Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Thank You, Pete Seeger

"THIS MACHINE SURROUNDS HATE & FORCES IT TO SURRENDER"
-- Pete Seeger's banjo head inscription.

What would the music world-- what would the world in sum-- look like, had it not been for Pete Seeger? He ran in folk circles during and after WWII; he used the clout of his recording catalog and his recognition as one of the entertainment industry's first authentic "celebrities," to try and change political, social, and economic structures; he entertained and criticized political leaders and parties, marched as part of the Civil Rights Movement in the 1960s, and in the streets of New York City, in support of the Occupy Movement in October, 2011. Were it not for the popularity of his 1948 instructional book "How to Play the 5-String Banjo," American folk music-- and the power to express one's political and social criticism in song-- may have never come to exist.

Pete Seeger, with one of the many folk artists he mentored. 


Seeger was 17 when he joined the Young Communist League; a few years later, he joined the Communist Party USA. The rhetoric of his songs in the run-up to World War II (lyric: "It would be much of a thrill/to die for DuPont in Brazil") drew the attention of Eleanor Roosevelt, who played his record for her husband, whose only comment was said to be that very few people would ever hear the record anyway. In 1957, Seeger refused to testify before the House Committee on Un-American Activities: "I am not going to answer any questions as to my association, my philosophical or religious beliefs or my political beliefs, or how I voted in any election, or any of these private affairs. I think these are very improper questions for any American to be asked, especially under such compulsion as this." He was found guilty of contempt, and sentenced to ten years in prison-- but the ruling was overturned in 1962. He found a rhetorical partner in Moe Asch, founder of the postwar 'grassroots' label Folkways; at the peak of his production, Seeger recorded five albums a year for release through Folkways.


Because of the rhetorical capabilities of sound recording technology, the legacy of a musician extends far beyond the grave. And, the availability of another's sound recordings has made drawing connections between artists-- who has influenced who, lyrically and musically-- far more difficult than in the ancient days of troubadours, of sheet music, and of vaudeville and stage shows. Almost seventy years after his songs of protest gained the attention of the Roosevelts, Pete Seeger performed alongside Bruce Springsteen at President Obama's inaugural celebration in 2009 (The Boss' 2006 album was a collection of folk numbers performed in Seeger's style; The Seeger Sessions actually contained no songs written by Seeger). A birthday celebration concert in 2011 in New York City; a number of tribute albums released; the whole of Asch's Folkways catalog  carefully archived and re-released through Smithsonian Folkways recordings: Pete Seeger lived long enough to see his first critics dissipate and new critics rise, lived long enough to see the development of the rhetorical public sphere (from radio to television to the jumble of media feeds we have today). Unlike so many his age, Seeger was an active user of Twitter (@Peter_Seeger)-- for not only the promotion of his music, but of his political views, constructive criticism, and human, if virtual, connection. On December 17, he posted: "I'm convinced that it's impossible to have education without controversy. People who think that's false will find themselves trapped."


Seeger and friends in New York City, October 2011.

On the eve of the first non-white American President's third-to-last State of the Union address, the passing of Pete Seeger should serve as a challenge to citizens: to always stand up for what you know to be right, and to not hesitate to share one's gifts with one another. Pete Seeger lived a rich and full life, long enough to have not only helped define an important genre of American music, but to have participated in our new networks of communication and media. "I have sung in hobo jungles," Seeger's Twitter profile states, "and I have sung for the Rockefellers, and I am proud that I have never refused to sing for anybody."

Saturday, January 25, 2014

A Few Should-Be Winners at the 2014 Grammys



 
The 2014 Grammys will be the usual glitz and glitter, from a corporate industry still fighting piracy, and still obsessed with celebrity: Madonna, it is rumored, will be taught how to twerk live and onstage, by some young pop minion half her age. Paul and Ringo ("peace and love/peace and love!") will needlessly reunite, in celebration of their arrival in the states fifty years hence. I don't necessarily keep current with the constant stream of Billboard's Top 10 hits (weekly, I'll give such FM stations a few hours' shot). I might be neglecting something great that's nominated, and that I haven't heard, so I'll refrain here from bestowing any Grammys, or making any comparative declarations-- but the few items I mention are worthy of recognition, if not tomorrow night, at least here.

 

The first is Daft Punk's Random Access Memories. A spectacular disco-driven affair driven and orchestrated by the French duo Guy-Manuel Homem-Christo and Thomas Bangalter, the jams get kicked out in tracelike fashion, combing choppy electronics with smooth, melodic and appropriate vocoder vocals, glistening above and around a fascinatingly sparse mix. The angular jams may be too long for some-- but not many these days, as the opus fits neatly into the biggest modern pop niches, namely electronic/dance, and three-chord rock. Either crowd can its get its groove on to what is, in physical format, four sides of vinyl (which was one of the biggest hits the limited-release vinyl market has seen in decades). When I was in college, our standby party soundtrack was the Beastie Boys' instrumental In Sound From Way Out, which had not yet been officially released in the states, and rivaled in funk anything any of us had ever heard; if I were beginning my undergraduate adventure today, this Daft Punk album would likely be my go-to, all-purpose jam, the one I'd be running around the dorm, turning people on to.


The other is the song "Royals," written by Joel Little and Lorde (Ella Yelich O'Connor), and made popular by the young Auckland singer/songwriter's simple, almost-acoustic version. Previously, Alanis Morrisette's "You Oughta Know" held the record, for the longest run at the top of the Billboard Alternative chart by a woman; Lorde's melody of economic struggle now holds that honor. The chorus contains a call-and-response repetition of the word "royals" that, every time I hear it, reminds me of 'The People's Mic,' as used in Zucotti Park, and elsewhere. "We'll never be royals [...] And everyone who knows us knows that we're fine with this, we didn't come from money." This song is not only beautifully simple, but important: as economic collapse and repeated government stalemate drives public figures-- from Pope Francis to world leaders to the American mass media punditry-- to discuss how it may be in businesses' best interests, to not simply seek the accumulation and hoarding of profits (as many allege that ASCAP and other music industry titans still do).  

Friday, January 17, 2014

Greed Is Good v3.0: The Wolf of Wall Street

It took David Chase four-- debatably, five-- seasons of The Sopranos, to drag us along through the tragic decline that was Christopher Moltisanti's battle with heroin addiction. In season two, a stock market "pump and dump" scheme becomes the family's latest enterprise, and Moltisanti takes the lead-- though his substance use, and perhaps his mental capacity, keeps him from understanding exactly what's taking place in the office he leads. Later in season two, Moltisanti hits "rock bottom," having his car stolen while he's trying to score heroin; by the season's close, the office is empty, the Webistics scheme having run its course.
Christopher Moltisanti, stockbroker.

There is no "rock bottom" for the character of Jordan Belfort, in Martin Scorcese's The Wolf of Wall Street, in terms of substance use, but also in terms of what he'll do for the benefit of his own hide. The film is gloriously excessive, so graphic and repugnant as to make the oft-referenced opening scenes of Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange look tame, the stuff of comic book fantasy. DiCaprio as Belfort has created one of the greatest villains in the history of American cinema.

Move over, Alex-- there's a new ultra-violence to be had.
The gluttonous tale is told in just under three hours, and Scorcese does well in making every minute count. A keen structural choice-- telling Belfort's arrival and early days in retrospect-- allows for storytelling at lower stakes; the second half of the film accelerates as Belfort's greed, reckless abandon, and obsession with Quaaludes and cocaine lead him to savage just about everything in his life: his boat, his marriages, his relationship with his children, his home, his partnerships. From his first day on the job, it is obvious that Belfort is smitten with the challenge of cold-calling the unsuspecting, and with the illegal deals made by other traders. Scorcese's storytelling is especially well-done during these early chapters; the second half takes the viewer on a frenzied first-person ride, as Belfort loses his grip. An especially great scene is Belfort's first day on the job, at a "pink sheet" stock brokerage firm located in a strip mall on Long Island-- where Belfort shows off his ability to sell anything (or, as he puts it, "selling garbage to garbagemen").
But The Wolf of Wall Street is not merely a morality play; neither good nor evil triumphs. The repercussions of Belfort's egoism are ever-limited, by his excessive (and ill-gotten) wealth. He is uninjured when he, nearly in a stupor, crashes his helicopter; he is unfazed as he, his wife, and guests are rescued from their yacht in a storm at sea; he endangers the life of his daughter late one night by putting her in his car and promptly backing into a wall at his estate, only to suffer a dirty look from their live-in maid; his prison sentence is represented by a brief shot of Belfort on a tennis court. Christopher Moltisanti had to answer to the family patriarch, Tony, and Alex in A Clockwork Orange was forced to atone for his sins through participation in a government program, that sought to fix people like him. But Belfort answers to no one.

To call the film 'Fear and Loathing on Wall Street' would be appropriate, except that Hunter S. Thompson's original mission had nothing to do with an unquenchable lust for inordinate wealth, but rather the opposite. Not even Dr. Thompson could, or would, have destroyed an entire floor of a Las Vegas hotel, as Belfort and company do during his bachelor party weekend, prior to his marriage to his second wife (the weekend cost $2 million). The Wolf of Wall Street does have DiCaprio raising his arms like Rupert Pupkin before an audience of his phone-calling minions, screaming, beating his chest with primal rage-- a few times, I wonder if DiCaprio has started copying facial expressions from Jack Nicholson. Belfort cheers on the daily screwing of the public, via telephone: the world he rapes financially is far from his existence, in and around bullish downtown Manhattan. Belfort's substance use is constant, as he rages on, with the pulse of the brokerage firm constantly thundering in his veins. His original team of brokers consists of the kind of creeps (all but one were drug dealers) that need constant reminding, about not selling heroin along garbage truck routes.
The only magic or mystery to Jordan Belfort, beyond the charm of his (fading) boyish looks, comes in wondering how deeply his selfish streak actually runs: he admits to sleeping with many, many prostitutes; he attempts to bribe an FBI agent; he tries to make out with his second wife's distinguished British aunt; he tries to circumvent his promise of cooperation with the FBI; his drug excesses (especially his fawning over Lemmons, a rare Quaalude no longer produced) are embarrassing; he risks the lives of just about everyone in the film, and no one else comes close to losing control in such a way. No one helps him out, either.


Sorry, Charlie-- DiCaprio's Jordan Belfort
has you beat, many times over. #winning
Before The Wolf of Wall Street, Oliver Stone's Wall Street films may have been some of the best attempts at depicting an obscure and little-known world: of stock brokerages and high-level swindling. Unlike Oliver Stone's Wall Street films, however, the only moral voice in The Wolf of Wall Street is Belfort's first wife, who asks why, if the stock is bad anyway, would you sell it to poor people? Stone's first film used the narrative engine of a father-son relationship, played by Martin and Charlie Sheen, to great effect. Michael Douglas' character of Gordon Gekko would, had he appeared in the film, appeared far more rational, level-headed, and realistic than Belfort or his cronies: an elder stateman from the school of "greed is good," but lacking the tenacity necessary to serve as Belfort's security guard.

Jordan Belfort makes Gordon Gekko
look like he belongs on a Florida golf
course, and nowhere else.
Jordan Belfort is not a character who experiences development or growth, in The Wolf of Wall Street; rather, his life spirals, in a swirl of greed and intoxication. Like Stone's first Wall Street film, Jordan Belfort does consult, and eventually hire, his father, "Mad Max," to serve as a security guard at their brokerage. But as Max questions outrageous bills from a prostitution ring, and expresses his disbelief, he stops short of condemning his son's actions. Not long into the film, Belfort's divorce from his first wife seems inevitable, but happens only after Belfort is caught in the back of a limo, doing cocaine from the breasts of the woman who would become his second wife. The way Belfort seeks to monopolize on his relationships reminded me most of Bob Fosse's film All That Jazz, except that Belfort (unlike Joe Gideon) is totally ethically reprehensible, void of aesthetic or artistic interest or talent, and a total sociopath, moving without abandon, from one cheap thrill to the next. 

B.J. Novak's character of Ryan Howard, from the U.S.
version of The Office, is a rare breed, in that he's much like Jordan
Belfort--if not for having pulled off a meteoric rise to corporate power
and wealth, but for his tenacity and lack of humility, after his fall.


Belfort is a real person, now said to be living in Australia, following a three-year jail sentence for securities and wire fraud; he is at the center of a controversy regarding whether or not he has, or will, stand to make money directly from the release of Scorcese's film. Not having read Belfort's book, the portrait of him in the film is so far from likable that I'm hesitant to spend any money on anything he may profit from. There are no moments in the film in which Belfort displays real skill: he is not especially good with numbers, and the moments in which his over-the-phone salesmanship of junk stock are actually few and far between. He has no skill, only sensation. He has no leadership qualities-- unless you call leadership offering a woman in the office $10,000 to have her head shaved, on a Friday afternoon, to rally the troops and begin the party. Real-life Jordan Belfort's web site peddles his skills, as a motivational speaker and investment consultant, claiming:

"While “Wolf” has its fair share of Hollywood-style exaggeration for entertainment’s sake, one thing is absolutely take-to-the-bank factual: I really ‘did’ crack the code on how to persuade anyone to do anything…and how to teach anyone, regardless of your age, education, or skill level, to be a master sales person, closer, negotiator, online entrepreneur, or speaker in as little as two weeks flat."


 
So what, then, is Scorcese's point, in making The Wolf of Wall Street? Unlike his other films, there is little religious imagery or any journey to faith, no acts of redemption or introspection. If The King of Comedy (1980) can be summed from the scene of Jerry Langford (Lewis) strapped to a chair, held hostage by a strange and seductive Sandra Bernhard-- from which we are to derive a message about our celebrity culture-- The Wolf of Wall Street sees Belfort finally tethered, restrained for the first time in hours, on an airplane, after causing a dangerous commotion (and, calling the pilot "the n-word," according to Benny, Belfort's best friend and himself a total creep). This film is probably meant to unite us, through providing a gross display of a stock broker's total lack of morality: no matter how lavish the "capitalist" party becomes in New York's financial district, it is still not an event any of us would like to be invited to. Wealth corrupts, power corrupts, and Belfort would be an immoral slimeball anyway. If this film to demolish the mysteries of the Wall Street investor class, whose lives and inglorious wealth may be having more of an impact on middle- and lower-class mobility than anybody wants to (or can afford to) admit, The Wolf of Wall Street is timely, its excesses successful. Are we--those not in the highest income brackets-- to recognize Belfort as being one of many, who profiteer all day long, in the intangible business of securities and exchange? A portrait of a 21st century snake oil salesman, the entrepreneur who will 'stop at nothing,' The Wolf of Wall Street is a remarkable and sickening film, giving new understanding to what it means to be "evil" on-screen in the United States. 

Occupy Wall Street protest, Sept. 30, 2011. Investment
bankers threw themselves a champagne reception on
the terrace following the closing bell, to taunt protestors.





Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Inside RCA Studio B, Nashville

The history of RCA Studio B remains an important cultural and musical icon: without the recordings made at Studio B, American popular music would likely sound very different. Built in 1957 by Don Maddox, a Nashville businessman, the facility was leased to RCA, and put under the control of Steve Sholes (the head of RCA's country division) and recording artist and producer Chet Atkins. Regular use of Studio B ended in 1977, following a labor dispute. Purchased by the Curb Family Foundation in 2002, the facility is an operating studio-- the only one in Nashville that offers tours to the public. 

The photos were taken on January 6, 2014, using a Samsung Note 2 or a Nikon D80; none have been digitally retouched or edited. Click on any image, to view a high-res version. While these photos are not watermarked or otherwise tagged, please credit this blog and its author upon re-publication.
Rear entry-- the door Elvis Presley preferred.
Studio B interior, looking towards the control room.
The colored mood lighting was Elvis' idea-- each color is adjustable via its own variac, for noise-free dimming.
Rear studio door.
Marking the vocal 'sweet spot' in the rear of the studio.
 
  Consoles!
Original Studio B Console, on display at the Country Music Hall of Fame.


 
Console [not in use] at RCA Studio B.


Modern Control Room, RCA Studio B. Note that the massive studio monitors in use in the control room today were originally installed in the main room at Studio B!

Microphones!
This mic and podium was set up in Studio D, which was originally intended for recording demos. Note the curved architecture, for sound absorption.
Inside Studio B. Mic booms mounted on the zig-zag side wall.
 
This plate mic was in the front corner of the room, behind the piano and above the control room window.
Speakers!
This speaker was in the room that connected Studio D and Studio B-- the room with the outside entrance that Elvis preferred.
A few guitar amplifiers and a CRT television in Studio D. In the lighted case was a Thorens turntable and a Sony reel-to-reel.
These were the original control room monitors. The pair were located on the floor beside the Hammond organ, beneath the control room window. 
Current in-studio monitors.
Above the control room door, a second door likely leads to the echo chamber, located above Studio B.
Interesting Leslie speaker replacement, in use with the Hammond B3 organ.
Instruments!
A small chime piano in Studio B, heard on many songs.
Tack piano, with Plexiglass front.

The tour guide is standing where Eddy Arnold and many others have stood-- a 'sweet spot' for vocal recording.
Wooden vibes.

Metal vibes.
Hammond B3 organ.
Hammond vibrato circuit detail.

1941 Steinway. Restored in 2013, this piano was Elvis' favorite. Though he always used session musicians, The King may be heard playing this piano, on his version of "You'll Never Walk Alone."
Fender Rhodes beside the Steinway.
 
Tape Machines!
Looking into the control room from Studio B, this tape machine was visible.
This three-track Ampex tape machine was in the front room, along with large black-and-white photographs of famous artists. It contained an amplifier, and a preset program of sound recordings, controlled by the touch screen on the wall. 
This two track machine was also in the front room.
The poster to the tour guide's right depicts every #1 hit recorded by Elvis Presley at RCA Studio B.
Phil and Don Everly. The pair recorded "Kathy's Clown" and "Dream (All I Have to Do)," among others, at RCA Studio B.

Eddie Arnold, Jim Reeves, and the Everly Brothers, all seen at work in RCA Studio B.
For a rundown of gear currently in use at RCA Studio B, click here.

For more history of RCA Studio B in Nashville, visit Scotty Moore's site, recollecting early sessions with Elvis Presley.

RCA Studio B is operated in conjunction with Belmont University's Curb College of Entertainment &  Business. Tours are provided through the Country Music Hall of Fame.