Death Magnetic

Poor Metallica. All they’ve ever wanted to do is rock; all the vacuous wasteland that is the internet wants to talk about is Napster this and sell-out that. Even when the conversation does steer towards the music, the comment seems to be predicated on something the band did outside the musical realm: “Well, that was pretty cool, but since the Napster thing they’re dead to me…” Somehow - and I would be remiss if I didn’t say that boatloads of cash didn’t help - Metallica soldiered on and released their tenth studio album, Death Magnetic. The spirit is willing, the flesh is willing, but the big question here is “Does anybody actually buy it?”

It’s no secret that the members of Metallica are firmly entrenched in middle age. No longer are they drunk, high, and full of rage. This is important because that rambunctious and angst-ridden youth is what gave their early music its soul. If there’s anything important to metal fans, it’s authenticity. And Metallica had that in droves.

But they’ve gone from “No Life ‘til Leather” to buying Armani. They went from songs about war and destruction and the endtimes to personal therapy session. They have wives and kids now. What in the world could they possibly be angry about now?

***

The record begins with a rather ominous heartbeat and a gloomy guitar line. After that the riff-fest is on. It seems to these ears that Metallica has used …And Justice for All as a jumping off point for this album – a theme repeated throughout the disc – though I don’t exactly have golden ears (or even copper, for that matter) so I may be wrong. “That Was Just Your Life” features vocals that aren’t really sung, but spit out by Hetfield. The guitar play between lead and rhythm works fine, but the chorus is weak. That is an aberration as Death Magnetic features some of the best choruses Metallica has ever written. This may be a death knell for metal purists, but this album has hooks out the wazoo.

“Broken, Beaten, and Scarred,” with its shout-along chorus, and “The Judas Kiss” are probably the best examples of the pop (I know, I know) sensibilities that Metallica developed with the Black Album. This is not to say that they don’t rock out – they definitely do – it’s just that these songs aren’t just mindless riffing over and over again. Metal fans may scoff, but I don’t really want to listen to a musical version of the Whargarbl dog.

A lot of ink (or type, I guess) has been spilled over lead single “The Day that Never Comes,” and most of it is negative. I can’t say I disagree here. It would have been fine had it stuck with just the beginning, as the ending just seems tacked on. Not to mention Hetfield’s vocals, which sound weak. I’m not so sure growling/barking the lyrics would have been very effective, but singing is not the answer.

The middle of the album features what could be considered oddities, at least as far as Metallica is concerned. The beginning of “All Nightmare Long” features a neat little guitar opening, but as with other sounds on this album that could be considered different, the moment is short-lived. It took until the sixth track, “Cyanide,” to finally hear some bass. And then we come to “The Unforgiven III,” sure to be divisive as any song in the Metallica catalog.

The song comes on, and my first thought is “Piano? In my Metallica?” It then goes on to have an orchestral sound complete with strings and horns. If you judge the song strictly on its own merits, it’s not bad at all. Song sequels are indeed lame – and I think the trilogy would’ve worked well if it were contained on one album, or perhaps its own EP – but this one just works. Unfortunately, though, it sticks out like a sore thumb on the album. I’m a fan of quiet/loud, hard/soft dynamics, but one and a half songs on an album don’t count as dynamics, sorry.

The album ends strongly with two of its best tracks: “The Judas Kiss” and “My Apocolypse.” The former features probably the best chorus and the best vocal performance (along with “All Nightmare Long”) and the latter reminds me of “Dyers’ Eve,” and ends the album in a blaze of riffy glory. Squeezed in between those two is the instrumental “Suicide and Redemption,” it’s not bad but not exceptional, and ultimately could’ve been cut but about three minutes or so.

***

I wrote about St. Anger back in 2003: “They took their raw energy of old, their new experiences (and newfound perspectives) and put it all together to make one monster of a record.” I think this description is more apt of Death Magnetic than of St. Anger. The songs here actually feel like they’re going somewhere, whereas Anger just pummeled you with riff after riff and then that was it. St. Anger was cathartic and vulnerable; Death Magnetic has, despite its ruminations on mortality, swagger and confidence.

Death Magnetic is certainly a marathon and not a sprint. As usual, Metallica could use some sort of editor on some of their songs, specifically “The End of the Line” and “Sucidide and Redemption.” Part of the reason Master of Puppets and Ride the Lightning are considered a classic (besides the brilliant music, of course) is the fact that they leave you wanting more with their 48-54-minute run times. Once you get past that point, just about any album seems to be running more than a little long.

Despite all the hatred of Metallica, no one can seem to stop talking about them. Even indie tastemakers Pitchfork Media got into the act with their review of the new album. Not surprisingly, it was simply a more eloquent, sneering way of the old “WAAAAHHH!!! Metallica doesn’t want me to steal their music! WAAAAHHH!!! It’s not 1986 anymore!” And therein lies the best part of Metallica: It isn’t1986 anymore, but the band is still here. They’ve grown and evolved – much to the chagrin of “fans” – yet still seem to make good music. Call them old. Call them past their prime. But don’t you dare call them irrelevant, lest you’re willing to shut up about them once and for all.

So, what do they have to be angry about? The answer here, I think, is irrelevant. If the lyrics have any say, it seems like it’s their own mortality, which is a scary prospect indeed. Perhaps Metallica has grown past that anger they had back in their youth. Have you? And if you haven’t, Metallica may not have anything to offer you anymore. That’s your problem, not theirs.

Death Magnetic is a mostly great album. The riffs are solid; the choruses are catchy. I’m not sure what this means for the band: Is this merely and aberration of late-period Metallica? Could this be a swan song for the metal giants? Or is this – gasp! – a career resurgence? I don’t know. But Metallica has confirmed one thing for certain on this album: if they’re going to be taken into middle age, they’re not going to be taken softly. They will be dragged into it, kicking and screaming.

Amazon.com Blogger Hits Pitchfork Right on the Head

I don't know if anyone actually follows the things posted on the Amazon Daily blog, but this post referencing a Pitchfork review of the Black Kids' new album made me chuckle because it was entirely true.

The money quote:

"...I'd rather see a quick visual gag than invest the time to read a thousand condescending words by a dude who's looking at his subject down his nose and through his ironic mustache."

The "visual gags" aside -- I'm neither here nor there on them -- I tend to read Pitchfork a fair amount, despite the fact that their writers can indeed be a bit condescending. It's refreshing to see someone else (presumably someone who's also an indie rock fan) call them out on their bullshit even if that bullshit is funny sometimes.

Weezer's "Red Album"

I really tried to like Weezer's sixth studio album. I really did. In fact, when The Onion's AV Club declared it "breathtakingly stupid," I wanted to enjoy the album out of spite. Unfortunately, that that just didn't happen.

It's been said -- by someone much more clever than me -- that Weezer is the gateway drug of bands, in that listening to Weezer might lead the listener to more indie type bands. I find this to be true, as the first time I paid any attention to Weezer was my freshman year of college. Though that was 6 years after the release of the untouchable "Blue" album, it had me hooked and soon after (aided by a job DJ'ing at the campus radio station) I was listening to a lot more non-commercial bands. So if you think I'm a music snob now, you have Rivers Cuomo to thank.

That said, I've always found the argument of Weezer-as-indie-ish-band sort of peculiar. Weezer has always been, until now, strictly a power-pop band. They don't make 3 a.m. headphone albums, they make music meant to be blasted out of car windows and at barbecues. Any gerneral fan of rock music can find something redeeming in Weezer. There is nothing wrong with this. There is also nothing wrong experimenting with your sound. Any self-respecting artist should be able to go out of his or her "comfort zone" at least once in a while.

However, Rivers Cuomo and Weezer take this experimenting -- if you can call it that -- to a level so ludicrous I can't even find a better word for it than "ludicrous."

"Red" (that's what I'm calling it from now on) starts off rather well with a spunky, peppy little rocker named "Troublemaker." Never mind the fact that Rivers rhymes "ki-ahds" (kids) with "Biotch." Thats fine; I've come to expect that sort of thing from Weezer. Unfortunately, it's foreshadowing of the kinds of missteps that are abound on the album.

What's wrong with the album as a whole can be found in microcosm on the second track, 'The Greatest Man That Ever Lived (Variations on a Shaker Hymn)." The song goes in four different directions in the span of 5 minutes and 52 seconds. There's the Weezer rock song part, the "traditional" part (that's the "Shaker Hymn" thing; I'm no music scholar, so I have no idea what the hell that is), the spoken word part, and Queen-style hysterics throughout. I read over at Rolling Stone that the song is a "satirical mini-epic." Perhaps that satire was lost on me; I just think the song is terrible.

From those two songs we find why the album is problematic: there is no consistency. After 'Greatest Man' is a classic Weezer song, "Pork & Beans," complete with references to Rogaine and Timbaland...but it's followed up by the schlocky sentimentality of "Heart Songs," an ode to all the bands that Rivers loves. Being from Wisconsin, I love cheese, but not that much of it in one dose.

I hate to compare and album to a band's past accomplishments -- I realize it's natural -- because I think an album, to some extent, should be able to stand on its own. But fifth track "Everybody Get Dangerous" makes that hard to do with its sing-speak (or whatever, again, I know dick about the technicalities of music) and "everybody get dangerous...BOOYAH!" chorus.

It seems as if before, the irony and geekiness came rather naturally on their previous albums; here it seems like they're trying way too hard to be cool. I suppose if they're trying to sell CD's to 16-year-old girls that are into theater, they've hit the jackpot with "Red." With me, not so much.

Lastly, "Red" could've used some major editing. That's funny considering it's only 41 minutes long and Weezer has never released a disc over 45... but there are 3 songs over 5 minutes long. When the ideas for those songs aren't good to begin with, a little self-editing can go a long way. Case in point, "Dreamin'" would've been a great song had it been cut off at about 2:24 instead of its full 5:11 running time.

I don't want to end on a harsh note, so I will commend them for the last song on the CD, "Angel and the One." It's a beautiful song. It's no "Only in Dreams," sure, but at least they ended it on a good note.

CONCLUSION: "Red" is a mess. It doesn't feel like a cohesive album to me, but rather a collection of 10 songs that don't belong together. Not only that, but most of them are mediocre to boot. "Troublemaker" and "Pork & Beans" are pretty damn good songs, but after that, I say listener beware.

Rating: 1.5 stars out of 5

Ch-ch-ch-changes!

(turn the beat around)

Okay, now that you've got that out of your system here's the deal: I've had nothing to say in the past month. It happens. I may still have nothing to say -- time will tell -- but I'm going to try to shake things up.

Napolean in Rags will no longer be a general purpose blog. It will focus on music and music only. Record reviews, concert reviews, stupid (and completely incredible) opinions, and everybody's favorite feature - "Annoying Songs to Play in Bars" - will comprise the content of the blog.

(Yeah I know that's what I mostly wrote about anyway, I just want to make it "official.")

I will shift my "regular" writing to a web site of my own creation. Haven't got a name for that one quite yet, but I'm working on it. I plan on writing things more along the lines of the stuff I wrote in college. It'll be tough, and maybe I'll give up after a few weeks (I always have, it's the one thing I'm good at) but it doesn't hurt to try.

Lastly, I'm thinking of starting a Brewers blog. I know next to nothing about baseball, which I think makes me a prime candidate to be a blogger anyway. Well, I know some things, but I'm no expert. I just want to offer a different perspective from what you find everywhere else on the internet.

More to come later.

Traveling With A Purpose

My co-worker returned on Friday from a week-long jaunt in Mexico. It was good timing, too, because I was getting tired out from working in the mail room all by my lonesome. This is not to say my job involves a lot of heavy labor -- it doesn't -- but the double duty of doing both mail runs and deliveries to all floors AND covering the security desk had worn out its welcome by weeks' end.

Most people would have asked him how it went (I did, he said it was "great" or "awesome" or something) and what he did, asked to see photos, etc, etc. I did not go any further than my initial question, mostly because I am an introverted jerk.

Now, don't get me wrong, if he would have insisted on telling me everything about the trip I would've listened. The "fuck off, I don't care" mentality is reserved only for the most special people in my life. But, yeah, I really didn't care, therefore the conversation went no further.

I have no idea why he went there, but something tells me after working with him for a year and a half that he didn't have a rigid itinerary. He doesn't drink, so I know he didn't go there to party...which is why most people my age go to Mexico to begin with. I figure him to be the type of person to go down there and just soak in the culture. There is nothing wrong with this. But I got to thinking about what I would do if I traveled, and though I wouldn't have an itemized itinerary, I would certainly have a purpose. I don't just go somewhere to see shit.

Case in point: a few months ago I was trying to decide how to use some discount vouchers I had from Midwest Airlines. I suggested to my girlfriend that maybe we should just go somewhere that we'd never been before as she was resisting going to Vegas.

After looking through the cities, I found that there were specific things that I wanted to see there and nothing more. I wanted to see the Country Music Hall of Fame in Nashville and Sun Studios in Memphis. If I went to New Yotk City, besides seeing obvious landmarks like the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty, I would be disappointed if I didn't get to take in a taping of Late Show with David Letterman or Late Night with Conan O'Brien.

I can't just go somewhere and hang out. Even somewhere as laid back as Mexico, I'm pretty sure I'd just go there to buy cheap booze and cigarettes.

Mock, mock, mock

I don't watch a whole lot of television, but there never seems to be a shortage of shows that I hate.

Why is this? Because my girlfriend has a nasty habit of gravitating towards shows worthy of my scorn. Now, to be fair, she's not the type that insists on watching the bevy of reality shows that permeate our airwaves. She doesn't sit around waiting for the next schlock-filled episode of Rock of Love, Flava of Love, I Love New York, Fucking (Disguised as Loving New York), etc, etc. Actually, two of her favorite channels are more "reality" based than your average broadcast network or vh1: TLC and Discovery Health.

I'll leave Discovery Health alone not because I like it, but because I'm uninterested and generally freaked out by all things medical. This is, of course, despite the fact that I work at a BLOOD center. TLC, however, is a different beast.

I don't think I can stand a single show on that network. I don't watch anything closely on the channel while my girlfriend is watching What Not to Wear or Jon & Kate Plus 8 but time and again I find myself turning away from my computer screen to curse the TV or mock one or more of the people.

I'm finding the only way I can stomach any of this reality television is to mock it incessantly. (And hopefully to the point where she turns it off)

I've written about this before -- about Bridezillas in particular -- that I think the only reason most reality television exists in the first place is because it makes the average American feel better about themselves.

I'm not trying to take any sort of high road here. I openly mock people on a regular basis; it's entertainment to me. But that's the thing - I mock real people. I don't want that to be the selling point for a decidedly escapist form of entertainment. When I'm entertained it's because of a good plot or (more likely because I'm not a fan of dramas) brilliant dialogue. Reality TV doesn't deliver when it comes to those points.

So why the screencap from the final episode of Seinfeld? Because Babu tells the jury how the foursome just mocked and mocked and mocked and never thought about any of the people they were mocking... and I think that illustrates rather poignantly the attitude of the average reality show viewer, even me.

Am I right? Am I wrong? Am I just a hateful, bitter asshole incapable of having a little fun? On that last question, I'm (barely) secure enough in my own skin to admit that I am, in fact, a hateful, bitter asshole. Regardless, reality TV still bugs the living shit out of me and if that's wrong, I don't want to be right.

Annoying Songs to Play at Bars: Vol 6

Artist: The Rolling Stones
Song: “Midnight Rambler" (live)
Album: Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out
Length: 9:04

For the first time in a while, I'm picking a song that I've never played in a bar. In fact, I was just listening to the album today -- which is fucking great as far as live albums go -- and decided that "Midnight Rambler" would be a great cut to play in your local dive.

First things first: Yeah, I know everybody and their mom loves (or at least knows) The Rolling Stones. That's the pure genius behind picking this song: unless you're a hip-hop head that hates anything with actual guitars, you can get into this balls-out live rocker from Mick and the boys.

Now, I just described "Midnight Rambler" as balls-out, but it's not quite as menacing as other heavy rockers from the same era...say Black Sabbath's "War Pigs." That's another thing about this song that makes it such a good choice: any schmuck with a dollar bill can pick an all-out assault on the ears like early Metallica or Megadeth. It takes a more discerning listener to choose a slow burner like "Midnight Rambler."

I suppose it sounds like everyone should appreciate this song then...and they should for the first four-and-a-half minutes or so when the song seems ready to fade into oblivion...

...at which point, after slowing down to a crawl, the song picks back up again. Mick Jagger goes on talking about "the midnight rambler" and continues on for another good four minutes.

I know I'm just a dork, but just thinking about that point in the song playing in a bar makes me cackle to myself.

I have devised a ratings system just for fun, and mostly because I thought it incredibly funny to use "Lars Ulrichs" as my rating instead of stars or numbers.

Ratings go from 1-5, least to most.

Obscurity: 3.5

I'm sure any hardcore fans of the Stones will know this song, considering it's not only on the live album, but on Let it Bleed as well. But if most patrons are like me, and only know mostly singles, this song might catch people a little off guard.

Length: 4.5

The Rolling Stones have a few longer songs like "Sympathy for the Devil" (6:17) and "You Can't Always Get What You Want" (7:29) but the live version from "Midnight Rambler" tops them all.

Tuneoutability: 2

It's not super-loud. Its lyrics are intelligible and sung, not screamed. The riff is quite catchy. People will listen to this and maybe even like it, but what will get you your money's worth is the 9-minute running time.

Overall: 4

If I were a girl, this post would be full of pictures.

Opening Day 2008

I wouldn't say that I'm a hardcore Brewers fan -- at least, not to most people -- but I've always wanted to go to an Opening Day at Miller Park/County Stadium. Finally, armed with enough money to buy a season ticket package and thus tickets to the home opener, I got my opportunity to go this year.

First things first - I committed a cardinal sin by not tailgating. There were many reasons for this, but the most important reason was that somebody stole my grill! I know, it's my fault for leaving it outside but it still sucks.

So we walked the two miles to the park instead.

Perhaps the Brewers and the local media have done way too good of a job hyping Opening Day because it wasn't nearly as chaotic as I expected. For some reason, I thought it would be our own little Woodstock in Miller Park's parking lot. I thought there would be huge tents with loud music and a plume of smoke from the myriad barbeques going that could be seen from half a mile away.

None of those things were true. In fact, walking through the lot behind home plate looked like it did on any other game. There were lots of people cooking out, people playing "cornhole" (or beanbags, or whatever), and beer, beer, and more beer. It is still a sight to behold, even if it's not as ridiculous as I saw it in my mind.

Nothing really changed at the stadium itself except for the new team store with its overpriced wares. ($140 for a replica Corey Hart jersey? No thank you.) The large 20 oz beers were still $7.50. They continue to serve the awesomest cheese waffle fries in a mini Brewers helmet. And the hot dogs are still the best I've ever tasted.

As for the game itself, it was great. The Brewers completely throttled the Giants 13-4. Bill Hall silenced his critics -- and Ned Yost's -- at least for a day by hitting 2 HR's. The pitching was solid. Everything was flowing for the Crew and it looks so far that, if they continue at the level they're at, the Brewers should go to their first playoffs since 1982.

Top 10 April Fools' work pranks

Just read this today. Mostly lame except for #5: Filled the soda vending machine with cans of beer.

My friends, that is not a prank. That is one of the best ideas of all time!

Why Do Wisconsin Sports Teams Always Choke In Big Games?

In light of the Wisconsin Badgers' 73-56 loss to Davidson in the NCAA Basketball tournament last night, it occurred to me that teams from Wisconsin -- whether they be college or professional -- seem to shit the bed in the big games. Now I realize that Davidson -- and Stephen Curry in particular -- shot lights out and sometimes there's not much you can do about that. (Except for, you know, play better D.) But the Badgers were supposed to be the better team. Stifling defense, doing all the little things, a balanced offense.

And therein lies the problem. Wisconsin sports are rife with good teams, but mostly lack the flashy type of superstar that can take a team on his back and win when nothing else is going right.

Now before you jump all over me, I'm not trying to say we have no superstars here in Cheesehead Nation. We do: the Packers had only one of the most respected and well-known quarterbacks of all time in Brett Favre. The Brewers are blessed with homegrown talent like Prince Fielder and Ryan Braun. The Bucks... okay, the Bucks suck right now and they need a coach that can get through to them to play defense. In the college world, the Badgers basketball team lacked that sort of player, while Marquette has some pretty good guards who, while solid, have nowhere near the cache of former player -- and bona fide stud -- Dwyane Wade.

So there are plenty of stars, it's just that I think the team is valued more overall here than the individual. That's really not surprising considering the blue-collar nature of my state. I don't think we'd have it any other way, honestly, but that sort of team breeds good regular seasons and mostly nothing beyond that.

Hell, even the individuals reflect our culture here.

Yes, Brett Favre has taken the Packers on his back and won some games, but he has also lost many games by doing that. More importantly, Favre has always seemed like "just one of the guys." He may very well be like a good ol' boy from the south, but at the same time he's like one of our own. As the face of the franchise, he reflects the culture of the team, which leads me to believe that Green Bay would never sign a head case like Terrell Owens or Randy Moss... two players that could have very well led us to a Super Bowl victory.

The Brewers young stars are just that: young. They lack the experience to carry a team. (Prince is close though. Very, very close.) I also think, at least last season, that the Crew lacked a killer instinct to take over a game and put it away. Perhaps this season will be different, I don't know.

Last, but not least, the Badgers b-ball team's best player last year was Alando Tucker. He was voted first-team All-American and almost won player of the year. He personified Wisconsin basketball (and Wisconsinites at large) thusly: He didn't have the prettiest shot or the flashiest moves; he just got shit done. Which is great until your team is down by 20 with 10 minutes to play...

I'm not trying to say the Packers should try and sign TO or that the Badgers would be better served with Stephen Curry on their team, (though with that kind of stroke from 3-point range, any team would love to have him) but rather that our culture here, whether in sports or in life, kind of forbids it in some sort of way. I mean, our teams just play solid, fundamental games and that's it... if certain players aren't into that, then they aren't welcome here.

Annoying Songs to Play In Bars: Vol. 5 - Twin Spin!

Selecting a country song on your average jukebox is a prickly proposition. Unless you’re in a honky-tonk joint, the patrons will most likely be in their twenties and thirties and they hate – with a capital H! – country music as far as I can tell. This may make it seem like the perfect choice for an annoying song – and it is, mostly – but be careful, because there could be old people lurking around who like country. And there’s nothing lamer than having an old person jammin’ to your song.

It’s true that even people who aren’t hipsters might like a Johnny Cash tune or two. But what about Willie Nelson? Merle Haggard? Hank Williams Sr.? It just so happens that I – and I’m the only one of my friends, I believe – like all of these classic country artists and more. Hell, I even like Kenny Rogers. I’m not going to say that I’m a diehard fan; I’ve never gotten too deep into the catalogues of any of the aforementioned artists except for maybe Cash. But I do have my favorite singles, and some of them had stricken negative chord with the people in the tavern. Here are two of them.

Artist: Johnny Cash

Song: “The Legend of John Henry’s Hammer”

Album: At Folsom Prison

Length: 7:02

Let me start out by saying that I really don’t like this song that much. It’s not as bad as “The Ballad of Ira Hayes,” but still. It’s way too long for a Cash song, and besides that it’s mostly spoken word. This is not a good formula to follow. Inexplicably, the studio version of the track is on his 16 Biggest Hits album.

Of course, we’re not talking about the studio version, we’re talking about the version he performed at Folsom Prison. That version has some redeeming qualities: 1) It’s a minute and a half shorter – this keeps me from wanting to puncture my eardrums. 2) The live version is far more energetic, making the story somehow more compelling. This is important when you’re listening to an epic country song.

I’ve had a couple of jukebox experiences with this song:

At one place, it got skipped a couple of minutes into it. That wasn’t too big of a deal considering it was just one in a long line of many long songs.

The second place was a little more interesting. There was a group of girls there that apparently thought the place was a club, because they were interested in dancing. (Not with me, of course.) Naturally, I walked up to the jukebox to fix this nonsense and played ‘John Henry’ somewhere in my set. An Asian girl walked up to me.

Her: Did you play this?

Me: (big smile) Yeah.

Her: Can you play something else please?

Me: What, you don’t like Johnny Cash?

Her: No, I can’t dance to it!

Now if this was college and I thought I had a shot with her I might have tried to accommodate her request. But it wasn’t, so I didn’t. Why she and her friends were in a dump in the suburbs looking to dance was beyond me. At least the Man in Black didn’t disappoint.

I have devised a ratings system just for fun, and mostly because I thought it incredibly funny to use "Lars Ulrichs" as my rating instead of stars or numbers.

Ratings go from 1-5, least to most.

Obscurity: 4

A lot of people have at least heard of “Ring of Fire,” I Walk the Line,” or “Folsom Prison Blues.” Though this song is on 16 Biggest Hits, I doubt most younger fans know “The Legend of John Henry’s Hammer.”

Length: 4

Three minutes of an old country song is enough for a lot of people. But seven? You’re asking for trouble there.

Tuneoutability: 3

It’s not particularly loud, but the Cash-supplied train sounds and constant “hammering” make it difficult to ignore.

Overall: 3.5

Artist: Merle Haggard

Song: “Okie from Muskogee”

Album: Probably any greatest hits compilation

Length: 2:42

The reason I like this song is plain and simple: it’s anti-hippie. Granted, I’m not exactly in Haggard’s target audience. I’m not a hayseed or a hillbilly, nor am I a part of the urban sophistication he seems to be railing against in the song. I fall somewhere in between, which I guess is why I find “Okie from Muskogee” so amusing.

I was at the same suburban dump from the last song when I decided to go with some Merle. There were these black dudes there with their lady friends having a good time – which is cool, except that I fucking hate rap music for the most part. Instead of going in the direction my musical arch-nemesis would have taken – heavy guitars – I decided to go in a completely different one. I decided to play the whitest song I could think of. I decided “Okie from Muskogee” would be next.

It was beautiful. No one really knew what was going on, going from a gangsta rap track to an acoustic country tune. I silently and slowly bobbed my head, satisfied that I had conquered the jukebox once again.

Obscurity: 2.5

It depends. Are you an old-school country fan? If so, you’ve heard “Okie from Muskogee” before. If not, and your idea of country is Toby Keith or the Dixie Chicks, then this song might sound completely alien to you.

Length: 2.5

I think nearly three minutes of country – quiet as it may be – goes a lot further than a three minute pop song.

Tuneoutability: 2

It’s pretty quiet and not overly twangy, so it’s not too hard to tune out. But an abrupt shift from listening to a bunch of rap or metal songs to this should turn some heads.

Overall: 2.5

Not-so-breaking News

It only took me a year and a half, but I finally got a perfect game on Wii Sports Bowling. Considering I don't play the game every day and I only roll a few games when I do play it, I think that's pretty good.

Starting around frame 8, I noticed my shot had a little hook on it, which was worrying because I bowl straightaway in both real life and on the Wii. As with any perfect game, you gotta have luck - and I did. It looked as if I wasn't going to get the strike on the 12th and final roll, but the seven pin came crashing down after a heartstopping second. I wish I had the wherewithal to have video of that. Oh well.

My faith in music fans is renewed, if only for a minute

I know it's only Amazon (it didn't crack the ITunes top 10) so it's not that big of a deal, but still, a Death Cab for Cutie single beating out Flo Rida? Really? Say what you want about DCfC -- and I'm sure you will -- but an indie rock single at #1 for daily downloads, even if it is just Amazon, is pretty awesome.

Click here to listen to it for free.

Stories That Need to Be Told and the Ethics of My Storytelling

Woooo two posts in one day! Be sure to check the post below for double the fun.

I was daydreaming again about being a famous author when something a professor once said to a writing class I was taking popped into my head: “All of you are here because you have stories that need to be told.” Those may or may not have been her exact words, but those words rang true. I wrote – and chose English-Writing as a major – because I felt I had something important to say and that other people would want to read those things. I would imagine others in the class felt the same way.

It’s no secret that I haven’t written much in the way of short stories like I did in college; everyone, naturally, asks “why?” My standard answer as of late has been that I simply have nothing more to say, that college seemed like the right place and time to write about what was bugging me. This still holds true; as you can see by reading the stories on the right, almost every one of them has to do with girls. I was the emo kid of short story writers, forever bitter and whiny towards any human being with a vagina.

Now, of course, I am in a long-term relationship and that bitterness, for the most part, has receded. What the hell do I write about now?

I tried my hand at writing about music, sports, politics, and anything else under the sun that I could think of. Though I wouldn’t say any of the stuff on this blog or any other one was horrible, I don’t think I’ve written anything that was particularly important either. When I wrote in college – and it could very well be the support of nurturing teachers and classmates that artificially pumped up my ego – I got this intense feeling of satisfaction after I wrote a story. I felt like I wrote things people could relate to and empathize with. I haven’t had that feeling since.

While I was daydreaming about being that famous author, I think I may have hit upon what I could write about that could be fulfilling on this end, and perhaps insightful and compelling on yours. I’m talking, naturally, about my life.

(Stop laughing.)

I don’t mean it as a biography or anything like that. Nobody wants to hear about a 26-year-old from the suburbs of a Midwestern city. I wasn’t raped or molested; I don’t lead a double life as a gigolo; no one close to me has died (yet). In fact, I am not imaginative enough to create a character that has endured any or all of those things. Hell, my most harrowing moment thus far has been having my wisdom teeth pulled out. The biggest culture shock I experienced was going from a Catholic grade school to a public high school. The general details of my life are boring and average.

I thought college was the period in one’s life where you’re supposed to find out who you are. All I learned was that I liked beer and didn’t like people much. I’ve been trying to figure out since high school why I am the way I am. Why don’t I talk to anyone? Why don’t I have many friends? And why don’t I make any effort to meet new ones? In short, why am I so fucked up in the head?

This is where ethics come into play. Though I’ll be a primary character, there are people in my life that will be involved in these stories too. What of them? I write in a primarily creative non-fiction style, meaning that the gist of the story is true but some details may be embellished to make it more appealing or because our memories are imperfect.

I don’t have that tiny little editor in my head that says, “If you write this, there’s a good chance you could hurt someone you love.” On the one hand, I don’t really care because truth is truth and it needs to be told. On the other, I have few meaningful, good relationships as it is and I don’t really want to do anything to jeopardize them.

I need to make something clear about this: I don’t have dirt on these people. I don’t know any other way to explain what I’m talking about other than that they may be things that could be said, but shouldn’t or at the very least don’t really need to be.

An example: My relationship was shaky at best with my dad during my teen and college years (yeah, yeah, who’s wasn’t?) – it’s important to me because I feel it shaped who I am as a man – yet do I have to right to say things that may or may not be hurtful about a man who put a roof over my head and put me through school?

I don’t know. I can feel myself rambling now, again, and it’s of no use because I don’t have anything concrete in my mind anyway…

My idea for this project was a weekly blog comprising of mostly essays but some short stories too. Think anyone would like to read that? Would it be too much of a downer? Is the potential for jeopardizing my close relationships too great? Would anyone care?

I’ve been wrestling with this the last few days, and would love to hear what you think.

NCAA Tournament Time or Why It's Hard to Root for Marquette or Wisconsin

The NCAA Men’s Basketball tournament is one of my favorite events in the entire sports year. I don’t follow college basketball very closely throughout the regular season, but come tourney time it gets my full attention. And believe it or not, gambling isn’t a reason for this.

Under most circumstances, I don’t pay a lot of attention to collegiate athletics – I went to a D3 school where no one gave a shit about the sports teams – but there’s something about the one-and-done, do-or-die nature of the tournament that has sucked me in for the better part of the last 10 years or so. The Cinderellas. The “5-12” upset special. Mid-majors. “One Shining Moment.” Gus Johnson. A 16 seed coming thisclose to beating a 1. All these things and more go into putting the “mad” into March Madness.

It’s sort of easy to root for an underdog. I think it’s something deep in the American psyche to want to see David topple Goliath, especially when David is a small-town school with no athletic scholarships and Goliath is a national powerhouse. There’s something about seeing fresh-faced kids playing under the bright lights, unfazed by the pressure but sitting with arms locked on the bench, living and dying with every shot that makes it difficult to look away.

A few years back, 16-seed Albany almost took down 1-seed Connecticut. In fact, Albany was leading by ten with 10 minutes to play. Now I don’t know anyone from Albany, NY, but as the minutes wound down and it became more apparent that the Great Danes would fade away into the gentle night, I felt like one of their students must have felt – shellshocked, bummed, yet proud that their team took a perennial contender to the limit.

Besides rooting for obvious underdogs, I will always wish my home teams well. Most years, these are Marquette and Wisconsin. I’m not going to wish ill will on either of them, but I’m not going to cheer outright for them either. You can mark this down in your file of reasons Kevin is a spiteful son of a bitch if you wish, because my reasons have nothing to do with the style of basketball they play. (Their styles and personnel, by the way, will get neither past the second round in my opinion.)

It was 2003, and both Wisconsin and Marquette has pretty damn good basketball teams. Wisconsin had Devin Harris and others, Marquette had soon-to-be superstar Dywane Wade and Travis Deiner, who embodied the work ethic of Wisconsinites everywhere. It was the best of both worlds; I could root for both teams to make it far and if one lost, the remaining team was just as good if not better.

The tournament started and both squads made deep runs. Good for Wisconsin, bad for me. You see, I didn’t have cable television at the time, and antenna reception was spotty at best so when it came time to watch the later rounds I had to watch the game at my roommate’s friend’s house. I didn’t mind the friend so much; it was his girlfriend that bugged the shit out of me. She is the reason that I can’t put much effort into cheering for a Wisconsin-Madison basketball team.

She was all about Wisconsin to begin with, being from Madison and all (which is strike number one in my book) and then she went on to say how much Marquette sucked and wanted them to lose. This was fine, I guess, but her personality grated and grated on me with her stupid fucking Mac Book and her terrible taste in music. If I heard her describe Dave Matthews or Jason Mraz or whatever-the-fuck pseudo-hippie bullshit was popular at the time as “amazing” one more time, I was going to punch her in the throat. Now I know that not all kids from Madison are like that, but I was fully prepared to embrace the newly-evident stereotype and disown Wisconsin-Madison basketball forever.

Marquette eventually surpassed Wisconsin on its way to a Final Four berth, where they promptly got blown out. Oh well, I still had the smug satisfaction from picking the right team.

(An epilogue: I don’t hate Wis-Madison so much now. I think that’s because, last year, the media’s lips were placed firmly around Greg Oden’s cock. I was quite happy yelling at the TV when Wisconsin beat Ohio State in Madison.)

So why don’t I like Marquette anymore?

It’s really quite easy. I work not for, but on, Marquette’s campus. I see the students every goddamned day waiting for the bus. You want to talk about a smug sense of self-satisfaction, take a look at these rich, privileged kids. Most of the guys look like typical rich, frat-boy douchebags – and stupid, rich frat-boy douchebags too because I’ve seen them walking down the street with cases of Natural Light. If mommy and daddy are paying for school – and it’s true that I can’t say for sure whether or not they are – don’t you think you could at least spring for a Miller product? And the girls - don’t even get me started. Let’s just say they look down on me with disdain.

I know it’s a very shallow reason not to like a team, but that’s really all there is to it. It’s hard, though, because I think Tom Crean is a great coach and Dominic James is fairly exciting to watch. Maybe one day I’ll grow up and not be so concerned with what college kids are doing.

I guess I’ll just have to sit back and wait until UW-Milwaukee gets a good team again.

Annoying Songs to Play at Bars: Vol. 4

Band: The Bloodhound Gang
Album: Hooray for Boobies
Song: "A Lap Dance Is So Much Better When the Stripper is Crying"
Length: 5:38

"I was lonlier than Kunta Kinte at a Merle Haggard concert," kicks off perhaps one of the funniest -- and most disturbing -- songs of the last 20 or so years. I've been a Bloodhound Gang fan since I first heard "Fire Water Burn" in '96, so I'm quite used to their demented -- and oh so clever -- brand of humor. The patrons of your favorite drinking establishment, however, may not agree with you.

I can't imagine the three of you that read this blog have never heard of the BHG, so I don't have to describe their overall sound to you. As far as this song is concerned, it's basically Jimmy Pop talking over -- and I believe I stole this from a review of a Madonna song -- game boy synths about picking up this trashy girl and having sex with her. From that description it sounds like it could be a lame-ass hair metal song, but when Jimmy goes on and on about his fantasy of "Jesus Christ jackhammering Mickey Mouse in the doo-doo hole with a lawn dart while Garth Brooks gives birth to something resembling a cheddar cheese log on his tummy-tum," you know that you have entered the world of the extremely bizarre.

(You know what's sad? I didn't even have to look that line up. Maybe now I know why I couldn't get girls in college.)

I can personally vouch for this song being annoying on not one but two occasions.

The first was in college: Me and a buddy went to a bar on a Wednesday night, before it got very busy. (All you can drink for $7 was the deal that night) So I decided to play some music while I still had the chance, and when the song came on we both giggled like schoolgirls because the song is just so damn funny.

The "bouncers" (read: ID checkers) were split on their opinion of the song. One guy thought it was awesome, the other guy thought it was total shit and bitched about it through the entire song. We decided to leave soon thereafter, but because the one guy was a dick and complained through the whole thing (there weren't a whole lot of people at this point, so we heard it all) I left him a little present on the jukebox: a first-ballot hall-of-fame annoying song - "2112" by Rush. All seven parts of it totaling just over 20 minutes. Fuck him.

The other occurrence might just be more heinous. This particular bar has been problematic at skipping my songs (see "God Only Knows") so I don't really know why I keep trying. But I soldiered on, and decided to play it cool with Pink Floyd's "Time." Well, they skipped that one halfway through, and I had had a few whiskey and cokes before I went out so I was ready to riot. Of course the next song had to be 'Lap Dance' and I knew the douchebag bartender wouldn't stand for that. It lasted maybe a minute and that was it.

I have devised a ratings system just for fun, and mostly because I thought it incredibly funny to use "Lars Ulrichs" as my rating instead of stars or numbers.

Ratings go from 1-5, least to most.

Obscurity: 2.5
A lot of people are familiar with the Bloodhound Gang, yet I think that familiarity stops with the big hits like "The Bad Touch" and "Fire Water Burn." Still, if you like the BHG, chances are you've heard this song at some point. And if not, you owe it to yourself to check it out.

Length: 3
The five minutes and thirty-eight seconds really aren't that bad, but the droning nature of the song makes it seem so much longer.

Tuneoutability: 2
If the volume isn't turned up in the joint, this song will not rise above the din. If it is, that's great, but once again the droning nature and the monotone vocals make it kind of easy for someone to ignore the song. Then again, a country-style vocal of "A lap dance is so much better when the stripper is crying" might cause people to take notice.










The ratings betray how annoying this song actually is, as I've personally had this song skipped twice, so we'll split the difference and give it two-and-a-half Ulrichs.