Road to Ruin: A Sufjan Stevens-Inspired Soundtrack to Bad Urban Planning

sufj1.jpegBecoming the favorite banjo-playing Episcopalian geography expert and Halloween costume inspiration of NPR listeners apparently wasn’t ambitious enough for Sufjan Stevens. Today at the Brooklyn Academy of Music’s Next Wave Festival—whose lineup also includes firebrand harpist Zeena Parkins— Stevens will present “The BQE,” a symphonic testament to that fount of poetic inspiration, the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. But why stop there? In what follows, I’ll list some of my own favorite urban planning disasters, with accompanying theme music for each.

rmoses.jpgAs a fan of absurdly overconceived projects, I’m glad to see Brooklyn-based Stevens providing a soundtrack to one of his borough’s least-loved eyesores. The traffic-clogged BQE is a soul-numbing, neighborhood-dividing monument to master planner Robert Moses’ unchecked ego. But since it exposes the tension that comes with having a sense of place, it seems like an ideal subject for Stevens. Maybe his take on Moses will even surpass Alex Timbers’ surreal play “Boozy,” which portrayed Moses’ arch-nemesis—urban gadfly and community activist Jane Jacobs, a hero of mine—as a femme fatale time traveler who stalks Moses with an angry gang of rolling pin-wielding housewives.

Sufjan Stevens’ mannered chamber-folk divides the indie world into Sufists who hail his genius, and anti-Sufists who want to slap him silly. He’s too clever by half and could use an editor, as on The Avalanche. But I’d challenge the haters to write a song as moving as “Casimir Pulaski Day” or a rocker as fierce as “In the Words of the Governor,” Stevens’ Polvo-meets-White Stripes barnburner featured in The Believer’s summer 2007 CD compilation. The preview snippet of “BQE” below doesn’t suggest Stevens is the new Steve Reich, but I’ll give the piece a chance. Did I mention that “BQE” has hula-hoopers?

After the click-through, I’ll provide music for some equally soul-numbing missteps in urban planning. If you have your own stretch of paradise that’s been paved for a parking lot, tell us about it, and give us some music to get through the madness.

Sufjan Stevens, “In the Words of the Governor”:

[audio:http://stuckbetweenstations.org/wp-content/uploads/2007/11/04-in-the-words-of-the-governor-1.mp3]

Sufjan Stevens, “BQE, Part 6”:

Here’s my list:

• Cabrini-Green, Chicago

Swiss architect Le Corbusier got nowhere with his 1925 Plan Voisin for Paris, which would have replaced the Marais district with the sorts of anonymous towers Jacques Tati later spoofed his absurdist masterpiece, Playtime. But stateside, his disciples tried an approach just as depersonalized in the name of slum clearance and “urban renewal.” The prison-like towers and frightening “open spaces” in Chicago’s Cabrini-Green came to symbolize all that was wrong with a generation of ill-conceived public housing. Most of the towers have since been demolished and replaced.

Theme Song: Kanye West, “Jesus Walks”: “I walk through the valley of the Chi where death is/ Top floor the view alone will leave you breathless.”

• The Streetcar Suicides, Nationwide

At a time when few Americans drove, GM President Alfred Sloan remarked that “if we can eliminate the rail alternatives, we will create a new market for our cars.” By 1946, a mysterious holding company, National City Lines–run by GM with a little help from its friends at Standard Oil, Phillips Petroleum, Firestone, and Mack Truck–controlled streetcar operations in dozens of American cities from New York to Los Angeles. They had an interesting business model for the streetcar operations: dismantle them. If that sounds like a cartoon, it’s because it later became one; the plot of Who Framed Roger Rabbit? is loosely modeled on this national disgrace.

Theme Song: Pretenders, “My City Was Gone”: “There were no train stations/ There was no downtown.” Yes, this is the song that unintentionally made Rush Limbaugh an animal rights activist. You’ll have to excuse the Norwegian video.

• Embarcadero Freeway, San Francisco

It shouldn’t take a natural disaster to achieve good urban planning, but that’s what happened with San Francisco’s Embarcadero Freeway. In the car-obsessed 1950s, plans were laid to build a drab double-decker freeway darkening the views of one of the world’s most stunning urban skylines. After years of discussion about whether, and how, to remove the hated freeway, the 1989 Loma Prieta Earthquake did the job in about 15 seconds. Traffic congestion decreased, and an attractive promenade now graces the waterfront.

Theme Song: Jesse Fuller, “San Francisco Bay Blues”: Don’t miss the kazoo solo.

• The Big Dig, Boston

The Red Sox have avenged the Bambino twice, the Patriots seem unstoppable, New England is beautiful in the fall, and Mission of Burma is back and better than ever. What could Boston possibly have to complain about? Maybe one thing: the Big Dig. Conceived as an earnest attempt to replace the antiquated Central Artery and provide airport access, the tunneling project took years longer and billions of dollars more than anticipated. More recently, the project has faced chronic leaks and collapsing roof sections caused, in part, by a contractor’s concealed use of defective concrete.

Theme Song: Talking Heads, “Don’t Worry About the Government”: “Some civil servants are just like my loved ones.”

• Diablo Canyon, San Luis Obispo County, California

The sleepy Central Coast of California is home to the charming medium-sized college town of San Luis Obispo, and nearby, scenic beaches that support a thriving surf culture and vendors of kites, taffy and driftwood sculptures. The area also sits on several earthquake fault lines, including the San Andreas fault. I know what you are thinking: what a wonderful location for a nuclear power plant!

Theme Song: Postal Service, “We Will Become Silhouettes”: “The news reports recommend that we stay indoors.”

• Long Beach Freeway, Southern California

What will $1.5 billion buy in Southern California these days? In the case of the proposed Long Beach freeway extension, it would almost buy a road that would destroy hundreds of homes and businesses, displace thousands of people, cut through six historic districts, and probably worsen air quality. And you’d still sit in traffic during rush hour.

Theme Song: Guy Clark, “LA Freeway”: “If I can just get off of this LA Freeway/ Without getting killed or caught.”

• Newhall Ranch, Northern Los Angeles County

With its chronic fires, mudslides, and scarce and risky water sources accompanying its parade of malls and subdivisions, it’s obvious what Southern California needs the least: another Orange County north of Los Angeles. Yet Newhall Ranch would place a master-planned mega-community on the banks of the environmentally challenged Santa Clara River, with more sprawl to follow. Urban critic Mike Davis has noted that the project’s advertising evokes nostalgia of Southern California’s pre-World War II communities, even though Newhall would remove the “last authentic landscape” in that tradition “in order to build its suburban simulation.”

Theme Song: Kinks, “Shangri-La”: “You need not worry, you need not care/ You can’t go anywhere.”

Alternate theme song: Modest Mouse, “Novocaine Stain: “More housing developments go up/ Named after the things they replace/ So welcome to Minnow Brook/ And welcome to Shady Space.”

About Roger Moore

rocklobster3.JPGRoger Moore is a writer and musical obsessive who plays percussion instruments from around the world with an equal lack of dexterity. An environmental lawyer in his unplugged moments, he has written on subjects ranging from sustainable development practices to human rights and voting rights, as well as many music reviews. A native Chicagoan, Roger lives in Oakland, California with his wife Paula, who shares his Paul Weller fixation, and two young children, Amelia and Matthew, who enjoy dancing in circles to his Serge Gainsbourg records and falling asleep to his John Coltrane records.

Roger Moore’s Musical Timeline

1966. Dropped upside down on patio after oldest sister listened to “She Loves You” on the Beatles’ Saturday cartoon show. Ears have rung with the words “yeah, yeah, yeah” ever since.

1973. Memorized all 932 verses to Don McLean’s “American Pie.”

1975. Unsuccessfully lobbied to have “Louie Louie” named the official song of his grade school class. The teacher altered the lyrics of the winner, the Carpenters’ “I Won’t Last a Day Without You,” so that they referred to Jesus.

1977. After a trip to New Orleans, frequently broke drumheads attempting to mimic the style of the Meters’ Zigaboo Modeliste.

1979. In order to see Muddy Waters perform in Chicago, borrowed the birth certificate of a 27 year-old truck driver named Rocco.

1982. Published first music review, a glowing account of the Jam’s three-encore performance for the Chicago Reader. Reading the original, unedited piece would have taken longer than the concert itself.

1982. Spat on just before seeing the Who on the first of their 23 farewell tours, after giving applause to the previous band, the Clash.

1984. Mom: “This sounds perky. What’s it called?” Roger: “ It’s ‘That’s When I Reach for My Revolver’ by Mission of Burma.”

1985. Wrote first review of an African recording, King Sunny Ade’s Synchro System. A reader induced to buy the album by this review wrote a letter to the editor, noting that “anyone wishing a copy of this record, played only once” should contact him.

1985. At a Replacements show in Boston, helped redirect a bewildered Bob Stinson to the stage, which Bob had temporarily confused with the ladies’ bathroom.

1986. Walked forty blocks through a near-hurricane wearing a garbage bag because the Feelies were playing a show at Washington, D.C.’s 9:30 Club.

1987. Foolishly asked Alex Chilton why he had just performed “Volare.” Answer: “Because I can.”

1988. Moved to Northern California and, at a large outdoor reggae festival, discovered what Bob Marley songs sound like when sung by naked hippies.

1991. Attempted to explain to Flavor-Flav of Public Enemy that the clock hanging from his neck was at least two hours fast.

1992. Under the pseudonym Dr. Smudge, produced and performed for the Underwear of the Gods anthology, recorded live at the North Oakland Rest Home for the Bewildered. Local earplug sales skyrocketed.

1993. Attended first-ever fashion show in Chicago because Liz Phair was the opening act. Declined the complimentary bottles of cologne and moisturizer.

1997. Almost missed appointment with eventual wedding band because Sleater-Kinney performed earlier at Berkeley’s 924 Gilman Street. Recovered hearing days later.

1997. After sharing a romantic evening with Paula listening to Caetano Veloso at San Francisco’s Masonic Auditorium, purchased a Portuguese phrasebook that remains unread.

1998. Learned why you do not yell “Free Bird” at Whiskeytown's Ryan Adams in a crowded theater.

1999. During an intense bout of flu, made guttural noises bearing an uncanny resemblance to the Throat Singers of Tuva.

2000. Compiled a retrospective of music in the nineties as a fellow at the Coolwater Center for Strategic Studies and Barbecue Hut.

2001. Listened as Kahil El’Zabar, in the middle of a harrowing and funny duet show with Billy Bang, lowered his voice and spoke of the need to think of the children, whom he was concerned might grow up “unhip.”

2002. During a performance of Wilco’s “Ashes of American Flags,” barely dodged ashes of Jeff Tweedy’s cigarette.

2002. Arrived at the Alta Bates maternity ward in Berkeley with a world trance anthology specially designed to soothe Paula during Amelia’s birth, filled with Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Ali Akbar Khan, and assorted other Khans. The project proved to be irrelevant to the actual process of labor.

2003. Emceed a memorable memorial concert for our friend Matthew Sperry at San Francisco’s Victoria Theater featuring a lineup of his former collaborators, including improvised music all-stars Orchesperry, Pauline Oliveros, Red Hot Tchotchkes, the cast of Hedwig and the Angry Inch, and Tom Waits.

2003. Failed to persuade Ted Leo to seek the Democratic nomination for President.

2005. Prevented two-year old daughter Amelia from diving off the balcony during a performance of Pierre Dorge’s New Jungle Orchestra at the Copenhagen Jazz Festival.

2006. On a family camping trip in the Sierra Nevadas, experienced the advanced stage of psychosis that comes from listening to the thirtieth rendition of Raffi’s “Bananaphone” on the same road trip.

3 thoughts on “Road to Ruin: A Sufjan Stevens-Inspired Soundtrack to Bad Urban Planning

Comments are closed.