Return of Old Fogey, or a Letter to Jon Keller

It seems Old Fogeyism and the generational issues associated with it are around us everywhere these days.  The 50^th anniversary of the Beatles’ coming to America, the start of the so-called British Invasion, and in particular their appearance on the Ed Sullivan show has kept them in the spotlight.  One particularly egregious example that was brought to my attention comes from Jon Keller, a popular political commentator on the Boston-area news station WBZ-AM and the CBS Boston website.  Keller’s latest editorial, titled “Beatles Show Public Craving For Songs That Aren’t Moronic,” was a brief piece that barely scratched the surface of these issues.  Its main point was a comparison of the timeless Beatles (epitomized by “She Loves You”) as “real songwriters” to “trashmen” and “trashwomen” like Miley Cyrus.  Here is my response:

Not Talkin' 'Bout My Generation

Burn down the disco, hang the blessed DJ
Because the music that they constantly play
It says nothing to me about my life

-- The Smiths, "Panic" (1986)

Watching the performances at the Grammys this year was a bit puzzling.  Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr, Chicago, Carole King, Stevie Wonder, Nile Rodgers, Willie Nelson, Kris Kristofferson, Merle Haggard, in addition to the sight of duos like Smokey Robinson and Steven Tyler presenting awards . . . it was as if popular music had stood still for some 40 years.  (Thank goodness Metallica was there to keep things current.)  More than an odd sight, their presence raised the question: What was the purpose of trotting out so many old-timers of popular music?  Was it to confer legitimacy on contemporary music?  Or was it something else?  Who was the intended audience?  For instance, you would have to be in your late twenties (at least) to remember Paul McCartney’s last US Top 40 single (“My Brave Face”, 1989), and in your mid-thirties to remember his last number one (“Say Say Say”, with Michael Jackson, 1983); and even older to remember any hit by Ringo Starr.  Of course, the Beatles have managed to remain well-known during the intervening time, as shown by the impressive sales of the Anthology series, Live at the BBC, 1, Love, in addition to their back catalog.  But they have not maintained a presence on Top 40 radio in some time: justifying BBC Radio 1’s refusal to play “Real Love” in 1996, a spokesman said, “It's not what our listeners want to hear . . . We are a contemporary music station.”

Archaeology and the Arab Spring

An article in the Guardian featuring before and after pictures of Syrian monuments damaged by years of conflict has been making the rounds: on Sunday on Facebook, yesterday on the Agade mailing list (for scholars of the ancient Near Eastern and classical worlds).  It is simply the latest of a series of such articles published over the last couple of years; in fact, some of the pictures are recycled from a similar, much-circulated article from November 2013 (in PolicyMic, by Rachel Davidson).  These articles bring up a couple of significant issues.  One is the danger of sensationalism, present especially in the Davidson article.  From the title itself we are presented with exaggeration: “5 Historical Monuments Have Been Destroyed Forever During Syria’s Civil War”.  Upon reading the article, we discover that none of the monuments has been “destroyed”: while all have been damaged, some severely, they are all still standing (or, at least were at the time of writing) and could in theory be restored.  In fact, Davidson herself presents the problem in more sober terms within the text of the article (for instance, “five of the most significant sites and buildings that have been damaged or destroyed”).  We are also presented with slanted editorializing: “given Bashar al-Assad's willingness to ruthlessly slaughter tens of thousands of his own citizens, it's unlikely that he will show more respect for his country's historical monuments.”  In fact, given that the opposition forces have shown themselves to be just as willing to ruthlessly slaughter people, there is no need to lay the blame on one side only.  This is not meant as a defense of Assad, but simply as a statement of fact.  Even Davidson states elsewhere in the article that the two sides have been battling each other around some of these monuments.

But the circulation of a series of such articles by archaeologists and other academics leads to a more fundamental question: In all of these discussions of monuments and heritage, where are the people?

Climax and Resolution in Hitchcock’s Films

In a suspense story such as a murder mystery, the storyteller has choices – a limited set of choices, to be sure, but we must always be conscious that there are choices – of how to tell the tale.  She can reveal the murderer and the circumstances of the killing in advance (as for example in the Columbo mysteries); she can reveal these facts as they are discovered by the detective.  Put another way, the narrator – that is to say, the camera (for if the author of the film is the director, the narrator is essentially the camera) – can be essentially omniscient, or present the story from the viewpoint of the characters, usually the protagonist.

Typically, a Hitchcock film uses the latter approach.  Thus we the audience unravel the mystery along with the hero.  A central feature of Hitchcock’s films is usually the discovery of a vital piece of information – the solution of the mystery, or some significant plot twist.  At the same time as the protagonist is working to discover this information, he is also looking to rescue himself from a dire situation.  The climax of the film, then, is in fact made up of two separate but related climaxes: a climax of knowledge, and a climax of drama.  Alternatively, we can label these – if we are not put off by the religious overtones – revelation and salvation.  Again speaking on a general level, a Hitchcock film tends to revolve around the working out of these two interlocking elements.  It is therefore surprising, then – given that Hitchcock is rightly regarded as a master of suspense, and a supremely talented director – that the climax of the film and its resolution are so often a structural flaw in his films: the climax (or climaxes) comes too early, there is a disjunction between the salvation and revelation, the resolution is not weighty enough to be an effective release of the tension built for most of the film.  The audience is (or, at least I am) so often left unsatisfied by the final result.  Why should this be the case?

Writing Old School, part 2

Nothing New Under the Big Black Sun or, Attack of the Midget Submarines "There are people who still believe in the spirit of punk and live that lifestyle, but it's only a re-creation. There was a different social and political climate then, and if you're playing punk music now, you're playing something that somebody else invented. I don't know if that constitutes the same kind of spirit. I'm not being cynical, but I can't think of anything really new in music. I'd hate to be 15 right now." -- Exene Cervenka in Spin '25 Years of Punk'  'Boys, my father will forestall me in everything. There will be nothing great or spectacular for you and me to show the world.' -- attributed to the young Alexander the Great by Plutarch, Life of Alexander

Writing, Old-School

Back in 2003 I wrote a couple of music essays and submitted them to two music webzines: In Love With These Times, In Spite of These Times; and Tangents.  The musical tastes of the sites’ authors, Kieran and Alistair, resonated with me, and I admired their writing styles; I read their work regularly, and was inspired in part by them to attempt to put some of my own thoughts on music into writing.  In fact, my first piece (“66 in 86”) was a direct reaction to Kieran’s views on music before punk, in particular the Beatles; and, despite the fact that he violently disagreed with my premise, he had some wonderful things to say about the essay on his site.

Meanwhile, In Love With These Times, In Spite of These Times lives on in blog form (kisschase.blogspot.com); Tangents is now defunct, but its archived contents can be found at www.tangents.co.uk.

Here is the first of those two essays (second to follow):

'66 in '86 - an appreciation of the Pop legacy  

Can’t Get “Georgia on My Mind” out of My Head

Over the past several weeks I have kept coming back to an episode of The Voice (which I was not watching by choice) in which one of the contestants performed the standard “Georgia on My Mind.”  The arrangement of course slavishly copied the arrangement of Ray Charles’s classic 1960 recording, minus the strings and choir.  What struck me, though, was when I heard Adam Levine – I think – refer to Ray Charles’s recording as the “original” version.  First on my mind was the matter of the appalling ignorance of music history on display here: Ray Charles did not write the song, nor was it written for him.  Instead, by the time he recorded the song it was already 30 years old and had been recorded a large number of times.  The song had in fact been written by Hoagy Carmichael, prominent songwriter and pianist (along with Stuart Gorrell, his non-songwriter friend who collaborated on this one effort). As far as I know, the earliest version of the song was recorded by Hoagy himself.   Certainly, Ray Charles’s recording has become the definitive version – as witnessed by the up-and-comer’s slavish copying.  But original is something else.