Death By A Thousand Nows, Part 2

Know this, gentle reader:  I am not the sort of man who backs down from a challenge.  I AM the sort of man who ignores a challenge for months at a time, hoping idly that the challenge will find something better to do and leave me alone.  Sadly, when the challenge is self-imposed, this becomes the sort of hope usually classified as "false".  And so here we are, and here I am... wading through volume 2 of the Now That's What I Call Music series, American Version.

I need to quicken my pace, clearly.  Since I managed to limp through Volume 1,  THREE MORE VOLUMES have been released.  This is worse than fighting a goddamn Hydra, and only speed and diligence will allow me to best it.  That, and this delightful stout I'm tucking into.  TO BATTLE!

Volume 2 of the Now series was released in July of 1999, and it has Jay-Z on it, which briefly raised my spirits until I realized the song in question is that stupid one where he samples a tune from "Annie".  Crap.

"...Baby One More Time" by Britney Spears is first out of the gate.  Piece of cake.  This song is very much the definition of innocuous, and I'm two-thirds of the way through it without even noticing.  For such an era-defining track, there really is not much going on.  In a sense, that makes this a perfect chart-stormer:  MONSTER chorus surrounded by barely-there verses that glide back into THE PART so smoothly that the whole song becomes one all-devouring chorus.  The only real misstep is the bridge, which is only included because back in the last millennium people still thought songs actually NEEDED bridges (ignorant savages).  This chorus is such a killer that it easily rallies from the loss of momentum, and we are carried swiftly to the finish by those drums!  That Piano part!  The slap bass and guitar noodles?  Less so.  

"You Get What You Give" by New Radicals is only a half-remembered shrug to me, so... ye gods, this video offends me on pretty much all aesthetic levels (it does have a basset hound in it for two seconds, which helps).  I will be closing my eyes for this one, as the late-90's sportswear vibe is really tearing up my sight-holes. Ah, much better.  Now I can pretend that this is just a shitty Dexy's Midnight Runner's b-side.  Until the "ironic" guitar solo rudely jolts me out of my reverie, of course.  And the List Part at the end?  Where dude talks about "Fashion shoots with Beck and Hanson" and then threatens to "kick your ass in"?  A likely story, cupcake.

And now here's Robbie Williams demanding, "Come and have a go if you think you're hard enough" in "Millennium".  Why do all these creeps want to fight me?  I mean, the feeling's mutual, but my knuckles are all swollen from pounding on that wimp from New Radicals.  Anyway, Robbie Williams may be the smuggest of all Smug Pricks, but this song is fine, I guess.  It's got the James Bond sample, and the Grandmaster Flash sample, and it's sort of like if the Britney Song was combined with the New Radicals.  Swooping, endless chorus meets vaguely uplifting "we are the future" lyrics.  And it doesn't shit the bed during the last third of the song, so it's better than 'nem Radicals.

Oh.  Fuck.  Me.  It's fucking Semisonic.  Which means it's "Closing Time," obviously.  What, you thought it would be their OTHER hit?  Is it going to be a theme with the Now comps that the songs with guitars on them are going to suck WAY WORSE than the lightweight R&B jams?  That's too bad, I LIKE guitars.  Anyway, this song has the sort of dumb lyrics that can only be achieved by someone who thinks they're being WICKED PROFOUND and it has two contagiously catchy parts that go OVER AND OVER AND OVER until you want to die, which is why it was a hit, I guess.  I'm gonna be humming this tomorrow, aren't I?  BOO.

Christ, how creepy is Bono in the "Sweetest Thing" video?  Through most of these songs, I've been consoling myself by saying, "Well, at least I understand why this was a hit."  I cannot say this about "Sweetest Thing".  There are probably people out there who... I dunno, like, this is THEIR SONG and they danced to it at their wedding and it reminds them of their first date and... it's just BARELY THERE.  I don't like U2 (shock!), but they have some LEGITIMATE HITS in their catalog.  This pile of ballad-y nothin' is NOT one of 'em.

This is very rough going.  This volume, so far, is much worse than its predecessor.  And with Sheryl Crow on deck, it is not going to get much better.  I can't remember how "My Favorite Mistake"  goes, and when the guitar starts, I think I... no, I don't remember this song.  Oh, okay, I've probably heard this chorus before.  This is another song with a superfluous bridge.  Dropping that nonsense would cut this song down to a much more manageable three minutes, but OH NO, Sheryl is a SERIOUS MUSICIAN and serious musicians put bridges in their songs.  Hint:  this is why Lance Armstrong left you.  Dude HATES bridges.

This is how low I'm sinking.  I am actually glad to hear "Praise You" by Fatboy Slim.  At least there are some interesting blips and bloops and glitchy parts, and a typically masterful command of breaks.  It's also a smarmy piece of faux-sentimental trash, but I am getting desperate.  Also, in this video Spike Jonze pretty much invents the modern hipster, and so should probably be beaten about the head and neck. 

Hey, it's Garbage!  Great!  Or, rather, okay. "I Think I'm Paranoid" has a pretty decent verse, actually.  Of course, Garbage screw it up by being all "eclectic" instead of rocking, so we get satisfying guitar crunch on the verse but shimmery atmospherics on the chorus and a bridge that is... hip-hop inspired?  Shudders.  Also, much is made of Shirley Manson's beauty, but it would take a prettier face than hers to make up for having to stare at Butch Vig one-fourth of the time. 

Speaking of eclectic, it's Cake!  "Never There" is the sort of insincere clever-dick crap these guys always churn out, sort of a highbrow Fastball, if you will (I WILL NOT).  Still, at least it sounds different than most of this shit.  Come to think of it, that's why these jerks got to have a career.  Whatever.  At least it's short. 

Oh, I get it.  "Because Of You" by 98 Degrees is here to make me appreciate Cake.  God, done.  Can I skip this thing and just listen to "Never There" again?  NO!  I have a MISSION.  I swore an OATH (there is still one minute left of this song and it is DOING NOTHING.  Can I please get a superfluous bridge?).  Pride, it seems, goeth before a fall.  Anyway, this is some bleeps n' bloops over an acoustic guitar and some high-school wrestlers on their way to regionals are apologizing to their girlfriends.  NEXT. 

Alright!  A Spice Girls song!  Oh, no!  It's one of the ballads that I can never remember!  "Goodbye" is one of their post-Ginger singles, which is probably why I am having trouble staying awake.  Get this, you limey bastards:  No Gerri Halliwell equals me not giving a  SINGLE SHIT about the Spice Girls.  Also, I call bullshit on Sporty's makeover in this video.  Apparently there was some music in this abomination, but you could have fooled me.

Blackstreet?  With a list of featured artists as long as my arm (Mya, Mase, and someone named, delightfully, "Blinky Blink")?  Off the RUGRATS SOUNDTRACK?  Oh, yes please.  This song is INSANE, and I could not be happier to see it.  There's this plinky-plonk tropical beat, the lyrics (crooned beautifully, of course) seem to advocate sexual exploration between children, and Mase and Blinky Blink ACTUALLY RAP ABOUT THE CHARACTERS FROM RUGRATS.  I listened to this song twice, and it is hands down the best thing I've heard all night.  Oh, yeah, it's called "Take Me There".

Wait, R. Kelly is up next?  And it's a story song called "When A Woman's Fed Up"?  This is a regular embarrassment of riches!  While not as endearingly batshit as some of his other efforts, this does have:  ultra-smooth soul singing, flamenco guitars, a scat-sung bridge (THAT is how you do it!), cinematic interludes, and drums that get CRAZY LOUD right at the end.  Excellent. 

Everclear's "Father of Mine" comes on, and the part about being a "poor white boy in a black neighborhood" is a jarring choice to stick after Blackstreet and R. Kelly, but I am not hating this as much as I expected to.  Yeah, the string section is a bit much, but the guitars are doing their job adequately, and the drumming on this is pretty great so it's probably being beefed up by a sequencer or something.  Fucking major labels.  Alright, Everclear.  That could have been worse.  Now go away. 

OH, GOD.  Sublime.  I was fairly confident that I could make it through the rest of my life without hearing these creeps again.  "What I Got" is up, and you know the story.  Fake reggae-rap-rock from dudes who manage to be hippies, junkies, jocks, AND fat-asses while also being smug, arrogant white reggae assholes.  "I've got a dalmatian/I can still get high," sings Creep #1.  Heh.  Not anymore, you can't.  What?  Too soon? 

I am two minutes into "I'll Never Break Your Heart" by Backstreet Boys and I've been driving myself crazy trying to figure out which one is Justin Timberlake.  Okay, typing that sentence and this one has got me three-and-a-half minutes in.  Now I'm staring at Sublime up there and hoping I don't throw up.  Is this over yet?  Fuck, thirty seconds left and somebody just did some scat singing.  Oh, thank god it's over!!!

Hello, Jay-Z.  "Hard Knock Life (Ghetto Anthem)" is way better than I remembered.  The hook is still totally annoying and gimmick-y, but it's a lot less prevalent than I thought, and goddamn can dude rap.  And the beat in the verses is actually super hot.  Also, that ridiculous hook is actually a super ballsy move, so even though it's a flop... man, this thing is really good.  And not just 'cos it's up against such lame competition.  
The Blackstreet song is still better, though.

Now 2 ends with "Everybody Is Free (To Wear Sunscreen)" by Baz Luhrmann.  You know, the one where it's all dude giving advice to young people over some anonymous-ass beats and some choral voices and harmonicas and bongos and shit and the dude isn't even William S. Burroughs?  And it's five minutes long and shit?  And now the asshole who "wrote" this song is gonna make The Great Gatsby and DiCaprio's gonna be fucking Gatsby?

Man, fuck that fucking song.

The Lana Del Rey Problem

Okay, this is happening and I'm going to have to deal with it.

Have we all watched Lana Del Rey (the only thing keeping me from putting her name in quotation marks is a rather stern admonition from Theodor Adorno to not use 'nem shits ironically) flame out on Saturday Night Live yet?  Okay, I'll wait here for those of you from the remedial class to catch up.  With us now?  Okay, down the rabbit hole (Christ, am I out of wine already?  This is going to get rough.) we go.

Layer:  The performer on Saturday Night Live is attempting to embody a James Ellroy slash (intended) David Lynch Old Hollywood tragic starlet persona.  She is failing.  Her voice, meant to be a Billy Holliday-style sultry croon, is all over the goddamn place.  She sounds more like Joanna Newsom than anyone genre-appropriate, which means she's hitting every note BUT the right one.  Her body language is awkward and muted.  Her role demands bold, confident motions that convey their semiotic meaning with a direct, sensual strength that simultaneously evokes a submissive vulnerability and a predatory, sexual strength.  Instead, she moves like she's been drugged.

Layer:  Lana Del Rey was born Elizabeth Grant.  Her father is the kind of millionaire where I don't really understand what he does.  She claims to have been performing in Brooklyn since she was 17, to little or no acclaim.  Her father hired a management team for her.  These are the people who rechristened her, fusing Hollywood legend Lana Turner with the midsize 80's sedan the Ford Del Rey (I admit to not understanding this part AT ALL).  T-shirts and jeans were replaced with satin evening gowns, lips were inflated, and Lana's vocal register shifted from a mezzo-soprano to a smokey contralto.

Layer:  Official internet canon allows two pre-Lana recordings by Lizzy Grant.  They are the Kill Kill EP and the Lana Del Rey A.K.A. Lizzy Grant full-length.  This album may also be called Nevada.  Or Nevada  may be a totally different album of earlier songs that sound a lot like Cat Power.  Except for the disco songs... which sound like they belong on an entirely different album.  Which may or may not exist.  Get me?


Layer: The song at the top of the page is a fucking KILLER.  This is where the country-indie-pop of her early work meets the club-crushing production of the new album and the doomed glamour of the new persona and the submissive sexuality and nihilistic desperation that have been through-lines of her entire career and...

Layer:  In the lyric "Open up a beer/and you say get over here/and play your video game", who exactly is playing the game?  Is it the male subject of the song, or the narrator (Lana)?  Is the video game literal, in which case these lyrics are TERRIBLE, or is the game a metaphor, in which case these lyrics are probably FILTHY?


Layer: Why is the performer in the "Born to Die" video so much more convincing than the live performer on SNL?  Is it perhaps because the mise en scene of the video demands a perpetually blank expression?  Despite its provocative imagery, this video dosen't really demand a wide emotional range of its star.  Also, the shot where the tattooed Vincent Gallo Clone sleeps with his hand around Lana's throat is pretty fucked up.


Analysis:  Is there perhaps something disturbing about a young woman (or, worse, her management team) erasing any trace of her early work?  What if her father pays for her reinvention as a fallen-angel-virgin-harlot-superstar?  What if she seems to suffer from severe stage fright?  Are lyrics like "Let me put on a show for you, Daddy" part of the Hollywood Babylon image, or are they indicative of something deeper, darker?  And is it disingenuous for the daughter of a millionaire to constantly use imagery of trailer parks, dive bars, and the American South?

Fucking probably.  Also, the stage fright thing means she's DESPERATELY unprepared for the amount of attention she's about to receive.  If Lana/her management/her father/the world want a tragic second act for the drama they've worked so hard to manufacture, they could at least have a little patience.  Amy Winehouse's corpse is, after all, still warm.

Clean and Safe And Have Fun

The Ark Music Factory "Truth" video did NOT come out on Friday.  Due to "technical issues," it was impossible to view until around midday on Saturday, March 26th.  Which was pretty much perfect, if you go ahead and ask me.

I had been worried, to be perfectly honest, that Ark Music Factory would turn out to be a colossal joke.  If Patrice Wilson had peeled off his face like a James Bond Villain to reveal a smugly grinning Eric Wareheim, I would have been gravely disappointed.  Not exactly surprised, mind, but disappointed.


Thank all the dread powers that spawned me, then, that Ark Music Factory's version of "the truth" is... well, on a scale of "absolutely true" to "utter bullshit", it's not "THE TRUTH" that Phil Hartman cautioned Marge Simpson about just before she sold the Murder House to Ned Flanders.  It's more like "TEH TR000000ttth!!!!!11111!!!!!LOLZZZZZ!!!"  So, while not a scam designed to yank the collective chains of the interwebs cognoscenti, Ark is also not quite on the up-and-up.


In the above clip, Ark "CEO" and bad rap cameo expert Patrice Wilson sits down with a nice young lady who either IS Cynthia Garcia (from the Ark Launch Party Video) or was simply grown in an adjacent cloning vat.  She proceeds to lob a series of softballs to Patrice with such tenderness and care that one might almost suspect that she's been paid to pretend that she's an actual reporter with, y'know.  Objectivity.  And stuff.  


Despite his interviewer having the velvet touch of a dandy fop, Patrice seems ever so slightly evasive.  The vague quality of his responses leads me to speculate as to what EXACTLY it is he's not telling us.


Folks, I've been lied to by a pretty large cross-section of society:  teachers, landlords, cops, club promoters, thugs, criminals, hobos, drug people, musicians, politicians, bosses, girlfriends, and even little old ladies who want a refund for beef knuckles that they left on their kitchen counters overnight.  I have also dished out my fair share of half-truths, evasions, and flat-out fictions.  So I know from bullshit.  What follows is a transcript of the Patrice Wilson interview, along with my de-bullshitted translation.



Everyone wants to know: Who are you?
That’s a very good question. My name is Patrice Wilson. I’m actually the CEO and the founder of Ark Music Factory. I’m an artist myself. I am from Europe, my dad’s from Africa, and I moved here a couple of years ago. I used to sing back in Eastern Europe and I used to be pretty big but I said, “Hey, I have to go to the United States and start making music, to let people know what clean, good music is”, and ever since coming here I started Ark Music Factory and Productions.
The whole goal is to bring people together and show young people that, hey we can make great music and keep it clean; keep it clean and safe and have fun. You know? And that’s who I am, I’m the guy behind Ark. I’m the face of Ark Music Factory, Patrice Wilson.

Translation:  That's the question I paid you to ask.  I'm a two-bit hustler and con man who learned how to use Protools.  The Russian Mafia got one of my songs on the charts, but when I didn't pay them they threatened to cut my feet off, so I came here and started Ark Music Factory.  The goal is to rake in fat piles of cash from gullible stage moms while binding my clients in byzantine contracts that will get me ninety percent of any royalties they should be lucky enough to earn.  And have fun.  That's who I am.  The (fat) face of Ark Music Factory, Patrice Wilson.
 

What is Ark Music Factory?
Well, AMF is a platform to reach out to every known artist out there, to musicians who have a passion for music, who want to reach out to the world and show, hey, I ‘m doing what I’m doing…it just brings all the artists together, it gives them that hope, that future; be yourself and you’re welcomed to AMF.

Trans:  It's a scam.  And also a cult.  Sort of a scam/cult.  With autotune.  An autotune scam/cult with just the tiniest hint of pedophilia.
 
It’s been posted online that you charge for your services. Could you elaborate for us where you stand on these comments and posts that say what you’re doing is wrong and that you’re exploiting kids?
Yes, you know, in fact, hey, I read a couple of articles about Patrice/Ark Music exploiting parents, you know? Large amounts of money: 20k, 30k for a project… You know, I’ll put it this way, what we do and the amount of work put into all these artists that you guys watch on television … is very amazing. Because we provide that platform, we give that music video, we give that song, we give that photo shoot, that image consultant, everything.
How much do we charge? Number one, we don’t charge our artists. If we are to charge an artist, it could range from $2,000 to $4,000. Is that a bad deal? 2k or 4k and you get everything? Hey, you even get lunch!
Look at Rebecca Black, she’s basically a viral star, and she’s appearing on different TV shows. That’s a success right there.

Trans:  I'll put it this way, we charge for our services.  We green-screen in just enough glittery crap to convince the marks that they're getting their money's worth, when really we're just hiring some non-union child actors to fart around in front of some CGI cars and butterflies.  Number one, we don't charge our artists.  We charge and EXPLOIT our artists.  And their parents.  Is it a bad deal?  Not for me!  For my gullible clients, yes, it's a savage and brutal scam.  Look at Rebecca Black... she's RIGHT OVER THERE, BEHIND YOU.  I'll just be shredding these receipts while you take a look.
 
What would you say to those that think that what you’re doing is detrimental to pop music and music in general?
Listen to a song on the radio, okay? Listen to any artist out there on the radio and try to compare it with the song “Friday”? A pop song is supposed to be really really catchy. Now, regardless of the lyrics or how easy the lyrics might be, a part can stick in your head and you get out of the shower, and you’re singing “Friday, Friday!” It’s stuck in your head and thats the whole purpose, that’s the goal of creating tunes and songs like that.
Because we want it to be catchy, we want people to keep on singing along and they say, I cannot get this out of my head!” That’s the whole goal. But there’s no difference whatsoever to the songs you hear on the radio today and the song that we make.
In fact, people say, “Autotune, autotune is so much on the artist!” You know what? I guarantee you – or I actually dare you guys to try to compare a song that has so much autotune….versus one of the artists that we work with. It’s actually less autotune we use. But to get that radio sound, we have to go ahead and create that autotune to balance it out. 

Trans:  Who cares?  Autotune, shmautotune.  These bitches can't sing.  Plus, it sounds expensive.  The rubes probably think it's some kind of R&B Transformer or something.
 
What’s in the future for Ark Music Factory?
Very exciting, lots of work, and I’ll just say taking it day by day as well. Ark Music Factory, number one, and why we got here in the
first place is finding talent, going out there, auditioning people. Back in the day, we were not privileged to go to other cities and states because we had to stay in California.
Today, we are privileged. We are going to be going out to different places, finding talent and just bringing them to the Ark community. We’re going to keep working with people, we’re going to be holding massive auditions. We’re going to be looking for the next viral star. So lots of great things to come.
It’s actually a surprise. If you guys stay tuned, then you’re gonna see, hey, wow, Ark just sprung out from a box. I guarantee you there’s going to be something next week and the week after and the week after. And my promise to the people of America and the world, we’re not gonna let you guys down. You’re going to be intrigued and surprised. Happy!
Anybody – young, old, it doesn’t matter – anyone basically who has a dream out there. I want you to go ahead and
don’t let anyone tell you you can’t accomplish your dream and that’s a fact, that’s why we’re here today. We’ve had a bunch of “no's” it’s not gonna work, you can’t do it.”
But the fact about it is if you are dedicated and you hold on and you don’t listen to what people tell you, your dreams will be accomplished. And this goes for any singer, any actor, modeling, whatever you want to do. You gotta put your heart to it, and that’s why I’m here today.
You’re gonna have a lot of negative comments and people saying you can’t do it and you’re bad and this and that, but you know what? Put your feet down keep your head up and I guarantee you, you will accomplish your dream. This is a message from Ark Music Factory, founder, CEO Patrice.

Trans:  I will be taking a duffel bag of money and fleeing to Peru.  The Mafia wants to cut my feet off.

The Inability of the Human Mind to Correlate All Its Contents

And it did come to pass that we, as a nation, gathered around poor Rebecca Black and tore at her flesh like a pack of wolves...

And for what, exactly?  For grasping furtively at the brass ring?  For not Knowing Her Place?  Because, let's be honest... her face, it is not a Pop Star's Face.  Her voice?  Not a Pop Star's Voice.

One of the main functions of Pop Music is to cement the identity of the listener.  Declaring oneself a Katy Perry fan (f'r instance) indicates an endorsement not just of an aesthetic but of a particular set of signifiers.  Beauty.  Youth.  The barest hint of rebellion.  A wanton and yet curiously virginal sexuality.  Taken together, these things constitute a mask that slides invisibly over the face of the Pop Fan.  It is a mask that resembles the presented image of the Pop Star, and this is where Rebecca Black fails, earning the enmity of her would-be fans.  Her mask is flawed because it too closely resembles her True Face, and thus the True Face of her vicious, mocking audience.


The "Friday" video was made by a company called Ark Music Factory.  It would seem that their business model closely resembles the "Song Poem" producers of the 60's and 70's.  Ark accepts a substantial fee (rumored to be $2000) in exchange for writing a pop song (although Ark Artists such as the amazing 11-year-old CJ Fam claim to have written their own songs) and creating a semi-slick video for said song.  They also feature the artist in Ark Showcases (there's been at least one, with footage to prove it) that seem to promote their stars to the other stars' parents and siblings.  All of their artists and videos are SPECTACULAR.  All of their artists and videos are... wrong.


The Ark aesthetic involves TONS of autotune, which comes in handy when crowbarring a less-than-stellar singer into a vocally demanding role (witness the differences between Alana Lee's live clip in the Ark Showcase with this pristine video version).  The backing music is a dense  mush of dance beats, electronic noise, and overblown guitars (Alana Lee's "Butterflies" is a great example of the "Massive Guitars mixed so low as to be almost subliminal" quality that these cats seem to go in for) that allows no space for contemplation... and yet, unfortunately for the featured artists, the lyrics shine through with a brilliant and shocking clarity.


This is unfortunate because Your Ark Team write some of the most epically insipid lyrics in the history of human expression.  "You keep on tryin', texting me texting me with those smiley faces."  "You had your chance, and you blew it blew it blew it, I gave you one more time to take me take me take me take me."  This is perhaps the main tragedy of the Ark Music Factory.  While the clients are perhaps not the flawless beauties (and there ARE a couple of male Ark Music clients, if you were wondering) and vocal titans pop fans are expecting, the vapid lyrics are the most glaring difference between Ark Music and mainstream Pop.  Not that mainstream Pop music is not vapid... it is vapid in a DIFFERENT WAY.  Much like the Russian Exchange Student who is mocked for asking if "anyone wants to make party", Ark's clients are derided not for their actual meaning (the only significant difference between Ke$ha's "Tik Tok" and Rebecca Black's "Friday" is a bad girl/good girl dichotomy) but their inherent awkwardness.  Again, the Pop Rejection of these artists is not due to their actual aesthetic qualitities, but instead the subtle flaws that brand them as outsiders.


For listeners with a particular sort of brain, this stuff is much more compelling than its platinum-selling counterparts.  I find myself fascinated by the very vulnerability that signals the Media Legions to savage these poor artists.  If we are to have vapid Pop Music, is it not preferable to have it actually speak to the awkward and inchoate nature of the teenage experience than a glossy, scripted version of the same?  And yet, it is this very awkwardness that alienates the mainstream Pop fan.  Ark's roster of artists ATTEMPT to convey the signifiers of Pop, but they GET THEM WRONG.  Thus, they are attacked, picked apart for their own flaws (less than perfect bodies and faces, strained or tuneless vocal performances) and the flaws of their would-be mentors (overly trite lyrics, dated production techniques).  Taken as a whole, the Ark Music Artists are clearly OTHER, and are bullied and shamed as such.


At the top of the page are the men in charge of Ark.  Their names are Patrice Wilson and Clarence Jey.  Patrice is the (fucking AWFUL) rapper who shows up in 90% of the Ark videos.  Clarence has "completed exams" at the Trinity College of Music.  He wrote these songs. They claim that they will roll out a video this Friday that will reveal "The Truth About Ark".  I'm fairly confident that it won't include the "Five Days With Ark" video that they have pulled from all file-sharing sites.  I'm also sure it won't feature the "You Make Me Crazy" video by Darla Beaux in which teenage Darla is strapped into a straitjacket.  It seems Ark has (slowly) become aware of its ominous, cultish image and is making painful strides toward "hip" self-awareness.  Hopefully their own limitations help to keep them... if not "honest", then at least as honest as possible.


The Ark Music Factory story promises to be a deep and resonant episode in the history of American Pop.  Rather than succumbing to our love for schadenfreude, I hope we can learn and internalize the harsh truths that make up Ark's subtext.  

It's better than fucking Ke$ha.