Five Song Friday: My No-Win Situation
This Week: Big Questions, Death Wishes and Swedish Snakemen
All I wanted to do was write a few silly words about sexual misconduct.
Easier said than done.
It turns out that the subject is a minefield. Even the slightest misinterpreted insinuation could trigger a chain reaction of emotional explosions.
I want to say some things about men behaving badly. I want to ask genuine questions about cancel culture and forgiveness and interpersonal politics. I think I can be curious and sensitive, but I’m also a straight white man of a certain age.
These days, we’re commonly referred to as THE WORST.
So I hesitate and second guess. Should I share my thoughts in electronic word form?
One voice inside my head says, “No, it’s too hard and scary!”
Second voice (giggling): “That’s what she said.”
Third is a voicemail from HR.
But there are times when you have to ignore the voices and just listen to your gut. You know something is a bad idea, but fate has put you on the path and all you can do is go with the flow.
That’s probably how the first cannibal in the Donner Party felt.
Winter 1846. Stranded in the snowy Sierra Nevada mountains with no food and one decision: starve to death or eat a corpse.
Yikes. The will to live is strong. But eating a dead person is super gross.
Where do you start? There’s no good place to dig in on the human body.
It would be so much easier if people had 2-foot submarine sandwiches for arms. Tater tots for toes. Or scones and muffins instead of genitals. But alas, we are just disgusting piles of skin, bones and hair.
Maybe the best way to start is to just close your eyes and take a bite.
So here goes…
I was supposed to be in Washington DC tonight for a concert with Arcade Fire and Beck, but Win Butler’s penis ruined everything.
Butler is the lead singer of Arcade Fire and several women have come forward to recount various levels of alleged inappropriateness, harassment and misconduct.
Polite ways of referring to sexual abuse.
Win has apologized and categorized the past encounters as “consensual sex.” Butler’s wife and bandmate, Régine Chassagne, released a statement vouching for her husband’s chivalrous nature and forgiving his marital indiscretions.
As you can guess, things did not magically get better.
The artist known as Feist gave up her opening spot on the Arcade Fire tour with a lengthy statement that was short on specifics but came down firmly on the side of people who’ve endured abuse and firmly against everything to do with “baseline toxic masculinity,” and “pervasive misogyny.”
Beck jumped ship earlier this month.
Beck didn’t release a statement, but was heard mumbling something about the “forces of evil in a bozo nightmare” and “plastic eyeballs, spray-paint the vegetables,
dog food stalls with the beefcake pantyhose.”
He’s a weirdo. But here’s my point…
I was supposed to be at the show with my wife and teenage daughter. My wife and I were excited for the music because the last Arcade Fire tour was one of the best concerts we’d ever seen.
I was looking forward to shout-singing along to “Two Turntables and a Microphone” and “Wake Up.” I wanted to share that with our daughter. I wanted her to think I was cool.
It was on a Friday in a great venue. I was looking forward to the whole general admission, sea of humanity dance party vibe.
Luckily, I saw the Beck news on Twitter before I paid for a hotel room.
The tweet led to me to the Pitchfork article. I remember making a loud “EEESH” sound before reading bits of it aloud to my wife.
The look on her face made it clear that our weekend was now open.
I get it. I can’t come skipping into a show with my wife and daughter and whoop and holler for a guy who (allegedly) doesn’t understand that “no means no” and thinks it’s a good idea to send pictures of his weiner to ladies who didn’t ask for pictures of his weiner.
So we don’t go. That part is easy.
But what now?
Is my only option to go scorched Earth on the whole Arcade Fire catalog? (Honestly, some of the stuff from Neon Bible wouldn’t be missed.)
Is every song retroactively radioactive? Have Win’s creepy ways tainted every tune?
Do I have to relocate their music to the Box of Shame in my basement along with those Louis C.K. and Bill Cosby comedy albums?
I honestly love Arcade Fire’s music, but is giving them more listens on Spotify the same as supporting them in concert? Is every play a thumbs-up for lecherousness?
Do we live in a new era of absolutes? Is there no room for redemption, forgiveness or change? Do we now go backwards and empty EVERY closet of its skeletons and secrets?
Do we undo the legacies and life’s work of all the male musicians who have thus far escaped the ruin of their past misdeeds?
Maybe the answer is yes.
I genuinely don’t know.
Maybe you do. Or maybe no one does.
That might be why the world feels more insane and off-kilter than ever before.
Although I’m more inclined to blame pumpkin spice.
Win Butler’s penis may have ruined my weekend plans, but pumpkin spice ruins everything.
Thanks for reading! Have a Happy Halloween!
Sincerely,
DJ CrankyPete
Five Song Friday 036
“Hardcore Days & Softcore Nights” - Aqueduct
According to the internets, musician David Terry (aka Aqueduct) relocated from Tulsa to Seattle in 2003 and 12 hours after arriving, opened for Modest Mouse.
That almost never happens.
From what I understand, Modest Mouse has always had a strict 48-hour decontamination policy. Any opening band arriving from another state or country must quarantine inside the Seattle airport Hilton for two days. They must not order room service or handle the remote control with bare hands.
How did Aqueduct circumvent these rules? By being super goddamned special, that’s how.
“What the Hell is This for?” - Aloan
The now-defunct Swiss band asks a good question.
“The Hop” - Radio Citizen, Bajka
Radio Citizen was founded in Berlin by Niko Schabel. This track is from their 2006 album, Berlin Serengeti, and features vocals from the global chanteuse known as Bajka (pronounced bai-kah).
If you need to put this music in a box, you could file it under dub, hip-hop, jazz or world music. If you want to put in a drawer, go ahead and label that drawer “Super Dope Funky Chillout.” You can also put it on that shelf in the family room next to the conch shell you found in the Bahamas.
But don’t put it in a corner. Nobody puts Bajka in the corner.
“Sunshine State” - Pixey
Fun fact about this Liverpool-based indie singer: she suffered a near fatal viral illness in early 2016!
Okay, I know that doesn’t SOUND fun, but it was during her time in hospital while staring into the cold black eyes of the Grim Reaper that she vowed to abandon the rat race of regularity and chase her passion for manic pixie dream girl music-making.
Pixey said, “When I thought I was going to die I thought of all the things I wish I’d done and music was the first thing I thought of.”
The second thing was crystal meth.
“Sports” - Viagra Boys
Viagra Boys is a rock band from Stockholm. This song is not for everyone.
But if you enjoy the word “sports” and noisy, chaotic endings that sound as if the lead singer is swallowing the microphone whole like a slinky, tatted-up Swedish boa constrictor, this is your kind of jam.
Listen on Spotify
Listen on YouTube Music
That’s all for now. Thanks for reading!
“Virtually every writer I know would rather be a musician.” - Kurt Vonnegut