#than taylor has this entire year with her massive platform

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☕️ 🫖

[lunar-years]

is there any flavor of TS criticism that DOESNT piss you off? like her neglecting to speak out against palestine, her private jet use, etc? no hate btw, I just feel like your prev post was really well thought out and made sense, so I just was wondering your opinion on criticism against her in general.

hi! Yeah, there is plenty of Taylor criticism that doesn't piss me off! stuff like the jet use, not speaking up about Palestine, not being more politically outspoken in general (especially taken in contrast to the activism she professed in Miss Americana, lol), the questionable people she's associated with (on a deeper level than taking a picture with them or being surface-level cordial, I'm talking like...dating the disgusting likes of ratty heely and some such, here).

For me, that type of criticism is based on where people draw their own personal moral boundaries and what they expect out of the celebrities they enjoy or the art they consume. If someone's hard line is Taylor not speaking out on xyz issue or her taking unnecessary flights and causing harm to the environment, I can completely understand and respect that! It's an individual choice and it’s fair game to have differing opinions on where that line is.

For me personally, I guess I just don't expect my favorite singers to also be my favorite activists, and I don't look to celebrities to be my political mouthpiece or tell me how to vote or what have you. We have politicians and actual activists for that. Quite frankly, I think a lot of people with platforms ought to step back from the incessant urge and demand to comment on everything happening everywhere, because it leads to a lot of people offering up a lot of thoughts and opinions (and rampant misinformation) about issues they really haven't got the first clue about or may not fully understand.

Do I think Taylor could (and should) do better in some areas? Absolutely! I think it would be great if she spoke up more, but I also want her to be informed before she does. At the same time, I like to think I mostly recognize she's a human being and human beings are hypocritical and imperfect on occasion. She is going to make mistakes. In the end, I can still feel that she is a good person, and that is okay. But if someone else's hardline is different than mine, that's also okay!

I am also under absolutely zero illusions that Taylor, in addition to doing a lot of good, is also an extraordinarily rich white woman with a lot of privilege, who is going to at times behave in a very out-of-touch, rich white person with a lot of privilege type of way. I don't expect her to represent me. Hell, she is paying more right now to stay two nights in a Sydney hotel room than I make in an entire year. I'm here because I think she writes cool songs lmao. Idk.

Lastly, obviously I am a fan who is biased in that sense. I'm not going to pretend I don't find criticism of any kind much more palatable when it comes from fans, to fans. If it's swifties talking on tumblr i am always up for dissenting opinions and discussion about pretty much any issue (as a goofy example, in terms of the "taylor swift writes immature music" comment, I couldn't give a single shit if a fan comes on here and posts about how they think ME! is an immature stupid song. It's a lot different when it's fans voicing opinions they recognize as just that, an opinion.)

When you get outside the fan community, it gets dicey, because people lob valid Taylor criticism around losey-goosey to mask the fact that they actually hated her to begin with and are grasping at the first thing in sight to get other people to hate her, too. It's very...transparent at times. Like, the people who incessantly complain about her jet usage whilst not talking about other celebrities who do the exact same shit, let alone the massive corporations systematically killing our planet, or who blatantly ignore things like the fact Taylor has actually cut down her jet usage substantially in the last year. They just pretend to care when it can knock the celebrity they already hate down a peg amongst twitter users, lmao.

Criticism is fine. I don't worship her! I just think, there's valid criticism and there isn't, you know?

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Looks Like She Made It

Sep. 28, 2022

“Sorry, I have to keep moving,” the country-pop legend Shania Twain says in the middle of our conversation, uncrossing her legs and stretching them out on the ivory sofa in front of her. Twain, who is the best-selling female country artist of all time, has just wrapped a photo shoot on the top floor of The Standard hotel, and she kicks off the Amina Muaddi platform stilettos she’s still wearing and drops an aside worthy of one of her sassy, universally beloved anthems: “It’s been a long day in these shoes.”

Of course, she says it in that famous, arched-eyebrow deadpan, the same one that launched a million bachelorette parties, karaoke nights, and drag shows with the rallying cry “Let’s go, girls.” At the height of her powers, on her 1997 global blockbuster album, Come On Over, Twain’s voice was at once withering enough to turn once-and-future Sexiest Man Alive Brad Pitt into a punchline (on her strutting send-up of the male ego, “That Don’t Impress Me Much”) and affecting enough to reduce an entire wedding guest list to tears (on timeless soft-rock ballads like “You’re Still the One” and “From This Moment On”). After a series of personal and professional setbacks, though — including illness that left her wondering whether she’d ever sing again — she nearly lost her voice for good.

That Twain is a fighter, though, is abundantly clear to anyone who has watched her recent Netflix documentary, Not Just a Girl. Or listened to her new song of the same name, which finds her triumphantly reclaiming that low, twangy croon of hers. Since she recovered from open-throat surgery in 2019, her voice has been feeling “way stronger,” she says, even if she’s accepted that it has undergone some changes. As she prepares to release her first new album in five years, she’s enjoyed getting reacquainted with her instrument. “I’ve had to relearn my voice in a lot of ways, because there are a lot of different elements to it that I didn’t even have before, that I play on and that I enjoy.”

Twain showcased her rich, resonant new sound in April, when Coachella headliner Harry Styles brought her out for an electric guest appearance at the festival. “In the car, with my mother as a child, this lady taught me to sing,” Styles gushed to a crowd of more than 100,000 people.

He added, to raucous cheers, “She also told me that men are trash.”

Styles honoring Twain in such public, headline-generating fashion crystallized something too often left unspoken: Twain’s massive influence on the current generation of pop stars. Twain paved the way for Taylor Swift’s country-to-pop crossover, of course, but artists as disparate as Rihanna, Post Malone, Rina Sawayama, Orville Peck, and Halsey have all claimed Twain as an inspiration.

“I admire her confidence in her path, because she really just loved bringing people together,” Maren Morris — a country star who knows a thing or two about pop crossovers herself — says in an email. “She owned her femininity, but she didn’t hide behind it either. She had the songs to back it up.”

The author Marissa R. Moss says Twain’s influence came up constantly in her interviews for her recently released book, Her Country: How the Women of Country Music Became the Success They Were Never Supposed to Be.

“When [artists like Morris, Miranda Lambert, and Mickey Guyton] were younger, Twain was a very empowering force,” Moss says. Not only for her straight-talking songwriting, but also for her embrace of fashion and her demand that her “visual expression be taken seriously as a part of the art form.” (Hello, iconic leopard-print catsuit.)

I was never a pushover, ever in my life.

“I didn’t realize it until these kids became young adults and were actually in the public eye, talking about it,” Twain says back at The Standard. She sips from one of the glasses of chilled champagne that an assistant has put in front of us so unobtrusively it seems to have manifested out of the ether. “When I crossed over [from country to pop], they were part of an age group that, on the way to school, had the music on repeat. Or maybe it was the music that, as a kid, they wanted on repeat, that sort of annoying, ‘Oh no, play that again!’”

Masked country singer Orville Peck, who collaborated with Shania on their 2020 duet “Legends Never Die,” says in the Netflix documentary, “She reached through the stereo and made me feel safe when I was a young kid.”He’s alluding to her ubiquity during that era, and to the fact that queer listeners have long been drawn to Twain’s music, with its infectious confidence and playful, campy take on gender. (In her lively 2011 autobiography, From This Moment On, Twain notes that the first seeds of inspiration for “Man! I Feel Like a Woman!” were planted in the mid-1980s, when she and her friends frequented Toronto’s gay bars and marveled at the local drag queens’ style.) As Katie Gavin, the lead singer and primary songwriter of the pop band Muna, told me in an email, Shania “has a really strong sense of self, and was probably so underestimated because of her genre and her gender, which queer people can definitely relate to.”

These days her influence is reciprocal, and Twain finds herself listening just as obsessively to the music of some of her disciples — Styles in particular. “I like the floating feeling the music gives off, this happy, peaceful, almost levitating feeling. And I love his voice, he’s a great vocalist.” Coachella was hardly the beginning of their friendship, though; Twain and Styles have been texting sporadically for years. After they met backstage at one of his early solo shows in New York City, Styles called Twain and asked if she would wish his mom a happy birthday. Naturally, she obliged. (Did Harry’s mum freak out? “No, she was very cool,” Twain says. “Very sweet and very cool.”)

Now 57, Twain is a petite but forceful presence: “I was never a pushover, ever in my life,” she says at one point in our conversation. She is exacting with her words, editing as she goes. Speaking of her early career, she tells me, “I took control wherever I could,” but then quickly revises. “Maybe control’s not the right word. I took charge. That’s way better. I took charge.”

That’s something she had to learn how to do long before she arrived in Nashville. Born Eileen Regina Edwards and raised mostly around Timmins, Ontario — a small city seven hours northwest of Toronto — Twain had the sort of hardscrabble childhood that made her relate deeply to the songs that Dolly Parton wrote about her own impoverished youth in the mountains of East Tennessee. When Twain was around four years old, her mother married Jerry Twain, a man of Ojibwa descent; young Eileen took his last name and recognized him as her father for the rest of her life. (“Stepfather, stepbrothers, we never used that vocabulary in our home,” Twain once said.) Their marriage was abusive, though, and from a young age, Eileen witnessed her father’s physical and emotional violence toward her mother. Her parents split up briefly when Eileen was a teenager — the so-called “Twain Gang” of four of her five siblings temporarily relocated to a women’s shelter in Toronto — but they eventually reconciled. Tragically, in 1987, Twain’s parents both died in a car accident while driving to bring food supplies to a camp at their reforestation company. At 22, Twain was suddenly the head of the household, left to support her three younger siblings.

She had been singing songs in local bars long before she could have been served there, and, after her parents’ passings, she found a steady gig performing at Deerhurst Resort in Ontario’s version of Vegas. There, she met a wardrobe mistress with a mellifluous name she’d never heard before, and which she’d later borrow as a stage name, Shania. Someone told her it meant “on my way,” and sure enough, she was: An influential music attorney saw her perform at Deerhurst and got her demo tape into the right hands. She was offered a deal if she’d move to Nashville. So she packed up her pickup and drove south, her first time leaving Canada.

The music industry loves a naive ingenue — the better to exploit you, my dear — but by the time she arrived in Music City, Twain had already survived more tribulations than most people do in a lifetime. “I think the maturity did help a lot,” she tells me now. “They didn’t mold me. I just showed up and I was already who I wanted to be. I was a bit older so I was not impressionable at that point. It was too late. I was already fully formed. I was open, but I was convinced of what I was made of and what were my greatest inspirations.”

Those inspirations included Parton and Willie Nelson, but also the glamorous and sensual Madonna, the hard-rocking, ass-kicking sisters of Heart. The Nashville of the early 1990s was not exactly a playground for cross-genre experimentation, though — especially if you were a woman. Recalls Twain, “I thought I was walking into a much more all-encompassing space, artistically.” Her first music video, for “What Made You Say That,” featured a gloriously early-’90s look that revealed, as she puts it in her autobiography, “maybe four inches” of midriff. Apparently this was enough to set off an epidemic of pearl clutching in Nashville: CMT briefly refused to play the video at all. (Adds Maren Morris, recalling this incident, “People were such prudes.”)

“There’s this belief that to be here in Nashville, you have to be constantly paying your dues in a very specific way,” says Moss. “You’re supposed to be humble, especially if you’re a woman — or God forbid a Black artist or a queer artist. You have to follow every mark on the path to ‘authenticity’ to even have a chance to be considered country enough for Music Row.”

Suffice it to say that didn’t impress Shania Twain much. Her clear-eyed confidence, unapologetic sexuality, and ownership of her artistic vision had a way of rankling the suits. “To me, [writing] was everything,” she says, recalling her dismay when she realized that she wasn’t expected to write her own material, especially as a female artist. “I’m like, ‘Are you kidding?’”

So she started working on some of her own songs, not with the usual squad of country songwriters but with a rock producer who’d gotten in contact with her out of the blue, Mutt Lange. Nobody at her label knew she was writing songs (let alone with Lange) until it was too late to turn back. “I’m like, ‘If I lose my deal, I lose my deal,’” Twain says. “That’s how convinced I was that it was time to make something more original.”

Her first single to reach No. 1 on country radio was “Any Man of Mine,” co-written with Lange, from her 1995 album, The Woman in Me. “Any Man” is flirtatious but assertive — a grown-ass woman’s come-hither song. “Any man of mine better disagree when I say another woman’s lookin’ better than me,” she sings amid a boot-stomping beat and a flurry of fiddles. “And when I cook him dinner and I burn it black, he better say, ‘Mmm, I like it like that.’” It was her first true hit, and she was about to turn 30, which gave her songs a lived-in, no-more-bullshit realism. Twain hadn’t needed to look far for a man who fit her description, though; after a whirlwind romance, in December 1993, she and Lange married.

Record executives didn’t mold me. I just showed up and I was already who I wanted to be.

Like CD-ROMs, the Spice Girls, and VH1’s Behind the Music, it is impossible to explain to someone born after the 1990s what an unavoidable cultural phenomenon Twain’s next album, Come on Over, was in the latter part of that decade. It was basically the Rumours of the CD era. Its seemingly endless run of 12 singles — on a 16-track album! — helped it sell more than 40 million copies worldwide. It is still one of the best-selling records of all time, which means it probably made some of the people who’d initially been skeptical of Twain’s vision a hell of a lot of money.

At least it made Twain and Lange buy-a-mansion-in-Switzerland money, which is exactly what they did. (“I think there were a lot of people who resented her for doing that and thought she was saying she was too good for Nashville or country music or something,” Moss says. She adds, “A lot of people take things personally here, strangely.”) Twain’s next album, 2002’s Up!, was also a huge success — it made her the first and only female artist in history to have three consecutive diamond-selling records in the United States — but after the 2001 birth of her son, Eja, Twain felt she’d earned a small retreat from the spotlight, making a quieter domestic life in a country where her every move wasn’t tabloid fodder.

Unfortunately, melodrama found her anyway. In 2008, she discovered that Lange was having an affair… with her best friend. They divorced shortly afterward, sending Twain into a tailspin of depression. “When I lost Mutt,” she says in the Netflix documentary, “the grief of that was similarly intense to losing my parents. It was like a death — a permanent end to so many facets of my life.”

As shattering as the breakup was, she had an even greater trial to endure around that time: the loss of her voice. “I don’t think I’ll ever meet a challenge like that again,” Twain tells me. When she first started experiencing dysphonia — a condition in which the vocal cords seize up and the voice becomes hoarse — she wasn’t sure what was going on. She later learned it was likely a somewhat rare long-term side effect of Lyme disease, which she contracted in 2003.

These were some of the darkest days of Twain’s life, and in the documentary she admits she didn’t “see any point in going on with a music career.” But in 2012, an unexpected opportunity arose: Lionel Richie, who didn’t realize Twain was struggling with dysphonia, asked her to appear on an upcoming duets album. He wanted to sing “Endless Love” with her, but Twain initially turned him down, doubting that her voice would be strong enough. Richie was persistent enough that she finally gave it a shot. “I had to be very vulnerable. I didn’t want to do it — I was like, ‘Would somebody just push me over the edge?’ But only I could jump off it.”

Working with Richie gave her the confidence to launch her spectacular Vegas residency, Shania: Still the One, and release her first studio album in 15 years, 2017’s Now. By the end of the Nowtour, though, her voice was beyond fatigued. “I realized I couldn’t physically sustain the vocal workout I had to do every day,” she says. A doctor had been telling her for years about a drastic option that might help: open-throat surgery. Once again, she leapt.

“Not knowing what I was going to sound like when I was able to speak again was really scary,” Twain says. After the operation, she was instructed not to make a sound for three weeks. “The anticipation was crazy,” she recalls. “It wasn’t the three weeks of silence, it was the three weeks of waiting to see if it worked.” Happily, she was pleased with the results. “I was like, ‘Oh, my God, I can yell! I can be loud!’ It was so glorious.”

The story of her divorce has a happy — if wild — ending, too. Twain and Frédéric Thiébaud, the former husband of the woman Lange cheated with, comforted each other through their respective heartbreaks, fell in love, and got married. Thiébaud is there at The Standard for the photo shoot, flitting around in sneakers and a hoodie, making sure everyone on set is taken care of and, adorably, sneaking photos on his phone of each one of Twain’s looks like a doting Instagram husband.

Twain, Thiébaud, and his daughter still live in Switzerland, but Vegas has been Twain’s home away from home for the past few years, during her second residency. She appreciates the glitz as much as the next person, as well as the access to nature. “Vegas has a big personality, but it’s a very small city, so you can be out of the city very quickly,” she says. “All of a sudden you’re in the desert, and you’re hiking in the canyons. So I can spend my time there outside of the Strip, as if all of the party doesn’t even exist, and I really love that.”

I was like, ‘Would somebody just push me over the edge?’ But only I could jump off it.

Twain tells me she’s still in contact with Lange: “We raise our son together,” she says, though that’s less of a full-time job since 21-year-old Eja moved to Los Angeles. Again, she seems to choose her words carefully. “We don’t work together anymore,” she says of her ex-husband. “But we’re very… in proximity.”

Now was the first album she made without Lange since her debut, and though she felt “intact creatively,” she was haunted by old, sexist rumors that Lange had written all the songs himself. Making her forthcoming album, her second without Lange, was a more carefree experience. “I wanted there to be joy in it, I wanted it to be very uplifting sonically,” she says. “There’s a lot of cheekiness, a lot of bold, tongue-in-cheek humor, which I’m never afraid of anyway.”

Twain exercises that signature prerogative to have a little fun on her new single, the upbeat pop tune “Waking Up Dreaming.” The music video answers the song’s call to “dress up crazy like superstars,” as Twain embodies a glam-rock goddess, a hair metal star, and a diva in the style of Uma Thurman as Poison Ivy. She promises that a new album and tour are soon to follow.

Twain also just made a guest appearance on Fox’s new country music drama series Monarch, which stars Susan Sarandon and Trace Adkins. As she did (hilariously) on a 2017 episode of Broad City, Twain played a cartoonish version of herself. Both roles have made her “realize it’s fun to laugh at myself and not take Shania so seriously,” she says. Of her delightfully catty turn as Sarandon’s character’s longtime rival, Twain adds, “Take the persona out of context, if you will — I would never act like that for real! But that’s what makes it fun.”

A sense of possibility is once again opening up for Twain. “I’m having more fun with fashion than I did when I was younger,” she says. “Maybe with age I’m just less apologetic for how I look and I let fashion do its job.” She hints that there might someday be a sequel to that Coachella performance. She says of Styles, “He wanted to do a couple of my songs, and that was good and fun. But I just love his music too, so maybe I’ll do the reverse and get him up on my stage to do his songs.”

As ever, Twain is looking ahead. “From a very young age, I had to let a lot roll off my back,” she says, once again stretching her legs to get the blood flowing. “Fear, my insecurities. These are things that are not allowed to get in the way of my dreams and my forward motion.”

Top Image Credit: Carolina Herrera dress, Stetson hat, Nikos Koulis earrings, De Beers necklace, Alaïa belt courtesy of FWRD, talent’s own briefs, Falke tights, Amina Muaddi boots

Photographer: Beau Grealy

Stylist: Tiffany Reid

Hair: Frankie Foye

Makeup: Susana Hong

Manicure: Mo Qin

Production: Kiara Brown

Talent Bookings: Special Projects

Video: Jasmine Velez

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Female Artists Fighting For Their Due Are Not Being Greedy; They’re Defending the Futures of Their Industries

Both Swift and Johansson have incited high profile disputes, and both have been called by critics the “wrong person” to serve as the figurehead for the big picture arguments based on how much money they make... Actually, it makes them the best voices for their causes.

"Scarlett Johansson" by Gage Skidmore is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0 (left). "File:191125 Taylor Swift at the 2019 American Music Awards (cropped).png" by Cosmopolitan UK is licensed under CC BY 3.0 (right)

In May of 2010, Iron Man 2 introduced Scarlett Johansson’s Black Widow to the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

A few months later, Netflix—whose subscribers were, in majority, still receiving DVDs—began offering a standalone streaming subscription independent from its DVD rentals. It wasn’t until nearly ten years later that Disney, parent company of Marvel Entertainment, would launch its own streaming service, Disney+. And in 2021, after three pandemic-related delays, Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff’s solo film which fans had been demanding for 11 years, was finally released.

The long-awaited film garnered $80 million in North American theaters during its opening weekend, more than any other film released during the pandemic era. (In comparison, MCU’s last pre-pandemic release, Spider-Man: Far From Home, made $185 million). Because of the somewhat mercurial state of indoor gatherings around the world, Disney chose to make Black Widow available simultaneously in theaters and for an additional $30 fee for Disney+ subscribers. After opening weekend, in an unprecedented move in streaming service transparency, Disney revealed the film had grossed $60 million through Disney+’s Premier Access feature.

The next weekend, the film suffered a 67% drop in box office sales. Disney has not since released streaming numbers.

Within a month, news broke that Johansson was suing Disney over the film’s hybrid release. Her suit claims that her contract for the film guaranteed an exclusively theatrical release and that her compensation was largely tied to box office revenue, which was impacted by the film’s simultaneous availability on Disney+. The breach of contract is a serious allegation against the company, and it comes from the embodiment of one of the longest-standing pillars of its most successful franchise.

Disney’s response? Make her the bad guy. Paint her as the greedy, insensitive Hollywood prima donna. Publish her salary to prove it, despite a policy of “never publicly disclos[ing] salaries or deal terms.” And blame the pandemic.

In a statement, the company claimed Johansson’s suit had “no merit whatsoever” and called it “especially sad and distressing in its callous disregard for the horrific and prolonged global effects of the COVID-19 pandemic.”

Their argument here is twofold: 1) the pandemic prevented them from releasing the movie in theaters, and 2) she should be happy with the millions she has already gotten.

We have all had to make concessions due to the pandemic, albeit most of us on a smaller scale. But Disney’s sudden overwhelming concern for public health and safety is less than convincing. Their claim that they couldn’t have released the film in theaters proves baseless on account of it, well, being released in theaters. What they seemingly meant was that the pandemic meant a smaller payday from movie theaters, so they found an additional method of distributing the film that just so happened to free them of the obligation of splitting its revenue with the star, not to mention movie theater companies.

Appealing to the sympathies of the billions of people in the world who can’t even fathom the amount of money Johansson and her movie star peers earn for each film they make is a slightly smarter move. After all, a jury who decides whether she wins her case will likely consist of non-millionaires who may be biased against a woman who out-earns them by two or three digits. Regardless of the amount of money in question or the wealth of the individual, a deal is a deal, and a written contract is legally binding. The bottom line is that Disney failed to honor the agreed-upon contingencies (ie. a theatrical release). Not to mention, this argument expects us to forget that Disney itself is a conglomerate worth hundreds of billions of dollars, hardly a poor, innocent victim of a rich woman’s greed.

In fact, Disney’s mentioning of “the $20 million she has received to date” only broadens the scope in Johansson’s favor. She is a Tony winner, two-time Oscar nominee, and one of the highest-grossing actors in box office history. If she retired today, her entire family would be able to live a life of luxury for generations to come without having to work a day. So why nitpick over the extra $50 million or so she could have earned with a theaters-only release, cause a Hollywood-sized fuss, and risk the company dragging her name through the mud, as they so predictably did?

Let’s ask Taylor Swift. The singer-songwriter shot to international superstardom in 2008, making her the face of pop music. In recent years, she has fiercely advocated for artists’ rights after experiencing her own long and ultimately failed attempt to buy back her master recordings from Big Machine Label Group, which was acquired by music manager Scooter Braun in 2019.

Similarly, Johansson’s representatives attempted to reach out to Disney after the announcement of Black Widow’s hybrid release, which could possibly have amended their agreement and avoided the lawsuit altogether. But, like Swift, she was ignored.

Swift famously writes her own music, often from her own experiences. Scott Borchetta, founder of Big Machine, claims that she had the opportunity to own her masters, but, from both his account and Swift’s, the offer was contingent upon her staying with the company. Seeing as doing business with his company was what landed her in this situation, she was not willing to accept this condition, nor did she later accept Braun’s offer to buy back her music, a deal from which Braun would have profited and which came with its own condition: an NDA.

Her claim that Braun’s deal “stripped [her] of [her] life’s work” ignited a highly publicized feud not just between Swift and Braun but between their friends, loyalists, and supporters. Swift’s team shared her stance on artists’ rights while Braun’s defended his nice guy image. Braun himself didn’t comment, instead allowing his allies to take shots at the singer. His wife, Yael Cohen Braun, in an Instagram post referred to Swift as a “bully” and to her claim as a “temper tantrum,” telling her, “the world has watched you collect and drop friends like wilted flowers.” Justin Bieber, a client of Braun’s, suggested Swift's intention when expressing her disgust over the deal was “to get sympathy.”

Even after selling her masters to a private equity firm for $300 million in November 2020, Braun continues to profit off every CD and every stream of every song from every one of the six studio albums Swift recorded while she was signed with Big Machine, an agreement she first entered into at age 15.

Where Johansson is clearly in the right legally, Swift is morally right. Borshetta and Braun were under no legal obligation to sell her the rights to the songs she wrote and created, but they should have.

Both Swift and Johansson have incited high profile disputes, and both have been called by critics the “wrong person” to serve as the figurehead for the big picture arguments based on how much money they make. Two multi-millionaires are hardly the best representatives of the little guy trying to make it in the entertainment industry. It’s no skin off either of their noses if they don’t revolutionize the way artists and actors are paid.

Actually, it makes them the best voices for their causes. The millions of dollars at stake in each of their deals, while massive amounts to the average onlooker, would be a drop in the bucket of their wealth. Yes, they both have huge platforms and established fanbases they can use to garner support, but the fact that they have no skin in the game is their real strength. They don’t need the money, which proves they’re not doing it for themselves.

Disney is trying to hide behind the pandemic to defend its decision to release Black Widow on Disney+, but the issue was present even before the pandemic started, evident in Johansson’s agreement that the film have an exclusively theatrical release. Her suit claims she insisted upon this contingency when the streaming service was launched.

Streaming changed the game. Johansson is likely not the only one to have lost out on media companies’ failure to compensate talent fairly in the wake of the streaming evolution, but she is the first to draw the amount of attention to it that she has. Her claim opens the eyes of fellow actors, film distributors, and the public to an issue that extends beyond her: if the film industry is capable of adapting their content to this new source of distribution, then they can accommodate the role of actors into the changing environment and pay them, and other individuals who make their films possible, what they’re owed.

Record companies can stand to shake things up, too. Contracts that grant an artist’s masters to the labels that produce their music, such as the one Swift signed with Big Machine in 2004, are the norm in the music industry. Hers is far from the first battle to be fought by artists over the rights to their own music. There was the famous Paul McCartney v. Prince debacle in the 1980s, for example. In most cases, revenue is doled out to the label, the producers, the managers, and, last and least, the artists. It’s a system that assumes the performers are just lucky to be there, to have the opportunity to become the next Taylor Swift.

But streaming isn’t just for the movies—it’s changing the music game, too. Artists used to be entirely dependent on record companies to promote their music and get it into the hands of radio stations, but streaming sites and social media have allowed artists to release music independently. Working with a record company is still highly advantageous to an up-and-coming artist, but the other options available to them leave some breathing room for an artist to negotiate and retain the rights to their own music.

So, will wins for Swift and Johansson mean making two rich people richer? Yes. But it also starts a conversation. It gets the word out to young artists and actors that they should expect more from the publishers and executives they work with. And it sends a message to CEOs and big corporations: change with the times.

Since leaving Big Machine, Swift has signed with Universal Music Publishing Group in an agreement that guarantees her the rights to the music she creates with them, from Lover on. She is also in the process of re-recording her first six albums, an endeavor that began with Fearless (Taylor’s Version) in April and will continue with the scheduled release of Red (Taylor’s Version) in November.

“Hopefully, young artists or kids with musical dreams will read this and learn about how to better protect themselves in a negotiation,” Swift wrote in a post. “You deserve to own the art you make.”

[whaler13bg]

The fascinating thing about Taylor is that she built her brand, music, and stardom herself. She started with a simple Myspace page, where she built a platform that fostered a one-to-one connection with fans because she intuitively understood that this would accelerate her brand reach. She responded personally to each and every comment that she received on that platform. And any time she would get a request for an autograph or a photo she would comply. Taylor once even did a thirteen-hour meet-and-greet session—which turned into seventeen hours—where she personally signed autographs for and took selfies with three thousand fans. She knew that every fan who stood and waited in line to receive an autograph or photo would be a fan—and brand advocate—for life. These brand advocates would spread and share her music and message with all their friends. Even though Taylor ended up physically meeting only three thousand people, she probably reached around a hundred thousand people that day. Each interaction she had was not limited to a single moment: fans would not only tell their friends about it but would also post images, autographs, and videos that they took at the event on their own social channels. The average Facebook user has 338 friends, so if each of her fans shared those images she could potentially reach up to 1,014,000 people. Fans would go out and spread the word for her. They’d tell all their friends and social connections, “I love Taylor Swift!” or “I just got this awesome photo or autograph.” Taylor still makes time for events like this. She attends fans’ birthday parties, weddings, and bridal showers. In 2014 she showed up at a bunch of fans’ houses with Christmas gifts and more than eighteen million people viewed the videos of the Christmas gift deliveries. In 2017 she invited select groups of fans to her homes in London, Los Angeles, Nashville, and Rhode Island for listening parties of her sixth studio album, Reputation. These kinds of events are Taylor’s ways of giving back to her fans, while generating massive attention and interest. This works for her because she’s genuine. She doesn’t just do this to manipulate the system. Not only is she smart, talented, and appreciative of her fans’ time, she has a good heart. And it’s this heart that has fostered brand loyalty, which grows like wildfire. Yet Taylor can only be in so many places at once. In the beginning of her career she was living in Nashville. Although she could have an autograph signing and connect with three thousand fans in that location, she couldn’t always make time for fans in other parts of the world. Her fans in New York, London, China, Hong Kong, India, and Japan were not able to connect with her. By focusing on her online presence, however, she could connect with people all around the world—and quickly. Before meeting with my team, Taylor had spent around $75,000 to $150,000 on an all-Flash website that required two days to make a change every time she wanted to update it. When I looked at the analytics, people were spending less than thirty seconds on the website, and 90 percent of people were bouncing off the homepage as soon as they landed on it. I wanted Taylor to maximize the potential of her website, to go back to the fundamental idea behind her brand—one-to-one interactions. With the right strategy, she could leverage her website to foster stronger connections among her fans. My pitch was that with the technology platform my team developed, we could build an entirely new site on spec for her in six hours. In a meeting, I showed her how we could dynamically change any element of the website in real time. She could change the background, move the navigation, change out the navigation, and control every element of that website, which gave her the power and creativity to constantly evolve how she wanted to express herself to fans. For example, every time she launched a new album, she could quickly redesign the entire website within minutes to match the aesthetic of the new album. This ability to rapidly change the website allowed her to foster a more powerful connection with her fans by allowing her to express herself how she wanted, when she wanted, in the same way she was able to on Myspace early in her career. Over the course of two years, using the platform my team built along with some brilliant community-building technology platforms that we partnered with, we collectively took the time that fans spent on her website from less than thirty seconds to more than twenty-two minutes. How did we create such an uptick in time spent on her site? By giving fans a reason to stay there. We facilitated communication between the fans because we realized that Taylor herself could only talk to so many fans at once. So we built a  community where fans could communicate with each other about their love for Taylor and her music. We also built a system where fans could turn their Facebook profiles into Taylor Swift fan sites in less than sixty seconds. It automatically extracted fans’ names and photos along with Taylor’s photos and album covers so they could have their very own fan sites. The fan sites were built on the same technology platform we used in creating Taylor’s website, so fans were able to customize and personalize all the elements of a fan site. Fans felt connected to Taylor, as if they were a part of her team—they could use the same platform that she was using and take any aspect of it and recreate it themselves. In a few months, more than thirty-five thousand fan sites were created using this platform. I don’t have exact figures, but I’m sure this was a record for the most fan sites ever created for a specific artist at the time. Witnessing how well fostering stronger connections with fans worked for Taylor’s brand planted a seed in my head. I learned that if fans felt connected, they were willing to share content, messages, and products with everyone they knew. Once I realized the power of this, it became a critical part of my whole approach. I realized that you don’t need to spend millions of dollars on marketing to reach the masses—you just have to get people to share your messages for you.

One Million Followers: How I Built a Massive Social Following in 30 Days by Brendan Kane

[path-of-my-childhood]

Taylor Swift Bent the Music Industry to Her Will

By: Lindsay Zoladz for Vulture Date: December 30th 2019

In the 2010s, she became its savviest power player.

n late November 2019, Taylor Swift gave a career-spanning performance at the American Music Awards before accepting the statue for Artist of the Decade. (Swift was perhaps the perfect cross between the award’s two previous recipients, Britney Spears and Garth Brooks.) Clad in a cascading rose-colored cape and holding court among the younger female artists in attendance - 17-year-old Billie Eilish, 22-year-old Camila Cabello, 25-year-old Halsey - Swift had the queenly air of an elder stateswoman. After picking up five additional awards, including Artist of the Year, she became the show’s most decorated artist in history. “This is such a great year in music. The new artists are insane,” she declared in her acceptance speech, with big-sister gravitas. That night, she finally outgrew that “Who, me?” face of perpetual awards-show surprise; she accepted the honors she won like an artist who believed she had worked hard enough to deserve them.

Swift cut an imposing adult figure up there, because somewhere along the line she’d become one. The 2010s have coincided almost exactly with Swift’s 20s, with the subtle image changes and maturations across her last five album cycles coming to look like an Animorphs cover of a savvy and talented young woman gradually growing into her power. And so to reflect on the Decade in Taylor Swift is to assess not just her sonic evolutions but her many industry chess moves: She took Spotify to task in a Wall Street Journal op-ed and got Apple to reverse its policy of not paying artists royalties during a three-month free trial of its music-streaming service. She sued a former radio DJ for allegedly groping her during a photo op and demanded just a symbolic victory of $1, as if to say the money wasn’t the point. Critics wondered whether she was leaning too heavily on her co-writers, so she wrote her entire 2010 album, Speak Now, herself, without any collaborators. In 2018, she severed ties with her longtime label, Big Machine Records, and negotiated a new contract with Universal Music Group that gave her ownership of her masters and assurance that she (and any other artist on the label) would be paid out if UMG ever sold its Spotify shares. Yes, she stoked the flames of her celebrity feuds with Kanye West, Kim Kardashian West, and Katy Perry plenty over the past ten years, but she’s also focused some of her combative energy on tackling systemic problems and fashioning herself into something like the music industry’s most high-profile vigilante. Few artists have made royalty payments and the minutiae of entertainment-law front-page news as often as Swift has.

Within the industry, Swift has always had the reputation of being something of a songwriting savant (in 2007, when “Our Song” was released, then-17-year-old Swift became the youngest person ever to write and perform a No. 1 song on the Billboard Country chart), but she has long desired to be considered an industry power player, too. A 2011 New Yorker profile of Swift circa her blockbuster Speak Now World Tour noted that she initially intended to follow her parents’ footsteps and pursue a career in business, quoting her saying, “I didn’t know what a stockbroker was when I was 8, but I would just tell everybody that’s what I was going to be.” In an even earlier interview, she fondly recalled the times in elementary school when she stayed up late with her mother, practicing for school presentations. “I’m sick of women not being able to say that they have strategic business minds - because male artists are allowed to,” she said this year in an unusually candid Rolling Stone interview. “And I’m so sick and tired of having to pretend like I don’t mastermind my own business.” Of course, she still spent plenty of time sitting at her piano or strumming her guitar, but in that conversation she painted herself as someone who is also “sit[ting] in a conference room several times a week,” coming up with ideas about how best to market her music and her career.

And so over the past decade, Swift’s face has appeared not just on magazine covers and television screens, but on UPS trucks and Amazon packages. Her songs have been featured in Target commercials and NFL spots, to name just two of her many lucrative partnerships. That New Yorker profile also found her to be uncommonly enthused about the fact that her CDs were being sold in Starbucks: “I was so stoked about it, because it’s been one of my goals - I always go into Starbucks, and I wished that they would sell my album.”

“Taylor Swift is something like the Sheryl Sandberg of pop music,” Hazel Cills wrote recently in Jezebel. “She has propelled her career from tiny country artist into pop machine over the past few years with little shame when it comes to corporate collaborators.” Such brazen femme-capitalism will always be a turnoff to some people (“the Sheryl Sandberg of pop music” is even less of a compliment in 2019 than it was when Lean In was first published), but it’s undeniable that it has helped Swift maintain and leverage her status as a commercial juggernaut more consistently than any other pop star over the past ten years.

In the 2010s, with the clockwork certainty of a midterm election, there was a Taylor Swift album every other autumn. (Yes, there was a three-year gap between 1989 and Reputation, but she all but made up for it with the quick timing of August’s Lover.) The kinds of pop superstars considered her peers did not stick to such rigid schedules: Adele released two studio albums this decade, Beyoncé released three, and even Rihanna - who for the first three years of the decade was averaging an album a year - eventually slowed her roll and will have released just four when the 2010s are all said and done. The only A-plus-list musician who saturated the market as steadily as Swift did this decade was Drake.

Still, Drake’s commercial dominance was more of a newfangled phenomenon, capitalizing on the industry’s sudden reliance on streaming and his massive popularity on platforms like Spotify and Apple Music. Drake might be the artist who rode the streaming wave most successfully this decade, but - with her strategic withholding of her albums from certain platforms until they better compensated artists - Swift was often the one bending it to her will. And she could do that because she didn’t need to rely on it solely: Somehow, against all odds, Taylor Swift still sold records. Like, gazillions of them. When Swift’s 2017 record, Reputation (some critics thought it was a critical misstep, but it certainly wasn’t a commercial one), moved 1.216 million units in its first seven days, Swift became the only artist in history to achieve four different million-selling weeks. And, of course, all four of these weeks came during a decade when traditional album sales were on a precipitous decline. At least for those mere mortals who were not an all-powerful being named Taylor Alison Swift.

“Female empowerment” has been such an ambient, unquestioned virtue of the pop culture of this decade that we have too often failed to take a step back and ask ourselves what sort of power is being advocated for, and if its attainment should always be a cause for celebration. Is “female empowerment” any different from the hollow, materialistic promises of the late ’90s “girl power”? Is “female power” inherently different or more benevolent than its default male counterpart? Maybe this feels like such a distinctly American hang-up because we have not yet experienced that mythic, oft-imagined figure of the First Female President, and have thus not had to contend with the cold reality that, whoever she is, she will, like all of us, be inevitably flawed, imperfect, and at least occasionally disappointing.

As she’s grown into her own brand of 21st-century American pop feminism - sometimes elegantly, sometimes gawkily - Swift seems to have come to a firm conviction that female power is essentially more virtuous than the male variety. This was a side of herself she celebrated in her AMA performance. Swift opened her medley with a few fiery bars of “The Man,” her own personalized daydream of what gender equality would look like: “I’m so sick of running as fast as I can,” she sings, “wondering if I’d get there quicker if I was a man.” She wore an oversize white button-down onto which the titles of her old albums were stamped in a correctional-facility font: SPEAK NOW, RED, 1989, REPUTATION. Plenty of the millions of people who scrutinize Swift’s every move interpreted her choice of outfit and song as not-so-subtle jabs at Big Machine’s Scott Borchetta and the manager-to-the-stars Scooter Braun, with whom Swift is still in a messy, uncommonly public battle over the fate of her master recordings. (The only album title missing from her outfit was “LOVER,” which happens to be the only one of which she has full ownership.) She has framed the terms of her battle with Borchetta and Braun in strikingly gendered language: “These are two very rich, very powerful men, using $300 million of other people’s money to purchase, like, the most feminine body of work,” she told Rolling Stone. “And then they’re standing in a wood-panel bar doing a tacky photo shoot, raising a glass of Scotch to themselves.” Though she is herself a very rich, very powerful woman, she reads their message to be unquestionably condescending: Be a good little girl and shut up.

It is true that many record contracts are designed to take advantage of young artists, and that young women and people of color are probably perceived by music executives to be the marks most vulnerable to exploitation. But it is also true that Swift signed a legally binding contract, the kind that a businesswoman like herself would have to respect if it were signed by somebody else. Braun, who has been asking to have these negotiations in private rather than on Twitter, claims to have received death threats from her fans.

Even as she’s grown into one of the most dominant pop-culture figures in the world, Swift sometimes still seems to be clinging to her old underdog identity, to the extent that she can fail to grasp the magnitude of her own power or account for the blind spots of her privilege. “Someday I’ll be big enough so you can’t hit me,” she sang on Speak Now’s Grammy-winning 2010 single “Mean,” seemingly oblivious to the fact that, compared to 99.99 percent of the population, she already was. The mid-decade backlash to Swift’s thin-white-celebrity-and-model-studded “girl squad” - none of which was more incisive than Lara Marie Schoenhals’s hilarious parody video - took her by surprise. “I never would have imagined that people would have thought, This is a clique that wouldn’t have accepted me if I wanted to be in it... I thought it was going to be we can still stick together, just like men are allowed to.”

“Female power” is not automatically faultless, and can of course be tainted by all other sorts of biases and assumptions about class, race, and sexual orientation, to name just a few more common pitfalls. Swift’s face-palm-inducing 2015 misunderstanding with Nicki Minaj revealed this, of course, and plenty of people felt that her sudden embrace of the LGBTQ community in the “You Need to Calm Down” was a clumsy overcorrection for her past silence. Maybe she would have gotten where she was quicker if she were a man. But it would take a more complicated, and perhaps less catchy, song to acknowledge she might not have gotten there at all had she not also enjoyed other privileges.

Art has its own kind of power - sneakier and harder to measure than the economic kind. The reason Taylor Swift has been worth talking about incessantly for an entire decade is that she continues to wield this kind, too. “I don’t think her commercial responsibilities detract from her genuine passion for her craft,” a then-17-year-old Tavi Gevinson wrote in a memorable 2013 essay for The Believer. “Have you ever watched her in interviews when she gets asked about her actual songwriting? She becomes that kid who’s really into the science fair.”

After so much industry drama, much of the lived-in, self-reflective Lover is a simple reminder that Swift was and still is a singular songwriter. Yes, this was the decade of such loud, flashy missteps as “Look What You Made Me Do,” “Welcome to New York,” and “Me!,” but it was also a decade of so many quieter triumphs: the pulsing synesthesia of “Red,” the nervous heart flutter of “Delicate,” the sleek sophistication of “Style,” the concise lyricism of “Mean,” the cathartic fun of “22,” the slow-dance swoon of “Lover.” But like so many of her fans, and even Swift herself, I still find the most enduringly powerful song she’s ever written to be “All Too Well,” the smoldering breakup scrapbook released on her great 2012 album Red. “Wind in my hair, I was there, I remember it all too well,” she sings, an innocent enough lyric that, by the end of the song, comes to glint like a switchblade. In a decade of DGAF, ghosting, and performative chill, remembering it all too well might be Swift’s stealthiest superpower. She felt it deeply, can still access that feeling whenever she needs to, and that means she can size you up in a line as concisely cutting as “so casually cruel in the name of being honest.” Forget Jake Gyllenhaal or John Mayer. That’s the sort of observation that would bring Goliath to his knees.

“It is still the case that when listeners hear a female voice, they do not hear a voice that connotes authority,” the historian Mary Beard writes in her manifesto Women & Power, “or rather they have not learned how to hear authority in it.” At least in the realm of pop music, Swift has spent the better part of her decade chipping away at that double standard, and teaching people how to think about cultural power a little bit differently. She sprinkled artful emblems of teen-girl-speak through her smash hits (“Uhhh he calls me and he’s like, ‘I still love you,’ and I’m like, ‘This is exhausting, we are never getting back together, like, ever”) and did not abandon her effusive love of kittens and butterflies in order to be taken seriously. As an artist and a businesswoman, she made the power of teen girls - and the women who used to be them - that much more perilous to ignore. Because they’ve been there all along, and they remember all too well.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

In serving big company interests, copyright is in crisis

Copyright rules are made with the needs of the entertainment industry in mind, designed to provide the legal framework for creators, investors, distributors, production houses, and other parts of the industry to navigate their disputes and assert their interests.

A good copyright policy would be one that encouraged diverse forms of expression from diverse creators who were fairly compensated for their role in a profitable industry. But copyright has signally failed to accomplish this end, largely because of the role it plays in the monopolization of the entertainment industry (and, in the digital era, every industry where copyrighted software plays a role). Copyright's primary approach is to give creators monopolies over their works, in the hopes that they can use these as leverage in overmatched battles with corporate interests. But monopolies have a tendency to accumulate, piling up in the vaults of big companies, who use these government-backed exclusive rights to dominate the industry so that anyone hoping to enter it must first surrender their little monopolies to the hoards of the big gatekeepers.

Creators get a raw deal in a concentrated marketplace, selling their work into a buyer's market. Giving them more monopolies – longer copyright terms, copyright over the "feel" of music, copyright over samples – just gives the industry more monopolies to confiscate in one-sided negotiations and add to their arsenals. Expecting more copyright to help artists beat a concentrated industry is like expecting more lunch money to help your kid defeat the bullies who beat him up on the playground every day. No matter how much lunch money you give that kid, all you'll ever do is make the bullies richer.

One of the biggest problems with copyright in the digital era is that we expect people who aren't in the entertainment industry to understand and abide by its rules: it's no more realistic to expect a casual reader to understand and abide by a long, technical copyright license in order to enjoy a novel than it is to expect a parent to understand securities law before they pay their kid's allowance. Copyright law can either be technical and nuanced enough to serve as a rulebook for a vast, complex industry...or it can be simple and intuitive enough for that industry's customers to grasp and follow without years of specialized training. Decades of trying to make copyright into a system for both industrial actors and their audiences has demonstrated that the result is always a system that serves the former while bewildering and confounding the latter.

But even considered as a rulebook for the entertainment industry, copyright is in crisis. A system that is often promoted as protecting the interests of artists has increasingly sidelined creators' interests even as big media companies merge with one another, and with other kinds of companies (like ISPs) to form vertical monopolies that lock up the production, distribution and commercialization of creative work, leaving creators selling their work into a buyer's market locked up by a handful of companies.

2019 was not a good year for competition in the entertainment sector. Mergers like the $71.3B Disney-Fox deal reduced the number of big movie studios from five (already a farcical number) to four (impossibly, even worse). The Hollywood screenwriters have been locked in a record-breaking strike with the talent agencies—there are only three major agencies, all dominated by private equity investors, and the lack of competition means that they increasingly are negotiating deals on behalf of writers in which they agree to accept less money for writers in exchange for large fees for themselves.

On top of that, the big entertainment companies are increasingly diversifying and becoming distribution channels. The Trump administration approved the AT&T/Time-Warner merger just as the Obama administration approved the Universal/Comcast merger a decade earlier. Meanwhile, Disney has launched a streaming service and is pulling the catalogs of all its subsidiaries from rival services. That means that the creators behind those works will no longer receive residual payments from Disney for the licensing fees it receives from the likes of Netflix—instead, their work will stream exclusively on Disney Plus, and Disney will no longer have to pay the creators any more money for the use of their work.

To top it all off, the DOJ is working to end the antitrust rule that bans movie studios from owning movie theater chains, 70 years after it was put in place to end a suite of nakedly anti-competitive tactics that had especially grave consequences for actors and other creative people in the film industry. Right on cue, the already massively concentrated movie theater industry got even more concentrated.

The most visible impact of the steady concentration of the entertainment industry is on big stars: think of Taylor Swift's battle to perform her own music at an awards show where she was being named "Artist of the Decade" shortly after rights to her back catalog were sold to a "tycoon" whom she has a longstanding feud with.

But perhaps the most important impact is on independent creators, those who either cannot or will not join forces with the entertainment giants. These artists, more than any other, depend on a free, fair and open Internet to connect with audiences, promoted and distribute their works and receive payments. The tech sector has undergone market concentration that makes it every bit as troubled as the entertainment industry: as the New Zealand technologist Tom Eastman wrote in 2018, "I'm old enough to remember when the Internet wasn't a group of five websites, each consisting of screenshots of text from the other four."

The monopolization of the online world means that all artists are vulnerable to changes in Big Tech policy, which can see their livings confiscated, their artistic works disappeared, and their online presences erased due to error, caprice, or as collateral damage in other fights. Here, too, independent artists are especially vulnerable: when YouTube's Content ID copyright filter incorrectly blocks a video from a major studio or label, executives at the company can get prompt action from Google -- but when an independent artist is incorrectly labeled a pirate, their only hope of getting their work sprung from content jail is to make a huge public stink and hope it's enough to shame a tech giant into action.

As online platforms become ever-more-central to our employment, family, culture, education, romance and personal lives, the tech giants are increasingly wielding the censor's pen to strike out our words and images and sounds and videos in the name of public safety, copyright enforcement, and a host of other rubrics. Even considering that it's impossible to do a good job of this at massive scale, the tech companies do a particularly bad job.

This is about to get much worse. In March 2019, the European Union passed the most controversial copyright rules in its history by a razor-thin margin of only five votes—and later, ten Members of the European Parliament stated that they were confused and had pressed the wrong button, though the damage had already been done.

One of the most controversial parts of the new European Copyright Directive was Article 17 (formerly Article 13), which will require all online platforms to implement copyright filters similar to Google's Content ID. The Directive does not contain punishments for those who falsely claim copyright over works that don't belong to them (this is a major problem today, with fraudsters using fake copyright claims to threaten the livelihoods of creators in order to extort money from working artists).

Article 17 represents a bonanza for crooks who victimize creators by claiming copyright over their works—without offering any protections for the artists targeted by scammers. Artists who are under the protective wing of big entertainment companies can probably shield themselves from harm, meaning that the heavily concentrated entertainment sector will have even more leverage to use in its dealings with creators.

But that's not all: Article 17 may have snuffed out any possibility of launching a competing platform to discipline the Big Tech firms, at least in Europe. Startups might be able to offer a better product and lure customers to it (especially with the help of Adversarial Interoperability) but they won't be able to afford the massive capital expenditures needed to develop and operate the filters required by Article 17 until they've grown to giant size—something they won't get a chance to do because, without filters, they won't be able to operate at all.

That means that the Big Tech giants will likely get bigger, and, where possible, they will use their control over access to markets and customers to force both independent creators and big media companies to sell on terms that benefit them, at the expense of creators and entertainment companies.

To see what this looks like, just consider Amazon, especially its Audible division, which controls virtually the entire audiobook market. Once a minor sideline for publishing, audiobooks are now a major component of any author's living, generating nearly as much revenue as hardcovers and growing much faster.

Amazon has abused its near-total dominance over the audiobook market to force creators and publishers to consent to its terms, which include an absolute requirement that all audiobooks sold on Audible be wrapped in Amazon's proprietary "Digital Rights Management" code. This code nominally protects Audible products from unauthorized duplication, but this is a mere pretense.

It's pretty straightforward to remove this DRM, but providing tools to do so is a potential felony under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, carrying a penalty of a five-year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine for a first offense (EFF is suing the US government to overturn this law). This means that potential Audible rivals can't offer tools to import Audible purchases to run on their systems or to permit access to all your audiobooks from a single menu.

As Amazon grows in scale and ambition, it can, at its discretion, terminate authors' or publishers' access to the audience it controls (something the company has done before). Audiences that object to this will be left with a difficult choice: abandon the purchases they've made to follow the artists they love to smaller, peripheral platforms, or fragment their expensive audiobook libraries across a confusion of apps and screens. 

Copyright was historically called "the author's monopoly," but increasingly those small-scale monopolies are being expropriated by giant corporations—some tech, some entertainment, some a weird chimera of both—and wielded to corner entire markets or sectors. In 2017, EFF lost a long, bitter fight to ensure that a poorly considered project to add DRM to the standards for Web browsers didn't result in further monopolization of the browser market. Two years later, our worst fears have been realized and it is effectively impossible to launch a competitive browser without permission from Google or Microsoft or Apple (Apple won't answer licensing queries, Microsoft wants $10,000 just to consider a licensing application, and Google has turned down all requests to license for new free/open-source browsers).

Copyright has also become a key weapon in the anticompetitive arsenal wielded against the independent repair sector. More than 20 state-level Right to Repair bills have been killed by industry coalitions who cite a self-serving, incoherent mix of concerns over their copyrights and "cybersecurity" as reasons why you shouldn't be able to get your phone or car fixed in the shop of your choice.

All this is why EFF expanded its competition-related projects in 2019 and will do even more in 2020. We, too, are old enough to remember when the Internet wasn't a group of five websites, each consisting of screenshots of text from the other four. We know that, in 2020, it's foolish to expect tech companies to have their users' back unless there's a meaningful chance those users will go somewhere else (and not just to another division of the same tech company).

(Crossposted from EFF Deeplinks)

https://boingboing.net/2020/01/22/in-serving-big-company-interes.html

[cxhnow]

Growing Up With Chloe x Halle

The Bailey sisters on why they didn’t switch up overnight — the world just caught up to their speed.

On their 2018 debut album The Kids Are Alright and on Freeform’s Grown-ish, a 19- and 17-year-old Chloe and Halle Bailey sang “Watch out world, I’m grown now.” So you’ll have to forgive them for acting out a little on their new sophomore record — they warned us. While Ungodly Hour might sound like a pivot to the grown ‘n’ sexy side of R&B similar to plenty of their peers, trading TKAA’s colorful doodles for chrome angel wings and skin-tight latex, they’re really just living the same truths they preached up and down TKAA: Own your insecurities, work hard, don’t get distracted by drama. “When we created this album, we said, Okay, we want to show all the different sides and layers of us,” Chloe tells me, sitting side by side with her sister, over Zoom from their family home in Los Angeles. “We don’t just want to show this one side. A lot of people still think we’re teenagers.”

Now 22 and 20, the former child stars are ready to explore the topics they’ve been singing about since they were kids making covers on YouTube, the ones that landed them a record deal with music royalty before they were old enough to vote. The new album calls out former flings, seethes with jealousy, and apologizes when necessary. Lyrics like “It’s four o’clock / you sendin’ me too many pictures of your …” and “No drama, no baby mamas” immediately started dating rumors online, roping in their Grown-ish co-star Diggy Simmons. While most fans are having fun with it, those a little, um, outside of the Baileys’ age demographic are still struggling (try to get through this Breakfast Club questioning without cringing). In case you missed it: They no longer have to change Beyoncé lyrics from “You showed your ass” to “You showed your butt” — on “Do It,” they proudly sing “I’m a bad girl, shake a li’l ass.” Alongside all the perks of growing up, the album makes sure to normalize the struggles, too.

When the coronavirus pandemic sent Halle home to L.A. from The Little Mermaid rehearsals in London, their house (complete with mom, dad, and younger brother, Branson) became their album rollout headquarters. One of the few albums to not be pushed due to the coronavirus, Ungodly Hour was originally planned for June 5, but the deaths of George Floyd in Minnesota, Breonna Taylor in Kentucky, and far too many others across the country, created a moment that Chloe and Halle felt they couldn’t ignore. They pushed the album one week, to June 12, and continued to use their platform to share petitions, funds, and awareness, while also personally signing petitions and making donations. As both an escape and work, they’ve been focusing their energy on the album, diving into elaborate DIY remote performances and mashing up songs, but making sure to leave Sundays for rest. After a busy weekend tearing up the BET Awards and Global Citizen virtual stages, channeling Aaliyah in one performance and going full rock and roll in the other, they’ll be back on Instagram Live this Thursday for Ungodly Hour Tea Time, where they often chill out in Snuggies, try to remember what day of quarantine it is, and update their supporters on their lives.

How has it been, emotionally, to have to sing and dance while all of this turmoil is happening? Halle Bailey: Emotionally, what’s keeping us afloat is music and feeling better through the art. I think that’s why we love music so much because even though we create it and we sing it, we use it as our healer, too. Everything going on really makes you reflect. But we’re young black women, this hasn’t been anything new to us. Our community has known about this for a very long time, and it’s constantly upsetting. But what I’m appreciating about technology and social media is that our voices can’t be silenced anymore. And the things that they used to try to hide, they can’t any longer. We’re seeing these injustices happen over video, and [so is] the rest of the world who’s usually ignorant to the racism that’s been underlying in this community. They’re seeing it and they’re upset as well. So it’s good because change can only happen when we’re all working towards a common goal. I can’t wait to see what comes out of this.

I feel like every time we have one of these moments where everyone is just mourning so publicly in such a communal way, there’s also music that uplifts us. Talk me through deciding to postpone the album.

HB:  During the height of the George Floyd protests, emotionally, we just were not right to release a project. Our little brother and our father — when we see a video of George Floyd getting killed in the street, we think that could be them tomorrow. And we wanted to shine the light on what needs to be seen. That George Floyd video, Breonna Taylor, all of the other brothers and sisters that we have lost to police brutality — that is what needed to be at the forefront and what still needs to be at the forefront.

And when The Kids Are Alright came out that was right around March for Our Lives, the Women’s March was happening. How does this moment compare for you?

Chloe Bailey: Wow, now that I’m thinking about it, this time, it feels a bit more like change is really going to happen. Around The Kids Are Alright, we went to the March for Our Lives and we were around that incredible energy; it was really positive and uplifting because we were all banding together. But for some reason, this time right now … I feel like we have the entire world’s attention. Actual change is going to come out of what’s been happening. So, it feels the same but different, right?

HB: Yeah, I definitely think this one feels more massive. Feels like, Okay, maybe we’re getting somewhere this time. Maybe it won’t just go away a week after all of this is over, you know?

In the early stages of Ungodly Hour, did you go in wanting it to be something that showcased your maturity? Or did that come out as you were going with it?

HB: We absolutely knew that we wanted it to showcase our growth, the evolution of us into young women. Because I feel like The Kids Are Alright was very much us finding ourselves and that project took three years to make. So with that length, you can kind of go through and see like, Oh, wow, they must have been really shifting through and figuring out what’s wrong and what’s right. So, for this project, it was like, Yes, we are here. We are now grown women. I’m 20. My sister’s about to be 22 this week.

CB: Hey!

HB: So we took that and we were just like, Let’s show who we’ve become. And let’s show the side of us that people don’t see whether it’s the naughtier side of us or the insecure side of us, or the part that picks every single thing apart about ourselves out. We wanted to show all the layers of us as young women, once you kind of know who you are, but also you’re still learning.

You’ll never be a finished product.

CB: Never, constantly evolving. And that’s the goal.

There have always been glimpses at your boss-bitch attitudes, hints of it in your music and on Grown-ish. Do you ever get the sense that you’re waiting for the industry and fans to sort of open their eyes and catch up to where you’re at?

CB: I’m not gonna lie, there are some moments. And I remember when we were even creating this album we were putting a certain pressure on ourselves. Because we were thinking, What do we want the world to hear from us? What do we think the world wants us to sound like? What would make people become more receptive to us? I remember we were creating for, like, one to two months in that mind-set, and we were creating some of the worst music we ever have.

HB: Yeah, it was. It was trash.

CB: It was because we weren’t creating from our hearts. We weren’t being honest with ourselves, and as a musician, you gotta be vulnerable and share that true part of yourself or the music isn’t going to be very good. Once we threw that out the window and said, You know what, let’s create a good body of art, the album continued to write itself. But that main lesson for us was never change yourself; the world will catch up to you when it’s ready. I feel like they’re kinda ready now for this project. It’s older and more mature than The Kids Are Alright because we’re older and more mature than who we were when we created that.

In making a more vulnerable album, were you nervous about expanding your image in that way? Was there anything that you debated not including or things that didn’t make the cut?

HB: Wow, so, I will say that our parents kind of had a hard time … well, not a hard time, but just like opening their eyes to the fact that, Okay, these are the topics that we’ve decided to talk about. This is what’s happening. It was really fun for us to watch them. I completely understand how they feel because, you know, we’ve been just little babies to them and now we’re growing and they’re hearing [about] certain things that we’ve been through, or that we just wrote in the music. They have been like, “Oh, okay, so that’s that.”

Fans tweet collabs at you all the time, but what’s your actual approach to choosing who you work with? (Ungodly Hour features just two major collaborations: Swae Lee on “Catch Up” and the title track with Disclosure.)

CB: Definitely we have to be fans of them, number one. Even though we make music, we are such big music fans and music lovers. Two, we have to feel like the person can sonically fit the song. We don’t want to throw just anyone on a song just because they have a big name, which is really cool too. It’s really great to get big features. But it’s so funny because we have a big wish list of who we hear on which songs and some people bite, some people don’t. It’s always fun to see what the end result will be. And I know we’ll start putting out remixes and stuff soon, which will be fun.

HB: It’s very interesting because it’s hard during the creative process. You kind of have to open yourself up to somebody you do not know when you make music; it’s a part of your heart that you’re sharing. So, it’s a very intimate thing to do with a stranger. Which is why with my sister it’s really easy. But when it comes to us working with new people, we gravitate towards the ones who have very open spirits and souls, nice people.

Chloe, would you ever produce for other artists?

CB: Absolutely, 1,000 percent. That would be so much fun. I would be getting out of my comfort zone, because the only person who I can comfortably produce in front of is my sister and blast it loud over the speakers. Whenever we have other sessions with other producers and we’re collaborating, I’ll put my headphones in, I won’t blast it on the aux with theirs. I have my little computer on my lap because I like using weird sounds and samples and chopping them up in a weird way. Sometimes it’s trial and error, so I don’t want people to hear my mistakes.

HB: She’s amazing and she should just blast it everywhere she goes, okay?

CB: I would definitely love, love, love to do that.

Yes, we want to hear you everywhere! So, when shelter in place started, you guys very flawlessly transitioned to doing these home covers and incredible remote performances. What’s the process of coming up with these concepts, especially the more elaborate ones?

HB: Oh my gosh, it’s really just a bunch of play. When we’re coming up with concepts, our creative director Andrew Makadsi is really amazing at seeing our vision for the songs before we actually perform them live. It’s been really interesting and exciting to have new songs to play with. But as far as the covers, you know, those are easy. We can do those in our sleep; we just love singing other people’s songs.

How long does it take to pull together a remote performance like the Today show one for example?

CB: Our amazing creative director came up with that and it took him a day. He just kept sending us a bunch of references and photo ideas he thought of and we picked the backdrop we wanted. The song arrangement, because we always like to switch it up every time, takes —

HB: Like a day.

CB: It takes us like ten minutes to arrange the songs. But then we took some of the choreography [by Kendra Bracy and Ashanti Ledon] that we learned during the music video shoot, and we added new choreography ourselves for the Today show performance. We were like on the floor and stuff — we did that the night before we filmed it. That took us like 30 minutes because we wanted to make sure the moves weren’t awkward because we’re not choreographers, so we would prop up our iPhone and that would be our little dance-studio mirror.

You guys are really doing it by yourselves in quarantine. So, what’s the tennis court situation? Has that always been there?

HB: Yeah, it has actually, we just haven’t really used it. I mean, we’ve been where we live for about two years now. We never really thought to use it until quarantine happened ‘cause we always go somewhere else to shoot performances. That’s been a beautiful evolution — using what we have. We feel so blessed to just be able to do what we love and also do it somewhere nice.

The tennis court performances have been life-giving.

CB: It’s been so useful, from the at-home photo shoots we have to do and then the performances, like I’m so grateful. We don’t actually know how to play tennis, but there are basketball hoops on each side so our little brother Branson’s usually out there. So, when we do have to do these things, I feel bad because he’s always out there shooting hoops, but he’s like, “Okay, you can have it for two hours …” [x]

[ts1989fanatic]

Taylor Swift Bent the Music Industry to Her Will

In the 2010s, she became its savviest power player.

In late November 2019, Taylor Swift gave a career-spanning performance at the American Music Awards before accepting the statue for Artist of the Decade. (Swift was perhaps the perfect cross between the award’s two previous recipients, Britney Spears and Garth Brooks.) Clad in a cascading rose-colored cape and holding court among the younger female artists in attendance — 17-year-old Billie Eilish, 22-year-old Camila Cabello, 25-year-old Halsey — Swift had the queenly air of an elder stateswoman. After picking up five additional awards, including Artist of the Year, she became the show’s most decorated artist in history. “This is such a great year in music. The new artists are insane,” she declared in her acceptance speech, with big-sister gravitas. That night, she finally outgrew that “Who, me?” face of perpetual awards-show surprise; she accepted the honors she won like an artist who believed she had worked hard enough to deserve them.

Swift cut an imposing adult figure up there, because somewhere along the line she’d become one. The 2010s have coincided almost exactly with Swift’s 20s, with the subtle image changes and maturations across her last five album cycles coming to look like an Animorphs cover of a savvy and talented young woman gradually growing into her power. And so to reflect on the Decade in Taylor Swift is to assess not just her sonic evolutions but her many industry chess moves: She took Spotify to task in a Wall Street Journal op-ed and got Apple to reverse its policy of not paying artists royalties during a three-month free trial of its music-streaming service. She sued a former radio DJ for allegedly groping her during a photo op and demanded just a symbolic victory of $1, as if to say the money wasn’t the point. Critics wondered whether she was leaning too heavily on her co-writers, so she wrote her entire 2010 album, Speak Now, herself, without any collaborators. In 2018, she severed ties with her longtime label, Big Machine Records, and negotiated a new contract with Universal Music Group that gave her ownership of her masters and assurance that she (and any other artist on the label) would be paid out if UMG ever sold its Spotify shares. Yes, she stoked the flames of her celebrity feuds with Kanye West, Kim Kardashian West, and Katy Perry plenty over the past ten years, but she’s also focused some of her combative energy on tackling systemic problems and fashioning herself into something like the music industry’s most high-profile vigilante. Few artists have made royalty payments and the minutiae of entertainment-law front-page news as often as Swift has.

Within the industry, Swift has always had the reputation of being something of a songwriting savant (in 2007, when “Our Song” was released, then-17-year-old Swift became the youngest person ever to write and perform a No. 1 song on the Billboard Country chart), but she has long desired to be considered an industry power player, too. A 2011 New Yorker profile of Swift circa her blockbuster Speak Now World Tour noted that she initially intended to follow her parents’ footsteps and pursue a career in business, quoting her saying, “I didn’t know what a stockbroker was when I was 8, but I would just tell everybody that’s what I was going to be.” In an even earlier interview, she fondly recalled the times in elementary school when she stayed up late with her mother, practicing for school presentations. “I’m sick of women not being able to say that they have strategic business minds — because male artists are allowed to,” she said this year in an unusually candid Rolling Stone interview. “And I’m so sick and tired of having to pretend like I don’t mastermind my own business.” Of course, she still spent plenty of time sitting at her piano or strumming her guitar, but in that conversation she painted herself as someone who is also “sit[ting] in a conference room several times a week,” coming up with ideas about how best to market her music and her career.

And so over the past decade, Swift’s face has appeared not just on magazine covers and television screens, but on UPS trucks and Amazon packages. Her songs have been featured in Target commercials and NFL spots, to name just two of her many lucrative partnerships. That New Yorker profile also found her to be uncommonly enthused about the fact that her CDs were being sold in Starbucks: “I was so stoked about it, because it’s been one of my goals — I always go into Starbucks, and I wished that they would sell my album.”

“Taylor Swift is something like the Sheryl Sandberg of pop music,” Hazel Cills wrote recently in Jezebel. “She has propelled her career from tiny country artist into pop machine over the past few years with little shame when it comes to corporate collaborators.” Such brazen femme-capitalism will always be a turnoff to some people (“the Sheryl Sandberg of pop music” is even less of a compliment in 2019 than it was when Lean In was first published), but it’s undeniable that it has helped Swift maintain and leverage her status as a commercial juggernaut more consistently than any other pop star over the past ten years.

In the 2010s, with the clockwork certainty of a midterm election, there was a Taylor Swift album every other autumn. (Yes, there was a three-year gap between 1989 and Reputation, but she all but made up for it with the quick timing of August’s Lover.) The kinds of pop superstars considered her peers did not stick to such rigid schedules: Adele released two studio albums this decade, Beyoncé released three, and even Rihanna — who for the first three years of the decade was averaging an album a year — eventually slowed her roll and will have released just four when the 2010s are all said and done. The only A-plus-list musician who saturated the market as steadily as Swift did this decade was Drake.

Still, Drake’s commercial dominance was more of a newfangled phenomenon, capitalizing on the industry’s sudden reliance on streaming and his massive popularity on platforms like Spotify and Apple Music. Drake might be the artist who rode the streaming wave most successfully this decade, but — with her strategic withholding of her albums from certain platforms until they better compensated artists — Swift was often the one bending it to her will. And she could do that because she didn’t need to rely on it solely: Somehow, against all odds, Taylor Swift still sold records. Like, gazillions of them. When Swift’s 2017 record, Reputation (some critics thought it was a critical misstep, but it certainly wasn’t a commercial one), moved 1.216 million units in its first seven days, Swift became the only artist in history to achieve four different million-selling weeks. And, of course, all four of these weeks came during a decade when traditional album sales were on a precipitous decline. At least for those mere mortals who were not an all-powerful being named Taylor Alison Swift.

“Female empowerment” has been such an ambient, unquestioned virtue of the pop culture of this decade that we have too often failed to take a step back and ask ourselves what sort of power is being advocated for, and if its attainment should always be a cause for celebration. Is “female empowerment” any different from the hollow, materialistic promises of the late ’90s “girl power”? Is “female power” inherently different or more benevolent than its default male counterpart? Maybe this feels like such a distinctly American hang-up because we have not yet experienced that mythic, oft-imagined figure of the First Female President, and have thus not had to contend with the cold reality that, whoever she is, she will, like all of us, be inevitably flawed, imperfect, and at least occasionally disappointing.

As she’s grown into her own brand of 21st-century American pop feminism — sometimes elegantly, sometimes gawkily — Swift seems to have come to a firm conviction that female power is essentially more virtuous than the male variety. This was a side of herself she celebrated in her AMA performance. Swift opened her medley with a few fiery bars of “The Man,” her own personalized daydream of what gender equality would look like: “I’m so sick of running as fast as I can,” she sings, “wondering if I’d get there quicker if I was a man.” She wore an oversize white button-down onto which the titles of her old albums were stamped in a correctional-facility font: SPEAK NOW, RED, 1989, REPUTATION. Plenty of the millions of people who scrutinize Swift’s every move interpreted her choice of outfit and song as not-so-subtle jabs at Big Machine’s Scott Borchetta and the manager-to-the-stars Scooter Braun, with whom Swift is still in a messy, uncommonly public battle over the fate of her master recordings. (The only album title missing from her outfit was “LOVER,” which happens to be the only one of which she has full ownership.) She has framed the terms of her battle with Borchetta and Braun in strikingly gendered language: “These are two very rich, very powerful men, using $300 million of other people’s money to purchase, like, the most feminine body of work,” she told Rolling Stone. “And then they’re standing in a wood-panel bar doing a tacky photo shoot, raising a glass of Scotch to themselves.” Though she is herself a very rich, very powerful woman, she reads their message to be unquestionably condescending: Be a good little girl and shut up.

It is true that many record contracts are designed to take advantage of young artists, and that young women and people of color are probably perceived by music executives to be the marks most vulnerable to exploitation. But it is also true that Swift signed a legally binding contract, the kind that a businesswoman like herself would have to respect if it were signed by somebody else. Braun, who has been asking to have these negotiations in private rather than on Twitter, claims to have received death threats from her fans.

Even as she’s grown into one of the most dominant pop-culture figures in the world, Swift sometimes still seems to be clinging to her old underdog identity, to the extent that she can fail to grasp the magnitude of her own power or account for the blind spots of her privilege. “Someday I’ll be big enough so you can’t hit me,” she sang on Speak Now’s Grammy-winning 2010 single “Mean,” seemingly oblivious to the fact that, compared to 99.99 percent of the population, she already was. The mid-decade backlash to Swift’s thin-white-celebrity-and-model-studded “girl squad” — none of which was more incisive than Lara Marie Schoenhals’s hilarious parody video — took her by surprise. “I never would have imagined that people would have thought, This is a clique that wouldn’t have accepted me if I wanted to be in it … I thought it was going to be we can still stick together, just like men are allowed to.”

“Female power” is not automatically faultless, and can of course be tainted by all other sorts of biases and assumptions about class, race, and sexual orientation, to name just a few more common pitfalls. Swift’s face-palm-inducing 2015 misunderstanding with Nicki Minaj revealed this, of course, and plenty of people felt that her sudden embrace of the LGBTQ community in the “You Need to Calm Down” was a clumsy overcorrection for her past silence. Maybe she would have gotten where she was quicker if she were a man. But it would take a more complicated, and perhaps less catchy, song to acknowledge she might not have gotten there at all had she not also enjoyed other privileges.

Art has its own kind of power — sneakier and harder to measure than the economic kind. The reason Taylor Swift has been worth talking about incessantly for an entire decade is that she continues to wield this kind, too. “I don’t think her commercial responsibilities detract from her genuine passion for her craft,” a then-17-year-old Tavi Gevinson wrote in a memorable 2013 essay for The Believer. “Have you ever watched her in interviews when she gets asked about her actual songwriting? She becomes that kid who’s really into the science fair.”

After so much industry drama, much of the lived-in, self-reflective Lover is a simple reminder that Swift was and still is a singular songwriter. Yes, this was the decade of such loud, flashy missteps as “Look What You Made Me Do,” “Welcome to New York,” and “Me!,” but it was also a decade of so many quieter triumphs: the pulsing synesthesia of “Red,” the nervous heart flutter of “Delicate,” the sleek sophistication of “Style,” the concise lyricism of “Mean,” the cathartic fun of “22,” the slow-dance swoon of “Lover.” But like so many of her fans, and even Swift herself, I still find the most enduringly powerful song she’s ever written to be “All Too Well,” the smoldering breakup scrapbook released on her great 2012 album Red. “Wind in my hair, I was there, I remember it all too well,” she sings, an innocent enough lyric that, by the end of the song, comes to glint like a switchblade. In a decade of DGAF, ghosting, and performative chill, remembering it all too well might be Swift’s stealthiest superpower. She felt it deeply, can still access that feeling whenever she needs to, and that means she can size you up in a line as concisely cutting as “so casually cruel in the name of being honest.” Forget Jake Gyllenhaal or John Mayer. That’s the sort of observation that would bring Goliath to his knees.

“It is still the case that when listeners hear a female voice, they do not hear a voice that connotes authority,” the historian Mary Beard writes in her manifesto Women & Power, “or rather they have not learned how to hear authority in it.” At least in the realm of pop music, Swift has spent the better part of her decade chipping away at that double standard, and teaching people how to think about cultural power a little bit differently. She sprinkled artful emblems of teen-girl-speak through her smash hits (“Uhhh he calls me and he’s like, ‘I still love you,’ and I’m like, ‘This is exhausting, we are never getting back together, like, ever”) and did not abandon her effusive love of kittens and butterflies in order to be taken seriously. As an artist and a businesswoman, she made the power of teen girls — and the women who used to be them — that much more perilous to ignore. Because they’ve been there all along, and they remember all too well.

[makistar2018]

Todrick Hall's Comments About Taylor Swift Are All About Support – EXCLUSIVE

BY KELLI BOYLE January 6, 2019

Do your friends tell you you're "celeb obsessed"? Do you follow your favorite celebs' every move? Know their Instagram histories so well that you can rattle off their inner circle by name and IG handle? If yes, Elite Daily's new series, SideClique, is just for you. We're bringing you everything you've ever wanted to know about the people living their lives right alongside our favorite celebs.

Todrick Hall has some famous friends and co-workers. His YouTube channel (which has close to 3 million subscribers) has gotten him worldwide recognition and into the room where it happens with the likes of Beyoncé and Taylor Swift. He choreographed Beyoncé's "Blow" music video after she saw some of his own videos, and his friendship with Taylor Swift got him a featured cameo in the "Look What You Made Me Do" music video. Todrick Hall's comments about Taylor Swift prove that working and being close friends with the star is not what you may think.

Hall and I are on the set of his "Glitter" music video when we sit down to chat about his career. He had already met T. Swift by the time he starred as Lola in Kinky Boots on Broadway in 2016, but it was during this stint in Harvey Fierstein and Cindy Lauper's Tony-winning show that his friendship with the "Delicate" singer really solidified.

“I FEEL LIKE I OWE HER MONEY FOR THE AMOUNT OF THERAPY THAT SHE'S GIVEN ME FOR THE BOYS THAT I'VE DATED.“

"When I moved to New York, I went out to eat with her when I was doing Kinky Boots," Hall tells Elite Daily, "and I had done shows in New York before, but it had been so many years and I felt like I had lost my friend circle. And so I was so happy that she was [living in New York]." Hall says their friendship was a casual one, so he didn't expect her to come see him in the Broadway show.

"She said that she was going to come and see the show and I was like, I'm never going to ask her to come and see it again because I know she's busy, I don't want to pressure her. And she just showed up to the show one day." He says Swift not only saw the show, but she stayed for two hours after meeting, speaking, and taking pictures with everyone in the cast and crew. From then on, he knew he had a solid friend in her.

Hall reveals that, like many on the internet, he believed Swift's niceness was just a front she put on for her famous persona. But he maintains that niceness still holds true in their personal and professional relationships.

"Huge things will happen and she'll be like, 'OK, great. This is what we have to do, this is what the universe has given us, this is what we're faced with. How are we going to fix this?' I would love to handle my minor issues the way that she handles some of her huge issues that billions of people are going to see and judge." He doesn't hint as to what any of those "huge issues" he's talking about are, but her public beef with Kim Kardashian and Kanye West comes to mind, as well as incessant tabloid coverage of her past relationships. (Miraculously, she and actor Joe Alwyn have managed to keep their two-year relationship under tight lock and key.)

"I think that one thing that I really love about her is she has been burned by a lot of people," Halls continues, "and you would think in a lot of ways that she would be totally OK with being a princess locked in a tower that nobody was able to enter. But she's willing to get back up again and trust people again, which is a very scary thing when you're somebody in that position."

Hall has proven himself to be a loyal friend to Swift as well, going to bat for her frequently against Kanye West.

When Swift finally voiced her political opinions in what the internet felt was a long overdue Instagram post, Hall posted on Instagram as well, showing his pride in her decision.

He explained in the lengthy caption that Swift being so guarded for so long about her political beliefs was part of the reason he kept their friendship casual at first. He echoes the same sentiment in our conversation.

Referencing her complete lack of a public political stance over the years, Hall tells me, "She has such power that I don't even think she realizes how much of an affect it would have on people."

He continues, "I was explaining to her that, as a gay person, I didn't know for sure how you felt about gay people and I was a little bit nervous to talk to you about my love life or whatever." And he recognizes the criticism she would receive for not voicing her political opinions before the 2016 presidential election.

Many people justifiably feel that Swift, with such a powerful influence over newly 18-year-old potential voters, could have done much more political advocacy in 2016 than just posting a picture of herself with an "I Voted" sticker. When you have a platform as large as Swift's, it's easy to see how not using said platform in a tumultuous political time would garner heavy criticism. Some of that criticism, Hall says, was pointed at him as well.

As a gay man of color, Hall tells me that people online occasionally placed the onus of getting Swift to "come out" as a democrat on him.

"Sometimes, people would give me flack online that she wasn't doing certain things," he tells me. "I love the fact that she has grown and evolved in her own time, as every artist has to do." He continues, "It can be very scary to potentially risk your career or your reputation to stick your neck out for something when you don't have to do it. You don't have to stand up for gay rights, you don't have to voice your opinion, and you'll sell the same amount of records. But somebody who truly cares about the way this country is falling apart and will take it upon themselves to use their voice to do something — that, I believe, is just the right thing to do."

She did that when she officially endorsed democratic candidates running in Tennessee elections in 2018 (and there was a massive surge in voter registration as a result). But Hall recognizes this was overdue. But Hall knew that being a good friend meant supporting her decision, regardless of how late it was.

So when Kanye West tweeted that he was "distancing" himself from politics, Hall couldn't help but laugh (and call the rapper out on Twitter).

“Well well well Miss @kanyewest," he said, "while I’m thrilled that you claim to have hopped off the Trump train, I cannot help but bask in the irony that you are now ‘distancing yourself from politics’ while the girl everybody was dragging is now promoting a blue candidate like it’s her job." Look what you made him do, Kanye! Elite Daily reached out to West's team for comment on Hall's tweets, but did not hear back by the time of publication.

All tea and shade aside, Hall tells me that Swift is one of those friends who is basically a therapist for him, and vice versa.

"I feel like I owe her money for the amount of therapy that she's given me for the boys that I've dated," Hall quips. He reveals that he hasn't always approved of her past relationships either, although he stays tightlipped on just which of her famous exes he's referring to. (Booooo.)

“TAYLOR SWIFT DOESN'T HAVE TO EVER DANCE, SHE'LL STILL SELL THE SAME AMOUNT OF TICKETS. SHE JUST LOVES TO DANCE.“

"I think that it's easy to be surrounded with a lot of 'yes' people," he says, "but with Taylor, there was somebody that she was dating that I didn't necessarily approve of and I was definitely very honest with her about how I felt about it. She just would always be like, 'Thank you so much for your honesty.'"

Throughout their entire friendship, however, they never had the chance to work together. That is, until Swift asked him to be in the "Look What You Made Me Do" music video.

"I feel like it is the most expensive music video that's ever been created in history," Hall jokes.

Outside of working with his bestie on the video, Hall says it was a wonder to see director Joseph Kahn at work on the video. Kahn has directed a large number of Swift's videos in the past, including most of the videos from Reputation. The biggest were "Look What You Made Me Do" and "...Ready For It?" both of which Hall was on set. To perform in the former, and just observe the latter.

"It was amazing to watch [Joseph Kahn] work and to see everything," Hall says, adding, "I was also on the set of '...Ready For It?' to watch that as well. And it was just really, really awesome and to be able to hear the song and to see the sets. I make videos for a living, but to see the budget of how these sets were built and how amazing they look, it was just insane. I had never seen anything like that before in my life."

He brings up his choreography for Beyoncé on the "Blow" music video as a comparison. Beyoncé's self-titled surprise album was famously more low-budget than some of her other videos because it was being kept as such a huge secret, so seeing Swift's massive budget for her Reputation videos was an eye-opener.

"When I did the video with Beyoncé, we went to a location, a roller skating rink, and that's where we did it, so that was the aesthetic of that video," he explains, "But I've never been somewhere where they built an entire world and a cemetery and a thrown and all these things. It was just really crazy to see it and to be a part of it was just really, really awesome."

As for her dancing in the video (people have always trolled Swift for dancing even though she's not near someone like Beyoncé's level), Hall says she's doing it for the joy it brings her.

"Taylor Swift doesn't have to ever dance," he, a professional dancer, says. "She'll still sell the same amount of tickets. She just loves to dance." She danced alongside Hall in the "Look What You Made Me Do" video, and Hall sees it as a huge moment of pride. He tells me, "She was scared at first, she was for sure nervous. But once we saw the playback and I was like, 'You look amazing,' she just kept going in more and more and more and more. Every single time, she'd give it more energy, more performance, and now I see her dancing in [the Reputation stadium tour] more than she's ever danced before. And I'm just so proud of her."

Elite Daily

[lovetheplayers]

CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT: TAYLOR SWIFT’S INDIANAPOLIS PERFORMANCE WAS LUCAS OIL STADIUM’S BIGGEST AND BEST YET

Since replacing the RCA Dome in 2008, Indianapolis’ Lucas Oil Stadium has hosted a number of great concerts since breaking ground. While Kenny Chesney held an informal monopoly on concerts for the venue’s first eight years, One Direction and U2 have also delivered memorable shows at Lucas Oil for their Indiana fans. Concerts at the stadium are rare and reserved for the biggest names in music.

Saturday night was no exception to this trend as Taylor Swift delivered arguably the best concert in the stadium’s decade-long history. As part of her critically acclaimed Reputation Tour, the 10-time Grammy winner not only broke domestic records with her new tour but now also holds the attendance record for Indy’s downtown stadium, with her thirteenth ever performance in the city (13 of course being Swift’s lucky number).

Numbers don’t lie either, because Saturday night’s performance was deserving of the massive number of fans who passed through the turnstiles to watch music’s biggest pop-star perform. From the tour’s grand set design to the delicately organized set list, you can call it what you want but the performance was beyond comparable.

And if Taylor Swift wasn’t already a big enough name to fill the concert’s marquee, Swift brought along Charli XCX and MTV’s VMA Artist of the Year, Camila Cabello, along for the ride.

Up first for the night, as fans began to fill the $720 million dollar stadium and find their seats, English singer/songwriter Charli XCX put on a 7-song performance to reward fans for showing up on-time. The set was short but sweet, as practically every song the 26-year-old singer performed was a hit. Opening up with 2014’s ‘Boom Clap’ (from the movie “The Fault In Our Stars”), hits like ‘I Love It’, ‘Break The Rules’ and ‘Fancy’ kept the crowd moving.

Up next to the stage was an artist who will be headlining stadiums of her own in no time. Despite years of experience from her time with Fifth Harmony, the newly solo Camila Cabello has hit the ground running after announcing her departure from the pop group, which has since announced an indefinite hiatus in pursuit of solo careers.

In just about a year’s time, Cabello delivered the song of the summer with her breakout single ‘Havanna’, released her self-titled debut album and recently took home MTV’s Video Music Awards for Video and Artist of the Year. While pop stars typically grind for years before experiencing massive success, Cabello’s notoriety with Fifth Harmony and addictive tracks have helped her grow at an unprecedented speed.

The sky’s the limit for the ‘Never Be The Same’ singer and Saturday night was evidence of just that. Performing the majority of tracks from her 2018 debut, Cabello’s vocals and talented displays of dancing are what stood out the most, all making for an A-list pop-star.

While tracks like ‘Never Be The Same’ and ‘Havana’ (which opened and closed her set) of course had the crowd singing along, B-sides like ‘She Loves Control’ and ‘Inside Out’ were personal favorites. As an opener, her current show is perhaps better suited for a smaller stage, but Camila still delivered a great performance and is more than capable of entertaining huge live audiences.

Following Cabello’s performance, crew finished setting the stage for the night���s headliner and promotional videos displayed for fans to pass time and speed up the lulls between sets. Although these were just small touches on the tour, the videos put Taylor’s personality and her relationship with her fans on display.

You could feel the anticipation of fans heighten as Taylor Swift was set to deliver her biggest performance in Indianapolis yet. It wasn’t long ago when Swift sold out the Bankers Life Fieldhouse, just a half a mile northeast of Saturday’s concert, and fast forward three years later, Taylor Swift is still the biggest artist in the world, yet performing for an audience over three times the size of her sold-out Indy crowd in 2015. Where you’d expect diminishing returns, Swift continues to find ways to grow exponentially.

Then as Joan Jett’s 1981 track ‘Bad Reputation’ played throughout the stadium and set the theme for Swift’s performance, soundbites from reporters then supplemented a montage displayed on the stage’s giant 100+ foot screen. Comments like “she holds too many grudges” and “I felt like she was a little angry” serve as the fuel to the fire seconds before Swift steps on stage, keeping the singer motivated throughout her 53-date world tour.

Next, with echoes of past criticism filling the entire stadium, Swift was ready for a performance unlike any other that Indianapolis has seen. Fittingly, the video boards parted to the side and Swift then emerged to her Reputation single ‘….Ready For It?’, to which her Indiana fans emphatically answered “Yes”.

The concert’s opening moments are indicative of most of the night, as Taylor and her dancers move across the entire stage and it’s two catwalks while entertaining choreography and hit records keep fans on their feet. And while Swift checks all the boxes when it comes to the main components of a great stadium show, many smaller aspects of the tour serve as the cherry on top. Whether it’s the bracelets (which fans will remember from the 1989 World Tour) that light up the night or the Reputation Newspaper confetti that falls from the sky, the tour’s attention to detail is great.

With this go big or go home mentality, it’s no surprise that it takes nearly 100 semi trucks to move the tour from city to city, enough rigs to cause a traffic jam of their own. After a strong start, with tracks new (‘Gorgeous’, ‘I Did Something Bad’) and old (‘Love Story’, ‘You Belong With Me’), the first big surprises for fans came during ‘Look What You Made Me Do’. During the bridge, as Taylor sings “I don’t trust nobody and nobody trusts me”, a giant king cobra rises to a height of 40 feet. With snakes serving as an informal mascot for Reputation Era Taylor, the Swifties in the audiences certainly loved massive prop.

A second “guest” (if you will) for the song came at the end of the bridge as the phone rang and actress Tiffany Haddish appeared on the video screen to sit in for Taylor for the tracks’ infamous line: “sorry the old Taylor can’t come to the phone right now. Why? Cause, she’s dead!”

Although the concert gets off to a great start from the very beginning, and ‘I Did Something Bad’ (her second track of the night) is a personal favorite among all the performances, the night’s momentum reaches a whole new level from ‘Look What You Made Me Do’ and beyond.

With strong tracks like ‘End Game’ and ‘King of My Heart’ following ‘LWYMMD’, Swift makes her first departure from the main stage via a floating platform while performing her current single, ‘Delicate’. As the track finishes, Taylor’s next stop is one of two B-stages. And it’s almost insulting to label them as such because although the stages dwarf in comparison to the main stage (her largest stage yet), they are both comparable to the size of her main stage on the 1989 Tour.

Despite selling out the biggest stadiums in the world, Swift covers as much real estate as she can in the venues, turning a huge production into an intimate show. There is literally no bad seat in the house for this one.

If you were closest to the stage-right B-stage though, you were in luck as this act of the concert is the best for many reasons. The first reason is that Swift kicks thing off with her mega-single ‘Shake It Off’ and she doesn’t do it alone either, as Camila Cabello and Charli XCX stick around to join in on the fun.

Next, Swift strips things down for an unforgettable acoustic portion of her set. Performing her Reputation track ‘Dancing With Our Hands Tied’ and her 2008 song ‘Forever & Always’ (a song performed special on the tour for her Indy fans), Swift slows things down and shares some special moments with the crowd.

After a few great performances, Swift then makes her way to the second of two B-stages for another huge single, ‘Blank Space’, as well as Reputation’s most risque record, ‘Dress’.

After her time at the B-stages, Swift floats on back to the main stage with a perfect mash-up of two tracks you would have never thought meshed so wonderfully, with 2016’s ‘Bad Blood’ and 2006 ‘Should’ve Said No’, a country record from Taylor’s self-titled debut. Although a decade and different genres separate these two tracks, it’s as if they were written and recorded as a pair.

With the final stretch of her set nearing, Swift kept her fans engaged with more songs from her newest album, including ‘Getaway Car’, ‘New Year’s Day’ and ‘Call It What You Want’.

Then, to cap off an already memorable night, T-Swift ends the performance with two especially strong performances, one old and one new, but both showcasing her tough, confident and sometimes unforgiving frame of mind. The first being ‘We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together’ and the second being ‘This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things’. Fireworks filled the Indianapolis skyline for the set’s finale and smiles spread across the Lucas Oil Stadium. There was no need to beat traffic that night, because enjoying every last second of the night far outweighed getting home as fast as possible. In fact, we’re sure the ushers had trouble herding fans out the door, as Swifties grabbed their final selfies to remember the record setting night.

It’s almost to impossible to imagine how Taylor Swift could grow after her beloved 1989 World Tour invaded Indianapolis a few years ago, and yet Swift managed to exceed even the highest of expectations.

We’re not sure how Swift can top herself with her next world tour, but we certainly know better than to doubt her.

Link

[d2kvirus]

Dickheads of the Month: November 2020

As it seems that there are people who say or do things that are remarkably dickheaded yet somehow people try to make excuses for them or pretend it never happened, here is a collection of some of the dickheaded actions we saw in the month of November 2020 to make sure that they are never forgotten.

Nobody was expecting Donald Trump to concede defeat gracefully, but bloody hell, between the completely batshit insane conspiracy theory bollocks from himself and the rancid Trump offspring to Rudy Giuliani making complete fools of themselves even before he had to give a press conference from the parking lot of a landscaping firm as nobody checked which Four Seasons it was, before threatening to outlaw Twitter because people made fun of his little table (yes, that sentence does make sense), nobody could have expected just how tempramental toddlers are now thinking it's a bit much

...although somehow the Tory government managed to have an even worse response, because not only did posting a boilerplate jpeg to congratulate Joe Biden for his victory the laziest response possible, but then it turned out that they only had a celebratory jpeg for a Trump victory and hastily edited it on Paint so that Biden’s name was on there, but did a cack-handed job of it even though a.) Common sense dictates you have one for each candidate ready in advance, and b.) Given they had several days to accept which way the wind was blowing, the fact they did the most cack-handed job says everything you need to know 

Smirking cretin Priti Patel has bullied Home Office staff and, having initially tried to bury the report, the best the Tory government could come up with to try and make this go away was claim that she was bullying her subordinates by accident while proven liar Boris Johnson claimed she had done nothing wrong, numerous members of the Tory government either said that as they hadn’t seen her bullying anyone she must be innocent or tried claiming she was “accused” of bullying instead of found guilty of bullying, and to top it all off we had Michael Gove’s wife Sarah Vine accused anyone calling Patel of being a bully racist while Alison Pearson said Patel can’t be a bully as she isn’t tall enough. Also, did I mention this came out during national Bullying Week?

...and just a thought for Jess Phillips after she decided to weigh in, considering it’s on record that you bullied Diane Abbott (and have gleefully said how you told her to “Fuck off” on various occasions) it's not a good idea for you to try and act as you’re above bullying as you will get called out for your hypocrisy

Murderer Amanda Knox thought it would be a really funny joke to suggest that, no matter what the election result, the next four years couldn’t be as bad as the four years she spent studying abroad.  You know, those four years where she murdered Meredith Kercher and got away with it

So it turns out that the moral compass of the Tory government says that it is fine for Dominic Cummings to be happy to sacrifice the elderly if it protects the economy during a pandemic while displaying that he doesn’t know how herd immunity works, purging 21 MPs from the party for not buying into his No Deal Britait Jonestown, siphoning hundreds of millions of pounds into the pockets of his mates in various dodgy contracts, or flagrantly violating the lockdown rules by driving several hundred miles to Durham (where he owns a house he doesn't pay council tax for) after testing positive for Covid - but as soon as he calls Carrie Symonds “Princess Nut Nuts” he’s out the door...for a staged photo op, even though he is remaining in his job until December, which is when he was going to leave anyway

...and we should mention Laura Kuenssberg bullishly stating that Cummings was going nowhere in the wake of Lee Cain being told he could leave when his contract is up in December but they want to make it look like he is being fired, but within twelve hours saying that Cummings would always be leaving in December as a blog post in January stated, which not only asks if anyone has checked the archived version of that blog in case any edits were made in mid-November, but also how she can justify her £290k a year salary if she can get a story that badly wrong that Cummings’ blog disagreed with her

There’s a reason why Lindsey Graham isn't popular in the Senate and it isn’t because he questions if Biden won the election, it's because he’s telling people to “misplace” the votes for Biden which they are counting so that Trump could claim that he won Georgia instead of losing Georgia, demanding a recount, then losing Georgia

Once again proven liar Boris Johnson demonstrated that lockdown rules apply to the little people but not to him or his inner circle, as he met with fellow Tory MP Lee Anderson in person rather than via Zoom as the lockdown rules state, didn't wear a mask as lockdown rules state, and clearly didn’t social distance as a picture of him with Anderson taken during the meetings shows they are not two metres apart as lockdown rules state, which means that he had to spend two weeks self-isolating as a direct result 

Has anyone told Keir Starmer that The Board of Deputies weren’t on the ballot for Labour leadership?  Because by his performative act of refusing to restore the party whip to Jeremy Corbyn after his performative suspension, which he did after the BoD stamped their feet and demanded the whip not be restored, he’s not doing a good job of demonstrating leadership

First of all it was news that Steve Bannon uses Twitter, as surely he should have flounced off for Parler years ago.  But secondly, the real news is how he used his Twitter account to call for Anthony Fauci to be beheaded - at which point he suddenly couldn’t use his Twitter account anymore

According to Iain Duncan Smith putting the UK into a second lockdown is “giving in to the scientific advisors” as if during a pandemic, which the last time I checked was a scientific matter, you should instead be listening to Julia Halfwit-Brewer, Dan Wootton, Alison Pearson or Isabel Oakeshott rather than people qualified to talk about what to do in the face of a global pandemic 

Nice Guy Rishi Sunak proposed a return of Eat Out To Help Out for Christmas.  You know, the thing which has been directly linked with causing a spike in Covid numbers in August?

Tory arrogance was neatly summed up by George Eustace casually saying that, if Lurpak didn’t want to incur the massive price hikes of Britain crashing out of the EU without a paddle, all they have to do is move their entire base of operations to the UK

The fact that Disney have been trying to justify their refusal to even issue royalty statements to Alan Dean Foster for his novelisations of the Star Wars and Alien franchises and have simply been pocketing the revenue made by the books continued sales by claiming they only purchased the license and not the liability, which is a particularly unique interpretation of copyright law

It was only a matter of time before The Daily Mail started trying to create dirt about Marcus Rashford because he has the sheer gall to say that feeding children is not a bad thing, which they did by reporting the horrors of him...buying a house for his mother

Twitter troll Ben Bradley had a stellar month, first by standing up in Commons and asking why there isn't a Minister for Women while also showing a terrifying inability to understand what equality is, and soon followed that up by quoting Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech by claiming that it was about equality - only for Bernice King to tell him that, no, her father’s speech was about eliminating racism from our society

I think that it's time for The Daily Express to admit that, when they're running articles saying that it’s Remainers who are to blame for Trump getting dumped onto the street, that maybe they have a problem

The Streisand Effect still hasn’t reached WWE judging by their continuing to double down on demanding their employees independent contractors stop earning money via third-party platforms manifested in their releasing Thea Trinidad from her contract in spite her Twitch account always being under her real name and not her WWE moniker of Zelina Vega

It was a coincidence that the Jewish Labour Movement decided to hold their annual conference on the Palestinian Day of Solidarity.  Of course it was...

This month it was Fin Taylor who demonstrated just how far from satire HIGNFY has strayed with his “Bomb Glastonbury and kill all Jeremy Corbyn supporters” joke in response to Joan Bakewell lying about Corbyn breaking the law - and, afterwards, Taylor was generally being a smug twat about it on his Twitter - which also serves to show how Tim Davie is fine with booking comedians whose acts have plenty of questionable content contained within it if it guarantees the Tories escape criticism

This month’s example of Steve Baker making himself a walking punchline with no self-awareness came from him howling that further lockdown measures would be a violation of terms set out by the European Convention on Human Rights - yes, the exact same convention that Baker has a.) Repeatedly accused of meddling with British affairs and is an example of the EU nanny state, and b.) Frowns upon things such as Steve Baker repeatedly voting against allowing child refugees to be reunited with their families

Nothing says “worker happiness” quite like GameStop running a competition for their stores to post Tik Tok dances where the store which is voted the winner receives prizes such as an Amazon Echo, a Visa gift card, and the privilege of working an additional ten hours during the week of Black Friday.  Wait, did I say “worker happiness”?  I meant to say “Dickensian shithousery” where employees are expected to compete so they can work more hours

Of course the “We’re not racist”s of Twitter had an issue with Sainsburys Christmas ad because it didn’t appeal to white men due to having a black family, in much the same way that Compare the Market’s ads don't appeal to white men as they’re not Russian meerkats

Professional victim Laurence Fox thought it would be a good idea to get into a slanging match with The Pogues while lying that Fairytale of New York would be banned from the airwaves.  It went about as well as could be expected

It wouldn’t be Remembrance Day without The Sun or The Daily Mail exploiting it for some obvious ragebait, and this year was no exception with both “papers” posting a photo of Extinction Rebellion posting with a banner in front of the Cenotaph protesting climate change - a photo taken two days earlier, but they held off on posting it until the day itself to get the rage flowing, because they needed something as neither Jeremy Corbyn nor Meghan Markle were within a mile of Whitehall

This month it was Ernest Cline who demonstrated a lack of understanding of the Streisand Effect by ordering DMCA takedowns on anyone who posted an excerpt of Ready Player Two online, which mainly served to help the internet realise which the actual excerpts were and which the parody versions were - because it was pretty hard to tell them apart otherwise...

“I’ve been silenced”, shrieked Suzanne Moore in an interview with the Telegraph, fatally undermining her argument in the process.  Funny how the people who have been “silenced” keep doing that, isn’t it?

Because we haven’t heard anything idiotic from Jake Paul in a while, Jake Paul decided to say Covid isn’t real and flu has killed just as many people.  So I give it a week before his older brother Logan feels he has to one-up this and say the Holocaust was fake...

And finally, not for much longer, is Donald Trump and his complicity in trying to organise a coup - but not a very good coup, as his minions at Fox News had to exaggerate how many people were actually protesting about him losing an election and crying about it - which was further undermined by his inability to tell Michigan and Minnesota apart

[hadarlaskey]

Folklore: The Long Pond Studio Sessions

It’s been a decidedly cinematic year for Taylor Swift, whose 2020 has so far included the release of both Miss Americana and the concert film City of Lover — not to mention the most recent two in an uninterrupted streak of (so far) six self-directed music videos.

In July, Swift released her eighth studio album, folklore, recorded totally in secret alongside go-to collaborator Jack Antonoff, The National’s Aaron Dessner, and Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon. This month, she’s managed another surprise in the form of folklore: the long pond studio sessions (lower caps Taylor’s own), a concert-documentary hybrid in which the same crew performs the album live. Released Wednesday on Disney+ as part of an ongoing partnership between Swift and the media conglomerate, it’s her debut feature in the director’s chair.

The film moves between Swift, Antonoff, and Dessner as they explain the songs’ origins and play them at New York’s Long Pond Studios. Like many things this year, the bulk of folklore was assembled remotely, with the trio mailing each other files until it was time to be mixed. “I think it’s really important that we play it,” Swift says. “I think it will take that for me to realize that it’s a real album. Seems like a big mirage.” A bandana-masked Vernon joins them remotely around the 20-minute mark to perform “exile,” the album’s only duet.

While Miss Americana was chock-full of tabloid and personal drama, Swift has given herself the space in her own film to keep things strictly about the music; everything that comes up does so either to colour or elaborate on the work itself. Each of the trio is skilled at discussing their craft(s), and Swift and Antonoff are especially captivating in their one-on-one chats. Dessner, for his part, comes most alive in the studio.

Despite not physically appearing in the film, Joe Alwyn somehow has an even bigger presence in it than he did Miss Americana. Swift confirms that William Bowery, a mysterious figure credited as a co-writer on multiple songs from the album, was indeed Alwyn operating under a pseudonym. He’s apparently a talented pianist with a knack for both composing and songwriting, having written the first verse and “entire piano part” of “exile” as well as the chorus of “betty.”

folklore the album was a massive flex of Swift’s power as an artist: it became her seventh consecutive number-one album, even in the absence of a traditional rollout. It was also her first to come with an explicit label — symbolic in its own way of a new chapter. With this in mind, Disney’s involvement in folklore the film feels stifling. There’s no doubt that Swift’s fans will flock to the platform, but she’s made a major artistic compromise in working with a company that insists on muting her “fuck”s. This matters at several points during the album, but risks ruining the chorus of “betty” in particular.

The film is nevertheless a triumphant debut from Taylor Swift the feature director, and, I predict, just the first of many. What it lacks in technical seamlessness — filmed with a robotic camera, equipment appears in the frame at multiple points — it makes up for in musical adroitness and a coziness that’s very welcome as the season turns.

ANTICIPATION. Taylor Swift’s feature directorial debut? I would like to see it. 5

ENJOYMENT. “betty” just isn’t the same without its “fuck”s. 4

IN RETROSPECT. Platform-related compromises aside, Taylor’s truly at her best when the focus is on the actual music. 4

Directed by Taylor Swift

Starring Taylor Swift, Jack Antonoff, Aaron Dessner

The post Folklore: The Long Pond Studio Sessions appeared first on Little White Lies.

source https://lwlies.com/reviews/folklore-the-long-pond-studio-sessions/

[sweetsweetamber]

23.06.2020

Emailed this to a friend earlier today.

I have been putting off even beginning to allow myself to process my feelings on this since I found out Zac Hanson was a raging racist, transphobic, sexist piece of shit. The problem is he keeps doubling down on his stance and making it so much worse, instead of letting me delete him from my memory and never have to think about him ever again.

This is so different to when multiple women came forward with allegations against Jesse Lacey. Like the second I found that out I never listened to Brand New ever again. Done, deleted. They were one of my favourite bands too, like the same level as Fall Out Boy, MCR, Panic and anything Andrew McMahon does. It hurt, mostly because I used their music to help me get through dealing with shitty men doing similar things to what Jesse Lacey did. But I haven’t really thought about them since, and I only miss their music sometimes. Maybe one day I’ll be able to listen to it without feeling disgusted, but that time is still a long way off.

I am also not the kind of person to idolise celebrities really? Not since I was a kid, anyway. Like all my favourite bands now, I have no idea about their personal lives beyond probably the mid 2000s. I have no clue what their kids, or wives names are, or even how many kids they have. I don’t even know all the names of the people in the band sometimes! I don’t feel connected to them as a person, I feel connected to them through their art, their music, their lyrics. As well as the fandom, the fans, the concerts, and the things I experienced in my life while listening to their music.

Anyway, here’s a brief timeline of what lead up to the main blowout to help put things in context:

May 25th-27th: George Floyd was murdered and Hanson posts normal content on social media with ordinary fan comments

May 28th: Protests against police brutality happen across America, Hanson shares a post about the rocket launch. A handful of fans (mostly Black and POC) express their hurt and frustration with Hanson in the comments

May 31st: Hanson posts advertising a livestream with an organisation that provides mental health support to musicians. Fans comment pleading with them to do the right thing, other fans start absolutely dog-piling those fans and tell them to stop “attacking” Hanson

June 2nd: Black out Tuesday. Taylor posts a black square and a few people comment asking him to actually say Black Lives Matter. The main Hanson account posts nothing.

June 3rd: Isaac posts on his account that “racism is wrong!” to very mixed reactions. Still won’t say Black Lives Matter.

June 4th: Zac posts about recording a podcast. He responds to a few comments about why he won’t say Black Lives Matter, it turns into a shit show and he deletes all the comments.

June 5th: The main Hanson account makes a post advertising their shitty yearly island vacation but it got blown up with backlash in the comments so they deleted the post. Zac makes a really fucking weird instagram text post, that says “Racism is wrong, but simply saying I denounce racism in a post will not save the life of the next young black man who comes upon it, or the next victim of reckless brutality”. The main Hanson account posts a photo with the one black hand in it they could find and still refuse to say Black Lives Matter.

This is where I jumped in and commented “Open your purse” and got completely torn apart by racist fans. I spent hours fighting back and supporting another indigenous Hanson fan who was also getting hurled tons of abuse in the comments. It was genuinely hard to try to calmly engage with these people who were spewing paragraphs about how Hanson don’t owe us anything and to “stop forcing your beliefs on them”. Whew. I think I blocked like 60 accounts, and had to change all my instagram settings to keep me as protected as possible without having to go private.

I knew Hanson fans were terrible. I found this out while in line for their first concert, when everyone was obnoxious assholes who wanted to brag about how many tens of thousands of dollars they’d spent following the tour (no one in line with me in the mornings were locals or even from New Zealand). The more money you spent, the more of a fan you were in their eyes.

This put me completely off ever going to their yearly fanclub island retreat which had been on my bucket list for at least a decade. The thought of being trapped on an island with Hanson and hundreds of complete assholes put me right off for life.

The funny thing is, I always met the nicest and most amazing fellow Hanson fans in line for other bands concerts? But the second concert I went to really solidified my opinion of Hanson fans being the most entitled assholes ever. I should have known it was only a hop skip and a jump for them to slide over being to racist as hell.

I eventually ended up deleting my original comment because a week later I was still getting angry racists coming at me for a fairly mild but sassy post. Which is hilarious because when Gerard Way made a similar half-assed post on his instagram, nearly every comment was “open your purse” and sarcastic “we stan a king who does nothing!!”. The next day he was like, I fucked up, here are some links and resources, we are redirecting the MCR store page to links to donate etc. There were probably some fans getting angry at the “backlash”, but if there were any I didn’t see it. Just insane to see the difference between two groups of fans for bands that I like(d).

On June 6th, a whole lot of Zac’s personal social media accounts got leaked, including a Pinterest board, youtube account and instagram account. He then he publicly confirmed they were all his because he’s a fucking idiot.

A few days later I got sent a link to the r/PostHanson subreddit, which had screengrabs of all of Zac’s pinterest boards. Seeing all those ridiculous and incredibly offensive “memes” was like a punch in the gut.

I had not kept up with this dude's personal life at all, I have forgotten his wife's name and lost track of how many kids he has after the first one. I just figured he was probably conservative because homeschooled + super religious + getting married quick and churning out babies. I’d never really heard or seen Hanson take a political stance on anything, but I didn’t really follow them too closely.

Apparently it was known to fans that Zac was SUPER INTO GUNS and played airsoft which is basically paintball crossed with modern military reenactment?

His pinterest page was completely full of stuff he’d pinned about guns (so many guns) and second amendment memes, that said things like “an 18 year old is too young to buy a gun, but a 5 year old is old enough to decide its own gender?” and one with a picture of a man and a woman with the caption “I told her guns make me feel uncomfortable, she said we should both see other men” which he added the comment “So true” to. The worst were the ones that were supportive of George Zimmerman.

I felt frightened, disgusted, and upset.

On June 8th the Hanson instagram account finally posted (with comments turned off) saying Black Lives Matter.

Since then, Zac has really just…. doubled down on being a shithead. He’s been posting as normal on his main account, blocking fans and deleting even mildly critical comments, liking the most disgusting comments that racist fans have been posting in support of him - one comment he liked was a fan justifying Zimmerman murdering Trayvon Martin. Also replying to some critical fans, making a ridiculously long comment where he thinks everyone is mad at him for being a second amendment nutter which genuinely made me more upset, angry and scared. He truly is the most dangerous type of white person: uneducated, ignorant, arrogant, and with a massive platform to spread his fucked up views. As someone else summed up so perfectly in a comment on one of his posts:

Too stubborn to look inward and see how their own actions, thoughts and behaviours are problematic. No desire to actually hear out marginalised voices. Instead, they'd rather create their own narrative, they want to play the victim, feign being attacked, deflect from any of the issues brought up, and will do anything BUT hold themselves accountable. Instead, they block black people and other POC (Rule #1 of what NOT to do right now), and will "like" comments of other uneducated ignorant white fans who are blindly loyal to anything he says and also don't care at all about marginalised and underrepresented people. Because it's all about HIM. The Poor, entitled, white man is feeling attacked. Zac, you are less than a man. Your development, somewhere down the line, was truly stunted.You are so brainwashed, so self righteous and so far gone, I don't know if you are even salvageable at this point. You would rather be in your bubble, clutching your guns and "liking" comments on your page that are defending the murder of black children than taking the bandwidth, introspection and WORK is takes to actually evolve and be a good person. As a black woman, at least I know now not to waste another dime of my money on you. Now go do what you do best and block another black voice, or write yet another tone deaf and ignorant response to make POC feel crazy (ie: "I'm sorry you are feeling hurt", "I love you", etc.) SAVE IT. That's more deflection bc YOU as the white man are CAUSING the hurt. If you want to love black people, start with explaining to all of your black fans why you believe a young, innocent black child named Trayvon Martin deserved to die because he attacked George Zimmerman. You were man enough to post it. Be man enough to defend it and stand BY your actions.

So I’m not entirely sure where that leaves me or where to go from here. I feel completely blindsided by the boy I picked as my favorite member when I was 12 grew up to be an abhorrent racist fuckhead. I saw in the subreddit support group someone said it feels like someone died and we are all in mourning, which sounds strange but it really does. The Zac Hanson I thought I knew is dead. He never really existed in the first place, or maybe he did for a short while before all the hate wormed its way into his heart.

I also believe that the type of music you choose says a lot about you as a person, and so much of my identity in my preteen and early teen years are wrapped up in Hanson. Both them as individuals as much as the music - I think that's why I can’t separate them because there has never been any separation between the two for me. I first heard Hanson on MTV with their music video for Mmmbop and decided I was in love with Zac before the song was over. I don’t think I can ever stomach listening to that song ever again.

Everyone makes mistakes, has racism to unlearn etc, but Zac hasn’t even bothered to lie and give us the PR answer of “I’m listening and learning etc”, even if he isn’t. He doesn’t even want to seem like he’s saving face because he truly thinks nothing he said or did was wrong, and that is the most horrifying thing of all.

I don’t know how to move past this. It's very easy to think, “people are flawed so you shouldn’t idolise them” but I can’t just snap my fingers and remove this weird 23 year old bond I have that is a mix of intense love and nostalgia? Like there was genuinely a point at age 13 where I actually truly believed: if he could just come to NZ and lock eyes with me at a concert we would fall in love and get married. Which sounds wild but it's how all 3 of them met their wives so it actually was a pretty solid plan.

I immediately took down my signed photo of the band that I had on the wall though because seeing it didn’t remind me of the happy memory of seeing them in concert for the very first time, it just reminded me that Zac is an awful person and his brothers are probably the same and just better at keeping their views private.

I always wanted to get my Hanson tattoo covered and redone but now I think I’m just going to get it covered. A lot of fans are selling or throwing out merch, but I don't want to do that so I've just packed the few things I have away so I don't have to see them for now.

Thinking about the time I met Zac makes me feel sick. It used to genuinely be the best day of my life that I could think about if I was having a shitty day and think “Hey, remember Zac Hanson hugged you”. I’m just so angry that he has tainted so many amazing and happy memories with the hateful rhetoric he is spewing now. I know over time it will hurt less but everything just hurts a lot right now.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk lmao.

[ts1989fanatic]

Todrick Hall's Comments About Taylor Swift Are All About Support – EXCLUSIVE

Todrick Hall has some famous friends and co-workers. His YouTube channel (which has close to 3 million subscribers) has gotten him worldwide recognition and into the room where it happens with the likes of Beyoncé and Taylor Swift. He choreographed Beyoncé's "Blow" music video after she saw some of his own videos, and his friendship with Taylor Swift got him a featured cameo in the "Look What You Made Me Do" music video. Todrick Hall's comments about Taylor Swift prove that working and being close friends with the star is not what you may think.

Hall and I are on the set of his "Glitter" music video when we sit down to chat about his career. He had already met T. Swift by the time he starred as Lola in Kinky Boots on Broadway in 2016, but it was during this stint in Harvey Fierstein and Cindy Lauper's Tony-winning show that his friendship with the "Delicate" singer really solidified.

"When I moved to New York, I went out to eat with her when I was doing Kinky Boots," Hall tells Elite Daily, "and I had done shows in New York before, but it had been so many years and I felt like I had lost my friend circle. And so I was so happy that she was [living in New York]." Hall says their friendship was a casual one, so he didn't expect her to come see him in the Broadway show.

"She said that she was going to come and see the show and I was like, I'm never going to ask her to come and see it again because I know she's busy, I don't want to pressure her. And she just showed up to the show one day." He says Swift not only saw the show, but she stayed for two hours after meeting, speaking, and taking pictures with everyone in the cast and crew. From then on, he knew he had a solid friend in her.

Hall reveals that, like many on the internet, he believed Swift's niceness was just a front she put on for her famous persona. But he maintains that niceness still holds true in their personal and professional relationships.

"Huge things will happen and she'll be like, 'OK, great. This is what we have to do, this is what the universe has given us, this is what we're faced with. How are we going to fix this?' I would love to handle my minor issues the way that she handles some of her huge issues that billions of people are going to see and judge." He doesn't hint as to what any of those "huge issues" he's talking about are, but her public beef with Kim Kardashian and Kanye West comes to mind, as well as incessant tabloid coverage of her past relationships. (Miraculously, she and actor Joe Alwyn have managed to keep their two-year relationship under tight lock and key.)

"I think that one thing that I really love about her is she has been burned by a lot of people," Halls continues, "and you would think in a lot of ways that she would be totally OK with being a princess locked in a tower that nobody was able to enter. But she's willing to get back up again and trust people again, which is a very scary thing when you're somebody in that position."

Hall has proven himself to be a loyal friend to Swift as well, going to bat for her frequently against Kanye West.

When Swift finally voiced her political opinions in what the internet felt was a long overdue Instagram post, Hall posted on Instagram as well, showing his pride in her decision.

He explained in the lengthy caption that Swift being so guarded for so long about her political beliefs was part of the reason he kept their friendship casual at first. He echoes the same sentiment in our conversation.

Referencing her complete lack of a public political stance over the years, Hall tells me, "She has such power that I don't even think she realizes how much of an affect it would have on people."

He continues, "I was explaining to her that, as a gay person, I didn't know for sure how you felt about gay people and I was a little bit nervous to talk to you about my love life or whatever." And he recognizes the criticism she would receive for not voicing her political opinions before the 2016 presidential election.

Many people justifiably feel that Swift, with such a powerful influence over newly 18-year-old potential voters, could have done much more political advocacy in 2016 than just posting a picture of herself with an "I Voted" sticker. When you have a platform as large as Swift's, it's easy to see how not using said platform in a tumultuous political time would garner heavy criticism. Some of that criticism, Hall says, was pointed at him as well.

As a gay man of color, Hall tells me that people online occasionally placed the onus of getting Swift to "come out" as a democrat on him.

"Sometimes, people would give me flack online that she wasn't doing certain things," he tells me. "I love the fact that she has grown and evolved in her own time, as every artist has to do." He continues, "It can be very scary to potentially risk your career or your reputation to stick your neck out for something when you don't have to do it. You don't have to stand up for gay rights, you don't have to voice your opinion, and you'll sell the same amount of records. But somebody who truly cares about the way this country is falling apart and will take it upon themselves to use their voice to do something — that, I believe, is just the right thing to do."

She did that when she officially endorsed democratic candidates running in Tennessee elections in 2018 (and there was a massive surge in voter registration as a result). But Hall recognizes this was overdue. But Hall knew that being a good friend meant supporting her decision, regardless of how late it was.

So when Kanye West tweeted that he was "distancing" himself from politics, Hall couldn't help but laugh (and call the rapper out on Twitter).

“Well well well Miss @kanyewest," he said, "while I’m thrilled that you claim to have hopped off the Trump train, I cannot help but bask in the irony that you are now ‘distancing yourself from politics’ while the girl everybody was dragging is now promoting a blue candidate like it’s her job." Look what you made him do, Kanye! Elite Daily reached out to West's team for comment on Hall's tweets, but did not hear back by the time of publication.

All tea and shade aside, Hall tells me that Swift is one of those friends who is basically a therapist for him, and vice versa.

Throughout their entire friendship, however, they never had the chance to work together. That is, until Swift asked him to be in the "Look What You Made Me Do" music video.

"I feel like I owe her money for the amount of therapy that she's given me for the boys that I've dated," Hall quips. He reveals that he hasn't always approved of her past relationships either, although he stays tightlipped on just which of her famous exes he's referring to. (Booooo.)

"I think that it's easy to be surrounded with a lot of 'yes' people," he says, "but with Taylor, there was somebody that she was dating that I didn't necessarily approve of and I was definitely very honest with her about how I felt about it. She just would always be like, 'Thank you so much for your honesty.'"

"I feel like it is the most expensive music video that's ever been created in history," Hall jokes.

Outside of working with his bestie on the video, Hall says it was a wonder to see director Joseph Kahn at work on the video. Kahn has directed a large number of Swift's videos in the past, including most of the videos from Reputation. The biggest were "Look What You Made Me Do" and "...Ready For It?" both of which Hall was on set. To perform in the former, and just observe the latter.

"It was amazing to watch [Joseph Kahn] work and to see everything," Hall says, adding, "I was also on the set of '...Ready For It?' to watch that as well. And it was just really, really awesome and to be able to hear the song and to see the sets. I make videos for a living, but to see the budget of how these sets were built and how amazing they look, it was just insane. I had never seen anything like that before in my life."

He brings up his choreography for Beyoncé on the "Blow" music video as a comparison. Beyoncé's self-titled surprise album was famously more low-budget than some of her other videos because it was being kept as such a huge secret, so seeing Swift's massive budget for her Reputation videos was an eye-opener.

"When I did the video with Beyoncé, we went to a location, a roller skating rink, and that's where we did it, so that was the aesthetic of that video," he explains, "But I've never been somewhere where they built an entire world and a cemetery and a thrown and all these things. It was just really crazy to see it and to be a part of it was just really, really awesome."

As for her dancing in the video (people have always trolled Swift for dancing even though she's not near someone like Beyoncé's level), Hall says she's doing it for the joy it brings her.

"Taylor Swift doesn't have to ever dance," he, a professional dancer, says. "She'll still sell the same amount of tickets. She just loves to dance." She danced alongside Hall in the "Look What You Made Me Do" video, and Hall sees it as a huge moment of pride. He tells me, "She was scared at first, she was for sure nervous. But once we saw the playback and I was like, 'You look amazing,' she just kept going in more and more and more and more. Every single time, she'd give it more energy, more performance, and now I see her dancing in [the Reputation stadium tour] more than she's ever danced before. And I'm just so proud of her."

This is why he gets his own membership card

[nemolian]

Real Genius turns 35—celebrating this cult classic is a moral imperative

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Mitch (Gabriel Jarret) and Chris (Val Kilmer) play young science whizzes trying to build a 5-kilowatt laser in the 1985 film

Real Genius

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TriStar Pictures

Back to the Future justly dominated the summer box office in 1985, but it's too bad its massive success overshadowed another nerd-friendly gem, Real Genius, which debuted one month later, on August 9. Now celebrating its 35th anniversary, the film remains one of the most charming, winsome depictions of super-smart science whizzes idealistically hoping to change the world for the better with their work. It also boasts a lot of reasonably accurate science—a rare occurrence at the time.

Real Genius came out the same year as the similarly-themed films Weird Science—which spawned a 1990s TV sitcom—and My Science Project, because 1980s Hollywood tended to do things in threes. But I'd argue that Real Genius has better stood the test of time, despite being so quintessentially an '80s film—right down to the many montages set to electronic/synth-pop chart-toppers. The film only grossed $12.9 million domestically against its $8 million budget, compared to $23.8 million domestically for its fellow cult classic, Weird Science. (My Science Project bombed with a paltry $4.1 million.) Reviews were mostly positive, however, and over time it became a sleeper hit via VHS, and later, DVD and streaming platforms.

(Spoilers for the 35-year-old film below.)

Fifteen-year-old Mitch Taylor (Gabriel Jarret) is a science genius and social outcast at his high school. So he is over the moon when Professor Jerry Hathaway (William Atherton), a star researcher at the fictional Pacific Technical University, stops by the science fair to inform Mitch he's been admitted to the university. Even better, Hathaway has hand-picked Mitch to work in his own lab on a laser project. But unbeknownst to Mitch, Hathaway is in league with a covert CIA program to develop a space-based laser weapon called "Crossbow," designed for precisely targeted political assassinations. The only remaining obstacle is the weapon's power source: they need a 5-megawatt laser, and are relying on Hathaway to deliver.

The first act is a nerdier version of the classic fish-out-of-water tale, as Mitch arrives at Pacific Tech and tries to fit in. His roommate Chris Knight (Val Kilmer), is a senior who was once a bright young star like Mitch, but has since rebelled against the high-pressure academic grind and embraced a goofy YOLO approach to life, urging his fellow students to allow themselves to blow off a little steam now and then. Mitch butts heads with Kent (Robert Prescott), a less gifted older protege of Hathaway's who is jealous of the attention Mitch receives.  He finds friends and allies not just in Chris, but also fellow science nerds "Ick" Ikagami (Mark Kamiyama) and Jordan Cochran (Michelle Meyrink), a hyperactive young woman who rarely stops talking or inventing gadgets, and by her own admission almost never sleeps.

Then there is Lazlo Hollyfeld (Jon Gries), a former star student who cracked under the pressure and is now an eccentric hermit living in the dormitory steam tunnels. Fun fact: Lazlo's steam tunnel hideout, accessible through Mitch's closet, is an elaborate homage to Leonardo da Vinci. As depicted when Mitch finally figures out how to gain access, it features a multidirectional elevator built out of a small car controlled by a rotating screw. The car descends to a horizontal track and propelled forward by a hidden drive chain. The automated scribbler Lazlo uses to submit over a million entries to the Frito-Lay Sweepstakes was inspired by a sketch in one of Leonardo's notebooks.

Eventually, Mitch and Chris succeed in solving the power problem for their laser, only to realize (thanks to Lazlo) that it will be used to build a powerful directed-energy laser weapon. The five of them team up to foil Hathaway's big military test of the system, in their usual eccentrically ingenious way.

15-year-old Mitch Taylor (Gabriel Jarret) is admitted to the fictional "Pacific Tech" to work on lasers.

TriStar Pictures

Mitch's rival, Kent (Robert Prescott) and his rather shady mentor, Dr. Jerry Hathaway (William Atherton)

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Mitch's roommate is the equally brilliant but idiosyncratic Chris Knight (Val Kilmer)

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Jordan (Michelle Meyrink) surprises Mitch in the men's room with the sweater she knitted

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Lazlo Hollyfeld (Jon Gries) is a former genius who cracked and keeps mysteriously going into Mitch's closet—and vanishing.

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Mitch discovers the passage to Lazlo's secret lair.

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Conked out

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Of course Chris sleeps like a pretzel.

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Chris engineers a "pool party" so everyone can let off some steam.

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Jordan and "Ick" Ikagami (Mark Kamiyama) help Chris and Mitch take revenge on Kent.

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"Is that you, Jesus?"

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Yes that is a giant pile of unpopped popcorn in Jerry's foyer. All it needs is a bit of heat.

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Hacking a defense department laser weapon provides that heat.

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Hathaway realizes his system has been hacked.

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The team celebrates a job well done.

TriStar Pictures

It fell to film consultant Martin A. Gunderson of the University of Southern California (who has a bit part as a math professor) to help ensure that the science and campus culture depicted in the film were plausible, even if certain liberties were taken. Certain details were deliberately left out, according to Director Martha Coolidge, such as those for Mitch's flash-pumped ultraviolet laser at the science fair, and technical details pertaining to a directed-energy laser weapon. ("We didn't want to inspire any lethal tinkering.")

I've always appreciated how closely the laboratory laser setups hewed to reality: Gunderson himself provided the blue-green argon laser and tunable dye laser used in those scenes. Chris uses a cube beam splitter to create the laser light show announcing the Tanning Invitational pool party that incurs Hathaway's wrath. That said, a 5-megawatt laser had certainly not been achieved in 1985. While Chris's construction of a xenon-halogen laser to solve the power problem was purely theoretical at the time, the underlying scientific details were later outlined in a scientific paper—a fitting example of how science and Hollywood can both benefit from such collaborations.

For the "Smart People on Ice" scene, the crew used a frozen volatile gas, pumped through thousands of feet of tubing beneath the corridor flooring that was connected to a refrigeration unit to keep the gas cold. And as Ick explains when Kent asks him what will happen when the ice melts, the frozen gas shifts directly from a solid to a gaseous state, rather than melting into a liquid.

Then there is the famous popcorn scene that marks the group's triumph over Hathaway. Mitch, Chris, Ick, Jordan, and Lazlo fill his newly renovated house (accomplished with funds embezzled from his CIA grant) with unpopped popcorn covered in tinfoil. They place a prismatic-like piece of glass on the window sill, and hijack the computer during Hathaway's big military test to redirect the laser energy through that window. The kernels start popping, expanding to fill the entire house until it quite literally bursts at the seams.

Real Genius movie clip: Jerry's House of Popcorn.

In a 2010 interview with the AV Club, Atherton revealed that the studio had six ten-foot-high air poppers devoted to popping popcorn all day for three months, filling a massive storage tank. Since the popcorn had been treated with fire retardant to keep it from combusting, additional measures had to be taken to ensure the birds didn't eat it. All that popcorn was then carted out to a new subdivision being built in Canyon Country just northwest of Los Angeles, and then stuffed inside a Victorian frame house specifically built for the film. That way the crew could pull the whole thing down in the climactic scene, with the help of an elaborate network of conveyor belts, hydraulic lifts, airblowers, and vacuum hoses. "Now they'd do it digitally, I guess, but in those days, you had to pop the dang popcorn and put it in a truck and schlep it out to the valley," Atherton said.

As evidence of the film's enduring popularity with the nerdy set, the Mythbusters decided to test the feasibility of popping that much popcorn with a laser and destroying a house in 2009. The initial test went well: the team successfully popped a single kernel wrapped in aluminum foil with a ten-watt laser. Unfortunately, they weren't able to get a sufficiently powerful laser for their scaled-up experiment, relying instead on a large pan used to cook the popcorn via induction heating. They also built a scaled-down model of the house in the film with a piston on the floor, pushing popped popcorn upward, to see if it could generate sufficient force to break apart the house. Alas, the Mythbusters determined it would require several tons of force. So myth: busted. But it's still an entertaining movie comeuppance.

Real Genius is admittedly a bit cheesy. The plot is predictable, the characters are pretty basic, and the dialogue can be clunky. And it goes without saying that the sexually frustrated virgin nerds ogling hot cosmetology students in bikinis during the pool party reflects hopelessly outdated stereotypes on several fronts. But the film still offers smartly silly escapist fare, with a side of solid science for those who care about such things. And its yearning idealism is a good antidote to the current prevailing cynicism.

via:Ars Technica, August 9, 2020 at 11:25AM