My Morning Jacket with Tails

This past Thursday I caught the second night of My Morning Jacket’s two night engagement with the Boston Pops at Symphony Hall in Boston as part of the Pops’ genre-bending “Edgefest” series. In my own mind, collaborations between rock bands and symphonies will forever be defined by the gaudy drama of Guns ‘n Roses November Rain (which, admittedly, was bitching). Absent, however, from MMJ’s gig with the Pops was any of that over-the-top-ness. Rather, the collaboration was understated, artful, and thoroughly enjoyable.

To be sure, during a few numbers it felt and sounded as if two groups were simultaneously sharing the stage rather than playing together. During those songs the Pops woodenly moved through their arrangements of MMJ songs while MMJ played as if it were business as usual, disregarding the array of musicians behind them on the stage.

But these were outweighed by more moments of intertwined brilliance. The two groups were largely conscious of one another and worked to play together and off of one another. Often the strings or the brass would pick up the lead guitar line or the melody. The most satisfying moments occurred when the Pops filled in the space carved out by Jim James’ airy vocals, as in “I Will Sing You Songs” from It Still Moves. The Pops brilliantly filled the space between James’ vocals and the rest of his band without ruining the haunting emptiness that makes so many MMJ tunes compelling.

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What is Art? Are We art? Is Art Art?

I saw lots of interesting paintings at the Rittenhouse Square art show yesterday. Not that I really think I have a great eye for artistic appreciation, but certain paintings could even have been said to move me. This, combined with the recent discussion about Belle and Sebastian (and about how much we appreciate works because they are "derivative" or "original"), I have a few questions about what it means to appreciate certain works.

The problem struck me when I saw a painting that was highly reminiscent of what I had been taught was impressionist art. Later, at another display, I saw a painting that was almost an exact replica of one of Claude Monet's "Japenese Footbridge" paintings. I liked it, even though it wasn't by Monet.

So that got me thinking about how there are some pieces of art -- and musical works -- that offer nothing new, in the sense of technical or creative innovation from what came before it, but that can still move us. On its own, the work may be great. But I'm convinced that context does matter.

Should knowing any art history affect our appreciation of that fake Monet work? I think the obvious answer to this question is yes.

Does it matter who comes up with the bulk of technique we value in a work? If this new impressionist whose work I saw yesterday changed a tiny bit of what he or she saw in Monet and then called the whole work his own, should and do we still value it? And to bring it back to the Mongrel's main topic, how do we react to a Belle and Sebastian song that largely sounds like it was ripped off Love or the Zombies? And does that make us appreciate Belle and Sebastian, as a band, less than if we hadn't known about Love or the Zombies? If it does, does that devaluation in turn translate to the music itself? Even though the music is essentially the same thing as that Love or Zombies song that moved us?

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