Thoughts before the LOST finale.

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The LOST series finale will air tonight, Sunday, May 23, from 9pm-11:30pm PST.

I wasn’t a fan of LOST in the beginning. Not because I didn’t like it, but because I had never seen an episode, or known anything about it. Before I started watching, I thought it was a fictionalized “Survivor” -style show. I grew up in a household without television, and because streaming on the internet was in its infancy, there was never any TV show that I could engage with on a regular basis.

That changed one day during my sophomore year of high school. I was hanging out with one of my friends, and he put on an episode of LOST: season two’s “The 23rd Psalm.” I had no idea what the island storyline was about, but Yemi and Eko’s story was so compelling that I was spellbound. It is still one of my favorite episodes, and I’m glad that it was the first that I watched.

Over the summer between my sophomore and junior years, I caught up on the first two seasons. LOST hit all my buttons: world building, old and complicated mythology, elements of spirituality and the supernatural, non-linear storytelling, as well as good acting and dialogue. I was able to engage with the show in a way that I never had before. Before LOST, I had never considered the possibility that watching television could be an intellectual exercise as well as entertainment. I had never before had the experience of staying up late with other people, talking about what just happened, piecing together hidden clues, speculating about the next episode, and trying to get the answer before it’s given to you.

LOST also represents a viewing experience that will probably be unique in my life. By the time I got interested in television, streaming sites such as Hulu, and the network on-demand sites were available. LOST is the only show that I watch on a physical television when it airs. Everything can wait (at the least) until it’s available online. Although it seems like a thing of the past, I think that experience is critical to my appreciation of LOST. Every gobbet of information seems packed with significance, and the euphoria of a good episode cannot be matched by anything else.

I’m going to have fun watching tonight’s episode, whatever happens. There’s nothing they could do that would kill the series for me.

Classical Writers and Pop Music

Matthew Eilar1 Comment

There’s a big idea that I wanted to bring up, but didn’t in yesterday’s review of The ArchAndroid; the idea of complexity in pop music. I’m not one to believe in musical “progress” per se, but the artist that I respect and value most are those that experimented and tried to create a new sound of music for their time.

One of the things that I find fascinating, especially now that I am in college, is the way that classical academics and composers relate to pop music. I get quite a range of views among my professors: my choral director and history professor grew up listening to classical music, and thus has never had any personal exploration of pop music (I actually think that her’s is the last generation that can get away with that). My organ professor lectures me about not using the terms “pop” and “classical.” I always nod politely, responding in my head that if you don’t see “pop” as a derogatory term, there’s no stigma associated with using it. My academic adviser listens much like I do; applying the same kind of thinking and reflection to music regardless of the tradition. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he is the youngest professor on the faculty.

Classical academics occasionally become “pop music tipsy;” they get exposed to an amazing piece of pop music, and become confused about how to respond to it. What they write, or how they talk about the music, is characterized by a few symptoms: they vastly overstate the importance of the artist under discussion; they don’t understand and disrespect the tradition that came before “their” artist; hyperbole about the death of other traditions; solemn predictions that this is the way pop music will be in the future. They’re almost always wrong.

The worst part is that they’re kind of right, too. These mushy declarations come from a profound cognitive dissonance. Many of these writers and composers have been trained and taught that pop music is empty and unsophisticated. When confronted with pop music that is sophisticated, is experimental, is vital, their reaction is to claim that pop music has changed. What they should understand is that they have changed.

What does this have to do with Janelle Monáe? When the “Bad Romance” video first hit, Alex Ross of The New Yorker wrote a little thing about the cell ringtone that opens the video. It’s a quotation from a Bach fugue that uses all 12 tones in the Western octave. He grew very excited about this and used it to speculate about the future of pop music, a more chromatic future.

I think the ArchAndroid makes a good case for that future. The album sounds strongly influenced by Stevie Wonder, and his music has always been more harmonically complex (probably as a function of jazz) than others in his style. I don’t think that chromaticism is a virtue in itself, but I’m certain that you’re more likely to find it in the music of Janelle Monáe than Lady GaGa.

Janelle Monáe – The ArchAndroid

Matthew Eilar1 Comment

  • Janelle Monáe The ArchAndroid Atlantic Records, May 18 2010.
  • This album is for: People looking for big, symphonic pop that assimilates 60 years of pop music into its sound. Fans of OutKast’s and Danger Mouse’s contemporary-through-heterogeneous-style technique. People who listened to The Adventures of Bobby Ray and wanted something more daring.
  • This album is not for: Those with a heart of stone. Old men who kick dogs.
  • Key tracks: Every single one.

I know precious little about Janelle Monáe. In fact, the first thing I ever heard that she was a part of was her guest spot on B.o.B’s new album, “Kids.” Turs out that I didn’t need to know much about her, the first track on her debut album kicked down the door to my mind. Her music says everything you need to know.

The music speaks for itself because it’s unbelievably fucking good. It helps that on this album, Monáe sounds like the most competent singer on the face of the planet. The vocal styles that she pulls on the album touch on a lot of musical traditions: ’50’s style crooner, Joan Baez-like soulful folk, some rapping, smooth R&B, and on “Come Alive” a truly chilling, balls out performance that recalls Screaming Jay Hawkins.

That miscegenation dominates the record. It rings true to me as a listener, because we live in an age where almost every record that’s ever been recorded is available, in some form, on the internet. We’re no longer victims of an age where music expires when a record goes out of print. This music could only be made now. It’s an album that rejects all style labels. Rhapsody lists Monáe as “Neo-Soul” and that’s true, but it only tells part of the story. She’s making music that is all her own, but incorporates almost the entire history of pop music into her sound.

I should also make clear that she’s not doing this through sampling. Words like these have been written about Girl Talk, for example, but his use of pop music is much cruder than what’s going on in this record. She’s not imitating style, but suggesting it. I was going to write about the different styles that I heard in the record, but they are so numerous, and so smart, that I’m going to go track-by-track through the album and write what I hear:

Suite II Overture: These instrumental overtures don’t necessarily represent the sound of the record, but this first one in particular shows the scope and drama that the album is dealing with. One of the thing that I was impressed by throughout the album is the sensitivity to musical drama. Every track, and even the placement of tracks within the album, contains a beautifully structured dramatic arc. It’s also a very smart instrumental track. Often, on albums of all styles, there might be an “orchestral” track that inevitably bores me, because it’s not a particularly interesting use of the instruments or texture. That’s not true of this album.

Dance or Die: The album really gets cooking with this track, which has an upbeat, funky beat, and features Monáe semi-rapping. Also features Saul Williams.

Faster: This song continues the refrain and beat from Dance or Die, but breaks into a pop song that reminds me a little bit of ’50s and ’60’s girl-group pop. As with many of the songs on this album, I’m as impressed by what she didn’t do as with what she did do. You can hear the outline of a more conventional song in this track, but the production throws everything into it. It’s almost like Beyonce’s neo-Motown sound in “Single Ladies,” but more badass, more funky, and with more energy.

Locked Inside: This track sounds like the music that Stevie Wonder would be making if he was alive and recording today (I know he is, but let’s pretend he isn’t). It features a very Stevie vocal line and chord progression. Another nice touch is the Santana-like guitar solo that also reminds me of Stevie’s guitar solo on “Contusion” off of Songs in the Key of Life.

Sir Greendown: There’s some sly musical borrowing here: the drum and guitar pattern are stolen and slowed down from “Be My Baby.”

Cold War: This is a high-octane song that shows the influence of OutKast. It hits that same sweet spot as “Hey Ya!” or “Bombs Over Baghdad,” manic, joyous, apocalyptic pop music. Also, the guitar outtro could be interpreted as a reference to Green Day’s “Boulevard of Broken Dreams.” Supreme vocal chops on display.

Tightrope: This funky number channels James Brown all the way. The “tightrope” refrain is a classic funk construction, and it’s got some nice brass solos.

Neon Gumbo: Wordless transition track.

Oh, Maker: When this track started, it knocked me back on my ass. I thought I had a handle on the musical styles that Monáe was working with, but this track begins with a folky guitar section, and Monáe singing like Joan Baez. This song is structured as a dialogue between that husky folk and a soaring R&B ballad.

Come Alive: This song is rooted in the creepy fun of Psychobilly, recalling acts like Screaming Jay Hawkins, Oingo Boingo, and Reverend Horton Heat. Monáe’s pipes are off the charts. Ridiculously good.

Mushrooms & Roses: This is the track where Monáe puts in her interpretation of psychedelic rock. It opens with a sweet string intro (btw, I’m also grateful that she used real musicians. The album credits can be seen on Wikipedia, and there were a fuckton of people who worked on this album). She sings with a vocal processing that recalls “Crimson and Clover.” This track is interesting because it’s the first so far that is pretty much a rock song. There’s even a Lynyrd Skynyrd sound alike guitar solo.

Suite III Overture: This instrumental continues a theme developed in “Mushrooms & Roses.” I really dig the musical coherence of the album. Themes recur, instruments that were prominent on one track pop up in others. This is an album that’s meant to be listened to as an album.

Neon Valley Street: A nice R&B song with vaguely Sinatraesque orchestral support.

Make the Bus: And now Monáe does Prince. Actually, now that I think about it, it’s kind of a weird hybrid between Prince and David Bowie.

Wondaland: This track reminds me a lot of Gorillaz, specifically the bubblegum funk on tracks like “19-2000” and many on Plastic Beach. It also ends with a faux-churchy Hallelujah.

57821: This track brings back the quiet modal folk of Simon and Garfunkel.

Say You’ll Go: This is another song that reminds me of Stevie Wonder. The ending samples and incorporates Debussy’s “Claire de Lune.”

BaBopBye Ya: This song is great, and also perfect to end the album. It the the jazzy, Sinatraesque, Great American Songbook. The music of that period was the original mixture of pop culture, combining African-descended Jazz with European art song. In a musical landscape where tons of people make money with not-very-clever covers of the classics (see Josh Groban, Rod Stewart, anyone), it’s refreshing to hear someone working with those styles without making them a museum piece.