Tag: art

They Live: Analysis and Review

The Portly Politico4 Comments

Last night I watched John Carpenter’s 1988 cult smash They Live, which explains (along with a couple of hours of Civilization VI) why today’s post is late.  I’ve been eager to catch this flick for awhile, and a fortuitous chain-combo of RedBox coupons and special promotions had me streaming it digitally.  What a glorious age for instant gratification.

The basic plot of the film is as follows:  out-of-work drifter Nada (played by wrestler “Rowdy” Roddy Piper; the character is named only in the film’s credits) arrives in Los Angeles looking for work.  After landing a job on a construction site (the site manager says it’s a “union job,” but Nada lands the gig after asking if the Spanish-speaking crew is in the union, too), Nada meets Frank Armitage (Carpenter veteran Keith David), a black construction worker from Detroit, trying to earn a living for his wife and children back home.  Frank takes Nada under his wing, and they head to a soup kitchen shanty town.

While at the town, Nada notices suspicious activity in a nearby church; upon further investigation, he stumbles upon a box of sunglasses that allow him to see the world for how it really is:  a black-and-white world filled with subliminal messages like “OBEY” and “MARRY AND REPRODUCE,” as well as constant messages to “BUY” and “CONSUME.”  Money reads simply “THIS IS YOUR GOD.”

More shockingly, some humans appear to be fleshless, bulging-eyed aliens, akin to zombies.  Piper figures out quickly that the horrifying creatures are not friendly, and he embarks on a shooting spree—which, of course, appears like a random shooting to everyone else.

It unfolds from there:  Nada convinces Frank—after a nearly-six-minute alleyway brawl—to try the glasses on for himself.  Seeing the world for what it is, the two join up with the small resistance, which is quickly smashed by the fleshless invaders and their human collaborators (which enjoy support from the media and law enforcement).  The film ends with the disruption of the device that keeps everyone “asleep” regarding reality, with terrifying (and humorous) consequences.

Much has been written about this film, as its not-so-subtle message of anti-commercialism is low-hanging fruit.  No less a scholar than Slovene philosopher Slavoj Žižek cites They Live as an influence on his understanding of ideology.  The film inspired street artist Shepard Fairey‘s famous “OBEY” stickers (another fascinating bit of pop culture detritus).

As such, there’s not much I can add, but I have some general reflections.  In the age of attempted Deep State coups and a political and media establishment at odds with the common man, They Live contains a certain relevance to culture in 2019 (if there really are subliminal messages in advertising, I wish there were some encouraging people to “MARRY AND REPRODUCE”; the message today is exactly the opposite).

The alien invaders manage to take control because they cut a deal with America’s elites:  give us access to your resources and cheap labor, and we’ll make you fabulously wealthy.  At a swanky dinner near the end of the film, aliens and humans toast their 39% return-on-investment.  Frank Armitage, disgusted, tells one human collaborator that he “sold out his own kind”; the collaborator says, “What’s the threat? It’s just business.”

That scene seems particularly relevant to 2016:  globalist elites were eager to serve up a deeply corrupt Hillary Clinton to continue to advance their goals of cheap labor and monochromatic global conformity.

Piper’s character, on the other hand, states his optimism early in the film:  “I believe in America.”  Even as a homeless drifter, Piper believes he can succeed if he just keeps working hard.  But he’s a man of principle—once he realizes the rigged game that’s afoot, he decides to beat them rather than join them.

Consider:  the latter option would be so much easier.  Betray your own people—humans, or, in the context of the 2016 election, Americans—for a distant, indifferent, self-aggrandizing elite, and reap the rewards.  But Piper—a loud-mouthed wrestler—fights back.  He wants a fair shake for himself and his countrymen, not a rigged system at the expense of his fellow humans.

His methods are comedic and clumsy (a hallmark of another Carpenter classic, Big Trouble in Little China), but he manages—against all odds—to make it to the top of the alien-collaborator hierarchy, ultimately bringing the whole thing down.  One can be forgiven for seeing in Nada President Trump’s historic, unlikely rise to the presidency in 2016.

That said, I shouldn’t take that metaphor too far.  Carpenter had no inkling in 1988 that Donald Trump would become president amid the crushing dominance of a politically-correct, Davos Man elite (although Trump discussed the possibility of a run at the time).  Carpenter’s message is a more heavy-handed cautionary tale about excessive consumerism and materialism.

There, however, some compelling fruits that have come from ignoring those warnings.  While globalization and capitalism have reaped huge financial rewards, they’ve come at the expense of Americans.  Frank’s line about betraying “your own kind” resonated heavily with me:  just as the human collaborators sold out their people to the aliens, our elites have sold out their countrymen and culture for cheap labor and cheap plastic crap from China.

We will always engage with art and culture in terms of our own experiences, though I would caution against excessive “current year” interpretations.  The film is a product of the 1980s.  That its message still seems so fresh is, perhaps, an indication of our culture’s stagnation since that glorious decade.

Nevertheless, They Live presents a timeless warning against sacrificing our patrimony for wealth.  Judas betrayed Christ for thirty pieces of silver; was that “just business”?

***

So, is They Live worth watching?  Absolutely.  I had a blast even before Nada discovered the glasses (which is nearly half-an-hour into the film, or so it felt—it spends a lot of time showing his struggles to find a job).  The film contains the iconic line, “I came here to chew bubblegum and kick ass—and I’ll all out of bubblegum.”

Roddy Piper acts the way wrestlers in 1980s films act, which is badly, but it’s perfect for his character, a man who is principled but driven by his id (and libido, with lethal consequences).  Keith David’s performance as Frank Armitage steals the show—he just wants to make money to support his family without any hassle, but is drawn into a fight he never wanted.

You’ll see some of the plot twists coming from a mile away, but the film is fun and thought-provoking.  I highly recommend you check it out.  Of course, I’m a big fan of John Carpenter (Big Trouble in Little China is one of my favorite movies), so your mileage may very.  For $2.99, though, it’s worth the rental.

The Impermanence of Knowledge and Culture: The Great Library and Notre Dame

The Portly Politico11 Comments

On Sunday, blogger and antiquarian Quintus Curtius posted a piece about the famed Great Library at Alexandria.  The Library is considered one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient War, and its destruction is an event that stands as one of the great cautionary tales of history.

Except, as Curtius points out, it wasn’t a single event.  Historians point to the accidental burning in 48 B.C., when Julius Caesar’s men’s burned Pompey’s fleet, and the flames spread, consuming a substantial portion of the Library’s connections.  Curtius mentions other events that may have damaged the Library, including Emperor Theodosius II’s decree to destroy pagan temples and buildings.

But, significantly, Curtius argues that it was centuries of neglect that destroyed the Great Library, rather than one single, spectacular event.  The burning of the Library in 48 B.C. makes for a dramatic story, but lack of maintenance, poor funding, and corrupt officials, Curtius contends, ultimately destroyed the Library.

To quote Curtius (emphasis is his):

The point is that libraries, like all institutions of culture, must be maintained and refurbished by every generation.  As I see it, the evidence points to a stark truth that tells us much about human nature.  The primary destroyer of the library, and perhaps of most cultural artifacts, was apathy.  How does this happen, in practice?  It is very simple.  It happens the same way official neglect happens today.  A new king or government minister would have said to himself, “I don’t think we need to allocate funds to the Alexandrian Library right now.  I have other priorities.  I would rather spend the money on ships, the army, or my new summer retreat.”  And this is how it starts.

Apathy—a general lack of care and concern for our cultural artifacts—destroys them far more effectively than book burnings.  Death by a thousand insouciant cuts, rather than the dramatic thrust of the sword, causes all things to wither away.

Having read Curtius’s piece (and a podcast related to it, which I cannot now locate), I very much had this topic on my mind when I heard about the tragic fire at the Notre Dame Cathedral on Monday.  I did not realize that the great cathedral is 850-years old.

Let that sink in:  it’s stood for nearly a millennium, surviving the Wars of Religion in France; the Thirty Years’ War; and the First and Second World Wars.  It also survived the French Revolution, which saw many churches destroyed or converted into blasphemous “Temples of Reason” throughout Paris and France.

Notre Dame is a powerful symbol of Western Civilization:  a bold testament of the faith and piety of a once-proud, Christian people.  A civilization that believes in itself and its God builds and maintains an edifice like Notre Dame.

We don’t yet know the source of the Notre Dame fire (at least, I don’t), and I’ve heard and read several explanations, from the careless (a dropped cigarette) to the, if true, quite wicked (Islamic terrorism; to reiterate, I am not claiming this was the cause of the fire, just that I’ve heard it insinuated).

What we do know is that France’s president, Emmanuel Macron, has promised to rebuild the destroyed roof and upper level of the cathedral “in a way consistent with our modern diverse nation.”  I let out a moan of despair upon reading that phrase.

Notre Dame is a not a symbol of a “modern diverse nation,” nor should it be.  The only universalism it embodies is Christ’s universal Love for all of humanity.  Beyond that, it is a symbol of the French people, and of Christendom.  I am not convinced that the “diverse” Maghreb and Bedouin tribesman of the banlieues are deserving of that patrimony.

The West is constantly bending over backwards to accommodate foreign cultures in a show of cosmopolitan hospitality, but the favor is never returned.  Unassimilated migrants and “refugees” don’t deserve architectural “representation” in a building that never would have been built were it not for Charles “The Hammer” Martel.

Knowledge and culture are both one generation away from darkness.  Westerners should understand the deep roots of our civilization, and protect it at all costs.  That means teaching it to our children, and instilling them a love of and reverence for our institutions, culture, and faith.

Right-Wing Rockers

The Portly Politico2 Comments

Charles Norman at Taki’s Magazine has a piece entitled “A Secret History of Right-Wing Rock Stars“; it’s definitely worth a read over your Friday morning breakfast.  As a musician, I often experience the common assumption that I’m automatically a Leftist.  I remember a former Fine Arts colleague expressing shock when she learned I was a conservative Republican; a music teacher in a comedic power pop band couldn’t possibly be conservative!

Another anecdote:  there’s a group of poets and far-Left activists in Columbia who host a weekly poetry open micweekly poetry open mic, for which I’ve played as the featured musician a number of times (they have a featured musician play a short set, then a featured poet, then open it up to all comers).  They’re a mix of aging Boomer hippies—the ones that never quite cleaned up and became striving yuppies in the Eighties—and radical chic SJW college kids.  Twice now, I’ve opened for a transgender “woman” who “transitioned” from being a man; pretty much all of her “poetry” consists of angry screeds against the doctor who shouldn’t have “looked between my legs, but within my heart” when he was born.

The last time I played for them was around June 2017.  I was in the midst of a songwriting dry spell, and told the host as much.  He said (to paraphrase), “how could you not be artistically motivated in this political climate, with this president?”  He was clearly energized in opposition to President Trump, and assumed I would be as well.

The point of that story is that, despite my very public expression of my political and social views in this medium and others, these folks just assumed I was one of them because I’m a flamboyant performer with funny songs.  Of course, as I wrote last Friday, I try to keep my politics out of my music to the extent possible.  Mission accomplished, I suppose.

(Incidentally, the entire time I played that gig, I was worried about the very tasteful “Trump” sticker on the back of my van.  At best, I wanted to avoid “getting into it” verbally with a strident social justice warrior; at worst, I didn’t want to come back to a slashed tire.  Was that paranoia on my part?  I know a Leftie at a GOP meeting wouldn’t have need of the same fear—but would he experience it, nonetheless, groundlessly?  These questions are the price of a progressive Left that advances its ends by any means necessary.)

But I digress.  Many musicians I know are left-of-center, even here in the rural South, and artistic types often buck up against whatever the prevailing cultural norms are.  Of course, in our age of culturally dominant progressivism, not expressing cloyingly simplistic statements like “love is love” or “hate has no home here” is itself an act of rebellion.  As Gavin McInnes says, being conservative is punk rock.

As such, Norman’s piece was eye-opening and interesting.  It really is a “secret history” of not-so-secret, but oft-forgotten, conservatism among post-war rockers.  Norman focuses on Brit rocker Morrissey of The Smiths, who I’ve always perceived of as some kind of icon for jaded Gen X-ers and “Born this Way” homosexuals.  But ol’ Morrissey has made waves lately with some controversial comments about foreigners and Muslims.

What was more shocking was David Bowie’s flirtation with fascism.  Bowie has always had a knack for reinvention, and his career was built on actual and perceived ambiguity, both in terms of musicality and sexuality.  Ziggy-era Bowie was renowned for his androgyny; a musician buddy of mine calls him “Britain’s favorite closeted heterosexual.”

Norman points out that writers, eager to shoe-horn Bowie into their own political cosmos, try to explain away Bowie’s political views as “strange”—that is, the innocent follies of a wacky artiste, not to be taken seriously.  That’s the approach taken in a lengthy Politico piece on Bowie’s politics.

So, were Bowie’s unorthodox political views the follies of artistic youth?  He backpedaled hard later in life—prudent, if you’re linked to fascism, and not unlike Democrats renouncing their former Klan membership—and probably did denounce those ideas.

Does it matter?  David Bowie wasn’t trying to get anyone killed.  He made a lot of great music that brings everyone together (that comedic power pop band I mentioned earlier, The Lovecrafts, was united musically by one shared influence:  the Thin White Duke).

Music is for everyone.  There is an odd comfort in knowing that some of the greatest rockers of the twentieth century supported immigration restrictionist MP Enoch Powell.  Otherwise, just enjoy their musical output.

Nordlinger on the Arts

The Portly Politico3 Comments

Jay Nordlinger, a guy who gets paid to write about classical music for a living (I’ll confess, I’m a bit jealous), has a piece about the role of government in the arts, and arts in society, politics, etc.  It’s in the form of a questionnaire of generic questions the ubiquitous critic often receives, along the lines of “should the government support the arts,” “should artists make political statements with their works,” etc.

Nordlinger—not only an excellent critic, but a master of the emphatic incomplete sentence—handles these questions well.  I particularly like his response to the question about politics in art.  Here is an excerpt, including the question (italicized) and Nordlinger’s response (unformatted):

You will concede that politics has a place in art, right? Many artists think it is incumbent on them to deal with the politics of their day. To make directly political art. Is there such a thing as political art? There’s art with politics in it. Most of the time, I think it’s pretty boring, because, somehow, the art takes a backseat to politics. And the politics is of a hectoring quality.

Politics is often a spoiler of art, because of that very quality: “Eat your peas.” It may well be that political art is yet another excuse for people to lecture. (Lecturing has its time and place, needless to say.) Better, I think, is to do things subtly. I like a movie that way, for example. A movie may convey a message — a great many of them do. But you don’t have to do it in a honkingly obvious way. Weave it in, you know?

I think of Shakespeare, which is cheating, because he is the greatest of all artists, but let’s do it anyway. Many of his plays are political — or rather, they have politics in them. But the art of them transcends the politics. The politics means practically nothing to us today. Same with Verdi’s operas, some of them. Un ballo in maschera is stuffed with politics — but we don’t give a damn about that, and rightly so. The music and the human drama are what counts.

Nordlinger is spot-on here.  I am very “political,” in the sense that I write about politics and rarely hide my political leanings (unless trying to enjoy myself in the midst of a gaggle of progressives—not exactly the friendliest of situations for dissenting viewpoints and wrongthink).  But I’m also a musician, and I avoid writing anything overtly political in my music.

My song “Hipster Girl Next Door“—the closest thing I have to a “hit,” as it’s frequently requested at live shows—has one oblique line that says, “And though you hope for change, I hope I’m never estranged/from my Hipster Girl Next Door.”  The song is more a humorous critique of the hipster, coffee shop culture and its trappings, not a diss track against the Obama administration.

I also started writing an over-the-top, sci-fi rock opera back in 2013, The Mystic Chords, that was to embody William F. Buckley’s admonishment “don’t immanentize the eschaton” (in other words, don’t try to create heaven on Earth).  I think that work, though, were it ever to be completed, would fall under the Shakespearean rubric of “a work of art with politics, but about the human condition.”

Otherwise, I understand that people don’t want to be bludgeoned over the head with half-baked political ideas in their music.  You might cater to a specific niche, but you’re going to alienate a big chunk of potential listeners.  And pedantic hectoring and lecturing in otherwise fun music isn’t going to win anyone over.

The best art, when it does have something to say, does so with subtle suggestion.  Subtlety is incredibly hard to pull off.  It’s like when jazz musicians says, “It’s not the notes you play, but the notes you don’t play.”  I honestly have no idea what they mean by that, but I think the same concept applies to art, especially humorous, slice-of-life, tongue-in-cheek songwriting like mine:  it’s not so much what you say, but how you say it, and how you say things without saying them.  Implication, in other words (there’s a Nordlingian incomplete sentence for you).

But I digress.  Those are my slapdash, off-the-cuff observations at the end of a hectic week.  My Internet is finally restored, so I should be back to some degree of normality.  Spring Break is approaching, too, and I can tell teachers and students need a well-earned rest.

If you’d like to support my art, please visit www.tjcookmusic.com, or pick up a copy of my EP, Contest Winner EP, at any number of online retails (see my website for direct links).  You can also pick up my digital EP, Electrock EP:  The Four Unicorns of the Apocalypse, for just $4!

TBT: Conservatives and Country Music

The Portly Politico2 Comments

This week’s #TBT is another throwback from 2009, entitled “Conservatives and Country Music.”  It’s been a music-filled week at my job, so this topic seemed apropos.

Indeed, I’ve written about the intersection of music and politics before, such as my classic post “Music is for Everyone.”  There I expressed concerns about the politicization of music, which I originally voiced in this piece from 2009.

In looking back at these decades-old posts, I’m struck by how bad my writing was, and how much liberalism seeped into my supposedly conservative ideas.  The whole discussion about Sean Hannity’s love of country music seeming disingenuous is way too long and rambling, even if it might be a correct instinct.

It’s interesting seeing, though, how Senator Ted Cruz of Texas claimed that, after 9-11, he stopped listening to classic rock—which, as much as I love the man, sounds ridiculous, and a tad pandering—and only listened to country music.

Of course, my fretting in 2009 was, sadly, prophetic—the Mandalay Bay shooter in Vegas targeted a country music festival, and one Lefty ensconced in the upper tiers of ivory tower media progressivism opined that the victims deserved it because they were “likely Trump supporters.”   I’m not sure we’ve gotten any clear explanation as to why that guy shot all of those people—somewhat suspicious in and of itself—but that callous remark spoke volumes about the extent of our cultural divide, and how indicative musical tastes have become of political leanings.

And, for all that, I (in?)famously expressed excitement about Kid Rock’s senatorial ambitions… which turned out to be an elaborate publicity stunt.  Yeesh!

Well, what can you do.  Enjoy this lengthy discourse from a younger, fatter version of myself:

I am an avid fan of talk radio. Therefore, I am a fan of conservative talk radio. When one speaks of talk radio, it’s pretty much understood that one is speaking of conservative talk show hosts like Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, Neal Boortz, etc. Despite their best efforts, liberals have never been able to establish much of a foothold on the radio, although Alan Colmes does have a show that airs pretty late at night on 560 AM in Columbia. Air America, the one serious attempt at a talk radio network with a stable of liberal hosts, has filed for bankruptcy at least once, if not more, and I have honestly never heard an original Air America broadcast.
Of course, I could go off on a whole discussion of the ridiculous Fairness Doctrine and the recent attempts to get it reinstated (for the unfamiliar, the Fairness Doctrine, which the FCC abolished in 1987, stated that those holding broadcast licenses were required to give contrasting views of controversial issues), but I won’t. It’s painfully obvious that liberals want the Fairness Doctrine back because they aren’t being heard anymore because, for whatever reason, most listeners don’t want to hear what they have to say. In fact, since the Fairness Doctrine was abolished the spirit of the doctrine–to engender open debate–has been fulfilled in a way it never was while the doctrine was in effect. Whether we want to admit it or not, the mainstream news media is basically left-leaning and pro-Obama, and talk radio is basically right-leaning and pro-limited government. The left-leaning news media reports on events with its bias built-in, and right-leaning talk radio hosts ferret out the liberal bullcrap.
I’m not interested in any of this debate, however, at least not for this discussion. Suffice it to say, I know talk radio, and there’s something that has struck me as rather odd: conservative hosts love country music. They absolutely adore it, and I don’t know why.
Well, that’s a lie. I have some theories and, naturally, I’m going to offer them up for your consumption. But first let’s take a look at some talk radio hosts. Sean Hannity is probably the most obvious example. While taking a class in Columbia this past semester, I listened to Sean on 970 AM in Florence on my weekly drive down, and at the top of every hour his show would lead in with Martina McBride’s “Independence Day,” a soaring, super-patriotic ode to the American way of life. Okay, one song, no big deal. Then, about a week ago, Sean started promoting a series of pro-American, pro-limited government concerts that he has helped to organize, featuring, among others, Billy Ray Cyrus and Charlie Daniels. Add to that the occasional visit by a country music artist, and The Sean Hannity Show is a veritable hee-haw of country music royalty.
One show doesn’t say much, though. Maybe Sean Hannity, a New Yorker, just loves country music. I’ll even admit that I’m biased in thinking that Northerners aren’t country music lovers, and that Sean has proven me wrong.
Then something happened that made me rethink this whole issue. This week the students at the school where I teach are taking their final exams, and so teachers are permitted to leave school early if they have nothing to do. I finished up my various tasks and hit the road around 11 this morning, and so I tuned in to 970 AM as always. At this time Laura Ingraham broadcasts her show, which I had never heard before because I’m usually knee-deep in lesson plans at 11 in the morning. So I’m listening to Laura when, all of a sudden, she starts talking about how much she loves country music. Can’t get enough of it.
Sean Hannity was a hardworking construction worker in a former life. I can completely buy Hannity standing over his sledgehammer, wiping the sweat from off his brow, and listening to Garth Brooks. But Laura Ingraham? Besides the fact that she’s a woman–and chicks love country music, for whatever reason–it makes no sense. The name “Ingraham” is probably the least countrified name in the world.
Now, I’ll admit that I don’t know much about Laura Ingraham and that I’m probably being a little sexist when I write things like “chicks love country music,” but there is an undeniable trend on the right toward country music. In fact, there’s a corresponding trend on the left toward rock music. How else can you explain this sudden glut of conservatives espousing their love of country music? At the same time, observe all of the activist, left-wing rockers out there: U2, The Clash, Neil Young, Elvis Costello, etc.
This is not an original revelation. South Park did an entire episode on pro-war country music lovers and anti-war rock ‘n’ roll protesters. I mention it because I find it all a bit disturbing–and, in a way, potentially dangerous. First of all, I really don’t like country music. There are always the obvious exceptions, and I should probably qualify that by saying that I don’t like new country music, but generally speaking I can’t stand it (the odd thing is, most of it is just classic rock with banjos and twangy vocals).
Secondly, why should conservatives give up rock music? Chuck Klosterman, author of Fargo Rock City: A Heavy Metal Odyssey of Rural North Dakota,argues that glam metal in the 1980s “latently adopted the Republican persona of the 1980s,” which was “an incredibly popular way of thinking, especially (and surprisingly) among young males” who made up the bulk of heavy metal’s listeners. Heavy metal in its biggest, glammiest, most capitalistic form has fallen by the wayside, but for its time it was a musical movement that, according to Klosterman, was completely in-tune with the prevailing conservative sentiments of the Reagan era. Sure, heavy metal was an exaggeration of the already-exaggerated excesses of the 1980s, but it was the popular music of the time and reflected the mood of the nation and the political establishment, something that is pretty rare as far as pop music goes. Just look at the pop music of the 1960s and 1970s, which cast itself in a light that was decidedly anti-establishment.
So, why is this dangerous? Because I get the impression that most conservative talk show hosts are being a tad disingenuous when they talk about their love of country music. They’re playing to their audience–or so they think–which they assume is made up largely of pro-war, pro-limited government, anti-Obama listeners, which is true. However, they’re making the assumption that most of those listeners love country music because those are the things they believe, and I don’t think that’s the case. I believe in all of those things and I much prefer rock–even crappy modern rock–to country music.
The danger also comes in the increasing fragmentation of American political life geographically and culturally. I think it’s safe to assume that most fans of country music are, well, those who live in the country (although every good ol’ boy I’ve ever known has been a fan of country and rap simultaneously). But when country music becomes synonymous with one political ideology and rock music with the other, it serves to intensify political fragmentation. Suddenly, McBride’s “Independence Day” becomes a post-9/11 rallying cry for anti-Obama revolutionaries instead of a genuine appreciation for the United States and its freedoms.
Instead of looking at genres of music as inherently politicized, we should be using music as a way to bridge the ever-widening gap between different ideologies. I love my talk show hosts, but if I’m right, I have to fault them on their constant peddling of country as some kind of conservative alternative to mainstream music. At the same time, liberals deserve much more of my ire, as they’ve effectively hijacked rock music and have been using music politically for much, much longer than conservative radio personalities. Woodstock, anyone?

E.T.A. Hoffman & Romanticism

The Portly Politico5 Comments

As a Roger Kimball fanboy, I appreciate the cultural commentary at The New Criterion, his publication dedicated to covering high culture.  Kimball proves that you can appreciate, understand, and analyze the best of Western civilization’s cultural output while still supporting Donald Trump.  If these “artistic” types on the Progressive Left were truly tolerant, they’d read The New Criterion.  Yes, Executive Editor James Panero sounds like someone you’d want to give a wedgie, but he’s a bonafide cultural conservative (side note:  check out that link to his lecture on Russell Kirk’s ghost stories).

Regardless, Hannah Niemeier wrote a charming piece about E.T.A. Hoffman, “The man who made Romanticism“; it is well worth the read.  Hoffman is a somewhat forgotten figure whose literary works inspired (and were inspired by) some of the great composers of the classical and Romantic periods.  For example, Hoffman wrote the short story that served as the source for Tchaikovsky’s beloved The Nutcracker.

His life eerily mirrors one of his most famous devotees, Robert Schumann:

Both were reluctant lawyers, right-brained men in a left-brain profession, with personalities subject to extreme moods that bordered on mental illness. Schumann’s music famously spans the creative continuum between mild and wild, and in his compositional method, he was like Hoffmann’s Kreisler: “sometimes mad, sometimes lucid.” He wrote the eight-movement Kreisleriana, a representative work of Romantic-period piano music, in four days in 1838.

Yet both men were aware of the dangers of artistic passion. Schumann was a genius, but an unstable one. He often went into creative depressions in which he could hardly function, let alone make music. Haunted by the idea that creativity and madness came from the same place, he said his greatest fear, which increased along with his musical mastery, was of losing his mind. But it was a fate he couldn’t escape; in 1856, at the age of forty-six, he died of syphilis. In a coincidence that seems to belong in one of his “uncanny stories,” Hoffmann had died at the same age, and of the same disease (though more than three decades earlier).

That moody artistic temperament is distinctly Romantic.  It no-doubt influenced some of the cultural instability of the 1960s counterculture, with its emphasis on the individual as his own god, ironically a slave to his inner emotional turmoil.  But it also served as a powerful counterbalance to the cold, mechanistic progress of the Enlightenment, reminding us that we have deep connections to God, to the land, and to each other.

Like the Romantic period his work inspired, Hoffman was a man of contradictions and tensions; a fascinating, brilliant individual.

Reblog: The Normalization Of Ugliness Inevitably Becomes The Denigration Of Beauty

The Portly Politico3 Comments

A piece demonstrating the virtue-signalling of our techno-elites, c/o Chateau Heartiste:  https://heartiste.wordpress.com/2019/01/02/the-normalization-of-ugliness-inevitably-becomes-the-denigration-of-beauty/

In short, Facebook rejected an ad because it either idealized a healthy body type, and/or portrayed flabby abs and belly fat in a negative light.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, to be sure, but there are certainly qualities broadly accepted and recognized as beautiful—so much so that we could reasonably assume these qualities to be universal. The “body positivity” movement, like most such Leftist sacred cows, has a sympathetic appeal at its heart, but is otherwise a potentially lethal lie.

The appeal is simple, and good: we shouldn’t be needlessly mean to people based on their appearance. The lie, however, takes that appeal to good-natured sympathy and twists it into a forced acceptance—indeed, a celebration—of habits and lifestyles that are inherently unhealthy (and, dare I write it, ugly).

As a Formerly Fat American (FFA), I’m not unsympathetic to the difficulty of losing and keeping off weight. I understand that, for some Americans, glandular issues, or weight-gain stemming from other conditions, make losing weight harder than normal.
But these are the exceptions, not the rule. Healthy habits are difficult to maintain, and require self-discipline—a quality once considered virtuous. Now, rather than urge people to stop overeating or to go for a walk, we applaud them for their poor health, or try to make excuses.  I can also safely assert that I was fat for so many years because I lacked the discipline and willpower not to be—it was my own fault!

Beyond physical beauty, I fear this “normalization of ugliness” is prevalent in the arts, notably the visual arts, but also in music, dance, poetry, etc. Any sense of objective standards, of an understanding of and appreciating the great masters that came before, is abandoned for politically-correct drivel. “Art,” in the truest sense of that word, should not be willfully, knowingly ugly. We may produce bad art in the pursuit of learning our crafts, but we shouldn’t set out to create more ugliness (and, by extension, chaos) in the world.

These are some off-the-cuff reflections. Again, my goal is not to get some clicks at the expense of chubby Americans. Rather, we should be willing to recognize that obesity, like many social maladies, should be treated seriously, and should be gently but firmly discouraged, rather than celebrated as a “lifestyle choice.”