Ken Burns Hates Mexicans

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Crash from The Chicas Project.

Sir Douglas Quintet

This week on KenBurnsHatesMexicans is Texas Music Week, if for no other reason than a week ago I was in Texas. Expect a band a day, complete with YouTube clips, the accumulation of singers and guitar players and bands reflecting the diversity of music in the Lone Star Sate. This is, after all, a region that has produced groups as diverse as the Butthole Surfers, Sly Stone, Bob Wills, Scott Joplin, Little Joe y la Famlia, Buck Owens, Domingo Samudio (aka Sam the Sham of Woolly Bully fame, go here, be amazed) Janis Joplin, Johnny Mathis, Pantera, ZZ Top, Ornette Coleman, Beyonce, Mike Nesmith (of the Monkees), and Van Cliburn (moved to Ft. Worth when he was six), among many, many others. Talk about a melting pot. Talk about a Texas Jam.

First up is Doug Sahm, lead singer of the Sir Douglas Quintet, solo artist, and a founding member of the Texas Tornados. Doug was born in San Antonio, was a child country music prodigy, played with Hank Williams, released an album, and performed at the Grand Ole Opry, all while still in Jr. High School. By the time Sahm formed the Sir Douglas Quintet in 1965 at the age of 24, he was already a seasoned musician and had, thankfully, discovered rock and roll.

By the mid 60s the British Invasion was in full swing. Bands like the Beatles and the Kinks dominated the American charts. Taking the oh so posh name of the Sir Douglas Quintet, dressing in Edwardian jackets, and growing their hair long and foppish a la Brian Jones of the Rolling Stones, the scrappy band from Texas tried to pass themselves off as English. Not sure how the duo of dark skinned Chicanos in the band's lineup contributed to the ruse. Not to mention the group's distinctive Tex Mex sound. But, oh well, the Sir Douglas Quintet kicked ass.

Here's the band performing their hit She's About a Mover on the Hullaboo TV show (with an intro by fellow Texan Trini Lopez, of If I Had a Hammer fame). She's about a Mover was Number 1 on Texas Monthly's list of The 100 Best Texas Songs and is one of my favorite songs of all time. From the mag's apt description:

If anything, the song sounds more audacious now than it did when it first shot to number thirteen on the national charts in 1965, at the height of the British Invasion. First, you've got that two-step rhythm—always common in regional Tex-Mex, country, and Cajun-zydeco but not in rock and roll, not then or now. Then you've got those maniacal dit-dit-dit-dits from organ jockey Augie Meyers; he claims he owned the first Vox in the nation, which supposedly provided the English vibe, but the way he used it mainly served to make a direct connection with Tex-Mex accordion. Finally, there's Doug Sahm's great, and always underappreciated, rock vocals—hard and fast, with a Little Richard-like intensity, but also still melodic—and his delightfully cockeyed lyrics and title...the song endures. And the reason is that sound. You could say that it couldn't possibly have come from nowhar else but Texas, but even that's a little vague; "She's About a Mover" couldn't possibly have come from nowhere else but San Antone.

But to truly appreciate the cross cultural Tex Mex onda of the band, check out this clip of Sir Douglas performing Nuevo Laredo. Amazing song and an amazing video with juicy historical details in the clothes, dance steps, and attitude. By around the time of this performance Doug had moved to San Francisco, grew his hair long like a hippie, and in the process makes the case as the true missing link between 60s rock and the legendary Cosmic Cowboy counterculture craze (Willie Nelson, Jerry Jeff Walker, et al) who would all emerge out of Austin in a few years.

Post Sir Douglas, Sahm went on to a solo career, where among other accomplishments the gringo from San Anto wrote the movimiento anthem Soy Chicano. Go figure. And go here to see Rumel Fuentes y los Pinguinos del Norte perform the movement classic (dale chine!). And of course Sahm's more recent stint with the Texas Tornadoes is probably what he's best known for today. Doug died in 1999. He was a badass.

Kill the Pachuco Bastards

Cheech Marin waxes on art and aesthetics on NPR today. Go here to listen to Cheech talk about artist Vincent Valdez's painting, Kill the Pachuco Bastards, Vince's powerful depiction of the infamous Zoot Suit riots. Click on the photo to enlarge. (Valdez is a fellow San Antonion, also self-exiled in L.A., also wondering, every morning, why the hell doesn't anyone make breakfast tacos here. Oh well, the Double Doubles at In-N-Out almost make up for it. Almost.)

Thanks to El Rio for the photo.

Catching Up...

Last night of my five day trip to San Antonio. Artpace video shoot went well. Got to film an AK 47 riddling a black suburban with bullet holes. That's always fun. Weather wise, actually enjoyed the Hot Texas summer days. Probably because of the many gallons of Bill Miller sweetened iced tea consumed and purchased at various drive-thrus strategically placed all over town. Other activities included shooting interviews with Girl in a Coma before their mini West Coast tour, which includes two dates in Cyndi Lauper's True Colors concerts. (The Girls will be recording a new album in August. I'll be there filming a "making of" documentary.) And finally, won't bore you with stores of a location scout at an abandoned insane asylum, but as a future project develops entertaining details to follow.

Back in L.A. tomorrow along with daily KenBurns blog entries. But I leave you with a clip from a TV show I just discovered the other day, Ninja Warrior, my new favorite appointment television. And for more Ninja Warror clips go here to see 57 year old Minori Kimgochi, AKA 'the Octopus", finally clear the first stage after five tries only to fail at the dreaded butterfly wall; go here to the craziest competitors; and here to see the enigmatic Ayako Miyake, the first women's champion of Ninja Warrior.

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Ruben Ortiz's much-anticipated customized scissor lift is finally functional. Go here to see some early tests of the kinetic sculpture, and here for pics from last week's debut at San Jose's MACLA art space.

He Got Game

Ok. Mea culpa time. Admittedly, I was more than eager to take perverse delight in the Los Angeles Laker's embarrassing, 39 point, near record-setting loss to the Boston Celtics the other night in the final game of the NBA finals. Videos. Quotes. Sad pictures of the purple and gold clad losers. But it was too easy. I mean, how much more schadenfreude can one indulge in given Kobe and company's historic meltdown. Instead, I will let the record -- not to mention watching the smarmy grin of Phil Jackson erased off homeboy's bewildered face over four delicious quarters -- speak for itself. Let me go positive instead and wax poetic about Celtic guard Ray Allen, who hit 7 three pointers in the game and set an NBA Finals record.

The best part of the watching the Finals was witnessing veteran NBA players Paul Pierce, Keven Garnett, and Allen finally winning a championship. The good guys, at last, prevailing. Plus Allen's tie to contemporary Latino culture? Made today's musings even more relevant, KenBurnsHatesMexicans-wise. Allen, if you remember from an earlier post, was the guy Spurs guard Bruce Bowen called guey on national TV.

My first real glimpse of Allen intersects with my other fave obsession -- besides, of course, the NBA, Robert Frank, and rock and roll -- filmmaking. Allen starred in Spike Lee's 1998 He Got Game, where Allen played High School basketball phenom Jesus Shuttlesworth. Say what you will about Lee's admittedly messy film, crammed as it is with ideas about father-son relationships, interracial dating, and college recruiting scandals, among many other worthy topics. But the best part of the movie is Lee's choice of two diametrically opposing American musicians for the movie's soundtrack: 40s era classical composer Aaron Copland and the hip hop group Public Enemy. And it worked. Both thematically and on an entertainment level. Back in my movie critic days at the San Francisco Bay Guardian, I chose He Got Game as one of the best films of 1998. From my blurb on the movie from way back in the day...

Spike Lee’s inner city morality tale brims with the filmmaker's usual visual exhuberance, an aficionado’s detailed knowledge of the sport, and a critical understanding of how it all matters re: U.S. race relations circa 1998. Subversive as ever, Spike audatiously borrows the ur-American symphonic music of Jewish composer Aaron Copland in the film’s musical score. A choice especially effective in the film’s stirring five on five pick-up game sequence where strong, young black men glide up and down the full length asphalt court to the rousing and familiar strains of Copland’s “Hoedown”. The synthesis of sport and music becomes an Air Jordan version of creative physicality transforming what it means to “dance,” and what it means to be an American artist. In an era of vapid movies like Booty Call, and one-dimensional "stars" like Jim Carrey, it’s a national shame that Spike Lee, America’s most consistently challenging and provocative cinematic voice, is listened to less and less.

Back then, only ten short years ago, YouTube, of course, didn't exist. Now, all you gotta do is type, search, and voila...instant film class.

While the above clip of the pickup game works much better on a 52 inch flatscreen with surround sound, Lee's use of another Copland score in the films opening credits, works its cinematic power even in its dinky internet version. Check it out...from Iowa cornfields to innercity lots, kids across the country unified in their love for the game.

And finally, I save the best for last. PE's amazing title track song for the movie. Sampling Buffalo Springfield's 1967 anti-Vietnam song For What It's Worth (click here to hear, highly recommended), Chuck D puts his own spin on the classic. Enjoy...

(Oh, and for those fans of 70s english prog rock group Emerson, Lake and Palmer out there -- me, I love 'em! -- here's the band's own Moog synthesized version of Copland's Hoedown.

I'm in San Antonio for five days working on a video for Artpace with Mexican artist Marcos Ramirez. Details later. But it involves a black SUV, shooting an AK 47, and narco corridos. Should be fun. Blogging will be sporadic til tuesday.)

Don't Blame Me, I'm Exiled in L.A...

I'm from Texas. Proud land of Emma Tenayuca, Barbara Jordan, Buddy Holly, Americo Paredes, Rick Linklater, Chingo Bling, the Raza Unida Party, and puffy tacos. All badass. All Texan.

But like my fellow Tejanos, the Dixie Chicks, sometimes I'm ashamed of my state. (And no I'm not taking about Marc Cuban and the Dallas Mavericks.) This button was on for sale at the GOP state convention this weekend.

From the Dallas Morning News...

While a number of speakers -- such as Railroad Commission chairman Michael Williams and Mike Huckabee -- have praised the advance of Barack Obama and what it means towards a colorblind society, at least one vendor hasn't gotten the message.

At the Republican state convention, a booth hosted by Republicanmarket was selling a pin Saturday that says: If Obama is President will we still call it the White House.

There were other pins that weren't necessarily conveying the positive, inclusive, united front that has been portrayed during the convention. One said, "Press 1 for English. Press 2 for Deportation" and another, "I will hold my nose when I vote for McCain"

It's going to be a long and dirty election ahead of us. Thanks to Talking Points Memo for the link.

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Big Muff 101

In commemoration of the 20th anniversary release of Mudhoney's 1998 Sub Pop EP, Superfuzz Bigmuff, the proto-grundge rockers are releasing a special CD Deluxe Edition of their seminal record. The EP's title combines the names of two of the band's fave effects pedals, the Super Fuzz and Big Muff, devices guitar players use to modify their instrument's sound. And, oh, how badass the results can be! Early users of the 70s era Big Muff include Carlos Santana, Mark Farner of Grand Funk Railroad, and David Gilmour from Pink Floyd (deconstruction of Dave's sound here). Contemporary practitioners of the distinct sound include Jack White of the White Stripes, the Smashing Pumpkins, and a personal favorite band of KenBurnsHatesMexicans, Aussie rockers Wolfmother (see amazing video here.) But I leave you with a demonstration of the pedal at work.

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Here's the new Joan Jett Signature Melody Maker Guitar by Gibson. Other rock notables in the Signature series include AC/DC's Angus Young, Black Sabbath's Tommy Iommi, Aerosmith's Joe Perry, and Slash from Guns and Roses. Joan is the first women guitar player in the Signature series.

The Melody Maker has been manufactured on and off since 1959 as a budget, "beginners" guitar. Affordable. Mass produced. Functional till virtuosity was attained and, then, perhaps, the purchase of a more expensive, "professional" Les Paul. Joan Jett, on the other hand, kept her Melody Maker. Still plays it to this day. And she hasn't, apparently, forgotten her working class roots. Slash et al Signature guitars go for around 2 to 4 thousand dollars. Joan's sells for a little over 800 bucks. From the Gibson press release:

“I got my Melody Maker in 1977,” the legendary Joan Jett says about the guitar she has made one of the most iconic instruments in rock and roll. “It was light and it sounded great. It was the guitar I had in the Runaways and then played on all my hits, like ‘I Love Rock N’ Roll’ and ‘Bad Reputation’ and ‘Do You Wanna Touch Me.’ It’s my baby.”

Among other famous guitarists known to use a Melody Maker are Mick Jones of the Clash and Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones. Shots of Joan and her pristine Melody Maker here, and, years later, the banged up, sticker-adorned version here. Rock on.

Happy Birthday Kanye West

The beginning of the end of the Bush presidency.

Via Crooks and Liars.

Video of the Day

Last September Girl in a Coma performed a special, once-only set of Mexican rock songs from the 1960s at LA's Ford Theater. It was an extraordinary night where the band explored some old school rock and roll and even discovered a song that they enjoyed so much -- Ven Cerca (must-see live studio video here) -- that it's going to end up on their new album.

Previously, you could only relive the night via this podcast, but of course, inevitably, three of the songs have been uploaded to YouTube. Go here to see the band's cover of Richie Valen's We Belong Together and here for their version of Sueño de Amor from the Ford show. But I leave you not only with GIAC's interpretation of Los Hooligans Despeinada from that night but a clip of the OG Mexican band playing their original, circa 1962.(More Hooligans here.) Enjoy.

Oh, and you're hearing this news first...I'll be shooting a new music video for Girl In a Coma in a few weeks back home in San Antonio. Their Cell. (Video of the band performing it at South Park Mall [!] here) It's the very badass song I've been waiting to shoot since I met the band. Details in the weeks to come.

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Forty years ago today.

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Same As It Ever Was #103

Sex in the City beat out Indiana Jones for biggest movie in America this past weekend. $55 million, 85% of the ticket buyers female. Apparently the big numbers took Hollywood execs by surprise. Interesting post over at Vulture, which not only analyzes the industry's reluctance to acknowledge women as a valued market, but pronounces Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte as Superheroes (because they protect each other from bad men.) Clever...

Hollywood's mystified response to Sex and the City's $55 million opening weekend — who knew women liked to see movies with their friends? — proves once again that despite being more than half the population, women are still a niche market in the movie business. After helpfully identifying which moviegoers contributed to SATC's success ("women"), bewildered Hollywood number-counter Paul Dergarabedian added, "This was to women what Indiana Jones and Star Wars, let's say, are to men." The only people who aren't surprised at SATC's summer-blockbuster numbers are women.

Still -- Superheros they may be -- but Carrie & Company's Marvel Universe of New York City has always been pretty much white, devoid of brown people, in no way even a meek reflection of the city's actual cultural and ethnic diversity. Apparently (I have yet to see the movie -- and, yes, I'm gonna -- I'm a big fan of the so-called, much maligned chick flick) the film version of SATC attempts to rectify the retro gringo TV fantasy with the best way Hollywood knows how: the sassy black girlfriend. As posted in the Root...

After six seasons, a couple of power lesbians, a naked Blair Underwood, contract negotiations, false starts and four years of abstinence, the city will finally get some color in the full-figured form of Jennifer Hudson.

The 26-year-old Oscar winner will play a new character—little Louise from St. Louis, Carrie's "young and inexperienced, but still label-savvy assistant." Booooo!

All Sex and the City evangelists know there is one fatal flaw with the show that launched the sale of a thousand Manolos; The New York City that HBO gave us was monochromatic, lily white. Unless you count bright spots with Miranda's former lovah Dr. Robert Leeds (Blair Underwood) and a few lipstick lesbians who showed Charlotte a good time in season two, SATC has never been the place to seek affirmative action in bed.

The black best friend, of course, nothing new. And, as always, serving a particular servile function, with no agency all their own, not to mention an individual storyline. As The Root continues in their blog...

Still, Hudson's character, though fresh-faced, unexpected and significant, appears to be fairly predictable. Louise, with her curly black 'do and dizzy plaid boots, has a specific function in the film—helping Carrie get her crap together after a bad break up. Basically she is the perfect pocket life coach.

Again, nothing new. Referenced in the Root post is this must-read LA Times article from last year by Gregg Braxton, which delves deeper into the Black Best Friend. Braxton describes the phenom as a second banana character "played by an African American actress whose character’s principal function is to support the heroine, often with sass, attitude and a keen insight into relationships and life." This would be comical if it wasn't so sad. Again, from Braxton's piece...

But on a more serious note, the trend of BBFs underscores the limitations that African American actresses still face more than five years after Halle Berry's Oscar-winning performance as best actress in a leading role for “Monster’s Ball.” Despite impressive r�sum�s, solid credentials and successful achievements, many of the black actresses who have played BBFs are rarely offered the heroine role in mainstream projects. Not one black actress will star in a prime-time series on the four major networks this fall season.

And, as has been long lamented, lead roles in films are few and far between.

Over on the Latina front, all things representational aren't any better. Actually, they're worse. At least black actresses get parts in movies. Brown people can't even get them made.

Writer Alicia Valdes-Rodriguez, for example, has been trying to get her book The Dirty Girl's Social Club made into a Hollywood movie. Her script of her novel was sent by her producers to all the major studios. All of them passed on the project. And she has a few opinions of why it happened. In the latest of her series of video posts updating her fans on the project's development, Valdes-Rodriguez blames ignorance by "the studio execs" (read "rich white guys") on their lack of interest in the project. Seems the myopic bastards were put off with what Valdes-Rodriguez claims are her complex Latina characters (read "latinas who are not maids.") The execs, apparently, could not read them as "real latinas." Whatever that means.

It's a seven minute semi-rant, not without its salient points. See video here. And I was with V-R on more than a few of her arguments until homegirl touted Greg Nava's recent straight-to-video mess movie Borderland as "great." An example of a model Hollywood Latino project? A movie brown filmmakers should aspire to emulate? Hm. I rented Borderland. And it was bad. Nothing more than the corny Nava cinematic aesthetic coupled with a self-indulgent, self-congratulatory, exploitive J Lo star vehicle draped over the real horrors of the murders of the young women of Juarez. Not to mention its meandering and confusing plot and bad "noble" acting. If this is the epitome of Brown Film give me Cheech and Chong any day.

Perhaps -- and this doesn't necessarily apply to Dirty Girls Social Club (I haven't read it, nor have I read the screenplay) -- but perhaps Hollywood is turning down Latino scripts because they are just not good. Granted, a legitimate complaint on a double standard can be made given Hollywood's daily greenlighting of bad white movies, but I'd like to think our standards should be higher than, say, the latest Adam Sandler movie. I'm just sayin'.

Apologies for the long post. But if you've read this far I'm sure you won't mind a last couple of paragraphs, especially if its an example of some good writing, a welcome palate-cleansing change of pace after the Greg Nava bad moviemaking detour. Again, from the Vulture post, about the the Sex in the City girls as Superheroes, and the double standard applied to chick flicks...

Superheroes exist outside the laws and boundaries the rest of us have to abide by; while men want to see themselves flying and fighting, women are more interested in pushing other limits. How old can you be and still be hot? How many times can you break up and still be in love with someone? How many hours of the day can four working women conceivably spend together?

Pointing out that Carrie could never afford her apartment, let alone her wardrobe, is about as useful as questioning Robert Downey Jr.'s ability to create cold fusion in a cave in Afghanistan — it misses the point of the movie entirely. Why is it okay for Iron Man to collect expensive cars but materialistic for Carrie to collect shoes? Surely her carbon footprint is the smaller of the two. Politely, we don't ask what the Hulk says about American men and their relationship to rage, so why should we tolerate attacks on Samantha's legendary libido? Sam Jones is no more a real cougar than Dr. Jones is a real archaeologist, but they're both good summer fun. So wise up, Hollywood, and start giving us some more female superheroes. And please, take a hint from Sex and the City, and dress them in Vivienne Westwood, not vinyl.

As Stan "the Man" Lee would put it, "'Nuff said."

Paragraph of the Day

I hate the so-called rock band Journey almost as much as I admire good writing. Imagine my dilemma as I came across this snappy piece of rock criticism about the so-called Bay Area band -- a musical group once aptly described by Rolling Stones writer Dave Marsh as a "dead end" for San Francisco rock. As you can see, my admiration for a well-turned phrase won out. From today's New York Times...

From the late 1970s to the mid-’80s, Journey’s hits were lavish pop bulletins conjuring amber waves of strip malls. Its melodies resolved quickly over four-four grooves, and the band didn’t indulge much in suite form or rarefied instrumental interludes. Neal Schon was its front-and-center guitar player, bending notes into parabolas as big and sexy as rainbows. Steve Perry was its great theatrical tenor, hitting high notes with a likably strained, through-the-noise voice and Sam Cooke-type embellishments. Once it refined its formula, Journey was pure suburban-teen romantic inspiration. By contrast, Boston sounded more street and more mystical; Styx and Kansas were Trig 1 and 2.

But wait there's more. A chief reason for my Journey loathing was front man Steve Perry. Not only did Perry's screeching tenor grate on my nerves, but what was up with that perpetually stringy hairdo? Anyway, seems Perry is gone now and has been replaced by, get this, a 40 year old man from the Phillipines who was discovered via a YouTube clip. Now that is very badass. Don't stop believing, indeed.

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Another Chicano makes it on a U.S. stamp. For more info on the great Ruben Salazar go here, here, and here.

A bit of news...

Been getting an uptick in hits the past couple of days because of a link over at LA Observed. They've posted that the fine folks over at Tu Ciudad have singled out KenBurnsHatesMexicans.com as best blog in the mag's annual Best of L.A. list. Muchos thanks...but if this is an evil plot to make me a Lakers fan it ain't gonna work. Despite what happened last night Spurs por vida. But I appreciate the nod. Again, gracias.

Jailbird

Some months back I posted a crazy YouTube video of So Cal graffiti artist Buket inching his way across an freeway overpass on the 101 as cars zoomed dangerously beneath him. Well, it seems that video, as well as this one depicting Buket tagging a bus in broad daylight, as passersby watch, did him in. As this LA Times piece reports, homeboy, a 24-year-old San Jose State University graduate with a degree in art, was finally arrested. Here's the infamous YouTube video once again...

We Wuz Robbed!

Given the likely outcome of tonight's NBA Western Conference game, this may be the last Spurs post of the season. But for those of you convinced the powers-that-be -- eager for the high TV ratings generated by a Lakerr-Celtics Finals series, and have conspired to keep the little-market team out of the Finals -- you are not alone in your suspicions, as evident here, here, here, and even an admission in the LA Times here. So add this as another bullet point in my list of reasons why Latinos should root for the Spurs: the Man once again has brought us down. The only saving grace? Should the Lakers win it all, at least the NBA Championship Trophy will remain in Azltan.

Weekend in New York

Visited New York last weekend for a real live rock and roll wedding. Can't mention the guest list (they really will kill me), but at the reception, not only did I get to see Girl in a Coma perform two badass new songs for their upcoming CD (look for its release next year), but Joan Jett and the Blackhearts also jammed on a couple of songs. Among her highlights was the 1976 Runaways hit Cherry Bomb (Jett's first band; her version of the song here). Fun night, free booze, sushi and tasty roast beef, stood literally ten feet from a legend as she sang and played guitar. That was the good part of the weekend.Then I went to the Whitney to see the Biennial. And it kinda sucked.

Here's a typical review of the art show from the New York Times:

Past biennials have had a festive, party-time air...The 2008 edition is, by contrast, an unglamorous, even prosaic affair. The installation is plain and focused..The catalog is modest in design, with a long, idea-filled essay by Ms. Momin, hard-working, but with hardly a stylistic grace note in sight. A lot of the art is like this too: uncharismatic surfaces, complicated back stories.

Yeah, what he said. Other reviews and reviews were similar in their opinion. Some others, not so much, yet tepidly so. Good news, for raza at least, is none of the Latino artists -- Mario Ybarra, Daniel Martinez, and Ruben Ochoa -- were not singled out for banality and/or incomprehension.

But as for myself the video work was kinda badass. In particular, the installation by Israeli-American artist Omer Fast (see an essay on Fast here, where it describes an early piece of Fast's where he rented Arnold Schwarteneggar's Terminator video from various rental stores around NYC, and inserted his own footage: "As the Terminator pulls the trigger on a victim, a male voice-over suddenly interrupts the scene with a recollection of being disciplined as a child by his father: 'He slapped me. And then he slapped me again and again.' I love it. While transforming the blockbuster film into a public archive for private memories, the parasitic narrative frustrates both the hero's actions and the viewer's pleasure.)

In his Whitney piece Fast did this four channel installation where you'd walk into a room, see these two hanging screens and hear a U.S. soldier tell two stories as you see the narratives recreated with these surreal tableaus: story 1, about this crazy date he had with a woman while stationed in Germany, and story 2 a more sobering account about the day he killed an innocent Iraqi during a confusing roadside confrontation during the war. Fast intercut the two stories in a seamless single narrative that in itself would have been an amazing piece. But as you got used to the darkness of the room you realized the video screens were suspended, and you could walk behind them. On that side you saw the same screens but now watched the U.S. soldier's face as he's being interviewed PBS style, and on the other screen Fast himself, asking the questions. It was a great piece that really had me thinking about storytelling, how it can be manipulated for various emotional effects, how editing can transform intent, and finally about the artifice of the endeavor. Here a video of the piece. Hopefully it will make better sense than my words can do...

Kobe v. Tim

Game 4 tonight in San Antonio. Spurs down 2 games to 1 to the hated Lakers. I will refrain from too much L.A. trash talking on KenBurns since the bulk of my blog readers hail from So Cal. (Gracias, by the way. And for the record, I do love the Dodgers.) But I did come across this old Sprite commercial years back where a crew of horrible rappers led by Kobe go toe to toe with an equally terrible rapping crew led by Spurs forward Tim Duncan.

Sprite - Kobe Bryant and Tim Duncan - 1998
by GarfieldFan2000

Blame the Wetbacks

Not that anti-immigrant hysteria in the media is anything new, but it's sobering, sometimes, to see the venom edited into one three minute clip.

Game 1

This Day in Rock History

Happy birthday Joey Ramone, father of punk rock, and Pete Townshend, lead guitar player for the Who and inventor of the Marshall Stack. Joey would have been 57 today. Townshend turns 63. Here's a video of the Ramones going political with "My Brain is Hanging Upside Down (Bonzo Goes to Bitburg)," their protest song railing against Ronald Regan's controversial visit to a Nazi cemetery in 1985. And check out Joey singing Louis Armstrong's "It's a Wonderful World" and go here for a 1992 interview.

Clip 2 is the Who from around 1965 with their mod classic "I Can't Explain." I love this song, proto punk for days. No wonder the Clash ripped off the guitar riff for "Guns on the Roof." Steal from the best. But for a more representative demonstration of Townshend's patented windmill guitar strumming (not to mention some amazing shots of Keith Moon, rock's greatest drummer) go here, and a live version of "The Seeker," best known today as the song used in the opening of Steven Soderbergh's The Limey.

Another Secret History

Carolina Gonzales from the very fine Soundtaste blog posted an interesting story in the context of the California Supreme Court's decision this week to allow gay marriages. Another Secret History, and another example of my theory that if you throw a rock at most any historical social and/or political event in U.S. history and you'll hit a brown person. Carolina's post is too delicious not to post in its entirety:

I have to admit, I only read the headlines in California's Supreme Court gay marriage decision this week.

So I did not notice the revealing tidbit that Gary Dauphin footnoted a couple of days ago: the Supremes' decision was largely based on the 1948 case Perez v. Sharp, which challenged interracial marriage bans way before Loving v. Virgina (1967) and involved a Mexican American woman and a Black man.

The reason the couple was denied a wedding license and the case went to court was that Andrea Perez was considered "white." Gary posted her picture. I'm re-posting it here. If she's white, I'm downright Aryan.

Like Mendez v. Westminster, the anti-school desegregation case that predated Brown v. Board of Ed by almost a decade, Perez v. Sharp was also a key precedent-setter with Latino plaintiffs that crowbarred the door open to extend fundamental civil rights to others.

Gary argues that it's no coincidence that this case (I would argue both cases) took place in the other state I consider home, California. This supports Roberto Lovato's theory that California is ground zero for Latino-led radical social change in this country.

Yet another instance in which we are erased from the history of fighting for American civil rights, human rights. Been here all along, time to make sure others notice.

And while we're on the subject of law and order let's not forget the equally precedent-setting case of Hernandez v. Texas, a 1954 case argued before the Supreme Court by Gus Garcia, which decided that Mexican Americans and other racial groups had equal protection under the 14th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution. Garcia's argument was considered by Chief Justice Earl Warren one of the best ever presented before the court. Of course it's been lost. Oh well.

I have to admit, I only read the headlines in California's Supreme Court gay marriage decision this week.

So I did not notice the revealing tidbit that Gary Dauphin footnoted a couple of days ago: the Supremes' decision was largely based on the 1948 case Perez v. Sharp, which challenged interracial marriage bans way before Loving v. Virgina (1967) and involved a Mexican American woman and a Black man.

The reason the couple was denied a wedding license and the case went to court was that Andrea Perez was considered "white." Gary posted her picture. I'm re-posting it here. If she's white, I'm downright Aryan.

Like Mendez v. Westminster, the anti-school desegregation case that predated Brown v. Board of Ed by almost a decade, Perez v. Sharp was also a key precedent-setter with Latino plaintiffs that crowbarred the door open to extend fundamental civil rights to others.

Gary argues that it's no coincidence that this case (I would argue both cases) took place in the other state I consider home, California. This supports Roberto Lovato's theory that California is ground zero for Latino-led radical social change in this country.

Yet another instance in which we are erased from the history of fighting for American civil rights, human rights. Been here all along, time to make sure others notice.

Burn Baby Burn

Apologies not only for the repeat of this image, but its triple duplication. But the Spurs are down 3-2 in their NBA series with the New Orleans Hornets and face playoff elimination tonight. Lighting the virtual vela helped for Game 3. Let's do a multiple lighting today, gente, for added and much needed luck. Copy, paste, and forward at will. Go Espurs Go.

Damn Those Multiculturists!

Pre-John McCain, during those wacky Giuliani/Romney/Tom Tancredo Blame Jose, Sanctuary City days, the anti-immigrant rhetoric of the Republican presidential primary led many of us to believe that the scapegoating of undocumented workers would become a daily talking point of the 2008 campaign. But as even this Wall Stree Journal op-ed by Jason L. Riley reports "the issue seems to have faded, if not disappeared entirely." So far. We'll see.

McCain's recent jettison of once-core beliefs in his quest to be President would be laughable if it wasn't so pathetic and sad. The once strict anti-torture dude now OKs waterboarding. He used to call Jerry Falwell and his ilk agents of intolerance. Homeboy now welcomes their endorsements. The day John McCain advocates building a bigger wall is not far off.

But back to the WSJ op-ed and its "reasoned" tone of how Americans actually don't want to send immigrants back -- at least not those who have properly assimilated. (The big question, of course, is what does one mean by "assimilation." Some say it's Latinos speaking English. I suggest it's Hillary speaking in guacamole metaphors and eating at King Taco, not to mention Spanish language TV dominating the ratings and gringo kids watching Dora the Explorer. Assimilation, wonderfully, is a two-way street.) Equating assimilation with English language proficiency, however, is the particular narrow metric the WSJ piece argues today.

The historical pattern is as follows: The first generation learns enough English to get by but prefers the mother tongue. The children of immigrants born here grow up in homes where they understand the mother tongue to some extent and may speak it, but they prefer English. When those children become adults, they establish homes where English is the dominant language.

There's every indication that Latinos are following this pattern. According to 2005 Census data, just one-third of Latino immigrants in the country for less than a decade speak English well. But that proportion climbs to 75% for those here 30 years or more. There may be more bilingualism today among their children, but there's no evidence that Spanish is the dominant language in the second generation. The 2000 Census found that 91% of the children of immigrants, and 97% of the grandchildren, spoke English well.

Nothing to dispute with these facts and figures. Especially when they explain how my 4th Gen Chicano ass has trouble with future perfect tense conjugation of certain Spanish verbs and always mispronouncing Tenochtitlan. But Riley doesn't stop there. Apparently American culture is under attack and it's not the homies looking for jobs at Home Depot parking lots doing the damage.

If American culture is under assault today, it's not from immigrants who aren't assimilating but from liberal elites who reject the concept of assimilation. For multiculturalists, and particularly those in the academy, assimilation is a dirty word. A values-neutral belief system is embraced by some to avoid having to judge one culture as superior or inferior to another. Others reject the assimilationist paradigm outright on the grounds that the U.S. hasn't always lived up to its ideals. America slaughtered Indians and enslaved blacks, goes the argument, and this wicked history means we have no right to impose a value system on others.

Believe me, I have many issues with white liberal elites (see Ken Burns) but a made up aversion to assimilation is not one of them. In any case, Riley advises his fellow right wingers that their hatred of Mexicans is misplaced:

Social conservatives who want to seal the border in response to these left-wing elites are directing their wrath at the wrong people. The problem isn't the immigrants. The problem is the militant multiculturalists who want to turn America into some loose federation of ethnic and racial groups. The political right should continue to push back against bilingual education advocates, anti-American Chicano Studies professors, Spanish-language ballots, ethnically gerrymandered voting districts, La Raza's big-government agenda and all the rest. But these problems weren't created by the women burping our babies and changing linen at our hotels, or by the men picking lettuce in Yuma and building homes in Iowa City.

Keep the immigrants. Deport the Columbia faculty.

And, apparently, all will be right in the US of A: docile maids will continue to clean bedrooms, gardeners will keep trimming trees, and the pesky new immigrants won't be be speaking English for at least thirty more years. Much too long to tell Mr. Riley that his jiu jitsu attempt at appearing to critique nativist idiots all the while embodying their condescending attitudes toward brown people won't go unnoticed.

Phantom Crushes

Happy birthday Sofia Coppola. Here is a deconstruction of the last scene from her film Lost in Translation.

First Lines

La Bloga has just posted an interesting piece: the opening lines from a series of famous -- and not so famous -- books by Latinos. The usual suspects are, of course, represented -- Sandra Cisneros, John Rechy, Cristina García -- but this opening line from first time novelist Mario Acevedo really stood out.

I don't like what Operation Iraqi Freedom has done to me. I went to the war a soldier; I came back a vampire. -- The Nymphos of Rocky Flats by Mario Acevedo.

The book's synopsis mentions government conspiracies, Roswell, trained assassins, and "an outbreak of nymphomania among female guards at a plutonium processing plant in Colorado." Not your run of the mill Chicano literature with this one. I'm ordering this book as we speak.

Video of the Day

L.A.'s very own No Age has a new CD out, 'Nouns,' (Pitchfork rave here), the band's debut album for the storied Subpop record label. Heard the single this weekend on Indie 103.1 in the best way possible -- driving around, listening to the radio, and discovering by chance a new fave rock and roll song. Old school for days. I love my Mp3s and MySpacing new bands but there's something to be said for old fashioned radio radio. And speaking of "old fashioned," I leave you with this YouTube clip from the band's 2007 Weirdo Rippers CD. Talk about a "distortingly beautiful" sound and some old school visual aesthetics:  random digital pics of friends, a good hook to edit them to, and voila! A great music video.