Saturday, April 27, 2019
In some personal news, I have just been hired as Chief Culture Writer at The Christian Science Monitor. (I didn't choose the grandiose job title!)
The newspaper, a pioneering bastion of journalism, was founded by Mary Baker Eddy in 1908. It was as an alternative to the pervasive "yellow journalism" of the day. As the newspaper's masthead proclaims, "To injure no man, but to bless all mankind." It has won multiple Pulitzer Prizes and renown for its non-sensationalistic, fair, truth-seeking approach. Fundamental journalistic principles that, at the time of its arrival, seemed novel! Perhaps it shouldn't be called a newspaper anymore given that The Christian Science Monitor ceased printing a daily newspaper over a decade ago and moved online. These days it's a daily digital publication but we also produce also a weekly print magazine.
Poke around the website or, better yet, subscribe. It's a publication for thinkers. A focus on stepping back from the news to focus on big ideas underlying the news—a look at trends, understanding others, prevalent modes of thought, and identifying progress in the world (as well as pointing areas that require attention and help). The Christian Science Monitor is also renowned for its truly global focus with international bureaus across the world.
I previously worked at the newspaper from 1999-2009 where I conceived and edited the Weekend Section. I was also a writer at the Los Angeles bureau prior to leaving for a freelance career. I'm thrilled to return to the newspaper. Here's a few articles I've written since my return. (Note, the newspaper allows non-subscribers to read five free articles a month.)
Is the music industry finally facing its #MeToo moment?
Rock on. How biopics are giving rock ’n’ roll new life.
Apple joins the streaming menu, but are viewers already full?
Holy Grail: How can Hollywood get religious movies right?
Bye-bye harassment: Musicians take a stand for festival safety
Monday, March 18, 2019
As assignments go, my latest Culture story for The Christian Science Monitor took a lot of digging to get people to talk.
My lengthy think piece explored whether the music industry is finally having its #MeToo reckoning now that Ryan Adams, R.Kelly, and Michael Jackson are finally being held to account. Over the past half year, groups such as The Orwells, Hookworms, Sorority Noise have disbanded following allegations of sexual misconduct by individual members. Sigur Ros and Real Estate parted ways with band members accused of, respectively, sexual assault and sexual misconduct. Industry titans Charlie Walk, Russell Simmons, and LA Reid have been fired following disturbing allegations.
I wanted to exploring what, if anything, has changed. It seemed to me that there's been a shift in power within the industry. And there's also been a shift in how the public at large views #MeToo abuses. (I took all the Ryan Adams albums I own—above—off my CD shelf and haven't had any desire to listen to them of late, though I will return to them some day. Just not anytime soon...)
And yet, even though the likes of Amber Coffman, Phoebe Bridgers, Lydia Loveless and Julia Holter have used their online platforms to name alleged abusers in the music scene, many others have remained silent about instances of sexual harassment, sexual misbehavior, and even rape. They're often afraid for their careers, especially those who are unknown.
As influential publicist Judy Miller Silverman of Motormouth Media put it to me, "Because the onus of coming out and trying to have a career is difficult because then suddenly you're beholden to male A&R people and label people saying, 'Oh, that's the musician that outed the blah-blah. She's trouble.' To keep your own career safe, you almost have to get to a certain place. You need to be at a certain level in order to be secure or you're worried that your career is over before it's begun."
Judy also mentioned how difficult it is to be the first person to go on the record to name an abuser, hoping that others follow. "What if no one else comes forward and their accusation is hanging in the wind?" said Miller Silverman.
For my story, I wanted to talk to people in the industry who were victims. I put out numerous feelers via various contacts and...nothing. Well, not quite. I knew at least two people who knew victims but had no success in getting them to talk to me. And then, via a third contact, a woman decided to talk to me about her story. It took her three days to muster the courage. During our 90-minute interview, I think I forgot to exhale. This musician told me one helluva story about a famous rock musician, the full details of which I'm not able to reveal. She asked for anonymity because she's not a famous musician and she feared the "court of public opinion." Even so, she was very brave to tell me her story, one she hasn't told to many people. I only wished I'd had more space to tell the full tale. But you can read her story in my piece.
I have a feeling that there are going to be many more stories about #MeToo abuses emerging from the music industry in the coming months and years. In the wake of the Ryan Adams story, Juliana Hatfield noted in a tweet, "i imagine that a lot of rock star guys are scared right now.”
Wednesday, February 27, 2019
The thing about rock stars is that we somehow expect them to live forever. We often forget that these musical gods are mere mortals. So when they die, we're seldom prepared for the news when it comes.
On Monday afternoon, I saw a tweet on Twitter that Mark Hollis of Talk Talk had died. It wasn't an official announcement—it was something more like a rumor. It seemed hard to believe. He was only 64 years old. But, since Hollis quit his professional music career 18 years ago, he's been so elusive, his life so private, that it's almost as if he had completely disappeared off the planet. No one knew anything about what he'd been up to. I imagine that Hollis was one of the inspirations for Nick Hornby's excellent novel Juliet, Naked (recently made into a movie) about a fictitious musician who mysteriously packed it all in and hadn't been heard of, let alone spotted, for decades.
By all accounts, Hollis was quite humble and quite ordinary in his down-to-earth nature (he wasn't the sort of exotic alien species of rock star like Bowie or Prince). Yet his disappearance and disinterest meant that fans bestowed upon him a mythos, a certain mystique—qualities that also apply to Talk Talk's utterly timeless music. During all those years since Hollis had exited the public square, I held out a faint hope that he'd pull a Kate Bush and announce a surprise shows as a solo artist or with a reunited Talk Talk. I would have flown cross-Atlantic for those shows, just as I did with Kate Bush. (Btw, few people know this but Hollis and Bush briefly tried writing in the studio together in the 1990s but it didn't work out. A shame. That tantalizing partnership remains one of music's great what ifs?) But Hollis was the rare artist who had little interest in returning for a cash-in reunion, writing a memoir, or producing a comeback album for the Spotify generation.
So when word of Hollis's death spread on Twitter on Monday and the confirmations began to arrive, I sat down at my laptop and spent three feverish hours writing a lengthy obituary/appreciation for Under the Radar magazine. (The piece doesn't flow and breathe the way I would've liked but it was a rush job to get something up on the website.)
it was a sad moment for an ardent fan such as myself. The finality of the selfish wish for a return of some sort so that we could have more of his remarkable gift.
...But he'd already given us so much. He endured a torturous experience in making of The Spirit of Eden and Laughing Stock. (Things were so bad that engineer Phill Brown's wife told him that if he did that if he ever spent that many months locked in a studio again that he could move out.)
So it's best to be grateful to Hollis for those beautiful works he created for Talk Talk and as a solo artist. They include five albums that don't sound dated and whose qualities ensure that they will remain timeless masterpieces.
This week I've swapped emails with several musicians who were as deeply affected by Mark's passing as I was. We all know how special he was. I also emailed Toby Benjamin who runs the Spirit of Talk Talk fansite on Facebook. Several years ago, Toby spearheaded a beautiful and informative book titled Spirit of Talk Talk, cowritten by music writer Chris Roberts (read his tribute piece here) and longtime Talk Talk visual artist James Marsh. (I also contributed some interviews about Talk Talk with Elbow's Guy Garvey, Robert Plant, Glenn Phillips, Richard Barbieri, and David Torn). Toby also put together a Talk Talk tribute album featuring King Creosote, White Lies, Zero 7, Jayson Little, Turin Brakes, Goldheart Assembly, Joan As Police Woman, Duncan Sheik, Nils Frahm, The Acorn, Alan Wilder, and Linton Kwesi Johnson. (Apparently Hollis's favorite track on it was a classical music version of April 5th by Matthius Vogt Trio.)
In my email to Toby, I expressed how much it would have meant to Mark Hollis if he could have seen all the love and affection in the tributes to him. Toby responded, "Mark wouldn't care about any of it. Its a nice thought but he was really beyond all praise and adulation of any kind. He did it and moved on."
Fans such as Toby and myself will find it harder to move on. Thank you, Mark, for creating transcendent art that has affected so many of us inside the most intimate part of our souls.