Had the immense pleasure of seeing Rufus Wainwright at Radio City Music Hall on Valentine's Day last week. It was my third time seeing him and I will certainly take every opportunity I can in the future. The first time was in the spring of 2001 in Detroit, a few weeks before Poses came out. The second was in New Orleans a few weeks after Katrina. All three were vastly different shows. The first was with a small band (including his pre-fame sister, Martha). Though Rufus was visibly fucked up for the whole show, that band was spot on, with some of the most pristine harmonies I've ever experienced. The second show was just him and a piano (or a guitar). Want Two had been out for a couple years (and Rufus had been clean) and Release the Stars was a thought on the horizon. I will never forget what the first notes he sang in the first song he played, "The Art Teacher," did--gripping, wrenching. He has the most penetrating voice.
If the first show was an artist at his creative peak (and most self-destructive--makes one wonder how connected the two are), and the second a chance to see his virtuosity as a singer/songwriter, the Radio City show was a full-on demonstration of celebrity. It had all the accoutrement of a big budget stage show--flashy lights, costume changes (!!!), even pyrotechnics (I have to admit that I didn't catch the pyro because I had to go to the bathroom and I took the opportunity to do so during "Slideshow" because that song is dreadful). His between-song-banter seems very self-congratulatory and puffed-up, but in an ironic, self-conscious way (also, he is ridiculously funny). His fame allows him to take more risks, though, as demonstrated in his singing to the auditorium with no microphone on the Irish traditional "Macoushla." The overblown spectacle and kitsch of co-finale "Get Happy" (decked to the nines in miniskirt, high heels and fishnets, and his band as dancers in Nun's habits--delightful) was positively decadent.
While I think his songwriting has seriously suffered in recent years--admittedly, Release The Stars still takes me over, though about half of it is boooor-ring--he is still incomparable. And, as evidenced last week, he is an incredible performer. Although, I maintain that he needs female back-up singers. His band on this last tour was all boys, who were great musicians but sub-par singers. Some of those female parts (most of which are Martha's--see "Poses," see "14th Street") are essential to Rufus' songs. Even at the solo show in NOLA he asked for help with the back-up part on "April Fool's" and, though most of the audience was timid, there was one lone voice from the back of the auditorium that made that song soar. Martha was even there at the NYC show--she and their mother, Kate, joined the band for a few songs, including Across the Universe with Sean Lennon--but just let those incredible harmony parts go unsung, or at best sung unsuccessfully.
Wow. Didn't actually mean to write that much about the show. Really wanted to write about Blackout Sabbath, which he announced at the show. Its a voluntary blackout of Manhattan on the summer solstice--a time to ponder what we can all do for the environment. Its a really lovely thing that, like all things Rufus, has a nice layer of cheeseball to it. Anyway, I'm advocating it. Check it out. He's also playing an unamplified, candlelit concert at the Angel Orensanz Foundation on the Lower East Side. Can't go because of rehearsal but I'm looking forward to the YouTube clips.
One last thing. It's really nice seeing concerts in New York and hearing the artists say, "its nice to be home." This happened the night before at the Yeasayer concert, too. Not sure what it is--warmth, comfort maybe. It reassures me that they mean it, perhaps. It's nice.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
Yeasayer at Bowery Ballroom (2/13)
As one of the final shows of their co-headlining tour with MGMT, Yeasayer played a sold-out show at Bowery Ballroom on Wednesday. Since its a co-headlined tour, the bands trade nights as closers. Tonight they played first. Would have liked to have seen their show at Music Hall of Williamsburg on Thursday but was at another Music Hall (Radio City) instead seeing Rufus Wainwright (more on that later). Its a blessing and a curse of the city. I think the Bowery show was a little heavy on the MGMT supporters and expect the inverse of the Music Hall show. Whatever the case, Yeasayer was amazing.
It was my first time seeing them and they were much darker than I expected, a little more upset, unsettled, more aggressive. They have been touring pretty gruelingly for a month (not a great feat for more experienced bands but difficult I'm sure as a first time) and they were visibly worn. Lead singer Chris Keating spoke unfavorablly about the experience. "There's a lot of country out there. And it isn't pretty. Some of it's pretty. But a lot of it isn't pretty." This exhaustion, with, perhaps, an excitement to be back on home turf, had a marked influence on the songs.
The beats were meatier, the builds a little more impatient. Keating had to work harder to get the sound out, inviting the veins. He is more interesting when not tied to the keyboard/noise table, convulsing around, bending and contorting, giving the words and notes a body. This was evident during one of the highlights of the show, an amped-up and more urgent version of "Final Path," a demo song not on the album.
The All Hours Cymbals songs were harsher, more urgent, too. They were lacking in the optimism that is a driving force of the album. Were it not for the lyrics, one would think the band feels we're going down a path of sure destruction. Their final song of the set, "Wait For The Wintertime," I was certain couldn't get any heavier than the album has it. Clearly they found more ferocity in the blizzard of that song. As Keating sang,"that's the price you pay for the summertime," it became clear that it may be more difficult to be optimistic than All Hours Cymbals thinks.
Thankfully, for us at least, that difficulty forces them to dig so far into the beats and rhythms of "Sunrise" and "2080" that, if nothing else, we can dance. And the songs were held together taut by Ira Wolf Tuton flowing effortlessly on the fretless bass and Anand Wilder's Middle East-influenced meandering guitar riffs and those massive harmonies. The band may be taking from several sources, but it is never for personal gain. They are exploring, in search of something. And the songs lend themselves to feeling and expression--to growth. That is a refreshing thing, even when its a little scary.
Which leads us to MGMT, who are a pretty unfeeling band. I like Oracular Spectacular okay, buts its not the most honest piece of work I've ever heard. And for as fun as those songs are, their live set was rather stagnant. Violens, who opened the show, had a nice set. Technically sound, to be sure but a little boring and a little derivative. I'd see them again.
And again, that goddamn thing where no one wants to dance...
Ugh.
mark.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Do You Wanna Dance?
Today I began reading “definitive” biographies of possibly my two biggest heroes. Damned To Fame and Catch A Wave both have been cited as “ the” biographies of a lifetime, following, in great detail, the lives of Samuel Beckett and Brian Wilson (respectively). Starting them at the same time may prove to be too much, as I was a mess today – emotions all over the place. Chapter One brought me near tears in both book’s case (early childhood), and I can’t imagine what the rest has in store.
I have found the lives of these two brilliant artists very mournful for, often times, elusive reasons and their apt biographers have begun to unravel the mystery for me. What specifically were these emotions I was experiencing all day? Where did they come from, and why couldn’t I shake them off?
I believe the first, most natural, response was an ever-increasing sense of wonder at how these men emerged the artists they were. Beckett’s highly sensitive hearing capabilities sent his imagination soaring as a child, as he watched the oft-referenced lurches from his bedroom window. He drifted to sleep countless nights with the far away bark of dogs, the whispers and cries of the trees, the grass, and even the smallest grains of sand skittering across the driveway.
“Everything cries out,” the young Beckett must have thought.
Wilson, weeks before his first birthday, rode contentedly on top of his soon to be highly abusive father’s shoulders. In high spirits, Murray Wilson began singing “When the Caissons Go Rolling Along.” To his amazement, two verses into the tune, his eleventh month old boy began humming along in perfect pitch.
“Finally, a break has come! This boy will be my bragging right,” Murray may have whispered to himself. Columnated ruins domino?
What promise. What exactly the spirit and brains and guts of these two men cost them may be forever debated.
I began to ponder my own childhood. What promise.
Then came feelings of restlessness. What am I doing? Where am I going? There is something bubbling, something working to the surface that needs release. What is the cost and is it worth it? Will I enter decisively? Am I capable of choosing death? I wonder about the times that Beckett pondered these questions. I wonder what Brian would say, in a parallel universe in which he is still emotionally available and engaged. Was it worth it?
Wilson once said more or less that his father beat hit records out of him. He literally once publicly said that. One time. What did he spend his time publicly talking about? Love. Hope. Good vibrations. These signifiers appear in countless Wilson interviews (before and after his “fall”).
Where did Beckett find the love to create people with enduring spirit in a godless wasteland? This, to quote Winnie, “is what I find so…wonderful.”
Before this becomes aimless, I will close. There isn’t a moral here. There is no value in placing someone like Beckett or Wilson or (insert your hero here) on a spinning plate, high in the air saying, “I have to be this good before I die.” I just have to be willing to enter decisively, because, well, my surf’s up.
Seth.
I have found the lives of these two brilliant artists very mournful for, often times, elusive reasons and their apt biographers have begun to unravel the mystery for me. What specifically were these emotions I was experiencing all day? Where did they come from, and why couldn’t I shake them off?
I believe the first, most natural, response was an ever-increasing sense of wonder at how these men emerged the artists they were. Beckett’s highly sensitive hearing capabilities sent his imagination soaring as a child, as he watched the oft-referenced lurches from his bedroom window. He drifted to sleep countless nights with the far away bark of dogs, the whispers and cries of the trees, the grass, and even the smallest grains of sand skittering across the driveway.
“Everything cries out,” the young Beckett must have thought.
Wilson, weeks before his first birthday, rode contentedly on top of his soon to be highly abusive father’s shoulders. In high spirits, Murray Wilson began singing “When the Caissons Go Rolling Along.” To his amazement, two verses into the tune, his eleventh month old boy began humming along in perfect pitch.
“Finally, a break has come! This boy will be my bragging right,” Murray may have whispered to himself. Columnated ruins domino?
What promise. What exactly the spirit and brains and guts of these two men cost them may be forever debated.
I began to ponder my own childhood. What promise.
Then came feelings of restlessness. What am I doing? Where am I going? There is something bubbling, something working to the surface that needs release. What is the cost and is it worth it? Will I enter decisively? Am I capable of choosing death? I wonder about the times that Beckett pondered these questions. I wonder what Brian would say, in a parallel universe in which he is still emotionally available and engaged. Was it worth it?
Wilson once said more or less that his father beat hit records out of him. He literally once publicly said that. One time. What did he spend his time publicly talking about? Love. Hope. Good vibrations. These signifiers appear in countless Wilson interviews (before and after his “fall”).
Where did Beckett find the love to create people with enduring spirit in a godless wasteland? This, to quote Winnie, “is what I find so…wonderful.”
Before this becomes aimless, I will close. There isn’t a moral here. There is no value in placing someone like Beckett or Wilson or (insert your hero here) on a spinning plate, high in the air saying, “I have to be this good before I die.” I just have to be willing to enter decisively, because, well, my surf’s up.
Seth.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Joanna Newsom and Brooklyn Philharmonic at BAM
Friday evening (2/01), had the opportunity to see Joanna Newsom and her "Ys Street Band" collaborate with the Brooklyn Philharmonic (Michael Christie, Music Director) at the magnificent Opera House at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. They played the compositions from her excellent 2006 album Ys from top to bottom, broke, and then she and her band came back to play a handful of older and brand new songs.
The first half brought out what is great about the songs, but it was not the transporting experience listening to the album can be. It seemed more exercised, and I never found myself swept away by her voice, her harp, or the incredibly lush arrangements. Thats not to say that it wasn't beautiful. I found myself thinking a lot about the songs, and came away with a much deeper appreciation for her as a songwriter. The songs are so instinctual, and will fly off in all sorts of directions, looping back over themselves and in and out, to great heights and depths. Sometimes she will stick in some rhythm for so long, vocally, that I start to lose sense of the lyrics. This may be her intent, though, for those moments are usually stream-of-consciousness images that seem to lose themselves in the rhythm. And when she comes out on the other side of them, I am completely spun around. Her performance here seemed more to that bent--a less conscious rendering of the emotional texture of the compositions. The string arrangements however, seemed more conscious and calculated. They seemed to follow her voice around, and cascade and collapse about it, like they were trying to make sense, at least emotionally, of what she was saying. I don't imagine thats an easy thing to do--her words carry a lot of weight. The arrangements, masterfully done by Van Dyke Parks for Ys and adapted and made playable for this orchestral tour by band member Ryan Fransesconi, seemed a separate entity from Joanna and her harp, which is such an interesting team to watch. The most moving piece of the evening came in "Sawdust & Diamonds," my least favorite song on the album, which is simply harp and voice.
In contrast, the second half was much more enjoyable. The songs seemed freer and more playful. They are so by composition's standards, but they also breathed way more. And she became the center of attention, a position, I get the feeling, though she is incomparably modest, she secretly enjoys. Knees bouncing and smiling brightly, she dug into the songs much more. There was no losing of the image to the rhythm like in the first half, she was present on every word. Her voice sometimes gets lost in the moment, in the side of her mouth, or baring down on her throat--probably an effect of the difficulty of playing the harp and singing simultaneously (I can't imagine). On the first new song she played of the evening, it was more open, more penetrating than I've ever heard it. And her fingers, when they gesture after plucking the harp's strings, seem to be somehow attached to them.
The evening took on a whole new meaning for me after a moment that came about half-way through the second set. I had been feeling (without noticing it) particularly happy to be in America after the song "Inflammatory Writ." It sounded to me so quintessentially American, harkening back to folk and western traditional song, by a visionary composer not yet at the peak of her artistic career. And I appreciated where I was, in a gorgeous Opera House run by one of the finest arts institutions in the world. And then within a few songs the band paused to mention Barack Obama and the Opera House erupted. Then her percussionist, Neal Morgan, spoke about how he canvased for Obama, and he brought up Hawaiian Congressman Abercrombie's endorsement of Obama as the first "citizen of the world" to run for president. Again, applause.
It was delightful and humbling and for some reason I started to love the American-ness of everything--Ryan F's banjo, Maggie Gyllenhaal sitting a few rows over, Joanna's boney bouncing knees, "Clam, Crab, Cockle, Cowrie." Can't remember feeling like that before.
mark.
The first half brought out what is great about the songs, but it was not the transporting experience listening to the album can be. It seemed more exercised, and I never found myself swept away by her voice, her harp, or the incredibly lush arrangements. Thats not to say that it wasn't beautiful. I found myself thinking a lot about the songs, and came away with a much deeper appreciation for her as a songwriter. The songs are so instinctual, and will fly off in all sorts of directions, looping back over themselves and in and out, to great heights and depths. Sometimes she will stick in some rhythm for so long, vocally, that I start to lose sense of the lyrics. This may be her intent, though, for those moments are usually stream-of-consciousness images that seem to lose themselves in the rhythm. And when she comes out on the other side of them, I am completely spun around. Her performance here seemed more to that bent--a less conscious rendering of the emotional texture of the compositions. The string arrangements however, seemed more conscious and calculated. They seemed to follow her voice around, and cascade and collapse about it, like they were trying to make sense, at least emotionally, of what she was saying. I don't imagine thats an easy thing to do--her words carry a lot of weight. The arrangements, masterfully done by Van Dyke Parks for Ys and adapted and made playable for this orchestral tour by band member Ryan Fransesconi, seemed a separate entity from Joanna and her harp, which is such an interesting team to watch. The most moving piece of the evening came in "Sawdust & Diamonds," my least favorite song on the album, which is simply harp and voice.
In contrast, the second half was much more enjoyable. The songs seemed freer and more playful. They are so by composition's standards, but they also breathed way more. And she became the center of attention, a position, I get the feeling, though she is incomparably modest, she secretly enjoys. Knees bouncing and smiling brightly, she dug into the songs much more. There was no losing of the image to the rhythm like in the first half, she was present on every word. Her voice sometimes gets lost in the moment, in the side of her mouth, or baring down on her throat--probably an effect of the difficulty of playing the harp and singing simultaneously (I can't imagine). On the first new song she played of the evening, it was more open, more penetrating than I've ever heard it. And her fingers, when they gesture after plucking the harp's strings, seem to be somehow attached to them.
The evening took on a whole new meaning for me after a moment that came about half-way through the second set. I had been feeling (without noticing it) particularly happy to be in America after the song "Inflammatory Writ." It sounded to me so quintessentially American, harkening back to folk and western traditional song, by a visionary composer not yet at the peak of her artistic career. And I appreciated where I was, in a gorgeous Opera House run by one of the finest arts institutions in the world. And then within a few songs the band paused to mention Barack Obama and the Opera House erupted. Then her percussionist, Neal Morgan, spoke about how he canvased for Obama, and he brought up Hawaiian Congressman Abercrombie's endorsement of Obama as the first "citizen of the world" to run for president. Again, applause.
It was delightful and humbling and for some reason I started to love the American-ness of everything--Ryan F's banjo, Maggie Gyllenhaal sitting a few rows over, Joanna's boney bouncing knees, "Clam, Crab, Cockle, Cowrie." Can't remember feeling like that before.
mark.
Happy Super Fat Tuesday!
Happy Mardi Gras, all. How fitting on this day of indulgence that we will also embark on our most politically indulgent venture of recent memory: Super Tuesday, when 24 states will hold their primaries or caucuses. It's so super this year, they added a Duper. That's right: Duper.
In celebration thereof, rather than rattle off predictions and the results of my fervent analysis, I'm just going to link to a couple of things I've read that I liked.
This is by Matt Bai and is from last weeks Times Magazine. Its a look at super-delegates (a confoundingly stupid scheme to keep the party together) that says today's contest will probably render the Democratic contest moot, to be judged by a small body of self-important party officials (who seem to have only the party in mind, not the rest of the world, and who also include the Clintons).
This is Michael Chabon's argument on why everyone should support Obama. It makes sense but I think he's kind of a jerk about it.
And this is by Jesus, er, Frank Rich. Just read it, please.
That's all. Hope you enjoy and that you vote today if you can or if there is a contest in your state.
Dupermark.
update: Obama, too, is a superdelegate. Also, found this article by Marc Lamont Hill on why not to support him.
In celebration thereof, rather than rattle off predictions and the results of my fervent analysis, I'm just going to link to a couple of things I've read that I liked.
This is by Matt Bai and is from last weeks Times Magazine. Its a look at super-delegates (a confoundingly stupid scheme to keep the party together) that says today's contest will probably render the Democratic contest moot, to be judged by a small body of self-important party officials (who seem to have only the party in mind, not the rest of the world, and who also include the Clintons).
This is Michael Chabon's argument on why everyone should support Obama. It makes sense but I think he's kind of a jerk about it.
And this is by Jesus, er, Frank Rich. Just read it, please.
That's all. Hope you enjoy and that you vote today if you can or if there is a contest in your state.
Dupermark.
update: Obama, too, is a superdelegate. Also, found this article by Marc Lamont Hill on why not to support him.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Rise Above
Suddenly this album struck me. I have been listening obsessively for days. I think I need to get this out...
The story goes--Dave Longstreth, rummaging through some old tapes, found the case to Black Flag's Damaged, an album which he was obsessed with as a kid. There was no cassette, only the liner notes. At some point he decides to use his discovery, re-imagining Damaged without revisiting. All he has is his memory, his artistic openness, and his mastery of craft. The result is Rise Above by his outfit The Dirty Projectors, released Sept. 11, 2007.
Even physically, what happens with fingers and drums. Its effortless. The entire virtuosic intro to "Spray Paint (The Walls)" or the guitar breakdown (literally, breakdown) on "Rise Above" feels like the buzz of the appendages themselves are keeping them moving, the body is numb, half-asleep. The fingers just move, of their own accord and out come these jolting and perfectly melodic phrases or waking lilts. The fingers of someone who has been there before, who’s seen it all before, and can’t bring himself to care, but the marks of age are bubbling up to the scarred surface.
But this interpretation of the album hardly scratches the surface of its depth.
For as raw and emotional as the album is, as compositionally sophisticated, and as, yes, beautiful as it is, its still, to its core, punk rock. It is anti-establishment intrinsically in the most gut wrenching and sorrowful and, at least in the title track, hopeful way. It doesn't have to be vocal about it.
It exists behind Damaged, underneath it, and moving through it. With Damaged, Black Flag was unabashed with how fucked up their lives were. They would go out, wreak havoc, get busted by the cops, go home and get wasted. Longstreth turns that into Rise Above, a dissection of what is beneath all that—the fear, insecurities, desire for a better life—manifesting itself in such destructive ways. For that, with its fierce sensitivity and intellect, it is a braver record, deeply indebted to the tunnel-vision of its past, and ready to move on.
In real time, it is a perfect marker of how far we’ve come, how far the walls have been pushed out. Punk rock has been co-opted—a tragedy of modern music, not because the potential for a lot of great art was lost, but that it was allowed to happened at all. The effects of that led to a struggle to create independent music that could not be embraced, could not be spun. And, in a triumph of modern music, of which we are in the throes at the moment, the struggle did not lead us downward in the direction of Black Flag, but upward with more complex, difficult, personal music—music that is changing the landscape of rock ‘n’ roll (an already impossibly vast landscape) on compositional and emotional levels, in ways more profound than bands of the Black Flag ilk could have imagined. A look at the list we’ve created below, and we see artists—Grizzly Bear (who, to me, is the touchstone of this movement, and whose Chris Taylor co-produced Rise Above with Longstreth), Deerhoof, Menomena, Longstreth and co.—that are new pioneers, forging forward, constantly expanding the capacity of rock ‘n’ roll, refusing to accept that there are rules to what goes into a song. Rise Above is a formally masterful work of art. It is radical and beautiful and shows us that independent music may be the last art form where avant garde can actually still exist.
mark.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Elect George Clooney now!
if i may...
(and, yes, this will probably turn into a Pro-Barack Obama rant)
I saw some jerk reading the NY Post on the subway the other day. and the headline read something to the effect of "Obama crushes Hil 55-27." And my reaction was, similar to my reaction that I usually have when I see a Post, "Jesus Christ, Post." I thought, "there you go again making a mockery of our political system." I was all indignant that they were likening the presidential race, "the presidential race, for God's sake!" to a football game. It wasn't until yesterday when I realized how very right they were, in fact. It very much is like that. And suddenly and strangely I was okay with that. Its what it is. And as things is, we have the same expectations of the Super Bowl and Super Tuesday (coincidence? I think not). We have the same expectations of football players and presidential contenders. One might go so far as to say the football players have more in the way of social influence than so-called Leaders of the Free World. We don't expect our leaders to lead anymore. The Office of the President has become that of someone who just does his/her job (or doesn't and lame-ducks it up) without leading his/her people in any way. This is how it is and how people expect it to be. Who really leads this country? Personalities--Oprah, Jon Stewart, um, I don't know Brad Pitt, George Clooney (yes!). Al Gore has said he's had much more influence doing what he's doing now than if he were to be President. Bill has said the same about post-Presidential life. So the Presidency and the race therefor is deemed moot in public perception, leaving it as fodder for entertainment, sport, a reality television show.
But these leaders (or even surrogate leaders) don't want to be President. Real leaders of our country don't want to be President anymore. There are so many better ways to make a difference in the world. And the paths that people venture to make a real difference in the world, probably ultimately disqualifies one from the office anyhow.
So thats part of the reason I'm investing myself in someone who I think maybe, just maybe (and I will SO take maybe at this point) can turn the Office of the President into a place of leadership, again. The remaining Decmocratic candidates' policies are hardly differentiable if pulled out of a hat. But one of them may able to lead a nation of people, who, whether willingly or not, are bonded by this country and its principles. And however cliche they've become, they're actual. It is a good thing. And though the "people" at the Post may be watching the television on Nov. 4 waiting to see who gets to drop the pretty balloons, or who "trounces" whom, there are a lot of people in this country who feel that this is a crucial time for us and we need someone who can lead. I have not known a real leader in my lifetime. And that there is the potential to have someone who is willing to lead who might also be the President is shocking to me.
Speaking of George Clooney, why can't this guy be President? Seriously, this is what we need.
mark.
p.s. I found myself strangely emotional about John Edwards dropping out of the race yesterday. His presence was important to "the cause" and I hope he doesn't disappear.
(and, yes, this will probably turn into a Pro-Barack Obama rant)
I saw some jerk reading the NY Post on the subway the other day. and the headline read something to the effect of "Obama crushes Hil 55-27." And my reaction was, similar to my reaction that I usually have when I see a Post, "Jesus Christ, Post." I thought, "there you go again making a mockery of our political system." I was all indignant that they were likening the presidential race, "the presidential race, for God's sake!" to a football game. It wasn't until yesterday when I realized how very right they were, in fact. It very much is like that. And suddenly and strangely I was okay with that. Its what it is. And as things is, we have the same expectations of the Super Bowl and Super Tuesday (coincidence? I think not). We have the same expectations of football players and presidential contenders. One might go so far as to say the football players have more in the way of social influence than so-called Leaders of the Free World. We don't expect our leaders to lead anymore. The Office of the President has become that of someone who just does his/her job (or doesn't and lame-ducks it up) without leading his/her people in any way. This is how it is and how people expect it to be. Who really leads this country? Personalities--Oprah, Jon Stewart, um, I don't know Brad Pitt, George Clooney (yes!). Al Gore has said he's had much more influence doing what he's doing now than if he were to be President. Bill has said the same about post-Presidential life. So the Presidency and the race therefor is deemed moot in public perception, leaving it as fodder for entertainment, sport, a reality television show.
But these leaders (or even surrogate leaders) don't want to be President. Real leaders of our country don't want to be President anymore. There are so many better ways to make a difference in the world. And the paths that people venture to make a real difference in the world, probably ultimately disqualifies one from the office anyhow.
So thats part of the reason I'm investing myself in someone who I think maybe, just maybe (and I will SO take maybe at this point) can turn the Office of the President into a place of leadership, again. The remaining Decmocratic candidates' policies are hardly differentiable if pulled out of a hat. But one of them may able to lead a nation of people, who, whether willingly or not, are bonded by this country and its principles. And however cliche they've become, they're actual. It is a good thing. And though the "people" at the Post may be watching the television on Nov. 4 waiting to see who gets to drop the pretty balloons, or who "trounces" whom, there are a lot of people in this country who feel that this is a crucial time for us and we need someone who can lead. I have not known a real leader in my lifetime. And that there is the potential to have someone who is willing to lead who might also be the President is shocking to me.
Speaking of George Clooney, why can't this guy be President? Seriously, this is what we need.
mark.
p.s. I found myself strangely emotional about John Edwards dropping out of the race yesterday. His presence was important to "the cause" and I hope he doesn't disappear.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Our Year In Music...
2007 was a mind-bogglingly good year for music. So much so that when it was over, it felt like a bit of a rest was due. That won't happen, of course, because the ball is still rolling and the momentum of '07 is bowling forward. So to put the year into perspective, we've devised this list of 15 albums that came out last year. It is, in essence, a retrospective to the best albums, but the intent was larger in scope. We want to provide a portrait, a check-point, as it were, as to where we stand (stood) in this moment in time. We want to point people--and maybe our future selves--to the art of our time that has touched us, or that we feel is important or relevant. And though we wanted to represent as much of a cross-section of artists as possible, the landscape, while rich, is not sweeping. Mostly white, indie, rock and roll, which encompasses a surprisingly broad range of sounds. We can't deny that there is some representing going on, as most of the artists are from Brooklyn or New York, or have deep ties to the place. But that is not without good reason. Mostly, though, we want to talk about it. So let's open it up to discourse, shall we?
Music may be the most important art of the modern age. And this, to us, is the most important music of a great year.
1. Of Montreal - Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?
Though it was one of the very first albums to come out last year, its still the one we go back to. We still wake up with the songs in our head, still are infected by the beats, are still in disbelief that something so fun and funny and joyous can be so emotionally raw and personal and dark. The more we listen to it, the more challenging it gets, emotionally and intellectually. It is simultaneously a throwback and a way to the future, but its focus is neither. It is a painfully loving album reconciling the anguish of the past and the uncertainty of the future in hopes of being a full person and finding actual love or something like it in the present. The album's centerpiece, the 12-plus minute, "The Past Is A Grotesque Animal" is an obsessive rant that refuses to let go. It is destructive and terrifying and personal in the purest way--it never feels like therapy. It, like every song on the album, is wild energy focused to a pin's point. Kevin Barnes knows exactly what it takes to ask one's self the darkest questions, and invites us in on a personal quest, accompanied by insanely danceable beats and ridiculously catchy melodies. That this seminal album comes 10 years into their career is a promising shock.
2. LCD Soundsystem - Sound Of Silver
James Murphy makes sounds and sense. They are always truthful and surpsingly touching. He takes his time and we wait for him. He deftly knows what to do to make us laugh, cry, think, and move, usually all at once. 10 months old, but the album feels like its been around forever. The most listenable and move-to-able album out. It hardly does justice to talk about it.
3. The Dirty Projectors - Rise Above
Dave Longstreth has been looking at things from left field for quite some time now, often with exhilarating results. But it wasn't until this year's Rise Above that he bowled us away with all that his imagination was capable of. Black Flag's self contained world of skater punk-dom seems to find a frightening depth when heard through Longstreth's voice and arrangements, all of which are executed with the energy and anarchic excitement that came with the original punk movement. This music is seriously exciting and disarming at every turn, as it juggles a bizarre sense of humor and an ability to cut deep to reveal frightening truths. Longstreth and his band, with Rise Above, help to reaffirm that art will always be able to deeply surprise and transform as long as artists are willing to lay themselves bare, no matter the cost.
4. Radiohead - In Rainbows
Radiohead is a complete artist. Every move they make resonates from top to bottom; from the broadest political or business decision, to every single note that is played or not played on their records or live shows. The thing we get from it is this: when we think they can't take us anywhere else, when they have taken us to what must be the end of the road, they force us to go further. And up until this album it has been by accelerating and pushing our limits (I'm thinking "Sit Down Stand Up"). But this time around, it comes in drastic curves in the road. They aren't forcing us anywhere, anymore--we willingly follow. They baited us with this move to self-release the album (an incredibly bold and inspiring move) and the album is their most precise and shockingly intricate to date. The songs are more disarming and mature. The band is more naked, more sexual than they have ever been. If the tension in Radiohead's music gets any more electric, we might not be able to handle it. But Radiohead has been surprising us all with our own capacity for a very long time.
5. The National - Boxer
The Jesus-Christ-I-know-that-feeling album of the year. Perfectly articulates an inarticulate generation of lovers. See Seth's post from December below.
6. Menomena - Friend and Foe
Each song is a different world, an unpredictable adventure. From the opening kicks of "Muscle'n'Flo," its clear that the album is epic in scope. The songs take unexpected turns that range from elevating, deceptively prog, anthemic oceans to full stops, gentle flicks, grains of sand, while the lyrics remain always simply honest. Its tied together by serious ambition and a wise-beyond-their-years sense of humor. 2007 was the strongest year for drumming in recent memory, and Friend and Foe's beats rank among the fattest. These boys are playing to no one's expectations and are always surprising.
7. Battles - Mirrored
Mirrored is an unparalleled album. There is nothing unconscious about it. It is calculated and skillful and so rock solid. It is a complete work of art, compressed and refracting complex equations into jaw-dropping rock'n'roll. There is a surprise around every corner. Completely in control at all times with wild ambition. Perhaps the most notable display of their ambition is revealed in their stunning live show. These guys are clearly bringing the James Brown, sweating buckets, waking us up to the notion that it really does make a difference to be the hardest working in show business.
8. Deerhoof - Friend Opportunity
When will Deerhoof stop getting better? I am starting to think that this band may not ever slow down, just keep growing and growing until one day the drummer just explodes and takes the whole stage with him. That the man who is able to hold down and execute such complex and insane drum beats might one day explode instead of die seems entirely possible. This stuff is so out there in its complexity that it, at times, feels improvised, effortless. In fact, the whole band gives off that sort of explosive energy; the kind that never lets you settle down, never lets on what is in store next. Not to mention that Satomi Matsuzaki opens her mouth and what comes out is both completely sexy and potentially insane. How can you not fall in love with Deerhoof?
9. Bjork - Volta
This album was entirely slept on. Bjork is an artist in a constant state of reinvention and this album exemplifies that. While not entirely cohesive, it is an experiment in chance from a mother in perpetual motion. Its a manic and maddening album, in stark contrast to her latest releases. Its her best work since the masterpiece Vespertine and with some of the hottest tracks since Post. Bjork found herself from the cutting edge of electronic music to the cutting edge of art. Here, she starts to reconcile the two without looking backwards or forwards, but at what she is right now.
10. Yeasayer - All Hour Cymbals
There is one word that sums up most how All Hour Cymbals feels : refreshing. Its such a clean feeling. Precise, exciting instrumentation and crisp production gives this album a feel that is both worldly and other-worldly. I have no idea where it came from, in the same way that we can't put our finger on where that dazing summer breeze or that bitter winter chill came from. But like those things, it commands our attention. Hopeful and post-apocalyptic, they know where we are, and are using tradition to take us to the future. They shine an optimism onto what they freely admit is a dreadful state of affairs. And the light comes through nowhere brighter than in four-part harmony.
11. Grizzly Bear - Friend E.P.
This album needs to be noted because Grizzly Bear presents themselves as artists with such control over their material that they insist on reinventing and reworking songs most bands would be terrified to touch again for fear of disrupting their beauty. This boldness not only rewards the band and listener with material that meets the former songs. In technique, scope, and depth of emotion, these songs far exceed the tracks featured on Horn Of Plenty and last year's revelatory Yellow House. The album deserves its place on the list not only musically, but philosophically as well. Grizzly Bear is able to eloquently and unabashedly share their search for identity with us, through self-exploration and having their friends pick them apart. It is healing for them and somehow, we are better for it.
12. Beirut - Flying Club Cup
Even if we don't consider that everything Owen Pallett touches turns to gold, its still a very good album with some very good songs. Zach Condon is, in the best way, the natural heir to Rufus Wainwright, who was never able to capitalize on the legacy laid by his first, most grandiose and textured album. Flying Club Cup's soaring melodies and layered instrumentation put Condon at the forefront of young singer/songwriters whose albums, we are certain, will only get better with age. Though some of the songs peter out before they reach the emotional depths they strive for, when they hit the mark, it is breathtaking. For instance, "Un Dernier Verre (Pour La Route)" is one of the most simply beautiful songs of the year. Plus, France is great.
13. Phosphorescent - Pride
A man and his tape recorder, world wise and steeped in folk tradition, uncertain or perhaps disregarding of what is happening with the Brooklyn scenesters, it runs deep.
14. Panda Bear - Person Pitch
Something tells me that Noah Lennox and Brian Wilson would be seriously kindred spirits. It is obvious from any of Lennox's output with both Animal Collective or as Panda Bear that Wilson has been a great influence on him. But the relationship is much more complex than that. Both artists have a tendency to keep their lyrical themes simple and direct so that the quality of their voice tells the emotional story. Both artists have a great deal to say about what the computer is capable of as a musical tool. Person Pitch's shifting musical landscape is so serene and alien at times that we are fairly certain that it must be from the future. Wherever it came from, this album is constantly revealing new layers even nearly a year after its release.
15. Arcade Fire - Neon Bible
This album is so puzzling. The lyrics, on paper, are positively bad. But somehow when Win Butler belts them or lets them out with a breathy whisper, they make a whole lotta sense. It doesn't have the exalting anthems that make us scream for Funeral, but it presents a very strong, impassioned, and we get the impression, burned band flexing its muscles and pounding the pavement. Its a strangely American album that only outsiders could make. And "My Body Is A Cage" is one of the best and certainly scariest songs of the year.
This is how we define 2007.
Please, share your thoughts...
Music may be the most important art of the modern age. And this, to us, is the most important music of a great year.
1. Of Montreal - Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?
Though it was one of the very first albums to come out last year, its still the one we go back to. We still wake up with the songs in our head, still are infected by the beats, are still in disbelief that something so fun and funny and joyous can be so emotionally raw and personal and dark. The more we listen to it, the more challenging it gets, emotionally and intellectually. It is simultaneously a throwback and a way to the future, but its focus is neither. It is a painfully loving album reconciling the anguish of the past and the uncertainty of the future in hopes of being a full person and finding actual love or something like it in the present. The album's centerpiece, the 12-plus minute, "The Past Is A Grotesque Animal" is an obsessive rant that refuses to let go. It is destructive and terrifying and personal in the purest way--it never feels like therapy. It, like every song on the album, is wild energy focused to a pin's point. Kevin Barnes knows exactly what it takes to ask one's self the darkest questions, and invites us in on a personal quest, accompanied by insanely danceable beats and ridiculously catchy melodies. That this seminal album comes 10 years into their career is a promising shock.2. LCD Soundsystem - Sound Of Silver
James Murphy makes sounds and sense. They are always truthful and surpsingly touching. He takes his time and we wait for him. He deftly knows what to do to make us laugh, cry, think, and move, usually all at once. 10 months old, but the album feels like its been around forever. The most listenable and move-to-able album out. It hardly does justice to talk about it.3. The Dirty Projectors - Rise Above
Dave Longstreth has been looking at things from left field for quite some time now, often with exhilarating results. But it wasn't until this year's Rise Above that he bowled us away with all that his imagination was capable of. Black Flag's self contained world of skater punk-dom seems to find a frightening depth when heard through Longstreth's voice and arrangements, all of which are executed with the energy and anarchic excitement that came with the original punk movement. This music is seriously exciting and disarming at every turn, as it juggles a bizarre sense of humor and an ability to cut deep to reveal frightening truths. Longstreth and his band, with Rise Above, help to reaffirm that art will always be able to deeply surprise and transform as long as artists are willing to lay themselves bare, no matter the cost.4. Radiohead - In Rainbows
Radiohead is a complete artist. Every move they make resonates from top to bottom; from the broadest political or business decision, to every single note that is played or not played on their records or live shows. The thing we get from it is this: when we think they can't take us anywhere else, when they have taken us to what must be the end of the road, they force us to go further. And up until this album it has been by accelerating and pushing our limits (I'm thinking "Sit Down Stand Up"). But this time around, it comes in drastic curves in the road. They aren't forcing us anywhere, anymore--we willingly follow. They baited us with this move to self-release the album (an incredibly bold and inspiring move) and the album is their most precise and shockingly intricate to date. The songs are more disarming and mature. The band is more naked, more sexual than they have ever been. If the tension in Radiohead's music gets any more electric, we might not be able to handle it. But Radiohead has been surprising us all with our own capacity for a very long time.5. The National - Boxer
The Jesus-Christ-I-know-that-feeling album of the year. Perfectly articulates an inarticulate generation of lovers. See Seth's post from December below.
6. Menomena - Friend and Foe
Each song is a different world, an unpredictable adventure. From the opening kicks of "Muscle'n'Flo," its clear that the album is epic in scope. The songs take unexpected turns that range from elevating, deceptively prog, anthemic oceans to full stops, gentle flicks, grains of sand, while the lyrics remain always simply honest. Its tied together by serious ambition and a wise-beyond-their-years sense of humor. 2007 was the strongest year for drumming in recent memory, and Friend and Foe's beats rank among the fattest. These boys are playing to no one's expectations and are always surprising.7. Battles - Mirrored
Mirrored is an unparalleled album. There is nothing unconscious about it. It is calculated and skillful and so rock solid. It is a complete work of art, compressed and refracting complex equations into jaw-dropping rock'n'roll. There is a surprise around every corner. Completely in control at all times with wild ambition. Perhaps the most notable display of their ambition is revealed in their stunning live show. These guys are clearly bringing the James Brown, sweating buckets, waking us up to the notion that it really does make a difference to be the hardest working in show business.8. Deerhoof - Friend Opportunity
When will Deerhoof stop getting better? I am starting to think that this band may not ever slow down, just keep growing and growing until one day the drummer just explodes and takes the whole stage with him. That the man who is able to hold down and execute such complex and insane drum beats might one day explode instead of die seems entirely possible. This stuff is so out there in its complexity that it, at times, feels improvised, effortless. In fact, the whole band gives off that sort of explosive energy; the kind that never lets you settle down, never lets on what is in store next. Not to mention that Satomi Matsuzaki opens her mouth and what comes out is both completely sexy and potentially insane. How can you not fall in love with Deerhoof?9. Bjork - Volta
This album was entirely slept on. Bjork is an artist in a constant state of reinvention and this album exemplifies that. While not entirely cohesive, it is an experiment in chance from a mother in perpetual motion. Its a manic and maddening album, in stark contrast to her latest releases. Its her best work since the masterpiece Vespertine and with some of the hottest tracks since Post. Bjork found herself from the cutting edge of electronic music to the cutting edge of art. Here, she starts to reconcile the two without looking backwards or forwards, but at what she is right now.10. Yeasayer - All Hour Cymbals
There is one word that sums up most how All Hour Cymbals feels : refreshing. Its such a clean feeling. Precise, exciting instrumentation and crisp production gives this album a feel that is both worldly and other-worldly. I have no idea where it came from, in the same way that we can't put our finger on where that dazing summer breeze or that bitter winter chill came from. But like those things, it commands our attention. Hopeful and post-apocalyptic, they know where we are, and are using tradition to take us to the future. They shine an optimism onto what they freely admit is a dreadful state of affairs. And the light comes through nowhere brighter than in four-part harmony.11. Grizzly Bear - Friend E.P.
This album needs to be noted because Grizzly Bear presents themselves as artists with such control over their material that they insist on reinventing and reworking songs most bands would be terrified to touch again for fear of disrupting their beauty. This boldness not only rewards the band and listener with material that meets the former songs. In technique, scope, and depth of emotion, these songs far exceed the tracks featured on Horn Of Plenty and last year's revelatory Yellow House. The album deserves its place on the list not only musically, but philosophically as well. Grizzly Bear is able to eloquently and unabashedly share their search for identity with us, through self-exploration and having their friends pick them apart. It is healing for them and somehow, we are better for it.12. Beirut - Flying Club Cup
Even if we don't consider that everything Owen Pallett touches turns to gold, its still a very good album with some very good songs. Zach Condon is, in the best way, the natural heir to Rufus Wainwright, who was never able to capitalize on the legacy laid by his first, most grandiose and textured album. Flying Club Cup's soaring melodies and layered instrumentation put Condon at the forefront of young singer/songwriters whose albums, we are certain, will only get better with age. Though some of the songs peter out before they reach the emotional depths they strive for, when they hit the mark, it is breathtaking. For instance, "Un Dernier Verre (Pour La Route)" is one of the most simply beautiful songs of the year. Plus, France is great.13. Phosphorescent - Pride
A man and his tape recorder, world wise and steeped in folk tradition, uncertain or perhaps disregarding of what is happening with the Brooklyn scenesters, it runs deep.
14. Panda Bear - Person Pitch
Something tells me that Noah Lennox and Brian Wilson would be seriously kindred spirits. It is obvious from any of Lennox's output with both Animal Collective or as Panda Bear that Wilson has been a great influence on him. But the relationship is much more complex than that. Both artists have a tendency to keep their lyrical themes simple and direct so that the quality of their voice tells the emotional story. Both artists have a great deal to say about what the computer is capable of as a musical tool. Person Pitch's shifting musical landscape is so serene and alien at times that we are fairly certain that it must be from the future. Wherever it came from, this album is constantly revealing new layers even nearly a year after its release.15. Arcade Fire - Neon Bible
This album is so puzzling. The lyrics, on paper, are positively bad. But somehow when Win Butler belts them or lets them out with a breathy whisper, they make a whole lotta sense. It doesn't have the exalting anthems that make us scream for Funeral, but it presents a very strong, impassioned, and we get the impression, burned band flexing its muscles and pounding the pavement. Its a strangely American album that only outsiders could make. And "My Body Is A Cage" is one of the best and certainly scariest songs of the year.This is how we define 2007.
Please, share your thoughts...
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Democracy: Beyond the horizon of habits
Been meaning to post on this for a minute. Finally got the impulse to do it. Found this wonderful definition of democracy from that Carl Wilson book about Celine Dion I've talked so much about. This blog is starting to turn into the Carl Wilson Appreciation Society. If it really were, I'd be writing about how I went to his reading downtown last night instead of staying home to nap and clean my room. Anyway...
Yes. I like it. And, though I would rather keep this blog away from the political--but a) how can it not be at this point in time and b) anyone who's talked to me knows my persuasions--I will say that I think there is one candidate--in this election and in my lifetime thus far--that knows this definition of democracy so well, and knows it to his/her (okay, his) core. Wilson is saying that his encounter with Celine helped him to come to this conclusion. It is fitting that HRC, as Wilson points out, picked a Celine song for her primary campaign. My suspicions are, though, that she and Wilson are not on the same page about this.
mark.
This is what I mean by democracy--not a limp open-mindedness, but actively grappling with people and things not like me, which brings with it the perilous question of what I am like. Democracy, that dangerous, paradoxical, and mostly unattempted ideal, sees that the self is insufficient, dependent for definition on otherness, and chooses not only to accept that but to celebrate it, to stake everything on it. Through democracy, which demands we meet strangers as equals, we perhaps become less strangers to ourselves.
Yes. I like it. And, though I would rather keep this blog away from the political--but a) how can it not be at this point in time and b) anyone who's talked to me knows my persuasions--I will say that I think there is one candidate--in this election and in my lifetime thus far--that knows this definition of democracy so well, and knows it to his/her (okay, his) core. Wilson is saying that his encounter with Celine helped him to come to this conclusion. It is fitting that HRC, as Wilson points out, picked a Celine song for her primary campaign. My suspicions are, though, that she and Wilson are not on the same page about this.
mark.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Uh Oh, '08!
Well. It's cold as hell in New York, oil is at $100 a barrel and an essentially meaningless circus is about to begin in Iowa which will determine the tone of election season, in turn determining the tone of the year...2008 is alive. I'd like to extend my warmest welcome to it and a fond farewell to '07. Its been a magnificent year, as far as I'm concerned, especially great for music (in case you are in desperate need of another one and I know you are, expect our always-self-consciously-obligatory-but-somehow-useful- and-ever-so-much-fun best-of list soon). Apparently it was a good year for film but I've really dropped the ball there. Although watching I'm Not There, I was convinced I didn't need to watch another movie ever.
I'm excited for 2008 and the surely great things it will bring.
I'd like to continue on the subject of criticism for a moment, though in a different direction than we've been heading. I'm finishing up Carl Wilson's new book for the 33 1/3 series, Let's Talk About Love: A Journey to the End of Taste. It's a keenly observed and well-researched investigation of why we like the things we like (through the lens of an avant music critic trying to give Celine Dion actually serious attention) and includes a lot of pointed (sometimes scathing, sometimes self-deprecating) critiques of the state of criticism. He also articulates in a disarming way a lot of things that I think are real personal problems in our culture (disinterest in excitement, the meat-grinder approach to new music or art or anything, which disables deep listening and is indicative of or perpetuates deeper issues). Here's a passage from near the end of the book where he is trying to reconcile his distaste for Celine with his feelings:
A little harsh out of context, but he makes some damn good points and I think its makes perfect sense with what we're trying to investigate here. Is it natural to become "disinterested" when we feel that certain sort of pleasure, that "good feeling," that tickle in our tear ducts? Could it be that Finding Neverland is actually a good movie, but my shame at letting it manipulate me into feeling made me tear it apart? (Probably not, actually). It is possible, to play the devil's advocate, that all the sappy gooey good-feeling-ness isn't actually pleasurable, but something people put themselves through out of guilt. Further, I believe there is a lot of "sentimental art" whose vulnerability and tenderness is not actually honest. It is overwrought, indulgent, manipulative even and we let ourselves be fooled. There are those of us who, out of humiliation of being fooled one too many times or perhaps a particularly bad burn or perhaps because everyone else is doing it, will shut it down, cross our arms and refuse to let ourselves or our emotions be taken advantage of. Or we look at it ironically, or cynically. Or we take the piss out of it, as it were. I think this is dangerous. Sometimes it can be so wonderful to just have something...nice.
There is a faction of bands making waves (with me and my heartstrings at least) who are really good at making really nice music, full of tenderness and vulnerability. Midlake is good at it. Grizzly Bear is great at it. Final Fantasy is so good at it, his show at the Bowery Ballroom in November was the catalyst for starting this blog. The music is pure and honest and not schmaltz in the least. If it takes a darker turn, or becomes more aggressive, it is through the artists exploration of their own goodness that it does so. It is not indulgent. It's a gift.
more later.
Happy New Year.
mark.
I'm excited for 2008 and the surely great things it will bring.
I'd like to continue on the subject of criticism for a moment, though in a different direction than we've been heading. I'm finishing up Carl Wilson's new book for the 33 1/3 series, Let's Talk About Love: A Journey to the End of Taste. It's a keenly observed and well-researched investigation of why we like the things we like (through the lens of an avant music critic trying to give Celine Dion actually serious attention) and includes a lot of pointed (sometimes scathing, sometimes self-deprecating) critiques of the state of criticism. He also articulates in a disarming way a lot of things that I think are real personal problems in our culture (disinterest in excitement, the meat-grinder approach to new music or art or anything, which disables deep listening and is indicative of or perpetuates deeper issues). Here's a passage from near the end of the book where he is trying to reconcile his distaste for Celine with his feelings:
"The very greatest art may ball all the shit and nonshit of existence together, the way it comes in life, but on the less exalted tiers, why must art that focuses mainly on what (Robert C.) Solomon calls "the tender emotions" take a back seat to art that focuses mainly on the harsh ones? The hierarchies of antisentimentalism seem to end in a perverse reversal of values...
It's often assumed that audiences for schmaltz are somehow stunted, using sentimental art as a kind of emotional crutch. As Solomon points out, there's no evidence for this slur: isn't it equally plausible that people uncomfortable with representations of vulnerability and tenderness have emotional problems? Sentimental art can be a rehearsal, a workout to keep emotions toned and ready for use. This doesn't dictate that those uses will be appropriate ones, and emotions alone are not solutions to issues, but sympathy and compassion are prerequisites to charity and solidarity. So between the sentimentalist and the antisentimentalist, who is the real emotional cripple?"
A little harsh out of context, but he makes some damn good points and I think its makes perfect sense with what we're trying to investigate here. Is it natural to become "disinterested" when we feel that certain sort of pleasure, that "good feeling," that tickle in our tear ducts? Could it be that Finding Neverland is actually a good movie, but my shame at letting it manipulate me into feeling made me tear it apart? (Probably not, actually). It is possible, to play the devil's advocate, that all the sappy gooey good-feeling-ness isn't actually pleasurable, but something people put themselves through out of guilt. Further, I believe there is a lot of "sentimental art" whose vulnerability and tenderness is not actually honest. It is overwrought, indulgent, manipulative even and we let ourselves be fooled. There are those of us who, out of humiliation of being fooled one too many times or perhaps a particularly bad burn or perhaps because everyone else is doing it, will shut it down, cross our arms and refuse to let ourselves or our emotions be taken advantage of. Or we look at it ironically, or cynically. Or we take the piss out of it, as it were. I think this is dangerous. Sometimes it can be so wonderful to just have something...nice.
There is a faction of bands making waves (with me and my heartstrings at least) who are really good at making really nice music, full of tenderness and vulnerability. Midlake is good at it. Grizzly Bear is great at it. Final Fantasy is so good at it, his show at the Bowery Ballroom in November was the catalyst for starting this blog. The music is pure and honest and not schmaltz in the least. If it takes a darker turn, or becomes more aggressive, it is through the artists exploration of their own goodness that it does so. It is not indulgent. It's a gift.
more later.
Happy New Year.
mark.
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