Monday, February 14, 2011

To the Delight of Caucasian Dullards Everywhere

Well, look who took home top prize at the music industry's annual closed-circle-jerk. Doubtlessly, such an achievement by a 1.3 million-selling band that has licensed its songs to major corporations, has performed at private functions for political insiders, and whose record label doesn't happen to have a corporate parent, will be hailed as another culture-industry equivalent to David taking down Goliath. Backslaps all around, you smug pricks!

Honestly, who is excited by this band any more? Scratch that - who ever thought an anemic, sphincter-clenching hybrid of "Once In a Lifetime" and "Born To Run" was a good idea? I swear, anyone thrilled by the Arcade Fire's coronation at the Cocksucker's Ball is such a boring, beige-souled, conservative bastard that they'd have similarly picked Tom Jones' "Green, Green Grass of Home" over anything off Revolver for Record of the Year 1966.

Wednesday, February 09, 2011


And I thought the Super Bowl was Imperial America's own Nürnberg pageant even before I saw Fergie's absurd technotopian S&M outfit.

Fourth-and-ten macht frei!

In an unrelated story, I found the most perfectly succinct encapsulation of indie culture's nostalgic self-cannibalization:
Damn it I miss the 90's. I need to move to portland.
Commenting on this video, naturally. And evidently feeling no shame in re-viewing the most embarrassing & amateur music video by revered countercultural icons since "Dancing In the Street".

Oh, and why no long-form rants or raves recently? Honestly, the still-unfolding situation in Egypt is crushing my mind grapes, and there's already enough analysis - both good and batshit lunatic - to choke a pelican. Meditating upon (speaking of embarrassment) Jesus Jones' "Right Here, Right Now", Simon Reynolds addressed the awkwardness of watching the gears of history shift from a safe seat on the sofa:
he sings "right here right now, there is no other place I want to be"

but "right here" = sat on a sofa, in front of a screen

what's changed in the 20 years since that song is that the real-time mediation of politics has been amped up so drastically that there's an even more electrifying and involving illusion of witnessing History

which is where the temptation to pontificate comes in... because to analyse and "take a position" seems active, a contribution of some kind
...which, of course, it bloody well isn't. I'm not dodging American-made tear gas canisters whilst dragging armed goons off their camels; I'm sitting in a heated apartment wondering which Nick Cave record I want to listen to next. I'm in greater danger of being hit by a North Korean nuke than of being trampled in an anti-government riot. I'm sitting pretty. The temptation to pontificate is only so seductive because it involves no actual risk on my part. So I'm keeping my mouth fucking shut.

Sunday, February 06, 2011

Gip, Gip, Hooray!

In (dis)honour of what would've been Ronnie's centennial, please take note of Tim Kreider's reflections upon Reagan's passing in 2004:
If there was any justice in this world his Presidential Library would contain nothing but boys' adventure books and bad cowboy movies, and the only things named after him would be shopping malls and Potter's Fields. Let the earth where he is buried be seeded with salt.

Friday, February 04, 2011

Today's Aphorism

Anyone who complains that their "tweet" was misread, has misread Twitter altogether.