МЛН

December 2013
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Macaulay Culkin Has A Pizza-Centric Velvet Underground Tribute Band



Image for Macaulay Culkin Has A Pizza-Centric Velvet Underground Tribute Band

Macaulay Culkin, the adorable former child actor from Home Alone, is staging an artistic comeback with his all-pizza-related Velvet Underground tribute band. Originally dubbed The Pizza Underground, the New York band have just released their nine-a-piece, extra-cheesy debut album.
The delicious record features hit singles Pizza Day, I’m Waiting for Delivery Man, and in honour ofLou Reed’s solo material, Take a Bite of the Wild Slice. Culkin recorded the album with fellow band members Matt Colbourn, Phoebe Kreutz, Deenah Vollmer and Austin Kilham at his house in November.
SidewalkNY reports that the band recently played an open mic night in New York City, where they used a (clean) pizza box for percussion. Culkin was responsible for the vocals and the kazoo.
Culkin has recently been working with Pete Doherty and Devendra Banhart on a short film directed by The Moldy Peaches‘ Adam Green, inspired by the drug ketamine. The movie, The Wrong Ferrari, has been descibed as a “screwball tragedy” and was shot entirely on an iPhone.
Listen to The Pizza Underground’s demo medley:
Visit the Pizza Underground’s Facebook page for up to date band information and details about the band’s side project L.A. Boobs.

2013: Appropriating a 2013
(Nu.wav) hallucinations of an irretrievable past


Everyone’s 2013 was different. Yes, this would appear to be an incredibly obvious statement to make, but it’s not meant as a patronizing allusion to subjectivity and the tendency of individuals to perceive the same object divergently. No, it was intended as a denial, namely of the idea that there was a “same object” that we could all mutually gawp at and consume as one happy global family. That’s right, the implication here is that there wasn’t a or the 2013, but rather a multitude of them, a macrocosm of rivals and counterparts that all confusingly went by the same numeral.
This assertion probably sounds either crazy or just plain stupid, so before someone gets institutionalized, it might be helpful to elaborate. The key here is that, in an increasingly digitized, computerized, and archived world, people (by which is specifically meant musicians) have an ever-growing access to past social and cultural artifacts. Because of the internet and its seemingly inexorable co-optation of everything we’ve ever done, artists can now selectively retrieve and experience a plethora of age-old music, films, and books to a greater extent than ever before, with the consequence being that they’ve come to piece together their own highly personal and idiosyncratic timeline of influences, and that their (sense of) history has almost drastically splintered away from everyone else’s. And because a year is — at least in part — defined and constituted by its position within a sequence, by the years that preceded it and brought it into being by transforming into it, one musician’s 2013 was therefore fundamentally different on a conceptual level from another’s, since each was in essence a temporal construct derived from antecedents not shared by others.
Which means that any attempt to pinpoint the year in music, to reduce it to any one theme or trend is severely undermined from the beginning. As remarked many, many times in the past here and elsewhere, genres, subgenres, and microgenres are now so multifarious that it’s becoming frustratingly difficult to uncover traits they all share in common, and ergo it’s becoming ever unlikely that one of us will summarize a whole year in a nice, pithy sentence or two. This may be a vague source of dejection for someone craving an indication of where “music” is going, but before this overview gets way too abstract for its own good, the topic of accelerating historical personalization does point toward one phenomena that infiltrated a significant portion of 2013’s output. To be more precise, this was the appropriation of the past, that is, the often overt and unashamed usage of material written and recorded many years ago, a practice no doubt aided by the information explosion invoked above. Some of this expropriation was subtle to the point of being nearly intangible (e.g. Bill Orcutt’s excellent A History of Every One), while some of it was so unsubtle that, somewhat paradoxically, it was no less intangible as far as deciphering its intent and significance was concerned (e.g. LAMPGOD & **Ł_RD//$M$’s**$EXT8PE).
But whatever the precise degree of transparency, this practice of more or less explicitly lifting aging material reached a new excess in 2013, and it’s something that warrants further analysis, because it is, at one and the same time, a method by which musicians are attempting to renegotiate and re-establish their connection to a fragmented past, and one of the main reasons why this past is already so fractured, why their aggregated history has been dissected into an innumerable set of estranged, unrelated narratives.
Against this observation, it might be regurgitated that artists have always been extracting past tropes and reworking them to resonate with their present, and it could even be argued that art itself embodies nothing if not an elaborate attempt to transform history and biography into something more positive, edifying, or salutary, into the Hegelian transcendence of itself. Moreover, concerted, even politicized appropriationism has roots delving at least as deep as the early 20th century. For example, in 1906 the Hungarians Bela Bartók and Zoltán Kodály began their first forays into ethnomusicology, compiling the Slovakian, Romanian, and Hungarian folk songs they would later blend with a strain of modernism inspired by such pioneers as Schoenberg and Debussy (who himself had siphoned elements of Indonesian gamelan into his “own” works). Classical music would continue to break ground for annexation well into the 50s and 60s, with the emergence of magnetic tape and its scope for manipulation falling into the grubby hands of John Cage, Terry Riley, and Steve Reich, to name only a few. Reich’s It’s Gonna Rain (1965) looped and consequently mangled a street preacher’s agitated barking of its titular phrase with much the same lack of restraint that clipping. would later show toward their “Get money” in this year’s “Outro,” a parallel that would seem to imply that even appropriation itself has been appropriated by a new generation.
So, clearly the basic technique of reusing and reinterpreting the already-recorded is nothing new, and it has been utilized in pretty much every decade up to the present day (as seen with the development of hip-hop in the late 70s and 80s, and with, say, Negativland’s infamous 1991 EP U2, which ridiculed and tortured “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” to lawsuit-provoking heights). But in 2013, it’s deployment attained its own particular character, with a more than incremental differentiation in how certain performers incorporated their inspirations, influences, and source material into their compositions. Whereas the tactful, possibly deferential approach of yesteryears had bands and producers largely employing the groundwork of their forebears with subtlety, the likes of Dean Blunt, SAINT PEPSI, D/P/I, or LAMPGOD & **L_RD//$M$ are much more barefaced and indelicate, and yet somehow they generally come across as much less derivative than many acts who sink no further than using a pre-existing style (rather than ripping entire melodies, phrases, or vocals) as a point of departure for their own “original” work. And in contradistinction to 2012 and 2011, when vaporwave drafted anonymous muzak and consumer jingles into its antiseptic collages, 2013 was marked by those who were hard-boiled enough to requisition the already well-known and famous.
“A good composer does not imitate, he steals.”
– Igor Stravinsky
Or rather, the difference between this passing year and its immediate predecessors is that, while the latter invested the obscure and therefore pretty much meaningless with a peculiarly vitalizing significance, the former hafted a new meaning onto what was — insofar as it was already part of some musically-focused collective consciousness — already meaningful. This implies that when Dean Blunt pilfered the Spring Round Dances from Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring and built “VI” around it, he didn’t simply make use of orchestration that would best evoke a certain austerity, but also transplanted the score into a novel context, transfigured its connotations, and therefore irreversibly augmented or even sullied its meaning for those who may have known it in a “purer” or less mediated form. It’s for this very reason that the whole phenomenon should be called appropriation — not so much because it’s the theft of a composer’s or songwriter’s intellectual property, but because it’s the “theft” (or recalibration) of a song’s very resonance and import, because it potentially deprives others of the particular value they once gleaned from a piece of music. And this denial and frustration of semantics is a much more radical form of larceny than its simpler cousin, because whereas plagiarism can be rectified by the simple reattribution of credit and profits, the subtle or not-so subtle mutation of your relation to a work, or alternatively the mutation of its sense and reference, is much more stubborn in its resistance to correction.
From Dean Blunt’s Brixton 28s show at Hackney’s SPACE gallery
And for someone who isn’t a DJ or producer, Dean Blunt seemed to be engaging in this breed of kleptomania an awful lot this year, although we can only speculate as to the conscious or subconscious motivations. Without trying to be exhaustive, both The Redeemer and Stone Island featured recasts and re-situations of the likes of “All My Life” by K-Ci & JoJo (“I Run New York”), “Victory” by Puff Daddy and “Oh Daddy” by Fleetwood Mac (“The Redeemer,” which also borrows the “Wake up, wake up” riff from Bobby Womack’s “Get A Life”), and also Kate Bush’s “Sat in Your Lap” (“Demons”). It’s therefore pretty safe to say that arrogation — at least this year — is one of the defining and essential characteristics of Blunt’s work, but the question remains as to why. Perhaps it’s simply a brash foregrounding of intertextuality, of the fact that the significance of an album or song will be as much determined by the works that preceded it — as well as other extrinsic factors — as it will by its own intrinsic form, to such an extent that these works become indissoluble from that very same form. This claim has something going for it, and surely it will become more relevant with every passing year and every new welter of artists that gets added to those memory banks that ultimately decide on an emerging musician’s identity. Yet things may be sinking deeper with Blunt, in that his miniature heists — insofar as they center around episodes of his own life — could be regarded as a postmodern nod to how information overload and the unrelenting pervasiveness of culture often dictate that he can’t conceptualize and even pursue that life except through the prisms of the music, cinema, television, literature, and social media that now jostle themselves into so many of his waking moments. Hence, the music that speaks his life comes pre-threaded with the abovementioned samples, since that life may — in certain extreme cases — be little more than a secondary phenomenon of the latter.
“We thought sampling was just another way of arranging sounds.”
– Chuck D
From here, it’s a single step to the view that Blunt’s anachronistic appropriations are veiled acts of revenge, a mirrored retaliation for music and art having already appropriated him and his consciousness. Maybe, but before this becomes one long disquisition on the apparently inexhaustible symbolism of Dean Blunt’s 2013, it might be better to develop this train of thought in new company. To this end, another creative who similarly underscored how far you can distort and disfigure the supposedly entrenched meanings of received culture was Alex Koenig, a.k.a. Nmesh, who with his Nu.wav Hallucinations(April) not only extended the metamorphic, defamiliarizing treatment to “Back to Life” (Soul II Soul), “Can’t Let Go” (Mariah Carey) and “Two Tribes,” but also highlighted the extent to which the year’s growth of an appropriative ethos is in many cases simply a logical extension of vaporwave into more popular domains, an extension that from one perspective is a cultivation of the ideas that were outlined by the Eccojams of Chuck Person (a.k.a. Daniel Lopatin) in 2010 but circumvented by the ‘wave anti-auteurs of 2011 and 2012.
Relocated from the kitsch, esoteric, and unfashionable, this new focus is in many ways more provocative, since by moving from the forgotten to the celebrated, it essentially equates the variably sacred cows of rock and pop with the invariably profane rats of muzak et al., with insubstantial and ephemeral silage forged purely to generate short-term profit, numb critical thinking, and therefore dislocate people from their world. And this brusque extraction and exploitation of such cows by Nu.wav Hallucinations is perhaps intended to emphasize how easily they can be diluted and lowered to the same level as disposable fluff, and therefore how lacking they are in an entrenched “meaning,” in a stable essence or substrate that might have prevented them from ever being reconstituted so disconcertingly.
Moving along these same lines are LAMPGOD & **L_RD//$M$. Via their **$EXT8PE (July) the duo spliced fragments of classic soul and R&B from the 1970s into disorienting, counterintuitive arrangements that subverted the stock denotations of the tracks they plundered, seemingly miring them in insinuations of sleaze and decadence. Many points of comparison could be made between their work and Koenig’s, yet in their case, the inflection, the angle of attack was slightly different. Sure, their collaboration could just as easily be construed as a seamy ode to the pervertibility and corruptibility of popular music, or as a deranged envelopment of the idea that music can “appropriate” and confine us in narrow circles (witness the 15-second iterations during “**CREAMPIE??” of “I Can’t Get Over You” by The Dramatics). But at the same time, their piracy of quasi-historic music, in its ineffectual loops and gauzy detachment, was at bottom an accentuation of the distance that separates us from our past and of the unbridgeable gulf that prevents us from re-entering and re-experiencing that past in any faithful, cohesive, or continuous way.
Their liberations of “You’re Welcome, Stop On By” by Bobby Womack and“Inseparable” by Natalie Cole were almost surreal in their abstraction and incongruity, and it was precisely this surrealism and incongruity that marked the incompatibility of the past with the present, that marked the first as irremediably incomprehensible, inaccessible, and alien to the second. Taking this premise to its very limits, their burglaries hint at the futility of both historical consistency and history itself, thereby returning this digression to the opening postulation that any attempt to situate 2013 on a single, definite, and definitive chronology is jeopardized from the very beginning, since the events that precede the year are in many respects unknowable and therefore resistant to an authoritative conceptualization that might peg them to a meaningful sequence.
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The same could be said for SAINT PEPSI and his HIT VIBES (among five other albums he finished this year), which in May filtered such luminaries as Rose Royce, Live Band, and The Whispers through a backward-looking compressor, in the process discoloring them in an unnatural, over-idealized light that betrayed the artificiality of any attempt to revive and reconnect with their onetime substance. And in many cases, it’s arguable that 2013’s heightened wave of appropriation was the sum of various efforts to reestablish such a continuity with a past that’s been diffracted and severed by the march of time and technology, by the proliferation of internet-launched musicians and genres ostensibly disconnected from everything — from the localities, venues, scenes, publications, and labels — that came before them. Artists such as SAINT PEPSI strove to resume a certain kind of conversation with their heritage, but through integrating the past into their work, they seemed to leave it behind altogether, owing to how they dismembered it from its particular context, drained it of its former healthy complexion, and finally exposed its disembodied irrelevance to the present.
“Take care of all your memories. For you cannot relive them.”
– Bob Dylan
This discussion of the past slides into concerns that have been metastasizing ever since the beginning of the 21st century and that reached (what hopefully is) a peak/nadir with Simon Reynolds’ Retromania in 2011. The crux of these misgivings is that “our” fixation on the past is suffocating innovation and preventing any of today’s would-be pioneers from producing music/art that is genuinely “new,” or, if nothing else, more than a lazy, knowing, or ironic rehash of its genealogy. Quite apart from its inability to separate aesthetics from wider cultural and socio-political trends1, this kind of argument is weakened by its reluctance to concede that sample-based appropriation is just as legitimate a form of composition as performance-based appropriation, and that it’s potentially just as rich in terms of what it can say and evoke.
Taking only a single example — say, James Ferraro’s “Nushawn” (from October’s NYC, HELL 3:00 AM) — it can easily be pushed that its recombinatory amputation of Bernard Hermann’s Taxi Driver score is not some regressive nostalgia trip, but a signification of any one of several conceivably enlightening things, including the depiction of a transition between two conflictual states of mind, an attempt to bare the glitchy sparsity underlying all solemn consciousness, a stark rendering of the subjectivity of perception/conception, or maybe a blunt contrast between two periods of American/NYC history. Aside from these potential interpretations, it’s also clear that the dyadic juxtaposition of (sampled) orchestration with wonky minimalist electronics isn’t so virulently pandemic in stylistic terms that the result is an insipid frame-for-frame recycling of yesterday’s trash. And even when an appropriationist does take a single sample and reproduce it with barely any retouching or re-membering, there’s still every possibility that a new network of sense or a new message emerges.
James Ferraro and the T-1000
We need only return to LAMPGOD & **L_RD//$M$ for evidence of this. From a purely formal perspective, their “**ATM??” indulges in a minute-and-a-half rerunning of the 10-second romantic motif from Tim Maia’s “Azul da Cor do Mar”(1970), yet from a wider angle, much more is going on than a simple reapplication of whatever emotional currency Maia and his collaborators had worked hard to accumulate. One overlooked aspect of this song, the **$$EXT8PE album as a whole, and of blanket-appropriationism in general is that it performs the same kind of transformative denuding and demystification of music that the notoriety of Duchampian readymades and anti-art did for the institutionalized artwork. “**ATM??” and its ilk question the assumption that a song is identical to its compositional structure, that a piece of music is coextensive with sounds and sounds alone. They attempt to replace this received wisdom with an estimation of a record as a contextually-dependent entity, as only one component in a dynamic or relationship between the individual and her present circumstances.
In other words, a record is a function from context to emotion, and simply by repackaging it in sexual imagery — by doing nothing more than altering the alleged “supplement” that is in fact essential to its identity — LAMPGOD & **L_RD//$M$ indecorously exhibit how easily it can be changed into something else, and how perfect or wholesale plagiarism is perhaps an impossibility. Indeed, appropriation could even go further in its figurative ramifications, in that its all-too blatant exaggeration of the indebtedness inherent to the creative act is yet one more denial of the authority, genius, and originality of the individual author, one more swipe at the idea that an author is anything more than an emasculated worker of systemically pre-given forms and invoker of systemically pre-determined contents.
And once again, the main crime perpetrated by this form of brazen appropriation isn’t the seizure of intellectual property (as it primarily was with, say, the theft of African American music that aided and abetted the creation of folk and rock), but rather the destruction of comforting images and notions, most of which all return to considerations of the past and of how elements of that past are either still alive or can be resuscitated in the 21st century. The zeitgeists of former decades — the moods, mores, morals, attitudes, and experiences — have been lost forever, and at best artists can only use such eras as the symbols of their own disappearance and, conversely, as kitsch stylizations of present-day conceptions of how things might be alleviated for ourselves here and now. And to a certain extent, this apprehension was present in other releases that, although they didn’t engage in the renegade iconoclasm of the above, nonetheless built their work around a liberal soaking up of pre-existing records.

One of the shining examples of this was Andrew Pekler’s Cover Versions2, a garbled rejuvenation of long-lost exotica and Easy Listening that, while underlining the empty space between us and the past, demonstrated just how radical that past could be as a launchpad if only we’d stop trying to recreate it piece for piece. Another album that farmed similarly progressive terrain was Ahnnu’s World Music (September), which converted a diversity of neglected hip-hop, soul, and jazz relics from multiple decades into cosmopolitan organisms that erased any inkling of the scrounging that’d birthed them. Both of these albums were sample-centric, yet it would actually be unfair to use the term “appropriation” to describe what they do, since for the most part, they completely reform their grave-dug bones into unrecognizable skeletons, illuminating the possibility that the only authentic relationship with the past is the one that drastically remodels it into its own future. And perhaps — in opposition to everything that’s been said up to this point — a track like Ahnnu’s “Shame,” with its stop-start refitting of drowsy lounge, is what appropriation fundamentally is: a creativity that instigates and perpetuates temporality itself, that reconfigures extant space and matter into a new set of coordinates that we demarcate from its predecessor using such terms as “past” and “present.”
But this is too general and obvious an encapsulation to conclude with, and it’s also one that does nothing to distinguish 2013 from everything that flowed into it. What’s more specific to our age, however, is another interpretation, applying to pretty much every album that abducted any portion of its hooks and sounds from dormant repositories, from Hit Vibes to Cover Versions to Fresh Roses (September) by D/P/I and MIXTAP3 (November) by 18+. It’s that appropriation in its present form is the complement to and inevitable corollary of the virtually communal status of music in the internet age, where an increasing number of people regard a song or album as common property, as something they have a right to hear and even to own without going through the usual rigamarole of symbolically or financially acknowledging the labors of the artists they patronize. Appropriation is therefore what occurs when this mindset is transferred to the artists themselves, who at some point in the creative process must surely reason that, if the public are obtaining their creations for nothing, then they should be able to assume a similarly cavalier attitude towards music that’s already made more money than they could ever imagine.
So finally, the conclusion to be drawn out of this is that the upsurge in appropriation this year is broadly a lagging recognition of how music itself has been appropriated, demoted as both a commodity with a monetary value and as a cultural artifact with a semi-hallowed social value. It now belongs to no one and everyone, and therefore it’s no surprise that musicians spent much of the particular 2013 I’ve selectively remembered fessing up to this communism in their work.
1. An assertion that recurs throughout Retromania is that the 21st century, while replete with plenty of micro- and sub-genres, has signally failed to produce any “mega-genres” (p. 408). The examples given of such mega-genres include punk, hip-hop, (’60s) psychedelia, and rave, and Reynolds supports his account by invoking how such styles were imbued with a sense of direction, teleology, and purpose, as opposed to being backwards-looking (pp. 403, 424). What he doesn’t explore in any particular detail, however, is why the influences, derivations, and adopted components of the so-called mini-genres should be foregrounded and scrutinized, while those of the more worthy genres he cites should be backgrounded, glossed over in such a way as to suggest that post-punk or new wave, for example, were sui generis phenomena. The reason for this biased oversight is that Reynolds repeatedly conflates the novelty of a genre with the novelty of the fashion, culture, and politico-social attitudes that surrounded it, prioritizing those genres that either helped instigate popular fads in youth culture (i.e., that modified the particular form through which the young inconsequentially expressed their ambivalence towards adulthood and civilization) or were the parasitic symbols of genuine social and political change (i.e., flower-power psychedelia). Because punk, for instance, was on the forefront of a certain shift in how thousands and possibly millions of chinless wonders identified and socialized themselves, he seems to assume that this saves it from being little more than a “micro-genre” or offshoot of the garage rock of the late 60s and early 70s. Conversely, he denies the sub- and micro-genres of the 21st century the status as full-fledged aesthetics primarily because they aren’t attached to or associated with any mainstream or large-scale social craze. But this absence of such bandwagons is more a product of economics, commerce, and technology, of increasing individualism and social division, than it is of the abrupt disappearance of the human capacity to create, fuse, evolve, or bastardize. So, in sum, Retromania is more about sociology than it is about present-day music.
2. Cover Versions was actually released in Dec 2012, but I’ll attempt to justify this by pointing out that, at the time of writing, this was less than 12 months ago.

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