the Incredible Shrinking Format

Recently my wife purchased a Nano IPod; while I must admit to being impressed with the spectacularly small size of the item I found that it raised some questions with me about the value of convenience and the role that music plays in the modern-day US.

For years, the preferred commercial method of listening to music involved the 12" longplaying vinyl record. I grew up during the heyday of the LP, and I was devoted to the format. The size of the LP was part of the fascination for me--it allowed for complex artwork and also gave more than enough space for recording credits and lyrics. The package could enhance the enjoyment of the sounds contained within and it also had the effect of presenting a unified piece of artwork that gave more significance to the individual piece of art itself rather than drawing unwarranted attention to the label or distribution network. Its size was undeniable; large collections, stored in milk cartons, had the heft of bricks and took up lots of space. Though incredibly popular in terms of mass consumption, the LP did not lend itself to portability, and individual records were something that required care and precise handling to maintain their optimal playing condition. The lack of portability became the first true sign of trouble for the format, and as car stereos began to multiply the LP began to lose some of its desirability in the eyes of the average music consumer.

With the car stereo, a new format was clearly necessary. The stability required to properly play LP records simply did not exist in the car, and the sheer size of LP's and their turntables also precluded their use in a moving vehicle. The first two attempts to make inroads into the market met with differing levels of success. The cassette tape simplified the bulky and semi-complicated reel-to-reel tape recorder greatly, and its size was infinitely more preferable to road warriors. That some fidelity was lost was not such a great concern--after all, who can hear every note in a complex piece of music while travelling 70 MPH with the windows down? Along with the cassette tape, a less successful invention came along to make driving and listening an easier task. The 8-track tape--clumsily split into four "programs" rather than 2 sides--had the disadvantage of disrupting the intended continuity of the album, while reducing the artwork to a cookie-cutter form that paid as much attention to the label that produced it as the artists who were responsible for creating the product in the first place. They were briefly popular during the 1970's in the US, and then they mercifully faded from the scene amid the scorn normally reserved for failed and dated technology. The cassette briefly triumphed as the top alternative to vinyl, and with the introduction of the walkman in 1980 or so it began to take a larger and larger share of the music market. Its tiny size made it the ultimate in portability; but along with its size came some sacrifices in terms of packaging, lyric sheets, and artwork. All were reduced by necessity, and as they began to pile up on the shelves of record stores everywhere their homogeneity began to feel claustrophobic to me. An aspect of an art form that was vibrant, challenging, expansive, and sometimes threatening was slowly being smothered by the uniformity of mass production.

From this point things began to get bad for our 12” LP format. Massive corporations that were raking in hundreds of millions of dollars yearly in profits began to complain that they weren’t making enough money from their various outlays of cash and perks. Relying upon the fans of the pop music market to determine who was really worthy of attention was a risky prospect; it meant that all of their product necessarily could not be counted on to be wildly successful. In fact, their narrowing of media outlets for music made once bankable acts into risky investments. The industry used the development of digital sound to solve its problems and strong-armed retailers into converting over to their format of choice. The industry could eliminate weighty, unwieldy, expensive, and easily damaged shipments to retailers with the new lightweight and smaller product; overall production was cheap relative to the cost of producing vinyl; and best of all, the new technology afforded media corporations the chance to increase the unit price of their product by roughly 55%. If listeners had to sacrifice the warmth of analog sound for the cold clarity of digital, then so be it. The same went for album graphics—smaller size meant less money spent in production.

After the digital overthrow, the next big step was the IPod. No graphics, not even full albums—people collected single songs again if they wanted. The biggest advantage to them of course was their small size and massive memory. But even this invention has recently been tinkered with twice (in the form of the Nano and the Shuffle) to make it ever more infinitesimal, ever more insignificant. It is symbolic of a reduction in the overall importance of music; while I am not equating modes of delivery with the actual experience of listening to music, the Nano’s miniscule size simply makes me uncomfortable. The LP record to me represented the majestic potential of music, whether the artwork was enigmatic and mysterious or direct and wordy. The IPod’s faceless reductionism (while somewhat egalitarian in its anonymity) oversimplifies the act of listening for me. Call me old-fashioned, but I always liked the ritual of playing albums or disc. Taking care of the LPs and discs was a method of tribute, a sign of respect. What the IPod is doing to other formats of music is something that will eventually occur with books and newspapers, as art and all other forms of media become the property of cyberspace. It does make me somewhat nostalgic, though…but all in all, I can’t wait for my wife to get the car adaptor for the Nano so I don’t have to bring so many CDs in the car next time. I guess I’m just a hypocrite at heart.

Renaming FEMA

After the disastrous performance of the Federal Emergency Management Agency in the wake of the Deep South Hurricane of 2005, it has been suggested by some that the agency be removed from the aegis of the Department of Homeland Security. Additionally, the cabinet-level post the office held under the Clinton administration will possibly be restored. I propose in the spirit of the Bush administration that the agency be completely renamed, so that the stain of history's judgment against them for their disgraceful efforts to "rescue" American citizens in New Orleans might be forgotten. Here are some potential new names that have the benefit of using the same acronym as the agency, so they don't have to throw out any of those cool t-shirts or windbreakers or baseball caps that were made at taxpayers' expense.....

FEMA--Failure to Evacuate Many Americans
FEMA--Faith-based Eschatology, Meticulously Applied
FEMA--Families that Earn More are Airlifted
FEMA--Fascist Emetics Made Available
FEMA--Flagrantly Evil Military Attaches
FEMA--Friends Elevated, without Much Ability
FEMA--Free Eugenics Methodology Application
FEMA--Fundamentally Egotistical Macho Assholes
FEMA--Fuck Everybody, Move Away

Within these new titles, the American government's philosopy of rescue is clearly expressed. Such clarity of mission can only help the new, reconstituted FEMA to do its job better next time. Whatever job that is, I mean.

Noise Maelstroms and Scandinavian Psychedelia

There are few things more enjoyable to me as a music fan than being totally and unexpectedly blown away by an unfamiliar band's live show. Through all my years of seeing bands, it is a constant that remains; oftentimes these sets are some of the most memorable performances I've ever seen. I saw Mudhoney in 1988 opening for Sonic Youth in such a fashion and still cherish the memory today; other surprise ass-kickings I've experienced include such luminaries as Oneida, Storm & Stress, and the Sun City Girls. Last Tuesday night at the NYC Knitting Factory I had another one of these blissful evenings, as a diverse bill of noise and psychedelia unfolded featuring Japanese noise godfather Merzbow, Double Leopards, Jim O'Rourke/Carlos Giffoni, and Finnish psych warlords Circle.

Naturally, my friend and I arrived too late to see Double Leopards--which is an ongoing problem for me (see the Sir Richard Bishop post for clarification)--getting there right as the band finished their droning set. O'Rourke and Giffoni then took the stage, on laptops and pedals, and proceeded to unleash a barrage of noise. Similar in tone to Merzbow's work, their sounds burst like shells through the PA. I found their set tedious--intermittently interesting, but brought down by the derivative nature of the material. There are lots of bands doing what they did that night, but doing it better--artists like Pita, Neon Hunk, and Prurient come to mind, as well as the master Merzbow. Piercing and jarring tones predominated, but in a genre where artists like Hair Police and Wolf Eyes speak in their own distinct musical idiom, the duo seemed like their best tones had been borrowed from other people. Giffoni's "I'm such a busy laptop guy" act wore on me, as he exaggerated his gestures in a lame attempt to show the crowd how intense and into it he was. Their set ran about a half hour and then Circle took the stage.

Circle has been around since 1991; they are from Finland; and their music is a unique amalgam of Krautrock bands like Neu! and Can, jazzy psychedelia in the vein of Beefheart or (gulp!) the Grateful Dead, and the grinding black metal of Scandinavian homeboys like Darkthrone or Immortal. If that doesn't sound like a contradictory collection of influences, I don't know what does--but what is so surprising about this band is that it all works so well. My only previous experience with them came from a friend of mine, who owned a copy of 2002's Sunrise; it seemed to me to combine a healthy love for the psychedelic trance groove along with 70's arena rock. Vocals sometimes bordered on the operatically silly and tasteless, but the band's approach to their influences was both loving and irreverent. The ultimate result was a really cool record, I thought, so when my friend laid it on me that Circle was coming to the Knit I thought that it behooved us to attend.

The band came out--a drummer, guitarist, bassist, and keyboardist/singer. The singer was dressed in jeans, a wife-beater, suspenders, glasses with those annoying "transition" lenses, and the type of leather cap that Al Pacino wore in the movie Cruising. The bassist seemed to be about 7 feet tall, and he looked like a hippie who had accidentally purchased a metal fan's bass. I was immediately worried that I had wasted my whole evening. My fears were unfounded; the set opened with a long piece that started quietly with a very 70's sounding synth riff and then progressed into a psychedelic epic. The whole set consisted of 5 songs--the first and last numbers were in the 15-20 minute range, while the middle 3 were taut swinging mechanical Krautrock, gleaming with metal tinges. In the last song the keyboardist abruptly switched to a second drum kit, using his vocal mic to mic the kit. There was a slight delay on the mic that sounded good on his vox, but added a shifting and shimmering texture to the drumbeat he was playing. While basically doubling what the main drummer played, the delay made it slightly dubbed out. Another totally unexpected touch from these guys. After they finished playing I grabbed two of their discs--Forest and Tulikoira--and found out the next day that the set they played consisted of 3 tunes from these discs, the two longest included. Their simplicity was deceptive, and for a band that favors the mechanical styles of the Germans of the 1970's they possess a feel to their groove that is uncanny (no pun intended). Overall it was a great set.

Merzbow then cleaned out my sinus canals with a dark and brooding piece. I lasted maybe 40 minutes before I figured I'd beat the crowd to the bathroom and head out. His music was much more restrained than the O'Rourke/Giffoni duo, using more time to develop some of the sonic textures that he employed. His sound was mean and nasty, huge ringing bass tones mixed in with harsh squeals and static bursts--denser than Wolf Eyes. Merzbow's antiseptic stage presence was a welcome contrast to the showiness of Giffoni; as much more complex tonalities surged around him he allowed himself a brief smile near the 30-minute mark. The crowd up front was going nuts; they seemed like worshippers finally experiencing the presence of their divinity. His set was great too but finally it just wore me out. After the oddball melodicism and pure rock belief demonstrated by Circle, Merzbow was a harsh opposite extreme. As far as laptoppers go though, it was an engaging and brutally effective set...I'd see him again for sure.

So in review--I went out, got drunk, got high, and got my ass kicked unexpectedly. One of those great nights out. Additionally, Circle is playing what should be a cool show at the Hook in Brooklyn on 9-17; also on the bill are Khanate, Coptic Light, and Mouthus.

Is This the New Teleology?

"It's all part of God's plan." We've all heard this platitude, usually expressed in tones of voice intended to soothe a questioning, frightened, or raging psyche. It is usually uttered after disasters natural or man-made as an attempt to make sense of the suffering of those who do not deserve to suffer, to try to answer one of the oldest questions that humanity has ever struggled with--why do horrible things happen to innocent people?

Most worshippers of God consider God to be omnipotent and omniscient. This conception of God endows God with the ability to do anything anywhere in the universe. Taken in conjunction with the assertion that God is not evil, this idea of the divine requires that God must manifest itself in good actions rather than disruptive, senseless, and evil actions. If there is a desire within the Godhead for goodness, there must be, by implication, some sort of divine master plan for the development of life in the universe, according to those who believe. As lowly humans, we are simply too self-absorbed, or distracted, or mortal to truly understand what this plan entails.

It has become acceptable in recent years to ascribe everything from a football team's playoff comeback to a child's high score on a test to the divine plan. In this particular conception the all-powerful God manages to weave together strands of prayer and good intentions with natural disasters like hurricanes and volcanic eruptions and man-made disasters like war and political repression in order to keep humanity's forward progress going towards the ultimate, hidden end. These sentiments are typically self-centered and have no basis in reality. The universe is a testament to the power of dumb luck; and if you are familiar with the concept of the multiverse the idea of a deity that intervenes on behalf of the chosen supplicant becomes even more ludicrous.

Christianity's teleological viewpoint is of course shared by other major religions, though with a slightly different perspective. The fundamentalist Islamic movement undoubtedly views an event like Hurricane Katrina as divine justice for a war of invasion, the same way that fundamentalist Christians must view the Baghdad bridge stampede as divine payback for resisting the supposed truth of the Christian faith. Other Americans might view the hurricane in a more negative light, viewing it as yet another example of the way in which the planet is revenging itself upon a population of mercantile polluters. As the number of natural disasters increases in the next few years, look for some kind of spin from somebody somewhere to claim that the increase in disasters proves that God is either wrathful or pleased with the results.

In the US, the new teleology has been dealt a heavy blow, as the destruction of New Orleans has proven that nature can always devise new and unexpected means of making human beings suffer and die. I wonder if those who claim that God's hand is seen in all things on this planet can say that the murders of children at the Superdome served a purpose. Or perhaps they can piously declare that the sewage and debris slowly curdling in the water in the late summer sun, turning ever more lethal by the hour, illustrates God's perfection. Of course, this new teleology has another function--it helps its practitioners to rationalize away all forms of suffering endured by their fellow humans, especially those who are in different economic strata from themselves. It's all part of the feel-good divisiveness encouraged by the saved/unsaved dichotomy of religious fundamentalism.

Existence is without meaning or plan, unless we ourselves invest it with such ideas. To accept this idea is to reject the New Primitivism of the modern fundamentalists. To live comfortably with this idea is to accept your individual responsibility for your own life; not such a radical sentiment, of course, but one that many people find frightening. So much so that they rush into the arms of repressive and irrational systems of belief.