if i look back, i am lost
Janaina Medeiros
Stranger Things
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Mike Driver
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
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Sade Olutola
titsay
shark vs the universe
untitled
Kaledo Art
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
JVL
cherry valley forever
★
taylor price
#extradirty
seen from Argentina
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@anniezaleski
And I’m not a narrative writer, essentially [I’m] more impressionistic. That’s a generous way of describing it. [Laughs.] Abstract is another way. But on the other hand, I believe that words can open doorways for people if you don’t allow meaning to be too obstructive.
I talked to Neil Finn...
Michael Stipe, opening for Patti
When my friend Annie in Ohio said, “Maybe Michael Stipe will be there tonight,” and I responded with “Stipe is always at these shows,” I did not expect to be sending her a photograph of Michael Stipe performing onstage a few minutes later.
He opened the evening with what he termed as karaoke - he had a karaoke video playing the words center stage, facing the audience, which would have worked in a club but was sadly lost in the Beacon, but I loved SO MUCH that here Michael Stipe is trying to stage a multimedia experience in his small opening set.
He played a set of covers: Neil’s “Old Man” (with a “Venus In Furs” snippet at the end-”I am tired/I am weary/etc”), Boy George’s “The Crying Game,” “People Are Strange,” “Imagine” (”May god forgive me,” he said before that one), and an utterly perfect “All The Young Dudes” complete with “I’ve been wanting to do this for years.” It was sweet, affectionate, enjoyable, even if my reaction both times has been, WRITE SOME MORE SONGS, GET A BAND, GO ON TOUR, WE MISS YOU.
(I knew Peter would never stop, I thought Michael was done with the form and was bored with rock and roll and we’d never see him onstage again, I remain bemused that we haven’t seen a Mike Mills solo album yet.)
protips for thinkpieces, pt. 2
Here is a piece about Joanna Newsom that I liked a lot more, until I didn’t. It’s another piece of music criticism with an explicitly progresive (or “social-justicey,” or whatever) bent, which is in vogue in criticism these days. This isn’t new – Ellen Willis was known as a feminist writer and a rock critic, decades before any of us were born. But this is also something I have an ambivalent relationship with, particularly in how it intersects with media-celebrifying of the 25 Under 25 sort (and what happens to the 26+ Over 26, or for that matter Also Under 25), and in how there becomes a party line, which becomes the party line of critical thought, from which any deviation is #problematic. At its worst it’s not a good scene for discussion or ideas; a lot of smart critics come off sounding either like foaming reactionaries or… well, kind of glib.
So, this piece: despite never being able to get into Newsom, I mostly agree with its point. But a lot of the execution seemed kind of glib. It’s little things, many of them. One: “it speaks volumes that men love PJ Harvey, she of the deep timbre” (has the writer heard White Chalk? Or seen the endless sexualization in the press of Harvey and her sort of blunt music, which perhaps might speak a few more volumes about why men love her?) Two: the claim that people expect Newsom to be Taylor Swift (does anyone, anywhere, actually think that?) Three: The claim that Men Are OK with “twee male singing voices” after listing a lot of voices like Bob Dylan and Tom Waits and Axl Rose who are very much not twee (so… you’re claiming that the bastions of male-approved artists are Owl City and A Great Big World?) Four: The praise of Newsom for never “selling out to a major label” and “not pulling a Liz Phair,” a lot of unexamined assumptions.
Five, though, I have thoughts on, that I’ve been afraid to mention for some time because it goes against female-music-writer gospel. Namely: Somewhere along the line it got ossified into the progressive stance that comparing female artists to other female artists is sexist. This is undoubtedly a phenomenon; how much of a phenomenon is perhaps debatable. (Here’s one for the data journalists: Mine a bunch of music reviews, by male and female artists, break down the comparisons to other artists, and get some stats onn how they play out. I’m not sure the answer would confirm anyone’s hypothesis. This includes mine.) This started with as specific comparisons that were lazy and overdone, then gradually became “comparisons to other female artists are sexist.” (Sometimes it isn’t just female artists; the piece takes issue with comparing Joanna Newsom to Joni Mitchell and Kate Bush [”male critics compare her to other female artists to demean her”], and then it takes issue with comparisons to Bob Dylan and Fairport Convention [”remember, ladies, behind every great woman there are decades of greater men”], which prompts the question: who the fuck, exactly, is allowed to be compared to her?) I have passed the point of disagreeing with this and now find it poisonous, for a number of reasons:
* It removes female artists from the critical conversation. Comparisons in music reviews are among the most frequently hated-upon aspects of music writing, which I’ve never understood. This is part of how the brain processes new information: comparing it to that which it already knows. When you’re writing for a paid audience you have obligations to that audience, sure, but it’s also nice to think your audience has a sense of curiosity and the ability to read an unfamiliar name and want to learn more, rather than condescending to them by presenting then nothing new. The best criticism, to me, occurs when writers weave endless webs of recommendations from their upbringing and tastes and loves, both popular and obscure, no boundaries whatsoever, just nodes leading to endless nodes of artists; and it’s not quite like knowing another person but it’s in that neighborhood and it’s beautiful. (It’s also more personal and less mediated than music recommendations ever are, anywhere else.)
Less personally, comparisons are also part of how artists are canonized; I poke fun at endless Kate Bush comparisons a lot, but would her comeback after over a decade be so warmly received without what amounts to years and years of buildup? When you call comparisons to female artists invalid, you cut off these nodes. And because it’s not as if male artists are compared to women en masse, you cut them off from the one place they reliably exist. Where would I be if I hadn’t read about Bush in music reviews? About Kristin Hersh? About PJ Harvey? Not a fan of theirs, is where.
* It removes from the critical conversation those whose primary inspirations for their music are other women. Artists are inspired by other artists. That’s part of being an artist. And sometimes it happens that all those other artists are women. Elite Gymnastics, for instance, has gone on record talking about building a whole new music canon of Tori Amos and Sarah McLachlan and the Spice Girls. (Which was others’ canon first, but let’s ignore that.) Citing other artists would be false speculation; it’d be bad criticism. The subtly insidious thing about this is that comparisons to male artists just pass without note: they are unmarked, mundane.
* Similarly, it removes from the critical conversation those whose primary reference points for music are women, who unsurprisingly tend to be… other women. I grew up listening to almost exclusively female artists, and lived happily in a world where everything reminded me of them: hyperacute sense of little turns of vocal phrasing that reminded me of Bush, to the second in the song, bitter-sharp-funny lines that sound like something Kristin would write, poised minimalist incisions that could be Stina Nordenstam. Then I became a professional music critic and suddenly all of this became invalid. The band references it seemed non-notable to make in reviews both felt fake (I wasn’t really reminded of any of that stuff – I didn’t grow up with it, the emotional framework wasn’t there) and gave me a nice heavy chunk of impostor syndrome that’s still there, because my takeaway, often from women, was: all the music you grew up listening to is invalid, the way you thought about it was wrong, and you’re not allowed to talk about it. This is, of course, bullshit. But it’s what comes of prescriptive rules.
Honestly, it feels like opposite day sometimes: you can flood a reader with names upon names upon names of female artists and commentary about their art, just bombard them with it, all but force them to listen and learn more about these women if they don’t already know – and then have this called “sexist.” But such is the nature of party lines.
Yes, yes, yes to all of this.
My Response: I Love Wrigley Field, But as a Wheelchair User, I Sure Wish It Was Easier to Navigate
First off, bravo to this CityLab piece on accessibility at Wrigley Field. It was really well done -- I'd actually be curious if the Cubs have a response to it. A lot of what this author wrote about was familiar, since I was at Wrigley in late August for the Foo Fighters show. I wanted to share my experience, as I had a similar -- albeit much better -- one. Getting into the stadium, yes, was a bit treacherous, since when we went, most of the area around the stadium was still under heavy construction. However, we got in there okay, and just inside the main gate were stopped by a worker, who asked us if we needed assistance to our seats. Since our tickets were wayyyy up in the upper deck, we said sure. They directed us to an area full of quasi-wheelchairs (the streamlined ones favored by some airports), and someone pushed me allll the way up the ramps to our seats. Because, yes, as the CityLab article notes, the elevators are out. Our attendant was wonderful -- and when we finally got to our seats, they noted where we were and said they'd come and get me when the show was over. By a stroke of dumb luck, we actually happened to be behind home plate, by the single-user disabled bathroom I believe the story mentions, with a security member fiercely guarding the door. Yes -- that's *exactly* what should happen, and bravo. I watched her direct people toward other bathrooms for the entire show. I got tired early, so we left the show a little early. We asked security, who was able to radio and get our guy up to us, and he pushed me down the ramps. This, admittedly, was kind of scary, since they had to go down these BACKWARDS -- meaning, the attendant was taking giant steps backwards, and I was facing the way from which we came the entire time. (I'm afraid of heights and roller coasters, so I was a little anxious.) But we got down safely, and got a cab with no problem. What the author noted about ticket upgrades, however, rang true: I've been to MLB games in both St. Louis and Cleveland with a friend who uses a wheelchair, and the disabled seats are not cheap. I'm not sure if the tickets cost any more than others on the level -- it's been a few years -- but the accessible seats aren't more affordable. Asking someone to pay extra for an upgrade because existing tickets aren't accessible I'm pretty sure is illegal, for the record -- kudos to the author for refusing to pay. Adapting older buildings and upgrading them to modern ADA standards is one of the most pressing challenges we face, but is also one that's extremely difficult. I'm glad a story like this exists, to highlight that while we're getting better, we still have a long way to go.
2016 Rock Hall Nominees: The Smiths
They defined a sound and a style that was simultaneously stripped-down and eloquent, powerfully expressive of their fervent belief that everyday people – which is why they were called the Smiths – lived emotional lives of great drama, passion and meaning.
Learn more the Smiths at the Library and Archives. And don’t forget to vote for your favorite nominees!
Alt-weekly employees especially recognize the distinct un-marketability of their chosen model. We did unpopular things. We wrote about unknowns we thought should be better known. This is not a recipe for clicks. We wanted clicks, of course. Clicks are nice. Clicks equal readers. But we wanted them on our terms. We put bleeping, blooping sound experimentalist Charles Cohen on the cover and implored you to check out his stuff. Those who did: We love you. We really do. Those who didn't: Enjoy your grim, dim, dystopian hellscape, you monsters of entropy, you horrible, horrible wretches. Kidding, obviously.
Sums up the tension inherent at most alt-weeklies to a tee. From the final CityPaper issue.
Still, what his version of 1989 does best is illustrate the strength of the source material. With the radio-ready gloss stripped away, these songs compare to the best moments in Swift’s back catalog. For fans, this isn’t a new revelation: Despite the sleeker production, Taylor’s 1989 themes didn’t stray that far from her roots, just reflected the fact that she’s matured. Adams will receive a reputation boost and a boatload of new Twitter followers thanks to the support of loyal Swifties, which is completely deserved. But his 1989 is also a stark reminder that Swift’s songwriting continues to deserve respect and kudos.
I wrote this in my The A.V. Club review of the Ryan Adams version of "1989," and I've now seen bits and pieces of this be taken out of context several times, used as ammo that it's an example of mansplaining Taylor's album to her, or somehow disrespectful to her. It's not, and isn't meant to be, and here's why: To Taylor fans and stans--of which there are many--it's a given that she's a great songwriter and writes her own stuff (both on her own and with collaborators). She doesn't need Ryan Adams to make her work valuable. (That's also my stance: I'm a fan of hers and have been for years.) These pieces critical of a lot of the critical consensus are operating under the assumption that it's a given, a truism, that she's a respected songwriter. And so critics (like myself) stating that Ryan's "1989" is illumating the quality of the songwriting is somehow viewed as an affront to her. However, since she released "1989," I've seen an increase in the accusations that she's somehow less authentic because she: a) has a boatload of co-songwriters; b) has worked with Max Martin; c) went full-on pop. Read two such pieces this week, in fact. To many other people, it's *not* a given that Taylor deserves respect and kudos for her songwriting talent. Because her songs are cloaked in different sounds, production styles and done with collaborators, they're somehow less valuable. Or she's some puppet of Max Martin or something. Which is insulting and ridiculous to her: A great song is great from its foundation on up, no matter the decoration it's given. Great songs morph and change in the hands of different performers, and gain layers of meaning and accumulate emotional and historical context over time. (Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" springs to mind.) Ryan's version of "1989" is great for different reasons than Taylor's "1989." But it's not an either/or proposition, that one album being good negates the other's quality. And so pointing out that his version is doing some interesting things with the source material, and illustrates what great songs they are, isn't meant to be a diss or diminishing. It's a compliment to her, that she put together a batch of really great songs that still sound great, no matter how they're interpreted or performed, or who's performing them. That she's still a songwriter at heart has gotten obscured in the "1989" conversation, and I was trying to point out that this is still the case. In hindsight, I guess I would've added in a sentence or two to my original review, perhaps alluding to how perception of her has changed, and noting that it's sad that we even have to point out that her songwriting does deserve respect, since that used to be the focus of her music, and it's not anymore. But c'est la vie, right?
Hopes & Fears assembled four advocates for music venue accessibility to discuss the complex issues people with disabilities face in the realm of live music, and what we can do to create change.
AZ: There’s still the perception, at least in America, that because the ADA [Americans with Disabilities Act] exists, that the work is done, so we don’t need to do anything else, because we have this law that protects people. The unfortunate thing is, there are places everywhere that are still ignoring the rules and regulations. Because this was passed 25 years ago, a lot of people think, “Oh, they have all their rights now. Everything’s good.” Nothing could be further from the truth.
Honored to be a part of this.
You know? They went ahead and laid me off
Today I was laid off at my job, along with almost the entire editorial staff of Radio.com. I was the editor of Radio.com, a part of CBS Radio, which is part of a division of CBS called CBS Local. CBS is a very large corporation. I don’t know where Les Moonves worked but if I did, trust me, I probably would have slipped several prog and mathcore mix CDs under his door.
We produced countless interviews with pop, country, and classic rock artists, we worked with major and indie labels on the promotion of new bands, and ran hundreds of reported stories and features that ranged from politically charged to bracingly personal to wholly irreverent. We worked with what we had and I couldn’t be prouder of what we accomplished.
If you don’t know the work of Shannon Carlin, Courtney Smith, Annie Reuter, Kevin Rutherford, Scott Sterling and Kurt Wolff, please send me or them an email. These are some of the most wonderful people I have ever had the pleasure of working with. They are smart, inquisitive, well-read, emotionally honest and infinitely talented writers and producers. Hire them immediately.
I asked why they were letting us all go, and was told that they were switching from “original content to aggregated content.” So, well, good luck with all that.
Thank you to everyone who has supported me, given me work, talked me down from the edge, suffered through my g-chat jeremiads, and fav’d my idiot tweets.
I’m very excited for whatever is next. If you need me, I can be reached at [email protected].
Cheers,
-Jeremy
Does anybody actually enjoy aggregated content? A serious question.
In 2004 Sub Pop released a record by a mysterious band named Frausdots. I knew who was involved because I had gotten an email from Ric Menck saying I should hear this record and that it was going to be a monster. I knew it involved Brent Rademaker, who at the time was in country-rock...
This is a fantastic read about an underrated album.
“Single Ladies” synced up with the DuckTales theme song.
I don’t know how this bitch does it, it’s like the Rosetta Stone of choreography.
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#BeyonceAlwaysOnBeat
Streetwise, the 1985 documentary on Seattle street kids by husband and wife duo Martin Bell and Mary Ellen Mark
Documentary photographer Mary Ellen Mark died yesterday. She was 75. A number of people I interviewed for my book cited Streetwise for its raw portrayal of the darker side of early-’80s Seattle. The entire doc is on YouTube.
I wrote this ranking/remembrance of "Monster." Everybody has albums they hold dear due to seismic life events, and this record probably went along with my first such event. In 1994, I was 14 and facing life-/body-altering surgery in St. Louis. A selective dorsal rhizotomy, to be specific, a procedure whose premise (snipping nerves to remove spasticity) was a shot at improved physical activity and normalcy. I use normalcy not to slight any group--or to infer that my life quality to that point was poor--but because at the time, that's all I longed for: to be the kind of person who fit in better. Of course, at the time, I already had no shot of that. My love of music was already bordering on obsessive, and the groups I was into--the Smiths and R.E.M.--were on the edge of weird in my school. In relation to R.E.M., I had started with some Columbia House purchases of the gimmes ("Out Of Time," "Eponymous"), snagged a cassette of "Automatic For The People" and then gone backwards to "Murmur" and the like. But "Monster" was the first R.E.M. album due to be released that I could anticipate and feverishly seek out news about. This promo cycle coincided with me having a lot of time on my hands. Post-surgery, my job was to recover and rehabilitate myself, which involved 4x weekly physical therapy, auxiliary stretching and strength exercises, and not much leaving the house. I needed to learn how to walk all over again, how to move, how to re-train my muscles, to try to erase old pathways and create new ones. For a 14-year-old with perfectionist tendencies, it was certainly a lot of pressure (something I never realized until years later). And so in between this self-improvement, I read a lot and watched a lot of TV, specifically anything music-related our cable company would dish up, and talked to a few people on the phone. The summer was a weird one: I hadn't told many people I was even having this surgery. In hindsight, I think I was embarrassed to tell my friends. Or maybe I just didn't want to point out my differences even more, or make things awkward--and when you're just going into high school, just about anything can make a friendship complicated. I knew I would start high school the following fall using a wheelchair. (I had always walked in the past.) That was going to be weird enough--I didn't need anything else to make my life even stranger and more foreign to me or other people. And so it was with this backdrop of that I heard the first track from "Monster," "What's The Frequency, Kenneth?" It was either the MTV video premiere or on the radio, I'm sure. A few weeks later, "Monster" itself arrived; the day it was released, my copy was waiting for me on our kitchen table when I arrived home from school. (Thanks, Mom!) This record became a soundtrack to much of my fall physical therapy regimen and home exercise program, both of which continued when i was in school. I still remember being in my parents' living room on the tan-beige carpeting, warm sun streaming into the room, and working on stretching and strenghtening as "Monster" played in the background on the stereo. Maybe it's the orange cover or the visuals the band used, but that album to me is bright, striking color--oranges, yellows, blues, greens. It was a pivotal album in R.E.M.'s career that happened to coincide with one of the most pivotal moments of my own life to date. I can't pretend I understood much of what the record was trying to say then, but that's okay. I loved the mystery of those lyrics and messages, and the fire burning in the belly of the album. When you're 14/15, you can still hear new sounds and styles, and have your mind blown; unfamiliarity is still a possibility. To me, the glam/punk/askew nature was different and inspiring. It resonated with me, as someone who felt so alien in her own body at the time. (Few 15-year-olds feel comfortable in their skin; throw in a major surgery, and you can imagine the confusion.) Nobody expected R.E.M. to make a record like this -- that they did and it sold millions of copies was a triumph of nonconformity over blandness and normalcy. To a kid who never felt like she fit in, "Monster" was a comfort, an inspiration and a validation.
Malfunkshun
In We’re No. 1, The A.V. Club examines a song or an album that went to No. 1 on the Billboard charts to get to the heart of what it means to be popular in pop music, and how that concept has changed over the years. In this installment, we cover Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start The Fire,” which went to
Excellent piece on this song.
I worked hard on this one!
I have some pop music cover suggestions for @taylorswift
From Janet Jackson's "Escapade" to Elvis Costello's "Veronica," these 1989 tunes are asking for a Swiftian revamp
I haven’t even thought about this band in YEARS. Randomly popped into my head today.
This.
