Sorry, my phone had to go to the phone doctor.

Jinnistan wrote:

I saw that Wild Man Fischer doc, and have a digital copy of his album with Zappa, but, even among those outsider/eccentirc artists who have a touch of mental illness about them, I find Fischer to be especially limited in his talents.
 

Oh yeah, I figure that pretty much goes without saying.  “‘Speaks so well’ is some shit you say about retarded people that can talk.” He didn’t even touch the frets, he just wanged on the open strings like Diane Keaton in Sleeper. Did no one ever try to slip him an open–tuned guitar? He’s like a kid slapping open palms on a piano. It’s not Dada, It’s googoo-gaga. Praise gets heaped on Fischer by certain individuals in the movie like Mark Mothersbaugh, but even Mothersbaugh’s adoration was not so much about talent as it was about Fischer’s naive innocence and sincere expressions of unrestrained emotion (of the kind sometimes prominent in people with impaired mental capacity, and in puppies). It’s not so much entertaining as endearing. While he must have been a favorite among gawkers, novelty–seekers, and those for whom he symbolized a lack of inhibition they only dream of achieving, but it’s clear that at least some of his fans applaud from a place of pity and protectiveness rather than admiration, sounding not unlike adults spouting hopeful encouragements to a one–year–old learning to walk. It begs the question of whether they’re really helping.    
    



Depending on which definition of “outsider musician” we’re using, I don’t think I can name any that strike me as particularly talented. If we’re using the original definition, the one strictly limited to so–called “unintentional renegades” who are oblivious to their music being the least bit odd, then I’m sure I can’t name any. Other definitions stretch the original intended meaning to include guys like Brian Wilson and Syd Barrett, but in my opinion the original definition disqualifies those guys unequivocally. They started out intelligent and highly capable but fried their brains with drugs, and by then they had already made the music for which they are admired. Another artist who often gets mentioned in association with “outsider music” is Captain Beefheart, but the existing evidence seems inconclusive. If the definition is even further broadened to include any musician eccentric or “on the spectrum,” then we have to include everybody from Ludwig Van Beethoven to Jim Morrison to Thelonious Monk to Bjork to David Byrne. By this watered–down definition, the number of “outsider” musicians might even outnumber those who remain, in which case, which group is more deserving of the “outsider” designation? At that point the term seems to lose all meaning and usefulness.    
 
What I think makes the documentary so fascinating is the narrative, about the phenomenon of the individual, and the phenomena surrounding them. It’s a case study in mental illness, and also in the profound social influence these individuals have on others, not just artistically. Some professional musicians envied the raw innocence he brought to his music; the behavior of average people, comparatively “sane,” were seen to act weirder in his presence.   

The film serves as grounds for condemnation of the state of mental health care both then and now. It’s a case study in how the general populace thought about sanity at the time. He came up in a time when insanity was not only stigmatized and poorly understood but was being glorified in popular culture. The film “King of Hearts” comes to mind, and while the film “Harvey” came a bit earlier (1950), it’s still practically the gold standard for exceedingly rosy characterizations of insanity as being not only benign but virtuous.

I’m tempted to throw in the entertainment industry’s propensity for exploiting people with serious health issues, but if anything, in this film the opposite seems largely evident. The people around him seem to genuinely care about him, believe in him, want him to succeed and think they’re giving him what he needs to thrive. Zappa might be an exception, he himself saying his interest in Fischer was purely anthropological. Talent had nothing to do with it. So Zappa’s interest in putting tragically insane people’s names and voices on his “Oddball Records” seems pretty exploitative from a certain perspective. But it’s a gray area, similar to that in which Frederick Wiseman has frequently found himself. Where/when does documentation become exploitation? And if the two are never entirely separable, how do we reconcile the ethical from the unethical in such cases? Like a lot of people suffering from  crippling insanity, Fischer was also homeless and ostracized by his own family. One of the most important things the film drives home in tragic detail a necessary truth that has yet to be sufficiently understood: in the words of Ken Kesey in discussing his book One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest, “Insanity is painful, make no mistake about it.”

And keep it away from the scissors.

 

crumbsroom wrote:

Now ideally, I obviously prefer when both of these things are present, and they compliment eachother.   

That does sound like the gold standard: crazy enough to retain innocence, talented enough to have something worthwhile to contribute, and competent enough to bring it to fruition (If I understand correctly, that is). Might even call it the Holy Grail.
I've seen Mozart included in lists of autistic musical artists, but the purported evidence seems exceedingly weak, for example claiming that his perfect pitch, sensitivity to sound and demonstrations of virtuosity at a staggeringly young age are enough to designate him a savant. I think that argument is spurious at best. 

So, I was trying to find this guy but I couldn't remember his name and had to scour the internet for him: Akademic A is a freestyle "battle rapper" saddled with autism severe enough he can hardly communicate with others verbally, let alone take care of himself, yet his words flow freely when he's rapping. Whether or not he qualifies as an "outsider," he definitely sticks out like a sore thumb, and almost certainly qualifies as a savant. I'll leave it to the judges to assess his skills, but skills he does have, as well as style and a sense of humor.







 

I can instantly hear what you mean about the rawness of the production on Bleach in comparison to the Butchvig Von Fullstack sound on Nevermind.

And we know what the above post calls for:







Ahh, 1993. What a sweet spot. The tip of the clitoris of my youth. 

Jinnistan wrote:

 

I love this song. Just like I love everything on this record.

Maybe not Smaller and Smaller.

It’s not music (although we can hear good tunes coming from somebody’s radio at one point), this is all real stuff captured on tape, and it is fucking gold. I feel like I can hear reality satirizing itself. The whole collection of these is worth a listen. This one is particularly remarkable in how it’s such a complete story in itself. The circumstances alone are substantially intense, but the events captured just happened to transpire more–or–less along a three–act story arc, neatly packaged with a definite beginning and ending, and with all–too audible overtones of extreme personal danger.
Mere days before the fall of Saigon, our intrepid hero receives an ominous new assignment: “Get your ass to Saigon.”




“Honestly, you’ll… You’ll be fine.”