marc pietrzykowski

Reading Art Without Borders (Scharfstein), but I can’t continue until I copy out this quoted bit from Henry Glassie:

It is another message of folk art that creativity need not lead to the destruction of norms. It can be dedicated to the perfection of things as they stand. . . .Art is our birthright. We are stuck here. Alone, one by one, we are born and die. We are members of groups without which we could not survive our first day. From them we learn. To them we return our learning. And all the time beyond us flows and cracks, without question, a power not ours that we can bend but not master. Art is the way we come to grips with this and make it visible, comprehensible. Born into this mumbo jumbo world, we have a right to make art, and I call conditions good that enable us to be artists, and I condemn conditions that steal art from us. Art is the way we achieve our humanity. The enemies of art are the enemies of humankind. If they say art is a privilege of the rare talented few or the possession of prosperous white men, I say they act criminally toward their kind.

(The Spirit of Folk Art)

So, that’s why I had to stop reading for a minute and try and figure out who is on either side of that divide, since much of popular culture is not a gift of art but a theft of our own artistic determination, and of course, of our money. To my mind, when a cloud of anonymous shareholders is the determining factor in what sort of pap is thrust into the brainpans  of the public, then of course you end up with an audience trained to respond like anonymous wisps of cloud. Too many people have had their own creativity diminished, their own art stolen, by the very institutions that claim they are simply giving the audience what they want; creativity is reduced to swapping the semiotic coin of the realm with peers, chatting in some version of corporatese about the mascara sale at Eckerds, why football is great and soccer is boring, if Lady Gaga has a penis, and why the new Facebook layout sucks. But these are not sufficient, not even close, and so people grow into themselves or explode, or both.

246) Deftones: White Pony

I was so hoping they were going to cover this:

but oh well. Good anyway, nice turns and twists and most are for the sake of the song, not just to be twisty.

247) Verdi: Aida

Apparently someone made a rock opera of this Verdi monolith, Disney, I think, and then Elton John wrote the music… christ, why? is the first thing that comes to mind, then I remember that it’s Disney, in the age of regurgitation, and move on.

248) Mose Allison: The Best of Mose Allison

So damn likeable it’s almost unlikeable, but not quite, and so is fab, and I might just stick this one back in the pile so I get to listen to it a again in a few months.

249) Pamela Lucia: Into Outer Space With Pamela Lucia

Yes. Thanks, Pamela. See you there.

250) Pan Assembly: Hot Steel Music

Steel drums, that is, though there is a version of  “Iron Man” here. A good soca, and “Pan In Yuh,” which is apparently a steel drum band standard. A serious din.

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Just about finished with You Are Not A Gadget, and it continues to provoke, though there are some whopping gaps in Lanier’s various and sundry arguments, like blaming the current fashion for “retro,” mashups, and the like on the way software is written; I see the connection, but it’s pretty tenuous, and ignores all the other factors that make so much of popular culture so godawful boring, like the influence (and distributive constraints) of corporate culture, which is something that Lanier valorizes other places, claiming that the open source community could never produce an iPhone. Well, duh, but is an iPhone really revolutionary? And if so, then what does that say about our expectations for revolution? Anyhow… one thing this book has helped me think more about is mind/body dualism, as I spent around 10 years explaining to myself that the philosophical separation of mind and body was artificial, a Judeo-Christian boo-boo that Descartes helped persist into the 20th century; that mind was nothing more than an expression of body, a function of brain chemicals interacting with external stimuli. I had begun to realize, prior to reading You Are Not A Gadget, that the stories I had been telling myself about mind/body dualism were in fact a reaction to evils done in the name of dualism: the mortification and denigration of the body and of loved experience (in favor of some future state of spiritual bliss). The idea that a soul floats down (up?) into the shells of our bodies still strikes me as absurd, but there remains, despite the efforts of neuroscientists and AI researchers and the like, something decidedly ineffable in how we move from neuronal activity to thought. There is still a ghost in the machine, and yes the data keeps piling up about what brain cluster lights up when this happens or what chemicals are triggered when that occurs, but the data could be as large as the universe and we still will not have explained human consciousness, perhaps because we are asking the wrong questions, using the wrong languages… but it makes me happy, the idea that I’ve been thinking in the wrong direction for 10 years or so; it makes me happy because now I get to think a different way about the problem, which is in itself a pleasing sensation, but moreso because acknowledging that that nature of our time in these bodies is largely a mystery is somehow delightful, and even liberating.

241) Ultra-Lounge, V6: Rhapsodia

I never went head-over-heels for the lounge revival of the 90’s, maybe because I already listened to a lot of this stuff already: Julie London is so nice when you are hungover… so, not sure where I got this CD, but it’s a very serviceable mix, though I could do without the Muzzy Marcellino.

242) Housemartins: The Best of the Housemartins

Up Hull! Such an odd voice, Pual Heaton, instantly distinguishable. I never knew Fatboy Slim was in the band for a while…

243) Split Enz: True Colors

Makes sense this would follow the Housemartins; was I looking for nasally singers from more obscure parts of the British Empire at some point? (Hull and New Zealand). Not my favorite Split Enz, but I am a fan, and “Shark Attack” is pretty great, and of course “I Got You.”

244) Jurassic 5: Power In Numbers

If there wasn’t so much godawful hip-hop coming out in the mid-90’s and early 00’s, Jurassic 5 would not have gotten so much hype, methinks. They are a fine hip-hop collective, but very uneven (a good editor sure would help), both musically and lyrically. Still worth owning to throw into a shuffle…

245) Wu Tang Clan: Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)

Wu Tang’s version of “I Am Curious, Yellow.” Alright, it’s great. Still makes me think of Kool Keith “Why are you looking hard with a hood on and Timberland boots, / staring at me for one hour – / – when you could walk up and shake my hand? Why? /Why are you making those mean faces in your videos with the fish lens effects? Why?.”

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I’m working my way through Jaron Lanier’s You Are Not A Gadget, a gaggle of essays and blog length bits oriented around the idea that much of the internet, thanks to things like Facebook and Twitter and other “web 2.0″ applications (including, importantly, the whole idea of cloud computing) has become an exercise in groupthink. I’m very inclined to agree, even as I type these words into a textbox made by WordPress… but I’m not sure the software is so much the point, except in as much as the way software is written encourages us to think and shape our personalities in reductive, fragmented ways (which also sounds about right). Social networking sites should allow for more individual expression, certainly, but the software is too brittle, from UNIX on, to encourage anything but conformity, which in turn encourages more conformity. I think that is the thrust of his opening arguments, but the book is written in fragments too, which almost seems like one of those parlor game lit theory ideas from the 1970’s and 80’s, Derrida “resisting” meaning through intentionally avoiding meaning, jumbling up the text as a means for resisting the “linear”–but I just think that’s how Lanier organizes things, like a programmer would, into modules of meaning. Perhaps I will know better when I’m done, and the book requires careful reading, lest you sound like this dolt , who makes the old “if it’s too loud, you’re too old” argument and sounds like a preening teen on American Bandstand. In fact, Agger (the dolt) actually helps prove Lanier’s point by reflexively, and with little depth, attacking any critique of the “hive mind” romantic and undemocratic. Decisions made by a mass of anonymous folks are NOT democratic decisions. Gary Kasparov commented in a recent article that more and more, chess masters are playing the way a computer would play, because they are trained by computers, but who wants to watch 2 computers play chess? Or, have a computer program that describes the outcome of a baseball game, rather than actually watching the game… or that makes music, or any one of the manifold human activities that are interesting because of how they deviate from the norm, not because of how the hive anoints them.

237) Animal Collective: Strawberry Jam

Interesting enough noises and production stuff, but not much to the songwriting, and no soul that I can see, not even digital soul… not sure what the hype is about, except that people confuse production values with song quality quite a bit (see: movies that are CGI experiments).

238) Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds: Abattoir Blues/The Lyre of Orpheus

Also some great production here, but production meant to emphasize a great set of songs, interesting, dynamic, challenging songs, rather than production being an end to itself. Try playing “Hiding All the Way” at your local bar during happy hour, you will be much loved.

239) Minutemen: Double Nickles on the Dime

Still pretty stunning, twenty years and hundreds of listens later. If you are a musician and don’t dig this, you need to go back to school.

240) N.E.R.D: Fly Or Die

And again, production as the key to the kingdom… 2 or 3 good songs, and a lot of wallpaper. Wallpaper is fine, I just don’t want to stare it for long peroids of time.

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That’s interesting, I posted a link to a review David Blaine did of my 2nd book here, and the whole post appeared automatically as a comment under the review on the outsiderwriters website. They must also be using WordPress too, I guess?

unhappy hipsters.

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Ok, maybe not so shameless… review of my book #2 at outsiderwriters.org.

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So says Joseph Beuys, via Ben-Ami Scharfstein; I’d never heard of Beuys until I started reading Scharfstein’s Art Without Borders, which is a tremendously exciting book for an number of reasons but especially because of the above premise: everyone is artistic all the time, we are constantly creating and interpreting, always using artifice, nothing “as it is” because we are fundamentally incapable of “as it is,” as Scharfstein puts is, “nothing made by human minds or hands, nor any human act, is without its aesthetic origin or aura.” We recognize and appreciate great art because we recognize the action of our own beings within it, and in recognizing and appreciating, we collaborate in an ongoing act of creation. Not a new idea, of course… might well be the oldest idea. That’s why the delivery system matters, why seemingly arcane hipster dithering like this essay actually do mean more than they appear to, because the way we learn to engage art shapes how we are artistic on a daily basis; if someone learns that only art that emerges from corporate massaging is worthwhile, then they are likely to make their own daily art the same way, they will move through their lives the same way an idea moves through a corporate boardroom. I remember reading an interview with the guitarist for Rage Against the Machine who answered the very valid critique that their band sold political revolution through the marketing of a multi-national corporation by saying something like, “well, they’re just like an investment bank, we take their money to make our music and they get a return on their investment, and because we are anti-corporate, we are subverting them.” That’s why you should not ask rock stars to speak. In any case, it does matter what gallery your work is in, what journal, what boombox, what ballfield, and not just because some charge more. Corporate art makes for people who live corporate lives, which are not lives at all.

Oh yeah, and more CDs:

232) Captain Sensible: The Best Of

“Jet Boy, Jet Girl.” Ha. And yes, “Wot” and “Glad It’s All Over” and “Happy Talk” and the rest, but “Jet Boy, Jet Girl” always makes me smile, so rude and catchy… I’m kinda surprised it hasn’t replaced “YMCA” at sporting events.

233) Van Morrison: Veedon Fleece

Ok, “Jet Boy, Jet Girl” makes me laugh, this CD makes me glad the wind exists, that wine exists, that I got to spend some time in this world. Van has about 6 or 7 CDs that do this for me…

234) Sparklehorse: It’s A Wonderful Life

Not sure why Sparklehorse hasn’t come close to making a recording this good since; even the collaboration with Dangermouse is not so striking as this. Perhaps they only have the one idea? It works here, anyhow–I mean, check out “Little Fat Baby”:

235) Beastie Boys: Check Your Head

Checked. It ain’t Paul’s Boutique, but then neither is Paul’s Boutique.

236) Sham 69: Best Of

Some good punk songwriting, some throwaway junk, plenty of opportunity to bellow and throw pint glasses at your best friend.

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Count me among the surprised: the Flaming Lips’ full album cover of Dark Side of the Moon is excellent, and having Henry Rollins do the spoken bits is a stroke of genius. Is this a piece of art that future generations will look back on and find relevant? I’m not sure that question has much steam anymore, though I have been thinking about it quite a lot; I enjoy reading Catullus and the Enûma Eliš, sure, but I question, more or less daily, the wisdom of spending my time placing symbols in a row in the hopes of giving someone else a bit of joy or horror or what have you. But then I’ve just answered my own half-formed question: why bother to write, or make music or paint or any other art, when everything is on fire and even the finest, most sturdy bits of artifice are already turning to ash? Well, because of other people. There would be no muse if there was no audience, no reason to extrude into other’s minds, give them bits of meaning to play with and build their own thing with…. artists who claim the art is all, that they could give a fig for what their audience thinks, are full of shit. I must create art, I cannot live well (or at all, perhaps) without doing so, but this need is absolutely predicated on the existence of other minds whom I think might find what I create interesting. And so the question of the durability of an artistic endeavor is a red herring; I have no  control over the cultural machinery that will decide what counts as art 500, 1000 years from now, if there are even people alive then to compose the machinery. The whole high/low art distinction was one product of cultural machinery, as was the supposed destruction of this distinction by cultural theorists; unlike these theorists, however, I think find it important to distinguish between Art, which, to my mind, challenges its audience and tries to reveal something deeply resonant about existence, and not-Art, which does not seek to challenge its audience and seeks to communicate only the most trite truisms. So, the Flaming Lips cover of The Dark Side of the Moon does challenge the listener, and raises all sorts of questions about authorship, but it doesn’t do a lot more than that. It is interesting, though not great, Art. It might become great if I listen to it several more times, however; there is a distinct tendancy, in the informavore age, to listen or view or read quickly and without much care, regarding each attempt at art as one voice in an ongoing stream of voices trying to prove their relevance. Great art should command our attention, of course, but much that is great will escape us if our ability to pay attention is too tightly defined by the cultural machine, and we are too lazy or lost or frightened to learn to change it.

228) Graham Parsons: Grievous Angel

When an artist dies young, the reservoir of unfulfilled potential we assume exists spills out and colors the work they did produce; if this is a distortion, then maybe it is an acceptable distortion, I don’t know. I do know that there are 1/2 dozen great songs here, some good ones, and some drek; on the whole, I prefer his covers of other folks to his own compostions (“Big Mouth Blues” I love, though).

229) The Clash: Combat Rock

Straight to Hell, boys.

230) The Psychedlic Furs: All of This and Nothing

A few hits on here, but as is often the case, the non-hits are better, like the title track, and “Imitation of Christ” (was that a hit? Can’t see how…)

231) Warren Zevon: The Wind

Ok, I guess playing “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door” makes sense here; I thought Guns ‘n’ Roses had permanently killed that song for me, but Warren brought it back. Thanks. “Rub Me Raw” is great, too, and of course, this one:

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I just got the joke, the title of the “Sally Forth” comic is a play on words… I’m so sad it took me so long to figure out. I’m a terrible person. I have listened to may CDs and recorded their listening not at all, but here it is, an arbitrary line of demarcation between past and present, and a little future, so why not just list the huge backlog, no musing, no blurbing, no high heat? Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

212) everything but the girl: Worldwide -=-   213) Sally Timms: In the World of Him (o johnny) -=- 214) Van Morrison: Down the Road -=-   215) Randy Newman: Creates Something New Under the Sun -=-  216) Mazzy Star: So Tonight That I Might See -=-   217) Patti Smith: Gone Again (rock the fuck on) -=- 218) Amy Ray: Stag -=-  219) Sarah Lee Guthrie and Johnny Irion: Exploration (nice start)  -=-  220) Richard and Linda Thompson: I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight (and I’m a gonna)  -=-   221) Talking Heads: Stop Making Sense -=-   222) Rev. Horton Heat: Holy Roller -=-   223) Portishead: Portishead -=-  224) James Carr: The Complete Goldwax Singles -=-   225) Echo and the Bunnymen: Songs To Learn and Sing (jukebox!) -=- 226) Squirrel Nut Zippers: Perrenial Favorites -=-   227) MIA: Kala (teach us how to listen).          Next year! ?

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No, not crunk. Clunk. The sound of a shoe hitting the floor, onomatopoeiacally speaking, or of a coin dropped through the slit in a wooden offering box; I like how “clunky” has become a visual adjective as well. Perhaps the word also refers to the past tense of Werner Klemperer’s most famous character… also, metaphorically, clunk is the sound my plan to write about the Sandy Denny box set has made, since one of the discs is not in the box! OCD emergency! Oh well, I’ll get caught up on some strays and do another box set once I catch up, and I’m sure to find the Denny CD as I go onward through the CD fog.

208) Kate Bush: The Sensual World

I think I can understand why people wouldn’t dig Kate’s voice, it is pretty high in the register, and is also warbly, and sounds at times like a room full of crepe paper. But I like all those things just fine, and she writes really interesting, challenging, occasionally pompous songs, so what the hell. And, this CD allowed Maxwell to make one of the best cover versions ever.

209) Paris Combo: living room

Whoo-boppa! Gypsyish jazz from France, a little Django, a little Edith, and, of course, modern haircuts. Fun to dance to, songwriting a little too derivative to be considered wonderful.

210) Macy Gray: On How Life Is

I also can understand how folks might not dig Macy’s voice, sometimes it sounds like she’s faking it, the tone is cartoonish. But I dig it, and she can write a good song when she doesn’t get lost in the smokey production room cuteness…

211) Oingo Boingo: Anthology

Punk/New Wave was an opportunity many folks leapt at, the doors were thrown open to weirdness, even as a set of conventions emerged… which explains groups like Oingo Boingo, who had absolutely nothing to do with, say, the Dead Kennedys, but they got out through the same doorway. That door, the record company embrace of artistic exploration, is shut now, but people are beginning to notice that the wall the door sits in is just a stage set, and you need simply walk around it and see the fields beyond.

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Well, I suppose there’s nothing to cut, but I really should improve my woeful posting rate. Just finished Chris Hedges Empire Of Illusion, yet another screed that I find myself agreeing with in spirit, but that glosses over so many particulars that it makes me questions my own reasons for wanting to agree. Much like Barber’s Consumed, Hedges’ book attacks the way US society is growing more compartmentalized, asocial, and vapid at the same time, and while Illusion is much tighter than Barber’s book, it’s surprisingly a-historical and oddly selective in its choice of targets: porn, professional wrestling, ivy league universities, positive psychology… and like so many of the voices bemoaning the collapse of our Democracy, his solution is vague enough to be a bit embarrassing: we should love each other more. Well, yes, but… we should also dislike each other better, I think. Maybe I should write a book like that, since I fault all these other authors so much. But in rhyming couplets.

Got some newish poems up here: tinfoildresses, mine are near the bottom.

I’ve been listening to my box set (reward for getting to  #200), Sandy Denny, such lovely music, but I hjave a pile of single CDs here that I really should blog before I forget, and I want to listen to Sandy some more. So…

205) UB40: Labor of Love II

Robin Campbell’s voice can be grating is you are in the wrong mood; for some reason, it sounds like urine hitting cold water to me. But I like peeing, so–I often like UB40, though this isn’t quite my favorite collection. Still pleasant, squeaky clean, reggaeish fun.

206) The Knotwells: Blood River Melodies

My friend John played drums on this disc, a thrash-folk rave-up of sorts, several really excellent songs and several moods pieces that fill in the gaps–except the mood, in this case, is wine addled hipster disillusionment. Rock on! Folk on?

207) The Damned: The Best Of

There’s a lot of the Damned worth exploring, and a whole lot of shite, but this grouping is pretty strong–I really want to go sing “Jet Boy, Jet Girl” on the sidewalk at the next Molson Canal Concert thing in Lockport. Look for me, I’ll be by the tower, getting my ass kicked by the junior high lacross team.

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