Steve's Blahg

Final Thoughts: How do you review the arts?

2008-05-16T12:13:00.000-07:00

How do you review the arts?

Throughout this semester I have read reviews and written even more reviews. I’ve read reviews from quite an eclectic group of writers, each with a unique viewpoint on the process. Even after all of this insight, I’m still not exactly sure how to write a review, but I have a better understanding of how I review the arts.

On one hand, I tend to review things enthusiastically if I like them. The first review I wrote, for a sketch comedy group called Think Tank, left a lasting impression on me, and while I wasn’t able to get into the specifics of their show too much, I was able to convey my admiration of their performances accurately. On the other hand, when something I’m reviewing bugs me, I tend to tear it apart. This was exemplified in my review of the Columbia magazine, Echo.

"Hustler is certainly the most reviled instance of mass circulation porn, and at the same time probably one of the most explicitly class-antagonistic mass circulation periodicals of any genre. Although it's been the tendency among writers on porn to lump it together into an unholy triad with Penthouse and Playboy, the other two top circulating men's magazines, Hustler is a different beast in any number of respects, even in conventional men's magazine terms."

-Kipnis
In a way similar to Kipnis’ views on Hustler in the porn magazine genre, I ripped Echo up strictly in the genre of Collegiate publications. The magazine despised me in a way that Hustler despises many, and I found myself pulling no punches. The magaize was garbage, and I let them know that. Somehow, the publishers of the magazine even found their way over to my blog. I don’t know how this happened, but I was a bit startled, and found myself not even brave enough to respond to their response.

It can be said, then, that I have multiple voices when reviewing the arts, and in a classic they say/ I say manner, this duality applies to myself.

"A major virtue of the they say/ I say model is that it returns writing to its social, conversational base."- Gerald Graff, Cathy Birkenstein

I feel it could be said that depending on my mood, the voices I write with could actually have a conversation with one another. A more calm, rational “me” could actually have a debate with regard to many of these art-forms that have been reviewed. I guess it just depends- somedays I may entertain myself with a critic’s voice- harsh, scathing, judgemental- others, I may find sympathy to be my “humor” of the moment, as was evident when I pulled back and reviewed Columbia’s Green week event in a voice that I did not even claim was my own, but an alter-ego, “Evil” twin of myself. Despite feeling this event was totally amateurish, I held back, because I sympathized with the kids putting on the event. As much as I would have liked to bring in my politics, and debate the accuracy of things like global warming, which at heart is a ruse to tax people more on corporate pollution, I did not, and still felt good about my review as a humor piece. Like Barthes, I took something that I found to be completely mundane and useless and turned it into something that not only could I be proud of, but a review that the kids who put on the event might even find themselves being proud of. This was also an example of the politics of location- had I not been so harsh on Echo, a representation of students of my school already, I may have ripped into the Green event after all. Oh, the voices just continue to battle!

As a woman I have a countr; as a woman I cannot divest myself of that country merely by condemning its government or by saying three times 'As a woman my country is the whole world.'"

-Rich

So as a part of a larger group, my school, which I am proud to be, I guess I just couldn’t lash out against student work again. When I did find myself being harsh on the Harrison subway exhibit, I felt I should exclude that negativity from my final essay.

Overall I just feel that the voice I should write with is a positive one. I am no critic, and I feel there is a difference between a critic and a reviewer. A critic reviews everything, maybe- even things he does not like. As a reviewer, I feel I am best suited to review things that are marketed toward me. This way, even if I give something a bad review, I am not affecting someone in a negative way. Positive or negative feedback can go a long way, where a harsh critique can affect someone’s feelings in a way where they may pass those bad feelings on to someone else. Is this a copout? I’m not sure. I just feel that, instead of being a reviewer who writes a review having had a bad experience with art is not for me. I am better suited to brightening the day of the reader, and this doesn’t happen when I go to “my dark side.”

I feel that I exemplified my voice when contrasting Dyson in a they say? I say way with my review of Chappelle’s Block Party. This was a film inside a genre (hip-hop) inside another genre (documentary) inside yet another (concert film.). I like all of these genres and felt I was in my element. My writing was positive, I debated against Dyson in a way that didn’t make me feel like I’d gotten negative, and proved my points with knowledge I’d accumulated since high school. This was my favorite thing to review, unintentionally, as I had seen the film before, but when seeing it again I felt uplifted and felt the need to translate that feeling into my review. Hopefully I made others feel good about the filmn and review after they read the piece. It was an experiment in declaring my authority over the subject matter, and I felt completely successful.

How do you review the arts? Carefully. Accurately. And sometimes the old rule of “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all” applies to reviews as well. Harsh critiques are no fun to read. Wishy-washy, too nice reviews are also no fun to read. A careful balance must be struck, and therein lies the challenge. Overall, I feel like I have found ways through these reviews and readings that I did not have prior to this class, and as a whole I feel this has been a great benefit to me as not only a reviewer but a writer.

Someday subways will/ be more pleasing to the eye/ but for now not great.

2008-04-22T12:51:00.000-07:00

The subway is not a pretty place and I don't know that it ever has been. Of course, this is my opinion, not a fact, but let's be honest- these places are underground for a reason- so they don't have to be seen juxtaposed against the metropolis of the city.

The CTA and Columbia College have teamed up to bring you Harrison Redline Stop: 2.0. What does Harrison 2.0 entail, you ask? According to the Tribune, "blossoms and blooms- or at least graphics of them- are just what greet commuters now as they enter and exit the station. The haiku(plural) are featured prominently between the large red flowers and bright green and white tiles." That's right- Columbia has put up new tiling on the subway entrance area walls, along with various haiku poetry by students from Columbia and Jones College Prep High School.

Though the haiku poetry is nice, eloquently written, and a great representation overall of the spirit and creativity of the sprawling metropolitan art-school that is Columbia, the execution in the displays fall very, very short- embarassingly short.

These additions were made to the station just a few months ago, and already the lettering in the works is coming unpeeled from the walls. The medium used on the walls consists of white tiling and vinyl stickers used to create the poetry and multi-colored tiling, as well as what they are referring to as "bright red flowers."

As dingy as the subway can be and is, there is no way really that these attempts to spruce up the scene have greatly increased the aesthetic appeal of the Harrison subway station. In fact, knowing how run-down the display already appears, i don't necessarily look forward to seeing how bad it deteriorates over the next few months.

If I had to change the exhibit, I would hire painters to put a permanent, professional-looking touch on the run-down walls. I'd make the medium follow the aesthetic of the city- make that artwork real nitty gritty. Urban artwork would work well for this urban setting in the middle of an urban campus. The South Loop is nice, but it's not shiny, and these white tiles are too shiny, and the poetry is already crumbling.

The Harrison revamp could still be saved- by artists/students. The poetry is a nice and admirable gesture, but whoever executed the display did a poor job representing the community and the school. Overall, the subway still looks gross. It still just looks like a subway.

Whale Hunting Day

2008-04-21T22:46:00.000-07:00

This week's guest blogger is my evil twin, Turd Colon Shields, Self-Proclaimed Earth Man/ Man Of The Earth. He also goes to school at Columbia, and I received permission from Doug to have him write this. Wait, did I send that email? Ah, well. I'm sure there's nothing in the rules about having your evil twin write your blog for one assignment out of, like, 60.
-Steve-

Turd Colon ShieldsWell first of all, I don't know you, so let me introduce myself. My name's Turd Colon Shields. That's right, my father named me Turd Colon Shields (Pronounced Turd, like a turd, and Colin, like the name- not the body part, fyi), and my brother Steve, after himself. But I'm not bitter. Most women actually sometimes dig the name Turd long enough to date me for periods of weeks at a time. However, I mostly just tell them my name is Colin. Saves me a lot of trouble until Steve comes along and tells each potential wife my real name. Like I said- I'm not bitter, periods of weeks at a time. Sometimes, but not all, more than one at a time. Catch my slang?

For Earth Day, I usually take some kind of exotic vacation to unwind and get back in touch with the planet. For instance, in 2004 I went on a tour of some Rainforests where we got to take an acre's worth of trees home with us. We also got to eat any wildlife we could shoot, including rare monkeys or native peoples. 2005 found me welding ice in the Arctic. (That's right- I mistakenly followed along on a hippy-trip to the Arctic, where I and a bunch of hippies learned that ice doesn't weld- it melts- laugh it up. The woman's name was Vicki, and I told her my name was Colin. She is the hippy I followed.) In 2007 I went bald eagle hunting in Wyoming and actually killed two bald eagles with one stone, and in 2007 I went rare and not-rare whale hunting in Japan. This year I wanted to try something more exciting- something different. This year, I decided to stay in Chicago and see what was going on at my college Earth Day bash. I figured I'd share exotic stories of Earth Day vacations with some school-mates I had never met before. Boy was I wrong.

At Earth Day at Columbia, students held some sort of job-fair type thing except instead of handing out your resume to a crowd of recruiters, a crowd of hippies hands things out to you. It was pretty nice, actually. I think it was called Green Fair or something, though there was no sign of Ralph Nader or Cynthia McKinney (I'm up on politics! Go Ronnie Pablo, lady doctor to the nation! And why are we voting between a black guy and a woman when we could have a black woman? Go Cynthia!), so I don't think it had to do with the Green Party...

But seriously. I care about the Earth, and that's what I think this whole thing was about, since it was Earth-Day. I like to recycle cans for money. I did that when I was four- that's how my brother and I made our money back then. According to the Earth-Fair or whatever at Columbia, people still recycle, but now they recycle all sorts of things- like plastic grocery bags, cell-phones, and light-bulbs.

1 week's worth of recyclable trash from 623 Wabash...

I met a dude named Alden who was in charge of the green group, and they were running sort of an underground light-bulb trading scheme that seemed like something I could really get in on. They had a deal where if you brought them a regular old light bulb, they would give you one of these new ones that twist and spiral around and supposedly only take 13 watts to produce the brightness of a 60 watt bulb. This was pretty sweet and made me wish I had brought some light bulbs along. I also wished I had brought in some of my old pay-as-you-go phones since they had complimentary bags to recycle them in. (I ended up just throwing them away when I got home from school today anyway- it was a good reminder to get rid of those 23 old things...)

Then there were free cookies, free coke, sprite, pepsi, a booth with free herb seeds (I asked if they had White Widow, but all they gave me was cilantro, a type I had never heard of. I was just thrilled that they can give seeds away these days! Cheers for decriminalization on campus. Private Property, Cops!), lots of pamphlets about global warming and stuff...Oh, but this one thing I hated was this wheel game:

stupid, useless, winnerless wheel game

This game had no point, but had these frilly things you could win if you stuck your hand in a hole. I tried that at a party once and it was not cool, and I was not about to try it here in broad daylight.

All in all, Earth-Day wasn't quite as fun this year, but after a long streak, it was only a matter of time before Turd Colon Shields had a lackluster Earth-Day. I gotta give my best to the students, though- they really seem to care.

-Steve Shields is on vacation and will return next week.-

Columbia In A Nutshell

2008-04-15T15:48:00.000-07:00

If I were a Columbia College tour guide, there are a couple places on campus that I wouldn't be able to not show a potential attendee.

One is the financial aid office, where I'd show the kids how much it costs to go to school here and how much debt they'll have accumulated in four years in order to scare them out of going to college at all.

"I keed! I keed!"

Place numero uno is the front of 623 S. Wabash. When the weather is nice, I have never failed to find a shortage of cool-looking art-school cats. From nerds to goths, there's something about this hot-spot that just screams at kids to kick back, chop your hair asymmetrically, light up a cancer-stick, and kick back on a window sill. See, despite my judgmental assumptions about these peoples' appearances, you really cannot pigeonhole the style of nearly any Columbia kid, and for this reason alone potential incoming students should feel right at home and take comfort in their own uniqueness. It also doesn't hurt that this is also a great spot to check out pretty ladies of all shapes and sizes. Hell, I don't even smoke and the front of 623 makes me want to put on a pair of women's jeans, oversized 80s sneakers and start smoking right then and there. And this is a daily occurance!

Spot numero dos is the 4th floor 623 Wabash Interactive Arts and Media computer lab. This is where I go to act like I understand what I'm doing in Photoshop and Illustrator for my digital image design class. While I am doing this and surfing the internet, I am trying to concentrate but failing miserably because of how laid back this lab's rules are. Sure, there are signs posted asking everyone to be quiet and not eat or drink food in the lab, but never once have I seen these rules remotely enforced. This lab is a veritable social mecca for the creative digi-heads on campus.

Usually while I'm tinkering with vectors and lasso tools in the Adobe CS3, there's at least 4 people right next to me designing video games or using some sort of 3-dimensional rendering program that makes my work-load look like I'm participating in a third-grade spelling bee. This lab is packed with some smart-mo-fo's, and believe me when I say that smart is an understatement. I can't begin to fathom how these kids learn this stuff, but there they are, going nuts at all hours of the day.

Another great thing about this lab is that you can buy sodas from the lab-runners for the anti-inflation price of $.50, and there's always a great selection, usually including my fave, Dr Pepper. You just can't beat it.

Run To The Hills

2008-04-15T04:51:00.000-07:00

Ahem. Did you run? If not, you may want to consider running. Far. Away. From the United States. Specifically, get away from the West Coast immediately. Get away from Los Angeles! Run for your lives?

Living with 2 girls, it is hard not to hear discussions about a TV show called The Hills. Now, having seen the show, I have a better outlook on life and the world. I am actually grateful for every minute I spend of my life where I am NOT watching The Hills. It isn't so much that the show is bad as it it's....Okay, it is that bthe show is bad. And not in an "American Idol/ Dancing With The Stars"-type bad- this show is Satan.

Judging from the three episodes I watched, The Hills is about women in Los Angeles who are trying to break into the professional world of drinking alcohol and makeup-wearing. These girls are, like, champions of these sports. The series is a "reality" show that follows the lives of approximately six vapid women and one shell of a man named Spencer. From what I could tell, someone named Heidi, who has the most blatant nosejob I've ever seen, is pissed off at someone named Lauren, and because of this, the entire state of California is on the verge of collapsing into the Pacific ocean due to the strain and tension that these feuding socialites are placing on the San Andreas fault line. Meanwhile, Heidi's boyfriend Spencer is living in his sister's apartment- I mean condo (Sorry, Spencer- my bad)- while he and Heidi are on a "relationship vacation," which means that both Spencer and Heidi are idiots. Did I say idiots? Oh. That was what I meant to say.

See that? Apparently these girls are wall-building carpenters as well, although I didn't see that sort of career action taking place in the three episodes I watched.

For me, the highlight of the show is this guy Spencer. At times, Spencer wears a flesh-toned mustache. Others he is clean-shaven. At all times he is the most insane man I've ever seen on television. He lives on his sister's couch and at one point asks her, "Where is the maid?" She replies, "I am the maid." His retort? "Well she needs to wash the sheets on my couch." He then angers his sister by having some sort of phone-booth/time-travelling device delivered to the center of her living room. Good God.

As for the tech aspects of the show, some scenes are filmed really well. In between reality scenes, there is lots of stock footage that would make me want to dart out to LA and start a new life asap if I had one of my brain hemispheres removed. In all seriousness, I caught this one absolutely gorgeous shot of some kind of mountainy/woodsy area in LA, but this shot lasted all of one second, and was followed by a five-second stock shot of a guy skateboarding down a street which could have been anywhere in any city. Come to think of it, that one beautiful landscape shot probably wasn't really California at all- it was probably some exotic land like Thailand thrown in for good measure, as the way thse people portray the West Coast should in theory sway everyone on the planet from ever wanting to move there. Also, when the producers film scenes in clubs, they don't mic the stars- they just put subtitles on the screen so you know what they're saying. Had they done this in the Real World for all those seasons....well, they just wouldn't have, because it makes for awful television.

Unfortunately, it seemd like the more times I watched the Hills, the less I actually cared what was going on. The show features pretty faces, sure, but none I want to know personally. The cast-members obviously have far too much of their parents' money to spend, and characters with nothing to do but talk, like, fashion and stuff, are like, not that interesting to....zzzzzzzzzzzzz.................

Hickup.

"Go cure yourself, America."-a note from The United States Of America to its citizens.

2008-04-08T17:42:00.000-07:00

“Though the focus occasionally strays, (Sicko) emerges as a fascinating exploration and powerful indictment of a pressing national problem. This is Moore's biggest, best and most impassioned work. And while he probes a vitally serious subject and makes a case for widespread reform, he does so with lighthearted flourishes — large doses of humor, clever use of film footage and a catchy soundtrack. These assets, along with well-chohttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifsen interview subjects, make Sicko a film that will arouse surprise, outrage, sadness and heated discussion.”- Claudia Puig, USA Today

You don’t get much more American (or generic, but that’s not bad when it comes to movie talk) than the USA Today, and Claudia Puig has nailed this film on the head with one small paragraph.

If there is one driving message that resonates throughout Michael Moore’s “Sicko,” it’s that something is wrong- very wrong- with our country’s healthcare system. After all, we are the greatest nation in the world, right? Or are we just the most atrophied, apathetic country in the world? Is our government beating us down with fear because they are afraid of us? Moore’s film asks many questions like these, and presents a well-balanced picture of the mess The United States is really in. Michael Moore pulls out all stops, using a potent mixture of heart-wrenching propaganda of the best kind combined with true-life testimonials. This is not a film that will be soon forgotten by viewers, with the exception of so-called “right-wingers” (I use quotes around right-wingers because I don’t believe the left/right dichotomy of U.S. politics. 2 wings, one bird. It’s all the same, etc etc…end rant.) who will no doubt watch the film with blinders and continue thttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifo insist that the United States does everything best.
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I first heard of Michael Moore a few years back when he put out the documentary Bowling For Columbine, which I enjoyed and appreciated at the time of its release (though I have not explored the film since). He followed that movie with Fahrenheit 9/11, a lightweight documentary about 9/11 that pales in comparison to such informative films as 9/11 Mysteries and 9/11: Press For Truth. Sicko, though, hits a topic that has the potential to affect and enrage us all, and this is clearly Moore’s intent. After being hospitalized for 4 hours earlier this year with food poisoning and having been sent a $1,000+ bill for my treatment, I too am angry with the system.

Where Moore missed the ball with 9/11, failing to impress those in the 9/11 Truth movement (a group of “conspiracy theorists” who take that adjective as a political slur and are dedicated to uncovering and spreading the truth about how the towers really fell and what happened to the third building in NYC that fell on 9/11/01, the Solomon brothers building, aka Building 7), he has no-doubt impressed the hell out of healthcare advocates who see clearly that “the sickness industry” has replaced “the healthcare industry.” And though he hasn’t chosen to address the pharmaceutical companies, or the root causes of what is making us all so sick, Moore has put aside partisanship to create a film that should move all.

Michael Moore could be viewed as a sort of cultural instigator- just as certain art-forms are designed to provoke unease in their target market, so designed are Moore’s films- laced with trigger-words, provocative imagery, and a general portrayal of America as “kept in the dark,” just as Kipnis said of Hustler magazine, Moore’s films are filled with “things we would call tasteless at best, or might even become repulsed by.” This is exemplified in the film’s opening, where the audience is treated to a viewing of a man stitching up his own wound because he cannot afford medical care.

“They say you can judge a society by how it treats its worst off.”-Michael Moore, Sicko.

The scene that sums up the current state of the medical industry in the United States involves a woman whose young daughter gets sick with a 104-degree fever. Her daughter is rushed to a hospital where she is refused care. Urged to take her daughter elsewhere, the woman pleads with staff to treat her daughter. Shortly after, the daughter suffers a seizure, followed by cardiac arrest. She passes away because these doctors refuse to treat her. This scene is just one of many gut-wrenching scenes throughout the epic documentary, one of which finds 9/11 heroes making their way to Cuba for healthcare they couldn’t receive in the states.

Michael Moore is a cunning filmmaker who, this time out, is unafraid to punch his target, the healthcare industry, right in the face. I hope he’ll go on to tackle the real issues, though- where is all of this cancer coming from? Why aren’t we able to cure disease anymore? Why are we dealing with new diseases all the time? Why are our 6th grade girls being forced ton take Gardisil, a vaccine that does not work? We all know what happened in the Tuskegee Experiments. I hope Moore goes even more esoteric with his next venture and really starts to wake people up. Those calling for a revolution need to realize that it is happening- one mind at a time. Nice work this time, Mr. Moore.

I should have gotten more free shit.

2008-03-31T23:52:00.000-07:00

Nobody likes to see the curse-word version of the turd-word used profanely in the Class Blogs. However, it's post-Spring Break, and the blog needs freshening. What better way to freshen the old blah blah blog than by using the curse-word version of the turd-word?

Shit. I like that. Curse-word version of the turd-word.

My college days are soon ending. I'll be on my way out in December, pending all goes well. And with that departure I'll be taking a large bill of college loans. Regret is sinking in these days with regard to my time spent here, and I'm not a person who likes to spend money on regret. It's not that I wish I would have chosen a different major or something. I really just wish I would have taken advantage of more of all the free shit we get as students here.

A little background: I have been shooting comedy videos for about the past year, and prior to had been writing and discussing making videos for years (I'm an AEM/ Media/ TV Management student, not a film or TV major.). I was enrolled in the Television department for two consecutive semesters and failed to realize that I had the ability to check out the free video equipment offered by the department. See, I had been using junk-cheap equipment or bumming stuff from friends. For some reason I just wasn't aware of how easy it actually is to just walk in and check this free shit out.

This semester, having completely biffed my opps to rent free shit prior, I enrolled in an IAM class. Having regretted not using the TV department's junk, I was enthused to learn that the IAM department has their own Equipment Cave with a small cache of video and photo weapons that anyone in the department can check out for free, just like the TV department. I have been checking out cameras, like, every 3 days. It's insanely included right in my tuition. Some of this equipment would normally cost about $500 a day to rent! And then you'd have to put up a credit line to back the rental unless you wanted to buy an insurance policy!

Other free items I have recently taken advantage of included Free Business Card Day and The Portfolio Center. At Free Business Card Day, some nice lady led me right into a tiny room with a nerd in it. This nerd asked me a few questions about myself and in about 5 minutes came up with a totally cool (but kinda nerdy) business card for me. FOR FREE. Also, if you weren't aware, the IAM department and TV departments both have computer labs where you can print all your shit for free. The IAM department even allows access to free high quality paper and serious, serious color printing.

For anyone looking into attending Columbia, you'll want to consider taking advantage of all the free shit this place has to offer. If I would have done more research or maybe just paid attention a bit more I would have been having a blast from the start of my tansfer here. Instead I've wasted most of these free things until this fifth semester. Hindsight is 20/20, and as far as my last two years here go, I feel like I had crud in my eyes the whole time. Maybe with a little digging you people can help me find some more free shit before I exit this place and the standardized education system forever. I could really use the freeness of whatever you may be aware of that I am not.

Thanks, Columbia.

Old, shoddy equipment:
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New, Free Columbia Equipment that we barely knew how to work:

Also, please vote for this video here starting April 7 (Video number 2427!)

Dyson, Culture Creation, Tunnel Vision, and Dave Chappelle's Block Party: Thoughts on the state of hip-hop and culture-creation

2008-03-18T10:43:00.000-07:00

El-P and Aesop Rock: Delorean (A fave hip-hop track of mine)

I love music. The Roots were my first introduction to live hip-hop in high school. Having been a fan of “bands,” I was surprised to learn that there was a hip-hop group out there playing instruments- not just spinning records and clicking samples. I’ve since dived into a veritable rabbit-hole of hip-hop and can now claim to be a fan of many acts in the genre. Around the same time that I was introduced to The Roots, I was introduced to Dave Chappelle and his film Half Baked. Having never imbibed marijuana before, I was probably not the film’s intended audience. However, I went back to see the film a second time the following weekend and my infatuation and comedic man-crush on Chappelle was born. I’ll never forget this scene:

The film “Block Party,” by director Michel Gondry stars Chappelle along with The Roots and an all-star cast of musicians and hip-hop performers. When I saw the film originally in theaters I had a fantastic time. When watching it again in class recently I enjoyed the film even more- after watching it I was in a fantastic mood all day. I was inspired. The film is inspiring. Since seeing The Roots for the first time in high school I have come along way politically, having experienced various paradigm shifts that put my politically mentality more in-tune with artists seen in the film like Dead Prez than most of my friends and associates. I view culture in the US as a product, not a natural byproduct of life. That is to say that we are all manipulated in various ways by the Culture Creation Industry- we are scientifically marketed to nearly 100% of our lives, and 99% of us probably don’t realize that the thoughts we think and the slogans we parrot are not our own. To think that the originators of hip-hop were the ones who gave it to the American populace en-masse is preposterous- these elements of culture are given to the public as a means of dividing, segregating, and conquering, by people at elite levels of power that we will never know behind the Snoop-Dogg’s and Dr. Dre’s of the hip-hop world. Illuminati symbolism can be found in the work of Jay-Z and the influence of The Rockefeller Banking Family can even be seen in the name of Jay’s Rock-A-Fella records.

I find Dyson’s analysis of hip-hop culture to be out-dated and not really in-step with the hip-hop culture portrayed in Block Party. Dyson’s piece mentions East Coast hip-hop, which we see throughout Block Party, but dwells on the shortcomings of the genre of “gangsta-rap” and the way the culture is perceived by the public. Hip-hop is a constantly evolving genre just like Rock music, and a follow-up article by Dyson post-Block Party would be interesting to read. I find that though Dyson’s views exist outside of what many may consider “the norm,” he still suffers from the tunnel-vision that most of us suffer from that causes us to forget history and realize that we are in fact manipulated by science in a way that has been painstakingly thought out, like Plato taught long, long ago.
When Dyson says, “…like hip-hop, jazz has a history of cultural attack,” he fails to realize that it’s not just black music that has a history of being attacked- it is all of us that have a history of being attacked, and it is all of us who are under attack, all the time. When Dyson states, “Among esteemed black intellectuals and persons on the street, there is a consensus that something has gone terribly wrong with black youth…They are menaces to society.” What most people fail to realize is that something has gone terribly wrong, and that something is the destruction of not just the black family but the family in general. Television replaced the days of intellectual discussion and familial bonding, and it did so right before our eyes, and we all let it happen. Dyson’s personal paradigm on hip-hop as a genre would not even consider an act like The Roots a plausibility, let alone find the genre saying such radical and powerful, abrasive truths as Dead Prez does in the film and in their music.

I feel that one goal of Block Party was to differentiate Hip-hop as a whole from what the mainstream perceives as negativity in the hip-hop culture. This is confirmed by a paradigm-shift of sorts by some reviewers who admit to a prejudice about the musical genre and have come away thinking differently after watching the film. Take Ebert, for instance:

“I came away from the movie with three observations: 1) I find a lot of rap nihilistic and negative, but the musicians featured here seemed accessible and positive; (2) Nevertheless I was pathetically grateful when Lauryn Hill and the Fugees sang "Killing Me Softly With His Song"…”- http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060302/REVIEWS/60301011/1023

You’ll notice that when Ebert says “I find,” he should have said, “Prior to seeing this film, I found…” He has found the musicians in the film to be accessible and positive but is afraid to admit that others not portrayed in the film could also be accessible and positive. Though I don’t fault Ebert for his opinions, I will fault his unoriginality in the way he summed up many white peoples’ views on the genre instead of admitting his enjoyment and allowing himself to actually become a fan of these talented musicians.

As a whole, this film says to me that race relations, though not over in this country, actually have come a long way. The film was a way for Hip-Hop as a culture to sort-of reveal to the world that it’s not going away any time soon. Though maybe the higher-ups brought hip-hop in as a way to further divide this country, the genre is now helping to heal wounds and unite, much more so than the so-called “Great Uniter/ Modern-day Hitler” that we have “leading” us. In this way it is remaining an independent, decentralized entity that has the capability to do a lot of good in this world. I feel that Chappelle and company have known this little secret all along. I am glad they got an opportunity to share, and I look forward to seeing more unity, racially, economically, or otherwise, thanks to the power of hip-hop. Where Dyson was maybe pessimistic in the early 90s, I feel he would be proud of where the genre is at in current culture.

(And on a lighter note...here's a hip-hop video that I cameo in...)

Find more videos like this on iO Community

Linkin Park: Live From Soho (AKA Dead From Chester)

2008-03-11T10:47:00.000-07:00

Linkin Park burst onto the mainstream radio-rock scene a few years back with the album “Hybrid Theory”. “Theory” spawned several hits and went on to achieve the coveted Diamond album status for selling over ten million copies. Combining the angst-ridden vocals of Chester Bennington, the mellow lyrical rap flow of Mike Shinoda, heavy guitars, rhythm section, and a turn-tablist, Linkin Park found an instantly accessible formula that people like- a lot.

Linkin Park’s latest release is the iTunes exclusive, “Live From Soho.” Five tracks long, the album is an inexpensive reward for fans looking to take home a sampling of the band’s latest tracks performed live.

While Linkin Park’s musicians seem talented enough, the entire “Live From Soho” album suffers incredibly from Chester Bennington’s redundant, self-hating lyrics. The album-opener is a track called Wake- a pretty little Pink Floyd-ish (Sorry, Pink Floyd, wherever you are!) turn-table and keys number.

The musicianship found throughout the EP is not entirely impressive; though not completely awful- these guys know how to play. Given Up greets listeners with a crunchy metal riff that would not sound out of place coming from a band like, say, Limp Bizkit. Unfortunately, as soon as the band shows their skill, vocalist Bennington dives deep into monotonous, cliché-filled lyrical ocean, drowning the listener in a vat of mediocrity for the duration of the record.

The overall awfulness of Bennington’s lyrics can’t be comprehended without hearing them. Take Given Up:

“Waking in sweat again/ another day’s been left to waste/ in my disgrace/ stuck in my head again/ feels like I’ll never leave this place/ there’s no escape/ I’m My own worst enemy/ I’ve given up (scream with me! UUUUP!)” Holy geez, Chester- smile, buddy! Your band is a success.

My December allows band members to take a breather as Bennington croons a bit over a soft piano melody. The lyrical mediocrity is relentless, though- things stay very boring: “This is my December/ this is my time of the year/ this is my December/ This is me alone.” Shinoda chimes in with an experiment in harmony, proclaiming in a whisper, “I just wish that I didn’t feel that there’s something I missed.” Bennington then declares that he’d “give it all away for someone to come home to.” Poor rock star! It’s lonely on the road! The song doesn’t build much, but the piano is pretty and Bennington actually shows some vocal prowess on this track- not LYRICAL prowess- he just sings well here.

In Pieces cranks things back up, opening with a synth-xylophone and techno drum track. No matter how hard this band tries, though, they cannot escape the cliché-firing-assault-rifle that is Bennington’s head- “Your lips say that you love/ Your eyes say hate,” then some more about not lying, keeping secrets, etc. Meanwhile the band has found a new sound on this track, as guitars become poppy and reminiscent of early No Doubt. Drums flow at a steady dance-pace and there’s even a skilled guitar-solo and some fun vinyl-scratching.

Live From Soho concludes with rocker “Bleed It Out,” with Shinoda finally displaying the rapping-vocal-style he’s known for. Unfortunately, I didn’t find his lyrics to be much different than in any other track I’ve heard from him. Like one of their other songs, here he sings about how something won’t get better “no matter how hard (he) tries.” Bennington screams “I’ll make you faceless,” and repeats the line “Just to throw it away,” over and over. Coincidentally these lyrics sound like he’s actually singing “Chester, throw it away!” Throw your lyric notepad away, Chester. Take your own advice!

Though “Live From Soho” is a decent demonstration of Linkin Park’s abilities as a live band, with lyrics as noticeably bad as Chester Bennington’s on EVERY SONG, this album would not be lying with a title like “Dead From Chester.”

LOL (Living Out Loud)

2008-03-04T00:03:00.000-08:00

Living Out Loud is a movie I couldn't remember from 1998. The film finds Holly Hunter's character on the brink of divorce, opening with a calm confrontation between her and her husband. The scene has played out onscreen many times before but only here did the actor choose to slump his head into his propped up hand. I'm kidding- this acting choice is only a minor flaw.

Though as a whole I did not find the film to be very entertaining or engaging, I did find myself relating to many of its themes. Throughout the movie Hunter's character experiences a series of precognitive fantasies, experiencing things in her mind the way she wishes they will happen before they actually transpire, and when they actually do, what she wanted to happen doesn't actually happen. Phew. It seems she has been stuck making the easy choice throughout her life- the easy choice of not confronting her husband about his adultery; not getting to know the local singer who she is practically a groupie for; not getting to know the doorman of her apartment building. Ultimately she makes a decision to return to medical school, and the film deals with her journey of rediscovery as she awakens to all of the things she has ignored in her life by simply making the easy choice.

A moment I found particularly engaging was when she had a brief, harmless fling with a character played wonderfully by Elias Koteas. On her way to the restroom, she stumbles into a storage room of some kind, where Koteas's character assaults her with a full-on kiss. Realizing he has made a mistake, he apologizes- but Hunter wasn't necesarily looking for an apology. Sadly, unless I missed something, this whole scene was another fantasy.

Eventually Hunter makes a tough decision about Danny deVito's character- she could have stayed with him and been in love, but she chose not to rush in and to truly rediscover herself. Bad, but not sad timing as she returns to her favorite nightclub to find him singing to his new love. Hunter's character seems at peace and finally content with the endless stream of thoughts she experienced throughout the film's duration.

I wish I could paint a wittier picture of this film, but it is what it is- a piece that conveys a common sense of anxiety that we all experience at some point. I just wish it would have taken more risks. It seemed like every risky plot-point was softened- deVito was never truly in danger from his debtors- they sent a high school kid to speak to him! Hunter "lets loose" in an all-girl club- with a hug? Hunter takes ecstasy and mauls deVito and then apologizes? It just left me feeling a bit "meh." I didn't feel for anyone at all aside from relating to non-stop thoughts on restless nights.

As reviewer Maria Garcia from FilmJournal.com says, "If you live in Manhattan, you know women like Judith (Holly Hunter), the 40-something, Upper East Side divorce who put her ex-husband through medical school. He left her for a younger woman. Judith shops on Madison Avenue, sometimes ventures 'downtown' to 57th Street and, while she may have a job, it's more of a hobby than a career. Richard LaGravenese's heroine in Living Out Loud isn't Everywoman, but for New Yorkers, she's part of the landscape, a woman you occasionally see pictured on the society page attending a charity art auction." Unfortunately I have never even been to Manhatten, and Judith is just not a woman I am interested in knowing, and that is where the film ultimately fails- its demographic is just too narrow.

Echo: The Student Magazine of Columbia College Chicago (zzzzzzz)

2008-02-19T00:14:00.000-08:00

If Rolling Stone is a "Professional Magazine" about pop-culture and trendy politics and activism, then Echo is exactly what it claims to be- although where the authors intended that post-script to mean "a magazine created by students," it comes off literal- this thing is amateur hour.

Perhaps I've been in complete denial about the political atmosphere- or lack-thereof- at my school. And maybe it's because I'm probably older than the kids running this thing. But there it is, right there on page seven, in the "From The Staff" opening letter:

"We created this magazine in fifteen weeks while balancing a full load of classes and hefty work schedule." Fifteen weeks later and I just ate the whole pasty-white thing in one uninspired sitting. The cover is a metaphor for what this magazine is- a blonde white girl holding up a peace-sign while she stands in front of legal graffiti carrying spray-paint cans. But don't go to sleep just yet.

It's certainly not from a lack of trying. Echo is a highly polished publication written, grammar-wise, exceptionally well. And that is the last time you'll see that adjective used in this article.

Topics range from black-market U-Passes to a troubled film-production involving the reunion of legendary band The MC5. The problems show, though, in the abundance of blank-page space found throughout the issue- there just isn't much to read about anything anywhere at any given time, and the graphic designers have failed to fill in the blanks with anything too snazzy.

For instance, in the article "Health & Wealth- which organic foods are worth the extra cost?" one could skip the article and just look at the list in a lefthand sidebar titled "The Dirty-Dozen- eat organic all the time," which lists right there which organic foods are worth the cost. Delving into the "meat" of this veggie article the reader goes on to find that- shock!- "Small amounts of pesticides probably don't pose an immediate threat to human health, but long-term accumulation..." Bla-bla-bla. I get it. Someone didn't want to research pesticides and health on their own so they threw in the word probably after probably studying up on Wikipedia. As if common sense and media indoctrination hadn't informed us all years ago about the "maybes" of pesticide ingestion on our fruit.

Echo has an article on page 17 titled "What Happened? A minute-by-minute recap of 9/11" which does nothing more than highlight someone else's "genius" 9/11 timeline that contains "5,000 facts" and was featured in Esquire Magazine. Are there any journalists working for this magazine? Is there anyone that WANTS to be a journalist writing for this magazine?

The overall softness to the publication is its ultimate demise. "Kinky Conversation" hits the hard topic of dealing with fetishes in a relationship. This article is assisted by a sex therapist but reads like a minister wrote it. One fetish example used was "feet-sucking," and in the article's final paragraph, the author and co-author "sex-columnist" finally grow a pair and hit the topic of threesomes in the most anticlimactic advice-column shoulder-shrugging I have ever read. I suppose everyone can't be Dan Savage, but give me a break.

A piece that had potential to be hard-hitting and informative about the Sudan comes in about sixteen pages too short at a whopping 2/3 of a page. The article about the MC5 reunion film is titled "From The Cutting Room to the court room: What every artist should know about intellectual property law." I suppose the bottom line in this story is, "Get it in writing," but the title doesn't fit the article at all. The article is about Columbia students that got screwed over by The MC5. As a fan of the MC5 and a Columbia College student and occasional videographer I would have liked to see the article titled, "MC5 Screws Over Columbia College Filmmakers. Students warned to Get It In Writing."

The most well-written thing in the magazine shines light on an important local issue- an overcrowded special-needs school. This article is Echo's sole redeemer, aside from possibly some profiles of artists who I am not familiar with but would probably appreciate if I were a fan.

Sadly, the most in-depth piece throughout the whole issue is supposedly about "defining Patriotism", and profiles a racist, homophobic Christian extremist group. As I try not to let my emotions get the best of me here, I am cringing that the biggest spotlight in the whole publication shines on that awful extremist group in a "massive" two-page article.

The rest is pure filler with no edge whatsoever ("Time To Stop Partying"; "Is Andersonville Becoming Mandersonville"- nothing like reading about gay people who are apparently intolerant of other genders) . I am thoroughly disappointed that my school's "magazine" contains not a single voice of political dissent. The closing page "Protest Playlist" attempts to find rebellion in main-stream pop and rock and roll. Note to readers: any list about rebellious music that includes Linkin Park and Coldplay was probably not written by a person that knows anything about rebellion.

Echo is The Anti-Rebel. It is vanilla without any of the sweet vanilla flavor that keeps vanilla timeless and enjoyable. Sorry, Echo. I didn't enjoy you. I may have even developed an allergy to you.

A line drawn in the sand: a reflection on Pepsi/ Call to action

2008-02-11T22:50:00.000-08:00

Pepsi: The anti-Coke. There is really no other way to sum up the choice of a new generation.

I wasn't there for Coca-Cola's inception, nor was I there for Pepsi's. I bet they were both pretty delicious inceptions, though, and while Coke has had its fair share of controversies and formula changes throughout the years, it's Pepsi that plays the part of underdog that keeps on kicking ass generation after generation in the face of that bright red, polar-bear-branded mogul.

I grew up rooting for Pepsi. For some reason I just didn't dig Coke. It left my mouth dry on hot summer days and kept my teeth feeling chalky and weird. Pepsi was different: Sweet. Sparkly. Frosty. Delicious. I grew up in the days of the Pepsi Challenge at Westwood Mall.

I remember the Pepsi Challenge like it was yesterday. I was ten years old and standing in line to take a taste-test to see if I could blindly decide from two choices which was Pepsi and which was Coke. If I could correctly identify Pepsi, I would win a Pepsi Texas card or something like that which would feel like a credit card to me in my little kid wallet and 1991 fanny-pack. (God, I had a cool fanny pack. I could fit my entire Gameboy in there and a pile of games to go with it. Even a battery charger.)

I stepped up for the challenge. I loved Pepsi; this would be easy. I reached up to the counter, grabbed Cup A, and took a sip.

Inconclusive!

I reached for Cup B.

Crud!

Cup A again.

"Is it Cup A?"

I was duped! Duped by Coca-Cola into thinking it was Pepsi!

I had failed Pepsi. I had failed the world.

Throughout the years Pepsi made a lot of Steve Jobs moves way before Steve Jobs started making Steve Jobs moves again in the late-nineties and two-thousands. Crystal Pepsi, anyone?

If you don't remember Crystal Pepsi than you probably missed out on one of the greatest cola drinks ever released. Luckily we had VCR's:

What part about "caffeine free" and Sammy Hagar's voice over Eddie Van Halen's guitars and pianos, Alex Van Halen's drums, and Michael Anthony's bass and backing vocals did not make you want to drink refreshing, delicious Crystal Pepsi? This is not a rhetorical question, Universe- I want an answer. I want to know in crystal-clear terms why you couldn't handle a crystal-clear soda. I want to know when it's coming back. I only have two cans left and they're in my parents' attic in a box. They're not even cold as far as I know, but then again it is an attic. I need more. I want more.

Crystal Pepsi was like a decaffeinated neutron-bomb to the collective American psyche. That's what went wrong. People just couldn't handle it. Often times the truth is initially mocked. Look what happened to Galileo. The same will be said true of Crystal Pepsi's impact on the planet years from now. (Just look how Saturday Night Live, my favorite show in the early nineties, brutally mocked my favorite beverage:)

Is Pepsi going to change the world with its new "Wake Up, People!" campaign and the Pepsi: Max beverage? Time will tell. I haven't tried the drink, but with a name like Pepsi: Max, it would be the company's ultimate demise if they hadn't actually developed the ultimate cola-drink. That's what Max means: Ultimate. For now I'm going to say yes- just look at this list of ingredients:

Peps: Max *Official Ingredients List: invigorating zero-calorie cola; ginseng; more caffeine.

Pepsi has drawn a veritable line in the sand with the world's population this time. You're either with Pepsi:Max or against Pepsi. Wake up, America. It's Pepsi's time to shine.

*Official may not necessarily mean Official.

Oh, this weather. Ooh- the paper!

2008-02-04T22:56:00.001-08:00

I'm not much of a newspaper guy. MySpace has ruined that for me. With MySpace I have unlimited access to my network of open-minded internet geeks- bulletin-addicts, to be more specific. I get my news from the web, but mostly it gets passed on to me through bulletins. From bulletin-addicts.

However, deadlines call for reviews, and convenience calls for that review to be of....drumroll, please....(pulls a small piece of paper out of an attractive female companion's top-hat)...The Columbia...ahem...Chronicle.

I'm not mocking the paper right off the bat! I'm mocking papers. Not just papers but mainstream media. I'll take an honest, skeptical blogger or bulletin-head any day over some made-up shill that gets paid to play my father figure on a program called the news. It's called a program for a reason, you know- because it programs you.

Okay. A topic's a topic and a tangent is a tangent, and I could literally go on forever blogging against the machine. Onto the Chronicle.

I've only picked up the Chronicle once or twice before. (Did I mention at all my disdain for traditional media?) Nothing really stood out to me about the paper. I knew my friend Matt Fagerholm wrote film reviews for the publication but beyond that had never given it a second glance.

The cover caught my interest immediately and I ain't just sayin' that. As a Chicago resident of the past four years, I have seen signs regarding this mysterious, "The Pedway," before. I had never dared to venture into this land of wonder, but had wanted to, and now there was a photo of "The Pedway" right on the front cover. I turned right to page 23 as directed.

They tricked me on page 23. The first page of the article blends right in with other full-page ads in the paper. Beyond that page, things were fantastic with regard to the "The Pedway" article. I can't wait to explore this uncharted no-man's-shopping-and-garbage-mecca for myself.

Back to the cover. The Chronicle could benefit from a shrink. Not a therapist- just a slim-down, similar to the size and shape of The Onion. I'd like that.

The other article which caught my attention in this publication was the lower-right corner blurb and computer-graphic of a potential Wrigleyville renovation at Clark and Addison. I enjoy Clark and Addison and particularly the i.O. Theater and had to find out what was happening with this planned neighborhood menace.

To my surprise, the article interviewed i.O. owner Charna Halpern, who wholeheartedly endorsed the building of the monstrosity, which includes a hotel. I'm in- let's be monsters, Wrigleyville!

I perused the remainder of The Chronicle, even reading several articles. I genuinely enjoyed the quality of the writing (With the exception of a piece on The federal Reserve and interest-cuts- That's for another blog entirely). The E-I-C even seemed to be writing her opening to me personally. Thanks, Amanda Maurer. Oh- and my pal Matt Fagerholm is still writing fantastic film reviews, now with a sharp photo of the little guy.

Think Tank at Chicago Sketch Fest 2008

2008-01-29T12:42:00.000-08:00

"On the moon! Being born! On the moon! With Al Gore! Everybody do my humper dumper/Come on baby do my humper dump!"

Who doesn't remember the lyrics from pop-icon Slarv Chestal's infamous hit, "Humper Dumper," from...the...past...?

Okay- I confess. I don't remember that song either. But for anyone needing a refresher, hit this link: Slarv Chestal: Humper Dumper

Sketch Comedy group Think Tank kicked off their evening of mayhem and debauchery by announcing the return of Chestal to a rabid audience. After a brief opening that could only be described as "theatrically blue-balling" the audience, Think Tank hit the countdown on their on-stage Time-Clock, promising Chestal's return at the conclusion of a thirty-three minute countdown.

The ensemble, four Chicago comedy veterans, proceeded to tear away the audience's preconceived notion of what a sketch comedy show is. Diving into characters so off-the-wall right from the start, Think Tank is a comedic dirty-bomb that blows apart all conventions of sketch comedy, leaving every member of the audience in dire need of a handful of Cipro and a long, hot shower.

Tank also brutally mocked traditional stage shows by parodying other groups' use of stage space in a make-believe fashion that commonly finds ensembles using said space to convey the illusion of multiple locations- all while simultaneously lampooning corporate, pretentious business-men in a brilliant send up of a job interview.

During the closing crescendo, Slarv Chestal (Played brilliantly by Kevin "Cappy" Carroll) proceeded to hump and thrust his persona all over the stage. As Chestal sat down to catch his breath, his classic video played on-screen in the background, the other members of Tank, when not jumping up and down on trampolines, proceeded to douse the stage with buckets of confetti. The audience both laughed and cringed as Tank'er Paul Robinson accidentally kicked one of the buckets full-on into the face of an audience member.

Think Tank is a driving, visceral sketch comedy experience like no other, kicking metaphoric buckets into the faces of all in attendance. Check them out at The Apollo Theater on Thursday nights now through March 6. I assure you: you will not leave the Apollo with theatrical blue-balls.

Think Tank Experiments With Thunder January 24 - March 6, 2008 Thursday at 8pm. Tickets are $10 General Admission and $8 for students with ID.

www.myspace.com/thinktankcomedy