Epic 10 Addendum

This is just a quick post to clear up any confusion. Your Epic 10 List should be a miscellaneous list of your favorite things of 2008. For example, a list could include your favorite song, favorite new tv show obsession, what you consider to be the best news story of the year... etc. The important thing is that you're not picking ONE category like "youtube videos" and picking your top ten videos. You would pick your favorite youtube video and put it in your miscellaneous Epic 10 List.

Another point: the cultural artifacts, be they books, music, or films, don't have to have come out in 2008. However, YOU have to have come across them and experienced their epic-ness over the course of 2008. The point of the Epic 10 is to make each item as personal as possible. It's not enough to list what you consider to be the "best song of 2008." Tell us WHY it is the best song and tell us what experience you had with it that made it truly epic. You've only got ten spots so make sure you choose wisely.

As far as WHEN you should post, any time from now till the new year would be fine. So start gathering your personal Epic 10!

I'd also like to officially welcome Chris to the elite class of Epic Mailers. He has already proven himself a worthy mailer with his first post.

Mannie Fresh, Maximalism, and the Politics of Bigness

To make my introduction to the esteemed, venerable Epic Mail properly "big," it seems only appropriate, while our experts toil away at cracking the Chris Dane Owens code, to pay respects to the Godfather of Bigness, the Maven of Maximalism: Mannie Fresh. Former Big Tymer (c), Fresh in 2004 trumped his temporal bigness to release a banger examining the very reality of big itself.

Consider:

Taken with the video (which for copyright purposes is unembeddable, but can be seen here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vZ8Cpnjoggc), Fresh offers a framework for the signification of bigness. However, this is not an attempt to define bigness; for Fresh, bigness does not need smallness to offer contrast, it constructs its meaning by extension, not exclusion. What we see in the video are simulacra of bigness - oversized telephones, nearly impossible car modifications, exaggerated blue book values. Yet the axis of contrast is where this bigness intersects with the surrounding scene of urban poverty. Our first indication of Fresh's proportions of bigness come at the very second line of the song; the line "house real big" is met with an image strikingly different from our Cribs-influenced notion of rappers' residential grandeur.



I don't believe Fresh is making an ironic point that this house isn't big, for that would seem to contradict the very core of his maximalist philosophy. Merely that, compared to the barber shop we see later and the shotgun houses which Fresh sets as a backdrop for his street scenes, this house is, undeniably, big. It derives its bigness from dominating its own proportioned space, which is as close as I can come to a definition of Fresh's "bigness".

Consider also the example of the supposed "little person" Fresh's "king of the hood" persona takes as a sidekick.



This sidekick is not a foil of smallness to Fresh's bigness; he is, perhaps, an accomplice in bigness. This character, a Hervé Villechaize for the African-American South, is an inversion of bigness that in turn confirms the very action of bigness itself. When Fresh decides to trade his Maybach for a fleet of Cadillacs, this character is the first to receive one, before the large troop of Fresh's chums standing in the background. This character tells Fresh, "Boss, that's big, boss; real big." Despite all of Fresh's recitations of "real big" and its permutations, nowhere does this maximalist mantra carry more weight than when said by this small man. He embodies the very type of "littleness," yet in performance, in action he confirms just how big he is.

All this, I offer as a statement applicable to our own endeavors into epicness. Perhaps there is some concrete definition of epicness, but the best (and most bloggable) way to approach it is through an induction of things that are, recognizably, "epic." It is a peculiar linguistic extension that the attribution of this quality precedes the definition of it. Yet it is not incorrect or misdirected. Chris Dane Owens: undeniably epic; Lil Wayne: the very character of epicness itself (who, not coincidentally, makes an appearance with Fresh in one of the most epic party scenes of the "Real Big" video).



Epic Mail, then, exists as a prolegomena to epicness. It points towards that which is epic, and by doing so stumbles upon manifestations of epicness in itself. Epic Mail is the legitimate "king of its hood," without need for defining the boundaries of this hood. As we move forward in pursuit of epicness, perhaps it is appropriate to look towards Mannie Fresh as a guide, a parallel framework to understand the construction of bigness and epicness. And most assuredly we should look towards an elaboration of this philosophy in Fresh's next album, the promisingly titled "From Big to Huge."

The Epic 10 of the Year

Fellow Bloggers and Readers,

It's that time of year again. The Santa Clause, Elf, and Christmas with the Kranks are playing non-stop on every movie channel on television. Pumpkin pies are baking, photos from christmas tree decoration parties are being posted on facebook, and children circa age 8 are finding out that Santa is really just mom and dad. The holiday season is also the season, at least in the cyber world, for end of the year litsts. Hipsters everywhere are sitting by their computers anxiously awaiting to see whether Pitchfork will affirm their favorite musical picks of the year or enrage them by picking some obscure artist like Fuck Buttons for album of the year.

At Epic Mail we'd like to start something a little different. Since we're not exclusively a music, movie, literature, or political blog but a little bit 'o everything, each epic blogger will post his own "Epic 10" list for 2008. Ten things - absolutely anything - of 2008. Personal stories, favorite songs/books/youtube videos, best macks, most epic "Ohhhhhh!" moment... anything as long as it 1) happened in 2008 and 2) is justifiably epic. I'd ask each blogger to spend some time on this post. Gather videos, links, and short explanations for this end of the year round-up.

Any reader who would like to contribute a guest Epic 10 List should email one of us and we'll post it (so long as it meets Epic Mail standards).

In other year-end news, Andy is taking a look back over our short blogosphere career and is compiling a top 10 list of Epic Mail posts that will be coming shortly. We're trying to work in some kind of reader poll to determine popular opinion. Any ideas/comments are welcome. Get to work on your Epic 10 List, epic mailers.

The Day the Music Died: Bye Bye Bye to TRL?

Get ready to cut your life into pieces: TRL is no more. I found this out last week and I was wholly unprepared for the news. Carson Daly, Vanessa Minillio, Damien Fahey, Suchin Pak, Sway... they're gone? Yes, my friends, the streets of Times Square will once again be empty of the smiling pre-pubescent faces of the thirteen year old girls who once lined the sidewalks every afternoon hoping to catch a glimpse of the drummer from the All-American Rejects and to get their scream heard through the glass of the studio window that loomed eight stories above them. If you're like me, and you undoubtedly are, you are beginning to ask yourself the terrible, haunting question: Where will I be able to watch 20 seconds of a music video interspersed with teen shout outs/freak outs?

In doing research for this post, I discovered that MTV is planning a new music-centered show called FNMTV, so you can rest easy knowing that there will always be a place, however small and insignificant, for music on MTV. The new show will feature some jack-ass called "Wentz" and will contain more feedback from viewers-who-aren't-like-you. Although, as Gideon Yago put it, MTV has largely stripped itself of the "music" and has spent the better part of our lifetime becoming a "youth lifestyle channel."

I can honestly say that I never voted for a single video on TRL. I cannot remember the last time I watched the show, a replay, or even saw a commercial for it. Carson Daly is always a great obscure reference but since I left middle school that's about the only interaction I've had with the show. However, in the same way that American Bandstand catalogued the music that was relevant for decades of kids across America, so too has TRL defined our generation. TRL was never about the music - it was about us. We voted for videos that we wanted to see. We interrupted videos by popping up in a little pip screen at the bottom of the video screaming "TRL!!!!" Stars came on the show to see us. The illusion that MTV presented to us was that we were in control of the youth culture. Even when we knew that we were being marketed to with manufactured boy bands like 98 degrees or "teen angst" music like Limp Bizkit, TRL allowed us to feel like we were responsible for the rise and fall of artists in the pop music industry. Now we've got YouTube. We don't need Carson Daly to tell us what the top song of the week is... we know that it's "Shine On Me" by Chris Dane Owens.

The real message I want to convey is that I'm actually mourning the loss of TRL. I feel like I'm longing for a childhood culture for which I was always on the sidelines. Why couldn't I enjoy seeing Limp Bizkit's cover of "Faith" in the top spot on a Tuesday afternoon? What was so wrong with "Freak on a Leash?" The whole bullet thing was actually kind of sweet! I'm sure that there are plenty of people for whom 80s nostalgia is somewhat of an assumed ex post facto identity and I guess that's partially what I'm doing now. But I'm also mourning the loss of a cultural anchor. Can I really hate this new FNMTV and decry its perpetuation of soul-less mass-marketed music? I guess, but I feel no real antipathy towards it. I'll probably just ignore it. The passing of TRL is mirroring the passage of my youth and I cringe at the thought of turning into a bitter James Murphy-like figure who cannot help but lament the usurpation of his cool by "the kids." From now on I'm out of touch with the real youth of America. The cultural vernacular that we knew - the acronyms and band names that were relevant to us, whether we liked them or not - are losing currency and new memes are being forged in the fires of adolescence to we which we will never be privy. Should it be any surprise to us that we're our own worst enemy?

So go out and buy BuzzCuts and look back with fondness on the days when Papa Roach used to blow our minds. Farewell, TRL. We'll miss you.

Shine: A Critical Commentary Part II

See other posts in the "Chris Dane Owens" series.

Credit must be given to Newman, who has unearthed this recent interview with Chris Dane Owens. I'm not quite sure whether it answers questions or takes us further down the rabbit hole. Regardless, take note how Owens exhorts us to "attach [our] own meaning to it" (this does not mean, however, that I did not feel a tinge of smug satisfaction when he verified my resurrection theory, but more on this anon).

We left off with Chris and Virtuous Babe's romantic interlude cut short by the arrival of a squadron of dragons. In apparent response to this imminent threat, a blade hath been forged.

Judging by the regal and pregnant visage of the lead Witch, this is no simple giveaway. No, something is required of Chris if he is to wield this broadsword (or is it a rapier?). Following a close inspection of the blade, Chris deems it suitable, and we get a brief shot of him slashing about, i.e. training. To me, the following is then one of the most powerful shots in the video:

His training complete, the warrior prepares for battle. His tortured countenance conveys both steely resolution and lingering doubt. Chris is nothing else if not human (we may have to revise this statement). A fleet of dragons, a Masked Villain, and God knows what else (alligators) awaits him. The drums of war sound. Our own blogger Andy found himself rather vexed at the interposition of these shots that seem to reveal a colonial aesthetic. Specifically, he leveled an implicit accusation of anachronism. While I can't deny having had similar initial sentiments, I've come to appreciate the variety of historical aesthetics that Owens employs in this video. Though the colonial gear might seem odd, notice how nicely it meshes with the winter sleigh, and how smoothly it elides with the more pirate-esque, high seas look of certain scenes. From there it isn't a long shot to the late-Medieval atmospherics we've already witnessed. I'd argue that the genius of the video lies in this very fluidity.

Anyway, let us move on to triptych number three:

Here are three members of what I will be referring to as Chris' "crew." The one in the center will be "The Captain," and the one to the right will be christened "The Lieutenant." Several things strike me as significant here. First of all, Owens, in a typically self-deprecating move, places himself at the edge of the shot. But I want to suggest that something more complex and potentially subversive is at play here. Note the suggestively unbuttoned shirt of The Captain, his enticing, even longing, gaze, and the disco lighting in the cathedral within which he is situated. What I'm suggesting is that this firmly homosocial environment seems to contain a subtext of homosexual desire. The central positioning of The Captain could be a manifestation of Chris' desire (if we are to identify Chris with the auteur Owens), while The Captain's intentions, as I've suggested, are visually apparent. Certainly part of Chris' journey is towards an affirmation of a heteronormative vision of romantic love.

At this point in the video, the "real" chronology becomes rather difficult to follow, because there is an effusion of dream visions and nostalgic reveries that appear on-screen. Thus, when we see the warrior Chris strutting across an ice-bridge, it is only through a kind of internal cognitive association that we find ourselves with the firmly antebellum vision of a picturesque sleigh-ride. In actuality, we will learn, Chris has gone to war at sea. But first we see the Angel bequeathing a mysterious tome unto Virtuous Babe. In this scene, my earlier suggestion that the Angel may harbor feelings for Chris should not be neglected, as this scene opens up the possibility of a sort of vicarious eroticism. What I mean is that by providing Virtuous Babe with this text, through which she can observe Chris' trials at sea, she is in part engaging in a masochistic urge to unite the two before her very eyes, while the possibility of Chris' death offers its own potential sadistic pleasures. The Angel's heavenly appearance belies a more sinister nature, as one can read distinctly in her eyes:

Moving through the magical text onto the stormy seas, Chris confidently pilots his schooner, aided by The Captain, who, giving the order with a swing of his cutlass, orders a fusillade of cannon-shot against an enemy vessel, subsequently igniting the ship's ammo depot, and causing an immense explosion. Despite these early victories, however, we observe the Witches actually causing a monsoon that ultimately wrecks Chris' flagship. We can account for this by remembering that the Witches charged Chris with a trial. His talismanic sword is to be purchased with a cost. He must be tested. And as the image of Chris swinging defiantly towards the viewer on a line of rigging attests, he will pass.

Careening into the water, however, and following a remarkable spin move, a washed-up Chris can be seen on a forest floor, not moving...

Part III will be posted shortly. And to be honest, I will almost certainly need a Part IV. Additionally, if anyone can think of a possible way to do footnotes in these posts, please let me know so I can avoid so many parenthetical remarks (I've been chastised for this by professors in recent weeks).

And remember, as always, LOVE HAS ENEMIES.

Shine: A Critical Commentary Part I

See other posts in the "Chris Dane Owens" series.

First of all, a big thank you to Mr. Beers for his brief gloss on Shine. It ought to serve as a fitting introduction to anyone unfamiliar with Chris Dane Owens' oeuvre. As someone who is both heavily emotionally invested in Mr. Owens' work and semi-professionally employed in the industry of criticism, I would like to offer my own reading, as it were, of Shine. I will offer a fairly comprehensive interpretation of Shine, and follow it up with potential critical problems for which I still need solutions. This is intended to be, ultimately, a blog-wide effort.

Addendum: I will not be regarding the lyrics as being in any way related to the imagery of the music video. If you can find some way to reconcile the two in any meaningful way, you deserve the utmost admiration of us all. Additionally, this is only Part I of the analysis - Parts II and III will be along shortly.

To begin with, Chris Dane Owens presents us with deliberate Dickensian echoes: "A Time of Darkness" and "A Time of Light," paired devastatingly next to one another. I think quite a bit of the critical confusion that this video occasions is a result of Owens' fascination with paradox. "Who are the good guys?" and "Who are the bad guys?" are not always operative questions in a universe as complex as that of Owens. At the same time, as if to taunt the would-be critic, Owens posits a "crusade," which denotes an undertaking inspired by a particular cause, thus inviting the viewer to engage in very sort of binary thinking already having been rejected.

Several gorgeous shots of natural beauty follow, and we soon encounter our ostensible hero, played by none other than Owens himself (with a mustache, so as to not confuse him with the singer himself, though I will, for convenience's sake, refer to him as Chris). Chris, delicately prancing about in a babbling brook, encounters Virtuous Babe, who finds herself enraptured with Chris after he performs a stunt involving his horse leaping over a log. In a scene establishing the rather medieval gender politics of our setting, Chris then chivalrously seats Virtuous Babe on his steed, and leads them daintily through the stream.

Importantly, note the brief shot of the schooner around this point - this temporal aberration is known as "foreshadowing" for those of us in the business of literary criticism. Underscoring the ominous tone is the diptych that follows:

The image is literally riven in two - an inauspicious sign to say the least, pointing unmistakably at a future separation. After more prancing, the romance is boldly subverted: Chris is braving a volley of ice-comets with only a shield to protect him, three threatening women approach bearing blades, and a masked villain confronts Chris and Virtuous Babe in the magical wood. I will return to the ice-comets later, but I want to first discuss the Three Witches, as I will call them.

Part of Mr. Owens' project, I would argue, is a feminist reevaluation of Tolkein. The stances and costumes of the Three Witches here undeniably mimic those of the Black Riders in Peter Jackson's films. But the Witches have an almost unfathomably long genealogy: the Weird Sisters of Shakespeare's Macbeth, the Fates of Greek mythology, the Norns of Norse legend, the list goes on and on. What tethers these various trios together is the power of foresight, often coupled with an ability to manipulate fate. Keep this in mind.

Exhibiting an almost obsessive fondness for medieval aesthetics, Owens then employs a triptych framework for his next shot:

On the left, our masked villain, shrouded in flames. In the middle, the foremost of the Witches. To the right, an unknown figure, but one who bears an unmistakable resemblance to Chris. The key here is that the face is superimposed over a graveyard. The sepulchral imagery once again gestures towards a gruesome foreshadowing. The Witch, appropriately then, is situated quite literally "beyond good and evil."

After a rather unsatisfying fight scene with Masked Villain (he is defeated with a mere punch), yet another mysterious figure it thrust at us through yet another triptych: the angel. Her positioning on the far right, so as to be opposite Virtuous Babe, suggests potential discord between the two. The implication is that they both may be vying for Chris' love and affection. Further complicating things is the following shot:

A mirror image of the Three Witches, it is absolutely critical to note that THESE ARE NOT THE THREE WITCHES. These are an entirely different set of beings with entirely different intentions and priorities. We are certainly urged to consider their relationship to the Three Witches (about which I will have more to say), but do not confuse the two. Anyway, the Masked Villain having been temporarily vanquished, Chris and Virtuous Babe are free to smooch in the wood and jog through the snow once more...though dragons are on the horizon.....

With that, I will conclude Part I. I'd appreciate any thoughts you have thus far, but otherwise, make sure to check out Part II, which I will post tomorrow.

Remember, LOVE HAS ENEMIES.

The Soul is Located in the Chest

See other posts in the "Chris Dane Owens" series.

I just watched this video, as first blogged about by our own Matt. This is mandatory viewing.

What happened? Did Chris Dane Owens just waltz into my life, reach into my chest, and, with much pomp, touch my soul? Is the chest even where the soul is located? Most importantly, could the fanciful reality that exists within C.D.O.'s mind pull me out of blog-sabbatical? The answers are: Providence; Yes; Probable; and obviously, Yes.

I'm finding it difficult to organize my thoughts, however. I think it's safe to chalk that one up to the schizophrenic cinematography, which has mind-scattering effects similar to that of heroin, fire alarms, or a Vietnam flashback. Let me be clear -- that isn't necessarily a bad thing.

At first glance, "Shine" lays siege to the concepts of sustained thought and traditional storytelling. It seems to synthesize elements from Lord of the Rings, Master and Commander, and Dragon Ball Z into a stunningly ambitious four-minute window. Despite repeated viewing, I was unable to connect more than a handful of frames into a coherent story element. The only "themes" that revealed themselves to me were a stubborn refusal to choose a consistent temporal or physical setting, and a recurring set of three women. And I was hesitant to identify the women as a theme, since each successive appearance places them in such a ludicrously unrelated context that any attempt to derive meaning from them was akin to putting my brain into a food processor.

Oh, cool, they're Dark Knights.

Oh, wait, ok, they're some do-good angels!

Ok, hold on -- a dragon-queen triumvirate?

Witches? What?

Futuristic Charlie's Angels? COME ON

With much persistence and a blog-wide effort, especially from Matt S, I'm starting to grasp the narrative depth and, perhaps, coherence, of this video. And so despite feeling, mentally, like Harrison Bergeron, let's set in motion the proper analytical treatment that "Shine" deserves.

Obviously, our first pressing question to address is: "Who IS Chris Dane Owens?" I could draw equal physical comparisons to Vincent Price, Legolas, and those ghost-twins from "The Matrix Reloaded." With a bit of gumption and some internet digging, contributor Matt N found an excellent primer to all things C.D.O. -- this interview with the LA Times music blog.

With this background under our belts, I would like to highlight a few aspects of this video that vex me. For starters, there are a few shots that seem wholly out of place. I'm aware that "Shine" attempts to create a genre-transcending, mis-en-scene-borrowing mega-world -- but certain scenes are just downright puzzling:

Is this a colonial drumline?

Another source of confusion (although perhaps my favorite scene) comes up at just before the halfway mark, when we're abruptly introduced to a Chris Martin-esque captain, who apparently detonates an enemy ship with a flick of his sabre. Questions immediately arise: "Whose ship just exploded?" and, "Is Chris Martin an ally, or an enemy?" (his questionable facial expressions impel me towards the latter).

This (above) suddenly leads to this (below)

As much as I love this video, C.D.O. has a frustrating penchant for following up his totally sweet scenes (and some of them are totally sweet) with lackluster shot. For example:

Sweet
Not Sweet
Sweet
Not Sweet
Totally Sweet
Incredibly Not Sweet
And we're back to sweet

Of course, the common theme of these "not sweet" shots is C.D.O.'s love interest. I understand that the power of their love is one of the main messages in this video, but I would have preferred that it was represented with the same passion and vigor as the action shots.

I'm confident that my brief criticism will be overshadowed by our further investigation of "Shine." After all, Owens has given us the greatest gift a man can give: the redemptive light of his chest-cavity (the soul?).

BREAKING: Blago!

Today the blogosphere (Blagosphere?) is abuzz over the hilariously corrupt antics of Illinois Governor Rod R. Blagojevich. Black nerd blogger Ta-Nehisi Coates at the Atlantic sums it up in terms we Epic Mailers can understand:

"Incredible. Blagojevich was already under investigation. And then he tries to sell Obama's Senate seat? I don't think I've ever seen anything like this. This dude tried to auction the Senate seat of the President-Elect of the United States. Wow. They haven't even invented a machine that can calculate the Fail Factor here. I do believe we have gone to Interstellar Fail. Intergalactic, perhaps."

If possible, I'd like to see Matt "Chicago Machine Politics" Newman give us an inside look at the insanity brewing in Al Capone's abode, but before then, I just want to be the millionth person to point out what an enormous bullet Obama has dodged here. Honestly, the whole process of appointing vacant Senate seats is shady as hell, and it's not uncommon to find pretty blatant cases of nepotism and back-stratching. It wouldn't have been odd for Obama's team to have at least considered giving Blagojevich or his wife an appointment to some post in return for the Senate appointment they wanted. Luckilly, they're much smarter than that, and word on the street is that total baller and personal hero of mine Rahm Emmanuel is the one who blew the whistle on Blagojevich. But before doing so, he made sure that federal investigators have Blago (who's every third word is "fuck") on tape calling Obama a "motherfucker" and saying "They're not willing to give me anything... Fuck Obama".

Said Blagojevich as he was arrested at his home this morning: "The bitch set me up!"

Is advertising sweet?

See other posts in the "Is this sweet?" series.

As has been mentioned on this blog before, I'm in marketing. I generally enjoy advertising, especially when it is particularly clever or informative. As a favorite professor once said, "good advertising doesn't offend me."

I don't intend to turn this space into one which dissects advertising, but has this ad gone too far? Should we be offended?

I get all amped about Psychocandy, stand-up drum kits and wayfarers, and then am directed to associate those positive feelings with high-end German perfume for women. No thank you. You can't even smell perfume through a monitor (yet?).

This could simply partake in the larger indie-song-as-jingle craze (though the pure jingle is making a comeback and I don't feel similarly betrayed by any number of bands I enjoy featured in Apple spots and the like). Maybe J&MC just hits a little too close to home. Or perhaps my discomfort is not so simply located in that favored cry of adolescents nationwide, "man, those guys totally sold out."

I think I'm most bothered as a marketer. Looks like the folks on the Boss account at Procter & Gamble are getting lazy and don't intend to carry core choices about the brand across their campaign. Did you see the expensive pant-suit this woman is wearing? Are we really associating this immaculately primped woman in a city high-rise apartment with two of the filthiest looking brothers ever to revolutionize rock? Did P&G do anything other than listen to the intro and read the first few lyrics from 'Just Like Honey?' Who sees this and thinks "$60 fragrance"? This woman clearly cares far too much about the state of her hair.

Is this what I have to endure for J&MC to get enough money for the new album and some added tour dates? Does this mean that the Reids have become Dylanesque (soon to be Weezian?) in more than their prophetic musical ability?

I'm not sure, but you won't catch me wearing Femme any time soon.

THIS. is sweet.

See other posts in the "Chris Dane Owens" series.

OK, where to start? The lack of a coherent historical or aesthetic backdrop (pirates? Tolkein? 18th century London?), the complete absence of anything resembling an identifiable narrative (trust me, I've watched this about 25 times, and still can't figure out what the floating skeletons with fire inside their ribcages are doing), the mustache, the obscenely enormous hordes of CGI dragons, the inexplicably large budget, the mustache...we could really create an entire blog devoted to the sort of hermeneutical gymnastics that something like this deserves. The only thing it lacks (and it feels heretical to offer even the slightest criticism) is Chris Dane Owens shredding a sick solo on that glittering abomination of his. That brief quibble aside, I think it's safe to say that if there ever were an objet d'art about which one needn't ask the question, "Is this sweet?", this video is it.