The Michigan Daily - michigandaily.com

Wednesday, September 7,2011 - 5A

Ihe Michigan Daily - michigandaily.csm Wednesday, September 7, 2011 - 5A

'Tha Carter' bores

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Can you make it through "The Tree of Life" without falling asleep? Sean Penn couldn't.
OStomachin finer aste

By JENNIFER XU
Senior Arts Editor
This summer, The New York
Times published an article by
Dan Kois entitled "Eating Your
Cultural Vegetables," in which
he mused on the tendency of a
person to watch a film because
he "ought to" or "should," rather
than being at all interested in
doing so - an activity he dubbed
"aspirational viewing." In what
I think is the funniest paragraph
of the piece, Kois describes a run-
in he had with a friend following
a recommendation that he see
Tarkovsky's "Solaris." Kois says,
"When he asked me what part I
liked the best, I picked the five-
minute sequence of a car driv-
ing down a highway, because it
seemed the most boring. He nod-
ded his approval."
I sympathize a lot with Kois.
It is because of this "aspirational
viewing" that I still haven't seen
Terrence Malick's "The Tree of
Life." I know how it's all going
to play out. I know I'm going to
fall asleep about 11,000 times by
the time the ending rolls around.

And II
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SI
A qs
me wi
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watch
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master
What is
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we adn
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And me
tastes s
The
prefere

know that when the lights Pierre Bourdieu, who asserts that
I'm going to have pick my taste - la distinction, the capacity
ring head off the movie to select among a variety of prod-
'seat, grit my teeth, put a ucts and call something a favorite
y grin on my face and say - is an indication of class, a sort
ping to the tune of, "Wow! of orientation and identification of
'as so deep!" one's rightful place in society.
Bourdieu's theory certainly
helps to explain phenomena
A rt has its like guilty pleasures - why, for
instance, a person will smile rue-
brussels fully when they admit to liking
"Jersey Shore," or, when ges-
prouts too ticulating toward their burgeon-
ing collection of Fabio-headed
romance novels, will offhandedly
assert, "It's my beach book," as if
uestion that often plagues there were no other setting read-
hen I'm sitting at home ing such a tome would be appro-
ag whether I ought to priate. We've been conditioned
"The Babysitter's Club" to think that "trash TV" is for the
15th time or some auteur lower class, and the only accept-
piece by Wong Kar Wai: able way of liking such things is
s taste? What makes us like in a guilty, so-bad-it's-good sort
ngs we do? What sorts of of way.
res do we encounter when The problem with la distinc-
sit to liking or not liking a tion materializes when the con-
film or TV show or book? versation turns to hierarchy. If
ore pressingly, what do our one class precedes another on the
ay or reveal about us? social strata, then it seems natu-
standing philosophy of ral to assume that one taste could
nce belongs to sociologist See TASTE, Page 6A

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whett
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Th
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1 Wayne's most And with that superstardom
comes the aesthetic ping-pong
obering' effort game applied to any iconic "art-
ist" in pop's mainstream; he will
thus far be evaluated almost solely on the
merits of his past success and
By JOE DIMUZIO our expectations. He's achieved
DailyArts Writer his own criteria. At this point,
these standards revolve around
hekbeginningofallbut afew moderately athletic and impas-
s on Thsa Carter IV, you can sinned displsys of absurdist
s lighter click, a crackle and, self-aggraodizing, intoxicating
ionally, charm and the occasional nugget
sp inhale. of starkly emotional bloodletting.
rst listen, We expect his chest-thumping to
charming Lil Wayne begin at Olympian/Dali and go
. Upon from there.
n visits, Tha Carter IV So let's be realists for a
wonders Young Money/ moment. IV's got a shelf of aver-
her the Cash Money age beats from above-average
I is even producers and below-average
What is it rhymes from pop rap's MVP. It's
there? What more can the still a compelling listen, but a
lighting of a bowl signify fractured one, with too few fun
a now-perfunctory ritual? moments.
a Carter IV is an album that Much of Wayne's flowhas been
s us to reconsider our faith weathered to a barrage of slow
Wayne, if it hadn't already hash-tag punchlines, so it's hard
challenged. That "faith" for him tocome up with anything
red on a few romantic tenets more than a handful of sub-clev-
at a rapper with massive er riffs on his standard topics of
ar appeal could be prolific, choice. Ladies (mostly strippers),
:ed and consistently thrill- weed and violence get their due,
ack from his stint in Rikers, but he doesn't seem particularly
ng at this album as his last thrilled about any of them.
now supposedly straight- Tracks deploy their tricks
there's not much Wayne- without much thrill. "Megaman"
can count on any more. is one of many "A Milli" palette
hen it comes to Weezy, the swaps, "John" is basically Rick
nsus seems to rest on the Ross playing his part in a tune
um Tha Carter IIas his peak that would like to be Lex Luger'd,
ably correct), with some "Abortion" is all prog-rap sam-
mixtapes and the triple- ple-gazing tailor-made for Lil B
sum Tha Carter III getting to bring it down to earth. Wayne
susic played at high school punches the clock on all of them.
s. He can release a dead- A couple times, Wayne finishes a
e-water "rock" album and pun, takes a pause and calls out,
ill go gold. President Obama "I'm going back in," sounding
snces him in speeches to more exasperated than excited.
verished inner-city youth. And if Wayne didn't already
ce-plants on his skateboard jump the shark with "Lollipop"
TMZ'd in hours. Lil Wayne for all the "real hip hop" fans
re popular than ever. (please get an internet connec-

SV
cOURTESY OF YOUNG MONEY
tion and leave us alone), then he
does it with the Starbucks-core
"How To Love," an acoustic bal-
lad layered with synth squiggles
and a chord progression that's
Mayer/"Yoshimi"-era Flam-
ing Lips with bass rumble, some
b-boy "ey"s and Weezy telling a
lady (a stripper) she's "beautiful."
Hearing Weezy's croak aspir-
ing to croon gives it an earnesty,
a wistfulness and, ah, my water
just broke.
Doing Wayne -reverse favors
is the slew of single- to triple-A
cameos, from the now-obligatory
Drake to Nasty Nas himself. The
majority of them sound more
excited to be here than Wayne,
which for an underdog like Tech
N9ne, is wholly understandable.
Busta does his double (triple?)
time flow, which either astounds
or manages to manhandle the
beat (in this case, forcing it to
stop for a few bars). An uncred-
ited Andre 3K shows up rap-
ping of (an apparently peaceful)
Egypt, staring into the sky, all
cosmic and deified, kissing our
foreheads.
The martian is suddenly earth-
bound.
When our short-term memory
fails us, this album will pass by,
quickly forgotten. Reluctantly,
we keep on chasing the highs of
moments already gone. Ah, dis-
appointment's a bitch. Or a lady -
depending on your outlook.

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