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Thursday, Feb 22, 2007
by PopMatters Staff

Future Clouds and Radar —"Drugstore Bust"
From Future Clouds and Radar: Self-Titled


Listen to “Drugstore Bust”

Heavily influenced by cameras, the asterisk (*), loss of any kind and Bill Monroe’s falsetto, Future Clouds and Radar is the latest creation of Robert Harrison, best known as the leader of Austin cult-garage-heroes, Cotton Mather. Harrison and Cotton Mather were the sleepy underground pioneers of the late ‘90s, having toured with Oasis (during the band’s heyday) they were hailed by NME as perhaps “the best guitar band since Supergrass”, and were most recently featured on Little Steven Van Zandt’s Coolest Songs in the World Vol. 1.


Radical Face —"Glory"
From Ghost on Morr Music


Listen to “Glory”

This record started with a simple idea: What if houses had memories? What if, when we lived in them, our stories bled into the walls and became a part of the house? What if our ghosts were always going to haunt the places we’ve lived, along with everyone else who’s lived there? In comparison to the very song-oriented debut by Electric President, 24-year-old Ben Cooper’s alter ego (Radical Face) and second musical affair of the heart, Ghost, has become a songwriter-album. Or rather a song-writing album, the tracks as carefully arranged interiors, chamber folk, pocket symphonies, passionate
melodies.


The Go Find —"Dictionary"
From Stars on the Wall on Morr Music


Listen to “Dictionary”

When Dieter Sermeus set out to write a follow-up for his 2004 The Go-Find debut Miami, he felt he wanted to move away from solitary song-writing and recording, and involved his live band from a very early stage. Together, they crafted a collection of (quote) “good-sounding danceable pop tunes” in a studio in his Antwerp home-town, which provided a warm and friendly environment, full of ancient keyboards and rare Moogs.


Willy Mason —"When The River Moves On"
From If the Ocean Gets Rough on Astralwerks


Listen to “The River Moves On”

If the Ocean Gets Rough is filled with 11 of Willy’s best songs to date, some immediately direct, others more subtle and evocative. With more developed and ambitious songwriting and instrumentation, Mason joins personal tales with socio-cultural commentary, effortlessly expressing his own experiences while making them our own.


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Thursday, Feb 22, 2007

Laura Sessions Stepp’s Unhooked seems like a ludicrous book (it’s about the shocking fact that girls these days seem to enjoy sex rather than using it as relationship bait), and it’s good to see scorn being heaped on it appropriately. Zuzu at Feministe parses some of the book’s repugnant imagery. Stepp writes: “Your body is your property. . . . Think about the first home you hope to own. You wouldn’t want someone to throw a rock through the front window, would you?” To which Zuzu responds, “I dunno about you, but if someone throws a rock through my window, it’s a safe bet I didn’t give them permission. I let my guests in through the door. And it’s not going to fall off the hinges if I let more than one person through (even at once!).”


Julian Sanchez is skeptical about the insistence that sex and love always be joined:


“Is it excessively cynical of me to think that the first casualty of an insistence on love and sex always going together might be your criteria for being “in love?” As in: “Holy hell, I’m 25 and have never had sex… You! SOUL MATE! NOW!”


Matt Yglesias links to a Washington Post review that makes the fair and self-evident point that “Both males and females should work hard to gain another’s affection and trust. And one’s sexuality is not a commodity that, given away too readily and too often, will exhaust or devalue itself.” At Slate Meghan O’Rourke suggests the problem isn’t that girls are hooking up but that they have such a joyless approach to it:


The hookup culture is part of a wider ethos of status-seeking achievement. As one girl puts it: “Dating is a drain on energy and intellect, and we are overwhelmed, overprogrammed and overcommitted just trying to get into grad school.” So they throw themselves into erotic liaisons with the same competitive zeal they bring to résumé-building: “If you mention you think a guy is hot, your friend may be, ‘Oh, he is hot. I’m gonna go get with him,’ ” Anna, a high-school student, reveals. The combination of postfeminist liberation and pressure from parents to “do it all”—as one kid puts it—has led girls to confuse the need to be independent (which they associate with success) with the need to be invulnerable. Thus, they frame their seemingly explorative sex lives in rigid, instrumental terms, believing that vulnerability of any sort signals a confusing dependence. The result? Shying away from relationships that can hurt them—which includes even fleeting obsessions that can knock them off balance.


I’m a little skeptical of that analysis, if only because it’s not only girls but adolescents in general who confuse independence with invulnerability. (That’s why my auto insurance rates were so high when I was 18.) Not that teenage girls are not under unique pressures—just look what society does to celebrity teenagers (aka the Lindsey Lohans of the world) as they verge closer to adulthood. Female sexuality obviously evokes all sorts of hysterical responses among those who want to lock it down and control it. I think Echidne is more on the right track with this: “Session Step does have a point in worrying about the increasingly early sexualization of girls, a sexualization that comes from outside and has very little to do with what ten-year old girls, say, actually think about or want to do, and much more to do with the popular culture and the porn world. I also think that it is hard for women to understand their own sexual needs in a world which blasts them with messages about how best to service men for the pleasure of the men, and I think that the real sexual liberation of women is a very unfinished business.” For much more on how sexualization harms girls, here’s a comprehensive report from the American Psychological Association—it’s obviously a problem, but it seems the Session Stepps of the world draw the wrong conclusion and think girls must be convinced to be nonsexual, or to treat their own sexuality like a precious valuable commodity, as was mentioned above. Perhaps superficializing sexuality may be a way of retaining control over it as the problem it poses for every one else becomes more apparent. But ultimately the point is that whatever young women choose to do sexually needn’t be pathologized automatically; it seems that the search for explanations for whatever sexual behavior a woman exhibits is ultimately an attempt to wrest it from her.


Echidne also notes that “Session Stepp’s point is naturally that it is the women who are supposed to do the relationship-work. Men can just do whatever they always have done in the past, and if that happens to be exactly what the author worries about, well, who cares. It’s not a guy thing.” This sounds a lot like sociologist Arlie Hochschild’s analysis of the extra burden of emotional work women are expected to assume. This work is alleged to come naturally for women, but it is really one of the more insidious patriarchal exploitations, to keep women performing this arduous and self-abnegating work of relationship preservation with no reciprocity.


UPDATE: Tyler Cowen reprocesses Unhooked into a rational-choice model here.


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Thursday, Feb 22, 2007

Interesting documentary on PBS this month: Hip-Hop: Beyond Beats and Rhymes.  In it, film-maker, hip-hop fan and ex-footballer Byron Hurt examines issues of misogyny and homophobia in rap.  The website above also has more information including a rap time-line and articles about the industry.  Though he included a critique of popular film culture that also promotes a hyper-masculine ideal, it would have interesting to also hear a comparison of other types of music and how they deal with these issues.


Also instructive is this article from the Tennessean: Music Row Says Grammys Snubbed Country, Like Always.  Though I didn’t realize it after watching them, in retrospect, it did seem that this genre was pushed aside during awards night, especially considering its ongoing strong sales.  The article notes that the two big features were Carrie Underwood toasting Bob Wills and then later joining Rascal Flatts to toast the Eagles- they didn’t get to perform any of their own material.  That got some industry people pretty upset and going as far as suggesting that country acts should boycott the ceremony in the future.  And though they brush it aside, you also can’t help but feel that Music Row wasn’t happy to see that the act that was honored the most happened to be the one that they themselves had snubbed and was slapped back on the band’s next release- the Dixie Chicks.


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Thursday, Feb 22, 2007
by PopMatters Staff

 


“GusGus once again throw into the flames a track by Daniel Agust “Moss”, a superb addition to the magnificent vocal landscape of Earth. Pall Oskar, the discodiva # 1, lends his smooth voice on “Need In Me”, as well as on “Hold You” with the Detroit fire Aaron-Carl. Omar Gudjonsson lays his calloused fingers over “You’ll never Change” and inspires both President Bongo and Veiran to do handle their own guitar necks in “Forever”. Also our very own “Professor” Ottarr Proppe pukes out the welcome words to “Forever”. Mr. The President himself graces golden larynx through the track “If you don’t jump, you’re English” flashing rusted guitar samples from the everlasting Icelandic 80’s punk band Purrkur Pillnikk and hammered power hi-hats by Helgi “HitHat” Helgason. The rest is history… Well… except for the remixing. That’s part history and part future. These recombinitations and malnourished destructures were and are gonna be manhandled by Moonbootica, Diringer, Mark Bell, Thor, DMS, Patrick Chardronnet, Tim Deluxe, Jack Schidt, Greg Churchill and of course the in-house crew, Biggi Veira and the albino President Bongo.”—Pineapple Records (Iceland)

“Moss” Remixes [Streaming]
GusGus interview [MP3]


GusGus - Moss


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Wednesday, Feb 21, 2007


As part of a new feature here at SE&L, we will be looking at the classic exploitation films of the ‘40s - ‘70s. Many film fans don’t recognize the importance of the genre, and often miss the connection between the post-modern movements like French New Wave and Italian Neo-Realism and the nudist/roughie/softcore efforts of the era. Without the work of directors like Herschell Gordon Lewis, Joe Sarno and Doris Wishman, along with producers such as David F. Friedman and Harry Novak, many of the subjects that set the benchmark for cinema’s startling transformation in the Me Decade would have been impossible to broach. Sure, there are a few dull, derivative drive-in labors to be waded through, movies that barely deserve to stand alongside the mangled masterworks by the format’s addled artists. But they too represent an important element in the overall development of the medium. So grab your trusty raincoat, pull up a chair, and discover what the grindhouse was really all about as we introduce The Beginner’s Guide to Exploitation.


This week: Godfather of Gore Herschell Gordon Lewis delivers his slasher swansong.

The Gore-Gore Girls




When a young stripper is found horribly mutilated, a local yellow journalist hires the incredibly fey Fire Island resident in transit Abraham Gentry - a kind of ambiguously asexual private eye - to solve the case. He purses his lips and hits the clue trail. As Abey Baby travels from one seedy strip club to another (all owned by the human goiter Marzdone Mobilie) he meets several suspects in training, some irate ERA feminists, and several liquid-lunching businessmen. He also sees a lot libido-deflating hooters. Nancy Weston, ace space case reporter, tags along to prove the age-old adage wrong: not every member of the fourth estate is a college graduate who can hold his or her liquor.


Several more droopy drawered dancers are hacked into little smokies by the butchering bad guy, while ulcerous Gentry battles the incompetence of the local camera-shy police, and the incontinence of the “can’t take a hint” journalist. In a last gasp effort to lure the killer to the quinine, or as a flimsy excuse to mildly entertain the almost asleep viewing audience, Mobilie and Gentry have an amateur strip night competition. After momentarily sniffing the bar’s cork coasters, a now completely inebriated Nancy takes the stage to shake her shorthand scribbler. Naturally, the killer screams “8th Amendment” and exposes his or her self (not literally).


The Gore-Gore Girls has got to be the most eccentric, bizarre gore film Herschel Gordon Lewis ever conceived or created. Looking at the insane, inspired list of actors, characters, and idiosyncrasies used to pad the storyline with comic confections, one becomes airplane glue goofy with unintentional delight. Would you believe Henny Youngman as a one-liner dropping flesh peddler? A fussy Nero Wolfe wannabe who is an ascot short of being straight? A fruit mashing ex-marine named Grout who pulverizes produce as a peacekeeping pastime? A snorting bartender who’s every word is accented with a sniffle? Or a daffy cocktail waitress who keeps Eva Gabor in wig merchandizing heaven? Together, they combine to make The Gore-Gore Girls Lewis’ funniest film. It is also one of his most brutal. In the long line of mutilations and murders Lewis has lensed, these are the bloodiest, most violent and visceral slices of carnage ever depicted.


Sure, many of the elements look faked, but Lewis lingers over them lovingly and pushes the maiming to such new disturbing heights that they evolve, becoming eerie and disgusting. Eyes are gouged out of sockets and skewered with carving forks, and then for good measure, the empty head holes are probed and pierced repeatedly with the same device. Faces are boiled in hot oil until they melt, and brains are splattered on city streets. Like many a typical slasher film, the mystery is merely the skeleton upon which the oozing hunks of human flesh are fitted, accented by Lewis’ weird wackiness. In many ways, The Gore-Gore Girls is the precursor to Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead II: Dead by Dawn. There is the same use of irreverent humor, odd camera tricks, gruesome effects, and broad characterization to produce a hilarious, hallucinatory, and horrific cinematic experience.


It’s too bad that Lewis dropped out of filmmaking after Girls (unless you count the paltry porn of his 1972 movie Black Love). He then went on to become one of the most highly sought after direct-mail consultants and a respected teacher of advertising copywriting. Still, this movie shows he was headed for another career renaissance, after The Blood Trilogy‘s success and his varying forays into numerous genre types during the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. The Gore-Gore Girls is an irreverent slap in the face of all the copycat filmmakers who thought they could out-massacre the master. Lewis proves once and for all that while some may have done it better, or cheaper, or more realistically, no one did it with more passion or perverse pleasure.


You can sense the smile on his broad face as a victim has her nipples clipped, only to have them produce regular and chocolate milk from the wounds. You can hear his devilish laughter as the killer salts and peppers a freshly pounded female rump…roast, filled to the fiendishness with fleshy goodness. Throw in a little nudity (this is a film about a killer who targets strippers, remember), some blatantly bad jokes, some marvelous under- and over-acting by the cast, and you have a truly original, disgusting diversion. Alongside Blood Feast and Two Thousand Maniacs, this is one of the best movies Lewis ever made. It’s a shame that, over the years, it’s been forgotten like a great deal of this madcap genius’ works.


 


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