Who's Better

Besides Dylan, I’ve also been listening to a lot of The Who lately, although I hardly just discovered them. The Who were very unique in the annals of the giants of the classic rock era. By using the criteria of one or two word descriptions, Zeppelin would be “crafty genius”; the Stones – “swagger”; and The Who – pure“power”. The sound that those four individuals were able to generate out of those four instruments and voices was staggering. Together, no one (besides The Stooges perhaps, minus the songwriting craft) has ever captured the energy of The Who in the same way. The four album cycle of Tommy, Live At Leeds, Who’s Next and Quadrophenia was as dynamic as had ever been up to that point or since.

I can only imagine what it must have sounded like to be standing front and center within the first several rows at a Who concert. The Replacements and Jason & The Scorchers are the closest I’ve ever come to witnessing the power that they surely generated. Moon was all over the fucking place on the drums. His arms flailed around his kit like the blurry rotors of a truck engine, all the while maintaining the solid foundation of the song. Entwhistle was the same way on the bass, albeit within a more sensical and concise structure while remaining rock solid and stoic as a statue. Daltrey found himself as a singer with Tommy and cultivated that energy and passion throughout the remainder of that lineup’s existence. And Townshend is often overlooked as a guitarist in deference to his songwriting abilities. He was unique in that he didn’t rely on flash or screeching leads to convey his point. He was able to generate a sound that was blustering yet commanding with a way of grabbing the collective nutsack of an audience and feeding it to his instrument.

So go back and listen to those aforementioned albums in order to hear the almighty power of The Who.

A Case of Griswolditus

Had to check the date on my watch last evening while driving through Homewood on the way to my dad's house. The date? January 29th. The reason? I passed by a house that had a completely illuminated Christmas scene on their front lawn. I'm not talking about white lights wrapped around a tree trunk or a railing. I'm talking full color regalia covering the entire porch and yard, complete with Santa and his reindeer. You could chalk it up to a jaunty disposition or outright laziness, but the fact that the lights were actually lit tells me that these people were trying to make a statement. In their minds, that statement must be, "We frown upon such frivolous boundaries as a calendar and choose to celebrate the birth of Jesus year-round." In my mind, that statement is "Look at us! We're a bunch of lazy f**king morons!"

Damn You Negotiators!

Like everyone else, the Writer's Guild of America strike is starting to wear on me. I made the switch to DVR a few years ago and it's been a lifesaver ever since. Gone are the days of cursing myself for failing to set my VCR. I have certain shows that I watch on certain nights and it's nice to be able plop my ass on the couch at night and call up my list of recorded shows that I can watch at my own leisure, all while zapping through those pesky commercials. But those days are over for now as each scripted series runs out of episodes. Now all we're left with are re-runs and reality shows, forever reminding us how banal and nondescript these shows have become. However, this woeful "blandscape" of programming has motivated me to find alternatives. Since then, I've re-discovered such gems as The Food Network, The Travel Channel as well as the new TruTV (especially those engaging episodes of "Cops" and "Forensic Files"). But damn if I don't miss my CSI's, House, SVU and 30 Rock. They need to end this shit soon.

Juno

Ever since Juno was released, I've OD'd on the media's ass-kissing of the film's writer, Diablo Cody. Every magazine and TV show have been spouting her praises for months. Well, I finally had the pleasure of seeing it last weekend and I gotta jump on the bandwagon. Juno is the best movie I've seen in a long time - easily the best of the past year. Not many movies can make you laugh your ass off while also giving you that warm, tingly feeling inside. Juno is one of them. The writing, the acting, the music and the direction are all simply brilliant. And it really doesn't take a side on the whole abortion issue. It actually enables you see the pros and cons of each scenario without being preachy about either choice. Right now it gets my vote for Best Picture.

Better Late Than Never

As most of you know, music is what moves me, what drives me, what guides me. The array of different styles and artists in my collection is quite confounding, even to me. Many have accused me of outright snobbery, which is an onus that I stubbornly pride myself in. And I’ve dutifully carried the torch of my favorite underappreciated songwriters (at least in terms of mass adulation) such as Paul Westerberg, Aimee Mann, Neil Finn, Todd Rundgren, Steve Earle and others. And while I still admire many major artists, one such songwriter has slipped under my radar: Bob Dylan. Yes, I’ve always respected his talent and contribution to music. He’s written some of the greatest songs of all time. The problem is that I’ve mostly enjoyed other artists’ versions of his songs more than his - everything from Hendrix’s masterful performance of “All Along The Watchtower" to Rod Stewarts poppy interpretation of “Forever Young”. Also, the sound and delivery of one’s voice is important to the final product, and Dylan’s nasally delivery and harmonica drone have usually been a turnoff to me.

But recently I’ve gained a new perspective and appreciation for his music, particularly his early work. And much of this is due to the brilliant Scorsese documentary, No Direction Home, which I watched over the past several days. I’ve been immersing myself in Dylan’s recorded material of the 60’s and 70’s and have gained immense insight that I had never paid attention to. For one thing, his style of songwriting is different than what I’ve become accustomed to. Being so heavily influenced by folk and blues music, his songs tend to be structured linearly with no clear beginning, middle or end. Many of his songs are straight verses (with the occasional chorus) that can seem to go on for 10 minutes. That’s because few of his songs have the “middle 8” section that most listeners of popular music are so acclimated (albeit often unconsciously) to hearing. In fact, out of all the albums I’ve been listening to lately, I finally heard my first Dylan middle 8 on “Going Going Gone” off 1974’s Planet Waves album. Traditionally, I’ve always been more into the sound and melody of a song rather than the lyrical content. That’s not to say that lyrics aren’t important to me – it’s just that my ear picks out things differently than most people. Hell, I couldn’t tell you what most of my favorite songs are even about. After all, my favorite band is R.E.M., and most of the time I don’t know what the fuck Michael Stipe is writing/singing about.

So I’m 38 years-old and I’ve just now “discovered” Bob Dylan. How freaking weird that makes me feel. But, as the title says, better late than never. Like my immersion into jazz, I’ve had to re-train myself how to listen to a particular style of music, which is probably why it sounds so fresh to my ears. Since I can’t stand the sound of most “new” music based on current production techniques, I’m enjoying my re-discovery of older styles and artists. Unfortunately for my wallet and my time, that’s the way I’ve always been – constantly seeking new and different types of music to invade my soul. I have a lot of friends who still listen to the same stuff they listened to in high school and college, never buying or listening to anything different or new. While I’ll always sweep the dust off the old favorites, I can’t go that route. Hence the now 101 GB of music on my hard drive. No Direction Home indeed.

Bear Redux

As mentioned in my previous post, here is the infamous photo and graph of the fateful meeting of Coach Bryant. This was taken from the March, 1981 issue of the Alabama Alumni Bulletin. According to the article, the banquet was on December 5th, 1980, a year after we beat Arkansas in the Sugar Bowl to win our 11th National Championship. Incidentally (and I remember this vividly), I predicted the score would be 24-10, Bama; the actual final score was 24-9. How clairvoyant I was at that age. Hell, with glasses that appalling, I had to be at least somewhat astute.

Bear

This weekend marks the 25th anniversary of Bear Bryant's death. It's difficult to explain to younger folks just what it was like to grow up during the dominance of Bear and the Tide in the 70's. In the five seasons from 1975-1979, Alabama lost 6 games. Let me type that again - Alabama lost 6 times in five years. To put that in perspective, Bama has lost at least 6 games each of the last two seasons. Needless to say, it was a BIG deal when Alabama lost a single game back then. Bear Bryant had an aura about him that was incalculable.

I had the incredible chance to meet him when I was a kid. I was around 9-10 years old and my father had obtained tickets for the Senior Football Banquet at the Civic Center here in the 'ham. He took me and my brother Michael, who would have been about 6-7. However, that memory is bittersweet. We saw all of our favorite players and amazingly had the good fortune to meet Coach Bryant and get his autograph. In fact, there was a reporter there who took a picture of the coach flanked by me and my brother on either side of him. Unfortunately, my mother insisted that Michael and I wore the matching rainbow-striped sweaters that my aunt had knitted for us that Christmas, thus ensuring that what should have been a proud highlight for each of her boys is actually now a cringe-inducing moment upon recollection. For one night, my father was a god in our eyes for granting us the opportunity to meet a living legend. My mother, on the other hand, turned out to be the incarnation of evil. I've got a copy of that photo somewhere at home that I'll post if I can successfully dig it out.

Big

SocGen reels from record $7 billion rogue trader fraud

PARIS (Reuters) - A "massive fraud" by a junior rogue trader has punched a $7 billion hole in the finances of French bank Societe Generale (SOGN.PA), leaving its credibility in tatters and forcing it to get emergency cash.

France's central bank and government scrambled to shore up confidence in the banking system after Societe Generale, France's second-biggest bank, said on Thursday it had been the victim of massive and "exceptional" fraud resulting in losses of 4.9 billion euros...


All I can say is "wow". How in the hell do you let $7 billion slip out the door? SocGen may want to re-think its accounting and hiring practices. And how many more ways can you describe this oversight? After all, they used the words "massive" and "exceptional" in the article to explain the magnitude of the fraud. Let us count the adjectives using the trusty ol' Roget's Thesaurus:

huge
enormous
gigantic
immense
colossal
substantial
considerable
humongous
great
vast
mammoth
giant

But wait, there's more:

titanic
monstrous
gargantuan
oversize
large
extremely large
planetary
mighty
mountainous
behemothic
bulky
stupendous
jumbo
tremendous

And I swear to you this came up:

big mother

Indeed.

Heath Ledger

I know we've all been inundated with comments and tributes over the past 24 hours regarding the death of Heath Ledger, but I'd like to weigh in on this tragedy. As some of you may have read here two years ago, I was deeply touched (no pun intended) after seeing Brokeback Mountain, especially by Ledger's Ennis Delmar character. I still maintain that he should have won the Oscar that year. It ranks as one of the greatest performances I've ever seen by an actor in a motion picture. It was on cable one night last month when I was flipping channels and I watched the second half. There's nothing more sad and compelling than watching a tortured soul in the flesh, and he captured that rather brilliantly. It just makes you wonder, if the reports of suicide ring true, how tortured his own soul must have been. R.I.P.

Whatever Happened To.... David Naughton?

David first came on the scene in the "Be A Pepper" Ad campaign for Dr. Pepper in the mid-70's. He followed that up with the dance classic "Makin' It", which was featured in the film Meatballs. After that, he starred in An American Werewolf In London and Hot Dog The Movie. After a stint on the sitcom My Sister Sam and a guest spot as Elaine's alcoholic boyfriend on Seinfeld, he seemingly dropped off the face of the earth (which is the pre-requisite for this category of posts, in case you haven't figured it out).

F**kin 'A' Diane!

I love this. The FCC is reportedly freaking out over Diane Keaton's F-bomb on Good Morning America.

Last year's court decision that threw out the FCC's policy on "fleeting references" complicates any action the commission might want to take against the stations or the network, chairman Kevin Martin told reporters. When asked whether the FCC would take action, Martin appeared "flummoxed" by the court's decision and the most recent incident of celebrity potty mouth.

"Obviously the commission's pending litigation has impacted a whole host of issues, but I don't know enough about the details of this to see how it would be impacted," he said.

Gooooooooooose!!

One of my favorite baseball players of all time, Rich "Goose" Gossage, was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame today after eight years on the ballot. With his nasty scowl and his fu manchu mustache, Goose was one of the most intimidating relief pitchers in the game during his time with the Yankees in the late 70's. I used to imitate his glare and his wind-up in my back yard when I was a kid and I'd holler "Goooooose" whenever I saw him on TV. Congrats to Goose - it was a long time coming.

Whatever Happened To.... Benny Mardones?

Oh come on. You remember Benny, don't you? Maybe this will help:

Sheeee's just sixteen years old
Leave her alone, they say

Still don't remember?

If I could fly, I'd pick you up
I'd take you into the night and show you a love
Like you've never seen, ever seen

Ah yes, that song. That voice. Those creepy lyrics. I remember buying a K-Tel album when I was a kid (it was called "Soundwaves" and I don't know why I remember that) and hearing Into The Night by Benny Mardones for the first time. I actually liked it. It was a Top 20 hit in 1980 and then, like the aforementioned Leo and Robbie, he dropped off the face of the earth. That is, until 1989, when Benny re-recorded and re-released this gem of a song. Lo and behold, it became a Top 20 hit AGAIN! As if the song didn't creep people out enough the first time, he wanted to make sure it reached the maximum number of innocent ears. What balls this man must have. And where is he now? According to Wikipedia,

"Mardones currently resides in Southern California. He has one son, Michael, who was born in 1985. Mardones has been diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease."

Boy, don't I feel like a schmuck now.

Top Ten Addendum

Due to a clerical error, I left an important item off of this year's list of my Top 10 Albums of 2008 (see below). That album is the soundtrack from the movie, Once. Mostly performed by the two main actors of the film, Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová, the music and movie are astonishing. Hansard and the film's director, John Carney, are both members of the Irish band, The Frames. Hansard and Irglová's voices meld together seemlessly to create a lush landscape of sound. Highly recommended.

What Were They Thinking?

I've never been one to brag about being the wisest human in the world but I feel that I must question the motives of the Groen family this past weekend. In case you missed it, this is the family who went missing during a snowmobile trip in near the 10,222-foot Cumbres Pass in Colorado last weekend, where they've had four feet of snow since Friday. Fortunately, they've been found alive and safe. Now, the few people I know who live in Colorado have always told me that predicting the weather there is a complete waste of time. Powerful winter storms can creep up at any moment in the Rockies. So why take a Rocky Mountain family expedition in the middle of nowhere during the month of January? What was the mindset of these folks prior to setting out on this near-suicide mission? This inquiring mind wants to know.

Whatever Happened To.... Robbie Dupree?

Another hit-meister from the late 70's who put out such classics as "Steal Away" and "Hot Rod Hearts", which had some of the cheesiest lyrics ever -

Ten miles east of the highway
Hot sparks burnin' the night away
Two lips touchin' together
Cheek to cheek, sweatshirt to sweater

Then, like many of his one or two hit wonder brethren, he fell off the face of the earth into nothingness. I Googled him and he is actually still out there performing, albeit on the daycruise and bingo circuit I'm quite certain.

Bowled Over

The current college football bowl system sucks and I've had enough of it. I'm not even talking about a playoff or any other method of determining a national champion. Or the fact that there are too many goddamn games. I'm talking about the boredom of the traditional New Year's Day bowl games. There was a time before the whole BCS nonsense that there were certain bowls played at certain times on New Years Day. The Gator and Citrus (UT) Bowls kicked things off in the AM; The Cotton Bowl was played mid-day; The Rose and Fiesta Bowls started around 4:00; finally, the Orange and Sugar Bowls were played in the evening. That way, if any one game was shitty you could change the channel to another bowl. The way it is now, not only is there only one game on at a time on New Year's Day, but the rest of the goddamn games are spread out over the course of a week - one game a night. And so far this week, almost every contest has been a (yawn) blowout. The best interests fans have been flushed down the shitter in favor of corporations and suits who think "giving him the business" means kissing a clients ass. Alas, the good old days are gone. Serenity now!

Whatever Happened To.... Leo Sayer?

This lovable teddy bear of a man had a small string of hits in the late 70's. With his high-pitched voice and Richard Simmons kitsch, he made us feel like dancing. Where is he now? Who the hell knows. But it's amazing how, when I was a kid, his gayness went flying over my head like a pre-game fighter jet.