I'm heading out of town for a few days, but here's The Review of Everything, an occasional Friday feature. This article first appeared in the June 2009 issue of Bootleg Magazine. Here's a previous Review of Everything on skimboarding.
Was at this show recently, and this dude comes in with a neatly pressed jean jacket. Sewn to the back are what looks like a brand new Rancid patch. Then there was the nice faux hawk, like it was 2005 all over again. Not that it was acceptable then or now. Though this guy is somewhat of a divergence from my main point, he is also the case in point. Know how to properly wear band attire. I understand that everyone has to jump into “the scene” at some time…and then usually most of us have to leave it. But here are some rules to keep in mind:
Don’t wear a shirt for a band that you’re going to see: Unfortunately this one is the most obvious and very often the most broken. Actually, I take that back. Most of the indie rock and roll kids know how to follow this rule…and if you don’t, then you’re not an indie rock and roll kid. But here’s why this rule stands: everyone knows you’re a fan of the band or you wouldn’t be there.
Therefore, if you wear the shirt to the concert you are more of one of those weird stalker types especially when the band walks right past you at load-in. Next thing you know, you’ll ask for their autograph and the band will never engage you seriously. The point is at the indie rock show—everyone is pretty much equals. Yeah, there are the few arrogant, but that’s the exception. Instead, everyone is instead normal and the band just wants to share their art without being embarrassed by seeing the band logo stare back at them. Now, that’s not to say that you shouldn’t buy a shirt from the band after the show. Which brings me to my second rule:
Only buy band shirts at shows: Buying a shirt from Hot Topic does not support the band, it supports Hot Topic (Listen to that MC Lars song). And if you buy it from one Hot Topic in the mall, then you can be sure that every Hot Topic has it. Buying a shirt from Hot Topic detracts from the most important part of bands—discovery. Wearing a band shirt is a declaration about what you as an individual music listener has found or identified with. Wearing a band shirt means that you identify with not only the music of the band, but the ethos, the spirit, the energy. All of that is zapped from a purchase from Hot Topic or Interpunk.
Don’t wear shirts for bands that are not of your generation: If you decide to violate one and two, keep this one in mind. Lay off The Beatles shirts. Don’t wear The Ramones if you’re twelve. You’re not cool or hip or punk rock, you are the lemming falling off the mountain who thinks he is climbing up it. That is the farthest thing from being “rock and roll,” it’s benefiting marketers who bank on perceived ignorance. Here’s a caveat, I guess. Shirts of bands outside your generation are allowed if the band hasn’t been actively playing for at least 50 or 60 years. That still means no Beatles shirts, no Pink Floyd, no Lynyrd Skynyrd. Their so vintage-they’re-cool stage has not been reached yet. That means the original Glen Miller Orchestra band shirts are just coming in style.
Only wear obscure bands: Sounds like a simple suggestion--there's the rub: what's an "obscure" band? I was living in Tennessee at the time that the Kings of Leon were making noise locally...but now, wear a shirt of a Grammy award winner? The point of the band shirt is not only to identify, but to make known. The search for the obscure is a continual process, as bands cycle in and out up and down. At some point, you will have to trust in your own judgment to know if the band is too obscure or not.
But safe bets are the random punk band in your hometown--support the scene and then wear it to say "Remember when we saw Such and Such every night...man, that was awesome." Other safe bets are Canadian bands and New Jersey bands. There are tons of punk and screamo bands coming out of those two places, each with a small chance to kind of make it, but not really make it. If they do blow up (either internally or up the charts), seize the opportunity to say, "I knew them before they went on Warped Tour."
The next step after that--sell the shirt on consignment to Hot Topic or something. They dont' take consignment? Be punk and make them. Bonus band shirt point: If your once obscure band does somehow end up on the Grammys, here's your saving grace, the early edition tshirt. More than likely, the band will manufacture more than one design shirt. If you buy an early version, you can still strut it around proudly as that one kid says "Dude...that shirt's going for $300 on Ebay!" Just nod and wink.
Don't wear band shirts: The truth hurts. Band shirts are not cool. They are not hip, they are not rock 'n roll. They are only for the ones overly obsessed, making unhip idols out of their music. People that buy band shirts don't really understand music or bands, they only have a surface understanding. The true fan wears their band internally and in their mind as the sound pings around their ears then into their inner cortexes, creating a personal lounge of sound. Band shirts are for those too insecure in their own music needs, and want outside affirmation for their choices. There is no security there, only a desire to be noticed and complimented by others. So when at a show, just stick to the music and picking up the vinyl. Better yet, don't let anyone see you buy anything. Because that's way cool. More after the jump...
This might be an occasional Friday feature. "Review of Everything" kind of speaks for itself. Here's a special summer sport edition on skimboarding. This first ran last October in Bootleg Magazine.
(Somebody I don't know.)
You’re a runner, not really a swimmer. So you’ll run, throw down the board, hop on and ride the swell into a crashing wave, and try to make the turn back out again. An ocean kayaker once complained to you, because some other guys with skimboards kicked their board out and hit the man in the head. You start talking; he could see what you were doing: staying on the board, full control. Passing the time.
You got a skimboarding video a couple of years ago. The only one you have, the only one you’ve cared to see. It’s still in VHS. This guy Bill Bryan, something like a 7-time world skimboarding champion, rides in on non-existent slivers of water, flips and spins over the California coast. The transition from land to sea—the skimboarder is amphibious. The skimboarder melds to the what the conditions give—the rider does silly spins when no waves exist, and attempts crazy flying backflips and dives in three feet of water when they do. The video skimboarders are amazing. [More after the jump...]
Awesome Bill Bryan (not me)
Skimboarding demands more of the body. Landing on the coccyx is not punishment, it’s just reward for such stupidity/courage. The ride demands timing in multiple parts. The far-sighted eye gauges the quality of potential incoming waves. The mind calculates the wave speed versus foot speed versus the absent-minded tourist looking for the same type of sea shells they just found last year. The near-sighted eye keeps a close eye on the ground for the suitable place to put down. The hands drop, the feet drop on. The board traverses from dry to damp to wet. The goal, as you tell your wife, your parents, to anyone who asks to try, is to make it back again. To hit a wave, and turn back on it, ride it back in and pop up the board into your hand, walking off like nothing happened.
But everything has happened. At one time, you were just sitting, minding your beach blanket bingo, when a wave catches the eye. And then running like someone is drowning, you drop and ride in, hitting the wave at its highest crest, traveling higher than ever before, landing with a slight tilt, then smoothing out a rocky return.
“Hey honey, watch this.” It’s the family guy next to you, the guy from western Virginia, DC, New York City, watching his son toddle back around with play toys. He watches your speed. Your quickness. It’s a running sprint that surfing can only match with its long paddle excursions muted by too many minutes waiting. Skimboarding is for the quick at heart, not the faint. There are no soft landings on the coccyx. There are no easy remedies for the scraped up knee when the timing is bad.
But those are rare and few when you know what you are doing. So skimboarding takes the faint, takes the poser, takes the Blue Crush beach bum and casts them off. Bruises the first time out are inevitable. A bloody knee with shell pieces clinging to the flesh must come the second time. A damaged pride comes the third time. Yes, there is the eight year old with flames painted on his wooden board. Yes, he decides to leave it by the trash can on his way out.
It is tantalizing. It looks so simple, like a Jackson Pollock, like a Mark Rothko. This machismo is the prey of skimboarding. The sport bends the knee of those with false confidence into the ground, churning their kneecaps into a slightly knicked up mess, reducing bravado to childlike humility—like after trying to ride a bike for the first time. Then those get up, and make the decision right there. And more likely than not, they decide to go rent a surfboard. There are not as many falls so close to those they hope to impress. There are not as many bumps and bruises. There are not as many embarrassments. You are not them.
"The camera has always been on Michael, so it might be only natural that those come through in his 'short films.' And even today, he still needs the camera on him, in some way, even if he’s ducking from one car to another. Being a Thriller is the only job that Michael has ever had." I understand the phenomenon, I understand today. Usually in these situations, the deep flaws are glossed over for the great cultural memories. We all know Michael would not have aged well, like we can't imagine a really old Marilyn Monroe or James Dean. All I got is this piece about Thriller when I bought the 25th anniversary edition last year. This piece first appeared in Bootleg Magazine's June 2008 issue, which is where the above quote is from.
When I was buying the 25th anniversary edition of Michael Jackson’s Thriller for my wife, the cashier, a woman in her 40s, said that she still had the record at home. Everyone has a comment about Michael Jackson. I’m in the in-between generational divide on Michael Jackson. I’m possibly old enough to know him when he ruled the world, pre-pedophilia days, but due to staid parents and/or my semi-rural environment, I was never aware of Michael Jackson the phenomenon while it was happening, only after the fact. Hence, I’ve always viewed him as a somewhat repulsive figure, not as the pop genius that he was. My wife however, at a few years older than myself, knew Michael Jackson in all of his glory. She loved the moves, the outfits, and once as a six year old declared she would marry Michael Jackson. Thankfully, for me at least, that did not come to pass.
After I gave her the album, the education about Thriller began. I learned that it had won eight Grammy awards in 1984. I was impressed, until I realized the only good songs were the ones I knew: “Billie Jean,” “Beat It” and “Thriller.” The rest suck. “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’” features great lines such as: “You’re just a buffet/you’re a vegetable.” But then comes back with these straightforward zingers that would probably be socially unacceptable today: “If you can’t feed your baby/Then don’t have a baby/And don’t think maybe/If you can’t feed your baby.” Intriguing words from a man that would hang his baby outside a hotel window. “P.Y.T,” “Baby Be Mine” or “Human Nature” inspire nothing except for a distaste for insipid tinny 80s pop.
The album actually improves when the music stops, and the videos began. I flipped on the video (or “short film”) for “Thriller.” I’m not sure I had ever seen it all the way through. But it becomes immediately apparent why Michael was a legend in his own time. “Thriller” is one of the riskiest videos ever made.
No one attempts uncanny videos like these any longer. Jackson tweaks the classic 50s high school scene by placing himself, a black man, in the role that stereotypically did not feature a black person. He also places himself in a risky position as part of the zombie crew, threatening his own self-image by posing himself as a predator. Plus, with his crazy eyes and large fangs on the back of the album, no huge star would challenge their carefully calculated image in that way today. No one is that creative or that adventurous, everyone stays within their own stereotypical tropes rather than challenging the norms in today’s videos, especially with R&B or pop videos. No one makes videos like Michael any longer. How many videos today have black and white people in it? How many videos actually challenge how the singers or group is actually perceived by media or the public? Not many.
“Beat It,” with its Van Halen guitar chord netted Jackson a Grammy for Male Rock Vocal of the Year, and shows Jackson’s willingness to cross genres and cultivate a unique set of fans. Jackson is and was the very definition of pop—popular on a variety of levels. “Billie Jean” and “Thriller” can’t quite be pinned down as they fluctuate in pop and R&B, and those three alone sustain Thriller. Knowing that, Thriller as an album isn’t much. The rest is cheesy 80s pop, and Paul McCartney contributing to “The Girl is Mine” does not help either’s legacy. At only nine songs, Thriller is quite thin. So it’s odd to consider how big this album was. In a lot of ways, Thriller is a sprinter, not a long distance runner. Only the big three singles have merit, and the rest is disappointing. The allure of Thriller the album, is not with the music, but with the videos.
Jackson rescued Thriller by his creativity in other areas. All of his videos to the album are narrative in some sense, and follow him as a central character. They are short stories that surprise us. We’re surprised when Jackson becomes a zombie, surprised when the gangs come together in “Beat It” and surprised when the detective is arrested in “Billie Jean.” Especially in the video for “Thriller” and “Billie Jean,” the directors employ creative techniques, such as split screens and stop action. Plus, there are tons of questions. Why the heck does he use werewolves and zombies? Where does that weird cat come from in “Billie Jean”? And why does he consistently break the walls of audience with the use of theaters and cameras within his films? And “The Making of Thriller” adds not only to his legend, but confirms his desire to always be watched and deconstructed.
The aura of Michael Jackson then does not come from his music, but his ancillary work around the music. His boyhood prepped him with the ability of pop; his albums gave him access to celebrity; and these videos, the moonwalk, and stunts in his personal life have imbued with an enduring sense of fascination and celebrity.
The camera has always been on Michael, so it might be only natural that those come through in his “short films.” And even today, he still needs the camera on him, in some way, even if he’s ducking from one car to another. Being a Thriller is the only job that Michael has ever had.
