Wednesday, September 03, 2003
Here is the speech Teddy Roosevelt gave after being shot in the chest. Please note that it's got one of the best opening lines of any speech ever given.
Oh, and to retake up the Salon war: Whet argues that Salon has good technology coverage, which is absolutely wonderful for them, except that they aren't pushing themselves as a "technology" site. Any ostensibly general interest magazine with abjectly bad political coverage (I would point out that, just because they're slanted in my direction doesn't make them any less biased than Fox News) and a pack of know-nothing arts critics who, just a week ago, told me about these crazy things called mp3 mash-ups that are apparently starting to appear out on the internet. Holy crap!
And then there's... Well, there's this. I've already said my piece about the Lester Bangs book, so I'll spare you my reheated opinions. And while this story isn't nearly as annoying as its teaser -- to wit: After reading Lester Bangs' collection, you have to wonder: What would the legendary critic, who believed that music mattered, make of today's Britney and P.Diddy ludicrousness? -- would indicate, my previous thesis deserves to be extended: whenever Salon talks about popular culture, Baby Jesus weeps.
In particular, I would point you to Mr. Leonard's thoughts here:
Lester believed music mattered, and even in this age of facile overproduced musical commoditization, of Britney Spears and Toby Keith and p-diddy-puff-daddy ludicrousness, of manufactured controversy and preprogrammed stardom, of music-as-fashion and fashion-as-cultural-critique, even now we should still be furrowing our brows and raising our voices and slamming our fists on the table and declaiming to anyone and everyone in earshot that music still matters. Sure, it might be harder than ever before to push our way through the shrouds obscuring us from the real shit, to try to pry out some sliver of authenticity from the truckloads and truckloads of odious stinking garbage that surrounds us at every remove, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't make the effort. And it does mean that now, more than ever, we need Lester.
First: I am always perplexed by the fact that, whenever anyone weighs in on Lester Bangs, they feel the need to do a horrible Lester Bangs imitation. While it appears Mr. Leonard has been doing yeoman's work covering the many different ways the Man is trying to keep you from your Internet, both his style and his interests seem out of synch with commenting effectively on L. Bangs, particularly a work of essentially speculative fiction on the subject of L. Bangs and what he might think of music today. While I'm sure Mr. Leonard's knowledge about "cyberpunk" (sigh) novels is far vaster than mine, I am prepared to say that, when it comes to popular culture, Mr. Leonard does not know what he's talking about.
In particular, badly executed stylistic ventriloquism aside, Mr. Leonard appears unaware of two points. First, regarding his statement "manufactured controversy and preprogrammed stardom, of music-as-fashion and fashion-as-cultural-critique" (this as an assertion of what music is like now, relative to some mythical then): pop music has always been about this stuff. The only big change was at some point where the "manufactured controversy" and "preprogrammed stardom"
posted by Squinty McGinty 4:53 PM
Tuesday, September 02, 2003
Oh, and Road Trip, which I watched last night and very early morning while doing work in total desperation for background noise (maybe one day I will post here about my hypochondriacal fear that I have tinnitus): this movie is nearly as bad as I thought it would be, except for the scene where the martian-looking skinny dork comes out of a faint at an African American frat party, gets drunk and proceeds to dance in this ridiculous giddy way. What's great is that the movie, by putting him in beatific slo-mo and synching him with the music in a way he can't do himself, ratifies his moment. For a moment, he's neither a punchline nor a comitragic sap: he is glorious.
posted by Squinty McGinty 11:23 AM
I'm a polemic Big Boi fan, if only because people are so narcotized by the obvious critical pleasures of the Andre 3000 experience that they miss out on the fact that Big Boi is, in the classical Platonic sense, incredibly dope. But the last thing I saw on TV before I moved was a making-of special about the new Andre vid off the new maybe-we're-breaking-up Outkast double CD, and when the video came on... I have not the words.
Andre 3000 in splendiforous green formalwear and wearing great Prince-in-decline long hair; another Andre 3000 playing acoustic guitar; another Andre 3000 in sunglasses playing a really beautiful Rickenbacker bass; another Andre 3000 in a beret and specs playing keyboards; yet another Andre 3000 shirtless and wearing a crown playing the drums, and a final set of three Andre 3000s singing backing vocals in glorious Kool G Rap-evoking polo regalia. And an incredibly beautiful new-wave inflected soul tune like we've come to expect from our guy. So Andre: I give. I give, I give, I give.
posted by Squinty McGinty 10:20 AM
