Anybody who knows me will say,“That Bookfraud despises pretentious people,writing,and art. That’s probably why he can’t sit through a ballet,video installations,and ‘Jackass 2.’”
Those people would be right. I hate pretense,for the simple reason that most of the time,I don’t get what the bugger is trying to say,making me look stupid. I’d rather be hit with a sharply hit line drive in the face than look stupid. So I’ll just ignore the whole thing altogether.
Hand-in-hand with pretense goes snobbery. If you don’t understand a work of art,thinks the snob,you must be uncivilized or just plain dumb.
I’ve been cogitating on this ever since I started seeing raves for Joanna Newsom’s “Ys,” a 2006 CD full of long,digressive tracks filled with heavy orchestration,harps and oblique but poetic verse.
Wondering what the fuss was about — “Ys” seemed to be on every “Best of 2006” list out there — I downloaded a couple of tracks.
To say this was difficult to listen to is like saying it’s hard to listen to the screams in a psych ward. Newsom is undeniably talented with the harp,but her compositions head towards atonal,her lyrics are digressive,and she has a voice that sounds as if it was born from the unholy union of Kate Bush and a hillbilly. It’s like listening to Schoenberg while a train screeches to a stop.
It’s pretense personified. Only snobs (i.e. critics) could get into this crap.
Ah,but you’ve probably spotted my hypocrisy. Only someone who is a snob would even mention Schoenberg (see extremely constipated-looking man,below),and only a person with amazing pretense would even compare Newsom to a classically trained composer. That’s my weakness. When it comes to music,I’m a snob. And I hate myself for it.
Twelve tones and 1,000 broken eardrums
I was one of those insufferable teenage boys who defined his friends by what graced their turntables. If you hated The Beatles,the Stones,Dylan,or the Clash,I probably would not have been your friend. You just didn’t have taste.
This snobbery got worse through college,as I learned more about music,proving that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. I went so far as to write embarrassing letters to friends why they had to listen to the DKs and surrounding oneself with bad music was a living death.
As I expanded my horizons,my sense of superiority grew with it. You don’t like Coltrane? You don’t even own any Coltrane? Or even any Charlie Parker,Lionel Hampton,or Dizzy Gillespie? You troglodyte!
But it wasn’t until started going to the symphony in my mid-20s that my snootiness grew completely out of control. I signed up for a concert subscription,bought CD after CD,and really listened to them.
Today,classical music is the only kind I ever attend in concert — about five to ten times a year,on average. I’ve probably been to the symphony or recitals about 50 or 60 times.
Of course,I would never mention such a number gratuitously in order to show how cultured and intellectually superior I am over knuckle-dragging Neanderthals who wouldn’t know a concerto from a symphony from a Paris Hilton album.
This is pretty strong stuff from a fellow who can’t play an instrument or read music.
I’ve talked about my hatred of pretentious or humorless fiction. And I know I’ve blogged about music ad nauseum,to the point that if you read between the lines,you can clearly see a nose pointed skyward. But the more I consider my youth — an exercise that I do frequently as the brat approaches birth — I realize that much of my worldview is shaped,for better or worse,by music.
Rock concerts and LPs sustained me through my sexless teenage years;a piano concerto played a role in my courting of Wife.
But what really strikes me is how much music plays a huge role in my writing. My novel is,essentially,about music and youth. The protagonist plays in a rock band,hangs out at blues clubs,and finds that is life is defined by a certain swivel-hipped fellow from Tupelo,Miss.
There’s more and more of this crap. Several short stories feature song lyrics (invented or existing) or entire scenes are set up with notes in the background. One story was predicated on the protagonist hearing “Also Sprach Zarathrusta” while he’s on hold. Another was titled “Sinatra Saves Stephen.”
So I come full circle here. Perhaps I judge Ms. Newsom too harshly;after all,many of her fans admit that her singing takes a bit of getting used to. It can’t be that all those critics who put “Ys” on their “Top 10 of 2006” are all wrong.
What the hell
I’ll probably give it another chance,otherwise,I risk being a reverse snob,fearing that what I cannot understand is inferior.
Or I can just blast “It’s a Long Way to the Top (If You Want to Rock and Roll)” at 11,and to say,to hell with Joanna Newsom.
Excellent choice,Bookfraud.
I love music. LOVE IT. But what makes me feel terrible is when I realize I know next to nothing about indie rock. I am poor,so I refuse to buy a cd I haven’t heard anything off of. Used to be I’d have to hear three songs before I’d buy it,just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.
Sigh.
Makes me feel so out of touch.
I love music. LOVE IT. But what makes me feel terrible is when I realize I know next to nothing about indie rock. I am poor,so I refuse to buy a cd I haven’t heard anything off of. Used to be I’d have to hear three songs before I’d buy it,just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.
Sigh.
Makes me feel so out of touch.
I love music. LOVE IT. But what makes me feel terrible is when I realize I know next to nothing about indie rock. I am poor,so I refuse to buy a cd I haven’t heard anything off of. Used to be I’d have to hear three songs before I’d buy it,just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.
Sigh.
Makes me feel so out of touch.
?It’s a Long Way to the Top (If You Want to Rock and Roll)?
Good choice!
Be nice to hear a harp vesion someday.
I swear I think we share a brain. Agree on the art snobbery points.
I can certainly identify with this post.
Music has defined much of who I am for almost all of my life.
When I first really discovered music it was as a child in the late 70s listening tothe Beatles,The Doors,The Rolling Stones,and the classic rock of the 1950s.
Then I discovered punk,new wave and post punk and it change dthe way I thought,dressed,wrote. It influenced the people,places and things I held to be important.
Since then I have added layer upon layer to my love and belief in music.
Jazz,Classical (it helps living 6 blocks from Lincoln Center) reggae,latin.
I have,like you,struggled against music snobbery. I can usually keep it in check,except when i encounter people whose only taste in music is dance music.
And the people I really can’t relate to are the ones who have no passion at all for music.
I think a little musical snobbery is alright.
madame d.:do not despair. i can’t keep up with indee rock,either. or anything past 1997. it takes a lot of time,this keeping up.
julia:it would be a cool song for ms. newsom to cover. or try to. then again,bonny scott did play bagpipes on the original.
phoenix:i imagine close proximity to such an institution would be copecetic. wish i had that luxury.
i almost broke up with a woman when she compared the “ideas”in house dance music to beethoven. i mean,i really was about to throw up.
?It’s a Long Way to the Top (If You Want to Rock and Roll)?
Good choice!
Be nice to hear a harp vesion someday.
?It’s a Long Way to the Top (If You Want to Rock and Roll)?
Good choice!
Be nice to hear a harp vesion someday.
I swear I think we share a brain. Agree on the art snobbery points.
I can certainly identify with this post.
Music has defined much of who I am for almost all of my life.
When I first really discovered music it was as a child in the late 70s listening tothe Beatles,The Doors,The Rolling Stones,and the classic rock of the 1950s.
Then I discovered punk,new wave and post punk and it change dthe way I thought,dressed,wrote. It influenced the people,places and things I held to be important.
Since then I have added layer upon layer to my love and belief in music.
Jazz,Classical (it helps living 6 blocks from Lincoln Center) reggae,latin.
I have,like you,struggled against music snobbery. I can usually keep it in check,except when i encounter people whose only taste in music is dance music.
And the people I really can’t relate to are the ones who have no passion at all for music.
I think a little musical snobbery is alright.
I swear I think we share a brain. Agree on the art snobbery points.
I can certainly identify with this post.
Music has defined much of who I am for almost all of my life.
When I first really discovered music it was as a child in the late 70s listening tothe Beatles,The Doors,The Rolling Stones,and the classic rock of the 1950s.
Then I discovered punk,new wave and post punk and it change dthe way I thought,dressed,wrote. It influenced the people,places and things I held to be important.
Since then I have added layer upon layer to my love and belief in music.
Jazz,Classical (it helps living 6 blocks from Lincoln Center) reggae,latin.
I have,like you,struggled against music snobbery. I can usually keep it in check,except when i encounter people whose only taste in music is dance music.
And the people I really can’t relate to are the ones who have no passion at all for music.
I think a little musical snobbery is alright.
madame d.:do not despair. i can’t keep up with indee rock,either. or anything past 1997. it takes a lot of time,this keeping up.
julia:it would be a cool song for ms. newsom to cover. or try to. then again,bonny scott did play bagpipes on the original.
phoenix:i imagine close proximity to such an institution would be copecetic. wish i had that luxury.
i almost broke up with a woman when she compared the “ideas”in house dance music to beethoven. i mean,i really was about to throw up.
madame d.:do not despair. i can’t keep up with indee rock,either. or anything past 1997. it takes a lot of time,this keeping up.
julia:it would be a cool song for ms. newsom to cover. or try to. then again,bonny scott did play bagpipes on the original.
phoenix:i imagine close proximity to such an institution would be copecetic. wish i had that luxury.
i almost broke up with a woman when she compared the “ideas”in house dance music to beethoven. i mean,i really was about to throw up.
I believe that I have some of the vintage Bookfraud musical rants in the basement. They were always entertaining,in fact,I think that they helped Mr. Cheraldo know that I was okay,since he agreed with young Bookfraud,and by the transitive properties of friends…well you get it.
I have always celebrated my inner snob. It may be that I live in MO or as we often say Misery.
Aah,who am I kidding,I’ve always been a snob. I do think that it is every group’s right. For example,I am guessing that the NASCAR fans would take my complete ignorance of their world as an example of my being a complet maroon.
I believe that I have some of the vintage Bookfraud musical rants in the basement. They were always entertaining,in fact,I think that they helped Mr. Cheraldo know that I was okay,since he agreed with young Bookfraud,and by the transitive properties of friends…well you get it.
I have always celebrated my inner snob. It may be that I live in MO or as we often say Misery.
I believe that I have some of the vintage Bookfraud musical rants in the basement. They were always entertaining,in fact,I think that they helped Mr. Cheraldo know that I was okay,since he agreed with young Bookfraud,and by the transitive properties of friends…well you get it.
I have always celebrated my inner snob. It may be that I live in MO or as we often say Misery.
Aah,who am I kidding,I’ve always been a snob. I do think that it is every group’s right. For example,I am guessing that the NASCAR fans would take my complete ignorance of their world as an example of my being a complet maroon.
Aah,who am I kidding,I’ve always been a snob. I do think that it is every group’s right. For example,I am guessing that the NASCAR fans would take my complete ignorance of their world as an example of my being a complet maroon.
This one time? I met Gail Godwin at a lecture/book signing. She was plugging a new fiction novel and a compilation of her journals. I bought the journal compilation because the advertisements said she used to take her real life experiences and fictionalize them and she wrote everything down in her journals so she wouldn’t forget. And that’s what *I* do. So I was tres excited.
When she was done lecturing,everyone lined up with their books to be signed. This was the procedure:
1. Line up.
2. Get a post it note.
3. Write down the message you want Gail Godwin to write in the book(s) you’ve purchased.
This was my message (because I was kind of star struck and not a little bit on the dumb side):Dear Amy,Good luck with your own journaling! Love,Gail Godwin.
When I got up to Gail Godwin,I said “Hi,Ms. Godwin! I really love your books and I’m especially excited about reading about your journaling process.”
And Gail Godwin looked at my inscription request and said,“I think I’m going to write:Best of luck writing in your own journals. I don’t like the word ‘journaling.’My mother used to call it that and it doesn’t sit well with me.”
Later,I realized:that beeyotch was WRONG. Anybody who writes shit along the lines of “I want to write everything great that was ever written!”Is just asking for trouble later in life.
Here’s where my inner hypocrite rears her ugly head:Sometimes? I tell people this story and they say:“Who’s Gail Godwin?”
And I feel kind of superior.
This one time? I met Gail Godwin at a lecture/book signing. She was plugging a new fiction novel and a compilation of her journals. I bought the journal compilation because the advertisements said she used to take her real life experiences and fictionalize them and she wrote everything down in her journals so she wouldn’t forget. And that’s what *I* do. So I was tres excited.
When she was done lecturing,everyone lined up with their books to be signed. This was the procedure:
1. Line up.
2. Get a post it note.
3. Write down the message you want Gail Godwin to write in the book(s) you’ve purchased.
This was my message (because I was kind of star struck and not a little bit on the dumb side):Dear Amy,Good luck with your own journaling! Love,Gail Godwin.
When I got up to Gail Godwin,I said “Hi,Ms. Godwin! I really love your books and I’m especially excited about reading about your journaling process.”
And Gail Godwin looked at my inscription request and said,“I think I’m going to write:Best of luck writing in your own journals. I don’t like the word ‘journaling.’My mother used to call it that and it doesn’t sit well with me.”
Later,I realized:that beeyotch was WRONG. Anybody who writes shit along the lines of “I want to write everything great that was ever written!”Is just asking for trouble later in life.
Here’s where my inner hypocrite rears her ugly head:Sometimes? I tell people this story and they say:“Who’s Gail Godwin?”
And I feel kind of superior.
This one time? I met Gail Godwin at a lecture/book signing. She was plugging a new fiction novel and a compilation of her journals. I bought the journal compilation because the advertisements said she used to take her real life experiences and fictionalize them and she wrote everything down in her journals so she wouldn’t forget. And that’s what *I* do. So I was tres excited.
When she was done lecturing,everyone lined up with their books to be signed. This was the procedure:
1. Line up.
2. Get a post it note.
3. Write down the message you want Gail Godwin to write in the book(s) you’ve purchased.
This was my message (because I was kind of star struck and not a little bit on the dumb side):Dear Amy,Good luck with your own journaling! Love,Gail Godwin.
When I got up to Gail Godwin,I said “Hi,Ms. Godwin! I really love your books and I’m especially excited about reading about your journaling process.”
And Gail Godwin looked at my inscription request and said,“I think I’m going to write:Best of luck writing in your own journals. I don’t like the word ‘journaling.’My mother used to call it that and it doesn’t sit well with me.”
Later,I realized:that beeyotch was WRONG. Anybody who writes shit along the lines of “I want to write everything great that was ever written!”Is just asking for trouble later in life.
Here’s where my inner hypocrite rears her ugly head:Sometimes? I tell people this story and they say:“Who’s Gail Godwin?”
And I feel kind of superior.