Svetlana Gouzenko – Before Igor: My Memories of a Soviet Youth

Vladimir Lenin All-Union Pioneer Organization“For the October Revolution our class produced a small play in which a group of young Pioneers expelled the heroes of Russian fairy tales as ‘non-Soviet elements’.  The curtain opened on this drab little group of Pioneers.  Their appearance brought no response from the audience.  Then the group leader . . . got up and made an introductory speech.  She explained that the old fairy tales, about princes and princesses, exploiters of simple folk, were unfit for Soviet children.  As for fairies and Father Frost [~Father Christmas/Santa Claus], they were simply myths created to fool children.

“After her speech the colorful crowd of ‘non-Soviet elements’ appeared on stage.  A sigh of delight passed through the hall and grew into a wave of applause . . . .

“The Trial began.  Cinderella was dragged before the judges and accused of betraying the working class . . . .  Next came Father Frost, who was accused of climbing down chimneys to spy on people.  One by one we were condemned to exile.  The only exception was Ivan the Fool, because he belonged to the common people and so was no traitor of his class.  He was renamed Ivan the Cunning.”

Svetlana Gouzenko, Before Igor: My Memories of a Soviet Youth (1961)

Gouzenko was the wife of Soviet defector/traitor Igor Sergeyevich Gouzenko, a key figure in the start of the “cold war”.  The passage quoted above sneers at the Pioneers, and sympathizes with betrayers of the working class, but wasn’t that play great?  Children should put it on again.

Loretta Lynn – Still Woman Enough

Still Woman Enough: A Memoir

Loretta Lynn with Patsi Bale CoxStill Woman Enough: A Memoir (Thorndike Press, 2002)


Loretta Lynn’s second memoir fills in a few gaps from her first, Coal Miner’s Daughter (1977), and picks up the years since that first book.  This isn’t an autobiography that attempts to chronicle her entire life.  It is episodic, jumping from one story to the next, revealing only as much as Lynn wishes.  At times, that is the biggest limitation of the book.  When she has something nice to say about someone, they are mentioned by name.  When she has something negative to say about a person or band or business, she typically withholds the proper name.  This is somewhat common with country music memoirs (Cash: The Autobiography does a little of the same, for instance).  But the strength of the book is Lynn’s willingness to accept herself as she is without letting shame or embarrassment get in the way — at one point she acknowledges that she doesn’t read well.

The bulk of the book is devoted to explaining her relationship with her husband, known by his nicknames Doolittle and Mooney.  As much as her music creates a persona of an independent woman, she stuck with Doo since her marriage at age thirteen, in spite of his philandering, alcoholism, abusiveness, jealousy, male chauvinism, and general craziness.  She also writes a lot about the rest of her family, including her many children.  There are maybe two pages total devoted to recordings, a larger number devoted to descriptions of live performances, and substantially more to the grind and crazy escapades of touring and being in the cutthroat entertainment industry.

Loretta Lynn’s best quality was her earnestness and total lack of guile.  This shone through her music brilliantly.  This memoir captures that same aspect, though at the same time her naivety comes through too, and it is hard to accept her frequently superficial explanations on a few topics, some of which veer into supernatural explanations.  One such problem is that while she (rightly) takes some credit for being a pioneering businesswoman in the music industry, taking more control over her music than “girl singers” were usually permitted in the misogynist Nashville music machine, she has no grasp whatsoever of broader social forces.  So she never quite gets around to offering any explicit context for how the three decade “golden years” of the working class coincided with her rise to fame.  If you want that analysis you will need to look for a biography.  But she still has plenty of great stories that revolve around her likeable bewilderment.  For instance, she talks about being on a Dean Martin celebrity roast and leaning over during the taping to ask Martin when dinner will be served — she thought the event was really a dinner where celebrities get together and (literally) eat a pot roast.

I was reading this on an airplane and a steward leaned over and asked what it was, then — after saying he admired Loretta Lynn too — jokingly suggested that maybe I should put it in a paper bag so no one could see it.  The cover definitely markets this as a “woman’s” book, the kind promoted on daytime TV.  No doubt, this is driven by emotional responses to difficult life circumstances.  But anyway, it is a decent enough memoir though this will probably only be coherent if you have read her first memoir or have seen the (rather excellent) biopic Coal Miner’s Daughter (1980), which is mentioned many, many times.

Michael Denning – Noise Uprising

Noise Uprising: The Audiopolitics of a World Musical Revolution

Michael DenningNoise Uprising: The Audiopolitics of a World Musical Revolution (Verso 2015)


Professor Michael Denning has offered a unique history of the early days of electrical music recordings with Noise Uprising.  The earliest sound recordings were analog, recorded straight to a disc through a sound horn, but electrical recordings introduced a microphone to capture sounds before inscribing them on a disc (later came magnetic tape and then digital media).  The microphone greatly enhanced sonic fidelity, at roughly the same time that phonographs for playback dropped dramatically in price.  These, among other factors, led to a brief surge in the recording of “vernacular” music from 1925 to 1930, at which point the Great Depression decimated the global market for sound recordings.  It was a time when recordings went from being novelties and marketing gimmicks to promote other sales to being valued cultural artifacts in their own right.

Denning is well versed in recordings from around the world, and readers may learn about some genres from other parts of the world for the first time, whether Cuban son, Egyptian taarab or Indonesian kroncong.  To supplement the book, he has also created a “Noise Uprising” playlist through a free online streaming music service (login information provided in the book), featuring some of the song selections discussed in the book.  For many readers, nothing short of listening to the recordings being discussed will capture the full effect of the music.

There are detailed passages exploring the nature of “noise” and its relation to the music that developed in conjunction with the rise of electrical recordings in the late 1920s.  Denning examines the role of rhythm, including the rise of “rhythm sections”, and the unique role that recordings took in overturning the dominance of published sheet music.  He provides a rather excellent summary of how early recordings were seen as supporting the sale of sheet music, with most recordings sold by furniture stores to create a market for phonographs (which were treated as furniture), whereas the electrical era actually supplanted the primacy of printed music and enhanced the role of the performers (and the esteem granted to their abilities to improvise), before radio hardware manufacturers bought up record labels as they began failing amidst the Great Depression.

The boldest claim Denning makes is that a musical revolution took place through unique contributions of global port cities.  This claim (inspired by the compilation album series The Secret Museum of Mankind: Ethnic Music Classics), while intriguing, is not conclusively supported.  There are anecdotes, but not much to refute counter-theories or any attempt to systematically test the validity of the hypothesis.  Still, whether or not you agree with that theory, the rest of the book is still a fascinating account that doesn’t depend entirely on that hypothesis.  For instance, Denning draws on an impressive amount of prior research to catalog the sales volume and import/export characteristics of the music industry just before the Great Depression — elaborating where and how music was recorded, where the records were pressed, and where they were shipped for sale.  He also brings a leftist (Marxist) perspective to the analysis, and a more astute awareness of economics than that of most music writers.  For instance, at numerous points the book discusses the tensions and usage of vernacular music by countries of the Third World project.  Towards the end, Denning even makes some sharp observations about how tensions with copyright regimes in the Neoliberal era have pursued an “enclosure of the commons” program that was resisted by the Third World nations until their capitulation in the late 1970s (after the Third World’s New International Economic Order proposal was defeated) at which point Western capitalists began to apply the “World Music” label to market this sort of music as a commodity — whereas about a half century earlier the same sorts of recordings were marketed as “folk” music.

Even readers lacking any specific interest in musical recordings of the late 1920s may find much of interest here.  Denning’s extensive discussion of the role of recordings in placing timbre, and the role of contrasting timbres on recordings, in the foreground of musical practice make interesting fodder for a discussion of the practices of later musicians like iconoclastic jazzman Ornette Coleman with his extreme sensitivity to timbres, or Denning’s perspectives on “exotica” as being linked to the early formations of anti-colonial struggles might inform interpretations of the way eccentric jazz bandleader Sun Ra led a musical commune for decades that incorporated elements of exotica.  For that matter, as Denning discusses the way the collapse of the record industry around 1930 was like a failed revolution, the idea that revolutions reappear across time and space might help explain the emergence of rock ‘n’ roll recordings a little more than two decades later.  And, of course, this is a valuable pre-history to help contextualize the rise of hip-hop decades later — another revolution from below that relied on re-purposing of existing musical materials.

Although scores of writers from around the globe are cited, from musicologists and amateur critics to anti-colonialist theorist Frantz Fanon, Denning uses Theodor Adorno as a reference point for much of his analysis.  Denning doesn’t just repeat Adorno’s theories — Denning offers ample critiques, mostly from a Gramscian perspective.  In some ways, this limits the analysis, stopping well short of post-Marxist analysis from the likes of the sociologist Pierre Bourdieu, and tethering it to a predominantly economic class-based framing.  When he discusses the way harmony was a mechanism for vested interests of society to exert influence in the musical realm, the book screams out for something more like Bourdieu’s sociological analysis or a similar one of institutional economics.

All things considered, this is a book that offers a fascinating and significantly new theory of musical development during the early days of sound recordings.  Much room is left for additional observation to test the hypothesis about the role of port cities in musical evolution, but everything else here comes together well.  Denning’s way of explicitly politicizing the development of music just before the Great Depression is what allows its revolutionary content to emerge.  To suggest that there was no political aspect in this musical practice is simply to actively perpetuate an existing political order; and as historian Howard Zinn said, you can’t be neutral on a moving train. More to the point of Denning’s thesis is something John Berger wrote in his essay “The Primitive and the Professional,” New Society 1976 (reprinted in About Looking):

“the ‘clumsiness’ of primitive art is the precondition of its eloquence.  What it is saying could never be said with any ready-made skills.  For what it is saying was never meant, according to the cultural class system, to be said.”

This old Berger quote is about as concise a summary of Denning’s “noise uprising” thesis as possible.

Nicole Aschoff – The New Prophets of Capital

The New Prophets of Capital

Nicole AschoffThe New Prophets of Capital (Verso 2015)


Nicole Aschoff has written a slender volume critiquing the programs of four modern “prophets of capital”: Sheryl Sandberg (on boardroom feminism), John Mackey (on conscious capitalism), Oprah Winfrey (on self-empowerment), Bill & Melinda Gates (on charity).  She adopts a journalistic tone, focusing on the “stories” told by the prophets of capital, and the sustaining narratives merely implied (or disavowed) by them.  She finds a common thread of support of capital over labor throughout, and sustained support for inequalities and hierarchies of power against egalitarian impulses.  These “prophets” present what appear to be corrections to the contradictions of capitalism, only to reinforce and reproduce the imposition of markets into more and more spheres of life.  The chapters profiling each prophet generally begin with a statement of what the prophets put forward to the public as the benefit they provide, followed by a critique that renders problematic the unstated assumptions and necessary preconditions.  The summaries of what the prophets preach are generally fair.  As to the critiques, there are no new arguments here.  Yet the critiques in the book work because Aschoff is well versed in theory, and she has done her research on all the standard left takedowns of these prophets of capital.  Luc Boltanski and Eve Chiapello are credited in influencing the book.  Slavoj Žižek, Pierre Bourdieu, and C. Wright Mills also loom large in structuring the analysis, even though each is only mentioned in passing.  If this has a flaw, it is sloppy editing (“Thomas Picketty” rather than Thomas Piketty, etc.).  Still, this is a welcome restatement of left positions, filling the near-vacuum of accessible, readable books from the political left.  Lee Drutman has argued that the solution to the problem of lobbying in politics is — paradoxically — more lobbying.  In a similar way the solution to the way mainstream media frequently resembles a right-wing echo chamber may be to have a bit more of a left-wing echo chamber for balance, and The New Prophets of Capital serves in that role admirably.

Staughton Lynd – The Alinksy Method: A Critique

Link to an article and book review of People Power: The Community Organizing Tradition of Saul Alinsky (Aaron Schutz & Mike Miller, eds.) by Staughton Lynd:

“The Alinksy Method: A Critique”

Bonus links: “Stopping Labor’s Backward March” and “The Problem With Saul Alinsky” and “Intersectionalism, the Highest Stage of Western Stalinism?” and Hans Modrow Quote

Stanisław Lem – Solaris

Solaris

Stanisław LemSolaris (MON 1961)


A work of science fiction, yes, but Solaris is also as much about humanity as anything else.  Psychologist Kris Kelvin travels to a space station on the planet Solaris, where strange things have been happening.  The thoughts of the cosmonauts are made corporeal, as “visitors”, by the planet itself.  A kind of pink slime “ocean” covers the planet.  It is sentient.  The ocean is even able to adjust the planet’s orbit between two suns.  A fascinating (and horrifyingly realistic) subplot is the way that Kelvin uncovers a conscious/unconscious plot by scientists to suppress the nature of the planet in published reports, relegating certain information to an Apocrypha and discrediting those whose findings contradict official dogma, with scientists acting like the guardians of religious institutions rather than seekers of knowledge as they profess to be.  The scientists are only able to apply language that is internally consistent, like mathematics, but never explains the mystery of the planet itself.  The planet remains an impenetrable other, its motivations inscrutable and unknown to the scientists.  Is it experimenting on the scientists?  Is it trying to help them?  No one knows. Comparing the novel to Moby Dick, Lem said that he “only wanted to create a vision of a human encounter with something that certainly exists, in a mighty manner perhaps, but cannot be reduced to human concepts, ideas or images.”  But what dominates the story about scientists who cannot hope to understand the planet Solaris, is that they also fail to understand themselves.  Everything they experience about the planet is filtered through their own, flawed consciousnesses first.  The premise of the book maps directly onto the work of Jacques Lacan, Alain Badiou, and continental philosophy — Lem called the Freudian interpretation “obvious”.   Certainly, one of the greatest of 20th Century Sci-Fi novels.