G U I T A R D E D !

Originally GUITARDED! was going to be purely guitar-related topics (hence the title). But last night I caved to the realization that GUITARDED things are happening all around, right under my geeky guitar nose.

Girl Talk

Through a set of unusual circumstances involving queen size bed sheets, a blonde bombshell, and an unemployed consultant with a multi-level midtown apartment, I ended up at a free show by Girl Talk. Produced by the car company [sponser me] at a warehouse pier on the West Side Highway, the show involved laser lights (sweet), cardboard robots (tall), confetti (excess), and free sodas by [sponsor me]. Apparently everyone there test drove a [sponsor me] to get a ticket to the show. Not I; that was the work of the blonde.

Being the guitar geek that I am, I had never heard of Girl Talk. Before the show, at the consultant’s apartment, I was told Girl Talk was essentially a guy (Gregg Gillis) onstage with a laptop. Excited by the prospect of experimental music, I hyped myself for the equivalent of PLOrk (Princeton Laptop Orchestra) until I realized the background music we’d been listening to was Girl Talk. Bizarro pop mash-ups did not sound like my idea of a good time. I was reassured that it was “really cool”, one of those you-have-to-see-it-to-believe-it deals. The way I saw it, free is free, and I could always leave early to catch Fringe on Hulu before bed.

Assuming you’ve never been to a Girl Talk show, it’s a spectacle. Imagine Jason Schwartzman at a laptop surrounded by 17-year old (mostly white) kids onstage dancing around like buffoons. Imagine Schwartzman flailing his body with the beat while hyping the crowd and taking off his clothes between songs. Giant balloons filled with confetti bounce overhead while a scantily clad Asian girl shoots toilet paper through the crowd with a leaf-blower. Don’t forget the 12′ x 12′ video screen flashing images of cheeseburgers, pot leaves, text messages, after-party invites, and other nonsense. Now imagine it’s way cooler than it sounds. And try to imagine it’s 3 AM (it’s not, it’s 7 PM), because 3 AM’s cooler for this type of foolery, in case you weren’t sure.

The hardest part to admit is that aside from the spectacle and myriad hipsters who crossed rivers to get there, the music was stellar. I’ve yet to listen to it with “critical ears”, so to speak, but it works live, and works well. Mostly mash-ups of hip-hop/rap beats and pop songs any Brooklyn vegan or young Goldman stud would recognize, the music flowed for 30-40 minutes at a time. I won’t bother with the legal ramifications of mash-ups and musical collages, but I hope Gillis has a good lawyer. The more interesting facet of the music was its irresistibility. Had I not had two sets of queen-size bed sheets to keep an eye on I’d have been dancing. Though Girl Talk proclaimed repeatedly on the video screen, “I’M NOT A DJ” (Sure, and Kanye West is an artist.), this music begs you to move. Let’s just say I look forward to seeing Girl Talk in a club less conducive to standing around gawking at exhibitionism. It only takes a few times until the video flash “LETS SEE CELL PHONES” gets old.

On a more cultural note I was reminded of Neil Postman’s 1985 book “Amusing Ourselves to Death”. Not that I’ve read it, but Girl Talk made me want to. More to the point it reminded me of famed food researcher Howard Moskowitz, whom Malcolm Gladwell has written about. “The mind knows not what the tongue wants,” said Moskowitz. And how! I doubt I’d ever listen to Girl Talk’s music outside of a live show or have take the initiative to discover it of my own accord. Inversely, some of my favorite obscure jazz is most tolerable on record and puts me to sleep live.

Neal Hefti’s probably turning in his grave (see here), but any way you spin it, Girl Talk is GUITARDED!