Author: wchipperdove

  • ‘Twas the Night Before Glib-Mas

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    ‘Twas the night before Glib-Mas, and, purged of endorphins,
    Not a creature was stirring – not even the orphans.
    Booby traps and alarms were set, in fear
    That old rapist STEVE SMITH might decide to appear.

    The Glib Ones were nestled, each snug in their bunk,
    Each Glib Girl and Anarchist, and reg’lar old punk.
    Both I and my mistress, who looked really super,
    Were succumbing to an alcoholic stupor.

    When, all of a sudden, ere I could rebuke,
    Our Glib-house was hit with the force of a nuke!
    (I exaggerate, of course, but still, I was shook up
    And upset at the interruption of my hook-up.)

    I ran to the window and threw open the pane.
    Dark clouds had gathered, the moonlight did wane –
    And above the night wind’s blistering howl,
    I heard a voice; no, it was more of a growl:

    “ALL OF YOU TROLLS, BE READY FOR TAKEOFF!
    STEVE SMITH GO IN HERE, THEN WE WILL MAKE OFF
    WITH THEIR GIFTS AND PRESENTS AND CHRISTMAS BOOTY –
    ALL TROLL FLIGHT CREWS ATTEND TO YOUR DUTY!”

    I cowered in fear, for from childhood I knew
    Of the legend of STEVE SMITH and his murderous crew –
    Eight ugly trolls pulled his magical sled;
    The very sight of them filled grown men with dread.

    I stood frozen in fear, stuck right to the floor
    And heard massive footprints approaching my door;
    Then, at the last moment, dived back of a chair –
    My door was kicked open, and then, standing there

    Was STEVE SMITH, in all of his horrible glory,
    His dank body hair matted and gory.
    He possessed two incredibly bloodshot eyes;
    Oh, and a phallus of enormous size.

    The creature turned and gave me a wink,
    And just as I was beginning to think
    That I was a goner, now it appeared
    Perhaps things would not be quite as I feared.

    Instead, he turned his attention to see
    All of the Glib-gifts under the tree.
    Then it hit me like a clap of thunder –
    His purpose and intention to plunder!

    All the things we had bought, he stuffed into a sack,
    Our unopened presents, he proceeded to pack.
    All of the firearms, sex toys, and lube,
    Our home-brew kits, our blow-up dolls – hey, rube!

    This was our whole holiday he was stealing,
    But as I stood there, I had the feeling
    That if I tried to stop him, he’d pound me, I knew
    Into a greasy little pile of goo.

    So while I stood cowering, tame as a mouse,
    The creature went all about the house
    Taking all that he wanted; why, he even took
    Every Ayn Rand and Hayek and Mises book.

    When he was finally done, he heaved a great sigh,
    And again fixed me with a bloodshot eye.
    Though the beast seemed to be in a jovial mood
    I had only one thought: Holy crap, I am screwed.

    But as I stood there trembling, my mouth agape,
    The monster assured me: “DON’T WORRY, NO RAPE –
    STEVE SMITH EXHAUSTED AFTER LONG NIGHT OF THEFT.
    ALMOST FEEL SORRY, YOU HAVE NOTHING LEFT.

    BUT REMEMBER THIS: GLIB-MAS NOT ABOUT EARTHLY THINGS
    BUT FREEDOM AND ALL THE JOY THAT IT BRINGS.”
    With that he stepped out, with his large pack fumbling,
    To his sled and his slave-trolls all a-grumbling.

    Within moments the over-burdened sleigh
    Rose into the sky, and then away –
    Leaving only a horrible stink.
    “No one will believe this,” I started to think.

    I was up the rest of the night explaining;
    I really don’t think I deserved the caning.
    Ah, well. As STEVE SMITH said, as he vanished from sight,
    “MERRY GLIB-MAS TO ALL! AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!”

     

     

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  • REALLY Old Guy Music: A Brief, Poorly Sourced, and Probably Wildly Inaccurate History of Easy Listening, Exotica, and Other Neglected Musical Genres

     

    Writing a history of musical genres, no matter how modest or brief one attempts to be, is a complicated undertaking.

    Genres are fluid, with poorly-defined boundaries, and tend to shift and melt into one another as time goes forward. Looking back from the future we can see certain trends take shape, as particular styles rise and fall in popularity; but this is really only available with hindsight. Such a perspective also gives us the opportunity to look at social and historical trends that reflect themselves within the music, allowing certain forms to rise up and take shape, while other trends are downplayed, intentionally or otherwise.

    It certainly doesn’t help the matter when the types of music one wants to talk about are generally overlooked by the modern listening public, as well as by scholars and critics. Jazz, rock and roll, rhythm and blues – these are all important musical trends, and certainly deserve the bulk of listeners’ attention; but does that mean that other forms should be completely ignored? To look within histories of popular music, or even at album collectors’ price guides, one would be tempted to think that these other genres didn’t even exist – like Communist officials who have fallen out of favor, and are therefore removed from paintings and history books.

    This is not to suggest that there’s some sort of organized conspiracy to never speak of Easy Listening or other previous styles of music; rather, the attitude seems to be more one of contempt: why would anybody want to listen to, much less talk about, such old-fashioned stuff? It’s all mostly white people’s music anyway, from back when the boys wore a jacket and slacks, and the girls wore dresses, even to a casual get-together. Squaresville, man – strictly squaresville.

    Given the current political climate, one might be tempted to think that such a backlash might be so racially motivated – if Black Lives Matter, does White Music Matter? But, it’s not quite that simple. If anything, it’s not Black Vs. White, but Youth Vs. Squares – i.e., Mom and Dad. The 1950s saw a definite break between music meant for teenagers, and music meant for a somewhat older and more settled audience. What we are looking at in this installment is primarily the latter.

    Part I: Easy Listening

    The genre we tend to refer to now as Easy Listening had its origins in the late 1940s when different orchestras began recording music that was softer, lighter, and usually offered no overt vocals or harsh instrumental sections that might tend to break the mood. It was meant, theoretically, to be played in the background, during dinner or pleasant conversation, without intruding or imposing itself on the listener. Rather, it could enhance moments of romance or relaxation, if necessary, but without overwhelming the given situation. In the commercial world, this took the form of Muzak, which was music licensed by companies to play unobtrusively in the background, soothing and mellow.

    Composer and arranger Paul Weston began recording albums starting in about 1945 that were slower and smoother than what most other bandleaders were doing – this seemed to be part of a larger musical trend where audiences were going to hear bands just to listen, and not to dance. ‘Hot’ bands and faster songs were also still popular, and always would be, but there was also a desire (probably more from the female audience members) for music that was slower and softer. Weston’s Music For Dreaming, released at first as a 10” disc, fit the bill perfectly. Calling the style Mood Music, Weston had a hit, and knew he was onto something.

    Easy Listening (or Mood Music, or Beautiful Music, as it was also called) might have been okay with the younger female audience members, but it was certainly palatable to older listeners – the parents, but also young marrieds who were settling into domestic life. The adults generally didn’t want to be confronted by the more abrasive aspects of much popular music; Easy Listening strode somewhere between Classical and Pop music; not harsh, but lively and interesting enough to make for a pleasant listening experience.

    In time, arrangers found that they could do Easy Listening versions of popular tunes that were never meant for such treatment. The results were ultra-smooth concoctions with all of the jagged edges ground down, and naturally musical purists hated them – but nevertheless, a certain portion of the record-buying public preferred these versions to the originals. The songwriters, of course, still got their royalty payments regardless of the interpretation; and besides, if one preferred, one could always go back to the source material. But the fact that – for example – the Hollyridge Strings could offer their Beatles Song Book albums and get respectable sales, while the original Beatles recordings were still in the charts, proves that there were two distinct audiences, each of whom had very different wants and expectations.

    This sort of thing, of course, further convinced the kids and the hardcore fans that Easy Listening was the music of squares – watered-down, milquetoast versions of popular songs cranked out for Mom and Dad who couldn’t handle the originals. In essence, this was correct. Not that Mom and Dad ‘couldn’t handle’ the more raucous musical styles that came along during the 1950s & ’60s, but they generally didn’t want to: Easy Listening gave them a certain aural satisfaction without demanding much from them. The kids might go buy a Jimi Hendrix album and bring it home to listen to over and over, staring at the cover and trying to grok every note, but generally their parents just wanted something nice playing in the background while they ate dinner. Certainly, from a more purist point of view, the kids’ motivations are more laudable; but does that completely invalidate Mom and Dad’s desires?

    Given its softer and romantic nature, Easy Listening was also deemed perfect music for affaires d’amour, whether it was a young bachelor trying to seduce his date for the evening, or a couple in love hoping to get each other in the mood. These days this aspect of Easy Listening is usually referred to as “Bachelor Pad Music,” or some variation thereof. Indeed, the 1950s and ’60s were certainly the Age of the Bachelor, when that lifestyle was essentially defined by the men’s magazines and other aspects of popular culture: not for nothing did so many album covers from that period feature lovely, buxom young women in glorious dishabille. Most were in fact quite tame – like those of, say, Jackie Gleason or Ray Conniff, which featured young women in the throes of romantic love, often embracing the male of their desire. Others featured women in quite a different mood, the look in their eyes unmistakably one of lust and animal passion (or so it was supposed to appear to the common male record purchaser).

    Another aspect of Easy Listening that may strike modern listeners is that…well…it’s really, really white. Not that black people could not, or did not, participate; but the vast majority of the genre’s progenitors were not only white, but seriously white dudes. Percy Faith and Henry Mancini may have been giants of popular music during the 1960s, but God love ‘em, they resembled high school shop teachers more than rock stars. Black record buyers tended to stick with the shifting landscape of rhythm and blues, jazz, gospel, and popular music during the time period in question. This isn’t to say that their tastes were superior, nor inferior; but much of it didn’t seem to resonate with black listeners. Who can blame them? It’s really not very funky; in fact, it’s practically anti-funky. But, by definition, that’s what Easy Listening is.

    Easy Listening began to fade somewhat in the late 1960s. Why this is, is probably a complex topic of study, but the changes in popular music that were taking place, first in 1964 with the Beatles, then with groups like the Tijuana Brass and Brazil ’66, then toward the end of the decade with the hippie movement when things tended to get looser and harsher at the same time – all of this resulted in a radically altered listening landscape. Even the music that the grownups enjoyed was changing. Post-Whipped Cream and Other Delights, softened versions of popular songs were still around, but tended to take a more modern approach, doing away with the heavy use of strings and multi-piece orchestras. This was “The Now Sound,” which had the same basic goals as Easy Listening, but used different methods to achieve its aims.

    By the early ’70s, Easy Listening was still around, but was barely hanging on. A lot of popular music seemed to be about excess, but there were also a few trends with a softer and more relaxed approach. Singer-songwriters like Carole King were coming more often to the forefront, offering a nice alternative to the harsher radio offerings. Songs from the ’40s and ’50s became less and less in demand, and when the more modern (i.e., post-Beatles) songs were desired, more listeners wanted to hear the original artists rather than some orchestra’s interpretation – so, the decades-old habit of doing ‘standards’ (that is, songs that existed in many different versions) gradually began disappearing. (Name That Tune notwithstanding.)

    It wasn’t until 1979 that the Billboard Easy Listening chart was renamed Adult Contemporary; it had held its previous name since 1961. But those two dates are each a bit late to the party; the trend had started several years before 1961, but certainly ended long before 1979.

  • But The People Of 2074 Will Love Me

    (Note to the Glibsters: This was originally written with publication in a local newspaper in mind, after I had communicated with the editor of that paper several months ago, with her saying she wanted some different (i.e., not so picayune) editorial material submitted. Well, I messaged her about this finished piece and she never wrote me back, so… her loss is the Glibs’… um… ‘gain.’ Anyway, that’s why it’s written in such a stodgy, formal manner and doesn’t have any cursing or STEVE SMITH references.)

    This past Saturday (June 23rd 2018), the U.S. Association for Library Service to Children (or ALSC) decided to rename the award they give now and then to writers and illustrators of outstanding contributions to children’s literature. Previously known as the Laura Ingalls Wilder Award (or Medal), and named after its first winner, the author of the Little House series of books, the honor will now be referred to by the more generic title of Children’s Literature Legacy Award.

    This sounds perfectly innocuous, on the face of it. But why rename the award at all, given that Wilder’s books have been widely read and loved by probably millions of readers, most of them children? Well, it turns out that, all this time, the Little House books were racist: they sometimes contained unflattering depictions of Native American and African-American characters.

    Certainly, these are not the first or only books written for children which have received widespread success and recognition, but which also aren’t quite acceptable by modern race-acceptance standards. Sam Clemens’s The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn are often cited as containing uncomfortable material, though the latter in particular can be read as particularly anti-slavery. L. Frank Baum, the author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, might not have shown much in the way of racism in his fictional work, but wrote several editorials for his local paper, the Aberdeen [South Dakota] Saturday Pioneer, calling for the extermination of Native American tribes. There are others, but these are the most frequently cited examples.

    It should be noted that each of these authors was born in the 19th century. Clemens, of course, became famous starting in 1865 when he was about thirty; Baum’s famous first novel of his Oz series was published in 1900 when he was in his forties; and Laura Ingalls Wilder’s first book of her defining series, Little House in the Big Woods, appeared in 1932, when the authoress was in her mid-60s.

    Each of them, therefore, grew up, and lived their young adult years, in a world completely different from our own: a world without automobiles, television, or even radio, a world where even such mundanities as electricity and indoor plumbing were uncommon, usually reserved for the well-to-do. They lived through the eras of the Western expansion, of the coming of the telegraph and the railroad. They were alive when the gunfight at the O.K. Corral would have been a current news item.

    Why, then, do we think it would be a good idea to judge their written work by our modern standards? They lived their lives in a world so different from our own that they might as well have been from another planet. Our era is not only separated from theirs by technology, but also (much more so) by sociological ideas. The idea that, for example, female or gay or black persons ought to receive the same rights and privileges as white men, would have been considered outrageous in the late 1800s. Simply expressing it might get one run out of town on a rail, if not prosecuted on some moral statute.

    Much of the world has moved forward on such things, of course, and rightly so. One can hardly expect any society to take a look at its accepted ideals and say, “All right, we’ve come as far as we can; we don’t need to ever change how we feel about anything.” A society’s morals and values are always in flux and changing, moving forward, or at least in one direction or another. To declare that things are now fixed and correct, never to be changed, is ridiculous.

    But isn’t that what’s happening now with situations like the award name change? We’re taking an item from a different time, judging it from our current standards, and, finding it unacceptable, tossing it over our shoulder onto the ash heap of history. It’s inevitable that we would view things through a modern lens. But where things become unsettling is when we decide that such items not only fall short of modern sensibilities, but must be purged from our sight altogether – not merely ignored or even seen as a quaint anachronism, but all mention of it wiped out completely.

    Certainly, no one is currently calling for the Little House books to be pulled from store and library shelves, or copies burned during some nighttime rally. But this is exactly how such things begin. (Keeping Wilder’s name on the award was apparently considered such a problem that a survey was sent out to members of the ALSC -as well as “ALA ethnic affiliates,” whatever those are- who voted for the change, 305 to 156.)

    If this incident were happening in isolation, we could shrug it off as a curious anomaly, chuckle at the stupidity of the ALSC, and almost immediately forget about it. But in the current cultural climate, it isn’t. Everything, it seems, is being dragged through a crucible process of sociological fitness according to currently-favored values (which are subject to change, but not necessarily subject to internal consistency); and very few artistic works of the past, as one can imagine, are coming out unscathed.

    This is all well and good, as society’s ideas must, again, keep moving forward. But while it’s perfectly all right to judge things according to modern standards, it’s particularly dangerous to do away with them completely, in the name of whatever banner our cultural betters might be waving currently. Judge them, chuckle at them, dismiss them if you like: these are all perfectly acceptable behaviors. But it is a horrible mistake of hubris to go so far as to start removing them completely – to start dismantling the old to make way for the new. In doing so, one denies others the ability to make that choice for themselves; after all, another person might decide he likes some of the old stuff just fine, thank you very much. And the reason for much of such destruction, it could be argued, might just be to deny others the chance to disagree with the destructor.

    There is no scientific barometer for social correctness. The soft “sciences” aren’t like the disciplines which can prove their hypotheses mathematically. In other words, we can never know when we are absolutely right or wrong. That’s why societies change their ideas over time. As things shift, people decide that, well, maybe they’ve been a bit too hard on this or that social group that they’ve been prejudiced against all these years. And maybe the heroes of the previous revolution don’t look quite so virtuous as they used to. People change their attitudes: but it’s far preferable for such attitudes to change gradually, by virtue of logic and experience, rather than by force or shame.

    So, judging 19th century authors by modern social standards –standards which, really, haven’t been in place very long– is a bit imbecilic. Could a person of the previous century have been able to see into the future, to our modern day, to see what ideas are in vogue? Of course not. Would she even change her own attitudes, if she could see into our world? The very idea is preposterous. Would she even understand what we’re talking about? More than likely, our society would seem like a mad anarchy to her. After all, she lived in her own world, not ours; so why would we not expect her to generally conform to our values? Again, the entire premise is ridiculous.

    But, wait. What if current authors are going to be judged by our future society? What if the cultural critics of, say, 2137 decide that we’re all just a bunch of barbaric rubes? Absent any time-travel technology, shouldn’t we put our finest historians, our most decorated social critics, to the task of figuring out what future persons will think of us, and then change our opinions so as to please them?

    No. Because that would be completely stupid.

    Stop trying to dismantle the past and rewrite history. Let people make up their own minds. After all, we’re all of us going to be history quite soon enough.

    (Note: a pdf outlining the ALSC’s decision-making process can be found here)

  • My New Religion, Sort Of

    I’m working hard to put aside my ingrained Southern Baptist upbringing to embrace a new faith, a new belief system and way of looking at the world.

    I’m talking, of course, about embracing the Force… you know, like from Star Wars.

    Now, hold on, hear me out. In the Star Wars films, which I started enjoying at the prime age of 10 with the first one released, we are told that the Force is kind of an energy field that permeates the entire universe; it flows within us and between us, binding all living and nonliving matter together into a cohesive whole.

    Now, if we were to put a more human face on this concept, it would resemble nothing so much as… gee, Davey… well, our traditional notion of God.

    We are told that God, whatever He or It is, is manifest in all things: that nothing within the material or ethereal multiverse exists outside His influence. Nevertheless, we tend to cast God in our own image, more or less. He resembles a human – usually an elderly man, full of gravitas, who’s still fairly handsome in his later years, like that World’s Most Interesting Man from the beer commercials. In other words, we tend to personify God, to think of Him as a conscious being, much as we ourselves are.

    Therein lies a conundrum. On the one hand, we think of God as all-knowing, all-seeing, a thousand times more wise than ourselves, and a million times more knowledgeable. We’re told that He has a plan, and for our small part, we somehow fit into that plan. But oftentimes His plan may seem a bit cruel to us: a natural disaster, war, the death of a loved one or child, can shake our faith in His intentions. How could a God, the God who so loves us (we are constantly told), allow such horrible things to happen? If the death of a child is part of His plan, then shouldn’t we say to Hell with that plan, as we would that of any mortal leader?

    Perhaps, then, our problem lies in thinking of God as a conscious being like ourselves in the first place. Now, this goes against hundreds, perhaps thousands of years of worldwide traditional religious thinking, although to be fair humanity’s gods have already taken innumerable shapes and visages. But maybe that belief isn’t quite accurate – after all, we don’t know the true nature of God and are only surmising as best as our human intellects can reckon.

    What if we think of God a different way – not as a sentient being with thoughts and consciousness, but more as a free-floating aspect of the universe itself, an energy field (the Zero Point Energy? Quantum weirdness?) that permeates everything, even the supposed vacuum separating worlds? Maybe it has some sort of Will or vast Cosmic Consciousness, but not in the traditional way we usually think of.

    Whenever something bad happens, traditional Christians will tend to shrug and proclaim it as ‘God’s Will,’ which means they don’t understand or necessarily approve of it, but reckon that God has a bigger purpose in mind and this current calamity is simply part of His plan – we just don’t have his grand view of the larger scheme.

    With the Force, such a concept becomes more rational. We can see unfortunate events as happening not because of some Supreme Being’s whim, but instead as the result of a vast number of forces, many of them unseen or even immeasurable, ebbing and flowing to produce the chaos that is our reality. If that’s the case, then we can more dispassionately observe calamitous events: Could you lose faith in gravity? Would you swear vengeance against magnetism? If the universe is run not by conscious control but by inevitable forces eternally mixing and playing against one another, such questions become meaningless.

    Of course, such a belief system opens up innumerable cans of worms. In such a system, do we truly have Free Will? Can the Force bend somewhat to our will, as the Jedi Knights of the films are able to cause? Is the Force a thing to be worshipped, or is it basically just window dressing for atheism? Is there room for such a thing as morality?

    As to that last question, much is made in the films of the so-called Dark Side of the Force, which bad guys use to become very powerful. It’s fed by hate, lust, desire for power, all of the notions that are traditionally seen as being negative. If the Force truly exists, would such a negative aspect exist also – the Force soured, perhaps coagulated or stagnant, which seeps into human activities just as much as its counterpart? After all, it’s difficult to think of such a concept without also embracing its polar opposite: One can hardly have Yin without Yang, a cat without a fine rat, protons without electrons, etc. In our grasp for meaning, such a duality strikes us as being ‘fair,’ an explanation for why so much misery and corruption tend to exist in our perceived reality.

    I’ll be the first to admit, I don’t have answers to any of these questions. I might be barking up the wrong Yggdrasil and committing the worst sort of heresy. But personally, I think it makes as much sense as any other belief system. After all, none of us knows for certain, and we’ve precious little evidence one way or another.

    How does this tie into libertarianism? Well, for me, it has to do with traditional religion and faith. I’ve always had a problem with the idea of ‘worshipping’ someone, or something. To prostrate oneself before a person, or a concept, to declare “I’m nothing and you’re everything,” strikes me as particularly unhealthy. Maybe I’m a heretic for even pondering this, but I think such a surrendering of the will is one of the worst practices mankind has ever performed and a huge part of why the world is the way it is.

    Maybe it’s my youthful reading of Heinlein coming out, but I believe the value of human beings lies primarily in our ferociousness, our tenacity, our will to survive and to thrive: not to bow to those who would demand our fealty, but to spit in their eye. There’s a reason why humans have conquered this world and molded it to suit us, and it’s not just because of our intelligence: it’s because that’s the way we wanted it, and we weren’t going to stop until either reality folded, or we did.

    Belief in the Force, then, is a religion which suits my nonconformist self to a T. I don’t have to pay a tithe, I don’t have to give deference to a priestly caste. Heck, I can sleep in as late as I want on Sunday morning. I can make up my own goofy rituals if I want to.

    I’m not here to try to make any converts; I just wanted to put the concept out there and see what varieties of tomatoes you mugs can throw at it. Maybe I’m just a loon for coming up with the idea in the first place.

    But in any case… hey, you knew this was coming: may the Force be with you all.

    Or not.

    Whatevs.

    P.S. – Midichlorians are a bunch of hooey.