Category Archives: Music

against appropriation.

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One would categorize this situation as a thorny issue:

Though he describes himself as a good friend of hers, the fashion and art photographer David LaChapelle has decided to settle his differences with the pop star Rihanna in a place where friends don’t usually end up: court. Mr. LaChapelle, known for his candy-colored, sexually over-the-top images, claims in a suit filed Monday in federal court in Manhattan that Rihanna helped herself to too many of the images in the recently released video for her sexually over-the-top song “S & M.”

The suit, which asks for at least $1 million in damages, argues that the video is “directly derived from and substantially similar to” photographs he has created and published that show, among other things, a dominatrix walking a chained man on a leash, a woman in latex headgear and another woman (Lady Gaga, to be precise) wearing only screaming headlines. In all, the suit claims, eight of Mr. LaChapelle’s images were used to create scenes in the video, which the suit calls a “willful, wanton and deliberate” infringement of his copyright protections.

It reminded me of Junot Diaz’s comments to a packed audience at the Union Square Barnes and Noble upon the release of his Pulitzer Prize winning novel back in 2007, where a young writer asked about Diaz’s influence or inspiration. Diaz instructed the writer to ‘steal that shit.’ We all laughed hard at that. Diaz seemed to be speaking specifically about mimicing style as a tool for one’s own creative process. Many reviewers compared Diaz to the late David Foster Wallace (well more like Patrick Choimoseau’s Texaco than Infinite Jest, but that’s just splitting literati hairs. Maybe…) And that comparison was assigned to Diaz because of his copious usage of footnotes (like Wallace, but also like Choimoseau, but also like Borges) as part of the novel’s narrative structure. Yet, we have to explore the knotty relationship between appropriation without attribution. Think back to the recently settled case of Shepard Fairey versus the Associate Press, where an image inspired art (and informed a movement) without proper attribution.

Looking at LaChapelle’s images and stills from the ‘S&M‘ video, the similarities are undeniable. Rihanna, who has worked with LaChapelle before, begs the obvious question: why did she not simply work with the director again? Rihanna’s collaborator, director Melina Matsoukas, acknowledges that she is influenced of the work other artists, yet neglects to mention them by name. This is the pair’s second offense. Certainly, we artists look to other artists and mediums from which to draw inspiration, inform and develop our own work, but at what point does it become all out thievery?

On the other side of copying issue lies Kanye West and Hype Williams. As others have charged that the pair has committed the offense of copying another artist, the filmaker Gaspar Noé, I’m not sure that’s entirely fair. Noé is obviously influenced by the Jean-Luc Godard, who has had decades long influences on some of our most celebrated filmmakers, photographers, artist that include giants like Robert Altman, Francis Ford Coppola, Mike Nichols, established newbies Wes Anderson, Sofia Coppola, Quentin Tarantino, (I’d argue the Joel and Ethan Cohen too) and this guy.  Obviously, me too (photography and writing). And I don’t love the West/Williams video, but I immediately recognize the nod to Godard (go back and look at Runaway, too, Godard’s influence is all up in that). Godard was more than likely influenced as we all are by the Lumiere Brothers. Why is it all out copying for West and Williams and not for Noé? Theft is a curious charge to me.

For LaChapelle, I feel RiRi and Matsoukas can’t argue influence when many of the images are nearly identical staging of the photographs. As for McGinley, the influence is evident for ‘Only Girl in The World‘, the staging is suspiciously familiar.  How’s that saying go: There’s nothing new under the sun. Right?

Right…

I’m not sure what the answer is. As a photographer and writer, I certainly draw influences from multiple mediums. My ridiculous paparrazo project is influenced by Fellini, Godard, hip hop, Nan Goldin, Basquiat, and my contemporaries. My soundtrack in my head when I shoot is Uproot Andy’s El Botellon’s remix (Seriously).  I’m certainly influenced by an artist’s aesthetic judgments, but ultimately, I need to determine my own vision for what I wish to show/say. West/Williams video may pay homage to a film director, utilizing a style that everyone and their mother has mimicked for decades, but I can’t say that it’s artistic theft. Derivative and trite is one thing, but copying is a whole ‘nother thesis ;)

All Of The Lights.

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YouTube – Kanye West – All Of The Lights ft. Rihanna, Kid Cudi.

(via @blackingitup)

Hmmm….Yeezy, I don’t know about this one.

Casually, I refer to this song as ‘JOY on a sticke‘ (think: Speedy Gonzales when you say ‘sticke’) but overall, the video feels derivative. And I’m a fan of retro typeface (but too soon after Cee-Lo’s F@$# You) and quick cut edits.  I certainly appreciate the New Wave influenced introduction (see: Godard, Fellini) but the video in its entirety reads uneven and rushed.  The color bursts are certainly evocative, even enjoyable, yet I don’t think it does anything to enhance the experience of the song. Honestly, Runaway in its long form did the work for All of The Lights.

Nonetheless, if you see a grown ass black woman dancing around like a fraggle somewhere on the streets of Brooklyn (quite possibly Fort Greene), it’s probably me. And I’m probably listening to All of the Lights. Don’t judge me. Admit it, you totally love it.

you’re welcome.

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Social networking may be killing New York City, but I don’t care. I don’t care about any of that. Especially, when my friends on the facebooks share videos of awesome emerging musicians/bands/groups/vocalists.

Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you the formidable roots and bluegrass wonderment Valerie June and the afrobeat, hip hop stylings of Bajah and the Dry Eyed Crew.



what narcissism means to me… a mixtape.

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1.
Clip from taped interview with George W. Bush for Matt Lauer Reports:

MATT LAUER:
Well, what he said, “George Bush doesn’t care about black people.”

PRESIDENT GEORGE W. BUSH:
That’s – “he’s a racist.” And I didn’t appreciate it then. I don’t appreciate it now. It’s one thing to say, “I don’t appreciate the way he’s handled his business.” It’s another thing to say, “This man’s a racist.” I resent it, it’s not true, and it was one of the most disgusting moments in my Presidency.

MATT LAUER:
This from the book. “Five years later I can barely write those words without feeling disgust.” You go on. “I faced a lot of criticism as President. I didn’t like hearing people claim that I lied about Iraq’s weapons of mass destruction or cut taxes to benefit the rich. But the suggestion that I was racist because of the response to Katrina represented an all time low.”

PRESIDENT GEORGE W. BUSH:
Yeah. I still feel that way as you read those words. I felt ‘em when I heard ‘em, felt ‘em when I wrote ‘em and I felt ‘em when I’m listening to ‘em.

MATT LAUER:
You say you told Laura at the time it was the worst moment of your Presidency?

PRESIDENT GEORGE W. BUSH:
Yes. My record was strong I felt when it came to race relations and giving people a chance. And– it was a disgusting moment.

MATT LAUER:
I wonder if some people are going to read that, now that you’ve written it, and they might give you some heat for that. And the reason is this–

PRESIDENT GEORGE W. BUSH:
Don’t care.

MATT LAUER:
Well, here’s the reason. You’re not saying that the worst moment in your Presidency was watching the misery in Louisiana. You’re saying it was when someone insulted you because of that.

PRESIDENT GEORGE W. BUSH:
No – that– and I also make it clear that the misery in Louisiana affected me deeply as well. There’s a lot of tough moments in the book. And it was a disgusting moment, pure and simple.

(emphasis is mine.)

2.
Later, Kanye West on 97.9FM Houston:

I definitely can understand the way he feels, to be accused of being a racist in any way, because the same thing happened to me, you know, I got accused of being a racist. For both situations, it was basically a lack of compassion that America saw in that situation.

With him, it was a lack of compassion of him not rushing, him not taking the time to rush down to New Orleans.For me, it was a lack of compassion of cutting someone off in their moment. But nonetheless, I think we’re all quick to pull a race card in America. And now I’m more open, and the poetic justice that I feel, to have went through the same thing that he went [through]-and now I really more connect with him on just a humanitarian level.”

(emphasis, again, is also mine.)

h/t Gawker.

johnny come lately.

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Don’t judge me.  But I finally found the time to watch this:

Y’all didn’t tell me. Well, maybe you did. Was I paying attention? Perhaps not. What you should have done was anchor my ass to a chair and put the screen directly in front of me.

Understand, I got books to read, lesson plans to write,  photos to edit, essays to write, an online journal to edit, all of Season 4 of Mad Men to catch up on… but still, this may have been a priority bit to watch. But that shit is dope. I dig the song, but you know, this girl loves aesthetics and narrative. Like, how we’ve taken key pieces of style (fashion, music) from the last century during uncertain and tumultuous times (WWII and 60s) and mirror them now. We’re searching for a cultural expression for these times… and it’s a pastiche, collage with our post, post modern technology and sensibilities. You may not feel me on this yet. I’ll come back and unpack it for you. I promise.

on independence.

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While some grill meats, unite with families, picnic with friends and drink beer, and others question identity, question what is American, blindly quote words of our founding fathers and reflect on wise yet provocative and controversial words from one of our greatest thinkers of our shared history, I turn to one of the greatest collaborations in American history. May I present the divine Sarah Vaughn and the delightful George Gershwin.

Declare Independence.

the art of storytelling part 1.

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Confession: I love Auditorium.

Here’s the thing: I’m not really a hip-hop head. I don’t have a vast encyclopedia of knowledge of beats, rhymes and tracks of everything produce over the past 30 years. I know certain songs from memory because the beat was so sick it moved me, or the lyricism was so ill I couldn’t possibly ignore it. So I know some rhymes that are part of the basic lexicon of hip hop (Paid In Full, Rappers Delight, The Message, The Show, Children’s Story) as well as some recent classics from MCs like Black Thought, Eminem, Jay-Z, Biggie… I like what I like and I listen to it religiously.

For instance, I understood the importance of learning every single word to Lose Yourself and Lost Ones.  And I was so far from being a teenager but when the shit’s hot, you got act like you know, right?  But I’m really a girl from the Midwest and we love beats.  I like to believe this is a universal known about our creed. If the beat isn’t dope, I’m not really paying attention to it. Seduce my ear with a pulsing bass line that I can feel in my chest, and you got me. Lyricism is icing on the fucking cake. On the real, why I’ve listened to Mos Def’s Auditorium from his album, The Ecstactic, an embarrassing number of times simply stem from nostalgia for brilliant lyricism juxtaposed against melodic tones and break beats.

I geeked out about this with a couple of friends after brunch a while ago (What up Mara and Elon?) Have you heard Slick Rick’s (aka The Ruler) rhyme on this track (2:35)? Seriously, check it: Continue reading →

the playlist.

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I write to music. In fact, I can’t write without it. It helps me immerse myself in a scene or setting. To pretend that there isn’t a soundtrack to our lives is just disingenuous. And while I’m editing and organizing the launch of a new project, my iTunes playlist lands on an oldie but goodie from the boomer generation.


Procol Harum’s greatest known work is pretty literary as far as a rock song goes. Some speculation (confirmed?) of sampling; the organ in the song’s opening bares an astonishing similarity to Johannes Sebastian Bach’s Air on the G String. Others trying to discern meaning from its rather obtuse lyrics — ‘the miller’s tale’ (a wink to Chaucer’s Canterberry Tales), ‘playing cards’ (a tarot deck), ’16 vestal virgins’ (a reference to the feminine divine, priestess to Vesta, Goddess of the Hearth)— and in their search, yield not a single satisfying explanation for me. Such a song that inspires curiosity around its creation and as a result develops its own mythology and makes this song– timeless. The nod to Bach, the progenitor of the diabolus en musica, which is also known as the diminished fifth — the tritone–  and minor note is the heart of the song.  It is chthonic,  primordial; it’s a sound that lives in the back of the throat, known to all as heartbreak and mourning, Lorca would call it ‘duende’, Cape Verdian’s would call ‘saudade’, perhaps the French would call it ‘le petit mort’. It’s what brings me back to listen each time. Much like a good story or poem. A small turn to make the whole work vibrate with intensity, emotion and heart.

And this song is a poem:

We skipped the light fandango
turned cartwheels ‘cross the floor
I was feeling kinda seasick
but the crowd called out for more
The room was humming harder
as the ceiling flew away
When we called out for another drink
the waiter brought a tray

I can accept its narrative and its seemingly disconnected imagery to construct a narrative of my own. A soldier or a sailor, a bar, a chance meeting, a love found and then a love lost. There’s a romance to it.

This obscure video offers no explanation for the meaning of this song (but it must of inspired Coldplay). But it does evoke something. Nostalgia? A memory? Loved but lost? I don’t know. I do know I love the super 8 video, the grainy washed out feel of the film, the paisley shirt, the pure karaoke aesthetic of it all.