Fillmore Jive | Duluth Music, Politics and Ramblings

I've just been so busy doing the work thing along with Perfect Sound Radio that I haven't had the time to start the other project.

Please (and I promise, promise, promise this time) check back January 21st for a new look and some new goodies.

It won't be a blog per se, but rather, a literary adventure.

How's that for pretentious?

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James | 12/19/2004 11:18:00 PM

Monday, November 08, 2004

Existence: Trivial? Probably.

For anyone out there still wondering if our lives are pointless (they are) and if it is only us who attach any meaning to them whatsoever (we do), go see I Heart Huckabees.

In other news, this blog is now officially dead.

Check back in a month for a redirect infinitely more interesting.

That is: click this link December 8, 2004.

Goodbye.

PS: Sorry about that GBV thing. The second show was much more fun than the first. I got to shake Bob's hand and Tobin came out to sing "14 Cheerleader Coldfront" with Bob. I was so happy that I went to the record shop next to the venue and dropped $60 I didn't have on LPs. The next day I drove 13 1/2 hours from Cleveland to Duluth. How exciting!

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James | 11/08/2004 09:27:00 AM

Wednesday, November 03, 2004

This Just In

Now it's official.

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James | 11/03/2004 08:39:00 AM

Untitled

So, in all likelyhood we've got four more years and no First Ave. to look forward to now? What a great fucking day.

In light of these recent developments, I think that I'll read Oscar Wilde and brood upon how out of touch I seem to be with the values that most "mainstream" Americans who vote for radical idealouges and this guy--who to quote the San Franciso Chronicle, "during [his 2004 Senate] campaign said he favored the death penalty for doctors who perform abortions and mentioned hearing of 'rampant lesbianism' in southeastern Oklahoma schools"--apparently hold dear to them.

Tommorrow: GBV or Die--Part Deux

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James | 11/03/2004 07:46:00 AM

Monday, October 25, 2004

Here's A Link To

...a pretty funny--not to mention relevant since I was just in Illinois for a day--article in the New Republic. Actually, I talked to a couple of people around DePaul University and no one's really even paying any attention to the Obama/Keyes race it's so far gone.

Read about their debate here.

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James | 10/25/2004 12:18:00 PM

GBV OR Die: Part One

**Editors Note: This is the first of a two or possibly three part entry concerning the dates 10.21.2004-10.24.2004; specifically the set of events surrounding and including James Maryland's attendance at Guided By Voices shows in Columbus and Cleveland, Ohio. Proceed with extreme caution.**

Thursday, 2:30AM, Motel Room, Columbus, OH

Well, one show down and one to go.

Today I left Chicago at around 9:30am. Last night's Do Make Say Think show was, I'll have to admit, only halfway decent. I guess I just experienced them as a less talented Mogwai. Which isn't to say that I didn't like them--quite the contrary in fact--but I just think that the pretty parts weren't pretty enough and the aggressive parts were, I have to admit, pretty damn aggressive. When the band kicked the tunes into overdrive and started riffing heavily, I really dug it, but otherwise it was just ok. Still, I want to check their latest record out (which I would have bought had I not been cash strapped).

A quick comment on the audience: it was a bit odd for me to experience an entire crowd of hipsters. Sure, if you go to the right show at First Ave. you'll find 98% hipsters, but this was different for some reason. Probably because it was Chicago and probably because I just expect all big city types to be so sophisticated, but I guess it was nice to realize that I really am as cool as I think I am. Plus I felt really comfortable at the Empty Bottle--a mix between RT Quinlan's, The Anchor, and a graffiti marked East Hillside basement--where the beers were cheap as hell ($1.75 PBR) and the cocktails sufficiently heavy on booze.

Returning to my hostel room, I encountered two of my dorm-mates passed out, snoring uncomfortably loud. One of the guy's snoring sounded like--no fucking shit--he was blowing snot all over his face. The sound was very...how do you say...juicy? Yeah, I wanted to vomit. Luckily, the three PBR's and one whiskey at the Empty Bottle along with the one beer I drank on the hostel stoop hastened my slumber in spite the loathsome heathens I was forced to bed with.

As I said, I woke up early, ate breakfast at the Bourgeoisie Pig and took off for Columbus. I really hadn't realized what a long fucking drive Chicago to Columbus is and, even though I drove longer yesterday, it really took its toll on my sanity (due to this unfortunate circumstance, I didn't stop in Dayton to see if I could rip a page out of their telephone book with Bob Pollard's name, nor did I stop at Trader Vic's nor did I stop at the Indiana Basketball Hall of Fame).

By the time I finally arrivedin Columbus--one hour later than I'd planned since I forgot that Columbus is on Eastern Time--all I could do was pass out in the double room that the dude at the front desk for some reason gave me.

Now the show: by far the drunkest I have ever seen Bob Pollard play. But first: Toby Sprout ruled. I've always enjoyed Sprout's songs and it baffles me why I've never picked up one of his solo discs. Tomorrow that all changes. Sprout's midwestern psych-pop has gotten so overshadowed by the GBV shadow it's almost criminal, so as penance I'm picking up Carnival Boy immediately. Bob joined the band onstage for "Awful Bliss" which was cool, but the highlight of Sprout's set was "A Good Flying Bird"--quite possibly the best GBV song of all (which, as you know, is saying quite a bit).

In the intermission between Sprout and GBV, Bob came onstage to introduce a small video montage in tribute to GBV's 21-year reign. Fittingly, two guys stood onstage with a huge white sheet because apparently no screen was available to project the film onto. During the ten minute long montage--which interspersed band photos and new age segue pieces a la SNL's Deep Thoughts (think: drop of water creating a calming rippling effect)--Bob narrated while various characters--like "Manager For Life" Pete Jamison--made appearances onstage.

By the time GBV ambled onstage, it was readily apparent to everyone in attendance that Bob was good and juiced well before the show. He was milling around boozing pretty freely, which translated into a carefree, loose first half of the show. However, things quickly devolved into a perfect rendering of every critic of GBV's wet dream. Bob was totally fucked up, spilling beer all over himself while sorta singing and humoring himself with drunken between songs rants that 1) clearly showed that he has bought whole heartedly into the GBV-as-perpetual-underdog myth and 2)underlined his (apparent) distaste for artists as diverse as the Black Keys, Mark Lanegan and Lou Barlow. In between people jumping onstage to sing with him, the band passing a couple bottle of Jameson into the crowd (they ripped off the Turtles!) and the drunken goon in my right ear the whole night (there always has to be that one guy you just wish would pass out), I kind of felt bad for Bob by the end. You could tell that, were he not onstage, he'd probably be curled up in an uncomfortable ball somewhere passed out.

However, against all odds--I actually mentioned to a guy that, after GBV left the stage, there was no way we were getting an encore tonight--Captain Bob and the troops appeared onstage for a three song encore. Unfortunetly, they ended the night with "Echoes Myron", which they'd just played about twenty minutes previous. The selection clearly caught the other band members off guard as Bob called out "This the last one; 'Echoes Myron' one, two, three, four...." and Doug Gillard gave him a "What the fuck?" look.

My impression: I had a great time, but I really hope that Bob got all his homecoming boozing (excessive even for GBV) and self-loathing--oh, did I forget to mention Bob's tirade about feeling like a monkey singing for his supper?--out of the way and that the Cleveland show goes off a bit more smoothly.

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James | 10/25/2004 09:51:00 AM

Wednesday, October 20, 2004

I'm Alive And Blogging From The Bourgeosie Pig...

which is a cool little coffee and sandwich place near my hostel. I made pretty good time, arriving around 8pm, and now need to find out how the hell to get to The Empty Bottle from here. Luckily, my hostel is very close to Depaul University and an El line.

Cheers!

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James | 10/20/2004 07:27:00 PM

I'll Climb Up On The Roof, Weep To Water The Trees

I'm leaving for Chicago in one half of one hour. I praying nothing will go wrong on this trip, but how could it right? It's destiny that I see the most incredible of incredible GBV shows on this mini-trip of mine.

Tonight I should arrive in Chicago around 9pm. Hopefully that gives me enough time to check into my hostel and figure out how to get to The Empty Bottle for Do Make Say Think. I've never seen or even heard--though have heard good things about--these guys, so it should be interesting.

The next morning it's off to Columbus. I still haven't figured out if OSU plays at home this weekend. If they do that should make the stay a bit more exciting.

Friday I'm staying in a hostel in the Cuyahoga Valley, about 22 miles outside of Cleveland. I think Friday I'm just going to bum around the countryside and see what kind of trouble I can get into.

Saturday I'm planning on hitting up the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame before the show. GBV probably won't make it in there ever, but that's fine by me.

Sunday I'll try to make it home in one piece.

Wish me luck.

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James | 10/20/2004 07:46:00 AM

Monday, October 18, 2004

Postmodernism and All That Jazz

Here's a great article from The New Republic that I found very interesting. So much so that I've decided to pick up this book.

DAILY EXPRESS
True Value
by Gregg Easterbrook

Only at TNR Online
Post date: 10.18.04
t's encouraging that so many news organizations offered stories correcting the untrue or half-true factual claims made by both candidates in the presidential debates. My favorite was George W. Bush's claim that John Kerry voted to waive budget caps "two-hundred and seventy-seven times." That works out to more than once a month for Kerry's entire tenure in the Senate, which sounds implausible--unless Bush's figure is for procedural votes, not substantive votes. The president ought to know that not even the ponderous United States Senate calls the roll 277 times on any matter of substance. But Bush thought the line sounded good, so he used it regardless.

Is all that matters in contemporary culture whether a line sounds good? That's the thesis of an important, provocative new book, The Post-Truth Era, by Ralph Keyes. It's Keyes's thesis that in the current ethos, whether something is believed has become more important than whether it's true. Keyes cites psychological research showing that people lie far more often than we'd like to think--constantly telling petty lies they think will never be detected and often telling whoppers, even to friends and loved ones. One study showed that 28 percent of conversations among friends contained conscious lies, and 77 percent of conversations between strangers did so. The lies were on matters of substance, not just "your column is good today" and the many similar prevarications intended to avoid hurt feelings.

So perhaps Americans are no longer outraged when politicians lie because we lie so often in our daily lives. Much everyday lying, Keyes says, concerns constructing attractive pasts for ourselves. "I was the quarterback on my high school football team" or "I have a master's degree" or "I had lots of proposals of marriage" or many other claims along these lines are told both to impress others and to make ourselves feel our own pasts were richer or more accomplished. As Paul Auster has written, "Memory is the place where a thing happens for the second time." But not necessarily accurately. Americans like and even admire personal mythmaking and thus don't seem to object much when political figures lie to puff up their pasts. Lyndon Johnson, for example, constantly told audiences his grandfather died at the Alamo; his grandfather died at home in bed, but an Alamo myth made Texas voters more comfortable with LBJ. Jesse Ventura elaborately claimed to have been a Navy SEAL and to have fought in Vietnam. Keyes contends that neither claim was true--but the mythical Ventura had proven attractive to voters. LBJ and Ventura, it must be noted, came out ahead by presenting personal histories they may have wished were true.

There are many other examples, and The Post-Truth Era collects dozens, making it an invaluable compendium of the decline of respect for verity in modern culture. Today many would rather watch a docudrama, in which viewers have absolutely no idea what is historical and what is imaginary, than read carefully researched history. The made-up version is more interesting! Many would rather listen to Michael Moore or the Swift Boat guys--Moore on the left and the Swifties on the right being current exemplars of post-truth politics--since the sort of arguments in which it doesn't matter what is true are more fun than tedious accuracy. The really disturbing trend, Keyes argues, is that so many figures in contemporary politics, literature, journalism, and other fields get away with so much lying about themselves. The public appears to prefer the post-truth version.

Keyes blames the decline of respect for truth partly on intellectual modernism and postmodernism. Intellectuals, he says, crusaded to convince people that there are no absolute truths, that everything is contingent or based on frames of reference. Calamity descended as people actually decided to believe this. Postmodernism's worst idea has infected popular culture, and now millions of Americans and Europeans believe that nothing is really truth. Even though most people who watch docudramas or read self-serving "fictionalized" memoirs have never heard of Jacques Derrida or Paul Feyerabend, antitruth ideas they and others championed are loose in popular culture, driving discourse downward.

Since Derrida died nine days ago, it's fair to ask whether he should be assigned some blame for the post-truth state of public debate--intellectuals, after all, must accept responsibility if their ideas do harm rather than good. Derrida was a strangely polarizing figure: His followers considered him an oracle while his detractors viewed him with absurdly exaggerated alarm. Some of what Derrida maintained was inarguably true: for example, that writers can never really escape the confines of language structure nor free themselves of the conventional assumptions of society, which impose psychological limits on creativity. That's a powerful critique. Of course, if the critique is inarguably true, then how does it jibe with Derrida's additional contention that nothing can be inarguably true? Off you go into the postmodernism hall of mirrors, and pretty soon you are all the way back to fretting about whether the chair is actually there.

I think Derrida and others in his general camp do share some of the blame for declining public respect for the notion that some things are true and other things are not true. Intellectuals like to curse the benighted public for not grasping academic theories, but the worst aspect of postmodernism (which is now an old enough term that we ought to be saying aprés-modernism, perhaps) is that the public actually did grasp it. While the ideas of, say, metaphysicians currently have no bearing on public culture, the ideas of the deconstructionists and postmodernists are prevalent in movies, pop fiction, and politics. It's a worst-case outcome.

Though assigning Derrida some of the blame for the post-truth era, I would like to vindicate Werner Heisenberg, whose work is widely misunderstood, including by many well-educated people. The Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle holds that measuring certain systems alters the system, such that you can know either the position or the momentum of a subatomic particle but not both. Since Heisenberg began publishing his work in the 1920s, modern and then postmodern authors and thinkers have been insisting that the uncertainty principle is hard scientific evidence that no belief, statement, or even observation can be verified; nothing is definite, all is subject to uncertainty. This is total nonsense--because the uncertainty principle applies only to the quantum level, not the world of human senses.

Heisenberg's research concerned paradoxes of quantum mechanics, and quantum mechanics is the science of the incredibly small: of structures much, much tinier than atoms. For instance a "quantum leap" is an infinitesimally small subatomic transition, not a big jump as the term is commonly misused. At the quantum level, researchers observe many strange effects and can barely guess what they are seeing; for instance what the quark, the smallest observed unit of matter, is made of is anybody's guess. (My favorite theory is that quarks are made of very rapidly spinning nothing.) But quantum effects are never observed above the quantum level--that is, above the level of subatomic particles. Heisenberg's thesis has no relevance to the everyday world.

Here is an interesting paper on a University of California at Santa Barbara physicist who's been trying to determine why quantum effects are never observed in the macro world. Good luck, Professor Cleland, in puzzling this out. What matters is that nothing in Heisenberg's uncertainty principle applies to any object larger than a molecule. We may not be able to determine precisely where an electron is--but we know exactly where a rock, desk, or chair is. Uncertainty at the quantum level washes out when averaged across the quadrillions of quantum-sized particles in a baseball, whose position may then be precisely known. There is no uncertainty about most physics of the macro world, and no uncertainty about how we experience that world.

Theatergoers were done a great disservice by the recent hit play Copenhagen, which depicted a 1941 meeting in Denmark between Heisenberg and his teacher Niels Bohr and went on and on and on and on and on about how the uncertainty principle tells us that nothing is ever known or certain. I winced throughout this play regarding its distortions of science and wondered whether author Michael Frayn was a naïf with no grasp of physics or was deliberately misrepresenting physics in order to make his work trendy aprés-modernism. Critics who praised Copenhagen seemed to lack a grasp of physics too; I saw no review that noted the uncertainty principle has no application whatsoever to human experience. Audiences wanted, perhaps, to believe that science has proven there cannot be truth. I state, as an absolute truth, that this has not been proven and will never be proven. And I commend to readers The Post-Truth Era as an antidote.

Gregg Easterbrook is a senior editor at TNR and a visiting fellow at the Brookings Institution.

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James | 10/18/2004 01:48:00 PM