Archive for April, 2008

#216 – Still Crazy After All These Years

Wednesday, April 30th, 2008

paul auster goes crazy over columbia ’68 and iraq ’08.

Forty years ago this month, in the fateful year of 1968, Columbia University students went on strike, eventually taking over buildings on the university’s campus (full disclosure: I am starting a book on the history of this event).

What followed was a kind of microcosm of the late 1960s: student protest in general; racial divisions between black nationalist student protesters and white student protesters; growing women’s and sexual liberation movements (at Columbia and Barnard revolving around the March 1968 case of Linda LeClair, who was controversially cohabitating with her boyfriend); the continued revelations of the university’s research involvements with weapons such as Agent Orange, used in the U.S. military intervention in Vietnam; a mass-mediated frenzy of hype; an angry backlash by working-class cops; a confusing mix of local and global issues colliding with each other; the hippie counterculture even made an appearance, not just in clothing and hair styles, but when students smuggled a relatively new rock band, the Grateful Dead, onto campus in a bread truck to perform in solidarity with the protesters.

Image: Seth Kushner

Paul Auster

Last week in the New York Times, Paul Auster published what he called a memory-piece about his involvement in the Columbia events of spring 1968. Moving between first and third person, he wrote of how students who felt angry about Vietnam and other issues but were largely apolitical in their direct activism were suddenly swept up the swirl of historical events around them. This was an experience of deep interiority and exteriority all at once: a kind of trance state in which a participant dove in and pulled back in the same gesture of political action. As Auster put it:

The crowd thought that was an excellent idea, and so off it went, a throng of crazy, shouting students charging off the Columbia campus toward Morningside Park. Much to my astonishment, I was with them. What had happened to the gentle boy who planned to spend the rest of his life sitting alone in a room writing books? He was helping to tear down the fence. He tugged and pulled and pushed along with several dozen others and, truth be told, found much satisfaction in this crazy, destructive act.

Auster ended his essay with another strange mix of assertion and removal, of declaring “I am” and whispering “Who is he?”

I hesitate to draw any comparisons with the present — and therefore will not end this memory-piece with the word “Iraq.” I am 61 now, but my thinking has not changed much since that year of fire and blood, and as I sit alone in this room with a pen in my hand, I realize that I am still crazy, perhaps crazier than ever.

Writing like the Edgar Allen Poe of Park Slope that he is, Auster turns Columbia ’68 into a kind of ghost story. He as narrator enters into a determined position and pulls himself back at the same time. He tells a detective’s tale of mystery: the student uprising as the fourth installment of the New York Trilogy.

Image: SDS

SDS Pamphlet, April 1968

This is not about Iraq but it is about Iraq, Auster manages to suggest. I am not the same person I was then but I am the same person I was then. Auster fixes himself and comes unhinged in the same sentence.

But maybe, he hints, when surrounded by fire and blood, coming unhinged is in fact the only fix there is.

Images: SDS, Courtesy NYU Archives; Seth Kushner

#215 – To Wright or Right One’s Swiftboat?

Wednesday, April 30th, 2008

on the “fierce urgency of now.”

More fire, less mire. More hope, less mope.

Exactly so.

#214 – Backlash

Sunday, April 27th, 2008

Image: Oliver Munday

“Continue on the yam level and life would be sweet — though somewhat yellowish.” – Narrator in Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man

Colson Whitehead’s Op-Ed in the New York Times was a brilliant critique, both in tone and substance, of the impossible and bitter positions in which African-Americans get put. The pains are many, whether invisible on the lower frequencies or out on the main stage.

There was something liberating in Whitehead’s piece — a sly, Ellisonian fierceness that combined recognition of absurd expectations with a resistance to their logic.

Image: Oliver Munday/New York Times

#213 – The “Practice” of Anti-Elitism

Thursday, April 24th, 2008

jargon, its content & its discontents.

At first, one feels sympathetic to journalistic critiques of academic jargon. Jargon is mystifying, limiting, too specialized. It is stultifying. It signifies nothing. Hot air balloons. Wanky guitar solos of the ivy tower. All those fancy-schmancy words are just frilly brims on new hats, but the same old rabbits get pulled out.

But since accusations of elitism are once again the topic du jour in the political realm, these anti-elitist complaints seem more disturbing in cultural spaces. What is really going on here?

In comments about the 2008 Experience Music Project Pop Conference, the same old academics vs. journalists debate rears its head again. Alfred Soto writes on his blog, Humanizing the Vacuum:

The decision to include more papers by academics injected an unwholesome amount of pedagogical oratory and jargon into several promising ideas (I never want to hear about “praxis,” “teleological,” and “heteronormative valences” in my presence again).

He continues by arguing that academics “care little about audience reactions” and “are taught to expunge their presentations of opinions.” Whereas, by implication, journalists focus on their audience and on expressing their tastes.

What is troubling about this post is what is troubling about articles such as Roberta Smith’s reactionary screed against artists using the word “practice” to describe their working conditions, aims, and experiences (I usually love Roberta Smith’s articles and reviews, but found this one to be problematic).

Both Soto and Smith rightfully point to moments when word choice and vocabularies from specialized fields of research are used poorly (in academia, one might say “deployed” poorly, to use the jargon). But Soto and Smith also confuse the poor contextualization and use of these words with their actual, worthwhile analytic power.

In the process, they move from efforts to make sense of (to “probe” in the jargon) the concepts to dismissals of academic approaches. The tone borders on rage and certainly expresses a kind  anti-intellectualism. You almost expect the next sentence in their writing to read: you latte-drinking, ivy-tower eggheads..stop being so out of touch and elite!

These kinds of rants do not pause to consider that the same kinds of word choices and perspectives (“discourses” in academic jargon) are very much at work in art and music criticism.

The “opinions” that Alfred Soto bemoans vanishing from academic presentations at EMP and remaining in journalistic work are themselves grounded (“embedded” in the jargon) in specialized trivia, subtle gestures, insider know-how, and compressed references to larger positions and tastes. Ever read a Robert Christgau review? You have to know your pop music history quite well and have your hipster meter on to glean the full meanings of this kind of supposedly non-academic, public writing.

The point is that there’s a specialized way of communicating in pop music criticism, art criticism, and cultural criticism that is every bit as baffling to the outsider and every bit as intellectual (thank god) if you take the time to grapple with the ideas behind the words.

Here’s a different route to propose for academics and cultural critics alike.

Our task is in both academia and cultural criticism/journalism should not be to dismiss the appearance of jargon, but rather to crack open the codes of linguistic locks. Sure, jargon can block access to “opinions” (or arguments and interpretations as one might call them in academic settings). But one word can also serve as the access point to ideas trapped within.

So, critique the confines of linguistic shorthand, if you will, but scale the walls anyway for what might hide behind the ivy-towering presence of jargon. Because a breakout is at stake. If we write right, we could be able to liberate a lot of intellectual substance from the prison house of language. There are important ideas lurking if you can turn the keywords right.

#212 – Echolocation #10 – Viva La Musica Pop

Thursday, April 24th, 2008

the magnetic fields, “world love”

“When the rhythm calls the government falls…”

A wry imitation of the Paul Simon imitation of African “world music,” the Magnetic Fields’ “World Love” sneaks in its serious point: that music can still matter, but only if you don’t take it too seriously. The song breezes past tired, old issues of authenticity and broaches a spirit of global solidarity in the imitative and mimetic. Rather than worrying about authenticity, the song proposes a new sense of fellowship and association wrought out of the fake, the hybrid, the mutated, the mongrel, the mixed up.

“…So if you’re feeling low
, stuck in some bardo / I, even I, know the solution
 / Love, music, wine and revolution…”

Crucially, the mode here is not satire, but rather, as one listener puts it, pastiche. The music, even the words, are a quote of a quote of a quote — slightly off and just right all at once. The references spin around so many times, a kind of gyroscopic sonic and affective revolution launches into motion.

“…This too shall pass, so raise your glass / to change and chance
…”

Freedom wafts by like a melody caught askance, a guitar trill curling up the latticework, around the corner of a building, out a cafe window on the street. Music, wine, and revolution arrive by “chance,” but sometimes, this freedom opens up new spaces — funny, ironic, witty, and profoundly serious and revelatory spaces that are marked by a consciousness of time, of history (“this too shall pass”).

“…and freedom is the only law / shall we dance…”

Music, like humor, pulls us out of regimes of domination or control if we will let it, suggesting that there may be other kinds of sovereignty — other laws — to guide us.

It’s an outrageous, ridiculous claim, but also powerful and sneaky.

#211 – Neoliberal Neologisms

Sunday, April 20th, 2008

what’s governing the government debate.

Ambrogio Lorenzetti, Allegory of Good Government: Effects of Good Government in the City

Ambrogio Lorenzetti, Allegory of Good Government: Effects of Good Government in the City

Why is the question always “big government” versus “small government,” when it should be “good government” versus “bad government”? That should be the political debate. Until we switch, bad government will always win out.

#210 – Facing the Fifties

Saturday, April 12th, 2008

on robert frank’s the americans.

Madroad driving men ahead… – Jack Kerouac, “Introduction,” The Americans

Thank goodness a more affordable edition of Robert Frank’s book of photographs, The Americans, will be published this spring.

“U.S. 91, leaving Blackfoot, Idaho”

“U.S. 91, leaving Blackfoot, Idaho”

What is so striking about this collection of photographs from the 1950s — filled with American flags, ghostly gas stations, jukeboxes, city bustle, and burning white lines of roads — are the faces. They burn through any slight edge of lonely sentimentalism and nostalgia that might turn Frank’s work into the photographic equivalent of Edward Hopper’s paintings.

Instead, the faces in Frank’s photographs give the lie to nostalgia about the 1950s. They all bear an undercurrent of rage, anger. They are taut, tense, beleaguered. The jaw muscles are pulled tight. The eyes sting. This America is no gentle place.

Image: Robert Frank.

#209 – Sound Materials

Wednesday, April 9th, 2008

american music as metal ‘n’ wood.

Metal and Wood: The Electromatic Bo Diddley Guitar

Crackpot theory #316: Anglo-American popular music in the twentieth century can be divided into two elements: wood and metal. This music has either sounded like wood, earthy, thuddy, full of grain, bark, and veiny leaves. Or it has sounded like metal: clanging, gonging, thundering, absorbing lightning strikes, conducting electrical currents, shocking those who touch the sound. One end of the continuum: Woody Guthrie. The other end: Lou Reed’s Metal Music.

The most interesting pop music has combined wood and metal in varying formulations, splitting the wood with muscle and force; getting the metal to breathe and grow rings.


#208 – The Planned Obsolescence of Roots Music

Tuesday, April 8th, 2008

listening with the collectors.

The great folklorist and music collector Dick Spottswood calls the songs he plays on his fabulous radio program “obsolete music.” It’s a wonderful term to describe what many call “roots music.”

Turning the tables on the idea of “roots,” “obsolete music” trumpets the messy, lost, castoff quality of older forms of American popular music rather than its grounded timelessness. And amazingly, “obsolete music” as a label and approach to country, folk, blues, and r&b from decades past winds up rekindling authentic experience out of the very process of complicating authenticity.

Folk music here is purposefully de-folkified. It isn’t the ahistorical sound of the Volk. It’s not the sonic equivalent of a rustic wooden sculpture made by a visionary tobacco farmer from Kentucky. Instead, it’s folk music as a 1950s Chevy tailfin: showy, flashy, ludicrous, full of glint and style and utopian longings to live in the moment, even if this turns out to be a moment from the past.

On Spottswood’s show, then, we are not in the realm of folk music understood as the pulsating heartbeat of a vibrant, rooted community. Instead, when we tune in Spottswood’s show, we journey to the dispersed, dusty alcoves, attics, and basements of a former community’s sonic coherence. We get lost, disoriented, outmoded on the margins and edges of the collective musical soundscape of American popular song.

Listening to the Dick Spottswood Show, we find ourselves in a new community on those margins and edges: a secret society of shamanic listeners. In short, we are no longer among the originators, but we are instead among the collectors. We’re listening to ghosts.

But we only hear those sonic ghosts through figures such as Spottswood, who, like spiritualist mediums at a seance, tune in those ghosts, touch and perceive their shapes, and link them together.

As Spottswood re-collects and recollects older songs, how weird that roots music would emerge on his radio show from such seemingly rootless and now-lost sounds.

#207 – The Folk Look in Mod Art

Monday, April 7th, 2008

modernism as the folk art of modernity?

Last post, I asked if a folk artist was merely a modernist with a good marketing plan? Today, in a kind of follow-up review in the Times by Roberta Smith, the art of Doris Lee posed a corollary question: is a modernist merely a folk artist responding to a new folk milieu?

“The Violinist, Woodstock” by Doris Lee

“The Violinist, Woodstock” by Doris Lee (Photo: Noel Allum)

If not, is there something about the distance, the remove, the consciousness, the purposefulness, the premeditation, the irony of modernism that distinguishes it from folk art, which we use to define (probably dubiously) art that seems unmediated, direct, without irony?

But let’s say that the new context for art in the twentieth century involved a new kind of authenticity for the ironic perspective on life — an irony wrought by industrialization, bureaucratization, centralization and their alienations and absurdities (earlier phases of society had their own alienations and absurdities of course, but not the same ones). If folk art is art grounded in everyday life, and modernization transforms everyday life, then modernism is a kind of folk art for its times.

Maybe these labels and the debates about them are just silly. But we use those terms, so we should think about them carefully.

More significantly, we feel aesthetic responses of authenticity and irony to the art that we have to name and label, even if those names and labels are misleading and, ultimately, contradictory. So probing those responses to art for their social embeddedness is worthwhile.

Folk artist – modernist. They signal different social positions, different populations, different markets, different milieus, but the dialectic between them fuses in the story of modernity itself and its all-pervasive transformations of perception.