Utilitarian Review 10/17/09

In the Hood

This week we added longtime commenter Richard Cook to our blogging roster. Richard started off the week by sneering efficiently at the new Spider Woman motion comic.

I followed that up by sneering at all editorial cartoonists and particularly Jules Feiffer.

Vom Marlowe, not to be outdone, sneered at Supergirl.

Kinukitty — a beacon of sunshine and light — broke the streak by speaking with affection and kindness of the manga yaoi Prince Charming.

Perhaps inspired by such cheeriness, Vom Marlowe came back to post about her love of manga how-to books, and of ink.

And finally Suat finished up the week with the second part of his essay on Benoît Peeters’ and François Schuiten’s Philosophical Cities series. The first part was on The Great Wall of Samaris, if you missed it. The second part focuses on Fever in Urbicand.

This week’s music download with folk and bluegrass and German vampire music and Thai pop and whatnot is here

And if you missed it, last week’s music download filled with cheesy contemporary country and other songs of heartbreak is here. Get it before Mediafire decides to randomly delete it.

Over the River and Through the Hood

At Splice Today, I have a long review of Carl Wilson’s “Let’s Talk About Love: A Journey to the End of Taste,” his book for 33 1/3 about trying to love Celine Dion.

Wilson’s book, then, turns out to not really be a polemic in the rockist/popist internecine war. Instead, it’s a statement of faith—though of faith in what isn’t entirely clear. Democracy, perhaps? Art? Celine herself? Terry Eagleton comments in Reason, Faith, and Revolution that “certain of our commitments are constitutive of who we are, we cannot alter them without what Christianity traditionally calls a conversion, which involves a lot more than just swapping one opinion for another.” Wilson seems to be almost inverting this, proposing, or hoping, that if we can but treat our opinions as constitutive of whom we are, we can experience a conversion merely by changing them.

At the Chicago Reader I review Barbara Ehrenreich’s new book Bright-Sided.

The left is in love with false consciousness. Ever since Karl Marx called religion an opiate, progressives have been pulling on their muckraking boots, breaking out the bullhorns, and shouting “Wake up!” at the supposedly somnolent masses. While the paranoid right tends to see its enemies as corrupt conspirators, the left prefers to assume its opponents are merely dim bulbs, just one well-argued monograph away from enlightenment.

I review the Numero Group’s great 70s-80s collection of male singer-songwriter folk, Wayfaring Strangers: Lonesome Heroes over at Metropulse.

Beyond the Valley of the Hood

Some random, not necessarily timely links from around the comics blogosphere:

Mark Andrew on the Haney/Aparo Brave and Bold run.

Jones, one of the Jones boys on continuity ( and more here.)

Robert Stanley Martin makes the case that Julius Schwartz was the one really responsible for Alan Moore’s Superman story, Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow.

I’m still holding out for Tucker to actually smear feces on Kramer’s Ergot 7, but till then, this is quite entertaining.

And hey, here’s something random: a Thai pop video!

Update: Not that anyone actually cares but me, but the singer in this video is Pamela Bowden. She seems to have gotten her start in the 90s doing dance-pop, and then moved into a more ballady style called loog thung, I think. I think this song is off her album E-nang Dance volume 1, maybe? There are a bunch of youtube videos of her performing, but hardly any information in English that I could track down anyway. I found a website which seemed to be selling her music and ordered some…we’ll see if it ever arrives.

I love this song though.

Update 2: She’s native Thai, apparently, but of Australian descent, according to one YouTube commenter.

Face Down In The Mainstream: Supergirl

Supergirl #44 October 2009

Gates, Igle, Sibal

In my relentless quest to find interesting and readable mainstream comics that have female characters in plots that don’t make me reel back in horror, I picked up Supergirl. Oddly, I thought that since the comic was named after her, it would feature her character.

Just goes to show that I am ignorant about comics.

The comic begins with no introduction or backstory and focuses on a strange, large, lumpy man in lavender spandex. He’s been captured by someone and he wants out. Eventually, he fights a John McCain lookalike and frees himself:

His eyes glow red and he speaks in Zapf Dingbats, so you know he’s crazy or possessed.

We switch to a scene with the Supe himself, walking with Lois Lane, who is looking dumpy and strange in loose and unattractive eighties style modular knits. There’s talk between various big dogs while Supergirl (I had to guess based on her outfit), looks left out and or pensive. Eventually, they allow her to go talk to her childhood best friend, as long as she is chaperoned by some other guy.

Meanwhile, a female reporter in Frederick’s Of Hollywood hookerwear tries to find some leads.

Supergirl fights her childhood friend and gets possessed, which you can tell by the cover of the comic and the odd overlay of purple glowy light on her face in the last panel.

That’s it, really.

Lumpy men in gross purple bodysuits and a sad, forlorn, actionless and directionless mini-superheroine.

Ugh.

Note to comic writers: Come on. Who thought this was a good idea? The heroine takes no action. She has zero growth. No initiative. Hell, she has no character! And the art sucks.

Utilitarian Review 10/9/09

Hoods Here

This week was devoted for the most part to our bande desinee roundtable. Special thanks to Derik Badman for his special guest contribution. Please check out his own blog, won’t you?

Despite my ongoing struggles with mediafire, I did post a mix last week, including Sonic Youth, experimental chinese music, Michio Kurihara, the inevitable Chopin, and other dreamy drony things. Download it now before mediafire makes it disappear in their mysterious way.

Hoods There

Bunch of stuff this week. First, I have an article about why Bob Wills is country and not jazz over at Splice Today.

The point here isn’t that Wills was ripping off Count Basie like Elvis ripped off Jackie Wilson. Rather, that “ripping off” doesn’t really do justice to the pervasive way in which race and marketing have affected American music. Because the fact is that Bob Wills is different from Count Basie. He used different instruments, he played different songs, he didn’t use the same musicians. (Segregation meant he couldn’t have, even if he wanted to.) Those differences could have been less important than the similarities, but, because of history and marketing and race, they weren’t. Similarly, Elvis is different from Jackie Wilson, and contemporary R&B is different from contemporary country. How music gets labeled affects who listens to it, who loves it, who uses it, and, thus, what it is.

My interview with Andee at the amazing San Francisco record store Aquarius Records is online at Madeloud. Here’s an excerpt, including a little bit that didn’t make the published version:

Me: Looking at these lists online, you sort of get the feeling that the store itself must be gigantic. How big is the store? How many records do you have in stock at one time?

Andee: That’s funny. It really does. And I sometimes feel bad when someone finally gets to visit, having come all the way from Japan or the UK, I feel like we should apologize for how small the store is, but almost always, people dig it. It’s small-ISH, but there’s tons of records, cds, plants in the windows, posters and flyers, and crap all over the walls, doors and posts and windows have been painted by artists, there are video games (a Tron, a Rastan and a Joust, and we usually have a Ghosts And Goblins, but that one’s broken), there’s good music playing, it’s just really comfortable and worn and home-y, the way a record store should be. I love places like Amoeba and Virgin and Tower, but that’s a whole different vibe, places like aQuarius are more inviting to just hang out, browse, shoot the shit with whoever is working, play some Joust. I like it like that. As for how many records we have in the store, only a fraction of what’s on the website. we’re usually full to capacity, but the cool thing about visiting is, there’s always plenty of stuff that is NOT on the site, maybe stuff we haven’t reviewed yet, stuff that we were only able to get a few copies, not enough to post on the site, some stuff that just won’t make it on the site, for whatever reason, not to mention TONS of awesome used stuff, and new arrivals and more…..

Also Splice Today has reprinted my review of Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way, which ran some years back in the Baffler. (I think it was my first published essay, actually.) And I have a review of a Tommy Cash reissue at Metropulse.

Hoods Everywh…Oh, Wait, Those Aren’t Hoods

A note on this website points out that the deevolutionizer in this issue of Wonder Woman apparently inspired Devo. Who knew?

Diana Kingston-Gabai explains that crossovers still suck.

This is a great fucking essay by Terry Eagleton about what atheists are stupid and god is great, even if he isn’t real.

And so the very act of attempting to close history down has sprung it open again. Both at home and globally, economic liberalism rides roughshod over peoples and communities, and in the process triggers just the kind of violent social and cultural backlash that liberalism is least capable of handling. In this sense, too, terrorism highlights certain contradictions endemic to liberal capitalism. We have seen already that pluralistic liberal societies do not so much hold beliefs as believe that people should be allowed freely to hold beliefs. The summum bonum is to leave believers to get on with it unmolested. Such a purely formal or procedural approach to belief necessitates keeping entrenched faiths or identities at a certain ironic arm’s length.

Yet this value—liberal society’s long, unruly, eternally inconclusive argument—also brings vulnerability. A tight national consensus, desirable in the face of external attack, is hard to pull off in liberal democracies, and not least when they turn multicultural. Lukewarmness about belief is likely to prove a handicap when one is confronted with a full-bloodedly metaphysical enemy. The very pluralism you view as an index of your spiritual strength may have a debilitating effect on your political authority, especially against zealots who regard pluralism as a form of intellectual cowardice. The idea, touted in particular by some Americans, that Islamic radicals are envious of Western freedoms is about as convincing as the suggestion that they are secretly hankering to sit in cafés smoking dope and reading Gilles Deleuze.

This is actually the last chapter of Eagleton’s latest book, “Reason, Faith and Revolution,” which is amazing. Best purchase on Amazon I’ve made in a good long while. If you want to check it out, it’s here.

Utilitarian Review 10/2/09

On the Hooded Utilitarian

The week started off with my review of Wonder Woman #18 of the Marston/Peter run, which I compared to John Carpenter’s Christine.

Vom Marlowe continued her perusal of Batwoman.

I sneered at The Long Halloween.

KInukitty explored her tortured love affair with Kazuna Uchida’s I Shall Never Return.

And I reviewed the collected black and white Zot.

And you can see the tracklist and download my Thrash by Thrash mix here.

Next week, by the by, we are doing a bande desinee roundtable, with special guest blogger Derik Badman.

Utilitarians Everywhere

Over at Comixology I compare comics sales figures to those of other entertainment products.

Also to my surprise, big-event books appear to actually outsell big-event CDs and DVDs. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows sold more than 8 million copies on its first day on sale in the U.S., which makes Lil’ Wayne’s 2.8 million albums over a year look pretty puny. And, of course, 8 million copies is just about the total bookstore sales for all graphic novels in all of 2008, according to Brian Hibbs’ figures. Obviously, Harry Potter is exceptional…but Dan Brown’s most recent book was also selling in the hundreds of thousands on its first couple of days. Breaking Dawn, the last Twilight book, sold 1.3 million copies on the first day.

I talk about some of my favorite less successful contemporary R&B albums from the last ten years or so at Madeloud. Among them, Brandy’s Afrodisiac:

The commercial failure of this album is altogether a mystery. Brandy and Timbaland — how could that go wrong? The problem isn’t the music, anyway; this is indisputably Brandy’s best album…and it may be Timbaland’s as well. Brandy’s rich, resonant, slightly burred vocals fit perfectly with the washes of sound in Timbaland’s mature style. Far from being overpowered, Brandy instead becomes the most potent effect in Timbaland’s arsenal. On “Who Is She 2 U,” Timbaland opens with some patented funky/goofy stuttering and then Brandy slides in with her patented heart-stopping vocals, one of the sexiest sounds in R & B. The whole album’s like that; idiosyncratic genius and funky wit fused with absolutely unironic heartbreak and desire. Maybe Brandy’s fans just weren’t ready for her to go avant-garde and Timbaland’s weren’t ready to see him embrace the sincerity of the slow jam. Which is said fan’s loss; this is one of the great syntheses of black music in the last twenty years at least.

I review The Anthology of Experimental Chinese Music at Madeloud as well.

And I have an enthusiastic review of the great new Mariah Carey album up at Metropulse.

Other Links

I’ve been reading a bit of rock critic Carl Wilson. Some highlights are his article on why only hipsters make fun of hipsters, and also on why for indie rock class is more important than race.

Shannon Garrity is doing an epic series of posts on yaoi; this one about why yaoi is popular is a balanced and thoughtful look at the subject.

Face Down In The Mainstream: Batwoman Pt. 2

Eyecandy.

I like it. But it’s tough to have nothing but eyecandy. There needs to be a structure, a frame, a skeleton for the flesh to hang upon.

Unfortunately, the skeleton of this week’s Batwoman is sort of wimpy and dull. Which is too bad, because the art continues to be very very nummy.

In this episode (#855, Sept 09), Batwoman fights the loli-goth villainess, Alice. It should be tons of fun, but Alice is just regular old crazy instead of being interestingly batshit insane. The two tussle and Batwoman disarms her and then Alice slashes Batwoman with a razor hidden in her mouth. It’s laced with poison, which is also sort of boring, really, as villainous feints go, but it does give the artist a chance to do this, which makes is worthwhile:

Isn’t that pretty? I love the scrollwork and the design elements and the way everything becomes lush and strange.

So Batwoman has sad but very pretty insane imaginings and then we get to see Alice go back to her minions. Again, there’s some interesting play with the layout:


Then there’s another little tussle. It’s kind of stock and there’s a cliffhanger where what seems to be werewolves and octopus creatures show up. I had hoped that maybe they’d do something with the Alice theme, because I’m bored with stock weird monsters. It would be so much more fun if the werewolves were wearing top hats and vests with pockets and if the octopuses had to wear red and white livery. But oh well. Maybe things will be brought to an exciting climax in the last issue, but I’m not holding my breath.

In short: Beautiful art but boring story.

Bound to Blog: Wonder Woman #18

That’s a kind of generic cover for Peter; the knight’s certainly nicely drawn (love that plume), but overall it’s fairly static and boring by his standards. Part of that may be that it’s trying to be coy: Marston/Peter have a secret return villain, and they don’t want to give it away. But here I come spoiling it 60 years later: the villain in this issue is:

Dr. Psycho!.

Remember him from Issue #5? Little dwarf guy? Hated women so hypnotized them to cause them to send forth ectoplasm so he could take on different shapes? How could you forget, right?

Well, anyway, as so often happens with sequels, this one isn’t nearly as much fun as the original. No giant space kangas, for instance. No battle with Ares (who was originally using Psycho to prevent women from getting involved in the war effort.) Instead, there’s a much less convoluted plot involving Psycho trying to wreak revenge on WW and her pals. There’s as always some nice art, and Marston/Peter do seem committed to the wordless sequences now:

That last one, with Peter showing the movement through ghost images as WW throws herself into a backflip with her hands tied behind her back, is pretty spectacular. Despite such moment, though, this one isn’t the best of all possible Marston/Peter efforts.

But even mediocre Marston/Peter has some pretty interesting stuff going on. In particular, this one made me wonder about that all important question: Is the phallus female? (I know you’ve always wondered.) To answer that, we’re going to make a detour and talk about John Carpenter’s Christine.

Christine is about Arnie Cunningham, a nerdy, sweet high school kid who discovers a sentient car named Christine. The car possesses him, and he turns into a cool fifties greaser type, who’s attractive to girls and emotionally inaccessible and really dangerous. I talked briefly about Christine a ways back:

Christine the car is, of course, supposed to be a woman…but any car is obviously literally genderless, and the secretive nature of his relationship with her, plus her violence and the fact that, hey, she’s a car…if she’s a woman, she’s awfully, awfully butch, is all I’m saying. Arnie,of course, gets more and more manly and tough and evil the more time he spends with the car — which on the one hand suggests that, hey, he’s got a girl now, so he’s a man — but on the other hand suggests that he becomes more of a man by caring less and less about girls. Yeah; total agonized male fantasy of being simultaneously consumed by femininity and consumed by masculinity; the orgasmic collapse/reification of male identity — being castrated so you can turn into a penis (at the close Arnie is penetrated by a piece of glass from Christine’s windshield, caressing her one last time before he dies. Being violated by her, having her in control, is what makes him most male; emotionally inaccessible, commanding, finally murderous. Christine is ultimately masculinity itself, which possesses Arnie; but at the same time that masculinity is feminine — since it doesn’t reside in a particular body, and ambiguous genders are always coded feminine.

Christine in the movie functions as a phallus; before he gets her, Arnie is a typical feminized nerd; when he gets her, he becomes a manly embodiment of pitiless law, hunting down those who attack his car, or who steal his girl, or who just look at him funny, really. So Christine is what makes him a man. But she’s also, obviously, a woman, or at least feminized, which suggests that what makes you a man is a woman.

That’s not all that odd a concept…the whole point of the trophy girlfriend, for example, is that you demonstrate your manliness by walking around with a female status appendage. But Christine pushes the idea to an unusual extreme; Christine isn’t just a status symbol; she’s actually the source of power — not so much a sign of the phallus as the phallus itself. That’s part of the anxiety in the movie. Ta-Nehisi Coates has talked at various points about the idea that misogyny stems in part from male fears of being rejected, or being unable to deal with the emotional vulnerability inherent in having a relationship with a woman who can accept or reject you. I can see that…but at the same time I think there’s also an anxiety around the fact that women hold the keys to masculinity;men are forced to rely on women to prove that they are as men. Arnie puts himself in thrall to female power, and while that makes him a man, it also makes him a monster.

So, back over to Dr. Pyscho. As I mentioned, Psycho’s power, like Arnie’s, actually derives from women. The ectoplasm he uses to change form comes out of his female mediums. And you can tell it’s female, because it’s pink!

Psycho, like pre-Christine Arnie, isn’t very masculine. He needs to tap into female power to turn himself into a man’s man such as….Tyrone Gayblade, the great lover!

There’s a certain logic to that; if male power comes from women, then it should be queer (this is the case in Christine too, where Arnie’s secretive relationship with Christine reads as gay in certain ways, as I mentioned above.)

The kind of power Psycho gets from the women is also arguably female in nature. In the first place, he keeps turning himself into women, inlcuding the paragon of womanhood herself:

I bet that Marston really enjoyed the chance to write briefly about an evil WW…and perhaps especially about a man masquerading as an evil WW. (There’s another duplicate WW story here. At the same time, it’s interesting that the WW double didn’t show up on the cover. Duplicate WW clones of various stripes would become an obsession for Silver Age writers — a way, maybe, for creators to express their distaste and distrust of the character, or perhaps just their indifference by throwing oodles of generic clones into the plot. Marston, on the other hand, tosses the idea off and moves on to something else. There is a note or two about how the military brass mistrusts WW briefly because she appears to have stolen their secret weapon…but it’s treated as an aside, whereas in the Silver Age it would have been the main focus of the story. Marston isn’t interested in having people hate WW; she’s not Spider-Man. The point is everybody loves her! That’s what being a hero is all about, damn it.

Where was I?

Oh, right.

So Psycho gets to be a powerful guy by deriving power from women. Partly, that means that he’s more manly. Partly, it means he’s more queer. Partly it means he’s more female. But above all, it means he’s got the phallus:

I love that; the pastor who is about to perform a wedding dissolves into pink, ropy, sticky tendrils, binding the wedding party in sticky bondage goo. Luckily, though, WW is more of a man, and more of a woman, than Psycho, so she can turn the phallus on him:

Great panel at the end: “You’ll live happily in our Amazon prison, Joan.” Joyful bondage, hooray!

As in Christine, there’s some anxiety here — but it seems more connected to male power than to female power. In Christine, the female power corrupts the man (turning him into an uber man); here, it’s more like the man corrupts female power (turning it into a phallus.) The wedding turns into an abject nightmare of goopy penis tentacle rape because the man is in control; once WW reclaims the ectoplasm for femininity, all is well.

You may be wondering who’s getting married, incidentally. Why, it’s…Etta Candy and Tyrone Gayblade!

Who knew Etta was so eager to get married? It does seem kind of out of character for our butch, independent, entirely orally oriented comic relief. But on the other hand, Etta doesn’t seem especially distressed when things don’t pan out.

Easy come, easy go. And yes, her long-suffering, nerdy, dominated suitor is named Sweetgulper.

Oh, and I couldn’t leave this issue without showing you this:

Psycho hypnotized one of his mediums by drawing his own eyes on a piece of paper and sending it to her. He really is tricky.

____________________

Just as a final thought: Greg Rucka used Dr. Psycho in his run on the issue. Basically, he turns Psycho into a mental rapist, controlling women with the power of his mind for sexual thirlls. The fact that Psycho’s power derives from women is entirely lost…making the character a lot more rote and boring, I think. Also, you know, there aren’t pink strands of ectoplasm everywhere. Which seems like a missed opportunity.

Utilitarian Review 9/25/09

On the Hooded Utilitarian

This week started out with me posting on Marston/Peter Wonder Woman #17, the Sailor Moon manga and what parents talk about in the park when they talk about comics.

Vom Marlowe did the first in a series of posts about Batwoman.

Suat wondered why on earth people like to collect racist comic art.

And finally Kinukitty wrote about the yaoi manga Future Lovers.

Utilitarians Everywhere

I’ve got a long review of Jennifer’s Body up at the Chicago Reader. Here’s a quote:

Jennifer’s Body is different. The film centers not on Jennifer and her male oppressors/victims but on Jennifer and her BFF, Anita, or “Needy.” Jennifer and Needy have remained friends since nursery school, even though Jennifer has blossomed into Fox, one of the sexiest women in the world, and Needy is played by the merely gorgeous Amanda Seyfried—a geek by Hollywood standards. Jennifer is shallow, dominant, and demanding; she drags Needy away from her boyfriend and out to bars, verbally shoots down guys, and runs around after indie rockers best left alone. Needy is sensitive, smart, and cautious, always careful not to upstage her friend, and . . . well, you know the drill. Over the course of the movie, Needy realizes that she and Jennifer have grown apart, and that the friend she once loved is now a jealous bitch, not to mention a demon from the pits of hell who wants to eat Chip (Johnny Simmons), Needy’s sweet, long-suffering boyfriend.

Also, I’ll be speaking at Randolph-Macon college on Wonder Woman at the end of October. I’ll probably announce it again closer to the date so you can all leap on planes to attend.

Other Links

I found a really entertaining comics blog by one Michael Buntag called NonSensical Words. Among the articles I enjoyed: a takedown of the recent Wonder Woman arc and an essay about the mistreatment of Captain Marvel.

Jog’s lovely review of the upcoming Johnny Ryan battle comic.

I like this Wonder Woman drawing.

Haven’t read all of this, but it looks like a great Alan Moore interview.

And finally an awesome retro 80s video by Toya. B-boys in space!