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Rhetorical Poser

Something I’ve been thinking about since the neo-con zeitgeist began showing signs of self-implosion (starting with the incidents at Abu Ghraib) is how the President plans to maintain a semi-credible voice of reason with the American people during the upcoming election. Clearly, it was much easier to point evil fingers at Saddam Hussein when it was accepted that he was the only one doing the torture. But the stale air of hypocrisy in Bush’s knee-jerk deliveries might make things more difficult for him in light of current events. If things keep going as they have in the last few weeks for his administration, and assuming only more embarrassing Bushims take place, some Republicans might prefer that George get his points across in some form of pantomime.

Tom Engelhardt examines this intriguing rhetorical breakdown over at TomDispatch.com.

And here’s the thing: As in Iraq, so at home Bush has backed himself into a strange stump-speech cul de sac. Though from the point of view of many of us, the story in that speech has never had much relationship to reality, there was clearly something deeply convincing and reassuring about it if only you were willing to take that first step inside.

Creature of Comfort: Bowie at Hershey

Seeing that David Bowie’s A Reality Tour has moved on to better and brighter places in the past week since Liz and I saw him in Hershey, it almost seems pointless to talk about it this far after the fact. Well, almost.

If I had to point to a singular memorable moment, it wouldn’t be a guitar solo or some outstandingly long and poignant note. I’ve been to too many Bowie shows in my lifetime and I know the songs all too well to start playing favorites. Rather, I’d probably point to the enjoyable frivolity that’s been making up the entertainer’s stage presence these past few years as the main mark of distinction. In hindsight, the set list seemed very similar to the celebratory nature of his 50th birthday bash at Madison Square Garden. That is to say, there were a lot of hits. But I don’t think that’s a mark of anything significant. Despite the loss of Reeves Gabrels’s edgy guitar, Bowie’s current music hasn’t seemed to suffer one bit. I’d venture to say it’s getting better (fanboy status duly noted).

As proof, he’s just as content at performing an art piece such as “The Loneliest Guy” (which spotlights two suspended and upside down trees) as he is to take a request for “Let’s Dance” from a sign holding female member of his audience.

“Happy birthday, lady,” he intones after finising, moving on to the next number without missing a beat.

In essence, the guy just seems perfectly comfortable with himself.

As one observer from this succinct post-show wrap-up summarizes:

Witty banter, constant smiles and winks, friendly comments and a playful heart stood before us last night. Granted we all still think there is a painting somewhere in an attic of a 57 year old man, but for now we’ll take what we can see. Until last night, New Orleans was the number 1 Reality show yet….Hershey surpassed that and put it in the dust. Never before have I had so much fun at a gig, jammed so hard, and felt like I got hit by a truck the next morning as I did for Hershey.

Trampin’

There’s a line from an old Jazz Butcher Conspiracy song called Susie:

A girl has to have some breaks
When she was 18 Susie saw the Patti Smith Group on TV
And she told me that it changed what she wanted to be
Guess that’s why we kept on coming back to each other
Over all these years now
And if you don’t know what’s so good about candy
Don’t ask Susie or me

Hypothetically speaking, if the song’s teenage protagonist were growing up today, she might still be inclined to find inspiration in Patti Smith. Heck, she might even find enlightenment. Smith’s new album, Trampin’ is a visceral expression of images, thoughts, and sounds which seem more deliberate in design and intention than any of her past endeavors.

Patti seems to want to inject in the listener a certain experience with her poetry—a consciousness to start, and if that’s not enough, a conscience. Ghandi is quite literally a wake up call to peace activism, while Radio Baghdad bellows a narrative somewhat reminiscent of Gloria. Well researched and biting in a tragic irony, Patti rightly points to Baghdad as the cradle of civilization—a historical city of scholars, science, mathematics, and thought—and proceeds to echo out “shock and awe” as if the two words really meant something. Of course, they do.

Although politics are certain to be the real talking points on the album, many of the other tracks don’t read as straight-up protest songs. Trespasses, and the album’s namesake, Trampin’, are pure gospel. Others, such as the touching Peacable Kingdom and the seemingly embittered Cash are ambiguous enough to read as either political commentary or simple human emotion. Mother Rose, the most enjoyable number of the bunch, seems genuinely personal.

But while these songs are well-supporting and sincere, the implications of politics are never far away, nor do I think are they meant to be taken lightly. She opens up with Jubilee stating what I think is the true purpose—recruitment of the spirit.

We will never fade away Doves shall multiply
Yet I see hawks circling the sky Scattering our glad day
With debt and despair What good hour
Will restore our troubled air? Come on people
Gather round You know what to do

Recruit the dreams that sing to thee Let freedom ring

Yeah, I think if Susie were around today, she’d know what to do.

Bowie Mash-Up: Looking for Water and Controversy

These savvy fellas make such a big stink about David Bowie’s Mash-Up contest, you’d think there was a legitimate concern that it’s somehow unethical. But let’s take a step back, drop the latitude (present company included), and look at what’s really going on.

First, a bit of history for the people who may not be familiar with the term “mash-up.” A mash-up is simply taking two completely different songs and combining them into one song through digital manipulation. DJ Dangermouse has popularized this notion by combining the vocals of rapper Jay-Z’s Black Album with the rhythm and harmonies of the Beatles’ famous White Album, creating an entire album he’s called the Grey Album. Clever enough for you? Wait, it gets even better. The thing is an absolutely brilliant piece of work. No kidding. Just listen to it and see if you don’t agree.

The rightful attention this new form has achieved has been the subject of some recent debate, which is just an extension of the “who really owns music, anyway” question first sparked by sampling in the early 90′s. Now Bowie, an admitted dabbler of “hybrid” art forms since his first rock/mime performance nearly thirty years ago has embraced the mash-up art form and sponsored a competition where contestants are free to use his music. The official rules, however, state that the completed songs will belong to Bowie, not the mash-up-er, er… per se. While this may be a potentially lucrative position for Bowie to be in if the entries are any good, it’s not a crime as far as I can see, nor is it anything to get your squirrel hair paint brushes all tied up in a knot over. After all, the music does belong to Bowie in the first place. And if anyone has a problem with it, they can certainly not enter the contest. Those who do enter the contest, though, will not only get a shot at being semi-famous, they’ll potentially receive an Audi among other great prizes.

So it’s not really a crock of shit, as some have said. It’s a contest. And a pretty run of the mill one at that. In fact, I just entered a book cover contest with nearly all the same rules and clauses. Until something happens to drastically change copyright law, that’s just the way it’s going to be. Personally, the way I see it, Bowie has paid his artistic dues. If he uses the terms in his own contest to advance a creative (and capitalistic) gain, that’s his prerogative. He’s still the the most “hip” 57 year old I know.

But I do know how it is. Sometimes that clever coolness makes you want to jump right out and bite him on his thin white ass. And then the feeling goes away. Sensible respectability and a giving up of “props” sets back in and tells you where to go.

Laissez-faire, gentlemen. Laissez-faire.

Air America Radio

Having listened long enough, I can finally come to a conclusion about Air America. The short opinion is that it’s not too bad, if not slightly addictive. While I have yet to hear certain shows in their entirety, like The Majority Report and Morning Sedition, there are shows I have been paying closer attention to over the last few weeks.

Unfiltered is a rumpus three-way discourse, of sorts, featuring Lizz Winstead, Chuck D, and Rachel Maddow. Chuck (of Public Enemy fame) is predictably cool and surprisingly sharp, but the girls tend to carry the show. Lizz acts as the show’s ground wire, while Rachel plays the especially witty livewire. They’re preaching to the choir, and they sometimes go way off-track with the issues, but they’re entertaining nonetheless.

The O’Franken Factor is definitely the network’s main act and will probably continue to be the largest heat generator as the trappings and ire of satire rub all the right people all the wrong way. Personally, I think Franken is a bit too “fair and balanced” for his own good. There’s a regular part of his show where he and his co-host, Katherine Lanpher (almost unheard of, except as background laughter), try to convert a “resident ditto-head” Rush Limbaugh listener. On more than one occasion, they’ve failed to bring up facts that could further support their arguments (potentially swaying him away from the dark side). Topics aside, though, it all seems in good fun.

Randi Rhodes, however, is a force to be reckoned. Her shtick (somewhat reminiscent of an edgier Joan Rivers) actually tries more to be like an incendiary mirror image of the right. But here’s the surprising part. It actually works. No, really. She uses facts and focus to create a sense of immediacy, often inciting her listeners to get angry. O’Reilly, Hannity, et al might not have much to fear from Franken’s occasionally drowsy satire (actually I think satire’s nuance is far more effective when done right), but they should have a lot to fear in Randi. She could easily pick up a few fence-sitters—ideologically displaced people who are angry at something. What yet, they just don’t know. Until maybe now.