WBEZ 91.5 Chicago

Criticism is at its best when it’s a spirited dialogue between two people who care passionately about the art. And I can think of very few folks besides Brendan Diamond who have cared as much about the Flaming Lips for as long as I have.

Within an hour of me posting my review of The Terror last week, Brendan had responded in the comments section of this blog, and the back-and-forth we began there and on Twitter was revelatory because of two wildly divergent but equally passionate views on the latest from one of the most important bands of our generation. And because the Flaming Lips are that important, I thought it was worth expanding on our discussion and sharing it here.

For the record, here is Brendan’s official bio: Brendan Diamond is a musician, blogger, and former future rock critic whose insane love of psychedelic music led him to write a dissertation on the relationship between music and memory. He lives in Chicago with his fiancée Michelle.

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Last week, New York Times magazine critic Sam Anderson—who has a sidelight “Tweeting the best sentence I read every day”—singled out and passed along to his 10,000 followers something from one of my books.

You think I'm making chicken bc you like it, Jim, but I'm just making chicken bc I like to make chicken. (wayne coyne on artistic success)

— Sam Anderson (@shamblanderson) April 6, 2013

(quoted by jim derogatis in 'staring at sound: the true story of oklahoma's fabulous flaming lips')

— Sam Anderson (@shamblanderson) April 6, 2013

At the time it was first published, in 2006, that quote seemed profound in its typically folksy, self-effacing, P.T.

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“This is my happening and it freaks me out!”

Laura Emerick, Roger Ebert’s beloved editor at the Chicago Sun-Times (and one of my favorites as well), introduced me to the man at some stuffy function or other not long after I became the paper’s pop music critic in 1992.

Ebert was the reason I came to Chicago, the Sun-Times, and—second only to rock critic Lester Bangs—a life devoted to writing about and critiquing art. And the line I’d been waiting forever to say to him in person was the one he gave the acid guru Z-man in Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, the brilliantly campy 1970 cult classic that he co-wrote with big-bosoms-loving director Russ Meyer.

“This is my happening and it freaks me out!” I blurted as we shook hands.

Roger gave me the weirdest look I ever saw cross his face and turned and left without saying a word.

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Borrowing the concept from the Dean of American Rock Critics Robert Christgau, Sound Opinions hosts its roundup of foul feathered friends as an annual event thematically pegged to Thanksgiving. But the last few weeks have seen such an unseasonable bounty of turkeys—technically defined not merely as bad records, but as really bad records from artists we expected to do much, much better—that loathe as I’ve been to write about them, I’ll do so here as quickly and painlessly as possible in the interest of public service to you, dear readers.

Avoid the following if at all possible, and your life will be better for it.

The Strokes, Comedown Machine (RCA) [1/2 star on the four-star scale]

Early in the new millennium, after the sorry post-alternative depression of rap-rock and teen-pop, the two bands that offered hope of rock resurgence were the White Stripes and the Strokes.

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When WBEZ listener and blog-follower Patrick Gallagher found himself wondering about the best double bills ever hosted on our local concert stages, like many a stumped Chicagoan before him, he turned to the fine folks at the Curious City project. But this query is a bit different than others about hidden missile silos and long-gone amusement parks, because there really isn’t a definitive answer.

For one thing, no master list exists of concert pairings on the city’s many stages from the last seven decades—and that’s if we’re restricting ourselves to the rock ’n’ roll era.

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Most of the history books would have us believe that the business of writing about and critiquing rock ’n’ roll was invented and perfected by Rolling Stone magazine, launched by Jann Wenner in San Francisco in 1967. But as with so much about that fabled Summer of Love—or, indeed, about the thumbnail musical histories of any era—that version of the roots of rock criticism and journalism is complete and utter bull, and the real hero is ignored as we celebrate the myth.

That hero, Paul S. Williams, died on March 27 after a long and difficult battle with dementia.

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Sgt. Joseph Giambrone testified that Congress Theater staffers lied about serving alcohol when his unit arrived to investigate suspicions of underage drinking during a DJ Rusko set in the early hours of May 6, 2012.

Giambrone’s testimony came during a disciplinary hearing at City Hall Tuesday morning, the second conducted by Chicago’s Liquor Control Commission looking into alleged illegal activities at the Congress. WBEZ's Leah Pickett has more on the hearing.

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