I've taken my foot off the gas a bit lately, similar to how G:TB was a well-oiled, postcounting machine in the early days of pandemic quarantining and has recently let up. If you can go outside and live, do so.
I also watched some non-music-documentary television. It can get a tad monotonous to go from music doc to music doc, even if you alternate genres, styles, and approaches as I have tried to do. And so, I pivoted to:
The Last Dance - (Yes, another documentary. So what, I like 'em!) I watched every moment of the MJ saga. Compelling as all get-out. He is who we thought he was, but moreso. More amazing, more complete as a player. more of a jackass as a teammate or competitor. To me, the most gripping moments were (a) those that demonstrated that he, as any sane person would, hates the 100%-all-the-time fan-clamor and hides out in a hotel room or his house; and (b) the moment he was presented with the suggestion that in order to be the best player/champion he had had to sacrifice being a "good guy," and that thought brought tears, a hasty explanation, and his demanding a break in the recording. It's better when Superman's a human after all.
Letterkenny - I binge-watched several seasons of this preposterous Canadian show (available on on Hulu,annoyingly). Hilarious and addictive, if ultimately a bit redundant. The scene where the guys are playing catch and Squirrelly Dan uncomfortably introduces the subject of his lady friend and her interest in the "butts-stuff" had me laughing heartily. A hard yes.
Seaver - I stumbled upon a one-hour Tom Seaver documentary on the MLB network. I'm an obvious sucker for the content, but there was plenty new to me, especially the unfortunate epilogue of Alzheimer's and his retreat from public life last year. Tom Terrific was the best Met there was, despite the franchise booting it majorly several times over.
Anyway, I have also made time for more music absorption. Back to the quest...
ReMastered: Devil at the Crossroads (2019) -- This was a tidy, little Netflix piece on the pioneer bluesman Robert Johnson and the generations of intrigue that have surrounded his eerily quick rise from kid with a guitar he couldn't much play to blues god. The story is well-presented and frankly sells itself -- selling one's soul to the Devil for talent. And then there's his death at age 27. And the fact that (until last month) there were only two photographs ever taken of the man. When I lived across the way from Dave in the fraternity house, he bought a box set of Robert Johnson. I didn't know who the dude was. Turns out many a blues riff and/or style of playing -- which begat many a rock and roll riff and style of playing -- is attributed to one man. At 48 minutes, check it out.
Hip-Hop Evolution (Season 1) -- This is my shit. Z and I have served and rallied here before with old school and older school, but Season 1 of HHE is the jack from way back. Loved it. Planning to continue to dig in on the series and learn lots more along the way.
History of the Eagles (2013) -- Far, far away on the music spectrum from Kurtis Blow and DJ Run, you have Don Henley and Glenn Frey. I like the Eagles nearly as much as the next guy, and there's much to learn and enjoy here. It ultimately devolves into a soap opera, mostly between Frey and Don Felder. And here I thought Don Henley was the douche. But there are cool tidbits like footage of Henley and Frey as up-and-comers in the backing band for Linda Ronstadt, and anything Joe Walsh does is fairly fascinating. Enjoyed it.
The Beastie Boys Story (2020) -- I knew this would be great. I read several unflattering reviews (Pitchfork, AV Club) that called it "no fun." I still knew it would be great. I hadn't heard any of my friends raving about it. I still knew it'd be great. And... it's great. I feel like I'm the perfect age to be a Beastie Boys fan. When LTI hit, I was a high-school juvenile delinquent Class Clown. As we've written here ad nauseum, when Paul's Boutique launched to crickets, were were jumping around the room heralding what must be a worldwide hit -- college is the perfect time to be exposed to experimentally dope new shit. CYH was a tiny bit more grown up, and we were nearly graduating (well, rob and Dave were). The "Sabotage" video broke and we were early 20's goofballs with jobs. By the time the three bad brothers were starting getting real respect (especially for albums gone by), we were older and commanding more respect than we had a right to. Still clowns, like the B-Boys, of course. This doc has it all, despite shlocky reviewer's cranky demands for surprises and mayhem. MCA is missed majorly and given a highly fitting tribute. It's great. Check it out.
The Van Halen Story: The Early Years (2003) -- This low-budget, straight to video obscurity piece was just entertaining enough. Spoiler alert: they paid for the rights to zero VH songs, so you won't hear any. Made me go straight to Spotify after and call up my faves. Also, they only rehash interviews with the band, nothing new -- but lots I hadn't seen. They do get lots of stories from roadies, security, and friends from coming up. Which is at times better than the sanitized version of wild tales you get from aged rockers. (Eagles, for example.) "Ed" and "Al" haaaaate "Roth." That's for damn sure. Almost as much as they hate "Dancing in the Street." This one entertained mildly for what it was.
We Jam Econo: The Story Of The Minutemen (2005) -- I loved this one. A long while back, a friend introduced me to The Minutemen. My first reaction was a recoil. Over decades, as I have dug in squarely on punk rock, I have come to love this kind of avant-garde punk. The Minutemen were not hardcore, they were honestly a step-and-a-half from Random Idiots, they were punk with a conscience, and they were beautiful. The documentary, exactly like the band, is pretty lo-fi. And it's solid. The lament of losing D. Boon so many years ago hits home, almost against all likelihood. This ain't no picnic, indeed.
loudQUIETloud: A Film About the Pixies (2006) -- I was late to the game on the Pixies. My first wife was a fan during their 1987-1991 existence, and I learned to love their stuff through her influence soon thereafter. Too late, of course. But they then regrouped in 2004, and we saw them at Constitution Hall in DC. Hell yes. This is a weird doc -- it isn't a retrospective, it's a behind-the-scenes look at the 2004/5 tour I mentioned. They'd reunited after 13 years, and interactions are awkward and yet uncontroversial, and there are excellent clips of songs from these shows but otherwise just some backstage banter that does not enthrall. Plus Black Francis with his shirt off.
It was very interesting to watch the Pixies one after The Minutemen. D. Boon and Mike Watt met with they were 13, and they were best friends until the end. They'd fight some, but like brothers. Loved one another. The four people in the Pixies met via a classified ad. They weren't friends and still aren't. They don't hate each other, but they were a great band the same way a successful small business often operates -- it was a job. They regrouped for money, clearly. It's almost deflating to fans, but hell, it's always about the music more than anything, and the music was and is exceptional to many of us.
I'll keep watching and conveying the highlights. 18 down thus far. Suggestions and feedback welcomed.
There is an official mantra at this blog about not taking things seriously or something like that. I can't be bothered to check in the manual to find out what it really is. And I guess there is some sort of unofficial vibe that this is a place to visit to escape the stress/annoyance/ennui of the real world. So content that is put up here should check these boxes.
But sometimes it can't. Because sometimes the content needs to show that we will stand up for the things we have conviction in. Even if the conviction is a palpable mix of fear and loathing that runs through every vein in your body, a feeling that dates back to November 2016, to a moment that feels like the beginning of the end of everything you ever felt comfortable about in your previous life.
I am speaking, of course, of the worst pop song of all-time. A song that wormholed its way into my head when I first heard it, and occasionally pops up on that gawdawful SiriusXM station The Blend that my 7 year-old occasionally requests.A song that a good friend called "a tsunami of douche". I love that phrase and have no idea what it means.
The song is Play That Song. The band is the tsunami of douche otherwise knows as Train. The first time I heard this song, I thought it might be a sex groove. After all, what would you think if you heard the line "Play that song, the one that makes me go all night long"? But is far from a sex groove. Far, far far from it. Instead, it is a make-your-johnson-shrivel-inward-like-the-head-of-a-frightened-tortoise kinda tune. It takes the classic piano riff Heart and Soul, strips away everything authentic and sincere about it, and adds layers of cheese, synth and sadness to create something terrible.
The video below speaks louder than my alcohol-soaked verbiage can. It is just so goddamn awful that it makes me want to cry and punch something. The addition of the piano rug at the 2:20 mark, a sad, sad, sad call-back to Big, somehow makes this whole thing even worse. I wouldn't bet on the lead singer in a fight against a piece of corn in Robert Loggia's feces, let alone against Josh Baskin. Over 12 million folks have watched this video. That makes me all kinds of sad. This song is not catchy in a good way or a bad way, like the jammer Pen Pineapple Apple Pen. It just...is.
If you did not know this song existed and resent me for bringing it to your attention, just remember that I am showing you a side of this American society that is very real. And very sad.
I am sorry for ruining your week with this post. The only antidote I have is some unadulterated rock and roll. So enjoy the tune below and try to unhear the tune above. Screw you, Train.
The last 3 weeks have been pretty good to Danimal who is 6-3 vs Mark’s 3-6, enabling the non-tattooed one to get within 2 games. (Dan is 20-18-1; Mark is 22-17).
Oooh…rivalry week! Listen, I apologize for last week’s slackishness. I will make up for it today, promise.
You want picks you greedy bastards…I’ll give ya picks!
Va Tech -13 at UVA, a.k.a. The Commonwealth Cup (3:30 p.m. EST)
The Hokies have won the last nine Cups, and 16 of the last 20 – a pretty nice stretch. This was a game I used to attend during my college and just out of college days. I remember Buckles attending one with me. My oldest sister lived there and was a season ticket holder with her assfaced husband, since divorced. Hi Keith. Dick. We ran out of beer or bourbon, or both at the tailgate. Don’t judge me, we were young and very poor. My sister’s good buddy Bill had scotch. So we drank it. Mixed it with a little water and a coupla rocks. Dewar’s if not mistaken. Buckles & I ended up crashing at Bill’s house. Bill liked to party. Hi Bill. Miss you.
Sorry, got off track there. So, Tech was a major disappointment this year. They played a great deal of uninspired football led by their super inconsistent quarterback Logan Thomas. And Frank Beamer – the man will, deservedly so, have a statue outside of their stadium at some point, but it’s time big guy. Time for you to pack up all your turkey calls and get on with your version of Duck Dynasty, kay fella? With losses to Duke, Maryland, and Boston College, why on earth would anyone pick you while giving away nearly 2 touchdowns to UVa, a team that hates you as much as you hate them, and a game that takes place in daVille? Well, I’ll tell you why! Because the Cavaliers have one of the worst teams in big boy football. They are 2-9 overall and 0-7 in the conference, the ACC. They don’t crack the top 100 in offense. Or Defense. WOMP WOMP! That is an unenviable position to be in going against a ginormous rival, who by the way has one of the best defenses in the country and will never ever tire of beating the Cavs. Oh, and playing in Charlottesville is about as scary as the haunted house in your kid’s kindergarten class, that is unless your entire team is allergic to the scent of chardonnay and gruyere. Lastly, you and your team NEVER play uninspired football against those douche nozzles from Vuhginia. And you won’t this time. You and your team, and your coach-in-waiting Bud Foster, the super Defensive Coordinator that he is, are going to put the smother on the Wahoos. Now go out there and get’r done, Frank. GET TA STEPPIN!
GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE! – Tech by 24
Notre Dame +14 at Stanford (7:00 p.m. EST)
I know this doesn’t quite go with Rivalry Week, but it’s the last regular season game of the year so I felt compelled to give you another Irish pick. I’m sure that makes several of you very happy, especially Zman. And TR. And Mark. And Rob. And Clarence. And that guy Whitney that used to hang out here. Yeah I know, it’ll make you happy when they lose. The likelihood of that is very good so until then carry on with your piss poor attitudes. Likelihood in this instance is defined as a 4 out of 5 chance. That’s 80% for you short on the math skeelz.
In August, I was counting this game as a definite loss. Now I think it’s a very likely loss but with possibilities. It hinges on you-know-who. Will “Touchdown Tommy” show up or “Tommy Turnover”. If the former, they keep it at least competitive and maybe even pull a shamrock out of their arses. With Stanford’s very solid running D, I’d guess that we’ll see a good # of Rees to TE Troy Niklas shorter routes. Niklas is a 6’7” TE who actually went to ND to be a lineman. And on the running side, true freshman and one of Mark’s old neighbors Tarean Folston is turning into what most predicted as one of the top 3 backs coming out of high school – bad-ass. Each week he gets more and more comfortable. He only has 347 yards on the season but 231 of those have come in November on 35 carries (6.6 yards – keep your calculator in your pocket).
On D, ND MUST get to the QB, Kevin Hogan, who by the way will have a chip on his shoulder because he wanted an offer from ND coming out of high school. The man that will be counted on to do so is future 1st rounder Stephon Tuitt. Hopefully he won’t have some bullshit targeting penalty like he had called early in the 2nd quarter against Pitt. Seriously, that was a horrific call. And Tuitt will need another true frosh to make a play or two – Jaylon Smith who like Folston, has made some big time plays over the last few weeks. Stanford is beatable – just ask USC & Utah. Irish Cover
IRON BOWL!!!! Bama -10.5 at Auburn! (3:30 p.m.)
A 10.5 favorite, on the road, against another Top 5 team. Hmmm.
This is going to be fun. With my #superdad feats of last weekend, guess who gets to watch college football for the better part of Saturday? (I failed to complain to GTB’rs on Sunday that I was solo w/all 3 while my wife and mother-in-law went to a “movie” that had her out of the house for 4 hours and 45 minutes, approximately) I probably shouldn’t get too far ahead of myself though – this could change at a moment’s notice. Wife now talking about getting tree and decorations up a week earlier this year for a few reasons yada yad yada. I will go into fetal position if that happens.
Let’s breakitdown!
Bama: #1 Defense. Aub: #2 Rushing Offense. Both near identical in total scoring. Auburn has two nice ball carriers, one of which is their QB Nick Marshall who averages 6.7 yards a carry. He’s their 2nd leading rusher. Tre Mason has 1100+ yards and averages 5.5 yards per carry. It’s the running QB that is going to help open things up a wee bit, that is IF he doesn’t fumble (cautionary note for Auburn leaners – Marshall has fumbled the ball 10 times this year).
LSU manhandled Auburn – the 2 TD margin was much better than it looked. Howevah, Auburn played a shit game on the road and in terrible weather. They lost the turnover margin and botched an attempted punt deep in their own territory which translated to a quick TD. And 2 of their other 3 turnovers also led to TD’s. In looking at Bama’s win against A&M, A&M also lost the turnover battle – one of which led to a 14-point swing with a short INT in Bama’s end zone. Whoops. Something tells me Gus and his fellow coaches have been preaching the turnover thing this week, a lot. So….here is what I am betting on – I am betting on Auburn breaking even or winning the turnover thing, and thus covering the line. IF they get to +2 on turnovers, I say they win. But like they say, if my aunt had balls she’d be my uncle. And by the way, which aunt are they talking about when the say that? Very confusing. WAR EAGLE!!!!
MARK PICKS
We're at the end of the College Football regular season already? It would appear so. Usually I'd be bummed out that we'd already reached the end of the road. However, this is one College Football season chart I'm happy to see end. I can only take watching Florida's anemic offense so much before I snap. Fortunately for you, there's a good chance I'll snap today while watching Florida State run roughshod over my alma mater on their home field. Will I watch today's game with the faintest glimmer of hope that a miracle could occur? Yes. Will I likely give up this hope by halftime and head to the gym to take out my frustrations? Absolutely. Listen, there are a number of other games worth watching today. It just so happens that Florida-Florida State isn't one of them. Anyway, on to the picks.
Ohio State @ Michigan +17.5
Michigan has been a colossal disappointment this year. They might be the only high profile team ranked in the preseason who has an offensive line that could rival the ineptitude of Florida. On top of that, first year QB Devin Gardner has been something beyond turnover prone. Turnover friendly? Turnover loving? Whatever. He turns the ball over a ton. On the other hand, Urban Meyer is doing what he always does during his second year at a new school. He's turning his team into a killing machine. Ohio State still has some holes on defense and their passing game comes and goes but they are far and away the class of the Big Ten. I think the Buckeyes are far better than Michigan but I can't quite convince myself to lay 17.5 on the road in a historic rivalry game. Go Blue.
Duke +5.5 @ North Carolina
Duke is in the midst of it's best season in, well, nearly forever. Duke hasn't been this good since before Steve Spurrier led them to three straight bowl games in the late 80s. North Carolina would like nothing more than to knock off the Blue Devils at home and earn some redemption for themselves in a season that's been somewhat of a disappointment. The Tarheels are on a roll of late, having won their last five games and absolutely embracing Old Dominion last week in a game that featured a 10 minute fourth quarter. There's a chance that Carolina pulls the upset here but either way the game's too close to give up 5.5 points. Take the Devils.
Kansas State -17 @ Kansas
This isn't quite the first game that comes to mind when someone mentions rivalry weekend. It is, however, a rivalry. A rivalry that often means more on the basketball court? Yes. But a rivalry nonetheless. Kansas has been garbage all year. Notching just on Big 12 win in a 31-19 home win against West Virginia. And while Kansas State isn't exactly a wrecking ball, they're still very much a tough, disciplined Bill Snyder type of football team. 17 points is a lot to lay on the road in a rivalry game but I'm confident that Charlie Weis and the Jayhawks can suck enough to make it worth it. Take the Wildcats and their awful, awful mascot for the win.
You may have heard this music news tidbit in the last month, and when you did, you may have thought of me. I've made no secret of my opinion of this "man." But he just keeps doing things to reaffirm that I'm right. (And I'm notalone.)
Just over three years ago, Beach Boy Mike Love won the title of Biggest Douche in Rock and Roll. In a landslide, amazingly. Earlier this summer, I took in the Beach Boys' 50th Anniversary Tour stop in Virginia Beach, and afterwards, I conceded that I enjoyed every bit of it, even the parts that Mike Love sang. But we couldn't just end on that high note, could we?
About a month ago, it was reported that after the completion of the current slate of tour dates, Mike Love would be sacking original B-Boys Brian Wilson, Al Jardine, as well as longtime BB musician David Marks. He will be going back to his usual touring band . . . the one he's toured with for years under the name The Beach Boys . . . you know, the one with Mike Love, Bruce Johnston, some other guys, and no Wilsons.
The incendiary headlines that followed weren't overstatements, though. I mean . . . Mike Love fired Brian Wilson and Al Jardine. It's actually difficult to find a parallel. It's like Ringo firing Paul and George and touring with his All-Starr Band under the moniker The Beatles. That's not a stretch. It's Dan Quayle dumping GHWB for the '92 run. It's me ousting Teej and Rob and insisting that I am Gheorghe: The Blog. It's outrageous, egregious, preposterous.
Naturally, the ballcapped one, having seen the backlash from the public, tried to justify what he did. And this is why, after having taken the high road, I'm chiming in after the fact. From the letter he took the time to publish in the Los Angeles Times:
"I did not fire Brian Wilson from the Beach Boys. I am not his employer. I do not have such authority. And even if I did, I would never fire Brian Wilson from the Beach Boys. I love Brian Wilson. We are partners. He's my cousin by birth and my brother in music."
Blah blah blah. Of course you did. But here's the best part. The fans loved seeing everyone back together, according to Rolling Stone...
"But Love says an ongoing reunion tour is 'impossible' because of other Beach Boys shows he had already booked that started to bump up against the reunion dates."
Are you kidding me??? Which iteration would the venues rather have on stage??? Which would the fans rather see???
"Look, man, I know David Lee Roth is back with the band, but I bought a ticket to see Gary Cherone, and that's what I want to see!" "Hey, it's great that Steve Perry has agreed to tour with you guys, but I don't think you understand. We booked the guy from American Idol, and that's who we want."
I understand that Mike Love might have existing contracts with the stiffs who have been portraying Beach Boys for years in what amounts to the best publicized cover band in America, but here's the deal: buy out their contracts, you money-grubbing asshole. You, the bald, bearded, scumbag who was too stingy to shell out money for your daughter's transplant and she died as a result, need to defy all odds and past performance and do the right thing, even if it costs you. The 50th Anniversary Tour is the last chance you have to engender some will that's not hideously ill. Some karma that isn't soul-eroding. This is all you've got. If you fuck this up, you may well die soon . . . and neither quickly nor painlessly.
Clarence has spoken.
Brian Wilson has, too. He wrote a great letter as a form of reply, worth a quick read in its entirety to see how a man who's been called genius since 1966 can be humble, grateful, reflective, conciliatory, and earnest . . . and how the same man who's been called crazy since 1969 can be articulate, level-headed, and reasonable. We should all be so crazy.
As far as I know I can't be fired--that wouldn't be cool. The negativity surrounding all the comments bummed me out. What's confusing is that by Mike not wanting or letting Al, David and me tour with the band, it sort of feels like we're being fired.
It's Al and my opinion that all of us together makes for a great representation of the Beach Boys. While I appreciate the nice cool things Mike said about me in his letter, and I do and always will love him as my cousin and bandmate, at the same time I'm still left wondering why he doesn't want to continue this great trip we're on. Al and I want to keep going because we believe we owe it to the music. In any case happy anniversary, I loved it and I think we knocked it out of the park for what it's worth.
Amen, brother. God only knows what that dipshit would be without you.
Last night I watched immeasurable douche Mike Love perform
to many thousands of people, and I loved it.
Weird.
As I mentioned yesterday, there were two reasons that I set
aside my disdain for the performer and shelled out quite a few bucks to take my
whole gang (my two kids, girlfriend, her two kids, and a French exchange
student . . . more on that later) to the Virginia Beach Amphitheater – my least
favorite venue in the area – to sit in 96-degree heat and watch a show put on
by a reasonable facsimile of a group my parents enjoyed in the 1960’s.
As I type that, it seems even more implausible that I dug
it, but I did.
The first reason I jumped at the chance to see the 50th
Anniversary tour of the Beach Boys was that I hadn’t ever before. Those of you who’ve seen my ridiculous,
not-quite-obsolete collection of compact discs knows that I am what they call a
“completist” (my parents call it “idiot”), passionate about getting pretty much
everything into my collection. I’m just
as bent on seeing shows. Although the spending money I had (and blew) in the
1990’s pre-kids has largely waned, and it’s not quite as simple these days, I
still have a dosage of fanaticism that neither doctors nor prudent significant
others can cure.
I’ve said it before, I take some sort of bizarre personal
contentment in the fact that I saw Jerry Garcia and Joey Ramone (not to mention
Dee and that curmudgeon Johnny) before they passed on to the great gig in the
sky. I’ve seen some bucket-list RnR
HoFers who are still kicking, acts like Springsteen and The Who and Neil Young
and Ray Davies and Bob Dylan (who was lousy, but still . . .). I planned to see the Stones with Flynn but
waited too long. I’ve seen the Allmans
with Dickey, the Beasties with MCA, and The Black Crowes with both Robinsons. I
saw Jimmy Buffett and Aerosmith before they were total jokes. When I missed bands before they parted ways,
I was happy to see them when they regrouped: The Police, The Pixies, The
Pogues, Phish . . . really, and band that begins with a P. And Devo, and Violent Femmes, and Camper van
Beethoven, and many more. I’ve seen Ween and the Flaming Lips, which
everyone with a sense of humor should do.
There are still many more on that list. But now I’ve seen the Beach Boys. Check.
Our friend Otis has a story I always remember, because it’s
the king. He saw Elvis in concert. He was 7 or 8, and his folks took him to the
show. Yes, this makes him even older
than I am, but it’s also a pretty cool conversation piece. My parents never saw the King in concert, and
none of their friends that I know did, either.
But one of my fraternity brothers did.
Kinda cool.
And here’s the segue to the second reason I was there last
night: because I could bring my children.
When my daughter Zoe was too young to know any better, I began the
process of influencing her musical tastes unduly. And the first band she ever loved was The
Beach Boys. Favorite song: “Help Me,
Rhonda.” And the look on her eyes when I
told her we were going to see them in concert far, far outweighed the look on my completed
rolled-up eyes when Mike Love told the crowd last night that he loved his first
car back in the 50’s but loves the Bentley he now drives even more. (Seriously, what a prick.)
Yes, once or twice last evening I wanted the sweltering heat
to claim a heart attack casualty in an Aloha shirt and a red baseball cap
onstage . . . but mostly I was thrilled to be there. We had seats in the 10th row or
so, and my little girl was, like Loverboy, lovin’ every minute of it. As the dads out there know, that would be
reason enough to go, and reason enough to enjoy it.
Except . . . I really liked the show. For myself.
The band(s) sounded spot-on, and included that appendix
because there were – count ‘em – 14 people on stage. Somewhere in the middle of the show, it
dawned on me . . . ah, this is probably the assemblage of Mike Love’s touring
band, Al Jardine’s as well, and maybe even Brian Wilson’s guys. These people have been “Beach Boys” or
something akin to it for, in some cases, decades.
Anyway, it was a big group with the three truly original
living members and a couple of other “original” guys; I guess it’s hard to keep
Bruce Johnston out of that club when he’s been playing with the group for 47
years or so. The sound was big, and it
sounded great.
Somewhere in the midst of it, I had to let my guard down
against Mike Love, dammit. He simply is
the voice everyone has known on so many of those old hits. That nerdy, nasally voice that displays less
vocal talent . . . but you know what?
They’re classics, and they blazed through 46 songs (!) in two sets and
an encore and left nothing on the table.
Love’s banter made me want to dismember him and burn his ballcap
collection (they showed yearbook photos on the big screen – he was pretty damn
bald in high school), but in the moment of “I Get Around,” when the lights got
bright and the crowd was cheering, eh . . . it was fun, fun, fun, and the
reason I go to shows as often as I can.
In 1988, when Axl was on top, he was a total dick – but he
was an awesome lead singer. I listen to
“Mr. Brownstone” and think that if he could’ve held it together, I’d be going
to hear him today . . . but he didn’t.
(You can’t be an ass AND suck.)
Same with a lot of people on the list – I don’t want to have a beer with
them, but when they’re on . . . yeah, I’ll buy a ticket.
So, make no mistake, last night only confirms that Mike Love
is still a douche. But he fronts my
daughter’s first favorite band, an all-time music group for the ages, and a
collection of old dudes who can still put on a show the reminds me why I love
rock and roll.
Definition of APPRECIATION noun \ə-ˌprē-shē-ˈā-shən, -ˌpri- also -ˌprē-sē-\ 1 a : judgment, evaluation; especially : a favorable critical estimate b : sensitive awareness; especially : recognition of aesthetic values c : an expression of admiration, approval, or gratitude
2 : increase in value
It’s the fourth installment of Gheorghe-mas, and it’s the fourth time we close it out with a dozen appreciations for the year. This year we’re bringing back the association of these appreciations with my favorite music of the year. The truth is, I only failed to do so last year because I had listened to very little new music in 2010. Last year was a crappy, crappy year for a lot of folks in our gang, including me; I only learned this year that my personal barometer for the year is, in part, how much new music I hear, acquire, and enjoy. Who knew?
Let’s kick off my appreciations with an old stand-by, my ongoing love of seeing live music. There just isn’t much that beats it, and even with dollars on the wane this year, I managed to hit more than my fair share of great shows:
The Avett Brothers
Drive-By Truckers
Phish
Stone Temple Pilots
Trombone Shorty
Wilco
I can thoroughly recommend any of these artists in a live setting. With tickets already bought for a show I mention below, as well as the Old 97’s, Cowboy Junkies, and yes, Adam Ant in 2012, looks like we’re off to a fine start for the next year.
Here’s how it used to work: I’d see old classmates like Zman every 3 or 4 Homecomings, maybe we’d talk music, and then we’d regale each other with stories about recent shows we’d seen. “Wow, wish I’d seen that show,” “Man, wish I’d known they were playing there,” and the like.
Here’s how the modern era of communication works: Zman posts the video to “Lonely Boy” pretty much as soon as the Keys were done filming it. Six weeks later, he sends me an e-mail with a link to the pre-sale for tickets to the Norfolk show in March. I get two General Admission tix online. A couple of days later, I send him an e-mail with info for a second pre-sale offering for the NYC tickets. The first show at MSG had sold out before he could land them, and he hadn’t seen this other opportunity. He subsequently scored a pair online.
God bless technology and its application to our collective rocking out to The Black Keys and many other acts. Without it, come March, Zman and I might be lonely boys indeed. Here's to Z, too.
Here's also to Squeaky, who continues to provide me discloads of music with neither prompting nor reciprocity. Thanks, as always, dude.
Rob referenced it ever so briefly in Day 11, but here’s another hat-tip to Shlara, if only for going out on a limb in a post that evoked a lot of other G:TBers’ stories and sentiments. We’re still pulling for you, Shlara, and we mean that in the dirtiest way possible. (Actually, I’m just glad you actually speak to me after my bad behaviors of our undergrad days.) Here’s also to Mark, who never bitched about a fairly debilitating injury – one that kept him from doing what made him happy – until it became extremely pertinent. Definitely feel for you, dude (ngs). And here’s to the G:TBers and FOG:TBs and everyone else with real-life struggles that, frankly, we can’t take less seriously. May our moronic little spitbowl here serve somewhat as a salve for what ails you.
2011, for me, can be categorized fairly succinctly:
Qtr 1: last three months of working for a tyrant
Qtrs 2 & 3: unemployed
Qtr 4: working at a job I love
The hell that was the 13 months of working for the -- without exaggeration -- worst human being I have ever met came to crashing close in March. I sent her a 3,500-word e-mail detailing the mismanagement, unprofessionalism, financial discrepancies, outright lies, and fraudulent activities she had demonstrated. Days later I was fired. Stay tuned, fans of the law.
For six months I was unemployed. You'd never know it from my lackluster G:TB output, but I was on the dole for half a year. Sucked pretty bad. Job opportunities rose and fell, but I managed to land a prominent position in a fantastic nonprofit. My role is to find jobs for people with disabilities, and it's more rewarding than any job I've held before it. I only hope to perform up to the levels they need, because the cause is worthy and these folks need work.
"Appreciating" this development is not a strong enough word. I am reveling in it. May you find a place of work that gives you satisfaction and appreciation, if not joy. Makes a world of difference.
In addition to my appreciation for the career turn, I’ve had quite a few random windfalls lately. For some reason, I’ve been winning pools and drawings left and right. Nearly every time I threw my name into a hat, it came up Igor. Not that it’s always a huge payday; it’s usually quite the opposite. I won a crap golf shirt and a key chain. I won two tickets for a ride on the American Rover, a local schooner vessel. I won $15 in a raffle in which I entered $1.
Sometimes it’s pretty damn good, though. We won an iPad from Shaw Floors & HGTV for our entry in their Before & After contest. I won the super-exec parking spot for the next year here at work. I have been in a neighborhood poker group for 4 years, playing once a month and never won the big game in those years – then in a huge, well publicized game in November, I won it all and took home a sizeable chunk of change, taking out some of the best players I know in succession. Tons of luck there, as the final hand I was dealt was – no lie – 6 and 9, unsuited. (5-7-8 on the flop.)
I’ve always felt like I was a pretty lucky guy, and despite some recent nosedives in my life, I still do. (Granted, my fantasy football team sucked and my Powerball/Mega Millions results are never even close . . . but I’m still more fortunate than the next guy.)
Seems like every Day 12 I lament the lousy sports teams for whom I root and find a silver lining in them to appreciate. The latter part of this task is getting mighty tough.
New York Mets: 77-85, 4th place, ownership ineptitude, Madoff implications, one of the faces of the franchises defected to Miami, not getting better any time soon
Washington Redskins: at best they will meet my 6-10 prediction, ownership ineptitude, embarrassments galore, Rex Grossman, not getting better any time soon
William & Mary football: ranked #1 preseason, finished 5-6, meh
William & Mary men’s hoops: currently 1-11, ranked #336, extreme meh
Washington Bullets: 23-59 last year, 68 wins over last 3 years, not getting better any time soon
Norfolk Tides (AAA baseball): 56-87, last place, 24.5 GB, not getting better any time soon
The Virginia Destroyers of the UFL won the title! Whoops, I never caught a down of it, though Marty Schottenheimer was winning games just 30 minutes away from my house. Meanwhile, my curiosity was piqued by the arrival of the Norfolk Sharx, an indoor soccer team in the MISL. I checked the paper two days ago, and here was the list of their results thus far:
Well, here’s the thing. I got into the College of William & Mary once upon a time because of three things: (1) a obvious clerical error; (2) my high school’s headmaster pulling some strings; and (3) because of one essay. In the essay I attempted to depict myself in stark contrast to the parade of trophy-hoisting winners and all-around champions that surely filled the applicant pool. Somewhere in the piece, I proclaimed, “You see, I have learned how to lose.” I detailed the extended woes of the varsity football team on which I played which went 1-9 two years in a row. I highlighted the disappointment of failing to make the varsity baseball team after hitting .351 for JV the year prior. I wrote in excruciating detail about losing our homecoming football game in part because the best catch I ever made was a foot out of bounds. (I didn’t need to expound upon my academic losses much, as my transcript told the bloody tale.) Man, I am one pathetic loser.
The College of Chris Wren saw fit to accept me, knowing I was more than ready for the steady stream of disappointments at W&M. Ironically, my favorite sports teams were in their championship-winning heyday then, in stark contrast to my own. Now, as good luck befalls me in other aspects of my life (see above), the sports teams I follow have hit a stupefying slump the likes I haven’t seen since . . . well, maybe my senior year at W&M. (There are droughts, and then there are W&M scoring droughts. Ah, yes, the disappointment.)
Hey – last night the Norfolk Sharx topped the Rochester Lancers, 18-16! So you’re telling me there’s a chance . . . and I appreciate it.
Here’s to unexpected pleasures. New things that you’d never expect to be good, old things you had written off long ago. Apple pie moonshine, unbelievably tasty. The Jayhawks regrouping and putting out an album. Oft-embattled and generally self-sabotaging Johnny G winning our fantasy football title. (Sorry, Rob.) Adam Ant on tour? Count me in.
Maybe this will breed optimism about things I’d naysay, things like, say, The Beach Boys regrouping and making an appearance at JazzFest in April. Based on this interview with Mike Fucking Love (seriously, read each answer . . . what a self-absorbed prick), nothing has changed with the champ-de-douche. But with Brian and Al and Bruce Johnston there, it could be pretty spectacular. Or maybe Mike Love could fall off the stage and injure himself badly.
I dig me a good cover tune. I did when I typed this screed in 2004, and I continue to scour the music soundscape for creative and worthy renditions of old songs. The ones listed above are outstanding; the version of the Wilco song is killer, with Archie Bell, Sam & Dave, and Otis Day influences. Here’s a listen of solid efforts from 2011 I also enjoyed:
You only get one chance to make a first impression. And the first impressions that I get are usually way, way wrong.
Dave was a greasy weird guy from NJ that I’d never hang with after freshman year. Well, actually he’s a guy I still drive hours to see, one of the smartest dudes I’ve met, and my absolute foil on this planet. (Still weird, though.) TJ was a brash blowhard. Well, actually he’s a highly introspective and considerate guy behind the curtain. (Don't tell anyone.) TR, Zman, and Marls were uppity young dweebs unworthy to follow in our fraternity’s stead. Well, actually, they’re all rock solid with more interesting things to say in a deferential way than most people I know. (In truth, I always thought TR was pretty cool.) Jerry was an idiot. Well, actually, Jerry is a savant. Mark was a curmudgeon. Well, actually, Mark can be insightful and agreeable. Moreso when the Gators play well. Dennis was fairly out of touch with the G:TB constituency. Well, actually, go read his brilliant Day 10. Rob was a geeky little guy that I’d never hang with after freshman year. Well, actually, he’s the best friend a fellow could ask for, a mountain of character in a tiny little frame, and a guy I look forward to hanging with and poking fun at many times a year for years to come.
Okay, so Dave covered guilty pleasures in his loathsome Day 8, but I already had this jotted down as an appreciation. I have always had a few embarrassing likes in my cabinet. I'm an unabashed fan of Sandra Bullock. And Patrick Swayze. And Sandra Bernhard. And Teejay. I thought "WKRP" was actually a really good show. As was "Simon & Simon." I liked Bobby Valentine. And Hubie Brooks. And Brent Price and Robert Pack. And Alvin Walton.
Musically, there are too many to mention, beyond Adam & the Ants. The ones listed above are "guilty" mostly because my daughters like them, poppy and popular all the way. But they're pretty good. The Coldplay tune in particular offends my musical sensibilities, to use the rock snob vernacular. It's synthy, lyrically vapid, and cheesy in some attempt to be anthemic; it's like a U2 throwaway. But damn if it isn't pretty catchy.
In the past, there have also been a couple of guilty pleasures I started to like only after a particular incident. I fell asleep in a car in 1993 and Eric Clapton's "Tears in Heaven," a song I did not care for, permeated my rem sleep from the car stereo; I had a dream about the death of his son (the basis of the song), and woke up kind of digging the song after all. Yeah, I'm a little weird, too.
And then there's "Stairway to Heaven." Overplayed throughout my radio-listening childhood, it was the embodiment of extravagant rock and roll of the 1970's. Ugh. Except when I was in a car following Flynn's one day, cruising down I-66 towards somewhere, he signaled to me on his meathook gnarled fingers 9-4-7. FM 94.7, the classic rock station. I flipped it over. "Stairway to Heaven." Flynn was more of a modern rock guy, a U2/R.E.M./Wilco guy, but there he was, jamming out in his Explorer to Page and Plant. By the time it got to Bonzo's entre, we had our arms elevated out our respective car windows, air drumming like dorks down the highway.
Flynn died some months later. I probably dredge up Flynn, Evan, and Lud stories all too often around these parts, but part of my job for all my years to come is to stoke the embers of their memories. I'll do the same for any of you who pass before me. Flynn left us five years ago this past Tuesday. Lud and Evan went 10 years ago this year. Here's to them and everyone else among our respective gangs who have gone along to the great beyond. You know who they are and what they have meant. Remember, like Lud said, "Children were a lot younger when my dad was a kid." (?)
Anyway, this appreciation isn't just for them, but for all the rest of you clowns as well. There's a saying I've heard, "Don't trust anyone who doesn't have old friends." Well, I feel pretty trustworthy on that criteria. Simon & Garfunkel's song "Old Friends" had a line:
Can you imagine us years from today, sharing a parkbench quietly How terribly strange to be seventy
Well, Paul Simon was 26 when he wrote it. He turned 70 this year. Here's hoping he has old friends (besides Art) to do things like get drunk in the Corner Tavern and hit the greasetrucks or go to the OBFT with him.
More sap from A Very Special Episode of Igor:
“Life is partly what we make it, and partly what it is made by the friends we choose.” ― Tennessee Williams
“A friend is someone who sees through you and still enjoys the view.” ― Wilma Askinas
“Friends are God's way of apologizing for your family.” ― Wayne W. Dyer
Random Idiots, “Dr. Seuss” (20th anniversary re-release)
-- So Paul’s Boutique was released in 1989. When we moved into the frat house that fall, Dave brought it with him and excitedly told me about it the very first time I saw him. He, Rob and I then listened to it 200 times. -- Just like us, all-timer Miles Davis was quoted as saying he never tired of listening to the album. -- Dr. Seuss passed away on Tuesday, September 24, 1991. The same day a lot of good music came out. -- The next day, Dave came in my room with an idea for a new song. It would be about how Dr. Seuss used his pseudonym’s faux-doctorate to score chicks. He was on his way to class and gave me two couplets that he insisted be the foundation for the song:
Dr. Seuss ain’t no MD / but he was always into someone’s pan-ties Dr. Seuss ain’t no gynecologist / but all the ladies know his fist
-- That was enough, and I inked the rest of it while he was in the class I was skipping. -- Early that Saturday evening after a good amount of drinking, Dave, Hightower, and I piled into the fraternity men’s room (for outstanding acoustics) with two other cats and recorded “Dr. Seuss” on cassette. The vocal and guitar styling were lifted directly from the Beastie Boys, unabashedly so. The rest is musical history. -- And Miles Davis died that same day – September 28, 1991.
The confluence is so eerie, as if it were meant to be. Three legendary musical acts inextricably linked by one fateful week and the Lorax.
Anyway, I appreciate Dave being such a random idiot.
Here's to 2011, which was a fair bit better than 2010. Here's to 2012; may we all see the end of it, and may I pretty much spew the same shit out in Day 12 again next year. In the meantime, happy listening, and Happy New Year.
After carefully evaluating the one entry received for the First Annual G:TB Circus Peanuts Diorama Contest, we at G:TB are pleased to announce that we have a winner! It is the sample entry, constructed by Mr. Truck, with toy soldiers, the requisite circus peanuts, and Sriracha hot sauce (which is much gorier than ketchup). Congratulations, Mr. Truck: may you never have to eat a circus peanut again.
To be honest, I thought the circus peanut diorama contest was destined for the annals of "G:TB columns that promise recurrence but then never recur." For example, remember this one? But yesterday my colleague Stacey tossed a bag of circus peanuts on the communal food table in the office. She was hoping someone might make a diorama out of them, but then something better happened: we got to watch a circus peanut virgin eat his first peanut. Within moments, he became angry, and despite my fun facts from the original post . . . America's oldest candy! . . . four million ponds sold annually! . . . very difficult to get the right consistency! . . . he was appalled that people actually ate them on a regular basis. He described their flavor as "dusty Peptol Bismol" and complained of a strange "coating in his mouth." Not bad, although I think my description was more poetic: "their texture, when fresh, is that of congealed shaving foam, and once stale, a hard plastic shell forms around their dissolving guts . . . they taste like rotten bananas sprayed with Clorox." That's beautiful writing.
A few other circus peanut veterans went ahead and revisited the flavor of the circus peanut-- which was also entertaining-- and someone made the inevitable Freudian slip and called them "circus penis."
This got me thinking. Obviously "icing" is the Epitome of Douche. But tossing a bag of circus peanuts on the table is not nearly as retarded, and you get some of the same entertainment value. And, it is SFW. So I am going to start carrying around a bag, and attempt to "peanut" people (which sounds a lot dirtier than "icing" someone). I think the rules are similar to "icing" in that if they have some other kind of ridiculous candy on their person, they can force me to eat my own circus peanut and I will also have to sample their candy (those stupid dots of colored sugar on the roll of white paper would be an excellent parry to a circus peanut-- I deny that anyone can eat those without ingesting large amounts of the paper, which does not taste good at all. Or those wax bottles of weird tasting sugar water . . . neither the wax nor the colored sugar water tastes very good. Also an excellent defense against the peanut.)
I'm so excited by this new fad which I am sure will soon take the nation by storm, that I am re-opening the Circus Peanut Diorama Contest! If you need to familiarize yourself with the rules, you can read them here. And if you have never eaten a circus peanut, you need to try one pronto.
ReMastered: Devil at the Crossroads (2019) -- This was a tidy, little Netflix piece on the pioneer bluesman Robert Johnson and the generations of intrigue that have surrounded his eerily quick rise from kid with a guitar he couldn't much play to blues god. The story is well-presented and frankly sells itself -- selling one's soul to the Devil for talent. And then there's his death at age 27. And the fact that (until last month) there were only two photographs ever taken of the man. When I lived across the way from Dave in the fraternity house, he bought a box set of Robert Johnson. I didn't know who the dude was. Turns out many a blues riff and/or style of playing -- which begat many a rock and roll riff and style of playing -- is attributed to one man. At 48 minutes, check it out.
loudQUIETloud: A Film About the Pixies (2006) -- I was late to the game on the Pixies. My first wife was a fan during their 1987-1991 existence, and I learned to love their stuff through her influence soon thereafter. Too late, of course. But they then regrouped in 2004, and we saw them at Constitution Hall in DC. Hell yes. This is a weird doc -- it isn't a retrospective, it's a behind-the-scenes look at the 2004/5 tour I mentioned. They'd reunited after 13 years, and interactions are awkward and yet uncontroversial, and there are excellent clips of songs from these shows but otherwise just some backstage banter that does not enthrall. Plus Black Francis with his shirt off.
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