Inflatable Ferret - Volume III, Issue 2 by Inflatable Ferret

Vol 3 No. 2 ///// Feb 2011

MARK NAISON

TALKS CIVIL RIGHTS

SOUNDTRACK ARCADE FIRE'S GRAMMY VICTORY

WAKE UP CALL REVIEWS

FOR CAKE, DECEMBERISTS, & DESTROYER 80 Minutes of Underrated Music

by AFRICAN AMERICANS

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR T H AN K S F O R

picking up (so to speak) the latest copy of IF, known to some as Volume III, Issue 3. As promised, this one includes several reviews, including the fascinating documentary Marwencol and new albums by Cake, Destroyer, The Decemberists, and Smith Westerns. Rob DeStefano finds links between Blue Valentine and The Green Hornet in this month’s Double BoxOffice feature, and Ryan Waring remembers the beloved Pete Postlethwaite. This issue’s Black History Month sections are an interview with celebrated African American/History professor Mark Naison and 80 Minutes of Underrated Black Music, in which I finally pay ferret homage to my longtime hero. Fellow SLJ lovers, you will know what I’m talking about. Thanks for reading, and have a great February.

james passarelli

CONTENTS

Vol 3 No. 2 ///// Feb 2011 FEATURE

Arcade Fire's Grammy win, a farewell to Pete Postlethwaite, and double box office feature

REVIEWS

Read reviews for Cake, Destroyer, The Decemberists, and more

INTERVIEW

African American Studies professor Mark Naison talks civil rights music

PLAYLIST

80 Minutes of underrated music by African Americans

OUR STAFF

ISSUE CONTRIBUTORS Editor-in-Chief

Copy Editing

James Passarelli

Pat Passarelli Ainsley Thedinger

Layout Kathryn Freund

Featured Writers David Amidon Rob DeStefano Kathryn Freund Bryant Kitching James Passarelli Pat Passarelli Quin Slovek Ryan Waring

Web Design Greg Ervanian Rob Schellenberg

Photography The Arcade Fire James Passarelli LA Times Marwencol.com Jaimie Trueblood The Weinstein Company

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06FEATURE

GRAMMY WAKE UP CALL:

Why Arcade Fire's Victory Means More Than Glory RĂŠgine and Win in front of a Partners in Health (Zanmi Lasante in Haitian) building in Cange, Haiti (Photo: Arcade Fire Blog)

WORDS: Pat Passarelli

“ The less WHEN IN UFA,

you do as the Ufans do—so you don’t watch the Grammys. But it was unavoidable to piece together a few of the winners from my Facebook Newsfeed, where I was pleased to see a lot of my friends posting about Arcade Fire’s snagging the award for Best Album of the Year. I think I can speak for most music lovers when I say that mainstream award show committees are not adept at awarding the most talented artists, but I can’t complain with the choice for Best Album this year (we had it as #4 on our own list). Twitter has been buzzing with Gagaguzzling sheep unashamedly declaring their ignorance of Arcade Fire, further evidence that the Grammy actually went to deserving musicians instead of cheap pop-culture phenoms. The less publicized side of Arcade Fire’s win is that a lot of poor, sick people stand to benefit from the band’s growing celebrity and corresponding revenue. For seven years now, Arcade Fire has donated to and supported Partners in Health, a nonprofit health care organization now operating in Haiti, Lesotho, Malawi, Peru, Russia, Rwanda, the United States, the Dominican Republic, Kazakhstan, Mexico, Guatemala, and Burundi. The band first became involved after reading Tracy Kidder’s Mountains Beyond Mountains, the award-winning book detailing Paul Farmer’s efforts to establish and develop PIH. The band’s urge to collaborate with an organization still concentrating much of its effort on Haiti is no surprise to those familiar with its biography. The parents of multiinstrumentalist and singer, Régine Chassange, escaped from Haiti while dictator Jean-Claude Duvalier’s wreaked economic and political havoc on the country. “Haiti,” the popular hit from 2004’s Funeral, features both French and English lyrics which bemoan the loss of future generations of Haiti due to the vio-

publicized side of Arcade Fire’s win is that a lot of poor, sick people stand to benefit from the band’s growing celebrity and corresponding revenue.” lence of Duvalier’s reign of terror. The subtitle to “Sprawl II” from The Suburbs and the title of Kidder’s book reference the Haitian Creole proverb Dye mon, gen mon (Beyond mountains, there are more mountains), paying tribute to the repeated hardships the small island nation endures. The relationship between a great band such as Arcade Fire and an organization like Partners in Health is testament to the truth that good music is not produced in isolation from the rest of the world. Its quality, message, and spirit contain the potential for action and change. This is nothing new, especially in light of this issue’s theme of how black music has affected our world. Nonetheless, it is refreshing to see that in an age when vapid attempts at artistic endeavor often get more credit than legitimate creative works, bands with souls are still publicly lauded and their concrete efforts to enact social justice given the means to flourish. IF Arcade Fire accepting their Grammy Award on February 13, 2011. (Photo: LA Times)

feature

Remembering

PETE POSTLETHWAITE A Tribute to an Under-appreciated Legend WORDS: Ryan Waring

08 feature

IF THE WORLD

is indeed the solipsistic reality my ego tells me exists, then I have made a terrible, terrible mistake. You see, just shy of year’s end I finally fulfilled my annual, morbid pre-NewYears resolution of drafting a celebrity death pool for the upcoming year. I worked my list as if I were Mel Kiper drafting his Big Board and twistedly devised what I could have confidently bet would comprise the 2012 Oscar “In Memoriam” montage. In hindsight, my smug calculations were grounds enough for a lifetime of shaming. But I far from expected the kind of poetic justice I was delivered. My experience, admittedly, does not dictate the course of the world. And this isn’t my punishment. Pardon the following groaner statement, but this is a tough loss for everybody. On January 2nd, the world lost quite possibly the most underrated acting talent when Pete Postlethwaite lost a long battle with cancer. Pete Postlethwaite was more than his prominent cheekbones, although, I can’t deny they were an integral part of his performance. Unfortunately they contributed to the false impression that he was simply a character actor. The man had the art down. Steven Spielberg left no ambiguity, labeling him the “best actor in the world today" after directing Postlethwaite in The Lost World: Jurassic Park. Colleague Simon Pegg took to twitter to mourn the loss of "one of our finest actors," and Kevin Spacey, who worked with Postlethwaite on the set of Usual Suspects, said quite succinctly “noone was like Pete." But Pete Postlethwaite’s acting was more than extraordinary. Many outside the industry tried to verbalize the impression Postlethwaite’s performances left on them. Former UK deputy Prime Minister Lord Prescott tweeted that the actor's performances in Brassed Off and The Age of Stupid "had a real effect on me and our government." Gerard Conlon, whose father Postlethwaite portrayed in his lone Oscar-nominated role (In the Name of the Father), once stated, "I don't think anyone else could have

played my father…There's times I just look at it and I think, 'Jesus, that was my dad.' That's how good he was." All of Postlethwaite’s characters were so potently convincing. Despite being relatively unknown, he unquestionably had A-list talent (thus the niche that perpetuates the unfair “character actor” stigma). I always imagine casting directors burning the midnight oil with script in hand running their fingers through their hair uttering, “How the hell can I get someone good enough to take such a small, but difficult part?” Revelation: Pete Postlethwaite’s an acceptable answer to the famed Ghostbuster dilemma. Hence his ubiquity. It’s not just that his face is so recognizable. Postlethwaite could also land highprofile gigs because of his ability to hang with the A-listers. For me, he was the cherry on top of a number of impressive casts. Inception with Leonardo DiCaprio, Joseph GordonLevitt, Ellen Page AND Pete Postlethwaite? The Town with Ben Affleck, Jeremy Renner, Jon Hamm AND Pete Postlethwaite? The Constant Gardener with Ralph Fiennes, Rachel Weisz AND Pete Postlethwaite? The Lost World with Jeff Goldblum, Julianne Moore, Vince Vaughn AND Pete Postlethwaite? Usual Suspects with Kevin Spacey, Gabriel Byrne, Benicio Del Toro AND Pete Postlethwaite? The Shipping News with Kevin Spacey, Judi Dench, Julianne Moore, Cate Blanchett AND Pete

Postlethwaite? And remember who gave James those luminous little alligator tongues in James and the Giant Peach? You got it. That’s one highly sought, prolific character actor. And remember the spoken word that preceded the album version of Chumbawumba’s “Tubthumping”? That would be a sample from Postlethwaite’s monologue in Brassed Off. He’s everywhere. And now that you’re aware of it, expect him to drop in on your viewing habits from time to time. The cliché would suggest I thought Pete Postlethwaite’s acting could have cured cancer, and obviously that was sadly not the case… if only because the sloth whom Postlethwaite inspired to cure cancer lost that vocation somewhere under the pile of dirty clothes on the floor of his room (God, I hope I’m not referring to myself). Pete Postlethwaite had that elusive “sit down, shut up” charisma, but unlike the majority of its possessors, he didn’t come across as vain or an asshole. His genuine sincerity was fear inducing. Amid the muck of celebrity boilerplate charity plugs, Postlethwaite could deliver his views on climate change with unparalleled frankness. That’s the trait that best lent itself to his repertoire. His passionate personality was so conspicuously evident in his work. The talent and the man were one in the same. Both were impressive, inspiring and unique. And both will be sorely missed. if

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BOX OFFICE DOUBLE

Blue Valentine

Th Ho

Is there any connect

10 feature

FEATURE

he Green ornet

tion?

WORDS: Rob DeStefano PHOTOS: Jaimie Trueblood & Weinstein Company

SO IT BEGINS.

Somebody wants something really badly. The desire for the prize outweighs earthly logic. He or she is willing to go against all odds: to battle deadly assassins in hope of finding her daughter, to win a girl’s heart by playing Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” from a boombox. Some will walk freely across a rope, suspended between two buildings, and stop to have a conversation with a seagull. Welcome to life and/or Screenwriting 101. Like our favorite fictional characters, we are driven by endless MacGuffins. One man’s journey to sate his appetite for love will inevitably be unique, or at the very least, nuanced from the next man’s quest. In this ever-expanding world of film, it is the duty of the screenwriters, actors, and filmmakers to embellish a common determination and transform it into a worthwhile and cinematic treat. On the weekend of January 14th, theaters released two movies that were poles apart; when stripped to the core, their protagonists all desired the same thing: human connection.

feature

Blue Valentine Blue Valentine juxtaposes past and present moments of a young relationship, recounting the inherent messiness of interdependence. In an early scene, occurring in the present timeframe, Cindy (Michelle Williams) groggily prepares her daughter Frankie’s breakfast while her husband Dean

“ Not only

(Ryan Gosling) contributes in less appropriate ways, mimicking an animal eating raisins from the table. Frankie only sees the humor in this, but Cindy’s total unamusement with Dean suggests the harrowing subtext: has the search for security brought the couple to frustration and unhappiness? It’s a scene that functions from the characters playing worn roles of “good cop, bad cop,” but the cast and direction add a sincere subtleness, building the emotional framework for the retrospection. In these past sequences, we learn about the characters’ lack of connectivity to the world around them. Dean comes from a broken household and a neglectful mother. He works as a mover, lugging boxes and bulk from old places to new ones, just as people do with their personal “baggage.” He introduces an elderly veteran to a retirement home; going above and beyond, Dean unpacks the man’s belongings and arranges the room. He discovers a photograph of the man’s late wife. The two share a moment of reflection, one looking back on his romance, the other looking forward with the ambition of similar fulfillment. Cindy cares for her grandmother, transporting her back and forth from an assisted living center to

is the story's non-linear structure critical to the emotional payoff, but it adds an unexpected sense of intrigue.” 12 feature

the family’s home. There is a mutual appreciation between the two, but Cindy is looking for meaning elsewhere in her life. Some slightly clunky exposition reveals Cindy’s parents’ tumultuous relationship. She is burdened by their inability to love and identify with one another. Dean, meet Cindy. Please connect and inspire warm feelings about human nature. The characters are motivated by this symbiosis. It’s what drives them to meet, to wed, and to do other things throughout the movie. We learn from the opening that this isn’t going to be a typical love story.The film starts with the outcome of the characters’ battle, the battle being the fight for a meaningful human relationship. Is this spoiling anything? No. Is the film worth watching? Absolutely. The writer/director Derek Cianfrance, who freakishly resembles Gosling, makes every aspect of the film soundly significant and effective. Not only is the story’s non-linear structure critical to the emotional payoff, it adds an unexpected sense of intrigue that keeps us alert and inquisitive. While we know where the relationship is headed throughout the course of the flashbacks, Cianfrance supplies rewards expertly intertwined with the narrative, heightening the overall story and entertainment. Gosling and Williams furnish raw and unhindered performances in every scene, giving their characters a layered texture that makes it nearly impossible for the material not to resonate across the theater. The combination of film and digital video, separating the past from the present, and the use of a handheld camera invite the viewer to become part of the couple’s journey. We feel their joy, their pain, and their confusion. Blue Valentine, well done.

The Green Hornet Shifting genres, every action hero needs a motivation. As mindless as most superhero revampings may be, the protagonist will experience an inciting incident, putting his or her values and desires into perspective, and The Green Hornet is no anomaly. The film is blunt. Christoph Waltz is a villain and lives only to inflict fear among others (specifically a celebrity cameo). Britt Reid (Seth Rogen) is the story’s hero who must standup to the villain, but not before he finds a companion and self-worth.The Green Hornet opens with Reid as a child sitting in his father’s office at The Daily Sentinel, a newspaper that characters talk about so frequently it is forced into importance. Owning a business is tough, but raising Seth Rogen is even harder. Mr. Reid teaches us this by taking Rogen’s action figure and prying off its head. Flashforward, Mr. Reid dies, causing Britt to question his bachelor lifestyle that was so idealistic, rumor has it Vince Vaughn left the set of The Dilemma just to serve as a gaffer during these brief scenes. Feeling alone and filled with failed potential, Britt befriends Kato (Jay Chou), Mr. Reid’s former mechanic and assistant. The two strike up an overly boyish friendship. The Green Hornet is flawed in many respects, but the dynamic of Michel Gondry, Seth Rogen, and Jay Chou make it interesting nonetheless. Far beneath the thickness of

Rogen’s humor as an actor and as one of the adapted film’s screenwriters, there is a bizarre gravity about relationships. Simply speaking, the message beckons for condemnation; Britt and Kato discuss their plans as best friends forever, then lust after the same girl (Cameron Diaz), then relentlessly beat the shit out of one another in an extended fight scene that probably lasts near ten minutes. Friendship is difficult, but the wish for this connection is the driving force that creates the crime-fighting duo. The story questions the jealousy among friends and the difference between hero and sidekick. This motif hasn’t been present in current superhero movies, most likely since the addition of sidekicks has been kept to a lull (thank you, Batman & Robin), but it was somewhat refreshing to see this posed as a conflict between Rogen and Chou. At times it almost worked. The characters complimented each other, bringing each to his potential, something bulletproof cars and abundant wealth failed to inspire. Unfortunately, this was not enough. The film failed to establish a consistent tone; the pieces never seemed to connect. The blend of comedy, action, and rare drama created a distracting unevenness that was present from start to finish. Take an idea, a feeling, a desire. Set it in colonial America, give it to a serial killer, throw a cape around

“ The blend

of comedy, action, & rare drama created a distracting unevenness from start to finish.” it, or let an exposed and vulnerable couple embody it. Add an artistic vision—swooping cameras, a bold color palette, a droning score, or remove all the audio entirely. Storytelling is limitless; interpretations are endless. Sometimes it works, other times it doesn’t. if

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14INTERVIEW

Mark Naison Talks CIVIL RIGHTS SOUNDTRACK INTERVIEW: James Passarelli

FOR BLACK HISTORY MONTH,

we wanted to reflect on the impact black music had on easing racial tension in the wake of the civil rights movement. What better way to do that than talking to a man who experienced it firsthand? Okay, so he’s not quite black, but he’s the next best thing. Since enrolling at Columbia University in 1962, Mark Naison has had an active roll in the fight for black rights. His heavy involvement in social activist organizations like Students for a Democratic Society and CORE (Columbia’s Congress of Racial Equality) complimented his interaction with a mélange

of races in the neighborhood of his 99th Street apartment. In 1970 he took his first job as a professor for Fordham University’s newly founded AfroAmerican Institute, and he has been there ever since. You might recognize him as a past guest on The O’Reilly Factor or a contestant on the “I Know Black People” segment of Chappelle’s Show, or the author of the critically acclaimed White Boy: A Memoir. He has taught such diverse courses as “The Sixties,” “From Rock and Roll to Hip Hop: Urban Youth Cultures in Post War America,” and, most re-

cently, “Feeling the Funk: Research Seminar on Music of the African Diaspora.” I caught up with Naison in his office at Fordham University to discuss black artists’ part in transforming segregated America.

is college Naison and h ier. the color barr k a re b d n e ri girlf 9 Summer 196

Above and Below: Photos from Naison's childhood in Brooklyn. Spring 1959

16 interview

Mark Naison: When I think of music of the 60s, I think of a few things. One, there’s music of the civil rights movement that people sang when they were in jail or were sitting in and were about to be beaten by police, and they sang songs to get their courage up, like “We Shall Overcome” or “I Shall Not Be Moved.” These were old songs of the black church or the labor movement that gave people the courage to participate in actions that would expose them to grave danger. Then there are songs like Bob Dylan’s “The Times They Are a-Changin" and there’s an old song that Pete Seeger used to sing, and Peter, Paul, and Mary updated called “If I Had a Hammer.” These are all songs associated with the nonviolent civil rights movement led by Dr. King and the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee. But then there are also songs that were done by mainstream artists that had a big influence, like Curtis Mayfield’s “People Get Ready.” And, of course, a lot of these artists came out of the black church too… Sam Cooke’s “A Change is Gonna Come.”Then later, when you begin to move into the black power stage, you have songs like James Brown’s “Say it Loud—I’m Black and I’m Proud.” But you could almost argue that all of James Brown’s music was an affirmation of the African roots of black culture, which had always been kind of suppressed, and every instrument becomes a percussion instrument. And it did coincide with the whole phase of black power and black consciousness in the late 60s. You could say the same thing about Sly & the Family Stone—“Thank You For Letting Me Be Myself Again”—and, of course, Sly having a band with mixed race and gender. But I also think of Otis Redding who—even though his music was not explicitly political— had that soulful feeling that took the black culture in its most emotional and intense form and out it into music. And also broke out of just R&B and into popular music the way James Brown did, and Aretha Franklin with that amazing album I Never Loved a Man the Way I Loved You, and her taking Otis Redding’s song “Respect” and turning it into a women’s rights anthem. So, that’s the short

answer. [laughs] IF: Would you say the main thing that black music did for the civil rights movement, and even before it, was permeate American culture and force people to recognize them? MN: Well, there was black music permeating American culture even before the civil rights movement with people like Chuck Berry. He was not an activist, but he was a black artist who became a folk hero to a whole generation of young whites, and he was the person they danced to. You could say that sort of fertilized the soil for the movements of the 60s. Or even Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers. I grew up with African American artists that I emulated, and that was a new experience for growing up white in America, and I’m sure my experience was common. Because early rock ‘n’ roll was pretty much rhythm and blues with a little bit of country. Later it became sanitized, but by that time, by the time the Beatles and the Stones were coming in, you had an actual political civil rights movement. So there’s the very conscious music that people sang at demonstrations, or that reflected those demonstrations, and then there’s the rock ‘n’ roll, which was like black music infiltrating the consciousness of white youth even before there was a mass civil rights movement. If you look at the civil rights movement, there was the Montgomery bus boycott of ’55-’56, but then there was a four-year period where very little happened in the form of protest. And then the student sit-ins took place in ’60 and ’61, and until ’65 it was one demonstration after another. So the 50s, except for the Montgomery bus boycott, were pretty quiet from a civil rights standpoint, but there was rock ‘n’ roll—and the people making rock

“ You could say that [black music] sort of fertilized the soil for the movements of the 60s...I grew up with African American artists that I emulated, and that was a new experience for growing up white in America.”

‘n’ roll had absolutely no connection to the people who were protesting; in a sense, people protested in jackets and ties and the rock ‘n’ rollers had the open shirts and were shaking their butts. So it was two different constituencies, but maybe working toward the same result. There's a rock ‘n’ roll documentary that shows Carl Perkins talking to Chuck Berry, saying, “Chuck, maybe we are doing as much with our music as the political people are doing to break down the barriers.” And I agree with that. I show that movie in my 60s class because rock ‘n’ roll was such a powerful statement. IF: Do you remember what your introduction to black music was? MN: I would say [Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers’] “Why Do Fools Fall in Love.” But I didn’t think of it as “black music.” I thought, “Oh, this is rock ‘n’ roll!” I’m this eleven year-old who just plays ball and has no interest in girls—all of a sudden, we’re going to parties and dancing, playing kissing games. It was a whole revolution in how we saw and conducted ourselves, and a lot of those songs that were the soundtrack to

interview

18 interview

that revolution, especially in New York, were black doo-wop groups, like the Drifters, Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers, Little Anthony and the Imperials. And then some Italian guys like Dion and the Belmonts. But again, it wasn’t something conscious; you didn’t think “black.” You thought, “rock ‘n’ roll, excitement, parents hate this stuff, this is fun, this is cool.” And then I became aware of civil rights largely through what I saw on television—the demonstrations and the marches and the police beating demonstrators. Then I thought, “Wait a minute, there’s something really wrong here.” Then I started reading books. And I didn’t necessarily connect it to the music I was listening to, but I’m sure the music, on some subconscious level, made me receptive. By ’63, when I became involved in the protest movement, I became very aware of folk music. There are really two traditions—well, there are more than two—but if you were a white kid, you were exposed to black culture through rock ‘n’ roll and you became exposed to protest culture through folk music—Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Peter Paul and Mary. In the black culture, you had the gospel music too, but that was something I learned about later and realized that the church fed the civil rights music. I got totally into soul music and Motown in the 60s, but by that time I was a civil rights person; I was very aware, and then I was starting to think about race and music. But as an eleven or twelve year-old in a working-class neighborhood in Brooklyn, it was just music. It was the same thing with sports. A lot of my athletic heroes were black. I didn’t think of them as black. I liked the way Willie Mays caught the ball. I don’t know if you ever saw his basket catch—it was ridiculously cool. Then there was Elgin Baylor, who produced the double-pump move, where you hang in the air and bring it in and out. If you could jump high, it was a hell of a way of getting off your shot. So that was a style that affected us. But I didn’t think, Elgin Baylor—black, Bob Cousy—white. It wasn’t for me until the 60s that I put the pieces together, but as a historian looking back, I have to think that

“ "I think music touched

more people [than sports] because it touched women, as well as men. Sports in the 50s and 60s was a totally male preserve, in a way you can’t even imagine...Music was where we came together.”

rock ‘n’ roll was a cultural revolution in terms of how youth, especially young whites, dealt with race. IF: Which do you think was more effective at that? Sports or music? MN: I would say music. I think music touched more people because it touched women, as well as men. Sports in the 50s and 60s was a totally male preserve, in a way you can’t even imagine. My wife was a very good athlete and had the one option of being a cheerleader in high school. There were no women’s teams. And men would follow sports teams fanatically and know every statistic. And women had their own world, which God knows I had no idea of what it was and certainly didn’t care. Music was where we came together. As far as I was concerned, girls were a different species—I never had a sister. Then, all of a sudden, rock ‘n’ roll came and we were all together. I think music is incredibly powerful. IF: How about film? MN: We weren’t a big film family. My parents were so goddamned strict that I couldn’t go to the movies with

the other kids by myself, and I pretty much avoided ever doing anything with my parents. So I never started going to the movies until I was in college, so I’m a bad person to ask about this, but I can’t think of movies that made a big impression on America’s consciousness. IF: During the civil rights movement? MN: Yeah. IF: How about later? MN: I mean, something like [Stanley Kramer’s] Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, which dealt with racial marriage. That’s the one movie I can think of that had an impact in that way. And then later, you have Shaft and Superfly, but by that time, things had evolved. Television though—the whole civil rights movement was like one big movie. You saw everything on television, and it was unbelievable. This was the brilliance of nonvio-

lence: you had demonstrators in jackets and ties and their Sunday best and these hoodlum-looking white people smacking them around and spitting at them. And it just flipped the script——the normal image of American was that we couldn’t integrate because blacks were too savage and animalistic… Huh? Huh? Who the fuck are you kidding? It was brilliant, and we had years of it, where the whites were barbarous whites. It’s like Sarah Palin running for vice president. Sometimes I think the Obama people invented her, that she was made in a laboratory to ensure that Barack Obama got elected. This was the same thing; it was such a gift—these thugged out white people who were beating on demonstrators who were respectful and incredibly eloquent and referencing Christianity and American ideals. Even as a kid in Brooklyn who was a little bit of a thug myself, it was like, “holy shit, this is ridiculous, this is wrong.” But that’s really from about ’61 to ’65. And the student sit-in movement started that, and then right on through to the freedom rides and into the Birmingham demonstrations and Selma. This was all televised. Every night you sat in front of the TV, and you didn’t have much competition in the house. That’s the thing that’s hard to imagine— no iPods, no cell phones, no text

messaging. Every night, that’s what you did—you watched television, everybody did that. You had to go somewhere to go to the movies. There’s no HBO or VCRs or DVDs. And thinking about it, it made it one country in a way. There was this period when television just unified everybody, and the radio unified everybody. You had a few mediums, which became permeated by this great cultural phenomenon, but also moral crusade, and it really got to us. IF: Did you ever see the recording industry as exploitative? MN: I had no conception of what a recording industry was as a kid. You didn’t think “recording industry.” You didn’t think “exploitation.” You didn’t think of where the music came out of unless you wanted to make a record. Even in that time, most of the people making the records were like these storefront characters. Have you seen Cadillac Records, the movie? IF: No. MN: It’s about Chess Records—it’s a great movie. Chess Records wasn’t much bigger than this room. Motown was tiny. It was grassroots stuff. So I don’t think people thought in those terms—that was all later looking back on it. In a way it was a sort of innocent time, but it was a wonderful time because everything was right in front of you. It was such a different country in the 50s. Very few people were really, really rich, and not that many people in a place like New York were really, really poor.

Even as a kid, you were told you had it really good because it was the Cold War and we were fighting communism, and aren’t we lucky to live in America. And my parents also told us we had it good because they had lived through The Depression. So it was like, “Oh my God, we have it really good.” But there’s this whole group of people who are being kept out of this. What the hell is that about?” And you see those images on television, and you say, “This makes no fucking sense whatsoever.” And then, of course, there are the black kids in your neighborhood, and there aren’t many of them. And no one talks about race. In all my years in Brooklyn, I never had a conversation with one of my black friends about race. I didn’t have those conversations until I was away at college. My doubles partner was black—never said a word about that. I commuted with a couple black kids because I was out of my district— never talked about it. But this was ’58 through ’60. By ’65 everything was out in the open. if

NAISON'S CIVIL RIGHTS

PLAYLIST

TRADITIONAL FOLK SONGS "We Shall Overcome" "I Shall Not Be Moved" BOB DYLAN "The Death of Emmett Till" "Only a Pawn in Their Game" PETER PAUL AND MARY "If I Had a Hammer" SAM COOKE "A Change Is Gonna Come" CURTIS MAYFIELD AND THE IMPRESSIONS "People Get Ready" NINA SIMONE "Mississippi Goddam"

interview

FILM REVIEW Marwencol Directed by Jeff Malmberg

Mark Hogancamp is an artist in the purest, strangest sense of the term, in part because he never meant to be one. After a crippling injury that drove him to become a hermit in his own fantasy world, Hogancamp has brought out into the real world again, this time on the silver screen with a unique and empathetic new documentary Marwencol. Once a self-destructive alcoholic with a talent for illustration, Mark Hogancamp was reborn after being viciously jumped by five men outside a bar in Kingston, New York in 2000. Beaten into a nine-day comma that erased his memory entirely, Hogancamp was forced to relearn everything from reading and writing to his ex-wife’s name. Wracked with a subsequent case of PTSD that drove him to shut himself off from the real world, Hogancamp instead recovered both his artistic imagination and his fine motor skills by painstakingly constructing the miniature town of WWII-era Marwencol, Belgium in his backyard. With the expansiveness of a rambling epic poem, Hogancamp created a fantasy world in his backyard with his 1/6th scale town. Using a cast of reconfigured Barbies and GI Joes, most of whom are alter egos of his friends and family, Hogancamp populated Marwencol with a vivid cast of characters. His eye for detail is painstakingly involved: he lovingly assembled every bit of minutia from the clip on tiny handguns to the pinups inside his box-sized bar, Hogencamp’s Catfight Club, aka the Ruined Stocking. Forced into exile from the real world and only speaking to a few

SS “Hogie” marries his Russian bride Anna.

select friends and documentarian Jeff Malmberg, Hogancamp instead chooses to play God to a cast of virtuous soldiers, cat-fighting local women, bullying SS officers and even a mysterious time-traveling Belgian witch named Dejah Thoris. In order to record the everexpanding storyline in his head, Hogancamp began photographing scenes from his fantasy as a kind of ongoing photo-comic. With no formal training and a broken-light meter on his camera, Hogancamp’s photos are nevertheless remarkably life-like, engaging, haunting and strange. Malmberg’s Marwencol deftly balances a portrait of Hogancamp’s personality with a sharp analysis of his art, not an easy task for a documentary that also maintains a brisk, enjoyable pace throughout. Marwencol, which sometimes incorporates stop-animation to help enact the towns “history” would have worked simply as a showcase for Hogancamp’s incredible “war photography,” yet it surpasses that, examining the man behind the fantasy in a way that is intimate, affecting and even hilarious. Hogancamp explains

how he gutted a VCR that “ate his best porno” in order to make Dejah Thoris’ time machine. Friends and neighbors affectionately explain how they’ve won battles, or been killed off, within the world of Marwencol. When a co-worker’s doll double was shot by the Nazis she seemed noticeably upset to hear the news, although Hogancamp has a tendency to reincarnate characters. Hogancamp is incredibly magnetic, he “walks” his model Jeeps on the highway (to make the tires look more realistic), chain smokes and narrates the goings-on of Marwencol with a mixture of affection, humor and occasional rage. The photo-sequence scene in which Hogancamp’s doll five SS bullies beat “Hogie” before they are eliminated by the women of Marwencol is the bizarre dramatic high point of Malmberg’s film. After this harrowing encounter with the SS “Hogie” marries the Russian Anna, a Soviet-chic Barbie doll based on his now forgotten ex-wife. The most complicated and heartbreaking thing about Hogancamp’s hermetically sealed Marwencol mingles

All photos courtesy of Marwencol.com.

“ Malmberg’s Marwencol with the “1/1 scale” world outside. As Marwencol progresses we hear Hogancamp refer to his Marwencol doll-marriage as if it were real, even tucking his most beloved town women into a tiny bed next to him before he goes to sleep. Simultaneously he prepares for a nerve-wracking art show in New York City and begins revealing the true nature of his shoe fetish. The story, in Hogancamp’s own words, “gets stranger by the minute,” but Malmberg’s care for his eccentric subject hardly misses a beat. Marwencol may be one of the best true-life portraits of artistic weirdness since Terry Zwigoff’s Crumb. Though Hogancamp’s and Malmberg’s friendship is apparent, (and solidified when Malmberg gets his own doll, a war reporter) Mar-

wencol does not use intimacy as an excuse to shy from the difficult questions of Hogancamp’s broken life. Is artistic acclaim helpful or destructive to a decidedly anti-social artist? Can it ever be healthy to hide inside a fantasy, no matter how artistically potent that fantasy might be? Malmberg has the directorial maturity to frame those questions without feeling the need to concoct any easy answers. For both Hogancamp and his viewers, Marwencol is an unlikely but beautiful exercise in the therapeutic qualities of fantasy, which makes it all the more interesting to watch through the semi-skeptical but loving lens of a thoroughly well made documentary.

deftly balances a portrait of Hogancamp’s personality with a sharp analysis of his art.”

quin slovek

reviews

MUSIC REVIEWS Showroom of Compassion Cake (Upbeat)

Cake never purported to be complex. The band works within the congenial confines of a simple formula, a formula comprised of HEEEEEYs and shouted backup echoes, trumpet solos, simple synth, undemanding chords, vibraslap, and regular car and phone references. More often than not, the formula was effective, and Cake yielded a tote box full of charming and enjoyable tunes. Consequently, they have never found it difficult to win radio support, but the band’s inability to garner serious acclaim from many music critics has left them without a niche. Not that they were looking for one. Their 1994 debut album Motorcade of Generosity, is a fantastic album. I don’t know why I feel the need to mention that. Perhaps it is a natural obligation to defend one of the first bands with whose entire discography I became familiar (and perhaps that was because they were the first rock band I heard bring trumpet to the foreground of a song, the naïve soul that I was). More importantly, however, the underrated Motorcade best exhibits how far Cake have fallen. Even the very title of Cake’s first album in six years, Showroom of Compassion, sounds like a discarded candidate for the name of their first one. Just as I feared (and hoped so desperately would not be the case), it is grossly unremarkable, hopefully capping off an increasingly steep down hill career for the Sacramento natives. If you’re a flow chart person, think “great to good to bad to worse.” Earlier Cake songs thrive on their self-propelled energy, even on slower ballads; here they seem almost defiantly apathetic. Lead singer John

McCrea and company share a flat and perfunctory delivery that begs listeners not to listen. But delivery is not their sole disease. Even Cake’s finest asset, McCrea’s clever (albeit, often nonsensical) deadpanned lyrics, has abandoned them. “You are mostly in your car. You always seem so far, no matter where you are. Everything you say is really just a play for you to get your way. And I found out yesterday that no matter what you say and no matter what you do, that you have got to— [chorus repeats].” Those are actual lyrics from “Got to Move,” and there’s no getting around the offensively evident truth: they’re awful. Listening to “The Winter,” the massively successful attempt at a generic pop song, for further evidence. “Alcohol, cigarettes, and luxury goods. Christmas lights look desperate in this room,” sounded McCrea’s supposed sincerity across my kitchen one day, at which point my brother, a fellow Cake fan, looked at me with his infamous “what the—“ face. “Can we change this?” he asked, and I swiftly obliged. The album moves at a crawler’s pace, and the songs are usually so sluggish that we’re elated to hear any form of variety or energy, as on “Easy to Crash,” Cake’s token explicitly car-

related song (as I mentioned before, every album has to have at least one, and this one is complete with sound effects at the end). Their token rockabilly replica? (the boring “Bound Away”) Not so much. The band still has the ability to write outrageously catchy songs. Even dawdling songs like “Got to Move” get stuck in your head. “Long Time” and “Mustache Man (Wasted),” the fullest song on the album, are both redeeming songs. But more often than not, after a minute or so, the catchiness becomes caustic, and nausea sets in. The difficulty comes in speculating whether Cake’s lackluster efforts are caused by severe writer’s block or utter lack of effort. Perhaps a combination of the two. The one bright spot for Cake, however, is the arrival of that long-awaited critical praise. The AV Club, Paste, and Boston Globe all gave the album favorable reviews, or so I’m told. I haven’t read any of them, because I am simultaneously indifferent to and horrified by what they might have found commendable. So long, Cake. We had joy, we had fun, even seasons in the sun. But the hills that we climbed were just seasons out of time.

james passarelli

“ The music

The King is Dead The Decemberists (Capitol)

Oh, The Hazards of Love. Where to even begin? Frankly, I enjoyed it, but I definitely might bear some sort of mythophillic, paleographic slant that the average listener, who would probably rather stick a “Kick Me” sign on the album’s back cover, lacks. Virgilian and Tolkein-esque imagery backed by faux-nostalgic prog-folk indulged quite a guilty pleasure. It was, however, … ambitious? Sprawling? Divisive? A Head-scratcher? Call it whatever, just please stick to euphemisms for “WTF were you thinking?!” Thus, the haphazard Hazards of Love. Contrarily, The Decemberists responded with an album infinitely humbler. Boasting a number of distinct blues, folk and Americana influences, The King Is Dead is doctor-issued R&R for those still experiencing migraine symptoms after wrapping their heads around the convoluted The Hazards of Love. Although at times bland and rigid, The King Is Dead suggests a group conscious of its critical perception and willing to tone down the self-seriousness, traits that had morphed into weaknesses rather than strengths after their last record. But “loose” is a word that’s never graced the pages of Colin Meloy’s cumbersome dictionary. So to achieve that sound, the Decemberists conspicuously invoke a spectrum of flagship Americana acts, from Harvest Moon Neil Young to Out of Time R.E.M. to Being There Wilco, and that unabashed acoustic catharsis that makes their music so timeless and simple. Bluegrass singer-songwriter Gillian Nash, and even R.E.M.’s own Peter Buck, supplement most of the album. The result is quite the Georgic, but not the grandiose pastoral Meloy may have ever imagined himself recording.

That’s not to suggest the Decemberists misplaced their library cards. The group still retains its verbosity, and as is even the case in their better albums, quite gratuitously, “Calamity Song” most evidently fulfilling that archetype. Even as a native cornhusker with an appreciation for the esoteric, the nonsense of “And the Andalusian tribes/ Setting the lay of Nebraska alight” heavily outweighs the academic brownie points. Likewise is the Infinite Jest allusion (“In the year of the chewable Ambien tab”) just a pretentious cultural name drop. So too is the music still technically sophisticated, despite the synonymy of Americana with rawness. The King Is Dead, like anything Decemberist, is rigidly precise, whereas every aforementioned genre is historically not. I can’t help but think how goofy the juxtaposition between Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young with Meloy, Koenig and Gibbard would look. And I can’t quite tell if Meloy’s vocals uncannily imitate Michael Stipe’s, or if that’s just a prejudice formed because of the prolific use of Peter Buck, compounded by a quote by Meloy that “Down By the Water” “started out as more of paean to R.E.M.,” compounded by the critical unanimity that that particular track bears irrefutable similarity to “Losing My Religion.” Obviously, I’m not alone in that opinion. Admittedly, The King Is Dead sounds more like a tribute album of the band’s favorite folk and blues covers than an original LP. Leadoff track “Don’t Carry It All” is rather uninspired and was initially what I thought would be a harbinger that perhaps the Decemberists are going to struggle with such minimal arrangements. So

[is] still technically sophisticated, despite the synonymy of Americana with rawness.” too are the Irish fiddle and grave lyrics of “Rox in The Box” comical empty threats, especially considering the Decemberists’ track record. But The King Is Dead more than has its moments. The lyrics on “Calamity Song” may be overzealous, but it musically captures the sound they seem to have sought to achieve, carefree folk-pop from a pleasant acoustic melody and toe-tapping giddy-up rhythm section, even though the guitar slide at the end desperately fails to make the song sound unscripted. The Decemberists sound much more comfortable as the album progresses, particularly on “Rise to Me,” and the very natural sounding guitar wail and harmonica solo. It’s a very peculiar release date. The King Is Dead would have made a perfect summer album if released then, and it’s not so distinctly summer to make one pine for the dog days as the entire U.S. gets pounded with snow. But it’s quite timely for an indie group coming off an effort indicating a clear identity crisis. The King Is Dead is a fitting transition for a group so naturally ambitious to a sound ambitiously natural.

ryan waring

reviews

“ Dye It Blonde

Dye It Blonde Smith Westerns (Fat Possum)

24 reviews

Smith Westerns are obnoxious. Last year I nearly swore off the band forever after a less than enjoyable encounter with one of their members in the crowd of a Girls concert. The guys are 20 years old and act 13, but goddamn they know how to write a catchy tune. Their selftitled 2009 debut was a strong effort but ultimately lacked any knockout punches to elevate it beyond relative obscurity. Tracks like “Tonight,” with its garage-fuzz riff and sweaty beat hinted that these Chicago boys might have some more tricks up their sleeve. Apart from that, I mostly forgot about Smith Westerns until they returned with “Weekend” at the end of last year. And boy what a return it was. The track exhibited a more polished and refined sound that quickly emerged as one of the best songs of the year. However don’t mistake adjectives like “polished” or “refined” to mean, “mature.” On their cleaned up and glammed out sophomore effort, Dye It Blonde, Smith Westerns sound as youthfully sportive as ever. Dye it Blonde is far more indebted to glam rock gods like David Bowie and T. Rex than its predecessor. Whereas their first album sounds as if it was recorded in a basement on a twenty-dollar budget, this time around there is a uniquely epic feel to most of the tracks. On “End of the Night,” frontman Cullen Omori sings, “Everybody wants to be a star on a Saturday night,” and it’s not hard to picture those words coming out of a fully made up and lipstickwearing Bowie circa Ziggy Stardust. Dye It Blonde manages not to sound bloated and overwrought due to the classic pop sensibilities and stripped down garage punk roots that

the Smith Westerns possess. The surprisingly multifaceted “All Die Young” lays down a slow but beautiful organ sound until bursting into a McCartney-esque sing-along. Similarly, tracks like “Still New” give a distinct British vibe, reminding us of The Kinks’ late-sixties output; even Omori’s high and throaty croon has a certain Ray Davies ring to it. Despite these comparisons, Dye It Blonde is far from mere nostalgia trip. The group’s punk demeanor still drives much of the album as it duels the ghosts of its influences. But what makes Dye It Blonde most enjoyable is Smith Westerns mastery of the guitar riff. Max Kakacek’s reverb-heavy riff is what made “Weekend” so infectious, and his skills up and down the frets give Dye It Blonde a fantastic boost. “Imagine Pt. 3” bounces along in familiar glam-punk fashion until climaxing with a gorgeous guitar explosion in the most satisfying 30-seconds on the album. On closer, “Dye the World,” Kakacek’s guitar slides leisurely through the track almost as a second set of vocals on the slow churning blockbuster. What Dye It Blonde lacks, similar to their debut, is the knockout track to raise it from good to great. Although there are no blatant missteps on the album, it is easy to get lost in the over abundance of slower tracks. After the borderline pop brilliance of “Weekend” right off the bat, it’s disappointing not to hear that level of mastery again. Regardless, Smith Westerns easily still manage to avoid the dreaded Sophomore Slump on what is an extremely enjoyable album full or surprises. On Dye It Blonde, Smith Westerns should at least be commended for their use

manages not to sound bloated and overwrought due to the classic pop sensibilities and stripped down garage punk roots that the Smith Westerns possess.” of a steady hand while in search of a specific vision, rather than throwing everything out there in a crowded mess of indie punk.

bryant kitching

“ It's the

Kaputt Destroyer (Merge)

Trouble in Dreams, let's be clear, was by no means a bad album. It's just that in the grand mythology of Dan Bejar, it stood quite brazenly as his most boring collection of songs since the late 90s. But where those albums failed from a lack of fidelity and direction, Trouble in Dreams suffered from the opposite effects. It seemed to be drowning in the effusive praise heaped upon its predecessor Destroyer's Rubies, too eager to stroke the same neurons as his first fullband masterpiece. On paper, it's an easy decision to understand—once you've given the fans exactly what they want, why not do it again? But the music felt disengaged, even apathetic in its attempt to turn the same trick twice. It's just not in Bejar's blood to play up to critical ideals, (see: Streethawk, Your Blues) and he struggled to hide that from everyone. Kaputt, then, is an album with some heavy lifting to do. It has to prove Bejar can still push himself, can still deliver his intensely meta lyricism without that feeling of pandering that invaded his most recent solo projects, Trouble in Dreams and husband-wife collaboration Hello Blue Roses. And most distressingly, it has to prove one of the decade's most creative and decorated artists isn't getting his mid-career “playing it safe” period started yet. Kaputt, from the opening "Chinatown" all the way through the closing edit of 2009's "Bay of Pigs", delivers a knowing grin and a wink, and lets the audience breath the sigh of relief we were all anxiously awaiting. Kaputt borrows plenty from Bejar's two-album sucker punch of Your Blues and Rubies, marrying the grandiose waves of synthesizers of

the former to the Bowie/Band ethos that guided the latter. Added to the mix is a heaping portion of sophisticated, sexual saxophone harmonics that add a refreshing new element to the Bejar sound. He also takes a cue from Hello Blue Roses, unexpectedly inviting soul singer Sibel Thrasher to sing backup vocals on nearly every track. While her contribution to "Blue Eyes" is one of the album's few stark negatives, the flavor that she adds everywhere else adds a New Pornographers-like wrinkle to the Destroyer mythology, taking it even further from its one-man band core. Kaputt doesn't have a standout pop song such as "Painter in Your Pocket", "Certain Things You Ought to Know", "Beggars Might Ride"; it's more reliant on mood and sequence than wowing you at any one specific moment. Consequently, the longer songs take center stage, with "Suicide Demo for Kara Walker" epitomizing the esoteric lyricism we have come to expect from Bejar (meta to the point that it constantly foreshadows "Song for America") and "Bay of Pigs" providing the sort of obtuse storytelling that made "Rubies" such a stunning track. Kaputt is, in every way, a Destroyer album Trouble in Dreams implied might no longer be possible. It's both quintessential Bejar and a style we've not quite heard from him before. It's the first Event Record of 2011, that one album you're rushing to the forums and party couches, asking anyone who will listen if they've heard that Kaputt album yet. All hail the return of the true Destroyer, folk rock demigod.

first Event Record of 2011, that one album you're rushing to the forums and party couches, asking anyone who will listen if they've heard that Kaputt album yet.”

david amidon

reviews

80 MUSIC

MINUTES OF

Underrated

AFRICAN

It’s no secret that “white music” has been borrowing from “black music” (if you want to make those distinctions) since the early part of the 20th century. But, as is expected, many fantastic songs by black musicians never see the light of day. We chose to use this issue’s 80 Minutes of Music to shine some light on a handful of those songs. The first half comprises deep cuts from well-known African American artists, and the second half consists of songs from some excellent but under-appreciated artists.

Deep Cuts from Well-Known Black Artists 1

5:36 CHIC – “You Can Get By” Bernard Edwards’ Niles Rogers’ 1977 eponymous debut album went Gold behind the force of smash hits “Everybody Dance” and “Dance, Dance, Dance (Yowsah, Yowsah, Yowsah),” but this A-Side closing disco gem often gets overlooked.

5:09 EARTH, WIND, & FIRE – “Africano” What would we do without Maurice White’s melting falsetto? Well, here’s a test – an instrumental Earth, Wind, & Fire track that will make you wish you were from Africa, while at the same time reminding you how happy you are just to be alive.

3:26 DINAH WASHINGTON – “You're Crying" Backed by Quincy Jones' band, one of the great overlooked artists in the soul canon is Dinah Washington. Her voice is one of the purest in the genre, and here she uses her sultry delivery to comfort a crying exlover that one day they'll meet again. "Crying just means you still believe we're really through," she coos during the climax. What a lonesome man wouldn't give to hear those words from his lady of choice.

2:54 BOBBY WOMACK – "(If You Don't Want My Love) Give It Back" This deep cut shows Bobby Womack at his best, cranking out gospel-style vocals for a very worthy cause—a simple, repetitive request to a lover in a triangle that she help him move on if she's willing to choose the other man.

4:28 DEVIN THE DUDE – “Cooter Brown" Devin the Dude is best known as the prototypical weed rapper, but planted right at the beginning of To tha X-Treme is a shockingly vulnerable moment: out of alcohol, weed and money, Devin slumps onto his couch and la-

26 playlist

ments the fickle nature of friendship and existence. Heady stuff from a guy best known for sweetly singing "I just want to fuck you" on Dr. Dre's 2001.

4:07 DONNY HATHAWAY – "Valdez in the Country" Donny Hathaway was renowned the world over for his vocal chops, which is what makes "Valdez in the Country" such a subtle stunner. Foregoing any singing in favor of an instrumental tribute to the beauty of a welltuned Rhodes, Hathaway effortlessly puts his compositional chops on display here.

4:42 LIL WAYNE – “Everything” These days, Lil' Wayne is accepted as ubiquitous. But his discography is so deep and labyrinthine there is plenty about his past of which current fans have no concept. "Ev-

erything", from his sophomore album Lights Out, is one such track. "I know you can't be close to me nigga, I know," he raps to his father on the chorus, as his verses explore the ways his life has become what it is. It's a rare, sober moment from the man best known these days for "Lollipop" and "Steady Mobbin."

3:38 SLY & THE FAMILY STONE – “Babies Makin' Babies" As the closing jam on Sly Stone's Fresh, "Babies Makin' Babies" has the unenviable task of closing one of the funkiest albums ever released. But with the simple, effective refrain of "babies makin' babies", the Family Stone ably supplies its usual dose of deep funk interspersed with mild social commentary and a track that can stand toe to toe with any of their better-known cuts.

3:30 SAMUEL L. JACKSON – "Stack-o-lee" Few moments of Craig Brewer’s Black Snake Moan are more gratifying than Samuel L. Jackson’s raucous take on the traditional folk song. Jackson tells his fitting version of the story: “’Bout that time a pimp eased up and turned out the lights. That’s when I had old Billy Lyons dead in my sight. When the lights come back on, old Billy’d gone to rest. I pumped nine of my bullets in his MOTHA-FUCKIN’ CHEST!”

MERICANS Songs From Under-appreciated Black Artists 1

4:25 RAPPIN' 4 TAY – “Paid My Dues" Rappin' 4-Tay is selected as more of a stand-in for the vast numbers of overlooked west coast albums, but "Paid My Dues" is an absolute summertime classic. 4-Tay slips in unexpected rhymes ("wasn't no bangin' and gang-affiliated deaths/a brother had to go to school just to get a rep") and, in the process of crafting a "thank God I'm out of jail" record applies more than enough relatable pathos for anyone fond of his simpler years.

return to Georgia, and the couple's excitement to find themselves in God.

4:09 LINVAL THOMPSON – “Just Another Girl" Linval Thompson's classic album I Love Marijuana doesn't have much to do with God's plant save for the title track, but the haze of THC is prominent throughout each track on the record. "Just Another Girl" is the other big-time standout, featuring a beautifully subversive performance from Thompson declaring his love, "but remember, you're just another girl." It's a reggae jam with the sort of dichotomous lyricism usually reserved for Motown and Stax.

3:41 THE GLADIATORS – “Thief in the Night" In the same way 4-Tay was a placeholder for the West, these guys could be the same for the roots movement of late 70s Jamaica. This track in particular seems like it owns plenty of influence on modern groups like Vampire Weekend and the Dodos, built on simple harmonies and a sparse, multi-instrumental rhythm.

2:04 DUDLEY PERKINS – “Coming Home” Dudley Perkins’ spouse, Georgia Anne Muldrow, joins him to deliver a very simple, free form duet over one of Madlib's greatest instrumentals about Dudley's excitement to

5:46 GEORGIA ANNE MULDROW – “Daisies” Georgia Anne Muldrow is a hell of a creative talent, and nowhere is that truth more evident than on "Daisies.” Muldrow delivers a righteously raucous slab of free funk meditating on death, fame and the affect of a great live performance. 4:31 RAS KASS – "Ordo Abchao (Order out of Chaos)" Another overlooked MC, Kass is a guy who bucks nearly all West Coast stereotypes. This track, like many on Soul on Ice, explains the chaotic way America is constructed and the various institutions put in place to make its citizens feel otherwise. "I put together this puzzle, but the pieces don't fit...what the fuck."

3:30 DARONDO – “Didn't I" The 70s soul singer has only recently begun to get widespread credit for his simple rhythms and stunning, sky-high vocals, but it’s still not enough. “Didn’t I” deserves consideration as one of the greatest songs ever recorded.

5:36 LUTHER ALLISON – "All the King's Horses" The self-taught blues guitarist tore down just about every house until his death in 1997. “All the King’s Horses” is the energetic opening track on 1995’s Blue Streak.

8:48 ABBEY LINCOLN – “Down Here Below" One of the Chicago-born great jazz singers, Lincoln composed most of her songs. She also had outstanding roles in a number of films throughout her life, but let’s just focus on one of her many talents. “Down Here Below,” off her 1995 album, A Turtle’s Dream, sees her invoking the spirit of her idol, Billie Holiday.

david amidon james passarelli

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