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!

 

 

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. 

John Lennon and … Howard Cosell?

Maybe you've heard, but December 8 marks the thirtieth anniversary of the day John Lennon was murdered. Obviously, there are tributes almost anywhere you look today — including a Lennon tribute night at Parima this evening with Aaron Flinn, Joshua Glass and Scott Mangan, FYI. And with good reason. You'd be hard pressed to name any single artist whose impact on the landscape of pop music and culture was as profound.

But few folks remember that news of Lennon's death was first broken not by a news icon such as Walter Cronkite or Ted Koppel, but by, of all people, legendary sportscaster Howard Cosell during a Monday Night Football broadcast. (I don't remember it either. I was two at the time.) Cosell learned of the news at the end of a game between the New England Patriots and Miami Dolphins. And were it left up to him, he might not have passed it along as the game was tied with 13 seconds remaining setting the stage for a potential winning field goal. Fortunately, a younger, hipper Frank Gifford understood the gravity of the situation and persuaded Cosell otherwise.

Below is a behind the scenes clip from ESPN in which Gifford convinces Cosell that Lennon's death is kind of a big deal. And here is a link to Cosell's delivery of the news.

 

 

 

 

Tuesday Link Dump: The Best Show I Never Saw

Word to the wise, if you ever check out a show at the new House of Blues (formerly Avalon) on Lansdowne Street in Boston, don't buy tickets for the Mezzanine. The mammoth nightclub's second floor balcony wraps around the sides and rear of room but has seriously limited sight lines. Unless you are among the first, say, fifty or so people there lucky enough to get a spot along the railing, there is literally no vantage point to actually, y'know, see the show.

So it was that I experienced Spoon at HOB this past Saturday, alternately trying to hop above the four and five deep rows of almost comically tall people in front of me for a glimpse of the stage, and craning my neck at a projection screen simulcasting the concert that was just delayed enough to be annoying. It was sort of like watching a Red Sox home game on TV at the Cask and Flagon, the famed Lansdowne Street bar that is literally twenty feet from Fenway Park — if you've never done this, imagine hearing a David Ortiz home run thirty seconds before you see it. I'm exagerrating a bit. But you get the idea. Thank God for the surprisingly reasonable Narragansett tall boys. And the sound. Good lord, the sound.

I honestly can't remember the last time I saw, er, heard a show with sound so crystalline and balanced. I've long thought that Spoon's Jim Eno (drums) and Rob Pope (bass) form rock and roll's coolest rhythm section. But I have a profound new appreciation for their work having heard them like that. It was electrifying. The same goes for keyboardist/percussionist Ed Harvey. As for lead singer Britt Daniel? Well, I still want to be him when I grow up. All in all, it was the best show I never saw.

*******

Speaking of Britt Daniel, did you know that he used to be this guy?

And speaking of assumed names, Stephen King's kid might just be, well, the next Stephen King. Or would that be the next Richard Bachman?

Are you a local musician wondering how Obamacare will affect you? Our old friend Casey Rae-Hunter at the Future of Music Coalition is here to help.

Your pledge dollars at work! NPR currently has Dr. Dog's new album, Shame, Shame — the band's first for Anti- — available for your perusal here. The record hits shelves, real and electronic, on April 6. And here's an interview I did with bassist Toby Leaman about the record in January.

Finally! The guy responsible for Battlefield Earth apologizes.

The old gray lady of rock ’n’ roll rags, Rolling Stone, unveils its list of "Best New Bands of 2010" this Thursday. Chief among them are none other than our own Grace Potter and the Nocturnals, who got their start in, um, 2002. Nice that someone is finally paying attention to them. (BTW, it's just a coincidence that Thursday is April Fools Day, right?) Anyway, here's a new video for "Tiny Songs," from their forthcoming self-titled album, which is scheduled for release on June 6.

Last but not least, the Montreal Jazz Fest has just announced another slew of concerts for this year's edition. They have also apparently adjusted the scope of the term "jazz" to include the likes of Andrew Bird, Lou Reed, Lionel Ritchie and Steve Miller. On a related note, the Burlington Discover Jazz Fest now has a Twitter feed where they are soliciting suggestions for this year's lineup. I mean seriously, who wouldn't want to see Lionel Ritchie at the Flynn? 

Tuesday Link Dump

It's Tuesday morning, it's bright and sunny outside and I'm stuck inside waiting for a repairman to show up. Sounds like a recipe for a link dump.

Today marks two months to the day since I quit smoking. Here's yet another reason why I'm glad I did.

I can't remember the last time I read the Sunday comics. I'm guessing it would be the last time I read a physical daily newspaper … on a Sunday … that had comics. Anyway, this past Sunday, local harmonica player Mark Lavoie snuck his way into this week's full color installment of Hi & Lois. I was always more of a Bloom County/Outland guy, myself. But this is pretty neat. In the strip, Ditto thinks he has the "Annoying Sister Blues" so he learns to play his brother Chip's harmonica by listening to old blues records — including one by Lavoie. By the way, you can catch Mark at 51 Main in Middlebury this Thursday.

Pitchfork Media is looking for interns in Brooklyn.

Came across this funny Wikipedia entry for "Music of Vermont" while reviewing the new Lady Lioness album last week. Gotta love Wikipedia.

This Boston Globe article makes the case for professional tribute bands. My one-word rebuttal: no.

Speaking of tributes, with Rough Francis set to release their debut EP of original songs this Friday, feels like a good time to revisit the story of Death. I think Jeff Howlett would agree.

Pure Pop was burglarized last week. According to police, the suspect is tall, male, white and still listens to CDs.

T-minus 19 days until Opening Day.

And last but not least, my current favorite band that I just discovered yesterday, Larry and His Flask, who will be at 242 Main this Thursday.