Beginning to see the light

An essay (PDF) by Ellen Willis about feminism and punk. More on Willis, the New Yorker's pop critic in the late '60s and '70s, from Sasha Frere-Jones, New Yorker's current pop critic.

It's got some really interesting insights, as well as a perspective that seems bafflingly quaint — really, you thought "God Save the Queen" was from "All the Young Dudes"? — but part of the essay is how Willis came to really get punk (the Brits showed her how) and love it, and it gives a nice counterpoint to the general narrative of punk being the sudden blast that killed Prog or Arena Rock or whatever. (It didn't.) Instead, Willis complains of having to explain to editors that punk wasn't tragically retro, too passe for publication.

And along the way, she nails some themes (like the too-apologetic-to-rock female rock band or the brief suggestion of class issues in disco glam) that resonate with contemporary music pretty presciently, along with making me think more about one of my least favorite Sex Pistol tunes ("Bodies" always felt like a less funny "Belsen Was a Gas").

A brief defense of terrible things

There are two things any article about Odd Future needs to feature: That they're pretty rapey, and that white critics like them.

This is especially important to mention this if you are a white critic.

Since the album came out nearly two weeks ago, most critics have had it for months and are clearly bored of it — you can see this by the "let's cover the coverage" meta-stage we're in now, where Cord Jefferson makes a whole article out of telling listeners why they really like it (or at least why white critics like it — fetishizing black man's rage again.

(He ends with a doozy: "Ike Turner, Mike Tyson, Chris Brown -- all lack men whose anger went from latent to gruesome, and whose reputations were shattered irrevocably in the process. Because the fetishization of black aggression has its limits. And while white people love to hear you say you're going to beat and rape some women, God help you if you ever actually do it."

Poor Dominique Strauss-Kahn learned that the hard way.)

So, briefly:

OF has beats I like and flows I like, and the cartoonish rape is part of a cartoonishly violent world they create. But I like metal and I like skatepunk and I don't mind stuff that's intentionally gross or gruesome, so long as there's something else there. It's not for everyone, but while race is part of the context of OF, it's not nearly as important to me as the aesthetic norms of the rest of the stuff I listen to. Putting a lot of emotional charge into the cartoony rage and violence would distract me from both the other stuff going on in the music that I like, and the sense of humor I think OF comes across with.

Which means that I find the defenses of OF on the "Freaking out the squares" tip to be pretty bullshit too — it's constant talk about the least interesting part of the music, like focusing on just how Satanic metal bands are.

In a post about The Game, can there not be a 50 Cent reference?

Nitsuh Abebe writes on Jessica Hopper writing on Nitsuh Abebe writing on Jessica Hopper writing on Vampire Weekend

I like Abebe, generally dislike Hopper, and couldn't care less about Vampire Weekend. I am interested in identity politics in pop music, and the question of whiteness that Abebe writes on is pretty compelling. As someone prone to toss around the phrase "white" to mean bourgie, I feel like I should take a swing at some of the nuance I think Abebe misses there.

First off, it's worth noting that Abebe handily skips over the question of whether being bourgie is worth criticizing, if that's the central complaint of "whiteness." And, frankly, it is. Abebe's point that it's bourgeois to criticize the bourgeois (therefore implicitly hypocritical) is fair, but that doesn't mean that the criticism is wrong.

Second, and I think Abebe misses this fully, there's more to the charge of "white" than "bourgeois." It might be handy for Abebe to think about it as French—calling something "blanc," blank, loses some of the most obvious race and class baggage (which is only really tedious because most college educated folks learned it early) and replaces it with what's a common complaint about his e.g. Vampire Weekend, that they're bland.

Their blandness is on track with most other indie blandness, with facile, cheery, clever lyrics, and perfunctory "outside" influence. Vampire Weekend's was afropop by way of Paul Simon's "Graceland." It might just as well have been cellos or ukuleles.

Now, I totally grant that "bland" is a subjective judgment and that a lot of people like Vampire Weekend a lot and that I only downloaded their first album when it came out, listened a couple times, then deleted it (the system works!). But not every smug crack about "whiteness" is unjustified or playing The Game (which Abebe seems to not realize is Nomic). But no one gives a shit when I complain about Coldplay being overhyped, bland, and yes, white.

Joan's On Third

Mmm. Lunch.

Went to Joan's On Third with Phil for lunch. It's an upscale deli/diner with lots of pasta salads. Reminds me of the eatery that used to be in Hudson's when I was a kid.

After some dithering, both Phil and I went with the roasted corn soup and a grilled cheese (mine with a tomato).

The soup was excellent, creamy and well-rounded. It could have benefited from a little more pepper (I'm of the belief that restaurant soups should be seasoned the way I like them without any intervention from me), but for a simple lunch it was right on.

ps. Stole the image from Mikey Hates Everything which has more to say on breakfast at Joan's.

The grilled cheese was less exquisite, but still tasty. Good French bread, good cheddar, decent tomato. For some reason, adding a tomato to mine meant that it took some 15 minutes longer than Phil's, so I was lucky to have the soup. The sweet pickles (made with a crunchy whole seed I couldn't quite place) were fantastic, especially after having sub-par pickles at Label's the other day.

Total damage? $12. Price I would have been totally happy with? $9. A three dollar Beverly Hills surcharge? Yeah, but I'll probably be back. Beats the hell out of $9 at Label's.