I think it’s important that when you have nothing nice to say, you have a very public place in which to air your grievances. And that you do so in an extremely tenuous logical web. And I have a lot of mean crap to say. So here goes.
My father-in-law likes to bring me clipped articles from magazines and newspapers that he feels I will enjoy – or at least relate to in a personal way. He has been holding onto a Houston-related article for me for about a year. This article, from the August 2008 edition of Smithsonian (“Southern Comfort“), was written by a poet named Mark Doty, who now resides in Montrose, the only place I would want to move back to if I ever decided to return to the scene of my early adulthood crimes. Which isn’t going to happen.
In any case, this article praises Houston for its genteel spirit, something the author appreciated in relation to the gruff experience that is living in New York City. He even talks of nearly breaking down in tears when a waitress offered him green beans. Though I can appreciate how a poet would want to make a point of this reaction, it still made me want to vomit. Uncontrollably. And then this happened.
A good part of this article talks about Houston’s spirit of moving forward, how the city tends to remove the past in favor of the possibilities that the future offers. Here’s the part I LOVE:
In a flash, after decades in which the exurbs seemed to be most peoples’ goal, it became fashionable to live downtown. So the old neighborhood disappears, to be replaced by something more anonymous, and while I tend to think the destruction of the past is regrettable, I admit I’ve had my preconceptions brought up short.
All right, Mark Doty, let’s ignore the human cost of removing affordable housing WHILE razing historical neighborhoods like Freedmen’s Town. Let’s also ignore the profit motives of Perry Homes and the rest of the cookie-cutter-home builders. Let’s go with “I have preconceptions, and I’m about to toss them aside on the basis of a single quote.” Everybody duck; cherrypicking commences in 3…2…1…
A friend asked a black student if he’d visited the city’s historical African-American enclaves, and the student said, “Why would we want to see that?” That’s a characteristically Houstonian attitude: What’s so hot about yesterday? Let’s go forward, let’s see who we can be now.
I’m going to start with the presumption that Houston’s attitude can be summed up based on a single and singularly cavalier secondhand quote from a “black student.” Which I find somehow lacking. I also find lacking the use of the term “black” and “African-American” in the same sentence. I suppose poets can’t be called upon to proofread, but perhaps Smithsonian can afford some copy editors with stimulus money? All right, let’s bring it home now:
A historical preservation organization has been raising concerns that a handsome Art Deco theater in the city’s River Oaks neighborhood will be torn down to build a high-rise. But I’ve come to understand the principle at work, if not its application: Houston is about the new, about transformation and ambition, the making and remaking of the self and the environment. Of course we make mistakes, but in ten years they’re gone, and there’s space for the next set of possibilities.
Uh, Mark, that’s the point. They’ll be gone. And there’s no replacing them. You know? When you raze historical landmarks, they go away.
And by the way, you can’t have it both ways. Not with me you can’t. For you to understand the principle at work but not the application means that you want to embrace the new but excuse the monstrous destruction of the old. I reject as false your attempt to straddle this divide. Especially in an article where you are overwhelmingly praising a wildcatting spirit that was born of land swindles and oil booms and busts.
Please do not forget that part of Houston’s revitalization in downtown has been the restoration of old warehouses into lofts. You don’t have to raze the past to build the future. The two can coexist peacefully, and your ability to gloss over the crime of destroying the Fourth Ward is quite frankly breathtaking in its heartlessness. It is especially heartless because based on an anonymous source, you have sought to excuse the mass homogenization of Uptown/Downtown Houston. If you’re going to wipe away history, you’re going to have to do so in the context of a more academic article. Shame on you for using your breezy bullshit travel profile to dismiss historic preservationists, Mark. I hope Houstonians and travelers alike see you for the crap tourist you are.
What the hell does this have to do with music? Well, nothing. But the lazy assumptions on display here are a distant relative to those made in a CD review published in the Phoenix family of newspapers, the ones that pretend to be indie news sources for the Northeast. Understand that I know the relationship between these two is tenuous AT BEST. But reading the above Smithsonian article made me realize what I didn’t like about the Phoenix review I had read previously: clinging to threads of truth in short off-the-cuff pieces doesn’t allow for thoughtful analysis of weighty issues.
The review in question is Michael Patrick Grady’s three-paragraph puffball on Sonic Youth’s The Eternal. I admit, I am a huge fanboy and happen to like the album quite a bit while recognizing it’s no Daydream Nation. And I guess the reviewer doesn’t hate it. But he also seeks to dismiss it as filler while not delving even remotely beyond the very surface of why he issues the dismissal. And while a review like this would receive the same dismissal from me on maybe any other weekend, this particular angry weekend, I will make an exception.
This is Sonic Youth’s first release on Matador Records, a retirement home for long-in-the-tooth indie-rockers, after two decades of major-label albums and one celebrity-curated Starbucks hits compilation.
Agenda much?
Sorry, did I say that out loud? Please continue, Mike.
Maybe discovering that Beck’s favorite Sonic Youth song is “Sugar Kane” threw them for a loop, because The Eternal abandons the comfortable maturity of their three previous excellent records in favor of the throwback ’90s sound of Dirty. They’ve even let throwback ’90s bassist Mark Ibold join the band as a full member.
This is where the reviewer and I simply disagree, and I’m willing to admit that we can have differences of opinion. I liked Dirty. Still do. Just bought the reissue CD despite having owned the album since my college days. Maybe the reviewer liked the album when it came out, too. But he clearly sees this as an inferior period in the band’s lifespan. OK. Fair enough.
But what’s specifically wrong with creating an album that has shades of previous work? And what specifically was wrong with that work? The sound of Dirty only strikes me as throwback in that the album came out when I was in college. Which is a long-ass time ago. It was ahead of its time then. Do you not think so? And why not?
Because here’s where our analyses differ: I view Dirty as a smart nod toward the prevailing musical ethos of the time that at the same time takes aim at the excesses of our overall culture as well as political and social injustices. That’s what I see in Dirty. It’s not just an album that was made in the 90s. (Just as Mark Ibold isn’t just a bassist who played in the 90s. That is perhaps the most “what, what, WHAT?” moment in the entire article.) See, I just offered more analysis of the album in one sentence than you offered in the three paragraphs you used to slag its legacy. Maybe next time, you’ll think about what you’re writing for longer than 10 minutes, which is how long it took me to craft the above sentence. Give me a reason to hate Dirty and I’ll follow you. But hating it just because it’s 17 years old isn’t enough. And hating a new album because it hearkens back to those days isn’t enough either.
All right, what’s next, Mike?
What it lacks in depth, the release makes up for in spirit. “Sacred Trickster” and “Thunderclap” are infectious rockers that don’t belabor the point; each expires after two minutes.
Yeah, you would know something about not belaboring the point, wouldn’t you? Yes, you would. Prove it to me.
“Anti-Orgasm” tosses off lyrical platitudes with an earnest rebellion that should be reserved for teenagers; it’s saved by a hard-edged guitar squall and the novelty of the shared vocals from Thurston and Kim.
Thank you! There you go. Ignore the deep sense of irony that pervades Sonic Youth’s work. Say that female and male vocals together save a song. That’s a great gloss-over. Now eschew analysis for something really gasp-inducing.
The best tracks, “What We Know” and “Walkin Blues,” are, no surprise, from the reliable Lee Ranaldo. His voice is clear and confident, and the songs possess a strength and dignity that befit a songwriter of his stature and age.
Part of my issue here is perhaps a simple difference of opinion. Lee Ranaldo’s voice is clear and confident to the point that I feel he is shouting into a megaphone that is two inches from the tip of my nose. I have always felt this way about Lee Ranaldo. Sometimes (“Rain King”) it works for me. Sometimes (“Wish Fulfillment”) it doesn’t. But I would be surprised if I ever referred to Lee as reliable. I always felt like his songs were the outliers. Am I wrong in this?
What’s worse for me is the one thread that actually holds this article together: maturity/strength/stature/age/dignity vs. Dirty/throwback/rebellion/90s. Yes, the newer albums seemed different from the older albums. But what is maturity? How do you define maturity on a musical level? Does it mean you stop using dissonance and noise as much? Is that maturity? Really? Because that’s a difference I see between the new and the old, perhaps the primary difference.
And I love some of the newer moments, though not all. I love Rather Ripped for what it is to me, which is more of a proof-of-concept album than a step toward whatever represents musical maturity. I love many moments in Murray Street, though if you want to talk about lyrical platitudes, ask Jim O’Rourke about those.
But I don’t view them as better, more mature, or more dignified. And without a definiition of maturity from Mike, I don’t know what to make of his comparison. I just don’t. And I think if you’re going to use the word, it has to really mean something. And you have to define it. And if you’re going to examine different parts of the legacy of a band that has been around for (gah!) three decades, you need to spend more than three grafs-and-a-cloud-of-dust to define maturity for that band.
So sum it up for us, Mike. What’s your take?
The Eternal is a fun, superficial tangent, disappointing in its regressiveness but enjoyable as long you don’t examine it too closely.
I guess you enjoyed it then? Because you certainly didn’t examine it too closely. But it sounds like you didn’t enjoy it. So, um, what’s up?
And by the way, I know “regressiveness” appears in the dictionary, but you could’ve and should’ve said “regression.” Although I don’t think that word means what you think it means. I think you are conflating time regression with musical regression. I see the first to an extent in the album but not the second. Anyway, don’t say “regressiveness.” It makes you sound stupid.
I think this is the point where I need to connect these two articles with a nice little bow. Wish me luck.
Both articles seek to draw serious conclusions based on light or non-existent research/review/examination. To an extent, the latter album review gets a pass for being part of a larger music section in a newsweekly that no doubt has mountains of local show listings and other reviews to fit into its pages as well (whereas Smithsonian oughta know better than to publish this tripe). But neither of them gets a larger pass in my book. They both represent lazy journalism attempting to reach higher heights than either of them are entitled to reach.
So next time, Mark and Mike, stick with green beans and gossip items about Beck’s musical tastes. That is, unless you’re willing to put meat on the bones of your arguments. I am an unrepentant carnivore and I deserve better.
I am also a unrepentant crank. Duh.
Good dissections, both. I haven’t heard much of SY’s recent stuff, but I have to say that it irks me when writers equate youth with rebellion and age with “maturity,” whatever the hell *that* is. Does that mean that when you crack 40, you should quit playing loud music and start doing Simon & Garfunkel covers? No way in hell. The truly best artists out there are great because they hang onto that youthful wonderment, energy, and rebellion, not because they outgrow it.
As for the Houston article, I’m disgusted but not surprised; the city’s been moving towards a collective shrug when it comes to the demolition of any and every historical building, and the few groups fighting things like the probably-impending (and tragic as hell) destruction of the River Oaks Theatre are paddling upstream against a current of money, money, money.
This city is one where business has learned it’s easier to do whatever the heck they want and just ignore the naysayers than to cave in or make compromises, because the majority of Houstonians, sadly, quickly fall victim to a kind of unseeing amnesia — people forget, and then remember belatedly when they drive past where some historic building used to be; “hey, wasn’t that where…?” It’s an insidious, callous strategy; knock it down quick, because if the building’s no longer there anyway, what’s to fuss about?
And then we’re left with blocks and blocks of hideous cookie-cutter condos that tower over neighborhoods like Montrose, blocking out the freaking sun like some miniaturized downtown skyline. They’re built quickly and like crap, so they don’t last, like we’re *intending* for them to be part of some eventual slum. If folks like Doty think that’s a selling point to the downtown area and the Inner Loop in general, hell, I’m glad we left the Montrose. Westbury, represent!
I think that’s a bit of a misreading of Mark Doty’s essay. He’s not writing a defense of historic preservation (although he clearly says “I tend to think the destruction of the past is regrettable”), he’s trying to describe the attitude of the city in which, let’s be honest, people tear shit down all the time.
I do agree with you that I would have liked Doty to take a stronger stand in his section about “I’ve come to understand the principle at work, if not its application” because there are consequences, as you say, to being blase about the destruction of the River Oaks Theater. However, I really think he’s trying to get at the zeitgeist of this city in which we’ve built for the future and torn down the past for so long. It’s not a pro/con development piece.
I also wanted to stick up for Doty’s piece because he’s such a fine poet and essayist in general. And you’ll be happy to know he’s left Houston for Rutgers.
I do know that people tear shit down all the time in Houston. I was in the city long enough to witness minimalls being torn down to be replaced by other minimalls. But explaining this as “let’s see who we can be now” attitude to the city, based on a single quote by an acquaintance of a friend, ignores larger corporate forces at work trying to squeeze every real estate dime out of downtown that they possibly can. In addition, it fails to convince me that Houstonians have this zeitgeist you describe. I don’t agree that Houstonians in general have this desire to demolish every square inch of historical property out there, and even if they did, Doty needs to do some actual sociological work to prove this. Hardly the kind of stuff you would do in preparation for writing this sort of travel-related drivel, but if you’re going to go there, you gotta go there all the way or go home.
So even if this is not about the pros and cons of redevelopment – and I admit it’s not – it fails to even come close to explaining the mass destruction of Houston’s historical landmarks as a cultural phenomenon. His other work may be grand, but Doty failed this time. Flat out failed.
Nice post, Josh. I work for a massive bookmonster who will be closing another Houston deco theater this year to move into a brand new store up the street (in the same center that will house the high-rise you mentioned above). Both theaters, I might add, owned by the same property management company.
I personally pop boners at the idea of old buildings living on in a functional fashion. Sure, the day comes when things come down, by hook or by crook, but making an effort to admire, preserve, and generally appreciate that which came before is good stuff by me.
I have moved from the old theater into a gigantic barn of a store, and let’s just say the ambiance is a little less enviable.
Houston is a city fully enamored of destroying anything that gets in the way of “next.” Unfortunately, next seems to bring us ever closer to the homogeneity of places like Dallas. No character? That’s progress!
I thought it was funny the way in which you tied (perhaps a wee unsuccessfully) both the Doty article and the SY review; but who cares, it was still good stuff.
So what’s the story, you gonna’ take the reins for a more permanent Sunday slot? You’ve got my totally worthless vote.
Got my vote, too.
Thanks, y’all. I’m in if the crew will have me. In fact, Heather spent a good portion of yesterday trying to find the right photo to submit for the “guest” slot.
Yeah, I think the way that these two articles really don’t go together as well as my feeble attempt to link them are evident in the comments, which tend to be more about the subject matters at hand rather than about my overarching point – that the lazy journalism sins of the first are related to the lazy journalism sins of the second, and that it was merely reading the first after reading the second that brought home for me what I didn’t like about the second.
But I’m glad you liked the post and am glad you like historical preservations. I’ll be visiting my personal favorite ongoing historical preservation project – Fenway Park – in August. I find it frustrating that Doty’s piece, as one person said, was an attempt to capture zeitgeist rather than go pro/con development. Because there’s no zeitgeist. None. Just political and business realities that push old buildings off cliffs. That’s it. Zeitgeist, my ass. Doty’s piece, whether he wants it to or not, reads as the work of a corporate apologist in sheep’s clothing.
No, I think it works. My evidence is that I am now pondering.
Thanks Josh. I’m also glad to have you on board.
you got my vote too.
Not sure I can explain why, but Dirty is where SY lost me. It was a combination of many factors (from the band as well as personal), but they all came together on that record, and after that (except for a few very brief moments) SY just hasnt been the same to me.
As for the other article, when i hear stuff like that about houston, all i ever think about is this woman who i was talking to, basically having that same discussion (me praising the joy of living houses with history, she talking about the pleasures of brand new homes). At the end she summed her point of view by saying she just didn’t want to use a toilet that other people had used before.
Um, wow.
Hey, Josh. First I’ll say that I’m enjoying debating your meaty blog posting even though I don’t agree with your conclusions. I do think there is a “zeitgeist” because Houston has a very long history of tearing down the old to make way for the new. It’s not JUST about the greed of corporate developers. Just thinking about the lack of 19th century buildings remaining downtown, the fact that Montrose used to be lined with large mansions likes the Univ. of St. Thomas admin building and La Colombe d’Or, and the lack of zoning. I actually see much more of a historic preservation movement now than I ever did before, despite the rampant development of Midtown and the displacement of the community in the Fourth Ward.
But I do think there is something “Houston-y” about the acceptance of all this development that comes out of our history as a very young city, and an oil boom city. Many of Houston’s claims to fame have had to do with “the new” – Johnson’s Pennzoil Place building (which I love), the Galleria, the Astrodome. Houston has never until recently had a sense of the value of older buildings like the Rice Hotel, which stood vacant and dusty for most of my youth, or neighborhoods like the Sixth Ward.
So to me it is not just an issue of political expedience and developers’ greed. Houston has a particular history as a city which has encouraged passivity about the destruction of our built environment.
I haven’t really kept up with Sonic Youth so I couldn’t say whether they have gone Young@Heart or back to their roots. The review does sound like a quick toss-off.
Julie,
I am enjoying as well! This is a great deal of fun. But you know what the problem is? You just wrote Mark’s piece for him. Why couldn’t he come up with any or all of the (albeit anecdotal) evidence you just cited? That’s just lazy not to come up with NASA or the Astrodome or any of these forward-looking enterprises. Instead he just says “we razed Freedmen’s Town and one person doesn’t care so that means Houston embraces new possibilities.” A+B doesn’t equal C.
And I think we’re headed toward a chicken-and-egg discussion. My question is, is there a point at which the political and business realities of the city encouraged the spirit of embracing the new? In other words, are people in Houston simply wired to expect more and more new things? Or has the resistance to destroying the old and making room for the new simply been beaten out of them by a particularly business-friendly political climate? And what would be sociological difference between the two possibilities?
You can probably tell that I feel we are looking at the latter, that Houstonians expect newness because they are used to nothing else. Does that equal a zeitgeist? Or simply apathy? Maybe the movement toward more historical preservation, for what it’s worth, represents a more engaged and less self-absorbed citizenry?
Houston isn’t particularly young (it was founded only three years after Chicago). It’s boom came later of course and it’s main stream culture is intrinsically aligned with the Energy industry, (which bodes well for the town’s future). Houston is less livable than other major cities without modern conveniences (car, air conditioning) for reasons that have to do with geography, climate and industry –all of which aren’t going away ever. So it’s no wonder that in a libertarian environment like Texas, this culture of newness thrives. Besides not much in Houston was built-to-last and nothing architecturally significant.
Anything Houston wants to achieve architecturally is yet to come (tainted view, can’t stand and think are obviously dated and gaudy:the Astrodome, the Galleria). However the one saving grace Houston has on the nature front is a huge gorgeous sky which is always reflected nicely in its sleek glass buildings. Some people peek at ten, some at twenty, some at forty, some at eighty-five. Maybe Houston’s one of those late peekers.
er…peak I mean =)
See, both you and Julie deserve checks from Mark Doty. All I’m saying is he engaged in cursory faux journalism that is nowhere close to an adequate appraisal of Houston’s entrepreneurial spirit and ends up sounding like tone-deaf corporate apologia. Again, boo, Mark Doty, boo from out here in the wild frontier of the Internet. You suck! Essayist-and-poet-fail!
I hadn’t even looked at the article. The way your post was written though I saw a few well tied together themes so I didn’t think bad journalism was the ultimate focus.
It’s funny that Doty mentions the sky in the very first sentence (I’m a genius!).
I’d like to say that I think it’s silly to try to define a diverse population of over four million in terms of any particular zeitgeist. As with any large population, there are a handful of greedy builders, a handful of preservationists, and a large number of people who don’t care one way or the other. While it’s true that Houston has done a lot of history razin’, it’s worth stopping to think about whether any of that stuff was worth keeping or, indeed, was really there the way we remember it.
Houston has always been, as far as I can tell, a city where things are done for the greatest function with the fewest dollars. A historic building in Houston would be a low rise plain brick building. We aren’t talking about architectural beauty here. Even the River Oaks, which as far as I know has been granted a reprieve, isn’t the Art Deco wonder it’s often described as being. Believe me. It has a couple interesting flourishes, but nothing I would describe as unique. And yet, there was a fairly large negative reaction when the owner announced plans to tear it down. To be sure, though, I’ll be the first one to lie down in front of the bulldozer if they do decide its time has come.
And really, I don’t remember the stately mansions on Montrose, unless these predate my ability to remember. There were a couple more in my memory, but mostly it’s always been fairly similar to the way it is now, minus a high rise condo or two.
And Fourth Ward. Does anybody really remember what that was like? I do. This may be an unpopular sentiment, but something needed to be done there. The people there were trapped in self-perpetuating poverty. While the city may be a little too enamored of the magical powers of the market to solve all problems, I’m not sure the end result was bad. And believe me, I hate the entitled pricks who now populate that area as much as the next guy.
As for Sonic Youth, everything since Dirty has been kinda milquetoast to my ears, so I was pleasantly surprised by the new album. Except for that far-too-long Kim song that closes it. They should have left that one off. Or at least trimmed off seven minutes or so.
I do remember what Fourth Ward was like. And Allen Parkway Village, which was never an architectural treasure. But what happened to the people there when it magically became part of uptown? Did they receive new housing? Or did they go somewhere else with their poverty? My money’s on door no. 2.
I haven’t seen and haven’t been able to find any information about where they went. Most of them were renters and the houses that they were renting were very poorly maintained shacks, so I can say pretty confidently that at the very least the structures they are living in now are better.
There’s a lot more to Doty than this slight essay. Here is one of my favorites of his poems, borrowed from http://www.markdoty.org.
At the Gym
This salt-stain spot
marks the place where men
lay down their heads,
back to the bench,
and hoist nothing
that need be lifted
but some burden they’ve chosen
this time: more reps,
more weight, the upward shove
of it leaving, collectively,
this sign of where we’ve been:
shroud-stain, negative
flashed onto the vinyl
where we push something
unyielding skyward,
gaining some power
at least over flesh,
which goads with desire,
and terrifies with frailty.
Who could say who’s
added his heat to the nimbus
of our intent, here where
we make ourselves:
something difficult
lifted, pressed or curled,
Power over beauty,
power over power!
Though there’s something more
tender, beneath our vanity,
our will to become objects
of desire: we sweat the mark
of our presence onto the cloth.
Here is some halo
the living made together.
Perhaps I should disclose that I’m an archivist and have worked closely with old photographs of Houston. Justin, the mansions were here in the 19th and early 20th centuries, so you probably wouldn’t remember them unless you’re a vampire.
You SHOULD have disclosed that, Julie. That’s on the dream job list for me. And you should know Justin is actually a member of the undead, though what classification I am not certain.
I think I’m a zombie. I can’t turn into a bat or anything. Or I couldn’t last time I tried. Maybe I should try again.
I would have to imagine that if there is a “zeitgeist” in Houston that is it is probably wrapped around 30ish neo-professional spiky-haired mooks and their constant probes for empty sexual release. You know, nothing so uplifting as historical preservation. There is no history in the loins of morons. And yeah, I’m not even sure what that means either.
My two cents. On two occasions I resided in the Bissonette Plaza apartments that were located on Westpark and Buffalo Speedway. They were beautiful blocks of apartment units built in the forties. In between the buildings were courtyards with rumpled sidewalks from the huge oak trees.Cats evreyehere. There were three different pools and covered parking with no stupid security gates. There was minimal thru traffic on the streets and it was always quiet. As I remember, the apartmants were all-bills-paid with central air. My grandmother also lived there when I was a young child and I used to visit her and play dominoes in her kitchen. Of course, I was kicked out of this idyllic place so a parking lot and a Kroger could replace it. And yes, I’m waxing nostalgic, but that is my point. This place that had no funtional flaws was demolished and dissapeared so some dickwad developer could make a piece and I’m still not over it. Now when I drive through Southhampton and see all of the “Stop Ashby Highrise” signs in the yards I really don’t give a shit. Are they any more priveledged than I am not to lose a part of their neighborhood? Nobody gave a shit about my beloved Bissonette Plaza.
Here’s another interesting thing to think about on the innocence-vs.-experience angle of the Sonic Youth review. Dirty came out in ’92, at the height of the grunge explosion. Most of the grunge crowd were from Generation X, i.e. born in the ’60s. However, except for Steve Shelley, everyone in Sonic Youth was born in the ’50s. Kim Gordon was 39 when Dirty came out. For perspective, when Mick Jagger was 39, the Stones had just released Tattoo You. The Beatles broke up when John Lennon was 30. Just after Dave Grohl turned 39, the Foo Fighters went on hiatus (for the second time). Bonham died when he was 32. Cobain was only 27. So while the Sonic Youth of Dirty is certainly a young-er band than the Sonic Youth of The Eternal, when most bands reach that younger age, their career is already pretty much over. Certainly, SY were not anywhere near still young enough to still be going through a youthful-rebellion phase of life. So that angle of the review rings false to me. If it exists at all, it’s more like lots-of-experience-vs.-slightly-less-experience.