St. Monday and the Ignorants

Yay Pat Robertson! Finally a reading of the Bible that allows for the openly-planned assassination of foreign leaders! Communists and Muslim Extrmeists, oh my! What kind of a genius found a way to update stale old McCarthyism? Not Ann Coulter! It's Pat! Who found a clever way to reinvoke the almost 200-year-old Monroe Doctrine? Not John Ashcroft! It's Pat! Praise the lord and pass the federally-funded ammunition! Pat is force with which to be reckoned! And how do we justify such an act of aggression? Hell, Pat don't even need Jesus for that one! Pat just says it would save money! It's not more humanitarian or what jesus would do, it's "cheaper than starting a war"! The invisible hand strikes again! Put the smackdown on Chavez and Jesus don't even need to get off the la-z-boy!

While this site was launched primarily as a promo tool for St. Monday etc., the ramblings of the Drunken Bee and the sporadic quality of pitchforkmedia reviews authorize my current diatribe against the website docent of all things hip and Stephen M. Deusner in particular. It's clear that, post-Uncle Tupelo, pitchfork has unambiguously aligned itself with the Jeff Tweedy camp, giving serious attention to the musical product of Wilco, while essentially writing off the efforts of Jay Farrar and his vehicle, Son Volt. Tweedy is the experimental pop genius; Farrar the earnest dope with one string to strum. Deusner's review of Son Volt's latest album is par for the course: the music's decent, the vocals ok if you like Farrar's sort of thing. But the kicker is that Deusner blasts the record for attempting to be a collection of protest songs while in fact only being "songs about protest songs." It's too abstracted, not direct enough to have any political valence; the same Fredric Jameson, Georg Lukacs, Mike Gold, who-have-you that we've heard a million times before. Yeah, you're right Deusner! I only listen to protest songs with lyrics like: "Mercedes head Eckhard Cordes is resigning. Dieter Zetsche, who becomes DaimlerChrysler's CEO next year, will assume his duties." I think it's been established over many decades that lyrical content can have a political valence while not necessarily utlizing strictly denotative language. Actually, one can do that while writing what most of us are accustomed to calling "lyrics."

Oh, and as for the song "Jet Pilot" as "some disgusted sarcasm toward (you guessed it) Bush," dude, what the hell were you listening to? There's nothing at all disgusted in those lyrics; they're actually extremely ambivalent, conjuring the image of a guy who likes to "let his hair down" while "lov[ing] to see the [Texas] Rangers play." "Jet Pilot," for those with ears, is an extremely ambivalent and almost sympathetic portrait of Bush the younger -- for Pete (Dopieralski)'s sake, who wouldn't mind watching a Rangers game, especially if Texeira's in top form? The idea in that song is that there is a dangerously thin line between "genuine" Americana and the enjoyment thereof, and the distortion of that culture into an aggressive imperialistic regime.

I, for one, am somebody who is done listening to pitchfork reviews for genuine analysis of content. Unless you get someone who is really familiar with the band or movement reviewed, you're getting a hatchet job by a careerist hack. Read their news; it's helpful and informative. Laugh at their reviews, or else the blogosphere will be overfull with rants like this one.

I saw the cleanup after some kind of high-rise fire; I heard a samba band play; I heard ambient sounds from the Pritzker Pavilion as the Grant Park Orchestra played some 20th-c piece;

I ran across the BP bridge over Columbus drive (both of the previous designed by Frank Gehry);

I ran through the rose garden in Milennium Park (sorry no pic); I saw a red moon rise over Lake Michigan; I saw a brontosaurus;

I saw a tiny yellow bird.

Too many nyc blogs out there...chicago is clearly where the proverbial two turnables con microphone may be found.

Wow! Two posts in one day! Either a lot has happened or I must need work on typing skills. But in fact the true answer is that I discovered the "Add Image" button on the toolbar and I was inspired. Thus we see, as Adorno reminds us from beyond the grave, that the materiality of the artwork is more than merely incidental to its aesthetics.

This post refers not so much to recent happenings as to the Brighton Technical Academy three-year reunion bash, which took place in Manhattan and Brooklyn from July 21-28. It seemed like those three years had just flown by. Of course you've heard from our old professor, Prof. McTweedpants. How provocative and cute he truly was. I'll never forget his seminar on Foucault and exfoliation:

OK, so I just wrote a longish post about this fantastic band out of Chicago called The Changes. Then the blogger server broke. Suffice to say that this was the only unsigned band at this year's Lollapalooza, although they certainly were also among the best of the bands signed or not. It's a little new-wavey at times, Police (w/out Sting's ego), melancholy here and upbeat there. I have a tough time describing their sound (obviously), but you should check out a couple of mp3's they have at their site. If you like them, let me know and I can find a way to get you some more.

They look like this:



You can't really tell from the pic, but the lead singer (upper left) has a real Gene Wilder-circa-original-Willie-Wonka vibe to his onstage mannerisms. If you don't believe me come to Schuba's Monday night (or the next Monday night, as The Changes are in residence there for the month of August).

I am recovering from my visit to two of the five boroughs, some of the evidence from which you may view here. I just wanted to get in some midwest props here. The Bears's season is apparently starting soon, and to celebrate a bunch of idiots gathered at Soldier Field, about two blocks from my house. They set off fireworks immediately thereafter, though, which would have been amazing but for the damn high-rise behind which they blew all the explosives. Strangely, every one failed to bring down the building. However, glancing north, I realized I could see the fireworks reflected in a building north of Grant Park (Blue Cross Bleu Cheese). This photo doesn't really get across how cool they were -- the windows made the bursts look digitized.

(In case you can't tell wch building I'm talking about, it's the squat-looking one immediately to the right of the tall, narrow one. You can kind-of see a pinkish burst reflected in it. Sorry about the focus -- it's tough from a mile away.)


fireworks