Humorless, almost always scowling pack of brothers (and the retarded cousin) from Tennessee, the Kings of Leon. I’ve always found them to be absolute dullards - but now, I’ve heard them speak. The self-serving, aimless output of material makes them a “cool” fashion accessory, nothing more. Largely/ totally ignored in the US four albums in, as their weight, hair, and delicate facial structure slackens and expands, they are indebted to no single original idea. It is safe to say that they are 100% illogical.
For sometime now, I’ve been entrenched in a sort of “spiritual crisis” – I us the phony phrase to elude what’s really amiss: in a nutshell, I’m teetering on death’s door. But for some reason, every other moment is dreadfully soothing – a far-out likeliness that maybe you’ll get the nerve sometime soon to do yourself in. But . . . I suppose that if you’re not willing to anything about it – there’s no sense in protest. Which is far easier said than done.
I’ve also just read up on David Foster Wallace. Sensible fella – take it his angst was a bit overdue.
Incensed and hostile, this record parallels the mournful tone of "Automatic for the People." Released subsequent to the passing of Kurt Cobain and River Phoenix, the record defines the end of an era - the last gasp of idealism - all that could have been. Easily the most flamboyant record in the catalog, Stipe's lyrics twist and turn, as if he himself writhes in agony. This is without a doubt R.E.M.’s last great work, showcasing Michael Stipe's point of no return.
It is much too evident to say that sympathy is not unlike a commodity - “good,” itemized much like anything else; charity, a thinly veiled exploitation of self; an extension of vanity. Yet there was a time, not too long ago, when there were selfless individuals who committed to behaving decently, as imposing as that may sound.
Michael Stipe is such a consummate human specimen, inside and out. A regimented artist pouring his leftovers to create always consistent integral wealth. Capable of occupying persona’s befitting all of humanity (even the ugly ones). I do not choose to revere him, but rather surrender to him.
Over time, and after countless exact works, he has materialized into a surrogate father of the helpless; the miserable; the “low.” Encapsulating all sorrow thru trauma. As it should be (see: Nirvana).
In an era where the middle-class was eradicated, and Americans plagued with countless pestilences (AIDS, crack, Reagan), Stipe persevered –transcending all expectations one has of image, sexuality, and artistic shelf life, never bargaining for the sake of profit or lack of imagination (see: Bono, Morrissey, Robert Smith).
Mourning came in the form of “Automatic for the People.”
Any seething contempt concealed... for the most part (see: “Monster”).
Goodwill is a commodity, much like everything is. “Good” has been itemized much like anything else - charity: a thinly veiled exploitation of self, or an extension of vanity. Yet there was a time, not too long ago, when there were selfless individuals who committed to ethics and goodwill, without a seconds hesitation.
Michael Stipe is such a consummate human specimen - inside and out. Capable of occupying persona’s befitting all of mankind - he is the Christ figure of the 20th century. I do not choose to revere him, but rather surrender to him. Over time, and after countless exact works, he has materialized into a surrogate father of the helpless; the miserable; the “low.” Encapsulating all sorrow thru trauma. How art should always be channeled (see: Nirvana). In an era where the middle-class was eradicated, and Americans plagued with countless pestilences (AIDS, crack, Reagan), Stipe hammered away. Unscathed or not, mourning came in the form of “Automatic for the People.” – transcending all expectations of image and shelf life one may have, never bargaining for the sake of profit or lack of imagination (see: Bono, Morrissey, Robert Smith). Today, we see a splintered persona of his former self. His intention remains true, but his well has been drained.
Being partial to the elderly seems rational. Since life expectancy has steadily climbed over history, it just seems that we've found ways to celebrate someone's obvious, diminished life. Consider John McCain for example: lampooned endlessly for his pronounced seniority. There comes a time when one's worth has run it's course. Some may lead fulfilling lives, others may not. It is always best to make an exit while dignity is intact. Or your beauty, at least.
Sure, there are exceptions. Paul Newman, for one. He was a man of great talent, and goodwill. Yet he was a relic of a bygone era of elegance and raw charisma that is rare in today's expendable, non-talent mill of so-called entertainers. Sure - everyone is famous for 15 minutes - but at the cost of all decorum.Other than that - this contention that 30 is the new 20 is an awkward attempt to instill despondent individuals with the belief that their so-called "self-worth" is really of value - which it isn't. We must live in truth and attempt to justify our meager existence - even if it's a ruse to disguise whatever plagues us - in an effort to get at something genuine.If all else fails, live your life as if it were a work of art. http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/19/movies/19harr.html
Hey. It's called tact, you fuck-rag.Being completely reasonable, one can tolerate so much when living according to a foundation built out of chaos and total meaninglessness.
This was a sincere approach exemplifying the true angst one feels when one's consciousness is conditioned just right (constituents being: the relative association between positive and negative – trauma / euphoria, or just a spoiled, tragic-free suburban upbringing). Therefore realizing the emptiness of existence. There are very few approaches filmmakers have at their disposal nowadays when influencing a viewer. We are resistant to just about everything, especially a notion that contradicts our very lives, such as suicide. Given that most works of art pitched at the divide between poetry and entertainment (see Nirvana) are usually user friendly and digestible, this movie is quite simple to interpret: An uninhibited satire of contemporary reality. For the sake of argument, the behavior of the Farber family (Watts, Roth) absolutely confirms all the feelings of repugnance one can feel (daily) toward another person. Considering that the two main characters (Pitt, Corbet) remain absolutely courteous and very cool during the course of the film, it is easy to fall for them over the trivial nature of the family. Each epitomize facets that few procure in a lifetime, be it charisma, presence, whatever – notable figures (fiction and real) include: Billy Loomis and Stu in Scream; Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold of Littleton, Colorado. Even Jesse James. Once through, mull over your own infallibility (and those around you) according to: hierarchy; expendability, value (weighty notions, indeed). And of course, never forget the importance of entertainment. Pop cultural astuteness is always a good thing. Grade: A
Bearing in mind that identity has outgrown it’s use; enigma’s scrambled, and all dares protested, this admission may be a shot in the dark . . . seeing as nihilism is hard to resist in 2008. In short / we are bound to no one or anything. This is just a fourth-rate attempt at collating any precious thought retained, due to exceptional, tedious experience, then channeling into a satisfactory arena. Hopefully, we’re not past the point of no return. Just seething with expectation that may never come.
Billy Corgan has yielded. Well, most of the generation before us has. That is of no consequence. They now only serve as chaperones into tomorrow. http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2008/oct/17/smashing-pumkins-anniversary
The era bookended by My Own Private Idaho and The Matrix; Automatic for the People and Return of Saturn; was a last effort at authenticity, regarded by those who fashioned it as a ghastly reminder at what can be, but never will due to ill will and scaled awareness.
This may be all too obvious, or lingered upon - trying to fit into the high school clothes that don't fit any longer.That's a paraphrased quotation of Corgan's...
According to Of Montreal's over the hill frontman, Kevin Barnes, not selling out is, "an impossible code that no one can actually live by." This sort of cowardice diminishes the great effort many have taken in order to preserve integrity. Never compromise. It's too easy to concede. If you believe it to be okay, you're either too old to be ostentatious; of any consequence, or Henry Rollins.
I amuse myself by writing short stories; (barely) reviewing films; listening to some choice tunes... this is all very indulgent , but it staves away the fatigue. I'm 23.
Humorless, almost always scowling pack of brothers (and the retarded cousin) from Tennessee, the Kings of Leon. I’ve always found them to be absolute dullards - but now, I’ve heard them speak. The self-serving, aimless output of material makes them a “cool” fashion accessory, nothing more. Largely/ totally ignored in the US four albums in, as their weight, hair, and delicate facial structure slackens and expands, they are indebted to no single original idea. It is safe to say that they are 100% illogical.
