It was quite an emotional week in the AP Fantasy Football League (witty league name still pending). The emotions ran the gamut: Angry, frustrated, jubilant, hungry, forlorn, devastated, apathetic...
I, personally, was so enthralled with my win over Scott Heisel last week, that I almost forgot to set my lineup for this weekend.
Turned out it didn't matter, though (on account of the awesomeness).
I know our art director Christopher checks in just to get the scores, so I'll get right to 'em.
Dandy Van Slykes (101) def. Venice Marmots (78) The biggest tragedy in this win for me was that I didn't engage in any trash talk with my opponent (Rochester's own) Laura. She's big on using all of the Smack Talk message boards to their fullest extent. And I let her down. I was an absentee owner. I did spend the weekend away from my computer and in Pittsburgh. But that's no excuse. Luckily, my No. 1 pick Steven Jackson finally decided he was, in fact, ready for some football and came alive for the first time this season. The timing was great since Laura's first-rounder Adrian Peterson turned in his best numbers of the year. I'm also kinda impressed that my squad was able to pull out the W with six of my players on bye weeks. So here's some belated trash: You're starting two Buffalo Bills, huh? You do realize punters don't count in fantasy, right?
Team Exitonefiftytwo (83) def. Awesometown Unicorns (63) Cameron started Tony Romo at QB. Ben started J.T. Irrelevant or whatever his name is from the 49ers. Which team do you think won? If you're anything like me, you'll be shocked to know that Ben managed to squeak by with a 20-point win. It might have had something to do with the fact that Cam started both a kicker and defense who didn't play last week, and Ben net 26 points out of his. It also could be that Tony Romo is imposing too much pressure on himself because he realizes what his failure could eventually lead to.
San Diego Whale Vaginas (97) def. I Hate California (83) This is the game that took all my hopes and dreams, burned them and buried them in the ground. In the battle between winless teams, AP's Scott Heisel managed to eek out a victory over my girlfriend Katie. That was thanks almost entirely to Jets receiver Laveranues Coles catching 72 touchdowns in one quarter. Seriously, if Coles had posted human wide receiver numbers instead of the twenty-freaking-eight he managed, Katie would have likely won. And now she's informed me that she quits. Thanks, Scott. When I show up at your door when I'm 74 and looking for any human contact to keep me from reflecting on my lonely, loveless life, you better answer. And you better have Oreos.
Rambunctious Coons (123) def. 85 Mafia (72) While our copy editor Jennifer managed a few more points than her 16 (sixteen) last weekend and turned in a respectable game, she had the misfortune of playing Ronny--who scored an obscene amount of points thanks to a downright unfunny game and 6 (six) TDs from AARP member Brett Favre. That puts Ronny firmly in a tie for first in his division, and it leaves Jen with a perpetual void where her win total should be. Of course, she was a little preoccupied last weekend on account of the whole getting married thing. But the honeymoon's over, Grathwol. Get your head in the game.
Team Marcella (43) def. Cleveland Hasselhoffs (26) Why oh why couldn't Katie or Jen have played either of these two teams? In what turned out to be the Battle Of Futility, AP's own Zak Bristo managed to lose to a team that doesn't have an owner. If Zak hadn't started two players with bye weeks (Moss and Roy Williams) and one who was out with a bum knee (Parker), he might have had a chance against the ghost team. But, alas, he only mustered a mind-bottling (you heard me) eight points between all his running backs, receivers and tight end. The team that doesn't have an owner is now officially doing better than four teams that do. Perhaps this fantasy football thing isn't really as difficult as we make it out.
Chicago Quails (63) def. Milwaukee Milkmen (54) Just like everyone predicted the Browns/Bengals game to be a high-flying shootout (ha), this match up between first-place teams ended up being a low-scoring affair. Chris and the Quails didn't get the memo about Carson Palmer not playing but Zach and the Milkmen didn't get the memo about Jerramy Stevens and Pierre Thomas sucking. Still, neither of these guys are in any real jeopardy of losing again until they play each other again.
For as self-obsessed as I am, I'm still always completely caught off-guard when I'm confronted with the fact that people actually pay attention to the stuff I write.
Maybe it's just me. Maybe losing that election to be my 7th grade homeroom representative had lingering effects on my self-esteem. But it's pretty astounding to me when anyone gives a shit about what I think. (And I'm pretty sure the people closest to me share the same dumbfounded amazement.)
So I'm just now getting used to the fact that the musicians I write about (actually, to a much more likely extent: their publicists) will reference a quote from me on their websites or in press releases. I'm not special (don't listen to that, mom). I mean, this happens to anyone at AP--and really, to anyone in the media. You know what I'm talking about. All those ads or CD stickers that say things like:
"Exceptionally Tolerable." -- Alternative Press
It's kinda weird when something you write ends up in a place like that. Cause, most likely, you wrote it at 3:43 a.m. in your darkened apartment with a bowl of soggy Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch next to you, just praying that you're gonna make your deadline. Not that you don't mean every word you said. You just don't expect anyone to latch onto it. Especially when it's a band you grew up loving.
That's kinda how I felt late last week when Heisel told me that I needed to instantly check out the Toadies' website.
They totally posted my Listening Station write-up about the band.
So this got me to thinking about other instances where I was quoted or referenced or exploited. And since I have 96 minutes before this blog is officially past my deadline, I'm gonna use that as today's topic.
So, in no order, here's my ultra-narcissistic look back at some of my favorites:
UNKLE - War Stories press release “With UNKLE’s third proper release, the outfit veer in two directions nobody foresaw: Live…and West- to record with stoner-rock icon Chris Goss…This organic indulgence is initially disconcerting, but upon closer inspection, UNKLE’s familiar, cinematic aesthetic reveals itself…” --Tim Karan, ALTERNATIVE PRESS (September 2007)
I completely went nuts for UNKLE when Psyence Fiction came out in 1998. I was working at the now-defunct Music X in my college town and I used to subject my co-workers and innocent customers to repeated listenings for hours on end. When I got a chance to write the review for War Stories, it was kind of trippy to think that a decade earlier, I was just a disheveled record store sales assistant. And now I was a disheveled magazine editor. I was a little bummed when I saw this quote, because I don't think it's super-flattering for UNKLE. I'm can't be sure, but knowing me, I'm pretty sure there was a far more hyperbolic sentence they coulda gone with.
THRICE - MySpace page You probably know by now that Thrice are just about infallible to me. I vote for them collectively as write-ins on every regional voting ballot. So I was out of my mind stoked when they got hold of my early review of The Alchemy Index and not only posted it in full on their MySpace page, but posted a bulletin telling everyone to check it out. For a minute, I thought about turning in my resignation, because there was really nowhere to go from there but down....and down I promptly went. It was my first real taste of message board messiahs disagreeing with me. I was instantly reamed a new orifice on one website in particular that claimed that I obviously hadn't actually listened to the record (although I gave it 4 out of 5 stars), mostly because I made the apparent unforgivable sin of referencing the band Chevelle. In hindsight, I probably could've come up with a different band to compare the album to. But then I never would've had the indescribable pleasure of being lambasted publicly by kids who've never met me.
GLOS - MySpace page Glos is the project of brother-sister duo Keeley Davis (Sparta, Engine Down) and Maura Davis (Denali, Ambulette). I legitimately loved their debut album, so I made it my Listening Station pick. Then it showed up on their MySpace. This one was awesome, not so much because I was glad they liked the write-up, but more because I may or may not daydream about a life where Maura and I live in a cozy little studio apartment somewhere in the suburbs of Portland or someplace like that. And Maura would be like, "Oh, isn't it weird how that one little paragraph led to our beautiful, beautiful life together? Let's watch NFL Gameday." This is all hypothetical, though. Remember I said, "may or may not daydream about..." (But it's true.) (Or is it?) (Probably.) (Or is it?)
(yeah.)
Evanescence - EvThreads message board So, yeah. I don't hate Evanescence. Sue me. We've already established that I like Chevelle. But when I included them in my 10 Essential list on albums I own that I should be ashamed of, that ended up becoming a topic of discussion on a fansite. I'm really glad that most of the participants seemed to get what I was going for, and realized that I was actually...kind of one of them.
I knew that my blog was rising in popularity when the guy at the bagel place recognized me and gave me a free drink. (It was actually because he thought I was someone named Seth, but I'm gonna count it.)
But I never thought my entire life and my very soul would be ripped from me and bastardized by HBO.
Please compare:
Here's what the official website for The Life & Times Of Tim--if that is its real name--says:
Who is Tim?
Tim is a young guy who always tries to do the right thing, but for some reason the world conspires against him. In many episodes, he's trying to better himself, but the harder he tries, the worse things become. Everybody makes mistakes, but for Tim--a self-conscious young guy living in New York--just getting out of bed in the morning could be the worst decision he makes all day.
I'm not sure what's more troubling about this.
The fact that HBO has obviously been secretly monitoring me for months to get my exact look, wardrobe and mannerisms down.
The fact that HBO has stolen everything that ever made me interesting, thus depriving me of mandatory blog fodder.
The fact that I'm apparently a young man going nowhere.
(Joke's on them. If you've been reading my blog, you know I'm not young at all.)
Just watch:
What the hell?
That JUST happened to me.
Now I know how Homer Simpson felt when he stumbled across the Mr. Sparkle Detergent.
This is ALMOST as traumatic as when I discovered that another guy named Tim Karan had stolen the website domain that should rightfully be mine.
Well.
I'm depressed now.
Next you're gonna tell me that somebody stole the working title of my autobiography.
After this past weekend in the AP Fantasy Football League and the results of my highly anticipated bout with music editor Scott Heisel, I took yesterday off to enjoy the ensuing parade.
It got out of hand pretty quick.
(FYI: When you do a Google image search for "parade," you get a staggering amount of porn sites. Just sayin'. It's a gross, gross thing, this inter-net of mankind's.)
So let's get right to it.
Dandy Van Slykes (104) def. San Diego Whale Vaginas (80) I'm not a scientist. I'm just a man. A man who could probably beat Scott Heisel at fantasy football without a computer, contact with the outside world and the capacity for abstract thought. (And I'm gonna write this particular description in that way that Scott hates.) My team was pretty mediocre this week, if you ask me. But Scott's was mediocre-er. He started one guy (Justin Fargas) who didn't play on Sunday and one guy (Derek Anderson) who probably shouldn't have played. So I can beat Scott at fantasy football. Is that really something to be proud of? Make-believe football?
I think so, yes.
Venice Marmots (97) def. Team Exitonefiftytwo (94) Laura and Ben are pretty much the only ones in the league to use the "Smack Board" to its full potential. Except instead of talking trash on each other, they got along famously and instead made fun of me: Ben (Sep 21 10:25 PM): at least the points will cheer Tim up, poor him... being 30. horrible. So I don't think there were any hard feelings from Ben when Laura managed to hold T.O. to 1 point and squeeze out a win. These guys are both contenders and they could each easily beat Scott Heisel with only a kicker and a tight end.
Awesometown Unicorns (97) def. I Hate California (89) This was kind of a heart breaker. Mostly for me. Cameron managed to keep my girlfriend's team at 0-3 with this tight one. I really kinda need Katie to win at least one game so that she won't become completely disinterested. She already barely remembers that she has a team. And when Ronnie Brown scored five (that's 5) touchdowns on Sunday, I'm pretty sure she didn't know he was on her team. All I want is a girlfriend who I can talk passionately about fantasy football with. That's the dream. Is it so unattainable? Apparently Cameron hates love.
Rambunctious Coons (90) def. Cleveland Hasselhoffs (58) Yee. Not pretty. On paper, our ad exec Zak looked like he had a shot against Ronny--who got 43 zillion points from his once-underachieving running backs like Larry Johnson (who scored more than almost all of Zak's position players combined). I'm trying to figure out a way to automatically deduct points from Ronny for owning Brett Favre when he plays Monday Night Football games. Nothing against Brett the Jet. I just can't stand to hear commentators talk about him. He's just a football player, fellas. He's not this guy.
Milwaukee Milkmen (75) def. Team Marcella (58) I'd just like to point out that the team with an absentee owner (Team Marcella) scored as many points as Zak and the Cleveland Hasselhoffs. But the Zach that was facing Marcella this week (note the different spellings of Zak and Zach), made short work of the ghost team. However, that team would have had a pretty easy time beating one of the next two teams...
Chicago Quails (97) really def. 85 Mafia (16) Our copy editor Jennifer and her 85 Mafia don't need our pity. But we're going to offer it anyway. Sixteen points? It doesn't help that every quarterback she picks up gets demoted due to poor play (Tarvaris Jackson) or being sad (Vince Young). But only two people on her team scored more than 3 points and one was her kicker. In fact, even though Jackson didn't play and got Jen zero points, he still was more productive than her defense (the Patriots) who ended up with negative seven points. Not to detract from the stellar day that Chris and the Quails turned in. If I had to speculate, I'd say he's probably the front runner this season. But to lose this game against Jen, it would've taken somebody far more clueless.
Tune in next blog, when I swear I'll talk about music. At least a little.
Things like: Disorganized, self-sabotaging, modest, devastatingly handsome, ironic, Steve, immature and really awesome at making lists about myself.
But "tidy" has never been one of them.
So when I heard on the news that fall is here, I got to thinking, "Crud. I should probably get to that spring cleaning." (Keep in mind, this is Spring Cleaning '08. I'm not getting a jump on next year. Spring Cleaning '09 is penciled in for sometime around November of 2011.)
I ventured into my hallway closet and felt the sweet agony of 73 CD cases cascading from the top shelf onto my skull. I had a few minutes while I lay stunned on the floor to look at the jewel cases a little closer.
When I came to, I decided to give most of them a shot.
So here's the best of what I somehow let slip by me in the past few months. If I'm a little off in my recommendations, it could be that I might have a mild concussion.
Lower Definition - The Greatest Of All Lost Arts
Ever wonder what Incubus would've sounded like if they'd just said, "You know, this song 'Drive' is radio-friendly and all, but don't you think it's weird that it'll probably be on Now That's What I Call Music! 9? Ferret's Lower Definition might be living out that alternate timeline.
Bloc Party - Intimacy
In 2005, I actually couldn't finish a sentence without uttering the words, "Bloc Party." It's true. It's not funny. It was a problem. I saw three speech therapists for it. Okay, none of that's completely true. (Disregard the sentence where I said, "It's true.") Still, you get the point. I loved Silent Alarm. But I was so underwhelmed and disillusioned with the follow-up A Weekend In The City, that I somehow let the online release of Intimacy sneak right past me. Now that I'm giving it a fair spin, I think I Bloc Party...
...shit...
Ed Laurie - Meanwhile In The Park
Somewhere along the line, my unnecessary teenage angst was replaced with unnecessary post-collegiate melancholy. It's true. (You can believe me when I say "It's true" this time.) I don't think I have the energy to really be angry anymore. Instead, I jump straight to forlorn. This CD, possibly the saddest effing album ever recorded by man, will be perfect for the next time I feel like the world has conspired against me. Which should happen any second now.
Metaform - Standing On The Shoulders Of Giants
All my life (or since 1996), I've been looking for an instrumental hip-hop album that could compare to DJ Shadow's Endtroducing. Apparently I'm not the only one, since every press release I receive now for any DJ of any sort contains the phrase: "For fans of DJ Shadow." After the first 642 instances of this, I kinda stopped believing and somehow this disc made its way from my desk at work to my closet without a play. Little did I know my closet housed so much awesomeness (not even including that N64 Mario Kart cartridge or those tax forms I needed last year).
So the other day, something kind of weird happened to me.
It really shouldn't have been all that surprising, seeing as how I'd had the better part of three decades to emotionally prepare.
But, still, it kinda snuck up on me.
I turned 30.
Please don't judge me.
I did all I could to delay it. (Believe me. For proof, you need look no further than my apartment littered with freeze pop wrappers and baseball cards.)
At first, I was a little traumatized.
But then somebody gave me a pamphlet, and I realized that there are hundreds of people just like me.
People older than 29.
I know what you're saying. "Man, wow. That sucks. You never think that'll happen to anyone you know. It's so surreal."
But I was once like you:
(Don't let the fact that I'm doing dishes fool you. That really is me.)
So now that I've officially fallen to the other side, I feel like it's my civic responsibility to create awareness for my affliction. I want to clear up a few misconceptions you might have about 30 year-olds (I'd say that we prefer to be called the "youth impaired," but that's just effing stupid.)
MISCONCEPTION: By the time you're 30, you'll be married and living in a house somewhere in the suburbs. In all honesty, this actually could happen to you. I've got plenty of settled down friends who used to go to see Radiohead with me when they were still playing clubs. But a few of us manage to maneuver through our 20s without a permanent significant other and only a fleeting comprehension of what a 401(k) is. I actually have no idea when I'll buy a house. I assume it'll be when they make houses $35.99.
MISCONCEPTION: When you're 30, we'll all be living in floating cities and drive flying cars like in The Fifth Element. I thought that too, chief. I thought that too. I once rolled my car over a small cliff. But that wasn't really the same thing.
MISCONCEPTION: When you're 30, you'll be too grown up for video games. Not true. In fact, just last weekend, I upgraded to Xbox Live. I felt like I could either sign up for a gym or get Xbox Live. This decision may be one of those turning points where your life goes in a very unhealthy direction. Like, if I were Ashton Kutcher in The Butterfly Effect, this would be the moment that I either start to become a wealthy, successful entrepreneur or a chubby, loveless middle-aged guy who collects $87 anime figurines.
MISCONCEPTION: By the time you're 30, you'll be listening to nothing but John Mayer and the sound of your dying soul. I've seen this happen to people I love. But it didn't happen to me. In fact, I still spend way more time than I probably should sitting at my computer with my headphones on and pretending that I'm actually in the band I'm listening to (it's usually Thrice or Brand New or Three 6 Mafia). While a lot of my friends are stuck in 1997 (and that year definitely does have a hold on me), I think I have pretty decent musical taste. I discovered this band Exotic Animal Petting Zoo today. I have friends who are still into Candlebox.
MISCONCEPTION: When you're 30, you'll have everything figured out. Clearly, I am nowhere close on this one. I'm still trying to figure out what everything is, let alone figuring said things out. Granted, I'm a little less together than someone as youth impaired as me should be. But when I look around at most of the people I graduated high school with, it's like: Yeah, I only own six plates. But at least I don't have three different child support payments to make. That, in itself, has gotta be considered a win.
The thing I guess I hope you take away from this exercise in egocentrism is this:
If you're under 27 and you get upset that on your birthday that you're getting old, I freaking hate you. (The same way that Pettigrew undoubtedly hates me right now for acting like I'm old.)
So, first off: A gazillion thanks to everyone who submitted their iTunes 8.0 playlists. Feel free to keep them coming.
As I demonstrated the new version to Scott Heisel, I said, "Everything that people have written about in science books is going to change." Actually, I'm pretty sure that's a line from Signs. But I don't care. I don't need to have any more original thoughts. iTunes will handle it.
I wonder if I still have to brush my teeth?
Anyway. For the road, here's my playlist for Jawbox's "Savory," as mentioned earlier:
1. Quicksand "Fazer" 2. The Life And Times "Running Red Lights" 3. HUM "If You Are To Bloom" 4. Soundgarden "Room A Thousand Years Wide" 5. The Get Up Kids "Don't Hate Me" 6. Built To Spill "Randy Described Eternity" 7. No Knife "The Red Ballroom" 8. Braid "A Dozen Roses" 9. Pretty Girls Make Graves "All Medicated Geniuses" 10. Helmet "Sinatra"
Gah! I can't believe how awesome that playlist is. It's like Apple crawled inside my temporal lobe and grabbed everything that makes me happy to be alive.
And now for something that does the exact opposite of that, here are the results from Week 2 of the AP Fantasy Football League.
Venice Marmots (100) def. I Hate California (67) I liked Eli Manning a lot more when he was horrible and always moping after incomplete passes. Actually, he still mopes, but I guess that Super Bowl MVP (which actually didn't occur in an alternate universe as I'd originally thought) has his confidence up high enough to hand Laura 22 points and the win. But do you really win with Eli as your quarterback?
Awesometown Unicorns (77) def. San Diego Whale Vaginas (75) While Scott was out of town, he wasn't able to change his lineup, but who are we kidding? It's usually better when Scott can do the least amount of damage to his team. Cam managed to eek out a two-point win over him even without subbing out her injured stud receiver. I'm not sure if Cam has moved to the U.K. yet, where she'll have that advantage of seeing into the future (it's a long story: See last week's blog), but with Scott hanging in there with Browns flailing quarterback Derek Anderson, she didn't even really need the ability to see through space and time to win.
Exit Onefiftytwo (98) def. Dandy Van Slykes (-2) Okay, so I didn't actually come away with negative points. But I did lose by 34 points. Which ain't anything I'll be writing home about. The main kick in the ear was that my opponent Ben snagged 22 points from the Packers defense. (By comparison, my Vikings D earned me 6.) That means his D scored more than any of my offensive players. I'm not a fantasy football doctor, but I know that's an ominous symptom of Acute Shaunalexanderism (in layman's terms: my team sucks).
Rambuctious Coons (88) def. Team Marcella (39) Right. So I'm pretty sure the owner of Team Marcella has still yet to log in. She played both the injured Tom Brady (who actually spent Sunday trying to secure the rights so this picture never gets out) and Willis McGahee, whose game was postponed. So Ronnie really didn't need the huge week out of Anquan Boldin. He coulda won with this guy at quarterback. So, unless the owner of Marcella is actually out there, this team spot is up for grabs. Anyone wanna make a case why they should take it over?
Milwaukee Milkmen (96) def. 85 Mafia (57) Jennifer's had some hard luck. First, she drafted Torry Holt in the first round. Then, she drafted Chad Johnson in the second. Now her quarterback Vince Young just lost his job because he talked about suicide to his therapist. Here's the thing: Aren't you supposed to be able to tell your therapist anything without seeing it on the score ticker on ESPN. It was like:
Next thing you know, Young's gonna shave his head, take some swings at the paparazzi and then come back nine months later to sweep the VMAs.
Chicago Quails (102) def. Cleveland Hasselhoffs (96) Well, this made it official that everyone who works at AP lost this week. (Which was especially hard on me because the team of Mike Shea and I also lost in the semi-finals of our Summer picnic cornhole team. This isn't us.) The big day from Darren McFadden didn't help Zak out since Chris was playing Brandon Marshall and his otherworldly numbers. Now that I'm looking at the final standings, I can't help but notice some similarities between both teams' logos...
Next week's gonna be epic. It'll see me vs. Scott Heisel for the first time this season. Scott's already predicted to win. But Scott doesn't have my secret weapon: I'll likely be drunk.
I know that it's all just a brilliant device to make me subconsciously want to spend more and more money on things I likely don't need, but damn it.
I am in love with iTunes v. 8.0.
Like disturbingly in love. More disturbing than it would be in general just to connect with an online media service. This goes way beyond that. I'm already scribbling down my possible married names.
Mr. Timothy iTunes.
Mr. Timothy 8.0.
Dr. Raul Magnificent.
Here's the thing. I'm not really one of those cats who worships at the altar of Steve Jobs.
I'm actually about six years behind on most rudimentary and essential technological advances.
But have you seen what iTunes' new "Genius" mode is capable of?
Beautiful, horrible greatness.
The whole thing is a little 1984 (the book; not the year that Frankie Goes To Hollywood taught us how to love). Basically, you let Apple inspect your iTunes library, and then it instantly knows you better than you ever remotely have.
Just click on one song and it instantly tells you all of the albums or songs by that artist that you need to own. (And, conveniently, it has links to instantly purchase all of them.)
Just by playing a Radiohead song, it immediately told me about a dozen random B-sides I've never ever heard. It's the sort of thing that will immediately torch the bank accounts of die-hard collectors and the obsessive compulsive, alike.
And even better: By clicking on one song, you can ask it to build a playlist around it. Here's the kicker: Those playlists are effing amazing.
It takes songs that you already have. Songs probably hidden in albums you haphazardly ripped from a friend seven months ago and never got around to listening to. And it makes a playlist that's both relevant in the artists it chooses and almost dead-on when it comes to matching something about that song.
So basically, I've been spending the past 183 minutes randomly seeing what playlists build around some of my favorite songs. For example, here's what I got when I entered...
Brand New's "Sowing Season":
1. Straylight Run "Existentialism On Prom Night"
2. Minus The Bear "Pachuca Sunrise (Alias remix)"
3. Pinback "Good To Sea"
4. Cursive "The Recluse"
5. Jimmy Eat World "Big Casino"
6. Saosin "It's Far Better To Learn"
7. Placebo "Infra-Red (live)"
8. Alkaline Trio "Mercy Me"
9. Circa Survive "The Difference Between Medicine And Poison Is In The Dose"
10. Thrice "Firebreather"
I could never make that playlist on my own. In theory, I could. But I really couldn't.
Now I don't have to wonder how I feel anymore.
iTunes will tell me.
Finally.
Put in your favorite song and see what it comes up with.
Lemme know the top 10 it spits back.
I don't know who gets to vote for the Nobel Peace Prize, but if they could hear the playlist I just got for Jawbox's "Savory," they'd be on board.
Up until about four months ago, Jason Pettigrew could routinely be heard saying that I have about four heartbeats per minute.
But I think I might have upped the BPM to about seven today.
It was an exceptionally good mail day for me.
As I said earlier, all the editors at AP get inundated with a flood of plastic and broken dreams called "promos."
But I was pretty stoked with my haul this day.
Here's why:
Thursday/Envy
Split
I wasn't too sure what to expect from this seven-track split between everybody's favorite post-hardcore outfit named for the best night of TV (depending on where they decide to put Lost this year) and the only Japanese screamo outfit I wish I could understand. But 11 hours later, this is pretty much the only CD I can even imagine myself listening to for the foreseeable future. The Thursday tracks are the best things I've heard since Heisel pulled me into his office to listen to the new Norma Jean. Two of the tracks are instrumentals and sound like a combination of Mono and the first two EPs of The Alchemy Index. If you know anything about me, you know that's kind of like saying, it's like a combination of Jenna Fischer and Cotton Candy Blizzards. It's almost too much for me to comprehend right now and I have to stop thinking about it. Buy this the nanosecond you can.
The Subways
All Or Nothing
I felt the same about the Subways' first album, Young For Eternity, as I do about Hugh Grant. ("Yeah, I guess the accent's charming and all, but I'd still rather watch Benny Hill.") I remember seeing the Subways on TV and just thinking that I would bet 300 pounds that the frontman was in love with the cute female bassist. (Lo and behold, she was the Emma Watson to his red-headed wizard kid.) I think I like this new album so much because the pair split during the making of it and--even though some of the songs make me uncomfortable in that "Don't Speak"-era No Doubt kinda way ("Strawberry Blonde," I'm looking in your direction) I've always believed that love kills more bands than black tar heroin. And these guys are just heartbroken enough to be interesting to me.
Frank Turner
Love Ire & Song
While we're talking about lovelorn British peoples...bloody hell do I love the new Frank Turner full-length. Imagine if Damien Rice was a little more pissed (I mean that in the "drunk" way and not so much in the way that I'm pissed that the weird commercial with Jerry Seinfeld and Bill Gates is on every single commercial break) and a thousand times less refined. Yeah, I know that some of Rice's lyrics are downright obscene, but there's something way more inherently filthy and perfect about this record.
My Xbox 360
Yes. Apparently just like everyone else who purchased an Xbox 360 and played it sparingly over the course of two months, mine needed to get sent back in for repairs. (Maybe, Bill Gates, you coulda spent a little more time making sure these things don't shit their respective beds instead of making incomprehensible, largely unfunny commercials.) During peak Madden season. After three weeks, it has returned to me with a clean bill of health and a renewed respect for the fragility of life. (Mostly because they just gave me a new one.)
Consider The Thief
Soldiers & Saints EP
This is an unsigned band that I actually scouted out for our AP&R section a few issues back. I knew I liked them then, but now that I've heard their full EP, I'm feeling a lot more prophetic than I have in a while. If you refer back to my thoughts on the Thursday split, you know that I have a (yeah, I'm gonna say it, Rachel) preternatural love of Thrice. And this EP basically picks up right in the middle of Vheissu and I'm pretty sure this will be the last time I mention them as an unsigned band. I deserve a raise.
Trenches
The Tide Will Swallow Us Whole
Whoa. This is the dark horse of today's mail. And I mean that almost literally (if this CD were a horse). I kinda tossed it and thought I'd be able to enjoy my spicy Italian Subway footlong. But that was simply not meant to be. It's sludgy. It's hyper-melodic. It's impossible to digest to. It's rare that I truly endorse anything this heavy, but it's also rare that I actually use this blog to write about music. So apparently anything can happen today.
There. I just blew five issues' worth of Listening Station picks in one fell swoop.
Now I realize that most of you are here for updates on the Hellogoodbye lineup change. And professional football is likely tied in with all the things you can't stand: Binge drinking, Abercrombrie baseball caps and tribal tattoos. (Refer to Image 1B.) But bear with me. Somewhere along the line I developed the ability to respect both the nuances of a Brand New B-side and a perfectly executed halfback draw.
I'm like the dude from Felicity in Underworld who's half-vampire and half-werewolf.
And there are more of us than you know.
So I'm happy to say that I started out the season 1-0, thanks.
That's me--Dandy Van Slykes--eking out my competitor, who much to her dismay (for several reasons) is my girlfriend. Hey, I didn't plan out the schedule.
Going into the Monday night games, I was nursing a two-point lead with only the Vikings defense to play. Defenses can actually lose you points in make believe football, so I was in jeopardy. For a moment, I thought about just benching the squad, to guarantee a victory. But then I remembered that I don't want to die alone.
This was a big win for Cam--who you might recognize as one of the readers who commented a ton on my "How to become a big, rich, attractive music journalist" blog. When she applied for the league, I couldn't really turn her down.
However, she just informed us that she received word that she's leaving for the U.K. until December. She was afraid that might hurt her chances in the league, seeing as how she'll be five hours ahead of us. But, if anything, I think it gives her an unfair advantage, since she'll get to see how the games turn out five hours before we do. (Moving to the U.K. is apparently a lot like being in Back To The Future 2.)
That's music editor Scott Heisel with the inappropriate name and the loss. Scott will boast that his precious Bears kicker Robbie Gould scored more points than any of his wide receivers. But he doesn't realize that's a bad thing.
In what was the blowout of the week, AP copy editor Jen Grathwol was mercilessly pummeled by AP ad exec/v-neck aficionado Zak Bristo. On paper, Jen's team looked legit. But she was ravaged by injuries and the all-around crappiness of Chad Ocho Cinco (the very player she named her team after).
Oh, if only the Monday Night Football commentators had known that there was an actual battle going on between Brett Favre and his replacement--who may or may not be Creed's Scott Stapp. (Refer to Image 1C). Maybe we wouldn't have had to listen to the constant Favre comparisons during the Packers game.
Image 1C:
(For the record, Scott Stapp won.)
Team Marcella (72) def. Chicago Quails (65) Team Marcella was the only fantasy team starting Tom Brady and his season-ending surgery to actually win this week. That might not fly next week, though, since I'm pretty sure the owner of that team hasn't actually logged into the league yet. That's good news for Brett Favre, who's playing that team in our league next week. See?
Look, I'm not totally clear on what's considered privileged information at the AP skyscraper. I'm sure there are lots of things (like Scott's love of Journey and my love of pretty much any band I love--Soundgarden, Chevelle, Silverchair) that the higher-ups would prefer didn't get out.
But here's the thing: My life is so utterly uninteresting that if something of even a remote semblance of excitement occurs, I'm forced to jump on it for blog fodder.
So when I encountered the elusive AP office mouse yesterday, my initial reaction was, "Eep." My secondary reaction was, "Thank god. I have something to blog about tomorrow."
First of all, having mice is nothing to be ashamed of. It's not a sign that you're any more slovenly than any other national music publication. Mice is everywhere, son.
Seriously.
At any given moment, you're probably about six feet (or less) away from a mouse. They're all through walls and floors everywhere.
But you only ever realize they're there when an especially brave (or stupid) one blows their ninja-like stealth system and decides to run out into the open. Still, you probably wouldn't ever know that a mouse had ever been near you if they could somehow refrain from constantly pooping as they run. (If humans were like this, the Olympics would be a completely different affair.)
Anyway.
We'd been hearing a lot of rumors about the presence of a mouse within the last week. I'm not sure if there was any visual confirmation.
But yesterday, when I went to the office to blog and get a little caught up on some things (pick up the Sour Patch Kids I left there), I noticed a lot more mouse running evidence than usual.
He was close. I knew that. But I didn't want to show fear.
I went about my blogging and walked into the hall to grab some pages I'd printed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tiny flash a few feet away. I assumed it was just a ghost, since the AP office after hours is creepy as h.
But then on my way back, I saw it dart back across the kitchen.
It's really difficult to photograph a mouse, since they move about 400 mph and can fit through a space the size of a dime, so you'll have to just go by this artist's rendering.
I cornered it behind the couch in the kitchen with nothing but a garbage bag and a big, empty box to trap it.
I stood there motionless for a good eight minutes. Periodically, I'd hear a little shuffling. After a few more minutes I decided the time was right. I quickly shook the couch, for some reason thinking I could catch up to it when it scurried away. But there was nothing. Then I was scared. Could this be a ghost mouse? That's way scarier than just a ghost or a mouse.
So I decided the best thing I could do would be stay absolutely still. For 23 minutes.
When I finally gave up, I let my guard down and turned around.
And it was standing right behind me, next to the table.
Then I chased it around the kitchen with the box much like Chevy Chase or Wile E. Coyote would.
And then it was gone.
So I went back to my desk to gather my things and I began to shut down my computer.
It was then that I noticed there was a lot more mouse running evidence all over my desk.
I can't be certain it wasn't there before.
But I do think I know where that mouse was during the 23 minutes I was stalking it.
So I couldn't help but notice that a few of the other blogs on this site have taken a turn for the well-informed and otherwise socially relevant.
The presidential election? The church's stance on homosexuality?
That's intimidating stuff to go up against. And, clearly, since the most pressing matter currently going on in my brain involves whether or not I should put on pants today, I can't really compete.
But I feel obligated to demonstrate that I have a tenuous grasp of the world around me, so I'm gonna supply a few thoughts on some of what's going on in music.
Metallica loves illegal downloading. They can't get enough of it. A few years back, Metallica drummer/egotist Lars Ulrich pretty much single-handedly deprived the world of the burgeoning awesomeness that was Napster and semi-legit file-swapping. Metallica became the most visible villains in music since Yoko Ono and/or Chad Kroeger. But with the release of the metallurgists' forthcoming Death Magnetic, Ulrich apparently has come to terms with the fact that, as much as we'd all like it to be, it's not 1987 anymore. He told a San Francisco radio station, "If this thing leaks all over the world today or tomorrow, happy days." Here's the thing: I have a bad feeling about all this. Although, yeah, Metallica has seemingly made nice with the internet (they began allowing fans to download their entire back catalog in 2006, three years after trying to press charges against everyone who ever listened to "My Friend Misery" on anything that wasn't a Metallica-sanctioned listening device), I just don't buy it. I get the feeling that Ulrich has stumbled across a loophole in legislation that will somehow make it so Metallica can sue us all. Especially if we realize that "The Day That Never Comes" is actually just "Welcome Home (Sanitarium)" and "One" thrown together.
The British are going to kick Geoff Rickly's arse United Nations, the side-project of Thursday's Rickly and every-other-band's Daryl Palumbo, decided that the best band to eff-around with was the Beatles. Their self-titled debut features art by British anarchist James Cauty, reworking the iconic cover of Abbey Road.
Turns out that stores are refusing to carry U.N.'s album because of copyright issues. But I get the feeling they're way more concerned that it's gonna piss off the three or four people who have a fondness for the Fab Four.
Next time, I'd consider reworking an album that people already aren't too fond of. Like maybe this:
I get the feeling that Blink-182 are probably gonna headline Warped Tour 2010. This is just a hunch. But Travis Barker just told Metromix in L.A. during the obligatory question about a Blink reunion that he just wasn't sure. But I think he's saying there's a chance. He said:
"I don't know. You know, to be honest with you, I haven't spoken to Tom [DeLonge] in five years. I speak to Mark [Hoppus] every day, he's one of my greatest friends, so...that's the status of that. I think everyone would have to be friends, and I think we'd all have to want to do it in order for it to happen."
But I dunno. There's gotta be good money in providing live drum tracks for rap songs that probably coulda done with a drum machine:
Three months ago, I sat at the precipice of summer with a head full of ambitious plans and a handful of melted peanut M&Ms.
Now here we are, undeniably in September. It's pretty much as hot as summer, but it's just not cute anymore.
But now that I'm firmly planted in whatever phase it is that traditionally comes after denial, I'm ready to come to terms with a few of the things I set out to do and never accomplished.
1. Organize the promo CDs that are threatening to overrun my desk and my very soul.
That picture doesn't even come close to depicting the gravity of the situation. Those stacks are just the ones I had to move to find my camera. That's about a two-day haul when you're an editor at AP. I know what you're saying. "What are you bitching about, you meep? I'd kill to get that many free CDs." Yeah. I was once like you. But imagine being in an enclosed room with no windows or doors that just kept constantly filling with cotton candy. In theory, that sounds like the best time any human has ever had ever. But after a while, as the cotton candy begins to fill all of your orifices, you really kinda get over cotton candy. (Although this whole scenario still sounds a little delicious to me. I can't stay mad at cotton candy. Not even in flimsy metaphors.)
2. Start a band with any or all of the following: Jesse Lacey, Chino Moreno, either of the Breckenridges from Thrice, my friend Artie or this guy.
I figured what with all these side projects running rampant like United Nations and Two Tongues and the apparent 6-band minimum it takes to be in music these days, it'd be pretty easy to unwittingly stumble into a supergroup or seven. Granted, I don't play any instrument especially well (or, in most cases, at all). Still, back in May, I fully planned to be famous as shit by now. Sadly, the only place I get recognized is at the $5 pizza place I visit on a semi-daily basis.
3. Properly install my air conditioner.
I'm not a doctor, but I'm pretty sure window air conditioners aren't supposed to gingerly rest upon your dad's 1987 stereo speaker and a baseball card album. (Don't believe me? Click me.) Now I'm about three weeks from needing to take it down. Luckily, all it'll take to disconnect is a gentle breeze.
4. Not recognize Tom DeLonge at Warped Tour and accidentally talk bad about pop-punk in front of him.
Wait. I actually did that one. Check.
(He's a lot more rotund than he used to be.)
5. Figure out how to use my camera.
Seriously. That's a picture of shoes. There wasn't exactly a lot of action going on in that shot. It took me 42 tries just to get it this in focus.
6. Stop wrapping up blogs in predictable, self-referential ways.
Sadly, I don't think this one will ever get accomplished.
