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ISSUE THREE EXPLOITS JUNE 2018 an UN WINNABLE publication ART vs. ARTIST by KHEE HOON CHAN THE BALLAD OF BLACK TOM • MONSTER HUNTER WORLD • PERSEPOLIS • FREAKAZOID • TOUCHE AMORE • Editor in Chief | Stu Horvath Exploits Managing Editor | Melissa King Music Editor | Ed Coleman Books Editor | Gavin Craig Movies Editor | Amanda Hudgins Television Editor | Sara Clemens Games Editor | Alyse Stanley Cover art by Robert Hunt, from The Ballad of Black Tom Copyright © 2018 by Unwinnable LLC Unwinnable 820 Chestnut Street All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof Kearny, NJ 07032 may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission www.unwinnable.com of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For more information, email: [email protected] Unwinnable LLC does not claim copyright of the screenshots and promotional imagery herein. Subscribe | Store | Submissions Copyright of all screenshots within this publication are owned by their respective companies This machine kills fascists. ART vs. ARTIST by Khee Hoon Chan ike most sullen, angsty teenagers from the ‘90s, I was obsessed with emo, whil- Ling my days away on music from brooding white boys like Taking Back Sunday, Brand New and Hawthorne Heights. Brand New’s music had a huge presence in my formative years, with frontman Jesse Lacey’s dour posturing, caviling howls and logorrheic lyrics giving voice to the inexplicable emotions of teenhood. However, in light of revelations about his sexual violence, their songs have become abhorrent and unlistenable. The joy of listening has been replaced by outrage and guilt, as if my enjoyment made me complicit in his crimes. To reconcile enjoyment of a work with the revolting toxicity of their creator, some propose we separate the art from the artist. In the 1967 essay “The Death of the Author,” French critic Roland Barthes posits that the work and its creator should be perceived as unrelated to one another. This is about disregarding the author’s views, religion, ethnicity, psychology or personal attributes when interpreting their writing. Yet, plenty of works are intrinsically tied to the creators’ psyche – especially for the majority of emo bands and, for instance, the self-deprecating humor of comedian Louis C.K. – and it’s impossible to consume these media without bringing them up. Worse, some industries have overlooked the atrocities of their most bankable stars for decades, justifying that art should be beyond the scope of punishment while perpetrators are forgiven upon the slightest of apologies. From the moment we accept the idea of separating the art and its artist, we become culpable of the latter’s transgressions. It allows us to stave off epidemics of abuse, freeing us to continue enjoying the works of talented offenders as a fan. To do oth- erwise and confront the reprehensible origins of the media we consume can be chal- lenging, because they are often intrinsic to our identity. We take immense pride in the things we love. It’s impossible for me to ignore the pang of sentimentality when I listen to Brand New’s “The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows,” but I can’t sim- ply park the multiple sexual allegations – which include years of manipulation and child grooming by Lacey – at the back of my mind as I listen to his band’s music. To draw the distinction between art and artist would be a morally reprehensible move. So, how can we move on? I’m afraid there isn’t an easy answer. We can start by believing victims when they speak out against their abusers. We can support artists who are more deserving of our time. Most of all, when similar waves of revelations spreads across the media we love, we should focus our efforts into reducing our complicity in these systems – and ensure that abusers the likes of Jesse Lacey, Louis C.K. and Bill Cosby will never be able to stage a comeback.U MUSIC TOUCHE AMORE – Hardcore punk is a by two minor car crashes, relationships gone youth-driven genre. Few bands last longer wrong, money shortages, and a postponed than a few records before quitting, or evolving college graduation due to a clerical error. It beyond its creative boundaries. To wit, there all culminated in developing a stress-induced were reasons Ian MacKaye and company left anxiety disorder (which a college counselor Minor Threat behind, and eventually formed said was similar to a mild form of PTSD). Fugazi (no disrespect to either). When healthy coping mechanisms failed, To an extent, Touche Amore are an excep- those records kept my head above water. The tion to this rule. The Burbank-based five- cover art for their first LP, a stark black-and- piece have been around since 2007, releasing white sketch of a kid biking headlong into a four full-length albums along with over a rainstorm, mirrored my own sense of going dozen splits and EPs, maturing their sound it alone against impossible odds. Underneath without abandoning their roots. The band’s the darkness of frontman Jeremy Bolm’s lyr- early records were the soundtrack to the most ics, though, a knack for anthemic dynamics difficult parts of my mid-20s (I’m now over driven by frantic guitars and a pummeling 30), confronting themes of anxiety, self-sabo- rhythm section lent those songs an urgent tage and other light-hearted topics for dinner sense of life-affirming optimism. table discussion. They acknowledged things were bad, but Between the release of their 2009 debut gave me the push to keep going anyway. full-length … to the beat of a dead horse and Recently, the band released a single titled 2011’s Parting the Sea Between Brightness and “Green.” That would imply they’ll be announc- Me, I hit an almost comically dark stretch of ing a new release soon. If so, it’ll be the first bad luck, made worse by lack of adequate self- new Touche Amore record I’ve spent much care. A major family crisis was compounded time with since 2013’s Is Survived By, having MUSIC mostly bypassed 2016’s Stage Four. That isn’t P LAY L I ST because it’s a bad record. On the contrary, “Bet Ain’t Worth the Hand,” by Leon Bridges it’s easily their best work to date, and maybe even a generational high-water mark. It’s just “Infrared,” by Pusha T too emotionally raw to casually consume. “Le temps de l’amour,” by Francoise Hardy Dealing directly with the death of Bolm’s “The Moor,” by Lebanon Hanover mother, it’s an unflinching exploration of mortality and depression (the fourth stage of “This Is America,” by Childish Gambino grief). He talks about losing patience when “I’m Deranged,” by David Bowie she wouldn’t eat while in a degenerative state (“Flowers of You”), and intentionally ignor- “Bubblin,” by Anderson .Paak ing the phone call informing him she had “It’s Gonna Be A Beautiful Night,” by Prince passed away moments before taking the stage on tour (“Eight Seconds”). It’s a meditation “Summon Satan,” by Advance Base on grief, guilt and the emptiness that settles “Disco 2000,” by Pulp in when you’ve run out of second chances with the ones you love. “Honeycomb,” by Deafheaven It’s not ideal office music. Then again, it “Q.U.E.E.N.,” by Janelle Monae isn’t meant to be. It’s abrasive, unforgiving “Heir,” by Public Memory and the best record ever written that I can’t handle hearing. Maybe one day it’ll find its “You Dropped A Bomb On Me,” by The Gap Band way into my regular listening rotation. For “Lunacy,” by Swans now though, I’m not crying. You’re the one fucking crying. “State Trooper,” by Bruce Springsteen – BEN SAILER Listen now on Spotify BOOKS The BALLAD of BLACK TOM – With The Ballad of Black Tom, Victor LaValle accom- plishes something amazing. In it, LaValle revisits H.P. Lovecraft’s story “The Horror at Red Hook.” Lovecraft wrote the story during a period of culture shock when he left his sheltered existance in Provi- dence to live in a New York City teeming with immigrants and minorities. His wife later recalled that, when he found himself in a racially mixed crowd, Lovecraft would nearly lose his mind with rage. The resulting fiction is easily the man’s most explicitly and hys- terically racist work. LaValle retells through the perspective of Tommy Tester, a black man. The beats will be familiar, even if you haven’t read Lovecraft: A rich old white guy named Robert Suydam attempts to use dark magic to remake the world and things go ter- ribly wrong. When they do, it is Tommy, not Suydam, who stands at the center of things, supernaturally transformed and vengeful. Lovecraft’s work has long been synonymous LaValle hews closely to the structure of the with cosmic horror, despite the absurdity of original story and is adept at deploying outré something as limitless as the universe being chills in Lovecraft’s mode, but the cosmically contained within the ideas of just one deeply indifferent entities that lurk on the edges of flawed man. In recent years, many creators the page pale in comparison to the raw hor- have expanded the definition of cosmic hor- ror of every day racism that Tommy experi- ror beyond the boundaries of Lovecraft. In ences when he becomes embroiled in Suy- The Ballad of Black Tom, I see what I hope is a dam’s schemes. When Suydam tries to recruit definitive schism.

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