I recently met an old acquaintance of mine for the first time in some years; let’s call him Bob. He and I were in the same circle of friends during my first few years in Cape Town(2000-2003). We are now both markedly[1] older and more suburban.

I just caught the end of the ecstasy[2] arrival/departure in the run-up to the millennium which meant that I was never around for the summer of love when people still believed that that grubby little pill handed from person to person was going to change the world. By that time the world had experienced the thrills and the bellyaches.

But let’s not forget those early days. Here’s Alexander Shulgin from Pihkal:

As the material came on I felt that I was being enveloped, and my attention had to be directed to it. I became quite fearful, and my face felt cold and ashen. I felt that I wanted to go back, but I knew there was no turning back. Then the fear started to leave me, and I could try taking little baby steps, like taking first steps after being reborn. The woodpile is so beautiful, about all the joy and beauty that I can stand. I am afraid to turn around and face the mountains, for fear they will overpower me. But I did look, and I am astounded. Everyone must get to experience a profound state like this. I feel totally peaceful. I have lived all my life to get here, and I feel I have come home. I am complete.

And so it was, the promise of an end to suffering, the short-lived realisation of that promise[3] and the bellyache on the drive home to reality.

Thrills

As Bob tells the story, he recently decided to open the promising door again and took ecstasy for the first time in several years. He did so on his own as he felt unsure of what his reaction to it would be.
We talked a little about his apprehension at taking the drug again as he had had some bad experiences towards the end of his time in that group of friends with it. As he tells it, he wanted to know how much of it was him and how much the drug.

The problem, of course, with all drugs is that their effect is temporary and there is always a price to pay for that temporary effect. In the case of some drugs that price might be steep[4] but acceptable. This is part of Bob’s story. We considered psychedelics[5]; these certainly are no free lunch, but somehow the ending of the psychedelic state seems to go with a type of acceptance that it wouldn’t stay forever, but that it wasn’t lost. There would remain in the back of your mind the recognition that the psychedelic state exists, that it is natural[6] and was part, and would remain part of you.

However, it seemed to Bob that ecstasy was somehow different. No less powerful, no less astonishing in its empirical and subjective effect – but somehow less real[7]. And this is what he found; the use of ecstasy requires the drugee to suspend their disbelief. It required that he ignore the simple truth that his experience was overwhelmingly artificial – induced.
So how is this different from a psychedelic, dissociative, amphetimenic[8] or other induced experience? It turns out that the answer is simple: because it is the only drug state in which the core of its effect is that you truly believe that it is real; more real and true than your normal state[9].
This is why you’ll hear ecstatitians saying things like ‘Why don’t we always relate to each other like we do now? We should from now on’. Sound a little naive? A little suspended from disbelief? Sure.

And so Bob found the problem with ecstasy; it requires its participants to suspend their disbelief and as we mature and develop our rational independent thought[10] this becomes unviable.

So what about Bob’s experience then? Well, as he describes it it seems that once he accepted the fact that none of it was true he had fun running around and being silly. Later he had a nap and then a shower.
However, he did say that he would never be able to do it with other people again since the believers’ exclamations of eternity and joy could not overcome his aging disbelief.
And I suppose that this is why MDMA isn’t a viable long term relationship – what little of that state it lets you bring back with you is somehow overwhelmed by the desire to not let go of it. And isn’t that the value of maturing? Learning to let go, to remember how things were but aren’t anymore.

[1] Having both breached new decades in the last few years.
[2] Let’s not be coy and call it MDMA/MDA or MD*A
[3] Most often accompanied by thumping music
[4] Reports on amphetamines are particularly scary
[5] i.e. LSD, psilocybin, 2CB et al
[6] i.e. very much part of the natural world
[7] Which, of course, it is not
[8] Is that even a word?
[9] And it might well be more real, less filtered etc. but what it is not is permanent
[10] Those of us that do

The horror… the horror

Korn[1] unplugged is an atrocity on so many levels. Where to begin?
I’ll do my best to illustrate its utter insipidness.

Firstly, the unplugged concept; it worked great in the 90′s when we all still believed that musicians could somehow ‘discover new aspects to their music’[2]. It worked for Pearl Jam because at that stage the listenership wasn’t one step ahead of the loud/acoustic curve yet. It worked for Nirvana because it showed that they were just normal, simple songwriters after all[3]. And it worked for George Michael and Rod Stewart because they got to wear tight stylish pants.
It doesn’t work for Korn because with this album they are trying to show a side of themselves that everyone was already bored with before they even sat their flannelled behinds down on those high chairs.

Speaking of which, they suck at it. The idea seems to have been to expand their musical range by presenting their back catalogue illuminated by congas and flamenco guitars, but simply put – they’re no good.
The arrangements are thin without being sparse. The vocals are nasal without being raw. The emotions are troubled without being real. When the lights went down after the show none of them went out into a back alley with a spike in their arm and a spoon; they had a decaf caramel latte and a clove cigarette handed to them.

Next on the list of atrocities; the visual style. The pastel hues, the dreadlocks, the faux-weird animal masks, the fucking congas(again) – it all comes together with one voice to say: cheap stylist; or even worse, DIY. The album cover is a twee horror, but at least it spares you the pain of having to see that crap move (as the DVD does).
I feel sick.

Dude, let’s flip the R around to make it backwards.

But all of these are only minor missteps on this path to total musical horror. Style is subjective and some people think its groovy when you wear a pristinely dry-cleaned cowboy shirt with your pristinely manicured dreadlocks. The aesthetic antichrist awaits.

Obviously two key ingredients to any successful range-extending unplugged performance are guest artists and cover versions of classic songs. Nirvana did both, so why shouldn’t Korn? Nirvana brought on the Meat Puppets who were, until then, a relatively unknown indie group and they blew the doors off of the show. Korn bring on Amy Lee fresh from her multi-platinum emo-goth world tour and she sucks. You see the difference.
And as for cover versions; Nirvana pulled out three – The Vaselines[4], a David Bowie and a Ledbelly – and turned in brutal, fucked-up performances of all three. Korn pull out two covers, a The Cure song (featuring very cool Robert Smith) and Radiohead’s Creep. Fuck. Horror.
The reason I so detest Korn’s cover of Creep is not simply that they murder it and completely miss the point of the song; it’s more than that. But let me first vent about what they do to the song. Firstly, they play it far too slowly. It is not a ballad – never was. Remember the video with the strobing stage light behind Thom Yorke; that wall of Noise? Secondly the vocal performance is horrible – horrible; dripping with tweedy mock weirdness in the lines ‘Well-a ah’m a creeep, ah’m weirdooo-o-o; what the hellamadoin’ here?’ – nuff said. Horror.
But still this is not the reason why Korn’s cover of Creep is worthy of derision.

Probably the most important part of any self indulgent unplugged session[5] is for the artist to play a touchstone song that illuminates their roots to their fans. Somewhere in every successful unplugged performance the band and the audience share a revelation of a common musical past. In Korn’s case they choose Creep.
Now; when Creep was released in 1993 its effect was seismic. Pablo Honey itself is not the greatest of rock albums, but that one song did give a whole new generation of geeks a cause to scream from their gut. I’m willing to bet that an entire generation of rock music listeners will point to it as a turning point in their desire for noise, and to make a noise.
It cannot and shouldn’t be covered in the same way that no-one should ever remake Casablanca or Dirty Harry. That song is of its time and should be allowed to remain there[6]. It was never meant to exist in 2007, least of all under the burden of acoustic guitars.

But Korn – fucking Korn – just cannot leave such a seminal influence undiscussed. They frickin’ have to find a way to say to their fans: ‘Hey man. Look! We share a musical past, we come from the same place. We love you and you love us.’

Fuck you.

[1] Let me dispel any expectations of my knowing anything about the band. I recognise their look but have no idea what their names are. I shall refer to the band collectively as ‘they’.
[2] As compared to today when we know that anything that comes out of us – whether it be sounds, words or otherwise – is constantly and instantly transforming and being transformed. deep hey?
[3] And not necessarily great musicians either
[4] Let’s be honest; no one on the planet had heard of them before the Nirvana
[5] And Nirvana’s certainly was self-indulgent
[6] Don’t get me wrong, I loved that song – but I’ve not heard it for years; I don’t even have a copy of it, which is how it should be.

The new hot thing in South Africa is Phuza Thursday. Phuza (pronounced Pooh-za) is the Zulu term for drink and Thursday is the day on which wild South Africans are getting phuza’d.
It all started when radio DJ Gareth Cliff[1] commented on a new thing in Johannesburg where people[2] were spilling the weekend over into Thursday nites – going out and getting hammered.
Jhb is much more of a going-out-every-nite-of-the-week kind of city than Cape Town and probably ranks second only to Stellenbosch[3] in terms of hardcore drinking. Many suspect it is because in Jhb there really isn’t anything to do but braai, go to malls and go out kuiering, and of course you can phuza while doing all three.

Cliff probably coined the phrase as an extension of Woza Weekend[4] itself an extension of Woza Friday – a song by Juluka.
Can’t wait for Woza Weekend, then you may as well have a Phuza Thursday.

The whole Phuza Thursday thing has taken off like a rocket and it has become perfectly acceptable to on a Friday morning complain about a bit of a Phuza Face.
Of course the marketing fraternity are not far behind in picking up on a new vibe and Phuza Thursday on 5FM is now sponsored by Essentiale. Oh, and yes – www.phuzathursday.co.za is already taken.

Well, seeing as how I am a hot, hip and happening kind of dude I did the obvious last nite and went home, opened a soft red blend and a glass and a half later I was under a blanket on the couch enjoying my wild Thursday.
Of course this morning I had a bit of a Phuza Face[5], but somehow it didn’t come up around the watercooler.

Phuza?

[1] There are lots of things I don’t like about Cliff, but he does know radio.
[2] White, urban, mobile – his listeners
[3] Even more white and mobile, but less urban
[4] A popular Friday nite variety TV show from the 90′s which became lingo for friday evening party time
[5] By my standards, at least

I recently saw a fascinating documentary on Charlie’s Angels[1]. First airing on American network[2] television in 1976 the show caused a tsunami of media coverage as it exploded in popularity. It launched the career of Farrah Fawcett[3] and created the iconic 70′s california girl image.
But, more than just being a great(trashy) piece of pop-culture of its time, the show had a more profound social impact that is relevant even today.

Angels

Firstly, in terms of popular media culture the show created the genre of Fluff TV in which the audience is less interested in story arcs or character nuances than what they want to see experience the characters’ exciting and beautiful lives. To paraphrase one of the producers; the audience didn’t care about the struggles of the characters, all they wanted was to see what the characters were wearing, where they hung out and how much fun they had.
Consider this; while the show had a very modest production budget[4] it had an unheard of budget for wardrobe – $2,500 per week, and that’s 1976 dollars. The show had an in-house designer responsible for the girls’ clothes and they never wore the same outfit twice.
The idea that a show’s characters are showpieces first and foremost and the emphasis placed on wardrobe was embraced first by the ladies of Dynasty then by LA Law and now by Desperate Housewives. It has become a staple of high-end pop culture entertainment.

Wardrobe TV

Secondly, it took genre of Sex TV to the next level, or as its was called Jiggle TV. The most radical decision the producers took in the first season was for the girls to stop wearing bra’s on the show. It was nipple central from there on out.
This legacy of squeeky clean innocent sex culminated in the early 90′s in Britney’s Baby One More Time and now in the Girls of the Playboy Mansion.

The Farrah poster – 8 million copies sold on the back of those babies

And most radically, it upset feminists no end because here you had a bunch of blonde[5] chicks who were clad in the images of sex, but still totally innocent in character. They were flirty and rambunctious but the show still insisted on selling them as strong independant women. How is this possible? It’s an impossible contradiction. Yes, I burnt by bra, but not so that some airhead could run around jiggling all over the place.
It was the perfumed smell of post-feminism wafting bra-less through the corridors of social power.

[1] the TV show, not the movie
[2] ABC to be exact
[3] and undoubtably her hair stylist as well
[4] i.e. was produced on the cheap
[5] sure, two of them were brunettes, but all of them were blondes in spirit

There seems to be very few genuine taboo’s left in the world. If I think about it seriously I’d say that incest[1] is the only truly universal taboo that I know of. And incest has a solid biological foundation – you can’t really argue against the dangers of inbreeding[2]. It seems perfectly rational to me that this taboo would be very deeply ingrained in all human societies over eons of development.
However, western society observes another taboo that is often judged in the same league as incest but is significantly less ancient and certainly not rooted in a biological imperative: blasphemy.

While the taboo against speaking ill of a god is present in most religions, in most cases it is treated as a relatively straightforward offence that will invoke the wrath of the offended god[3].
However, this is not the case in the three dominant religions[4] in modern society: Christianity, Islam and Judaism.
These three are, of course, very closely related (I’d rather not call them brotherly) so one could argue that their violent opposition to blasphemy has common roots. Not that they’ll admit it.

Blasphemy has two applications: to members of the religion in question and to a wider society within which the religion exists. Its purpose within a religion is clear: to prevent subversion of the supreme authority that the religion claims over its members. Who would fear a god that you could interrogate? To society its application is more historic/political; it provides a basic refuge against agression[5] from other groups. This is particularly applicable to Islam[6]. Simply put, if you’re one of us it stops you from digging too deep into the dogma, if you’re one of them it gives us a justification for[7] rejecting the criticisms that threaten us.

That said, despite(or is it because of?) the pervasive wariness(fear?) of blasphemy there’s very little of it to be had. When I took an interest in serious blasphemy[8] I had a hard time finding any.
This surprised me. Why don’t more people take a stab at, what must be perceived as an absurd, soft underbelly of polite society? And why don’t more rationalists give it the finger?

Now immediately I have to correct myself. There is, right now, a growing collection of considered, rational blasphemy – on youtube of all places. The Blasphemy Challenge is simple; record a video of yourself denying the existence of the Christian Holy Spirit. According to conservative Christian dogma this will result in the eternal damnation of your soul with all the fire and brimstone that the finest type of damnation entails.

I won’t bore you with the hoo-haa that’s developed around this with counter- and counter-counter arguments flying all over, but it has created an interesting response and did convince me that I needed to consider my stand on this.
While I do think that this is a clever and elegant protest against pervasive religious morality, it’s not the type of blasphemy that I’m after.

My perception of the Blasphemy Challenge is that it is more about taking a stand against the underlying superstitions that prevent people from rejecting things that they don’t really believe in than what it is vengeful/hateful blasphemy from the gut. And by saying this I don’t mean to detract from the positive effect that the challenge has had in getting people talking about the topic. But I don’t think that it is the type of blasphemy that would cause the offended god to immediately and violently take revenge upon the poor fool who dares utter it.
It’s not that on-a-blasted-heath-,-drowned-in-torrential-rain wild style of blaspheeme.
That’s the kind of blasphemy that I’m looking for – the dangerous kind[9]. Not because I’m after dark sarcasm or fatalistic whatever. But because it’s important.
It’s important to me that it exist, and it’s important for you too.

So, in Blasphemy pt.2 I’ll look at the difference between blasphemy lite and the real thing. I’m also trying to find a sound reasoning for my position on the big B.
Lastly, I’m working on a short written piece that might just earn me a lightning bolt – that’ll be part three.

[1] Along with sex between family members, let’s include sex outside of one’s species.
[2] Well, I suppose you can, but your descendents won’t be around very long to continue the argument.
[3] By all accounts a very bad thing
[4] Obviously not discounting the importance of Hinduism which has a large number of devotees all over the world, but frankly is not dominant in terms of society and politics.
[5] Whether perceived or real
[6] And let me state right now that I have no interest in trashing Islam – it’s too boring and square to offer an interesting target.
[7] Agressively
[8] And let’s be clear on the difference between blasphemy lite and the real thing.
[9] hmm… danger… brrr…