...Is the way people tend to define music by racial categories. And I don't just mean the people who think of rap as "black music," though that is obviously a major instance. The white counterpart to that one, I suppose, is certain aspects of rock. Obviously, people remember black rockers like Hendrix, Chuck Berry, and Bo Diddley, but it seems that people assume that later stuff (post '70s) became the sole province of white guys. And, true enough, there's not a whole lot of black metal-heads, but it still shouldn't be defined in that way.
But the one that bothers me the most is the idea that white men playing blues are doing something wrong, or being tacky or something. For instance, Pitchfork Media says of Guy Blakeslee: "His white blues jones... at best was a hard sell, at worst insufferable." I really don't see the reasoning behind that. Yes, the blues started with black musicians in the Mississippi Delta, but classical music started in Europe, and I think that anyone who claimed that an African-American violinist was "insufferable" would be very quickly shouted down. Please don't misunderstand: I am not interested in discussing any double standards, real or imaginary, in race relations. I am only interested in defending my right to enjoy my favorite genre of music. After all, the blues itself claims ancestry in both European and African musical styles, and its primary instruments (guitar, harmonica, and piano) have origins in Europe. That's part of what makes it so appealing: the ubiquity of blue notes and call-and-response structures are taken from African music, and some melodic and instrumental elements come from folk music of North America. It's a collaborative sort of musical style.
In closing, I just want to point out the fact that many modern musical genres owe a great deal to the blues- rock, R&B, hip-hop, some sub-genres of folk- and that, if it's okay to be interested in those styles of music, it should also be alright to be interested in their common ancestor. I've never heard someone argue that it was "insufferable" for white people to love rock, and I don't like hearing it about blues.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
The Jordan Monopoly
A recent post on Free Darko made use of the term "post post-Jordan." I thought about that for a while, and I think it's a very useful insight into the current state of the NBA.
That Michael Jordan changed the nature of the beast is undeniable. That his legacy has been beneficial to the league is questionable. In the wake of Jordan, every team naturally wanted to find a doppelganger for him: a viciously competitive, relentlessly clutch, athletically dominant perimeter player with will and skill enough to force his way to victory. We have seen a number of these kind of experiments, from McGrady, to Carter, to Bryant. Their success has been, como se dice, "up and down." True, Bryant has almost a fistful of rings, but he never did it in quite the same manner as Jordan- Jordan had a Pippen, not a Shaq or Pau (I'm not trying to suggest that Gasol is better than Pippen, just to highlight the lack of a dominant post presence in the Jordan-era Bulls). Even someone like KG is a product of the search for the neo-Jordan: he is a ferocious defender, used to be incredibly athletic, has great mental toughness and will, and... has an offensive game that probably took away from his maximum utility. Honestly, the man is very nearly seven feet tall and his primary move is a turnaround jumper. His post moves are almost non-existent. You can't tell me that this has nothing to do with the idealization of guard play during Garnett's formative years.
Meanwhile, the latest batch of exciting players have been far different- Rajon Rondo, whose jump shot could be kindly described as "lacking," Dwight Howard, who is dramatically incomplete as a player, but interesting nonetheless, Chris Paul, an agile, electric combination of the pure passing point guard and the AI type, and, yes, LeBron, whose skills are good but overshadowed by his simply psychotic athleticism. These are the post-post-Jordan players, and they are far more intriguing than their immediate predecessors.
The post-Jordan types were simply an attempt to recreate the one player proven to be most effective in the league's history, a freakish amalgam of skills, character traits, and innate gifts that will, in all likelihood, not be resurfacing any time soon. The new guys are quite different: they represent a new mindset for many teams, who are willing to pursue what actually appears, instead of attempting to manufacture what has disappeared. If the post-Jordan players were (to varying degrees) failed attempts to find one man capable of dominating all facets of the game, the post-post-Jordan crew consists of players willing to embrace their highly specific talents in creative and effective ways. The last generation of stars represents homogenization, the new, diversification of talent.
That Michael Jordan changed the nature of the beast is undeniable. That his legacy has been beneficial to the league is questionable. In the wake of Jordan, every team naturally wanted to find a doppelganger for him: a viciously competitive, relentlessly clutch, athletically dominant perimeter player with will and skill enough to force his way to victory. We have seen a number of these kind of experiments, from McGrady, to Carter, to Bryant. Their success has been, como se dice, "up and down." True, Bryant has almost a fistful of rings, but he never did it in quite the same manner as Jordan- Jordan had a Pippen, not a Shaq or Pau (I'm not trying to suggest that Gasol is better than Pippen, just to highlight the lack of a dominant post presence in the Jordan-era Bulls). Even someone like KG is a product of the search for the neo-Jordan: he is a ferocious defender, used to be incredibly athletic, has great mental toughness and will, and... has an offensive game that probably took away from his maximum utility. Honestly, the man is very nearly seven feet tall and his primary move is a turnaround jumper. His post moves are almost non-existent. You can't tell me that this has nothing to do with the idealization of guard play during Garnett's formative years.
Meanwhile, the latest batch of exciting players have been far different- Rajon Rondo, whose jump shot could be kindly described as "lacking," Dwight Howard, who is dramatically incomplete as a player, but interesting nonetheless, Chris Paul, an agile, electric combination of the pure passing point guard and the AI type, and, yes, LeBron, whose skills are good but overshadowed by his simply psychotic athleticism. These are the post-post-Jordan players, and they are far more intriguing than their immediate predecessors.
The post-Jordan types were simply an attempt to recreate the one player proven to be most effective in the league's history, a freakish amalgam of skills, character traits, and innate gifts that will, in all likelihood, not be resurfacing any time soon. The new guys are quite different: they represent a new mindset for many teams, who are willing to pursue what actually appears, instead of attempting to manufacture what has disappeared. If the post-Jordan players were (to varying degrees) failed attempts to find one man capable of dominating all facets of the game, the post-post-Jordan crew consists of players willing to embrace their highly specific talents in creative and effective ways. The last generation of stars represents homogenization, the new, diversification of talent.
Jimmy vs. Jimi: A Rankly Amateur Perspective
If you talk to someone knowledgeable about popular rock'n'roll music throughout the last half century or so, odds are they will identify one of the following three men as the best (mainstream) rock guitarist: Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix, or Jimmy Page. Now, I think that Clapton, while good, is overrated. I think I have mentioned this before.
Despite my ever-increasing interest in and knowledge of more obscure music- at least, that's the current trend- I remain a classic-rock and blues fan at heart. Which leaves me to decide between the homophone brothers as the undisputed king (to clarify: a homophone is a word that sounds identical to another, as distinct from a homonym, which is the same word with at least two meanings. All this to say that "Jimmy" and "Jimi" sound the same without being spelled the same).
The way I see it, the talent level is virtually identical. Many gush about Hendrix as though his playing was head and shoulders above all others, but that's simply a mistake. To me, this is the essential difference: the unique thing about Hendrix is that his playing often makes me forget I'm hearing a string instrument; the unique thing about Page is that his playing often makes me hyper-aware that I'm hearing a string instrument. At times, Hendrix's guitar sounds stop registering as "guitar" and simply become "sounds." Weird, intriguing, fluid sounds. Hendrix was legendary as a sonic innovator, doing all that he could to broaden the scope of the attack. I am thinking of the last minute and a half of "All Along the Watchtower" in particular, but a lot of other songs apply.
By way of contrast, Page's contributions to the rock sound came primarily in his production, with his ambient miking and reverse-echo recording techniques. His playing itself was surprisingly orthodox: a great deal of pure blues with varying levels of distortion. The genius of his riffs is their groove, weight, and staggering feel. However, his soloing is another matter. Page was a pioneer of guitar soloing, employing traditional blues feel in wild, fast, and innovative ways- Eddie Van Halen cites Page's "Heartbreaker" solo (heavy on hammer-ons and wild finger work) as a major influence on his own two-hand tapping methods. And this is exactly where Page makes me so intensely aware of the nature of a guitar. When I hear his solos- especially "Since I've Been Loving You," "Achilles Last Stand," and "Whole Lotta Love"- I can't help but think about fingers fretting, bending, and shifting. By contrast, Hendrix makes me think of the undoubtedly hilarious reaction spaced-out hippies must have had to his seemingly impossible sounds.
Ultimately, I would be remiss not to comment on the fact that I have no real right to judge between the two- I'm not even a guitarist (I just play one on the internet). And so, I'm content to leave the issue of "best" undecided, and simply declare Page to be my favorite. Psychedelia is nice now and again, but the blues is home. In closing, I will quote Dave Grohl, who once said "Jimi Hendrix was a genius on fire... Jimmy Page was a genius possessed." Apt, and much more succinct than this was.
Despite my ever-increasing interest in and knowledge of more obscure music- at least, that's the current trend- I remain a classic-rock and blues fan at heart. Which leaves me to decide between the homophone brothers as the undisputed king (to clarify: a homophone is a word that sounds identical to another, as distinct from a homonym, which is the same word with at least two meanings. All this to say that "Jimmy" and "Jimi" sound the same without being spelled the same).
The way I see it, the talent level is virtually identical. Many gush about Hendrix as though his playing was head and shoulders above all others, but that's simply a mistake. To me, this is the essential difference: the unique thing about Hendrix is that his playing often makes me forget I'm hearing a string instrument; the unique thing about Page is that his playing often makes me hyper-aware that I'm hearing a string instrument. At times, Hendrix's guitar sounds stop registering as "guitar" and simply become "sounds." Weird, intriguing, fluid sounds. Hendrix was legendary as a sonic innovator, doing all that he could to broaden the scope of the attack. I am thinking of the last minute and a half of "All Along the Watchtower" in particular, but a lot of other songs apply.
By way of contrast, Page's contributions to the rock sound came primarily in his production, with his ambient miking and reverse-echo recording techniques. His playing itself was surprisingly orthodox: a great deal of pure blues with varying levels of distortion. The genius of his riffs is their groove, weight, and staggering feel. However, his soloing is another matter. Page was a pioneer of guitar soloing, employing traditional blues feel in wild, fast, and innovative ways- Eddie Van Halen cites Page's "Heartbreaker" solo (heavy on hammer-ons and wild finger work) as a major influence on his own two-hand tapping methods. And this is exactly where Page makes me so intensely aware of the nature of a guitar. When I hear his solos- especially "Since I've Been Loving You," "Achilles Last Stand," and "Whole Lotta Love"- I can't help but think about fingers fretting, bending, and shifting. By contrast, Hendrix makes me think of the undoubtedly hilarious reaction spaced-out hippies must have had to his seemingly impossible sounds.
Ultimately, I would be remiss not to comment on the fact that I have no real right to judge between the two- I'm not even a guitarist (I just play one on the internet). And so, I'm content to leave the issue of "best" undecided, and simply declare Page to be my favorite. Psychedelia is nice now and again, but the blues is home. In closing, I will quote Dave Grohl, who once said "Jimi Hendrix was a genius on fire... Jimmy Page was a genius possessed." Apt, and much more succinct than this was.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Football's Progressive Conservatism
For once, Chuck Klosterman reading has led me to do a post not related to music- he just wrote an article about football that was quite good. I think I'll be buying the new book.
His thesis was that football has "conservative values" alongside liberal tendencies, and that this explains the overwhelming popularity of the sport in America. I can kind of see his point: while its schemes, technology, and rules change rapidly, its self-image always revolves around the idea of blue-collared tough guys who are nevertheless morally upstanding. I should note that these archetypes are more stereotypical than typical: conservatism does not depend on anti-intellectualism and obscurantism any more than liberalism depends on aimless innovation.
I can see some other connections, too. For instance, even as the rate of passing plays continues to rise (hardly any teams run more often than pass anymore, as even Pittsburgh now passes upwards of thirty times per game), the personalities around the game continue to insist on the vital importance of the running game. Now, I don't believe that these people are wrong- a successful running game remains the surest method of controlling the ball and, by extension, the game- but it's an almost schizophrenic situation, in which the game is thriving on pass-heavy offenses but claims to be as run-oriented as ever.
Even more intriguing is football's bizarre social structure: while it is certainly the faces of the teams who receive the most attention, financial and otherwise- quarterbacks, receivers, running backs- there are frequent celebrations of the faceless. The left tackle, for instance, is one of the most highly paid players in the game these days, as is his primary antagonist, the right defensive end. In fact, the even more obscure defensive tackle has had a minor renaissance over the last few years, with the play of Kris Jenkins, Albert Haynesworth, Vince Wilfork, and others garnering national attention. Periodically, the offensive line as a gestalt is praised- the "vaguely Marxist" collective (as described by Michael Lewis in The Blind Side) of largely anonymous laborers sometimes take center stage in media. The rhetoric of football especially praises them, declaring the trenches to be the most critical location on the field. Again, I believe that this is in fact correct, but it is the sort of observation that requires more focus and expertise than the typical football fan is likely to have.
In no other sport are the subtleties simultaneously explained and mysterious- while the typical fan, thanks to the efforts of commentators and writers, knows the huge importance of line play, he remains largely uneducated with regards to the mechanics of it. It is very rare for such a person to blame anyone except the closest lineman should a defender sack the passer, despite the fact that a number of other factors could be and often are the true reason for the result (whether a blown assignment by a teammate, a missed read by the quarterback, or simply a slow-developing play). Almost all the rules of the game tilt the field in favor of defensive linemen (the ability to change positions before the snap, the ability to rip, swim, and grab cloth, etc.), so the speed of the passing game is hugely important in their performances: anything more than four seconds is a very long time to hold off a three hundred-plus pound athletic man who can do more to you than you can to him and who can actually see the location of the ball.
Another interesting phenomenon is this: centers and tackles, on average, have the highest IQ scores of any players on the field, followed by quarterbacks, middle linebackers, guards, and then a pretty random assortment afterward. So, the most intelligent players tend to play the offensive line. However, the instructions to the offensive line are often quite simplistic, especially with zone-blocking schemes (it essentially boils down to "protect this patch of dirt"). Meanwhile, defensive linemen, ostensibly the less intelligent men, are given more complicated instructions on average- twists, stunts, gap protections, etc. How do we explain this? Why does the simple offensive line need more intelligence than the chaotic defensive line? Because the offense's primary intellectual responsibility is to respond to the complexity of the defense: it requires analysis-on-the-fly capabilities, whereas the defender simply needs to remember and execute his basic responsibility- go here at this time and by this route. After that, his assigned duty is done, and he has complete freedom to perform his particular duty that play (usually a simple pursuit of the ball).
My last observation is this: no team plays up its blue-collar simplicity and toughness quite like the Steelers, although some of the Midwestern teams come close (Vikings, Packers, Bears). Pittsburgh bills itself as a brutal running team with a vicious defense. However, since the departure of certain key running offense personnel (Jerome Bettis, Alan Faneca, and Jeff Hartings, primarily), the offense has revolved increasingly around Ben Roethlisberger, Santonio Holmes, and Hines Ward (although, in fairness, he is one of the few receivers who could be said to be key to a running game). Pittsburgh now passes as much as any other team, largely due to the inefficacy of Willie Parker and the patchwork offensive line, with Rashard Mendenhall's recent emergence being an unknown factor going forward. We'll see where that goes.
The defense, meanwhile, is even more complicated and contradictory: far from simple, Dick LeBeau's schemes are downright byzantine in their intricacy, with zone blitzes, deception, and discipline being more important to it than blind aggression or even athleticism. Even so, the majority of the defensive personnel is, in fact, that way- James Harrison and LaMarr Woodley are two of the most intimidating specimens at linebacker in the league, the defensive backs rank among the hardest hitting in the game, and the defensive line is one of the meanest and strongest around. But even the base formation, the 3-4, carries the rightful reputation of being a cerebral and unorthodox system. The modern game began with and still embraces the 4-3, but the defenses with the best reputation for toughness over the last decade- New England's from its title runs, Baltimore's, and Pittsburgh's- have all used four linebackers.
As football increasingly focuses on the most colorful and innovative actions, its rhetoric and its figureheads continue to emphasize the nuts and bolts of the game, and its anti-climactic features: its defense, which exists for the sole purpose of preventing action; the offensive linemen, who exist to prevent even defensive action; and the running game, which derives most of its benefit from the fact that it uses up time without allowing a high amount of play. Contradictory? Yes. Confusing? At times. American? Undoubtedly.
His thesis was that football has "conservative values" alongside liberal tendencies, and that this explains the overwhelming popularity of the sport in America. I can kind of see his point: while its schemes, technology, and rules change rapidly, its self-image always revolves around the idea of blue-collared tough guys who are nevertheless morally upstanding. I should note that these archetypes are more stereotypical than typical: conservatism does not depend on anti-intellectualism and obscurantism any more than liberalism depends on aimless innovation.
I can see some other connections, too. For instance, even as the rate of passing plays continues to rise (hardly any teams run more often than pass anymore, as even Pittsburgh now passes upwards of thirty times per game), the personalities around the game continue to insist on the vital importance of the running game. Now, I don't believe that these people are wrong- a successful running game remains the surest method of controlling the ball and, by extension, the game- but it's an almost schizophrenic situation, in which the game is thriving on pass-heavy offenses but claims to be as run-oriented as ever.
Even more intriguing is football's bizarre social structure: while it is certainly the faces of the teams who receive the most attention, financial and otherwise- quarterbacks, receivers, running backs- there are frequent celebrations of the faceless. The left tackle, for instance, is one of the most highly paid players in the game these days, as is his primary antagonist, the right defensive end. In fact, the even more obscure defensive tackle has had a minor renaissance over the last few years, with the play of Kris Jenkins, Albert Haynesworth, Vince Wilfork, and others garnering national attention. Periodically, the offensive line as a gestalt is praised- the "vaguely Marxist" collective (as described by Michael Lewis in The Blind Side) of largely anonymous laborers sometimes take center stage in media. The rhetoric of football especially praises them, declaring the trenches to be the most critical location on the field. Again, I believe that this is in fact correct, but it is the sort of observation that requires more focus and expertise than the typical football fan is likely to have.
In no other sport are the subtleties simultaneously explained and mysterious- while the typical fan, thanks to the efforts of commentators and writers, knows the huge importance of line play, he remains largely uneducated with regards to the mechanics of it. It is very rare for such a person to blame anyone except the closest lineman should a defender sack the passer, despite the fact that a number of other factors could be and often are the true reason for the result (whether a blown assignment by a teammate, a missed read by the quarterback, or simply a slow-developing play). Almost all the rules of the game tilt the field in favor of defensive linemen (the ability to change positions before the snap, the ability to rip, swim, and grab cloth, etc.), so the speed of the passing game is hugely important in their performances: anything more than four seconds is a very long time to hold off a three hundred-plus pound athletic man who can do more to you than you can to him and who can actually see the location of the ball.
Another interesting phenomenon is this: centers and tackles, on average, have the highest IQ scores of any players on the field, followed by quarterbacks, middle linebackers, guards, and then a pretty random assortment afterward. So, the most intelligent players tend to play the offensive line. However, the instructions to the offensive line are often quite simplistic, especially with zone-blocking schemes (it essentially boils down to "protect this patch of dirt"). Meanwhile, defensive linemen, ostensibly the less intelligent men, are given more complicated instructions on average- twists, stunts, gap protections, etc. How do we explain this? Why does the simple offensive line need more intelligence than the chaotic defensive line? Because the offense's primary intellectual responsibility is to respond to the complexity of the defense: it requires analysis-on-the-fly capabilities, whereas the defender simply needs to remember and execute his basic responsibility- go here at this time and by this route. After that, his assigned duty is done, and he has complete freedom to perform his particular duty that play (usually a simple pursuit of the ball).
My last observation is this: no team plays up its blue-collar simplicity and toughness quite like the Steelers, although some of the Midwestern teams come close (Vikings, Packers, Bears). Pittsburgh bills itself as a brutal running team with a vicious defense. However, since the departure of certain key running offense personnel (Jerome Bettis, Alan Faneca, and Jeff Hartings, primarily), the offense has revolved increasingly around Ben Roethlisberger, Santonio Holmes, and Hines Ward (although, in fairness, he is one of the few receivers who could be said to be key to a running game). Pittsburgh now passes as much as any other team, largely due to the inefficacy of Willie Parker and the patchwork offensive line, with Rashard Mendenhall's recent emergence being an unknown factor going forward. We'll see where that goes.
The defense, meanwhile, is even more complicated and contradictory: far from simple, Dick LeBeau's schemes are downright byzantine in their intricacy, with zone blitzes, deception, and discipline being more important to it than blind aggression or even athleticism. Even so, the majority of the defensive personnel is, in fact, that way- James Harrison and LaMarr Woodley are two of the most intimidating specimens at linebacker in the league, the defensive backs rank among the hardest hitting in the game, and the defensive line is one of the meanest and strongest around. But even the base formation, the 3-4, carries the rightful reputation of being a cerebral and unorthodox system. The modern game began with and still embraces the 4-3, but the defenses with the best reputation for toughness over the last decade- New England's from its title runs, Baltimore's, and Pittsburgh's- have all used four linebackers.
As football increasingly focuses on the most colorful and innovative actions, its rhetoric and its figureheads continue to emphasize the nuts and bolts of the game, and its anti-climactic features: its defense, which exists for the sole purpose of preventing action; the offensive linemen, who exist to prevent even defensive action; and the running game, which derives most of its benefit from the fact that it uses up time without allowing a high amount of play. Contradictory? Yes. Confusing? At times. American? Undoubtedly.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Third Blog
I'd like to vary the way I say this somewhat from my post on Philosophy For Stupid People, so...
If anyone likes to read (frankly crappy) poetry- perhaps for the lulz?- I now have a third blog for that purpose: Amateur Hour Poetry.
If anyone likes to read (frankly crappy) poetry- perhaps for the lulz?- I now have a third blog for that purpose: Amateur Hour Poetry.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Vindication
I had several reasons for being excited about the debut album of the group Drummer:
1.) It involved Patrick Carney, my favorite active drummer (of The Black Keys), and was being released on his label, Audio Eagle.
2.) It was an intriguing sounding project- I had only heard one track, "Diamonds to Shake," but it had a particular vibe to it, hard and shiny and shimmering. It's a bit difficult to give the impression in words.
3.) It was a project only involving drummers. That's right- despite the consistent failure of solo projects by drummers to do well at all (I'm looking at you, Keith Moon), here was a legitimate band composed entirely of men who made their living drumming. In addition to Carney on bass, Drummer features Jamie Stillman on guitar (Teeth of the Hydra), Jon Finley on vocals and second guitar (Beaten Awake), Stephen Clements on keyboards (Houseguest), and Greg Boyd actually drumming (Ghostman). Now, I hadn't actually heard of any of these bands, with the exception of the Keys, but it was still a pretty awesome concept.
I think of it as a musical Revenge of the Nerds: the drummer, consistently the least known and least respected member of bands (although bass and keyboards sometimes claim that position), finally gets his own band... with four other outcasts.
There's an old joke about drummers:
Q: How did the drummer get fired?
A: He said, "Hey guys, let's play one of my songs."
Well, guess what? Those are the only songs in this band! And not one of them is as goofy as Ringo's masterpiece, "Octopus Garden."
1.) It involved Patrick Carney, my favorite active drummer (of The Black Keys), and was being released on his label, Audio Eagle.
2.) It was an intriguing sounding project- I had only heard one track, "Diamonds to Shake," but it had a particular vibe to it, hard and shiny and shimmering. It's a bit difficult to give the impression in words.
3.) It was a project only involving drummers. That's right- despite the consistent failure of solo projects by drummers to do well at all (I'm looking at you, Keith Moon), here was a legitimate band composed entirely of men who made their living drumming. In addition to Carney on bass, Drummer features Jamie Stillman on guitar (Teeth of the Hydra), Jon Finley on vocals and second guitar (Beaten Awake), Stephen Clements on keyboards (Houseguest), and Greg Boyd actually drumming (Ghostman). Now, I hadn't actually heard of any of these bands, with the exception of the Keys, but it was still a pretty awesome concept.
I think of it as a musical Revenge of the Nerds: the drummer, consistently the least known and least respected member of bands (although bass and keyboards sometimes claim that position), finally gets his own band... with four other outcasts.
There's an old joke about drummers:
Q: How did the drummer get fired?
A: He said, "Hey guys, let's play one of my songs."
Well, guess what? Those are the only songs in this band! And not one of them is as goofy as Ringo's masterpiece, "Octopus Garden."
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