Ok, I lied, I was too tired last night to post, but here we go...
Since there's almost always bad news being reported, I thought I'd bring some sunshine into the pizzle. Each year TIMEAsia does an issue on Asians who have contributed to the world in a positive way. This year they profiled celebrities like Yao Ming and Yoko Ono, but I would like to highlight a few of my favorite and more obscure stories:
Asma Jahangir , a Human Rights Lawyer in Pakistan, has expanded her fight for women's rights in Pakistan to the rest of the world. You go girl.
Gulla Jan Hairran found an amazing and ultimately life-saving way to stand up to Soviet and Taliban rule.
The women of Gujarat who looked beyond religious extremism and reached out to all those affected by hatred and violence.
Anonymous slum dwellers in Cambodia who saw past class differences and resentment to save lives during anti-Thai riots in Phnom Penh.
*****
I had the privelege of seeing the White Stripes in concert Tuesday and I have to say I was blown away. The set was non-stop energy. A full-force rock and blues assault made all the more astounding by the fact that it's produced by just two people. The level of Jack's mastery on the guitar was made fully evident ( I officially nominate him for the Guitar God Pantheon) and Meg was as solid as any drummer I've ever heard. I was constantly wondering how such big noise could come from someone so small. Other entertaining sidenotes: Jack getting angry at crowd surfers and threatening to leave, Jack calling Meg his sister twice (I thought it was settled that they were ex husband and wife, what does he mean by sister? Sister as in his companion on their unique musical mission? Sister, in the existential sense that we are all brothers and sisters on this crazy journey called life? who knows...) and the bizarre on-stage antics of the guitarless opening band, Whilrwind Heat.
The music and performance were amazing, almost antagonisitic in tone, it was perfect rock n' roll. All the elements were there for an awesome show, but there was something extra that the White Stripes brought that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Then I stumbled upon The Sports Guy's latest column on ESPN.com's Page 2 (for those that have not explored the greatness of Page 2 please do so, RIGHT NOW). In describing the on-court game of Arizona's Luke Walton, The Sports Guy likens his passing skills to the instinctive chemistry between Jack and Meg White. Chemistry! That's it exactly.
The White Stripes fucking rock, but what really sets them apart is the way the play together. Meg tolerantly keeps the rhythm through Jack's many digressions, responding instantly to changes based on a single glance. An entire lifetime of mutual love and hate comes pouring out as they perform, adding an immediate and urgent emotional undertone to the music. As The Sports Guy says, it was indeed magical.
******
I'm going to end on an important, if quite dark, note that left me speechless:
"Two marines cautiously approach the car. It is shot up, its doors wide open, lights still on. Sgt. Charles Graves sees a small girl of about three curled up in the back seat. There's a small amount of blood on the upholstery, but the girl's eyes are open. Graves reaches in to pick her up--thinking about what medical supplies he might need to treat her, he later says--then the top of her head slides off and her brains drop out.
No weapons are found in the car. A translator asks the father, sitting by the side of the road, why he didn't heed the warning shots and stop it. He simply repeats, "I'm sorry," then meekly asks permission to pick up his daughter's body. The last the Marines see of him, he is walking down the road carrying her corpse in his arms."
-------Evan Wright, contributing editor to Rolling Stone, who spent two months in Iraq living with the Marines of the First Reconnaissance Battalion. The three-part article can be found in the June 26, the July 10 and the upcoming issue of Rolling Stone, or just follow the links:
Rejuvenated and re-energized after my little sojourn to the south, I'm back amidst the chaos of home. Although way too short, good times were had by all. Coming later tonight to a screen near you, my thoughts on the White Stripes in concert and random news bits. Peace out.
"I drink and drown in my own iniquity,
but fuck it, I'ma rap till you all get sick of me."
----Kon Artis
In the interest of updating the stagnating Spins, Flicks, and Words section I'm going to knock out the last two items and because I love my readers (both of them) there will be a BONUS SPIN!
Also, you may have noticed a new sidebar section that archives entries by category giving you, the valued reader, quick, convenient access to all my worthless opinions.
RABBIT-PROOF FENCE
Phillip Noyce's Rabbit-Proof Fence is a simple yet affecting film, based on a true story, about the journey of three young girls from a detention center back to their families. The historical background of the film is a harrowing story in itself. Throughout the twentieth century, as late as 1970, the Australian government enforced a policy of separating half-white, half-Aborigine children from their families in the outback and "educating" them in detention centers. The children were taught to be domestic servants and factory workers and ultimately white Australians hoped to "breed out" the inferior genes. The scene in which Kenneth Branagh, playing the man in charge of the program, explains the dubious science behind the institutional racism is chilling. He, along with most of the film's white characters, is compellingly convinced that what they believe is right. The conviction with which Branagh says that the Aborigine genes must be "simply bred out" is truly scary.
The three girls, played by three Aborigines, (a feature on the casting process on the DVD is fascinating) escape the center and begin a 1500 mile journey back to their family. There is no mistreatment at the center, but Noyce very clearly gives us a sense of the natural fear and grief the children must feel after such a traumatic separation. The girls' guide is the rabbit-proof fence, a fence constructed to keep farmlands safe from rabbits and essentially dividing the country between civilization and the outback. Along the way the girls are helped by strangers, some of them white, and show and endearing mix of perseverance and ingenuity.
Noyce's direction very subtly draws the viewer into the film. The camera swoops and floats over the girls as they make their journey, giving their story a mythic and legendary quality. Their small triumphs will uplift you, but the ending will break your heart. Beautiful and emotionally powerful, Rabbit-Proof Fence will leave you overwhelmed with the realization that real people, in very recent times, had to endure such inhumanity.
MS. DYNAMITE - A LITTLE DEEPER
If you're like me and you thought that Lauryn Hill's Miseducation CD was just a tad too preachy at times, well then Ms. Dynamite is the artist for you. Equal parts conscious hip-hop, radio friendly R&B and Jamaican dancehall party jams, A Little Deeper is one of the most intelligent and complete albums of the year.
Despite her young age, the British Ms. Dynamite has alot to say and is clearly not interested in pulling any punches, "You talking like you a g/But you a killer killing your own/You're just a racist man's pussy." Her raps cut and bite with a wisdom that avoids cliche preaching, and her smooth voice is heavy with a hurt and urgency as she recounts her own experiences and observes the problems of those around her.
The production on A Little Deeper is just as fresh and new as Ms. Dynamite. The beats are diverse and inventive and provide the perfect compliment to Dynamite's voice. Conscious without being preachy, sexy without being exlpoitive and at times, deeply personal, A Little Deeper is a cut above typical American R&B.
BONUS SPIN: METALLICA - ST. ANGER
By special request from the oft-mentioned G, I am going to offer my review of the new Metallica. First of all, this CD should come with a warning label. CAUTION: THIS ALBUM WILL BLUDGEON YOU WITH ITS WALL OF NOISE.
With that said, I think it's an excellent album. A review that G pointed me towards claims that aside from the musical merits or shortcomings of St. Anger, a more important artistic statement is being made by the band's production choices and recording process. I'm not sure about all that, (that's on some serious Duchampesque-modern-art shit), but St. Anger is definitely unlike anything else Metallica has done in the post-Black album era. What was left? Metallica had experimented with everything, even releasing an album of covers and recording with a symphony. In a way, then, it's very fitting that Metallica has gone back in time for its next album. Up until Black, Metallica had followed a progression, an evolution from speed, thrash metal, to slick, tuneful mainstream metal, but whatever form their music took Metallica infused it with their own sense of majesty, their knack for monster riffs backed by epic soundscapes. ( My first exposure to Metallica was the video for "One". It scared me, I was 7, but I was also profoundly impressed and affected by the drama of the music, and I think that speaks to the unique, broad appeal that sets Metallica apart.)
St. Anger keeps the signtare Metallica stamp, while returning to the raw, brutal metal of their early 80's incarnation. Metallica doesn't just imitate their early music, though, they twist it. Scratch that. They stick a knife into it and twist it, and they keep twisting until it hurts. The production is spare and hungry. The guitars swerve and crash, stop and start. James' vocals crack and strain under the weight of his emotional release ("Fran-tic-tic-tic-tick-tock, Fran-tic-tic-tic-TICK-TOCK!") St. Anger is harsh at first listen, but it will grow on you.
*******
"Make me call my homey on the phone
Like there's somethin new out, that got me in the zone
Just that feelin, got me
I wish music could adopt me"
----Erick Sermon
The first unofficial attempt at counting the number of civilian casualties in Iraq was made public today. The Associated Press estimates around 3,000 Iraqi civilians were killed based on visits to hospitals throughout the country.
It is true that in any war, however just or unjust, there are civilian casualties. But the American leadership continues to exhibit an extreme arrogance about the matter ("Our efforts focus on destroying the enemy's capabilities, so we never target civilians and have no reason to try to count such unintended deaths,"). Add to that the repeated showing-off of the "advanced" weapon technology that would always just hit just their targets, makes the fact that thousands of innocent Iraqis died all the more abhorrent. In the military's defense, Iraqi troops did routinely hide in residential areas and dress up as civilians, but 3,000? As a low estimate? With all the talk of the professional and technological superiority of the U.S forces, this unnecessary loss of life is truly sickening.
For the Iraqis themselves, the meaning of this level of loss is debatable. As shown in the article, some question whether the removal of Saddam was worth the loss of loved ones, while others maintain that those killed are fallen martyrs, honorable sacrfices made for the freedom of their people. This is never an easy question especially given the state of absolute chaos that Iraq has been in since the end of the war two months ago. Security is a serious issue, many areas are without basic utilities (I watched a report on TV yesterday showing how children, infants even, are dying everyday due to dysentery and diarrhea caused by the lack of clean water) but, of course, Americans in Iraq are too busy looking for non-existent weapons of mass destruction (more on this later) and guarding oil wells to clean up their own mess. Surely, this type of "freedom" makes even the staunchest Saddam haters doubt whether the lives of their countrymen are more valuable than the removal of a tyrant.
I definitely don't have any real answers. I've spent a lifetime wondering whether a free, but horribly poor and corrupt, Bangladesh is worth the loss of my grandfather and my uncle. One part of me says yes, it is honorable, it is noble, it is necessary, freedom from oppression, genocide and tyanny must be won at all costs. But is being dragged out of your home in front of your family, lined up against a wall, executed and thrown into a mass grave noble? More importantly, is it necessary? Was it necessary that my mother and her sisters had to hide for days in the back of an oxcart en route to an Indian refugee camp, because they were afraid of being raped by Pakistani soldiers?
I have, probably always will have, mixed feelings about it. I am proud. It is probably the most significant source of pride that I have to be able to say that, yeah, my grandfather and my uncle and my entire family sacrificed everything so that I can tell people, I'm Bangladeshi. They died so I can say, "I'm not from East Pakistan, I'm from Bangladesh", and I'm proud of that.
But it is also so sad. So sad that it had to happen in such a tragic way. So sad that I still cannot go and visit the gravesites of my grandfather or my uncle because they have none. Iraqis today are struggling with these same issues and one thing I do know for sure. Because we, willingly or not, have taken it upon ourselves to "liberate" the Iraqi people, we must also follow through and allow them to build a stable, proserpous democracy of their own making. We must stop dicking around trying to find Saddam and his imgaginary weapons and help the Iraqis rebuild what is left of their lives. Then, at least, it will be worth it. Sort of.
*****
One of the main reasons the Bush administration gave for going to war in the first place was to make sure that Saddam could not use his alleged weapons of mass destruction against other nations. It is going on two months since the war ended and no weapons have been found. Additionally, reports are surfacing that the intelligence that Saddam had weapons was not only faulty, but might have been doctored to help convince people of the need for war. I read a letter to the editor the other day saying that it shouldn't matter. The war is over, Saddam is gone, the Iraqi people are free so we should concentrate on the future. This is a reasonable point, but the issue isn't that the weapons can't be found so the war was wrong. The issue is that the justification used to convince Congress, our allies and the American public that we should go to war, was based on a pure lie.
No, politicians lying to the public is nothing new. But in matters of war, of life and death, outright deception is inexecusable. The administration should be held accountable for deliberately decieving the American people into supporting this war. If not, a dangerous precedent will be set that will give the government free reign to do as they wish without regard for the people that put them in power.
Fortunately, the "Internet" has made communication within this democracy efficient and wonderfully simple. I urge everyone to visit TrueMajority.org With this service, you can send letters and faxes directly to your Representatives and Senators by literally just clicking a button. Another growing and effective email-based service is MoveOn.org. These are very worth checking out, and participation is limited to clicking a few buttons. Apathetic people say it doesn't matter, politicians won't listen anyway. Wrong. America is, however flawed, still a democracy, and they will have to listen if we keep speaking out. They sure as hell won't listen if you never speak up.
Much has already been made of The White Stripes and their new album, Elephant. The album recieved 5 stars from Rolling Stone, which only happens once or twice a year.
I don't have too much to add to all the accolades. I agree that Elephant is one of the most accomplished and complete rock albums to be released in quite a while. Jack and Meg White have kept everything that, up to this point, has made them so unique and appealing: a spare two-person sound, Jack's supremely gifted songwriting and guitar playing, the contrast between the strong blues-based rock and Jack's bizarre falsetto. On Elephant, they develop and add to this wonderful mix, the blues is still there, but this time they bring the thunder for real. The drums pound, and the guitars soar and crash back down with a delicious crunch on songs like "Seven Nation Army", "Little Acorns", and "Black Math". Jack unleashes some blistering solos like on "Ball and Biscuit". To top it off, Meg even grabs the mic to mellow us out on "In the Cold, Cold Night" and "It's True that We Love One Another".
I don't have a clever ending...so I'll just quote Chris Rock, "The White Stripes are for real."
So...When did you fall in love with hip-hop?
This is the opening line from the movie Brown Sugar, not a spectacular or mind-blowing film by any measure, but for me personally, it is a very important one. Brown Sugar is the first movie to attempt to intelligently explore the love-hate relationship between a devotee of hip-hop and the music itself. The makers of the movie, director Rick Famuyiwa and writer Michael Elliot, draw a formulaic parallel between the fan-to-music relationship, and a typical movie romance between the two principle characters, Sidney, played by Sanaa Lathan, and Dre, played by Taye Diggs. Elements of this device, in addition to the theme of pinpointing the importance of music as milestones and as the soundtracks to our lives has been seen before in arguably better movies such as Almost Famous and High Fidelity . The significance of Brown Sugar is that it places these familiar stories and themes in a new and refreshing hip-hop (and largely African-American) context. For a better and much more eloquent article on this aspect of the movie please see the Salon.com review of Brown Sugar.
The movie opens with current and past hip-hop artists (Common, ?uestlove, Method Man, De La Soul, Doug E. Fresh) recalling when it was that they fell in love with hip-hop, firmly placing the rest of the story in a love-letter-to-hip-hop context. It is a shame that this thread becomes less developed than the romantic plot, which is entirely predictable but avoids complete cliche based on the strength of the performances.
Lathan in particular embodies a perfect mix of strength and vulnerability as she struggles with her love for her best friend Dre, her new job as editor of hip-hop publication XXL, and the advances of Kelby, a star basketball player and wannabe hip-hop artist. Also of note there is Mos Def's supporting role as Chris, the rapper/taxi driver who figures prominently within Dre's subplot of rediscovering his love of hip-hop. Chris' humor is perfectly dry and Mos' comic timing is one of the main highlights of the movie. More comic relief is provided by Rin and Tin, the "Hip-Hop Dalmatians", one white and one black rapper whose antics drive Dre from his cushy major label job. The main romance and the subplots are executed with intelligence and without cliche, but unfortunately their development detracts from what could be a movie by itself, the range of emotions that the music we love inspires.
This is really what I want to talk about. In a frustratingly few scenes, Brown Sugar captures that excitement, that rush that comes with the realization that you are experiencing something new. That you are part an expression of pure creativity, an expression that reflects you. That IS you. That is, ultimately, beautiful; it doesnt have to be hip-hop, doesnt even have to be music. Brown Sugar is about our relationship with what inspires us.
*******
The love-letter to hip-hop has been musically articulated by Chicago MC Common in an excellent trilogy of songs.
I Used to Love H.E.R. from Common's Resurrection album.
Act Too...The Love of My Life from The Roots' Things Fall Apart.
Love of My Life with Erykah Badu from the Brown Sugar Soundtrack.
A while ago my homeboy Gautam wrote about the moment when you first "get it" after hearing a song. That certain mix of emotions that hits you the first time you hear a kick ass piece of music. It's the story of my life. Fist pumping 80's arena rock like Poison and Bon Jovi propel my childhood memories. Bands of the early 90s that changed the world of rock, Pearl Jam, Nirvavna, Smashing Pumpkins, play in the background while my own world changed during adoloscence.
But home was always hip-hop. It has grown with me, taught me, nurtured me, protected me. It has inspired me by its diversity, tolerance, adaptability, inclusiveness and most of all accessibility. You don't have to be a big star, with big hair and tight pants and expensive instruments. All you need is a mic, and your homeboy in the back with a couple of turntables.
Hip-hop has comforted me. It has provided me with an attitude, and more importantly, an identity. Growing up in the Texas suburbs, everyone around you is so white. Not just in skin, but white in outlook, in culture. In high school, there were approximately two people I could talk to about hip-hop. Everyone else I knew had a narrow-mindedness, a disturbing and frustrating dismissiveness towards this artform, just because it was different. Otherwise intelligent people, not only didn't know, but didn't care to know. If you don't like it, fine, but give it a real chance. It does have a message, it does have creativity, it is not just noise.
So hip-hop gave me my identity, my voice, strengthened by being forced to defend it. Its beats provided the backdrop for the good times, the parties. Its poetry enlightened me, gave me hope.
But there are two sides to any good relationship. Hip-hop has also frustrated me, often falling sadly short of its potential. It has betrayed me, if times are hard it has run after repetition, excessive materialism, and degradation.
But love is love. Hip-hop has always reinvented itself. It has always come back to show me new worlds, new possibilities. To open my eyes, to make me dance. To make me think, re-think, about what I know. To make me bob my head, like hell yeah, or, if its really good, to make me shake my head, like hell no, this can't be THAT good.
*****
So...When did I fall in love with hip-hop? I don't think I can pin down the exact moment. We've always just been there for each other. We probably always will.
You may have noticed a new tag-line for the pizzle. It's a line from "Thought at Work" from the Roots' new album Phrenology. I love this album, in fact it will be included in the next Spins, Flicks and Words update. "Thought at Work" is my favorite song from Phrenology (having replaced "The Seed 2.0" which I bludgeoned myself with through repeated listenings). Anyway, so its my new tag-line, because I'm not so stable and come on, look at me, I'm damn sexy.
You may also have noticed that there is a new link on the exciting sidebar. My big brother is getting married in July and he has created an informative website. Planning for this thing will take up the majority of my time this month, but I want it to be the greatest wedding ever, because its my brother and he deserves it. In general, I despise weddings, but the fringe benefits of getting to hang out with family and friends who I only see once or twice a year is what I really look forward to. We should have a solid couple weeks straight of shenanigans. Houston won't know what hit them.
...was convincing the world he didn't exist.
