Probably this is a question primarily for readers “of a certain age,” but bear with me, any young ‘uns in the audience: Did you ever re-buy an album as an adult based on a fond memory of listening to it a “youth” (this should be pronounced yoot), only to discover that—well, it really sucks? In [...]
I opined yesterday that “Pop,” as a term of opprobrium, has come to signify an ease of access coupled with an ease of consumption. Ease of consumption: this it would be foolish to deny. But passive consumption, mindless consumption (which, in Is Rock Dead? I connected to the 50s B-movie motif of the zombie)—that’s only [...]
Faithful readers of fake chinese rubber plant will know by now that while the blog is generally about contemporary culture—its delights and discontents—I find myself coming back time and again to the fertile intersection of contemporary music and everyday life. It’s my Crossroads (though I haven’t sold my soul to the devil; nor can I [...]
So yesterday’s post was, in a sense, about guilty non-pleasures: those bands or artists in whom we’re supposed to delight, but just can’t. The “guilty” part is just optional, of course: I do feel guilty for not liking Wilco and Fugazi more than I do, but not a bit guilty about loathing Metallica and the [...]
Like many American households, mine was overrun with the Academy Awards yesterday, for much of the afternoon and evening. Our local ABC-TV affiliate aired a program, On the Red Carpet—a sort of pre-game show for the Oscars—that started in mid-afternoon, I think. My attention was in-and-out: I had papers to grade, things to attend to, [...]