George Harrison, singing into a microphone during the Concert For Bangladesh. He wears a suit and a shirt with the first button undon. His dark hair hangs over his ears and down to his neck, and his beard is long and pointed.This past Thursday, February 25th, was George Harrison’s birthday. He would have turned 67.

And with it, we mark the (admittedly probably intermittent) return of Gratuitous Beatles Blogging.

I’ve always had a special place in my heart for the Quiet Beatle, but as I’ve begun an obsession with collecting vinyl records over these past several months,1 I’ve explored his solo work a bit more fully and found my love towards him grow tremendously.

George was a fabulous songwriter, a stellar musician, topnotch guitarist, and a very witty man. But he’s not normally praised for his vocals.

That’s understandable. For one, with his main legacy belonging to the Beatles, he’s greatly overshadowed in terms of vocal talent by both John and Paul. For another, his voice wasn’t that particularly strong. He didn’t possess a large range. He couldn’t hold a note for a very long time. Myself, I’ve always referred to George as the world’s greatest backup singer — not as an insult in the least, but as recognition that his vocal backing in the Beatles was routinely amazing. In that sense, his voice certainly was versatile, and whatever John or Paul was doing, he made it work. He didn’t just allow John and Paul to overshadow him, he also made them better.

At the same time, I consider it a serious mistake to simply overlook George’s lead vocal work. His voice had weaknesses and faults, but he also taught himself not only how to control them, but how to use them to his advantage. Further, I think that if you approach vocals looking only at how large of a range a singer has and how long he or she can hold a note, you’re cheating yourself out of an awful lot. After all, “errors” are a part of the beauty. Singing isn’t only about sound; it’s also about communication and connection. And there, I cannot accuse George of any serious deficiency.

1. My Sweet Lord

This choice may strike many as either an odd or easy pick. It was George’s biggest solo hit, making it easy, and the vocals taken on their own aren’t that particularly spectacular, making it odd. But just like with my love of John’s Stand By Me,2 it’s not as much about the sound George makes while singing this song, it’s about the passion with which he does so. When George sings “I really want to know you, I really want to go with you,” I’ll be damned if you don’t believe him.

This song is praise, and it’s a prayer, but it’s also a plea. He’s saying, “Please, Lord, please, help me find my way to you.” And while not at all sharing George’s passion or path towards spirituality, I can’t help but be entirely moved by that devotion and that need. I think that all of us have likely, at some point, felt a deep and unrelenting need for something, a need that we didn’t quite know how to fulfill, but felt like we would be lost if we didn’t. George’s vocal here speaks to that.

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  1. Every song on this list sounds much, much better on vinyl. Especially the vocals. I’m just saying.
  2. Note: I no longer fully endorse this list.

This video (sorry, embedding is disabled) is of Ewan McGregor on Good Morning America. The part of the video that I’m going to talk about (beginning at :38), discussing McGregor’s recent film made with Roman Polanski, is transcribed below:

George Stephanopoulos: [Roman Polanski]’s also of course going through his troubles right now, being held in Switzerland for, uh … because he’s been extradited for that sex charge [from] many, many years ago. Do think he’s getting what he deserved?

Ewan McGregor: I don’t know, I don’t comment on his case, because it has nothing to do with me. I, I, worked with him as actor, with a director for … I’ve known him for less than I year and … uh, so I don’t make any comment on the case, because it’s, it’s none of my business.

It has nothing to do with me. It’s none of my business.

Now, I don’t know Ewan McGregor from anyone else. I’ve only ever seen one or two of his films, and didn’t walk away with much of an impression in either direction. With regards to Ewan McGregor, I have neither any prior disdain nor affection. He’s just a guy. And, indeed, what McGregor said here is quite arguably not as bad as what Johnny Depp said on the same subject. But people have talked a lot about the kind of thing that Depp said (rationalizations for why Polanski’s rape wasn’t “really” rape, or isn’t worthy of punishment). We’ve talked a lot less about McGregor’s assertion that the subject doesn’t concern him.

I fully understand not wanting to get involved in situations that you were not already a part of, especially when they’re labeled “controversial.” And I also understand not wanting to trash talk your boss — though I don’t understand actively choosing to work for a rapist boss, when there are probably a whole lot of bosses looking to hire you.

But the fact is that “It’s none of my business” is a big problem. Not only because McGregor is essentially saying that rape is not important to him, but also because he’s not the only one who speaks these words. These words are extremely, extremely common.

And they’re words that allow abuse to continue.

All kinds of abuse, whether they be sexual, physical, or emotional — though most commonly when the victim is a marginalized person — are supported through the assertion that it doesn’t concern me. It’s not my problem. I don’t want to get involved. Why should I have an opinion? That’s a private matter. Abuse is allowed to continue because all kinds of people decide that it has nothing to do with them. Victims go unsupported because outsiders don’t want to take a side. Perpetrators are allowed to continue their violence because it doesn’t matter to those who aren’t being abused.

When you say that abuse has nothing to do with you, what you’re actually saying is that abuse has everything to do with you. By deciding to turn away from abuse, to not comment, to not stand up against it, to say that you want to stay out of it, you are taking a side. The side of silence is the side of the abuser. The side of apathy is the side of abuse.

Abuse is all of our business. It affects all of us, whether directly or indirectly. Because we are all a part of a society that is responsible for it. And when a victim speaks out and makes an allegation — whether it be a formal one or not — it is our business, and it is our job to stand by that victim. It is our job to remind ourselves and those around us that abuse thrives on good people doing nothing, on good people saying nothing, on people deciding that people who are not them, especially those who are marginalized, are not really their concern.

It is Ewan McGregor’s prerogative to not comment on Polanski’s rape. It is all of our prerogative to stay quiet about any and all types of abuse, sometimes for even quite compelling and legitimate personal reasons. But we need to know and acknowledge and take responsibility for the fact that we are not neutral when we do so. And when we say that it is none of our business, we are not only letting victims down and allowing perpetrators to prosper, we are also lying through our teeth.

via Ginmar

My post about Mackenzie Phillips and the public reaction to her recent revelation that her father John Phillips raped her has been linked pretty widely at this point, and as a result I have received some rather obnoxious and outright disgusting comments (and emails). That’s not a complaint, at all — thank you for the links, everyone! — rather, it’s just a very sad aspect of blogging, a part of the deal. A lot of what I’ve received is the usual — she’s lying, he’s innocent until proven guilty, it was a long time ago so we should just drop it, etc.

But one set of responses is particularly prominent in this case. I find it fascinating, and it’s a subject that I haven’t personally seen addressed elsewhere. A whole lot of people are really, really focused on the fact that Mackenzie Phillips has written a book about her life, including in large part the abuse she faced at the hands of her father — meaning that she will make money off of talking about what he did to her.

This group of people, for the most part, don’t seem to directly deny that the abuse took place — they engage in a lot of rape apologism, yes, but not outright denial. Unlike most cases where a famous man is accused of rape and hoards of people respond “lying bitch, she’s just out for his money,” most people who bring up the fact that Mackenzie Phillips is being paid to tell her story aren’t accusing her of lying for a paycheck. They just really, really hate the fact that she’s making money from this awful situation, from her trauma, period.

But I ask you: What is so wrong with that?

Really, I would like someone to carefully explain it to me.

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john phillipsTrigger Warning

Yesterday on Oprah, Mackenzie Phillips, star from One Day At a Time, revealed that she was raped by her now-deceased father, John Phillips (left), from the Mamas and the Papas. This, after years of him supplying her with drugs from a very young age. The abuse continued for ten years, into her adulthood — Mackenzie refers to this continuation as “consensual,” though I highly doubt that it is possible for incest between a father and daughter to ever be consensual, let alone when the father has been grooming his daughter with drugs for years, and raped her for the first time, and many times after, while she was blacked out.

I don’t blame Mackenzie Phillips for referring to this abuse as “consensual incest” — many victims blame themselves, most people period interpret compliance as consent, and Stockholm Syndrome is powerful stuff. She seems to me to be doing the best she can — and from what I saw on Oprah yesterday, though she is using the word “consensual” to describe much of the sexual contact, she’s also clearly identifying all of it as abusive.

I do however blame the media, which is pretty much universally referring to Mackenzie Phillips’ revelations as being about “sex with her father.” They refer to an ongoing incestuous relationship. Some even mention the first (known) instance, in which she awoke from a blackout during the assault. But exceedingly few refer to it as rape. Most that do put the word in scare quotes, while failing to do the same when calling it sex.

Here’s the thing: Mackenzie refers to much of the sexual contact as “consensual.” I understand not wanting to put words in her mouth, and the liability that is involved with that — even though John Phillips was her father, and that should make this issue really clear cut. But the first instance was obviously rape. How do we know? Because one cannot consent to sex during a blackout. Also, because she called it as much on Oprah yesterday. She said that yes, it was rape. Her father raped her. (She also said that when she confronted him about it, his response was “Raped you? Don’t you mean the time we made love?” Extremely typical, if extremely disturbing, minimization and manipulation by an abuser.)

And I’m extraordinarily concerned that the media feels the so-called “consensual incest” is more interesting and newsworthy than explicitly defined rape. I’m seriously disturbed by the clear effort to overlook the latter in favor of the former. It shows where our priorities are, what discussions we are and aren’t comfortable with, and which transgressions are worth public shaming.

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in-touch

I know way, way, way better than to waste my time analyzing tabloid magazines.  Which is why I pretty much never do it, and I’m not going to bother saying much very now.  Because of course, we pretty much see the same shit above every fucking year around this time.

But I saw this magazine in the checkout line in the grocery store, and masochist that I am I had to see who was cruelly and ridiculously shamed on the cover this year with a “worst” label.  And upon seeing Uma Thurman there with the phrase “Saggy Boobs” emblazoned underneath her, it just hit me in the gut like nobody’s business. Because I’m at least used to butts similar to mine getting sneered at.

I’d say “way to go telling women that the way their bodies naturally look is repulsive,” but of course I know that’s the point of virtually everything in this magazine.  But. There is a little fucking thing in this world called gravity, and strangely enough, boobs are subject to it.  Especially big ones. (You know, the same kind women are supposed to feel bad about not having.)

It’s incredibly past the point of bad enough when we’re mocking the “lumpy butt” of a woman who is already thinner than most (while simultaneously mocking a woman for being too thin), as if bodies exist for judging and ones that carry an ounce of fat are hideous and shouldn’t be let out the house.  Can it get any worse when we’re mocking a body “flaw” that is not only shared by huge portions of the population, but that we also can’t even pretend can be “fixed” by spending every waking hour of your life in the gym?

Finally, they’re at least acknowledging the truth that it’s not about getting women to “take pride” in their bodies or “work harder” at them. It’s just about reminding us that close to all women’s bodies, no matter how much “pride” you take or how hard you “work,” will ever be considered good enough.

In 1972, John Lennon, with a new and growing interest in women’s liberation, thanks primarily to his relationship with Yoko Ono, wrote and recorded a song called “Woman is the Nigger of the World.”  The phrase, it bears noting, was coined by Yoko Ono in 1969, and John later decided to write a strangely and infuriatingly catchy song around it.

(Lyrics)

It is, I think quite undeniably, John’s biggest attempt at an overt feminist statement in his music.  It is also his most “controversial” song by far (which is saying something), and with damn good reason.

Yesterday, Renee wrote a post about this song and called it out for its use of the word, the way that its use plays the oppression olympics, and the fact that it erases black women entirely.  You should read it. Further, all of these issues were addressed a few months ago in a thread on Racialicious with regards to a video that shows John on the Dick Cavett show, quite literally defending his use of the word by holding up a letter from an Official Black Person that declares it’s okay. 

Seeing as how I keep finding this song floating around, and since I have been asked on several occasions what I (as Feminist Beatles Fan Extraordinaire) think of it, I thought it was time to officially address it.

I want to state first of all that I absolutely, unequivocally agree with Renee’s take.  I also agree with a majority of the sentiments found in the Racialicious thread.  The song, to put it simply, is incredibly fucked. And his defense of it is one of the most ignorant, epic fails ever. I find it embarrassing as a fan and as a person.

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borderpatrol

I just came across a post at Sociological Images about an outrageously racist flash video game called Border Patrol.  They note that in the game, “you try to keep three types of Mexicans from crossing the border: drug dealers, Mexican nationalists, and ‘breeders.’”  Video game site Kotaku — which thankfully also calls the video game racist — gives a highly similar description.  As you’ll notice in the image above, which is of a heavily pregnant and barefoot caricatured woman crossing the border, she is also on her way to the welfare office.

But you may also notice something else.  Looking at the image, there are bullet holes in the sign that says “Welcome to the United States” (with a picture of a flag that seems to indicate an anti-Semitic message that the country is run by Jews — am I missing something?).  The woman in the game also looks like her head is in the cross hairs of a gun.

That’s right, in this game we’re not “stopping” Mexican immigrants from crossing the border without documentation by, oh, calling the police.  Or by using another horrific and degrading option like catching them in a net to send them back over the border.

No, players are shooting them dead.

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Well.  Apparently that Seth Rogen Observe and Report movie is way, way, way, way worse than I had already anticipated.  It does not only just make plain old “rape jokes,” as in characters joking about rape — it actually includes a scene of rape as a joke.

Check out this full post on Tiger Beatdown (h/t) because I for one cannot bring myself to write any more about this utterly triggering bullshit, and because the post is already totally excellent and I can’t top it.

I can only add that I wish horrible, horrible things on Seth Rogen and writer-director Jody Hill.  Bad, horrible things that might just maybe show them what awful, shitty excuses for human beings they are.

And I swear to you now:  from this point forward, I will never, ever see a single film that either of them are involved with.  I will only suggest that you do the same.

omfg-abbey-road

Oh yeah.  You know that if the announcement of Beatles Rock Band required a multiple exclamation point title, the remasters finally, finally, finally being released sure as fucking hell deserves an all caps one.

Press release, here. Video, if you can get it to load. (Might play better on Yoko’s site.) The clips they provide in said video sound really good.  At least as good as my bootleg versions, if not better :)

But, have I ever mentioned that I hate the Beatles?  Like, really, really hate them?  Well, okay, I obviously don’t mean that.  What I mean is this: they’re releasing two box sets, both of which I need.  One is stereo with all of the albums and a DVD (!) and one is mono, with replicated packaging, and you know, it’s in mono (!!!), which certain albums are just a million, gazillion, other-made-up-words- trillion times better in.  And Rock Band is being released on the same day.

Prices have not yet been announced for said box sets, but I’m guessing that they are going to be around $250 each.  Which is what the Rock Band box set is going to cost. And I’m just really, really hoping that I’m not guessing radically low.  If there is extra special packaging with the box sets, though?  I probably am.  Which would suck.

Where am I going to come up with at least $750 to drop on Beatles shit in a single day?  Oh, you better believe that I have no fucking clue, other than a good chunk of the tax refund I just got back going in savings at the moment. Probably by sitting in my house and not leaving or doing anything fun until 09/09/09.

Somehow, it will happen. It must. But, Dear Beatles, you suck at the same time as you rule.  Really really suck, and really really rule.

I think the below song is highly appropriate for the circumstances:

Seeing Yoko Ono appear on mainstream American television, appear not to discuss John Lennon but to talk about her own artwork, and even better being treated respectfully by the hosts of said television show . . . only to have her use that time to reinforce dangerous and pervasive myths about disability.  Indeed, knowing that she was likely only invited to be on that show to discuss her own artwork and is being treated with respect because she is reinforcing dangerous and pervasive myths about disability.

Check out the video below, in which Yoko Ono appears on the Today Show to discuss Promise Piece, a new work of art in the form of a giant puzzle.  The pieces will be auctioned off to benefit the organization Autism Speaks.  Even worse, the condition of purchasing a piece relies on the promise that all pieces will be returned to be put back together once a “cure” for autism is found.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Now, there are many people who could be criticized for supporting Autism Speaks and organizations like it.  That commercial on VH1 starring Steven Tyler, Robert Plant, Tommy Lee, and a bunch of other rock stars from the 70s and 80s, imploring you to “put an end to autism,” has been driving me up a wall for months now.  There is also a boycott of Lindt Chocolate going on because of their support of Autism Speaks.

Indeed, I should have written posts criticizing those things.  And, you know, they also would have been easier to write.  I will admit with shame that I hesitated before writing this post.  The last thing this world needs is more people going after Yoko Ono, right?  But I also realized pretty quickly that once we start refusing to call out people who we like, people in fact who we love and greatly admire, what we’re doing can no longer in any respect be called “activism” or social justice work.

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