The Many Jobs of Monsoon: Volume One
A blast from the past, my friends, as promised:
The Many Jobs of Monsoon Forecast: Volume One
Friday, 20 October 2006
It may surprise you to learn that I haven’t always been a world-class English teacher and a half-classed meteorologist. In fact, when I got my first job in 1987 as a student swimming instructor and lifeguard at Norristown Area High School, I didn’t even have much of an inkling that I was going to get into education. (I wanted to be a Sports Information Director, a sportswriter, or a music journalist at that point, I believe.) From my days as a budding Mitch Buchannon to the present moment, I have had no fewer than 20 different gigs, by my estimation: temp jobs, long-term jobs, under-the-table jobs, deadeningly boring jobs, jobs that put me in undue peril, putrid-smelling jobs, mindless jobs, annoying jobs, aggravating jobs, infuriating jobs, humiliating jobs, jobs that led to other jobs, jobs that led nowhere, jobs that lasted one day, jobs that lasted for years. And so, in the first four-part Monsoon forecast, I’m going to chronicle some of the most memorable jobs I have held in the past 15 years or so.
I spent a couple of weeks in the summer of 1989 working at the concession stands in the Valley Forge Convention Center, but the only remarkable aspect of that job is that I learned more about the inadequate storage of mayonnaise-glopped sandwiches and other perishable foodstuffs than I really wanted to. I also learned that hot dogs, when left on those little roller grill things, puff up into grotesquely deformed once-wieners, then char and deflate pathetically until someone comes, purchases the worn-out frank, and shoves it obliviously into his or her pie-hole. And finally, I learned about “tipping the register”—taking a portion of the patron’s money and pocketing it for yourself, ringing up the sale at a lower price—and watched it accomplished with astounding flair, slyness, and frequency; I never tried it, probably more because I feared I would botch the move and get caught rather than some sort of moral indignation at the wrongness of it all.
The first job I held of particular note—the one that afforded me a long-term immersion in the seedy underbelly of discount retailing—was at TJ Maxx. Yes, I was a sales associate, complete with ID badge and fashionable grey vest, part time in the early 1990s. The two functions I served at this emporium of overpriced doodads, irregular clothing, and remaindered goods involved the dressing rooms and the returns desk.
The dressing rooms gig was easy; thankfully, it did not involve actually monitoring the store’s patrons as they stuffed themselves into skew-legged slacks, pen-stained blouses, and other assorted shapeless once-garments. My job was to collect these remnants, coax them back onto hangers, and return them to their racks around the store. As I worked, I would be bombarded by an endless loop of what seemed to be the same 20 or 30 songs, over and over, oh my god it’s that same song again and I was singing along without even realizing it and can I please get the hell out of here before I lose it…
The ones that stand out as having been particularly prominent on the MaxxRadio playlist were “Every Kind of People” by Robert Palmer and “Will You Marry Me?” by Paula Abdul, which—besides having one of the more annoying melodies in musical history—boasts lyrics that are so vapid and slapdash that they should only guarantee a negative response to the title’s query: “Think of love as wings / Not a ball and chain / And your fear of things / Unnecessary / … / Will you marry me boy?”
But the returns counter was where the real action was. As bewildered as I was at the substandard dreck that people would buy in great quantities every day, I was even more astonished at the regulars who would serially return the rubbish to the store. And despite how liberal the Maxx-for-the-Minimum’s return policy was, the return process was anything but streamlined. In fact, it was awful. It entailed a tagging gun, a red pen, filling out forms in triplicate, verification of ID, and inevitably, a foul-tempered customer who was just itching to scurry back onto the sales floor to buy more soon-to-be-returned merchandise. It was a disagreeable and miserable place.
I recall that around the time of my employment, there was a dispute over the tagline used in their advertising campaigns during my tenure at The House of Maxx. The long-standing “Get the Maxx for the Minimum” was replaced briefly with “Never the Same Place Twice!” It soon became clear, however, that people understood the slogan differently from how it had been intended. The ad execs had been trying to convey the idea that customers will find something new and exciting every time they report to the shopping center. But many customers began to focus on the fact that when they tried to find their favorite tank tops or deelasticized briefs, they were seldom in the same place twice—in other words, that the store’s layout was so disorganized and chaotic that it was impossible to locate a particular item with any regularity. The slogan was changed back to “The Maxx for the Minimum,” which was augmented, of course, by the stirring jingle: “Do-do-do-do Do-do-do-do T-J Maxx!” The latest tagline, “You should go,” shows such an utter lack of ingenuity that I can scarcely be expected to comment on it.
Finally, friends, I realize that many good people shop at TJ Maxx stores, and feel strongly about their allegiance to the quality and bargains to be had there. It has long been known that there are “skanky” TJ Maxx stores, and there are “slightly nicer” TJ Maxx stores. The TJ Maxx of which I am an alumnus—the one in the Northtowne Plaza in East Norriton, PA—is unequivocally of the skanky breed. The one you shop at is undoubtedly a fine, fine store.
My subsequent summers home from college were filled with some notable employment adventures as well. I worked as an assistant to a reference librarian at the Montgomery County-Norristown Public Library one summer, becoming a whiz at now-obsolete technologies such as microfilm and fiche, rocking some mad reshelving, and just basically taking the whole Dewey Decimal system to another level.
I also landed a paid internship at The Times Herald , Norristown’s hometown rag, where I spent the majority of my time writing obituaries and editing other reporters’ articles. (Can you imagine how seasoned, longtime reporters felt about having a 20-year-old kid take a red pen to their drafts? Let’s just say I wasn’t exactly invited out bowling with the guys on the weekends.) I went out “in the field” and got to interview Tom Burgoyne, the Phillie Phanatic, in a hard-hitting feature about the temperature inside his costume and his pre-performance routines. I canvassed the neighborhood on a 99-degree day and actually asked people what they thought of the heat. And then wrote down what they said. And then wrote an article about it that ran on the front page. I also did a Pulitzer-nominated piece on bicycle helmets that began: “They’re big. They’re goofy-looking. And they could save your life.”
But there were more substantive journalistic opportunities. I covered a speech by Grey Panthers founder Maggie Kuhn, who granted an interview afterward. I got to cover my high school’s graduation just three years after having matriculated: “Yesterday’s commencement at Norristown Area High School was a celebration of achievement, an outpouring of appreciation and the inauguration of a bold step into an uncertain future.”
And I fought with my editors to write—and have published in full—a 1000-word feature on the disgracefully unkempt Treemount Cemetery near where I grew up.
Besides being the final resting place of many ordinary Norristonians, at Treemount are interred the remains of some of the region’s poor African American citizens, including many veterans of the Civil War’s colored regiments, among them members of the Massachusetts 54th, the subject of the film Glory . It remains one of the pieces of my writing I’m proudest of, and if you’ll indulge me, I’ll share an excerpt: “To the left, ivy and dead trees strangle the markers, dragging them nearly out of sight. All around the cemetery monuments are tilted, knocked over, cracked and grown over; and visitors will more often than not have difficulty discerning the words engraved on the heavily weathered stones. And to venture past the mowed grass and into the waist-high, overgrown weeds is to be horrified at the scores of tombs barely visible, damaged and almost completely obscured, symbols of lost respect and a neglected legacy.”
Monsoon Emerges from Summer Hiatus!
Hello, my friends!
It’s your old pal Monsoon, emerging from my summer hiatus to send some warm greetings out to you all. The summer has been … well, how really can one sum it up succinctly? It’s had its ups (Megan’s baby shower, Marina’s surprise party, sojourns with the wife, etc.) and downs (many of you know my summer began with a professional situation that caused—and still causes—me deep disillusionment). I’ve been watching a bit of reality television (no, not the moronic likes of “Big Brother” and “America’s Got Talent”—the latter irredeemable by the Hoff’s presence). My preference is for shows like “Intervention” on A&E, “Cash in the Attic” and “How Clean is Your House” on BBC America, and I’ve become absolutely addicted to “It Takes a Thief” on the Discovery Channel.
(A quick aside: if you’ve ever seen that show and enjoyed it, you’ve got to see this compendium of outtakes from season two , which I found on YouTube. Fair warning: it’s rife with mature language and sophomoric humor.)
I also have to confess that I watched the final two episodes of “A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila,” and I have literally felt dirty ever since. (If you haven’t seen this show, it’s an MTV production involving the impossibly foul bisexual former stripper and all-around überskank Tila Tequila, who puts sixteen lesbians and straight men through tasteless stunts and competitions to vie for a “shot at love” with her. She also pretty much has sexual contact with all of them; as a result more appropriate titles would be “A Shot at Chlamydia” or “A Shot for that VD” or the more succinct “Ick.” Anyway, it’s not pretty.)
And finally, I think my new favorite show is “The Soup” with Joel McHale, airing Friday nights at 10pm on E! It’s a snarky look at the week’s best moments in reality TV, talk shows, and pop culture over all. Here’s a clip that I enjoy for two reasons: it’s funny, and it ridicules the dopey, journalistically obtuse Ann Curry of “The Today Show.”
Took in some flicks at my new favorite theater, Penn Cinema in Lititz, which I wrote about in the spring. Most impressive was Journey to the Center of the Earth in digital 3D. Visually stunning, and a highly entertaining movie…
Oh! And we got a new computer--one that actually, you know, does things. Our previous, nine-year-old Gateway had dialup service and took seventeen hours to load one webpage (perhaps you forgot my tendency for hyperbole; and perhaps I am actually not exaggerating all that much, sadly). Our new HP laptop with D&E Jazzd service is a sleek and multitalented machine.
Anyways, to celebrate a fine summer thus far, and to reorient you all into the world of Monsoon, I thought I’d spend the next couple of weeks posting an old favorite of mine from before I started the blog: The Many Jobs of Monsoon from the autumn of 2006. This five-volume opus is—as the title suggests—a compendium of my most memorable, triumphant, cringeworthy, and downright scarring employment experiences, roughly from the late 1980s to the early 2000s.
I’ll also throw a weather report or two in there, as some of you have been complaining vociferously of my lack of forecasting activity over the past month or so.
Enjoy—and as always, I welcome your comments!
Monsoon's Weather Update for Thursday, 5 June 2008
My friends,
I’ve decided to try something a bit new for this forecast: I’ve included a WeatherTable and a standard, day-by-day weather narrative. You’ll enjoy the coming week or so if you like things hot and sticky…
Thu 6/5 - Mainly cloudy with some breaks of sunshine. Temperatures will be fairly moderate, but humidity will make it feel a bit warmer than it is. Look for a stray thunderstorm or two late in the afternoon. High 79, low 64.
Fri 6/6 - Plenty of sunshine, somewhat warm and quite humid. High 86, low 65.
Sat 6/7 - Partly to mostly sunny, hot and humid. High 94, low 69.
Sun 6/8 - Partly cloudy and continued very humid with near-record heat; look for a shower or thunderstorm in the late afternoon or early evening. High 96, low 71.
Mon 6/9 - Partly cloudy and hot with humidity dropping a bit, but the heat wave continues. High 93, low 70.
Tue 6/10 - Sun mixing with clouds. High 89, low 64.
Wed 6/11 - Sunny and clear; moderating temperatures. High 83, low 58.
Thu 6/12 - Partly to mostly cloudy with a slight chance of rain in the evening. High 78, low 57.
Fri 6/13 - Partly cloudy and warmer. High 89, low 63.
Sat 6/14 - Partly sunny and warmish. High 87, low 65.
Sun 6/15 - Sunny to begin with, then turning cloudy and rainy late. High 84, low 67.
Mon 6/16 - Sunny, clear, and pleasant. High 80, low 55.
Tue 6/17 - Sunny, clear, and lovely. High 81, low 58.
Beyond - Weather will be more appropriate for mid-June: highs in the mid 70s to near 80; lows in the upper 50s to low 60s. By the end of June, look for the season’s next heat wave (a prolonged period of excessively hot and abnormally humid days; the guidelines for usage of this term vary, but typically we look for heat indices above 90 for at least three consecutive days).
Monsoon's Weather Update for Wednesday, 28 May 2008
The end is mercifully in sight, and here’s a weather update, my friends, to get you thinking about your summer plans…enjoy!
The weather :
Weather narrative: Tonight will be the chilliest night in the foreseeable future with lows dipping into the mid 40s. By week’s end, temperatures warm into perhaps the low 80s with some spikes in humidity. Right now both Mifflin’s graduation (6/2) and Muhlenberg’s (6/4) look rain-free, with the latter potentially warmer. (Both are indoors at the Sovereign Center, I’m just thinking about conditions coming and going.)
Pleasant conditions will persist into the following weekend, which will usher in very warm temperatures reaching into the upper 80s and perhaps even hitting 90 sometime around 6/8 or 6/9.
Beyond the forecast: A cold front comes through right around the 10th, cooling high temperatures into the low 70s and dropping plenty of rain.
Monsoon's Penn Cinema Review
Over the holiday weekend, Mrs. Monsoon and I took in the new film Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. It was marvelously entertaining, with real suspense, charm, and breathtaking visual treats. There are minor quibbles I have with the film—two great actors, Cate Blanchett and John Hurt, were utterly wasted in one-dimensional roles; the obnoxiously named Shia LaBeouf gave a bland performance; the film marked the unwelcome return of caricaturish Soviet stereotypes; the plot of every Indiana Jones film is based in paternalism, colonialism, and sometimes downright racism.
But honestly, all of this is beside the point in a very real sense: we go to see an Indiana Jones film to lose ourselves in the adventure, the wit, and (for those of us who remember going to see the original installment in the series multiple times when we were in elementary school) the nostalgia of the experience. We don’t go to interrogate its perspective and pick apart its shortcomings. It’s a thrill ride that, despite its flaws, is not to be missed.
Enough about the film, though—what I really want to tell you about is the venue where we saw it. Rather than heading to one of the three theaters in the Reading area showing Crystal Skull, we ventured south to my new favorite movie theater, Penn Cinema in Lititz. (It’s in Neffsville, technically, I believe, but whatev.)
Penn Cinema is a ten-screen theater that opened in December 2006 after a feverish six months of construction, plopped in what seems to be the middle of a field on Airport Road. (Construction is underway to add four screens by July of this year.)
Catching a flick at Penn Cinema is a delightfully gratifying experience. (First of all, there is a dramatically lower danger of either Mrs. Monsoon or me running into one of our students either working there or attending a film, as can be a hazard at the Berks theaters; the teenagers there are from Warwick and Ephrata school districts, primarily.)
The theater is generally not that crowded, at least during the matinee hours when I tend to visit the theater. It has a large parking lot, clean facilities—there are trash receptacles on the way out of each screening room, stylishly concealed—and lovely, spacious restrooms whose fixtures are all automated to ensure minimal contact with the germs emitted by your fellow theater-goers. The food is just fine, with about-average prices, and local favorites are included in the offerings, lending the establishment a real sense of place. (Speaking of which, there's a charming touch in the theater's lobby: three clocks situated adjacent to one another all display local times in the manner of newsroom clocks with times in New York, London, Moscow, etc.)
The screening rooms themselves are top-notch, and some films are digitally projected. All theaters have stadium seating with extremely comfortable, high-backed seats and movable armrests; the use of curved screens ensures that every seat in the house will enjoy a pleasing view.
Ticket prices are very reasonable when compared with movie houses in the Berks region: evening shows are $9.00 and matinees are $6.50; Cinema Center Fairgrounds Square is $9.25 and $6.25, and Carmike Wyomissing is $9.50 and $6.75.
The real draw to Penn Cinema for me is the fact that many of the annoyances of modern filmgoing are (quite deliberately, it would seem) absented from the experience.
First, I don’t know if we’ve just gotten lucky the few times we have been to Penn Cinema, but distractions like cell phone usage, kicking chairs, crinkling bags, general tomfoolery, and the always-popular inane conversations—“What did he say?”; “Now who is that guy?”; “Hey! Isn’t that the girl who was in that other movie? No, not her, the other one…”—are gloriously absent (or at least minimally present) here.
And the moviegoer is not forced to sit through thunderous commercials for Coca-Cola, the US military, or the like, played at deafening volumes, which go on (pun intended) ad infinitum at other theaters. Allow me to share the strongly-worded pissy-pants letter I sent last year to Carmike Cinemas regarding this very issue, along with a portion of the response I received from a Carmike district manager soon thereafter.
My snotty letter:
On Saturday, December 8th, my wife and I went to the Carmike Cinema in Wyomissing, PA to see the film American Gangster (the 7:10 showing). Once the theater went semi-dark, indicating previews were about to begin, we sat through no fewer than eight commercials for various products, including a full-length music video by the band 3 Doors Down played at incredibly high volume touting the merits of the National Guard.
When the first preview appeared on the screen, we felt that showtime was finally imminent. However, we then sat through six full preview trailers for upcoming movies, all of which were once again played at ear-splitting volume. I realize that trailers are a part of the moviegoing experience, and the newspaper ads for movie theaters include the caveat “all shows include pre-feature content.”
But for this particular movie, we sat through fully 26 minutes of pre-feature content before the film began. I feel this is excessive and a horrible example of taking advantage of one's customers. Given the high ticket and concession prices, I feel it's reasonable for moviegoers to expect that they won't be forced to endure a 26-minute bombardment of noise and ads before the movie they've come to see. I hope you will take seriously into account my observations.
And a portion of the corporate jibba-jabba response I received:
As far as the pre-feature content goes, this program has been in place for the past ten years and longer. We have placed five to seven minutes of commercial advertising at the beginning of our feature to offset the increasing costs associated with doing business. In this way, we do not have to pass these costs on to our customers in the form of higher prices. In fact, theaters that do not show these ads are currently charging up to $18.00/ticket.
We follow these ads with about fifteen to twenty minutes of coming attractions, something that has been done for well over fifty years. The film distributors request these be played, if we do not comply, then it becomes very difficult at negotiation time to obtain their films. This content is generally about twenty to twenty-five minutes long. Please note that these types of ads are becoming more prevalent in all areas of entertainment.
I highlighted one sentence of the district manager’s response in boldface because it is a lie, a damn lie, and a statistic (apologies to Benjamin Disraeli), and my experience at Penn Cinema proves it.
At Penn Cinema, one enters the theater to see a scrolling series of local goods and services being advertised onscreen. The theater lights dim and two or three previews are shown—after which the room descends into a more complete darkness and the film begins. And yet far from necessitating a doubling of ticket costs, Penn’s prices are actually lower than those at Carmike Wyomissing. What now, sucka?!
The owner of my new favorite theater, Penn Ketchum, seems to go out of his way to establish an authentic relationship with his customers and with the community—unlike corporate behemoths whose ties to the community are chiefly within the consumer/business paradigm.
Penn sends out a free weekly newsletter loaded with trivia, facility updates, a few tidbits about his own life, upcoming events, movie showtimes and synopses.
The most distinctive aspect of Penn Cinema’s relationship with the community is its “The Heart of Lancaster Presents…” program. Each Monday at 7pm throughout the spring and fall, Penn Cinema screens a classic film based on customer requests, Penn’s ideas, and availability of prints. Aside from connecting with another business in the Lititz region (Heart of Lancaster is a medical center in the area), the program allows for direct interaction with customers and enables people to see some of their favorite films on the big screen again. Previous classic films screened through “The Heart of Lancaster Presents…” have included Raiders of the Lost Ark (attended by Mr. and Mrs. Monsoon), Casablanca (attended by Mrs. Monsoon and her ma), The Princess Bride, Top Gun, Star Trek: The Motion Picture, Raging Bull, The Goonies, Footloose, Citizen Kane, Caddyshack, Witness, and many others.
At a HOL screening, Penn greets the audience and welcomes them to the show, full of enthusiasm for the film. He shares tidbits about the making of the film, some historical perspective when applicable, takes questions from the audience, and gives prizes to audience members who can correctly answer his trivia questions about the movie. The HOL screenings are generally crowded and are marked by a festive atmosphere; people from all over the region are brought together by a genuine love of cinema.
The spring season of HOL has just ended (with a showing of 1989’s Batman at the end of April) but Penn is already hard at work planning the fall 2008 (September through December), spring 2009 (February through April) and subsequent seasons. He is constantly soliciting suggestions, so I’d like to offer forth this list of twenty very different movies off the top of my head that I would enjoy seeing on the “big screen” once again (or, in some cases, for the first time).
The Shawshank Redemption
The Rock
Fletch
All the President’s Men
Drop Dead Gorgeous
Poltergeist
Hoosiers
Action Jackson
The Breakfast Club
Die Hard
WarGames
Legend of Billie Jean / Turk 182! double feature
Planes, Trains, and Automobiles
Romancing the Stone
Three Amigos!
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
The Shining
Dog Day Afternoon
Malcolm X
Please leave comments below ranking these ideas and/or offering suggestions of your own! (I think he’s looking to show films that were in original theatrical release at least ten years ago.) I will keep you posted when the next season’s offerings are announced…
Penn Cinema is only about 40 minutes from Laureldale, a half-hour from Shillington, and 25 minutes or so from A-town.
Simple directions: Take Route 222 south past the Adamstown, Denver, and Ephrata exits to the Brownstown/Rothsville exit (Route 772). Right at the end of the ramp, then an immediate left onto Route 272.
Go a bit less than 2 miles, then make a slight right onto Route 722. (There may be a slight detour here due to some road/bridge construction on 722; just follow the signs.)
After about two and half miles, make a right onto Airport Road (where you see a sign for the airport) and continue less than a half-mile; Penn Cinema is on your left.
See you at the movies!
Monsoon's Weather Update for Tuesday, 20 May 2008
My friends,
I’d like to begin by saying Happy Birthday to our trusty companion Sasha, who was born on this day a number of years ago (a lady is never asked to reveal her age).
(And, so she doesn’t feel left out, hello to her younger sister Ruthie too.)
Below is the weather forecast; I will send an update if it appears this weekend’s weather will be substantively different from what I’ve indicated here.
Weather narrative: Rainy and cool today; there’s a chance of a shower or two tomorrow, but it shouldn’t be a washout. Then things really get nice for the long Memorial Day weekend: as of now, Friday through Monday look fantastic.
Next week looks to be rather pleasant as well for the most part, but rain will return by the end of the week. Next weekend is looking wet and dreary, unfortunately.
Beyond the forecast: Looking for a warm-up into early June. Specifically, June 2nd (Mifflin’s graduation) looks to be in the 80s with the chance of afternoon or evening thunderstorms. (At least there’s no need for lining up outside the Intermediate School prior to commencement this year, which will be held in the Sovereign Center.)
Monsoon Martin’s Open Letter to The Roots re: Deerhoof
Dear Legendary Roots Crew,
Have you heard of “tough love”? It’s when a friend or family member sits you down, fixes a grave stare upon you, and initiates a frank discussion about some shortcoming you have or some baffling behavior you’ve engaged in.
And before we get to the “tough” part, let me—as one should in any intervention that hopes to be successful—talk about the love I have for you.
I have been a rabid fan of your Grammy-winning, authentic hip-hop selves since hearing your song “Proceed II” with jazz institution Roy Ayers on the Red Hot + Cool compilation way back in 1995. I bought your first major-label album, Do You Want More?!!!??!, and instantly loved Black Thought’s flow and witty rhymes, ?uestlove’s inventive percussion, and the organic sound of it all. At a time when hip-hop was succumbing to widespread sampling and stale, programmed backing music, The Roots burst on the scene with live instrumentation, a multiplicity of influences, and fierce talent.
When you released your second major label album, Illadelph Halflife, I was at the release party at the now-defunct HMV Records in Philadelphia at midnight on September 24th, 1996.
Ahmir “?uestlove” Thompson, I’m sure you recall greeting us at the door and shaking my now-wife’s hand as she gaped at your massive, Afro-topped frame—6’ 5”, with the Afro 6’ 9”, apologies to Fletch. I’m sure you also recall that I excitedly notified my then-girlfriend as we walked away, “That was a Root!” (for I was not yet a dedicated enough fan to know the name of each band member). And you might finally recall—and who could blame you?—thinking to yourself at that moment, “White people.”
You played for free that night and rocked that store off its foundation with songs like “Concerto of the Desperado” and “Clones,” among others. Rahzel, the human beat-box who was in your employ for a time, was particularly outstanding during this intimate performance.
[For those of my readers who are unfamiliar with The Roots, might I direct you to two videos on YouTube—which you’re free to explore further to find other Roots treasures—that exemplify their artistry and energy in concert. In the first they are performing the song “Game Theory” from the album of the same name; the second video is a recent performance of one of their original hits, “Mellow My Man.”]
We followed you loyally from record label to record label, through band departures (Malik B., Hub) and additions (Kamal, Captain Kirk), through awards, critical successes, and disappointing sales, and popular breakthroughs.
But Roots (here comes the tough love part), What in funkless hell is up with Deerhoof?!!!??!
Deerhoof is an avant-indie-rock band based in San Francisco and has been described by the otherwise competent and reliable music critic Ben Ratliff of The New York Times as “one of the most original rock bands to have come along in the last decade.”
I was blissfully unaware of Deerhoof before I attended my next Roots concert. Billed as “An Evening with The Roots,” the show was held on September 15th, 2005 at the Kimmel Center’s Verizon Hall. I had noticed a full roster of at least five opening acts—none of whom I had heard of—but thought little of it. I had an outstanding ticket, having splurged on a box seat, and would see The Roots in a state-of-the art venue in their (and my, sort of) hometown. I was psyched.
I arrived midway through the “lesser” opening acts, which consisted mainly of local acts, close friends of the band, and other up-and-comers. The two most prominent openers for The Roots were TV on the Radio and Deerhoof. TV on the Radio was quirky but decent, though their set went a little long, and we (along with the overwhelming majority of the crowd) were anxious to see the headliners.
And then, Deerhoof came onstage.
My friends, I like many types of music and have been known to embrace unorthodox or experimental acts in my time. I remember listening to my dad’s Mothers of Invention and Captain Beefhart albums with a perplexed awe. Some of my favorite artists of all-time—Minutemen, John Coltrane, Jethro Tull, Fela Kuti, Rage Against the Machine—are artists who are notable for having blended genres, changed the rules, taken a stand, and dared to be distinctive. I am not some kind of musical ingénue who only likes to hear three-minute pop songs or something with a good beat. I like some goofy shit that ostensibly no one else does.
But I say this to you now: Deerhoof was the most upsetting aural experience of my lifetime.
Onto the stage stepped three slender, indistinctive white dudes who looked like they could have been plucked from any suburban high school’s A/V club. Accompanying them was a short Japanese woman, who appeared from her position onstage to be the bassist and vocalist.
The drummer, Greg Saunier, stepped to the microphone and offered a brief, endearing introduction to the band that went something like: “We’re Deerhoof, and we came from California. We hope you’ll like the sounds we make for you.” It was the very last moment I felt anything but fury toward Deerhoof.
And then they began to play.
Saunier instantly became a human Herky Jerk, playing spastic runs that sounded like snippets from a free-form drum solo, never really falling into any recognizable pattern or tempo whatsoever.
The other two guys held guitars and summoned tuneless, often distorted rock chords and the occasional tortured, miserable single note from them, and looked as if they believed they were playing actual music. Their guitar sounds seldom matched the percussive seizures that were happening behind them at the drum kit, as if they were isolated in some sort of invisible soundproof room. (If only I could have found such a room at that moment.)
And then there was the band’s diminutive singer/bassist, Satomi Matsuzaki. Dressed in what appeared to be pajamas, the Japanese-born Matsuzaki—who apparently speaks little English—flailed away inexpertly at her bass guitar, further adding to the musical cacophony. She also sang unintelligible lyrics in a high, gibbering, childish voice devoid of any attempt at consistent pitch.
The aforementioned Ben Ratliff of The New York Times described her thus: “Ms. Matsuzaki, who also plays bass in the quartet, never sang or played an instrument before joining the group 10 years ago, and her thin voice is an acquired taste; many of the English lyrics she sings do not use stresses where normal speech puts them, which can make them nearly impossible to understand.” This is all a very learned, affected way of saying, “The singer is atrocious, but those of you who are so shallow as to demand talent from your musical groups are too unsophisticated to comprehend what Deerhoof is all about.”
What she actually sang about is anyone’s guess. At one point she seemed to be crying, “Don’t eat meat! Don’t eat meat!” as if it were some kind of vegan manifesto, but she could also have been saying “Dominate!” or “Mosley Street!” or almost anything else at all. The lyrics of a song they sang that night, entitled “Flower,” run in part: “Flower, flower, flower / Power, power, power / I come over / I take over!”
[I admit that even my purple, overwrought prose may not be able to convey the actual sounds that confronted us that night when Deerhoof performed, so here are two videos from YouTube of their live performances. The first is entitled “Panda Panda Panda” and encapsulates pretty much all that is wrong about Deerhoof; the second is a live performance of “Flower,” some of whose lyrics are transcribed above. I want you all to check out at least one of these videos, but I must also apologize in advance for the adverse reactions—skin rashes, ear bleeding, and vertigo are not out of the question—you may experience from doing so. I feel like a man who has eaten a bite of a putrid sirloin steak, turns to his dining companions and says, “There’s something hinky about this. Try it.”]
The collective effect of a Deerhoof performance is the musical equivalent of postmodern philosopher Jacques Derrida: inscrutable, pretentious, and infuriatingly obtuse. The sounds stop and start jarringly; the noise threatens fleetingly to fall into an actual meter, then veers wretchedly off into oblivion; and overlaying it all are the Minnie Mouse-like screechings of its lead vocalist, indecipherable and ridiculous.
I looked on with an ever-deepening, bewildered despair that I shall never forget as each song set new standards for unlistenability and horridness. At one point I tried to insist that even though the cumulative effect was horrific, I could tell that the drummer in particular was actually quite an accomplished musician; my companion glared at me with such betrayal in her eyes that I quickly realized any attempts to mitigate or elucidate this auditory travesty would be foolhardy.
I looked around at the diverse crowd that had assembled in Verizon Hall to hear their hip-hop heroes, The Roots: hardcore hip-hop fans; WXPN types who had been turned on to the band by their young urban professional friends; fans ranging in age from teens to fifties, easily. I saw everything from tautly polite expressions to gawping outrage, from bitter resentment to trying-to-make-sense-of-this confusion, from naked rage to blissed-out euphoria.
Wait—“blissed-out euphoria”? Yes, there they were: two art-school types, clearly dedicated Deerhoof fanatics, bopping along and gyrating to the strident din being blasted forth at the audience from the stage. They, I said to myself, and probably to my companion, are goddamned insane.
As I endured the hideous din onstage—which by now was calling to mind the irregular, heaving kecks of a vomiting mule—I fully expected one of The Roots to come onstage, halt the performance, and offer profuse apologies for its lack of quality. But unforgivably, and unforgettably, no such Root forthcame.
Deerhoof’s unceasing, blaring racket stretched on and on, seemingly for days, and I began to wonder why you, The Legendary Roots Crew, would have felt it necessary to inflict this desolate clamor upon your loyal and true fans. Have we—who came to support your joyous homecoming, your ascendancy to Philadelphia musical royalty, your acceptance by polite society—have we failed you in some fundamental way? Is this a punishment of some sort? (And if so: message received.)
The other possibility—and this one was almost more painful to consider—is that you guys actually like Deerhoof. And it’s this potentiality that brings us here to this intervention.
Roots, please hear me: Deerhoof is not, as its fans and some critics have asserted, deconstructing traditional structures and eliding the foundations and boundaries of popular music. Deerhoof is not delightfully turning the industry on its head, interrogating accepted paradigms, or meaningfully subverting compositional rules.
Deerhoof is sucking. That is all they are doing. They are sucking, and they are doing it hard. The sooner you come to terms with this, the better off you (and your fans) will be.
The one bright spot during Deerhoof’s set—aside from its eventual conclusion—occurred immediately following a rousing “tune” that featured Satomi Matsuzaki on cowbell, when a member of the audience bellowed, “More cowbell!” alluding to the “Saturday Night Live” sketch about a Blue Oyster Cult recording session.
Happily, you, the Legendary Roots Crew, played a blistering, two-and-a-half-hour set that night at Verizon Hall and I even met Black Thought—which, again, I’m sure you recall vividly—so the Deerhoof unpleasantness receded into the background of my memory. You came into the room led by a New Orleans jazz band (whose members had been displaced by Hurricane Katrina, and whom you—The Roots—had actually invited to stay at your homes), you had great guests like Dice Raw and even a surprise appearance by the incredible, incomparable Jill Scott.
Since that night, I have tried many times to explain to my friends the horror of—and explain to myself the appeal of—Deerhoof, who evidently has quite a cult following. I have a theory I regard as strong, and—as I am anxious to put the whole Deerhoof matter behind me, as one would any trauma—I will share it here and move on with my life. Deerhoof has set itself up as a truly alternative artist in a world of supposedly “alternative” acts that sign with major labels and “sell out.” Critics have decided that Deerhoof is operating on a more complex and urbane musical level than the average person can really get his or her mind around. The net effect of all this is that music critics or indie fans are afraid to not like Deerhoof because they fear being exposed as Beyoncé-loving troglodytes who are incapable of appreciating dense, intricate music.
No one—not even their fans and fawning critics—understands Deerhoof because Deerhoof is unknowable. It is impossible to derive meaning from the nonsensical, just as it’s proverbially futile to try and get blood from a stone. Deerhoof is a stone that has been thrown at my earholes repeatedly, and I want it to stop.
And this brings me to the renewed sense of urgency that necessitated this little talk, my dear Roots.
Last month, I learned that you would be hosting The Roots Picnic at the Penn’s Landing Festival Pier in early June, which promised to be a wildly entertaining show. I was even looking forward to seeing your co-headliner, Gnarls Barkley.
But as my eyes rested on the third name on the billing for this show, I gasped (literally, audibly; I have a bit of a tendency for the dramatics): Deerhoof. And all the old questions came rushing back: Why do you, my beloved Roots, keep wreaking this dreadful band on your fans? How have we forsaken you?
Again, I understand that Deerhoof has opened for plenty of well-known bands, whose devotion to Deerhoof has been described as “evangelical”: Sonic Youth, Wilco, Radiohead, and The Flaming Lips among them. The only explanation I have for any of this is that there’s been a massive psychotic break in the music industry, and that the members of these bands—and yours—are afraid of not seeing the “genius” in Deerhoof, as I posited above. It’s the only explanation I can live with.
Legendary Roots Crew, my plea to you is this: cease and desist any association with the band Deerhoof and drop them from your June show at Penn’s Landing so that I, and legions of your true hip-hop fans, might again feel able to come and see your concerts without fearing exposure to the rancid, devoid musical stylings of Deerhoof.
Sincerely,
Monsoon's Weather Forecast and Imagine Day update for Wednesday, 14 May 2008
My friends,
Imagine Day is an annual event at Governor Mifflin undertaken by the Imagine Project, formed by students in the wake of the Columbine shootings in 1999. The culmination of a week’s worth of events, Imagine Day is an afternoon’s worth of activities involving the entire student body. In the athletic stadium, students can enjoy outdoor activities, watch the performances of student bands, and socialize with their peers in an informal (but supervised) environment. In previous years, Imagine Week has included workshops and other elaborate activities designed to have students interact across their typical peer groups and learn about other cultures and perspectives.
Imagine Day is scheduled for Friday afternoon; rain date is Monday afternoon. To try and help the members of the Imagine Project make a decision about whether or not to postpone the concert, I present the following detailed forecast, with updates to come as they are necessary.
Following the Imagine predictions are forecasts for the rest of the coming two-week period.
Friday, 5/16: breezy and cool with intermittent rain, heavy at times. High 60, low 47.
11am 56 degrees, rain or drizzle; chilly NNE winds 18-12 mph
12pm 58 degrees, showers; chilly NNE winds 8-12 mph
1pm 59 degrees, steady rain, chance of t-storm; chilly N winds 10-15 mph
2pm 60 degrees, steady rain, chance of t-storm; chilly NNW winds 10-15 mph
3pm 60 degrees, steady rain, chance of t-storm; chilly NNW winds 15-20 mph
Monday, 5/19: partly cloudy and breezy. High 66, low 47.
11am 59 degrees, mostly cloudy, light winds; a quick shower?
12pm 61 degrees, partly cloudy, light winds
1pm 63 degrees, partly cloudy, light winds
2pm 64 degrees, partly cloudy, light winds
3pm 66 degrees, partly to mostly cloudy, light winds
Other days…
Wednesday, 5/14: sunny and gorgeous; clouding up later with a thunderstorm possible late. High 82, low 54.
Thursday, 5/15: partly to mostly cloudy and less warm. High 75, low 52.
Friday, 5/16: see above.
Saturday, 5/17: breezy, pleasant, and partly cloudy. High 67, low 49.
Sunday, 5/18: partly to mostly cloudy and windy with a shower or two possible. High 66, low 47.
Monday, 5/19: see above.
Tuesday, 5/20: mostly cloudy. High 65, low 47.
Wednesday, 5/21: mostly sunny and somewhat warmer. High 72, low 51.
Thursday, 5/22: clouds and sun. High 71, low 53.
Friday, 5/23: partly cloudy and pleasant. High 70, low 52.
Next weekend: Memorial Day weekend looks to be rather cool with plenty of clouds but little chance of a shower until Monday. Highs will be in the upper 60s; lows in the mid to upper 40s.
Beyond: The last few days of May look wet and cool before an early-June warm-up.