"Handlebars" is a a darkly colorful pastiche of life in the first decade of the 21st century. Sonically, the Flobots employ a brilliant combination of rap, horns, plucked violin, and a full-fledged rock rhythm section (hear it on myspace or see the video on youtube). A humorous yet sympathetic critique of human self-aggrandizement, arrogance, and hubris, "Handlebars" is a worthy candidate for my first music-critic-style post.
As the song opens, we hear a simple yet pretty melody line being gently plucked on a violin. The lead singer enters with the refrain, a playground boast: "I can ride my bike with no handlebars/no handlebars/no handlebars," before immediately diving into the first verse, which builds on the initial image: "Look at me/look at me/hands in the air like it's good to be/alive." We are hereby introduced into the company of a self-assured braggart exulting in his or her abilities and limitless possibilities. There is a clear sense of childish innocence to these boasts, and the lurking hunger for recognition is not hidden far from the surface.
The childish boasts continue: "I can take apart a remote control/and I can almost put it back together/I can tie a knot in a cherry stem/and I can tell you about Leif Ericson..." To this point, the focus has been entirely on the ability of the narrator to be a willful and creative agent in the larger world. As the verse concludes, however, we segue into a modified refrain where the narrator claims that "I can see your face on the telephone/On the telephone/On the telephone." This line signals a transition in the second verse to a concern with modern scientific and technological achievement. It is also one of my favorite lines in the song, a well-timed pop-culture reference that ties together the image of a childish delight in the ability to see pictures on cell phones with sort of pan-human pride in our technological accomplishments.
The line about the "face on the telephone" is also emblematic of the current cultural ethos - the paradoxical combination of increasing connectivity and increasing isolation and alienation. To me, this is illustrated by the image of someone looking at the face of a friend on their cell phone. It is nice to be able to see a friendly face, even when the friend may be very far away. At the same time, the image of the face is no substitute for the reality of the presence of another person. So much of the modern experience is digitally mediated - the blogger, for example, can share thoughts and ideas in a clear and open way, but he or she is also sitting alone at a computer in a room somewhere, most of the time alone.
This theme of connection and isolation is continued in the second verse ("I just called to say that it's good to be/alive/in such a small world/all curled up with a book to read"), The narrator then returns to conceit of serial boasting, which now concerns the possibilities that might lie ahead of a young man or woman coming of age today ("I can make money open up a thrift store/I can make a living off a magazine"). The possibilities cited increasingly highlight the promise of technological developments to change the world: "I can design an engine sixty four/Miles to a gallon of gasoline/I can make new antibiotics/I can make computers survive aquatic conditions..." This part of the song elicits the image of a person who has reached the stage of life that sets in when in the early-to-mid-twenties, a stage in which I currently find myself. Out of college, money spent, living on his or her own for the first time, the young person has yet to decide on a career and a future, with a seemingly limitless array of exciting possibilities to pursue. However, this portrait of development in young adulthood quickly degenerates into cynicism, possibly stemming from the need to make money and the desire to stay hip and competitive. Thus, the boasts become both more pragmatic and more selfish, and the air of possibility begins to sound almost sinister: "I know how to run a business/And I can make you wanna buy a product/Movers shakers and producers/Me and my friends understand the future/I see the strings that control the systems/I can do anything with no assistance."
The refrain at the end of the second verse returns to the possibilities of technology, but now they seem laced with menace and dread (I base this in part on the singer's intonation): "I can lead a nation with a microphone/With a microphone/With a microphone/I can split the atoms of a molecule/Of a molecule/Of a molecule."
By the time the third verse has re-establishing the theme of bravado, the song has completely shed the initial sense of innocent self-assurance. Where previously we might have smiled at a boyish display of pride, we now recoil from a powerful declaration of arrogance and willful impunity: "Look at me/Look at me/Driving and I won't stop/And it feels so good to be/Alive and on top/My reach is global/My tower secure/My cause is noble/My power is pure." This sense is reinforced musically, as the song is steadily building towards a roaring crescendo: "I can guide a missile by satellite/By satellite/By satellite/and I can hit a target through a telescope/Through a telescope/Through a telescope/and I can end the planet in a holocaust/In a holocaust/In a holocaust/In a holocaust/In a holocaust/In a holocaust..." A jarring reminder indeed of the unfathomable potential for destruction that results when human ability is joined to human arrogance.
In my reading, "Handlebars" is nothing less than a portrait of humanity and its extraordinary potential for both creation and destruction. The lyrical trajectory of the song can be regarded as tracing the developmental time line of a young man or woman's transition from childhood through adolescence and young adulthood. In the last act, the narrator finally attains that paradoxical combination of power and disillusionment that seems to characterize full adulthood. What will humanity do with its grown-up powers? Will it build more fuel-efficient cars and discover new ways to foster peace and prosperity, or will it revel in wanton violence and destruction? We may be able to ride the bike without the use of the handlebars. But who, then, will steer?
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
What Kind of Music Do You Like?
(Originally posted on Myspace.com on August 23, 2007; Republished on "Moment of Truth" on Friday, February 29, 2008)
You know, this use to be such an innocent, simple question. People strongly identified with a particular music genre and its accompanying subculture, whether that be the folk scene in Greenwich in the early sixties, or rock and roll, or grunge and the the Seattle scene in the early-to-mid nineties. Even now, there are many emo kids and the like. And yet, more and more it seems that people of our generation keep saying the same damn thing: "Oh, you know, everything."
Even in the late nineties, I could catch people on this by following up with, "even country?" and they'd be like, "well no, except country." But even that caveat no longer holds true these days, with country being one of the top-selling genres of the past ten-to-fifteen years, and increasingly a staple on Top 40 radio and MTV (you know, between 2 and 5 in the morning, when they show music videos?). What has happened to our once-powerful identification in particular forms and kinds of music?
In truth, I too frequently say "everything," or at least want to say it. But that's not really what I mean. To me, a genre is not a good or bad thing in and of itself. Rather, it's a mode of expression, within which one can excel or dramatically fail. Indeed, it is within genres that I make my distinctions. and every genre is fair game. I maintain to you that almost any genre or subgenre has its good, its great, and its awful musicians/artists. example: within hip-hop/rap/whatever you want to call it, we have the great: Jay-Z. and the good: Kanye West. and the awful: Puff Daddy/P. Diddy/Diddy/just shut the fuck up already, no one cares anymore. Similarly, hair metal has its (sometimes) great progenitor Van Halen, its (occasionally) good Def Leppard, and its (generally) awful Bon Jovi (oh boy am I gonna get shit for that one - ok, just pretend I said poison!)
Anyways, my point is this: It's ok to like every kind of music, but pick the good music from the bad. Not all songs are created equal!
In addition, don't dismiss a song or band by its genre - that's like judging a book by...well you know what I mean. Country music has given us Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson, and even metal has its moments (some of Metallica's early albums contain some astonishing melodic sections, not to mention brilliant soloing).
And finally, when I ask you what kind of music you like, all I'm trying to do is engage you in a conversation about music. If you truly don't like music (or at least don't like to talk about it), then fine, say "oh, you know, everything." But if you wouldn't mind a discursive tangent on the relative merits of some of your favorite bands (I'll let you pick - I'm musically omnivorous), give me something to work with!
You know, this use to be such an innocent, simple question. People strongly identified with a particular music genre and its accompanying subculture, whether that be the folk scene in Greenwich in the early sixties, or rock and roll, or grunge and the the Seattle scene in the early-to-mid nineties. Even now, there are many emo kids and the like. And yet, more and more it seems that people of our generation keep saying the same damn thing: "Oh, you know, everything."
Even in the late nineties, I could catch people on this by following up with, "even country?" and they'd be like, "well no, except country." But even that caveat no longer holds true these days, with country being one of the top-selling genres of the past ten-to-fifteen years, and increasingly a staple on Top 40 radio and MTV (you know, between 2 and 5 in the morning, when they show music videos?). What has happened to our once-powerful identification in particular forms and kinds of music?
In truth, I too frequently say "everything," or at least want to say it. But that's not really what I mean. To me, a genre is not a good or bad thing in and of itself. Rather, it's a mode of expression, within which one can excel or dramatically fail. Indeed, it is within genres that I make my distinctions. and every genre is fair game. I maintain to you that almost any genre or subgenre has its good, its great, and its awful musicians/artists. example: within hip-hop/rap/whatever you want to call it, we have the great: Jay-Z. and the good: Kanye West. and the awful: Puff Daddy/P. Diddy/Diddy/just shut the fuck up already, no one cares anymore. Similarly, hair metal has its (sometimes) great progenitor Van Halen, its (occasionally) good Def Leppard, and its (generally) awful Bon Jovi (oh boy am I gonna get shit for that one - ok, just pretend I said poison!)
Anyways, my point is this: It's ok to like every kind of music, but pick the good music from the bad. Not all songs are created equal!
In addition, don't dismiss a song or band by its genre - that's like judging a book by...well you know what I mean. Country music has given us Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson, and even metal has its moments (some of Metallica's early albums contain some astonishing melodic sections, not to mention brilliant soloing).
And finally, when I ask you what kind of music you like, all I'm trying to do is engage you in a conversation about music. If you truly don't like music (or at least don't like to talk about it), then fine, say "oh, you know, everything." But if you wouldn't mind a discursive tangent on the relative merits of some of your favorite bands (I'll let you pick - I'm musically omnivorous), give me something to work with!
Top 5 Electric Guitar Instrumentals of All-Time
(Originally posted on "Moment of Truth" on Tuesday, January 15, 2008)
This is a subject I care deeply about. But seriously, it is difficult to make an instrumental pop track that is truly compelling. I feel that the following tracks meet that requirement. They also showcase some truly incredible playing!
1) Stevie Ray Vaughan, "Little Wing" - The original, composed by Jimi Hendrix, is a pop masterpiece, and (naturally) contains some great guitar playing. The song has been covered numerous times, most notably by Derek and the Dominos (Eric Clapton + Duane Allman = best band to record only one album? that list coming soon...)
2) Eric Johnson, "Cliffs of Dover" - You may not have heard of this song, but if you've listened to hard rock radio much, I guarantee it will sound familiar to you. The best original composition for an instrumental guitar song ever, with only one other that even comes close, IMHO (see #5, below).
3) Yngvie Malmsteen, "Canon in D" - Fans of this classical classic, if you've ever wanted to hear this song truly rocked out, Malmsteen's version is a must-listen. I have to point out here that there is a video of an amateur guitarist playing Canon in his bedroom on youtube, and this video happens to be the 10th most-viewed and 2nd-most favorited video of all time on Youtube (as of this writing). And it is a good rendition. I still prefer Malmsteen's version. That's how good it is.
4) Jeff Beck, "A Day in the Life" - An instrumental of one of Beatles' greatest and most highly regarded songs, this track was recorded for inclusion in George Martin's In My Life, an album of Beatles covers put together in 1999 (George Martin produced most of the Beatles' music, including Revolver, Sgt. Pepper's, and Abbey Road, as well all of their early stuff). This album may be better known for Sean Connery's version of "In My Life," but "A Day in the Life" is the true highlight.
5) Santana, "Samba Pa Ti" - From the classic album Abraxas, Carlos Santana demonstrated early on that his guitar was the true lead singer of Santana.
This is a subject I care deeply about. But seriously, it is difficult to make an instrumental pop track that is truly compelling. I feel that the following tracks meet that requirement. They also showcase some truly incredible playing!
1) Stevie Ray Vaughan, "Little Wing" - The original, composed by Jimi Hendrix, is a pop masterpiece, and (naturally) contains some great guitar playing. The song has been covered numerous times, most notably by Derek and the Dominos (Eric Clapton + Duane Allman = best band to record only one album? that list coming soon...)
2) Eric Johnson, "Cliffs of Dover" - You may not have heard of this song, but if you've listened to hard rock radio much, I guarantee it will sound familiar to you. The best original composition for an instrumental guitar song ever, with only one other that even comes close, IMHO (see #5, below).
3) Yngvie Malmsteen, "Canon in D" - Fans of this classical classic, if you've ever wanted to hear this song truly rocked out, Malmsteen's version is a must-listen. I have to point out here that there is a video of an amateur guitarist playing Canon in his bedroom on youtube, and this video happens to be the 10th most-viewed and 2nd-most favorited video of all time on Youtube (as of this writing). And it is a good rendition. I still prefer Malmsteen's version. That's how good it is.
4) Jeff Beck, "A Day in the Life" - An instrumental of one of Beatles' greatest and most highly regarded songs, this track was recorded for inclusion in George Martin's In My Life, an album of Beatles covers put together in 1999 (George Martin produced most of the Beatles' music, including Revolver, Sgt. Pepper's, and Abbey Road, as well all of their early stuff). This album may be better known for Sean Connery's version of "In My Life," but "A Day in the Life" is the true highlight.
5) Santana, "Samba Pa Ti" - From the classic album Abraxas, Carlos Santana demonstrated early on that his guitar was the true lead singer of Santana.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
