A preface: this quarter, I'm taking English 313, Theory and Criticism. Not only is the class sufficiently oblique and vague for the nature of its title, there are some interesting participants.
Today, we were discussing Plato's Ion and, more relevantly, Arthur C. Danto's Dangerous Art, published in Demetrio Paparoni's volume Eretica: The Transcendent and the Profane in Contemporary Art (173-201).
Danto's essay, or at least what I was able to grok from it, had to do with art, censorship, politics, and how they're all tied up together. What I found most interesting was his assertion of a rather curious conundrum: whether or not censorship is in place, art is assaulted, and if the state of censorship changes, art is assaulted again.
His best example on the side of change was a passage about Rock Music in the Soviet Union in light of Glasnost. Rock, he tells us, was dangerous and underground due to censorship and was therefore powerful. When Glasnost was put into place, that necessity, therefore the danger, and therefore the power of Rock n' Roll evaporated. "To legitimize rock is therefore to rob it of its form and hence its meaning:" he writes, "an officially condoned rock is precisely rock that the state has conquered" (176). So art under censorship is powerful and the transition to transparency destroyed that meaning, that function. The same, I am sure, could be argued for a change in the opposite direction.
Likewise, his example of art under censorship was in context of the Soviet Union, but before glasnost. Focusing on Literature, his main argument was that, since everything was considered a potential threat, both author and audience had to examine what wasn't said, rather than what was said: that the skill of reading between the lines, or "deep reading," as Danto terms it, was the only way to get a message across.
He then goes on to analyze what I will term, in reference to him, 'free' art. His assertion - which he drives home over and over again - is that to put art on a pedestal is actually to put it in a prison: that in a country where expression is free, the label "art" derives the work of all its danger, significance, function and power. The idea is that no matter how offensive or controversial a piece or its content is, it can immediately be waved away with the phrase, "Oh, it's art." He credits this to Plato himself, who originated the idea that anything material at all is only a copy of an idea, therefore imperfect, therefore not real. And since art is a copy of life and therefore a copy of a copy, it is doubly un-real. And naturally, anything unreal can't do real damage. So what is its significance? For Danto, the state of 'free' art means art which is not free at all: art which has been stripped of its meaning entirely.
In light of all this, the class was discussing what could have contributed to this phenomenon of powerless art. Guy#1 speculated that the availability of materials through the internet could have contributed, especially where music is involved. He brought up how anything can be cut, sampled, mixed, and posted without need of a studio, rights, regulations, any of it. Our professor reacted by asking if we thought this process had taken the political nature out of music. Guy#2 jumped on that question, talking up and down about how music wasn't worth it any more, that it had been drained of meaning by the internet, that it no longer had a message.
If my brain was't full of snot due to my Bronchitis I just might have sworn.
Item one: How do you possibly think that free access and distribution of music could have the capacity to hinder meaning? Distribution has nothing to do with content at all. Some of the best music in my library (The Dimes, to name one) is readily available on the internet and that doesn't affect their content in the slightest. Hell, most of their early music was written and recorded separately through use of digital microphones on their personal computers and they sound fantastic, both on CD and in real life. Musicians out there have plenty to say, regardless of whether they're as popular as can be or in your back yard (Decemberists, Abney Park, Lady GaGa, Jessie J, Green Day, Airborne Toxic Event, Rebecca Drysdale, just to name a few.) And guess what? That long list can all be got through the internet.
Item two: Now that we've established that music can still have meaning, what kind of logic do you have to use to think the internet is detrimental to that meaning? There is a lovely interview - that's right, available right here on YouTube - by Neil Gaiman discussing the benefit of advertising through the internet. While it's a little off topic, the point is the same. Your work reaches more people in less time through use of the internet. Over the internet, any message aimed at any audience is bound to reach hundreds if not thousands more people than would ever encounter it if it weren't on the web. Hell, we can jack that number up to millions provided the item goes viral. If that isn't sufficient evidence, the Oregonian ran an article last year about an author who, after being repeatedly rejected by publishing companies, decided to cut out the middleman and self-publish for, you guessed it, the e-book market. Her readership (as well as her bank account) jumped up immediately. Through clever web marketing, she's now significantly contributing to her family's expenses with her art.
Item three: Nothing exists in a vacuum. Early on in Dangerous Art, Danto proposes as a thesis that "our art and our political reality are made for one another; that each, one might say, is the same set of symbolic forms differently embodied" (175-6). In that light, how could it be possible that music isn't political? Just because we don't have an heir to Zack de la Roca's approach of up close and personal confrontation of what I might even dare to call "the system" doesn't mean that music inherently has no political meaning.
Item four: Perhaps most importantly, art as a whole, including music, is what you as an audience make of it. This is reached by what I now regard as fact: that artist's intent in inherently less important than audience interpretation. There is such a thing as interpretation without grounds, however, once someone makes something and puts it into the world, they are no longer there to mollycoddle it or justify it. It's on its own, becomes its own entity. If you as a viewer or listener assume that music is dead and has no meaning, you'll be proven right every time by grace of the stale interpretations of your perfectly closed mind. This is a two-way street, of course, and you can find sunshine and rainbows in pretty much anything if you look hard enough.
The point is, please be discerning, and perhaps give music as a whole another listen.
Showing posts with label youtube. Show all posts
Showing posts with label youtube. Show all posts
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
The Decemberists
Live and in concert at McMenamins Edgefield in Troutdale, Oregon!
Oh my goodness gracious sakes alive.
(If the above did not convey shock and awe, please insert it here.)
Not to knock them. Not at all. But they were so much better in concert than I ever could have dreamed they would be. Singer and frontman Colin Meloy was spot-on, the whole band sounded tight, Peter Buck appeared to play for a song (who, they told us, was actually a sprite that lives in the Troutdale woods, appearing to perform with musicians when they play music of an appropriate bent: "that's how REM found him," Colin said), and Jenny Conlee played the whole show, despite her ongoing battle with breast cancer. The sound quality: excellent. The set: brilliant, pulled from every album, varied, and wonderful. The energy: perfect.
It was the kind of show that induces a blissed-out buzz, a buzz that only leaves you when you're utterly exhausted and then leaves you exhausted for the next whole day.
There were a few perks in particular to this show. One of them was one of the most powerful messages I have ever seen conveyed on a stage. In talking about how grateful they were that Jenny could be there to perform with them, not only did Colin lead the entire crowd in a little healing magic/positive thought - we all put our hands in the air, said "ooooOOOO, aaaAAAAA, KAZAM!" and she looked down at herself shocked as though we'd cured her; "that'll do it, right?" said Colin - but he went on to explain their merch campaign. They've designed shirts and buttons (not available online) that read "Team Jenny" printed along the side of an accordion: all the proceeds go to Susan G. Komen for the Cure. As though that wasn't poignant enough, Colin went on: "We're going to play a song for Jenny, now. It's called This is Why We Fight." I had to work hard not to burst into tears. For those of you who aren't complete Decemberists fanatics, the lyrics to This is Why We Fight's chorus go: "This is why/why we fight/why we lie awake,/ this is why/why we fight:/so when we die/we will die/with our arms unbound!/This is why/this is why we fight/come hell." It also has an incredibly powerful music video to go with it.
My personal favorite perk of the evening, however, was that they fearlessly played their longest tracks: as part of encore number one (of three!) they played most, if not all, of The Tain, an eighteen-minute track! And, to top it off, as their second to last song of the night, they played my personal and all-time favorite, The Mariner's Revenge Song. Yes, folks. I danced the interpretive whale dance to the best of my ability and screamed like a dying sailor being eaten by a whale. In public. In my defense the latter part was by instruction. The whole crowd screamed and oh, what a sound we made. The video of the entire song (NOT MY DANCE, thank heaven), is pending on the YouTube. Their last song of the night, one of their very finest, was June Hymn, and though the drunk in front of us kept screaming at the most inopportune times during it, it was a beautiful performance nonetheless.
It also turns out that not only are The Decemberists basically King and court of Portlandia, they are some of the most creative people I have ever had the fortune to stumble across. Check out their website, their collaboration with The Impossible Project, The Impossible Project's homepage, and the site for Colin and his wife, Carson Ellis', novel Wildwood for details.
The (excellent) Openers:
Okkervil River
Point Juncture, WA
Oh my goodness gracious sakes alive.
(If the above did not convey shock and awe, please insert it here.)
Not to knock them. Not at all. But they were so much better in concert than I ever could have dreamed they would be. Singer and frontman Colin Meloy was spot-on, the whole band sounded tight, Peter Buck appeared to play for a song (who, they told us, was actually a sprite that lives in the Troutdale woods, appearing to perform with musicians when they play music of an appropriate bent: "that's how REM found him," Colin said), and Jenny Conlee played the whole show, despite her ongoing battle with breast cancer. The sound quality: excellent. The set: brilliant, pulled from every album, varied, and wonderful. The energy: perfect.
It was the kind of show that induces a blissed-out buzz, a buzz that only leaves you when you're utterly exhausted and then leaves you exhausted for the next whole day.
There were a few perks in particular to this show. One of them was one of the most powerful messages I have ever seen conveyed on a stage. In talking about how grateful they were that Jenny could be there to perform with them, not only did Colin lead the entire crowd in a little healing magic/positive thought - we all put our hands in the air, said "ooooOOOO, aaaAAAAA, KAZAM!" and she looked down at herself shocked as though we'd cured her; "that'll do it, right?" said Colin - but he went on to explain their merch campaign. They've designed shirts and buttons (not available online) that read "Team Jenny" printed along the side of an accordion: all the proceeds go to Susan G. Komen for the Cure. As though that wasn't poignant enough, Colin went on: "We're going to play a song for Jenny, now. It's called This is Why We Fight." I had to work hard not to burst into tears. For those of you who aren't complete Decemberists fanatics, the lyrics to This is Why We Fight's chorus go: "This is why/why we fight/why we lie awake,/ this is why/why we fight:/so when we die/we will die/with our arms unbound!/This is why/this is why we fight/come hell." It also has an incredibly powerful music video to go with it.
My personal favorite perk of the evening, however, was that they fearlessly played their longest tracks: as part of encore number one (of three!) they played most, if not all, of The Tain, an eighteen-minute track! And, to top it off, as their second to last song of the night, they played my personal and all-time favorite, The Mariner's Revenge Song. Yes, folks. I danced the interpretive whale dance to the best of my ability and screamed like a dying sailor being eaten by a whale. In public. In my defense the latter part was by instruction. The whole crowd screamed and oh, what a sound we made. The video of the entire song (NOT MY DANCE, thank heaven), is pending on the YouTube. Their last song of the night, one of their very finest, was June Hymn, and though the drunk in front of us kept screaming at the most inopportune times during it, it was a beautiful performance nonetheless.
It also turns out that not only are The Decemberists basically King and court of Portlandia, they are some of the most creative people I have ever had the fortune to stumble across. Check out their website, their collaboration with The Impossible Project, The Impossible Project's homepage, and the site for Colin and his wife, Carson Ellis', novel Wildwood for details.
The (excellent) Openers:
Okkervil River
Point Juncture, WA
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Adele: Rolling in the Deep
I couldn't help but feature the music video for Rolling in the Deep.
The visuals confused me the first time I saw it. I'm not confused any more.
To go with a song of heartbreak and the desire for revenge, we are given a stunning compilation of images, visual translations of the kind of sorrow which can only be felt in abstraction and are therefore abstract. And those abstractions are all beautiful in their raw intensity.
There is so much I could analyze and infer from this video - from the separation of her and the drummer, the motions of her hands - but I'll let you do that on your own today.
The visuals confused me the first time I saw it. I'm not confused any more.
To go with a song of heartbreak and the desire for revenge, we are given a stunning compilation of images, visual translations of the kind of sorrow which can only be felt in abstraction and are therefore abstract. And those abstractions are all beautiful in their raw intensity.
There is so much I could analyze and infer from this video - from the separation of her and the drummer, the motions of her hands - but I'll let you do that on your own today.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Game
Yes. Dr. Horrible has yet another wonderful incarnation: Doctor Octoroc's 8-Bit Game!
While it isn't an actual game, the video makes any watcher with a background in handheld, pre-DS gaming go back to their pokemon days. Not going to lie. I totally strolled down memory lane with this. The musical adaption is skillfully done and simply begs to be sung along with. Credit for this goes to Doctor Octoroc, who created these videos as a tribute, and who has also brought us 8-Bit Jesus (an album of Christmas carols done entirely in 8-bit sound).
What I love the most about this project are the care and detail in which the videos are handled. The cinema scenes are wonderfully converted from actual screenshots of the blog, and the sprites are brilliantly handled. I think my personal favorites are Bad Horse's cowboy trio, who appear at one point by dropping through the ceiling. What's better is that, after their number, they proceed to vanish by flying back up through the ceiling.
My next favorite part of this production is that Doctor Octoroc supplements the original sing-along blog both with gameplay - like the need to collect parts to build Dr. Horrible's various weapons - as well a hypothetical minigame and a couple of extra scenes which are implied in the blog but never directly seen.
To conclude, I only wish this was a real game. I would be all over it.
The home of Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Game may be found here, where you can download the 8-bit version of the soundtrack and contribute to his project if you see fit. :)
Doctor Octoroc's Blog
Also, Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Game is available on the YouTubes!
Act I
Act II Part I, and Act II Part II
Act III Part I, and Act III Part II
While it isn't an actual game, the video makes any watcher with a background in handheld, pre-DS gaming go back to their pokemon days. Not going to lie. I totally strolled down memory lane with this. The musical adaption is skillfully done and simply begs to be sung along with. Credit for this goes to Doctor Octoroc, who created these videos as a tribute, and who has also brought us 8-Bit Jesus (an album of Christmas carols done entirely in 8-bit sound).
What I love the most about this project are the care and detail in which the videos are handled. The cinema scenes are wonderfully converted from actual screenshots of the blog, and the sprites are brilliantly handled. I think my personal favorites are Bad Horse's cowboy trio, who appear at one point by dropping through the ceiling. What's better is that, after their number, they proceed to vanish by flying back up through the ceiling.
My next favorite part of this production is that Doctor Octoroc supplements the original sing-along blog both with gameplay - like the need to collect parts to build Dr. Horrible's various weapons - as well a hypothetical minigame and a couple of extra scenes which are implied in the blog but never directly seen.
To conclude, I only wish this was a real game. I would be all over it.
The home of Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Game may be found here, where you can download the 8-bit version of the soundtrack and contribute to his project if you see fit. :)
Doctor Octoroc's Blog
Also, Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Game is available on the YouTubes!
Act I
Act II Part I, and Act II Part II
Act III Part I, and Act III Part II
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
A Gentlemen's Duel
This, my friends, is one of the most fabulously funny animated shorts I have ever seen. Produced by Blur Studio and written and directed by Sean McNally and Francisco Ruiz Velasco, A Gentlemen's Duel is amusing in the way that only animated shorts can be. From over-exaggerated violence to the kind of stereotype that one can just barely get away with (I sincerely apologize to both the English and the French, respectively), it's at least a romp of a good time.
Yet again, I marvel at the fact that it took me so long to come across this piece (credit goes to Ryan). It was released in 2006, and appeared on the scene in 2008 when it paid a visit to the RiverRun International Film Festival. Now it graces viewers with its presence via the youtubes.
Be warned: this duel is not as it seems. But in the interest of not spoiling anything, I shall say no more.
Yet again, I marvel at the fact that it took me so long to come across this piece (credit goes to Ryan). It was released in 2006, and appeared on the scene in 2008 when it paid a visit to the RiverRun International Film Festival. Now it graces viewers with its presence via the youtubes.
Be warned: this duel is not as it seems. But in the interest of not spoiling anything, I shall say no more.
Monday, March 15, 2010
The Mysterious Geographic Explorations of Jasper Morello
For a rollicking good romp in Steampunk lands comes the Australian short, The Mysterious Geographic Explorations of Jasper Morello!
I am not entirely sure how even to begin with this piece. It's beautifully done. Simple, but elegant. It recalls a combination of Tim Burton's aesthetic for The Nightmare Before Christmas or Corpse Bride and paper cutouts. Needless to say, I'm a huge fan.
Once again, I am shocked to find that this has existed for quite some time and it didn't trickle down the grapevine to find me until now. Released in 2005 and directed by Anthony Lucas, it has won the AFI award twice and was nominated for an academy award in 2006. Kudos to my friend here in college-land Taylor for showing it to me.
Fortunately it appears to be out on DVD, available through Madman. Unfortunately it also appears to only be available to order in Australia, but who knows - perhaps it will make its way overseas before long. However, to make up for this minor setback, it appears that Jasper will not be confined to simply one voyage, ladies and gentlemen! According to The Gothia Gazette (Jasper's official website), he will embark on not one, but four voyages! I eagerly await their arrival.
Once again, thank you Taylor for the link!
For the rest of you, I hope you enjoy.
Pay Jasper a visit on the Youtubes!
I am not entirely sure how even to begin with this piece. It's beautifully done. Simple, but elegant. It recalls a combination of Tim Burton's aesthetic for The Nightmare Before Christmas or Corpse Bride and paper cutouts. Needless to say, I'm a huge fan.
Once again, I am shocked to find that this has existed for quite some time and it didn't trickle down the grapevine to find me until now. Released in 2005 and directed by Anthony Lucas, it has won the AFI award twice and was nominated for an academy award in 2006. Kudos to my friend here in college-land Taylor for showing it to me.
Fortunately it appears to be out on DVD, available through Madman. Unfortunately it also appears to only be available to order in Australia, but who knows - perhaps it will make its way overseas before long. However, to make up for this minor setback, it appears that Jasper will not be confined to simply one voyage, ladies and gentlemen! According to The Gothia Gazette (Jasper's official website), he will embark on not one, but four voyages! I eagerly await their arrival.
Once again, thank you Taylor for the link!
For the rest of you, I hope you enjoy.
Pay Jasper a visit on the Youtubes!
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