Here's something about growing up...

I've had so many conversations recently that touch on the idea that meeting new people has somehow become tortuously awkward. I certainly feel this way, which is a somewhat new experience for me, as I've always been pretty extroverted and comfortable in social situations. Now, though, I become anxious at the thought of trying to have a decent, non-awkward conversation with someone I don't know. What on earth to I have to say to someone who doesn't already know me?

I'll be... over here.

Something else I've realized, and I don't really know if this is connected to the first thing I was talking about, (but I wouldn't be surprised if it is) is that somehow at the cusp of "adulthood" we stopped asking each other what we liked, and started asking each other what we do. As kids and teenagers, I feel like given the understanding that we were all in school, I remember trying to connect on our actual interests. We're all already sitting at the lunch table after class, so let's get into who we actually are and talk a bit about what else we have going on in our lives.

Now, though, I can bet that 99% of the time, our opening line to each other is, "So, what do you do?" And I get it. Presumably, our jobs or career pursuits take up the majority of our conscious hours, so it makes sense to start there. And that's not to mention that if you're trying to date someone, finding out what they do is treated like a good shorthand for intellectual (and economic) compatibility.

But ugh, god. I suspect that even if you are lucky enough to be really passionate about your job, it still isn't what you talk about with your friends most of the time. No, you're probably talking about other things you enjoy, common interests you have as friends, things that you've done together, good times you've shared -- most of which were not based on your mutual appreciation of your job.

I feel like part of the reason that we corner ourselves into these really stilted, awkward conversations is because right off the bat, we're asking strangers about, potentially, the most boring thing about them. How could we possibly expect to be interesting and interested in each other if the standard opening line is "What is that thing you do all day that you can't wait to get home from?"

So... what is more awkward? Continuing to have that forced dialogue about our extremely scintillating day jobs, or bucking that social norm and starting off the conversation on a different foot? Well, I think I am going to try the latter for awhile, and I'll get back to you.

According to someone every day, music dies

Hey guys, did you hear? Indie is dead! I don't usually follow HIPSTER RUNOFF, which is basically what it sounds like. It covers hipster music and "culture" (have we defined what hipster culture actually is yet?), usually in tiresome and off-putting ironic lolspeak and hyperbole. If hipsterism is, at least in part, trolling earnestness, i.e. desperately pretending not to care about something you really care about and doing everything in the name of irony, then HRO exists to troll hipsters by being hipster at hipsters. Have I lost you yet? Good. You just, like, don't get it, man. Appropriately, then, the site has heralded the end of indie, and the article was brought to my attention by Yeasayer's facebook page, with the caption "Someone telling it like it is -- how do we make a change?"

Here we are in the content farm era where Pitchfork, Rolling Stone, SPIN, HIPSTER RUNOFF, Brooklyn Vegan, AbsoluteIndieMag.biz, Stereogum, Buzzfeed Music, Shitty McBlogBlogMagazine.com/Music, GVB, FADER, Complex, [other random ass blog/dumb website/magazine] all generally post the same stuff. It’s just a matter of creating brand loyalty via aesthetics and the perception of premium content to lemming ass internet users.

Maybe just make something that people can share on Facebook to controversially discuss amongst their friends.

The demand for ‘innovative’ content has formed a buzz bubble. Chillwave and sponsored-content-wave artists were the main beneficiary of this bubble (post2k.5-2k11), but now, so many bands are getting a taste of alleged buzz ‘before they are ready’/before it even means anything in a legitimate context. The buzz machine is broken because there is no trusted, fail proof mechanism to create pure buzz.

There is truth in this. Bigger emerging 'indie' artists don't stay 'indie' for very long anymore, and there is no discernible delineation between 'mainstream' press like Rolling Stone and 'hipster' press like Pitchfork or HRO. So you get bands that, by and large, should be indie bands, but they're suddenly already famous before they've even really done anything noteworthy. This article namedrops Lana Del Rey, Purity Ring, and Grimes as examples of this.

I’m not sure if I have unreasonable expectations. There just has to be a new way that bands can ‘become bands’ other than ‘getting on the same set of websites that will issue predictable opinions on them.’ Or maybe a website can offer a new way of presenting bands without standardized commentary. Perhaps ‘streaming services’ like Spotify and Pandora have become those to some extent. Those appeal to the people who ‘just want the music’ without needing to know the context.

I guess what all this means, really, that what is happening is an acceleration of the cycle that we already knew existed: sometimes indie bands outgrow indie and enter the mainstream. But HRO's argument, I guess, is that bands used to have to actually prove themselves before that happened, and it was a critical mass of fan-generated buzz that elevated them, not prematurely fawning articles from music publications desperate to discover the next big thing. So indie bands now are less about the music they produce and more about their capacity to generate interesting content for the press that covers them.


ALL THAT SAID. They haven't really convinced me that this is a thing that has broken indie beyond repair. Theorem:

1. Music speaks for itself
2. Taste is subjective

That is, if a band sucks, then we are in agreement: it sucks! And life goes on. Unless it doesn't actually suck that bad, and a lot of people end up liking it, even if the critics don't (which happens all the time. And life goes on.)

And here is kind of the main point. Purely as a consumer of music, I have very little motivation, outside of the impetus to maybe appear 'cool' or 'scene,' to double-check the credible indieness of whatever group I've just become interested in. Like, what does this even mean?:

Maybe the indie experiment only existed to create Grimes, the ultimate internet content producer who makes content directly aimed at internet viewers. She is the best example of ‘not being a band/musician’, but instead a ‘playing by the rules’ content generation machine that resonates with humans wasting time on the internet.

 I'm not sure I even really care to understand. This is fun:

What I want from music is to like the sound, and (ideally, but not always) for it to speak to me personally in some way. The fact that the artist didn't burst out of a cocoon of spiritual enlightenment with this song on her self-actualized lips means nothing to me if it can still manage to evoke something in me. Sometimes artists write songs for themselves, and sometimes they write them for the people who are listening. Am I being manipulated because I like songs by someone who is "not a band/musician" but rather a "content generation machine"? I don't know, and I don't care. I've passed that point in my life where I need to measure the music I like by anyone's coolness barometer other than my own, thank god.

Ultimately, I'm not too concerned about this article. Like I said in the first paragraph, HRO is a meta hipster troll site, and though there has been a noticeable shift in the way that indie buzz is created and distributed, I am pretty sure life will go on, music will be made, and I'll find something to like. I kind of wonder why Yeasayer felt like they needed to signal boost the article, but trying to analyze the intentions of a band as frequently oblique as Yeasayer is a fruitless endeavor.

Book review: The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman

I’m going to go light on plot overview because I want to talk more about the thematic aspects of this one. So here are some things that happen in The Amber Spyglass, and not in any particular order:

Lyra and Will travel to the land of the dead, and they have to separate from their daemons to do so. The description of the emotional consequences of the separation is heart-wrenching.

Dr. Mary Malone, a scientist from Will’s world who studies Dust, travels to a world where she ends up living with creatures that I imagined to have elephant heads on gazelle bodies, except the legs were, as Pullman described, in a diamond conformation. Mary fashions the titular Spyglass in order to see Dust.

Mrs. Coulter is sneaky and underhanded, but in a somewhat redeeming way.

There are tiny people who work as spies for Lord Asriel, and there are all varieties of angels: some vengeful, some immature, some wise, some emotional wrecks.

Epic battles! Epic heartbreak! Death! Wisdom from Iorek Byrinson!

Okay. I’m getting a little jokey because I’m delirious and I don’t love writing reviews, but understand it’s not because I’m joking at expense of The Amber Spyglass. When my Golden Compass review was posted on Pajiba a few days ago, there was actually a bit of discussion and some mixed reviews around this book. Mainly, it seems like people don’t like Mary and her creatures or Pullman’s heavy-handed criticism of the Church, and they feel that Lyra’s ultimate purpose, for which the whole total of everyone and everything is at stake, is kind of weird and hokey. These are valid criticisms that understandably bother some people, but ultimately, I didn’t care. YES, he beat the shit out of that “The Church is evil and the Authority is kind of a dick” drum, and that’s probably easier to swallow if you don’t have religious inclinations, but my take was that the message, moreso than the players, is of import here. It could have been the Church, it could have been a government, or it could have been the Illuminati — the point was that blind faith is not a good thing, especially when the vaulted leaders simplify everything into ‘good’ and ‘evil.’

As for Mary, it’s definitely true that she didn’t need to be there. But that world she was inhabiting sounded so lovely and pastoral that I didn’t mind taking a break every few chapters to check in with her there. I liked the idea that some worlds simply didn’t evolve human beings, because think about it — if Pullman posits that there are worlds upon worlds interlacing with each other, why would all of them have humanoid life? It may seem ridiculous to invent new creatures just for a subplot, but I think it made the whole idea of multiple worlds more interesting.

The fate of Lyra and Will I am reluctant to discuss too much because it could get spoilery. I will say that in my case, the emotional impact of their destiny did really affect me. The impact the two of them were meant to have on Everything did seem a little overwrought, but it didn’t really lessen my connection to them when they had their epiphany.

SO. In conclusion.The Amber Spyglass is a bit more jarring in pacing than the prior two novels. There are more quick cuts between different scenes, and even more characters to keep track of. My eventual impression was that each of these stories did, in the end, enhance the overall experience and make the climax more satisfying (see what I did there?) And yes, there is some heartstring-pulling, so if you’re into that kind of thing you’ll almost certainly be impacted. I finished this about a week ago, and I have to say that I’m still thinking about it daily, processing everything that happened and nursing my residual heartache. I’m kind of a softie, maybe, and I will own up to placing more value on the story than on technicalities.

All of this together means I get to add another book to the ‘Favorites’ list!

Book review: The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman

X-posted at Cannonball Read IV

Everyone knows this one already, right? It’s the first in Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy and a YA fantasy classic. The story follows Lyra Belacqua and her daemon, Pantalaimon, as they travel to the North from a mystical version of Oxford, England. Her party’s goal is to rescue kidnapped children from the hands of the Oblation Board, which uses the children for horrifying metaphysical experiments. Lyra has a separate mission to rescue Lord Asriel, an imprisoned Scholar studying the properties of an elementary particle called Dust, and she is assisted by a clan of witches, a Texan aeronaut, and a giant fighting armored polar bear named Iorek Byrinson. Unbeknownst to Lyca, she has an all-important role to play in a great war allegedly involving heaven and any number of interwoven worlds on Earth.

This is one of my favorite books. The first time I read it, I was much younger, and I thought it was the most magical book. Reading it again now, my appreciation for some of the scientific logic is enhanced, and I benefit from a more mature understanding of the political machinations of the powers in the world.

Lyra herself is a fascinating character.  She’s intelligent but not always thoughtful, though she learns from her mistakes and benefits from growing wisdom. She’s a little brash and impulsive, but endlessly loyal. Her daemon, the external representation of her soul, is also adventurous and sharp, but he also is a bit more ponderous and collected and sometimes saves Lyra from jumping too hastily into poorly-evaluated situations. The other cool thing about Lyra — as a youngish girl reading this novel for the first time — is that she’s a GIRL. She’s the young female protagonist I always wanted: imperfect, but ultimately a well-rounded individual with obvious personality and depth, who is worthy of the tasks presented to her and didn’t always need rescuing.

So, everyone should read this book. It’s classic fantasy, well-written both in plot and characterization.

Mainstream niche

Full disclosure: the following post is probably going to be at least a little bit hipstery and douchey.

I'm not the first person on the internet to write about this, but it is something that I find a little bit amusing. There is this phenomenon where there are certain things that are pretty damn popular and mainstream, that people for some reason treat like they are eccentric or unique tastes. A popular example that comes to mind is Star Wars. I hear people all the time say things like, "Oh, I'm such a geek -- I love Star Wars!" It always makes me think, "Dude, EVERYONE likes Star Wars. It's not exactly offbeat and geeky if EVERYONE likes it." Which isn't to say that people shouldn't like it, because obviously Star Wars is awesome. It's just that I don't necessarily think liking it earns you geek cred. And I also think it's kind of weird in general that people are clamoring all over themselves to earn geek cred. Didn't it used to be that being a geek was kind of a weird thing? Does real geekery even exist anymore if geek = mainstream? Does it even matter? People have been fighting against "labels" for so long, mostly by reclaiming tarnished labels, that maybe in the end the thing that makes the most sense is for people to be mainstream and geeky, popular and nerdy, weird and cool, all at the same time.

Another one is Daft Punk. A performance group used a Daft Punk track from the Tron: Legacy soundtrack on So You Think You Can Dance last week, and I read a few responses online implying how unexpected and awesome it was that a Daft Punk tune appeared on the show. My reaction was like, "First things first -- Daft Punk is an insanely popular group. Pretty much every oxygen-breathing organism on this planet has heard of them. Secondly, you're talking about a song from a very well-known, heavily marketed, rather successful Disney movie as if no one will have any idea what it is." Foolishness, I tell you! And given what I wrote up there, I guess it really doesn't matter whether they're "popular" and "mainstream" or not. I just can't help but laugh a little to myself when people treat these very popular entities as if they have some kind of subcultural cache.

Anyway, so this will be one of those posts that really doesn't have much of a point to it, other than being my less-funny version of a standup routine where they make all of these humorous observations about life and people's little oddities.

Some post-Olympics reflections on figure skating...

I'm going to write another post later strictly on what is probably the most divisive of Olympic sports, figure skating. By "divisive," I mean in this case that there is always a strong and vocal contingent of people who think figure skating pretty much sucks, isn't even a sport, and certainly doesn't belong in the Olympics. In direct opposition to that opinion remains the simple fact that figure skating routinely brings in the most televised viewers out of all of the events, and it is staged in the largest-capacity arena out of all of the events. Like gymnastics, success is measured by a judging panel, which means that even under the supposed control of a very calculated and objective set of scoring rules, winners are crowned via not just an ounce of subjectivity in the judges' preferences. This, of course, creates competitive environments ripe for controversy - and since most people like watching drama unfold, like having strong opinions about said drama, and LOVE finding fault with the judgments by panels of "experts" in competitions small and large, watching figure skating appeals to most people, who can then passionately debate the results later on.

The judging subjectivity, in my opinion, became particularly evident when it came to one infamous American figure skater - Johnny Weir. Despite being a three-time US National Champion and serious competitor at World Championship events, the focus on Weir has always been more about his theatrics and indeed, his sexuality. Though he certainly invites a bit more attention - and perhaps, drama - than your average athlete (see his tiff with animal rights organizations over fur on his costumes and his reality show, "Be Good Johnny Weir") even the NBC Olympic commentators were able to acknowledge at the end of both his short program and his free skate that he certainly delivered in his performances and lived up to the hype. However, he finished in sixth place, behind several skaters (including the bronze medalist) who had more obvious stumbles and falls; meanwhile, to the untrained eye, Weir looked as if he skated perfectly in both programs. Thus, the discussion over Weir's ranking has been rife with reasons why the judges seemed to skew the supposedly objective scoring against him.

This video hilariously sums up what I believe definitely contributed to the overlooking of Weir as a possible medalist and overall serious contender at the 2010 Olympics. (For those who haven't seen "That's Gay" or any other Infomania videos before, you've really got to spend some quality time checking them out. My other favorite series is "Target: Women.")

Much ado over a red belt - when is it appropriate to stand out?

In the past few days, a few different scenarios have flitted across my radar that all present the same conflict: when is it more appropriate or advantageous to just be a part of a group or community, and when is it best to just be an individual?

It's tricky. Many, even most, socialized people do desire on some level to be a part of something greater than themselves, be it a group of friends, a neighborhood community, an activist group, a sports team or artists' collective. However, for the past several decades it's been seen as distinctly uncool to be one of the masses, to be a conformist, and to not assert yourself as an individual. So we operate within these groups, or within these understood rules and boundaries, but we try to stand out at the same time.

I was watching an episode of Bridezillas (don't judge me) where there was a battle going on between the Bridezilla and her sister, because her sister didn't want to take out her nose ring for the wedding photos. The bride-to-be was a loathsome human being, as evidenced by the rest of the episode, but the show was suggesting that she was being unreasonable over this particular point as well. I kind of wonder if she was. Not because I'm personally against nose rings (I'm not and wouldn't ban them from my wedding photos) but because I don't think it's out of line to ask that your wedding party look how you want them for your wedding photos. The sister was shooting back at her like "My nose ring is a part of ME, and MY individual expression, and you should understand because you have a tattoo for the same reason," etc. I get that it's tough to have to sacrifice your personal expression to conform, but I think the sister needed to understand that the bride is the one that's going to have the wedding album, to have her wedding pictures framed in her home, and who is going to generally be seeing a lot more of those photos than anyone else will. It wasn't like the bride was demanding that her sister permanently take out her nose ring; she just didn't want it in the photos. The sister eventually agreed to take out the ring, but then on the day of the wedding she interviewed to say that (I'm paraphrasing here) she was taking advantage of the fact that the Bridezilla was distracted by a bunch of other stuff and hopefully wouldn't notice if she left her nose ring in. As much as by that point I wanted to see the bride suffer (like I said, loathsome human being) I felt bad for her that her sister was basically playing her just so that she could make her small individual statement that would mean so little to her, but so much to the bride, in the long run when the pictures came out.

This me vs. group conflict was a constant one as part of being in a sorority. In my house, it was there on the individual level - "I'm in a sorority, but I'm not like other sorority girls. I'm different." Amusingly, it was on the level of the house too - "Our house isn't like those other houses. We're different." And after awhile I started to wonder to myself, "Does every sorority say that about their house?" Even the top houses - the "typical" blonde, bubbly, you name it houses - why wouldn't they say that about themselves? It might be that they say "We're not like those other houses because we strive to be the best" and we say "We're not like those other houses because we strive to be ourselves" (how alternative! how hip!), but we're still committing ourselves to a group. And that group comes with its inter/nationally-prescribed rules, expectations, and mentality that each chapter chooses either to accept or to work around (but never ignore - they're always there.)

As much as a sorority seems to people who never went Greek as one of the prototypical conformist organizations, catering to Stepford Barbies and no one really else, there were actually lots of opportunities where we were encouraged to be ourselves. Ironically, rush was actually one of those times. The more individually cool, different, and uniquely awesome each of us were, the more it reflected on the house as being collectively cool, different, and uniquely awesome. So even though rush was all about pushing the house as a name brand, we were required to stand out from the rest as individual people and give the girls going through rush a reason to remember us by.

But then there's the conflict. It seems many sororities seem to be having a personality crisis wherein the best thing to do to seem relevant in today's universities is to push individualism; however, they're deeply rooted in traditionalism and, indeed, rituals that separate the Greek system ideal from other clubs that group like-minded people on campuses. This last week, a picture went up that reminded my friends and I that during an event meant to honor one of our sisters, another girl in the house (perhaps unconsciously) tried to stand out, specifically, by not following the all-black dress code imposed on all girls in the house who were not the sister being honored. It may have been that she just thought the red belt would add a nice contrast and dimension to her personal outfit, and it probably would have if it weren't for the fact that everyone else was wearing black and not allowing themselves to "pop" for a reason.

Based on these two anecdotes, it would seem that a good rule of thumb is that it's almost always appropriate to be an individual, but when there is a day or event where specifically someone else is meant to have the spotlight, it's probably prudent to defer to them. That doesn't mean, in the case of the Bridezilla, giving them whatever they want without blinking, but it does mean allowing her to have a visual aesthetic where the eye goes to her. It's okay to sacrifice a few hours of your individualism to allow her wedding pictures to look the way she wants, or to let the honored sister's colorful dress be the standout in the room.

At the end of the day, you're still you.