Saturday, December 19, 2009

Looking for the Crest of a New Wave



Over the last week of my hectic semester I found that I had three listening trends that I’m trying to make some sense of now that the semester is over. First, I can credit an interest in period instrument performances to Dr. Bruce Brown at USC; as I was studying for my final exam, I fell in love with the Beethoven and Mozart performances required as listening. Several of these recordings feature a pianoforte, which brings attention to each composers’ considerations of the range and texture of this new (at the time) instrument. What a difference! Subsequently, I borrowed the Trevor Pinnock collection of Mozart symphonies, and the John Eliot Gardiner collection of Mozart piano concertos, both on Archiv, from the library. Recommended.

Second, I can’t stop buying metal albums off of Decibel’s Best Metal of the Decade list. If you remember from a previous post, my metal phase started with Ian Christe’s book this summer, which led me to several albums I’ve come to like, but albums from the Decibel list that I’d never ever heard of are really stretching my personal aesthetic. I listen to a lot of metal out of interest, but now I’m listening because I’m sincerely addicted to it. Opeth’s Blackwater Park, which I bought a year or so ago, is now at the top of my personal playlist, despite serious reservations about Mikael Akerfeldt’s occasional crooning (I prefer it when he sounds like the cookie monster). Two things keep bringing me back:

1. Typically the songs will alternate between soft and loud passages, without referring to conventional song form. This is done so poorly so often that I’m enjoying how successfully this band can pull it off. The album comes across like a Romantic nineteenth-century symphony, as problematic as that can be for my personal aesthetic. The New Grove encyclopedia defines Romanticism as wild and unruly compared to classicism, which is a challenge for me because, as a Christgau-ian pop music scholar, I’m a classicist. But Opeth create rewarding peaks with these waves of action and emotion tempered by somber moments that still remain consistent within a larger metal aesthetic (which, I theorize, is essential for the genre). So rather than soak in each moment as a moment, I find the album gains power when you can hear each part within the larger composition, which happens as the album becomes more familiar.

2. Also, though I’m not a big fan of metal’s obsession with suspended chords and the lot, Akerfeldt finds some sweet notes within the harmony when he writes melodies, and the lead guitar parts pick up on them as well. I haven’t completed any kind of analysis, but to my ears it’s like when a jazz performer nails a flat 7th or another non-diatonic note within a chord—it’s unexpected and yet so perfect. And this happens on Blackwater Park quite often. Yummy.

Other than Blackwater Park, I’m listening to Cave In’s Jupiter, Isis’s Oceanic, and Mastodon’s Remission, and a few others, though I like these four the best so far.

The third listening trend is my addiction to Against Me!’s New Wave three years late. I finally picked it up at Rockaway records a couple weeks ago, and this week I’ve had it in steady rotation. For the record, 2007 is my favorite year for music. I get all tingly inside when I think about the first time I heard M.I.A.’s Kala, Arcade Fire’s Neon Bible, Lily Allen’s Alright, Still, and Rilo Kiley’s Under the Blacklight. I listened to Burial’s Untrue when I walked around Los Angeles at night during my first trip to California to interview with USC in January 2008. Crazy Ex-Girlfriend made me a huge Miranda Lambert fan. And 2007 was the year I taught my first music classes, so all of the music of this time is special to me. Anyway, that said, it took me a while to figure out New Wave.

In his Consumer Guide review, Robert Christgau writes that New Wave is produced by “Butch Vig (of Garbage, not Nirvana).” This doesn’t make a lot of sense after only a couple listens to the album; the compositions are terse and the production abrasive, which is unlike both Vig’s production for Garbage and Nirvana. But, again, with familiarity, the sound of each song opens up: you hear the layers of guitar overdubs, the backwards tape effect on “Borne on the FM Waves of the Heart,” and the background vocals on “Up the Cuts,” all of which are more typical of Garbage than Nirvana. And then you also hear the sublime moves outside of punk harmony in just about every song, and you hear the lyrics.

Ah, those lyrics! “Thrash Unreal” and “Borne on the FM Waves” have so much clear-eyed, unsentimental empathy, and so much love. And the calls for change in “New Wave” and “Up the Cuts” are so universal and full of hope. I just love it. In fact, I love it so much that I still haven’t absorbed the album past “Borne on the FM Waves”; after that song, I can’t help but go back to the beginning and listen to all six songs again.

Okay, that’s all for now. Below are links to Blackwater Park and New Wave over at Grooveshark. Thanks for reading!



Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Classical Stocking Stuffer


I love procrastinating! While I'm supposed to be studying for exams today, I decided instead to make an album mix DVD for Steven of my favorite classical music. This was tricky because I don't follow any particular classical canon or critic, but rather rely on recommendations from a few sources, including Alex Ross and the Gramophone, and the hit or miss of borrowing and purchasing at random. As my friends know, I purchase and borrow popular music based on the criticism of Robert Christgau, to the point where its kind of a religious fanaticism. For classical, however, I've had a falling out with Alex Ross (nothing personal), and don't know where else to turn. So I just get whatever, listen to whatever, and try to find my way.

So, here are 22 recordings I adore. I am not an expert by any means, so these are not the "best" of anything except, perhaps, my personal collection. But I love them, and recommend them. Also note that there are very few adventurous recordings here--I'm not sure Steven would be into those. Merry Christmas!

C.P.E. Bach, Symphonies Nos. 1-4 (Andrew Manze)
J.S. Bach, Bach Cantatas (Lorraine Hunt Lieberson)
J.S. Bach, The Goldberg Variations (Glenn Gould/1955)
Béla Bartók, The Piano Concertos (Anda/DG Originals)
L.V. Beethoven, Symphony No. 9 "Choral" (Osmo Vänskä)
David Behrman, On the Other Ocean/Figure in a Clearing (Lovely)
Hector Berlioz, Symphonie Fantastique (John Eliot Gardiner/1991)
Crystal Tears (Andreas Scholl)
Gustav Mahler, Symphony No. 1 (Kubelik/DG Originals)
Gustav Mahler, Symphony No. 6 (Claudio Abbado/2005)
Olivier Messiaen, Quatuor pour la fin du temps (Walter Boeykens)
W.A. Mozart, Clarinet Concerto/Clarinet Quintet (Martin Fröst)
Arvo Pärt, Tabula Rasa (ECM)
Prokofiev/Ravel, Piano Concertos (Argerich/DG Originals)
Terry Riley, In C (Bang on a Can)
Franz Schubert, Goethe Lieder (Fischer-Dieskau/DG Originals)
Franz Schubert, String Quintet D.956 (Alban Berg Quartett)
Robert Schumann, Dichterliebe (Wunderlich/DG Originals)
Jean Sibelius, Symphonies Nos. 4-7 (Karajan/DG Originals)
Song of Songs (Stile Antico)
Igor Stravinsky, Pétrouchka/Le Sacre du printemps (Boulez/Sony)
Toru Takemitsu, Chamber Works (Naxos)

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Where My Veterans At?


Pitchfork published their list of the top 200 albums of the 2000s last week, and the net has a bunch of opinions about the matter, but none as interesting as this one: the lack of veteran performers. As you can see, this link is to a website dedicated to musicians who have performed for 25 or more years. Pitchfork gives up only 4 out of 200 to veterans, and surprisingly does not include either of Bob Dylan's masterpieces of the decade, Modern Times or Love and Theft, or Brian Wilson's Smile. Weird.

Everyone has a list of omissions, and mine includes: the Go-Betweens' The Friends of Rachel Worth and Oceans Apart, Mekons' OOOH! and Jon Langford's All the Fame of Lofty Deeds, Orchestre Baobab's Made in Dakar and Specialist in All Styles, Lou Reed's Ecstasy, Steely Dan's Two Against Nature, Tom Waits's Orphans, Madonna's Music, Tom Ze's Jogos de Armar, Maria Muldaur's Heart of Mine: The Love Songs of Bob Dylan, New York Dolls' One Day It Will Please Us to Remember Even This, Randy Newman's Harps and Angels, Orlando Cachaito Lopez's Cachaito, Marianne Faithfull's new Easy Come Easy Go, and Willie Nelson's new Willie and the Wheel.

Perhaps the most surprising offenses, beyond the above Dylan and Wilson omissions, are the absence of Youssou N'Dour, who released three near-perfect albums over the last 10 years (Nothing's in Vain, Egypt, and Rokku Mi Rokka), and the inclusion of Murray Street by Sonic Youth (their weakest in 25 years?) and the exclusion of two of their finest, NYC Ghosts and Flowers, and Rather Ripped. Of course, there's also the omission of Ornette Coleman's Pulitzer Prize winning Sound Grammar.

That said, Pitchfork's top 50 is pretty good, and though I'd replace most of them with my own favorites (like anyone), I enjoy contemplating their choices. Given their aesthetic, nothing in their top 20 seems ridiculous, which is kind of new for them. But really, people, you didn't hear a better album than Kid A this decade? I'm sorry to hear that. Let me recommend...







Saturday, October 3, 2009

I Heart Weekends


What a week! I made it through hours of grading, reading, and tutoring, so I've taken the last couple days off, more or less. I was pulling 10-12 hours days there for a while, so naturally I got a cold. This is happening more and more it seems. Anyway, sneezing and coughing aside, I've had a good couple days off. After my long haul of classes on Thursday, I watched a couple episodes of Battlestar Gallactica on DVD (I'm up to season 3), then the NBC Parks and Recreation, Office, and Community trifecta.

Am I the only one who loves these shows? Sure, everyone loves the Office, but I need to stand up for Parks and Recreation, and Community. I didn't like Parks and Recreation at first either, but the last episode of the first season pulled me in, and now I'm hooked. Yes, I expect Amy Poehler to be funnier too, but she's up to something with this character: she plays an ambitious woman with a huge heart who doesn't know herself or how the world works, and she ends up looking foolish again and again because she just can't conceive of a world that is inherently hurtful. She believes in perseverance and a fair meritocracy; that if she continues to build this park with good will in her heart, she will one day be president. Rather than laugh at her optimism, though, Poehler's character gets you to believe in a just society and a better tomorrow because to believe in them is essential to living, that we need to believe in these things to stay sane and happy; to remain pure at heart in a maelstrom of modernity. Also, it's still kind of funny. We laugh at these characters make asses of themselves, because at our best--at our most earnest--we make asses of ourselves as well. And we're better people for it. Like Christgau says, we all need a little corn in our lives. It helps you shake some of that cynicism out of your head. Poehler's character does that.

As for Community, well, what can I say? I love college (obviously), and this show sums up that strange emotional and temporal space that is college and the college campus. Bake sales and candlelight vigils for victims of government oppression? Check. Dead Poets Society professor who climbs trees and makes his students stand on their desks to feel liberated? Check. Lonely, socially awkward students looking to redefine themselves within a new social environment and failing miserably? Check. All of these are played for laughs, and yet, like Parks and Recreation, its a heartfelt show: we're not laughing at these characters, we're laughing with them. I also think the dialogue is sharp, and Joel McHale, here and on The Soup, is a treasure.

My Friday was also wonderful: Kit made us soup for dinner, which was great for my cold, and her baby Logan sat in his jumper for the first time. We watched him learn to use his legs to jump for about 20 minutes. It was so beautiful. I can't imagine what it's like for Logan right now, learning so much so fast. Then we sat down to watch Dollhouse, which aired its first bad episode. Good premise, but a bad script led to some bad acting. I guess you can't win all the time.

I also discovered Lala for myself. Lala is basically the best music store on the internet. The MP3s are reasonably priced, and you can listen to entire albums at CD quality before you purchase them. You can also buy "web albums" which are very cheap, but you can only listen to them streaming from the website; you cannot download them. But, you can listen to them from any computer anywhere. And even better, there is a program that matches the music on your hard drive to music on Lala, and let's you listen to that music streaming from their website on any computer. Did you catch that? You can stream your entire collection from Lala for free anywhere! Anything they don't own can be uploaded for free as well. It's really amazing, and very forward thinking. They also have a sale going on now for albums listed in Pitchfork's Top 200 albums of the 2000s. A bunch of them are only $2-3, and many are as low as $6. Brilliant. Here's a sample from Lala: [update: Lala closed. Below is a link to Grooveshark.]

Saturday, August 8, 2009

40 Alternatives to Pitchfork's Top 100 Albums of the 1980s



I love lists. Even lists as strange as Pitchfork’s Top 100 Albums of the 1980s. Like everyone else I know, Pitchfork’s aesthetic agenda rubs me the wrong way. But I find that their rewriting of the '70s, '80s and '90s rock canons does offer readers a good context for their otherwise absurd and contrarian opinions and recommendations; better than any of their reviews, that’s for sure. However, I have to add that I’m not convinced there’s much truth, meaning or even entertainment value in some of the choices that create Pitchfork’s critical context, which is a shame. Isn’t that why we're in this business? So I thought I’d be an ass and put together my own alternative Top 40 Albums of the 1980s NOT listed in Pitchfork's list, in which I offer albums that I believe are far more reliable and meaningful choices than many of the ones compiled by Pitchfork.

I tried for 100, then 50, but 40 hit it just about right. Of course, I would include many of the albums in Pitchfork’s list; who wouldn’t? Who doesn’t love Thriller? Or Trust? Daydream Nation? Sign o’ the Times? So, take some of their list, maybe take some of mine, and you’ll get a pretty good take on the 1980s. As noted above, I can’t recommend some of the Pitchfork choices, but I recommend each of my selections below without reservation. And don’t just take my word for it: all of my choices are cribbed from lists by Spin Magazine, Robert Christgau, Pazz & Jop and various other similar critical institutions on the web.

And now, the rules: As with Pitchfork, I only consider classical and jazz albums with some kind of pop caché, and I include no single-artist compilations, though, for the record, I love compilations. Pitchfork includes Fela Kuti in their ‘70s list, so I figure Afro-pop is fair game. I was going to list my favorites alphabetically (it’s easier for shopping), but listing them in order of preference is really fun to write, and I find, fun to read. So, enjoy! Comments are encouraged.



1. X, Wild Gift (1981)
2. Marshall Crenshaw, Field Day (1983)
3. Bruce Springsteen, Born in the U.S.A. (1984)
4. Robert Cray, Strong Persuader (1986)
5. Franco & Rochereau, Omona Wapi (1983)
6. Lucinda Williams, Lucinda Williams (1988)
7. Marshall Crenshaw, Marshall Crenshaw (1982)
8. James Blood Ulmer, Odyssey (1983)
9. DeBarge, In a Special Way (1983)
10. Bruce Springsteen, Tunnel of Love (1987)

11. Los Lobos, How Will the Wolf Survive? (1984)
12. Lou Reed, The Blue Mask (1982)
13. The Indestructible Beat of Soweto (1986)
14. George Clinton, Computer Games (1982)
15. New Order, Brotherhood (1986)
16. The Blasters, Non Fiction (1983)
17. John Lennon & Yoko Ono, Double Fantasy (1980)
18. Professor Longhair, Crawfish Fiesta (1980)
19. Cyndi Lauper, She’s So Unusual (1983)
20. Lou Reed, Legendary Hearts (1983)



21. Flipper, Album—Generic Flipper (1982)
22. Lou Reed, New Sensations (1984)
23. Ornette Coleman, Of Human Feelings (1982)
24. Sonny Sharrock, Guitar (1986)
25. Richard & Linda Thompson, Shoot Out the Lights (1982)
26. Laurie Anderson, United States Live (1984)
27. The Blasters, Hard Line (1985)
28. Remmy Ongala, Songs for the Poor Man (1989)
29. Chic, Real People (1980)
30. Go-Betweens, Tallulah (1987)

31. Papa Wemba, L’Esclave (1988)
32. Ornette Coleman, Virgin Beauty (1988)
33. Alberta Hunter, Amtrak Blues (1980)
34. Neil Young, Freedom (1989)
35. King Sunny Ade, Aura (1984)
36. Aretha Franklin, Who’s Zoomin’ Who? (1985)
37. Hüsker Dü, Candy Apple Grey (1986)
38. Psychedelic Furs, Talk Talk Talk (1981)
39. Donald Fagen, The Nightfly (1982)
40. Angry Samoans, Back from Samoa (1982)

Friday, June 26, 2009

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.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

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!

Monday, January 12, 2009

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!

Friday, January 9, 2009

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?

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

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.