Wading Into the Cascio Tracks (With A Good Pair of Rubber Boots)

After writing about my initial encounters with the apocryphal Michael Jackson Cascio tracks and my subsequent, even more damning reassessment, I thought I should close out my epic trilogy by trying to explain exactly what I find so interesting about these songs, above and beyond the sordid theories surrounding their genesis. The twelve tracks run the gamut from desperate imitations of past Michael Jackson hits to bland early-2000s pop songs that don’t really fit anywhere into Jackson’s oeuvre. And in spite of the fact that they were clearly intended to sound plausibly like real Michael Jackson songs – whether to encourage Jackson to record them or to encourage us to accept their legitimacy – the number of jarring details and out-of-place touches must serve as either a sign of unabashed creativity or, much more likely, sheer incompetence.

Here now, in brief, are capsule reviews of a few of the more interesting Cascio tracks of the nine that were, we can only assume, deemed too obviously fake to receive any sort of commercial release. (And again, I can’t find these in any form other than the clunky Jungle Vibe links, so you’ll have to navigate through and select each one from a longer list of songs in order to bask in the warm glow of its implausibility.)


Black Widow (Listen)

This track was intended to fit into Jackson’s vast catalogue of songs within the “Misogynistic screed about opportunistic women who attempt to take advantage of our hero, serving as a distraction from much deeper issues with the artist’s sexuality” subgenre. And to be fair, although it’s pretty on the nose, it’s actually not a bad hommage to Jackson. The guitar has some punch, and faux-MJ proves that he can do a better Jackson imitation when yelling and grunting than when he attempts to duplicate Jackson’s inimitable dulcet tones. (Of course, it still doesn’t sound like Jackson, but you knew that.) But in spite of the songwriters’ efforts to make the song sound like a circa-1991 Michael Jackson B-side, they can’t resist throwing in a bizarre operatic interlude, helping to pad the song to its unjustifiable 4 minute and 50 second running time. The slowdown really brings out the jarring fakeness of the singer’s voice, too!


Ready 2 Win (Listen)

It’s tempting for me to focus solely on the Cascio tracks that are good or at least interesting, and it’s a weary obligation to ensure that I not neglect the most anodyne and useless of the set. “Ready 2 Win” definitely fits that description – the problem starts with the orthography of the title, and it doesn’t get any better from there. It’s so uninteresting that I can’t find much to say about it except for singling out the opening “Doo doo doo”s for special scorn. The song tries to build to a rousing Gospel choir-infused climax, as heard in authentic Michael Jackson songs like “Man in the Mirror” and “Keep the Faith”. But unfortunately, the choir in this case seems to be composed entirely of Jason Malachis, somewhat reducing the impact. Truly, a song that is not Ready 4 Primetime. (Heh, heh.)


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Pity Poor Malachi

Four months ago, I wrote a typically discursive post about my Aspergian Michael Jackson obsession. I was supposed to follow up on it by talking about how my MJ Hoax-induced angst had segued effortlessly into more philosophical forms of despair. But fittingly enough, I got too busy living my life, such as it is, to occupy myself with either the provenance of “Keep Your Head Up” or even meatier questions.

Here’s the capsule version, though: At the same time that I was trying to figure out whether the real Michael Jackson was ever known to overdo it with the vibrato, I ran afoul of an article at The Atlantic entitled “There’s No Such Thing As Free Will“. I couldn’t think of any rational refutation to this article, and felt a bit silly that I had clung so tenaciously to the indefensible notion that we possess some sort of free will that exists completely outside the normal laws of causality. If we can’t speak of a dog or a horse having freedom to choose, why should we assume that we do just because the forces that interact to determine our actions seem a bit more complex on the surface? The unnecessary answer to this rhetorical question is that not clinging to this delusion will make a person go absolutely batty. Although I managed to stop somewhere short of madness, it did put me into a funk. The funny thing is, though, that I had crept right up to this idea in an earlier post without ever taking it to its utterly damning logical conclusions.

The funny thing about us humans (or at least us Bloggerbelses), though, is that we can allow ourselves to be shaken by new developments or realizations – like a diagnosis of illness or the realization that the whole concept of moral agency is a ridiculous sham – and then gradually move on from them in spite of the fact that absolutely nothing has changed. And that’s what I did, until I managed to free up the more philosophical corners of my brain for the more urgent task of listening to more spurious Michael Jackson tracks.


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Michael Jackson, Free Will(y), and the Dark Night of the Soul – Part 1

Part 1: Michael Jackson and the Most Depressing Form of Procrastination

The Gloved One himself (glove not shown). The Man in the Mirror. The Smooth Criminal who is also a Thriller and he made a song called Billie Jean. Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Jackson_(actor)

Well, I’ve certainly had a rough few days. I’ve felt sapped of motivation to do anything, my moments of joy were brief and fleeting, and everything I cooked turned out kinda crappy. My sorrow had many causes: The return of regular water cuts in my neighbourhood (though so far without any accidental flooding!), too much isolation, and my ambivalence toward my imminent departure were some of the reasons. But as is so often the case, much of my sadness was the result of reading dumb stuff on the Internet.

It all began, as all things in life do, with Michael Jackson. Like many people, I jumped on the MJ bandwagon soon after his death: I think the outpouring of grief over the death of someone who I had thought of as a washed-up joke helped alert me to his true stature as a pop musician. (Or I really just wanted to pile onto the bandwagon – either way!) In spite of the baggage surrounding him – the insane fans, the Elephant Man’s Bones, and not least of all his insecurely blackmailing the media to force them to refer to him by the unfortunate title of “The King of Pop” – I realized that he was an artist with an amazing, one-of-a-kind voice, loads of songwriting talent, and some pretty snazzy dance skills and fashion sense, to boot. In the course of a four-decade career he managed to release a handful of classic albums, as well as some inconsistent ones that nonetheless featured some pretty impressive highlights.

That said, he’s one of the biggest pop stars of all time, so I’d rather introduce him with a non-album demo track:

Like many pop music-loving sheeple, my interest in MJ was recently renewed by the really-quite-good Love Never Felt So Good from his posthumous Xscape (ugh – that title) album, especially in the gloriously pandering, modernized (because the ’70s are modern again) remix featuring guilty pleasure Justin “Offensive Wedding Video” Timberlake. (It’s certainly a few notches above Timberlake’s maddeningly anodyne Can’t Stop The Feeling, a bloodless piece of prefab pop whose #1 success eradicates any faith in humanity engendered by the success of credible artists like Beyoncé, Adele, or… Justin Timberlake in a better song.)

So last week I was doing my part by giving the song its 65 millionth Spotify play (dance… lemme see ya move…), and a few clicks through the Spotify wormhole led me to Jackson’s first posthumous release, the creatively-named Michael, an album I had somehow overlooked – probably because my life was more interesting at the time than it is now!


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Celebrating Manila’s Cheap Coffee Renaissance

Obligatory photo to accompany article: Hockey legend Paul Coffey. Source: http://hfboards.hockeysfuture.com/showthread.php?t=1641273
Obligatory photo to accompany article: Hockey legend Paul Coffey. I’m not saying he’s cheap, though; I have no reason to believe he is not a perfect gentleman. Source: http://hfboards.hockeysfuture.com/showthread.php?t=1641273

Something wonderful is happening in Manila right now – something that too few people are commenting on, even as that effervescent, unmistakable sparkle of magic fills the air! That is, cheap coffee is starting to get really good.

For too long, coffee in Manila has been divided between between the dodgy and the highfalutin. On the dodgy end of the spectrum, you could plop yourself down at the local corner store and order a sachet of 3-in-1 instant coffee mix for a few pesos, and get an incredible sweet coffee-like beverage that is more palm oil and sugar than actual coffee. (I will make an exception for Kopiko Brown and Black, two instant coffee mixes that contain even more empty calories than their competitors, and don’t get much closer to tasting anything like actual coffee, but do have the significant advantage of actually tasting really good.)

On the other end of things, there has long been no shortage of places for the beautiful people and those who wish to be seen as beautiful to plop down more than 100 pesos for a cup of actual coffee or, more popularly, a shot of espresso and 500 calories of sugar and whipped cream. When you want to take the best possible selfies while also getting a bit of caffeine in the process, Starbucks, The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, and their various competitors are always there to satisfy your cravings. I personally avoid these options, not just because of my pathological cheapness, but also because I am opposed to paying western prices or higher for a cup of coffee that is being served to me by people making decidedly less-than-western wages. All the more so in a country that grows a good amount of its own coffee, if only anyone would bother to drink the local stuff – which I can say isn’t the best coffee I’ve had, but is actually pretty damn good! (Please, support your local barako farmer!)


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On Animal Cruelty and the Virtues of Keeping My Mouth Shut

My neighbours a few houses down seem like nice enough people. We greet each other pleasantly from time to time, and I remain grateful for the time, back when I was originally house-hunting in the neighbourhood, that they let me step inside their house and use their landline to call up the owner of the house that I would eventually rent. They also run a tailoring business out of their house, and I have to assume they did a good job of fixing the hole in my jean pocket, although I haven’t actually worn the jeans since I got them back.

Unfortunately, my neighbours also have two medium-sized dogs that they keep confined in very cramped cages, not much larger than their bodies. I don’t think this is from simple lack of space – their house, while not lavish, looks reasonably roomy and comfortable. But the dogs probably aren’t pets in the way that westerners would understand; they’re treated more as living burglar alarms, which is a fairly common practice here. I do hear the dogs bark from time to time, as you probably would if you had to spend your life inside a small cage, but the noise isn’t really much of an issue – mostly I just feel bad every time I pass by the house and witness their deplorable living conditions. (I won’t be posting a photo here, both because I’d rather make a boring post than a painfully sad one, and also because I don’t want to make my otherwise pleasant neighbours wonder what kind of malfeasance I’m involved in.)


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In Defense of Manila’s MRT

Probably not a good photo for an article with the title “In Defense of Manila’s MRT”. Source: http://mrt3.com/index.php/news-page.html

When people talk about how bad the public transit in Manila supposedly is, they like to hold up the MRT as an example of all of its supposed dysfunctions. It’s so crowded!, they say. It’s always breaking down! Sometimes it even falls off the tracks! It’s a death trap!

Well, I came not to bury the MRT, but rather to… OK, not praise it, but at least offer a measured defense of it. So let me speak up on behalf of the MRT, since trains and tracks cannot speak for themselves:

It is absolutely indispensable. Manila’s train network may be woefully inadequate, with 14 million+++++ people being serviced by a total of 3 train lines (LRT1, LRT2 and MRT) with only 44 stations in total. (Compare Mexico City, a city not known for its cutting-edge infrastructure, still managed to build a whopping 195 metro stations.) And of the three train lines, all of which suffer from malfunctions, random aircon breakdowns on hot afternoons, and severe overcrowding during rush hour, the MRT is the worst: in spite of being the busiest of the three train lines, it has the smallest cars, and suffers from the most technical glitches. Being roughly pushed into a jam-packed MRT car at rush hour as the humble air conditioning struggles to keep up with the sheer outpouring of body heat is quite the experience indeed.

Nonetheless, the MRT has always been the most useful mode of transit for me in Metro Manila. For one thing, it runs along EDSA, a road which provides access to most of Metro Manila’s main commercial centres, and which you could credibly argue is the single most congested thoroughfare in the entire country. An MRT ride, though sometimes traumatic, can potentially reduce a 2 hour road journey to 25 minutes. The ridiculous 40 km journey from my home in Muntinlupa to my occasional workplace in a far-flunt area of Quezon City is only made bearable by the MRT, along with my dear friend the Skyway. (However, on a not-unrelated note, I’ll be quitting that job soon, because traveling 40 km in Manila will never not be hard.)


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Expressway Jeepney Gate Galleria

Keen-eyed Bloggerbels readers will know that when I go to Alabang, I usually take a jeepney. And in the course of many trips to Alabang to eat delicious and inexpensive S&R Pizza (before I went gluten-free), drink coffee at the nicest McDonald’s in the Philippines (the one on Commerce Ave), or visit the public market to buy beef bones for my dogs (THEY LOVE IT!), I noticed something interesting.

Express jeepneys that are fortunate enough to take the South Luzon Expressway to Alabang instead of the horribly congested National Highway are required to have a gate covering their back entrance, one which can be locked shut while on the expressway – unlike most jeepneys, where you just hold on tight and try not to fall out of the back. I eventually realized that each one of these jeepney gates is, as with many things in the Philippines, unique, custom-made, and in many cases quite endearingly improvised. Each one has its own mechanism for locking, too: Sometimes involving hooks, other times wire or even string. All this uniqueness can often be quite bewildering for the passengers near the rear of the jeepney, who are asked with shutting the gate as the jeep nears the expressway.

And so, with the crappy camera that I carry around with me in my man-purse at all times, I have endeavoured to document all the shapes and sizes of jeepney gates that valiantly prevent passengers from bouncing out onto the expressway between the Susana Heights and Filinvest exits.

Aside from the crappiness of my camera, allowances also have to be made for the fact that I took most of these photos from inside vehicles that were rocketing down the highway, bouncing all over the place and shaking uncontrollably while trying to squeeze out every ounce of juice they could muster from their refurbished tractor motors. Oh, and I had to do it while trying to not look like a total weirdo creep – something that’s not very easy to do when you’re taking out a camera and photographing God-knows-what inside a crowded vehicle full of strangers.

SAM_3316 (more…)

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Some Positive Thoughts

Do you know someone who causes you a lot of frustration? Maybe you find them obnoxious or petty. Maybe their mere presence grates on you terribly. Maybe you have to work with them everyday, and just being around them makes you hate your job.

Or maybe you know someone who is smarter than you, or more attractive, or more charming, or who makes more money than you, or is more successful with the opposite sex (or their preferred sex, whatever that may be). Maybe the envy you feel towards them just eats away at you from the inside every time you’re around them, or even when you’re not.

Well, don’t worry about it… because one day they’ll be dead, and so will you!

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Climate Change and the Three Jewels

Source: https://www.wunderground.com/climate/greenland.asp
Source: https://www.wunderground.com/climate/greenland.asp

Climate change scares the shit out of me. I don’t think I’ve ever cursed before in this blog, but climate change scares the shit out of me. We are all… well, I don’t think I wanna use a word even more offensive than “shit”, but we are all basically doomed, unless the Chinese discover a miraculous source of unlimited clean energy or we manage to narrowly avoid utter catastrophe through some sort of wacky geoengineering scheme. Perhaps that’s why Elon Musk is working on his Mars colony?

If you want to cry, or perhaps just redouble your efforts to retain your sanity through sheer force of self-delusion, here are more reading materials to convince you that we are all fu… I mean, doomucked:

There are certainly rosier assessments of the climate situation, and the idea that we’ll all be extinct within 15 years isn’t exactly a mainstream opinion among climate scientists,  but I’m pretty sure the world will at least be a hot mess (ha, ha!) within a couple of decades. Of course, you are welcome to convince yourself that everything is fine because at least Iceland is colder than usual. And hey, El Niño! Unfortunately, your remarkable capacity for self-delusion will run out sometime before you are up on your roof with a rifle, shooting at starving looters who are trying to break into your food storehouse. (more…)

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