Rockcrit: Matthew Perpetua on Tim Kinsella

Writing at Fluxblog, Matthew Perpetua considers the case of Joan of Arc's “Ne Mosquitos Pass”: "Tim Kinsella is not the easiest singer to appreciate. In fact, he’s probably the worst singer whose music I actively enjoy. But here’s the thing: Whereas all too many crappy indie vocalists hedge their bets and sing with timidity and a flat affect, Kinsella emotes and pushes his thin, frail voice to occasionally excruciating limits, often with gutting results. Even still, his style would come off horribly in most musical contexts, and so it’s pretty crucial that it’s in contrast with delicate, imaginative arrangements that balance out gorgeous, graceful instrumentation with uglier textures and unorthodox rhythms. “Ne Mosquitos Pass,” a Joan of Arc gem dating back to 2001, never fails to move me with its gently floating arpeggios, somber piano chords, and absolutely unhinged conclusion. The beat is steady, but it seems to stagger all along the way, as if it can barely hold itself erect, especially when the song gets around to its bitter, ironically anthemic chorus." Not only a nice paragraph, but it suits the song.

Terminal velocity: how to end the massive Madoff coverage in NY Times

NY Times front-pages the deceptions of Bernard Madoff in the December 21 editions. As written by Diane B. Henriques, the closing grafs offer a keen example of accelerating-cadence prose ending a huge, detail-choked article. "In early December he remarked to one of [his sons] that he was struggling to raise $7 billion to cover redemptions. He seemed tired and drawn, but so was just about everyone else during the turbulent weeks of late November and early December. Then, early on Dec. 10, he shocked [them] by suggesting that the firm pay out several million dollars in bonuses two months ahead of schedule. When pressed by his sons for a reason, he grew agitated and insisted that they all leave the office and continue the conversation at his apartment on East 64th Street. It was there, at midmorning, that he told his sons that his business was “a big lie” and, “basically, a giant Ponzi scheme.” There was nothing left, he told them—and he fully expected to go to jail. The questions have piled up since then: Could Mr. Madoff have sustained this worldwide fraud for so long by himself? Why didn’t regulators, in Washington and abroad, catch him sooner? And will anything be recovered for investors, some of whom have lost every penny? But when the news of his arrest began to spread on Dec. 11, the first thought that struck an old friend who had known him as a pioneer on Wall Street, was, “There must be an error. It must be another Bernie Madoff.” Then he added, “But then, there is no other Bernie Madoff.” [Reported by Henriques, Alex Berenson, Alison Leigh Cowan, Alan Feuer, Zachery Kouwe, Eric Konigsberg, Nelson D. Schwartz, Michael J. de la Merced, Stephanie Strom, Julia Werdigier and Dirk Johnson.]

Clay Shirky on "vulgarity" on the internet, from CJR

Clay Shirky, who teaches at the Interactive Telecommunications program at New York University and is the author of "Here Comes Everybody, says not to worry about information overload. "You know, “Life was better when I was younger” is always an acceptable narrative. Right? And so for anybody who was brought up genuflecting to the literary culture and the virtues of reading Tolstoy—and essentially Tolstoy is a trope in these things, War and Peace is the longest novel in the sort of Euro-centric canon—you could always make the argument that the present is worse than the past by simply pointing to the virtues of the past. And so, what the Web does is that it does what all amateur increases do, which is it decreases the average quality of what’s available. It is exactly, precisely, the complaint made about the printing press. So, the only thing surprising about the Web, in a way, is that it’s been a long time since we’ve had a medium that increased the amount of production of written material this dramatically... [P]eople made the same complaint about comic books, they made the same complaint about paperbacks, and they made the same complaint about the vulgarity of the printing press. Whenever you let more people in, things get vulgar by definition. And people who benefited under the old system or who dislike or distrust vulgarity as a process always have room to complain. But, the interesting thing is, when you say so many people believe this, in fact almost no one believes this, right? There’s a tiny, tiny slice of the chattering classes for whom “Life was better when I was younger” is an acceptable complaint to make, and they have these little conferences or whatever and agree with one another about that phenomenon. But when you look at the actual use of the Web, it is through the roof. And it has continued in an unbroken growth from the early ’90s until now. So, in fact, almost everybody thinks it’s a good idea because they’re embracing it and they’re experimenting with it and they don’t really care what we think. And when I say “we,” I mean—I am a member of the Chardonnay-swilling East Coast liberal media elite. But I also recognize that anything I might have to say about the utility of the media actually isn’t going to influence whether or not people are going to adopt this. And so once you get out of the idea that basically the previous avatars of the cultural good, and the world that George W.S. Trow chronicled so beautifully 'Within the Context of No Contex't—once you grasp that those people are powerless to that effect, powerless with regard to the adoption curve—the question really becomes, “How do you point out an effect where something has been damaged?” And that’s where I think a lot of this conversation about reading breaks down, because if you assume that reading Tolstoy is an a priori good, your world crumbled in 1970. And it’s hard to point to the Web as responsible for any of that because that was a done deal for some time. If you want to point to more proximate harms, it would be very hard to argue, for example, that innovation, inventiveness, new intellectual discoveries had slowed as a result of the Internet, and so people are left with these kind of mealy-mouth cultural critiques, because nostalgia becomes the only bulwark against change. The actual effects of making more information available to more people have been enormously beneficial to society, yet not to the intellectual gatekeepers in the generation in which that change happened."

Greek protest posters

I've collected Greek political posters for a while and was disappointed this fall to find a lack of the usual startling design work. The provocation that led to the creation of these and the resulting violence is a terrible thing, but terrible times focus the mind. [Via Nassos Kappa.]

Manohla Dargis addresses her "dear (and hostile) reader"

In a sweetly optimistic, even uplifiting year-end countdown, New York Times film critic Manohla Dargis is inspired by the lead character of Happy-Go-Lucky: "There is, of course, perverse pleasure in ending the year with an angry rant, as I have proven in the past, if only to myself. But given the clanging of so much bad news, I thought I would try a change of pace. I’m not sure if optimism becomes me, but it sure feels nice. Every year filmmakers from around the world offer us stories filled with grief and tragedy that either feed our souls or rip out another little piece. I tend to fall for movies like these, but I also swoon for those filled with grace and generous sentiments, like Happy-Go-Lucky, that suggest that one way to face hard times (and raging driving instructors) is with an open heart and smile. Quickly now: give it a try!"

Slush pile

A pleasing screed from a reader of writing on film: Time Out Chicago

The "Letter of the week" in the 18-31 December issue of Time Out Chicago was a surprise. Writes Brandon Linden: "I'm writing this in response to an article on the New French Cinema series at Facets Multimedia and in terms of your film coverage in general. We are lucky in Chicago to have a rich and distinguished culture of film criticism. Whether you take into account Rosenbaum's polemics at the Reader (sorely missed), Ebert's more mainstream but well-wrought and beautifully written prose, or Ray Pride's personal, almost memoirist, take on film at Newcity, these are all examples that show your own writing to be ill considered and snide when it should be thoughtful and exciting. If you did not like any of the films at the fest, that is certainly your right, but it is your duty to explain the whys and hows, not just as critics, but as writers who want to be read... Your dismissive attitude about the fest as a whole shows an attitude that pervades the rest of the film coverage as well... There are wonderful opportunities here to turn on an audience that might otherwise not see these films. Engage them, contribute to the wonderful film culture we have." The editors do not offer reply.