I was channeling Lou Reed this week.
It actually started a month ago with a book on the Velvet Underground at my work, a complete discography of the group plus their solo output and all that. I read that thing during my lunch breaks an pretty soon I was feeling like I hadn't indulged in their music for a spell, so I browsed through the DVDs and found a live concert performance of Berlin directed by Julian Schabel. I took it home with me but hadn't opened it to watch it until a few days ago. As I watched it, I realized how unfamiliar I was with this album, so I looked up a review of it in my own Lou Reed/VU bio book. I got the lowdown on it: underappreciated masterpiece, scorned when first released but cult status has grown with time... the same thing with lots of Reed's music. Probably will happen for Lulu in about five or ten years...
Back at work the next day, I remembered that I had a vinyl copy of Berlin on my stash shelf, so I bought it. Took it home but didn't give it a spin, because I wanted to watch the rest of the DVD. Kept reading my Reed bio book and thinking about the collection of songs I'm finally getting around to releasing and how much debt I owed to Reed.
Then, on a train ride in Noblesville, my wife gasped aloud. She was checking her e-mail via her smart phone when she got the news about Lou Reed's death. My wife became a huge fan when we made the cross-country drive to Indianapolis; Lou Reed was her John Lennon, as she put it. I was in a state of shock, so much so that even our son got the hint when I told him to be quiet.
I realized how much Reed had been in the air this past week: I'd hear mentions of his name or hear someone covering a song of his (David Bowie doing "I'm Waiting For My Man" over the speakers at work) or see him on the TV (a special feature on the Berlin DVD included an episode of that Elvis Costello program-- Spectacle, I think it's called --with Reed and Julian Schnabel; I wanted to hear Lou speak but Schnabel just wasted all their time with his drivel, and you could see on Lou's face how bored he was with the director. Just because the guy loved the Berlin album enough to make it into a movie doesn't mean that Lou has to put up with his pretentious grandstanding.
I also realized that, with the exception of Prince, I own more Lou Reed/Velvet Underground albums and books and DVDs than anything else. I've had more Velvets/Reed stuff on my stash shelf at work than anything else (even prince, mostly because I already own a lot of hiss stuff) and never put any of it back when it came time to make purchases.
I remembered how my parents gave me such a small allowance that I could only afford clearance/marked down music at The Wherehouse store. All the stuff that eventually turned out to be the best stuff anyway-- Velvet Underground, Stooges, New York Dolls --was cheaper than the rest, so I bought them. That's how I got into that kind of music: economics. My personal situation dictated my tastes, so thank God for poverty!
But there was no poverty of taste when it came to Lou Reed. I can understand if people don't like his music or don't "get" what it's about. That's fine. But I instantly get suspicious of anyone who isn't hip to what he was about, because they tend to not like a lot of other good things and also tend to embrace flashes-in-the-pan regularly. And so far, in this life, that's been a great indicator of who to avoid or not take too seriously.
Monday, October 28, 2013
Friday, October 18, 2013
Reflections On The Insurance Wars
I remember when I was 19 and spent my first Fourth of July away from our traditional family routine. Normally we'd stay at home, watch the "Twilight Zone" marathon on TV, barbecue, and let off fireworks in the alley behind our house or in the back yard. I don't think I ever left the house for a single Fourth of July in all the years leading up to 1993.
Needless to say, I thought everyone did what we did for the holiday. So imagine my shock when I was in my friend's car, driving to a spot to watch a fireworks display... and I saw rows and rows of people out on their front lawns, watching fireworks in the sky from nearby locations. It really blew my mind to realize that all these years the rest of the city participated in something that I had no clue about, due to the insular nature of my annual celebrations with the family.
So it is with health insurance. I've always known that people buy health insurance, but because I always got my insurance through my job I never really put two-and-two together: in a strange way, I kind of assumed that everyone got health insurance through their job, and that when you lost your job your only recourse was to pay into COBRA (which was never an alternative for someone such as myself, who has never been rich and could not see myself paying $200 to extend my benefits when I needed that money to survive if my search for a new job took longer than expected). Thanks to my solipsism, I never realized until recently how many people pay for health insurance outside of their profession.
This made me realize that, although I've been insured over the years through various employers, I actually belong in the demographic of people who have never had their own health plans. When I was unemployed for nearly two years, I didn't have any health insurance. My son was covered by Medi-Cal (back when we lived in California) and my wife had benefits through her job, but I had nothing. Zilch. Nada. If I'd had any of the maladies I am experiencing now (diabetes, sleep apnea) during that time, how screwed would I be?
There was once a time when I didn't pay car insurance either. Why? Because I didn't have a car... or a license. I didn't take my driver test until I was 19 (a lot happened to me that year) and even then I didn't own a car that worked until I was in my mid-twenties. So paying car insurance was something I never thought about. Now I take it for granted, but for a time it was a new world and things were different back then.
Living in the Midwest now, I pay about a third of what I used to pay in California. Of course, I have never owned or leased a new car, and I have a better driving record here than back home, but even when I was at my safest in the Golden State the lowest I ever paid for insurance was probably double what I pay now, which is less than $50 a month. I can definitely live with that. I am not a rich man, but I think even if I were homeless and living out of my car, paying $50 a month to insure my vehicle is a deal.
Of course, the new Affordable Care Act is not car insurance: for example, you can get away with being a scofflaw and not paying for car insurance (albeit for a limited time, and with much paranoia whenever you get behind the wheel) but apparently you get penalized for not paying into the health care system. However, I lived for a great deal of time in Los Angeles without a car, and therefore I didn't need to pay for insurance during that time. I can't see how I can do the same with health insurance-- it would be impossible, to say the least. Unless you're a zombie (and these days so many people aspire to be) it is a useless solution.
So I'm glad to pay into the mandate system, but I don't have to because my employer has me covered and their plan is not changing. It is nice to know, however, that if I lost my job I could now play Big Spender like all my richer-than-thou friends and actually buy my own plan if need be, and that it may be cheaper than paying into COBRA. I could even decide to go rogue and buy outside my job coverage, if I so desired. This is a luxury I never allowed myself nor thought possible. And when I say 'luxury' I mean it as it stands: some people have never had any health insurance ever, and trips to the ER were their version of affordable care.
I mean, the bottom line is this: we all know that ALL insurance is a big scam. But if I have to pay for insurance, at least it should cover me in case I get sick.
One last thing: recently I was trying to renew my car insurance but ran into some red tape because I had never filled out an exclusion form for my wife on my truck. She never drives it anyway, but the agent insisted I needed to fill it out in order to renew. He kept e-mailing it to me but I never received it. I found out on the last day of the month (and also the last day of my policy) that they were sending it to my old e-mail address. So I printed it, had her sign it, then sent it via e-mail to my agent, but on the first of the next month I called the agency and my policy had not been renewed.
Not wanting to drive even one day without being insured, I immediately found another agency and received a policy that was only a few dollars more than my last policy (and given that I had a speeding ticket last year, it made sense that my new policy would be slightly more expensive). Of course, this resulted in endless appeals from other insurers who wanted my business over the following three days. I appreciated the concern, but that's the price of doing business: you can only give your money to one company.
A week later, I received a letter from my old insurer. They had renewed my policy after all, and had my insurance card and everything ready to go. I had to politely decline because I didn't need two policies for the same truck, but it was amusing to me that they wanted my business that badly... and maybe they will get it, if they can beat the cost I'm paying right now.
I predict that this is how it will be one day with Obamacare: lots of competition, plenty of insurers vying for your business, falling over each other just to sign you up. This is not a bad thing-- you just have to give it time to work, something that government shutdowns and partisan politics will not permit.
Needless to say, I thought everyone did what we did for the holiday. So imagine my shock when I was in my friend's car, driving to a spot to watch a fireworks display... and I saw rows and rows of people out on their front lawns, watching fireworks in the sky from nearby locations. It really blew my mind to realize that all these years the rest of the city participated in something that I had no clue about, due to the insular nature of my annual celebrations with the family.
So it is with health insurance. I've always known that people buy health insurance, but because I always got my insurance through my job I never really put two-and-two together: in a strange way, I kind of assumed that everyone got health insurance through their job, and that when you lost your job your only recourse was to pay into COBRA (which was never an alternative for someone such as myself, who has never been rich and could not see myself paying $200 to extend my benefits when I needed that money to survive if my search for a new job took longer than expected). Thanks to my solipsism, I never realized until recently how many people pay for health insurance outside of their profession.
This made me realize that, although I've been insured over the years through various employers, I actually belong in the demographic of people who have never had their own health plans. When I was unemployed for nearly two years, I didn't have any health insurance. My son was covered by Medi-Cal (back when we lived in California) and my wife had benefits through her job, but I had nothing. Zilch. Nada. If I'd had any of the maladies I am experiencing now (diabetes, sleep apnea) during that time, how screwed would I be?
There was once a time when I didn't pay car insurance either. Why? Because I didn't have a car... or a license. I didn't take my driver test until I was 19 (a lot happened to me that year) and even then I didn't own a car that worked until I was in my mid-twenties. So paying car insurance was something I never thought about. Now I take it for granted, but for a time it was a new world and things were different back then.
Living in the Midwest now, I pay about a third of what I used to pay in California. Of course, I have never owned or leased a new car, and I have a better driving record here than back home, but even when I was at my safest in the Golden State the lowest I ever paid for insurance was probably double what I pay now, which is less than $50 a month. I can definitely live with that. I am not a rich man, but I think even if I were homeless and living out of my car, paying $50 a month to insure my vehicle is a deal.
Of course, the new Affordable Care Act is not car insurance: for example, you can get away with being a scofflaw and not paying for car insurance (albeit for a limited time, and with much paranoia whenever you get behind the wheel) but apparently you get penalized for not paying into the health care system. However, I lived for a great deal of time in Los Angeles without a car, and therefore I didn't need to pay for insurance during that time. I can't see how I can do the same with health insurance-- it would be impossible, to say the least. Unless you're a zombie (and these days so many people aspire to be) it is a useless solution.
So I'm glad to pay into the mandate system, but I don't have to because my employer has me covered and their plan is not changing. It is nice to know, however, that if I lost my job I could now play Big Spender like all my richer-than-thou friends and actually buy my own plan if need be, and that it may be cheaper than paying into COBRA. I could even decide to go rogue and buy outside my job coverage, if I so desired. This is a luxury I never allowed myself nor thought possible. And when I say 'luxury' I mean it as it stands: some people have never had any health insurance ever, and trips to the ER were their version of affordable care.
I mean, the bottom line is this: we all know that ALL insurance is a big scam. But if I have to pay for insurance, at least it should cover me in case I get sick.
One last thing: recently I was trying to renew my car insurance but ran into some red tape because I had never filled out an exclusion form for my wife on my truck. She never drives it anyway, but the agent insisted I needed to fill it out in order to renew. He kept e-mailing it to me but I never received it. I found out on the last day of the month (and also the last day of my policy) that they were sending it to my old e-mail address. So I printed it, had her sign it, then sent it via e-mail to my agent, but on the first of the next month I called the agency and my policy had not been renewed.
Not wanting to drive even one day without being insured, I immediately found another agency and received a policy that was only a few dollars more than my last policy (and given that I had a speeding ticket last year, it made sense that my new policy would be slightly more expensive). Of course, this resulted in endless appeals from other insurers who wanted my business over the following three days. I appreciated the concern, but that's the price of doing business: you can only give your money to one company.
A week later, I received a letter from my old insurer. They had renewed my policy after all, and had my insurance card and everything ready to go. I had to politely decline because I didn't need two policies for the same truck, but it was amusing to me that they wanted my business that badly... and maybe they will get it, if they can beat the cost I'm paying right now.
I predict that this is how it will be one day with Obamacare: lots of competition, plenty of insurers vying for your business, falling over each other just to sign you up. This is not a bad thing-- you just have to give it time to work, something that government shutdowns and partisan politics will not permit.
Saturday, October 05, 2013
Sinead vs. Miley
First of all, Sinead is right. Just like she was right about The Pope, she is also right about Miley. Her open letter was brutal and frank but not mean, and I admire it because (1) Sinead knows the music business and is not lying or exaggerating about what it has done to people and what it will continue to do to people so long as they allow it to continue, and (2) even though there is a maternal tone to the letter, Sinead is actually treating Miley like an adult. Some people have expressed that her letter is condescending but I don't think it is at all-- I think Sinead is offering advice, and for Miley the adult thing to do would've been to reply with an open letter and politely decline the offer.
Instead, what does Miley do? Re-post tweets that detail Sinead's troubles in the past. So in other words, Sinead was wrong about one thing: Miley Cyrus is not mature enough to be treated as an equal in an open letter.
And this is what it's all about, by the way: maturity. Not slut shaming, not raunchy musical numbers, not risque videos or tongue wagging... the bottom line is, Miley's new makeover is her attempt to shed her kid image and show she's an adult. But she's not. She may be on the verge of 21, but she is actually less mature than most girls her age. And the proof is in her actions and statements.
Let's get the "slut shaming" issue out of the way once and for all by comparing Miley to someone who has provoked similar controversies: Madonna. Back when Madonna was Miley's age, she was hanging out with Jean-Michel Basquiat and Fab Five Freddy, dabbling in the New York art/punk/music scenes. By the time she became world-famous, Madonna was firmly in control of her image: she told her stylists how to dress her, she told her make-up people and hair people how to do her up, she told her PR people what was cool and what sucked, and she owned her image. It was never foisted upon her, and when labeled a 'slut' or a 'tramp' she was able to defend herself or (better yet) ignore the accusations and move on. Madonna, moreover, never seemed desperate for approval-- she couldn't give a fuck what anyone thought... just ask Kevin Costner!
Miley, by comparison, grew up with Billy Ray Cyrus as a dad. The closest she has gotten to rubbing elbows with the cool and edgy was when her dad was cast in a David Lynch movie. Otherwise, she has been handled for most of her life by people who work for a cartoon mouse. She has no style of her own, so all this recent mish-mash is her attempt to create her own style. Of course, it's as authentic as a pair of pleather pants, but her handlers insist it's what hot this year so it must be cool!
When accused of being a 'slut' or whatever, Miley needs to be defended by others. She cannot defend herself, or rather, she can't defend herself coherently. And doesn't that defeat the purpose of stepping out into the limelight as a quote-unquote adult? The fact is, if she's all grown up now then no one needs to defend Miley and no one should defend her. So why is everyone trying to spin it like Miley is some innovator when she is actually a huge poseur?
Yes, that's right-- she's a poseur. She's that girl who goes away to college and one day shows up wearing a Pixies T-shirt and claiming she has always loved Sinead O'Connor, even though every single thing she's done up until that point contradicts this information. Maybe Miley really is a closet indie-rock fan, and maybe she did discover Sinead O'Connor all by herself while listening to Juicy J's rough mixes of her newest album. But her career up until this point has never betrayed that, and so we must ask: is this latest persona just an act too?
If it is, then that's cool. Madonna, Britney Spears, David Bowie, Prince... the music world is made up of performers who shed their images like snake skins. But the difference is, none of them looked like they were going to fall over because they can't walk in heels. Not that Miley doesn't look comfortable in heels-- that's a metaphor I used to describe what I see is happening: Miley wants to have her cake and eat it too. She wants to be a big girl but she hasn't earned it yet. I mean, even Britney had the sense to release a song like "I'm Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman" before she jumped into "I'm A Slave 4 U"...
Another thing: Amanda Palmer from The Dresden Dolls is not one to take Sinead O'Connor to task for her open letter to Miley. I think her letter was weird in its defense of Miley, and besides-- who asked for her opinion anyway, even if it was an open letter? Didn't Ms. Palmer & Margaret Cho lampoon Katy Perry for her song "I Kissed A Girl" a few years back? Talk about slut shaming. I guess if it gets approval from the LGBT community then it's OK to bash a vacant pop star for trying to be edgy.
And along with maturity, it boils down to edginess: so many pop stars these days have no edge. If Miley thinks her VMA performance was edgy, she needs to find tapes in the MTV archives of presentations that were ten times edgier than what she did. If she had come out the gate doing Wendy O. Williams of The Plasmatics, then I would've given her props for being edgy. Instead, she came off as a little girl playing dress up (or dress down, if you prefer) and managed to make something that could've been playful and sexy into an embarrassment.
So, to recap: Miley is a poseur. A girl who's had everything handed to her all her life now wants the one thing that money can't buy: credibility. It has nothing to do with sex, celebrity, or fame. It has everything to do with a 20 year-old with more money than all the people in her age group put together trying to act like she is older and more mature than she is, and not understanding the difference between actual haters and people who want to lend a loving but firm hand.
Perhaps right now as we speak, Miley is pretending that she has always loved the music of Bob Dylan. And maybe she will hear his song "Just Like A Woman" and maybe the chorus will resonate with her, not as an opportunity to seem cool and edgy but as a true reflection of where she is right now.
I don't dislike Miley Cyrus-- I just wish she would be more honest. But that's hard to do when you're a child of privilege trying to negotiate new terrain in a world full of critics and big meanies. And professing to love an artist whose last hit came out before you were even born then turning around and dissing her when she makes an overture is as intellectually dishonest as it gets.
I always say, you gotta take anything a person in their 20's says with a grain of salt. I didn't start saying that, of course, until recently. I'm almost 40, and I look back on my thoughts and actions back in my heyday and shudder. I thought I knew it all, and hell-- maybe I did know a lot. But I didn't know it all, and I'm still learning. But I would've never admitted it when I was 20, and I don't expect Miley Cyrus to admit it either.
Instead, what does Miley do? Re-post tweets that detail Sinead's troubles in the past. So in other words, Sinead was wrong about one thing: Miley Cyrus is not mature enough to be treated as an equal in an open letter.
And this is what it's all about, by the way: maturity. Not slut shaming, not raunchy musical numbers, not risque videos or tongue wagging... the bottom line is, Miley's new makeover is her attempt to shed her kid image and show she's an adult. But she's not. She may be on the verge of 21, but she is actually less mature than most girls her age. And the proof is in her actions and statements.
Let's get the "slut shaming" issue out of the way once and for all by comparing Miley to someone who has provoked similar controversies: Madonna. Back when Madonna was Miley's age, she was hanging out with Jean-Michel Basquiat and Fab Five Freddy, dabbling in the New York art/punk/music scenes. By the time she became world-famous, Madonna was firmly in control of her image: she told her stylists how to dress her, she told her make-up people and hair people how to do her up, she told her PR people what was cool and what sucked, and she owned her image. It was never foisted upon her, and when labeled a 'slut' or a 'tramp' she was able to defend herself or (better yet) ignore the accusations and move on. Madonna, moreover, never seemed desperate for approval-- she couldn't give a fuck what anyone thought... just ask Kevin Costner!
Miley, by comparison, grew up with Billy Ray Cyrus as a dad. The closest she has gotten to rubbing elbows with the cool and edgy was when her dad was cast in a David Lynch movie. Otherwise, she has been handled for most of her life by people who work for a cartoon mouse. She has no style of her own, so all this recent mish-mash is her attempt to create her own style. Of course, it's as authentic as a pair of pleather pants, but her handlers insist it's what hot this year so it must be cool!
When accused of being a 'slut' or whatever, Miley needs to be defended by others. She cannot defend herself, or rather, she can't defend herself coherently. And doesn't that defeat the purpose of stepping out into the limelight as a quote-unquote adult? The fact is, if she's all grown up now then no one needs to defend Miley and no one should defend her. So why is everyone trying to spin it like Miley is some innovator when she is actually a huge poseur?
Yes, that's right-- she's a poseur. She's that girl who goes away to college and one day shows up wearing a Pixies T-shirt and claiming she has always loved Sinead O'Connor, even though every single thing she's done up until that point contradicts this information. Maybe Miley really is a closet indie-rock fan, and maybe she did discover Sinead O'Connor all by herself while listening to Juicy J's rough mixes of her newest album. But her career up until this point has never betrayed that, and so we must ask: is this latest persona just an act too?
If it is, then that's cool. Madonna, Britney Spears, David Bowie, Prince... the music world is made up of performers who shed their images like snake skins. But the difference is, none of them looked like they were going to fall over because they can't walk in heels. Not that Miley doesn't look comfortable in heels-- that's a metaphor I used to describe what I see is happening: Miley wants to have her cake and eat it too. She wants to be a big girl but she hasn't earned it yet. I mean, even Britney had the sense to release a song like "I'm Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman" before she jumped into "I'm A Slave 4 U"...
Another thing: Amanda Palmer from The Dresden Dolls is not one to take Sinead O'Connor to task for her open letter to Miley. I think her letter was weird in its defense of Miley, and besides-- who asked for her opinion anyway, even if it was an open letter? Didn't Ms. Palmer & Margaret Cho lampoon Katy Perry for her song "I Kissed A Girl" a few years back? Talk about slut shaming. I guess if it gets approval from the LGBT community then it's OK to bash a vacant pop star for trying to be edgy.
And along with maturity, it boils down to edginess: so many pop stars these days have no edge. If Miley thinks her VMA performance was edgy, she needs to find tapes in the MTV archives of presentations that were ten times edgier than what she did. If she had come out the gate doing Wendy O. Williams of The Plasmatics, then I would've given her props for being edgy. Instead, she came off as a little girl playing dress up (or dress down, if you prefer) and managed to make something that could've been playful and sexy into an embarrassment.
So, to recap: Miley is a poseur. A girl who's had everything handed to her all her life now wants the one thing that money can't buy: credibility. It has nothing to do with sex, celebrity, or fame. It has everything to do with a 20 year-old with more money than all the people in her age group put together trying to act like she is older and more mature than she is, and not understanding the difference between actual haters and people who want to lend a loving but firm hand.
Perhaps right now as we speak, Miley is pretending that she has always loved the music of Bob Dylan. And maybe she will hear his song "Just Like A Woman" and maybe the chorus will resonate with her, not as an opportunity to seem cool and edgy but as a true reflection of where she is right now.
I don't dislike Miley Cyrus-- I just wish she would be more honest. But that's hard to do when you're a child of privilege trying to negotiate new terrain in a world full of critics and big meanies. And professing to love an artist whose last hit came out before you were even born then turning around and dissing her when she makes an overture is as intellectually dishonest as it gets.
I always say, you gotta take anything a person in their 20's says with a grain of salt. I didn't start saying that, of course, until recently. I'm almost 40, and I look back on my thoughts and actions back in my heyday and shudder. I thought I knew it all, and hell-- maybe I did know a lot. But I didn't know it all, and I'm still learning. But I would've never admitted it when I was 20, and I don't expect Miley Cyrus to admit it either.
Friday, June 14, 2013
The Sellout Standard
One of the many things I love about rap music is that the definition of what it is to 'sell out' is clearly defined: Since it started off as (and is mostly still) a black medium, selling out means being an Uncle Tom and not 'keeping it real' and being a shill for The Man.
But it doesn't include getting paid. That's because historically black entertainers have routinely been shafted when it comes to their paper. So when rap started to gain a foothold in pop culture, there was nothing wrong with an MC rapping about making money. If the MC came from the ghetto and was born and raised poor, then making money was a GOOD thing. As long as he didn't have to simp and shoe-shuffle for his pay, he was doing fine. And since most major labels weren't touching rap music with ten-foot poles back then, there was no fear of being seen as the House Negro.
Of course, for rappers money had other downsides: Jealous peers in the ghetto who make a living robbing folks might decide that it's MC Flossalot's turn to get stripped for his garments, for example. But the proverbial MC Flossalot won't be considered a sellout until he has a white bitch on his arm and starts rapping about trivial BS.
Contrast that definition of selling out with the hardcore punk scene, which often gets compared to early hip-hop. To a hardcore punk rocker, selling out is anything that makes your band look like greedy corporate whores. That can mean anything from expensive T-shirts/merchandise to slower tempo songs with better production to jumping to a major label... the list goes on, really. Maybe because punk has roots in white lower-class neighborhoods, the standard is much stricter. At the end of the day, being white and lower-class has many more advantages than being poor and black. And so in order to prove that their commitment to the underground is paramount, hardcore punks have to present a much starker vision of life below the mainstream dividing line.
The D.C. hardcore scene instantly springs to mind, simply because they invented the idea of 'straight-edge' and bands like Fugazi later created the template on how to operate within the music industry with their souls intact. (The answer: all ages shows, no merch, no corporate sponsors) But this idea that you were not a good band if more than a small handful of in-the-know music lovers knew who you were spread from beyond the confines of all the local hardcore scenes and became a national phenomenon by the time the music biz decided that 'grunge' from Seattle was The Next Big Thing in the 1990s.
It was no coincidence that the year Nirvana got big was the year that Punk finally became a commodity worth trading. Since its inception, punk has been marketed for consumers. (Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood, anyone?) Along the way, various attempts were made to co-opt the trend: New Wave was the first attempt, followed by all sorts of lunacy (seeing an episode of "CHiPs where a punk band named Pain committed crimes against gridlock) and endless variations on the same thing. But we have Mr. Cobain to thank for the Final Bastardization, and as much as he pretended he didn't want to be on the cover of Rolling Stone, we all know by now that being famous was something he wanted almost as bad as Courtney Love.
Now you see kids who were BORN in 1991 wearing Misfits tees-- I confess that our son (whose middle name is Ramone, with an 'e') wore a onesy with the Ramones logo on them. The fact that he also had a Wu-Tang bib goes without comment or outrage, while some punks might be angry about the onesy, even if it was a gift and not bought with our own money. ("You should've returned it" is how I suppose the hardest core of punks would reply to that)
All of this only leads me to conclude that the whole hardcore punk notion of 'selling out' does no one any good and is, in fact, a danger to creativity.
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I love De La Soul. Their first three albums fit the criterion for classic status. They are intelligent hip-hop, rap music for people who remember the promise and potential it had in the late '80s.
Each album they put out sells less than the last. Nicki Minaj has probably sold more albums in her short 15 minutes than De La has sold in their entire 20+ year career. (I like Nicki, but she has yet to produce anything as awesome as 3 Feet High & Rising) In a just world they should be in the Top 10 while rappers like Drake and Lil' Wayne should be the ones struggling to find an outlet. But things are different now, and De La's fortunes are waning as time goes on.
I can't really blame the market, though. If anything is to blame for De La's lack of popularity, it's the idea of 'selling out' that came not from hip-hop circles but from hardcore punk circles. And since De La were (and still are) the biggest proclaimers of this sellout standard in the rap game, the blame lies squarely on them. After all, they are the ones who titled their second album De La Soul Is Dead.
One factor that may explain why a group like De La is much harsher about selling out stems from their roots: middle-class, not the ghetto, not even white lower-class. They aren't punks nor are they ghetto children. They're black, but not militant. There's a rejection of privilege going on that they subscribe to, and if they were white it would not be a mysterious matter.
Unlike The Ramones, who toiled away and actually wanted to make money off their music (since they were never hardcore, even when their music got grittier and faster), De La Soul seems to be resisting the Top 40. They see the danger there. As black middle-class performers, they know that The Man and The Machine that runs entertainment will not be merciful to them. As middle-class rappers, they are anomalies... they would have a better chance at acceptance these days if they were white and poor, like Eminem.
Nevertheless, I think it's a shame that De La Soul is essentially shooting themselves in the foot because of their principles. Because as awesome as it is that they have consciences, it doesn't make up for the criminal neglect of their artistry. I really wish they'd subscribe to their genre's definitions of selling out. But if they won't, and if they're willing to stand their ground, then in the end they will be recognized as the pioneers and exemplars that they are. I just hope they are around to receive that love when its due.
But it doesn't include getting paid. That's because historically black entertainers have routinely been shafted when it comes to their paper. So when rap started to gain a foothold in pop culture, there was nothing wrong with an MC rapping about making money. If the MC came from the ghetto and was born and raised poor, then making money was a GOOD thing. As long as he didn't have to simp and shoe-shuffle for his pay, he was doing fine. And since most major labels weren't touching rap music with ten-foot poles back then, there was no fear of being seen as the House Negro.
Of course, for rappers money had other downsides: Jealous peers in the ghetto who make a living robbing folks might decide that it's MC Flossalot's turn to get stripped for his garments, for example. But the proverbial MC Flossalot won't be considered a sellout until he has a white bitch on his arm and starts rapping about trivial BS.
Contrast that definition of selling out with the hardcore punk scene, which often gets compared to early hip-hop. To a hardcore punk rocker, selling out is anything that makes your band look like greedy corporate whores. That can mean anything from expensive T-shirts/merchandise to slower tempo songs with better production to jumping to a major label... the list goes on, really. Maybe because punk has roots in white lower-class neighborhoods, the standard is much stricter. At the end of the day, being white and lower-class has many more advantages than being poor and black. And so in order to prove that their commitment to the underground is paramount, hardcore punks have to present a much starker vision of life below the mainstream dividing line.
The D.C. hardcore scene instantly springs to mind, simply because they invented the idea of 'straight-edge' and bands like Fugazi later created the template on how to operate within the music industry with their souls intact. (The answer: all ages shows, no merch, no corporate sponsors) But this idea that you were not a good band if more than a small handful of in-the-know music lovers knew who you were spread from beyond the confines of all the local hardcore scenes and became a national phenomenon by the time the music biz decided that 'grunge' from Seattle was The Next Big Thing in the 1990s.
It was no coincidence that the year Nirvana got big was the year that Punk finally became a commodity worth trading. Since its inception, punk has been marketed for consumers. (Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood, anyone?) Along the way, various attempts were made to co-opt the trend: New Wave was the first attempt, followed by all sorts of lunacy (seeing an episode of "CHiPs where a punk band named Pain committed crimes against gridlock) and endless variations on the same thing. But we have Mr. Cobain to thank for the Final Bastardization, and as much as he pretended he didn't want to be on the cover of Rolling Stone, we all know by now that being famous was something he wanted almost as bad as Courtney Love.
Now you see kids who were BORN in 1991 wearing Misfits tees-- I confess that our son (whose middle name is Ramone, with an 'e') wore a onesy with the Ramones logo on them. The fact that he also had a Wu-Tang bib goes without comment or outrage, while some punks might be angry about the onesy, even if it was a gift and not bought with our own money. ("You should've returned it" is how I suppose the hardest core of punks would reply to that)
All of this only leads me to conclude that the whole hardcore punk notion of 'selling out' does no one any good and is, in fact, a danger to creativity.
*/*
I love De La Soul. Their first three albums fit the criterion for classic status. They are intelligent hip-hop, rap music for people who remember the promise and potential it had in the late '80s.
Each album they put out sells less than the last. Nicki Minaj has probably sold more albums in her short 15 minutes than De La has sold in their entire 20+ year career. (I like Nicki, but she has yet to produce anything as awesome as 3 Feet High & Rising) In a just world they should be in the Top 10 while rappers like Drake and Lil' Wayne should be the ones struggling to find an outlet. But things are different now, and De La's fortunes are waning as time goes on.
I can't really blame the market, though. If anything is to blame for De La's lack of popularity, it's the idea of 'selling out' that came not from hip-hop circles but from hardcore punk circles. And since De La were (and still are) the biggest proclaimers of this sellout standard in the rap game, the blame lies squarely on them. After all, they are the ones who titled their second album De La Soul Is Dead.
One factor that may explain why a group like De La is much harsher about selling out stems from their roots: middle-class, not the ghetto, not even white lower-class. They aren't punks nor are they ghetto children. They're black, but not militant. There's a rejection of privilege going on that they subscribe to, and if they were white it would not be a mysterious matter.
Unlike The Ramones, who toiled away and actually wanted to make money off their music (since they were never hardcore, even when their music got grittier and faster), De La Soul seems to be resisting the Top 40. They see the danger there. As black middle-class performers, they know that The Man and The Machine that runs entertainment will not be merciful to them. As middle-class rappers, they are anomalies... they would have a better chance at acceptance these days if they were white and poor, like Eminem.
Nevertheless, I think it's a shame that De La Soul is essentially shooting themselves in the foot because of their principles. Because as awesome as it is that they have consciences, it doesn't make up for the criminal neglect of their artistry. I really wish they'd subscribe to their genre's definitions of selling out. But if they won't, and if they're willing to stand their ground, then in the end they will be recognized as the pioneers and exemplars that they are. I just hope they are around to receive that love when its due.
Friday, May 31, 2013
The Entertained
My first post of 2013... at the end of May.
When I first started blogging ten years ago, I averaged half a million words a year. Seriously.
Now I am barely doing anything.
When I was single, I used to write with a pen, by hand, in a spiral notebook. Recently I found my notebooks again, and I stacked them on a shelf in the closet. I filled 31 notebooks easily, and that's not counting the ones I gave away, lost, destroyed, or misplaced. Also not counting the ones devoted to my endless nameless novel, which will probably never see the light of day because, frankly, I'm sick of writing it.
I think I wrote so much that this long period of inactivity is the logical result. I wrote until I could no longer write.
This is a problem, seeing as I still want to write. Being sick of it doesn't mean that I don't want to keep doing it. It just means I don't like the things I write, like I have nothing meaningful to say that hasn't already been said by others.
*/*
Working in a bookstore adds to this malaise. Every day I see the works of others, and it fills me with envy and anger. Some of it is utter trash, useless and trivial. But those works do not bother me because I feel like I am no better than they are. Maybe a little jealousy creeps in when I think that these authors whom are no better than me are famous and have money. But it doesn't bother me as much as the works of true genius that move readers to laughter and tears with the wizardry or words and lyrical imagery. There's no denying that these authors deserve the fame, the accolades, the legendary status... and that hurts me the most, because I have always felt like I could be in the elite club.
But the fact that I have not done anything to match their efforts is what really bothers me. I don't mind being a father, a husband, a Midwesterner. But I haven't done anything creative in the time I've been those things, and coupled with that feeling is a sense of disgust with the people around me. I am no longer surrounded by artists, writers, painters, musicians, actors. Instead I am surrounded by watchers, viewers, readers, listeners, appreciators.
And what's more, they are not entertained by me, because I am no longer entertaining. I am a part of them; I am of The Entertained.
*/*
My son is precious.
He doesn't care that I aspire to be creative. He just wants me to be Daddy, the one who play-wrestles on the bed, the one who makes up games and teaches him things, the one who gets him dressed in the morning and makes him something to eat and puts on his favorite DVD and kisses him goodnight and tucks him in.
Right now he is tugging at my shorts, telling me he wants me to play with him. I tell him I'm almost done. He tells me he wants me to be done now, and he rests his adorable head on my shoulder.
How can I resist that?
Maybe right now I am not ready or able to do what I want to do. But this post is proof that I am chomping at the bit, and the doldrums of docile Midwestern suburbia and Americana are fast upon me. I know that at some point I will be able to unleash what talents I have to offer, but until then I have a son who needs me to be his father.
Hell, he can't even read. What does it matter to him if I am a writer?
Maybe someday it will matter... but for now I am done.
*/*
When I first started blogging ten years ago, I averaged half a million words a year. Seriously.
Now I am barely doing anything.
When I was single, I used to write with a pen, by hand, in a spiral notebook. Recently I found my notebooks again, and I stacked them on a shelf in the closet. I filled 31 notebooks easily, and that's not counting the ones I gave away, lost, destroyed, or misplaced. Also not counting the ones devoted to my endless nameless novel, which will probably never see the light of day because, frankly, I'm sick of writing it.
I think I wrote so much that this long period of inactivity is the logical result. I wrote until I could no longer write.
This is a problem, seeing as I still want to write. Being sick of it doesn't mean that I don't want to keep doing it. It just means I don't like the things I write, like I have nothing meaningful to say that hasn't already been said by others.
*/*
Working in a bookstore adds to this malaise. Every day I see the works of others, and it fills me with envy and anger. Some of it is utter trash, useless and trivial. But those works do not bother me because I feel like I am no better than they are. Maybe a little jealousy creeps in when I think that these authors whom are no better than me are famous and have money. But it doesn't bother me as much as the works of true genius that move readers to laughter and tears with the wizardry or words and lyrical imagery. There's no denying that these authors deserve the fame, the accolades, the legendary status... and that hurts me the most, because I have always felt like I could be in the elite club.
But the fact that I have not done anything to match their efforts is what really bothers me. I don't mind being a father, a husband, a Midwesterner. But I haven't done anything creative in the time I've been those things, and coupled with that feeling is a sense of disgust with the people around me. I am no longer surrounded by artists, writers, painters, musicians, actors. Instead I am surrounded by watchers, viewers, readers, listeners, appreciators.
And what's more, they are not entertained by me, because I am no longer entertaining. I am a part of them; I am of The Entertained.
*/*
My son is precious.
He doesn't care that I aspire to be creative. He just wants me to be Daddy, the one who play-wrestles on the bed, the one who makes up games and teaches him things, the one who gets him dressed in the morning and makes him something to eat and puts on his favorite DVD and kisses him goodnight and tucks him in.
Right now he is tugging at my shorts, telling me he wants me to play with him. I tell him I'm almost done. He tells me he wants me to be done now, and he rests his adorable head on my shoulder.
How can I resist that?
Maybe right now I am not ready or able to do what I want to do. But this post is proof that I am chomping at the bit, and the doldrums of docile Midwestern suburbia and Americana are fast upon me. I know that at some point I will be able to unleash what talents I have to offer, but until then I have a son who needs me to be his father.
Hell, he can't even read. What does it matter to him if I am a writer?
Maybe someday it will matter... but for now I am done.
*/*
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