Stultitia Delenda Est

Then there is ‘class’ science, or the ‘class approach’ to science–the tragic and grotesque inheritance of Lenin. There is no doubt that Lenin was a genius of political organization, of subversion, of manipulation. But perhaps the essential part of his bequest–unwitting, maybe–is the unacknowledged(at times–at other times fully acknowledged) Führerprinzip that permeates the entire structure of the Party and eventually of society. Power in such a structure emanates from the führer, the leader, el lider, duce, chairman, whatever his title may be. It willy-nilly begets lesser führers, not only in the political sphere but in all branches and walks of life. Participating in the power from above, most of them succumb to the illusion that the source of power is also the source of infallible wisdom–scientifically infallible wisdom–and that they participate in this wisdom as well. And so it happens that the führer likes a charlatan dabbler in genetics who dislikes the founder of genetics, ergo the founder could not have been a scientist, ergo the science based on his theories is a nonscience: a bourgeois science. Or the führer is not fond of syncopation, ergo the only good jazz is one without syncopes.

In essence, this is a vulgarized form of the scholastic method of referring to the auctoritates. In the Middle Ages it produced such curious situations as the mandatory belief in the horses’ heart being in its right side, contrary to the evidence of the battlefield, because Aristotle taught so. Its Soviet form, as Starr notes, leads often to devising elaborate arguments intended to prove that the führer’s dislike of an instrument’s timbre is a scientific assessment of that timbre’s decadent nature directly attributable to the disintegration of the outdated bourgeois Weltanschauung. The history of Soviet jazz is, therefore, also the story of incredible, of absurd meanderings of the ideologue’s ‘scientific’ false consciousness.

Josef Škvorecký, “Talkin’ Moscow Blues”, as reprinted in the collection of the same name.

Proof that such “science” occurs, indeed could only occur, in benighted Soviet Republics et al. is left as an exercise to the reader.

Tangentially related to my last post (John Roderick and Sean Nelson are long-time collaborators), here’s John Roderick talking about the provenance of his song “Carparts” and playing an awesome acoustic version of it:

John Roderick – Carparts from Adam Pranica on Vimeo.

“Run it up the flagpole and see who salutes, but no one ever does”

Of all the great bands that ended their careers, declared an end to their discography, and went their separate ways, I think that the one I miss the most is Harvey Danger. They were criminally underrated during their career, and while they did get some good measure of popularity with “Flagpole Sitta”, they never got recognized for what they truly were: one of the cleverest and most artful bands of the past 20 years. They were a unique voice in American music and it’s sad that that voice never got the broad audience it deserved.

“I think I get it.”

For me, the sound of Harvey Danger will always be a comfort, a relief, and an invigorating thrill. Their whole discography feels like a great inside joke, all the more hilarious because I feel like the only ones who get it are me and my stereo. Of course, as someone (I honestly don’t recall who), said, the problem with singers is that they say that to all the girls. And so it’s not really my inside joke; it belongs to anyone who cares to listen.

But Nelson’s wry lyrics embedded in the band’s flawless, hooky compositions make make it feel listening to the rantings of a dear and clever friend.

“Edith cannot fix another engine”

Listen to the shuffling snares, the building composition, and then pay special attention to guitarist Jeff Lin’s solo guitar solo, leading right up into one of my favorite lines in any song ever: “Give it a rest / a give it a rest / a give it a bad night’s sleep”

But also just watch the video. Nelson and co. are artists of the first degree, and I think that’s genuinely reflected in the video. I know Sean Nelson is an actor and cinemaphile, and I think his eye is displayed well in the way the band are passively involved in mini psychodrama of a woman’s unfulfilled aspirations. If it weren’t a music video, one might be almost tempted to think that it were real, proper, capital-A-Art.

But of course it is. And that’s the real tragedy here. Here’s some real art that evokes universal, existential, human pains and does it with consummate craft. But most folks only know the band as “those guys who did ‘I’m Not Sick, But I’m Not Well’ or whatever it’s called.”

“I am a rrrazor, please cut your wrrrists with me”

I sometimes wonder what to make of the correlation that some of my favorite bands and most personally influential bands started with people with little to no musical experience. After all, Evan Sult and Sean Nelson supposedly had no musical experience when they joined up with Jeff Lin and Aaron Huffman. The Germs had no songs prepared and could barely play their instruments when they did their first live show at the Orpheum. Supposedly, they were unceremoniously thrown off the stage after five minutes, but not before Darby Crash stuck the mic in a jar of peanut butter.

Of course the tempting stock answer is to say that music born out of a desire to make music first, and let technical skills come later is pretty unsatisfying. After all, we never get to hear the bands of the make-music-first sorts who fail. And there’s a lot of people out there with spotless technical pedigrees who make great music.

So if it’s not a question of authenticity, then maybe the bands that had the disadvantage of musical inexperience had to survive on something else until they’re technical skills developed. Harvey Danger had passion, good humor, and one of the best lyricists in modern music. The Germs were well versed in starting riots.

“I figured wrong, with a capital R”

Of course the simplest explanation is that there’s really no correlation at all. Josef Skvorecky said that “Art is art because nobody has yet quite grasped the art of doing it.” So it is with music. There’s no sure formula for music that sets the soul alight, either in the general case or for a particular audience or listener. Despite the best efforts of the music labels from the 50s through the late 90s, one cannot repeatably create good music with fixed curricula.

And so good music comes from the technically proficient and well-schooled, but it also comes from the college kids saying, “hey, let’s buy some instruments and start a band.”

But no matter the roots of the band, they all come to an end eventually. The author John Green said that all relationships end in break up divorce or death. The same is true for bands, except that the divorces are called “solo careers”.

So in the end, the show must eventually not go on.

So I’m still playing catch up from my trip to Hawaii. The trip was awesome and I’ll probably post about it in the near future. In the meantime, here’s some links to tide you over until Real Content^TM gets going again.

In the meantime, here’s two excellent covers of Skrillex’s “Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites”, the first of which comes via my friend Jonathan:

As I mentioned to Jonathan when he sent the video along, I think that version is begging for a House remix.

The second comes via stumbling through related videos on YouTube:

And now, for auditory comparison, here’s the original:

I don’t mind Skrillex, honestly, but I have to confess, I like both covers a lot more than the original.

Video NSFWNS (Neither Safe For Work Nor Sanity)

Rediscovered this song today. I’ve forgotten how much it kills me every time I listen to it.

This video massively increases my respect for Vanilla Ice:

Via my friend Ann and Stereogum.

Thesis: Take any video and give it a Glitch Mob soundtrack, and the subject matter instantly becomes 112% cooler. Case in point? Manatees:

Sirenia Shadows from Built By Wildman on Vimeo.

Video via io9 and my good friend Ann.

The most frustrating sort of song is that which is perfect, save for the fact that it’s far too short. This is a fantastic theme, beautifully composed and performed, and then left criminally underdeveloped.

Still: those Fastbacks sure knew how to make a pop tune.