| NPR Shop | NPR Community | Login | Register

June 30, 2009

How We Show Our Music That We Really Care

A friend pointed out the other day that I don't listen to music very often. It's true, I don't. Sometimes I have music on in the car, mostly as a means of subduing my road rage, my predilection towards screaming, honking, and the giving of the middle finger. [Video blog idea: I keep a camera on me at all times in the car and then edit down a "Best of Carrie's road outbursts" each night.]

Occasionally, I will be focused on the songs; I'll turn up the volume until my ears ache and the car interior seems to swell with the pressure and intensity of the sounds. (I've done this lately with Lightning Dust's upcoming album Infinite Light, one that I'll surely revisit later on these very pages.) But for the most part, I keep the stereo volume low in the car, barely perceptible even. I've had some people complain that it's more annoying to have music at a low volume than to have none at all. Apparently, I've learned how to tune it out.

At home--where I have more CDs, Mp3s and LPs than I know what to do with--I often choose to have talk radio droning on and on, from which I glean bits of news and information. Except I do turn the radio off when Portland's strapped-for-cash local NPR affiliate, OPB, airs "The World" at 10 AM and then again at 1 PM. In my opinion, this brand of repetition should be reserved for favorite songs and movies, and for the phrase "Who's a good dog?"

So, if I'm not listening to music incessantly, why should I claim that music is paramount in my life? It is, I promise you. And anyone who knows me would verify this fact as certifiable. I think about music constantly, sometimes more than I'd like; I write about it, I engage in friendly musical debates, and I take silly quizzes in order to prove my level of expertise (to myself, mostly, no one else cares).

Every once in a while I'll pull records off the shelves in order to have a personal listening party consisting of favorite and forgotten songs; I'll tug the LPs out with such fervor you'd think there was a golden ticket hidden in between the sleeves. Yet I don't roam the streets with headphones on, delivering to me a constant stream of sound, and my neighbors have never had to come over and tell me to "turn it down."

Maybe it's that I'm just not into blatant public displays of affection or PDA with music. I mean, come on, we don't have to be grabbing each others' asses or making out for everyone to know we're in love.

Where would you rank the importance music in your life? Do concerts ever take financial precedence over something else you'd like to buy? Do you love music more than your family or your job? Would music make your top 5?

An example of someone's Top 5 Loves:

1. George Foreman Grill
2. NHL
3. Mom
4. Husband
5. Music

In other words, how do you show music that you really care?

comments () |

 

Adventures in Technology: Billie Tweets

This is pretty awesome.

Michael Jackson's video for "Billie Jean" has been linked up to a keyword search on Twitter. Thus, when you play the video, tweets featuring the lyrics appear on screen in time with the song.

Check out the wizardry at billietweets.com.

Picture%202.png

comments () |

 
June 29, 2009

Follow Monitor Mix on Facebook

Occasionally when I use my Facebook account to comment on my fellow NPR staffer's updates, those comments are followed by friend requests from people whom I don't know. And, I'm sorry to say, I only accept requests from people whom I'm friends with in real life. Thus, I've decided to set up a Facebook page for Monitor Mix.

This way I can accept friend requests from whomever, whenever, and for any reason. Or not. And I can send you updates whenever I post, updates you'll likely get in advance of any other notification about my blog.

Plus, I've already put up a wacky photo of me in too-large sunglasses.

Become a friend of Monitor Mix by clicking here.

Thanks.

comments () |

 

The Pixies Play Doolittle, But Do We Care?

NME announced today that the Pixies will embark on a 'Doolittle' tour in conjunction with the 20th year anniversary of that album.

This news makes the Pixies the latest band--following in the footsteps of everyone from Public Enemy to Sonic Youth to Slint--to play one of their classic albums in its entirety.

To resurrect an album and to adhere to a--gasp--sequence in the age of singles and iPod shuffle seems a strange and slightly anachronistic endeavor. Don't get me wrong, I love the idea; it's like a return to AOR (Album Oriented Rock, for those of you too to know this term), except within a live context and with other fans as fellow witnesses.

I wonder, however, if the album format--either recorded or live-is too contradictory to our contemporary listening habits. Might not we prefer a carefully crafted set list; one that would prevent too many slow songs from occurring in a row or ensure a variety of tempos? And what if all of our favorite songs are spread out over a few different records? I mean, who wants to hear those contemplative songs that don't sound as good without the dulcimer and horn section that were added during the recording?

I'm sort of playing devil's advocate here. After all, I'm more than disappointed if an artist turns out to only have one good song on an album. Or, if an album is mostly filler in order to prop up the one hit track. To me, that's not a statement, it's a hiccup.

But getting back to Doolittle, it certainly is my favorite Pixies album, and the one that broke them out of the college-band bubble. Naturally, I'd have to give myself a refresher course on the less obvious tracks, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't love them anew. In fact, one reason I'd like to see the Pixies perform the whole of the album would be to get a glimpse into the process, or into the cohesion of the songs, one that I might have missed the first time around.

Perhaps these resurrected albums, met with new perspective and adoration by both fans and the bands alike, will mark a return to album-making and album appreciation. Either that or we'll feel a momentary nostalgia for the old LPs, cassette tapes, and CDs but then go and make a mix on our iPods that's just a collection of singles and our favorite songs.

For about how long do you listen to an album in it's entirety and in the intended sequence before you get in there and mess with it? Thoughts on the 'Doolittle' tour or bands playing their classic albums? Please chime in.

comments () |

 

Novelty Songs

This weekend I was visiting some friends up in Washington State where I awoke on Sunday morning to the voice of Allan Sherman coming through the living room stereo speakers. Who is Allan Sherman, you ask? Well, he was a musician, comedian, and satirist popular in the 1950s and '60s. Allan's early work parodied old folk tunes and was aimed largely at the Jewish, Borscht Belt audiences. But he grew in popularity when he began skewering broader and more mainstream cultural topics. His most famous song was one you've likely heard, "Hello Mudduh, Hello Fadduh," which miraculously made it to #2 on the Billboard Hot 100 Chart in 1963.

While listening to Sherman, I was reminded of a tune my high school chemistry teacher used to help us memorize the periodic tables: Tom Lehrer's "Elements Song." And then I started to wonder, what exactly happened to the novelty song?

Novelty songs, of course, are close cousins if not interchangeable with comedy songs. Though the novelty song tends to be more closely aligned with a fad, dance, or event.
Anyone remember the "Superbowl Shuffle?" Lest you forgot:

So, perhaps music-inspired comedians like Dimitri Martin and Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement of Flight of the Conchords are carrying on the tradition of novelty songs, or at least are crafting a new version of the genre. Yet, I would argue that the chief difference between those artists and, say, "Weirld" Al Yankovic is a lack parody and the addition of, dare I say, earnestness.

If anything, it's a medium like YouTube that has replaced the novelty song. What is YouTube if not novelties delivered to us 24-7 by none other than, um, us; a group of amateurs parodying, commenting, and imitating bigger budgeted and supposedly more legitimate forms? YouTube has turned our whole lives into a novelty, so why should we need actual novelty songs?

So, if we are bidding farewell to the novelty songs of yore, let's at least take a gander at a handful of memorable ones.

Do you have any favorite novelty songs? Or do you feel like there are any current and noteworthy practitioners of the genre? Please share.

comments () |

 
June 26, 2009

The Film Industry Calls Out The Music Industry For Its General Suckiness

The Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences already announced one major change this week: they are doubling the amount of films nominated for Best Picture from five to 10. When I heard the news, my first thought was that instead of feeling confounded as to why three of the five movies were nominated, I would now scratch my head over at least seven or eight of them. Does this mean that The Hangover will get an Oscar nod? One can only hope. I can't help but feel cynical and think that it's merely the Academy's attempt to appeal to more viewers when it comes to televising the Oscars. Instead of being able to acknowledge the work of more filmmakers and better quality films, I have a feeling that a larger Best Picture category is merely going to reveal a depressing thinness to the category and to the industry itself.

And today we got another announcement from the Academy. Whereas they are hedging their bets that there will be at least 10 award-worthy movies next year, apparently they have very little confidence in the music being made for films. That's right: if no films' original songs are good enough, there won't even be a Best Song category. You can read all about the new rating system here.

Sure, we can all acknowledge that there hasn't been a "Singin' in the Rain" since, well, 1952's Singin' in the Rain (which didn't even win the Oscar, by the way). Not even anything from The Sound of Music won an award, and most of us have that entire soundtrack memorized. I guess back in the day there was too much great film music from which to choose.

And you might wonder, who has won a Best Song Oscar in the past? Here are some examples:

1961 - "Moon River" (Breakfast at Tiffany's)
1962 - "Days of Wine and Roses" (Days of Wine and Roses)
1964 - "Chim Chim Cher-ee" (Mary Poppins)
1969 - "Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head" (Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid)
1971 - "Theme from Shaft" (Shaft)
1972 - "The Morning After" (The Poseidon Adventure)
1973 - "The Way We Were" (The Way We Were)
1975 - "I'm Easy" (Nashville)
1977 - "You Light Up My Life" (You Light Up My Life)
1980 - "Fame" (Fame)
1981 - "Arthur's Theme (Best That You Can Do)" (Arthur)
1983 - "Flashdance...What A Feeling" (Flashdance)
1984 - "I Just Called to Say I Love You" (The Woman In Red)

Hmm ... maybe the Academy does have a point. Many of us could probably sing along to or are at least familiar with all of the above tunes. Below is a sampling of more recent winners. How many of these do you know?

2000 - "Things Have Changed" (Wonder Boys)
2001 - "If I Don't Have You" (Monsters, Inc.)
2002 - "Lose Yourself" (8 Mile)
2003 - "Into the West" (Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King)
2004 - "Al Otro Lado Del Rio" (The Motorcycle Diaries)
2005 - "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp" (Hustle and Flow)
2006 - "I Need to Wake Up" (An Inconvenient Truth)
2007 - "Falling Slowly" (Once)
2008 - "Jai Ho" (Slumdog Millionaire)

I'll admit: except for the two hip hop songs and the tunes from Slumdog and Once, I couldn't hum a single note.

So have movie theme songs gotten bad, or are they just no longer memorable? And whose fault is that? And why is one industry punishing another when there is a mutual increase of mediocrity on both sides? Lastly, do you have any favorite movie theme songs? As always, feel free to share.

I know: I'll just listen to "Flashdance (What A Feeling)" while I mull this over. I know all the lyrics.

comments () |

 

Lisa Marie Presley Writes About Michael Jackson

Pretty heavy and revealing words from one of the only people to have been close to two of the biggest music stars ever to have lived.

From Lisa Marie's MySpace page:

"I am going to say now what I have never said before because I want the truth out there for once.

Our relationship was not "a sham" as is being reported in the press. It was an unusual relationship yes, where two unusual people who did not live or know a "Normal life" found a connection, perhaps with some suspect timing on his part. Nonetheless, I do believe he loved me as much as he could love anyone and I loved him very much.

I wanted to "save him" I wanted to save him from the inevitable which is what has just happened."

Read what Lisa Marie wrote in its entirety here.

comments () |

 

Why Michael Jackson Was A Big Deal

If you haven't already, please check out my initial post about Michael Jackson's death, as well as NPR Music's exhaustive coverage of the events of the last 24 hours.

I don't know what it was like for you all, but just about every Facebook post I looked at yesterday was about Michael Jackson. And I'm not on Twitter, but I can imagine that the reaction has been even more fervent in that world. [It has. --ed.] Michael Jackson's albums are currently taking up the top 14 spots on Amazon's bestseller list. And right now, I'm listening to BBC's World Have Your Say on my local NPR affiliate, where people are calling in from as far away as Antarctica to share their thoughts about the pop legend.

The majority of the posts and feedback I've been reading and listening to are tinged with sweetness, sadness and nostalgia. Yet some people are wondering how we can forget or overlook the ugliness that marred Jackson's personal life, from child-molestation charges to questionable parenting.

For many of us -- and I think this is why there's a lot of unabashed adoration and disbelief in the wake of his death -- we've never known a world without Michael Jackson. From the time we were young enough to even know what music was, we've been fascinated and awed by Jackson. And in a pre-Internet, pre-computer age, knowing that there were fans all around the world listening to the very same songs as we were, it was the first time we got a sense of how close we could feel to people we would never meet, living in countries we might never visit.

We take globalism for granted today, but back when a lot of us had yet to travel outside our own cities, states or countries, Michael Jackson was the first person to blanket our world, to connect us through fandom and song. He was a huge force in making our small and young lives feel massive, at least vicariously. As a kid, there's not much more you desire than to feel part of something larger than you.

Favorite memories of Michael Jackson? Why did he mean something to you? Feel free to share.

comments () |

 
June 25, 2009

June 25, 2009: Michael Jackson Is Gone

As you know by now, because you read about it or saw it on TV, because someone sent you a text message, or called you, or because your fellow employees have sent out countless email tributes and are now playing "Billie Jean" over the loudspeaker: Michael Jackson is dead.

Those are frightening words to write. They are more scary than any paparazzi photo of Jackson's nose crumbling to pieces; stranger than images of his faceless children wearing shrouds while shopping at the mall; creepier than his rumored skin disease, the burnt hair, the molestation allegations and trial, his chimpanzee confidante and Neverland combined. Michael Jackson is dead, and now we have to come to terms with who he was and what it means to have him gone.

Read more, after the jump.

Continue reading "June 25, 2009: Michael Jackson Is Gone" »

comments () |

 
June 23, 2009

Committed To Memory

The other afternoon, much to my chagrin, I busted out the lyrics and melody to a song by Wilson Phillips called "Impulsive." Yes, I did own their album and, yes, that song would be considered a '"deep cut." Not to worry, I have their mega-hits "Hold On" and "Release Me" committed to memory, as well. And how did these gems find their way back into my conscious mind? How else? Watching someone sing them at karaoke! Ugh. Thanks to an entertaining and whiskey-filled evening, I now spend my days with the sweet, sweet melodies of Carnie, Wendy and Chynna.

We all know that setting anything to music is an excellent -- and sometimes inadvertent -- mnemonic device. It accounts for how we learned the ABCs, why we remember the entirety of the Free to Be You and Me album and why the surviving members of Blind Melon still receive royalties. (The bee girl? "No Rain"? Anyone?) Music is memory's ally, whether we want it to be or not.

Read and see more, after the jump.

Continue reading "Committed To Memory" »

comments () |

 
June 18, 2009

Vocal Styles: Whiny, Tiny Or Just Fine-y

What's your preferred vocal style? And what vocal style or trend makes your skin crawl?

Sure, most of us will be charitable and say we're catholic in our tastes; that we like all sorts of singing styles. But, come on, let's be honest: There's always one to which we're drawn, one that if we went through our music collection, we'd realize we've been choosing over others.

Perhaps it's easier to know what we don't like. For myself, and with few exceptions, I can't stand vocals that are wispy and fey. They make me want to yell, "Speak up, I can't hear you!" or "Grow a pair!" Maybe what I don't like about this style is that it makes me feel like the vocalist fell down a well and needs saving. Or that they're so precious, a feather could knock them over. But mostly, it's because this sorry-to-be-a-bother-but-I-have-something-to-say vocal style is easy; it takes more guts to sound strong, scary or weird, to leap for a high or low note with your whole being, or to sound like the song has possessed you. Another annoying trait: baby voices, and that includes whiners. Unless you ARE a baby, let's use our adult voice, okay?

Who do I make exceptions for? Elliott Smith, Cat Power, Judee Sill and Shirley Collins, to name just a few. And I make exceptions because there's darkness in their songs that isn't merely being hinted at in the lyrics. Any fragility in their voices is keeping a demon at bay; it's not there for effect so much as for solace, and their voice is part of the story as opposed to being the only element that makes the story interesting.

Singers I like:

Read (and watch) more, after the jump...

Continue reading "Vocal Styles: Whiny, Tiny Or Just Fine-y" »

comments () |

 
June 16, 2009

Here's Your Late Pass: Right Music, Wrong Time

First, there were the originators: Kraftwerk, Neu!, The Cure, Joy Division, Gang of Four, The Sonics, The Wailers and Link Wray, to name but a few. From electronic to post-punk to garage and blues, each genre had its own progenitors and its own set of prominent years. And then, more recently, each of these sounds had a resurrection. But before the tidal wave of revivalists, before Interpol and Bloc Party paraded around like post-punks and before The White Stripes re-ignited garage, there were artists who had already borrowed, re-imagined and paid tribute.

These bands -- like The Gories and The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion -- were also influenced by the early sounds, but wore their influence on their sleeves long before most everyone else caught up. Then there was the sadly overlooked Prima Donnas from Austin, Texas, who piled copious amounts of keyboards onto the stage and delivered a brand of character-driven new-wave songs in the mid-'90s, while everyone else in indie rock played guitars. And what about Flin Flon and Air Miami? Two groups led by Mark Robinson (also of Unrest), one a bass-heavy post-punk-inspired band, the other more dance-driven, both bands possessing a sound that wouldn't be popularized again until almost a decade later. And, of course, The Magnetic Fields, who were borrowing from the synthed-out pop sounds of the early '80s long before everyone else was.

There have always been bands that came along too soon; at least that's what it feels like in hindsight. Take, for example, the Olympia bands Karp and Tight Bros From Way Back When, or The Murder City Devils from Seattle. Influenced by Black Sabbath, Cheap Trick, MC5, et al, not a whole lot of people got on board with their heavy sound back in their day. Then, years later, when every disenfranchised high-school kid was embracing Korn and hipsters were going gaga over The Darkness and then Mastodon, Karp, Tight Bros and MCD were long gone. Despite metal and hard rock making a comeback, and being much more married to indie-rock coolness, the groups that were too far ahead of the curve were all but forgotten, or at least didn't get to reap the benefits. (A-ha! Maybe this is what reunion tours are for!)

When a band or artist isn't tied to a larger movement, when they aren't part of the first wave, nor part of the second wave, then where does their influence or importance lie? It's difficult for a band not to be bolstered by a larger context, and to exist as a musical outsider in its own scene, appreciated as more of a novelty because of how differentiated it is from everyone else. It's not that these bands that were ahead of their time weren't loved; they were, at least by some, but they didn't have the momentum. They weren't part of a zeitgeist. Instead, these early revivalists exist in a sort of musical no-man's land. They brought us back to an earlier musical era and reminded us of a sound, but I guess most of us weren't quite ready to hear it.

Feel free to list bands or artists who were resurrecting or borrowing from various musical genres long before it was trendy to do so.

comments () |

 
June 11, 2009

Forever Young: Graduation Songs

Remember high-school graduation? I do. As I sat on stage along with the rest of the graduating class of 1992, watching a slide show culled from childhood photos of horseback-riding and hey-mom-look-at-me playground poses, we listened to the tunes of none other than Cat Stevens. "Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning / Born of the one light, Eden saw play / Praise with elation, praise every morning / God's re-creation of the new day," he sang on "Morning Has Broken." And we cried, even though that song came out before most of us were born. Then came another Stevens' song, this time "Wild World," which was probably meant as a warning before we were to leave the safety of our sheltered suburban homes. After all, we would soon discover the awful truth: that it IS hard to get by just upon a smile.

You'd think that in Redmond, Wash. -- located 20 minutes outside of Seattle, a.k.a. the birthplace of grunge -- we'd be listening to Nirvana, whose "Smells Like Teen Spirit" had been released back at the beginning of the school year. In fact, we would have settled for "Black" by Pearl Jam, a song we listened to at house parties all year long, sloppily drunk on Boone's Wine and Jello shooters. Some of the guys would write out the lyrics on a notebook during the party, just to drive the message home: "I know someday you'll have a beautiful life / I know you'll be a sun in somebody else's sky / but why, why, why can't it be, can't it be mine?" Yep, we thought that a song expressing our anger over someone who dumped us after three weeks of romance during sophomore year would have been a perfect summation of the entirety of our pre-college schooling. Maybe that's why we didn't get to choose the music.

Personally, I'd always been jealous of kids who got to graduate to "School's Out" by Alice Cooper or "F--- School" by The Replacements. The latter might just have been a rumor perpetuated by my friend's older brother. After all, what parent wants to imagine a proverbial middle finger directed at higher education, something for which many of them were about to pay?

Truth be told, most graduation music isn't contemporary -- or at the very least, it isn't angry, sarcastic or rebellious. People want to cry at graduation; especially parents and grandparents, but also the students. We want sentimental, cheesy and trite advice sung to us by bands. We want to forget each godawful thing that happened to us over the years and give over-effusive hugs to even our worst enemies. There is even that moment when we think, 'Let's be friends, even though we've had 12 years to be friends, but never were.'

Green Day has written a song perfect for graduations: "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)." And Vitamin C cut to the chase and put out a song called "Graduation (Friends Forever)," basically securing herself a place in the musical canon whereas otherwise she'd be miles outside of it, surely forgotten by now.

Advice to any band worried about its legacy: Write a song about growing up, changing, making friends, keeping them, loving your family and fearing the future, while also knowing that everything is going to be okay in the end. Oh, and you might want to imply that high school was the best time you've ever had, and that things might be downhill from here on out. Finally, try to maintain a sense of hope even if one of the verses gets dark and talks about "the accident," "Robitussin overdose" or "Daddy's belt." Mostly, it's important to remind people of what it all means: Today is the greatest, we are the champions, and it's the laughter we will remember, whenever we remember, the way we were.

So, what songs did you listen to on graduation day? And what elements, in your opinion, make the best or worst graduation songs?

Here's a song that I think fits the criteria:

comments () |

 
June 8, 2009

My Night With Dionne Warwick

Over the weekend, I drove out to Spirit Mountain Casino in Grand Ronde, Ore., to see Dionne Warwick perform. I had never seen Warwick in concert, and I wasn't sure what exactly to expect. For one, the casino setting can be a bit sterile, not to mention surreal. Perhaps in Vegas or Atlantic City, casino performances entail linen-covered round tables and cocktail waitresses, but in rural Oregon, all it means is a carpeted room, a "no alcohol beyond this point" sign and folding chairs. For another, Warwick is in her late 60s, so I was aware that she might have lost the vocal range necessary to sing all of her hits.

On account of traffic, I arrived at the venue about 15 minutes late. The show began at 8 p.m., and whereas that time might merely be a guesstimate at an average rock show, for Warwick -- and for anyone showing up in a walker or wheeling in on a Rascal -- 8 o'clock means 8 o'clock. Sharp. As they say in Facebook parlance, "I like it."

My friend and I walked in right as Warwick launched into "Alfie." I then witnessed what would become protocol for the rest of the show -- namely, that it's okay to remain seated as long as you leap up or make an audible gasp every time a song you like begins. For the leaping-up part, I took cues from an 80-year old woman in a pink sweatshirt with a built-in collar a few rows ahead of me. I figured that if she could jump to her feet and applaud with alacrity, heck, so could I. As for the gasp, I needed no prompting; half the crowd and I let out a collective "ahhh" when the band kicked in with "What the World Needs Now."

As for Warwick herself, she's a master. Her voice, though not what it used to be, is still impressive: easy-going, cool and distinct. But what awed me the most were her showmanship and her diva-begins-and-ends-with-me attitude. With Dionne Warwick, you feel like she's really earned the right to boss you around.

As an audience, we first got schooled when we offered tepid, thanks-for-playing-along applause during the introduction of her band. Warwick pointed out that she and her band were up on stage working, and that our cheering was not merely a learned and obligatory response, but real nourishment for them. So, that's right, we had to do it again. Later on, we weren't quite loud enough during a sing-along, and after a quick lesson in voice projection, we belted out a chorus a cappella, three times in a row. Another "pearl of wisdom" (her term) thrown our way: whenever you sneeze, your heart stops, so when people say "God bless you" in response, they are saying it because He really has blessed us with starting our hearts back up. We loved it. We ate it up. We laughed knowingly and exchanged glances with the people next to us.

Then, after a rousing, hand-gesture-filled version of "That's What Friends Are For," the concert was over. It was 9 p.m. on the dot. One word: Professional. Okay, another word: Raindrops.

Raindrops was the name of the casino bar we hit up after the show, only because we'd heard Warwick would be there. And she was. In a denim button-up shirt and glasses (a getup that made her look almost identical to my grandmother), smoking a cigarette and drinking some bubbly, Warwick and her band hung out and listened to the tunes of someone named DJ George, a.k.a. The Mixologist.

During a mystifying Kid Rock tune, I got up the nerve and ventured over to Warwick's table to tell her that I loved the show. Our "conversation" should have ended there. Instead, I tried to engage her in a discussion about Northern Soul music and talk to her about how no one was dancing to this particular DJ. She nodded her head along to the Kid Rock song while her friend warned me not to dis Detroit. I scurried back to my seat without the picture I had every intention of getting.

Then we hit the casino, where I proceeded to lose $20 in five minutes. And, while I have a long way to go and am still working on my composure and gravitas, Dionne Warwick has always been -- and still is -- a class act.

I feel lucky to have seen Warwick while she's still performing. If you have any stories from seeing musical legends in concert -- or meeting them -- feel free to share.

comments () |

 
June 4, 2009

Movie Review: Until The Light Takes Us

The other night, I saw a special screening of the film Until the Light Takes Us, directed by Audrey Ewell and Aaron Aites. Still reeling from my love affair with Anvil: The Story of Anvil, I returned to Portland's Hollywood Theatre to see what I hoped would be another inspiring music documentary. After all, how could you go wrong with the fascinating and mysterious subject of Norwegian black metal? There are church burnings, pagan rituals, murder, suicide and face paint! What more could you ask for?

Until the Light Takes Us' trailer:

Until the Light Takes Us aims to "reveal the true story behind the music," to dispel the rumors of Satanism and abductions, to give the progenitors of the genre a forum in which to tell their story, and to explore the ramifications of a movement thrust into and misinterpreted by the mainstream. Unfortunately, and I can't entirely explain how this happened, I left the theatre more confused than I was before entering -- not only about black metal, but also about art and how people get funding for their projects.

Until the Light Takes Us makes no attempt to contextualize black metal, either in terms of the broader Norwegian culture or in terms of musical predecessors. A few shots of Subway and T.G.I.Fridays in Oslo hardly justify or explain anti-Semitism and church-burning. There have been plenty of artists and genres aside from black metal that eschew cultural imperialism and capitalism, from punk rockers to stalwart indie bands. So why is so much black metal specific to Norway and not to France, New Zealand, Canada or Mexico? And who were these black-metal artists listening to and reading that led them down a path of atonal, angry music and extreme anti-Christian and anti-American sentiment?

Photos from the black-metal scene:

In addition to not providing any substantial context or history for black metal, Until The Light Takes Us is a structural mess. The film begins with Gylve Nagell, a.k.a. Fenriz, a member of the band Darkthrone. Nagell is a poor central figure for the film. Aside from expressing disappointment about the cooption of black-metal music and aesthetics by the mainstream, he provides no unique insight.

Or perhaps the directors were asking the wrong questions. Whether with Nagell, or with the far more complex Varge Vikernes of the band Barzum, far too many questions were left unanswered. How did these bands form? What were the early shows like? What is the songwriting process? How does it differ from other forms of music? How did the audiences change over time? Not to mention still more questions about the murder committed by Vikernes, for which he served 16 years of a 21-year sentence.

Vikernes at the reading of his sentence.

Lastly, and I'll be blunt, where was the footage of the bands playing?! A few minutes of found footage that looked and sounded like it was shot from inside a washing machine hardly suffices.

In a post-screening Q&A, Audrey Ewell and Aaron Aites said that they wanted to let the musicians tell their own story, and to not get in their way. But this is a documentary, and for the directors to claim that they didn't make editorial choices or shape the narrative is absolute bull. Most frustrating was how condescending and defensive Aites was during the questions. More than once, Aites actually said, "You'll have to take that up with Varg." He was also unable to answer the "Why Norway?" question, except to revert back to the intrusion of American culture on Norway. Yes, but that's the case almost anywhere. Nor was Aites able to respond to historical questions about religion and the church burnings. I guess the audience assumed, wrongly, that the directors of a supposedly definitive documentary might be able to provide further information about their subject.

An interview with the directors.


Until the Light Takes Us - Junket - For more of the funniest videos, click here

I rushed home from the theatre and had to watch another movie in order to cleanse my palette. It was bad, but it was a mainstream Hollywood romantic comedy/thriller, so I gave it some leeway. I do not, however, have much patience for poorly constructed and naive music documentaries.

Anyone know anything about black metal? Please share.

comments () |

 
June 2, 2009

Beth Ditto, Eaten Alive

In case you haven't noticed, The Gossip (and, in particular, lead singer Beth Ditto) is famous. In Europe, and especially in the U.K., Ditto is a bona fide celebrity. She's designing her own line of clothing for a British department store, a doll is being created in her likeness, she's been on the cover of numerous magazines (including a naked shot on the cover of NME), Alexander McQueen and Karl Lagerfeld are making clothes for her, she had an advice column in a major newspaper, and she's a staple of the tabloids. Yep, famous. However, if you live in the U.S., Ditto's celebrity, or even The Gossip's music itself -- Southern bluesy rock and R&B turned '80s disco -- might be lost on you. Not to fear: Once the band's upcoming album Music for Men is released, you'll likely be aware of their presence. The Gossip is hard to ignore. But it always has been, particularly if you've witnessed a live show.

Ditto's infamous NME cover.

522514950_bfb448770a.jpg

Ditto on the cover of Love magazine.

n508906576_1878287_3788.jpg

The first time I saw The Gossip was in Olympia, Wash., in 1998 or '99. It was at a house party on the east side of town. I was sitting on a porch when the band started. I watched a few seconds from the window and then ran (as in, literally ran) inside. I stood in the front near the speaker with my head spinning. The singer's voice swallowed the entire room, and the riffs were dirty and warped, sultry and garage-y. Perfect, really, and revelatory.

In 2000, my band took The Gossip on its first-ever tour. The first show was in Minneapolis at First Avenue. The stage is impossibly high there; it's just you staring out at the top of the audience's heads and their fingertips on the edge of the stage. The Gossip was the first of three bands. Its members got on stage as if they'd been playing stadiums for years, as if First Avenue were just another basement to conquer. They owned it that night and for every night thereafter, and each night we had to earn it back from them, which is exactly what you want it to be like. Best opening band we've ever had.

So the other day, my friend forwards me a review of a Gossip show from The Guardian (a British newspaper, one of the biggest) by a writer named Elizabeth Day. The U.K. press covers Ditto the same way they cover everything, like a rabid stalker. But for how obsessed they are with Ditto, they aren't really talking about her music, or maybe it's that they can't. They can't, because they're always talking about her size and her weight. And, unlike here in the U.S., people in the U.K. know about Ditto and they know what she looks like, so you'd think that a single sentence describing her physique might suffice. But apparently it doesn't. Here, then, is a dissection of this incredibly silly piece of journalism.

Let's start with the title: "Voice, Physique...It's Bigness as Usual for Beth." "Bigness as usual"? Are you kidding? I'm going to give Elizabeth Day a break and assume that this pun was a poor editorial choice.

Second paragraph: "So much has been written about Beth Ditto's physical size (15 stone and a shade over 5ft) it is easy to forget that by far the largest thing about her is her voice."

Okay, fine, Ditto's weight is mentioned -- now, let's move on. But apparently avoiding any mention of Beth's size is harder than one thought. Here's this sentence from the fourth paragraph: "While her voice might be big, her physical presence is equally noticeable." Right, we get it.

And then, and this is my favorite part of the article, the writer decides that she'll avoid writing about Beth's weight, but still cleverly allude to it by using food metaphors. Witness: "The result is one of sheer exhilaration, each song so tightly packed with elements of soul, gospel, punk and joyous electropop that the musical layers pile up like an enormous club sandwich that shouldn't work but somehow does." A club sandwich?! Yum.

And then, the topper: "In an industry overrun by tweeny pop starlets manufactured like Dairylea cheese triangles, Ditto stands out like a ripe Camembert, white flesh spilling luxuriously out of her underwear."

Wow, I think this is the first time I've ever heard a singer, let alone a woman, likened to a piece of cheese. I actually think that Elizabeth Day was looking at Beth Ditto and getting hungry. Maybe Day is jealous that Beth Ditto can be herself and be famous. And the reason Ditto is famous is that she's incredibly talented, not to mention unique. Perhaps Day, like many of the other people obsessing over and writing incessantly about Ditto's weight, are experiencing the sad realization that most of us have bought in to a certain idealized version of beauty, so much so that we're willing to starve ourselves, skip meals, politely decline dessert and feel intense shame and scrutiny about our bodies. Moreover, and certainly there is truth to this, we feel like in order to be successful we need to look a certain way. And then here comes Beth Ditto, proving that the combination of talent, confidence and just not giving a s--- trumps all. So what does Day do? She looks at Beth Ditto and thinks of a club sandwich. Why? Because she probably wishes she could eat 10 of them a day and still keep her job.

The Gossip has been on fire for ten years. Beth Ditto is one of the most amazing singers and performers in contemporary music. And since I referenced eating in the title of this piece, here's some more: The Gossip is large and in charge, immense, super-sized, two scoops, pizza, milkshakes, Big Macs, movie-theater popcorn with butter flavoring, and second servings. Big f------ deal.

Thoughts about The Gossip, about Beth Ditto, about the difference between U.S. and U.K. media coverage of the band, about skinny or fat female performers? Feel free to share.

comments () |

 

Carrie Brownstein

Carrie Brownstein

Carrie Brownstein is a writer and musician. She was a member of the critically acclaimed rock band Sleater-Kinney. Her writing has appeared in 'The New York Times,' 'The Believer,' 'Pitchfork,' and various book anthologies on music and culture. Read Carrie's F.A.Q.

 

More NPR Music Blogs

All Songs Considered

The All Songs Considered Blog

A behind-the-scenes look at the show and the music.



A Blog Supreme

A Blog Supreme

from NPR Jazz

An ongoing conversation about jazz.



More music blogs>>