Against Radiohead, or, Contrary To Popular Belief Music Existed Before 1990

I have made no secret of the hatred I reserve for the writing of James Poulos (a.k.a Postmodern Conservative, a.k.a. "annoying guy from American Scene"). His work is pompous, overwrought, rancid with unnecessary polysyllabic voodoo, and tries desperately to sound intellectual; he's like a smart Paul J. Cella, or a 21st-century Chris Lacaria. Reading his work is like beating yourself in the face with a thesaurus. (Probably Poulos angers me so much because I'm projecting my own fear of academicism and my cripplingly low self-esteem onto him -- but that's not important right now.)

Less often do I take issue with Poulos' actual arguments. Usually they're so far out in conservative neverland that I can see his preconceptions coming and take his (generally sound) logic for what it is. But this week, he's produced a great big article about a subject very close to my heart -- the generational politics of rock music -- that is so completely misinformed and profoundly wrong that's it's driven me to new levels of wild, head-through-monitor frustration. Here's a sample:

For the generations that came of age as Radiohead got huge, patterns of life seem to have emerged that mutually reinforce and confirm a downward revision of expectations. The band’s catalog tracks the increasing acceptance of a newly fundamental degree of contingency, incompleteness, and transience. It extends across careers and love lives, shaping attitudes reaching from domestic politics to cosmic fate. Many now seem happy just to find or help create the passages of experience that permit momentary and communal escapes. Immanent and transcendent, such fugitive moments of therapeutic authenticity ameliorate the painful costs of being comprehensively compromised.

OMFG SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS. Even if you shear away the clearly compensatory Hegelian verbosity, this is nothing more than self-important superfan wanking mixed with pop-sociology bullshit and -- typically of the "classical liberal" set -- a complete and voluntary divorce from historical context. It's just crying out for a response.

So I'll provide some of my trademark fair-minded rebuttals, some music criticism, and an explanation of why Radiohead actually sucks, after the jump.

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The triumphant return of the Sunday Screening

Ha ha! You thought I'd given up, didn't you? Just because the last Sunday Screening was all the way back in November -- well, seven thousand pages of academic writing later, I'm back and ready again to subject you all to mind-numbingly obscure bits of YouTube irrelevancy. Like the above -- do you realize what an enormous selection of TV signon/signoff clips YouTube has? Unbelievable. Every era, every location. I considered devoting an entire post to them, but then I decided I should at least make an effort to retain my tiny, precious audience... if you're interested, though, start at these nuggets of pure gold and work your way out from there. Nothing captures the aesthetic of a given time and place quite so perfectly, I contend, as its incidental TV graphics.

But what I've been fixated on lately is this fascinating footage of Mitt Romney arguing with a reporter. Look:

Now, leaving aside the factual content here (and the press secretary's incredibly douchey reprimand at the end), my question is: WHY would Romney's people put him in front of a rack of office supplies? My God are they trying to make him look like a bland corporate automaton? BALLPOINT PENS, for crying out loud. Not even an aisle of cool office supplies, like printers. No. PENS. You could not ask for anything more banal. The obvious allegory here is The Office--

--which perfectly captures just those mindless, soulless Ward-Cleaver-with-a-low-IQ tendencies that Romney's working so hard to hide. (I wish there was video somewhere of the scene from Season 3 where Michael confronts Dwight in an actual Staples; the aesthetic is just perfect.)

Speaking of The Office, I want to promote this video made last year by the Harvard undergrad Government Department. I'm late to this party (h/t: Dani Rodrik back in December), but it's well worth your time; who knew that Gov had so much deeply rooted anxiety?

...Really that's what The Office, and its derivatives, are about: anxiety. These are programs about people who are unsure of their places in the world, lacking confidence in the structures that are supposed to support them. In the Scranton, Pa., that The Office shows us, life is basically meaningless; Jim Halpert, the "beta male" hero, always gives that Kafkaesque look to the camera that asks -- both hilariously and heartbreakingly -- "What am I doing here?" We haven't seen this kind of ennui creeping into the popular culture since the paranoia films of the 1970s. It's an indicator of a nation, and particularly an economy, in serious trouble.

Mitt Romney's campaign, it seems, does not recognize this. They certainly are not playing the symbological game very well (as vs., for instance, Obama); he's running a nice conventional GOP campaign that will win him a nice conventional 40%. And meanwhile they've got Mike Huckabee, who I'll leave you with, nipping at their heels making just this argument -- don't let anybody tell you America's not a class-conscious society...

Open-ish thread: Music For War-Torn America

It occurred to me yesterday that despite the enormous political and international impact that the Iraq War and its contingent opposition has had on this decade, it's dredged up pretty little in the way of cultural flux. American popular culture cruises on, largely undisturbed by the large-scale catastrophe in Iraq, secure and happy in its comfortable prosperity.

I mean, if we're going to have a shitty war, we ought to at least get some good music out of it, dammit.

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