Currently viewing the category: "Music"
  • “The Beatles are not merely awful, I would consider it sacrilegious to say anything less than that they are godawful. They are so unbelievably horrible, so appallingly unmusical, so dogmatically insensitive to the magic of the art, that they qualify as crowned heads of anti-music.” — William F. Buckley Jr, 1964.*
  • On jazz: “An idiotic little hammer knocks dryly  one, two, three, ten, twenty knocks. Then, like a clod of mud thrown into crystal-clear water, there is wild screaming, hissing, rattling, wailing, moaning, cackling. Bestial cries are heard: neighing horses, the squeal of a brass pig, crying jackasses, amorous quacks of a monstrous toad…this excruciating medley of brutal sounds is subordinated to a barely perceptible rhythm. Listening to this screaming music for a minute or two, one conjures up an orchestra of madmen, sexual maniacs, led by a man-stallion beating time with an enormous phallus.”– Maxim Gorky, 1928@
  • “If you would have your son soft, womanish, unclean, smooth-mouth, affected to bawdry, scurrility, filthy rimes, and unseemly talking; briefly if you would have him, as it were, transnatured into a woman or worse, and inclined to all kinds of whoredom abomination, set him to dancing school and to learn music, and than you shall not fail at your purpose. And if you would have your daughter riggish, bawdry and unclean, and a filthy speaker and suchlike, bring her up in music and dancing and my life for yours, you have won the goal.”– Phillip Stubbes, 1583#
  • Supposedly from a list of Nazi prohibitions on jazz (the music itself was not entirely banned, but rather it had to be proper sort of jazz): “5) strictly prohibited is the use of instruments alien to the German spirit (so-called cowbells, flexatone, brushes, etc.) as well as all mutes which turn the noble sound of wind and brass instruments into a Jewish-Freemasonic yowl (so-called wa-wa, hat, etc.);”–Rest over here at The Atlantic.
  • “If you don’t thrill to Mr. Kinkade’s magnificent landscapes of bridges, cottages, streams, and profusely blooming gardens, all glowing in light from sun, moon, or lamp, you are probably a member of the sniveling ‘art establishment.’ Mr. Kinkade eschewed the nihilism, obscenity, and utter nonsense of modern “art” in favor of truth and beauty.”– Becky Akers, Lew Rockwell blog.

And this particularly sad one:

  • “I had not come to be their guest that night; for, it being New Year’s Day, several of the neighbors were met together to divert themselves by dancing country dances. By the advice of my companions I went in amongst them whilst a woman was dancing a jig. At my first entrance I endeavored to shew the folly of such entertainments, and to convince her how well pleased the devil was at every step she took. For some time she endeavored to outbrave me; neither the fiddle nor she desisted; but at last she gave over, and the musician laid aside his instrument…Christ triumphed over Satan. All were soon put to silence…”– George Whitefield, 1740#

Bonus points for several hilariously paleo quotes about culture that my friend Ricardo has written on my facebook.

Anyone else have any favorites?

(H/T *The Deceleration of Independents, #:A Renegade History of the United States, @QI)

It’s just a silly list, “Songs to Co-Opt for Libertarian Ends”. It was initially a WordPress post over here.

I am going to try to start writing for them more and more. Their superior ability to explain economics is most intimidating, but thankfully I can make stupid bullet points and incessantly tout that greatest of anthems, Steve Earle’s “Copperhead Road.”

“Where Eagles Dare” by the Misfits; urge to: pump fist and poorly hardcore dance while screaming: “I ain’t no God damn son of a bitch!”.

-”Copperhead Road” by Steve Earle; need to: put fist in air in manner of fratty guy or hipster, both of whom sincerely adore “Don’t Stop Believing” but you hate that song. Flail extra from “they draft the white trash first round here anyway” line until end, scream “now the DEA’s got a chopper in the air!”

“Carry Me Back to Virginia” by Old Crow Medicine Show; must: do some sort of flat-footing while moshing and thinking about poor Confederate soldiers.

“Drunken Lullabies”  by Flogging Molly; used to while restless at age 15-17: actually run into walls of house, closet doors, due to lack of available mosh pit.

“Harlem River Blues” by Justin Townes Earle; you: wave your arms, clap, walk around and generally feel the gospel spirit, which is weird since the song is about committing suicide.

“Oh, Susquehanna” by Defiance Ohio; just: mosh with killingly folk punk earnestness, especially when the girl starts singing.

“Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance; unashamedly: bounce like the mallpunk you never were, even if you technically saw them open for Green Day in 2005, but didn’t pay a lot of attention.

“I Wanna Dance With Somebody” by Whitney Houston; dance; for two thirds of the song, get kind of bored, think about how sweet Whitney’s eye makeup is in the video.

“You Ain’t Woman Enough To Take My Man” by Loretta Lynn; country-slink a bit: think about numerous unavailable men who are attractive, apologize in your mind to Loretta.

“Calamity Song” by the Decemberists; sit up straight; write a few bracing words in a Microsoft Word doc because of that excellent beginning, nod because you are just so pumped for your montage of productivity, even if this song seems to be about the end of the world.

“Suffragette City” by David Bowie; dance, using more hips and shoulders than usual: repeat the words you know which are “hey, man” and “suffragette city!” and don’t forget “wham, bam, thank you ma’am.”

“Riot Squad” by Cock Sparrer; he’s in the riot squad: ooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh.

-etc.

-etc.