Recommended Reading #11: Goodbye Paradise
Recommendations, musings, and your next weekend's recommended reading, lovingly curated by Aida Baghernejad.
Hi and Hallo dear reader,
I’m sitting at the San Francisco airport writing this, after having taught a workshop on (cultural) journalism to 11th graders at the German school of the Silicon Valley yesterday. It was my last engagement here in California before I leave the state next week to go on a roadtrip all across the country for a month and then, in late October, move back to Germany.
I can’t believe it’s been four months since I arrived in Los Angeles. And how incredibly thankful I am for the past sixteen weeks. I arrived at the Thomas Mann House with a lot of plans, and while quite a few did not come into fruition, it’s been an incredibly fulfilling time that gave me space to think freely, plot new ideas, expose myself to new perspectives.
In today’s newsletter, you’ll find all the recommended reading and films and music you know and love from this lil’ publication, but I’ve also written a longer and a little soapy essay about my time in LA. I’m nothing if not sentimental.
If you’d like to buy me a coffee to keep my mind sharp on our roadtrip from LA to New York during the *entirety* of October, you can do so here. As always, don’t feel like you have to catch up on all the stuff I write about. You have my *explicit permission* to simply skim this email until you find something that speaks to you. Life is too short for a bad conscience, we need good vibes now more than ever, don’t we?
Whoop whoop!
Report: “America’s favorite pastime is amnesia”
Just ahead of our big roadtrip across the US where I absolutely plan on seeing as much land art as possible (unfortunately neither The City by Michael Heizer, although I have certainly tried to get a reservation in 2023, 2024, and will continue to try in the future, nor Turrell’s Roden Crater for which I simply don’t have enough fuck-you-money to afford the 5k “donation” to enter), I really appreciated What to make of land art in the era of LandBack in High Country News. It discusses the tension between the sheer awe these monumental pieces of art evoke and them being manifestations of colonialism and the ideologies of American exceptionalism and manifest destiny, where the quote above comes into play. Many things can be true at the same time, and many layers of history intersect in uncomfortable ways – and this piece is a good reminder that there’s no easy answers anywhere.
Opinion: Why do you want to rot in bed when there’s a world to explore?
The past few days I’ve repeatedly wondered whether I’m already an old woman yelling at clouds. And maybe I am – my birthday last week pushed me into what officially is my late thirties, I guess. But that’s an aside to this interesting substack post I read a few days ago about how and maybe also why staying, eschewing life outside, and “rotting” in bed has become an acceptable hobby to young(er) people – at least judging from those who are extremely online. The title is harsh and maybe also a little bit mean, but as someone who often prefers staying in and struggles with a tiiiiny bit of being way too online, but also, you know, really likes being around other people and has made it their job to go out into the world, this was an illuminating read.
Music: The musical education of Jamie S.
If you’re into music that will make your brain do funny things, you’re probably into Xiu Xiu. I’m not making the rules, that’s just how it is since Jamie Stewart founded the band in the early 2000s. To nobody’s surprise, that’s exactly who I am – and now you can probably guess how excited I was that they actually agreed to take part in an event Benno from the Thomas Mann House and I cooked up: listening to music that inspired them together and dive into the sounds that shaped Jamie personally and professionally as a musician. You can listen to the whole conversation now over at the Dublab archive – it’ll make you want to go back and seek all the songs out (and for that, I got you: here’s the Spotify link with all songs except Éliane Radigue’s Transamorem Transmortem).
And while you’re at it, listen to Xiu Xiu’s freshly released seventeenth (!) album 13” Frank Beltrame Italian Stiletto with Bison Horn Grips. Xiu Xiu’s development over the years is really interesting, moving across genres and forms of expression – and this one is no exception, fusing their trademark abrasiveness, experimental adventurousness, and viscerality with pop sensibilities. Opener Arp Omni is nothing but stunning, the line “I have done almost nothing right / My entire adult life” delivered calmly, yet teeming with emotion was a beautiful, beautiful punch in the gut I’ll happily go through again and again.
German rapper Ebow was a Villa Aurora fellow last year, and we’re also part of the selection committee for Berlin’s Musicboard. So, not only do I know her, I’m also simply a fan – to me, she is one of the most unique rappers/spoken words artists in Germany. FC Chaya, her new record dealing with queer love and desire, is no exception. The deeply personal Ebru’s Story is incredible, Chayas Worldwide sounds very much inspired by the Golden Age of Westcoast rap.
Five Dice is a way too fun way to gamble away whatever’s in your pocket – and Bright Eyes taught me to play the game when I got to interview them a few weeks ago. Like every indie kid worth their salt I obviously lived off of Oberst’s lyrics for the better part of my late teens, which isn’t necessarily the best starting point to interview someone. But fortunately, the interview was absolutely lovely and very funny. If you have a penchant for very dark humour, that is – and you can read it over at Zeit Online "Manchmal glaube ich, dass ich Musik hasse" (accessible link here). Although I think about some of the jokes differently after he had a bit of a meltdown on stage recently and the band cancelled the rest of the tour.
I didn’t expect their new record Five Dice, All Threes to still touch me after all those years, but except for some minor weird sound experiments, I really enjoyed it. Hate is wonderfully offensive AF to literally every single human being in the world, Rainbow Overpass is a fun punk tune for all of us who struggle with intrusive thoughts, the Cat Power collab All Threes is all lovelorn lament in a smoky jazz bar (and includes a Musk diss, what’s not to love there), and to think that this is the first time Matt Berninger of The National and Conor Oberst sing together on a record on The Time I Have Left???
I met Leif Vollebekk a few years ago when Anton was his tour manager for a few shows, and I’m so pleased to see his fanbase grow and grow since. Such a dedicated musician, and terribly, terribly nice human! Put his fifth record Revelation on this weekend, and just stare into the sky or cuddle up in your favourite chair. You’ll have a good weekend.
I don’t know what to write about Mustafa the Poet’s Dunya, except that its beauty is exquisite. To think that folk-y singer-songwriter Mustafa spend the majority of his career writing for Camilla Cabello, the Jonas brothers, or Justin Bieber is quite the unexpected fun fact – but once you listen to the harmonies that would equally well lend themselves to BIG pop, it makes perfect sense. A few songs less and a few more experimental sounds might’ve made it a bit more timeless.
I wrote about Kit Sebastian a few issues ago – I love their dreamy anadolu with a twist sound. New Internationale is their Brainfeeder debut, and it’s a glittery, shimmery beauty which will be the perfect soundtrack for a little shimmy in the kitchen this autumn.
Opinion: There is virtue in hating
I just finished watching the truly abhorrent eighth season of Selling Sunset including extensive perusing of the corresponding subreddits. Why? I don’t know. Maybe my brain needs a break sometimes, maybe I enjoy seeing horrible people behaving absolutely horribly, or maybe I want to gather evidence against the worst people on earth, luxury real estate dealers. Anyway, as you can see, I am not a stranger to hate watching, which is why I felt first attacked, and then seen by Alissa Wilkinson’s I ❤️ a Hate-Watch. Don’t You? – and if you’d rather listen to it, here’s Wilkinson and two of her colleagues discussing their current favourite hate watches on the podcast The Culture Desk.
Film: Love is a losing game
Dating is equally horror, slapstick comedy, and dark satire. Which makes Anna Biller’s super-DIY body-horror-comedy-satire The Love Witch from 2016 the probably most perfect film ever made about the topic. Biller distilled self-help literature, feminist theory, and 60s aesthetics into an insane narrative about a modern witch in California whose quest for love has rather bloody consequences. It’s wonderfully camp and over the top with its lush aesthetics and subject matter – but always takes you, the audience, seriously. 10/10, no notes, will watch again and again for the rest of my life.
Book: Of Caves and Cosmos
A few weeks ago, the Villa Aurora fellow and a+ human Laura Stellacci and I went to Rachel Kushner’s book release (moderated by Kim Gordon, omg!), and honestly, afterwards I had more questions than answers. Which is a good place to start the book from – but even after rushing through it within only a few days, I’m not much closer to understanding it. But in a good way! Creation Lake, already shortlisted for the Booker Prize, is equally eco/spy thriller, ode to the Neanderthals, and a meditation on being. We follow ‘Sadie Smith’, a woman without an identity (is she human? Is she a cyborg?) infiltrating a French farming commune. That’s pretty much it for the plot – but honestly, it doesn’t even matter. The novel grows beyond the plot, beyond Sadie, beyond her assignment. Influenced by French leftist/anarchist schools of thoughts (Debord features heavily, and she talked about the writer Jean-Patrick Manchette and weirdo Jacques Camatte. To me however, the group appears heavily inspired by organisations like Tiqqun/Comité Invisible), the book sometimes feels as if it’s made of vapour, it left me lost, confused – and delighted about it all. Yes, the descriptions of Europe can be a bit cringe, and yes, a character that’s physically super attractive and perfect and is very much aware about this, can be a bit blah. But overall it’s definitely a novel we’ll be talking about for a while to come.
On a personal note: Four Months in the City of Angels
The 11th graders this week asked me whether I’d recommend study abroad programmes and where I would go if I could start all over again, and I told them what I keep telling any- and everyone: if you can leave your country at some point in your life for a while, do it. And I believe it really doesn’t matter where you go, really. The most important experience is that of being a stranger, of being uncomfortable, of standing in a supermarket and not being able to make sense out of its set-up right away, of being a nobody in a new place.
I’m aware that this is a great privilege in so very many ways. The simple act of choosing to leave instead of having to is probably the greatest. And not everyone can afford to go abroad (I’m lucky to have grown up in Germany and Europe during a specific point in time, where this was easily done and government support was available) nor is it possible for those among us who may have to care for (chosen) family or need accessible care themselves. But I’m so deeply grateful I’ve had the opportunity time and time again, as every single time I went abroad for extend periods of time rewired my brain in interesting, challenging, rewarding ways. It’s humbling, and I mean humbling, as in feeling awkward, small, and lost, but also free, brave, and self-reliant. And I wouldn’t be the person I am without having felt all of this at various points in various countries, while almost crying in the bus because I didn’t understand jack shit of what the driver tried to communicate to me.
From all the cities I’ve spent time in, Los Angeles is one that I knew a bit before relocating to and it’s in the country I’ve known best next to my own, but it’s also one of the strangest, most intense and intriguing places I’ve ever lived in. Two years ago, the last time I visited this vast megapolis, I read Everything Now by Rosecrans Baldwin (since then one of my most favourite nonfiction books!), and he describes this place as a city state and its own independent territory. Reminding me less of its sister city Berlin (lol), but rather of Tehran with its arid climate, cockroaches, urban freeways, stark inequality, and neverending lust for life, it is nowhere and everywhere at once. Its contradictions and simultaneities make my brain take new shapes: diversity and segregation, incredible beauty, vast riches and abject poverty, freedom and suppression, fantastical, head-in-the-clouds, and terribly rough and tough. LA feels like a space of extremes, perpetually liminal, never finished, always emerging anew.
And it’s also been a very particular time to be in the US with an election cycle unlike any other. Assassination attempts, a sitting president stepping down from his own campaign only a few weeks ahead of election, an unforeseen frenzy around his replacement, catladies, couches, sex, lies, and videotape. It’s a long way to November, and I’m not sure I or anyone will still have the mental capacity to stomach it all, but obviously I can’t look away, either. And wouldn’t want to – it may be the downfall of democracy, but it’s really good entertainment, too. Yet even as a pop culture critic who’s dedicated her life to the intersections of popular culture and politics, my head’s spinning with just how meme-ified and popculturally charged this election cycle has become.
Being in the Thomas Mann House itself however was also an experience unlike any other. Living in a shared house as a grown up can be challenging, and living in a space that’s simultaneously private and public, that’s yours (for a limited amount of time), but also very much a space for national representation, is definitely a balancing act. Its beauty however stunned me every single day and truly, truly never got old. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that a place like this exists, and that I’ve had access to it in a such an intimate way. And I’ve been incredibly lucky to have had so much support from the team at the house who’ve made so many great events and connections possible for me, and have shared the living space with people I’ve admired, became close friends to, and who’ve inspired me.
I thought I’ll finally make time to read Der Zauberberg (Magic Mountain) and Doktor Faustus, especially as Mann had written the latter here in the house, and I spent four months living in his former bedroom. But alas – it didn’t quite feel right. I’ve returned to some of his political essays however when I was in desperate need of solace after the European elections and some regional elections in Germany, and damn, I forgot what a serve “Letter to Germany” is. I’ve barely ever worked in his study – I expected to use it regularly, yet realised that the weight of writing where a nobel laureate wrote is a tad too much when I’m someone who spends their time thinking about what the Hailey Bieber smoothie at Erewhon means to a society in flux. But I’ll miss smelling the beautiful books in that room although I’m also excited to return to my own study, where paperbacks and not first editions fill my ikea shelves. Writing about smoothies and preparing interviews with indie singers feels a bit more adequate there, gazing over Arkonaplatz.
Wherever you go, there you are – my uncle is fond of this dad joke-y aphorism (and I only recently learned it’s the title of a book on mindfulness and meditation lol). I always thought it’s just one of these stupid things older men say. But being here, I’ve really come to feel it deeply: I’m not going to magically become a different being just because I am in a different place. I didn’t start to work at 6 am like Thomas Mann. I’m still hungry for experiences. I still struggle to focus. I still want it all. I still want too much. Learning to accept these things about myself will be a life long lesson, as it is for anyone of us. But sitting on my sofa in Thomas Mann’s bedroom, I feel as if I’ve come closer, and I’m grateful for that.
So, what will I take away from my time here? Most importantly, a huge file with a bunch of sketched out essay ideas. But also deep gratitude for having had space and time to think and plot and let my mind wander – and to Los Angeles for being this curious place that’s both a manifestation of paradise and hell. Never change, babes, never change.
Some Work by yours truly
You’ve seen my conversation with Xiu Xiu’s Jamie Stewart at Dublab above, and of course my interview with Bright Eyes for Zeit Online, and my taz piece on the smoothie and what I call a hedonism of hopelessness…
But have you read my last Musikexpress column?
Our 55 Voices for Democracy special episode with Patty Jenkins drops in your podcast feed today! Get it everywhere you listen to podcasts.
And I just found out that Annett’s conversation with Los Angeles Times Entertainment reporter August Brown and me about pop and protest for the Goethe Institut Podcast Foreign Correspondents Unplugged has been uploaded too!
Next time we’ll hear from me, I’ll be on the road. While I’m not sure how much I can read and watch and collect for you while crossing this country, I can’t wait to share all that we’ll see with you. As always, I’d like to hear from you – have you seen The Love Witch? Are you as much into Bauhaus (the band) as Jamie Stewart and I? Tell me! If you’d like to keep us caffeinated on the road, you can head to Ko-Fi ☕ Also, feel free to leave a like or comment on Substack which really helps with visibility, tell your friends and foes about Recommended Reading, and all that stuff that’s currency on the internet – you know how it is.
I’ll speak to you very soon,
Aida