In the early 1990’s when tigrenoche and I were both college students we would sometimes fill a backpack full of cheap beer and together with another friend of ours (who was generally responsible for obtaining the beer through the use of a shaggy wig and hacking cough) wander through Old Town Portland. I’m not sure if Old Town can really be said to exist anymore but back then it made up the section of Northwest Portland extending from the water up to maybe 7th or 8th and then bordered by Burnside on one side and the train tracks on the other side. It was full of bums and junkies and industrial urban decay. We would alternate between hiding out in various alleys drinking cans of beer and walking the streets vaguely hoping that something would happen. Old Town and Burnside represented zones of potential and mystery. All of us had been raised in semi-rural settings and the urban poverty fueled our imaginations. Today Old Town and Burnside have changed. There are still some bums and junkies there, but they are easily outnumbered by the wealthy young people who live in the newly built condos. The Henry Weinhard’s beer factory that used to give that section of town such a distinctive smell has been replaced by a Whole Foods. I believe that this transformation demonstrates the political nature of the Rats’ song Burnside, the importance of acknowledging the interconnections between aesthetics and politics, and the significance of place and localism for a politics that I would be interested in participating in.
Burnside is political in a very specific and personal way, that I don’t expect everyone to experience. That said, I think in the context of Fred Cole’s lifestyle and musical history virtually every song he has made has had political dimensions, but that’s another issue. For me, Burnside is political first because it evokes an intense set of emotions through the manipulation of a meaningful symbol. “Electricity flows through your veins!” This was the same excitement that I felt wandering that street on a Saturday night.
Motivating action can be political, but it can take many directions. In the context of the history of that street that direction is clarified. The song was written in the early ‘80’s when Burnside probably had far more of that urban grit that I idealized and it is very unlikely that Fred Cole anticipated the changes that would come twenty years later. However, the song documents a particular place at a particular time. It describes a process of meaning making through a connection with a specific place.
Like taste, meaning making is a shared activity. I disagree with tigrenoche’s separation of the public and the private. Our aesthetic activities are no less public than our political. The meanings that Burnside had for me were entirely social. If politics primarily involves the redistribution of resources then the transformation of Burnside was a political act. I am not interested in debating the merits of gentrification. However, there should be no doubt that gentrification drastically changes our ability to construct meaning. Burnside is becoming less and less of place where teens can place themselves within an urban myth. In 2007, to scream “Burnsiiiide!” is to express anguish and nostalgia for the past and the loss of a particular form of experience. This clearly aesthetic process of transformation is necessarily political and involves negotiation, compromise, and distributing resources.
In my posts I have continually returned to issues of place and localism. Perhaps this goes back to my favorite aesthetic activities. I love tooling around – moving through a place and appreciating its qualities. My ability to pursue this activity is directly influenced by politics, but I think the relationship goes deeper than this. The kind of politics that I want to pursue is also one that acknowledges the importance of making meaning through place. Aside from the occasional flare up of nationalism I don’t see this value being represented or pursued by the Democrats or the Republicans. As I have argued in relation to ZZ Top, it would be impossible for a nation-wide party to effectively negotiate the meaning making potential that exists within specific places. One needs to understand Burnside before this can be accomplished.
Perhaps not all aesthetic and political goals are best served through local action. However, I do believe that these goals are best accomplished when taken together. Tigrenoche claims that his aesthetic interests in marriage, trippy music, and distance running are more or less distinct from politics. I assume in the case of marriage that TN means this should be distinct from politics. I would argue that certain values are present in trippy music and distance running. Why not promote political action that serves the same interests as trippy music? Certainly music can be used to promote a politician and politicians can distribute resources in order to promote music. But, isn’t it also possible for resources to be distributed according to the same logic that makes music and running pleasurable? I would like to see my love for tooling combined with politics by giving more attention to the local dimensions of space in all aspects of negotiation and redistribution. Couldn’t a similar relationship be formed with long distance running? In order for this to occur we would first need to understand the value of distance running, but having done that I am confident that we could arrive at an effective political/aesthetic synthesis.
4.24.2007
Wherein A explains the difference between politics and aesthetics
Okay, here's a quick and dirty essay in reply to DM's request that TN explain why he thinks there is a difference between political and aesthetic goals. I'm putting it up as a new post so I don't hijack the the thread about The Flying Burrito Brothers, which deserves to be continued.
I don't think politics or aesthetics (as the word is being used here; as a field of study it does have goals) have goals. People have goals, and there are political goals and aesthetic goals. Political goals have to do with the way you want some government to run. Aesthetic goals have to do with the type of aesthetic experience you want to achieve.
There are a wide variety of types of political goals, but I think that most people in the US want the government to coordinate resources so that people are in general able to pursue whatever things they find valuable. If you want to have a toothpick collection, you want to be able to pursue that unhindered. If you want to play baseball on the weekends, you want some resources to be used to make and maintain a baseball diamond. Proposing ways of doing these things will always involve an aesthetic element, since pretty much everything has an aesthetic quality (e.g. food, numbers, ideas, words...). A proposal will tend to be more appealing if both the means and ends it proposes are presented in an aesthetically compelling way. A proposal may even be more effective if presented in an aesthetically compelling way, since it's best if people find the way their government is run appealing, and sometimes the aesthetic appreciation of an end is sufficient for one to value the end in itself. An aesthetically appealing proposal is not necessarily a good one, however. Given a certain goal, it is possible that the means we find most appealing is not the best means (it could even work against our goals). Perhaps the free market is like this, as was suggested in David Graeber's article: People love the idea that they could become rich themselves, and so oppose legislation that would help them attain more modest and realistic goals since that legislation is also a barrier to them becoming Rockefellers. If you don't like this example, think of another one; if it's possible for people to prefer what goes against their greater interests (interests that they themselves would admit to, mind you), then an aesthetically appealing politics and the best politics will be distinct things. Ideally they overlap, but they don't do so necessarily, and I don't see any reason to think they do in general, either. The bad politics behind the appealing facades of "strength," "family values," "faith-based initiatives," etc. are all evidence that they needn't overlap.
(As a closing aside, personally, I think that there is a very appealing aesthetic dimension to effective, fair, and humane governance.)
I don't think politics or aesthetics (as the word is being used here; as a field of study it does have goals) have goals. People have goals, and there are political goals and aesthetic goals. Political goals have to do with the way you want some government to run. Aesthetic goals have to do with the type of aesthetic experience you want to achieve.
There are a wide variety of types of political goals, but I think that most people in the US want the government to coordinate resources so that people are in general able to pursue whatever things they find valuable. If you want to have a toothpick collection, you want to be able to pursue that unhindered. If you want to play baseball on the weekends, you want some resources to be used to make and maintain a baseball diamond. Proposing ways of doing these things will always involve an aesthetic element, since pretty much everything has an aesthetic quality (e.g. food, numbers, ideas, words...). A proposal will tend to be more appealing if both the means and ends it proposes are presented in an aesthetically compelling way. A proposal may even be more effective if presented in an aesthetically compelling way, since it's best if people find the way their government is run appealing, and sometimes the aesthetic appreciation of an end is sufficient for one to value the end in itself. An aesthetically appealing proposal is not necessarily a good one, however. Given a certain goal, it is possible that the means we find most appealing is not the best means (it could even work against our goals). Perhaps the free market is like this, as was suggested in David Graeber's article: People love the idea that they could become rich themselves, and so oppose legislation that would help them attain more modest and realistic goals since that legislation is also a barrier to them becoming Rockefellers. If you don't like this example, think of another one; if it's possible for people to prefer what goes against their greater interests (interests that they themselves would admit to, mind you), then an aesthetically appealing politics and the best politics will be distinct things. Ideally they overlap, but they don't do so necessarily, and I don't see any reason to think they do in general, either. The bad politics behind the appealing facades of "strength," "family values," "faith-based initiatives," etc. are all evidence that they needn't overlap.
(As a closing aside, personally, I think that there is a very appealing aesthetic dimension to effective, fair, and humane governance.)
4.23.2007
Wheels
The song “Wheels” by the Flying Burrito Brothers on their 1968 album "Gilded Palace Of Sin" LP has been haunting me for some time now. It is one of the more recent encounters with music that caused me to initially began thinking about music as a means of questioning our politics in the present as I attempted to provisionally explore in the previous post. They are in fact directly related in many ways, the byrds overlapped with the flying burrito brothers and later wholly incorporated this song’s composers Hillman and Parsons as significant contributing members over their multiple configurations. In the prior post I outlined the structure of contradiction in a byrds song at once an expansive liberating space that is repeatedly interrupted, constrained forcibly and tamed by a countrified slide guitar ridden chorus. Here we find another, nearly opposite use of precisely the same instrument to insert expansive dimensions into a typical song structure.
It opens with what can only be described as bare, bar room temperament: a brittle tremolo guitar, dry tinny snare, and a rubbery cardboard sounding bass lead us into a “honky-tonk” piano-lined room where two harmonizing voices sing, one close, one slightly distant, with a slippery slide guitar adorning the corners of the first verse.
“We've all got wheels to take ourselves away/ We've got the telephones to say what we can't say/We all got higher and higher every day/Come on wheels take this boy away”
The democratic imagination of a collective “we” narrated here is defined by means of transportation, telephones, and stuff that makes you higher and higher. These are the foundations of the postwar image of freedom: vehicular escape, mediated communication, and infinite self-administered pleasure. A ceaseless rite of passage never completed that forever postpones “our” transmission from boyhood is wrapped in the cloak of the timeless honky-tonk of a long lost folk authenticity. But the chorus disrupts this repetition of deferral and displaced subjectivity inhered in the confines of a mediated honky-tonk with the linear expanse of the road. Although distant, the end of the road is always present in the linear expanse of lines of flight afforded by the wheels that will take this boy away, like the angels of death themselves. “We're not afraid to ride/We're not afraid to die/ So come on wheels take me home today/So come on wheels take this boy away”
The fearlessness of the choruses’ collective we suggests a subject full of certainty in the face of limitless uncertainty, it is a subject differentiated from the verses’ subject by a decisive recognition of the profound limitations of their own eternal escape. The piercing of the song space by two resonating notes of a distorted slide guitar’s open strings sustaining a lone note embodies this decisive state of both limitation and freedom, a state produced by the collective we’s confrontation with its death as it permeates the very conditions of their freedom. That is, in the resonating sustain of the two notes born in the wake of the linked verbs to ride and to die we encounter a world at once infinite and finite, a contrary form of possibility and constraint which calls into being a “we” whose wheels are the sole means of their becoming, their angel of hope and death all rolled into one. Between their ride and their death, punctuated by the resounding drones of fuzz distortion “we” must decisively submit to their wheels having abandoned all fears as well as the fraught distractions of a ceaseless escape that has reached its limits; the wheels embody both discrete worlds of verse and chorus, and are thus the transport between these realms. This chorus repeats instrumentally and the interaction between these contours of possibility and constraint between two worlds plays out in the exchanges of the instruments leading ultimately to a return of the honky-tonk world played by the conventional country slide guitar and insistent piano.
From there, the second verse ambiguously attempts to align these separate worlds with a single subject who faces their death with a joined fatalism with faith to plead their wheels to transform him at last into the deferred manhood: “Now when I feel my time is almost up/And destiny is in my right hand/I'll turn to him who made my faith so strong/Come on wheels make this boy a man” This turn to the spiritual through the material produces a deep contradiction between the liberating and confining functions of the wheels which differently embody each world of verse and chorus. At the same time, in both realms, they increasingly become the only means of salvation for both collective and singular subjects. The chorus returns as the mediation of the timeless individual versus community opposition and that resigned, decisive collective subject, which now includes all individuals capable of inserting themselves into the “I” of the second verse. “We're not afraid to ride/We're not afraid to die come on wheels take me home today/ come on wheels take this boy away/come on wheels take this boy away.”
I could go on with these contrary forms of mechanical escape and liberation tangled up in the image of wheels but want to instead come to the point of my encounter with this song. While not the first “road song” by any means, this song about wheels contains many of the contradictions from which the present was born and in particular, identifies a very concrete set of political limitations active in the present.
The interstate highway network legislated into being under pressure of the auto-makers in 1956 would have by 1968 been largely completed. (see en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Interstate_Highway_System for a brief overview of this network)
The wheels of this song in fact seem to represent the profound shift in the spatial-temporal dimension of the American landscape and the contradictions the highway system brought into being. Most importantly these lyrical wheels belong to a new we of a political subject linked through a interstate road system and a landscape increasingly oriented towards this new scale of exchange. The degree to which we can trace the material foundations of the so-called party of “strength” and its martial logic through this particular form of wheels is the degree to which we can locate our own possibilities and limitations in opposing them in concrete ways. That is, quite literally by encountering the contrary form of wheels brought into being at the same time as a new spatial-temporal scale inscribed upon the landscape throughout the 1960’s, we can uncover the conflicted origins of a present all the more submitted to the wheels which this song hailed as our angels of salvation and death. This is not a question of a new language, nor of a new set of values but identifying within these materials present everywhere a space of leverage that can offer us a better understanding of the present. If we can locate the places and times when and where the “politics” of the present have come into being, those who oppose the right need not merely find better counter-slogans, but can perhaps begin to displace their practices of inequality with practices that undo those inequalities. I am using very general terms here again to emphasize the need to think both beyond and through the politics given to us by a deeply mediated world (a world of politics indistinct from the politics of news channel hair stylists and make-up technicians). Our own strong valuations of “equality” will never being able to engage the practices of inequality until their material foundations are confronted with opportunities for all to take part in their undoing.
Song link in comments
It opens with what can only be described as bare, bar room temperament: a brittle tremolo guitar, dry tinny snare, and a rubbery cardboard sounding bass lead us into a “honky-tonk” piano-lined room where two harmonizing voices sing, one close, one slightly distant, with a slippery slide guitar adorning the corners of the first verse.
“We've all got wheels to take ourselves away/ We've got the telephones to say what we can't say/We all got higher and higher every day/Come on wheels take this boy away”
The democratic imagination of a collective “we” narrated here is defined by means of transportation, telephones, and stuff that makes you higher and higher. These are the foundations of the postwar image of freedom: vehicular escape, mediated communication, and infinite self-administered pleasure. A ceaseless rite of passage never completed that forever postpones “our” transmission from boyhood is wrapped in the cloak of the timeless honky-tonk of a long lost folk authenticity. But the chorus disrupts this repetition of deferral and displaced subjectivity inhered in the confines of a mediated honky-tonk with the linear expanse of the road. Although distant, the end of the road is always present in the linear expanse of lines of flight afforded by the wheels that will take this boy away, like the angels of death themselves. “We're not afraid to ride/We're not afraid to die/ So come on wheels take me home today/So come on wheels take this boy away”
The fearlessness of the choruses’ collective we suggests a subject full of certainty in the face of limitless uncertainty, it is a subject differentiated from the verses’ subject by a decisive recognition of the profound limitations of their own eternal escape. The piercing of the song space by two resonating notes of a distorted slide guitar’s open strings sustaining a lone note embodies this decisive state of both limitation and freedom, a state produced by the collective we’s confrontation with its death as it permeates the very conditions of their freedom. That is, in the resonating sustain of the two notes born in the wake of the linked verbs to ride and to die we encounter a world at once infinite and finite, a contrary form of possibility and constraint which calls into being a “we” whose wheels are the sole means of their becoming, their angel of hope and death all rolled into one. Between their ride and their death, punctuated by the resounding drones of fuzz distortion “we” must decisively submit to their wheels having abandoned all fears as well as the fraught distractions of a ceaseless escape that has reached its limits; the wheels embody both discrete worlds of verse and chorus, and are thus the transport between these realms. This chorus repeats instrumentally and the interaction between these contours of possibility and constraint between two worlds plays out in the exchanges of the instruments leading ultimately to a return of the honky-tonk world played by the conventional country slide guitar and insistent piano.
From there, the second verse ambiguously attempts to align these separate worlds with a single subject who faces their death with a joined fatalism with faith to plead their wheels to transform him at last into the deferred manhood: “Now when I feel my time is almost up/And destiny is in my right hand/I'll turn to him who made my faith so strong/Come on wheels make this boy a man” This turn to the spiritual through the material produces a deep contradiction between the liberating and confining functions of the wheels which differently embody each world of verse and chorus. At the same time, in both realms, they increasingly become the only means of salvation for both collective and singular subjects. The chorus returns as the mediation of the timeless individual versus community opposition and that resigned, decisive collective subject, which now includes all individuals capable of inserting themselves into the “I” of the second verse. “We're not afraid to ride/We're not afraid to die come on wheels take me home today/ come on wheels take this boy away/come on wheels take this boy away.”
I could go on with these contrary forms of mechanical escape and liberation tangled up in the image of wheels but want to instead come to the point of my encounter with this song. While not the first “road song” by any means, this song about wheels contains many of the contradictions from which the present was born and in particular, identifies a very concrete set of political limitations active in the present.
The interstate highway network legislated into being under pressure of the auto-makers in 1956 would have by 1968 been largely completed. (see en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Interstate_Highway_System for a brief overview of this network)
The wheels of this song in fact seem to represent the profound shift in the spatial-temporal dimension of the American landscape and the contradictions the highway system brought into being. Most importantly these lyrical wheels belong to a new we of a political subject linked through a interstate road system and a landscape increasingly oriented towards this new scale of exchange. The degree to which we can trace the material foundations of the so-called party of “strength” and its martial logic through this particular form of wheels is the degree to which we can locate our own possibilities and limitations in opposing them in concrete ways. That is, quite literally by encountering the contrary form of wheels brought into being at the same time as a new spatial-temporal scale inscribed upon the landscape throughout the 1960’s, we can uncover the conflicted origins of a present all the more submitted to the wheels which this song hailed as our angels of salvation and death. This is not a question of a new language, nor of a new set of values but identifying within these materials present everywhere a space of leverage that can offer us a better understanding of the present. If we can locate the places and times when and where the “politics” of the present have come into being, those who oppose the right need not merely find better counter-slogans, but can perhaps begin to displace their practices of inequality with practices that undo those inequalities. I am using very general terms here again to emphasize the need to think both beyond and through the politics given to us by a deeply mediated world (a world of politics indistinct from the politics of news channel hair stylists and make-up technicians). Our own strong valuations of “equality” will never being able to engage the practices of inequality until their material foundations are confronted with opportunities for all to take part in their undoing.
Song link in comments
4.22.2007
Burnsiiiide!!!!!
It sends shivers up my spine. “Paralyzed by electricity! It was the guns of rock and roll! It was a sound that was out of control! Burnsiiiiide!!!!!”
The Rats off of their early 1980’s album In a Desperate Red. This is what I mean by a new language for politics. On the album, Burnside is preceded by a song called Working Class and followed by Come On Toody in which the band leader Fred Cole laments his wife Toody’s inability to get out of the house in a timely manner – “Come on Toody, Why’s it always take you so long?” If this is a political language it is extremely specific. It speaks to that handful of people who know about a street called Burnside and understand why it might have something to do with electricity flowing through your veins. Specificity has good and bad qualities. For those of us who are participating in the same language game as Fred Cole it makes the song take on an amazing power. For those who have never experienced Burnside it is more or less meaningless. Maybe you get what he’s saying but it’s not the same as having lived the street. So, this means of communication has limits.
A person might also question the actual message of this song, but I will assume that after all of our preceding discussion that this is no longer an issue. Burnside is no less of a call to action and values than appeals to strength and equality.
The problem is one of sacrificing the power of localism for a larger audience. Both are important and sacrificing one for the other would be a mistake. Fred and Toody Cole later formed two-thirds of Dead Moon, a band that consistently sought to use local symbols in order to create an international set of values. The title and chorus of the Dead Moon song 54/40 or Fight, refers to the slogan that was used to claim the independence of Oregon territory from the British in the 1840’s. Previously the territory was administered by both the British and Americans and 54/40 was the line of latitude that marked the northern border of Oregon territory. While the US did take control of much of Oregon territory they had to settle for the 49th parallel, which is now the northern border of Washington state. The song has little in the way of historical reference. Rather it is a song about being pushed until you can take no more. In some ways it is a song of rebellion not unlike other classics like Twisted Sister’s We’re Not Gonna Take It. However, both the Dead Moon lifestyle (being old, putting out your own records in mono, wearing black) gave them a credibility that kept irony at a minimal level. Despite the Oregoncentric nature of Dead Moon’s lyrics their biggest fan base was in Germany.
Dead Moon and The Rats never sold themselves as an “Oregon” band in the manner that ZZ Top catapulted themselves with the symbol of Texas. Perhaps the notion of staying true to one’s roots enabled them to expand their audience, but there was never a point when it seemed that Dead Moon was sticking close to Clackamas in order ensure their credibility and therefore sell more albums in Germany. Even with international acclaim, the localism of Dead Moon was maintained.
If there is a new language it must be one that combines specificity and mass appeal. It’s necessary to grab hold of a symbol with the power of Burnside that people all over the world can recognize. This is why peace, love, and war are so popular. This is also why peace, love, and war fail to generate any real passion in so many people – they are too abstract. This is a problem, but as 54/40 or Fight (sorry no digital copy to post) illustrates there is no inherent barrier to constructing symbols that are locally specific and appeal to people in different places. The political success of the left depends on generating such symbols that are rooted in place but are capable of transcendence as well
The Rats off of their early 1980’s album In a Desperate Red. This is what I mean by a new language for politics. On the album, Burnside is preceded by a song called Working Class and followed by Come On Toody in which the band leader Fred Cole laments his wife Toody’s inability to get out of the house in a timely manner – “Come on Toody, Why’s it always take you so long?” If this is a political language it is extremely specific. It speaks to that handful of people who know about a street called Burnside and understand why it might have something to do with electricity flowing through your veins. Specificity has good and bad qualities. For those of us who are participating in the same language game as Fred Cole it makes the song take on an amazing power. For those who have never experienced Burnside it is more or less meaningless. Maybe you get what he’s saying but it’s not the same as having lived the street. So, this means of communication has limits.
A person might also question the actual message of this song, but I will assume that after all of our preceding discussion that this is no longer an issue. Burnside is no less of a call to action and values than appeals to strength and equality.
The problem is one of sacrificing the power of localism for a larger audience. Both are important and sacrificing one for the other would be a mistake. Fred and Toody Cole later formed two-thirds of Dead Moon, a band that consistently sought to use local symbols in order to create an international set of values. The title and chorus of the Dead Moon song 54/40 or Fight, refers to the slogan that was used to claim the independence of Oregon territory from the British in the 1840’s. Previously the territory was administered by both the British and Americans and 54/40 was the line of latitude that marked the northern border of Oregon territory. While the US did take control of much of Oregon territory they had to settle for the 49th parallel, which is now the northern border of Washington state. The song has little in the way of historical reference. Rather it is a song about being pushed until you can take no more. In some ways it is a song of rebellion not unlike other classics like Twisted Sister’s We’re Not Gonna Take It. However, both the Dead Moon lifestyle (being old, putting out your own records in mono, wearing black) gave them a credibility that kept irony at a minimal level. Despite the Oregoncentric nature of Dead Moon’s lyrics their biggest fan base was in Germany.
Dead Moon and The Rats never sold themselves as an “Oregon” band in the manner that ZZ Top catapulted themselves with the symbol of Texas. Perhaps the notion of staying true to one’s roots enabled them to expand their audience, but there was never a point when it seemed that Dead Moon was sticking close to Clackamas in order ensure their credibility and therefore sell more albums in Germany. Even with international acclaim, the localism of Dead Moon was maintained.
If there is a new language it must be one that combines specificity and mass appeal. It’s necessary to grab hold of a symbol with the power of Burnside that people all over the world can recognize. This is why peace, love, and war are so popular. This is also why peace, love, and war fail to generate any real passion in so many people – they are too abstract. This is a problem, but as 54/40 or Fight (sorry no digital copy to post) illustrates there is no inherent barrier to constructing symbols that are locally specific and appeal to people in different places. The political success of the left depends on generating such symbols that are rooted in place but are capable of transcendence as well
4.18.2007
Political Rhetoric
This short article by Julian Baggini discusses a certain type of rhetorical device that is common in politics, where what is said is uncontroversial but what is implied is not. It meshes nicely with DM's comments in another thread about the invocation of strength in a lot of the right's political rhetoric. From the article:
Baggini doesn't offer any solutions. One good question, I think, is what the best response is to this sort of rhetorical device. Do you call out its implications? Or do you reply with your own rhetoric? Or do you ridicule it? Or does it vary from case to case?
When a political party is making its case by, in effect, not really making a case at all but creating an impression, it can be hard to pinpoint errors of reasoning. Indeed, a really good campaign will only use slogans and arguments that are irrefutable.What I like about the article is that it does a pretty good job of highlighting the real tension I feel between the need to make your political position attractive, and presenting the best reasons for your political position. Ideally the latter would be the best way to do the former, but unfortunately this might not be the case.
Baggini doesn't offer any solutions. One good question, I think, is what the best response is to this sort of rhetorical device. Do you call out its implications? Or do you reply with your own rhetoric? Or do you ridicule it? Or does it vary from case to case?
4.12.2007
Next Level Blogging
The subject of Iraqi blogs came up in conversation with TC08 and Greenmedallion last weekend, and I totally forgot about AliveInBaghdad, a video blog shot in Iraq and in Iraqi expat/refugee communities...very powerful, very depressing stuff; probably some of the best journalism on Iraq anywhere now.
On the music blog front, my vote for best music blog (criticism, not downloading, category) Woebot has branched out into video blogging with the amazing Woebot.tv The current "episode" is about British folk music, which should be of interest to at least one of the other contributors to this blog...whenever he puts up a new post, the old one disappears forever, so you gotta check back often (I think you can subscribe now too, and get e-mail notifications when a new post goes up).
Any of you have any recommendations for blogs taking it to the next level, breaking boundaries--or just doing typical blog stuff particularly well?
On the music blog front, my vote for best music blog (criticism, not downloading, category) Woebot has branched out into video blogging with the amazing Woebot.tv The current "episode" is about British folk music, which should be of interest to at least one of the other contributors to this blog...whenever he puts up a new post, the old one disappears forever, so you gotta check back often (I think you can subscribe now too, and get e-mail notifications when a new post goes up).
Any of you have any recommendations for blogs taking it to the next level, breaking boundaries--or just doing typical blog stuff particularly well?
4.08.2007
Army of Altruists - Getting Back to Our Discussion on Identity
There was an article in Harper's a few months ago that essentially argued that the military is an institution where working class Americans can fulfill the need to help others and lead meaningful lives. I think you should be able to access the article at: http://harpers.org/archive/2007/01/0081344. If not I can possibly create a link to the PDF. Perhaps you've already read it. In any case I think it's quite interesting and it fits well with some of the discussions we were having earlier. If you agree with the author's (David Graeber) argument then it seems that creating institutions that facilitate the construction of a meaningful life in a non-militaristic manner is a worthy goal. Not to dredge up a topic that we have discussed to great extent in the comments section of another post, but it does seem that among the democratic candidates Kucinich is making proposals that move in this direction. The military offers a powerful myth/narrative in which one accomplishes great things, travels the world, and positions one's self to access a desirable career. It seems that offering other opportunities/narratives for accomplishing this is something that should be explored further.
4.06.2007
A super depressing start to your weekend:
Oy. Might try to comment later (when I'm done rocking back-and-forth and mumbling to myself). What do you think?
And how come I'm the only one putting any new posts up in, like, a week now?
And how come I'm the only one putting any new posts up in, like, a week now?
4.02.2007
Yeah for unions!
I started my new, union job yesterday. I've got the SEIU watching my back now. What does union membership get me? About $3600 more per year than the same position at my last workplace, annual cost of living increases and overtime pay. At the last place I worked the clinicians were expected to work 50 or more hours per week on salary. So better pay and 10+ hours more per week to live your life--to blog, start back running (soon, I hope), get a community garden going. That's a pretty sweet deal.
I think that increasing union membership and clout is one of the most important goals that progressives need to be supporting. Since political aesthetics and identity is such a hot topic on this blog; I think it's nice to read this which reports that 53% of Americans say that they would join a union if they could. Maybe the image of unions as mob run rackets that just keep lazy incompetents from getting fired that the corporate bosses is no longer operative. Anecdotally, when I caught the local news the other night they were doing man-on-the-street interviews about the threat of another grocery strike in the near future, and they didn't have anyone on who didn't support the workers and the strike. You know that if the TV news folks had found anyone to bitch about the inconvenience or how those people are already paid too much to bag groceries, they would've been prominently displayed to provide some "balance." I'm not sure how we could go about making the union worker identity a more appealing one, especially to our generation and younger, people growing up entirely in the age of shrinking unions. Maybe humorous, ironic ads would help?
I think that increasing union membership and clout is one of the most important goals that progressives need to be supporting. Since political aesthetics and identity is such a hot topic on this blog; I think it's nice to read this which reports that 53% of Americans say that they would join a union if they could. Maybe the image of unions as mob run rackets that just keep lazy incompetents from getting fired that the corporate bosses is no longer operative. Anecdotally, when I caught the local news the other night they were doing man-on-the-street interviews about the threat of another grocery strike in the near future, and they didn't have anyone on who didn't support the workers and the strike. You know that if the TV news folks had found anyone to bitch about the inconvenience or how those people are already paid too much to bag groceries, they would've been prominently displayed to provide some "balance." I'm not sure how we could go about making the union worker identity a more appealing one, especially to our generation and younger, people growing up entirely in the age of shrinking unions. Maybe humorous, ironic ads would help?
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