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I Wanna Be Free

Here’s David Brothers writing about the Internet’s perception of him as “a negative guy”:

I went all in with comics journo and I realized a while back that that was a mistake. I got into news, covering conventions, interviews, and all this other smokescreen stuff when all I really wanted to do is have a place to talk about these stupid, amazing comics. I’m trying to correct my course now, I’ve been trying to correct my course, because I realize that doing all of that brought me dangerously close to burning out, and then I burned out anyway.

I understand why people like to see hit pieces over gushing. There’s a thrill in seeing something get taken apart, and it turns out that the same mind that makes me good at gushing also makes me pretty good at hit pieces. But I hate the fact that this short attention span-having internet looks at me like I’m that dude when I’ve worked so hard to not be seen as that guy. I hate that guy. But it is what it is, and here we are.

I have a personal troll over at Newsarama. Seriously; someone created a comment account called “The Anti-Graemator” (or something really similar; I can’t be bothered to check, but I’m pretty sure that’s right) that exists purely to comment after articles about how I suck. It was a weird discovery, that one, and even now I can’t quite believe someone was that upset/bored/a combination of the two to actually do it, but it’s also good in a way because it’s a reminder that there will always, always be people on the Internet who don’t care what you write because they know what they think of you and that’s the narrative they keep in their heads. Content is less important than perception, for a lot of people, even people who should know better. I don’t know if it’s really the “short attention span-having Internet,” or whether it’s the selfishness and self-centeredness of the audience as a whole these days, but still. It’s amusing, depressing and exhausting, all at once. I’m not sure how to react to it, sometimes, and so I find myself ignoring it and keeping on keeping on. One day, I think, maybe they’ll see something that so obviously contradicts their construction of “who I am” that they’ll start to look past the prejudice.

Ah, misplaced optimism. What would I do without you?

(David is, it’s worth pointing out, not a “negative guy” at all; another short-sightedness of the mass audience is to confuse “This is bad, I have problems with it and here’s why” with “I hate that thing you like, I hate everything.” But you knew that already, right?)

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366 Songs 167: Teardrop


Yes, it’s the theme song to House, in its instrumental form, with the lovely, fragile music falling and climbing as piano chords interfere, crashing heavily and providing some structure to the whole thing. But without the vocals from Liz Frazer, this is just a pretty tune that hints at foreboding; what makes “Teardrop” so wonderful are the words, for me.

“Love/Love is a verb/Love is a doing word,” she sings at the start, the most direct lyrics in a song full of hint and tease. We can guess from the lyric and delivery that “It’s tumbling down” isn’t something good, sure, but what exactly does “Teardrop on the fire/Of a confession/Fearless on my breath” mean, exactly? The same with “Water is my eye/Most faithful mirror.” It’s all emotional echolalia, in a way; words coming out, repeated, and they all mean something but that meaning isn’t clear. That adds to the weight of the song, though; the idea of tragedy that you not only can’t prevent (“It’s tumbling down!”), but can’t even grasp fully.

That most people now – myself included – can’t hear the start of the song without thinking of House is a shame. It deserves better.

Here’s a really nice cover version, to send you on your way, from Jose Gonzalez:

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366 Songs 166: Bug Powder Dust

As far as I’m concerned, this remains one of the greatest rap tracks ever recorded: Justin Warfield’s hilarious, pop-culture-reference filled rap (“Top of the Pops, like the Lulu show/I take a walk on Abbey Road/With my shoes off, so”) in a track with such an insanely unforgiving bass sample (from this free jazz song, which makes me think of little as much as the jingles that played between sketches on Sesame Street), topped with the William S. Burroughs inspired title? Seriously, how anyone could resist, I have no idea.

After this song, both Warfield and Bomb The Bass kind of disappeared, as if their jobs were done. The BTB album that followed this track, Clear, was a great one with all manner of guests (including novelist Will Self) and a sound that sounded like dirtier trip-hop, but the next album didn’t appear for another thirteen years, and with a significantly different sound. Warfield, too, put out an album that followed this (with early remixed by David Holmes, of all people) before disappearing from view and reappearing as the lead singer of She Wants Revenge, sounding like this:

Let’s just say that “Bug Powder Dust” may have broken everyone involved, shall we?

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366 Songs 165: BOB (Bombs Over Baghdad)

This was my first exposure to Outkast; I’m pretty sure I heard it somewhere on Radio 1, and was entirely blown away by it; soon after, “Miss Jackson” came out and I was hilariously put off by it. Even now, it seems depressingly weak after this, and too much of a sop towards mainstream tastes and singalong styles. Quite where my prejudices come from, I have no idea.

(I seem to remember, but could be wrong, that this song was banned from the BBC following the Iraq war in 2002; it’s possible I’m getting that mixed up with the earlier blanket ban on anything by the band Bomb The Bass during the 1990s Iraq War, for similar “Don’t say bomb!” reasons.)

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366 Songs 164: Idlewild Blue

Outkast’s Idlewild album, ostensibly the soundtrack to their movie of the same name, was depressingly uneven and a disappointment considering the hidden gem that the movie itself is. But Andre 3000’s various contributions to the endeavor, rooting further into a particularly American musical tradition that his earlier massive “Hey Ya!”, were well worth paying attention to. “Y’all know about the blues, don’tcha?” he asks at one point in “Idlewild Blue,” and it’s kind of amazing to think that this song’s very structured, syncopated version of the traditional blues riffs (both musical – listen to that guitar – and lyrical, with the whole “I live a life/But it just ain’t mine” posturing) might actually be their introduction to the blues. If so, it’s an easy entry point; the doo-woppy backing vocals and upbeat detournment of the downbeat genre sweeten what the blues have to offer, but still give enough of a taste of what the blues are to tease the ears of those who get it. After hearing this, there’s a lot of temptation to wish for a straight-up blues song from Andre, just to hear what he’d bring to it.

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366 Songs 163: Do Ya Thing

As part of my dream last night, I dreamt that there was another new Gorillaz song to accompany this one – a truly wonderful, can’t-keep-yourself-still-when-you-listen, collaboration between Damon Albarn, LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy and Andre 3000, whose contribution is just blindingly awesome (“New word: onomatopoeia” indeed, before he goes on to rap using onomatopeic verses. Seriously, holy crap), and something that might be the final Gorillaz release ever, given the apparent falling out between Albarn and partner Jamie Hewlett. If it is, it’s a great way to go out, all blips and blops and something that shouldn’t work at all, but does, gloriously… Kind of like the project in general, really.

(The new song in my dream sounded great, although I can’t remember what it sounded like now, of course.)

Bonus: The full 13 minute version of “Do Ya Thing,” which has never been officially released but is worth it just for Andre’s freeform craziness.

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“But Comic Book Fans Need To Feel Perpetually Beleaguered”

But comic book fans need to feel perpetually beleaguered and disenfranchised, marginalized by phantom elites who want to confiscate their hard-won pleasures. And this resentment — which I have a feeling I’m provoking more of here — finds its way into the stories themselves, expressed either as glowering self-pity or bullying machismo. There are exceptions: Mark Ruffalo’s soulful Hulk (though not Eric Bana’s or Edward Norton’s); most of the X-Men. But even that crew of mutant misfits turned protectors of humanity exists in a circumscribed imaginative space.

That’s from the New York Times’ discussion between movie critics A. O. Scott and Manohla Dargis about superhero movies and comic book culture. There’s lots of sweeping statements in there, but this one stuck with me as being close to the truth.

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The Management Apologizes

The fates laugh at my promise to have “stuff tomorrow, really,” from yesterday. Today was crazy busy, and I managed to be 30 minutes late for both meet-ups with friends I had. Normal service will apparently be resumed soonish, I can only hope.

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I Know What You’re Thinking*

You’re thinking “Is this the first day Graeme has missed a 366 Songs entry in awhile? He was doing so well!” To which I, sadly, have to reply “Yes, it is, and yes, I was.” What can I say? Time was not on my side today, despite what Mick Jagger might have you believe; it’s the kind of day when I just want to sit down and let my brain unfurl for a few hours. Stuff tomorrow, really.

(* If you’re Dylan Meconis, you’re possibly also thinking “If you don’t come into Periscope tomorrow, I will hunt you down and kill you with my eyes.” I will! Honest!)

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Director’s Cut Material!

And here’s the paragraph I took out of this week’s Time piece before I even submitted it:

It’s not as if Marvel hasn’t worked hard to keep Spider-Man’s popularity up; every couple of years, a storyline will ensure enough outrage to get the hardcore fan base complaining and driving attention to the series. Last year, the publisher gained mainstream attention for the character by killing Peter Parker (Don’t worry, he’s fine; it was the Peter Parker of another world), just three years after doing the same by having the Devil undo his marriage, which itself came two years after he unmasked and revealed his identity to the world (This year, things are relatively quiet aside from accusations of torture porn). Despite everything, however, the character seems to have settled into a permanent lag behind Marvel’s bigger franchises for some unknown reason. Unknown, that is… until you remember the ol’ Parker Luck.

In the end, it didn’t really fit into the piece, and I suspected that certain Marvel bodies would’ve taken offense at it, giving me hassle that I didn’t really need or want. But, you know, I’d written it so here it is.