(note: this was originally written for and posted on the official “Connect with Bernie” Bernie Sanders campaign site. I am reposting it here because, unfortunately, only those who log in to that site can read what’s on it. The url for that post is here: https://connect.berniesanders.com/blogs/144).
In the week between the Iowa caucus and the New Hampshire primary, a particularly contentious debate has taken place about what the term "Progressive" means, and who it applies to. It began when Bernie Sanders was asked about whether or not Hillary Clinton was a "Progressive," to which he honestly and accurately replied that at times she labels herself as such, while at other times she champions herself as a moderate centrist. And no, you cannot be a moderate and a Progressive. But more on that later.
This argument came to a head during the February 4th MSNBC debate, when Hillary Clinton fiercely defended herself as a Progressive. She said that Sanders was not the gatekeeper of the term (fair enough), and that under his definition, beloved Democrats such as President Obama himself would not qualify. She cited all the progress she has made working for children's health and women's rights. She has called herself a "Progressive who likes to get things done," and suggested that to label her as "not Progressive" or "Establishment" was an "artful smear."
As far as the term "Establishment" goes, it's complicated. If we accept the premise (and we should) that we live in a society and a country where the systematic power structures were built by rich white men for rich white men, Hillary Clinton creates dissonance. On the one hand, we know what Bernie Sanders means when he calls Clinton "the Establishment." The Clintons are an empire. Wealthy, powerful, with incredible amounts of influence. Hillary Clinton is absolutely a part of that, regardless of her gender or sex. She is both undeniably rich and white, and to suggest that she is somehow disqualified from "the Establishment" just because she is a woman ignores all notions of Intersectionality in terms of racial and classist oppression. But at the same time, we have never had a woman as President. The significance of that cannot be brushed aside. In that sense, Hillary Clinton (or any woman) running for President is an inherently Progressive and anti-establishment act. I don't have any sort of capital-T Truth to underline all this with. I don't think there is one single answer. But I do hope that both sides come to understand the complexities at play when we talk about Hillary Clinton and the Establishment.
But back to my original point. What is a Progressive? As someone who calls myself one, I'm going to parse through all this using my definition of the term. Judging by the many self-described Progressives I have befriended/followed/read/listened to, I believe it to be an accurate definition. But let's start with what the term does not mean. Being a Progressive does not mean you are a person who has helped "get things done" as Hillary Clinton seems to think it does. Judging by what she said during the debate, she takes the word rather literally. She feels that because she has accomplished many things (read: made "progress" on many things), it makes her a "Progress"-ive. It's right there in the word, right? Wrong. Although semantically this might seem to make sense, this is much too broad a definition and in some ways runs contrary to the spirit of Progressive values.
Being a Progressive means leading the fight for liberal values, particularly on social issues, by working to change societal norms for the better. The key word here actually is not "progress," it is "lead." Being on the forefront of liberal social issues. This is why the term "moderate Progressive" is an oxymoron, and why Hillary Clinton's "get things done" defense does not work. "Progress," as defined by a Progressive, is not strictly mechanical. For example, a moderate 15 years ago may have looked at the issue of gay marriage and suggested civil unions. Straight people can keep traditional marriage, while gay people get their own thing. Win-win right? "Progress"? But a Progressive fights for total marriage equality, even if it is an uphill battle, because they understand that the simple mechanism of getting a law passed that still placates traditional views isn't good enough. Leading defines Progressivism. And unfortunately, with the rare exception of issues like abortion, Hillary Clinton has not led the fight for liberal values. Supporting DOMA was not progressive. Supporting Don't Ask Don't Tell was not progressive. Supporting the Iraq war and world policing was not progressive. Supporting the Patriot Act was not progressive. Expanding the war on drugs was not progressive. Supporting a for-profit prison system that disproportionately incarcerates people of color is not progressive.
For better or worse, compromising isn't something Progressives are very interested in. It is not progressive to compromise or reject causes of social justice until it is popular to support them. On the contrary, it is Progressives who work to make supporting these causes popular in the first place. Hillary Clinton is no doubt a strong leader who gets things done. But when it comes to truly liberal values, she mostly leads from behind. She is the very essence of a moderate. And the world needs moderates. While Progressives are working to shift larger societal norms, moderates can be counted on to help make incremental progress in the mean time. And that counts for something. No one, not I nor Bernie Sanders, ever said it didn't. But if we want to elect a President with Progressive values, who has proven time and time again that they will take the lead on issues and not wait until it is politically expedient to do so, Bernie Sanders is the clear (and only) choice.
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One of the first promo trailers for season four of Louie was a very beautiful looking black and white clip of Louie jumping off a bridge with a rose in his teeth. It's very indicative of what this past season turned out to be: very beautiful to look at, and depicting something that is actually kind of horrifying. In this case: the romanticization of abusive behavior.
It started with part five of the "Elevator" arc. Louie and Amia are coming back from a date. Amia, who does not speak english, starts to head out of his apartment telling him, "bye." But Louie has made up his mind that he wants to have sex with her to make the relationship more "serious." Amia continues to refuse, saying, "bye," and, "better bye," as in, "no, goodbye, it's better if I leave." Louie persists and actually grabs her arm, pulls her into his apartment, closes the door, and kisses her.
This scene was very troubling to me at the time, partly because Amia could not fully communicate her true feelings. Luckily, in part six of "Elevator," it is revealed via a translator that Amia did not want to get serious with Louie because she had a son that she had to return to overseas. Okay, so if I'm giving Louie the benefit of the doubt, then what had occurred in the troubling scene was maybe more complicated than it looked. It's not that Amia didn't want to have sex with Louie, we could imply, but that she had conflicting feelings about getting too close to him and feeling hurt when she had to inevitably leave the U.S. Fine.
Then part one of the "Pamela" arc happened. Louie is heartbroken over Amia leaving and has his old friend Pamela back at his apartment. He then decides he wants to "make something happen" between them and actually ends up chasing Pamela around his apartment, grabbing her, trying to pull her in, all while Pamela screams things like, "this would be rape if you weren't so stupid!" and, "you can't even rape well!" The scene ends with Louie demanding that Pamela let him kiss her. She relents. Pamela and Louie share a kiss, Pamela cowering in a corner and Louie looming over her. Pure physical oppression. After Pamela leaves, Louie faces the camera and gives an enthusiastic fist pump, like an athlete celebrating a victory. Truly cringe-worthy, and intentionally so.
After this scene, I was disturbed, but actually a bit more interested. Because clearly Louis CK the show writer was going somewhere with this. The Amia and Pamela scenes were so obviously meant to mirror each other, and one of the episodes including a stand-up segment about the history of violence towards women. So Louis CK must be setting up a "teachable moment" similar to the "So Did The Fat Lady" speech. Right?
Nope. The moment never came. Instead, we were treated to two episodes of Louie and Pamela engaging in one of the most unhealthy, uncomfortable relationships I've seen on TV. Louie takes her out to the park and wants her to look up at the stars. He asks her, "can you do that? just trust me and go with this?"
I wouldn't. Louie attempted to force this woman into physical contact against her will (let's call that what it is: sexual assault), and now we have to sit here and watch Louie ask her to "trust him"? Is this supposed to be romantic? A joke? As if somehow what Louie did doesn't matter, because they're going to live happily ever after? This is "nice guy" sexism at it's finest.
It didn't stop there. After the date, Louie once again pulls Pamela into his apartment, despite her saying she doesn't want to "do things." Louie then throws a pouting fit, goes into his room, and accuses Pamela of stringing him along. Pamela was confused about her own feelings. Louie is allowed to be frustrated by that, but to blame it on Pamela is wrong. Pamela never lies to Louie. Louie feels the same kind of entitlement to a woman's body, and her emotions, that is the very foundation of all sorts of misogyny. She won't have sex with him, so it's her fault. The same feelings the UCSB shooter felt.
But the most troubling part about all this is that Louis CK the writer doesn't seem to notice or care. This whole story climaxes with the two of them having an intimate moment together and agreeing to be in a relationship. Louie uses physical and verbal coercion to get what he wants from Pamela, regardless of what she wants. Pure 100% abusive behavior. The consequences? Louis CK gives Louie gets exactly what he wants. There's no punishment, there's no commentary, there's not even a punchline. Just a story and a show that treats abusive behavior as an acceptable means to an end, just as long as you do something romantic afterwards.
It sucks to write this. I find Louis CK to be a very wise person on about 90% of whatever he's talking about. His capitalism rant is amazing. His views on technology are thought provoking. His representation of fat people in season four of Louie was great. But I can't get behind the romanticization of abuse, no matter how good the show is.
studentactivism on twitter posted some great points about the show that I'll leave you with:
When I first saw Spike Jonze's "Her," it made me think a lot. It made me think about whether or not Samantha qualifies as a "real" being and a "real" relationship, about whether or not her being "real" even mattered, and about what anal sex would be like if...okay you get it.
But as Molly Lambert described in her piece for Grantland, "Her made me think a lot, but it never made me feel anything." Well, maybe that's not entirely true. Her made me feel some things. Like, for instance, I felt a lot of disdain for the main character. Is that not the "feeling" Spike Jonze had in mind when he made the movie? And while we're on the subject, what exactly was Spike Jonze trying to accomplish with Her?
I found a scene that perfectly sums up my confusion about this movie. A little over a half an hour in, right before Theodore and Samantha have their first true intimate scene together, Theodore is explaining everything he is feeling to Samantha. In reference to his date-gone-wrong with Olivia Wilde's character, Theodore says, "I wanted somebody to want me to fuck them because maybe that would have filled this tiny little hole in my heart but probably not."
This 30-something-year-old man utters such an immature and pathetic line that I cannot for the life of me believe that Spike Jonze intended any serious movie-goer to hear it and go "awwwww" and sympathize with the guy. It's not just that line either. He takes constant passive-aggressive swipes at his ex-wife by telling everyone that he's "just happy to be with someone excited about life" when talking about Samantha (he even says it right to Catherine's face). He has clear intimacy issues which he gets called out on by his ex-wife, and is later brought to the forefront when things start going south with Samantha. He idealizes the past. He generally seems to handle relationships with the tact of a 15 year old.
So if Spike Jonze isn't trying to get me to relate to or feel bad for Theodore, then surely what Her must be is some kind of social commentary. The age of technology. If I look past the pathetic-but-not-terrible protagonist, there must be some riveting debate being presented throughout the film about whether or not technology is helping us become happy, or hurting us. And after watching the movie about two and a half times now, I can safely say that there is...no real attempt at social commentary. Now, it is possible that there is and I'm just missing it. If that's the case, I'd like someone to make a case for it. But I'm definitely not seeing it.
So, from where I'm sitting, it seems that Her is either two kinds of movie.
It is either a romantic comedy that wants me to pat a 35-year-old manboy on the back for finally growing up, or it's a social commentary that forgot to provide any commentary. Neither of which is a great option.
I didn't hate Her. It's a gorgeous looking movie. Between the Theodore nice-guy-pity-parties, there were some genuinely nice moments. When he questions whether or not he'll feel anything as strongly as he did before, I think that's something we can all relate to. At the end of the movie, he finally owns up to the idealizing he unfairly imposed on his ex-wife Catherine and apologizes. But then again, these scenes just serve to confuse me more. Am I supposed to be sympathizing with this guy or not? Because I really can't bring myself to.
And I know that trying to "figure out" a piece of art is kind of a silly task. But I also think this film sends out very mixed signals when it comes to what angle I'm supposed to approach it from, and it hurts the experience for me. Is it a warts-and-all love story like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, or a "How Not To Treat People" instruction manual like Ruby Sparks? It seems like it tries to hedge between both and ultimately achieves neither.
Does anyone have any insight that could help me out?
Breaking Bad: Cancer, Cliffhangers, and Shakespeare
A look at 5b and some unexpected character development thus far.
A recurring theme throughout Greek tragedy and the work of Shakespeare is that of hubris as a tragic flaw. The main character seems poised to make it through victorious, only to have his or her own ego cause everything to come crumbling down, ending in defeat.
Throughout Breaking Bad, Walter White's own ego has defined him even more so than the cancer that started his journey. There have been several opportunities for Walt to get out of drug dealing, whether it was his former colleagues offering to pay his medical bills, the guilt of playing a role in causing a mid-air collision, having already hit that $737,000 mark he set for himself, saying no to Gus, quitting after the initial 3 months with Gus, or "counting his lucky stars" after killing Gus. He also could have accepted Gus's offer of simply letting him go in the desert, although that would have meant accepting Hank's murder. Despite all this, Walt always found a reason to keep going, and usually it was his undying desire to, for once in his life, come out on top. Be the best at something. Rule an empire.
His pride led to his downfall in "To'hajiilee." Individually, Walt was always able to manipulate Hank and Jesse for his own needs. Getting Jesse to hurt people, and hurting those close to him. Using his family relationship with Hank to bug his office and stay ahead of him. But Hank and Jesse were always smarter than Walt (and the audience) gave them credit for. Together, they were able to easily outsmart the man who had been outsmarting them for so long. Jesse knows Walt well enough to know what buttons to push to get him to react. Hank knows Heisenberg well enough to know when he's scheming to get Jesse out into the open. It's an interesting paradox, considering that Walt spends most of his time with Hank in a family setting, and Jesse in a "business" setting.
Also, did anyone else think of this during the shot of Walt tearing up on a Native American reservation?
Backtracking to Shakespeare again, how about Skyler? Her transformation to Lady Macbeth is complete. I suppose I can't really claim that she's the "one of the closest things to a morally dignified character Breaking Bad has" anymore. Although given the nature of the show, I guess it was never a particularly strong compliment to begin with. Now, Skyler appears to be the one giving the orders. A scene in "Rabid Dog" symbolically confirms this.
Throughout the entire show, Skyler has always laid on the left side of the bed. In season 5a, Heisenberg would lay down on the right side while Skyler laid terrified of the man beside her. Now, Skyler is on the right side. She is no longer a victim, she is calling the shots. Someone threatens the family? "You need to deal with this." So, is Skyler White as bad as Walter? The answer will differ based on who you ask. Skyler tells Walt to not turn himself in so that their kids can at least keep the money that their parents have gotten their hands so dirty over. She gives Walt the order to kill Jesse because he almost burned down the home that their children sleep in. Walt always told himself, and others, that he was doing what he did for his family, but most people could see that pride was an equally motivating factor, if not more. Skyler is now the person that Walt pretended to be, who does bad things for the sake of her children. But at what point do reasons not matter anymore? That's for you to decide. One thing is certain: she's very morally compromised, but she's as strong as ever.
In fact, many characters have gone in directions I had not foreseen. I would have thought that Walt would continue his downward spiral into corruption, Skyler would continue to be a victim until the day someone knocked on the door looking to harm the family, and Hank would have become the white knight ready to save the day.
Instead, Skyler has become Skysenberg. Hank resembles Heisenberg in some ways: dangerously obsessive with achieving his goals and not minding if someone has to get hurt along the way. And in a time where Skyler, Hank, and Saul all consider murder an acceptable outcome, there have been multiple instances when Walter White is the only person on screen NOT advocating for murder. Walt's lung cancer is back, but Heisenberg is in remission.
This could also be a good metaphor for explaining why Hank, Skyler, and Jesse have gone in the directions they have. They've been spending so much time around Heisenberg, being used by him or getting involved in his business, that his aggressive nature and lack of moral compass have spread into them like tumors. The cancer of immorality.
As far as Jesse is concerned, he is doing about what I expected in 5b. Him and Walt becoming enemies does not surprise me; what does surprise me is that the show is revisiting an aspect of their relationship I thought died when Brock was poisoned: the toxic father/son relationship. Walt in 5a was constantly trying to keep Jesse on a short leash. He wore the watch Jesse gave him with such pride knowing that he could take this young man who wanted him dead one week, and have him buying birthday presents the next. Jesse was his loyal dog. However, as Hank points out in "Rabid Dog," maybe all that leash tugging wasn't just to gain something. Maybe some of it was to genuinely make Jesse like him by keeping him close. Walt wants Jesse's love. When Walt gets angry, he verbally abuses Jesse. He has used him and those around him, and the two of them have gotten into multiple physical altercations. It's never perfect. But when push comes to shove, Walt defends Jesse's character to Skyler and Jack, and gets stern with Saul when he suggests Jesse be put down. When Walt is sitting by the hotel pool mulling over Skyler's suggestion, you may notice that the pool resembles something.
"Should have brought our suits."
He's reflecting on Jesse, reminiscing about all the time they spent together. Just the two of them, father and son, the two greatest meth cooks in the world. And after receiving a visit and hug from his other son, he can't help but make the decision to meet and talk to Jesse instead of having him killed. Mike would probably call the decision to sit down and have a chat with someone who just tried to burn down your home a "half measure," but Walt's "nothing is more important than family" mentality is back at the forefront.
Speaking of Jesse almost burning the house down, I want to comment on the one thing I consider a misstep in season 5b: the "cliffhanger" endings. "Confessions" and "To'hajiilee" both ended right in the middle of hugely dramatic scenes. The only problem is, we were more or less told the outcomes of these two scenes during the flash forwards in "Live Free or Die" and "Blood Money." We already know Walt doesn't get arrested in the desert, and the only way Hank is going to let him get away at this point is if he's dead or severely injured. How else could Walt get out of the handcuffs and into New Hampshire? Likewise, we knew Jesse wasn't going to burn the house down, because it was clearly still standing, with no fire damage, when Walt goes back for the ricin.
Having seen the flash forwards, these two endings did still leave me with some intriguing questions. Why is Jesse unsuccessful burning down the house? Does he choose not to, or does Walt find him first and kill him? Or is it the guys Hank told to tail him. And why did the Nazis show up even after Walt told them not to? But imagine if we hadn't seen the flash forwards? The reaction to "Confessions" would be "HOLY SHIT IS JESSE ABOUT TO BURN WALT'S FUCKING HOUSE DOWN WITH GASOLINE???" There would have been more drama if we didn't already know the general outline of things to come.
A few more random thoughts:
Lydia looks poised to make a big move at some point. Her buyer in the Czech Republic is not happy with Todd's meth, and she will have to do something about it. Something drastic. I think someone is getting kidnapped.
I think the ricin Walt comes back for in the flash forwards is "rat poison."
If you subscribe to Breaking Bad color theories, you know that "yellow is bad, blue is good," and red is violent. Gus wears red when he kills Victor. Walt wears red when he proclaims that he is the danger. Hank wears red when he finally confronts Walt by punching him in the face. There is an amazing example of color theory in "Buried" with Lydia.
Lydia wears a big blue coat while meeting with Declan. This suggests that she is all business and being "good." Playing by the rules. She's just there to inspect the lab and check on the quality of the cooks.
...but not really. On the bottom of her shoes, the violent red. Her big outer blue is just a disguise for her true intentions beneath the surface. Poor Declan. He only ever looked like a fool in front of Heisenberg, made subpar meth, and was gunned down by a group of neo-Nazis.
Speaking of the Nazis, I've always had a small, half-joke theory that Walter has a white supremacist streak in him. He has the kind of love for capitalist business that is usually reserved for the elite white American. Any notable characters of color on the show, black or hispanic, have ended up as his opposition. There have been no confirmed gay characters, but the ones you could make a case for have also been killed because of Walt. His biggest allies in the drug world thus far? Jesse (straight, white) and a giant group of neo-Nazis. He takes on a very neo-Nazi look with the shaved head and facial hair. Oh, and his last name is White. It's a conspiracy.
Edit: Tumblr user feministtv has written a much larger take on the white supremacist undertones of Walter White. You can read the entire thing here: http://feministtv.tumblr.com/post/61247485431/white-pink-brown-blue-the-racial-politics-of
Another theory/observation: It's possible others have made this connection before, but I've always found that Walt's ascension to the top of his meth business looked a lot like American capitalism at its purist. He started off with nothing but the skills he could use. He found a partner that already had his foot in the door, but was just as small-time as he was. Because their "business" was still new, they were forced to deal with bigger players to try to expand their business, at the expense of control of their product. Once they were done dealing with Tuco, they tried the very late 2000s era strategy of direct distribution. Cutting out the middle man and selling straight to the customers, which is something we've seen become increasingly prevalent in the music and other entertainment industries. But this method comes with it's own problems: it's harder to expand your market, which means less possible money. So they allow themselves to be bought out by Gus, a tycoon of their industry. He's not like Tuco; he's much more powerful, allows Walt and Jesse freedoms they did not previously have, supplies them with superior equipment, and gives their product access to a much greater market for millions of dollars.
But eventually, an ambitious businessman like Walt wants to be his own boss and sustain his own brand. Heisenberg is cutthroat and willing to bring down his competition however he can. Once Gus is out of the way, he regroups and rises to the top himself. He becomes his own boss, at the top of his game, and is able to procure himself a comfortable retirement towards the end of his life. Which just happens to be around the age of 52.
Finally, I felt like these shots from "To'hajiilee" represented Walt as Ozymandias really well.
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
The way Walt holds up his arms in front of Hank looks more like defiance than surrender. As if to say, "well, you've finally found it. take a look at my empire."
But the defiance is short-lived, as the episode ends with Walt handcuffed in a car, helpless. And below him, the remains of his kingdom are sunken and buried in the sand.
(I originally wrote this review for http://www.thecaptainslog.org/ as Jessica Curry was kind enough to provide me with a free review copy.)
I step through the graveyard and enter the church, the voices of the children beckoning me. As I cautiously move through the candlelit corridors of St. Dunstand’s cathedral, I suddenly find myself standing in the grand sanctuary, while the swift, blaring organ of “The Church” declares my arrival. In the pews, I find a stuffed teddy bear; on the altar, the corpses of two pigs lay rotting. And in the next room, I find and pull a strange lever, revealing a grand staircase beneath the cross. I begin my descent into the shadows to face whatever horrors lurk beneath the surface.
Experiencing a project by UK developer The Chinese Room can feel less like a video game and more like a dream being projected onto your computer screen. Their latest work is Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs, the long awaited follow-up to 2010’s horror sensation, Amnesia: The Dark Descent (developed by Frictional Games). While A Machine for Pigs may be destined to receive very polarizing fan reception given the very different styles of the two studios, what cannot be denied is the quality and impact of Jessica Curry’s original score.
Jessica Curry solidified herself as one of the gaming industry’s most significant composers with her musical work for 2012’s Dear Esther. Esther, The Chinese Room’s first game, is often described as an experimental “first-person ghost story.” The game was praised not only for its uniqueness in structure, but also in sound, as Curry’s score went on to help Esther gain multiple BAFTA nominations, and was recently featured on a BBC Radio special. The soundtrack features several non-looped sprawling orchestral pieces that are not commonly found in video games, which Curry herself admits is partially a result of her own inexperience with game making.
In A Machine for Pigs, one of the most noticeable differences from Esther is that Curry’s music sometimes takes a backseat and plays a full supporting role to the game interaction. Esther’s music is always grand and often defines the game experience, but many of the earlier songs in the 51 track score for Pigs are kept low-key. These songs serve to aid the visual experience with foreboding and disorienting sounds, such as sharp noises from the bending, sliding, and scratching of steel strings, mixed with uneasy ambience. These songs may not be particularly enjoyable to listen to on their own, but they create the kind of tension and confusion fitting for a horror game. While Esther’s grandiose pieces were not unwelcome (quite the opposite), it’s good to see Curry is able to show restraint when necessary.
Of course, she is still willing to write songs that hit hard, and there are plenty in the Pigs soundtrack. The first of these is “The Church,” which I described previously. As of writing this review, I have only played the game to just past the church scene, but with songs like “Mors Praematura,” and “The New Century,” it is clear that there are more stunning and horrifying moments to come. These sequences where music is the driving force are where The Chinese Room is at their best. Whether it’s terrifying pieces such as “Christ Have Mercy” and “The Streets of London,” or beautiful, triumphant sounding works like “Mandus,” Curry consistently displays her ability to captivate players and, even if only for a moment, turn them into listeners.
Many of the songs in Pigs contain recurring musical themes. While listening to the soundtrack in order, I noticed underlying similarities in many pieces that may help tell the game’s story. “In Lily’s Honour,” “Recital,” “Edwin and Enoch,” “Music of the Spheres,” “Downward Ever,” “This Leaking World,” and “Ever Mine” all contain different variations of the same melodies. Sometimes the sounds are more distorted and distant, sometimes they are in a different key, sometimes they are played on different instruments, but always the thread of continuity remains. This is done with other groups of songs as well, with Curry choosing to include character dialogue at times to provide context. As I continue to play through the game, I will stay mindful of these connections and how they may come together.
Perhaps Curry’s biggest success with her work on Pigs is successfully bringing an emotionally diverse set of songs. This is not just a monotonous show of dark ambience. The horror is horrifying, but there are also tender moments to be found in the score. “Dieses Herz,” a German choral ballad, is the greatest example. It contains the kind of sincere beauty that can be hard to find in musical works of any kind. If I were to have listened to this song without knowing where it came from, I would never guess it came from a video game defined as “horror.” This may very well be Curry’s finest song to-date.
The experience of listening to the 51-song soundtrack for A Machine for Pigs is a complex one. The music varies from experimental collages of odd sounds, to sinister choir arrangements, to somber piano pieces. But it all comes together to form a deep and poignant score for The Chinese Room’s latest offering. That the small UK developer has followed up Dear Esther with another exceptional release solidifies their place as one of the best new studios in gaming. I will be looking forward to what they have in store for years to come, the soonest of which will be their upcoming Playstation 4 exclusive, “Everybody’s Gone to the Rapture.” But for now, “I drag myself deeper into the temple. Downward ever, towards a wind that held the voices of her children, beckoning me to set them free.”
Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs is available now through Steam and other online stores.
Jessica Curry’s original score for the game is available now through her bandcamp page.
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A Reddit user claimed to have seen the eight final episodes (four of them being "rough edits") because he or she knew someone involved with the show. Whenever someone on the internet claims to "know a guy, who knows a guy...who knows another guy," my bullshit meter goes through the roof, so I figured it was safe to read.
I immediately regretted it. What if I had just spoiled my favorite show's ending? I would be so mad at myself for caving like that. But as the Reddit user kept typing up episode summaries, I kept reading them because I figured, hey, I'm in it now, I'm compromised, I might as well keep going.
Luckily, as the "spoilers" kept flowing, it became more and more obvious that they were fake (the user later admitted to it as well). It was made crystal clear when the final episode was posted. In this fake version of the Breaking Bad finale, it is revealed that Gus Fring worked for the corrupt Chilean government under Pinochet, and then his formers comrades had come to ABQ to avenge his death. These major characters were both revealed and killed in the same episode. Talk about bad writing.
But these ridiculous made-up spoilers got me thinking: we still don't know what Gus was doing in Chile before going to Mexico in 1989. Pinochet? Would that be possible?
Flash forward to last night: I'm watching the AMC marathon of season four with my dad (who, by the way, has changed his tune on Skyler after finishing season five). And you know what? The episode "Hermanos" actually seems to provide a lot of evidence for the maybe-not-so-crazy idea that Gus served in Pinochet's death squads in the 70s and 80s.
"Is Gustavo Fring your real name?"
Hank's suspicion that Gus Fring is Heisenberg leads to a small round of DEA questioning of Gus regarding Gale's murder. Hank, as is his style throughout the series, waits until the questioning seems to be over to drop one last bombshell: there are no records of Gus ever existing in Chile, despite him being a Chilean national. This question seems to throw Gus off a bit, but he composes himself and explains to Hank that it isn't that strange that the records don't exist, because Pinochet's government was corrupt and dysfunctional. Bad record keeping wouldn't be a shock to anyone.
It's interesting that Gus mentioned human rights abuses. It's true, Pinochet had death squads that would torture and murder thousands of people by the time he stepped down from power, but what does that have to do with record keeping?
When Gus leaves the DEA office, the first thing we see is a close up of his hand. His fingers are twitching in what looks like a nervous tick. Why is Gus, who is hardly ever shaken up, showing signs of shot nerves right after having a question about Chile come at him from left field? Clearly it's a sensitive subject. Or maybe the finger twitches are muscle memories of a much more gruesome time, and the reason he brought up "human rights abuses" is because it haunts him. He was involved.
Cinematography is extremely important in Breaking Bad. They don't just show close-up shots of something for no reason.
"What about Chile?"
Later in the episode, Gus gets a call from Mike who has been snooping around to find out how deeply the DEA suspects him of being involved in Gale's meth dealings. Mike lets him know that Hank has gone rogue, and that the rest of the department thinks Gus is clean.
Gus then asks Mike about Chile. It turns out Mike was told to try to dig up the Chilean records himself, presumably to make sure it couldn't be done. Mike claims that if he can't do it, he's sure Hank can't.
This contradicts what Gus tells Hank at the DEA, when he encourages Hank that the records must surely exist somewhere.
Clearly, this is NOT just a case of bad book keeping. Gus is actively trying to suppress his history.
"Sangre por sangre"
And then we get to the flashback. Gus and his partner meet with the Cartel in hopes of going into business with them. Needless to say, the Cartel does not appreciate their pitch, and the meeting ends with Gus's partner being shot in the head while Gus is forced to watch him bleed out.
Don Eladio then says the following:
(side note: learn to make .gifs)
Multiple times during their meeting, Don Eladio wondered out loud why he would need to keep Gus around in any potential partnership, and expressed that he felt very disrespected by Gus dealing drugs in his territory. The fact that he spares Gus despite all this means that whoever Gus was in Chile, he was involved in something really big. Maybe bigger than the Cartel.
Considering the timeline, let's say Gus is 50 years old during present day. The show takes place somewhere between 2008-2010, so this means he was 30 years old when he met with the Cartel. This puts Gus in Chile during his 20s, during the height of Pinochet's rule. Age-wise, it would make a lot of sense for Gus to have been a soldier under the corrupt regime. Pinochet was voted out of power during the Chilean national plebiscite in 1988. Gus went to Mexico in 1989. It's very possible he fled Chile to avoid being persecuted with Pinochet's men for their human rights violations.
Maybe Gustavo Fring isn't his real name after all.
The name comes from a poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley. It is also the name of the upcoming 5b14 episode. The poem, as Walt recites in the trailer, goes like this:
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear --
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.'
Depending on how you look at it, these words are either very bleak or deceptively optimistic (or both).
On the one hand, the voice behind the poem has been told of a lifeless ruin from some far away land. Sunk. Shattered. Cold. Upon these dead relics is the name of a ruler from a time long ago. Ozymandias, who once commanded fear with his impressive power, has left nothing but a "bare, boundless and colossal wreck." The ironic contrast of the written declaration of power vs the total lack of anything powerful around it is melancholy. Time has withered away at his kingdom.
...Or has it? The fact remains that even long after Ozymandias is gone, travelers still tell stories about the remains of his empire. He is a legend. Although all of the material symbols of his power have decayed, his legacy remains. People everywhere remember his name.
Walter White has spent the last year and a half of his life building an empire from nothing. His name strikes fear into those who might oppose him. He has lied and manipulated and killed his way to the top. A kingpin of kingpins. But like the kingdom of Ozymandias, with time, everything comes to an end.
Walt's own pride may very well be satisfied with the idea that the legacy of Heisenberg will live on long after he's gone. But as this trailer suggests, his empire will soon sink into the desert sand.
"I think the people who have these issues with the wives being too bitchy on Breaking Bad are misogynists, plain and simple." - Vince Gilligan
Over the past month, my dad and I have been watching Breaking Bad from start to finish in preparation for the final eight episodes. This was my dad's first time watching the show, and my first time watching the show with another person.
And of course, somewhere between seasons two and three:
"This woman is such a bitch."
"I hate her so much."
"This woman is a really good actor, because I genuinely hate her."
I knew about all the hate Skyler gets, but I had never experienced it from someone in person. It is perplexing that in a show featuring a protagonist that is a manipulative, drug-dealing murderer, the character that many viewers despise is the wife, whose only crime (early on) is telling him “no.”
So, why do so many people hate Skyler? Maybe a lot of viewers simply don't understand the character.
What motivates Skyler White?
"When we do what we do for good reasons, then we've got nothing to worry about. There's no better reason than family." - Walter White
Vince Gilligan has recently come up with a new favorite reason as to why many viewers dislike Skyler. Paraphrasing here, the explanation is essentially, "viewers dislike and can't identify with helpless characters, because no one wants to feel helpless themselves." He defines Skyler's "helplessness" as the dilemma she faces between turning Walt in and devastating her family, or helping Walt launder his money so that she can help keep him from getting caught (Preventing the devastation of the family). She chooses the latter.
I think Vince is 100% wrong on this. Having read a fair amount of Skyler-hate posts, one thing people seem to dislike most is her supposed "controlling" disposition. They hate that she wants Walt to get chemotherapy, that she kicks him out of the house when she finds out about the drug dealing, that she refuses to let Walt use his drug money to buy his son a nice car. They don't see a helpless character, they see a character that should be more helpless.
The problem here is that labeling all of this as some self-centered grasp at control is incredibly dismissive. I'd go as far as to say that all of Skyler's actions throughout the series are done with one thing in mind: her children.
Skyler doesn't want Walt to give up on chemotherapy, because she wants her kids to have their father around for as long as possible. She kicks him out of the house when she finds out he's a drug dealer because she is fearful that Walt's actions will bring danger to their home. She refuses to let Walter Jr. keep the expensive car because it will raise suspicions as to how they could afford it, which could mean their children eventually finding out about their father's crimes. She helps launder Walt's money for the same reason.
Even her affair with Ted, which most people see as a passive-aggressive way of getting back at Walt, is done for her children. That's right, there's nothing "passive" about it at all. Skyler has her affair as a way to aggressively anger Walt into divorcing her. Creating as much physical and emotional distance as possible. Which means her children are no longer trapped in the crosshairs of a drug empire.
for the kids.
For as often as Walt's defenders remind us that Skyler shouldn't stand in his way because he is "providing for his family," it's ironic that many of them don't realize that the only person on the show actually doing that is Skyler. Walt's motivations are infinitely more self-serving.
And speaking of Walt, maybe these people who "fucking hate that cunt" understand Skyler just fine. Maybe it's Walt they misunderstand.
Why Walter White is kinda sorta not at all the person you want to think he is
"If Walter White has a true superpower, it’s not his knowledge of chemistry or his intellect, it’s his ability to lie to himself. He is the world’s greatest liar." - Vince Gilligan
If I had to guess how a Skyler-hating fan of Breaking Bad would summarize the show, it would probably go something like this:
A humble high school chemistry teacher gets cancer and decides to turn to manufacturing crystal meth using his vast scientific knowledge to leave money for his family after he dies. Along the way, he grows as a man (and becomes a total badass) by learning to do whatever is necessary to provide for his kids, and paving his own way without any help.
If you believe that^ to be an accurate description of Breaking Bad, consider yourself Heisenberg's latest victim. You've been deceived.
There's an episode in season five called "Buyout," in which Walt and Jesse have a conversation about selling their entire supply of methylamine to a competitor and getting out of the drug trade. In business terms, Jesse wants Walt to agree to sell all their assets and let this other "company" buy out their business for $5 million dollars each.
Walt refuses. He explains to Jesse the story of Gray Matter, the multi-billion dollar company that he himself co-founded with two friends in college, and how he sold his shares in the company for $5,000 dollars early on. He then delivers the iconic line, "you asked me if I was in the meth business or the money business. Neither. I'm in the empire business."
A lot of people think of that line as just another one of Heisenberg's badass one-liners, but it's actually a lot deeper than that. The entire conversation Walt has with Jesse in that scene is meant to show you that Walt was no longer doing this for his family. He was doing it for himself, and maybe always had been. The way he speaks to Jesse about selling out his potential for "pennies on the dollar," the fact that he checks how much money Gray Matter is worth every week (and has been doing so for who knows how many years). All of this is meant to finally show the viewer that Walt saw drug dealing as a way to make up for his own personal failures that stemmed much farther back than his cancer. All that talk about "providing for his family" was merely a rationalization of his true motivation: to build something great for himself.
The truth is, Walt has been endangering his family much more than he has been helping them. His actions brought members of the Mexican drug cartel to his home, where his children sleep, on two separate occasions (Tuco and the cousins). If anyone besides Walt had been home when the cousins came looking for him, they'd be dead. Hank also came face to face with these cartel members as a direct result of Walt's dealings, almost killing him and causing him deep physical and emotional damage. Walt's house is constantly watched and bugged by members of Gus's drug network. Gus threatens to kill his entire family.
And let's not forget Jesse Pinkman. Walt may see something in Jesse, but this is far outmatched by the fact that he sees Jesse as easy prey. When asked why he works with a "junkie," Walt tells Gus, "because he does what I say." Walt has Gale replaced by Jesse because Gale is not as easily controlled. He has Brock poisoned and guilts Jesse into breaking up with Andrea. When he's trying to convince Jesse not to leave in "Say My Name," he talks about "all the people we've killed: Gale...and the rest." Walt has killed plenty of people at this point, but of course the only victim he mentions by name is the one that Jesse himself killed and feels most guilty about. Walt doesn't want a friend or a partner, he wants someone he can manipulate.
This even applies to his own family. There's a scene in "Hazard Pay," after Skyler has her big "shut up!" breakdown, where Marie confronts Walt to ask what's been going on. We as the viewers know that Skyler's breakdown was because of the fact that she has to live not only with a selfish, manipulative, drug-dealing murderer for a husband, but also with the guilt that she has played a part in aiding his actions. However, Walt plays Marie and makes it seem like Skyler feels guilt over her affair with Ted. A stunned Marie then gets up and HUGS WALT, as if HE is the victim in all this.
Do you see that disgusting smirk on his face? Walt knows exactly what he's doing. He's turning Skyler's own sister against her out of pure spite. He does the same with his own son, by buying him an expensive car against his wife's wishes. He is now the cool dad and she is the bitch mom.
Early (and I mean really early) in the show, Walt may have truly set out to do what he did for the good of his family. But when Gretchen offers to pay for his medical bills, she is essentially offering him a way out. Walt gets into drug dealing because he is worried his family will be left with nothing after all the medical bills are paid. Gretchen's offer totally negates that, but Walt refuses. He would rather sell drugs and put his family in the middle of the criminal underworld than accept money from the company that represents his past failures.
He chose his own pride over his family.
But Walt is the protagonist, and anyone who impedes the protagonist is someone the viewer should hate
This is one of the more recent explanations I've seen invading the internet comments about Skyler-hate. The rationale here is that, no matter what kind of horrible person Walter White is, Breaking Bad is still his story. This means we are invested in him, and any character that gets in his way or tries to impede him is someone the viewer is probably going to automatically dislike, because of how emotionally devoted we are to Walt's journey.
At first glance, this seems like a really good explanation. It makes Walt's sociopathy a non-factor, which is the main thing he has working against him vs. Skyler. It also appeals to a broad sense of psychology and TV tropes, which all sounds very important and intelligent, thus making the explanation, by association, also seem very important and intelligent.
The only problem is, if you take a couple seconds to really think about it, it's probably the worst reasoning you could possibly give.
We're all meant to hate characters that get in the way of the story's protagonist? Really? All antagonists make you feel the way Skyler makes you feel? So I'm sure you hated The Joker in The Dark Knight the same way you hate Skyler. In fact you must hate every antagonist ("villain") ever, because they stand in the beloved protagonist's way.
Right?
"That's not what I mean at all!" you say. "A villain is just as important to the protagonist's story as the protagonist themselves! I don't hate all villains because without them, the protagonist's story I'm so invested in would cease to exist!"
Okay. That's a fair point. So you're saying that because Skyler is not the true antagonist, but her actions still threaten or attempt to stop the protagonist, she comes across as an annoying secondary character that the viewer can't help but hate.
I have two problems with that.
I have yet to come across anyone who dislikes either one of these characters anywhere close to the way people hate Skyler. What's the difference between them and Skyler? You tell me.
"Gus is so annoying. Hank is such a cunt. Mike is a naggy bitch." - No one ever.
So...what's the reason?
I don't know.
It's a gutsy thing to do, accusing a large chunk of your fanbase of being misogynists as Vince Gilligan did. And I've seen some people try to address it above and beyond the "ugh feminazis" response the internet tends to give.
A few people have suggested that Skyler is just a poorly written character, and that there are other female characters on the show that they do like. Coincidentally, Lydia was mentioned as an example of an "interesting character" every time this came up.
First of all, I flat out disagree that Skyler is poorly written. Her character requires maybe a bit more thinking to understand, as a lot of her development is more subtle, but Breaking Bad was never a show that you could half tune out and expect to catch everything.
Secondly, Lydia as an interesting character. Okay, I'm not hating on Lydia. If you like her, good, so do I. I like most characters on the show. But what exactly makes her more "interesting" than Skyler?
You know what the difference between Skyler and Lydia is?
Fear.
That's not to say that Skyler isn't fearful. She fears for her own safety, Walt's safety, and most of all the safety of her children. But Skyler fights back. Skyler doesn't just do what Walt says, as much as he'd like her to. Skyler stands up to Walt and tells him that what he's doing is wrong and that she will not just take it lying down. Even in season five, when Skyler seems scared to death of Walt, she still stands up to him on his birthday in "Fifty One" and lets him know that she will try to match him at every turn to keep her kids safe. It can't be a coincidence that those first few season five episodes, where Skyler is so shocked at Walt's actions that she is genuinely scared to be around him, are the only time where any Skyler hater seems able to back off and say "I didn't hate her as much then, I felt a bit bad for her."
Lydia, on the other hand, spends most of her screen time cowering in fear of the men on the show. Seriously. With all due respect, I don't think Lydia is the more "interesting" character, I just think she's easier for some people to stomach.
The final reason I've been given to explain the Skyler hate came from just one person. This person said to me, "this is a television show, I couldn't give a fuck about morals. I just want Walt and Jesse to kick ass, and Hank to be a badass."
This is the only explanation I've heard that I consider acceptable.
The idea here is that this person watches Breaking Bad for the action. They wanna see some Cool Shit happen. Skyler, as the voice of reason, would keep Cool Shit from happening if she had her way. Therefore, her presence and character are annoying to this viewer.
Fair enough. My only response to that is, by not caring about the aspects of the show that bring up questions of morality and character, you're missing out on a huge chunk of what makes the show outstanding. Without that, it's apples and oranges. And in order to have a proper discussion about Skyler as a character, you need to appreciate the moral struggles the characters face. Because Skyler is one of the closest things to a morally dignified character Breaking Bad has.
"What a bitch." - The Internet.
(credit for the amazing Skyler gifset goes to tumblr user krazy-8. see the whole thing here: http://krazy-8.tumblr.com/post/28966235050)
Nate is one of the most interesting characters in 400 Days, partly because of his erratic behavior. He definitely has moments where he's an abrasive asshole, and he seems to have at least a bit of a misogynistic streak in him. He has also shown the ability to get incredibly violent and doesn't seem to bat an eye at killing.
But, truth be told, we don't have a lot of details about Nate's situation. True to their usual "moral grey area" style, Telltale has left a lot of his story ambiguous and unclear.
Chronologically, we first see Nate on Day 41. He is chasing after Wyatt and Eddie after Eddie has apparently shot one of his friends. Through the dialogue between Wyatt and Eddie, we find out three things.
There was a misunderstanding between Wyatt/Eddie and Nate's group, apparently over someone going to the bathroom. lolwut.
Eddie "might have" shot the guy on purpose, out of fear, rage, or adrenaline.
Eddie was afraid Nate's group was going to rob and/or kill them.
The way Nate chases those two is clearly meant to present him as the threat, and rightfully so. But his friend was just shot in the head over a misunderstanding. Being enraged and wanting revenge after seeing your friend get murdered in front of you is not the most unreasonable feeling in the world. Eddie was the threat to Nate first.
Fast forward to Russell's story. Nate has his moments, like rolling down the window right next to a walker, but he also appears to maintain control. He tries to shoot the walker and then speeds away when he can't. It was obviously terrifying for Russell, but was he ever really danger of being hurt or bitten? There's also how comfortable Nate is with repeatedly handing Russell his gun. Is this out of trust and a weird sense of kindness, or is he just confident Russell would never turn on him? Or is he just crazy?
And then there's the old couple. I think most people see this as definite proof that Nate is evil. But is it that simple? That old man started shooting at Nate and Russell, and shot out the tires on his truck. At any moment, either of them could have been murdered, and we already know Nate is the vengeful type. Not everyone catches this, but when Nate asks Russell, "what do you say, Russell? Should we just kill these folks and take all their stuff?" he's teasing Russell (in a sick way) because of what Russell told him earlier about his previous group and why he left it. He isn't really asking Russell for permission, because Nate has already made up his mind about killing the old couple. He's just dickishly referencing something he knows Russell is uncomfortable with. But again, this (apparently) isn't about just robbing and murdering other survivors, it's about an eye for an eye. Nate's willingness to kill anyone who harms or tries to harm his partners could just be seen as extreme loyalty. He also lets Russell leave if he wants to, no strings attached.
Another unclear detail is the remark the old man makes about Nate "leaving his mask at home." With his wife's injury, clearly someone had been to the diner and attacked the couple previously. However, there's no clear evidence this was Nate. A mask would imply bandits, similar to Season One. Nate used to be with a group, was it a group of bandits? Eddie was afraid Nate's group was there to rob them. And regardless of what kind of group it was, why is he by himself now?
I wrote this because someone on the Telltale forum described Nate as a "Joker-esque villain." He is rude, a womanizer, vengeful, and cold. But, gorked out eyes aside...are there any clues I missed? Is he really evil?
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This is an assignment a friend of mine had to do this past semester for a music class. I'll be trying to do this once a week.
Listen to the entire CD and describe the music heard (instruments, vocals, sound effects, forms, etc.)- All songs should be described (This can be in a chart)
"The Requiem"
A 2 minute introduction to the album. This song is very ethereal, ambient, and haunting, using only airy backdrops, a quiet bass beat, and a single repeating piano note. The heavily vocoded vocals, sung by the band's own Mike Shinoda, are pitched shifted and almost reminiscent of GLaDOS from the Portal series. The lyrics from this song are used again in the album's penultimate song, "The Catalyst."
"The Radiance"
A minute long segue between tracks 1 and 3. Like the track before it, this song is structured as an interlude to further set the tone of the album. This album makes use of speech samples from various political and activist figures, and the quote used in this song is from none other than Dr. Robert Oppenheimer, the "father" of the atomic bomb. Fear of nuclear war and human opposition are what underlie most of the lyrical themes on A Thousand Suns. As Oppenheimer quotes Hindu scripture, a noisy beat plays beneath him.
"Burning in the Skies"
This song is somewhat of a paradox. As far as mainstream rock music goes, this song is about as generic as it gets both sonically and structurally. However, specifically for Linkin Park, this song is a bit out of left field. Instead of being driven by big distorted guitars, synth pads, rap verses, and a gigantic chorus from lead singer Chester Bennington, "Burning in the Skies" goes in the opposite direction. The song is driven by piano chords and a surprisingly clean guitar rhythm, which sounds like it might be played via fingerpicking as opposed to a guitar pick. Mike Shinoda trades in rap verses for singing, as he does several times throughout the album. Bennington's chorus vocals are also surprisingly subdued in comparison to his other work. This song builds very slowly, finally delivering the payoff at the 2:35 mark when the electric guitar kicks in with a modest guitar solo. For a band known more for head-banging and screaming, the restraint shown here is a pleasant change of pace. Lyrically, we see the band heading into more new territory. Instead of the typical "woe is me" angst aimed at "you" from "me," the band instead uses more metaphorical lyrics to paint an abstract picture. Of course, not all of the personal turmoil is gone, with chorus lyrics such as "I'm swimming in the smoke, of bridges I have burned, so don't apologize, I'm losing what I don't deserve." But even still, the images of burning fires and "oceans of debris" invoke a scene of war and destruction. And if I may add a quick personal note, I've created a bit of a double entendre with one of the lyrics. On paper, the lyric is "the blood of innocence burning in the skies," but I just as easily hear "the blood of innocents burning in the skies," which is just creepier. I like it though.
"Empty Spaces"
This is a 15 second sound clip of crickets, bombs going off, and yelling in Spanish. Yes. That is what this is. And from there, we go to...
"When They Come For Me"
My personal favorite song on the album. Lyrically, this is Mike Shinoda at the most direct and hostile he's ever been. The entire first verse is Shinoda taking shots at critics, fans, artists, label execs, you, your grandmother, his grandmother, etc. for trying to pigeonhole the band as a one-act pop metal group. Shinoda boldly raps that he marches to the beat of his own drum, and if you think he can/should only do the same thing for his entire career, well, have a straw. They aren't the most eloquent lyrics ever written, but sometimes it's nice to see an artist have the balls to say what they want to say. Sonically, this song is very distinct. Percussion is the driving force, with the first 50 seconds of the song being a start-stop introduction of grooving tribal drums and distorted, bassy synth beats. The chorus is completely wordless, with both Shinoda and Bennington chanting an equally tribal vocal melody. The song's last minute includes a bit of a fake-out ending, as the song begins to fade around the 4:00 mark, but comes rushing back moments later with Chester delivering a bizarre arabian chant to close out the song. The spanish vocals from "Empty Spaces" also make another appearance. This song's use of foreign instrumentation and melody, as well as being one of the only songs on the album to contain Shinoda's raps, make it a clear standout (for better or worse).
"Robot Boy"
This track always makes me think of a river. It just flows and does its own thing, with no chorus or any real structure to speak of. According to the band, there are over 15 different layered vocals ebbing and flowing together in this song. It's all very dream-like. Musically, the song continues the overall pattern of piano, ambience, drum machines, and synths, with a big synth solo at the 3:00 mark and very passionate vocals from Chester to end the song. Lyrically, the song could almost be a letter from the band to their younger selves, reassuring them that all the angst they were feeling back then will only make them stronger in the long run. This is probably the most polarizing song on the album, as it is both the least pop as well as one of the softest songs it has to offer.
"Jornada Del Muerto"
An interlude with a spanish title, and japanese lyrics. Translated, the lyrics are "lift me up, let me go," which are, like the "The Requiem," lyrics that will reappear later on in "The Catalyst." More synths and ambience.
"Waiting For The End"
If a casual listener was going to recognize any song from this album, it would probably be this one, as this song got fairly significant radio play. This track, although it may not seem so on first listen, is probably one of the most interesting and diverse songs on the album. It starts off with a synth sample, that same repeating piano note from "The Requiem," an infectious beat, and Mike Shinoda delivering borderline rasta vocals. To this day I still can't tell if he's rapping or singing. The beat then suddenly drops out, leaving only the piano, a spacey tremolo guitar texture, and Chester's soft vocals (with a melody very clearly influenced by Paul McCartney). This song builds really nicely. The beat comes back in, and slowly but surely the track picks up steam by introducing live drums, backing harmonies, more rasta Mike, a strange synth sample of a guitar and Chester's voice, all wrapped up with Bennington singing a final, powerful chorus. If there's one thing Linkin Park has learned with this album, it's patience. They no longer seem to feel the need to come out swinging with big sounds on every song. Overall, this must be the strongest single the band has ever put out.
"Blackout"
Simply put, this song sounds like Nine Inch Nails meets 8-bit chiptune. The song moves in three sections. The first section is dominated by a driving and almost dance-y beat, a playful synth melody, and Chester's...singing? rapping? Like Shinoda on the previous track, it's somewhere in between. However, during the chorus, Chester's delivery is pure screaming, which when put up against that happy sounding synth melody sounds defiant and a bit awkward. The second section is the breakdown, where the beat slows down, a grittier synth comes in, and Chester's vocals from the chorus are aggressively sampled via synth pad. When this fades out, a space-y synth fades in along with some piano chords that stand out much more than they did earlier in the song. Mike Shinoda sings almost psychedelic lyrics showcasing images of space, colors, and landscapes. He almost seems to be appealing to some sort of extraterrestrial being. This is definitely the strangest song on the album, and won't be for everyone.
"Wretches and Kings"
Featuring a sample from Mario Savio's 1964 "gears" speech, this song is pure rebellion. Mike Shinoda is rapping again, this time about the powers that be and fighting back. He also not-so-subtly references Public Enemy's "Bring The Noise" in the first line of the song. Wretches and Kings carries a vaguely industrial hip-hop vibe, as big gritty guitar samples and drum machines power the song. Chester's vocals in the chorus are different for him, as they aren't quite screams, but also something a bit more primal than his typical singing. If you're a fan of the band's hip-hop side, you'll enjoy this. If not, you'll likely skip it.
"Wisdom, Justice, and Love"
Another interlude, this time featuring somber piano, more haunting ambient sounds, and a speech sample from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. The strong anti-war sentiment found in MLK's words reflects the clear themes of fear and war in the album, but as he continues to speak, the band uses filters to slowly turn his voice into a robotic drone. This could be interpreted as MLK's words falling on deaf ears. The album, while not telling a clear story, has a definite narrative quality to it. What that narrative is exactly is left up to the listener.
"Iridescent"
Earlier, I discussed Linkin Park's tendency to write very angsty and angry lyrics. Iridescent is unique in that it contains some of the most overtly hopeful lyrics the band has written to-date. This song starts off as a defeated piano ballad, but quickly turns into a beautiful message of hope and strength. The music builds slowly, from piano, to drums, to guitar, to a huge crescendo of gang vocals during the bridge. There is a joyous, triumphant feeling by the end of this song that is unmatched by the rest of Linkin Park's work, or any other songs I've heard. It's not a particularly creative song, but it doesn't have to be.
"Fallout"
The last interlude, this time repeating the chorus lyrics of "Burning In The Skies" in front of a droning soundscape that leads into the next song. Mike Shinoda's singing voice is once again heavily vocoded. All in all, a relatively forgettable track.
"The Catalyst"
The lead single for the album, as well as the longest track on it. It's not often that any radio single clocks in at 5:40 long, and for what it lacks in radio structure, it makes up for as a sampler for the rest of the album. If any song can summarize A Thousand Suns, it would have to be this one. Synths are all over it, providing an almost euro-house vibe. There are vocoders, dance beats, piano chords, synth solos, and big guitars towards the end. Linkin Park again abandons typical radio structure for a song that instead works in movements, and all those lyrical ideas you've been hearing in the previous interludes finally get thrown back at you in a powerful, almost chaotic way. If A Thousand Suns is a narrative, this is the climax of the story.
"The Messenger"
A Thousand Suns ends with a song completely opposite to the previous track. The Messenger is a simple acoustic ballad, and the only song of its kind in Linkin Park's discography. Bennington has described this song as a letter to his own children as they grow older. He wants them to know that as they go off into the world, when things seem dark, they will always have their family that loves and cares about them. His singing here is incredibly passionate, and almost a bit forced and raspy at times (but it works). This is the happy ending to the story.
What genre/type of music do you think the CD belongs to?
Ha. Trying to describe this album with one genre would be selling the music short and not very informative.
Look at the CD case/booklet: What information is included?
How is it designed/marketed? Is it artistically effective? What
types of pictures (if applicable) are included?
The album cover is minimal and ambiguous. It also happens to be a picture of Mr. Game and Watch.
I kid. It is interesting though. Is it a star? The sun maybe? Is it supposed to resemble a human head? The deluxe art is the same picture but with the colors flipped. That makes it look even more like the sun.
The artwork in the booklet is very much the opposite of the cover. It's more complex and distorted. The lyrics blend in with the art at times. There are bizarre pictures of animal heads and soldiers and other disjointed patterns.
The album is marketed as being just that: an "album." It is meant to be listened to as a cohesive unit, so much so that if the album was pre-ordered off the band's website, the consumer was emailed a single 47 minute mp3 of the entire album start to finish, along with the individual tracks. In an age where singles dominate music sales more than ever, writing an album in such a cohesive way is a risky move commercially and is probably why the album did not have a particular "hit" single.
If you could- How would you change the order of tracks on the CD? Why? Would you leave any tracks out or put tracks in?
As I just mentioned, the band spent a lot of time working the album into a cohesive piece that flows almost seamlessly. For this reason, I would not change the track order, as it would disrupt the experience. However, I would combine tracks 1 and 2, as well as tracks 4 and 5. "The Radiance" and "Empty Spaces" do not feel to me like they need to be their own tracks, as they are very short and I don't imagine anyone would care to single them out and listen to them on their own. I would then possibly add one extra song to the album, wherever it would best fit. There are only 9 "traditional" songs on this album, which is awfully bare. A 10th one could really round out the album.
If you could- How would you change the CD case/booklet? Would you give the album a different title? What type of information would you include? How would you market the album and artist?
The art is great, I don't imagine how it could be improved. The title of the album, "A Thousand Suns," comes not only from song lyrics, but from the Bhagavad Gita (the same book Oppenheimer references in "The Radiance"). It seems like an appropriate title and has grown on me a lot since I first heard it.
As far as marketing goes, that's...tough. Linkin Park put themselves between a rock and a hard place with this album. It isn't pop enough for a lot of their usual fans, but it isn't experimental enough for people who typically like experimental and progressive bands. So the audience that really connected with this album ended up being a pretty particular group of listeners overall.
However I can assure you of one marketing move I would NOT have made. Linkin Park allowed Iridescent to be used in the third Transformers movie. Now, did they reach a very large audience with that? Of course. But the idea behind this album was to set aside commercial success for creative evolution. Letting Transformers take the most beautiful song your band has ever written (at least at the time) and make it the "Transformers song" just really rubs me the wrong way. They could have had a very touching music video campaign. The band chose commercial opportunity over art there.
But even still, this album remains one of my all time favorites. I enjoy playing it for people without telling them who the band is. They always like what they hear.