Little Rock had a modern rock station in the 90s. Not the most revelatory observation there, nor is this: I fully hated it. Every moment – save for the one time that they played Radiation Vibe by Fountains of Wayne – I cursed my town for having such a reductive, jock-jam-toting, Morning-Zoo-Crew having wedge of proto Clear Channel swill taking up my radio’s precious dial space. If I heard Cake one more time, I swore to myself, I would turn into a bell tower shooter.
But as with all things, I had no idea how much worse it was going to get. In a few years, I would be begging for Cake or Presidents of the United States, with their calculated yet ultimately benign slacker anthems. I would pull my car over to the side of the road to have a purifying vomit every time I heard the new playlists of 1997, 1998, 1999, all chock full of muscle-bound rap metal like Limp Bizkit and whatever genre Korn was (I don’t care if I’m mixing up my nomenclature here; all I know is that it was terrible).
I decided, fairly early on, that I hated the 90s. I hated its musical output (on a popular scale at least), but I also came to hate its stylistic signifiers. Goatees made me want to commit acts of violence, as did all the other cultural throwbacks that got wrapped up in the paper-thin excuse of ironic appropriation. For that matter, as I’m sure you will all remember, the word “irony” itself was used so excessively as to have needed retirement for the better part of this decade.
That said, check out this incredible song by the band Human Highway. It’s called “The Sound” and it reminds me of how superlative certain aspects of early-to-mid 90s slacker jams were. The 80s were so baroque and stylish and conceptual and self-absorbed, musically (NB: these are all important and valuable qualities in the making of pop music) that of course the next generation of artists were going to distance themselves, playing more with surface, immediacy, and simplicity. A light, but still profound, cleansing of the palate.
And so it is with Human Highway. This is a side project of one of the guys from Islands, and it is flawless: a careless, gentle, unpretentious song that asks nothing of you other than to nod your head. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and download the Reality Bites soundtrack. Sorry, Human Highway…you guys appear to be a gateway drug.
Human Highway - The Sound (mp3)
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
It's Getting Better All the Time
Recently I've had a couple of friends express to me their reluctance to have children in this messed up modern world. I must then convince them that the world today is better than it has ever been. Anyone who thinks that the past is a better place has not studied much history. And who can blame them when our history books and news media combine to present a thoroughly inaccurate picture of how folks are doing in the 21st century?
People today get their concepts of the past from three very untrustworthy sources: history books, movies and television. History textbooks, as a general rule, still tend to paint the United States with a manifest destiny behind it, where historical figures are larger-than-life heroes in the grand epic of the Western Civilization. Anyone who has read Lies My Teacher Told Me or Guns, Germs, and Steel can tell you that history is a much more complex web of human interaction.
Movies and television give us a sense of the past in a more visceral way. If we watch It's a Wonderful Life or Leave it to Beaver we feel like we get some sense of what life was like in those eras, but we need to be aware that these were illusory images even in their own time. For this reason I highly recommend both the book and movie version of Gangs of New York. Certainly the movie is cartoonish, but either way you learn that New York City in the late 19th century was a horrible place compared to today. People complain about gangs in the recent past, but at least they aren't mercenaries controlled by politicians the way they once were. People complain about government and corporate corruption today, but times were much worse in 1911, for example, when 146 people died at the Triangle Shirtwaist Company fire because the factory safety standards of the day were almost nonexistent. The life of man was truly, to quote Hobbes, "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short," and continues to be so for many people. We must remind ourselves of this. No movie is going to fully show it to us because not many people would want to watch it.
Then there's the news media. 24-hour news in particular is a horrible lens through which to view the world. People forget that the definition of "news," going back to the dawn of newspapers, is "man bites dog" -- the exceptions to the rule, the strange and the tragic. Yes, there are wars, and the one in which we are currently embroiled is misbegotten and nigh intractable, but did you know that wars around the globe have been steadily declining over the last 100 years? Did you know there are currently fewer wars today than in previous decades even? No offense to my friends in the news media, but they make the most money when disaster strikes. Trust them to give you the facts on newsworthy events, but don't expect them to give you an accurate picture of the world in general.
Another part of the problem is how we raise our children. We present the universe to them as a place where justice and fairness prevail and everything makes sense. It's inevitable that we set them up for a fall as they grow to discover how much the world can truly suck.
The big picture is always hard to see, and for everything we gain we often lose something. If I had to give my estimation of it, I'd say the world is a pretty horrific place but that overall it is getting better in imperceptible, incremental ways every day.
People today get their concepts of the past from three very untrustworthy sources: history books, movies and television. History textbooks, as a general rule, still tend to paint the United States with a manifest destiny behind it, where historical figures are larger-than-life heroes in the grand epic of the Western Civilization. Anyone who has read Lies My Teacher Told Me or Guns, Germs, and Steel can tell you that history is a much more complex web of human interaction.
Movies and television give us a sense of the past in a more visceral way. If we watch It's a Wonderful Life or Leave it to Beaver we feel like we get some sense of what life was like in those eras, but we need to be aware that these were illusory images even in their own time. For this reason I highly recommend both the book and movie version of Gangs of New York. Certainly the movie is cartoonish, but either way you learn that New York City in the late 19th century was a horrible place compared to today. People complain about gangs in the recent past, but at least they aren't mercenaries controlled by politicians the way they once were. People complain about government and corporate corruption today, but times were much worse in 1911, for example, when 146 people died at the Triangle Shirtwaist Company fire because the factory safety standards of the day were almost nonexistent. The life of man was truly, to quote Hobbes, "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short," and continues to be so for many people. We must remind ourselves of this. No movie is going to fully show it to us because not many people would want to watch it.
Then there's the news media. 24-hour news in particular is a horrible lens through which to view the world. People forget that the definition of "news," going back to the dawn of newspapers, is "man bites dog" -- the exceptions to the rule, the strange and the tragic. Yes, there are wars, and the one in which we are currently embroiled is misbegotten and nigh intractable, but did you know that wars around the globe have been steadily declining over the last 100 years? Did you know there are currently fewer wars today than in previous decades even? No offense to my friends in the news media, but they make the most money when disaster strikes. Trust them to give you the facts on newsworthy events, but don't expect them to give you an accurate picture of the world in general.
Another part of the problem is how we raise our children. We present the universe to them as a place where justice and fairness prevail and everything makes sense. It's inevitable that we set them up for a fall as they grow to discover how much the world can truly suck.
The big picture is always hard to see, and for everything we gain we often lose something. If I had to give my estimation of it, I'd say the world is a pretty horrific place but that overall it is getting better in imperceptible, incremental ways every day.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Man on Wire
I've long known that the line between genius and insanity is hazy and grey. The few true geniuses I've witnessed in my life always seemed to move inside a fog between clear-minded thought and irrational action. But in 1974 a Frenchman named Philippe Petit walked through that cloud on a 450-pound cable suspended between the towers of the World Trade Center.
His story, Man on Wire, is now available on DVD (and Netflix streaming, where I saw it today). Petit is a self-taught wire walker whose various highwire stunts are more like performance art. To see a man walking through the air one quarter of a mile above New York City is one thing, but to see the planning, practicing and subterfuge that got him there is quite another. Expertly planned madness is almost a contradiction in terms, and yet, there it was.
The most important thing the film gives you is a sense that humans can do the impossible when they are completely focused and dedicated to something. Petit seems to conquer not only fear but rationality itself. If a man can walk on a wire at such heights, kneeling, lying down, crossing the span eight times, taunting policemen...what can't humans do? Perhaps he's simply an expertly skilled madman, but he nevertheless proves what is possible to the rest of us, which is what great artists and scientists do.
If nothing else, I know that the next time I'm overcome with fear or anxiety, I'll have a new high water mark for how much can be accomplished through the rejection of fear and limitations, and the application of focus, skill, and creative passion.
His story, Man on Wire, is now available on DVD (and Netflix streaming, where I saw it today). Petit is a self-taught wire walker whose various highwire stunts are more like performance art. To see a man walking through the air one quarter of a mile above New York City is one thing, but to see the planning, practicing and subterfuge that got him there is quite another. Expertly planned madness is almost a contradiction in terms, and yet, there it was.
The most important thing the film gives you is a sense that humans can do the impossible when they are completely focused and dedicated to something. Petit seems to conquer not only fear but rationality itself. If a man can walk on a wire at such heights, kneeling, lying down, crossing the span eight times, taunting policemen...what can't humans do? Perhaps he's simply an expertly skilled madman, but he nevertheless proves what is possible to the rest of us, which is what great artists and scientists do.
If nothing else, I know that the next time I'm overcome with fear or anxiety, I'll have a new high water mark for how much can be accomplished through the rejection of fear and limitations, and the application of focus, skill, and creative passion.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
The Decline of Western Culture
"When I was a boy, the bestselling books were often the books that were on your piano teacher's shelf. I mean, Steinbeck, Hemingway, some Faulkner. Faulkner actually had, considering how hard he is to read and how drastic the experiments are, quite a middle-class readership. But certainly someone like Steinbeck was a bestseller as well as a Nobel Prize-winning author of high intent. You don't feel that now." - John Updike (1932-2009)
I hear this sort of complaint on a regular basis, and I have to wonder how much weight it carries when one factors in the rise in the standard of living in the mid-20th century in the US, and the increased literacy and financial access of lower classes. What constituted a "bestseller" in Steinbeck's time is probably, adjusted for inflation, still a lot smaller a sample of the overall population than today's bestsellers. Did working-class folks in 1940 read Grapes of Wrath in great numbers? Did kids? Was your average janitor reading a lot? Because I know janitors today who read Harry Potter.
My overall impression of the dumbing-down of popular culture is that it's mainly a factor of the rise of the lower class. Even the poorest of people in the US today can afford books, movies and TVs, and that was not nearly so much the case prior to, say, 1970. As a result, their interests are catered to most often, because they literally are the lowest common denominator, the safest bet. So when people from an earlier cultural era complain that popular culture is becoming increasingly low-brow, what they might want to consider is that it's just the equal and opposite reaction of lower classes achieving higher socio-economic status. But we don't like to talk about class in the US, so we just complain that culture is declining.
Maybe the truth is that popular culture is becoming a more accurate reflection of the make-up of the United States. I think there's room for all levels of "high" and "low" culture, but the stuff that will make the most money, and thus have the most visible presence, will always be the lowest common denominator stuff. Maybe that will change, but somehow I doubt it. Even as Steinbeck was popular in the 1940's, so were The Three Stooges.
UPDATE: I was watching this week's installment of PBS's "Make 'em Laugh," their history of comedy in America, and Larry Gelbart mentions that the writing on Sid Caesar's show was urbane and witty primarily because, at that time, a television was a luxury appliance; it wasn't until more people started buying televisions that they had to start appealing to a broader audience. So I think I'm backed up by a solid source in saying that popular culture has a lot more to do with economics and class than we'd like to admit.
I hear this sort of complaint on a regular basis, and I have to wonder how much weight it carries when one factors in the rise in the standard of living in the mid-20th century in the US, and the increased literacy and financial access of lower classes. What constituted a "bestseller" in Steinbeck's time is probably, adjusted for inflation, still a lot smaller a sample of the overall population than today's bestsellers. Did working-class folks in 1940 read Grapes of Wrath in great numbers? Did kids? Was your average janitor reading a lot? Because I know janitors today who read Harry Potter.
My overall impression of the dumbing-down of popular culture is that it's mainly a factor of the rise of the lower class. Even the poorest of people in the US today can afford books, movies and TVs, and that was not nearly so much the case prior to, say, 1970. As a result, their interests are catered to most often, because they literally are the lowest common denominator, the safest bet. So when people from an earlier cultural era complain that popular culture is becoming increasingly low-brow, what they might want to consider is that it's just the equal and opposite reaction of lower classes achieving higher socio-economic status. But we don't like to talk about class in the US, so we just complain that culture is declining.
Maybe the truth is that popular culture is becoming a more accurate reflection of the make-up of the United States. I think there's room for all levels of "high" and "low" culture, but the stuff that will make the most money, and thus have the most visible presence, will always be the lowest common denominator stuff. Maybe that will change, but somehow I doubt it. Even as Steinbeck was popular in the 1940's, so were The Three Stooges.
UPDATE: I was watching this week's installment of PBS's "Make 'em Laugh," their history of comedy in America, and Larry Gelbart mentions that the writing on Sid Caesar's show was urbane and witty primarily because, at that time, a television was a luxury appliance; it wasn't until more people started buying televisions that they had to start appealing to a broader audience. So I think I'm backed up by a solid source in saying that popular culture has a lot more to do with economics and class than we'd like to admit.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
High Anxiety
I'll try and keep this one brief, as it's particularly Slade-focused. That said: the word for today is "liminal." It derives from the Latin "limen," meaning "a threshold." Anthropologically, it seems to get bandied about to describe moments in which an individual moves from one state of being (be it a state of consciousness, social standing, etc.) to another. Typically, it seems like the move is a forward one, although I'm not totally sure about that.
I mention this because I'm trying to reach a new point in my life and have started to ponder the extent to which I'm in control of this (or any) situation. I'm kept up at night by the thought of moments in my life where I was presented with dual paths. So far, I've been satisfied with how things have turned out and I've seen my history as, by and large, a flow of one necessary event after the other. If there have been things that I've regretted, I've been consoled by the fact that they seemed to lay the foundation for certain profoundly good things that followed.
But today I'm freaked out. There's something looming on my horizon that I want so badly. There's a door I'm desperate to step through. And, beating its way around my head is the thought that the only thing I have as I approach this moment is the contents of my heart and mind, which seem like pretty thin material.
Today I'm at the mercy of desire and doubt - two emotions that experienced alone are enough to drive me crazy, but in tandem are threatening to eat me alive.
So I'll let you know how it shakes out.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
OK Communicator Inauguration Blogcast
11:20
Just woke up. Am frantically pressing buttons on four separate remote controls to try and figure out how to get this TV off of the DVD input (due to an Arrested Development marathon last night) and onto the Cable input.
11:24
Got it on the Cable setting, but no sound. Am calling Sebastian to figure out how to work his TV.
11:25
OK, now I have sound.
11:26
CNN newscasters have uttered the name "Aretha Franklin" no fewer than 15 times since I've begun watching coverage. Thinking of trying to turn this into a drinking game.
11:32
A moment of almost erotic ecstasy passes over me as I watch George Bush walk through the rotunda. This is his last day on the job and, hopefully, the final page of one of the worst chapters ever in the entire history of governance.
11:34
One newscaster is asked to expound on "the peaceful transfer of power." As if this were the first time that the President of the United States achieved the office by election, as opposed to bloody coup. Now they're talking about slaves.
11:35
Cheney is in a wheelchair. Just exquisite. He could not look more like Mr. Potter, the villain of "It's a Wonderful Life," if he tried.
11:36
Am becoming increasingly jealous of the fact that Sprout has tickets to the Daily Show tonight.
11:39
First glimpse of Barack Obama. As always, I feel like I'm about to cry. Not only is he breathtaking, but even more remarkable, the CNN newscasters have shut up for a full 60 seconds. Truly, it's an inauguration miracle
11:43
Interesting that he decided to be announced as "Barack H. Obama." Also, I'm not 100% certain that I'm down with this announcer. It sounds as if he's going to cut out after the inauguration and start cutting audio for monster truck rally commercials.
11:47
Interesting to see Bush's reaction to Feinstein's comments about the power of the ballot. The interior monologue perhaps runs something like this: "There's a third way, my friend. You can rig it"
11:48
Rick Warren's invocation is a bit creepy. While we're on the subject, everything about Rick Warren is a bit creepy.
11:53
Alright! On to Aretha. I think I want that hat.
11:55
Please let this extend into a medley. I really want to hear "Freeway of Love (Pink Cadillac)." Blast...no such luck. Hmmm, maybe Robert Bennet will do it up.
11:59
Right on! An Itzhak Perlman, Yo-Yo Ma, and some-other-people-whom-I've-never-heard-of performance. Very classy. I wonder whether there was serious consideration launching right into the West Wing theme song. Mental note: watching a pianist play with fingerless gloves, regardless of the reason, is sexy.
12:04
Despite the fact that he has yet to be sworn in, Barack Obama is now the President. How completely awesome.
12:06
That's it. How unspeakably cool. A few hitches there, a couple of repeats on the part of Justice Roberts, but what are you going to do? How truly remarkable. What a beautiful, beautiful moment.
12:42
And...scene. Congratulations, everyone. We seem to finally be on a pretty legitimate track. Long may it last.
Friday, January 16, 2009
The Eagle Has Landed
Yesterday, as I'm sure any of you who have access to any type of news medium whatsoever are well aware, a US Air passenger jet suffered engine failure (authorities are still trying to determine whether the flock of geese had any links to a terrorist organization) and crash-landed safely in the Hudson River. Last I heard, every single person on board the plane survived.
The images that I've seen are astounding: a sinking plane surrounded by boats and, more importantly, a throng of people ankle deep in icy river water, held up presumably by the jet's floatation devices, waiting to be rescued. The CNN anchor describing the scene last night made the comment "it appears these people are walking on water, but in *reality*..." and yes, that was the stupidest thing I've heard come out of a newscaster's mouth in recent memory. Nonetheless, the whole thing did have the air of a miracle about it.
As a country, I think we very much like the stories that end with everybody surviving the disaster. Now, more so than ever. It isn't especially hard to view the plane as a metaphor for the US: powerless, locked into a seemingly fatal trajectory that's completely out of the control of all but a few of the people on board. How enticing it is, then, to see it land safely, with no collateral damage (no city blocks leveled, no cars or playgrounds or department stores crushed beneath its hull), and to see every single passenger and crew member rescued.
At first I found myself thinking "Alright, a fucking plane landed. Great. On to the actual news now, eh?" But beyond the pursuit of ratings, there's a strong argument for showing these same pictures over and over again. Right now, people need stories of things working out, of competent people being at the helm, of everyone getting out alive. I'm not saying that this in any way shape or form mirrors what's actually going on in any of the numerous crises occurring throughout the world, but I do think that it gives us an ephemeral glimpse of hope, of what it's like to see something play out in a way that doesn't make you want to hang your head in defeat. It's been so long, for me at least if not for others, that I've forgotten what it feels like.
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