the live show

Last night, I had the pleasure of seeing Grizzly Bear live in concert at Town Hall. Wow. This was one of those special shows that reminds us why we need the performance arts. It was easily one of the best concerts I've ever seen; the band was phenomenally successful musically, visually and atmospherically. If anybody is thinking about seeing Grizzly Bear on this tour, do it. I promise you will not regret it.

What the band did really well was strike a balance between mixing up the presentation of some of their songs, and leaving others much closer to the recorded versions. Beyond that, they were technically mangnificent and the sounds left me breathless. Such beautiful voices! I literally got the chills. It was also neat to hear some of the songs accompanied by the live youth choir that sang with the band on Veckatimest. The lighting was also fantastic-- it complemented the songs effectively, and was not overbearing as concert lights sometimes are. This was a welcome change after I was nearly blinded by the strobe lights at the Roots' Highline Ballroom show last week.

Live music really is something special. This is sometimes lost, I think, as we now find ourselves overwhelmed with recorded material. Music is best enjoyed as a communal experience, as a connection between musicians and audience. I always get that happy nervous energy in the pit of my stomach while I'm waiting for a concert to start. A few minutes into the show, I feel a sort of warm bliss inside that no other experience can evoke. Last night was no exception.

Thank you, Grizzly Bear!

aesthetics of consumption

A few weeks ago, a friend sent me a link to the video above. When I watched the video at home that night, I was struck by its beauty, and by the extent to which I was held captive to the power of effective advertisement. Porsche designs and builds breathtaking automobiles, and many people have spent time dreaming about owning or driving one. I count myself in this group. Still, the reality is that a 911 is prohibitively expensive and most people will never be able to own one. The advertisement glorifies an extreme, oppulent sort of materialism that will ultimately leave most people unsatisfied due to their inability to actually attain the dream. The gentle piano, the quiet confidence of the boy, and the friendliness of the sales agent all perpetuate a profoundly false sense of inevitability to the situation. We are asked to understand that the boy will buy a Porsche later in life. As if will and persistence are somehow all that it takes.

At the same time, we don't need to subscribe to any particular notion of socioeconomic reality to appreciate the quality of a Porsche 911. While it is clearly excessive to describe a car as "quite simply the purest expression of who we are", the company can hardly said to be doing wrong by celebrating their work. It would be difficult to argue that there is some moral shortcoming in trying to design a high end product. There are real and obvious problems in a society focussed to much on materialism. Nevertheless, few would try to make the claim that 'nice things' are inherently bad. So why do I feel ambivalent about the advertisement? Why as though I've been manipulated in an intimate way? Perhaps this speaks to my own personal internal struggles with the morality of materalism.

The elephant in the room is that substantive discussions aside, the video is beautiful. Like the automobile, the advertisement has been meticulously designed both aesthetically and functionally (it's pretty and it works). It works because it evokes passions, longings and memories that many can relate to. The friend who sent me the video says that it "captures all of the feelings I have for that car and my dreams." Such innocence! The writing, direction and production of the commercial are superb, and allow us to suspend notions of reality that could detract from the point: you want this car. And even if I decide that I don't want this car, I think I still want to watch the video.

At the end of the day, isn't the video itself a valuable work of art?

backgammon

I first discovered Backgammon while traveling in Turkey and Greece with Rob, JB and Jamal after graduation. We would see people playing at all hours of the day while drinking coffee, smoking nargile, or just hanging out. Needless to say, it didn't take us long to start playing, and the game began a large part of our trip. The game is conducive to easy play peppered with the sort of conversation that brings people together, and seems somehow appropriate to the Mediterranean climate and aesthetic.

Since that trip I've always kept a board at home: currently two. Nevertheless, until a few days ago, I hadn't played in some time. I pulled out the board and played a few games with Nico on Sunday afternoon. It was a nice reminder of the reasons that I came to love the game originally. Nico aptly characterized the game as having the right balance of luck and skill for most people to enjoy it easily and quickly. Strategy plays a big role, and a strong player will usually beat a weaker player. Still, the luck of the dice is exciting (friends call me The Cooler), and in my experience, most players have at least a shot of winning against most other players.

While cerebral games like Go and Chess have gained cult popularity in recent years, casual board games are an institution that seem to have lost some prominence in our culture. I find this unfortunate. Backgammon, and games like it, serve as wonderful backdrops to conversation. Above all, I see them as a way to interact with people. A way to mute the occasional silences that can otherwise make conversation seem stilted or awkward. I've grown closer to my friends playing backgammon. I've also gotten over silly arguments with friends, and acknowledged as much implicitly with a simple "want to play a game of backgammon?" Games like backgammon let us relax and just be with people who matter to us.

Another issue that I've been thinking about lately is that of public spaces and community. In this sense, as well, games like Backgammon can aid in local engagement (particularly when the weather is nice). Backgammon provides a social means for spending long periods of time with a friend or friends in a public space. More to the point, playing in public spaces is a way to acknowledge the a shared sense of community with those around you. Seeing two people playing backgammon has a friendly aesthetic. The image is an inviting one, so playing in public spaces can also be a nice way to meet new people.

Anybody up for a game?

teachers

A friend sent me this video, and I really enjoyed it--

food for thought

I spent much of yesterday at the Brooklyn Food Conference in Park Slope. This was an event that I'd been looking forward to for some time, and it was fantastic. According to the New York Times, there may have been as many as three thousand people in attendance, and this gives credence to the credibility and momentum that the sustainable food movement is gaining. Food is a big issue, and one that I am spending an increasing amount of energy thinking about. We need to demand a food system that is environmentally sustainable, healthy and just. The unfortunate reality is that we have nothing of the sort right now. The wide variety of people showing interest in this issue gives much reason for hope.

I really enjoyed attending a workshop about milk, which had a panel consisting of an expert in the history of milk, a raw (unpasteurized) milk advocate, and some farmers. The woman from the raw milk advocacy group seemed blinded by bias, and betrayed little understanding of basic statistics. This, coupled with her unwillingness to consider challenges to her generally unsupported claims, unfortunately detracted from any credibility in her perspective. The other panelists, however, were quite good and I have actually decided to start drinking milk from local farms where the cows are predominantly grass-fed. The consensus also seemed to be that while milk is very good for you, it is not necessary in the way that many of us in North America have been led to believe. Another fact that surprised me was the uniform claim from the panelists that whole milk is healthier than skimmed milk. Nevertheless, I think I'll keep drinking skim, because whole milk is just too thick for me to drink!

Another great panel was "Race and the Food System," in which the panelists talked about the lack of access to healthy food in minority communities, and the epidemic of health problems that result from this. It was encouraging to see that there are concrete steps being taken at the grassroots level in New York to address these disparities. Karen Washington spoke about her experiences bringing a farmer's market to her community in the Bronx, and Bob Law was extremely eloquent, thoughtful and direct in linking the food system to broader issues of social justice. One idea of his that has really had me thinking is that our system of social support is focused on normalizing poverty and making (disproportionately minority) people comfortable with it. Instead, we should be focussed on programs that bring people out of poverty.

All in all, a wonderful day. I was encouraged by the number of people who seem committed to reforming our food systems, and really benefited from hearing quality discourse on important issues.