I’ve just finished downtown fixture and prolific rock and roll poet Patti Smith’s latest, Just Kids. I expected a full autobiography and, in a way, it is, but what’s really special is that it’s an incredible love story for the tomes. Smith shows us what love looks like in all stages, even when her partner, the famous Robert Mapplethorpe, admitted he was gay and eventually died from AIDS. Robert and Patti are always one—a string the weaves through them and that glows when either is in need of the other.
I’ve been a huge Patti Smith fan for a while. I learned her through her music. Her 1975 album, Horses, is one of the best albums of the century. Her voice has a girl-like-Leonard Cohen-mixed-with-Tom Waits ramble and her sound is simple. But what really shine are her words. Once I discovered this, I jumped into her poetry.
I consider myself a poet and have been writing seriously for over ten years. Until yesterday, however, I hadn’t written a poem in almost a full year when I wrote one daily. My website grew static, no one had visited. It was dark and dull—perhaps a relic from Victorian England. Poetry is part of my soul and I felt I were dying, suffocating with lack of creativity.
I don’t know if this is a universal experience, but back when I was in the early years of high school I remember having to dismantle various fragments of literature and scrounge in their remnants for “literary elements.” This term was a loose euphemism for things like metaphors, similes, etc. – basically any concept that could be easily defined and tested on the state Regent exam. As ‘teach explained it, if the selected passage we were given employed enough of these syntactical devices, it must be considered advanced literature. I mean, come on, just look at that enjambment!
I don’t know though. I mean, what if you brought this exercise to bear on something other than fragments of Macbeth? How about, oh, Nas’s seminal rap album Illmatic (1994). Would it past the test? Is it “literature”?
For the last few months, we’ve been working hard with the good folks over at Anthology Media to put together a spiffy new web video series for you. The concept is pretty simple: we get writers, musicians, actors, and other creative types to summarize their favorite novels. In 60 seconds or less. With no time to prepare.
One of most the interesting aspects we found about this project was how it reflected the sorts of things people take away from fiction. We had each participant summarize a couple of stories, and everyone seemed to have a theme. Carolina, who you’ll see in a few weeks, managed to end each of her 60-second summaries with the concept of love. Morgan somehow related everything back to prostitutes and redemption. Other themes? Dinosaurs and aliens. This was all the more interesting when the stories in question contained neither dinosaurs nor aliens.
We’re kicking off the project with Matt Mazur, a NYC-based folk and comedy musician. He composed this little diddly about F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby off the top of his head. Enjoy and, if you like it, please share:
“Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.”
- Elvis Costello
Sometimes I wish that I could stop you from talking when I hear the silly things that you say...
Oh Elvis. You’re so wise. It’s true, using one medium to describe another is always a challenge, and writing about music is no exception. This of course hasn’t stopped people from trying; there is a massive and constantly-expanding network of fanatical bloggers and music critics out there, passionate listeners who deconstruct every obscure indie release in excruciating detail, who obsess over artists 99.8 percent of us have never even heard of. And you know what? Despite its occasional pretensions, I love this community; their relentless sifting of new music has lead me to some great bands, and they are ultimately the ones who identify and dictate what music will be popular in the future.
What I don’t love is the style of writing that many of the people in this community employ: the use of fragmented images and phrases to try and illustrate what a particular piece of music sounds like. You’ve probably read some of this before; a reviewer will attempt to describe a song by writing something nonsensical like: “The verse shimmers along, buoyed over a gentle sea of bass by airy wisps of keyboard, until it explodes into the chorus, a glorious cacophony of overdriven guitar and distorted drums.” This style of writing is ridiculous and a waste of time. No one could ever read one of these crazy streams of consciousness and gain any real kind of understanding of what the song actually sounds like; music is too subjective, and the terms used in these descriptions are too abstract to be useful. (They are also often repeated – for example, the verb explode is one of the most prevalent and pernicious words in all of music writing, appearing in about 60 percent of music reviews. It seems like every song is combustible.)
While I agree that it’s time to bring some sexiness back to the library system, I don’t know that a new typeface would be my first thought. So I brought in some help from the ultimate authority in sexiness to construct a new library anthem.
Christmas carols. They’re inescapable this time of year, they’re waiting for you behind every corner. From diners and taxicabs to lobbies and laundry mats, these upbeat tunes are there to get you all fuzzy and drunk on the spirit of Christmas, whether you want to or not. However, the next time you hear one of these jaunty jingles, you should listen a little bit closer. What you’ll hear in the margins of some of these songs may surprise you. Some of our most popular carols, songs that we’ve all probably sung along to at some point or another, actually contain dark undertones of melancholy and aggression. Read more »
John Hurt recorded the definitive version of Stagger Lee
It’s pretty rare these days that a song in popular music tells an entire story from start to finish, with defined characters and a decisive resolution. I think the reason for this is partially that story structure is inherently incongruous with writing a conventionally popular song; the backbone of pop music is the chorus, a familiar meme that gets repeated constantly throughout the song and which, by the nature of its repetition, weasels it’s way into your brain (Mmmmm bop, hippity dop bop doo wop…). And while this may be an effective tactic for making catchy music, you can imagine how annoying it would be to have the flow of a story you’re reading constantly interrupted by the same thing every twenty seconds.
This is not to say that story songs don’t exist — you can find them in the seemingly diametrically opposed genres of rap and folk music, both of which are less reliant on strictly defined song structures than pop music. What’s really interesting to me is that in both of these genres, there are certain tales that have endured over the years, becoming classics and even insinuating their way into mainstream culture. What makes certain story songs endure while others fade away? Why do they stay with us? In answering these questions, I think it’s useful to consider the ballad of Stagger Lee.
One of the cool things about the arts is that they all complement each other. Dance and music are each arts unto themselves, but the results are transcendent when they are paired together. Music is also an integral component in film and television, which in turn makes use of screenwriting and visual arts. Everything overlaps.
But with the exception of the rare book soundtrack, the printed word tends to stand alone from the rest of the arts. Maybe that will change as new technology gives us interactive books with synchronized soundtracks and accompanying video. And while we’re at it: maybe new technology will give us books with holographic characters jumping out of every page.
Until then, there’s STFUAJPGM, a miniature micro-music mixtape magazine that marries literature with its long-lost friends: music, visual arts, and video. Each “episode” is centered around a central theme inspired by video game culture (think heroes, love stories, and travel) and involves a smorgasbord of multimedia to illustrate the theme: pixel art, video, short stories, and an overarching soundtrack that neatly weaves all the components together. STFUAJPGM is focused on freely distributed music within the chiptune community, so each episode is also available for download.
They’re only up to episode #5 so far, with new episodes coming out every month or so. An uncommon thing in today’s daily updated culture, but very much worth the wait. To get a better idea of what STFUAJPGM is and what they have to offer, hit the jump for Episode 0 (Pilot): A Love Story. Read more »
In the documentary Before the Music Dies, a bevy of accomplished artists including Ray Charles, Erykah Badu, Elvis Costello, Dave Matthews, and more weigh in on the steadily commercialization of the music industry. I’ve had my eye on the film for a while now, mostly because of this clip:
Just be butt-naked somewhere. Butt-naked somewhere with glitter and a beeper.
Yes it’s ridiculous, and yes it makes Badu seem batty, but what she says rings true. And the rest of the film is just as eye-opening and engrossing. I’m not a music industry-type at all, or even much of a music-y person, but this doc really moved me. Maybe that’s because the core issue isn’t exclusive to the music industry. In a commercial world, how can you a) create art and b) succeed? At what point does the creative work end and the corporation begin?
The Free Music Archive (FMA), a project by WFMU that’s based on the idea that free music downloads are a good thing for the music industry, has just launched and is now offering up 5,000 free tracks available for download. Go get ‘em.
The Free Music Archive (FMA), a project by WFMU that’s based on the idea that free music downloads are a good thing for the music industry, 
