E. Amato's Blog: Zestyverse, page 9

Groove Theories: Open Mike Eagle / Dark Comedy

Open Mike EagleDark ComedyMello Music Group
by Sean Morris

“I heard Kendrick Lamar’s Batman and Miley Cyrus likes 

to treat a microphone stand as if it’s a large black man.”

This pitch-perfect couplet from Hellfyre Club’s “Elephant in the Pressroom” sets off Open Mike Eagle’s scathing monotone, delivering one of the best rap verses of 2013. But it’s another track from Hellfyre’s Dorner vs. Tookiealbum, “Qualifiers,” that serves as a proper introduction to Mike Eagle’s incisive wit and stunning delivery. The beat consists of little more than four guitar licks over smooth boom and rattle, Eagle’s melodic flow doing the heavy lifting. Sing-rhyming “GoldenEye” with “Kobe Tai” is just one of this humble-brag anthem’s many delights. 
The fact that Dorner vs. Tookie and Dark Comedy, Eagle’s latest solo release, can count the same song as one of its highlights is both help and hindrance. “Dark Comedy Morning Show” sets the overall tone, doleful strumming and industrial atmospherics gradually close in on solemn proclamations like “I swear we’re living John Lennon songs.” It’s emo-hop’s answer to Electro-Shock Blues’ “life is funny, but not ha ha funny” line. But there are plenty of traditional guffaw-inducing punchlines to discover on Dark Comedy:
“they make the flyest orthoticsand make decent movies out of Alan Moore comics”
“never march through Korea Town in a Madea gown”
“when I pass gas it sounds like a fax machine”
Deftly heckling everything from spoken word to Honda Civics, the lyrics are worth pouring over like a good book you can’t stop quoting. Pop culture references are gleefully obscure and random (Michel’le, Jonathan Lipnicki). Comedian Hannibal Buress hurls insults on “Doug Stamper,” and erudite loon MC Paul Barman materializes out of nowhere at the end of “Thirsty Ego Raps.” Though a feature from Hellfyre’s Busdriver or Nocandowould have been welcome, Eagle’s mindful voice is consistently captivating.
There are almost as many producers on Dark Comedy as there are songs, and though cohesive, the monochromatic beat progression detracts a bit from the experience. Most of the production places too much focus on the first word of the album title and not enough on the second. G-funk throwback “Golden Age Raps” and buzzing, insistent “Doug Stamper” are the only offerings that would elicit wry grins if separated from the clever MCing. The ambient turn on “Very Much Money” is a wonderful fit for Eagle’s lamentations, but this pensive template is repeated one too many times by album’s end.
“A History of Modern Dance” features a chilling screech and clatter straight out of Cannibal Ox’s Cold Vein, providing a much-needed jolt to the proceedings. But even when the album’s sound lapses back into Adult Swim bump leftovers, we get verbal gems like “the ego is the dirtiest of private parts.”  That “we’re the tightest kinda” hook on “Qualifiers” accidentally becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Studying Open Mike Eagle’s words are more of a joy when their accompaniment doesn’t feel like a chore. Between Dark Comedy, Nocando’s grimy Jimmy the Burnout, and Busdriver’s upcoming Perfect Hair, Los Angeles' Hellfyre Club’s “turn your brain on” ethos is significantly brightening hip hop’s future.
Listen/purchase Dark Comedy on:
Bandcamp
iTunes
Amazon
Zestyverse's resident Music Geek Sean Morris is an SF Bay Area native with a photographic memory and encyclopedic knowledge of popular culture. He is a graduate of UCLA's School of Theater, Film, and Television, a former Los Angeles Slam Team member, part of the collective Art 4 A Democratic Society, and a music blogger for The Owl Mag. Find him on Twitter, SoundCloud, and YouTube.

Quote of the Week - Lewis

"No matter how hard I try
to be just one of the guys
There's a little something inside
that won't let me!
No matter how hard I try
to have an open mind
There's a little voice inside
that prevents me!"

~ Jenny Lewis

I've been loving on this cut a while now, and resisting posting quotes from it, but the video just put it over the tipping point.



Everybody needs a rainbow suit. Especially on Mondays!

Basically, I just want to say YES to everything she says in this song. This is how it feels to be a girl.

Thanks, Jenny Lewis!


Just One of the Guys Jenny Lewis
All our friends, they're gettin' on,
But the girls are still staying young
If I get caught being rude in a conversation
With the child bride on her summer vacation

No matter how hard I try to be just one of the guys
There's a little something inside that won't let me!
No matter how hard I try to have an open mind
There's a little voice inside that prevents me!

Ooh, how I live it got me here
Locked in this bathroom FULL OF TEARS
And I have begged for you & I have borrowed,
but I've been the only sister to MY OWN SORROW!
No matter how hard I try to be just one of the guys
There's a little something inside that won't let me!
No matter how hard I try to have an open mind
There's a little clock inside that keeps tickin' !
There's only one difference between you & me:
When I look at myself all I can see,
I'm just another lady without a BABY
No matter how hard I try to be just one of the guys
There's a little something inside that won't let me!
No matter how hard I try to have an open mind
There's a little cop inside that prevents me!
I'm not gonna break for you!
I'm not gonna pray for you!
I'm not gonna pay for you!
That's not what ladies do!
Oh when you break
When you break
Oh when you break
Oh when you break

This Week's Quote - Silence

Something beyond words is called for. Something underneath them. 
The way my favourite five year-old sings the subtext of her mind when she knows it's not okay to say these things out loud. She sings them to herself in her quiet voice, so that maybe someone will hear what she wants or fears.
I have zero interest in any definition of football. I've tried. The World Cup frenzy bypasses me.
Yesterday's fever-pitch only made me want to sing in my quiet voice:
What about the Real-World Cup?
What about Israel v. Palestine?
Syria v. Syria?
What about the results of the group with Egypt, Tunisia, Afghanistan, Our Girls, Iraq?
The world is full. All the time. With everything. It is very much about where you place focus. No one should be denied the opportunities that exist to focus on joy, or laughter. 
But the contrast between  faux-gladiator battle that is the World Cup and the battles going on in the real world was too glaring to dismiss. There is something blessedly simple in a sports match-up we can never achieve in actual situations of conflict. That is probably part of their appeal: resolution by rules.
Where are the rules for these conflicts, the maps for our new ways of living, the street signs for compassionate activism?
It's all a bit daunting.

All I've got, for all of this, is meditation, silence, a mantra.

May we all carry peace in our hearts

#np Lambchop - Flick - Is a Woman

Quote of the Week - Christie

"Don't delay deliciousness." 

~ Celeste Christie

It was dinner and there was okra and papadoms and all kinds of good things, and Celeste said that and I  knew it had to be this week's quote.

This is wise counsel, from a rad cool and extremely crafty person - like Etsy crafty, not like sly. A4DS, an organization co-founded by Celeste, has been featured on the Zestyverse for its pracitivist work.

As you start your week, remember not to delay deliciousness!

Speaking of deliciousness, Zesty has a new Music Editor! Sean Morris will be posting recommendations every month - check out the contributor's page to learn more about him. If you have a new album or EP you'd like us to check out, please drop an email to us.

We also have a new series -- Dear Able People and our first guest post by new contributor Jerry Garcia!

It's summer, but we are keeping it Zesty!

Dear Able People: Wearing the Inside Out by Jerry Garcia

Dear Able People:
Wearing the Inside Out
by Jerry Garcia


The alarm was all afire with notification. No time to stretch and lounge in bed. No time to observe morning’s light passage through blinds or to hear the call of frisky birds. There was just enough time to limp into the kitchen and start the coffee before turning on water for a prolonged hot shower. All the while, nerves flared like hot prongs in an alloy plant. Too many days of waking this way made me weary.

Avascular necrosis of the hip plagued me, destroying mood and motion. A degeneration of the joint, hardly understood, caused the friction of bone grinding on bone. At night, whisky and pot hardly masked the pain, though they did induce a nice oblivion, alone, stoned in front of the television set, I could take my rest. Nor were the NSAIDs effective at that progression of the condition; Advil, Naprosyn, Aspirin were lackluster performers. Cocaine worked best, but that eventually enslaved me into a hapless, moneyless man with bad teeth. So the long hot shower soothed me and prepared me for the day of physical and social encumbrances.

After the shower I managed to dress appropriately for the day and drive myself to work. How to dress became overbearing. I feared not to wear coat and tie, because that was what my family thought proper work attire to be. The pressure remained to be traditional, but that was a conformity which was on the other shoe. Formal dress was not the fashion of my industry, unless I aspired to be a deal-maker. I did not. I considered myself a craftsman though I didn’t use hammer and saw. As a film editor I brought images together, matching and contrasting, pacing and defining significance.

There was a “hip” factor to contend with; the irony should be clear that while my disease centered in my arthritic joints, my mind also strove for that elusive social distinction to rise above the pack. Limping and contorting were not the distinction that qualified me. I would listen to music and wear clothes from the latest fashion rack to join the current crowd of coolness, but felt that was all negated with my limp and awkward stance. It was just as well that I chose not to deal with the tie and the clasp, lapels and creased slacks, because it was difficult not to be self-conscious while walking around the editing room with a wide-gate limp. Fortunately, perhaps, I had earned a reputation for my work ethic, and acquired valuable skill-sets prior to my hips starting to degrade.

I had a respectable job working with elite advertisers and filmmakers. I worked in a fast world where people tripped over one another to score for their team. Being sidelined by the rush of a purposeful coworker or laughed at in the grimace of my reaction was one and the same. Every man would make his own observations, whether or not he followed the groupthink of the day. People stared, some asked, some confided. I did not wish to make anyone live my pain, but the manner in which someone reacted was as important to me as how he talked. And there lay the conundrum: was I belittled or just not as good?

My bone disease had started during my apprentice years, when I was eager to learn the trade. Coming on as a weakness and a dull throb, often after bicycle riding or hiking, it later developed into throbbing and sharpness in both hips. But I never lost a day of work due to the pain; I managed to power through. It could be quite debilitating for some, but for me it was important that I stayed on the path to success. Film projects were hurried with strict deadlines, it was not possible to take time off, as long as I could hobble through the day. Succumbing to the pain would completely destroy the future to which I aspired. The fear of being replaced or forgotten loomed.

I don’t think that makes me better than those who deal with their pain differently. But it makes me an example of a person who is dedicated to career over his own body. Perhaps that is not fair to myself. It also makes me a mess to live with. Depending on which pain treatment I use when I get home, moods swing and reactions flare. That makes it unfair to others.

So I learned to carry film cans three at a time because I was no longer capable of hoisting 60 pounds across a room. As I labored at the craft I love, I listened to others complain about the wheelchair-bound beggar on the street and lovingly joke about a colleague who hobbles on crutches because he broke his leg skiing. I understand that there is a difference as I watch and listen as the disabled are displaced and ignored. I frown at the pain and moreso the evidence of ableism and wonder what has been said behind my back.



Jerry Garcia  is a poet, photographer and filmmaker from Los Angeles, California who earns his living as a producer of television commercials and motion picture previews. Jerry has been a co-director of the Valley Contemporary Poets and served as a member of Beyond Baroque’s Board of Trustees. His poetry and photography have been seen in poetic diversity, Chaparral, The Chiron Review, Askew, Palabra Magazine, The November 3rd Club Rick Lupert’s The Night Goes On All Night, KCET’s Departures: Poetry L.A. Style and his chapbook Hitchhiking with the Guilty.



Editor's Note: This is the first guest post in a series on disability, ableism, creativity and functionality. If you would like to share your thoughts, please comment below. If you would like to be a guest blogger, please feel free to get in touch. We welcome anonymous guest posts on this subject, as we are aware of the pressures of discussing these subjects in a public forum.

Facebook-Free (A Bit of a Rant)

I love twitter.

I can check in or not.

I can follow the  news organizations I feel are on point, and not the others.

I can follow arts, writing and publishing organizations that are important to me.

I can see what my friends are up to - or I don't need to check in at all.

I can post quick updates about my work, or what's on this blog, or events.



I hate Facebook.



I have over 1500 friends on an account, but I repeatedly see the same 50 or so people over and over. These are not the people I have designated as "close friends." These seem to be the people FB wants to show me.

Repeatedly, I have asked not to see posts from certain people. Despite blocking their posts, they show up again and again, forcing me to reblock them, but in the meantime seeing the insensitive rants they choose to make public over and over.

On FB, each of your 1500+ friends treats your account as they would you; as if it were you. This means that your close friends from high school feel free to share information on your wall that you would never in a million years want friend 1462, who you met after a gig one night, or friend 279, an independent producer you sometimes work for, to know. In other words, you are giving everyone you know, as well as people in your network, access to all the sides of you, as a matter of public record.

Yes, you could spend three days adjusting your settings, privacy, making lists, etc. And then, when FB changes the interface, as it does frequently, you'd have to do it all again. Also, as aforementioned, none of these filters seem to work consistently. The design itself becomes more and more cluttered and cumbersome.

It feels like a tyrannosaurus rex to twitter's firefly.


Three months ago, I deactivated my wall and stopped logging into FB. The procedures for deactivating an account are lengthy and involved. The procedures for taking down the information are also lengthy and involved. Instead, I opted for dormancy.

I had come off an artists' residency where we had no internet. Returning to civilization, I found the levels of information and the scope of reactions necessary to process the information toxic. I decided to do something about it. Some people panicked, sending me messages like, "Oh my God - your wall isn't working!" In truth, my friends and colleagues know how to reach me always. And it's not exactly like I don't have a web presence for anyone else.

As an artist and promoter, I've created a network via Facebook that I no longer have reasonable access to as a result of the constant shifts in the interface and the choices they are making in order to monetize the site.  It fragments its users with algorithms, deciding who I want to see and who gets to see me. Sure, this works okay with Netflix recommendations, but it's a fail when it comes to people to people interaction.

Events and invites are now useless and go unseen. FB prefers we now pay to promote these, yet who wants to pay to promote events to the chronically overloaded feeds of their networks?

I don't use any apps, like Uber or Lyft, that require me to link to my Facebook account in order to be real. I am real - it's FB that's not real.

You do realize what is happening when you link app to app, right?

All of your data, by your permission, is synced in a way that allows companies to market at you better. If you think the Facebook experiment was manipulative, think about how your daily interaction with this site is manipulating you even without the heinous breach of conduct.

Since it began, FB has been using its members as Beta testers, data mines, and consumer experiments. It is constantly testing our adaptability, changing the interface in tiny ways without notice. Perhaps the line has never been clear for them. Yet it should be clear for us. They not only manipulated what we were able to see, it seems they actually edited content within individual posts for effect.

I can't help thinking about a hypothetical grad student, defending a thesis on a certain day in 2012, logging onto FB briefly and seeing a feed designed to get an emotional response from him or her - an inorganic feed of his or her friend list manipulated by FB. What if FB was testing for anger in that feed? Or self esteem? What if that grad student walked into his or her thesis defense with a lowered level of confidence as a result of the manipulations? It's possible. As are so many other scenarios.

The news that they treated users as lab subjects is not surprising, yet I think our expectation that they would manipulate us is creating a regrettable under-reaction.

I say enough.

Facebook is nothing without us.

It's not worth anything at all without its users.

It was fun while it lasted, but you know, I think it's time to break up.

Dear Able People: A New Series

Zestyverse is launching a new series!
Zesty has reached out to artists of all kinds with physical or mental health conditions and asked them to share their experiences, thoughts, fears or processes.
Despite the obvious and varied issues in exposing such personal stories, the response has been overwhelmingly positive and we are looking forward to posting the pieces as they come in.
I’m a big fan of The Four Agreements . In brief, they are:
1. Be Impeccable With Your Word.
2. Don’t Take Anything Personally.
3. Don’t Make Assumptions.
4. Always Do Your Best.
For less than able people, challenge is everywhere.
Keep your word? Well, if possible, but who knows how tomorrow will be, and if I’ll be able to do what I said I’d be able to do.
Don’t take anything personally? Kind of hard when you’re getting side-eye for being 'able on the outside.'
Don’t make assumptions? That’s easy, except why does it seem to be so hard for everyone else?
And finally:
Always do your best.
Well, that’s an interesting one. What is your ‘best’ when best is different everyday and sometimes close to what would have been your worst once upon a time?
Chronic pain, debilitating pain, lack of mobility, excessive fatigue, mental stress and disorders all call into question the one thing we like to take for granted: our identity as human beings. Receiving judgment of outsiders on top of the constantly working inner analysis that rates us low on a scale of effective, productive human beings can have terrible consequences.
No one can live in anyone else’s body or mind – at least, not yet. With the help of varied contributors, we hope that Dear Able Peoplewill shine a light on issues that are clouded in shame, the labyrinth of the health care system, legal issues, and downright exhaustion. It’s hard to be activist when you can’t get out of bed.

If you are a creative with a long-term or chronic physical or mental health issue and are interested in contributing to this series, please feel free to get in touch.

Quote of the Week - Martel

"It is true that those we meet can change us, sometimes so profoundly that we are not the same afterwards, even unto our names."

~ Yann Martel

Happy Monday! It's strawberry season! I found those in Edinburgh last June...yum!

As always, feel free to take these Monday quotes as writing prompts!

Poem: Traveling the 405

Traveling the 405

There is this little bit of a risein the 405 as you go northjust before LAX
when the traffic is rightas in moving instead of stopped stillthe cars seem to space themselves out perfectlyalign in their lanesand move in syncso as to appear to not be moving at allif you, too, are traveling with them.
these lanes of straight evenrectangles in the glimmering sunsuddenly like so many rowsof tombstones over at the V.A.in Westwood. The white chicletsin row after perfect rowof deadlike a parking lotfor empty rectangleswhite above groundbrown belowempty boxeswaiting to be filled againagain to movethe inhabitants probably just shoppingat the Targetfor cleaning suppliesnew underwearor Brita filters at the best pricesoon they will return to their vehiclesput a key in the ignitionand start them upagain getting on that roadof long straight rowsof everybody in linemoving slightly uphillno end to the ribbon of rectanglesanywhere in sight.
c. 2014e. amato

Quote of the Week - Hunter

"Inspiration, move me brightly
Light the song with sense and colour
Hold away despair
More than this I will not ask
Faced with mysteries dark and vast
Statements just seem vain at last
Some rise, some fall, some climb
To get to Terrapin" 

~ Robert Hunter 

It's Robert Hunter's birthday! This is one of my favorite lyrics - it mixes story with mystery and some of the tropes of ecstatic poetry.


Terrapin Station
Robert Hunter

Let my inspiration flow, 
in token rhyme suggesting rhythm
That will not forsake me, 
till my tale is told and done

While the fire light's aglow, 
strange shadows from the flames will grow
Till things we've never seen will seem familiar

Shadows of a sailor forming 
winds both foul and fair, all swarm
Down in Carlisle he loved a lady many years ago

Here beside him stands a man, 
a soldier by the looks of him
Who came through many fights, but lost at love

While the story teller speaks, 
a door within the fire creaks,
Suddenly flies open, 
and a girl is standing there

Eyes alight, with glowing hair, 
all that fancy paints as fair
She takes her fan and throws it in the lion's den

Which of you to gain me, tell, 
will risk uncertain pains of hell?
I will not forgive you if you will not take the chance

The sailor gave at least a try; 
the soldier, being much too wise,
Strategy was his strength, and not disaster

The sailor, coming out again, 
the lady fairly leapt at him
That's how it stands today. 
You decide if he was wise

The story teller makes no choice, 
soon you will not hear his voice
His job is to shed light, and not to master

Since the end is never told 
we paid the teller off in gold
In hopes he will come back, 
but he cannot be bought or sold

Inspiration, move me brightly
Light the song with sense and colour
Hold away despair
More than this I will not ask
Faced with mysteries dark and vast
Statements just seem vain at last
Some rise, some fall, some climb
To get to Terrapin

Counting stars by candlelight
All are dim but one is bright
The spiral light on Venus
Rising first and shining best
Oh, from the north-west corner
Of a brand new crescent moon
Where crickets and cicadas sing
A rare and different tune

Terrapin Station

In the shadow of the moon
Terrapin Station

And I know we'll be there soon
(Terrapin)

I can't figure out
(Terrapin)

If it's the end or beginning
(Terrapin)

But the train's put it brakes on
(Terrapin)

And the whistle is screaming
Terrapin


While you were gone
These faces filled with darkness
The obvious was hidden
With nothing to believe in
The compass always points to Terrapin
Sullen wings of fortune beat like rain
You're back in Terrapin for good or ill again
For good or ill again


Looking up Hunter's lyrics to choose a quote, I found many links to The Well - the precursor to every social network!

Researching Hunter, I learned that Reuben & Cerise is not only a retelling of the classical myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, but that it was inspired by one of the most wonderful films ever made - Black Orpheus . 

Black Orpheus sets the myth Brazil. Maybe a good thing to check out during the World Cup if you might not be too much of a football fan (like me) you could still get into the spirit.



The Orpheus myth is rich and seems to always be culturally relevant. Monteverdi's opera is getting a new version and before Black Orpheus, French filmmaker and poet
Jean Cocteau filmed his beautiful lyrical version.

Happy Monday!

Hope this is enough stuff for you to procrastinate with as you start the week! (It certainly helped me procrastinate!)

p.s. The pic is Klimt's Lady with a Fan