How’s about some Big Bill Broonzy—as interpreted by brothers Dave and Phil Alvin*—to start the weekend? It’s a little tune called “Saturday Night Rub,” and it’s just as awesome as its title implies.
*Their first album together in 30-some years is called Common Ground, and it’s well worth a listen.
Do you think that the Weird Al video I shared last week is funny? Kevin Gallagher, who refers to “garden-variety internet pedants” and “Strunk & White fundamentalists” in his article claiming that—get this—Weird Al is the humorless one, doesn’t like it one bit.
And if you do think it’s funny, well…you’re probably a racist. Lauren Squires reveals the sinister “linguistic discrimination” behind Mr. Yankovic’s parody:
…a little rumination on Weird Al’s violent reactions against “bad grammar” raises deep and longstanding questions of social equity regarding class, education, race, age, ethnicity, gender, and how these relate to languages, dialects, and social registers. There is ample research on these issues (which any sociolinguist could point you to), but the upshot is that the notion of “Proper English” typically serves to prop up the already-privileged speakers whose native language variety it is (sort of) based on. This puts speakers whose native language variety does not approximate “Proper English” at an immediate disadvantage in society, the same way that privileging Whiteness puts those who are not White at an immediate disadvantage in society. It is not the linguistic differences themselves that do this (just as it is not the racial/ethnic difference themselves that determine privilege), but the *attitudes* about them. This is why many linguists are having a hard time laughing with Word Crimes: to do so feels like complicity in an ongoing project of linguistic discrimination that intersects with class, race, and other kinds of discrimination.
You have to read the whole thing, if only to see for yourself what passes for higher education in this country.
For those who are ready to admit that they need help, there’s hope. And for Kevin, Lauren, and all the other dour descriptivists whose self-regard trumps everything else, Sergeant Hulka has a message:
T. H. White’s July 23, 1934 diary entry, which he later published in England Have My Bones, a memoir about country living:
“There is something in our effete old English waters after all…And in them stands absorbed the ruminant angler, unconscious of time, deft with his fingers, puzzling his beloved fly-box, breathing his pipe smoke regularly in the bliss of concentration, pitting his quivering wits and tackle against the rosy-spotted tiger-fighters of the drinkable water, sun-struck into another infinite universe like the heron. I suppose the heron must be the happiest of living creatures.”
Ever wonder what an “algorithmically-generated, readability-adjusted scatter-plot of the musical genre-space, based on data tracked and analyzed for 1251 genres” would look like? And wish it contained sound samples? Wonder no more.
The estimable Mike Miller—who handles all programming- and IT-related matters around here—seems to think “Weird Al” Yankovic and I are kindred spirits. Can’t imagine why.
In the fall of 1988, we designed our very first annual report for Avista. It was noteworthy for at least three reasons. One, it was the first project we ever produced for what was then known as the Washington Water Power Company. Two, it was the first major print project for our newly formed firm, Anderson Mraz Design—which officially began doing business on January 1, 1988. And three, it was the year that, midway through the design process, WWP decided to call it the 100-year anniversary annual report, since it was mailed out in early 1989. Recalling this project makes me feel a little like—dare I say it?—an industry veteran.
Congratulations to Avista for 125 years of service. We’re pleased to have worked with them on countless projects for 25 of those years.
“What I was hearing didn’t sound like it came from someone of this generation, even of this century. I was in a mild and amused state of shock, and all I remember thinking was this: Listen to how this gentleman talks because you will never hear anything like it ever again.”
Read the fascinating story about Brazil’s Confederados—the descendants of Confederate Americans who settled near São Paulo following the Civil War—over at Narratively.
One of American music’s singular voices has been silenced: I just got an email announcing the death this morning of the great bassist and composer Charlie Haden. One of my favorite albums of all time—in any genre—is the one he made with Pat Metheny in 1997 called Beyond the Missouri Sky. Here’s “Waltz for Ruth” from that album.
“I learned at a very young age that music teaches you about life,” Haden wrote in his acceptance speech when he was inducted into the National Endowment for the Arts 2012 class of Jazz Masters. “When you’re in the midst of improvisation, there is no yesterday and no tomorrow—there is just the moment that you are in. In that beautiful moment, you experience your true insignificance to the rest of the universe. It is then, and only then, that you can experience your true significance.”
Writing in Cultural Amnesia: Necessary Memories from History and the Arts, the great Clive James points out that, “as Kingsley Amis acutely noted, the person who uses ‘disinterested’ for ‘uninterested’ is unlikely to see your article complaining about the point, because the person has never been much of a reader anyway.”
What? They’re not synonyms?
The first definition of disinterested in my copy of The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language (fourth ed.) reads “Free of bias and self-interest; impartial”; “Not interested; indifferent” reads the second. A note in the text, however, mentions that 89 percent of the dictionary’s usage panel rejected the second definition back in 1988, only a slight decrease from the 93 percent who disapproved in 1980. An online search reveals that the number was 88 percent in 2001 and 86 percent in 2013.
Experts agree: they’re not synonyms. So what gives? I wish I knew. For now, I’m sticking with my go-to source in all matters related to English, who writes, “A bored person is uninterested. Do not confuse this word with the much rarer ‘disinterested,’ which means ‘objective, neutral.'” That’s good enough for me.
This is one of those ideas you wish you’d come up with yourself—simple and seemingly obvious, yet brilliantly creative. I hate these guys.
This is the wheelhouse of the Columbia Princess, the ferry that provides service across Lake Roosevelt between Gifford and Inchelium. I suppose, then, that it’s not technically a “Spokane scene.” But it’s a short drive away, so I’m counting it.
Thanks to everyone that attended the helveticka open house this past Friday! We enjoyed a wonderful turn out with clients, collaborators, friends, and family. The music was fantastic, the food excellent, and the beverages endless. The outdoor tents proved to be invaluable. And I hear the new helveticka space isn’t so bad, either. In case you missed it, just give me a call to arrange a personal tour.
photo by Photo Ramsey
There’s a great scene in the theatrical release of Wayne’s World in which Wayne, trying out a new guitar at a music shop, plays the intro to Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven.” No sooner does he get through the first couple of notes when a store employee puts the kibosh on it, pointing to a sign on the wall that reads “No Stairway to Heaven.” Anyone who’s ever picked up a guitar will understand.
The problem is, on international, home video, and television versions of the film, Wayne doesn’t actually play “Stairway to Heaven.” Because of “disputes in obtaining rights to the first five notes of the song”—according to IMDB—something else entirely is dubbed in, and the joke predictably falls flat. See for yourself:
The point to all this? Willard’s Wormholes makes the compelling case that Led Zeppelin has a whole lotta chutzpah:
“Led Zeppelin’s many incidents of copyright infringement are legendary. There are those who have called it outright theft, and have sworn in a court of law that Led Zeppelin (primarily Jimmy Page and Robert Plant) have repeatedly taken credit for writing music that wasn’t their’s to take credit for. And, many of those cases have been vindicated.”
Do take the time to check it out, if only to see the 25 fantastic—and cringe-inducing—”Zeppelin Took My Blues Away” trading cards.
First, they came for the fish…
The opportunity to write a headline like this comes only once in a lifetime.
Step one: eliminate the Jews. Step two: reanimate some prehistoric cows. Step three: enjoy world domination.
Um…
“For a short while it looked more like a Star Wars battle,” said man who witnessed horrific Shrewsbury sheep lasering.
Regular readers know that I like to point out proofing errors from time to time. It’s not necessarily to gloat, but rather to point out that, every once in a while, even the pros miss something. (Are you reading this, CK?)
This one, though, is a biggie. And since it comes from a private, hoity-toity, fancy-pants university with an $8 billion endowment, well…schadenfreude is a perfectly reasonable response.