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Is rock dead?
i ■iiiai Min i i ■
by CHARLES TOMLINSON
the gamecock
“Rock is dead, they say,” the Who sang
r in its early ’70s anthem, “Long Live
Rock.” It’s something critics have been
saying for decades. And for a while, it ac
tually looked like the raucous distortion
would lapse into silence.
After the mid-’90s, the ripped jeans of
grunge rock were finally tossed to the back
of the mainstream closet. Fiannel shirts
guises of boy bands, saccharine female
singers and the Bon'Jovi of the late ‘90s,
Creed. Rap-metal and nu-metal followed,
not improving things a bit. And through
out it all, gold-toothed rappers fronted to
“bling-bling” their way onto MTV.
But around the end of 2001, something
started to change. At the 96 WaveFest
concert in Charleston, the ground was
littered with promotional CDs of an un
, heard of band, which shortly thereafter
would earn Spin magazine's 2002 band of
the year award — the Strokes.
With a lo-fi sound reminiscent of ’70s
acts such as the Velvet Underground, the
Strokes were a surprise hit in late 2001,
forming the cadre of rock’s 2002 revolu
tion. A triumvirate of bands with “the”
names followed the Strokes’ rise to pop
ularity: the Hives, the White Stripes and
the Vines.
The Hives, a Swedish punk act, are the
most frantic of the new crop of rock stars.
Singer “Howlin” Pelle Almqvist rants
over trashy three-chord guitar riffs on
the band’s breakthrough hit, “Hate To
Say I Told You So.”
But compared to the rest of the songs
on “Veni Vidi Vicious” — which was ac
tually released in 2000 — “Hate To Say I
Told You So” is pretty slow.
“A Get Together To Tear It Apart”
blasts off with a searing drum roll and
doesn’t let up for an entire minute and 45
seconds. “Outsmarted” and “The Hives
Introduce the Metric System in Time”
have similarly blistering tempos.
The only problem with the Strokes and
the Hives, however, is that their albums
are too short. The Strokes’ “Is This It”
lasts barely longer than 30 minutes. And
the Hives’ “Veni Vidi Vicious” lasts a
meager 28 minutes, despite having 12
songs, one more than the Strokes’ album.
In the days of such bands as Led Zeppelin,
albums might have had only eight songs,
but they still lasted at least 40 minutes.
The White Stripes’ album “White
Blood Cells” has 16 songs; they .might be
short, hut they add up to 40 minutes. The
album also won 2002 album of the year
from Spin. The band earned popularity
with the short blast of “Fell in Love With
a Girl,” the meek schoolboy fawning of
“We Are Going To Be Friends” and the
Led Zeppelin-esque guitar riff of “Dead
Leaves and the Dirty Ground.”
“Expecting” shows further Zeppelin in
fluence, this time in a Robert Plant
sounding vocal by Jack White.
“Highly Evolved,” the Vines’ debut,
wasn’t as raging and wild as the first sin
gle, “Get Free,” led the record-buying
public to believe. Front man — or rather,
mad man — Chris Nicholls screamed,
mmm i mmmm
looked like he was going to vomit and
smashed a drum set on “The Late Show
With David Letterman.” Nicholls’ fre
netic behavior, however, belies the sen
sitivity and dynamics of other Vines
songs such as “Autumn Shade” or
“Country Yard.”
But a late bloomer waits in the wings
to take part in the rock revolution:
Burning Brides.
In fact, they want the revolution to be
bloody and take no prisoners. With such
song titles as “Stabbed in the Back of the
Heart” and an album titled “Fall of the
Plastic Empire,” the Brides are darker
than the Strokes and company.
The album, which was actually record
ed in singer-guitarist Dimitrj Coats’ base
ment, was originally released on the in
die File 13 label. But the V2 label, also
home to the White Stripes, picked up the
Brides and rereleased the album last year.
Just recently, the raw “Arctic Snow”
made its way onto Columbia’s WARQ
♦ ROCK, SEE PAGE 6
BOOK REVIEWS
Davis makes impressive debut
“GIRLS’ POKER NIGHT"
By Jill A. Davis
★ ★★★ outof'£rsir#<r*
BY BRIAN RAY
THE GAMECOCK
You take a risk every time you
shell out 15 bucks for a book, but
there’s no gamble with Jill Davis’
new novel, “Girl’s Poker Night.”
Davis deals a funny story with
■», strange characters and small
truths about life on every page.
This novel will even please guys.
Ruth Capote sends 30 of her
best humor columns and a six
pack of beer to the “New York
News” and scores a new life. She
leaves her weird boyfriend in
Boston and reunites with her old
friends over a deck of cards in the
Big Apple.
Despite her one courageous act,
Ruth learns that she’s afraid to
lose and hates risks — especially
emotional ones. As Ruth’s boss,
Michael, falls for her, she can’t
move past preliminary make-out
sessions in the elevator and week
end trips to health spas.
Job stress and the metamor
phosis of her poker friends inspire
a trip down the hallway of memo
ry. Ruth remembers her parents’
divorce, her'strict upbringing and
her father’s death in a car acci
dent. Meanwhile, her friend Lily
comes out of the closet, her friend
Danielle has twins, and her new
flame Michael reveals his own
troubled history.
Everything works out, of
course. Ruby overcomes her emo
tional drawbacks — and there are
a lot of them — in order to go for
the relationship she wants with
Michael, rather than something
“safe” with her ex, Doug, or some
other mediocre man. Davis even
entitles the last chapter, “Happy
Ending.”
So far, “Girls Poker Night”
might sound like another light ro
mance, but details make the novel
There is a Scandinavian model
named Skorka who drinks liquor
out of the bottle, barely speaks
English and likes to dance alone.
Doug, the old boyfriend, has 300
twist ties stashed away in his
kitchen drawers, likes to walk
around his apartment naked and
calls his sports car “The Grape.”
And one of Ruby’s friends
keeps more than 40 tubs of butter
in her refrigerator.
By the end of “Girls Poker
Night,” Ruby Capote has attend
ed a Sister Goddess meeting, gone
out to a lesbian bar, been sexually
assaulted with a magic marker
and witnessed the death of New
York’s oldest doll collector, Midge.
Everyone, regardless of gender,
can identify with Ruby. She seeks
the courage to make life what she
wants. Her mind is in limbo, and
even if Ruby doesn’t attain nir
vana, she nails a good job and a
solid relationship.
So, she’s also a hero.
And even if she isn’t the most
stable person in the world, she
still lets her distraught friends
crash on the couch at 4 a.m. Ruby
embodies everything people are
and want to be.
Ruby is also a realistic charac
ter, not perfect by any means. She
sinks into the background at so
cial gatherings, never says the
right thing at the right time and *
has difficulty engaging in adult
conversations. To her, these dia
logues feel like arguments.
Readers forgive Ruby, though. She
constantly flagellates herself for
her shortcomings, so nothing
needs to be said.
Jill Davis demonstrates a re
markable sense of style for a first
novel. She delves into her charac
ters’ psyche without getting too
heavy or emotional and keeps the
story humorous without overdo
ing it. The short chapters and wit
ty prose are reminiscent of Kurt
Vonnegut’s “Cat’s Cradle.”
In many ways, Jill Davis is a
real-life Ruby Capote.
Before moving to New York,
she wrote a humor column for a
small metropolitan newspaper.
Her writer’s resume includes sev
eral short stories, network pilots
and screen plays. Davis was also
a writer for the “Late Show,” for
which she received five Emmy
nominations.
Comments on this story?E-mail
gamecockmixeditor@hotmail.com
Two sisters share
journey into past
“IN HER SHOES”
By Jennifer Weiner
★★★ out of
BY CRISTY INFINGER
THE GAMECOCK
From the author of the
best-selling novel “Good in
Bed” comes another hilarious
book about an insecure wom
an looking to find her place in
her own life. “In Her Shoes”
is a story about two com
pletely opposite sisters thrust
together in a search for their
past.
Rose and Maggie Feller,
along with some interesting ,
geriatrics and a quirky dog,
travel to Florida from
Philadelphia in search of the
grandmother they never
knew, but both end up finding
more than they ever hoped
for.
Rose, a serious attorney at
an established Philadelphia
law firm, dreads coming home
every day when her younger
sister, Maggie, unexpectedly
takes up residence in her
apartment. Maggie insults
Rose’s fashion, steals her
money and shoes and is
caught by Rose in a very com
promising position with
Rose’s new boyfriend.
Maggie, whose highest ac
complishment has been hav
ing her hip in a Will Smith
video, constantly disappoints
herself and her family.
Although she loves her sister,
she doesn’t understand Rose’s
need to succeed. Maggie suf
fers from a learning disability
and finds that hiding it is her
best defense from criticism.
wnen Kose ana Maggie
part ways, their journey is
just beginning. Rose quits her
job at the law firm and follows
the path of the disgruntled
pug, Petunia, by walking dogs
for a living and running er
rands for traveling dog own
ers. Maggie ends up at
Princeton, Rose’s Alma
mater, and lives in the library
until a student finds her out.
While Rose learns the value
of slowing down, Maggie finds
an invaluable self-confidence
when she realizes that she can
be part of the crowd, but not
the center of attention.
Maggie finds years worth
of birthday cards from a
grandmother she never knew
she had and a family secret
♦ BOOK REVIEW, SEE PAGE 6
When
music
snobs
attack
BEN ANGSTADT
'* GAMECOCKMIXEDITOR@HOTMAIL.COM
Like many people, I’m inun
dated by the entertainment me
dia. I write articles about music; I
watch movies in my free time. I
sell CDs and DVDs at work so I
can pay for my car.
My home is popular culture.
Conversely, there are a lot of peo
ple ready and willing to condemn
anything having to do with popu
lar culture.
- While there is no crime in hav
ing original tastes, there’s also
nothing wrong with happening to
enjoy the same movie or band as
the next guy. It seems ridiculous
to nle that there are people out
there willing to criticize the ma
jority of us for having similar
tastes.
The worst thing about a snob
is you can never be sure who he
is or when he’s about to strike.
These obscurists among us,
these elitists, these snobs criti
cize mainstream radio listeners
simply for enjoying popular mu
sic.
One minute, you’re happily
talking about your favorite new .
song—and the next, he’s opened
his mouth, and he’s telling you:
Your opinion is inherently
wrong.
Were music snobs to think
about the way that fhey pursue
their tastes, they would realize
that they are guilty of the very
crimes they accuse us lowly main
stream fans of committing.
For one, the music snob is
shortsighted. He can see com
plexity in music, but he can’t ac
tually see depth. Obscurists rant
on and on about some brilliant
song that attempts some convo
luted statement about saving the
whales or freeing political pris
oners.
Never mind that these mes- .
sages are often delivered with the
same overplayed cliches found in
the music of their peers and con
sist of little tangible substance.
~ Music is art, and as any good crit
ic would tell you, it’s foolish to
judge art for its purpose, rather
than for the way it achieves the
purpose.
So, labeling a piece of music
as superior because it conveys
some esoteric message is ulti
mately as shallow as liking a
song because it’s the one most
played on the radio. And sur
prisingly enough, there are
droves of mainstream artists
who have the self-understanding
to emphasize the quality of their
performance rather than mere
ly the words they sing.
Furthermore, the music snob
is just as much of a follower as
those of us that they label main
stream. Have you ever noticed
how every music snob keeps men
tioning the same band over and
over? That’s no accident.
Rather than listen to what ev
eryone else is listening to, ob
scurists avoid following the lead
er and just listen to what others
aren’t. There’s nothing wrong
with this; it’s simply that music
snobs has no credibility to con
demn others for their own sins.
I’ll admit it: I have my fair
share of obscure CDs. But I
bought those because I enjoy the
music, not because the guy at the
store had never heard of them.
And they sit on the rack right
next to scads of flavors-of-the
week and mainstream rockers.
So to the music snobs out
there: Think about what you’re
listening to. You’re making
groundless remarks when you
criticize mainstream music fans.
Stop picking out CDs because
they’re the dustiest ones on the
shelf.
Angstadt is a second-year
political-science student.