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defining shitgaze

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so today, i discovered that i listen to shitgaze. i already liked a whole movement but i guess i didn't read the right blogs or forums or whatever. since when has the internet become a necessary part of musical pretentiousness? there's nothing concrete written about it yet (except for some interview with psychedelic horseshit, who i don't really listen to, who i guess coined it when jokingly talking about themselves), mostly a bunch of tags and arguing, so it's kind of hard to grasp right now. especially when its first use was a total joke, anyway.

anyway, the newer the forum posts get, the more people talk shit about the term "shitgaze," mostly that it's an unnecessary genre for a bunch of bands that only have lo-fi guitar rock in common. but what threw me is, on the last.fm tag page [http://www.last.fm/tag/shitgaze], the second most tagged artists was blank dogs. blank dogs are one of my favorite newer bands. they have a real cool blog [blankdogs.blogspot.com], too.

i never thought of blank dogs as purposely shitty and lo-fi. sure, purposely muddled and weird, but nothing with the crunch or kitsch of other bands thought of as "shitgaze" [the most popular bands that have been called shitgaze right now seem to be no age and times new viking]. what struck me immediately about blank dogs was how the depth of their sound, and how absolutely fucking perfectly calculated their effects were. case in point [LISTEN TO THE VOCALS THEY ALWAYS SOUND LIKE THAT SOOOOOOO GOOD]: [youtube EEihrFQ_85s]

"shitgaze" undoubtedly comes from shoegaze, a mostly-90's genre marked by intricate use of effects and creative guitar noise. i like the term "shitgaze" because, instead of being an arbitrary name to stick on a bunch of bands the same groups of people tend to like [notably the folks over at slitbreeze records], it does describe a unifying and purposeful aesthetic: calculated use of effects and creative guitar noise to create an end-product that sounds muddled and, well, conventionally shitty. in the case of some bands, it just sounds like you're pretending you're broke, leading to the "why do you make this much of an effort to sound like shit" question. but there's so many different, calculated noises you can make within "shit." why can't you make a lot of effort not to just sound like shit, but to sound like that exact shit?

in the case of blank dogs, it's more oversaturated than anything, but still muddled and unintelligible. the aesthetic is only partially an image; mostly, it's an aesthetic all its own. bands like blank dogs being grouped with the rest of shitgaze throw the genre off being purposely broke- and shit-sounding and into "you calling my music purposely shitty is a judgement call on aesthetics" territory.

and sure, doing things just because they're the opposite of what everyone wants is really, really old. but that is exactly why this sort of thing should now be okay.

p.s., i got on this tangent because someone tagged the plot as "shitgaze," which doesn't make that much sense - not too gazey.

anyway, r.i.p. willy graves.

[youtube FqI07ofl1lc]

The Mashed Potato!

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So, I'm kind of obsessed with eventually having a sock hop, and with learning to do the mashed potato:

[youtube mQBKpV9emKc]

Unfortunately, I'm hopelessly awkward. But I'm trying, with the help of some amazing youtube users. Apparently, remaking Hairspray (which I still refuse to see) has made the entire internet obsessed with the Mashed Potato.

There's this one, which is totally jerky but to the point:

[youtube nzGPpPUML94]

And there's this one, which is awkward, longwinded and British but in the long run was more informative:

[youtube KBNDJStgF6Y]

If I eventually have a sock hop, there's some even better general links:

Fiftiesweb appears to have been made by someone who genuinely lived through the 50's. Lots of myth-debunking, song facts, and really to-the-point descriptions - plus she describes what necking and first through third base meant back in the day ("Nice girls didn't go to third base before marriage. Enough said.") Check out the sock hop page!

StreetSwing Dance History Archives is basically a database of dance crazes and their origins. Some tutorial kinda stuff but not always.

Sixties City's dance page is suuuuuper useful. The frug, the watusi, the pony... basically everything. Also, it reveals that the Monster Mash is just the Mashed Potato with monster-like arm waving. SO RAD.

Dance parties, anyone?

55744haroldmaude.jpg

this has been at the top of my vinyl want list for a while.  i found out it got rereleased (it says "NEVER BEFORE RELEASED" but it was totally released in japan).

 some say the soundtrack was never made, but i definitely read that there was a limited run of the soundtrack in japan.  some people have put together their own version of the soundtrack out of mp3's (mostly from footsteps in the dark), but the construction of a soundtrack is usually way more interesting than just compiling.  what audio version of a soundtrack can you think of where the songs are in chronological order from the film?  like a compilation cd, the order is meticulously constructed.  plus, it's good to hold your music, have that physicality, read the liner notes.  too bad $70-200 is too much for me to spend on something like that.  i'd want to listen to it, but i'd be scared to.  what if i scratched it? 

 i'm hoping someone accidently fucks up their cover kinda bad so it falls within a reasonable amount to spend on a record. especially a rerelease.

 i wonder if the rerelease of eliott smith's xo affected the price of the original pressings (i mean, probably still expensive, but maybe now they'll stay at a constant $150ish?).

 [youtube KWSq2zq3os4]

 edit: i found the track listing, and despite what i said earlier it looks like the format they used was chronological/bonus. 

Tracklisting:

Side One: Don’t Be Shy On The Road To Find Out I Wish, I Wish Miles From Nowhere Tea For The Tillerman I Think I See The Light

Side Two: Where Do The Children Play? If You Want To Sing Out, Sing Out If You Want To Sing Out, Sing Out (banjo instrumental)* Trouble Don’t Be Shy (alternate version)* If You Want To Sing Out, Sing Out (instrumental version)*

Bonus 7″ Side A: Don’t Be Shy (demo version)* Side B: If You want To Sing Out, Sing Out (alternate version)*

  • previously unreleased

[track listing source: http://www.cameroncrowe.com/wordpress/?m=200709]

nerd nerd nerd!

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Recently I wrote an essay on Jacques Lacan and The Who's Tommy. What an easy post to make!

The version I have saved and the version I have turned in are slightly different but you can still tell I'm kind of a dork.

Lacan’s Mirror Stage and the Who’s Tommy

In Jacques Lacan’s theories, the “Mirror Stage” marks the creation of an imaginary identity as your coherent, whole self. A baby, at around six months, sees itself in a mirror and is able to point to herself and separate herself from the Other – she forms an identity separate from “The Real,” or the baby blob that’s part of the bigger meaningless universe gunk, and will enter “The Imaginary,” where she’s able to see herself as whole and coherent. The mirror stage is usually reinforced, according to Lacan, by the mother, who will point at the image and affirm it with something like, “yes, that’s you,” or something even more identity-fixing, such as, “look, you’re such a pretty girl.” She will spend the rest of her life forming and trying to achieve this wholeness and coherency, or her “Ideal-I.” This “Ideal-I” will start to move beyond just the idea of imaginary wholeness and coherency as seen in the mirror, and start snowballing, picking up images from surrounding people and images, for example, her parents, or favorite television shows, or Seventeen. The baby, then the child, teenager, and adult, will anticipate achieving this “Ideal-I,” but will, deep down, know that really, she is messy and fragmented, just like everything and everyone else. This will haunt her for the rest of her life.

In The Who’s rock opera Tommy, the protagonist, Tommy, loses his ability for language when he witnesses, depending on whether you’re listening to the album or watching the film, respectively, either his father (who was previously presumed dead in World War One) killing his mother’s lover or his mother’s lover killing his father (for purposes of this essay, I’ll assume the album story). Even at a young age, he realizes he needs to suppress this memory in order to not break up his family. As a result he becomes, to the world, blind, deaf and dumb, although one can infer it’s all psychosomatic from, first of all, the trigger being his mother telling him he didn’t see anything, and second, his fascination with mirrors. However, when not looking in a mirror, he doesn’t perceive anything through sight or sound, and has no use of language. Once one leaves “The Real,” one cannot return, and at five years old, Tommy would have been past the Mirror Stage for at least four years. But from Tommy’s fascination of mirrors and lack of language, one can assume that Tommy, after witnessing his father’s murder, regressed as far back as he could go without reuniting with The Real, and became perpetually stuck in the Mirror Stage.

What’s most notable about Tommy’s regression, from a Lacanian standpoint, is his lack of language. According to Lacan, you lose the Real when you enter into language. Tommy, having already entered into language before becoming dumb, could not retreat entirely back to the Real; rather, he’s haunted by it, and is probably constantly staring in the mirror for fear of disappearing. Tommy has less moved more toward the Real as much as he’s completely rejected the Symbolic, which is the structure of language itself. The Symbolic and the Imaginary overlap somewhat, but mostly, the Symbolic is marked by becoming a speaking subject, or fully being able to articulate yourself as an “I,” and others as symbols. With a lack of comprehension of symbols, his blindness and deafness is less literal, physical blindness and deafness as much as having no conceptualization of signifiers. When he cannot separate himself from his mother, or a pinball machine, or his father, he’s left fumbling around in a world of inseparable gunk, but with the demands and identity that come along with moving away from the Real. Lacan says that language is always identified by lack; you don’t need language in the Real because the Real is all fullness. Therefore, Tommy has started to feel lack, but has no way to demand, or even articulate, what he needs.

His family, having already gone through Lacan’s stages of development, is concerned for Tommy’s lack of passage through them. Lacan discusses that part of fixing your identity into your “Ideal-I” is fixing your desires and feelings, e.g., fixing your gratitude toward your secretary into Administrative Professionals Week. In “Christmas,” Tommy’s mother and father have learned to fix their religious desires through one holiday, and use Christmas as an excuse to be concerned about Tommy’s lack of ability to accept Jesus, and therefore his entry into Heaven: “But Tommy doesn’t know what day it is/He doesn’t know who Jesus was or what praying is/How can he be saved/from the eternal grave?” Theoretically, Tommy could grab at a Christmas tree and notice there are pine needles in the house, and have that trigger a memory of Christmas from, say, age four. But with a lack of even the most basic symbols, he can’t move onto the more advanced parts of the Symbolic, like fixing desires as part of turning the imaginary self into an “impenetrable armor.” As a last-ditch effort, Tommy’s father takes him to a lady of the night to make him grow up – as part of the deal, she gives him hallucinogenic drugs, saying, “your boy won’t be a boy no more/young but not a child.” By Lacan’s definitions of adulthood, this would mean he would settle into the Symbolic. But alas, this doesn’t work. Tommy continues starting at mirrors and his parents give up, until Tommy discovers pinball.

Being deaf, blind and dumb, Tommy’s success at pinball makes him an overnight celebrity. He collects disciples and corporate sponsorship, which Tommy, having no sense of the symbolic to recognize these followers as an Other, doesn’t really notice. His parents, however, having stepped into the world of materialism long ago, do. As a result, his family becomes very wealthy, and Tommy gets a medical specialist who says he can “cure” Tommy. He can’t, exactly. But Tommy’s suppressed subconscious reaches out to them in “See Me/Feel Me,” which speaks to Lacan’s dislike of repression. In “Smash the Mirror,” Tommy is eventually “cured” when his mother smashes a mirror he’s staring into in her frustration, since he pays so much attention to the mirror and none to her. In the usual Mirror Phase, the mother reinforces the Imaginary by pointing at the image that isn’t actually the baby, just an image, and affirming it. Tommy experiences a reversal of the Mirror Stage, in that his mother rejects Tommy’s imaginary self.

Ironically, at this point, Tommy becomes a cult figure, and his “enlightenment” contributes strongly to others’ senses of “Ideal-I,” i.e., he becomes a mirror himself. Tommy, no longer needing a mirror or having a fear of disappearing, appeals to the masses desiring a fortress, or an unbreakable sense of whole, complete self, particularly Sally Simpson, who sneaks out of her house to see one of his “sermons,” only to be thrown from the stage by security, getting a gash on her face. This could be symbolic of the fear of breaking or disappearing when you don’t have your whole, imaginary “Ideal-I” in sight.

Tommy asks his followers to deafen, blind and mute themselves to gain spiritual enlightenment – presumably, to eliminate their use of symbols and enter the Real, which eventually proves to be impossible for the masses. Eventually, after having been exploited by Tommy’s family and associates who seek commercial gain, Tommy’s followers reject him in the song “We’re Not Gonna Take It,” in an ultimate testament to the permanence of the Symbolic phase.

Tommy, however, achieves a new level of spiritual enlightenment after being abandoned by his disciples, which I take to be a sense of the Real while still having the Symbolic. “Right behind you/I see the millions/On you/I get opinions/From you/I get the story” could be a declaration of fragmented individuality inside the unified blob in a way Lacan wouldn’t think was even possible.

[youtube Z_am82sYFXU]

ALSO NOTABLE: that is Ann-Margaret who had a semi-successful pop music career in the early 60's, but afterwards has mostly been in a lot of musicals, e.g., Tommy, Newsies.

I finished The Book of Other People last night. It was definitely worth it, if only for Chris Ware's piece alone, which can only really speak for itself. Sample:

Jordan Wellington Lint

Other highlights:

  • "Frank" by A.L. Kennedy: When it starts out, you think it's going to be a little standard and boring, but ends up being completely honest, desperate and heartbreaking and makes you never ever want to get old.
  • "Gideon" by ZZ Packer: Amazing character voice. Reminds you of everything you hate about college - not in the homework sense, but in the people are assholes sense.
  • "Magda Mandela" by Hari Kunzru: Imagine if Nick Hornby wrote a sketch for Mad TV about a loud neighbor in a lime green thong with a fierce sense of entitlement. I know, it's hard.
  • "The Monster" by Toby Litt: Adorable.
  • "Soleil" by Vendela Vida: Captures being eleven in a really, really uncomfortable way - not an interacting with other eleven-year-olds kind of way, but an interacting with drunk, party-hopping thirty-somethings kind of way.
  • "Roy Spivey" by Miranda July: Miranda July does it again. Surreal, yet realistic.

Also, did Snap Crackle Pop in the middle of the day for the first time ever! I was way less dumb. I'm going to try to play more early garage. Hopefully, I'll play some Los Saicos next week:

[youtube 6ypoFJCQwBU]

People cite Los Saicos as the first punk rock band ever but people seem to do that with every garage band from 64-74 (including the Sonics) so mayyyyybe not. Apparently they had their own national TV show in Peru.

Norm

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Yesterday I found out that Norm Bobrow has six weeks to live.

It took a little while to hit me. Not only was I nursing a serious hangover when I found out, but Norm dying is like Santa Claus dying in that he was around every Christmas and I was never sure he was real in the first place. But I never helped Santa Claus with his aging computer, and Santa Claus never believed in me back.

I first met Norm when I was around fourteen. I wore gigantic pants and glitter makeup every day and I was going to be a rock star. Norm knew I was going to be a rock star. When I decided to get into journalism, Norm told my mother that he saw me as a TV news anchor. He came to see my high school plays. Once, in a letter, he told me I should be a cocktail waitress in a “classy joint,” because I am a classy lady. In retrospect, it’s kind of weird that he saw all this in me, as I think everyone else in my family sphere saw me as a little raggedy, loud and overweight.

Norm changes the subject now whenever I bring up the memoirs he was writing, called Sang with Louis Armstrong, Slept with Charlie Parker. Which is true. He sang onstage with Louis Armstrong, and he crashed with Charlie Parker, or the other way around.  This is because Norm is a Big Deal.

Norm started out in New York, which you can tell really easily from his slight Brooklyn accent and how his feet tap like he’s listening to a good record all the time as he goes on long tirades introducing new life characters like he was introducing them at a cocktail party. He managed Broadway talent, most notably Pat Suzuki, who played one of the lead roles in Flower Drum Song. The biggest song to come out of that musical was “I Enjoy Being a Girl,” which she sang, and my mother used to sing to me when I was a kid, especially after dentists’ appointments (“and my teeth aren’t teeth but pearls”):

[youtube BqXBkC-u--k]

Norm later relocated to Seattle, where he worked as a journalist (he sent me an article he wrote in the 50’s about how what America needs is a woman for a president), a jazz promoter, a DJ, and a club owner. Articles on the history of jazz call him an “impresario.”

Norm was a friend of my grandmother’s husband Tom. He attached himself to my family pretty quickly, becoming a staple at holidays and even informal gatherings, and everyone accepted and embraced it except Norm himself. I think it never really occurred to him that we consider him family. He’d always discourage us from helping him with anything or picking him up from his apartment on the way to Thanksgiving or Christmas because he didn’t want to be a bother. But that’s what my family does. “We will stop and see him on our way home on Sunday,” said my grandmother in the email she sent out, telling us the news, “although he's not sure he wants to see us.”

In Seattle, he owned a club, I think called the Colony. He was briefly in a vocal group called the Signatures, which I didn’t find out until I searched the Internet for his name. He put on jazz shows every Sunday. He still went to jazz shows all the time once old age set in – once he ran into my high school principal at one.

The last time I saw Norm, it was at a Christmas Eve get-together at my aunt and uncle’s house in Seattle. My cousin Michael asked him if he “ever smoked grass, back in the day.” Without missing a beat or even an awkward flinch he said that only jazz musicians did that back in the day, and we talked about radio. He liked that my favorite band at the time was the Supremes. For his long autobiographical rants he went on, he really didn’t like to talk about himself.

I want to write more about Norm. But this is long already. I want to visit him and bring a tape recorder. But I don’t know if he’d be embarrassed.

This is one of the pictures I could find in a pinch - it's from a local singer's (I think) website, and the caption is "Maia and Northwest jazz legend Norm Bobrow."

I haven't played this on the air yet because it felt boring to me but now I feel like I need to learn this backup dance. Immediately.

[youtube my7WTG2OJUo]

When I was at Seattle Central I took History of American Popular Music with James Cauter. He'd always throw in when someone was dead, when they died and how, always really awkwardly and bluntly.  I didn't learn this from Cauter, but Bobby Fuller died right after "I Fought the Law" became a top 10 hit. He was found in his car covered in gasoline and "wounds" (oh Wikipedia and your specificity). His death was ruled a suicide, from drinking gasoline.

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