Boom, Thwack, Boom

Update your browsers.

2008-03-04T15:53:00.000-08:00

http://dunford.tumblr.com

Anything else would be uncivilized.

I'll be posting here occasionally, but Tumblr posting is easier. Flat out. Is this about me being lazy? You bet it is.

My Brother's Meme Challenge

2008-02-26T17:27:00.000-08:00

Hey there! I hope you've been following my web misadventures at my Tumblr site (it's the awesomeness).

My older brother tagged me with a meme, so I thought I'd say to myself, "have at it, hoss" and so I'm giving this a whirl.

This particular meme involves historical figures. The rules are simple:
1) Link to the person who tagged you.
2) List 7 random/weird things about your favorite historical figure.
3) Tag seven more people at the end of your blog and link to theirs.
4) Let the person know they have been tagged by leaving a note on their blog.

1) My brother Mike tagged me. He assumed that I would pick someone not from the realm of science. He thought right.

I have chosen silent film actor Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle (1887-1933). Not my favorite historical figure ever, but someone fascinating, definitely.

7 facts about Fatty Arbuckle:

1. Fatty Arbuckle received the first million-dollar contract from a movie studio. In 1918!
2. Charlie Chaplin created the famous "tramp" character after borrowing some of Arbuckle's clothes, which were baggy on him.
3. Fatty Arbuckle gave Buster Keaton his start in films, as well, launching another legendary career.
4. Despite the hoopla around his trial for allegedly killing a woman via a rape, Arbuckle was never found guilty.
5. In fact, history has shown that newspaperman William Randolph Hearst intentionally set out to convict Arbuckle in the press.
6. Another comedian who received his start through Arbuckle? Bob Hope.
7. Arbuckle died of a heart attack the day he signed a contract to return to making feature films under his own name.

Okay. Tagging whoever reads this to give it a shot.

Boston Vs. New York, again.

2008-01-20T20:39:00.000-08:00

NOTABLE BOSTON SPORTS FANS:
Adolph Hitler (red was chosen for Nazi armbands in tribute to Ted Williams)
Osama Bin Laden (9/11 attacks provoked by 1991 autograph snub by Larry Bird, fuck you Larry Bird)
Dane Cook (likes Boston teams because they're trendy)
Rev. Jim Jones (had a tryout with the Bruins)
Dick Cheney (admires Bill Belichick's tactics, sportsmanship)
Pol Pot (favorite article of clothing: Bobby Orr jersey)
Idi Amin (huge BC fan, apparently - who knew?)
Joseph Stalin (again with the color red - coincidence?)
Heinrich Himmler (nicknamed penis "The Green Monster")

NOTABLE NEW YORK SPORTS FANS:
Pope John Paul II (cried when Rangers won Stanley Cup in 94)
Mother Teresa (secret crush on ex-Yankee outfielder Mel Hall in 80s)
Dalai Lama (loves Knicks despite Isaiah Thomas, prays for firing daily)
Princess Diana (Prince Harry conceived after Game 6 of 86 World Series)
Martin Luther King, Jr. (Elston Howard was a close confidante)
John Lennon (season ticket holder, NY Cosmos soccer)
Mahatma Gandhi (family friend of the Mara family)
Jonas Salk (schoolmate of Lou Gehrig's at Columbia)

Choose a side, America.

January Playlist - and a quick update.

2008-01-16T17:53:00.000-08:00

So, January's been a busy-busy month! My new job's been keeping me busy - quite busy, really. I've been grading papers for the last two hours, after a day of administering state tests...craziness. But this is not a sob story. I love it. I really do.

Here are some songs that I've been digging lately.

1. "When I Dream Of Michaelangelo," Counting Crows. One of Adam Duritz's greatest traits as a songwriter is his seemingly innate ability to be self-referential. "When I Dream Of Michaelangelo," from the upcoming album Saturday Nights and Sunday mornings, swipes a phrase - and a bit of arrangement - from the Crows' earlier "Angels Of The Silences." A quiet, meditative tune with strummed acoustic guitar, piano, and banjo. I like it a great deal.

2. "See The World," Gomez. I was an early adopter of Gomez - in the mid-1990s, when I was reviewing music for my school paper, Virgin Records sent me their first album, and I adored it. This is a more recent tune, catchy and jangly and all kinds of wonderful.

3. "Two Daughters And A Beautiful Wife," Drive-By Truckers. From the upcoming Brighter Than Creation's Dark, this is another catchy, jangly, banjo-driven tune with phenomenal harmonies. Huh. Leave it to me to, once I move back to the rap-music capital of the world, lean heavily on acoustic, quasi-country music.

4. "Happy," Martin Sexton. Martin Sexton always makes me think of my favorite time, the mid-winter at LeMoyne College in the mid-90s. Then, Sexton used to come by yearly and play a small venue there. The man has a remarkable voice. Check out this tune after a couple of beers and some conversation with good friends. It is worthwhile.

5. "Love Letter," Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. I'm in an optimistic mood about love again. It comes and goes, I suppose, so I'm going to savor this optimism while it's here. Cave's achingly beautiful voice says it all: "love letter, love letter, go get her, go get her." It doesn't look like much in print, but dig it in stereo.

In other news, I've started a lazier, link-heavy blog at http://dunford.tumblr.com - check that out.

Election Time Is Upon Us Once Again.

2008-01-02T18:19:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow, the election season officially kicks off with the Iowa caucus. While we're not going to endorse voting for one candidate or another - that's really not our thing - we would like to remind you, dear readers, of one thing.

The people have the power to redeem the work of fools.

Get out there and vote, please.

Meandering Thoughts: 5 Song Lyrics That Shall Double As My New Years Resolutions

2007-12-31T13:05:00.000-08:00

"If I could tell your future, I say 'love the world you find'
in the dark times and the hard questions
let some sunshine in your mind."
- The Flaming Lips, "Love The World You Find"

"Don't let hurricanes hold you back
Raging rivers or shark attacks
Find love, then give it all away."
- Clem Snide, "Find Love"

"The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time."
- James Taylor, "The Secret O'Life"

"Don't let me into this year with an empty heart."
- Josh Ritter, "Empty Hearts"

"I will try to understand
Everything has its plan
Either way, I'm gonna stay."
- Wilco, "Either Way"

In summation: I would like to enjoy the world (as it is, right now) more, to find enough love that I can reciprocate and then some, enjoy the passage of time, allow myself to keep an open heart right now, and not be consumed by the things that I cannot control. Not too shabby, song lyrics! (I would also like to lose some weight.)

Happy new year, dear readers!

Year In Retrospective Part Two: Ten Other Awesome Things

2007-12-21T18:14:00.000-08:00

For someone like myself, who prides himself on his voracious consumption of pop culture, I had a bit of an off-year. I didn't see too many movies, I'm not really big into the whole "buying CDs thing," and I didn't watch a whole lot of television, really. So, what I'm going to do for my second Year In Retrospective post is to talk about 10 random pop-culture things that fascinated me this calendar year. Some TV, some movies, some odds and ends. It's kind of a potpourri post.

1. Season Three of "It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia." This was the year I discovered the funniest show on television. The cast of Charlie Day, Rob McElhenny, Glenn Howerton, Kaitlin Olson, and Danny DeVito may be the best comedic ensemble right now. Most of my highlights from this season involve the aforementioned Mr. Day as "Charlie," whose antics included (but were not limited to) dressing up as Serpico while taping a huge recording device to his chest, huffing spray paint while writing homoerotic glam-rock songs, and becoming a fake-lawyer utilizing a clip-on tie and jargon lifted directly from marathons of "Law and Order." Trust me, it's awesome. My favorite television of the year.

2. Judd Apatow. "Knocked Up" and "Superbad" were both hilariously funny movies. It's hard to believe that, just a few years ago, Apatow was known largely for writing and producing wonderful television that nobody watched ("Freaks and Geeks" and "Undeclared"). Now, he's the acknowledged god of comedy as both director and producer - and, more importantly, his movies are pretty awesome.

3. The Perez Hilton backlash. Last year's guilty pleasure - perezhilton.com - has become this year's whipping boy, thanks largely to the aforementioned Mr. Hilton, who went from being a snarky underground blogger to an overexposed multimedia annoyance. This time next year, he'll be lucky to be on Celebrity Fit Club. This year, he's the answer to the question "What if Bruce Vilanch was a worse dresser and actually less funnier?"

4. The Onion AV Club - the best regularly-updated pop-culture site out there right now (avclub.com). Unlike most media outlets, the Onion serves up large, intellectual interviews and features in this section of their site, and maintains a certain wit and flair while doing so.

5. The "I'm Not There" Soundtrack, which is the perfect tribute album to Bob Dylan, authored in the name of soundtracking a movie about Bob Dylan which never once mentions the name Bob Dylan.

6. Independent radio. 90.7 FM in New York City. 97.7 in Amsterdam. 102.7 in Vermont. It's a beautiful world when you have the ability to listen to Belle and Sebastian and the Clash on your way into work. In an era of increasing media consolidation, these bastions of independent thought are absolutely to be cherished and patronized.

7. The cast of "Arrested Development" are, in lieu of continuing to create the most excellent show on television, making magic at the movies. Jason Bateman and Michael Cera reteam in the critically-acclaimed "Juno," Will Arnett made the funny in "Blades of Glory," and Cera struck comedy gold in "Superbad." Even the atrocious "Alvin and the Chipmunks" movie was redeemed (somewhat) by David Cross, who chose to chew up scenery as a hilariously slimy music mogul. (and yes, I saw it. God have mercy on my soul.)

8. "Werewolf Bar Mitzvah," by the "30 Rock" character Tracy Jordan. "Boys becoming men, men becoming wolves." Actually, pretty much anything on "30 Rock" this year was awesome. Except for the shameless "Bee Movie" pandering of Jerry Seinfeld.

9. The continued emergence of Steve Carell, who, if he continues to make the right choices, will be the next Tom Hanks. Mark ye my words.

10. Finally, as someone who abhors pre-packaged pop music, watching the freefall into chemical oblivion of stars like Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan, and others has been nothing short of schadenfreude for me. On one hand, I know that they're just people with problems, which is sad. On the other hand, it's very, very awesome.

Meandering Thoughts: It was 10 years ago today...

2007-12-18T15:48:00.001-08:00

10 years ago today, Chris Farley died.

Wow. I can't believe how the time has gone. What a tremendous talent that guy was. In reading interviews with his fellow "Saturday Night Live" alumni, all of them talked about how Farley was always the funniest person in the room, and the person to whom their eyes were drawn when he was onscreen. He was so much fun to watch.

A few months before he died, though, I remember sitting in my college dorm, drinking beer and watching the episode of "Saturday Night Live" which he hosted. I vividly remember having a friend of mine named Jason walk into the room, look at the screen, and say, "Wow. That guy's going to be dead soon." He was right. Farley wore his excesses on his sleeve; he was addicted to cocaine and heroin while also an alcoholic with terrible self-esteem issues. Not a fun combination, I'm willing to bet. Those excesses killed him.

Eons ago, when I was performing comedy regularly, one of the theater's respected older performers told me that I reminded him of Farley. Wary of Farley's personal history and the way that he died, I immediately shied away from that. I was taken back further when he clarified with two things: that I reminded him "in the good way" (which I took to mean my physicality onstage) and that he was quite familiar with Farley. It turned out that he'd eulogized him at one of the memorial services. To this day, it's one of the greatest compliments that I've ever been given.

I miss Chris Farley. There was a savage edge to his work, but an essential sweetness to everything that he did which made things all the more wonderful. The world needs more performers with those qualities.

Year In Retrospective Part One: My Favorite Songs of 2007

2007-12-18T13:36:00.001-08:00

I've decided that I can be reasonably sure that I'm not going to hear many more new songs this calendar year; therefore, it's time for me to rank my 10 favorite songs for the calendar year. To be eligible for this list, the song had to have been released (officially) between January 1 and now of this year. And I will have had to have heard it between now and then. I can obviously not rank songs that I haven't heard. [Feel free to fire back in the comments section.]

1. Radiohead, "All I Need"
There's been a lot of hype about the latest album from Radiohead, and with good reason - the band's decision to forego traditional distribution routes and release the album onto the internet may have been the most revolutionary act in the history of the recording industry. Lost in that hype, however, was the fact that with this album, "In Rainbows," Radiohead has finally released the true followup to 1997's amazing "OK Computer" - an album that retains the highly electronic sound the band has chased for the bulk of this decade, while revisiting the songcraft that built the band's reputation. "All I Need" is the centerpiece of this album - and an amazing song. If you don't get goosebumps when the drums kick in, you're not human.

2. Wilco, "What Light"
Life affirming to the point of near-hippiedom, this track reminds each set of ears that it reaches that there's always reason to be optimistic. I can dig it.

3. Rivers Cuomo, "Longtime Sunshine"
I'm so glad this song has been officially released - it's an epic ballad of longing and sadness, and one of Weezer frontman Rivers Cuomo's finest moments. While we may never hear a formal, full-band version of this, this demo will more than suffice for the time being.

4. Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova, "Falling Slowly"
I'm a sucker for harmony, which this tune has in spades. It's from a movie called "Once," which I haven't seen yet, and a worthy candidate for the best original song Oscar in the upcoming awards.

5. Mark Ronson, "Valerie"
While a great portion of the music-writing world continues to fall at the feet of Amy Winehouse, let us take the time to praise her producer, former club-kid Ronson, whose singlehanded revival of soul-music production made Winehouse's album infinitely better. This track features Winehouse on a genius revisitation of a Zutons album track from a few years ago.

6. Kings Of Leon, "Knocked Up"
Clocking in at over 7 minutes, this blues ramble may actually be longer than an actual Kings of Leon show I caught in 2005. The song's consistent, rumbling rhythm and lead singer Caleb Followill's soulful lead vocal make this track a career highlight for the Kings as well as one of the best tunes of the year.

7. Stars, "Midnight Coward"
The dueling lead vocal between the male and female singers of Stars - never really harmonic, but instead more of a call-and-response vocal - make this song (about the doubts that come and go in the beginning stretches of an intimate relationship) completely noteworthy.

8. Eddie Vedder, "Hard Sun"
9. Loudon Wainwright III, "Daughter"
Both Vedder and Wainwright put together preeminent soundtracks this year; both of these tracks are from soundtracks (Vedder's earthy accompaniment to "Into The Wild," and Wainwright's straightforward, folky counterpoint to "Knocked Up"), and both are covers. Both are, to say the least, essential.

10. Josh Ritter, "Right Moves"
After last year's stunning "Girl In The War," Ritter's taken a slightly more lighthearted path with this track. When he starts spitting words at a remarkably rapid clip, watch out - it's got the effect of being simultaneously hilarious and kind of odd.

Utter Randomness

2007-12-10T17:18:00.000-08:00

In lieu of an actual entry, here are some things we've been digging lately:

The great Joe Henry has a new album out. Called "Civilians," it's another slice of this man's brilliance. Do yourself a favor. Go here and download "Our Song," Henry's dramatic fantasia that begins with an imagined encounter with the great Willie Mays in a Home Depot and climaxes with a lament that "this was my country." It's beautiful, and it's a free download. Do it.

We have a great affection for terrible, out of place jerseys (our collection includes a David Wells "Boomer 33" Yankees t-shirt, as well as a Danny Kannell Giants jersey). That's why we aspire to be on Straight Cash, Homey. Check it out. It's awesomeness.

Our friend Bob over at the blooming Silhouettes Of Birds And Trees has taken the time to rank his 65 favorite albums of this year. While we've been curmudgeonly about year-end lists, this is pretty well thought out. It's missing some Stars and Joe Henry, nevermind Loudon Wainwright's wonderful, beautifully crafted soundtrack for "Knocked Up," but well-played.

We're not buying any more holiday cards this year, but if we were, it'd be these whimsical, hand-made cards from friend-of-a-friend Jodi Skeris.

That's all for now!

Meandering Thoughts: Hey, 2007 Is Not Over Yet

2007-12-07T17:43:00.001-08:00

There's a part of me that loves year-end lists; whether it's "Entertainment Weekly," "GQ," "Rolling Stone," or some other magazine I've not yet seen, there's a simplicity and a bit of status to these lists which provides average readers like myself with a chance to catch up with the best and brightest of the past year. However, there's a part of me that's alarmed at how early people decide to view the calendar year through the amber lens of the rear-view mirror.

I found myself at a Manhattan newsstand today, and I was surrounded by magazines and their year-in-review coverage. I had to check myself a bit with a bit of reality. It's December 7th, and publications around the world are calling a close to the year. Which, as much as I love it, seems to be a touch premature; I mean, if magazine editors were this quick to summarize the year in, say, 1941, the defining moment of the year (the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor) would have been a footnote in their coverage. In 1980, there'd be no mention of another defining cultural moment - the killing of John Lennon in front of his Upper West Side apartment building. Heck, even last year, in the waning days of the year, America lost a former president (Gerald Ford) and the world lost a Godfather of Soul (James Brown).

So, perhaps in awhile, I'll have some kind of retrospective of the year. But, until then, there's music for me to listen to, and movies for me to see, and a current day to experience. Curmudgeonly? You bet.

The December Playlist (or, Thank you, Schenectady. Thank you, Albany. Thank you, thank you, silence...)

2007-12-01T16:56:00.000-08:00

In writing this blog, I've tried a lot to separate my personal life from the things that I write about. However, I believe it's the place of the writer to write from the heart once in awhile - and make it personal - to get their message across. This is one of those times.

So, in case you're reading this and haven't been keyed into what's been going on with me for the past month and change; I'm in the middle of what will be the beginning of my big move - back to New York City after 4 and 1/2 years in the Albany area. I begin a new job on Monday, and if all goes well, in a few months, I'll have my own place in New York City. It's a whirlwind move in what's been a year of whirlwind moves for myself and my closest friends, and while I'm very stoked to head downstate and get cracking on this new, lucrative opportunity, it's a bit sad for me to leave behind this area.

So, here's a quick list of the things about the area that I will miss:
- the Albany Pump Station, Olde Saratoga, and Brown's Brewing Company
- Thacher State Park
- the view from the hills of Altamont
- a walk along the perimeter of Washington Park and Lark Street
- Revolution Hall
- WEXT and WEQX
- the Hudson and Mohawk Rivers
- Bombers, Mahar's, and Lionheart
- the Spectrum
- Albany basketball
- Downtown Schenectady and the Stockade - BL's, Uncle Ben's, the Grog Shoppe, Pinhead's, Slick's, Shamrock's, the Thai Bistro, and even the Saw Mill, Blythewood, and Blockhouse
- Driving out into Vermont and Massachussets and back through the Berkshire
- the way the sun sets out here

There's more, but I'm not going to go on and on. You see, for every great place up here, there's people behind it that made it so very worthwhile for me. So, before I go, I want to dedicate a very special December playlist for the people up here who made all of these things (and more) so very worth it. So, for Javen and Justine, Jim and Karyn, Paul and Becky, Nora and Kevin and Elizabeth and Marty, Matt and Rick and Nick, the West Wing folks, Bill, the Shorts, my grad school classmates, my colleagues in school and work, and, hell, even for all the girls I dated - these go out to you. It's a mix of happy and sad stuff, of course, kind of like my time here. If it wasn't for you guys, I don't know what I would have done. Thanks. I love you. Er, most of you. Somewhat.

So now then, here are 10 songs.
1. "Stars," Hum
2. "The Way We Get By," Spoon
3. "Picture In A Frame," Anne Sophie von Otter
4. "Sick Of Goodbyes," Cracker
5. "This Year," Mountain Goats
6. "Ambulance Blues," Neil Young
7. "Where Did I Go Wrong With You?," Martin Sexton
8. "Simple Twist Of Fate," Bob Dylan
9. "Knocks Me Off My Feet," Stevie Wonder
10. "Glad Tidings," Van Morrison

And now, onward and upward, as they say. Excelsior.

Meandering Thoughts: On the Yankees and Johan Santana

2007-11-28T08:54:00.000-08:00

I'm not going to discuss the Yankees and Johan Santana at length (I would refer you instead to excellent sites like Peter Abraham's Lower Hudson newsblog, or to the phenomenal River Avenue Blues), but I did have one thought on it that I thought I would be doing the entire blogosphere a disservice if I didn't put it out there.

For the first time with Yankees prospects, I feel like the Yankees are in a better position without the marquee, big-money player. Santana's great, but they should not mortgage their youth movement (not just the great young pitchers, but also sparkplugs like Melky Cabrera) for any player - not even the great Santana.

I'm reminded of the quote with which Vin Scelsa begins his great radio show on WFUV - which he himself took from the music writer David Fricke. It goes like this: "Respect the elders. Embrace the new. Encourage the impractical and improbable, without bias." I want to see the Yankees continue to embrace the new. It might be impractical for the Yankees, given their business model, to go away from the veteran with the track record, but I think it'll be more exciting.

Some things we're thankful for this Thanksgiving...

2007-11-21T07:18:00.000-08:00

Here are some things - some are pop culture, others are not - that we're thankful for this Thanksgiving.

- We're thankful that we've taken the time out to watch "It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia," the hands-down funniest show on television (it's on FX). While we're especially partial to Charlie Day's character, the illiterate, glue-huffing, constantly shouting Charlie, there's so much else about this show that's awesome. If you're not watching it, you should be.

- We're thankful for the safe, healthy arrival of a certain newborn little girl.

- We're thankful for another Thanksgiving of listening to "Alice's Restaurant" at noon. And we're appreciative of Alice's spirit, which is absolutely worth emulating.

- We're thankful (and, to be frank, excited) that our brother's working on a book. On the same token, we're excited about a free software program that we recently discovered that may help us get that screenplay we've wanted to write going.

- We're thankful for the "I'm Not There" soundtrack, which is absolutely as awesome sounding as we'd hoped it would.

- We're thankful for Paul Lukas's Uni Watch Blog, which legitimizes our long-standing interest in sports-related minutiae.

- We're thankful that Chuck Norris has embraced his mythology in the name of politics. We're not crazy about the other dude he's working with, but we're grateful to start off this upcoming year of campaign overload with a good laugh.

- Most of all, though, we're thankful for our friends and family, for the things that remain constant in times of flux, and for the simple, elegant things that make things worth doing.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

Support.

2007-11-20T19:54:00.001-08:00

We support our friends in the Writers Guild of America in their ongoing strike.

For more information, please go to UnitedHollywood. Thanks.

The 100 Greatest Rock Songs Of All Time

2007-11-20T06:17:00.000-08:00

This November, wonderful area radio station WEXT-FM has decided to put together a massive list; and oh boy, do I love lists. Their "The 100 Greatest Rock Songs Of All Time" will air on January 1, 2008 and will be compiled exclusively online through listener suggestions.

Naturally, I feel compelled to throw my two cents in. The station is asking for 20 suggestions per listener. I can do that. To add to my challenge, I will choose no more than 2 songs from any one band or act (it would be very easy for me to topload this list with stuff from the Beatles, REM, Bruce Springsteen, and other bands I've loved for years and years), and I will try to keep it to one song per act wherever possible. I'm not going to pick exclusively "rock songs" either - I will pick songs by rock bands, but if their best work doesn't come in a Zeppelin-esque hail of rhythmic thunder, so be it. I'm all about the subtlety. Finally, I'm going to shed this "of all time" moniker - it adds far-unneccessary significance to a list. I'm going to pick my essential 20 rock songs - my favorite 20.

So, here goes:

1. "Born To Run," Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band
2. "Like A Rolling Stone," Bob Dylan
3. "You Can't Always Get What You Want," The Rolling Stones
4. "Here Comes The Sun," The Beatles
5. "Fall On Me," R.E.M.
6. "Beautiful Day," U2
7. "Heroes," David Bowie
8. "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down," The Band
9. "Solsbury Hill," Peter Gabriel
10. "Into The Mystic," Van Morrison
11. "California Stars," Wilco
12. "I Hope That I Don't Fall In Love With You," Tom Waits
13. "Ooh La La," The Faces
14. "Let Down," Radiohead
15. "Radio Radio," Elvis Costello and the Attractions
16. "Landslide," Fleetwood Mac
17. "These Are Days," 10,000 Maniacs
18. "Here Comes Your Man," The Pixies
19. "Wishlist," Pearl Jam
20. "Unsatisfied," The Replacements.

I find that a lot of these placements are arbitrary. That being said, "Born To Run" is most assuredly number one and "Like A Rolling Stone" is most assuredly number two - both are the kind of song where you hear the first second (Max Weinberg's snare roll at the beginning of "Born To Run," and Bobby Gregg's single crack that kicks off "Like A Rolling Stone") and you know - you just do - that you're going for a ride and that hell yeah, you're in capable hands.

Meandering Thoughts: Live From (Somewhere Else In) New York: It's (Still) Saturday Night

2007-11-19T05:35:00.001-08:00

I've always admired the television show "Saturday Night Live." What's not to admire? By design, the show is an inherent work of art: it's live, performance-based television in a way that few others can even come close to mimicking. Sure, "American Idol" is a live show - and features live performances - but there is a vast difference between singing traditional and familiar songs live and what "Saturday Night Live" does, which is perform one-off, generally-topical sketches. Sure, "Mad TV" is a sketch-comedy show - but it's performed in a traditional, taped format that allows for "re-dos" and what I assume is the television equivalent of digitally remastering a live performance for a concert album.

"Saturday Night Live" has brought some tremendous talents to the forefront of our culture - besides the original cast of Not Ready For Primetime Players (Chevy Chase, Gilda Radner, John Belushi, Dan Aykroyd, Garrett Morris, Laraine Newman, and Jane Curtin), many other talents have either gotten their big breaks or honed their craft while doing this show. Bill Murray, Harry Shearer, Al Franken, Eddie Murphy, Joe Piscopo, Julia Louis Dreyfus, Billy Crystal, Christopher Guest, Robert Downey Jr, Jon Lovitz, Dennis Miller, Anthony Michael Hall, Randy Quaid, Dana Carvey, Mike Myers, Jan Hooks, Kevin Nealon, Chris Farley, Adam Sandler, David Spade, Janeane Garofalo, Molly Shannon, Norm MacDonald, David Koechner, and Will Ferrell are among the many folks who have (at one time or another) been in the repertory company of this show.

Creatively, the show goes through its peaks and valleys; when it's on, the show's generally responsible for creating some lasting moments of cultural stability - but when it's not, it's subject to cries of "Saturday Night Dead" and "Saturday Night Live hasn't been funny in years." It's the price the show pays, for better or worse.

Recently, production on the show has halted due to a writer's strike - a strike which we here at bTb adamantly support, we should add. So, the cast of Saturday Night Live did something pretty cool: they got together at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater* in Manhattan and put on a a live stage version of their show as a benefit for their crew. The reports are trickling in from sources like the New York Times and the Huffington Post (the HuffPo even namechecks longtime friend of bTb Justin Purnell).

The verdict: sounds like a hell of a time. Naturally, I wish I'd been there for it - I'll have to make do with the stories that I'll no doubt hear from my NYC friends. If I hear anything particularly cool, I'll pass it on.

[* By way of full disclosure, I should note that I was a regular performer at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater from 2001-2003, and have performed there on somewhat sporadic basis since. I am most assuredly biased here - bTb]

The Playlist: November 2007

2007-11-13T19:32:00.001-08:00

It's been a busy month. Hell, it's been a busy week. Since Thursday of last week (5 days ago, for those who are counting), I've been to a family wake, a wedding, visited a newborn in the hospital, spent time with all of my brothers, and accepted a new job that will mean that I am moving back to New York City. Craziness. This has been the soundtrack to this quick and tumbling time.

Wake:
"Find The River," R.E.M.
Wakes are such awkward, strange times. Silent mourning, chairs set up in rows. Well, when I die, I want my wake to have music playing, and chairs arranged so that people can sit and talk to each other. "Find The River" should be played at my funeral, because I can think of no better thought to leave people with than that final verse: "Pick up here and chase the ride, the river empties to the tide, and all of this is coming your way." It's mournful, thoughtful, and yet optimistic.

Wedding:
"Here Comes Your Man," The Pixies
"LoveStoned/I Think That She Knows," Justin Timberlake
My friends Jed and Teresa got married at Battery Gardens, at the southern tip of Manhattan, on Saturday. It was a beautiful ceremony - elegant and poetic, in the best senses of the word. "Here Comes Your Man" was their first dance song; the way it unfolded could have been the last scene of an awesome romance movie, with all couples being invited onto the floor to dance with them. Sheer beauty. As a wildcard, though, I have to mention the aforementioned Timberlake track, which soundtracked a hilarious dance between the bride and one of her gay friends, which was frickin' awesome and hilarious.

Newborn:
"I Believe In Love," The Dixie Chicks
Yesterday, my friends Javen and Justine's newborn, Emma Claire, was born. I got to visit a few hours after her birth, and let me tell you, it was a wonderful feeling. While I'm not related to Emma really, there was definitely that sense of "oh my god, this is amazing" when I held her. What a wonderful feeling. I hope I'm lucky enough to experience it as a father someday.

Brothers:
"The Fairest of the Seasons," Nico
My brothers remind me somewhat of the Tenenbaums from the Wes Anderson movie "The Royal Tenenbaums." It's not that we're failed child prodigies, but rather, it's that the Tenenbaums all had rich, quirky childhoods like my brothers and I. I like to think that while we all have our rough spots, we also have amazing, different presents that we all bring to the table when we're together. It's what makes the end of "The Royal Tenenbaums" so special. This song comes from that moment of resolution.

Job:
"Leaving New York," R.E.M.
As thrilled as I am to have a great opportunity in front of me - and literally, it's the kind of opportunity that I've been waiting on for ages - there's a real and true sadness in what it means, a departure. "Leaving New York, never easy," Michael Stipe sings, "I saw the lights fading out." The lights are fading out on me upstate. "You might have succeeded in changing me, I might have been turned around," he continues. "It's easier to leave than to be left behind."

Well, this is the most personal thing I've written in awhile. It's been that kind of week.

Meandering Thoughts: On "Cool"

2007-11-08T07:58:00.000-08:00

In his most recent column in "Entertainment Weekly," horrormaster Stephen King has attempted to take on one of the greatest cultural divides of our time: the difference between what's cool and what's not cool.

"The meaning of cool," King says, "is beyond definition (and) beyond modification." This is irrefutable. I would posit that, from a writerly perspective, once you attempt to define what "cool" is, you immediately lose all credibility. You can always give examples of what you perceive "cool" to be, but once you try to create a structure for "cool" and "coolness," you're done.

In this article, King doesn't attempt to create this structure - rather, he gives some examples of what's cool (among others, he cites John Fogerty's new album, Barack Obama, "Prison Break," Elmore Leonard, and Fred Rogers) and what's not cool (among the cited: George Clooney in "Michael Collins," Hillary Clinton, Patricia Cornwell, and "Friday Night Lights"). He's quick to point out that being uncool is not necessarily a terrible stigma (for example, he thinks that "Friday Night Lights" is an excellent show - it just will never have the cache/sexiness of a lesser-caliber show like "Prison Break").

These are all valid points. Then, however, King blows all credibility whatsoever by insisting that he's cool, saying "Remember, cool is not a way of life; it's a state of being. Like your height. I can't help being 6'3", and I can't help being cool. Same way Michael Crichton can't help being 6'9''...and not cool." (King, for the record, looks like this. I'm just saying, is all.)

Anyway. A golden rule of "cool," if such a thing exists, is that you cannot insist overtly on your own coolness. It just can't be done. If you have to tell people that you're cool - and King most certainly does here - you're absolutely not cool, and the other things which you've pronounced to be "cool" are tarnished in turn.

Stephen King is uncool. He's written some cool books, sure, but he's also responsible for sap like "The Green Mile" and a good number of subpar books as well. Beyond his picture (above), I also refer you to the fact that he plays in a rock band called The Rock Bottom Remainders - which would be cool if it weren't an all-author band. You see, authors aren't cool, pretty much ever - however, their books may or may not be. "Misery" is cool. Playing the guitar on an atrocious version of "Wild Thing" alongside Amy Tan? Uncool, about ten million times over.

Keep in mind, I don't think of myself as being cool at all. Lord knows, I've tried to be cool - the trying, though, immediately made me uncool, which is a stigma I've carried with me ever since.

When it all comes down to brass tacks, I think of the words of the late Kurt Cobain, who sang, "I'd rather be dead than cool." That seems completely reasonable. I mean, I don't want to be dead. So, I want to be cool even less.

Of course, that's contingent upon words of wisdom coming from Kurt Cobain, who's both dead and cool (go figure).

The Woody Allen Question

2007-11-07T12:08:00.000-08:00

Towards the end of Woody Allen’s “Manhattan,” Woody’s character Isaac Davis is asked what makes life worth living. In typical Woody fashion, he hems and haws and then says the following:

“Why is life worth living? It's a very good question. Um... Well, There are certain things I guess that make it worthwhile. uh... Like what... okay... um... For me, uh... ooh... I would say... what, Groucho Marx, to name one thing... uh... um... and Wilie Mays... and um... the 2nd movement of the Jupiter Symphony... and um... Louis Armstrong, recording of Potato Head Blues... um... Swedish movies, naturally... Sentimental Education by Flaubert... uh... Marlon Brando, Frank Sinatra... um... those incredible Apples and Pears by Cezanne... uh... the crabs at Sam Wo's... uh... Tracy's face...”

Every now and then, I ask myself that question – to think about what are the things that are sustaining me through my second-to-second existence.

In August 2005, on an old journal on the Improv Resource Center, my answer was the following: “A long conversation over a few drinks with a good friend. A hug from my mom. A postcard from my dad. An obscene voicemail from my brother, overseas in the military. The first few weeks of September, when summer fades and the trees up here change color and the school year begins. Pad thai. The Sunday comics. Flip-flop sandals. A long walk with my I-Pod on shuffle. The squeal and laugh from my godson when I pick him up and hang him upside-down. Love, in all its forms, shapes, and seasons.” In December 2002, my answer was a tad less precious and more focused on more-temporary things: “Sitting on the Hudson River side of a passenger train between NYC and upstate. A cup of coffee late at night when you really, really need one. The last three songs of "Automatic For The People." Doonesbury collections from the 1970s. Stepping into the water at Waimea Bay, Oahu. Driving alone and singing, loud and out-of-tune. The feeling you get when you're onstage.”

It’s been a couple of years since I’ve thought about this question. I blanche a little bit when I look at my past answers – in 2002, I was probably trying to be too pop-culture savvy, and in 2005, I was extremely sentimental to the point of overtly romanticizing things, I think.

So, hmm, without being too much of either of those things, why is life worth living? Right now?

It’s about the little things for me – the lunch, dinner, drink with a friend and the opportunity to play catch up. It’s allowing myself to be surprised by something, whether it’s a new aspect of a story from an old friend or family member or something silly like a cannon that shoots pumpkins into the horizon. It’s very much all of those other things, too, all of which mean a lot to me and always will.

But it’s also a really good Belgian Farmhouse Ale. Anytime a TV show or movie makes me laugh out loud. The opening notes of the Band’s “Chest Fever.” A soy chai latte with sugar-free hazelnut syrup. Weddings. Babies. Calvin and Hobbes. A glass of chilled white wine, preferably a Riesling or a Gewurtztraminer. The Staten Island Ferry. The Hudson and Mohawk Valleys when the leaves change color. Elton John’s song “Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters.” The movie “The Princess Bride,” every time. Third kisses, much more than the first. Sunday mornings. Sleeping in with someone else. Subway or commuter trains, in any city, when you have the time to enjoy the ride. Tom Waits’s “Closing Time” album. Bronx pizza.

So, those of you still reading: what’s your answer to the Woody Allen Question – what are the things that make life worth living?

Please respond, either in the comments or on your own blog. I’d love to know what you think.

How I'd Fix The Yankees

2007-11-06T12:49:00.000-08:00

Well, the 2007 baseball season has been over for more than a week now (by the way, congratulations to the 2007 World Champion Boston Red Sox; as for you, Boston sports fans, the moratorium on “woe are we” talk begins now and, should you remain championship-less for the indefinite future, ends somewhere around 2025). I already miss baseball.

That being said, I’ve always loved the machinations of the baseball offseason. As much as I love baseball and watching the games, I’d almost want to be a fly on the wall of the Annual Meetings as a viewer at a postseason game. When I was a kid, I used to play “general manager” by myself and try to fix the wrongs of the late 1980s-early 1990s New York Yankees.

Now, I’m old. Some of my interest in being a general manager has been quelled through playing fantasy baseball, which I’ve done on and off since my junior year of high school. That being said, I love this time of the year – the so-called “Hot Stove League,” where baseball executives whittle through the winter months in an attempt to better their teams.

As a Yankees fan, this offseason’s already been a hectic one. There’s been a switch at the helm; exit Joe Torre, enter Joe Girardi. The coaching staff has also been overhauled [Ron Guidry and Joe Kerrigan are out, Don Mattingly and Larry Bowa are California-bound; meanwhile, Mike Harkey, Dave Eiland, Rob Thomson, and Bobby Meacham assume coaching duties]. Alex Rodriguez seems definitively gone from third base, and Jorge Posada, Mariano Rivera, and Andy Pettite’s futures all hover with uncertainty.

So, I’m going to do what I used to do so often in my childhood. I’m going to reshape the Yankees. Here now is what I would try to do if I were the general manager of the Yankees. I’ve tried to make all trades relatively reasonable (that is, to say, somewhat feasible and reasonable – there will be no trades of all-stars for single minor league players, and no salary dumps without rational decision-making behind it).

First trade: I would offer the San Francisco Giants a package of OF Hideki Matsui and SP Chase Wright for Noah Lowry. San Francisco would benefit from having someone as unflappable as Matsui take over Barry Bonds’s left field position, and Wright is a decent lefty who could start or relieve in the big leagues. The Yankees were a better team last year with Melky Cabrera and Johnny Damon in the outfield. Lowry is a good lefty starter, and would capably fill a #3 or #4 spot in a Yankees rotation, striking that balance of youth with experience.

Second trade: I would offer the Florida Marlins the following package for 3B Miguel Cabrera: SP Darrell Rasner, SP Matt DeSalvo, SS Alberto Gonzalez, and 3B Eric Duncan. The Marlins would get DeSalvo, who will be a starter, and Rasner, who could swing between the rotation and the bullpen, as well as AAA starters Duncan and Gonzalez. This deal would need to be contingent upon a contract extension for Cabrera.

Third trade: I would offer the Texas Rangers RP Kyle Farnsworth for OF Marlon Byrd. The Yankees would need to pick up some of Farnsworth’s salary, and Byrd would be a far better fourth outfielder than the other options.

Fourth: I would absolutely, completely resign Posada, Rivera, 1B Doug Mientkiewicz, P Luis Vizcaino and C Jose Molina. In free agency, I would also attempt to sign RP Francisco Cordero.

My 2008 Yankees team would look thusly:

Starting Lineup:
LF Johnny Damon
SS Derek Jeter
RF Bobby Abreu
3B Miguel Cabrera
C Jorge Posada
2B Robinson Cano
DH Jason Giambi
1B Doug Mientkiewicz
CF Melky Cabrera

Bench:
C Jose Molina
IF Andy Phillips
IF Wilson Betemit
OF Marlon Byrd

Rotation:
Chien Ming Wang
Noah Lowry
Joba Chamberlain
Phil Hughes
Mike Mussina

Bullpen:
Mariano Rivera
Francisco Cordero
Ross Ohlendorf
Jose Veras
Ron Villone
Jose Vizcaino

I would have Ian Kennedy and Humberto Sanchez begin the season in AAA, but they’d be the first pitchers up to fill spots. I’m just going to assume that Carl Pavano would spend the entire season on the disabled list. As much as I love Shelley Duncan, I think he’d start the year in the minors as well.

Meandering Thoughts: Musical Moments

2007-11-02T08:35:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about music lately. Over at Beerjanglin, I just wrote a piece that focuses on the combination of beer and music; meanwhile, my friend (and new blogger) Bobbo wrote a great piece that talked about a monumental concert event I attended last weekend at a farmstand outside Kingston, New York. (I'd talk more about the farmstand concert - which featured the legendary Levon Helm and was absolutely goosebump-inducing - but I instead invite you to read Bobbo's version of it instead - he did a great job of encapsulating a great musical moment).

Anyway, I wanted to talk about another musical moment that happened recently. Have you ever had a moment where you listened to a song and it absolutely captured the moment to the point where it felt like narration? I had one of those moments the other day.

I took myself a long weekend; I spent a whirlwind of a time in New York City, where I caught up with some old friends and had a lot of meetings that, without being too revealing, portend a great amount about my future (both immediate and distant). Anyway, at the end of this weekend, I ventured my sedan back towards Albany, and spent a couple of hours of my Tuesday evening on a dark, eerily quiet Taconic Parkway traveling north. I'd packed some CDs that I hadn't listened to in awhile for the trip; I decided to listen to Bruce Springsteen's "Tunnel Of Love" album for this leg of the journey.

As I neared the Austerlitz-Chatham exit (the final one on this stretch of road), the final track of this album came on - a haunting, melancholy ballad came on. Here, now, are some snippets of Springsteen's lyrics with explanation.

I'm driving a big lazy car rushin' up the highway in the dark
I got one hand steady on the wheel and one hand's tremblin' over my heart
It's pounding baby like it's gonna bust right on through
And it ain't gonna stop till I'm alone again with you

I, too, was driving a big lazy car and I was hurtling up a darkened highway. That alone made my eyes open wide. While I can't say that I was thinking about being alone with somebody per se, I was definitely thinking about a lot of things - my future, mostly... And yes, I drive with one hand steady on the wheel. I know we're not talking about mindblowing stuff here, but it certainly resonated.

Springsteen continued:

A friend of mine became a father last night
When we spoke in his voice I could hear the light
Of the skies and the rivers the timberwolf in the pines
And that great jukebox out on Route 39
They say he travels fastest who travels alone
But tonight I miss my girl mister tonight I miss my home

Here's where the connections got more personal. While a friend of mine didn't become a father last night, one of my closest friends in the world is on "any day now" status for fatherhood. Which is weird and different. I find myself wondering not whether fatherhood will change him, but rather, how much it will. It's weird and different and not really something I've taken the time to attend to in a friendship. And that part about missing my girl and missing my home - well, that part'll get me for awhile. I'm not in a relationship right now, and I don't miss my ex-girlfriend, but there's something about being in a relationship that I miss dreadfully, that made me feel somewhat closer to complete. I miss that all the time. And part and parcel with the weekend was that sense of home - so much doubt and change.

I could go on, but to be honest, my story would diverge even further from Springsteen's in the song. That being said - I love it when I can make a connection with a song, even if it's a painful, philosophical one.

Anyone had anything similar ever happen?

The Playlist: October 2007

2007-10-24T12:14:00.000-07:00

This month, we’re looking at songs that are our personal soundtrack to the change of the seasons. The leaves are changing color, the air is getting crisper, the sun is setting earlier, and this is what we’re listening to…

1. “Sweetness and Tenderness,” The Rentals.
- When first we encountered the Rentals, they were an analog-synthesizer-laden side project of Weezer. In the years since the first album, Rentals frontman Matt Sharp has left his gig in Weezer, and apparently ditched the synthesizers. This song features piano, acoustic guitar, and violin prominently and may be the most achingly gorgeous thing I’ve heard in ages, due largely to Rachel Haden’s cooing second-lead vocal.

2. “Weird Fishes/Arpeggi,” Radiohead
- We’re hoping to have more about the new Radiohead album, “In Rainbows,” shortly. This track has become an instant highlight of the album for me, thanks largely to the swirling, ambient guitars. While Radiohead has forsaken typical verse-chorus-verse song structure, it’s nice to see that they can use their guitars and use them beautifully.

3. “Girls In Their Summer Clothes,” Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band
- Leave it to Bruce to release the best summer song I’ve heard in years at the very end of summer. Sigh. Classic E-Street song, complete with great piano, keyboards, and saxophone.

4. “Room At The Top,” Tom Petty
- Through the magic of DVD, I’ve been reintroducing myself to the television series “Undeclared.” Watching this has made me nostalgic for college, not because the show sugar-coats the experience of being away at school for the first time, but rather because it gets it so very right. The denouement of the first episode, where lead character Steven Karp (Jay Baruchel) confronts the fact that he’s absolutely terrified, while the other characters go through not-dissimilar moments, features this song. So spot-on and wonderful.

5. “Chelsea,” Counting Crows
- Another month, another Counting Crows song – this one, the “hidden” track from the disc featuring the band’s VH1 Storytellers performance on their “Across A Wire: Live In New York” set. It’s a sparse song about one of my favorite New York City neighborhoods, featuring mournful horns, piano, and Adam Duritz’s voice. Graceful and elegant, like the best parts of autumn.

The Pharyngula Mutating Meme.

2007-10-22T06:47:00.000-07:00

My brother Mike (see link on blogroll) tagged me with the Pharyngula Mutating Meme - a series of questions that can change as they get passed from blogger to blogger according to a set of simple rules.

The original questions were:

1. The best time travel novel in SF/Fantasy is...

2. The best romantic movie in historical fiction is...

3. The best sexy song in rock is...

The Pharyngula mutating genre meme:

There are a set of questions below that are all of the form, "The best [subgenre] [medium] in [genre] is...". Copy the questions, and before answering them, you may modify them in a limited way, carrying out no more than two of these operations:

* You can leave them exactly as is.

* You can delete any one question.

* You can mutate either the genre, medium, or subgenre of any one question. For instance, you could change "The best time travel novel in SF/Fantasy is..." to "The best time travel novel in Westerns is...", or "The best time travel movie in SF/Fantasy is...", or "The best romance novel in SF/Fantasy is...".

* You can add a completely new question of your choice to the end of the list, as long as it is still in the form "The best [subgenre] [medium] in [genre] is...".

* You must have at least one question in your set, or you've gone extinct, and you must be able to answer it yourself, or you're not viable.

Then answer your possibly mutant set of questions. Please do include a link back to the blog you got them from, to simplify tracing the ancestry, and include these instructions.

Finally, pass it along to any number of your fellow bloggers. Remember, though, your success as a Darwinian replicator is going to be measured by the propagation of your variants, which is going to be a function of both the interest your well-honed questions generate and the number of successful attempts at reproducing them.

For the purpose of this intellectual exercise, my parent blog is The Questionable Authority. (He's traced the ancestry of the meme completely - click on his link if you so choose.)

These are the questions I got from my parent blog (really, they're categories and not questions, but it hardly seems fair to expect science geeks to, you know, use words properly).
The best time travel book in SF/fantasy is:
The best English novel in scientific dystopias is:
The best page-turner book in historical fiction is:
The best landscape painting in American art is:

That being said:
The best time travel movie in SF/Fantasy is: "Back To The Future"
The best English novel in scientific dystopias is: Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World"
The best page-turner book in historical fiction is: "The Road To Wellville," TC Boyle
The best landscape painting in American art is: Thomas Cole's "The Oxbow"
The best power ballad in American rock is: "Faithfully," by Journey.

I am propagating this meme on thusly: because I don't have a sense of who reads this blog - if you feel so inclined, take this meme on in your blogging (and credit me as the "parent" blog). If not, meh. One thing I like about evolution is its unpredictability - let's see where this goes from here.

Meandering Thoughts: Alice Sebold's "The Almost Moon"

2007-10-22T06:38:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend, I finally began (and finished) Alice Sebold’s new novel, “The Almost Moon.” I’m not much of a book reviewer, so here’s my quick take on this book:

The difficulty faced by Sebold in creating a followup to her previous novel (the multimillion-selling “The Lovely Bones”) is the indelible impression left on readers by that book. For me, as a reader, one of the things that I was absolutely captivated by in terms of “The Lovely Bones” was Sebold’s character of Suzie Salmon, the young, dead narrator of the story – it made an otherwise dark story extremely palatable, largely because of the grace and beauty of that youthful presenter and the idea that came with her of a heaven being personally defined. It added a light sheen to a dark story; ultimately, I feel that this is what made “The Lovely Bones” wonderful.

In “The Almost Moon,” Sebold sets out to shed the otherworldly childlike presence that inhabited the pages of “The Lovely Bones.” She does so immediately and with the subtlety of a jackhammer – her lead character in “The Almost Moon” is a woman in her late forties who, within the first pages of the novel, gets frustrated with her infirmed, mentally-questionable, elderly mother and kills her. It’s no brutal a starting point than “The Lovely Bones” (which is told from the point of view of a young girl who has been raped and murdered), I suppose, but I think I was hoping for something that might be even slightly reminiscent of that sense of innocence and beauty. That’s lacking in “The Almost Moon,” which takes us through a day in the life of an extremely troubled woman.

In short, I didn’t like “The Almost Moon” too much. When it comes down to brass tacks, though, this was probably an impossible book to follow. As much as I admire Sebold’s artistic intent to create distance between “The Lovely Bones” and what will be the remainder of her career as an author, though, I found myself missing the childlike voice and sense of innocence that was so central to that book as I read this one.

The Odds: Who Will Be The Next Yankees Manager?

2007-10-19T06:36:00.000-07:00

As an avowed Yankees fan, I viewed yesterday's dismissal of Joe Torre as manager with a combination of sadness and ambivalence. [Yes, let's be honest, and call it what it was - a dismissal. The contract offer proferred by Yankees administration was an atrocity that Torre obviously recognized as being nothing so much as a Catch 22, and while the decision to not accept it was obviously Torre's, it should be viewed as a termination. I would have liked to have seen Torre get a happier ending to his time in pinstripes, but realistically - the expectations were high, but he didn't meet them. It's hard to keep your job if you're not meeting expectations, even if they're ludicrous. And the offer that they gave him was a terrible one, that involved a large-percentage salary decrease with even loftier expectations.]

That being said, one of my favorite things about baseball has always been hot-stove-league machinations. In an offseason without a lot of big-name free agent movement (according to a list maintained by the wonderful MLBTradeRumors.com, the list is currently headed up by a trio of current Yankees - Alex Rodriguez, Mariano Rivera, and Jorge Posada - but is otherwise lacking in big-name sexiness), it serves to reason that the Yankees managerial opening may be one of the biggest offseason bidding spots.

So, let's look at some of the candidates for the position. We've handicapped the race for you (admittedly, we don't have any inside information, and truth be told, when it comes to gambling we're pretty terrible), and perhaps provided you with some food for thought.

The Favorites

Don Mattingly 7:2
Pro: Is well-acquainted with NYC media glare, both as a player and a coach. Has expressed willingness and interest in the job. Steinbrenner loves him.
Con: Lack of experience a major factor - the last manager that the Yankees had whose first ever managerial job was the helm of the Yanks was Lou Piniella, who did well at first but melted down quickly.

Joe Girardi 4:1
Pro: Has experience with NYC media glare as a player, coach, and broadcaster, and a track record of managerial success (2006 NL Manager of the Year).
Con: Might struggle with a veteran club - when he was in Florida, it was with a youthful core. The Yankees that Girardi would inherit could feature several players who knew him as a peer.

Tony LaRussa 6:1
Pro: Very successful manager with an extensive track record of success. Possible Hall of Famer, when all is said and done.
Con: No experience with NYC media glare; it is reported that he "lost" the Cardinals last year; questions about character as leader and individual will follow him given his arrest last year and the Cardinals' issues with substance abuse (Josh Hancock's death and Scott Spezio going into rehab, among others).

The Dark Horses

Tony Pena/Larry Bowa 9:1
Pro: Success and experience as Yankees coaches and as managers in other cities (Pena in Kansas City, Bowa in Philadelphia).
Con: Perceived as having a minimal impact while coaching for the Yankees. Probably aren't serious contenders for managerial jobs in NYC.

Trey Hillman 12:1
Pro: Currently managing in Japan, Hillman is still widely remembered and respected in the Yankees organization for his time as a minor-league manager. He's known for player development, which could figure in nicely with the Yankees' current organizational strategies.
Con: Trey who? Lack of name status and big-league experience could be a turnoff for the Yankees given their high expectations.
[Mere hours after posting this, Hillman was announced as the new manager of...the Kansas City Royals. So he's off the board. Good luck to him in KC.]

Bobby Valentine 14:1
Pro: He's done well in New York (most notably, as manager of the 2000 NL Champion Mets).
Con: He's Bobby Valentine.

The Longshot

Dave Miley 17:1
Pro: The International League's Manager of the Year last year in Scranton, Miley has experience on a major league level, and worked with a lot of the young Yankees that will be forming the core of next year's team.
Con: Not used to NYC media glare; his three years as a major league manager (Cincinnati) were less than successful. Probably better suited to minor-league managing for the time being.

The Dark Horse

Luis Sojo 20:1
Pro: Beloved for his time in New York, has managerial experience in Yankees organization and in International baseball
Con: Has been managing A ball - may not be "ready" for the big show as a manager yet

Save Your Money

Willie Randolph (Mets manager) - 25:1, Joe Kerrigan (bullpen coach/former Red Sox manager) - 27:1, Tony Franklin (AA Trenton Thunder manager) - 35:1, Lee Mazzilli (former bench coach/ex-Orioles manager) - 35:1, Don Zimmer (avowed Steinbrenner hater/curmudgeon) - 60:1, Stump Merrill (ex-Yankees manager, man named "Stump") - 60:1.

As for this blog, well, as much as we love Don Mattingly (he's awesome), we'd love to see some kind of throwback to the championship run of 7 years ago. We'd be fine with Joe Girardi, definitely, but how awesome would a Luis Sojo-run Yankees team be? It's got potential, you gotta admit...

Meandering Thoughts: On Counting Crows and "August And Everything After"

2007-10-16T08:17:00.001-07:00

One of the pleasures of growing up in the Dunford household was the slow earning of privileges. Specifically, as my three brothers and I got progressively older, we were allowed to stay up increasingly late and watch different kinds of television.

I couldn’t tell you how old I was when I started watching “Saturday Night Live,” to be honest with you. I could tell you that the cast of the show included such comedy superstars as Dana Carvey, Mike Myers, and Chris Farley. I could also tell you that, before I watched a single frame of a live show, I was already well versed in the culture of “Saturday Night Live” – a couple of years before I’d seen the show, I read a copy of “Saturday Night: A Backstage History,” a now-out of print book that chronicled the show’s ups and downs in graphic, sensational history that my Uncle Chris gave to me to read during a visit to my grandparents’ house. Enamored with what I’d read (even though the book was a warts-and-all portrayal of the show and process that didn’t necessarily lend itself to being viewed in a good light), and spurred on by my father’s habit of taking movies out from the library, I began to watch older “greatest hits” highlights of “Saturday Night Live” – the best sketch comedy work of folks like John Belushi, Bill Murray, and Eddie Murphy.

However, when I started watching the show on a regular basis, I found the comedy end to be somewhat lacking. Like many viewers of the show, I was measuring the show with one of the harshest yardsticks possible – that of the aforementioned comedy gods. Let’s face it – when you’re trying to fill shoes as big as those left behind by the late, great Gilda Radner with the feet of someone as catastrophically atrocious as, say, Melanie Hutsell, then you’re already kind of dooming yourself to failure.

The reason I watched a lot of the shows that “Saturday Night Live” aired during my high school years was because of the music. In one season of the show (the 1993-94 season), the bands that performed included Nirvana, Cypress Hill, the then-newly-revitalized Aerosmith, Smashing Pumpkins, and Snoop Doggy Dogg. The music was generally phenomenal during my introductory years.

The band that I remember the most from this time-period on “Saturday Night Live” was, surprisingly, Counting Crows. The Counting Crows debuted on “Saturday Night Live” in January of 1994, the same week that my father had a heart attack. I remember staying up to watch the show with my older brother, who was home from college at the time, and watching the entire episode of this show. I’d not heard of Counting Crows before the previous week’s announcement of the musical guest, and I had no idea of what to expect until I heard the first notes of their first song.

The song that they played was “Round Here,” which was unlike anything else I was listening to at the time. My musical tastes were dominated by angry, grungy rock music (although my favorite album at the time was R.E.M.’s quiet, melancholy “Automatic For The People”). “Round Here” wasn’t particularly angsty or loud – it was quiet and melancholy without being particularly sweeping or orchestral. It was yearning music, sung by a weird-looking dude with dreadlocks and played by a band of folks who didn’t look like the grunge-muppet misfits that I liked to listen to. Perhaps it was the time and place, or perhaps it was the right sounds and message at the right time, but I was completely mesmerized.

I sought out a copy of Counting Crows’ debut album, “August and Everything After,” soon after, and I fell in love. 1994 wound up being a miserable year for me personally, but there was always comfort in that album for me – whether it was the ballads (“Anna Begins,” “Sullivan Street”) or the faster songs (the ubiquitous radio smash “Mr. Jones,” as well as “Rain King” and “A Murder Of One”). For better or worse, that album soundtracked a lot of terrible things for me that summer – hospital visits, funerals, and the car trips and waiting rooms in between.

Like just about every year in history, 1994 came to an end, just like every streak of luck (whether good or bad) comes to an end. I still find a lot of comfort in the “August and Everything After” album; I’ve never thought about why I do, really, but I think it has something to do with having made it through the difficult times and emerging. I mean, I cannot listen to a wide range of music (from Bob Dylan and Mercury Rev to Radiohead’s “Kid A” album) without thinking about being in Manhattan on September 11th , 2001), but I can still listen to “August and Everything After” without those feelings coming back.

Interestingly enough (and perhaps coincidentally), when I’m in periods of transition, I find myself gravitating back to the Counting Crows. For example, when I decided to move to upstate New York and pursue my Master’s degree, the song that meant a lot to me was “A Murder Of One.” The end of college had a lot to do with “Recovering The Satellites,” from their second album for me. Now I’m in another time of transition, and I find myself back, listening to “Sullivan Street” from that album. It’s comforting and wonderful.

All Apologies.

2007-10-05T10:10:00.000-07:00

We're currently experiencing technical difficulties.

(That is, to say, our computer is just about dead.)

Posting will be sporadic for awhile.

The Playlist: September 2007

2007-09-24T09:58:00.001-07:00

1. “Grapefruit Moon,” Tom Waits. I’ve been slowly exposed to the bulk of Tom Waits’s debut album, the more than thirty-year-old “Closing Time,” and you know what? I’d be hard-pressed not to consider it one of the greatest albums of all time, seriously. “Grapefruit Moon” is one of the overlooked tracks on this album, and is early-career Waits at his finest – it’s some straightforward crooning from the quirky-voiced balladeer. Give it a download. It’ll melt your heart, in the best way possible.

2. “Let My Love Open The Door (E-Cola Mix),” Pete Townshend. Normally, this solo single from Townshend functions as an upbeat pop classic; this remix, found on the soundtrack to the highly underrated John Cusack movie “Grosse Pointe Blank,” turns the uptempo gem into something else entirely. In this mix (apparently created by Townshend himself), the song turns into a sweeping, epic ballad with electronic textures. It fits, magnificently.

3. “Put It On Me,” Ben Harper And The Innocent Criminals. In this digital age, Harper and his band took a risk by recording an entire album live to analog recording. This track is one from that disc; it rattles and hums beautifully, an elegant bastard of gospel and rock and roll that would make Sly Stone proud.

4. “Camera,” R.E.M. This mournful tune from R.E.M.’s second album, released at the end of Ronald Reagan’s first term, may be one of the greatest ballads the band’s created. It’s the sound of a band that’s almost – but not quite – found their voice; Michael Stipe has yet to grow into the tenor voice that defined later hits, and rather than stride to the emotional heights of later tracks, the music takes a definitive turn inwardly. The resulting song doesn’t achieve the universal mournfulness of a track like “Everybody Hurts,” instead it becomes incredibly specific and note-perfect. Goosebump-inducing.

5. “Anna Begins,” Counting Crows. This month, the Counting Crows have re-released their landmark album “August and Everything After.” Years later, this track still stands out – emotional, powerful, and absolutely resonant. It’s easy to be annoyed with singer Adam Duritz and his pretenses, both in fashion and voice; however, tracks like this – exacting and delicate – may turn out to be among the most influential from the 1990s.

Forthcoming: Five Fall Movies We're Excited About

2007-09-20T09:38:00.001-07:00

The Darjeeling Limited
(IMDB page)
This film opens in New York City on September 28, and makes its way to other cities beginning on October 5. It’s scheduled to arrive in Albany on October 19.

Why we’re excited: It’s a Wes Anderson movie. Say what you will about his other movies (“Bottle Rocket,” “Rushmore,” “The Royal Tenenbaums,” and “The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou”) but, more than any other directors, Anderson’s established a definitive style with both visual imagery and his use of music. This film promises to be more of the same. If you’ve liked the other films (and I’m admittedly in that category), this looks promising.

Why we’re hesitant: Anderson’s films have been increasingly whimsical; “The Life Aquatic” enough so that his style came perilously close to torpedoing the movie as a whole. Hopefully, he’ll pull himself back from this fantastical precipice. We’re optimistic.

Dan In Real Life
(IMDB page)
This film opens nation-wide on October 26.

Why we’re excited: Steve Carell. If the advertisements are any indication, this film is a romantic comedy; after broadly comic turns in “The 40 Year Old Virgin” and “Anchorman,” and a foray into dramatic comedy in his supporting role in last year’s surprise Oscar contender “Little Miss Sunshine,” this seems to present Carell with his first opportunity to headline a mainstream romantic comedy. It could catapult him to mainstream A-list stardom. The trailer for the film hints at a warmth that I haven’t seen in a romantic comedy since “Love Actually” – this is a very good sign.

Why we’re hesitant: Dane Cook. The sometimes/rarely-funny hyperactive standup apparently plays a supporting part. He’s appealing to some folks; however, not so much for me. We’ll probably see it anyhow.

No Country For Old Men
(IMDB page)
This film opens November 9 in limited release

Why we’re excited: The Coen Brothers are directing this; it’s going to be interesting to see what they’ll do with Cormac McCarthy’s really bleak subject material. Oscar buzz abounds for the Coens and star Javier Bardem.

Why we’re hesitant: Bleak movies, while often interesting from the perspective of actors, designers, and directors, aren’t really appealing to a lot of people, myself included. If I wanted to walk out of a darkened room after two hours in a bummer of a mood, I’d hang a picture of an ex-girlfriend over my bed and nap more often.

Southland Tales
(IMDB page)
Opens November 9 (we think)

Why we’re excited: Richard Kelly’s followup to the darkly brilliant “Donnie Darko” has been in the works for quite some time. It filmed in 2005, and was originally due in 2006. “Southland Tales” has an eclectic cast – the film features Dwayne (“The Rock”) Johnson, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Seann William Scott (as twins!), Justin Timberlake, Wallace Shawn, and Kevin Smith.

Why we’re hesitant: Premise overload. A postapocalyptic near-future? Tons of quirky, specific characters? Musical numbers? It could be way too many things crammed into one 137-minute flick. Also, the least time we were waiting for a followup film like this, it was Mike Judge’s followup to “Office Space,” which wound up being the overloaded, relatively unfunny “Idiocracy.”

Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium
(IMDB page)
Opens November 16 nationwide.

Why we’re excited: Dustin Hoffman’s been making some interesting acting choices lately, with quirky, distinctive parts in films like “I Heart Huckabees” and “Stranger Than Fiction.” This is another quirky part, where Hoffman plays a fantastical, 216-year-old toymaker. Natalie Portman also stars, which is a good thing.

Why we’re hesitant: It sounds awfully derivative of “Willie Wonka,” to be honest. Other than that, we’ve got nothing.

Meandering Thoughts: On Bill Belichick And Cheating

2007-09-18T16:46:00.000-07:00

This is the NFL policy on videotaping other teams. It comes from a memo sent to all head coaches and general managers on September 6, 2006, prior to the start of last year's season: "Videotaping of any type, including but not limited to taping of an opponent's offensive or defensive signals, is prohibited on the sidelines, in the coaches' booth, in the locker room or at any other locations accessible to club staff members during the game."

The coaching staff of the New England Patriots, led by Bill Belichick, was caught two Sundays ago in the act of videotaping the signals of the New York Jets. (This was apparently not their first violation of this edict: last year, when the Belichick-led Patriots played the Green Bay Packers, a cameraman was detained and believed to be doing something similar.) They have since been punished by the commissioner of the National Football League, Roger Goodell: the team will forfeit up to two draft choices in next year's draft, the team was fined $250,000, and Belichick himself was fined $500,000. This should have, by many accounts, have been the end of things.

However, Bill Belichick all but assured that this story would be far from over. The day the penalties were announced, Belichick released the following statement:

"I accept full responsibility for the actions that led to tonight's ruling. Once again, I apologize to the Kraft family and every person directly or indirectly associated with the New England Patriots for the embarrassment, distraction and penalty my mistake caused. I also apologize to Patriots fans and would like to thank them for their support during the past few days and throughout my career. "

"As the Commissioner acknowledged, our use of sideline video had no impact on the outcome of last week's game. We have never used sideline video to obtain a competitive advantage while the game was in progress."

"Part of my job as head coach is to ensure that our football operations are conducted in compliance of the league rules and all accepted interpretations of them. My interpretation of a rule in the Constitution and Bylaws was incorrect."

"With tonight's resolution, I will not be offering any further comments on this matter. We are moving on with our preparations for Sunday's game."

To be helpful, I placed the troublesome part in bold. You see, sports fans, Bill Belichick refuses to admit that he cheated. His clear and blatant violation of the year-old policy? An incorrect interpretation.

Ultimately, this highlights the attitude that is currently causing a great deal of difficulty for the National Football League. Simply stated, Belichick might as well be imitating the cocky, balding record producer from the "Chef Aid" episode of South Park -you know, the one who'd bellow "I am above the law" while squeezing more hair gel onto his combover.

In refusing to acknowledge what he did, Belichick is doing two things - neither of which are particularly good for him.

First, he's stonewalling (think a less-serious, non-governmental version of Richard Nixon circa Watergate) - rather than admitting responsibility, he's seemingly trying to stop the amount of information that is publicly known about his actions from getting out there. He's not discussing the events - which is understandable in a way, as his primary responsibility is to prepare his football team for games. However, the way he's going about it seems practically designed to make him seem utterly and completely unlikeable - he's quickly become a football version of Barry Bonds; unapproachable, surly, and generally churlish. Bonds, at least, has never been caught red-handed, and continues to deny; Belichick's been caught and penalized and continues to deny. In the NFL, a league which prides itself on its character, this can only get increasingly worse.

Second, his antics - and they are antics, no matter how much people will try to downplay them or qualify them by saying, sans evidence,"oh, everybody does this" - is overshadowing what might be a tremendous all-time team. My personal distaste for everybody in a Patriots uniform aside, this current Patriots team might be one of the best to play in Foxboro; they made some smart moves over the offseason, buying tremendous amounts of talent on both ends of the ball to go along with Tom Brady and the other talent that already existed on a playoff team. Image is everything in this league; right now, instead of golden boy Brady serving as the team's primary focus, the klieglights of the media are focused directly at the man on the sidelines. Belichick dresses like a hobo on the sidelines, often sporting tattered sweatshirts. He looks squirrelish and distrustful; to find out that, behind the scenes, he's acting this way as well will only keep the bright lights shining onto his persona. This is not good for the Patriots; they spend the big bucks on the players partly to keep Belichick in the background.

Will this go away? I don't think so. Unfortunately for Patriots fans, the tone set in the first year and change of commissioner Roger Goodell's reign over the National Football League has been one of personal accountability and punishment; if, as it is currently being speculated, the taping of the Jets is the mere surface, then there's a lot more bad stuff coming down the pipe for Bill Belichick and the Patriots franchise.

Beating The Drum For: Bill Simmons Inadvertently Explaining His Writing Since 2003

2007-09-14T15:54:00.001-07:00

The column: Bill Simmons's Week 2 Picks (formally titled: "The mail, the picks, and the cheaters")

The date: September 14, 2007

In Simmons's 2,132nd "mailbag" column in the past 100 weeks, Simmons takes on the following question from "actual reader" Dan from Greenville, South Carolina: "Can you tell me why it is necessary for all the networks to have like 12-20 people on their pregame shows? Brent, Jimmy, Irv, and Phyllis were all we needed back in the day. I feel like NBC needs to take a census of who is in their studio each week."

Simmons responded by blaming it on network executives, and in doing so, inadvertently explained his own volume of work since the Red Sox won the World Series a couple of years ago:

"Well, the problem is every network has too many executives, and when you have a lot of executives, you have a lot of meetings, and if you have a lot of meetings, those same executives feel obligated to come up with ideas for those meetings just because they don't want the head boss to say, "Gee, that was weird, Bob didn't come up with a single idea in today's meeting."

He goes on: "That leads to people feeling obligated to throw out bad ideas because a bad idea is better than not having ideas at all."

And lo and behold, we have an excuse for most of the crap Simmons spews out on a regular basis. (Remember "The Sports Guy Cartoon?" Me neither. How about groundbreaking stuff like the 'Bill goes to a Devil Rays-Red Sox game and gloats about how awesome Red Sox bandwagon fans are' photo essay? Yeah...that was terrible. Boy, I can't wait for book number 2. Or the next "Bill goes to Las Vegas" column.")

God, Bill Simmons is terrible.

A quick thought for Kevin Everett...

2007-09-11T12:54:00.000-07:00

I've been a Buffalo Bills fan for pretty much my entire life (it's a byproduct of having spent several summers of my life within a quick drive of the Bills' old Fredonia, NY training grounds).

I'm not going to lament the team's last second loss to the Broncos on Sunday. However, I will break from my tradition (thus far) of using no pictures on this site.

This is Kevin Everett. He's a tight end for the Bills. On Sunday, he got hurt quite badly in a head-to-head hit on a special teams play.

The prognosis is bleak; doctors expect that Everett will be paralyzed, and fear that Everett might suffer from complications that involve his various involuntary processes.

Keep Everett in your thoughts; from all accounts, he was a hard-working football player who had already overcome a major injury in his career. The newswires are filled with reports about how kind and generous this guy was.

Football is a dangerous game, and yes, these are risks that players undertake whenever they strap on the pads. But, let's be real here: Everett is 25 years old. Nobody deserves this at 55, much less 25. He's just a kid. Keep him in your thoughts and prayers.

I'm Way Too Old For This: Thoughts As I Watch The 2007 MTV Video Music Awards

2007-09-09T17:40:00.000-07:00

I don't watch MTV anymore. There's a really good reason for this; aside from "Human Giant," there's really nothing on the channel that strikes my fancy. [Full disclosure: I submitted material as a consulting writer for the upcoming season of "Human Giant."] The bulk of the programming ("The Hills" and its similarly themed ilk) does nothing for me.

However, every year I watch the Video Music Awards. Why do I do this? There's no good reason. The music that the channel celebrates does nothing for me; I'd probably rather see the "NPR's Morning Becomes Eclectic" Music Awards. I'm generally disgusted by the trashier side of pop culture, and, to be bluntly honest, I'd be pretty much okay if an atomic bomb was detonated on one of the floors of the Las Vegas hotel in which these awards are being held this evening.

Yet, I watch it. It's kind of like the donkey show referenced in "The 40 Year Old Virgin." - you think it's gonna be cool, and then you realize that it's a woman (expletive deleted) a horse. And you just feel sorry for the horse.

They're advertising this year's show as a one-time-only event - in previous years, the show's been rerun eternally, but MTV is swearing that this will be it. So, I'm watching. I will not, however, be linking to any pictures

8:50 - Preshow. John Norris is hosting the preshow. He seriously looks like a vampire, and not in the cool, "Interview with the Vampire" way. He looks like the undead with a tousled, bleach-blonde cut...or, minus the showy hairdo, Freddie Mercury circa "Barcelona." Look that one up, kids. According to Wikipedia, Norris has been working for MTV since 1986 and is almost 48 years old. Huh. He doesn't look a day over 65, though.

8:58 - Preshow. Some British dude is interviewing Linkin Park. Mike Shinoda is the worst rock star ever. He's gigglier than Dakota Fanning on nitrous oxide, all the time.

9:00 - Britney Spears is opening the show. She is wearing a barely-there sparkly bra and panties set. It doesn't look good. Kind of a muffin top thing going on there. Her new song is entitled "Gimme More." I'd settle for giving us Britney wearing a shirt, and putting some actual rehearsal time in. She looks vaguely stoned. Not good. See you on "The Surreal Life," Britney.

9:09 - Alicia Keys introduces us to the night's conceit; they've apparently taken over the entire casino, and are throwing different "parties" in which different performers are going to be performing all night. Kanye West's hosting one, Justin Timberlake's hosting another one, and the bassist from Fall Out Boy's got another one going on. The Fall Out Boy guy's microphone isn't working - it's always nice to see karma and common sense work together to protect the general public. (I know he's got a name, and I know it, but I refuse to mention it - he seems like the kind of douche who spends the bulk his days doing a "blog search" on Google for his name, and I don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing his name on this particularly-low trafficked corner of the internets.)

9:20 - Akon's performing "Smack That" with Mark Ronson and the band that made Amy Winehouse's album. It sounds infinitely better with this band, which makes me believe that Amy Winehouse is more or less a lucky crackhead with a half-decent voice and great production.

9:22 - Robin Thicke was just introduced as "R & B's new royalty." Do they know that his dad was the pop from "Growing Pains?" Finding out that Jason Seaver has fathered R & B royalty is incredibly discomforting to me. It's just...kinda weird.

9:31 - The Foo Fighters are performing. This is awesome. They're a real band, with actual rock-and-roll bonafides. They're joined by former guitarist Pat Smear, among others - this is a genuinely cool moment. I'm sure MTV will cut away from this prematurely. (It lasted precisely 90 seconds.) It's always great to see Pat Smear doing stuff. That guy's great.

9:34 - Beyonce just won an award. Surprisingly, it isn't for the advanced robotic technicians who keep her looking so lifelike. I'm looking forward to her turn as a lifelike female doll in the upcoming "Lars And The Real Girl," mostly because Ryan Gosling can make anyone look good.

9:42 - Chris Brown's performance begins with an homage to Charlie Chaplin. Or, as I'm going to call it, that time the vaguely effeminate teenager put on a tuxedo and fake Hitler mustache and then tap danced and lip-synched in an odd attempt to curry some kind of street credibility.

9:46 - After a desperate attempt to prove his sexual prowess by awkwardly touching Rihanna's back, Chris Brown is now recreating Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean" dance. Someone should inform Brown (and Justin Timberlake, among others) that Jackson was an artist and not a genre of music.

9:55 - Bill Hader and Seth Rogen are on, in a recurring bit where they're talking about voting for the potential "losers" of the Viewer's Choice awards. This allows Rogen to throw out a jab at Wang Chung, which is lame, but we'll cut him some slack, as "Knocked Up" and "Superbad" were the best things going this summer.

9:59 - The Foo Fighters are back, with Cee-Lo this time. Cee-Lo is throttling the microphone stand and giving it his rock and roll best. They're ripping through Prince's dirty "Darlin' Nikki" and...yep, commercial break.

10:01 - Finding out that Alan Thicke somehow fathered someone referred to as "R & B Royalty" is like finding out that Pat Sajak's son is the new United States Poet Laureate. It's...just not right.

10:05 - In 2000, 50 Cent got shot 9 times. In 2007, in a desperate attempt to make it back to the top of the charts, he's relying on the questionable beatbox skills of a former Mouseketeer on a song. Just sayin'.

10:08 - Shia LeBoeuf just announced the title of the new Indiana Jones movie. It's "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull." I'm guessing "Indiana Jones and the Magical Social Security Payout" wasn't, y'know, mysterious enough?

10:20 - Oh, joy. It's Linkin Park. Despite the angsty undertones of the music, Mike Shinoda is beaming like a first-grader on Christmas. I don't get the appeal at all.

Well, this is where I came in. It's the same celebrities, rotating in and out. If there are going to be any true "surprises," I don't forsee any actually happening, unless Britney somehow manages to sneak in an overdose during the live broadcast. [Which, since it's Vegas, the house has 3:1 odds on.] So, as two coked-up looking dudes from "Entourage" present Fall Out Boy with an award, I bid you, my reading audience of (maybe) tens a fond adieu.

The sad thing is, as terrible as this show has been - and believe me, it's been terrible - I will probably watch a bit of it next year.

PS. Kid Rock and Tommy Lee apparently got into a fistfight. The battle for irrelevance...gets literal! I'm not sure what's more likely: one to knock the other one into oblivion, or the Billboard charts and general public to do the job for them. For me to root for one over the other is like rooting for poop to be better than doo-doo. Wait, that's not a metaphor. Yeah, I need to stop this.

Meandering Thoughts: An Appreciation of "For Better or For Worse"

2007-09-09T11:34:00.000-07:00

One of the many cultural benefits of growing up in New York City, aside from its myriad museums and artistic happenings, is the access that I had to many different sources of media. It seems almost incongruous now, given our current culture of information available on-demand whenever and wherever, but when I was growing up, I had access to a number of newspapers for a constant stream of information. Every Sunday, after church, you could stop by the corner store and pick up any one of a number of newspapers, from the highbrow New York Times to the lowbrow New York Post to the Spanish-language El Diario.

My favorite, growing up, was the New York Daily News. It wasn't intimidatingly massive like the Times, or in a language I don't understand like either the Post or El Diario. It was reliable - a great sports section, relatively-unbiased news. Most importantly, though, it had an awesome comics section - a pull-away 12+ page section on Sundays, and 3 to 4 pages of daily strips on the other days of the week.

I will always have a soft spot in my heart for the comics of my childhood. When I was young, my favorites were always the cartoons that didn't talk down to me. Calvin and Hobbes was unrelenting in its quest to bridge the gap between childhood and adulthood, and as such, a constant favorite. I appreciated the life-is-somewhat-dismal outlook of Charles Schultz's finest Peanuts moments. I always read strips like Doonesbury and Bloom County, as well. The one other favorite of mine? Oddly enough, it was the relatively-saccharine For Better or For Worse.

I can't tell you why I took to For Better or For Worse. The strip has always seemed like it was aimed towards the generation two ahead of mine; while it's readily featured three young characters, who have aged in real-time since the strip's inception in 1979, it's a cartoon that, like Doonesbury, is ultimately by a baby-boomer for an audience of baby-boomers. I guess I've always been appreciative of author/cartoonist Lynne Johnston's no-frills approach; where strips like Doonesbury and Bloom County diverted easily and often into the political, For Better or For Worse did a pretty phenomenal job of maintaining an intimate, personal point of view. There wasn't any political commentary, nor was there too much angst. The strip maintained a point of view for a great amount of time without getting too jokey or too flashy; it tackled a lot of capital-i issues (one character had a severe stroke, and another one fended off a possible sexual assault) without being too preachy. Everything that was done over the span of For Better or For Worse was done with a certain grace; this is not to say that the strip always succeeded (like many other strips, the author obviously struggled to write about adolescence and youth from her adult perspective), but it maintained a real dignity.

Recently, For Better or For Worse author Lynne Johnston announced her retirement. According to media reports, she's decided to phase out the strip gracefully - rather than wrap it up right now, she's going to use the next few months to create a "hybrid comic" where she'll use a flashback format to look back at the strip's original days before signing off sometime in the new year. Good for her. It's a plus to see a strip like this go out on its own terms, rather than see it taken over by a media conglomerate and farmed out. It might not be the hippest, edgiest strip, but it's always come from a singular point of view. I'm glad it's going to maintain that to the end.

I'm not really a constant visitor to the comics page anymore - I haven't been, really, since I stopped commuting in to work in New York City and stopped reading the New York Daily News on a regular basis - but, weirdly, I'll miss For Better or For Worse. It's another piece of my childhood - my strange, quirky, different childhood - that's disappearing. I can only wish it well.

Meandering Thoughts: ESPN Brings Forth The Apocalypse

2007-09-06T15:54:00.000-07:00

I was home sick from work today, which gave me the opportunity to watch some daytime television. In between trips to the bathroom, my television basically stayed glued to ESPN. It used to be that ESPN could be counted on provide some great sick-day programming; if it wasn't something decent like "SportsCenter" (which - despite its many misses and the fact that the show itself has become a series of commercials and sponsorships that has drained it of every single iota of journalistic credibility - can still be counted on for some mostly solid programming), it would be something awesome like "NFL Films Presents," which could leave you breathless after watching 1986 Buccaneers highlights for a half-hour.

However, what I beheld on ESPN - between the hours of 2:30 and 3:00 pm - was so very atrocious, so horrendous, so horrifying that I actually peeked out my living room window a couple of times to make sure that four horsemen were not stampeding down my street and that the apocalypse was not actually nigh. And while I'm still not actually sure this wasn't the case, I can say with some surety of what was actually occurring on my television.

The name of the show is "First and Ten," and the ESPN website describes it thusly: "With ESPN First Take's Jay Crawford and Dana Jacobson refereeing the always heated discussion, Skip Bayless and daily guests debate the top ten sports stories of the day from number ten to number one. In the show's first three segments, Skip and panel sound-off on each of the ten topics in a point-counterpoint debate. The final segment is "Extra Point" - the final word from all three on any sports issue they pick."

The show that I saw barely resembled that description. Yes, Dana Jacobsen and Skip Bayless were present. (Jay Crawford was apparently on vacation; the nondescript female talking head who assumed his place was possibly the least distinguished person to have graced the small screen at all. I couldn't tell you her name, or for that matter, anything else about her aside from her gender.) There was no "panel." Rather than having "daily guests," they had talking head/"sportswriter" Stephen A. Smith appearing. To call this show one of "discussion" and "debate" is like calling John Wayne Gacy "quirky." There was no discussion. There was no debate. There was a lot of screaming and posturing.

Why was this show atrocious? Let's look at the blustery talking heads at its Satanic core: Stephen A. Smith and Skip Bayless.

First, Stephen A. Smith. In the history of mankind, there has never been so much credit and credence given to someone who has so little credibility. Smith has been a writer for the Philadelphia Inquirer since 1994 - according to the paper's website, he has covered "Philadelphia 76ers, Temple University basketball and football, and college sports" and is now a columnist-at-large (which he began doing in 2003). Smith's lone other credit? Working for ESPN as a talking head, Smith has moved from commenting on basketball to a slew of other duties, including co-hosting SportsCenter and NBA Basketball coverage. ESPN even gave Smith his own television show, "Quite Frankly With Stephen A. Smith," a talk show which gave a retroactive intelligence to "Thicke Of The Night" and "The Pat Sajak Show." ESPN banks on Smith as a personality - but there seems to be no rhyme or reason for this; Smith comes off on television as a belligerent, blustery ignoramus who makes up for content and reason by generally maintaining a vocal volume that seems better suited to amplifiers at a punk-rock show.

Then there's Skip Bayless. I do not know how ESPN executives looked at this person, and said, "hey, there's a guy we'd love to see representing us on a regular basis." He does not look good on television - facially, he resembles something akin to a wrinkly, harsh-faced Satan, if Satan were forced to suck on lemons on a regular basis. He makes very terrible points that make it seem less like he's a journalist considering a variety of topics and more like someone saddled with a case of utter incoherence matched with Oppositional Defiance Disorder. He comes off not just as grumpy, but as an unlikeable person who would have no qualms about saying something like "Hitler had the right ideas but didn't go far enough."

Putting these two together is a terrible, terrible idea. Their personalities are grating enough, but the true difficulty with watching these two is the fact that they do not actually debate. They barely engage each other (hardly surprising, given their narcissistic tendencies). For a half-hour, they speak in absolutes. Which is a terrible, terrible thing when you consider that they are paid to talk about things that (1) haven't occurred yet, and (2) really require opinions and discussion. Neither entertains the possibility that the future sporting events that they're debating (today, it was the forthcoming NFL season and the New York Yankees) might deviate from the course set forth by their opinions.

The two of them went on and on about nothing. Smith "repeated" the "rumor" again and again that A-Rod is actually called "She-Rod" (as a Yankees fan who's heard just about everything, I have to say that I've never heard this one - it is more than plausible that Smith made this one up), and then went absolutely ballistic when Bayless called Terrell Owens "Team Obliterator." They literally only engaged each other about their made-up nicknames for athletes. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, these two are paid journalists! (Paid by multiple organizations, no less. Oy vey.)

Smith and Bayless are hardly the only individuals on television that do this; they're following a path forged by news channels like Fox and CNN, where journalists ranging from the quasi-likeable (I'm sure some name will come to me soon) to the blustery, Vader-esque (Robert Novak, Bill O'Reilly, everybody eles) insert their opinions into every single news story, obliterating the very concept of journalistic independence for the sake of ratings. However, Smith and Bayless have elevated meaningless, bad-for-our-society bluster to a new high in this - they suck the remaining drops of joy from sports, instead of contributing to our enjoyment of them. For that - although, surely, not that in and of itself - they should both be drawn, quartered, tarred, feathered, shivved, and shot.

And do it quick. Every time they "debate," those horsemen draw closer.

Beating The Drum For: Bruuuuuuuuuuuuuuce!

2007-08-31T07:58:00.000-07:00

We’ll admit that we’ve always had a soft spot in our heart for Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. In the mid-1980s, when we had a full head of hair (and were in elementary school), one of our prized possessions was a dubbed audiotape copy of their “Born In The USA” album. We’ve never really been much for the title track of that album, but some of the deeper cuts from that tape – “Darlington County,” “Workin’ On The Highway,” “Bobby Jean,” and “I’m On Fire” – can still be counted among our favorite songs to date.

Well, Bruce and the band (whose ranks currently include guitarists Stevie Van Zandt, Nils Lofgren, and Patti Scialfa, bassist Garry Tallent, keyboardists Danny Federici and Roy Bittan, violinist Soozie Tyrell, drummer Max Weinberg, and saxophonist Clarence Clemons) are about to come out with a new album. Called “Magic,” it’ll be available in early October.

The first single, “Radio Nowhere,” debuted this week (it’s available as a free download on I-Tunes until next Tuesday, as well as here), and while we might be biased, it’s one of the most interesting songs we’ve heard in awhile – a wall of aggressive guitars accompanied by an aggravated-sounding Springsteen growling. It’s a relatively brief track – just over 3 minutes – with a centerpiece saxophone solo from Clemons front and center. It’s extremely interesting and worth a listen.

For those of you in the Capital Region, Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band will be touring this fall – on November 15, they will be appearing at the Times Union Center in Albany. Tickets go on sale September 8. We’re hoping to be there, naturally.

(Overrated) Movies That Provide Iconic Imagery That Define Generations

2007-08-30T11:00:00.000-07:00

Have you ever watched one those “decade in review” shows? You know the type: generally found on basic cable, they offer comedians and television personalities of all types sniping at cultural touchstones from years past with the benefit of perspective and a deft comic touch. Anyway, have you noticed that, even within these irreverent shows, there are a few sacred cows – movies that are revered as being super-important signifiers of their time?

Well, those movies suck, and here’s a decade-by-decade breakdown of these so-called “important” films and why they’re actually terrible.

1950s: “Rebel Without A Cause.” Nicolas Ray’s film is emblematic of the explosion in teenage culture that came in the 1950s. “Blackboard Jungle” will forever be known as the movie that introduced rock-n-roll music to a mass audience, but “Rebel Without A Cause” will stand as the zenith of 50s-era teenage iconography because of its introduction of James Dean as a troubled bad-boy. What is overlooked, however, is the fact that Dean simply isn’t all that good in this film – his moment of rage (the famous line “you’re tearing me apart”) is terribly emoted, and Dean’s other setting – that of studied cool – seems to conceal the possibly-blasphemous notion that he’s not that good of an actor. My verdict: this movie is only legendary because of Dean’s infamous car-accident death, which gave more credence to his performance than anything that actually occurred on celluloid.

1960s: “Easy Rider.” In the famous coda of this 1969 film, which has long been held as emblematic of the counterculture and the shift in values that occurred with the continued insurgency of youth culture, Peter Fonda’s Captain America character says, “We blew it.” He couldn’t be more right. Filmmaker/star Dennis Hopper created a film with some magnificent imagery – the famed shot of the lead characters riding their motorcycles through the American West, for example. However, the movie has extreme difficulty in maintaining any type of consistent narrative structure; its use of jump-cuts (especially during the Mardi Gras scenes) may have been revolutionary (and anticipated a legion of faux-artistic music videos in later decades), but subvert the viewer’s best efforts to stay with the film. This may be a film best viewed with, um, chemical interference; without it, it doesn’t really hold up. They blew it.

1970s: “Saturday Night Fever.” This movie is 119 minutes long, and feels like a much longer film. The imagery it presents – that of strutting disco king Tony Manero (John Travolta) – serves as shorthand for the 1970s, largely because it presents a number of dance-oriented scenes centered around the feel-good, gotta-dance “me” decade. The dance scenes are good; however, Norman Wexler’s patented ultra-realistic dialogue (also present in films like “Serpico” and “Joe”) falls flat when whiningly delivered by John Travolta and his cronies, who come off as anti-heroes that simply aren’t worth rooting for. “Saturday Night Fever” was an excellent music video, but it’s a terrible, grating movie.

1980s: “The Breakfast Club.” People of a certain age absolutely worship this film – why, I don’t know. This might be John Hughes’s worst movie (and this is a man who brought the world “Baby’s Day Out.” The heavy-handed grouping of character archetypes – the nerd, the jock, the princess, et al – doesn’t flow particularly well as a movie. It’s a group of dramatic monologues, loosely combined. While some of the actors are capable in this movie (Molly Ringwald looks absolutely at ease here), many of the portrayals in this film suffer from inane overacting (I’m looking at you, Judd Nelson – his Bender may be the worst-acted character of the entire decade, for God’s sake) or are underwhelming, barely-there sketches (Ally Sheedy). To paraphrase William Shakespeare and Robert Downey, Jr, this film is a lot of “sound and fury,” signifying “less than zero.”

1990s: (tie) “Fargo” and “Being John Malkovich.” While I actually really liked both of these movies, and have seen them each several times, they’ve come to emblemize a different kind of filmmaking excess: the overindulgence in character quirkiness in a film. Frances McDormand’s pregnant Midwestern police officer may have been a revolutionary role at the time, but how many films tried to piggyback on this eccentricity without a compensatory amount of plot? (The answer: a lot, with varying degrees of success, from the terrible “Drop Dead Gorgeous”.) “Being John Malkovich” was a movie that suffered from chronic underacting – while I enjoy the work of screenwriter Charlie Kaufman and director Spike Jonze a great deal, I think that they could have done a lot better with the conceit behind this film, which supposes that there’s a portal into the brain of a prominent character actor. This film introduces several fascinating characters, but doesn’t do a tremendously good job of grounding them in anything resembling reality. As someone who has dabbled in acting in the past, I applaud the effort to create fascinating, distinguished characters – however, they can simply not carry a movie by themselves. These movies are emblematic of that late-90s desire to be grittier and more “real,” but instead serve as reminders of what happens when quirks overcome plot as a dominant feature of a film.

I don’t think that there’s really a definitive film for this decade yet – and there is still a solid ¼ of a decade to determine this. But it bears thinking – what will provide the iconic filmic images of this decade? Will it be one of the “Frat Pack” comedies of the last few years? Will it be “Borat” or something similar? Who knows! That said, I promise this – once this decade is defined, I’ll find something that’s very wrong with the film that defines it.

Forthcoming: "3:10 To Yuma"

2007-08-30T08:21:00.000-07:00

From the moment that mankind developed a technique for creating moving images on strips of celluloid, it seems as though there have been actors dressing up in the legendary garb of the cowboys of the Old West in films.

There is no doubt that the era in which the Old West was explored and settled was a compelling time – a lawless age, where justice was questionable (at best) and men relied on their own personal moral compasses to define their character. It’s unquestionably rich – the sheer context of the time serves as a morally ambiguous character in and of itself. When you add the act of mythmaking that comes with creating a motion picture, you add so much more – for actors, it’s a chance to dirty up a little bit, ride horses, and generally play along with a childhood fantasy come to life. I mean, who wouldn’t want to act in a Western – to wear boots with spurs, and kick in the swinging door of a frontier saloon?

As an actor, being in a Western provides one with the chance to follow in the footsteps of iconic cowboy actors like John Wayne (whose turn in, among dozens of other Westerns, “Rio Bravo” cemented his status as a definitively moral voice of law and order in the West) and Clint Eastwood (whose roles in several 1960s “Spaghetti Westerns” – collaborations with the great Sergio Leone – practically single-handedly redefined the genre). Many have jumped at the chance; whether it’s Michael J. Fox as the time-traveling Marty McFly in “Back To The Future Part III,” or Leonardo DiCaprio as a teenaged gunslinger in “The Quick and the Dead,” the annals of movie history are filled with characters who have partaken of the legend of the Old West.

Since the heyday of the aforementioned “Spaghetti Western” in the 1960s, it seems as though every generation of actors has gone back to the well every few years and explored the Old West. In the later 1960s and early 1970s, it was the era of the so-called Acid Western, where counterculture-influenced actors like Dennis Hopper and Robert Redford fused their ideals with Old West sensibilities to create morality plays. In the 1980s, Westerns were essentially laughed at; films like “Silverado” played up the comic sensibilities inherent in the clichés of the genre. 1990s-vintage westerns like “Dead Man,” and most notably, “Unforgiven,” played up the moral ambiguity of the times – the biggest battles in these Westerns often occurred within the hearts of the heroes and anti-heroes that dotted the barren landscapes of the bleak, unsettled territories of the Old West.

Well, it seems like we’re upon another era of Westerns. This fall sees the release of two new Westerns to multiplexes. Later this fall, Brad Pitt and Casey Affleck star in “The Assassination of Jesse James By The Coward Robert Ford,” which looks interesting. The Coen brothers, famed for quirky, independent-minded movies like “The Big Lebowski” and “Raising Arizona,” will put their postmodern imprimatur on Cormac McCarthy’s modern-day Western “No Country For Old Men” later in the year. First to screens, though, is the Russell Crowe and Christian Bale-starring “3:10 To Yuma,” based on an Elmore Leonard short story (and a expanded remake of a 1957 Glenn Ford Western). I caught a preview of this movie last night.

With little new ground to explore in the realm of the Western, “3:10 To Yuma” settles for being an amalgam of previous movies; it combines the moral ambiguity and personal dilemmas of more recent films like “Unforgiven” with the thrilling, “shoot-em-up” mentality of John Wayne-era pictures, with a miniscule infusion of humor and the gritty, gory realism of most modern violent films. It’s an interesting combination; unfortunately, it doesn’t particularly succeed.

The movie is headlined by tremendous actors; Russell Crowe and Christian Bale enter the first frame of film in “3:10 To Yuma” with phenomenal pedigrees – I mean, one’s the Gladiator, and the other’s managed to create iconic characters from Batman to (Patrick) Bateman. Unfortunately, they’re playing characters who don’t feel particularly well-formed. Bale is Dan Evans, the “good guy” of the movie, driven to do the right thing. Unfortunately, and I’m not sure whether this is the fault of Bale or director James Mangold, the audience never really comes to understand Evans’s motivations for doing the “right thing.” (There’s a bit towards the end where Evans reveals his hand; by then, though, it’s too little, too late.) As Evans, Bale is asked to be both inherently good and morally ambiguous – it’s ambitious, but never really succeeds. As “bad guy” Ben Wade, Russell Crowe is faced with a similar task – to be inherently bad and morally ambiguous. He comes closer to succeeding than Bale does, due largely to his unfettered charisma – the camera obviously loves Crowe, and he unflinchingly loves it back, which does add an interesting aspect to his murderous, duplicitous Wade. However, because “3:10 To Yuma” is in essence a “traditional” Western – it retains the story from a good-guy versus bad-guy story – it suffers a bit from having the bad guy be a more magnetic presence. Both Bale and Crowe suffer a bit for their character’s voices (both lead actors are foreign-born, and as such, have to obscure their natural accents) – they sound less like distinctive portrayals and more like whispery Clint Eastwood imitators, which is sadly unfortunate.

The supporting characters add an interesting dimension to this film; most notably, Ben Foster (previously known for his teenaged roles, including a part in the disastrously unfunny Dave Barry-scripted “Big Trouble” and a role in the third “X-Men” movie) is an absolute revelation as the psychotically unhinged Charlie Prince. You can’t take your eyes off him when he’s on-screen in this movie. Young Logan Lerman, playing Evans’s conflicted, stubborn 14-year-old son, also scores major points for his unflinching performance. Peter Fonda, Dallas Roberts, Vinessa Shaw, Gretchen Mol, and Alan Tudyk also provide solid, if unspectacular, support.

“3:10 To Yuma” is an interesting attempt at reinvigorating the Western genre for the first decade of the new century, but ultimately, it’s a noble failure because it offers nothing new and instead piggybacks too much on clichés from movies of the past. It will be interesting to see if the remainder of the year’s Westerns continue this trend or breathe new air into this type of film.

[“3:10 To Yuma” arrives in theatres on September 7. It will be showing in sneak previews across the country this weekend; check your local listings.]

Meandering Thoughts: Nickelback Is Terrible, And Here's Why

2007-08-24T11:56:00.001-07:00

One of my favorite movies of the last twenty (or so) years is Richard Linklater’s 1993 ensemble opus “Dazed and Confused.” The movie (which you really should see if you haven’t already) is a meandering, multi-character excursion through life on the last day of school in a Texas town in 1976.

The movie is filled with memorable performances; among these is that of Sasha Jenson, who plays the affable Don Dawson. His is a supporting role, but it is quite memorable. As the football teammate and best friend of central character Randall “Pink” Floyd (Jason London), Jenson is a wonder to behold. As Dawson, he is a ball of lunatic energy and is so magnetic that it makes one wonder why his acting career never really took off beyond this movie.

There is a moment that Dawson has, though, that has made me understand a central truth about a major player in the entertainment industry. Let me explain the moment, though, before I go any further. In the scene that I’m thinking of, which comes early in the movie, Dawson is walking through the halls of the school building with Pink, discussing the anti-drug pledge (and subsequent moral dilemma) that sits at the center of the plot. As is habitual for the character, Dawson is animated and engaging and generally funny. Then, a weird thing happens – he is approached from the periphery by an unknown figure, and he rears back as though he’s going to hit this guy. The guy scampers away, never to be seen again, and Dawson just as quickly returns back to being animated, engaging, and hilarious. It’s a brief exchange – ten seconds at most – but it reminds viewers of an essential truth about people; one group’s gregarious soul might be another’s feared individual.

This has made me learn a little bit about Nickelback, naturally.

I’ll be very honest. I can’t stand Nickelback. Their music does nothing for me, and after several years in the limelight, I’ve come to understand that their music will do nothing for me - pretty much ever.

That said, there are people out there who love Nickelback. (I’m willing to wager that someone, somewhere will read the above paragraph and think to themselves, “not love Nickelback? That’s unpossible.” To that person, let me clarify something: I know that you like Nickelback. I don’t.) It’s okay to like Nickelback, I think. There’s an appeal to them; I suppose there’s an entire legion of people who enjoy having the soundtrack to their workday be indistinguishable from that of a strip club laden with C-section-scarred muffin-topped “nude models.” Good for them. It’s not for me.

I look at pictures of Nickelback (I won’t provide them here – use Google Image Search), and I see the clique of guys who used to threaten to beat me up in high school. They look like bullies. But, you know what? For that split-second in “Dazed and Confused,” viewers were given a glimpse of the otherwise-awesome Don Dawson as a bully. It makes looking at a band of nu-metal goons somewhat sympathetic; in thinking of Nickelback in these terms, it makes me understand that there’s an entire world that they represent which I’ll probably never have access to, in which these guys are magnetic, affable centres-of-attention.

So, perhaps Nickelback don’t – to paraphrase the great Brodie Bruce (of “Mallrats” fame) – “look like date rapists.” And maybe they are good guys, and probably aren’t the type to dose unsuspecting cheerleader-wannabes with Rohyphnol on their tour bus. I don’t know, and never will.

That doesn’t change the fact that they consistently churn out faceless, derivative metal music that makes goons like Creed look positively, radiantly charismatic in comparison. Nickelback’s music is a wholly unoriginal concoction of pre-watered down ingredients; it takes, as a starting point, Pearl Jam’s first two albums – which were, in and of themselves a combination of Doors, Led Zeppelin, and Black Sabbath – and strip away the charisma of Pearl Jam lead singer Eddie Vedder, replacing it with the aw-shucks blandness of Chad Kroeger. And yes, I’m saying that Nickelback sounds like Pearl Jam. And yes, I like Pearl Jam, but I don’t like Nickelback – and here’s why? Pearl Jam, even in their early, formative years, wore their influences on their sleeves – their music was influenced by acts ranging from the Beatles to the aforementioned Doors-Led Zeppelin-Black Sabbath trio, but they never overtly sounded like they were trying to be them. Instead, Pearl Jam sounded like they were a good band that took bits that they liked from those bands. Nickelback’s blandness can be attributed to the fact that they try to sound like the bands that they love. There’s a big difference, and credit is due to those who can see it.

Then, there are people who love Nickelback. People who tear up every time Chad Kroeger croaks “how the hell’d we wind up like this.” People who found their video for “If Everybody Cared” profound. People who vote incessantly for the band on VH1 countdown shows. These people exist. And you know what? That’s fine. I hope the dudes in 3 Doors Down are okay with you moving on, though.

The Yankees In Crisis, or, Why It's Okay For The Bronx Bombers To (Gasp) Not Make The Playoffs

2007-08-22T10:05:00.001-07:00

What is a crisis?

Well, the Chinese character weiji, which has long been translated as the English word “crisis,” can be translated into two parts: wei, which means “danger” or “peril,” and ji, which has long been mistranslated as meaning “opportunity,” but actually translates as something more like “turning point.”

Based on that bit of information, it seems as though we could develop a basic description of a crisis as the danger that one faces at a turning point. Yes, it’s a simplification, but let’s go with it; and based on this simplification, I’m going to make a big, broad generalization about baseball: The Yankees are at a crisis point.

As of this morning, the Yankees currently sit in second place, six games back from the first-place Boston Red Sox in the race for the American League East division title. They also sit two and a half games behind the Seattle Mariners in the race for the American League Wild Card, which would give them a backdoor entry into the playoffs. This is neither a season-long high, nor a low, for the Yankees; they have been as far back as twelve games back from the Red Sox, and they have been in first-place in the Wild Card chase.

What makes this a crisis point for the Yankees (and yes, I’m well aware that my use of the word “crisis” in the terms of a baseball season trivializes true crises such as, say, Darfur, but hey, such are the foibles of language) is their current schedule and how they are responding to it. After having spent the better part of the month of July and beginning of August amassing an impressive record against a number of sub-par teams, and (for the first time all season) building up their confidence, the Yankees are now at the beginning of a stretch where they’re going to be playing the best teams in baseball (the American League West-leading Angels, as well as the aforementioned Red Sox and Mariners).

How’s it going so far? Not well. The Yankees lost their first two games of this stretch to the Angels; the first, a demoralizing extra-innings loss, and last night’s utter shellacking to the tune of 18-9 (including a sick 10 runs batted in from Angels outfielder Garret Anderson). Which begs the question – where do the Yankees go from here?

From my point of view, there’s three possible scenarios.

Scenario 1: The Yankees catch fire, buoyed by a motivation reminiscent of the way the Indians played in the original “Major League” movie (although, hopefully without having to strip away pieces of clothing from a cutout of their owner in the buff). Players who have been struggling this year (Mike Mussina, I’m looking at you) catch fire, and everybody contributes. The Yankees win the bulk of their games from here out, and take the division by a solid 3 games en route to their first championship in seven years.

Scenario 2: The Yankees play just over .500 ball through this gauntlet of good teams, and do especially well in their games against teams like Detroit and Seattle, which gives them a solid lead in the hunt for the Wild Card by mid-September. Some struggles continue, but none so terrible that they can’t be overcome by hot hitters – which the Yankees continue to have in spades. They make the playoffs, and by then, it’s anybody’s guess.

Scenario 3: Playing these good teams exposes the Yankees’ fatal flaws: an over-reliance on older, erratic pitching, bats that have been streaky all season, and the infusion of young talent that has boosted the Yankees over the past month fades. The Yankees finish out of the running for the playoffs.

This may sound weird, but you know what I’m rooting for? (And keep in mind that I’m a Yankees fan from the Bronx who has lived and died with their successes.) I’m kind of rooting for Scenario #3 here.

I don’t know if it’s possible for me to be a bigger fan of the Yankees’ youth movement. Joba Chamberlain, Phil Hughes, Shelley Duncan, Melky Cabrera, and Robinson Cano have all been extremely fun to watch. However, I can’t help but think that a playoff push might not be the best thing for them at this juncture in time. Young arms like Chamberlain and Hughes, who have never really seen an expanse of innings at the level that a major league regular season requires, are probably ill-prepared for the extensive workload that comes with the playoffs; this would be fine if these two weren’t so needed for such a run. However, they are. As a fan, if it comes between overworking these pitcher’s arms and having them flame out or getting them some rest and having them be major contributors for the next decade and beyond, I’ll take 10 years over 1 any day. As for Duncan, Cabrera, and Cano – well, it’s been extremely interesting watching these three turn into behind-the-scenes sparkplugs and on-field players this season; that said, I can’t help but think that part of the reason that they’ve become so prominent in this role is because of the Yankees’ current status as second-place residents. If they’re so motivated by this now, imagine how much stronger their motivation will be next year, after a year out of the playoffs? Failure can be extremely motivating.

Additionally, the brief successes of the youth movement this season should provide Yankees upper management with ample motivation to build around the youth of this team; why should the team spend money on established “stars” if they can get equal production and a bigger spark from younger, homegrown talent? Message boards are abuzz with the potential of young talent with names like Jose Tabata, Eric Duncan, Bronson Sardinha, Ian Kennedy, Alan Horne, and Andrew Brackman – why not work towards giving these kids a shot, while at the same time shedding the extraneous salaries of over-the-hill players? When the Yankees won their first World Championship of the 1990s, in 1996, it was with then-youthful players like Andy Pettitte, Jorge Posada, Derek Jeter, and Bernie Williams at the helm. Most of them didn’t win in their first year, but instead built up a head of steam from the rougher years that preceded it.

The Yankees could benefit from a rougher year, I think. It’s all in how you look at the turning point that is at the crux of this particular crisis.

Forthcoming: Movies We're Excited About

2007-08-19T07:41:00.000-07:00

Thanks to the miracle of YouTube, we can point you towards some movie trailers that hint at good things to come...to a theater near you.

Be Kind Rewind (due January 2008)
Stars Jack Black and Mos Def as two video store clerks who inadvertently erase every tape in their store, and make up for it by creating their own versions of the films. Michel Gondry (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Dave Chappelle's Block Party) directs.

Harold and Kumar 2 (due 2008)
John Cho and Kal Penn revisit their characters from the hilarious Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle. This could either be really bad, or really awesome. We're hoping for awesome.

Walk Hard (due December 2007)
John C. Reilly stars as Dewey Cox in this parody of musical biopics like Ray and Walk The Line, co-written by Judd Apatow (see my post on Superbad). Also stars Jenna Fischer (The Office), and features cameos from Jack White (of the White Stripes, as Elvis Presley) and Paul Rudd (from Anchorman and the 40 Year Old Virgin, as John Lennon).

The Playlist: August, 2007

2007-08-18T17:03:00.001-07:00

Here's what we're listening to this week - songs that are providing our personal soundtrack as we skip merrily through our daily existence, as it were.

1. "This Time Tomorrow," The Kinks
- Growing up, my parents (my mom, especially), took great pains to expose us to the culture that influenced them. As a result, I grew up somewhat conversant in the music of the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Peter Paul & Mary, and Bob Dylan. One of the great pleasures of getting older (for me) has been discovering the music that existed on the periphery of my mom's tastes. The Kinks are one of those bands - every time I hear something that's new to my ears from them, I slap my head and think, "these guys are awesome." This song appears in the aforementioned trailer to "The Darjeeling Limited."

2. "I Wait For You," Yume Bitsu
- I'd never heard of this band before checking out this song, a seven-plus minute feedback-laden gem reminiscent of the best guitar work of My Bloody Valentine virtuoso Kevin Shields. Apparently, Yume Bitsu are from Portland. Their name means "dream beats" in Japanese, and this song is dreamy - in the sense of sleep-dreams, not in the sense of Bobby Sherman and Peter Tork. Very cinematic and sweeping. Check it out.

3. "Throw Your Arms Around Me," Luka Bloom
- Originally written by Australian songwriter Mark Seymour for his band Hunters and Collectors, and most notably covered by Pearl Jam, "Throw Your Arms Around Me" is that rarest of tunes - playful and genuine without being sappy. I'm partial to Luka Bloom's atmospheric take on the tune, which benefits from simple acoustic guitar work and the singer's rich, Irish brogue.

4. "The Underdog," Spoon
While I genuinely liked Spoon's last album (Kill The Moonlight), its bare-bones production made me wonder what the band would sound like with more fleshed-out production. This song is the answer - with booming drums, sighing background vocals, and a horn section, this is a veritable orchestra in comparison to the last album. Genuinely cool.

5. "Then She Appeared," XTC
Some music from the late 80s and early 90s sounds very dated. Not this. Those keening guitars at the beginning of the song let you know you are, as the Loving Spoonful once sang, "into something good." XTC lead singer Andy Partridge is notorious for his stagefright; fortunately, the care with which tracks like this were crafted let you know that the man took serious care in the studio. Lovely and amazing.

Beating The Drum For: Wall Decorations

2007-08-16T07:33:00.000-07:00

For a long time, we’ve been against the idea of a blank wall – whether it’s in our cubicle at work, or on any of the walls in our home, we’ve long felt that the most inviting spaces are well-decorated walls.

Framed family photos are always nice, but sometimes you want to be distinctive and different, right? Well, here are a few things we like as some quirky alternative ideas.

Etsy.com is a marketplace for sellers of handmade goods to directly sell to people across the country. We’re partial to the surrealistic children’s book-style prints of AshleyG, as well as the digital art of JohnWGolden (and, as long as the topic is Etsy, we’d be remiss not to mention the hand-made crafts of our old NYC pal Erika Kern, who works under the name My Imaginary Boyfriend).

One of the cooler things to happen in rock music lately has been the tendency of bands to commission limited-edition lithograph print posters for concerts. They make for great collectibles – half “I was there” concert memorabilia, half “art.” We have a beautiful Wilco poster that we picked up at a 2004 show in Saratoga; for more examples of great Wilco posters, click their online store here. R.E.M., who we’re also quite partial to, has also commissioned some pretty awesome posters, which are available on their online store at remhq.com. Do yourself a favor – check out your own favorite band’s sites to see what they’ve done. You might surprise yourself.

Also cool? Go to EBay and search for foreign movie posters. Earlier this year, we picked up a vintage Italian-language “Blues Brothers” one sheet. The title loosely translates to “Slaves To A Rhythm.” Head over and see what strikes your fancy.

Meandering Thoughts: Phil Rizzuto, 1917-2007

2007-08-14T09:25:00.000-07:00

Phil Rizzuto died today at the age of 89.

Without being too melodramatic about it, Rizzuto was a major voice of my childhood. I grew up in the Bronx, ten subway stops away from Yankee Stadium. While my dad wasn’t really a Yankees fan per se, he and I shared a love of baseball, and so it was inevitable that we would spin the dial on our television to WPIX, Channel 11, and watch Yankees games.

It was the voice of Phil Rizzuto, supplemented by the gentlemanly Bill White, who would serve as the primary descriptor of some pretty terrible Yankees teams. I don’t know if many folks from my area would have had the love affair they had with the Yankees were it not for him, in fact. His nasal tenor voice, suffused with streetwise Italian affectation, and general good humor made it easier for kids like me to appreciate the play of otherwise-lackluster players like Alvaro Espinoza, Paul Zuvella, Steve Balboni, and Wayne Tolleson.

A lot of people will no doubt, in paying tribute to the man that the Yankees lovingly referred to as “The Scooter” (to the point where the mascot of the short-season Single ! Staten Island Yankees farm team is Scooter “the holy” Cow), refer to Rizzuto’s many malaprops in the broadcasting booth – the man would often say things like, “Nobody’s going to get to that ball, holy cow, he got it.” You know what? Things like that may not have been “accurate,” but they genuinely reflected the thoughts of the average baseball fan. The Scooter was good like that – he’d ask dumb questions, get confused sometimes, and would contradict himself – but isn’t that really just human nature? He gave voice to the average baseball fan, and will forever be adored for that.

Other things that are relevant about Phil Rizzuto: he was the 1950 American League MVP, he was the key shortstop on the Yankees championship teams of the fifties, he is in the Baseball Hall of Fame (in one of the most debated inductions in the game’s history), and the Yankees retired his number. He (allegedly inadvertently) provided play-by-play for a young man’s amorous affections in Meat Loaf’s classic song “Paradise By The Dashboard Light,” and the spelling of his name in the movie “Billy Madison” showed that Adam Sandler’s titular character had no idea how to write a script z. I’m not going to pay too much attention to those details; I never saw the man play, and the rest of it kind of speaks for itself.

I will say this – I will miss that voice. I mean, he hasn’t broadcasted for more than ten years, and I’ve missed that voice. I mean, for years, it was well known that Rizzuto would leave each game he’d broadcast in the seventh inning so that he could beat the traffic over the George Washington Bridge heading back to his home in New Jersey. Anyone else would have been raked over the coals for this, but for Rizzuto, this was an eccentricity that only led to people loving him more.

Rizzuto may not have been the most erudite, booksmart person to have ever stepped behind a microphone, but he made up for it by being endearing and sweet. His was a distinctive voice, and will always remind me of a time when I would sit and watch baseball with my dad and only have to worry about whether my homework was done.

Rest in peace, Scooter.

Forthcoming: "I'm Not There"

2007-08-12T16:57:00.001-07:00

So, buzz is building for Todd Haynes's upcoming film "I'm Not There."

It's an interesting concept: the life of Bob Dylan with the lead role being played by several different actors - including the unconventional casting of female Cate Blanchett and African-American youth Marcus Carl Franklin, as well as the more conventional (read: male, Caucasian) Ben Whishaw, Heath Ledger, Richard Gere, and Christian Bale.

I'm not sure how I feel about this. On one hand, I've come to understand how compelling a figure Bob Dylan was in the 1960s and early 1970s, through D.A. Pennebaker's contemporaneous documentary film "Don't Look Back" and then through Martin Scorcese's retrospective "No Direction Home," and I'm a pretty big fan of his music.

However, I'm not a big fan of mythmaking - and, if anything, having seven actors play the same, very real person (including Blanchett and Franklin) suggests the propagation of the myth of Dylan as someone who transcends the corporeal. Which I don't think is a good thing, necessary. We're very fortunate to have the music of Dylan, which in and of itself serves to transcend the singer (in the manner of songs, which in being performed by different singers, extend beyond the original composer/singer, as well as in the recordings, which - once committed to tape - become, in a way, immortal). Does Bob Dylan need to become a part of American mythology? Is he already? It's hard to tell.

Related:
The soundtrack tracklisting has been released. I don't know what order the tracks are in. It'd be kind of interesting if the songs are in alphabetic order. That'd be kind of rad, actually.

“All Along The Watchtower” :: Eddie Vedder & The Million Dollar Bashers
“As I Went Out One Morning” :: Mira Billotte
“Ballad Of A Thin Man” :: Stephen Malkmus & The Million Dollar Bashers
“Billy” :: Los Lobos
“Can You Please Crawl Out Your Window” :: The Hold Steady
“Can’t Leave Her Behind” :: Stephen Malkmus & Lee Ranaldo
“Cold Irons Bound” :: Tom Verlaine & The Million Dollar Bashers
“Dark Eyes” :: Iron & Wine & Calexico
“Fourth Time Around” :: Yo La Tengo
“Goin’ To Acapulco” :: Jim James & Calexico
“Highway 61 Revisited” :: Karen O & The Million Dollar Bashers
“I Wanna Be Your Lover” :: Yo La Tengo
“I’m Not There” :: Bob Dylan
“I’m Not There” :: Sonic Youth
“Just Like A Woman” :: Charlotte Gainsbourg & Calexico
“Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues” :: Ramblin’ Jack Elliot
“Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door” :: Antony & The Johnsons
“The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll” :: Mason Jennings
“Maggie’s Farm” :: Stephen Malkmus & The Million Dollar Bashers
“Mama You’ve Been On My Mind” :: Jack Johnson
“The Man In The Long Black Coat” :: Mark Lanegan
“Moonshiner” :: Bob Forrest
“One More Cup Of Coffee” :: Roger McGuinn & Calexico
“Pressing On” :: John Doe
“Ring Them Bells” :: Sufjan Stevens
“Señor (Tales Of Yankee Power)” :: Willie Nelson & Calexico
“Simple Twist Of Fate” :: Jeff Tweedy
“Stuck Inside Of Mobile With Memphis Blues Again” :: Cat Power
“The Times They Are A Changin’” :: Mason Jennings
“Tombstone Blues” :: Richie Havens
“When The Ship Comes In” :: Marcus Carl Franklin
“Wicked Messenger” :: The Black Keys
“You Ain’t Goin ‘Nowhere” :: Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova

[The "Million Dollar Bashers" are -
Lee Ranaldo (Sonic Youth), guitars
Tony Garnier (longtime Dylan collaborator), bass
Tom Verlaine (Television), guitars
Nels Cline (Wilco), guitars
Smokey Hormel (Dylan, Beck), guitars
Steve Shelley (Sonic Youth), drums
John Medeski (Medeski, Martin, and Wood), keyboards]

Much respect to The Playlist for the soundtrack info.

"Superbad" - A Review

2007-08-10T09:51:00.000-07:00

[Note: Thanks to the munificence of Mr. Javen Bohall and Mr. Paul Hoff, we were fortunate to see an advance screening of “Superbad” in Latham, NY last night. This movie does not enter theaters for another week. This review will not contain any spoilers beyond that which is has been provided for online viewing through YouTube.com; however, if you have not been exposed to this, you might want to stop reading here.]

Way back in the summer of 1999, when the country was gripped with pre-millenium angst and dot-coms ruled Wall Street, writer Adam Herz and directors Chris and Paul Weitz created a movie that reintroduced the concept of the R-rated teen comedy to American audiences. The name of the movie was “American Pie,” of course, and it reminded viewers that modern-era teenagers could be as raunchy and hilarious as their counterparts in films like “Porky’s” and “Fast Times At Ridgemont High” a generation prior. The key to the $100 million-plus success of “American Pie,” however, was its essential sweetness – the characters in this film all had redeeming qualities, even the bullies. In “American Pie,” a character like Seann William Scott’s Stifler could do something completely heinous like dose another character’s mocha-chino with laxative, but wound up being embraced as a friend by his peers (and the audience) by the time his story was completed.

The comedic minds behind two recent entries into the pantheon of rewatchably hilarious movies (that would be “The 40 Year Old Virgin” and “Knocked Up”) have dipped their pool into the R-rated teen comedy with the new release “Superbad.” The film comes with an impressive pedigree: while it’s the teen-film directing debut of Greg Mottola, he’s worked on cult television series like “Arrested Development” and “Undeclared.” Additionally, the film features behind-the-scenes input from the genius Judd Apatow (who produces) and newly-minted comedy star Seth Rogen (who co-wrote the movie as well as taking on a supporting part). While this is not any of these people’s first efforts at capturing the teenage dynamic (most of the above were involved in television shows like “Freaks and Geeks” and “Undeclared”), this is their first go-around in the realm of the teenage-themed motion picture.

Needless to say, “Superbad” scores on just about every level. The plot is simple: three high-school-senior losers – nervous, brainy Evan (Michael Cera), gregarious, talkative Seth (Jonah Hill), and insanely dweeby Fogell (Christopher Mintz-Plasse) hatch a plan to purchase alcohol with a fake identification card. Their hope is that, with this alcohol, they can get some girls drunk enough to want to have sex. That’s the main plot: get drunk, get laid. That’s just about it. It seems simple, but that’s pretty much all that they need for approximately 2 hours of hilarity, spurred on by early encounters in school with girls (led by Emma Stone and Martha McIsaac) and then heightened through interactions with two area policemen (Rogen and “Saturday Night Live” player Bill Hader). The simple plot of the movie succeeds because of the utter originality of Rogen and Evan Goldberg’s script, which avoids a great deal of teen-movie clichés and instead takes viewers on a completely original, absurd journey.

The actors are pitch-perfect in this film. Cera’s Evan character is a logical extension of his previous signature role, that of George-Michael Bluth in the late, lamented “Arrested Development” – he retains that character’s stuttery, low-key delivery but adds an edge that’s pretty much commensurate with any sex-and-booze obsessed teenager. As Seth, Jonah Hill is a revelation; he shouts and throws himself around with an abandon remiscent of the finest hours of the late Chris Farley. This movie marks the acting debut of Christopher Mintz-Plasse, who hits a home run – his Fogell is so hilarious and well-rounded that it’s already hard to see him topping this; it’s the kind of definitive role that may well completely define his entire acting career. Hader and Rogen are funny, but their absurdist antics ultimately take a backseat to the teens, who center this movie completely.

In an interesting touch, director Mottola decided to score the film with funk and soul nuggets (the score is performed by a band led by Bootsy Collins) rather than a more current soundtrack – it adds a quirky element to the film that’s somewhat endearing, although I could see some finding it off-putting. Mottola does generally fine work; this is not an auteur’s movie, and generally avoids subtlety for big laughs. The movie does suffer from a mid-way lapse of energy, but is otherwise fun.

Is this film a new “American Pie?” Ultimately, and thankfully, it is not. “American Pie” is suffused with the optimism and naivete of youth, where “Superbad” is infinitely more cynical – it’s a teen movie for people who have survived their own teenaged years and are ready to look back through an unimpeded, non-smoky lens. It’s very funny and well-done, and I highly recommend it.

Meandering Thoughts: On Turning 30.

2007-08-08T12:49:00.001-07:00

In 1984, one of my favorite bands, R.E.M., released their second album – called “Reckoning,” it was an energized blast of jangle-and-stomp rock and roll. Lead singer Michael Stipe spent the bulk of the album obscuring words and half-phrases; from what I can understand, it was considered “cool” to try to decipher R.E.M. lyrics at that period in time. Anyway, one of the few phrases that could be understood on that album came at the beginning of the album’s last song, “Little America,” as the then-24 year old Stipe hollered, “I don’t see myself at 30/I don’t buy a lacquered 30.”

Initially, this was interpreted as the determinably-obscure Stipe’s version of the rock-and-roll clarion call, “I hope I die before I get old,” which continues to echo over the airwaves of classic rock radio in the attitudes and poses of acts from Buddy Holly to Nirvana. However, as Stipe got older, he backed away from that attitude, saying that – for him, it wasn’t a case of not living until he was 30, but rather, it was about not remaining preserved as he got older and older – not being “lacquered” like a fly in amber for view, but enjoying the flux that comes as part of life’s rich pageant.

Well, today is my thirtieth birthday. It may seem like a nothing milestone to some folks, but heck, I’ve never been thirty before, so it’s a little weird for me. Like Michael Stipe, when I was 24, I couldn’t see myself at 30, and I sure as shoot didn’t want to be preserved for display, with my best work behind me. I also didn’t want to ever be like any of the characters in the television show “Thirtysomething,” who, in my limited exposure to the television show, I found generally whiny and neurotic without ever really seeming anything other than privileged and bratty. Also, I wasn’t crazy about that show’s abuse of denim shirts, processed hair, and pleated khakis.

Since my exposure to those two touchstones, I’ve learned a few things. I’ve learned that life will always be vital if you allow it to be – if you stop moving, and stop trying, you’re all but doomed to the lacquered, preserved 30 of as seen in “Thirtysomething” where you can’t see the forest for the upper-class trees. I’d like to say that I’ve learned to embrace the struggle, but I’m still working on that. But, as best as I can figure, that’s just as good as anything else.

Forthcoming: A BoomThwackBoom Exclusive

2007-08-06T18:19:00.002-07:00

Good news, dear readers. Through back channels, we have been able to gain a reviewer's copy of the second-most anticipated book of the literary year. (The concluding volume of J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter" series being the obvious number one on such a list.)

Though the book doesn't hit shelves until October, we're stoked to have an advance galley of Alice Sebold's followup to the mesmerizing bestseller "The Lovely Bones." ("The Lovely Bones" was on the New York Times Bestseller List for over a year, and it is currently being made into a movie by little-known Australian filmmaker Peter Jackson, who might be best known for an art-house trilogy called "Lord of the Rings." )

The title of Sebold's latest is "The Almost Moon," and it will be reviewed here shortly.

We may not be the second coming of Michiko Kakutani, but hopefully, we'll be able to relay some interesting information about the book

300: To Victory

2007-08-06T09:30:00.000-07:00

Quite a weekend for baseball, no?

For those of you who live under a rock, baseball – the American sport which most relies on its past for its current sense of status – experienced quite a historic weekend. Within the span of two days, San Francisco Giants outfielder Barry Bonds hit his 755th home run (which tied Hank Aaron for the most career round-trippers), New York Yankees third baseman Alex Rodriguez hit his 500th home run (setting the record for the youngest in baseball history to such a milestone), and New York Mets pitcher Tom Glavine won his 300th game.

I’m going to set aside the home run-based achievements for the time being, and focus on Glavine winning number 300. Glavine’s win against the Cubs last night marked the 23rd time in baseball history a pitcher has reached this milestone, and only the 5th time in the history of the game that a left-handed starter has made it to 300. It’s a tremendous achievement, one that should absolutely be applauded – after all, it’s a triumph based in both longevity, team strength, and personal dominance. Glavine’s been a healthy, front-line starter who produces time and time again, and for that alone, he warrants every breath of praise that he’ll receive.

Yet, I turned off the television last night with a bad taste in my mouth. Why? If I could trace my feeling of disgust to one thing, it would be the constant speculation, by both the broadcasting team responsible for the game as well as the analysts on SportsCenter, that Glavine was “the last 300 game winner.” I found this speculation terribly irresponsible, and I think it unnecessarily overshadowed what should have been a moment of unadulterated triumph for Glavine.

I understand that the current statistics point to no pitchers achieving this milestone any time soon. The next closest to 300 wins is Arizona Diamondbacks starter Randy Johnson, who may be perpetually mired at 283 wins due to chronic back injuries. More than half of the current starters with 200 wins are forty-plus years old and, as such, unlikely to make it through another 100 starts, let alone 100 wins.

However, and especially in the sport of baseball, saying the words “never again” is an act of myopic foolishness. And those were the words that were thrown about over and over again by ESPN analysts Jon Miller and Joe Morgan. (I’m not surprised about Morgan’s arrogance about this – I could go on and on about his commentary, which tends to veer into the land of insane rambling on a regular basis.)

300 wins might seem undoable right now, but you know what? The first pitcher to reach this milestone did so in 1888. This means that the achievement has only been done 23 times in 119 years – and we’ve seen 3 pitchers get there over the last 4 years (Roger Clemens, now of the Yankees, and Greg Maddux, now of the Padres, are the other two). Here’s another fun stat – did you know that there were no 300 game winners between the years of 1963 (Early Wynn) and 1982 (Gaylord Perry)? That’s a span of 19 years that bridged the Kennedy and Reagan administrations! At the end of the 1963 season, Gaylord Perry had precisely 4 career wins.
Look, perhaps Tom Glavine’s win is the end of an era of achievement for starting pitching. Yes, relief pitching is a more dominant force than it was, say, ten years ago, and pitching has become a more specialized art form. However, unless they’re eliminating the statistic of the win altogether, nobody should ever be counted out. Just as records are made to be broken, milestones are made to be met.

Beating The Drum For: "World War Z," by Max Brooks

2007-08-05T17:50:00.000-07:00

I've never been much for science-fiction. It's a dislike that can probably be traced to having shared a room growing up with my older brother, who has been an unabashed sci-fi geek for the better part of 25 years. I've never really had any patience for the smug self-satisfaction of books, movies, and television shows that seemed (to me, at least) to be all about the cleverness of its creators in creating fantastical worlds. As a reader and a viewer, I've always been about the nuances of the current world. I would rather partake of something straightforward and relatable instead of a pained, extended allegory set in an imaginary world.

That's why the science fiction I have been drawn to in the past (most notably, the brilliant movie "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind") have taken a different approach: they've used the modern world as a setting for fantastical - but relatable - stories. Max Brooks's "World War Z" is a book that takes this path. Like the brilliant British movie "Shaun of the Dead," it approaches a science-fiction staple - a zombie attack - from a perspective that is utterly human.

The book follows a simple conceit: it traces a war of humans vs. zombies as an "oral history," told in the words of survivors around the world. Brooks creates a wide variety of characters, all of whom are definitively human and separate - the soldiers speak in the grunted shorthand of soldiers, the artists offer perspectives that are assuredly artistic; cultural touchstones ranging from Adam Sandler to the oddly aristocratic ways that American celebrities have assumed are all present, much as they are in a normal world.

The human aspect is what makes "World War Z" such a compelling read (I devoured it over the course of two lazy weekend days). In the credits, author Brooks offers some hints as to where this unique perspective comes from - he thanks his Dad for "the human factor," and then, touchingly uses the last page to say, simply, "I love you, mom."

In this case, "Dad" is the great Mel Brooks, and the mother whom he pays tribute to is the late, great Anne Bancroft.

With or without such lineage, though, "World War Z" is a tremendously compelling read. I recommend it highly.

In Defense Of: Stone Temple Pilots

2007-08-02T08:30:00.000-07:00

I was thinking about it the other day – and, you know what? I think that the Stone Temple Pilots got a bum rap in the 1990s from music writers, myself included. They were treated like Salman Rushdie following the publication of "The Satanic Verses," and it's like a fatwa was issued by the Ayatollahs of the music industry - you know, "bring me the heads of Scott Weiland, Eric Kreutz, and the DeLeo brothers."

In fairness, it was easy to bash the Stone Temple Pilots. In an era where bands were rewarded for years slugging it away in the trenches, Stone Temple Pilots emerged from just about nowhere and seemed to piggyback on the successes of similar-sounding bands like Pearl Jam and Soundgarden. Righteous indignation, in all fairness, seemed like the way to go when protesting the band’s successes; I mean, are you going to root for the band that built its way up from playing in front of 5 people in a dusky club, or are you going to root for the band that seems like a carbon copy of that band without the dues-paying?

As a result, Stone Temple Pilots got massacred for their perceived sins. The uber-credible Pavement (on one of the catchiest songs, “Range Life,” from what is disputably their best album, “Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain”) riffed on them, saying “Stone Temple Pilots, they’re eligible bachelors, they’re foxy to me – are they foxy to you? I don’t understand what they mean, and I could really give a fuck.” The most crushing blow, though, was the Spin magazine review of the band’s second album. (I tried to find it online, but had no success.) From what I can recall – and bear with me, as we’re talking something I read 12 or 13 years ago, the album was reviewed by Rob Sheffield and he slammed the album with a mercilessness that reminded me of the speech uttered by the great comedy writer Jim Downey, playing the Academic Decathlon Judge in the movie “Billy Madison”:

“…what you've just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I've ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response was there anything that could even be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.”

It was pretty merciless.

I piled on, too – when I was in college, I wrote a weekly music column for a paper, and I regularly slammed Scott Weiland’s lyrics (which were terrible, admittedly – I mean, “her name is what it means” – it’s not good. I mean, it’s not Anthony Kiedis bad, but it’s not good). What can I say? They were easy to pick on.

However, time has been kind to the Stone Temple Pilots. By the time they released their third studio album, they seemed to shed their poseur label a bit, releasing themselves of grunge-rock pretension and even showing off a sense of humor (the video for “Big Bang Baby,” the first single from that album, was a hilarious dig at early-80s MTV staples). They never really gained that sense of once-necessary credibility, although Scott Weiland’s string of drug-related arrests over the course of the past two decades served to tragically provide them with an edge that hadn’t been there prior (at least publically). That being said, at least two of their songs have withstood the test of time and have made it to constant rotation on classic rock radio formats (“Plush” and “Interstate Love Song”), and for good reason – they’re crazily catchy songs that are quite good.

I think that the best thing that could have happened for the music of the Stone Temple Pilots was the end of the credibility-obsessed nineties. By the time the decade ended, pre-fabricated, insubstantial acts like Ricky Martin and the Backstreet Boys were dominating pop radio. This marginalized so-called modern rock bands in terms of airplay on top-40 radio and the video music channels. It slowed the flood of mediocre grunge-rock bands to the point where one would be lucky if they heard any guitars at all on these mainstream channels. It also unleashed bands that had even less credibility than Stone Temple Pilots – bands like Nickelback, Puddle of Mudd, and Limp Bizkit rose to prominence. Scott Weiland is a polarizing figure in music, but when placed next to folks like Chad Kroger and Fred Durst, he looks like the picture of credibility, durability, and quality.

Stone Temple Pilots’ music is better suited to a classic-rock format, anyway. When you place a song like “Interstate Love Song” in between bands like Styx and Journey, issues like credibility fade away. It becomes all about the music, really, which is (when you think about it logically) what music should be all about. If loving the songs are wrong, then I don’t want to ever be right. I take back what I said. My fatwa has been rescinded.

Comments

2007-07-31T17:08:00.001-07:00

Comments should be enabled now.

Man, I'm kind of embarrassed by how hard this has been.

King Barry

2007-07-31T12:34:00.000-07:00

Someday, probably soon, San Francisco Giants left fielder Barry Bonds will hit his 756th career home run. This is not an implausible thought at all; he has, after all, already hit 754 of these, and barring a catastrophic injury involving (but not limited to) something on the level of the severing of his carotid artery, he will hit 2 more home runs.

There’s a lot of controversy about this, for some reason. A lot of this commotion is based on the speculation that Barry Bonds knowingly used illegal, steroid-based performance-enhancing substances. Did he definitively use these? He has admitted to unwittingly using a cream-based steroid, noting that he thought it was flaxseed oil. Aside from that, though, he’s admitted to nothing else. Circumstantial evidence – clubhouse rumors, speculation from authors ranging from the journalistically-credibly Jeff Perlman to the morally-shaky Jose Canseco, and the kind of visual evidence available to everybody (comparing pictures of a rookie-era Bonds to a current-day photo) – abounds.

I will say this: Barry Bonds probably used steroids.

You know what? That’s okay.

Well, it’s probably not okay on the grand scale of things. The long-term drawbacks of steroid use are only now becoming known, and the odds are high that their use will provide definitive ramifications for users, including the shrinking of testicles and potentially higher risk for cancer. Also, the use of steroids is a crime; Bonds testified that he’d never unwittingly used them, and if this proves him to be a liar, then he’s probably due for a stretch in prison.

However, between the foul lines, I don’t think that Barry Bonds was necessarily wrong. From all accounts, baseball, for the better part of the last two decades, has created an environment in which players were all but encouraged to use performance enhancers. (This was probably true in all major professional sports – we’re probably fifty years or two generations removed from culpability before we’ll see how widespread it was.) Baseball did not provide punishment for players using the steroids, and celebrated the achievements of players widely speculated to have been using such substances. The era of permissibility created a grey area of epic proportions; it was in this grey area that players like Bonds flourished.

As baseball fans, we have to come to terms with the steroid era. This is not a choice. We have to. This is not as easy as it sounds. It means taking your favorite players – for me, it’s any Yankee from the championship run between 1996 and 2000 – and coming to grips with the fact that they might have played dirty. Sure, a player like Curt Schilling might come out and say that he didn’t use steroids; however, unless we can see a lifetime of negative tests, then that player can not escape suspicion. It’s a sad but ultimately necessary designation that must accompany every single player from that era.

Ultimately, it’s no different from assuming that every major leaguer who lived as an adult through prohibition made it to a speakeasy, or that every major leaguer who could possibly partake of the amphetamines widely available in every clubhouse did. In those situations, the culture made it permissible. Would players have played the game better if they hadn’t been partaking of illegal alcohol, or would they have played the game worse if they hadn’t been hopped up on greenies? Possibly, and possibly. The answer, just like it is for steroids, is that we’ll never know.

Baseball should be all about celebrating the achievements that occur on the field. While we can never assume a lily-pure culture, we can look at what we do know: the numbers. Barry Bonds will hit his 756th home run, and it will be something special – because nobody in the colorful, storied, muddy history of Major League Baseball has ever done that before.

Now, will I (personally) cheer Barry Bonds? Probably not. If I’ve learned anything about Bonds from years of following his exploits from Pittsburgh to San Francisco, it’s that Bonds is a selfish, churly individual with the likeability quotient of a boot full of dog poo. There are definitely better people out there who could set the home run record. But that’s my opinion. If you feel differently and decide that you should cheer him, then, by all means, cheer him.

He’s been the best of his time, and with that in mind, he’s earned it. Records are made to be broken. The king is dead. Long live the king.

Granted, I think the king has no clothes, but again, that's my opinion.

Doesn't mean he's not the king.

Beating The Drum For: The Films Of Wes Anderson

2007-07-30T09:45:00.001-07:00

We have a deep reservoir of affection for the films of Wes Anderson.

Since his emergence in 1996 with the film “Bottle Rocket,” a film which launched the prolific acting careers of Owen and Luke Wilson and heralded a return to form for James Caan, Anderson has made several tremendous films.

We understand that Anderson’s films may not be for everybody. As a screenwriter and filmmaker, Anderson tends towards the pretentious, and we can see how people might be overwhelmed by the stylistic quirks which dominate his films. He’s either your cup of tea or he’s not.

We happen to love Anderson for the way he uses music to underscore character interactions – whether it’s having Jason Schwartzman and Bill Murray go to war in “Rushmore” to the tune of the Who’s mini-rock opera “A Quick One While He’s Away,” the tender entrance of Gwyneth Paltrow in “The Royal Tenenbaums” to the tune of Nico’s mournful version of “These Days,” or the surprisingly moving scene in the submarine as the crew of “The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou” encounter the fabled jaguar shark to the tune of Sigur Ros’s “Staralfur.”

The trailer for Anderson’s newest film – the preciously titled “The Darjeeling Express” is online. Due in September, it features previous Anderson stars Owen Wilson and Jason Schwartzman, along with Adrien Brody, as three brothers who travel across India. We were lukewarm on this, until we saw the trailer…and damned if he doesn’t do it again. The song this time is “This Time Tomorrow,” by the Kinks, and combined with the beautiful cinematography – well, we can’t wait.

ESPN, The Cult of Personality, and "Who's Now"

2007-07-29T15:27:00.000-07:00

In the late 1990s, the brilliant playwright/screenwriter Aaron Sorkin, who had been previously known for crafting the script for the play "A Few Good Men," began his career in television (which would lead to the magnificent "The West Wing" and the flawed but intriguing "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip") by creating a sitcom that centered around the ups and downs of the cast and crew of a flagship sports highlight on a 24-hour sports network. The sitcom took its name from the sportscast central to the show: "Sports Night." (If you've never seen it, seek it out on DVD.)

By the time this sitcom aired, the show and network from which it drew inspiration - "SportsCenter" on ESPN - had already been airing for nineteen years. During this time, though, ESPN was experiencing an unprecedented boom-time. Between the years of 1990 and 2002, the network secured exclusive deals with all four major American professional sports (baseball, football, basketball, and, yes, hockey). As these deals fell into place, ESPN gained viewership at an unprecedented rate.

Ultimately, the growth (and resultant success) of ESPN during this 12-year period was contingent on the sports which the network was covering. The network attempted to build on this success this by, in 1994, launching the "This Is SportsCenter" series of commercials, which presented the anchors and reporters of the flagship program as more than just news presenters, but stars in their own right.

For better or worse, ESPN anchors became "names" - people like Chris Berman, Dan Patrick, Craig Kilborn, Stuart Scott, and Keith Olbermann were given exposure on a level that had been heretofore reserved for athletes. In fact, the plots of the commercials featured the athletes and anchors interacting as peers. It was truly the beginning of a "cult of personality" era for ESPN - a time where the people participating in and announcing the sports were treated with more and more reverence than the sports themselves.

Additionally, ESPN has gone above simply covering sports events - they have actually created sports events and assigned them a significance on a par with established sports. Most prominent of these was the 1995 creation of the X-Games, a sports festival of "extreme" sports like motocross, skateboarding, and BMX bicycling. This was joined with the 1997 introduction of the Winter X-Games, which featured snowboarding and snowmobiling. Additionally, ESPN has been instrumental in the coverage of fringe sports like women's professional basketball and arena football - these are sports which, in my opinion, have been covered on SportsCenter primarily because of ESPN's stake in broadcasting them - and as such, have been assigned an "importance" which they hadn't really earned prior to their broadcasting contracts with the network.

As time has gone on, ESPN has continued their emphasis on personality over action. Sports anchors have been given the free reign to let their personalities seize the emphasis in their presentation of the highlights. Commentators have been given extra screen-time, in packaged, sponsored features like "The Budweiser Hot Seat." The highlights - the sports themselves - have taken a backseat.

This summer, in lieu of presenting an actual sports highlight show, SportsCenter has featured a "contest" called "Who's Now." Presented by the ubiquitous, cyclopsian Stuart Scott, it has been a a chance to pit 32 athletes from all sports against each other in a tournament. The point of "Who's Now" -at least as they have stated it on ESPN - is to determine a pecking order based on on-field performance and off-field clout.

The 32 athletes selected by ESPN for this tournament, however, indicate the probability that something else is going on - among the athletes chosen for "now" status are individuals from fringe sports like women's softball (Amanda Beard), ultimate fighting (Chuck Liddell), surfing (Kelly Slater), and snowboarding (Shaun White).

Why would these athletes be chosen for this type of tournament? Does anybody at ESPN seriously believe that snowboarding and surfing are on a par with tennis and golf, let alone the four major sports? My head tells me "no." So, why are they there?

Ultimately, my suspicion is that "Who's Now," a journalistically-shaky competition on all levels, is essentially a focus group. A focus group for what? Well, let's look at it this way: ESPN has obviously been major dabblers in the cult of personality for quite some time. The X-Games, which have been considered the centerpiece of the extreme sports culture for sometime, are an ESPN property. In placing extreme athletes up for consideration with individual athletes in major individual sports (tennis stars Roger Federer, Serena Williams, and Maria Sharapova and golfer Tiger Woods) and star athletes in team sports (footballer Tom Brady, baseball star Derek Jeter, and basketball's LeBron James), they can gauge how they're doing. The X-Games are theirs, and the stars that are central to these events are the stars that ESPN have created and showcased.

With that in mind, it's hard not to think of "Who's Now" as a state of affairs check-up for ESPN - it's a way to see how what they do in the business of creating stars matches up with what they do in the world of broadcasting the highlights of established stars. It's a logical step for a network that refers to itself as "The Worldwide Leader" - to use its resources to see how successful and influential they truly are.

It makes me yearn for the days of the late-1990s, when it was easy to think of ESPN as being a hands-off network, the type that would inspire characters on "Sports Night" like Dan Rydell (Josh Charles) and Casey McCall (Peter Krause) - the type of characters that gave you the hope that your sports-news personalities were ethics-and-responsibility driven, instead of working (as folks as questionable as Stuart Scott and respected as Michael Wilbon seem to be) for the benefit of the advertisers and the almighty buck.

In the great Living Colour song "Cult of Personality," lead singer Corey Glover sings "You gave me fortune/you gave me fame." Which seems to fit the world of ESPN. He then takes it up a notch: "You gave me power...I exploit you, you still love me."

Is that too harsh? Possibly. Does it fit the way ESPN does business? Boo-ya.

Correction: My friend Scott Jennings has pointed out, correctly so, that Amanda Beard is a swimmer (and not a softball player, as I asserted). I stand corrected. That being said, she remains absolutely irrelevant to most Americans, aside from her appearance in "Playboy" magazine. Spank bank material? Probably. A "now" athlete on a par with, say, the leadoff hitter for the New York Mets? No.

Beating The Drum For: WEXT-FM Radio

2007-07-25T18:32:00.000-07:00

The Tri-Cities (Albany-Schenectady-Troy) may suffer on some levels - mediocre nightlife, a minimum of awesome touring bands, and a disappointing beer scene come to mind - but it is certainly not hurting for good radio.

The latest station here is WEXT-FM, a public-radio, free-form station known as "The Exit" and found at 97.7 FM. It broadcasts out of Amsterdam, I believe. For years, 97.7 was a classical station - however, on July 7, it switched to a free-form format.

Since tuning in for the first time, I've heard tracks from the Clash, Bright Eyes, Wilco, Grateful Dead, Ryan Adams, Spoon, and Jeff Buckley. They've been giving a lot of local acts playtime too, including the Kamikaze Hearts and the revelatory Sarah Pedinotti, who have been touted in publications like "Metroland" but have otherwise been hard to hear.

Check it out. It streams online for those not in the Capital Region. You'll dig it. We do.

When You Wish Upon A (Family-Friendly) Falling Star

2007-07-25T17:23:00.000-07:00

Two of the most fascinating rock-history books I've read lately have to do with the illustrious history of one of the most debauched, bad-reputation bands in the history of the music industry, the Rolling Stones. The first, "Old Gods Almost Dead," was written by Stephen Davis, and traces the forty-year history of this gang of drug-addled villains who just happened to be one of the most musically influential groups ever. The second, "Exile On Main Street: A Season In Hell With The Rolling Stones," by Robert Greenfield, paints a detailed picture of the band's maddest period, the heroin-infused sessions that inspired the epic double album mentioned in the book's title.

When you read these books, it's easy to form some quick opinions about the band, and the rugged, insane gang leader at its core, Keith Richards. The first opinion is undoubtedly a sense of relief that you were not actually there with the band. The second opinion, which should be far stronger, is that those guys, and Keith Richards especially, were lucky to survive their own fame and success.

I found myself thinking about Keith Richards a lot yesterday, especially as the news about Lindsay Lohan emerged across the various media platforms yesterday. It's weird that there are even parallels to be drawn between Richards (a notoriously drug-and-alcohol addicted guitarist and primary songwriter for the Rolling Stones who, as the stories have it, was prone to nodding off in a heroin haze onstage in the 1970s) and Lohan (who emerged onto Hollywood's radar by starring in a family friendly remake of "The Parent Trap" as a 10 year old), but they're there. The mere fact that Lohan's arrest on Tuesday is her second substance-abuse-related incident in three months, and comes on the heels of her second stint in rehab this calendar year, hint very obviously at somebody overwhelmed by substances and addictions beyond her control.

And so it is, and here we are, drawing these sad parallels.

Sadder still, in my opinion, are the bubbles of naivete that are bursting in the hearts and tween and teen girls and boys across this nation, from coast to coast. I don't blame Keith Richards for this, and I certainly don't blame Lindsay Lohan. Neither was the first actor or musician to dabble in drugs, and neither will be the last.

Honestly? I don't even blame anyone connected to the drug world? Me, I blame the Disney Channel.

In 1997, the Disney Channel underwent a paradigm shift of sorts. It was during this year that the folks at Disney unloaded their first salvo in a war of "family-friendly" programming that was simultaneously aimed at their cross-channel rivals Nickelodeon and at a generation of parents dealing with a world which was, in the words of Bruce Springsteen, "57 channels and nothing on."

In 1997, the Disney Channel unveiled a lineup that they called "Zoog Disney," a block of programming which included shows like "Even Stevens" and "Lizzie McGuire" and were a subtler brand of children's television program than the channel had previously presented to the public - these were shows that aired in prime-time, and focused on a demographic who had outgrown overt kid's programs like "Sesame Street" but were not quite ready for the raunchiness of prime-time network programming. The Nickelodeon network matched this with programming like "The Amanda Show" (featuring Amanda Bynes), "The Nick Cannon Show," and "All That." Both networks provided marketing pushes for major pop acts of that era, which were generally squeaky-clean acts like NSync, the Backstreet Boys, and Britney Spears.

The Disney Channel and Nickelodeon became an empire of culture, one that became validated as its influence spread to the music industry and other television channels. It's hard not to see one of the great late-1990s cultural signifiers, MTV's "Total Request Live With Carson Daly," as anything other than an extension of this culture, as it offered up the same bands and talents as the kid-oriented shows on the aforementioned channels.

However, it was as Disney and Nickelodeon became proprietors of culture instead of programming, that the plot got lost. A major reason that parents found these channels appropriate for viewing was because they presented kid-friendly shows; then, the paradigm shifted, and all of a sudden, they were in the business of presenting kid-friendly kid stars.

The streets of Hollywood are littered with the burnt-out chassis of so many kid stars. Some, like Danny Bonaduce and Leif Garrett, are barely surviving as people. Others, like Macaulay Culkin, are occasionally working in the industry. Few, however, have made the leap from child star to successful adult star - most flame out.

Watching the recent escapades of Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears has been like watching a slow-motion trainwreck - to the point where getting caught with cocaine or behaving bizarrely at a photoshoot don't seem surprising, but inevitable. For those of us who have seen episode after episode of "VH1's Behind The Music" or "The E! True Hollywood Story" these seem like utterly plausible conclusions.

However, there's a true sadness there - for so many, people like Lindsay Lohan were marketed not just as actors and characters, but as role models for living in a heavily sanitized version of a teenaged life. And no matter how much we want someone to be a role model, it's not something that's easily lived up to. At the very least, Lindsay Lohan will never be seen as a positive role model again.

My hope is that the parents out there who have used the programming on Disney and Nickelodeon will maybe turn those channels off. Reality can only be sanitized for so long before it becomes overprotection, and can be combated by spending quality time with your kids.

Otherwise, and this isn't too much of a stretch given these channels' tendency to fetishize and idealize their stars, these parents might as well be pointing to a picture of Keith Richards and saying, "hey, you can be that someday."

"Hairspray" And The "Art" Of The Remake

2007-07-20T12:41:00.000-07:00

One of the most abhorrent things about Hollywood, and the show-business machinery whose core lies within the limits of Los Angeles County, is the utter and replete dearth of original ideas which originate from the community of creative people based there.

Admittedly, I’m thinking about the tendency of the movie industry to recycle ideas that have been previously tried and found to be worthy of consumption. Movie studios of all types, from independent to massively corporate, rely heavily on art that has been previously produced and consumed (on some level) and build from there.

This isn’t always a bad thing, necessarily. There have been many stunning film adaptations of books, plays, and other source material; every year, the Academy Awards present an award for the best adapted screenplay – nominations for this honor have included masterworks including “Dr. Strangelove,” “Breakfast At Tiffany’s,” “Apocalypse Now,” “The Shawshank Redemption,” and “Field Of Dreams.” That’s not a bad little DVD collection there.

Where Hollywood tends to get in trouble, however, is when it shifts away from adapting items of previously-created art for films, and gets into the business of remaking films. Point in case: Billy Wilder’s wonderfully romantic “Sabrina,” a mid-1950s gem of a film which starred the lovely Audrey Hepburn in the title role alongside the fantastic Humphrey Bogart and William Holden. Phenomenal movie; pick it up from your local library or video store if you get the chance. However, do not mistake it for the 1995 remake, which starred Harrison Ford and the beautiful (but by no means Hepburn-esque) Julia Ormond and was an utter, deserved flop.

The annals of Hollywood history are littered with flops like this; some, like the aforementioned “Sabrina” fiasco, are underwhelming from the get-go. Others, like “Psycho,” which was remade by Gus Van Sant in 1998, have higher aspirations (and therefore are subject to higher expectations from the audience). Van Sant, in remaking the 1960 Alfred Hitchcock, decided to remake the film on a shot for shot basis. He got the job done, and technically speaking, that was an amazing feat. However, it was underwhelming because, ultimately, the original “Psycho” thrived on the shock of what was occurring onscreen, while the remake took for granted that the audience had seen the original, which muted the overall impact of the film, and all but ensured that it would die a terrible death on impact.

There are scores upon scores of unnecessary remakes that litter multiplexes on what seems like a weekly basis. Cedric the Entertainer in a remake of “The Honeymooners?” Someone thought that would be good. Billy Baldwin as Barney Rubble in “The Flinstones: Viva Rock Vegas?” That got a green light from an executive as well.

Today is June 20th, and a movie is coming out today that signifies a new low in the remake trend. That movie is “Hairspray,” and, like last winter’s “The Producers,” it follows a curious path to the silver screen: original movie becomes Broadway revue, which then becomes a movie itself.

The purpose of the second movie, I would assume, is to satisfy the desires of the unwashed masses of the lumpenproletariat, who hope to find in the film some semblance of the Broadway extravaganza that they either couldn’t secure tickets for (but wanted to see) or that they spent good money on (and got to see the understudies). In the case of “The Producers,” I understood that. The combination of Matthew Broderick and Nathan Lane was a true phenomena when that hit the Great White Way years ago; why wouldn’t you want to capture that on film somehow?

Where the film remake of “The Producers” went wrong, and where it seems like “Hairspray” is bound to go terribly, terribly astray, was in the other casting. Rather than use the actors who made supporting parts in the stage adaptation memorable, the film relied on “name” stars like Uma Thurman and Will Ferrell to carry these parts. Bound by the large number of interpretations of the part that had already been committed to the public’s memory, from Broadway cast to touring company to original film, Ferrell and Thurman failed – possibly because their parts were essentially third-generation copies of the original roles, weighed down with the schticks that were added on from interpretation to interpretation. And then, as such, the film remake failed as well.

“Hairspray” looks like it will suffer from a similar fate. While John Waters’s original film is nowhere near iconic, it served to create vivid comic characters. These characters carried over nicely to musical theater; however, it will take incredibly gifted actors to succeed in these roles in the movie remake because they will need to create their own characters. Unfortunately, the casting department for the movie instead delivered actors like Queen Latifah (who, despite having garnered an Academy Award nomination in her brief acting career, seems to mistake mugging and smug line delivery for comic performance) and John Travolta (who relies so heavily on his persona for movie roles that the majority of his promotion for “Hairspray” consists of statements like “you won’t believe that it’s me). Perhaps I’m biased (I would not mind it one bit if either actor retired from moviemaking today), but the movie looks like a tremendous trainwreck, propelled by “aren’t we clever, aren’t we retro” stylings that do not seem to offer one iota of originality to a viewing public who will (sigh) probably make it the number one movie in America this weekend.

Needless to say, I will not be in line to see “Hairspray.”

Relatability and "Knocked Up"

2007-07-18T16:32:00.000-07:00

The last two times I went to the movies, I saw the film Knocked Up. Being a huge fan of the work of the director (Judd Apatow, The 40 Year Old Virgin), the male lead (Seth Rogen, also of The 40 Year Old Virgin), and the impeccable Paul Rudd (Clueless, Wet Hot American Summer, and Anchorman), I had high expectations for this movie. Without divulging too many of my opinions on the jokes contained in the film, or giving away many of the plotlines, I can say that I enjoyed it.

A friend of mine, however, did not care for it too much. In a critique relayed on a message board that we both frequent, this friend (whose anonymity I will maintain unless I hear otherwise) noted:

"Apatow asks way way too much from us. First, we have to believe that Seth Rogen gets into that club, and then he and Katherine Heigl hook up. Once we get past that, we have to believe that there's no abortion, but since that's all personal and shit, we'll let it slide. But here's the really hard part: we're supposed to like Seth Rogen and root for him and believe he can do this. And here's the thing: he's a total fucktard from the opening credits until about one hundred minutes in. We're supposed to believe that no one at any point tells him, "you're going to have to grow up and get a job now, fool." We're supposed to believe that not even his own father tells him this! So we spend the bulk of the movie watching this overgrown child whine and pout and kick and be completely unlikeable in practically every way, and we're supposed to like him and root for him? Can't do it."

I read this critique about a month after my second viewing of Knocked Up, and I thought about it for awhile - it makes some very valid points, definitely. I immediately realized that I would probably never sit down with this friend and convince him, frame-by-frame, of my point of view on this movie (that it's a very funny movie with a great story).

However, it made me think about why I really enjoyed this movie, and ultimately it boiled down to this: I'm kind of a fucktard, too. That's a harsh realization to have, so let me qualify it: Seth Rogen's character is very flawed, and I can very definitively see shades of his character's flaws in my own personality.

To wit: yeah, I probably wouldn't get in that club either. However, I'd like to think that, if I waited on line long enough, I would. Additionally, would I pull a girl as drop-dead gorgeous as Katherine Heigl? Probably not. That being said, there have been a good-solid handful of times where I have hooked up with a girl, and in between kisses, have thought "hey, I'm a little bit out of my league here."

I could go on, I suppose, but it would have the effect of making me simultaneously depressed and wistful about my life. Which I'm not really up for right now. That being said, that leads me to my point: in telling his story in Knocked Up, Apatow does exactly the right thing - he creates a flawed character, but structures the character so that all of the flaws are somehow relatable.

This is not the first time Apatow's turned this trick, either. Look at the aforementioned 40 Year Old Virgin. What made that movie successful? I would argue that he took an odd, somewhat unusual situation - a normal, relatively functional man who happened to be absolutely petrified of sex - and made it relatable.

It's in relatability that movies are made, not in the plausibility of the situation. I think about the character of Toby in the movie American Splendor, as played by Judah Friedlander. In that movie, Toby goes on and on about why Revenge of the Nerds (itself a relatively implausible movie about the human condition, and one which has a major plot point that hinges on a woman's inability to tell the difference between sexual partners due to the impediment of a Darth Vader mask, to boot) is important to him.

Toby drives 260 miles round trip to see this movie, and when questioned about this by Harvey Pekar (as played by Paul Giamatti), he explains why it is important to him:

TOBY: It's a new film called Revenge of the Nerds. It's about a group of nerd college students who are being picked on all the time by the jocks. So they decide to take revenge.
HARVEY: So what you're saying is, you identify with those nerds.
TOBY: Yes. I consider myself a nerd. And this movie has uplifted me. There's this one scene, where a nerd grabs the microphone during a pep rally and announces that he is a nerd and that he is proud of it and stands up for the rights of other nerds.
HARVEY: Right on.

Ultimately, I think that the reason Knocked Up succeeds is that, no matter how implausible the details that Judd Apatow present to the audience, they're never too too far from reality that they never become unrelatable. When it boils down, Seth Rogen's character may not have a tremendous grasp on the reality of his situation, and he might be a schlub, and he might be unworthy of the beauty who winds up in his arms. This is true. But I think we're all there, on some level, at some time. And we watch the movie, and it uplifts us because we see the glimmers of ourselves (the truth in the comedy, if you would).

Right on.

Welcome to Boom Thwack Boom

2007-07-18T11:59:00.000-07:00

Right now, as I’m writing this, I have no honest understanding of what this site will become. My hope is that this will evolve into a site where I (and perhaps, later on, others – I’m not ruling anything out right now) talk about things like sports, culture, politics, and other pertinent topics.

Actually, I’m not really sure what I’m going to talk about. I’m going to let time dictate it, as it will. I find that the things that fascinate and confuse me in this world change on a day to day basis. This will be, I hope, a way for me to intellectualize and explore that world, hopefully in a readable and not-at-all-confusing manner.

I can’t make any promises, but I’m hoping [fingers crossed] that whatever I do decide to talk about on this site, I won’t half-ass. Like Steve Martin once sang in a “Saturday Night Live” sketch, “I’m not gonna phone it in tonight, not gonna go through the motions tonight.” That said, I’m not just talking about tonight. I’m talking about what will be [looks at calendar] at least two solid days of effort, easily.

So, enjoy. Hopefully, I’ll give you reasons to.