For those not in the know, Quentin Tarantino has mentioned that his movies exist in two separate universes. They exist either in his “realer than real” universe, or his “movie movie” universe. Most of his films fall under the “realer than real” category, which Tarantino has said is his heightened version of reality. A heightened version of reality where Hitler’s face got totally shot and exploded, and guys that look like Sam Jackson are EVERYWHERE. However, he has also said that both Kill Bill and From Dusk Til Dawn exist in his “movie movie” universe. Meaning these are the movies that the people in his “realer than real” universe go an see.
There are a few rules for each universe regarding characters. The “Movie Movie” universe is the only Tarantino universe where characters like Hattori Hanzo and Pai Mei can come from other fictional universes and be a part of the action. The characters in his “real” universe can make appearances in his other “real” universe movies, but characters from other fiction can not, and his “real” characters cannot appear in the “movie universe.”
I probably explained that terribly, but there are plenty of places online that lay things out better than me. Check out this Cracked.com article or this handy bullet-point list if you’re the type of person that likes these explained coherently. Simply put, if a character from Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs, Inglourious Basterds, True Romance, or Death Proof went to go see a movie, they might see From Dusk Til Dawn or Kill Bill on the marquee.
So now the question arises, now that Django Unchained has come out, which universe does it belong in? Due to its similarity with Inglourious Basterds, I think many are assuming Django can be placed in the “real” universe. In my opinion though, the case isn’t as cut and dry and many Tarantino enthusiasts claim it to be, I’d argue that Django Unchained belongs in the “movie movie” universe.
The most compelling evidence for this is Tarantino stating in no uncertain terms that Django and Broomhilda are ancestors of John Shaft. You know, from the movie Shaft? Which can be confirmed by Broomhilda’s last name, mentioned a few times in the movie: von Shaft. I guess at some point the Shafts thought the “von” made the name less phallic so they dropped it. Good move. But anyway, as the Tarantino Universe rules mention, characters from unrelated works of fiction can not appear in the “real” universe. Which can then be extrapolated to also mean the ancestors of fictional characters. If they were in the “real” universe, how could Django and Broomhilda be the great-great-grandparents of a fictional character? It wouldn’t make sense.
And even beyond that small bit of evidence, the very theme of “mythology” that is present in Django Unchained seems to confirm this theory. Remember the quick flashback at the end, where Dr. Schultz tells Django that he’ll be “known as the fastest gun in the South”? That is the moment that solidifies Django’s status as more as a folk hero, and less as a real person. The film also strengthens Django’s legend status by going out of its way to point out his story’s similarity to that of Broomhila and Siegfried in German folklore. We’re not necessarily watching a “Tarantino” movie, we’re watching a folk tale.
This also explains why Django Unchained seems to lack a lot of the Tarantino staples. Why is Broomhilda relegated to being simply the damsel in distress that needs saving, when Tarantino normally writes stronger, more complex female characters? Why does this film lack Tarantino’s usual non-linear storytelling? Why does it have very few asides in the dialogue? Why are all the villains so over-the-top in their evil and ignorance? Why is our hero seemingly invincible? Where are all those sexy, sexy feet shots that Tarantino loves to include? Are all these examples due to laziness, or bad writing, or Tarantino losing his touch? No. I’d argue those distinct Tarantino elements aren’t there because we’re not watching a film set in Tarantino’s real universe. We are watching a legend that is being presented in the “movie” universe.
Or (SPOILERS by the way) think back to the torture sequence. What was the worst punishment Stephen could think of for Django? Not castration, not being torn apart by dogs, but having his name and his legend go untold. So that was ultimately the punishment they chose for him, they sent him to a place that was going to replace his name with a number, take away his voice, work him until he died, and then finally throw him into a mass grave. In a “real” universe, torture and death are the ultimate threat, but since this is mythology, the threat of taking away a hero’s identity is far greater than simply killing him.
That’s what I took away from the film at least. I’ve only seen it twice, and my mind may change after subsequent viewings, but I think it’s safe to say that at the very least, the story of Django is a tale that any character in Tarantino’s “real” universe just as well as a German knows the story of Broomhilda and Siegfried. It’s a Southern fairy tale. If the story of Django is a legend told in Tarantino’s “realer than real” universe, and I think it would then make sense that Django Unchained is a film adaptation of that story, which would place it firmly in the “movie movie” universe.
Boy, we really went down the rabbit hole of geekery on that one, huh? Hopefully some of that makes sense. I know it’s not a fully formed idea, but I think it’s definitely worth some thought for those that are interested in the “Tarantino Universe” discussion. Feel free to discuss further or call me a dope in the comments.
I know the title of this article might seem like a slam, I want to start by saying I am a fan of fun. The band. They will be referred to as “Fun” from now on because that period makes things confusing and I don’t want people to think I’m talking about the idea of fun. I like fun as an idea. I have no issues with fun. Fun the band, though, I have a few bones to pick. So if you don’t mind I’m gonna pick the heck out of those bones. I’m gonna really get in there and pick those bones now.
While I’m a pretty unabashed admirer of the band, I’ll admit that their newest album, Some Nights was disappointing given their debut, Aim and Ignite. This isn’t a reaction to their new-found popularity, mind you. The song “Some Nights” is my favorite off that album, and that is their biggest hit. I’m happy that the members (especially Nate Ruess) have finally found commercial success after many years of relative obscurity, despite putting out pretty consistently interesting music. But, for every risk they took on Some Nights that paid off, they took other risks that ended up making for some bizarrely bad songs. It’s undeniable, however, that their risk taking paid off on a grander scale. Fun has gone from a moderately successful indie band to being the most successful rock band since Nickelback. Seriously. Nickelback’s 2001 single “This is How You Remind Me” was the last single by a multi-member band to reach the top of the charts before Fun came along with “We Are Young.” (Edit: Nickelback was the last band to have their debut single reach #1. My mistake.) But anyway, I don’t want to get too muddled in the numbers here. This article is less about their popularly and more about the reason behind their sudden change in style.
One of the things I appreciate about Fun and their singer Nate Ruess’ songwriting, is that the lyrics he writes are extremely personal. He’s not afraid to talk about his thoughts and relationships openly. Nothing is dressed up in metaphor or any kind of poetics. He lays his personal life on the line. Sometimes to the point of actually naming people he knows and criticizing them. This is especially prevalent in his previous band The Format’s album Dog Problems. Ruess had recently broken up with a longtime girlfriend, and this album was written as he was processing the emotions. It’s a fascinating and honest look into a volatile time in a person’s life that I’m sure most people can relate to.
Some Nights is no different at the start. While some of the later songs on the album are a bit less specific than I’ve come to know Ruess for, for the most part, his lyric writing continues along the same line as his other output. This is where things get interesting. On the song “Some Nights,” Ruess’ autobiographical lyrics provide more than just emotional grounding and insight into his personal life, they outline the reasons behind Fun’s drastic change in sound on Some Nights.
“Some Nights,” is all all about Ruess struggling with the idea of either continuing down the band’s previous path of relative obscurity, or taking a risk and trying something new, which will hopefully allow the band to find a new, larger audience. This idea is outlined in the song’s chorus where Ruess sings: “Some nights I wish that my lips could build a castle / some nights I wish they’d just fall off,” and then later questions “what do I stand for?” The first half of the song is him wrestling with the idea of continuing to make indie music for a small audience, or reaching more people with his art by taking risks. He wants to use his voice (lips) to build something substantial (a castle). But at the same time, is he all about artistic expression, or does he make concessions in order to have his work heard and enjoyed by a larger audience? What does his art really stand for? It’s something all creative people have to think about and wrestle with.
The song then outlines his thought process then slowly convinces himself throughout the song to try a new avenue. He tells himself that he “tries twice as hard” yet he feels “half as liked,” showing just how unsatisfied he is with his musical path. Halfway through the song, during the bridge, he says that when he “hears songs, they sound like a swan.” I believe this refers to the songs he had written post-Aim and Ignite, but before he decided to change the band’s sound for Some Nights. Some of these can be heard from concert bootlegs, including the song “What the Fuck Happened to Us?” which has a very similar feel to the band’s earlier output. This portion in “Some Nights” represents him listening to those songs and realizing that his heart was no longer in it, and that he could no longer continue writing music in the same way.
UPDATE: Some people hear the lyrics “When I hear songs, they sound like this one / So come on” in this particular instance, which may have a slightly different meaning, but still works towards my interpretation. The lyric seems to be saying that mainstream songs sound like “Some Nights” to Ruess. Which goes right along with my theory that the song is all about him accepting the mainstream music scene and choosing to be a part of it in order to reach a wider audience.
Then, in the second verse, he finally makes his decision. This portion of the song could either be directed at his bandmates, or towards his fans that expect more of the same. But either way, his decision is clear: “that is it boys, that is all / five minutes in and I’m bored again / ten years of this, I’m not sure if anybody understands.” Like mentioned before, his heart isn’t in this type of music anymore, and he’s made up his mind, he’s going to make a change. After ten years of making the same kind of music, he still doesn’t feel like he’s made a connection with his audience. I’m sure that’s a difficult realization for an artist to make, but he uses it to grow and move forward. He then relates this to leaving home, saying “This one is not for the folks at home / I’m sorry to leave Mom, I had to go / who the fuck wants to die alone, all dried up in the desert sun?” “Folks at home” in this case both referring to his parents, but also all of the fans of Fun’s previous style of music. This harkens back to earlier songs he has written with Fun where he talks about earlier disenfranchisement with the music business after the breakup of The Format. He left LA and moved back to Arizona to be closer with his parents. But he decided to give it another shot after forming Fun, so he left Arizona and continued his songwriting and performing in California. A lot of his thoughts on this transition can be heard in Aim and Ignite. Ruess relates continuing to make music for a small audience that may not appreciate it as “dying alone” in the Arizona desert sun. He’s comparing this transitional portion in his life to his decision to change Fun’s sound. At this point in the song, he’s in a zone of comfort, but he realizes has to take a risk in order to prevent creative stagnation.
And like he related this experience to his family, he relates it again to his sister. She took a chance on a person she loved, only to later be “conned” by him. While Ruess feels sorry for her, at the same time, he looks at what that experience created–his nephew–and realizes that positive things can still come from “the most terrible nights.*” That seals the deal for him. He’s decided to try something new with the band. Right when he lands on that decision, the music changes. As he hits the word “nights” at around the 2:30 mark, suddenly Ruess’ voice is heavily autotuned. An effect the band had never used before, and it’s an effect that is a sharp contrast to the band’s previous indie-pop kind of sound and much more in line with the music more commonly heard on the radio. The autotune is a very clear marker of the moment the band fully embraces his decision.
And not only that, but the album’s music follows this mental progression exactly. Some Nights starts out extremely similar to Ruess’ other output. “Some Nights Intro” has the exact same 3/4 time signature and very similar keyboard intro as “Matches,” the opening track off Dog Problems. Both songs even have similar themes of spending a contemplative night alone.
“Some Nights” the song starts out another earlier song as well: Fun’s “Benson Hedges” from their first album. Both have similar a capella, almost gospel sounding intros. The band’s sound only changes after they ultimately decide to change their sound in the hopes of reaching more people, with the autotuned section representing the band’s turning point.
Unfortunately, as Kurt Vonnegut says, “Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.” When Fun decided to reach a wider audience with their music, they ended up making a few decisions that didn’t work. The lyrics from the autotune portion of “Some Nights” on get slightly less personal, and the music slightly more radio-friendly.
There are some risks taken that pay off, like the R&B and vocoder portions of the album’s closer “Stars.” But there are songs that don’t work, like the bizarre “One Foot.” The band members have mentioned in interviews that they were highly influenced in this album by modern hip-hop, and even chose to have a hip-hop producer involved in the production of the album. “One Step’s” looping horns might make sense on a hip-hop track, but they are just too big and brassy to gel with Ruess’ indie-pop vocal stylings and relationship-focused lyrics. The band’s discussion of being influenced by hip-hop seems to gel with the lyrics of “Some Nights,” as hip-hop has by far the biggest audience in popular music. If you’re trying to reach a lot of people musically, hip-hop is how you do it.
Regardless of my opinion or anyone else’s, it’s interesting looking back on this song when knowing the risk the band took paid off. They got the wider audience and success they were hoping for when starting their endeavor, as described at the beginning of “Some Nights.”
Which then relates to the bigger issue: Is this “selling out?” Does selling out really even exist?
In pretty much every case, I’d say no. I don’t necessarily believe in selling out. For one thing, the discussion often gets into the realm of “this band got more popular, and their sound changed, and I don’t like it.” People are quick to claim “selling out,” when the culprit most likely is the band alienating a portion of their fans when altering their sound. It just gets too far into opinion for any real discussion to be had. And beyond that, how do you know for sure an artist really is only creating music for the money? The decision to change their sound is ultimately up to the band, and even if they really do decide to change their sound solely for money, that is still an artistic decision.
That’s what “Some Nights” is all about. Even though the song pretty much states that the band has decided to steer their music in a more audience-friendly way, they do their best to explain the thought process. Ruess doesn’t mention money or celebrity or anything like that in the song. He’s interesting in people understanding what he’s trying to get across. Isn’t that what all art is about? Relating your emotions to others? After a number of years of feeling like his artistic effort was in vain, yeah, he decided to appeal to a wider audience. Is that really a bad thing? I’m sure at a point, conscious or not, a lot of artists make the same decision.
Art is all about finding that line between your personal expression, and appealing to your audience. I think when people accuse bands of “selling out,” they are really accusing the band of what they believe is too far of a step over that line. Still though, I think it’s a shallow criticism that doesn’t necessarily relate to what connects music to its listeners. Like I’ve mentioned in other articles, much of the most timeless and moving music humans ever have created was made explicitly for money. Commissioned by dignitaries or written by professional songwriters, hired for their expertise in reaching the masses. If Fun really is a sell-out, then they’re in pretty fantastic company.
While I don’t think Fun as a band has quite found that line between expression and audience, I appreciate hearing them being so open and thoughtful with their process. I can only hope they continue on in the spirit of “Some Nights,” taking risks and pushing their music forward in whatever way they see fit.
Yes I know this picture is awful but I love that lil swan so I’m putting him here. Keep singing swan! I like your hair.
* Some of these lyrics are disputed from what I’ve seen online. Some people hear “some terrible lies” in this part of the song. See above for . The autotune kind of obscures the word a bit so I can’t really say either way for the “nights/lies” debate, other than that the New York Times agrees with me, and that I think that line relates to the album’s overarching concept of being about things happening at night. But yeah, take a listen and make up your own mind ya dope!
Thanks for reading ya dope! You’re not a dope, you’re cool. Bye.
PS if you enjoyed this article, or you just enjoy clip art animals feel free to check out my other articles in this series. They are free to click on! Everybody wins.
I have some big things in the works that I will be rolling out very soon, but as of right now, please enjoy some musings on a movie I just recently saw.
Earlier today, I saw Life of Pi, and like many other great creative works I’ve come across, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. Partially because of the film’s insanely gorgeous imagery, but also because I’ve been wrestling with its themes and ideas. It’s been out for a while, so I feel comfortable spoiling the movie in this.
After reading the general response online, though, I realized I interpreted the ending of the film differently than most people I came across.
WARNING: I can’t really talk about the movie’s themes unless I talk about the ending, when everything comes together. So if you haven’t seen it, and are the kind of person that likes to go into a movie fresh, this is your warning. Maybe you can go read a music article of mine! Scroll down. Have fun on my blog. You are more than welcome. Feel free to click on whatever you want. Make suggestions for things and I’ll probably do them. Go nuts! You have my permission.
I think I should also mention I haven’t read the book, I’m going purely by film here. Ok, so. I think a lot of people, when describing Life of Pi, will say that it is the story of a boy stranded on a lifeboat with a tiger. Which, in a way is true, but isn’t quite the whole picture. It’s the story of a man telling the story of being stranded on a lifeboat with a tiger. This is an important distinction I’ll get into later. SPOILER ALERT FOR REAL. SPOILERS START HERE OK??? At the end, we find out that the beautiful, exciting, and heartbreaking story we just heard this man tell was actually fiction. In reality, he was alone, and the animals that we saw share the lifeboat with him were actually representative of humans that all ended up dead. His mother included. Once he tells the story, he asks his audience–an author interested in his story–which he prefers. The truth, or the fiction. The author answers that he prefers the story with the tiger, which is the obvious answer. It’s got a dang tiger in it! It’s a winner. Gladiator had tigers. It won Best Picture. Coincidence? Whatever.
This part is important: when the author answers that he prefers the version with the tigers, Pi answers, “Thank you.” And then says, “And so it goes with God.”
A lot of people were disappointed with the ending of this film. They feel disappointed that the events that actually took place were never shown, they were only explained in expository dialogue. They considered it a betrayal. Like a movie ending with the protagonist waking up and being told the whole thing was a dream. They felt cheated that their emotions were so invested in what amounts to a lie. Extrapolating on those ideas, many think the movie’s supporting telling yourself lies to avoid the harsher truth. And in turn it’s supporting being religious just to make yourself feel better even though you’re skeptical.
Which I totally understand, by the way. If you were disappointed by the ending, you are not wrong. BUT, I interpreted things differently. To me, the film isn’t about religion. It isn’t about dealing with trauma. It’s about storytelling. It’s about communicating emotions.
I don’t consider Pi’s story of the tiger to be a coping device. He tells the true story to the author without hesitation, and when pressed enough by the Japanese boat company guys, he explains the events that took place without confusion. He’s not delusional about what really happened. He knows the reality of the situation and is willing to explain it. The story of the tiger is not him trying to block out his traumatic memories, it’s him trying his best to describe a completely indescribable experience.
The “coping device” interpretation kind of doesn’t hold up, in my opinion. The whole crux of the argument–Pi is lying to himself–doesn’t make sense to me really. If it really was his way of dealing with what happened, then why is the fictional account just as emotional? If he was avoiding the trauma, why does his fictionalized version of the story have violence and heartbreak and all the other emotions he must have felt in real life? I don’t think the fictional account was for Pi. That was Pi’s story for the people that wanted to hear what it was like. So he did his best to relate it. I was discussing the film with a friend, and she put it perfectly: “there is no way that he would be able to tell EITHER story if he were truly deluded.” He couldn’t have given people the option to choose which story they liked better if he was really lying to himself.
Two similar examples of this come to mind. First, the graphic novel Maus, which has an old man telling the staggering story of his experience in Auschwitz to his son. Instead of drawing human characters, the author and illustrator Art Spiegelman made the decision to draw every Jewish character as a cartoon mouse, and every German character as a cat. It’s a brilliant decision. By portraying the characters as animals, it actually makes the unthinkable atrocities that happen more relatable. You get caught up in what seems like a work of very dark fiction, only to remind yourself that it’s all true. Or the Tim O’Brien essay “How to Tell a True War Story,” in which he explains that a “true” war story isn’t about facts. It isn’t about the most accurate portrayal. O’Brien argues that a true war story is one that captures the emotions of the event. There are plenty of “true war stories” that never happened. And while some people might feel cheated that what they’re being told isn’t accurate, O’Brien argues that a true war story is one that captures the emotional truth, not the factual truth.
And that is exactly what Pi’s story does. How could he ever possibly relate what it felt like to go through his experience to someone else unless they lived it? The only way he could possibly hope to relate the experience to someone else is to tell the emotional truth. The audience in the theater I was in gasped and shouted “nooo” when the orangutan was killed. We find out later the orangutan represented Pi’s mother. Would the audience have gasped and shouted had it been his mother all along? If we had seen the grim reality and not the fantasy? I would guess no. And that’s the whole point of the movie. The allegory is not a cheat. It’s even more effective.
Think about that line I quoted up there a little while ago: “Thank you. And so it goes with God.” Arguably, it’s the most important line in the film. While a lot of people focus on the line about God, I think the “thank you,” is just important. Why is Pi thanking the author for saying the tiger story is better than the reality? Because he takes it as a compliment. He effectively expressed his emotions through fiction. That’s the mark of a good story, and a good storyteller.
The movie then relates this idea to religion. It relates back to what was said in the beginning. Pi’s father said that science and logic is all one needs. Science is about truth. Facts. But then his mother mentions that while science explains what’s all around us, religion can help describe what’s inside us. Pi is able to reconcile these seemingly differing viewpoints through his love of stories. PS I guess I should mention here I’m not particularly religious, I guess I’d call myself agnostic if the chips were down. So don’t take this as some religious nutso trying to project his own beliefs onto this movie. This is what I took away from it.
But anyway, this is the movie’s whole plot in a nutshell. Science is the real story of what happened. Whereas religion is the fictional account. “Such as it is with God.” The movie is saying that Pi’s story is like religion. They both try to make the intangible something communicable. Both religion and Pi’s story use storytelling to relate and communicate something beyond our understanding. This is also supported in Pi’s “collecting” of religions, which probably have contradictory viewpoints. He practices so many because he approaches them from the perspective of an admiring fellow storyteller, not as a firm believer in all their ideas.
If you still are a bit skeptical, check out this quote straight from the horse’s mouth! Or should I say… tiger??? Hahaha very funny joke. But no it’s from a human. The author of the book said this on the second dang page of the book: “That’s what fiction is about isn’t it, the selective transforming of reality? The twisting of it to bring out its essence?”
I think this addresses a lot of peoples’ issues with the film. The ending, again, is the whole conceit. It’s not a betrayal of everything you saw before. It’s not saying that it’s cool to just accept lies to make us feel better even when we know they aren’t true. It’s demonstrating how religion uses the same tactics as a great work of fiction. To communicate emotions. To make sense of the indescribable. It’s a confirmation of the power of fiction, while still working as great fiction in its own right. In my opinion, it succeeds.
Hey everyone. Sorry for the lapse in posting but I have some new sweet sweet morsels of internet presence for you to enjoy. Morsel is kind of a gross word.
First of all, I wrote another article for Cracked, and they published recently. Feel free to send any complaints about it my way and I will probably blame it on the editors. Click the .jpg picture with your mouse to activate the hyperlink. Or click this hyperlink here also with your mouse.
In addition to that, I have officially entered the Earwolf Podcast Network’s Holiday Carol Contest. I changed around my favorite Christmas carol: “Carol of the Bells,” and I made it about podcasts. Let’s be honest here for a second. “Carol of the Bells” is by far the best Christmas carol right? Yeah. Yes. Glad we could agree.
Anyway, it’s my first attempt at recording something a capella and it’s a little shaky at points but I think it turned out OK. Especially if you are familiar with Comedy Bang Bang and other Earwolf podcasts. Are your expectations sufficiently lowered? Perfect. Now you may click on the song. I hope you enjoy.
Look out for more things soooooon aaaahhh I’m falliiiinng haha just kidding. Just kidding. I’m bad at ending these things. Just kidding. Bye.
Hey do you like music? Me too! I like to write about it. Look at these words I made about music if you want. You might even enjoy it. Or just be entranced by the beautiful clip art. Either way, it might be fun. Thanks! Bye!
Yes. This is happening. I’m defending this.
My articles (especially my Notes on Notes music shit) usually are ideas that have been bouncing around my head for a long time until I feel like I have something interesting to say. But this video came up and the immediate backlash got me thinking. For all I know, this might be a knee-jerk reaction to the negativity, but I don’t think so. After first hearing this song, I was not immediately disgusted like most people. In fact, I was sort of intrigued. And before you even ask, no I’m not high, no I’m not crazy, and yes, this is a new sweater. Thank you for noticing.
A little backstory first before I get into whatever it is I’m doing here. “It’s Thanksgiving” is a song written by Patrice Wilson, the man behind Rebecca Black’s infamous “Friday,” which I’ll admit I didn’t particularly enjoy (I didn’t hate it, I just didn’t find anything interesting about it). The two songs are practically identical. In one song, Black is singing about how much fun Friday is and how she can’t wait to have fun with her friends over the weekend. She lists the days leading up to and following Friday. In “It’s Thanksgiving,” Westbrook talks about how much fun Thanksgiving is and how she can’t wait for the day to come. She then lists other holidays and the months they occur on. It’s really as basic and simple as you could possibly get. And no, Patrice Wilson, that is not a challenge. Please do not try and prove me wrong with a song that features a young singer reading the dictionary.
So yeah, very similar lyrical themes. And on top of that, the song’s structures are identical. A laid-back intro where the singer vocalizes a bit, then a verse that shifts into a prechorus that then leads into the chorus. Repeat until you hit that magic 3-and-a-half-minute mark. Both of which are so mind numbingly simple you can’t help get it stuck in your head. I can definitely understand being frustrated that you can’t get “It’s Thanksgiving / oh oh oh / We’re gonna have a good time” or “It’s Friday, Friday / Gotta get down on Friday” out of your head, but is catchiness really a negative thing when it comes to pop songs?
They both have a similar EDM kind of sheen that can be found in most current pop music, with no memorable melody or harmony to speak of other than the vocals. The music exists as support for the performer. There’s not much to even say. It’s texture.
Also, both songs feature rapping in the chorus. The only difference being Friday features a rapper who quickly appears to do a few bars and then leaves. On the other hand, “It’s Thanksgiving” features Westbrook doing the rapping all on her own. She doesn’t do very well. So that’s one point in “Friday’s” favor, at least it has a rapper that seems like he’s done it before.
Patrice Wilson’s job is to produce a song that appeals to as many people as possible. And it worked on “Friday,” regardless of how many people were listening to the song with an ironic detachment. It was a hit. So he wrote the song again with “It’s Thanksgiving.” I mean this in the least cynical way possible, by the way. I’m fairly sure that’s just what is going on. I hate to break it to you, but a lot of your favorite things were commissioned and created with only money and mass-appeal in mind.
There’s nothing wrong with what he’s doing, but I have a feeling most people will understand the situation immediately if they know “Friday” and understand the context of the song. The best hope “It’s Thanksgiving” has is for people to share it with their friends based on the sheer audacity of Wilson changing a few minor details to what was dubbed “the worst song ever” by many and then releasing it again. That takes some balls. And from what I’ve seen, it is working. The song seems to have a similar viral appeal. More power to him. It’s kind of hard to hate the man or either of the songs since they are accomplishing exactly what they were created to do. That would be like getting mad at the Terminator for terminating people, or getting mad at Teen Wolf for turning into a wolf and dunking on all the idiot jocks.
So the real question now comes up. If “Friday” didn’t do anything for me, and “It’s Thanksgiving” is practical identical, why in the world would I like it? Maybe “liking” it isn’t the right word. But I appreciate it in a way.
For me, it comes down to the difference between Westbrook and Black. Both of these songs exist as a platform for the singer. The backing track is sparse in order to let the vocals stand out more, and the video is the same way. It serves as a vehicle for the young starlet to smile and show how much fun she hopes to have on her day of choice (Friday or Thanksgiving).
What interests me is Westbrook’s voice. Her singing style is soft and breathy, which is quite a change from the bubblegum pop clarity in Black’s vocals. Combined with the studio effects on Westbrook’s voice like double tracking, autotune, and a chorus effect, it gives the vocals a very spacey, kind of dreamy feel. With Westbrook’s already low-key vocals, the song takes on a whole new dynamic. Instead of the pure pop attitude of Black on “Friday,” suddenly there is this melancholy singer talking about her opinion on the day of Thanksgiving. I’m not saying that makes the song good or that you should change your opinion, but it gives it at least some depth. It’s unexpected. Why is she so sad about Thanksgiving? Why does she sound like a lovelorn 80′s singer?
She seriously does. If you added a gated snare, and some 80′s sounding synths, you’d have yourself a decent Chillwave 80′s throwback kind of song. Or if you add in only one line about a significant other leaving her on Thanksgiving or something like that, suddenly you’ve got yourself a solid, cohesive song that could resonate with a certain group of people. Someone should do that (not it).
At least there’s a bit of a contrast in mood in “It’s Thanksgiving.” When Rebecca Black starts to sing after the poppy intro, her vocals are exactly what you’d expect. Westwood’s surprisingly emotional vocals contrast the cheesy synths as well as her smiling, care-free, party attitude she shows in the video. Since her vocals are the forefront of the music, that was enough to keep me at least slightly interested all the way through the song considering how much her vocals and performance were the focal point of the song. Unfortunately, the song does nothing to reinforce this contrast either through music or lyrical themes, so it ends up being no more than an odd quirk of an otherwise forgettable song. For me though, the “stock” sounding backing track just made her vocals stand out even more. Although this quirk was not enough to really make this song worthy of repeated listens for me, I think the context makes this vocal performance even that much more fascinating.
Think about it, this young lady dreams to be a pop star. She went so far as to get her parents to hire a guy to write and produce a song for her, and then make her a video. She’s probably practiced singing in front of the mirror all her life, singing along to adults much older than her who were channeling the emotion of their adult life into a piece of music that resonated with her. When it comes time to step into the booth to sing a song some guy wrote Thanksgiving, she does her best impression of her favorite singers, who were singing about their love and heartbreak and other such adult things. Over a song about how she likes Thanksgiving. That she hopes will make her a star. She’s putting adult emotions she most likely does not understand over a songwriter’s attempt at creating the most emotionless song possible. Those vocals along with the music and lyrics tell an emotional, bizarre story if you’re familiar with Patrice Wilson’s work. Sure, none of that is intentional or present in anything but the vocals, but that’s more than enough to get me through a few listens.
Here’s the thing about these songs. While their lyrics might be easy to make fun of, the lyrics are not what make them bad. We can forgive a song with bad lyrics if it can connect with us on a musical level. Just like a good song is the sum of all its parts, a really bad song is bad because of all of its parts. The song’s themes are where our initial dislike of the music comes from. They immediately come off as dishonest. The upbeat backing track combined with both the song’s refusal to talk about anything that is not fun or celebration make it difficult for anyone to connect with them musically. Even optimistic jerks like me. Music is like any other form of art. It needs conflict and contrast. Drama. Dynamics. “Friday” lacks those aspects in every facet. “It’s Thanksgiving” is much more enjoyable because it can add a tiny bit of that emotional contrast that “Friday” was so clearly lacking. It’s a much better song, people.
The production of these songs are another place where they fail. They take the trends of pop music and they dumb them down even further. You could say a million things about the lack of dynamic variation, the predictable structure and chords, but the lyrics are just a much easier target for ridicule, which is why they receive the brunt of the hate. But I think what really gets peoples’ goat is that these songs are written as vehicles for hopeful starlet pop stars. I think people feel insulted. Not that they have to listen to predictable pop music with simple lyrics, but that they are being pandered to with formulaic music designed to appeal to the largest audience possible. People on the internet do not like to be pandered to. They do not like to be told what is popular. Combine that with both songs’ overly sentimental tone, and you’ve got yourself a couple of songs that are very easy to be cynical about.
Ironically, in the case of “Friday,” this backlash ended up making the song a viral hit, and now I can type Rebecca Black and assume that everyone reading this will know who she is. So her and Patrice Wilson’s goal of gaining notoriety ended up working in spite of the internet’s rage.
So take a listen to the song one more time if you want. I swear to god, there’s sincerity in there if you concentrate on the vocal performance and ignore what’s being said. She made the choice to contrast the song’s sappy emotional tone with melancholy vocals. Maybe it wasn’t a conscious choice, but it was choice all the same. It makes the song far better than its partner in crime, “Friday.” And the fact that that sincerity is able to shine through, past all of the song’s studio trickery, inane lyrics, and predictable structure says a lot about Nicole Westbrook’s ability as a signer. Wasn’t that the point in the first place? To give her a chance to show off her stuff? On that level, I’m not ashamed to say I think it’s worthy of a few minutes of my time. Just don’t let her rap next time.
Excluding the context, this is nothing more than mediocre pop music with simplistic lyrical content, but it features a memorable vocal performance. No, it’s not good. But no, it’s not the worst song in the world. In fact, I think there’s plenty in there worthy of consideration and discussion. Or maybe I’m just crazy.
Hey, if you enjoyed this article, check out the other ones in this series why don’t you. Click on these words down here if you like cool clip arts and music words. Even if you hate it you can always enjoy some cool clip art animals rocking out. They alone are worth the price of admission (free)!
Hey here’s some more words I did! About music. Why not. Read them maybe goodbye goodnight see ya
Part 1: What are Dynamics and What Can They Do For Me?
I swear to God, I once read that John Lennon said, “Silence is the fifth member of our band.” Or something like that. But I can’t find the quote anywhere on the internet, which makes me assume that it doesn’t exist and that I am finally completely insane. Now at least there is some kind of documented proof for when psychiatrists start looking for early signs.
Luckily, silence is a popular topic for musicians. And they all seem to make the same point as my imaginary John Lennon ghost quote. For example, Robert Fripp of King Crimson once said, “Music is the wine that fills the cup of silence.” I like that one because it’s about booze. Or composer Claude Debussy once said, “Music is the silence between the notes.” I’m inclined to agree with these statements. Silence is the building block of music. Basically, what these smart fellas are saying is that silence is vital to the creation of music. Many great musicians display a unique understanding and respect for the power of silence through both their compositions as well as quotes like this.
Although musicians seem to discuss it often, silence and its use in music is something I believe is extremely undervalued in general music discussion and criticism. Usually in favor of what I consider more surface-level aspects such as melody or timbre.
I should clarify that by silence, I don’t mean almost complete silence as in John Cage’s “4’33,” or in reference to decibels in music like with “The Loudness War”. I mean volume fluctuations within the piece. I mean the relative silence compared to the phrase that came before. I mean the overall energy and propulsion of a song. Simply, I mean the loudness or quietness of a particular section of music. When an artist manipulates these things to make you feel feelings, it is known as dynamics.
I don’t just think dynamics are important to creating music; I think they are the only thing that all music has in common. Dynamics are what bind all forms of music together. Dynamics can transform a group of sounds into a piece of music.
It might sound like I have a boner for dynamics, but seriously—think about the most experimental song you know. Maybe ambient noise music? Or drone music like SunnO))) (yes that’s a real name)? These songs defy our expectations in that they have little semblance of melody, tonality, or rhythm—all things we value greatly in our traditional interpretation of music. But what makes them enjoyable to some is their dynamics. The noises created still have peaks and valleys in volume that are used for artistic effect.
Here’s a quick example of what I’m talking about. Take a song I’ve discussed previously, “Bohemian Rhapsody.“ You know the part where the guy with the high voice sings “For meeeee!!!” and then the entire band comes crashing in from the relative silence before it and there’s that guitar riff? Even those that are sick of the song can’t help but nod their head when that section finally arrives. That moment is so memorable and entertaining because of dynamics. After a section that is almost entirely a cappella, the music builds and then the entire band suddenly enters, playing a heavy rock riff. All of the tricks that of structure and volume fluctuation that the band used to get you to feel that rush of excitement in that moment is what I’m talking about when I say “dynamics.”
Or even the aforementioned “4’33” uses dynamics in its complete absence of volume. It might be a stretch, but the song still brings emotions (albeit not always positive ones) out of many of its listeners by playing with our expectations.
Given all that, I think it’s fair to say that dynamics are the one thing that all music shares across its extremely vast and varied landscape of genres. All music from all cultures, all genres, and all levels of obscurity can be evaluated and discussed based on their dynamics, and what all music has in common is the artist using volume to create a listener response.
I don’t think I’m overstating things by placing dynamics higher than other aspects of music. Let’s talk about Goosebumps. No, not the spooky horror books (but did you read Say Cheese and Die? Scary shit). I’m talking about the actual phenomenon where your hairs stand up and you get weird bumps on your skin from just listening to a great song.
Goosebumps are pretty much the ultimate response to music. You can’t do much better than a song being so good it actually physically affects your body with visible results. That is pretty powerful stuff. And dynamics in music have been scientifically proven to be connected to dynamic shifts. It’s a leftover survival technique where a sudden change in volume in a certain frequency in a song can be so unexpected (in a good way), that your body interprets it as a fight-or-flight kind of situation. Your body releases dopamine and adrenaline, which then results in goosebumps, which cause our hairs to stand up. If we were to actually have fur, it would make us look larger to a potential predator. But instead it is a useless biological leftover that leaves our skin looking weird. It’s still pretty damn cool when it happens though.
Here’s something cool to try: listen to some of your favorite songs while only focusing on a single instrument. If the song is popular, you may be able to find an isolated track of your chosen instrument on Youtube. Most R&B and Hip-hop artists release instrumental and a capella tracks for their hit songs (a voice is an instrument too!) Try to single an instrument out and listen to how it supports the rest of the song. Try to understand its role in the group. I guarantee you’ll gain a new appreciation of a song that you may have once been tired of. You’ll definitely gain a new appreciation for the instrument you chose.
While that’s a fun thing to try, what I think is an even more interesting experiment is to listen to a song only for its dynamics like you might listen to a song for a single instrument. To try and tune out any kind of tonality or timbre and to only listen to the way a song’s volume fluctuates. This not only can be just as eye-opening as the single instrument experiment I mentioned above, in some cases it is absolutely necessary to understand a genre or song that may initially be off-putting.
I’m sure everyone out there in the internet has had their share of songs that their friends, family, or the general public love that they personally can’t stand. There’s nothing wrong with not enjoying a song, but for me, it can be frustrating to understand the appeal of something that connects with so many. I don’t think anyone has to force themselves to like anything, but being able to understand something and relate to others is never a negative thing in my mind. If you can learn to appreciate these new sounds and maybe even share that experience with others, even better.
This is where dynamics can come to the rescue. I’m confident that stripping away a song’s surface details will reveal a chewy center of understanding that will allow you to better wrap your head around its appeal.
Take one of the most popular ambient noise artists, Merzbow. The average listener might react to this by saying something like “It’s noise. It hurts my ears. What’s the point? What’s wrong with you, Andy?” And the average listener wouldn’t be wrong. But there is something to appreciate in the song’s dynamics. Which, in contrast to its harsh aesthetics, are actually quite gentle. If you can learn to tolerate the song’s ear-piercing white noise, Merzbow can be calming, almost meditative in the way it flows from one section to the next dynamically.
Next time you’re having trouble getting into a new genre, give that dynamics trick a try. Listen to how the genre plays with volume, and ask yourself how that makes you feel. Why did the artists decided to do that? How do these changes in volume support the emotion of the song? Ask yourself how the song uses dynamics, and how the listener might be able to appreciate these tactics, and you’ll most likely start to understand the appeal. To me, that’s an invaluable tool in music appreciation, discussion, and criticism. It’s changed the way I evaluate music.
But getting back to that John Lennon quote I may have made up. I do agree that silence can act as an additional member of any group or artist. Or a different way I like to put it: Dynamics are the instrument of the songwriter.
Long story short—dynamics are important. They affect us on a deeper, primal level, and it’s time we start to acknowledge them.
Part 2: So What’s the Problem?
What’s disappointing is that dynamics are practically absent from most mainstream music discussion. Usually in favor of words about aesthetic artistic choices. Sure, someone’s voice, guitar tone, or the general atmosphere is interesting, but I believe dynamics are what connect us to a song in the long term.
Dynamics can be what gives a song lasting power or what makes us sick of it after several playthroughs. Dynamic choices are what make whole genres or eras of music sound stale and cheesy in hindsight. Due to a lack of discussion and understanding, dynamics and structure are completely entrenched in genre. Artists act like genre and dynamics are inseparable. When you hear a mainstream dubstep song, for example, you know you are going to hear a softer verse that suddenly explodes in a heavy, syncopated bass drop. Dubstep doesn’t normally stray from that formula, and thus, some people have already become tired of it after their initial excitement wears off. Or a rock song will most likely follow a verse/chorus/bridge format where a softer verse leads to a repeating, louder chorus. Artists who are remembered for being important and influential are those who can change up the formula in a way that makes sense given the emotion and tone of their music.
A similar thing happens with artists that come on the scene with a fresh, new sound. Once you’ve heard enough of their songs, their dynamic structure becomes predictable. They either continue making songs with the same structure, or they drastically change things, which ends up alienating people when the band does not meet their expectations.
But mainly, it comes back to the larger idea of emotional tone and theme that I discussed in earlier articles. Music is so much stronger when it focuses on particular emotions or themes. And as dynamics are so closely tied with emotion in music, it feels disingenuous when a band continues to use the same formula for songwriting over and over. It’s a clear indicator that the songwriter is no longer serving the emotion of the song and the tone it is conveying, but rather following a previously successful formula.
Let me be clear, I’m not saying that every song has to be a completely personal artistic expression. In fact, music has always had a long history of being commissioned. Some of music’s most seminal artists—from Bach to Mozart—all wrote music at the request of higher-ranking officials. Tons of outstanding pop music has been created by professional songwriters—people who are hired because of their skill in creating a piece of music that connects with a wide audience. That is a great thing, and it empowers talented songwriters and musicians to reach multitudes of listeners.
For me, there’s no distinction when it comes to whether music is personal or whether it is written for an expressed purpose. What makes music great is how well it can convey an emotion to the listener. The disconnect between dynamics and emotion is where many modern songs fail to become great works of art.
If those who write music were only more aware of the dynamic constraints of their respective genres, we might have more music that is less derivative and that can stay true to its emotional core. If more artists were creating music that didn’t as neatly fit into a recognizable, marketable genre, we might have even more examples of truly timeless work, rather than art dictated by well-trodden trends. And the first step towards these goals is discussing and understanding how dynamics are used.
Let’s go into more detail by using some concrete examples of dynamics in action. The Beastie Boys’ “Sabotage” is the perfect example to do so.
Part 3: Listen All Y’all
Please watch the youtube ad in its entirety, it will help defray the huge cost of fake mustaches for this video.
Given how music is typically discussed, with a focus on melody, musicianship, and genre, “Sabotage” is a song that simply should not exist. It should by no means be a huge hit.
But it is. It’s definitely stood the test of time so far. If J.J. Abrams’ Star Trek is to be believed, we’ll still be enjoying this song on our hoverbikes while riding around in the desert far into the future.
Not that melody isn’t wonderful—I love a well-written melody more than anything—but “Sabotage” proves that it isn’t necessary for a song to connect with people. “Sabotage” is a practically atonal song and has done just fine for itself.
But not quite atonal, though. The song does utilize guitar and bass, both of which play part of an A flat/B sharp kind of chord. They slam on these couple notes for the entire song with pretty much no tonal variation. The notes they play are used for their percussive quality rather than for any kind of melodic purpose.
If someone wrote out sheet music for the song, it would look like whatever is between “awfully boring” and “straight-up awful” to someone who had never heard the song. It has no melody, no variations in tempo, and every instruments part repeats dozens of times. Which is what makes the song such an effective demonstration of what I’m talking about. The song’s dynamics are 100% responsible for the connection many people have to it.
“Sabotage” is successful because the Beastie Boys were able to support the emotional tone of their song through dynamics. But what is the emotional tone of the song? Well, it’s one that everyone can relate to. It’s about outside forces, like say, “The Man,” bringing you down. It’s a song that replicates that frustration.
By carefully taking dynamic influences from hip-hop, hard-rock, punk, and pop, the Beastie Boys were able to create a song that captures this frustration in an honest way.
They took a huge risk in creating a mostly atonal pop song, but they also took a huge risk in that the song’s only source of dynamics is “layering.” Think back to the experiment we did where you listened closely to a single instrumental layer in a song. If you were listening to either the drums or vocals, you may have noticed that given the section or phrase, the instrument would fluctuate in volume. Drums are usually relegated to this position in modern bands. They have the enormous responsibility of creating different dynamic effects, such as crescendos, tension, release, or just good ole fashioned increases in volume. Other instruments sometimes help out, but drums are usually doing the heavy lifting.
This is not the case in “Sabotage.” There are five things making noise on this track: bass, drums, guitar, vocals, and turntables. Each of these five instruments is either playing as loud as they possibly can, or not playing at all. They all serve a binary function of being collectively “off” or “on,” rather than individually fluctuating in volume depending on their context within the song. The way the band layers these elements is how they allow dynamic variance and movement to occur.
As a punk-band-turned-hip-hop-group, the Beastie Boys are able to channel the dynamics of their influences in this layering aspect, as this is what many songs in both genres share. Due to its use of samples, hip-hop’s form of dynamics comes about through the layering of different samples and vocals. Punk’s in-your-face attitude and simple instrumental parts mean the musicians are often playing as loudly as possible, so dynamics can only change when instruments are omitted in different parts of the song. This obviously is a huge generalization for both genres, but typically, they use layering. The Beastie Boys were creative enough to understand the dynamic structure of these two very disparate genres in order to create a song that straddles genres in both its approach to dynamics and through its emotional themes.
On a more structural level, the song keeps things extremely basic, with the song jumping from a quieter, instrumental section, to a louder verse section that adds vocals. Each section lasts about 8 bars.
The band keeps this from getting tedious by altering which instruments are playing during the instrumental portion. After the initial build-up and the first verse, the instrumental portion at 0:40 features bass and drums with the turntable scratching and screeching on top. In the next instrumental section at 1:03, however, the turntable is gone, and the guitar is featured on top of the looping drum part.
The structure almost works out like a math problem. 3 instruments (of the total 4) play during the instrumental break, which then changes to 4 for the more intense verse. This back and forth exchange repeats three times until everyone drops out but the bass. Then, for the big cathartic climax, all 5 instruments come at once. They mix things up a bit for the “Listen all y’all…” bridge, and then a final verse winds things down. Overall, it’s a very simple formula.
Notice how the band showed restraint by not putting all 5 instruments on top of each other until the goosebump-inducing moment of the climax. Also, notice how the juxtaposition of the solitary bass-line against the multi-layered crescendo makes the climax all that much more effective by comparison.
And on the subject of that climax, the reason it is so successful in being a “goosebump moment” is not only because of the song’s structure and careful use of layering, but because of the emotional content of the song. For a track all about frustration, what better way to demonstrate this than releasing that frustration with a scream? It’s catharsis at its best. Not only has the entire song been building up that moment dynamically and structurally, the emotion is reinforced by this song’s use of typically rebellious and frustrated genres. It’s this overall cohesiveness that makes “Sabotage” so acclaimed.
That primal release of a scream is replicated at the beginning of each verse portion of the song. Listen to how the intro of the song builds with bass, guitar, and a staccato drum line until vocalist Ad-Rock busts in with an extended scream of the word “I” at 0:17, leading you into the first verse. It is effective in a similar way to the song’s cathartic climax. It’s like Ad-Rock is so fed up and frustrated, he can’t help but shout something out before the verse actually starts. The same thing happens with his shouting of ”so, so, so” at 0:50 before the second verse, or his strange “bwaaa” at 1:14 before verse 3. These vocal choices demonstrate how small dynamic changes such as these can do so much to contribute to a song’s overall emotion feel.
“Sabotage” is about rebellion, as mentioned before. The lyrical themes discuss the various ways the narrator feels oppressed and frustrated. But on a larger scale, the song reinforces its rebellious themes by combining punk and hip-hop, and keeping things simple and accessible through structure. Its success is the ultimate “fuck you” to the authority the song is decrying. The Beastie Boys connected with the general public on their own terms.
Looking forward, I think “Sabotage” will remain popular because it provides audiences with something that they crave, yet get so little of—dynamics used in an emotionally charged fashion. Dynamics are so completely attached to genre that when an artist is able to create something that exists outside of these restraints, yet still makes thematic sense, listeners will eat it up.
The first step towards allowing more influential songs like this to happen is being aware of and discussing the way artists really use volume in their music. I’ve only scratched the surface here.
So next time you have a few minutes, do this old chunk of coal a favor. Listen to any song, but instead of listening to that cool guitar solo, or the interesting inflection in the vocalist’s voice, or the cool piano part in that sample, think about how dynamics are being used. Does the song ever catch you off guard with a change in volume? What’s the overall structure of the song’s different sections? And most importantly—what is the point of the dynamics in the song? How do they make you feel?? Do they support the emotions of the song, or are they adhering to the genre’s format? Am I starting to sound like an insane person?
So yeah, did anything interesting pop up? Did you hear a song that had dynamics of note?? Let me know why don’t you?! Let’s talk about music or whatever!!
Thank you so much for reading.
Really.
You rule.
Goodbye.
-Andy
PS I almost was able to make every clip art image in this article a picture of a rabbit drumming but that one .gif of the lion playing steel drums was too good to pass up. Please accept my sincerest apologies for not sticking to the theme.
Also, if you enjoyed that article, check out the other ones in this series why don’t you. Click on these words down here if you like cool clip arts and music words.
You can look at a video of me doing the jokes here if you have been dying to see an audience tepidly react to something today.
Also, be on the lookout for a new, huuuge article about music soon AND a new article from me at Cracked.com. Plus plenty of other things in the works so look out internet I’m comin through beep beep
