Throngs of protesters clogged Tremont Street in Boston, which meant it was hard to walk away from the guy singing “We Shall Overcome” into a megaphone. He was earnest and tuneless and no one joined him in his borrowed aural glory. We were walking from Boston Common toward the plaza at City Hall and while spirits were high the soundtrack was lacking. “We need a marching band, to give people rhythm” the person next to me said, thinking of the street bands that play Honk! Fest in neighboring Somerville every year. Somerville, where Rümeysa Öztürk was kidnapped by ICE Gestapo two weeks ago, one of the many injustices we were protesting at the Hands Off! gathering on Saturday.
But when we got to the plaza, lo and behold: a marching band! Or rather the Good Trouble Brass Band, warming up the stage before the speeches and absolutely ripping through “Which Side Are You On?” I am a naysayer by nature and find a lot of protesting chants corny or, worse, pointless but this is mostly my problem. What is important is a mass of people finding a voice and creating momentum, because force doesn’t care if it’s corny. And a good song can channel and enhance that force. The rising and falling chorus of “Which Side Are You On?”, refusing to find resolution, always gets me pumped even when it is purely musical and without words.
The words that followed were not always as inspiring. The worldwide rallying cry of “Hands Off!” is great, simple to shout and aggressive as hell — not a plea but a demand. Activist and politician speakers used it as a call and response and the catharsis of yelling in unison with tens of thousands of people works just as well for political rallies as it does for concerts. But while many speakers had the rhythm, their tone was off. Elected officials talked about how the people need to lead and vote and show their energy, and I haven’t been to a lot of protests but I have been to a lot of campaign events and I know the fundraising tone when I hear it — an exhortation for support and an emphasis on platitudes and promises more than direct action.
There was another musical performance halfway through the rally, a good idea to energize the crowd through participation. Unfortunately, the choral group BVOCAL didn’t have the greatest sound support or set list. “We Shall Not Be Moved” was reworded into “We Shall Not Be Ruled,” an easy enough substitution that didn’t account for the audience not knowing half the lyrics even as the tune was simple enough to hum. The second song … I have no idea what it was and no one around me did either; the conductor was attempting to teach a small city’s worth of people an entire chorus of lyrics and melody that they’d never heard before and you could see everyone regretfully tuning out. It’s hard to be in harmony when you don’t know the words. In a cold drizzle the choir sang forcefully, but by themselves.
The megaphone guy had earlier called for us to speak out “in the name of humanity,” but I’ve never met humanity, at least not on the streets of Boston. I did see a ton of people, though, more than nearly any concert I’ve been to. The best speeches returned again and again to the (anti-)royal we, embodying a city and an attitude for all and rousing the spirit behind this rally, to be visible in resistance and in that visibility give yourself and others the strength to keep fighting. But though the crowd cheered for “igniting energy” and “telling Washington” and all the other abstract encouragements from the stage, to me this felt like the other side of the choir’s missed connection — here I was all too familiar with the words and wasn’t moved by the tune. “You know who’s going to make our country better? All of you,” another elected official told the crowd, and that sounds inspirational and evasive at the same time. I wanted to ask the politicians who were so eager to solicit our support, where are you in us? Where are you in the halls of power, where we put you to make a difference? Which side are you on?
Like any big show, the headliner was teased throughout the undercard acts. We know you’ll stick around, the Dropkick Murphys are here! And as the rain really started to come down the band came out on stage, with singer Ken Casey maintaining a proud Boston tradition of cursing in public as he described how the huge turnout “warms our fuckin’ heart.” And like any big show, the headliner made sure to play the new song before the hits, but the melody of “Who’ll Stand With Us?” was easier to pick up than other vocals of the day. They closed with their classic “Worker’s Song” but also, in a shoutout to the Good Trouble Brass Band earlier, played their own version of “Which Side Are You On.” It’d be great to say everyone sang along, it wouldn’t be true. But a lot of us did, belting out the chorus when Casey thrust the mic out at the audience, and if you listen you can hear us in a clip filmed from the front of the stage. You don’t have to listen hard at all to hear the roar of approval at the end of the song.
It is easier for me to feel the value of community in a song instead of a speech. You can only listen to the latter but the former is open, the way a rally is open to any and all signs no matter how cheesy they may be. It’s the combination that counts — here is my voice, here is yours, let’s put them together to feel their strength and break out of our feelings of powerlessness. They got the guns but we got the numbers, as another song says. There was no encore at the end of Saturday’s show, but the tune stayed in my head. I’m ready to sing it again.
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There really is nothing like singing with people to bring out that feeling of community. You don’t get that extremely justified feeling you mentioned during some of the political speeches–“Where are you in us? Where are you in the halls of power, where we put you to make a difference?” is going to stick with me–of getting testy and incredulous but not being able to really push back; you can’t necessarily push back during a shared song, either, but you’re not trying to. You’re all in it together.
I went to a Dropkick Murphys concert once and was extremely pleased that a dude in front of me in a right-wing T-shirt got pissed and left after Casey insulted billionaires. Hope you paid a lot of money for those tickets and then had your good time spoiled, guy! Those billionaires will never love you back! (Even better audience experience part of that concert: a guy in a Pennywise shirt blissfully and unselfconsciously rocking out to every song, with total unchecked exuberance. Pennywise Guy became my role model.)
Pennywise Guy rules! And absolutely hilarious that moron got so mad he left, who do you think you’re seeing pal.
“you can’t necessarily push back during a shared song, either, but you’re not trying to” says it very well. While writing this I was thinking of the Simpsons (when am I not thinking of the Simpsons) and “Last Exit To Springfield,” that episode is fairly cynical about unions but Lisa’s protest song is presented not just sincerely but as crucial solidarity, I don’t think that’s an accident.
What did we watch?
M*A*S*H, Season One, Episode Eighteen, “Dear Dad… Again”
As the title implies, this is another loose collection of anecdotes that the show gets away with due to its attention to detail and, more importantly, character. The most novel theme it’s playing with is the story of Captain Casey, who is in fact a genius conman Hawkeye lets go because of his skill. Much like Joss Whedon, this show has a fantastic gift for myths people inherently find attractive; it would be extremely cool to think of oneself as so brilliant one could fake their way through surgery, law, and teaching.
Most of the rest of it is a Greatest Hits thing, though the show is able to find new nuances. Boredom is one point, with Hawkeye trying to prove how inured everyone is by walking into the mess tent naked; Disney+ has updated so you don’t see his underwear in all the shots, though they’re still visible in the first due to slightly poor framing. The three best parts are all character; our first introduction to Klinger in a wedding dress (“It’s so easy to go overboard with those things, but that’s tasteful without going gaudy.”), for one.
This shows Frank miserable and driven to drink, and we see a lot more of both his innocence and his unlikability as he moans that nobody even liked him as a kid. My first thought was of Ted Cruz but then I realised I actually did know a guy like that in high school – he hung around me and my friends because we were literally the only people who weren’t physically violent towards him. It must be terrible to an unpleasant prick AND unable to figure out why.
We also have both the inherent corruption of bureaucracy AND the fatherly relationship between Henry and Radar when the former helps the latter pass a correspondence high school diploma test, which has him give up and allow some cheating after trying to prevent it multiple times. As Henry points out, Radar is easily smart enough to pass this because he does similar stuff all the time; again, the show has an eye for flattering narratives (the system can’t recognise how smart I am!), although as always I think it works to effectively tell that story.
Least interesting part is a talent show the characters put on, though this has the decency to have a few actual jokes on top of that.
Hacks, “The Captain’s Wife” through “The Click”
I’ve been impatiently waiting to get to “The Click” this whole time, because I adore the moment Deborah’s confessional show finally finds the tenor it needs: Jean Smart’s incredulous, squawky “See, I can’t relate to that!” absolutely kills me. (And ironically, I find it very relatable.)
A+ dog casting on Marcus’s puppy, because Joe is so small and so unbelievably cute that I am instantly as stressed out as Marcus is when he’s in danger. Great Marcus in this set of episodes in general: I love his relationship with Deborah getting some more screen-time here, from her reacting to his tearful phone confession of all the recent fuck-ups by extending compassion and companionship to the two of them slaughtering Ava and Damien at Celebrities (I howled at the Ted Kennedy bit). The caricature portrait he gets with Ava is also fantastic.
Ongoing excellent guest star and minor character work here, too. You get obvious highlights like Susan–the way she agrees that she was funny is almost transcendent, proud and bittersweet at once–but even ultra-minor roles like Wilson’s roommate (who agrees to pass on Marcus’s obvious “I’m doing just fine post-breakup!” lie because Wilson keeps eating his Skinny Cows) get good material.
One thing I can relate to in Deborah is how she struggles to find community with other women, and the ways she can and cannot connect to them. As neurodivergence has become more mainstream and widely recognised, I’ve ironically found it harder to find community with other neurodivergent people; Deb’s exasperation often matches my own, especially in her selfishness.
Agreed 100% on the casting. The one that always gets me is the guy who Ava buys her mobile off – no reason we should get an entire life story just from his face, but we do.
Oh, I really feel this. For some reason, identity groups I fall into tend to bolster and organize around a version of the identity–and various attached qualities/activities–that I just don’t respond to.
Agreed 100% on the casting. The one that always gets me is the guy who Ava buys her mobile off – no reason we should get an entire life story just from his face, but we do.
He really does have a fantastic face, both weary and rubbery, like a Shield guest star face tilted into comedy. And I love the way he fumbles slightly over his explanation of where her dumb phone came from: “She bought it for her husband with dementia, but he, uh … doesn’t need it anymore.”
Yeah, very much same. That’s one reason I don’t really like claiming or talking about any identity– people use it to define themselves, and I don’t like defining myself. I find it limiting. I also don’t want to be treated like an identity. (Was it Kierkegaard or Dick Van Patten who said “If you label me, you negate me”?)
Me too! Besties!
You can really see that moment of the wheels turning when she’s not getting the response, and Deborah nails why she needed to change tactic– she’s not being honest. She’s saying what she’s “supposed” to think and feel about all these events in her life, and that just isn’t funny. (“I got over my husband, but I never got over that.”)
Great point about the honesty. It’s like she’s gone so many years ignoring and not admitting to the trauma that at first, she can only admit it in its most cliche form, following someone else’s script for which parts mattered most, and now that she’s had time to process it through all these stilted shows–trust the process!–she finally digs through to the real version.
All That Jazz – Bob Fosse’s autobiopic that’s sorta a contrite confessional, sorta a egocentric celebration, sorta a sardonic tragedy. I was head over heels for this and I’m trying to break down why aside from the obvious (great performances, brilliant staging), and I think it’s because Fosse has such a bead on the role of showmanship. The surface razzle-dazzle is great, and he works to make that great, but the result is a strong community. I think it’s instructive that none of the numbers are literal stagings. We only see fantasies and rehearsals. Everything is preparation. The outlier is the delightful number his daughter and her mother perform for him, a performance just for the joy it bring the performers and the individual audience member.
Showmanship papers over a lot of ugly things and Fosse forefronts his womanizing and health-destroying habits. On paper it looks like he’s glorifying them, but he’s careful about balancing out the earnings sheet without showing the math. He exists as an unchanging force, but he sprinkles in stories of the people affected by his gravity (the company mutters about their finances when they learn he’s in the hospital). A final shot is as self-serving as anything before, and yet feels honest enough to work. Here’s the dividends of a life poorly lived, but what a show. G’night folks!
three body problem, up through episode 4. I have skme questions about benioff and Weiss’s adaptation choices. They have inexplicably moved the action to England and made most of the Chinese characters not chinese. And they made the one significant American character british (but I can forgive that because liam cunningham has the chops). We also don’t get any of the internal disputes among the pro-alien factions (people who want the aliens to come and conquer us vs people who want the aliens to help us). And they introduce to the boat that the pro-alien faction is based on and b&w have put a large civilian population, including many children, on the boat. I have read the books and I know what is coming, and I have some questions for b&w, like “why?” and “what is wrong with you?” I’m morbidly curious though, but I will probably have my wife close her eyes for a couple minutes.
Anyway, the recurring flaw here (and with GoT, and I assume with anything b&w touch for the rest of their lives) is amplifying the sensational and toning down the intellectual. But by toning down the intellectual here it moves 3rd towards the space opera end of the hard sci fi space opera spectrum. Do I still want to see how the big splashy sequences play out under their direction? Yes. I’m not immune to spectacle. But this is a glaring flaw.
(The de-sinofication of many characters and the setting will continue to be significant. There are things that just don’t make sense otherwise. For instance, at some point we learn about a period of time called “the great ravine,” which is so named as a pun on the great leap forward. Traditional chinese art is also important. And one unexpected character turns out to be a huge weeb for japanese culture, which likely carries different connotations in China than in the U.K. or U.S. )
As someone in a federal worker household – thank you to everybody who made it out last weekend. Every day, whether it makes headlines or not, there are people working to make life miserable for people in crucial roles that the powers that be don’t even pretend to understand. Seeing those crowds was heartening.
Was thinking of you guys last weekend, and if you watch the linked video, the first song is dedicated to federal workers. Warning: it may contain more than your recommended amount of Boston, adjust your ears accordingly.
(Braces for “More Than a Feeling”) Oh…
I’m glad. It was good to be out with so many people. I feel like a huge part of this awfulness is how alone they want us to feel.
Year of the Month update!
This April, we’ll be looking at 1999, so you can write about any of these movies, albums, books, et al!
TBD: James Williams: 10 Things I Hate About You
TBD: Ruck Cohlchez – Summerteeth/The Soft Bulletin/Utopia Parkway
TBD: Lauren James – Storm of the Century
Apr. 11th: Gillian Rose Nelson: Balloon Farm
Apr. 15th: Ben Hohenstatt: The White Stripes
Apr. 16th: James Rodriguez: The Scooby Doo Project
Apr. 17th: Cameron Ward/Cori Domschot: The Mummy
Apr. 18th: Gillian Rose Nelson: The Hand Behind the Mouse
Apr. 24th: Cori Domschot: The Matrix
Apr. 25th: Gillian Rose Nelson: Disney on DVD
Apr. 29th: Dave Shutton: American Pie/Class of 1999
And the open call for May starts now! Our year will be 1962, so you can write about any of these movies, albums, books, et al!
May 2nd: Gillian Rose Nelson: Moon Pilot
May 9th: Gillian Rose Nelson: Bon Voyage!
May 15th: John Bruni: L’Eclisse/Il Sorpasso
May 16th: Gillian Rose Nelson: Big Red
May 23rd: Gillian Rose Nelson: Almost Angels
May 30th: Gillian Rose Nelson: In Search of the Castaways
We had a local musician too, and the local drag group did a song, which felt really good. And a drum circle, which is, yeah, about as Vermont as this shit gets.
Nice! I am trying to think of who the Vermont Dropkicks are … Phish? And drum circles are the perfect nexus of corny/powerful, it is fun to play in rhythm with people! I saw a fair amount of marching bucket drummers last week and thought that was cool.
Yeah, it’s tricky because by the time a band in Vermont gets big enough that people know them they’re kind of too big to play much locally. Phish even now doesn’t play around here much. Jim Rooney is local to us and he has a pretty big following but it’s music people rather than mainstream folks.
I do like a bucket drum!