My Year In Books

So I read a lot more in 2007 than I have in the past couple of years. Part of this is because I haven't been in school for the calendar year, so I didn't have much requried reading to throw me off. It is also partly because I was more anti-social this year than I have been in awhile. But, as always, I still didn't read enough.

Reading is the ultimate alone-but-still-connected activity. The reader has an intimate and symbiotic relationship with the author. The author has decided the language, the characters, the context, the setting, but only the reader can assign sounds and images and the mental details and judgements which the author left out. In a sense, the author creates a vague set of directions, but it is up to the reader to observe, as she is on the journey and each individual experience will be different and unique. Without the reader, the author wouldn't exist (at least his book contract wouldn't) and without the author, the reader wouldn't get access to such a godly feelings of omniscience that fiction can bring.

A novel may have certain philosophies, the author may assign her characters certain traits and a few clues to the visual appearance of the characters and locations, but it is the reader who takes these fragments and forms them into a cohesive, living world inside their mind. The author may preliminarily set the time frame in which the story begins and ends, but the reader has the last say over the elasticity of the conclusion. If they don't like the book, the reader can smash the cover on the author's world hundreds of pages before the author envisioned his creation's story would end. And even when the book ends, the characters and stories can continue far beyond bounds created by the physicality of a cardboard book cover: I constantly hear Holden Caulfield's caustic cynicism as I journey through the everyday world; Kilgore Trout has been creating fantastical observations and plots in my head, even since Vonnegut has died; Sam Spade has been informing me of how he would react in certain sticky situations.

I'm setting a goal to read 45 books next year, which I can do as long as I manage my time well. I want to include more histories and biographies than I did this year, but fiction is closest to my heart, so I'll see how it goes. I didn't make any goals about reading in 2007, but after compiling the list of what I read (there may be a few I'm not remember just right now), I figured I'd set a number goal for 2008, the ideal is to beat it, but I'll at least meet the mark. I won't be including books assigned by the classes I'll be taking at school.

On the list are a few books I started this year but didn't finish (I usually am reading at least 3 or 4 at a time, sometimes books will escape me and lose them in the shuffle) are Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace, Crossing To Safety by Wallace Stegner, Jay Anthony Lukas' account of class and turn-of-the-20th Century Western United States, Big Trouble, and David McCullogh's John Adams. Also on the list is: David O. McKay and the Rise of Modern Mormonism by Gregory Prince and Robert Wright, The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera, Strong Opinions, a collection of letters, reviews and such by Vladimir Nabokov, In The Arena by Richard M. Nixon, Jonathan Franzen's Strong Motion and Steinbeck's East of Eden, which I started to fall in love with a couple of years back, but was derailed by school a hundred pages into it. Any suggestions for the 2008 list?

Here's the 2007 list of what I read:


Immortality - Milan Kundera

Refuge - Terry Tempest Williams

A Kind of Flying - Ron Carlson

Practical Demon Keeping - Christopher Moore
A Dirty Job - Christopher Moore
The Stupidist Angel - Christopher Moore

Breakfast of Champions - Kurt Vonnegut

The Twenty-Seventh City - Jonathan Franzen

The Tie That Binds - Kent Haruf

No Country For Old Men - Cormac McCarthy
The Road - Cormac McCarthy
The Crossing - Cormac McCarthy

Without Remorse - Tom Clancy

Coronado - Dennis Lehane

The Maltese Falcon - Dashiell Hammett

The March - E.L. Doctorow

On Beauty - Zadie Smith
The Autograph Man - Zadie Smith

Letting Loose The Hounds - Brady Udall

Laughter In The Dark - Vladimir Nabokov

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius - Dave Eggers

The Final Solution - Michael Chabon

One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

No One Belongs Here More Than You - Miranda July

Choke - Chuck Palahniuk

Me Talk Pretty One Day - David Sedaris

The Americanization of Benjamin Franklin - Gordon Wood

Into The Wild - Jon Krakauer

Merry Christmas!

In lieu of writing a long post or digging myself in a deeper theological hole (see previous post) so close to Christmas, I'll give you all the gift of humorist/essayist David Sedaris. "The SantaLand Diaries" put Sedaris on the map after it aired in December, 1992 on NPR's Morning Edition. It is one of my favorite Christmas stories, as it recalls his holiday season as an elf at the SantaLand within the Macy's Department store in New York City. Sedaris is always gold in his writing - very self-deprecating and full of wit and observation - but hearing him perform them in his dry, almost disconnected, subdued manner brings out a magic in his work that just can't be matched when read internally. Hope you all find joy and love this holiday season, that you give as much as you receive. Merry Christmas.


David Sedaris - The SantaLand Diaries


Purchase fine works by David Sedaris from Amazon

Drive-By Truckers - The Mike Cooley Files

2007 ain't quite through yet, but 2008 is bringing a triple dose of good news from one of my favorite bands, Drive-By Truckers, as they are releasing a brand spanking new album Brighter Than Creation's Dark and getting their back catalog released on vinyl and happen to be stopping in Salt Lake for a show on February 20th. I have no idea what or where The Paladium is (must be a new venue, but can I maybe cross my fingers that the old Zephyr Club is re-opening under this name?) but that is where I'll be on that cold winter evening. If you haven't experienced DBT live for their Rock Show, you haven't truly experienced Rock 'N Roll. I'm dead serious.

The Truckers are one of the most criminally under-appreciated bands in America - the only band in the country I can think of that has been producing music at or above their level this decade is Wilco. Much like the Jeff Tweedy & Co. Drive-By Truckers are a truly American experience. I think one of the reasons they are discounted by some is because they are often labeled "southern rock", probably because of their 2001 concept album Southern Rock Opera.
If pressed, I would simply call them Americana - but if you like your rock with a pedal steel and some twang in the electric guitars, this band is definitely for you. The band is down one stellar songwriter in Jason Isbell (playing in at Suede on February 2nd), but they still boast two great ones in Patterson Hood and Mike Cooley (plus Shonna Tucker even takes lead vocals on a few of her songs on the new album!).

I'm gonna end up posting more on DBT in the coming while, so I figured I'd start with a killer mix of my favorite band member, Mike Cooley. His songs are detailed enough to feel personal, yet broadly themed to feel universal and he can turn a line better than almost anyone writing in rock today. Oh, and dude freakin' owns on the kind of guitar licks that make you pump your fist in the air.

Some of my favorite Cooley lines:

"Well, my daddy didn’t pull out, but he never apologized / Rock and Roll means well, but it can’t help tellin’ young boys lies." - from "Marry Me"

"And don't ever let them make you feel like saying what you want is unbecoming / If you were supposed to watch you're mouth all the time I doubt your eyes would be above it." - from "Gravity's Gone"

"You say you're tired of me taking you for granted / Waiting' up till the last minute to call you up and see what you want to do / Well you're only fifteen, girl, you ain't got no secretary / And "for granted" is a mighty big word for a country girl like you." - from "Zip City"

"We've been this close to death before, we were just too drunk to know it / Guess the price of being sobers being scared out of your mind ... Living in fear's just another way of dying before your time." -- from "Shut Up and Get on the Plane"

DBT: The Cooley Files
(pay close attention to "Space City" and "Loaded Gun in the Closet" - the lyrics and musical accompaniment are unbelievably beautiful)

A Ghost to Most
Marry Me (live)
Space City
Guitar Man Upstairs
Women Without Whiskey
Where The Devil Don't Stay
Loaded Gun in the Closet
Gravity's Gone
Zip City
Shut Up and Get on the Plane

MLB's day of reckoning?

The day has come that all baseball fans have been fearing, even if they've been trying to deny it: the league has a massive problem with players using performance-enhancing drugs and it's a widespread issue, not just limited to the few sluggers (Barry Bonds, Rafeal Palmero, Mark McGwire, Jose Canseco) previously fingered. Indeed, the users ranged the positions, even the pitchers got in on it. It's like Curt Schilling once said, it's not like hitters are the only ones doping, wouldn't steroids help you throw harder too?

I've written about it before, but now that George Mitchell's report has been made public, it is an issue that the sport of baseball and all those involved can no longer ignore or try to pin on a few people. Perhaps the most astounding aspect of Mitchell's investigation, is that his information is culled from so few cooperating (under threat of prosecution) sources, but seems so wide in its inclusiveness of players. This likely tells that anabolic steroid and human growth hormone use in baseball are much more prevalent than this report was able to identify. As the cliche goes, it's just the tip of the iceberg.

From the sources in the New York Yankees and New York Mets organizations and what was found through the Bay Area Laboratories Co-Operative (BALCO) cooperators, clubs and players from around the league were implicated, as were the player's union and commissioner's office and league owners (from what I've read in the report, economics always took precedence in trying to monitor and combat illegal drug use in the majors).

One interesting fact that the Mitchell Report revealed was that players who used didn't necessarily succeed. Sure, there were the big stars like Roger Clemens, Andy Pettitte and Miguel Tejada who were accused, but the majority of the 80 or so players mentioned were essentially non-impact players who spent only a few years in the Major Leagues.

Commissioner Bud Selig (disclosure time: I've never been a fan: he ruined the meaning of the All-Star game) has vowed to punish those active players who have "hurt the integrity of the game." What does that mean? How is that defined? How do you punish players who were named by a couple of people (many without corroboration) which basically come down to heresy? My guess is he will try to push more blame onto Bonds, who is facing legal trouble in a perjury and obstruction of justice case, and brush away the others as not damaging to baseball's integrity. Don't expect a lot to come of this report, it will be hard enough for the Commissioner's Office and Players Association to hammer get together in the same room, let alone hammer out an effective drug-testing policy. As long as the fans keep coming and don't demand it by withholding their Visa cards from merchandise and box offices, not much will happen.

Also, this report doesn't even touch baseball's dirty little secrete: the fact that amphetamines have been widely used in the major leagues since the long bus-trip days of the 1950's and 60's to keep player's stamina and alertness up.


The Morality of Performance-Enhancing Drugs in Sports

The question that remains is: should the players, the owners and the fans care if players are using steroids or HGH or amphetamines? Obviously, none of us (including myself) has cared very much up until the past few years, if at all. Technically, everybody was winning while they were being used. We the fans got to enjoy dramatic races for home run records and top-notch pitching performances, the players (who used and succeeded) likely got more money through salaries and endorsements, as well as beefing their stats, while owners gained profit through attendance and merchandising revenues gained from the amazing performances of doped-up players.

But what morals are there to be had in sports? Should there be any at all? If the point of sports is to win (sure, playing the game is fun and all, but on a professional level, you win or lose, there is one champion and 20-plus losers every year), then why not gain every conceivable advantage one can to do so? Where do we draw the line in what is performance-enhancing and what is not?
So let's say that using steroids or HGH gives an athlete an unfair advantage over others. What about supplements and vitamins? Or access to trainers and equipment? Or altitude variance? Should the Olympics say that all competing athletes must train on the same equipment, have the same access to trainers in all countries so as not to gain unfair advantage, thus assuring that the very best athletic performance is rewarded, not the most well-funded programs?

I think there's a root problem in trying to lay down morals and ethics in sports, just as there is in war, because they are both about competition and victory. If the mindset is one of winning a gold medal or world championship, then when one has an opportunity to gain advantage in order to have a competitive edge, it must be taken. Why else would one be competing if not to win? Is it unfair to attempt to put athletic competition into a box with morality and ethics? Are they compatible with each other?

I'm honestly not sure. I like the idea of athletes competing and winning based on sheer skill and talent, but I can see why all the cheaters we've seen in sports lately did it, when all that is at stake and the mentality of competition is put into context. Sometimes I wonder if we should just do like the old Saturday Night Live "Drug Olympics" sketch and allow anything and everything to gain a competitive edge. Wouldn't the playing field be more even?

Until this all gets figured out, until testing becomes reliable and all of the parties involved make an honest and concerted effort to combat the drug problem in professional sports, I will still be a fan. I'll love baseball as long as I live, if not for its purity then also for its flaws.

Beautiful Birdsongs in the City of Angels

I return from Los Angeles unscathed, yet somewhat disillusioned by the freeze that has entrenched itself along the Wasatch Front. I always forget someting when I travel, this time it was my toothbrush (which as to be the most-oft forgotten item in traveling) and, sadly, the digital camera. Boo to me.

Some things I noticed: I don't get what a lot of people around Utah (or the U.S.) are doing complaining about Spanish being too prevelant. A common comment I hear is "learn the language or leave". Most of the arguments against immigration in the country I have heard sound couched in racism, now and historically, whether it be against Irish, Italians, the Slavic or Hispanics. Driving around L.A. (and whenever I visit a true metropolitan) reminded me just how much the United States is an immigrant country, that it is essentially hypocritical for us to carry on in such a way that some do, talking about deporting people who have lived here for years working hard and depriving their children (who have done nothing wrong) of basic rights in healthcare and education. Koreatown, Thaitown, Chinatown - these are all unique elements that add to Los Angeles's identity in a positive way. Incidentally, people of Hispanic descent are now the largest ethnic "group" in the city.

The consumerism aspect was great, in a used sort of way. I spent bills quite freely and got two (used) shirts, a new (very slightly used) pair of sneakers, a (used)hoodie and a new hat (as if I don't have enough of those) at Buffalo Exchange and narrowed the dozens of vinyl finds at Ameoba Records to Los Lobos, Sunset Rubdown, George Jones, The National, Randy Newman and Camper Van Beehtoven. (I could literally spend days there. I made a foray over to the hip/hop and electronica sections only to run away - my list was already too large from browsing just the rock.) I also picked up an Andrew Bird vinyl and tee at the concert.



About the concert: Andrew Bird was amazing, spectacular. I never realized what a presence he is on stage - a true showman. The music that he creates live is overwhelmingly beautiful - I've listened to and loved his records, but seeing him pull it off live gives such depth to his talent and adds an extra dimension to the musical textures he creates. Decked out in a three-piece suit, he played a few songs solo, just him, his violin and his loop pedal, before bringing out Martin Dosh (his great solo work can be found on one of my favorite labels, anticon) and Jeremy Ylvisaker to join him for the remainder of the show. He covered a lot of territory from his two most recent albums - Armchair Apocrypha and The Mysterious Production of Eggs, threw in a few older tunes and played a new one - about "if humans were to evolve into something else in the space of their own lifetime" called, I believe, "Anom-A." It was the best live show I have seen in a long time, certainly the most moving I've seen this year. There points when the beauty of it all nearly brought me to tears. It was so intimate that I felt throughout the show that he wasn't playing for a crowd of a couple thousand, but rather for me a dozen people in a small room (and the Orpheum's architecture and atmosphere were a boon to the music).

I've a good bit of Bird lately. Oh well, here's more, along with some Dosh. "Simple X" is one that Andrew Bird put lyrics to a Dosh song, "Simple Exercises." Listen for Bird's violin samples on "Um, Circles and Squares". It's hard to miss.

Andrew Bird - Measuring Cups (Live) (from Fingerlings 3)
Andrew Bird - Simple X (from Armchair Apocrypha)
Dosh - Simple Exercises (from Pure Trash)
Dosh - Um, Circles and Squares (from The Lost Take)
Dosh - I Think I'm Getting Married (from Pure Trash)

A parting post - Rothko, Radiohead and a poem

Tomorrow, I head to Los Angeles for a weekend of Andrew Bird at the The Orpheum Theatre, Amoeba Music (then I'll have visited all three locations), Buffalo Exchange, good food, and most importantly, solid time away from work and landlock. Hopefully there will be reportage from the battle front, some good vinyl and wardrobe finds, and as always, intellectual and spiritual enlightenment. Or at least some good laughs.

Upon departing, I leave you with a poem I wrote several years ago, the painting which inspired the poem, by one of my favorite artists, Mark Rothko, and two songs from the bonus b-sides disc of Radiohead's recent release, In Rainbows. "Last Flowers" and "4 Minute Warning" are the two most simply constructed songs on the disc and they show how easy it is for Radiohead to write straightforward, beautiful tunes, even if it is their complicated compisitions that give them their most praise. What amazes me about the band is just how great even their b-sides are. Rothko and Radiohead share a cozy place near my soul. Last time I checked, you could find the Rothko original at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.

Mark Rothko, No. 14, 1960

No. 14, 1960

The docent asked how it made us feel,
A pallette of red, darkness.
"Violence."
"Rage."
"Hate."
Heads bobbed in unison.
Their assumptions soon validated
By the guide's eager gossip,
Your late-life suicide.

As the group's feet echoed
Unenthusiastically into another atrium
I stood, transfixed with warmth,
Alone in the pure passion -
Your painting.

Emotion framed on canvas.
A scraggly, fading rectangle surrounded
By a deep crimson darkness.

Life is simple and messy and pure.

-J.D. Nielsen

Last Flowers
4 Minute Warning

Respite from weather and politics

After the politics and the snow, here's a few tunes. Once again, they include Philip Glass from his Solo Piano and Godspeed You! Black Emporer, this time from the live from their John Peel Session. Concluding the music is another post-rock song from Explosions In The Sky's The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place.


"Obsolescence is the leading product of our national infatuation with technology, and I now believe that obsolescence is not a darkness but a beauty: not perdition but salvation. The more headlong the progress of technological development, the greater the volume of obsolete detritus. And the detritus isn't simply material. It's angry religion, resurgent countercultural ideologies, the newly unemployed, the eternally unemployable. These are the fiction writer's gurantee that he or she will never be alone. Obsolescence is our legacy."

-- Jonathan Franzen from the essay "Scavenging" (which can be found in How To Be Alone)

Godspeed You! Black Emporer - Hungover As The Queen in Maida Vale

Philip Glass - Wichita Sutra Vortex

Explosions In The Sky - First Breath After Coma

Sundance 2008 line-up announced

The slate of films chosen to represent the Sundance Film Festival in 2008 were released today, jostling a jolt of excitement in me. I don't know why I neglected the festival for so long, being a lover of movies and living along the Wasatch Front, but once I finally braved the traffic and cold January ticket lines, I was hooked. It's always hard to tell what will be good and what won't, which is why it's good to get some word-of-mouth advice from fellow festival patrons. This year there is a Chuck Palahniuk adaptation (Choke), a new Michel Gondry film, some off-beat comedies (there's almost a Sundance Quirky Comedy genre now), dysfunctional family dramas, U2 in 3-D, and documentaries about linguists, gang violence in South L.A., steroids, Hunter Thompson, rural Russian delenquints, water, and Morgan "Supersize Me" Spurlock searching for Osama bin Laden. Should be an interesting year. I've learned a few things in my few festivals as attendee (links to the 2008 line-up below):

1)It's best to see the films that may not get a wide-release rather than the star-driven vehicles that will show up in the local movieplex a couple of months (or even weeks) after the festival - this generally means more foriegn-language and lower-budget ones for me.

2)Documentaries are the easy-to-get-into, hidden gems of the festival. I've seen my share of pretty bad to mediocore dramatic features, but all of the docs I've seen have been anywhere from good to absolutely riveting.

3) It's nice to get your tickets in advance, but there's also something about wait-listing your way in. This usually means showing up two hours before the screening, getting a piece of paper with your designated number and hoping that some people don't show up for the screening. There's only been a couple that I haven't gotten into, but luckily there's generally another movie starting soon somewhere nearby to catch as a back-up. Last year I was able to see my two favorites, "Once" and "In The Shadow of the Moon" by wait-listing. Plus, wait-listing is a good way to meet some fellow film buffs who have traveled from all around the country or world to be there, as well as a lot of the filmmakers who are also taking in the festival.

4) Stick around for the question-and-answer sessions after the movies. These are what makes festivals like Sundance so cool. Getting into the filmmakers and actors motiviations and desires while making the movies can be extremely interesting and sometimes hilarious. You'll hear behind-the-scenes stories that will never show up in the DVD extras.

5) Don't waste your time star-gazing/stalking. You're just as likely to see that untalented harlot sipping a soy latte at a local coffee shop as you are standing outside Harry O's for three hours in the cold wating for her to stumble out after an invite-only Snoop Dogg set. Celebrities and psuedo-celebrities are freaking everywhere in Park City during Sundance. Go to the movies and you'll be just as likely to see them if that's what you want.

6) Check out Slamdance Film Festival, Sundance's first (and best) offspring. I discovered it while reviewing for the University of Utah's student rag, the Daily Utah Chronicle, and saw a couple of good movies and one that was better than most Sundance dramatic entries. It's what I imagine Sundance was like fifteen or twenty years ago, before any company with a new product line to schill devoured the streets of Park City. The films will be announced December 5th. It has a cool do-it-yourself vibe and it's cheaper and has much better access to the filmmakers than Sundance.

I'll be reviewing what I see, with daily updates, right here at Concrete Fiction once the festival gets going.

Here is a list of competition films at this years festival (Documentary, Dramatic, World Cinema Documentary, World Cinema Dramatic).

You can find the list of non-competition films (Premiers, New Frontier, Spectrum, Park City at Midnight) on this page.

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In the spirit of the upcoming festival, here are a few songs that have appeared in Sundance movies I've seen in the last couple of years. (Song links at bottom of post.)

First is M. Ward and his song "Carolina" from the movie "The Go-Getter", a 2007 selection starring Lou Taylor Pucci, Zoey Daschanel and Jena Malone. Ward and his band are featured heavily throughout the film, and they even make a cameo near the beginning. This is a movie worth seeing when it gets picked up.

Then we have Gogol Bordello's "Through the Roof and Underground", a song that plays prominently in the 2006 Sundance alum (and recent release) Wristcutters: A Love Story. Gogol Bordello is a true treat live, something I learned not long after being introduced to them simaltaneously through this movie and my buddy. Bandleader Eugene Hutz was in They are part circus-act, part immigrant folk troupe, part pure dub-punk energy when they hit the stage. Don't miss them if you get the chance.

Finally, we get Glen Hansard & Markéta Irglová's "When Your Mind's Made Up" from the brilliantly understated musical love story, Once. I've written about this film a bit elsewhere on this blog, but let me just say, Hansard and Irglová are pure magic onscreen. A must-see.

Sundance Songs:

M. Ward - Carolina

Gogol Bordello - Through the Roof and Underground

Glen Hansard & Markéta Irglová - When Your Mind's Made Up

Winter here to stay? Andrew Bird is!

There's something about a physical, visual finality of metamorphosis that is so beautiful. Along the Wasatch Front tonight, we were witness to what could be called the end of autumn and the beginning of winter. After weeks of hearing about ski resorts pushing back their opening dates and the predictions of future drought from climatologists, we were finally treated to the first real snow of the season.

Before now, there have been flakes in the air, but not much stuck. While this wasn't exactly a substantial snowstorm, there is a good couple of inches that managed to stick on the ground. It's quite late in the year for the snow to finally signal winter is around the corner, it seems like there's usually a good storm pre-Halloween. But I walked out of work this evening excited and entranced. The snow was falling haphazardly, in a mad rush to get to the ground and make its claim on the season, to show the warm fall days we've been having who owns the climate now.

Autumn is my favorite season - as I've written before - but in the past couple of years, I've picked up snowshoeing, so winter has gotten a passionate boost. I wasn't really prepared for it when I first broke in my new pair a couple of years back, after about two hundred yards up a not-too-steep grade I was gasping and panting. (The first snow hike of the season is always like that and after gorging during the Thanksgiving holiday, I'm ready for a good, cold slap in the face.) But I kept it up and found the exhilaration and solace that the woods in winter time can bring. I love the way the world is muted after new-fallen snow, and outside the confines of the city, the serenity and harmony of things that this brings is magnified. Plus, bombing down a steep slope in your snowshoes with some sturdy snowboard boots to keep the ankles stiff is really something else.

So, welcome Winter, I hope you're hear to stay and bless us in Utah with mounds of that airy, dry snow that you so expertly whip up each year.



Oh, and how about cheering up your day a bit with some Andrew Bird? The folks over at Daytrotter recently lured Mr. Bird into their studio with the band Diagona backing him up and released these songs. If you've never encountered any Daytrotter Sessions before, you should definitely check out the website. A studio located in Rock Island, Illinois, it's enviously fantastic how Daytrotter gets so many relevant and masterful musicians into their quarters to re-work or lay down songs to be released free to the public. Here are the songs from the Bird Sessions. "A Breaks B" is apparently a Diagona original, to be released on a future album and "The Giant of Illinois" is a Handsome Family song, who happen to be currently on tour with Bird. The versions of these other songs are lush, interesting, but still not too-foreign from the album originals. "Fiery Crash" in particular is allowed to take a little more meditative time compared to the more urgent take on Armchair Apocrypha.

Fiery Crash (Daytrotter Sessions)
Lull (Daytrotter Sessions)
A Breaks B (Daytrotter Sessions)
Pasticities (Daytrotter Sessions)
The Giant of Illinois (Daytrotter Sessions)

Rivalry Week and Why I Love Sports

I've often wondered what it is about sports that gets us (who choose to) so riled, so emotionally involved, so proud/angry over something that is, as we who participated in youth athletics were all told at one time or another, "just a game". This weekend is as good a time as any for myself to contemplate this. Rivalry week just wound up here on the Wasatch Front, when my beloved University of Utah Utes football team blew a lead for the second year in a row with under two minutes left to lose to the hated Cougars of Brigham Young University. First, a bit on the rivalry.

If you didn't grow up in the Beehive State, it's difficult to fully comprehend the depths to which this football game plunges. I would argue it's one of the best in the country. (By best I also mean worst; I mean fans acting without reason or any notion of maturity. As I'm writing this sentence, there is a news story on KSL-5 about a Ute fan who was head-butted by a Cougar fan at the game, breaking his nose.) The Utah-BYU rivalry has all the characteristics of other big rivalries in college football (usually based on in-state or geographic connection, ivy league snobbery or armed forces branches) except, just to make it even more interesting, it has become known as a religious rivalry. Some see it as the Mormons against the ubiquitous "non-members", though among us fans who are able to reconcile being a Ute fan and LDS, I would say it's generally characterized as the "regular" Mormons (Utah fans) against the "weird" Mormons (Cougar fans). That streak of religiosity, however falsely perceived, gives the game a zest of fundamentalism (on both sides) rarely seen in this country, with the exception of outside abortion clinics in the South - or in the halls of the White House.

Growing up, I was plagued by a perpetually terrible Utah football team, which meant mockery from neighbors, who also carried about a holier-than-thou attitude about choosing to root for "the Lord's school" rather than those heathens at the U. This was in the midst of Lavell Edwards' greatness, but luckily for me, the playing field began to even itself in the early nineties. Utah football improved drastically, with the pinnacle coming in 2004, and a rivalry with question as to who would win was reborn for my formative years.

Yesterday I made a trip to Provo with my brother for the annual throwdown, the third time I would witness it in Happy Valley. The first was in 1995 - the Utes won, I sat in the Cougar Club section, and a middle-aged Zoobie who was sitting a row behind smacked my friend Nate in the back of the head after we stood up to cheer for a Utah play, claiming that we "didn't know anything about the world". I'm still not sure what he meant by that, but Nate had the last laugh when he replied, "At least I know it's immature for an adult to hit a kid." Oh, and Utah won that year.

My second trip was ten years later, in 2005. I wasn't eager to go down - the Utes had just lost their starting quarterback, the season was feeling like a letdown after the literally perfect 2004 campaign and I didn't want to sit among 60,000 blue-clad freaks for four hours. I decided to go mainly as a chance to visit Megan, Tanner and Jason, who were students down there and I didn't see very often. Jason and Tanner were good men, though - Ute fans through and through. Megan and I were lucky enough to have a friendship based on a hatred of math and a love of literature, therefore I was able to look beyond her school affiliation. Jason and I used to go to Ute games together in high school, and we got to sit together among the red-wearing faithful in the western part of the north end zone. Oh, and Utah proved victorious in overtime. It was probably the best all-out football game I've ever been to.

I had high hopes for yesterday. After an extremely disappointing 1-3 start (and an open-letter blog I wrote but never posted after a 27-0 loss to UNLV), the Runnin' Utes were playing their best football in two or three years - the defense was especially amazing. And BYU was, well, BYU. Just ask any Ute fan, BYU always sucks. It was a very good game - very defense oriented, but Utah couldn't get their offense going to compliment the exemplary "D" being thrown down by Robert Johnson, Steve Tate, Stevenson Sylvester and the rest of the crew.
Then, with a minute and forty seconds left, Utah orchestrated a touchdown drive to take a 10-9 lead. BYU got the ball back and three plays later (including one sack by Sylvester), they were looking at 4th down and 18 yards to go deep in their own territory. This was it. I was elated -- laughing, smiling, hugging my brother, touching hands with other Utah fans interspersed among the Cougar faithful around me. We were jubilant. Then, in one play, it all went bad. Brice McCain blew coverage on Austin Collie, while Max Hall escaped another sack and threw a fifty-yard bomb to Collie for the first down. My heart sunk. I was devastated. My heart was broken. My faith was suddenly doused in caffeine-free Diet Coke and stomped on by metal-spiked cleats. It was only a couple of questionable calls and an eleven-yard run later that the Team Down South sealed their victory. My week was ruined.

So why did I allow this to happen? Why did I invest so much emotion, so much faith, so much purported happiness in a freakin' football game?

I think it all goes to the same reason I reach for religion -- I want to feel part of something bigger than myself, something communal, where we, the like-minded, can all dress up similarly, pass signs and physical contact among each other in our celebration and mourning. In this we hope that we might find reason among, and make sense of, all the madness in the world, all the events that are absolutely beyond our control. We are united in one common purpose. In sports, we clap and cheer, in religion we clasp our hands and bow our heads.

I'm glad I went to the game yesterday, even though we lost and I was surrounded by people in blue who represented something I don't understand or think is quite right, we were all reaching for personal fulfillment through something greater than ourselves.


Whew. Got that one off my brain. Now, here's a little playlist for the ears. I just kind of browed my music collection on the old computator and picked some songs that seemed to fit for me, here and now. It begins with a Glass solo piano work (who could ever argue against Philip Glass?!), followed by the bizzarely beautiful cut-n-paste sounds of Animal Collective. If you haven't heard them, check these guys out. Animal Collective is what happens when you put Brian Wilson in the washing machine with a Super Nintendo, the Information Age and sea water. Following is Trent Reznor's soft-loud-soft-loud "The Day the World Went Away." I've loved this song since high school, when I bought the single. The song highlights some reasons why Reznor is a great producer. Medeski, Martin and Wood, the best damn avant-jazz-funk combo around. Whenever they come to Utah, it is with a jazz festival and the stuffy, upper-crust, old-school, donating-members jazz types are pushed out of the way by the young folks dancing to MMW's infectious grooves. It's a funny sight. Then we have Humanity's Best Candidate for Elf, Joanna Newsom's closer from The Milk-Eyed Mender. I love how her voice takes precedence on this song and the delicate picking of the harp rather than grand, dramatic swoops. Closing out the mix is everyone's favorite orchestral rockers, the Canadian Marxist musical collective, Godspeed You Black Emporer! with their glorious, epic (when are they not glorious or epic, though?) opener to their masterpiece, Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas to Heaven, "Storm".
Enjoy.

Philip Glass - Metamorphosis One
Animal Collective - Unsolved Mysteries
Nine Inch Nails - The Day The World Went Away
Medeski, Martin and Wood - Take Me Nowhere
Joanna Newsom - Clam, Crab, Cockle, Cowrie
Godspeed You Black Emporer! - Storm

Arcade Fire on Austin City Limits This Sunday!

Every year there are one or two bands that I really get into. Not just happily introduced to or discovered, but more to the point of becoming quite fanatical about them, thrusting burned cds into strangers hands unsolicited and attempting to decipher the meaning of ambiguous lyrics long into the night. Past artists be on this prestigious list (at least to anyone who holds my opinion prestigious - I'm raising my hand) include Subtle, Calexico, Elliott Smith, Wilco, Radiohead, Bob Dylan and my first pop music obsession, The Beatles. This year, that band is Arcade Fire.

I didn't receive the band very warmly when their first album, Funeral was released. I remember hearing a track or two on public radio and feeling, just, well I guess not feeling would be the way to describe it. I can't tell you exactly why, just not the right time and situation, I suppose (though some of it had to do with the massive hype surrounding the release, I'm always wary of the Pitchfork effect in the indie rock world). However, I gave the band another go-round this spring when they released their second full-length, the inspiring, splendid Neon Bible and I was blown away. This has happened to me before (giving a band or album a second listen months or years down the line). It is actually quite cool - like discovering meaning after-the-fact, through events already trudged through (and hoped by the experiencer to never revisit).

Well, I've been enjoying a nice honeymoon with husband-wife duo/band founders Win Butler & Regine Chassagne and the rest of the Canadian crew for the past six months, absorbing all the demos and b-sides I could get my ears on. The band has a great reputation live, and this weekend they appear on the best music television show America has to offer, PBS's Austin City Limits. Here in Utah it airs on KUED-7 at midnight (technically Sunday morning) and the episode looks to be a hoot. You can check out "Keep The Car Running" on the show's website, complete with hurdy-gurdy. I've got my DVR set.

Below are some of my favorite Arcade Fire songs. I think what draws me to the band most is the ability for the music to sound like a downright celebration while the lyrics often reflect unease, uncertainty and cynicism.

It's kind of like life - at least as viewed through my eyes - a helluva a lot of suffering and doubt adorned by beauty and warmth beyond description.

Download the entire Arcade Fire playlist

or, individually:

Wake Up (from Funeral)
Keep The Car Running (from Neon Bible)
My Body is a Cage (from Neon Bible)
Surf City Eastern Bloc (from "No Cars Go" single)
Crown of Love (from Funeral)
(Antichrist Television Blues) (from Neon Bible)
Headlights Look Like Diamonds (from Arcade Fire EP)
Maps (Yeah Yeah Yeahs cover) (from some 2007 Coachella sampler)
In The Attic (from the band's 2001 demos)

The Lost Art of Facial Hair

I'm a guy who likes to switch up his look. One of the easiest and best ways to do this is by messing around with different varieties of facial hair growth. I'm big on experimentation: standard beard, fuzzy lambchops, pencil-thin mustache, goatee, soul-patch, lenghty beard, neck beard, sideburns, standard 'stache, soup-strainer stache - the more I see and the thicker my hair gets, the more I try. Ever since I grew my first sideburns and soul patch when I was eighteen (when I finally could) I haven't stopped. It's a fascination in morphing appearance that probably won't ever end. In fact, I haven't had a totally shaven face since then: the soul patch at the least always stays so there is something I can tug on when I'm thinking (or, perhaps more appropriately, want to look like I'm deep in thought).

My whole fascination must be some hybrid of my love of the Old West since I was a child and idolization of all things classic rock in my early teens.

However, I live in a time and place that is pretty tough on creative facial hair. Sure, rock stars, liberal-art teaching academics, construction workers and (shudder) hippies get away with it well enough, but everywhere else in society seems to frown upon it. There's some unwritten code that dictates: grow facial hair, don't succeed (including all you professors out there - "liberal arts" - scoff!). Is it some indication of prediliction to immoral acts or teacherous motives that I am unaware of?

I have yearned for a return to the days of 150 years ago, when men's facial hair in America was finally expressing its collective freedom. The mid-to-late nineteenth century truly was the golden age of creative facial hair. Hell, sideburns got their name from General Ambrose E. Burnside's (see picture to the right) famously uninhibeted ear flappers. They're like the rings of Saturn.

I long for the day when your average, white-collar professional (admittedly, something I've never yearned to be) has six inches of mustache twisted and formed into a terrifically fanciful twirl, when the President of the United States has chops patterened after an-upside down Floridean shape (perhaps to win votes?), and the leaders of my church return to the glory of their long-bearded ancestors. I think there is some freedom, some part of ourselves as masters of our own destiny that we lose when we allow such a prominent sign of our masculinity, of our gender, to be cut away with the shear of a scissor or blade of a Bic.

I predicted years ago that we'd see a beard trend on the horizon, and though it hasn't taken over society like some widespread system of strangly roots, it has made progress. I applaud you men out there who are fighting the good fight. Keep up the good work. Now let's get a start on bringing back the 'stache - no longer will it only be the domain of sexual predators and highway patrolmen.

Men, it's time to stand up. It's time to throw down the pre-pubescent, look of clean shaven lollygaggers and grow some David Crosby mustaches, Lincoln chin beards and burly mountain man unruliness!

And now, some songs by those who have inspired me not only by their music, but also by their gnarly choices in facial hair.

Download the entire playlist here

The Beatles - I've Got A Feeling
Band of Horses - Weed Party
Bob Dylan - Po' Boy
Outkast - Love Hater
Built To Spill - Fly Around My Pretty Little Miss
Bonnie "Prince" Billy - Cold & Wet
Charles Mingus - Better Get Hit in Yo' Soul
Grandaddy - Now It's On
Tom Waits - Straight to the Top (Vegas Version)
The Grateful Dead - Cumberland Blues
The Band - Ophelia
The Killers - This River is Wild

My Morning Jacket - Dancefloors
Iron & Wine - The Spectre of Jasper County

Talkin' Politics, Red Sox and Sigur Rós

Anyone who has ever talked politics with me for more than five minutes has probably realized a couple of things. First, I'm a political junkie - the theatre of politics is unceasingly interesting to me, definitely to a geek level. Second, my own politics fall well beyond any of the political parties in mainstream America (sorry, the two parties) and I hold about equal contempt for both, it just depends on the day and who is in power. When I say I have libertarian-socialist-via-capitalism leanings, I'm not kidding, it's just hard to fit in a box. If only I ruled the world ...

That said, I like to follow both the liberal and conservative opinion of whatever is going on in my country. I read The Weekly Standard, The New Republic, and Salon.com to try to keep up. Yesterday, I read a fascinating profile by Matt LaBash over at the conservative Standard about Roger Stone , a political operative in the most cunning (or sleazy, depending on your political affiliation) of sorts. The man worked behind the scenes in virtually every election from Nixon-Humphrey to Bush-Gore (LaBash credits him for stopping the recount in Dade County, Florida). He's the kind of political consultant that poli sci students like me drool over, idolize and worship as a god (Karl Rove is also a god, by the way). The stories told (if you can believe them all, that is -- deniability is one of the best assets to a behind the scenes consultant) are the stuff of political thriller movies. It's lengthy, but definitely worth a look.

The fact that I worship men like Roger Stone and view politics as he does (basically as performance art, only you screw as many people as necessary with whatever tactics to win) is why I've scared myself away from seriously considering politics as a career. But I'd be one helluva man to have on your campaign - just don't ask questions.

Today, over at The New Republic is an article about Utah's favorite presidential candidate Mitt (The Biggest Massachussets Flip-Flopper Since John Kerry) Romney and why the Mormon issue is an issue for him unlike it was for John Kennedy in 1960. It's short, concise, insightful analysis. I'm not a big Mitt fan, he's got a track record as a good leader, but after changing many social stances about the same time he decided to run for president, he's lost my trust. Either he's telling social conservative primary voters what they want to hear, or he truly had some sort of epiphanous moment of realization that has affected his views concerning women's rights, homosexual rights and health care (including advancements that stem-cell research could bring). Both reasons for his morph rub me wrong.

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Now on to the congratulations: Thanks to the Boston Red Sox for providing a great season for their fans and winning the World Series for the second time in four years. Curse? What 86 year-old curse? This year baseball actually had the best team throughout the season win the title, which seems to be rare since the wild-card was thrown in. The Colorado Rockies just couldn't catch a break in the 4 games, while Boston's bats where stinging balls down the lines for double after double, the Sox starting pitchers all had excellent outings and perhaps the strangest guy in baseball, (and baseball is full of weirdos and freaks, more than any other American sport, I think) Jonathan Papelbon, was unstoppable when he came in to close the games.
Ever since I was eight years old and watched the official videotape of the 1988 World Series L.A. Dodgers season, I've wanted to participate in a locker-room champagne free for all. Maybe I can scam my way into a general manager job somewhere ...
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And now onto the best stuff. The music, of course. Sigur Rós is on my mind today, I'm not sure why, I think I just needed some beauty to accompiny contemplation earlier on. For those who haven't heard the band, they are a foursome from Iceland, guitarist/vocalist Jónsi Birgisson sings in a made-up language, and they produce some of the most unique, graceful, gorgeous, enlivening music to ever pleasure your ears. If someone were to ask me what one concert they should see, if they only got one in their life, I would not choose Radiohead or Bob Dylan or Wilco or any of my other faves I've had the chance to see live. I would direct them to Sigur Rós.

I bought the band's American debut, ágætis byrjun in the winter of 2000/2001. I was living in St. George, Utah for school at the time. That winter, I remember driving the 300 miles north to my home one weekend during a white-out blizzard that stretched from about Cedar City to Scipio in my 1974 Mercedes, travelling into nothing but pure white as the music floated my car through the storm. It was one of the most beautiful music-to-driving moments I've ever had.

When I saw them in the summer of 2006, I had, no shit, a couple of minutes that are among the most spiritual, trascendent of space and time as I've ever had in my life. (And just for you naysayers out there wondering about chemically psychedelic influence, I was completely sober.) It was during "Hoppipolla", I closed my eyes, and I just was. A pure moment of being. I was not physical, I was spiritual, I was energy. It was absolutely amazing. They've got a really cool looking DVD coming out soon of interviews and performences in some unique places in Iceland, so keep on the lookout.

And for life's sake, if you ever get the chance, see the band live. Best 30 bucks I've ever spent on a concert and definitely worth planning a trip around to see.

Download entire Sigur Rós playlist

Hoppipolla (from Takk)
Untitled #4 [from ()]
Svefn-G-Englar (from Agætis Byrjun)
Staralfur [acoustic live]
Nýja Lagið [Live] (from Svefn-G-Englar EP)
Syndir Guðs [Live] (from Svefn-G-Englar EP)
Vaka (Untitled #1) [Live]

Elliott Smith

I missed the anniversary, but October 21st was four years to the day that Elliott Smith took his life. Funny, I can still remember I was driving up 1000 North in Centerville, on my way to a waterfall hike, when I flipped on NPR and heard Robert Siegal talking about Smith in the past tense. It took me a second to double take and think, "He doesn't have an album coming out", and then I realized, and seconds later the radio confirmed that Smith was found dead inside is apartment in Los Angeles.

This was a sad afternoon. I didn't cry or become hysterical, but rather hiked and reflected the way that his music, his lyrics had played part in my life. I am one who prefers downer music when he is down, it is like forcing empathy in your head. When I had my first (and so far hardest) heartbreak, it was Elliott Smith who predominated my playlist. But he went beyond that. He has also found his way onto my record player and iPod when I'm in the mood for something unearthly tuneful and melodic. When Jeff Tweedy sings about being "Saved by rock and roll" it makes me think of Elliott Smith and his music at moments in my life.

I was lucky enough to see him at the University of Utah's Redfest about a month before his death. Turns out that was his last show. My highlight: his cover of "Long, Long, Long" by the Beatles.

Elliott Smith is missed, but not forgotten. If you missed this year's New Moon, check it out. The 24 tracks sparsely re-worked by one of Smith's studio cohorts is not only fantastic, but represents what I consider the best period of his career (1994-97).

Here's some songs by the master of songwriting and pop music:

Download entire Elliott Smith playlist here

Thirteen (from New Moon)
In the Lost and Found (Honky Bach) (from Figure 8)
Say Yes (from Either/Or)
Let's Get Lost (from From A Basement on the Hill)
King's Crossing (from From A Basement on the Hill)
No Name #3 (from Roman Candle)
Waltz #2 (XO) (from XO)
Angeles (from Either/Or)
The Biggest Lie (from Elliott Smith)

OCTOBER 10 - BEST DAY IN MUSIC FOR 2008!

Radiohead has again proved why they are the greatest band in the world. And by greatest, I mean not only by musical output, but also ingenious guerilla tactics. I recieved an e-mail yesterday from the band's merchandise site, w.a.s.t.e. saying that Radiohead's new album, titled In Rainbows will be released on October 10 -- yeah, that's next week!

I posted recently about how it was looking like an '08 release for the new album, especially because the band was currently label-less. Well, they still are. The band may just throw the record business on its end because they are offering two ways of getting the album, one of which could be for free. If you follow the In Rainbows link above to pre-order the album, you'll find that if you get the digital/downloadable version, you pick the price. That's right, you pay as much or as little as you feel it is worth (or, I would say, are able to at the time). Then, on October 10, you can download the album.

There is also an option though, for what they are calling the discbox version of the album -- which are made to order. This includes two heavy-pressed twelve inches that vinyl geeks like me drool over, as well as CD versions and extra songs not available for download. Oh, and the artwork, which has always been a reason to buy the special edition Radiohead albums. The discbox is running at 40 British pounds, which is pricey (I haven't even converted it yet), but for quality pressed vinyl in basically a box-set, is not too bad.

The band has talked about doing this for a few years, about how they hate sitting on an album for up to six months after it is finished before the world hears it, about being done with "albums" and possibly releasing net only EPs as they finish the songs, etc. Well, they're taking a big risk. Check out Green Plastic, my favorite Radiohead fan site for more details and some excerpts of record industry reaction. Apparently, some are saying, if the best band in the world is going to offer music for free, why would people pay .99 cents for songs by artists who aren't near as good?

Wow, I am excited. Beyond excited. This is like waking up in June and having someone tell you that Christmas is next week. I am giddy and am heading over to the website to order my copy of the discbox right now.

Until then, contain yourself with these oldies-but-goodies from the band:



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