Language Is A Virus

The word 'awesome' is getting some heat lately. I've read many times recently how the word is overused, or seldom used in its correct form ... which is primarily to communicate something both fearful and wondrous, such as a massive lighting storm, or the Titanic going down.

But it has been used more recently to denote 'good' or 'cool.' You'll hear it in common speech a lot, particularly from kids and the loathesome George W. Bush. Now, it seems the language gatekeepers are complaining about it, and want it to be employed only in its 'correct' form.

You'll find such rants here, here and here.

Dictionary.com defines the word thusly:

Awesome – adjective

1.	inspiring awe: an awesome sight.

2.	showing or characterized by awe.

3.	Slang. very impressive: That new white convertible is totally awesome.

The third definition is very important: Slang.

One thing the word and language gatekeepers fail to understand is that language is a living thing. It's always changing, always growing and evolving. Semiotics is a fascinating world of study, and it proves that language is never just one thing; it is many things to many people -- in fact, it has an almost infinite amount of variety and meaning and use. To say a word is used incorrectly is to misunderstand the true function of language itself.

Most of us adhere to the social contract that the word 'red' denotes a certain color that falls in a certain place on the color spectrum. Simple, right? But that's only because we all say that's what it is. 'Red' of course can mean lots of things -- embarrassed, angry, in debt, violent, whatever.

It can also be a code word, something which gets to the heart of language usage, which is to say that words are signifiers for groups -- she who gets the usage of a term is in, he who does not get the usage is out.

Thus, to say any word is used incorrectly -- that's bunk. Language is a tool, not an end in an of itself. A word means whatever you want it to mean. If your eggs are 'awesome,' that's perfectly valid. If the new playground at your school is 'awesome,' that's great. If your shoes you just got are 'awesome,' go with it.

And don't let the language snobs tell you or anyone else what is 'correct.' There is no correct in language; there is only the way YOU use it.

Willam S. Burroughs was right: Language is a virus.

Social Networks, I Apologize

Much like David Letterman being repentant this week, with Sarah Palin accusing him of being a comedian, I must admit I was wrong about Twitter and, uh ... okay, Facebook, too.

First of all, I wrote a post a couple weeks ago about the two popular social networks and their supposed lack of real content. It seemed to be all very narcissistic 'all about me' kinda things, and I maintain it still really is, to some extent. I saved particular venom for Twitter, with its limited character count and extremely terse form of communication.

But that was before the revolution in Iran. Wow. Twitter seems to have played a major role in people communicating with each other even though the traditional lines of communication were shut down. I've heard that Facebook played a role as well.

When entire countries have revolutions enabled by certain technology, it's probably a good thing to appreciate that technology. So I will. I've since joined Facebook as an experiment recently, and found it kinda ... fun.

Okay, enough groveling.

Neutral

Neutral is the debut feature film (and it is indeed a film) from Asheville-based filmmaker Joe Chang. Gorgeously captured on old-school 16mm by the brilliant Greg Hudgins, Neutral is sort of like Asheville's Slacker, but it's sweeter, more whimsical, and reveals a sensibility all its own.

Chang is definitely a comer; he seems to have things going on his head that no one else does, that's for sure. As a fellow filmmaker who's had to sacrifice for storytelling, I most admire Joe's drive and his courage for taking chances and not backing down from making films that aspire to be real art. He's scary good. And, yes, the movie does feature the acting debut of yours truly, a walk-on cameo in a film that features over 70 small parts.

Neutral recently had its DVD release party (which I attended), and Joe showed clips from his film, and several bands played. Joe's amazing band Single Engine Airplane was there, Jason Smith's inimitable Night's Bright Colors -- see the post about them below -- and a dynamic young combo called Kovacs and the Polar Bear, which reminds me of a young Wilco, blew everybody away. No hyperbole here; they fucking killed -- look them up on Myspace, they're terrific and have a great future ahead of them.

Joe showed some clips from an upcoming project called Days of War, Nights of Love. On his own website, he describes it thusly:

Days of War, Nights of Love is the working title of
Joe's second feature, which he is currently writing.
It's a surreal magical dreamy circus western
knight's tale adventure vaudevillian story taking
place in it's own little world with swords and
crossbows, horses and ostriches, kings and queens,
lotus flower children and traveling gypsies, tricked
out bounty hunters and crappy headphones, air balloons
and dentist chairs, instrument trees and rear
projections, jug bands and men with microphone faces,
and much more....

Joe Change, everybody ... Check him out at his production company, Papercookie.net.

Yesterday's Tomorrows

I read a lot of old science fiction. I don't know why, but I have a great affection for that pulpy, early 20th Century fantasy and SF. I re-read A Princess of Mars recently, Burroughs seminal first novel, and frankly, it seemed modern (the fact that I read it on my iPhone using the Stanza app may have helped). But they're making a movie of it now, and it feels like it could be the next Lord of the Rings.

I don't know, perhaps there is an innocence in that material, or an optimism. Or maybe the patterns were being set back then, and much modern stuff is just ... variations on a pattern. I always want to go back to the real thing and experience whatever it was that got everybody so excited in the first place. So I'm drawn to early science fiction.

To tip the hat to that early optimism, here's an article I recently found on Futility Closet, a cool site about various oddities here and there:

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'Martians Build Two Immense Canals in Two Years.'

How's that for a headline? It ran in the New York Times Sunday magazine on Aug. 27, 1911:

Canals a thousand miles long and twenty miles wide are simply beyond our comprehension. Even though we are aware of the fact that … a rock which here weighs one hundred pounds would there only weigh thirty-eight pounds, engineering operations being in consequence less arduous than here, yet we can scarcely imagine the inhabitants of Mars capable of accomplishing this Herculean task within the short interval of two years.

The Times was relying on Percival Lowell, who was convinced that a dying Martian civilization was struggling to reach the planet's ice caps. "The whole thing is wonderfully clear-cut," he'd told the newspaper — but he was already largely ostracized by skeptical colleagues who couldn't duplicate his findings. The "spokes" he later saw on Venus may have been blood vessels in his own eye.

Whatever his shortcomings, Lowell's passions led to some significant accomplishments, including Lowell Observatory and the discovery of Pluto 14 years after his death. "Science," wrote Emerson, "does not know its debt to imagination."

Laura Gibson

Not long ago I went to a Damien Jurado show, to check out some of his beautifully melodic and moody Appalachian-styled songs. The lady who opened his show, however, was a tall, thin chanteuse named Laura Gibson, who just absolutely knocked me out, coming across a little like a psychedelic Gillian Welch, or a female Tom Waits ... if he lived on a farm in the Northwest and didn't get out too much.

With a unique, quavery voice and a spooky and airy melodic approach, her music is both beautiful and jarring; the pieces don't quite fit, but in a good way. Her band plays saws and odd things and conjure up the creepiest but coolest (and, it should be said, often fun and jamming) vibe.

She seems to have a warm but steely stage presence, where she stares off into the audience, not really seeing anyone as she sings. She made long, uncomfortable eye contact with me, until I had to look away. But as I was looking into her eyes, and she into mine, I realized she wasn't seeing me. She was listening to herself sing. Spooky.

I've seen and heard a lot of music. This lady is something special.

Golden Blade 3

TJ Wiedow's Golden Blade 3 is the third part (of course) to his fantastically entertaining Golden Blade series. TJ, who lives in Asheville, is for my money the most talented filmmaker in the region. As a director he is amazingly dynamic ... and the fact that he does it all with very little budget to speak of makes his achievement all that much more incredible.

Full disclosure: I'm TJ's buddy, and helped him with his movie. But he's helped me with mine, too ...

Filmed in the highlands of North Carolina, Golden Blade 3 showcases some of the most amazing locations from this area ever put on tape. The movie occasionally shows its low budget, but the ingenuity and raw imagination far outweighs any money issues.

Even better, the movie is just smart.  Written by Wiedow and  Jason Greenalch, the script takes surprising turns, and comments wryly on everything from familial relationships to romance.

Showing soon at the Action on Film Festival in Los Angeles in July, Golden Blade 3 is the purposefully whacked tale of a man, a sword, a girl, and a gorllia. Or something. But that's the fun: it's a spoof. Or is it?

Brilliantly, TJ gets to have it both ways. A goofy action flick, a kung fu spoof, or an incredible independent film? All of the above.  Somebody give that boy a budget! And get the movie from WWW.GOLDENBLADE3.COM

A Seminal Rock Critic Needs Help

Like film criticism, serious rock music criticism has fallen away in recent years. With Roger Ebert the only serious (to my mind) film critic still around, the art of true journalistic rock criticism seems to be a thing of the past as well. Now, one of rock music's seminal pro's needs your help: Paul Williams, the founder of Crawdaddy! magazine is in ill health.

Most often associated with it's early championship of Bruce Springsteen and Phillip K. Dick, Paul's magazine was a counter-cultural rag much like the young Rolling Stone; back when Lester Bangs was a regular contributor, and Dave Marsh was still listening to the MC5, and Iggy Pop was still rolling around onstage in broken glass, Paul was more than a rock critic -- he was a cultural signifier.

In the words of journalist Bob Hill, "Paul Williams’ pieces weren’t just about music. They were about faith and struggle, religion and redemption, life and death, love and loss. They were about all the major themes that great songwriting is about. But Paul had the space and the freedom to go even deeper; to explore what exactly was at stake in every song and how—on any given night—rock ‘n’ roll had the power to break down the walls that kept people boxed in; to show us the edge without pushing us over."

Due to a head injury suffered in the late '90's, Paul now needs constant, round-the-clock care. As a writer, he never made much money, and now his medical bills are mounting. Please take a look at the following links, and maybe think about writing a check to help out one of music criticism's greatest.

Go to HERE to read more, or take a look at PAULWILLIAMS.COM to help out the man himself.