College-Level Writing and Research Tutor Available

I am a graduate assistant at the University of Southern California, and I would love to tutor anyone who needs help in the art of writing papers. I have a background in academic writing, journalism and music history, and I have written music and film reviews for a local newspaper in Annapolis, Maryland, and researched and consulted for Wynton Marsalis's Jazz at Lincoln Center in New York City. I know how to organize my ideas and conduct research efficiently to make deadlines, and I can help you do the same for any college-level class within the arts and humanities. Beyond that, I love to write, and can help you express your ideas with confidence and panache.

As for my teaching credentials, I've taught at Rutgers University in New Jersey, and I currently assist with, and occasionally lecture for, classes at USC. At both universities I've helped students refine their paper topics, given them guidance to conduct efficient research, and graded the finished product with ample comments and suggestions.

I'm happy to email references and my resume to anyone who is interested. I charge $20/hour, and can meet students anywhere in the Los Angeles area. I live in Garvanza, so I'm close to Pasadena, South Pasadena and Highland Park. Please contact me at bradleysroka [at] gmail [dot] com. Thank you!

Long Time Gone

My last post was in January?! F***! Well, friends, I'm back. I completed my first year of Ph.D. school: So far so good. I was hoping to work this summer and stack some dollars, but the recession has kept me at home. I'm usually studying my record collection, or taking naps, but I have knocked back a few books, listened to a lot of music that I wouldn't ordinarily hear, and wrote a song(!). It's my first in several years; boredom is a magical thing.

I had a big metal phase a few weeks ago. Lest you think that means I simply listened to Def Leppard or something (though I did), let me explain in more detail: First, I browsed through Ian Christe's Sound of the Beast: The Complete Headbanging History of Heavy Metal, and, despite the lackluster prose and sketchy research, I firmly recommend his handy list of best metal albums in the back. Though he lists recommendations throughout the book for major subgenres of metal, he gives the mother of all lists in the very, very back: The 25 Greatest Heavy Metal Albums of All Time. Trust me, it's not for sissies. Personally, I love Carcass's Heartwork and Emperor's In the Nightside Eclipse, and totally agree that Ride the Lightning is Metallica's best. Who knew Rainbow's Rising was better than Dio's solo Holy Diver? Seems impossible, but it's oh so right. Anyway, this led to other lists and other albums, but nothing could match Christe's choices. So here they are:



The Best 25 Heavy Metal Albums of All Time
from Sound of the Beast by Ian Christe

AC/DC, Back in Black
Angel Witch, Angel Witch
Bathory, Under the Sign of the Black Mark
Black Sabbath, Black Sabbath
Carcass, Heartwork
Celtic Frost, To Mega Therion
Destruction, Infernal Overkill
Dream Death, Journey Into Mystery
Emperor, In the Nightside Eclipse
Exodus, Bonded by Blood
Holy Terror, Terror and Submission
Immortal, Battles in the North
Iron Maiden, Killers
Judas Priest, Unleashed in the East
Kreator, Terrible Certainty
Mercyful Fate, Melissa
Metallica, Ride the Lightning
Morbid Angel, Formulas Fatal to the Flesh
Mötley Crüe, Shout at the Devil
Motörhead, Overkill
Napalm Death, Fear, Emptiness, Despair
Rainbow, Rising
Saxon, The Eagle Has Landed
Slayer, Hell Awaits
Voivod, Dimension Hatröss

Since my metal phase, I started reading some rock history, like Peter Guralnick's Sweet Soul Music and Jim Curtis's criminally undervalued Rock Eras 1954-1984. Both are excellent, though I eventually cooled off on both of them. It's not a loss of quality or anything, it's just that, as you know, my real jones is rock criticism. When I dug up Pop Music and the Press, edited by Steve Jones, I had to put the other books down. This, my friends, is the mother lode.



Some of the essays are kind of juvenile: for instance, in his essay "Critical Senility vs. Overcomprehension," Robert B. Ray claims that critical darlings like Lou Reed, PJ Harvey, De La Soul and solo John Lennon are victims of overcomprehension (76). According to Ray, critics believe each of these artists must be valuable for their lyrics, because good (or "political") lyrics (according to Ray) make critics overpraise otherwise musically lackluster albums. This is, of course, total bullshit: the entire known history of music is intertwined with the musical expression of lyrics and poetry (all the way back to the Middle Ages; look it up), and there is a lot of nuance there to pick apart and discuss. Unfortunately, Ray more or less discredits that whole business of setting text to music, and that's really his loss. I agree that many critics are terrible at discussing this relationship, and that critics can rely too heavily on their interpretation of song lyrics in their reviews, but the relationship itself is a beautiful thing. I'm disappointed that Ray isn't willing to consider it.

On the bright side, several authors turn in essential discussions on criticism and rock writing in general: Steve Jones and Kevin Featherly on Hentoff, Gleason, Bangs and Christgau; Gudmundsson, Lindberg, Michelsen and Weisethaunet on the British rock press; Jeff Chang on hip hop; and the legendary Simon Frith on professional rock criticism within the larger field of arts criticism. Anyone interested must dive in.

Finally, I've also kept busy making mix CDs. My only great one so far concerns Max Martin. For those who don't know, Max Martin is a Swedish songwriter and producer who cowrote and coproduced dozens of hits for Backstreet Boys, Britney, Kelly Clarkson, etc. This mix includes all of my favorites, laid end to end in mostly chronological order. It's really exciting to hear how his style begins as slick Europop (1-3), then mutates into this kind of minor-keyed apocalyptic/millennial dance music (4-14, ending with two strange and undervalued Britney tracks), then changes again into a bombastic rock-influenced sound that gets closer and closer to disco as it reaches the present (15-21). Nearly every track is perfect, and as a whole, it totally flows. Below is the track list with relevant release dates. I call it "My Life Would Suck Without Max Martin." Because it would. Duh.



1. Backstreet Boys, “Quite Playing Games (With My Heart),” June 10, 1997
2. Robyn, “Show Me Love,” October 28, 1997
3. Backstreet Boys, “As Long As You Love Me,” October 21, 1997
4. ‘N Sync, “I Want You Back,” January 20, 1998
5. Backstreet Boys, “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back),” March 31, 1998
6. Britney Spears, “…Baby One More Time,” October 23, 1998
7. Backstreet Boys, “I Want It That Way,” April 27, 1999
8. Backstreet Boys, “Larger Than Life,” August 24, 1999
9. Britney Spears, “(You Drive Me) Crazy (The Stop Remix!),” September 28, 1999
10. Céline Dion, “That’s the Way It Is,” November 1, 1999
11. Britney Spears, “Oops!...I Did It Again,” March 27, 2000
12. ‘N Sync, “It’s Gonna Be Me,” June 13, 2000
13. Britney Spears, “Overprotected,” March 12, 2002
14. Britney Spears, “Cinderella,” from Britney, November 6, 2001
15. Kelly Clarkson, “Since U Been Gone,” December 14, 2004
16. Pink, “Who Knew,” May 8, 2006
17. Pink, “U and Ur Hand,” October 31, 2006
18. Katy Perry, “I Kissed a Girl,” May 6, 2008
19. Pink, “So What,” August 15, 2008
20. Katy Perry, “Hot N Cold,” September 30, 2008
21. Kelly Clarkson, “My Life Would Suck Without You,” January 13, 2009



Yeah, Angel Witch to Katy Perry. Don't worry, it confuses my wife as well. Being a musicologist isn't all fun and games.

Okay, that's it. RIP Michael Jackson. Lemon out.

Post-'69 Jazz Record Poll

As requested, here are PDFs of the Village Voice's "Post-'69 Jazz Record Poll," originally published for their "Miles Davis at 60" jazz supplement from August 1986. Note the number of recordings selected from the 1980s, despite the poll allowing for any recording released in the 1970s. And I thought the '80s was supposed to be a dry spot? Or is it just that many of these recordings are out of print? Hmm... Also note that many of these choices end up on the best of the 1980s poll republished at Destination: Out. To all of my jazz obsessives and record poll nuts: enjoy!

Best Jazz Albums of the 1980s at D:O

Today, Destination: Out posted the Village Voice's Best Jazz Albums of the 1980s, originally published in 1990. And to think I was just about to do the same! Anyway, perhaps if they don't post the Best Jazz Albums since 1969 (published in 1986), I'll have to post it. We shall see. Enjoy!

Reprint: Broken Flowers Reviewed

Ah yes, another find as I clean out my hard drives. This one was written for the Bay Weekly back when I was one of their occasional film reviewers. This review shares similar themes with the Bresson critique, but I think the language is better. You decide.

Broken Flowers by Jim Jarmusch
August 17, 2005

Broken Flowers stars Bill Murray as Don Johnston, a successful, retired computer entrepreneur and aging Don Juan who receives an anonymous letter claiming he has a 20-year-old son he’s never met. Coaxed by his sleuthing Ethiopian neighbor Winston (Jeffrey Wright), Johnston revisits five of his former flames on an extensive road trip to solicit clues and find the author of this mysterious letter.

Each of his five stops—to a widowed personal closet organizer (Sharon Stone), a married prefab luxury home salesperson (Frances Conroy), an animal communicator (Jessica Lange), the angry wife of a rough backwoods mechanic (an unrecognizable Tilda Swinton), and a gravesite—is lush with eccentric characters, period details, cultural juxtapositions and deadpan humor. Like his first feature, Stranger Than Paradise, director Jim Jarmusch finds humor as much in what’s said as what isn’t said, so that awkward silences and physical comedy carry the bulk of the laughs. He uses plot to intermingle his characters, then enriches them with personal idiosyncrasies, gestures, props and sets.

Unlike Alexander Payne’s About Schmidt, another comedy about being middle-aged and dissatisfied, the emptiness in the lives of these characters is presented empathetically. Dora, the luxury home salesperson, was a flower child when she met Johnston, but now lives in a treeless suburb and cooks precut frozen carrots for dinner. This may be humiliating for you or me, but she’s not desperate—life requires compromise, and she seems to appreciate her stability and the love of her schmaltzy, doting husband.

Even at a young 28, I see how freewill, perseverance and pulling myself up by my bootstraps still doesn’t cancel out fate and circumstance. Jarmusch seems to embrace this as a worldview and find solace in it—his characters in this film and Down By Law, for example, find love and joy in unanticipated, and often unseemly, situations. Laura, Sharon Stone’s character, did not ask to lose her husband in a fiery wreck on a racetrack, but she did. Ingmar Bergman would film her life as a tragedy. But she’s half asleep next to Don Johnston the day after his visit, affectionately and awkwardly pasting her hand on his nose and cheek. She’s warm and funny, and grateful for what she has. Jarmusch understands that. So should we.

Dead Man is more poetic and Ghost Dog is a tighter and more satisfying narrative, but Broken Flowers is still the work of a master filmmaker in his prime. If you’ve never seen a Jim Jarmusch film, what are you waiting for?

Reprint: 2 or 3 Things I Know About Robert Bresson

Since I'm a media nerd and a neat freak, I chose to spend one of my few remaining days off sorting through and cleaning out my hard drives. I guess that's just how I roll. Anyway, I discovered a file of articles I wrote for a previous weblog, and damned if this one isn't interesting. I have not seen a Bresson film since I wrote this, so I can't say whether I still agree with my argument; besides, you know how polemical youthful arguments can be. Regardless, however, it is a window into the development of my current aesthetic perspective, as well as being a nifty, if derivative, piece of writing (the tone and structure is loosely based on Robert Christgau's famous critique of the Eagles). I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did revisiting it!

2 or 3 Things I Know About Robert Bresson
February 14, 2004

Today I caught Robert Bresson’s Au Hasard, Balthazar at the AFI Silver Theater in Silver Spring. This is a “supreme masterpiece,” according to J. Hoberman, and “one of the 50 Great Films” according to the latest prestigious BFI Sight and Sound Poll. Jonathan Rosenbaum lists it in his Placing Movies collection as one of his dozen or so favorites, alongside Playtime, City Lights and The Tiger of Eschnapur, which are all favorites of mine that I discovered through Mr. Rosenbaum’s criticism. Besides being the brunt of a Christgau joke, I challenge you to find a critic or cinephile that doesn’t praise his work.

Like Diary of a Country Priest, which I saw last week by way of the gorgeous Criterion DVD, Au Hasard, Balthazar is presented simply—every scene is clear and narratively focused, and his themes are only just below the surface. I deeply respect how attractive his composition is without bringing attention to itself (though I found Diary of a Country Priest more attractive). And the editing is brisk, so that even when the themes are heavy, the filmmaking is not. And the acting (by non-actors supposedly) is beautiful.

I loved a scene near the end where the donkey, Balthazar, is employed by a circus, and Mr. Bresson cuts between one-shots of animals in cages and Balthazar being led to his trainer. We obviously never know exactly what Balthazar is thinking, but this scene is very moving—the proud and ferocious tiger and the energetic monkey are both kept from being themselves by these cages, and we sympathize through the eyes of this donkey who understands the pain of being held down. To top it off, the scene illuminates just how much we personify animals and objects around us, and how this is a very human and, given the creative liberties we allow our sympathy, a somewhat humorous thing for us to do.

That said, I now add that, like with the Eagles, what I find most interesting about these films is how much I dislike them. In a nutshell, and obviously over-simplified, Au Hasard Balthazar and Diary of a Country Priest are about the cruelty of the world and how that affects people. Mr. Bresson has very rich observations on the subject, and apparently they resonate with an audience. I admit that the endings of both films are movingly gentle, like Diary of a Country Priest’s “all is grace” finale. And I agree with Mr. Rosenbaum that they are accessible—except for the fact that I think they’re boring.

I’m paraphrasing from my notoriously faulty memory, but Godard supposedly proclaimed this film “reality in an hour and a half.” I don’t know about your life, but in mine, when life’s got you by the balls, you crack a joke. You smile to the cashier even when you’ve had a rough day, and miraculously, they smile back. You make terrible decisions then laugh about them over a beer with your friends or over the telephone. Unless I’m missing something in the translation, these films are humorless.

I didn’t like Diary of a Country Priest, but gave Au Hasard, Balthazar a chance (and an hour’s drive) because it has a donkey, and even if this donkey isn’t cute, at least he’ll be sweet—or maybe, I thought, since his role as a metaphor is blatant, Mr. Bresson will be blessedly obvious and maybe even playful. As a Charlie Chaplin and Alfred Hitchcock fan, as a Joss Whedon fan, as a Sonny Rollins and Ornette Coleman fan, I prefer the obvious and playful, and usually sneer at taste—not because subtlety is bad, but because it’s less interesting. Mr. Bresson is oozing with taste—to the point where it feels antithetical to reality and actual human experience. And he’s a real bummer.

Who knows, maybe I’ll like A Man Escaped. Regardless, at least one good thing about not being a film critic is that I don’t have to like Robert Bresson. I’m not crazy about Ingmar Bergman either.

Best Albums of 2008

As if to save us all from Bon Iver and Fleet Foxes, Robert Christgau posted his preliminary top 20 albums at Slate this morning. His final list is usually published in February, but, until then, this will do. Similarly, Alex Ross posted a list of favorite Classical recordings of the year at the New Yorker's online blog, and Tom Hull posted his top 10 jazz albums for the Village Voice on his personal blog.

Christgau and Ross are my eyes and ears for music every year, and Hull is always interesting: upon first listen, the William Parker album that claims his top spot is something to treasure. So what are you waiting for? I'm going shopping just this afternoon! God I love this time of year.