Monday, April 26, 2010

What The Dead Men Say

An interesting article on the late Alex Chilton has been posted on nola.com, well worth reading for anyone interested in the enigmatic rocker’s life in New Orleans after leaving Memphis in the early 80s. However, the article encourages at least one illusion about the musician, that he was actually a “professional” musician rather than an amateur one. I don’t use the designation “amateur” in any pejorative sense here, but only to suggest that a professional has a career, and Chilton did not. Practicing amateurs are the rule rather than the exception in rock. What is meant by career other than a narrative that charts an artist’s development through time? Since Chilton had a largely elusive life (and career, if one must use that word) after leaving Big Star, and is now dead and therefore no longer able to speak for himself, others will speak on his behalf, writing such narratives as can be found by clicking on the link above. For the act of speaking on a dead person’s behalf is always done retroactively. As Michelet observed about the writing of history, the living have every right to speak for the dead, articulating their wishes and desires, even if they themselves were not fully aware of them. As evidence of this, consider the declaration in bold at the beginning of the nola.com article: “Alex Chilton’s life in New Orleans was a mystery, and that’s how the Big Star singer wanted it.” Oh yeah? Says who? Why, we the living do. The article also reveals how his “career” is now open to (re)negotiation, and his greatness, however that is to be weighed and measured, shall be posthumously conferred. Certainly Big Star has undergone institutional ratification, that is, has earned institutional distinction (canonization), indicated by its albums being listed on Rolling Stone’s “500 Greatest Albums Of All Time”. I admit I do not know Rolling Stone magazine’s critical assessment of the band’s albums at the time of their initial release in the early 70s, but what their appearance (years later) on the “500 Greatest” list means is that the band’s music has been designated, retroactively, as “genuinely” innovative by one of rock’s sanctioning institutions. That is, the institution has brought the band into the realm of discourse, validating its musical endeavors. In any case, Big Star’s greatness was bestowed posthumously, and hence so, too, has Alex Chilton’s.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Boom 168

It goes without saying that recording technology has had a huge impact on rock music, primarily in terms of performance. Virtually every rap and hip hop group today performs to taped music and/or lip-synchs to prerecorded vocal tracks, an example of how the “live” has been influenced by the recorded. One often refers to a “vocalist” rather than “singer.” In his book, The Recording Angel: Music, Records and Culture From Aristotle to Zappa (Yale UP, Second Ed., 2005), Evan Eisenberg asserts that “Records and radio were the proximate cause of the Jazz Age. . . . Intellectuals and society matrons who hesitated to seek the music out in its lair played the records. . . . [R]ecords not only disseminated jazz, but inseminated it—. . . . [I]n some ways they created what we call jazz” (118). In the same way, digital storage and recording technology shapes contemporary musical creation, and is, in fact, to use Eisenberg’s term, the “proximate cause” of rap and hip hop. An illustration of this idea can be found in the latest issue of Rolling Stone magazine (April 29, 2010), which has a cover story on The Black Eyed Peas. At one point, the article states:

As a songwriter, Will.i.am ascribes to Moore’s Law, the software principle whereby increasingly smaller devices hold increasingly more information. “Right now, every chorus is getting shorter and shorter,” he says. “Soon we’ll be listening to blips. . . .” [A]n apparently simple song, like “Boom Boom Pow,” is actually downright avant-garde. “It has one note,” says Will.i.am. “It says ‘boom’ 168 times. The structure has three beats in one song. It’s not lyrics – it’s audio patterns, structure, architecture.” (56)

More a product of computer software and the recording studio, how are software platforms and recording technologies influencing music itself? For Will.i.am, says the RS article, “songs aren’t discrete works of art but multi-use applications – hit singles, ad jingles, film trailers – all serving a purpose larger than music consumption” (50). In other words, the discrete song is no longer to be contemplated or celebrated as is a work of art, but is instead analogous to Warhol’s serial reproductions of found photographs of famous stars. Remember that Warhol, appropriately, called his studio The Factory.

Friday, April 23, 2010

Cloud Nine

The number nine seems to be highly regarded in our culture. For instance, when we “dress to the nines” we mean we are dressed immaculately, and when we say we’ve got “the whole nine yards” it means we have everything necessary. “Cloud nine” seems to be the perfect place to be. Our word noon, for instance, is derived from Latin nona hora, the ninth hour of the day, that is, is from 2-3:00 p.m. (in the middle ages the monastic day began at 6:00 a.m., therefore the ninth hour began at 2:00 p.m.). The familiar Eveready Battery logo consisting of the black cat jumping through the loop in the number nine is inspired by the colloquial belief in cats having nine lives. In the 1920s, G. I. Gurdjieff introduced the Enneagram (from the Greek ennea, nine and grammos meaning “model”), a guide for understanding the human personality. The symbol of the Bahá’i faith is a nine-pointed star that represents the principle of ecumenicalism. The magic square, within which is nine smaller squares, is a numerical configuration based on the order of three in which every row, horizontal, vertical, or diagonal, has a constant sum. So what is the secret of “Love Potion No. 9”? Why, the power of the number nine of course, representing both magic and ecumenicalism. We can imagine the singer having read Gurdjieff and hence studied the Enneagram, becoming aware of the hidden, negative aspects of his personality. He subsequently seeks an elixir that will both enervate him and restore his sense of wholeness. After he has drunk the gypsy’s love potion, the singer tells us:

I didn’t know if it was day or night
I started kissin’ everything in sight
But when I kissed a cop down on 34th and Vine
He broke my little bottle of Love Potion No. 9

Why, he’s suddenly so high on life, so fond of humankind, he even kisses a cop. That’s the all-inclusive principle of ecumenicalism at its best, and the magical power of nine.

Nine Instances Of Nine:
Alice Cooper – Public Animal #9
The Clovers – Love Potion No. 9
The Beatles – Revolution 9
Emerson, Lake and Palmer – Karn Evil 9
The Jimi Hendrix Experience – If 6 Was 9
Roger Miller – Engine Engine #9
Nena – 99 Luftballons
Damien Rice – 9 Crimes
Bruce Springsteen – Johnny 99

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Looking For A Brighter Day

The media has dutifully reminded us that today is the 40th anniversary of Earth Day. It’s understandable why: the media loves anniversaries because they are a form of ready-made news. Additionally, reporting on the event serves to maintain the illusion that the powerful corporations that own the media are both progressive and eco-friendly, that is, “concerned about the environment.” Around here, as usual – rather like the investors on Wall Street – most people went about their daily lives, the difference today being that many thousands of people around the country chose to drive their automobiles to gatherings where they joined others in advocating for action on climate change and energy reform . . . and then drove home again, all the while concerned about the passage of a new federal mandate regulating greenhouse gases. Nothing is got for nothing, Emerson shrewdly observed, meaning that for anything to be gained, something must be given up, that is, sacrificed. It’s easy to talk change when one actually has had to sacrifice nothing, nor has been required to do so. While there’s certainly nothing wrong with such practices, using high-efficiency outdoor lighting or loading up the washing machine hardly constitutes sacrifice.

As a boy, I grew up about five blocks from the J. Sterling Morton (1832-1902) home in Nebraska City, Nebraska. Morton himself, a politician originally from Michigan, had died decades earlier (he had served as President Grover Cleveland’s Secretary of Agriculture). After his death, for many years, his former Nebraska City mansion served as the summer home for his son, Joy Morton, a wealthy man who had founded the Morton Salt Company. By the time I was born, the Morton residence had become part of Arbor Lodge State Park, an ideal place for kids to play. Because it was a rather large, rolling expanse and heavily wooded, the Park offered ample opportunities for adventure. Moreover, you could tour the mansion for a mere ten cents, an activity I remember doing many times. Growing up as I did in Nebraska City, it was impossible to ignore the signs at the edge of town proudly proclaiming that Nebraska City was the home of Arbor Day. As is well known, Arbor Day was the creation of J. Sterling Morton, and political achievements aside, it remains his most enduring legacy. The first Arbor Day celebration took place in Nebraska on 10 April 1872, in other words, about a hundred years before the first Earth Day celebration. I see no reason to be suspicious of the official story behind the creation of Arbor Day: Morton believed strongly in the principle of conservation, perhaps inspired by the story of “Johnny Appleseed” (born John Chapman) and his deep reverence for the earth and the mythology surrounding the apple. Morton thought, no doubt correctly, that Nebraska’s landscape and economy would benefit from the large-scale planting of trees. Following Appleseed’s example, he began planting orchards (Nebraska City is known for its many apple orchards), shade trees, and windbreaks. He urged others to do the same. Eventually, as a consequence of Morton becoming a member of the Nebraska state board of agriculture, he proposed that a special day be set aside dedicated to tree planting and increasing awareness of the importance of trees. According to the arbor-day.net website, Nebraska’s first Arbor Day “was an amazing success. More than one million trees were planted. A second Arbor Day took place in 1884 and the young state made it an annual legal holiday in 1885, using April 22nd to coincide with Morton’s birthday.”

All 50 American states now have Arbor Day celebrations, although with varying dates in keeping with the local climate. Additionally, in 1970, President Richard Nixon proclaimed the last Friday in April as National Arbor Day. Hence, in contrast to Earth Day, Arbor Day, at least at the state level, encourages individuals to (re)enact the lesson of Johnny Appleseed, reproducing the occupation of the nurseryman. Earth Day requires nothing on the order of plant husbandry, which makes me wonder why it usurped the date originally designated for Arbor Day. In any case, in addition to whatever you did today in recognition of Earth Day, I recommend planting a tree or two. I did; two small Rosebud trees on the bank behind my house. I've always loved those trees, and so visited the local Earl May nursery and purchased a couple. They were small, but so much the better to watch them grow.

Incidentally, the title I gave to this blog comes from Gil Scott-Heron's poem, “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,” for reasons that by now should be clear: conservation is not something the media can truly encourage or influence. Earth Day, like any other anniversary, is merely a convenient and ready-made story that fills the space between commercials.

A Few Ecologically-Minded Tunes:
Crosby & Nash – Wind on the Water
John Denver – Rocky Mountain High
The Grateful Dead – We Can Run
Guided By Voices – Johnny Appleseed
Tom Lehrer – Pollution
Marvin Gaye – Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)
NOFX – Johnny Appleseed
The Pretenders – My City Was Gone
Quicksilver Messenger Service – Fresh Air
The Rascals – A Beautiful Morning
Pete Seeger – God Bless The Grass
Stephen Stills – Ecology Song
Joe Strummer & The Mescaleros – Johnny Appleseed

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Weed Day

In case you didn’t know, yesterday, April 20th or 4/20, was “Weed Day.” 420 is, of course, a coded reference to marijuana use, and in order to observe properly the pot smokers’ national holiday, Walking Shadows released on DVD yesterday Reefer Madness: 75th Anniversary Ultimate Collector’s Edition (cover pictured). Originally released in 1936 as Tell Your Children, the film is celebrated as a classic of anti-marijuana propaganda, depicting innocent (i.e., naïve) high school kids being duped into trying marijuana by unscrupulous pushers. As a consequence of marijuana use, the teens are propelled down a road of vice and—given the fact that such cautionary films are inevitably plotted as an apocalyptic sequence, as a Platonic deviation from the Good—death. Happily, Walking Shadows’ Collector’s Edition includes several bonus shorts, including High on the Range (originally released as Notch Number One, 1924), Betty Boop in Happy You and Merry Me (1936), Marihuana: Sins of Youth (1936), That Funny Reefer Man (1936), the feature length Marijuana: Threat or Menace? (1939), Hemp for Victory (1942), The Pusher (1951), and other shorts. If anyone is interested, several months ago I compiled a chronology of the rise of cannabis culture, available here. But remember: If you smoke it...You will  GO INSANE!

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Beyond Good and Elvis

The word fan is the shortened form of the word fanatic, from the Latin word fānāticus, an individual belonging to a particular temple, from fānum, meaning temple. The fanatic, in contrast to the dilettante—someone having only a casual or superficial interest in an art or discipline, a “dabbler”—is characterized by excessive (obsessive) enthusiasm and deep, uncritical devotion to an art or discipline. I claim no original insight in the observation that the investment of deep emotional energies in a particular person or object—what Freud called cathexis—reveals that fanaticism is actually a form of fetishism.

The connection of fanaticism and fetishism is conveniently revealed in a video currently available on youtube.com that I consider required viewing for anyone interested in the phenomenon, consisting of an excerpt from Thomas Corboy’s short documentary Rock ‘n’ Roll Disciples (1986). A range of Elvis fans are interviewed, including Artie Mentz (an Elvis impersonator), Jenny and Judy Carroll (identical twins who believe they may be Elvis’s illegitimate offspring), and Frankie “Buttons” Horrocks, who has devoted her life to the witnessing and the celebration of Elvis. There’s a moment in the video during which Horrocks observes that no true female Elvis fan denies her deep desire to have had sex with Elvis. As she speaks, she is shown posing with the Elvis statue now standing in Memphis, her hand firmly gripping its crotch. Greil Marcus observes the image “is reminiscent of nothing so much as the statues of Catholic saints that in present-day Europe good Christian women straddle in pagan ecstasy, telling anyone who asks that their mothers said it was a good way to ensure fertility” (Dead Elvis 119)—that is, the image reveals the nature of the relationship between the fan and the fetish object.