hurdles, too many or not enough

There’s some chatter in our apparently zombified blogosphere about an article on the “rise and demise of RSS,” one of my favorite topics about an earlier (but faintly persistent) era of Internet readership culture. I’m not going to sketch some rosy picture of the pre-social Internet, but I’m wondering how we’re expected to react to this brief paragraph near the end of the write-up:

Regular people never felt comfortable using RSS; it hadn’t really been designed as a consumer-facing technology and involved too many hurdles; people jumped ship as soon as something better came along.

It’s of course a great achievement that technology has become accessible to all kinds of people–every face-to-face video-chat between a grandmother and her far-away grandson is a powerful testament to that accomplishment. But for every techno-miracle, there are lamentations about our pandemic of troll armies, bigoted doxxers, and millions of Internet users of whatever caricatured generation happens to rank lowest in our political estimation (likely millennials or boomers).

In other words, I’m not quite sure how we’re supposed to square the circle of both admiring how Internet technologies are increasingly available to all kinds of people (which I very much support) but also bemoaning how this broad digital enfranchisement extends to those who use the Internet in ways we find thoroughly unvirtuous.

This paradox recalls some mixed-bag assessments of democracy–Machiavelli, in particular–and it’s a potent test of our commitments to and definitions of participatory society. For now, though, the Internet seems not to have made up its mind about how much user-friendliness and how many hurdles are actually self-salutary. I have my own inclinations, but I suppose I haven’t totally made up my mind either.

January 14, 2019

happy new year from george eliot

… and it seemed to him as if he were beholding in a magic panorama a future where he himself was sliding into that pleasureless yielding to the small solicitations of circumstance, which is a commoner history of perdition than any single momentous bargain.

We are on a perilous margin when we begin to look passively at our future selves and see our own figures led with dull consent into insipid misdoing and shabby achievement.

Middlemarch, Ch. 79

January 1, 2019

at least there was good music this year

Despite all the mayhem and mismanagement of 2018, I was able to enjoy some great live music this year, including that fantastic performance of Ogresse, Angela Hewitt’s virtuosic marathon of the second book of the Well-Tempered Clavier, and a couple great Bill Frisell sets. Now that the year is mercifully coming to an end, I’m picking through albums that have held up over a bunch of listens. In no particular order:

Charles Mingus — Jazz in Detroit:

The never-before-recorded track “Dizzy Profile” is a tune that I just can’t get out of my head, even after several months. It’s a beautiful waltz, especially on the trumpet and on a melodic piano that tosses in some Art Tatum-ish runs. This five-disc release has long, long tracks, all with tons of little things to listen for here and there. You won’t be bored.

Prince — Piano and a Microphone 1983:

The second “newly discovered” release on this list, I picked up this album on the recommendation of a friend from college. Like Jazz in Detroit above, Piano and a Microphone lacks the glisten of hyper-produced pop: the first track starts with Prince calling out “Is that my echo?” and “Can you turn the lights down some in here?” shortly before singing “Good God!” and sort-of-beatboxing over his piano chords. “Turn the voice down a little,” he interrupts at 1:30–unvarnished stuff. How refreshing to hear someone working through songs at the keyboard, not the iMac kind.

Orquesta Akokán (self-titled):

Cuban music is normally off my radar, and I can’t quite remember how I found myself listening to this debut album, but it’s so fantastic from start to finish. All original songs, and you’ll want to change into dancing shoes by the second track. The production on this one stands out: it’s a big band sound that has a little grittiness to the horns and pianos exactly where you’d like it, and you hardly notice you’re listening to something released in 2018.

Minami Deutsch — With Dim Light:

The self-titled debut Miniami Deutsch a few years ago was just fine, but this six-track sophomore album is a lot tighter. Japanese krautrock, but with a dash of punkier Stereolab or My Bloody Valentine-ish vocals, and the first track (“Concrete Ocean”) dabbles in something like math rock. The most interesting actual rock album I came across this year, for sure.

Ivan Ilić — Reicha Rediscovered, Vol. 2:

Tipped by this write-up in the Times, I started listen to the music of Anton Reicha this year. Released as the second of Ivan Ilić’s five-disc series of Reicha’s piano works, these fugue(ish?) tracks really grabbed me–perhaps because this disc sometimes sounds completely non-fugal. The last track, for example, from Reicha’s “36 Fugues” has a playful, even ‘boingy’ feel to it, totally unlike what you’ll hear in the Well-Tempered Clavier.

December 29, 2018