Rock Madness

The union of music and sports is often imperfect. And in some cases, it is downright ugly. (See: Every Super Bowl halftime show ever, any NBA player turned rapper, and every time I've so much as whispered "Red Sox" on this very blog.)

Part of the issue is that the fundamental cores of each pursuit are diametrically opposed. On a large scale, yes, they are both essentially forms of entertainment. But music is — ideally, at least — rooted in some degree of artistic expression, of intellectual or emotional creation. Conversely, sports are designed around competition, proving physical superiority at the expense of an opponent. 

Combined with a host of other social and cultural roadblocks, meshing sports and music presents a unique, and often insurmountable challenge. Aside from montages in sports movies and the occasional battle of the bands, they just don't fit. But that doesn't mean it's not fun to try.

With March Madness soon to get under way, ESPN Radio host Colin Cowherd has applied the college basketball tourney's bracket system to rock and roll, in an attempt to decide just who is the greatest rock band of all time. It's totally silly. However, while not without flaws, it's actually pretty entertaining.

For the non-sports inclined, here's the gist. 64 prominent bands, roughly spanning the history of rock, are separated into four groups — or, in NCAA tourney lingo, "regions." The bands in each grouping are ranked, 1-16, and then pitted against one another, highest seeds vs. lowest seeds. Winners are determined by fan voting, with the victorious groups moving on to the second round, then a "Sweet 16," "Elite 8," "Final 4" (consisting of the overall winners from each region) and eventually, a championship match.

The highest seeds are rock icons — think the Beatles, the Stones, etc. The mid-to-lower seeds are well known, commerically successful bands that, while perhaps not legendary, have (mostly) left some kind of significant imprint on popular music over the last 50 years. Particularly given the target audience — sports fans first, rock fans second — ESPN did a decent job of selecting and ranking bands. I would have likely come up with a slightly different group. (311 and Nickelback made the tourney and the Beach Boys didn't? U2 as a 1-seed? Seriously?) But whatever. Its close enough for jazz. Or for rock on a sports site.

The matchups between top seeds and bottom seeds are pretty much obvious blowouts — the Stones vs. Blink 182, Zep vs. Creed, etc. Where things get interesting are the middle brackets. Just like in the real tournament, the best chances for upsets are found in the 5-12, 6-11, 7-10 range, where the gap in talent, or at least rock iconography is narrower. Here we find some interesting hypothetical debates. For instance:

Seattle regional: 8-seed Motley Crue vs. 9-seed Weezer.

Based solely on personal taste, I'd vote Weezer 99 out of 100 times — the one exception being if I'm drunk at a bowling alley. But taking their careers as a whole into account, the Crue might actually have an edge. Weezer made two-and-half great albums, and a slew of dreck since. But do two transcendant records (The Blue Album, Pinkerton) beat the Crue's more consistent, but never particularly "great" output? Hard to say. Ultimately, it comes down to which is less wussy: Buddy Holly glasses and cardigans vs. feathered hair and tights. 

London regional: 6-seed Red Hot Chili Peppers vs. 11-seed Black Sabbath

On the surface, it looks like someone should be shot, or at least fired for this seeding. Boil it down, and we're essentially talking Ozzy (OK, and Ronnie James Dio) vs. Anthony Kiedis. It's Ozzy and Dio, and it's not close. But again, taking the scope of each band's career into account, the Chili Peppers are still relevant — at least where modern commerical rock is concerned — and have been through three decades. And it would be a mistake to overlook the contributions of Flea here. Meanwhile, Ozzy is making 4G commericals with Justin Bieber. Still, we're talking about Sabbath, one of the most important metal bands in history. This game is reasonably close in the first half. Then Sabbath pulls away in the second when Ozzy alley-oops Kiedis' severed head on a nice feed from Geezer Butler.

Cleveland regional: 6-seed Bob Marley & the Wailers vs. 11-seed the Beastie Boys 

Probably my favorite matchup, and one I really struggled with. But it calls into question how we define greatness. Marley is an icon, arguably more synonymous with his genre than any other artist, in any genre in history. On the other hand, I personally just prefer listening to the Beastie Boys. It may sound like blasphemy, but you can make a case that the quality and, perhaps more importantly, the sheer volume of the Beasties' contributions to pop music cumulatively approach those of Marley. At the very least, it isn't as lopsided a match as it might initially seem. Still, much like you wouldn't bet against Jordan or Bird in a big game, you gotta go with the legend. That's Marley.

Cleveland regional: 5-seed Phish vs. 10-seed the Ramones 

Another interesting debate, especially 'round here. I voted for the Ramones, but it wasn't as easy a decision as regular readers probably assume. Phish, no question, are a historically great band. But then, so are the Ramones. The tie-breaker for me wasn't personal preference, but whose historical significance was greater. Phish elevated the game, but will always be viewed as Clyde Drexler to the Dead's Jordan. The Ramones changed the game forever, altering the landscape of rock in way Phish, wile probably more "successful," never did. To hack the basketball metaphor even further, the Ramones would be like Dr. J, a revolutionary player who changed people's perceptions of how basketball could be played. Plus, in a sporting situation, I'll take aggressive vices like booze, coke and cigarettes over weed and hallucinogens any day.

I could go on with stuff for hours. But maybe I should cut to the chase and let y'all decide for yourselves. Here's the link. Feel free to debate in the comments. And go Def Leppard!

 

 

Signore e Signori … Maryse Smith!

On the heels of last week's post suggesting song placement in TV commercials is supplanting radio play as the way new bands are broken to mass audiences, this spot featuring local songwriter Maryse Smith singing the Beatles' "Hello Goodbye" for a Telecom Italia commercial comes at a weirdly appropriate time. If my theory holds true, clearly Smith is about to be HUGE in Europe.

How'd it happen? Apparently, Guster's Ryan MIller, who does this sorta thing in his free time, called Higher Ground's Alex Crothers looking for suggestions when he discovered TI was searching for a female vocalist for the spot. Crothers mentioned Smith, who promptly recorded a version with Miller, and bada bing bada boom, Maryse Smith is an Italian superstar. She even beat out an actual Italian band for the honor. Neat. 

Here's the commercial. And complementi, Maryse!

 

We've Secretly Replaced Split Tongue Crow With …

There's a theory circulating among culture pundit that the way bands become commercially successful these days is no longer via radio play or touring, but ad placements. There's some truth to the idea. Turn on the tube and wait for a commercial break, and you're bound to hear a hot new indie band or two being used to plug a Kia or Target superstore. In fact, music from every act nominated for a Grammy in the "Best Alternative Rock Album" category appeared in a commercial hawking something in 2010. 

Typically, ad folks will pull just a catchy tune from a band's catalog to suit their Don Draper-esque needs. But what if companies commissioned bands specifically to write, or rework an existing jingle?

Coffee giant Folgers recently put out a call for musicians to rework their well-known jingle for a chance at $25K and an appearance in a Folgers commercial. Rutland indie-folk outfit Split Tongue Crow answered the bell. Here's their entry:

  

Oh Snap

In my column last week, I left you with a riddle: "What is red and white — like really, really white — has 16 arms and loves you?"

This week, I promised I would share the answer here on the blog today, as revealing said answer in print would violate the only real rule my eds have ever given me: not writing about projects with which I am involved … in the paper. Due to the wonders of Facebook, and the general closeness of life in a small community like Burlington, this almost feels anti-climactic. It seems there's already a decent buzz around the event in question. But a promise is a promise. So without further ado …

Q: What is red and white, has 16 arms and loves you?

A: The Ginger Snaps.

(smattering of applause and confused murmuring)

For more on this developing story, let's bust out an old-school FAQ, shall we?

Q: Um, OK. So, who, or what the hell are the Ginger Snaps?

A: So glad you asked! The Ginger Snaps are VTs finest/only all-redhead all-star band. They're playing their one and only show this Monday, Valentine's Day, at Club Metronome with Kyle the Rider and the Human Canvas.

Q: Wait … really?

A: Yes.

Q: All redheads? Are there really enough of you to make up a whole band? 

A: And then some. Though finding a drummer proved tricky.

Q: So, if you're involved, does that mean we've drastically lowered the bar on just what exactly qualifies as an "all-star"?

A: Probably. I'm undoubtedly the weakest link. But the only reason I'm mentioning this at all is because the caliber of the rest of the band is pretty noteworthy. When you get people like Bob Wagner, Swale's Amanda Gustafson and Jeremy Fredericks, Heloise and the Savoir Faire's Rob O' Dea and That Toga Band's Tyler Minetti all on the same stage, cool stuff is bound to happen. Plus, we've got a pair of killer backing dancer/vocalists in Trena Isley and Myesha Gosselin. Next to those cats, my only real qualification for being in the group are my raven tresses. 

Q: Hold on a sec. O' Dea is bald, and Fredericks ain't a redhead.

A: That's not really a question, but I'll enlighten you anyway. Both O'Dea and Fredericks were gingers as kids. We have photographic proof. Once a ginger, always a ginger.

Q: Fair enough. So are you guys just doing Willie Nelson and Rick Astley covers?

A: Not at all! We actually have a set of about 12 original tunes, written by gingers, for gingers. Some titles include "Everybody Knows the Beach Fucking Sucks," "Does the Carpet Match the Drapes," "Little Red Haired Girl," "Fetish" and "Sunblock Cockblock." We'll also probably toss in a love song or three to satisfy Cupid's bloodlust.

Q: Hey, Neko Case is a redhead, right?

A: Sigh …

Q: This is wacky. Who's dumb idea was this?

A: That's open to debate. Though the specific origins are unclear, what is known is that the idea developed between Bob Wagner and myself over way too many beers at Radio Bean last fall. Max Schwartz, late of the Jazz Guys, is rumored to have been an instigator as well. I maintain it was all Bob's fault, er, idea.

Q: $1000 question: Are you guys any good?

A: We'll see. At the very least, it'll be an interesting show. Plus, there is the very real possibility that this gig will be our collective undoing in Burlington. Do you really want to miss that? 

Q: Last question: What is the preferred nomenclature here? I mean, is it OK to use the term "ginger"?

A: Great question. Let's ask Tim Minchin:

 

Good 'n' Plenty

The ever-industrious lads at Angioplasty Media continue to expand their growing empire of awesome with the announcement that they are now getting into the label biz. Their first project is the latest from local indie duo Parmaga — whose tumblr page is pretty hilarious — the Ryan Power-produced Ghost Pops EP. The EP hits shelves on 3/18. In the meantime, here's a sweet little pre-released cut from the disc, "Plenty Hands" that you can download for free at the band's website. Enjoy!

 

Plenty Hands

 

"Pastor" by Joshua Panda

Note to self: don't have dinner at Bob Wagner's house — or, for that matter, mess around with his, erm, "lovely" daughter. 

 

You're the Best Around. Or, Smokin' Poll

Nothing rewards the tireless labors of love put forth by struggling musicians like subjecting their deeply personal art to the rigors of competition. Or in other words, the reader poll. For how else would one divine which band is "the best" in any given field from among the flood of musicians vying for our auditory headspace? Aside from, you know, actually listening to them, of course. But I digress.

Our friends over at the Deli New England have just such a reader poll on their website, designed to figger out, once-and-for-all-or-at-least-until-the-next-poll, just who, exactly, is the "Best Emerging New England Artist." The poll, which closes today, comprises a lengthy list of Yankee bands both relatively unknown and of wider acclaim. It also includes a fair number of VT acts: Villanelles, Rough Francis, Blue Button, Spirit Animal and Butterfly Starpower, among others.

Reader polls, generally speaking, are harmless enough. They don't really mean all that much beyond the victorious band being able to pad their press sheet with some snappy accolade. It's like high school superlatives for grownups. If Blue Button or Villanelles aren't named "Most Likely to Succeed" or "Most Likely to Marry Their High School Sweetheart," I doubt Jason Cooley or Tristan Baribeau will lose much sleep over it. (Eric Olsen on the other hand …)

My only real problem with this kind of electoral folly is that it tends to reflect less how a band is perceived by the local listening public at large than said band's campaigning prowess. For example, the leading vote-getters of DeliNE's current poll are Brothers McCann, a Boston-based roots-pop outfit with VT ties (they'll be at Red Square this Friday), and the Wandas, also Boston-based. As of this writing, the groups have tallied 1044 and 940 votes, respectively. Or, a whopping 46% of the total votes cast. The next closest band is Wally Sickert and the Army of Broken Toys (great name), followed closely by our own Blue Button, with 449 (10%) and 395 (9%) votes, respectively.

Are the McCanns and Wandas really that much more beloved in New England than the other nominated acts? Probably not. But they might be savvier than most. Both groups have links to the voting site prominently displayed on their web pages and have pimped the contest via other social media outlets (Facebook, Twitter, etc.), making it easier for their fans to stuff the ballot box. In other words, they were more effective at motivating their bases than their peers. I don't mean to take anything away from whichever band wins — they're both polished acts, and a crafty marketing sense is important for working bands — but it seems a rather hollow victory when the results feel predicated less on sheer musical ability than PR acumen.  

A Protopunk Guide to the Queen City

Rough Francis recently gave the folks at Fuel.TV a quickie tour of Burlington, highlighting their favorite haunts in and around the Queen City for a show called "Green Label Experience." Among the destinations were Nectar's, Manhattan Pizza, Radio Bean and, no surprise here, the Monkey House. Word is the band has a new release in the works that they hope to unveil this spring. In the meantime, here are the brothers Hackney getting all Lonely Planet, Burlington-style.

 

Vacant Stares

The Vacant Lots are scoring some love around the Interwebs on the strength of their newly released Confusion 7-inch. I suppose that'll happen when you spend the summer touring with Sonic Boom's Spectrum, and then sign to a killer label (Mexican Summer). 

Following a Pitchfork Forkcast blurb earlier this month, today Pitchfork's sister site Altered Zones dug a bit deeper with some high praise for the local psych-duo as well as an MP3 of the vinyl single's B-Side, "Cadillac." Check it out. 

 

Splitting Aces

If you've read this week's edition, you know I'm rather enamored with the debut offering from Rutland's Split Tongue Crow. Essentially a revived version of late Queen City outfit Will — minus Connor McQuade, plus vocalist Cara White — STC picks up where that band left off a few years ago, boasting clean, twangy hooks and gorgeous vocal harmonies. STC are touch more subdued, veering more toward melancholy indie-folk than their rowdier alt-country predecessor. But they are also far more polished and refined. I dig it.

The band has a string of loccal dates coming up, starting with this Saturday's gig at the Shelburne Steakhouse and Saloon. (Yes, really.) In the meantime, here's a clip of Split Tongue Crow's "Horizons," from their newly released self-titled debut. Enjoy.

 

 

Discomfort Level

I'm still on a bit of standup comedy kick from Saturday's Higher Ground Comedy Battle. So here is a clip of Battle finalist Colin Ryan from a performance in November. This bit is a lengthier version of some material he performed at the battle this weekend.

 

And the Winner Is …

Hey, folks.

I had a great time judging the seventh annual Higher Ground Comedy Battle this past Saturday. I'll get into the nitty gritties in Wednesday's column. But long story short, I came away more impressed with caliber of our local standups than ever before. If it wasn't already, VT standup is legit. 

The winner of the battle was veteran standup and co-founder of the Vermont Comedy Club, Nathan Hartswick. Dude was on his game, taking the crown in the most closely contested final in memory. My ballot had first and fifth place separated by about four points — out of a possible perfect score of 30. It was close, and I wouldn't have had a problem with any of the finalists winning. Hartswick certainly deserved to win, but keep an eye out for Colin Ryan and Carmen Lagala as well. They both killed.

Congrats to Nathan and all of the comics who performed. It was truly a banner night for local comedy.

 

Bring it, Cape Cod: The Black Keys vs. Vampire Weekend

I have been waiting at least two years for someone to kick the crap out of Vampire Weekend. Finally, the Black Keys have obliged.

It's Grammy season. If you were unaware of this fact, it's most likely because the brain trust that bestows the awards, the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences, has grown comically irrelevant and out of touch. Still, someone has to choose who gets those shiny little gramophones each year. Might as well be someone like Stephen Colbert, right?

Last night, the host of "The Colbert Report" — and bonafide Grammy award winner — attempted to designate a champ for the "Best Alternative Music Album." Outlining the category's parameters, Colbert explained, "For the squares out there, 'alternative' refers to the under-the-radar, independent music that edgy, anti-establishment types can buy at Starbucks." 

Colbert immediately dispatched with three of the five nominees: Band of Horses (Colbert prefers a band of humans); Broken Bells ("Get back to me when you fix your bells"); and Arcade Fire ("Those guys were on 'The Daily Show.' Fuck 'em.") That left two contestants, Vampire Weekend and the Black Keys.

Colbert suggested that a Grammy award is really more a tip of the hat for commercial success than a celebration of artistic achievement. But given slipping album sales in the midst of the industry's general decline, it's becoming trickier and trickier to designate any one one band's music as "the best" based solely on units moved. Colbert's solution: grant Grammys based on literal "commercial" success.

What followed was a "sell-out off" between the Black Keys and Vampire Weekend to determine which band had the best placement in TV commercials in 2010. It's hilarious. It's biting satire. And it ends with a good, old-fashioned street fight. Enjoy.

 

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
MeTunes - Grammy Vote - Dan Auerbach, Patrick Carney & Ezra Koenig<a>
www.colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog</a> Video Archive

 

Battle Stations!

This just in from Middlebury:

American Flatbread, 51 Main and Two Brothers Tavern are joining forces to host a monster Battle of the Bands in early April. The opening round of the town-wide showdown begins Thursday, March 31 and runs through Saturday, April 2. Bands selected to compete will each perform once on one of the three nights. Winners from each evening's rocking will advance to the final round, to be held Saturday, April 9, at which point they will fight to death, er, rock out for the right to be named the opening act at Middlebury College's annual Spring Concert. Middlebury's Student Activities Board has yet to announce this year's headliner, but it's a safe bet it will be kind of a big deal. Past performers have included the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Cake, Wyclef Jean and … Naughty By Nature? Really? Wow. Midd kids, apparently, are down with O.P.P. 

If you, or your friend's band that is really-really-awesome-and-ohmigod-you've-just-gotta-hear-them would like to compete, applications can be submitted at middbattlebands.com. But hurry. Applications are due by Wednesday, February 2.

The early favorite to win it all? Wyld Stallyns!

 

Sara Grace & the Suits: Requited

Perhaps you've noticed, but there was not a new edition of Seven Days stuffed into area newsstands this week. As we do each year, the last issue of 2010 was a double issue, covering both this week and last. (Though if you're jonesing for your "Free Will Astrology" fix, you can catch this week's forecast on the 7D site — the stars, of course, don't take vacations.)

Much to our collective chagrin here at "Vermont's Independent Voice," just because we stop working for ten days doesn't mean you folks stop making news. Or in the case of my particular bailiwick, music. So I would be remiss if I failed to bring to your attention Requited, the brilliant new record from Sara Grace & the Suits, which will be released this Saturday at Burlington's FlynnSpace. Enjoy. [DB]

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Sara Grace & the Suits, Requited

(Self-released, CD)

Vermonters didn't have to wait long for a great local release in 2011. For years a well-kept secret of central VT music fans, Montpelier-based roots-soul collective Sara Grace & the Suits are set to unveil their hotly anticipated debut album, Requited. Richly orchestrated, imaginatively crafted and expertly executed, the record is a tour de force, revealing the explosive talents of a dynamic local songwriter and serving as a declaration that there may well be more than one Grace to watch for in the Green Mountains.

As its title suggests, Requited is a meditation on finding and then somehow keeping love. The lead track, "Angel," adresses the former with simmering intensity. Asa Brosius' steel lines lap against Ray Paczkowski's organ trills, while a gentle acoustic guitar bobs along in the eddying current. Grace is subdued but compelling as she introduces us to her title character.

"An angel fell from the sky and slipped me a key. / I know she's not mine, not meant for me," she sings, a barely perceptible quiver lacing her delivery. But the promise of love is that even amid despair there is hope. She closes the verse singing, "I need it all, so open the door," as if imploring the chorus of exultant horns that follows to deliver her from self-doubt.

After the ornate arrangements on both "Angel," and the following track, "The Tide," "Behind Shadows" feels bare by comparison. Though the song features a leaner assortment of players, it is nonetheless a deeply nuanced composition. In addition to her veteran backing band, the Suits, Grace has enlisted a wide assortment of guest stars — including vocalist Miriam Bernardo on the lead cut. Here, Anaïs Mitchell's uniquely skinny timbre provides a steely counter to Grace's rich, somber delivery.

Grace was an original cast member in the theatrical productions of Mitchell's folk opera "Hadestown," the star-studded studio recording of which catapulted Vermont's Righteous Babe to international acclaim. Not surprisingly, Grace seems to have taken a few cues from the experience. In particular, her ear for sly, subversive arrangement bears resemblance to that of the opera's aesthetic architect, Michael Chorney, who appears on the record numerous times on baritone sax. The multi-instrumentalist and composer rounds out an impressive horn section that also features trumpeter Brian Boyce, tenor saxophonist Terry Youk and trombone prodigy Andrew Moroz, who, with Grace, co-wrote the album's striking horn arrangements.

From start to finish, Grace proves a sturdy, if direct songwriter. But what sets her apart, what makes her special, is discipline. Rarely are her wounded musings overwrought, and rarely are her more joyful moments — fleeting though they may be — earnest or cloying. Similarly, though she is quite obviously capable of jaw-dropping vocal acrobatics, she is judicious in the deployment of her considerable ability. She teases and flirts, favoring measured cool over inflated histrionics. Of course, that tantalizing tension only makes the eventual release more satisfying, as on the scintillating album closer, "Woman Sweet Woman," which burns and bends with smoldering blues fire as Grace finally indulges her elite chops. Requited, indeed.

Sara Grace & the Suits — and a slew of special guests … wink wink — celebrate the release of Requited this Saturday at the FlynnSpace, 8 p.m. $15.

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01 Angel

03 Behind Shadows

 

A Few of My Favorite Things 2010: Randomness!

Happy 2011, Solid State! I trust everyone had a safe and fun New Year's Eve.

In the hubbub leading up to the last day of the year, I plumb ran out of time to finish off my 2010 ramblings last week. (2011 Resolution #1: find a way to squeeze a few more hours out of each day. There's gotta be a way.) So before we kick 2011 into high gear, I thought I'd take the opportunity to pass along a few more random favorites from the year that was. Only this time, we're expanding our gaze beyond music and looking at some stuff beyond the typical Solid State bailiwick. So without further ado, randomness!

Standup Comedy: Mike Birbiglia

You've perhaps heard Birbiglia as a semi-regular contributor on Ira Glass' radio show/podcast, "This American Life." That's certainly how I was first introduced. But over the last year or so, he's quite possibly become my favorite standup comic. His latest album, My Secret Public Journal — he also writes a blog of the same name — was easily among my most listened to albums in 2010. Not just comedy albums, mind you. Albums, period. I gave my sister his new book, "Sleepwalk With Me," for Christmas, and then read the whole thing, cover to cover on Christmas Day. More storyteller than jokester or satirist, Birbiglia has a rare gift for exposing the subtle absurdities of his own life in a way that connects almost universally — or at least to awkward, self-deprecating white guys from New England … ahem. Anyway, dude is hilarious. Here's a clip from his most recent comedy special. And by the way, he's performing in Montreal this weekend.

    

Movies: Scott Pilgrim vs. the World

Is it just me, or was 2010 kind of weak year for film? There were very few flicks that really stood out to me over the last 12 months — though I have yet to see the Coen Brothers' take on "True Grit." I have high hopes for that one. 

"Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World" seemed to fly under most moviegoers' radars, which is a shame. Witty, creative and a must for anyone who grew up playing video games in the 1980s and 1990s, it was easily my favorite flick of 2010. Maybe not the "best," per se. But I loved it.

The film centers on Pilgrim (Michael Cera playing, um, basically the same character Michael Cera always plays), a geeky dude in a bad band who, in the aftermath of a bad breakup — and while stringing a long a high school girlfriend, no less — falls in love with the mysterious Ramona Powers. The thing is, to win Ramona's heart, he must defeat "The League of Evil Exes," a motley collection of Ramona's past seven lovers. In other words, it's kinda like dating in Burlington … hiyo! The battle scenes between Pilgrim and the increasingly bizarre Exes are outlandishly inventive. (The showdown versus Ramona's bass-playing vegan ex-boyfriend Todd is especially satisfying.) And the soundtrack is pretty killer too.

 

Podcasts: The BS Report

I've made no secret of my adoration for ESPN columnist Bill Simmons in these pages. But in 2010, Simmons seriously upped his game. He has always been an entertaining writer and host, but this year he seemed to take a step beyond humorous sports columnist to rising media icon. He had a NYT bestseller ("The Book of Basketball," a mammoth tome, but a great read and surprisingly well argued), produced possibly the most interesting and ambitious series of sports documentaries in history ("30 for 30") and continued churning out great columns week in and week out. 

But his podcast, the BS Report, was really where Simmons shined. The mix of sports musings and cultural analysis was pitch perfect all year long, and his lineup of guests expanded from the usual parade of sports-obsessed buddies (Jack-O, Joe House) and sportswriters (Dan LeBetard, Mike Lombardi) to include some fascinating folks from film, music and media (Chuck Klosterman, Jon Hamm, Seth Myers). Don't let the fact that ESPN cuts his paycheck fool you. There is more to the BS Report than just sports. (OK, there's still a lot of sports. But it's wickedly entertaining, I promise.) When I grow up, I want to be Bill Simmons.

Books: Anything by Tom Franklin

2010 was the year I discovered Tom Franklin. I devoured two of his early novels — the gritty "Hell at the Breech," and the astounding, impossibly violent "Smonk" — before turning my attention to a beautiful collection of short stories, "Poachers," over my recent winter break. Fans of local author Creston Lea would particularly enjoy the last. The Southerner writes in a vein very similar to Lea's "Northern Gothic" style. Franklin possess a keen eye for the fragility and, in many cases, futility of subject's lives, painting their portraits with equal measures of kindred empathy and cold prejudice. His latest, "Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter," sits perched atop the stack on my nightstand for 2011. 

A Few of My Favorite Things 2010: Sad Songs

I love sad songs. Whether or not I am, in fact, sad in that moment, melancholy music has always struck a chord with me. Most of my all-time favorite records are late night, punch drunk confessionals: Frank Sinatra's In the Wee Small Hours, Tom Waits' Heart of Saturday Night, anything by Otis Redding and pretty much the entirety of country music, etc. There is a certain poetic beauty in sadness, which may be why sad songs usually resonate with me as much as, if not more than their more upbeat counterparts. Or maybe I'm just a sucker for a pretty melody.

This year there were a number of great, mellow, melancholy additions to my stacks. To name but a few: chippy bedroom pop from Belle & Sebastian on Write About Love, swooning art folk on The Head and the Heart's self-titled debut, and an unflinching masterpiece from songwriter Joe Pug, Messenger.

Of course, there are many different types of sad songs. You've got your torch song, your break up song, the fuck you song, the lonely sap song, the clinically depressed song, and so on. Pop music is virtually overloaded with sad sack sentiment. To quote Rob Gordon in High Fidelity, "What came first, the music or the misery? … Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?" Fair questions.

The thing is, not all sad songs are created equally. Because pop is over-saturated by songwriters who seem to think theirs was the first broken heart, the annals of rock and roll are littered with overwrought cliché, terrible, cloying songs that artlessly gnaw at the heartstrings rather than gently tug or assuage. Depressed? Write a song about it! It's a tack followed by far too many marginally talented artists. But who can blame them? To quote Def Leppard, "Love bites."

So what makes a great sad song? I doubt there's an easy answer, if one exists at all. And really, it is entirely subjective. What hits to your core might turn mine queasy. What makes me swoon could very well make you wretch. To paraphrase an old chestnut, beauty is in the ear of the beholder. 

For me, it's usually the melody that hooks first. Throw in a clever turn of phrase or two and I'm yours for the night. Sing it with soul, and my oh my, it could be a lasting love. Then again, sometimes it's none of those things. Sometimes, certain songs or albums just catch you when they're supposed to. Sometimes it's just fate. Two such artists caught me that way this year. Some way, somehow, they entered my life at the precise moment I needed them most.

The first was songwriter Sean Hayes. His 2010 album, Run Wolves Run, is a gorgeously crafted, unchained treatise on love and life, and among my favorites this year. But that album wasn't what first turned me on to Hayes. Rather, it was one of his older songs, "Fucked Me Right Up," that, well … you know. There is a raw, visceral hurt in Hayes' vulnerable delivery that deepens his otherwise simplistic lyrics. The song barely has two verses, but by the time he bids us "good bye" again and again at the song's conclusion, you feel what he feels in no uncertain terms. It's chilling.

Here's a live version of the song from a house concert. It's a little rough around the edges, which I kind of prefer. The ragged quality suits the song. But if you'd like to hear the cleaner album version, click here.

 

This next artist writes great sad songs too, but in an entirely different way, which you could likely surmise simply from his name, Sad Brad Smith. Some might be familiar with Smith from his single, "Help Yourself," which was featured in the recent movie, Up in the Air. I've actually never seen that flick, or heard the song. But Smith's full-length debut, Love is Not What You Need, has rarely left my iPod since it came out this fall.

Smith's approach to melancholy is tongue-in-cheek whimsy. He revels in wallowing. He writes clever, heartfelt songs that both tease and admire the peculiar conundrum of the superficially depressed. Ever have that friend who is only truly happy when he or she is unhappy? Love is that friend's personal soundtrack. Or maybe the record Charlie Brown would have written if he grew up to be a singer-songwriter. 

Here is live clip of Smith performing a song from Love, a typically overly underwrought charmer called "I'm So Sad." Enjoy. Or, um … don't, depending. And tune in tomorrow when we cheer the fuck up.

 

 

A Few of My Favorite Things 2010: Spoon

Today's installment of my personal 2010 "Best Of" non-local music series features Spoon, a band that I doubt regular readers — both of them — will be surprised to find planted firmly among my garden of year-end treats. For one thing, they're a, ahem, perennial favorite, and for my meager money, the best rock band working in the US today. Yes, really. For another, I was practically orgasmic when their 2010 album, Transference, came out early this year. And for yet another, when I grow up, I want to be Britt Daniel.

In some ways, Transference delved even deeper into the "less-is-more" idea explored on their previous album Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga. The songs here strip superficial pop constructs like paint thinner. While so much of indie-rock moves toward high-fructose ear candy and uses glo-fi glitter to mask inferior chops and writing, Spoon continue to chip away at rock's facade, exposing the raw, bloodied nerve endings at the core of their music. Or something.

I had the chance to catch Spoon live in Boston earlier this year. As I wrote at the time, it was the best show I never saw. Unfortunately, due to my poor vantage point on the Mezzanine level at the House of Blues, I had to watch the show on a projection screen, which was of course just a split second behind the live sound. Frustrating. Eventually, my compatriots and I resigned ourselves to hanging by a satellite bar, enjoying the concert armed with but our ears and few rounds of Narragansett tall boys — that's PBR, southern New England style. Ask your dad.

Even without the benefit of good — or any — sight lines, it was among my favorite concerts of the year. The sound at HOB is unparalleled. I've rarely ever heard sound mixed so well or presented so clearly. And Spoon are as dynamic and interesting live as they are on record, which is truly saying something. If you have the chance to see them, pay special attention to bassist Rob Pope and drummer Jim Eno. As remarkable as Daniel's songwriting is, Spoon would not be the same without their inventive interplay.

Anyway, here are a couple of Spoon clips. The first is the official Merge  Records video for "Written in Reverse," from Transference. The second is Daniel performing "I Summon You"  from Gimme Fiction, solo acoustic in the back of a taxi cab. And by the way, Spoon has a collection of outtakes from 2008-2009 called Bonus Tracks — clever, no? — available for download on their website. It ain't free, but it's cheap and certainly interesting as a companion to their work over the last few years. Enjoy.

 

 

 

 

 

A Few of My Favorite Things 2010: Jeremy Messersmith

A belated happy holidays, Solid State. I trust everyone is safe and warm somewhere as the weather howls past my picture window. Baby, it's cold outside. Anyway …

With Christmas unwrapped and the new year just around the corner, 'tis the season for music pundits such as myself to don their robes of self-importance and enlighten the masses with picks for the best music they've heard in the year that was.

[Little known secret: said robes are handed out when you accept any music crit job and kind of look like Roman philosopher's robes, but with punk rock patches sloppily hand-sewn about them. True story.]

With regard to the best local music of 2010, this Wednesday's paper will offer a glimpse into my thoughts and ramblings, as well as my picks for the top ten VT-made albums of the year. But man cannot live on localvore tunage alone. So this week, I'll be serving up some of the music that made me swoon, laugh, cry, rock the eff out or otherwise just got a kick out of in the past 12 months. Most of it was released this year. Some of it wasn't, but managed to find its way to me in 2010. You've probably heard of much of it, might not have heard of some of it, but I'm hoping you'll find something in the mix you'll enjoy either way.

First up, Minneapolis-based songwriter Jeremy Messersmith. He kinda looks like Buddy Holly (ooh-wee-ooh!), sings a bit like Paul Simon, and has a gift for irresistible pop hooks that will leave you whistling for days. Or in my case, most of the year.

My much cooler-than-me kid sister, Ari, actually knows the guy and introduced me to his music last year. But I didn't really pay attention to him until he released his 2010 album, The Reluctant Graveyard, this spring. That thing never left my iPod, was a staple on most of my summer mixes and served me well through an unusual fall. It's the kind of record that sneaks up on you, even if you love it immediately as I did. Nearly every time I put it on, I discover something new within Messersmith's deceptively simple pop that gives me a heightened appreciation for his work.

Below are videos for two of my favorite cuts from that record. The first is a sweetly chilling ballad, "A Girl, a Boy, and a Graveyard," that feels appropriate given this bleak midwinter day. The second is the album's lead track, "Lazybones," featuring what may be my favorite single hook of the year. I triple dog dare you to get its jangly genius out of your head before 2011. And if you can't, The Reluctant Graveyard and all the rest of Messersmith's music is available through his website as pay-what-you-want downloads.

  

 

Free at Last

Earlier this year, I wrote a mildly tongue-in-cheek open letter to Vermont's senior Senator, Patrick Leahy, urging him to "hotline" the Local Community Radio Act, a bill he originally co-sponsored with Sen. Maria Cantwell (D-WA) and Sen John McCain (R-AZ), among others. To refresh your memory, the bill would ease adjacency restrictions on the FM dial and allow a greater number of low power FM stations (think 105.9 FM WOMM-LP the Radiator) to operate. Theoretically, this means more variety and localism on an increasingly bland, homogenized spectrum, more community involvement in what is broadcast on our public airwaves (they're all public, BTW) and, well, hunky dory, warm fuzzy feelings all around. 

A few days after that piece ran, Senator Leahy actually called me back. After I got over the initial shock of speaking to one of the most powerful men in the country, we settled into a legitimate discussion on the merits of the LCRA legislation, the hurdles the bill has faced along the way and why it had yet to pass — it was proposed in 2005. Asked for his take on the bill's fate at the end of our conversation, Leahy said, in no uncertain terms, "It will pass. Soon." 

It turns out he was right. Saturday, the bill finally passed the Senate, and unanimously at that. It easily passed the House of Representatives earlier this year. 

In press release sent from his office yesterday, Leahy says, “By using low power stations, community groups can access underutilized spectrum and provide content tailored to smaller communities.” He continues, saying, “This legislation is important because LPFM stations provide opportunities for local organizations to serve local communities. Vermont has LPFM stations serving local communities in Vermont from Hyde Park to Brattleboro to Warren. There is room for more.”

Pending the signature of President Obama, local airwaves could indeed see more LPFMs in communities all over the state. Christmas miracle?