Mike Watt recently posted (on the Watt list) the following tribute to Ethan James, the LA producer/engineer probably best known for his work on the Minutemen’s Double Nickels on the Dime, who lost his secret battle with liver cancer last Thursday, June 19th:
>ethan james was a dear friend of mine in this music world. we spent much time together at his radio tokyo studio in venice, ca during the 80s. he’s the man who recorded and mixed the minutemen’s “double nickels on the dime” (mixed all fortyfive songs in one night!) as well as “project: mersh” and the first side of our “buzz or howl…” eps plus our final record, “three-way tie (for last).” he also recorded and mixed the first two fIREHOSE records and all three of the dos ones. I worked w/him producing saccharine trust’s “we became snakes,” the treacherous jaywalkers (josh haden’s first band) first album, phantom opera’s first album and joey eight’s (w/carla bozulich) invisible chains album. I did the crimony (me and paul roessler) single and ep w/him. I actually played w/him too for my part of the ciccone youth single where he programmed the linn drum. I worked w/him lots when it came to me and recording music (along w/my good friend spot, who did all the early minutemen recordings). he was way into jamming econo and never tried to stick me up w/a money scam (quite a rarity in this racket). ethan also had much respect for another’s music and was never dominating or controlling – it was always a pleasure working w/him. he was always patient w/me and such an insightful cat – he had tons of knowledge about all kinds of things – you could never be bored spending lots of time w/ethan!
I liked ethan very much and will miss him so. I have many good memories of him and they will stay w/me always. he was very inspiring. I feel I was very fortunate to meet and work w/such an individual, he instilled much confidence in me to pursue music as an endeavor and not be afraid to take chances. love to you ethan and please rest easy.
In an end note, James was also (under a pseudonym) a member of Blue Cheer, believe it or not. He lead an enviable life, that’s for sure.
(An appendix of sorts to On America’s Imperial Delusion)
Last night whilst reading Naomi Klein‘s collection of articles on the globalisation debate, Fences and Windows, I came across the following paragraph from The Brutal Calculus of Suffering, her speech to the Mediemötet conference in 2001, commenting on the prevailing socio-political climate in the US following September 11:
>Just when Americans most need information about the outside world—and their country’s complicated and troubling place in it—they are only getting themselves reflected back, over and over and over: Americans weeping, Americans recovering, Americans cheering, Americans praying. A media house of mirrors, when what we need are more windows on the world.
Though erring on generalisation, that’s a fair point to make, considering the content of US network news broadcasts (we do get the likes of Rather and Jennings over here, so we’re not making presumptions). And yet, whist mainstream media channels are reluctant to open a window on matters beyond US borders, they appear equally reluctant to reflect the diversity of American society, bar the odd smattering of tokenism. It brings one to ask, doesn’t this help to perpetuate religious/cultural/sexual apartheid on the broadest scale? To reinforce the walls between different cultures and ideas?
Not only is mainstream America seemingly ignorant of the rest of the world, but it also fails to recognise its own dysfunction.
Last night I set the video to tape Cry, The Beloved Country on Channel 4. But that’s not quite what I found on my tape this afternoon…
I had woken up at some point during the night, whilst the video was recording, and glanced at the TV set to see the Big Brother house. Even in my semi-wakeful state, I knew that wasn’t right. I looked again, and saw that it was a flickering still image from the live Big Brother feed, resembling a very low quality video capture. I grabbed for the remote and mashed the buttons, just in case I had switched to something else before falling asleep. But everything had been exactly as I’d left it.
Right channel. Wrong picture.
And yet, the plot thickens. I turned up the sound on the TV, and immediately heard the unmistakable baritone of James Earl Jones. That could only mean one thing. The film was being broadcast, alright; I just couldn’t see it.
_What the fuck is up with that?!?_ Don’t they have people in the broadcast centre who’s job it is to notice these things?? I know it was the middle of the night, but there’s still no excuse for this kind of bullshit.
Of course despite my anger I was so tired that I promptly fell back alseep and forgot about the whole thing until earlier this afternoon. As I rewound the tape to the starting point I thought to myself, _what happened last night was far too real, it couldn’t have been a dream, could it?_
Alas, a dream it was not. The whole film is technically captured on the tape, and potentially enjoyable if, maybe, I were blind: the first 57 minutes, you see, are completely invisible. And not even so much as an acknowledgement, let alone an apology, from Channel 4.
(Presuming that the problem lies with them, that is; though if NTL were responsible there wouldn’t have been any audio either.)
Sure it’s not the end of the world, you might say. But what if they started pulling shit like that all the time? They wouldn’t last much longer if they did. The least Channel 4 can do is reschedule the film for some other night within the next few weeks, but somehow I doubt that’s going to happen.
And so ends my hydrophobic ranting for now. Regular programming (and blood pressure) will resume shortly.
Might our linguistic freedom also reflect the political freedoms we enjoy? Such a question had never dawned on me until I read this enlightening article by Prof. Niloofar Haeri on the democracy of language, and how many in the Arab-speaking world feel tangibly restricted by the orthodox rules of linguistic authority.
The Guardian’s Libby Brooks brought an eye specialist along with her to Tate Britain’s latest show, a retrospective of optical illusionist Bridget Riley.
I can’t say that I knew of Riley before reading the article, but I _was_ familiar with this piece. It’s great to learn that there’s more.
Such a shame, though, that I can’t visit the exhibition. London gets all the good stuff; meanwhile we’re stuck with fucking papier-mâché baloons and carpet tiles.
So there’s been some major controversy surrounding the Royal birthday party that took place over the weekend. And no, I’m not talking about the gatecrasher. I’m talking about the party guests, those posh toffs in all their pseudo-savage, blackfaced glory. I didn’t know that Royal parties doubled as Al Jolson conventions, did you?
In this day and age I never thought I would see such a shameless public exhibition of racism. Unbelievable and disgusting, that’s what it is. And what makes it even worse is that nobody seems to have batted an eyelid. Not even a single mention in the news, except for a one line comment via the Channel 4 News Snowmail service. Disappointing, to say the least.
In a thought-provoking comment piece from last weekend’s Guardian, Eric Hobsbawm attempts to answer the question surrounding America’s supposed drive for world domination. It seems fair to assert that the United States sees itself politically as the big boss man, if you will, but does it follow from this that America wants to conquer the whole world, too?
Hobsbawm doesn’t think so, but that’s not to say there aren’t any with such pretentions. “The sudden emergence of a ruthless, antagonistic flaunting of US power [following the collapse of the Soviet Union] is hard to understand,” he explains, “all the more so since it fits neither with long-tested imperial policies nor the interests of the US economy. But patently a public assertion of global supremacy by military force is what is on the minds of the people at present dominating policy-making in Washington.”
But is this really part of a concerted effort on the part of the US government to conquer the world? Or merely the muscle-flexing of a schoolyard bully, who underneath it all is as scared and insecure as those he intimidates. America is the new kid on the block, after all; the stroppy teenager to Europe’s (ostensibly) mature adults. America has power and influence in abundance, but does not yet have the maturity to handle it responsibly. Not that Europe should be let off the hook here: even accounting for Vietnam, America has never been as reckless as, say, the Castilian empire was in its day. But most of these lessons have being learned; America, it seems to many, is too stubborn to learn from the rest of us. It wants to make its own mistakes, consequences for all be damned. We know our history, and we’re doomed to repeat it.
Hobsbawm ponders how the world might confront, or contain, the US where it comes to their potential (not necessarily actual) imperial aspirations. He sees a danger in those nations who might despise the ideology behind America’s military machine, but support the US if such support might help remove an injustice of one form or another (in turn giving the US an undeserved sense of moral superiority to reinforce their tower of political strength):
>This may be called an imperialism of human rights. It has been encouraged by the failure of Europe in the Balkans in the 1990s. The division of opinion over the Iraq war showed there to be a minority of influential intellectuals who were prepared to back US intervention because they believed it necessary to have a force for ordering the world’s ills. There is a genuine case to be made that there are governments so bad that their disappearance will be a net gain for the world. But this can never justify the danger of creating a world power that is not interested in a world it does not understand, but is capable of intervening decisively with armed force whenever anybody does anything that Washington does not like.
This last sentence is significant. There is a wide gulf of understanding between the United States and the rest of the world, wider than the oceans that separate us. The real issue with regard to perceived US imperialism, in my own view, is that most people probably wouldn’t mind so much, if mainstream American culture weren’t so simultaneously insular _and_ predatory (a poisonous combination if there ever was one). It cannot be denied that we enjoy the good that America has birthed, however directly or indirectly — for just one (admittedly weak) example, you don’t see many anti-globalisation protestors complaining about The Simpsons, do you? — but the world beyond US borders definitely resents being dictated to by a nation, a culture, that forces everyone to understand it, and yet refuses to understand us. America as stroppy teenager yet again. It is precisely this lack of mutual respect, of mutual understanding, that is at the very root of global suspicion of American motives and which permeates every level of politico-cultural interaction between America and the rest of the world.
And yet, this is a problem that cannot be solved by telling the US to ‘just grow up’. If only it were as simple as that.
If there’s one person that I’m simply sick of seeing on my TV night after night, it has to be Graham Norton. I actually used to enjoy his original show, So Graham Norton, back in the day; at the time he was best known for his recurring role in Father Ted, his schtick was relatively fresh, and his unrelenting campness set him apart from the rest of the Friday night schedule. Plus, he was only on once a week — not enough exposure to get on viewers’ nerves. But when the show went from one to _five_ nights a week, Norton lost virtually everything he had going for him.
V Graham Norton, while loosely the same format as its predecessor, has none of the charm of the original Friday night spectacle. It is an empty temple of camp, adrift amidst an ocean of stereotypical, garishly baroque _faux_ gayness, with Norton cast as captain or cult leader or whoever he’s decided to dress up as this time. And not only is everybody else ripping off his tune (is there a queer quotient for late night entertainment now? — it sure seems that way) but Norton himself is at it for over half an hour five times a week. The same dried-up formula. Five times a week.
And they all go a little something like this:
>Here’s tonight’s guest — the late Judy Garland. First of all, Judy, tell me about your latest film. Mmm. Really? Out on Friday you say? Gosh. Hey, look at this — it’s a website run by a 48-year-old American pervert who likes to dress up as you and poo on the floor. And he’s on the phone now! Crazy! I wonder, has anyone in the studio audience ever done a poo? Hands up! Yes, you, the bloated, cackling sea cow. What’s that? You once pooed on a willy?!? Outrageous! Look, Judy, I’ve got a polaroid of a willy here! Hold it up! Ha ha, look everyone, Judy Garland’s holding a willy! Tee hee! Chuckle! Snort! (Repeat to fade.)
Thanks to Charlie Brooker’s Screen Burn column in last Saturday’s Guardian Guide (from which the above segment was pilfered) one need never have to suffer through these antics ever again. The only trouble is, how to avoid hitting the dreaded mine that is Graham Norton whilst channel surfing every night?
I just paid a visit to the Google homepage, and was surprised to find this:
It seems that today is the birthday of M.C. Escher. Very impressive of Google to commemorate such an important and visionary artist, I must say. They’ve even provided a link for an impromptu web gallery of his work.