RIP Lee Hazlewood 1929-2007: Make the Little Flowers Grow

Lee Hazlewood passed away on August 4th 2007. Although he is primarily known for his work with Nancy Sinatra (including the writing and recording of the oft covered "These Boots Are Made for Walkin'") and rockabilly icon Duane Eddy, Lee's solo material which combined elements of country, pop and psychedelia had a cult following amongst fellow musicians, as evidenced by covers performed by the likes of Primal Scream, Lydia Lunch, Nick Cave, Megadeth, My Dying Bride and Boyd Rice. He is survived by his wife Jean and his children Mark, Debbie and Samantha.



Einstürzende Neubauten - Sand
Slowdive - Some Velvet Morning
Snog - Make the Little Flowers Grow

There's an excellent overview of Hazlewood's career as a producer and songwriter with iTunes links over at Status Ain't Hood . Make sure you check it out.

"Please rise for the deconstruction of our national anthem."

Yesterday's post by Alex on the new Laibach record got me thinking about the specfics of why Laibach's program of political satire works so well. To start with a quick nit-pick: I wouldn't say that Laibach's aesthetic is rooted in fascist imagery and music so much as it is rooted in totalitarian tropes. There's a black political humour that only comes from having one's tiny eastern European nation repeatedly steamrolled by harsh regimes from east and west, from right and left.

Anyhow, to my mind, it's pithy responses like "we are fascists as much as Hitler was a painter" that confirm Laibach as brilliant satirists. Truly committed conceptual artists (like, say, Andy Kaufman) never give the gambit away, because satire, unlike many "lower" forms of humour, requires some knowledgeable familiarity and conscious engagement with the material being satirized (as well as the formal elements of that satirization) on the part of the audience. On a side note, this is why I'd never be gutsy enough to say that any material of Laibach's wasn't conceptual. A song that they played at their last Vancouver concert sounded like a typically oontzy track in the "WAT" style until a friend from the former Yugoslavia approached me, laughing and explaining that the lyrics were from a folk song sung more than a century ago by Serbs as they were crossing a particular river, preparing to kill Croats. Or possibly vice versa. One way or the other, I didn't get the reference, nor why it would incite laughter per se. In short, my friend had the cultural language required to enter into the satire, unlike myself.

Confusion is Laibach's bread and butter: they bank on it. It's because they only muddy waters further when asked to clarify (at least for that AMG goober) that they are of such a higher calibre than all of those neo-folk ponces who run around wearing the runes and emblems of other cultures without any regard for their connotation and then explode into "defenceless artist" histrionics when anyone questions them. Blah, I don't want to get into all this again.

A point more salient to "Volk" - I think it's fair to say that their project on this record is a complete inversion of one of their most tried and true schticks: their remakes of pop songs which transform often trite original material into frighteningly epic anthems. There are a couple of interesting theories as to the nature of their intent in turning a goofy, touchy-feely song like "I've Got A Feeling" into Nuremburg rally call-and-response, or a song as lazy and crappy as "Live is Life" into a towering monument of glory (but to what?): they could be simply pointing out that aesthetics are substance, that form trumps whatever simple and base content these songs started with, or, and this is what I think makes those covers so compelling, they could be only drawing out and making explicit themes and possible readings of seemingly innocuous pop music that we'd never otherwise see - the supremacy of will, emotion and self within the tiny, insulated perfect world of the love song. We all take it as an indication of his insanity that Charles Manson heard personal apocalyptic messages in the white album (and rightfully so), but it's impossible to approach any of the songs on "Let It Be" from the same position of naivitee once you've heard what they "mean" within the context of Laibach's reinterpretation (with the possible exception of "Across The Universe"). To paraphrase Nietzsche, if you gaze for long into a spinning 45, the 45 gazes also into you.

What does all of this have to do with "Volk"? Well, the genre they're taking as their subject, national anthems, couldn't on the surface be any more different than the pop songs they've repurposed in the past (although, as I've tried to point out, surfaces are quite deceiving when it comes to Laibach). Instead of "sabotaging" the pop song by introducing questions of nationalism, power and politics that are normally anathema to pop, in "Volk" Laibach are creating space for commentary and criticism within a form that is explicitly meant for opposite purposes: namely the unquestionable celebration of nationalism and power. If the isolated would-be dictator can find inspiration in Top 40 dross, then so can the cultural critic, the anarchist and the dissident find fertile ground in the chest-pounding, anti-thought of the jingoistic anthem.

Laibach 'Volk'

Laibach is by nature an incredibly political musical entity. When the foundations of your art are the confluence of totalitarian imagery and pop music, it's impossible to not have pretty much everything you do picked apart and analyzed, searching for a straightforward interpretation which may not even be there, a straightforward meaning which arguably can't exist at all. The strength of Laibach as a group has always been in their acceptance of the lack of easy answers in their own work, and in politically charged art and music in general. The eternal question that has always haunted them, the "are they or aren't they fascists themselves" question misses the point by a wide margin. It's the ambiguity that matters, a fact that the band awknowledges in their refusal to address it except with more questions (ie, vocalist Milan's oft repeated declaration "We are fascists as much as Hitler was a painter", a statement only an idiot would try to draw a literal answer from). Which brings us to 2006's "Volk" another in the band's series of concept records*, this LP finds our venerable satirists collaborating with Slovenian group Silence on a series of songs based on national anthems. The lyrics for each track address some social or historical aspect of the nation, while the arrangements twist the typical bombast and *ahem* anthemic qualities to be found in national music into something much more sinister. It's a natural fit, after all there isn't a piece of music simultaneously populist and political than a national anthem and that fact provides fertile ground for commentary on issues of national identity. On "Volk" the commentary often takes a more laid-back approach, "Anglia" is a light trip-hop style piece which skewers the arrogance of the English empire even in decline, while "Vaticanae" is almost reverent in it's simple Organ and vocal fuelled approach. There is confrontational work here however, not surprisingly on "Yisra’el" which includes within it verses from Palestinian national songs and "Francia" which criticizes France's hard-headed policies in dealing with civil unrest. It's fascinating to listen to both from the musical angle where the pomp of the music is frequently sent over the top as with "Nippon", or alternately stripped of extraneous meaning and turned into simple pleas and statements, as with "Slovania". Simultaneously, this may be the most obvious and most inscrutable piece of work from the latter era of the band's catalogue, driving home the point that Laibach is never about answers, but about posing questions, which in turn are answers in and of themselves.

*Can Laibach not make a concept record? Discuss.