It's a magical world

The Man Who Fell to Earth (1976), dir. Nicolas Roeg
When David Bowie died I went to the movies. He stole the entire film with his turn as Nikola Tesla in The Prestige (2006)--I would have paid so much money to have an entire movie of him as Tesla--and of course I've seen Labyrinth (1986), but I'd never seen this one. What struck me immediately was how similar it was, in terms of effects and directorial philosophy, to The Prisoner. The passage of time has been much kinder to the latter; the film never quite coheres, and it's too long. I was also reminded of Under the Skin; this movie is better. I was very proud of myself for correctly identifying Jim Lovell before the on-screen newscaster introduced him. But as a series of striking sequences, and for Bowie's weird, reserved performance, it's worth seeing at least once.

Purple Rain (1983), dir. Albert Magnoli
When Prince died I wore all purple the next day in mourning for the purple Yoda from Minnesota. The next week I went to see Purple Rain, which is amazing. The story is fine, with perhaps more sexism than I was frankly expecting, but wow, Prince. Prince. Prince. I immediately understood that the people who said on Twitter that Prince in concert was pure sex were right, because the Prince numbers in Purple Rain are also pure sex. Even when people in the theater with me got out real actual lighters and held them up during "Purple Rain" and we all clapped and sang along, I couldn't tear my eyes away from him on that First Avenue stage. (I kept looking for friends of mine among the extras in the concert scenes, but no luck.) People on The Current were saying that the movie will endure for the fashion, and it's true that amazing, but the movie will be immortal because it has Prince in it. Like most of his catalog the soundtrack desperately needs a remaster, but even so, it was one of the more mind-blowing concert experiences I've had, never mind that I wasn't actually at a concert.

Something everybody loves that you don't (or that you love that nobody else seems to) for the_rck 

I am a day behind--whoops! 

I think the answer I am going to give, to the positive permutation of the question, is the books of Neal Stephenson. I am immediately going to put in the caveat that I've "only" read The Baroque Trilogy (Quicksilver, The Confusion, and The System of the World) and Anathem, but when you think about the length of a typical Stephenson novel--and the sad fact that most people don't seem to make it all the way through the Baroque trilogy, sob!--that is still pretty respectable.

The line I most often hear about Stephenson is that he is bad at endings and women, and while I obviously can't speak to his earlier books, I think both books disprove that idea to some extent. The Baroque Trilogy has many awesome female characters, for example, starting with but by no means limited to Eliza, and The System of the World is both an excellent book with a conventional plot structure in its own right as well as one long ending to a thousand-page epic. And the female characters of Anathem at least play active parts, even if the actual protagonist is male.

But what I love about Stephenson most is that he's so smart and so funny. The number of times I laughed out lout while reading the Baroque Trilogy was in the dozens--he has a way with quips, particularly in the first and third books, that is hilarious, though the Star Trek joke in Anathem was hilarious too--and also just a bravura way with words that I think is really great. Some people have said to me that they find Stephenson's prose style boring. I also like Thomas Pynchon and China Miéville, and in the end there's no accounting for taste. And while Stephenson may not be a Virginia Woolf or a Joseph Conrad in terms of prose style, he does have a style, and moreover, he's astonishingly smart and astonishingly good at explaining very complicated ideas very clearly. The part in Quicksilver where they escape Blackbeard with calculus--let me say that again, they escape Blackbeard with calculus, oh excuse me Sir Isaac, I meant fluxions--is a case in point. Anathem, where the characters run around doing all kinds of complicated trigonometry and orbital mechanics with not much more in the way of tools than were available to Euclid, with the crucial exception of their prodigious scholastic tradition and the minds they use it with, is another excellent example.

Anathem is another example of the ways in which Stephenson isn't afraid to channel that intelligence towards speculation--informed speculation, but speculation nonetheless--about science and technology, though I'll say no more about Anathem because it's all major spoilers. spaiku said to me once that The Diamond Age is the only work from the cyberpunk age that got the way we live now right (and I think that's true if you take a mulligan on William Gibson, whose novels came true in pieces and who then stopped writing science fiction), so this isn't precisely a new trick, either.

Talking of The Diamond Age brings up the other reason people tend not to read Stephenson, namely the very questionable racial politics in some of his books. I called The Diamond Age "the masterpiece of techno-Orientalism" in my Ph.D. exam, which is a characterization I stand by, and I'd really rather just pretend the Mongoliad books or whatever the fuck they're called don't exist. In its dealings with the Ottomans Quicksilver in particular suffers from some of this, but in drawing on history and also research Stephenson is insulated from some of the more pernicious effects of unconscious attitudes. It's a shame that such a learned guy can't get past his own privilege or ignorance or whatever, and I certainly can understand why people would avoid Stephenson on this account. But at least these four books, and some of his others about which I've heard good things, are ones on which I want to play the "this author is problematic but I like them anyway" card. I actually heard him speak at my university once, and he struck me as actually quite humble, which might come as a surprise to some people. I would have liked to ask him a question about some of these points, but the Q&A moderation was terrible and so were the moderator's questions. Don't let physicists ask writers about novels, people. Just say no to that.

Anyway, I commend The Baroque Trilogy to anyone interested in the Scientific Revolution, 17thC Europe, or London; I walked around the city this summer with scenes from the books playing through my head like some kind of multimedia installation. And I commend Stephenson to your reconsideration, if you're so inclined.

---

Oh, if you want the answer to the other half of the question, because they just came up on a playlist: FUCKING MUMFORD AND SONS. ALL THEY DO IS GROAN MELODICALLY. SHUT UP MUMFORD AND SONS. WHY

What more could you want? 

I went with epershand and some people to see Fall Out Boy at the America's Cup Pavilion last night. FALL OUT BOY ARE PRETTY GREAT LIVE. I had only ever seen Patrick Stump before--and that was one of the best shows of my life--I may have been the only person there who cared more about Patrick Stump than about Pete Wentz. I had kind of forgotten how much I liked Patrick Stump? Or rather I had forgotten that he was in Fall Out Boy? I was glad that I have gotten into the habit of just saying "yes" to concerts with E and 15dozentimes, because though I didn't have much concept of FOB, they were awesome and I loved them almost immediately. In the middle of the set they left the stage and did a mini-acoustic set in between the floor and the stands! That was cool.

The America's Cup Pavilion is the open-air concert venue that has been erected at Pier 23 as part of the interminable America's Cup folderol, which thankfully should come to an end today when New Zealand finally kicks Larry Ellison's Team Oracle's ass. (There have been wind and rain delays, and the Kiwis are stuck at 8-1. They need nine races to win.) The America's Cup Pavilion, as a concert venue, is one of the strangest I've been to. There were no toilets, only port-a-potties, and the "floor" section of the "arena" had…AstroTurf laid down. Which was weird, but certainly helped my knees not be totally shot by the end of the night. And it was pretty cool, in the end! We were right below Coit Tower and the moon rose over the stands in the middle of the FOB set and the fact that it was open air kept the pot smoke from being too thick and it was also more than a little magical. The lighting in particular was pretty great, and also the crew were some of the most efficient I've ever seen. The concert started with Twenty-One PIlots (whatever) at 18:58 on my watch, and they changed from the opener to Panic! at the Disco in literally ten minutes flat (WHAT). (Also, the exclamation point is definitely back.) The Fall Out Boy transition took a bit longer, but was still pretty speedy. We got into the habit of blaming Larry Ellison for any and everything: "Larry Ellison, bring out Fall Out Boy! Larry Ellison, why is there no toilet paper! Damn it, Larry!" (Yes, like all right-thinking people in the Bay area, we basically loathe Larry Ellison, for so many reasons.)

I took a ton of photos--probably more than 300 on two cameras--for a class assignment, which was interesting as a way to interact with the show; I found myself way more interested in the reactions of other people than I normally am, when I'm trying to concentrate on the music. (I took 300+ photos to get five.) And then I went home and downloaded the new FOB album (yes, I know), and as usual I have the post-concert sadness that the album cuts aren't as good as they were when performed live. Come back to San Francisco, Fall Out Boy! 

(Also: it would be pretty cool if there were a venue like the America's Cup Pavilion on the waterfront permanently, I think. It's an amazing location and San Francisco could use more large-scale concert venues. No, I'm not really a fan of the Greek Theater in Berkeley, why do you ask?)

My dad and I went to the National Constitution Center to see the exhibit From Asbury Park to the Promised Land: The Life and Music of Bruce Springsteen. I have mixed feelings about the NCC; I have none about Bruce Springsteen, or about the exhibit, which was pretty damn awesome, and for Springsteen fans, well worth the trip.

The National Constitution Center is part of the post-2001 reshaping of the heart of the "Historic Philadelphia" area in Old City, and as someone who has very fond memories of the old mall and the old Liberty Bell pavilion, I really just am not a fan of the NCC. It is big, it is ugly, the new parking garage put a hump in the mall that obscures the sightlines to Independence Hall from a block away, and it is fundamentally weird to have an entire museum dedicated to a document that is…in Washington, D.C. That said, I have gone through the NCC's permanent exhibit, "Freedom Rising," which despite the idiotic name is an interesting take on the history of the United States in that it is framed through the prism of the Constitution and the idea that the history of the United States is the history of the extension of that document's privileges to successive groups of formerly disenfranchised people. Which, yes, is a task that is not yet done and is also a particular romantically progressive delusion, but on the other hand narratives make history and our sense of the future and I don't think it's a bad story to tell people, although the exhibit does not, I think, completely hit its mark. Well, as Benny F would have agreed, the great work is still unfinished.

It occurred to me as my dad and I were leaving that the NCC should have the Bad Romance: Women's Suffrage video in its collections. It doesn't, of course, and it won't. ( Video embedded below )

The Bruce Springsteen exhibit is on one level an odd choice for the NCC, and on the other, if you've ever half paid attention to any Bruce lyrics, a perfect fit. The exhibit collects a lot of archival memorabilia (I have seen the guitar and the leather jacket from the Born to Run cover, the guitar that Bruce has played in hundreds of shows, in person!) and in particular dozens of pages from Bruce's notebooks, showing his obsessive rewritings of some of his most famous and most obscure songs. For me, the insight into his creative process alone was worth the price of admission, and it also sharpened my appreciation for his genius: just where does he get these words? Who the hell talks like this, let alone writes songs like this? Where did Springsteen come from? From New Jersey, from the US of A, from the spirit of the times that summoned him up and has animated him and his career ever since, from the heart of rock and roll. You would never think, listening to a masterpiece like "Born to Run," that the lyrics--which seem so natural, so inevitable--had been rewritten nearly fifty times before he ever cut the demo track. But they were.

( Baby we were born to run... ) So it goes, I guess.

Billy Joel, "A Matter of Trust," 1986.

# Björk has a new album/multimedia project, Biophilia, coming out next month. I am excited. I think Björk is one of the best, most fearless, and most interesting musicians out there, bar none.

# With her commissioning the creation of a new instrument, the gameleste, for the album, the history of the gamelan outside Indonesia has entered a new chapter.

# This Michel Gondry-directed video for one of the album's tracks, "Crystalline," that features the gameleste, is pretty amazing: 

( And it makes me want to rewatch Charmax's vid Space Girl, so I did, I did, I did. )
Originally posted at Dreamwidth Studios; you can comment there using OpenID or a DW account.

1. What's the best but least-known (to Westerners, to Japanese people in other parts of the country, whichever) thing about Kyoto you've discovered?
Hmm, this is tough! Kyoto never ceases to throw new things into my path, but on the other hand, I've grown to know the city fairly well (partly, yes, because I had a lot of time and money and few responsibilities the last time I was here).

So, let's see. One of the things you can find in Kyoto that I love, and that even people from Kansai don't often know about, is hiyashi ame, cold ginger juice. It is SO GOOD. I've found it two places in Kyoto (actually near Kyoto technically, but close enough): at Mii-dera, across the mountains in Shiga, and at Mimuroto-ji in Uji, during the hydrangea season. I also found it at the Tenjin matsuri in Osaka last month, which was awesome.

As for places…I love just about all of the major Kyoto sites, which is good because I inevitably wind up making a circuit of them when I show people around, but some of my really favorite places are slightly more out of the way. Mimuroto-ji in Uji above, Ishiyama-dera a bit further east, Kajû-ji in Yamashina, Myôshin-ji up in the northwest (it's so cool to wander around there, just so cool; it's like a little town made up entirely of temples). I also really love the Garden of Fine Arts up on Kitayama, which bills itself as the world's first outdoor art garden and is a cheerfully bizarre little place, with architecture by Andô Tadao, who is one of my all-time favorites and luckily for me a Kansai native, so there's lots of his buildings around to explore. The Garden of Fine Arts is quirky and awesome.

It's really hard to choose, actually. I just love Kyoto, period.

2. What's your favorite thing about A:TLA (a character, a trope, an episode, etc.)?
Well, I think my favorite trope is actually the willingness of the show's creators to remix so many things from actual history and Asian cultures with such wild, though respectful, abandon. The most obvious example is the fauna (turtleducks! they are awesome!), but you see it everywhere (how awesome is the lion turtle? How awesome?).

Also, I really just unreservedly love Toph. TOPH I LOVE YOU.

And also, 3x17, "The Ember Island Players," is just golden, golden, golden.

3. Are there other quintessentially Jersey musicians you dig as much as Bruce Springsteen (like, dare I ask your feelings about Bon Jovi)?
Hmm, there aren't that many musicians that I think of as being quintessentially New Jersey! Really the only ones I can think of are The Gaslight Anthem, Titus Andronicus, and My Chemical Romance. The Gaslight Anthem really only have a few songs that I like, but I do like "High Lonesome" a lot. As for MCR, I really love their newest album Danger Days, which is ironically the least obviously Jersey-ish of their albums because it's (not) a concept album, but their older, more Jersey-ish music is less of a surefire win for me. But I really like Titus Andronicus a lot (their album The Monitor is really quite good, if you like alternative/indie rock-ish music exploring what the hell is with the States now via the Civil War), though I've been told that they don't perform live well. There's just something about their music--it's not even completely my experience of New Jersey, because just from their music I can tell that they are so, so North Jersey, and honestly the album that probably best reflects my experience of growing up in (the northern portion of) South Jersey is Arcade Fire's The Suburbs, which tells you a lot right there, but even so, Titus Andronicus have managed to tap into the core of New Jersey somehow, not just place but people. And, yeah. It doesn't have to be my experience of home to remind me of home.

I actually enjoy Bon Jovi, but only on a song-by-song basis, and usually only at parties or when driving around in a car singing along with the blasting stereo.

4. What do you want to be doing this time next year?
Well, I'm hoping to either spend the summer in China doing language study, or to get a summer fellowship at the Wikimedia Foundation in San Francisco. Hopefully either or both of those will actually be possible…the real question is whether I should be trying to be in the Beijing or the Shanghai area. Opinions on that question welcome!

5. What's your favorite outfit for daily wear & for fancy occasions?
Hmm. It depends on where/when I am! Here in Kyoto I have basically fallen back into what I think of as the gaijin uniform, namely Bermuda shorts, a shirt, and sandals or sneakers, though my bucket hat and umbrella-repurposed-as-parasol, and geta (wooden sandals) when I wear them, are adaptations of Japanese fashion that I couldn't live without. On the days when I actually wear a skirt or a sundress I feel much more in step with the people around me, though I just don't have the wardrobe to layer in the summer months, unlike people here.

In California my sartorial skills have also backslid; I tend to wear jeans, a shirt, and sneakers or sandals, with a scarf and a blazer or hoodie as appropriate. Given that I'll be teaching starting this year, though, I'm going to be making the effort to dress a little more professionally, again. This is basically in direct conflict with a) the campus ethos and b) the fact that I really love T-shirts, but clothes are a quick route to being taken more seriously, so there it is. When I make the effort to wear a skirt or a blazer I usually wear heels, though I also sometimes wear heels with jeans, just because I can.

For fancy occasions…I have several dresses that I wear frequently, depending on the weather, and several pairs of higher-heeled shoes that I enjoy wearing for short stretches of time, but one thing about grad school so far is that there's a dearth of fancy occasions in general, and half the time I just throw on my suit for the academic ones. Mind you, I love that suit (three-piece), and it looks good, so that's okay, but I will need another one eventually. I'd like something slightly less classic; we'll see.

I also need to get a good hat, like a straw trilby, before I come back to Japan again.

Low, C'mon (2011)
I really like Low a lot (I'm going to see them in September, I hope, finally!)--they're usually a three-piece from Duluth, and their music, which gets typecast as slowcore but doesn't, I think, quite fit that mold, really appeals to me. That said, it took me a couple of listens to realize that this album is unusual both for being shorter than most and for having most of its songs in a major key. My favorites are still Drums and Guns and The Great Destroyer, but this album's pretty great too.

The Decemberists, Live at Bull Moose (2011)
A live EP released for National Record Store Day, it's mostly songs off the new album The King Is Dead, but if you like The Decemberists live, you'll like this.

Patrick Stump, Truant Wave (2011)
This is a six-track EP of outtakes from his upcoming album Soul Punk, and if it is a trifle overproduced, it's still completely awesome. I'm still blown away by the man's sheer musicianship, and talent.

Sunset Rubdown, Shut Up I Am Dreaming (2006)
I love Sunset Rubdown and their art rock, and if this record isn't quite as good as Dragonslayer, which was amazing, it's still pretty darn good. Indeed, it's interesting to listen to this album and hear at least one song off Dragonslayer in embryonic form.

Daft Punk, Tron Legacy: Reconfigured (2011)
The original soundtrack to the movie was great, but holy shit, this one is a hundred times better. If you liked the movie music, go out and get this album now.

I went to see The Decemberists in Oakland on Valentine's Day. It's my fourth time seeing them (and my first time seeing them without my sister ;_; ), but I always enjoy seeing them a lot--they put on a really good, really fun show every time, and every time the music sounds different, even when they play some of the same songs.

As befitted a show on Valentine's Day in California, they opened with "California One" and played a lot of their more romantic(-ish) songs, including "We Both Go Down Together" and some of my absolute favorites, including the complete "The Crane Wife" (what's the word for a little epic within a larger epic?). Since they're touring for The King Is Dead, their new album, they played a fair few songs off of there, though fewer than I was expecting in all honesty. Just as excitingly, the violinist they hired for the tour--Sara Watkins of Nickel Creek--played violin parts on every song, and she sang backup on "The Mariner's Revenge Song" and took the lead on "Won't Want for Love" from The Hazards of Love, which was really cool. Also really cool was doing "The Mariner's Revenge Song" at the end of the first encore; this is the first time they've not done "Sons and Daughters" either as the last song of the set or the final encore, which was cool. Also cool was that they made us all scream and wail and groan like we were being swallowed alive by a whale.

But the best thing of all was that during "The Chimbley Sweep" the drummer married a couple on stage, and then they pretended to be a crappy wedding band. Yup. It was awesome. My complaints about concert-goers out here still stand, but by the end just about everyone was into it; it was great.