It's nice to see indie musicians and directors embracing exuberant dance in their videos, but this is a great effort for reasons beyond the "Thriller" referencing. From the fluidity of the camera movement to the skill of the lighting techniques, the directors do wonders with a small budget and what is clearly a limited space. The video stays fresh by continually finding new ways of visualizing the music throughout the 3 minutes and 46 seconds of running time. The color palette is also marvelously balanced to create a sense of unity from shot to shot. Fun stuff.
Celebrating the magic of the mix tape, this nostalgic video is perfectly charming in its simplicity. The mix tape as art is a subject widely tackled in the post-cassette world, and here the directors highlight the themes of individuality, friendship and love that go hand-in-hand with that discussion. Music becomes an actual breathing thing when carefully put together on the perfect tape, and thus each cassette carries in it the memory of its creation and everything that followed.
At about 2 minutes and 30 seconds into this glossy new video, a nearly-nude Rihanna poses provocatively inside a huge triangle. But long before that blatant moment of female sexuality director Chris Applebaum establishes "Umbrella" as a multi-faceted metaphor. From the way Rihanna's short skirt mimics the look of an open umbrella to the suggestive way she places a closed one between her legs, the artist presents her femininity as a sensual and protective attraction. But as she combats the rain with her body, she sings about her emotions being symbols of strength and safety as well. Her desire and her heart are two parts of the same feeling, just as she dances in black & white and color.
Yet as mentioned, this all becomes clear rather quickly. The inclusion of Jay-Z in the beginning ads nothing to the theme, and though they cascade all around him and Rihanna - there are no sparks flying here. There is a lulling effect in Rihanna's voice that is both sexy and mildly boring, and the video wallows between these two poles. But strangely enough, the song itself succeeds precisely because of this ambiguity.
What at first appears to be a single falling star soaring through the heavens soon splits into three separate meteors burning into oblivion. Beneath that astronomical phenomenon three characters stumble through the darkness, each illuminated by an occasional streetlight or fluorescent sign. The Hermetic maxim "as above, so below" is often cited as the basic philosophy of astrology, and implies that events in the celestial sphere directly influence earthly matters. Whether or not Jaron Albertin's video for "In the Morning" supports that belief, it's true that after observing the final fires of a distant rock these characters will face their own demise.
Stars in the sky commonly represented immortality in Greek mythology, and thus a "shooting" star was seen as loss of that permanence. Gods and goddesses, though often depicted as all-powerful perfect creations, were not immune to the possibility of death in extraordinary circumstances. One such story of fallen grace involved Narcissus, the son of the river god Cephissus and the iconic symbol of self-love - a beautiful youth literally killed by his own reflection.
Yet though the key phrase in the Junior Boys infectious song is "too young," the people who wander through this video are a bit removed from the beauty of their youth. Thus when the drunken woman sees her face in a pool of her own saliva, the image recalls Velázquez's The Rokeby Venus as much as it mimics Waterhouse's Narcissus. It's an aged look of shocking recognition rather than a fascination with beauty - the end of an oblivious life of vanity.
Narcissus by Waterhouse
The mirrors in which each character comes to terms with their own fleeting existence are created by the seeping body fluids of their intoxicated nights. Blood, urine and drool literally carry the evidence of a self-indulgent lifestyle, and in studying these rather unpleasant liquids they truly understand their loss of beauty. Like a prominently flashing sign implies, these characters are forced to strip away all the false coverings of their thoughts and stare directly at the naked truth of their lives.
A Norwegian court recently ruled that the "striptease" was a form of art. If it truly is, it's surely the most vane/cheap form of expression imaginable. One presents self-beauty as a consumable product aimed at eliciting a very precise reaction from the audience. Yet all art holds traces of this same self-indulgence, and some may even accuse Albertin of committing this very "crime" here in this video. But unlike the director, the characters in this story are never aware of their own stage performance until it's too late.
None of them are actually shown drinking, and so alcohol isn't the real catalyst here. Rather it's a pseudo mid-life crisis, like a moment of clarity in the night that opens their eyes. Severe drunkenness is simply a symbol of self-obsession and self-pity - in many ways these people were only avoiding something they already knew as fact. The fear of growing up and "losing" beauty has pushed them to the extremes of contrived behavior. The irony is that to spend your days worrying about or avoiding the reality of aging will only increase the pain of the eventual realization.
Vanity, though it seems a product of pride, is more about a lack of confidence (as is binge drinking). To be "too young" is to hold fast to the naivety of believing in one's own immortality long after you've lost true innocence. While many videos and works of art idealize the image of the "shooting star" (artists who shine brightly for a brief moment), Albertin's characters are disconnected from themselves - spiraling towards an eventual burnout. Like the billions of unseen meteors dying in the universe every second, these characters perish alone - leaving no trace in the morning.
Beginning with an ornately drawn compass, Alma Har'el's lavish video for "Elephant Gun" is very much a study of travel, distance and home. Which makes sense when you consider Beirut, a band whose very sound evokes far away lands and an acute feeling of wanderlust. It's also no coincidence then that the song begins with the lyric, "If I was young, I'd flee this town."
Zach Condon's voice expresses a loneliness amongst the crowd of revelers who move beautifully around him. The walls are plastered with maps that lead elsewhere - perhaps to solitary oceans - but here he is with bottles of liquor, beautiful women and the temptations of extravagance. One imagines Condon's characters mingling with Gatsby or Hemmingway's lot in The Sun Also Rises - people who drown their sorrow in excess and life amid the foreign and unknown.
There is beauty in this strangely erotic room, and no doubt most of its residents are enjoying themselves. There is something sublime in "letting the seasons begin" and completely embracing the energy of the moment - the lust, the drinks and the music. But the look on Condon's face is the clue to everything he hides inside - the bored desperation of his dreams comes pouring out the weary notes of his trumpet. He can live in distraction or follow the postcards on the wall, but either way a life of escapism will leave one unfulfilled - dragging empty cans along the beach.
To continue with our theme today: more lights. This actually might be our favorite so far, what with the "Seven Nation Army" referencing and excellence of the backing track. There's also a dreamy quality to the way the lights cascade around the performers - like the outer edges of a fire - which is helped greatly by the blippy synths and trippy guitars of the song. If you're interested in the process behind the video, check out the "making of" blog on the band's site.
We may have called this video lite-brite earlier in the week, but Y.O.U. bust out the real thing for "Moviekiss." Painstakingly put together from thousands of compositions on the legendary Hasbro children's toy, it's a fun and inspired idea. Also goes well with the Maccabees post below.
The Maccabees "First Love" celebrated the strangeness of love as much as it lamented the pain of losing it. Here we find another focus on peculiar action, except this time it's the small things we do to pass the time - from a game of Guess Who? to throwing paper airplanes. With the help of creative animation and camera work, many of these seemingly mundane activities come alive in striking fashion. In this way the video gives weight to our imagination and the everydayness of life. Like the singer who asks his lover to slow down so they can enjoy themselves longer, the video will do any random thing in order to avoid the point - which is actually the point. It's from these small acts of creativity and leisure that we often derive the most palpable sense of happiness.
We were big fans of The Deadly Snakes and their snarly Canadian rock, so Andre Ethier's first solo album had a lot to live up to. This track doesn't quite deliver on that promise, and the video isn't much to write home about either. That being said, the opening shot is magnificent - reminiscent of Polanski's The Tragedy of Macbeth - and there is something weirdly hilarious about all the secret society and Obi-Wan Kenobi posing. Seems like the only way to stop "this mean old world" from getting you down is creating your personal niche - or getting possessed by demons.
As long as Ethier holds onto that voice, he'll keep our interest.
The genius of Bernard Hermann's score for Taxi Driver is the way it establishes important themes but never obscures or overpowers the images. The sounds work with and against Martin Scorsese's vision, helping create the suffocating atmosphere of the picture. There's the sultry saxophone which lures you into the seedy New York streets, while simultaneously underlining the loneliness of Travis Bickle. Then the rising drums which push forward and bang against the cacophonous trumpets as the violence crescendos. Just as the camera lingers on empty hallways and drops of rain, the score echoes the complicated inner psychosis of Bickle. Many have described Scorsese's masterpiece as a horror film, and it's Hermann's music which ads the final touch of paranoia that lingers in the hellish smoke rising from the sewers.
Ludacris picked up on the same idea in composing "Slap," using slinky west coast synths to complement the rising tension of his brooding baseline. The cheesy electric guitar is a perfect addition, evoking the excitement and fear of the night like the trumpets in Hermann's score. Yet much of this only becomes clear upon watching the visuals, in fact the song doesn't necessarily stand out amongst the other tracks on Release Therapy. This is that rare occasion where the pictures actually make the song much better; adding enormous depth to Ludacris's lyrics and emotion.
The director uses many of the same effects and shots as Scorsese, from slow motion drive-bys to red-hued close-ups. Direct scenes are copied - like the pull-ups in the doorway - and the narrative follows a nearly identical arc. On paper this might read like a bad idea - what's the point of so closely copying such a renowned film? Is it a cheap ploy to profit off Scorsese's art and image? Yet despite these questions, and somewhat miraculously, this video still works. Unlike the many Scarface and Godfather references you find in every other rap video, Ludacris and his director aren't using Taxi Driver merely for its street-cred or arresting visuals. The reference actually exists as a powerful ally to the lyrics, increasing anticipation for what we think we know will happen.
The song is especially vital in this regard, as the repetition within the chorus and angry inflection of Ludacris's delivery serve to build the suspense to a fever pitch. He raps about losing a friend, being disconnected from his girlfriend and the general stagnation of his life. Then he turns his sights on the state of the world, and we can just feel the intensity of the moment as he kicks Bush and his TV onto the floor. It's a different context but since we "know" what's coming we translate the heat of Bickle's self-destruction into Ludacris's character. Yet in the next scene, based on one of the iconic moments in all of cinema, we don't get the pay off we are expecting.
One could argue this is the point where the video falls apart - without the threat of Bickle's guns, the climax might feel blasé. Ludacris stands in front of the mirror pretending to slap someone, and you almost want to laugh. That's it? That is what you've decided to do about your pent up frustrations and excruciating loneliness? Not that slapping someone isn't a violent or physically powerful act, but Ludacris himself makes mention of a .45 earlier in the song. We almost want him to go out in a blaze of glory.
But once again this isn't Scarface, and Ludacris isn't playing Travis Bickle either. It'd be easy to critique the rapper's improvisations in front of the mirror when compared with De Niro's singular performance, but if you look at it on its own - which the video invites us to do with the lack of the gun - Ludacris does a fine job of channeling a different sort of spirit. In retrospect his character is far from the utterly lone soul that Bickle is. He at least had a close friend, he has a girlfriend and what really throws him over the edge is the American government's corrupt policy and lack of respect for his community. This taxi driver is expressing more frustration than loneliness, while Bickle's frustration was a direct product of his isolation.
Ludacris isn't just frustrated with the world around him, he recognizes that part of the problem may be his own laziness. In that way he is much more like an average citizen than the mentally unstable Bickle, who never really looks in that mirror. Granted most of us aren't walking into whorehouses and slapping around pimps, but we can relate to "I hate my 9 to 5." In Taxi Driver the pressures of society which push Bickle over the edge are more subtle and relate more to his own inferiority complex - what screenwriter Paul Schrader called self-imposed loneliness. But here the character actually encounters death, robbery and the constant fear of war.
It isn't nearly as complex or gripping a portrait as Scorsese's magnum opus, but in its own way it relays the troubles of modern society while mirroring the themes of isolation and paranoia. It's also a monumental video for hip-hop right now. Bill O'Reilly once used this exact song as the basis of a seething critique of the Grammys and Ludacris (who won for Rap Album of the Year), repeatedly referencing the "slapping" as proof of the rapper's promotion of violence. It was clear then and it's clear now that O'Reilly never listened to this track or gave the artist a chance. I'm certain, considering Ludacris's history with O'Reilly, that those words where in the back of his head during the shoot. For this reason alone the video must be counted as an unqualified success; a dramatic affront to anyone who fails to see the potential of hip-hop expression.
Many critics agree that Travis Bickle being hailed as a hero at the end of Taxi Driver, after his murder spree, is a comment on the glorification of violence in American culture. So the fact that Ludacris clearly changes this major plot point in his own story is of some significance. It not only goes against the expectations set-up by the film reference, but also challenges the glorification of gun crime in hip hop culture. This isn't a story about a drug-deal gone wrong, or a man walking in on his cheating woman (not that those stories have no relevance, but they're told all the time in this genre), it's a complex look at personal insecurity, racial issues and frustration with contemporary affairs. The rapper doesn't make himself a hero, but rather presents a story and asks us to evaluate it ourselves. Thus the ultimate irony (and glory) of Ludacris's dark Scorsese-inspired vision in "Slap," is that it may very well be anti-violent.
Despite lacking the lyrical wit of Mike Skinner or Lily Allen, it's hard to entirely resist the sincerity of The Twang. Director Daniel Wolfe plays up the confessional tone with lonely shots of the singer in deep introspection, versus the full-band performance during the choruses. The work also moves from cautious peering through the blinds to the freedom of an outdoor setting - as the singer begins to fully express his feelings towards his love. But it's the rising notes of the music which really get the blood flowing.
It's no "Dashboard," but Christian Bevilacqua's high-sea adventure is a humorous and continually inventive ride. The story of lower deck men saving a damsel from the distress of the upper class is somewhat Titanic-ish, but this is no blockbuster. The zany acting and cardboard thought bubbles point to the irony of opening with that "Universal Pictures" logo. Despite the obviously meager budget the video mixes old school film techniques, modern animation and live-action performance rather well.
The story takes its inspiration from the lyrics of the song, where the singer describes his love as "my smelling salt by way the sea." The original "rhinemaidens" appeared in Wagner's four-part opera Der Ring des Nibelungen (The Ring of the Nibelung), in which they protected a magical ring and lived free from human influence - including love. The narrative itself kind of sputters out - especially since we anticipate its resolution right away - but the song is catchy and the visuals are varied enough to keep our interest. The "Paperman" is especially endearing.
There are two points of emphasis in this video: the brilliant Lite-Brite effect that illuminates the night, and Sophie Ellis-Bextor's long long legs. The later of which increases the Kylie Minogue factor of the work, which was already going to be pretty high considering the music. This all makes for some fun times and more than a few memorable shots as Ellis-Bextor leads us through her fantasy Fred Astaire-like.
The character sees love as a game where the less you know the more you get - like a trip to the land of Oz without ever looking behind that curtain (she starts the video by clicking her heels). There's also more than a little bit of sexual innuendo going on with the words and the visuals, and Ellis-Bextor is perhaps more concerned with having a bit of fun than actually being in love. In a sense she maintains power over her man or woman (she picks flowers but steps over tree trunks) by withholding information and asking the other to support her "imagination." Neon-lighted hearts only get you so far, but who says you have to go any further?
We continue our look at international videos with a brief focus on pop star Julieta Venegas, who has topped charts in Spain, Italy, Columbia and Mexico ...
California-born singer Julieta Venegas (Latin Grammy Award winner, 2 certified platinum albums in Mexico) has often released interesting and off-beat videos to accompany her hit songs, and this latest project is no exception. While the video has its flaws (doesn't go anywhere), the vibrant colors and street-dancers are exuberant visualizations of the love the singer expresses. She brings her companion into this fantasy world in order to share it with him/her - so that they might become that much closer. The final shot splits Venegas in two as she points at the screen and smiles - suggesting that her lover is literally an extension of herself.
Three more videos released from the Grammy-winning Limon Y Sal:
As the title suggests, this one is all about escape - but not necessarily escapism. In the real world the character's boyfriend is a jerk, so she dumps him in favor of grand fantasies among animals, balloons and Dali. He didn't appreciate her dreams, but once she rids herself of all things him - she's free to go and live them.
Inverting famous fairy tales while cleverly referencing the silent era within a pop video, this video shows us that love has no rules, standards or norms - the strangest of pairs can often work the best. Kind of like lemon and salt?
While it starts out super-cheesy, the dream sequences which bring to life cheap Asian movie posters are spot on. They don't just perfectly recreate the aesthetic of films made on shoe-string budgets in countries on that side of the world, but they make a direct reference to the fairytale subject matter of the narratives within. Venegas sings of a first encounter with a lover, and the possibility of too good to be true romance - the kind you often find in these films - is exactly what's running through her mind.
The rest of the video is fairly average and the song itself could do without those horrible rap segments.
In Groundhog Day fashion, something is indeed changing here - albeit over time and not always to the knowledge of the protagonist. The video represents the small decisions we make which can effect such drastic change over time. The most memorable aspect is the hanging versions of Venegas, which sing from the different stages of her life like forgotten memories left out to dry. There is also more than a little bit of Gondry present and the whole thing looks very 90's - both of which are good things.
Recent Arts & Crafts-signees Young Galaxy paint a portrait of grand escape through the innocent eyes of children. Yet these aren't just any kids, they are confined to life within a prison-like orphanage. Even within these oppressive conditions a girl finds the strength to dream of something beyond the walls in front of her. Eventually she gathers the courage to take a chance and pursue those dreams.
The director ties these runaways to the band through inter-cut shots and an eventual encounter; it's clear that the musicians reflect their story of hope. Catherine McCandless sounds like Paula Frazer in that Cornershop song about drinking, but she has a vibrant urgency in her voice which comes out in the chorus. The snowy exterior also reminds one of the Fleetwood Mac comparisons this band frequently receives (this could easily be the video for "Landslide"). The video is at its best when the kids are racing through the snow and the music reaches its climax - eventuating with the two heroes standing at the edge of the world staring at a new horizon.
"On February 16, 2007, Wade Waters took over the University Neighborhood Middle School on the Lower East Side of Manhattan for the day. We spoke to the 6-8th graders about a variety of topics, including education, hip hop, and the creative process. At the end of the day, we put on a show for the whole school in the auditorium.
As much as I've personally lamented the condition of the American public school system, my experience at UNMS really gave me hope for the future. The faculty at UNMS is passionate and dedicated and the students were remarkable. In many cases, the students steered our conversations in directions we would have never thought to go, and I think we all took something away from the interaction." - Wade Waters
Though "Movement Music" isn't the most revolutionary or well produced video we've ever seen, it's an interesting look at hip-hop in light of all the negativepublicity the industry has received of late. In fact it's the description by Wade Waters that accompanies the video which really sheds light on its value. While Anderson Cooper and Camron' discuss the depressing realities of inner city America, it's equally important to recognize the progress and hope that still exists. What we see in the halls of this Manhattan middle school are posters questioning the use of the "n" word and children who seem genuinely happy, not to mention artists who take a real interest in inspiring these kids.
Anyone whose experienced life in inner-city America firsthand or seen season four of HBO's The Wire (maybe the greatest single season of television ever), knows that kids who grow up around crime and violence are indoctrinated into a mentality of fear from an early age - and changing that way of thinking can be near impossible. Just watch these kids talk about "snitching" on 60 minutes, and you'll see how deeply they buy into the "code" of drug dealing - via hip-hop. But both The Wire, and to a lesser extent "Movement Music," realize that the education system plays just as vital role in the lives of these young people as the music they listen to.
Suppressing the influence of the misogyny and fear that we find in some hip-hop music is no doubt a near impossible task (and one has to question whether suppression is really the answer), and forcing rappers to switch to a more positive message will prove even harder (let's face it, Wade Waters isn't nearly on the level of T.I. or Lil' Wayne). It would also be contrary to their artistic spirit - the appeal of many of the best hip-hop artists is their ability to convey the harsh realities of their lives; which often involve misogyny, fear and violence. The key is not to pretend that everyone grows up in the same cookie-cutter way, but rather provide a hopeful counter to the paranoia and despair we find in most "offensive" hip-hop. Snoop Dogg may say "ho" and "bitch" a lot, but how many of our classes teach positivity towards women? Suddenly the American patriarchy cares about its black women?
It is possible to express growing up on the corner in a creative and positive way - many artists already do so - but it takes self-confidence and a belief that things are actually capable of changing. Imbuing society with that hope is not just the responsibility of a few musicians - it's a far more universal and difficult task. But the occasional hip-hop video does remind you that real hope still exists, no matter where you live. Now imagine MIMS making this video and airing it on MTV and BET - that would be "hot."
The video begins in black and white, with a small bird taking flight within its cage. Stephanie Dosen sings of the "midnight darkness" being "nearly through" and her love staying "true," as her hand pensively traces the arms of her chair. The wall behind her springs to life just as she reaches the line, "it's going to be taking me over/ this joy, this joy." The screen is colored but so is Dosen, her smile's infectious and her sincerity illuminates the room.
Director Dan Sully uses deep close-ups, understated colors and slow motion to really let the beauty of the words fully bloom. The animated wallpaper is also a nice touch, and when it switches from a cage above Dosen's head to a print of leafy vines, it directly connects the singer to the birds who wish for freedom. Yet it's only a momentary experience; a step through doors into the light of an adjacent room. Dosen is covered alternately by shadows and bright lamps throughout the video.
Like those people lost in a trance dancing to the music, Dosen shines in the middle of the crowd overcome with her fleeting joy. Represented in that one shot is youth, love, and happiness - all things brief and beautiful. She sings that her heart is filled with light like a "constellation" in the sky, and the disco ball above reflects her joy on all those around.
The video and the song build brilliantly toward these choruses (the first one is especially breathtaking), which themselves are microcosms of the experience Dosen narrates - "it's like an hallelujah." The final shots are back in the black & white of the opening, and we may question why after such elation it ends in darkness. Sudden overwhelming bliss is a rare occurrence in life, but as Dosen reminds us - no matter how deep you float in the night, the sun will always rise. It's the contrast that moves us to jubilance.
This charming video is filled with vibrant colors, sweet melodies and magical suitcases as it tells its tale of life on the road for one-man band Carl Jordan. The "traveling song" is of course a singer-songwriter mainstay, but director Rylan Strader adds a personal touch which makes this a better-than-average vision - and the perfect introduction to a new musician. He simultaneously references the name of the band while using motels to expound on the themes of a constantly roaming soul.
While the protagonist here is a man obsessed with collecting (and stealing) random objects from every room he inhabits, he finds his many suitcases leave him unfulfilled without a permanent place to lay them. On the doorknob of each pastel room he enters he places a "do not disturb" sign. It isn't just that he fears getting caught in his kleptomania, but he is in many ways afraid to let anyone "in" on a personal level - he holds his privacy as the only real definition he has.
When he finally does settle on an abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere, he pulls everything out and recreates the same setting he has faced for years. It was never about the physical environment for the singer; home is far more elusive concept than a roof and a door. In a sense it's a constantly changing phenomenon, and something you recreate in every moment. But the sense of comfort and safety which "home" can provide, is in fact something that comes from within. Thus he throws his suitcase out the door - no longer scouring the globe for false warmth - and places a new sign on his doorknob, "The Western States Motel." It's through his music and art that he has finally found a sense of self and security.
Combining clever animation and an environmental cause, "Aux Arbres Citoyens" is an interesting challenge to governments and world leaders who sit aimlessly discussing statistics while the world around them falls to pieces. The real fear here is that the children who must live on this dilapidating planet are being crushed and forgotten under the weight of these figures and charts. Perhaps the best moment comes as two kids attempt to push back an increasingly heavy piece of a pie chart; perfectly capturing the point while getting at our sympathies.
This video urges the viewer to think of the real world consequences of polluting actions, and reminds us of the relative simplicity of a healthy ecosystem. After all, we are taught from a very young age that if you put bad things in the air, then bad things will come back - and if you ignore a problem it never gets better. Of course there are complications on the road to cleansing the Earth, but it does make you stop and wonder why it seems so difficult for everyone to agree that this is an issue that matters.
Also reminds us of another (better) critique we came across a few weeks back.
You don't have to be a French scholar to see the humor in this video. A parody of all things hip, hop and pop - it's really an epic comedy of errors. In the end it may be a bit too far over-the-top, but there are more than a few moments of hilarity. The car with the broken window and two steering wheels is an especially effective set piece.
Last time we saw The Willowz, they where moving at the speed of light in "Jubilee". For this video director Ace Norton slows things down, emphasizing the lyric, "I lose my mind now and again," capturing the strange things people do when given time to kill. Yet the irony is that great music is often made in the same way. The Willowz are thus celebrating the mundane and overlooked activities of the day, highlighting the unrecognized value of every moment and daydream in life. Whether it's simply a feeling of happiness or an excursion into the absurd, we actually require this strangeness to keep ourselves sane.
Shirtless, wearing that crown and singing with a verifiable twang - they also seem to be challenging Kings of Leon for that whole "southern-fried rock" throne. Luckily they're music and their videos are already better.
Bjork and first-time director Michel Ocelot invert our typical expectations of invasion by depicting a revolution that starts from within - these are soldiers digging themselves out of the very earth which they proceed to conquer. They are described as "intruders" only because they bring a "shower of goodness" to a world accustomed to turmoil, carnage and rambling.
The leader of this dance is Mother Bjork, calling on the spirits of her beloved land in the way only she can. The singer described the inspiration behind this track in a recent Pitchfork interview, "I mean, the human race, we are a tribe, let's face it, and let's stop all this religious bullshit...We're all fucking animals, so let's just make some universal tribal beat," and the video captures this particular sentiment of the song very well. The march here is not one of robotic acceptance, but a joyous and free-flowing rebellion. The shadowy figures take serious aim at the drudge of society, but have fun while doing so. After trudging through the muddy darkness of this "intrusion," Bjork stands content in the light of a new morning - the beautiful Earth resting clean behind her.
In case you missed it, check out our complete retrospective on Bjork's video career here.
In Gwen Stefani's "Cool," Sophie Muller used smooth cinematography, deft editing and her signature soft lightning to create a small romantic epic. It was an avalanche of memory, lust and heartbreak wrapped around a single afternoon teatime. She took a pop gem and filtered it through classic Italian cinema, emerging with one of the best videos of 2005.
It was also a significant moment in the career of both Muller and Stefani, marking the beginning of a partnership that has now lasted through five videos. In ten years or so, when we get ready to do a Depth of Focus on the pop star's career, I imagine "Cool" will be a central point of discussion. Muller had worked with Stefani previously on a number of No Doubt videos, thus she held a longstanding influence in the crafting of the singer's persona. But at the same time the director herself showed signs of creating a style specific to Stefani, which showed itself most beautifully in that video. The mutual impact of the relationship between artist and director is a factor in almost every video made, but it is especially evident with the duo's latest collaboration, "4 In the Morning."
Unlike "Cool," this video features a less immediate narrative, and a song that isn't quite as dreamy. So Muller chooses to open with the charm and beauty of Stefani (of which she has ample amounts), and then challenges the star to hold our attention through the rest. The singer has grown considerably as an actress, and her coquettish smiles and frowns are more subtly delivered here. She oozes sensuality with every soft step, and Muller's two central set pieces - a bed and a bathtub - are clearly meant to ratchet up the sex appeal.
In fact it would be quite easy to make the mistake of seeing this video simply as a ploy to capture the attention of all the horny boys and girls. Muller shows us Stefani pulling her shirt down to cover an exposed back, wading in the bathtub naked and consistently focuses on shots of her body in that tight t-shirt. Like most mainstream videos featuring a female protagonist, every other frame seems to remind us how attractive the singer is.
But Muller has more on her mind than arousing her audience, and she makes this evident with two important longer takes. The first occurs with Stefani in bed, glancing at the camera as she sings her opening verse. Rather than cut away after one beat of the song, Muller lingers in the sheets a moment longer. We get to see Stefani prepare for her line, we see the hesitation in her acting, and we are momentarily outside the world of pop video - forced to simply observe the performance and hear the lyrics. Then we plunge right back in with quick cuts and slow motion posing, but just long enough to set us up for the next dramatic scene. Stefani gets the longest take while sitting in her bathtub completely exposed to the world, hair strewn across her face and the emotion of the song built to a climax. She stares at us with those hurt eyes and tries to pull us into the room with her sincerity.
Yet these elements aren't only about exposing the vulnerability of the superstar either. The tension between the foreplay and the emotion is what develops the intimacy between the camera (i.e. the viewer) and the singer. The line, "I'm handin' over everything that I've got," takes on a double meaning. While Stefani sings about an unfulfilled relationship, she looks directly at the screen - it playing the role of both the estranged lover and her private diary. We watch her as she gets out of bed, makes a cup of tea and then indulges in a bath - each detail heightening our feeling of voyeurism and familiarity.
Stefani's constant staring at the camera breaks the wall between fiction and reality, between a narrative and performance video, and makes us constantly aware of the video camera - which automatically becomes a representation of Muller. Thus we are drawn into a dialogue between the director and the artist; we can sense the direction from behind the camera and the intentionality in the acting in front. We are also reminded of past Stefani videos, with her outfits and hairstyles recalling previous collaborations between the two - including "Cool." This actually takes away from the slight story being told in the video, but makes for a far more interesting end product. In the end this work is just as much about Muller's cinematic gaze as it is about Stefani's luxurious image; a meta-Muller video.
These Canadians move forward as the world regresses, or perhaps they venerate hip-hop history while their peers roam aimlessly onward? The song has a fresh new beat, but it simultaneously recalls sounds from the past. Either way, there's a new entry in the best backwards videos of all time category - though "Drop," this is not.
This marvelously edited work subtlety announces the return of movie star Jason Schwartzman (Rushmore, Marie Antoinette) to the ranks of (modest) rock stardom. Compiling obscure footage surrounding an art exhibit in Germany, director Cheryl Dunn puts together a compelling video without any appearance from the singer or a massive narrative. She simply captures the excitement and beauty of a moment in 1998 from beginning to end - culminating in an amazing performance of athleticism and grace by pro-skater Mark Gonzales. This arc is perfectly matched to the rising and falling of the song, making for a surprisingly thrilling experience.
This breezy ska-pop song manages to look more punk than it is, simply by using a grainy black and white filter. There's not much else to it, but it's worth mentioning (if you didn't already know) that Armstrong is formerly of the punk band Rancid - who were big in the mid-90's - and counted The Clash as a major influence. You can sort of see that same influence here, but mostly in the visuals.
Sweetnam is a Canadian artist who was nominated for a Juno Award in 2006 ("Tangled Up in Me"), and describes her next album as "Nine Inch Nails meets Britney Spears." Umm.
With a single animated lighting effect, the video for "Curare" rises from mediocrity into a fantastically taught noir-thriller. The pulsing rhythm of the music does wonders in augmenting the tense atmosphere, and the flash-back narrative only furthers the suspense. But it's the intermittent darkness, where the driver is left alone in the car, that really establishes the tone. In those shadowy moments all his fears come to life, but we only see glimpses of his terror. It isn't just the poison running through his veins, it's the guilt and paranoia racing through his mind - and it's the combination of these forces which lead him to lose control so quickly.
Check out an interview with the director over at Videology.
This fun little video takes it's cues from Gondry (who doesn't?), but nevertheless does interesting things on its own. The band have an exuberant sound, and it's the horns and beat of the song which give the video such bounce. The everyman tone of the lyrics are reflected in the story on screen, and the performances of the musicians are quite good in that respect. But it's the simple, yet effective themes of the work which make it such a joy.
The basic plot revolves around a man who spends his days dreaming, but is afraid to pursue his fancies in the real world. In his head he is building a grand machine from disparate parts, with the help of his trusted friends. But when he finally does wake up, to his surprise reality is far grander than his dreams. He's a (future) rock star after all - living a fantasy everyday.
This thinly-veiled (if veiled at all) advertisement for the new Spider-Man movie features a ho-hum Snow Patrol ballad and a rehash of the major plot points from the first two films. Yet despite the Hollywood influence, director Paul McGuigan is able to tell his own story within and independent of Sam Raimi's (and Stan Lee's) world.
The story of Spider-Man is essentially that of a regular Joe rising to the occasion to do extraordinary things. Before that fateful spider bite Peter Parker was a man who lacked self-confidence and felt the pressures of growing up. So whether or not he became Spider-Man, he would have had to face those issues eventually - just like everyone else. McGuigan highlights this point in giving a shining moment to the spider biter himself, the force that originally set the story in motion. The shy kid seizes an opportunity and heroically kisses the girl of his dreams - overcoming his doubts. It's similar moments of bravery amongst normal people, like those of his grandfather, that really sting Peter Parker into being a superhero.
They rarely make epic rock videos like this anymore, so watching one brings back fond memories of MTV and Guns 'n Roses. There's no grand piano here, but there is a heavy dose of November rain. The song is large enough to just barely sustain the weight of the over-the-top imagery, and the unique style of the band members fits just right with slow motion waterfalls and unbelievably heavy winds.
We see a woman trapped in a large sphere - her own bubble of self-doubt - but with the help of Shiny Toy Guns (and love) she reaches out to the world. It's her "tears" which finally free her, and the band is soaked in the subsequent downpour; themselves liberated by the music and emotion. When they emerge, they are all on top of the world - standing in the light of a newly risen sun.
Speaking of not forgetting, here comes Masta Ace to remind us why we love this game so much, and that Rawkus still exists. This is fun, confrontational and skilled artistic expression. From break-dancing to beat-boxing, the video showcases every corner of the hip-hop block. The opening of the work, moving from the neighborhood shop to the streets in one take, grabs our attention from the get-go. Masta Ace keeps us there with some slick couplets, and the rest of clip is filled with a downright rarity in modern hip-hop - positive images of society, black and white.
Moving from warm nostalgia to a scarier sort of future, this is a video that asks that we not forget - and slow down a bit. The 50's drive-in of the beginning later becomes digital animations in a studio, just as the song turns from simple pianos into a multi-layered epic. Favorite moment: the snow falling from one frame to the next, the way our memories blend and work together. It's a fantastic song as well.
On 2004's "Gay Messiah," Rufus Wainwright sings sarcastically of a "coming" savior. Throughout that track from his fourth album, Want Two, he makes illicit jokes, takes a dig at certain strains of Christianity and references his own role in this impending revolution - as "Rufus the Baptist". But three years removed from that album, the Baptist steps into the lead role for his video "Going to a Town" - the first single from his forthcoming Release the Stars.
Esteemed director Sophie Muller wastes no time getting to that point, prominently featuring a crown of thorns in the opening sequence. Wainwright sits below it, studying the woven chaplet hanging from a nail, while an open book rests in front of him. The struggle he faces may appear a bit pretentious, but the video merely matches the ambitions of the song - "I got a life to lead America." The crown on the wall actually seems to represent his inner "Jesus" - or the potential for greatness in every human being - and his ascent to the thrown is simply a recognition of responsibility to that potential.
Wainwright has claimed no religious affiliation, but rather a general fascination with "spiritual" aspects of life. His latest album cover features a close-up on a sculpture of Gaia, the Greek goddess (mother earth), which is part of a larger work, "Athena Attacking the Giants," in Berlin. Over time Gaia lost out to the patriarchal tendencies of society, but in early mythology she was a far more prominent figure. Thus the image of a silenced Gaia is entirely appropriate as Wainwright's muse - and a particularly helpful tool in understanding this video beyond its Christian context.
Cover Art: Release the Stars
"Athena Attacking the Giants"
The silencing of certain groups in society, including the gay community, is in many ways the fire that ignites the burning bush. In Exodus, Moses is informed of his divine calling byway of the fire, and here the inflamed roses push Wainwright towards taking the crown. But the fact that this is a rose bush, and not a mere shrub, is an important distinction.
A popular quote from that story of Moses in Exodus 3:2 is "yet it was not consumed," in reference to the persistent life of the bush. Here the thorny plant is blooming, but the roses are only released into the world through Wainwright and his music. After the fiery inspiration things don't just persist, they actually get better. It's a beautiful image of rebirth, and perhaps the highlight of the video, as Wainwright sits on his bed American Beauty-style and red petals consume the room.
Like that excellent Sam Mendes film, the video has much to say about the prohibition of American society. Wainwright sings of "folks who have already been let down" and America taking "advantage of a world that loved you well." The mourning women that come to raise the singer up on his cross are perhaps a reference to the mothers of soldiers in the war - or just death in general. Like the Weird Sisters of Macbeth, they foretell a changing of the guard and warn of the deceptions of the world.
When Wainwright sings of "a town that has already been burned to the ground" he isn't just singing of America's well-documented descent over the years at the hands of another Bush. Like the statue from which he gets his album cover, this album was born in Berlin - a town devastated by war just a few decades ago. In the song the singer is leaving tired America, which is burning, to seek out a place that is already covered in ash. That doesn't mean he is giving up on the country, but instead on a journey to discover something inside himself which can spark change. There's no question that Wainwright sees himself (and his music) as a special part of this fight, fulfilling his own dreams on his way "home." In a recent Guardian interview he admits to aspirations of being the next Verdi or Wagner. But even as he leads America on a path to salvation, he "ain't gonna be alone." One could interpret that as walking on the beach with God, or a lover in Berlin, but I think he's talking more about people - of all the other angry and inspired individuals ready to fight with him.
Wainwright clearly defends the right of all people to love, and the heavy use of Christian imagery to deliver this message is an ironic jab at the more Passion-ate members of our society. But Muller's work doesn't require you to read the Bible or study Mel Gibson films to feel its power. It's evident that the jail-like setting contrasted with the triumphant explosion of roses is a comment on the hidden beauty of humanity. And it's also clear that Wainwright and company aren't going to take this suppression laying down. The final shot of his face reveals a seething, fiery anger - poised for attack.
Though it might help if we had the lyrics translated, it doesn't seem to be a stretch to suggest this is a video about suppression and confinement. These are people who seem to be on the edge - at their individual breaking points. Even the smallest details, like a tentative hand movement or the sparseness of the set design, imply nervous loneliness. The grainy quality of the film even gives an impression that these characters are literally stuck within the frames of the camera. Yet there is something in both the music and the performance, from a small smile on a skinny girl to Karin Strom emerging from water, that also suggest the possibility of breaking through these fears of enclosure.
In one particularly haunting shot we see the eyes and forehead of a man at the top of the screen, and then seemingly within his body - where his chest should be - we see the same man hunched over with his back facing the screen. The video begins with a faint image of a woman, almost as if behind the pictures on the screen, and then ends with a blunter version of the same thing. In the begining we also see one woman split in two - or perhaps two women blurred into one - struggling to separate and connect.
The director seems to be saying that we all have inner faces or "sides" which we hide in response to social pressures, but occasionally they push themselves out. Or conversely we create inner models or ideals for ourselves (also based on societal pressures) which end up clashing with what we see in the mirror daily (for one brief second we see Strom as a blond). Yet if we continue to keep them claustrophobically hidden under our skin, they have the potential of emerging in frightening ways. Furthermore, our insecurities over these inner thoughts are precisely why we walk around in such tentative fear all the time.
While watching this magnificently fun video, one can't help but wonder how long it took to put together those pop-up images of the band. Then at the conclusion we might ask why, after all that hard-work, the director lets us see the strings which hold up the paper in the final shot. But that seems to be half the point - just as each page of the book emphasizes a distinct sound or part of the song, the strings are a reference to the process behind making this video. We are at all times aware of the unprofessional and hand-made quality of either the music or the visuals. It's simultaneously low-fi and expertly engineered; a mixture of raw talent and honed skill. Even as the live band performs in front of a white screen, we can tell they are on the set of a shoot. Thus when the band members begin to protrude Donnie Darko-like paper accordions, they are simply exemplifying their inherent "indie-ness" and their literal role in the production of the art. Maybe?
A faceless man tears through walls of image to reveal the dirty little secret behind all great music - which happens to be sex (not the best kept secret ever). This video does well making reference to concert posters and album art, the artistic brethren of music videos, but unfortunately the enlivened photo technique has been used before - and to better effect. The work would have benefited from a few more original flourishes and perhaps a narrative structure. Despite that it's still an entertaining and exceedingly good-looking video, with an especially memorable collage sequence.
While the painstakingly realized sand-animation is the most visually thrilling aspect of this video, it isn't the thematic focus. The fact that director Tyler James attempts a narrative, where others would have been content with the 300 hours it took just to animate the sand, is evidence of serious artistic ambition. The result is a very affective music video, despite its brief length.
The story is told mostly through a flashback from the perspective of a small boy sitting in his sandbox. Thus when the sand comes to life through his eyes, we expect traditionally childish memories or dreams of playful innocence. Instead we are abruptly faced with the realities of his home life, which are anything but "playful." The fear and pain of these thoughts is contrasted with what we normally imagine children are thinking about. This underscores the gravity and tragedy of the situation.
Unlike Pharoahe Monch's "Gun Draws" from earlier this year, which emphasized the possible violent responses of children witnessing spousal abuse, Low in the Sky choose to focus solely on the psychological effects it can have. For this reason the video seems to end abruptly, where we may have wanted some firmer conclusion. Yet most children who deal with violence or abuse don't draw a gun or heroically save their mothers from harm. Instead they bottle their emotions up, blaming themselves or drawing pictures in the sand that no one will ever see. There is a helpless quality to this cycle of silence and pain, but artistic statements like this are cathartic moments of freedom for those who have suffered.
"to animate the sand, i took the original footage desaturated it and increased the contrast. i made a dvd of it, and traced every third frame with a dry-erase marker onto a piece of plastic. i took the outlines and painstakingly sprinkled sand onto the plastic. each frame took between 20 and 30 minutes to create. there were around 600 frames to animate, thats roughly 300 hours or 12.5 days." - Tyler James [via Antville]
Another new treat from the dynamite combination that brought you last week's irresistible "1234." Filmed alongside that buoyant number, "My Moon" is a far silkier affair - matching the rhythm of the music with shiny glass, snappy dancing and an ingeniously utilized walkway. In contrast to the wide open space of an empty hangar bay, Feist begins bundled in a trench coat amongst the dark lights and blank faces of a busy airport. Her initial modesty sets up the subtle eroticism of the song, and previews the eventual loosening of that same tightly-wound coat.
The choreography has a spontaneous and natural feel, but there is tension developed by the dancers and the resisting movement of the conveyor belt below. The camera occasionally zooms in on the action as if revealing precious clues in a sultry thriller. Daughters also pits everything in complete darkness from time to time to match the tone of the song. The playful mystery and seduction leads up to the crashing climax of lights, paper and free-flowing hair - where the chaos is both exhilarating and frightening.
Feist emerges from that bridge floating across the screen on the edge of a moving railing. People dance behind her as she seems compelled by a moment of euphoria, her legs dangling across the side in the strobing light. It's a beautiful and graceful peak for a video that is as sexy as it is fun.
Feist leaves the scene in a joyful mood, literally lighting up the room as she goes. The singer herself is of course a major factor in the success of this collaboration. From the beginning her charisma and nonchalance breathes sensuous life into the purposefully steely set. One can only hope this isn't the end of the fantastic Daughters-Feist connection, especially considering the wealth of catchy tunes still left on The Reminder...
The band does a fairly good job of explaining both the concept and execution of this video on their official website. But we're most excited about the Arrested Development connection and the celebration of interactive music-related video games. Much like the recent Shins video, this is all about "awakening" the individual spirit within. Switchfoot have pretty much mastered the inspirational radio anthem at this point.
I guess this means it's cool to be obsessed with DDR, right? Maybe not.
What separates Lil' Mama from other pure novelty artists like Jibbs or MIMS is that her song is actually about something beyond herself or her possessions. While on the surface "Lip Gloss" may appear to be exclusively about showing off wealth and status, the video emphasizes the metaphorical aspect of the chorus, "my lip gloss is poppin," by turning the stick into a magical product rather than just a very expensive one. Thus the value she possesses does not come from her lips but rather her "magic" - which is represented as her musical skills.
Yet despite these efforts, and the scene at the very end, this is a video that still values appearance over all else. Just as Mama raps about different brands of clothing and accessories, the "dorky" kids turn into "cool" kids by changing into new clothes. Some of them also reveal new skills like dancing and jump-roping, but for the most part the changes are external. What's most troubling is that Mama directly quotes Beyonce's "Upgrade U" in her lyrics, revealing just how influential B's image of glitz and glamor has been. Though truth be told, Lil' Mama's track still has more depth than her inspiration's.
Furthermore this video trumps almost every other hip-hop video out today with its positivity. The choreography is fantastic, especially the hallway and lunchroom scenes, and the beat of the song is undeniably catchy. In the end, the video at least wants to be about valuing self-expression over money or physical appearance. Supposedly Lil' Mama herself came up with the concept for the video, which means she's got her head in the right place. It's truly inspiring to see a young female hip-hop star with some talent and intelligence making interesting music. Keep it poppin'.
This is the type of video that requires no elaborate description or interpretation. Its brilliance speaks for itself. From the perfectly flawed choreography to the energy of Feist's performance - all shot without a single cut - Patrick Daughters deftly captures the simple bittersweet beauty of the song. Pre-order the The Reminder today!
The Shins, who impressed with their Daughters-directed "Phantom Limb" earlier in the year, once again play to the strengths of the song with this fun little video for their super-catchy second single "Australia." Jumping off the prison or "criminal" themes of the lyrics, the group, clad in orange jumpsuits, decide to steal balloons from a local car dealership. It may seem like a petty or childish act, but when "facing the android's conundrum" even the smallest act of freedom can feel like an escape from suffocating mediocrity. As the balloons rise, these men take a momentary flight out of their dull confining lives. The same joyful respite the Shins and their director want to offer the viewer.
Not much to say about this ho-hum video, just wanted to point out that - to my surprise - this band still exists. The song isn't that bad actually, and they are also playing Lollapalooza later this summer. That's all.
Not sure if this is an official clip or not, but we'll take any chance we get to talk about Mavis Staples' new album. Her reworking of a popular civil rights anthem (which itself originated as a spiritual) is given a relevant treatment here, despite the familiarity of the images. This isn't just another compilation of protests, Dr. King and the Ku Klux Klan.
The most harrowing moment of the video comes 45 seconds in, when a black man is inhumanely harassed by white men as he peacefully walks down the street. You've probably seen similar things before, whether in high school history class or a documentary on television, but that doesn't really make it any less horrible. It's hard to watch, but an important reminder of how deeply ingrained feelings of hatred were - and how much had to be overcome (not that the journey's over).
The simple refrain of the song, along with images of group singing and rejoicing, also underline the impact that music itself had on the movement for peace. Despite everything that we see, from random brutality to large-scale hosing from the police, the strength of the people doesn't falter. Music has always played a substantial role in giving hope to the oppressed, and Staples' song reminds us how powerful a tool it was during the civil rights movement. It isn't blind faith, the video reflects pain and anger as well, but it 's a trust in the unifying feeling of singing a chorus that lets people smile even in the darkest moments.
In the post-Katrina orange alert climate of today, it might help if more artists were making this kind of music. But it's not surprising that Mavis Staples, a 40 year veteran of the music industry and survivor of racism, is leading the way once again. Buy the album, We'll Never Turn Back...
The opening shot of Alexey Terekhov's "Capital" features a wealthy couple under a sparkling chandelier enjoying their new remote-controlled television. It doesn't just look like a magazine ad from the 50's, in extremely fine-print under the picture there is actually a paragraph espousing the "French provincial" styling and $575 price tag of the set. Like every frame of this hyper-active video, it's intricately constructed and full of meaning.
Through some static on screen we watch men pour money into a piggy bank, illuminated by bright lights from behind. We'll soon see where all that money is going, but above the TV, on the wall of the living room, there is also a strategically placed painting. It's Napoleon Bonaparte sitting on his high-horse after a conquering battle - the ultimate symbol of pride, greed and lust for power. The combination of the bank and Napoleon forms a central argument in the video, but the target here is something more than just capitalism or imperialism.
The singer rides a constantly morphing animal, looking like Shiva while delivering lines like "I eat gold bricks for lunch" (translated). The imagery is dense, but there is astonishing attention to continuity and relevancy in the details. The necklace of Shiva - which protects from death - is here made of oil wells and nuclear symbols. The "all-seeing" eye is a clock with roman numerals. There are 7 heads on the singer, 7 animals which he rides and 7 types of guitars he plays. There are also 7 world leaders implicated in the video's satirical rant.
Six of them are clearly identified with pseudo-religious iconic posters (with the two Kims bunched together), but the elephant in the room is George W. - here disguised as the singer himself parading around the world in his blue suit and red tie. His heart is a piggy bank which can never be filled, and his guitar features images of the Madonna. These are men who have become gods in their own minds (though the singer calls them "Beelzebub"). From the top of this monster spews black oil, Cuban cigars and atomic bombs - not to mention the Tower of Babel.
In a way each of the world leaders mentioned seek to build their own babel (which also means "confusion"), as they hoard the world's resources to fulfill individual illusions of grandeur. They do so under the guise of economic freedom and global unity, but in reality all they really want is to own more. At one point Pieter Brueghal's famous 1563 painting of Babel is juxtaposed against skyscrapers in New York. Like that Biblical story, our modern monuments to power and "capital" have been destroyed by our own negligence.
The video clearly connects problems in one part of the world with problems everywhere else. A crazy dictator in Iraq doesn't rise to power completely on his own, and thus just as one hand of the singer strums a guitar, one promises freedom and yet another holds up Saddam's rifle. When we finally do arrive at "Babelon" (or Babylon), it's a chaotic mess filled with leftovers of war, environmental ignorance and social depravity. But is there just one person, country or ideology to blame for all of it? "Moscow" is written on an American dollar and Bush seems to be leading this brigade around the world, but each of these world leaders have their own harmful philosophies motivated by their own personal egos.
In 1867 Karl Marx wrote a powerful critique of capitalism called "Capital," in which he criticized the economic system for alienating and exploiting the working class. But most of the men implicated in this video aren't actually running capitalist societies - though all of them are subject to Marx's attack. Instead they hide behind big words like "democracy" to in fact pursue dreams of Napoleonic fame.
The video seems to suggest an aversion towards globalism with its crazy 7-headed conglomerate shilling horrible products and ideas from every corner of the earth. But the real problem is any one person, or group of people, attempting to force a single ideology on the billions of unique humans that live on this planet. In the finale the piggy bank-heart is destroyed and put back in the hands of the television viewer - the consumer. Having individual choice and spending money is OK - as long as we make educated decisions.
We occasionally draw your attention to exciting developments in the world of music video. This week it's VBS.tv, a new place to find exclusive behind-the-scenes footage, interviews and music videos from underground artists and directors. ...
Tired of "television's deathlike grip" on your leisure time? Looking for some smart independent news coverage? Do you want fun music programming without an annoying VJ? Well you're in luck. Shane Smith is here to give you exactly what you want.
Smith is the executive producer of VBS.tv, a new streaming online channel founded by VICE records and legendary music video director Spike Jonze. The website has a variety of content, from weekly series to documentary features, and is entirely independent. It's "on" 24 hours a day and consistently updated by contributors all around the globe. Smith was kind enough to share some additional insight into the VBS.tv experience with us... How do you choose the videos that are posted on the site?
It used to be people would make a music promo, send it to MTV and get on television. So the network was getting free content and the bands wanted the airtime. But now to clear rights for a music video you have to talk to all these people and clear 5 different things – why the fuck are they making these things in the first place? Music has become such a hotbed of litigation. So we want to show everything, but it’s just not possible. How did this project start?
It was a combination of things; and it was a mistake really. Spike Jonze asked us, “Are you guys shooting all your articles?” and we weren’t, we felt stupid but we also thought it sounded like a good idea. Then we put together this DVD, which was fairly popular, but DVD takes a long time; it’s 6 months after you shoot before you actually make the damn thing. Digital is the future, music and everything.
We have over 2,000 contributors in 36 different countries, and no matter how much marketing stuff there is - content is going to be king. So we said, let’s just start shooting shit, and then it was like, ‘whoa, we can actually make a TV network.’
Is there a theme to the content on the channel?
We didn’t start out with a theme, but as we started going to places like Baghdad and Sudan, we got angry. And then when we started doing our environmental shows, we got even angrier. So we definitely found our tone for programming like that, but for music and entertainment we just wanted to do stuff that you couldn’t see anywhere else. We’re all about counter-culture. They talk about the liberal media in news, but 5 big companies own all the news on TV, and they are all worried about whether or not they can keep Budweiser advertising deals, and so by definition they are conservative - there is no liberal media in television.
Why is this preferable to starting or watching a broadcast channel, other than it being cheaper?
The viralocity of it; being able to share something with everyone. Popularity is a phenomenon online, not because you’re on NBC at 9 p.m. on Thursday. It’s about the interactivity, the ability to make a show however you want, and we can actually say ‘hey if you’ve got a good idea or pitch, send it over and we’ll look at it.’ Being able to watch a program, send im’s to your friends, get on message boards – it’s going to destroy TV. How involved is Spike Jonze in the project?
Spike designed our whole interface, the look and feel, he’s shooting for us and he comes in every two weeks for 3-4 days and looks over pieces, helps with editing etc. He shot some of the Arcade Fire stuff you see up on the site right now, and is shooting a concert with them also.
Why should people come watch videos on VBS.tv rather than on YouTube?
YouTube just has everything, you might see this great report from Baghdad but the next video is a baby farting or something like that. And the Yahoos, MySpaces, Googles – they’re all going to make deals with NBC, CBS etc. It’s just going to be the same old TV content online.
What we’re trying to do is give you something specific and new; no one else is doing long interviews with Devin the Dude. What’s going to differentiate us eventually is a brand and content.
Starting out with a verifiable bang, this video loses most of its steam by the end. Nevertheless, points for the vibrant use of color, an exuberant performance from the singer and the song itself - which is all kinds of catchy. Of course the "others" being celebrated here are the counter-culture artists who freely express themselves in abstract and unique ways - like the musicians themselves. For that reason the video succeeds overall, despite the repetitive nature of the visuals.
Also, props to the burgeoning Aussie indie scene in general (this has already topped the charts over there).
In this entertainingly small video, Tokyo Police Club invade a quiet miniature town with an infectious form of rock 'n roll. The results are catastrophic for the mild-mannered man who oversees this toy community. The townspeople are liberated from the mechanical routines of their day, and the city is suddenly awash in violence, sex, and animals.
The toy figurines are at the mercy of the old man prior to the arrival of the music, but afterwards they slowly come to life. As Tokyo Police Club spread their sound around town, the people join together to destroy the system and overthrow their "god" (or "president of the world"). It's a short but sweet video that reminds us why music is so vital to the human experience, and why certain groups in society have always feared its power.
We start covered in the messy aftermath of a relationship. It's an inner war-zone of the mind that has all but consumed the people involved. But the use of the house isn't just metaphoric, the piles and piles of things - from shirts in the closet to trash in the kitchen - are actual physical objects that one collects while living with another person. Sometimes the hardest part is just lifting yourself out of all that stuff.
It's both a celebratory and solemn emptying of the head - literally disconnecting oneself from the events that have passed. Even as they "cough out" their hearts, the group find themselves intact. They are no longer lost amongst the debris of those intense emotions, and instead they can think clearly once again.
In Money for Nothing: A History of the Music Video from the Beatles to the White Stripes, critic Saul Austerlitz provides an essential study of our favorite subject. Tracking the growth of the form from its earliest beginnings to its most modern incarnations, Austerlitz deftly navigates a sea of information by focusing on the major players who shaped video history. It's one of the only books of its kind, and thus an important step in recognizing the music video as a vital art form.
We recently had a chance to ask Mr. Austerlitz some questions about his book and the current state of the industry. What emerged was a mutual nostalgia for 90's glitz, mandatory love for Gondry and Jonze and a hopeful outlook on the future of music videos...
Obtusity: Music videos are at a transitional stage right now. Despite the popularity of videos on YouTube and the actual possibility of video sales through programs like iTunes, there is the foreboding slow-death of MTV and video television on the horizon. What where the main reasons for writing this book now, at this particular moment?
Austerlitz: I’ve always been fascinated by the music video, from adolescence forward, and wanted to write a book that treated videos seriously, because I thought they were worthy of the kind of sustained analysis that I try to make use of in “Money for Nothing.” I wrote this book to capture something of the fascination, and the allure, of the music video, before nostalgia set in permanently, or they became the half-remembered detritus of the past. I wanted to write my book before the video vanished for good. As it turned out, that ended up not being a concern, because just as the music video appeared to be on the brink of extinction, the Internet took the video under its wing, and rescued it.
Obtusity: So do you see the propagation of low-tech cheaply produced videos spreading on the Internet, as opposed to the big-budget spectacles we saw in the '90's, as a positive or negative phenomenon?
Austerlitz: I see it as an unalloyed positive phenomenon. If you had asked me a few years ago, before the recent explosion of YouTube and other streaming-video sites, I would have said that the music video had entered a death spiral, in which the lack of television support or major-label financing spelled the end of the form as we know it. What the YouTube revolution has done is that it’s returned some of the excitement that had seeped out of the music video, but instead of giving it to the superstars, it’s given it to the no-name indie bands, and the art-school graduate directors who make their videos. YouTube and MySpace are open markets of video experimentation, and while not all of it is terrific, or even watchable, let a thousand flowers bloom! The cream will rise to the top, and there are more good videos than I find myself able to keep up with.
Obtusity: As a kid I actually loved the anticipation before a big video "premiere" on MTV. Will we ever see another 7 million dollar music video like Michael and Janet Jackson's "Scream"? Or is the era of video excess over?
Austerlitz: I did too, although when I was in elementary school, my family didn’t have cable, and so I vividly remember the Fox premieres of Michael Jackson videos like “Black or White” and “Remember the Time.” Those days, unfortunately, are gone- I don’t think any record label in these lean days is going to pony up $7 million for any artist to make a video. And you can see it in the videos- even the large-scale videos, such as they are, have lost most of their juice. It would be difficult to point to more than a handful of good big-budget videos from the last few years. The Internet’s rise as a locus for music videos has also shifted the fulcrum so that low-budget videos from smaller artists are where the action is at. The big performers, by contrast, are struggling to catch up.
Obtusity: You write on a wide variety of styles and artists in your book, who are the people whom you see as the most influential in music video history?
Austerlitz: I think that if we’re talking about directors, there are two who stand head and shoulders above every other practitioner of the form: Michel Gondry and Spike Jonze. I don’t think any other music-video directors can compare to Gondry and Jonze in terms of originality of approach, fluidity of style, or sustained vitality. That said, there are obviously dozens of other directors who have remarkable bodies of video work: everyone from Godley & Crème and Mary Lambert to Mark Romanek and Sam Bayer. When it comes to performers, I would highlight the Beatles and David Bowie as the essential progenitors of the music video, along with their respective directors (Richard Lester and David Mallet), followed in short order by Michael Jackson and Madonna, who are the key stars of the video era. Those four performers understood first and best what the demands of the music video would be, and used the video to their advantage by crafting a persona, and treating the video as an opportunity to play off and against that persona- a series of variations on a theme, if you will.
Obtusity: Speaking of current trends, what are some of your favorite videos from the last year or last couple years? What directors or artists are you most excited about in terms of their videos or visual aesthetics?
Austerlitz: I absolutely loved Green Day’s “Wake Me Up When September Ends,” directed by Sam Bayer. Politics are often verboten in videos, as they are in mainstream film, so I’m always glad to see them crop up. I thought “Wake Me Up” had more to say about the war in Iraq than 50 hours of CNN-Fox News blather, and was beautifully, lavishly made, to boot. In the same vein, I enjoyed Juvenile’s “Get Ya Hustle On,” which captured the essence of the anger and anguish of post-Katrina New Orleans. There have been so many other wonderful videos from the past year or two, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Most importantly, a new generation of talented directors have emerged- filmmakers like Chris Milk, Brent Chesanek, and Marc Webb. I also am happy to see that performers are still embracing videomaking as an aspect of their stardom, and taking music video in intriguing directions. Bands like Green Day and My Chemical Romance, Outkast and Missy Elliott, are keeping the mainstream video flame alive.
Obtusity: Many times videos are more directly tied with pop culture and celebrity gossip than a certain song or idea. How important are videos in developing image for an artist, and why do people latch onto them so strongly in this context?
Austerlitz: I’d actually say that music videos’ link to image maintenance is weaker now than it ever has been. Music videos are increasingly about the videos themselves, and the links to the performers are more about magnetic attraction- cool attracting cool, if you will- than anything else. Sure, the Justin Timberlakes of the world still make videos, but videos are no longer essential to the unveiling of their image in the way they were for Michael Jackson or Madonna in the 1980s. Instead, the real energy in music video is found among indie or no-name groups who are willing to subsume their identity beneath that of the video, and that of the director. The rise of the Internet as the locus of the music video has shifted attention away from performers and toward the videos themselves, and the performers who have benefited from it, perversely enough, are the ones who are low-maintenance, image-wise. The performers who still need to be front and center in every frame of their videos are not the ones who are benefiting from the resurgence of interest in videos.
Obtusity: What makes a video more than a commercial? And is there a problem if it isn't?
Austerlitz: Of course music videos are a commercial enterprise- they never pretend to be otherwise. They are advertisements for their songs, and their intention is to sell. They sell the song, sure, but they also sell a persona, a look, even a lifestyle. Music videos shill, and I don’t think that the grubby hands of the marketplace dirty the aura of the video. I suppose the distinction is between “commercial” and “purely commercial”- videos are undoubtedly commercial, but “purely commercial”? I’d have to say they aren’t. Music videos are short films. It takes creativity and ingenuity to make them, and the success of music-video directors in film and television is testament to the creativity of their enterprise. But they are undoubtedly built to sell- bands and labels wouldn’t pay for them otherwise. Music videos require the presence of two equal and moderately opposing notions- commerce and art. At their worst, they only represent the interests of the former; at their best, they adhere to the highest aspirations of the latter. But being true to commerce does not mean being false to art, or vice versa; they are interlocking mechanisms, and music video depends on the presence of both.
Obtusity: What is the future of music video criticism? Are there plans for writing further books on the subject?
Austerlitz: It would be wonderful if music videos could be included in the curriculum of film studies departments- I think that my book is just a first step, and there’s a lot of other interesting work that can be done in the field. I think that music video criticism is dependent on the health of music videos- if they continue to flourish, as I believe they have in the past few years, then there will be a call for worthwhile music video criticism. Without that, the impetus falls away. But I do think that there’s room for much more to be written about the form, especially genre and international videos. I avoided talking about international (especially foreign-language) videos in my book because I didn’t want to thoroughly embarrass myself, but I’d love to read a history of the German- or French- or Hindi-language music video, because it would be fascinating to compare and contrast.
Saul Austerlitz is a writer and critic living in New York. He writes a monthly column on music videos for the Boston Globe, and also writes about film, music, and books for the Globe, as well as a number of other publications.
There is an ongoing debate in the UK over so-called "anti-social youth" who are identified by their penchant for wearing "hoodies." Many public places, such as shopping centers and pubs, have banned hooded customers from entering their establishments. The case is made that gang-bangers and criminally minded kids prefer hoods, primarily because they conceal faces and make it harder for witnesses to identify them later. But most adolescents argue that "hoodies" are simply comfortable and fashionable attire, and that it's unfair to punish the whole for the actions of a few. Thus the "hoodie" has become a symbol of the cultural divide between the older and younger citizens of England.
W.I.Z.'s music video for Dizzee Rascal's "Sirens" is loaded with vibrant imagery, but one of its most quietly potent ideas centers around Dizzee's choice of attire. The hooded jacket he wears (and is forced to remove) is about more than a conflict between young and old though, it's the fear of the unknown itself. It's about those in power being afraid of "difference," of what they don't understand and can't see. And it's about exploiting those in a weaker position without concern for the long-term effects it has on society at-large.
Then of course there is the monumental foxhunt, which heightens the power of the video with piercing surrealistic metaphors. The uniform of choice for these men and women is the same tight red coats hunters in England have been wearing for centuries, an equally loaded symbol of status and class. These "sportsmen" break down Dizzee's door as he casually works on music with his brother (or son). Remember that the video begins with peaceful silence, there is no sign of any "anti-social" youth out for havoc in the night until the hunters lure the "fox" out of its hole.
W.I.Z. constructs every frame with an obsessive attention to detail. Dizzee walks by a wall spray-painted "only cowards steal from the poor." Later the galloping horses pass a yellow sign that reads "Smile! You're on CCTV" - implicating the government in this witch hunt. And when Dizzee reaches out to a woman for help, she turns him away while we notice a "Neighborhood Watch" sticker on her window. The look in her eyes is an assumption of guilt - a hooded black man turns up at her window asking for help (even if she knows who he is) and she has no intention of letting him in.
Race is of course a major factor in this equation. What is really hidden under that hood is Dizzee's black skin, his dark unknown face. When he removes his coat the director cuts to a shot of a women sensually admiring his body, and it isn't just about the sexualization of the black man's physical form. It's the power gained from reducing a human to a literal slab of meat - the thrill of seeing your intense fear thrown out in the open, vulnerable and weak. A type of blood lust.
It was common practice to rub the blood of the captured fox on the cheeks and forehead of the newest member of the hunt. Thus the cycle of discrimination and class mentality is easily passed along to the next generation. Yet on the other side Dizzee's young friend also witnesses the absurdity of the scene, and is now destined to be one of those "anti-social" youths. Dizzee is paranoid about "the sirens coming" precisely because he knows he is a target of law enforcement by default, the hood is almost a necessity.
But this cycle of fear and difference originates in higher and older places than the London city police. The young lady who receives the celebratory blood on her face is wearing a necklace with a small gold replica of the Queen's crown. Foxhunting itself is believed to be an off-shoot of the "royal" game of stag-hunting, which the Queen herself still plays to this day (thanks for that Helen Mirren). What greater symbol of the continued influence of class divisions on British society than the still (uselessly) present Royal Family?
On one of the horses that chase the black Dizzee Rascal down the street, W.I.Z. zooms in on a bundle of rope hanging from the white rider's saddle. We may not want to remember what upper class fear of difference and exploitation of the weak has led to in the past, but it's no coincidence the head of a foxhunting group carries the chilling title of "master." It's the most subtle and daring statement in a video chock full of them.
Music videos and silent film seem to be dialectically opposed forms of cinema. MTV started in the 1980s while single reel films where on the rise in the 1880s. The distance between Griffith and Gondry, or hand-cranks and digital, seems insurmountable. And after all, a soundless music video is a flat-out impossibility.
But in truth music has been a vital component of the film experience from the very beginning. The first public film exhibition (1885 by the Lumiere Brothers) was accompanied by a live improvising pianist, and after 1915's The Birth of a Nation, almost every film reel was sent out with a companion sheet of original music. In fact, during the "silent" era, film studios employed more instrumental musicians than anyone else.
Composers like Timothy Brock (The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari) don't get much credit, but their work was essential in bringing these speechless stories to life. Words would occasionally appear on inter-titles, but music was the true voice of the characters in a film - it was how the audience connected with the emotions of a piece. In modern times we find a similar relation in music videos, just with a simple role reversal. Now the sheet music comes first, and it's the job of the director to give form to the voice - to extract meaning from the song.
Tobias Feltus's "Conscious Life" is a near-perfect example of the symbiosis between picture and sound that is only possible within these two forms. They called The Jazz Singer a "talkie" in 1927 because human speech, or a lack thereof, was the real defining quality of the silent films that preceded it. Aereogramme's music contains words, but they aren't directly spoken by any of the characters in "Conscious Life." Rather they serve as our guide through the psychology and context behind the happenings on screen.
The Lodger (1926)
Since we can't hear the conversations, it's up to the actors and director to convey the meaning of the interactions. When the sickly woman suddenly gets up to leave, whether or not we can read his lips, we know the man is wondering if "everything is alright." And when his new beau asks about a strange photo on the wall, we can see the intense thought before his answer - "it's just a picture."
At that exact moment, as the photographer hesitates to answer his girlfriend's question, we can also hear Aereogramme's Craig B sing/ask "something I should bury, or something I should share?" The song is directed towards a "coma boy" who is struggling to find a door to consciousness. In many ways the ever present camera, which constantly reminds us that we are watching a film, is presented as a possible gateway to fulfillment for the photographer.
Towards the start of the video we actually get a perspective from inside the camera, as the photographer peers at his female subject. In the circular frame she appears upside down, and the lyrics of the song play "a place to hide under, a secret place to keep." The camera captures and safely holds this moment, later hanging on the wall as a permanent reminder of the photographer's feelings.
Yet while we might typically describe a photo as a moment "frozen in time," Feltus challenges the idea that art could ever be stagnant - there is quite literally life in that frame. In a chilling and breathtaking moment, just as the man and his new love are making out, the eyes of the dead lover spark to life in the photograph between them. In the next scene the man is visited by her ghost, and she asks him to "wake up." When he does so he drops his notebook (where we imagine he had written some thoughts which led to a realization) and is quickly pulled into the supposedly dormant picture.
Feltus and his crew take great care to be faithful to the silent style, from excessive eye make-up to the intentional over-acting (even making reference to early horror films), but the subtle touch of the modern effects are what make this such an accomplished video. Not only with the clever screen tricks, but also in the integration of the lyrical and musical content of a contemporary rock song. We've seen many videos mimic classics in visual style alone, but few have captured the overall emotional weight of silent movies quite as well as Feltus. It's no Sunrise, but one senses Murnau would approve.
When the protagonist steps into the photo, the inter-title reads and we hear in the song, "come bury your soul with me." But this man is only now actually "waking up" to life; his moments in that room were his moments of unconsciousness. It may seem odd to suggest that being trapped inside a photograph is a symbol of freedom, but watch carefully as the video ends. Though the two lovers are indeed inside the frame, they are alive, and we can see them move ever so slightly. Art is love, is freedom is consciousness. That photograph speaks volumes.
Yet there is a finality to it, just as the video must end, that photo must forever hang. Is it worth burying your soul in what you love to be eternally trapped in momentary beauty? "A bloated rich endeavor, or necessary care"? Would you rather be emblazoned on a Grecian urn, or walk away alone? We might answer one way, but we can never fully suppress our tendency for romanticism.
The third installment of our in-depth feature on Michael Jackson's video career...
The final chapter in Michael Jackson's career has yet to be written (rumors of a new album abound), but it seems certain his best days as an entertainer are behind him. Though Jackson continued to produce lavish videos throughout the late 90's, including the most expensive music video ever, his creativity in the studio and on camera was slowly waning.
Naturally the rest of the music community, partially as a result of Jackson's own phenomenal success, was beginning to put greater emphasis on music video production. Consequently many of Jackson's videos paled in comparison to the ingenuity and fresh thinking of his peers. Yet as the new millennium approached the star continued to break records and make big-budgeted, skillfully directed videos.
What we do see in this period is the crystallization of many of the themes Jackson has been working with from the beginning. From his intense paranoia to his humanitarian message, the singer manages to shed new light on these subjects even as he repeats himself. And though the memorable moments aren't quite as frequent, there are still more than a few worth searching for.
...start at the beginning with Part 1 of our feature...
A 7 million dollar budget might seem a bit unbelievable in the YouTube era of cheap video production, but in 1995 it was simply the next logical step for the biggest star on the planet. Janet Jackson was no chump either, and the two combined to make this a must-see debut on MTV. It went on to win a Grammy for Best Video and major awards at that year's MTV Video Music Awards, including best choreography and art direction (Jackson surprisingly never won a VMA for video of the year).
Mark Romanek's futuristic vision is a sleek critique of modern times. Michael and Janet are trapped inside a white-washed prison where their "stress levels" are constantly monitored by a Big Brother-like presence. When they do escape they find a world where video games have devolved and classic art is relegated to a holographic gallery. The brother-sister duo are dressed in stark contrast to their bleached surroundings, and their screams are matched with Japanese anime and smashed guitars. They are "aliens" in every sense of the word.
Their counter-culture movement is expressed best when Michael pushes on the walls of his cell or Janet tears at her own clothing. The real force being fought is that of suppression - everything from artistic to sexual confinement. What the video accomplishes best is a sense of paranoia and claustrophobia induced by the stifling "rules" of society. This theme reaches its apex in the completely white "observation" scene with Janet, where she nearly blends into non-existence under the "pressures" of society's expectations (she stands in front of the toilet as if to mock the male power being exerted over her) and injustice.
Part of this injustice is also clearly about race. The two African American artists emerge from their chamber's dressed completely in shiny black suits against the utter whiteness of the spaceship. During the bridge of the song, as Janet sings, the reporter on screen can be heard to report the following: "a man has been brutally beaten to death by police after being wrongly identified as a robbery suspect. the man was an 18 year old black male..."
Yet by filling the video with references to classic art from Andy Warhol to Edvard Munch's "Scream" (and maybe The Clash) - Romanek offers a palpable solution to the problem, where Jackson's previous videos had remained vague. Rather than the tacked-on blatancy of the panther dance in "Black & White," the anger that Jackson feels is channeled specifically and effectively into cathartic artistic expression - and pure unadulterated screaming.
Anyone who has seen the VH1 specials and feature films on the Jacksons knows that Micheal did in fact have a horrible childhood experience. From his father's abuse to the confusion of fame, Jackson was constantly under severe pressure. So it isn't too surprising that the star has described this as his most personal song to date, or that the video begins focused closely on Jackson's puppy dog eyes.
The Peter Pan-ish vibe of the video is exciting upon first glance, but there is far too little variation or plot development to keep our interest. The Disney-fication of the video doesn't help to sell Jackson's sincerity either. Though the song is clearly meant as an honest explanation for the star's sometimes strange or eccentric behavior, his decision to once again use fantasy over realism prevents the work from having the emotional impact it might have. Given that the song is already an admission of a fascination with childhood dreams, it might have been more interesting to see a minimalistic and bare production to emphasize the reality of those words. Or he could have simply added a more compelling narrative.
Produced by R. Kelly, this song was the first single to ever debut at number one on the Billboard Hot 100. Now that we've got the good out of the way we can move on with the sad truth: this is a horrible video. Isham, who had previously rocked our socks with the classy "Whatzupwitu?," shows traces of the same cheese-factor here. It isn't just the shots of mountains and sunrises which look painfully out of place, but the scenes with the nearly nude Jackson and girl are hilariously contrived and uncomfortable as well. The skinny star doesn't give his most convincing performance either, and thus the video adds no value to the song.
Here Jackson momentarily shifts his focus from purely social concerns to the environment, and Brandt directs a companion piece to the fantastical forest in "Childhood." The singer stands in the apocalyptic remains of an earth destroyed by human "greed," but he imagines his song starts a movement which restores the environment to its previous glory. If for nothing else, you have to respect Jackson for almost always making videos that are about something - he rarely wastes an opportunity to express his opinion.
Though these two videos where shot separately, they incidentally (or intentionally) work together very well. Spike Lee helms both the controversial "prison" version and the Brazilian remix, and thus he brings a unity to the contrasting visuals which illuminates themes which aren't necessarily present in each individual production.
In the eventually banned prison video, Jackson again uses stock footage of racism and institutional injustice while referencing the confined environment of "Scream." The inmate dinner scene, with it's pounding echo of the beat and sea of blue blandness, is by far the highlight of the video. It emphasizes the thumping heart of the song and, once again, the anger of Jackson's words.
The dark hues, closed space and violent imagery of the first video give way to a sea of colors, dancing and sunshine in the second. Yet both are centered around the communal chanting of the chorus, which serves to connect these suppressed groups of people across the globe. The second video also features prominent critiques of law enforcement, with Jackson taunting the police officers (dressed in blue) as the scene seems to be turning towards chaos.
But the huge crowd is held together by the beat of the music, just as the prisoners find their power in numbers. The robotic and aggressive defiance of the first video transforms into a celebratory and free dance in the second. The inclusion of real-live fans in the second helps point out Jackson's ability to incite such large scale movements simply with the sound of his voice.
Jackson is a rolling stone without a home in Moscow who finds safety in the processes of nature. Like the frog-filled finale of Magnolia, these disparate characters are united in this moment of rainfall. Director Brandt counters Jackson's lyrics about the "cold" by placing everyone out in the chilly weather, revealing that you can find hope in the harshest of places as long as you don't forget the value of every human life - including your own.
This purely promotional clip for 3T (who?) works fine for what it is up and till the super-imposed words flash on the screen. At that point the directors lose all hope of subtlety and in effect completely ruin an already poor video.
Somewhere between "Dirty Diana" and "In the Closet" this song wallows in mediocrity, and the video doesn't fare much better either. In the world of Jackson a woman is almost always either an evil seductress (out for blood) or a defenseless victim (easily taken advantage of). We never really get a positive depiction of a female, and that remains a curious stain on Jackson's career.
The full-length version of this video is an over-wrought gaudy rehash of "Thriller," with embarrassing dialogue and a weak premise (despite the help of horror expert Stephen King). Once again MJ is the lonely outcast that only the children understand, forced to use his powers to teach the powerful men a lesson in discrimination. A painful reminder of the lack of ideas coming from Jackson's camp at this time.
This fluffy techno video makes use of old Jackson clips and a sprawling club scene to keep our attention, but somehow shots of people getting their groove on don't mix well with random appearances of John F. Kennedy or the lyrics of the track. Speaking of the lyrics, is it just me or is Jackson once again borrowing from Dylan? This time I swear he was listening to "Blowin' In the Wind" ('how many people...').
This is in the vein of classics like "Remember the Time" and "Smooth Criminal," but benefits from the presence of real comedy - something sorely missing from the rest of Jackson's videos. Chris Tucker and Jackson actually work very well together (the song is underrated too), with Tucker poking fun at his partner while also making himself the butt of most jokes. In this way the burden is lessened for the aging Jackson, who just has to look more suave than Tucker. The appearances of Mark Madsen and crew are largely forgettable, but the video is directed well enough and features some strong choreography. Overall it's an impressive late-period release for Jackson.
This song and video typify post-Dangerous Jackson. Rather than asking the world to heal, scream, dance, feel the rain or sing together, this time he implores us to cry - but the message of unity is the same. Director Brandt keeps his focus on nature again while providing some impressive shots of huge groups of people standing together interspersed with close-ups, but the video grows a bit stale after a while. Nonetheless it is a fitting conclusion to our study of Michael Jackson, despite the lack of an actual appearance from the King of Pop. But I imagine at this point, you've seen enough.
NOTE: Jackson had planned an epic 20-minute Brett Ratner directed video for "Unbreakable" from the Invincible album. Though various reports circulated that the piece was to also co-star Chris Tucker and had gone into production, we couldn't find any clips of a finished product. If anyone has any further information on this video, please leave your comments below.
Our analysis of Michael Jackson's videography continues...
In many ways the monumental Thriller was just a showier and creepier version of Off the Wall, channeling that album's heavenly funk into a spectacular panoramic musical vision. Jackson was able to wrangle two near-perfect albums out of the same basic sound, simply by expanding his rock palette the second time around.
But by the time 1987's Bad was released, nearly 5 years after Thriller, Jackson's formula was beginning to falter. Much of the melodic heart of Off the Wall, which was cleverly toyed with on Thriller, was harder to find on the rougher and more chaotic Bad - obviously meant to toughen Jackson's image. The same process was taking place on screen as well, with many of the early videos from Bad featuring Jackson as a street-ready man in black...leather.
Yet Jackson continued to push the limits of the music video, creating big-budget spectacles and more than one short film as the album made its way to 5 number one hits. But even as he continued to succeed commercially, critics and the press began to focus more on his private life than his entertainment skills. The perils of fame influenced many of Jackson's videos, but didn't stop him from releasing the solid and slightly different Dangerous in 1992. This period would prove to be the second and final peak in the King of Pop's video career.
Check out PART 1 of our feature here, featuring all the videos from Off the Wall and Thriller...
How do you follow the most successful video of all time? If you are Michael Jackson, you try and do everything bigger and badder. Just as his album was largely a rehash of Thriller with a harder edge, this first video resembles classics from the past but is directed by Martin Scorcese. The full version is close to 18 minutes long, but wasn't nearly as popular as "Thriller" (it's doubtful if anything ever will be).
Despite featuring a major debut from Wesley Snipes (only seen in the longer version) and being helmed by the creator of Goodfellas, the main source of attention for this video was unfortunately Jackson's drastically changed appearance. In the 80's Jackson was the first major black artist on MTV, and thus his outward changes carried more weight than they might have in another context. While speculation about plastic surgery and skin bleaching ran rampant, the singer's overall popularity still grew worldwide.
Yet even with all these exciting side stories, the shorter and more frequently seen version of this video is actually quite boring. The finger snaps, shouts and other exterior noises are distracting and pull the viewer out of the experience. The longer tale at least adds some context to the otherwise random dance number inside a car garage, but that still doesn't prevent it from being ripe for parody. Scorcese adds a couple of interesting shots, but the main problem is that Jackson himself has done this before, and done it better. Though he still favored the non-violent approach, lines like "your butt is mine" are both silly and counter-productive. It was much easier to digest MJ's "street" persona when he was the good kid in the wrong gang ("Beat It"), but Jackson as the bad-ass leader didn't quite work.
It isn't just that Jackson's new image was unbelievable, it also comes across as somewhat disturbing. Rather than the lighthearted teasing of his adolescent date in "Thriller," the female fear in this video is real; not the product of fantastical zombies and werewolves but the result of actual social discrimination and objectification of women. Walking down dark smoky streets on her own, she is literally at the mercy of the males who hoot and holler at her as she passes. This isn't fun, and Jackson knows it. Once again he gains from placing the female in real danger and then "rescuing" her at the last moment. Except when he stalks and frightens the girl this time, he doesn't have the excuse of being possessed by a "monster." This isn't MJ's best video, but sadly it accompanies what may be the best track on the album.
Jackson lays it on thick for this socially conscious video. It's the type of video that has since been copied a number of times by artist looking for heavy emotional impact. The images move from harrowing to hopeful once we reach the climax of the song - which is sincere enough despite the bland nature of the music.
Director Pytka, who also did "The Way You Make Me Feel," returns with similar colors, shadows and themes. This time the lyrics themselves are on the offensive, telling the tale of a promiscuous siren who aims to wreck the careers of male musicians. In retrospect it seems that "Billie Jean" and "Dirty Diana" could very well be the same person, and one wonders why Jackson is free of the blame he places so strongly on Diana.
Jackson continues to try and impress us with long-haired guitarists and torn shirts, while Pytka focuses on the lower half of an otherwise unseen woman. MJ gives an impassioned performance, but the song and the rest of the video don't hold up.
At this point it's important to remember the astronomical popularity of Michael Jackson. Numbers and words don't give a proper indication of the phenomenon. Watching this video you get chills not only from the sheer size of the crowd, or the noise and fanatical devotion of the audience, but from Jackson's unfailing confidence in face of it all. Standing alone in front of this many people, not many could perform with such poise.
With the release of Moonwalker in 1988, a short film composed of loosely related music videos for songs from Bad, Jackson made a grand return to form. There is a minor plot involving MJ saving children from the evil forces of drugs (which later became a video game), but the key is that Jackson is back in his suave heroic suit - rather than the faux-tough leather jacket get-up.
Standing outside the club, smoke and light billowing out from the doorway, a group of kids quietly observe Jackson, their mouths agape in awe. He walks into a very tense atmosphere but immediately diffuses the situation with a very cool trick. He previously used the coin-flick in "Billie Jean," but here it soars across the room and lands perfectly in the jukebox, jump-starting the video. What follows is a highly stylized dance sequence, featuring some revolutionary choreography, and a nice balance of danger, sex and fun. A "smooth criminal" may have been Jackson's idealized vision of himself, but it's the undercurrent of playfulness which makes this so much fun.
Directed by Academy Award winner Vinton (progenitor of "claymation"), this beautifully animated video takes cues from Vinton's own work with the California Raisins commercials. But the stunning chase sequences are what make this such an exuberant experience. Jackson's popularity is both celebrated, mocked and vilified in this video. The other obstacle is society's laws against "moonwalking," which seem to unfairly target those who choose to freely express themselves.
The dance-off between MJ and his alter-ego clay self is at the heart of the video. At times it seems that clay-Michael is almost poking fun at the real Jackson's signature moves, while at others the animated version is equally amazed at Jackson's ability. Though Jackson wins the dance-off, he is subsequently ticketed for his impropriety while the clay-man morphs into safety.
It would be easy to laugh this video off as just plain fun, but a chase sequence involving rabid fans, paparazzi and the police is clearly about something more. During that run the clay Michael disguises himself as a few celebrities, including Sylvester Stallone and Pee-Wee Herman. These polar opposites are the same extremes Jackson himself is attempting to mediate. Somewhere between the children's clown and the powerful male is where he always wanted to stand. But perhaps the pressures of living up to expectations of fans and society made it especially difficult for him to accomplish that balance.
Here Jackson and his directors make good use of every wild rumor associated with the superstar, from buying up bones to conversing with animals, he creates a carnival that isn't too far off what many believed his Neverland Ranch to be. The tabloids and journalists are depicted as the lilliputian dogs who have created this mess around the giant star. But he is able to rise up and break through all their "dogging" after taking a ride around his own head. The idea being that Jackson himself is the only one who really knows what's going on up there. (a young Elizabeth Taylor also shows up in animated form)
At a time when Jackson's career was becoming increasingly controversial, the singer chooses to show everyone the size and variety of his friends circle. Even the song itself takes a back seat to highlighting cameos; everyone from Carl Weathers to Steven Speilberg is spotlighted. It's fun playing spot the celebrity for a little bit, but it isn't nearly enough for an entire video. Also Dan Aykroyd is surprisingly awful in his momentary appearance.
Jackson is reunited with "Thriller" director John Landis and the duo produce yet another epic. Premiering simultaneously on BET, MTV, VH1 and FOX on November 14, 1991, "Black and White" caused quite a stir after its initial broadcast - but not exactly for the reasons Jackson might have hoped. The final four minutes of the video, in which the singer interprets the movements of a panther in an effort to combat prejudice, were deemed too risque for television, and the segment was subsequently cut with a formal apology from Jackson.
Jackson had been grabbing his crotch on national television for years, but it was the violence, graphic words and the moment when Jackson actually unzips his pants - that really scared people. Of course MJ's intention was to shock, but as he stands atop the car feeling himself up, his power seems to literally come from his pants - which strangely suggests we can fight prejudice with sex. Jackson is trying to use his primal anger to combat hatred, but he tackles this subject at other times in much better ways. In fact the rest of the video is pretty good on that front.
Macaulay Culkin is your typically suppressed suburban white kid, listening to rock 'n roll in his room while his dad watches baseball and his mom sits vacantly next to him. Jackson offers music as an alternative to the stagnation of this lifestyle, and once again presents the child as the hero opposed to the stuffy adults. Music is also the key to opening up a world beyond your own roof, sending the stubborn father across the globe in his armchair.
The journey begins in Africa amidst a hunt, but as Jackson moves across the globe he is often clearly in the studio rather than out in the open. Their is a huge stage in the middle of the Native American scene, and at the end of the video the camera pulls out to reveal the entire set-up. Jackson has described his music as a form of escapism, and when we are on top of the Statue of Liberty with him looking out across the world, we are indeed in a fantasy. But his message is based in reality, and he is attempting to unify the world in song so as to avoid hate. Thus unlike most of his work, this is a video that intentionally shows us real people on a real set. The morphing technology may be the most memorable aspect of the piece, but it's the touch of realism which reminds us of the significance of the issue at hand.
NOTE: David Lynch directed the intro for Micheal Jackson's Dangerous: The Short Films collection in 1993, it can be seen here.
Starring Eddie Murphy, Iman and Magic Johnson, "Remember the Time" was another massive production from Michael Jackson. An Egyptian theme is mixed with general stereotypes of African kings and middle eastern women, but the time period is mainly used in reference to the song - and as an excuse to show some skin. Jackson is on the run again, but this time he is being chased because of his love for a queen he can't have.
There is a heavy amount of sexual imagery in the video. Apart from the numerous shirtless men and midriff-baring women, the Queen suggestively strokes her wand while she thinks of Jackson and the back-up dancers get particularly freaky. This is a trend that will continue into a few other videos from this era. It's worth mentioning that Magic Johnson almost singlehandedly kills the tension and tone of the video.
Once again Jackson fills the screen with cats and cat-like creatures, and makes sure to highlight some new special effects along the way. The dissolve into the ground is impressive, but the choreography is equally memorable. Everything looks so good you can almost forgive the hollowness of it all.
This is Jackson's at his most sexually explicit - lyrically and visually - and the singer's directorial debut (though Ritts is the main director). This is also the first time Jackson is drastically upstaged by a co-star. Drenched in a sweaty tank-top, the skinny older Jackson can't compete with Naomi Campbell's enormous sex appeal. The singer seems to be OK with Campbell's dominating performance - until the last few minutes when he shifts the focus almost exclusively to his own dancing.
"Jam" is an underrated song in Jackson's discography, and actually may be the best track from Dangerous. In 1992 Michael Jordan and Michael Jackson where close to being the two most famous people in the world (though Jordan was about a year away from his peak in popularity), Kris Kross where coming of a number one single in "Jump" and Heavy D was a relatively well-known rapper. These people alone would have made it a success, but Jackson and Kellogg imbue the video with a distinct atmosphere and style.
The smoky lights are familiar territory for Jackson, but some of those early tracking shots of him dancing in the abandoned warehouse are extremely well done. The camera also cleverly takes the viewpoint of the basketball, which is decorated like a globe. The lyrics are again about equality and understanding, and the climactic basketball game with the kids is meant as a symbol of unity. But the most interesting parts of the video are the interactions between the two MJs. It's especially revealing to watch Jackson teach Jordan his dance moves, you get a small idea of how hard Jackson himself must have worked to master his craft.
This video is fairly self-explanatory, but it is a huge improvement on "Man in the Mirror." It stands as one of the best "conscious" videos ever made, even if it is highly staged. Also reminds me of Jackson's epic half-time performance at the Super Bowl. NOTE: Another video, featuring live footage of Michael Jackson performing, was released in conjunction with "Heal the World"
Fincher brings his sharp and fluid style (made famous in Fight Club, Seven, Panic Room and most recently Zodiac) to this dark tale of mystery and deceit. The plot begins once Jackson's character discovers a card with the name "Alex" printed on it. He assumes his girl is cheating on him immediately, and though he isn't entirely mistaken, things are more complicated than he imagines. Turns out "Alex" is one of the many names of his lover, who spends her nights working as a world class call girl for powerful and rich men. Jackson's butler seems to be the one who unravels the elaborate system in which this girl is trapped, and she is punished by her employer for allowing their secret to be discovered. Women are again portrayed as dangerous and duplicitous.
The faces that emerge from pads of paper and blank spaces on the wall highlight the paranoia that creeps around the edges of Jackson's mind. This is a world that seems ideally suited for his video persona as we've seen it develop over the years; a continually suspicious character who is often left feeling lonely as a result. Fincher gives some weight to the tale by including a number of characters and keeping the plot interestingly complex. Yet it's his visual style which is the eventual star of the video.
NOTE: The first version of "Who Is It" was a compilation of previous Jackson clips strung together for this new song
This horrible video features guest appearances by Slash and other members of Guns 'n Roses. Nirvana knocked Dangerous off the top of the charts with Nevermind in 1992, and with weak efforts like this, Jackson would never recover from the impact of the grunge movement.
Some interesting concert footage, but nothing we haven't seen before. It's a catchy song though.
NOTE: An alternate version was released to promote the Free Willy soundtrack. The clip mixes the first video with shots from the movie and can be seen here.
This video is a tribute to Ryan White, a young AIDS victim who became friends with Jackson late in his short life. The most impressive moment comes right at the beginning, as White is being interviewed about the discrimination that he has faced as an AIDS patient. The kid is intelligent and an excellent public speaker, and one imagines his message is exactly what Jackson had been attempting to say over the course of his career.
We continue our study of the essential players in music video history with a three-part feature on the King of Pop...
Perhaps the most popular and well-known performer since Charlie Chaplin, Michael Jackson ascended to worldwide pop stardom just as a fledgling television network began broadcasting music videos on a regular basis in 1981. The combination of these two forces revolutionized video art through the 80's and 90's, making the music video a cornerstone of the pop culture conversation.
Though both MTV and Jackson have since abdicated their respective thrones, the impact of these videos is still felt today. Few musicians have understood the potential of the video as a tool for artistic expression quite like Michael Jackson. In fact, Jackson was a pioneer in longer narrative based videos. Working with directorial legends like Martin Scorcese, David Lynch and Spike Lee, these short films told stories, dazzled audiences with special effects, and carefully crafted MJ's public image. Over the course of 40 some videos and through three decades, he developed an enigmatic and compelling persona which was always based equally in reality and fiction.
Tracking these transformations on screen is nearly as thrilling as the music itself. Though many argue the influence and popularity of these videos out weighs their overall artistic merit, the pure electricity of Michael Jackson's star power is undeniable; a reminder of how fun and inspiring pop music can be.
Jackson didn't necessarily burst onto the scene in 1979, he was already well-known to the public through the Jackson 5. But Off the Wall was not the same sweet candy pop of his childhood. So while his first video as a solo artist begins with shy mumblings on a starry night, he is quickly overcome with some very adult feelings. This contrast between innocence and sexuality remained part of Jackson's image for quite some time.
Dancing inside a sparkling drink, MJ lights up the screen with early versions of soon-to-be famous dance moves. Some of the other environments are harder to read, but the entire video has a very chilled look. This paints the singer as suave and sophisticated, despite his admission of overflowing desire. But none of that is entirely essential, because this is one hell of a song.
Dressed as a disco ball, Jackson manages to avoid looking completely ridiculous due to the strength of the song and his impassioned delivery. The spinning green lights on a black background is a simple yet nice visual, and one that is actually oft-imitated.
The turquoise sweater nearly trumps his last outfit for sheer cheese, but as far as a performance video goes this isn't entirely bad. Mainly due to its brevity, and because Jackson's expression brings the emotions of the song to the forefront.
In the three years between Off the Wall and Thriller, Michael Jackson took his performing game to a whole 'nother level. And while the former may arguably be the better record, the videos for Thriller are nothing short of iconic.
Starting with black and white shadows and a trench-coated detective, "Billie Jean" is a film noir with a mysterious femme fatale and an even shadier hero. But the sharp tones of those opening shots are quickly diffused by the soft lighting of the subsequent scenes; pink isn't your typical hard-boiled color after all. Yet strutting through the streets to the cinematic synths of the song, Michael Jackson looks inexplicably cool as he illuminates the streets in a red bowtie and leather jacket.
In the end it's unclear whether Jackson's character is really telling us the truth about Billie Jean, especially since he is recognized by her neighbors as if a regular visitor and eventually disappears into her bed. Even as he flips magical coins at bums and transforms into animals like a superhero (both ideas will come back in later videos), the video intentionally leaves an aura of darkness around the character. But this does seem like Jackson's first overt comment on the paparazzi and press that would continue to hound him throughout his career.
In many ways "Beat It" is the quintessential Jackson video. It makes use of almost all the major themes in his videography: fear, paranoia, safety/danger, male power (hints of misogyny) and the ability of music/dance to build bridges between people. It also features some of the artist's best choreography and among his most interesting storylines (even if it is in reference to West Side Story). The smoky alleys, rough pool halls and shadowy warehouses would become typical settings for future Jackson videos.
As in "Billie Jean," MJ is the hero with the magical dance moves. But once again he isn't entirely removed from the crimes at hand. Perhaps he hears the noise outside his window like the folks who peek through their blinds in fear, but how does he know where to look for these guys? Everything from his manner of dress to his interactions with the gang leaders implies that he is somewhat familiar with these people. The song itself seems addressed to a friend rather than a stranger. He establishes his street cred while attempting to spread a message of non-violence. At this point this duality works quite well, but it will eventually prove very difficult to maintain.
Paul McCartney was no stranger to acting, having starred in many videos and films with the Beatles, but he is still surprisingly impressive in this role as the head of a good-natured gang of robbers in the wild west. As always, Jackson fairs much better once the duo are actually performing on stage (his sweater also seems a bit too modern for the early setting). The video co-stars wife Linda McCartney and sister LaToya Jackson (who strangely plays Michael's love interest), and was the second duet between Paul and Michael (1982's "The Girl is Mine").
We are meant to see the thieving group as Robin Hoods who steal to give their money to an orphanage, but they are indeed swindling a whole lot of people. Yet some of these same folks are seen later swelling with confidence, and that is surely a positive. It's an entertaining enough ride, but somewhat pointless as well.
"Thriller" was more than a music video, it was an event. Seen in movie theaters and homes across America and the world, it singlehandedly propelled the album from highly successful to the best selling record of all time. With it's compelling narrative, excellent special effects and killer choreography (by Michael Peters, who also helped Jackson on "Beat It"), it redefined what a video could be. It is the only music video to ever be inducted into the National Film Registry. The video was so popular at one point that it played almost twice an hour on MTV - all 14 minutes of it.
Landis, who had previously directed the feature An American Werewolf in London, brings a spooky humor to the video which is its greatest appeal (other than the music and the star). The zombies are creepy but comic, and the coy teasing between Jackson and his date sets a contrasting tone for the gloom that follows. The story within a story which may or may not be a dream, could have been overly complex and hard to understand, but it is deftly executed and told in a clear and entertaining manner. Co-star Ola Ray is particularly good as the over-the-top 50's girl terrified by Jackson's werewolf transformation, and looks radiant throughout, even as she spends much of that time not doing much of anything.
One of Jackson's common tropes is the use of fear and danger to attract the opposite sex. It's also a theme found in most horror films, but Jackson uses it in a number of different contexts throughout his career. Women, along with children, are often portrayed as helpless creatures in need of his protection. As he sings in his song, frightening his girl means he gets to hold her tighter. But it can also be said that no one, man or woman, is ever truly safe in the world of "Thriller." The evil head-turn at the end (along with the zombie dance sequence) is the most memorable shot of the entire video. Once more Jackson is both the hero and the villain of his story. Perhaps what he fears most is something internal.
The video also embraces creatures whom we might typically describe as "freaks." Not only is our hero part-monster, but the zombies are his talented back-up dancers. And none of the "villains", not even the vicious werewolf, are actually shown doing anyone harm. Jackson has always been one to preach equality, and grew up almost always ostracized from normal society. Here those who may appear physically different from us - even scary - are actually not so frightening. By putting himself in the role of the monster, Jackson may be inviting us to embrace our own "freakish" side - regardless of how society may perceive of it.
NOTE: We have excluded videos here from Captain EO, a 1986 3-D film directed by Francis Ford Coppola and produced by George Lucas in conjunction with a Disneyland theme park attraction. Mainly because we couldn't find a good version online, it is not widely known, and was not specifically made for videos like Jackson's other music films...
Though Jackson doesn't appear in this video (brother Jermaine also contributes vocals without appearing), his presence is felt in more than one way. From the chorus of the song to the paranoia of the plot, this fits snugly amongst much of Jackson's early canon.
There are a number of references to classic film here, from the Psycho shower scene to the "killer's viewpoint" of Halloween. There is also a definite element of sexuality and voyeurism (popular themes of horror as well), with particular emphasis on the shirtless body of Rockwell. It plays as almost the reverse of "Thriller," only with a male rather than female victim, especially when seen in succession. One almost suspects that Jackson himself, whose hook is the best part of the song anyway, is behind all the ghastly creatures Rockwell encounters.
Sera Cahoone "Only As the Day is Long"/Opening recently for Grand Archives has been a blessing for Sera Cahoone, as her sound perfectly compliments that of Mat Brooke's new band - exposing her to an immediate fanbase. But the similarities aren't surprising when you learn she is the former drummer of of Brooke's and Ben Birdwell's pre-Band of Horses project, Carissa's Wierd. Yet she's got supreme talent in her own right, and though one continues to wonder why these three ever split, we can't help but be thankful for this opportunity to hear Cahoone's singular voice.
The Grapevine
...The Walkmen debut new (good) songs on their MySpace...Radioheadpush the boundaries of video art (again)...Flaming Lips like the Who...Music video or Converse commercial? Or both?...
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"over-wordy schoolboy lit-crit" - The Guardian
Cover Art
"Cremorne Lights" by James McNeill Whistler
Paragraphs not Quotes
"Reality is a question of perspective; the further you get from the past, the more concrete and plausible it seems—but as you approach the present, it inevitably seems incredible."
-Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie
About
Obtusity is a music video and pop culture blog that sheds light on the meaning and value of contemporary art.All questions and complaints can be directed to: obtusity@gmail.com
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