Left of the Dial

Second Thoughts

"I'm DOOOOO-ooooone!" the five-year-old calls from the bathroom. 

I go in and she's cheerily singing a song Nick Jr's Moose sings between shows. I cannot help but clinically observe that she has taken a dump the size of Rhode Island. That kids as a matter of course pop out stool samples which would seem to have come from a professional linebacker never ceases to amaze.

"Oh, wait," she says, smiling up at me beatifically. "Was this the potty you said not to use because it was clogged?" 

economic terrorism

It's considered impolite to post too large an excerpt of a piece. But I'm doing it anyway. Because this so perfectly captures the terrifying insanity taking over our great nation. It flies in the face of tradition, precedent, common sense and decency. The policies the hostage-takers are insisting on are foolish and contrary to ethics or morality.

The ones driving the bus are the same ones who took the largest surplus in US history, turned it into the largest deficit in US history (although the deficit really isn't all that important, as these things go, hysteria to the contrary—simply getting our economy back on track would take care of it without brutal cuts to services for the poor and the elderly), and are now holding a gun to the country's head, saying "do things which are ignorant and counter-productive way or we'll make things go from bad to horrific."

As I've pointed out time and again, I love my conservative friends and family, maybe because, in part at least, they understand that in life you have to compromise. This is something most of us learn by the time we're five years old. The current GOP believes that's a stupid idea. The result is going to be a seriously lessened nation. 

The notion of "it can't happen here" is a dangerous one.  

Josh Marshall made an interesting point in passing yesterday, asking whether conservative Republicans could achieve massive spending cuts through “old-fashioned majority votes.” Josh answered his own question: “Of course not.” The cuts on the table were only made possible by Republicans “threatening the health” of the United States.

I think this arguably one of the more important realizations to take away from the current political landscape. Republicans aren’t just radicalized, aren’t just pursuing an extreme agenda, and aren’t just allergic to compromise. The congressional GOP is also changing the very nature of governing in ways with no modern precedent.

Welcome to the normalization of extortion politics.

Consider, for example, the Republican decision to reject any and all nominees to the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, regardless of merit, unless and until Democrats accepted changes to the agency’s structure. Traditionally, if the GOP wanted to alter the powers of the CFPB, it would write legislation, send it committee, bring it to the floor, send it to the other chamber, etc. But that takes time and effort, and in a divided government, this “old fashioned” approach to policymaking probably wouldn’t produce the desired result.

Instead, we see the latest in a series of extortion strategies: Republicans will force Democrats to accept changes to the agency, or Republicans won’t allow the agency to function. Jonathan Cohn wrote a good piece on this a couple of weeks ago, noting the frequency with which this strategy is utilized.

Republican threats to block nominees to the consumer board are of a piece with their opposition to Don Berwick, Obama’s first choice to run the Center for Medicare and Medicaid Services; to Peter Diamond, whom Obama tapped to sit on the Federal Reserve Board; and most recently to John Bryson, Obama’s nominee to take over the Commerce Department. It’s nothing short of a power grab by the Republican Party — an effort to achieve, through the confirmation process, what they could not achieve through legislation. And it seems unprecedented, at least in modern times.

Republicans effectively tell the administration, over and over again, that the normal system of American governance can continue … just as soon as Democrats agree to policy changes the GOP can’t otherwise pass.

The traditional American model would tell Republicans to win an election. If that doesn’t work, Republicans should work with rivals to pass legislation that moves them closer to their goal. In 2011, the GOP has decided these old-school norms are of no value. Why bother with them when Republicans can force through policy changes a series of hostage strategies? Why should the legislative branch use its powers through legislative action when extortion is more effective?

It’s offensive when it comes to nominees like Cordray, but using the full faith and credit of the United States to force through desired policy changes takes this dynamic to a very different level. And since it’s working, this will be repeated and establishes a new precedent.

Indeed, it’s a reminder that of all the qualities Republicans lack — wisdom, humility, shame, integrity — it’s their nonexistent appreciation for limits that’s arguably the scariest.

 

 

Fall on Me

So. I read this recently:

One shortcoming R.E.M. had faced previously was that in spite of being able to create exemplary overarching works in LP and EP forms, the band had yet to write an individual song that undisputedly ranked among rock’s all-time greatest compositions—that is, until “Fall on Me”.

It’s an interesting, if mistaken, point in an otherwise fine piece—any band which had already recorded “Radio Free Europe” and “So. Central Rain” had already made their bones in the classic department.

But that’s not to say that it’s not a great song and if someone wanted to argue it was their finest to that point in time, or even still to this very day, I wouldn’t argue. (Much.)

It’s got a lovely and arresting opening, with the contrasting Rickenbacker arpeggios joined, seemingly slightly out of time, by a ringing acoustic. The guitars sync up ever so briefly before a ritard brings them to a temporary halt. Then, even more out of time, Bill Berry’s drums bash the song into instant high gear, spurring Michael Stipe to begin singing the first verse less than a second later.

The verses are typical for early-to-mid period R.E.M., or rather, an outstanding example of Stipe's writing from that time, with unusual words and evocative phrases which don’t seem to make much literal sense but which combine to create a mood both emotionally powerful and characteristically unique to R.E.M., a lesson not wasted on Kurt Cobain, one of their most attentive and successful disciples.

The band themselves have said the song was originally about acid rain, but as it developed, moved away and into what was, for R.E.M., a love song. How this qualifies as a love song is anyone’s guess, but that’s just part of what made them so magical at that point in time.

The chorus consists of Stipe crooning a plaintive but simple plea, asking the sky not to fall on him. Just as prominent in the mix, however, is Mike Mills’ backing vocals, singing a totally different and contrasting line. Mills takes over the bridge, which seems to harken back to the song’s acid rain origins, one of the bassist’s earliest starring roles in the band, and something which led to him even more widely being regarded as R.E.M.’s secret weapon.

(In reality, he wasn't, and that's without even getting into the question of whether or not a secret weapon can be a secret weapon if everyone knows about the fact that it's a secret weapon.)

The key ever so subtle ingredient which kicks the song from Great to All Time Classic? Drummer Bill Berry’s backing vocals. Mike Mills are far more prominent, and perfect and integral. But it’s Berry’s mumbled asides, first heard in the second chorus, which add an almost hidden yet vital contrast to the tapestry. Berry, who Stipe said was the band’s most conventionally "good" vocalist, is also the one adding a low and mysterious harmony behind Mills during the bridge.

But it’s that third vocal line during the choruses which add so much to the song. Buried during the first chorus, they’re noticeable only upon repeated listening the second time through. But it’s not until the final chorus that you can finally make out that he’s singing “it’s gonna fall.” It’s these three interlocking vocal lines which raise the song from great to masterwork.

It’s much clearer during their gorgeous acoustic rendition on MTV’s Unplugged.

For all their fame and popularity, R.E.M. is the most overlooked of any great vocal group—there are few bands ever who regularly created such intricate and lovely lines and harmonies, and none who garnered less acclaim for it. (Not that R.E.M. has ever lacked for critical esteem, or at least, not in their first 15 years.)

On several occasions, Mike Mills and Bill Berry recorded their backing vocals to a song without knowing what the other was going to sing. I’ve never heard it said that they took that approach with “Fall on Me.” But listening to this, I still like to think that's how this slab of pure pop perfection came about.

Fishing

“Man, there are a lot of little people in this room,” I say, cuddling with the five-year-old on the bed, watching as the two boys, currently ages 2 and 7, bash trucks into each other on the floor.

Top Management walks out shortly thereafter and, without a word, the boys abandon the violence to shadow her like ducklings.

Now it’s just me and the Golden Weasel.

She rolls overs and looks up at me. She smiles.

“Who’s the best little person?” she whispers.

Incomprehensible

“What do doin’s means?”

I look up from my email. The five-year-old, the preternaturally confident Golden Weasel, as I have taken to calling her, takes another bite of mini-wheats as she waits for my reply.

“What…wait, what?”

“What do doin’s means?” she asks again.

I don’t know how to answer this. I suspect a trap.

“What what, sweetie?”

“What do doin’s means?”

“I…I’m sorry, buddy, can you ask me that again?”

“What do doin’s means?”

“What does—“

“No. What do doin’s means?”

“Doin’s?”

“No. What do doin’s means?”

“What do doin’s means.”

“No. What do doin’s means?”

“What do doin’s means?”

“No. What do doin’s means?”

I am at a loss. I haven’t been this unable to understand her in years. Fortunately, just then Top Management walks in.

“Oh, good. Can you ask that again, please?”

“Sure. What do doin’s means?”

I watch Top Management’s face as she tries to process this. It’s delightful.

“What…what does—“

“No. What do doin’s means?”

“What do doin’s mean?”

“No. What do doin’s means?”

“What does—?”

“No. What do doin’s means?”

Through all of this, the Golden Weasel is remarkably calm and unflustered by her parents’ stupiditity, not even the least bit frustrated by their inability to understand basic English.

By now, several sisters have gathered around to try to help decipher.

“What what?

“What do doin’s means?”

“Do doin’s?”

“No. What do doin’s means?”

“Okay, wait. Where did you get this question? Is it something I just said?”

“No.”

“Is it…” Top Management looks at the computer, which is running through the morning’s playlist. “Oh! Is it something you heard in the music? Do-do-do?”

“No.”

We look at each and shake our heads. We’ve been doing the parenting thing a long time, but this one’s new and neither of us can figure out where to go from here.

“What does doin’s mean?” Top Management tries yet again, hoping to somehow force the question into some sort of syntax.

“No. What do doin’s means?”

I start laughing and Top Management just shakes her head helplessly.

Finally, the Golden Weasel realizes she’s dealing with very unbright people and is going to simply have to take matters into her own hands.

“What…do…you…do…in…meetings?” she says slowly, eliminating all contractions from the original sentence. I have the sense she’s wondering if we’re really fit to be in charge of young children.

“Oh!” we all say. “What do doin’s means?”

“That’s what I said.”

I nod. What can I say? When she’s right, she’s right.

“What do you do in meetings? Uh…pretty much just waste time. And money.”

She looks skeptical. "Then why do you go?"

“Well,” I explain. “Back when people first started having meetings, there was no email or phone. So if people wanted to get together to talk about the problem of the new sabre-tooth tigers in the neighborhood, they had to have a meeting. But now that there is email and phones, there’s really not much point in most meetings. But by now it’s just a custom. So.”

“Oh,” she says. She nods, but the look in her eye makes it clear that she’s now wondering if any adults are really fit to be in charge of young children, if they all seem to hold with such foolishness.

“Also,” I add, realizing the best part of meetings. “Sometimes there’s food.”

“Oh!” she says, her eyebrows raising. Then she narrows her eyes as she regards me, clearly wondering why I left the pertinent information for last. I suspect she's thinking about retaining a lawyer in a bid for emancipation, and wondering how much an attorney costs. And if there'll be cookies at each and every meeting.

 

Words of Love

So the ten year old says to me the other day, “Dad, will you teach me about music?”

This isn’t quite up there with a few other questions I’ve been asked in my life: “Would you like to write Batman?” "Want to go watch Bruce rehearse for Letterman?" “Honey, the kids are asleep: wanna join me in the shower?” But, man, it wasn’t far off.

“What do you mean?” I ask, having learned by now that when dealing with the better gender, clarity is oh so vital. “Do you mean, like, teaching you what a sonata is, or a blues, or do you mean more like about Bach and Beethoven and the Beatles and R.E.M. and stuff?”

She thinks for a moment, then smiles. “Yes,” she says.

Kids. 

So the next day we’re driving in the car and I’ve got Buddy Holly in the CD player. So I start to tell her about Buddy, his importance, his impact, some of his most famousest songs and so on.

“Words of Love” comes on.

She listens for a minute, then says, “you know, this sounds a lot like “Do You Want to Know a Secret?”

We’re off to a good start.