Close to the Edge

As a white American male aged 30, I have a certain closeted affinity for the band Yes. Waiting for my wife to get home from work this Friday night, I opened a beer and threw on "Close to the Edge" for the umpteenth time, marveling at the minor thrill I get when musicians strive to make music sound more complicated than it ever needs to be. This thrill comes at a cost, of course: just like every other time I listen to "Close to the Edge," I completely zoned out after about 9 minutes—at the beginning of "I Get Up I Get Down," I think.

In his capsule review for Tales from Topographic Oceans, Christgau writes, "the whole is definitely less than the sum of its parts, and some of the parts are pretty negligible." He could just as well be reviewing "Close to the Edge," and yet I get a very strong and particular thrill from this song and album that I don't get from, say, something by Emerson, Lake and Palmer. Skeptics damn their virtuosity, but virtuosity doesn't tarnish The Inner Mounting Flame or Countdown to Ecstasy, and it doesn't usually tarnish Yes. And if their pomposity lacks taste or cool, at least its good-natured. So I love the thrill I get from Yes, even if it only lasts for half of a (20-minute) song (or less), and subjects me to some god-awful lyrics.

Speaking of god-awful, I urge fans to read the behind-the-scenes comments about Yes over at Wikipedia. Under the sub-heading "Incredibly Pretentious and Awful," fans discuss how to handle Yes's wealth of negative criticism. Fans dismiss the need for it, but bigger fans should want to include it. If you love them, a little bad press (and historical truth) can't hurt you, and more discussion is always far better than less. Yes is one of those great bands that made some terrible music. It's okay to embrace the truth.

Junot Díaz

I'm not a big fiction reader: I love stories and language, but I rarely know who and what to read. I spend most of my time reading up on music and film, which consumes my life, so I just haven't found the time to truly uncover the novel. But now that my sister-in-law works for a literary agency in the publishing industry, I think I should take a better swing at it. I do cherish what few contemporary writers I have investigated, like Walter Mosley, but I also find clunkers that just aren't for me. Perhaps when I find my Christgau of the literary world, I'll have a better ratio of success.

Thankfully, I may have found another writer to dive in to. In Sunday's Star-Ledger, Mosley is quoted naming Junot Díaz's Drown "a masterpiece," which piqued my interest. Then I open the latest New York Magazine, and there Díaz is again, promoting The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, his follow-up to the acclaimed Drown. If I was merely interested before, now I can't wait to devour his work, if only because of this sublime observation on the difficulty and subsequent rewards of the writing process:

"When I talk to people I'm such a dumbass. . . . [But] when I enter that higher-order space that's required to write, I'm a better human. For whatever my writing is, wherever it's ranked, it definitely is the one place that I get to be beautiful."

As you all know, when someone can be profound and find room for the word "dumbass" in the same statement, I'm in. Like anyone who loves words and sentences yet struggles to write them clearly, I know the allure of this beautiful place. Deep.

M.I.A.'s "Boyz"

If you haven't heard Arular, believe the hype. Becky and I do. Like early hip-hop, M.I.A. is both sonically avant-garde and completely accessible. And like any beautiful musical idea, M.I.A.'s style isn't a move towards complexity (e.g., Radiohead or Wilco), it's a move towards a different simplicity. Not that that simplicity is simple or easily obtained. In fact, making music sound difficult takes about an hour; making music sound simple takes years, sometimes a lifetime. Just ask Miles Davis or Duke Ellington. Or John Lennon. Or James Brown.

Anyway, her new single, "Boyz" could be catchier that "Sunshowers," or even "Bucky Done Gone." And it captures the world-wide musical zeitgeist better than Manu Chao, which is saying something. (His new single, "Rainin in Paradize," is great, too, by the way.) This may be my favorite video ever. If revolution can be this much fun, there may be hope for us yet.