!WAR: ! Women Art Revolution
Available soon on ZeitgeistFilms 

Imagine wandering through an art gallery, ignoring the art and instead tallying the number of female artists on display. It may seem strange, but that’s exactly what a group of women did in the late 1960s. Their findings—that women had been almost completely excluded from the gallery system—were not entirely surprising.

The group formed a coalition, Women Artists in Revolution, and the feminist art movement was born. For the next 40 years, artist Lynn Hershman Leeson recorded snippets of it, documenting art by women and interviewing any female artists, curators and art historians she could find. Leeson accumulated over twelve thousand minutes of video and archived nearly one thousand still images. !WAR is the condensed version of this lively history.

The documentary’s main strength lies in putting feminist artwork into context. “You have to ask yourself why it was necessary for [feminist artists] to do this in the first place,” says Leeson. Through archival footage and interviews, !WAR illustrates just how difficult it was for women (who have since become the foundation for feminist art practice) to get into galleries, much less art history books.

“As an undergraduate at Harvard University [in the early 1980s],” says art historian Amelia Jones, “I don’t think there was a single woman artist whose work was discussed in any one of my classes.” Thankfully, things have changed. !WAR shows how women exposed and subverted the system that decides what artwork gets recognized and remembered. In revealing this, the documentary becomes more engaging than any textbook chapter on the feminist movement.

Anyone who lived this movement will enjoy !WAR, but those that didn’t are the ones who most need to watch it. We need to see life breathed back into feminism, see its passion and creative problem-solving made contagious. We need to be reminded that feminism was once cool and, though gains have been made, the fight for equality is not over.

Formula 1 racing, like all sports, is not supposed to be about politics. F1 is really about everything else—speed, strategy, innovation. It’s about everything going wrong all at once, and it’s about a thousand pieces coming together at the best possible moment. In this equation, politics doesn’t make sense. It’s maybe for this reason that when politics does enter sports, it seems to turn that world on its head—especially the bit about things coming together.

That’s certainly what happened at the Bahrain Grand Prix last Sunday. Admittedly, I’m a big F1 fan, and there was a lot to talk about from the weekend’s race. Sebastian Vettel won with typical style, keeping former champion Lewis Hamilton and teammate Mark Webber at a distance, and marking his first win of the year. But the real story was Team Lotus: after a two-year hiatus, Kimi Räikkönen achieved his first podium of the season after vaulting nine positions from qualifying. Meanwhile, his young teammate, Romain Grosjean, fended off Lewis Hamilton in the closing laps to gain his own spot on the podium.   

In most parts of the world, hearing that much was easy—especially in Canada or England where F1 is more popular, and the coverage far superior. But the real story yesterday wasn’t on the remote desert track. It was in the north, in Manama where ongoing protests overshadowed the weekend’s festivities. On Friday, reports The Guardian, during the first of three planned “Days of Rage,” riot police shot and killed Salah Abbas Habib, a 37-year-old protester. The night before the race on Sunday, riot police patrolled city and village streets, enforcing an unofficial curfew. Well aware of the country’s violent crackdown, F1 driver Nico Hülkenberg said the race should probably be canceled. Stopping short of expressing regret, Mark Webber told reporters there was no reason to celebrate after finishing fourth on Sunday.  

Last year, things were very different—at least in Sakhir. Amid intensifying demonstrations inspired by the wider Arab Spring, Crown Prince Sheikh Salman bin Hamad al-Khalifa requested that his country’s GP be suspended, says BBC. Activists and human rights groups praised the decision, though F1 didn’t formally cancel the even until some months later. But this year, without a formal request from Manama—aside from protesters calling for a boycott—the race went on as planned. For many, the incident mirrored the 1985 South African Grand Prix, a controversial event that defied an international boycott and divestment movement against South African apartheid. Unlike Bahrain, that race was more about future champions, as Nigel Mansell defended pole position against Alain Prost and the legendary Ayrton Senna, all of whom went on to win multiple world titles over the next ten years.

But as with Bahrain, drivers’ and team members’ reservations about apartheid didn’t stop the larger F1 apparatus from going ahead with the race. The teams that did formally pull out that year—France’s Ligier and Renault in particular—did so mainly in line with their home country’s official boycott against the apartheid regime.

It’s an old pattern. For athletes, acting on political principle usually carries a heavy penalty. In contrast to say, film stars—whose political ideals and actions are all but a career asset—the situation is a little more complicated for athletes. This was certainly true for Tommie Smith and John Carlos—the Olympic medalists whose podium Black Power salute in 1968 brought international attention to the black American struggle. As The Guardian points out, it didn’t take long for the International Olympic Committee to suspend both runners from the U.S. team. The LA Times compared the action to a Nazi salute. People booed.

The same was true for Muhammad Ali, who was famously banned from boxing after refusing to support U.S. actions in Vietnam. In fact, the only time when an athlete’s politics doesn’t carry this kind of risk is when the politics are outside their control. The symbolic victories Joe Louis and Jesse Owens won over (Nazi) German opponents illustrate this contradiction. No one could deny the cultural importance of Joe Louis’ triumph over Max Schemling in 1936—the event won accolades from Langston Hughes and Franklin Roosevelt, among others—but there was no talk of suspension. Critically, in both cases, neither athlete made an individual statement against injustice. Rather, their actions were important because of what they represented, almost independent of the athletes’ personal ideals.  

And this is certainly true today, though with some isolated exceptions. In particular, pro basketball stands out as more welcoming of political messages than other sports. Both the Miami Heat and the Phoenix Suns recently used their mass media presence to bring attention to larger social issues. But by and large, sports’ entertainment value trumps its politics, and its social and philosophical dimensions are usually hidden.

Speaking more recently, John Carlos blames a rising influence of money for making political questions less a part of pro sports. In the 1960s, athletes were quicker to see larger issues play out, rather than focusing on career and contractual obligations. “That’s the difference between Muhammad Ali and Michael Jordan,” he told The Guardian. That would certainly be true of Formula 1. The Washington Examiner points out that Mumtalakat, Bahrain’s sovereign wealth fund, owns 50 percent of McLaren Racing, a leading F1 team. But that may only be part of the problem. Writing for Huffington, David Hobbs condemns the tendency to see sports as somehow removed from larger social issues and obligations. And that’s true of races in Bahrain, or China, for that matter, he says.

At the same time, the idea that pro sports are insulated from larger political forces is very much a Western one. Other parts of the world in fact seem to have the opposite problem, where social issues are inescapable—athletes being no exception. While Bahrain boasts no hometown Formula 1 drivers, Al Jazeera reports that more than 150 athletes, coaches and officials were arrested during Arab Spring protests last year. Two were national footballers, brothers Mohammed and Alaa Hubail, who were sentenced to two years’ imprisonment, and now live in exile. For them, an arena free of political dimensions may be somewhat welcome.     

Image by Emily Faulk, licensed under Creative Commons.   

Sources: BBC, The Guardian, F1 Fanatic, PBS, Huffington, Politico, Washington Examiner, Al Jazeera, Christian Science Monitor.  

 
Yann Tiersen
Skyline
Available now on Anti- (April 17, 2012)

Listening to Yann Tiersen’s Skyline feels a bit like catching up with an old friend. Perhaps you haven’t heard from this pal in a decade (the Amelie soundtrack), or maybe it’s only been a couple of years (Dust Lane). Either way, like a childhood companion you’ve run into on the street, you’ll find Tiersen aged but recognizable. And though you might have to get reacquainted, chances are you’ll enjoy doing it.

At first, Tiersen allows us to hear the side of him that we expect. “Another Shore” opens with a toy piano melody seemingly pulled from the past. That lasts for about three seconds, and then Tiersen begins to layer on percussion and guitar. Within the first minute, he has constructed a dynamic, instrumental rock track, cresendos retreating into softer, timid moments only to build up again.

But Tiersen has done more than find a new formula. On Skyline, experimentation abounds as he draws from a range of influences (think Air and The Books swapping stories with My Bloody Valentine and Do Make Say Think). “I’m Gonna Live Anyhow,” “Monuments,” and “The Gutter” are filled with layers of idiosyncratic sounds, alternately quirky and beautiful. That combination is well-trod territory for Tiersen, even as his choice of genre continues to evolve. 

On the whole, Skyline feels expansive and agreeably surreal. The notable exception is “Exit 25 Block 50,” with screams, hoots, and howls that seem an apt accompaniment to a small-town haunted house. These sounds eventually morph into something more tolerable, almost pleasant. Whether the listener will make it there is uncertain. Still, tracks like “Hesitation Wound,” “The Trial,” and “Vanishing Point” confirm that Tiersenhas found a balance between grit and transcendence. There is distortion, there is melody, there is aching and redemption.

If Dust Lane was Tiersen’s foray into the depths, Skyline is his emergence, changed but triumphant. It is a transformation that can’t be described as good, bad, or even stunningly original. But it is authentic.

 
Congo Sanchez
Volume 1
Available now on ESL Music (April 17, 2012)

There’s a hotel in Palm Springs, California, where the stars of mid-twentieth century Hollywood went to escape fame. Poolside, they relaxed in the sun, put cocktails on their tabs, listened to the latest breed of jazz. Still in operation, the getaway has perfected the art of retro-modern. Today, the young, hip, and rich sit in chairs designed by Eames and Saarinen, listening to an endless supply of remixed lounge. This summer, they will be listening to Congo Sanchez’s Volume 1.

But here’s the secret: Sanchez sounds just as good in a lawn chair by a kiddie pool. As with other albums from Eighteenth Street Lounge (home to Thievery Corporation and Ursula 1000), the music of Congo Sanchez surrounds its listener without necessarily drawing attention to itself. Sanchez claims a blend of Afro Latin dub, but that’s more of a garnish on ambient-electronic tracks like “Democrazy” and “Ghost Dance.” Cuban influence is more distilled in the rhythms of “Oleada Calor,” while the horn section of “T.E.T.O. (strut)” is clearly inspired by Afrobeat. All of this blends together in a seamless, worldly carnation of jazz.  

What we have here is practically a soundtrack for running through the sprinkler and grilling burgers. It’s as relaxing with a lemonade as it is with a gin and tonic. It is made of familiar ingredients, and yet you’ve never heard it this way. The percussion energizes, the bass line grooves, the synthy melodies and echos offer relaxation. My only complaint is that, at four tracks adding up to just over 17 minutes, it ends too quickly.

"Bonsai People: The Vision of Muhammad Yunus" (2012)
Documentary directed by Holly Mosher
Available now on DVD

In "Bonsai People: The Vision of Muhammad Yunus," Holly Mosher’s new documentary about the microcredit loan pioneer Muhammad Yunus, Mosher uses a clever method to tell her story. She follows an idealistic young Grameen employee, Sumon, as he opens a new bank branch in a flood-ravaged region near the Indian border. There we are introduced to several borrowers: Melancho, a petite young woman with an impish smile who becomes the local Grameen chairwoman; Aroti, a tall, charismatic go-getter whose Grameen connections help her land a spot as the only woman on the village council; Surjobano, an elderly widow shunned by her family for begging; and Shahnaj, whose son's recent death is quickly overshadowed by her existential concerns.

While Mosher makes no pretense toward objectivity - her film is a tribute rather than a critique - she does not manipulate with tricky editing. One is struck by the simplicity of her technique, which possesses a quiet beauty that mirrors her subject's lives. As villagers bathe livestock in picturesque rural scenes, children back-flip off oxen into a pond, women congregate in the village square to discuss their loans, they appear happy. Compared with the complexities of life in the developed world, their basic existences almost seem appealing. Gradually, however, their brutal realities become clear, especially the stifled lives of the women.

Mosher's advocacy of Yunus, in fact, has as much to do with his empowerment of women as his attempts to alleviate poverty. Her film focuses on women because Yunus does: they compose 97 percent of Grameen borrowers. Why such a large percentage? Yunus says that women spend the microcredit loans more wisely than men do. This has thrust them - most of them Muslim - into leadership roles within the family and the community. While empowering them, it has also created religious rifts, and Yunus has faced death threats and been accused of "destroying Islam."

The struggle between religion and women's rights is embodied by Aroti. The most successful borrower in the film, Aroti is extremely pious. Mosher appears to connect her strong work ethic to her piety. She is filmed reciting scripture and saying things like, "God doesn't like lazy people." As the only woman on the village council, however, Aroti complains that her views are routinely disregarded. She denounces the restrictions placed upon women, and speaks about the importance of changing societal norms. "Women were behind a curtain and slowly we are advancing," she says, flashing the proud smile of someone who’s helped pull that curtain back.

Stories like Aroti's are moving, and Mosher convinces us that Yunus’s ideas can accomplish wonders. By taking a "worm's eye" view of microcredit loans, Mosher engages us in the needs of the poor in a way that taking a broader view could not. Microcredit has been abused by loan sharks (200 Indian farmers were thought to have committed suicide because of high-interest microloans), attacked as a phony panacea, and Yunus has been denigrated by his own prime minister. But "Bonsai People" leaves us believing that if practiced according to Yunus's strictures, its ancillary benefits alone - empowering women, strengthening community bonds, providing education - make it worthy of high praise.

At the end of her film, Mosher returns to Bangladesh a year later. With one exception, every borrower's life has improved. Shahnaj finally replaced her straw roof with tin, and her daughter received a Grameen scholarship. Surjobano, the former beggar, has been successful repaying her loans and saved money to repair her walls. Melancho, who used her first loan to buy a cow, says that her family is no longer hungry. Aroti, already a landlord, erected a modern new house that contains indoor plumbing. "My husband sees me in a new light," she says, as he sits beaming by her side. "My family loves me very much."

 
Horse Feathers
Cynic's New Year
Available now on Kill Rock Stars (April 17, 2012)

The dark-clouded, rainy temperament of the Pacific Northwest seems an incubator of sorts for artists and musicians inspired by its quiet and enchanting personality. Justin Ringle, originally from Idaho, has called Portland home since 2004, where his subdued, calm nature is reflected back by the natural surroundings. For the past six years, Ringle has recorded his experiences and musings through the sonically ornate and lyrically haunting project Horse Feathers.

In early 2011, Ringle recruited the talents of producer Skyler Norwood (Blind Pilot, Talkdemonic) to record and help arrange a new batch of songs that would eventually become Cynic’s New Year, out now on Kill Rock Stars. Nathan Crockett, longtime collaborator of Ringle, joins on violin, with a host of other musicians playing everything from French horn and bells to banjo and upright bass. On their latest effort, Horse Feathers maintains the stark contrast between their uplifting arrangements and dark, poetic lyrics that have become a trademark of their sound.

Ringle’s overarching sentiment, concerned with the changing of seasons and hardships commonly bestowed upon young people, is neatly wrapped in the single “Fit Against the Country.” Backed by pulsing strings and acoustic guitar  à la early Neil Young, Ringle pleasantly creaks, “Every night we all go to a house we will never own/ Every night we are tired, we’ve been worked to the bone...It’s a hard country we made.” A riffing banjo and a handful of voices join the chorus for the working man’s plight by song’s end.

Where Horse Feathers falls short in originality (“Pacific Bray” sounds as if Sam Beam from Iron & Wine lost the track when he turned in The Shepherd’s Dog for production) they thrive in producing a space where uneasy, contemplative lyrics exist among floral musical arrangements. Speaking of this element, Ringle explains, “I think the contrast is really just about trying to express some grey area emotionally...something real for me.” “Nearly Old Friends” is a prime example of this recurring juxtaposition. Over a backing track built for inspiring springtime drives along the coast, Ringle urgently warns, “Something wicked is bound to this way come,” suggesting that no perfect moment comes without impending doom. If the end really is nigh, as some believe, be sure to revel in the tragic beauty of Cynic’s New Year before the winter solstice. Here's the video for the album's first single, "Where I'll Be:"

 
Alabama Shakes
Boys & Girls
Available now on Rough Trade (April 10, 2012)

Their sound is as old as rock ’n’ roll, but the Alabama Shakes just might be the next big thing.  

Alt they aren’t. Instead, the Shakes do it the old-fashioned way. Their sound is part Motown, part Stax Records, even part Janis Joplin. And add in a little garage rock attitude. All of which makes them hot stuff.

The band has come out of nowhere to break big. In no time at all, they were named “New Band of the Year” by Paste Magazine, appeared on NPR Music’s list of favorite new artists, and premiered on Conan. And once you give them a listen, you’ll understand why.

Boys & Girls is the Shakes’ debut, a down-and-dirty mélange of Southern rock, Memphis soul, juke joint blues, and swamp pop—all delivered with a tough punkish vibe. Guitarman Heath Fogg has studied his Booker T & the MGs records. He’s got the riffs and the classic sweet to highlight perfectly the rock-solid R&B groove set by bassist Zac Cockrell and drummer Steve Johnson.

But it’s vocalist Brittany Howard that astonishes. She unleashes songs with a soulfulness that brings up dangerous comparisons with Janis and Aretha. On the band’s standout single, “Hold On,” she moves from a throaty growl to wailing release. “You Ain’t Alone” is a slow-burning torch song while “I Found You” is classic gospel-tinged rock ’n’ roll as only the South can produce.

All of which may earn the Alabama Shakes a label as “alt alt”—an alternative to alternative music. Whatever, Boys & Girls is a welcome return to classic R&B, with all the passion and fire, sound and fury of the greats.

For most of us, music offers an escape from everyday troubles. We don’t often stop to think that music is subject to the same concerns: making money, finding a place to thrive, and staying true to itself within a rigid, often ruthless, industry. Some music prefers to avoid such mayhem. It parties on the fringes, sending an occasional dispatch for our edification. This primer on Cuban music and a socialist approach to the art of sound is one such report.

For New American Media, Greg Landau and interviewer Jacob Simas explore themes in contemporary Cuban music, illuminating a dynamic art that is at once traditional and experimental, a forum for both critique and celebration. Landau and Simas offer insights into trends in Cuban music while nonchalantly, almost inadvertently, exposing the effects of capitalist ideology on the music industry. If you can, listen to the audio version of the interview, which has examples of the music.

Source: New American Media. 

Image by Jorge Royan ; licensed under Creative Commons.  

Poor Moon
Illusion EP
Available now on Sub Pop  

Christian Wargo and Casey Wescott, both of Fleet Foxes and Crystal Skulls, along with brothers Ian and Peter Murray, debut as Poor Moon with a mesmerizing offering of folky tunes fit for cloudy, slow-moving mornings when a cup of tea beckons to rub off the haze of sleep. Wargo, the group’s sole songwriter, combines the gentle folk elements of his more well known musical endeavor with the electric, upbeat pop of Crystal Skulls, creating something new. The Seattle-based band released the five song EP, Illusion, on March 27 via their hometown label Sub Pop.

On “Illusion,” the title track, Wargo weaves his vocals over a stark background of lightly fingerpicked acoustic guitar and waves of reverb organ swirls. “It’s not fair/ Can I be as unaware as I seem/ Laying there like I don’t know how to prepare to be seen,” Wargo coos in self reflection. After several years of touring, traversing the obscure landscape of sudden fame and success, some soul-searching about who you are and where you want to be seems necessary. Wargo arrives at a simple, yet difficult to follow, mantra for going forward - “I want to learn to rely on what I first decide/ When the moment comes before it passes me by.”

“People in Her Mind,” the first single from Illusion, tells the story of a lonely girl living in the past, calling out the names of people she used to know. The band contrasts this sorry imagery with the jovial instrumentation of distorted guitar riffs and a dancing xylophone. In a similar vein, “Once Before” finds Poor Moon unabashedly playing simple rock and roll, albeit a bit darker and more mysterious. Wargo makes solid use of his vocal range, occasionally showing off his smooth falsetto in choruses of harmonizing oohs, that might continue humming in your head long after the music stops.

Poor Moon returns to their folkier side on the final track, “Widow,” with inventive vocal melodies blowing over a field of soothing guitar plucks. Coming in at around 15 minutes, the EP should be just enough to tide you over until the release of their first full-length album due out later this year. While comparisons to Fleet Foxes will be made, as is only obvious and natural, Illusion stands on its own as a shining example of the modern folk-rock wave of the past few years.

 

Chuck Mead
Back at the Quonset Hut
Available now on Ramseur Records (Feb. 28, 2012)

If there was ever a doubt it was possible to put a youthful, energetic spin on classics without being disrespectful, Chuck Mead has buried it on Back at the Quonset Hut.

Mead and his Grassy Knoll Boys rip through a dozen country and rockabilly standards on Back At the Quonset Hut, infusing each with a simmering vitality that drips off the disc while simultaneously wearing their reverence for the tunes proudly on their sleeves. A tribute to Bradley Film and Recording Studios, better known as The Quonset Hut, Mead recorded the paean to a legendary studio in one November 2010 weekend. He brought along former BR5-49 band mate Chris Scruggs and studio legends such as piano man Hargus “Pig” Robbins to help out.

While country luminaries like Bobby Bare join Mead for duets such as Carl Smith’s “Hey Joe,” the real stars here are the songs and the country giants that made them standards. Aiming for the highs of Roy Acuff (Wabash Cannonball), Hank Williams (Settin’ the Woods on Fire) and Tammy Wynette/Johnny Paycheck (Apartment #9) can be a fool’s errand, but Mead proves once again he’s nobody’s fool. Giving each tune his energetic vocal treatment, they are faithful renditions of songs he very sincerely loves. Yet this is no mere mimicry. Mead works effortlessly with his fellow studio mates and rips through each tune in his own way as though he’s been playing them for years. In many cases, he has.

Nashville has been a country town for decades - thanks in no small part to the greats who recorded at the Quonset Hut - but many a fine rockabilly cat also prowled through town. Mead tips his hat to two of the finest, Gene Vincent and Carl Perkins with toe-tappin’ versions of “Be Bop A Lula” and “Cat Clothes” respectively. But the real star of the quonset show is honky tonk standard “Sittin’ and Thinkin,’” made famous by Charlie Rich. Mead and pedal steel guitarist Carco Clave wring every possible drop of heartbreak and desperation out of the tune, like the narrator might on another one of his destructive binges. Like so many country songs attest, love can hurt, but when you love the music as much as Mead clearly does, you just can’t quit.