Free and open to the public.
Reception to follow.
Info: fspp-events@umich.edu
fordschool.umich.edu
@fordschool #policytalks
W E I S E R DIP LOMACY CEN T ER L AUN CH S ER IES
The U.S., Iran, and
Security in the Persian Gulf
American Academy of Diplomacy
Thursday, November 21, 2019
4:00 - 5:30 pm
Gerald R. Ford School of Public Policy
Annenberg Auditorium, 1120 Weill Hall
735 S. State Street
Hosted as part of the Ford School's Conversations Across Difference Initiative.
AMBASSADOR
RONALD NEUMANN
AMBASSADOR
PATRICK THEROS
AMBASSADOR
GERALD FEIERSTEIN
MODERATOR:
AMBASSADOR
DEBORAH MCCARTHY
UK singer Rina Sawayama’s mini-album
RINA is conspicuously missing from the 2017
editions of those top-50 album lists every
major publication puts out at the end of each
year: Not Pitchfork, not Rolling Stone, not
NPR, Billboard, SPIN, Consequence of Sound,
nothing. Maybe it’s just a side effect of writers
on mainstream
outlets
only
listening
to
mainstream
music. I can’t
really
knock
them for it. I
didn’t listen to
RINA
myself
until it started
picking
up
steam
almost
a
year
later,
but it quickly
cemented
itself
as
one
of my favorite
records
ever.
So I wonder
if, when Rina
eventually
(inevitably)
skyrockets
into
pop
superstardom,
those same critics will go back and retroactively
cite it as one of 2017’s best albums.
I call Rina’s superstardom inevitable because
there is no keeping talent that enormous
under wraps for long. Her songwriting puts a
spotlight on some seriously relevant shit right
from the get-go, with the hilariously titled
“Ordinary Superstar” calling out celebrities
that pretend to be normal people through a
highly curated performance on social media.
Her woke lyricism on the ordinary superstar
phenomenon pairs
well
with
her
own rise to fame.
She
brings
this
same
savvy
wit
when she sings on
everything
from
East Asian media
fetishization to the
anxiety of face-to-
face
interaction
in
the
digital
era. No subject is
safe
when
Rina
is shredding it in
song. What other
pop
artist
can
so deftly discuss
the pressure on
marginalized
identities
and
sexualities — Rina
is
a
Japanese
immigrant to the
UK and identifies
as
pansexual
—
while still making
every song a total
slapper?
My
most
personal
connection to the writing on RINA comes
on the song “10-20-40.” It delves into Rina’s
experience with antidepressants, specifically
citalopram (as identified in her interview
with The Guardian), a drug prescribed in
dosages of 10, 20 or 40. Her lyrics speak to
my own experience taking citalopram with
startling precision: “Wanted to feel you but I’m
numb / Don’t even realize who I’ve become.”
Most unsettling is the way she captures such
a specific, hard-to-explain experience of
citalopram, something only another SSRI-taker
could understand. I
felt
misunderstood,
yet at the same time,
I couldn’t find clarity
in my own feelings.
“See
they
don’t
understand / Don’t
know who I am /
But do I?” brings to
life that paradoxical
sense
of
self-
misunderstanding.
There’s a sweeping
connection
in
the
image Rina paints on
“Cyber
Stockholm
Syndrome,” a pithy
song title that invokes
a
psychological
trauma
in
her
relationship
with
social media. Such
an
invocation
is
not
uncalled
for:
An endless pool of
scholarly
sources
show just how much
social media users feel like shit when they
use social media but we keep doing it. It’s
a disturbing and anxiety-inducing subject
— I wrote a ten-page term paper on the
dystopia that is social media, so naturally, I
was intrigued when I saw “Cyber Stockholm
Syndrome” show up on my Spotify. Rina pulls
listeners in with a vivid oral illustration — “Girl
in the corner / Stirring her soda / Biting the shit
out of her straw” — then amps the track up with
a quaking drop to the chorus. It’s gorgeous and
sticky and addictive and that beat drop feels
like a blast of dopamine to the brain, probably
not unlike what actually happens in our heads
when we are validated on social media.
From the very first time I heard “Cyber
Stockholm
Syndrome,”
something
about
Rina’s
music
felt
incredibly
close to home,
like overnight
nostalgia.
It
was only just
last
month
when
the
synaptic
connection
finally struck:
RINA
is
caked in the
influence
of
Japanese pop
icon
Utada
Hikaru,
an
inspiration so
clear in Rina’s
’90s-R&B-
vibe voice that
the Utada superfan in me felt stupid for not
noticing it before. (Sure enough, the day after
my realization, Rina tweeted about meeting
Utada for the first time.) I don’t think Rina
ever eclipses Utada’s superhuman singing
talent — Heart Station remains unrivaled
in that regard — but Rina has an ace up her
sleeve.
A
reflection
on
RINA
wouldn’t
be
complete without crediting Clarence Clarity,
a mysterious and mostly anonymous UK
musician whose
experimental
solo
material
seems
stolen
from
an
elevated
plane
of
existence.
His
bizarre
brilliance
will
inevitably be a
future
subject
of my own over-
analysis,
and
I
will
probably
only scratch the
surface
of
his
wicked
musical
wizardry.
For
now, it’s enough
to
know
that
his
creativity
shines
just
as
strong
beneath
Rina’s
vocals.
Her smooth diva
performance
glows
over
Clarence’s cosmic
beats. If I were to
inappropriately
compare
his
production on RINA to a natural wonder of
the United States, I would compare it to none
other than Crater Lake in Oregon: Pretty and
shiny on the surface, with layers upon layers of
depth beneath it (The retro-textured beat on
“Alterlife” is surely 1,949 feet deep). Clarence
left his glitchy footprints all over RINA —
fellow UK producer HOOST produced “Tunnel
Vision” and “Through The Wire Interlude,”
and the two collaborated for “Cyber Stockholm
Syndrome,” but the rest of the album is all
Clarence. As long as Rina has his Midas touch
backing her up, she
is going places.
It’s a mystery to
me how Rina can
be so full of wit in
her writing, and
how she managed
to
connect
with
an
enigmatic
musical
savant-
like
Clarence
Clarity, but thank
the
Lord
that
she is a goddess
with the pen and
she did make a
match in heaven
with one of the
most
interesting
producers
in
the game. RINA
is
a
tongue-in-
cheek take on the
digital landscape’s
destruction
of
interpersonal
relationships. It’ll
stay relevant until society overthrows its
cyber oppression, a revolution I have no faith
in, so RINA might just be — dare I say it — a
timeless record.
What I’m listening to: The
epic of ‘RINA’ Sawayama
MUSIC NOTEBOOK
DYLAN YONO
Daily Arts Writer
AMC’s five-part documentary miniseries
“The Preppy Murder: Death in Central Park”
examines Jennifer Levin’s murder, a case made
infamous by the media circus surrounding the
trial of her killer. The docuseries retraces how
one murder came to represent an entire decade
and illustrate the role of class and racial privilege
in the justice system.
In the early morning of Aug. 26th, 1986, a
bicyclist discovered an 18-year-old woman’s
body under a tree in Central Park. Later identified
as Jennifer Levin, the victim was assaulted and
strangled to death some time after she was
seen leaving popular teen hangout, Dorrian’s
Red Hand. The crime rate in New York was
reaching new heights due to the crack epidemic,
but the circumstances
of
Jennifer’s
death
were unlike the drug-
related
murders
the
NYPD
had
investigated. A young
white woman found
dead in Central Park
immediately
piqued
police interest, and
made Levin’s case a
top priority.
Within
hours,
police had identified
the
popular
and
wealthy
19-year-old
Robert Chambers as
a person of interest in
her murder. Although police first approached
him as a potential witness, Chambers appeared
to have multiple injuries consistent with Levin’s
attack and later confessed to accidentally killing
her after rejecting her advances. He quickly
hired lawyers who built their defense around
Chambers’ claim that Levin died as a result of
him accidentally injuring her when he rejected
her attempt to initiate “rough sex.”
Much of the series consists of personal
interviews with Jennifer’s close friends and
family who describe how she came to enter the
prep school social circles as an outsider. The
documentary also interviews various tabloid
writers and field reporters who followed the
case from its start and were largely responsible
for creating public interest in the killing. Many
of these media representatives explicitly stated
they felt the murder of a white female was more
“interesting” than crimes against minorities,
which were often assumed to be drug-related.
Reporters also jumped on the sexual element
of the case and put emphasis on Jennifer’s, not
Robert’s, social history.
“The Preppy Murder” uses its first two parts
to make its purpose clear: Depict Jennifer Levin
as she was, not as she was portrayed by the
defense, and ask how a seemingly open-and-
shut case became one of the most controversial
trials of the decade. Intertwined with the facts
of the case, the experiences of family members,
friends, police officers, lawyers and reporters
connected to Jennifer’s story are included
in order to emphasize the importance of the
crime’s social and political context. In addition
to the grisly details of Levin’s injuries, one of
the most disturbing features of the docuseries is
how familiar the whole case feels.
The current social
conversation
about
acknowledging
privilege
has
made
the case of Jennifer
Levin one of a host
of other examples of
what happens when
actions
are
rarely
met with appropriate
consequences. An air
of entitlement infects
every aspect of the case
and is most evident in
footage of Chambers’s
interrogation
and
subsequent
confession. In every
alteration to his story, every denigration of
Jennifer’s character, every outburst against
his interviewers, Chambers oozes the smug,
sociopathic confidence of a man who thinks
the investigation is beneath him. This attitude
is hauntingly reminiscent of the arrogance
exhibited by many of the men facing accusations
of sexual assault in the #MeToo era.
Like
many
other
recent
true
crime
documentaries, “The Preppy Murder” knows
that just acknowledging what went wrong in
this case has not and will not change things.
The manipulation of the media and pervasive
bias in favor of Chambers cannot be undone
or erased. However, for “The Preppy Murder,”
understanding the injustice and prejudice of this
case will remind the American public of what it
still owes Jennifer Levin and victims like her.
‘Preppy Murder’ carefully
reopens an infamous case
ANYA SOLLER
Daily Arts Writer
RINA is a tongue-in-cheek
take on the digital landscape’s
destruction of interpersonal
relationships. It’ll stay relevant
until society overthrows its
cyber oppression, a revolution
I have no faith in, so RINA
might just be — dare I say it —
a timeless record.
DIRTY HIT
AMC
TV NOTEBOOK
Her woke lyricism on the ordinary
superstar phenomenon pairs well
with her own rise to fame. She
brings this same savvy wit when
she sings on everything from East
Asian fetishization to the anxiety
of face-to-face interaction in the
digital era. No subject is safe when
Rina is shredding in song.
The Preppy
Murder: Death in
Central Park
Season 1, Parts 1 and 2
AMC
Nov. 13-15 at 9 p.m.
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Tuesday, November 19, 2019 — 5