If you ever make miso soup, be careful not to get any miso on your hands. Your hands will look like they're covered in doody.
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Friday, January 13, 2006
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Plans = Transatlanticism II
After reading here on Stereogum that Ben Gibbard has a degree in environmental chemistry (not so dissimilar to my own chem degree, researching the exact mechanism of Sydney Chapman's kinetic model for ozone metabolism), I stumbled upon a 2003 web feature, written a couple months before Transatlanticism's release. I especially liked this quote:
Gibbard’s heard from people that [Transatlanticism] doesn’t rock like the old stuff, and that’s okay with him. “I don’t want it to rock like the old records,” he says. “I want to be this new thing. I want us to concentrate on texture and arrangements and not bang through things like we’ve done in the past.”Telling, since this is the same charge I leveled at Plans, the follow-up to Transatlanticism. I can kinda understand the point, though I disagree. I can see how the tempo slowed down and the energy tempered itself between The Photo Album (their best) and Transatlanticism. But Transatlanticism does have a good deal of bite... one can't listen to "The New Year," "Expo '86" or the title track without acknowledging that. And you can't sit through a 13-minute snorefest like "Stability" and then assert that Transatlanticism doesn't rock as hard as its predecessor. I mean, look how much deeper the chasm is now... the sharpest edge on Plans is the side of the CD. (Zing!) Anyway, I thought it was neat how they had no idea what kind of rocking-ness dropoff they were in for.
Groucho Marx Fights The Power
I've got a good mind to join a club and beat you over the head with it.
Tearing The Warners A New One
Tearing The Warners A New One
Annoying Singers
I have no good answer to the following question, but I want to try and figure it out anyway... why is it that I can forgive an annoying singing voice for some bands (Decemberists, Green Day, Bright Eyes, Flaming Lips, LCD Soundsystem, Sigur Rós, even Art Brut) but not Crap Your Pants Say Yeah? Why do I appear to have chosen Clap Your Hands as a battleground for this problem, about which I do feel strongly (people, please stop affecting your voices unless you're punk, OK) when I listen to so much other stuff that could provoke a similar response?
I've had oodles of time to come around on CYHSY and stop hating their guts, and it hasn't happened because their singer is so unforgivably terrible. He sounds like garbage, contributes absolutely nothing to his band, and yet sings in a way that only a more talented singer should attempt. You know how sometimes people will say someone like, say, Billie Holliday has a voice like an instrument, because of how impressively she can contort the tone of her voice around a song? Imagine someone with no talent doing that, and you'll have Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. Every time I hear that fucking idiot pretend like he's David Byrne, I want to break a guitar over his head and scream "I Zimbra" while I beat my chest.
I think what bothers me the most is that it just doesn't work for CYHSY. David Byrne adopted his affected singing style for a reason... an audience will connect more with a singer who has an imperfect voice. (Byrne is on the record saying this, though I can't remember where.) The To draw attention to himself? It sure isn't to make the band sound good. Everyone else in the band is doing a decent job; he's the guy who's holding them back.
Now, here's what bothers me about the question. As someone who knowingly takes a long time to come around on music, there's an implication that I will eventually like Crap Your Pants. There's plenty of evidence to support that idea. I, at one time, wanted to hunt down Rush singer Geddy Lee. The intro to "Today's Tom Sawyer" was enough to send me flipping away from WAAF. But I know now that Rush kicks ass, and admit being wrong. The eventual acceptance into my heart of Bright Eyes, Coldplay, Flaming Lips and others that I'd dismissed only goes to show that no matter how vitriolic my distaste for a particular band, there's always hope.
But not for Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. They friggin suck.
I've had oodles of time to come around on CYHSY and stop hating their guts, and it hasn't happened because their singer is so unforgivably terrible. He sounds like garbage, contributes absolutely nothing to his band, and yet sings in a way that only a more talented singer should attempt. You know how sometimes people will say someone like, say, Billie Holliday has a voice like an instrument, because of how impressively she can contort the tone of her voice around a song? Imagine someone with no talent doing that, and you'll have Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. Every time I hear that fucking idiot pretend like he's David Byrne, I want to break a guitar over his head and scream "I Zimbra" while I beat my chest.
I think what bothers me the most is that it just doesn't work for CYHSY. David Byrne adopted his affected singing style for a reason... an audience will connect more with a singer who has an imperfect voice. (Byrne is on the record saying this, though I can't remember where.) The To draw attention to himself? It sure isn't to make the band sound good. Everyone else in the band is doing a decent job; he's the guy who's holding them back.
Now, here's what bothers me about the question. As someone who knowingly takes a long time to come around on music, there's an implication that I will eventually like Crap Your Pants. There's plenty of evidence to support that idea. I, at one time, wanted to hunt down Rush singer Geddy Lee. The intro to "Today's Tom Sawyer" was enough to send me flipping away from WAAF. But I know now that Rush kicks ass, and admit being wrong. The eventual acceptance into my heart of Bright Eyes, Coldplay, Flaming Lips and others that I'd dismissed only goes to show that no matter how vitriolic my distaste for a particular band, there's always hope.
But not for Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. They friggin suck.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Crash, redux
The more I think about Crash, the less universal it seems. It makes sense as a point of conversation, but only if you can see through the material's weaknesses. There are all kinds of conceits required to make the movie happen. Engaging in stereotypes is an obvious one, and the onslaught of convenient coincidences is another. To an extent, those implausibilities can be glossed over in the name of making a film that speaks faithfully about race. Character implausibilities, though, cannot.
While looking over The Internets for other perspectives, one in particular struck a chord. The author of an email printed at the bottom of this column points out that the two major encounters between the police and black characters, both of which are critical to the film's structure, require decisions that a rational black person would never make. They would have to be insane to agitate the police as they do, knowing what the cops in LA are like. So what is undoubtedly a filmmaking conceit (make this event happen) seriously undermines the film's legitimacy. I think that's a fair argument to make.
I would argue, however, that those moments of character implausibility aren't limited to black characters. Take Ryan Phillippe's scene with Larenz Tate towards the end of the film... would a white person who claims to be enlightened judge a black stranger, in his face, as Phillippe does? No. Just as Terrence Howard and Thandie Newton's characters didn't act within the boundaries of expected behavior for a black person getting profiled by cops, Phillippe didn't act within the boundaries of expected behavior for a white person picking up a black hitchhiker. He's enlightened enough to pick up a black hitchhiker in a rough part of town, but not enlightened enough to keep from condescending Tate when he talks about country music and ice hockey? Is that any less ridiculous? I don't think so. In each case, a similar conclusion could have been reached with a little more patience, and a little less of the ham-handed screenwriting.
The point is, Crash has plenty of weaknesses, but they aren't enough to outweigh the poignant observations it makes elsewhere. I don't consider it a damaging film because of its faults.
While looking over The Internets for other perspectives, one in particular struck a chord. The author of an email printed at the bottom of this column points out that the two major encounters between the police and black characters, both of which are critical to the film's structure, require decisions that a rational black person would never make. They would have to be insane to agitate the police as they do, knowing what the cops in LA are like. So what is undoubtedly a filmmaking conceit (make this event happen) seriously undermines the film's legitimacy. I think that's a fair argument to make.
I would argue, however, that those moments of character implausibility aren't limited to black characters. Take Ryan Phillippe's scene with Larenz Tate towards the end of the film... would a white person who claims to be enlightened judge a black stranger, in his face, as Phillippe does? No. Just as Terrence Howard and Thandie Newton's characters didn't act within the boundaries of expected behavior for a black person getting profiled by cops, Phillippe didn't act within the boundaries of expected behavior for a white person picking up a black hitchhiker. He's enlightened enough to pick up a black hitchhiker in a rough part of town, but not enlightened enough to keep from condescending Tate when he talks about country music and ice hockey? Is that any less ridiculous? I don't think so. In each case, a similar conclusion could have been reached with a little more patience, and a little less of the ham-handed screenwriting.
The point is, Crash has plenty of weaknesses, but they aren't enough to outweigh the poignant observations it makes elsewhere. I don't consider it a damaging film because of its faults.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Crash
I found Crash thoroughly entertaining, as accurate a microcosm of racial politics as you're likely to see. But charges of "realism" are bogus. It's not shades-of-grey as much as it's alternating black and white. A character like Sandra Bullock's rich white woman is petty and obnoxious at one moment, weak and needy at the next. Ryan Phillippe is a hero at one moment, shady at the next. Matt Dillon is a racist MF at one moment, and a genuine hero at the next. It adds up, but you have to take the long view in order for anything to add up.
I'm OK with plot contrivances, like the coincidental appearance of everyone in everyone else's story arcs. But I'm not OK with contrived dialogue, like Chris "Ludacris" Bridges' speech when he and Larenz Tate first appear. Those moments in which people seemed a little too conscious of their own position in life... there's gotta be a better way to accomplish that.
The acting is what elevates Crash to relevance. Everyone did a great job, though the quartet of Terrence Howard, Thandie Newton, Ryan Phillippe and Matt Dillon do the best, most complex work in the film. Of particular note are Dillon, who seems born to play his role, and Howard. Based on his performance here, I see what the big deal about Terrence Howard is about. He owns the screen whenever he appears, like he's ready to explode at any moment.
All in all, pretty good. I'd give Crash... ohhhhh... 3 out of 5 Hitlers.
Funny that in a movie that claims to leave nobody unharmed, the Jews made it through the movie without being stereotyped. Maybe the sequel will start hating on people for their religions instead of their races. At any rate, the Jews' victory finally puts them on the scoreboard, where the score is 723,879,234,879,287,435,287,345-1 in favor of Goyim.
I'm OK with plot contrivances, like the coincidental appearance of everyone in everyone else's story arcs. But I'm not OK with contrived dialogue, like Chris "Ludacris" Bridges' speech when he and Larenz Tate first appear. Those moments in which people seemed a little too conscious of their own position in life... there's gotta be a better way to accomplish that.
The acting is what elevates Crash to relevance. Everyone did a great job, though the quartet of Terrence Howard, Thandie Newton, Ryan Phillippe and Matt Dillon do the best, most complex work in the film. Of particular note are Dillon, who seems born to play his role, and Howard. Based on his performance here, I see what the big deal about Terrence Howard is about. He owns the screen whenever he appears, like he's ready to explode at any moment.
All in all, pretty good. I'd give Crash... ohhhhh... 3 out of 5 Hitlers.
Funny that in a movie that claims to leave nobody unharmed, the Jews made it through the movie without being stereotyped. Maybe the sequel will start hating on people for their religions instead of their races. At any rate, the Jews' victory finally puts them on the scoreboard, where the score is 723,879,234,879,287,435,287,345-1 in favor of Goyim.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
I've Had A Breakthrough
It happened. The unthinkable finally happened. I was trying to avoid it, put it off as long as possible, but I just couldn't do it anymore. Liking similar bands like Death Cab and Snow Patrol, while resisting Coldplay, was too much. So I gave in. Now I like Coldplay, and no longer think they're a bunch of pussies. I still have my reservations, but I've concluded that being woefully inoffensive is not offensive in and of itself, and listening to them is nothing to be ashamed of. "Talk" pushed me over the edge. I listened to it a couple times this week and concluded it was too good a song for me to actively dislike them anymore. (And no, I don't suddenly feel like buying a Swedish car.)
I actually feel a lot guiltier for listening to The Decemberists. I feel like a real nerd for liking Picaresque. Colin Meloy is either the lovechild of a three-way between Katharine Hepburn and Gilbert & Sullivan, or the explanation for why you shouldn't read too many Herman Melville novels. Getting into the ups and downs of his tales of woe makes me feel like an absolute dork every time it happens. Brilliant stuff though. The musical concept reminds me a lot of what Sufjan Stevens does, except with more polish and less God.
I actually feel a lot guiltier for listening to The Decemberists. I feel like a real nerd for liking Picaresque. Colin Meloy is either the lovechild of a three-way between Katharine Hepburn and Gilbert & Sullivan, or the explanation for why you shouldn't read too many Herman Melville novels. Getting into the ups and downs of his tales of woe makes me feel like an absolute dork every time it happens. Brilliant stuff though. The musical concept reminds me a lot of what Sufjan Stevens does, except with more polish and less God.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Huh?
I saw Brokeback Mountain last night. I liked it, but not that much. Ebert's way off comparing it to Bergman, though I do think it's nuanced and evocative. It's definitely a thinker, though... I needed to spend a looooong time thinking about why things were presented as they were in order to get the point. It was kind of a letdown compared to the building hype, but it's a good story, it's beautifully photographed, and the acting is excellent. And it's hard not to identify with Ennis, who stifles so much of himself in order to follow the rules.
But there's a paradox inherent in how the romance is handled. The majority of Ennis and Jack's physical relationship was implicit, and largely ignored after the first act of the film. But that assumes the nuts and bolts of the relationship was a non-issue after being established, which I don't think is true. Ennis and Jack's relationship was an escape from the shackles of their marriages, and the fulfillment of their most urgent physical needs... but only in the very first moments of their realization, when their instincts first took over, do we see that need. Beyond that point, their bond is assumed, but rarely demonstrated, if at all.
I see two sides of a coin, only one of which can be true in one's mind:
HEADS: I didn't see that side of their love, and thus do not identify with or buy into their feelings. This undermines the main current of the story, which is that they are each other's true love, despite having settled into heterosexual marriages. I'm not saying you have to depict a lot of gay sex in order to establish that your characters are sleeping together, but there are other ways to establish their intimacy as the story unfolds. The motel room was a great example, but there needed to be more moments like that. I'd rather not take their word on something as important as their attraction, especially when it's supposed to be this huge relief from the throttling marriages they've entered into.
TAILS: The sparseness of explicit homosexuality makes one think to oneself, "Self... they're not being gay all over the place, they're basically normal people." Exactly! They're normal people! Just a couple of guys. If you didn't know they were gay, there would be nothing remarkable about them. The absence of sex also forces you to concentrate on the characters' personality, which really is the point... not to condition America towards depictions of gay sex on film. Brokeback thus implores us to stop fixating on the mundane physical side of sex, gay or otherwise, and concentrate instead on their situation. You could even argue that the lack of visible romantic consummation is a statement on how unfulfilling their relationship is. On a small scale their visits may be deeply fulfilling, but on a larger scale it was barren; concentrating on the long view is therefore just a filmmaking decision.
While the Tails perspective works, it serves as a better political statement than a film construct. I can buy it, but to do so requires a leap of faith equivalent to the leap required to believe Jack and Ennis love each other so deeply. Would it kill them to convince me a little? Wouldn't take much. But I can also see how adding warmth and intimacy to the later parts of the film might not serve the story. I can believe that Ang Lee decided he preferred it like this, barren and poetic instead of warm and erotic. His films (even The Hulk) are nothing if not considered and thought-out. So I want to trust that he knows what he's doing. But I'm not totally convinced.
As you can see, I'm pretty torn. Too much grey will do that, I guess. It's weird, because the movie is so sympathetic, and yet there's a polarization that's bound to happen based on whether you buy the romance or not. It took me this long to come around on whether the movie worked at all. I can tell there's depth there, which makes it too easy to simply dismiss, but that doesn't mean Ang Lee didn't screw up somehow. Maybe I'll figure it out eventually.
But there's a paradox inherent in how the romance is handled. The majority of Ennis and Jack's physical relationship was implicit, and largely ignored after the first act of the film. But that assumes the nuts and bolts of the relationship was a non-issue after being established, which I don't think is true. Ennis and Jack's relationship was an escape from the shackles of their marriages, and the fulfillment of their most urgent physical needs... but only in the very first moments of their realization, when their instincts first took over, do we see that need. Beyond that point, their bond is assumed, but rarely demonstrated, if at all.
I see two sides of a coin, only one of which can be true in one's mind:
HEADS: I didn't see that side of their love, and thus do not identify with or buy into their feelings. This undermines the main current of the story, which is that they are each other's true love, despite having settled into heterosexual marriages. I'm not saying you have to depict a lot of gay sex in order to establish that your characters are sleeping together, but there are other ways to establish their intimacy as the story unfolds. The motel room was a great example, but there needed to be more moments like that. I'd rather not take their word on something as important as their attraction, especially when it's supposed to be this huge relief from the throttling marriages they've entered into.
TAILS: The sparseness of explicit homosexuality makes one think to oneself, "Self... they're not being gay all over the place, they're basically normal people." Exactly! They're normal people! Just a couple of guys. If you didn't know they were gay, there would be nothing remarkable about them. The absence of sex also forces you to concentrate on the characters' personality, which really is the point... not to condition America towards depictions of gay sex on film. Brokeback thus implores us to stop fixating on the mundane physical side of sex, gay or otherwise, and concentrate instead on their situation. You could even argue that the lack of visible romantic consummation is a statement on how unfulfilling their relationship is. On a small scale their visits may be deeply fulfilling, but on a larger scale it was barren; concentrating on the long view is therefore just a filmmaking decision.
While the Tails perspective works, it serves as a better political statement than a film construct. I can buy it, but to do so requires a leap of faith equivalent to the leap required to believe Jack and Ennis love each other so deeply. Would it kill them to convince me a little? Wouldn't take much. But I can also see how adding warmth and intimacy to the later parts of the film might not serve the story. I can believe that Ang Lee decided he preferred it like this, barren and poetic instead of warm and erotic. His films (even The Hulk) are nothing if not considered and thought-out. So I want to trust that he knows what he's doing. But I'm not totally convinced.
As you can see, I'm pretty torn. Too much grey will do that, I guess. It's weird, because the movie is so sympathetic, and yet there's a polarization that's bound to happen based on whether you buy the romance or not. It took me this long to come around on whether the movie worked at all. I can tell there's depth there, which makes it too easy to simply dismiss, but that doesn't mean Ang Lee didn't screw up somehow. Maybe I'll figure it out eventually.
Friday, December 30, 2005
Homeland Security Update: T.F. Green Edition
On my way back to Maryland a couple days ago, at T.F. Green Airport (Bruce Sundlun Terminal!) in Providence, I checked a bag. There's an x-ray machine that each bag has to go through... every bag, that is, except mine. A TSA employee grabbed my bag, picked it up, tagged it with the "OK" sticker, and sent it back. It arrived OK, but no x-ray. There's only a couple things that can explain this:
1) I got lucky
2) My bag looked e-friggin-normous so they said "screw it"
3) Random bag search
4) Targeted bag search, because my email accounts and blogs have been scanned for rhetorical anti-Bush sentiments
Personally, I think #4 is the most likely. I think my arrival tipped off the person in charge of investigating guys on their "watch list," who popped out and assured me that I was taken care of. It's a distraction thing. See, the guy who grabbed my bag didn't come back to get anyone else's stuff. It's not like he was taking every, oh, 20 bags and giving them a thorough once-over. He took mine, and mine alone as far as I know. It could be a coincidence, like his shift just ended, or he was covering for someone during their smoke break, but I can't think of one reason why TSA or the airports deserve the benefit of the doubt when it comes to my civil liberties. It's too weird. I say I'm on The List. The one that Ted Kennedy's on that keeps him from boarding airplanes. (No, not "10 Most Wanted DWI Fatties," I mean the homeland security list.)
Anyway, the purpose of this post is as follows: if I end up disappearing for some reason, without a trace, it's safe to assume that TSA kidnapped me. I'll be in Gitmo or Abu Ghraib, with a bag on my head and electrodes attached to my balls. Oh, and someone will have defiled the Sports Guy's new book in an attempt to abuse my foreign value system.
1) I got lucky
2) My bag looked e-friggin-normous so they said "screw it"
3) Random bag search
4) Targeted bag search, because my email accounts and blogs have been scanned for rhetorical anti-Bush sentiments
Personally, I think #4 is the most likely. I think my arrival tipped off the person in charge of investigating guys on their "watch list," who popped out and assured me that I was taken care of. It's a distraction thing. See, the guy who grabbed my bag didn't come back to get anyone else's stuff. It's not like he was taking every, oh, 20 bags and giving them a thorough once-over. He took mine, and mine alone as far as I know. It could be a coincidence, like his shift just ended, or he was covering for someone during their smoke break, but I can't think of one reason why TSA or the airports deserve the benefit of the doubt when it comes to my civil liberties. It's too weird. I say I'm on The List. The one that Ted Kennedy's on that keeps him from boarding airplanes. (No, not "10 Most Wanted DWI Fatties," I mean the homeland security list.)
Anyway, the purpose of this post is as follows: if I end up disappearing for some reason, without a trace, it's safe to assume that TSA kidnapped me. I'll be in Gitmo or Abu Ghraib, with a bag on my head and electrodes attached to my balls. Oh, and someone will have defiled the Sports Guy's new book in an attempt to abuse my foreign value system.
Friday, December 23, 2005
Think On This
What if O.J. Simpson hosted the MTV Video Music Awards? "Our next musical act is very special to me, because I've been hunting them for eleven years. Here they are... the real Killers!" Or not. What do I know, I'm just a doctor.
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