This Is Not News

Ever get the impression that you’re the only person listening to a given band or artist? It happens to me. It’s almost as common as the Mystery Melody Malady that overtakes me at various times of the year, compelling me to find and hear a song I know I’ve heard at some point in the past, and whether it’s through a CD purchase or a download, that curiosity must be quelled.

Okay, maybe that’s a phenomenon which is unique to me. I am, after all, a recovering ex-disc jockey, so there’s got to be something wrong with me.

But when the Mystery Melody Malady hits me, I’m likely to go digging through the CD shelf in search of music by the Umajets, the Rumour, Sunglass, Sharkbait, or any number of artists you may have never heard of, let alone heard.

I’m here to rectify that. And perhaps to inspire you to go on your own quest outside of the musical box. Read the remainder of this entry »

This article is something of a change of pace; it’s an essay I wrote in 1997 to mark the re-release of the Star Wars trilogy. We’re running it here for a few reasons. The DVD version of The Phantom Menace comes out in about a week, and you’ll be hearing a lot from Kevin, Pattie and me on that subject — so we thought it might not be a bad idea to let you have a glimpse of why some of us take these movies so seriously. Plus you can decide if my writing skills have progressed or regressed since ’97. When I reread it, though, what really struck me was that the essay describes one of the many great days I had as a New Yorker . . . right now, it just feels important to share that.

Manhattan is full of impressive sights. The Empire State Building, the World Trade Center, Central Park, and dozens of others routinely attract crowds of natives and tourists alike. On one particular Friday in January, though, none of them made me happier than the marquee of the Ziegfeld Theater, which proudly announced in huge gold letters that Star Wars returned to the big screen that day. Under the marquee, a few dozen other fans had already taken up their places in the ticket-holders’ line, two hours before showtime. My ten-year-old sister and I raced down the block to join them and cement our place in line, right next to a camera crew that was setting up for a news report. The reporter stood in front of his news van holding his microphone, shaking his head and wondering out loud what would drive presumably rational people to stand in line for hours to see a movie that was almost twenty years old.

For me, it was a matter of honor. The first time I saw Star Wars was in 1982, five years after its first opening day. Since then I have seen the film dozens of times, memorized substantial portions of dialogue, driven myself deep into debt to purchase memorabilia and spin-off products, and in short devoted entirely too-large portions of my life to a fictional galaxy far, far away. But I always felt like I missed something, like I somehow wasn’t a true fan because I had never experienced that opening-day rush. So I viewed George Lucas’ decision to commemorate the film’s twentieth anniversary with a nationwide re-release as the universe’s way of saying, “Of course, we’re sorry, you should have been there the first time. Please accept our apologies.” Read the remainder of this entry »

The Music We’ll Always Remember, The Scenes We’d Like to Forget

Remember the 80s? Sure you do! Remember those great John Hughes movies that we all loved and identified with as wealthy white suburban kids? Remember that one scene in that one movie when John Cusack or possibly one of those actors named “Judd” held up a stereo outside of his girlfriend’s window, and then some other stuff happened? Remember that? Remember? Wasn’t it great? Remember?

Shut up. Of course it wasn’t great. It was monumentally stupid, watching someone who had the potential to be a good actor standing there dressed like a Street Person, holding up a boom box in the middle of a suburban development, thinking this was a viable way of getting a woman to like him. It was awful.

But the song. Read the remainder of this entry »

One of my graduate courses last spring was a seminar in what’s currently called “public history,” which pretty much covers any historically-grounded work that’s produced by and/or intended for an audience consisting of people outside the academic historical community. Museums, monuments, and commemorative memorabilia all fall into this category; so do many forms of historically-derived entertainment, from docudramas and documentary programs like Biography, Behind the Music, or Ken Burns’ documentary films to memoirs and biographies to films and programs that claim to be ‘based on a true story.’ It’s a very wide and varied field, and while the labeling of it as ‘public history’ is something of an attempt to maintain the perceived purity of the academic discipline, it’s also a recognition that these works are more accessible to the public than many of the texts and articles that attract the attention of ‘professional’ scholars. One of the challenging questions we grappled with throughout the term was how far one can go in trying to attract the public to a historical work while still maintaining the work’s integrity. This was very clear on the first night of the seminar, as we discussed what an ‘ideal’ public history project would look like, and whether any of the historically-inspired blockbuster motion pictures had a place in serious public history.

I was seriously torn on the issue. We’ve discussed the presence of cultural myths several times on the forums; I believe that these distorted views of our own history are one of the most serious problems we face in society, because they form the bedrock of many people’s resistance to the social changes needed to address our problems. (The myth of rugged individualism, for example, is one of the reasons why reforming our school funding systems is such a challenge.) Any form of popular entertainment that perpetuates these myths — such as the historical exhibits at the Disney theme parks described in Mickey Mouse History — has something to answer for, in my opinion. I think shows like Behind the Music and Biography can be dangerous in the way they transform history into entertainment by playing up certain emotional themes and restructuring a person’s life into a relatively brief narrative; the fact that many of these programs occur with the cooperation of their subjects is another cause for skepticism.

Furthermore, I am worried that many people will see that a film is based on true events and assume — consciously or unconsciously — that what they see on the screen is what “really happened.” I love Apollo 13, for example, but the filmmakers apparently chose to play up the tension between Bill Paxon’s and Kevin Bacon’s character in a way that did not really reflect what happened during the mission. Oskar Schindler’s breakdown at the end of Schindler’s List was also a Hollywood creation, and the writers chose to create composite characters for the sake of the storyline. Dramatically, I think the former worked much better than the latter. But both films are compromised as historical works. Read the remainder of this entry »

Technology is an amazing thing. These days, all you need is a computer a few select software packages to make yourself sound like a professional musician. Often enough, these music-building applications are really built on samples and riffs played by actual professional musicians, and while it’s fun to muck about with that sort of thing, samples and an editing program do not a professional musician make.

However, I do have a romantic fascination with the concept of one person, in a studio, playing every instrument and singing every part of harmony without a backing band or other vocalists. It could be my own shyness at work, but I’ve always thought that’d be a very cool thing to do. I have a low-end consumer-grade home studio myself, and I do quite a bit of instrumental work myself along those lines. I’m not going to try harmonizing with my own vocals until the UN lifts that pesky Geneva Convention ban on my singing, though. They seem to think that my voice will do harm to nearby property and livestock. Really, those 1500 dead cows must have heard something else.

In the meantime, I can enjoy the works of others who have gone this route. I’ve chosen to focus on four favorites from my own library, so the usual disclaimers apply – these artists naturally fall within my own parameters of musical taste and as such, your aural mileage may vary. Read the remainder of this entry »

In case you haven’t noticed, the “c” word is pretty big around here. No, not “cheesesteak,” though that may run a close second. I’m talking about “community.” In fact, in some from or another, we at TINN are always talking about community. It’s why we’re here; it’s why this site exists. There are literally thousands of small online communities in existence consisting of groups of people bound together by commonalties others would find strange. In studying even one of these groups, you might be surprised to find how they define “community.” I was the first time I entered a fan fiction community.

To use the widely accepted definition, fan fiction is the reworking of the original text of a motion picture, television program, novel, or series of novels to better serve the needs or interests of a smaller community. That definition is not mine; it comes from researcher Henry Jenkins who literally tagged along with Star Trek fans for years analyzing their interactions at conventions, meetings, etc. Jenkins also came up with some general fan fiction categories, which do a great job of furthering explain what fic writers do with their source material. Here, briefly are the basics: Read the remainder of this entry »

Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era (Oxford History of the United States)
By James M. McPherson
Paperback, Ballantine Books, 904 pages

The Civil War is such a complex event that comprehensive treatments of it tend to be multi-volume affairs. How else can you capture the political tensions of the 1850s, the critical presidential election of 1860, the transformation of the economic and social systems of the Union and the Confederacy, the intricacies of tactics and strategies, and the horrible violence of the bloodiest war in American history? Battle Cry of Freedom nevertheless manages to cover all those themes over the course of its 900-page narrative, and its extensive footnotes and bibliography provide an excellent starting point for more detailed research on specific topics.

One remarkable element of the book is that almost 275 pages pass before the Confederacy fires on Fort Sumter and the war officially begins. McPherson uses those pages to carefully establish the political and social context of the time and make his argument as to the central cause of the war. Here he pulls no punches – while issues such as states’ rights and industrial expansion were bandied about, the fundamental, irreconcilable conflict between the North and South was the presence of slavery in the South and its expansion into the territories. Southern legislators were dominant in the 1850s, holding legislation such as the Homestead Act and the transcontinental railroad in check, and overturning the Missouri Compromise through the Kansas-Nebraska Act and the Dred Scott decision. Southern leaders had also been engaged in a continuous effort to conquer new territory to the south of the country and therefore extend the reach of slavery. The Republican Party was no immediate threat to any of the South’s institutions, but the election of a president from a party whose platform explicitly opposed slavery was too much for Southerners to handle. Agitators in South Carolina and other states (known as fire-eaters) almost immediately called conventions to secede, and the road to Fort Sumter was paved.

Once the shots are fired, Battle Cry of Freedom is primarily a military history, concerned with the tactics and strategy of the war, with a secondary but significant emphasis on the political maneuvering and events of the era. Here McPherson emphasizes the notion of contingency – that the course of the war was not determined by one particular advantage that the North held over the South, but instead on the outcome of particular battles that could just as easily have gone the other way. If George Meade had not effectively countered Robert E. Lee at Gettysburg, the Confederate Army may have successfully invaded Philadelphia or Baltimore. If William Tecumseh Sherman had not conquered Atlanta in the fall of 1864, Lincoln may have lost his bid for re-election and the Democrats would likely have recognized the Confederacy.

While there is a certain merit to this contingency-based approach, and the doubt about the outcome of the war that follows as a consequence makes McPherson’s narrative that much more engaging to read, it is possible he takes it too far. The North had a tremendous advantage in industrial capacity that allowed it to turn out guns, uniforms, and other military supplies while still keeping the citizenry prosperous; the Southern army was desperate for shoes and other staples by the end of the war. The Union also held a considerable edge in population, so that it could afford to wage a war of attrition against the Confederacy and simply wear it down. This in fact became a major component of the Union strategy under Ulysses S. Grant toward the end of the war. At the same time, McPherson offers cogent arguments for his thesis, so even those who disagree would do well to grapple with them.

It’s hard to use a word like “balanced” to describe a book that depicts pro-slavery Southerners as the aggressors and hails Lincoln as a great leader. However, McPherson does offer praise for many Confederates and criticism for many in the Union. (Union general and 1864 Democratic presidential candidate George McClellan, in particular, does not come off well.) His language and tone are measured and reasonable, and his claims are supported by extensive citations and evidence, including many quotations from the personal papers of the principals involved. “Objective” is also a loaded word, and inappropriate for a text that takes a stand and proceeds to defend it. Battle Cry of Freedom is, however, fair and extremely informative, even to someone who is a relative novice in military terminology, and well worth the investment of time for anyone who seeks to understand this turning point in American history.

When I was in high school, I used to check the Nielsen ratings every week to see how my favorite shows were doing. I remember at one point, I complained about how The Flash had come in something like 80th that week. (And no wonder, since CBS hadn’t a frickin’ clue how to promote it, but that’s an entirely different story.) When my mother asked me why I should care what other people thought as long as I liked it, I (for once) had a good answer for her: if no one else likes it, they won’t make more. Sure enough, the show was canceled after one season. Once I had figured out that equation, “no audience = no money = no more good stuff,” I never begrudged any artist for hitting the big time, because unless the artist was a total sell-out at heart, it could only mean I’d get to see or read or hear more stuff that I liked.

It sure couldn’t have hurt for dada, the trio whose 1992 album Puzzle is on my Top 5 Albums list. The band originally signed with IRS Records, the label that signed The Police, R.E.M., Concrete Blonde and a slew of other groups but somehow failed to avoid going bankrupt shortly after dada released its third album, El Subliminoso. The group then moved to MCA Records and released dada in 1998, before Universal bought MCA and Joie Calio, Michael Gurley and Phil Leavitt found themselves to be free agents once again. At that point, the three members declared a hiatus and moved on to pursue side and solo projects, swearing all the while they would get back together when they were ready.

Now, maybe they would still have needed a break if “Information Undertow” had been all over the radio in ’98. After all, Calio says, “We’re on hiatus because I needed a break from dada . . . this is a result of my needs as an artist, not a result of the biz.” But when members of a band participate in a chat in which their fans ask if they can play in their town and the band members respond that they would be willing if someone would sponsor the date, as dada did in 1999, you have to think that the grind of trying to succeed in the modern music biz has sapped at least some of their energy. And even if a break was inevitable, Calio does say that “the biz was certainly a part of my reasoning to take a break when I did. If we were riding the crest of our success I would have waited until a more opportune time.”

Despite the hiatus, there are a number of fans trying to harness the power on the Net to keep the band’s name circulating. Whether or not they’re successful, they are certainly not unappreciated. “One of the greatest assets the band dada has is its fans,” says Calio. “They are the best. They are a breed apart. They are real music lovers and they have always been there for us. What they do on their own doesn’t have anything to do with me really. they do it because they have a connection with the music and with themselves and I love all their enthusiasm. I don’t know how much effect their efforts have on my career but it has an effect on my personal being. They make me feel like I must be doing something right.” Read the remainder of this entry »

Lots of times, political cartoons just manage to get me all peeved and make me throw the paper down on the table and want to just say “screw it all” and watch Friends just to avoid being a part of the political process.

See, I hate political junkies. I hate TV pundits, I hate most political columnists, I hate political reporters who think that they’re actually writing for an audience that includes more than just a bunch of other political reporters.

That’s why Scott Bateman is so freakin’ cool.

Bateman is my political cartoonist, and your political cartoonist, and he’s part of this really cool vanguard of young political commentators that focus on how our elected leaders actually affect us, as opposed to making symbolic graphical platitudes about school violence or campaign finance reform. In a Bateman cartoon, you’ll never see a big whale labeled “foreign policy” with whoever happens to be president at the time dressed as Ahab, running after it with a harpoon labeled “tax cut,” or a cherry tree labeled “education initiative” and some senator dressed as George Washington holding an ax labeled “tort reform bill,” or something equally cryptic and completely unfunny. Reading Scott Bateman’s work, it looks like he realized a long time ago that guys like Berke Breathed and Garry Trudeau and Bill Watterson had it right: Tell a good story in pictures, and you’ll make a great point, and people will laugh. It’s that easy.

More recently, Bateman has been creating and posting his very own Web animation, which often deals with more everyday pop-culture situations, like his “Coffee Achievers” strip does. But you know what? I suck at describing this. Go to his website to find out how cool he is.

Bateman was also cool enough to answer some questions for notnews. Here they are: Read the remainder of this entry »

The diversity of musical forms offered by the native peoples of the world is nothing short of impressive: From the Toltecs of Central and South America, who lull us with their haunting flute melodies, to the pounding drums and rhythmic chants of the Amerindians, to the water drums played by the Baka people of Cameroon, to the Australian Aborigines, who make instruments by blowing termite poop out of tree limbs.

Seriously. One of the most beautiful, haunting sounds carried along frequencies accessible to human ears comes from an instrument which, in its truest form, is created by hungry insects.

I’m talking, of course, about the didgeridoo, also called the didjeridu and, for some reason, the yadiki. Raw, earthy and practically subsonic, the didgeridoo figures centrally in Aboriginal music, and is a strong image in the culture of the Island Continent. Read the remainder of this entry »