Author: You Hear That?!?

Macklemore & Ryan Lewis

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I’ve been in a funk lately. A writing funk, a general happiness funk… basically I’ve been a walking avatar for a certain James Brown song.

Duke’s Saturday overtime loss to Syracuse — a symphony of raised and dashed hopes — can be blamed for a portion of this malaise, but my blog block dates all the way back to Grammy night. It started with a simple mistake — following along on Twitter. What I saw was as disheartening as it was difficult to detach myself from, this strange and sad parade of cynicism that was chuckle-worthy one minute, homophobic the next, and mean all the way through. I can’t imagine last year was all smiles and kittens, and I enjoyed the jokes about Pharrell’s hat as much as anyone else, but something felt different this time.

One difference is clear — I had an emotional stake in one of the groups that drew the sharpest criticism. I’ve been a fan of Macklemore & Ryan Lewis since October of 2012, when I discovered “Thrift Shop” via Reddit. I loved it for all the reasons listed here. It was fun and clever, with a message that rang true for me (“$50 for a t-shirt…”). Then I heard “Same Love,” and my respect for the duo grew. I think people of the same sex should be able to marry one another, and I saw the group’s participation in the campaign to sway Washington’s referendum on marriage equality as admirable. Doing the right thing. The song never seemed perfect, but it felt profoundly good to me, in the way that certain people or actions strike you as a net positive in/to/for the world. As a result, I watched the duo’s rise in notoriety with glee, like I was watching close friends succeed at the thing they’re most passionate about. Now, I’m watching with despair as their names and music are maligned in all sorts of ways.

I’ve been trying to figure out how to write about this, because there’s a lot to say, and it’s not the easiest subject matter to wade through. Race. Sexual orientation. Cultural appropriation. This is swampy stuff, and I have to admit to feeling a little out of my depth. I don’t have advanced degrees in any related fields, and my familiarity with the term “cultural appropriation” dates only as far back as the release of Miley Cyrus’ “We Can’t Stop” video. I’m also biased in a way that I have to acknowledge and account for. Like Macklemore, I am white, male, straight and strongly in favor of marriage equality. Throw in a fervent love for crate digging at thrift shops and I may be the most biased person in this situation whose name isn’t Ben Haggerty or Ryan Lewis.

That said, there are a few things I have to say or I’ll be mad at myself for not saying them. You can decide how much weight they carry, based on the disclaimers I provided in the previous paragraph. I apologize in advance for how sanctimonious some of them are.

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Robert Ellis

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Robert Ellis

I’m hunkering down to get a bunch of non-bloggy writing done this week, but I wanted to tell you about the A+ album I’ll be listening to while I’m working — Lights From the Chemical Plant by Robert Ellis. NPR’s doing a First Listen right now, which is how I heard about it, and I’d recommend checking it out.

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brb

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MIttenfields

Mrs. YHT and I are Amtrakin’ it up to New York City for the weekend, snow accumulation be damned. (If we see Jay Z, we’ll tell him you said hello.) I’d like to leave y’all with a musical away message that doubles as a show recommendation:

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The Low Branches

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The Low Branches

I can remember the first time I got a recording of a show I’d just witnessed. It was while I was in college — Soulive at the Canal Club. I almost didn’t go — I wasn’t the biggest fan and agreed to go at the last minute, but I loved it. Looking back, as jammy as Soulive may be, that show represented a significant step in my quest to access jazz. I couldn’t believe the dexterity of keys player Neal Evans, who was pulling double-duty by playing synth bass with his left hand. I’ve since learned that this is typical for Soulive, but it seemed incredible to me. I stared at Evans for large chunks of each song, totally awestruck. Focusing on a single player like that has become one of my main techniques for appreciating genres I’m less familiar with, and it worked wonders at that show.

They had CD burners at the merch table, and you could buy a two-disc recording on your way out. $15 bucks, I think. Easy as that. I know (and knew then) that people have been taping shows and trading recordings for ages, but it felt like the future to me. You heard something, then you had it. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that night was the dividing line between two worlds — the world in which I watched and listened to live music without worrying whether I’d see or hear it again, and the world I live in now, wherein I consciously ask myself whether I’m seeing/hearing this concert for the first time or for the last time. I process performances differently if it’s the latter. I try to be more present.

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Isaac Hayes

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Isaac Hayes

A quick epilogue to last week’s J. Clyde post:

I got to see his beat-making operation up close just before Christmas, including his killer record collection. Dude has a lot of records. Thousands. I was especially jealous of his soul collection, despite the fact that I hadn’t heard of half the groups represented. The more obscure something was, the more fun it was to see him walk over, put it on the turntable and drop the needle on the tiny snippet that was sampled in a rap song I’ve heard dozens of times.

He has these relationships tucked away in his brain, but while we listened he told me about an iPhone app that helps neophytes like me make those types of connections. It’s called WhoSampled, and it’s about as much fun as you can have for $2.99 (you can access the same database from your browser for free, FYI). I’ve been using the app more and more lately, and I thought I’d share a quick (unsolicited and unpaid) illustration.

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Karen O

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Karen O

I hadn’t heard Karen O’s “The Moon Song” until news broke that it’d been nominated for a best original song Oscar. I don’t usually get worked up about the Oscars’ music categories, aside from being a bit peeved about Jonny Greenwood getting screwed out of a best original score Oscar back in 2008, so I’m not sure why I was so eager to give “The Moon Song” a listen. But eager I was, and I wasn’t disappointed. What a wonderfully articulated song. It’s small, like a kind gesture or a moment of contentment, yet I don’t doubt that its emotional impact could be huge (can’t really judge that part until I see Her).

As much as I’m enjoying the song, though, I absolutely love this Rolling Stone article on Karen O’s reaction to her nomination. I’d like to take a quick moment to point out my two favorite parts:

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Angel Olsen

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Angel Olsen

I tend to avoid assigning genres to songs and albums. In fact, I almost always enjoy people crapping on the concept of genres. I reveled in the sizable chunk of Doug Nunnally’s interview with The 1975 that dealt with the obsolescence of genre taxonomy, and I got a kick out of Bob Boilen’s recent Question of the Week: “Can you imagine a world without music genres?” NPR’s been on a roll, come to think of it — Ann Powers’ marathon interview with Bruce Springsteen included a nod to the Boss’ 2012 SXSW keynote, which, if you didn’t catch it, was punctuated by the longest and funniest list of genre names you’ll ever hear. (That speech is just plain good for you, I think. I’d recommend watching it at least once a year.)

But I’d like to play devil’s advocate for a second here, because genre-based thinking is key to why I’ve been enjoying Angel Olsen’s new tune “Hi-Five” so much.

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J. Clyde

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J. Clyde

I usually keep my New Year’s resolutions private. That’s partly because they’re usually pretty embarrassing, like “Stop being so awkward when talking to strangers” and “Wear your fun sunglasses more often.” It’s also because saying resolutions out loud (or worse — putting them on the Internet), makes them real. It raises the stakes. You become accountable to someone other than yourself, and that’s risky.

Well there’s one dude I know who doesn’t give a flying fuck.

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Nelly Kate

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Nelly Kate

I’ve dedicated this week to catching y’all up on some of the extra-blog writing I’ve done lately, and there’s one more piece I’d like to share — my recent interview with Nelly Kate.

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