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12 July 2010

That’s me on television aka Nuit Brooklyn @ Les Nuits de Fourvière 2010

The National, Dirty Projectors, Sharon Jones & St. Vincent all shared a stage earlier tonight (Central European Summer Time) at Les Nuits de Fourvière, a two-month long, multidisciplinary arts festival that happens every year in Lyon, France, about four hours Southeast of Paris by car.

This summer one of the festival’s artistic directors, Marc Cardonnel — his official title is Conseiller Artistique (tres chic!) — visited my neighborhood to get some more background on a night he’d booked dedicated to the musical life of our borough. Point being his crew filmed my interpretive waxations on the subject, wherein I trace the distinctions between Dirty Projectors (representing younger Brooklyn), The National (representing bourgie Brooklyn — pronounced boo-zhee and not really French), and Sharon Jones (i.e. real Brooklyn as in, like, she lived in Rockaway for awhile which is, to be frank, actually in Queens).

St. Vincent is nice and all but she’s more or less from Texas.

Also they made my hair look terrible:

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30 April 2010

The energy of a Void: some lessons on hardcore, faith & what not


Recently I had reason to reminisce about hardcore, a music very close to my heart. Want proof? Pictured above is the wall of my bedroom. Below: framed cover of Void/The Faith split 12″ (Dischord, 1982) Above: a copy of the etched side of The Locust’s “Well I’ll Be a Monkey’s Uncle” double 12” (Gold Standard Labs, 2000). A pictorial detail here:

One of the problems with explaining an appreciation for this music is its obscurity, its inexplicability compared to most of what people would consider music, and — the topic I’m going to focus on in this post — its energy, an energy so untidy and chaotic it doesn’t translate well into adulthood which, if you define adulthood like most people do, means that it does not translate well anywhere that is considered polite society.

Now for some Void videos, sorted by YouTube popularity:

LESSON #1: ENERGY – 58,000 views

So, yes, energy. It’s less like music than a rolling storm. The guitar player Bubba Dupree’s sway and lean is trance-like, masturbatory in a zen way, completely focused. The singer John Weiffenbach displays a weird athleticism all the weirder for how it’s mixed up with a weird rage. Imagine for a second if the jocks were the biggest weirdos in your typical American high school and you get a sense of the threat to the social order someone like Weiffenbach represents. He’s a punk but he’s proudly wearing short shorts, simultaneously upsetting both the actual weirdo peers (for the way he’s dressed) and the more straightforward kids (for the things he’s doing in those shorts). If only he replaced then with 80s-era running shorts maybe his band would have been more popular. But no that’s an innovation he left for Henry Rollins to master.

The drummer Sean Finnegan will not stop playing when the band does. It seems like whatever he is doing is only half-coordinated with the actions of his bandmates. He’s going balls out and won’t stop. It would be too clever to say that only death could stop this guy — or that he had an energy which seems too much, too much, which was destined to make him expire at a young age. But when you hear that his death in 2008 came via a massive heart attack, and that he was only 43 years old you might think those thoughts were correct & appropriate after all.

One of the reasons this video has so many more views than the others is that it’s the one bloggers gravitated toward when running his obituary — making him, perhaps, the single biggest means by which this pre-internet band has been embraced in this medium.

LESSON #2: WILLPOWER & WILL TO POWER – 28,000 views

This next video gives a better sense of what makes the band exciting. The camera never moves. The singer has a fearful, will-to-power like intensity. You understand the appeal the group might have to a heedless young person, an appeal much like the original creator of the will to power concept seems to hold on precocious young people — at least in my experience.

For the most part the band is absent entirely from the shot. But if you’re like me you don’t much care. There is plenty of visual interest here besides them, and the point of what they’re doing up there on stage, finally, is to incite a movement, a violence, a creative spark & persistent impact that goes far & above the music they’re making in real time. So yes, a shout out to 19th-century German classical philologists everywhere straight from 1980s era Washington, DC.

LESSON(S) #3 & #4: CHAOS & COMMUNITY – 19,000 views combined

Here’s the point to put a finger on it. Watch the second video, where an audience member for a second grabs control of the mic; where singer John Weiffenbach tells the crowd “Stick your fingers in my gizzard” and you’re not sure if it’s a lyric or a request; where you can barely tell where the band stops and the crowd begins.

Unique to this music is a sense that there is no line between audience and performer, between the chaos of the crowd and the creation of something new, between the artist and the community that supports them. That’s what made hardcore punk so inspiring to so many kids that would, eventually, leave the actual music and aesthetic of that culture behind. I recall the Passover Seder I attended a few weeks back at the home of a particularly forward thinking Lubavitcher rabbi in Boro Park. I, myself, neither observe nor practice any religion but I was taken aback by the guy seated to my left at the table — a Catholic hardcore kid from Connecticut that had recently converted to the Jewish faith and was dressed in the full-out Hasidic outfit — beard, side curls, black hat, etc.

It made me wonder, was hardcore punk a kind of religion in and of itself?

And finally…

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21 April 2010

Antimodernity, M.I.A.’s viral marketing effort, a Wall Street Journal book review & a Spider-Man t-shirt on a kid from Southeast Asia: a short attention span essay on Authenticity aka “I have the pussy, so I make the rules”

We live in an era of blogs, tweets, aggregators, and Fox News. It’s quite easy to exist in an ideological/cultural/sociological/psychographic bubble of your own making–one that entirely reinforces your existing systems of belief. That’s why I start every morning with the Wall Street Journal. If you are on the liberal side of the spectrum like myself; if you cast a skeptical eye at capitalism; well, then Karl Rove’s columns will do a better job of waking you up in the morning than a cup of strong coffee and a smack in the face.

I was quite pleased, then, when I tripped across this most excellent review of Andrew Potter’s The Authenticity Hoax by one Paul Beston who, if the internet is to be trusted, has affiliations with the conservative American Spectator and the foggier “individual responsibility” mandate of the Manhattan Institute. (In other words, he’s the kind of dude I wouldn’t seek out to add to my reading list.)

Here’s an extended excerpt–about half the review. It crystallizes a lot of the devil’s advocate notions I’ve developed while living here in Brooklyn (aka authenticity ground zero) the past several years, then advances them several yards down the ideological football field:

    …Mr. Potter notes that the search for authenticity often ends up as a status seeking game.

    Authenticity, Mr. Potter writes, is “a positional good, which is valuable precisely because not everyone can have it.” By competing against one another to see who is more authentic, he says, we just become bigger phonies than we were before. The local-food trend illustrates what Mr. Potter calls “conspicuous authenticity,” by which the well-heeled embark on a “perpetual coolhunt,” whether it is for authentic jeans, pristine vacation spots or mud flooring, part of the “natural building” movement. The overarching goal is less to possess the thing itself than to make a claim to refined taste and moral superiority.

    But the authenticity fixation, according to Mr. Potter, goes deeper than consumer choices. It is the culprit, for instance, behind “a debased political culture dominated by negative advertising and character assassination.” Political candidates are always selling their own sincerity, so that any crack in the facade (never too hard to find) launches a hundred attack ads. Taken to its darkest extremes, obsessive authenticity can become deadly, as in the case of Islamic fundamentalism or the hyper-nationalist authenticity of fascism. Less toxic, but more common, is the craving for authenticity among those in the West who see a market economy and consumer culture as sterile and false — inauthentic, in other words — and who defend the world’s most repressive cultures, looking past their brutality to admire their resistance to modernity.

    It is the disillusionment with modernity, Mr. Potter maintains that underlines the authenticity quest. When man was preoccupied with finding food and appeasing capricious gods, he didn’t have the time or inclination to ask whether he had “sold out” for an easy paycheck or failed to align himself with some abstract ideal of the “authentic” life. But then science made the formerly mystical cosmos explainable, and a spread of democratic ideas, in politics and markets alike, made food and freedom more broadly shared. The result was “a new kind of society and, inevitably, a new kind of person,” Mr. Potter writes, one more given to looking within for meaning and not liking what he found there. The individual’s own self-definition filled the gap left by faith and authority.

    Mr. Potter anoints Jean-Jacques Rousseau, the 18th-century philosopher, as the godfather of the authenticity quest. His famous “state of nature” was a fantasy of authenticity, an idea of man’s existence before society. Mr. Potter argues that Rousseau used the state-of-nature concept as a “regulative ideal” by which to measure how far we had strayed from a lost harmony.

    Rousseau’s “antimodern tunnel vision,” Mr. Potter says, can be found in various modern forms: in the views of the American Transcendentalists of the 19th century and the counterculture heroes of the 1960s, for instance; or in such gloomy social critics as Al Gore and Prince Charles and alarmists like James Howard Kunstler. [Don’t be intimidated, I had to look this one up too.-ed] These antimodern voices, and others, represent what Mr. Potter calls “the authenticity hoax in full throat: a dopey nostalgia for a non-existent past, a one-sided suspicion of the modern world, and a stagnant and reactionary politics masquerading as something personally meaningful and socially progressive.”

In other words, ouch, say the locavores.

I agree, though, the guy has a point. What’s authentic is a Cambodian child wearing a Spider-Man t-shirt because those are the cast offs sent from the west and available to be worn. Image via Osmosus.

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