Glee has become quite a phenomenon, entirely without my help. Despite hearing rave reviews from my (mostly female) friends and family, I completely ignored the first season, as well as the beginning of the second. This changed, however, when I heard Glee was doing a Rocky Horror episode. While it would be an overstatement to say that I’m a huge fan of Rocky Horror, one could say that I appreciate (most of) its eccentric charm.
My change of heart regarding Glee was heartily encouraged by my girlfriend, who had watched and enjoyed the first season. What the hell, right? She made an effort to watch last year’s hockey playoffs and ended up really enjoying herself, so I figured this episode would give me the best chance to partake of something that she enjoyed with minimal psychological harm. Thus, much to Kristina’s delight, I parked my ass on the couch on the Tuesday before Halloween to check the episode out.
Full disclosure before I tell you what I thought: I’m a fairly progressive guy, so I’ve got no problem with homosexuality, and believe that the majority of gender stereotypes are a load of tripe. I’m also a depressive, so you could say that I’m in touch with my feelings; I may not enjoy crying, but I’m not going to feel ashamed for doing it, and I get teary-eyed on a fairly regular basis when something heart-wrenching happens in a film or TV show. But I don’t sob. Sobbing is for pussies.
I feel that we as a nation, as well as humanity in general, have become increasingly cynical and jaded, and, unfortunately, our entertainment reflects that. It’s gotten to the point where displays of “feminine” emotions (love, heartache, etc.) are immediately dismissed by most people as saccharine schmaltz. Personally, I feel our world would be a better place if people stopped regarding sentimentality as an entertainment evil. It has its place.
That said, I’m not a big fan of musicals. Never seen The Sound of Music. Never seen Mary Poppins. Even Tim Burton and Johnny Depp couldn’t stop Sweeney Todd from making me wish I was in one of those pies, rather than alive and well and bored off my ass. There are exceptions, of course. As I stated before, I enjoy The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and I absolutely love Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory (except for “Cheer Up Charlie.” *snoooooore*). But, in general, it just feels weird to have people spontaneously breaking into song at random moments. Almost as weird as an entire crowd of people doing so, knowing all the words to the song and steps to the accompanying dance number, then immediately stopping and pretending that nothing odd had just happened. It’s unnatural, and it annoys me. But hey, I’m open-minded, so I’ll give pretty much anything an honest chance to entertain me. And that was exactly my attitude on that Tuesday night.
And you know what? I liked it. Not all of it, but most of it. I’ve watched every episode since, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself. It came as no surprise to me that I don’t like every musical number. Some are simply songs that I don’t like (generally the stuff that Rachel sings); others aren’t as good as the originals; others feel too much like those unnatural moments from musicals. But I enjoy music in general, and I’m not averse to excellent harmonization. In fact, as someone who loves doo-wop, I feel that harmonization is, largely, a lost art (or a marginalized art, anyway). So I’m cool with that aspect of the show.
But I have to be honest; I think the strength of the show lies not in its music, but in the characters. You could argue that the show is basically a cliché (misfits struggle to come to terms with their outcast status by finding joy in blah blah blah), and I wouldn’t disagree, but after millennia of myths, legends, and literature, almost every story is a cliché, ultimately. It’s how you treat the cliché that sets you apart (or doesn’t).
From what I’ve seen, each character is treated as a person, rather than a caricature. Yes, the hilariously named Coach Beiste is a manly woman, and they use that to comedic advantage, but they also show the underside of the issue when she finds out some of the students are using mental images of her in lingerie to “cool off” during make out sessions in order to escape the dreaded blue balls. The knowledge wounds her deeply, and this thread of the story acknowledges that, yes, there may be comedy to be mined from this character, but also reminds us that underneath that manly façade is a woman not unlike any other.
By the same token, Kurt is far from your stereotypical gay character. Yes, he often conforms to many of the stereotypes that often come to mind (his fashion sense, his effeminate voice and mannerisms), but the show delves deeper than that. It goes out of its way to suggest that yes, being gay is perfectly ok, but that doesn’t mean everyone is going to accept you. His ongoing problems with resident Neanderthal and in-denial-homosexual Karofsky is a disturbing view into the kind of harassment an “out” teenage homosexual is likely to experience. Nevertheless, Kurt is likely a welcome and potentially life-changing role model for young gays everywhere who are struggling with their situation. For that reason alone, this show gets serious respect from me.
In the end, I’ve come to enjoy the show for one reason: it’s funny. Sue’s manipulative attempts to screw with the heads of everyone within a thousand-meter radius, Brittany’s child-like naïveté, Puckerman’s delinquent tendencies…they all come together for at least one hearty belly-laugh per episode. One of my personal favorites: Brittany agreeing that she committed adultery because she thought that “adultery” meant being a dolt (a-dolt-ery—get it?). It still makes me giggle every time I think about it.
Yeah, I’m not always a fan of the drama, and yeah, some of the musical numbers turn me off, but the rest of the show is good enough to make me forgive it its faults. And while the show can be sentimental at times, it comes attached to a sincerity that I find refreshing. I’ve only seen five episodes (I don’t even know all the character’s names yet), but I’m liking what I’m seeing, and hope that, as long as it operates on the level that I’ve witnessed thus far, it has a long and prosperous run.
And now, a few of lists, because people dig lists (at least, I do).
Favorite Characters
1. Sue Sylvester: I’ve loved Jane Lynch since I first saw Best In Show, and her portrayal of Sue is comedic gold. And while she may seem like evil incarnate at first glance, she always seems to do the right thing in the end.
2. Brittany: What is there to say? She’s freakin’ adorable. She’s the Idiot With a Heart of Gold. Can’t get enough of her.
3. Coach Beiste: Maybe it’s because she was a focus of one of the first episodes I saw, but I really enjoy her. She’s masculinity and femininity rolled up into one package, and they do this fact justice without being trite.
4. Artie: I don’t know why. Just like the guy. Speaking as an overprotective brother-type, he seems like the kind of guy you wouldn’t mind dating your sister or daughter.
5. Puckerman: He hasn’t been featured much in the episodes I’ve seen, but I’ve seen enough to be intrigued.
Hottest Characters
1. Santana: Oh my stars and garters, I think I grow slightly retarded every time I see her. If I were a girl and she were a guy, I’d giggle and play with my hair every time she walked in the room. She’d be perfect if she gained about 10 or 20 pounds. P.S. This has nothing to do with how much I love my girlfriend. Which is a lot. Seriously.
2. Santana: See #1.
3. Santana: See #2.
4. Santana: See #3.
5. Quinn: You thought I was gonna say Santana, didn’t you? I’m not blind; Quinn’s delicious, too.
Characters I’d Most Like To See Get Kicked In the Neck
1-5. Rachel: Great googly moogly, she’s obnoxious! I’m assuming she has some redeeming qualities, but I have yet to witness them.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Saturday, September 4, 2010
I'm Tired of Hipsters! Can I Get An Amen?!
They’re everywhere you go these days, especially if you live in a metropolitan area. You can see them on street corners dressed in skinny jeans and clunky glasses, or in a bar sucking down PBR. Odds are good that they have more than a few tatts and an asymmetrical haircut. Ask what they’re listening to on their iPod, and they’ll undoubtedly spout off a string of band names that you’ve never heard of.
In general, I’ve got nothing against individual hipsters. While many of them are pretentious douchebags, I’m confident that most of them are fine human beings. But goddammit, I fucking hate almost everything they’re about. If you’ve got 20 minutes, read this definition of what a hipster is, and perhaps you’ll see why.
Now ain’t that a bunch of pretentious bullshit? If there is a hierarchy of douches, then this definition was clearly written by the Ultimate Supreme Douche. The fact that the guy needs over 800 words to define “hipster” pretty much says it all.
Look, my hipster friends, I get it. Mainstream culture is, in general, meant for mindless, conformist sheeple. But guess what? By being a hipster you’re still conforming; you’re just conforming to a more obscure aesthetic. But when you get down to brass tacks, conformity is conformity.
I’ve got a couple of tatts and would probably have a sleeve if I could afford it, but I’m not about to go broke covering myself in ink. I’m well educated and proud of it, but I make an earnest effort not to act superior. My taste in music is diverse, and I have to admit to deriving pleasure from knowing a band before others catch on, but I’m not going to mock you if you’ve never heard of Dr. Dog, MF DOOM, or Aṣa.
But here’s the thing. I also affect a ridiculously high voice when I talk to animals. My sense of fashion is practically non-existent; I wear baggy, comfortable jeans (that don’t sag so that my ass hangs out) and the same five shirts every week. My relatively vast music collection, while containing the aforementioned Dr. Dog and MF DOOM, also contains artists like Aqua and Justin Timberlake. And as you can see by my handle [I go by the name of Gryffindork on the website this was originally published on], I’m a huge Harry Potter geek. In other words, I’m a huge fucking dork.
But you know what? I own that shit. I don’t care about my wardrobe because I’m poor and spending money on clothes is not a priority. I may sound like an idiot around animals, but they love me, and that’s all that matters to me. Just like every meal can’t be a nutritious gourmet meal, I don’t require that everything I listen to have deep artistic merit; sometimes I just want something with no nutritional value (like a song about a Dick In a Box). And if you’re a Harry Potter hater, I’ve got three words for you: eat a dick. If you weren’t too cool to read the books, you might actually enjoy them.
Which is my main point, really. If you do or don’t do something simply because it’ll affect your social stock, then I’m sorry, you’re a poser. You’re allowing the attitudes and beliefs of others to control your actions, which is the very definition of conformity.
If you’ve seen me then you know I’m just a touch darker than an albino. Convention suggests I should listen to stuff like rock (and I do), but despite the fact that my favorite group is The Beatles, I fucking love hip-hop. DOOM is my favorite MC. I think Lil Wayne is the best rapper alive. I think it’s a shame that more people don’t know who Z-Ro is. And I love discovering shit like “Shake This” by Royce Da 5’9” or “The Truth” by Jake One, Freeway, and Brother Ali (or maybe they're not obscure; I wouldn’t know, since I don’t listen to the radio or watch MTV). The point is, if I bowed to convention I’d never listen to this stuff. But I like it. So I do.
Maybe I’m coming off as preachy. Maybe you think I sound like one of the douches I’m professing to hate. The great thing is, I don’t care. I couldn’t care less what you think of me. Hip-hop has a motto that we should all be trying to live by: keep it real. Don’t pretend to like something just because other people do. If you like something geeky, enjoy it to the fullest extent. If you dig disco, then do the Shuffle, dammit. And if the hipster aesthetic is truly your thing, then ignore me and do your thing. Just remember that knowing obscure bands doesn’t make you a better person or mean that you have better taste than others; it just means you stumbled upon something most people haven’t. Above all, do whatever is right for you, and fuck the haters when they make themselves known.
And that’s real, bitches.
In general, I’ve got nothing against individual hipsters. While many of them are pretentious douchebags, I’m confident that most of them are fine human beings. But goddammit, I fucking hate almost everything they’re about. If you’ve got 20 minutes, read this definition of what a hipster is, and perhaps you’ll see why.
Now ain’t that a bunch of pretentious bullshit? If there is a hierarchy of douches, then this definition was clearly written by the Ultimate Supreme Douche. The fact that the guy needs over 800 words to define “hipster” pretty much says it all.
Look, my hipster friends, I get it. Mainstream culture is, in general, meant for mindless, conformist sheeple. But guess what? By being a hipster you’re still conforming; you’re just conforming to a more obscure aesthetic. But when you get down to brass tacks, conformity is conformity.
I’ve got a couple of tatts and would probably have a sleeve if I could afford it, but I’m not about to go broke covering myself in ink. I’m well educated and proud of it, but I make an earnest effort not to act superior. My taste in music is diverse, and I have to admit to deriving pleasure from knowing a band before others catch on, but I’m not going to mock you if you’ve never heard of Dr. Dog, MF DOOM, or Aṣa.
But here’s the thing. I also affect a ridiculously high voice when I talk to animals. My sense of fashion is practically non-existent; I wear baggy, comfortable jeans (that don’t sag so that my ass hangs out) and the same five shirts every week. My relatively vast music collection, while containing the aforementioned Dr. Dog and MF DOOM, also contains artists like Aqua and Justin Timberlake. And as you can see by my handle [I go by the name of Gryffindork on the website this was originally published on], I’m a huge Harry Potter geek. In other words, I’m a huge fucking dork.
But you know what? I own that shit. I don’t care about my wardrobe because I’m poor and spending money on clothes is not a priority. I may sound like an idiot around animals, but they love me, and that’s all that matters to me. Just like every meal can’t be a nutritious gourmet meal, I don’t require that everything I listen to have deep artistic merit; sometimes I just want something with no nutritional value (like a song about a Dick In a Box). And if you’re a Harry Potter hater, I’ve got three words for you: eat a dick. If you weren’t too cool to read the books, you might actually enjoy them.
Which is my main point, really. If you do or don’t do something simply because it’ll affect your social stock, then I’m sorry, you’re a poser. You’re allowing the attitudes and beliefs of others to control your actions, which is the very definition of conformity.
If you’ve seen me then you know I’m just a touch darker than an albino. Convention suggests I should listen to stuff like rock (and I do), but despite the fact that my favorite group is The Beatles, I fucking love hip-hop. DOOM is my favorite MC. I think Lil Wayne is the best rapper alive. I think it’s a shame that more people don’t know who Z-Ro is. And I love discovering shit like “Shake This” by Royce Da 5’9” or “The Truth” by Jake One, Freeway, and Brother Ali (or maybe they're not obscure; I wouldn’t know, since I don’t listen to the radio or watch MTV). The point is, if I bowed to convention I’d never listen to this stuff. But I like it. So I do.
Maybe I’m coming off as preachy. Maybe you think I sound like one of the douches I’m professing to hate. The great thing is, I don’t care. I couldn’t care less what you think of me. Hip-hop has a motto that we should all be trying to live by: keep it real. Don’t pretend to like something just because other people do. If you like something geeky, enjoy it to the fullest extent. If you dig disco, then do the Shuffle, dammit. And if the hipster aesthetic is truly your thing, then ignore me and do your thing. Just remember that knowing obscure bands doesn’t make you a better person or mean that you have better taste than others; it just means you stumbled upon something most people haven’t. Above all, do whatever is right for you, and fuck the haters when they make themselves known.
And that’s real, bitches.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Pub Quiz Fun
I haven't posted anything here in quite some time. Why's that? Because I've been working, and part of work includes blogging. I'm now a quizmaster for Geeks Who Drink, a company with pub quizzes (aka trivia) in Colorado, New Mexico, Texas, Utah, and Washington. I thought I'd post my latest blog here on the Garden, on the off chance that some of you may be interested, or live near a Geeks pub quiz. It's a lot of fun (expect some blue language), they're free to play, and you get chances to win gift cards and free pints, so don't pass up the chance to check it out if you've got one in your area. Interested in reading some of my other Geeks blogs? Check out my entries under The Clock Tower Grill (my home blog), or my guest entries at The British Bulldog, The Doghouse, The Irish Hound, Moe's BBQ, and Milo's Sports Tavern (coming tomorrow), all located in Denver. I go by the name Gryffindork.
This place might be small, but they know how to make some grub!
There are three ways to a man’s heart. The first is by stimulating his mind. Provide good conversation, watch an occasional hockey or football game with him, read the same books or watch the same movies as him, and you may just win him for the long haul.
The second route is through his penis. This route can rarely be taken concurrently with the first, since men have two heads and only enough blood to operate one at a time. Wow him with your bojingo, do things that his mom told him “good” girls don’t do, and he’ll beat a bag full of puppies with a hammer for more, although he will be racked with remorse once he regains control of his faculties. And why not? Who in their right mind brutalizes puppies?! That’s fucked up!
The last way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Cook something a man craves, and he’ll be thinking about you every time he gets hungry, which is approximately 10 times a day. Ok, so he’ll more likely be thinking about your food, but that, ultimately, is an extension of you, right?
The Doghouse took the last route to this quizmaster’s heart. I’ve eaten at my fair share of pubs since I started this job, and The Doghouse Tavern beats ‘em all! The menu is relatively small, and that might be a good thing. When it comes to cuisine, doing a few things extremely well is better than doing a bunch of things in a mediocre manner. I had the burger smothered in chile verde, but the real story was the chile verde-covered pulled pork sandwich that my girlfriend ordered. Great smokey taste with a little kick, and nice and big to boot. If you are in the area and pass it up, then you will earn yourself a place in a special hell made for unbaptized retarded kids, and fans of Twilight and Justin Bieber over the age of 10.
As for the quiz itself, well, Lisa led me to believe that you guys would heckle me a bit, and generally give me shit. I’m always down for a crowd with some attitude, but I found the ‘tude largely lacking last night. Perhaps you have to know someone better before you’re comfortable heckling them. It’s cool, though. You guys were a lot of fun, and I think we all enjoyed ourselves, despite the non-quizlings who wouldn’t shut the hell up.
This is half of the Twenty O’Clock Shadows and Patrice. She’s in charge around these parts, and she calls you things like “honey” and “babe.” So if you’re starved and/or starved for attention, then the Doghouse is the place for you!
It’s Unofficial Awards Time!
Team Name of the Week goes to Two “Gents” & a Jew (I literally just got the “Gents” joke as I was writing this). I smell a sitcom! Surely the Jew can write, right?
The Public Enemy #1 Award goes to the Twenty O’Clock Shadows, the only team to correctly identify Public Enemy’s “911 Is a Joke” in our first audio round.
The Dumbass Award goes to me for forgetting to tell you the theme to that first audio round. I’m a wee bit surprised that no one called me on it, to be honest. I offered to roll through the round again, but apparently you were confident that you either knew it or you didn’t.
The Surprise of the Week was seeing three teams joker the T’d Off round. This kind of mind-bending round usually gets a groan of disdain, but you all did quite well on it (and Two “Gents” & a Jew even pulled off the only perfect round of the night). Well done, everyone.
The Who Remembers That Shit?! Award goes to The Furr-Burgers, who gave me the names of not one, but both of Marty McFly’s siblings (Linda & Dave). Who remembers that shit?!
The Huey Lewis & The News Fan Club Award is shared by Poo Drizzle and The Furr-Burgers, who gave me the names of both Huey Lewis songs featured in Back To the Future. You guys are so square, you’re hip!
The Answer of the Week goes to Peeing In Public, who decided Rich “Goose” Gossage’s nickname was “The Ejaculator.” I’d hate to be catching what he was pitching.
This week’s E-mail Bonus Question winner was Troy, the proud new owner of onion ring-flavored breath mints. Helps you bang a carnie every time, or your money back!
6th Place: The Wackness
Contrary to their name, they were not, in fact, wack.
5th Place: Peeing In Public
At least, I hope they’re peeing.
4th Place: Poo Drizzle
They took 4th despite missing the first three rounds! Impressive.
3rd Place: Two “Gents” & a Jew
There may be only one Jew on the team, but I bet they’re all circumcised. God Bless America!
2nd Place: Twenty O’Clock Shadows
They led most of the way, but couldn’t quite hold off the night’s winners. But they like Bad Religion, so really, they’re winners anyway.
1st Place: The Furr-Burgers
They lulled everyone into a false sense of security before slipping into 1st in the final round, ninja style.
Final Scores:
There are three ways to a man’s heart. The first is by stimulating his mind. Provide good conversation, watch an occasional hockey or football game with him, read the same books or watch the same movies as him, and you may just win him for the long haul.
The second route is through his penis. This route can rarely be taken concurrently with the first, since men have two heads and only enough blood to operate one at a time. Wow him with your bojingo, do things that his mom told him “good” girls don’t do, and he’ll beat a bag full of puppies with a hammer for more, although he will be racked with remorse once he regains control of his faculties. And why not? Who in their right mind brutalizes puppies?! That’s fucked up!
The last way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Cook something a man craves, and he’ll be thinking about you every time he gets hungry, which is approximately 10 times a day. Ok, so he’ll more likely be thinking about your food, but that, ultimately, is an extension of you, right?
The Doghouse took the last route to this quizmaster’s heart. I’ve eaten at my fair share of pubs since I started this job, and The Doghouse Tavern beats ‘em all! The menu is relatively small, and that might be a good thing. When it comes to cuisine, doing a few things extremely well is better than doing a bunch of things in a mediocre manner. I had the burger smothered in chile verde, but the real story was the chile verde-covered pulled pork sandwich that my girlfriend ordered. Great smokey taste with a little kick, and nice and big to boot. If you are in the area and pass it up, then you will earn yourself a place in a special hell made for unbaptized retarded kids, and fans of Twilight and Justin Bieber over the age of 10.
As for the quiz itself, well, Lisa led me to believe that you guys would heckle me a bit, and generally give me shit. I’m always down for a crowd with some attitude, but I found the ‘tude largely lacking last night. Perhaps you have to know someone better before you’re comfortable heckling them. It’s cool, though. You guys were a lot of fun, and I think we all enjoyed ourselves, despite the non-quizlings who wouldn’t shut the hell up.
It’s Unofficial Awards Time!
Team Name of the Week goes to Two “Gents” & a Jew (I literally just got the “Gents” joke as I was writing this). I smell a sitcom! Surely the Jew can write, right?
The Public Enemy #1 Award goes to the Twenty O’Clock Shadows, the only team to correctly identify Public Enemy’s “911 Is a Joke” in our first audio round.
The Dumbass Award goes to me for forgetting to tell you the theme to that first audio round. I’m a wee bit surprised that no one called me on it, to be honest. I offered to roll through the round again, but apparently you were confident that you either knew it or you didn’t.
The Surprise of the Week was seeing three teams joker the T’d Off round. This kind of mind-bending round usually gets a groan of disdain, but you all did quite well on it (and Two “Gents” & a Jew even pulled off the only perfect round of the night). Well done, everyone.
The Who Remembers That Shit?! Award goes to The Furr-Burgers, who gave me the names of not one, but both of Marty McFly’s siblings (Linda & Dave). Who remembers that shit?!
The Huey Lewis & The News Fan Club Award is shared by Poo Drizzle and The Furr-Burgers, who gave me the names of both Huey Lewis songs featured in Back To the Future. You guys are so square, you’re hip!
The Answer of the Week goes to Peeing In Public, who decided Rich “Goose” Gossage’s nickname was “The Ejaculator.” I’d hate to be catching what he was pitching.
Contrary to their name, they were not, in fact, wack.
At least, I hope they’re peeing.
They took 4th despite missing the first three rounds! Impressive.
There may be only one Jew on the team, but I bet they’re all circumcised. God Bless America!
They led most of the way, but couldn’t quite hold off the night’s winners. But they like Bad Religion, so really, they’re winners anyway.
They lulled everyone into a false sense of security before slipping into 1st in the final round, ninja style.
Final Scores:
The Furr-Burgers 66
Twenty O’Clock Shadows 60
Two “Gents” & a Jew 57
Poo Drizzle 42
Peeing In Public 41
The Wackness 35
Friday, June 25, 2010
Thank You, Bob Bradley!
I've been watching the US throughout this year's World Cup, as well as a smattering of other games, and I've been meaning to talk about the issue of flopping. Now seems like a good time to address this, after hearing Bob Bradley's comments on the subject.
Soccer isn't nearly as popular in the US as it is elsewhere. Like most Americans, I don't pay much attention to it, although I've watched all of the US's games thus far, because, well, it's the freakin' World Cup. But as I've watched I couldn't help but get irked by the way these well-conditioned athletes writhe around on the ground like 5-year old girls every time someone breathes on them too hard. In fact, "irked" is too tame a word; it simply pisses me off.
I understand that this is kind of a soccer "tradition." I understand that it's done in order to gain an advantage for one's team, and all's fair in love and war, right? Pardon my French, but fuck that. There's a word for going down that fast and hard: it's called being a whore. It's dishonest and utterly disgraceful, and acting of this sort has no place in any sport.
Sports are, in essence, a form of warfare and displaced aggression. I suppose this ideal is waning in today's modern world, but warriors were once expected to be not only the baddest guys on the block, but honorable as well. America being the bellicose nation that it is, we take our sports (and war) seriously. We expect our athletes to uphold the warrior ideal of toughness in the face of great pain. Basketball players play with tweaked knees and elbows. Football players play with concussions. Hockey players get 7 teeth knocked out, go get some quick dental work, then return to play in the same game. It's almost certainly asking too much of them, but it's what's expected of them. To act otherwise is to be branded a pussy.
And I think that this is one of the main reasons Americans have a hard time with soccer. I don't think it's the "slow pace" of the game, or the low scoring that turns off Americans, because baseball is much slower paced, and hockey is comparable in the amount of goals scored. No, I think the issue is the antics of the players. How can you possibly respect a guy who squirms on the ground in mock pain when just last week you watched Rich Franklin knock out Chuck Liddell after Liddell broke Franklin's arm earlier in the round?
Yes, there is flopping in other sports, most notably basketball and hockey. But do it too much, and you're labelled as a d-bag. You lose the respect of the fans and your fellow players. That doesn't seem to be the case with soccer. "It's just part of the game." Well, it's a disgusting, disgraceful part of the game, and I whole-heartedly encourage FIFA to take Bradley's advice and start cracking down on it. It does nothing to benefit the game, and plenty to denigrate it. I played soccer for many years as a kid, and it's a tough sport; these fools are making a mockery of it.
And I think this foolishness is keeping a lot of American fans from truly enjoying it. You may say that soccer doesn't need American fans, that the rest of the world is doing just fine without us. You're not wrong. But that's a pretty poor attitude, don't you think?
Soccer isn't nearly as popular in the US as it is elsewhere. Like most Americans, I don't pay much attention to it, although I've watched all of the US's games thus far, because, well, it's the freakin' World Cup. But as I've watched I couldn't help but get irked by the way these well-conditioned athletes writhe around on the ground like 5-year old girls every time someone breathes on them too hard. In fact, "irked" is too tame a word; it simply pisses me off.
I understand that this is kind of a soccer "tradition." I understand that it's done in order to gain an advantage for one's team, and all's fair in love and war, right? Pardon my French, but fuck that. There's a word for going down that fast and hard: it's called being a whore. It's dishonest and utterly disgraceful, and acting of this sort has no place in any sport.
Sports are, in essence, a form of warfare and displaced aggression. I suppose this ideal is waning in today's modern world, but warriors were once expected to be not only the baddest guys on the block, but honorable as well. America being the bellicose nation that it is, we take our sports (and war) seriously. We expect our athletes to uphold the warrior ideal of toughness in the face of great pain. Basketball players play with tweaked knees and elbows. Football players play with concussions. Hockey players get 7 teeth knocked out, go get some quick dental work, then return to play in the same game. It's almost certainly asking too much of them, but it's what's expected of them. To act otherwise is to be branded a pussy.
And I think that this is one of the main reasons Americans have a hard time with soccer. I don't think it's the "slow pace" of the game, or the low scoring that turns off Americans, because baseball is much slower paced, and hockey is comparable in the amount of goals scored. No, I think the issue is the antics of the players. How can you possibly respect a guy who squirms on the ground in mock pain when just last week you watched Rich Franklin knock out Chuck Liddell after Liddell broke Franklin's arm earlier in the round?
Yes, there is flopping in other sports, most notably basketball and hockey. But do it too much, and you're labelled as a d-bag. You lose the respect of the fans and your fellow players. That doesn't seem to be the case with soccer. "It's just part of the game." Well, it's a disgusting, disgraceful part of the game, and I whole-heartedly encourage FIFA to take Bradley's advice and start cracking down on it. It does nothing to benefit the game, and plenty to denigrate it. I played soccer for many years as a kid, and it's a tough sport; these fools are making a mockery of it.
And I think this foolishness is keeping a lot of American fans from truly enjoying it. You may say that soccer doesn't need American fans, that the rest of the world is doing just fine without us. You're not wrong. But that's a pretty poor attitude, don't you think?
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Our Bodies, Ourselves
So I’m reading Joseph Campbell’s The Hero With a Thousand Faces, and I got to thinking about the way the body can be regarded. You can see the body and its urges as natural and correct, go the “my body is a temple” route, and treat it with care and all that jazz. Alternatively, you can look at the body as something base and vile, something that must be fought and mastered.
The former idea makes logical sense. We’re here on Earth; we’ve only got one body so we should cherish it. In this way, we can hopefully live long and fulfilling — or, at the very least, pleasurable — lives. And since this way of thinking leads most to consider the body’s urges as natural, there is no shame attached to such things as sexual desire.
Now take the latter viewpoint, something Christianity has been largely based upon. The thought process here is that we are imperfect creatures who should strive for perfection, a higher order of being that is nonetheless shackled with animalistic desires that must be overcome.
Take the first idea to the extreme, and you get hedonism. You follow your body’s desires, your id. You eat what you want, when you want it. You fulfill your sexual desires with abandon and an utter lack of shame.
Take the second idea to the extreme, and you get asceticism. You deny your body’s urges because they distract you from your spiritual path. You eat little, or you eat bland foods. And you sure as hell don’t go to a rave, take a little ecstasy, and find yourself a one-night stand. That would be wrong.
I certainly understand the purpose of, and the desire for, a spiritual life. We should all strive to be better people, and having a god or spiritual/moral leader to emulate gives us something to shoot for. But human beings are inherently imperfect, so while I firmly believe that we should all try to be better today than we were yesterday, we should never try to be perfect. It’s an impossibility.
Let’s assume for the sake of argument that we are spiritual beings and that the soul exists. If this is so, then why are we here in the physical world? Whether there is a Creator or not, surely our presence in the physical world means that we are meant to experience physical existence. Thus asceticism entirely misses the point. If there is a soul, then it lives on after death. This means we’ve got a bumload of time to experience a spiritual existence. So why not enjoy our body while we have it, rather than treating it like it’s something to be ashamed of, in some misguided attempt to reach a higher spiritual plane?
This does not, however, mean that we should eat, snort, and screw anything that comes within reach. If there is indeed an afterlife, then it is safe to assume that our actions in the physical world count for something. Rather than getting ourselves into eternal doo-doo, it seems smarter to enjoy our lives and our bodies, while at the same time conducting ourselves in a manner that is both responsible and considerate to others. So hedonism probably isn’t our best bet either.
This leads me to believe that, cliché as it sounds, the path of moderation is the wisest path. Sure, you can occasionally get trashed and have crazy monkey sex (preferably without the involvement of an actual monkey), just so long as you balance it with the knowledge that you should not devote your life to said activities. And by all means, go to Mass, Temple, or whatever it is you’re into, but keep in mind that, just like everybody else, you’re imperfect, and that it’s nothing to be ashamed of.
Of course, you could always argue that we are not, in fact, spiritual beings, that we are purely physical and that once we die that’s it. You get nothing. You lose. Good day, sir. Fair enough. If you take this view, then asceticism is the height of idiocy. Not much point in denying yourself pleasure if there’s no eternal pleasure to be rewarded with for doing so.
This might lead many to assume that hedonism is the way to go. I disagree. Atheism and morality are not mutually exclusive. The lack of an afterlife does not mean we should throw our morals to the wind; we should still strive to be good people. Thus, afterlife or not, devoting your life to snorting blow off a midget’s ass while screwing high-priced Dutch-Japanese hookers and eating handfuls of foie gras and powdered tiger wangs still means you’re a douche. You’re better than that, man.
So I guess that what I’m trying to say is this: our bodies and their urges are nothing to be ashamed of, and we do no harm by accommodating them at times. But spending too much time satisfying these urges is as much a folly as denying them.
Besides, you’ll go blind if you do it too much.
The former idea makes logical sense. We’re here on Earth; we’ve only got one body so we should cherish it. In this way, we can hopefully live long and fulfilling — or, at the very least, pleasurable — lives. And since this way of thinking leads most to consider the body’s urges as natural, there is no shame attached to such things as sexual desire.
Now take the latter viewpoint, something Christianity has been largely based upon. The thought process here is that we are imperfect creatures who should strive for perfection, a higher order of being that is nonetheless shackled with animalistic desires that must be overcome.
Take the first idea to the extreme, and you get hedonism. You follow your body’s desires, your id. You eat what you want, when you want it. You fulfill your sexual desires with abandon and an utter lack of shame.
Take the second idea to the extreme, and you get asceticism. You deny your body’s urges because they distract you from your spiritual path. You eat little, or you eat bland foods. And you sure as hell don’t go to a rave, take a little ecstasy, and find yourself a one-night stand. That would be wrong.
I certainly understand the purpose of, and the desire for, a spiritual life. We should all strive to be better people, and having a god or spiritual/moral leader to emulate gives us something to shoot for. But human beings are inherently imperfect, so while I firmly believe that we should all try to be better today than we were yesterday, we should never try to be perfect. It’s an impossibility.
Let’s assume for the sake of argument that we are spiritual beings and that the soul exists. If this is so, then why are we here in the physical world? Whether there is a Creator or not, surely our presence in the physical world means that we are meant to experience physical existence. Thus asceticism entirely misses the point. If there is a soul, then it lives on after death. This means we’ve got a bumload of time to experience a spiritual existence. So why not enjoy our body while we have it, rather than treating it like it’s something to be ashamed of, in some misguided attempt to reach a higher spiritual plane?
This does not, however, mean that we should eat, snort, and screw anything that comes within reach. If there is indeed an afterlife, then it is safe to assume that our actions in the physical world count for something. Rather than getting ourselves into eternal doo-doo, it seems smarter to enjoy our lives and our bodies, while at the same time conducting ourselves in a manner that is both responsible and considerate to others. So hedonism probably isn’t our best bet either.
This leads me to believe that, cliché as it sounds, the path of moderation is the wisest path. Sure, you can occasionally get trashed and have crazy monkey sex (preferably without the involvement of an actual monkey), just so long as you balance it with the knowledge that you should not devote your life to said activities. And by all means, go to Mass, Temple, or whatever it is you’re into, but keep in mind that, just like everybody else, you’re imperfect, and that it’s nothing to be ashamed of.
Of course, you could always argue that we are not, in fact, spiritual beings, that we are purely physical and that once we die that’s it. You get nothing. You lose. Good day, sir. Fair enough. If you take this view, then asceticism is the height of idiocy. Not much point in denying yourself pleasure if there’s no eternal pleasure to be rewarded with for doing so.
This might lead many to assume that hedonism is the way to go. I disagree. Atheism and morality are not mutually exclusive. The lack of an afterlife does not mean we should throw our morals to the wind; we should still strive to be good people. Thus, afterlife or not, devoting your life to snorting blow off a midget’s ass while screwing high-priced Dutch-Japanese hookers and eating handfuls of foie gras and powdered tiger wangs still means you’re a douche. You’re better than that, man.
So I guess that what I’m trying to say is this: our bodies and their urges are nothing to be ashamed of, and we do no harm by accommodating them at times. But spending too much time satisfying these urges is as much a folly as denying them.
Besides, you’ll go blind if you do it too much.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Musicopia: Beatlemania, Part 2
At long last, I have finished Part 2 of Beatlemania. Hope you enjoy it!
1968’s The Beatles (aka The White Album) was the beginning of the end for The Beatles. Whether the appearance of she-devil Yoko Ono was wholly or partly responsible for the discord is open to debate, but my impression is that she was most certainly a monkey wrench in the gears of a previously well-oiled machine. Regardless of the cause of the contentiousness, the studio sessions for The White Album featured a wealth of disagreements, with John and Paul occasionally in different studios recording different songs. Ringo even quit the band for a short period of time before being convinced to come back. The divisiveness of The Beatles at this time is starkly apparent on the double album, which contains a bizarre (yet great) selection of songs.
It’s tough to pare this lot down, but I’ll do my best. I’ll start with George Harrison’s "Piggies", because, as I’ve already mentioned, I love the sound of the harpsichord, I dig the stringed instruments, and get a kick out of the pig sound effects (what can I say? I’m easily amused). "Sexy Sadie" is another great track I just love to sing along to (even those high notes that I can’t hit). Another fun sing-a-long track is "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da"; a great song to wail in the shower, I’d say. And speaking of wailing, the simplistic yet highly amusing "Why Don’t We Do It In the Road?" features some excellent wailing by Paul. Love this song, and not just because it was inspired by two monkeys in India going at it (but it helps). "Happiness Is a Warm Gun" is supposedly Paul’s favorite song on The White Album, and it’s certainly in my top five. It’s structurally complex, lyrically interesting, and, in the end, just plain fun. "I’m So Tired" may just be my favorite song on the album. While the song isn’t about depression, it certainly strikes a chord in me. I can relate very much with the overriding sentiment of the song (“I’d give you everything I’ve got for a little peace of mind”), and I love the emotion John puts into his vocals (especially around :38-:45).
The White Album is truly great, and there is a wealth of excellent songs that I didn’t mention. If you’re not familiar with it, I highly suggest giving it a listen. And even if you do know it, I suggest revisiting it occasionally. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone back to it and thought, “How did I miss this song?!”
Yellow Submarine, released in 1969, is an unusual album. Only half of the twelve songs on the album are performed by the Beatles, and of those six, two were previously released on other albums (“Yellow Submarine” on Revolver and “All You Need Is Love” on Magical Mystery Tour). The other six tracks are symphonic tracks from the film Yellow Submarine. I enjoy a good orchestral piece, but I’m not overly impressed by the offerings on this album, and of the four new tracks only "All Together Now" and "Hey Bulldog" (the best new song on the album, in my opinion) regularly make it onto my playlists. If the Beatles made a forgettable album, this one is it.
1969’s second release, Abbey Road, on the other hand, is chock full of goodness. Actually recorded after the majority of Let It Be (the last studio album released by the band), this album represents their final attempt to put their differences aside and “go out on a high note.” I don’t think it’s a coincidence that many of the songs on the album have a wistful feeling to them.
Nevertheless, the album starts off with a bang. The first song, "Come Together" is not only a classic, but also seems to act as encouragement for the band, as if they’re telling each other, “This is the last time, so let’s do this right.” The second track, "Something", is, in my humble opinion, one of the greatest love songs ever written. Too bad Yoko’s in the video. But on a happier note, "Octopus’s Garden", where my blog gets its name, is on the album. It’s a fun bit of nonsense, and probably my favorite Ringo track (not that there are a lot to choose from). And speaking of fun bits of nonsense, you can’t go wrong with the short tale of "Mean Mr. Mustard". An interesting bit of trivia regarding the song "Because": it features the chords of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” played backwards. While it’s hard to pick a favorite off the album, "Oh! Darling" may just be it. I recall listening to it repeatedly when I first discovered it, and it doesn’t hurt that it has one of my favorite things in it: Paul screaming his head off. Just a great track.
The final studio album released by the Beatles was 1970’s Let It Be. A documentary of the same name was filmed during the album’s recording sessions. The film ends with the infamous impromptu rooftop concert held on top of Apple’s building (the record company, not the makers of iPods), which was eventually broken up by the police. Apparently London’s business district found the Beatle’s last live performance distracting.
In honor of their last live performance, I thought I’d share the songs they played on that rooftop in London (although the links I provide will be to the album versions). They started off with a couple goes at what was, at the time, meant to be the title track of the album, "Get Back", which was also the last song they played that day. In fact, John’s comment at the end of the recording, “I’d like to say ‘thank you’ on behalf of the group and ourselves and I hope we passed the audition,” was taken from the rooftop recordings and spliced onto the end of the album version. The next song, "Don’t Let Me Down", was recorded during the Get Back (Let It Be) sessions, but ended up being dropped from the album (it appears later on the Past Masters album). I can’t imagine why it wasn’t included, as the raw emotion in John’s vocals makes it one of my favorite Beatles songs. "I’ve Got a Feeling", an amalgam of two different songs (one by Paul, the other by John), was the next song played, and in this case the recording from the rooftop performance actually made it onto the album. On the heels of “I’ve Got a Feeling” came "One After 909", a song that wouldn’t sound out of place on an early Beatles album. This is another track taken straight from their rooftop performance (John’s “Danny Boy” ending being a goofy ad-lib). The last unique song played that day was another of my multitude of favorites, "Dig a Pony". Again, the album version and the rooftop version are one and the same. That “Hold it!” yelled at the beginning is Ringo asking everyone to wait, as he had a cigarette in hand at the time. I can’t say why, but the inclusion of that moment on the album just makes my day. After “Dig a Pony,” they played “I’ve Got a Feeling” again, followed by another performance of “Don’t Let Me Down.” As I said earlier, they finished with “Get Back,” and yes, John, I’m pretty sure you passed the audition.
1988 saw the release of the Past Masters album, 33 tracks on two CDs that included all the bits and bobs that hadn’t made it onto the previously listed albums. Perhaps “bits and bobs” is a deceptive choice of words, since the album contains such seminal Beatles songs as "From Me To You", "She Loves You", "I Want To Hold Your Hand", and "I Feel Fine". And that’s just Disc 1!
The second disc is full of Beatles classics as well. You can never go wrong with "Hey Jude", and if you can hear “na na na na-na na na” without singing along then you, my friend, have a soul as black as the night. The disc also contains 1965’s lighthearted "Day Tripper", a tongue-in-cheek ditty about half-assed hippies, and "We Can Work It Out", which was originally released on the same single. Another song close to my heart is "Paperback Writer", mostly because it’s a fun song, but also because I wouldn’t mind being a paperback writer myself. You're probably unfamiliar with the song unless you’re a big fan, but I’ve grown quite attached to Harrison’s "Old Brown Shoe". I just wish the audio was better; it definitely sounds like an old "Brown Shoe." Despite Satan’s minion, Yoko, being a prominent feature of the song, I can’t help but enjoy "The Ballad of John & Yoko". If only Mark David Chapman’s aim had been off.
The three Anthology albums were released in late 1995 and early 1996. Not for the casual fan, the albums contain a wealth of alternate versions, demos, live performances, and the like. For Beatlemaniacs, it’s a fascinating look at the creative process of the Beatles. There are recordings of rehearsals where it’s obvious that the lyrics were yet to be finalized (I just hate it when doctors smink of gin), takes featuring false starts, and even a take completely derailed by a giggle fit (I have a feeling all were not sober at the time). And remember “Old Brown Shoe” and it’s bad audio? Oddly, the demo sounds quite a bit better.
In 2006, Cirque du Soleil began their show Love, based upon the music of the Beatles. To the extreme pleasure of this Beatles fan, they tapped George Martin and his son Giles to remix a wonderful selection of the Beatles catalogue. The hard work of the Martins (and George’s intimate familiarity with the music) produced a work of sheer genius.
This album introduced me to a song I had previously overlooked: "Lady Madonna". I fell in love immediately, and, while biased by hearing this version first, I feel that it’s an improvement over the original. I wish I could present "Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds" and "Octopus’s Garden" as a single piece, because the way they are tied together by the string portion of “Good Night” is absolutely beautiful. Instead, try queuing them both up and starting “Octopus’s Garden” as soon as “Lucy” is done; you’ll get the general idea. For those of you who think “Hey Jude” is too long (and I won’t blame you if you do), give this version a try. Not only is it significantly shorter, but it’s also got a sweet bass line added in for most of the last minute. The bass line actually appears ever so faintly in the last six seconds or so of the original, but bringing it to the fore makes for quite an improvement (as does dropping everything but the vocals and percussion prior to the bass line’s appearance). As mush as I love the revamped “Hey Jude,” I think the new "Strawberry Fields Forever" is the pinnacle of the album (Strawberry Peak?). The original is surely a classic, but I’m batshit crazy for the way the last two minutes or so of this song turned out, seamlessly integrating parts of “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” “In My Life,” “Penny Lane,” “Piggies” (did I mention that I love the harpsichord?), and, most notably, the “Hey-la” section of “Hello, Goodbye.” This, my friends, is a work of art.
And so we end Beatlemania on as high a note as I can think of. I hope I was able to shed some light on an unfamiliar song or two. I think the Beatles are the high water mark of music, a brilliant mixture of the profound and the profane, the ordinary and the sublime. And as I said before, I dare you to find another band who evolved so much in so little time, and who has inspired so many, both musicians and laymen alike.
Now will someone please perform the ritual that sends Yoko back to her place among the nine circles of Hell?
*I should note that I have once again leaned on Wiki for many of the facts used in Beatlemania. All opinions are my own.
1968’s The Beatles (aka The White Album) was the beginning of the end for The Beatles. Whether the appearance of she-devil Yoko Ono was wholly or partly responsible for the discord is open to debate, but my impression is that she was most certainly a monkey wrench in the gears of a previously well-oiled machine. Regardless of the cause of the contentiousness, the studio sessions for The White Album featured a wealth of disagreements, with John and Paul occasionally in different studios recording different songs. Ringo even quit the band for a short period of time before being convinced to come back. The divisiveness of The Beatles at this time is starkly apparent on the double album, which contains a bizarre (yet great) selection of songs.
It’s tough to pare this lot down, but I’ll do my best. I’ll start with George Harrison’s "Piggies", because, as I’ve already mentioned, I love the sound of the harpsichord, I dig the stringed instruments, and get a kick out of the pig sound effects (what can I say? I’m easily amused). "Sexy Sadie" is another great track I just love to sing along to (even those high notes that I can’t hit). Another fun sing-a-long track is "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da"; a great song to wail in the shower, I’d say. And speaking of wailing, the simplistic yet highly amusing "Why Don’t We Do It In the Road?" features some excellent wailing by Paul. Love this song, and not just because it was inspired by two monkeys in India going at it (but it helps). "Happiness Is a Warm Gun" is supposedly Paul’s favorite song on The White Album, and it’s certainly in my top five. It’s structurally complex, lyrically interesting, and, in the end, just plain fun. "I’m So Tired" may just be my favorite song on the album. While the song isn’t about depression, it certainly strikes a chord in me. I can relate very much with the overriding sentiment of the song (“I’d give you everything I’ve got for a little peace of mind”), and I love the emotion John puts into his vocals (especially around :38-:45).
The White Album is truly great, and there is a wealth of excellent songs that I didn’t mention. If you’re not familiar with it, I highly suggest giving it a listen. And even if you do know it, I suggest revisiting it occasionally. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone back to it and thought, “How did I miss this song?!”
Yellow Submarine, released in 1969, is an unusual album. Only half of the twelve songs on the album are performed by the Beatles, and of those six, two were previously released on other albums (“Yellow Submarine” on Revolver and “All You Need Is Love” on Magical Mystery Tour). The other six tracks are symphonic tracks from the film Yellow Submarine. I enjoy a good orchestral piece, but I’m not overly impressed by the offerings on this album, and of the four new tracks only "All Together Now" and "Hey Bulldog" (the best new song on the album, in my opinion) regularly make it onto my playlists. If the Beatles made a forgettable album, this one is it.
1969’s second release, Abbey Road, on the other hand, is chock full of goodness. Actually recorded after the majority of Let It Be (the last studio album released by the band), this album represents their final attempt to put their differences aside and “go out on a high note.” I don’t think it’s a coincidence that many of the songs on the album have a wistful feeling to them.
Nevertheless, the album starts off with a bang. The first song, "Come Together" is not only a classic, but also seems to act as encouragement for the band, as if they’re telling each other, “This is the last time, so let’s do this right.” The second track, "Something", is, in my humble opinion, one of the greatest love songs ever written. Too bad Yoko’s in the video. But on a happier note, "Octopus’s Garden", where my blog gets its name, is on the album. It’s a fun bit of nonsense, and probably my favorite Ringo track (not that there are a lot to choose from). And speaking of fun bits of nonsense, you can’t go wrong with the short tale of "Mean Mr. Mustard". An interesting bit of trivia regarding the song "Because": it features the chords of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” played backwards. While it’s hard to pick a favorite off the album, "Oh! Darling" may just be it. I recall listening to it repeatedly when I first discovered it, and it doesn’t hurt that it has one of my favorite things in it: Paul screaming his head off. Just a great track.
The final studio album released by the Beatles was 1970’s Let It Be. A documentary of the same name was filmed during the album’s recording sessions. The film ends with the infamous impromptu rooftop concert held on top of Apple’s building (the record company, not the makers of iPods), which was eventually broken up by the police. Apparently London’s business district found the Beatle’s last live performance distracting.
In honor of their last live performance, I thought I’d share the songs they played on that rooftop in London (although the links I provide will be to the album versions). They started off with a couple goes at what was, at the time, meant to be the title track of the album, "Get Back", which was also the last song they played that day. In fact, John’s comment at the end of the recording, “I’d like to say ‘thank you’ on behalf of the group and ourselves and I hope we passed the audition,” was taken from the rooftop recordings and spliced onto the end of the album version. The next song, "Don’t Let Me Down", was recorded during the Get Back (Let It Be) sessions, but ended up being dropped from the album (it appears later on the Past Masters album). I can’t imagine why it wasn’t included, as the raw emotion in John’s vocals makes it one of my favorite Beatles songs. "I’ve Got a Feeling", an amalgam of two different songs (one by Paul, the other by John), was the next song played, and in this case the recording from the rooftop performance actually made it onto the album. On the heels of “I’ve Got a Feeling” came "One After 909", a song that wouldn’t sound out of place on an early Beatles album. This is another track taken straight from their rooftop performance (John’s “Danny Boy” ending being a goofy ad-lib). The last unique song played that day was another of my multitude of favorites, "Dig a Pony". Again, the album version and the rooftop version are one and the same. That “Hold it!” yelled at the beginning is Ringo asking everyone to wait, as he had a cigarette in hand at the time. I can’t say why, but the inclusion of that moment on the album just makes my day. After “Dig a Pony,” they played “I’ve Got a Feeling” again, followed by another performance of “Don’t Let Me Down.” As I said earlier, they finished with “Get Back,” and yes, John, I’m pretty sure you passed the audition.
1988 saw the release of the Past Masters album, 33 tracks on two CDs that included all the bits and bobs that hadn’t made it onto the previously listed albums. Perhaps “bits and bobs” is a deceptive choice of words, since the album contains such seminal Beatles songs as "From Me To You", "She Loves You", "I Want To Hold Your Hand", and "I Feel Fine". And that’s just Disc 1!
The second disc is full of Beatles classics as well. You can never go wrong with "Hey Jude", and if you can hear “na na na na-na na na” without singing along then you, my friend, have a soul as black as the night. The disc also contains 1965’s lighthearted "Day Tripper", a tongue-in-cheek ditty about half-assed hippies, and "We Can Work It Out", which was originally released on the same single. Another song close to my heart is "Paperback Writer", mostly because it’s a fun song, but also because I wouldn’t mind being a paperback writer myself. You're probably unfamiliar with the song unless you’re a big fan, but I’ve grown quite attached to Harrison’s "Old Brown Shoe". I just wish the audio was better; it definitely sounds like an old "Brown Shoe." Despite Satan’s minion, Yoko, being a prominent feature of the song, I can’t help but enjoy "The Ballad of John & Yoko". If only Mark David Chapman’s aim had been off.
The three Anthology albums were released in late 1995 and early 1996. Not for the casual fan, the albums contain a wealth of alternate versions, demos, live performances, and the like. For Beatlemaniacs, it’s a fascinating look at the creative process of the Beatles. There are recordings of rehearsals where it’s obvious that the lyrics were yet to be finalized (I just hate it when doctors smink of gin), takes featuring false starts, and even a take completely derailed by a giggle fit (I have a feeling all were not sober at the time). And remember “Old Brown Shoe” and it’s bad audio? Oddly, the demo sounds quite a bit better.
In 2006, Cirque du Soleil began their show Love, based upon the music of the Beatles. To the extreme pleasure of this Beatles fan, they tapped George Martin and his son Giles to remix a wonderful selection of the Beatles catalogue. The hard work of the Martins (and George’s intimate familiarity with the music) produced a work of sheer genius.
This album introduced me to a song I had previously overlooked: "Lady Madonna". I fell in love immediately, and, while biased by hearing this version first, I feel that it’s an improvement over the original. I wish I could present "Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds" and "Octopus’s Garden" as a single piece, because the way they are tied together by the string portion of “Good Night” is absolutely beautiful. Instead, try queuing them both up and starting “Octopus’s Garden” as soon as “Lucy” is done; you’ll get the general idea. For those of you who think “Hey Jude” is too long (and I won’t blame you if you do), give this version a try. Not only is it significantly shorter, but it’s also got a sweet bass line added in for most of the last minute. The bass line actually appears ever so faintly in the last six seconds or so of the original, but bringing it to the fore makes for quite an improvement (as does dropping everything but the vocals and percussion prior to the bass line’s appearance). As mush as I love the revamped “Hey Jude,” I think the new "Strawberry Fields Forever" is the pinnacle of the album (Strawberry Peak?). The original is surely a classic, but I’m batshit crazy for the way the last two minutes or so of this song turned out, seamlessly integrating parts of “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” “In My Life,” “Penny Lane,” “Piggies” (did I mention that I love the harpsichord?), and, most notably, the “Hey-la” section of “Hello, Goodbye.” This, my friends, is a work of art.
And so we end Beatlemania on as high a note as I can think of. I hope I was able to shed some light on an unfamiliar song or two. I think the Beatles are the high water mark of music, a brilliant mixture of the profound and the profane, the ordinary and the sublime. And as I said before, I dare you to find another band who evolved so much in so little time, and who has inspired so many, both musicians and laymen alike.
Now will someone please perform the ritual that sends Yoko back to her place among the nine circles of Hell?
*I should note that I have once again leaned on Wiki for many of the facts used in Beatlemania. All opinions are my own.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Thoughts On Campaign Finance Reform
American politics today is a joke. It is awash in partisanship and corporate money. Every election year, instead of ads espousing a candidate’s position on actual issues, we all must suffer through endless attack ads paid for by candidates and special interest groups alike. This year the Supreme Court had a chance to reign in part of this problem and failed miserably.
This is an incredibly serious problem. Multi-billion dollar corporations now have the right to flood us with ads for their choice of candidate. This wouldn’t be such a problem if the electorate were well informed and voted according to a candidate’s stance on important issues. Unfortunately, this is not the case.
Politics have become a popularity contest, American Idol: Politics. People vote according to whom they know the best or what party the candidate is in, regardless of the candidate’s stance on issues of import. Hell, I’d argue that most people wouldn’t know an “issue of import” if it bit them on the ass. Candidates don’t even need to talk much about their beliefs, their backgrounds, or what they consider to be important in today’s political world. They just hit the talking points that we’ve all been conditioned to care about: abortion, immigration, taxes, and so on. A candidate’s chances of election hang as much on superficialities—such as whether he wears an American flag lapel pin—as they do on anything the guy’s actually said. It’s pathetic.
I don’t know how we can fix the problem of superficiality in today’s politics. My guess is that ensuring a better education for all would help, but good luck with that. I do believe, however, that enacting stringent campaign finance reform can start things moving in the right direction.
As it stands, politicians must spend large amounts of time and energy raising funds for their campaigns. They’re essentially whores, exchanging the promise of favors in return for money. “You give me X amount of dollars, and I promise to look out for the Elderly Jewish Star Trek Fans of Pensacola Florida!” I suppose that’s all well and good when the benefits are promised to aged geeks, but we start to have serious problems when it’s corporations who are owed the favor. This is how corruption breeds in Washington.
So what do we do? We can’t take the money out of politics, right? I don’t think we have to. All we have to do is make contributions to specific candidates illegal. I say we allow people and corporations to donate however much they want, but it must all go into one large pot, to be divided up equally among the candidates. In this way, we have no politician beholden to anyone. At least not due to the campaign process.
I’m unsure on the specifics of this; I’m no expert when it comes to this area. But why can’t it work? I suppose there are at least a couple of ways it could be done. One, all money is contributed to the same large pot, and then divided up among the states and candidates according to population statistics and so on. Or each state or district could have its own fund to be divided equally among the candidates.
And in an effort to educate the electorate and get them focused on what matters, a ban on third party ads should also be enacted. I don’t care what the “Committee For Killing Commies” has to say about the candidates. If we have to endure political ads on TV, let them be solely from the candidates involved. We could even go so far as to ban TV ads altogether and instead allow for specific times for candidates to publicly debate the issues at hand. I’d say campaign money would be much better spent on a series of debates—that include third party candidates, mind you—than on endless attack ads that are generally misleading and beside the point.
What do you think about this idea? That’s not rhetorical; I really want to know. Obviously there’d be a lot of kinks to work out, but I think that this would go a long way towards cleaning up American politics. It could even have the added benefit of allowing third party candidates to get their message out and break the monopoly the Democrats and Republicans have on our political system. Yes, I’m sure there are flaws in this plan (if you can call something so basic a plan), but I think it’s better than the current system. Special interests would still be allowed to delude the masses through mailing leaflets and such, so no whining about the First Amendment (corporations shouldn’t be included in the First Amendment anyway). They could spend their money on reams of lies and misinformation, and hopefully these lies would be relegated to the trash where they belong.
This is an incredibly serious problem. Multi-billion dollar corporations now have the right to flood us with ads for their choice of candidate. This wouldn’t be such a problem if the electorate were well informed and voted according to a candidate’s stance on important issues. Unfortunately, this is not the case.
Politics have become a popularity contest, American Idol: Politics. People vote according to whom they know the best or what party the candidate is in, regardless of the candidate’s stance on issues of import. Hell, I’d argue that most people wouldn’t know an “issue of import” if it bit them on the ass. Candidates don’t even need to talk much about their beliefs, their backgrounds, or what they consider to be important in today’s political world. They just hit the talking points that we’ve all been conditioned to care about: abortion, immigration, taxes, and so on. A candidate’s chances of election hang as much on superficialities—such as whether he wears an American flag lapel pin—as they do on anything the guy’s actually said. It’s pathetic.
I don’t know how we can fix the problem of superficiality in today’s politics. My guess is that ensuring a better education for all would help, but good luck with that. I do believe, however, that enacting stringent campaign finance reform can start things moving in the right direction.
As it stands, politicians must spend large amounts of time and energy raising funds for their campaigns. They’re essentially whores, exchanging the promise of favors in return for money. “You give me X amount of dollars, and I promise to look out for the Elderly Jewish Star Trek Fans of Pensacola Florida!” I suppose that’s all well and good when the benefits are promised to aged geeks, but we start to have serious problems when it’s corporations who are owed the favor. This is how corruption breeds in Washington.
So what do we do? We can’t take the money out of politics, right? I don’t think we have to. All we have to do is make contributions to specific candidates illegal. I say we allow people and corporations to donate however much they want, but it must all go into one large pot, to be divided up equally among the candidates. In this way, we have no politician beholden to anyone. At least not due to the campaign process.
I’m unsure on the specifics of this; I’m no expert when it comes to this area. But why can’t it work? I suppose there are at least a couple of ways it could be done. One, all money is contributed to the same large pot, and then divided up among the states and candidates according to population statistics and so on. Or each state or district could have its own fund to be divided equally among the candidates.
And in an effort to educate the electorate and get them focused on what matters, a ban on third party ads should also be enacted. I don’t care what the “Committee For Killing Commies” has to say about the candidates. If we have to endure political ads on TV, let them be solely from the candidates involved. We could even go so far as to ban TV ads altogether and instead allow for specific times for candidates to publicly debate the issues at hand. I’d say campaign money would be much better spent on a series of debates—that include third party candidates, mind you—than on endless attack ads that are generally misleading and beside the point.
What do you think about this idea? That’s not rhetorical; I really want to know. Obviously there’d be a lot of kinks to work out, but I think that this would go a long way towards cleaning up American politics. It could even have the added benefit of allowing third party candidates to get their message out and break the monopoly the Democrats and Republicans have on our political system. Yes, I’m sure there are flaws in this plan (if you can call something so basic a plan), but I think it’s better than the current system. Special interests would still be allowed to delude the masses through mailing leaflets and such, so no whining about the First Amendment (corporations shouldn’t be included in the First Amendment anyway). They could spend their money on reams of lies and misinformation, and hopefully these lies would be relegated to the trash where they belong.
Friday, April 23, 2010
It's Time For a Change
It's a little over a year into Obama's presidency, and I must admit to being surprised and dismayed by the national mood, most notably the rhetoric from the right. I understand that Obama is not their guy, but is it really necessary to vilify him and undermine everything that he does? Is it necessary to hate him, just because you disagree with him? That’s what conservatives seem to be doing. They are inciting hatred of Obama.
I understand feeling frustrated by the policies of the President. The Bush Administration frustrated liberals for eight long years. Bush and Company stole an election to gain the Presidency. They instituted policies that went against everything we stood for. They started two wars, one on false pretenses. They lied to our faces, oozed arrogance in their dealings with other countries, and generally made a mockery of America.
But we didn’t hate Bush. We made fun of him (it’s not like he made it hard). We rallied against his attitudes and policies. We condemned his short sightedness. But I really don’t think that we hated him. He seemed like a nice enough guy, just not the guy we wanted running our country. He seemed like the kind of guy you could go out and have a beer with (or do a little blow with, if that’s your thing—it’s not mine), but he was, in our estimation, too simple-minded to be in charge of the most powerful country on the planet. The President needs the ability to distinguish between shades of grey, and Bush was most definitely a black and white kinda guy.
But we put up with him, and when 2008 rolled around we got our guy into office. Obama is as imperfect as any human, and I haven’t agreed with everything he’s done since taking office, but I believe that he is heading us in the right direction. He’s shown respect to the leaders of the world, rather than acting like a superior. He’s done his best to keep our economic crisis from worsening. He’s made a giant, albeit imperfect, step towards universal health care in this country. You may not agree with these decisions, but I’ll take a President who is trying to save a country (our own) over someone trying to invade one (or two).
And yet conservatives genuinely seem to hate him. The Tea Party types call him a communist (he’s not). They insist he wasn’t born in America (he was). They insist he’s going to take away their freedoms (this is just ridiculous). It’s as if the fear-based culture encouraged by the Bush Administration has infected the populace, and now anything that doesn’t fall in line with someone’s view of the world is something not just to be disagreed with, but hated with wholehearted sincerity. It’s as if there’s no middle ground anymore, no agreeing to disagree and maintaining a healthy respect for one another. It’s frightening.
Worst of all, this is an attitude that is not just shared, but encouraged by the conservatives in government. It’s one thing for an uneducated layman to insist that Obama is going to make fishing illegal. It’s another to have hate, lies, and misinformation being spread by those in charge of things. They should know better.
It is not the job of Republicans to agree with Obama. It is, however, their job to work with him in an effort to make this country a better place. And they’re not doing their job. They are sitting on the sidelines, spewing hatred, and refusing to join in. They have taken their ball and gone home.
So they didn’t like the health care bill. Fine. But they don’t have the right to whine and complain about Obama passing it anyway when they made no real effort to change it for (what they perceived to be) the better. Many Republicans rallied against Obama’s stimulus plan, fought it tooth and nail, and then the hypocrites took the money offered by it anyway. Why? Because they didn’t truly oppose it. They understood its necessity. But by opposing it they can say to their constituents come election time that they fought it. The fact that it actually ended up helping many communities will surely be overlooked, somehow.
And this is what disturbs me about the current Republican regime. They aren’t trying to help this country; they’re trying to help themselves. They have been obstinate opponents of Obama’s every move not because they disagree with him, but because they’re afraid he will succeed, despite the fact that his succeeding would help this country. They want him to fall flat on his face so that they can regain power and things can return to “normal.” It has nothing to do with a better America, and everything to do with power. It’s self-serving bullshit, and it’s despicable.
Think about it. Whether you agree with those in power or not, wouldn’t you rather have your party working to find some middle ground on important issues, rather than causing it to erode? If there’s no middle ground then there are only two options: you get what you want or they do. That’s not what checks and balances are for. It is not the job of the minority party to work against the majority party. It’s their job to work with them. And that’s where Republicans have failed mightily.
You don’t have to like Obama. But he’s not Hitler. He’s not Pol Pot. He is a man trying his best to do what he believes is right, just like Bush was. You don’t have to agree with him. But you shouldn’t have to hate him, either, and you sure as hell should be willing to work with him.
So I urge the conservatives of this nation to take a good look at the actions of those who control your party. Do you really want your party run by a schoolyard clique? If the answer is no, then let those guys know that it’s time for a change of attitude. If the answer is yes, then god help us all.
I understand feeling frustrated by the policies of the President. The Bush Administration frustrated liberals for eight long years. Bush and Company stole an election to gain the Presidency. They instituted policies that went against everything we stood for. They started two wars, one on false pretenses. They lied to our faces, oozed arrogance in their dealings with other countries, and generally made a mockery of America.
But we didn’t hate Bush. We made fun of him (it’s not like he made it hard). We rallied against his attitudes and policies. We condemned his short sightedness. But I really don’t think that we hated him. He seemed like a nice enough guy, just not the guy we wanted running our country. He seemed like the kind of guy you could go out and have a beer with (or do a little blow with, if that’s your thing—it’s not mine), but he was, in our estimation, too simple-minded to be in charge of the most powerful country on the planet. The President needs the ability to distinguish between shades of grey, and Bush was most definitely a black and white kinda guy.
But we put up with him, and when 2008 rolled around we got our guy into office. Obama is as imperfect as any human, and I haven’t agreed with everything he’s done since taking office, but I believe that he is heading us in the right direction. He’s shown respect to the leaders of the world, rather than acting like a superior. He’s done his best to keep our economic crisis from worsening. He’s made a giant, albeit imperfect, step towards universal health care in this country. You may not agree with these decisions, but I’ll take a President who is trying to save a country (our own) over someone trying to invade one (or two).
And yet conservatives genuinely seem to hate him. The Tea Party types call him a communist (he’s not). They insist he wasn’t born in America (he was). They insist he’s going to take away their freedoms (this is just ridiculous). It’s as if the fear-based culture encouraged by the Bush Administration has infected the populace, and now anything that doesn’t fall in line with someone’s view of the world is something not just to be disagreed with, but hated with wholehearted sincerity. It’s as if there’s no middle ground anymore, no agreeing to disagree and maintaining a healthy respect for one another. It’s frightening.
Worst of all, this is an attitude that is not just shared, but encouraged by the conservatives in government. It’s one thing for an uneducated layman to insist that Obama is going to make fishing illegal. It’s another to have hate, lies, and misinformation being spread by those in charge of things. They should know better.
It is not the job of Republicans to agree with Obama. It is, however, their job to work with him in an effort to make this country a better place. And they’re not doing their job. They are sitting on the sidelines, spewing hatred, and refusing to join in. They have taken their ball and gone home.
So they didn’t like the health care bill. Fine. But they don’t have the right to whine and complain about Obama passing it anyway when they made no real effort to change it for (what they perceived to be) the better. Many Republicans rallied against Obama’s stimulus plan, fought it tooth and nail, and then the hypocrites took the money offered by it anyway. Why? Because they didn’t truly oppose it. They understood its necessity. But by opposing it they can say to their constituents come election time that they fought it. The fact that it actually ended up helping many communities will surely be overlooked, somehow.
And this is what disturbs me about the current Republican regime. They aren’t trying to help this country; they’re trying to help themselves. They have been obstinate opponents of Obama’s every move not because they disagree with him, but because they’re afraid he will succeed, despite the fact that his succeeding would help this country. They want him to fall flat on his face so that they can regain power and things can return to “normal.” It has nothing to do with a better America, and everything to do with power. It’s self-serving bullshit, and it’s despicable.
Think about it. Whether you agree with those in power or not, wouldn’t you rather have your party working to find some middle ground on important issues, rather than causing it to erode? If there’s no middle ground then there are only two options: you get what you want or they do. That’s not what checks and balances are for. It is not the job of the minority party to work against the majority party. It’s their job to work with them. And that’s where Republicans have failed mightily.
You don’t have to like Obama. But he’s not Hitler. He’s not Pol Pot. He is a man trying his best to do what he believes is right, just like Bush was. You don’t have to agree with him. But you shouldn’t have to hate him, either, and you sure as hell should be willing to work with him.
So I urge the conservatives of this nation to take a good look at the actions of those who control your party. Do you really want your party run by a schoolyard clique? If the answer is no, then let those guys know that it’s time for a change of attitude. If the answer is yes, then god help us all.
Friday, April 9, 2010
It Burns (Tik Tok Parody)
This is my first (and probably last) music video. Yes, I am mind-blowingly awesome.
P.S. If you like this version of the song spread it far and wide, my friends!
Lyrics
Wake up in the mornin' and I turn on the tube
Then I turn to MTV to try and get in the groove
I see this skanky chick crawlin' up out the bath
I can't believe my eyes, just shake my head and laugh
I'm talking this girl's a train wreck (wreck)
Got hickeys on her neck (neck)
Has lost all self-respect (ect)
I tell ya I start to avert my eyes (eyes)
But what I don't realize (ize)
My bathroom holds a surpriiiiiise
It burns when I pee
Think I got an STD
Watching her video
Man, is that poor chick a ho
Discharge from my head
Who is payin' for my meds?
(That stupid ho)
(That skanky ho)
It burns when I pee
Think I got an STD
Watching her video
Man, is that poor chick a ho
Discharge from my head
Who is payin' for my meds?
(That stupid ho)
(That skanky ho)
Had not a care in the world till I saw this chick
Now I got some milky discharge comin' out my dick
What do you have to do to earn that kind of funk?
Bet her coochie smells like old meat that's been left in the trunk
Im talking serious E. coli (I)
Feel sorry for the guy (guy)
Who next unzips her fly (fly)
I bet it knocks him on his ass (ass)
Like skanky sarin gas (gas)
Be better if he passed (passed)
It burns when I pee
Think I got an STD
Watching her video
Man, is that poor chick a ho
Discharge from my head
Who is payin' for my meds?
(That stupid ho)
(That skanky ho)
It burns when I pee
Think I got an STD
Watching her video
Man, is that poor chick a ho
Discharge from my head
Who is payin' for my meds?
(That stupid ho)
(That skanky ho)
(Girl) you gave me pus
I can't believe
You did it
From long distance
We've never met
Yet here I sit
Hoping I
Don't have herpes
(Girl) You gave me pus
I can't believe
You did it
From long distance
We've never met
You piece of shit
You piece of shit
Now I can't ethically get my freak on
It burns when I pee
Think I got an STD
Watching her video
Man, is that poor chick a ho
Discharge from my head
Who is payin' for my meds?
(That stupid ho)
(That skanky ho)
It burns when I pee
Think I got an STD
Watching her video
Man, is that poor chick a ho
Discharge from my head
Who is payin' for my meds?
(That stupid ho)
(That skanky ho)
P.S. If you like this version of the song spread it far and wide, my friends!
Lyrics
Wake up in the mornin' and I turn on the tube
Then I turn to MTV to try and get in the groove
I see this skanky chick crawlin' up out the bath
I can't believe my eyes, just shake my head and laugh
I'm talking this girl's a train wreck (wreck)
Got hickeys on her neck (neck)
Has lost all self-respect (ect)
I tell ya I start to avert my eyes (eyes)
But what I don't realize (ize)
My bathroom holds a surpriiiiiise
It burns when I pee
Think I got an STD
Watching her video
Man, is that poor chick a ho
Discharge from my head
Who is payin' for my meds?
(That stupid ho)
(That skanky ho)
It burns when I pee
Think I got an STD
Watching her video
Man, is that poor chick a ho
Discharge from my head
Who is payin' for my meds?
(That stupid ho)
(That skanky ho)
Had not a care in the world till I saw this chick
Now I got some milky discharge comin' out my dick
What do you have to do to earn that kind of funk?
Bet her coochie smells like old meat that's been left in the trunk
Im talking serious E. coli (I)
Feel sorry for the guy (guy)
Who next unzips her fly (fly)
I bet it knocks him on his ass (ass)
Like skanky sarin gas (gas)
Be better if he passed (passed)
It burns when I pee
Think I got an STD
Watching her video
Man, is that poor chick a ho
Discharge from my head
Who is payin' for my meds?
(That stupid ho)
(That skanky ho)
It burns when I pee
Think I got an STD
Watching her video
Man, is that poor chick a ho
Discharge from my head
Who is payin' for my meds?
(That stupid ho)
(That skanky ho)
(Girl) you gave me pus
I can't believe
You did it
From long distance
We've never met
Yet here I sit
Hoping I
Don't have herpes
(Girl) You gave me pus
I can't believe
You did it
From long distance
We've never met
You piece of shit
You piece of shit
Now I can't ethically get my freak on
It burns when I pee
Think I got an STD
Watching her video
Man, is that poor chick a ho
Discharge from my head
Who is payin' for my meds?
(That stupid ho)
(That skanky ho)
It burns when I pee
Think I got an STD
Watching her video
Man, is that poor chick a ho
Discharge from my head
Who is payin' for my meds?
(That stupid ho)
(That skanky ho)
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
The Skydiving Incident
This story is completely true. Until we get to the skydiving part, that is.
In his book Red Dragon, Thomas Harris said (I’m paraphrasing) that fear is the price of imagination. This rung true for me because most of my fears are indeed based upon my ability to imagine the worst.
The best example of this is my fear of heights. It’s one of those primal, crippling fears that I rarely even attempt to overcome. Don’t misunderstand; my acrophobia isn’t so bad that I steadfastly remain on terra firma regardless of the situation, like John Madden’s long-lost son. I’m not that much of a pussy. My phobia simply means that, on the occasions that I do tempt fate, I cannot help but imagine the horrible and gruesome death that my hubristic ascent into the heavens must surely lead to.
For example, anytime I find myself on a plane I inevitably picture the plane losing all power and dropping from the sky like the multi-ton hunk of metal that it is (airplanes are unnatural; surely only witchcraft of the most evil sort keeps them in the sky). I imagine my subsequent descent into madness, in which I lose all control over my mind and bodily functions, for the long wait between the realization that I am going to die and my actual death is what truly terrifies me about heights.
I have repelled into an open cavern (with no walls or stalactites nearby to provide even the slightest comfort), the only thing between me and my piñata-style death being a terrifyingly thin bit of climbing rope. I tried to enjoy the experience of hanging hundreds of feet above a cave floor, and I might have done so for about 6.3 microseconds, but the rest of the descent was spent in the company of an extreme surety that, any second now, that thin rope was going to snap and send me plummeting to a grisly death in which I would (with my luck) end impaled upon a stalagmite.
Then there was the trip I took to Italy with my family. We were in Florence, I believe, and decided to climb to the top of a bell tower or something. The stairs are on the inside of the building, you say? No problemo. Up we went. And up. And up. Until that point, I was convinced that only an Escher drawing had that many stairs. I was mistaken. When we finally reached the roof, we found ourselves approximately 80,000 feet above the city of Florence. It was beautiful. Pants-wettingly beautiful. Try as I might, I couldn’t help but imagine the inevitable earthquake that the gods would send to punish me for climbing to such unnatural heights. The earthquake would topple this tower of Babel, sending me racing towards the earth with thousands of tons of rubble at my flailing heels, just in case the drop somehow spared my life.
Despite this healthy and justifiable fear of a horribly protracted death, I occasionally get it into my head to tempt the Fates. This explains the repelling. It also explains the skydiving trip I recently took. Deciding that I once again needed to face my fears, I took a friend up on an offer to go skydiving. Sounds like fun, right?
We arrived at the airport at 9:00 AM and the process began. We signed waivers. “Something something undersigned…something something liability…blah blah high risk…blah blah see you in the afterlife…” Wait—what?! I re-read the end and was relieved to see that that last bit was merely a figment of my overactive imagination. I signed at the bottom, feeling the mild unease that one must surely experience when signing one’s own will. A little spooked, I began climbing into my jumpsuit, beginning to feel like a man who was being prepared for execution, but oddly giddy as well.
Our instructors did their instructy thing, telling us what to expect, how not to hurt ourselves when leaving the plane and landing, and generally psyching us up for a “bitchin’ time, dudes!” It worked. I was excited. You always jump tandem on your first jump, so I had a talk with my instructor before getting on the plane.
“Look, I’m kinda afraid of heights, so I might need a little help out the door. No matter what I do or say, I want you to please make sure we jump out of that plane as planned, okay?”
“No problem, bro. I’ve jumped with plenty of people like you. We always end up jumping and they always thank me for the help with that first step. It’s gonna be epic!”
I thanked him for his assurances and we all climbed into the plane. We took our seats and off we went into the wild blue yonder. The first thing that I noticed is that this aircraft, a medium-sized prop plane, was decidedly less steady than your average passenger plane.
“Okay,” I told myself, “I should have expected this. It’s a lot lighter than the other planes I’ve been on, so I’m sure that this alarming increase in bumps and noise is perfectly normal.” I tried to calm myself.
Up and up we went. It felt like an eternity. Finally we leveled out and I took a peak out of a window. I’m pretty sure I see stars. And was that a satellite that just cruised by at a bajillion miles per hour? The first creeping tendrils of mind-numbing terror began to wrap around my mind.
What the fuck am I doing?! I’m terrified of heights, and I’m about to jump out of a perfectly functional airplane! Good lord, I’m gonna die! The parachute is going to fail and my instructor and I are going to race each other towards our deaths. We are going to become one, in the most inescapable and appalling manner, with the earth and each other. Oh shit, I am officially freaking out!
Then someone opened the door.
It was as if they opened the door to Hades itself. The wind shrieked like a banshee, buffeting everyone inside with icy cold. I swear I could hear the screaming of the damned in that wind, and they’re all saying the same thing: “You’re gonna die, honky!”
“Dude, I can’t do this!” I yelled over the wailing wind. “I appreciate this opportunity to laugh in Death’s face, but I think I’m going to pass, ride down with the sane people piloting this thing, and live the rest of my life with a healthy and responsible fear of Death instead.”
The instructor laughed and told me everything would be fine. That son of a bitch! I decided that if I live through this I’m going to kill him and everyone he’s ever loved. Twice.
My friend and her instructor positioned themselves at the door. She gave me the thumbs up, turned back to the door and jumped out. I’m convinced that it’s the last time I’ll ever see her, unless, of course, you count the quick glimpse I’ll get of her mangled corpse embedded in the ground before I hit and become one myself.
We began walking towards the door. At this point I am nearly insane with fear. I beg. I plead. I threaten. Nothing fazes this guy.
“Oh no you don’t,” he said with a laugh. “Don’t think I forgot what you told me! ‘No matter what I do or say, I want you to make sure we jump.’ I’m helping you face your fears, dude! Have fun with this!”
The small sliver of me that has managed to remain sane makes a mental note to invent time travel with the intent of going back in time and kicking my own stupid ass for uttering what was clearly the stupidest thing I’ve ever said. I’ll give me a beating I won’t soon forget!
I continued begging anyway. I was now crying, complete with snot running down my face. The instructor, hooked to my back, couldn’t see this. He patted me on the shoulder and we were out, falling towards the earth at what will soon be terminal velocity.
I screamed like a 5-year old girl who has just watched an axe-murderer butcher her favorite pony.
I flailed like an epileptic spider monkey.
Never in all my life have I experienced such mind-altering terror. My mind couldn’t even begin to process the enormity of the fear I was experiencing as I plummeted towards what was surely my death. And, oh great zombie Jesus, did I just…
Yep. I just wet myself.
At first it was warm, a somehow soothing feeling that spread from my nether regions. This did not last long. The thing about the air at that height is that it’s cold. The warmth of my ever-spreading urine is no match for the bitter cold of the air and wind at several thousand feet. The icy hands of fate quickly turned my naughty bits into a crotchsicle. I began to fear that, even should the parachute properly deploy, my now frozen penis might just snap off upon landing.
I estimate that it was at about this time that my instructor noticed something was wrong, because he suddenly yelled, “Dude!” He yanked the chord, and, much to my surprise, the parachute unfurled without a hitch.
“Dude, did you piss yourself?!” are the first words I’m able to hear once the wind dies down.
“Um, no!” I yelled back, trying to find a way to save my dignity. “I think we hit a duck! That must be blood!”
He wasn’t buying it. “Dude! Uncool, man! Uncool! I’m covered in man-piss!”
And without warning, my instructor began to retch uncontrollably.
This was an extremely unfortunate situation for me, as I was directly in front of him. As warm, chunky vomit covered my head and back I did what came naturally. I myself began to puke. Violently.
“BLAAARGH! OH GOD!” I screamed. “BLAAAAAARGH! SOME OF YOUR PUKE GOT IN MY MOUTH! BLAAAAAAAAAARGH!”
And so we descended back to earth, an ever-dwindling twin fountain of bile and breakfast. We landed and crumpled to the ground, two men covered from head to toe in vomit and urine, dry-heaving in the puke-splattered grass.
“Never—HUUUUUAAH—again—HUUUUUGGGGH,” I said between heaves.
“You got—HUAARGH—that right—HUUUAAAAH—buddy!” came my instructor’s reply.
And thus was I banned from skydiving in Colorado. I attempted to get my money back, citing the unprofessional manner in which my instructor unloaded the contents of his stomach onto me, but they would hear nothing of it.
Apparently a little pee puts the blame squarely on me.
*I would like to thank Tucker Max for inspiring me to move past simple urination and go for the gold--a full on floating vomitfest.
In his book Red Dragon, Thomas Harris said (I’m paraphrasing) that fear is the price of imagination. This rung true for me because most of my fears are indeed based upon my ability to imagine the worst.
The best example of this is my fear of heights. It’s one of those primal, crippling fears that I rarely even attempt to overcome. Don’t misunderstand; my acrophobia isn’t so bad that I steadfastly remain on terra firma regardless of the situation, like John Madden’s long-lost son. I’m not that much of a pussy. My phobia simply means that, on the occasions that I do tempt fate, I cannot help but imagine the horrible and gruesome death that my hubristic ascent into the heavens must surely lead to.
For example, anytime I find myself on a plane I inevitably picture the plane losing all power and dropping from the sky like the multi-ton hunk of metal that it is (airplanes are unnatural; surely only witchcraft of the most evil sort keeps them in the sky). I imagine my subsequent descent into madness, in which I lose all control over my mind and bodily functions, for the long wait between the realization that I am going to die and my actual death is what truly terrifies me about heights.
I have repelled into an open cavern (with no walls or stalactites nearby to provide even the slightest comfort), the only thing between me and my piñata-style death being a terrifyingly thin bit of climbing rope. I tried to enjoy the experience of hanging hundreds of feet above a cave floor, and I might have done so for about 6.3 microseconds, but the rest of the descent was spent in the company of an extreme surety that, any second now, that thin rope was going to snap and send me plummeting to a grisly death in which I would (with my luck) end impaled upon a stalagmite.
Then there was the trip I took to Italy with my family. We were in Florence, I believe, and decided to climb to the top of a bell tower or something. The stairs are on the inside of the building, you say? No problemo. Up we went. And up. And up. Until that point, I was convinced that only an Escher drawing had that many stairs. I was mistaken. When we finally reached the roof, we found ourselves approximately 80,000 feet above the city of Florence. It was beautiful. Pants-wettingly beautiful. Try as I might, I couldn’t help but imagine the inevitable earthquake that the gods would send to punish me for climbing to such unnatural heights. The earthquake would topple this tower of Babel, sending me racing towards the earth with thousands of tons of rubble at my flailing heels, just in case the drop somehow spared my life.
Despite this healthy and justifiable fear of a horribly protracted death, I occasionally get it into my head to tempt the Fates. This explains the repelling. It also explains the skydiving trip I recently took. Deciding that I once again needed to face my fears, I took a friend up on an offer to go skydiving. Sounds like fun, right?
We arrived at the airport at 9:00 AM and the process began. We signed waivers. “Something something undersigned…something something liability…blah blah high risk…blah blah see you in the afterlife…” Wait—what?! I re-read the end and was relieved to see that that last bit was merely a figment of my overactive imagination. I signed at the bottom, feeling the mild unease that one must surely experience when signing one’s own will. A little spooked, I began climbing into my jumpsuit, beginning to feel like a man who was being prepared for execution, but oddly giddy as well.
Our instructors did their instructy thing, telling us what to expect, how not to hurt ourselves when leaving the plane and landing, and generally psyching us up for a “bitchin’ time, dudes!” It worked. I was excited. You always jump tandem on your first jump, so I had a talk with my instructor before getting on the plane.
“Look, I’m kinda afraid of heights, so I might need a little help out the door. No matter what I do or say, I want you to please make sure we jump out of that plane as planned, okay?”
“No problem, bro. I’ve jumped with plenty of people like you. We always end up jumping and they always thank me for the help with that first step. It’s gonna be epic!”
I thanked him for his assurances and we all climbed into the plane. We took our seats and off we went into the wild blue yonder. The first thing that I noticed is that this aircraft, a medium-sized prop plane, was decidedly less steady than your average passenger plane.
“Okay,” I told myself, “I should have expected this. It’s a lot lighter than the other planes I’ve been on, so I’m sure that this alarming increase in bumps and noise is perfectly normal.” I tried to calm myself.
Up and up we went. It felt like an eternity. Finally we leveled out and I took a peak out of a window. I’m pretty sure I see stars. And was that a satellite that just cruised by at a bajillion miles per hour? The first creeping tendrils of mind-numbing terror began to wrap around my mind.
What the fuck am I doing?! I’m terrified of heights, and I’m about to jump out of a perfectly functional airplane! Good lord, I’m gonna die! The parachute is going to fail and my instructor and I are going to race each other towards our deaths. We are going to become one, in the most inescapable and appalling manner, with the earth and each other. Oh shit, I am officially freaking out!
Then someone opened the door.
It was as if they opened the door to Hades itself. The wind shrieked like a banshee, buffeting everyone inside with icy cold. I swear I could hear the screaming of the damned in that wind, and they’re all saying the same thing: “You’re gonna die, honky!”
“Dude, I can’t do this!” I yelled over the wailing wind. “I appreciate this opportunity to laugh in Death’s face, but I think I’m going to pass, ride down with the sane people piloting this thing, and live the rest of my life with a healthy and responsible fear of Death instead.”
The instructor laughed and told me everything would be fine. That son of a bitch! I decided that if I live through this I’m going to kill him and everyone he’s ever loved. Twice.
My friend and her instructor positioned themselves at the door. She gave me the thumbs up, turned back to the door and jumped out. I’m convinced that it’s the last time I’ll ever see her, unless, of course, you count the quick glimpse I’ll get of her mangled corpse embedded in the ground before I hit and become one myself.
We began walking towards the door. At this point I am nearly insane with fear. I beg. I plead. I threaten. Nothing fazes this guy.
“Oh no you don’t,” he said with a laugh. “Don’t think I forgot what you told me! ‘No matter what I do or say, I want you to make sure we jump.’ I’m helping you face your fears, dude! Have fun with this!”
The small sliver of me that has managed to remain sane makes a mental note to invent time travel with the intent of going back in time and kicking my own stupid ass for uttering what was clearly the stupidest thing I’ve ever said. I’ll give me a beating I won’t soon forget!
I continued begging anyway. I was now crying, complete with snot running down my face. The instructor, hooked to my back, couldn’t see this. He patted me on the shoulder and we were out, falling towards the earth at what will soon be terminal velocity.
I screamed like a 5-year old girl who has just watched an axe-murderer butcher her favorite pony.
I flailed like an epileptic spider monkey.
Never in all my life have I experienced such mind-altering terror. My mind couldn’t even begin to process the enormity of the fear I was experiencing as I plummeted towards what was surely my death. And, oh great zombie Jesus, did I just…
Yep. I just wet myself.
At first it was warm, a somehow soothing feeling that spread from my nether regions. This did not last long. The thing about the air at that height is that it’s cold. The warmth of my ever-spreading urine is no match for the bitter cold of the air and wind at several thousand feet. The icy hands of fate quickly turned my naughty bits into a crotchsicle. I began to fear that, even should the parachute properly deploy, my now frozen penis might just snap off upon landing.
I estimate that it was at about this time that my instructor noticed something was wrong, because he suddenly yelled, “Dude!” He yanked the chord, and, much to my surprise, the parachute unfurled without a hitch.
“Dude, did you piss yourself?!” are the first words I’m able to hear once the wind dies down.
“Um, no!” I yelled back, trying to find a way to save my dignity. “I think we hit a duck! That must be blood!”
He wasn’t buying it. “Dude! Uncool, man! Uncool! I’m covered in man-piss!”
And without warning, my instructor began to retch uncontrollably.
This was an extremely unfortunate situation for me, as I was directly in front of him. As warm, chunky vomit covered my head and back I did what came naturally. I myself began to puke. Violently.
“BLAAARGH! OH GOD!” I screamed. “BLAAAAAARGH! SOME OF YOUR PUKE GOT IN MY MOUTH! BLAAAAAAAAAARGH!”
And so we descended back to earth, an ever-dwindling twin fountain of bile and breakfast. We landed and crumpled to the ground, two men covered from head to toe in vomit and urine, dry-heaving in the puke-splattered grass.
“Never—HUUUUUAAH—again—HUUUUUGGGGH,” I said between heaves.
“You got—HUAARGH—that right—HUUUAAAAH—buddy!” came my instructor’s reply.
And thus was I banned from skydiving in Colorado. I attempted to get my money back, citing the unprofessional manner in which my instructor unloaded the contents of his stomach onto me, but they would hear nothing of it.
Apparently a little pee puts the blame squarely on me.
*I would like to thank Tucker Max for inspiring me to move past simple urination and go for the gold--a full on floating vomitfest.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Musicopia: Beatlemania, Part 1
By now you’ve surely noticed that I enjoy a wide variety of music. If I had to pick a favorite musical genre, it would probably be hip-hop, followed by good ol’ rock and roll. My favorite musical act, however, is without question The Beatles.
People often say that you’re a Beatles person or an Elvis person, or, perhaps, a Rolling Stones lover. With all due respect to Elvis and the Stones, there is absolutely no twentieth century musical group or individual more important or influential than The Beatles. Pick a music artist these days and I guarantee that one of their influences is The Beatles (and if they aren’t, then someone directly influenced by them is).
Whether you enjoy their music or not, there is no denying their influence on music in the Western world and beyond, and I dare you to find another group or artist who evolved as drastically as they did over their seven years of recording. They began as a pop-rock group who essentially conformed to the conventions of their predecessors, but before long they were blazing their own trail, experimenting with feedback, sound effects, and unconventional instruments such as the sitar. And, amazingly, their experimentation and growth did nothing to hinder their popularity. If anything, it enhanced it, setting them apart from the wealth of exceptional acts that surfaced in what I consider to be music’s Golden Age, the 60s.
This is why I can’t just stick The Beatles in with the rest of the B’s. My love of their music requires that I give them special attention, for they deserve to be elevated above all. And so I give you a Musicopia special edition: Beatlemania. In Beatlemania I will explore each of the albums within The Beatles canon, consisting of their twelve UK albums, the US version of Magical Mystery Tour, and the Past Masters albums, as well as a smattering of tracks from the Anthology series and the (relatively) newly released Love, which was created for the Cirque du Soleil show of the same name. If you’re a Beatles fan already, then you surely won’t mind being reminded of why you love them. If you’re unfamiliar with their work, then I urge you to take this opportunity to explore it. I doubt you’ll be disappointed.
P.S. Damn you, Yoko!!!!
The Beatles’ first major album was Please Please Me, released in 1963. I used to consider much of their early work to be inferior simply because it was (at the time) fairly standard rock, rather than the barrier dismantling work that they did in their later years. Thankfully I’ve seen the error of my ways, for their early work, while not unconventional, is nonetheless excellent rock and roll, and still has all the Beatles charm that one finds in their later work. The album’s first track, "I Saw Her Standing There", is classic Beatles—up-tempo, cheerful, and about the ladies. Other great tracks, like "Love Me Do" and the title track will surely ring bells with most people. But songs such as "Misery" and "Chains" may be new to the casual fan. And c’mon, without this album’s last track (among my all-time favorites) we wouldn’t have one of my favorite moments in movie history, the fabled Ferris Bueller parade scene.
1963 also saw the release of their second album, With The Beatles. I must admit that I find this to be a weaker album than their first. Of the original songs that they composed for the album, "All My Loving" is easily the best, followed by "Hold Me Tight" and "Don’t Bother Me". But other than “All My Loving” I think the strongest tracks on the album are the covers of Chuck Berry's "Roll Over Beethoven" (which features some great guitar playing by George), and The Marvelette's "Please Mister Postman".
Two albums were released in 1964 as well. The first was A Hard Day’s Night, the soundtrack to their first movie, and the first Beatles album comprised entirely of original material. The album’s title track and "Can’t Buy Me Love" are among The Beatles’ best early work (“Can’t Buy Me Love” being one of my favorite Beatles songs). The rest of the album is solid as well. Even the songs that don’t regularly make it onto my playlists compel me to break into song when I listen to them (to the utter dismay of those around me). Among my favorite tracks on the album are "I Should Have Known Better", "Tell Me Why", and "Any Time At All". Great songs all.
The second album released in ’64 was Beatles For Sale, and (I’m sensing a pattern here) I feel it is weaker when compared to A Hard Day’s Night. But we’re talking about The Beatles here, so “weaker” is a relative term. The album contains another of my favorites, "Eight Days a Week" (I seem to have a lot of favorites, don’t I?). As with most of their early albums, there are a number of cover songs included, such as the Carl Perkins song "Honey Don’t", and another Chuck Berry cover, "Rock & Roll Music", featuring a great example of John’s vocal chops. Other than “Eight Days a Week,” my favorite original works on the album are "What You’re Doing" and "No Reply", which I’m especially fond of (especially the bit from about 1:03 to 1:32).
Another year, another movie. Their second movie, Help!, was released in 1965, and the soundtrack is once again solid as a rock. There are only two cover songs on this album, with the best easily being Ringo’s rendition of "Act Naturally". Love that song (and Ringo’s gotta get the spotlight every now and then!). But I’ve gotta tell ya, this album kicks some serious ass. The title track is one of their greatest songs, certainly among their early work. I can’t begin to describe the über-awesomeness of the song. But it doesn’t stop there! With tracks like "You’re Going to Lose That Girl", "Ticket To Ride" (with a wonderfully silly video; lo siento para los subtitulados en español), "It’s Only Love", and one of Paul’s most famous and beloved songs, "Yesterday", this is surely their best album thus far.
The Beatles’ sixth album, Rubber Soul, is where they started off into territory heretofore unknown to rock bands. Remember that roommate I had back in college (mentioned in the last installment of Musicopia)? Well, this is his favorite Beatles album (or it was back then), and understandably so. This album, also released in ‘65, represents a sea change in the work of The Beatles, both musically ("Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)" features George’s first use of the sitar in a recording, and "In My Life" features a piano solo that sounds very much like a harpsichord) and lyrically (as John’s philosophical and self-deprecating lyrics in "Nowhere Man" demonstrate). This album is so good I want to post every song, but through a superhuman demonstration of willpower I’m going to mention only three more songs: "You Won’t See Me" (because I like Paul’s voice and the ooooo la-la-la’s), "Girl" (a favorite which I’m embarrassed to say had escaped my notice until I watched Across the Universe), and "I’m Looking Through You" (just because).
If Rubber Soul was the beginning of their trip into the wild musical unknown, then Revolver sees them setting up shop there with the intent of staying for the long haul. While consistently overplayed, "Yellow Submarine" is probably the most sonically complex Beatles song yet (with the possible exception of "Tomorrow Never Knows"), with a wealth of sound effects and vocal silliness that sets it apart from the rest of their work thus far. "Love You To" is classic George, prominently featuring the sitar and other Indian instruments. Their sound continues to fill out on this album (released in 1966), with brass instruments prominently featured on "Got To Get You Into My Life", and some great piano playing by George Martin (“the fifth Beatle”) on "Good Day Sunshine". The album also contains the most depressing song in the universe, "Eleanor Rigby", so there’s that. But seriously, this is probably in my top three favorite Beatles albums, and I left a bumload of good songs out, so go get it. Get it now!
The Beatles’ next album, 1967’s Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, is where it all began for me. I was visiting my mom at work and one of her co-workers had the album on cassette. I can’t remember whether he was listening to it and I asked to borrow it, or if the guy just knew it would blow my mind and offered it to me, but blow my young teenage mind it did. I’d heard "Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds" before, of course, but the album in its entirety was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. I listened to it. Again. And again. And again. Thus began my Beatlemania.
Paring the album down to a handful of songs is like asking me to club a truckload of doe-eyed baby seals, but do it I must. The title track must get mention due to both its greatness and the way in which it sets the tone for the rest of the album. I must also mention "Fixing a Hole" because I overlooked its greatness for too long, and because I love the harpsichord. "Being For the Benefit of Mr. Kite!" also deserves mention simply for its sheer zany awesomeness. In my book, any song mentioning a waltzing horse is a good one. "When I’m Sixty-Four" is one of my favorites on the album. It’s sweetly sentimental, and I love the clarinets. As odd as it may sound, "Lovely Rita" may be my favorite song on the album. This is Paul at his whimsical best. I love the fact that he asks Rita out, then lets her pay the tab for dinner. For some reason that just cracks me up.
As with Revolver, there are so many great songs on this album that I was unable to mention them all. I urge you to get the album. I don’t care what you do in order to procure a copy. Rape. Pillage. Plunder. Do whatever it takes (ok, maybe not rape); just get this album! If you don’t enjoy it, then I’m sorry, I’m going to find you and jam an ice pick in your ears. Not enough to kill you, mind you; just enough to irrevocably deafen you. If you don’t like the album then aural pleasure is obviously beyond you and your ears are wasted on you anyway.
That's all for now, cats and kittens. Part 2 will be out as soon as I manage to finish it, which might be as late as next week, since I tend to get distracted and listen to some of the songs multiple times, thus ensuring that this takes much longer than it needs to. But The Beatles are worth the wait.
People often say that you’re a Beatles person or an Elvis person, or, perhaps, a Rolling Stones lover. With all due respect to Elvis and the Stones, there is absolutely no twentieth century musical group or individual more important or influential than The Beatles. Pick a music artist these days and I guarantee that one of their influences is The Beatles (and if they aren’t, then someone directly influenced by them is).
Whether you enjoy their music or not, there is no denying their influence on music in the Western world and beyond, and I dare you to find another group or artist who evolved as drastically as they did over their seven years of recording. They began as a pop-rock group who essentially conformed to the conventions of their predecessors, but before long they were blazing their own trail, experimenting with feedback, sound effects, and unconventional instruments such as the sitar. And, amazingly, their experimentation and growth did nothing to hinder their popularity. If anything, it enhanced it, setting them apart from the wealth of exceptional acts that surfaced in what I consider to be music’s Golden Age, the 60s.
This is why I can’t just stick The Beatles in with the rest of the B’s. My love of their music requires that I give them special attention, for they deserve to be elevated above all. And so I give you a Musicopia special edition: Beatlemania. In Beatlemania I will explore each of the albums within The Beatles canon, consisting of their twelve UK albums, the US version of Magical Mystery Tour, and the Past Masters albums, as well as a smattering of tracks from the Anthology series and the (relatively) newly released Love, which was created for the Cirque du Soleil show of the same name. If you’re a Beatles fan already, then you surely won’t mind being reminded of why you love them. If you’re unfamiliar with their work, then I urge you to take this opportunity to explore it. I doubt you’ll be disappointed.
P.S. Damn you, Yoko!!!!
The Beatles’ first major album was Please Please Me, released in 1963. I used to consider much of their early work to be inferior simply because it was (at the time) fairly standard rock, rather than the barrier dismantling work that they did in their later years. Thankfully I’ve seen the error of my ways, for their early work, while not unconventional, is nonetheless excellent rock and roll, and still has all the Beatles charm that one finds in their later work. The album’s first track, "I Saw Her Standing There", is classic Beatles—up-tempo, cheerful, and about the ladies. Other great tracks, like "Love Me Do" and the title track will surely ring bells with most people. But songs such as "Misery" and "Chains" may be new to the casual fan. And c’mon, without this album’s last track (among my all-time favorites) we wouldn’t have one of my favorite moments in movie history, the fabled Ferris Bueller parade scene.
1963 also saw the release of their second album, With The Beatles. I must admit that I find this to be a weaker album than their first. Of the original songs that they composed for the album, "All My Loving" is easily the best, followed by "Hold Me Tight" and "Don’t Bother Me". But other than “All My Loving” I think the strongest tracks on the album are the covers of Chuck Berry's "Roll Over Beethoven" (which features some great guitar playing by George), and The Marvelette's "Please Mister Postman".
Two albums were released in 1964 as well. The first was A Hard Day’s Night, the soundtrack to their first movie, and the first Beatles album comprised entirely of original material. The album’s title track and "Can’t Buy Me Love" are among The Beatles’ best early work (“Can’t Buy Me Love” being one of my favorite Beatles songs). The rest of the album is solid as well. Even the songs that don’t regularly make it onto my playlists compel me to break into song when I listen to them (to the utter dismay of those around me). Among my favorite tracks on the album are "I Should Have Known Better", "Tell Me Why", and "Any Time At All". Great songs all.
The second album released in ’64 was Beatles For Sale, and (I’m sensing a pattern here) I feel it is weaker when compared to A Hard Day’s Night. But we’re talking about The Beatles here, so “weaker” is a relative term. The album contains another of my favorites, "Eight Days a Week" (I seem to have a lot of favorites, don’t I?). As with most of their early albums, there are a number of cover songs included, such as the Carl Perkins song "Honey Don’t", and another Chuck Berry cover, "Rock & Roll Music", featuring a great example of John’s vocal chops. Other than “Eight Days a Week,” my favorite original works on the album are "What You’re Doing" and "No Reply", which I’m especially fond of (especially the bit from about 1:03 to 1:32).
Another year, another movie. Their second movie, Help!, was released in 1965, and the soundtrack is once again solid as a rock. There are only two cover songs on this album, with the best easily being Ringo’s rendition of "Act Naturally". Love that song (and Ringo’s gotta get the spotlight every now and then!). But I’ve gotta tell ya, this album kicks some serious ass. The title track is one of their greatest songs, certainly among their early work. I can’t begin to describe the über-awesomeness of the song. But it doesn’t stop there! With tracks like "You’re Going to Lose That Girl", "Ticket To Ride" (with a wonderfully silly video; lo siento para los subtitulados en español), "It’s Only Love", and one of Paul’s most famous and beloved songs, "Yesterday", this is surely their best album thus far.
The Beatles’ sixth album, Rubber Soul, is where they started off into territory heretofore unknown to rock bands. Remember that roommate I had back in college (mentioned in the last installment of Musicopia)? Well, this is his favorite Beatles album (or it was back then), and understandably so. This album, also released in ‘65, represents a sea change in the work of The Beatles, both musically ("Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)" features George’s first use of the sitar in a recording, and "In My Life" features a piano solo that sounds very much like a harpsichord) and lyrically (as John’s philosophical and self-deprecating lyrics in "Nowhere Man" demonstrate). This album is so good I want to post every song, but through a superhuman demonstration of willpower I’m going to mention only three more songs: "You Won’t See Me" (because I like Paul’s voice and the ooooo la-la-la’s), "Girl" (a favorite which I’m embarrassed to say had escaped my notice until I watched Across the Universe), and "I’m Looking Through You" (just because).
If Rubber Soul was the beginning of their trip into the wild musical unknown, then Revolver sees them setting up shop there with the intent of staying for the long haul. While consistently overplayed, "Yellow Submarine" is probably the most sonically complex Beatles song yet (with the possible exception of "Tomorrow Never Knows"), with a wealth of sound effects and vocal silliness that sets it apart from the rest of their work thus far. "Love You To" is classic George, prominently featuring the sitar and other Indian instruments. Their sound continues to fill out on this album (released in 1966), with brass instruments prominently featured on "Got To Get You Into My Life", and some great piano playing by George Martin (“the fifth Beatle”) on "Good Day Sunshine". The album also contains the most depressing song in the universe, "Eleanor Rigby", so there’s that. But seriously, this is probably in my top three favorite Beatles albums, and I left a bumload of good songs out, so go get it. Get it now!
The Beatles’ next album, 1967’s Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, is where it all began for me. I was visiting my mom at work and one of her co-workers had the album on cassette. I can’t remember whether he was listening to it and I asked to borrow it, or if the guy just knew it would blow my mind and offered it to me, but blow my young teenage mind it did. I’d heard "Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds" before, of course, but the album in its entirety was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. I listened to it. Again. And again. And again. Thus began my Beatlemania.
Paring the album down to a handful of songs is like asking me to club a truckload of doe-eyed baby seals, but do it I must. The title track must get mention due to both its greatness and the way in which it sets the tone for the rest of the album. I must also mention "Fixing a Hole" because I overlooked its greatness for too long, and because I love the harpsichord. "Being For the Benefit of Mr. Kite!" also deserves mention simply for its sheer zany awesomeness. In my book, any song mentioning a waltzing horse is a good one. "When I’m Sixty-Four" is one of my favorites on the album. It’s sweetly sentimental, and I love the clarinets. As odd as it may sound, "Lovely Rita" may be my favorite song on the album. This is Paul at his whimsical best. I love the fact that he asks Rita out, then lets her pay the tab for dinner. For some reason that just cracks me up.
As with Revolver, there are so many great songs on this album that I was unable to mention them all. I urge you to get the album. I don’t care what you do in order to procure a copy. Rape. Pillage. Plunder. Do whatever it takes (ok, maybe not rape); just get this album! If you don’t enjoy it, then I’m sorry, I’m going to find you and jam an ice pick in your ears. Not enough to kill you, mind you; just enough to irrevocably deafen you. If you don’t like the album then aural pleasure is obviously beyond you and your ears are wasted on you anyway.
That's all for now, cats and kittens. Part 2 will be out as soon as I manage to finish it, which might be as late as next week, since I tend to get distracted and listen to some of the songs multiple times, thus ensuring that this takes much longer than it needs to. But The Beatles are worth the wait.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Musicopia: The A's, Part 2
The Allman Brothers Band is one of those bands I’ve been meaning to get to know better but haven’t managed to get around to yet. Nonetheless, you can’t go wrong with "Ramblin’ Man".
The first Amy Winehouse song I ever heard was, of course, "Rehab", and I nearly fell off my seat. I’ve been saying for years that if we’re going to retread musical styles of the past, then Motown is long overdue for a revival. And here was proof that I was not mistaken. After devouring her Back To Black album, I came to two conclusions: this was an excellent album, and this chick’s got issues.
But the fact that Amy’s nuttier than squirrel poop is irrelevant. She’s got a great voice and she’s not afraid to be honest (as he first album’s title, Frank, implies). Mix in great production that borrows from some of the best eras of music (Back To Black, as I noted, has a definite Motown vibe, while Frank leans more towards jazz), and you’ve got yourself some excellent music. Here’s hoping her stint in rehab hasn’t affected her ability to flip her contemporaries the bird and do her own thing.
Finding favorites is hard, since both her albums are solid. But I can’t list everything, so I’ll do my best to be selective. "Me & Mr. Jones" is definitely in my top five, due to both the wink and nod towards Billy Paul’s “Me & Mrs. Jones,” as well as the constant use of the word “fuckery.” I just dig that word. Don’t believe me about the Motown thing? Listen to "Tears Dry On Their Own". You can’t tell me that doesn’t sound like a Marvin Gaye song! "Stronger Than Me" is a great song off the Frank album (all the others so far have been off of Back To Black). It’s a funny little song, and it seems that, despite the attitude, Amy likes to adhere pretty strictly to gender stereotypes (if her “Are you gay?” quip is any indication). And if we’re talking about her amusing knack for honesty, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention "Fuck Me Pumps", an ode to all those skanky chicks you see at the bar. I think I’ll stop there before I get carried away, but there are plenty more that I haven’t mentioned, so check out both of her albums. This is quality music, my friends.
If you’re not from the Bay Area then you’ve probably never heard of the rapper Andre Nickatina. He’s hit and miss, as far as I’m concerned, but you gotta love a guy who samples Tchaikovsky. Check out "All Star Chuck Taylors" and see what I mean.
A little research has taught me two things: "The House of the Rising Sun" was a traditional folk song before The Animals got to it, and their rendition of the tune is, arguably, the first folk rock song ever. When I think “folk rock” this song definitely does not come to mind, especially after watching the video and seeing that lead singer Eric Burdon looks like Damien from The Omen all grown up (I’d always pictured him with wild shoulder-length hair and looking a little like Jim Morrison, not standing stoically in a suit like a Beatles reject). Regardless, it’s a classic tune and worth mentioning.
Anyone who was born anywhere between the late 70s and early 90s probably knows the show Animaniacs. It was bizarre, hilarious, and, at times, educational. "Yakko’s World" (as it’s called on The Animaniacs’ Wacky Universe album), is one of those educational moments. I’m still not sure what I find more impressive: the fact that they managed to name (almost) all of the countries in the world (at the time) in the song, or that it’s a damn entertaining song. I miss that show.
People mock the hell out of disco, but I love it. It’s fun, upbeat, and makes you wanna wiggle your ass. What’s wrong with that? Nothing, as far as I’m concerned, and Anita Ward’s "Ring My Bell" is a great booty shakin’ song if ever I heard one.
Annie Lennox is another artist I need to get to know better. She was great with the Eurythmics, of course, and her voice is still exceptional. And her video for "Walking On Broken Glass" gets extra awesome points for starring John Malkovich and Hugh Laurie (looking quite a bit like the moronic prince he played in Blackadder the Third).
I first saw Anthony Hamilton performing "Comin’ From Where I’m From" on Chappelle’s Show, and I was immediately hooked. His album of the same name is solid, containing great tracks like "Charlene" and "Cornbread, Fish & Collard Greens". His next album, Soulife, didn’t live up to my expectations, but I still thoroughly enjoy the tracks “Ball & Chain” (which I couldn’t find, but these guys do a pretty good cover of), and “Ol’ Keeper,” which I couldn’t find at all. Bottom line: if you like soul then you’ll like Hamilton. He’s got a great voice and is one of the few artists these days keeping soul music alive.
When I went away to college I shared a dorm room with some dude who kept his noggin in headphones all the time, editing some self-shot movie called Sprinkle Me. Once he got done editing the flick (months later) and took his head out of the headphones we became fast friends, bonding over our music collections (ok, at that point my collection was minimal, so it was pretty much his collection we bonded over). "Tighten Up" was one of the songs he had that dropped my jaw and fueled a fire in me. This is funky stuff, boys and girls. Too bad an insurance company defiled it by using a bastardized version in their commercials. Screw you, corporate America. Screw you.
The 60s were weird, man. How else do you explain a bunch of forgettable cartoon squares like The Archies having a chart-topping hit? Regardless of the epic lameness of Archie and company, "Sugar, Sugar" is still a fun song. But if I want weird cartoons made by guys on drugs, I’ll take Scooby-Doo. Scooby dooby Doo!
No collection is complete without representation by the Queen of Soul, Aretha Franklin. Everyone knows the song “Respect,” of course, but if that covers the extent of your Aretha knowledge then you, my friend, are missing out. It started for me with a mission from God. Jake and Elwood’s, to be exact.
The Blues Brothers soundtrack is exceptionally good, and Aretha’s track, "Think" is one of the best songs on the album (along with Ray Charles’ “Shake a Tail Feather” and Cab Calloway’s “Minnie the Moocher”—but I’ll get to them later). Then there’s the incomparable "Chain of Fools". If I had to pick a favorite Aretha album it would have to be I Never Loved a Man the Way I Love You. Containing the aforementioned “Respect,” the title track, "Do Right Woman, Do Right Man", and my favorite Aretha song, "Baby, Baby, Baby",and more, this might as well be a greatest hits album.
Anyone who remembers the group Arrested Development knows they were a unique bunch. As I recall, there were about 452 people in the group, all wearing daishikis, head wraps, and other traditional African garments. I can’t say much for their sense of fashion, but the Metamorphosis Remix of "People Everyday" will always be a favorite of mine (borrowing from Sly and the Family Stone certainly didn’t hurt).
I thought Rage Against the Machine was toast when Zack de la Rocha left, but replacing him with Soundgarden’s Chris Cornell was a stroke of luck. Ditching the name Rage Against the Machine for Audioslave was also a savvy move, since Rage ain’t Rage without Zack. I haven’t paid too much attention to Audioslave, to be honest, but "Show Me How To Live" is a rockin’ song that perfectly highlights Cornell’s vocals, and any video with a Challenger in it is worth watching. That is one mean looking car!
I’ve decided that, based on the intricately layered samples comprising their music, the Avalanches must be a group of hardcore obsessive compulsives. Or they’re just very patient and detail-oriented. And, if the "Frontier Psychiatrist" video is any indication, batshit crazy. But in a good way.
And that’s the A’s, ladies and gents! Guess I could have been more selective, but what the hell. I told ya I love music. The B’s are on their way, but I can’t say when. This takes longer than I thought it would!
The first Amy Winehouse song I ever heard was, of course, "Rehab", and I nearly fell off my seat. I’ve been saying for years that if we’re going to retread musical styles of the past, then Motown is long overdue for a revival. And here was proof that I was not mistaken. After devouring her Back To Black album, I came to two conclusions: this was an excellent album, and this chick’s got issues.
But the fact that Amy’s nuttier than squirrel poop is irrelevant. She’s got a great voice and she’s not afraid to be honest (as he first album’s title, Frank, implies). Mix in great production that borrows from some of the best eras of music (Back To Black, as I noted, has a definite Motown vibe, while Frank leans more towards jazz), and you’ve got yourself some excellent music. Here’s hoping her stint in rehab hasn’t affected her ability to flip her contemporaries the bird and do her own thing.
Finding favorites is hard, since both her albums are solid. But I can’t list everything, so I’ll do my best to be selective. "Me & Mr. Jones" is definitely in my top five, due to both the wink and nod towards Billy Paul’s “Me & Mrs. Jones,” as well as the constant use of the word “fuckery.” I just dig that word. Don’t believe me about the Motown thing? Listen to "Tears Dry On Their Own". You can’t tell me that doesn’t sound like a Marvin Gaye song! "Stronger Than Me" is a great song off the Frank album (all the others so far have been off of Back To Black). It’s a funny little song, and it seems that, despite the attitude, Amy likes to adhere pretty strictly to gender stereotypes (if her “Are you gay?” quip is any indication). And if we’re talking about her amusing knack for honesty, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention "Fuck Me Pumps", an ode to all those skanky chicks you see at the bar. I think I’ll stop there before I get carried away, but there are plenty more that I haven’t mentioned, so check out both of her albums. This is quality music, my friends.
If you’re not from the Bay Area then you’ve probably never heard of the rapper Andre Nickatina. He’s hit and miss, as far as I’m concerned, but you gotta love a guy who samples Tchaikovsky. Check out "All Star Chuck Taylors" and see what I mean.
A little research has taught me two things: "The House of the Rising Sun" was a traditional folk song before The Animals got to it, and their rendition of the tune is, arguably, the first folk rock song ever. When I think “folk rock” this song definitely does not come to mind, especially after watching the video and seeing that lead singer Eric Burdon looks like Damien from The Omen all grown up (I’d always pictured him with wild shoulder-length hair and looking a little like Jim Morrison, not standing stoically in a suit like a Beatles reject). Regardless, it’s a classic tune and worth mentioning.
Anyone who was born anywhere between the late 70s and early 90s probably knows the show Animaniacs. It was bizarre, hilarious, and, at times, educational. "Yakko’s World" (as it’s called on The Animaniacs’ Wacky Universe album), is one of those educational moments. I’m still not sure what I find more impressive: the fact that they managed to name (almost) all of the countries in the world (at the time) in the song, or that it’s a damn entertaining song. I miss that show.
People mock the hell out of disco, but I love it. It’s fun, upbeat, and makes you wanna wiggle your ass. What’s wrong with that? Nothing, as far as I’m concerned, and Anita Ward’s "Ring My Bell" is a great booty shakin’ song if ever I heard one.
Annie Lennox is another artist I need to get to know better. She was great with the Eurythmics, of course, and her voice is still exceptional. And her video for "Walking On Broken Glass" gets extra awesome points for starring John Malkovich and Hugh Laurie (looking quite a bit like the moronic prince he played in Blackadder the Third).
I first saw Anthony Hamilton performing "Comin’ From Where I’m From" on Chappelle’s Show, and I was immediately hooked. His album of the same name is solid, containing great tracks like "Charlene" and "Cornbread, Fish & Collard Greens". His next album, Soulife, didn’t live up to my expectations, but I still thoroughly enjoy the tracks “Ball & Chain” (which I couldn’t find, but these guys do a pretty good cover of), and “Ol’ Keeper,” which I couldn’t find at all. Bottom line: if you like soul then you’ll like Hamilton. He’s got a great voice and is one of the few artists these days keeping soul music alive.
When I went away to college I shared a dorm room with some dude who kept his noggin in headphones all the time, editing some self-shot movie called Sprinkle Me. Once he got done editing the flick (months later) and took his head out of the headphones we became fast friends, bonding over our music collections (ok, at that point my collection was minimal, so it was pretty much his collection we bonded over). "Tighten Up" was one of the songs he had that dropped my jaw and fueled a fire in me. This is funky stuff, boys and girls. Too bad an insurance company defiled it by using a bastardized version in their commercials. Screw you, corporate America. Screw you.
The 60s were weird, man. How else do you explain a bunch of forgettable cartoon squares like The Archies having a chart-topping hit? Regardless of the epic lameness of Archie and company, "Sugar, Sugar" is still a fun song. But if I want weird cartoons made by guys on drugs, I’ll take Scooby-Doo. Scooby dooby Doo!
No collection is complete without representation by the Queen of Soul, Aretha Franklin. Everyone knows the song “Respect,” of course, but if that covers the extent of your Aretha knowledge then you, my friend, are missing out. It started for me with a mission from God. Jake and Elwood’s, to be exact.
The Blues Brothers soundtrack is exceptionally good, and Aretha’s track, "Think" is one of the best songs on the album (along with Ray Charles’ “Shake a Tail Feather” and Cab Calloway’s “Minnie the Moocher”—but I’ll get to them later). Then there’s the incomparable "Chain of Fools". If I had to pick a favorite Aretha album it would have to be I Never Loved a Man the Way I Love You. Containing the aforementioned “Respect,” the title track, "Do Right Woman, Do Right Man", and my favorite Aretha song, "Baby, Baby, Baby",and more, this might as well be a greatest hits album.
Anyone who remembers the group Arrested Development knows they were a unique bunch. As I recall, there were about 452 people in the group, all wearing daishikis, head wraps, and other traditional African garments. I can’t say much for their sense of fashion, but the Metamorphosis Remix of "People Everyday" will always be a favorite of mine (borrowing from Sly and the Family Stone certainly didn’t hurt).
I thought Rage Against the Machine was toast when Zack de la Rocha left, but replacing him with Soundgarden’s Chris Cornell was a stroke of luck. Ditching the name Rage Against the Machine for Audioslave was also a savvy move, since Rage ain’t Rage without Zack. I haven’t paid too much attention to Audioslave, to be honest, but "Show Me How To Live" is a rockin’ song that perfectly highlights Cornell’s vocals, and any video with a Challenger in it is worth watching. That is one mean looking car!
I’ve decided that, based on the intricately layered samples comprising their music, the Avalanches must be a group of hardcore obsessive compulsives. Or they’re just very patient and detail-oriented. And, if the "Frontier Psychiatrist" video is any indication, batshit crazy. But in a good way.
And that’s the A’s, ladies and gents! Guess I could have been more selective, but what the hell. I told ya I love music. The B’s are on their way, but I can’t say when. This takes longer than I thought it would!
Monday, March 29, 2010
Musicopia: A Guided Tour Through Polymathic J's Music Collection - The A's
I’ve had a bitch of a time trying to write lately. The thoughts just aren’t flowing well for me, whether I try writing fiction or non-fiction. It’s been frustrating, to say the least.
But it occurred to me that one of the maxims of writing is “write what you know.” I’ve always assumed this was meant mainly for fiction writers, but it occurs to me that there’s one subject that I know quite a bit about: music.
I may not be versed in the technical aspects of music, but I love it. I mean love it. My autobiographical memory sucks, but I can tell you that the first time I heard The Cardigans’s “Lovefool” was in high school at my friend Kate’s house and that it was featured on the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack. I can tell you that I acquired The Fugees’s album The Score in 1996 right before taking a summer trip to Europe to compete in a track and field tour (and that I listened to it incessantly on that trip). And I can remember that on the way home from what must have been a Warriors game when I was about 8, my dad blasted a little Prince to screw with us and wake us up. Some of my earliest memories are of watching MTV (y’know, back when they actually played music 99% of the time), like the time my cousin Chris was babysitting me and wanted to watch the just-premiered “Thriller” video, which scared the ever-lovin’ shit out of me.
I can’t explain it, but music imprints itself on my brain like nothing else. As such, it often fills in the gaps that I seem to find in my past. A good song reminds me of the thoughts and feelings I had when I used to listen to it, of my girlfriend at the time, of what stage of my life I was in when I first fell in love with the song. Music is dear to me in a way that nothing else is.
This is probably why I’m a glutton for it. I will never, ever have enough music. My current collection consists of approximately 13,000 songs, and covers almost every genre of music possible. I love pretty much everything, as long as it’s good (and sometimes even when it’s not), and I love to share it with others. My dream job would probably be DJing on a station that would allow me to play anything I wanted, regardless of genre or explicit lyrics, or perhaps being an executive for a record company, greenlighting great new acts. That ain’t happening, but I thought it would be fun to share my collection with you through my blog.
And so I present to you “Musicopia: A Guided Tour Through Polymathic J’s Music Collection.” Over a series of (who knows how many) blogs I’m going to share my favorite songs and bands, regardless of their cool quotient. If I love it, I’m mentioning it, and, hopefully, providing links to places where you can listen to it. It won’t be my entire collection, of course, but it will be an excellent cross-section of it.
Feel free to give me shit for the bad songs; I won’t care one bit. And feel free to suggest songs and artists that you feel I’m missing out on. Believe me when I say that I’m not a music snob. Why bother limiting myself to what other people think is good when I’ve got excellent taste in music, thank you very much? I’ll give anything a fair go, and I think the diversity of my collection reflects that.
So sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride. Here come the A’s. (Note: When I say A’s, I mean iTunes A’s, so Al Green is an A, not a G. Also, I'm breaking this in half, because the A's are exceptionally long.)
The first song on the list is the first song in my collection: a-ha’s “Take On Me”. I was born in ’79, so the first decade I remember is the 80s, and man did I love the 80s. Saturday morning cartoons, kick ass toys that were actually made out of metal rather than cheap plastic (my Optimus Prime was, anyway), and the birth and Golden Age of MTV. What a great time to be a kid.
This song is quintessential 80s, and so is the video. Back then it was a pretty high-tech achievement mixing live action with animation, so this was one of those videos that grabbed everyone’s attention and held it. And c’mon, you gotta love the use of the 80s’ favorite musical tool, the synthesizer.
The next entry is a band, not a song: AC/DC. Until recently, my AC/DC knowledge was gleaned from one album, AC/DC Live, which is essentially a greatest hits album. It’s a great album, but it’s not enough. I recently acquired the album T.N.T. and my suspicions were confirmed—I need everything they’ve ever made, ‘cause they kick some serious ass. In fact, I think they just managed to become my favorite rock band. Period.
This, my friends, is high voltage rock ‘n’ roll. Whether it’s the exceptional guitar playing of the Young brothers (especially Angus), the band turning the volume up to 11, or the in-your-face vocals of Bon Scott and, later, Brian Johnson, AC/DC is everything a rock band is supposed to be. I was going to say that the song “School Days” seems to be a modern day Chuck Berry song until a little research showed me that it actually is a Chuck Berry song. Regardless, AC/DC obviously respects their forebears, and "It’s a Long Way To the Top (If You Wanna Rock 'n' Roll)" even features some kick ass bagpiping. Yes, bagpiping. Now I’m cool with bagpipes, but you know your band is bad-freakin’-ass when you make the bagpipes rock.
Want your AC/DC fix? Here are a handful of my favorite songs: the epically awesome "T.N.T.", the hard-hitting "Thunderstruck", the classic "Back In Black" and, of course, the bane of every religious parent’s existence, "Highway To Hell". Enjoy.
"Goody Two Shoes" by Adam Ant is another 80s favorite. A little repetitive, sure, but it’s nice and upbeat and I love me some horns.
Aerosmith has had a lengthy career, and I’d like to personally thank them for featuring Alicia Silverstone and Liv Tyler in their videos smack dab in the middle of my adolescence, but I have to say that I feel that they’ve sold out in their later years. Nevertheless, "Dream On" will always be a rock classic. And you’ve got to give them credit for helping to legitimize hip-hop by teaming up with Run D.M.C. on a video that literally broke down the barriers between rock and rap.
Shame on you if you have a discussion about classic hip-hop without mentioning Afrika Bambaataa’s "Planet Rock". This was one of those watershed songs that changed the face of what hip-hop/electro/freestyle was considered to be. And you just can’t go wrong with Afrika Bambaataa and the Soulsonic Force’s Parliament-style costumes. The only thing missing is Bootsy Collins on the stage in a diaper.
Ahmad’s "Back In the Day" has been a favorite of mine since it came out in ’94. Sampling Teddy Pendergrass’s music definitely doesn’t hurt, especially when it so perfectly complements the tone of his lyrics. I was all set to call him a one-hit wonder, but I just discovered that Ahmad is back and killing it! Fittingly, his style has grown, and he is, in my opinion, a much stronger rapper than he was back in the day. Check out his new stuff!
I love me some soul music, and one of soul music’s greats is Al Green. I first got to know him through the Pulp Fiction soundtrack (Quentin Tarantino knows his music, boys and girls), specifically the scene where Butch and Marcellus have a little pre-fight discussion while "Let’s Stay Together" plays in the background. It’s been a real love affair since then, as in "Love & Happiness", and “L-O-V-E (LOVE)”, which, tragically, I can’t seem to find anywhere. And when I found out the ol’ Reverend Al had a new album out with tracks featuring Anthony Hamilton ("Lay It Down", just about the most pimpin’ song ever) and Corinne Bailey Rae ("Take Your Time") I just about had a stroke. Modern classics, if ever there were any. Too bad my girlfriend doesn’t recognize how damn sexy these songs are.
No list would be complete without mention of one of the original shock rockers, Alice Cooper. I’m not too familiar with his stuff, but "I’m Eighteen" is all kinds of good, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t committed one of the ultimate college cliché’s, turning up my speakers after the last final of my freshman year and blasting "School’s Out" out of my dorm room window.
I can’t say that Alice In Chains is high on my list of bands to listen to (I’ve only got four of their songs), but any fool can see that songs like "Would?" and "Man In the Box" are worth throwing on the ol’ iPod. “Man In the Box” rocks especially hard. I love the way Layne Stanley belts out the chorus.
I wouldn’t say I’m a huge fan of Alicia Keys, but I definitely respect her. She’s got a great voice, she writes her own music, she plays a mean piano (and a bevy of other instruments as well), she’s intelligent and she doesn’t shake her ass in order to fuel her popularity. In short, in a world full of Britney Spears’s and Fergie’s, she’s setting an excellent example for the youthful girls of America.
And she’s hot. Smokin’ hot.
But that’s beside the point. She’s a musician in an industry full of image-conscious personalities, and she should be applauded for swimming against the current. We’ve all heard "Fallin’" and "No One", of course, but these are hardly my favorites. I’m a big fan of "You Don’t Know My Name", although I could do without the spoken word interlude in the middle of the song (I hadn’t seen the video before hunting it down for this blog, and was stoked to see that Mos Def is the guy she likes. Love that guy!). "Wreckless Love" and "Teenage Love Affair" are my favorites off her As I Am album (I laughed my ass off the first time I heard the double entendre mixed into the lyrics “First base: because I feel you/Second base: want you to feel me too”). But my favorite may just be the Karmastition Remix of "Karma", a brilliant use of a Stevie Wonder sample if ever I heard one. This is one of those rare remixes that’s better than the original.
Hmmm…Maybe I am a huge fan of Alicia after all. And did I mention that she's hot?
That's all for now. Don't want to overload you. Too much. I'll get the rest of the A's out later this week.
But it occurred to me that one of the maxims of writing is “write what you know.” I’ve always assumed this was meant mainly for fiction writers, but it occurs to me that there’s one subject that I know quite a bit about: music.
I may not be versed in the technical aspects of music, but I love it. I mean love it. My autobiographical memory sucks, but I can tell you that the first time I heard The Cardigans’s “Lovefool” was in high school at my friend Kate’s house and that it was featured on the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack. I can tell you that I acquired The Fugees’s album The Score in 1996 right before taking a summer trip to Europe to compete in a track and field tour (and that I listened to it incessantly on that trip). And I can remember that on the way home from what must have been a Warriors game when I was about 8, my dad blasted a little Prince to screw with us and wake us up. Some of my earliest memories are of watching MTV (y’know, back when they actually played music 99% of the time), like the time my cousin Chris was babysitting me and wanted to watch the just-premiered “Thriller” video, which scared the ever-lovin’ shit out of me.
I can’t explain it, but music imprints itself on my brain like nothing else. As such, it often fills in the gaps that I seem to find in my past. A good song reminds me of the thoughts and feelings I had when I used to listen to it, of my girlfriend at the time, of what stage of my life I was in when I first fell in love with the song. Music is dear to me in a way that nothing else is.
This is probably why I’m a glutton for it. I will never, ever have enough music. My current collection consists of approximately 13,000 songs, and covers almost every genre of music possible. I love pretty much everything, as long as it’s good (and sometimes even when it’s not), and I love to share it with others. My dream job would probably be DJing on a station that would allow me to play anything I wanted, regardless of genre or explicit lyrics, or perhaps being an executive for a record company, greenlighting great new acts. That ain’t happening, but I thought it would be fun to share my collection with you through my blog.
And so I present to you “Musicopia: A Guided Tour Through Polymathic J’s Music Collection.” Over a series of (who knows how many) blogs I’m going to share my favorite songs and bands, regardless of their cool quotient. If I love it, I’m mentioning it, and, hopefully, providing links to places where you can listen to it. It won’t be my entire collection, of course, but it will be an excellent cross-section of it.
Feel free to give me shit for the bad songs; I won’t care one bit. And feel free to suggest songs and artists that you feel I’m missing out on. Believe me when I say that I’m not a music snob. Why bother limiting myself to what other people think is good when I’ve got excellent taste in music, thank you very much? I’ll give anything a fair go, and I think the diversity of my collection reflects that.
So sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride. Here come the A’s. (Note: When I say A’s, I mean iTunes A’s, so Al Green is an A, not a G. Also, I'm breaking this in half, because the A's are exceptionally long.)
The first song on the list is the first song in my collection: a-ha’s “Take On Me”. I was born in ’79, so the first decade I remember is the 80s, and man did I love the 80s. Saturday morning cartoons, kick ass toys that were actually made out of metal rather than cheap plastic (my Optimus Prime was, anyway), and the birth and Golden Age of MTV. What a great time to be a kid.
This song is quintessential 80s, and so is the video. Back then it was a pretty high-tech achievement mixing live action with animation, so this was one of those videos that grabbed everyone’s attention and held it. And c’mon, you gotta love the use of the 80s’ favorite musical tool, the synthesizer.
The next entry is a band, not a song: AC/DC. Until recently, my AC/DC knowledge was gleaned from one album, AC/DC Live, which is essentially a greatest hits album. It’s a great album, but it’s not enough. I recently acquired the album T.N.T. and my suspicions were confirmed—I need everything they’ve ever made, ‘cause they kick some serious ass. In fact, I think they just managed to become my favorite rock band. Period.
This, my friends, is high voltage rock ‘n’ roll. Whether it’s the exceptional guitar playing of the Young brothers (especially Angus), the band turning the volume up to 11, or the in-your-face vocals of Bon Scott and, later, Brian Johnson, AC/DC is everything a rock band is supposed to be. I was going to say that the song “School Days” seems to be a modern day Chuck Berry song until a little research showed me that it actually is a Chuck Berry song. Regardless, AC/DC obviously respects their forebears, and "It’s a Long Way To the Top (If You Wanna Rock 'n' Roll)" even features some kick ass bagpiping. Yes, bagpiping. Now I’m cool with bagpipes, but you know your band is bad-freakin’-ass when you make the bagpipes rock.
Want your AC/DC fix? Here are a handful of my favorite songs: the epically awesome "T.N.T.", the hard-hitting "Thunderstruck", the classic "Back In Black" and, of course, the bane of every religious parent’s existence, "Highway To Hell". Enjoy.
"Goody Two Shoes" by Adam Ant is another 80s favorite. A little repetitive, sure, but it’s nice and upbeat and I love me some horns.
Aerosmith has had a lengthy career, and I’d like to personally thank them for featuring Alicia Silverstone and Liv Tyler in their videos smack dab in the middle of my adolescence, but I have to say that I feel that they’ve sold out in their later years. Nevertheless, "Dream On" will always be a rock classic. And you’ve got to give them credit for helping to legitimize hip-hop by teaming up with Run D.M.C. on a video that literally broke down the barriers between rock and rap.
Shame on you if you have a discussion about classic hip-hop without mentioning Afrika Bambaataa’s "Planet Rock". This was one of those watershed songs that changed the face of what hip-hop/electro/freestyle was considered to be. And you just can’t go wrong with Afrika Bambaataa and the Soulsonic Force’s Parliament-style costumes. The only thing missing is Bootsy Collins on the stage in a diaper.
Ahmad’s "Back In the Day" has been a favorite of mine since it came out in ’94. Sampling Teddy Pendergrass’s music definitely doesn’t hurt, especially when it so perfectly complements the tone of his lyrics. I was all set to call him a one-hit wonder, but I just discovered that Ahmad is back and killing it! Fittingly, his style has grown, and he is, in my opinion, a much stronger rapper than he was back in the day. Check out his new stuff!
I love me some soul music, and one of soul music’s greats is Al Green. I first got to know him through the Pulp Fiction soundtrack (Quentin Tarantino knows his music, boys and girls), specifically the scene where Butch and Marcellus have a little pre-fight discussion while "Let’s Stay Together" plays in the background. It’s been a real love affair since then, as in "Love & Happiness", and “L-O-V-E (LOVE)”, which, tragically, I can’t seem to find anywhere. And when I found out the ol’ Reverend Al had a new album out with tracks featuring Anthony Hamilton ("Lay It Down", just about the most pimpin’ song ever) and Corinne Bailey Rae ("Take Your Time") I just about had a stroke. Modern classics, if ever there were any. Too bad my girlfriend doesn’t recognize how damn sexy these songs are.
No list would be complete without mention of one of the original shock rockers, Alice Cooper. I’m not too familiar with his stuff, but "I’m Eighteen" is all kinds of good, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t committed one of the ultimate college cliché’s, turning up my speakers after the last final of my freshman year and blasting "School’s Out" out of my dorm room window.
I can’t say that Alice In Chains is high on my list of bands to listen to (I’ve only got four of their songs), but any fool can see that songs like "Would?" and "Man In the Box" are worth throwing on the ol’ iPod. “Man In the Box” rocks especially hard. I love the way Layne Stanley belts out the chorus.
I wouldn’t say I’m a huge fan of Alicia Keys, but I definitely respect her. She’s got a great voice, she writes her own music, she plays a mean piano (and a bevy of other instruments as well), she’s intelligent and she doesn’t shake her ass in order to fuel her popularity. In short, in a world full of Britney Spears’s and Fergie’s, she’s setting an excellent example for the youthful girls of America.
And she’s hot. Smokin’ hot.
But that’s beside the point. She’s a musician in an industry full of image-conscious personalities, and she should be applauded for swimming against the current. We’ve all heard "Fallin’" and "No One", of course, but these are hardly my favorites. I’m a big fan of "You Don’t Know My Name", although I could do without the spoken word interlude in the middle of the song (I hadn’t seen the video before hunting it down for this blog, and was stoked to see that Mos Def is the guy she likes. Love that guy!). "Wreckless Love" and "Teenage Love Affair" are my favorites off her As I Am album (I laughed my ass off the first time I heard the double entendre mixed into the lyrics “First base: because I feel you/Second base: want you to feel me too”). But my favorite may just be the Karmastition Remix of "Karma", a brilliant use of a Stevie Wonder sample if ever I heard one. This is one of those rare remixes that’s better than the original.
Hmmm…Maybe I am a huge fan of Alicia after all. And did I mention that she's hot?
That's all for now. Don't want to overload you. Too much. I'll get the rest of the A's out later this week.
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