Showing posts with label SPIN. Show all posts
Showing posts with label SPIN. Show all posts

Monday, April 28, 2025

RIP Joshua Clover

 









I was shocked and saddened to learn of the death of Joshua Clover.

I didn't know Joshua well but always enjoyed our encounters. Most of these occurred via the phone during a year when I worked at Spin mainly editing the albums section, to which Clover contributed a  monthly column called The Shredder. My memory is hazy but I believe that the idea was through this column Spin would dramatically expand the number of things covered in the reviews section - he would write about a huge number of albums -  15, 20? - in what added up to less than the amount of words that a single album would get if it was that month's lead review. A rather labor-intensive gig, then, as a listening load.... but Joshua relished it - the compression required (just a few lines per record), the challenge of squeezing in polemical barbs and jokes, the opportunity to reflect  his wide taste and interests.. 
























At that point Joshua often wrote using the name Jane Dark. Perhaps the female alter-ego was meant to express his identification with  teengirl taste. He was in fact an early poptimist. (Early for America - in the UK we had anti-rockist provocateurs back in the early Eighties).  A few years later he started the blog jane dark's sugarhigh! - the name again making a pro-pop statement. 

From the spiky wit of the reviews and blogposts, and from his playful demeanor, I took Joshua to be a sort of dandy of the mind (if not necessarily appearance).  So it was a surprise to learn later that he was a Marxist -  a stringent one too, deeply steeped in economy theory -  and a committed and courageous activist. 

I did wonder how the anti-corporate politics correlated with his preference for the products of the entertainment conglomerates over the indie-alternative - I guess maybe the thinking was that the music of the masses would always be more vital than the milquetoast fare favored by bourgeois-bohemia, and also have greater latent political content. Stuff you could read, and where the sales and culture-wide impact ratified the significance read into it.  

As a result of these parallel passions, Clover's publications include a monograph on "Roadrunner" by Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers and 1989: Bob Dylan Didn't Have This To Sing About, a fascinating book about pop music and the so-called "end of history", but also a book for Verso about rioting as political praxis. 



On top of - in parallel to -  all of that, Clover was a celebrated poet, winner of acclaim and awards. 

And a professor at UC Davis's Department of English. 

Here is a tribute to Joshua Clover by Carl Wilson. 

And here at Verso is another completely different tribute from one of JC's Marxist comrades. 

And at The Nation, an obituary from poet Juliana Spahr, about the Many Lives of Joshua Clover, in which it is revealed that he was connoisseur of gummy candies - which fits the Sugar High concept.

Here's a video where Joshua talks about "Roadrunner" with Eric Weisbard and Elizabeth Nelson.


The conversation continues with Nelson here

And below is something rather extraordinary,  a relic of the days when Twitter was a creative, freeform space: the tale, told at enormous length and unsparing detail, entirely through tweets, of the strange circumstances in which Joshua quit his job at Spin.   The events told take place in September 2001; the telling is happening in 2015.

  

#HowIQuitSpin 1. I moved to France on the day GWB was inaugurated. Email was a little squiggly in 2001 but good enough.

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015


#HowIQuitSpin 2. So I kept my Spin gig. The contract details matter.

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 3. Had a year contract that expected a certain # of words total (feat/review/column) & got paid monthly, direct deposit.

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015


#HowIQuitSpin 4. I have a cheap studio in Paris & I am getting CDs by FedEx & writing my fucking pieces & eating Berthillon. It's *the life*

 — Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015


#HowIQuitSpin 5. but bc I'm me I start to feel bad about it. My politics are clarifying in this period, intensifying, weighing on me.

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 6. I start to feel like I am just selling stuff to kids and its not really what I want to be doing and it doesn't feel right.

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015


#HowIQuitSpin 7. Worse each week. Hypocritical. Also I am less connected to Spin since they fired Craig Marks. So I start to think I'm done.

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015


#HowIQuitSpin 8. I think this a lot. And finally, maybe in May, I decide that I will get myself fired, bc quitting seems onerous and dull.

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 9. The world gives me a clear shot, Spin sends me a CD to review: Party Music by The Coup. Now this is a CD to get fired with.

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015


#HowIQuitSpin END OF CHAPTER ONE. Time to make dinner.

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015


#HowIQuitSpin 10. You know The Coup, Party Music. Ride the Fence. 8000000 Ways to kill a CEO. The best of RevLeft hiphop. I have 400 words.

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 11. For 200 words I describe the album very conventional. But the second half of the review shifts gears.

 — Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015


#HowIQuitSpin 12. The 2nd half says, if u just listen to this album, yr a poseur. It's a 5. There's only one way to take the album seriously

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015


#HowIQuitSpin 13. thats to go down to the Spin offices & throw a brick thru the window. I give the address. If u do this, I write, its a 10.

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 14. I assume they will fire me immediately. But if they don't I am ready to insist they print it which obvs they cant do...

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015


#HowIQuitSpin 15. & I will keep insisting & then they will fire me. Foolproof plan. Nonetheless Im anxious waiting 2 hear back from the ed.

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015


#HowIQuitSpin 17. He replies on schedule. It's Jon Dolan, sweet guy, They love it. They want to tweak a word or 2, totally minor, the usual.

 — Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 #HowIQuitSpin 18. This is the moment of true despair. It is then that I know I have lost. Had lost long ago.

 — Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015


#HowIQuitSpin 19. They know what I have been busily not knowing: it's all perfectly wrapped in the cellophane of irony, lacking all salience

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015


#HowIQuitSpin 20. it's just show and if you think what you say means anything you're kidding yourself. I have 3 days of black depression.

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 21. I decide I have to quit, even though its my only income. Spin's been good to me, paid me well, said nice things. But OK.

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015


#HowIQuitSpin 22. My weird feeling is this: that we have been gong out so long, I have to break up with Spin in person. It feels right.

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015


#HowIQuitSpin 23. But there's a problem: I don't really have the spare cash for a transatlantic flight. This is where U2 comes in.

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin END OF CHAPTER 2

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015


#HowIQuitSpin 24. so the problem is this: I need money to fly Paris>NewYork to quit Spin in person like the decent fellow I pretend to be.

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015


#HowIQuitSpin 25. I see that U2 is playing Parc Bercy the next month, August 18th.. So I concoct a plan. I arrange to get passes to the show

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 26. and not just passes, but the kind that let you into the LITERALLY HEART-SHAPED closed off area stage front.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 27. usually this area's for, I dunno, Nelson Mandela and whatever, but I am (still) a Spin senior writer and I have some moves

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 28. I make the moves, I get the passes, I wait for the show, In the meantime, I read this piece in the Village Voice.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 29. It says that Godard's Band of Outsiders, out of circulation for near 40 yrs, is being shown at Film Forum, end of summer.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 30. That seems like a good irony. I will fly Paris>NYC to see a French movie. Now I know my travel dates; just need the ticket

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 31. So Aug 18 rolls around. I walk down to Parc Bercy. It's warm and I am wearing a leather jacket, I don't know why.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 32. outside Bercy there are many U2 fans milling, some without tickets just as I hoped. I hold my special passes in the air.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 33. Eventually I find a flight attendant for American who loves U2 so much that she has come from Dublin w/o tickets.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 34. Couldn't be better. She trades me 250 in vouchers for a ticket and a special pass. I keep one and see the show.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 35. this is a terrible decision for I am heavy bored, "Kite" us the worst. Everything else is in a huge tie for second worst.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 36. I walk home sweating, reflecting on how U2 is probably the worst popular band in the world. I blame Jesus. Jesus and Bono.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 37. But the next day I take the vouchers to the AA offices and buy my ticket to NYC. It's during Band of Outsider's last week:

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 38. I schedule it so that I will fly in, have one day and night to myself and then it's time to quit the only job I have.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 39. we have an appointment and everything, Tuesday morning, in the building whose address I have suggested for rock-throwing.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin they of course don't know why I have made the appointment. Until then I do my work. Nothing to do but wait.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin END OF CHAPTER THREE

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 41. so the day comes to fly off to NYC; haven't been back since GWB took office. 2 months since Coup review, 3 weeks since U2

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 42. I stay with a friend in Stuyvesant Town, 20th & First in Manhattan. It's near the best bagel shop in the world, now closed

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 43. Head off to see Band of Outsiders, the only sixties Godard I have never seen. It is magical. I am filled with delight —

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 44. even though next morning I will have to trudge into the office of someone I don't like & say stuff that will aggravate her

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 45. but for now it's still Monday night and I am feeling good, a little jet-lagged. I walk east in the New York evening.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 46. there are posters along all the scaffoldings for CDs out the next day. I am oddly excited for the Tori Amos covers album.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 47. but I realize w great sadness I will not getting all my music for free anymore. I meet a friend at a bar on St. Marks.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin48. we talk about the movie, about Godard & Ashbery & Dylan, the 3 great postwar artists if you only count white men.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 49. we talk about friends & poetry (later we will start a small press) & then I get tired & there can be no more delaying.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 50. I go back to Stuyvesant Town & fold out the couch, woozy, my last night as an employed person. Strange Little Girls.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin END OF CHAPTER FOUR

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 51. I wake early on Tuesday bc still on Europe time. I've been a journalist for 5 years. Before that I borrowed money for rent

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 52. I recall this keenly. I recall sleeping on the banks of the Charles River. It is unclear to me I will get another job.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 53. I remind myself the world doesn't let mid-class white guys starve, that this tightrope always has a net if yr in my shoes.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 54. bc this is the terrible thing I have come to know. I try to let the terrible knowledge calm me down.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 55. its still a few hours before the meeting where I will quit Spin, it's maybe 7:30, so I decide to go for a run.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 56. I have a coffee, some water, hang around a minute, and I am ready to go. I have on this run many times.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 57. I head over to the East River & down, past the softball fields & soccer pitch, along the promenade.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 58. Traffic to my right past the kids and idlers in the parky areas, it's sunny and blue, I have my headphones on.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 59. release day for Tori & Jay-Z & that very Coup record I reviewed at the beginning of this story. I run past Houston.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 60. under the bridge & out into the sun, blue sky, pretty far dwntwn, running along. A plane hits the WTC. Then another one.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

END OF CHAPTER FIVE

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 61. theres nowhere to go from there but thats the thing, stories keep going when theres no place to go. A demoralizing fact.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 62. The peak comes too early or too late, there's no denouement or too much, it's a dying fall either way.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 63. and for all that 11:00 comes an hour after 10:00 no matter what. Even when such things seem impossible.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 64. sure enough 11 comes an hour after ten. In that period my host (a good friend) and I watch the crashes a hundred times.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 65. he doesnt have cable but theres that station w its antenna in Jersey. We watch from 11 to noon, noon to 1. We r transfixed

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 66. the same few seconds over & over. Periodically we try to reach my friend who works next to the WTC, but phones dont work.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 67. eventually we snap out of it a little, amid rumors of other attacks, planes unaccounted for. all air traffic is grounded.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 68. we decide we will go downstairs to the market to get supplies, staples. it seems somewhat crazy to leave the apartment.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 69. but we do, we go down to the supermarket. line is out the door into the street and everybody is terrified and chatty.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 70. its sort of the famous communality every1 talked about. its sort of like nervous talking when you're a rookie shoplifter.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 71. like just hoping it will smooth things over & you'll get home safe. Water is sold out; we get what we can & go back up.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 72. i havent even checked w Spin, theres no way to check,. I just assume our meeting is cancelled.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 73. like, holy shit, Al Quaeda *really* wants me to keep my gig as a music journalist.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 74. eventually we hear fr missing friend, ok but shook, trapped on subway under WTC for 5 hours, walked home to the upper west

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 75. there r reports that the air dwntwn is toxic, all the vaporized plastic. we think about r friend walking 6-7 miles home.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 76. eventually we decide, wednesday, to stop watching the crashes on tv and walk up to my friend's dad's place also upper west

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 77. it feels a but like an epic journey. we fortify ourselves at the best bagel shop in the world, which is open. in fact...

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 78. ...they are doing banner biz bc they r around the corner fr 13th precinct and all cops are on duty. it's *packed& w cops.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 79. everybody talks abt heroism of 1st responders but I feel the same, furious to be in a place filled w cops. still hate cops

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 80. we get our bagels & walk uptown, it takes forever. the air smells funny but this could just be a fantasy. we move slowly.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 81. lots of people on streets, all a little out of it. lots of nodding, semi-verbal communication, no actual conversations.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 82. finally we arrive. ive never met freinds dad. he moved from Australia years before. teaches at CUNY. im shy to meet him.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 83. but also we realize waiting for the apt door to open it will be the first real conversation abt the events we've had...

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 84. ...except w each other. Our discourse to this point has mostly been "holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit."

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 85. Tony opens the door. Shorter than I expected, graying red beard. Long pause. My friend says to his dad, what do you think?

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 86. This will literally be the first opinion we have heard not fed to us by the television. We have been utterly bewildered.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 87. Tony hesitates, smiles, a warm smile, a calming and infectious smile, says Well they had to come down sooner or later.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin END OF CHAPTER SIX

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 88. After a couple days we head back downtown. The subways are running again. GWB has told us that we need to shop for America

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 89. the planes still aren't flying and I have to rebook my flight back to France. First I reschedule my Spin meeting.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 90. Breaking up is hard. I schedule the meeting for a week later and then rebook my ticket home.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 91. I feel like the oddity of having flown into NYC on a caprice a day before 9/11 means I am probably a terrorist.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 92. this feeling will last for weeks, months. Its a time of paranoia. I miss four days of running, first time in a dozen years

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 93. when I start running again along the East River I keep seeing planes diving toward me from the corner of my eye & panic

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 94. can't stop thinking about the air toxicity which is a real thing but also a figure for the ambient fear gripping people.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 95. i visit the memorials in union square above the closed zone but i dont find them moving, just disturbing.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 96. its a historical genre, right? The periods when the line blurs between the missing and the dead. i think about Chile.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 97. People start to attack Muslims, possible Muslims taxi drivers shopkeepers people in turbans. Srsly fuck the human spirit.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 98. some days at least. Fiends go back to getting together, little dates, everything feels furtive, drinking starts at noon.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 99. it is a lost time. But the CDs come out, delayed a week. Tori, The Blueprint. But The Coup has its own special delay.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 100. bc The Coup original cover shows them blowing up the WTC. That's what they sent me back in June. pic.twitter.com/S70YTnJGON

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 19, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 101. so the review is on the street saying The Coup and I want you to throw a brick through the window of Spin offices.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 102. But the CD is nowhere to be found bc they are having to print new covers and now finally it is time.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 103. It is time for me to go into the offices I have suggested get bricked & walk into the managing editor's office and quit.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin END OF CHAPTER SEVEN

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 104. I go into the Spin offices. I sort of like the offices in the way you can if you have never had an office job.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 105. Wave to the staffers I know in editorial. I don't know anyone in advertising. I know a couple ppl in art, a flight down.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 106. one is daughter to a great poet; weve had a couple conversations, Shes told me some things. I dont see her this visit.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 107. After a min I go into glass-walled office of the managing editor. There r some things u should abt how I started at Spin.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 108. the 1st Spin staffers i met were a couple @ the time. They were visiting Bay Area. I had written sample column, thats it.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 109. I remember thinking how light-hearted + pleasant they were, I thought this specifically in comparison to the poets I knew

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 110. Later I would understand this was the affect that goes with having a well-paid job in media biz. But it was nice.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 111. So that's one thing. Soon after that then-managing ed Craig Marks called to offer me my first contract.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 112. Id never had a contract for anything. Never bargained over pay, just took whatever the job offered.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 113. Craig asked how much I wanted; when I answered he laughed, sd "Do you want a Spin baseball cap w that?" Laughed some more

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 114. it turned out I had asked for too little. He told me to ask for more. I did. He gave it to me. There was no baseball cap.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 115. Four yrs later I walk into the managing ed's office to quit but its not Craig, he was deposed the year before or so.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 116. In fact it's the woman fr that original couple I met. I think they had split up by then, not really sure. Lets say yes.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 117. I liked her & was afraid of her, which I think was common; u want that in a managing ed. The best thing I can say is...

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 118. she was a better writer than her ex, who wrote 1 great piece, under the byline Jo Jo Dancer aka The Gay Rapper,

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 119. now she had the office & there I was, after the Coup review, after U2, after flying Paris>NYC, after 9/11, trying to quit

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 120. It did not go well.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 121. Ive been saying managing ed but it WAS *executive ed*—that explains all the glass.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 122. perhaps a self-fulfilling prophecy but it was exactly like breaking up. I have my reasons. They were rejected.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 123. I was told I was making a difference, That in thirty years people would read the words, not the ads that surrounded them.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 124. I remember thinking no one is reading any of this in 30 yrs. And thinking, the reviews are the ads anyway is my point.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 125. remade my case; exec ed not having it. She wove btwn flattery & castigation. I did the thing one does in this situation.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 126. I said its not you its me.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 127. well, a version. i sd Spin was great noble & good, it was my problem & I accepted all responsibility. She let me go.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 128. And that was the end of it. Or so I thought. I was horribly mistaken.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin END OF CHAPTER EIGHT

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 129. On the way back to France the airport was odd. You'd expect "tense" or "scary" but mostly it seemed out of focus.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 130. I was certain I would be asked how I came to fly into NYC from overseas on 9/10. This seemed obvious. I prepped an answer

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 131. but no one asked. They just checked baggage emphatically. The Shoe Bomber hadnt gone down yet so we kept our shoes on.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 132. The last image I had of Paris was from seeing Band of Outsiders at Film Forum. Later I would write the DVD liner notes:

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 133. "It was just as Billy the Kid was dying in America that factories started appearing on the outskirts of Paris."

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 134. But the Paris I got back to bore little resemblance to this. There was a strange inconsistency in people's reactions.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 136. on the one hand everybody wanted to hear my story, not story of How I Quit Spin but story of Jets Flying Into Buildings

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 137. on the other, people prided themselves on being unflappable and prepared. There was an amused + gentle chiding of the USA

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 138. for having no experience w terrorism and going all spastic. In Paris everybody was all Yep, bombs in the subway, etc.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 139. In fact they had a protocol. By time I landed it had already been set in motion. It was called Plan Vigipirate. No really

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 140. Citoyens! It is important to be vigilant for pirates.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 141. Plan Vigipirate involved a lot of portable metal detectors at the entrances to civic buildings a/o tourist sites.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 142. but mostly Plan Vigipirate involves doing away w the public garbage cans. Understand: Paris had beautiful garbage cans.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 143. Park green cylinders w details, stylish & compact & everywhere, one of best things abt Paris. But easy to drop a bomb in

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 144. 1st thing that happens is the cans' mouths are sealed over with brass discs. The whole city. The discs are beautiful too

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 145 And effectively its like a garbage strike. Late Sept 2001 the Paris streets fill with trash. That's Plan Vigipirate.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 146. It fills w trash so much that even late at night you can tell where people walk bc the trash is kicked to the side.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 147. Negative space like a Rachel Whiteread sculpture, sort of clear where people go to & from work, trash everywhere else.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 148. So this is my life now. Unemployed, counting my centimes, walking thru garbage in Paris, recounting my NYC trip for wine.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 149. I go every day to the bookstore, now gone, Scottish clerk is obsessed w the bin Laden family, knows their Paris address.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 150. I try to cut down on ice cream, to write poems. I get an email fr Spin. They tell me I owe them sixteen thousand dollars.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin END OF CHAPTER NINE

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 151. Reader I will tell you what I know about tragedy. I mean, imho.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 152. Some say it is the misbegotten teen suicide pact, Bertha locked upstairs, Anna K throwing herself on the tracks.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 153. I say it is that a story might include the most extraordinary grand & immiserating episodes personal & world-historical

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 154. and for all that it will end by having to go through the details of a contract, the pettiest thing humans have invented.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 155. Imagine a play which is just the attorneys for Creon, Haemon, Isme & Antigone meeting for two hours. That is tragedy.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 156. My contract w Spin, u will recall fr Ch 1, involves monthly pay for which I am to write a certain # of words per year.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 157. if u divide by 12 u can derive expected words per month in my 3 categories: features+reviews+columns. Not Rocket Science.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 158. and reader I can assure you that as Sept ends I am exactly on pace. A tiny bit ahead. On this there is no disagreement.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 159. yet Spin, by which I mean the very exec ed who had so vigorously levied me to stay, says I owe them 16k or maybe 18k.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 160. lets recall that in 2015 dollars this is something like 2 million bucks. I mean if you are unemployed & broke anyway.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 161. I explain theyve made a mistake, I have completed the work expected of me. I offer to do 1 more column and a lead review.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 162. She sez u owe us 16k bc u still owe us X # of words. But even if that were true that would only account for half the 16k.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 163. they are double counting. They are charging me for both the words not yet written + pay for the remaining three months.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 164. this despite the fact I have not been paid for these months. I have been paid for what I have written and that's all.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 165. I tell her I have a lawyer. This is not strictly true. I have a friend who used to be in Salem 66 who has a law degree.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 166. I am in misery and terror every second. I can't bring myself to check my email. Paris continues to fill with garbage.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 167. she writes to inform me Spin has quote "a big bad lawyer" ready to go. I think to myself this is the worst breakup ever.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin END OF CHAPTER TEN

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 20, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 168. Corporate scare tactics are in truth pretty effective. I am paralyzed. That it comes from a friendly face is even scarier

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 169. I am at a loss. I don't feel like I am in an astonishingly beautiful city w 300 movie theaters where I gave museum passes

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 170. I feel isolated & nowhere, at a great distance fr the machine thats nonetheless churning w malice for me, far fr any help

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

#HowIQuitSpin 171. I understand that I am not being punished for an incomplete contract, for some imagined value to the company.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

  

  

#HowIQuitSpin 172. I am being punished bc I was holier-than-thou, that I intimated some ideal that put my former colleagues in a bad light.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 173. as if I had come out & said Spin was not a culture industry niche for witty phrasemaking music nerds but a marketing tool

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 174. basically I am being charged sixteen thousand dollars for being a buzzkill.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

  

#HowIQuitSpin 175. I go for walks. They replace the beautiful sealed public trash bins w little loop frames u can hang a see-thru bag from.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 176. They look a little bit like gibbets, the kind you draw when you play hangman. They are still there to this day.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 177. I listen to Incubus & Staind I listen to Kelis I listen to that Janet Jackson song w the amaze Ventura Highway sample.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

  

#HowIQuitSpin 178. I listen to lots of Aimee Mann & The Coup but mostly I listen to Bombs Over Baghdad & Destiny's Child. I am numb & stupid

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 179. I only have one move to make and I make it.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 180. As I mentioned earlier, I'd visited art department a couple times, a friend's daughter worked there. I'd heard a story.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 181. Im panicked by my own plan. 1 thing gives me courage: I dont have 16 grand. I dont have point 5 grand. I write an email.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 182. Let me tell you what the email did not say.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

  

#HowIQuitSpin 184. it did not say you let me walk out of your glass-walled office believing we had talked it through and were done.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 185. it did not say we were friends we took molly together at the first Coachella & anyway you know I don't have 16 grand.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 186. it did not say I know your lawyer could walk into a courtroom and snap my guitarist in half like a twig please have mercy

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 187. it did not say these things bc I knew there could only be one answer to these & that answer is you owe us sixteen grand

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 188. it said this: look, I dont think you want to be known as the magazine that sues its own writers. Moreover...

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 189. I dont think u want to be known as the mag that sues its own writers over contract numbers when it lets its art direcrtor

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 190. fly around Rio de Janeiro at New Years spending corporate money on helicopters & blow w/o suing them, y'know what I mean?

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 191. Then the waiting.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 192. While we are waiting let me tell you some things that are gone.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin 193. The cheap studio in Paris is gone. The World Trade Center is gone. The bar on St. Mark's is gone.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 194. Village Voice Bookstore in Paris. The beautiful trash cans. Ess-A-Bagel at 21st. The apt in Stuyvesant Town. Gone gone.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 196. the free CDs, free passes, some friends who didn't matter that much to me & some who did. Destiny's Child. All of this.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

  

#HowIQuitSpin 197. Its Autumn in Paris. The whole We Are All Americans vibe fades as the US goes long on bellicosity. pic.twitter.com/Ixrw92m1FW

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 198. The executive editor writes back.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin 199. Its words in an order that dont say anything. Then she suggests that I write a column & a lead review & we call it even.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

  

#HowIQuitSpin 200. & we're done. The story is over. Column already written. They assign the new Creed for review & that's it. Except a funny

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin THE END

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin afterword a. I'd been thinking at Creed, the interesting challenge of xtian rock crossing over to a straight audience —

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin b. how it meant disguising love songs to Jesus as hetero love songs with some lyrical disguise & coded language.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin c. how this was basically same situation queer bands had been in for long time, how both had to draw on the same conventions.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin d. so obviously I began my lead review, last assignment ever received from Spin, with this lede: Oh my god Creed is so gay.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

 

 

#HowIQuitSpin e. and it is THIS, they decide they cannot print. They kill the review.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015

 

#HowIQuitSpin f. I email the Voice who takes it, runs it, pays me. I never hear from my ex employer again. And that is how I quit Spin.

 

— Joshua Clov3r (@bookofriot) July 21, 2015




Thursday, November 16, 2023

RIP Bob Mack

Back in the early '90s - when I was first spending large chunks of time in New York, and getting a feel for the U.S. rockcrit scene - one of the larger voices around was a fellow called Bob Mack. Not sure if we ever met - if so, it was the briefest of encounters - but we did chat on the phone when I was doing a piece for iD on the Beastie Boys's burgeoning Grand Royal empire. They were pioneering that thing which is now endemic in hip hop on both the mainstream and the underground level, where what you are really selling is sensibility, a vibe that people want to plug into and wrap around themselves, something that can be done as much through a limited-edition T-shirt as a record. Bob Mack was the editor of Grand Royal the magazine,  another conduit between the Beasties and their fanbase. He'd first got friendly with them through annoying them, writing a piece in Spin that pegged them as past it: Mack described L.A., where they'd relocated, as "a rest home for retired rappers... the Beastie Boys". The Beasties counter-dissed with a couplet in the B-side "The Skills to Pay the Bills": "Workin' on my game cause it's time to tax /I'm on a crazy mission to wax Bob Mack".














One of Mack's best-known pieces of writing is "Confessions of A Rush Fan", an appreciation of the Canadian prog-metal power trio published in Spin in March 1992.  It was the beginning of that rock crit game where you shyly reveal the uncool passions of one's youth, back before you learned the rules of hip. In the process, creating a kind of inverted capital out of the earnest identifications of formative fandom - you became all the cooler for having once been so uncool.  

But Rush - that was a bold leap into the naffzone!

It caught my eye because - while never a Rush fan -  I'd always loved "The Spirit of Radio", a hit single in the U.K. Even now I still haven't got round to properly digesting their uuurv - a few attempts over the years resulted in a pretty quick strategic withdrawal. But I have gradually, through classic rock radio exposure rather than any exertion on my part, increased the number of Rush songs I like-love to three, maybe four: "The Spirit of Radio", "Tom Sawyer", "Limelight", and at a push "Subdivisions". The full-blown Rand-y epic-ness, I may never be ready for. 

The piece is below - for more on Bob Mack's life and career, and the circumstances of his death, check out this tribute by David Kamp at Airmail



Confessions Of A Rush Fan

Bob Mack Justifies His Love For Canada's Prog-Rock Pariahs

Spin, March 1992


Rush?

Yes, Rush. Not the movie or the B.A.D. II song. Certainly not "Rush Rush" by Paula Abdul or "Rush Street" by Richard Marx. And not even Frank Marino and Mahogany Rush. Just plain ol' eternally unfashionable, the-guy-with-a-high-voice-singing-scary-songs Rush.

So what in God's name is it doing in SPIN, a publication nominally devoted to alternative music? Well, I could go on about how Rush really is an alternative for lots of suburban loners, at least in the context of classic-rock overkill. About how it is the ultimate punk band for people who thought punk was bogus. But basically the bottom line is this: Even though you may think Rush is uncool, it's influenced a lot of the bands and artists that you probably think are cool.

Not the old fogies like Randy Newman, Nick Lowe, and Billy Joel (who apologized to Geddy Lee for missing the band's L.A. shows a few years ago). And not the cheeseball metal dudes like Queensryche who, for example, now employ Rush's former producer, lighting director, and video director. We're talking about some of the more critically praised and commercially successful groups of our era.

It all started a couple of years ago at the same L.A. shows that Billy Joel missed. Vernon Reid of Living Colour told Neil Peart that Rush had shown him that "a band could make it the way they wanted to." Peart was profoundly flattered because, he recalls, "I was so worried five years ago that we wouldn't leave any mark, that it was all for nothing."

Pretty soon anybody who played smart hard rock was being compared to the Canadian power trio: Metallica, Voivod, King's X, Faith No More, Jane's Addiction, Fishbone, Primus (Rush's current opening act), and even Guns N' Roses. Hip cartoonists Los Bros Hernandez created a kid drummer in Love And Rockets who wore a NEIL PEART IS RAD T-shirt; alt-rock goddess Kim Deal of the Pixies often wears her Rush tour T-shirt on stage. Flea of the Red Hot Chili Peppers even got his start in a band called Anthym (probably taking its "y" from the first name of Ayn Rand, individualist author of Anthem, which became the title of a 1974 Rush song).

While it's almost understandable that fellow musicians have come to give drummer-lyricist Peart, bassist-vocalist-keyboardist Lee, and guitarist Alex Lifeson their due, it's nothing short of a miracle that the critics are starting to come around, too. When I wrote my first defense of Rush for Village Voice in 1985, I was responding to colleague Chuck Eddy's slurs on the band. By the decade's end, Eddy had come around, calling it "the secret rock critic influence of 1989-90" and adding Sinead O'Connor, Midnight Oil, and Megadeth to the list of disciples.

And yet, if 1991 was the year that Rush returned with an album, Roll The Bones, that entered the Billboard chart at No.3, tour dates that sold out during a depression, and an updated sound that included a rap that wasn't half as goofy as Michael Jackson's or Michael Stipe's, I still couldn't help feeling a bit ambivalent . . .

"Neil, I hope you realize that your face is dangerously close to a pair of Damn Yankees promotional panties," I say.

Neil Peart, who is sitting in my sparsely-furnished apartment, laughs and launches into a good-natured anecdote about the band. In addition to ambivalence, I feel guilty about how lucky I am to have the lanky drummer over to my pad. Rush fanatics would give their eyeteeth to me in my sitch, and there I was trying to play it cool. It is the night off between the band's two shows at Madison Square Garden last December. Nursing a cold, Peart is nonetheless in good humor, especially while imitating a typical girlfriend at a Rush show. "Sometimes, you see this [exaggeratedly feigns sleep]. Sometimes this [tugs on sleeve]. But the other day Geddy and I saw this one girl literally hitting this guy."

With this in mind, I take the cutest young intern I can find at our office to the next night's show. She enjoys but doesn't love it and is amazed at how "well-behaved" the audience is. She is, however, impressed by how "real" Peart is when we meet him backstage. The only celebs present are John McEnroe and Tatum O'Neil. O'Neil says, "I really liked your drum solo" to Peart, who smiles and mumbles some pleasantries while I whisper, "Excuse me, but I've got to go call the gossip columnist at the New York Post." He hits me.

After spending the entire day in his hotel room reading the Sunday Times, Peart orders two glasses of dry sherry, tells me how he's practicing to records recorded by a Brazillian drummer named Milton Banana these days, and puts on Maceo Parker's 11-minute instrumental version of "It's A Man's World", retitled "Children's World."

Peart is seen as the ogre of the group, and granted, Lifeson (his pastimes are golfing and Pearl Jam) and Lee (rotisserie baseball and Nat "King" Cole) are far less intense; but it's Peart who wanted to do the rap, and who is able to drop trendy names, like Massive Attack into the conversation. Even so, he's still Neil Peart, whose rugged individualism makes Metallica's James Hetfield seem like a Commie in comparison.

I had set out to really grill the guy, but from the outset he takes control of the conversation. First he lays down the premises: Peart believes in "standards of quality" and "progress, though not linear"; for the most part, "there are no failures of talent, only failures of character"; it's also true that "first we must acquire the virtues and then eliminate the vices." He then quotes Duke Ellington's dictum that "there are only two types of music -- good and bad."

Eventually, though, we get more specific. Talking about the situation in Eastern Europe, the man who wrote "Free Will" concedes, "If I had been born in Bulgaria, no matter how much free will I'd have wished to apply, it would've been worthless." It is this hopelessness, which Peart also finds in the AIDS situation, that fills him with enormous resentment. "My response is always anger. It's so gratuitous. There's no reason, no fault, no blame."

I wondered if this cosmic capriciousness frustrated his white, Western, male, middle-class, and middle-brow nature. "The basic questions I ask in Roll The Bones -- 'Why are we here?' 'Why does it happen?' -- are the wrong questions. It's 'What can we do about it?'"

The Maceo jam climaxes, and I tell Peart that when I saw the sax master recently in concert he said that funk was "happy music." In those terms, where does he see Rush's music fitting in?

"At it's best, it's inspiring. Who's that guy in Seattle that pitched a no-hitter? He'd played his drums that day and when he was out there pitching, he was thinking of Rush songs. When I was writing 'The Pass' [a 1989 song about teen suicide], some kids told me that people who are truly suicidal listen to Pink Floyd. Rush is seen as hopeful music."

For the many who see Rush's music as hopeless, the pyrotechnic sticksman has a surprising tolerance. "It's fine for people to say they hate us -- our music is too busy, too self-absorbed elevated. Or they hate Geddy's voice. Fine. That's a taste thing."

Actually, it's more than a taste thing. After all, as the Duke would ask, "Is it good or is it bad?" At this point, Peart stops backpedaling and defends his honor. "Rhythm is the basis of a lot of musical styles. To Rush, it's just an element. That's why we're accused of being too busy, too convoluted, too far-reaching. Yes, we're restless, and yes, our work is uneven -- but no one can ever question the sincerity of the attempt."

No one was questioning the sincerity of the attempt, at least not in this room. I just wanted to know if Rush's '70s-style eclecticism was still relevant. Back in high school, it certainly had been. With its mix of power pop, barroom piano, and mock reggae, "The Spirit Of Radio" had been the prefect antidote to the skinny-tie ska geeks and anemic new wavers. But is the funk, folk, and rap of "Roll The Bones" just as effective in 1992? Peart, unflappable as ever, is free of doubt.

"'The Spirit Of Radio' is a valid musical gumbo, even now. The concept was to combine styles in a radical way to represent what radio should be. I think we really nailed that with 'Roll The Bones' as well. And it's happening on the fringe of pop music -- like Faith No More. They're not afraid to head off in a strange direction within a song. But it's still unacceptable in the mainstream. There's this strange intolerance among music fans."

Valid musical gumbo? I'd still buy that for a dollar.





^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Talking about Rush... here's an enjoyable interview with Geddy Lee on the occasion of the publication of his memoir My Effin' Life. By Rob Tannenbaum, another of those rockcrits whose byline I clocked when I started to live half the year in NYC. 

Tuesday, July 18, 2023

Tony Marcus - Big Beat (Spin, April 1998)

Here's a terrific reported piece by the great dance music writer Tony Marcus that I assigned him when I worked at Spin as a senior editor in 1998. 

The printed version - published as "Meaty, Beaty, Big and Bouncy" - is slightly different as it went through the typical magazine process of many people poking noses in, last minute excisions for space, etc.  

Below, I have corrected one of my own howlers that made it all to the magazine stands. Tony came up with a lovely bit of wordplay -  Grand Theft Audio. Unfamiliar with the term Grand Theft Auto at that time (not watched enough crime films I guess) I changed it to, wince, Grand Audio Theft. Doh!

The photos by Jake Curtis were great too - fun to caption - and I wrote up a sidebar of top Big Beat  tunes and Big Beat ancestors. All together, one of the highlights of my brief time at Spin (others would be getting Peter Shapiro to explain what a dubplate was to the readership, in a profile of Grooverider, and a wonderfully designed and collectively written celebration of Kraftwerk on the eve of their North American tour. This feature prompted a letter to the magazine that really pleased me, given that the publication was going through a period of excessive snark: "Finally, a piece in Spin written by people who appear to love music". )


IT'S BIG -  BUT IT'S NOT CLEVER

Spin, April 1998

 by Tony Marcus

 

You can tell as much about a dance  scene from the atmosphere  in the club's toilets as on its dancefloors. To walk into the men's room of the Big Beat Boutique  in Brighton, England, is to enter  a house of lunacy. For a start, there are just as many  girls here  as guys, all waiting to get  into the sole cubicle. Every time someone  leaves, there's a spontaneous  cheer from the massive line, as if  we're all attending some kind of sporting event. There's also a camera crew--who all appear to be completely  blasted on Ecstasy, red-faced and sweating--filming  a boy who's breakdancing in front of the sink.

       "All you fucking men should get out of here and leave the loo to the ladies," snarls  an attractive but definitely   trashed-out-of-her-box girl. "That's great  love," grins the cameraman, "Can you do that again so we can film you?"  Meanwhile, the boy next to me at the urinal has got problems:  both his hands  are occupied holding a cigarette and a bottle of lager. The girl beside  him helps out by unzipping his  fly.  "That's it, darling," he purrs. "Now if you can just roll back my foreskin." He starts to urinate. She giggles. "Thanks," he sighs, "that's lovely."

         The  Boutique's dancefloor  is pretty  unzipped too -a typically unclassifiable Brighton crowd of art-students, S&M devotees, ravers, mods and queers, all buzzing  on diverse cocktails  of drink and drugs. The crowd ring  DJ Norman Cook in a halo  of wasted human energy. Cook--better known as Fatboy Slim-- is also "off his tits", having knocked back a naughty pill of Ecstasy just before going onstage. Stopping a record to scratch a single beat in and out of a rising sonic storm,  Cook doles  out  euphoria with just a flick of his slender  fingers. The noise is incredible, something akin to AC/DC at their most tumultous, but freeze-framed --the DJ cutting and retriggering the powerchord to end  all worlds. To a chorus  of teen-screams , Cook gives his audience  the rave'n'roll rush they crave. He cuts the big beat  in and out, in and out, then releases  it to rampage  through the speakers. And everyone  goes absolutely bonkers.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

DJ/producer Norman Cook--a/k/a Fatboy Slim-- is currently  the  cool  ruler of Big Beat. Pioneered  by The Chemical Brothers, Big Beat's mix'n'blend of hip hop breakbeats, rock riffs and techno  noise is blaring out of the radio and gnawing its way into the charts. In its homeland, Big Beat is being  hyped by the English music  press and record  industry  as the Next Big Thing after Britpop, while in America, it's already  made  its way onto MTV, both as buzzbin videos and as irresistibly  peppy  background  music. Chemicals-soundalikes The Propellerheads  have just been signed by Dreamworks for a reportedly Prodigy-size  figure.             

Where's Britpop foundations  are whiter-than-white  Sixties pop, Big Beat's roots are a confused tangle  of techno, jungle,  punk, funk and heavy  metal. Unlike  electronica's   deliberately   faceless  underground producers, though,  Big Beat  artists have embraced Britpop's doctrine  of stardom-at-all-costs; they  like  to play  live and love to talk about their drink-and-druggy  exploits to the music press.   And "the kids" lap it up. Big Beat  appeals  to ravers, because  it's compatible with taking illegal stimulants  and dancing  like a maniac. But it also appeals  to rockers:  they can scour  the  music  press for tales of hell-raising mayhem,  a la Oasis, and unlike  rival new forms of post-rave music like techstep jungle  or speed garage, Big Beat  doesn't sound avant-garde  or alienating  or "too black". In fact, it's as familiar as your most dog-eared albums: a pirate-raid  on pop history, a  Grand  Theft Audio that  ransacks  the most  tried-and-tested licks  from Lee Perry, Grandmaster Flash, Led Zeppelin and Edwin Starr.

       "Today's forward-looking music  is about  plunder," declares Chemical Brother  Ed Simons. The Chemicals' entire  career  has been a massive extravaganza  of  piracy, whose booty includes  hip hop's block-party breakbeats, jungle's  complex rhythm-programming and acid house's hypnotic  bass-riffs. Even their first name, The Dust Brothers, was stolen outright  from the American production duo behind the Beastie Boys's early records  and Beck's Odelay.  The Chems' spirit of shameless  thievery informs everything about Big Beat, even though Simons and partner  Tom Rowlands now distance  themselves  from their bastard child, preferring  to consider  themselves  "mature"  album  artists closer  in spirit to psychedelic  rock. 

"My problem with the Big Beat  records  is that everything's done for the DJ," complains  Simons. "It's all huge drops and builds, whereas  a good record should groove a bit more."

            Simons has unwittingly  put  his finger on one of the  best  things about  Big Beat: the way its crescendo-crammed tracks   are  designed  as tools for the DJ, as raw material  that the turntabilist  can plug into the mania  of the drug-dancefloor  interface. These are the reasons why Norman Cook is making Big Beat and why--unlike the Chemical Brothers--he enthusiastically embraces the term.

            Cook is a perfect  icon  for a sound based around  a Frankenstein-like  patchworking  of dismembered  bits  of other musics. Back in the mid-Eighties, he was the drummer  in indie-janglepop  hitmakers The Housemartins. Swerving in a seemingly  unlikely  dancefloor direction with his next group Beats International, Cook scored a UK Number One  with a dubbed-up remake  of SOS Band's "Just Be Good To Me," before retreating underground, where  he crafted a series of  clubland smashes  in a plethora of styles and using a number of aliases: Freakpower, Pizzaman, Mighty Dub Katz, and now Fatboy Slim.

            "I  try to make underground music, but it always comes  out as pop," he says. These involuntary  crowd-pleasing  instincts stem, he says, from his desire to connect with the female side of his audience.  "I make music for girls," he admits. Where techno purist boys, he complains, get really  hung up on a specific kick-drum  or synth sound, "girls just  like a good tune. Until recently I lived with three women. When I was working in my studio, if they'd didn't come  in and say 'what's this?", I'd always scrap the tune. That's the difference  between  pop and underground music."

Norman Cook's home--nicknamed House of Love, and decorated with a collection of Smiley-face  memorabilia  from the  early  days of UK rave --is in Brighton, the seaside town about  an hour's drive from London that  has its own counterculture of artists, musicians, writers, actors and weirdos. If anywhere  is Big Beat's party  capital, it's Brighton. Not only does it boast the  Boutique  club, it's also the base for Skint Records, whose roster includes Fatboy Slim, Lo-Fidelity All Stars, Bentley Rhythm Ace, and Hardknox.

            The Skint sound is a hyper-eclectic  mash-up  of hip hop boombastics  and stadium-rock dynamics.  "When I DJ, I'll play anything --hip hop, disco, house, drum and bass, " explains Damian Harris, Skint's boss and producer  under  the name Midfield General. "Big Beat DJ-ing  is more like listening to a jukebox, rather than a steady  flow of mixing. I used to work in a record store for years, where I learned that  there's probably  25%  of any genre that's any good. So I play the  good bits from everything. The only  common  denominator  is that they've got to have a really  big beat."

            It sounds open-minded, but some would accuse Big Beat  of parasitism--creaming off the the crowd-pleaser  elements  from different sounds  and scenes, but without ever innovating  anything  for itself. Genres like jungle, house and techno  evolve through tunnel-vision focus and needlepoint    intricacy. "I have a helluva lot of respect  for musical purists," concedes Harris. "It's true that you need that focus for the music to progress. But on the other hand, it's frustrating that anyone involved in that process seems to get blinkered  towards  other forms of music. "  

Blinker-free, Big Beat uses Technics turntables and sampling technology  to steal anything that isn't nailed down. In the digital age, where any recorded source  can be converted to zeros and ones, this means that everything  is fair game. A true Big Beat brigand loots across the spectrum of  rap and rave sub-genres, ignoring the class and race boundaries  that separate  different scenes.

            In the early Nineties, British house and techno were shaped to heighten the  rush and buzz of Ecstasy. DJ's favoured long, fluidly mixed sets that enhanced the sensurround, cocooning sensations caused by  MDMA. Big Beat's jagged eclectism reflects a post-E dance  culture. Kids are fuelling their fun with polydrug cocktails  that may include  any  or all of the following --E, amphetamine, cocaine, ketamine, 2CB, pot, booze,acid, psylocibin mushrooms,  downers like Temazepam,  and so on. Big Beat music  similarly jumbles up sounds that were originally  associated with specific drugs:  marijuana/jungle, MDMA/house, cocaine/garage, amphetamine/hardcore, alcohol/rock. 

"I  do think England's love affair with Ecstasy  is probably  on the wane," says Harris. "A lot of people have got bored with E, and they can't handle  the  comedowns. I'd say Big Beat's drugs of choice  are lager and amyl nitrate."

            The amyl connection goes back to the birthplace of Big Beat--a now-legendary club called  the Heavenly  Social, where the Chemical Brothers  were resident DJ's. Back in the club's 1994-95 heyday,  nobody used the term Big Beat, though. Instead, people talked  about "amyl house", a reference to the club's most popular  high: the inhalant  'amyl nitrate', whose fumes offer an instant  peak  akin to Ecstasy  but much  briefer.  

A small Sunday  night  club  in the basement  of  a Central London pub , the Social was the  brainchild of Heavenly, a record  label /artist  management and PR company  famous for its hedonistic  punk-meets-rave  attitude."We started the Social in August '94," recalls  Heavenly's Robin Turner, "because the Chemicals  were  DJ-ing  all these back-rooms  in glitzy house  clubs. Ed and Tom would be spinning  in the back  to about  30 of their friends --people  who looked like freaks and  who wanted to go out and get  fucked-up  on pills, then wake up the  next  morning  covered in bruises and think  'Oh God, how did I get that?  Must've jumped off the speaker stacks!'". Turner  decided that somebody  had to take  The Chemical Brothers  backroom scene and turn it into the main event. 

            Even though the  200-capacity Heavenly Social  was tiny  compared with other London  clubs, it rapidly  acquired a high profile. On a typical night -- or so the media mythology  runs --you'd find Tricky and Paul Weller  propping up the bar with Manchester  indie-dance band The Charlatans,  and various members  of Primal Scream, Oasis and the Stones Roses sharing a drink or three. Alongside  these Britpop luminaries  were many  of Big Beat's future prime movers: Mark Jones and Sarah Francis respectively  founders of the currently  hot  labels Wall of Sound and Bolshi), while Richard Fearless (now in Death In Vegas), Jon Carter (a/k/a Monkey  Mafia) and Norman Cook shared the DJ booth with the Chemicals. 

Big Beat's   ethos of mixing up the styles and listening  without prejudice  is admirable.  But when it comes to mixing up different races and classes,  Big Beat  looks less impressive than it sounds. Slip inside Sonic Mook  Experiment,  a new club promoted by longtime  London scenester Sean McClusky. The DJ, Barry Ashworth is sliding dancehall ragga into hard-nosed hip hop. In the basement , a crap band think they're the Beastie Boys, a skinny white boy who can't sing trying to chat  and flow over tightly  programmed  breakbeats  and sprawling guitar feedback.. Sonic Mook's crowd is wearing the  Big Beat uniform: top of the range Nikes, camouflage  trousers, pencil skirts, spanking new Levi's, fur-collared parka  coats, and  fleeces.  They  dance  to hip hop, jungle and dancehall reggae. But the weird, unnerving thing is that the crowd is almost entirely white.  

"I can't fucking stand it here," offers a boy  in the toilets, in between  dabs  from a sachet of pink speed, "Everyone's wearing black fashion and moving to black beats but the only black people  in the club are the three Ecstasy dealers. It just doesn't feel right."

            It's tempting to take Sonic Mook as a symbol  of what's wrong with Big Beat --a mainly  white, self- consciously  cool, media/music industry set turning  onto old skool hip hop (Schoolly D, Eric B) ten years after the fact. Racial tourism is a long running syndrome in British pop, going back to the Mods with their passion for black American R&B. But there's another  twist to this story: Big Beat is in many  ways a replay of another British sound from six years ago -- the  multiracial, working class style of rave music  known as "hardcore". Like Big Beat, 1991-92 hardcore was made from fast breakbeats, dub bass and zany samples, a hybrid that eventually evolved into jungle. Which makes Big Beat something  like jungle's unsophisticated cousin--sharing  the latter's hectic breakbeats  and heavy bass, but favouring much more simplistic rhythm programming.

  "Jungle producers  come up with some great  production tricks, but as music I just can't get into it," says Norman Cook. "It's all very intelligent. I don't really do intelligent  music, I'm more into mindless boogie." 

"Mindless boogie"  just  about  sums up Big Beat's  undeniable appeal--disco's glitterball  cheese  fused with Seventies greaseball rock-riffage. As such it recalls  an earlier  phase  of British rave'n'roll:  Manchester  bands  like  Happy Monday  and Stones Roses, tracks like Primal Scream's "Loaded" and EMF's  "Unbelievable".    Like the early Nineties  indie-dance  crossover bands, Big Beat's star DJs and groups--Jon Carter/Monkey Mafia, Derek Dahlarge,  Dub Pistols, Death In Vegas-- fill  column inches  with drug talk and outrageous  anecdotes.

Often it seems like Big Beat DJ's and artists are more  out-of-it than  the kids on the  dancefloor.  It's chemical  excess  as a spectator  sport, and the opposite of club and rave culture, where DJs know how to tantalise  the drugged  bodies  of their audiences  but  are  usually   sober themselves while on the job.

 "With Big Beat, it's the other  way round, " confirms Norman Cook . "It's the old rock'n'roll thing--you want the stars to be larger than life and more  fucked up than you are."

            Like rock'n'roll stars, Big Beat DJs get groupies  too. Take the Girls Brigade, a gang of female London media-types  who frequent the scene. Their exploits--which  include  sharing LSD with The Headrillaz,  attending debauched  post-Boutique sessions  at Norman Cook's Brighton apartment, and vomiting at the feet of the Chemical Brothers during a Heavenly  Social boat party--make  the  girl-hooligan's  behavior  in the Prodigy's "Smack My Bitch Up" video look relatively  tame. 

"From a groupie's point  of view, Big Beat  is wicked," says Miranda, one Brigade  member. "The Big Beat  lot are people  you can get pissed with, 'cos they like to get really  pissed. It's not hard to end up back at a DJ's flat after a club. I've met loads of people  who've shagged  Jon Carter."

            Although its boorish antics seem to cross gender  divides, Big Beat has become synonomous with the British phenomenon known  as  New Lad. Behaviorally  equivalent  to the fratboy,  the lad is  working class rather than a college  student.  A backlash  against the Eighties notion of the sensitive, feminized New Man, the New Lad has spawned an entire industry of masculine-and-proud-of-it   products  and media in the UK. Perhaps the most successful is the huge-selling magazine Loaded-- named after  the Primal Scream rave''n'roll anthem "Loaded" and its Roger Corman biker-movie sample "we wanna get loaded and have a good time".

            New Lad is also  a form of class tourism: middle  class English males  envying  the coarse vitality of their working class counterparts, aping their pleasures  in a cartoonish flurry of  soccer, porn, lager and kebabs  puked up on the pavement  in the wee hours of Sunday morning. Happy Mondays's Shaun Ryder and Bez were proto-New Lads; Noel and Liam Gallagher are Superlads. When Noel collaborated with The Chemical Brothers  on "Setting Sun", it was the cultural  coup  of the decade --Britpop's delinquency fused with rave's 'aving it hedonism.

            Apres "Setting Sun", the deluge.  "You've got groups coming up now like  Regular Fries and Campag Veloct," says Heavenly's Robin Turner, "all trying to approximate The Chemicals  or The Prodigy, who themselves were dance bands  trying to approximate   rock bands."  

Lo-Fidelity All Stars--Skint Records  bright hopefuls for 1998-- typify the new breed. Performing at a series of gigs organised around weekly  music paper  New Musical Express's Brat Awards, the All Stars combine rave music's sequenced rhythms  with live musicianship. Or at least  the  appearance   of live playing:  for all the presence of a  drummer  onstage,  most of the audible rhythm comes is programmed. Despite  the fact that the  euphoric highpoints of their show  come  from the machine-beats  and samples  (like the  vocal intro from The Breeders's "Cannonball" that's looped on their single "Disco Machine Gun"), the Lo-Fidelity  All Stars project  themselves as a rock band;  the singer emulates  Liam Gallagher's surly cool. And the All Stars are received as rock by the  audience, who mosh violently  as if attending an Offspring gig.

             "It's great that indie bands have realised you don't have to be rigidly stuck to the guitar/bass/drums/vocals format, that you don't have to sit there and think  it's enough to rewrite the Beatles songbook," says Turner. "If that's what Big Beat  has inspired  then that's fucking brilliant." 

Not  everyone  agrees. Dance  purists think Big Beat  is just rock music tarted up with ideas  ripped off techno and house. They think Big Beat's shift of emphasis from sonic innovation to rockstar  posturing is a regressive move;  Jon Carter's forthcoming  cover version of Creedence  Clearwater   would confirm their worst fears. Trad rock fans, for their part, are not  placated by  these  nods to rock's heritage. They dismiss Big Beat as inane party music without  songcraft or meaningful lyrics, let alone the redemptive power and resonance of your Verves or Radioheads.  And it's true: despite  the critical plaudits,  Big Beat's long-players  lack the widescreen emotional  range and depth you expect from a great  album. Like dance  music, Big Beat  reaches  its  aesthetic peak on the 12 inch single;  even a brilliant  Big Beat LP like Fatboy Slim's Better Living Through Chemistry is more like  a greatest  hits collection than an album.

            Big Beat could so easily  alienate  both sides of the pop divide its music  rampages  across. But at the moment, it seems  all-conquering. It  uses rock'n'roll's hell-for-leather  attitude to show up how so much of today's electronic  dance music is po-faced and purist;  it  deploys  club culture's sonic science  to make trad guitar bands  look terribly dated. 

And that science  is all about  triggering  the rush, the quintessential sensation that  unites  house, techno , hardcore and jungle.  The rush is the peak of the drug-DJ-dancefloor  interface, a synergy  of MDMA, music and sheer adrenalin.  Not all club musics service the rush (trip hop and ambient  interface  better with marijuana's  langor,  for instance.) But Big Beat rushes--faster even than its ancestor-sources,  in fact, its velocity  boosted  by amyl  nitrate's heart-bolting metabolic-acceleration  effect.

            Norman Cook is king of Big Beat because  he knows how to manipulate the rush. His  druggernaut  remixes  of  Cornershop's "Brimful of Asha' and Wildchild's "Renegade Master"--two  records that united rock papers and dance mags in delirious praise-- aren't  deep or meaningful or any of that classic rock crap; nothing exists but strategies  for excitement,  a collection of climaxes  and multiple  orgasms. 

"The  less time I spend on a record,  the better  it seems to work," grins Cook. "It's about capturing the moment. I don't try and make  it too complicated." 

From punk to funk, rockabilly  to rave, simplicity  is what  counts, immediacy  is all. Big Beat, for all its faults, understands this.

            See, the truth is that the greatest  secret  never told about  rave culture was that it was always more  rock'n'roll than rock itself. Instead of the rock star living out your wildest  dreams for, you were your own private Jagger  chemically-hurled  across  an  ocean   of delirious peaks and insatiable  desires. Commandeering  rave's pills and thrills, its rushes and explosions,  but  packaging  those  illicit  energies inside the appearance  of rock  form, Big Beat  is 1998's number  one  bullet.

Which leave just one million-dollar question:  Are you gonna bite?


^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

SIX OF THE BIGGEST BIG BEATS EVER

            measured by Simon Reynolds

 

FATBOY SLIM

"Punk To Funk", from Better Living Through Chemistry (Skint/Astralwerks)

            Of all the Fatboy's classics--"Going Out of My Head", "Everybody Needs A 303", "Song For Lindy", the remix of Wildchild's "Renegade Master"--"Punk To Funk" is Norman Cook's finest moment, by a whisker. For a small eternity, it's just chunky breaks and phat-verging-on-obese bass that  wobbles  like  love handles  at a Weight-Watchers disco, then a cheesadelic  EZ-listening  horn section fades up, huffing and puffing and blowing the roof off the sucker.

 

THE CHEMICAL BROTHERS

"Loops of Fury", from the Loops of Fury EP (Junior Boy's Own/Astralwerks)

            The Chems at their most crudely  rabble-rousing--a black-and-white riot of stuttering beats, convulsive  fuzzguitar-riffage and floorquaking electro sub-bass, plus sampled crowd uproar designed to trigger  a feedback loop in the audience. Cheesy and proud of it, the Chemical Brothers have yet to meet an old skool rap or classic rave cliche  they haven't wanted to steal. But when their collage of potent  cliches sounds so electrifying, who cares?  Extra back-in-the-day  points for the title's twist on Rakim's "Lyrics of Fury".

 

UBERZONE

"The Brain", from the Space Kadet EP (City of Angels)

            The best producer  working in "funky breaks"--America's  equivalent to Big Beat--California's  Uberzone  distinguishes  himself from rivals like The Crystal Method and DJ Icey by bringing  a thrillingly  chilly early Eighties  electro  feel to the party. As with all the best  rave fodder, every hook  in "The Brain" works as both melody  and rhythm: chiming   tablas, brain-eraser scratching, itchy-and-squelchy acid-house squiggles, icy plinks redolent  ofl early Nineties English bleep-and-bass acts like Unique 3, and pressure-drop  basslines   that rival jungle's low-end seismology.

 

RASMUS

"Afro (Blowing in the Wind)" from the Mass Hysteria EP (Bolshi)

            Old skool rap sliced  and diced into locked-groove  glossolalia, 78 r.p.m. squeaky voices, scratchadelic  mayhem, farty basslines  and jittery beats--Rasmus   is shaping up as the most boisterous Big Beat  provider after Fatboy Slim.

 

BENTLEY RHYTHM ACE

"Return of the Hardcore  Jumble  Carbootechnodisco Roadshow", from Bentley

Rhythm Ace (Skint/Astralwerks)

            BRA may be a bunch of jackanapes, but  they've sho'nuff got skillz. This is simply one of the best dancefloor  productions of the late Nineties, a jamboree of  pilfered elements  each of which is there  purely to put a grin on your face and a wiggle  in your hips. As with Fatboy's "Going Out Of My Head", the killer hook  is a frenetic powerchord-riff that  draws the dots between 1966 mod's amphetamine-frenzy  freakbeats and 1998 Big Beat's pills-and-Pils fueled pandemonium.

 

MONKEY MAFIA--"Lion In The Hall" (Deconstruction)

            Madcap drum-rolls, stereophonic  tomfoolery, dancehall  reggae chants "timestretched" jungle-style so that  the sample seems to crack apart, more percussion than you can shake a stick at--DJ/producer Jon Carter stoops to all manner  of audio-stunts  and cheap tricks in order to conquer the dancefloor.

 

BIG BEAT ANCESTORS

 

JEAN-JACQES PERREY -- "E.V.A" (Vanguard, 1970)

PIERRE HENRY & MICHEL COLOMBIER---"Psyche Rock", from Messe Pour Le Temps

Present (Philips, 1968)

            These two tracks--one  by EZ-listening Moog-maniac  Jean Jacques Perrey, the other by musique  concrete  composer  Pierre  Henry--sound like the music playing in the discotheque  scene in every swingin' Sixties movie you ever heard: Booker T & the MG's hopped up on acid-spiked punch, fatback funky shuffle grooves daubed  with woogly synth-gurgles  and electro-acoustic blips. Non-coincidentally, "E.V.A" and "Psyche Rock" were both remixed by Fatboy Slim last year.

 

COLDCUT-- "Beats + Pieces" (Ahead Of Our Time, 1987)

            Although  their current  Ninjatune  output gets filed as "trip hop", back in '87 Coldcut pioneered the British fad for "DJ records". Taking their cues from the cut-ups of Steinski and Mantronix, Coldcut --alongside similar crews like S'Express, Bomb The Bass, M/A/R/R/S and Renegade Soundwave--used  cheap samplers  to make breakbeat-and-wacky-soundbite  collages. As funky as hip hop but fast-paced enough to be played alongside  house's machine  beats, these DJ records were Big Beat  avant  la lettre.

 

DJ TRAX--"We Rock The Most", from I Man, I DJ EP (Moving Shadow, 1992)

HYPER-ON EXPERIENCE--"Thunder Grip", from Deaf In The Family EP (Moving

Shadow, 1993)

            Hip hop on Ecstasy, UK hardcore rave was sheer Loony Toons mania: breakbeats  swerve and skid like automobiles  in Penelope Pitstop, and every cranny of the mix is infested with hiccupping vocal-fragments  and rap chants sped up to sound like pixies. Somewhere between a cartoon caper and a car crash, these Moving Shadow classics are the Skint sound five years too soon--which  either  makes  hardcore  astonishingly ahead-of-its-time, or Big Beat shamefully backward.

 

JOSH WINK--"Higher State of Consciousness (Tweekin Acid Funk Mix)"

(Strictly Rhythm, 1995)

            This dreadlocked  Philadelphian  made the prototypical  "funky breaks"  track--simple  looped  breakbeat,  screeching "acid builds" (Roland 303 bass-riffs), vocal timestretched  to fraying point--and sold half-a-million  records  worldwide  in the process.

.