Love Jonze

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Between directing groundbreaking films (Being John Malkovich; Adaptation), backing well-known skate vids (Video Days; Yeah Right), and co-creating MTV’s Jackass, Spike Jonze has produced a few era-defining music videos in his time. Born Adam Spiegal, Jonze has been making videos since he was 23 and has helmed about 49 projects since 1992 (including 12 videos in 1994 alone). His best work blends wit, spectacle, and thematic ingenuity into one sublime package, often transcending genre convention in the process. And Jonze’s list of collaborators is ample evidence of this appeal: Sonic Youth, The Breeders, The Beastie Boys, Weezer, R.E.M., Bjork, Daft Punk, Pavement, Notorious B.I.G., Tenacious D, Kanye West and more.

Here's a few of my favorite Spike Jonze projects:

Buddy Holly – Weezer – 1994



Paying homage to Happy Days and the rockability of the 1950s, the video for “Buddy Holly” took Rivers Cuomo’s power pop classic to its wonderfully obvious extreme. Jonze blended old clips from the popular ‘70s show with new footage of the band, including an introduction from cast member Al Molinaro -- the owner of “Arnold’s Drive-In Diner.” Highlights include an excellent dance solo by the Fonz and Pat Wilson’s hair.


Sabotoge – Beastie Boys – 1994



Like “Buddy Holly,” “Sabotage” also functions as a rehash of ‘70s television, this time spoofing hammy detective shows such as Hawaii Five-O and Starsky and Hutch. The brilliance of “Sabotage” is its ability to maintain kinesis without any actual storyline – a testament to the frenetic editing (presumably by Jonze). And the Beastie Boy’s fake mustaches don’t hurt either. (Fun fact: Jonze’s one-time beau, Sophia Coppola, conducted the fake interview at the beginning of the video).


California – Wax – 1995



“California” serves as a stark contrast to “Sabotage” given that it’s done in one long take and occurs in slow motion (kind of like “The Sweater Song,” which basically gets honorable mention). It’s hard to take your eyes off of the blazing runner during the video's two minute duration, even to notice Axl Rose's cameo appearance. The apathetic girl shown at the end is a wry, charming touch for this banned-from-MTV video.


Elektrobank – Chemical Brothers – 1997



It may just be Olympic fever, but there’s something about “Electrobank” that makes gymnastics seem fascinating. Perhaps it’s the impressive flips, storyline, or throwback coach that make the video so immediate. Or maybe the cinematography does the trick for me (see: 2:39-2:43). Okay, I lied -- it’s the ribbon wand. Who knew such a frivolous thing could look so epic?


Notorious B.I.G. ft. 112 – Sky’s the Limit – 1997



Of the Spike Jonze video’s that feature children (including “Ricky’s Theme” by the Beastie Boys and “Y Control” by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs), “Sky’s the Limit” does the best job of parodying its respective genre. “Parody” may be a strong word given that Bad Boy Entertainment contracted Jonze to make the video after Notorious B.I.G.’s death in early ’97, but the music video still draws attention to the somewhat childish nature of hip-hop materialism and showmanship. Then again, the piece also invokes Biggie Small’s loss of innocence (he raps: “I mean loyalty, niggaz bought me milks at lunch/The milks was chocolate, the cookies, buttercrunch/In here, eyes crossed from blue and white dust/Pass the blunt”) and recalls a time when he had less money and, yes, less problems.


Praise You – Fatboy Slim – 1998



In truth, I’m not a huge fan of this video. What I love is the backstory: The head of the Torrance Community Dance Group (the group in the video) is none other than Spike Jonze himself working under the pseudonym Richard Koufey. According to Wikipedia, the idea sprung from a joke video that Jonze sent to Fatboy Slim (Norman Cook) after Jonze was unable to work on a project for “The Rockafeller Skank.” Sure enough, the joke spawned a full-blown project, eventually landing Jonze with three MTV Video Music Awards (Breakthrough Video, Best Direction, Best Choreography) and a live performance at the award show proper. Spurred by unexpected success, the episode became the subject of Jonze’s 1999 mockumentary Torrance Rises. (Fun fact: Though the bystanders in the video are unawares of what’s going on, Fatboy Slim can be seen laughing in the background).


Weapon of Choice – Fatboy Slim – 2000

Watch.

Let me know when you convince Christopher Walken to tap dance for your video. Then we’ll talk.


Y Control – Yeah Yeah Yeahs – 2004



Easily the darkest of the bunch (though not of Jonze’s entire filmography), “Y Control” traverses a children’s dystopia not unlike the Lord of the Flies island or a twisted version of Neverland (Karen O as Wendy anyone?). If “Sky’s the Limit” embraces a puerile innocence, then “Y Control” seeks to wreck it. How? Dead dogs, amputations, and Sesame Street allusions. Yikes.

Show Review: Mission of Burma - Versus (Don't Look Back)

Let me begin with a crass generalization: Until this past Saturday, Mission of Burma was basically like the Beatles for me. That is, both existed on the plane of myth – heralded acts of yore preserved by their discography, books, films, and oral histories; stamped as “influential” by a generation that is not my own. The disparities between the two acts are myriad (you were forewarned), but those fabled auras persist, albeit in substantively different degrees: Mission of Burma is a band that was important to the advancement of indie rock; the Beatles were a band that was important to the advancement of music, period.

While the ’60s are long gone (though still being processed by many), “indie rock” is still in the preliminary stages of being historicized. Check Amazon.com and you’ll only find a handful of titles that deal exclusively with “indie music” history rather than as a chapter in a larger work about rock. The reality is that the genre is still relatively new (born in the ’80s and raised in the ’90s) and didn’t receive much attention until Nirvana hit it big with Nevermind (which still emphasized the label “grunge” instead of “indie”). Most of American indie history is still wrapped up in fanzines and recordings rather than well-publicized events (i.e. Woodstock, Altamont), documentaries, or MTV.

While that may be frustrating for anyone that wants to learn more, it also offers compelling consolation – these bands are still around. For instance, of the 13 bands that Michael Azzerad covers in Our Band Could Be Your Life: Scenes from the American Indie Underground, 1981-1991, five are still touring together in their original or near-original manifestations (Mission of Burma, Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr., Butthole Surfers, Mudhoney) whilst the rest of the bands still have members that are pursuing other projects (Black Flag, The Minutemen, Minor Threat, The Replacements, Hüsker Dü, Fugazi, Big Black, and Beat Happening). Though my introduction to Mission of Burma began as a closed chapter in a book, they fortuitously reunited in 2002 and have been making music ever since.

Aurally speaking, the band offers a burly, anthemic brand of post-punk, not unlike early Wire or a more melodic Gang of Four. In addition to the core members (guitarist Roger Miller, bassist Clint Conley, and drummer Peter Prescott), the group also features a tape manipulator (originally Martin Swope, replaced by Bob Weston since 2002) who provides loops of the band as they play and other found sound – an idiosyncratic addition to the music. The Boston quartet’s early career spanned the start of the 80s (1979-1983) with an EP, an LP, and a live album: Signals, Calls, and Marches, Versus, and The Horrible Truth About Burma respectively. Like their contemporaries, they were toted as a ferocious live act, though perhaps to their detriment -- the band eventually disbanded due to lead-guitarist Roger Miller’s hearing problems.

Now a full twenty-nine years after their formation, the band is currently on a jaunt of the eastern U.S. showcasing Versus as a part of the Don’t Look Back Series, which has featured the work from the likes of Sonic Youth, GZA, The Stooges, Belle & Sebastian, and more. One of their shows took place at the Black Cat in Washington D.C. this past Saturday, which I had the opportunity to attend.

I admit that while I had listened to band’s early discography and watched their DVD (Not a Photograph), I still wasn’t sold on their importance. The music is certainly unique, but not necessarily enjoyable or moving; I’ve always felt that Versus was one or two tracks too long. Seeing them live seemed like the necessary litmus test to form a definitive opinion.

This decision proved to be a wise one. Mission of Burma took to the Black Cat stage around 11 PM and proceeded to rip through Versus like they were in their 20s, pleasing old fans and making new believers in the process. In the live setting, the distorted assault of Versus had a bona fide opportunity to amalgamate, using the walls of a small club to its advantage. Anthems like “Secrets” and “That’s How I Escaped My Certain Fate” felt unreal between the crunch of guitars, tape tricks, and energy of the band -- Clint Conley’s bug-eyes and fervent mien alone compensated for the ticket price in full.

In other words, the music suddenly justified its own mystique; this band became worth having a chapter about in a book, a film dedicated to it, whatever. And, somewhat ironically, I now have the opportunity to add to that fabric of influence that was originally presented to me in black and white. Mission of Burma will never have the far-reaching appeal of a band like The Beatles, but they certainly have earned their place in the pantheon of early (and reunited, no less) American indie rock bands. Plus, they put on a better live show than the Beatles ever had the chance to.

Roger, Clint, Peter, Martin and Bob: consider me an unqualified fan.