The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Tuesday, October 10, 2017 — 5
Arts
BBC
‘I Tell a Fly’ is innovatively
avant-garde, intersectional
Benjamin
Clementine
is
nowhere close to done innovating.
On I Tell a Fly, we see the Mercury
Prize winner experiment more
than on his 2015
debut, connecting
disparate
influences
from
Baroque era music
all the way up to
modern pop art.
That being said,
it’s hard to classify
what I Tell a Fly
really is. Bridging
so many styles and influences,
the atmosphere shifts from the
operatic to the African tribal
down to meditative soliloquy.
While Clementine is at heart a
piano singer-songwriter, on his
most recent album, harpsichord
emerges dominant. But it comes
with some cognitive dissonance,
though, because the last time most
people have heard its metallic
twang was high school music
class. And that’s only the start,
because Clementine spends the
whole 45 minute album blending
this
extreme
with
modern
sounds and spacy progressions.
On “Better Sorry than Safe,” the
sound of a dying Ms. Pac-Man
is mixed between the Baroque
instrument.
What remains unchanged is his
uncanny ability to both explode
out of nowhere and seamlessly
distill high-intensity moments
into subdued piano interludes.
Take “Phantom of Aleppoville,”
the
album’s
fourth
track.
Clementine desperately yearns,
“Oh leave me / Oh leave me / Leave
me” between possessive, tribal
hisses, right before fracturing the
track into piano, hummed vocals
and white space.
And
these
transitions
are
not occurring over the stretch
of the album, but rather over
single tracks. In effect, the
album feels closer to a delicately
arranged series of movements
than anything else. Here, we see
Clementine better reflect classical
song
structure
than
modern
composition. Even
still, accessibility is
not lost.
As a whole, the
album
stretches
upward. He opens
“Paris Cor Blimey”
with the ominous
“Pandemonium,
whoa
/
Pandemonium
/
Whoa.” The music is momentous,
almost
apocalyptic.
The
harpsichord spells doom.
Between the stretches of pure
instrumentals, Clementine shifts
sporadically between vocal styles.
Varying pitch, tone and warmth,
among other things, Benjamin
Clementine’s delivery is as unique
as ever. Just when one expects a
forceful staccato, he rounds out
his vowels and stretches them into
the next line.
At
points,
his
lyrics
are
almost incomprehensible, half-
murmured, half crooned. Similar
to Young Thug’s innovation, he
takes advantage of these moments
and finds those internal melodies
that
traditional
song
would
obfuscate. In these moments, his
voice is closer to an instrument
than it is a medium for language.
Yet, what is so intriguing in these
moments is how pushes into
exciting, unexplored spaces while
still rooting himself in classical
traditions.
I Tell a Fly is also intriguing
from
a
technical
standpoint.
The soundstage is continually
manipulated,
vocals
and
instruments alternating between
center stage and fading into the
back. Through it all, Clementine’s
vocals harmonize with either
his own or with backing singers.
Generating that same quasi-gospel
effect that D’Angelo pioneered, the
album feels massive. Especially in
those moments where Clementine
absolutely belts it, I Tell a Fly is
remarkable.
“Phantom
of
Aleppoville”
is the most hip-hop influenced
section of the album, the Spanish
influenced strings could be easily
mistaken for a Miseducation of
Lauryn Hill B-Side. Meanwhile,
“One Awkward Fish” is the most
Drum & Bass / Garage influenced
track on the album. The dampened
kick / snare feels straight out the
club. The groovy bassline makes
contact with early Jungle. Yet, like
the rest of this album, the track’s
foundation is stripped down and
meshed into something larger: in
this case, echoing, choir music.
Now, when we speak of a
musician
having
“range”
we
usually associate to singers who
can traverse six octaves or multi-
instrumentalist’s with equipment
taped to every inch of their bodies.
Yet, what Clementine shows us in
his “range” is his manipulation
of auditory space. Just as easily
as I Tell a Fly explodes and
oversaturates into the gargantuan,
it crystallizes into the minimal.
Which is ultimately I Tell a
Fly’s strength. Here, Benjamin
Clementine
simultaneously
extends across so many discourses
that it’s hard to trace his influences
and
aspirations.
Avant-garde
has long been about borrowing
from the past and reinterpreting
it to as a response to the present.
Between the swaths of chamber
pop to Baroque sonatas to U.K.
dance, Clementine continues his
emergence as one of the defining
singer-songwriters in the U.K.
right now.
It’s seems like a modern social
standard to make jokes and jabs
at vegetarians and vegans. As a
vegetarian of almost two years,
and now a vegan of two months,
I’ve heard enough commentary
from outsiders to write a whole
book about it. But to be honest,
many of them are funny or
interesting or insightful, so I
just roll with the punches.
Society
is
constantly
mocking this diet for a plethora
of reasons — one is the stigma
that all vegans are bougie-ass,
arrogant, “Save the animals!”
activists that will spend a
whopping six bucks on some
organic celery stick. Another is
that the U.S. has a heavy meat
and dairy industry, and if you’re
not eating some sort of animal
product daily, you’re doing
something wrong.
Some beg the idea that
vegan diets don’t provide the
same nutrients that animal-
based products do (which is
both true and false, though
mostly
circumstantial).
And
as an athlete, I’ve loved the
“Well, how do you get protein?”
question. Oh of course! How
could I forget? Because the only
protein source comes from a
cow or a chicken!
My point here isn’t to give
comebacks for all the jabs and
questions. I could throw facts
or statistics out there, but that
is why we have the internet and
food documentaries. Instead, I
want to reflect on my journey
of becoming a vegan and how
my body and mind has so far
reacted to this lifestyle.
It was January 2016. I was a
pretty toxic freshman by eating
crappy foods, picking at my
acne and partying on weekends.
I felt nasty, both internally
and externally, and I knew I
needed a change. Luckily my
best friend, Emma, had been
a vegetarian for a few months
at the time, and of course, she
convinced me to do it too.
But it wasn’t as easy as
“Emma’s a vegetarian, so now
I will be one too!” I come from
the Philly area, which is known
to be meat-heavy area: hoagies,
cheesesteaks,
pork
roll,
scrapple, etc. I’m also deeply
involved with my heritage, and
Ukrainian and Hungarian foods
are loaded with meat and dairy
products. Vegetarianism, and of
course veganism, was not easy
for me to do.
Nonetheless, after those first
two weeks of not eating meat, I
shockingly didn’t miss it at all.
The taste and the texture of it
all, it already felt so foreign to
me. Cheese was still my best
friend though, and even now
as a vegan, it is something I do
miss once in awhile (especially
when my housemates make a
bunch of grilled cheese or order
Domino’s pizza).
Flash
forward
to
June
of this year. I hadn’t eaten
meat for eighteen months, I
had lost weight, both from
vegetarianism and a lack of
weight training, and overall, I
was feeling pretty great. I was
exercising regularly and filling
up on as much tofu as possible.
But there was still something
about myself that I still wasn’t
super content with: my skin, my
constant tiredness, my lack of
drive.
I visited Emma this summer,
and she made us a delicious
vegan
dinner
of
baked
cauliflower, salad and vegan
chicken. I was so surprised
at how easy that meal was to
cook, and even better, how the
meal turned out to be delicious.
It was at this moment when I
realized if I could eat delicious
meals like this one, then there
is no doubt in my mind that I
could be a vegan.
So I started cutting down
on cheese, milk and eggs. I ate
one vegan meal a day, which
usually consisted of a big bowl
of black beans, edamame, tofu,
chickpeas, peas and quinoa.
Those once-a-day meals turned
into two and then three. I
began buying vegan cheese and
meat to use in my cooking, and
although it tastes different, it’s
a taste I am acquiring quickly.
Regardless of the flavors and
the specificity of the diet, my
body and my brain have never
been better.
Now I feel fuller on just
two meals, and I eat more
vegetables
and
fruits
than
I ever have before. My skin
cleared up drastically within
the first month, and I cut down
on caffeine because I realized
I didn’t need it — without
lethargy, I now wake up ready
to take on the day.
In a way, I simply feel lighter
— in fact, I feel happier. Maybe
that’s due to outside factors like
friends and good classes, but
regardless, I don’t feel weighed
down like I used to when I ate
dairy or meat. I look forward to
every meal I make, seeing what
I can add to my diet to make
it balanced. I’ve opened up to
new foods that I wouldn’t eat
in the past (hello, tomatoes and
kale). And overall, this whole
experience has given me a sense
of sureness.
Having a vegan diet has truly
changed me for the better.
Beyond the great impact it
has made to me physically
and mentally, it’s made me
a
more
committed
person.
There is power in committing
to transforming your body,
in saying no to foods that are
wrong for your body and for the
environment, and in allotting
time to cook new meals. I
love seeing what my body and
brain are capable of doing, and
veganism has shown me how
healthy and clean I can be.
It’s time to
talk veganism
HEALTH & WELLNESS COLUMN
ERIKA
SHEVCHEK
MUSIC REVIEW
I Tell a Fly
Benjamin
Clementine
Behind Records/
Virgin
AARURAN
CHANDRASEKHAR
Daily Arts Writer
PUBLIC SQUARE FILMS
‘Martha P. Johnson’ takes
on one too many stories
FILM REVIEW
The
Saint
of
Christopher
Street left this world with as
much of a bang as she entered it.
LGBT rights advocate Marsha
P. Johnson died in 1992, yet
her death — which was ruled
a suicide — is still
open and contested.
David
France’s
(“How to Survive
the
Plague”)
documentary
gathers stories and
archive footage of
Marsha
and
her
friends
to
shed
some light on the
Stonewall veteran’s
mysterious
death.
“The
Death
and
Life
of
Marsha
P. Johnson” tells the untold
stories of Johnson, Rivera and
Nettles. While the film serves
up a stunning portrait of several
pioneers for gay and transgender
rights, it gets confused whether
it is a cold case crime doc
or a study of a marginalized
community who fought for their
rights.
The
majority
of
the
documentary follows Victoria
Cruz, an LGBT rights activist,
transgender woman and friend
of Johnson. Cruz tracks down
many of the cops on Johnson’s
case to get some answers, of
which she receives few. For
the most part,
Johnson’s
case
is
left
cold.
One
redeeming
quality
of
Cruz’s
search
for
the
truth
is
the
archive
footage
of
legendary trans-
rights
activist
Sylvia
Rivera,
Johnson’s friend
and
fellow
Stonewall
veteran.
Rivera
went
from
homeless to founding member
of the Gay Liberation Front,
an
outspoken
activist
for
transgender
rights.
Without
Rivera, the documentary would
be another true crime doc left
cold, but she deserves more than
a supporting role — she deserves
a film of her own.
In addition to Johnson’s case,
Rivera’s life and Cruz’s quest for
justice, another story is added
to the mix, the recent murder
trial of transgender woman Islan
Nettles. While the film’s title is
credited to Marsha P. Johnson, it
is scattered and busy with telling
too many stories. Much like
Rivera, Nettles and even Johnson
deserve more of a film than they
got. Yet, the documentary does
its job in telling the stories that
need to be told, an admirable and
difficult task.
Mainstreaming the history
of the marginalized is no small
feat, and hopefully through
France’s documentary activists
and pioneers alike will get the
respect and credit they deserve.
Documentaries have been telling
stories of the downtrodden for
ages, the question is whether
Hollywood can step up to the
plate. In a post “Moonlight”
world,
can
Hollywood
tell
the
histories
of
the
LGBT
community
along
with
the
fictionalized? Past attempts have
proven to be either tone deaf
(2015’s “Stonewall”) or masterful
(2008’s “Milk”).
Perhaps
France’s
documentary is better viewed as
activism than anything else, and
in that capacity it succeeds with
flying colors. Filmmakers should
take note of the difference
between film as entertainment
and film as activism; while
the former leaves audiences
satisfied, the latter doesn’t. “The
Death and Life of Marsha P.
Johnson” is activism incarnate,
liberating the stories of pioneers
in the LGBT rights movement
for the world to be inspired by.
BECKY PORTMAN
Daily Arts Writer
“The Death
and Life of
Marsha P.
Johnson”
Streaming on
Netflix
Public Square Films
The Saint of
Christopher
Street left this
world with as
much of a bang as
she entered it
Filmmakers
should take note
of the difference
between film as
entertainment
and film as
activism
Society is
constantly
mocking this diet
for a plethora of
reasons
It’s seems like a
modern social
standard to make
jokes and jabs at
vegetarians and
vegans