You probably haven't heard about it.

Four out of my five classes this semester are located in the 623 S Wabash building, so I feel like I’ve seen everything in that lobby. But sitting on the plastic designer chairs when the lobby is cleared is something that feels decidedly less “Columbia” than I expected. Everyone that is leaving the building seems to have two different modes. They’re either leaving for good, or just going out and shivering for a couple of minutes while smoking. The smokers don’t carry any of their bags with them outside, and sit on the ledge of the window for their nicotine fix. My classmates and I note that not much is going on, because it’s not a time when classes are either starting or ending. Instead, we see some small talk between the security guard and random passersby, and hear the faint chords of Christmas music coming from the cafe. The people who come out of the elevators keep to themselves as they leave the building, or are in duos that are talking quietly. The lack of noise is somewhat disconcerting. It doesn’t feel enough like Columbia, but more like a hotel lobby with a lot of people who wear scarves. But the chill in the air from the front doors opening reminds me that I’m in Chicago, and the twang of cigarette smoke in the air reminds me that I’m at Columbia, where this is the norm.

I don’t often go to The Underground Cafe in 600 S Michigan, but what always strikes me is the smell down there. It’s nothing unpleasant, it’s just something so foreign to my nose that I get confused. It’s a mix of cleaning products, sandwiches, and old coffee (somewhat of a staple in the kitchen of an art student). It’s something I will always relate to this specific place. This visit is one of the more loud experiences I’ve had down there, as there was a group of about 8 students yelling, swearing and laughing in the corner. I feel like The Underground Cafe is quite figuratively underground when it comes to Columbia students. Most people don’t know about it, and even if they do, they never go down there. It’s got a calming white and grey color palette, save for the lime green chairs that I feel like only an arts school can pull off. There’s indie music playing on the loudspeakers. Only at Columbia do I have the inane thought that it might be a student artist playing. The people here by themselves are all working. They’ve either got their Macbooks out, or they’re on one of the provided Mac desktops on the far counter. I can already see the stress of upcoming finals on their faces because I know it’s also written on mine. Undoubtedly, the space will be more filled in the coming week, and the space will feel like more of a coffee shop than a college hangout, but the carefully designed posters haphazardly overlapped on the wall will still tell us that this space is designated to Columbia, and only Columbia students can feel at home here.

Everyone's Invited to Dave Chapelle's Block Party

Throwing myself into the world of the unknown isn’t something that I do very often. It’s easier that way, and I don’t have to try to understand something new. By watching Dave Chapelle’s Block Party, I felt as if I was thrown into the deep end of the world of hip-hop and neo-soul. However, Chapelle’s constant presence and the occasional performance from the main stage made me feel like there was a life preserver for my drowning sanity.

Block Party runs as every concert documentary does. Under the direction of famous visionary Michel Gondry, Chapelle is seen passing out tickets to his show, and scopes out the history of the venue. When the block is empty, he talks about how he can “see it filled”, and the film cuts to shots of the venue being packed with people. However, upon further thought, you find that Block Party is more than your stereotypical concert doc. It divulges into the sense of community and family that is felt within the fans of the music. It tells about the power of music, and how it can be used as a conduit for good, as opposed to the bad that some people mistake it for. The focus turns to the feeling of the music and the emotions that it evokes in people, instead of the music itself.

One of the things that truly struck me about the film was just how many people showed up and were excited about the concert. I personally live in a world outside of hip-hop, and never quite understood the pull that the music has until now. Objectively, I realize that the genre is popular and creates a lot of money in the industry, but I never really thought of the people who listen to it until now. With just Chapelle’s name, they came out in droves to this concert in the middle of Brooklyn. I felt that the most interesting was the Central State University Marching Band. Chapelle offers to transport the entire drumline to the concert for them to perform with Kanye West. The band actually gets permission from the school president to cancel their previous commitments (something rarely done in the realm of marching bands) in order to go to the concert. The elation on their faces is something rarely seen in documentaries. It’s refreshing to see that amount of hope and joy in their screaming faces and they hug each other tightly.

The night before we watched Block Party, I had stayed up till almost 5 in the morning watching livestreams from New York City of the eviction of the Occupy Wall Street camp in Zucotti Park. Through my tired haze, the ending scene of the movie is what really struck me, because of the political relationship to the movement. The scene shows Wyclef Jean of The Fugees chatting with the marching band about what they would do if they were President of the United States. The members give some hopeful responses, such as getting the military out of Iraq and Afghanistan, and for band participants to get scholarships to their school. Jean then goes into a solo piano performance of his smooth ballad, “President”. The lyrics to the song are a much darker and more heartfelt version of the students’ answers.

Instead of spending billions on the war,
I can use that money, to feed the poor.
I know some so poor, when it rains that's when they shower,
when screaming "fight the power".
That's when the vulture devoured

It’s interesting to see that, as a country, we haven’t moved past these same problems that we had in 2004. Seven very long years have gone by, but if anything, the problems seem to be escalating at a rapid rate that no one can stop. When I typically think of hip-hop music, one of the first things I think about is the lyrics that I can never quite understand. Jean uses this song in particular, because it’s slow, and gets the message across. We need change, and music is one way to get through to people. It gets to us on a level that no one else can touch. Especially for these students, who are young adults, and still trying to find their way around in life. When he begins to leave the students, Jean passionately speaks to them as equals, by saying that they should never expect things from “the white man”. They need to go follow their dreams for themselves, because nothing will ever be given to them. And while that description may not sound particularly uplifting, when it's coming from the mouth of Wyclef Jean, the people will listen.

I think that Chapelle’s main mission with the movie was to make neo-soul and hip-hop music more accessible to the general public. Although a majority of people who went to see the movie in theaters probably was either a fan of Chapelle or the various artists, by making this movie, he had a chance to reach a broader audience. For instance, the owner of the Broken Angel house, where the block party took place, explains to the camera that she doesn’t like hip-hop and rap music. She doesn’t think the language is “proper”, for either children or adults. However, by the end of the film, we see a clip of her throwing up a peace sign from the rooftop of the house. I think this gives a sense of acceptance and tolerance that Chapelle tries to give to all audiences.

Block Party is a new and interesting look into the typical concert documentary. It gives us a glimpse into a different culture, one that we may or may not already be familiar with. And instead of just throwing the culture in your face, it gently guides us to a land of acceptance and appreciation, no matter what your musical background may be. Even if you can’t recognize the musical artists on the poster, Chapelle acts as an anchor for the whole project, and keeps you grounded in the new territory.

South Park: It's Just Not Funny to Me

I don't think I'll ever understand the appeal of these characters.

As a child, my parents never really restricted the television shows that I couldn’t watch. However, after a couple minutes of viewing at my cousin’s house, my mother banned me from watching one thing: South Park. It never bothered me as a child, nor as a teenager. The animation didn’t interest me, and from what I’d seen, the voices were about as annoying as a fly buzzing in my ear. So before writing this review, I’d never seen a full episode. Now, I’ve seen two, and I don’t think I’ll ever need to waste another 22 minutes of my life on that show again.
I might have taken the wrong approach in choosing what episodes to watch. Starting with the pilot and season one didn’t interest me, especially when I remembered reading an article with Matt Stone and Trey Parker. The creators stated that they would take back the entire first three seasons of the show if they could. So armed with no knowledge of the plot or characters, I threw myself into the deep end with Season 10, episode 8, “Make Love, Not Warcraft”.
The premise isn’t that difficult. The main characters in the series are addicted to playing World of Warcraft and they all get killed by a super powerful creature that is unstoppable. So they spend the episode getting progressively physically fatter while their game counterparts level up. Although I don’t play any video games, I know a bit about WoW. It should have been an amusing episode. It really, really wasn’t.
Because of the notoriety of the series, I expected something mildly offensive, but ultimately something that would at least make me chuckle. I honestly found nothing funny about the episode whatsoever. Between the stereotypical WoW player with zits and potato chips down the front of his shirt and a serious gross diarrhea gag, I just found nothing entertaining. Not to mention the grating character voices. (Because seriously, I don’t know if I can get over how much of a headache these two episodes gave me.)
Despite a disappointing start, I soldiered on. Although Stone and Parker had ordered their personal favorite episodes in the above interview, I sort of went through the list until something seemed appealing. That something was season 9, episode 6, “The Death of Eric Cartman”. This episode, while more offensive to religion and racial stereotypes, actually made me chuckle twice. Chuckle. Not even a full blown laugh. The story is basically that everyone ignores Cartman to the point where he believes he’s dead. The only person who can see him in the class’ most optimistic, yet anxious, member, Butters. It’s an interesting concept, one that’s I’ve seen a few times before, but never with this much depth. Butters and Cartman travel to see a psychic, atone for Cartman’s errors, and manage to save a hostage situation in just over 20 minutes.
Although I knew the show had been on for years, I never fully understood the magnitude of its cultural importance. It’s been airing since 1997, and has aired over 200 episodes. Truly a staggering number, given the show’s roller coaster ratings and criticism from just about every group and organization there is. It’s the type of dumb, offensive, disgusting comedy that I never found myself enjoying when I was the target age group, let alone now. I don’t know what sort of comedy I like the best. I just know it’s something far away from whatever South Park throws against the wall.