Not Up from the Fringes

I will not get into why I’m writing this post, but I have a question: Is the Third Wave, enmeshed as it is in mainstream popular culture, all that much on the fringe?

I’m willing to admit that not everyone will know Ladyfest, the festival that I worked with for four years for my dissertation research.  But, by and large, I think that people would recognize the cultural politics the festivals endorse as not all that fringe-y.  For example, the most outre political event discussed in my dissertation was when an anarchist marching band crashed a festival.  But the anarchist marching band was not originally part of the festival; in fact, most of the organizers rolled their eyes at said anarchist marching band’s politics.  Instead, mostly the festival is about promoting local women musicians and raising money for women’s charities; nothing fringe-y in that.  The larger scope of the politics is how this festival engages with the often conflicting discourses of Third Wave feminism: the use and purposes of pop culture; the reclamation of femininity and frank presentation of sexuality; the acknowledgment that much of this sexuality is white and middle class, and yet the Third Wave is supposed to understand intersecting identities; etc.

What perhaps bothered me more, however, was the idea that this person considered Third Wave feminism more generally a fringe topic.  Surely, Bust is not that weird!  A heck of a lot of people read Jezebel, and feministing, and feministe, and Shakesville, and Shapely Prose and Salon.com’s Broadsheet and dozens of other feminist blogs and websites.  And lots of people buy Liz Phair’s and Le Tigre’s and Hole’s and Sleater-Kinney’s and even Alanis Morissette’s music, and a lot of people place all of that music in the category of “Third Wave” (the feminism that sometimes dare not speak its name).

And, in relation to my research, is that music festival that fringe if it was covered in Time?  Or on Mtv.com?  Or that it was covered in dozens of local papers?  And has occurred in more than 200 iterations worldwide?

Perhaps, though, this is not quite the issue.  What is so striking to me is that the politics in the Third Wave are not exactly a movement; they are pop-cultural; they sometimes overlap; they sometimes conflict; they sometimes don’t call themselves “feminist”; they sometimes call things “feminist” that the Second Wave would not identify as such.  In this sense, maybe people who are not of the younger generation see things as fringier than they are, because it’s not a “movement” in the same sense as the Second Wave/women’s liberation movement.  Instead, it is cultural politics, that is trying to change the world via culture (pop and otherwise), and that is not always as easy to recognize as legislative-based politics.  In these pop-cultural spaces, one sometimes has to be of it in order to recognize the politics, and that means that sometimes people only interpret the things on the edges as truly political, because they are more used to seeing those things as political.

I realize that this is perhaps a more “academic” blog post than I usually make, but it’s pretty much what I have been thinking about all day.

Anyway, tomorrow will brings the return of Rock History, What I Leave Out. This week’s topic: Queen!

Katy Perry: Boyfriend Killer?

No, not really.  But Agent M and I went to Coney Island amusement park Astroland’s last day today, and our first ride was my favorite: the Break Dance.  It’s kind of like combining the Scrambler with the Tilt-A-Whirl, and then speeding things up quite a bit, so that you’re mashed against the back of your lurching, spinning, jerking two-person car.

As we were exiting the ride, guess what song was playing?  Katy Perry’s “I Kissed a Girl.”  At the same time, it became quite clear that the ride’s G-forces do not agree with Agent M, and he became quite ill.  But, in part, we both blame Katy Perry.

(I promised silliness in this blog.  Here it is!)

Bad Cover Version’s Bad Cover Versions

Today was a busy day.  And it looks like all Fridays are going to be that way from now on.  Thus, the introduction of a new series on the blog: Bad Cover Version’s Bad Cover Versions!  It will feature, rather obviously, some of the worst rip-offs, remakes, and regurgitations of fine pop tunes.

Bad Cover Version’s Bad Cover Versions #1: Pat Boone’s “Ain’t That a Shame” (1955)

Boone is one of the worst offenders in pop history; he may have, ironically, helped integrate music.  Back in 1955, Pat Boone scored a big hit covering Fats Domino’s “Ain’t That a Shame,” which had gone to #1 on the R&B charts.  Of course, songs that had gone to #1 on the R&B charts probably hadn’t done so on the pop charts, which largly played white music to white audiences.

According to rock music history apocrypha, Boone’s producers had to push the uptight, stuffy Columbia University alum into singing the song, with its grammatically incorrect title.  The result was a forced, uptight, restrained, overly reverbed, swingless version that had neither rhythm nor blues.  In short, it was perfect for a white, middle-class audience.

The song went to #1 in the pop charts, thus justifiably pissing off Fats Domino’s co-writer Dave Bartholemew for all eternity.  Boone would continue, throughout the 1950s, to shamelessly record songs that black artists had made popular with black audiences, including Little Richard’s “Tutti Frutti” and “Long Tall Sally,” and the Orioles’ “It’s Too Soon To Know.”  And he wasn’t doing it out of homage, but out of opportunity:  Boone would typically record the song a few weeks after the black artists reached the chart.  Sometimes, as in the case of “Tutti Frutti,” the songs would be on the charts at the same time.

Boone’s bowlderized versions had immediate and great success, but they are, thankfully, not the versions that we as a culture remember.  When Alan Freed (yes, of the payola scandal) began playing original artists instead of Pat Boone versions, teenagers began to demand the originals, if just to piss off their parents, who were much more likely to look kindly upon that nice Boone boy and less kindly upon that cross-dressing weirdo, Little Richard.  While Boone’s opportunism did earn him a good deal of cash, he was, as they say, on the wrong side of history.

Future suggestions for Bad Cover Version’s Bad Cover Versions?  Email ekkeenan at gmail dot com!  Or send me a tweet on Twitter.

Anger Is an Energy, but Sometimes I Have Hope

I have not been so angry at any time in recent memory as I am right now after Sarah Palin’s speech last night.  But I’m in no mood to be articulate about that anger, and I don’t even think that if I were in the mood I could, at this point, be articulate.  And I am tired–so tired–of being this angry about politics, of listening to angry political music to abate my angry political disappointments.

So, I am reminding myself not only of the deep connection between popular music and politics, but also of the great songs that are not jingoistic or knee-jerk political and that are about what makes this country great.  Here are five classics of hope.  And I do not mean “hope” in an instant gratification kind of way, but in a long-term, someday-this-will-be-fixed kind of way.

1. “A Change is Gonna Come.”  Sam Cooke (but I also like the Otis Redding cover… certainly not a bad cover version!).  One of the most beautiful songs of the Civil Rights era, supposedly inspired by #4 in this list.  Prior to this song, Cooke wrote ballads and pop songs; after, he turned towards Civil Rights activism.

2.  “People Get Ready.”  The Impressions.  Uses religious imagery in a way that does not make me automatically shout, “Separation of church & state!”  Mostly because it’s not saying, “God is going to smite you!” but rather, “We will be delivered from this suffering.”

3. “We Shall Overcome.” Traditional, but popularized by Pete Seeger, who credits Guy Carawan (my SF roommate Heather’s dad!) with the nice little rhythmic twist in the song.  Seeger also added a verse to the song.

4. “Blowin’ in the Wind.” Bob Dylan (but performed by Peter, Paul, and Mary).  Sure, it might rip off the African-American spiritual “No More Auction Block for Me,” but it’s one of those songs that presents Bob Dylan at his best, writing in poetic, yet understandable language.  It’s at once depressing–because the answer seems to be “forever,” but also suggestive that it’s obvious to fix the problems at hand.

5. “Free Your Mind (And Your Ass Will Follow).” Funkadelic.  Yes, it’s basically a very long, very high song with no clear political message.  But, you know, freeing your mind is pretty damned important.

Notably, all these songs are from no later than the 1960s.  I tried very hard to include more recent music, but most of the political stuff from my lifetime seems too damned angry, not as hopeful.  And I was really hoping (ha!) that this election could be about hope, and not a bunch of dishonest mud-slinging.  And so I try to think of last week, rather than this one, and think, “A Change is Gonna Come.”  Someday.

P.S.  My favorite jingoistic American song?  “Round & Round Hitler’s Grave,” the Almanac Singers.

A Diversion from Music: Meatloaf Recipe

Before yesterday, I’d never made meatloaf.  But we had 6 pounds of ground meat leftover from the Manly Movie Mammajamma, and we’ve already had sliders and sloppy joes in recent memory.  I asked my mother, who is not a meatloaf enthusiast, and she said, “Look it up in Betty Crocker.”  Which I did, but that recipe called for milk–milk?–and what I thought were far too many breadcrumbs.

So I called my aunt, who gave me a million options of what one could theoretically do to make a meatloaf moist but not crumbly, tender but not greasy.  Here’s what I did, based on some of those suggestions:

Ingredients

2 lbs ground beef

1 3/4 cups bread crumbs (Actually, I used squashed up some toasty Nonni’s Panetini; I usually substitute mashed up croutons for bread crumbs)

1 1/4 cups Elizabeth’s quick & easy pizza sauce (left over, recipe below)

1/4 cup water

2 eggs

1/4 cup onion

2 slices bacon

Spices: salt, pepper, ancho chili powder, garlic, oregano, basil

Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Squash panetini/croutons (trust me on this sub–I started making meatballs in college, and panetini/croutons make much better breadcrumbs than actual breadcrumbs).  Chop onions into small pieces.  Combine all ingredients in a large bowl, mix thoroughly.

Gently pack meatloaf mixture into 9″ loaf pan or glass baking dish (I used the latter). Top with two strips of bacon (according to my aunt, this helps retain moisture).

Bake for 1 1/2 hours, or until done.

Elizabeth’s Quick & Easy Pizza Sauce

1 28-ounce can crushed tomatoes

1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

1-2 cloves garlic

To taste: salt, pepper, cayenne pepper, ancho chili powder, oregano, basil

Combine all ingredients. Stir. Voila!

Warning: this doesn’t quite work as marinara, since it isn’t cooked.  It works as pizza sauce and in the meatloaf because both of those involve cooking (and hence better flavor mixing).  Also, if you make it for this recipe, you’ll have a lot left over!

Rock History, What I Leave Out: Alanis Morissette

Alanis Morissette actually makes it into the syllabus every semester, but somehow she’s the first cut when I get behind, after showing too much of Gimme Shelter or Woodstock.  I then have to figure out what to cut, and Alanis inevitably is the first to go.

I have often wondered why I do so, since I think that she’s incredibly important in the revival of the female singer-songwriter in the mid 1990s.  Sure, you might argue that Tori Amos is a more interesting choice musically, or that she’d been doing it a lot longer than Morissette.  Or maybe you could say that Sarah McLachlan is more representative of a “singer-songwriter” sound.  Or maybe you want to see an  “indie” artist, such as Ani DiFranco, included in the syllabus, for her spirit and her contributions to a certain kind of punk-folk guitar playing.  Or maybe you’re into Liz Phair.  Or maybe you don’t like female singer-songwriters at all, in which case you’re like most of the boys in my rock & roll class.

But Alanis Morissette’s position is a little different than all of these, since she seemingly appeared out of nowhere (OK, Canada), and had the biggest selling debut album of any woman, ever, internationally.  And for that, I think she wins out, but she’s also worth talking about for other reasons.

For example, “You Oughta Know,” Morissette’s first single from Jagged Little Pill (1995), is blazingly autobiographical in its lyrics (or at least it’s meant for us to think so).  The lyrics are explicit in both meanings of the word–sexual and clear.  From the notoriously skanky line about going down on the dude in the theater, to the fact that the woman replacing her was “an older version of me” (rather than something more predictable, but still works, like “another version of me”), they set forth a portrait of an extremely bitter breakup.

But the lyrics, female subjectivity and all, are not what made Morissette’s debut song on her first international album the ginormous hit that it was.  No, it was Morissette’s voice, which was not at all what one would have expected from a former Nickolodeon star and Canadian teen pop princess: yelpy, growly, howly, at times filled with air, at times strategically double tracked for extra power and wickedness, it was a complex and confusing instrument of anger, the voice of a woman scorned.  Just as important and not to be lost in this discussion of lyrical content, it was the musical setting: like many rock songs of the time, it begins with relatively sparse instrumentation and a quiet dynamic and builds gradually with an extended crescendo to the chorus.  Nirvana (or the Pixies), anyone?

I would love to teach a class just on that idea alone: that, for all the hype about the “angry young women” in rock music, it was about damned time that they were there, not forced into the girly confines of acoustic guitar-playing or piano banging.  That, more than just equating the female singer-songwriter with feelings and emotion associated with cliches of womanhood, women like Morissette were taking on anger, that last bastion of maleness that always already characterized masculinity in rock music.

But then, the rest of the album–also megahits–moved away from that picture.  “Ironic” and “Hand in My Pocket” and “Head Over Feet” and “You Learn” gave an entirely different view of Alanis Morissette’s music.  It was darned optimistic, and at times charming, but at others seemed to be an apology for the brute force of “You Oughta Know.”  As in, you oughta know that I’m not really like that, see, I’m nice, and winning and a good girl.  And, while I don’t want to imply that one cannot both be angry and a good girl, or have many facets to one’s identity, I also don’t feel comfortable with teaching the wacky-free-spirit vibe, either.

In the end, I just don’t know how to reconcile Alanis Morissette’s whimsical side with her angry one in a way that can be encapsulated in an hour and a half class.  In fact, I think that I would find that to be the same problem with all of the women I mentioned above from the 1990s.  It’s a lot easier, for example, to talk about Green Day as the template for suburban punk and teen anomie in the mid-1990s than it is to talk about women singer-songwriters, whose lyrics, recording styles, instrument choices, etc., force a listener to consider autobiography and subjectivity a little too much.

Don’t get me wrong, female subjectivity is important–not to mention rare–in rock music.  It is frequently brought up as the salient characteristic of the female singer-songwriter, a gender-based genre that often straddles the line between rock music and pop, both stylistically and in terms of radio play (often losing out on both ends for that one).  But why does the question of subjectivity really only come up with women?   Is it because a male subjectivity is just assumed most of the time?  (Silly question.)

So, since I don’t like to make it seem like the only value for these women is a female subjectivity–a very specific white, middle-class, youthful subjectivity, at that–I continue to search for another paradigm under which to describe their contributions to pop music.  While I do think they are important, I’m not sure it’s an hour-and-a-half, easily encapsulated kind of important.  It might just be one of those Rock 202 discussions, rather than Rock 101.

Tune in next week, for the next installment of “Rock History, What I Leave Out”: Queen!

A Brief Diversion into Politics

As Gustav is landing today, I don’t feel much like writing about music.  My family lives in Baton Rouge; I have many friends in New Orleans.  And, while I’m certain that they’re out of the direct path of the storm and will be OK, I’m still pissed by a few non-weather related things.

1.  President Bush is looking “responsible” from… San Antonio!  Yes, Texas, that state to which people were NOT evacuated, since the hurricane was moving northwest.  The contraflow was directed north and east (i.e. the traffic on each Interstate highway moves in only one direction, away from the storm).  If he’s shown with “refugees,” know that they are probably fake.

2.  Bush and Cheney aren’t speaking tonight at the Republican Convention.  Yeah, some people think that having a party while others are suffering the effects of a hurricane would be bad.  And I agree.  But wouldn’t it show a little bit of responsibility to say, “Hey, we fucked that last one up big time.  But here’s what we’re doing this time.”  Actually, since I can’t stand the current administration, I doubt I’d really want that–it might play well in middle America.

3.  John McCain visited with high-powered politicos in the Gulf region, including Mississippi’s Gov. Haley Barbour, looking like he was concerned and connected, very “presidential.”  But, seriously, given that both Louisiana and Mississippi have Republican governors, who were completely willing to play Katrina for politics in order to get elected (Louisiana’s Bobby Jindal) or get money for family members (Haley Barbour), why on earth would they even deign to meet with Barack Obama?  If it truly is a “This is a time when we have to do away with our party politics, and we have to act as Americans,” as McCain said, then why play only with the pal who used to be the head of the Republican National Committee?  Why not visit with C. Ray Nagin, the democratic mayor of New Orleans?  Why turn the hurricane into a political event?

P.S. For more on how much of a douche Haley Barbour is, check out how he denied a pardon for a now-deceased, wrongfully imprisoned civil rights advocate.