Que? How can this jive novice even qualify for the Nobel Peace Prize? What were they thinking??
Well, from outside the US it's easy to see; Obama has changed the world. Less than a year ago it was smothered in the clutches of a boffin-headed doughboy from Wyoming and an ignoramus whose only claim to leadership was his pedigree. Bush and Cheney pushed all of us to the abyss. From where I sit in Hong Kong, the rump of China, the world looks and feels a hell of a lot better than it did only 11 months ago. The fact is, Obama's tone and efforts to roll-back the reactionary, fear-based diplomacy and policies of the last 8 years are well worth recognizing with a Nobel.
Pundits are already doing everything they can to turn winning into losing and are undermining this achievement. They can't recognize the transformation because they're too busy reporting on death-panels and Iranian nukes to notice the ground beneath their puny feet has shifted. These jerks don't know what a good thing they've got.
Sure, Obama has given a lot of speeches, said a lot of words. But a speech is more than words when the most powerful man in the known universe delivers it. His speeches in Prague, Cairo, Accra, and in the United Nations Security Council were bold actions that cost him political points domestically (such is the pathetic state of affairs in the US). They moved people in ways that bombs, bullets or a dynasties will never. Obama has steered spaceship earth back on course. And that takes more than words - it takes action, it takes hope.
"I see this prize as an endorsement of his extraordinary reorientation of world politics, and as an encouragement to see it through. In the midst of our domestic battles, and their ill-temper (from which I have not been immune lately), this is an attempt to tell us: look up for a moment, see how far we've come in pivoting away from global conflict, and give this man a break for his efforts and the massive burden he now bears.
And, in the darkness that still threatens, know hope."
Why do it? Why not simply arrange a tryst on the forest moon of Endor rather than kowtow to the dark side? Has the Force forsaken him?
Okay, I know Obama's meeting with the Dalai Lama has been postponed, but it's the first time since 1991 that he's come to Washington and not met with the president. He even has the best interests of the US at heart, as well - about the huge gap between the rich and poor he said:
"This is unhealthy. You have to take it seriously about those less priviledged people. If they can get happier, then the whole American people will get benefit."
And Beijing dimisses him "a wolf in monk's robes"...
The Last Days of the Incas is an absorbing play-by-play account of the Spaniards haphazard conquest of Incas in what is today modern-day Peru. While horses, armor and gunpowder were huge advantages for the conquistadors, the Incas mounted an effective and deadly counter insurgency and that was responsible for claiming many lives.
It's a captivating read that upsets many assumptions about the conquest. During the first few years the Spanish were bickering among themselves and almost divided the empire while Manco Inca, the emperor, was attempting to push them into the sea.
Forget Bob Dylan. Victor Jara was the Che Guevara of folk music. He lived and died as a revolutionary, a Chilean musician who articulated the aspirations of his country's people in simple and elegant songs. An Unfinished Song by his widow Joan Jara, is a moving account of their lives together during the turbulent 60s, the rise of Salvador Allende's Popular Unity government, and Victor's death in September 1973 as a victim of Pinochet's murderous coup.
When we were in Santiago this past summer we visited the Victor Jara Foundation on the Plaza Brazil and met some of the volunteers who run it. The cops had just raided the premises in an apparent mistake and the volunteers were organizing a concert in protest. "Requiem For Victor Jara" was painted in 1973 by the German artist, Wolfgang Mattheur.
Victor was also a distinguished director, playwright and actor. He brought new forms to Chilean drama and incorporated folk elements from indigenous peoples such as the Mapuche, based in the central and southern parts of the country. Today is Victor's birthday - he would have been 77. His "canto libre" (free song) still lives on...
We run the gauntlet
Must get to France
So we can French kiss some French girls
- Wet Hair
The Japandroids are an incendiary duo hailing from East Van in the Great White North. It's all about the attack with these boys - an absolute Who-like abandon sets them apart from other noisemakers. Like the Black Keys, the Japandroids (JPNDRDS) are made up of only drums and guitar but on Post-Nothing, their first full length release from Unfamiliar/Polyvinyl records, the touchstone isn't the blooz - it's pure euphoria. Here's "Young Hearts Spark Fire:"
"Writing about music is like dancing about architecture - it's a really stupid thing to want to do." – Elvis Costello
I have to agree with Elvis: music, like sex, is always better done than said. And dancing about architecture is a really stupid thing to want to do - dancing with furniture is way more sensible. In those moments when you’re left alone with nothing but an air-guitar, stupid things can start to look pretty interesting...even fun. Sometimes the only option is to indulge, get down and do the mother popcorn with the livingroom chair.
So, with the intention of having some fun I'm going to write about a few albums that have caused me to get up and dance like a fool with the furniture in my room...albums that have yanked the "gabba, gabba, hey" from my guts and rocked my world.
First up, Astral Weeks by Van Morrison (1968), an album that evokes the joy of a sunny day by the water- intense, breezy and alive with possibilities.
From the far side of the ocean If I put the wheels in motion
Like a Celtic Sufi in the throes of a whirling trance, Van channels the spirits of Solomon Burke and Chester "Howlin' Wolf' Burnett on this, his first complete studio album. The jazz-inflected percussion of "The Way Young Lovers Do", and the fluttering, hummingbird strum of "Sweet Thing" combine to create the perfect fusion of pop, jazz, folk and soul. Nothing before or since has sounded quite like it and amid all the music something intrinsically Irish emerges:
We strolled through fields all wet with rain And back along the lane again
A friend and I followed the sound to Ireland, busking from Belfast to Cork. In Sligo we got billed as "The Men Who Drank Canada Dry". Very soon after we became "The Men Who Ireland Sucked Dry".
Next up, Survival by Bob Marley and the Wailers (1979). This is the culmination and most consistent articulation of Natty Dread's career. Marley fuses the smooth soul of Curtis Mayfield to Haile Selassie's vision of racial harmony and delivers a sonic proclamation about liberation and independence.
Tracks like "Africa Unite", "One Drop" and "Zimbabwe" were said to inspire the birth of a nation and Marley did play at the Zimbabwe's Independence Day Celebrations in April of 1980, the last time the British Flag flew over Africa:
Africans a-liberate Zimbabwe Every man gotta right to decide his own destiny
Holding it all together as always, is bassist Aston "Family Man" Barrett's ganja-rasta-riddim making this one of the greatest reggae albums ever produced.
I’ve got a confession to make- I've got a crush on a guy. But it isn't carnal, it's all about the spiritus mundi, as Sting once sang. This should come as no surprise to most guys; hetro or not, we all harbor affections for certain members of our own sex. There’s a name for this - hetro-gay.
One guy occupies a special place in the firmament. He's a Cosmo type, sophisticated and sensitive - a real charmer. And most of all, he's not afraid to let his feelings show. It's Jonathan Richman.
Jonathan - Jojo for those in the know - inhabits a mysterious realm. Like Boo Radley, another outsider, his influence is benign, but largely unknown.
If The Modern Lovers was Jonathan's sole legacy his place among pop’s immortals would be secure. Like a first love it cuts the deepest and his later work never quite recaptures its magic or intensity. The album's defining characteristic is its unabashed amateurism – the opening call of "1-2-3-4-5-6!" saying it all.
In fact, by the time the album was released Jonathan was shying away from music that, according to him, could hurt a baby's ears. He was a geek who reveled in his geekness long before it became cool to do so, long before spazzes like the guy from Weezer or Wes Anderson's films made geek chic.
Suspended in time like an urban Peter Pan, Jonathan endures. One music writer has called him "the Jimmy Stewart of rock and roll" but this seems too cumbersome, too earnest. Jonathan wasn't bent on doing the right thing - he was bent on having fun.
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