it now! - Inflatable Ferret

Vol 3 No. 2 ///// Feb 2011
MARK NAISON
TALKS CIVIL RIGHTS
SOUNDTRACK
ARCADE FIRE'S
GRAMMY VICTORY
WAKE UP CALL
REVIEWS
FOR CAKE,
DECEMBERISTS,
& DESTROYER
80 Minutes
of Underrated Music
by AFRICAN AMERICANS
LETTER
FROM
THE EDITOR
CONTENTS
Vol 3 No. 2 ///// Feb 2011
FEATURE
T H AN K S F O R
picking up (so to speak) the latest
copy of IF, known to some as Volume
III, Issue 3. As promised, this one includes several reviews, including the
fascinating documentary Marwencol
and new albums by Cake, Destroyer,
The Decemberists, and Smith Westerns. Rob DeStefano finds links between Blue Valentine and The Green
Hornet in this month’s Double BoxOffice feature, and Ryan Waring remembers the beloved Pete Postlethwaite. This issue’s Black History
Month sections are an interview with
celebrated African American/History professor Mark Naison and 80 Minutes of Underrated Black Music, in
which I finally pay ferret homage to
my longtime hero. Fellow SLJ lovers,
you will know what I’m talking about.
Thanks for reading, and have a great
February.
james passarelli
02
06
Arcade Fire's Grammy win, a farewell
to Pete Postlethwaite, and double box
office feature
REVIEWS
20
Read reviews for Cake, Destroyer,
The Decemberists, and more
INTERVIEW
14
African American Studies professor
Mark Naison talks civil rights music
PLAYLIST
26
80 Minutes of underrated music
by African Americans
03
OUR STAFF
ISSUE CONTRIBUTORS
Editor-in-Chief
Copy Editing
James Passarelli
Pat Passarelli
Ainsley Thedinger
Layout
Kathryn Freund
Featured Writers
David Amidon
Rob DeStefano
Kathryn Freund
Bryant Kitching
James Passarelli
Pat Passarelli
Quin Slovek
Ryan Waring
Web Design
Greg Ervanian
Rob Schellenberg
Photography
The Arcade Fire
James Passarelli
LA Times
Marwencol.com
Jaimie Trueblood
The Weinstein Company

We gladly welcome
any criticism or
suggestions. If you
have any ideas for
the magazine, or if
you would like to be
a part of it, please
contact us at: info@
inflatableferret.com.
CONTACT US
via Email
via Interweb
GENERAL INQUIRIES
[email protected]
WEBSITE
www.inflatableferret.com
TOM KUTILEK
[email protected]
HANS LARSEN
[email protected]
JAMES PASSARELLI
[email protected]
RYAN WARING
[email protected]
04
Copyright © 2011 Inflatable Ferret
FACEBOOK
Become a fan!
www.facebook.com/inflatableferret
TWITTER
www.twitter.com/inflatablef
Keep your
eyes peeled
for daily news
& updates on the website!
Music, Film, Etc.
No Hot Air.
www.inflatableferret.com
06FEATURE
“ The less
WHEN IN UFA,
GRAMMY
WAKE UP
CALL:
Why Arcade Fire's
Victory Means More
Than Glory
Régine and Win in front of a Partners in Health
(Zanmi Lasante in Haitian) building in Cange, Haiti
(Photo: Arcade Fire Blog)
WORDS: Pat Passarelli
you do as the Ufans do—so you don’t
watch the Grammys. But it was unavoidable to piece together a few of
the winners from my Facebook Newsfeed, where I was pleased to see a lot
of my friends posting about Arcade
Fire’s snagging the award for Best
Album of the Year. I think I can speak
for most music lovers when I say that
mainstream award show committees
are not adept at awarding the most
talented artists, but I can’t complain
with the choice for Best Album this
year (we had it as #4 on our own list).
Twitter has been buzzing with Gagaguzzling sheep unashamedly declaring their ignorance of Arcade Fire,
further evidence that the Grammy actually went to deserving musicians instead of cheap pop-culture phenoms.
The less publicized side of Arcade Fire’s win is that a lot of poor,
sick people stand to benefit from the
band’s growing celebrity and corresponding revenue. For seven years
now, Arcade Fire has donated to and
supported Partners in Health, a nonprofit health care organization now
operating in Haiti, Lesotho, Malawi,
Peru, Russia, Rwanda, the United
States, the Dominican Republic,
Kazakhstan, Mexico, Guatemala,
and Burundi. The band first became
involved after reading Tracy Kidder’s
Mountains Beyond Mountains, the
award-winning book detailing Paul
Farmer’s efforts to establish and develop PIH.
The band’s urge to collaborate
with an organization still concentrating much of its effort on Haiti is
no surprise to those familiar with
its biography. The parents of multiinstrumentalist and singer, Régine
Chassange, escaped from Haiti
while dictator Jean-Claude Duvalier’s wreaked economic and political havoc on the country. “Haiti,” the
popular hit from 2004’s Funeral, features both French and English lyrics which bemoan the loss of future
generations of Haiti due to the vio-
publicized side
of Arcade Fire’s
win is that a lot of
poor, sick people
stand to benefit
from the band’s
growing celebrity
and corresponding
revenue.”
lence of Duvalier’s reign of terror.
The subtitle to “Sprawl II” from The
Suburbs and the title of Kidder’s
book reference the Haitian Creole
proverb Dye mon, gen mon (Beyond
mountains, there are more mountains), paying tribute to the repeated
hardships the small island nation
endures.
The relationship between a great
band such as Arcade Fire and an organization like Partners in Health is
testament to the truth that good music is not produced in isolation from
the rest of the world. Its quality, message, and spirit contain the potential
for action and change. This is nothing new, especially in light of this issue’s theme of how black music has
affected our world. Nonetheless, it is
refreshing to see that in an age when
vapid attempts at artistic endeavor
often get more credit than legitimate
creative works, bands with souls are
still publicly lauded and their concrete efforts to enact social justice
given the means to flourish. IF
Arcade Fire accepting their Grammy Award on February 13, 2011. (Photo: LA Times)
07
feature
IF THE WORLD
Remembering
PETE
POSTLETHWAITE
A Tribute to an
Under-appreciated
Legend
WORDS: Ryan Waring
08
feature
is indeed the solipsistic reality my
ego tells me exists, then I have made
a terrible, terrible mistake. You see,
just shy of year’s end I finally fulfilled
my annual, morbid pre-NewYears resolution of drafting a celebrity death
pool for the upcoming year. I worked
my list as if I were Mel Kiper drafting
his Big Board and twistedly devised
what I could have confidently bet
would comprise the 2012 Oscar “In
Memoriam” montage. In hindsight,
my smug calculations were grounds
enough for a lifetime of shaming. But
I far from expected the kind of poetic
justice I was delivered.
My experience, admittedly, does
not dictate the course of the world.
And this isn’t my punishment. Pardon the following groaner statement,
but this is a tough loss for everybody.
On January 2nd, the world lost quite
possibly the most underrated acting
talent when Pete Postlethwaite lost a
long battle with cancer.
Pete Postlethwaite was more
than his prominent cheekbones,
although, I can’t deny they were an
integral part of his performance.
Unfortunately they contributed to
the false impression that he was
simply a character actor. The man
had the art down. Steven Spielberg
left no ambiguity, labeling him the
“best actor in the world today" after
directing Postlethwaite in The Lost
World: Jurassic Park. Colleague Simon Pegg took to twitter to mourn
the loss of "one of our finest actors,"
and Kevin Spacey, who worked with
Postlethwaite on the set of Usual
Suspects, said quite succinctly “noone was like Pete."
But Pete Postlethwaite’s acting
was more than extraordinary. Many
outside the industry tried to verbalize
the impression Postlethwaite’s performances left on them. Former UK
deputy Prime Minister Lord Prescott
tweeted that the actor's performances in Brassed Off and The Age of Stupid "had a real effect on me and our
government." Gerard Conlon, whose
father Postlethwaite portrayed in
his lone Oscar-nominated role (In
the Name of the Father), once stated,
"I don't think anyone else could have
played my father…There's times I just
look at it and I think, 'Jesus, that was
my dad.' That's how good he was."
All of Postlethwaite’s characters were so potently convincing.
Despite being relatively unknown,
he unquestionably had A-list talent
(thus the niche that perpetuates the
unfair “character actor” stigma). I
always imagine casting directors
burning the midnight oil with script
in hand running their fingers through
their hair uttering, “How the hell can
I get someone good enough to take
such a small, but difficult part?”
Revelation: Pete Postlethwaite’s
an acceptable answer to the famed
Ghostbuster dilemma.
Hence his ubiquity. It’s not just
that his face is so recognizable.
Postlethwaite could also land highprofile gigs because of his ability to
hang with the A-listers. For me, he
was the cherry on top of a number
of impressive casts. Inception with
Leonardo DiCaprio, Joseph GordonLevitt, Ellen Page AND Pete Postlethwaite? The Town with Ben Affleck,
Jeremy Renner, Jon Hamm AND
Pete Postlethwaite? The Constant
Gardener with Ralph Fiennes, Rachel
Weisz AND Pete Postlethwaite?
The Lost World with Jeff Goldblum,
Julianne Moore, Vince Vaughn AND
Pete Postlethwaite? Usual Suspects
with Kevin Spacey, Gabriel Byrne,
Benicio Del Toro AND Pete Postlethwaite? The Shipping News with
Kevin Spacey, Judi Dench, Julianne
Moore, Cate Blanchett AND Pete
Postlethwaite? And remember who
gave James those luminous little
alligator tongues in James and the
Giant Peach? You got it. That’s one
highly sought, prolific character actor. And remember the spoken word
that preceded the album version of
Chumbawumba’s
“Tubthumping”?
That would be a sample from Postlethwaite’s monologue in Brassed Off.
He’s everywhere. And now that you’re
aware of it, expect him to drop in on
your viewing habits from time to time.
The cliché would suggest I
thought Pete Postlethwaite’s acting
could have cured cancer, and obviously that was sadly not the case… if
only because the sloth whom Postlethwaite inspired to cure cancer lost
that vocation somewhere under the
pile of dirty clothes on the floor of his
room (God, I hope I’m not referring
to myself). Pete Postlethwaite had
that elusive “sit down, shut up” charisma, but unlike the majority of its
possessors, he didn’t come across
as vain or an asshole. His genuine
sincerity was fear inducing. Amid the
muck of celebrity boilerplate charity
plugs, Postlethwaite could deliver
his views on climate change with unparalleled frankness. That’s the trait
that best lent itself to his repertoire.
His passionate personality was so
conspicuously evident in his work.
The talent and the man were one in
the same. Both were impressive, inspiring and unique. And both will be
sorely missed. if
09
feature
BOX OFFICE DOUBLE FEATURE
Blue
Valentine
&
The Green
Hornet
Is there any connection?
10
feature
WORDS: Rob DeStefano
PHOTOS: Jaimie Trueblood & Weinstein Company
SO IT BEGINS.
Somebody wants something really badly.
The desire for the prize outweighs earthly logic. He or she is willing to go against
all odds: to battle deadly assassins in
hope of finding her daughter, to win a
girl’s heart by playing Peter Gabriel’s “In
Your Eyes” from a boombox. Some will
walk freely across a rope, suspended between two buildings, and stop to have a
conversation with a seagull.
Welcome to life and/or Screenwriting
101. Like our favorite fictional characters, we are driven by endless MacGuffins. One man’s journey to sate his appetite for love will inevitably be unique,
or at the very least, nuanced from the
next man’s quest. In this ever-expanding
world of film, it is the duty of the screenwriters, actors, and filmmakers to embellish a common determination and transform it into a worthwhile and cinematic
treat. On the weekend of January 14th,
theaters released two movies that were
poles apart; when stripped to the core,
their protagonists all desired the same
thing: human connection.
11
feature
Blue
Valentine
Blue Valentine juxtaposes past and
present moments of a young relationship, recounting the inherent messiness of interdependence. In an early
scene, occurring in the present timeframe, Cindy (Michelle Williams) groggily prepares her daughter Frankie’s
breakfast while her husband Dean
“ Not only
(Ryan Gosling) contributes in less appropriate ways, mimicking an animal
eating raisins from the table. Frankie
only sees the humor in this, but Cindy’s
total unamusement with Dean suggests the harrowing subtext: has the
search for security brought the couple
to frustration and unhappiness? It’s a
scene that functions from
the characters playing
worn roles of “good cop,
bad cop,” but the cast and
direction add a sincere
subtleness, building the
emotional framework for
the retrospection.
In these past sequences, we learn about
the characters’ lack of
connectivity to the world
around
them.
Dean
comes from a broken
household and a neglectful mother. He works as a
mover, lugging boxes and
bulk from old places to
new ones, just as people
do with their personal
“baggage.” He introduces
an elderly veteran to a
retirement home; going
above and beyond, Dean
unpacks the man’s belongings and arranges
the room. He discovers a
photograph of the man’s
late wife. The two share a
moment of reflection, one
looking back on his romance, the other looking
forward with the ambition
of similar fulfillment. Cindy cares for her grandmother, transporting her
back and forth from an
assisted living center to
is the story's
non-linear
structure
critical to the
emotional
payoff, but
it adds an
unexpected
sense of
intrigue.”
12
feature
the family’s home. There is a mutual
appreciation between the two, but Cindy is looking for meaning elsewhere in
her life. Some slightly clunky exposition reveals Cindy’s parents’ tumultuous relationship. She is burdened by
their inability to love and identify with
one another. Dean, meet Cindy. Please
connect and inspire warm feelings
about human nature.
The characters are motivated by
this symbiosis. It’s what drives them
to meet, to wed, and to do other things
throughout the movie. We learn from
the opening that this isn’t going to be
a typical love story.The film starts with
the outcome of the characters’ battle,
the battle being the fight for a meaningful human relationship. Is this spoiling
anything? No. Is the film worth watching? Absolutely. The writer/director
Derek Cianfrance, who freakishly resembles Gosling, makes every aspect
of the film soundly significant and effective. Not only is the story’s non-linear structure critical to the emotional
payoff, it adds an unexpected sense
of intrigue that keeps us alert and inquisitive. While we know where the
relationship is headed throughout the
course of the flashbacks, Cianfrance
supplies rewards expertly intertwined
with the narrative, heightening the
overall story and entertainment. Gosling and Williams furnish raw and unhindered performances in every scene,
giving their characters a layered texture that makes it nearly impossible for
the material not to resonate across the
theater. The combination of film and
digital video, separating the past from
the present, and the use of a handheld
camera invite the viewer to become
part of the couple’s journey. We feel
their joy, their pain, and their confusion. Blue Valentine, well done.
The
Green
Hornet
Shifting genres, every action hero
needs a motivation. As mindless as
most superhero revampings may be,
the protagonist will experience an
inciting incident, putting his or her
values and desires into perspective,
and The Green Hornet is no anomaly.
The film is blunt. Christoph Waltz
is a villain and lives only to inflict fear
among others (specifically a celebrity cameo). Britt Reid (Seth Rogen)
is the story’s hero who must standup
to the villain, but not before he finds a
companion and self-worth.The Green
Hornet opens with Reid as a child sitting in his father’s office at The Daily
Sentinel, a newspaper that characters
talk about so frequently it is forced
into importance. Owning a business
is tough, but raising Seth Rogen is
even harder. Mr. Reid teaches us this
by taking Rogen’s action figure and
prying off its head. Flashforward, Mr.
Reid dies, causing Britt to question
his bachelor lifestyle that was so idealistic, rumor has it Vince Vaughn left
the set of The Dilemma just to serve
as a gaffer during these brief scenes.
Feeling alone and filled with failed
potential, Britt befriends Kato (Jay
Chou), Mr. Reid’s former mechanic
and assistant. The two strike up an
overly boyish friendship.
The Green Hornet is flawed in
many respects, but the dynamic of
Michel Gondry, Seth Rogen, and Jay
Chou make it interesting nonetheless. Far beneath the thickness of
Rogen’s humor as an actor and as
one of the adapted film’s screenwriters, there is a bizarre gravity about
relationships. Simply speaking, the
message beckons for condemnation;
Britt and Kato discuss their plans as
best friends forever, then lust after
the same girl (Cameron Diaz), then
relentlessly beat the shit out of one
another in an extended fight scene
that probably lasts near ten minutes.
Friendship is difficult, but the wish
for this connection is the driving
force that creates the crime-fighting
duo. The story questions the jealousy
among friends and the difference between hero and sidekick. This motif
hasn’t been present in current superhero movies, most likely since the
addition of sidekicks has been kept
to a lull (thank you, Batman & Robin),
but it was somewhat refreshing to
see this posed as a conflict between
Rogen and Chou. At times it almost
worked. The characters complimented each other, bringing each to
his potential, something bulletproof
cars and abundant wealth failed to
inspire. Unfortunately, this was not
enough. The film failed to establish
a consistent tone; the pieces never
seemed to connect. The blend of
comedy, action, and rare drama created a distracting unevenness that
was present from start to finish.
Take an idea, a feeling, a desire.
Set it in colonial America, give it to
a serial killer, throw a cape around
“ The blend
of comedy,
action, & rare
drama created
a distracting
unevenness
from start
to finish.”
it, or let an exposed and vulnerable
couple embody it. Add an artistic vision—swooping cameras, a bold color palette, a droning score, or remove
all the audio entirely. Storytelling is
limitless; interpretations are endless.
Sometimes it works, other times it
doesn’t. if
13
feature
14INTERVIEW
Mark Naison Talks
CIVIL RIGHTS SOUNDTRACK
INTERVIEW: James Passarelli
FOR
BLACK
HISTORY
MONTH,
we wanted to reflect on the
impact black music had on
easing racial tension in the
wake of the civil rights movement. What better way to do
that than talking to a man
who experienced it firsthand?
Okay, so he’s not quite black,
but he’s the next best thing.
Since enrolling at Columbia University in 1962, Mark
Naison has had an active roll
in the fight for black rights.
His heavy involvement in social activist organizations
like Students for a Democratic Society and CORE (Columbia’s Congress of Racial
Equality) complimented his
interaction with a mélange
of races in the neighborhood
of his 99th Street apartment.
In 1970 he took his first job as
a professor for Fordham University’s newly founded AfroAmerican Institute, and he
has been there ever since.
You might recognize him
as a past guest
on The O’Reilly
Factor or a
contestant on
the “I Know
Black People”
segment
of
Chappelle’s Show,
or the author of the
critically acclaimed
White Boy: A Memoir. He has taught
such diverse courses as “The Sixties,”
“From Rock and
Roll to Hip Hop: Urban Youth Cultures
in Post War America,” and, most re-
cently, “Feeling the Funk:
Research Seminar on Music
of the African Diaspora.” I
caught up with Naison in his
office at Fordham University
to discuss black artists’ part
in transforming segregated
America.
is college
Naison and h
ier.
the color barr
k
a
re
b
d
n
e
ri
girlf
9
Summer 196
Above and Below:
Photos from Naison's
childhood in Brooklyn.
Spring 1959
16
interview
Mark Naison: When I think of music
of the 60s, I think of a few things.
One, there’s music of the civil rights
movement that people sang when
they were in jail or were sitting in
and were about to be beaten by police, and they sang songs to get their
courage up, like “We Shall Overcome” or “I Shall Not Be Moved.”
These were old songs of the black
church or the labor movement that
gave people the courage to participate in actions that would expose
them to grave danger. Then there are
songs like Bob Dylan’s “The Times
They Are a-Changin" and there’s
an old song that Pete Seeger used
to sing, and Peter, Paul, and Mary
updated called “If I Had a Hammer.”
These are all songs associated with
the nonviolent civil rights movement
led by Dr. King and the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee.
But then there are also songs
that were done by mainstream artists that had a big influence, like Curtis Mayfield’s “People Get Ready.”
And, of course, a lot of these artists
came out of the black church too…
Sam Cooke’s “A Change is Gonna
Come.”Then later, when you begin to
move into the black power stage, you
have songs like James Brown’s “Say
it Loud—I’m Black and I’m Proud.”
But you could almost argue that all of
James Brown’s music was an affirmation of the African roots of black
culture, which had always been kind
of suppressed, and every instrument
becomes a percussion instrument.
And it did coincide with the whole
phase of black power and black consciousness in the late 60s. You could
say the same thing about Sly & the
Family Stone—“Thank You For Letting Me Be Myself Again”—and, of
course, Sly having a band with mixed
race and gender. But I also think of
Otis Redding who—even though his
music was not explicitly political—
had that soulful feeling that took the
black culture in its most emotional
and intense form and out it into music. And also broke out of just R&B
and into popular music the way
James Brown did, and Aretha Franklin with that amazing album I Never
Loved a Man the Way I Loved You, and
her taking Otis Redding’s song “Respect” and turning it into a women’s
rights anthem. So, that’s the short
answer. [laughs]
IF: Would you say the main
thing that black music
did for the civil rights
movement, and even
before it, was permeate American culture
and force people to
recognize them?
MN: Well, there was
black music permeating American culture even before the
civil rights movement with people
like Chuck Berry.
He was not an activist, but he was a
black artist who became a folk hero to
a whole generation
of young whites,
and he was the person they danced to.
You could say that
sort of fertilized the soil for
the movements of the 60s. Or even
Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers. I
grew up with African American artists that I emulated, and that was a
new experience for growing up white
in America, and I’m sure my experience was common. Because early
rock ‘n’ roll was pretty much rhythm
and blues with a little bit of country.
Later it became sanitized, but by that
time, by the time the Beatles and
the Stones were coming in, you had
an actual political civil rights movement. So there’s the very conscious
music that people sang at demonstrations, or that reflected those
demonstrations, and then there’s the
rock ‘n’ roll, which was like black music infiltrating the consciousness of
white youth even before there was a
mass civil rights movement.
If you look at the civil rights movement, there was the Montgomery bus
boycott of ’55-’56, but then there was
a four-year period where very little
happened in the form of protest. And
then the student sit-ins took place in
’60 and ’61, and until ’65 it was one
demonstration after another. So the
50s, except for the Montgomery bus
boycott, were pretty quiet from a civil
rights standpoint, but there was rock
‘n’ roll—and the people making rock
“ You could say that [black
music] sort of fertilized the
soil for the movements of
the 60s...I grew up with
African American artists
that I emulated, and that
was a new experience
for growing up white in
America.” ‘n’ roll had absolutely no connection
to the people who were protesting; in
a sense, people protested in jackets
and ties and the rock ‘n’ rollers had
the open shirts and were shaking
their butts. So it was two different
constituencies, but maybe working
toward the same result. There's a
rock ‘n’ roll documentary that shows
Carl Perkins talking to Chuck Berry,
saying, “Chuck, maybe we are doing
as much with our music as the political people are doing to break down
the barriers.” And I agree with that.
I show that movie in my 60s class because rock ‘n’ roll was such a powerful statement.
IF: Do you remember what your introduction to black music was?
MN: I would say [Frankie Lymon and
the Teenagers’] “Why Do Fools Fall
in Love.” But I didn’t think of it as
“black music.” I thought, “Oh, this is
rock ‘n’ roll!” I’m this eleven year-old
who just plays ball and has no interest in girls—all of a sudden, we’re
going to parties and dancing, playing kissing games. It was a whole
revolution in how we saw and conducted ourselves, and a lot of those
songs that were the soundtrack to
17
interview
18
interview
that revolution, especially in New
York, were black doo-wop groups,
like the Drifters, Frankie Lymon and
the Teenagers, Little Anthony and
the Imperials. And then some Italian guys like Dion and the Belmonts.
But again, it wasn’t something conscious; you didn’t think “black.” You
thought, “rock ‘n’ roll, excitement,
parents hate this stuff, this is fun,
this is cool.” And then I became
aware of civil rights largely through
what I saw on television—the demonstrations and the marches and the
police beating demonstrators. Then
I thought, “Wait a minute, there’s
something really wrong here.” Then
I started reading books. And I didn’t
necessarily connect it to the music
I was listening to, but I’m sure the
music, on some subconscious level,
made me receptive.
By ’63, when I became involved
in the protest movement, I became
very aware of folk music. There are
really two traditions—well, there
are more than two—but if you were a
white kid, you were exposed to black
culture through rock ‘n’ roll and you
became exposed to protest culture
through folk music—Bob Dylan,
Joan Baez, Peter Paul and Mary. In
the black culture, you had the gospel
music too, but that was something I
learned about later and realized that
the church fed the civil rights music. I got totally into soul music and
Motown in the 60s, but by that time I
was a civil rights person; I was very
aware, and then I was starting to
think about race and music. But as an
eleven or twelve year-old in a working-class neighborhood in Brooklyn,
it was just music.
It was the same thing with sports.
A lot of my athletic heroes were
black. I didn’t think of them as black.
I liked the way Willie Mays caught
the ball. I don’t know if you ever saw
his basket catch—it was ridiculously
cool. Then there was Elgin Baylor,
who produced the double-pump
move, where you hang in the air and
bring it in and out. If you could jump
high, it was a hell of a way of getting
off your shot. So that was a style that
affected us. But I didn’t think, Elgin
Baylor—black, Bob Cousy—white. It
wasn’t for me until the 60s that I put
the pieces together, but as a historian looking back, I have to think that
“ "I think music touched
more people [than sports]
because it touched women,
as well as men. Sports
in the 50s and 60s was
a totally male preserve,
in a way you can’t even
imagine...Music was where
we came together.” rock ‘n’ roll was a cultural revolution
in terms of how youth, especially
young whites, dealt with race.
IF: Which do you think was more effective at that? Sports or music?
MN: I would say music. I think music touched more people because
it touched women, as well as men.
Sports in the 50s and 60s was a totally male preserve, in a way you can’t
even imagine. My wife was a very
good athlete and had the one option
of being a cheerleader in high school.
There were no women’s teams. And
men would follow sports teams fanatically and know every statistic.
And women had their own world,
which God knows I had no idea of
what it was and certainly didn’t care.
Music was where we came together.
As far as I was concerned, girls were
a different species—I never had a
sister. Then, all of a sudden, rock ‘n’
roll came and we were all together.
I think music is incredibly powerful.
IF: How about film?
MN: We weren’t a big film family. My
parents were so goddamned strict
that I couldn’t go to the movies with
the other kids by myself,
and I pretty much avoided ever doing anything
with my parents. So I
never started going to
the movies until I was
in college, so I’m a bad
person to ask about
this, but I can’t think of
movies that made a big
impression on America’s consciousness.
IF: During the civil
rights movement?
MN: Yeah.
IF: How about later?
MN: I mean, something like [Stanley Kramer’s] Guess Who’s Coming
to Dinner, which dealt with racial
marriage. That’s the one movie I
can think of that had an impact in
that way. And then later, you have
Shaft and Superfly, but by that time,
things had evolved.
Television though—the whole
civil rights movement was like one
big movie. You saw everything on
television, and it was unbelievable.
This was the brilliance of nonvio-
lence: you had demonstrators in
jackets and ties and their Sunday
best and these hoodlum-looking
white people smacking them around
and spitting at them. And it just
flipped the script——the normal
image of American was that we
couldn’t integrate because blacks
were too savage and animalistic…
Huh? Huh? Who the fuck are you
kidding? It was brilliant, and we had
years of it, where the whites were
barbarous whites.
It’s like Sarah Palin running for
vice president. Sometimes I think
the Obama people invented her, that
she was made in a laboratory to ensure that Barack Obama got elected.
This was the same thing; it was
such a gift—these thugged out
white people who were beating
on demonstrators who were
respectful and incredibly eloquent and referencing Christianity and American ideals.
Even as a kid in Brooklyn who
was a little bit of a thug myself,
it was like, “holy shit, this is ridiculous, this is wrong.”
But that’s really from about
’61 to ’65. And the student sit-in
movement started that, and then
right on through to the freedom
rides and into the Birmingham
demonstrations and Selma. This
was all televised. Every night you
sat in front of the TV,
and you didn’t have
much competition
in the house. That’s
the thing that’s
hard to imagine—
no iPods, no cell
phones, no text
messaging. Every night, that’s what
you did—you watched television, everybody did that. You had to go somewhere to go to the movies. There’s no
HBO or VCRs or DVDs. And thinking about it, it made it one country
in a way. There was this period when
television just unified everybody, and
the radio unified everybody. You had
a few mediums, which became permeated by this great cultural phenomenon, but also moral crusade,
and it really got to us.
IF: Did you ever see the recording
industry as exploitative?
MN: I had no conception of what a
recording industry was as a kid. You
didn’t think “recording industry.” You
didn’t think “exploitation.” You didn’t
think of where the music came out of
unless you wanted to make a record.
Even in that time, most of the people
making the records were like these
storefront characters. Have you seen
Cadillac Records, the movie?
IF: No.
MN: It’s about Chess Records—it’s a
great movie. Chess Records wasn’t
much bigger than this room. Motown
was tiny. It was grassroots stuff. So
I don’t think people thought in those
terms—that was all later looking
back on it. In a way it was a sort of
innocent time, but it was a wonderful
time because everything was right in
front of you. It was such a different
country in the 50s. Very few people
were really, really rich, and not that
many people in a place like New York
were really, really poor.
Even as a kid, you
were told you had it
really good because it
was the Cold War and
we were fighting communism, and aren’t
we lucky to live in
America. And my parents also told us we
had it good because
they had lived through
The Depression. So
it was like, “Oh my
God, we have it really
good.” But there’s this
whole group of people
who are being kept out of
this. What the hell is that
about?” And you see those
images on television, and
you say, “This makes no
fucking sense whatsoever.”
And then, of course, there
are the black kids in your
neighborhood, and there
aren’t many of them. And
no one talks about race. In
all my years in Brooklyn, I
never had a conversation
with one of my black friends
about race. I didn’t have
those conversations until I
was away at college.
My doubles partner
was
black—never
said a word about
that. I commuted
with a couple black
kids because I was
out of my district—
never talked about
it. But this was ’58
through ’60. By ’65
everything was out
in the open. if
NAISON'S
CIVIL RIGHTS
PLAYLIST
TRADITIONAL FOLK SONGS
"We Shall Overcome"
"I Shall Not Be Moved"
BOB DYLAN
"The Death of Emmett Till"
"Only a Pawn in Their Game"
PETER PAUL AND MARY
"If I Had a Hammer"
SAM COOKE
"A Change Is Gonna Come"
CURTIS MAYFIELD
AND THE IMPRESSIONS
"People Get Ready"
NINA SIMONE
"Mississippi Goddam"
19
interview
FILM REVIEW
All photos
courtesy of
Marwencol.com.
Marwencol
Directed by Jeff Malmberg
Mark Hogancamp is an artist in
the purest, strangest sense of the
term, in part because he never meant
to be one. After a crippling injury that
drove him to become a hermit in his
own fantasy world, Hogancamp has
brought out into the real world again,
this time on the silver screen with a
unique and empathetic new documentary Marwencol.
Once a self-destructive alcoholic
with a talent for illustration, Mark
Hogancamp was reborn after being
viciously jumped by five men outside
a bar in Kingston, New York in 2000.
Beaten into a nine-day comma that
erased his memory entirely, Hogancamp was forced to relearn everything from reading and writing to
his ex-wife’s name. Wracked with a
subsequent case of PTSD that drove
him to shut himself off from the real
world, Hogancamp instead recovered
both his artistic imagination and his
fine motor skills by painstakingly
constructing the miniature town of
WWII-era Marwencol, Belgium in his
backyard.
With the expansiveness of a rambling epic poem, Hogancamp created a fantasy world in his backyard
with his 1/6th scale town. Using a
cast of reconfigured Barbies and GI
Joes, most of whom are alter egos of
his friends and family, Hogancamp
populated Marwencol with a vivid
cast of characters. His eye for detail
is painstakingly involved: he lovingly
assembled every bit of minutia from
the clip on tiny handguns to the pinups inside his box-sized bar, Hogencamp’s Catfight Club, aka the Ruined
Stocking.
Forced into exile from the real
world and only speaking to a few
20
SS “Hogie” marries his Russian bride Anna.
select friends and documentarian
Jeff Malmberg, Hogancamp instead
chooses to play God to a cast of
virtuous soldiers, cat-fighting local women, bullying SS officers and
even a mysterious time-traveling
Belgian witch named Dejah Thoris.
In order to record the everexpanding storyline in his head,
Hogancamp began photographing
scenes from his fantasy as a kind of
ongoing photo-comic. With no formal
training and a broken-light meter on
his camera, Hogancamp’s photos are
nevertheless remarkably life-like, engaging, haunting and strange. Malmberg’s Marwencol deftly balances a
portrait of Hogancamp’s personality
with a sharp analysis of his art, not
an easy task for a documentary that
also maintains a brisk, enjoyable
pace throughout.
Marwencol, which sometimes
incorporates stop-animation to help
enact the towns “history” would have
worked simply as a showcase for Hogancamp’s incredible “war photography,” yet it surpasses that, examining the man behind the fantasy in
a way that is intimate, affecting and
even hilarious. Hogancamp explains
how he gutted a VCR that “ate his
best porno” in order to make Dejah
Thoris’ time machine. Friends and
neighbors affectionately explain how
they’ve won battles, or been killed
off, within the world of Marwencol.
When a co-worker’s doll double was
shot by the Nazis she seemed noticeably upset to hear the news, although
Hogancamp has a tendency to reincarnate characters.
Hogancamp is incredibly magnetic, he “walks” his model Jeeps on
the highway (to make the tires look
more realistic), chain smokes and
narrates the goings-on of Marwencol
with a mixture of affection, humor
and occasional rage.
The photo-sequence scene in
which Hogancamp’s doll five SS
bullies beat “Hogie” before they are
eliminated by the women of Marwencol is the bizarre dramatic high
point of Malmberg’s film. After this
harrowing encounter with the SS
“Hogie” marries the Russian Anna,
a Soviet-chic Barbie doll based
on his now forgotten ex-wife. The
most complicated and heartbreaking thing about Hogancamp’s hermetically sealed Marwencol mingles
“ Malmberg’s
Marwencol
with the “1/1 scale” world outside.
As Marwencol progresses we hear
Hogancamp refer to his Marwencol
doll-marriage as if it were real, even
tucking his most beloved town women into a tiny bed next to him before
he goes to sleep. Simultaneously he
prepares for a nerve-wracking art
show in New York City and begins revealing the true nature of his shoe fetish. The story, in Hogancamp’s own
words, “gets stranger by the minute,”
but Malmberg’s care for his eccentric
subject hardly misses a beat.
Marwencol may be one of the
best true-life portraits of artistic
weirdness since Terry Zwigoff’s
Crumb. Though Hogancamp’s and
Malmberg’s friendship is apparent,
(and solidified when Malmberg gets
his own doll, a war reporter) Mar-
wencol does not use intimacy as an
excuse to shy from the difficult questions of Hogancamp’s broken life. Is
artistic acclaim helpful or destructive to a decidedly anti-social artist?
Can it ever be healthy to hide inside
a fantasy, no matter how artistically
potent that fantasy might be?
Malmberg has the directorial
maturity to frame those questions
without feeling the need to concoct
any easy answers. For both Hogancamp and his viewers, Marwencol is
an unlikely but beautiful exercise in
the therapeutic qualities of fantasy,
which makes it all the more interesting to watch through the semi-skeptical but loving lens of a thoroughly
well made documentary.
deftly balances
a portrait of
Hogancamp’s
personality
with a sharp
analysis of
his art.”
quin slovek
21
reviews
MUSIC REVIEWS
22
Showroom of
Compassion
The King
is Dead
Cake
The Decemberists
(Upbeat)
(Capitol)
Cake never purported to be complex. The band works within the congenial confines of a simple formula,
a formula comprised of HEEEEEYs
and shouted backup echoes, trumpet
solos, simple synth, undemanding
chords, vibraslap, and regular car and
phone references. More often than
not, the formula was effective, and
Cake yielded a tote box full of charming and enjoyable tunes.
Consequently, they have never
found it difficult to win radio support,
but the band’s inability to garner serious acclaim from many music critics has left them without a niche. Not
that they were looking for one. Their
1994 debut album Motorcade of Generosity, is a fantastic album. I don’t
know why I feel the need to mention
that. Perhaps it is a natural obligation to defend one of the first bands
with whose entire discography I became familiar (and perhaps that was
because they were the first rock band
I heard bring trumpet to the foreground of a song, the naïve soul that I
was). More importantly, however, the
underrated Motorcade best exhibits
how far Cake have fallen.
Even the very title of Cake’s first
album in six years, Showroom of
Compassion, sounds like a discarded
candidate for the name of their first
one. Just as I feared (and hoped so
desperately would not be the case),
it is grossly unremarkable, hopefully
capping off an increasingly steep
down hill career for the Sacramento
natives. If you’re a flow chart person,
think “great to good to bad to worse.”
Earlier Cake songs thrive on their
self-propelled energy, even on slower
ballads; here they seem almost defiantly apathetic. Lead singer John
McCrea and company share a flat and
perfunctory delivery that begs listeners not to listen. But delivery is not
their sole disease. Even Cake’s finest
asset, McCrea’s clever (albeit, often
nonsensical) deadpanned lyrics, has
abandoned them.
“You are mostly in your car. You
always seem so far, no matter where
you are. Everything you say is really
just a play for you to get your way.
And I found out yesterday that no
matter what you say and no matter
what you do, that you have got to—
[chorus repeats].”
Those are actual lyrics from “Got
to Move,” and there’s no getting
around the offensively evident truth:
they’re awful. Listening to “The Winter,” the massively successful attempt at a generic pop song, for further evidence.
“Alcohol, cigarettes, and luxury
goods. Christmas lights look desperate in this room,” sounded McCrea’s
supposed sincerity across my kitchen one day, at which point my brother,
a fellow Cake fan, looked at me with
his infamous “what the—“ face.
“Can we change this?” he asked, and
I swiftly obliged.
The album moves at a crawler’s
pace, and the songs are usually so
sluggish that we’re elated to hear any
form of variety or energy, as on “Easy
to Crash,” Cake’s token explicitly car-
related song (as I mentioned before,
every album has to have at least one,
and this one is complete with sound
effects at the end). Their token rockabilly replica? (the boring “Bound
Away”) Not so much.
The band still has the ability to
write outrageously catchy songs.
Even dawdling songs like “Got to
Move” get stuck in your head. “Long
Time” and “Mustache Man (Wasted),” the fullest song on the album,
are both redeeming songs. But more
often than not, after a minute or so,
the catchiness becomes caustic, and
nausea sets in.
The difficulty comes in speculating whether Cake’s lackluster efforts
are caused by severe writer’s block or
utter lack of effort. Perhaps a combination of the two. The one bright spot
for Cake, however, is the arrival of
that long-awaited critical praise. The
AV Club, Paste, and Boston Globe all
gave the album favorable reviews, or
so I’m told. I haven’t read any of them,
because I am simultaneously indifferent to and horrified by what they
might have found commendable.
So long, Cake. We had joy, we had
fun, even seasons in the sun. But the
hills that we climbed were just seasons out of time.
james passarelli
Oh, The Hazards of Love. Where
to even begin? Frankly, I enjoyed it,
but I definitely might bear some sort
of mythophillic, paleographic slant
that the average listener, who would
probably rather stick a “Kick Me”
sign on the album’s back cover, lacks.
Virgilian and Tolkein-esque imagery
backed by faux-nostalgic prog-folk indulged quite a guilty pleasure. It was,
however, … ambitious? Sprawling?
Divisive? A Head-scratcher? Call it
whatever, just please stick to euphemisms for “WTF were you thinking?!”
Thus, the haphazard Hazards of Love.
Contrarily, The Decemberists responded with an album infinitely humbler. Boasting a number of distinct
blues, folk and Americana influences,
The King Is Dead is doctor-issued
R&R for those still experiencing migraine symptoms after wrapping their
heads around the convoluted The
Hazards of Love. Although at times
bland and rigid, The King Is Dead suggests a group conscious of its critical
perception and willing to tone down
the self-seriousness, traits that had
morphed into weaknesses rather
than strengths after their last record.
But “loose” is a word that’s never
graced the pages of Colin Meloy’s
cumbersome dictionary. So to achieve
that sound, the Decemberists conspicuously invoke a spectrum of flagship
Americana acts, from Harvest Moon
Neil Young to Out of Time R.E.M. to Being There Wilco, and that unabashed
acoustic catharsis that makes their
music so timeless and simple. Bluegrass singer-songwriter Gillian Nash,
and even R.E.M.’s own Peter Buck,
supplement most of the album. The
result is quite the Georgic, but not the
grandiose pastoral Meloy may have
ever imagined himself recording.
“ The music
That’s not to suggest the Decemberists misplaced their library cards.
The group still retains its verbosity,
and as is even the case in their better
albums, quite gratuitously, “Calamity
Song” most evidently fulfilling that archetype. Even as a native cornhusker
with an appreciation for the esoteric,
the nonsense of “And the Andalusian
tribes/ Setting the lay of Nebraska
alight” heavily outweighs the academic brownie points. Likewise is
the Infinite Jest allusion (“In the year
of the chewable Ambien tab”) just a
pretentious cultural name drop.
So too is the music still technically sophisticated, despite the synonymy of Americana with rawness.
The King Is Dead, like anything Decemberist, is rigidly precise, whereas
every aforementioned genre is historically not. I can’t help but think
how goofy the juxtaposition between
Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young with
Meloy, Koenig and Gibbard would
look. And I can’t quite tell if Meloy’s
vocals uncannily imitate Michael
Stipe’s, or if that’s just a prejudice
formed because of the prolific use of
Peter Buck, compounded by a quote
by Meloy that “Down By the Water”
“started out as more of paean to
R.E.M.,” compounded by the critical
unanimity that that particular track
bears irrefutable similarity to “Losing My Religion.” Obviously, I’m not
alone in that opinion.
Admittedly, The King Is Dead
sounds more like a tribute album of
the band’s favorite folk and blues covers than an original LP. Leadoff track
“Don’t Carry It All” is rather uninspired and was initially what I thought
would be a harbinger that perhaps the
Decemberists are going to struggle
with such minimal arrangements. So
[is] still
technically
sophisticated,
despite the
synonymy of
Americana
with rawness.”
too are the Irish fiddle and grave lyrics of “Rox in The Box” comical empty
threats, especially considering the
Decemberists’ track record.
But The King Is Dead more than
has its moments. The lyrics on “Calamity Song” may be overzealous, but
it musically captures the sound they
seem to have sought to achieve, carefree folk-pop from a pleasant acoustic melody and toe-tapping giddy-up
rhythm section, even though the guitar slide at the end desperately fails
to make the song sound unscripted.
The Decemberists sound much more
comfortable as the album progresses, particularly on “Rise to Me,” and
the very natural sounding guitar wail
and harmonica solo.
It’s a very peculiar release date.
The King Is Dead would have made
a perfect summer album if released
then, and it’s not so distinctly summer to make one pine for the dog
days as the entire U.S. gets pounded
with snow. But it’s quite timely for
an indie group coming off an effort
indicating a clear identity crisis. The
King Is Dead is a fitting transition for
a group so naturally ambitious to a
sound ambitiously natural.
ryan waring
23
reviews
“ Dye It
Blonde
Dye It Blonde
Smith Westerns
(Fat Possum)
24
reviews
Smith Westerns are obnoxious.
Last year I nearly swore off the band
forever after a less than enjoyable
encounter with one of their members in the crowd of a Girls concert. The guys are 20 years old and
act 13, but goddamn they know how
to write a catchy tune. Their selftitled 2009 debut was a strong effort
but ultimately lacked any knockout
punches to elevate it beyond relative obscurity. Tracks like “Tonight,”
with its garage-fuzz riff and sweaty
beat hinted that these Chicago boys
might have some more tricks up their
sleeve. Apart from that, I mostly forgot about Smith Westerns until they
returned with “Weekend” at the end
of last year. And boy what a return it
was. The track exhibited a more polished and refined sound that quickly
emerged as one of the best songs of
the year. However don’t mistake adjectives like “polished” or “refined”
to mean, “mature.” On their cleaned
up and glammed out sophomore effort, Dye It Blonde, Smith Westerns
sound as youthfully sportive as ever.
Dye it Blonde is far more indebted
to glam rock gods like David Bowie
and T. Rex than its predecessor.
Whereas their first album sounds
as if it was recorded in a basement
on a twenty-dollar budget, this time
around there is a uniquely epic feel
to most of the tracks. On “End of
the Night,” frontman Cullen Omori
sings, “Everybody wants to be a star
on a Saturday night,” and it’s not
hard to picture those words coming
out of a fully made up and lipstickwearing Bowie circa Ziggy Stardust. Dye It Blonde manages not to
sound bloated and overwrought due
to the classic pop sensibilities and
stripped down garage punk roots that
the Smith Westerns possess. The
surprisingly multifaceted “All Die
Young” lays down a slow but beautiful organ sound until bursting into a
McCartney-esque sing-along. Similarly, tracks like “Still New” give a
distinct British vibe, reminding us of
The Kinks’ late-sixties output; even
Omori’s high and throaty croon has a
certain Ray Davies ring to it.
Despite these comparisons, Dye
It Blonde is far from mere nostalgia
trip. The group’s punk demeanor still
drives much of the album as it duels
the ghosts of its influences. But what
makes Dye It Blonde most enjoyable
is Smith Westerns mastery of the guitar riff. Max Kakacek’s reverb-heavy
riff is what made “Weekend” so infectious, and his skills up and down
the frets give Dye It Blonde a fantastic boost. “Imagine Pt. 3” bounces
along in familiar glam-punk fashion
until climaxing with a gorgeous guitar explosion in the most satisfying
30-seconds on the album. On closer,
“Dye the World,” Kakacek’s guitar
slides leisurely through the track almost as a second set of vocals on the
slow churning blockbuster.
What Dye It Blonde lacks, similar to their debut, is the knockout
track to raise it from good to great.
Although there are no blatant missteps on the album, it is easy to get
lost in the over abundance of slower
tracks. After the borderline pop brilliance of “Weekend” right off the bat,
it’s disappointing not to hear that
level of mastery again. Regardless,
Smith Westerns easily still manage
to avoid the dreaded Sophomore
Slump on what is an extremely enjoyable album full or surprises. On Dye
It Blonde, Smith Westerns should at
least be commended for their use
manages
not to sound
bloated and
overwrought
due to the
classic pop
sensibilities
and stripped down
garage punk
roots that
the Smith
Westerns
possess.”
of a steady hand while in search of
a specific vision, rather than throwing everything out there in a crowded
mess of indie punk.
bryant kitching
“ It's the
Kaputt
Destroyer
(Merge)
Trouble in Dreams, let's be clear,
was by no means a bad album. It's
just that in the grand mythology of
Dan Bejar, it stood quite brazenly as
his most boring collection of songs
since the late 90s. But where those albums failed from a lack of fidelity and
direction, Trouble in Dreams suffered
from the opposite effects. It seemed
to be drowning in the effusive praise
heaped upon its predecessor Destroyer's Rubies, too eager to stroke
the same neurons as his first fullband masterpiece. On paper, it's an
easy decision to understand—once
you've given the fans exactly what
they want, why not do it again? But
the music felt disengaged, even apathetic in its attempt to turn the same
trick twice. It's just not in Bejar's
blood to play up to critical ideals,
(see: Streethawk, Your Blues) and he
struggled to hide that from everyone.
Kaputt, then, is an album with
some heavy lifting to do. It has to
prove Bejar can still push himself,
can still deliver his intensely meta
lyricism without that feeling of pandering that invaded his most recent
solo projects, Trouble in Dreams and
husband-wife collaboration Hello
Blue Roses. And most distressingly,
it has to prove one of the decade's
most creative and decorated artists
isn't getting his mid-career “playing
it safe” period started yet. Kaputt,
from the opening "Chinatown" all the
way through the closing edit of 2009's
"Bay of Pigs", delivers a knowing
grin and a wink, and lets the audience
breath the sigh of relief we were all
anxiously awaiting.
Kaputt borrows plenty from Bejar's two-album sucker punch of
Your Blues and Rubies, marrying the
grandiose waves of synthesizers of
the former to the Bowie/Band ethos
that guided the latter. Added to the
mix is a heaping portion of sophisticated, sexual saxophone harmonics
that add a refreshing new element to
the Bejar sound. He also takes a cue
from Hello Blue Roses, unexpectedly
inviting soul singer Sibel Thrasher
to sing backup vocals on nearly every track. While her contribution to
"Blue Eyes" is one of the album's few
stark negatives, the flavor that she
adds everywhere else adds a New
Pornographers-like wrinkle to the
Destroyer mythology, taking it even
further from its one-man band core.
Kaputt doesn't have a standout
pop song such as "Painter in Your
Pocket", "Certain Things You Ought
to Know", "Beggars Might Ride"; it's
more reliant on mood and sequence
than wowing you at any one specific
moment. Consequently, the longer
songs take center stage, with "Suicide Demo for Kara Walker" epitomizing the esoteric lyricism we have
come to expect from Bejar (meta to
the point that it constantly foreshadows "Song for America") and "Bay of
Pigs" providing the sort of obtuse storytelling that made "Rubies" such a
stunning track. Kaputt is, in every way,
a Destroyer album Trouble in Dreams
implied might no longer be possible.
It's both quintessential Bejar and a
style we've not quite heard from him
before. It's the first Event Record of
2011, that one album you're rushing to
the forums and party couches, asking
anyone who will listen if they've heard
that Kaputt album yet.
All hail the return of the true Destroyer, folk rock demigod.
first Event
Record of
2011, that
one album
you're
rushing to
the forums
and party
couches,
asking anyone who
will listen
if they've
heard that
Kaputt
album yet.”
david amidon
25
reviews
80 MUSIC
MINUTES
OF
>
Underrated
AFRICAN
BY
AMERICANS
It’s no secret that “white music” has been borrowing from “black music” (if you want to
make those distinctions) since the early part of the 20th century. But, as is expected, many
fantastic songs by black musicians never see the light of day. We chose to use this issue’s
80 Minutes of Music to shine some light on a handful of those songs. The first half comprises
deep cuts from well-known African American artists, and the second half consists of songs
from some excellent but under-appreciated artists.
Deep Cuts from Well-Known Black Artists
1
5:36
CHIC – “You Can Get By”
Bernard Edwards’ Niles Rogers’ 1977 eponymous debut album went Gold behind the
force of smash hits “Everybody Dance” and
“Dance, Dance, Dance (Yowsah, Yowsah,
Yowsah),” but this A-Side closing disco
gem often gets overlooked.
5
5:09
EARTH, WIND, & FIRE – “Africano”
What would we do without Maurice White’s
melting falsetto? Well, here’s a test – an instrumental Earth, Wind, & Fire track that will
make you wish you were from Africa, while
at the same time reminding you how happy
you are just to be alive.
3:26
DINAH WASHINGTON – “You're Crying"
Backed by Quincy Jones' band, one of the
great overlooked artists in the soul canon
is Dinah Washington. Her voice is one of
the purest in the genre, and here she uses
her sultry delivery to comfort a crying exlover that one day they'll meet again. "Crying just means you still believe we're really
through," she coos during the climax. What
a lonesome man wouldn't give to hear those
words from his lady of choice.
3
6
2
2:54
BOBBY WOMACK –
"(If You Don't Want My Love) Give It Back"
This deep cut shows Bobby Womack at his
best, cranking out gospel-style vocals for a
very worthy cause—a simple, repetitive request to a lover in a triangle that she help
him move on if she's willing to choose the
other man.
4
4:28
DEVIN THE DUDE – “Cooter Brown"
Devin the Dude is best known as the prototypical weed rapper, but planted right at the
beginning of To tha X-Treme is a shockingly
vulnerable moment: out of alcohol, weed and
money, Devin slumps onto his couch and la-
26
playlist
ments the fickle nature of friendship and existence. Heady stuff from a guy best known
for sweetly singing "I just want to fuck you"
on Dr. Dre's 2001.
4:07
DONNY HATHAWAY –
"Valdez in the Country"
Donny Hathaway was renowned the world
over for his vocal chops, which is what
makes "Valdez in the Country" such a subtle
stunner. Foregoing any singing in favor of an
instrumental tribute to the beauty of a welltuned Rhodes, Hathaway effortlessly puts
his compositional chops on display here.
7
4:42
LIL WAYNE – “Everything”
These days, Lil' Wayne is accepted as ubiquitous. But his discography is so deep and
labyrinthine there is plenty about his past
of which current fans have no concept. "Ev-
erything", from his sophomore album Lights
Out, is one such track. "I know you can't
be close to me nigga, I know," he raps to
his father on the chorus, as his verses explore the ways his life has become what it
is. It's a rare, sober moment from the man
best known these days for "Lollipop" and
"Steady Mobbin."
8
3:38
SLY & THE FAMILY STONE –
“Babies Makin' Babies"
As the closing jam on Sly Stone's Fresh,
"Babies Makin' Babies" has the unenviable
task of closing one of the funkiest albums
ever released. But with the simple, effective refrain of "babies makin' babies", the
Family Stone ably supplies its usual dose
of deep funk interspersed with mild social
commentary and a track that can stand toe
to toe with any of their better-known cuts.
9
3:30
SAMUEL L. JACKSON – "Stack-o-lee"
Few moments of Craig Brewer’s Black Snake
Moan are more gratifying than Samuel L.
Jackson’s raucous take on the traditional
folk song. Jackson tells his fitting version
of the story: “’Bout that time a pimp eased
up and turned out the lights. That’s when I
had old Billy Lyons dead in my sight. When
the lights come back on, old Billy’d gone
to rest. I pumped nine of my bullets in his
MOTHA-FUCKIN’ CHEST!”
Songs From Under-appreciated Black Artists
1
4:25
RAPPIN' 4 TAY – “Paid My Dues"
Rappin' 4-Tay is selected as more of a
stand-in for the vast numbers of overlooked
west coast albums, but "Paid My Dues" is
an absolute summertime classic. 4-Tay
slips in unexpected rhymes ("wasn't no
bangin' and gang-affiliated deaths/a brother had to go to school just to get a rep")
and, in the process of crafting a "thank God
I'm out of jail" record applies more than
enough relatable pathos for anyone fond of
his simpler years.
return to Georgia, and the couple's
excitement to find themselves in God.
2
6
4:09
LINVAL THOMPSON – “Just Another Girl"
Linval Thompson's classic album I Love
Marijuana doesn't have much to do with
God's plant save for the title track, but the
haze of THC is prominent throughout each
track on the record. "Just Another Girl"
is the other big-time standout, featuring a
beautifully subversive performance from
Thompson declaring his love, "but remember, you're just another girl." It's a reggae
jam with the sort of dichotomous lyricism
usually reserved for Motown and Stax.
3
3:41
THE GLADIATORS – “Thief in the Night"
In the same way 4-Tay was a placeholder
for the West, these guys could be the same
for the roots movement of late 70s Jamaica.
This track in particular seems like it owns
plenty of influence on modern groups like
Vampire Weekend and the Dodos, built on
simple harmonies and a sparse, multi-instrumental rhythm.
4
2:04
DUDLEY PERKINS – “Coming Home”
Dudley Perkins’ spouse, Georgia Anne
Muldrow, joins him to deliver a very simple,
free form duet over one of Madlib's greatest
instrumentals about Dudley's excitement to
5
5:46
GEORGIA ANNE MULDROW –
“Daisies”
Georgia Anne Muldrow is a hell of a
creative talent, and nowhere is that
truth more evident than on "Daisies.”
Muldrow delivers a righteously raucous slab of free funk meditating on
death, fame and the affect of a great
live performance.
4:31
RAS KASS –
"Ordo Abchao (Order out of Chaos)"
Another overlooked MC, Kass is a guy
who bucks nearly all West Coast stereotypes. This track, like many on Soul on Ice,
explains the chaotic way America is constructed and the various institutions put in
place to make its citizens feel otherwise.
"I put together this puzzle, but the pieces
don't fit...what the fuck."
7
3:30
DARONDO – “Didn't I"
The 70s soul singer has only recently begun to get widespread credit for his simple
rhythms and stunning, sky-high vocals, but
it’s still not enough. “Didn’t I” deserves
consideration as one of the greatest songs
ever recorded.
9
5:36
LUTHER ALLISON –
"All the King's
Horses"
The self-taught blues guitarist tore down
just about every house until his death in
1997. “All the King’s Horses” is the energetic opening track on 1995’s Blue Streak.
8
8:48
ABBEY LINCOLN –
“Down Here Below"
One of the Chicago-born great jazz singers, Lincoln composed most of her songs.
She also had outstanding roles in a number
of films throughout her life, but let’s just
focus on one of her many talents. “Down
Here Below,” off her 1995 album, A Turtle’s
Dream, sees her invoking the spirit of her
idol, Billie Holiday.
david amidon
james passarelli
27
playlist