a new low in topical enlightenment

Showing posts with label europe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label europe. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Issue #67 (October 13, 2010)

Naperville Quarrypond, Illinois

Photo by Joe Carducci




















Arrivederci, Romas . . .
By Carolyn Heinze




So perhaps you already know that back on July 31st Sarko gave this sensationally stirring, or at least stirred-up speech about l’immigration and how, for years, for decades even, it has contributed to la déliquance. (He didn’t actually delineate the decades, because you start counting backward here in France and you back right into the Nazis telling the Vichy collaborationist government to cool it with shipping out so many Jews.) And maybe you’ve already heard how during the entirety of August, right when all good upstanding French citizens – especially the good upstanding journalists, most of whom do most of whatever they do while sitting down – all go to the Southeast or the Southwest or the deep, direct good upstanding South to tan their questionably good upstanding French hides while laying down — well, Sarkozy started deporting les gens du voyage, the gypsies, the Romas. Booted ’em out as fast as his elevator heels would allow.

And you probably already know that he based this smooth move on verifiable, veritable solid statistics and stats centering on and sifting through and surrounding crimes by race. As in which members of which races commit which crimes, and how many of them they commit. Based on race. Over decades and even years. There was the small matter that the statistics and stats focused on Romanians only; made no difference that Romas aren’t all necessarily Romanian, either. That’s the kind of thing we count on our upstanding journalists to discover.

Of course, it was kind of funny when it came to light that the name ‘Sarkozy’ traces directly back to races with Roma roots, but as a highlight it was only in passing. Because it’s a questionably legal practice, largely frowned upon, this practice of basing stats and statistics on race, especially here in France, especially since France is part of L’Europe. (I won’t get into the nitty-gritty-semantically-hairsplitting details . . . they’re boring and kind of beside the point. Plus, you’d have to look back a few decades to see why Europeans might be a little skittish about racial profiling.) But Sarkozy did it anyway. Because he could. And because his street gang – I mean, his government – encouraged him to. And when you think about it, it’s all kinda, well, normale.

This is a country where the first black TV anchorman made his first appearance for the first time on the top network in prime-time only four years ago. (It caused quite a stir.) (At first.) (There were phone calls all around.) (Well, among my girlfriends at least.) (Mainly-mostly because he’s hot.) There was a token woman of token Arabian descent (some people think she’s hot, too) in the Sarkozy government for a while as well, but the gesture of appointing her was really just a token since she got shipped off to the European parliament pretty damn quick, to get her out of the way. There’s still a token woman of African descent (definitely hot) working in the sports ministry (they bumped her over there after a stint attending to human rights), but they’re having a hard time figuring out what to do with her because she has the irksome habit of speaking her mind. About sports and human rights. It’s more than a token problem.

France has a tradition of tokens, and token gestures, so the whole Roma thing is no more than a token surprise. Nor is Sarko necessarily racist – depending on your definition of it, of course – nor does he necessarily even give the topic of racism more than a mere token thought. What he’s more interested in is keeping his tiny French derrière in the biggest French chair in the biggest French office. What this is really about is the 2012 elections, and teasing and appeasing the extreme right, le Front National, the FN. You know, the party that made it to the second round of voting back in 2002 until everyone panicked and woke up and showed up (late) to grudgingly re-elect Chirac? The one that until recently was headed-up and run by the slogan-spewing “La France pour les français, and oh, by the way, the Holocaust was just a minor detail in history” Jean-Marie Le Pen? (The FN is now run and headed-up by Marine, his horse-headed daughter, who sounds and looks and acts like the kind of woman that would crack you over the head with a beer bottle for inadvertently making eye contact with her boyfriend in a bar.) Sarko’s right-of-center UMP ( Union pour un mouvement populaire) lost the last legislative elections to the left because the right-wing vote was too divided (this is a perpetual problem for les politiciens…France being a primary producer of wine, cheese, and a plethora of political parties, after all). Since then, as is so often the case, the left wing has done little save fight with itself, while the right restrategizes and reorganizes and regroups. Extreme right politics being très à la mode in Europe, extreme right voters are the proverbial easy target. And the targeting of the Romas? It’s a token-albeit-targeted gesture, as far as targeted token gestures go. Fish in a barrel? Sitting ducks? Gypsies round the campfire?




















The Tea Party vs. The Metagaming of the System
By Joe Carducci




The best thing about the Tea Party is that its so stealthy as it makes headlines. No-one knows who they are or what they want. The experts seem so invested in this rolling consensus of theirs/ours, the one that has it that we are behind Europe in social development and that history moves in one direction toward, I suppose, Sweden pre-1989. (It went socialist like everywhere west of Kiev in 1932 but its knees buckled when the USSR collapsed and the Social Democrats lost power in 1991, they shifted into reverse, devolved, stopped drinking the Kool-aid.)

You might expect a Brit to pocket the tribute the American elite pays the old world as Gideon Rachman does in the Financial Times this week, but he really mightn’t oughtn’t phrase it so: “The Tea Party movement that is stirring up US politics means different things to different people… To many foreigners and American liberals, the Tea Party does indeed seem like a crazy mix of wild conspiracy theories… and impractical nostalgia for an era of distant and minimal government.” To “Foreigners and American liberals” says a lot right there methinks, wot?

It's something of a hangover of the postwar civil rights era. All kinds of scoundrels run to steal fire from the civil rights struggle including the entire baby boomer superstructure; they somehow remember their interest in hearing the Temptations do “Cloud Nine” on ‘The Ed Sullivan Show’ as them risking their just-healed fontanelles to Bull Connor’s billy-club. Blacks freed themselves in postwar America with some help from church-men and -women, not student radicals or hippies. All that smoking violence was America learning things. Even then that all was nothing compared to the violence in Europe just ended. We’re seeing now what was learned there for all that. But as the old world considers itself advanced they relished the American street-fighting and took it to mean what they enjoyed believing: Americans may be rich but they are like animals.

The real story in Europe is that they still cannot quite get along with their neighbors never mind immigrants from elsewhere. Lately in the news, some Muslim jihadis captured in Afghanistan are being referred to simply as “Germans” -- doesn’t really work does it? Europe, even roped-together in the EU, is still a collection of discrete race-nations in a way America is not. Perhaps we’re going to find out whether they can break that impulse and each-and-in-total become bastard-breed loose stock like us. Their history argues not, and respectable opinion o’er there seem to approach those who have decided they do not have it in them to be as Americans, as if indeed they were Tea Party manque.

Here, though, among English-speaking ex-colonials and the many Others, race is more like a golden oldie, hummed enthusiastically by Taylor Caldwell or Howell Raines to rescue some part of their family, or the south, or their own white-ass from some judgment day of their imagining -- maybe before the ICC in The Hague. The “idea” that the Tea Party is racist or racially-formed is a convenient conceit of those barricaded inside the public power structure, near the top of the public’s hierarchy of servants, yet still believing themselves to be committing blows against someone else’s empire. I’ve written before about this Brave New Class; Vaclav Havel has written about young American Academicians who toured the East Bloc, commiserating with political prisoners and dissidents, comparing their own American lives in the belly of the beast, with theirs in the prison nations‘ prisons. These tourists’ assumptions being something along the lines that Havel’s situation under the boot of Communism was caused by American resistance to said ineluctable future.

Everything else Marx tried to achieve failed; Socialism was too much the product of the Romantic era to ever be grounded in even a science as wobbly as economics. But the new class loved his idea of the march of time, one-way history, the inevitability of the triumph of socialism. They were never too sure about the withering away of the state but trusted that might be well after their rule. All this pertains, even as the principle metaphor of our age has been built out of the old one-way AT&T-Ma Bell, pay-the-bill or be ex-communicated phone system. Everything now is an always-on local call between one and as many others anywhere as any one likes. And Sweden was taking cues from a society that licensed typewriters.

In truth some of that is pure etiquette, a kind of misdirection play whereby this meritocratic elite assumes egalitarian coloration when outside the family -- probably something like an old Soviet academician might have pulled as he bowed and scraped before ex-peasant commissars. But who are these Tea Partyers?! That they do not know. Further they do not want to know because rather than signaling the formation of the long-rumored third party of some elitist’s dreams, they signal an attempt to pull the Republican Party back from its participation in this march of history. Sean Wilentz, fresh from Dylanizing like a foreigner or a Democrat, roots around Glen Beck’s bookshelf in The New Yorker this week and then goes off on a wild goose chase through John Birch Society history as if that’s relevant. Along the way Wilentz absolves not just Teddy Roosevelt and Woodrow Wilson but also Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan and George W. Bush of any taints of extremisms anyone might want to make, all in the exercise of demonstrating to the readers of the NYer that they needn’t check into any of this revisionism. Go back to sleep, fair liberal and foreigner.

In fact I’d suggest perhaps keeping one’s eye off the ball for a bit in the next few months to see what the Libertarian Party makes of winning an argument in the down-and-dirty of real-existing-democracy. In some ways it’s the Democratic Party that has won a number of these discrete arguments but they and their partisans in the news media wouldn’t quite know what face to make if they thought they won an argument, and its all about the reaction-shot. They prefer to act as if they won in the face of withering racist reactionary resistance, as in pulling off an in-your-face victory -- so satisfying, so self-defeating in the long run, this cult of the progressive outrider misunderstood in his own time and country and media.

Matt Bai in The New York Times posits that the larger and larger independent voter is simply swinging back and forth against the sitting Party. This may be the third unseating in a row of the President’s Party two years into a first term, which Bai writes, is “a sequence that has never happened before in the country’s tumultuous political history. This suggests that however much the issues of the moment may seem to be defining these elections, there are some deeper forces at work, too.” Deeper, meaning shallower -- nothing to do with taking another look at the beginnings of the welfare state under the Roosevelts or Wilson, despite its sustainability being under sustained attack from inside -- the claimants, the rent-seekers, litigants, pensioners, all of those and us who want the state to invest in us or pay us off, and from fascist math itself simply refusing to add up or multiply the bread.

Alan Brinkley in the NYT Book Review goes at some of the new books seeking to maintain the Tea Party’s stealth-shield, and again there seems to be an ideo-historical backstop at the size of government now -- this is simply the ground zero for next year’s enlarged and improved government; it fails more so it grows more to do a better job failing. Brinkley assures us all that “The reality of the creation of the Constitution is a far cry from the idea that it instituted immutable limits to what government could do.” He the Historian at Columbia then dismisses stated concerns since they just showed up. He the Historian ought to understand that things move first through this or that attempt at doing, or this or that witnessing attempts of others. Learning occurs and some may continue defending Jimmy Carter or Woodrow Wilson but the non-Historian electorate is fine with dropping Hoover, Nixon, or Bush. And if you can only do one thing you’ll only get one term. Brinkley fancies himself as part of this new meritocratic royalty; naturally it resists this American constitution which was put it in place to halt every first impulse of such royal prerogative.

It seems to me that the Tea Party has committed to the Republican Party, but only if they can rehab it now. Otherwise they’d have filed to run as third parties; instead it is sitting Republicans beaten in their own primaries that are left to run as independents. The Tea Partyers want the Republican Party to stop competing with the Democratic Party on spending, to stop gaming the system to win elections. Such promises of spending are the sales-pitch of the Democrats since Wilson and only their own conflicted foreignized souls and Americans’ sense that the economy is more than a cookie-jar for the state kept Republicans in the game, for they could never outbid the Dems; perhaps only Nixon and DeLay ever even tried. But the competition for ministering to voters through spending devolved into an overarching strategic game of locking federal spending into endless out-years of commitments of future revenues to favored expenditures -- social spending for Dems vs. military spending for Repubs. This metagaming of the system was the stealth final straw. Those invested in it can not look up to see it, they might lose an edge and a long night of fascism or communism, national socialism or international socialism commence.

David Brooks asks a good question, “Why are important projects now unaffordable?” Assuming agreement on what is important, “Many of us would be happy to live with a bigger version of 1950s government: one that ran surpluses and was dexterous enough to tackle long-term problems as they arose. But we don’t have that government. We have an immobile government that is desperately overcommitted in all the wrong ways.” But what is the failure, guns or butter? The Tea Party is saying both. They have changed their mind on what they call the Neo-con War on Terror but the left won’t accept this as their victory; they keep seeing gun-nuts in the woods or the desert. On this and other issues, they just prefer to fight a class war.

Only the most unexpected angles allows the kind of straights who write for major metropolitan dailies to offer a fresh insight into an outgroup. Lee Siegel, also in the NYTBR contrives somehow for whatever reason to compare the Tea Party to the Beats. It’s the recent film, Howl (2010), that triggers it, and especially the filmmakers’ Hollywood-like impositions on what is known to be true about this formerly underground subject:

“Hollywood loves self-righteously to portray now-unchallenged liberal causes under siege, even though in this case the cause of free speech was vindicated when the presiding judge ruled that ‘Howl’ [the poem] was a work of ‘redeeming social importance’ and that Ferlinghetti [the publisher] was innocent. What the movie should have spun out into its own subplot was the fact — never mentioned in the film — that the judge, W. J. Clayton Horn, was a conservative jurist locally renowned for his Sunday-school Bible classes. Horn might well have been as much an outsider in San Francisco’s sophisticated social circles as Ferlinghetti and Ginsberg were in the eyes of the law. It takes an outsider to know an outsider.

Or perhaps Horn had a glimpse of the future. The eventual assimilation of Beat hedonism ensured that by the end of the millennium, white middle-class Christians like him would themselves be marginalized — at least by the dominant culture — as the ‘silent majority.’ …When the Tea Party came along, however, the silent majority started to get its voice back. Liberals could well be drawn nostalgically to the Beats nowadays because all the countercultural energy belongs to the other side. ‘When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?’ Ginsberg asked his fellow Americans in his poem ‘America.’ The Tea Party has an answer to that rhetorical question….

Then again, the Beats were as much at odds with the liberals of their time as the Tea Partiers are with the liberals of today. The same liberal air of elite-seeming abstraction that provokes the Tea Partiers drove the Beats around the bend. For the Beats, liberals were part of the power structure: they spoke loftily about conscience and social obligation yet lived comfortably within the plush boundaries of universities, law firms and financial institutions. Worst of all, they accepted the government’s role in organizing their lives.”


Not bad for something in the NYT in an election year where so much is at stake again...

In the end the thinnest strand of bohemian conservatism is sustained by the individual points at which some few culturati come to understand that they love American culture for its peculiarly but duly constituted Author. And so they depart the rush to Europeanize them both. As for all this fear alleged, only two years ago the “coup” was on the other foot, and America was to be taken back or else a move to Europe. Unfortunately for them they won and stayed.



















Anthus Cervinus, by James Fotopoulos


















From the Midwest Desk of Joe Carducci…


Peter Wood at chronicle.com, "From Diversity to Sustainability: How Campus Ideology Is Born".

“Diversity and sustainability are the two most characteristic ideas of the modern academy. Diversity asks us to focus on group identity and personal affiliation, and it puts race at the center of the discussion. Sustainability asks us to focus on humanity's use of natural resources, and it puts climate at the center of discussion. Outwardly, diversity and sustainability belong to separate narratives. They deal with different topics and might, in principle, have no more friction between them than typically exists between English departments and physics labs. Or between polar bears and tropical fish. But in fact, diversity and sustainability have a complicated, decades-old rivalry.”



***


James Kirchick in the WSJ, "Europe the Intolerant."

“‘The dark night of fascism is always descending in the United States and yet lands only in Europe.’ So said Tom Wolfe in 1965, and so it is today. Various commentators have argued recently that opposition by many Americans to a proposed Islamic center two blocks from the ruins of the World Trade Center represents deep-seated religious bigotry and paranoia. But if any place is plagued by increasing bigotry, it's not America but Europe, the continent whose welfare states and pacifism are so admired by American liberals.”



***


Phillip Longman at bigquestionsonline.com, "Demography and Economic Destiny".

“One day in 1999, I went to visit the billionaire financier Peter G. Peterson in his office high above Park Avenue. In those days, Peterson surveyed a city booming with leveraged deals and paper profits that hourly added to his wealth. Yet he was worried about the future. He warned of a world going gray and predicted that the aging population of the industrial world, particularly in Europe, would tank the era of prosperity then being called ‘the long boom.’

As I quoted him back then in a cover story for U.S. News and World Report: ‘The scenario I see is that one or more developed countries . . . is going to decide that the political cost of reforming their pension systems is just too high.’ When that happens, Peterson continued, ‘they will try running high deficits — much higher than the limits set by the European Union’s monetary authorities — in an attempt to finance their way out of the problem. When the financial markets wake up to this news, there will be a broad realization that we have a global aging crisis that is going to be unrelenting in its economic consequences.’

At first, the global recession that began in 2008 seemed to have nothing to do with changing demographics. Economists and politicians pointed instead to the excesses of unregulated capitalism. Many thought that the prophesied demographic-driven entitlements crisis was still years away. But today it is becoming more apparent that Peterson was right: Europe’s demographic problems are not only forcing startling cutbacks in the welfare state but also are damaging the Continent’s prospects for sustained growth and economic recovery. Worse, Europe's today is the rest of the world's tomorrow.”



***


Gene Epstein in Barron’s, "Job Losses: No Private Affair."

“The long-term trends tell the real story. The number of private-sector nonfarm payroll jobs in September totaled 107.97 million. Despite recent gains, the total is still down 7.6 million from its December 2007 peak, a decline of 6.6%….

Nothing so devastating has occurred on the government level. Since December '07, federal employment as of September 2010 is up about 3.2%. The decline in state employment has been relatively small—a loss of 63,000 jobs since the August 2008 peak, or 1.2%. Only local government, by far the largest public-sector employer, has felt a real pinch. At 14.25 million jobs in September, local government's overall loss has run about 350,000 since its August '08 peak, a fall of 2.4%, with a little over half the decline accounted for by school employment.”



***


Thomas Donlan in Barron’s, "More Trillions Owed."

“About 84% of state and local government employees are covered by defined-benefit pension plans—the traditional pensions in which all the promised benefits are supposed to be funded in advance in a trust. Private industry and even the federal government realized decades ago that they were unwilling and unable to assume such open-ended responsibility. A series of private pension-plan disasters—in mining, metals and manufacturing--underscored the danger. Now about 17% of private-sector workers are in defined-benefit plans, down from 41% in 1980.

State and local governments have tried to evade their responsibilities without ending their dangerous defined-benefit plans. At the latest count, 47 states were saving less than they should for their workers.”



***


Leigh Phillips at euobserver.com, Israel: ‘Fix Kosovo first before telling us what to do’.

“‘Solve your own problems in Europe before you come to us with complaints. Maybe then I will be open to accepting your suggestions,’ he told France's Bernard Kouchner and Spain's Miguel Angel Moratinos at a dinner on Sunday evening (10 October) in Jerusalem. Mr Lieberman said that after Europe had solved conflicts in the Caucasus as well as the ongoing disputes over Cyprus and Kosovo, then the Jewish state ‘will listen to your advice.’”



***


Edward Wong in the NYT, "Chinese Civilian Boats Roil Disputed Waters."

“The Chinese Navy could not be reached for comment.”



***


Lawrence Lessig in The New Republic, "Sorkin vs. Suckerberg."

“You will see this movie, and you should. As a film, visually and rhythmically, and as a story, dramatically, the work earns its place in the history of the field. But as a story about Facebook, it is deeply, deeply flawed. As I watched the film, and considered what it missed, it struck me that there was more than a hint of self-congratulatory contempt in the motives behind how this story was told. Imagine a jester from King George III’s court, charged in 1790 with writing a comedy about the new American Republic. That comedy would show the new Republic through the eyes of the old.…

In Sorkin’s world—which is to say Hollywood, where lawyers attempt to control every last scrap of culture—this framing [between lawsuits] makes sense. But as I watched this film, as a law professor, and someone who has tried as best I can to understand the new world now living in Silicon Valley, the only people that I felt embarrassed for were the lawyers. The total and absolute absurdity of the world where the engines of a federal lawsuit get cranked up to adjudicate the hurt feelings (because “our idea was stolen!”) of entitled Harvard undergraduates is completely missed by Sorkin…. Did Zuckerberg breach his contract? Maybe, for which the damages are more like $650, not $65 million. Did he steal a trade secret? Absolutely not. Did he steal any other “property”? Absolutely not—the code for Facebook was his, and the “idea” of a social network is not a patent. It wasn’t justice that gave the twins $65 million; it was the fear of a random and inefficient system of law. That system is a tax on innovation and creativity. That tax is the real villain here, not the innovator it burdened.

The case for Zuckerberg’s former partner is stronger, and more sensible and sad. But here again, the villains are not even named. Sorkin makes the autodidact Sean Parker, co-founder of Napster, the evil one. (No copyright-industry bad blood there.) I know Parker. This is not him.”


Jim Fusilli in the WSJ, "Scoring ‘The Social Network’".

“Still, for all the score's icy abrasiveness and reflected aggression, the repeated piano motif suggests a trace of sympathy for Mark. ‘I don't know the real Mark Zuckerberg,’ Mr. Reznor said, ‘but I understand that character. The act of creation at any cost, I can relate to. The pursuit of my vision of Nine Inch Nails caused betrayals and cost me friendships. But the goal was No. 1. Now as an adult I think I would've done those things differently.’”



***


Holland Cotter in the NYT, "When the Artists Voted For the Politics of Order".

“Not all artists were so clear in their loyalties. Giorgio de Chirico was hard to pin down. His 1920s paintings of Roman gladiators, with bodies like kneaded dough, are so bizarre that it’s hard to imagine anyone taking them seriously. In tone they’re just a step away from the distinctly mocking, anti-fascist work of the German Dada artist Hannah Hoch, who, in a 1925 painting called ‘Roma,’ gives the macho Mussolini the petite body of a female swimmer.

In Germany the time would soon come to an end when a painting like Hoch’s could be safely made. But during the postwar Weimar era, artists still had options. The same year Hoch painted ‘Roma’ the art critic Gustav Hartlaub published an authoritative list dividing German modernists into two opposing, evenly populated categories: right-winger classicists and left-winger realists. Within a few years such distinctions would be meaningless. They meant less than nothing to a new man in power, Hitler, who hated modernism, period.”



***


Peter Aspden in the FT adds another two-cents worth of Dylan-worship to the dying recycling whirligig of newsprint, touting the Man’s killing of the pop song. He’s referencing the Witmark demos which got Dylan a publishing deal, though he quotes Dylan to the effect that he put an end to Tin Pan Alley. “Pop song”, “Tin Pan Alley”, these aren’t the same thing. And Aspden seems to act as if TPA depended on the LP, and if a Dylan could write his own songs by the album-full all the songwriters and song publishers were doomed. The LP was too new as a significant part of the record business in the early 60s for that to be true. It was still a singles market back then and the songwriting credit and the B-side was the primary grease for the system. A disc-jockey or singer could get a credit and thus a piece of the hit’s publishing monies when their involvement could be expected to cause it to be a hit. And a label could do a favor for or repay one to publisher, writer and artist by choosing to record some lesser tune for the B-side of a single. It too might sell a million, carried by the A-side.

Dylan didn’t kill that, though rock and roll, black and white, did make it look pretty square. When ASCAP tried to double its royalty rates collected from radio, that industry formed BMI and started contracting blues and country songs. When ASCAP pulled its music off of radio in 1941 the sounds of rural America finally got into the air to fill the void of live dance orchestras playing the finest compositions of Tin Pan Alley. Very stupid of ASCAP, but that didn’t kill TPA or the pop song or the fake songwriting credit either.

On April Fools Day in 1986 ASCAP awarded Bob Dylan a Lifetime Achievement Award. They didn’t think he killed TPA either. Dylan in all the fake humility he could cough up said, “We never claimed to be as good as Johnny Mercer.” Yeah… Okay.

In any case BMI’s big switcheroo in 1941 lit a fire under Nashville, Tennessee as we all know. Before that the WLS Barn Dance was a bigger deal than the Grand Ole Opry, and Jimmie Rodgers and Gene Autry recorded for New York labels. But after that Nashville has been like a purified folk version of Tin Pan Alley. Dylan knows that; he's been there.


***


Dave Hoekstra in the CST, "Carl Bonafede".

“During the late 1950s, Bonafede promoted rock ’n’ roll while driving around the North Side in a 1955 Oldsmobile ’88 with red fenders and a white top. ‘I put sound columns on top of the car roof,’ he chirps while standing between an aisle of vinyl. ‘They used that in the Blues Brothers. I had posters on my car. WJJD was the only rock ’n’ roll station in 1955. I went to Lane Tech, Von Steuben high schools, gave out free records from the distributors on South Michigan Avenue and advertised my dances. I had a midget with me. His name was Cesar and he had a parrot that spoke fluent Italian. Cesar was a sword swallower and fire eater. I found him working at a car wash. I’d put a throw rug on top of my hood and Cesar would climb up and perform between the sound columns. All the teachers at Lane Tech wondered, ‘Who is this guy and why is he giving out all this free music?’ Back in those days, there were no noise ordinances. There weren’t policemen at the schools.’

Legendary WLS-FM personality Dick Biondi says, ‘Carl is an extremely colorful guy. He was always promoting. If he wanted to get a record played, he would bend your ear until you either gave in or called the cops.’”



***


Obituaries of the Week.

•Solomon Burke, Chicago Sun-Times (1940 - 2010)

“During the 1960s and '70s Mr. Burke never performed without a cape and a crown. This bothered James Brown, the Godfather of Soul. ‘I was booked for a concert with James in Chicago,’ Mr. Burke told me during a three-hour dinner in 1988 at a Chinese restaurant in Los Angeles. ‘'Got To Get You Off of My Mind' was out. People were yelling for Solomon Burke, and James said, 'I'll teach you who's the king.' It came time for me to go on and the guys told me to stand at the stage. I was all ready in the crown and robe, and I heard, 'Now, here's the man you've all been waiting for.' I thought, 'Really nice. They're giving me a nice buildup.' 'The man who's had such hits as ...' and I thought he was going to say 'Cry to Me' but he goes, ' "Please, Please, Please" ... Mr. James Brown!' And Mr. Brown walks out and says, 'I'm James Brown, I'm the king.' He looks to me and says, 'I'm paying you, so you can give me that crown and robe.' I put the robe on him onstage. If he wanted to be king, he could be king. It was a great gig. I made five grand.’

In recent years Mr. Burke appeared in concert on a throne due to his regal image and health problems. He also liked to use a church pulpit while recording in the studio.”



•William Barry Sr. (1920 - 2010)

“When Mr. Barry’s group caught word of nearby theaters looking to get rid of their organs, CATOE reached out and tried to help find the instruments a new home. Such was the case when Mr. Barry was part of a team that moved a pipe organ from the Ohio Theatre in Lima, Ohio, to the auditorium in Downers Grove North High School in the late 1960s….


Mr. Barry also helped restore and maintain organs at the Tivoli Theatre in Downers Grove, the Arcada Theatre in St. Charles and the Pickwick Theatre in Park Ridge. He even bought a pipe organ from the Kenosha Theatre in Wisconsin and installed it in his basement over the course of 10 years, according to Prezell….


Mr. Barry explained the fascination with theater pipe organs in a film CATOE made in the early 1970s about the organ at Downers Grove North. ‘Each individual has his own reasons, however, for the most part the reason is probably nostalgic. To some the organ represents a tie to the era of the silent film, the atmosphere and fantasy of the movie palace,’ he said in the film, which is on YouTube. ‘Members want to preserve the excitement they feel when they hear the sounds of the theater pipe organ so that others may experience it also.’”




















Naperville Riverwalk, Illinois

Photo by Joe Carducci























To receive a weekly update notice for the NV, send an email to newvulgate[at]sbcglobal.net with SUBSCRIBE in the subject line. To stop receiving notices, do the same with the word UNSUBSCRIBE.

• The New Vulgate
• Joe Carducci, Chris Collins, James Fotopoulos, Mike Vann Gray, David Lightbourne
• Copyright retained by the writer, artist, or photographer

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Issue #47 (May 26, 2010)


Sunrise in San Pedro


Photo by Mike Watt


















Eyes Squeezed Shut
(Or, You Could Go Blind! Or Fat!)
(Or, Frenchmen Do Get Fat!)


By Carolyn Heinze









I can see why they didn’t put the Gérard Depardieu masturbating scene in the trailer. It wouldn’t make for good box office results. O.K. sure all right fine, if it had been Gérard Depardieu masturbating back in the Seventies it would have been an entirely different story. Back in the Seventies, Gérard Depardieu was kinda hot. But Mammuth came out just a couple of weeks ago, so in this film he’s all modern and masturbatory and present tense and present time and present decade and present day. And not to be shallow, but when you see Gérard in the flesh? In that full-fledged full-frontal fleshy façon ? Well not to be shallow or anything, but he’s gotten kind of . . . fleshy. (And get your minds out of the gutter — geez! — I’m not talking about that.) Actually, not to be to shallow or anything, but he’s...well he’s actually gotten kind of fat. Less in that jolly “ho-ho-ho” kind of way and more in that “wheeze-hack-wheeze-will-he-make-it-to-the, uh, climax” kind of way. So you can see where I’m, er, coming from.

D’abord : Some clarification, some precision, some facts, in the interest of actual accuracy for accuracy’s actual sake. In all actuality, in that (anti) climactic scene Gérard Depardieu is not actually technically masturbating. This is le show beez after all — there’s another droopy old fat-guy actor doing it for him. And technically, in all actuality, in the full-fledged-fleshy-full-frontal sense, you don’t see everything, tous, la totale totally fully up-front. But suggestion is worth a thousand unwelcome images as I like to say, and in Mammuth’s mammoth masturbation montage, you kinda — don’t look! — see enough. Or you kinda sit back, right there in the dark, and you close your eyes, or more like squeeze them tightly shut, so tightly shut that you kinda smudge and smear and stream your salon-issue swag mascara that you filched off a friend who works in such fields, and you sit back, voluntarily voraciously vision-impaired, hopefully not thinking of England and hopefully-definitely not thinking of the Queen, but hoping, with hope-inspired hope, with hope for hope’s sake, for it all to be hopefully over and wistfully, wantingly, wishfully, willfully thinking about Something Else. Like Gérard Depardieu’s career.

And here’s what you conclude: For a big-name, big-deal, big, publicly-personally in-real-life straight, once-married and many times heterosexually-involved high-priced A-list leading man, Gérard Depardieu’s not afraid to get it on with guys. Not on screen at least. And this wasn’t just at the beginning of his career when he was paying his dues and getting paid less, but in the middle of his career and now, too. You know how with some Hollywood actors, some sexily sexed-up sexy leading men, how they wear well-cut clothes so there’s rumors about them being gay and so they have to take parts that are all butchy and burly and macho and manly just to keep their rates up? Gérard Depardieu doesn’t seem too concerned with that. Nope, là-dessus, Gérard Depardieu ne me semble pas très inquiet. And he shouldn’t be worried: Word has it that he averages about 800.000 euros (the euro being what it is — or increasingly isn’t — that’s roughly $993,000 U.S.) per film, and in France that’s not change for chumps. And while admittedly, one must admit, that he hasn’t always made genius choices when it comes to scripts, Gérard Depardieu has made some kick-ass films. Especially the ones where he’s getting it on with guys. (What? You’re wondering why I didn’t make an ass-joke? Minds out of the gutter, puh-leez!)

Like remember Les Valseuses . . . “The Waltz-ers” directly but “Going Places” en américain ? You know, the film he always seemingly unconsciously refers to in interviews, as if he seemingly knowingly unconsciously knows that he and Bertrand Blier and Patrick Delwaere and Miou-Miou were onto something? Something Big? Something big and creative and artistic and innovative resulting out of them just freely fucking around? You’ve seen it, right? Right?? You probably have, with Depardieu being the single-most famous French actor on the other side of the Big Pond and all. I’m sure it played, like, everywhere. But if you haven’t then go out and get it, and if you don’t speak French make sure it’s with sub-titles and everything. I’m sure you’ll find it – how could you not? Because it’s goood, so good, so great, so gigantic that in my dictatorship, if I was a dictator, one would call it a chef-d’oeuvre and nothing else. This is the kind of film that other directors should wish they had made, the kind of dialogue that other writers should wish they had written. And that scene when Depardieu tricks Delwaere into sleeping with him? (Depardieu more or less actually rapes him, actually, but less in that Deliverance kind of way and more in that post-Nouvelle vague French cinema kind of way. . .) Well just quit shifting and squirming and bleating and squealing because that scene’s so damn-near perfect it’s an unconscionable understatement to call it merely “good.”

And then there’s Tenue de Soirée, also by Blier, starring Michel Blanc and Miou-Miou and of course, Depardieu . . . And he’s such a natural, such a pro, such a ham without being a ham (he’s still sorta svelte after all) . . . and you feel like you’re watching someone who’s understood, in the best and purest of ways, what he’s meant to do. Of course he gets it on with Blanc, and that’s kinda the point, but it’s kinda beside the point, too. I can’t remember who he gets it on with in Buffet Froid, or if he even does, but he plays a helluva charming killer in a helluva suitable setting: The bleak-blah-bland borderline-Paris business district of La Défense. Back when it was still being built. (Remember that first scene, where he kills the guy in the RER station? It...well it kinda killed, non?) It’s another one of Blier’s cult creations, in which his dad, Bernard, stars too. (You remember – he plays the police inspector who turns a blind eye to Depardieu’s murderous ways.) That film was sooo good, so clever, so creative, so classy that when French audiences first saw it they were so shocked that when the screenings were over a number of indignant viewers stomped back to the box office to demand their money back. Talk about being on to something! Right on!!

So what happened? Why, in so many of his more recent films does it feel like Gérard Depardieu is just putting in time? Arguably his period with Blier – during which he confessed going into it in the spirit of making movies, and going through it breathing and bothering with and living for Blier – was kind of like a college football star’s glory years, a glowy-glorious-gloriful gad-about an art form that seemed to be headed so far beyond where it actually ended up. Oh sure, he’s still a pro now, and a natural and a ham, too, with the more sophisticated hammish savoir-faire of an artist who’s refined his chops, who’s evolved and developed and matured. He’s the ideal unassuming husband to Fanny Ardant’s sultry-but-insecure wife in the typically French love story à trois that serves as the basis of Nathalie. And he does what it takes for Chabrol in Bellamy, the first time he actually worked with the much-loved, much-revered, much-adored adorable old Uncle Claude. You can’t accuse Depardieu of not delivering what’s called for, or for not simply doing his job; he shows up and jumps in, pulls it all together and gets it done. But you also feel a little sad, a little wistful, a little nostalgic all the same. A few years ago he announced his retirement — said he had made enough films. It was time to pay more attention to his wine châteaux, to be a man of the terroir, to fill his fingernails with dirt, to get back down to earth. No one believed him, of course, least of all himself, and he still shows up on the big screen, more often, so much more often than from time to time. It’s different, though, and he’s different, too – not ‘off’ but off all the same. Like something’s shut him down . . . turned around what used to turn him on.

“That’s the danger of cinema or of what television has shown us. The danger of uselessness, or of information. Now we know everything, but it serves nothing,” Depardieu recently lamented to Premiere. On the same Mammuth media push, he vented to VSD: “We live in a world where there are no more mysteries, where everything is clear. . . What impresses me about cinema is sometimes what bothers me. . .”

You can see why he took the role in Mammuth, a sort of road-trip movie by a sort-of similar-but-French version of the formidable frères Coen. We can beat up on Benoît Delépine and Gustave Kervern for making us watch Gérard beating off, but we sure can’t accuse them of indulging in inexcusably indulgent intellectual masturbation. Or of showing and telling too much – except for that part about, well, you know – when all we needed was a peek. On the surface this is a French story, a real French one, one that’s identifiable to any Frenchman or Frenchwoman who has ever battled their country’s Kafka-esque administration and lost . . . And they all have, and they all do. I could go into detailed descriptions of what Mammuth’s all about, recount how Depardieu’s blue-collar character is forced to embark on a fool’s errand to round up a few lost fiches de paye (that’s ‘pay stubs’) so he can collect on his retirement. I could rant about how ridiculous this exercise is, in and of itself, and how, yes, oui, mais bien sûr !, all French workers are expected to keep these documents for life or else. But that’s only one side of the story, the French one, and to reveal the farther-reaching human side would be to kill the mystère. Because Mammuth is a human story, grainy and great and mysterious, and it’s better to watch it and see then to be shown and be told. Besides, you’ll go see it, right? I mean, it has to be showing somewhere. What with Depardieu being such a big deal and all.

In its delightful little way, Mammuth is a throwback to Les Valseuses – tamer, sure, but subversive and savvy and superb and smart all the same. And in his seemingly unconscious conscious way, Gérard Depardieu seems to consciously-unconsciously make the connection. Once again venting to VSD: “Les Valseuses was in the spirit of youthful provocation, we were in the spirit of revolution. (With Mammuth), we’re in the spirit of demolition.”

Maybe so, peut-être, maybe so. And maybe not, peut-être pas, maybe not. Strong spirits are hard to demolish, after all, while revolutions demolish a lot. But in between there’s hope that some people get it . . . and, having filled their fingernails with dirt, revive their taste for stirring shit up.

Images: Depardieu in Mammuth (1 & 3); Depardeiu in Les Valseuses (2)
















Photoessay by Joe Carducci





Along Hwy 130, Centennial Valley, Wyoming





South of Blue Diamond, Nevada





Above Warner Brothers, Burbank, California





Red Rocks, west of Las Vegas, Nevada





Northwest Arizona, along I-15





Along Hwy 130, Centennial Valley, Wyoming

















Drawing by James Fotopoulos
















From the desk of Joe Carducci...

Post Wars Europe seems to be rushing to recapitulate the American experience since the Civil War began our own anti-democratic new class imperative of federal level centralization of former state or county or municipal or individual authority in a fraction of the time. Since the new left’s integration into the Democratic Party here we’ve had our own fans of this Europe attempting to force our own former organic fifty-state-flavored re-shuffling of old world inheritances into these imported imposed social-central models. The Sunday NYT had this chart of Europe’s “Pension Problems”, a.k.a. “Societal Death Curve” to illustrate the math-that-can’t-be-retained (NYT readers were Humanities/WSJ readers Math and Sports).

Here’s a short roundup of reaction to this recent Greece-triggered watershed moment. Even the German financial newspaper editor the NYT found to applaud it all seems to concede the cart of union has always been ahead of the horse; he figures the horse will now gladly vote to put the harness on itself and pull that now even more burdensome cart.

Clive Crook in the Atlantic on Europe’s Missing Foundations:

“Lackluster leadership? I’d say Europe got into this mess because its leadership was far too lustrous for much too long. When did a united Europe ever capture the imagination of many of its residents? The European project was an elite-driven, top-down affair from the outset. Its leaders took the view, often explicitly, that Europe’s voters did not know what was good for them and would have to be led to enlightenment. There was never any willingness to let public indifference or outright hostility moderate the pace. For the most part, voters were not consulted. When they were, and voted No in the occasional referendum on further transfer of power to Brussels, governments resolved to keep on asking until the voters got it right. Germany adopted the euro despite a sustained majority opposed to monetary union. The political foundations for union were never laid. Governments kept building higher and higher regardless.”


Peter Boone and Simon Johnson in the FT, "How the eurozone set off a race to the bottom".

“Over the past decade, the eurozone has facilitated one of the largest moral hazard schemes of all time. Until Friday, this operated at two levels. Spain and Ireland built huge banking systems, drawn into a property bubble -- but really based on the rules of the eurozone, which implicitly underwrite its commercial banks without adequate supervision. Portugal and Greece ran old-fashioned out-of-control fiscal deficits, financed by bank lending -- with all the debt available to use as collateral for short term borrowing (‘repo’) at the European Central Bank; and underwritten by implicit too-big-to-fail guarantees, which became explicit this weekend.”


Gabor Steingart in the NYT, "It Takes a Crisis to Make a Continent".

“Yes, the rules governing the euro are being breached every day, causing panic in the market. But this is part of a movement forward, not dissolution. According to the monetary union treaty signed in 1999, member states were never meant to take on the debts of a fellow member state, and the European Central Bank, modeled on the German Bundesbank, was meant to ensure monetary stability at all cost. But, at this critical moment, Europe decided that monetary unity was not enough, that it was worth breaking the rules to bring its members closer together as a political unit…. Having forced itself into an era of continental policymaking, Europe must now play catch-up with its democratic system… if the achievements of this crisis are to survive, European leaders must figure out how to make sure the people are heard in the political process. Europe as a decision-making body is a fact; now it has to become more democratic.”


Martin Wolf’s FT blog on Carmen Reinhart’s diagram of the fiscal plot playing out soon in your theater and upon all the world’s stages.

***

Gillian Tett in the FT contrasts how the Irish have accepted what they must do, “Irish treat pain of crisis like a hangover: lying on sofa, groaning”, while the Greeks essentially demand more drinks on the house.

***

Here’s a marker of civilization to aspire to for Muslim believers and pretenders in these toast-modern times; it’s no mystery, they’ve heard of Christendom, Western Europe, America… Start by putting up with an Adam Gopnik canvassing recent Savior-Prophet-Nice Guy literature by all manner of fearless cream-sipping atheists “reading and unreading the Gospels” as he or his polyglot editor puts it. Put up with this vicariously and then expect some many publications, if not the NYer, to make you wear it too.

Husna Haq is an American correspondent at the CSM, but her plaintive, "What’s a Muslim-American to think?", regarding the ‘Everybody Draw Mohammad Day’, a protest over the censoring of Comedy Channel’s “South Park” program over its own wise-ass observing of the proscription against depicting the image of Mohammad, by putting him in a bear suit -- all this in a cartoon of course --, reveals that she had no conception that her fellow Americans expect her as a Muslim to put up with exactly what any Christian or Jew has had to put up with. Where did she get this dangerous idea that her faith would be exempted? Is she a NYer subscriber?

Right on cue hitting his mark, Jim Blanchard has Gospel Album art up on his new flickr page.

And also on schedule appears a Luis Buñuel documentary. Of his many playful critiques of Catholicism, Simon del Desierto (1965), about a desert mystic come down off his pillar for a night on the town is one of the best. Buñuel’s finale of this 45 minute masterpiece features the sometimes a great commotion, Los Sinners. The film itself is must viewing for all Muslim-Americans and “South Park” fans.

Reut Cohen at frontpage.com on Suad Joseph, Apologist for Gender Apartheid.

“Predictably for contemporary Middle East studies, Joseph paid tribute to Edward Said’s deeply flawed book Orientalism, which helps explain her rejection of any implied Western superiority regarding women‘s rights…. Incredibly, Joseph theorized that Arab women want to be claimed by men, and therefore have no objection to being subjects of a patriarchal and theocratic society in which their individual rights are abridged. The audience, which appeared to consist mostly of Center for Near Eastern Studies and Women‘s Studies faculty, nodded their heads in agreement with this troubling statement.”


Michael Young in Slate, "Reading Paul Berman in Beirut".

“But for me and others in the Arab world, Berman’s account of the European idealists posed an essential question deriving from our own experiences. This question Berman has posed again in the brilliant, uncompromising The Flight of the Intellectuals: What does it mean to be a liberal, and how does one uphold liberal values when politics, misshaped by passions and biases, self-righteousness and self-deception, can lead to the defense of thoroughly illiberal ideas?”


Simon Akam on Amy Mills’s book, Streets of Memory: Landscape, Tolerance, and National Identity in Istanbul, is another of a seemly endless unmasking of supposed Islamic ecumenical golden-age cosmopolitanism, stories often peddled by western double-dome leftist atheists for all it earns them in which battle they are waging? I forget.

Daniel Pipes on Ian Johnson’s book, A Mosque in Munich.

“Johnson opens with a review of the systematic Nazi efforts to recruit Soviet Muslims from among their prisoners of war. Many Muslims loathed Stalin; and between 150,000 and 300,000 of them fought for the Axis in World War II. In other words, over and above their unfulfilled propaganda effort directed at Arabs, the Nazis actually fielded a substantial force of mainly Turkic Muslims under the leadership of a scholarly Nazi enthusiast named Gerhard von Mende.

After the German defeat in 1945, Johnson follows von Mende as he continued his anti-communist work with ex-Soviet Muslims, now in a Cold War context. But his network of former soldiers proved not very competent at the task of arousing Muslim hostility against the Soviet Union. Their leading intellectual, for example, had served as the imam of an SS division that helped suppress the Warsaw uprising of 1944. Islamists quickly proved themselves far more competent at this political and religious challenge. Johnson explains that they ‘wear suits, have university degrees, and can formulate their demands in ways that a politician can understand.’

The heart of his fascinating study lies in tracing the evolution, much of it in Munich, from old soldiers to new Islamists. It's a classic tale of 1950s intrigue, complete with rehabilitated Nazis, CIA-front organizations, and dueling Soviet-American ambitions. Johnson shows how, without anyone quite planning it, the Americans usurped von Mende's network and handed it over to Said Ramadan.”


***

The dimming Path, Naomi Mapstone in the FT on neo-mayhem in the Peruvian highlands. When Fujimori’s away, the Maoists will play.

Philip Delves Broughton reviews recent testimony from Burma in the WSJ.

Seth Mydans in the NYT shoots the wounded in Udon Thani, Thailand. Whereas the paper went nutzoid over the constitutional defense against a President’s coup in Honduras, they are very understanding of the coup by the Thai urban elite against the rural majority’s choice. They even switched colors on us. Blue is Red; Red is Green; and Green is Brown. And now Wydot tells me I need my eyes examined!

***

Tobias Buck and Vita Bekker on Israel Inc’s families face backlash, in FT.

***

With ex-wildcatter-in-chief George W. in retirement the NYT feels it is safe to run very good background features which seem to accept the wild west culture still extant in the Houston-centered oil industry, even during this well catastrophe. Tuesday had both this hilarious portrait by Henry Fountain of Pat Campbell, former well-killer in Kuwait and before that with Red Adair, and this more sober story by Clifford Krauss and Tom Zeller about the remarkable sea-drilling specialty company, Transocean. Elsewhere in the paper and across the media pencil-pushers are beginning to blame President Obama which is stupid and might only pressure the state to mis-respond. When this well is “killed” the oil industry -- our oil industry -- will have learned invaluable things about deep water techniques. It would be a terrible waste for the paper-cut/clean-fingernail crowd in Washington to forbid the further use of this expertise. Nobody really wants Russian expertise or Chinese expertise to be filling these contracts in these deep water fields. Bury the brave men, pay their widows, clean up what you can and then let them get back to work.

***

Alexander Theroux on James Haley’s biography, Wolf: The Lives of Jack London, bemoans Haley’s thread fanning homosexuality flames out of the smoke of what, his fire in the 70° below Yukon night? But Theroux likes the book otherwise and American letters certainly needs all the exposure to Jack London it can get. One thing that stands out as I research my way into the swashbuckling era of early film production in the teens and twenties, is that all the many roustabouts and cowboys who made the films were under the living/aesthetic spell of Jack London.

***

WSJ editorial, "Climate change and the courts".

***

The short unsigned editorial in Monday’s WSJ gets right to the nub of the historical bait-and-switch which the many liberal defenders of the federal prerogative as it pertains to the extra-wide load they insist can be constitutionally driven through the commerce clause (all 16 words: “to regulate commerce with foreign nations, and among the several states, and with the Indian tribes,”), because some part of interstate commerce moves along federally funded highways and thereby all social behavior in any business comes under its purview as administered jointly til November by Sen. John D. Rockefeller IV (call him Jay), Chairman of the Senate Committee on Commerce, Science & Transportation, and Congressman Henry Waxman, Chairman of the House Committee on Energy & Commerce.

In the NYT editorial, Limits of Libertarianism, and in the NYT’s resident forensic expert on Conservatism Sam Tanenhaus’s Sunday comment the far less efficient with their own and our time, because first they must pocket absurdum, before they presume federal authorship of human and folk patterns. Of course, as the WSJ alone insists, the old Confederate states were out of line as governments and this was a proper target for federal constitutional intervention. Ross Douthat, the NYT's new conservative columnist has valid criticism of Rand and Ron Paul’s political impulses and even the general outside-the-box dynamic’s danger to wander intently into conspiratorial swamps, but Douthat seems unaware that to sign up for merely what is politic is to fail to correct anything about where this country has drifted.

The truth that is left to the impolitic involved the using of the civil rights movement to take care of other pending business of the Left’s. That that business now deeply encoded at all levels of government is part of the current crisis of leveraged state spending which threatens the bills-paying private sector’s ability to outrun the red ink is making this what the Right is talking about. What is politic for politicians to bring up was once determined by the news media unified by post-WWII corporatism. Now a shell of its former robust self, can the news media still play its own invested rear-guard defense of this New Deal/Great Society quasi-constitutional state? I think not.

***

Matt Ridley in the WSJ, "Humans: Why They Triumphed".

***

Daniel Horan in the WSJ on Martin Preib’s book The Wagon.

***

Ben Ratliff in the NYT "Rethinking the Myth, Exile on Main St."

It’s hard to write well about music and sound and it is so rarely done you wonder whether most writers are really hearing anything but the marketing-buzz subchannel. It’s pop criticism rather than what you’d call music writing or rock criticism. I recently talked to author and Lightbourne college-chum Robert Cantwell and mentioned to him I looted his book, Bluegrass Breakdown, which I found in the library of North Central College in Naperville, for his description of the musical sensation Swing. Perfectly relevant to my rock book, in fact desperately relevant as there is so little such writing in rock criticism itself that I was forced to write it in the first place. I found Cantwell’s description so striking that I mentioned it to Lightbourne on the phone in Portland back then and he told me he knew Cantwell and had to go find the book.

Sunday’s NYT has Ben Ratliff tracking down the music-making truth under the Stones-myth encasing the “Exile” album. It’s less what Ben gets out of Richards and Jagger that tells, it his own intent listening and description of “Loving Cup”:

“It’s country gospel gone lurid, and it seems to rise up out of a nap. Nicky Hopkins’s piano chords circle around a G at slow tempo in an echoey room. Charlie Watts starts pumping a bass drum at the third beat of the second bar; he’s either late or early, but finding his way. Piano and drums roll up to the D chord at the beginning of the first verse, and Mick Taylor bends two guitar strings under Mick Jagger’s opening line: “I’m the man on the mountain — yes, come on up.” Onward, Mr. Watts weaves around the beat, smashing down on his high-hat, forming weird and clattering snare-drum fills. He both shapes and follows the group’s euphoria and the music’s subtle acceleration. The Stones gather around the song like pickpockets, jostling and interfering with it. Keith Richards, playing rhythm guitar and singing backup, quits harmonizing and starts to shout.”


How the rough, living, error-risking music-making of the sixties became a reactionary rearguard defense against the future of punk’s rough, living, error-risking music-making is a story still not told. But its what makes it almost impossible for me to listen to the Rolling Stones’s FM radio and Oliver Stone soundtrack staples when they pop up here. I mean, “Tumblin’ Dice”?! Whereas the left-overs, the non-hits and the old Brian Jones-era garagey Stones (“Fortune Teller”, “Its All Over Now”, “Play with Fire”…) are great to hear when some station mistakenly airs them. Still, I wouldn’t deny that free of Jones Keith Richard built a beautifully designed modern R&B-imbued rock sound where any power-chords were held mostly in reserve. It’s the sketchiness of this version of “Loving Cup” that allows one to listen down into the “jostling” clutter and contention of this early take and hear the music the players heard.

That so much musical history is mere uninspected boomer myth comes hinted at everytime there’s real listening attention paid again to actual recordings by greats-but-not-gods like Hendrix or the Stones. The human sounds of Hendrix’s “The Valleys of Neptune” and the expanded “Exile on Main St.” ought not be so surprising. But in the early seventies the pop critics took over the discourse as Lee Abrams and others took over radio programming, and before you knew it what Lightbourne called “European performance standards” were recuperated by those who considered themselves blues connoisseurs. They figured as long as they hated Boston they were clear no matter the sound engineering budgets required for music they actually preferred, Fleetwood Mac, Eagles, etc. (Again, the Carducci rule on this: the dumber the music audience the more perfect the music must be.) I don’t have to tell you that, unlike the Stones’s loss of their visionary Brian Jones, Pink Floyd’s loss of theirs, Syd Barrett, yielded not much beyond musique concrète, (but it was perfect).

The actual result of that early decadent tax-exile phase of bringing the studio into your home as the Rolling Stones did for parts of “Exile” bears some perverse relation to D.I.Y. strategies soon to come. At SST the bands came into the recording studios of Los Angeles with their own engineer/producer so as not to be recording by the rules of the industry. I loved the look on the Reebok-wearing feathered-hair house-engineers’ faces when Spot entered and walked up to the board grinning and nodding like a cartoon character, wiggling his fingers at the board as if warning it that this would be no rule-following Van Halen sound-alike about to sound off. When Greg Ginn was forced by conditions to wear headphones they’d have to be duct-taped to his head; I don’t remember the engineer still being around by that point.

Now that classic rock and certain punk era musics are seen (heard) as connected in any decent historical mix on the web, the radio or a stadium P.A. perhaps the radio-programming music-publishing box-office winners will endow a pension fund for old-timey punks as the old-line industry once did for the blues and country musicians whose folk donations did so much to pour the foundations for the industry’s mansions in the hills.


***

Alec Wilkinson in the NYer follows Ry Cooder around as he follows Los Tigres del Norte around the Southwest. The piece sketches out Norteño music and the band’s interesting history and deep success. But its left to me to mention that the records are engineered by Joe Pope, formerly of SST recording artists, Angst, and once the owner/flunky of Systematic Record Distribution, not to mention boyhood chum of Jello Biafra.

“John Reilly, Los Tigres’ press agent… told me that most acts have to be taken through the kitchen when they return to their hotels, to avoid the fans in the lobby. Los Tigres have to go through the front door, ‘You take them through the kitchen, and you shut down the hotel,’ he said.”


***

Jason Gross asked a lot of music writers and editors, wtf? Listen mostly to me, and Byron if you must, but note it’s the music editors who really offer little but assertions of their own prerogatives. More reasons we are in such a mf’in golden age.

***

Bruce Kalberg (now there was a music mag editor!) has a photo exhibit up at Reserve soon and so they’ve put a full 1982 issue of his NoMag up for your perusal. Check out the Black Flag ad we threw together using the doodles a Unicorn studio engineer did on a band-photo with added punk graffiti-for-the-ages, plus read Chuck Dukowski’s ‘History of L.A. Punk’. Chuck wrote that at the Unicorn offices after Black Flag’s first UK tour. He knew all the bands out playing live and I remember Laurie O’Connell and I throwing in some of the artier fringe-dwellers for his consideration. Laurie (of the band Monitor and art cabal World Imitation) came into the studio with the Meat Puppets and stayed on as a Unicorn hand in the days when everything was still hunky dory.

***

Read Eddie Flowers pr spiel for the new Gulcher release, by Hollywood Squaretet, which features Larry Copcar, Todd Homer, Joe Baiza, and Dan Clucas, for some real furniture-breaking rock-writing as we once knew it back in the papyrus era when long-distance calls were too expensive to make.

***

Flipside is now an online zine.

***

John Garcia Euro tour late May/June. In Kyuss and thereafter Garcia is underappreciated as a vocalist. It took me some acclimation to his style to get into him but I managed it as I listened to those albums a lot. Here is my favorite recording of his, real soul-fury on “If Only Two” from Unida’s album, “Coping with the Urban Coyote”, on Man’s Ruin Records from 1999, back when everything was hunky dory.

***

Trashflow Radio, Saturdays, WAIF-FM, Cincinnati, Ohio, has an archive full of great themed programs.

***



Michael Hurley is on the road in Ohio, Penn. and Oregon.

***

Trip Henderson’s next roots and blues sit-in sets:

• Whistlin’ Wolves
Saturday May 29, 9:30pm
Googies Lounge, 154 Ludlow St., NYC

• The Second Fiddles
Saturday June 5, 8pm
Hurdy Gurdy Folk Music Club
10-10 20th St., Fair Lawn NJ

***

Here’s one of the best things written about David Lightbourne since his death last month. Joleen Knight posted it on her blog and its a great portrait of Dave in what turned out to be his Wyoming winter.

***

Thanks to Steve Beeho, Mike Safran.





















To receive a weekly update notice for the NV, send an email to newvulgate[at]sbcglobal.net with SUBSCRIBE in the subject line. To stop receiving notices, do the same with the word UNSUBSCRIBE.

• The New Vulgate
• Joe Carducci, Chris Collins, James Fotopoulos, Mike Vann Gray, David Lightbourne
• Copyright retained by the writer, artist, or photographer

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Issue #29 (January 20, 2010)


Vladivostok, Russia


Photo by huan.matus
















fragged mentation
by Chris Collins




Weather of Catastrophe



The worst storm of the winter season thus far came upon Los Angeles Sunday, depositing several inches of rain and menacing homeowners along the periphery of the burn area from last summer's Station Fire in the Angeles National Forest with the threat of mudslides.

Southern California is classified as semi-arid desert. Its climatic analog is the eastern Mediterranean, also in the mid-30s north latitudes and exhibiting similar terrain and scant precipitation.

The city rests in a sandy basin bordered on the north by the San Gabriel Mountains. The range is composed of rugged and almost sheer eminences which top out at about 10,000 feet. Lower elevations are covered in thickets of combustible scrub oak. Pine growth is confined to the higher elevations.

Rainstorms of such prolonged intensity in Los Angeles occur roughly every other year. Your loyal NV West Coast bureau reporter went on a tour of conditions in downtown Burbank on Sunday. Unfortunately the inclemence which waxed in increments left illegible ink remnants of his notes. However, he did return with these photographs.









All were 8 to 15 second exposures taken with a finicky Pentax Spotmatic using a red filter over 35mm black and white negative film.

The rain halts occasionally but more storms are on the way. Through it all, the Angeleno civic spirit, with its intractable, nigh-psychotic tenacity in the face of Mother Nature's despotry, has not buckled.





[In milder conditions: the reverse of the Hollywood sign, Bronson Canyon below and Griffith Observatory seen in the distance]




Extra: James Bowman memorializes French auteur and Cahiers du Cinema alumnus Eric Rohmer (1920-2010)

















Drawing by James Fotopoulos
















From the midwestern oak desk of Joe Carducci...

Sadanand Dhume ex- of the defunct Far East Economic Review, on Islam in Asia claims,

"For the most part, it arrived through trade rather than conquest, by Indian dhow rather than Arab charger. It was preceded by more than a millennium of Hinduism and Buddhism, whose achievements included Borobudur, a massive ninth-century Buddhist stupa, and Majapahit, a Hindu-Buddhist empire whose influence stretched to present-day Cambodia."

That caveat "For the most part" is wide enough to drive a prehistoric demi-holocaust or two through. The coming of Islam to the Indian subcontinent which he is vaguely referencing is now considered to have been the bloodiest event up to that era, though as V.S. Naipaul reminds us the victors wrote the history and labeled their handiwork the Golden Age of Islam. The later arrival of Islam to Sumatra, then, must have been more polite as it was not brought by a land army of plundering Seljuks. Still, even Mr Dhume sees a problem today in this post-Golden but still rather Coppery-tasting Age of Islam.

***

Michael Kimmelman in NYT on the art of the populists in the EU.

Do not send an art critic to defend western civilization. What seems important to Kimmelman:

"Never mind that there are only four minarets in Switzerland to begin with, and that Muslims, some 340,000 of them, or 4 percent of the population, mostly from the Balkans and Turkey, have never been notably zealous."


He goes on to blithely accept the construction that cartoonists "provoked violent protests around the world." Cartoonists drew, therefore many people were killed! This etiquette, we'll-call-it, which is "the politeness" Naipaul is referring to above, does not run both ways you'll notice. The west in the form of Swiss voters are not allowed to be provoked to defend the Switzerland they have inherited and created, by even such as terror, while Islam is conceded a reflexive violence in response to... art, in the form of political cartoons far less scatalogical than any of a thousand pseud-art scandal-mongers he'd approve of and cheer on as they try to get one more rise out of the western bourgeoisie. The art critic's purview is the poster art and how the pros in Zurich done it, but the truth is the Swiss trust the Muslims to be Muslim but they do not trust their own political class to protect them, rather than preen their cultural distance from them to the elites of internationalism in global capitols -- the so-called Davos man -- which includes the odd art critic apparently. That said, I did enjoy Michael's NYTMag 2005 profile of noted art-cartoonist/anarcho-fundamentalist Raymond Pettibon.

***



FT's John Lloyd review of Marxist critique of the EU, The New Old World.

***

Andrew Anthony in the Guardian on the death of a Brit academic true-believer unlucky enough to get to meet an idol of his idealism long ago in a Phnom Penh far away.

***

On Google's exit from China, from the FT:

"With the US technology giant allowing uncensored searches in Chinese for the first time, citizens of the People’s Republic are this week indulging their curiosity ahead of a widely expected crackdown. 'I’ve been doing all sorts of crazy searches, really distracting myself from my work,' says one. 'I’ve done Tiananmen Square, the love affairs of national leaders, the corruption of leaders’ children. Everything.'"


***

IBD asks, Is China Really Growing that Fast?

"Last year, Derek Scissors, a fellow at the Heritage Foundation, likewise critiqued China's economic record-keeping — and asserted China's current economic model of high growth based on forced lending by the government is unsustainable. 'In the past, the People's Bank would report loan growth in the 15% range, supporting better-than-10% GDP growth,' he wrote. Last year, China's lending surged by a third, thanks to its own $590 billion 'stimulus' package. But growth was just 8%."


***



Jean Sabate in LeMonde on Vladivostok, "Russia's ruined Far Eastern Metropolis." With all the globalization action in Asia, beginning with Hong Kong and Japan in the sixties, followed most notably by South Korea, Taiwan, and China, I've wondered over the years whether Russia's smudged window on the far east, Vladivostok, might not jump-start the new Russia with a wild east boomtown -- a Slavic Seattle... So I've periodically checked the one or two English-language V-stock news sites but nothing particularly seems happening other than a hellacious trade in used and stolen automobiles which somehow has everyone in town driving their right lane roads with right-side steering wheels. Think about it! How can they amount to anything doing that? No drive-thru banking, no drive-thru liquor stores... Generations of Russians exiled to Valdivostok for being too clever or too wild can't seem to overcome the dead hand of all those military bases and facilities built up over the last century and a half.

[Photo by huan.matus]

***

The Inuit Circumpolar Council has sued the EU to overturn last year's ban on the import of seal products. "The legislation was one of the most non-partisan bills to pass through the European Parliament. Believing the issue to be massively popular amongst EU citizens ahead of elections to the chamber in June, some 550 deputies voted in favour of the ban, with just 49 opposed."

***

Retail in Chicago.



Carson Pirie Scott & Co. closed in Feb 2007; since then Whole Foods, Roundy's, Fox & Obel, Billabong... have announced they would open up in Louis Sullivan's State Street landmark only to have plans fall apart. Now Target...?

Mayor Daley is still working the angles to try to allow Wal-Mart past the unions and the city council's blockade. He seems to have manoeuvred the more radical aldermen and -women into path of job-hungry, shopping-crazed females expecting they'll be torn limb from limb. But it's been going on awhile now.

***

Jeffrey Ball in the WSJ peers through the cloud of subsidies to try to chart the actual relative costs of producing this or that energies.

***



There are sons of Haiti in the NHL.

***

The FT on China's blogger/race-car driver Han Han. "Driving is safer."

***

Duane Eddy is still alive and he's just played Orange County.

***



This Ain't the Summer of Love - Conflict and Crossover in Heavy Metal and Punk, by Steve Waksman.

"When not on the make with the Runaways, Kim Fowley was always hustling for other opportunities. Contacted by Murray Krugman to see if he had any lyrics he could contribute to the upcoming Blue Oyster Cult album, Fowley arranged a meeting between Krugman and Don Waller, a Los Angeles musician and journalist known for his affiliation with one of that city's most important early rock fanzines, Back Door Man. Waller laid out all his lyrics on the rug of Fowley's apartment floor; Krugman singled out "This Ain't the Summer of Love" as the one for the Blue Oyster Cult to record."


***

Migrating Forms, formerly the New York Underground Film Festival (and named for the second feature film by James Fotopoulos) has its call out for experimental film and video submissions:

Early Deadline: January 15, 2010
Regular Deadline: Feburary 15, 2010
Late Deadline: March 15, 2010


Festival: May 14-23, 2010 at Anthology Film Archives, New York, New York

***

Dave Kehr in the NYT on early sound film releases to DVD.

In my research for my upcoming film book I've been leaving TCM on whenever they run a string of pre-1933 films. The early sound period, especially 1928 to 1931 is full of interesting production clumsiness where the generally invisible Hollywood narrative mode was suddenly quite visible and audible. On top of such interest there are a good number of well done films as well and the flatter production style with naturalistic sound if not acting leaves a better taste in one's mouth than the superslick greased narrative propulsion of recent years. Of the early sound period Kehr writes, "Most of the studios made revue films as a quick way to get their stars before the microphones -- and to see who would survive the transition and who would not.... From Warner Brothers, 'The Show of Shows' seems almost aggressive in the way it pits the studio's biggest stars of the silent era, including John Barrymore and Rin Tin Tin, against peppy newcomers like Sally Eilers and Chester Morris." It wasn't quite that Darwinian but the studios used the changeover and its new expenses to look for savings elsewhere and the fat salaries of stars in the late silent era were big targets.

What is generally forgotten is that Edison never intended for there to be a silent era. Film was to be another wax cylinder-style player -- a kinetoscope, playing a celluloid cylinder and synced to the sound cylinder, these to be seen and heard by an audience-of-one at a nickelodeon or an arcade. Edison did not patent his projector technology as he did not imagine it feasible to assemble an audience for a scheduled projection of an image. Perhaps he felt it could only be a poor substitute for the live theater of flesh-and-blood actors if put under a similar proscenium arch. His underling, William K.L. Dickson, played along out of respect for the old man, but Dickson believed in projection and left the Edison Co. in 1895 for the American Mutoscope and Biograph Company which focused on the coming film projection standard (and where ten years later D.W. Griffith began putting together the narrative grammar most film and video-makers have depended on since, not to mention its backspin influence on theater, fiction, journalism and cartoons). But way back at the end of the 19th century, the moving image accompanied by music alone, and the odd title card, launched an enormous new cultural industry and had a thirty year-run at the top of the artistic food-chain; it's now called the Silent Era. Here's the first Dickson-supervised Edison sound film production from 1894 (the once broken wax cylinder was recently reassembled digitally and synced up).

[USPS stamp: William Dickson]

***

Obituaries of the week.


Jan Gabriel, voice of smokin' US-30 Dragstrip, and the Santa Fe Speedway near Hinsdale, noted for his opening, echoing call: "Sunday!!!" He was also a disc jockey beginning in the late fifties in northwest Indiana and the Chicago area, and host of "Up Tempo" on local television, sock-hops, etc.






George Leonard, Look Magazine, Esalen, Aikido...

***

Jack Brewer guests on the new episode of the Watt from Pedro Show.

***

(thanks to Steve Beeho, Andy Schwartz)


















To receive a weekly update notice for the NV, send an email to newvulgate[at]sbcglobal.net with SUBSCRIBE in the subject line. To stop receiving notices, do the same with the word UNSUBSCRIBE.

• The New Vulgate
• Joe Carducci, Chris Collins, James Fotopoulos, Mike Vann Gray, David Lightbourne
• Copyright retained by the writer, artist, or photographer