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

