There’s a line in one of my favorite novels, Snow Crash, where the threat of the title is explained to the main character, and he can’t quite get his head around it.
“This Snow Crash thing—is it a virus, a drug, or a religion?”
Juanita shrugs. “What’s the difference?”
Shut the fuck up, it was less heavy-handed in 1992. Anyway, this pretty well sums up my feelings about a brand where, if I say its name, you don’t know if I’m talking about a television show or a restaurant. There’s a weird Marshall McLuhan/Videodrome quality to that idea that gives me a sour, orange feeling behind my eyes. You can’t eat reality television! I said.
I was wrong. There is no better way to describe this place than “trying to eat television.”
Big Finish’s monthly range has been releasing a 2-CD full-cast Doctor Who story every month for fifteen years. That is quite a lot of Doctor Who. The prices are tiered by release date, and the first 50 releases are the lowest-priced, so it makes sense to start near the beginning until you know that you want to go deeper and spend more money.
I’m going to give my opinions on Big Finish’s monthly series, starting from the beginning. In this article, I’ll present my opinions of the earliest ten that I’ve listened to (not the earliest ten ever, since my own listening is not thorough). Continue Reading
Here’s a candidate for the least controversial statement you’ll read this week: The 1963-1989 series of Doctor Who did not rely on a high standard of quality in its visual effects.
If you think about it from an engineering mindset, you might ask: couldn’t you make Doctor Who more efficiently if you left out the video? That way, producers wouldn’t have to pay for sets and costumes, directors wouldn’t need as many takes, and the audience wouldn’t have to look at a screen all the time while watching it.
In 1999, a company called Big Finish Productions began reuniting casts from multiple eras of Doctor Who to do exactly that. Actors who had portrayed the Doctor and his companions on television returned to their roles for direct-to-audio adventures. When the Doctor returned to television with a new incarnation in 2005, television showrunner Russell Davies personally made sure that the new television series would not prevent Big Finish from continuing the classic series in audio form. Continue Reading
“He came across the huge wasteland of the desert in the east, the vastness forbidden to his kind from time immemorial, determined to discover who took away his memory of the past years of his life and to find out who and what he once was. But that mission does not prove easy: the secret of the world in which he so mysteriously found himself got in the way between him and the truth of his past . He did not even know that fixed upon him were the eyes of potentates and that with his very appearance he perturbed the forces that tailored the fate of the world.”
So You Have Ears is a tentative series of music posts. The format may vary, but the intent is the same: to expound, in one way or another, on a given musical subject. This short post is about one song, by one artist.
So you liked Das Racist, right? Like, liked them liked them? Not “half-sincerely be fond of them while constantly looking over your shoulder to make sure there’s not some kind of joke that’s on you for actually enjoying it” liked them?
Good. This song is by Heems, one third of the now-defunct Das Racist, whose name was a particular pronunciation of “that’s racist”, not pseudo-German.
(That would be “Die Racist” or “Der Racist”, not withstanding the spelling of the actual German noun “rassist”. I like the first one).
I guess the benefit to enjoying what Das Racist put out is that a) it’s fucking fun to listen to and b) they produce incredibly angry reactions in some people.
That second one is a great way to pass the time at parties where you can’t escape argumentative dickhead sort-of-friends, so you might as well try and gauge what kind of argumentative dickhead they are.
But back to the song: I love this song. The first time I heard it, I couldn’t stand it. What changed my opinion is the vocal that repeats throughout: “LAY-DEEEEES, LUH-LAH-LAY-DEEEEEEEEEEES”. I got it stuck in my head again and again, and began listening to it voluntarily to get it out. The song’s (deliberate) sense of aggressive uncoolness and the narrator’s obliviousness to that fact grew on me.
Wait, wait, Mike says this should be a song about women
But then he said he doesn’t know any women
I told him “Yo, I know like seven women”
This song is a great song to be listening to on headphones while you walk down a street, letting people assume you are listening to a much cooler song that you don’t have to defend with “well, the tackiness is the joke” and “it’s an acquired taste”.
I wake up to this song sometimes. Listening to it when you wake up hung over is a great way to feel like you’re in the opening montage for a ‘terrible people behaving terribly’-style comedy, instead of just being a terrible person.