Archive IV - Jambase.com

Most recently, I reviewed a Big Sam's Funky Nation show for Jambase. You can read it HERE.

Of Phish, Public Speaking, and Transcendence

At this point down the line, it is established that I am a huge believer in the collective consciousness experience that a good live concert can provide an audience. If the band is on, and the audience is receptive and attentive, and everything is lined up just so, then a live show can turn into something much greater than the sum of its parts. During such a gathering, the interaction between performer and audience has the ability to change perceptions, and achieve a profound collective experience that can't be found anywhere else in today's day and age. It is a sort of transcendental contact between performer and audience, a synergy of communion that connects together all who are present and participating in the event.

With the recent Phish reunion shows at the Hampton Coliseum, this phenomenon has naturally been on my mind. The band's epic, marathon sets have reminded us all of their absence, and how much the cathartic celebrations that are Phish shows have been missed. To get an audience of 15 to 25,000 people to all groove on the same wavelength and in the same headspace is no easy feat, and there is no band today that is able to achieve this feat as effortlessly as Phish can. Phish chose Hampton for these shows, as the venue is particularly conducive to the collective band/audience experience.

But then I got thinking: considering the live electric concert experience has really only existed for about 50 years now, we are extremely lucky to be able to experience such phenomena. Before rock and roll, before electricity and amplification, where did people turn for a good rousing dose of collective mindmeld? In America's past, say 150-250 years ago, what events had the ability to bring large groups of people together in this way?

The answer seems to be public oratory. Public speakers of the 18^th and 19^th centuries had the ability to gather massive crowds, and the best ones had the ability to profoundly move their audience to a point of transformation. It seems that in those olden days, these events were the closest thing the public had to a live concert. There is an excellent essay by Granville Ganter, entitled “'Tuning In': Daniel Webster, Alfred Schultz, and the Grateful Dead,” in which the author compares the speeches of Daniel Webster with Grateful Dead concerts. Back in the day, people gathered in massive numbers to hear Webster deliver passionate oratory, and were greatly moved by his words. Ganter mentions that in 1840, more than 15,000 people climbed up Mt. Stratton in Vermont to hear Webster speak. This reminds me all too well of Phish's final days in 2004, when thousands of Phishheads stranded in traffic walked up to 25 miles to reach the mud-filled festival site of the band's last shows in Coventry, Vermont. In both cases, we see an audience's intense willingness to go through great lengths to be a part of a special communal event.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, the modern grandaddy of western transcendent thought, was a huge fan of Webster. (He had a huge collection of bootleg Webster shows on tape. “Webster at Plymouth Plantation, 12/22/20? Heady, brah! Set two is killer!”) Emerson defined good oratory as “collective ecstasy,” where audience participation made the event by fusing the speaker with the audience. And in an age before amplification, this meant even more during such events. Emerson wrote that oratory is “an organ of sublime power...But only then is the orator successful when he... is as much a hearer as any in the assembly.” What's that? Breaking down the barriers between audience and performer? Provoking a mystical experience of collective union? Hey, that sounds familiar...

To take it even further back, we can go to one Mr. Ben Franklin's word on the subject. Back in his day, most public speaking was still done by preachers, and religious in nature. Regardless, the best speakers of the time still had the ability to profoundly move massive groups of people. Franklin had a particular love for the sermons of one Reverend George Whitefield, as he preached of morals, and not religious dogma. The following recollection of Franklin's took place around 1740:

His eloquence had a wonderful power over the hearts and purses of his hearers, of which I myself was an instance...He had a loud and clear voice, and articulated his words and sentences so perfectly, that he might be heard and understood at a great distance, especially as his auditories, however numerous, observ'd the most exact silence. He preach'd one evening from the top of the Court-house steps...Both streets were fill'd with his hearers to a considerable distance...I computed that he might well be heard by more than thirty thousand...Every accent, every emphasis, every modulation of voice, was so perfectly well turn'd and well plac'd, that, without being interested in the subject, one could not help being pleas'd with the discourse; a pleasure of much the same kind with that receiv'd from an excellent piece of music.

Right from Franklin's mouth, folks. The Court-house steps must have had a rowdy lot scene.

So be it the year 1740, 1840, or 2009, the public's desire to experience a profound moment of transcendental contact has always existed. Except back in the day, the heavyweights were orators like Daniel Webster and George Whitefield. So I suppose that makes live bands like the Dead and Phish our modern-day preachers, serving up hefty doses of collective transcendence on a regular basis. Try to remember this the next time you're blissing out to a sick “Slave” or “Hood,” as it is good to recall how lucky we are to have these bands in our lives.

Archive III - Jambase.com

Check out my published review of the new Jimmy Herring solo album Lifeboat.

JB, MJ and the Purple One Share A Stage!!!

If you were to rate the top five most influential artists in the history of Funk/R&B, the high priests would undoubtedly include James Brown, Michael Jackson, and Prince. Combined, what they have done more for dance music is absolutely staggering, and they all are considered the masters of their own genres. They are the untouchables of Funky Dance Music, and here they are, together on one stage. We are lucky enough to have footage of this incredible event, though it is crappy. The planets must have been aligned perfectly for an event of this magnitude to have ever occurred!



MJ appears shy, but brings the house down with his pure talent. He then insists to JB that Prince be introduced as well. Prince knows full well he can't top MJ, and doesn't even try. Instead, he opts for a spectacle. Riding in on the back of a hairy white guy, he appears very fucked up on something. He doesn't even bother singing, and instead rapes the shit out of a guitar for a while before pulling some random sexy stage antics. He then stumbles off stage, taking a piece of the set with him. The JB is all like, "Hey Prince, you forgot your shirt! Don't forget it on your way out."

If I had witnessed this event live, my head would have exploded. Simply and utterly EPIC.

Love Songs

Not that I ever do this, but considering the Grammies were last night, today I suddenly got an inkling to poke my head into the bizarre world that we call "popular music." I haven't paid any attention to the "chart-toppers" and "hit singles" in many, many years. Probably since the late 90s, when that horrible swarm of boy-bands descended upon and destroyed what was left of MTV, which was already on its death-bed by then.

So today I checked out the Billboard Hot 100 list, and with mild surprise, discovered that it is Kelly Clarkson who currently tops out the charts at #1 with her touching love song, beautifully titled, "My Life Would Suck Without You." Imagine Casey Kasem introducing that. Jesus fucking Christ.

But I suppose that there always has been and always will be musical drivel to feed to the masses. And if there has been one constant in the history of rock and roll over the past fifty years that has never gone out of style, it has been the universal appeal of the love song. (This does go back much further, to Tin Pan Alley and Sinatra and the crooners, but Rock is our main lexicon here.) From Elvis' "I Love You Because" in 1955 to "My Life Would Suck Without You," there has always been room for another pop nugget love song to give the world, regardless if it's a lovely gem, or a polished turd.

Given that most popular love songs are disposable fluff, there is no denying that it is not easy to write a love song that's simultaneously loved by millions and respected as actually having substance, as a form of art. Phil Spector was very good at this in the early 60's, and don't even get me started with soul music and Motown. But there is no denying that there really only has been one band to succeed in making high art out of love songs so often, and at such a consistently high level – obviously, The Beatles.

They were so good for so many reasons, and good love songs were really at the core of it all, especially at the beginning. One after another, they kept pumping these vital tracks out, and out of all those amazing love songs, only the occasional McCartney song came across as sappy in any way ("Michelle").

By '67 or so, once they had accepted their positions on the high throne of youth culture, The Beatles had assumed and embraced their roles as troubadours of Love. Their love songs had progressively gotten more and more complex through the Rubber Soul and Revolver albums, saying smart things about ambiguity, pleasure and guilt that had never been done in pop music at the time. They had mastered the craft of writing meaningful love songs, and were at the top of their game. Then Lennon went ahead and took it to a whole other level, summing it ALL up with the universal "All You Need is Love," which was premiered to the world in the first-ever global satellite television broadcast. Soon after, he realized he couldn't really take it any further than that. It seems to me that that song was essentially the climax of the Lennon-McCartney love song era, and they mostly dropped off the love theme after that. The best Beatles love songs post-Revolver were George songs, as he seems to have taken the torch from John and Paul while they explored other aspects of songwriting. Case in point: "Something." This is perhaps the best love song EVER, in the history of all songs. Frank Sinatra himself is known to have said that “Something” is his favorite Lennon-McCartney song.

Then The Beatles broke up. But the love songs continued, and at a pretty consistent quality. John, Paul and George have all contributed their fair share of lovely little ditties of love post-Beatles, though Paul has been guilty the most often of slipping into saccharine, sickly-sweet ballads that suck. Of note is his garish ballad "My Love," a Wings song that has to be the weakest, sappiest, poutiest puppy-dog-eyed McCartney ballad ever (way too many wubba wubs). This song reached #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 during June 1973. Fittingly enough, it was knocked out of the #1 spot at the end of June by George Harrison's far superior new single, "Give Me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth)," which is a great forgotten track.

Perhaps in response to the bashing he got for the sucky "My Love," Paul came out a few years later with "Silly Love Songs," with lyrics which pretty much sum it all up:

You'd think that people would have had enough of silly love songs.
But I look around me and I see it isn't so.
Some people wanna fill the world with silly love songs.
And what's wrong with that?
I'd like to know, 'cause here I go again
I love you, I love you,
I love you, I love you...

Well spoken, Sir Paul. A good love song is a song for all people, everywhere. So I suppose that songs like "My Love," or "My Life Would Suck Without You" do bring lots of pleasure to many people, regardless of the fact that they really, really suck. They are evidence that there will always be another silly love song to add to the long list.

And now, a list of all the Beatles Love Songs, meaning, the best love songs ever written:

• All My Loving

• All You Need Is Love

• And I Love Her

• Can't Buy Me Love

• From Me To You

• Hold Me Tight

• I Feel Fine

• I Wanna Be Your Man

• I Wanna Hold Your Hand

• I Want You (She's So Heavy) (love turned raunchy)

• I'll Get You

• It's Only Love

• Love Me Do

• Love You To (Harrison)

• Lovely Rita

• Michelle (my belle, mi amore...)

• Please Please Me

• PS I Love You

• Real Love (actually a Lennon song before being overdubbed in the 90s)

• She Loves You

• Something (Harrison)

• You've Got to Hide Your Love Away (Lennon's anti-love breakup song)

Post-Beatles Solo Career songs about Love:

Lennon:

• Love (Plastic Ono Band)

• Oh My Love

• Nobody Loves You (When You're Down and Out) (written during his breakup with Yoko, when he became a depressed party-animal)

• Woman

• Every Man Has A Woman Who Loves Him

• Dear Yoko

• Grow Old With Me

Harrison:

• I Dig Love

• Give Me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth)

• The Lord Loves the One (That Loves the Lord)

• Māya Love

• Ooh Baby (You Know That I Love You)

• Can't Stop Thinking About You

• Learning How to Love You

• Love Comes to Everyone

• Your Love Is Forever

• Wake Up My Love

• This is Love

And McCartney, the hopeless romantic. Sometimes pouty and too soft, but always catchy and melodic:

• Lovely Linda

• Maybe I'm Amazed (at the way you Love me all the time)

• Love is Strange

• My Love
  

• One More Kiss

• Love in Song

• Silly Love Songs
  

• Girlfriend (originally written with Michael Jackson in mind as the singer, MJ later covered it on Off the Wall)

• Through Our Love

• Only Love Remains

• Don't Be Careless Love

• Motor of Love

• The Lovers That Never Were

• Heather (Written for Heather Mills, the one-legged gold-digger)

• Your Loving Flame

In Voluptate Mors

So I'm walking down Haight St. one sunny afternoon in the summer of 2006, shootin' the shit with my buddy Eddie. This is our first time in San Francisco, so we're taking it all in, browsing the storefronts. We soon pass an art gallery, and I see an image that stops me in my tracks. "What the fuck is that?" I blurt out. I take a step closer and peer through the storefront glass, and this is what I see:

"That is the coolest poster I have ever seen," I say. "I must own it. It shall be the centerpiece of my home. I will have dinner parties, and we will sip martinis, gaze up at the framed masterpiece, and have passionate discussions aroused by the dichotomies and contradictions brought up in its powerful imagery." I quickly pull out a piece of scrap paper and write down the name of the work: In Voluptate Mors, by Salvador Dalí & Philippe Halsman, taken in 1951. Needless to say, after checking out the pricetag on the framed print, I pass on the purchase, promising to myself I will own it someday. Oh yes, it will be mine. Someday, Alice, Someday.

Needless to say, I have yet to find a worthy print of this masterwork within my price range. But lets examine this work for a moment, shall we? There is a lot going on here. Not much really needs to be said, as the image really speaks for itself, with the beautiful female image contorted into a grotesque grin of death. And the look on Dalí's face? Fear. Also, distance and aloofness, which make it more unsettling. I'll let you take from the piece what you will, but there is no denying it is a totally original work. I've never seen anything like it before.

Which is why I was disappointed, but not surprised, to find that Hollywood has gotten its grubby little hands on this piece and plagiarized it nice and good. The first use of this image I approve of, as it is actually very clever. It is more of an homage, as it is subtle. Here is the original Silence of the Lambs poster:

On its own it is a haunting image, very well executed and subtle in its menacing softness. The skull on the moth's back emphasizes this dichotomy of muted fear. But take a really close look at the skull, and there it is:

Brilliant. I can get behind this usage of the image. Thematically, it fits right in with the poster. Moths, as well as nude women, are both considered soft, delicate creatures. Here, they are both branded with death, contradicting themselves. I can dig that. Thumbs up for Silence of the Lambs.

It was a number of years before Hollywood decided to use usurp this image as a promotional tool again, and this time, the results were not as inspired, or as subtle. Apparently, the same can be said for the film itself, though I have not seen it. I'll let the poster speak for itself:

The Descent was released in 2006, and apparently it is a well-executed horror flick which balances gore with psychological terror (claustrophobia, etc.) But the poster is shit, just a total rip-off. To someone who has never seen the original, it probably is pretty cool, but it should be considered pure plagiarism. The obvious factor which ruins the imagery is that the girls are clothed, with hiking boots on. Also, the dark and light is inverted. Both of these changes destroy any meaningful imagery inherent in the original, leaving an empty shell of an image. The best response this poster is capable of getting is a, "hey, that's a cool poster!" But alas, nothing more.

Hopefully, if anyone else decides to plagiarize this original masterpiece, they will have the good sense to respect it as art, and do it tastefully.

Until then, I will be sitting in my armchair, legs crossed with pipe and bathrobe, gazing quizzically up at my gold-framed artist's proof of In Voluptate Mors, contemplating the fragile, beautiful mess that is the human condition.

Le Voyage Dans La Lune

So I've recently been having some nostalgia about old-school MTV, when they played music videos on a regular basis, many of them being very good and creative! What a concept! Sadly, these days are gone, but luckily, MTV has launched mtvmusic.com, where you can look up just about any video that you crave, and watch it.

That being said, one of my all-time favorite videos is the Smashing Pumpkins' "Tonight, Tonight."



It is beautiful in its surrealistic imagery, and the video actually has a coherent, structured plot that is engaging and entertaining the entire way through. The plot consists of a Victorian space-ship take-off and moon-landing, and the music is elegantly complimented by the original cinematography. Bottom line, one of the best videos ever.

But did you know that it actually takes its entire storyline, literally scene-by-scene, from a French silent film from 1902? The film, by Georges Mlis, is called Le Voyage Dans La Lune, and is considered the first science-fiction film ever made.



It is inspired by Jules Verne's book From the Earth to the Moon, and contains some brilliant special effects, that still hold up over 100 years later. Most memorable is the iconic image of the man in the moon getting hit in the eye with the spaceship. I love all the imagery and scenes in the original film, many of them are pretty bizarre.

After watching the original film, then re-watching the Smashing Pumpkins' version, completely new dimensions are added to the music video. The video stands up great on its own as a work of art, but once it's viewed as an homage to the original, it gains an entirely new level of depth, while at the same time losing some of its originality.

Actually, now that I think about it, that image of the man in the moon used to haunt my dreams as a small child... and I don't even remember where I first saw it! I guess that means it's pretty effective imagery.

Just want a little Taste...

Midnight on a carousel ride
Reaching for the gold ring down inside

Never could reach
It just slips away, but I try...

-Robert Hunter (Grateful Dead), "Crazy Fingers"

An immortal instinct, deep within the spirit of man, is thus, plainly, a sense of the Beautiful. This it is which administers to his delight in the manifold forms, and sounds, and odours, and sentiments amid which he exists… [But] There is still a something in the distance which he has been unable to attain. We have still a thirst unquenchable, to allay which he has not shown us the crystal springs. This thirst belongs to the immortality of man. It is at once a consequence and an indication of his perennial existence. It is the desire of the moth for the star. It is no mere appreciation of the Beauty before us - but a wild effort to reach the Beauty above. Inspired by an ecstatic prescience of the glories beyond the grave, we struggle, by multiform combinations among the things and thoughts of Time, to attain a portion of that Loveliness whose very elements, perhaps, appertain to eternity alone. And thus when Poetry – or when by Music, the most entrancing of the Poetic moods – we find ourselves melted into tears – we weep then – not as the Abbate Gravina supposes – through excess of pleasure, but through a certain, petulant, inpatient sorrow at our inability to grasp now, wholly, here on earth, at once and for ever, those divine and rapturous joys, of which through the poem, or through the music, we attain to but brief and indeterminate glimpses.

- Edgar Allan Poe, “The Poetic Principle”

All lovers live by longing, and endure:
Summon a vision and declare it pure.

- Theodore Roethke, from “The Vigil”

The one thing that we yearn for in our living days, that makes us sigh and groan and undergo sweet nauseas of all kinds, is the remembrance of some lost bliss that was probably experienced in the womb and can only be reproduced (though we hate to admit it) in death. But who wants to die?

- Jack Kerouac, On the Road

And so we live on, day by day, looking forward to the next occasion we find to get a taste. Cause that's all that we really need to rejuvenate ourselves, is just a taste of it. The taste comes through art, or music, or love, or whatever. And it's that continual anticipation of our next taste that keeps us going.

Thought you'd enjoy some philosophical ranting for a change. Gettin' deep and heavy is good for ya every once and a while, we should try it more often.