Cerebral Decanting

Music Reviews every Wednesday .....

Art/Lit (& Politics) other days......

by Jason Gubbels

Food Is So Commonplace: Olafur Eliasson On Dining Within An Ecosystem

1.  ”We are constantly confronted with a trivialized sensory world, largely the product of banal commercialization. The makers of that world aim for ‘safe’ sensations, selling experiences with which their target group can immediately identify. As a result, the individual’s imaginative ability is levelled off to become the same for everyone. The sense are blunted.

We have grown up as part of a tradition that sees the eating of food as an isolated phenomenon, as an interval or a pause during the day. The food may be beautifully served; a miniature work of art that is detached from its surroundings by its pedestal - the plate. But this offers an impoverished taste experience.”

2.  ”Think of a tree. Some people will see it as an object in the landscape; its leaves have a particular shape, its bark a particular thickness. This kind of description may make it easier for a nursery to sell it. But of course the tree is not a detached object but part of a gigantic ecosystem: it is bound up with the soil in which it is growing, the rain and the sun. The process of photosynthesis makes it an essential component of our environment. The tree is part of the earth’s lungs and is therefore inseparable from its surroundings. It has temporality built into it. A before and after. A summer, autumn, winter, spring.

In the same way, the potato cannot be separated from the soil in which it has grown. Just like the tree and the potato, the meal on the plate is part of a bigger system: the ingredients often belong to a particular season, they have a specific ripening process - their own temporal dimension - and they take a certain time to make their way through our bodies. They come from a field, a tree, a bush, an animal, the sea…. In other words, they, like us, are inseparable from the environment.”

3.  ”Food is just so commonplace. Everyone eats, everyone has an opinion about food. But taste is not exclusively a matter of individual perception, and food is never ‘just food’. Whether we like it or not, what we eat affects how the world looks. And that affects the way we understand it. When we look at a plate of food, we should see the greater ecosystem too. If we find out where the food comes from and where ti goes to, maybe this knowledge can be made into a kind of flavor-enhancer. It matters whether the potatoes come from New Zealand or from the Lammefjord area of Denmark, and I can see great potential in not dividing knowledge and flavor (just as in art, we should not separate form and content). They can be part of one and the same food experience. In the same way, cooking and eating and taste are associated with many other things. Food can be political. Food can be about responsibility, sustainability, geography, and culture.”

— Olafur Eliasson, “Milk Skin With Grass,” from NOMA: Time And Place In Nordic Cuisine, Phaidon Press, 2010

http://tinyurl.com/7e9bfvv


http://www.olafureliasson.net/index.html

Listening Notes, Ultra-Brief (Pt. 45)

PICKS

Andy Sheppard / Michel Benita / Sebastian Rochford, Trio Libero     (ECM)

Softly, softly - that’s the idea behind this international trio fronted by a lyrical British saxophonist switching between tenor and soprano. But where so many other ECM dates confuse a gentle touch with fragmentary impressionism, Sheppard unapologetically embraces melody. Having opened recording sessions with a series of group improvisations, Michel Benita and Sebastian Rochford joined the saxophonist in transforming those basic sketches into full-fledged compositions, only to once again dismantle the framework via another round of improv. Such behind the scenes technicalities won’t matter to most listeners, although the peerless blending of theme with simple yet dense embellishment leads directly from their chosen approach. And make no mistake, these are songs, not just skeletal frames. “Slip Duty” could be a warm-up reed exercise, yet it’s also graceful; “Spacewalk 1” is appropriately haunting; closer “When We Live On The Stars” is slow-burning cool. Unpack these performances, then - Benita’s folk-like bass, Rochford’s whispering drums, and especially Sheppard’s alternately spritely and mournful lines - and you’ll never once think to complain about the languorous pace.

Don’t Talk To The Cops!, Let’s Quit     (Out For Stardom)

Taking the logical position that anarchism works best when actually anarchic, not to mention silly, a Seattle duo channel any number of influences - old-school hip-hop tag team vocals, minimalist punk (“I Don’t Like Rachel” is a “Beat On The Brat” for the electro crowd), sleazy funk (a distorted ode to “that special sauce / you can take that off” on “Murderburger”) - into one abrasive yet danceable whole. Early shock tactics are soon subsumed by Emecks and djblesOne’s cracked yet warm logic, with supposed in-jokes opening to welcome all and - this is key - catchy pop hooks shaking off lo-fi trappings that prove essential components of those very hooks. Plus, these kids never lie and hardly ever obfuscate - “Someday I’m Gonna Be Rich” is a boast deployed so lazily it seems within reach, while closing faux-hardcore chant-a-long “Puke Party” is exactly what it says it is (“you’re not invited to the cool puke party!”). No doubt those suspicious of contemporary bohemianism might charge these two with archness. Fair enough. But when Emecks boasts “I’m an elephant,” a sampled elephant briefly trumpets. That’s not arch, that’s funny. 


NEAR PICKS

Jack White, Blunderbuss     (Columbia / Third Man)

Remember this guy? Before Wanda Jackson and Loretta Lynn production gigs, before The Raconteurs and The Dead Weather, before It Might Get Loud, Karen Elson, and Insane Clown Posse singles, there was a stripped-down blues punk duo equally adept at primordial riffs and pop hooks, and despite his noble efforts as roots rock ambassador to indie nation, riffs and hooks are what he does best. So glory glory, he revels in vocal tics and noise guitar even on this ostensible singer-songwriter venture, letting his mostly female backing band determine forward propulsion while stealing the riff out from under The Who’s “I’m Free”. Eventually, piano and organ overtake his six-string, and “the blues” becomes subsumed by what you might call Americana and I’m comfortable labeling classic rock.  Historians can parse every line herein for insights into divorce and heartbreak - plenty of glances at hypocritical kisses and requests for love to stick the knife in deeper, even while the title references his sloppy striving towards a doomed romantic idealism whose failings he only rarely blames himself for. I’m more intrigued by the way White lays claim to r&b nugget “I’m Shakin’,” turning Little Willie John’s classic into a fuzzed-up stomp bringing to mind Screamin‘ Jay Hawkins even while channeling Iggy Pop squeaks and the golden god timbre of prime Robert Plant. Talk about your influences.  

Tropicaza, A Mover El Bote! Afro Dancing Rhythms From The Americas - Mexican Style     (Mochilla)

As would seem to be common practice over at Mochilla, all fifty minutes of these non-artist-identified “afro dancing rhythms” from Mexico circa 1964 to 1979 are crammed inside one long track, meaning you’d best be prepared to sign on for uninterrupted listening or be fairly adept at skipping around. Decent party background music if non-worrisome grooves are all you seek. Pay closer attention, however, and what sticks out is how un-funky those remakes of “Thank You (Fallettinme Be Mice Elf Again)” and “Cissy Strut” are.


BOMBS

OFF!, OFF!     (Vice)

Displaying little in the way of formal distinction from 2010’s collected Four EPs, this 15-minute “album” of preserved-in-formaldehyde thrash barely differentiates itself from the early singles created by Keith Morris and his fellow “hardcore karaoke retirement home” pals back in the bad old days of 1980. If Black Flag’s Nervous Breakdown EP was/is your Catcher In The Rye, hearing such pioneers recreate the powerless rage of a testosterone-fueled nineteen might help you overlook the fact that Greg Ginn (more specifically, Greg Ginn’s guitar) is missing. But it might be harder to overlook the fact that Morris at fifty-six isn’t as powerless as he was at nineteen, which takes the thrill out of his rants. Invective like “You pushed me in a corner / what did you expect?”, “Are you smoking pot / or is your head up your ass?”, or “I wanna club you like a baby seal” suggests the thirty years separating this statement from the Circle Jerks’ debut were spent stockpiling grievances rather than accruing wisdom. Who knows, maybe “I’m tired of looking at your arrogant smirk” was inspired by the likes of Sheldon Adelson. Or maybe just some tourist Morris bumped into down at the Huntington Beach pier.


Daughn Gibson, All Hell     (White Denim)

“Dream-country” delivered by a lugubrious Vaughn Monroe type channeling the slower moments of American Music Club, distinguished primarily by skittering shuffle beats and sampled vocals here and there. Also distinguished by the notion that a drunk man crying equal high tragedy. “Nothing mawkish or condescending about All Hell,” notes one prominent reviewer. Maybe their advance copy was missing the title track, which apparently samples a hayseed from some piece of vinyl screaming about sick babies and Jesus before Gibson smugly croons “she is a lonely girl / she wants to doooooooo it……outside” over spooky marimba. 

Plot Spoilers: Post-Grunge Music Video Summaries From Wikipedia


“Kryptonite,” 3 Doors Down, 2000

“The music video presents an old man who was a big time action hero on TV. The scene cuts between the band hanging around on the roof of the apartments where the old man lives, spying on a man harassing a woman. When the man drags her away, the old man dons his trusty suit and follows. In between shots of the old hero chasing the bad guy and failing to protect himself against a group of goths, the band is shown playing in a club with several other elderly people dressed as caricatures of comic villains. The video comes to a close when the old man dives through the skylight and catches the bad guy off guard, possibly knocking him out by falling on top of him. The video ends with the old man smiling, giving a thumbs up to the camera.”


“3 A.M.,” Matchbox Twenty, 1997

“The video features the band sitting on sides of a street next to some telephone booths. A supermarket is also shown. The video switches from color video images to black-and-white images. During the introduction and the third verse of the song, Thomas walks in the middle of the street with some construction signs and lights. During the third verse, a car stops with a bare-chested man and a woman inside. The man walks out, revealing a catheter in his chest, and is handed three cigarettes by Thomas. Finally, during the last two choruses, the band is shown playing their instruments ending with an image of Thomas standing next to the telephone booths.”


“With Arms Wide Open,” Creed, 2000

“The music video shows Scott Stapp alone on a hill during a thunderstorm, before meteors begin to shower down around him. Eventually he enters a tower, and jumps down to a cave below. Finally, he sings the last of the song on the peak of a mountain overlooking the sea. The video is interspersed with footage of the band performing amongst the thunderstorm.”


“Blurry,” Puddle Of Mudd, 2001

“The music video for the song shows Scantlin playing with his son, Jordan, interspersed with shots of the band playing in a garage. Towards the end, as the song picks up, it shows Jordan driving off in the back seat with a man and a woman in the front seat (presumably Jordan’s mother and stepfather), as Wes watches the car sadly.”


“Gasoline, ” Seether, 2003

“The music video for the song features the band performing in a darkened space and a girl in her bedroom surrounded by fashion magazines and cosmetics. As the video progresses, the girl is shown using the cosmetics in an attempt to cover words that are scrawled on her face such as “liar” and “hypocrite.” As the song reaches the bridge and final chorus, it is revealed that the band had been performing behind the mirror as singer Shaun Morgan busts through it, knocking over a candle and setting fire to her magazines.”


“Shimmer,” Fuel, 1998

“The music video has the band performing the song (mostly centered on singer Brett Scallions) and has short flashes to things like a mother and infant child and a dog.”

Don’t Change The Subject: Or, Gary Bauer Decides When We Talk About Marriage Equality And When We Talk About The Economy

1.  “Conservatives have long argued that same-sex marriage would put America on a slippery slope to polygamy. If marriage is not limited to one man and one woman, what is the legal justification for limiting it to just two people?  And once marriage can mean anything, it will mean nothing at all.  

Obama has already done a lot for the gay rights movement. He has called for the end to “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” which would allow open homosexuality in the military. He has named as ambassador to New Zealand and Samoa an open homosexual, and he has extended health and other benefits to the domestic partners of federal employees. 

It’s hard to imagine Obama genuinely opposes same-sex marriage. But, based on the people Obama surrounds himself with, it’s easy to imagine something even more extreme — the effective abolition of marriage itself.”

— Gary Bauer, Human Events essay, 10/20/2009 

2.  “An out-of-control judiciary is attempting to force radical social change on millions of Americans. Sadly, the judge rejected the constraints of the law and the balance of powers to decide that there were hidden rights in the U.S. Constitution.

Marriage is a unique union of male and female. And while other relationships exist, the value placed on this special relationship extends through all faiths and through all civilizations. The voters of California of all races and religions have consistently rejected the demands of America’s cultural elites that the basic institution of marriage be transformed in order to satisfy the demands of a small minority. From one end of the country to the other, the American people have rejected this kind of social engineering, and recognize the special role that normal marriage plays in our society. Hopefully the Supreme Court will send this decision to the judicial graveyard where it belongs.”

—Gary Bauer, August 4, 2010

3.  ”Prominent Republicans, including Indiana Gov. Mitch Daniels and Mississippi Gov. Haley Barvour, are advocating that the political parties agree to a “truce” on important cultural issues to focus solely on the economy. That would be nice, but the problem is that some of our politicians and courts have taken cultural issues out of the people’s hands by legislating from the bench and imposing their values on the public.

These results should help our political leaders remember that it’s far too simplistic to focus on just the economy going forward.

This fact is reinforced by polls showing that most Tea Party supporters are just as culturally conservative as they are fiscally conservative. An October Public Religion Research Institute poll found that 57% call themselves Christian conservatives, 63% think abortion should be illegal in all or most cases and only 18% support same-sex marriage.

As Tea Party visionary Dick Armey has said, “(cultural) issues are too important to be left behind, and they won’t be left behind” by the new Congress.

It’s easy to conclude, “It’s the economy, stupid.” But it would be truly stupid for our elected officials to conclude that they can address our government’s fiscal deficit without addressing its moral deficit, too.”

— Gary Bauer, USA Today editorial, November 16, 2010  

4.  “What really disturbs me is that some Christians are buying into this argument, ‘Well, I’m not in favor of same-sex marriage, but so what if we have it. It doesn’t affect my marriage. It doesn’t affect my family.

The whole institution of marriage, God’s institution, is literally hanging by a thread on how one Supreme Court justice out of nine will vote.

[I]f the court looks around America and the only people they see speaking up and making demands is the radical gay rights movement and a handful of left wing politicians along with media personalities, they may very well rule 5 to 4 to strike down the Defense of Marriage Act. And if that happens we have lost that battle forever. Once that battle is lost, I don’t see how we can ever get it back”.

— Gary Bauer, Christian Coalition Of California, April 5, 2011

5.   “[Rick Perry’s ] comments [in support of New York’s same-sex marriage decision] were inartful and disappointing. The 10th Amendment and states’ rights is very important to conservatives, but it’s not our highest value. There are some things so fundamentally wrong that we have not left those things up to the states.

The governor also seemed unaware that the threat we are facing is the same-sex laws of New York and Massachusetts being forced on the whole country. So I think he still has great potential, but I think it’s a sign that even if you are a governor, the transition to the presidential sweepstakes requires a lot of study and understanding the nuances of these issues.

I have no doubt that by the time of the presidential election next year, it’ll be clear that the president wants to maneuver to have nationwide same-sex marriage and that the Republican presidential candidate is diametrically opposed.”

— Gary Bauer, July 26, 2011

6.  ”I suspect, or at least I’ve read, that the booing [of Satorum] was because — shock of all shocks — he thinks marriage should be between a man and a woman. That’s what, of course, for several thousand years, marriage has been. The booers aren’t offering much to the debate. Look, the overwhelming majority of the American people think that marriage is between a man and a woman.”

— Gary Bauer, January 10, 2012

7.  ”Every American who can’t find work, whose home is under water or who can’t afford to fill up his gas tank should be wondering why the president is spending even one second of his time thinking about how to radically transform the institution of marriage. It’s a political move meant to energize his left-wing base and distract Americans from his disastrous economic policies.”

— Gary Bauer, May 9, 2012

Listening Notes, Ultra-Brief (Pt. 44)

PICKS

Spoek Mathambo, Father Creeper     (Sub Pop)

Gotta wonder if the global enthusiasts scooping up every third rate chunk of ‘70s Ghanian funk are springing for this living breathing African pop. Or maybe they’re also signing on with the perplexingly common charge that this young South African rapper/crooner/rocker covers too many stylistic bases, his vivid tales of a nightmarish Johannesburg rubbing up against kwaito beats, video game farts, post-punk guitar, electro-cheese bass, and staggered rhythms that groove only if you pay close attention. Hardly blessed with a voice for the ages, Mathambo nonetheless is perfectly equipped to showcase his catholic tastes, restrainedly reaching for notes just outside his range on the soulful “Stuck Together,” bowing to Nicolaas Van Reemen’s fuzzed-out guitar and guest vocalist Yolanda on notable single “Let Them Talk,” detachedly outlining atrocities throughout “Put Some Red On It,” wordlessly emoting during epic closer “Grave”. And don’t let details like those deceptively lovely guitar lines snaking through “Dog To Bone” fool you, not with “bullets rainin’ on your head” and the torturing of “kids from yesterday” and learning “the split tongue trick from the mission school”. When he asks somebody if they “wanna bawl” or promises to drive someone else to their grave, he’s such a master of understatement, they almost sound like pick-up lines.


Spoek Mathambo, Nombolo One     (Motel 11 Roadtrip Tapes)  

 http://tinyurl.com/c9umso9

You’re most likely as unfamiliar as I am with the twelve South African pop smashes remade here, on a mixtape from late 2011 offered as a pay-what-you-like download or a limited edition woodbox cd. Adept YouTube users can search recorded history to see just how far afield Mathambo roams from the source material, and roam he does. Mahlithini & Mahotella Queens get refashioned as reggae-informed indie rock (“Melodi”), Caiphus Semenaya’s lovely “Matswale” becomes a buoyantly boastful rap bedecked with blurting synth, and Brenda Fassie’s 1983 breakthrough club hit “Weekend Special” revels in a quasi-Caribbean lilt retaining the primary hook while making room for guests Okmalumkoolkat, Bra Solomon & Ayobah. Elsewhere, the kwaito hits that inspired young Spoek get taken for a hip-hop spin, guitar muscle overtakes the deep groove of “Jacknife,” and Sankomoto’s sacred power ballad  “Papa” (aka, “Waiting For Your Name To Be Called”) gets treated with the loving respect it deserves, nods to Chicago’s “Colour My World” definitely included. Worthy enough as a love letter to the pop of Mathambo’s homeland, this artifact also serves as a starting point - track down the originals and make yourself a killer playlist.


NEAR PICKS

Coleman, Sounds Of Al-Mashriq: The Land Where The Sun Rises     (Mochilla)

This hour-long mixtape of Coleman and company’s vinyl-scouting trip to the Middle East has been floating around the blogosphere for the past year or so, and with a physical release now supplanting that online presence, it’s important to note one major drawback to this otherwise stunning compendium drawn from the eastern counterpart to the far better known maghreb. With only cursory references to the fifty or so performers or even genres sampled in one long undivided track, the stylistic variety on display from the popular and traditional music scenes of Lebanon, Jordan, and Egypt take on the free-flowing atmosphere of jet-lagged cultural confusion, and my archival tendencies wish Mochilla had taken the time or spent the extra dime to help ignoramuses like me understand when the fidjeri-singing Bahraini pearl divers show up, if that’s really a farfisa organ enlivening some klezmer, and what genre, if any, the accordion and horn-laden sounds-like-reggae-to-me excerpt at 22.40 belongs to. So, yes, this is a mess, as if stateside crate diggers were to assemble Chicago blues, NYC anti-folk, western swing, hardcore, violin recitals, and Moondog into one dense slab. But there’s nothing wrong with the music at all. Cosmopolitan except when it sounds practically medieval, it brings sacred polyphony and solo troubadours squarely in line with jazz, electronica, and the sample Timbaland lifted from Abdel Halim Hafez. And kudos to Coleman for his mature decision to let these unfamiliar yet approachable songs work their magic minus post-production gimmickry.  


K-Holes, Dismania     (Hardly Art)

There’s a welcome Cramps vibe going on here, compete with echoplex and squawling saxophone, as if some Lynchian vision of 60s frug decided to surface for air from a Lower East Side sewer grate. But since this crew originally hails from Hot ‘Lanta, I reserve the right to be suspicious of any new millennial transplants waxing nostalgic for the good old days of Alphabet City. Watch out for the “roaches and rats,” they warn during “Nightshifter,” not to be confused with “Rats,” the second of ten songs. Come on, folks, it’s just vermin - you’ve seen one rodent in the subway, you’ve seen them all.


BOMBS

Dave Aju, Heirlooms     (Circus Company)

There’s supposedly an undercurrent of jazz running through this tribute to a departed trumpet-playing father, but perhaps only tech house specialists will be thrilled by the distant horns on opener “Rise”. The rest of us will strain heavily to uncover anything more than the faintest hints of fusion amid the deep house of “Away Away” or “Until Then”. True, a decent three song run midway through the album does suggest the kind of fun, dumb, old school post-disco street anthems that helped propel many a block party. But that mindless fun is bookended by the merely mindless, including a long finale and ten minutes of the mock-grandiose profundity “freedom is free of the need to be free” repeated dozens of time over throbbing keyboards.


Brian Jonestown Massacre, Aufheben     (A. Recordings)

“The kids keep coming, they keep crowding you up,” John Updike allowed his aging protagonist to muse in the opening lines of Rabbit, Run, but long-running vanity projects like this suggest it’s the old farts clogging up the path. Perhaps it’s unfair to continually harp on the 40-odd members passing through this band’s lineup in a five-year period of splenetic activity, but those dismal statistics signify. Having exhausted the lode that is Satanic Majesties-era Stones while giving shoegaze a stab in the dark, Anton Newcombe tries on krautrock and “India-influenced” psychedelia with the same competent yet sterile approach that’s marred all of his interchangeable albums. At least the sitar flourishes and flute lines are employed with little trace of irony - Newcombe as always reserves his master comedic eye for titles, ie, “I Want To Hold Your Other Hand”. That track placidly kicks off with the line “hey, hey, hey, hey, hey / I heard that your true love, he’s run away”. Yup, keeping that rock and roll flame burning bright. 

Journalistic Integrity: McDonald’s Targets The Mommy Bloggers

1. New buildings have helped burnish McDonald’s image. This is change directed at everyone. On a narrower front, meanwhile, the company has also begun courting a specific, important class of customer: mothers. Central to this strategy is one of McDonald’s most prominent moms, Jan Fields, the president of McDonald’s U.S.A.

Fields, who is 56, assumed leadership over the company’s American business nearly three years ago and soon earned the respect of her colleagues for her focused but hands-off leadership style and for her personal story. When she was 23, Fields, a young mother and the wife of a military serviceman stationed in Dayton, Ohio, got a job at McDonald’s cooking French fries on the night shift. The work was harder than she expected. The smell of the fries stuck to her, she recalled, and there seemed to be so many rules. “I went home and cried,” Fields said, remembering that first night. “I thought, Boy, I don’t even know if I’m going to be able to make it at McDonald’s.”

She briefly considered quitting, she said, but thought better of it. And over the course of three decades, she worked her way up. It’s a success story that, at McDonald’s anyway, isn’t all that unusual; countless other executives have what industry analysts like to call “ketchup in their veins.” Many started with jobs behind the cash register, often earning minimum wage.

The company seems especially fond of telling Fields’s story in public, perhaps because, in person, Fields doesn’t come off as some scripted corporate type trying to change negative perceptions of McDonald’s but as a chatty soccer mom charming wary customers with a folksiness that appears genuine. As Rick Wion put it, “Jan is just a plain old nice person.” But the strategy, Wion added, isn’t just about Fields’s personality. “It’s about the principles she’s bringing to the table,” he told me, “and the openness of the conversation.”

2. Fields has also made herself available to everyday mothers — especially those who happen to have blogs. The company has been reaching out to them, giving them personal access to Fields and other company V.I.P.’s and essentially trying to influence — McDonald’s would say “inform,” critics would say “spin” — the influencers in the blogosphere.

In mid-2010,the company invited 15 bloggers to visit the Oak Brook headquarters, flying them and their families to Chicago, putting them up at a nice hotel and giving them the grand tour: a meeting with Fields, a chance to make McFlurries in the test kitchen, a visit to a nearby Ronald McDonald House and photo sessions for the kids with Ronald. “There was just a great deal of care taken with my family,” Loralee Choate, a mother and Utah-based blogger, says of the trip. “I did not have one expense,” she adds. “They even took into consideration that I was two hours away from the airport, so they sent a car to take me. It was very, very gracious of them.”

According to Wion, a creator of the strategy, the premise was simple. “Bloggers, and specifically mom bloggers, talk a lot about McDonald’s,” he says. “They’re customers. They’re going to restaurants.” And even more important, these women have loyal followings. Why not let them behind the curtain, hope they like what they see and let them tell readers about it? “We identified them and said: ‘These are our key customers. These are key influencers for our brand,’ ” Wion says. “We need to make sure we’re working with them.”

3.  In the blogging world, this is called brand work. In exchange for perks like free trips, access to important people and sometimes financial compensation, bloggers are encouraged or even contractually bound to write about a company, says Thales Teixeira, an assistant professor of marketing at Harvard Business School who has studied the trend. Some bloggers, he notes, get paid as much as $20,000 for the work, which by McDonald’s ad-campaign standards isn’t much money.

The benefits go both ways. Through bloggers, Teixeira says, corporations like McDonald’s believe they are reaching an audience that has become wary of slick ad campaigns. “It’s basically an advertisement sometimes but not directly from the company,” Teixeira says. “Instead they are receiving it from somebody they trust.”

Wion, who joined the company’s public relations team two years ago, told me that McDonald’s has on occasion paid travel expenses for bloggers attending conferences. But the company, he says, does not pay bloggers for content, require that they write anything specific or edit their posts in any way. The bloggers who came to Oak Brook, for example, were asked to write one post recapping their trip. “Beyond that,” Wion says, “we gave them, and we wanted them to have, free rein.”

The posts that followed — each accompanied by a disclaimer noting their sponsorship by McDonald’s — were overwhelmingly positive, however. And late last summer, McDonald’s was courting the bloggers yet again. The company sent Fields, Wion and Cindy Goody, the company’s U.S. senior director of nutrition, to San Diego for the BlogHer conference, an annual meeting that last year attracted 4,100 bloggers, most of whom were women.

4. About 25 of them were invited to a private luncheon with Fields and other executives. The conversation there focused on the improved nutritional content of Happy Meals. McDonald’s had recently announced that it was reducing the size of the French fries and putting apple slices in every meal, changes that took effect nationally in March and that earned praise from even the company’s critics.

Bridgette Duplantis, one of the bloggers in the room that day, was impressed. When I met with her months later over a wild berry smoothie at a McDonald’s near her home in suburban New Orleans, Duplantis admitted that she still has complaints about the fast-food chain. She’d like McDonald’s to offer carrot sticks for kids and more healthful, whole-grain buns. And she recognized that it was savvy marketing for the company to hold the luncheon. 

Duplantis said she felt a connection with Fields that day, something personal, mother to mother. “Now I relate to her,” Duplantis told me, “and in turn I relate to McDonald’s.” Which means, more than likely, that the Duplantis family will be seeking out one of its restaurants for its next fast-food outing instead of going somewhere else — a small victory, perhaps, but one that McDonald’s will take and try to replicate. 

— Keith O’Brien, “How McDonald’s Came Back Bigger Than Ever,” New York Times Magazine, May 4 2012

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/06/magazine/how-mcdonalds-came-back-bigger-than-ever.html?_r=1&hp

No Sleep Till Brooklyn: RIP Adam Yauch

Now here's a little story - I've got to tell
     About three bad brothers - you know so well
     It started way back in history
     With Adrock, M.C.A., and me - Mike D.
     Been had a little horsy named Paul Revere
     Just me and my horsy and a quart of beer
     Riding across the land - kicking up sand
     Sheriff's posse on my tail cause I'm in demand
     One lonely Beastie I be
     All by myself - without nobody
     The sun is beating down on my baseball hat
     The air is gettin' hot - the beer is getting flat
     Lookin' for a girl - I ran into a guy
     His name is M.C.A., I said, "Howdy" - he said, "Hi"

     He told a little story - that sounded well rehearsed
     Four days on the run and that he's dying of thirst
     The brew was in my hand - and he was on my tip
     His voice was hoarse, his throat was dry - he asked me for a sip
     He said, "Can I get some?"
     I said, "You can't get none!"
     Had a chance to run
     He pulled out his shotgun
     He was quick on the draw - I thought I'd be dead
     He put the gun to my head and this is what he said,

     "Now my name is M.C.A. - I've got a license to kill
     I think you know what time it is - it's time to get ill
     Now what do we have here - an outlaw and his beer
     I run this land, you understand - I make myself clear."
     We stepped into the wind - he had a gun, I had a grin
     You think this story's over but it's ready to begin
-- Beastie Boys, "Paul Revere," 1986

Listening Notes, Ultra-Brief (Pt. 43)

PICKS

Kool A.D., 51     (Greedhead / Mishka / Veehead download)

Maybe January’s erratic The Palm Wine Drinkard counts, but this mixtape seems our first recorded proof that Das Racist is as much informed by the Bay Area as by Queens. And even if Heems remains my MC of choice from that outfit - and even if both benefit from each other’s company - these fifty nine minutes of laid-back density from NorCal native Victor Vazquez capture the specific charms that have made his supposedly jokey daytime gig the apotheosis of an alternative hip-hop twenty-five years in the making. Recorded in Oakland and featuring cameos from such notable locals as Boots Riley and the Main Attraktionz, 51 is hardly streamlined, not with a nearly five minute instrumental funk jam lazily opening proceedings or with numerous short interludes that highlight a Jim Morrison scream, Bob Dylan making his producer giggle, and several minutes of Huey Newton speaking from a jail cell. But as tsuch gags and non-gags suggest, Vazquez’s interest in a vibrant counterculture still signifies, even if sonically these tracks backpedal from the noisescape of Relax - handclap/drum machine minimalism (“Ticky Tacky”), soul-drenched G-funk (“Oooh”), old school party jams (“Town Business”). And just like Miles Davis, Vazquez chooses to honor those he admires by simply naming songs after them, as witness “Al Green,” “Damien Hirst,” and, most notably, “Manny Pacquiao,” which turns on the memorable refrain “soak it up / marinate”. So while choosing a favorite couplet from this “habitual script-flipper” who’s been “known to say a lot with a little / like a haiku” is tough, how about, “fuck with short cuts like I’m Robert Altman / fuck with long shots like I’m Robert Altman / fuck with actresses like I’m Robert Altman / recycle like half a verse, but that’s art, man”. 


De La Soul’s Plug 1 & Plug 2 Present….First Serve    (Duckdown)

Confounding expectations since 1991’s D.A.I.S.Y. age-rebuking De La Soul Is Dead, these most cheerful of eccentrics have cultivated a devoted following even while their maturation never translated into following the rules. Having shrugged off an unfinished trilogy, Posdnous and Dave proudly offer a skit-laden and unapologetically narrative-driven rock opera, Maseo’s absence guaranteeing the unwieldily title even as all three promise more music on the way from a unit still very much together. Whatever - that’s what I mean about confounding expectations. This remains a de facto De La Soul joint, and with all respect to Maseo, it’s Prince Paul one misses the most, even if French producers Chokolate and Khalid do just fine delivering the mosaic thump. Besides, any inspiration Posdonous and Dave have taken from Paul’s seminal A Prince Among Thieves has been transposed to their specific middle-class reality, meaning instead of drug dealing and sidearms we follow the struggles of aspiring microphone fiends whose major problems involve nagging parents and two-timing French lovers. Their mild revolt against the 9 to 5 tinged with humility (standout single “Made It” continually undercuts that refrain with the lead-in “looks like”), they employ tennis metaphors, warn about breaking the china while doing the dishes, and pose the philosophical query “friends / how many have ‘em?” By the time they bring their simple story to a close with the infectious anthem “Move ‘Em in, Move ‘Em Out,” they’ve earned the right to take an extended series of closing credit bows and shout-outs. Which is exactly what these cheerful eccentrics proceed to do for three minutes. 


NEAR PICKS

Waco Brothers & Paul Burch, Great Chicago Fire     (Bloodshot)

Billed as the first new Waco Brothers record in seven years, this meetup is actually a Paul Burch record with Waco backing and several strong numbers courtesy of Dean Schlabowske and Jon Langford. Despite Burch’s tenure with arch ironists Lambchop, his love for old country & western would seem to be unwaveringly sincere, and this ragged backdrop suits him, from the Keef-meets-“Absolutely Sweet Marie” of “Wrong Side Of Love” to the weirdly lovely waltz that is “Flight To Spain”. Still, the three best tunes on this minor yet worthy exercise are credited to Langford/Burch (a stomping title track that asks “Didja ever get the feeling that you’ve been cheated?”), Langford (the “Pennies From Heaven”-nodding 50s shuffle “Cannonball”), and Bob Dylan (“Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” as blues whomp). 


Screaming Females, Ugly     (Don Giovanni)

Any number of descriptors apply to this power trio of Jersey basement punk rockers - fiery, visceral, brutal, muscular, edgy - but don’t forget self-indulgent. This indulgence is pronounced in the machinations of a rhythm section confident enough of its power to spend 25 long seconds milking a pedestrian rock beat, and during the nonstop guitar shredding of an ax-wielding frontwoman who plays plenty well yet never taps into the skronky noise that has delivered many a punk rocker from the tedium that is the minor pentatonic scale. But most self-indulgent of all are Marissa Paternoster’s vocals, which embrace an absurdity other singers would never dare court. For this, she’s both notable and brave. Yet she’s also obnoxious, and not always in interesting ways. So trio dynamics, guitar solos, and darkly-shaded lyrics aside, the band rises and falls based upon one’s patience with Paternoster’s holy racket. If the vocalist of your dreams combines Corin Tucker’s vibrato at her showiest with John Lydon’s mugging at its most shameless, you might as well dive in now.  


BOMBS

Fun., Some Nights     (Fueled By Ramen Records)

Discount any critical review of this record leaning heavily on comparisons to Queen or ELO - one’s ignorance of rock history would need to be staggering to miss the aesthetic similarities with those two dinosaurs, even though the biggest hook here is lifted wholesale from P. Simon’s “Cecilia”. Distrust any review that excuses the nonsense coming out of Nate Reuss as anything other than wretched, unless “It’s hard to lay a golden egg with everyone around” was a joke I missed. But most of all, declaim loudly against any review citing this album’s “hip-hop influence,” unless your lack of hip-hop awareness exceeds that of an indie nation getting more clueless by the day. Or did somebody think that repetitive horn figure opening “One Foot” might make Kanye West look over his shoulder?  


Lil’ Keke, A.B.A. II     (Music Access)

Don’t tell this peripheral Houston, TX rapper that gangsta is passé, because despite his consistent references to pure-as-the-driven-snow Colombian, stale gangsta tropes are all he’s pushing. He notes “ain’t nothin’ like thug love”. He boasts “I hustle with the mind of a G”. He warns “this here a thug thing”. He hoists “money over bitches”. He rhymes “I’m a hustler” with “I got the heart of a hustler”. He tells mama not to cry because he “Grew Up To Be A G”.  

Making You See: Fred Camper On Stan Brakhage

1.  Though his status as the most important and influential of avant-garde filmmakers is secure, many still seek to justify Brakhage’s significance by pointing to the degree to which his stylistic innovations have influenced mainstream movies (the credits of Seven being one recent example), as well as television commercials. This formulation is more than a little ironic, because his fifty years of filmmaking, comprising nearly four hundred films, ranging in length from nine seconds to over four hours, provide a passionate opposition to the ethos of both conventional dramatic narrative films and most documentaries—offering alternatives in the ways in which they were made, in how they should be viewed, and in what they’re all about.


2.  A conventional narrative film is a machine for the manufacturing of emotions: some characters and scenes evoke empathy and others create tension and fear. These emotions are provoked primarily by the subject matter—an image of a marauding ax murderer would scare anyone—and, only in the very best of narrative films, also by the style. But while subject matter is important in Brakhage’s films, they do their work mainly through composition, camera movement, rhythms within images, and the rhythms of editing or paint on film—they’re best seen, in other words, as light moving in time. A documentary is typically of interest because of its subject matter, proceeding as a kind of show-and-tell, with talking heads or an omniscient narrator conveying information. Brakhage’s films have few or no objective facts, existing primarily in a kind of virtual space within the viewer’s imagination, and in the subjective interaction between viewer and film.


Brakhage wants to “make you see,” a D. W. Griffith line he often cited, but with a crucial difference: his films eschew the manipulations of mainstream narrative and instead invite you to a variety of kinds of seeing.


3. […]The viewer of a Brakhage film must learn both attentiveness and openness. I’ve long guessed that when most people start to watch a movie, expecting a relaxing encounter, images that will tell them what to see and think, and a story that “sucks you in,” their speed of perception slows down. This won’t work at all for a Brakhage film. The viewer needs to be relaxed, of course, but ready to receive varieties of images and rhythms, and able to see fast—in the 1960s, a generation of viewers not yet trained by the rapid cutting of later TV commercials and music videos used to complain about headaches from Brakhage films because of their speed. But even in the apparently slower sections, every jiggle of the camera is important. Most of all, the viewer’s role needs to be reimagined: from a passive receiver to one who meets the film halfway, actively plumbing the depths of its imagery and the various themes and ideas suggested by its subject matter—imaginatively dancing with its flickering rhythms.


— Fred Camper, “The Act of Seeing….”

http://www.criterion.com/current/posts/272-by-brakhage-the-act-of-seeing


http://www.criterion.com/films/731-by-brakhage-an-anthology-volume-one

Wake Up With A Start And Always Smoke : Erik Satie Outlines A Musician’s Day

1.

A Musician’s Day

An artist must regulate his life. Here is my precise daily schedule. I rise at 7:18; am inspired from 10:30 to 11:47. I lunch at 12:11 and leave the table at 12:14. A healthy horse-back ride on my property from 1:19 to 2:35. Another round of inspiration from 3:12 to 4:07.

From 5:00 to 6:47 various occupations (fencing, reflection, immobility, visits, contemplation, dexterity, swimming, etc.).

Dinner is served at 7:16 and finished at 7:20. Afterward from 8:09 to 9:59 symphonic readings out loud.

2.

I go to bed regularly at 10:37. Once a week I wake up with a start at 3:14 AM (Tuesdays).

I eat only white foods: eggs, sugar, shredded bones, the fat of dead animals, rice, turnips, sausages in camphor, pastry, cheeses (the white varieties), cotton salad, and certain kinds of fish (skinned).

I boil my wine and drink it cold mixed with fuchsia juice. I have a good appetite but never talk when eating for fear of strangling.

I breathe carefully (a little at a time) and dance very rarely. When walking I hold my sides and look steadily behind me.

Being of serious demeanor, it is unintentional when I laugh. I always apologize very affably.

3.

I sleep with only one eye closed: I sleep very hard. My bed is round with a hole in it for my head to go through. Every hour a servant takes my temperature and gives me another.

For a long time I have subscribed to a fashion magazine. I wear a white cap, white socks, and a white vest.

My doctor has always told me to smoke. He even explains himself: “Smoke, my friend. Otherwise someone else will smoke in your place.

—Erik Satie, Memoires d’un amnesique, taken from early 20th century journal entries, published in 1953

http://wfmu.org/~kennyg/popular/articles/satie.html

http://www.amazon.com/The-Banquet-Years-Origins-Avant-Garde/dp/0394704150