Monday, July 07, 2008

What Do Unicorns, the Tooth Fairy, and a Good Start To the Week Have in Common?

I'm not Catholic, so why do I insist on beginning every day with merciless psychic self-flagellation like this? Nothing prepares you to finish that first cuppa coffee and face the world like:
Global mitigation [of climate change, fossil-fuel consumption, and imbalanced, unsustainable development] ...would be tacitly abandoned (as, to some extent, it already has been) in favor of accelerated investment in selective adaptation for Earth's first-class passengers. ... If this seems unduly apocalyptic, consider that most climate models project impacts that will uncannily reinforce the present geography of inequality. ...The current ruthless competition between energy and food markets, amplified by international speculation in commodities and agricultural land, is only a modest portent of the chaos that could soon grow exponentially from the convergence of resource depletion, intractable inequality, and climate change. The real danger is that human solidarity itself, like a West Antarctic ice shelf, will suddenly fracture and shatter into a thousand shards.
"If this seems unduly apocalyptic," he says. The true horror is that it never does. These kinds of articles evoke a soulquake the magnitude of which I never feel when reading about good ol' fashioned murder, war, crimes against humanity, or even a single natural disaster. Because these kinds of articles are a meticulous mesh of every apocalyptic fear, self-identified moral shortcoming, and paralysing neurosis a human can have: class guilt; the hollowness of good intentions; the futility of good deeds; binarily symbiotic twin lifestyles of (1) victimhood & (2) exploitation or an accessory thereof; every filmic nightmare from 28 Days Later to Mad Max becoming a reality (coupled with the sneaking suspicion that you wouldn't cut it as either Cilian Murphey or Mel Gibson); and all Four Horsemen riding through for good measure.

And of those offering solutions (and not merely pointing to the myriad portents of DOOM), it's hard to delineate between bold, outside-the-box thinking and batshit lunacy. Seriously, how dire a sign is it that a proposal initially submitted as satire a mere three years ago is now being peddled as po-faced pragmatism? Our species is careening towards one of the two fundamental options posted by that extraterrestrial trio.

Anyway... a couple of days ago, a friend forwarded me this speech by Herbert Meyer, out of the sneaking suspicion that it was, in common parlance, bullshit. Indeed it was, as I outlined in an e-mail that bears re-printing here. It's hardly my most eloquent & exhaustively researched rebuttal, but that's hardly ever the case with e-mails hammered out after midnight. Begin transmission:

[Meyer's speech is] interesting & provocative, for sure, but it's mostly bullshit. The only thing the guy gets indisputably right is the grim prognosis for the Japanese economy based on its aging demographics & resistance to increased immigration. To take a closer look at the issues...

1. The War in Iraq

No, the war is not fucking going well. By any standard. From the $3 trillion price tag, to a minimum of 100,000 dead Iraqis; from the neglect of the Afghan war (which just passed the Iraq war in monthly casualties for the first time in May), to the skyrocketing rate of terrorist activity with the war as an excuse; from the total depletion of America's global political capital, to the increased prestige Iran has enjoyed strictly out of saying, "I told you so..."

Obama as president is possibly the best thing that could happen for US-Iranian relations: if Obama follows through on his promise of an open dialogue with Iran, then Ahmadinejad is robbed of his "Great Satan" boogieman. (Never mind that Ahmadinejad has no say in Iran's foreign policy and thus isn't the threat he's made out to be - America needs its own boogieman, after all, and bin Laden's no good, because to invoke his name would only remind the public that he's not been captured.)

As for the threat posed by radical Islam... I quote Carlin: "Certain groups of people - Muslim fundamentalists, Christian fundamentalists, Jewish fundamentalists, and just plain guys from Montana - are going to continue to make life in this country very interesting for a long time." The fact is that Christian fundies pose a more direct threat to the civil liberties of any American citizen than some Koran-thumping fist-shaker. But then, I believe to be religious at all is to be radical in a dangerous way.

2. China

Don't believe the hype about China being the next global hegemon. It's a country that was overpopulated to begin with (fuckin' Mao) and has since lost a half-billion of its agricultural workforce to cities with incomplete infrastructures and no effective environmental controls. Then factor in a burgeoning middle-class that's driving the prices of life's essentials out of the reach of the massive working & poor classes in both China and its neighbouring new kid on the G8(+), India. The countries won't be able to support their own bulk.

This isn't necessarily a bad thing: do we want the next superpower to be a country that has managed to combine the worst elements of capitalism and totalitarianism? People who believe the "free market" will literally bring freedom with it obviously don't understand that the market needn't be free if one entity owns the whole fuckin' market.

3. Demographics & Birth Rates

This is where I start to see "culture," "Juedo-Christianity," "birthrates," etc. as coded language for outright racism. Meyer is half-right when he says a spike in anti-Semitism indicates a perfect storm of political instability & economic struggle; the other half of the truth is that general xenophobia - not just anti-Semitism - rise rapidly during troubled times.

Hence, the recent anti-Roma riots in Italy and refugee camp slaughters in South Africa. Meanwhile, hate crimes against Latino-Americans have increased over the past year as Neocons use the illegal immigration issue to galvanize their (bigoted) voting block. They pulled this same stunt in '04 screaming bloody hell over gay marriage.

In fact, far from diluting or swallowing their "host" culture, there's much evidence to indicate that immigrants assimilate faster & more completely today than ever before. This precisely why, when Lou Dobbs or Glenn Beck talk about undocumented workers or how Germany will be "a Muslim nation" in fifteen years, all I hear is thinly-veiled WASP-supremacy.

Another question is whether the goal of culture is to preserve & maintain certain linguistic/behavioral/religious/culinary dogma; or if it's to be a fluid, organic, evolving fusion of diverse influences. I'd argue ardently for the latter, but that's a whole doctoral thesis, so I'll save it for later.

Meanwhile - what the fuck was that about euthanasia becoming "popular" throughout Europe? On what fucking evidence can he make that claim? And high birth rates in the developing world are nothing to laud. In India, for example, of the 26 million children born annually, 2.1 million will die before they reach the age of five. Of the surivors, over 26% will live in poverty, which is set at a standard of living under $0.40/day. Boy, I bet they're thrilled to know they're out-breeding those smug Occidental motherfuckers!

4. American Business

For starters, I hardly see how the cost of benefits, healthcare, insurance, etc. becoming the individual responsibility of every worker will benefit the economy. It's one thing if white collar middle managers, lawyers, and investment bankers can afford to opt out of & in to whatever coverage & benefits they like, but how will service industry staff & blue collar workers (nevermind the invisible keystone of undocumented workers) possibly afford it?

Secondly, Meyer is correct that statistics (and especially how the media report them) regarding the economy can be misleading. True, if the GM cafeteria staff switched affiliations to Marriott, the headlines would probably cry over lost manufacturing jobs and not new service industry jobs. What Meyer conspicuously avoids mentioning is how the White House has tampered with definitions, demographics, and criteria over the past 40 years to create a wholly misleading portrait of the US economy. For example, if inflation were measured using criteria in place prior to the Reagan administration, it would sit not at the "official" estimate of 4%, but at a whopping 12%. Similarly, the Bureau of Labour Statistics estimated January 2008 unemployment at 5.2% - but once you expand the definition of "unemployed" to what it meant before Clinton tampered with it, the actual rate is closer to 9%. And that still doesn't include anyone on disability.

Kevin Phillips wrote a brilliant piece summarizing the spin-doctoring of the American economy in last month's Harper's, but he discusses it at some length in this video.

...So there you have it. Not that I particularly expected some rational truth out of a professional spook. Those guys have a nationalist fervor that rivals the Pope's religious rigor - and since the Devil can quote scripture, they've no qualms mobilizing the profane in the defense of the sacred.

Friday, July 04, 2008

Smallpox Champions: US of A!



Doubtlessly, y'all have already seen it, but I'll be damned if it doesn't sum it all up better than I could:
Baseball, Apple Pie, and Kicking Your Fucking Ass: 21 Hilariously Hyperbolic Pro-America Songs
Courtesy of the Onion AV Club. Elsewhere on the interwebs, there's plenty of Third Eye-squeegeeing material by a few dead heroes on the last great global hegemon.

And should I ever feel that nine years wasn't enough, a quick visit to this Wal-Mart of thundering idiocy will convince me I needn't accrue any more time there. (It's kind of impressive, actually: shorthand to the worst ontological tautology, blinkered self-certainty, and broadsword-subtle analysis you can find in the body politic of America.)

Enjoy your barbecues and fireworks!

(Click on the title below to download.)

Seventeen Gun Salute

1. Beauty Pill - "Goodnight For Real" (00:00)
2. Outkast - "Gasoline Dreams" (04:49)
3. Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds - "Tupelo" (08:07)
4. The Black Lips - "O Katrina!" (13:10)
5. Brian Eno & David Byrne - "America Is Waiting" (15:55)
6. Soul Coughing - "Misinformed" (19:22)
7. Charles Mingus - "Fable of Faubus" (22:41)
8. Frank Zappa & Captain Beefheart - "200 Years Old" (30:51)
9. Patton Oswalt - "America Has Spoken" (35:10)
10. Public Enemy - "Welcome To the Terrordome" (37:52)
11. Cody Chesnutt - "Boylife In America" (43:17)
12. Fugazi - "Smallpox Champion" (45:32)
13. Nation of Ulysses - "You're My Miss Washington DC" (49:20)
14. Rufus Wainwright - "Going To a Town" (51:42)
15. Q And Not U - "Kiss Distinctly American" (55:42)
16. Soundgarden - "4th of July" (01:00:47)
17. The Fall - "New Puritan" Peel Session (01:05:54)

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

Playing At VS Being: a Dosser


S F/J just posted what is probably not only the most succinct encapsulation of the blogosphere, but of my goddamned generation:
“I was new to New York and scared, so I drank too much and met someone.”
But since no one rides for free: could it be that, for all his cultural acumen, Sasha actually has seriously shit taste in music?

Elsewhere, Obama recently updated & appended his campaign slogan to: Change You Can Believe In, Or Your Ass Is Fired, Heathen. Brilliant. Thanks for vindicating every ugly, cynical molecule in me. What remains fascinating about Obama, though, is his ability to enchant or enrage people across the political spectrum all at once: even as he disillusions secular-humanists like myself by doing the above, he'll bitch-slap social conservatives with the harsh possibility that maybe, just maybe, they're bigots. About the only thing Peter Wehner gets right in his op-ed is that
the original conceit of the Obama candidacy–that he is an agent of “change” who will “turn the page” on the “old politics” and act as a uniquely unifying figure in American politics–looks more and more absurd.
Indeed, Obama sports a political scramble suit, being whatever to whomever, a chameleonic candidate who recalls the other great bullshit artist of our era, Bill Clinton. But on the bright side, at least that means he's electable!

And to those harping on Obama's smoking habit as though it were some festering wound upon his soul (as oppose to his lungs)... I presume "recovered" addicts or straight-edge health enthusiasts are preferable in all cases? Okay, yes, I just Godwin'd myself, but honestly, stop flexing your vindictive puritanism for a moment and take a studious look in the mirror.

Tuesday, July 01, 2008

O Canada!

Last year, I spent the day of my nation's birth strolling semi-aimlessly around my former Toronto stomping grounds. The graffitti had changed, most of the old haunts remained, and my convulsively (in)viable old employers finally shuttered its doors for good. It was refreshing to breathe some of that (fairly pungent) southern Ontarian air again.

This year, I'll be dining on leftover birthday cake, taking a few online quizzes (19 of 20! Damn you, William Lyon Mackenzie King!), and cruising YouTube for clips from Kids In the Hall, but in my perennial quest to prove that there's more to Canadian music than Bryan Adams and Avril Lavigne...

The Constantines

I still get goosebumps recalling when I saw their inaugural Lee's Palace performace. They've yet to match their end-to-end burner of a debut, but can still outrock the rest.

Death From Above 1979

Yeah, I called them "Polite-ning Bolt" too, but let's face it: they planted a lot of greasy, scuzzerific seeds that are still only starting to flower.

The Sebutones (no relation)

Oh, shit, Canadians do hip-hop too? As anyone who bugged out over that last Cadence Weapon record will tell you: yeah. And a lot of it's pretty damned good, too.

The Tragically Hip

Trad pub-rock though they may be (with the notable exception of Day For Night's dark, earthy psychedelia), Gordon Downie is the poet laureate of Canadiana. Thanks again - and always - to my Dad for taking me to see them in some Baltimore dive when I was thirteen.

Rush

Yeah, you knew this was coming. Suck it. This rocks.

Hang on a minute - did I really manage to make some kind of a Canuck Top 5 that utterly omitted Montreal? Don't think that wasn't intentional. I mean, I love that city as much as anyone but... c'mon.

Sunday, June 29, 2008

C'mon, Feel the Beautiful, Euphoric, Transcendental Noise

Not even close...

I have the discrete pleasure of testifying to what a great many others have already been evangelising: My Bloody Valentine are back and will peel the skin from your skull using only air sculpted with their Fender-brand divining rods. The general critical consensus amounts to the impressionistic descriptive quicksand I find myself wading through every time I recount the concert on the phone:
I mean, like, str0bes&tremo1o-arm swand!ves went *#%*^!*#!* "Soon" and "Feed Me With Yr -> Blinida <3 fuckin' LOUD 5-10-15-20-25 minutes into "You Made Me ~ l0se my hearing #*%^* g!rl passed out, dude... w00t!
Honestly, all the ham-fisted similes and nebulous descriptions that bloggers & mag hacks have cranked out are blamelessly quixotic: given that the legend of The Loudness has proven inarguably true, how can one explain an experience for which one has no first-hand precedent? With ham-fisted similes and nebulous, impressionistic descriptions! After all, for any first-time MBV attendee, it must also be their inaugural experience of sound as a non-environmental (i.e. not derived from mechanical or meteorological sources) yet physically-arresting phenomenon. It was sensory overload of a purity and extremity I'd certainly never experienced.

Here is where it bears expounding upon "The Holocuast": that sonic schisming of space & time at the end of "You Made Me Realise", which lasts anywhere between a quarter- and half-hour. (I sure as hell wasn't checking my watch.) The effect on the audience was uncanny, utterly bizarre. Punters that had been punching the air all night slowed their bouncing into bug-eyed, shellshocked stasis. People nodded off like junkies in every direction. God knows how many eventually fled the front of the room with their fingers in their ears. The girl in front of me slowly crumpled against the barricade and, at song's end, needed to be picked up & carried away by security. I took my earplugs out and immediately felt my spine flush into my stomach. (I put the earplugs back in.) It erased any sense-memory of every song before, and the salvo of the final verse was like being resusitated out of an overdose only to be bitch-slapped by the medic.

It was also during this onslaught that I experienced a bemusing mix of existential dread (see above) and arousal (keep reading). As many others have mentioned, the band appears to have been cryogenically preserved over the last sixteen years - meaning Bilinda Butcher is still indie-adorable, the angelic yin to PJ Harvey's gothy yang. The sight of this petite pixie, strumming away in total indifference to the evil fucking sound assaulting the crowd, was one of the most oddly sexy things I've ever seen.

Long story short (too late)... I wouldn't have traded it for anything. You could have told me that, provided I tore up my ticket, Veronica Lake circa 1942 was arriving in a time machine for a threesome with me and Tina Fey and I would have told you to fuck off.

So, to keep the buzz in the air, here's a mix of songs to sandpaper everyone else's eardrums a bit. Click on the mix title to download.

Lo(-Fi) Rider

1. Nation of Ulysses - "The Sound of Young America" (00:00)
2. Laddio Bolocko - "Goat Lips" (02:29)
3. Shit and Shine - "Danielle" (09:24)
4. Method Man - "Sub Crazy" (11:00)
5. Ween - "Awesome Sound" (13:14)
6. Alex Chilton - "Baron of Love Pt. II" (15:34)
7. The Black Lips - "Lock And Key" (19:43)
8. My Bloody Valentine - "Feed Me With Your Kiss" (22:23)
9. NO - "This Suit Burns Better" (26:12)
10. Fugazi - "Swingset" (29:07)
11. Pavement - "No Life Singed Her" (30:43)
12. The Fall - "Slates, Slags, Etc." (32:43)
13. Karaoke Vocal Eliminator - "Hideously Amplified World" (39:12)
14. Oshiri Penpenz - "Love Letter From Shitty Booze" (43:25)
15. The Cramps - "Love Me" (45:01)
16. Jacks - "Gloomy Flower" (46:58)
17. The Brainbombs - "Drive Around" (50:13)
18. Labtekwon - "Capoiera" (55:13)
19. The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion - "Get Over Here" (57:58)
20. Ogikubo Connection - "Staring At Blood" (01:00:02)
21. The Brian Jonestown Massacre - "The Origin of Love/The Amazing Electric Talking Cave" (01:03:18)
22. Love Life - "[Trails]" (01:09:11)

Addendum:

The week before the concert, I came across this article about the use of music as a tool of torture by the American military. For a split second, I wondered whether my enthusiasm for both excessive volume and repetition somehow put me in a morally unteneble position. (Answer: only when it gets on Th' Wife's nerves!) Approaching the subject too subjectively (as demonstrated by Deicide drummer Asheim) can also lead to "Bring 'em on!" braggadoccio, or even to the myopic dismissal of the very possiblity that music can be torturous. (Similarly, the composer of the Barney The Dinosaur theme argues that "playing hymns to someone strapped to a chair wouldn't make them a Christian," never seeming to consider that such a scenario may have the exact opposite effect.) All of which ignores the simple yet fundamental difference between those of us in front of Kevin Shields' amp stack, and those in the Guantanamo Bay "disco": choice.

Take the time to read the full article, if only because it provides (in the fourth paragraph) yet another concise & explicit reason to hate James Hetfield.

Extension:

Fellow concertgoer and musical polygamist Bradford Cox sought to spark discussion by suggesting that
My Bloody Valentine are a folk band. Their music transfers experience in broad, ambiguous terms utilizing simple chords and melodies.
And now I'm running my mouth like flint and tinder: this seems to me a confusion of terms. I agree that MBV convey [whatever it is they convey] in broad, ambiguous terms - but isn't that the antithesis of "folk" music? I've always understood "folk" to stand for a thematic focus on finite, anecdotal evidence which alluded to some universal condition or sentiment.

It's also insultingly reductive to call MBV's chord changes and melodies "simple." Certainly, the melodies are spare and uncluttered, and there's no finger-sports athleticism on display, but part of the beauty of MBV's music is that it's largely adrift from a clear tonal center, a la Joni Mitchell. Though legions of knuckle-dragging hardcore acts may suggest otherwise, a workmanlike hammering of a handful of chords needn't be monotonic or unsophisticated. Please, if you disbelieve, tell me what key any given song by the Fall from '81-'83 was in.

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Halfway Between Night and Day

It's been thirteen years since I've been so close to a pole during the summer solstice, and it is fuckin' with my head. I'm an amateur somnonaut at the best of times, pathetically sensitive to sunlight, the lunar cycle, fluctuations in temperature, altitude, vehicular velocity, paranoia (real and imagined), and what was the last song I heard before heading to bed.

So that the sun is playing this fleeting game of peek-a-boo as it barely dips below the horizon for three hours a night has robbed me of any hope for a good night's sleep. I'm not a terribly heliophilic person at the best of times, but this is ridiculous. To set my psyche adroit, and at least acknowledge this astrological moment, I've concocted a mix that is split fairly evenly (as it should be, dammit!) between the light and the dark.

Needless to say, there are a innumerable songs about summer that aren't included - but a lot of those are, lightly put, hippie bullshit. (Chin up, lads, I loved the video for "Boy In the Bubble" too!) Blue Cheer's rendition of "Summertime Blues" would've been an obvious choice, but honestly, I just don't think it's very good. (Certainly not stood alongside the Who's earth-scorching version from their "Live At Leeds" album.) In retrospect, I should've included "Who Loves the Sun", but then we just heard VU last week. I also have a hysterical-yet-half-assed attempt of "Sunshine of Your Love" by Ella Fitzgerald, but again, there's no need to repeat performers. ("Hey, what about the Billy Nayer Show?" you ask. I'm sorry, are you being paid to think?) As always, click on the title to download.

Halftime In the Sunshine

1. Jane's Addiction - "Up the Beach" (00:00)
2. Darker My Love - "Summer Is Here" (02:56)
3. Sly & the Family Stone - "Hot Fun In the Summertime" (05:42)
4. Cody Chesnutt - "Daylight" (08:16)
5. The Fendermen - "Beach Party" (09:04)
6. Serge Gainsbourg - "Sous Le Soleil Exactement" (11:05)
7. The Billy Nayer Show - "Sunshine All the Time" (13:52)
8. John Fahey - "On the Beach Waikiki" (16:17)
9. Rye Coalition - "One Daughter Hotter Than a Thousand Suns" (19:12)
10. Need New Body - "Beach" (23:55)
11. Spectrum - "Waves Wash Over Me" (25:51)
12. Les Baxter - "Pyramid Of the Sun" (31:19)
13. NO - "NO Sun" (33:48)
14. Ashra Tempel - "Sunrain" (45:11)
15. SunnO))) - "Defeating: Earth's Gravity" (52:31)
16. Ellla Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong - "Summertime" (01:06:12)

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Doucheland Über Alles!

Note the knuckles

The above post title was a phrase I spat out last night while directing invective at the country currently accomodating me. (Can't believe I'd not heard anyone use it before, to be honest.) Evidently, in the wee hours of Wednesday morning, Germany decided that GMail isn't allowed to call itself such, at least not within German jurisdiction. As evidenced by the snarky "error" page (direct quote: "Oh, and we'd like to link the URL above, but we're not allowed to do that either. Bummer."), Google is none too pleased about this. Granted, having to log in via the general Google Accounts page, then clicking through to the inbox is a minor inconvenience at the worst - but not only might it be enough to deter notoriously lazy netizens from jumping on the GTrain in Deutscheland, it's a minor example of a most disturbing trend in German telecommunications (an industry sufficiently xenophobic that it distrusts anything not branded in its native tongue).

For example, content on Flickr.com is regulated in a fairly arbitrary fashion, reportedly due to Germany's extra-stringent age-verification laws. YouTube is similarly restricted in some vague manner (as opposed to Google Videos, which allows users to choose any geolocational filters). Yes, isn't it nice that troublesome elements within society can't piss in the e-well... which, of course, is the exact excuse that China, Korea, Singapore, Turkey, etc. use to restrict online freedom of expression.

But we needn't worry about Germany, which - unlike those other countries - is a democratic society devoted to transparent communication and progressive ideals, right? Right. Then remind the folks at Deutsche Telekom, Deutsche Bahn, Deutsche Post, and Lufthansa. If it's all about winning the hearts and minds of the people, then victory has gone to the GDR in a knockout. (Economists agree!)

And while we're on a roll...

Recently, the inimitable Patrick J. Mullins went ballistic over at I Cite when his slightly obtuse attempt at empathy was rather curtly rebuffed. Granted, when Mullins declares, "You can call it incomprehensible garbage, but it could be you just don't know what the fuck I'm talking about," the danger is that his elliptically self-referential run-on sentences lean more obviously towards the former. Much the way bores confuse a large vocabulary with having something to say, assholes & self-righteous pricks often attempt to transform featherweight obscurantism into lead-heavy philosophy - forgetting, of course, that alchemy is a myth.

This time, Mullins cut to the chase, explaining that the misfired exchange of comments
was a kind of direct encounter that we should have been capable of executing at this point. It didn't work, so my understanding of the tacit agreement of internet shallowness is, if not complete, at least I can see that the large percentage of the 'communication' is fearful.
I'll be a witness to that. Following last week's surprisingly thorough exchange on Reagan, I figured I'd found reasonably fecund turf for conversation over at Micah Tillman's blog. And then I was soundly cut off at the knees when Tillman effectively killed our conversation by condemning my tone as too confrontational. Okay, fair game: I don't fancy myself some online Attila, and won't tread where I'm not welcome. Otherwise, I'm no better than any troglodytic shit-talker (or a typical McCain supporter, for that matter).

Yet, not two days later, Tillman was bemoaning the lack of lively debate on his blog dedicated to "Philosophy, Politics, Religion, Etc." Gosh, I'm sorry; was I just making Yo Mama jokes or what? Was my mistake that I'd chosen to harp on, I dunno, something of literal substance, instead of semantic nitpicking or the ad-nauseum dissection of obviously empty rhetorical devices? Granted, every blog has its own esoteric focus, and perhaps Tillman's is linguistic microscopy. But for a philosophy lecturer, his obsession on absolute definitions of words seems to betray a near-total disregard for the decline of symbolic efficiency.

And another thing!

Really? This is the best we can do? Really? A mountain of lobotomite-dull Americana conservatism, delay pedal abuse as avant-gardism, a Vertigo Records tribute act, a whole harem to kneel before Bono, Godspeed You Ball-less Bedwetters!, unabashed Breakfast Club nostalgia, and a bunch of shit that's straight-up boring? (Naturally, they choose the most mundane song off the new Earth record to highlight.) Never did I forsee a context in which I'd proclaim unironically that Lil' Wayne truly is the most compellingly whimsical, intriguingly weird artist out there these days.

Oh, cheer up, you gloomy Gus! Surely it's not all bad news, right?

Decks chairs on the Hindenburg, my friend. Deck chairs.

Friday, June 13, 2008

The Meme Whose Head Expanded

Fair Warning: This is a big'un, so before you get all "tl;dr" on me, simply click here to download the MP3 mix, you goldfish-minded brat.
Coming or going?

During my recent revisitation of bachelordom (to find it, take a left past the gates of Dis), I spent quite some time fencing myself in with films about misanthropy and mindlessly strumming the elliptical looped riff of "Wings". Around the same time, Mark K-Punk was returning to the territory he indisputably rules: academic dissections (post-mortems?) of the mind of Mark E. Smith. This dragged Perverted By Language out of psychic deep storage and myself out of a deepening well of paranoia. The single step towards salvation was articulated thusly:
"Turn that bloody blimey space invader off!"
The virtual world appears near-complete in its construction, with corporations, counterculturalists, cliques, cops, criminals, celebrities, snake-oil salesmen, schemers, dreamers, has-beens, and also-rans populating the pixelated landscape. The structure is seamless enough that, alongside The Sims and Second Life, "reality" becomes a bit redundant - but only insofar as "reality" is irrelevant to people ensconced in The Matrix. There is sufficient static & tension between the two worlds that the transition is traumatic. Being a wizard behind the keyboard often translates to being a hermit, a shut-in, or at least an awkward git in the "real" world. As the world shrinks around an individual, the greater the place the individual seems to occupy until they seemingly fill the screen. Simply put: the smaller the scope, the greater the solipsism, until all that remains is an all-roads-lead-to-Rome paranoia.
"The man who's head expanded explained:
The scriptwriter would follow him around,
of this he was convinced. It was no coincidence."
Now, the great paradox of paranoia is that it typically grows inversely proportionate to one's active participation & functional relevence. Unlike Smith's antihero, neither TV nor video games were (or are) prevalent in my routine. But my quotidian existence had withered down to whatever flashed across my laptop screen. The few external encounters I had - grocery shopping, riding the subway, helping the senile pensioner nextdoor find his keys - became unbearable intrusions. I was working damned hard to make myself as "non-" a non-entity within the civic context as possible. Yet I started finding my own memetic footprints, wayward traces of myself, scattered about online. Noted tastemakers would ape song selections I'd already posted. Digital flotsam I'd passed around would suddenly pop up in high-profile places. Then it began cutting too close: all these other cats were listening to the same songs I'd been playing on repeat for the past month. How'd they find out? Have I been spending too much time with one Onion and not the other? What does a Scanner see?

Of course, the obvious answer was: fuckin' get over yourself, dude. Not only is my taste in no way singular, but here I was bouncing between like-minded blogs, somehow expecting their enthusiasms to lie far afield from mine. Well done indeed. Much in the same manner that conspiracy theories fulfill the same function as religious faith, paranoia becomes a substitute for meaningful friendships: an ornately-spun and meticulously-balanced web of associations with a first-person locus.

As I've previously explained, I have become more or less irrelevant to my immediate environment - or perhaps simply disillusioned regarding my general relevancy. Either way, in my less level-headed moments, I'd sypathise with those who'd deliberately destroyed their brains to anaesthetise themselves to the chronic dysphoria of waking life: addiction as a 9-to-5 in the most grimly minimal, bottom-line, existential sense. Then came the sunny revelation that mors ontologica not only runs, but gallops in my family. A particular case set such an uncanny precedent that it was less like some melodramatic familial folklore than a funhouse-mirror What If? scenario, wherein all my darker, destructive tendencies had played themselves out to the end.

Suddenly, my intuitive fear & loathing of self-medication & applied personal chemistry seemed less monastic cowardice than an inborn failsafe - that I'd distilled an instinct from a soupy psychic miasma of suspicions, allusions, innuendos, and anecdotal fragments over the years. Looking back, I glimpsed what could have lay ahead, had I taken myself too seriously. It all looked remarkably like K-Punk's imagining of MES' nightmarish realization that
"At a certain point the powers will start to wane. The voices that speak through you will no longer make themselves heard. The words will not come. Your eyes will blink open and you will find yourself trapped in the most miserable reality, no longer able to make it take flight, or to yourself flee it. When all those egresses into other worlds recede, then this world will close around you, greasy with fried chicken fat, glossy with discarded celebrity trash, as seamless as a shopping mall, as interminable as a dreary videogame to which there is no level 2."
Mercifully, all this was learned with ample time to make a choice: No Future, Or... wherein the space after the "or" has yet to be blacked out. If, indeed, "the drive of unliving things is stronger than the drive of living things," then there is little difference between an amphetamine-burned, psychotropically-scarred zombie and staring at a computer screen all the time. Tuned in to the scanner, parsing the static, self-Googling, obsessing over infinitesimal details, becoming enraged over the smallest glitches in the Matrix, parasitic, paranoid, a stimulus-response somnambulist... a scanner or a speedfreak? Is there a difference, and does it particularly matter?

Not to me. Not yet. To stimuli, I can still choose from an arsenal of responses. An awareness of inertia is an awareness of the other condition as well. The voices still come; one has to stop thinking of oneself as "one self" and welcome them.

I'm going for a walk.

Saying Uncle

1. Buck 65 - "Achilles and the Tortoise" (00:00)
2. The Fall - "Wings" (03:18)
3. The Velvet Underground - "I Can't Stand It" (07:48)
4. The Rolling Stones - "19th Nervous Breakdown" (11:06)
5. Brian Eno - "Golden Hours" (15:08)
6. The Focus Group - "Reflected Message" (18:53)
7. Sonic Youth - "Schizophrenia" (20:27)
8. Shit and Shine - "Practicing To Be a Doctor" (25:04)
9. Tarentel - "Fever Sleep" (32:24)
10. Sonic Boom - "Help Me Please" (34:04)
11. Soul Coughing - "$300" (38:41)
12. Hüsker Dü - "The Tooth Fairy and the Princess" (41:35)
13. Public Image Ltd. - "Death Disco/Swan Lake" (43:51)
14. The Brian Jonestown Massacre - "Mansion In the Sky" (48:23)
15. Spacemen 3 - "Suicide" (50:36)
16. The Billy Nayer Show - "My Funeral" (01:02:08)
17. Scott Walker - "30th Century Man" (01:05:43)

Totally Nonsequitorial Postscript: I just saw the video for the new Sigur Ros single, "Gobbledigook". My guess is the only thing stopping Animal Collective from suing the shit out of those Icelanders is that the A.C. boys are way too burned to know the difference.

Good Riddance to Ronnie: A Reiteration

The Great Communicator is scarcely at the fore of my thoughts, but during a lengthy back-and-forth over at Micah Tillman's blog, I innocently mentioned that "I’m always curious to hear people argue in favour of Reaganism, to test my own convictions"... and, man oh man, was my curiosity satisfied. My mistake, of course, to invite praise upon Reagan on a libertarian blog. What follows here will most certainly be said in vain, because the ideological chasm between myself and Andrew Stevens makes the grand canyon look like Stephen Malkmus cracking a smile. Nonetheless, I want to share my appraisal of Ol' Ronnie without weaving a Gordian knot out of Tillman's comment thread. Now, everything I'll mention here has been repeated elsewhere, but in the interest of being thorough...

Why exactly do I loathe Ronald Reagan? Let me count the ways:

~He ratted out and demonised fellow citizens before the HUAC.
~Apparently, "cleaning up the mess at Berkeley" included Gestapo tactics.
~All those crazy people wandering the streets? Yep, Reagan's fault.
~In all likelihood, he used 52 hostages as pawns in an election campaign.
~Perhaps in an overzealous attempt to prove "government is the problem," he busted a national union and put 11,345 Americans out of work.
~Reaganomics: a Trojan Horse that bore a stagnant median wage, the S&L crisis, and that festering cherry on top, the '87 stock crash.
~Oh, and that massive cut in inflation? You can thank massive unemployment for that, not Reagan.
~And while I'm at it: fuck tax cuts for the rich. There, I said it.
~Ladies and gentlemen, Robert Bork!
~He pledged to "do whatever was necessary" to aid that Saddam guy against Iran.
~290 innocent civilians died in a case of mistaken identity.
~He staunchly supported & sold arms to Efrain Rios Montt, per-capita the bloodiest dictator Latin America has ever seen.
~He "allowed Alexander Haig to greenlight the Israeli invasion of Lebanon in 1982, fired him when that went too far and led to mayhem in Beirut, then ran away from Lebanon altogether when the Marine barracks were bombed, and then unbelievably accused Tip O'Neill and the Democrats of 'scuttling.'"
~He praised the future Taliban as "freedom fighters" while the religious extremists who would later attack the WTC received funds & training from the CIA.
~The Iran Contra Affair
~The HUD grant-rigging scandal
~The "War On Drugs"
~"Welfare queen"
~"We begin bombing in five minutes!"

In the words of a far more succinct man, "Let the earth where he is buried be seeded with salt."

Finally, Mr. Stevens made it clear that his praise for Reagan was not out of partisanship by praising JFK. Likewise, I'm not bound by unblinking loyalty to a particular party. "Slick Willie" Clinton's misdeeds - from the Defense of Marriage Act to destroying a Sudanese penecilin plant - are far too quickly forgotten or forgiven. Likewise, JFK was an overromanticised speed-freak playboy who cried "appeasement" and brought the world perilously close to nuclear annihilation - but then, he's already been assassinated once, so I needn't do it again.