"Here's what I think the truth is: We are all addicts of fossil fuels in a state of denial, about to face cold turkey." - Kurt Vonnegut, Cold Turkey
From New York Times - Kurt Vonnegut, whose dark comic talent and urgent moral vision in novels like “Slaughterhouse-Five,” “Cat’s Cradle” and “God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater” caught the temper of his times and the imagination of a generation, died last night in Manhattan. He was 84 and had homes in Manhattan and in Sagaponack on Long Island.
Mr. Vonnegut suffered irreversible brain injuries as a result of a fall several weeks ago, according to his wife, Jill Krementz.
Mr. Vonnegut wrote plays, essays and short fiction. But it was his novels that became classics of the American counterculture, making him a literary idol, particularly to students in the 1960s and ’70s. Dog-eared paperback copies of his books could be found in the back pockets of blue jeans and in dorm rooms on campuses throughout the United States.
Like Mark Twain, Mr. Vonnegut used humor to tackle the basic questions of human existence: Why are we in this world? Is there a presiding figure to make sense of all this, a god who in the end, despite making people suffer, wishes them well?
He also shared with Twain a profound pessimism. “Mark Twain,” Mr. Vonnegut wrote in his 1991 book, “Fates Worse Than Death: An Autobiographical Collage,” “finally stopped laughing at his own agony and that of those around him. He denounced life on this planet as a crock. He died.”
Not all Mr. Vonnegut’s themes were metaphysical. With a blend of vernacular writing, science fiction, jokes and philosophy, he also wrote about the banalities of consumer culture, for example, or the destruction of the environment.
His novels — 14 in all — were alternate universes, filled with topsy-turvy images and populated by races of his own creation, like the Tralfamadorians and the Mercurian Harmoniums. He invented phenomena like chrono-synclastic infundibula (places in the universe where all truths fit neatly together) as well as religions, like the Church of God the Utterly Indifferent and Bokononism (based on the books of a black British Episcopalian from Tobago “filled with bittersweet lies,” a narrator says).
The defining moment of Mr. Vonnegut’s life was the firebombing of Dresden, Germany, by Allied forces in 1945, an event he witnessed firsthand as a young prisoner of war. Thousands of civilians were killed in the raids, many of them burned to death or asphyxiated. “The firebombing of Dresden,” Mr. Vonnegut wrote, “was a work of art.” It was, he added, “a tower of smoke and flame to commemorate the rage and heartbreak of so many who had had their lives warped or ruined by the indescribable greed and vanity and cruelty of Germany.”
His experience in Dresden was the basis of “Slaughterhouse-Five,” which was published in 1969 against the backdrop of war in Vietnam, racial unrest and cultural and social upheaval. The novel, wrote the critic Jerome Klinkowitz, “so perfectly caught America’s transformative mood that its story and structure became best-selling metaphors for the new age.”
To Mr. Vonnegut, the only possible redemption for the madness and apparent meaninglessness of existence was human kindness. The title character in his 1965 novel, “God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater,” summed up his philosophy:
“Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you’ve got about a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies — ‘God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.’ ” [READ MORE]
The Secrets of Successful Racism: Why Eric Cartman can tell a joke and Don Imus can't.
From Reason Online
If the Easter decorations are still hanging around the Don Imus household, the craggy, cranky shock jock might feel inspired to study Jesus' discourse on judging others: This mulleted cracker-ass cracker has no business mocking anyone's hairstyle.
On Monday, the radio personality received a two-week suspension from NBC and CBS Radio for insulting the nappy-headedness of certain "hos" on the Rutgers basketball team. He appeared on Al Sharpton's radio show to apologize and explained that he was simply "trying to be funny" and "didn't think it was a racial insult," adding that "I can't get anywhere with you people." (A displeased Sharpton, echoing the angry midget's line from Bad Santa, replied, "What do you mean by ‘you people'?")
This scandal comes on the heels of Seinfeld star Michael Richards's race-baiting tirade last fall and right-wing author Ann Coulter's use of the word "faggot" at this year's CPAC convention; in both cases the ugliest words in the English language were played for laughs and received contempt instead. (I would congratulate Coulter for landing the role of Skeletor in the inevitable remake of Masters of the Universe, but a Google search for "Ann Coulter, Skeletor" garners 12,800 hits; apparently I have my own problems with wit.)
All three instances of failed shock humor -- Richards's, Coulter's and Imus's -- led to condemnations and calls for sensitivity from a myriad of politicians and activists; Democratic Senator and Savior Barack Obama chastised Imus for his "divisive, hurtful and offensive" words, further suggesting that no one with "a public platform" should attempt to find humor in race-based stereotypes.
The problem with this viewpoint is that the majority of Americans -- of all colors and classes -- have laughed at these hideous prejudices at some point; if you try to disassociate yourself from the hordes of hatemongers, your DVD collection better not include anything with Dave Chappelle, Chris Rock, Eddie Murphy, Sacha Baron Cohen, Mel Brooks, Trey Parker or Matt Stone. (If your DVD collection includes the abominable plagiarist Carlos Mencia, however, may God have mercy on your soul.)
From Lenny Bruce to Reno 911! American humor's most fertile ground has always been our racial, ethnic and religious dissimilarities, hypocrisies and insecurities; the P.C. witch hunts of the 1990s provided the fodder for numerous episodes of Seinfeld and South Park, which millions of Americans-most of whom would find real-life discrimination repulsive-enjoyed because they invoked "hurtful" stereotypes and provided a pressure release valve for our collective guilt, anger, confusion and repression. As any successful humorist will tell you, the most common praise comes in the form of "you say the things that everyone thinks but never admits!" Since most people can lose their jobs for tactless one-liners, the responsibility falls on our beloved entertainers...[READ MORE]
MUSIC
MAJOR MINER: ONLINE MUSIC DESCRIPTION GAME
New York, NY -- Announcing the release of Major Miner
http://game.majorminer.com
Major Miner is an online game about describing music. Players listen to 10-second clips of songs and score points when their descriptions match those of other players. These descriptions will be used to build applications for automatically searching and recommending music based on the audio itself.
Johanna Devaney, currently in 12th place overall, describes the game as "Music geekiness with a competitive edge. This game is insidiously addictive."
The game was conceived of and created by Michael Mandel. He is a co-founder of Major Miner, Inc. along with Marios Athineos and Graham Poliner. All three are researchers from Columbia University's Laboratory for the Recognition and Organization of Speech and Audio (LabROSA). Major Miner's mission is to build systems that facilitate intelligent music recommendation and discovery.
LabROSA studies ways in which computers can help people access and understand music and audio. Previous research projects have included automatic playlist generation, computerized song similarity analysis, and piano transcription. The lab is run by Professor Dan Ellis.
Featured Artist: Vivek Shraya
Electro/Dance/Pop artist from Canada set to release If We're Not Talking May 15th.
From his Myspace site: Vivek Shraya likes to run. Vivek Shraya likes to shake. Vivek Shraya made a record to run and shake to. Produced by Meghan Toohey. He calls it If We're Not Talking which is ironic because frankly, Vivek Shraya doesn't shut up.
Vivek Shraya is fluent in English, half-assed in French and brilliant in inappropriate IM discussions. Favorite words include: "HAHAHAHAAHAHA" and "OMG." Vivek Shraya is an English Major. Thankfully, Vivek Shraya does not repeatedly reference himself in the third person on If We're Not Talking. Out on May 15, 2007.
Vivek Shraya - "Fevered"
Featured Artist: Simone White
Simone White's Myspace Page
Simone White was born in Hawaii, where her family lived in a house on the north shore of Oahu. Her parents – a sculptor in light and a folk singer – were members of a philosophical school. The family moved around the US, lived communally, listened to only classical music and didn’t have a TV. For the pre-teen Simone, that meant sneaking Beatles albums in to the house and being the eternal new kid at school.
The family’s cultural austerity wasn’t genetically programmed. White’s maternal grandma was a performer in the burlesque tradition, a fiercely glamorous woman with an extraordinary wardrobe of (homemade) stage outfits. On the other side of the family, her aunt and grandfather ran a music publishing company that turned out songs for teen pop combos. “I have these 45s with different acts singing my auntie’s songs about bobby socks and not getting asked to the dance,” says White.
White was living in Seattle when she first started playing the guitar at 22, and unsurprisingly, her influences weren’t 50s teenbeat or the Beatles but Sonic Youth and The Pixies. It took several years and multiple moves – Seattle, Paris, London, New York – before White began playing and singing in what she describes as her true voice. “I stopped banging away at the guitar and started finger picking. I was listening to Low and was really inspired by their delicate guitars, their breathwork, the harmonies. I realized that I’d been afraid to sing beautifully, I’d sort of masked my real voice with this dissonant edge.” White started playing out in clubs, bars, art house parties, hanging out with a gang of poets. “It was from another time, everyone was playing jazz and doing surrealist theatre,” she smiles.
Summer 2004 found her in LA following a West Coast tour spent driving up and down through California, Oregon and Washington. “I was listening to Bonnie Prince Billy’s Master and Everyone the whole time, nonstop, and I kept saying to people, did you hear this record? I want to make a record like this.” She got an introduction and a phone number, and called Mark Nevers, its producer. In no time she pitched up in Nashville at Nevers’s home/recording studio the Beech House, stayed in his daughter’s bedroom and began recording I Am The Man. It was a happy and relaxed session. “It’s a big old wooden house with a huge oak tree out front, a porch with a swinging chair, two dogs a cat and his kids’ toys all over the place. The piano is in the living room, there’s a main recording room which would be a bedroom, although I also recorded in the hallway, the drums are out back in another room, everything is connected with windows so you can see each other. It’s a very nice, casual atmosphere to record in.”
After a break of several months – during which time White moved again, to LA – recording resumed in Nashville. This time, work was more intense and there were a few more surprises. “Mark brought in his musicians, his guys. He’s got this great group that he uses all the time. We recorded live, all spread out through the house. I’d play them a song a couple times, they’d huddle and do this Nashville thing, talking in code. Then we’d record. I was really amazed at what happened with The American War. I had no idea what it could sound like with a band. Being solo all the time it’s a revelation to suddenly be on a wave, caught up and carried along by so much sound. We recorded two days with the musicians, five songs in six hours each day. It seemed incredibly fast.” Nevers passed the recordings to Honest Jon's, during the sessions for Candi Staton's His Hands album. Simone returned to the Beech House for another couple of weeks — some new songs and arrangements, some second attempts — and that was that.
White is charmingly resistant to making comparisons to her sound: “It’s hard to say what you sound like when you’re in your own self. It’s very awkward when I’m asked, I shuffle and hum and haw and of course that’s dumb so I’ve taken to shouting “GOOD MUSIC”. You have to shout it though, like you’re a badass”. She’s much happier talking about her influences, which have moved from Sonic Youth to Nina Simone, Cesaria Evora and Odetta, and about songwriting. “I’ve written songs a few different ways. I thought for a long time that they just came to me, bam, and some of them do. But I saw that I was also writing them a long time before I sat down with the guitar. They start nudging and elbowing their way in and then suddenly I’m sitting down writing it.”
Leading off with Carole King's I Didn’t Have Any Summer Romance, I Am The Man takes in an enormously broad range of subject and mood; from a surrealist flight of fancy like Why Is Your Raincoat Always Crying? to the stricken intimacy of Sweetest Love Song or the clear-eyed and full-voiced protest of The American War. White doesn’t apologise for the wide vein of political song that runs through the record but she does recognize how hard she worked to make the songs a success: “I spent a lot of time trying to get them right lyrically; you’re walking a thin line with political songs, I tried to make them emotional and real and moving without being strident. There’s some humour in them too, that helps.” Politics, humour, love, despair and good tunes; Simone White has it all.
Stream four of her songs here.
Bonus: Catfish Haven WOXY Lounge Act