Before I even put on Jeff Rosenstock’s new album, I wondered what the title meant. Because I had done no research, simply picking it up after a favorable review, I presumed the title POST- had something to do with genre. Typically in music (or any art form, for that matter), “post-” refers to a stylistic shift. I wondered if that was the case here, if the album was a departure from the artist's previous work. It did not really matter though, considering I was also unfamiliar with the artist. To be fair, I never do much research on music before I listen to it.
At any rate, since I had no expectations, I was pleasantly surprised when the album blew me away. My theory about genre shift was partly correct. Bookended by a 7- and an 11-minute song, the album accomplishes a variety of styles. Furthermore, each of the styles function incredibly well in their moment. Every song is given a chance to breathe. From the anthemic opener to the melodic close, the album resonated with me, fairly immediately and constantly.
Although musical styles evolve during the album’s run, each song has a personability which remains throughout. Even the most raw songs are endearing, as if Rosenstock is presenting a gift. The energy is both simplistic and brilliant. And despite the repeating oppressive nature of the words, there is a sense of hopefulness nothing short triumphant.
The best art comes from turbulent eras, and POST- feels very much a part of its time. The opening track is an angry, resilient yelling match about the state of life, appropriately titled “USA.” This bleeds directly into an equally angry, yet equally resilient “Yr Throat.” The finale reassures us that we will do anything but “Let Them Win.” (You can fill in your personal ‘them.’) All of this should come as no surprise in 2018. In fact, it becomes more difficult not to listen to the music without the lens of time and place.
Only a couple listens of this new album were enough to make me go back to his older material. With POST-, I found, Rosenstock doesn't really do anything new. I know this sounds like an indictment, but it's not meant to be. Instead, what I mean is that there is a melding of a variety of different sources. These sources are evident throughout the record. There are echoes of Weezer, shades of Titus Andronicus, even bits of DIY punk. In effect, I think this is why the album appeals so much to me. Is nostalgia enough to win over an album? Can you even call it "nostalgia" if it is for something you have never before experienced? Over the course of 40 minutes, POST- effortlessly manages to transport me to different eras of my musical tastes. It would not sound out of place to me in high school or in college. It is certainly not out of place for me now.
Showing posts with label Best Thing I Did Last Week. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Best Thing I Did Last Week. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 31, 2018
Friday, September 29, 2017
Best Thing I Did Last Week: Read The Man from the Train
I don’t read true crime. I watch a popular true crime TV series, and I get scared. I overhear a true crime podcast, and I hear strange sounds in the apartment. But I, like so many other people, cannot help but be fascinated by such stories. The popularity of the genre cannot be understated. Why is the true crime section is so huge at most public libraries? Or why does it seem like there is a new unsolved crime documentary every other month, and seemingly everyone has watched it? Despite my weak constitution, I still devour the documentaries and follow up on the stories because they fascinate me. This was part of the reason I picked up my first true crime book.
The Man from the Train, by Bill and Rachel James, is a heart-pounding, yet humorous study on a presumed serial killer whose crimes have been unsolved for over a hundred years. That’s right: one hundred years. Now, the other reason I picked up this book, admittedly, was the author. Possibly you recognize the name, Bill James, from something other than true crime1. For years, I had been a fan of his pioneering of baseball statistics.
Although this is not James’ first foray into true crime, it gives him a chance to use his research and analytical skills to attempt to solve this century-old murder. The amount of research the father and daughter team complete is just astounding. Think about it: the crimes would have been reported by local newspapers--and that’s about it. This was about forty years before TV and eighty years before the Internet, so news didn’t get around very fast. Despite working with biased, racist, and incomplete primary sources, they are able to compile a laundry list of crimes with several similarities that lead to a certain conclusion.
It is only fair to allow you to discover that conclusion, as the authors are very careful not to lead in one way or another. They state their ideas clearly, but want the reader to arrive at their own in due course. And you will form an opinion after seeing the purported evidence (an opinion which, in all likelihood, will be similar to the authors). There is nothing misleading about the details presented. Instead, they are upfront when presenting both information as fact and information as conjecture. That information may shape you, but it does not force you to agree with the authors. There is room for interpretation--albeit not much room.
Finally, the book is actually hilarious, or as hilarious as a book about an axe murderer could be. If you are familiar with Bill James' work on baseball statistics, you are probably familiar with his distinctive voice. The tone is almost conversational, addressing the reader directly, joking casually about incompetent law enforcement, or openly criticizing racist accusations of the early 20th century America. Not that they don't take the story seriously, but the authors make light when they can, surely appreciated in this gruesome, tragic story. If you are new to true crime, this is a great book to start. If you are a longtime fan, you won't be disappointed either.
1 Briefly, Bill James wrote articles and books asking new questions about baseball performance. He invented new stats as a way to measure and compare players, ultimately publishing his Historical Baseball Abstract, the sacred text to baseball and statistics nerds. If you’ve read Moneyball or seen the film, you know who this is.↩
The Man from the Train, by Bill and Rachel James, is a heart-pounding, yet humorous study on a presumed serial killer whose crimes have been unsolved for over a hundred years. That’s right: one hundred years. Now, the other reason I picked up this book, admittedly, was the author. Possibly you recognize the name, Bill James, from something other than true crime1. For years, I had been a fan of his pioneering of baseball statistics.
Although this is not James’ first foray into true crime, it gives him a chance to use his research and analytical skills to attempt to solve this century-old murder. The amount of research the father and daughter team complete is just astounding. Think about it: the crimes would have been reported by local newspapers--and that’s about it. This was about forty years before TV and eighty years before the Internet, so news didn’t get around very fast. Despite working with biased, racist, and incomplete primary sources, they are able to compile a laundry list of crimes with several similarities that lead to a certain conclusion.
It is only fair to allow you to discover that conclusion, as the authors are very careful not to lead in one way or another. They state their ideas clearly, but want the reader to arrive at their own in due course. And you will form an opinion after seeing the purported evidence (an opinion which, in all likelihood, will be similar to the authors). There is nothing misleading about the details presented. Instead, they are upfront when presenting both information as fact and information as conjecture. That information may shape you, but it does not force you to agree with the authors. There is room for interpretation--albeit not much room.
Finally, the book is actually hilarious, or as hilarious as a book about an axe murderer could be. If you are familiar with Bill James' work on baseball statistics, you are probably familiar with his distinctive voice. The tone is almost conversational, addressing the reader directly, joking casually about incompetent law enforcement, or openly criticizing racist accusations of the early 20th century America. Not that they don't take the story seriously, but the authors make light when they can, surely appreciated in this gruesome, tragic story. If you are new to true crime, this is a great book to start. If you are a longtime fan, you won't be disappointed either.
1 Briefly, Bill James wrote articles and books asking new questions about baseball performance. He invented new stats as a way to measure and compare players, ultimately publishing his Historical Baseball Abstract, the sacred text to baseball and statistics nerds. If you’ve read Moneyball or seen the film, you know who this is.↩
Friday, June 30, 2017
Best Thing I Did Last Week: Read Stamped... and Listen to Between...
Stamped from the Beginning is a heavy book. The fact that it is a physically large book notwithstanding, the debut work from Ibram X. Kendi, historian and African studies professor, tackles some incredibly tense issues. And with a subtitle that reads, “The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America,” you will know exactly what to expect, which is to say that it is not a pleasant book. In fact, the majority is understandably troubling. However, this does not make the presented facts any less important. Instead, the upsetting nature makes the book all the more challenging and powerful.
Professor Kendi divides the book into five chronological subsections, each headed by a principal character of each era. Those characters have defining roles in racial relations of each time period, ranging from emphatic civil rights activists to prominent racist agitators, with some situated confoundingly in between. The effect of framing each era around a major figure, regardless of that person’s stance, serves to analyze each individual era in the development of racist ideas throughout the history of the country. Rather than title each section based on a certain era in the country as a whole, Kendi personalizes each section by following the individual, a unique choice for a book of this type.
Over the course of the book’s 500-some pages, Kendi demonstrates an incredible amount of research. Every era is thorough and well-documented, and you get the impression that he has dedicated years to tracking down all of the quotes, passages, and works he references. The way Kendi manages to walk through the history, however, does not feel simply like reciting facts and quotes. He expertly leads a train of thought through the history in a logical manner, drawing conclusions among different participants. At the same time, though, Kendi does not force an opinion on the reader. Of course, it would be difficult to read this book and not arrive at a conclusion. Personally, I think this book is required reading for anyone with an interest in American history.
Around the same time, I put on the audiobook for Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me. It is a short listen (the book is only about 180 pages), but another powerful one. Presented as a letter to the author’s son, Between the World and Me describes what it is like to be a Black individual in present day America. Coates describes his reactions to injustices both personal and in the news (which is heartbreaking, naturally). Furthermore, he narrates his own audiobook, so his words are quite literally his own. Imagine listening to this on your commute, and then picking up Stamped from the Beginning at home.
At this point, I was concerned that my high praise of the two books was based on the terrible concept of purported ‘white guilt,’1 (because I also felt similarly about James Baldwin’s anti-racist treatise, The Fire Next Time, after reading it last year). The more I thought about it, though, the more that seemed preposterous. No, I appreciated all three books because the writing is emotional and beautiful. The subject matter inspires the writers, to be sure, which affects the sheer impact of the words. But subject matter does not define the sole reason these books are excellent.
What originally drew my attention to this book was the 2016 National Book Awards. Stamped from the Beginning rightfully received the honor of being the best literary work in non-fiction. After reading it, I wholeheartedly agree. It is the perfect complement, if you are interested further, to Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me, the previous year’s recipient of the National Book Award. In fact, I suggest experiencing them back-to-back, but you should probably plan for a happy read afterwards. Not only was Stamped from the Beginning the best non-fiction book I read in the last year, it is one that will stay with me for a long time.
1 The despicable idea that groups of (white) people can and should feel shame for the racist ways their ancestors treated other people. On its own, this may not seem like a bad thing, but it can be if it is equated to false or hypocritical social progression. The term de-legitimizes the ability to appreciate a racial critique by turning it instead into some sort of apology. Honestly, I think accusations of ‘white guilt’ are both reductive and offensive to considerations dealing with works about race. Instead, we can appreciate the works for what they are: excellent literature.↩
Professor Kendi divides the book into five chronological subsections, each headed by a principal character of each era. Those characters have defining roles in racial relations of each time period, ranging from emphatic civil rights activists to prominent racist agitators, with some situated confoundingly in between. The effect of framing each era around a major figure, regardless of that person’s stance, serves to analyze each individual era in the development of racist ideas throughout the history of the country. Rather than title each section based on a certain era in the country as a whole, Kendi personalizes each section by following the individual, a unique choice for a book of this type.
Over the course of the book’s 500-some pages, Kendi demonstrates an incredible amount of research. Every era is thorough and well-documented, and you get the impression that he has dedicated years to tracking down all of the quotes, passages, and works he references. The way Kendi manages to walk through the history, however, does not feel simply like reciting facts and quotes. He expertly leads a train of thought through the history in a logical manner, drawing conclusions among different participants. At the same time, though, Kendi does not force an opinion on the reader. Of course, it would be difficult to read this book and not arrive at a conclusion. Personally, I think this book is required reading for anyone with an interest in American history.
Around the same time, I put on the audiobook for Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me. It is a short listen (the book is only about 180 pages), but another powerful one. Presented as a letter to the author’s son, Between the World and Me describes what it is like to be a Black individual in present day America. Coates describes his reactions to injustices both personal and in the news (which is heartbreaking, naturally). Furthermore, he narrates his own audiobook, so his words are quite literally his own. Imagine listening to this on your commute, and then picking up Stamped from the Beginning at home.
At this point, I was concerned that my high praise of the two books was based on the terrible concept of purported ‘white guilt,’1 (because I also felt similarly about James Baldwin’s anti-racist treatise, The Fire Next Time, after reading it last year). The more I thought about it, though, the more that seemed preposterous. No, I appreciated all three books because the writing is emotional and beautiful. The subject matter inspires the writers, to be sure, which affects the sheer impact of the words. But subject matter does not define the sole reason these books are excellent.
What originally drew my attention to this book was the 2016 National Book Awards. Stamped from the Beginning rightfully received the honor of being the best literary work in non-fiction. After reading it, I wholeheartedly agree. It is the perfect complement, if you are interested further, to Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me, the previous year’s recipient of the National Book Award. In fact, I suggest experiencing them back-to-back, but you should probably plan for a happy read afterwards. Not only was Stamped from the Beginning the best non-fiction book I read in the last year, it is one that will stay with me for a long time.
1 The despicable idea that groups of (white) people can and should feel shame for the racist ways their ancestors treated other people. On its own, this may not seem like a bad thing, but it can be if it is equated to false or hypocritical social progression. The term de-legitimizes the ability to appreciate a racial critique by turning it instead into some sort of apology. Honestly, I think accusations of ‘white guilt’ are both reductive and offensive to considerations dealing with works about race. Instead, we can appreciate the works for what they are: excellent literature.↩
Wednesday, May 31, 2017
Best Thing I Did Last Week: Listen to Tonstartssbandht
The first step is learning to pronounce their name. When you see a name like Tonstartssbandht, it makes you think. Is this Swedish death metal? Some sort of German electronica? No, they are just two brothers from Florida who make exceptional rock music. And luckily, they have posted a pronunciation on their Bandcamp page. (It's TAHN-starts-bandit, by the way).
It should really be mentioned here and now that Bandcamp is a wonderful place to find music on the Internet. It is a place for artists to post and sell digital music directly to an audience. Because there is little attention and publication given to such releases, one can often find hidden gems of amazing quality for little to no cost.
The next piece of information about Tonstartssbandht you will find after spending a few seconds on their page is that they are prolific musicians. I only learned about them from their most recent release, but sifting through their older music reveals sixteen other distinct releases dating back to 2008. Imagine my delight in learning that there are another hundred songs to go through.
At any rate, their latest release, Sorcerer, came to my attention a few weeks ago, and it has been playing fairly consistently since I first heard it. There are only three songs on the album, but at 34 minutes, there is a lot to unpack.
The music itself is rather minimalist. Without doing any research on the band, the music feels like there are several potential possibilities. Either all of the instrumentals, vocals, and so on are done by one person and then intricately laid together, or each piece of the music is done by a group that is perfectly in sync. In reality, the sound is created by just the two brothers, which makes the sound all the more impressive, to my mind.
Sorcerer is the kind of album where any song (of the three) has the chance to be your favorite, and that choice could change at each listen. The music is diverse enough that a single genre is not enough to describe accurately the album as a whole. Instead, each song works as a 10 minute movement, sometimes acoustic, sometimes psychedelic, sometimes classic, sometimes modern. It is an album that demands to be listened to several times over, making new discoveries along the way.
For this reason, it is not easy to recommend the album in a conventional sense, as in “If you like this, try that.” You can hear roots from so many different eras of music. Their sound can be all over the place, while still being firmly situated in established independent rock music. If that appeals to you, Tonstartssbandht’s Sorcerer is totally worth checking out. Surely, you will find something great in this brief, yet impactful album.
It should really be mentioned here and now that Bandcamp is a wonderful place to find music on the Internet. It is a place for artists to post and sell digital music directly to an audience. Because there is little attention and publication given to such releases, one can often find hidden gems of amazing quality for little to no cost.
The next piece of information about Tonstartssbandht you will find after spending a few seconds on their page is that they are prolific musicians. I only learned about them from their most recent release, but sifting through their older music reveals sixteen other distinct releases dating back to 2008. Imagine my delight in learning that there are another hundred songs to go through.
At any rate, their latest release, Sorcerer, came to my attention a few weeks ago, and it has been playing fairly consistently since I first heard it. There are only three songs on the album, but at 34 minutes, there is a lot to unpack.
The music itself is rather minimalist. Without doing any research on the band, the music feels like there are several potential possibilities. Either all of the instrumentals, vocals, and so on are done by one person and then intricately laid together, or each piece of the music is done by a group that is perfectly in sync. In reality, the sound is created by just the two brothers, which makes the sound all the more impressive, to my mind.
Sorcerer is the kind of album where any song (of the three) has the chance to be your favorite, and that choice could change at each listen. The music is diverse enough that a single genre is not enough to describe accurately the album as a whole. Instead, each song works as a 10 minute movement, sometimes acoustic, sometimes psychedelic, sometimes classic, sometimes modern. It is an album that demands to be listened to several times over, making new discoveries along the way.
For this reason, it is not easy to recommend the album in a conventional sense, as in “If you like this, try that.” You can hear roots from so many different eras of music. Their sound can be all over the place, while still being firmly situated in established independent rock music. If that appeals to you, Tonstartssbandht’s Sorcerer is totally worth checking out. Surely, you will find something great in this brief, yet impactful album.
Saturday, April 29, 2017
Best Thing I Did Last Week: Play Bastion
When the word “craft” comes up in a conversation about video games, it often refers to the title of the game. Here, I’m thinking of the Mine-, Star-, [World of] War-, and so on. In rare cases, however, the word refers to what is going on behind the scenes. The word “craft” evokes the amount of time and effort it takes to a game with a certain style. Nothing about a well-crafted game is generic; nothing is boring. “Craft” is the word which constantly ran through my mind while playing the 2011 game, Bastion.
I have the tendency to come to games a few years (or decades) late. Usually, this works out in my favor, and I get to experience something classic that has withstood time. Of course, I miss out on the conversation around the game in the height of its popularity, but many times, it is nice look at the progression several years removed. In the case of Bastion, players have continually praised its style, despite being a small product from a little-known, first-time development team. Comparatively, a lot of praise for its small size. I certainly was never disappointed.
First, the gameplay itself is extremely engaging. It is no secret that Diablo II is my favorite game. The amount of times Bastion reminded me of Diablo was amazing. Not tonally (to be sure) but in the style of play. The view is top-down with a diagonal, isometric view that was so reminiscent of Diablo (but with much less red blood and dark shadows. The similarities do not end with the camera. The primary focus of the game is to fly to varied zones and recover a piece which in turn rebuilds the main world. On several occasions, my character was dropped in the middle of four roads with a choice towards the goal and--not unlike Diablo--I had to choose a route and hack and slash my way to the end. Whether or not these comparisons were intentional, it was hard not to be at least reminded of one of my favorite games.
There are differences, of course, in the art style, which was absolutely stunning. Each zone is unique in terms of terrain, color, brightness, enemies, and landforms. Every part of each zone looks to be hand-drawn. As your character moves about, the path builds its way up around you with pieces falling into place which literally makes it feel (here’s that word, again) crafted. Time after time, I would just run through levels and wonder at the visual display in front of me (which is dangerous, because you can fall off the map). Even if the act of playing doesn’t grab you (which shouldn’t be a problem) the sheer artistic merit makes it a worthwhile experience.
The soundtrack alone is worth turning the game on and leaving it running in the background. Each area has a unique sound that coincides with the gameplay. Not unlike the visuals, the music makes each zone feel like an individual part of a special world. The soundtrack has the kind of music that makes you want to grab a guitar and play along. In many ways, the music can stand independent of the game and still be praised for its quality. But the ways it works in conjunction with the game are superb.
Although I unintentionally seem to come to a few games late, I am usually rewarded for the long wait. And with a game like Bastion, it is most certainly better late than never.
I have the tendency to come to games a few years (or decades) late. Usually, this works out in my favor, and I get to experience something classic that has withstood time. Of course, I miss out on the conversation around the game in the height of its popularity, but many times, it is nice look at the progression several years removed. In the case of Bastion, players have continually praised its style, despite being a small product from a little-known, first-time development team. Comparatively, a lot of praise for its small size. I certainly was never disappointed.
First, the gameplay itself is extremely engaging. It is no secret that Diablo II is my favorite game. The amount of times Bastion reminded me of Diablo was amazing. Not tonally (to be sure) but in the style of play. The view is top-down with a diagonal, isometric view that was so reminiscent of Diablo (but with much less red blood and dark shadows. The similarities do not end with the camera. The primary focus of the game is to fly to varied zones and recover a piece which in turn rebuilds the main world. On several occasions, my character was dropped in the middle of four roads with a choice towards the goal and--not unlike Diablo--I had to choose a route and hack and slash my way to the end. Whether or not these comparisons were intentional, it was hard not to be at least reminded of one of my favorite games.
There are differences, of course, in the art style, which was absolutely stunning. Each zone is unique in terms of terrain, color, brightness, enemies, and landforms. Every part of each zone looks to be hand-drawn. As your character moves about, the path builds its way up around you with pieces falling into place which literally makes it feel (here’s that word, again) crafted. Time after time, I would just run through levels and wonder at the visual display in front of me (which is dangerous, because you can fall off the map). Even if the act of playing doesn’t grab you (which shouldn’t be a problem) the sheer artistic merit makes it a worthwhile experience.
The soundtrack alone is worth turning the game on and leaving it running in the background. Each area has a unique sound that coincides with the gameplay. Not unlike the visuals, the music makes each zone feel like an individual part of a special world. The soundtrack has the kind of music that makes you want to grab a guitar and play along. In many ways, the music can stand independent of the game and still be praised for its quality. But the ways it works in conjunction with the game are superb.
Although I unintentionally seem to come to a few games late, I am usually rewarded for the long wait. And with a game like Bastion, it is most certainly better late than never.
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