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Arts & Entertainment, Music

Factor: Lawson Graham

by Nicholas Petrillo on

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Lawson Graham is a left-of-centre hip-hop release by veteran Canadian beat-maker Factor. A group of label mates, both singers and rappers, provide some vocals for his instrumentals, but this album begs the question of whether it’s hip-hop or indie rock. It’s tough to say—the tracks that give off the best hip-hop vibes are generally the ones that feature indie rock vocalists, and those that sound quintessentially indie rock are the ones featuring the rappers. It’s an interesting concept, but long-winded songs like “Missed The Train” and “Every Morning” show why the success rate for this type of genre mash-up isn’t particularly high.

The album almost feels like an experiment, and it has its successes here and there. “Mental Illness,” a confident rap by 2Mex over a chipmunked vocal sample is the album’s catchiest song. There’s no mainstream, synthesized, 808-drum influence here, either. Instead, the album is much more organic, with artists who appear to be more levelheaded than those in the mainstream.

Factor makes a noble, albeit meandering, attempt to expose listeners to two completely different musical styles. A hip-hop fan wouldn’t jump into indie rock by listening to Arcade Fire. An indie rock fan wouldn’t jump into hip-hop by listening to Young Jeezy. A compromise has to be made and you have to ease into it slowly. If you’re open-minded to both, Lawson Graham might be a good place to start.

Arts & Entertainment, Books

Animals go feral in Sedaris’s latest

by Matthew Kassel on

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There’s a clear reason why Ian Falconer, who illustrated David Sedaris’s latest book, Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk: A Modest Bestiary, only uses shades of red and black in his illustrations.  It’s because the stories, which tersely detail single events in the lives of animals, are often bloody and bleak.

But it’s also a matter of economy. You’ll read this book very quickly because the writing is so matter of fact. Each short story is basically reducible to one simple, bluntly shocking action or event, and in that way, Falconer’s illustrations, which are beautiful, naive, funny, and tragic, might tell Sedaris’s stories better than Sedaris can himself.

Sedaris wrote Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk, his first full book of fiction, knowing it would be illustrated, so the stories and illustrations work in a symbiotic relationship. What Sedaris might have purposely omitted in description, Falconer delineates visually.

There really aren’t any descriptions of the animals’ physical attributes in these stories. Don’t we all know what a bear or a mouse or a stork looks like? Perhaps not. Falconer, who authored the Olivia children’s books, shows us what we’d expect. But there’s always a little more—a human expression or posture—that elides the inherent morbidity of most of the stories.   

It would be easy to say Sedaris wrote this book of animal fables and foibles as an allegory to critique the seeming absurdity of human interaction, but I don’t think Sedaris is that kind of writer. He’s not that sanctimonious. Writing about animals allows Sedaris to reveal a world of gore and desperation that would be harder to get at—with taste, at least—if he were writing about people.

Because these stories are fantasy, it doesn’t really matter if certain facts and happenings don’t add up.  A baboon grooms a cat? A mouse owns a snake? A squirrel dates a chipmunk? OK. These scenarios aren’t really funny, and Sedaris doesn’t always seem to try to make them so.

Sure, you’ll probably laugh, but sometimes you might be disturbed, perhaps by the lab rat injected with pancreatic cancer, the walls of his tank “soiled here and there with bloody paw prints and flecks of vomit,” or by the motherless bear, who becomes a sort of gimp concubine, “her jaws … sunken, her gums swollen with the abscesses left by broken teeth.”

These descriptions aren’t tasteful, but that seems to be the point.  A lot of the animals are duplicitous, murderous, and predatory because that’s really how they are.

The stories don’t form a common thread. Their realities sometimes operate on different planes. Because a parrot is a journalist in one, you might assume people don’t exist. But then in another, you get the point of view of a setter owned by people.

The point is it doesn’t matter. These are more vignettes than stories, as are many of Sedaris’s essays, and despite the morose humour prevalent in his writing, he usually finds a way, in the end, to be bashfully sweet and sensitive. Perhaps he is a humourist, but I usually remember his writing for how he comes to understand himself. Humour might be a path to that, but it’s not an end.

You could view these new fictional stories in a similar same way. Yes, they’re short and bleak and flat, punctuated with gore, but sometimes—and this is Sedaris at his best—they can be unexpectedly and clumsily touching.

Arts & Entertainment, Film and TV

Re-opening the files of A Film Unfinished

by Ricky Kreitner on

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If A Film Unfinished were nothing but 60 minutes of raw Nazi propaganda footage filmed in the Warsaw Ghetto, it would still be the most affecting film viewers have seen in a very long time. If the five silent reels found in an East German bunker nine years after the war were presented to an audience in 2010 with no commentary, no elaboration, no context, you would still stare blankly at the rolling credits, neither blinking nor seeing, totally stunned by the film.

Fortunately, the film—directed by Yael Hersonski—is much more. Those 60 minutes of raw footageare movingly intertwined with commentary from Ghetto survivors, descriptions of how the Nazis manipulated certain scenes, readings from journals kept by both Jews and Nazis, and an extended interview with Willy Wist, exposed as one of the film’s cameramen in the 1960s and the only German name ever connected to the making of the Warsaw tapes.

The film was originally commissioned by the Third Reich for propaganda purposes. That is, to show the veritable paradise in which the regime permitted Warsaw’s Jews to live. Wist claims he was specifically ordered to film scenes of Jews leading normal, even opulent lives, to show them enjoying themselves, to show life in the Warsaw Ghetto was not all that bad. To that end, we see Jews enjoying multi-course meals with wine, close-up shots of a woman singing at a lavish ball, rabbis meeting in the office of Adam Czerniaków, the head of the Warsaw Judenrat, the council of supposed “self-government” that the Nazis ordered Jews to form, men and women lounging in bathing suits, enjoying cool drinks in the sun. This footage is accompanied by readings from Jewish diaries, most interestingly from those of Czerniaków, described in the film as “an actor playing himself, unaware of how his role will end.” He repeatedly wrote about how the Nazis staged and shot multiple takes of these deceptively non-hellish scenes. We also hear reports filed by the SS officers in charge of producing the film, who bemoan the difficulties posed by uncooperative Jews.

In addition to the original tapes, A Film Unfinished also shows an additional, unedited reel of footage, which shows the horrifying truth of life and death in the Warsaw Ghetto. Ravaged corpses lie untouched on sidewalks, frail young children wander aimlessly, supported only by canes, skin peeling from their faces and bodies like old paint off a wall, policemen—some with Star of David armbands—harassing Jews, beating them, causing stampedes. It shows mass graves, truck-size piles of uncollected feces, dead bodies being tossed onto wooden carts, falling off, and rolling face down into the gutter. In his typically understated manner, Wist tells the interviewer that these scenes “preoccupied my thoughts for quite some time.” Some viewers may be left less than satisfied by the depth of his contrition.

The most disturbing and unforgettable aspects of the film are the faces of those walking the streets of the Ghetto. They stare curiously and blankly at the camera, and at us in the audience, as if reaching beyond the insanity of their situation to whatever hint of reality they might imagine or remember is beyond. We stare back, transfixed, trying and failing and trying again to enter their own horrible reality, if only momentarily. This happens throughout the film, as children, mothers, and soldiers look deep into the lens—repeated instances of fleeting communion.

These faces, these eyes, suggest the true meaning of the title, A Film Unfinished. The effect is to call into question the idea of historical finality. The lesson, perhaps, is that by seeing all this, by entering these horrible worlds, if only for a short time, we can in some way preserve what has already been destroyed, and ensure that the Nazi “solution” was anything but final.

Arts & Entertainment, Music

Kids for Ca$h?

by Alex Shiri on

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In recent months, there’s been an influx of additions to the entertainment industry, and I’m not talking about popular university-targeted acts like Chiddy Bang or Mike Posner. I’m referring to significantly younger individuals—individuals who are surely not old enough to make a successful rise to fame by their own means.

Just this past week, a seven-year-old boy named Matty B was covered by media outlets Perez Hilton and New York Magazine. A few hours later, a YouTube video of Matty B rapping over a Ke$ha song went viral and has since garnered over 1.5 million views. At first glance, you see a cute little blonde boy with “cool” style. But then you begin to think: Who is this kid?

After seeing his video, I proceeded to investigate this unknown Matty B character and found multiple other videos, all in the same style as the one that caught the eye of Perez Hilton. The gossip guru went on to notify Ke$ha’s actual producer Dr. Luke (associated with huge acts like Katy Perry and Taio Cruz), who was enthused about the video. The point here is: Who is Matty B? Sure, he’s a seven-year-old boy who raps and sings, but can it really be true that he films, edits, and writes his own songs?

Along with the immediate praise from teenage girls, there’s also been a backlash against Matty B and other rising young stars. Questions have been raised concerning who exactly is managing these children and what their motives are. It’s very possible that parents see how fast rise to fame can be using the Internet and think that their child can make it in the business because he or she has “star quality.”

Take the example of Justin Bieber, who was virtually unknown two and a half years ago. He was just another kid from Ontario who had a YouTube account where he posted acoustic songs. He used to sing outside of the Stratford Playhouse, where countless high school students from Montreal and around Canada (like me) may have dropped a loonie in his guitar case, never knowing he would soon be discovered by R&B megastar Usher.

It’s true that stars can be born via the Internet, but something about Matty B is a little fishy. At least Justin Bieber wasn’t being edited and marketed in a way that seemed like his parents would be benefitting from his possible success. In contrast, Matty B’s videos are way too good to be true. They have perfect editing and crystal clear vocals. Judging by his house (pictured in many of his videos), one could hazard a guess that he might have access to professional recording materials. On the other hand, it’s possible that his mother is just a whiz when it comes to iMovie and GarageBand.

Willow Smith (daughter of Will and Jada Pinkett-Smith) is another example of a young star on the rise. Her situation is slightly different, as she was raised in the entertainment industry and definitely has a professional team working for her. She just turned 10 last week, but her debut single, “Whip My Hair,” has already risen to number 11 on the Billboard Hot 100. At first some may have wondered if Willow was just another child of a Hollywood power couple being pushed into the industry, but after performing on national TV this week for the first time, I think she has proven her case as a good performer. She now joins the ranks of Justin Bieber and her own brother Jaden Smith, who just starred alongside Jackie Chang in this past June’s box office success, The Karate Kid.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m actually on Matty B’s side. Kudos for being recognized by huge media outlets and generating buzz all over North America. He is obviously a child who wants to be famous, and he may even have the personality, voice, and team to pursue it. But not everybody is going to be the next Justin Bieber. Sorry Matty B, keep rapping as a hobby, but don’t try to make a career out of it.

Behind the Bench, Sports

The stadium mystique

by Sean Wood on

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I recently had to do a story on the renovated Molson Stadium, so I went to check it out one day. I was moved to recollection as I wandered through the concourses. “Recollection” is an inadequate word; rather, doors in my subconscious opened, emitting rich nostalgic air. I let it out, breathed, and fell under its spell.

I flashed to a Phillies game at Veterans Stadium, one of the first sporting events I ever went to. The lingering smell of fried food in Molson’s concourses reminded me of being an ecstatic four-year-old. My dad had announced a few days beforehand that we were going, and my anticipation began then. The day of the game, I checked the clock 20 times an hour while at school. My disbelief of the whole situation grew, and by the time I got off the school bus I was in a near-trance. Arriving home, I donned Phillies clothing and anointed myself with holy paints, so I might be considered acceptable to the other fans. After waiting in traffic, we emerged into the stadium and I saw the perfectly green field—the Holy of Holies.

It was sensory overload. Not only was the grass greener, the lights were brighter and the crowd was louder. The players weren’t just men in uniforms, they were living myths capable of supernatural feats. The evening promised home runs, French fries, and ice cream; it didn’t matter that I’d probably fall asleep in the seventh inning, or that I’d be carried to the car long before the game reached any resolution.  

The door to Molson field was wide open. I’m always amazed at how easy it is in Canada to walk into places Americans consider forbidden; even the high school near my house in Philly didn’t let anyone on its field.  I stood in the middle of the stadium and dreamed that the stands were filled with 25,000 people paying to see me. I ran toward the end zone, made dazzling spin moves, and faked the roar of a crowd with that whispered “EHHHH” noise. The dream of athletic glory is an ineradicable weed; it can lie dormant for a long time, but never entirely disappears.

Sports are a quasi-religious phenomenon. My closest encounters with power and grace didn’t happen in church, but at Phillies games. I’m still residually awed by the stadium experience. It’s tough not to respond to the grandeur of a sporting event. When people tell me that sports are a waste of money, there’s too much star-struck child in me to agree. 

Letters to the Editor, Opinion

Letter to the Editor

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In a House of Commons committee on Monday, a proud legacy of McGill students was crippled. Since 2003, McGill students have been the leading edge of Canadian civil society clamoring for Parliament to allow Canadian generic drug companies to produce low-cost medicines for people in poor countries. This solution would cost taxpayers no money, and had the go-ahead from the World Trade Organization. All that stood in the way was political will, and McGill students led the way by leading marches down McGill College, testifying before the House committee in Ottawa, and visiting Big Pharma offices to demonstrate. The bill was passed, but it was too restrictive; it only helped send one shipment of drugs to Rwanda.

In 2010, the opportunity to fix the bill (called Canada’s Access to Medicines Regime, or CAMR) was before us, but in committee this week, joined by the Conservatives, the MP for the riding that contains McGill and the entire ghetto (Liberal Marc Garneau), introduced amendments that scuttled reform. Even the other Liberals on the committee were shocked and would not comment. There is still a possibility that the bill can be saved in the House.

McGill students must again lead the way to ensure Bill C-393 is strengthened and passed. Express your frustration with Marc Garneau, the Conservatives, and members of the Bloc who stand in the way of helping people access medicine that will save their lives. We are again uniquely placed to make a huge difference, and we must continue to do so.

Justin Noble, BA ‘05

Former director, McGill Global Aids Coalition

Opinion

Remembrance Day should be a stat holiday

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McGill Tribune

Ottawa MPP Lisa MacLeod wants Remembrance Day to be a statutory holiday in Ontario. She may be on to something. Federal employees already get the day off, as do workers in five provinces and all three territories. Remembrance Day is an important day for the rest of the country to have off, too.

Notwithstanding some recent objections to a perceived glorification of war accompanying the day, most Canadians appear to value Remembrance Day as a non-political occasion on which to pay tribute to fallen soldiers. Schools across the country conduct ceremonies, public transit—and many other services—stop for a moment of silence at 11 a.m., and the red poppy in the lapel becomes ubiquitous as soon as Halloween ends.

Given all that, it’s a little baffling that Remembrance Day is not already a statutory holiday across the country. Consider the other public days provinces celebrate. Easter and Christmas are religious holidays in a supposedly secular society. Victoria Day celebrates a British monarch who reigned outside anybody’s living memory. The Civic Holiday was created just because people needed a break between Canada Day and Labour Day. Family Day was too, but at least its institutors made up some kind of meaning for that one. There are plenty of holidays with little meaning for plenty of Canadians. It might be a good idea to give time off for a really meaningful day.

Letting people out of work and school on November 11 would give them more than a holiday; it would allow them to participate in the range of commemorative activities that occur. From the tomb of the unknown soldier on Parliament Hill to municipal centres around the country, a myriad of ceremonies are currently conducted that tend to be limited to politicians and retirees. If people want to attend these ceremonies, they should be empowered to do so.

Tributes to fallen soldiers may also be taking on an increasingly important role. For better or for worse, war and the soldiers who fight them are seen with increasing cynicism. Members of the generation coming of age may have had grandparents in the Second World War, but that’s probably their closest link to the casualties of that conflict. Remembrance Day is an important means of remembering stories that no longer tell themselves. There’s something more important than a day of work in that.

Naturally, not everybody will use Remembrance Day to attend public ceremonies and reflect deeply on the sacrifices of soldiers.  They might instead claim the right to have some time for themselves with nobody getting in the way. And taking Remembrance Day as a holiday would be totally legitimate. Almost every month but November right now has a day off from work, making it a drab 30 days during which with the most momentous occasion is the sudden switch to 5:30 sunsets.

Remembrance Day is important for a lot of Canadians, and it’s about time the government started letting them observe it. Let’s make it a statutory holiday—lest we forget.

Opinion

The Trib’s referendum endorsements

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McGill Tribune

Referendum Question Regarding SACOMSS Fee Renewal—YES

This referendum question proposes the routine, tri-annual approval of the 75-cent opt-outable fee that funds the Sexual Assault Centre of McGill Students’ Society. SACOMSS provides a good and important service to the McGill community, and the Tribune endorses this motion wholeheartedly. If you aren’t compelled to vote on the basis of the other two more controversial issues, at least take two minutes to go online for this one, to demonstrate the McGill community’s overwhelming support for this worthy organization.

Referendum Question Regarding SSMU Charity Committee and Fund—UNDECIDED

This asks students to approve a $0.50 opt-outable fee for disaster relief that would be overseen by a new “SSMU Charity Committee.” The Tribune is divided on the question.  Some of us believe it should be approved because any effort toward the “relief of acute suffering” is worthwhile, and because it could raise a significant amount of money while costing students less than a cup of coffee.

Others, however, believe that while the proposal seems theoretically innocent, it might have a few practical flaws. Even though disaster relief is important, there’s an argument to be made that students should be able to make their own individual choices about donating to charity AUS-organized fundraisers for Haiti last year raised thousands of dollars and proved that students are willing and able to donate to causes they believe are important.

Another concern was that the Charity Committee, in deciding where to direct the funds, could get mired in controversial politics, as seems to happen so often on this campus. Also, some of us don’t believe there should be a levy on students, many of whom are without income, for issues that aren’t directly related to campus life. In many cases, students’ parents pay their tuition, and SSMU shouldn’t be responsible for deciding how these families’ charitable donations are allocated.

Plebiscite Question Regarding Addition of an Interfaculty Arts and Science Representative on the SSMU Legislative Council—YES

Currently, students in the Arts and Science program can represent either faculty on the Students’ Society Legislative Council and are represented by both. However, the “whereas” clauses of this question claim that Arts and Science students constitute a “distinct entity within the McGill student body whose needs and interests are not completely aligned with either” Arts or Science. Therefore, the argument goes, there should be a representative on council whose sole purpose is to represent these students. The Tribune’s understanding is that if this new position were created, Arts and Science students could no longer represent either faculty, but only their own “distinct entity.”

This is a worthy initiative and it should pass. Other small groups on campus, like students in Architecture and Education, have their own representatives, and there is no good reason why Arts and Science students sho uldn’t, as well. Ironically, as there are currently four Arts and Science students on council, designating a single representative for this faculty could result in less representation.

The complexities of this issue shouldn’t blind anyone to the fact that it is largely inconsequential. Arts and Science students will continue to be represented no matter what happens with this question, and SSMU councillors will continue to be eager to hear and advocate on behalf of their concerns.

Opinion

Alcohol for the win!

by Mohammed Ashour on

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McGill Tribune

Crack cocaine smiled euphorically. Heroin snorted from nervous laughter. Alcohol slugged and slurred. Standing under the blinding floodlights of the stage, all three finalists joined shaking hands and braced for the moment of truth. Who will claim the title of “the worst drug in the world?”

Last week, Dr. David Nutt and his colleagues published the results of a study which aimed to categorically assess the harms caused by the misuse of drugs in the United Kingdom. They sought to determine the harmful impact of 20 different drugs by scoring them out of 100 on a variety of perceived harms posed either to the individual (e.g. drug-specific death, damage to health) or society (e.g. crime, economic cost). One hundred indicated the most harm possible, and zero indicated none.

Each drug received three scores: one for “harm to users,” one for the “harm to others,” and an overall sum.

Hushing the anxious crowd to pin-drop silence, a booming voice finally announced the winner. “Alcohol!”

Rising to their feet, the judges nodded at each other with hasty approval. It was hardly a contest. With a score of 72, alcohol didn’t just surpass its competitors, it humiliated them. Heroin and crack cocaine, who scored 55 and 54 respectively, ducked their heads down and stepped forward to claim silver and bronze. (Magic mushrooms came in last, with a score of 6.)

According to this study, alcohol causes more harm to a person than 16 other drugs, and more harm to society than almost all the other 19 drugs combined. Alcohol is the only drug that poses more harm to society than to the individual who consumes it. Alcohol, which is sold virtually unrestricted to anyone above the age of 18 in our province, poses up to 50 times more harm to others than at least 10 illegal drugs, including LSD, ecstasy, anabolic steroids, mushrooms, and ketamine.

To me, this suggests either an illiterate government or a government that legitimizes drugs based on reasons beyond the facts.

The reason is quite simple: Canadians love drinking.

In 2004, 80 per cent of Canadians reported to have consumed alcohol within that year. Unless our government is prepared to anger four out of five Canadians and sober them up to the inadequacy of their politics, they’re better off looking the other way. After the dismal failure of the 1920s Prohibition, lawmakers learned that legislation is a powerless tool to manipulate drug abusers. In fact, it likely encourages the opposite result. Thus, any sincere effort to reduce drinking amongst Canadians must rely on the ancient wisdom of conviction without compulsion.

You know the facts: alcohol has been linked to mouth cancer, breast cancer, bowel cancer, oesophageal cancer, pharyngeal cancer, laryngeal cancer, and liver cancer. Alcohol has been correlated with various types of cognitive impairments, including dementia. Alcohol has fanned the flames of domestic abuse, it has destroyed millions of relationships, and it has single-handedly created “drunk driving.” Above all, alcohol tastes plain awful. Yet you, or someone you know well, will drink tonight anyway.

We can certainly talk about drinking “moderately” (an undefined term) and the fact that some health benefits have been shown in lighter drinkers. But these benefits are easily obtained from other sources without the accompanying harms of alcohol. And while some people may have an unfaltering self-discipline and an unassailable immunity to peer pressure, it’s safe to say that the overwhelming majority of drinkers don’t do it for the health benefits.

All of this leaves me with a puzzled question. Why drink?

Opinion

Life Lines gets angry

by Johanu Botha on

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McGill Tribune

It started slowly: the clicking of a pen here, the answering of cell phone there. Then it rippled out and gathered speed: the disregard for library etiquette is growing into a tidal wave. We need to stop it before it gets there. It might just be my Spidey senses tingling without reason, but various research techniques have bolstered this feeling of impending doom. These include the usual columnist tactics (asking questions where “yes” is the only option provided and making assumptions that will provide witty writing material), but it has also included bordering-on-legitimate experiment set-ups (asking questions where “Yes” as well as “Probably Yes” are provided and making observations that are non-biased and true … and will provide witty writing material). I’ve been noticing the shit hit the fan regarding respect for others in libraries and that has to stop. Now.

First, it’s only one sense that really needs to be monitored—sound. You can move as much as you want and if you really want to touch people then by all means, with their permission, do so. But don’t bring your earphones that have speakers on the outside to the library. What is the point of that? Furthermore, there are times to express your individual charisma, but doing so while studying in the library is not one of them. I’m sorry to all you libertarians out there, but this is one place where you follow the crowd. You walk in line and do what others do (mainly, by shutting up), not because you’re falling into the hole of collectivization, but because it’s polite. It’s not about restrictive social norms, it’s about realizing there’s one specific place where people come to have quiet. It’s pure and simple respect.

The last time I was in McLennan, a student actually played a YouTube clip for a friend. She, in utmost consideration, had the decency to keep the volume low. But it still proliferated through the area and stopped people dead in their studying tracks. In order not to be “the jerk” who says something, and because the respect norm is still quite high, nobody said anything. For five minutes 20 stressed-out budding academics listened to some horrible acoustic cover of a Lady Gaga song.

I did in fact conduct an experiment of my own. Shortly after the YouTube incident I walked down one of the aisles and loudly dropped a book on the floor. I did so again. Nobody flinched. It would have made my day if somebody—anybody—had stood up, walked over, and whispered, “Dude, do you want to be thrown out a window?”

There are security guards who patrol our libraries, but they’re more interested in confiscating Tim Hortons cups than in shushing anyone. That has traditionally been our job as students. And we’ve been good at it. The library has for the most part been a place where any person is welcome, as long as he or she sits down, shuts up, and does work. The subtle twittering of rebellion that I am sensing may be the first step to losing this norm. And I suggest we squash this rebellion. I am all for walking to the beat of your own drum, but there are no drums in the library. There should never, ever be any drums in the library. Tip-toe in, get your stuff done, and tip-toe out. Maybe smile at fellow tip-toers on the way. But that’s it. End of story.

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