clap clap blog: we have moved |
HOME |
ARCHIVES |
E-mail Me: TSC | MP3
 
THE DAILY ROUTINE: Flux | Hillary | Zoilus | Jesse | Sasha F/J | PopText |  Tom B. | Popjustice | Bryan |  Anthony Recidivism | Boing | Stereo | Chris | Tiny |  Todd | DYFLY? |  Brooks |  Banana | Le Fou PUBLICATIONS I LIKE: Salon | PF | Stylus | OHINY | Gawker | Wonkette | Defame MP3BLOGS: Robots | Grammophone | Tofu | Bubblegum | Ticket | Catch | Douglas | Daughters | TTIKTDA | Byron | IHOP I SHOULD CHECK MORE OFTEN: Nate | be.jazz | Rambler | Some | Cyn | Simon | jaymc | Matos | Casper Gardner |  Keith | Marshall | No Fun | Diva | Waking | Marcello | Jakarta | A. Ross | Whatevs | Gutter RIP: NYLPM | Vadimus | Flyboy | TMFTML | Harm | Black Table |  Nick |
Monday, February 28, 2005
A co-worker just came up to me and asked, "Do you like indie? Do you have the Garden State soundtrack? Or Death Cab For Cutie? Or the Postal Service?" No, I said; I don't like that kind of indie. "What kind of indie is that?" Good question! I'd go with "folky indie," but is that even accurate? Surely we can come up with a better and/or more insulting name for it if we try. posted by Mike B. at 5:53 PM 0 comments
Hey, have you read Anthony's transcriptions of Fred Durst sex-raps yet? You should. Sample line: "Down beneath the hairy is a chocolate covered cherry..WOO! Scary! Soggy Frankenberry!" posted by Mike B. at 12:13 PM 0 comments
I'm offering this without comment, because I'm afraid "the people" would rise up and overthrow me and this blog would become naught but a parade of harangues against the state (as opposed to harangues against music critics), but I will say that it sounds so much like something Harm would write parodically that I'm sort of worried. We the HipHop community of Athens, Georgia have been fighting the media here in Athens since our re-emergence in 2000. We have been constantly misquoted, under-researched and basically neglected by the major Athens publications. The article in today's Red and Black (Feb. 24 '05) by Todd Zeigler, the assistant variety editor although good in its content just did not do Dreaded MindZ Family (DMZ Family) or the HipHop Community of Athens justice. I Montu Miller, Dreaded MindZ Family Chief Administrator will attempt to fill in the blanks and make necessary corrections to better inform the Red and Black staff as well as the students of the University of Georgia.Can someone write an "I Used To Love Her" except about undie, please? posted by Mike B. at 11:26 AM 0 comments
Friday, February 25, 2005
I'll post a bit more on the below shortly, but first I wanted to relay a sort of different perspective on this issue, from a mailing list post (which has been oddly fruitful lately, yes). It's, um, interesting. I am definitely not saying that TV is so good and so engrossing that if I watch it I won't be able to stop. TV is insidious like alcohol and many other addictive substances - eventually you stop looking at it qualitatively and it becomes part and parcel to your daily existence. I know people that don't have this problem and can moderate their TV watching, but those people are few and far between.Now, in fairness, this is coming from a David Foster Wallace mailing list, whose Infinite Jest is often misread as positing a 1:1 relation between mass media and alcohol. But it's about the universality of addiction, not the equality of all addictions. It's interesting here to note the centrality of the word "guilty." Anything we feel guilty about must be bad, right? It must not be that the guilt is misplaced, right? All guilt is true and must be acknowledged, right? Argh. posted by Mike B. at 10:48 AM 0 comments
Thursday, February 24, 2005
As usual, I got a lot of enjoyment out of Heather's I Like To Watch column this week, but the intro and outro she's gone with this time around struck me. It's not necessarily different in tone from stuff she's done previously, but never has she been quite this explicit in presenting television as a sort of decadent distraction from our own degredation before an inevitable downfall. I used to be unsure how much of this should be taken at face value, but from posts on her blog, which tend towards the super-bleak, I think at the very least she's serious about the idea that the modern world is corrupt in some ways, but accepting of this as well, and adament in her stance that it's better to deal with it than to complain about it, while never shying away from it as a reality, as a fact. And yet the tone of her Salon columns is inevitably cheery, grinning, affable--Falstaffian, you might say. While it does take TV seriously, engaging with it on its own terms, it also holds steady in the view of television as being the repository of our most self-indulgent impulses, as exhibit A in all the ways we've all fucked up, which is, of course, the best possible way to do this. It's deeply black humor, real whistling-past-the-bomb-site stuff, and it's amazingly effective. But what I want to talk about it the way it's reflective of an odd present trend of self-deprecating genres, of people talking about their craft from essentially a defensive stance because of either their or our refusal to acknowledge the differential quality across mediums. For instance, mailing list member Dean Costello sends this anecdote: Something to consider: I took a class in college called something like "The History of Television", which was taught by Nancy Kulp, Ms. Jane Hathaway from "The Beverely Hillbillies". She said that whenever she was at a gathering of friends, party, et al, invariably people would come up to her and say, "You know, all telelvision is crap--I won't have it in the house". Which is fine from her point of view since she said the sheer amount of crap on TV is fairly huge, but she was constantly put into the position of having to defend television, which is difficult. I'm also talking about comics here, about the interminable whinges by artist/writers about how no one takes "sequential art" (thanks, guys, "graphic novels" wasn't retarded enough) seriously as art, which while I had a certain ID with at first, has now grown not only old but intensely annoying. Because it's never presented in righteous terms, i.e. "This deserves to be taken seriously as an art form!" but, as I say, as a whine, which is I suppose not surprising given the socially-anxious-middle-class-males demographic that most comic book artists reside in. It's couched in terms of sarcasm, the last refuge of the self-conscious, and it's deeply self-depricating. This seems like a particularly modern phenomenon to me, spurred by the univerality of criticism and self-reflexiveness; at the point of being creators or critics, we're all aware of what most people think about what we're doing, or at least what our peers think most people think about what we're doing, if that makes any sense. It's that weird combination of populism and elitism that defines the, for lack of a better term, indie sensibility, which is not in and of itself problematic, but which does produce some pretty questionable outcomes. Well, time to get dinner, but more on this tomorrow. Discuss amongst yourselves, as they say. posted by Mike B. at 5:43 PM 0 comments
It took me a little while to figure out just what was going on here, so I won't spoil it for you, but suffice to say, it is a Quo Vadimus exclusive and very, very cool. Take a look. posted by Mike B. at 5:03 PM 0 comments
So, now we get actual content, right? Uh, no, I have to do that whole "work" thing. But here's a story about a Q&A with Hunter S. Thompson from the 70s I got on a mailing list this morning that's been ringing true for reasons that I assume will be obvious. One moment when he showed us something was when he asked the audience what we were interested in changing in the world. Someone yelled"disco" to a smattering of applause. He shrugged and said, more or less, "is that all that bothers you"? He suggested that there was a solution that involved some gasoline and a getaway car, but he didn't want to be quoted as suggesting people burn the discos. His main point was he didn't think this would help. He seemed genuinely distressed that the young folks present didn't have bigger fish to fry. He said he thought the US would be a short-lived warrior nation, and that was that. (thanks to Mike J) posted by Mike B. at 11:38 AM 0 comments
Blah, blah, blah, more MIA. Lemme get this out of the way and we'll move on to independently interesting content. First off, I think Dave has a great response, and makes a lot of great points in re: valuing one authentic representation over another, but he's wrong at the very end when he says, "When M.I.A. tells everybody to pull up the poor, it's nice, but it's not part of a dialogue." This is obviously not true, because, hey, look, we're dialoguing our retarded asses off about it. Secondly, Carl's point about a fourth level not being an unquestioning acceptance is a very good one, and should be read. Finally, as for Simon...sigh. There are many perhaps mean things I could say at this point, but let me at least save them for at least after I've made one more basic point. I don't whip out the "please pay attention to the music, please" argument very much, because, as Simon goes into abstract detail about, it's not, in and of itself, valid. So when I do, I have a very specific criteria for it: I do it only when I feel like the music itself is being ignored in favor of a masturbatory bitchfest about everything that's not the music. I did this, as longtime readers (as well as, possibly, Pitchfork writers/letterpage readers) will remember, about the last Liz Phair album (funny how this always seems to happen with female musicians!), because I felt like a fantastic piece of music was being summarily dismissed because she posed nudies and worked with the wrong producers. I don't necessarily see this dismissal happening with MIA, but that's even worse, because people aren't even addressing the music, they're spending all their ink talking about how they don't really know anything about Sri Lanka. And so I've spent four posts now bitching about this (and, to be fair, I should widen it beyond Simon's review, but that's the most egregious offense I've seen) because I love this music so much. I think it can bring you immense happiness, and joy, and excitement, and it would do that whether MIA was a Sri Lankan immigrant or a retarded circus clown from Columbus. But people do take this shit seriously, they do pay attention to some random bit of hype and use it as an excuse not to engage with a piece of music. I'm trying to stop that from happening. I'm calling out critics on this because I know as well as you do that this is essentially laziness, that you're avoiding doing the heavy lifting of assessing the aesthetic qualities of a piece of music because it's easier to bitch about people being hoodwinked, or an artist not being sufficiently leftist. Simon wants to call me "anti-authenticist" (although I'm apparently "they," which is awesome, because I've always wanted to be they! Now when you say "they say" know who you're talking about? Me.) so, fuck it, lemme own that term. The key criteria for anti-authenticists is this: the music is central. And--this is important, pay attention please--music can be good while also being wrong, or offensive, or dangerous. Music does not have to be true to be wonderful, because music isn't about truth, it's about music. (To put it in terms of Simon's weird 8th paragraph there: music is not chocolate covered fucking raisins.) And so, yes, the context matters, but, again, the music is central, and ultimately disproving everything said about MIA anywhere ever doesn't change the actual recorded music, it just distracts us from it, and that's not good. My rule is that if you can address the context in a way that enhances our appreciation of the music, great, but otherwise leave it alone. That artists misrepresent themselves shouldn't be a newsflash for anyone. And so it pisses me off that we're not actually talking about the music--that I'm not actually talking about the music--and instead we're actually edging toward some sort of grotesque precipice where we're debating whether or not she has the fucking right to include baile funk elements in her music. In what universe is the answer not "yes"? Didn't everyone over the age of 15 agree on this like a long time ago? The music is there for you to use, and if it works, it's justified. Should she only be making Sri Lankan music? Should she not be making music at all? Look, if you want to talk about politics, that's fine, go talk about politics. But the politics of music is ridiculous. It's just not worth the effort. There are far too many bad things going on in the world for me to care whether or not MIA deserves to sound grimey, because, jesus, who gives a shit? Is the music good? If so, let's talk about it and enjoy it. If it's not, let ignore it and move on with our lives. So yes, please, take it seriously, care, get worked up, I am. But do the music the favor of taking it on its own terms, which it fully deserves. If you want to talk about its authenticity, fine, but have the grace and the intelligence to discuss whether or not this actually changes your listening experience, and if so, why, and how. Please let's not place upon this thing we love, music, a lazy betrayal. posted by Mike B. at 10:51 AM 0 comments
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Speaking of MIA, this week's set of reviews in Flagpole do not include any by me, but do include a very good one of Arular by Gardner, as well as a as-yet uncredited Residents review by, I believe, Hillary. posted by Mike B. at 11:35 AM 0 comments
Not that anyone cares, but lemme offer a slightly more substantial response to the below. "Level 1" is what I'm accusing Simon of doing and so, presumably, he's trying to say here that he's not doing that, although, er, I'm sort of missing why. Anyway. "Level 2" is presented here as a sort of debased/cynical form of level 1, although the way Simon primarily portrays it (i.e. "posit a real realness underneath the fake-realness") it's basically the way we watch The Osbornes--"ooh, lookit that! He's an evil heavy metal guy and he's yelling at this small dog!" Obviously I think that's a bit short-sighted and/or self-serving. "Level 3"...well, I could be snarky and say something about how the fact that the sun continues to rise is significant, but that doesn't make it interesting, doesn't make it worth talking about. Or I could try and parse what the hell he's saying, but we're not blogosphere Straussians yet, thank the lord, so since it's only one paragraph I'll request a longer version and wait for that until I comment on whatever the hell he's trying to say, although I suspect I'd be more interested in hearing it from someone's who's not a music critic. So instead, let me just say this: it's all well and good that you think discourses of authenticity are significant. But the review was not commenting on or dissecting or explaining the significance of the fact that people are arguing about MIA. It just perpetuated them in a quite frankly boring way. I'd be very interested to talk about why it matters to her music whether or not she went to a particular college. (Because, quite frankly, I have no idea, but that's for later.) But trying to argue whether or not you should be listening to something is, and will always be, a worthless pursuit. posted by Mike B. at 11:13 AM 0 comments
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
That sound you hear is me banging my head against the wall. Address the issue! Make a judgment of some kind! Don't just say that it was legitimate because other people were doing it too! Argh. Whatever. I'm going to go eat Indian food and watch Gilmore Girls now. posted by Mike B. at 7:02 PM 0 comments
I sent this to a mailing list in response to Thompson's death, but eh, might as well post it here too. Hunter's made me sad for some time, and for some reason I just can't warm to that style of writing since I moved out of adolescence, although my politics-junky girlfriend (i.e. Miss Clap) did love the Nixon book, which she wasn't expecting. Anyway, it's been clear for a while now that instead of living by his wits he was being just as self-destructive as before but being propped up by his handlers, one of whom, his assistant, he eventually married. He was very smart, and very talented, and it's very sad that he was so batshit insane and unable or unwilling to get treatment for it. It's sad that he continued to represent this particular dumbass lifestyle and his public face was one that attempted to legitimize drawing it out into middle and old age, but the reality was that he was only able to do it because he was independently wealthy and had successfully surrounded himself with yes-(wo)men. Between the accounts of his drunken, embarassing book signing fiasco last year and the time Jesse spent with him for a story, this was just not a human being I could like or respect, and shame, shame, shame on the people around him for not doing something about this. I keep seeing accounts presenting his fate as inevitable, but it simply wasn't. I'm not articulating this very well, but maybe you get the point. This was preventable, and he could have matured into a great writer instead of simply becoming a self-parody whose main message, at least as the public received it, was the democratization of self-destruction, whereas, like most democratizations, it was really only within your grasp if you already had m-o-n-e-y. posted by Mike B. at 3:59 PM 0 comments
Some random hits: - LCD Soundsystem's song titles sure are annoying when you're a review writer with an eye on your word count. Also, is it a coincidence that two of their best songs are co-writes? Apparently Tim gets credit for some of "Yeah" and "Beat Connection." Also also, given the great transitions on the Rapture album (and the third disc of DFA Comp #2) why the hell couldn't they throw a few in here? The sequencing is, if not wiggidy wack, at least the regular kind. (More on Murphy's Masterwork later, probably.) - I have moved, so if you had a snail mail address for me in Brooklyn, consider it now outdated. Just drop me a line if you want the new one. I was going to post things about my new neighborhood, but that'll have to wait. Lemme just say this, though: the discount store sells mix CDs for $4! I totally got a Soca one and a dancehall one last night. - So, uh, how does one get on the mailing list to know when to submit proposals for EMP's pop music conference? Because apparently I missed out again, which is THE SADDENATOR. (Edit: it might help one's cause to spell "conference" correctly, yes?) More things when I think of them. posted by Mike B. at 1:11 PM 0 comments
Conversation with a 9-year-old (Ar): Ar: I know every word on the first Avril CD. MC: Can we come over sometime and dance around to it? I'll wear lots of pink! Ar: I'll wear black. Later, we tried to explain the concept of welfare mothers to her. It didn't go well. So: suggestions for a mix CD for a 9-year-old girl who loooooves Avril but thinks Britney is crap? I'm going to go with the Avril-esque Kelly Clarkson, Liz Phair, Mandy Moore, and Janet Jackson, but what else might be good? Should I then just throw in some Mu for the hell of it? posted by Mike B. at 10:28 AM 0 comments
Friday, February 18, 2005
Uh, OK Simon, so MIA herself (and/or her fans/PR people) makes you vaguely uncomfortable, offends your sensibilities in some way, etc., but--do you like the damn music? (Or was there just not room to get into that in the article, which, fair enough, but I'm curious as to your thoughts, honestly.) I have to admit I'm deeply disappointed with this review, given that it comes from someone who's usually so good about taking the music seriously. It takes as its premise the idea that people are attracted to MIA because of the ideas she's associated with rather than the music she makes, and in the process of countering this straw man argument commits the same sin of treating her as the subject of a dissertation rather than something to be listened to. In the end it comes off as a very well-written version of the kind of argument teenagers have about music, debating its social status rather than its artistic worth, and there are a lot of people who would agree that this does an extreme disservice to her very, very wonderful music. The (quite frankly innaccurate) context people keep trying to put her music in wouldn't be a problem if people stopped doing shit like this, focusing on the marketing rather than the goddamn art. In other words, this article just perpetuates the things Simon's complaining about. If he wanted it to stop, he could have given us an actual review of the album. But he didn't. And so here we are. There are certainly other things I could object to, but I think that's the basic problem, and for me to further quibble with arguments about where she went to fucking school (I've said it before and I'll say it again--fucking British people) would just keep the bullshit flowing, whereas I'm trying to make. it. stop. Please. ADDENDUM: Simon has a reply to some of the objections raised, although not mine of course. But it's still arguing points that I think ultimately aren't important. Look, if you really have a problem with people talking about MIA being grime or dancehall or a refugee or a revolutionary (which I do too), push back by talking about the music outside of that context. Don't make this bullshit the center of the discourse. And please don't use "massive hype" as an excuse (which admittedly Luca does more explicitly than Simon)--it just feels massive because it's being aimed directly at people like us. It's not actually that big at all, and quite frankly I'm shocked that anyone who's had any exposure to a major label hype machine could say that in good conscience. You're trying to argue hipsters out of something here, and that's just banging your head against a wall. Change the terms if you care that much. posted by Mike B. at 5:27 PM 0 comments
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Is it just me, or does the cover of the new Bright Eyes album look very Wesley Willis-ish? And what does this say about Bright Eyes? I'm just askin'. (I guess it also looks kinda Danielsen-y upon closer look, but that's kinda weird too.) posted by Mike B. at 5:32 PM 0 comments
Madonna to sound like Kelly Clarkson? Awesome. posted by Mike B. at 12:20 PM 0 comments
Uh, hi, Village Voice readers. I guess I've been "outed" now with my real name--well, aside from that thing with tha Unicorn last year, and aside from my ballots, and my Flagpole articles, and...but anyway--so hi to my co-workers, too. Or not. I guess this'll tell me how closely they read the Voice. The latest installment of the Blueberry Boat project--i.e., what you're looking for--can be found here. Sequential links to all previous entries are at the top of that one. You may also be interested in the Blueberry Boat Chronicles, an attempt on my part to re-order the album chronologically. Finally, there have been assorted other little bits about the Furnaces, which you can probably find best by doing a search. Stick around, if you like; this blog's about a lot more than just the Fiery Furnaces. It's about Kelly Clarkson and Courtney Love too! But seriously, I should have at least one summation up in the next few days. You may notice that there are still a few songs left to do, but I don't think they're germane to the story, so although I do have some ideas on them (and I'm like thisclose to getting "1917") they'll have to be bonus tracks for later. So keep checking for that. Hey Deborah, does this mean I can get on the guestlist for the North6 show now? posted by Mike B. at 10:19 AM 0 comments
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Seriously? This is the best thing ever. Here's the chorus: Refrain, refrain, refrain, refrain Yes. Yes. Yes. And the song is fucking fantastic too. God bless you, popjustice. This is sort of the definition of the phrase "gleefully embracing." posted by Mike B. at 5:30 PM 0 comments
It is a lovely day here in the city, in the sixties apparently, and I'd been hungering for some outdoors since I walked to the subway this morning. Around 3:30 I decided it was finally time (I'd eaten lunch intra-office, after all) so I set off. I ended up in the park, soaking up the winter sun as it set over DSW and eating a not insignificant portion of an Entenmann's Fudge Iced Golden cake with my bare hands. It was wonderful. It had actually been kind of difficult to find an actual ground-based patch of sunshine--I could see it, up there in the sky, landing on building roofs or even entrances farther down the Avenue, but couldn't seem to actually track the damn thing down. The park was a reliable choice. I put the cake box on the grocery bag next to me and slowly finished off the last little square, the encrusted roofs of frosting extruding over the slightly stale cake maybe a little too far, this particular cake over-iced, I thought, maybe, but then dismissed it. The damn thing was delicious. Even better with your bare hands too, sometimes. Next to me, there was a gay or gay-ish man talking on his cell phone. "Where was your neice who killed herself?" he said. Later, he said, "Did I tell you I'm going back to school? I'm taking a course at Cooper Union on memoir writing. I got a scholarship." After he hung up the phone, he picked up his book and started reading it again. The book was called Dry. Earlier, he had said, "I guess he didn't really kill himself, but he was fucked up all the time, and he died at forty, so same thing." Earlier, he had said, "If one more person told me you oughta write a book I figured it was time, you know? Not like I'm doing anything else with myself." Around the corner, a small girl was sitting in one of those strollers-with-sleeping-bag things, napping, bathing in the sun. She woke up and turned her head up and opened one eye. She stretched as much as she was able and the sun embraced her completely, as much as it was able, diffused by the ugly architecture and the barren trees. posted by Mike B. at 4:36 PM 0 comments
MP3blog fite! I know it's like a week out of date now, but let me just add one thing that for some reason did not seem to get said... What Paul and a few others were trying to do was not make an argument on the basis of morality. Rachel is right that this is not a defensible position to take in this context. What they were making, instead (which was good to hear, given the by-now played-out arguments over the morality of downloading), was an argument on the basis of practicality. As is pointed out, labels do tolerate and even encourage MP3blogs, because it is good publicity. But this support is clearly conditional and tenuous, even if that's never explicitly stated by either party. So Paul's argument, aside from the general subjective rip on Scenestars, was made because he doesn't want to see MP3blogs go away. His point was that if you do shit like this, record companies will stop tolerating the practice of allowing MP3blogs to post tracks from unreleased albums, because it will start to cross the line between promoting an album and giving it away. One song is an acceptable loss leader; three or four starts to get murky, and anything past that--which, if you don't do what Paul did and try and nip the problem in the bud, will start to happen, I guarantee you--will start to bring cease and desist letters. And these are different from a simple request to take things down--these are legal fines, legal matters. These hurt. Ask Kottke. The phrase at hand is "chiling effect." Even if you've been explicitly told by a PR person that it's OK to post three tracks, it's up to you to use your personal judgment not to, because unless you explicitly state that these tracks are up with the encouragement of the director of marketing at Elektra--which wouldn't look good, given the general image of an MP3blogger, right?--some other blog is going to get the idea that it's OK to do this with any album, whether or not you've gotten explicit permission. Ultimately, whether or not giving away a significant portion of an album is good or bad for an artist isn't the issue--the issue is that this would be bad for MP3blogs. They're clearly not going to last forever, but we all have an interest in ensuring that they last as long as possible, and I think Paul's point was made in service of this goal. UPDATE: Ah, I see that Paul's just said pretty much what I just said. So, uh, never mind. posted by Mike B. at 12:57 PM 0 comments
Oh, and also: went to the special dinner last night with my special lady in Williamsburg, and right above the Bedford stop there's a wall of posters saying "PULL UP / THE PEOPLE / PULL UP / THE POOR / MIA" in that distinctive green-and-pink MIA grafitti style. What was so best about this was that you could see beneath them the posters that had been there before--advertising the Oasis/Jet gig. I dunno, it was sort of bittersweet. I'll miss the days--I do already--when we could pretend like we had MIA all to ourselves... UPDATE: Sasha has a picture of this at the top of his latest post. posted by Mike B. at 12:43 PM 0 comments
So I went and I downloaded a decent sampling of the MP3s from upcoming eagerly-anticipated albums over at Stereogum. And what the fuck? Did we all get together and decide that the big indie sound for first quarter '05 is "boring pussy bullshit"? Are we pushing back against MIA and LCD by being shitty? That is, of course (and with the exception of tracks Matthew's already posted, like the Out Hud and the X-Wife) except for Bunky! Who I am totally in love with and want to write a long review of, maybe. I'm even willing to forgive the name now. Also, could someone please get Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and the Jealous Lovers new singers? Because everything else is fantastic. But those singers, man. posted by Mike B. at 12:34 PM 0 comments
Monday, February 14, 2005
We played an outdoor show this summer at which a small child danced on a picnic table to a song I wrote. This was the pinnacle of my music career so far. But now I get this note, from a nine-year-old: Hi M! Al. put on your cd yesterday i think your band is great! So awesome! I replied telling her that we should write a song about tigers sometime, and also not to eat too many hot dogs. posted by Mike B. at 12:46 PM 0 comments
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Just did a little more digging into my P&J ballot, and there are some surprises there. Singles-wise, I was the only person to vote for "Debbie Loves Joey," which was somewhat unsurprising, but then only two other people voted for Dykhouse (understandable), Janet (what?) and Eamon (are you serious?!), plus only three other people voted for the Kelly, which is a fucking travesty. So, leaving out rainmaker LCD Soundsystem, 5 of my top 6 singles got a total of 14 votes. And they're not exactly obscurist! Ah well. (Addendum: Anthony Miccio voted for the Eamon last year. He will vote for the Kelly next year, maybe.)
With the albums, I knew I was the only person to vote for Strong Bad Sings, which I kinda expected, but I was also the only person to vote for the Meow Meow album! Which is shocking. Such a good album. Courtney got more love than I expected but less than she deserved, although Chucky K's on there. Nice. posted by Mike B. at 4:43 PM 0 comments
David Byrne's "Glass Concrete and Stone" is an interesting song.[1] It's a good song, but it also has a very simple chord structure, even traditional, especially the chorus, which goes for (I think) the ol' V-IV-I. And the verse is, I think, just vi-I. You could say that it would sound just as gorgeous played on an acoustic guitar, but I'm not sure if that's true. It relies pretty heavily on that xylophone bit that's doubled on a, natch, acoustic guitar, and taken down to just chords it would sound different. But I'm not even sure it's the arrangement that turns this pretty simple song into something really gorgeous. (It's the lyrics, too, which are fantastic, but let's gloss over those for a sec.) What I think it is[2] is actually Byrne's voice, a fact I'm usually loathe to admit. But compare this with a Talking Heads song with a similar vibe like "Heaven." Great song, but Byrne's delivery is much more rock-singer, separated and discrete phrases that are perhaps intentionally disconnected. That was what he was good at. But here, the song is actually kind of soothing. It's not "this is not my beautiful house!" kind of accusatory and great revelation-y, but a slow burn, an acceptance. It's not "I'm throwing this in your face!" but "You know this is true, right?" I like this. And what sells it is totally the voice and the way it carries the melody. He breathes straight through these, connecting almost everything, cutting out only for discrete chunks of instrumental sections, harmonizing really beautifully with himself. And the tone is understated and easy, smooth, more cello than chicken-scratch guitar. Even when he switches to those tropicalia cadences right before the chorus and cuts them off, they stop at a note that leads logically into the next one, even if he cuts them off. Of course, there are other nice little touches here--the shaker in the verse is particularly nice, and the detuned string/melodica break, to say nothing of the overall awesomeness of the xylophone. But mainly here, it's the voice, supporting the melody and the lyrics. An odd little thing, in context, but quite lovely. [1] "...if you're a music nerd like me." Yeah, I know. [2] Besides the lovely way Byrne avoids returning to the tonic too soon in the verse when the chord shifts, hanging on to that slightly upraised note. posted by Mike B. at 1:51 PM 0 comments
VERY IMPORTANT SELF-SERVING ANNOUNCEMENT
Hi all. This is a post to let you know that my band The Song Corporation is having a release party for its new EP this Saturday, the 12th. The evening begins at 8 with some fine performances from bands we like such as the Wowz and El Jezel, and we play at 10. It is at the Knitting Factory Old Office and the cover is $8. You should totally come. It will be like this blog, except live, and with music. Which means it's awesome. Plus, if you missed it when STG posted it before, here's "The Bug Speaks". Hope to see some of you there! (fuller details here) posted by Mike B. at 11:44 AM 0 comments
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
So this list of 100 best albums to listen to whilst making the beast with two backs is kinda...oh, what's the word...worrisome, I guess. Is this really what the kids think is sexxxy these days? Yoinks!
Besides the ones that would just make it hard not to stop and have a good long talk with the person about their priorities in life (Broken Social Scene, Sunny Day Real Estate, The Chemical Brothers, The Shins, Lovage) and the ones that would make sweet lovemaking difficult because I would snooze on off halfway through (Iron and Wine, Wilco, Neil Young, Coldplay, Air)--plus the ones that count for both (Godspeed You Black Emperor)--there are some that are just disturbing. Viz: 100. The Postal Service – Give Up Seeing as how right when Ben Gibbard's vocals come in, the headphones blow off my ears with the force of my hate, I can't even imagine what this would be like in a bedroom situation. I mean, that can be fun sometimes, but I'm doubtful anyone who put this on would be expecting a Pigface experience, if you know what I mean. Also: where's Pigface on this list? 91. Violent Femmes – Violent Femmes Do you want me to be thinking about my high school girlfriend the entire time? 66. Elliott Smith - Either/Or Er, I know the site is called Suicide Girls and all, but aside from the fact that I could never respect someone who thought mopey white dudes with acoustic guitars are sexy, this guy killed himself by stabbing himself in the chest with a knife. Stabbing himelf in the chest with a knife. Not the best thing to be thinking about when you're exposing your wee-wee to a stranger. 64. Notorious B.I.G. – Ready To Die This would be good up until one particular track. That track is called "Suicidal Thoughts." At this point it would not be good. At all. "Oh baby, I want you, I...uh, what's he saying? Oh god!" 45. Big Black – Songs About Fucking I'm just going to assume this was a joke and move on. I dunno, something about industrial murder/rape songs just doesn't do it for me in this context. Maybe they're into that sort of thing, but if you are, maaaaybe you should be looking elsewhere for your sexual fulfillment. 43. The Smiths - The Smiths You're gay! You're gay, aren't you? (Or, if already gay: you're a nerd! You're a nerd, aren't you!) 36. Joy Division – Closer "Hi! I hope you're ready for three months of being screamed at for neglecting my needs, followed by me getting drunk and making out with your roommate, because boy howdy, that's what you just signed up for!" 34. Areosmith – Greatest Hits There's nothing disturbing about this, actually, I just wanted to point out how it's awesome and totally right. 28. Nine Inch Nails – The Downward Spiral OK, we're talking pig head on a stick here, remember? There are fine goth/industrial bands to have sex to--My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult tops among them--so really, do we need to put on the album with "March of the Pigs" quite so early in the sequencing? Trust me, you don't want that. You really don't want that. 24. Mazzy Star – Among My Swan It would just make me want to do heroin instead. 21. Lauryn Hill – The Miseducation of… I'm sorry, did I say something wrong? What did I say? No seriously, I know I said something. Why are you offended? Alright, whatever. 9. The Cure – Disintegration Look, I'm just saying, we're having sex here. It's OK. You're not a depressed teenager anymore. (You're not a teenager of any kind, right? Oh, wshew. Good.) You can have fun! Look! We're having fun! Hey! Let's put on something that's not primarily used by middle-class youth to justify their angst! 53. Tricky – Maxinquaye 52. Massive Attack - Protection 31. Massive Attack – Blue Lines 8. Portishead – Dummy 1. Massive Attack – Mezzanine Look, I wouldn't pick up someone wearing capri pants, so why would I want to have sex to trip-hop in this day and age? Sure, we've all done it. But we've all lived in a dorm room with posters of Bob Marley on the wall, too. It's time to move on. Look, I have this CD here. It's by a guy named Prince. Prince! Have you ever heard of him? No? Yeah, I know, he's not on the list. But just trust me on this one, OK? You'll like it. (The best and most unexpected pick on the list, incidentally, is George Micheal – Ladies & Gentleman: The Best of (Disc 2), which should be much higher. Good call! But really, no Prince? Really? C'mon now.) (Link via TMFTML obvs.) posted by Mike B. at 4:51 PM 0 comments
If someone wanted to buy me one of these, I would wear it like all the time. Because it's so true! No seriously! Filth it is! (XL white t-shirt is fine, thanks.)
posted by Mike B. at 2:49 PM 0 comments
Just on the off chance that you do not check Quo Vadimus daily, you owe it to yourself to go read this, a report on a Gilmore Girls panel in which it is revealed that Sebastian Bach is even more awesome than you let yourself imagine. It's like if the Beatles actually did all live in the same house, with individual cool beds! Well, not really, but kinda.
Last night's episode was fantastic, helped maybe by the fact that I'd only just watched last week's the night before. (Dinner at Mrs. Kim's = splendiferously hilarious.) The indie rock bits in the beginning were cringy, but were fully redeemed with the Fifth Dimension riff at the wedding reception, a lovely little acknowledgement of the way older folks latch onto one or two totally random pop songs. Everything else was great. Nice to see Rory finally, um, coming into her own, really well-played scene between Luke and Emily in the garage, the bachelorette party, the crazy aunt (not the smelly one), and, of course, "Don't keep a roomful of Anglo-Saxons waiting for cake, they're likely to start forming even smaller clubs." ADDENDUM: Cringy though it was, this exchange is a pretty good illustration of why the band in question rubs me the wrong way right now: Rory: Do you like the Arcade Fire? Lorelai: I don't know. Do I? Rory: Yes you do. Hey! Maybe no she doesn't! I prefer to think that Lorelai really likes Andrew WK and Shakira, but maybe that's just projection. posted by Mike B. at 11:02 AM 0 comments
A huge crapload of reviews in this week's Flagpole. I have four, or five, depending on how you count it: Head Automatica, The Hidden Cameras, Skating Club, and a joint Ruben/Fantasia review (which contains a shoutout to both Janine and Gail).
Uh...I think I had something to say about some of those. But I can't remember now for the life of me. Oh well. posted by Mike B. at 10:50 AM 0 comments
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Also, can I say how much I like reading music critics talk about politics? It's awesome. There should be a whole magazine for it, and it should be called Badly-Written Banalities No One Gives a Shit About. It would sell a million copies. Every day.
Look, you want to come to me and compare a particular mash-up to TR's Panama policy effort, or Nellie McKay's marketing plan to electioneering usage of cross-cutting cleavages, we can talk. If you just want to regurgitate things we all read about in the same damn vaguely leftist publications and compare it to some aspect of popular culture, leave it to Maureen Dowd. She does it better, or at least crazier. Which, in this context, is better. Oh, and especially don't use cultural capital wrong. That'll just piss me off more. Especially if, after misusing it, you proceed to a really astoundingly dumb analysis of, you know, culture. posted by Mike B. at 4:55 PM 0 comments
I have far too much work to do to deal with Pazz & Jop right now, but, you know, it's up.
I've already posted my ballot, but here it is all official-like. Mine is the only vote Strong Bad Sings! got. I think they owe me a shirt. You know what this means, though, don't you? Now I can post my comments. So here they are, all 3,000 words of them. Some are recycled from the blog, but mainly it's all-new. I talk about Courtney a lot. Enjoy. I have to squeeze in lunch now. *** I've been reading year-end round-ups calling 2004 a dismal year for music. Now, admittedly, this is really only the second year I've been taking year-end round-ups seriously, so maybe every year half the people say "best year ever" and the other half say "even the sound of birdsong brought naught but revulsion to my ears," but man, drive the naysayers from the temple, 2004 was awesome! Maybe not the same feeling of promise as a 2001, but in terms of pure enjoyment, this was it, mon frere. Maybe it was the fact that the two musical highpoints of the 80s, the Pixies and Prince (and they're alliterative too!), embarked on grand return-to-form tours. It's easy to carp about tired nostalgia when your parents are going googly-eyed for the Stones, but when the lights go down and that opening beat from "Wave of Mutilation" hits you, well, you start to see the point. Maybe it was the advent of the MP3 and the iPod and blah de bleedly blah de bloo. Jesus, I mean c'mon. It's like saying music was influenced by the Atkins Diet because there was an article about it in Newsweek. Besides the fact that I've been downloading MP3s for the last 9 friggin' years, did people not, like, listen to individual songs before? Weren't there these things called "singles"? Weren't there these things called "mixtapes"? Someone putting an MP3 up online and saying "listen to this" is only a different from slamming it onto side B of a TDK D-90 in terms of scale, and I don't know how different that really is, given the actual size of the audience for MP3 blogs. If there's anything good about the newfound prevalence of MP3s it's that it might make audiophile dicks even less credible. "Ooh, this remaster has an extra 3 dB of headroom on it..." Shut the fuck up dude, no one cares. Or maybe it was the very thing people are pointing to as evidence that 2004 sucked ass, the lack of a beakthrough sound a la "grime" or "garage-rock" or "yelling at birds" (lookout, 2008!), that made the year so kickass. Look guys, I know that as critics it's easier to talk about one thing than a lot of things, but fuckin deal. This year was an embarrassment of riches, music-wise, as long as you're looking at songs rather than albums. Hip-hop had kind of a weak year, but dance-pop killed it. Trad-rock sputtered but innovative indie hit a few out of the park. I can stand here throwing out meaningless genre names all day, but ask yourself this, anti-dilletantites: can you fill up a CDR with music from 2004 that makes you happy? If so, then 2004 was the best year ever, just like every other year. Plus, U2 apparently put out a good album, if you're one of those people who enjoys the feeling of Bono slowly drilling a hole through your own individual place in the fabric of reality. (The rapture of U2 fans will be upon us soon!) If I bothered to look these things up, I could rattle off the list of old standbys who made disappointing albums, I'm sure, and I guess that would be a trend. I didn't like PJ's new one too much, and then there was...oh, hell, I dunno. But yes, it was a year we were forced to seek out new things. Or maybe we weren't. Whatever. Look, I've never been much good at figuring out these sort of trends, or, if you're being unkind, assigning random meanings to phenomena rooted not in large-scale social behaviors but in very individualized circumstances. I liked that we couldn't agree whether there was a lot of musical political activism or very little musical political activism in the face of THE BUSHINATOR, and that regardless, it didn't make a whit of difference election-wise, because maybe now we'll get closer to a true understanding of the function of political music, although I'm not holding my breath. Here's the thing. I'm 25 and I play a lot of video games: I have a short attention span. What happened back in February that influenced music? Uh, Valentine's Day? Maybe President's Day? Franz Ferdinand went to a whites sale or something? Shit, I don't know. So instead, I'm going to spend 1000 words talking about Courtney Love. Let's make this clear up front: Courtney Love is crazy as a fucking loon, and I say this as someone who knows a lot of people who are crazy as fucking loons but don't have the money or sycophants to prevent them from dealing with the fact that they're crazy as a fucking loon. And even the sycophant thing isn't really fair--I know three people who worked for Courtney (note past tense) and they were hardly enablers; they may even have been trying to help, although I think less "help" and more "survive" given the quote from one such ex-employee: "I liked going home at night because that meant the screaming stopped." But C-Lo is ultimately the story of the year because, batshit insane as she is, she managed to both continue being the most interesting walking force of destruction and deconstruction out there, punk rocking for our sins, and make one of the best albums of the year. For those of us on the outside, unable to help and thus able to view the events with the necessary distance, Courtney's year was ostensibly in the same category as fellow-traveler trainwrecks Tara or Paris, but whereas everything the younger disaster zones did seemed to communicate either self-promotion or a sort of pathetic bathos, Courtney's actions all came laced with potent social commentary. Exposing her ravaged body endlessly and for no apparent reason including at a Very Important Photo Shoot or two, just breaking the fuck into a guy's house in Beverly Hills, missing court dates, fighting for custody of her kid (who seems much more well-adjusted than she has any right to be), braining a fan, and--picture of the year, no question--inviting a very nice black man named Kofi to suckle on her exposed breast outside the Union Square Wendy's, she was the realest thing going this year, utterly unmediated, and yet we all seemed to regard her with mere revulsion when it demanded a higher form of attention. This is not to lionize her for her insanity--it is, in fact, to do the exact opposite--but simply to state the facts: Courtney Love is an astoundingly smart human being. She is showing us exactly what it means to be a "woman in rock" without being exploited, shoving it in our faces, subverting every expectation and avoiding all ostensible requirements. Courtney's career, Courtney's life, is a demonstration of what being pure and having your voice heard entails, and the fact that it looks horrible is no accident. What she represents is not an anomaly but simply the logical endpoint, the true behavior so many before her should have been exhibiting were they true to their ideals but simply did not have the courage or intelligence to. As Joe Macare has pointed out, she's living the male rock star ideal and being demonized for it, but she's more than lucid enough to point this inconsistency out on her own. That she still then doesn't shy away from the behavior is a testament to her level of dedication and realization of what intellectual commitment means. She is a walking maker of meaning, and it’s hard to talk about Courtney without tending into the language of the mythical. If she can provide so multi-layered a pop culture allegory with the Wendy’s “I just wanted some chicken nuggets” incident in the same year she gave us the even more complex “But Julian, I’m a Little Bit Older Than You” then think of what she could do if she was sane. Courtney’s status as godhead shines through in the simple reason that personal contact with deities can be damaging to mere mortals, but their actions viewed at a remove provide free-floating signifiers. Their most committed followers are frightening in their devotion, but as a humanist trope, it is undeniably useful. If pop music, as a genre, has a tragic flaw, it is that despite its placement across time, it does not provide any substantive narrative, replacing it instead with repetition. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but if you’re in a certain mood, it’s easy to listen to the first 30 seconds of almost any pop song, note the lack of any progression aside from the chordal ones that cycle endlessly back on themselves, and get so bored that you skip to the next song, and then repeat this process again and again for every successive repetitive nugget, with even the most novelty-packed confection inevitably falling back onto repetition and, thus, boredom. But pop as a living, breathing thing has worked around this problem by making the music simply a focal element (which is sometimes a McGuffin, a vacant but nonetheless interesting and meaningful plot motor) into a whole narrative of the pop star as a character. That Britney’s “Toxic” fires in its particular context is what elevates it, for now, above something like Gene Serene’s “Electric Dreams.” Courtney has created a narrative wholesale, and, as I say above, an interesting one, not just about degradation or fame, but about music itself and its human consequences. But we resent this: it is our jobs, as critics, to craft the narrative of pop, and that is why we regard PR and marketing, as well as naked (i.e. clumsily executed) ploys of this nature with such distaste. They write bad stories. That Courtney has written a good one without tipping her hand as the creator is what drives us to both critique her morally and misinterpret her critically. Ultimately, neither should be done. While we reserve the right to rewrite stories as we see fit (something that should be always kept in mind when kvetching about “bad marketing”), sometimes it is more useful to let it play out as the creator desires. This is one of those cases. What’s important here is less to try and stop the story—because, after all, circumventing all obstacles is a key element of the narrative—and more to try and drive it along, to see where it will go, to ride it into the New Year, full of hope, or something like it. Random hits: The "controversy" about the new Modest Mouse was so ridiculous that it wasn't even worth getting into. Look, if you think "Float On" is a bad song because it has a drunken sing-along, let me ask you this: do you like any Guided By Voices song? Then you like drunken sing-alongs. Deal with it. Kelly Clarkson's "Since U Been Gone" is the best song this year, but at this point I'll be very surprised if it even makes it onto the final P&J list, because, n'est pas, American Idol winners cannot make good music. Why even listen to it in the first place? For all the apparent progress we made this year in terms of opening up critical ears to Top 40 and pop-country and various other neglected mainstream genres, the fact remains that the problem is the existence of a critical consensus, not any particular application of it. As long as we all hate trance or jambands or, maybe five years later, sad indie songs, something's wrong and we cannot and should not be trusted. (Unless it makes the list, in which case--whoops!--my bad.) I keep wanting to put Pretty Toney on my list, but then every time I slide it into the player to reassess, I try to listen to “Biscuits” and “Kunta Fly Shit” and just cringe cringe cringe. Sequencing, kids! It matters! I can’t shake the feeling that if this album started at track 7 I’d love it immensely more, but it doesn’t, so I’m left to ponder my own bias towards early track positioning and reluctantly pimp The Streets instead (which is sequenced really well). This was the year I made peace with the fact that I genuinely love some very embarrassing entry-level indie, the kind of stuff that state college sophomores write message-board posts about how they’re so much realer than Britney a few months before they discover that the more hardcore music geeks don’t like anything they play on The OC and start listening to middlebrow indie stuff like The Arcade Fire, who thankfully I do still hate. But so like: The Killers! Listening to “All These Things That I’ve Done” is the Killers experience in microcosm. The opening keys bit is confusing but intriguing, then that wash comes in and it’s so lovely, and then the rockin’ chorus and you’re liking it a lot. But then all of a sudden they’re saying, “I’ve got soul but I’m not a soldier” and it’s just painfully embarrassing and you recoil in horror, but you can’t stop listening, and then all of a sudden there’s a fucking gospel choir, and motherfucker they just went for it, and you can’t help but love it. Afterwards you’re kind of embarrassed about it, but nevertheless. Plus there’s nothing even remotely indie about them but they’ve got a song called “Indie Rock And Roll” that calls it out as a lifestyle choice, and it’s both so good and so sure to rile up the partisans that I can only nod my head slowly in admiration. Speaking of going for it: Busted make martyr-pop for the rock ‘n’ roll masses, gleefully invoking every top 40 cliché over the course of their razor-sharp songs, sounding, sure, like the soundtrack for a montage in a Disney romantic comedy, but also like being 14 again. In a good way. The hate is part of the love. Speaking of hating middlebrow indie: Rilo Kiley. That I can’t remember any of their songs (save one) well enough even to insult them should be insult enough. But then there’s “Portions For Foxes,” their attempt at a Busted track. Well, you know what I mean: everything’s in there! Everything you’d expect! And it’s great, I can’t deny it. But the sex breathing in the quiet verse makes me feel dirty, and it takes a lot. Last year we was all talking about “weird” sounds in the mainstream (I went back and checked!) but this year top 40 was like a contest between dancehall and crunk to see who could take the most annoying sound possible and make an appealing tune out of it. Commercially the winner was crunk, but aesthetically, I’ll grant you “Yeah”’s awesome little hook, but “Goodies” seemed custom-designed to drive me insane, so dancehall kinda wins by default, seeing as how it had some truly maniac tunes this year. But oh, dudes, I forgot to tell you about my year in music! I wrote 50 songs, played 20 gigs, experienced some trad rock shit, didn’t score with any groupies, didn’t have any groupies really, didn’t get signed, did an EP with a skinny Italian producer dude who kept missing our sarcasm, sat down for a few hours and emerged with a fully-produced song (a few times), all of which was fine with me, really, but I like sitting at home with my girlfriend and watching TV, so maybe I should be more ambitious or something. I also negotiated songwriter splits, wrote liner notes, called Zakk Wylde at Dimebag’s house after he died to check on lyrics, input invoices, cut checks, lied to people about when they’d get their money, shook an old blues guy’s hand and enjoyed his scent, ate lunch at my desk; the usual, although better than it had been before. Music is a lot more than what we admit of it, I think, but also if these aspects of it were interesting, I’d be writing about them, right? Well, time to finish up. I had a whole rant about how much criticism sucked in 2004, but it got too long, so I’ll reduce it to the aphorisms, P&J style. [redacted acause it came from here] posted by Mike B. at 3:17 PM 0 comments
Monday, February 07, 2005
PopText on Jewel. I really like this--especially "A man carrying a flashing neon sign pointing at his head reading ‘Wanker’ doesn’t excuse the fact he is one"--but I'm not sure how much of this is because I once had a long conversation about Jewel with a man on a downtown bus who said he "used to be a big shot in the music industry." "Oh hey," I said, "me too."
(And yes, I'm woefully behind. On everything.) posted by Mike B. at 5:35 PM 0 comments
This isn't the MIA post, but let me offer you a brief equation formed at the show Saturday night:
(Chorus of "Pull Up The People") = (Ending of "My Man's Gone Now") Specifically, the way she says "poooooooor" as compared with this bit from the below-referenced Gershwin article: Performing in the climax of that scene, the soprano Ruby Elzy was widely praised This is it: Gerhwin to MIA, beautiful sadness transmogrified into giddy triumphalism. The blues' variations on tragedy moving through jazz's mimesis towards hip-hop's all-embracing comedy. And standing on top of it all, here we have MIA, mimetically describing tragedy in the service of a very real comedy. In a glittery lightning-bolt pantsuit, no less. (Pic via Amy.) posted by Mike B. at 2:04 PM 0 comments
ROCK 'N' ROLL BON MOTS #30
CeCile's LuCont-produced "Na Na Na Na" is a house song where every sound except vocals and handclaps has been replaced with some variant of a kick drum sample. It also gets people dancing way better than I ever thought it would. posted by Mike B. at 11:42 AM 0 comments
Saturday, February 05, 2005
I'm a little scattershot in my New Yorker reading, but having just got to it, I want to point out this article on Gershwin by Claudia Roth Pierpoint, which is both very good and very relevant; it's nice to know they were having these sorts of arguments 75 years ago, although I guess I knew that anyway. "How had a popular tunesmith composed our best-known achievements in classical forms? How had a child of Russian-Jewish immigrants come to represent the African-American voice? (Implicit in both: how had he dared?)" Good questions, but here's my question: at what point do these concerns go away? Ultimately, I don't think anyone's too concerned anymore about Gershwin appropriating black musical styles, and if they were, it would seem anachronistic, quaint; if you're going to go that far, why not just skip ahead to Elvis? So I was considering that these questions could not exist in the face of a critical consensus on quality (i.e. if everyone agreed that an artist was great, ultimately this rendered the question of their influences moot) but this was clearly not true--although Gershwin took a critical beating after "Rhapsody in Blue" (at least according to this piece), that particular composition rightly enjoyed something like universal acclaim. And ditto with MIA: people are objecting to her politics--or the politics of her music--not her music itself, which they like.[1] It just seems so weird to me for people older than 15 to apply this kind of structural morality to music-making that I have a hard time taking them seriously when faced with something as good as "Rhapsody in Blue" or Porgy and Bess. But look, here is this beautiful thing, right here, for you. You can do anything you want with it. It exists purely to bring you joy, and it succeeds in doing so. What's the goddamn problem?
Pierpoint points out that this was more or less the eventual reaction of actual musicians. While Cruse's "The Crisis of the Negro Intellectual" "called for a boycott of the opera by all black musicians and insisted that it ought to be performed only by whites in blackface," those who apparently should have been offended most, like Louis Armstrong, Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, and Miles Davis, couldn't stay away even if they wanted to, and that's not even clear. I won't deny that the sort of idioms or tropes used in Porgy and Bess can be troubling to modern sensibilities--I once worked on "Plenty o' Nuttin" and always felt real uncomfortable using the apparently overdone slang[2]--but these are transitory, a product of their time. What stands beyond is the underlying attitude, which is triumphalist, if also realist, way before it's paternalistic. Being somewhat ignorant in these matters, I never realized, as Pierpont points out, that "Gershwin [was] adamant (against Heyward’s advice) on using operatic recitative for the speech of the Negroes and spoken dialogue—flat, gruff, a break in the flood of music—for the intruding whites. The distinction is like that between Shakespearean characters who speak poetry and those limited to prose." This is art, so this is significant. It would be bad to present P&B to someone without a disclaimer that it represents outdated attitudes, but it's also unlikely that anyone in the modern world wouldn't be able to see that instantly; if anything, it's a barrier to enjoyment to be overcome now, like Shakespeare's linguistic anachronisms, not a driver of bad attitudes. Ultimately, the best argument you can make for Porgy & Bess is to play the songs. It's hard to argue with "Summertime." It's very hard to argue with "My Man's Gone Now." But my favorite passage, in a fantastic piece, is this: Gershwin was never much of a formal student. He quit high school at fifteen to This is pop. People will try and make you aware of the bounderies, but it is your duty to ignore them, to avoid their false morality. Certainly you need to be aware of it, to have a sort of humility for your source material, but this is true for all your source material, not just the stuff you take from existing forms. As a songwriter, I think you are humble before the fact that you can produce music from something like thin air. But people want to impose other people's accolades--or the music's own greatness--onto the artist's own outlook. The article indirectly argues that the critical trashing and subsequent commercial failure of Porgy & Bess led to Gershwin's death: his headaches and bad temper were dismissed as the side effects of failure, not a brain tumor, as happened to be the case, and he died at 38, a good 40 years' worth of music unwritten. This is why I yell about this stuff, because it's not just an empty critical debate. Musicians listen to and care about this stuff, even when they shouldn't, even when they know they shouldn't. We all like to bitch about critics, but they do have an effect, over listeners and biz people and musicians. This shit doesn't matter, but it matters. The debates about Gershwin are still going on for a reason--they're unresolvable, and the swing between the two opposing viewpoints actually produce new art with their motions. These are things that should be argued about, but there should always be people pulling against the critical consensus, because that's what opens space in the middle for music to be made. [1] The fact that MIA isn't Gershwin in at least 5 different way--but is Gershwin in at least 5 more--is a subject for my actual MIA post. [2] Although I doubt modern instances of white kids trying to speak all in ghetto-talk are going to fare much better in 75 years. posted by Mike B. at 11:51 AM 0 comments
Friday, February 04, 2005
PISSED-OFF ROCK 'N' ROLL BON MOTS
God I hate Corin Tucker's voice. It's like a drunk Grace Slick after a few women's studies classes trying to sing while someone dribbles a basketball on her stomach. posted by Mike B. at 5:13 PM 0 comments
Hi.
So I am still swamped with work. But could someone please transcribe and then e-mail or post the lyrics to MIA's "POP" aka "MIA" so I can show everyone how they're wrong? I'll do so tomorrow. Many thanks. Because this is pissing me off. posted by Mike B. at 1:11 PM 0 comments
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Oh, my little clappers, the things I have to say to you. But right now I am stuck in tax form and apartment-hunting hell, so I can't. But soon.
posted by Mike B. at 10:44 AM 0 comments
|
|