Sunday 20 December 2009

'pop' is the sound of S. Cowell's ego exploding

Even though this is a tempest in a tea-cup, I think it's one great slam-dunk in the face of manufactured culture.

The Business plan goes like this:

Simon Cowell starts a talent show.
Simon Cowell signs various of the 'artists' (see them in video1).
Simon Cowell gives the winner a song to sing, so that he/she/it can top the charts at Christmas, the biggest sales period.
Simon Cowell makes money from all of the above.
Simon Cowell 'owns' the Christmas number one, four years running. or should I say 'owned'?

UNTIL this year! It's been announced, a Facebook campaign to buy up Rage Against the Machine's single from 1992 (particularly for its anti-establishment content) has given the now defunct band the CHRISTMAS NUMBER ONE in the UK.

The music charts are of no consequence, especially in these serious times. Also, look at the 350 000 fools who actually bought Cowell's cowpatties at 4 quid each! Don't they have any brains? Aren't they sick of hearing the same old crap in a slightly different guise? Don't they feel manipulated?*

Being that Rage Against the Machine is a band which is much more interested in making people wise to our sick society than the average band, I think they were a good choice (I've named my other blog after one of their songs).

I was glad to see that the single 'Killing in the Name' was being sold for 30 pence, so as not to make much money for Sony. For their part, the band will donate the winnings to Shelter, which is a charity dedicated to providing housing for the poor, in the UK for example.

Which charities does the multi-millionnaire Cowell fund?
Here's the song, chock full of profanity directed at those who would control our behaviour (i.e. conning us into buying sh*tty records). I think that the song reacts to the politeness which is forced upon us every day and which makes us perfect victims for bosses, business and government.
"Fl%&*k you, I won't do what you tell me"
Karoake never felt so good!

-->the lip-sync version



--> the live, audience sing-along version


-Cos67 ~(%^D>
* The music business, far from being about the rebellion that it seems to represent, is all about Robin-Hood-in-reverse redistribution of wealth from the poor-and-stupid to the rich and musical. That's why I never pay full price for any music, preferring car boot sales and charity shop specials. Musicians don't need my help.

Saturday 19 December 2009

the school of iitchi & saatchi

Byline: School of Saatchi show helps Modernist art trip off its own plinth.

It's amazing how an innocent copy-cat show, feeding off the reality frenzy may actually lead to the art world getting back some semblance of balance between innovation and 'talent'.

If Modernist art is a reaction to the drudgery of old-fart art, like Monet and Manet,
then its driving force is certainly Mon-ey.
However, it has to articulate its raison d'etre, sooner or later. It cannot just be
'I hate that technically-brilliant sh*t'.

However, in this time of rampant bullsh*t in all spheres public, especially in nodes of power and money, modernist artists have avoided being pidgeon-holed themselves, probably because they can feel the rubber glove of shame passing nearby. However, there is a maxim in life that I live by:
As they shat on others, they too shall be shat upon.
It should be in the Bible.
They've pocketed a lot of money in a market driven by investment and investors, like Charles Saatchi. They made their field, their own mythology and their shit did not even stink. They knew that avoiding description was as important as avoiding death. I think these artists' luck is running out, though.

Once the rebels become the institution, then they're ready to get knocked off. Their egos and bank accounts are inflated, and their annihilation is coming, as others can start smelling blood.
I'll give you an example. It's been uncovered that the 'rampant sales figures' of Damien Hirst have been faked by his agent and a particular gallery, in order to keep his prices up.
[pics coming soon]
When British tv put on the School of Saatchi, they used some of the vilified installation artists, like Tracey Emin [pics soon] to judge and critique new, rising artists, and they put some necks in the guillotine, those of the installation artists. (I'll soon post some of the well-considered criticism later)
The basis of it is that when Emin says: "that's a piece of crap", she should know what she's talking about, having been the generator of so much of that sort of stuff herself.
When the chosen professional art critics asked the 'new' artists 'what's the thinking behind the art' before passing judgement on a piece, then they're saying that art is supposed to be an intellectualisation of the world not an expression of passion. In other words, it's not about art, but about 'me so crafty'. Therefore, because modern art now has a defineable belief system, it's a movement like any other, and a piss-poor one, at that.

I think it all started with a French artist's urinal (below). The piss receptacle was presented as art; not as form following function, which would have been more intelligent, just as a reaction to art that actually required talent, or the ability to actually make some handiwork. This guy just went to Plumbings R Us and asked for the ceramics department and then scribbled something on the stand-up unit, in marker. [this begs a feminist response: piddling standing up. Ever seen that at parties?]

-Cos67 ~(%^D>

UPDATE:
a writer named muema (see his explanation below in the 'comments') has advised me that the French artist was Marcel Duchamp .
I think he'll agree that what he said proved that modern/Modernist art is far too intellectual and they were more concerned about showing intellect rather than artistic ability or vision, or even passion. They're a bunch of cold fish.

ALSO: in looking for a pic of the Yur-I-nal (as it's pronounced over here) in question, I found this interesting explanation on found art: [comments- Cos67]
"In 1917, when Marcel Duchamp presented a urinal—which he had christened Fountain—as a signed piece of art, he was reacting to the horror of the First World War [ya! it's a Messerschmidt urinal. Get it?-xD Cos67] and the utter collapse of the gentlemanly notions of progress [urinal is better than piss-pot, you know? especially once it's been hooked up to the plumbing- Cos67], beauty and aesthetics that accompanied the slaughter of the generation. [Well, in that case, I hope he chose a used urinal, nice and stinky, with cigarette butts and gum in it. A soldier's skull with a helmet and cigarette would have worked better. or a akak gun shooting blood. -Cos67] Fountain was notorious, and the art world was aghast. Interpretations of Duchamp’s work, and the whole concept of found art, were flowing as freely as an overflowing toilet. But when is a urinal not a urinal? And if it isn’t a urinal, what the hell is it? Fountain was a symbol of ambiguity in very ambiguous times [nice piece of philosophical bullshit]; it is whatever the viewer’s reaction makes it. [How about that for arse-backwards. Now, instead of examining the art, you gotta spend more time examining your own feelings or looking at the people around you in the gallery. Sociopathic sh*t, man. -Cos67] That is the nature of found art."
[
otherwise known as 'look what the cat dragged in'-xD Cos67]
[Nick Mamatas on http://www.gadflyonline.com/10-08-01/art-devilphoto.html]

I still see this as a branch of realia, and not art.

I'm confused. Muema said it was a reaction against art critics! I think the common message to both warmongers and art critics is
"piss on yuz all!" or more simply, "piss off!".
It's the metaphorical equivalent of
the ancient British insult of throwing
the contents of a piss-pot on someone you hate.
The man is brilliant.

--> on http://www.artnewsblog.com/2004/12/duchamps-urinal.htm
e.g. "[Fountain, the] ready-made urinal has been voted the most influential work of art of all time by 500 art experts."

checkitout:
BBC documentary: The Quest for Beauty

Friday 4 December 2009

Venice mayor floods out the tourists


[pic- Turner]
The mayor of Venice has been on record saying that he wants day-tourists to get out of 'his' city.

In contrast, tourists want the pidgeons to get out of town, and for the penny-pinching mayor to get their guano off San Marco square.

They both got their wish recently, thanks to global warming, when the city was flooded.
[pic- ecoscraps.com]

This limited the tourists and cleaned up the god-awful aviary-refuse stench. Floor wax, anyone?

Note:
Did you know this city is actually an engineering freak show? Because the islands that make up Venice are little more than sand dunes, every building is ON STILTS. The fronts of buildings are facades which are separate from the rest of the box, so that both can move separately!

-Cos67 ~(%^D>

Wednesday 2 December 2009

pissing on war monument saves man's life

Byline: young British chap pisses on war memorial, gets arrested and is given community service order. He's REEEALLY sorry.

This event, though really crass, has saved this young fellow many times over.

Firstly, they've shown up a gap between the youth (who see war as an inevitable continuum of spilt blood) and old war-vets (who believe that dead soldiers protected us from danger) on the importance of war memorials. They're everywhere. The Europeans have fought so many stupid wars that perfectly good parkland and parking lots have been filled with ugly cement plinths.
Where's a guy supposed to have a slash in public?
You can't even swing a liquor bottle without hitting a gargoyled depiction of a victim of history.
[pic- ancient wars]
[pic- Vietnamese wars]
[pic- some statues make you feel like going wee-wee]
[pic- some statues even fight back]
Perhaps it's inevitable. Young man sees 'Leaking Lad' his whole life, and on one drunken evening, he acts out on his desire to have himself be immortalised, pissing.

Next, this young man learned that if you can't handle the notoriety, then don't do crazy sh*t in a country full of surveillance cameras and mobile phones. I thought he was going to ride his fame onto Big Brother, or X-Factor, the Jungle or some other Pissing Contest.

The event probably scared the guy off of doing anything outrageous, or even getting piss-drunk in public ever again. To your health, dude!

I think his pink underwear has outed the young man. I don't know which part of this story is going to freak his parents more. Now he doesn't have to go through the uncomfortable conversation where his parents have to stifle their disappointment, and he can make a clean break.

Lastly, a proctologist from the BMA has said that his weak urine stream is indicative of prostate trouble. He could be elligible for corrective surgery. He could then continue to piss happily for decades to come.

See? Sometimes the Lord works in mysterious ways.

-Cos67 ~(%^D>
pics -fotosearch.com