I'm Not Even Hungry

New blog: one of the top two blogs out there

2007-08-26T19:13:00.001-07:00

Hello internet, it's been a while. In the sense that I've contributed to it, that is. My guest-editing stint at IvyGate ended a couple of weeks ago and I haven't blogged anything since. IMEH has been going for 2 years now, if you can believe that, with an average post rate of 1 per month (guess), yet I had a lot of energy to post for IvyGate. Very fun time. I will still post here at the usual rate, maybe even more sometimes, but I wanted to introduce the newest blog that I haven't done anything for yet (no links, profile etc. set up; absolutely no posts). It will be called "Nothing is Equal to Anything" (nothingisequal.blogspot.com). It will be Tim-free (as most good things are) and it has a theme: lists. This will include:

1. Personal top 10, top 24, top anything lists about pop culture and me. I mean pop culture in the broad sense, so it will include politics and former pop cultures.

2. Criticism of other lists. I mean some brutal shit. Watch out Rolling Stone!

3. A lot of stuff about Blur, Cormac McCarthy and Cohutta from the Real World: Sydney. You guys have got to check out this Cohutta if you haven't had the pleasure yet.

4. Penis/menstrual jokes. Mostly these.

I'll try and get a post up tomorrow morning and you can tell your friends/co-workers about it. Who doesn't love lists? I've never... no one has ever not liked lists.

Moving to a legit blog y'hear

2007-07-29T22:19:00.000-07:00

To my two or negative nine readers: I have a new home until August 11. I am co-guest-editing ivygateblog.com, a gossip blog about the Ivy League. Go ahead, call me snobby as I indifferently swirl my bowtie. But I urge you to check it out. It will be "objective" in the way all blogs are. In other words I'll dick around entirely, but I'll make sure my facts are correct. The two are not mutually exclusive.

BTW, Let's hear it for Eric Bedard. O's finally have a solid #1 for years to come... until he goes to the Yankees 3 minutes before the trade deadline in, I don't know, 2010.

Read that other blog I mentioned. Watch out for the big girl.

Listen to this man

2007-07-26T13:03:00.000-07:00

This is the paranoia!

Some random non-new albums I've had on repeat lately

2007-07-20T12:03:00.000-07:00

Just thought I'd share. These are albums I never really thought I loved, but I guess I do now. It's all about the long term.

Rolling Stones - Exile on Main Street
Belle & Sebastian - Push Barman to Open Old Wounds
Broken Social Scene - You Forgot it in People
Hollertronix - Never Scared
Nas - Illmatic
Sunny Day Real Estate - How It Feels to Be Something On
Yo La Tengo - President YLY/New Wave Hot Dogs
Beach Boys - Surf's Up
Big Star - #1 Record/Radio City
Brian Eno - Here Come the Warm Jets
Grateful Dead - American Beauty

I guess the one to single out for (extremely brief) discussion is the BSS album. It's one of those '00s indie-rock hall of famers (read: Pitchfork-wanksters) like Funeral, The Meadowlands, Chutes Too Narrow, Kill the Moonlight, Illinois, Turn on the Bright Lights, Moon & Antarctica, Et Cetera and So Forth. Usually I fully agree (Interpol, Spoon) or fully disagree (Funeral, Illinois). You Forgot it in People is the only one of these albums to switch from the latter to the former. I still don't care for the seventeen year-old girl song or whatever, and I think the Arts&Crafts collective concept as a positive force on music holds about as much water as my bladder on diuretics. I guess I just like their live show and their range. I like the jams. I don't know. Harry Potter comes out tomorrow!

I'm gonna need you to trust me on this: some thoughts on 24

2007-07-14T09:05:00.000-07:00

I've spent the majority of my free time this summer watching every episode of 24. All six seasons. I'd never seen a minute of the show before. I didn't feel like I was missing much, except a time-wasting addiction of which I already have like 9. But what else is being unemployed good for other than DVD binges, and what's better for binges than hollowness and manipulative plot twists, and what's better for indifference than Kiefer Sutherland as an anti-hero?

24 was everything I expected. Some season by season thoughts:

Season 1: I watched this after the other ones because they were missing a disk at blockbuster so I went straight to season 2. I bought this on iTunes at the end. I like how the cell phones look very 2001 in this. I also think 9/11 was really good for this show because it's all about the counter-terrorist unit, a concept they must have decided on before 9/11. It makes watching Jack Bauer torture terrorists really fun. This was before Abu Ghraib and shit so we didnt have to question torture in ticking-bomb scenarios as the ultimate moral quandary, which is still isn't.

Awesome person of the season: Jack Bauer (his only one!)
Hottie of the season: Mandy

Season 2: Kind of an isolated season as far as the rest of the series goes, just like Harry Potter 2. Caleb Nichol is the vice president and he's a d-bag, just like he was in the OC and Lost ("This sip is worth more than your life"). Still very addicting, despite the incredible lack of depth.

APOTS: David Palmer
HOTS: Kim Bauer

Season 3: One of the two best seasons. Jack's heroin addiction adds a whole new layer to his ethos, finally an anti-hero. Tony's situation with Michelle was also really intense, I mean you're cursing at the screen but who can really blame him. Chapelle admitting he doesn't have any friends outside of work before he is executed makes him an incredible guy when he's a dick at all other times. And the end of the season with Jack crying at the wheel is perfect.

APOTS: Gael
HOTS: Michelle Dessler

Season 4: Most notable for Marwan, the most able villain the show has seen. Also Edgar Stiles is a nice, albeit brief, addition to the show as is Curtis Manning, James Heller and, of course, Bill fucking Buchanan. Sets the stage well for season 5 also with Jack's disappearance.

APOTS: Tony Almeida
HOTS: yet again, Mandy

Season 5: The crown jewel by all popular standards; my favorite along with season 3. The escalation with Logan was fantastic, and Edgar's death was a legitimately moving part. Bill Buchanan is a great guy, also, as are Curtis and Chloe.

APOTS: Bill Buchanan
HOTS: Collette

Season 6: Everyone hates this season with such a burning passion but I didn't think it was all that bad. Some of the plot devices were recycled but who gives a shit, it entertained.

APOTS: Karen Hayes/Tom Lennox
HOTS: Nadia

Other things:
Jack's best match: Marwan
Most evil villain: Graeme/Philip Bauer
Biggest pussy: President Logan
Understated hero: Aaron Pierce
Best side characters: Tony Almeida, David Palmer
Scariest person: Vladimir Bierko, Sherry Palmer, Noah Daniels

Are Americans really like Marissa on the O.C.?

2007-06-21T11:09:00.000-07:00

My vacation to Istanbul and Greece isn't quite over, so things could still happen, but the best part so far was seeing a kid throw his sandal repeatedly at cats. This was on the third and largest of the Princess Islands, an archipelago of sorts outside Istanbul (but not its air pollution). The nearest analogue for the US is, I don't know, Jones Beach but with more horses. A million horses. The only transportation is horse-drawn carriages and bikes and walking. Stephen Morse, who I regret to say ditched me at my luxury hotel in Crete for his flight back not 45 minutes ago, and I opted for bikes. It was an all-day rental and we planned to use that. After 10 minutes we stopped for water and were walking up hills in the hot sun dragging the vehicles with us. My shirt was entirely sweated through (although that's not rare--I sweat like a minx when it's more than 55 out). We biked around the entire island and then some, like 25 km, sunburnt as shit, I lost my camera along the way down a ravine or something, maybe a horse or a kid ate it who knows. My ass was brown because I sat in the dirt; Morse assumed I had shat myself and maybe I did. After this exertion we found a cafeteria with cheap delicious dishes, the finest bottled water in all of Asia Minor, I had a coke also. As we're reviving our bodies for a third or fourth wind, with this turbulent mixture of fortune and exercise we called a morning behind us, I see the kid of like five chucking his sandals at two stray cats. He hits them squarely on the head a couple of times and the cats flinch and hiss but relocate only two feet into the shade and the kid wails again and again and everyone's watching. So I'm watching a kid hitting two stray cats (which are everywhere) who barely give a shit and the mother is indifferent and sitting in a dirty sidewalk and we're eating fish and potatoes with sauce on a smoky island in the Bosphorus, the separator of two continents, and I've exercised extensively. This is when I discovered that I was traveling and that traveling could be a fun thing and what a notion.

I'll write more about cats and travel soon. I planned on writing more in this post but am stopping. I'm at a luxury hotel in Heraklion, Crete, a very dirty city, and I'm drinking gin like a sultan. More tk.

I once bought a Penny jersey

2007-05-26T12:34:00.001-07:00

Still...

2007-05-24T12:28:00.000-07:00

What is this shit, though?

Lost and found, or some other common pun; Kate is hot

2007-05-24T12:05:00.000-07:00

Oh good glory!

There was a time, like season 1 through maybe 2/3 of season 2, where I thought Lost was legitimately one of the two or three BEST shows on TV. Not just most enjoyable, which it was, but actually quality fiction. Then came a slew of egregious errors: Locke, once the show's best character, becoming a self-parody ("I need to listen to the island," e.g.); the three theatres of action; the useless Nikki/Paolo, Hurley and Charley episodes; the cheap resorting to violence and binary good/evil subplots instead of psychological suspense. I never wanted to stop watching the show forever, as about 10 million other people did according to the ratings, but it did become something of a guilty pleasure, and it was deserved.

Last night's season finale was not only the show's most important episode, in terms of resurrection, but also its best overall episode. The flash-forward, while not a complete mindfuck, was executed subtly enough to keep me unknowing and impressed until the very end. Ben really led the charge here. The guy's such a dick, everyone hates this guy, but everyone also knows that somehow at the root of things he's absolutely right. They are not supposed to leave the island, even though they are. Things have gone away from cheap twists and thrills back to the psychological mystery that doesn't condescend to its viewers, and things are moving.

Lost is back on top. Woot. Too bad we have to wait until 2008 for more. Whatch'all think?

He speaks to you, American

2007-05-16T09:18:00.000-07:00

So the new, anticipated Don DeLillo came out yesterday and I bought a copy today. In case you haven't heard, it's called The Falling Man and is about 9/11. So not quite a beach read, unless you're me. Although I'm not at the beach.

Anyway I've only read a few pages and, like, huzzah, I forgot how well the man writes. I haven't read any DeLillo in a couple of years but I'm already remembering the dazzling style that basically made me jerk off to Underworld for like two weeks. Check out some of these gems already:

"He was walking north through rubble and mud and there were people running past holding towels to their faces or jackets over their heads. They had handkerchiefs pressed to their mouths. They had shoes in their hands, a woman with a shoe in each hand, running past him."

"There was something else then, outside all this, not belonging to this, aloft."

"He tried to tell himself he was alive but the idea was too obscure to take hold."

So those are some, and it's just exaspirating. I'll be in tears soon, because somehow I'll be reminded of how I have to leave college soon (and basically already have), and that is in some way unique to post-9/11 America. I'm a flirt. Ch-ch-check it.

Kenn Kweder - this is the end

2007-05-16T06:28:00.001-07:00

"Father?"
"Son?"
"I want to kill you!"

Self-promotion for I guess the last time

2007-05-11T12:51:00.000-07:00

My graduation op-ed for the DP

My ego of the week from the last Street

Fuck it, my entire archives

THE destroyer post

2007-05-09T12:53:00.000-07:00

I make a lot of lists, as you know, and most of them are on facebook. I like each of them to include something about Destroyer, the band that is essentially Daniel Bejar with a rotating cast of musicians. I have spent more time listening to his seven albums this year than probably all other music combined. On my top 25 most played in itunes, Destroyer has 22.

I can't briefly explain what Bejar's appeal is, and that's the best part. If I could sum up his mien in a couple of sentences, he'd be a flash in the pan. He's a mix of lo-fi, power pop and classic rock, which doesn't really say anything. His voice is higher than pretty much everyone except Daniel Johnston. What else is there? He's just a great, great songwriter, and that's something EVERYONE in the music biz should think about. Ignore the rapidly evolving faux-trends that have defined the decade and just write a good song. It may be hard to be original these days, but ultimately originality has nothing to do with it.

Anyways, 20 favorite Destroyer songs at the present (BTW, there are at least like 60 great Destroyer songs)

20. Crystal Country (from This Night)
19. City of Daughters (from Thief)
18. Priest's Knees (from Rubies)
17. Notorious Lightning (from Your Blues)
16. Leave Little Fiddler (from We'll Build Them a Golden Bridge)
15. Self-Portrait With Thing (from This Night)
14. Dark Purposes (from City of Daughters)
13. Students Carve Hearts out of Coal (from This Night)
12. Queen of Languages (from Thief)
11. Beggars Might Ridge (from Streethawk: A Seduction)
10. You Were so Cruel (from City of Daughters)
9. Death on the Festival Circuit (from Thief)
8. Goddess of Draught (from This Night)
7. In Dreams (from Thief)
6. Rubies (from Rubies)
5. The Very Modern Dance (from Streethawk)
4. English Music (from Streethawk)
3. Rereading the Marble Faun (from City of Daughters)
2. The Sublimation Hour (from Streethawk)
1. Thief (from Thief)

MJ MJ fadeaway perfect: Let's talk about some tunage

2007-05-09T11:14:00.000-07:00

Turns out that when I wrote a post here about that guy I picked up some new readers. Natch.

Anyway, tunes.

a) Blog stuff: Byron is the best blogger on the internet--like all this pretentious p-fork spinoff shit (that I write like sometimes also) is toast with him. Nullus. I also like what Nick Riff has been saying recently, especially in the get him eat him post about cutesy indie (although i like peter bjorn and john, what can I say, they make good pop songs). Check out the Chris Ott guest post too--I love that guy. Lastly, straight bangin' is one of my new favorites. They, along with passion of the weiss, have been organizing the 25 favorite hip hop albums poll among HH bloggers which i suggest you check out. Also, how funny is this Brady Quinn photo? what a doucccche. Lastly, Matt Perpetua, the most professional music blogger out there, recently started a project called Pop Songs 07 where he plans to write a review of every REM song ever recorded. REM really brings back a lot of nostalgia for a lot of people no? There's a good article on p-fork from like '04 by Deusner about growing up with REM. I mean i missed out on that a little bit, but I have been revisiting their albums a lot recently and here's my current top five R.E.M. songs. What are yours?

1. Star Me Kitten
2. Electrolite
3. Shaking Through
4. New Test Leper
5. Laughing

b) Music of 07. There are 6 albums that can match last year's top 10 quality already: Panda Bear's Person Pitch, Wilco's Sky Blue Sky, Of Montreal's Hissing Fauna, are You the Destroyer?, Deerhunter's Cryptograms and the National's Boxer. Wilco/National seem a bit bland at first, and I'm sure the former will get TONS of shit upon next week's release, but each album has a whoooole lot going on and i hope you agree. Also, the best single of '07 so far is easily M.I.A.'s "Bird Flu" and I also encourage you to find the million things Lil Wayne has been working on. All over the 'nets. Bjork is OK, "Declare Independence" is a fucking stomp-and-a-half.

c) Three words never/rarely to be used in music crit: boring, experimental. If you find yourself describing albums with boring, you're not a fan of anything in the world, just a collector. Engage shit, please, please, please, because no one's doing it anymore. As far as experimental, just because a rock band throws in a horn doesn't mean it's an "experiment." That's called adding to one's repertoire. An experiment is changing a variable and seeing how things work out. A good example of an experimental album is Bjork's Medulla-- she tries to create a usual album while eliminating instrumentation (ie LOTS of beatboxing and throat-singing).

d) the arcade fire is the worst fucking band on the planet, still, and i just hate so much about them.

Michael Nutter for mayor, even though he's a wonnnnnk.

Beautiful

2007-04-28T11:25:00.000-07:00

As of yesterday you can call this the Fillmore Philadelphia. It's definitely time to leave this city.

Things tk [sic] (stet)

2007-04-20T08:09:00.000-07:00

OK so hopefully Timbob and I got like 5 more readers after that whole d-bag Berstein affair, so here's some things I plan on writing in the next few days (give or take a decade):

1. An extensive essay on mario kart 64; purportedly humorous
2. thoughts about wilco and critics who overuse the word "boring" and misuse "experimental"
3. ok, and although any joke about virginia tech would clearly be horrendous and not funny, it is funny how there is a poster circulating saying "today, we are all hokies."
4. fetish pix

Someone take away their headline-writing powers

2007-04-19T06:51:00.000-07:00

"Yesterday's Abortion Ruling Was Only a Baby Step" - the (pro-life) Wall Street Journal

Why Gnarls Barkley's song "Crazy" promotes hate speech

2007-04-12T11:42:00.000-07:00

First off, this in no way represents the opinion of 34th Street magazine. I am still listed on the masthead as "editor emeritus," but that's just to humor me in my old age.

I don't know who you are, Dan Berstein, but you don't sound like a great guy to talk to at a cocktail party. Or really anywhere. You've personally offended me as well as quite a few other chums on campus. I'm sorry for your condition, and I understand your problems (this coming from a guy who's spent more time this semester tweaking his antidepressant dosage than he has going to class). But I think you're missing the point, I think you have personal self-publicity motives, I think you refuse to deal with the consequences of your own actions, and I think, mostly, that we should all be ignoring you.

1) You've made yourself a public figure by hosting awareness events, so be prepared to deal with public assaults.

2) I lurrrve how you compare the shoutout to racial and homophobic epithets, saying ones against mental illnesses are the same thing. Quite the wordsmith you are, sir! Yet, hmm... do people go around burning bipolar people on crosses? The only thing similar is that it's an physiological aspect one cannot change. BUT YOU go on to say how mental illnesses are a disability (agreed) and's the root of hate speech (whoa now!). So, Mr. Berstein, are you saying being black or gay is a disability?

3) You are very careful to publicize your website, stopthestigma.org or whatever, on the facebook group, which says how you will be speaking at Delaware on the 16th about bipolar disorder. I think it's wonderful that you're taking your experiences to help out others who might be in the same condition. But I also think you're blowing this shoutout thing so large for the sake of publicity so that you might be able to rack up a little lecture tour after college.* And given the shit you've caused the DP (for something that was not wrong--I personally would've run that shoutout 80 times over without an apology) after countless meetings and apologies and reassurances and tolerations and leaving 900 messages and e-mails for people who have much better things to do, this is the root of where I'm personally offended.

4) The shoutout writer said that your disorder cannot make up for "the things you did." I won't bother to investigate further, but you must've done some pretty fucked up shit to someone, and you can't hide behind any cause or disease for that. Learn to deal with the consequences of your actions. In my bouts with depression I've done a few things I very much regret, but I've never considered hiding behind that depression as an excuse. That makes this shoutout pretty justifiable and not just an unmerited attack.

5) Evan's right, Jazzy has been unbelievably helpful to you considering the way you've treated her.

IMO, I think this is the consequence of all this mental health coalition/awareness bullshit. People know if they're depressed, they don't need someone like you filling in the blanks for them. All this awareness shit just makes people hide behind their mental illnesses and not face the things they've done to other people. If you're depressed, go get a counselor and some meds and leave everyone else the fuck out of it.

-Jim

*I realize this is published on my personal blog, but it's just a matter of space. I actually don't want anyone to read the rest of the blog, it's soooo bad.

An article I wrote for Street that (thank god) was never published

2007-04-11T08:25:00.000-07:00

I wrote this article for 34th Street back in like February; when my time came I decided to scrap it and wrote another shitty self-indulgent tripefest. So here it is... the lost WOTS:

I’ve had a lot of free time lately during which I like to think. Broadly. People tell me to “find a hobby” but, er, umm, pass. I’m not 11 years old; building forts and rubbing twigs together ain’t my particular joie de vivre. Waxing philosophic about the Statements Defining Our Lives (SDOLs), that’s where I’m in my element. So consider this elephant in the room: “With WebMD, I can diagnose myself.”

In the scope of historical SDOLs, it seems middling. Few would rank it with such golden oldies as “I have discovered a circle, and this will help with the harvest,” or “If I put this object over my head when it rains, I do not get wet.”

Not until recently, however, have we presumed with a few keystrokes to locate our precise physical maladies. For those of us prescribed Schedule II’s for anxiety, it’s Y2K all over again — and for real this time.

A few weeks ago, it looked to me like one of the veins on my arm was a tidbit swollen. Left arm (the one near the heart!) felt kind-of-ish numb, heavy, what have you. Went to WebMD, typed up the mild symptoms.

According to WebMD, my symptoms were indicative of the following: Diabetes, heart failure/arrythmia/attack, hypertension, Lou Gehrig’s disease and the real moneymaker, “deep vein thrombosis (DVT).” It stopped short of “awful death cancer,” so phew.

Yet the thought of having something called deep vein thrombosis (DVT) kept me awake at night, so I saw a nurse practitioner at Student Health. I told her about the vaguely numb arm, my history of psychoses, the dangers of image-as-information in a smoky post-9/11 dystopia, etc. Nurse did her whatevers on me and thought for a tic. “You’re in good health.” She said. “You’re fine.”

Get outta town, I thought. “Get outta town,” I said.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. Just senior year stuff.”

“No yeah but like, I don’t have deep vein thrombosis (DVT)? I read about a thing called deep vein thrombosis (DVT) on WebMD.”

“No.”

TMI! Recover with humor.

“Just messing with you, Doc. Nurse. I know I’m fine. Just wanted to see if I could wean out some prescriptions. I love pills, you know how it goes. Information. It’s like when they split the atom, started pasteurizing milk. The printing press, Isaac Newton, Gravity’s Rainbow. I just read an evocative article about 9/11 on some blog. Have you ever considered the Iraq war? I mean really considered it? Paul Wolfowitz? The internet? Project for the New American Century? The fiction writers, young and old and in the basement, rendered obsolete. These things, and others.”

After recovering consciousness, the nurse, cold towel against her forehead, suggested I stop visiting WebMD. I’m cool with that; too many other SDOLs need my attention. Christ, the circle. The circle: no edges or infinite edges? Fascinating. Think about the circle for five minutes, remember to breathe. Pure ecstasy.

top 10 favorite indie rock albums evarrr

2007-04-03T06:51:00.000-07:00

As cliche as it is, indie rock has defined my college years more than any other genre, so I decided to come up with this list at the end of it. The roster went through a grueling 3-minute selection process. For the sake of consistency, I've omitted major-label bands with indie sensibilities (wilco, sonic youth, radiohead) and independent groups that aren't really rock in the traditional sense (the streets and... well just the streets). Somewhere along this line of logic, I decided the Flaming Lips should be counted. I hope you own all of these albums! It's not really the most creative list (at least #5 - 1 is pretty by-the-numbers)

10) Clinic - Internal Wrangler (2000)

I'm realizing just now that I don't feel like writing out little blurbs. Clinic's really great though.

9) The Dismemberment Plan - Change (2001)

A band overflowing with genius. Travis Morrison, I'm there for you babe.

8) Destroyer - Streethawk: A Seduction (2001)

The most pitch-perfect of his all-star trio (Thief; City of Daughters)

7) Ted Leo & Pharmacists - Tyranny of Distance (2001)

Huzzah! La dee da!

6) Silver Jews - American Water (1998)
Still better with each listen after four years of constant replay. Best roadtrip album.

5) Flaming Lips - Soft Bulletin (1999)
See "Waiting for a Superman," get answers to life.

4) Guided By Voices - Bee Thousand (1994) /Alien Lanes (1995)

I lumped them two albums into one spot to save space on the list. I think GBV circa '93-96 understood rock music better than the Rolling Stones '67-74.

3) Yo La Tengo - I Can Hear the Heart Beating As One (1997)

Does indie rock have a certain sound? I think it's this.

2) Pavement - Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain (1994)

I think this is the sound, actually. "Out on my skateboard, the night is just hummin.'"

1) Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane over the Sea (1998)

I'm not qualified to write about this album.

Honorable mention (these albums, too, have very much defined my life):
Built to Spill - Perfect From Now On
Belle & Sebastian - If You're Feeling Sinister
Interpol - Turn on the Bright Lights
Palace Music - Viva Last Blues
Bonnie Prince Billy - I See a Darkness
Deerhoof - The Runners Four
Spoon - Kill the Moonlight
Destroyer - Thief/City of Daughters

Uninformed Political Punditry

2007-03-22T07:06:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, political strategists from the Clinton, Obama, and Edwards campaigns met for a forum at the Kennedy School of Government held a forum. There, Clinton's long-time pollster/smooth operator Mark Penn attacked Obama for allegedly equivocating on the war in Iraq while, shockingly enough, defending his candidate. He also made the following observation: "Do you think Hillary Clinton is the kind of person who, if president, would have started the Iraq war? No."

I'm still trying to parse that sentence, but I can't figure out how that's a good thing for Clinton. Does it mean that she allowed herself to be manipulated into a war that she didn't really support? If you support a war, which tends to result in, you know, death, shouldn't you be really certain about it?

Dwight's best

2007-03-19T16:33:00.000-07:00

"My father’s name was Dwight Schrute. My grandfather’s name was Dwight Schrute. His father’s name? Dwide Schrude. Amish... I love my father, very much. Every morning, he’d wake up at dawn and make us biscuits with gravy. When I was little, my dad and I played a lot of games together. My dad cheated a lot, but I never busted him on it. I would have, except I didn’t know about it. He didn’t tell me ’til years later, and I was shocked when I found out."

I think that's maybe the best Office quote, and not even because it's particularly funny. It's just some gorgeous writing, gives a pretty lucid glimpse of Dwight, why he's so concerned about a false urine test. Hmm.

Should it be so easy?

2007-03-16T05:55:00.000-07:00

Yeah, it's probably a big deal.

Of course he's labeled the final product bad already, but if folks are using the technologies and something pretty damn good comes from it, how are we to judge that? Should a dope remix take all the math that it takes? I don't know. I still probably wouldn't be able to understand the "entry-level" technology, much like I don't have an entry-level job yet.

Why the Natural History Museum Makes Me Want to Believe in God

2007-03-11T11:37:00.000-07:00

There comes a time in the life of every humanities major when he realizes that his understanding of science peaked in either 9th or 10th grade. Despite having taken three “science”—scare quotes intended to mock, not terrify—classes at Columbia, I haven’t really understood what my science teachers have tried to teach me since freshman year biology.

Which, I think, is why a trip to the Natural History Museum surprised me so much. In theory, I have learned about everything in the museum before. In practice, it was all shoved out by Simpson’s trivia and differing interpretations of gender’s role in the coming of the Civil War a long time ago. Somehow, the fact that terrifying monsters exist less than a kilometer, to use fancy science talk, under the ocean still has the power to astonish me. I should know better, but I don’t.

More than anything else, my childlike stupidity mirrors that of a scientifically literate person in the pre-Darwinian era. This is a time when William Paley’s watchmaker argument was considered irrefutable evidence for the existence of God. For those of you who have forgotten long-discredited arguments from obscure 19th century theologians—for shame!—here’s a summary. If you walk down a beach and you see a fully functioning watch, you would assume that the watch didn’t get there by accident. Substitute “exist in” for walk, “universe” for beach, “all of nature” for watch, and “therefore God exists” for the unstated conclusion of the argument, and you get the idea Paley was trying to make.

Evolution caused such a foofara because it demonstrated that the watch did, in fact, land on the shore by accident. With a single, highly evolved hand, Darwin destroyed one of the most powerful argument for God’s existence from legitimate debate, until intelligent designers started making exactly the same argument some 140 years after the publication of On the Origin of Species. Today, evolution remains so controversial that inside the “Hall of Human Origins” at the Natural History Museum a brief video featuring two prominent Christian scientists explaining that you can still believe in God if you want to runs on a constant, annoying loop. But, in a world where giant squids, deer with super-huge antlers, and freaky-huge dinosaurs exist because of purely natural processes, why would you?

Oh yeah, fear of death, because your parents told you to, a desire to find a transcendent morality, and to understand your place in the world. Come on, though, everyone knows a giant squid would kick their collective ass.

This internet fad... five years, tops

2007-03-06T14:42:00.000-08:00

I'm going to start properly punctuating with this post, although I may fuck up. Just fyi.

So remember with Y2K how funny the initial conceit was? Like because of this small programming glitch all computers would think we were going back to 1900, negating existence. A little nitpick that would throw a wrench in the whole progress machine. Better every time I think of it. And I never think about it, which is interesting also.

I've pretentiously rambled on this blog about businesses considering the internet in new ways, finally--no longer as a supplement to the flagship product but as the flagship product (making all other comm mediums niche entry points). Music's all digital (did you see that CD sales were down 21% in '06?), newspapers are trying to making the switch. Even TV networks like NBC want to develop web-only shows, trying to capitalize on the whole YouTube video frenzy. People compare this to the switches to pamphlets to broadsheets to radio to TV, but it's a different beast. Particular genres--news, comedy, drama--aren't seeking to capitalize on the new medium, but old media are trying to switch to new media. NBC is a television station attempting to become a web station. The evening newspapers, when they realized Cronkite was killing them, didn't try to become a TV station--there's no Evening Bulletin channel in Philly, for example. It's all being channeled to the 'nets. That has some potentially awful class repercussions (only 100 million Americans (1/3) are online, so they'll get hyper-smart while everyone else lives in the dark), but that's another story. I really don't mean to talk about this at all.

As every possible communication medium is becoming a web-based service, I think there's a Y2K bug lurking in the background. It's going to sound stupid, trivial, whatever, but here goes: Staring at a computer for a while makes your eyes hurt.

Consider. I'm about 20 inches from the screen right now. It is bright and electric, similar to a plasma TV. But I don't sit 20 inches from that. I'm at least 7 feet from it. And even too much TV reddens my eyes after an hour or so (which causes problems). If I have to watch my Wednesday shows online, that's gonna burn. If I have to read an e-novel, I'll get glaucoma. E-novels are retarded.

So there's probably a simply answer, like new screens that don't flash a million little bulbs into your eyes at all times. All I'm saying is it's a distraction and it hurts. I've been writing here for like 15 minutes and I'm already feeling dizzy. I'm going to go and read a book, before it disintegrates.

it's like 1999 all over again

2007-02-27T17:06:00.000-08:00

so you might ask what my favorite movies of the last 10 years are, and i'd probably respond rushmore, magnolia and the squid and the whale. I'm probably forgetting some; you're probably either not caring or saying "royal tenenbaums was better." coincidentally, this is where i stop italicizing.

so yeah wes anderson has made a couple of good followups, p.t. anderson made punch-drunk love which was kind of brilliant, noah baumbach hasn't had a chance to do anything yet. but the great thing about 2007 is that the faves are coming around for another turn, whether it be books (lethem, delillo), music (wilco, radiohead) or film (those three). wes anderson's newbie concerns a trip across india, noah baumbach's is about something, and p.t. anderson's is a period piece in the old west (wtf?).

so that's all. of the seven cross-media new releases, I say three will live up to expectations: baumbach... well maybe just one will live up to expectations. but i shall keep an open mind.

l'oscarrrr

2007-02-25T18:05:00.000-08:00

isn't that poster just a stitch-and-a-half? oh, indiana... named after the dog!

ummm the oscars have been going for 36 minutes and i've not been paying attention, but they're probably going through the dregs, e.g. "best sound direction" or "best small-film animation." so i can touch on the big 4.

best picture:
babel
the departed
letters from iwo jima
little miss sunshine
the queen

here's a toughy, and that's pretty rare. still, there's a heirarchy. letters from iwo jima may have been the best received critically, but it was a late entrant into the race and didn't pick up much popular steam (still seems like eastwood's b-side to flags of our fathers). little miss sunshine, surely a good flick, is the pityfuck nod they sometimes give to the "breakout" indie hit of the year... ain't going much further than that. babel won the globe, but no one really seems to give a shit about it--one of those movies that puts on the veneer of oscar-quality before you watch a second of it, but it's got too many flaws, tries too hard, leaves you with a vague respect. so the two heavyweights here seem to be the departed and the queen. the queen might be the better, more introspective film (and my favorite of the year), but it's too small for this, and it's leader is helen mirren. contrast helen mirren with nicholson, damon, dicaprio, wahlberg, sheen, baldwin, and that already tells the story. there's also the scorsese sympathy/respect at play, the shit-hot, entertaining dialogue and great reviews to boot. people call it scorsese's best since goodfellas, but that's kind of wish fulfillment. it's a convoluted, foregettable and superficial movie at its worst; the most enjoying movie of the year for all types at best. and that's good enough to win.
should win: the queen
will win: the departed

best actor
dicaprio (blood diamond)
gosling (half nelson)
o'toole (venus)
smith (pursuit of happyness)
whitaker (last king of scotland)

yeah, whitaker, no question, no discussion. i haven't seen that movie yet, but people say it's the biggest shoe-in ever, so there ya go. possible surprise? o'toole never won in 9 nominations or something, so the oscars could really fuck over their credibility and give it to him. liberal guilt should stop them from taking a black man's oscar and giving it to the venerable old whitey.
should win: whitaker
will win: whitaker

best actress:
cruz (volver)
dench (notes on a scandal)
mirren (queen)
streep (devil wears prada)
winslet (little children)

all mirren, and damn doesn't she deserve it. i have to say, this category otherwise seems a bit phoned in. streep, dench, winslet... don't they get nominated every year? and who gives a deuce about penelope cruz? meryl, i love you though.
should win: mirren
will win: mirren

best directing
inarritu (babel)
scorsese (departed)
eastwood (letters from iwo jima)
frears (queen)
greengrass (united 93)

i'll make the mistake so many others have made in the past and predict scorsese. my reasons: a) his direction is pretty great, stylish, fast... shortcomings are mostly a script structure matter b) can get away with over-the-topness in a way, say, inarritu can't c) queen was a perfect script, direction seemed more like a matter of not screwing it up d) no one wants to touch the hot rail that is a 9/11 movie and e) THEY WILL NOT LET SCORSESE LOSE TO CLINT EASTWOOD FOR THE 80TH TIME. just give him the damn oscar and kill that subplot. i didn't see letters, but i'd rank scorsese #2 behind greengrass. united 93 is the textbook case of great direction driving a great movie. that film was completely immersed, completely present-tense, didn't make large overtures to the hugeness of 9/11. moving, not manipulative. the best tribute to america of the decade, you can feel it watching that movie. that's usually something that sounds corny, but when it works, it's a great, great feeling.
should win: greengrass
will win: scorsese

white people are mean

2007-02-25T13:57:00.000-08:00

funniest shit ever.

best part:

[Some of Thurmond's relatives said the connection also came as a surprise to them. A niece, Ellen Senter, said she would speak with Sharpton if he were interested.

"I doubt you can find many native South Carolinians today whose family, if you traced them back far enough, didn't own slaves," said Senter, 61, of Columbia, South Carolina.

She added: "And it is wonderful that (Sharpton) was able to become what he is in spite of what his forefather was."]

while that niece's comments bleed naive, what a stupid news item. press conference? what else is there to say? this might be a notch up from the britneynews industry (wait, probably not), but it's still not news-entertainment. CNN probably paid genealogists to find an old white racist whose ancestors owned a black activist's ancestors. check out this blurb in the "story highlights" box at the top:

"• Thurmond father bi-racial child; he died at 100 in 2003"

strom thurmond clearly was a shitbag, no doubt, but that info is completely extraneous to the story. how can it be a "highlight" if, in fact, it's not mentioned in the actual article?

it's like a cheesy movie, manufactured to appeal to your basic instincts and produce specific emotions (guilt). mainstream, objective news is a thing of the past. too much info, too quick of a race to expand the margins.

March 13, 2007

2007-02-21T06:16:00.000-08:00

... it comes. that's one day after my birthday, which sucks, because it could have been a birthday present.

please read the fortress of solitude immediately if you haven't.

sooo gay

2007-02-15T14:10:00.000-08:00

tim hardaway - not the hardaway who shaq made look good but the one who was pretty good on his own - had this to say about john amaechi (sp?), the first NBA player to come out of the closet (and get a sick book deal for it):

"Well, you know, I hate gay people. I let it be known I don’t like gay people. I don’t like to be around gay people. I’m homophobic. It shouldn’t be in the world, in the United States, I don’t like it."

tim hardaway is totally gay. "hard" is in his name after all. let's veer away from the cultural debate and call tim hardaway gay, it's much more fun.

that band. you know, the one with the--

2007-02-15T08:12:00.000-08:00

the arcade fire, that's what i'm trying to say. only a few weeks until their new album (neon bible) comes out but it might as well be two weeks ago, when the internet started doing its thing. i've only given it one listen, working on no.2 right now, no.3 may never happen. i'll just type away until it's over.

i hate funeral more and more each time i think about it (or listen to it, same difference). this is the best iteration of why, and grating rigamarole like this worsens it. it's not that i'm only into soulless music, although clipse and deerhoof are two of my recent faves for that very reason, but can funeral be any more patronizing, or manipulative? it tells you how to feel -- sad, angsty, indie - before you even press play and then confirms that for 40-odd minutes. and the whole thing about a couple of grandparents dying: how did we fall for this? a) wow, what a rare experience, your grandparents died and b) it happened after they recorded the album and then was used to pepper up the press release. around funeral's release in '04, when i forced myself to like the album because of the 9.7, i interviewed win butler (aka chief emoter) for Street and wrote up this shitty show preview. he admitted all those deaths came during post-production and without hesitation--not like gloating, just nonchalance. so even if it was just a PR thing, i'm still not going to pay taxes on that.

my article, as gushy-slushy as it was, derived from the first violent offender, the aforementioned 9.7. like most things relating to the arcade fire, this review used to be one of my favorites and I can't believe I ever felt that way. after beginning with the standalone opener "How did we get here?" the writer deftly aggregates everything we hate about pitchfork:

" Ours is a generation overwhelmed by frustration, unrest, dread, and tragedy. Fear is wholly pervasive in American society, but we manage nonetheless to build our defenses in subtle ways-- we scoff at arbitrary, color-coded "threat" levels; we receive our information from comedians and laugh at politicians. Upon the turn of the 21st century, we have come to know our isolation well. Our self-imposed solitude renders us politically and spiritually inert, but rather than take steps to heal our emotional and existential wounds, we have chosen to revel in them. We consume the affected martyrdom of our purported idols and spit it back in mocking defiance. We forget that "emo" was once derived from emotion, and that in our buying and selling of personal pain, or the cynical approximation of it, we feel nothing."-Chris Moore

well thanks, chris, for making zach braff, relatively speaking, a likeable guy. you're so right! "We" did forget that emo "was once derived from emotion," because that is in any way possible! my "existential wounds" sear, my "purported idols" scourge the earth, and I anxiously "spit it back in mocking defiance." god, 9-11 and stephen malkmus have made me such a dick. only the arcade fire, a band from montreal that weeps about tunnels connecting our houses - some fine 7th grade symbolism there - can resurrect my fake soul.

and as much as people will hate to admit it, if p'fork had given that su'bitch like a 6.3 (let's imagine the wording... "a paradoxically palpable excess of impossibly secular '-isms' and 'non-isms'"), it still would've developed a little following but in a bad, death-cab kind of way. people would sneer at its "hackneyed indie tropes," when really that's what "we" want all along. I take it the fake wish fulfillment will resurrect the fake soul?

anyways, all i'm trying to say is that funeral's a whiny bitchfest. the '90s holdovers knighted it as the latest indie rock messiah with words eerily reminiscent of a baby boomer waxing Springsteen. there's certianly great indie rock still being made (destroyer, the national, yo la tengo, animal collective, TVOTR, deerhoof, sonic youth) although it's often lyric-driven and averse to broad asthetic characterizations (e.g. dance-punk, byrne-ites, angular post-punk... all that already dead shit). and that's the problem- indiers LOVE naming the latest movement. it gives them a reason to ignore hip-hop, electronica, dance and other genres whose time is right now, insofar as we're seeking broad aesthetics.

anyways, neon bible just finished so i'm going to stop typing. yeah... i don't like it as of yet, although to their credit it lets me exercise independent thought, unlike funeral. if you love the arcade fire, that's fine by me, i really don't think any less of your musical taste. something this far down tear creek is going to resonate with some people and not others. but can we stop using the objectivity of "we" when it comes to the individual response to a certain aesthetic? maybe i feel differently than you, and maybe that's why you're a terrorist.

between barack and a hard place

2007-02-11T22:20:00.000-08:00

Byron Crawford is one of the more enjoyable bloggers out there. he's quite articulate. mostly he does hip hop reviews track-by-track but dabbles in other genres. i recommend the recent shins album review, if you haven't yet exploded from other shins album reviews yet. he's a very mean critic.

OK, it really is everywhere

2007-02-11T15:48:00.000-08:00

two things have occurred to me in the past few minutes:
1) every thought or feeling i have makes me think about the way it's related to the internet
2) i don't know if the internet causes anxiety, but if you have a lot of anxiety, the internet picks up on that and makes it much, much worse.

what I mean by (2) is that if you're an anxious person you go online to figure out why you're anxious and that makes you more anxious and then you go online to figure out how to manage an anxiety crisis and etc. etc. etc. mozilla firefox has turned what was once a mild case of self-consciousness into generalized anxiety disorder with a side of hypochondria and various other "common" pyschoses.

so if this experience has taught me anything, it's that if you're feeling an unusual feeling, the google sidebar on firefox will in some ways destroy you. it will lead you to websites like WebMD, and you will not be comfortable for a while.

here's my situation. I had some swollen veins in my arms/hands (at least i thought) and being a generally anxious person I googled it quickly and went to the WebMD site. half an hour later i was sure i had some combo of diabetes, heart arrythmia, deep vein thrombosis ("DVT"), varicose veins, fever, stomach ulcers, lou gehrig's disease and hypertension. because I had a few swollen veins.

SUCH anxiety that I ended up going to the doctor who told me my vital signs were all normal, in fact good, and that the cold weather was most likely playing tricks on me, could've also been very mild dehydration; point is i'm fine. i'm a healthy person.

if you ever think something small is a symptom of something big, the internet will find you the false confirmation you half-seek, so avoid it altogether. because there are irrational people out there going through the same thing as you, and the internet is the only thing in the history of the world that can casually unite you. it's allowing everyone to escalate their most whimsical fears into a panic disorder. it would be a shame if we were so irresponsible as to let the age of anxiety become so deafening, as history leads us to believe it will.

the crazy interlink pt. 1

2007-02-11T14:40:00.000-08:00

so recently I've been thinking a lot about the internet. this sounds very 1997 I know, but it doesn't mean i stare at AOL ads gushing over the convenience of e-mail, or how it's crazy that i have a telephone line hooked up to my computer. i mean this was all very exciting in 1997, especially when introduced with a video montage (soundtrack: gloria estefan) as it was at my mci-owned middle school. but it looks like the technology is stable enough, or at least predictable enough, to finally think about the new information flow as shifting dynamics, not just making it so that there is more information and the requisite isn't-that-great-isms.

so a few thoughts on what the internet is doing to music (this is mostly bullshit, but I have ready some essays, and i want you to consider).

music:

ok, here's the timeline about thoughts changing:

1998: "oh wow, you can download songs from the internet" - normal human
2001: "oh shit, downloading songs from the internet is fucking over the big four labels... we need to stop this 'downloading' from existing" - record executive
2001: "they shut down napster. now I will use kazaa or morpheus or soulseek" - normal human
2003: "well i guess we could make them pay for downloading songs" - record executive
2003: "i could buy this song from a store, or i could share music with people connected to my hard drive and this would be free and not really illegal" - normal human
the last 4 years: "we'll see about that" - record exec
the last 4 years: "there is nothing you can do" - normal human

pardon me for my gross oversimplifications, but the attitudes are developing anew such that industry people are recognizing that free downloading will never be eradicated--too decentralized, too perseverent, too widespread. they could arrest everyone who downloads for free, but that would be i don't know 50 million people. it exists, it isn't going away. just open the keys to the kingdom and make your money some other way.

so if record execs adopt free downloading as the accepted zero point rather than a transient blight (when things so good are introduced it's hard to make them be unborn... look at drugs, nuclear weapons, buffalo chicken tenders) what does this mean for the artists? it could, in fact, mean more artistry, less corporate aesthetic dication. BMG e.g. cannot rely on an artist to sell 10 million copies of a shitty new album because a) the obvious, people will just download it and b) they'll realize it's shitty before the product is ostensibly available and there goes all sympathy to support the record industry. so really it's a punch in the gut for marketers; they can't rely on the hype machine to generate hundred-deep lines at virgin megastore the midnight before the new whatever comes out, because, ironically, downloading allows people to actually know what they're buying. so my HOPE from all of this is that major labels will stop making 3-4 big names their profit centers and widen the base to say 20 artists with more modest expectations, modest marketing, etc. a decentralized base would make each talent a less central pillar to the quarterly earnings, so if one of them wants to go out and make a concept album about canadian geese or sailboats, whatever, let them do it.

this is very idealized... it underestimates the ability of the marketers to actually create concepts of good and bad music. and free downloading, at least significantly, is only a hobby of an itsy stratum of internet users. most people, if they're going to download one of the three albums they buy all year, will get it from the itunes store. in this sense the itunes store is retarding the delay of the acceptance of free downloading, the new business models labels will have to adopt in order to be stable for the long term, and music's final entry into the I-know-what-it-is-before-i-buy-it category of goods and services, which is the best category. in this sense, the itunes store is holding the entire music world in crumbly crumbly limbo. in this sense, the itunes store is the most damaging factor to music's necessary re-evaluation process.

let the music be free, restrain that marketing budget, and concetrate on developing talent over image. because any middle class child born today will know by kindergarten that you can download music for free. it will become the norm, and any businessman who doesn't get that is swimming against the current.

anything else that you can buy in a store vs. download for free is following the same path. mine is the last generation raised somewhat before the internet, so scare tactics can work to a certain extent. we were born on the "pay for it" side and witnessed the transition to "get it for free." we and everyone before us still thinks something is broken, because how are we getting away with this? but now these middle class kids are being born into the "get it for free" era and good luck reversing that. free downloading of whatever you can download for free will be the norm. because if it's free and widespread, why would i ever pay for it?

labels need to accept it and metamorphosize. this is what i mean about the internet's new role as a dynamics-shifter. the internet has maimed industries (music, film, print journalism, to name a few) that as yet have only tried to fight back. now, though, these industries are finally understanding that plan b--acceptance and adaptation--is the way to go.

because the debut of the internet is not just a cool 1997 thing like we treat it. it's consistently re-debuting, and affectees are still running to put out the old fires. what will it be like when the internet stops revealing itself? how will we even feel on a day like that?

Hallelujah!

2006-11-14T22:04:00.000-08:00

I have broken many promises in my life. Many, many promises. But rarely have I so flagrantly flaked out of something than with this. Starting now, and by now I mean next semester but for real this time, that's going to change. Those fuckers (fuckers=actually nice guys, especially if they want to give me a job) at Ivygate kind of stole our idea, so now it's time to strike back. Phase one is a picture that makes Jesus look very gay. I mean, he is really going for it here. Just wait until you see what phase two is. Hint: it's more gay.

My election predictions

2006-11-05T12:33:00.000-08:00

I think the Democrats will pick up 20-25 seats in the house, comfortably more than the 15 they need to take control.

The Senate isn't looking as good for Democrats as it was a week ago. Bob Corker has an 8-point lead over Harold Ford in the latest polls, when a couple weeks ago it was dead heat. Also, surprisingly, Bush's stump for Conrad Burns in Montana seems to be reaping benefits, as a recent poll has them gridlocked at 47-47.

The good news for Dems is that Bob Menendez appears to be securing a lead over Tom Kean, Jr. in Jersey, 51-44 most recently. That being such a blue state, it would shock me if it turned over. Also, James Webb has a slight lead over George Allen in the latest Virginia polls, and has been given a slight edge.

The last-ditch efforts by Republicans to steal seats in Michigan and Maryland appear unlikely. Michael Steele is a fucking idiot.

If we give Democrats the benefit of Montana and Virginia, it all comes down to Missouri. Claire McCaskill and Jim Talent are tied like whoa. This election could come down to a few thousand votes. If Democrats are able to edge out these three states, they'll win the house.

I wouldn't count on it, though. I think the good ol' boys in Vahhginia will pick Allen, by the narrowest of margins. Conrad Burns, hopefully people will remember, is a terrible senator, so that should go to Tester. Therefore, if McCaskill wins, it'll be 50-50 in the Senate with Cheney giving it to the GOP, if Talent wins, it will be a slightly more comfortable 51-49.

But that's not to say the Democrats don't have a chance to win the Senate. The advantage seems to be tilting towards the Republicans in the last couple of days is all.

yay politics!

A couple of albums that might slip into the year's top 10

2006-10-24T20:03:00.000-07:00

Yeah, so much for ironic headlines.

It's obviously been a weak year for music, probably the worst since '03 (although Wrens/Shins obsessives will punch me for that). Even worse, actually.

I have my favorite albums of the year thus far posted on my facebook profile, and my nos. 1 & 2 are Yo La Tengo and Belle and Sebastian, respectively. They both made great albums, sure, but the fact that they're my two favorite albums of AN ENTIRE YEAR says something. It's not 1997. This shouldn't be happening, especially when the albums are probably the 3rd or 4th best of each group's career. The bests of recent years--Kanye, Deerhoof, Streets, etc.--are distinctly aut-music. They shouldn't have to call the vets for relief.

That said, a couple of interesting albums from the last couple of months might just fill the youngin' void:

1) Grizzly Bear, Yellow House. Hard to categorize. Closest analogues would be Philly psych-folk heroes Espers and maybe Castanets. Grizzly Bear is much more captivating though--not totally subsumed with atmospherics, bursts of little orchestration and, I tempo shifts. Definitely an album's album, too. Don't ask for a track recommendation (although I could probably choose one).

2) The Thermals, The Body, The Blood, The Machine. Kind of like John Darnielle with a flying-V and a Bible. The Bible referencing isn't as rough as it sounds, as he chooses stories about people being smote. Not like, stupid stuff. Soundwise it channels the 77-83 (post-)punk territory Ted Leo's made such good use of. Truly one of the more entertaining albums of recent months. It doesn't require much from you, so we'll see if that's a flaw down the road.

IS YO LA TENGO SAFE THOUGH? Probably.

New Shins(eki)

2006-10-24T09:18:00.000-07:00

First, the comparison must be noted:

1) Shins (bones)-- 3.5 stars. They keep you standing, but get sore when you run for the first time in a while.

2) General Shinseki-- 4.5 stars. Stuck it to Bush. A negative half-point for getting fired, and thus being ineffective.

3) Shins (band), new album: Wincing the Night Away-- rating to be determined. Just got the full thing today, and it's surely different. More synths, self-consciously experimental, a la latest Strokes. Still, it's better than that, I think.

It'll probably be a grower, whereas Chutes was one of the most immediate albums of the last few years. Then again, that album crashed and burned after a few dozens spins. Can't remember the last time I listened to it. Garden State had a really negative effect on these guys; they got the superlatives the New Pornographers deserved more. Nevertheless, listening to this new album, I remembered why I liked the Shins to begin with-- tightness, lyrics. I hope it lasts.

now is the winter of our ressssurrection

2006-10-23T21:04:00.000-07:00

Hi!

I'm going to start writing on the blog again. My goal is to never proofread a word, so if there are ridiculous grammatical/spelling errors, you're just gonna have to deal. My writings will primarily be about music, but every now and then I get a good (obnoxious) political bent. This blog will unbend it. That means nothing. Also, I'll have opinions about movies, culture, the future of print publications, etc. I will try hard not to rant, but I will. It will be text heavy. It will be unoriginal. But it will be special, and happy. I will talk about my personal life, extensively.

I don't know whether co-blogger Tim will come back. But perhaps I will send him an e-mail about it. He's a much better writer, anyway.

If what I've written above makes no sense, it's because it isn't proofread or edited. I wrote this in as much time as it's taken you to read it. Keep in touch, babe.

A Warning

2006-01-06T22:48:00.000-08:00

My New Years Resolutions. I picked three because its God's favorite number:

1) Write more on blog.
2) Bright more on log.
3) Restore honor and integrity to the oval office.

Does anyone remember 2000? How Bush said it all the time? That line used to kill...I hate you all.

And This? (you have to read down to see the other titles for that to make sense, and even then it's not that funny)

2006-01-06T22:45:00.000-08:00

The summer before I came to Columbia as a first-year, I never got a haircut. By the end of August, my parents said I looked like a surly hobo; my friends thought angry but skinny drug dealer; my 6-year-old sister babbled something about a pony. The mortifying picture on my CUID—dear God, I still have to look at it every day—demonstrates that they were all right, except for my sister. That pony thing was just wrong. But nobody who met me at Columbia after that summer knew this. The day before I came, I got a really, really short haircut.

I don’t know why I thought that hair was the way to do it, but my motivation resembled that of many new college students: I wanted to create a new identity. The Onion brilliantly captured this desire, as it brilliantly captures most things, in an article titled “College Freshman Cycles Rapidly Through Identities.” It details the transformations of one new student. He starts out as a frat-guy wannabe, then moves through stoner, white hip-hop kid, and tortured artist before settling on really religious or film nerd.

The humor from this column comes from its painful familiarity. Especially at Columbia, housed in a city that promises renewal, people come to college to escape who they were and become something new.Some, perhaps in the quest to fashion an intellectual self, learn that the hottest academic theory considers this whole process of self-creation a charade. From Clifford Geertz in anthropology, to Stephen Greenblatt in literature, and Michel Foucault for pretty much everything else in the humanities, post-modern theorists have rested their entire project on a rejection of the self. Greenblatt aptly summarizes this view when he writes that the self is merely “the ideological product of the relations of power in a particular society.” People think they control their self, but it is actually a blank slate upon which societal institutions carve out a meaning. Without these institutions, there is no there there.

Accepting this insight can prove remarkably painful. In the heartbreaking conclusion of Renaissance Self-Fashioning: From More to Shakespeare—which is not how one usually describes the conclusion of a book with a title like Renaissance Self-Fashioning: From More to Shakespeare—Greenblatt admits that, although he believes in the artificiality of the self, he still has “an overwhelming need to sustain the illusion that I am the principle maker of my own identity.”

Despite its wretchedly depressing nature, this theory has tremendous explanatory power. While applying to colleges, I always wished that I had control of a time machine and multiple universes. That way, I could see the type of person I would become after four years at all the schools I considered. I came to Columbia largely because I thought that Yale-me would be a douchebag, and that University-of-Chicago-me would learn to speak Klingon. This fantasy recognized that at some level I was giving up control of part of my identity to whichever college I attended.

But people give control of their identities to outside forces every day. The Core Curriculum, viewed in this light, seems less an example of the noble pursuit of knowledge than an attempt to give students the skills necessary to function in upper-class American society—which is why professors note that knowledge of Euripides can kill at a cocktail party. Participation in extracurricular activities imbues a person with a social status they wouldn’t have if they just stayed in their room. Even in relationships, people turn to another for meaning they can’t find in themselves.

Because college students’ selves are in constant flux, they have a particularly strong obsession with the accurate presentations of those selves, as anyone who has walked through a computer lab in Butler during finals week and seen rows of students madly revising their Facebook profiles can attest. If the same person walks outside of Butler and happens to notice the people sitting on the benches, smoking clove cigarettes, wearing blazers over ironic T-shirts, eyes covered by aviator glasses, and talking about how Wolf Parade was so June, she has enough material for an essay in a post-modernist review. It gets too easy if she follows this with a walk down frat row.

People fixate so intensely on their identities because they have to. “In our culture,” Greenblatt rightly claims, “to let go of one’s stubborn hold upon selfhood, even selfhood conceived as a fiction, is to die.” Eeep.

If nothing else, the changes a personality can go through in college demonstrate the painful fragility of this selfhood. On their first day, one of the only things that most first-years can probably say with certainty is that they want to be somebody different at the end of four years. By and large, they succeed, sometimes so quickly that they don’t even notice.

A few weeks after arriving at Columbia my first year, I visited one of my best friends from high school. While waiting to meet her for the first time since the summer, I skimmed over a newspaper. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her coming. I looked up to say hello, but before the words left my lips, she walked past me. Later, while I made fun of her for forgetting who I was after three weeks, she told me she hadn’t recognized me because I had changed. It was the hair.

And This!

2006-01-06T22:44:00.000-08:00

I actually had to talk to Christians for this.

At the end of assembly, which my elementary school had at the beginning of every week, we all had to sing Father Abraham. Because of this, every Monday for five years, I joined in with an unruly mass of kids between the ages of six and 11 while we sang along to a song we kind-of-but-not-really knew. Afterwards, we ran around in angry circles until we got dizzy and fell down. Sometimes, teachers gave us ice cream.

We also had to attend Bible-study classes three times a week. Since most of the assignments involved drawing animals we would have brought with us onto Noah’s ark—I chose the butterfly, because nobody ever suspects the butterfly—we didn’t take them seriously

That was the extent of the religious training I received at my Methodist elementary school. But even if teachers didn’t make us memorize catechism, or whatever its Methodist equivalent is—see, bad school—religion insinuated itself into our lives. When I turned 10 and had my first pretentious existential crisis, I turned to the person I respected most in the world for help: my school’s principal, who was also its pastor.

Columbia reminds me of elementary school in many respects, but not this one. Although deeply religious students come here, they tend to isolate themselves from the broader community for understandable, and perhaps necessary, reasons. Moreover, the rest of student body, whose attitudes tend to range between apathy and slightly more apathy, don’t usually provide the most supportive atmosphere.

Some want to change this. A recent article in The New York Times detailed the efforts of a group of students supported by Christian activist groups across the country to, in their words, “reclaim the Ivy League for Christ.” They take their work seriously. As one explained in a grammatically mind-blowing sentence that, coming from an advocate of family values, still makes me giggle, religious students in the Ivy League today act as “a finger in the dike of keeping back the flood of immorality.” Must... not... laugh...

To add some fingers, they rely on the financial support of people like “Julian L. McPhillips Jr., a wealthy Princeton alumnus,” who believes he “cured an employee’s migraine headaches just by praying for him.” Apparently, they “joke in [his] office that we don’t need health insurance.” It’s a funny joke.

Others have given up on redeeming the Ivies altogether. Instead, they flock to established religious colleges. Most of these schools are Christian, for the simple reason that most Americans are as well. They include Bob Jones, for Fundamentalists; Brigham Young, for Mormons; and Thomas Aquinas, for Catholics.

It’s very easy, from our heavily guarded citadel deep in the heart of Blue America, to look askance at these schools, all of which describe themselves as “the Harvard of” whatever, even though they admit students who got a check for participation on their SATs. Okay, that is pretty funny, and not creepy “God told me you don’t need health insurance” funny.

But the stereotypes, as usual, conceal more than they reveal. Bob Jones, for instance, has an amazing gallery of religious art that comprises work from artists like Rubens and Botticelli. And for every slack-jawed Cletus in training, an admissions official can point to someone who got a 2400 on her boards back when they still went to only 1600 and turned down the Harvard of the Ivy League, Princeton.

More importantly, the students themselves seem happy. Compelled by God, who for some reason cares about this kind of thing, they approach learning with a purposefulness many of their Sparknotes-skimming counterparts in secular colleges lack. They have lower rates of drug use and depression. Despite their largely lily-white student body, minority students say they feel integrated into the university community.

One problem, though, afflicts students at both religious and secular colleges. When a reporter asked a professor at Thomas Aquinas, “If Nietzsche is taught with the same consideration as, say Thomas Aquinas, isn’t it likely that at least some of the students will come away doubting the existence of God,” the professor answered by “clench[ing] her hands around the edge of the table” and “rais[ing] her voice,” before becoming frustrated and leaving abruptly.

The professor had difficulty responding to the question because the answer was so obvious: of course some students will doubt. At its best, a liberal arts education challenges students’ most fundamental beliefs—even their belief in God. The people who get the most out of a college education are those willing to lose everything they ever had so they can get more. Luckily none of them have started their real lives yet, so they can afford to do so.

Except for people who take their beliefs and their education seriously. Knowledge can be more important for them, but it’s also more dangerous, because they have already found something they can’t afford to lose. Nietzsche, or any secular thinker, may be wrong. But unless students endanger their faith, they can’t seriously entertain the proposition that he may be right. Whether they do so at Bob Jones or at Brown, those who regard their religion as more than an excuse to get ice cream have to decide what they can sacrifice for their intellectual life. Unfortunately, so does everyone else.

How Bout This?

2006-01-06T22:43:00.000-08:00

From my late, lamented column.

On Friday morning, while most students are busy sleeping off hangovers, or pretending to have to sleep off hangovers because if everyone knows that you go home instead of drinking on Thursday nights they’ll think I’m...I mean you...are a loser, some people are in class. Many are pre-meds in Orgo, because Columbia decided to prove the Duke of Gloucester’s observation in King Lear that, “As flies to wanton boys are [pre-med students] to the [Columbia scheduling] gods, / They [schedule classes really early for] us for their sport.” About 130 people, though, have come to a class that does not fulfill any academic requirements and that many of them probably would not take if the directory contained only its title, “Challenges of Sustainable Development.” But right next to the title is the name of the professor. That name, of course, is Jeffrey Sachs.

For those who don’t know who Jeffrey Sachs is, I hate you. Seriously, go read something that isn’t US Weekly. As those who skim Time, which excerpted his most recent book as its cover story, or watch television, where he appears frequently, or read people’s shirts, which let the world know that, like Jesus, he is the wearers’ “homeboy,” or whom he has told himself, already know, Jeffrey Sachs, head of the Earth Institute at Columbia, is really famous for being really smart. Closely tied with the U.N. and Kofi Annan, he played a key role in the creation of the Millennium Development Goals, a plan for eliminating extreme global poverty.

He also has a devoted contingent of followers on campus. These are the people selling the shirts and going to his class. Last week, Chris Kulawik, whose column runs in this space on alternate Wednesdays, discussed them in an article called “The Cult of Sachs.” The title matches the column’s less-than-admiring tone. The same day, my e-mail box exploded with angry letters from students demanding the chance to defend Sachs, or, failing that, put Kulawik’s head on a spike so they could drink from it, become stronger, and sacrifice it to their dark master.

More importantly, the letters demonstrated that although their authors loved Sachs, they cared about eliminating global poverty more. This argument repeated itself in almost every letter: “No one is expecting that you would want to ‘cuddle with poor African orphans,’ but maybe it would be cool if you wanted them to be able to stay alive past their 5th birthday. Both of their parents are dead already because of AIDS and other diseases. You can’t even imagine what that is like. Neither can I, but at least that doesn’t stop me ... from wanting to help.”

The absolute misery of the lives of the more than one billion people who live on less than a dollar a day make this sentiment understandable. For them, the suffering Hurricane Katrina brought to its victims in America would make for just another, albeit wetter, day. As Sachs details early on in his book: “Every morning our newspapers could report, ‘More than 20,000 people perished yesterday of extreme poverty’ ... The poor die in hospital wards that lack drugs, in villages that lack antimalarial bed nets, in houses that lack safe drinking water.”

Jesus said “the poor are always with us,” but he lived 2,000 years ago, when people were even stupider than they are now. Eight hundred pages earlier, Adam tried to hide from God—who had created the universe a couple of days before—by sneaking behind a tree. Today, no educated person has an excuse for ignorance or apathy concerning the severity of global poverty. Regardless of his program’s merits, Sachs has at least made this clear.

But to his groupies on campus, the details of Sachs’s plan matter less than it’s righteousness. Even those who don’t actually do anything about global poverty can feel a sweet rush from their moral endorphins every time they condemn someone for cold-heartedness, ignorance, and inhumanity.

Anyone with true sympathy for the conditions of the world’s poor, though, might have that superiority high undercut by the massive guilt that comes from living surrounded by the privileges of life at the top of American society. In truth, we all could, and perhaps should, sacrifice everything we have, move to Malawi, and devote our lives to helping others, and that would still help only an infinitesimal fraction of the people who need it. Small acts of charity make a difference; dropping out of school and having your parents donate the rest of your tuition to UNICEF does more. Claiming sympathy for the poor comes with a price. Even Jesus knew that.

In every class that deals with people who lived more than 50 years ago, someone always takes the time to condemn the inexplicable stupidity of those who somehow failed to live by our contemporary standards. If Thomas Jefferson can’t defend himself from angry undergraduates today, imagine what future generations will think when they look back on a time when the wealthiest, most influential people stood idly by while thousands died unnecessary deaths every day. They’ll despise those who ignored the problem just as much as we despise slaveholders like Jefferson today, and they’ll be right to do so. But they won’t think too highly of those who sold T-shirts (and wrote columns) either.

Quote of the Day

2006-01-06T22:40:00.000-08:00

"All of Springfields biggest celebrities are present. Mr. Teenie is there."

I've been watching too much Simpsons DVD commentary.

The Best Albums of 2005, part 2

2005-12-19T11:59:00.000-08:00

Anyway, back to where we started. Sorry if the writing sucks, I'm pretty spent.

10) The National - Alligator
As music--the actual sound part, that--becomes more and more derivative, there's added pressure to make up for this in lyrics. I mentioned this in a different way with Separation Sunday, but the two albums use their lyrics for different ends. While that tells an deeply personal story, Alligator relies more on imagism, with a bit of an edge. On "All the Wine," the album's second best cut, lines like "I'm a birthday candle in a circle full of black girls/ God is on my side" comes off as jarring at first, but find a unique meaning in their earnestness. But the buck doesn't stop with the lyrics. "Baby We'll Be Fine," the best on the album, is layered so densely, comes together so algebraically, closes with some tense staccato flourishes--like most tracks on the album, the music reveals a tension in the music that's easy to gloss over at first.

9) LCD Soundsystem - s/t
LCD Soundsystem was a lock for my top 5 for most of the year, and I can't tell whether its drop stems from its January release. Make no mistake, the album's a gem. It's one of the few dance albums I can listen to knowing that its creator, James Murphy, is as big a music nerd as I am. That's probably where its accessibility comes from. "Daft Punk is Playing at My House" is a teenage suburb wannabe-hipster fantasy, i.e. my life. In sum, LCD's debut bested all of those expectations that "Losing my Edge/Beat Connection" and "Yeah" set.

8) Edan - Beauty and the Beat
Psychadelic hip hop, bring me home! Yeah, never would've expected a lo-fi hip hop album would be the year's biggest (and best) acid trip. I feel astonishingly white right now, seeing as how I've picked a rocked-out hip hop album for my top 10. This won't get any better with #7, the whitest hip hop album this side of Will Smith. But let's mitigate it with the fact that this is unequivocally a hip hop album; the rhymes are the key here despite the creative backdrop.

7) Kanye West - Late Registration
And I heard 'em say (well, really just Kanye... and Time) that this album would be the best produced, most exquisite hip hop album ever made, full of strings! dissonance! MAD RHYMES! It's well known that hip hop artists really have no taste for rock (see Jay Z and Linkin Part), so I don't blame Kanye for thinking "hey, if I add some strings to this song, it'll sound so classy, so fucking emotional." Strings are the most cliche grab for universal success in the past 10 years of rock--but not in hip hop, so a few points there. Yeah, it sounds like he's overexerting himself frequently, but I won't knock him too much for that either. LR packs the goods--"Gone" is absolutely astonishing, and "Touch the Sky" is redemptive. Not as much of a classic as College Dropout, my #1 of last year, but an important chapter in Kanye's developing saga.

6) Sleater-Kinney - The Woods
I'm not that much of a riot grrrl; fortunately, neither are Sleater-Kinney anymore, and they practically invented that shizz. This isn't punk, this is rawk to an extent I didn't know chicks could reach. Sorry if that's misogynist... actually no, I'm not sorry... but I do, admittedly, feel emasculated listening to this album. At the same time, I feel good about the state of the industry--seven albums into their career, SK are still pushing new boundaries and have never released a bad record. They turn it way into the red here, all the while maintaining that 3-part chemistry that made their name to begin with.

5) M.I.A. - Arular
Here's where the whole "importance" vs. "quality" debate comes into play. I've decided objective music criticism doesn't exist. That said, importance of an album plays a larger role under these conditions, especially when you're thinking of how an album will be remembered in 5, 10, 30 years. M.I.A. is 2005, the first artist to really bring globalized, integrated worldviews into American popular music. Much like a Zadie Smith novel, Arular shows the (definitely positive) interplay of cultures that's sprung from the times. Plus, the beats are sick and Maya A.'s found herself a nice niche lyrically--"President Bush doin' takeovaaa," par exemple. Not quite as good as her mixtape with Diplo last year, but more profound, I think.

4) Bright Eyes - I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning
Lifted --remember that? That shit-encrusted, flaccid abortion Bright Eyes released in 2002? I thought I'd never listen to his music again, but I popped on the new tunes for some reason and was hooked immediately. It's alt-country in the best of ways, but it against the insecure ruminations of life in NYC with the ease of a wizened Tweedy. It's hard to imagine this guy, still in his early 20s, can be so subtly evocative given his whiny nature. And he's able to make the most affecting anti-war statements of the past two years. A contemporary alt-country classic that ranks right up there with Heartbreaker and Anodyne.

3) The Decemberists - Picaresque
Are the Decemberists driving the last stake in indie rock's chest? Kind of an odd thing to say about your #3 album of the year, sure, but, as Tom Breihan discussed on his Village Voice blog, the Decems represent that disgusting shift of indie rock towards cutesy pop (see Death Cab for Cutie, the Shins, etc.). As for me, I say not yet. Let's not knock the Decemberists. Colin Meloy writes from a surreal, literary vernacular with the skill of an established fiction writer. His, well, picaresque cast of characters adds a whiff of "plot" to the already solid tunes. Seriously, "The Mariner's Revenge Song" is the best short story of the year. Nevertheless, it's up to these guys now to take more chances. Hopefully they'll be able to on a major label.

2) The New Pornographers - Twin Cinema
I've always dismissed these guys as overhyped, that they rested too much on their laurels as an "all-star musicians" rather than a cohesive group. Along with A.C. Newman's solo album from last year, their first two albums seemed too saccharine and too unwilling to develop into anything fresh. TC doesn't change much, but works better. The group's tighter, the hooks are A1, and Bejar and Newman's songs seem to mesh better. Songs 1-8 rival any power pop stretch in recent memory, and Bejar's "Streets of Fire" necessarily grounds the album towards the end. It's a shame the group hasn't gotten as popular as the Shins, because Newman and Co. have bested that Chutes too Narrow hogwash.

1) Deerhoof - The Runners Four
Yes, I love Nick Sylvester's writing. Yes, I like it when the New York Times writes an extensive feature on a talented but perennially middling spazz rock outfit. But I had no idea Deerhoof, fucking Deerhoof, would be my number one album of the year completely independent of said praise. I got this album over the summer, let it float in the iTunes library for a while, and checked it out again after Sylvester started going nuts over it. This was four months ago, and I have listened to very few other albums since. The Runners Four gets the number one slot by a mile.

To make a hyperbolic cliche (which exists for a reason), The Runners Four is the template for the way an epic, sprawling, ambitious, experimental rock album should sound in 2005. The musicians (namely Greg Saunier) are beyond talented, as they have always been. But while most Deerhoof albums hover around the 30 minute mark, TRF is about 70 and still consistently satisfying. "Wrong Time Capsule" and "Spirit Ditties of No Tone" bring the noise more directly than your usual 'Hoof; "Ulysses" adds a previously uncharted dream quality to the band's repertoire, "Spy on You" shows the band's capacity for balladry; "O'Malley, Former Underdog" channels the Who; "Running Thoughts" breaks into a almost-maybe dissonant cymbal escapade as cerebral as any Sonic Youth song; and "Chatterboxes" and "Rrrrright" bookend the album with more traditional "non-traditional" spazz-outs. I'm still not convinced they're the best band in the world, as NS would suggest, but they've got 2005 pretty well locked up.

The Best Albums of 2005

2005-12-18T16:23:00.000-08:00

Hello faithful readers!

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, yes, I'm sorry. Haven't posted in a while. Of course, you probably don't care, but if you're reading this, you must have some interest in what Hungry has to say. With that, I'm unveiling the post I've always wanted. Yes, I'm a music whore, and this list is probably... hmm... 64% of the reason I wanted to start this blog with Tim. I can't promise a shitload of updates in the future, nor can Tim. But here's one I hope you enjoy. My list of the top 20 albums of 2005.

But a few more words. I entered 2005 with huge expectations. Last December, shit looked good: new albums from really important artists. By and large, the expectations went unfulfilled. Some were fantastic, but paled in comparison to earlier work (Beck, Sigur Ros, Super Furry Animals). Some weren't that bad, but weren't that good either (White Stripes, Silver Jews, Missy Elliott, Broken Social Scene). Some were flat out duds (Daft Punk, Fiery Furnaces and jesus fucking christ, Weezer). And some actually lived up to the hype (Decemberists, Sleater-Kinney, New Pornographers). But every year, the expectations don't seem to matter anyway. The majority of this list is made of new artists, comeback artists and out-of-the-blue statement makers. It's better that way--the unpredictability of how a year will be remembered is what makes music criticism so fun. That said, 2005 will probably rank in the middle of the pack as far as the "best years" of music in the new decade. I think the order's like this, from best to worst: 2002, 2000, 2001, 2005, 2004, 2003. Take it or leave it.

20) Beck - Guero
I don't understand why critics, and fans, met this album with such a lukewarm reception. I also don't understand how the morons who complained Change was too unBeck dismiss Guero, ostensibly their wet dream. Sure, there's some retread of Odelay, but using that to discredit Guero undermines the precision, range and development of Beck. He couldn't have made a song like "Broken Drum" in 1996, for one. That's totally post-Sea Change. Every song here is meticulous in its detail, from the change of pace in the middle of "Rental Car," to that killer slide guitar near the end of "Emergency Exit." It may not be one of Beck's best, but it shows he's still relevant (and, fuck, talented!).

19) The Hold Steady - Separation Sunday
I had only heard a couple songs on this album before I bought it, unsure of what to really expect. Tim warned me of its, ahem, Catholicism... but we both liked it in the end. Craig Finn's voice is jarringly bar-band at first, but he's able to use that to his advantage a la Springsteen. Riffs are good, yeah, but it's the lyrics. By god, the lyrics. He's able to weave an intensely personal story throughout this album. I can't relate to a lot of the religious stuff, but Finn doesn't proselytize. He's telling about what he knows, and telling us to take it or leave it. And I take; oh, how I take. In fact, "Stevie Nix" probably has the best lyrics of the year: "She got screwed up by religion/ She got screwed by soccer players/ She got high for the first time in the camps down by the banks of the Mississippi River/ Lord, to be seventeen forever." The sentimental pussy in me (meaning all of me) is crying.

18) Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - s/t
Six months ago these guys had about 20 fans, groupies who followed them through a series of small, opening gigs in NYC and Philly. But after David Bowie pops up at a show, calls them the Next Big Thing, and Pitchfork crystallizes it, their opening gigs are attracting lines of scenesters stretching from the Church door to fucking Market. Are the tunes worth it? Well, probably not. There's lots of potential here, and it's a damn good album (especially with "In this Home on Ice" and that child star one). But it seems they're the latest to fill that amorphous "last great indie band" slot, mostly because of that whole self-release thing. And they have no stage presence. None.

17) Mazarin - We're Already There
The last couple of years have been kind to the burgeoning Philly indie rock scene (Espers, Audible, Man Man, Dr. Dog, the Teeth) and Mazarin's the best in the lot. We're Already There isn't much at first--some catchy tunes and nonsense instrumentals. But it stays with you. "I'm With You and the Constellations" has a screeching guitar to bring it home behind that pop shine. And "Louise" is one of the very, very few songs that deserves the sacred Neutral Milk Hotel comparison. Philly's finest, baby.

16) Spoon - Gimme Fiction
I never liked Spoon that much before Gimme Fiction. But the album, for me, has validated their entire back catalog. Spoon manages to carve a distinct niche, all the while sounding wholly original and diverse at the same time. Gimme Fiction may be less innovative than Kill the Moonlight, but it's equally affecting. "I Summon You," "They Never Got You" and "I Turn My Camera On," perhaps the three simplest songs on the album, are grandiose in their technicality. Try making a song that simple, that perfect.

15) The Clientele - Strange Geometry
Sure, the lead singer sounds like Davy Jones. (Un)fortunately, not much else does. Dream-pop isn't the best way to describe it; and Britpop, oh God, please don't use that word. Strange Geometry is unassuming, unpretentious and infinitely accessible English countryside tunage. I don't know who or what this "K" business is though.

14) Common - Be
You know, a lot of people hate Common for this album. They think he's riding the Kanye coattails rather than keeping his agency. But give the man some credit. He's managed to have a classic, cornerstone album in each of the three waves of alt-rap (1992's Resurrection, 2000's Like Water for Chocolate, and Be). And don't knock on Kanye's production skills--songs like "the Corner" and "Real People" show them at their best: when Kanye's not trying too hard for his own sake. And as the guy at Tower told me when I bought Be, "Common--he makes you think." Indeed.

13) Fiona Apple - Extraordinary Machine (Jon Brion version)
Honestly, I still haven't heard the Elizondo version, but I don't think I want to. Everything I want from Extraordinary Machine is right here. People chided Brion's lavish, baroque production, but the touch of theatrical irony (or was it?) worked here. Extraordinary Machine is meant to be cathartic, so perhaps I appreciate the accordant balls-against-the-wall production. And "Waltz" makes me dance alone, and I like anything that can do that. Which is a lot of things. But still.

12) Sufjan Stevens - Illinois
Yes, that's a "2" after the "1." It's not a mistake either. Because, goddamnit, I just can't feel the Illini. There's a classic album here, and then there's 10 more tracks. For every fucking perfect "Casimir Pulaski," there's a kill-me-now "Chicago" that threatens to dismantle the whole album. And the whole 50 States thing is such a load of indulgent, gimmicky bullshit. Nonetheless, Illinois represents the kind of impossible, ambitious chances more artists need to take, and that's a guaranteed top 20 there.

11) Wolf Parade - Apologies to the Queen Mary
The Arcade Fire of 2005? Get out of my face. See, Wolf Parade have talent. Wolf Parade are not whiny. Wolf Parade can play their instruments. Wolf Parade don't make me feel like a pussy. Maybe a webzine whore, but not a pussy. "Shine a Light," "Modern World," "I'll Believe in Anything"--can't nobody hold that shit down.

10-1 tomorrow!

Bill Bennett As Metaphor For Four More Ears of Corn

2005-10-29T14:58:00.000-07:00

So hell's fires have receded for the moment, it's time to blog. Short update here, more things throughout the week, including (but not limited to):

1) My assessment of the New York Times, marking the 6-month anniversary of my daily subscription.

2) Reviews--Dangerdoom, Deerhoof, Fiery Furnaces, etc.

3) Halloween-as-unified-statement.

4) The word "ersatz."

5) Hungry Mixtape, Vol. 2!

6) Everything is Terrible, Pt. 2!

7) Vol. 2, Pt. 2!

8) Benjamin Kunkel's Indecision

9) Harriet Miers = Chris Farley = George W. Bush - George Bush Sr.

10) Bill Bennett... in his drawers.

See ya tomorrow.

Also

2005-10-07T09:27:00.000-07:00

That Bill Bennet picture is sexy. Damn sexy.

I Have a Theme! I Love Themes!

2005-10-07T09:11:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I had a column-related epiphany, which on the scale of epiphanes is pretty pathetic. But on the scale of me-related epiphanies, it's about as good as it gets. For the next little while, belief is the new skepticisim. Mostly, how do people manage to do it. It's a concept discussed remarkably well in—where else?—Serenity. Ever since I saw that movie, also known as the movie you all have to go see, I've been thinking about it. A lot of the stuff I'm going to write this semester is a consequence of that. The stuff that isn't you know, historiographical essays for class, or editorials for Spec. So, a lot of the worthwhile stuff I'm writing this semester is going to be on that. Here's my first try:

Last year, more than 2,500 students at Columbia went to pysch services looking for help. Some of their problems were probably serious—dead relatives, divorcing parents, abusive friends. Others, at least from an outsider’s perspective, probably weren’t —“I’m too rich,” “My butt’s too flat,” “Everyone has less amazing sex than me.” But no matter what was wrong, they all had something in common: a bleak, brief, life spinning in an endless void. As Summer from The OC put it, “life is, well, random, unfair and ultimately meaningless.”

Or at least that’s what it feels like sometimes. And when someone feels like that, depression feels like the logical conclusion. Of course, not everyone who goes to psych services goes because of existential dread, but that attitude runs underneath much of Columbia’s —and, for that matter, the country’s—intellectual life, or at least that part of intellectual life that deals with life. Andrew Delbanco, head of the American Studies department here, aptly summarizes the secular consensus: “We have reached a point where it is not only specific objects of belief that have been discredited but the very capacity to believe… It is divesture without reinvestment.” (Full Disclosure: I’m in a class with Professor Delbanco this semester, but since I’m fairly certain nobody except my Mom will read this, I’m okay with quoting him. Also, Hi Mom!)

Among intellectuals, disbelief has become almost a prerequisite for discussion. They have reached a point where, as Richard Rorty, another professor, but this time at Stanford, puts it: “we no longer worship anything, where we treat nothing as a quasi-divinity, where we treat everything—our language, our conscience, our community—as a product of time and chance.” Secure in their disbelief, the best and brightest have smashed, at least to their satisfaction, the old constructs that used to give people meaning. God, country, and self-hood, among many other victims, all stand revealed as delusions foisted upon us by ourselves. But everybody has had so much fun in the rubble, smashing tiny bits into even tinier ones, that nobody has yet gotten around to constructing anything new. So, for now at least, we’re adrift, or, in preferred academic speak, post-. This constitutes the background, the white noise of a contemporary liberal arts education. And, as Summer knows, it’s fucking depressing.

In a cruel coincidence, though, the structure of society works to further inculcate this worldview in students. With America having grounded its intellectual class, for now at least, to the academy, those most enamored with post-ism are also those most exposed to some of the most impressionable people in the country: us. This reality, however, runs counter to the natural inclinations of youth, simply because many haven’t had the chance to get jaded yet. It produces a jarring dissonance in students. The same people who want more than anything to have something to believe in spend their days listening to professors who tell them in countless ways that there is nothing worth believing in. The lucky ones can ignore it, even make their apathy into a virtue that demonstrates their worldliness or courage. Others can’t. In a grand tradition of aspiring intellectuals that runs at least as far back as Hamlet, they feel melancholy.

But some refuse to give up. Instead of endlessly examining themselves, they look to the world outside. Groups like the College Democrats, the College Republicans, Amnesty International, Columbia Global Justice, and Students for Choice can provide students with more than resume fodder. Students who throw themselves into these groups can spend so much time in them that they never come up for intellectual air. Monomaniacal zeal, after all, makes for a damn good organizer. Students outside protesting for a socialist revolution don’t have time to think about their place in the world because they’re too busy saving it. Religious students, despite the widespread opposition to their beliefs implicit in official academic ideology, also maintain a strong presence on campus, as anyone who attended an almost-empty classroom on Yom Kippur can attest. Members of campus religious organization often lead lives that are much, much better than those of many Columbia students. By many Columbia students, I mean me. They study hard, volunteer in the community, and work to save the immortal souls of their fellow man, while I ineffectually strive to unlock hidden characters in my Gamecube’s Super Smash Brothers.

This devotion, though, does nothing to help students who can’t believe in God or in politics. Since it’s much easier/funner to tear something down than build it back up, there are some who recognize a need for new beliefs, but don’t actually want to help create them. Instead, they content themselves with waiting. After all, those who have already lost faith in faith can afford to. Besides, something will come along. It has to.

They’re wrong. Even if beliefs are constructs, with all the contingency and irrationality that implies, people still need them to make sense of life—even people who should know better. But twiddling mental thumbs while waiting for new beliefs to come doesn’t make them come any faster. The last generation has done a fantastic job of understanding the problem of faith, and they’ve done an even better job of doing absolutely nothing to address it. Maybe it’s our turn to start trying.

Serernity Now/Later/Forever, Oh That Would Be So Nice, And Also Angel, Because I Miss It

2005-10-02T23:14:00.000-07:00

Yum, blogsploits. Anyway, following up on my earlier post, everyone should go see Serenity. It doesn't make up for losing the show, and there are still some Buffy and Angel episodes I would take over it, but it's a damn good movie.

For an explanation of why TV is the new 19th century novel, and Joss Whedon is the new Charles Dickens, check out Slate. Ooh, I see that the generally-pretty-kick-ass Dave Edelstein has a good review up too.

This is the part where I gloat. See, Jim, I told you Firefly/Angel/Buffy were awesome. As the Miami Herald pointed out last Friday, there are two types of people in this world: people who think Joss Whedon is a genius, and people who are wrong.

Which brings me to the point which will hopefully lead me to my next posts. That's right, posts, coming on Wednesday. Joss Whedon being the genius he is, after seeing Serenity I now know how to crack this column I've been thinking about since August. You're gonna see the mega-version that makes this all makes sense, in the form of a two parter tying together a review of Serenity with an explanation of the popularity of (a) psych services at Columbia and (b) religious colleges. What ties them together? Oh I don't know...maybe it's the HUMAN CONDITION.

So yeah, it's gonna be one of those postings. Be there.

Backyard Music Log

2005-10-01T20:14:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in my room listening to student bands playing in my backyard. I'm tempted to watch them, but I think, since I don't feel like going out, I'll just make a running log of snide comments about them.

11:15: Soundcheck of Weezer's "Say It Ain't So." I couldn't think of four better words to describe the event.

11:16: They will play all covers and one original song, apparently. The original song should stand out, I think.

What's this? Sounds like the usual emo/pop-punk frat fare. Not familiar with the song--maybe it's the original. "We're going downtown," apparently.

They're not bad musicians. I can't say the same for their voices, though. But, of course, they're PUNKS.

11:20: Oh no! The worst song ever written is being covered. I mean, you should know what this is--"Mr. Brightside," of course. I mean, if I were in a band I'd try to cover good songs.

Crowd's digging it though, which usually happens when this song's played. I'll never understand it. I guess I don't like to have fun.

Oops! just went out of key for a few seconds. Nevertheless, they're doing well in terms of sticking with the recorded version.

11:23: Now apparently they're going to play the original songs. They're telling people to go to their band's facebook group. They want friend requests. I don't know what to say.

I think I have to go outside to see this one...

Actually one of the better songs. A lot rawer--don't know if that's intentional, but it's more humane nonetheless.

11:28: Well, they're capitalizing promises after all. Now we're getting the full version of "Say It Ain't So." I've probably heard this song 1 million times, between high school and Strikes' karaoke coming through my window. Sounds much like the karaoke version right now. Going off-tune a couple of times. That's fine.

11:32: Working the crowd. "When I snap, snap. When I clap, clap." As you wish.

What is this song? I feel like I've heard it before.

11:36: The crowd urges them to play one more song before "a good band comes on."

Again, can't think of the song's name.

Every week at 10:30, he says? Jesus, fuck.

Quote of the Day

2005-09-30T14:32:00.000-07:00

It takes shit like this to revive the "quote of the day":

"But I do know that it's true that if you wanted to reduce crime, you could, if that were your sole purpose, you could abort every black baby in this country, and your crime rate would go down," said [William] Bennett, author of "The Book of Virtues."

Read the full article [Washington Post]

Recent Media Things

2005-09-27T18:36:00.000-07:00

I promise to post more substantially this weekend. It's been something of a hectic past two weeks. But here are some things I've noticed on TV/internet/print recently.

1) I highly recommend Franklin Foer's buzzworthy article in this week's New Republic on the College Republicans' national convention. At the very least, it provides more reasons to hate Karl Rove.

2) David Grann's feature on "The Lost City of Z" in September 19's New Yorker is also delicious. It's like 24 magazine pages, so it takes 35 years to read. But you'll forget about the length as the characters develop.

3) This Thursday, read my review of Franz Ferdinand's new record in 34th Street. I hate them.

4) Neutral Milk Hotel is all over the place these days. In the Aeroplane over the Sea, which ranks alongside the Roman Empire, Hamlet and Kid A as the greatest achievements in human history, is being reissued in the UK via Domino Records, and Pitchfork appropriately gave it a 10.0 rating today. Also, on last week's O.C., the episode closed with a lame, phoned-in Matt Pond PA rendition of "In the Aeroplane over the Sea." Completely disgraceful--Josh Schwartz can do better. Finally, the 33 1/3 series book on Aeroplane comes out in October. Expect a full review of that shit.

5) George Bush + Katrina Speech = Magic Kingdom laser show? I know this is old news, but I haven't blogged about it yet. Deal.

See you this weekend...

This Thing Is Finally Paying Off

2005-09-24T19:25:00.000-07:00

Those of you who have ever talked to me - ever - know that I'm a gigantic Joss Whedon fan. And that' s not just because I'm physically huge - although I am 10 million feet tall - it's also because I think his television shows are the best television shows ever made. Those shows are Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, and Firefly. For those who feel the urge to make fun of me for liking a show called Buffy the Vampire Slayer, please kill yourself. When organizations as different as The American Prospect and The Weekly Standard can get behind a show, somebody must be doing something right. Specifically, Joss Whedon must be making the best television in history. Also, Thomas Hibbs , former chair of BC's philosophy department, and and Daniel Drezner, over at the University of Chicago, agree with me. So there.

Which brings me to the point, or at least closer to the point. Buffy and Angel both had long, relatively happy multi-season runs. True, Angel was cut tragically short and I still cry about that sometimes, but things could have been worse. They were, in fact, worse for Firefly, which lasted less than a season. I could, and possibly will, go on at length about why this happened, how awful it was, how I still cry about it sometimes, etc. But because he's awesome like that, Whedon didn't let his baby die. After insane amounts of work, he convinced Universal Studios to take a risk and bankroll a big-screen version of Firefly. This is something that shouldn't have happened, but it did. The movie is called Serenity, and it comes out this Friday.

The problem is that it may be unmarketable. I just did my best to persuade you, and it took two paragraphs, and if you haven't seen the show, it still probably didn't work. So, Universal is trying out new ways of building buzz. One of those new ways involves giving away tickets to an early showing of the movie to bloggers across the country. When I found out about this, it took me a second to realize that, nominally at least, I'm a blogger. So I sent in a link to the blog, and either because we're inherently awesome or because I sent it in really early, we were chosen, and I now have two tickets to see the movie on Wednesday. So a review is coming. I might cry.

If your interest has been piqued, learn more about the movie here:http://www.serenitymovie.com.

Or read this synopsis and imagine how it can be crafted into a compelling existential examination of morality in a godless world, both maintaining and subverting its genre elements: Joss Whedon, the OscarR - and Emmy - nominated writer/director responsible for the worldwide television phenomena of BUFFY THE VAMPIRE, ANGEL and FIREFLY, now applies his trademark compassion and wit to a small band of galactic outcasts 500 years in the future in his feature film directorial debut, Serenity. The film centers around Captain Malcolm Reynolds, a hardened veteran (on the losing side) of a galactic civil war, who now ekes out a living pulling off small crimes and transport-for-hire aboard his ship, Serenity. He leads a small, eclectic crew who are the closest thing he has left to family -squabbling, insubordinate and undyingly loyal.

Hey I'm Posting

2005-09-15T15:27:00.000-07:00

This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius, by which I mean me posting again. Herewith, the final version of College Stupidheads. Hurrah!

At colleges across the country, this is the golden age of campus conservatism. Whether described by the painfully awkward nomenclature of “South Park Conservative” or the somehow worse “Hipublican,” conservative college students have significant voices in important debates at a wide swath of college campuses – but not, of course, at Columbia.

The conservative movement here is, simply put, a joke. And not a good joke, like the one about the Rabbi and the parrot; more like a bad joke about John Kerry’s flip-flopping that involves actual flip-flops. They have gimmicky “affirmative action” bake sales that generate far more rhetorical heat than light, while antagonizing everyone who isn’t Mr. Burns. Many students perceive the College Republicans as obsessed with Israel to the detriment of, well, everything that’s not Israel. The president of the Columbia College Conservative Club is an avowed fascist. The only way for conservatives to make themselves more marginal at Columbia would be to… I can’t actually think of a way conservatives could make themselves more marginal at Columbia.

Making fun of these poor souls may seem tantamount to laughing at that kid who ate worms in third grade, except for the prominence of conservatives at all those other schools. As an article in The New York Times recently pointed out, numerous polls demonstrate that overall student opinion on a variety of issues, including abortion, sex before marriage, taxation, and gun control, has shifted to the right in the past ten years, as students with sepia toned images of Reagan from their youth replaced those with jaded memories of the ineptitude of Ford and Carter. The terrorist attacks of September 11 pushed many students further to the right, or at least against radical anti-war groups. Although the ongoing collapse of the Bush administration’s project in Iraq may reverse this trend, for now the national political terrain still provides campus conservatives with a strong platform from which to make their case.

Various right-wing groups have also made special efforts to, in the proud tradition of McDonalds and Phillip-Morris, hook potential consumers while they’re young. Money from institutions like the Intercollegiate Studies Institute flows to conservative college organizations, creating the appearance of grassroots support among students. Some distribute handbooks with useful advice for conservative students about how to relate to the kids of today. This advice can often run perilously close to “Dressing like a douchebag with an ascot and affecting a British accent will make everyone hate you. Don’t make everyone hate you.” Seeking to capitalize on the stereotype of youthful rebelliousness, many have portrayed campuses as domains of liberal hegemony, making conservatism a logical alternative for students looking for a way to quixotically rebel against The (College) Man.

More than anything else, though, today’s college conservatives owe a debt to a book written more than 50 years ago. In God and Man at Yale, William F Buckley Jr adumbrated the basic framework college conservatives have used ever since to promote their cause. Buckley, then a recent Yale graduate, later went on to found the America’s foremost conservative journal of opinion, The National Review. In the process, he became one of, if not the, the most important journalists in America. But he first rose to fame by riding the coattails of his alma mater, if “riding the coattails” can be used to mean attack viciously in a best-selling book. God and Man At Yale, the aforementioned vicious attack, situated its critique firmly within the author’s broader conservative ideology, but focused primarily on Buckley’s college experience.

In his book, Buckley developed a radically conservative critique of the academy with an intellectual rigor and stylish (if pompous) flair that puts today’s college conservatives to head-hanging shame. He rested his book on an attack of academic freedom, a trope just as sacred to academics of Buckley’s day as to ours. In the face of this overwhelming opposition, Buckley claimed that academic freedom has “never been practiced, and in fact, can never and ought never to be practiced.” Whether universities admit it or not, Buckley charged, they create cultures that limit the bounds of acceptable discussion. While his individual criticisms – such as when he defines socialists as those who support welfare programs, the inheritance tax, the income tax, and deficit spending – have not worn particularly well, but his analysis of academic freedom’s limits has.

At Columbia, the boundaries created by our culture leave conservatives somewhere in Siberia. When Ann Coulter came to campus following the 2000 election, activists shouted at her while she tried to speak, forcing her to leave. Learning from this, Columbia’s conservative organizations have since tried to bring prominent speakers like Ken Starr to campus under a veil of secrecy, so that they can actually here what the speaker says. Even apathetic students often mock them with juvenile attacks, like comparing them to “that kid who ate worms in third grade.”

In the face of this opposition, the willful marginalization of conservatives makes sense. It takes a kind of craziness to continually oppose such an overwhelming consensus. But, others have demonstrated that kind of craziness before. The implicit message of Buckley’s book should remind today’s conservatives that even if they may never win an argument, by boldly and intelligently making their case on issues crucial to college students actual lives, they can win themselves a stall in the marketplace of ideas. For all its impracticability, if the noble ideals behind academic freedom – namely, the importance of free speech – have any value, even those of us who don’t support their cause should wish them luck.

Hot Off the Press

2005-09-15T08:04:00.000-07:00

Today sees the release of 34th Street Magazine's first issue of the semester. You can read it in PDF if you can't access it in print. Or just read the shoddy online version. Look forward to lots of self-referential, pretentious jokes reinforced by fundamentally weak writing.

34th Street Magazine

Album Blurbing

2005-09-13T22:13:00.000-07:00

Now that the school year has restarted I don't have much time to write extended reviews anymore. Boo hoo. There will be some though. Anyways, I'm going to try to keep up with blurbs, Christgau consumer guide style. You just look at the grades anyway.

Sigur Ros
Takk...
Geffen
B+

Complain about the pseudo-overbearing earnestness of this one if you will, but it's the album SR needed to make right now. Although ( ) was a success, if left kind of a bad taste (it was pretentious, I mean to say) in our mouths. Takk... shows a transitional Sigur Ros that may be at a loss in terms of what direction to push their music in the future. It's hard to blame them though--their second album was any other experimental band's fourth. The quartet is at its best on the brass bandish "Se Lest" and the thumping "Saeglopur," but gives up ground with the monstrously overdone "Milano." The perfect album for me to cry tears of joy/sadness over.

Super Furry Animals
Love Kraft
XL/Beggar's Banquet
B-

Love Kraft doesn't disappoint on the grounds that it's sedentary--it's still a step forward for the band, only in the mature (bad?) sense. The potential is easily here for a late career masterpiece, like the Beach Boys' Surf's Up. They don't fully capitalize on the atmospheric, orchestral sound they're trying so diligently to capture. Single "Lazer Beam" is the standard SFA per-album throwaway, but it has some company. "Psyclone!" and "Back on a Roll" throw in the towel also. That said, "Cloudberries" and "Cabin Fever" are excellent additions to the already stacked SFA canon, and many others make a strong case for the club as well. The product just tries too hard and somehow remains undercooked. And this is coming from the guy who calls SFA THE most consistently good pop band of the last 10 years.

Silver Jews
Tanglewood Numbers
Drag City
C+

It KILLS to give this anything below an A, but Tanglewood Numbers is a fucking confusing album. I give credit to Berman for trying to eliminate the dated slacker sound and synthesize a full band structure, but it doesn't suit his lyrics. They have the same Dadaesque quality that made him a star in the '90s, but tight song structures don't seem to match up (and lines like "I love you to the max!" give me cancer). Sorry Berms--you're a victim of your own success. Thanks for trying though. Keep in touch.

More later, or something.

Awwwww, thanks Jim

2005-09-11T19:03:00.000-07:00

Wait, what was that about 9/11?

Birthday Party!

2005-09-10T18:08:00.000-07:00

As many of our thousands of daily readers know, today is co-blogger Tim's birthday. He turns somewhere between 18 and 26. Happy birthday Tim. I'm sorry this had to come over the internet rather than, say, the phone.

Four years ago today, Tim was celebrating his birthday, most likely with cake and punch. The next day, planes hit the World Trade Center. WHO KNEW?

Still too soon?

Quote of the Day

2005-09-10T11:53:00.000-07:00

"I'm going to go home and walk my dog and hug my wife, and maybe get a good Mexican meal and a stiff margarita and a full night's sleep. And then I'm going to go right back to FEMA and continue to do all I can to help these victims." - Mike Brown, the FEMA head who was fired-but-not-really yesterday

Sing Me Hopelandic (Anti?) Pop!

2005-09-10T09:45:00.000-07:00

Sigur Ros @ Tower Theatre, Philadelphia, 9/9.

OK, first thing first, this is not a review of Sigur Ros' new album, Takk..., set to hit shelves Tuesday. I'll write that tomorrow or something. Maybe. Let's just say it's good for now.

So me and the Becsinator done got us some Ros last night and transcended certain levels of existence, I've decided. I had been to the venue one other time a couple of years ago and enjoyed it wholeheartedly, but I don't think I got the full story that time. This place is Philly's Radio City. The structure comes across as very burlesque and, well, large. The tickets do not come as general admission, so we were pretty far in the back, but had a straight view. I felt like I was about to see the world premiere of Citizen Kane or the Producers' first run in Philly. I'm not used to/don't care for nice places, but it fit in well with this pseudo-classical band we were seeing.

The band came on before a large smokescreen. Jack raised a good point in questioning whether they'd lift the screen all night--I mean, is this band really meant to be seen clearly? But after the first two songs (the first two from Takk...) the screen was lifted to thunderous applause and a full... so... full... version of "Svefn-g-englar," the second track from Fetus. Now that there's a hell of a song, but I don't think it worked too well live--the group seemed a bit unsure of themselves at first and a little more rockin' would've gotten the juices flowing a better. But anyways.

Oh, I should explain why I said Fetus. Sigur Ros has 4 albums, Von, Agaetis Byrjin, ( ), and Takk... The middle two, at least for middle class America, are impossible to pronounce for one reason or another. AB has a picture of an alien fetus on its cover (and what a cover it is!), so that record is now known as Fetus, at least in parlor talk. ( ) is, of course, called Parentheses, or the not-into-the-whole-brevity-thing Open Parenthesis Closed Parenthesis. So, yeah.

The group played several other songs from the new record, including "Saeglopur" and "Gong." The most noticeable change on these tracks comes with the heightened drum section. This drummer can POUND, and in a totally non-sexual way. I'll say more on that later.

We were also fortunate enough to hear two of their best non-Takk... tracks, "Untitled 3" from Parentheses and "Viorar vel til loftarasa." (I'm missing all kinds of accents here, but deal). The former, which the crowd went berserk for, is the atmospheric 6-minute piano loop that subtly builds to a stunningly grandiose ending. Goosebumps, check. The latter builds less discreetly to a fully-orchestrated (well, a 5-piece string arrangement at least) enslaught. Both. Tracks. Kill.

So right 'round this here part, the Ros left the stage for the end of the pre-encore set. Then they came back and blew us away.

Folks, this was far and away the best encore I have ever seen at a live show, and one of the best live moments period. And I didn't (and still don't) even know the song!

They started off playing a fairly straight-forward, Takk...-sounding cut with mild amounts of rock-outingness. (Maybe it was from Von? Things are occuring to me now...). After about 5 minutes o' that, the smoke screen lowered and the real fun began.

How can I explain this? There were three lighting arrangements, I think. One came from behind the band and reflected against the smoke screen, enlarging the group. Another came from in front and projected behind them, making them smaller. And another just showed them as they were. Silhouettes, all. Then they rapidly rotated between angles, filtered in some trippy-ass graphics along with it, and voila, visual sex.

And the music! After the fully formed, "Whatever Song They Played" they broke down into parts, first giving way to the drummer, who is, as stated earlier, a madman. His arms where flailing and the bass drum was thumping. I could've listened to that for hours, but I just got minutes. He took it down a notch and gave way to the bass player, who'd been a relatively latent part of the show until that point. But he stole the limelight here and chugged through a killer line. (At this point, by the way, people were fucking silent). Then EVERYONE in the band went nuts--the violinists fiercely attacked their strings, the guitarists, keyboardists and bass player followed in suit and the drummer returned to madness. They went for minutes, and finally just stopped.

I have never heard such a roar during a show as they got following this one (except, maybe, for when Thom Yorke sang "Bring down the government, they don't speak for us" during "No Surprises"). They came out for two curtain calls. Becsey and I were hootin' and hollerin' for 15 minutes, solid. Gorgeous.

So yes, it was wonderful evening in the right venue. They maybe took a few songs to hit their stride, and the acoustics weren't fabulous, but, well, it was Sigur Ros. Live. What else could you want?

College Stupidheads

2005-09-07T22:07:00.000-07:00

the first part of my ass-kicking of college republicans:

At colleges across the country, it is the golden age of campus conservatism. Whether described by the painfully awkward nomenclature of “South Park Conservative” or the somehow worse “Hipublican,” conservative college students have significant voices in important debates at a wide swath of college campuses – but not, of course, at Columbia.

The conservative movement here is, simply put, a joke. And not a good joke, like the one about the Rabbi and the parrot; more like a bad joke about John Kerry’s flip-flopping that involves actual flip-flops. They have gimmicky “affirmative action” bake sales that generate far more rhetorical heat than light, while antagonizing every non-upper-middle-class white male within shouting distance. Many students see the College Republicans as obsessed with Israel to the detriment of, well, everything that’s not Israel. The president of the Columbia College Conservative Club is an avowed fascist. The only way for conservatives to make themselves more marginal at Columbia would be to… I can’t actually think of a way conservatives could make themselves more marginal at Columbia.

Making fun of these poor souls may seem tantamount to laughing at that kid who ate worms in third grade, except for the prominence of conservatives at all those other schools. Numerous polls demonstrate that overall student opinion on a variety of issues, including abortion, sex before marriage, taxation, and gun control, has shifted to the right in the past ten years, as students with sepia toned images of Reagan from their youth replaced those with jaded memories of the ineptitude of Ford and Carter. The terrorist attacks of September 11 pushed many students further to the right, or at least against radical anti-war groups. Although the ongoing collapse of the Bush administration’s project in Iraq may reverse this trend, for now the national political terrain still provides campus conservatives with a strong platform from which to make their case.

Various right-wing groups have also made special efforts to, in the proud tradition of McDonalds and Phillip-Morris, hook potential consumers while they’re young. Money from institutions like the Intercollegiate Studies Institute flows to conservative college organizations, creating the appearance of grassroots support among students. Some distribute handbooks with useful advice about how to relate to the kids of today. This advice can often run perilously close to “Dressing like a douchebag with an ascot and affecting a British accent will make everyone hate you. Don’t do that.” Seeking to capitalize on the stereotype of youthful rebelliousness, many have portrayed campuses as domains of liberal hegemony, making conservatism a logical alternative for students looking for a way to quixotically rebel against The (College) Man.

A Word on Jackass Cooper

2005-09-03T14:03:00.000-07:00

Anderson Cooper's notorious outburst at Louisiana Senator Mary Landrieu the other day was disgraceful. To quote Coop:

"Excuse me, Senator, I'm sorry for interrupting. I haven't heard that, because, for the last four days, I've been seeing dead bodies in the streets here in Mississippi. And to listen to politicians thanking each other and complimenting each other, you know, I got to tell you, there are a lot of people here who are very upset, and very angry, and very frustrated.

"And when they hear politicians slap—you know, thanking one another, it just, you know, it kind of cuts them the wrong way right now, because literally there was a body on the streets of this town yesterday being eaten by rats because this woman had been laying in the street for 48 hours. And there's not enough facilities to take her up. "

Fire him. What, you're not sure? No, seriously, fire him.

He said this in response to Landrieu's announcement that a $10.5 billion aid bill had just been passed in Congress to help the victims of Katrina. His shameful grab for moral high ground is one of the worst, most hypocritical outbursts of the constantly irritating cable news networks. Maybe Landrieu hadn't been looking at dead bodies all day, but she had been doing her best to alleviate the problem. I'm sure she was well aware of the situation Cooper had so, so self-sacrificially placed himself in.

Oh, what a martyr this guy is. He goes to New Orleans, sees some dead bodies and becomes the spokesman for those he would never considering inviting to his home.

If you want to help the people, then help them. Don't make a crude attempt at grabbing attention to forward your limited rise in the business.

Everything is Terrible, Pt. 1: The Economy

2005-09-03T12:21:00.000-07:00

It was just August 1 that I filled my car with $2.40/gallon gas. My mother scowled at this ("You could've just gone to the next gas station and not been completely ripped off."), which seems incomprehensible at the moment. When I last filled my tank, around August 28, the price had risen to $2.70 and showed no sign of going down. I'd be paying $3.00+ now. I'm certainly glad to not have my car at the moment, but at the same time, I could care less about gas prices. Post-Katrina, this inconvenience we complained about so frequently as the summer labored on is less than minor--it's expected, institutionalized and, quite frankly, fine. We can still drive, after all.

The U.S. economy is suffering from the same complaint we usually lay on other sluggish Western economies (Germany, Japan)--weak fundamentals. The ways in which it recovered from the most recent recession are beginning to crumble. Housing (purchasing and constructing), which studies have shown to be crucial in the ongoing recovery, is about to break. The bursting of the bubble, which Alan Greenspan still fails to recognize but has recently upgraded to a "condundrum," appears to be taking shape. The construction of new homes went down in July for the first time in recent memory, and although its year over year average is still at a record high, that record may not inch up much further. Hopefully, now that interest rates are slowly but surely back on the rise, the bubble can avoid a full-on blast and the air can be gradually siphoned out. With marginally irresponsible mortgages being handed out like candy to young couples that couldn't afford these houses in years past, a sharp decline in home values would create a monstrous crisis among up-and-goers whose insatiable consumerism would somehow, someway, have to curtail.

Katrina's potential damage to commerce seems to be the climax to a gathering storm: we're headed towards a recession. Perhaps the Fed should halt the hikes and let some liquidity keep things flowing through the rest of the year. But with energy prices sure to take their toll in the winter months and gas prices going nowhere but up, inflation is certainly more of a threat than recent years. Of course I have no idea. I just hope Greenspan does, because in the twilight of his career, he may be facing the most challenging puzzle of all.

Quotes of the Day - Kanye lashes, Facebook kills itself

2005-09-03T10:54:00.000-07:00

"We're launching a high school version of Facebook" - Facebook.com

""George Bush doesn't care about black people... I hate the way they portray us in the media. If you see a black family, it says they're looting. See a white family, it says they're looking for food." - Kanye West, on NBC's Katrina relief telethon Friday night.

Victory Lap

2005-09-02T21:43:00.000-07:00

But before I do that, a brief recap of how Hungry has already changed the world for the better.

Thursday, August 30 - Hungry:
"Because, despite his undeniably massive accomplishments, Sachs does not teach undergraduates in the strictest sense of the word. In fact, he doesn’t teach undergraduates in any sense of the word, unless one takes teach to mean “give occasional lectures open to the Columbia community which undergraduates may attend if they find out about them in time.” Since coming to Columbia, Sachs hasn’t taught one course available to a broad array of undergraduates...Jeffrey Sachs really has done many, many good things in his life. It’s too bad that teaching undergraduates at Columbia hasn’t been one of them."

Friday, August 31st - e-mail to Columbia students:
SDEV W3300x The challenge of Sustainable Development; 3 pts;
"Instructor: Jeffrey Sachs. Lecture and discussion. An introduction to the interdisciplinary field of sustainable development, drawing on the most recent developments in social and physical sciences. Describes the interactions between physical ecology and economic development and stresses the ways in which they impact each other. Aims to provide students with an understanding of the ecological bases of human settlement and economic development."

Sadly, the class is scheduled for M-W-F at 8:45-10:00 AM. Still, for any who doubted, there is now definitive proof that this blog controls the future. Also, I own Jeffrey Sachs like a motherfucker, which means I own him a lot.

Also, I'd like to announce that it's a real shame that nobody has yet given me my own island as a present. And that my birthday is on September 10th.

So Very Tired

2005-09-02T21:37:00.000-07:00

For me at least, these next couple of days will be not-un-so-busy-I'll-want-to-kill-myself-and-,-let's-be-honest-here-,-probably-others. Ahh, some gags never get old. Anyway, my blogging will be more sporadic for the next few days, but after that it will return stronger and more protein filled than ever. Also, no carbs, unless carbs are good now, in which case, there will be lots of carbs. Anyway, to tide you guys over, here are three possibilities for future bloggery, at least two of which will happen:

Tim vs The Lameness of Columbai College Conservatives (I lied about getting my column stuff done this week. But it will be over soon. I promise.)
Tim vs God (Since at least one of us doesn't exist, the fight should be pretty awesome.)
Buried Treasure (Who will find it? PERHAPS YOU!)

More Columbia Stuff

2005-09-01T19:31:00.000-07:00

Because I'm thinking out loud for my column next semester, and by Saturday-ish I should be done, so shut up. Also...

Last summer, I was punched in the face for the first time, and I didn’t see it coming. Granted, the punch came from a fourteen year old who couldn’t have topped 5 and a half feet, so it was under the range of my vision. Luckily, the punch had strength proportionate to the kid’s height, so my pride suffered the most damage. That’s the good part about getting punched by a fourteen-year-old kid.
The bad part, of course, comes from having a fourteen-year-old kid want to punch you at all. Around ten o’clock at night, I was sitting around the sundial across from Low Library with three other Columbia students. Since I’m a gigantic nerd, I was in the middle of a conversation about different professors at Columbia and their work on race as a social construct. About five teenagers – one of whom would punch me in the face in a few minutes – came up to us while we were talking and began shouting obscenities at us. As anyone who has ever come into contact with one first hand can attest, the teenage boy may very well be the most obnoxious creature in the world, and these boys were living up to that reputation. They harassed all of us, but the one girl in our group received the brunt of their attention and comments, none of which I feel comfortable repeating in something my Mom could read. (On a related note, hi Mom!)
Assuming that they would go away if we ignored them long enough, we tried to act as if nothing had changed. Instead, the kids’ yells became louder and more aggressive. Eventually, one of us stood up to ask them to go. He became the center of attention, with all the kids circling around him. Even though I’m a pitiful weakling, the kid’s were too, so I got up to provide support. That’s when one of them punched me. He did it again, and again, and again. It didn’t hurt, I didn’t want to punch back, and I didn’t know what to do, so I didn’t do anything except look at the kid and see how much he hated me. Seeing that neither of us would respond, all of the kids left. None of this made for a particularly pleasant evening. This is what made a bad situation truly painful: all of the kids, but none of the Columbia students, were African American.
Being a stereotypical Ivy League, wannabe professor-in-training, the day after the confrontation, I walked to Labyrinth and went to the Cornel West entry in the African-American Studies section. West, formerly of Princeton, then Harvard, then Princeton again, although very controversial, is probably the most prominent African-American scholar in America today. In one of his books, Race Matters, I found what I was looking for – an explanation for why a fourteen year old would want to punch me, even before I had a chance to be a jerk to him.
West asserts that a kind of nihilism, although not one Nietzsche may have immediately recognized, dominates the lives of urban African-American poor. Although nihilism has always been a threat, West argues that, for a variety of reasons, it has gained a particular power in the last thirty years. In a telling example, he notes that whereas before the 1970s African Americans had the lowest suicide rate in America, in the past thirty years suicide among young African Americans has increased more than any other group. West attributes this to “a profound sense of psychological depression, personal worthlessness, and social despair,” which characterize a nihilism that comes from “the lived experience of coping with a life of horrifying meaninglessness, hopelessness, and (most important) lovelesness.” This “breeds a coldhearted, mean-spirited outlook that destroys both the individual and others.” And leads to me getting punched in the face. More importantly, it could lead to the same thing happening to Columbia, at least metaphorically, in the near future.
The kids who came up to us were almost certainly from Morningside Heights, also known as the area that Columbia wants to take over so that it can build labs to study slime molds or something. If West is right and his understanding of nihilism is now the dominant attitude of African American urban life, then expansion may be even more difficult than Columbia has anticipated. Convincing people to leave their homes is difficult; convincing them to overcome an overpowering, nihilistic rage so that financial discussions can even began is probably harder. And my finely honed intuition tells me that Lee Bollinger and Robert Kasdan, the man in charge of the expansion project, have more experience with the former than the latter.
Even if Columbia convinces the government to use eminent domain to seize private property, widespread nihilism could make their victory pyrrhic. The next time racial tensions climb to a fevered pitch in New York, Columbia could very likely become target. Nobody can predict what people who continue to live mostly out of habit would do in a situation like that, but the results could be a lot worse than a punch in the face.

What About Iraq?

2005-08-31T17:28:00.000-07:00

The newsmedia has been exerted tremendous energy covering Hurricane Katrina during the last few days. It's certainly for good measure, don't get me wrong--although the "this is our tsunami" and "this looks like Hiroshima" comments from ranking public officials are a bit offensive. But another huge news story has gone largely overlooked.

Today in Baghdad, more than 950 (at the latest count) Shiites were trampled and suffocated to death on a bridge. The frenzy was caused by a suicide bomb threat someone shouted out. Many even drowned in the Tigris after jumping for their lives. It was "by far the greatest one-day loss of life since the American invasion in March 2003." (NYT)

While it's somewhat isolated from the conflict at large, it demonstrated a couple of things. First, the Sunni exclusion from the final draft of the recently established constitution has only embittered that minority (and the insurgents as a whole), who were finally hinting at engaging in the construction of a new state. Second, although they're a minority, the insurgents are very good at using their numbers to an advantage. Hysteria doesn't take an army to work effectively.

So while we must keep our thoughts with those affected by Katrina, we can't ignore Iraq at such a crucial and tumultuous time. But then again, maybe we're just sick of hearing about it altogether.

Republicans are Scary, Democrats are Lame-o

2005-08-31T15:23:00.000-07:00

Thank you, Frank Rich.

In his Sunday column this past week, Frank Rich became one of the first NYT columnists during this disastrous August in Iraq to present both sides of the story. He chided President Bush for all the obvious reasons--but you can read 5,000 words of that shit per day in the Times (and it's all right, each time!). But anyone who thinks the Democrats are completely blameless in this lowest of lows are fooling themselves.

"The Democrats are hoping that if they do nothing, they might inherit the earth as the Bush administration goes down the tubes. Whatever the dubious merits of this Kerryesque course as a political strategy, as a moral strategy it's unpatriotic. The earth may not be worth inheriting if Iraq continues to sabotage America's ability to take on Iran and North Korea, let alone Al Qaeda.

"As another politician from the Vietnam era, Gary Hart, observed last week, the Democrats are too cowardly to admit they made a mistake three years ago, when fear of midterm elections drove them to surrender to the administration's rushed and manipulative Iraq-war sales pitch. So now they are compounding the original error as the same hucksters frantically try to repackage the old damaged goods."

Perhaps he's exaggerating the nearly-unanimous consent the Senate gave President Bush three years ago--Senate Dems were also lied to, dare we forget. But we'd be fools to think the midterm elections had nothing to do with the vote (and look how well that's turned out). And how have Democrats made up for their mistakes? Well, they... I mean they... hmm. Hopefully some recently active Senators like Russ Feingold can jumpstart a wave of ideas soon--it's certainly needed--because whoever can solve the Iraq puzzle will win the country.

President Bush orchestrated, manipulated and pulled the trigger for the Iraq war. Of course, the ultimate blame lays directly on him. But it's time for Democrats to take the upper hand--ord'nary folk like Cindy Sheehan can't carry the load on their own.

Jeffrey Sachs: The Sweet...

2005-08-30T22:06:00.000-07:00

Jeffrey Sachs has done many, many good things in his life.
First off, he got into Harvard. Then, in 1976, he graduated summa cum laude. Then, in 1980, he received a doctorate in economics from the same institution. The same year he earned his doctorate, he became a professor, again at the only school in the world whose name rhymes with “Shmarvard.” By 1983 he had become a full professor, making him the youngest person to receive tenure in Harvard’s history. He’s a very smart guy.
But, all this served to prepare him for the much more important work he would soon do. Beginning in 1985, Sachs played a crucial role in forming economic policy for a variety of countries around the world. With the thawing of the Cold War, many formerly communist countries faced the challenge of how to move their economies toward capitalism without destroying them in the process. Sometimes – as occurred with Poland – Sach’s advice helped work near miracles. Other times – as occurred with Russia – it didn’t. Regardless of the consequences, Sachs’s celebrity continued to rise.
Now closely tied with the UN and Kofi Annan, he played a key role in the development of the “Millennium Declaration,” which outlines several goals and targets for global economic development. Lately, he has emerged as a spokesperson for African aid and debt relief, arguing that, despite the less-than-not-evil character of many of the continents regimes, foreign assistance can play a crucial role in saving millions of lives. To promote awareness of the reality of global poverty and ways to address it, he recently released a book with the felicitous title “The End of Poverty: Economic Possibilities for Our Time.” It was excerpted in Time magazine, (which, by the way, named him one of the 100 most influential leaders in the world) where it ran as the cover story. Bono, of U2 fame, wrote the book’s quasi-comprehensible introduction.
By the way, he also teaches at Columbia. And it’s not because he confused it with Colombia. In 2002, after intensive lobbying and the offer of what is rumored to be a very lucrative contract, Sachs agreed to leave Harvard to head Columbia’s Earth Institute. There, Sachs has helped lead the institute in developing interdisciplinary approaches to the type of global problems that attracted him in his economic work. Columbia’s then president, George Rupp, averred that Sachs was “one of the world’s most important international economists.” Lee Bollinger called him “a major public intellectual, in the best sense.” Then provost Jonathan Cole may have won the coveted award for most extravagant sucking up to someone you’ve just hired in the history of the world when he declared: “[Sachs] may be the ideal type of 21st century professor.”

...and The Sour

2005-08-30T22:04:00.000-07:00

If this is the case, then undergraduates in the 21st century are in a lot of trouble. Because, despite his undeniably massive accomplishments, Sachs does not teach undergraduates in the strictest sense of the word. In fact, he doesn’t teach undergraduates in any sense of the word, unless one takes teach to mean “give occasional lectures open to the Columbia community which undergraduates may attend if they find out about them in time.” Since coming to Columbia, Sachs hasn’t taught one course available to a broad array of undergraduates. The lectures, like most of Sachs’s work, are compelling, informative, and insightful. At one of these speeches last year, the student who introduced him claimed that after listening to Sachs, he had a Road-to-Damascus experience, except about global interconnectivity, not Jesus. But it’s an experience he could have had by picking up Sachs’s latest book, available at major bookstores across the United States.
Many Columbia professors say that one of the great joys of their job comes from knowing that they are shaping the future leaders of the world. Jeffrey Sachs can shape the leaders of today. In light of that, his actions are understandable, maybe even praiseworthy. Every second he spends explaining supply and demand to a blockheaded student in his lecture is a second he could have spent lobbying for aid to help the 1 billion people who live on less than a dollar a day and don’t know where their next meal will come from. If that’s the case, however, then maybe he shouldn’t be “teaching” at Columbia at all.
Sachs certainly isn’t the only mega-star professor to claim residency at Columbia without ever coming into contact with undergraduates – Brain Green and Simon Schama, I’m looking in your directions. But, in a particularly vivid way, his work raises fundamental questions about what Columbia – even, the academy in general – is and should be. Sachs is probably the most famous person associated with Columbia today. He raises awareness of the University through his actions on behalf of one of the most praiseworthy causes in the modern world. Yet for all that, with the money Columbia has lavished on him, several professors could have been hired who could have made a major difference in undergraduates lives. The cost-benefit analysis is far from precise – but it is clearly not wholly on the side of Columbia students.
Jeffrey Sachs really has done many, many good things in his life. It’s too bad that teaching undergraduates at Columbia hasn’t been one of them.

Quote of the Day

2005-08-30T15:42:00.000-07:00

In honor of everyone who has moved, is moving, or will move to college in the near past/present/future.

The station wagons arrived at noon, a long shining line that coursed through the west campus. In single file they eased around the orange I-beam sculpture and moved toward the dormitories. The roofs of the station wagons were loaded down with carefully secured suitcases full of light and heavy clothing; with boxes of blankets, boots and shoes, stationery and books, sheets, pillows, quilts; with rolled-up rugs and sleeping bags; with bicycles, skis, rucksacks, English and Western saddles, inflated rafts. As cars slowed to a crawl and stopped, students sprang out and raced to the rear doors to begin removing the objects inside; the stereo sets, radios, personal computers; small refrigerators and table ranges; the cartons of phonograph records and cassettes; the hairdryers and styling irons; the tennis rackets, soccer balls, hockey and lacrosse sticks, bows and arrows; the controlled substances, the birth control pills and devices; the junk food still in shopping bags—onion-and-garlic chips, nacho thins, peanut creme patties, Waffelos and Kabooms, fruit chews and toffee popcorn: the Dum-Dum pops, the Mystic mints.

I’ve witnessed this spectacle every September for twenty-one years. It is a brilliant event, invariably. The students greet each other with comic cries and gestures of sodden collapse. Their summer has been bloated with criminal pleasures, as always. The parents stand sun-dazed near their automobiles, seeing images of themselves in every direction. The conscientious suntans. The well-made faces and wry looks. They feel a sense of renewal, of communal recognition. The women crisp and alert, in diet trim, knowing people’s names. Their husbands content to measure out the time, distant but ungrudging, accomplished in parenthood, something about them suggesting massive insurance coverage. This assembly of station wagons, as much as anything they might do in the course of the year, more than formal liturgies or laws, tells the parents they are a collection of the like-minded and the spiritually akin, a people, a nation. - Don Dellilo, White Noise

Best. Interview. Ever.

2005-08-29T16:42:00.000-07:00

Obscure 18th Century American Political Journalist, Cato, the Honest Farmer, interviews Cindy Sheehan.

Q: Madame Fheehan, what if your confidered judgment of that iffue judged to be of paramount import to dogmatic philofophef af much af our learned clerify – the ever increasing encroachment of the LEVIATHAN?

A: Um… I’m sorry, I don’t understand. And you confused your “f’s” with “s’s.”

Q: Forry. Prithee, sorry. The question concerns the subversion of the antitent state of our country, making a revolution of sovereignty which, prima fonte, by declaration of the tyranny of reason, threatens our oeconomy, constitution, and commonweal, perhaps leading to an agrarian revolt and return to a state of nature, viz Shay’s Rebellion.

A: Yeah, I still don’t get it. Also, none of that was a question.

Q: Moving on. I understand thou hast recently entangled thyself with issues concerning WAR in the land of Mohammedan. But, as the learned Thomas Hutchinson hath noted, what of the possible connexion between this race and the mystic Hindoo?

A: My main point is that this war –

Q: As the eminent Thomas Jefferson has observed “It should be our endeavour to cultivate the peace and friendship of every nation, even of that which has injured us most, when we shall have carried our point against her.”

A: I think his point even makes sense for today. But I also –

Q: And yet, how can we avoid such crossing of the lances, when we continue to maintain entangling alliances, along with the Scylla of a standing army, and the Charybdis of a foolish and wicked naval fleet? Has the dread torment of the Barbary pirates failed to educate us on this point?

A: I think I should go.

Q: But not until our most important point has been difcuffed. How has your individual education sharpened the senses, formed the temper, and regulated the passion so as to overcome the intoxicating regal homage that make of the majority of women no more than a common aristocrat? Is it, as the learned doctors of medicine declaim, a distemper of the humors? Do you have an excess of the spleen?

A: Bush is a terrorist.

Hungry's Epic Review of Kanye West's Epic Epic. Big.

2005-08-29T10:43:00.000-07:00

Kanye West
Late Registration
Roc-a-fella/Def Jam
A-/A

It's almost too tempting to write this review as an extended school metaphor. Many other sites have done this for both of Kanye's albums, no doubt laughing self-assuredly at their nerd-on-nerd jests while simulaneously feeling hip enough to be writing an in-depth rap review to begin with. In the suddenly fortified industry of Kanye West, the suburban geeks have awkwardly taken their place alongside the suburban frat boys and wiggers as hip hop experts. Oh Kanye--you make us all so fucking self-conscious. Keep going.

The key to understanding Kanye West came on "All Falls Down," the brilliant single from last year's landmark debut, College Dropout. Quoth: "We all self-conscious, I'm just the first to admit it." His insecurity is completely endearing. It makes him a predictable character, but don't take that the wrong way: all predictions are not one-dimensional. West lays all the cards before us--his fears, self-esteem issues, pride, background, ambitions. He wants to change popular music, but worries he cannot. He wants to be a thug, but sweats at every utterance "nigga," a slur most rappers use as a fourth article. He was blessed with middle class parentage; but despite his overwhelming gratitude towards his mother, especially, he probably views it as a personal ghetto from which he'll spend the rest of his life escaping.

According to Time's current (and surprisingly good) cover story on West, one night, after a long day in the studio with Late Registration's co-producer, PT Anderson's wet dream himself, Jon Brion, West laid it all out on the table. "You know that saying you can't be all things to all people?" he told Brion. "Well seriously, why not? I want to be all things to all people." He comes quite close on Late Registration. He's the international asshole, the loving (grand)child, the Cris-poppin' gangsta, the outspoken critic of the Cris-poppin' gangsta lifestyle, the political activist, the white guy, the black guy, the God-fearing Puritan and the star struck with his own success. He's the best friend we never had, and the most engrossing figure in pop music today. Once he delivers newspapers every morning and founds a colony of Yetis in the Arctic, he should have all his bases covered.

You probably think this here review is shaping up to be the most wacktastic puff piece since that little number Pitchfork put on Kid A. But look at the above rating. Yes, Late Registration has flaws. In fact, there's enough criticizable shit in here to hole me up in a cynic's bunker for a five-year tour of duty.

But we'll get to that later.

The album kicks off, just as it did on College Dropout, with a short Bernie Mac skit. I don't care what people say--Bernie Mac is funny. He laughs at Kanye's follow-up, a post-Nate Six Feet Undering of West's thinly-veiled qualms, calling him a "fourth grader" and telling him that he "ain't doin' nothin'" with his life. The latter is surely a criticism West heard not a few times trying to get a record deal.

The intro flows smoothly into the first song, "Heard 'Em Say," a ridiculous triumph by nearly every standard. Adam Levine (of the awful, really awful Maroon 5) lends his vocals on this ominously building, subdued, tense cut, and sounds terrific. Soulful and willing to take a backseat, Levine's worthy performance is one of the most rewarding risks on a record full of them. West's syrupy flow on this track is not to be underestimated either; he deftly flattens his intense delivery and sets the tone for the emotionally complex ride we're about to experience. And when he croons "the Devil's alive, I feel him breathin'," the line's gravitas gets the goosebumps a-growin'.

The next two songs, which also rank among LR's best, lighten the mood a little bit. "Touch the Sky," which HEAVILY samples that song from the end of Bend it Like Beckham, is easy to dismiss as a victory lap in a half-full stadium--a one-man circle jerk reminiscent of Jay-Z's Black Album. His lyrics are more provocative than expected, however, with such gems as "I'm tryna right my wrongs/ but it's funny, them same wrongs helped me write this song." The following cut, "Gold Digger," is easily the most witty song on the album. It samples Ray Charles' "I Got a Woman" more effectively than anyone could've hoped, with Jamie Foxx milking his master's muse one last (?) time for good measure. The track urges women to look past a man's wallet when looking for a beau, but is most memorable for its humor ("we want pre-nup! We want pre-nup!) and simple pleasure ("Git down girl, go 'head, git down"). What a rollicking good time! (For better or worse, there's no irony in that comment).

After "Diggers," West begins his potshot segment of the album, subtly (or not at all) rapping other rappers for their mixed messages and ill-conceived lifestyles. On "Drive Slow," with as per usual stellar production, West and guest Paul Wall parody the new money lifestyle, saying "My car's like the crib/ I got more TV's in here than where I live/ and that don't make no sense but baby girl I'm the shit." A more aggressive approach to the same point comes on "Crack Music," perhap's the album's dark horse candidate for best song. Over a pounding drumkit, he and the Game's self-parodied chorus wastes no time getting up in your grill: "Crack music, nigga/ Real black music, nigga." The intensity grows throughout the track, the ending of which may be the most inspired, unique moment on the entire album. The beat disappears and dissonant voices murmur in the background, all allowing Kanye to find catharsis in a stream of white noise. Kudos to Pitchfork's Sean Fennessey, whose choice of the word "biblical" to describe this closure wins Adjective Placement of the Year at my imaginary critics' awards show.

Other highlights in this area of the album are "My Way Home" and "Diamonds of the Sierra Leone (Remix)." The former doesn't do much production-wise, but it's always a pleasure to hear Common's earthy flow. The latter serves as a stark improvement to the track's original version, as it cuts the griping and features the president himself, Jay-Z. I'm still not sure why critics allow Jay-Z to get away with what he gets away with, however--whenever he finds time to escape his retirement for a guest spot, he completely disrupts the theme of the song and raps about himself, his problems, his greatness, etc. That smug bastard--God, I love him.

Towards the end of the album, West finally reveals the principle muse for this album: Stevie Wonder's Songs in the Key of Life. The revelation makes sense of it all--he's trying to change pop music in much the same way. On the otherwise hollow track "Celebration," he's not ashamed to work in the very same instruments Wonder used on classics like "Sir Duke" or "Isn't She Lovely." And, as you would expect with West's touch, it sounds gorgeous.

The other two members of the Stevie Wonder trio, "We Major" and "Gone," serve indiscreetly as the pillars of the album. The first of these has been much blogged, both for it's shocking inclusion of Nas and it's quasi-overproduction. Enough of that: it's the strangest rap song I've ever heard. The strings and synth (Brion and West, respectively) are at their most direct, chugging through seven minutes without a breath to spare. Overdone or not, the track proves to be so debatable that its overarching merits or failures are almost beside the point. The counterpart "Gone," on the other hand, is an indisputable triumph and my favorite track on the album. It samples Otis Redding, keeping with the old people theme of the album, and features Kanye's best delivery on either of his records. Also, Cam'ron waxing dirty over baroque strings proves to be a fine, fine touch.

So what's wrong?

Like College Dropout, Late Registration is long--70+ minutes. While in the scheme of things they don't take up much time, the four skits (excluding Bernie Mac's intro) that chronicle West's "Broke Phi Broke" fraternity seem to be nothing more than gripes. It's hard to tell whether they're meant to be funny or not, but the conclusion is indisputable. And, in the scheme of the album, they disrupt West's vision. Take a page from Jay-Z's experiences: less skits = more respect.

Several tracks don't work, either. The most obvious of these appears to be "Bring Me Down." While Brandy sounds fine, West doesn't give her much to work with. The production, in a rare misstep, is glossy enough to slip on. Other songs reveal West's insurmountable shortcomings as an emcee. On "Addiction," which isn't a complete failure, his beacon becomes the line "why does everything that feels so good make me feel so bad?" If only he'd stayed in college a little longer. Finally, "Hey Mama" doesn't differentiate a lot from the standard "Ode to Mom" spittle coming out twelve times a day from rappers. It frustrates in a unique way, also--he reminisces of the days when his mother, a recently retired English department head at Chicago State, had to work multiple jobs to pay the bills. Complain to your less fortunate rapper friends, Kanye, and see how that goes over.

I used to have a very crude system for rating albums, circa 1999 or so. If 75 percent of the tracks were good, that was a four star album, 50 percent would be three, and so forth. Please don't question my math, as I'm going to question Kanye's:

21 tracks
- 4 skits
- 3 duds
- 1 unnecessary remix (actually the original, but nevermind)
___
=13 worthwhile tracks = 61.9% special goodness

I've since abandoned this system, as I have most aspects of my awkward middle-of-adolescence years. Nevertheless, this album scores only a 3.1 on the scale. There's a lot to be learned from this, Mr. West. Well, only one thing: cut the fat.

So you've been reading this review and undoubtedly are griping about several of the following: a) it's longwinded b) it's smug c) it presumes way too much d) it can be a lot better. You're also, hopefully, thinking this: e) I like Jim. He's a good guy. I like what he tries to do with this review, it shows he really cares about this album. I'll overlook the ridiculous flaws and incorporate them into a more fully-formed vision of him and his work.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is Kanye West. He takes the complaints you lash at him and spins them into virtues. He's not the best rapper. He's a complete asshole. He's Carlton. He doesn't make spotless albums.

But O, what will he do next?

Hungry Mixtape, Vol. 1

2005-08-27T12:56:00.000-07:00

Singles are great, but as we all know, sometimes the best songs from albums aren't singles. They're too cool for the public at large. Since I am also, here are some songs (either recently released or soon to be released) that didn't make it to FM, and probably won't. Radios are lame, but the rock is definitely in the building.

The Free Design - Don't Cry Baby (Koushik & Dudley Perkins Mix)

The Free Design, a "soft-psych" American group from the '60s, got very little credit during their time. A complete commercial failure, the group's records (including their most recognized, Kites are Fun) have recently been re-released by the tiny Light in the Attic records. This particular mix of "Don't Cry Baby" appears on the compilation The Free Design: The Now Sound Redesigned, on which 20 FD tracks were mashed up by some of today's most prominent producers--Madlib, Danger Mouse, Kid Koala, Dan Snaith--as well some talented rockers--Super Furry Animals, Chris Geddes of Belle and Sebastian, Stereolab. Said track is much more a hip hop song than a tweaking of the original formula, drawing on some of the best. The Long Island/Native Tongue stylings of classic De La Soul and Tribe are all over the track. It's vibey, doesn't overextend itself and meshes well with the plethora of tastes and styles on this unexpectedly cohesive, excellent record.

Hollertronix - "Sugar Money Radio FM"

Before DJ Diplo went on his baile funk trip (from which he has yet to return), his Hollertronix parties were the center of the pop DJ universe. The mix albums he and Hollertronix co-founder Low Budget have scrapped together in the last few years (including 2004's fantastic Never Scared, which proved a hit at a recent high school party reenactment) manage to be ultra-hip and remarkably listenable at the same time. They've been known to sample the likes of Bjork, Ludacris, the Cars, the Clash, and Missy Elliott on the same album, sometimes even the same song, and make it work so as to please all crowds (white/black, hip/me). Well the soup du jour on this track is the Talking Heads (!), whose constantly overlooked "Sugar on my Tongue" kicks off this sampling fiesta. I don't even know what the rest is, some sort of soul/funk sample, but it sounds great just seconds after a Heads sample. Not so easy, mind you.

The Juan Maclean - "Tito's Way"

The Juan Maclean are supposed to be the A Light in August to LCD Soundsystem's The Sound and the Fury, but I think the distance is a little wider. As far as DFA goes, LCD are the bulk, the Sufjan Stevens to any labelmate's Bunky. JM's recent debut, Less Than Human, was perhaps disappointing, with the beats surprisingly latent. "Tito's Way," which actually is a single (there goes this column's integrity), has the classic DFA sound--the proper mix of drums, synth, and cowbell--and, well, not much else. Nevertheless, the proper use of robotic voices (what you may call LESS THAN HUMAN, but I call AWESOMER THAN HUMAN) serves well enough as a reminder of why we liked Daft Punk to begin with.

Kanye West - "Gone" (ft. Cam'ron and Consequence)

You'll hear a lot about Kanye West tomorrow on this site, but I've got to get the word out on this song as soon as possible. Around six minutes in length, "Gone" is still about as efficient as it could be. The track is scant on verse, and relies on four extended verses, in the order of Kanye-Cam'ron-Consequence-Kanye. Kanye's second tour is easily his best flow on the entire album. While the baroque, Jon Brion-assisted production still comes across as laborious, it doesn't sound like some other tracks where Kanye's rap seems distracted by how well the beat's holding up. Also, the relaxed vibe of Cam'ron works well alongside West's frequently intense delivery.

Mazarin - "Another One Goes By"

O great sleeper, awaken! Wow, We're Already There, the third album from these Philadelphia psych-poppers, took me by surprise, easily becoming one of the best power-pop albums of the year. "Another One Goes By" is both perfectly executed and sequenced within the record. It's a hazy lament that's not ashamed of its fuzz, and calms the mood without losing the excitement of the boisterous "For Energy Infinite" that immediately precedes it. Good work, Philly boys.

The New Pornographers - "Streets of Fire"

The Newest of the New Pornographers, Twin Cinema struck me by surprise similarly to Mazarin. While Mazarin's record blindsided nearly everyone (meaning the 4-5 people who've heard it, damn Philly and it's lack of publicity!), TC was expected (by tools) to be THE release of the summer. What a lark! Wait, what's that? They were right? Can we settle for third or fourth best of the summer? Much better. Incoherency aside, what I consider the best track on this remarkable album, "Streets of Fire," Dan Bejar's third and final contribution, has garnered both the least credit and most criticism of tracks on the album, and I can't see why. Cokemachineglow.com said it didn't fit in with the rest of the album. Well, assheads, if it did, I think we'd all be on quite a sugar rush by now. Bejar's the shit.

Part 2 to follow to come tomorrow/Monday/never...

Morbidity Watch

2005-08-26T21:15:00.000-07:00

Today, NPR had a report on an 83-year-old resident of a retirement community who has recently taken up the adorably disturbing hobby of obituary writing. He started out with himself, apparently not trusting his children to realize the overwhelming life of an advertising executive. Finding that he had a taste for the subject, he decided to offer his services to other retirees in his neighborhood. Since he know turns a tidy profit from his literary skills, I see no reason why I shouldn't be able to do the same. Sen(i)or OldGuy may have his demographic market covered, but that just leaves younger ages ripe for the plucking. We're the most valued group for every other kind of product, so we should have the obits covered as well.

The dirty little secret of obituary writing, one I learned earlier this year while helping to write my grandmother's, is that they all follow the same formula. Sure, the really famous get more extensive treatment, but for 99% of the population, all the obit writer has to do is copy-paste the right names in the right places.

The problem, for college kids at least, comes from this format. It emphasizes marriage, careers, and kids, otherwise known as all the stuff that constitutes life, which is also known as the thing we haven't lived yet. But, this can be overcome. In fact, it has been overcome. By me. Below, I present an example of the ObitModel3000: College Edition. I haven't trademarked it yet, and I wouldn't know how to make the signal for it if I did. So just know that if you steal my idea, it will hurt my feelings.

"Billy McBill, whose AIM screenname was 'HornyToad' died of being too awesome at his home in Pleasantville yesterday.

HornyToad was born on January 7th 1984 to a bunch of losers who never appreciated him. Sure bet they feel sorry about not letting him throw that house party now. Because he's dead. Can't throw many house parties from within the cold embrace of the crypt, can you Dad? What's that? I can't hear you. I'm dead! One time, his mom walked in on him... you know. Man, that was unawesome.

He was a 2002 graduate of EveryHighSchoolUSA, where he enjoyed feeling cripplingly awkward. It's not as if he had much choice though, because he couldn't have any parties at home, now could he?

He attended IvyLeague State, where he changed his major several times in a quest to find which one had the most girls and grade inflation. His many interests included 'smokin my chronic, golf, [and] smokin my chronic.' His enjoyed music from 'skinner, seger, the stones, led zepp, bon jovi, [and] MMMMMEEEEETTTTTAAAAALLLLLIIIIICCCCAAAAA!!!!!!!' He listed "Zoolander" as his favorite book. His favorite quote was 'Life isn't made up of the number of moments you breathe. It's made up of the number of moments that take your breath away.' Many of his friends speculated on both his gender and sexuality on account of this quote.

In addition to the aforementioned douchebag parents, he is survived by a younger brother, a dog, and 185 facebook friends.

Prior to his death, HornyToad requested that all memorial donations be made to I.C. Weiner. Although Mr. Weiner's name is not in the phonebook, HornyToad suggested calling Moe's. Then he laughed and laughed and laughed. Then he died."

Jealous?

Fine, But Delaware's Still the Worst State

2005-08-26T20:42:00.000-07:00

Recent statistical evidence confirms an assumption that anyone who has ever met Santa Clause already knew: fat people are generous, or, at least, skinny people aren't. According to the Trust for America's Health, an organization so honest that they have the word trust in their title, the top ten skinniest states, in enfattened order, are:

1 Colorado 16.8
2 Massachusetts 18.4
3 Vermont 18.7
4 Rhode Island 19.0
5 Utah 19.6
6 Connecticut 19.7
7 Montana 19.7
8 (tie) Wyoming 20.8
8 (tie) Idaho 20.8
10 Nevada 21.1

Whereas the top ten fattest comprise:

1 Mississippi (29.5) 28.1
2 Alabama (28.9) 27.7
3 West Virginia (27.6) 27.6
4 Louisiana (27.00) 25.8
5 Tennessee (27.2) 25.6
6 (tie) Texas (25.8) 25.3
6 (tie) Michigan (25.4) 25.3
6 (tie) Kentucky (25.8) 25.3
9 Indiana (25.5) 25.2
10 South Carolina (25.1) 25.1

This brings to mind an observation from two writers at the Economist that, instead of dividing America between red and blue states, one should divide it between horizontal and vertical. Horizontal America, filled with wide planes and concomitantly wide people like Denny Hastert, votes Republican. Vertical America, composed of the skyscrapers that dot the urban landscape in a way that Seuratt would appreciate, has whip-thin liberal leaders like Nancy Pelosi. This is the part where anyone who voted for Kerry can chortle about how people that voted for Bush are as stupid as they are fat. But, before they climb up to high on their laughing-at-Bush-voters horse, they should consider their own fat problem, a fatness of the soul. Because, a list of the top ten least charitable states, in declining order of stinginess, goes like this:

1. Alaska
2. New Hampshire
3. New Jersey
4. Connecticut
5. Rhode Island
6. Massachusetts
7. Louisiana
8. Illinois
9. Washington
10. Hawaii

Whereas the ten most charitable states are:

1. Utah
2. Wyoming
3. Arkansas
4. Nebraska
5. Mississippi
6. Oklahoma
7. South Dakota
8. South Carolina
9. Alabama
10. Tennessee

Utah can kind of be tossed out as an outlier, because their God tells them to tithe heavily to their church, otherwise they'll go to hell, which would presumably entail being followed around for all eternity by jackasses asking if you want to convert to their religion. Man, not even Dante thought up that one. Alaska can also be ignored, because they have to save up their money in case the dreaded penguins ever get their act together and join forces with the Eskimos.

Anyway, the fact remains that although they may be fat, those cross-burning, cousin-loving, trailer-park-living-in rednecks give a hell of a lot of money to charity, and the Waspy McWasps of the Northeast don't. Remarkably, this holds true despite seemingly extenuating conditions like, say, taxation. New Hampshire, a state with no income tax, stands skinny shoulder to skinny shoulder with heavily taxed Massachusetts.

Someone much smarter than me might be able to draw out clever observations on the nature of the welfare state, it's interaction with individual character, irrationally longstanding regional differences, and the development of social prejudices from this data. Perhaps, say, in the comments section. But for now, the English concentrator in me is winning out, so I'll just point out that Shakespeare had this all figured out before the data-crunchers at the Census Bureau could count their legoes. In Julius Caesar, he has his eponymous character declare: "Let me have men about me that are fat/ sleek-headed men and, such as sleep o’nights./ Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look./ He thinks too much, such men are dangerous."

Quote of the Fifty Years Ago: I'm a Saul Bellow Whore Edition

2005-08-25T20:29:00.000-07:00

"The Adventures of Augie March is concerned with Augie's quest to learn his own character and destiny. Novelist Saul Bellow (Dangling Man, The Victim) has handed over his typewriter to his hero, to let him tell his own story in his own way. As a result, the book, which has a kind of self-generating power and authenticity, reads more like fictionalized memoirs than a novel. Self-educated, slum-bred Augie writes with a combination of raw, breezy slang and literary allusion that is often bouncy and effective, although too frequently his over-enthusiastic prose is merely bloated. Despite it's faults of narrative, style and taste, the story is good enough to push 38-year-old Saul Bellow to the forefront of the younger, postwar U.S. novelists." - Time, 1953

Quote of the Day

2005-08-25T18:42:00.000-07:00

"But there's a dark side to the iPod era. Snobbery subsists on exclusivity. And the ownership of a huge and eclectic music collection has become ordinary. Thanks to the iPod, and digital music generally, anyone can milk various friends, acquaintances, and the Internet to quickly build a glorious 10,000-song collection. Adding insult to injury, this process often comes directly at the Rock Snob's expense. We are suddenly plagued by musical parasites. For instance, a friend of middling taste recently leeched 700 songs from my computer. He offered his own library in return, but it wasn't much. Never mind my vague sense that he should pay me some money. In Rock Snob terms, I was a Boston Brahmin and he was a Beverly Hillbilly--one who certainly hadn't earned that highly obscure album of AC/DC songs performed as tender acoustic ballads but was sure to go bragging to all his friends about it. Even worse was the girlfriend to whom I gave an iPod. She promptly plugged it into my computer and was soon holding in her hand a duplicate version of my 5,000-song library--a library that had taken some 20 years, thousands of dollars, and about as many hours to accumulate. She'd downloaded it all within five minutes. And, a few months later, she was gone, taking my intimate musical DNA with her." - Michael Crowley, The New Republic, where ACDC fans count as rock snobs.

Puppies, &c.

2005-08-25T17:29:00.000-07:00

Well, really just puppies. Props to Dan McQuade (D-mac, Blogger Dan) for putting this up as his first image on Philly Weekly's new blog, Philadelphia Will Do. Far and away the most adorable puppy ever. Better than that shit link I had in my article yesterday. This dog is the opposite of bad in every way, so why not have a little internet theft?

Starry Night

2005-08-24T20:50:00.000-07:00

If you ever want to feel high without paying for it, and if you don't have cool friends who let you mooch, then the next best alternative is to live in a city for the majority of the year, then take a trip somewhere where the stars come out at night. They probably won't look as cool as those in the picture, but there will be free candy. I promise. Even if there isn't candy, there will still be stars.

In an essay that's so rewarding it's not even funny - and normally I find rewarding essays hilarious, so that's really saying something - Emerson says that "If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore; and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God which had been shown! But every night come out these envoys of beauty, and light the universe with their admonishing smile." Holla, E-Dog. Holla.

Quote of the Day

2005-08-24T14:51:00.000-07:00

"I didn't say 'assassination.' I said our special forces should 'take him out.' And 'take him out' can be a number of things, including kidnapping." -Pat Robertson

Bunky and the Backup

2005-08-24T13:37:00.000-07:00

As Tim blurbed about, Sufjan Stevens' show at the Bowery Ballroom on August 22 (the fourth and penultimate of his NYC "Spirit Week" run) had some faults, but was overall a deliciously sexy experience. Considering he's the hottest item in indie right now, he probably got away with a lot more than a rising band would've. He spent approximately seven days tuning his g'damn banjo everytime he needed to use it, played maybe 12 songs total and cheered our hearts away. Many of us found this adorable, while others failed to share the sentiment. Indeed, it was the first time I've seen audience backlash at a show of someone this popular. During one of the several unintentional interludes, an obnoxious (and correct) fellow shouted"thanks for playing tonight," forcing all who were self-conscious in the crowd (everyone) to look anxiously groundward. After a couple more outbursts, Stuffy (pronounced "STOO-fee," and that's my pet name, so don't even try) told the rogue to "shutup," shortly thereafter expressing his desire to "tie this guy up." Stuffnasty, so angry! What's up with religious folk being so violent?

But enough with the Stuff. The real highlight of the show--aside from the Bowery Ballroom itself, which was considerably more comfortable than its Philadelphia equivalent--was Stevens' wonderfully attractive Angelina Jolie-like backup singer (above). I have little else to say about Ms. Awesome (whose name I don't even know, although I hear she might be part of a family), just that nearly everyone who left the show didn't waste a second in saying "Did you see Angelina Jolie on stage? Sufjan's totally hitting that." Well are you, Stuff?

The other best part of the show, easily, was Sufjan's immediate opener, Bunky. A 5-7 piece from San Diego, this freakshow is the best live experience you'll ever have that you'll never want to see again. Their first track, "Born to be a Motorcycle," kicked off with drummer/vocalist Emily Joyce's soft, Betty Boop-like voice rollicking along until, out of nowhere, leader Rafter Roberts, a hilariously portly fellow, churns out a raging guitar assault and screams the line "I was born to be a motorcycle!!!!" appropriately enough. The crowd, of course, laughed (a good thing?) for the whole night. As Roberts himself put it, "don't get mad at me just because I have incredible stage presence." The guy was a lunatic, in fact, although perhaps not the most infamous. His booty shakes and well-timed twitches were something else. If only the band could play instruments, they'd be... completely lame, probably.

The most unfortunate part of the evening was the lack of chaotic dance party. If I've learned one thing at college, it's that the world's greatest secret is there's a dance party going on everywhere at every time, and we're just to lazy to notice it.

We all fail.

He Brought the Illinoise, Not So Much Illifunk

2005-08-24T12:10:00.000-07:00

Despite that notable failure, and an excessive reliance on sloppily executed gimmicks, the innate awesomenss of Sufjan Stevens's songs made the concert more than wortwhile. Damn, "All the Trees of the Field" gets me every time.

Intelligent Design = Actually, Really Stupid Design for Idiots

2005-08-24T11:25:00.000-07:00

I like science a lot. I don't understand it, but I do like it, and I generally know who to go to when I want to know what people who do understand science think. So, I think I'm on pretty solid ground when I say that an op-ed in yesterday's New York Times from Verlyn Kinkenborg - who is not a villain from Hogan's Heroes - has it pretty much right when it says that "Intelligent design is not a theory at all, as scientists understand the word, but a well-financed political and religious campaign to muddy science. Its basic proposition - the intervention of a designer, a k a God - cannot be tested. It has no evidence to offer, and its assumptions that humans were divinely created are the same as its conclusions. Its objections to evolution are based on syllogistic reasoning and a highly selective treatment of the physical evidence... [A]ccepting intelligent design means discarding science."

If this is true, then why oh why did the New York Times have to humor the 45 percent of Americans who believe that "God created human beings pretty much in their present form at one time within the last 10,000 years or so." That's nice. And by "nice" I mean nice in the sense in which Shakespeare used it. Shakespeare used it to mean stupid. That's stupid.

It's true that since last November's election, God is the new black, and that following some intense naval gazing, the Times's Executive Editor, Bill Keller, has declared that the paper needs to do more to speak to the concerns of those who dwell within the vast area - which may or may not be Mordor - between the coasts that isn't a major city. But that doesn't justify running a multi-part series on the "debate" between intelligent designers and the scientific community, as the paper of record finished doing yesterday. Although the articles provided space for scientists to explain why intelligent design fails so spectacularly, the mere fact of the article's existence helps promote the cause of these neo-creationists. When the most influential paper in the world runs treats your theory as worthy of discussion, then, regardless of its legitimacy, it becomes worthy of discussion. The constraints of objective journalism further promote this impression by providing equal time for intelligent designers. Again, even if the quality of the argument is poor, the fact of its existence constitutes a victory for intelligent designers, hence the widespread support among religious conservatives for "teach the controversy" evolution curricula.

There wasn't a controversy about evolution among people who actually understand it before the Times's series, and there isn't one now. But, with the help of a few quixotic scientists, savvy politicians, and a cowardly and complaisant media, there is enough material to create a controversy about evolution among those who don't. Nice.

Quote of the Day

2005-08-23T14:54:00.000-07:00

It'll be hard to top Tim's gem from yesterday, so I won't even try. We should just change this to "George W. Bush's worst month ever" quote of the day for the rest of August, unless they keep falling into our lap for longer.

"Each of these heroes left a legacy that will allow generations of their fellow Americans to enjoy the blessings of liberty." - George W. Bush

Dying soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan = liberty for America? Righteous.

Music Review: Sing Me Spanish Indie Pop

2005-08-23T12:36:00.000-07:00

The New Pornographers
Twin Cinema
B+
Matador

About a month ago, I was telling anyone who'd listen that indie rock was dead. Not a new concept at all, but even those artists considered by many to be keeping indie afloat--the Shins, the Arcade Fire--and those destined to win legions of fans in the near future--Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Wolf Parade--seem like an exercise in fading glory. Those bands, no matter what anyone says, are about as progressive as Joseph McCarthy. It's more fun to play Pick the Influence while listening to their records than to shout their resurrecting qualities from your room's window. Sure, I like many of these cut-and-paste groups. But will I in five years?

Much to my surprise, the New Pornographers, a band that made good with their first two releases but never seemed to matter, have made perhaps the indie pop album of the year. Like Philadelphia's Mazarin, whose stunning, recently released We're Already There ranks near the top as well, Vancouver's finest effortlessly breeze through their tracklist with some of the tautest hooks this side of the Blue Album.

The all-star trio of Carl Newman, Neko Case and Dan Bejar split the work fairly (although Newman still carries the bulk of the record) and more coherently than on previous releases. Bejar, the guy behind the wonderful Destroyer, contributes only three tracks, but they're three of the best: the whimsical "Jackie, Dressed in Cobras," and the mellower "Streets of Fire," the album's clear standout track.

Remarkably, you get more with this record on each listen. After the first spin, you'll think you've got the gist of it, but little flourishes or muted horns will creep in on listens 3 or 4. Don't underestimate these guys.

Twin Cinema is not a leap forward for the NP. It is, however, tighter, more melodic, shockingly consistent and lacking any pretense. It's the best album the Porners can make without experimenting; those disappointed with Cinema who want the group to grow more adventurous are looking in the wrong place. Newman & Co. play to their formidable strengths as musicians, and it's that simple formula that will keep the indie pop engine running a little while longer.

Quote of the Day

2005-08-22T10:17:00.000-07:00

"I'm going to have lunch with Secretary of State Rice, talk a little business; Mrs. Bush, talk a little business; we've got a friend from South Texas here, named Katharine Armstrong; take a little nap. I'm reading an Elmore Leonard book right now, knock off a little Elmore Leonard this afternoon; go fishing with my man, Barney; a light dinner and head to the ballgame. I get to bed about 9:30 p.m., wake up about 5 a.m. So it's a perfect day." - George W. Bush

TV Review: Six Feet Under Finale

2005-08-22T10:12:00.000-07:00

Six Feet Under is one of the few shows on television, really in all contemporary art and culture, whose structure allows it to get away with its many outrageous flaws. Frequently overwritten and absurd but always compelling, Alan Ball's flagship HBO drama has deflected constant laced-with-respect criticism over the years regarding its unceasing melodrama. Did critics and fans still consider this one of the best shows on television because its spot-on successes trumped its misses, or because the latter were incorporated into the former?

Last night's series finale featured many scenes that, were they on any other show, would take about four seconds for bloggers to rip to shreds. But, then again, these scenes couldn't be on any other show--this particular blend of wisdom, whimsy and devastation stuns just by making it on the air, let alone for five seasons.

While Frances Conroy's Ruth Fisher delivers another knockout performance (she seems to have elevated her already formidable talents in recent weeks), David (Michael C. Hall) steals the last episode. Finally confronting his insecurities--which range from being picked on as a child to being tortured last season to finally losing his brother and protector three episodes ago--he takes over as patriarch of the mixed-bag Fisher family. He sits at the head of the table during a farewell dinner for Claire, who leaves for New York at the end, and remembers Nate in such a way that both serves his late brother respect and shows that, finally, he doesn't need him.

Nate Fisher's "ghost"--how remaining characters envisioned his reactions after his death on the July 31 episode--completely defies the artistic "show, don't tell" standards, but does it with such style and efficiency that it's hard to complain. When his widow Brenda, for example, worries about her newborn's well-being in the first half of the episode, we know the possibilities: fears of raising Willa by herself, that Willa didn't escape her premature birth unscathed, that she should have had that amniocentesis when a gynecological test showed a five percent chance of birth defects. But for any lingering doubt, we have Nate's representation of her thoughts to shore everything up--you know the premature birth is related to that test. You should have had an abortion.

Superfluous? Perhaps. Powerful? More than anything.

The same character trait--unwavering confidence--that makes George W. Bush such a complete enemy among blue-staters makes Alan Ball a hero in the same crowd. His vision is so unifyingly consistent and umcompromising that it plows through perceptible problems without taking a single look over its shoulder. Fortunately, Ball's vision is wholly artistic. Maybe he hides his soap opera-esque flaws under that wonderfully escapist umbrella of magical realism, but then again, how many television writers even know what that is? Ball sets his sights high (or low), tackling such imposing ideas as existentialism and living secularly in the presence of death. What's a flaw or two in light of that?

God and Man at Six Feet Under

2005-08-21T19:26:00.000-07:00

Now I have something. Despite Six Feet Under's aggressively secular viewpoint (sample dialogue: "There’s no God, no rules, no judgements except the ones you accept or create for yourself and once it’s over, it’s over"), the series finale of this bluest of blue state shows embraced family values in a way rarely seen this side of PAX, or an op-ed supporting gay marriage. A show with plotlines that included sex with prostitutes, adultery, and incest, among other activities sure to outrage the collective campus of Bob Jones, ended with babies, marriage, and a celebration of family. Even though it's characters didn't believe in God nearly as much as they believed in having lots of sex, somehow they came to the same conclusions about what makes life worthwhile as most of those Bob Jones alums probably will. When this constitutes radicalism, maybe the divide between...wait...this isn't radicalism at all.

Well, Not Now

2005-08-21T14:35:00.000-07:00

But when I have something worthwhile to talk about. Which will be soon. Just not now.

Fear and Trembling

2005-08-21T14:16:00.000-07:00

This is probably a bad idea. As explained here , anyone who has any interest in the academy, which includes me, would be well advised to stay far away from the wretched netherworld of blogs. These grafs discuss the heart of the matter, to coin a phrase:

A blog easily becomes a therapeutic outlet, a place to vent petty gripes and frustrations stemming from congested traffic, rude sales clerks, or unpleasant national news. It becomes an open diary or confessional booth, where inward thoughts are publicly aired.

Worst of all, for professional academics, it's a publishing medium with no vetting process, no review board, and no editor. The author is the sole judge of what constitutes publishable material, and the medium allows for instantaneous distribution. After wrapping up a juicy rant at 3 a.m., it only takes a few clicks to put it into global circulation....

It would never occur to the committee to ask what a candidate thinks about certain people's choice of fashion or body adornment, which countries we should invade, what should be done to drivers who refuse to get out of the passing lane, what constitutes a real man, or how the recovery process from one's childhood traumas is going. But since the applicant elaborated on many topics like those, we were all ears. And we were a little concerned. It's not our place to make the recommendation, but we agreed a little therapy (of the offline variety) might be in order....

Job seekers who are also bloggers may have a tough road ahead, if our committee's experience is any indication.

You may think your blog is a harmless outlet. You may use the faulty logic of the blogger, "Oh, no one will see it anyway." Don't count on it. Even if you take your blog offline while job applications are active, Google and other search engines store cached data of their prior contents. So that cranky rant might still turn up.

The content of the blog may be less worrisome than the fact of the blog itself. Several committee members expressed concern that a blogger who joined our staff might air departmental dirty laundry (real or imagined) on the cyber clothesline for the world to see. Past good behavior is no guarantee against future lapses of professional decorum....

[I]n truth, we did not disqualify any applicants based purely on their blogs. If the blog was a negative factor, it was one of many that killed a candidate's chances.

More often that not, however, the blog was a negative, and job seekers need to eliminate as many negatives as possible.

So this is a risk, but I think it's a manageable one. Specifically, it's one I can manage by posting stuff that won't embarass me. Starting...NOW!

the way kathie lee needs regis is the way I need blogs

2005-08-21T13:27:00.000-07:00

So this is what it takes to be respected. If only I'd found this out before I went to college.

Bookmark this page, not only because you gotta bookmark something, but because you'll be checking this everyday. You know how some webzines, namely Pitchfork, get 200,000 readers per day? Well we're gonna get three, so suck it, Schreiber.

Jivin':
1) Tonight is the series finale of Six Feet Under. To shame, I guess. I never really watched it seriously until last season. Given that starting point, it's shocking that I've watched every episode this season, which has certainly been an improvement. Anyways, a lot is riding on this finale: the show's legacy. Will it be remembered as a classic, or just a respectable leap forward bogged down by its frequently unendurable melodrama?

2) Look forward to film and album reviews soon. Tim and I saw The 40-Year-Old Virgin this weekend, and I've gotten a hold of Kanye West's latest enormity, Late Registration. Percentage ratings up in this--

3) Tell your friends to read this once it gets up and running. I'll get Mariah Carey to sign an autograph for every viewer, because I know her. We went out in fourth grade.

Whatevs.

First Post

2005-08-21T12:40:00.000-07:00

Yeah and the like