-Cruising Craigslist postings to ogle pictures of rugs and sofas at bargain prices is an enjoyable past-time.
-You pick up the Shaw's shopper guide and take it home to find out what produce is on sale.
-You observe a family dining at a restaurant and think to yourself, "I really want to have children."
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Best music of 2007
There's a copy of The Tech's certified choices for the best albums of 2007 online here. It was published a week or so ago, and I'm pretty pleased with it; I think it's actually better than last year. It's a mash-up of choices both Sarah and I made, but since she is editor, her deck of choices was shuffled significantly higher than mine. I don't really have a problem with Radiohead being on the list, but I don't think it should be #1 just because... well, I don't want to pick on Sarah publicly. The only other gripe is that I don't know what the hell White Rabbits is all about. Overall, it is a good list though, and I hope we make a lot of readers feel out of the loop and stupider than us.
I had been under the impression that we were also going to write about the best songs of 2007, and I was out of contact with Sarah for a while frantically typing those up whilst traveling by train between Worcester and Boston. I was just about finished when she told me that songs weren't going to be factored into the article. Phooey. Actually, it was a blessing because I didn't like how they were turning out anyways, but there are some parts that I wrote that I really liked. It's just that overall, I had a bad feeling about it. So my work doesn't go to waste, I'll show what I had written (in rough draft form):
LCD Soundsystem – “Someone Great”
When your whole world goes wrong, why won’t everyone else’s? “The coffee isn’t even bitter” the morning after a break-up for LCD Soundsystem's James Murphy, and he's "stunned it's not raining." How stupid is it that we anthropomorphize nature to the extent that we expect it to acknowledge our lives, our grief with omens and signs? I guess it's something we depend on so we can convince our egos that we're each the center of our own universe. Coming to understand that can hurt, but that's not what "Someone Great" is really there to tell you. Mostly, it embodies that devastating feeling that comes when you become acutely aware of how much you leaned on someone or something right after it's pulled out from underneath you. The song hits with the weight of a plunging anchor with downcast keyboards sounding irretrievably sunken. This is, almost paradoxically, a dance track, a quality that is somehow critical to it being the knockout track of the year. It must have to do with the ironic parallel between dancing and mourning. You're living solely in the present for both, but in the latter scenario, it's because you dare not look ahead. As Murphy clings to emotional stability he weakly assures himself, "we're safe for the moment."
Bloc Party – “I Still Remember”
Though their second album, A Weekend in the City, struggled to stay consistent, it reached the same heights as their debut through standout tracks such as “I Still Remember.” The song is cut from the same mold as “So Here We Are,” an earlier Bloc Party favorite with a guitar line that glistens like the reflections off a chandelier. Where “So Here We Are” is placid, however, “I Still Remember” is exuberant with the lightness of being in love, and true to the band’s form, it might have the most memorable guitar hook of the year. If I had my way, you’d see this song in the next Rock Band download package, but there’s the issue of sexual ambiguity in the singer’s object of affection (“We left our trousers by the canal…I kept your tie”). Does anyone feel like belting out a gay love story? Rock ‘n roll!
Animal Collective – “For Reverend Green” & “Winter Wonderland”
Animal Collective’s latest album Strawberry Jam plays like a best hits collection, by which I mean something both bad and good. On one hand, the album is sequenced so that the tracks all feel like a bunch of competing egos trying to mingle. On the other hand, those same tracks are amazing to experience one at a time. The best of these, “For Reverend Green” and “Winter Wonderland,” could not be further apart in mood and aesthetic. The former is harsh and humid like the churning engine room of a ship with Avey Tare’s vocals sailing high over Deakon’s friction-charged guitar scrapings. The latter is as breezy and blissful as a sled ride down a hill with a percussion section that sounds like it was played on icicles in a snowy cavern. On multiple fronts, Animal Collective continues to push the frontiers of what is considered great rock and make it sound easy.
Radiohead – “All I Need”
The most dangerous thing Radiohead could’ve done to my fanhood was mess this one up, because “All I Need” was the best song on In Rainbows before it was even recorded. The band debuted it during their American tour of 2006, and even the low-quality YouTube footage was mesmerizing. Phil Selway’s drums were towering and cavernous, and Thom Yorke’s voice was at its most subordinate: “I am a moth who just wants to share your light/ I am an insect trying to get out of the night.” The drums are scaled way down on the album version, but the soul of the song, Colin Greenwood’s mournful bass-line, remains intact. Yorke’s wails over a discordant piano outro, “It’s all right/ It’s all wrong,” driving home the turmoil that comes from being defeated by one’s own pure devotion.
Of Montreal – “Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse”
How married are you to the notion of controlling your own destiny? Your answer may be subject to change when every choice ahead of you is certain to bring nothing but suffering. A possible solution: chemicals! Unfortunately, Kevin Barnes of Of Montreal found his drugs as harsh a mistress as the wife from whom he separated, but by convincing his chemicals not to ”strangle [his] pen,” he was able to spin out this wild, electro-pop gem. Barnes initially tries to will his psyche back together by crying, “C’mon, mood, shift/ shift back to good again” as loud, humming keyboards warble like a car trying to start. From there on, however, “Heimdalsgate” becomes joyful and almost outrageous, but with his begging that the current high won’t ever end, Barnes understands that eventually he has to fall apart all over again.
The National – “Mistaken For Strangers”
Matt Berninger, in his distinctive baritone, sings of the minor tragedy of being “mistaken for strangers by your own friends” after you suit up and fall into the office drone routine, but his voice seethes with bitterness as if it’s those friends who should feel guilty. A hollow, ascending guitar line brings steady tension to the verses until the full band releases it in a pounding chorus that damns you for your “uninnocent elegant fall into the unmagnificent lives of adults.” Being corrupted and forsaken in the most “unmagnificent” way possible never felt this viciously gratifying.
I had been under the impression that we were also going to write about the best songs of 2007, and I was out of contact with Sarah for a while frantically typing those up whilst traveling by train between Worcester and Boston. I was just about finished when she told me that songs weren't going to be factored into the article. Phooey. Actually, it was a blessing because I didn't like how they were turning out anyways, but there are some parts that I wrote that I really liked. It's just that overall, I had a bad feeling about it. So my work doesn't go to waste, I'll show what I had written (in rough draft form):
LCD Soundsystem – “Someone Great”
When your whole world goes wrong, why won’t everyone else’s? “The coffee isn’t even bitter” the morning after a break-up for LCD Soundsystem's James Murphy, and he's "stunned it's not raining." How stupid is it that we anthropomorphize nature to the extent that we expect it to acknowledge our lives, our grief with omens and signs? I guess it's something we depend on so we can convince our egos that we're each the center of our own universe. Coming to understand that can hurt, but that's not what "Someone Great" is really there to tell you. Mostly, it embodies that devastating feeling that comes when you become acutely aware of how much you leaned on someone or something right after it's pulled out from underneath you. The song hits with the weight of a plunging anchor with downcast keyboards sounding irretrievably sunken. This is, almost paradoxically, a dance track, a quality that is somehow critical to it being the knockout track of the year. It must have to do with the ironic parallel between dancing and mourning. You're living solely in the present for both, but in the latter scenario, it's because you dare not look ahead. As Murphy clings to emotional stability he weakly assures himself, "we're safe for the moment."
Bloc Party – “I Still Remember”
Though their second album, A Weekend in the City, struggled to stay consistent, it reached the same heights as their debut through standout tracks such as “I Still Remember.” The song is cut from the same mold as “So Here We Are,” an earlier Bloc Party favorite with a guitar line that glistens like the reflections off a chandelier. Where “So Here We Are” is placid, however, “I Still Remember” is exuberant with the lightness of being in love, and true to the band’s form, it might have the most memorable guitar hook of the year. If I had my way, you’d see this song in the next Rock Band download package, but there’s the issue of sexual ambiguity in the singer’s object of affection (“We left our trousers by the canal…I kept your tie”). Does anyone feel like belting out a gay love story? Rock ‘n roll!
Animal Collective – “For Reverend Green” & “Winter Wonderland”
Animal Collective’s latest album Strawberry Jam plays like a best hits collection, by which I mean something both bad and good. On one hand, the album is sequenced so that the tracks all feel like a bunch of competing egos trying to mingle. On the other hand, those same tracks are amazing to experience one at a time. The best of these, “For Reverend Green” and “Winter Wonderland,” could not be further apart in mood and aesthetic. The former is harsh and humid like the churning engine room of a ship with Avey Tare’s vocals sailing high over Deakon’s friction-charged guitar scrapings. The latter is as breezy and blissful as a sled ride down a hill with a percussion section that sounds like it was played on icicles in a snowy cavern. On multiple fronts, Animal Collective continues to push the frontiers of what is considered great rock and make it sound easy.
Radiohead – “All I Need”
The most dangerous thing Radiohead could’ve done to my fanhood was mess this one up, because “All I Need” was the best song on In Rainbows before it was even recorded. The band debuted it during their American tour of 2006, and even the low-quality YouTube footage was mesmerizing. Phil Selway’s drums were towering and cavernous, and Thom Yorke’s voice was at its most subordinate: “I am a moth who just wants to share your light/ I am an insect trying to get out of the night.” The drums are scaled way down on the album version, but the soul of the song, Colin Greenwood’s mournful bass-line, remains intact. Yorke’s wails over a discordant piano outro, “It’s all right/ It’s all wrong,” driving home the turmoil that comes from being defeated by one’s own pure devotion.
Of Montreal – “Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse”
How married are you to the notion of controlling your own destiny? Your answer may be subject to change when every choice ahead of you is certain to bring nothing but suffering. A possible solution: chemicals! Unfortunately, Kevin Barnes of Of Montreal found his drugs as harsh a mistress as the wife from whom he separated, but by convincing his chemicals not to ”strangle [his] pen,” he was able to spin out this wild, electro-pop gem. Barnes initially tries to will his psyche back together by crying, “C’mon, mood, shift/ shift back to good again” as loud, humming keyboards warble like a car trying to start. From there on, however, “Heimdalsgate” becomes joyful and almost outrageous, but with his begging that the current high won’t ever end, Barnes understands that eventually he has to fall apart all over again.
The National – “Mistaken For Strangers”
Matt Berninger, in his distinctive baritone, sings of the minor tragedy of being “mistaken for strangers by your own friends” after you suit up and fall into the office drone routine, but his voice seethes with bitterness as if it’s those friends who should feel guilty. A hollow, ascending guitar line brings steady tension to the verses until the full band releases it in a pounding chorus that damns you for your “uninnocent elegant fall into the unmagnificent lives of adults.” Being corrupted and forsaken in the most “unmagnificent” way possible never felt this viciously gratifying.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Guy from High School
The other day I was at the hospital, and after finishing my appointment, I went to the small food court that consisted solely of an Au Bon Pain and a Sbarro's. At the Sbarro's I ordered a couple slices and waited at the register, and manning said register was a guy I knew from high school. I said hi to him as I paid for my food, and he recognized me fairly quickly. We were never really friends, but he lived down the road from me and once lent me Super Smash Bros because we both liked Nintendo. He was one of those people who took the bus to and from school well into high school (myself included) because they didn't have a car or weren't allowed to use it. At the time, I couldn't tell if he was depressed by that fact as much as I was, but we did have some interesting conversations on that bus. After 9/11, he was convinced that the super bowl was going to be fixed in favor of the Patriots to bring up the country's morale. He said, "Don't you see? Their name is the 'Patriots' and they're being praised in the press for their great 'defense', just like America's defense against terrorism!" We also gossiped about video games and agreed that "Apocalypse Now" is an overrated movie, but the bus was the only time we interacted because he was in a grade older than me.
He smiled as we made small talk across the register. Was he happy with his job working at the Sbarro's in the hospital food court? Was it a transitional job or had he been there since graduation? Did he even go to college? I didn't ask these things, but I wondered about all three simultaneously to some extent as my two pizza slices slowly toasted. The slices were ready at just the right time, because I'd finished answering all three stock questions: i went to MIT, I studied math, and I'm in a transitional period looking for jobs. I should walk around with tape players that say those three things, like Brian Wilson at that meeting with his record label.
I had a classmate two years younger than me in high school who someone described to me once as an elitist who knows that he's an elitist. At the time, I couldn't understand how a person could be like that and be okay with it, but now I'm understanding.
He smiled as we made small talk across the register. Was he happy with his job working at the Sbarro's in the hospital food court? Was it a transitional job or had he been there since graduation? Did he even go to college? I didn't ask these things, but I wondered about all three simultaneously to some extent as my two pizza slices slowly toasted. The slices were ready at just the right time, because I'd finished answering all three stock questions: i went to MIT, I studied math, and I'm in a transitional period looking for jobs. I should walk around with tape players that say those three things, like Brian Wilson at that meeting with his record label.
I had a classmate two years younger than me in high school who someone described to me once as an elitist who knows that he's an elitist. At the time, I couldn't understand how a person could be like that and be okay with it, but now I'm understanding.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Juno
Along with "No Country for Old Men" and "There Will Be Blood" (which hasn't found wide release just yet), "Juno" was on my list of to-do movies this holiday season, so I went and saw it. My mom made me take my little brother, but I can deal with his presence by treating him like poop. Parking behind the movie theater was a real bitch, and I was cursing up a storm as I circled the parking lot and finding nothing. Then I saw a car backing out of a space, and I thought my search was over, but there was already a minivan on the other side of the space laying claim to it. The driver must've noticed my interest in the space because they turned on their blinker as if to say "I'm going THERE, get it?" I was in a right pissy mood because of the slushy weather and the movie was just about to start, so i was half-leaning to taking the spot right from under the other driver. It was my little brother who pushed me over the edge, oddly enough, by cackling, "Do it! Take it! Ha ha ha!" I kind of did want that space, and I had the better angle to get in, so I took it while the minivan driver leaned on their horn in rage. My and my brother were absolutely thrilled with the evil deed we'd just perpetrated. We were also giddy with fear that we might meet the other driver in the theater or that they would key up our car. Anyways, I don't know if that incident tainted my experience of the film itself or not.
I went into "Juno" wanting to like it - the same way I went into "No Country Old Men." I always want to like the same movies as other people because it makes for interesting conversation. This goes nearly contrary to my philosophy of music appreciation, obviously, and I've suffered for that by having some awkward, dead-end musical conversations. I usually can't help what I like, though. In the case with "Juno", I couldn't help but feel that the movie was essentially disposable. Like "Little Miss Sunshine" or "Eagle vs. Shark" and things of that like, it is so clearly packaged to be a quirky outsider flick to the extent that it's off-putting. Unlike "Little Miss Sunshine", "Juno" doesn't have a compelling ending or particularly endearing moments or characters to redeem it. Michael Cera has disappointingly little to do or say here, and he might even be miscast here. Though his youthful looks and unsexy demeanor are probably meant to give the impression that he is not nearly mature enough for the situation he's dropped into, he never comes across as the soul-mate material for Juno that he needs to be for the film to succeed. Essentially, all we know are that he and her are in a garage band together where they play crappy Moldy Peaches songs and share no chemistry.
The dramatic arc of the film actually has little to do with the pregnancy itself or its preparation, but with Juno's relationships with Paulie (Cera), her parents, and the adoptive parents of her child, and it's introduced late in the movie and dealt with in the most predictable way possible. The arguments and obstacles that present themselves are very foreseeable as well as mild in scale (something the film shares with "Knocked Up"), and I can't really spoil the message of the film because it's in the trailer: "The best you can do is find someone who loves you for exactly who you are" or something to that effect. Really? Find someone who will put up with my shit? I'll write that one down in my notebook after to "Don't eat silica gel."
I left the movie wondering what it is I want from viewing a film, in general. I guess it's a whole lot of retarded fun to quote lines with my friends and share a laugh, but I don't think padding a movie's dialogue with zingers gives it quality. There has to be something there that cannot be conveyed through any other medium but the film itself. The greatness of the film cannot be written about or talked about to any satisfying extent; it can only be experienced and known. I'm probably talking about the art-entertainment distinction as I see it. Great art seems to have a mysterious repellant shield that prevents it from being truly encapsulated or summarized without losing its essence. This is an unfortunate paradox! The more that a piece of music, film, or painting means to you or I, the more impossible it is to communicate that meaning. The more precise and tangible the language we use, the less we say. For instance, if I tell you "I love you," you only kind of know what I mean even though it could be a fact. However, if I use some poetic idiom like "I have butterflies in my stomach when I see you" or "You take my breath away," you better understand what my "love" means. Art, with its vagueries and half-notions, is the only true method of communicating thoughts and feelings.
I guess I got so caught up in this philosophical exercise, I don't know whether I'm being completely lame or not. I think I've just taken a page from some introductory course on art from a state school and tagged it deep thought... welcome to the blogosphere, everyone!
I went into "Juno" wanting to like it - the same way I went into "No Country Old Men." I always want to like the same movies as other people because it makes for interesting conversation. This goes nearly contrary to my philosophy of music appreciation, obviously, and I've suffered for that by having some awkward, dead-end musical conversations. I usually can't help what I like, though. In the case with "Juno", I couldn't help but feel that the movie was essentially disposable. Like "Little Miss Sunshine" or "Eagle vs. Shark" and things of that like, it is so clearly packaged to be a quirky outsider flick to the extent that it's off-putting. Unlike "Little Miss Sunshine", "Juno" doesn't have a compelling ending or particularly endearing moments or characters to redeem it. Michael Cera has disappointingly little to do or say here, and he might even be miscast here. Though his youthful looks and unsexy demeanor are probably meant to give the impression that he is not nearly mature enough for the situation he's dropped into, he never comes across as the soul-mate material for Juno that he needs to be for the film to succeed. Essentially, all we know are that he and her are in a garage band together where they play crappy Moldy Peaches songs and share no chemistry.
The dramatic arc of the film actually has little to do with the pregnancy itself or its preparation, but with Juno's relationships with Paulie (Cera), her parents, and the adoptive parents of her child, and it's introduced late in the movie and dealt with in the most predictable way possible. The arguments and obstacles that present themselves are very foreseeable as well as mild in scale (something the film shares with "Knocked Up"), and I can't really spoil the message of the film because it's in the trailer: "The best you can do is find someone who loves you for exactly who you are" or something to that effect. Really? Find someone who will put up with my shit? I'll write that one down in my notebook after to "Don't eat silica gel."
I left the movie wondering what it is I want from viewing a film, in general. I guess it's a whole lot of retarded fun to quote lines with my friends and share a laugh, but I don't think padding a movie's dialogue with zingers gives it quality. There has to be something there that cannot be conveyed through any other medium but the film itself. The greatness of the film cannot be written about or talked about to any satisfying extent; it can only be experienced and known. I'm probably talking about the art-entertainment distinction as I see it. Great art seems to have a mysterious repellant shield that prevents it from being truly encapsulated or summarized without losing its essence. This is an unfortunate paradox! The more that a piece of music, film, or painting means to you or I, the more impossible it is to communicate that meaning. The more precise and tangible the language we use, the less we say. For instance, if I tell you "I love you," you only kind of know what I mean even though it could be a fact. However, if I use some poetic idiom like "I have butterflies in my stomach when I see you" or "You take my breath away," you better understand what my "love" means. Art, with its vagueries and half-notions, is the only true method of communicating thoughts and feelings.
I guess I got so caught up in this philosophical exercise, I don't know whether I'm being completely lame or not. I think I've just taken a page from some introductory course on art from a state school and tagged it deep thought... welcome to the blogosphere, everyone!
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Roundup
-I consciously avoided devoting space in my In Rainbows article to discussion over whether certain songs from the bonus disc could or could not have been a good fit on the main disc. I felt like that was an obvious thing to talk about, and I would've felt boring doing so, but privately I've been fiddling with the tracklist to see whether I could make a better, stronger album out of In Rainbows by swapping in and out songs from the bonus disc while still preserving the original essence of the album. I think the first half of In Rainbows is nearly perfect, so I'm not tinkering with that. Even though I'm not ga-ga over "Nude," I think it's essential to the sensual aesthetic of the album. All I've done so far is replace "Reckoner" with "Down is the New Up" and "Videotape" with "4-Minute Warning." Results so far are pending because I'll have to re-listen to the album after the changes.
This then got me thinking: what if an artist released an album that was not an album, i.e. an album's-worth collection of songs with no order to them. Each individual listener would then decide for themselves what they believed should be the running order and arrange the tracks accordingly. The 'album' would have to be released digitally, of course, preferably from a website where the tracks could be downloaded in a fashion that doesn't showcase them in some particular order (so the listener wouldn't be tempted to try to guess what the band's 'intended' tracklist was). Maybe the band could outline some rules, like if there were 14 tracks total, the listener could pick at least 10 to be in their running order and up to 4 B-sides. Is this whole scheme gimmicky or would it give artistic legitimacy to a past-time that music fans already experiment with? Until Brian Wilson's Smile was released, Beach Boys fans were practically forced to create their own individual Smile mix-tapes out of abandoned demos. I once made a playlist called "Kid Amnesiac" that culled the best of each of those albums into one monster collection. I guess if Radiohead really wanted to blow up the music industry a second time, this could be their next move.
-Yay, I won the Super Bowl in Madden in All-Pro difficulty. I went into an absolute zone during the playoffs (I think I only threw one interception total in those four games), and I even had to go through the Colts. I figured out how to get to Peyton Manning, and it might've been a little unfair, but it's really annoying to wait for him to audible 3-4 times on each snap. I just kept audibling my defense every time Manning audibled, so I was basically switching my coverage scheme every time he recognized it (which I think is cheating on his part!). Eventually, the play clock would run down and Manning would have to snap the ball with whatever coverage I had decided, and it ended up being less than ideal for him. We traded scores through three quarters, until I realized that he loved to throw to Reggie Wayne, so I started overloading coverage on him (usually with an OLB going into a drop-zone on his size of the field). It worked! I got a game-icing interception with my linebacker who was covering Wayne in a drop-zone, and I advanced to the Super Bowl against the Falcons.
The Falcons had Michael Vick (heheh) which Madden made into some six-million dollar man super-god. He threw 3 TD passes of 50 or more yards, which was really frustrating because my defense was really putting up good stands while the Falcons were stuck deep into their own territory. Then - bam! - my secondary would get absolutely burned for no reason. I was down by 14 at one point in the first half, and I went into halftime down by 11. But they forgot about one thing: they forgot about Tom Brady. I tied the game in the second half (including a 2-point conversion) to force overtime. Overtime is not my friend in Madden because I always lose the coin toss and the opposing team returns the opening kickoff to the 30, meaning they only have to drive 40 yards to kick the winning field goal. Well that happened in this game too, but the Falcons... missed the Super Bowl-winning field goal! I gained possession, handed the ball to Laurence Maroney on the first snap, and he immediately ran 60 yards down the sideline to win the championship game in overtime with a touchdown. Wheeee!
The offseason is actually my favorite part of Madden. I think it's because you can manipulate the makeup of your team by measuring player attributes like it's an RPG. Training camp actually allows you to increase those attribute points with fun drills. Pulling off a good trade is really satisfying too. I was able to re-sign all my key players from the previous season this time, so I had virtually no holes in my roster to fill, so I had the luxury of trying to go for that superstar player in the draft. I traded away Corey Dillon (who I was going to cut anyways because he was too expensive and worse than Laurence Maroney) and my 2nd round draft pick for a higher 2nd round draft pick. I then traded that high 2nd round pick and my 1st round pick for a higher 1st round pick. I then traded that higher 1st round pick and my 3rd round pick for the 4th overall pick in the draft! I used it to sign a superstar WR who is a perfect kick returner (99 points). The only downside is that now I don't have much use for Wes Welker, who I love in real life and traded for in the game. He was a very integral part of my Super Bowl run with his kick returns, but he's just not as good as this new hot-shot rookie I have. I think I'll keep him out of loyalty, but his morale points might drop from being usurped.
-Some dipshit entered the elevator on the 3rd floor and exited on the 4th while talking on his bluetooth headset. I gave the back of his head the stink-eye, and when he left, the maintenance worker who was in the elevator with me seemed to agree. "Guess he was in a hurry," he mused in a New England accent. Unless you are disabled or have a heavy load, you do not take the elevator up one floor, you hear? The only thing worse is taking the elevator down one floor. I've never witnessed it before, but it's so ridiculous in concept that you could make it the basis for a Candid Camera episode.
-The cat-who-must-not-be-named now also likes sleeping in my bed, but I think it's only because it likes sleeping next to Banjo. It's nice that the cat likes my bed, but it's also a nuisance since it sheds 10x more than Banjo and doesn't like being disturbed while sleeping. So if I'm sleeping in my own bed and I switch positions and jostle the cat, it will then wake up and run to my bedroom door which I then have to get up and open. With Banjo, I don't have this problem because he's like a rag doll when he's sleepy and unflappably inert. He's the ideal bedtime buddy.
This then got me thinking: what if an artist released an album that was not an album, i.e. an album's-worth collection of songs with no order to them. Each individual listener would then decide for themselves what they believed should be the running order and arrange the tracks accordingly. The 'album' would have to be released digitally, of course, preferably from a website where the tracks could be downloaded in a fashion that doesn't showcase them in some particular order (so the listener wouldn't be tempted to try to guess what the band's 'intended' tracklist was). Maybe the band could outline some rules, like if there were 14 tracks total, the listener could pick at least 10 to be in their running order and up to 4 B-sides. Is this whole scheme gimmicky or would it give artistic legitimacy to a past-time that music fans already experiment with? Until Brian Wilson's Smile was released, Beach Boys fans were practically forced to create their own individual Smile mix-tapes out of abandoned demos. I once made a playlist called "Kid Amnesiac" that culled the best of each of those albums into one monster collection. I guess if Radiohead really wanted to blow up the music industry a second time, this could be their next move.
-Yay, I won the Super Bowl in Madden in All-Pro difficulty. I went into an absolute zone during the playoffs (I think I only threw one interception total in those four games), and I even had to go through the Colts. I figured out how to get to Peyton Manning, and it might've been a little unfair, but it's really annoying to wait for him to audible 3-4 times on each snap. I just kept audibling my defense every time Manning audibled, so I was basically switching my coverage scheme every time he recognized it (which I think is cheating on his part!). Eventually, the play clock would run down and Manning would have to snap the ball with whatever coverage I had decided, and it ended up being less than ideal for him. We traded scores through three quarters, until I realized that he loved to throw to Reggie Wayne, so I started overloading coverage on him (usually with an OLB going into a drop-zone on his size of the field). It worked! I got a game-icing interception with my linebacker who was covering Wayne in a drop-zone, and I advanced to the Super Bowl against the Falcons.
The Falcons had Michael Vick (heheh) which Madden made into some six-million dollar man super-god. He threw 3 TD passes of 50 or more yards, which was really frustrating because my defense was really putting up good stands while the Falcons were stuck deep into their own territory. Then - bam! - my secondary would get absolutely burned for no reason. I was down by 14 at one point in the first half, and I went into halftime down by 11. But they forgot about one thing: they forgot about Tom Brady. I tied the game in the second half (including a 2-point conversion) to force overtime. Overtime is not my friend in Madden because I always lose the coin toss and the opposing team returns the opening kickoff to the 30, meaning they only have to drive 40 yards to kick the winning field goal. Well that happened in this game too, but the Falcons... missed the Super Bowl-winning field goal! I gained possession, handed the ball to Laurence Maroney on the first snap, and he immediately ran 60 yards down the sideline to win the championship game in overtime with a touchdown. Wheeee!
The offseason is actually my favorite part of Madden. I think it's because you can manipulate the makeup of your team by measuring player attributes like it's an RPG. Training camp actually allows you to increase those attribute points with fun drills. Pulling off a good trade is really satisfying too. I was able to re-sign all my key players from the previous season this time, so I had virtually no holes in my roster to fill, so I had the luxury of trying to go for that superstar player in the draft. I traded away Corey Dillon (who I was going to cut anyways because he was too expensive and worse than Laurence Maroney) and my 2nd round draft pick for a higher 2nd round draft pick. I then traded that high 2nd round pick and my 1st round pick for a higher 1st round pick. I then traded that higher 1st round pick and my 3rd round pick for the 4th overall pick in the draft! I used it to sign a superstar WR who is a perfect kick returner (99 points). The only downside is that now I don't have much use for Wes Welker, who I love in real life and traded for in the game. He was a very integral part of my Super Bowl run with his kick returns, but he's just not as good as this new hot-shot rookie I have. I think I'll keep him out of loyalty, but his morale points might drop from being usurped.
-Some dipshit entered the elevator on the 3rd floor and exited on the 4th while talking on his bluetooth headset. I gave the back of his head the stink-eye, and when he left, the maintenance worker who was in the elevator with me seemed to agree. "Guess he was in a hurry," he mused in a New England accent. Unless you are disabled or have a heavy load, you do not take the elevator up one floor, you hear? The only thing worse is taking the elevator down one floor. I've never witnessed it before, but it's so ridiculous in concept that you could make it the basis for a Candid Camera episode.
-The cat-who-must-not-be-named now also likes sleeping in my bed, but I think it's only because it likes sleeping next to Banjo. It's nice that the cat likes my bed, but it's also a nuisance since it sheds 10x more than Banjo and doesn't like being disturbed while sleeping. So if I'm sleeping in my own bed and I switch positions and jostle the cat, it will then wake up and run to my bedroom door which I then have to get up and open. With Banjo, I don't have this problem because he's like a rag doll when he's sleepy and unflappably inert. He's the ideal bedtime buddy.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Article in the Tech
From the December 11, 2007 issue of the Tech (original article here):
Radiohead Brings the Chanukah Cheer
Second ‘In Rainbows’ Disc Is Truly a Bonus
By Andrew Lee
December 11, 2007
Radiohead - In Rainbows (Bonus Disc)
Produced by Nigel Godrich (Self Released)
If our own Arts Editor Sarah Dupuis hadn’t claimed reviewing rights to Radiohead’s In Rainbows before I could, an entirely different story would’ve been told. In short, I would’ve torn Radiohead a new basement door for not living up to its own standards, or what I’d perceived them to be. I owe Dupuis a debt of gratitude for preventing me from making such a mistake. In Rainbows is, I’ll admit now, quite satisfying, and it was my selfish here-I-am-now-entertain-me attitude that kept me from understanding that. The album has an oceanic serenity that could be confused for dullness until you let the majesty of “House of Cards” or “Nude” permeate you. So much of it cannot be scrutinized and enjoyed at the same time before you’ve initially taken a more relaxed perspective.
Radiohead brought as much finality as one could possibly bring to an album-closer with the funeral march of “Videotape,” so what does the new bonus disc to In Rainbows bring to the equation, if anything? Bands have released extra tracks before (B-sides, demos, live versions) to pad up deluxe editions of their albums, but Radiohead’s gone to some length to make this disc more of a “disc two” than a “bonus disc.” For one thing, it begins with an instrumental segue from “Videotape,” as if the listener is about to enter a realm after death through a curtain of liquid piano echo. That track, “Mk 1,” is one of two brief instrumental pieces included, but neither has an under-produced, throwaway quality to them.
The interludes ably complement the six remaining songs, but they’re ultimately disposable. This makes the In Rainbows bonus disc into the album that everyone accused “Amnesiac” of being: a cobbling-together of leftover material from a previous recording session as opposed to a separate entity. The quality of these leftovers, however, just serves to show how fantastic the main meal was.
I was sold after hearing “Down Is the New Up.” It has enough studio effects and overdubs to perk up the ears of studious, detail-oriented fans and it still delivers a truly gripping Radiohead moment when the violas make their crushing entrance while the drums thunder back in reply. Thom Yorke sounds like he’s on an ego trip, taunting some poor soul whose life has taken a wrong turn: “You’re future’s bleak / You’re so last week.” Either Thom’s gone evil on us or it’s a successful bit of character acting.
Or maybe he’s just airing out one of the darker facets of his personality, because later on in “Last Flowers” he turns right back around and inhabits the broken man he was jawing at in “Down Is the New Up.” “Last Flowers” has the most raw arrangement out of any song in either disc of In Rainbows, and it features one of the most pained melodies of Radiohead’s entire catalog. Thom sounds wounded by life and the unthinkable prospect of it going on when he says, “I can’t face the evening straight / and you can’t offer me escape.” The chord progression nearly offers resolution in the song’s chorus, only to snatch it away. “Last Flowers” lingers in your mind well after the final piano notes fade out.
“Go Slowly” further alludes to suicide but to a much weaker effect. Its plodding 4/4 tempo and general predictability make it a surprisingly generic song by Radiohead’s standards, and it even bears a passing resemblance to the Oasis song “Talk Tonight.” (Sacrilege!) It’s still quite listenable, but it’s easily the weakest song here. The remaining songs are still good enough to make this the most consistent set of non-LP material Radiohead’s ever made. It more than makes up for the dreadful experimentations in B-sides for their previous album Hail to the Thief.
With a bruising lead guitar riff, “Bangers and Mash” is a jagged guitar rocker in the same vein as “Bodysnatchers” but with even more menace (“Bit me, bit me, bit me / I’ve got the poison!”). Radiohead’s rhythm section showcases its diversity on “Up on the Ladder” whose percussion is the throb of a drum machine with the faint rattling of both wood and metal deep in the mix. Thom pulls off a Doctor Who reference (“I’m stuck in the Tardis”) surprisingly well with help from a world-weary bass line from Colin Greenwood which helps paint a gloomy scene of a universe whose infinity is not awe-inspiring but eternally repetitive.
Nothing, however, surprises more than the finale, “4-Minute Warning.” Its mood and restraint are perfectly surreal and like nothing else the band has done since “The Bends.” The title refers to the amount of time citizens could expect between the launch of a nuclear missile and its arrival on British soil during the Cold War. The jarring and simultaneously upbeat calmness of the song feels more like a last goodbye before oblivion than any maudlin gloominess could portray. In that respect, “4-Minute Warning” would’ve been a superior closing song to In Rainbows than “Videotape,” and Radiohead could hypothetically end their career with this understated masterpiece. If this disc is any indication, though, they may have just entered their prime.
Radiohead Brings the Chanukah Cheer
Second ‘In Rainbows’ Disc Is Truly a Bonus
By Andrew Lee
December 11, 2007
Radiohead - In Rainbows (Bonus Disc)
Produced by Nigel Godrich (Self Released)
If our own Arts Editor Sarah Dupuis hadn’t claimed reviewing rights to Radiohead’s In Rainbows before I could, an entirely different story would’ve been told. In short, I would’ve torn Radiohead a new basement door for not living up to its own standards, or what I’d perceived them to be. I owe Dupuis a debt of gratitude for preventing me from making such a mistake. In Rainbows is, I’ll admit now, quite satisfying, and it was my selfish here-I-am-now-entertain-me attitude that kept me from understanding that. The album has an oceanic serenity that could be confused for dullness until you let the majesty of “House of Cards” or “Nude” permeate you. So much of it cannot be scrutinized and enjoyed at the same time before you’ve initially taken a more relaxed perspective.
Radiohead brought as much finality as one could possibly bring to an album-closer with the funeral march of “Videotape,” so what does the new bonus disc to In Rainbows bring to the equation, if anything? Bands have released extra tracks before (B-sides, demos, live versions) to pad up deluxe editions of their albums, but Radiohead’s gone to some length to make this disc more of a “disc two” than a “bonus disc.” For one thing, it begins with an instrumental segue from “Videotape,” as if the listener is about to enter a realm after death through a curtain of liquid piano echo. That track, “Mk 1,” is one of two brief instrumental pieces included, but neither has an under-produced, throwaway quality to them.
The interludes ably complement the six remaining songs, but they’re ultimately disposable. This makes the In Rainbows bonus disc into the album that everyone accused “Amnesiac” of being: a cobbling-together of leftover material from a previous recording session as opposed to a separate entity. The quality of these leftovers, however, just serves to show how fantastic the main meal was.
I was sold after hearing “Down Is the New Up.” It has enough studio effects and overdubs to perk up the ears of studious, detail-oriented fans and it still delivers a truly gripping Radiohead moment when the violas make their crushing entrance while the drums thunder back in reply. Thom Yorke sounds like he’s on an ego trip, taunting some poor soul whose life has taken a wrong turn: “You’re future’s bleak / You’re so last week.” Either Thom’s gone evil on us or it’s a successful bit of character acting.
Or maybe he’s just airing out one of the darker facets of his personality, because later on in “Last Flowers” he turns right back around and inhabits the broken man he was jawing at in “Down Is the New Up.” “Last Flowers” has the most raw arrangement out of any song in either disc of In Rainbows, and it features one of the most pained melodies of Radiohead’s entire catalog. Thom sounds wounded by life and the unthinkable prospect of it going on when he says, “I can’t face the evening straight / and you can’t offer me escape.” The chord progression nearly offers resolution in the song’s chorus, only to snatch it away. “Last Flowers” lingers in your mind well after the final piano notes fade out.
“Go Slowly” further alludes to suicide but to a much weaker effect. Its plodding 4/4 tempo and general predictability make it a surprisingly generic song by Radiohead’s standards, and it even bears a passing resemblance to the Oasis song “Talk Tonight.” (Sacrilege!) It’s still quite listenable, but it’s easily the weakest song here. The remaining songs are still good enough to make this the most consistent set of non-LP material Radiohead’s ever made. It more than makes up for the dreadful experimentations in B-sides for their previous album Hail to the Thief.
With a bruising lead guitar riff, “Bangers and Mash” is a jagged guitar rocker in the same vein as “Bodysnatchers” but with even more menace (“Bit me, bit me, bit me / I’ve got the poison!”). Radiohead’s rhythm section showcases its diversity on “Up on the Ladder” whose percussion is the throb of a drum machine with the faint rattling of both wood and metal deep in the mix. Thom pulls off a Doctor Who reference (“I’m stuck in the Tardis”) surprisingly well with help from a world-weary bass line from Colin Greenwood which helps paint a gloomy scene of a universe whose infinity is not awe-inspiring but eternally repetitive.
Nothing, however, surprises more than the finale, “4-Minute Warning.” Its mood and restraint are perfectly surreal and like nothing else the band has done since “The Bends.” The title refers to the amount of time citizens could expect between the launch of a nuclear missile and its arrival on British soil during the Cold War. The jarring and simultaneously upbeat calmness of the song feels more like a last goodbye before oblivion than any maudlin gloominess could portray. In that respect, “4-Minute Warning” would’ve been a superior closing song to In Rainbows than “Videotape,” and Radiohead could hypothetically end their career with this understated masterpiece. If this disc is any indication, though, they may have just entered their prime.
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