Sunday, February 7, 2010

Little spoon's favorite 10 albums of the decade

Note: this is "favorite" albums, meaning those albums that I have played the most and gotten the most enjoyment out of that have come out in the past ten years. This is not a "best" albums list according to some ethereal standard of artistic greatness, although there would probably be quite a bit of overlap were I to make a list like that.

Figure 8
– Elliott Smith (2000)
If you can get over his voice, hipster cred, and trend towards self-pity, you end up with an absolutely brilliant singer-songwriter that, at his best, is half Dylan, half McCartney. This is his last non-posthumous album, his most richly-produced and Beatles-esque, and the only one to come out in the 2000s.
Favorite Tracks: “Son of Sam,” “Stupidity Tries,” “Happiness”

Love and Theft – Bob Dylan (2001)
Dylan's still going strong. I’m a huge sucker for old-time-y Americana type music, which he does surprisingly well.
Favorite Tracks: “Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum,” “Summer Days,” “High Water (for Charley Patton),” “Sugar Baby”

(Last Night We Were) The Delicious Wolves – Hawksley Workman (2001)
Amazing vocal, instrumental, and songwriting talent. Perfect pop with enough quirkiness and strangeness to keep it interesting. Plus, he played every instrument on the album (very well).
Favorite Tracks: “Striptease,” “Your Beauty Must Be Rubbing Off,” “Old Bloody Orange,” "You Me and the Weather"

A Rush of Blood to the Head – Coldplay (2003)
Hate on Coldplay all you want, but this has got to be one of the best pure pop-rock albums of the past 10 years. Simple but brilliant Britpop songwriting with a sheen of U2. The first five tracks alone are enough to put it on this list for me.
Favorite Tracks: “The Scientist,” “God Put a Smile on My Face,” “In My Place”

Franz Ferdinand – Franz Ferdinand (2004)
I couldn’t decide which of Franz’s albums to put up here. Tonight is darker and grittier and You Could Have it So Much Better has a better pop aesthetic, but the first one is just about flawless. Really not a bad track on the whole thing—even the throwaway “Cheating on You” is fun and catchy—and the best tracks are amazing. Plus, this album was my gateway drug for the world of contemporary music, and that’s irreplaceable.
Favorite Tracks: “Take Me Out,” “Michael,” “Darts of Pleasure”

Smile – Brian Wilson (2004)
A glimpse inside the mind of a completely psychotic genius, and a portrait of America in gleefully demented sing-along melodies. I had this album on in my car for most of my last year of high school. One of my biggest influences in terms of songwriting, vocal arrangements, and conceptual scope.
Favorite Tracks: “Heroes and Villains,” “Surf’s Up,” “Roll Plymouth Rock”…although you really just need to listen to the whole thing all the way through.

Funeral – Arcade Fire (2004)
If I had to pick a favorite, this might have to be it. By now, its echoey atmosphere, tinkly pianos, and heavy usage of solo violin has become the clichéd "Montreal sound," but nobody has ever done it with the emotional depth and epic quality they managed to pull off. The songs are atmospheric without sacrificing punch and songwriting quality, and powerful without being overwrought.
Favorite Tracks: “Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels),” “Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettles),” “Crown of Love,” “Rebellion (Lies),” “Wake Up” …actually, just the whole damn album.

In Rainbows – Radiohead (2007)
Radiohead does “sexy.” It works. Very, very well. Best (whatever that means) band of the past 20 years, and they’re still going strong.
Favorite Tracks: “Bodysnatchers,” “Nude,” “Jigsaw Falling into Place”

Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga – Spoon (2007)
Another case in which I could really put any of their albums in here, but this one is probably my favorite. This is how you do modern rock right. The most striking thing about this album, and all of Spoon's music, it that it’s all so damn spare. There’s not one instrument or vocal line or percussion track that doesn’t need to be there, and everything that is there is perfect. Britt Daniel’s gritty, nasal voice has the balls so often missing from modern music, and it just fits perfectly with the off-the-cuff style that belies the obvious extreme amount of care that went into every aspect of the album . This might have to be #2 if I had to rank them. I love this band that much. Plus, I actually like the drum sound.
Favorite Tracks: “You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb,” “Don’t You Evah,” “The Underdog,” “Rhthm and Soul,” “Finer Feelings”

Oracular Spectacular – MGMT (2008)
A perfect example of how to take the best from the past without living in it. Psychedelic/electro/rock/pop/dance/indie/folk/whatever. It’s all there, and it’s all mashed into one wonderful bubbling mess of great songs. I feel like “Kids” is going to be one of those tracks that will still be playing on the radio in 20 years. Although the album drops off a bit after the first side, the thing as a whole is brilliant.
Favorite Tracks: “Time to Pretend,” “Electric Feel,” “Kids”

Honorable mentions:
Troubador -- K'Naan
Over and Over -- The 88
Absolution (or Origin of Symmetry) -- Muse
Viva La Vida -- Coldplay
Rocking the Suburbs -- Ben Folds
Anything by Outkast...I absolutely love them, but I don't know their albums that well.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Warning: this post contains adult content

I saw the Vagina Monologues last night (in the Leacock auditorium, hilariously enough). Amazing play, amazing acting, very moving. But that isn't the point of this post. The point is that my friend afterward suggested the best idea I've ever heard: a feminist lesbian porn movie entitled...

...wait for it...the Vagina Dialogues.

*rim shot*

Friday, February 5, 2010

Living up to the name of this blog

It's amazing the type of power trip the internet can give you. I'm a not-particularly-remarkable 21-year-old sitting in a $25 desk chair at an IKEA desk in my room on the fifth floor of a rather decrepit apartment building in Montreal, surrounded by empty coffee mugs and the other standard detritus of an unclean desk: pens, headphones, checkbooks, notebooks, textbooks, and book books. Far from a glamorous life--yet my chair can feel for all the world like a golden throne, and my desk like a...well, golden desk. Of state. Or something.

I sit here, writing what I hope are entertaining musings on the world with the vague illusion that I'm disseminating my wisdom to the masses. And although I'm no Andrew Sullivan, and I don't have millions waiting on my next word, I still know that there's a small group of people--on the other side of this city, on the other side of this world--that actually reads this and gets something from it. I don't know what, but it's something. Facebook is even worse. I can make a joke about Freud in my status and people will read it. Lots of people. I can choose to engage with them, or I can sit back and stay removed from my subjects.

I am far from the first person to point this out, but for some reason it hit me on a gut level this morning. This is so damn dangerous. Yes, Facebook and blogging and all this other nifty internet stuff allows us to connect with people, but what kind of connection is it? We're all becoming monarchs of our own tiny, private realms. Or maybe that's just me--but I am definitely not the only person in the world with an egotistical bent.

Friday, December 11, 2009

In case anyone is curious why I haven't been blogging so much recently...

It's because I've been writing things like this.

Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason and the critical philosophy it created generated a storm of responses, ranging from the near-deifying to the dismissively critical. In 1792, Gottlob Schulze anonymously published Aenesidimus in response to both Kant’s original text and an interpretation of it by Karl Reinhold. Aenesidimus was an attack from the side of the Humean sceptics, claiming that Kant and Reinhold’s attempt to move past Hume’s scepticism begs the question. Although based on a misunderstanding of several of critical philosophy’s key points[1], it was highly influential at the time in turning the public tide against critical philosophy (Di Giovanni 24-25). Kant’s main thesis is as to the existence and nature of a priori concepts, or (as Schulze often calls them) necessary synthetic concepts. These have their ground in the mind, are applicable only to experiential cognitions, and provide the form for all our experience (Schulze 136). Unfortunately, Schulze says that these judgements, which attempt to resolve Hume’s sceptical doubt, claim to do so by simply assuming exactly what he was doubting to begin with and what Kant himself claims is impossible(Schulze 132-133): that we can have knowledge of things outside our experience, such as things-in-themselves.

In particular, Schulze claims that there are two related assumptions made by the critical philosophers that were taken as objects of scepticism by Hume. The first is the assumption that the principle of sufficient reason extends to things-in-themselves as opposed to simply our representations; the second is the assumption that we can infer anything about the nature and composition of objects-in-themselves from our representations of them (Schulze 101, 132-133). According to Schulze, both of these questions are begged multiple times by Kant in the exposition of several of Kant’s points regarding necessary synthetic judgments. Furthermore, Schulze finds Kant contradicting his own philosophical principles at times, for Kant similarly claims that we cannot have any knowledge of the thing-in-itself and that the categories of cause and effect can only be applied to objects obtained through the senses—yet he proceeds in depending on knowledge of the thing-in-itself and applying the laws of causality to things-in-themselves (Schulze 160).

In order to understand Schulze’s argument, it is first necessary to explain the principles of Hume’s scepticism and how Kant intends to refute them. Di Giovannni sums up Hume’s basic principle as follows: “the only distinction in intuition is between the subject and its representation” (24). All consciousness is assumed to be present only within ourselves, and there is currently no scientific or logical reasoning that allows us to make any definitive claims about anything outside of experience, such as a thing-in-itself (Di Giovanni 20-21)[2]. Related are his arguments on cause and effect. If the principles of cause and effect hold absolutely and come from our human reason, Hume argued, we should be able to understand how this necessity arrives a priori. This does not seem to be the case, however. As Schulze puts it, “it is quite impossible to see how, just because something is, something else must be also necessarily” (135). Therefore our experience of the concept of cause and effect is based merely on our experiencing these things together and associated on a consistent basis and assuming from that that they must be necessarily and objectively linked (Schulze 135). Our sense that synthetic judgments have necessity, according to Hume, is due merely to a process of induction and not due to their a priority. Kant, on the other hand, claimed to have shown that a priori synthetic concepts—of which cause and effect is but one example—exist and provide this necessity due to having their ground and cause in the mind (Schulze 137). Schulze claims, however, that these arguments cannot refute Hume, as they do not actually argue against his points—they merely assume that his doubts as to the nature of cause and effect and our knowledge of things-in-themselves have already been satisfied and continue from there. Furthermore, Kant seems to ignore his own assumptions in the construction of many of his arguments.

Schulze begins his argument by claiming that the entire concept of necessary synthetic judgments assumes the nature of causality that Hume doubted. Kant looks at judgements that we have and says that they must be the “effect of something” (Schulze 137). Kant then assumes that given that they are an effect, they must have a cause. This cause is the mind (making them a priori), leading to all the other properties they have, such as being the form of sensibility and only being able to be applied to empirical intuition (Schulze 137). This, however, assumes that Hume’s doubts are no longer valid, since we cannot know if judgments even have a cause or ground and if, more generally, the laws of causality apply to actual things. Schulze speaks for Hume:

Rightly he could say: “As long as…the concepts and principles of causality…are still uncertain and disputed…it is pointless to want to enquire into the sources of the various parts of human knowledge, or to establish anything about them. For before we have the right to ask ‘What are the sources and causes of our knowledge’, we must already have established that for every actual thing there exists a ground and its cause, and, specifically with respect to our knowledge, that all its determinations are the effect of particular causes.” (Schulze 139)

Even if we were to acknowledge that assume that the claims as to the causes of our knowledge are given, Kant will beg the other sceptical question (of what we can know about objects-in-themselves from our representations of them). Kant, Schulze claims, begins with the claim that necessary synthetic judgments cannot be thought to have necessity if they do not have a ground in the mind (140). From this, Kant makes a leap to claiming that they therefore are grounded in the mind (Schulze 141). This is assuming that we can make claims about things outside of our representation (in this case, that necessary synthetic judgments are based in the mind) based on our representations of them (in this case, that necessary synthetic judgments cannot be represented as possible unless they are based in the mind). This is a clear violation of Hume’s sceptical principle, and seems especially problematic because it also does not mesh with Kant’s own insistence that we cannot know anything about the realm of things-in-themselves (141-142).

Kant runs into similar problems when he tries to speak of the nature of a priori judgments as only applicable to empirical intuitions. Schulze frames Kant’s argument as similar to his argument about the mind being the source of a priori cognitions: we can only think of one way in which it is possible that we can have concepts that precede yet refer to a specific representation: to have those concepts exist as the form of our cognition of those objects (Schulze 150). Therefore, this is how these a priori concepts actually are. This, like the first case, assumes that the nature of things-in-themselves depends on our representations of them, “that something can be only so constituted—objectively and actually—as we are capable of representing it to ourselves” (Schulze 151, emphasis in original), which completely ignores Hume’s doubt that we could ever know such things and Kant’s own claim that we cannot know the thing-in-itself.

Schulze also finds problematic Kant’s description of the what exactly the mind is that supposedly underlies these judgments. Kant does not make it clear whether his system assumes the mind as a thing-in-itself, a noumenon, or a transcendental idea (Schulze 166). The first options, that the mind is a thing-in-itself or noumenon, follow a common line of thought, according to Schulze: that something “real” (the representations) also need something “real” as a ground (154). The problem here, of course, is that attempting to say that the source of our necessary synthetic judgments derives from either of these goes against both Kant and Hume’s philosophy. The first and familiar objections are that a) if the mind or subject is a thing-in-itself or noumenon, we cannot know anything about it, as we cannot know the nature of things outside of experience and b) we cannot assume that it can even be a cause, given that the laws of causality may not apply to things-in-themselves (Schulze 155). It also, yet again, goes against Kant’s own philosophy, as it would make no sense from a critical philosophical point of view to depend on a supposedly unknowable thing-in-itself or noumenon as the ground of a priori synthetic judgments.

The third option is that the mind exists not as a thing-in-itself or noumenon but as a “transcendental idea.” This is a Kantian concept of an a priori concept that brings “unbounded unity and completeness to our experiential cognitions” (Schulze 164). One of Kant’s proposed ideas is that of an “absolute complete subject which is not, in turn, the predicate of another thing” (Schulze 163). This, however, also runs into an issue. The purpose Kant puts these transcendental ideas towards, according to Schulze, is to move experiential knowledge towards completion or perfection—they are not applicable to non-experiential knowledge. The use of these concepts to ground the necessary parts of our knowledge—the a priori cognitions—is therefore seriously flawed (Schulze 171). Yet again, Kant seems to assume that we can have knowledge of things outside of experience even though his own philosophy denies this very claim.

Finally, Schulze attempts to summarize his critiques. Kant’s overarching goal is to find the origin of our representations. By doing this, however, he makes two fundamental errors. The first is that he attributes “[not] merely logical truth…but above all real truth” (Schulze 174) to his claims, and does so by proposing that things must be the way he proposes them to be simply because we cannot represent them in any other way. This has no chance of refuting Hume, as this argument takes for granted what Hume doubted about the connection between representations and objects, and it flies in the face of Kant’s own claim to not know anything of the thing-in-itself. Furthermore, if this was true, fields that have been refuted by Hume’s claims, such as rational psychology, cosmology, and theology, become again legitimate—for they also operate on the principle of “it cannot be thought to be different, therefore it must be as I propose” (Schulze 175). These schools of thought, Schulze claims, would have exactly as much claim to legitimacy as the Critique of Pure Reason and all of critical philosophy (175). Kant’s second fundamental error concerns the nature of causality. Kant claims that causality applies only to our representations, yet wants to make judgments about things such as the “real ground” of our experience. This is obviously a problem, says Schulze, as “we cannot assume that ‘causality’ belongs only to our representations, or to our way of thinking, yet ask how in actuality our knowledge originates in something different from it, or ask for some true cause of it” (Schulze 176). Kant is using an argument that is faulty by his own system and Hume’s. Thus, claims Schulze, Kant ultimately fails in his goal to refute Hume’s scepticism, and his philosophy, like others before it, has been torn down by Hume’s doubt. Until we find a system that once and for all will establish the truth of all that which the sceptics doubt, Schulze concludes, philosophy will be left without the materials for building a coherent system (180).


[1] I will not go into the faults with Schulze’s understanding of the critical position in this paper, but as Di Giovanni has pointed out, it fundamentally misunderstands the nature of the thing-in-itself for Kant and Reinhold (24-25). Their position is that the thing-in-itself exists merely as an unknowable “something” which must be the cause of our representations, for if we cannot ascribe the representations to an object outside of us, we cannot be sure the representations themselves are separate from us and we thus doom ourselves to solipsism.

[2] Hume does not claim that the thing-in-itself is completely unknowable in principle, simply that right now we cannot necessarily know anything about it through scientific methods or say that the laws of cause and effect apply to it (Di Giovanni 20). This is a major difference between Kant (at least as viewed by Schulze) and Hume.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Random pet peeve

When graders say to "expand on something" when everything else in the paper has been stripped down to its bare minimum and you're barely fitting within the alloted length. Where, pray tell, would you like me to expand into?

P.S. It's the first big snowfall of the season. I'm sitting in a cafe, writing about bioethics, and watching big chunky flakes sift down outside. It's been snowing nonstop since early this morning. Winter is most certainly here, and for now--for now--I'm certainly enjoying it.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

He/she really makes a good point...

Urgh, finals have taken over my life. But I'm bored with writing those, so I'll write something here instead...which makes the first time in a while.

I hate prescriptive grammar, and I think that attempts to impose change on a language--especially one as widespread and with as complex origins as English--are not only doomed to failure but also near-offensively paternalistic. There is one thing, though, that has started to drive me crazy about our fair tongue: the lack of gender-neutral pronouns. There are several reasons why this bugs me...

1) The classic problem of how exactly to refer to a neutral third-person subject. "He/she" is just...awful, and the singular "they," although I see no problem with it, is one of those prescriptively prohibited things that might get you in trouble on an essay. I often resort to just alternating genders between hypothetical people in an attempt to be even-handed, but then I start feeling like I'm populating my essay with a village of nameless specific people, which would just be weird.

2) The second one is a bit different. I am currently writing a paper on the concept of personal identity and its relation to bioethics. The author of the book I am basing it off of is named Jeff McMahan. Every time I speak of his arguments, I have to write something like...well, "his arguments." The point is...why in the world do I have to specify his gender every time I speak about his arguments if the arguments have nothing to do with his gender? There's a very deep idea in a lot of philosophy that who specifically is making the argument makes absolutely no difference as long as the argument itself is sound. If Hitler writes a book that makes a valid point, it's just as true as if Martin Luther King made the same point. That's what the term ad hominem means--attacking the person behind the arguments instead of the arguments themselves. Given that, I hate that I have to specify something as mundane as the writer's gender every time I make reference to a claim he makes. It's as if I had to refer to the writer's marital status or sexual orientation every time--I don't know, I don't care, and it doesn't affect the arguments being made.

All that being said, I cannot bring myself to write a sentence like "McMahan claims that eir “embodied mind” account of personal identity..." It's unnatural, it's forced, and it's an attempt to impose outside change on language. In other words, it's everything I hate about prescriptive grammar.

What's a man/woman to do?

Friday, November 6, 2009

The greatest writer ever:

William McGonnagall (no relation to the professor of Transfiguration, as far as I know). He was a Scottish "poet" from the late 19th century, most famous for his masterpiece "The Tay Bridge Disaster," which begins as follows:

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.


What's amazing is the unpredictability. After the inspired rhymes of "Tay" with "say" and "away," you might expect the next line to end in something like "day." That's where he gets you. Although that word does appear, it is NOT where the gentle reader might expect it to be. He jogs right past the too-few-syllables-into-the-line expected rhyme and straight to the ending date. The effect is rather like slipping on a pile of dog shit and smashing your head into a brick wall, or perhaps flying off the end of a broken railway bridge into an icy river. The former is more accurate, the latter perhaps more the author's intention. Maybe.

The poem (his masterpiece, although his other 199 or so published poems all have their moments of genius) continues on for another 7 stanzas, full of great sequences like:

And the passengers' hearts felt light,
Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year,
With their friends at home they lov'd most dear,
And wish them all a happy New Year.

The crowning glory, however, is unquestionably the final stanza.

Oh! ill-fated Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
I must now conclude my lay
By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,
That your central girders would not have given way,
At least many sensible men do say,
Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,
At least many sensible men confesses,
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed.

Despite the creative uses of "lay" and "confesses," the genius of this lies in, again, the devious rhyme scheme. After "Tay," "lay," "dismay," "way," and "say" all coming one after another like a machine gun of rhyme fired straight into the brain of the reader, one might expect "day" to come up again in a cleverly-placed internal rhyme . Yet again, McGonnagall fails to conform to our naive hopes. What we get instead, in a glorious display of creativity, is "buttresses," a word which perhaps no other poet would have the gall to use in any poem, let alone one in which it so blatantly flouts the already precariously variable meter and rhyme.



Seriously, though, I can't stop giggling when I read his stuff. There's an archive of everything he ever wrote here. Enjoy!