Category Archives: Aesthetics

UPDATED: Sweet Sounds Of “Seven” Vs. Primal Screams Of Sanchez

Aesthetics, Art, libertarianism, Music, Pop-Culture, The Zeitgeist

The cultural gulf that separated the 2012 Republican National Convention from the Democratic equivalent, now underway, is glaring.

The disparate artistic sensibility is expressed in the rendition of the national anthem, the words to which were written, as few Americans probably know, in the aftermath of the Battle against the British, at Fort McHenry. “The Defence of Fort McHenry” ended in American victory on September 14, 1814.

The opera group “Seven” sang the National Anthem during the Republican National Convention in Tampa, Fla., Aug. 30, 2012.

Appreciation of musicianship being what it is, these days, I could not locate online a rendition by “Seven” sans the ceremonial clap trap. So, to listen to their glorious sound, please fast froward 2:00 minutes into the proceedings:

Contrast Seven’s harmonization and controlled use of the human voice (only 778 YouTube views, so far) with the popular, brutal-sounding primal screams of one Jessica Sanchez, who is scheduled to ululate at the Democratic National Convention, tonight.

So discordant and jarring are the Sanchez yelps. How has such crass screaming come to be considered musical?

UPDATE: From Facebook thread. This post was meant as cultural critique. Tough concept, I know, as some insist on reducing all commentary on things cultural to the libertarian law. So sooner does this paleo-libertarian address the matter of cultural standards—in this case, what goes for singing these days—and another will step in Soviet style and command her to stick to her mandate: whittling it all down to the non-aggression axiom. Don’t you find that boring? A tad lazy?

The same transpired when I commented on the “Bump ‘N Grind Britannia” of the Olympics. Such cultural commentary was, apparently, verboten, because the Olympics were a display of statism. illogical. Lazy. Bad reasoning, as the one does not flow from the other.

Over the years, I’ve commented a great deal on cultural standards, or lack thereof. If you can’t address the topic, don’t prevent me from so doing; don’t limit the discussion.

UPDATED: Bump-N’-Grind Britannia

Aesthetics, Art, Britain, Music, Pop-Culture, Sport

Those of us who’re familiar with Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here,” in the original, were galled, if not surprised, by the distortions a warbler called Ed Sheeran introduced to the number, during the closing ceremony of the London 2012 Olympics. (The Idiocracy was charmed, naturally.)

How do you suck the essence out of a piece of music?

Easily, if to judge by the vulgar performances that followed, most of them punctuated by the primal screams of one Jessie J, who also destroyed “We Will Rock You” (admittedly one of Queen’s worst numbers), and drowned out Brian May. Thankfully, Jessie J did not tamper with “We Are the Champions.”

A complex chord progression is the hallmark of many a Queen’s song. Today’s T & A lineup (Brit and Yankee alike) can belt out loud guttural screams. But you need a finely tuned instrument and musicality to sing well.

(An example of such an instrument is Carly Simon’s voice in this live performance of “That’s The Way I Always Heard It Should Be – 1972.” Hers is an evocative and nuanced voice. As to lyrics; you have to be a literate and complex individual to write as evocatively.)

Jessie J, aka The Crotch, does a poor man’s version of the Beyonce God-awful bump and grind.

There was a choir of kids (they get to them young) who mimed and gesticulated to the hackneyed sounds of “Imagine.” Their affectatious performance was reminiscent of the performance “art” of the 1960s and 1970s. So passe.

There was nothing “Winston Churchill” about the bloke that recited Shakespeare. It shows you how far removed Brits are from their own history. For a better Churchill I recommend the … historians of … Iron Maiden.

Yes, where were Iron Maiden, or real virtuosos like Ian Anderson (also a bit of a history buff, in as much as he knew a thing or two about … Jethro Tull).

The above Brit superstars were overwhelmingly … male. A man who can wield an axe would intimidate a chorus-line of prancing nuns and “men” stomping about with garbage cans.

The closing ceremony of the London 2012 Olympics would have been far improved had the hip organizers left Freddie Mercury up on the screen and played “Queen.” Come to think of it, Michael Jackson’s “Thriller,” replayed over and over again would have been preferable to the camp celebration of kitsch that unfolded.

UPDATE (Aug. 14): In reply to a Facebook reader: You said what I did not. The Chinese did do a better job of the Olympic ceremonies. Theirs were artful, if rigid, displays of skill, and, while the Chinese ceremonies had a cultural flavor—they were without political overtones.

Sally Pearson’s Gold

Aesthetics, Human Accomplishment, Media, Sport

One of the memorable races of the 2012 Olympics was run by Sally Pearson of Australia. Yet I challenge you to find a live YouTube clip of the Pearson race. Sally Pearson won Olympic gold for the 100m hurdles race.

Pearson was “No. 1 in an Olympic-record 12.35 seconds, narrowly in front of three Americans: 2008 gold medalist Harper; Kellie Wells, who had beaten the Australian in the last race coming into London; and Lolo Jones, who missed out on an Olympic medal again.”

Jones had been getting the full attention of the American media despite not having won a medal. Her beauty would explain that attention (she is certainly better looking than Jessica Ennis, who is a greater champion than she is a beauty).

More tomorrow—do I have to?—about the closing ceremony. It was pretty repulsive.

UPDATED: Spoiled Sports, Tramp Stamps & Spectacular Speed

Aesthetics, America, Etiquette, Human Accomplishment, South-Africa, Sport

I spoke too soon about American sportsmanship.

McKayla Maroney didn’t look lost, as the Atlanta Journal described the sullen American gymnast. Rather, she looked sour, after botching her dismount “during the artistic gymnastics women’s vault final at the 2012 Summer Olympics on Sunday.” Romanian Sandra Izbasa, whose solid, but less dazzling, performance earned her the gold medal, approached Maroney and put her arms around her. The American stiffened, and looked daggers at Izbasa. The onus was on Maroney to congratulate the winner. Later on, when the time came to respond publicly, Maroney, predictably, suctioned herself to the camera and mouthed the right platitudes. “Supreme finesse” is how Salon’s correspondent characterized Maroney’s belated, phony show of manners.

But then Salon writers frequently create their own reality.

By contrast, Sanya Richards-Ross set the gold standard not only for speed in the women’s 400 meters, on Sunday, but in her gracious demeanor. Richards-Ross is flamboyant but fabulous, reminiscent of Flo Jo.

For a spontaneous, un-choreographed show of sportsmanship, look to Grenada’s Kirani James, not to McKayla Maroney. James, who took gold in the the men’s 400m final, run a qualifying race against “Blade Runner” Oscar Pistorius of South Africa, made his way to Pistorius, hugged the plucky double amputee and exchanged bibs with him.

As for the white leotard that practically dug-into and displayed the contours of Maroney’s crotch: Why?! The other girls wore dark colors that concealed their privates. Cringe-making too are the hugs and rubs the scantily clad gymnasts get from their male coaches. I’m not a complete prude, but that’s plain inappropriate and disgusting.

For ho couture, nothing beat the beach bims of volleyball. Misty May-Treanor, who is as rough as a man, displays a tart tat on her lower back. Real cheap. Here and here are images of the tramp stamps in progress.

Did you too predict the three medalist in the men’s 100-meter dash? It was a no- brainer: Usain Bolt and Yohan Blake of Jamaica, and our Justin Gatlin, spectacular sprinters all.

UPDATE, VIA FACEBOOK: AMM: Why, thanks. The only thing I know is track and field. I used to sprint as a youth, but, in those days, in Israel, it was hard to come by the funds to … buy spikes (the running shoes worn back when…). After racing bare-feet and breaking a toe, I sort of gave up on competing. Ah, regrets. I should have stuck it out. I still run 12 miles a week, but oh-so-slowly. If you have a teen girl; get her into running. You’ll have fewer ho problems (for which, face it, girls are notorious).