Dispatch from Manila: Songs of the City

A ten-hour flight from Honolulu to the Philippines translates into a quantum leap from Monday morning to Tuesday evening. In this way, Manila is light-hours ahead of any U.S. city.

Upon your return, you will notice that Manila is a city of noise. The early morning moans of cranes building the latest high-rises. The incessant honking of cars to signal a quick movement, a disagreement, or the recognition of one’s existence. The loud rumble of train tracks above and the tiny voices and large, open palms of pleading beggars from below. These sounds become that much clearer as you try to read Jean-Luc Nancy’s “Listening” on this journey. He instructs you that listening is not just about turning the ear outwards but, also, the turning yourself inwards required so that sounds resonate. You decide that the only way to keep sane in Manila is to deploy this active listening. You sharpen your skills of tuning in and tuning out when necessary.

In the midst of all this cacophony, it’s no wonder that what is pumped out of speakers in taxi cabs and malls in this country are the sounds of soft rock (what scholar/musician Theo Gonzales and theatre artist Allan Manalo dub “the ubiquitous slow jam” and what DJ Un-G and Rani D lovingly refer to as “yacht rock”). The sounds of soft rock not only invoke the archipelagic propensity for sentimentality or are symptomatic of its throwback tendencies, the sounds of soft rock cushion one from the grueling noises that signal a seeming progress and the harsh demands of tropical heat, smog, and urban life. It’s the old De Barge melody that transports me, KT, and Kangagi from our teenage suburban bedrooms to that epic cross-town ride from Divisoria to Makati. It’s the lilting and haunting message from the 1990s Pinoy rock powerhouse, The Eraserheads – an uplifting anthem for the people of this island nation, the musical ethos of those who have too little and know too much.





Just like theory, songs travel. Like that sensual 1980s slow jam, “Careless Whisper.” Previously linked to its famous singer’s notorious escapades, it arose again and penetrated the ears of Filipinos through its repetitive referencing of the Hayden Kho-Katrina Halili sex tape. Despite and through the drama of sex, lies, and videotapes, we stole dance moves (an island instantiation of the insta-snake), fashion (red bandanas), and mottos ("ooh la la" and “sizzling hot!”) which we recreated on VIP dance floors at Ascend, karaoke band stages at Mag:net, and brunches in Quezon City apartments. That well-known lick of crotchy chords famously played on a solo saxophone were dropped, like a DJ inserts a break, into band sets and warm-ups from the indie rock stage at Ortigas Metrowalk's Fete de la Musique to the cavernously intimate playing area of Katipunan’s Route 196. Each time we heard it, each time it was played, we understood it to be a tongue-in-cheek sonic reference to the absurdity of Philippine politics and cultural life.

Careless Whisper - George Michael


When you are a female music critic, you also take songs along with you. You put them on, as ATV brilliantly describes, like the armor you need to get through a day, a sonic force shield of sorts. Like the recent female empowerment offering from Beyonce (made known to me by Rin on the Rox’s pared down, a capella rendition), “If I Were a Boy.” The melody and title lyrics echo in heavy rotation in your head while you avoid eye contact walking down Makati streets or refrain from too much conversation in late-night solitary cab rides or even when just choosing outfits for that day’s jaunt, that evening’s show.

If I were a boy even just for a day
I'd roll out of bed in the morning
And throw on what I wanted
And go drink beer with the guys

And chase after girls
I'd kick it with who I wanted
And I'd never get confronted for it
'Cause they stick up for me




But travel and research is always a two-way pedagogical experience. I learned that being asked each time I arrived alone at a show— “Sino ang kasama mo?” (Who did you come with?)—does not always signal patriarchy or women’s limited social mobility. What it more often gestures towards is the strength of the Filipino social formation—the barkada, or crew. I learned that the directives from Q-Feel’s “Dancing in Heaven” fit perfectly with the tempo of life in Manila, what some might call polyrhythms, as most un-American people know how to keep moving even when life and cars and other people switch their days’ rhythm on them. Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow.

Dancing in Heaven - Q-Feel



No proper way of ending, since this trip is only a beginning…Salamat na lang kay The Diegos (Diyegs and DMaps), Raimund Marasigan, Myrene Academia, Sandwich, Mikey Amistoso, El Bee, Zack Linmark, and Quark Henares for helping me to listen and learn.

Here, a few summer favorites from the streets, bars, and clubs of The Fort, Cubao, Quezon City, and Ortigas that I continue to keep in my musical pocket, for safe keeping. The first - a literal sonic mapping of the city of Manila (from Pedicab, the band that brings you the 45-minute megamix set). The second - a dark and funny noir-ish tribute to dead milkmen (from Ciudad, the band you can check out in New York in Oct/Nov 2009). The third - another artsy and upbeat video about friendship and life's trips (from Bagetsafonik, the band that brings the melodica back in full effect). The fourth - a geometrical journey around Manila's Global City guided by my newest favorite female vocalist, Sarah Marco (from the director that brings the best of David Lynchian aesthetics to Philippine film and the band, Taken by Cars). Enjoy! - CBB

Smooth Criminals: Michael Jackson & the Last ‘Thriller’ in Cebu

Late last night, passing from the waning phase of my jetlag from the Philippines to the jarring realization that my actual sleep schedule in the States has always been fucked up, I sat in a stupor watching the relentless media coverage of Michael Jackson’s death: the prurient repetition of the 9-1-1 phone call; the heartrending messages of mourning from his inner circle of tortured show people like Liza Minnelli and Liz Taylor; the Larry King Live blindsiding of Miko Brando by Deepak Chopra, who accused Michael’s intimate coterie (Miko implicitly included) of enabling the pop star's alleged prescription drug dependency.

Just when I thought all this had to be the sideshow, Anderson Cooper and one of his lady sidekicks on CNN clarified the stakes for me by nervously cackling at the "freakish" spectacle of the CPDRC inmates preparing their last “Thriller in Cebu” tribute for MJ this Saturday.

AC and his gal pal really lost it during the quick cut close-ups of Wenjiel Resane, the transsexual inmate who famously originated the "girlfriend” role in the prisoners' mass “Thriller” reenactment, a viral video sensation that's racked up over 20 million hits since it debuted on YouTube in 2007.

"Yikes!” the devilishly handsome, gay Vanderbilt exclaimed as Wenjiel whipped her hair back in a bluster of baby powder make-up.

AC’s sidekick in the Tina Fey glasses (I think Erica is her name), could only respond to Anderson's awkward, tell-tale giggle of self-recognition by vamping quickly into a he/she, gender trouble joke:

"I don't remember THAT guy! Or was it a woman? I don't know if I wanna know which one it was..."



I can’t deny the quick cut humor of the video and its awkward close-up. Wenjiel is also clearly hamming it up for the cameras. But I still have plenty of reasons to be suspicious and pissed off about AC and his gal pal’s gigglesnorting. What exactly were they laughing at beyond clever editing?

Were they laughing at Wenjiel’s trannyliciousness? Laughing at those crazy Filipinos for being such over-the-top show people with a flair for jazz hands, even in a maximum security prison? Were they laughing at the fact that Anderson was hair-flipping in his heart, but holding it together for the broadcast? (Clearly this is my very reparative read). Or were they laughing at how appropriate a tribute like the Cebu inmates’ video truly is for Michael Jackson who, as Richard Kim explained so eloquently in The Nation, is a “freak like me, a freak like you.”

En masse, through their own spectacle of disciplined collectivity, the CPDRC inmates embody MJ's many demons as well as triumphs: their accountability to an opportunistic and violent task master; their troubled relationship to race as it intersects with celebrity; the naive belief that success and fame will set you free if only in your own mind. These logics associated with MJ's tragedy also expose the world to the Philippines' vexed relationship to American popular culture, to all its "whiteness and promises"--as a typo on the Magic Mic karaoke lyrics to The Carpenters' "We've Only Just Begun" once declared.

(For a ferocious, thoughtful and affecting take on Michael's blackness and gender, see Ernest Hardy's beautiful words, excerpted here at length: "Coming of age amidst proud shouts of 'Black is beautiful' and effortlessly embodying the adage, but somehow getting infected with the centuries-old disease of white supremacy and internalized racism that will have you repeatedly take a knife to your natural born beauty… that’s so very Black...So many of the tributes being written, especially by Negroes, and most especially by Negro males, think they are bestowing the ultimate praise on him by positioning him alongside conventional, traditional soul men or icons of Negro male cool. Make that unquestionable hetero Negro male cool. But the thing about Michael, especially in his adolescent and early adult years, was that he resonated so powerfully precisely because he upended and shimmered beyond gender convention...Mike evolved from childhood mimicry of the masculinity of soul titans to something more complex and more layered. It was his. And it eventually housed a much more problematic sexuality.")

During the frenzy of the 2007 release of the CPDRC "Thriller" video, Wenjiel remarked in a CNN Asia interview that "I tried being a performer before, but no one took any notice…Now, in jail, I have become a star." She continues to share a single cell with about a dozen other transsexuals in the CPDRC, offering us another perspective on Erica's joke to Anderson on CNN:

"We clearly know who the star is in this prison!"

Like their exemplar, Michael Jackson, the CPDRC inmates bear the burden of having their own fame stand in for real reform. Despite the positive PR generated by throngs of tourists who now make special trips to the Cebu prison just to see the inmates' performances, the penal justice system in the Philippines continues to devolve to Marcos-style totalitarianism at the hands of GMA and her cronies.

As I mentioned in an MLA talk this past year, the emergence of the CPDRC dance videos coincided in 2007 with the end of a 4-year moratorium on capital punishment in the Philippines, which was abolished after the first People Power revolution in 1986, but crept back into the criminal justice system in 1993. The man who reintroduced the death penalty into Filipino law was Congressman Pablo Garcia of Cebu. The man who choreographed the inmates’ re-enactments of “Thriller” among other pop hits, is Byron F. Garcia, the Congressman’s son.

Byron choreographed the routines in his official capacity as Consultant on Security for the Cebu Provincial Government, a position he was appointed to by the Governor of Cebu, Gwendolyn Garcia—his sister.

Though the Garcia's bureaucratic family melodrama may be the real 'Thriller in Cebu,' I'll leave that muckraking for another moment in time when we poptimists of the world won't have as much leeway to play fast and loose with metaphors about monarchs.

The King of Pop's tragic fate as a songbird trapped in a gilded cage wrought by the media, as well as of his own making, has and will continue to shape every story about his life and untimely death. And yet I worry that in the frenzy of it all, Michael Jackson's earnestly critical relationship to spectacles of suffering on scales both global and intimate will garner little attention (with the noteworthy exception of course, of Jason King's stunningly comprehensive take on MJ's voice, life and humanitarian efforts on his blog, "Passed the Curve").

Like the legions of poptimists he leaves bereft with his passing, Michael Jackson never stopped believing in the power of pop to (at the very least) try. To try to say something important, even if it sounds silly and schmaltzy, or fails miserably. To try bringing the world together even as it all falls apart (as he so famously did when he climbed atop an SUV to wave to spectators at his own arraignment in 2005). To try giving your best performance day in and day out, even if it kills you.

I conclude here with the memory of that Michael Jackson, popping strident and soft. Michael imagining himself in prison in "They Don't Care About Us." Michael rehearsing "Human Nature" alone on stage, picturing himself in front of his audience, preparing to sing and dance not just for us, but also with us, despite our eerie absence. Michael saying, Michael singing the things we needed to hear. Or at least trying with all his heart to. - (KT)

Dispatch from Rio de Janeiro

Severo Sarduy once called the blank spaces between songs on LPs "playas" (beaches). I offer these thoughts even as I'm wedged between other things.



I went to Rio

and it was a good thing that I prepared myself with Chuck Mangione. You arrive and it has all the things you love about those cities you have lost. It is kick back and mellow gold. Rio doesn’t just meet the sea, it allows it take over.

and I never heard Akon sound so beautiful. His “Don’t Matter” rang from the hilltop of Dona Marta, a construction made from struggle and scraps and brilliant hobbit invention. I saw its youngest residents nimbly scale the steep steps with Havaianas made so small they seemed a miracle of manufacturing. The uterus gasped for air.

Dont Matter - Akon

and I came across a body rocking poem from the Museu de Arte Moderna. In the spirit of the object or, better put, the neoconcretist non-object, I’ve taken the liberty to replicate it for you here. It is by Theon Spanudis (the Turkish born and Sao Paolo raised poet) and it is taken from his “Poesias" :

tante

dis


dis tante. I can only begin to tease out some of the potential of this poem-nonobject. It is not only something that awashes us in productive melancholy, but is also a thing that offers an actual listening mode. What do I mean? Just that there is something being modeled here that allows for a way to think about musical influence and collaboration without a map or tracking devices or evidence. Note the placing of the parts of speech, the primary syllable that begins in the south and the final one lands in the north. Let's set aside the actual geographies we might assign to these syllables—from South America to Europe, Rio to New York, or even Rio to Havana--and instead leave it open as something that can generally unsettle how we understand origins and spaces of seeming disconnect. Another way to understand the intermingling between the here and there, of the unison found in fragmentation.


And I was educated by cab drivers who move their mobile conservatories of sound through the city. Through tinny speakers, I met Cassia Eller and her husky and humbling voice. Total badass. And I learned of how we lost her too early, like so many other of her vocal contemporaries from that haunted city.



I bought Eller's "O Marginal." Back in Brooklyn=deep time with her cover of Hendrix's "Hear My Train A Coming."

And I let my laptop sit on a triangle slice of guayaba paste for a few hours. This poetic accident was due to my 4:30am wake up call on the day of my LASA panel (so I could write something new--why do we do that?). I set the clock with urgent cause. I needed to gesture to some of the initial impact the city was having on my thinking; to thread a kind of homage to Rio through my words; to discursively tip my forty to the ground I was standing on. It became a thing on Patato y Totico's guaguancó version (vocals by Virgilio Marti) of Jorge Ben's "Mas Que Nada." This recording was put together at the height of the Brazilian military dictatorship in the New York City of 1968. What is it about this song written by Jorge Ben in 1963 and taken up by Cuban musicians in New York who were busy extending grassroots rumbas far away from home? The space of dis-tante here suggests the song’s passage to another place and taken up by other kinds of hands is quite literally more than nothing.

and I heard Freestyle, ok? And I felt affirmed in a sea of 18 year old girls who new all the words in a language I understand but can’t speak so good. After drinks my Portoñol gets better. Much like the ballad-turn in reggaeton, funk carioca is making other kinds of room for melody—so much so there is a slowly but surely emerging genre called “Funk Melody.” I heard a set by DJ Marlboro which grabbed me by the bodily jugular and turned me out in ways I can only come up with in sleeping life. I heard amazing Lusophone revisions of songs like Dreamgirl. And the Stevie B. mystery began to make sense. Each song bore major traces of the Final Fantasy IV soundtrack (c. 1997). I got to dance for what seemed like forever in that Power 96 traffic beat. It was very serious:

DJ Malboro - Princesa - DJ Marlboro

Which is to say: the Rio chapter in the Miami book will get written (dis tante).

While in Rio, I was always mistaken for a local—which is a beautiful thing if you get no rest from feeling extraterrestrial.

And until that book (poem) gets written and I can thank him properly....
muito obrigada y beijos a Ernesto Solis.


With a carioca-style thumbs up,
ATV

Manila Dispatch: Taxicab Confessions | SOTW 6.11

CBB has landed in Maynila and as predicted, the program has been kicked up to another level. In less than 48 hours, we've heard 4 bands (mostly at Sa Guijo), attended one conceptual art opening (Bea Camacho's "Disconnect the Dots"), witnessed a major protest against CON-ASS, a funny but appropriate redaction for "Constituent Assembly" (the only way the Philippines' constitution can be amended and something President Arroyo is trying to muster up to bust her term limits). [Above Left: Kangagi and CBB peering in at the bands at Sa Guijo; Right: Graffiti in the Sa Guijo Toilet; Left: with eLBee, Kangagi and R.Z.L. at the Bea Camacho opening, Finale Art Gallery]

With there's little time to post a deep Oh!-length mega-mix here in between extreme feeding sessions and serious debriefing with the many branches of my family, I can offer this quick glimpse at the incidental music of our cross-town adventures hopping from tricycles to taxi cabs, packed-in probinciana-style with my aunties visiting from Iloilo. [Right: 4 in the back w. Tita Mellie all the way to Divisoria, Tita Bing lucky to be in the front seat]. I'll let CBB cover the Pinoy pop and indie rock next time, but for now, enjoy the mellow stylings that have never died in Maynila, where esmooth sounds keep the city flowing, even when traffic isn't. We heard these 2 gems back to back in our epic cab ride home this afternoon -KT



And as we were caught between the moon and our part of the city...

Kimchibilly (Korea) + Urbandub (Philippines) | SOTWs 6.3.09

Some quickie sounds from the road in East Asia and Southeast Asia. First, the rumble of Kimchibilly from the Hongdae hipster 'hood in Seoul courtesy of the Rocktigers, a band whose sound brings me back home to L.A. but in a Kogi Taco Truck, post-Armed-Forces Radio kinda way. Click the pic below to hear what I mean. "Onesided Love" and "Spring Days" are my fave Seoul struttin' themes.


And fresh from landing in the Pilipinas, here's a little indie prog pop from Urbandub, purveyors of a sound from "The Giant South." Urbandub has been buzzed about on trendwatch sites in the U.S. recently after relentless touring through the Southeast Asian leisure circuit of Cebu, Manila and Singapore--a very similar path to the one my parents took when I was a wee lounge mouse. It's also the same gig circuit that has produced the likes of Journey's Arnel Pineda. And yet Urbandub offers an entirely different sonic world, with summer songs thematically suited to that oh-so-problematic travel industry, yet replete with transcendent, proggy jams and a tight rush of harmonies. Listen to their myspace playlist here.

Get a taste of the "First of Summer" now...

First Of Summer - Urbandub

When CBB touches down in the RP next week, we'll be in the presence of a true expert in Pinoy Indie rock. We're excited for late nite outings fueled by Gilbey's and pata in various forms with sistah Balance. But until then, it's time to get my Inasal on and just let it all soak in. - KT

Dispatch from Seattle | 2009 EMP Pop Music Conference

This year’s EMP wasn’t the business-as-usual, put-your-peepee-on-the-table and rumble caucus we’ve grown to love and (sometimes) resent. Just last year, I emphatically referred to it as the schlongfest slow to change. What a difference 365 days make. There are too many reasons for this year’s bright and airy fissures. I’m writing from the road, so permit me a few jetlagged and rapid-fire observations:

First and foremost Eric Weisbard’s program tweaks (large and subtle) were furrows for fresh critical moves. The adjustments included putting Nona Hendryx and Diane Warren in the conference’s pole-positions and the switching up of those who got to occupy the captains’ chairs. Bravo.

The care and craft behind the call for papers did much to recruit and amend at once. This year’s line up was especially badass: lots of smart folks saying smart things. For the most part, participants brought with them openness in both vibe and substance. One did not feel the need to enter the space of the conference defensively (ala cover your genitals!), but with a posture of relaxed joy. “We belong” felt like an implied anthem over the weekend. For whatever critiques one can make of EMP, it is an occasion to gather with fellow music nerds who love to talk about music. It is a safe house for those of us who like to drop Starship references without shame, and have non-ironic attachments to someone like Joe Walsh.

I’m curious to what others might have to say about this: is it because we are all growing older together that the tired academic/journo divide felt (refreshingly) not as thorny as usual? Did we find common cause in our distaste for evaluation forms? Was it a matter of throwing food and liquor at this thing? Drinking together never felt so reparative.

And finally, one could palpably feel the productive work behind all those years of getting mad, and getting mad publicly. For this, we thank those who dug out those early foxholes and tirelessly reiterated the call: this can be a beautiful thing.

Photo Credits for Diane Warren Event + Special Thanks to Rick Barry.

HIGHLIGHT REEL
The event I can’t stop thinking about: the public conversation between Diane Warren and Ann Powers. I know that my compatriots have much to say about this event--the shared feelings to be found in and by way of it. But I’d like to linger on the scaffolding. Ann Powers gave us not only a wonderful interview, but also a fine piece of writing. Think about the structure she gave to the thing by bookending Warren’s career retrospective between DeBarge’s “Rhythm of the Night” and the photo of Irving Berlin that hangs on her office wall. I admit to getting insta-crushes when I see ladies doing the work. We were not only presented with Ann’s moving ethos of preparation (sound clips on the ready, idiosyncratic details of an incredible oeuvre), but were also made privy to the everyday of Warren’s perfectionism. And yes, Brandy’s “Have You Ever?” moved me to tears.

When speaking of insta-crushes, we have to mention Karen Shimakawa and Licia Fiol-Matta, whose presentations (once again) gave us the occasion to work on our thinking wrinkles. One of the many things I appreciated about both their presentations was their attention to generational relationships to the same object of music, be it Enka or Lucecita Benítez. [L: Lucecita]

I’ll throw fuel to the accusations of nepotism given all the friends I’m lucky to have in this particular circus. Time constraints prevent me from being properly apologetic. So I begin with some shameless tooting of my curatorial horn by shouting out the glorious musings heard from the “Background Noise” panel. Talk about stand and deliver! Patty Ahn, Greg Londe, Chelsea Adewumni, Judith Casselberry and Van Truong took their time and did it right. Another grand assembly: “Take Back the Nightclub.” In their own unique ways, Karen Tongson and Josh Kun wove some stunning filigree between their archival objects. Inna Arzumanova killed with her bits on interracial teen dance floors. And does it get any better than Christine Bacareza Balance’s spin on assolationism? Her turntablist credo allowed her to put together a particularly tight and right piece of writing. And finally, I was lucky to wander in on David Grubbs’s, “I am a Recording. I Don’t Age,” a lovely treatise on growing old in the absent-presence of a beloved recorded object gone missing. – (ATV)

***************

I. “Because You Loved Me”
Most of my time lately has been spent writing alone and wrestling with intellectual demons in isolation, which is not to be confused with the collective virtuosity of “assolationism”—a term all about dance, music, sex and romance spit to life one night by sister CBB while we were sipping wine with some fierce Asian ladies on Rodney Drive (including Party Pumper, la Kang, and eLBee).

One of the things that PopCon made possible for me this time—made possible from the very beginning, actually—is an occasion to get together with the sisterhood of the traveling hot pants to think, eat, talk, work and feel loved. Because we each presented on different panels this time, I also had a chance to watch the ladies from the audience as they carried on that spirit of “assolationism”—the precarious spectacle of solo booty breakdowns weaving in and out of ecstatic group choreographies. Through these exogamous moments I was inspired anew by their words and work: from ATV’s daring and deep critique of “Lonely Planet liberalism” couched in a tender encounter with a Regaetton disc she never heard, to CBB’s affective, alternative genealogy of hip-hop, Filipino dance, and the aesthetic and spiritual sustenance of the crew, or barkada. There in the company of my barkada, watching them work and work it out, I was reminded that I am never truly alone.

II. “I Get Weak”
So much good stuff at this year’s PopCon, but I have to give a special nod to the hard-hitting ladies who ruled the keynotes. The weekend kicked off with a surprisingly sensitive, lo-fi and intimate event featuring Nona Hendryx, an artist whose presence looms so large, but whose quieter side was lovingly coaxed from her by Daphne Brooks and Sonnet Retman. [L: iPhone audience snapshot of Daphne and Sonnet introducing Nona]

As you’ve probably noticed by now (ATV set this up in her “sizzle reel” of the weekend’s events), the soundtrack for my PopCon is, was, and forever will be scored by Diane Warren. Sure, timeless Top Pop doesn’t hit the spot for everyone, even though it leaves me completely prone. But hearing Warren relinquish her own hardened cynicisms to her well-wrought anthems of everyday passion, and seeing her close her eyes to listen again to the work from within, yet also so far outside of her…well…I got weak. Thanks so much to Judith Casselberry for enduring the group sing in the back row, and of course, to Ann Powers for letting Diane Warren be Diane Warren: funny, crass, arrogant, wise, down to business, down to earth.

III. “Give a Little Love”
- To the grad students who hit their moves hard all weekend long, not only holding their own, but making it their own: Greg Londe, Chelsea Adewumni, Van Truong and Patty Ahn (on “Background Noise” anchored by the amazing Judith Casselberry, and ATV), as well as Inna Arzumanova who took back the nightclub with Josh Kun and me.

- To the purveyors of Perreo and beyond at the Regaetton Roundtable, especially the 2 of the 3 editors of the volume who were present, Wayne Marshall and Raquel Rivera, for pushing us to keep moving, hustling, and thinking about what this music can mean in intimate and global hemispheres.

- To the formidable trio of Sarah Dougher, Ann Powers and Daphne Carr who ran the feminist working group, “Dance This Mess Around” on Friday afternoon. Sadly I had to take off before the groups coalesced, left to admire from afar, as I always have, the fierce work these ladies do everyday.

- To the Dance Dance revolutionaries of “Step Up 2 the Screen” (CBB with Ann Shaffer, Priscilla Peña Ovalle, and Michelle Habell-Pallán moderating), keeping the dancing body salient and strong in the conference mix. "What a Feeling" indeed.

- To the ladies whom ATV has rightly dubbed “insta-crush worthy”: Licia Fiol-Matta and Karen Shimakawa of “Nation and Pop Takeover” (moderated by Josh Kun). I now carry the refrains of Lucecita in my heart, and can’t wait to experience firsthand the delicious schlock of Enka when I hit Tokyo in a few short weeks.


- To the elegant, eloquent faggotry of Drew Daniel and Tavia Nyong’o on “How Low Can a Punk Get.” Thanks for being unafraid to bring the heavy, queer theoretical artillery with you to this shindig.

- To the boys who make this lesbian fundamentalist feel a little less separatist with each passing day: Ned Raggett, who was a wonderful presence at all our panels, and at our party. Special thanks for the iPhone pic with Diane! Elijah Wald, whom I had the pleasure of chatting with several times beyond the Gehry-sculpted boundaries of EMP | SFM. Eric Weisbard for bringing us all together, always and forever. And last, but certainly not least, to Josh Kun for never “trickin’” ‘cause he’s always got it...

IV. “I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing”
But every year I have to, because there’s just too much great stuff—and so much of it on Sunday morning this year (Female Punk! Queer Hip Hop and Regaetton! Liminal Grooves!). My biggest regret by far this year, though, is missing Jason King’s convo with the great Asha Puthli.

Even obsessive Virgos need a break, and I needed a quiet moment to recover and regroup with my beloved Kangagi during a brief, lesbionic getaway to the Hothouse Women’s Spa in Capitol Hill.

On a personal note: many thanks to the good folks at the University of Washington's Simpson Center for the Humanities and their working groups (Queer Worlds, dis-Orienting Asian American Studies, The Race/Knowledge project) for bringing me to campus and keeping me in Seattle a few extra days after PopCon. A very special thank you to Prof. Gillian Harkins, Shelley Halstead and their furry brood, for Scotch and sympathy on their sunny porch. – (KT)

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Following up on ATV’s nepotistic inclinations and KT’s sha booya roll call, I would like to give a shout out to the brave and brilliant:

Greg Londe and Chelsea Adewunmi, for offering up the most musical of presentations in remixed recant on black back-up singers;

Judith Casselberry, for “moving” background from a staging concept to biography and illuminating the church we feel in Grace Jones’ performances. A special shout out for being entertained by our back row, lighter-raising sing-a-long antics during the Diane Warren keynote on Friday night.

Patty Ahn, for the pleasure of revisiting the utopic potential of the Fly Girls and In Living Color as well as animating a few hard-hitting academics in the back row.

Wayne Marshall, Raquel Rivera, and Alex Vazquez, for bringing Reggaeton out of the shadows of being “merely a fad” and into the overlapping spotlights and bullhorns of Caribbean popular culture. A special shout out for constantly having to get perreo with the repetitive chorus and droning beats of that old power/agency vs. women’s bodies routine

Josh Kun, for blasting wry and dirty jokes over the loud speakers at 9AM, giving us bawdy that’s so much smarter than Beyonce ever could.

Karen Tongson, for not only perfecting the aural cue of voiceover-as-closing-montage but, also, for bringing out the O.C. freaks and geeks and re-igniting the possibilities of a little archive fever.

Licia Fiol-Matta, for putting the sexy back into “seria” and sharing with us Lucecita-as-fashion-icon.

Karen Shimakawa, for, as always, gracefully keeping it real while still being speculative and funny.

And, finally, to Ann Powers and Diane Warren, for putting the POP back into Pop Music conference and for writing some of the most anthemic selections on the Oh! iPod playlist: “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now”; “Rhythm of the Night”; “For You I Will”; “If I Could Turn Back Time”; “Love Will Lead You Back”; and “How Do I Live Without You.” Her songs glitter across the various locations we occupy, populating our collective soundscapes—from suburban (read teenage) desires to urban tribal karaoke sessions, from Philippine provincial roadsides to first and last dances at weddings, gay clubs, and bars. A big kudos to two sisters who work hard for their money –the work shows and it inspires. – (CBB)



CONFERENCE AND POST-CONFERENCE SOUNDTRACK

ATV PLAYLIST:
Many thanks to Patty Ahn for putting the sped-up traffic beats from my I-95 past back into my universe by way of KP and Envyi’s “Shorty Swing My Way.” This beat was picked up at the post Oh! Party where I got to relive some 1995 house glory days (though this go ‘round felt more Ft. Lauderdale then Miami).



Post conference soundtrack: Tuned into the act of songwriting, I am currently going through much of Diane Warren’s catalogue, especially her work with Starship and Ace of Bass and Heart ala “Who Will You Run To?” She also made me go back and rethink Akon. Oddly, but perhaps not accidentally, Guns N’ Roses Appetite for Destruction has also called out for some renewed love. This was no doubt inspired by the sounds of “Paradise City” straining through the rental car speakers during the long car ride to the final night party. Note to Eric: my one suggestion for next year would be to have the party somewhere that doesn’t require so much driving. I’ve also been harboring a little bit of a thing for Pink Floyd’s “Have a Cigar.” But there’s a future post I’m working out on this song that has to do with feelings of overexposure.

KT PLAYLIST:
Like ATV, I too have let our encounter with Diane Warren draw me into a reflective mood about songwriting and the gestures both big and small that stunning songcraft engenders. Beyond listening repeatedly and continuing to be surprised by Diane Warren’s massive oeuvre, I’ve tuned back into the “Great American Songbook,” notably works by Warren’s hero, Irving Berlin, like “How Deep is the Ocean,” “Cheek to Cheek,” “Let’s Face the Music and Dance” (Anita O’Day’s version is one of my faves), and the song that I always imagined as Berlin’s proto-Warren gem of sentimental object-relations, “What’ll I Do?”

Whatll I do - Julie London

Further inspired by CBB’s homage to Pinoy bodies playing other shades of brown and yellow on stage and screen, and Josh Kun’s stunning archive of the bawdy, blue Jewish ladies of Palm Beach, I also spent downtime in Seattle listening to songs from musicals. Add to this confluence a lovely, if all too brief visit with one of my best high-school gal pals, Rebecca Meneses (who played Anita in West Side Story, Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady, Marian Paroo in The Music Man, etc, etc, etc.), and you get a soundtrack that sounds a lot like this:

“America” and “A Boy Like That” from West Side Story
“If A Girl Isn’t Pretty” from Funny Girl
“It Only Takes a Moment” from Hello, Dolly!
“A Little Fall of Rain” from Les Miserables

And you also get this video of Lea Salonga auditioning for the role of “Kim” in Miss Saigon, spin-cycling together all my not-so-secret Broadway dirty laundry of Oriental sentiment, Star Search fantasies and naive chutzpah:



CBB PLAYLIST:
Thanks to Daphne Brooks, I have actually been on a black girl rock kick - intrigued and inspired by the tight, jerky dance moves of Janelle Monae that accompany her musical theater-trained vocal stunts. Not to mention, she got me wanting a pair of saddle shoes again and Pronto! Here's a slightly Unplugged rendition of her "Violet Stars Slightly Hunting":



And, thrown back a bit to the 1980s thanks to the subtitle of this year's conference as well as another phenomenal Ann Powers public conversation with Wendy & Lisa, the following Prince jams have been in heavy rotation on my iPod and in my mind. Not the usual Top 40-worthy, "A Side" fare from the Purple One, these songs' upbeat, new wave rhythms remind me of being sandwiched in between my Oh! sisters on our respective workout machines in the tight spaces of a hotel gym - perfectly pop-py, allowing for many a riff off of Solid Gold dance moves:

I Could Never Take The Place Of Your Man ( LP Version) - Prince

When You Were Mine (LP Version) - Prince


LIFE LESSONS LEARNED
-Do the research and make many reservations before you go
-Don’t accept an unfiltered Camel under any circumstances
-If you build it, the ones you love will come
-Even 20 minutes on a treadmill can make things right
- A schwitz in time saves nine. But never assume the bottle of lotion you find in the spa locker room is communal property. Or even lotion. Also, don’t forget to bring hair product.
-Stock up on fresh and dried fruits and try to eat as much kale and greens as possible during times of irregularity – keeps the pipes clean!
-Looking fierce often equals feeling fierce (plus it’s always best to be prepared for those photo ops)
-Take it low and slow the first and last nights so you can hit it hard in the middle.
-Late night snacks and water can save your life. Always keep a Salumi meat and cheese platter stashed in the hotel fridge for the after- after-after-party.
-Never leave roasted cauliflower in an enclosed car –unless you like the smell of dirty ass.
- Pigs in a Blanket, Deviled Eggs and a giant Amy Sedaris-inspired cheeseball guarantee a good time.
-Always have dancing at a closing night party (especially at a conference with the word “DANCE” in the title): enough talking, it’s time to move!

WHY WE HEART SEATTLE
1. The flower arrangements at Pike’s Market = the stuff of philosophy
2. The Ravioli di tapinambur al al burro e salvia con pignoli at Cucina Spinasse.
3. Thanks to our waitress at Spinasse for recommending the Hothouse Women’s Spa. Fantastic when it’s empty, and clean enough for a Virgo to love.
4. The simple salami and mozzarella sandwich at Salumi (methinks there’s crack in that olive oil spread). Their Sopresata sandwiches save lives.
5. Bar tabs are thankfully cheap.
6. Oprah is right about Ezell’s Fried Chicken

See You in Seattle | EMP Pop Con 2009

We're all in deep prep mode for our early morning departures to the Emerald City for this year's Experience Music Project Popular Music Conference. PopCon is a special place for us, since it was really the event that brought us all together for some deep, dishy hang time, despite having crossed paths here and there in more academic settings.

And though each of us has our own anxieties about travel--whether or not there will be sufficient fiber intake, whether or not we can squeeze in a few workouts to counteract the decadence, whether or not we have enough product to keep our variously textured hair-'dos from frizzing in the moist Pacific Northwest air--we can't wait to see all the friends we've made at PopCon through the years (a la Kenny Rogers). And of course, we always look forward to meeting more friends and finding inspiration.

As always, big thanks to Eric Weisbard for putting it all together once again with this year's stellar programming committee: Garnette Cadogan, Kyra Gaunt (Baruch College), David Grubbs (Brooklyn College), Margie Maynard (EMP|SFM), Michele Myers (KEXP), Diane Pecknold (University of Louisville), Ann Powers (Los Angeles Times), Sonnet Retman (University of Washington), Carlo Rotella (Boston College), Carl Wilson (The Globe and Mail), and of course, our own Alexandra Vazquez (Princeton | Oh! Industry).


Keep up with our shenanigans on Twitter (mobile reception permitting): http://twitter.com/ohindustry
We promise, though, not to compromise textiquette and our own efforts at having fun for the sake of a good tweet.

We leave you tonite with a little amuse-bouche from one of this year's PopCon keynotes, Nona Hendryx:

In Memoriam | Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick, 1950-2009

Words are too often insufficient. And yet there is something about Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick's words that have always felt like everything: like a poem being written, like desire finding a new language, like reading repaired.

We each had various relationships with Sedgwick and her work. Some of us were fortunate enough to meet and study with her. Others of us admired her from afar through the pages of books, or from conference audiences. All of us were blessed to benefit spiritually from what she wrought, not just what she wrote--especially through our many mentors and friends who flourished in her care, and in turn nurtured our languages of desire, our faith in an intellectual universe in which one can lead with generosity rather than paranoia.

In the preface to Between Men she reflects about "the young author of the book" and the intimate configurations she, and other queers, improvise through shared provincial desires and textual imaginaries. This incidental passage, at first glance, seems like an homage to the metropolitan, and yet becomes a sweet tribute to the provincial within. It continues to be a keynote, a touchstone for what we do or at least dream of doing here and beyond. We echo those words below with loss in our hearts, and share them with each of you who, in your own way, belong in "the site of that second and belated life, those newly constituted and denaturalized ‘families.’"

And finally, we seek solace in the elegant heartsong of Fred Astaire, whispering this truth in our goodbye: "The way you changed my life...they can't take that away from me." - (ALOTR)

“That there was something (in this sense) irrepressibly provincial about the young author of this book is manifest. But will it make sense if I describe that provinciality not as a measure of her distance from the scenes of gay male creativity, whose utopian invocation tacitly motivates the book, but also a ground of her passionate, queer, and fairly uncanny identification with it? The more than Balzacian founding narrative of a certain modern identity for Euro-American gay men, after all, vibrates along a chord that stretches from provincial origins to metropolitan destinies. As each individual story begins in the isolation of queer childhood, we must compulsorily and excruciatingly misrecognize ourselves in the available mirror of the atomized, procreative, so-called heterosexual pre-or-ex-urban nuclear family of origin, whose bruisingly inappropriate interpellations may wound us–those of us lucky enough to survive them–into life, life of a different kind. The site of that second and belated life, those newly constituted and denaturalized ‘families,’ those tardy, wondering chances at transformed and transforming self-and other-recognition, is the metropolis. But a metropolis continually recruited and reconstituted by having folded into it the incredulous energies of the provincial. Or–I might better say–the provincial energies of incredulity itself” (ix).

They Can't Take That Away...



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P.S. We've used the video embed instead of just an MP3, because IMEEM continues to have an Amazon.com search button on its MP3 function. In protest of Amazon's homophobic policies, we will limit our use of its advertising partners on this site.

Monday Night Live | Wendy & Lisa at USC 3/30

Pry yourselves away from Gossip Girl for just one evening. Or at least watch it on DVR delay. Previously known as Prince's sexy sirens, Wendy & Lisa have since become major players in the music biz, scoring such shows as Heroes (another Monday night fave), and Showtime's Edie Falco vehicle, Nurse Jackie.

Join the duo for a serious girl power conversation about the business of making music, past and present, with one of our pop crit heroines, Ann Powers of the L.A. Times. The event will be hosted at USC's Popular Music Project, where Powers is a 2008-09 Artist in Residence.

The event is scheduled from 7pm-8:30pm at USC's Annenberg School for Communication, Room 207. 3502 Watt Way, Los Angeles, CA. While the evening is free and open to the public, you must RSVP to attend: enter@usc.edu. More details here. In the meantime, get your "Waterfall" on in anticipation...


Waterfall - Wendy & Lisa

¡Special Event! La Lupe: Queen of Latin Soul 3/26

Calling all Tri-Staters:

Join us on Thursday,

March 26 at 4:30pm for a special screening of Ela Troyano's acclaimed documentary
La Lupe: Queen of Latin Soul.
Thursday, March 26 at 4:30pm
Friend Center Auditorium 101 • Princeton University
Q&A session with the director to follow the screening
Hosted by Alexandra Vazquez
Sponsored by Princeton's Center for African American Studies
This event is free and open to the public
For driving directions click here.

La Lupe: Queen of Latin Soul explores the life and work of Lupe “La Lupe” Yoli, the Cuban musician and vocalist also known as Latin America’s first performance artist. The movie, filmed in various locations in Havana, New York, Miami and San Juan, includes interviews and footage that illuminates her inimitable career. The film is a vibrant portrait of an unforgettable artist who dared to perform and live her life on her own terms.

Ela Troyano is a Cuban-born director writer and producer. Her films include her feature debut Latin Boys Go To Hell and the award winning Carmelita Tropicana. Troyano also directed the dramatic action television series Reyes y Rey and the sitcom Angeles for Telemundo/Sony (1998-99). Her theatrical work includes the critically acclaimed A to B by Ricardo Bracho Off-Broadway at INTAR (2002). In December 2007 she collaborated with Carmelita Tropicana on “Bring It On You Tube” to be presented at INTAR.

Dress to impress,
ATV