happening "pop," despite the fact that they'd be happy to get onto the CMJ chart (which, no, doesn't count for pop-I), let alone even sniff Billboard's panties, this is what we mean: the sound, not the sales, make it pop. The pop sound it's referring to can be a pop sound that was on the charts, but it can also be anything that's just become generally popular over the years. (It does not, however, usually mean a retro sound that refers to something that was not pop; you don't hear people calling post-punk revival bands "pop" for this very reason.) It's safe to say that this conception generally runs at least 10-15 years behind what's actually popular at the time. For instance, someone today throwing in handclaps or backup vocals going "ooh," or an analogue keyboard, would be regarded as including "pop elements" (and, of course, given that it's a pop-II conception, this could be said regardless of the song's actual success or failure in the marketplace) whereas someone including a Timbaland-esque beat would be said to be including "hip-hop elements," and someone including a grunge sound would be said to be including "grunge elements" (although I've never actually heard this said about anyone, now that I think about it). This is the common usage, but it doesn't actually apply to this definition, so someone writing a song that sounds like the Neptunes would be just as pop-II as someone writing a song that sounds like the Beatles. This classification can be roughly divided into "retro," i.e. straight mimickings of past pop groups, and "poppy," which appropriates a general sound or elements of a sound that was pop at some point but can't really be pegged to anything specific or which doesn't sustain the aesthetic over the life of the project. So, by this definition: Britney Spears is pop-II. Magnetic Fields is pop-II. Folk Implosion is pop-II. Yo La Tengo's "Nuclear War" EP is not pop-II. MPath is pop-II. All of Boston's albums are pop-II. Basement Jaxx is pop-II. Guns 'n' Roses is pop-II. A Guns 'n' Roses tribute band is pop-II. A recording of Beethoven's "Eroica" symphony is not pop-II. Christian Marclay is not pop-II. Benny Goodman is pop-II. Squirrel Nut Zippers are pop-II. What musicologists and classical music folk mean when they say "pop music." Any music that is not art music. Music that is, or that can be, made by amateurs. Depending on your views on jazz, any music that is improvised in whole or in part, or (if you want to include most jazz) which does not proceed from some master plan. It's unclear where "world music" fits into this; in a conservatory, it'd be in the ethnomusicology department, but for our purposes, it's unclear where, say, African tribal music belongs. It's pretty clearly not anything we would think of as pop (obviously and perhaps unfortunately, since pop-II's definition flows from pop-I's, pop-I's should be amended to state that the charts are generally those charts in the "first world"), but it's also not anything we would think of as art music. Maybe call it "Level 0.5 Classical" or something. Needless to say, very few people who have a passing familiarity with the Smiths are ever going to be using "pop" in this sense, but it's worth throwing in there since just because those people generally aren't part of our conversations these days doesn't mean that this particular worldview of music, i.e. the music theory one, hasn't profoundly shaped the terms of the debate. So, by this definition: Britney Spears is pop-III. Magnetic Fields is pop-III. Folk Implosion is pop-III. Yo La Tengo's "Nuclear War" EP is pop-III. MPath is pop-III. All of Boston's albums are pop-III. Basement Jaxx is pop-III. Guns 'n' Roses is pop-III. A Guns 'n' Roses tribute band is pop-III. A recording of Beethoven's "Eroica" symphony is not pop-III. Christian Marclay is pop-III. John Zorn is probably pop-III. (Experimental music is where this gets tricky; ditto for highbrow electro artists like Aphex Twin and Autechre.) Benny Goodman is pop-III. Squirrel Nut Zippers are pop-III. So there you go. Of course, I don't really expect anyone to actually use this classification scheme, but I've thought a bit about it and I think these three levels are a pretty useful breakdown of the ways in which we use the term "pop." If you want to clarify, or add sub-levels (as I have with pop-I.5, for instance), feel free. I may post a revised version without the intro later. [1] This all actually comes from a nighttime conversation with Miss Clap, who said that the problem is that when I say "pop" I don't really mean "pop," I mean this thing I've decided was pop. But I thought it was still pop, just a different pop, and so we broke it on down. At any rate, assist for this goes to her. [2] A failed Florida hyper-pop band that only sold 30k records or so. posted by Mike B. at 5:28 PM 0 comments
If you haven't read Sasha's NYT Magazine piece on the Virginia Beach folks, do it now. Great stuff. posted by Mike B. at 3:49 PM 0 comments
Hee hee hee. Wow. This sounds like the kind of thing I'm going to like. Hmm--maybe what I was saying about pop's accessibility wasn't so dead-on. Or maybe that's exactly what Haines is playing with... posted by Mike B. at 2:06 PM 0 comments
Then again, I'm not so sure about this bit:
For better or for worse, the moment in pop belongs not to the Courtney Loves of the world, but to the Norah Joneses, the Josh Grobans and the American Idols. Their songs can be played in schools and in supermarkets; their promotional campaigns are engineered to be as safe and scandal-free as political ones; and their songs are so vague that no listener feels left out. Well, I feel pretty left out of Norah Jones, and a lot of people do--indeed, I think that's at the heart of the complaints that indie fucks (a term I'm using here in an entirely neutral way, mind you) have about mainstream pop. All the little bits of it, the signs and signifiers, the production and the lyrics and the drums and the guitars and the mastering, it all puts them off. Readers of this blog probably don't need me to document instances when people have ignored a great song simply because it was by an artist they distrusted, or because you could dance to it, or because you could hear the lyrics, or whatever. But it's not just 28-year-old Modest Mouse fans that have this reaction: it's 14-year-old hip-hop fans, it's 35-year-old metalheads, it's 55-year-old classical fans, it's 47-year-old avant/free-jazz fans...it's a whole lot of people. Norah Jones is not successful because she appeals to everyone, she's successful because she appeals to older people. And that's OK. But no doubt part of her very appeal to these older people is her jazz roots, and the way that they can feel like they are, in fact, not "falling for" an American Idol winner, but are instead listening responsibly to a "real musician" working in a "real genre." For almost all people, music fandom is built as much around what you won't listen to as what you will. Clay fans seem to have this weird, proto-racist anti-hip-hop thing going. Courtney fans rip on Limp Bizkit. Hell, even we popists have a tendency to loudly decry certain kinds of things--Godspeed, Bright Eyes, etc. And that's cool! But the problem is that the Courtney album is very much a pop album, because it is trying to appeal to everyone. The persona may not be, but the album very much is. That's why Linda Perry. That's why Bernie Taupin. That's why "America's Sweetheart." Pop offers you that option, the option of liking it. It doesn't put up any barriers; it is "accessible" in the best sense of the word. It's up-front and sincere, even if it's sincerely ironic. And this is why I love it. It's important to note, though, that if the option is there to love it, part of that very openness is the option to not love it, to in fact dislike it, possibly violently, and in that way help to clarify your own tastes in the way I mention above. Sometimes I think you can actually get more pleasure out of an album or artist by disliking it than by liking it, and if this is the case, then good for you. But there's also a certain pleasure in disliking something and then learning to like it; there's no believer as true as the recently converted, as they say. So I think that having American Idols and Norah Joneses around is just fine. I think there's going to be a market for the foreseeable future for the underdeveloped musical tastes of the young, and that's fine--they've gotta start somewhere. And I think it's great that the music industry has finally found a way to sell music to older listeners, music that isn't just another album by someone they like 15 years ago, if for no other reason than it keeps me employed, but also because it means that there'll then be more money to develop new bands, and because it's always nice to have music you can listen to. What I'm trying to say is that, while partially my beef is with the prejudices and allergies of listeners, it's also with musicians. This album looks so weird because it is weird--there aren't a whole lot of other rock people doing this these days, and if you don't think making accessible pop albums while simultaneously acting like a "real rebel" isn't a technique used by any number of your favorite bands, you need to revisit your history a bit. It would be nice if listeners were more open to this, and even better if critics were, but ultimately it wouldn't be so controversial if more musicians were doing it. Ah well. posted by Mike B. at 1:55 PM 0 comments
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