Monday, February 27, 2006
Is Depression Delusional?For all the verbiage in your archetypical indie comic--let's just use Chris Ware as the best example ever of this--there seems to be an unasked question that's posed over and over again by the art: is depression delusional? It's something that could stand to be asked more often in other venues, because the answer would seem to be kinda yes. Depression is something that, more than anything else, changes your perceptions--it takes an object, a person, an activity, or an idea that you previously had a positive or neutral attitude toward and turns it negative, and no matter how much you might try to rationally convince yourself it's not true, it's a perception you can't shake. It overtakes your mind and refuses to leave. You perceive things--emotions, value judgments, opinions, sure, but things nevertheless--that aren't there, or that probably aren't there anyway. And it does this in a way that seems like a veil has been lifted, that a curtain has been drawn, rather than that it's simply another overlay. Before, life seemed worth living, now it doesn't, and not because anything happened--life seems like it was never worth living, or that it hasn't been worth living for some time now. You were a fool for thinking otherwise. And so while the text of a comic might stick pretty strictly to reality, the visuals depicting said reality quite frequently diverge by depicting the interior life of the narrator or characters and then taking those to a certain conclusion while the text continues as before. It's a reliable, if greatly embellished, model of that interior life, but the way it's presented has a physicality that mere thoughts do not. This is one of the things comics do well, of course, playing with the reality of visuals, lacking as they do the full real-world correspondence of the movies but still having a lot more than regular ol' words. It registers as a passing thought but then when you turn back it's still there. The text is presenting these ideas as transitory but the art is drawing them out in such detail that they acquire a realistic force, and in this way are analagous to the "restless thoughts" syndrome of depressive lying in bed, unable to sleep--modeling it without resorting to the literalism that would require a lot more repetition and self-centered bathos than good art can support. (Most indie comics already pushing at the acceptable limits of self-centered bathos as they are.) When a depressive thinks about these negative perceptions, this is what they do--spinning out imagined situations into the worst possible conclusion, the effort of doing so imprinting in their brains, as if they were studying this worst-case scenario for a test, to the degree that it can seem, in some subconscious way, as if it actually happened, or actually could happen, and this perception overriding any subsequent ones in a frankly delusional way. This is in its way not unlike religious belief, and more specifically like the similarly unacknowledged push-pull between "good Christianity" and "bad Christianity." Religion is a bit of a delusion too, although of course putting it that way makes it sound like a negative. Still, it's essentially an occupying metaphor that colors the way you see the world. This is something believers are happy to talk about: the way the world looks different after you accept God into your life. But it seems like American evangelicals seem to have a sort of "bad Christianity" going on that's in its way oppositional to "good Christianity" (St. Augustine, tortured faith, scholarly theologism, etc.) in the way that mainstream comics are oppositional to indie comics, or indeed the way mainstream and indie values are seen to be oppositional from the indie perspective. "Good Christianity" is valued, if it is valued at all (and I like to think that it is, though that may itself be delusional), for its acknowledgment of a broken world, of original sin, of human suffering as something that needs to be justified, not excused; lessened, not deducted for year-end faith tax purposes. American evalgelicals seem to work around this by making faith personal, a conversation between yourself and the godhead that acknowledges no one's suffering but your own, and whose ultimate goal is redemption, not acceptance. But it's a false dichotomy, of course; seeing one view of faith as more legitimate than the other simply because it smiles less is indicative of a reductive worldview and is at least as delusional as the depressive view, although oddly enough this anti-depressive statement is in its own way just as depressive-delusional: the revelation that things are bad is not correct, the one that things are good is. Neither is necessarily true, and this is why faith seems problematic. Declaring something delusional takes a whole bunch of issues of responsibility off the table. When your mental illness is delusional--that is, when you have full faith in the perceptions that you're basing your actions on--you become a much more passive actor, something that you'd probably want if you're depressive. If your mental illness is one that's not delusional, like, say, Tourette's Syndrome, you become open to charges of fakery and you start to think, ironically enough, that you might actually be delusional--that you are imagining your non-delusional disease. Faith seems easier, but of course when you put it in terms of mental illness, the two are clearly not comparable. Depression or delusion under this scheme is much closer to the "bad Christianity" of unquestioning faith, and the "good Christianity" of wrestling with issues of belief is, oddly enough, not depressive at all. It's declasse--pretentious is maybe more specific--to worry about the reality not of artists but of the world. Luckily, there are backhanded ways of getting at it that artists are deploying all the time.
posted by Mike B. at 6:54 PM
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What is that little freaky thing? Usually by this point in the year, I've discovered a few things that I really regret leaving out of my best-of lists for the previous year. But right now, there's only one thing I wish I'd put in, and it is, naturally, a song from a cartoon, in this case an episode of Kim Possible that used American Idol in a plot point for a very Brain-like evil villain's attempt to rule the world. Kim is supposed to sing a song that will win the competition and thus foil the plot, but she is otherwise occupied and so her sidekick, Ron Stoppable, sings a song about his pet instead. His pet is a naked mole rat, and so he does a rap about it, with said rap also fulfilling a creative writing assignment he's been procrastinating about. It should be an absolute bomb, but for some reason, it's not. It's very teenpop, which is good, and the hook's actually fairly fantastic, with the whole thing just being so comfortably silly that to me it sounds like an even better example of this whole quality-fake-rap thing than the SNL skit everyone went nuts for a while back. (It also helps that it reminds me a lot of DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince.) It seems to come from someone who has an understanding of hip-hop production basics and then decided to consciously avoid most of them. There's also something oddly compelling about the way he delivers the chorus. Above is the best option I could find on youtube, which is sadly not how it actually appeared in the episode; there are some pretty priceless cuts and visuals in that which are lost here, so if you've got a chance to see it, it's totally worthwhile.
posted by Mike B. at 6:28 PM
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Friday, February 24, 2006
brave young bachelorsShe Gave OrdersI was thinking about posting the Furnaces' "Teach Me Sweetheart," but Stereogum beat me to it. You should give it a listen if you haven't already. It's an interesting case study when you compare it with the guitar-only version they did on the radio a while back--whereas they had a tendency with the other songy-songs on Bitter Tea to dress 'em up in maybe a few more things than they needed, or to deliberately avoid using traditional arrangements, arguably to the songs' detriment at times, "Sweetheart" clearly needed a little something, since while it does have a very nice melody, it's pretty much one chord a bar, starting right at the beginning of the bar, in two four-chord patterns. So most of the odd little noisy bits they perhaps overuse on the rest of the album fit right in here, especially that high-pitched little backwards loop that runs through most of the song (and is kinda Beatlesy), and that allows all the fancy variations (different keyboard noises, subtle percussion changes, guitar noodling) to come off as much less showy. It all sorta fits here, and while a big part of what they're doing involves things not fitting, when that final little flourish comes at the end, it really hits. This is a different kind of pop purity than on Gallowsbird's, but it's still quite a jolt. ADDENDUM: I'm quite a fan of "Borneo," too.
posted by Mike B. at 11:43 AM
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Power to the PeopleWe've all gotten sick of hearing a certain song on the radio. I first heard Ne-Yo's "So Sick" for the inagural edition of the new Stylus singles jukebox, and I liked it fine. But then, a few weeks later, I started hearing it on the radio. All. The. Time. So now, of course, I hate it, and I really wish the radio would stop playing it. So I decided to do something about it. See, it's not really worth bitching to the radio stations, because they are many, and you are one--plus, they are getting perks to play what they're playing, and you are offering none. But there is one person who could instantly cut down on radio play for a given single, and that is the record company executive who is directing radio promotion efforts for that song. In this case, the guilty party would appear to be Island / Def Jam's head of promo, a probably very nice man named Greg Thompson. Now, I could publish his e-mail and ask you all to bombard him. But that would be super-rude and probably get me in some sort of trouble. So instead, I have created a petition. Here is the petition statement: We, the undersigned, totally think Ne-Yo's "So Sick" is a decent song. Cool, laid-back, catchy, all those kinds of things. The thing is, it's on the radio all the goddamned time. Seriously, on more than one occasion we have turned from one station playing it to another station that's also playing it. While we admire this sort of crossover success, it's getting a little ridiculous.
And so we petition you, Greg Thompson, head of radio promotion for Island / Def Jam, to stop getting radio stations to play the song so much. We're not saying totally pull it--I'm sure if we heard it once in a while (and, just to stress, we are sporadic radio listeners at best) we would mildly enjoy it. But you are wasting your money paying for all these spins. We understand you want to break this dude, but why not play that Ghostface song he sings on instead? We would totally enjoy that. But we feel it is in our mutual interest for you to cut down on the radio play: you will save money, and we will not want to write you snotty petitions like this anymore. We all promise to download it from iTunes or something. Seriously. Please. Go here to sign it. When it's done, I'll send it to Greg.
posted by Mike B. at 11:25 AM
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Friday, February 17, 2006
Oops, forgot to mention that I have two reviews in Flagpole this week. One is of the Future Retro comp and the other is a probably needlessly mean review of Boysetsfire, but man that album pissed me off. The difference between simply having a sore throat and having an actual cold is that when you try and write something intelligable, it's like playing tennis with a ball of wet newspaper. Still, I'll try and get something up today, weather permitting.
posted by Mike B. at 11:16 AM
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Wednesday, February 15, 2006
A spring wind of marketizationI am currently reading a book called China Pop, which is about Chinese pop culture. It is very good so far, but unfortunately is from 1995, so I'm treating it as a sort of a historical document; if anyone knows of a more recent book covering the subject, please let me know. In the first chapter, the author talks a lot about how Chinese culture changed in the aftermath of Tiananmen Square. She seems to see the modern Chin as springing directly from that event--not just the human rights abuses and political repression aspects but the massive economic growth and urban development too--and has a lot of good anecdotes about elites who felt crushed by it, then joined the business world, and then the pop culture industry. But there are a lot of good broad observations, too, and I was especially struck by this one: Profound cultural differences aside, though, China's post-Cold War social transition is marked by a singularly important factor that sets it apart from all others: the revolution failed in 1989, and the Communist Party stays on to guide and control the reform process.
This is a crucial fact in efforts to understand the peculiar complexities and ironies of China's current situation. It produces a half-baked, sheepish, defensive, cynical, masked, stealthy, and often comic atmosphere in which China's reform zigzags ahead. Instead of dramatic, exhilarating breakdown of old regimes, as occurred in Eastern Europe and Russia, what we witness in China is a slow, soft, and messy meltdown of the old structure. I would whimsically refer to this as "the Whopper effect": there is an impure, junky, hybrid quality in nearly all spheres of the present Chinese life--culture, politics, attitudes, ideology. This is not romantic, not a picturesque scene for the cameras. It's too blurry, too slippery, often shamelessly vulgar. Who can blame the CBS, ABC, and NBC anchors for not having rushed back since Tiananmen? To some, it might be akin to filmin a merry, grotesque banquet on the ruins of a slaughterhouse. (She then goes on to quote former activists saying a) the Tiananmen students weren't protesting for democracy, they were protesting against economic hardship and injustice, and b) that the country would be much worse off today if those students had succeeded!) It's an interesting little passage, because not only does it invoke a lot of the qualities I like to see in pop culture (impure, hybrid, slippery, shameless, vulgar) without actually placing an explicit subjective value on them, but it depicts these qualities as flowing directly from the political system under which the culture is created. We tend to think of political systems as reflecting the culture they come from, but in China we have a pretty clear example of the culture changing in parallel with the political system, although of course in part it's simply adopted aspects of other cultures, primarily Hong Kong but Japan and Korea as well, and amping them up. There are certainly practical reasons for this, but the pratical reasons are mainly negative freedom rather than positive freedom, and when you contrast it with the forced cultural change of Maoism, it's revelatory, I think. The culture is like the politics: new, vital, and vaguely troubling while also endlessly fascinating. Of course, it also makes me want to map it back onto American pop culture, and wonder if maybe this country's pop culture vitality isn't due to the native qualities it's usually attributed to--individualism, entrepreneurism, ahistoricism--but rather reflects the often-overlooked fact that our political system is a hybrid, too, and indeed, this is a big reason for why it's been so vital. The phrase "Western-style democracy" is often invoked, but it lumps together a lot of different systems. American government was never really democratic, and this was one of its strengths--the republican aspects of American government are as important as the democratic ones, and the lack of republicanism in certain foreign "democracies" has been a reason for their failures. So I think American pop culture tends to reflect both this hybridization and its privledging of democracy over republicanism with the widespread "guilty pleasures" complex. The rhetoric of American pop is often at odds with its reality, and the error people make is in assuming that this disconnect needs to be resolved by hewing to the rhetoric. But we'd all be a lot better off if we were able to acknowledge and embrace the reality of the duality. Chinese pop seems to have a whole other set of issues, though. More on this as I go along, I hope.
posted by Mike B. at 3:47 PM
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Claps of Death MetalLord Viscuvious & friends - Claps of Death MetalAs promised, here is the death metal song made according to Strong Bad's rules. Miss Clap sang backup and a lovely Valentine's Day was had by all. If you'd like the lyrics, I can post 'em later. Warning: there is a dramatic intro. ADDENDUM: Lyriques-- Deconstruction, Deepak Chopra, detonate! (chugga chigga wugga) Delicioso, delicate flower, defrock! (chugga chigga wugga) Declaw, de-lovely, decapitate! (chugga chigga wugga) Decadent Weimar Republic, decapitate! (chugga chigga wugga) Debutante, decompose, defrost, deflation! Demagogue, den mothers, Deutchmarks! (chugga chigga wugga) Demi Moore, Def Jam, Delaware! (chugga chigga wugga) Raaaaagh! Raaaaagh! Raaaaagh! Raaaagh! oops, totally did decapitate twice! Well, it is a great word.
posted by Mike B. at 2:06 PM
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Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Cyn nicely sums up the mixed feelings I have about The Vagina Monologues: I'm glad that the Vagina Monologues exist, and it's nice that people organize the productions and the proceeds go to support women's issues and all of that. I guess I'm just sort of bummed that it feels like this is the big feminist event on campus, that a bunch of college girls get to giggle about vaginas and feel virtuous about it, and then we all go back to having no women in science and getting paid sixty cents on the dollar or whatever it is. (picture via demonbaby, which I have not heard of before but which looks good, i.e. I came across the picture by searching for "vagina talk")
posted by Mike B. at 1:25 PM
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I come for the wuggas, but stay for the jiggy juggasOn Sunday I woke up with a throat that was fairly well closed. There was no particular reason for this, since I only had two beers the night before, and (as mentioned below), one of them was partially gargled. But my loss of voice is the blogosphere's gain, because together, we will construct a death metal song according to Strong Bad's rules! You can get the full details here if you haven't seen it already, but in sum: "ugly, Nordic, bowels, d-e words." I will provide the ugly Nordic bowels, but I need you to provide the d-e words. Here is an example: DEFENSESTRATE! (jugga jigga wugga) DECEMBERISTS! (jugga jigga wugga) DELOITTE AND TOUCHE! (jugga jigga wugga) Give me your d-e words, and I will sing them in my raspy throat-voice over a death metal backing. (Note: it may not actually be to-the-letter death metal, as I don't actually have my guitar at home, but it will be, um, metalish?) I will then post an MP3 tomorrow. (I sang Miss Clap a Valentine's Day song in this style this morning. I believe the lyrics were: VALENTINE'S! (jugga jigga wugga) VALENTINE'S! (jugga jigga wugga) I LOVE YOU! (jugga jigga wugga) YOU ARE PRETTY! (jugga jigga wugga)) But since I am going to post it tomorrow, that means YOU NEED TO POST YOUR D-E WORDS BY 7 PM EST TODAY. I don't know how long this lovely throat condition is going to last! So, in sum: d-e words (or phrases), in the comments, by 7. Go!
posted by Mike B. at 11:08 AM
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A brief addendum to my food post: although I mentioned both bad fondue and my friend Janine, I would just like to clarify that my friend Janine's fondue is not bad. In fact, it is delicious, and I would be very sad if she stopped making it.
posted by Mike B. at 11:04 AM
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Monday, February 13, 2006
I know this is just the picture that went with the story, but it's pretty much impossible to beatPlease get out of the new one if you can't lend a handI haven't exactly had tons of time to click around today, but I didn't notice anybody commenting on the article in the Sunday Times about hip-hop tours: Today, for the price of $70, the Hush Tours bus whisks visitors to the Grand Concourse in the Bronx, making stops at, among other places, the Graffiti Hall of Fame at 106th Street and Park Avenue, a schoolyard featuring enormous murals by some of the city's top graffiti artists, and Bobby's Happy House, a record store owned by Bobby Robinson, the onetime proprietor of Enjoy Records, which released some of the earliest hip-hop singles.
At the Graffiti Hall of Fame, there is a Disneyish touch: Caz distributes Kangol hats and fake gold chains with dangling dollar-sign pendants to the tourists, who cross their arms and strike B-boy stances for snapshots in front of the spray-painted walls. Harlem residents have seen a lot over the years, but a gaggle of white tourists dressed like LL Cool J circa 1985 is something new. In and of itself, this is fine, and actually kind of cool; as the owner points out, you can get a country music history tour in Nashville (and I know at least one person who had their eyes opened to country through one), so why not let people see the sites of hip-hop's birth? (Although this does make one consider the possibility of the Bronx River housing project being somehow turned into a tourist attraction, which is both unlikely and hilarious. Maybe they'll build a scale replica in Times Square?) It seems both slightly odd and, in retrospect, inevitable. What's strange is the attitude that gets displayed on the bus. As the article puts it, the tour is "an argument about authenticity," with tour guides, many of whom are figures from the early days of hip-hop, saying things like, "Today you're going to learn what hip-hop is and what it's not. It's not just rap music, and it's definitely not just the 10 records you hear over and over again on the radio." The author does a good job of shooting down this attitude, calling it "nostalgia" and pointing out things like how the gansta rap era is now longer than the so-called "golden era" of hip-hop, asking, "Does anyone really believe that Spoonie Gee and Whodini were better rappers than, say, Snoop Dogg or Ludacris?" (He declines to note, though, the disconnect of talking about authenticity on a tour bus.) There's one thing, though, that maybe deserves to be explicitly addressed: "We have a real thing in hip-hop about out with the old, in with the new," Ms. Harris said. "I'm shocked about how little awareness of history there is, especially since so many people are making so much money in the rap industry. There's much more awareness of hip-hop history in other countries."
Artists like Grandmaster Flash tour regularly overseas, where they draw far bigger audiences, and Ms. Harris estimated that 80 percent of Hush Tours' patrons are "international visitors." Sure enough, a recent tour included just four Americans, along with tourists from England, France, Germany, Australia and Kenya. In this respect, old-school rappers and D.J.'s have in recent years become similar to jazz musicians, who have long experienced rapturous receptions in Europe and Japan while struggling at home to find respect and decent-paying gigs. This hardly seems like a problem. I understand why you'd want to get a piece of that mainstream dollar, but don't try and blame it on a defect with America. The reason old-schoolers can get better gigs in foreign countries is because it's not a live art there. Certainly there are skilled practitioners in those countries (I've heard a surprisingly large amount of good French rap), but hip-hop isn't part of the culture in the way it is in America. Hip-hop dominates here, and it seems really hard to argue that this is a bad thing, that keeping the art so alive and so fresh is really worse than it actually becoming like what jazz is now (and jazz finally becoming an offshoot of classical gas). Hip-hop is just mind-bendingly vital right now, going in twelve directions at once because there are just so many damn people doing it and so many ideas left to explore, even if there are stretches where every album that crosses my desk seems to have hit the "default crunk" button on their produce-o-bot. It's one thing to say that Grandmaster Flash got screwed over by his record company. It's a whole other thing to complain about more people wanting to see Jay-Z than wanting to see him. If anything, we should be worried that old dude Jay's still drawing the crowds he does.
posted by Mike B. at 6:37 PM
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This, sadly, was not representative of our experienceSome notes on foodWent to a place called The Chocolate Room on 5th Ave in Brooklyn on Friday. Maybe my expectations were too high (when you've just polished off a diner grilled cheese and fries and someone suggests a walk concluding in chocolate fondue for dessert the reaction tends to be something along the lines of FUCK YEAH) but it was pretty meh. The whole setup was very nice and as a place to sit and consume things it was great, assuming you ignore the part where they put 6 of us at a table clearly made for 4. And it certainly could've been worse--I've had chocolate fondue before that was just sickening, over-sweet and dense as fuck. But it still wasn't too impressive. It wasn't too rich but it was heavy, and not really all that flavorful, so it ended up striking me as heavy for the sake of being heavy. It would be a plus that it was neither too sweet nor too bitter if it was much of anything at all. Not bad by any means, but not necessarily worth seeking out. Everything was made by them for them, and one of my companions did have a very good tart (and another had a brownie sundae that looked great), but the homemade chocolates we got to go impressed Miss Clap but again, meh-ified me. (Although I did not taste the caramel-and-sea-salt one, which sounded great.) Then again, I guess my taste in chocolate runs in the Hostess Cupcake direction, i.e. decidedly downmarket and nothing too high-percentage. I would feel self-conscious about that were it not for dips like this one, who ends up sounding like a french Dr. Nick. I appreciate that she's not making the "milk chocolate=bad" argument, and I of course am with her in the alleviating guilt thing, but when you start arguing that said guilt then actually causes a physical reaction that makes you enjoy the thing less, I start backing away slowly. When I've had good chocolate I think it's been less due to the quality of the chocolate itself and more to the fillings or add-ins, although of course a good base is nice. Still, I've had lots of expensive-ass chocolate that didn't rise to the level of a Crunch bar. Speaking of candy, I was getting sleepy at the Electric Six show on Saturday, so Janine gave me some caffienated candy. But this was not those mints you may have heard of: they were coffee or hazelnut flavored. Having associated the smell of hazelnut with cloudy Mr. Coffee pots for as long as I can remember, I chose the coffee option. Man, was it bad. I am told it tasted like bad truckstop coffee, which would make sense as she bought it at a truckstop, but having only had a really bad truckstop doughnut, I couldn't say for sure. Still, I ended up gargling with beer to try and chase the taste away. Janine likes 'em though.
posted by Mike B. at 6:07 PM
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Friday, February 10, 2006
Our Love It Forms a VTwo posts down, I presented a picture of Billy Joel, Christy Brinkley, and a bunch of other guys. I'm not going to reproduce it on this post, because, to be honest, it was weirding me out to click on my blog and see some like 80s version of lastnightsparty show up on my screen. But here is a link to a large version. As I said, I'm fascinated by it; there's just so much going on there. It's one lady, who is also a supermodel, and a bunch of band nerds that are now in rock bands, all male, of course (this was the 80s)--9, to be precise. The lady is quite clearly trashed, having fallen onto something or other (I kept thinking it was a garbage can, for some reason, but it's not) while pincing an empty champagne glass between her thumb and middle finger. Her posture reminds me of this, actually: ...except with her head and legs propped up. All the dudes who aren't married to her are doing the thing where they're carefully avoiding the center of gravity, pretending they're not interested, that there's not a really hot drunk girl supine before them. Even the dude on which she is obliviously resting her head is managing to do this, which is quite impressive. All except blondie, who has taken what might delicately be called the opposite tack, placing himself between Christy's legs (or "gams" as they seem to demand to be called) and taking a fairly friendly grasp of her right calf, which is of course sculpted and lovely and reflective of the very pleasant way calves (all calves, really) fit into hands. I have always felt that there's no such expression as a leer, that it's just a handy way of summing up a whole attitude, but if what's floating above that dude's shirt, which is actually a baseball jersey with his band's logo on it (!), isn't a leer, I don't know what is. And above all this, figuratively and literally, is Christy's either current or soon-to-be husband, Billy. He's the only person in the photo not smiling and not looking at the camera. He refuses to be distracted from doing what he's doing, although you could make a series of guesses at what that is and not be right. At first blush he simply appears to be extending his hand in order to help Christy back to her feet, but then you look up and you see his mouth open as if he's saying something, something that is undoubtledly along the lines of "C'mon, honey, it's time to go," at which point you examine the hand again and notice it's less offering assistance and more beckoning. But Christy isn't acknowledging him at all--she's not awknowledging anything except the camera, as is her tendency, you'd imagine. But nor is Billy acknowledging blondie, the dude between his lady's legs, which is also indicative: the conflict here is not between the two men, it's between the man and the woman. The man is using guilt, and the woman is using avoidance. It's a lovely photo just as a photo, and although I don't know a damn thing about art, it seems like it's classically composed: you could draw an offcenter triangle there and pretty well contain the major action in the frame, and your eye is led around all sorts of places. It somewhat reminds me of this: Aside from its function as an image outside of context (aside from knowing that Joel and Brinkley are romantically involved, without which knowledge he could easily be her father or brother), it's interesting even beyond the fact that you can see the end of their marriage here even as it's a situation (drunken revelry) that would be more typically associated with courtship and the conflict more clearly at play, jealousy, did not seem to be a factor in their divorce, although what the hell do I know. No, the most interesting contextual thing about this picture is the way it perfectly represents an oft-overlooked aspect of the Billy Joel oeuvre. He's known for his more ridiculous, over-the-top stuff, but a crucial element of the Joel persona is the air of defeat that clings to him even when he's playing, you know, like a dozen sold-out shows at MSG in a row. He's a loner, but not in that cool way--more in the way you see in this picture, where the dark cloud above his head manages to maintain structural integrity even in a situation where everyone is having a rollicking good time. It's a dark cloud that seems reflective of an eternal dissatisfaction, a feeling that nothing he ever does is really good enough, and so that air of defeat is less imposed from outside as it is with your stock Willy Loman types and more burbling up uncomfortably from within. It's an emotion that can repulsive, but when it's expressed in the right context, it cuts right to the heart of pop's bad mood, the most well-known modern example of which is Blur's "Country House."The other bit of context springs from the guys surrounding Joel and Brinkley (if we're following the classical composition thing, blondie is an ancilliary character, dude in the white shirt with the nerd glasses is like the dude behind the window, and boy would I love to know his deal, and everyone else is actually background, like they should be furniture or drapes or something), who are all members of an apparently Blues Hammer-type band called The Nighthawks, and if you look at the page this picture comes from, you will see that the only description is "With Christy Brinkley and Billy Joel." In a sea of unremarkable (and even somewhat embarassing) performance photos, you have this one picture that's utterly amazing, and all you have to say about it is "With Christy Brinkley and Billy Joel"? Unfuckingbelievable.
posted by Mike B. at 4:59 PM
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Morrissey - Suedehead (Sparks Remix)My first impulse is to explain the goodness of this song by saying that it takes Morrissey and puts him in a Sparks context. But that isn't really sufficient; recent DFA remixes have demonstrated quite well that simply applying your style to a preexisting piece of music in no way guarantees good results, even if the style in question is a good one. Certainly Sparks are working their recent sound here, symphonic not only with its melodic instrumentation but with its percussive as well, but still working somehow (and in this way unlike some of their more recent material) as electronic music in a way that, say, P. Glass' cover of Aphex Twin songs don't. Mr. James was reworking art-music tropes in a dance-music context (eek!) whereas Sparks are reconfiguring pop-electronic tropes in the orchestral form, in the process coming as close to film scores of the 30s as they do to, say, Handel. I think the abstract frisson of this particular track comes not from Sparks applying their template to any old "that's not like Sparks!" genre, but a specific one: over-emotive acoustic balladry. You can hear those sort of songs with string arrangements, but not like this one; indeed, what's noticable is that they're working with a track that already has a string arrangement and simply by giving it a different one makes it sound new. Maybe it's just the beat or the sharp edges, but my guess is that it's clearest in the contrapuntal breakdown that comes around the four-minute mark. Sparks layers Moz's vocals in an ingneous and fascinating way, creating both melodic and linguistic relations that weren't there before, but what's significant is that they're so layered, you can't make out the all the words. This is something you could never see Morrissey doing, but it works remarkably well, and results in a quite unique piece of music. So in the end, I think the success should be ascribed not only to the choice of genre, but to the particular member of that genre they're focusing on. It's a great song, but in a way it could be most any Morrissey song; what matters is the way Sparks, by chopping up the vocals, highlights certain tendencies of the source (in this case, the hidden harmonic relations in the vocals) and its connections with the remixers. ( Buy Future Retro, from which this track was taken) ( Buy Viva Hate, which contains the original "Suedehead")
posted by Mike B. at 4:27 PM
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Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Two things in Flagpole this week: a Belle and Sebastian review, and a piece on Billy Joel's first-person love songs and the productive role of bathos in realist art. Give that one a read, at least, I think it turned out very well. (I love the picture above, by the way--I've never seen it before but the whole scenario fits kind of perfectly with what I'm talking about. There's a bigger version here if you really want to appreciate the expression on Billy's face. It's amazing.)
posted by Mike B. at 10:57 AM
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Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Here are some of the many reasons you need to watch the video for Miranda's "Don" right now: 1) Hot girls in nurses' outfits. 2) The nurses' outfits apparently involve short skirts, which is as customary in Argentina as it is in 80s hair-metal videos. 3) The hot girls in nurses outfits with short skirts doing a synchronized dance involving bedpans on sticks. 4) And then another one with just their hands around the singer's head. It's a syncronized finger dance. I want to learn it. 5) The singer looks either like Noel Gallagher if he grew up as a nerd or Mr. Bean if he was trying to be sexy. 6) Another dude looks like someone from an Australian new-wave band. This doesn't sound impressive, but it is in context. 7) THE VISUALS FOR THE GUITAR SOLO WHICH INVOLVE A CHURCH HALLWAY, A CAPE, AND GLOWING. Man, now I really want to know what the hell they're saying. I am going to attempt to "embed" it here. Wish me luck.
posted by Mike B. at 6:09 PM
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Writing About Music is Like Writing About Politicsor,I Don't Care What You Say Anymore, This is My LifeOne of the nice things about getting to the point as a writer where you can reasonably assume people are familiar with your outlook that I can say things like what I am about to say and people will know I'm not being glib or ironic: the infamous "42 page document" that is the Justice Department's January 2006 white paper laying out their justification for the NSA's warrantless wiretapping program, a/k/a " Legal Authorities Supporting the Activities of the National Security Agency Described by the President," is, despite the clunky title, one of the best pieces of criticism written in the past several years. (At least in the way awards shows seem to mean "best," but that's still kinda best.) Oh sure, the writing's not the best, but that's the sad dictates of the medium of white papers; as a piece of criticism, though, it's amazing. Doubt that it's criticism? It's doing close readings of a series of texts in order to justify a particular theoretical point of view--of course it's criticism! There's a narrative, an unstated but clearly present ideological point of view, a dense mass of jargon and uncontextualized referents, and like 23 footnotes. There's no bibliography, sure, but that just intimidates a popular audience anyway. Partially it's like criticism in that it's entertaining if you know the context (the first section heading after "Summary" is "The Attacks of September 11, 2001," which is like the administration's version of Marxist rhetoric at this point, invoked without explanation in the assumption that everyone knows what it means so many times that it's ceased to mean anything, so now it's just an in-joke), but mainly it's like criticism in that it processes a mountain of selective evidence through an ideological filter in order to prove a counterintuitive proposition, like "revolution is good" or "pop culture is bad" or "punk was basically Situationism," suggesting that if Greil Marcus really wanted to be making bank, he'd apply for a job as a government lawyer. ("I am particularly proud to have worked on the critical project that made rock music discursively valid" or maybe "You are the punkest governor ever!") What's all over this document, as indeed it is all over the administration as a whole, is a serious anxiety of influence. Everything is presented in terms of a conscious break with the past (" pre 9/11 mind set,"), even though they're well aware of history and indeed in many ways are just referring to supposedly outmoded ideas[1], in order to create a kind of messianic atmosphere that meshes perfectly with modern political imagery. They're misinterpreting what's come before and rejecting it, and in the process making something new that sure seems a lot like what's come before. That's administration policy, but one of the reasons why this white paper is such an amazing document is the way it distills this philosophy. It's practically a manifesto, except that instead of saying "this needs to change," they're saying "this has already changed, without you knowing it, and it's time to embrace the consequences of that; if we seemed too extreme, it was only because we were the avant-garde, recognizing and acting before everyone else did." It's not just that this 1978 law, FISA, should be overturned; it already has been, through the inevitable march of history and the actions of a few brave forward-looking individuals. (The only way to make Dick Cheney not evil is to regard him as sort of a Cassandra without the curse, tragedy turned grim necessity through the liberal application of power--or, maybe, a one-man Leninist vanguard.[2]) In this way it's just another data point illustrating the way the right has embraced the left's cherished ethos of rebellion. Sometimes it looks like paternalism but in this white paper it's clear it's more "we're gonna do what we want, we don't care about your rules." And this sells because Rock Won. Rock Won because it gave individualism an updated images, of course, but that updated image included something new: an idea of rebellion being a good in an of itself. Times were, America's concern was preserving the republic against destruction, and that simply doing this would preserve freedom. Now the idea is that individualism is best preserved by preventing anyone from bothering you in any way, even if that restricts their or even your freedom. Because you're the rebel: you're the one that's got to stay within a zone of opportunity so you can accomplish the big things you have to do. The right has benefited immeasurably from the pervasive and appealing idea that simply doing the opposite of what's established is positive. This was an effective idea for the left back when what was established was fairly conservative, but they've stuck with it so much that it's starting to eat itself as leftist ideas become established. But the right is eating itself too: the administration's policy now bears little resemblence to actual conservativism. They've rebelled so much they've actually moved beyond core American values to something older than America itself. They're referring to the Constitution in this document but not in their ideology. That's why it's such an amazing distillation: it's taking everything you could marshall aginst their position and using it as ammunition. It's especially impressive in that they actually invoke the War Powers Resolution, the sort of shot heard 'round the world of the issue they're pushing right now, i.e. Presidential power. Even more, what's been progressively done to that resolution by succeeding Presidents is almost exactly analogous to what they're trying to do to FISA. It's like bringing up the elephant in the room and then using it to trample over everyone else. There is an absolute lack of shame, the hallmark of the rebel, but also the nuclear option in political discourse, especially when dealing with things like FISA and the War Powers Resolution that were specifically ennacted in response to behavior that we as a nation decided we were ashamed about. Rock Won. I know it's dangerous to compare things to criticism because it makes it sound like you're trying to minimize them by implying that they could be most properly grasped as examples of a pattern most suited for analysis by college professors. But that's not what I'm doing. I'm trying to elevate criticism here by showing how it's nearly identical to politics. When you look at a political text like this one, you are looking at something that is performative, something that merely by putting together words makes something happen. In this case, it's not as clear-cut an example as it is with a piece of legislation, the ultimate performative text, but it is trying to get a number of things to happen, like not get the President impeached (which is another reason why it's such an amazing document). But this is the case with all criticism; you're trying to massage an idea into existence that will then get out there into the world and influence people's behavior. When people say that art is political, I think that they mean it exists in some sort of political context (although I think they really just mean "historical context") or makes some sort of political statement, but that's not really the main way that statement is true. It's maybe better to say that art is politics, in that it works the way politics way--through discourse rather than actions, and if you're doing the crit-nerd thing of seeing art objects as texts with an idea to push, there's no denying that those ideas end up influencing other artists in the same way that criticism does, or in the same way that legislation influences everyone. Sometimes they even get a little anxious about it. [1] Or, of course, referring to an idealized past--"America wants somebody to restore honor and dignity to the White House"--but honestly, I think that's either background, lazy default, or, um, pre-9/11 rhetoric, not the main stuff, which is very going-forward.
posted by Mike B. at 1:09 PM
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I am linking to the Jukebox thing mostly just to let you know that there will be posts coming today, probably of a political bent. I am most certainly not linking to it so you can admire the quality of my writing, because hoo boy [insert me waving my hand in front of my nose like I just laid a stinker], do I look like an ignoramus. In my defense, the internet was down in my apartment to my building, so I had to walk to the public library and rush to get all my blurbs done in the 30 minutes they gave me to use the computer. And...I was distracted by ice cream? Sure, that's why I messed up the one entry I actually had planned out ahead of time, argh. Anyway, don't let those fools scare you away from the Kapanga track in particular--in my eyes, the first sentence of Dom's blurb reads as a ringing endorsement! And I guess if anyone wants to explain why "You Got the Love" sounds so hollow to me when I can't get enough of "Everytime We Touch," please do.
posted by Mike B. at 10:43 AM
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