Podcasts are the world’s most
underrated form of entertainment.
Originating in the mid-2000s after
the debut of the original iPod,
podcasts have slowly grown to
become a dominant form of audio
entertainment, with everything
from
TV
recaps
to
political
punditry to gardening. Unlike
movies or TV shows, podcasts can
be listened to on the go, and unlike
radio, you don’t have to tune in
at a specific time to listen to your
favorite host. While podcasts have
become popular, they have yet to
achieve the level of critical and
commercial success of TV, movies
and music.
My personal experience with
podcasts dates back to the summer
of 2007. As many of you might
remember, that was the summer
that
“Harry
Potter
and
the
Deathly Hallows” was released in
bookstores. Being the savvy nine-
year-old pop culture expert that
I was, I was of course completely
obsessed. My family took a lot of
road trips up to my grandparents’
place in northern Michigan that
summer, and my dad decided to
do a search for “Harry Potter”
on iTunes in order to keep me
entertained during the rides. What
he found was a podcast called
“MuggleCast: The #1 Harry Potter
Podcast,” and the rest is history. I
spent the entire summer listening
to episodes of MuggleCast on the
family iPod, and I never stopped.
There’s
something
personal
about podcasts, something that
approaches the level of intimacy
a viewer might have experienced
in the past from a radio host
or a network broadcaster they
particularly liked. Podcasts are
niche radio. To the nine-year-old
obsessed with Hogwarts, and the
parents tired of hearing about it
from their kid, the idea of a show
where they talked about “Harry
Potter” for an hour every single
week was mind-blowing.
MuggleCast
was
my
first
experience with podcasts, but
it was far from my last. Today, I
listen to almost a dozen different
podcasts on a regular basis. While
many of my friends struggle to
keep up with all of their favorite
TV shows in college, I easily
breeze through dozens of podcast
episodes a month. I live in a house
off campus, which is about a
15-20 minute walk from the diag.
Podcasts are a wonderful way
to make the walk go by faster,
especially in the winter. I can get
my political fix from “Pod Save
America,” a left-leaning political
podcast hosted by former Obama
speechwriters, wallow in my grief
over the latest Michigan football
season with the writers from
Mgoblog on the “The MgoPodcast”
or geek out over movies by listening
to “Total Geekall” and “How Did
this Get Made?” I’ve found there’s
a podcast for every opportunity.
Need to clean your bedroom or do
laundry? Listen to a podcast. Have
some mindless math homework
to do? Listen to a podcast. Unlike
music, you don’t have to worry
about
fumbling
around
with
your phone in the cold weather
to change the song or the playlist
or the album. Put your hour-long
podcast on and you’re good for the
entire day.
There’s an easy friendliness
to podcasting lends itself well to
today’s diversified and increasingly
niche
entertainment
market.
There are “Game of Thrones”
podcasts for people who have
only read the books. There are
podcasts about other podcasts.
Podcasting is like listening in on a
conversation between a group of
friends talking exclusively about
a subject you know you will enjoy.
That’s part of what makes podcasts
work. The distance between the
listener and the podcasters feels
very small. Anyone could start a
podcast really. This semester, The
Daily is expanding our repertoire
of podcasts to focus on culture,
news and student life in Ann Arbor.
Many of the most popular podcasts
today are ones that were started by
a couple of friends who just liked
to talk about history, or football,
or movies, or painting, or bowling
or whatever. That’s the genius
of podcasts. There is literally
something for everyone.
I don’t have time to watch TV. I
struggle to get to the movies to see
everything I want to. I still haven’t
seen “Call Me By Your Name,” “The
Shape of Water” or “Lady Bird” and
am therefore a disgrace to the Arts
section. It’s a good thing “Game
of Thrones” always airs in the
summer, because my Sunday nights
are always filled with meetings. I
don’t have time to watch as many
things as I want to. What I do have
time for is podcasts. I have time for
podcasts because podcasts don’t
require my time. I can listen to them
while making myself breakfast or
while I’m taking a shower. On long
car drives or airplane rides or while
going to the gym, podcasts are the
ultimate media for multitasking.
There’s a low barrier for entry.
Most podcasts are easy to jump
right into, no matter how many
years they’ve been running. The
power of podcasts is that of an
incredibly versatile medium, one
that, while still in its infancy, has
already become one of the most
prolific forms of entertainment
on the planet. For me, as for many
others, podcasts have become a
regular part of our everyday lives.
And yes, every Monday, I still
listen to MuggleCast. Always.
The Power of Podcasts
DAILY ENTERTAINMENT COLUMN
IAN HARRIS
Folk music has always been
tied to place. Depending on
where you look in history, you
can attach the word “folk” to
Celtic traditions in Scotland and
Ireland, early recordings from
the mountains of Appalachia or
the songs and spirituals passed
down from days of slavery in
the South, to name only a few.
While this might seem like it
would splinter the genre, it is
in fact one of its most unifying
qualities: The idea that by
using a few instruments and
writing what they feel, people
can bring a sense of community
into their music, no matter
where they are.
In
Ruins,
First
Aid
Kit
carries on a tradition already
established by some of the
greatest folk artists out there:
They extend the genre beyond
place by rooting themselves
within the music itself. Their
brand of folk music isn’t tied
to a specific place or people;
it’s a feeling, an honesty, that
they carry with them wherever
they go. Sisters Klara and
Johanna Söderberg hail from
Sweden, but over the course
of Ruins, they refrain from
tying themselves to one place:
climbing mountains in “Ruins,”
standing on a Chicago beach
in “Fireworks.” Sometimes it
feels like they’re leading you
through the sweeping deserts
of
California,
while
other
songs,
notably
“Postcard,”
sound like they could have
come straight out of some
intimate venue in Nashville.
Closing your eyes, you can
almost feel the warmth; you
can almost see the piano keys
under the dusky starlight and
the silhouetted heads of the
people around you.
Part of what earns First Aid
Kit this brand of universality
is their shrewd attention to
lyricism. One thing you can say
definitively about this band is
that they understand how to
make folk smart. Rather than
falling prey to the looping
phrases and overused tropes
that are often the trademarks
of
mediocre
folk
(relying
too heavily on the listener’s
sentimentality), they continue
to strike a successful balance
between visual scenes and
personal
confessions.
The
complete package comes across
‘Leave No Trace’ marks
Granik’s narrative return
Parent-child
relationships
are often difficult to portray on
film, simply because, well, most
of us are pretty familiar with our
own. “Lady Bird” was successful
for so many reasons, but chief
among them was the delicate
rapport between Lady Bird and
her mother, drawn so completely
that calling one’s mother after
watching
the
film
became
something of a phenomenon. On
the other side of the coin, one of
last year’s worst films, “The Book
of Henry,” featured a super-duper
strange mother-child relationship
(amid a slew of other errors) that
forcibly removed any viewer from
empathizing with any character.
Count “Leave No Trace,” the
latest film from Debra Granik
and her first narrative film since
“Winter’s Bone,” in the former
camp. Set against the lush green
pinewood forests of Oregon and
Washington, “Leave No Trace” is
a patient and heart-wrenching tale
of father and daughter living off
the grid, in the wilderness and on
the run from authorities that wish
to incarcerate them in ordinary
domesticity. Ben Foster (“Hell or
High Water”), sporting a nearly
shaved head and a full beard, plays
Will, who lives with his daughter,
Tom (Thomasin McKenzie, “The
Hobbit: The Battle of the Five
Armies”), in the liminal space of
society — in a tent in the public
lands of Portland, and, since Will
is a veteran with PTSD, on the
margins of public consciousness.
“Leave No Trace” finds a
satisfying middle ground between
gritty,
which
could
describe
“Winter’s Bone” and certainly
what audiences had been expecting
of
the
film,
and
cartoonish,
which is now how the similarly
themed “Captain Fantastic” will
be understood. Will and Tom are
capital-r Real, with a relationship
that is something like lightning in a
bottle. That the two sitting quietly
together, wordlessly in each other’s
company, is compelling cinema
is a testament to Granik’s ability
to create carefully constructed
characters
and
drama.
The
screenplay by Granik and frequent
collaborator Anne Rosellini (“Stray
Dog”), adapted from the novel “My
Abandonment” by Peter Rock, uses
a simple functionalism to slowly
drip details about Will’s past and
create tension that feels both
natural and enthralling.
Will and Tom, on the run,
provide larger symbolism for the
greater veteran experience. We
know little of Will’s past, only that
he is a veteran, he involves himself
in an illicit drug market among
other vets and he has, on at least
one occasion, a PTSD-induced
nightmare involving an airplane,
weaved into the film only sonically.
Later, we see a newspaper headline
that further resolves the mystery,
but there’s still much left that’s
uncertain. And yet, that’s all we
really need to know to understand
Will. In Portland, he and Tom are
crushed by the churning gears of
bureaucratic machination. In the
wilderness, they’re free.
Foster deserves recognition, but
McKenzie, with a stoic face and
a weary slight monotone, steals
the show. She is truly excellent as
Tom, who is independent-minded
yet empathetic, conscious of her
father’s place in the world, and
her own as well. She lights up the
screen with a measured confidence
that can take years to develop. The
film’s score, with its eerie violins
that soar and scrape above ambient
whisperings, create a tension that
somehow feels at peace with itself.
Granik is back.
DANIEL HENSEL
Daily Arts Writer
like a lost diary or a book of
poems. Equally impressive is
their ability to render emotions
simply and eloquently. Lines
like, “Send me a postcard /
When you get to where you’re
going / Send me a line / To
everything you’ve left behind,”
coupled
with
yearningly
beautiful
vocal
deliveries
from the Söderbergs are both
deceptively simple and utterly
heartbreaking.
Lyrics aside,
Ruins is also
beautiful in a
musical sense.
In “Fireworks,”
you can hear
the
sisters
exploring every syllable with
voices that sound made for
each other. “My Wild Sweet
Love” espouses a dreaminess
to match its own lyrics. One
of the album’s highlights is its
cohesion between lyrics and
melody. “To Live a Life” and
“Distant Star” both walk you
through
seamless,
singular
transformations;
you
can
literally hear it, in the melody
and in the lyrics, how the
speaker is finishing the song
in a different place from where
they began.
All in all, Ruins is a journey
lived step-by-step. In the space
of 40 minutes, the Söderbergs
glide
between
dread,
self-
examination,
honesty,
loss
and the wrong sides of love,
the sides that make you wake
up
feeling
burnt.
They’re
natural and self-conscious at
the same time, with lines like,
“Goodbye never seems finished
/ Just like these
songs that I write,”
from
the
even-
paced yet anxious
“Distant Star.” Each
song feels like a
clear and isolated
shift, all building
toward a conclusion that in
a way feels twofold. There’s
the rage, blame and regret
mixed together in “Hem of
Her Dress,” the understated
penultimate
track,
which
includes lines that are literally
snarled and shouted. It fades
out into clapping, lending itself
to the live feel of the album —
which is quickly ditched in the
final song, “Nothing Has to
Be True.” A confessional with
glowing lines like, “You can
tell yourself so many things /
And nothing has to be true,” it
ultimately slams to black with
an abrupt ending that sounds
like an aux cord being pulled
away.
“Now I feel so far away /
From the person I once was,”
the sisters sing during these
final few minutes. And so do
we: The album is a complete
journey from start to finish, in
an almost tangible sense. But
the peak is the second track,
“It’s a Shame,” which sails
effortlessly between a verse
that makes you want to roll
down your windows and sing,
and a chorus that makes you
want to open yourself up and
cry. In a way, this is a perfect
example of what the entire
album is really doing. First Aid
Kit are opening themselves
up to you and inviting you to
open yourself back, showing
you firsthand what you have to
lose and how you will survive
losing it, what you have to gain
and how you will win it. They
invite you to unloose yourself,
starting
at
the
heart
and
working outwards. And you
don’t have to, but there are so
many beautiful things waiting
there for you to see if you do.
First Aid Kit’s sophomore,
‘Ruins’ is fresh, haunting
LAURA DZUBAY
Daily Arts Writer
Ruins
First Aid Kit
Columbia Records
COLUMBIA RECORDS
ALBUM REVIEW
SUNDANCE
SUNDANCE REVIEW
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Wednesday, January 24, 2018— 5A