Generation Kill: Nothing But Depression

Generation Kill, the adaptation of gonzo journalist Evan Wright’s account of spending time with Recon Marines in Iraq, reaches and pass the midpoint of its seven-episode arc tonight and brings on very difficult emotions.

The series itself, on a purely aesthetic and televisual level, is wonderful. The acting is pitch-perfect, the language is reassuringly filthy and the characters well-judged. You’d expect nothing less from The Wire’s David Simon and Ed Burns for sure, but the performances and characters, which started to come into shape last week and are likely to develop further towards total actualisation, are outstanding and at least empathetic given their situation.

The problem with watching the series, and it’s not a problem as such but certainly becomes somewhat off-putting at points, is the relentless anger and depressing machinations of the storytelling. The Wire itself is a howl of anger at the social injustice of America between those in poverty and the elites, particularly regarding the impact on those at the bottom of decision made at the top. Certainly in its first four seasons, that’s the key issue of the show, understanding institutional power and the individual.

The same concerns arise in Generation Kill but, due probably to it being a single mini-series run rather than a five season expanse like The Wire, they are utterly furious. Each episode contains at least one moment when the powers that be will make decisions that fail to understand the true nature of war and the procedural needs of the Iraq conflict. In the last episode, the Recons are sent to take over an airfield before British paras can get there so the glory will fall on their commander. Just prior to this decision being made, the troops launch a strike on a small city and believe they have destroyed Baath headquarters. Rather than go to investigate this, as is suggested by the commanders on the ground, they travel north through the country to the airfield and leave the city behind.

Generation Kill is a less a howl and more an explosion of fury. There is a helplessness to the plight of those on the ground against the literal fools in charge. Encino Man, a surrogate of their chief on the ground, is quite literally a complete idiot while the commander of the unit, Captain America, is not only stupid but reckless and paranoid. All figures at the top are glory-hunting fools intent on creating legend for themselves, those on the ground are aiming to try and do it right, to get by with poor machinery and weapons and to follow orders they know could be wrong.

The series is brilliant, both in terms of its exploration of masculinity and the unique mind of a soldier and in terms of its railing against American military procedure. But this, alongside No End in Sight and Taxi to the Dark Side, is just relentlessly depressing in portraying the bone-headed mistakes made to create the unwinnable war now going on.

For another articles Generation Kill, check this and this out.

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Diggin

Music: I’ve been considering since yesterday the concept of ‘favourite albums’ following the Poptimist column on Pitchfork. It is a very individually definable phenomena and one that can change over time vastly. I’m going to write about it in full very soon. But this has prompted me to think about that exact deal and the two albums that I keep coming back to, Daydream Nation by Sonic Youth and Let It Be by The Replacements, have been getting a good chunk of play this week.
The Dodo’s Visiter album is growing on me and I got hold of Blue Cheer’s Vincebus Eruptum this week, a loud and slow proto-punk masterpiece. I’m still really unsure about My Morning Jacket’s latest which is a little too Prince-pastiche for me in places.
Camille remains on the playlist with her new record and I rediscovered one of my girlfriend’s favourite records this week, Joy Zipper’s American Whip. The album is among the most heartfelt and beautiful in the collection but avoids any sense of soporific lameness by maintaining a posturing cool and recalling the most dreamy parts of JAMC at all times.

Film: Lots of films watched this week. You can read my reviews of Bandit Queen and Alice in the Cities on Screenjabber. I’ll tell you in preview that I enjoyed one much more than the other.

Diggin

Music: I’m really loving two new records this week. First is No Age’s Nouns, the follow-up to their much-hyped EP compliation Weirdo Rippers. It’s streamlined noise-pop mastery at its best and manages to rattle through its songs fast enough that any sense of pretension or posing never materialises. The other is the amazing Music Hole by a capella chanteuse Camille which expands on the rough-hewn fun of Le Fil and creates a tangible world for her to exist in.
I managed to get hold of two great Jim O’Rourke soundscaping albums (Bad Timing and I’m Happy, I’m Singing, And a 1,2,3,4) and they are proving fantastic for working. As a general rule of thumb, krautrock and motorik electronica are efficient soundtracks for writing. I’m still obsessed with Bon Iver’s For Emma, Forever Ago which might be my favourite album of the year so far.
I got to see Sebadoh play Bubble & Scrape live as part of the Don’t Look Back series from ATP and that was some experience. The crowd didn’t quite get the concept fully, constantly requesting during the album portion of the show, but the band were affable and in good spirits so they took it well. For the record, it’s a much better album live.
Elsewhere, the new Scarlett Johannson record has a couple of nice moments but is mostly a slightly misguided folly. Death Cab for Cutie’s follows the trajectory of Plans in being good enough but not really closing in on the brilliance of Photo Album, We Have the Facts and We’re Voting Yes and their masterpiece, Transatlanticism.
Portishead are reassuringly brilliant and Wolf Parade are spiky but not fully satisfying. I haven’t absorbed My Morning Jacket’s Evil Urges yet but first listen reveals an album falling somewhere between the church-hall grandiosity of the first two and the slinky brilliance of Z.