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Pretty Random

@ellisjudd

Talking to nobody about nothing.

Raise your children Beastie

I have three kids, a four-year-old boy and boy/girl twins who are one, and since they were born one of my main goals has been to expose them to a lot of music. The first song my oldest heard was "Norwegian Wood," and at first we mostly listened to the Beatles and jazz (with a lot of other stuff mixed in, but a strong foundation of the Beatles seemed like a good place to start). But about a year ago something unexpected and awesome happened: my then three-year-old fell in love with the Beastie Boys. And I just want to highly recommend the Boys to all the other parents out there. Now, I mean, I always liked the Beastie Boys, but if you had asked me a year ago to list my favorite bands, I don't think they would've cracked the top 20. They were important to me at various stages: "Fight for your Right" came out when I was about six, and Licensed to Ill was one of the first tapes I ever owned. Check your Head came as I was discovering alternative/punk and skateboarding in middle school. And then in high school, as I began exploring psychedelia, I went back and found Paul's Boutique. But to be honest, I'd kinda slept on the Boys since Hello Nasty. Until one day my son was doing the rap from "Everything is Awesome" (from the Lego movie), and I was like "You know what this reminds me of?", and threw on Licensed for him. The rest is history. I don't think you could pick a better single artist for your kids to grow up listening to than the Beastie Boys. There are a few reasons why I think this. Musically, I can't think of a more eclectic oeuvre, in terms of genre: listening to the Beasties exposes you to large doses of hip-hop (obvs), punk, instrumental funk, and smaller doses of all sorts of shit, from country (tongue-in-cheek, I think/hope) to bossa nova. They are a gateway, and they wear their influences on their sleeve. They open up whole musical universes. They are also great for language: listening to them rap has gotten my son thinking about words and rhymes in a real, organic way. As an English teacher, I feel we should get kids learning poetry early. Why not start with "The New Style" and "Pass the Mic"? (To be fair, he's also learned a lot of "bad" words, too, but I'm fine with that. We just tell him it's okay to use those words to make art, but not so much at school.) But there are also deeper lessons to be learned from the Boys. Like the lesson about friendship. All bands are driven by the creative friction of relationships; otherwise everyone would just go solo. The boys were together and creative for what, 30 years? And their relationship is the subject of a lot of their best rhymes. And the lesson about growth. The early Beastie lyrics, as is well-known, are sometimes problematic, particularly in terms of their treatment of women. But who didn't have some problem attitudes in their early 20s? The important thing is that we learn and grow, something the Boys did quite visibly: "Here's a little something that's long overdue..." And the lesson about loss. Kids have to figure out the whole death thing, somehow. The tragic loss of MCA has given us a chance to talk about it, as a family, and in funny way, grieve together. And, you know, bottom-line: their records are just a lot of fun to listen to. Sure, the kids tear up the living room listening to "Fight for your Right" and "Sabotage", but I think the benefits outweigh the costs. I recommend it to everyone. Raise your children Beastie.

Another list: official Jazz Icons

Here are my picks for the 10 most iconic jazz artists, in roughly chronological order:

1. Louis Armstrong 2. Duke Ellington 3. Billie Holiday 4. Charlie Parker 5. Dizzie Gillespie 6. Thelonious Monk 7. Charles Mingus 8. Miles Davis 9. John Coltrane 10. Ornette Coleman (R.I.P.)

I’ve had this list in my head since last June (Saratoga Jazz Fest), but I hadn’t filled the last spot; after this week’s Ornette Coleman Memorial Broadcast on WKCR, I’ve decided he really deserves the last spot.

I don’t know that much about real early jazz artists; my idea of “jazz” really begins with swing. And even then, my listening to #s 1,2,3 & 5 is pretty limited, though my respect is great. This isn’t a list of my “favorite” artists, but the ones I think are most iconic, the ones every American child should learn about in school. There’s a lot of people I love who aren’t on the list.

Best songs on the radio, 2014-15 school year

I spent about two hours a day in the car commuting to work this year, generally listening to top 40 / alternative radio stations. Here are some songs I hoped would get played more often.

Sia, “Chandelier” Taylor Swift, “Shake It Off” and “Style” Ariana Grande, "One Last Time" Nick Jonas, "Jealous", but then i got really sick of it DJ Snake & Aluna George, “You Know You Like It” San Fermin, “Sonsick” (not new, but new to me) Shakey Graves, “Dearly Departed” Alabama Shakes, “Don’t Wanna Fight”

I’m forgetting a bunch of stuff.

Joanna Newsom playlist

"Good Intentions Paving Company" "Peach, Plum, Pear" "Soft as Chalk" "Emily" "Does Not Suffice"

Because life is difficult. Because the world is hard to understand. Because it's hard to understand consciousness, and language, and history, and emotion. It's hard to understand your self, who you are, the way you become who you are, what really goes on in your head. And it's REALLY hard, in fact pretty much impossible, to understand other people. And that's what Joyce was trying to represent.

Me, giving a stirring speech to a group of imaginary students in my head in the shower this morning, in response to the question "Why did Joyce make Ulysses so difficult to understand?"

My Five-Week Plan to teach Finnegans Wake

In my last semester of college, about a dozen years ago, I "read" all four of James Joyce's major works in five months: it was in a graduate seminar on Joyce, and we spent about 8 weeks each on Ulysses and Finnegans Wake. (Dubliners and Portrait I read over Xmas break, in preparation; I think I also read The Odyssey.) I use the scare quotes around "read" because I think the later works of Joyce highlight the fact that you don't really "read" anything when you read it for the first time, especially for a class -- a better term would be "was exposed to." People always laugh when I tell them we "read" the Wake in half a semester, but I think it was a great way to get a feel for it; I certainly fell in love. At any rate, since then I've been obsessed with Joyce, and I've also taught a number of college literature classes, so as you might have guessed, it's my dream to teach a version of this seminar. I'd keep the 8 week structure for Ulysses, but I think I'd spend the first few weeks on the earlier works (in the class I took we went over them on the first day), and then spend the last 5 weeks on the Wake. How would we do the Wake in five weeks? Well, we wouldn't read it all, and we wouldn't read it in order. Here's what I would do:

WEEK 1: I.1 and I.8 -- I think you should start from the beginning, of course, and get the "overture" out of the way, but then I think it's a good idea to read ALP, the easiest and prettiest chapter (in my opinion). Also, then I would open the first session by listening to Joyce read the end of ALP, which should help.

WEEK 2: II.3 (end), all of II.4, and I.2 [optional: I.3 and I.4] -- In the second session I would skip to the earliest sketches, "Roderick O'Conor" (380-382), "Tristan & Isolde" / "MaMaLuJo" (383-399), and "Here Comes Everybody" (30-33). This would be a good time to talk about the composition process and genetic studies.  

WEEK 3: I.5 and I.6 [optional: II.1 and II.2] -- Then I would move to the more meta stuff, the Letter and the Quiz, which I find really opens the book up and clarifies things, in a weird way. At this point I would want to at least glance at the first half of book II as well, especially the opening section (which I think pairs well with the quiz), and "The Triangle" (which leads nicely into session 4).   

WEEK 4: I.7 and III.1 [optional: III.2 and III.3] -- "Shem" and "Shaun": 'nuff said.

WEEK 5: III.4 and IV [optional: II.3] -- And I would end with the end, probably the most difficult chapters we will discuss, but so important. Students who really want to abuse themselves can then go back and read II.3, which is the last chapter Joyce composed.

The Beatles, Abbey Road

The Beatles, Rubber Soul

The Beatles, "White Album"

Bjork, Vespertine

Jeff Buckley, Grace

John Coltrane, A Love Supreme

Miles Davis, Kind of Blue

Grateful Dead, Europe 72

Jimi Hendrix, Axis: Bold as Love

Jesus Christ Superstar, Original Cast Recording

Nirvana, Nevermind

Nirvana, In Utero

Pavement. Crooked Rain Crooked Rain

Pixies, Doolittle

Radiohead, Ok Computer

Rolling Stones, Exile on Main Street

Paul Simon, Graceland

Smashing Pumpkins, Siamese Dream

Sonic Youth, Sister

Sonic Youth, Daydream Nation

Spoon, Gimme Fiction

At the moment I am reading (in order of most recently looked at): Dhalgren, by Samuel R. Delany, for #AutumnalCity (reread) Every Love Story is a Ghost Story: A Life of David Foster Wallace, by DT Max Cloud Atlas, by David Mitchell Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, by Suzanna Clarke (reread) Before Watchmen, various authors (comics) Tintin and the Secret of Literature, by Tom McCarthy I Henry IV, Shakespeare The Ambassadors, by Henry James (been working on this since January, kinda stalled) Swann's Way, Proust (working/stalled on this even longer, almost done) Finnegans Wake (always)

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#OccupyGaddis began as a hashtag

…but has turned into much more.

When the Los Angeles Review of Books approached me about reviewing William Gaddis’s 1975 novel J R, I jumped at the opportunity. As I mentioned in my first post, Gaddis has long been on my literary-historical radar, but I’ve never managed to get around to reading him, despite spending ten years as a Ph.D. student and postdoc specializing in postwar U.S. lit. Reading and struggling through Gaddis with a group of dedicated companions seems like the very best way to go about tackling J R for the first time. To my great surprise, J R is less of a struggle than I expected and lots of fun, Which is not to say it’s easy in a conventional sense.

Because #OccupyGaddis is a collective enterprise – because I’m learning so much from others who’re involved – I want to dedicate my second post here to aggregating a number of comments that have already been written on a variety of other sites, and introducing Sonia Johnson, a Ph.D. student at the University of Iowa, who will be joining me here to write about the Gaddis Archives at Washington University’s Department of Special Collections and other Gaddis-related subjects on LARBlog.

Thanks for the shout-out, Lee!

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“The accidental progenitor of the blogorrheic style is David Foster Wallace. What distinguishes Wallace’s writing from the prose it begot is a fusion of the scrupulous and the garrulous; all of our colloquialisms, typically diffusing a mist of vagueness over the world, are pressed into the service of exactness. To a generation of writers, the DFW style was the sound of telling the truth, as — in an opposite way — the flat declaratives and simplified vocabulary of Hemingway were for a different generation. But an individual style, terse or wordy, can breed a generalized mannerism, and the path once cleared to saying things truly and well is now an obstacle course. In the case of the blogorrheic style, institutional and technological pressures coincided with Wallace’s example. Bloggers (which more and more is just to say writers) had little or no editing to deal with, and if they blogged for money they needed to produce, produce. The combination discouraged the stylistic virtues of concision, selectivity, and impersonality.”

I feel like the n+1 editors are trying to sound profound but end up sounding profoundly unoriginal. Like this paragraph, isn't it basically what that horrible Maud Newton piece in the NYT Magazine that everyone was going crazy about a few months ago was saying? And the first part, was that basically an allusion to that horrible Franzen commencement address? Maybe I am missing something.

I do really like "To a generation of writers, the DFW style was the sound of telling the truth".

Most Played

OK, probably last one: I'm obsessed with the "Most Played" playlist on my iPod, and today I was wishing I could have a most-played list for my entire life. I'm not sure what individual songs would be on it, but it would probably have these records heavily represented. (I'm not saying these are my "favorite" records, or the "best" records, just the ones I've listened to most. But yeah, they probably are. Both.)

  1. The Beatles - Abbey Road
  2. Jesus Christ Superstar - Original Cast Recording
  3. Nirvana - In Utero
  4. Pixies - Doolittle
  5. Pavement - Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain
  6. The Spinanes - Manos
  7. Radiohead - OK Computer
  8. Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga

#s 1,3,4,5 and 7 are probably on most people-my-age's list. # 8, well, my love of Spoon is well documented. # 2 I was obsessed with for a long time, as anyone who knew me in high school or college can tell you. But #6, the Spinanes, I don't feel I have been evangelical enough about. EVERYONE GO LISTEN TO MANOS BY THE SPINANES! Here, I'll help you get started.

EDIT: Oh, shit, I forgot Bjork! Put Vespertine on there after OK Computer.

Desert island books

For some reason I'm in the mood to make lists today. A fun game to play is "Desert Island": I always find myself thinking about which books I would take if I were going to be stranded on a desert island. (Because that's the kind of thing you can plan for, right?) One of the things you have to consider, though, is what is the definition of a book? A single volume? So, then, would you include the Complete Works of Shakespeare? Or a coherent single "work"? So, then, would you include À la recherche du temps perdu? Or the Encyclopædia Britannica? For the purposes of this list, I'm going to say no to omnibus editions (seems like cheating, and it makes it more boring: then you are basically making a list of authors, not books) and encyclopedias (because, come on), but I'm going to allow multi-volume novels as a single item (e.g. numbers 3 and 4, below). Here are five:

  1. Finnegans Wake by James Joyce
  2. Shakespeare's Sonnets (ed. Stephen Booth)
  3. À la recherche du temps perdu by Marcel Proust (in English, no duh, Moncrieff trans.)
  4. The Dragonlance Chronicles by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman
  5. Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace

The first two are books that I feel like will keep me busy forever: they've been keeping me busy long enough as it is. The Wake will be hard to read without any annotations or guidebooks, but it might actually be nice to try to read it on its own (what we call "pulling a McHugh" in the business). (We don't really call it that.) Booth's annotations to the Sonnets are essential, though, and are almost as much fun to read as the poems themselves.  Proust I would take because I want something long that I haven't already read, and what I've seen of Proust makes me think I could spend some time working my way through, and wallowing in, his prose. The other two are more for nostalgia: my favorite books from childhood and college, respectively. Rereading them serves a dual function: the enjoyment of the book itself, of course, but also the feelings they bring back. So I'd like to have them around. 

I should also bring some detective novels or something, you know, for fun. Maybe some Stephen King.   

My favorite comic books

I'm not a bona fide comics aficionado (but I care enough about them to call them comic books, not "graphic novels"). I read a few things, mostly Marvel, intermittently in my pre-to-early teens, and then in my early twenties I discovered the "British Invasion" of literary comics writers from the eighties. These are my favorite things I've read in the decade since then.

  1. The Sandman, by Neil Gaiman (1989-1996): This was the series that showed me what comics could do, and it's still my favorite. It's the only comic I re-read with any regularity.
  2. Watchmen by Alan Moore (1986-1987): This is the best single volume comics story out there, I think (and I know, via Time magazine, etc, that I am certainly not alone). This is the book I would give someone who thought superhero comics were stupid. HONORABLE MENTION-- The Dark Knight Returns, by Frank Miller (1986):  I'm sort of over Frank Miller, but this book pairs really well with Watchmen, and is also just awesome.
  3. Promethea, by Alan Moore (1999-2005): My personal favorite Moore book; three times the length of Watchmen but half the length of Sandman, which feels about perfect. Not that I would wish Sandman any shorter. 
  4. Swamp Thing, by Alan Moore (1982-1987) and Animal Man, by Grant Morrison (1988-1990): These two exemplify what was so cool about DC/Vertigo in the Eighties.
  5. Animal Man, by Jeff Lemire (2011-) and Swamp Thing, by Scott Snyder (2011-): And these two exemplify what is cool about the New 52.

There are still an awful lot of things I have to read, of course. For example, Grant Morrison is a relatively recent discovery for me: I haven't read his magnum opus, The Invisibles, yet. But these are my favorites so far.

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Pavement - Fillmore Jive

Final track from “Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain” (1994)

The early nineties were one of the rare, ephemeral times when authenticity and absolute unabashed rock stardom were not mutually exclusive. So if Pavement decided to try to cater to MTV and the radio (or, as some called it at the time, to “sell out”) on their sophomore album Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, they did it in their trademark style of high irony, crafting timeless rock songs about being jaded towards the whole idea of rock-and-roll. And let’s be frank: if you could write songs like “Gold Sounds” and “Range Life,” why on earth would you want to stop yourself?  These songs, along with the BIG HIT, “Cut Your Hair,” manage to combine irresistibly catchy tunes with lyrics about how incredibly disenchanting it is to be producing these irresistibly catchy tunes every day. The whole record is terribly compelling, but you can’t help feeling rather naïve for finding it so. (Or at least I do, now: when I was fourteen and the album came out I didn’t spend much time thinking about this paradox; I just knew that this was one of the best records I had ever heard.)

I wrote this, for the end of the year theme week ("Closing Time") on OWOB. Maybe in a few months I will write something else, somewhere else.

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