radiohead and philosophy

For weeks and weeks, The Muse in Music has been carefully reading and commenting on Radiohead and Philosophy (and the music industry, and Amazon.com, and George Orwell, and making philosophy scientific… ) I take it they are amused.

The part most worth reading asks:

“Can great art be great political art?  Two of the worst books you will ever read are two of the most renown[ed] pieces of political fiction there are: Nineteen Eighty-Four and Animal Farm.  Instead of choking down three pounds of half-rate prose, read George Orwell’s Homage to Catalonia, a much more personal, much less political work.  And maybe that is the answer: the best art is timeless and personal art.  Political art cannot be either, by definition.”

But maybe not. Especially when there is more in the music in question than is contained in your definition.  Take Phil Och’s “I aint’ Marchin Anymore.” It’s from a different time, the 60s, and it’s about the war propaganda throughout history (i.e. timeless).  And Ochs sounds more personal and genuine than any other folk singers of the time ripping off Woody Guthrie and dreaming of the bigtime in New York City (which Ochs did not do, though there was that strange album cover showing him in a sequined suit.  But I digress).

Or take Radiohead’s “Exit Music (for a film),” which seems to fuse Shakespeare’s old tale with illicit loves from any decade you like to pick. Timeless, personal, grammy-winning (even), and political.  Scratch that: just read Jerome Melancon’s “The Real Politics in Radiohead,” Chapter 12.