The Staple Singers -- Slow TrainThe Staple Singers -- Slow Train
Gospel/soul/R&B today from The Staple Singers--a violin, a guitar, a cello, a quartet, sedate drumming--a lullaby for troubled souls.
[Soul Folk in Action]
Wally Wood's 22 Panels That Always Work, and its history.
Assault by racoon.
Are you being astroturfed? The ever-impressive Teresa Nielsen Hayden has a roundup of posts about it.
The communicative power of silence. With my recent silence I wasn't trying to communicate anything, but if I had been, it would have been "I'm out of town because of a family emergency."
On the trip, my thoughts kept circling back to "Bartleby the Scrivener"--nearly every day I was reminded of mankind's fundamental freedom, even to do pointless or harmful things. I'm tempted to relate that to the myth of the omnipresent enemy, and the reality of the enemies that the U.S. does have, but that's only because I'm a dirty hippie who thinks that freedom is good, subjugation and exploitation are bad, and that rage (even insane self-destructive rage) is a common result of the latter.
Zero 7 -- This WorldZero 7 -- This World
As a child she saw her uncle kill her father: argument, handgun, collapse. After that her life was marked by bouts of rage, depression, and spontaneous causeless joy snatched away by the slightest morbid thought: cut grass bleeding water in the hot sun, a leaf seesawing to the ground, apple seeds rotting unplanted.
[Simple Things @ amazon.com]
A Girl Like Me, an impressive and affecting short documentary about skin color, expectations, identity, and self-perception.
Explaining things through simple diagrams on index cards. (via metafilter)
A police report about a missing car and a car that seems subtly different. I did this once, with what I'd thought was the company van. It had several bins of computer parts inside, providing a clue that something was not right.
Mahnamanah (via boingboing)
IODA || Yoda eta piThree tracks today from IODA/promonet, a new service to promote independent musicians, allowing use of certain mp3s on mp3blogs and in podcasts. I poked around a bit, found some things I liked, look forward to returning in a few weeks to see how the selection has expanded....
The Big Three Trio -- Till The Day I Die (MP3, 192kbps)
This is an early R&B group put together by Willie Dixon. I like the song for the background vocals, the alternating leads, and the anachronistic melody. The piano doesn't hurt either--it's very simple, because sometimes simple is perfect and complicated is not.
[The Best Of Delta Records @ eMusic]
Spot Barnett & Friends -- Fence Walk
Latin soul/funk that tiptoed out of the 1960s all the way to 2006. You'd think that after a walk that long it must be tired, but no. It wants to stay up all night and plan heists. It has the suit, it has the fedora, it has the unfiltered cigarettes and strike-anywhere matches.
[Soul Diggin' @ eMusic.com]
Innerstance.Beatbox -- Helium Disco
Turntables, thick distorted bass, RJD2's soundbanks, a modem connecting, and a whimsical arrangement with looped lyrics encouraging you to dance. What can I say? The song bakes a pineapple-carrot cake and gives it a cream cheese frosting. Who can argue with that? Why would they want to?
[Your Eyes Are Like UFOs My Darling @ iTunes]
Teenager in Love
Bob Marley and the Wailers -- Teenager in Love
This is not the typical Wailers sound here--it was recorded in 1964, well before their most famous work--but it's got that same sense of affable melody and uncluttered composition. The song is a cover of a Dion and the Belmonts tune, but I think there's a real economy and grace to it that saves it from being merely a pre-fame Wailers curiosity.
In any case, I keep listening to it, though I wonder if the lyrics might not be a bit cheesy (answer: the doubt is probably answer enough).
[Simmer Down at Studio One, Vol. 1 ]
Post vs. truck. Amazing, even if it is a commercial.
David "Elsewhere" Bernal poppin' and lockin' (the second dancer) and poppin' and lockin' some more.
"Marvelous old man," a heavily artefacted but funny video from Japanese TV, with Cyril Takayama performing illusions on an unsuspecting audience.
Also good: Downtown no gaki no tsukai ya arahende, a Japanese show about contestants having to stay silent (often in a library) while facing pranksters and/or odd punishments. This one with Ernesto Hoost is hilarious; this one without the subtitles is also good. (links via metafilter.com) And I'm having the nagging feeling that I've posted these two before, but I can't find any evidence of it. Apologies, if so.
Musical Family TreeChevy Downs -- Jesus, Heal My Hangover
Far be it from me to say someone was doing miracles by halves, but it's written that Jesus turned water into wine yet there's no record of him healing anyone's hangover. Chevy Downs wants to set that straight. They want to set that straight with a bluegrass stomp, because Jesus is a sucker for catchy music, especially if it makes him tap his foot in a steady two-four beat underlying some fancy fretwork.
[Chevy Downs' site]
Tremendous Fucking -- Every Fucking Time I Believed In You
This song sounded somehow familiar when I first heard it, so of course I had to grep the hard drive to see if it had been posted as part of John's "Fuck" mix (starting here and going through the next four posts). Apparently not. The song is a cross between The Pixies and being thumped by the Hulk. And there's someone else it reminds me of, but I can't place it.
Both of these tracks are releases from Musical Family Tree, which focuses on indie music in Indiana. Their CD release Delicious Berries is ace, but neither of these tracks are on it. (Highlights on the disc include Heidi Gluck's "Wake Up,"Brando's "Your Nelson Now," and Emperor Penguin's "Overboogie," but there's enough diversity on the disc that everyone will probably have different favorites.
Don and Claire and Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla
Schoolhouse Rock! -- Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla
If you're in your 40s or younger and grew up in the U.S. you're probably familiar with Schoolhouse Rock. A series of educational musical cartoon shorts, three minutes apiece, the episodes aired between Saturday morning cartoons from 1973 through to the mid-1980s. The shorts took on a number of subjects, falling into broad areas like math, English, science, civics and history; but they were not dryly "educational"; instead, they were infectious entertaining mnemonics apt to get you singing along, even about multiplication tables or interjections.
In this regard, the shorts were ahead of their time, integrating perfectly with Howard Gardner's theory of Multiple Intelligences, which holds that there aren't simply two kinds of intelligence (linguistic/verbal and logical/mathematical) but at least eight, including visual/spatial, bodily/kinesthetic, musical, naturalist, intrapersonal, and interpersonal. I've never met anyone who'd seen the shorts as a youngster and didn't like them; most people, even if they hadn't thought of the series in decades, could at least respond to "Conjunction Junction" with "What's your function?"
One of my favorites in the series is "Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla," which is a cheerfully over-the-top explanation of the usefulness of pronouns, but if I had to pick a second it would probably be "The Tale of Mr. Morton." "Mr. Norton" is a story of predicates and loneliness which toys with melancholy and then resolves itself quite nicely with both humor and a bit of forward-thinking action. In terms of Gardner's theory, this episode is probably the most complete--it touches on all of them, really--but it's not as fun as "Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla" or "Electricity, Electricity."
The program had a lot of good tracks, though, in addition to the ones mentioned already: "Three Is a Magic Number" is a tuneful work sampled by De La Soul; "Ready or Not, Here I Come" is about counting and multiplying by fives, with the trademark Schoolhouse Rock humor ("Look at that boy with seventeen fingers sticking up. How do you do that, kid?"); "Little Twelvetoes" is a sci-fi track about what it would be like if man had twelve fingers and toes (he'd count by the base-twelve system); "Sufferin' Till Suffrage" is a soulful song about Susan B. Anthony and other suffragettes; "Them Not-So-Dry Bones" explains bones and the need for calcium; and "A Victim of Gravity" is a comedic doo-wop science lesson.
The series is mostly very sensible, but a couple of the episodes made in the 1990s show the ad-men roots, with a blatant emphasis on consumption not apparent in the earlier ones. Which is not to say that the others are completely without problems; "Elbow Room" in particular indulges in the great national lie of Manifest Destiny, apparently agreeing that it was "our" destiny to expand across the country and implying, by extension, both that "we" are not black or Native American, and, further, that the black and Native American destiny was to be subjugated. It's ugly, vicious stuff packed in a saccharine melody, completely out of step with most of the series.
Also troubling is that suffrage got mention in the original series but slavery and civil rights both did not. In a series that spent three songs on the fight for independence, one on The Preamble, and another on the three branches of government, it's a bit jarring to jump ahead from that to Women's Suffrage. The series debuted in 1973, so it's possible that the producers or the network considered slavery and civil rights still (!) too contentious, especially for the Southeastern market, where much of the public has no compunctions about showing its racism. The series released new episodes in the 1990s, including ones dealing with computers and "The Tale of Mr. Morton," mentioned above. You'd think that would give the authors a chance to redress their error, but they didn't; I think the absence points towards one of those "polite fictions" the powerful like to indulge in to avoid dealing with uncomfortable discussions.
If self-perception and willful self-delusion are subtext in Schoolhouse Rock, they serve as the text itself in the experimental film Panorama Ephemera. The film starts with Don and Claire, a young man and woman sitting at a desk, being asked if they know what the signal was that will cause them to fall into a deep sleep again. Neither of them can remember it. The voice offscreen says that perhaps they can find the signal.
The film cuts to a clip asking if we think it's strange that the land might develop a fondness for its people; and both the film's means and its main theme are soon apparent. Edited together from what Rick Prelinger calls "ephemeral films," Panorama Ephemera incorporates social guidance films, industrial films, home movies, and other disparate sources into a feature-length examination of how the U.S. portrays itself.
The clips are often grouped thematically and, in a sense, the film is a glorification of B-roll--these kinds of clips are often used to depict some point being made in documentaries--but in another sense the film is a glorification of the invisible, a cousin to Joseph Cornell's Rose Hobart, which Girish wrote about as decontextualizing reaction shots to foreground them in the viewer's attention.
In Panorama Ephemera the connections between the clips are sometimes blatant and sometimes not--footage of a scientific experiment using mice follows footage of toy cars on a toy highway, weaving past each other. In the experiment, mice must push a button for rewards; one of the mice ends up doing all the work and the other two become social parasites. A title card in the original footage informs us "A 'class society' has emerged." It's tempting to relate this experiment to the previous shot of cars and to dismiss the traffic as part a "rat race"; it's equally tempting to relate the experiment to later footage of police beating down union members on strike.
Many of the connections, though, are less immediately obvious. Halfway through the film, Don and Claire witness the signal again: a book closes. They both fall into hypnosis. The offscreen voice continues asking them questions. In the clips that follow, a principal arrives at school to serve as poll-place volunteer; settlers travel west; a worker loads corncribs with corn; a couple drives through the country to picnic, the woman working herself up to announce that she's pregnant, the man steadfastly not understanding her allusions.
There is so much to consider, so much of it open to interpretation and so much of it potentially related to half a dozen other clips both before and after, that interpretation is something of a challenge. It's clear, though, that the film deals with some overarching themes, conveyed directly through visuals and through diegetic sound: dependence on oil, mechanization, alienation, anxiety about child safety, consumption as an entertainment or distraction.
What isn't clear, even as Don and Claire come out of their long hypnosis, is whether we the audience are waking up as well. A woman sitting in a circle of friends states that sometimes the land loves its people and that sometimes people must be hurt to force them to learn. In the next clip a cat sitting on a windowsill gets up and goes to clean another cat's head. The footage could point towards selfless socialization, an answer to the alienation presented earlier; or it could be an echo of the class societies that the mice established and the police enforced. It's possible the film, like The Day the Earth Stood Still, was meant to end with a lingering question rather than an easy statement.
Sing along with "Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla."
[Schoolhouse Rock! @ amazon.com]
[Panorama Ephemera @ archive.org]