Category Archives: rants

On JROTC-ploitation Flicks

1 Reply

So it’s been just shy of a week since I watched a mere ten minutes of Daye’s JROTC footage. And though she’d given me permission to blog about the footage here days ago (Daye’s ago… lol), life has caught up with me and my private blog-o-go-round has been put on a brief hiatus. Finding a bit of time to get some fresh air here in Chicago (very cold air), I thought I’d begin rambling over my thoughts. Though it probably doesn’t need to be said, the thoughts here are sketches of ideas and things I’m trying to flesh out. The nature of blogging – at least for me – is something of mild contention as I figure out what I want to use this space here, but for now I feel it necessary to use this space for proverbial throat clearing and brick laying.

So the actual footage looks absolutely (insert expletives times 1,000) amazing. There’s a shot of students jogging in morning fog that is truly priceless. The footage being spoken of, I feel like Daye (is it OK if I address you directly?), you need to get over the partner adoration thing and take a stronger ownership of this film. I mean that in the most flattering of terms; this is a strong idea with strong visual cues for emotion naturally embedded – make it more than an idea and an individualized statement. I know your partner (with the two contrasting consonants next to each other that only Europeans can get away with) has strong feelings about the film and wants to contrast his notions of schooling and the role of military with what he has seen at Manual. However, yours is an opinion and ideology that is nuanced and – to me – more balanced based on childhood military experience.

Additionally, I feel like you know your editing. If I’m allowed to expand on the fact that you said you feel insecure in editing compared to your peers, I think that too is something that needs to simply be confronted. I don’t know how such a thing occurs, but sooner or later it will happen.

Aside from those issues I’ve mainly got a couple of questions. For one, what is the role of the filmmaker in the film? It seemed like you and your filmmaker are of conflicting minds in regards to the presence of you in the film – I’m thinking specifically of the awesome shot of the instructor speaking to you from a distance with that phantom shadow caught in the frame. Like your distaste for narration, I understand that perhaps your physical absence in the film can be viewed analytically. However, as far as creating a compelling, informed narrative, I wonder how much is being sacrificed by your absence.

Another question I have is about the issue of creating a fair and balanced film. It’s funny that my initial concern was about how the film could be overly negative in its view of JROTC. Now, however, after looking at the footage, I continue to be impressed with what JROTC is doing. I realize this is a conversation we’ve had before, and one that we’ve both shared with others, but it still is going to be the most immediate issue brought up as far as the direction of the film. Not that this needs to be a treatise in either direction, but I’d hope this is a film that could inform both sides of the coin; you have positive aspects of JROTC covered, I know you wanted to capture students being critical of the program, but is that going to be the most effective way of conveying a critique of the film?

I feel like I haven’t covered all of the questions I’ve had built up, but I should have written this up as soon as I left your apartment. Perhaps as I stay informed about the film’s state I’ll be allowed to continue reflecting on your film craft. Again, if any of these comments are invasive to you, please let me know and they will be properly edited.

“Nothing Is the Only Thing You Ever Seem to Have”

1 Reply

I’ve just gotten back from seeing Man Man perform in San Diego. I don’t remember another time I came out of a concert literally speechless. Though it probably doesn’t need to be said, if Man Man has a tour date even remotely close, this is a band that needs to be experienced. The problem is, as Rhea pointed out when I gushed about the show, I’ve made numerous best-show-ever-aphorisms numerous times. Clearly, how can anyone believe me if I lazily resort to that kind of hyperbole for every third concert I go to these days (though, in my defense, I am more than a bit more selective when it comes to which shows I’m willing to pay for these days; the three concert a week schedule my roommate and I somehow maintained for close to two years probably did a good job of desensitization)? I’m going to try and break down how this show was different – if such a tame word can even apply to the Man Man experience. Radiohead, the Walkmen, Animal Collective, and even wee Jon B. are all artists I’ve seen numerous times (six or more each) and have been fully invigorated each time – though Jon, admittedly has had his fair share of off nights. Man Man is frighteningly energetic in a way that is not at all going to given proper justice anywhere on this blog. Five musicians more talented than they have any right to be display true “group psychosis” as my friend’s roommate commented, on stage at every moment of their breakneck set. From hardcore to New Orleans jazz to doo-wop to pirate shanties, Man Man tackles everything at any given moment. Wait, I don’t know if that’s clear; Man Man plays all of said genres in a song all the time.

To put it another way, it was understandable when my friend explained that there was “no way” that his girlfriend would ever come to a Man Man show. The sheer amount of testosterone-driven terror and carnivalesque debauchery in the yelling, screaming, and lounge crooning that took place just ain’t a dignified, suitable place for yer ol’ lady. It was understandable that the guy standing next to me was caught in a frenetic, robotic dance for the entire show. It was understandable when the saxophone playing William Vollmann look-alike felt the compulsive need to hit himself in the head with a free cymbal (I immediately thought of this guy at approximately 3:40 in the video). It was understandable when said Vollmann look-alike felt it necessary to repeatedly karate chop himself in the neck as a means of attaining a certain vocal effect. The drummer and main singer (named Honus Honus) leaping in the air at the same time? Understandable. The percussionist violently striking his xylophone with a string of bells? Understandable. Band members needing to scream hysterically at random moments in the show? So completely understandable. That the Epicentre in San Diego felt like it was at half its capacity for the evening’s performance? Inexplicable.

I realize this rambling post has done nothing in capturing the band’s performance, so go forth and see when you can. If that isn’t feasible, both of their albums are swell, with last year’s Six Demon Bag being utterly divine. It also looks like Man Man’s working on their next album, though I don’t know if I’m ready to be prescribed another dose of meaty insanity quite yet.
.

.

.

.

Er… in unrelated news I need to eventually speak up on the awesomeness that is the second episod of the This American Life television series. I also want to extrapolate and talk myself through my thoughts on Daye’s bogglingly great documentary footage, but should probably make sure it’s ok with her first. Daye?

Don’t You Know That You’re Toxic?

1 Reply

Is it too early to be nostalgic for hip-hop’s mainstream awesomeness of a few years ago? Regardless of where you stand on mainstream hip-hop’s lyrics and braggadocio, recall the sense of excitement when the Neptunes were in full swing producing everybody. Outkast came out and had not only the biggest song of the decade thus far, but still made one of the most consistent hip-hop albums of the year (at least Big Boi’s half). Somewhere around there Common made that record that was all psychedelic and creepy and the slickest product of his career (anyone that gets Prince as a contributing artist on their albums is okay in my book). Even Cee-Lo had those sick solo albums before going “Crazy.”

It’s not that I’ve got something against hip-hop now, it just feels like there was a big evolutionary step taking place in the genre a few years ago and things have remained relatively stagnant since. Best of all, this evolution was taking place on mainstream radio in songs that were the harbingers for multi-platinum record sales; people had reasons to buy albums. And I don’t want to start imagining things in a different paradigm of iTunes band-artist-of-the-week-single-only affectations, but I have to wonder where the industry is going astray.

Perhaps it wasn’t even hip-hop that was making these leaps. I recall an interview I held with Jon Brion where he spoke in adoring tones for the then hit Spears single “Toxic,” and I strangely agreed with him about the magic of its chorus. It suddenly felt like an exciting time for pop, hip-hop and all sorts of awesomeness. Once jaded by their ubiquity, I was actually interested in where the *NSync solo careers would meander. And that’s not to say that this needs to be artist specific; the artists at the tops of pop and hip-hop charts were doing the kinds of things that were interesting, which is more than can be said from most of the field today.

In regards to underground hip-hop things couldn’t be worse. In the past couple of weeks, both Subtitle (Aka the tall guy that used to work at Amoeba) and Jurassic 5 have thrown in their towels. And hey, one of those artists was even good (sorry, 2na!). El-P’s sophomore album came out last week. It is exactly what I wanted out of an El-P album: it’s angry, it’s honest, and it’s confrontational. As satisfying as the record is, it’s telling that he has rounded up the entire indie-rock pantheon to support him throughout the record. In addition to his Def Jux cadre, I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead features guest appearances by folks like the Mars Volta, Cat Power, and even Yo La Tengo. I like all of the aforementioned artists, but on El-P’s album? (Full disclosure: in regards to these artists, the Village Voice nailed it)

I’m not yearning for the golden era of hip-hop, or the native tongues/native sons/backpacker whatever you want to call it. I’m not even asking for another resurrection of Tupac or Biggie (though it should be pointed out that once again, one of these artists had a number one album this month). I’m asking for a breath of fresh air in the stale environment of today’s radio-played hip-hop.