* “And so the story progressed to where the man indeed would find women, poetry and truth, and I thought to myself, you dumb son of a bit**, you deserve all three.”
I just saw the most bizarre news story today, and I’m sure you did too: that Kellyanne Conway fabricating an account of a massacre in Bowling Green, Kentucky. As I’m sure you know, massacres are not typically hard things to disprove. They’re usually associated with an allotted place within the spatial realm of the universe (Columbine, Oklahoma City, et. al.), and so offer a wealth of immediately identifiable witness candidates more than able to corroborate or negate said allegation.
And so we progress, toting the notion of “truth” in our pocket to the nearest emergency veterinarian.
One thing is for sure, apropos of how it was a “massacre” story she made up and not like one about curing AIDS, or ending the racial skirmish we have in our country, and this is something I recently wrote down in my book for reference: “People’s conceptions of entertainment quality in this country are directly fed by images and ideas of conflict and violence.” For proof you can look at how they framed Meryl Streep’s recent speech at the Golden Globes: they saw it necessary to say that she “took down Trump without even mentioning his name.” Well, as we all know, she didn’t actually “take him down,” as he is still the functioning president, unless of course that as well is some “alternative fact.” This is grotesque language to me: “took down.” It proves to me that people require a storyline of antipathetic conflict, to an extent, for generation of interest. It’s not enough that Streep delivered a threaded discourse rife with rich, humanistic compassion, intending to harm nobody (a speech in which, as the keen observer will note, one Mr. Vince Vaughn was most enrapt).
The PJ Harvey links for “The End” are more indication of people’s need for binary notions of defeat, and related things. And it’s sad, too, because Uh Huh Her SHOULD be an important album, even in the absolute large-scale scope of music, right there with the first three Eminem albums, and the two Wilco albums of the early 20th century.
The pitchfork writer quips that once you hear that woodwind ballad (“The End”), and the one-minute session of sea gull sounds (“Sea Gulls”), it becomes apparent that Harvey is not making a rock album, so he says. And I agree. But is it also something deeper — is she ENDING rock albums as we consider them, formulating their veritable demise right before our ears by way of mimicry, and ensuing abandonment, or whatever.
Uh Huh Her is an EXPERIENCE to me, like cinema, like Broadway theater. But it’s a MUSICAL experience. And for some reason, it really bothers me that the only youtube video available is one apparently offering a cartoon depiction of her like stomping on her ex-boyfriend or something (the album is a breakup album). And anyone who says these things are easily surmountable has apparently never attempted to use the program iMovie.