You can listen to the entire interview at KUPS 90.1FM The Sound.

Boeckner and Perry of the Handsome Furs looking, uh, handsome; courtesy of Sub Pop Records.

The Bygone Bureau: Dan, you’re a member of Wolf Parade also. Do you have any other projects you’re a part of?

Dan: No, I’m always talking with friends about starting up some bands, but for now they’re just pipe dreams.

And Alexei, you’re a short story writer?

Alexei: Yeah, I write a lot of stories, and I write some poetry as well. And some short little anecdotal things.

Do you have any books published?

Alexei: I self-publish them and then sell them on tour.

You have one album out, Plague Park. And that’s a real place?

Alexei: That is. It’s Huerto Puisto in Helsinki, where a bunch of plague victims were buried. It sort of started as a place that was outside of Helsinki, but then Helsinki sort of grew around it. Now it’s the one green, beautiful area in the very cubic, sort of Soviet façade of the rest of Helsinki. It’s where all these kids go and drink and have good life and stuff. And it’s just weird that it’s about all these dead people

A lot of your songs on the album talk about living both in a big city and in rural towns. Is there one you prefer over the other?

Alexei: There isn’t. That’s sort of the thing is that I don’t think we’ve come to any conclusions about which is better. They’re both really hard–and good. But hard. I mean, whenever I’m in the city I miss being where insects are, and whenever I’m in a small town, I miss the culture that is in metropolises. Metropoli?

(laughs)

Dan: Metropoli!

Which city are you referring to, if any in particular, on the track “Handsome Furs Hate This City”?

Alexei: We can’t tell you. No, it’s different every night. We just like to mess around with it.

Dan: We wrote it in Los Angeles, but it’s not really about any particular city. I had a couple cities in mind when we were writing it. Like, it was kind of a conflation of Vancouver, L.A., Toronto, and even Montreal, you know, but it’s not particularly one city. But it’s fun to pretend like it is about a city when you’re in other towns. It really gets people fucking riled up.

Alexei: Right. When we were in San Francisco we were like “This is about L.A.!” and everyone was like, “Woo!”. And we were like, “Really? I didn’t know there was this rivalry going on. Sweet. Now we know how to get you!”.

(laughs)

I read that the point of your sound is to make it as sparse and repetitive as possible. What is it about that sound that appeals to you?

Alexei: It’s just interesting. It’s just a challenge to do that. With a two-piece, we wanted to have a lot going on where there wasn’t a lot going on because then it forces different things from the listener to fill in certain blanks. And I think our sound has actually changed quite a lot.

Dan: Now we’re repetitive and really obnoxiously loud.

Alexei: But also more danceable now.

Dan: To answer this question totally honestly, I really believe–and this is just personal artistic taste–that a lot of underground music kind of holds itself above, say, the pop medium, the standard. I think one kind of really fucking disappointing trend in “indie rock” music is giant, enormous baroque arrangements with esoteric instruments. But everybody has the same esoteric instruments! Everybody has a fucking xylophone. For a while when the Neutral Milk Hotel record came out–and they did it beautifully–there was an accordion musical saw, and then all of a sudden, all these bands have an accordion music saw.

And now [there are] these giant, bloated progressive rock arrangements. I think that shit is dead. It’s a dead end. That was proved in the ‘70s when, like “Tarkus” came out, you know? It’s basically progressive rock, right? And there’s some great progressive rock, obviously, and there are some people doing amazing things in that format. But for me, writing these songs with Lex in this band was born out of frustration and a reaction against that. And I know this isn’t going to win me any of whatever today’s version of punk points are. Internet points? Fucking Xiu Xiu points or whatever, you know?

(laughs)

You can see it any era of music: Something becomes popular, a certain sound becomes popular. And I think it’s time for indie rock to just stop doing that. Even my other band is an offender in that. But I really respect bands like No Age, who are also on Sub Pop Records. They’re great. No Age are just drums, guitar, and electronics. That works for them, and it’s very direct and immediate.

But yeah, unicorns, crystal goblets, castles, fucking whatever. Phantoms? Just that fairy-tale imagery has become the new lexicon. It’s as boring and standard as 1977 punk, or like crust punks, or “fuck the man.” It’s totally predictable. If I’m sitting here and listening to a song, I don’t want to puzzle over something someone wrote just off the top of their head last minute in the studio.

Alexei: I want it to be sexy and cool.

When did you two meet and start working together?

Alexei: We met while we were working in a really shitty telemarketing office in Montreal. We were both working on various projects and they ended up colliding. A few years ago. About two years ago, right?

Dan: We met, like, three or four years ago.

Alexei: Yeah, but I mean two years of working?

Dan: Yeah, two years of togetherness.

So you’re working on a new album for 2008. And you’re working on the title Face Control.

Alexei: Yeah, face control is a door policy in Moscow that they use in these really fancy clubs where people are paying five to ten grand just to reserve tables at these places. But even those people who have paid that money are still subject to face control. So they can arrive at the door and the bouncer can be like (in Russian accent), “I don’t think so.” I don’t like what you’re wearing kind of thing. And there’s one dude whose nickname has become Face Control because he has denied Russia’s top super model three times. And if she’s not getting in, who the fuck is? It’s so bizarre.

Dan: It’s a verb too. You can be like, “Dude, I’m super bummed; I got face controlled.” It’s totally Russian, though. The vibe there is nothing is sugarcoated. It’s not politically correct. You are literally face controlled.

Alexei: At least it’s upfront. There’s something interesting about that

Dan: Those two words sound great together, though.

When do you think the new album will come out?

Dan: It depends on Sub Pop. It’ll depend on what they do with the Wolf Parade record.

Alexei: It’ll get out some point this year. We’ll be done by mid-June.

Is it much different than Plague Park?

Alexei: It is. I think it’s quite a bit faster and maybe a bit rock, too.

Dan: It’s a lot louder, that’s for sure.

The Handsome Furs’ latest release, Plague Park, is out now on Sub Pop Records.

Handsome Furs website
Handsome Furs MySpace

I don’t mean to select these people because of anything they’ve done, or even their literary value (I’ve never read either). The point being made is that these people were known only briefly in the popular news and have since vanished, which is apparently still enough to write a book. As exasperating as it may sound, we are publishing too many books because it’s become very easy to publish. Thus, with a lower benchmark for publishing comes a lower standard of quality. We are in a book market where supply has flooded bookstores with an overwhelming number of choices.

In many ways, the overwhelming increase in book selection has led to some positive effects. Books that are extremely topic-specific can be published, because the revenue generated from a single book tends to be so low (as there are a million other books to choose from). So yes, your book on the Northern Mongolian Green Pea is available at Borders. Publishers can also take a little more risk in publishing no-names, especially when it comes to nonfiction. So yes, your dream of achieving literary success by blindly submitting your first novel to a huge publishing house is possible.

We can also make the argument that the more books we publish, the more likely we’ll publish really good ones that otherwise would never see the light of day or publish ones that turn out to be astonishingly popular (A Million Little Pieces, perhaps). So aren’t we better off with a huge number of published books?

Maybe. But I feel like we’re losing something here. The main problem is that there are an astonishing number of terrible books that are published all the time. This might be more apparent when looking at movies or television. I know it’s difficult to despise a book you’ve bought and spent time on, but I must admit that I’ve made some awful book purchases in the last couple years. Especially when blind purchasing in a bookstore (as in, without reading reviews), I often find myself stuck with something mediocre. It’s probably the pretty cover that gets me or the thousand words of praise that cover the back like chickenpox. (I’m fairly certain that every book has been praised as “inspirational.”) There are some books that I’d never care to read (sorry Tenet), but some just trick me into buying them.

If there were fewer books, the publishing industry would be more selective. If they were more selective, then (ideally) they would pick out the weeds and only publish the flowers. Another extension of this idea, I think, is that we would see fewer books that provide solely instant gratification. Think Natalee Holloway. Her story is more relevant to a visual medium than a book. I mean, books last forever; how long do we remember seeing Natalee on CNN? Who pulls out their book on Laura Bush ten years after they read it? Publishers would be more inclined to offer choices that last forever; that are capable of several print runs. In short, books would be more book-y.

There are problems with this idea, of course. The first is how publishers would be encouraged to publish fewer books. Let’s imagine that there was some arbitrary limit imposed by law: Publishers would only be allowed to print a certain number of books a year. Let’s ignore distressing details like how different sized publishing houses would cope or anything else particular.

What are the effects of such a limit? It might sound like a dictatorial cultural system: Our culture is preselected for consumption. But of course, this happens already, especially because books require private businesses. In addition, we have informal selection processes that filter out potential books we could read. We read book reviews from reviewers who only read particular books. Some bookstores only stock particular books. Even now the books we have bought were filtered and selected before we even saw them at the bookstore. We always do our best to wade through the unwanted books to find the true treasures, whether we realize it or not.

Other problems arise. Wouldn’t a limited selection force unpopular books like poetry or esoteric topical books to be eliminated? Or that first time writers would be passed over in favor of established names? Probably, but there would still be a demand for all of those, just a smaller selection. It’s true that it would limit selection from what would normally be available. But imagine every poetry anthology: Have you read all of them? So whatever you’re potentially missing, you probably won’t read anyway. The truth is that people don’t read much, so having fewer books won’t result in a selection problem. There will still be plenty of things you won’t have time to read.

This brings about a point I’ve discussed in another article. If we limited the number of books published, then more people will read the same thing. There would be a community of readers who would relate to each other. A sense of connection and communication would emerge that readers lost long ago when it became impossible to keep up with every book. There might be a narrower selection of books, but at least people could have a conversation about them. Books might actually become more popular and more valued because there are fewer of them.

But if love cannot be had with my favorite indie rock singers, where can I turn?

Why, the annals of literature, of course! I decided to examine (following Kevin’s example of debased misogyny) some of literature’s most notable women and examine the pros and cons of dating them.

Catherine Barkley

from A Farewell to Arms

From a purely chauvinistic standpoint, Hemingway created the ideal mate in Catherine Barkley. She actually states in the novel (no joke): “I’m having a child and that makes me contented not to do anything.”

Pros
• She would be a domestic goddess. No fewer than five times in the novel does she ask Henry if she is a good wife or if he still loves her. This lack of self-sufficiency is ideal for the man seeking a wife who will cater to his every whim.
• She is a nurse, so in addition to her womanly household duties of cleaning, sandwich making, and child rearing, she could take care of most non-emergency medical situations in the house. Health care costs would decrease significantly, allowing for more money to be spent on necessities such as Corona and Maxim magazine.

Cons
• The downside of her utter lack of self-worth is that she is über-clingy. God help you if you just want to sit down with the bros, have a few beers, watch American Gladiators, and give each other tippers.

Cathy Ames

from East of Eden

Cathy Ames is appealing because she is one of the most depraved, evil characters in all of literature. She appears beaten on a doorstep and marries one of the main characters, only to shoot him, leave him, and start a whorehouse.

Pros
• She is attractive in that, “Wow, you’re so evil,” kind of way. Each day with her would be an adventure, filled with such questions as, “Will she shoot me today, or not?”.
• As the Madame of a whorehouse, one has to assume that she is a demon in the sack. Any ill will incurred during the day could be defused in the bedroom, provided she doesn’t shoot you afterwards.

Cons
• See above; she is utterly heartless, and would likely crush anyone who came near her emotionally, and physically, with bullets and brutal swirlies.

Maria Singer

from Fight Club

Maria is the most likable and empathy-inducing character in Fight Club. She is a stabilizing force, drawing the narrator away from Project Mayhem, and sticking with him to the bitter end.

Pros
• She is long-suffering, and will patiently wait for any mental instability you have to pass.
Much like Cathy Ames, she’s a demon in the sack.
• She is possibly a nihilist, which means that any disagreements you have with her can be easily argued away.

Cons
• She has quite a bit of damage. The amount of time spent watching Dr. Phil might not be worth your trouble.

Having examined these three literary women solely in terms of their datability, I have to sadly admit that not even in the annals of literature can a good mate be found. But at least none of these characters are as insane as Conor Oberst.

Ben Gibbard

Man seeks woman to look past his soft exterior to his sensitive, soft interior.

Gibbard is the frontman for many different projects, though most notably Death Cab for Cutie. While his sappy lyrics usually lack any real depth, the familiar sound of Death Cab’s “I Will Follow You into the Dark” or the catchy electronic-pop of Postal Service’s “Such Great Heights” is sure to have you singing along… and then changing the track because you’re so sick of hearing the same damn song. Gibbard seems like he’d be as sweet as a teddy bear, but he also appears to be the clingy type. I mean, “I Will Possess Your Heart?” Yeesh.

Pros
• Probably knows everyone, allowing you to become the indie rock socialite/goddess you always dreamed you could be.

Cons
• Looks like Drew Carey.

Beck

Hot blonde male seeks female to defy the logic of all sexx laws.

Beck Hansen, a staple of alternative rock music and guest star on one of my favorite episodes of Futurama, has been able to stay fresh because he constantly reinvents himself with every album. Although Sea Change seemed to get a lot of flack for being too sentimental and out of character, I thought it was a great example of his range as a musician. Okay, so it is a little boring. Whatever, he’s gorgeous.

Pros
• So sexy!

Cons
• Is a scientologist.

Andrew Bird

Talented multi-instrumentalist seeks band that could match his musical expertise.

Andrew Bird is a unique specimen in the indie rock universe. A classically trained musician, Bird decided to use his talents to write pop songs for the masses, incorporating the violin, glockenspiel, guitar, and his distinctive vibrato whistling. Because Bird loops most of the instruments in his live performance, he is essentially a one-man show. Or, to put it another way, he’s the whole package.

Pros
• Has the ability to serenade you anytime, anywhere with his instrument-like whistle.

Cons
• So adorable and talented, he probably likes men.

Conor Oberst

Boy seeking girl who’s too sad to give a fuck.

Conor Oberst, the relentlessly depressed mind behind Bright Eyes, is known for his mousy good looks and leftist politics. If the constant moaning in his songs is any hint, he’s likely to be a high maintenance boyfriend. Although his constant complaining might become tiresome, he might be kind of fun to date if you’re into crazy people and drug addicts.

Pros
• Will disappoint your parents, which is a pro if you hate your parents.

Cons
• Lives in Omaha, Nebraska.

Previously on the Bureau: Kevin’s guide to the women of indie rock.

Cat Power

Cutie with straight bangs and sudden mood swings seeks man willing to look past her former affiliations with PETA.

Cat Power is the moniker of Chan Marshall (it’s pronounced SHAAAAAWN), heartfelt singer-songwriter known for her minimalist guitar and piano arrangements. Her penchant for playing cover songs–including Oasis’s “Wonderwall”–makes her less pretentious than your average indie rocker, but Cat Power’s reputation for breaking down onstage and ending shows abruptly could pose potential difficulties down the road. She’s also a recovering alcoholic, which is kind of cool.

Pros
• Has modeled for Chanel, which means you can claim to be dating a supermodel.

Cons
• Is crazy. Emotional volatility means that she requires higher maintenance than a Volkswagen Jetta.

Neko Case

Girl who likes country seeks male who probably doesn’t like country.

Neko Case strikes me as one of the warmer characters of the indie rock universe. There’s something endearing and honest about her alt-country sound, and if her gift for between-song storytelling in concert is any indication, she’ll be great at parties.

It’s also hard to ignore Playboy’s reader poll for “Sexiest Babe of Indie Rock,” in which Case beat out others including Cat Power and the entirety of Swedish four-piece Sahara Hotnights. As well as being a scandalous New Pornographer, she has released albums under the name Neko Case & Her Boyfriends. Boyfriends plural? Total slut.

Pros
• Fox Confessor Brings the Flood.

Cons
• Has ugly friends (a.k.a. the New Pornographers).

Jenny Lewis

Spunky redhead and guest star on Growing Pains seeks musical talent.

Former child actor Jenny Lewis, better known as the lead vocalist of Rilo Kiley, is super cute, but part of me has always suspected that the band’s recent popularity has only been sustained solely by this fact. Still, being good looking, I’m told, is the most important quality in a person.

Lewis performed alongside Ben Gibbard, Conor Oberst, and M. Ward on a cover of the Traveling Wilburys’ “Handle with Care” for her solo album Rabbit Fur Coat, which means that she’s tight with three of the world’s whiniest men. This proves Lewis is probably willing to look past any emotional baggage you may carry.

Unfortunately, the biggest obstacle with dating Jenny Lewis is that you’ll have to listen to Rilo Kiley at one point, or even worse, something off her solo album that isn’t “Handle with Care.”

Did I mention she’s cute? She’s really cute.

Pros
• Once claimed that she records vocals in the studio while naked.

Cons
• Once claimed that she records vocals in the studio while naked.

Feist

Hyper-successful female searching for man who can look at her without drooling.

Even with the popularity of “1234″ pervading iPod commercials and Starbucks locations everywhere, the indie rock community still adores Leslie Feist. Perhaps it’s her two well-received solo albums, involvement with Canadian post-rock supergroup Broken Social Scene, or just her good looks, but Feist continues to be the main feature in wet dreams of every guy wearing girls jeans.

Currently, she’s involved with Kevin Drew, who is a lot uglier than her. And probably you too.

Pros
• Is Leslie Feist.

Cons
• Kevin Drew would probably fight you. Drew may not pose much of a threat mano y mano, but if he calls for back up, you may find yourself facing all seven hundred members of Broken Social Scene.

Stay tuned for Caitlin’s dating guide on the male’s of indie rock this Wednesday.

But even if their textual evaluations prove irrelevant, one cannot dismiss their entire reviewing apparatus. For all their babbling, Pitchfork can still lend valuable exposure to bands who deserve it by giving them a high score and spot in the “Best New Music” section. Some may bemoan the Arcade Fire’s widespread popularity, but I enjoy being able to strike up a conversation about Funeral with nearly any college student. Pitchfork deserves credit for this. There are countless other examples of bands catching a break via Pitchfork, from Tapes ‘n Tapes to Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, making it impossible to demonize the Forkers entirely (unless you find CYHSY as annoying as I do).

So, even Pitchfork’s most frustrating feature is somewhat redeemable, and that’s only the surface of their enterprise. While their news section prefers masturbatory yammering to a well-crafted lead, their coverage is fairly thorough. Though their questions are needlessly quirky and often self-important, Pitchfork can land high-profile interviews because of their clout in the industry. I don’t care for the establishing descriptions, but their Forkcast section sometimes offers exclusive content or interesting rarities. Basically, Pitchfork balances every annoyance with some kind of substance. It can be maddening to wade through the pretension to reach the useful content, but at least that content is there. (Let’s not discuss their “Best Of” features.)

Where this rule doesn’t apply is at the Pitchfork Music Festival. Nitpicking aside, I think it’s a great event. I’ve been the past two summers, and I can’t imagine a better value. Not only is it the ideal place to coalesce around fellow hipsters and beloved bands, but the festival also presents interesting new music to a receptive audience. This makes my life better because I now enjoy the Sea & Cake, and it makes the Sea & Cake’s life better because I will pay money to see their concert if they play in my town. Best of all, there is precious little room for Pitchfork’s editorial voice to disrupt their music festival. The audience engages directly with the music, with Pitchfork’s authorship only obvious in the festival line-up. And, as we have established, Pitchfork is exactly as good at recognizing talent as they are bad at describing it.

This is the long way of saying that I feel reasonably optimistic about the upcoming launch of Pitchfork.tv. Debuting April 7, the video-based website will feature content relating to independent music, such as live performances, music videos, and documentary-style features. According to Pitchfork’s publicity, new videos will be offered every day, available on-demand. Nothing in their announcement indicates any form of payment, and it’s hard to feel down about a free trove of videos about indie music. Their program schedule looks promising, too; the premier is marked by the well-regarded Pixies tour documentary, loudQUIETloud, followed by clips from other notable indie groups like the Liars and Man Man.

At the very least, Pitchfork.tv promises to be an entertaining diversion, but it has the potential to become more than that. With album sales languishing and iTunes taking over as America’s largest music retailer, a strong digital presence is now arguably a band’s most important asset. Not only does it help in selling mp3s, but it also drives audiences to concerts, where a successful indie band makes most of its money. If Pitchfork.tv proves popular, it opens new doors both in terms of publicity and creativity. If a good video will get a band noticed on the site, and if getting noticed on the site brings people to the shows, not only will the anemic music video industry feel a resurgence, but other music-related video formats will be given new life as well. It would be fantastic to see more content on par with the Take Away Shows, and Pitchfork.tv could be the perfect catalyst for this kind of indie filmmaking renaissance. But, if it falls short of that high bar, I’m still willing to consider the site a success if Pitchfork can resist the temptation to introduce ponderous video reviews.

[UPDATE: Seconds after posting this article, I caught this item announcing that Radiohead will be offering an exclusive performance via Pitchfork.tv and that a new M83 music video will be premeiring on the site. Jiminy.]

In this situation–discovering an obscure work from an admired source–I have a standard evaluation procedure, as I suspect many people do. First, I look it up on Wikipedia or IMDb, where I read the plot synopsis, check out the actors/director/writer, and maybe skim a user review or two. Then I head over to Metacritic.com, which shows an approximate average of the reviews from professional publications. I also generally read the blurbs supplied by a few trusted sources, and I may even click through to an article-length review.

For Revolver, though, I abandoned this process.

I knew that if Ritchie had produced another film on the level of Lock Stock, I would have known about it. I assumed then that Revolver had not been well-received and that canvassing Metacritic would reveal a critical flogging. (Note: if you too are intrigued by Revolver, I recommend closing your browser now and finishing this article after you’ve seen the movie.)

It turns out that the critics didn’t just dislike Revolver, they despised it. Roger Ebert writes, “It seems designed to punish the audience for buying tickets.” Given its abysmally poor score on Metacritic, I know that I would have skipped the film if I’d gone through my typical evaluation.

And that would’ve been a shame. Not because Revolver is particularly good or because the criticism leveled against it is in any way unfair or inaccurate, but because it was damn interesting to watch a director I love spiral into insanity. Going in tabula rasa, I was left to fend for myself as the film’s internal logic disintegrated. Had I checked the reviews, I would have known that the plot makes no sense, but instead I had a blast trying to piece it all together. Though I would never call Revolver a good or even decent movie, I’m just as hesitant to decry its cultural merit.

My biggest complaint about reviews, though, is not that they would have prevented me from seeing Revolver, but that, if I had somehow brushed aside the criticism and watched it anyway, the reviews would have forced me to dislike the film. Rather than absorbing it on my terms–muddling through the confusion and forming an opinion of my own–I would have seen only the negatives. Scott Tobias in The Onion A.V. Club writes, “The film opens with no less than five white-on-black epigrams from sources such as Machiavelli and Julius Caesar, so at least it’s upfront about its high-mindedness, but Ritchie relies too much on those quotes to do the philosophical heavy lifting.” This is, in no uncertain terms, true. Ritchie repeats these quotes incessantly throughout the movie, leaning on them to give the dialogue intellectual weight. But I liked them. Sure, their implementation is heavy-handed, but I appreciated how Ritchie uses them to rewrite the movie’s plot inside of the plot itself. I would never have reached such a conclusion had I read Tobias’s (completely accurate) criticism; I would only have seen the quotes as a philosophical crutch. Call me weak-willed, but I know that once a review plants that seed of doubt, my perception is forever tainted.

I don’t restrict this comment to negative critiques either. I think that any review narrows the scope of a viewer’s potential reaction to a piece of art. If a reviewer praises a film’s cinematography, I’ll be evaluating every framing and every angle as I watch, even though I don’t know the first goddamn thing about cinematography. While gawking ignorantly at a tracking shot, I’m apt to ignore a subtle crescendo in the background music, something I’m much more likely to appreciate. At that point, I’m watching the film from a split perspective, merging my and the reviewer’s observations instead of tailoring my perception to my own tastes.

I don’t want to give the impression that criticism dictates my reaction to art, but I think that reviews affect me, and probably most others, in a significant, perhaps subconscious way. For example, I downloaded a leaked copy of Stephen Malkmus’s Real Emotional Trash in January. I’d been looking forward to this album for years. Pavement is my favorite band, and the snippets of Trash I’d heard at a few Malkmus concerts were promising. Once I got the record, I was physiologically incapable of listening to anything else for weeks. I love it immensely; I think it’s the best Malkmus record since Pavement broke up. During this obsessive phase, I would talk anyone’s ear off about Malkmus’s genius. Last week, reviews of the record began to trickle in. The critical verdict? Lukewarm.

I’m not exactly surprised, given that I would take a bullet for Malkmus, that my opinion of the record is an outlier. But I did notice that my enthusiasm for the album, especially directed outwards, waned after seeing its middling reception. Sure, I may have worn out its freshness by playing it on constant repeat, but as much as I would like to deny it, I like Real Emotional Trash less because it received poor reviews. I’m only glad that I snagged an early copy, giving me a few precious weeks of undiluted enjoyment.

I should say that I’m not denouncing the form of cultural reviews here. Obviously many reviewers are idiots, but I think that the best of them are commendably astute. I’m also not saying that all art is subjective. A sharp critic can locate genuine elements within an artwork and evaluate them in an accurate way. I do think, however, when you walk into the theater or hit play for the first time that you can never predict which areas of your mind will light up. I think it’s a mistake to bridle this potential.

As Ann Patchett notes in The Best American Short Stories 2006, “The short story is in need of a scandal.” I doubt a short story or novella could possibly create such as stir now as Hemingway’s novella did 50-some years ago, but it’s not like the production of short stories has diminished. If anything, it has increased. With the advent of the internet, there are new ways to publicize the medium, many of them free. More short stories at a lower cost. So what gives? If I give a fat kid more Twinkies, he should eat more of them, right?

Maybe. Or maybe that fat kid got on Atkins. Maybe he’s moved on. Maybe Twinkies and short stories are vintage artifacts.

The argument that modernity has sapped our literary intelligence is probably valid here: TV,YouTube, and videogames are all entertainment replacements for the short story. I read somewhere (and I’m sorry to say I cannot recall where) that most inventions today are entertainment-based. Even if I can’t fall back on statistics, the success of the iPod ought to be compelling enough evidence. There’s more stuff competing with traditional forms of entertainment. The short story has fallen to the back of the line.

Short stories, if widely read, would reinforce themselves as factors of association. Like the way we excitedly recite lyrics when we hear songs we know, reading the same literature as someone else is enriching and satisfying. If more people read short stories, the genre would reemerge as a potent medium, in the same way alternative music has created a cohesive culture centered on a shared auditory experience. But in reality, short stories have exhibited the opposite behavior, a crumbling associational relationship. Fewer people read them, which makes fewer people want to read them because they have no one to share the story with. There’s no common experience.

This is all too unfortunate, because I think Americans could use short stories more than ever now. Political scientist Robert Putnam argues in his book Bowling Alone that we’ve become a society trending towards isolation, and that “we Americans need to reconnect with one another.” It seems that short stories have fallen victim to the same movement. It would be a breath of fresh air to be able to recite similar lines of poetry. Not for the sake of pompousness, but rather for a confirmation of affiliation. It seems silly that literary activity has been shoved into classrooms, especially because short stories are typically about a single, ordinary feeling or event.

Whether we know it or not, we now have so much time on our hands to read a short story. They can be read while waiting for the meatloaf to bake or while waiting in the doctor’s office. As Ann Patchett notes, “They are just the right size for reading between rounds of golf.” We think of short stories as a solitary experience–and indeed they are–but our interpretation shouldn’t be. It should be a joint practice. We can share it together. Sadly, the closest thing today might be reciting lines of Family Guy amongst each other.

It’s possible that people confront short stories in the same way that they confront novels: with horrendous fear of authorial purpose that frightens timid readers away. I don’t think short stories convey that same sense of terrifying importance. One of my favorite short stories is “A Temple of the Holy Ghost” by Flannery O’Connor. It’s about two silly girls who like to mock God and are curious about freak shows. There’s a lot to it, but you could just read it like that. The opening line goes like this:

All weekend the two girls were calling each other Temple One and Temple Two, shaking with laughter and getting so red and hot that they were positively ugly, particularly Joanna who had spots on her face anyway.

Isn’t that funny? I guess the Temple joke won’t make sense until you read the rest of it. If you knew the rest of the story, then it’d be funnier. Then we could talk about how funny it is.

Why shouldn’t authors have a direct hand in selecting the cover art? Why aren’t they responsible, or least more involved in, the layout of the book? We’re reaching a time where novels are more than words on a page; it now matters how they appear on the page.

Though some might think that a text stands for itself, this traditional philosophy ignores the actual act of reading. If we could just absorb the words from a novel, how those words appear wouldn’t matter. But that is simply not the case. The chosen typeset, its layout, and even the spacing between the lines and letters subconsciously affect how a reader interacts with the text.

Though a general awareness or insight on typography would probably benefit writers of all sorts, I think its greatest significance is to authors of fiction. Other mediums of writing, such as journals or essays, will always be limited by their layout. And even then, if the intention of a newspaper article is to communicate an idea quickly and accurately, creative play with type would only interfere.

But fiction serves a subtler, less immediate purpose.

Typography may be the most subtle class of graphic design, as most readers are not acutely aware of it. Similarly, great works of fiction are ingenious in the same way–understated but methodically crafted.

In an interview with The Morning News, Jonathan Safran Foer, best known for Everything is Illuminated, explains how a book should be considered completely rather than just a text.

A book is an organic thing. Everything should be in the service of making it just as forceful as it can be. It’s not—listen, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t have a bar code on the back. I wouldn’t have blurbs on it. I wouldn’t have an author photo.

If literary postmodernism is the continued direction fiction is heading (and many argue it is), then typography should become an important part of the writing process. Dave Eggers, author of A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, is known to write his novels in QuarkXPress rather than Microsoft Word. This allows him to consider the book’s layout as a part of the writing process.

Eggers is also the editor and art director of Timothy McSweeney’s Quarterly Concern, a literary journal renowned for its form almost as much as its content.

I admit that he is a rare cross between author and designer, and that expecting writers to be great at both seems unnecessarily demanding. I am not obliging writers to go out and learn software like Adobe InDesign (although I am encouraging it). At the very least, I think it’s important for authors to recognize the value and potential of basic graphic design.

Granted, I have not touched on how typography influences a reader’s interaction with text. This is a question I’ll leave for those bound to write the next great works of fiction.

To begin, a mix CD shall always be referred to as a mix tape, recording format notwithstanding. And now a few rules:

Theme

A unifying theme will score bonus points for the mixer. There are simple and oft-used themes that one may rely on: dance songs, “Happy Summer Jam ’05!”, love-making music, etc. More advanced themes, however, are involved and can incorporate complicated and effervescent ideas. Appropriately, it takes dedication to create these playlists. As an example, I once made a “Free Trade Mix” which brought together songs about ocean-travel (”When the Ship Comes In” by Bob Dylan, “Paper Boats” by Nada Surf), the rise of the proletariat (”Changes” by 2pac, “Wake Up” by The Arcade Fire), long-distance love affairs (”Across the Sea” by Weezer), and lives destroyed by technology (”Blood on Our Hands [Justice remix]” by Death From Above 1979, “Mr. Roboto” by Styx). As mentioned, these mix tapes are much harder to create, especially because one must sustain a smooth tempo flow from song to song (see Flow below).

Opener

The opening track is extremely important. It must bring the listener into the mix tape by introducing the theme, but it must inexplicably draw the listener into the music as well. I often use something extremely catchy as first track–Ratatat feat. The Notorious B.I.G.’s “Party and Bullshit” has been a recent staple. However, if the theme of the mix tape is something down-tempo like love, then only a down-tempo song will suffice. I have used both The Beatles “I Will” and The Beach Boys “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” for such mix tapes (both were wedding presents). My mix tapes are often playful, so I’ve found that my most oft-used opener has been Liz Phair’s “Fuck and Run,” a catchy, sarcastic pop ditty masquerading as a down-tempo acoustic set.

Flow

Of all the mix tape’s factors, its flow is of the utmost importance. You can’t go from hardcore hip-hop to guitar-driven rock; there must be a song between them that matches the tempo and/or tone.

Because of this qualifier, it is fairly hard to incorporate hip-hop into rock-heavy mix tapes smoothly. Similarly, electronica can be difficult to include. There are fairly easy connections between all rock songs–almost every noteworthy band has both down-tempo and speedy songs–but other genres aren’t as easy. Instrumentals often make the best connectors when searching for that ‘filler’ between Jose Gonzales and Justice. A two-minute instrumental will suffice, and it gives the listener an opportunity to breathe between a couple mind-blowing tracks.

Lynchpin

There must be a track that falls at the midway point that serves as the mix tape’s lynchpin. In my favorite professional mix tape of all time, Everything but the Girl’s Back To Mine, an eleven-minute epic entitled “Do it Now” by Dubtribe Sound System brings the album to a climax, making the mix tape into a story of sorts. It unifies both halves of the mix tape, while bringing it to the next level.

The lynchpin should be the best stand-alone song on the mix tape. If the listener was losing interest in the mix (which means the maker has bad musical taste, or they weren’t following some of my rules), the lynchpin should bring them back into focus.

Closer

I believe that the closer of a mix tape should leave the listener breathless and full of emotion. Blame my love for Radiohead’s “Motion Picture Soundtrack,” but I think that a 79-minute epic needs a closing track that reflects the raw emotion left after 74 minutes of feeling every other sensation known to man. At this point, it’s loneliness; it’s the existential idea of one’s “confrontation with nothingness.”; it’s true love; it’s whatever truths have been learned at the end of one’s lifetime. My favorite closers include Bjork’s “Hyperballad,” Death Cab for Cutie’s “Transatlantacism,” Radiohead’s “True Love Waits,” The Streets’ “Dry Your Eyes,” Sufjan Stevens’ “Seven Swans” and David Bowie’s “Five Years.” You’ll notice discovering “the truth” often involves violins or pianos, and it’s almost always more than five minutes long.

Content

A truly great mix tape will include songs both new and old, in distinct genres. It should be a foray into musical unknowns. Nobody should know where the hell we got all the music we have on our computer. Break out one of Mom’s favorites, burn an absurd song from your nephew’s Baby Einstein CD, put the final song from your seventh grade dance on there. Nostalgia and absurdity are great in small doses.

Artwork

The mix tape is one of the last bastions of home made gifts. Now that our favorite photo-sharing websites can customize a calendar with our pictures or personalize a card with a click or two of the mouse, it’s no wonder people have stopped cutting and pasting (like, with scissors and glue, not the computer kind) their photos onto construction paper. But mix tapes, since they’re “illegal” and all, will never be an iTunes “Customize it!” option. They will always be burned in the privacy of one’s own home.

Once recorded, a mix tape is simply a plain, silver CD sitting in a clear jewel case. Is that the best we can do? Hell no, it ain’t. Colored sharpies, magazines, photos, glitter are all necessities of mix tape artwork. Bring that jewel case to life!

Title

The title doesn’t matter, as long as it’s not “Random Tunes 2007!”. If it’s random, give it a random title. (Our existence on Earth is random; there’s no need to state the obvious.) If it’s a specific type of music, “Hard Rock Hitz” or something comparable will suffice. It’s not as fun as “Crescent Freshness,” but creative artwork will save a boring title, and descriptive titles can be helpful when senility hits.

Tracklist

Include a fucking tracklist with the mix tape. I’m fucking serious.

Now that your mix tape is finished, sit and let it marinate for a little while before you burn it. That Lil’ Kim song might feel ironic and clever now, but it might not be funny after three listens. And if somebody complains about a particular song, tell them that they’re “too old to get it.” That’ll shut ‘em up.