The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Wednesday, September 25, 2019 — 5A
Nell Zink’s “Doxology” offers a sweeping, multi-
generational story of an American family from the
1980s to our current moment. It’s a deeply modern
epic that whips through cultural touchstones like
the ’90s punk scene, 9/11, late-’00s conservation
movements and the 2016 election. “Doxology” is an
ambitious novel, and though not every swing quite
works, its lofty goals ultimately serve it well.
We start with Pam, Daniel and Joe, three
musicians living on the Lower East Side of
Manhattan who are shocked by both a surprise
hit single for Joe and an unplanned pregnancy
for Pam and Daniel. Their scrappy beginnings are
underpinned by a sense of genuine camaraderie,
and the characters’ histories are laid out with
sprawling, extensive detail. We follow them
through the ’90s as they raise baby Flora and work
on the music, through A&R meetings and concerts,
all the way through to the events of Sept. 11, 2001.
From there, the novel shifts focus to Flora, and
we watch her as she grows up, goes to school, and
gets involved in political campaigns, including,
eventually, Jill Stein’s Green Party bid for the 2016
nomination.
Zink is a sharp writer, the sort whose offhand
observations sting with their acuity. Like when
Flora’s post-grad entry level job starts dampening
her spirit, Zink writes: “She faked the rote
excitability of a charismatic zombie. She hid in
the ladies’ room and cried.” She sweeps through
days, weeks and years with unrelenting speed and
dexterity, but it’s these moments of keen observation
that cut through the grandeur and expanse of the
novel’s concept.
Trump looms large in “Doxology,” but less as an
endpoint in a larger American narrative and more as
a silent fixture, a structural keystone in the politics
of an intimate family story. The modern political
climate, Zink seems to argue, is deeply connected
to the personal ties and erosions in contemporary
America, but the personal will always take
the foreground over the political in a person’s
conceptions of their own lives. “The personal is not
political,” she writes. “It can become political when
abstracted and generalized, stripped of identifying
markers. The political subject is a depersonalized
subject: This could be you.”
On its surface, there’s nothing depersonalized
about “Doxology.” It’s as specific and clearly
drawn a story as you can imagine. Approaching it
as purely a work of political commentary would do
a disservice to the intricate narrative structures
within which Zink works. At the same time,
though, there’s no ignoring the ways the family
dynamics pay tribute and give service to a larger
political narrative, as a send-up of our modern
media diets and political strategies. The personal
isn’t political, Zink argues, but the political might
just be personal. It’ll be interesting to see how
“Doxology” ages, how its specificity and distinctly
contemporary cultural references take narrative
form after their relevance wanes. But that’s a
conversation for another day. With “Doxology,”
Zink achieves a criticism that goes beyond satire to
arrive at something suspiciously resembling hope.
For the moment, at least, the novel feels much more
than merely relevant. It’s essential.
‘Doxology’ is expansive, essential and very, very good
ASIF BECHER
Daily Arts Writer
BOOK REVIEW
Oftentimes, when people think of house
shows, DIY shows or any other sort of
“show” with some other word leading it, they
think of a damp, cold room accompanied by
people awkwardly standing around as the
sound of feedback screeches from a guitar
amp off in the distance. These shows blend
together, featuring band after band that
usually encompasses a similar set of sonic
characteristics and songwriting subjects,
with members either strictly playing the
drums, bass or guitar.
But why is that? The term ‘house show’
should simply imply some sort of show inside
of a house, right? Why is the term associated
with such a consistent, specific experience?
Why does the term conjure up mental images
of christmas lights strung up around moldy
basements with people awkwardly bobbing
their head to loud music that all sort of
blends together for three hours?
This past Friday, I was invited by two
close friends to attend a show they were
putting on … inside of their house. One might
even call it a house show. However, the show
didn’t require me to walk down to a dimly
lit basement or to stand around as my back
slowly started to yell at the rest of my body for
having such poor posture. When I arrived, I
was greeted by a collection of smiling faces,
quietly chatting in the living room, sitting
in different chairs, couches and even on the
carpeted floor. The space was exactly as the
Facebook event had described — cozy.
The two artists each played sets of their
own music. One played a collection of found
sounds in order to create an immersive
soundscape that turned what I thought was
15 minutes into nearly 40. It wasn’t until
she approached the piano that I started to
come to. The next performer played some of
his songs for the first time ever, prefancing
his performance with a short blurb about
how he had never shared some of these
songs with more than one or two people at
a time before diving into a song featuring
a droning synthesizer, piano, cello, and of
course, singing. These songs were much
different from what you might typically
hear from a coffee house singer/songwriter;
I was mesmerized by the long and atypical
structures found in these performances,
wondering when I had last been so captivated
at a house show.
So why do we think of bands playing
different variations of rock music in a smelly
basement as what a house show is? I don’t think
there’s anything wrong with those types of
shows; in fact, I’ve had great experiences at
many of them, as most of my friends and even
acquaintances probably know. However, I
really think it’s important to expand the
ideas of what a house or basement show can
be, especially for people booking shows. But
just as there is a difference between a house
and a home, I believe there’s a difference
between a house show and a show inside of
a house. A sui generis performance like the
one I experienced on Friday are events that
could only achieve the intimacy and wonder
that they do because of the setting and
environment it creates.
House shows, to me, are more than
anything
else
an
intimate
experience.
Sharing music with your peers is something
that’s really special, and I think that no
matter what your music sounds like, it
deserves to be heard. That’s what these
house shows are for.
On turning a house into a
home ... or rather, a show
RYAN COX
Daily DIY Columnist
DIY COLUMN
M83 rose to widespread prominence with the
release of his sixth studio album Hurry Up, We’re
Dreaming, which spawned the successful single
“Midnight City,” a song that arguably represents
the peak of the synthwave genre. Unfortunately,
it’s been downhill ever since for Anthony
Gonzalez, the man behind the M83 moniker.
After the lukewarm reception received by his last
studio album Junk, the decision to follow it up with
DSVII, a collection of instrumentals, is probably
not a smart commercial decision. However, if he
intends to rehabilitate his image among critics and
fans, it makes a lot of sense; an instrumental album
is relatively pressure-free.
DSVII is not the electropop M83 is known for —
it is an instrumental progressive electronic album
that, at times, borders on ambient. It sounds like
the soundtrack to a video game from your youth
that you rediscover years later. You start to play
it out of a sense of nostalgic obligation, only to
realize that it really hasn’t aged all that well. Let
there be no mistake: DSVII is far from unpleasant,
just hollow. The ambient wistfulness it intends to
evoke falls flat.
The tracks range from pleasant, yet largely
uneventful, to interminable. There are a few songs
worth mentioning — the project reaches its zenith
with “Feelings,” a dynamic and creative piece that
avoids many of the self-indulgent pitfalls the tracks
surrounding it succumb to. “A Word Of Wisdom,”
while a decent enough composition, sounds out
of place on the project. It sounds less like a retro
soundscape and more like the closing credit music
to an educational children’s show that is about to
be cancelled. “Jeux d’enfants” is a pretty piano
piece, notable in its restraint and taste compared to
many of the sprawling yet inconsequential tracks
that surround it. “Oh Yes You’re There, Everyday”
is the weakest piece on the album, spending far
too long on an idea with far too little substance.
“Temple of Sorrow” is an excellent closer, and one
of the stronger efforts M83 has made since Hurry
Up, We’re Dreaming. Despite some good selections,
the vast majority of the songs on DSVII commit the
cardinal sin of art: being utterly forgettable.
Nostalgia is difficult to get right — for most, it
becomes a crutch, a cheap trick through which
one can evoke emotions without actually saying
anything. By its nature, it is a dependent tool:
Without the preformed emotional connections to
whatever is being used as the object of nostalgia
(in this case, cheap 80s synths), the expression
becomes meaningless. While it can be a useful
artistic ornament, triggering a sense of recognition
by appealing to some aspect of collective memory,
it cannot adequately substitute for creativity or
interest. Unfortunately, M83 has for the better part
of their career leaned on the nostalgia evoked by
cheesy synths as a crutch (especially on their most
recent project Junk). DSVII is no different.
If you want decent ’80s-tinged background
music, or if you have a specific taste for video game
soundtracks, then listen to DSVII. If not, you won’t
lose much by skipping this one.
M83’s latest relies on a few
too many crutches to soar
JONAH MENDELSON
Daily Arts Writer
ALBUM REVIEW
I was mesmerized by the long and atypical
structures found in these performances,
wondering when I had last been so captivated
by a house show
MUTE RECORDS
DSVII
M83
Mute Records
YOUTUBE
She sweeps through days, weeks and years with
unrelenting speed and dexterity, but it’s these
moments of keen observation that cut through the
grandeur and expanse of the novel’s concept
‘Doxology’
Nell Zink
Aug. 27, 2019
4th Estate