The great thing about this ’70s-era Springsteen mentioning his “16-years-old” girlfriend from New Jersey, who “didn’t come tonight,” is that you don’t know if he’s serious or just in character.
(Source: youtube.com)
February 6, 2012
January 16, 2012
New Blues on the Mississippi
As you already know, the Memphis Grizzlies, 2011 postseason oddities and 2012 preseason darlings, lost franchise cornerstone Zach Randolph for 6-8 weeks due to a torn MCL. As wrong as it feels to call Randolph a “cornerstone,” his uncharacteristically inspired play last year earned him a contract worthy of one. Added to the Grizzlies’ slow start this season, and the more crowded Western Conference, Randolph’s injury could hurt Memphis’ hopes of building off of a strong 2011.
The Grizzlies need a change. Their roster is full of above-average players, but Randolph was the star (not counting Rudy Gay) and they are now rudderless. A lot of teams would like to add a point guard as good as Mike Conley who is an effective, but not stellar, floor general. And, unless they make a change, the Grizzlies will be treading water at the bottom of the Western Conference until Z-Bo returns.
Luckily for Memphis, there is a point guard out there who can push them over the top and make them legitimate championship contenders once Randolph returns. The only thing is, he won’t tell them he wants a trade.
Steve Nash will never say that he wants to leave Phoenix. He’s called himself an “old school guy” who “signed a contract … made a commitment” and doesn’t believe in forcing his hand to get what he wants. ”I don’t feel it’s like choosing a restaurant,” Nash has said. But no other team needs a star, and can offer such an attractive package to get one, as much as Memphis does.
Imagine this lineup:
Steve Nash
Tony Allen
Rudy Gay
Zach Randolph
Marc Gasol
Is there any doubt that, barring injury, they could make a run to the Finals? Nash has proven that he can turn unremarkable players into efficient, productive rotation guys (Boris Diaw, Raja Bell, Channing Frye, Jared Dudley, etc.) and makes his team better. He even won two MVP awards doing this in 2005 and 2006. Most importantly, he’s a veteran who wants to win and that isn’t going to happen in Phoenix.
This modified Grizzlies roster is, admittedly, thin. But they proved last year that their style can be kryptonite to teams like San Antonio and, not counting one of the best playoff games ever, Oklahoma City. Rudy Gay, their most dynamic scorer, was injured last year and the Grizzlies were still within one game of the Western Conference Finals. Something tells me that Dallas was much happier to face the young Thunder, who rely on athleticism and wing-play, than the Grizzlies. Their old-school, down-low game can destroy the inside-out style that most NBA teams play now.
Memphis would need to give up considerable talent to pry the two-time MVP from Phoenix. Mike Conley, Darrell Arthur and OJ Mayo’s Corpse would likely be going to the desert, along with some draft picks. Memphis would probably have to take back a bad contract (Josh Childress, Channing Frye or former Grizzly Hakim Warrick) to appease Phoenix’s management. Yet, there is no way Memphis doesn’t take this deal. Nash gives them a second scoring option, behind Rudy Gay, and will improve the play of his teammates. More importantly, they get a hungry veteran who can match up with Chris Paul, Jason Kidd, Kyle Lowry and other Western Conference point guards.
No other contender needs to make this move. Sure, a lot of teams would like to have Steve Nash as their point guard, but they can’t offer a package as attractive as Memphis’ and still maintain championship expectations. This would be a high-risk, high-reward gamble for the Grizzlies; Nash is in the last year of his contract and can sign with a more seasoned, veteran-laden team to try and win a championship next year.
But why not take the risk? Memphis is a franchise known for leaving a trail of destruction in Vancouver, trading Pau Gasol for Kwame Brown and going 0-8 in the playoffs before last year. If Nash leaves next year for Miami, Los Angeles or New York, you can at least say that you tried. Championship windows in the NBA are notoriously narrow and Memphis is in one more injury (and one more Z-Bo weight gain) away from retreating into the Lottery.
In an era where star players force their way into major markets, often at the expense of their new team’s roster depth, it would be refreshing to see Steve Nash get the opportunity to push the Memphis Grizzlies into Finals contention. He’s one of the few beloved players left in the NBA and watching him waste the last few years of his career in Phoenix has been painful for any NBA fan. Playing in Memphis would give him another chance to captain a team before signing a last-ditch contract with the Knicks, Heat or Lakers. And, because he’s so popular, nobody would fault Nash for this.
This trade would give the Grizzlies a new identity as a serious NBA franchise, allow them improve their playoff positioning and make them more than a “dark horse” when Randolph returns. The Suns would shed awful contracts and receive legitimate ballers for Nash. While most trade rumors involving superstars would destroy teams in the process (Dwight Howard and Deron Williams would likely gut the depth of Orlando and New Jersey in the process), this is the best chance for a win-win trade in the NBA this season.
January 2, 2012
On Lana Del Rey
First off, let’s state the obvious: there is often dissonance between a song and the visuals that accompany it. This has been the case since MTV launched in 1981. This isn’t odd because listening to, and interpreting, a song is a highly personal experience. The individual meaning ascribed to any art is what makes it matter to so many people. However, a music video seems to dictate how we should feel about the music. The music can become inseparable from pre-determined images and that is why I think it’s important to hear a track before seeing it.
That being said, I love Lana Del Rey’s “Video Games” on a purely musical level. Her voice is smokey and alluring; the chord structure is simple enough; the lyrics are scathing. The longing and inflection in her voice make half of me hate the self-absorbed man it’s about while the other half wants to be him. As a listener, I should be so lucky to ignore her.
The video transforms how I feel about the song and makes me over-think everything about it. I know that I am late to this debate (as of writing, the video has over 15 million views), but I want to chime in on Lana Del Rey before we all move on to the next pop culture lightning rod. In 2012, 15 million views is your 15 minutes.
Lana is a perfectly polarizing celebrity for 2012 because she manufactured herself. There is palpable jealousy because she has done something most of us secretly wish we could do: she invented a new narrative for her life and dictates the conversation about her. Yes, she has the Internet Hype Machine behind her, but it only engaged as a reaction to her existence. Lizzy Grant never could have mattered. Lana Del Rey means everything. She forces us to have an opinion.
As singer-songwriter Lizzy Grant, she wasn’t going to break through to mass consciousness. But Lana Del Rey can. She draws from the Nancy Sinatra aesthetic (a persona too far removed from today’s culture to rip-off, but iconic and alluring enough to reference) and sings of lustful heartache. At once, she seems both more genuine and dishonest than any other contemporary artist; the retro, flower-in-her-hair look, the heartfelt lyrics, the over-produced videos released months before her debut album. The fucking suddenness of it all is what makes her overwhelming. We are blind-sided by everything in 2012 and it makes coping with popular culture that much more difficult.
Del Rey is likely to have more staying power than other recent Internet phenomena (Tyler, The Creator, Rebecca Black, etc.) because we are forced to take her seriously. Her beauty shocks us initially, but we feel her music - unlike Odd Future, who are as shocking and attention-grabbing as a rush hour car crash, and Black who rode a massive wave of mass cultural irony to prominence - is worthwhile.
All of this before her debut album even drops (1/31/12).
I am going to try and figure out what the “Video Games” music video is all about in a running diary. Full disclosure: I can’t not think of the video now when I hear the song and part of me thinks that is a shame.
0 - 0:03
We start with silence and b-roll from “The Tree of Life.”
0:07 - 0:15
These images feel like they should mean something to me, but they don’t. However, these chords mean everything at the moment.
0:22 - 0:28
I can’t help but feel there’s a Georgia O’Keeffe reference somewhere in here.
OH DON’T MAKE EYE CONTACT, LANA. YOU’RE KILLING ME.
1:52 - 1:54
Lana Del Rey is what would happen if Urban Outfitters made a starlet and I don’t know if this is a bad thing. This video seeps with nostalgia for lives we never lived and longing for emotions we’ve never felt. She sounds like she really loves the man who’d rather play video games than spend time with her. My male hubris has always wanted a woman to sing lovingly about me, despite my devotion to FIFA.
2:00-2:10
I feel like the footage of this wasted celebrity I don’t recognize is a bit much and takes away from the video. I just don’t like it (there, I said something simple about the video).
2:21 - 2:23
Grainy shots establish Los Angeles as the only place that this video, and Lana Del Rey, could be created. It’s our celebrity factory and the capital of American reinvention. Everybody there is an actor and nothing is as it seems. In California, existence is open to interpretation.
2:44 - 2:46
I see you shrugging your shoulder and shying from the paparazzi, Lana. Don’t think I didn’t catch that.
2:50 - 3:44
The grainy, recycled shots of places and people are exhausting me as a viewer.
3:45 - 3:46
Suddenly, out of nowhere, smiling.
3:49 - 3:51
We return to our normal “sad and pouty” proceedings.
3:53 - 3:55
A little of bit of contrived swagger from Lana.
On that note, this whole idea of the “Gangster Nancy Sinatra“ is absurd. Does everybody forget who Nancy’s father was and who he hung around with who he hung around with? Nancy had more street cred than Lana will ever ascribe to herself. I’m pretty sure people would have died in the 1960s if Nancy didn’t get radio play.
4:00 - 4:30
Am I supposed to hate Los Angeles for its self-indulgent, celebrity-driven nature? Am I upset that Lizzy Grant seized upon our desire for debate on what’s culturally-important to create Lana Del Rey? Our discord on the nature and value of celebrity has created legions of people ready to capitalize on these differences in opinion.
4:36
The video closes with a still shot of the Hollywood sign, as viewed from underbrush. The viewer and musician emerge from the wilderness to a land of manufactured importance.
—-
So, there you have it. A very late entry into the great Lana Del Rey debate of 2011, but an early salvo for 2012. She’s at once so reviled and praised that I doubt her debut album will do anything but cement our individual feelings about her. And so is the nature of our spontaneous, knee-jerk culture in the Internet age.
December 24, 2011
The Trains Always Run On Time
It’s night in Houston and, lying in bed, I hear the trains in the distance. Always whistling late at night. From my bed, I can remember growing up and listening to them echo through the silence before I fell asleep. On cold nights I buried myself in the covers and let their sound lull me.
I imagine those who live closer to the tracks must lie in bed, too, and remember what it once meant to sleep uninterrupted. While I miss the faint horn in the distance, they know the true value of silence and a peaceful, uninterrupted night.
December 22, 2011
Spanning the Continental Divide
As soon as the NBA returned from the 2011 lockout, fans were reminded why we hate to love this game: the association’s meddling with the New Orleans Hornets’ attempts to trade Chris Paul, and David Stern’s eventual strong-arming of the Los Angeles Clippers, showed us just how shady American basketball can be.
A superstar was lifted away from a middle-of-the-road team in a depressed city and dropped off in a major market flush with cash. This isn’t unique in 2011 and the phenomenon extends beyond American sports.
Paul’s move draws trans-Atlantic parallels to Wayne Rooney’s origins at Liverpool-based Everton. One of the most exciting young players in England, he was eventually signed by Manchester United for a transfer fee of £25.6 million, a then-record for an under-20-year-old player. And Everton, a perpetual mid-table club, was left to find another blossoming star that would undoubtedly leave. They’re still looking.
And therein lies one of the masochistic elements of following a local, floundering team. The city’s lights are never bright enough, its profile never big enough. In American basketball and English soccer, the richest teams attract the most glamorous players, leaving the competition with the scraps.
It’s becoming harder to ignore that America’s most internationally popular sport - basketball - is morphing into the Barclay’s Premier League. Yes, the games are different and some will argue that the on-field action disproves this theory. But, in the way NBA and EPL teams are managed, followed and marketed, the distinctions between the two are blurring.
There have only been 18 champions (2 teams, the Syracuse Nationals and Seattle SuperSonics, are now defunct) in the NBA’s nearly 60-year modern history. Between 1959 and 1969, the Boston Celtics won nine titles. In contrast, there have been only four EPL champions since the league was founded in 1993, including an improbable, last-day-of-the-season victory by Blackburn Rovers in 1995. What is remarkable is how little parity exists in both leagues. Manchester United has won 12 out of 19 possible championships; the Los Angeles Lakers and Boston Celtics have won 17 titles each.
—-
Why do fans continue to root for players who have no loyalty to their city? The best often get frustrated and leave town, forcing the fans to wonder what might have been and move on to the next guy.
Everybody wants to bask in the presence of a winner. But what about those who willfully accept, and embrace, mediocrity? How is sport an escape from their own lives? To be a fan of the Phoenix Suns or Fulham is, indeed, a lifetime lesson in patience.
The success of certain franchises in the NBA and EPL creates easy parallels: the Lakers and Celtics match up well with Manchester United and Liverpool. New-money teams like Chelsea and Manchester City, always accused of buying talent instead of developing it, feel like the Miami Heat and (shockingly) Los Angeles Clippers. Teams that survive on youth (Oklahoma City Thunder and Tottenham Hotspur) and system-based play (San Antonio Spurs and Arsenal) tend to find success without high-profile signings. In both leagues, marquee players drive big-market teams and fans fuel small-markets.
—-
As the NBA talent pool continues to concentrate in New York, Los Angeles and Miami, the league will face resistance from smaller markets. Since basketball is not the only game in town in many cities, fans are free to spend their time and money elsewhere. And for clubs like the Indiana Pacers, Milwaukee Bucks and Utah Jazz the ability to compete is becoming harder. The NBA is playing games in London while Manchester United tours America. The world is getting smaller and it is now harder to be a fan of your city, and your team, than ever before.
The power structure in basketball is changing and we’re entering an era that closely resembles English soccer. A few big teams will become commercial, and international, success stories while the have-nots will be stuck in what amounts to a second league within the NBA and being a fan of a mid- to low-tier NBA team will require the passion and patience of mid-table brethren across the Atlantic.
December 12, 2011
Things We Tolerated in 2011, Part Two
If you missed yesterday’s first installment, I’m highlighting some of the things we tolerated in 2011, for better or worse.
The NBA Lockout
Sure, the NFL Lockout was more important to a lot of people. But, everybody knew the NFL wouldn’t miss any games in 2011. There was too much money involved and football is too popular to go away. It wouldn’t have been American.
The NBA, however, was a different story. To care about the Association’s lockout, and be upset at the idea of missing early season games, you have to be a diehard fan. It was a lot more serious; games were cancelled, nobody really cared - The season is starting on Christmas Day - and Delonte West had to get another job at Ashley Furniture in the downtime.
But we NBA fans survived and we’re being handsomely rewarded: some crazy shit has already gone down in less than a week since we resumed normal proceedings.
Tolerating the lockout was worth it. The most mismanaged sports league in America is back.
New York
You lured away all of our friends with promises of culture, taxes, romance and lights. Jobs could come later because there was a whole to life to live out there.
We had to put up with all of our newly-minted New York friends tell us how amazing it was to live there, how they saw Aziz Ansari buying a gyro and that no other city on earth mattered. We were left to dream what it would be like to walk past a dead guy on the steps to the subway and guess how many ugly sweaters and suede Oxford shoes we’d need to own to live in Williamsburg. Our friends made us feel terrible about our lives Elsewhere and we became more upset than usual while eating at Wendy’s.
But, because we love “Annie Hall,” inexplicably care about everything that happens in New York sports and don’t want to look too smug when our friends are penniless after their nth internship, we tolerated New York.
Fiat
Fiat was desperate to remind America that it still existed in 2011. After leaving us in 1984, Fiat felt the need to reintroduce itself to us with the 500, its parallel-parking-flow menace from Europe. I’m grateful that Fiat took over Chrysler, which gave us my favorite series of advertisements in 2011:
Beyond the initial novelty of seeing a Fiat 500, though, we’re forced to tolerate them. Of course, we wouldn’t buy one ourselves because we don’t want to walk into a Fiat “Studio” and deal with whatever kind of person works there while keeping a straight face. We don’t personally know anybody that drives one either. But we don’t dislike 500 drivers like we do pompous Smart Car owners. We were content to let Fiat have their moment in the import sun, at least until Peugeot and Renault come roaring back into America.
(We did not tolerate their Jennifer Lopez commercial scam, so it doesn’t need to be mentioned here. That was weak, Fiat).
So there you have it. A few of the things that we, as people, had to tolerate in 2011. This list is not comprehensive, as some of the suggestions from friends will show. I hope you enjoyed it. Please stay tuned to the Audible Sigh, where I’ll be building a media empire based off of snark.
Suggestions from Amanda
Jersey Shore, empty marriage vows, Black Eyed Peas, people pretending Kristin Stewart can act, another “Hangover,” monster break-up ballads, people we no longer like, Thom Yorke dancing, copious amounts of “Watch the Throne” references from Aziz Ansari and “ironic” mustaches.
December 12, 2011
Things We Tolerated in 2011, Part One
The “Year in Review” is a time-honored tradition that boils down 365 days of books you should have read, albums you should have listened to and movies you should have watched into a concise list of culture that we never actually make the effort to digest. The lists tell us what’s worth our attention while giving us something to feel bad about after watching “Fast Five” for the second time.
There’s no reason that I should be able to make a “Best of” list for 2011; I didn’t read nearly enough books or see a decent amount of movies to pass judgment like that. I haven’t even seen a play since 2007. But I still lived, damnit. And I still took in, and tolerated, what was around me. So, for the less cultured among us, here is a list, in no particular order, of things that were tolerated in 2011:
Tyler, The Creator
Tyler, The Creator’s explosion onto the music scene was tolerable for a few reasons: he’s brash, profane, energetic and pretentious (the comma, I’ve read, is crucial). Really, Odd Future’s arrival was a giant moment of hipster catharsis. Tyler’s mostly white audience latched onto his punk sensibility and horror-core lyrics because it was the complete opposite of their normal lives (just writing the word horror-core is something I hope I don’t have to do in 2012). Tyler, The Creator, especially during SXSW 2011, represented a brief moment of opportunity for people who never got to work with Adult Swim, have their own pop-up store and rap about murder when they were 20 to sing along to horrible things and pretend to relate to an angry minor. But his full-length album Goblin received tepid praise, even from the hipster elite, and Odd Future cohort Frank Ocean has more definite mainstream staying power.
Moving
Moving is awful. But, we all had to do it this year. College ended, lives changed and spur-of-the-moment decisions about what to do with that futon were made. Space is at a premium in the back of a van and, sometimes, that uncomfortable half-bed just won’t make it. It’s rough choosing among your things what can come with you and what can’t. I was lucky enough to have a good friend travel 2,000 miles with me just to make sure I landed on my feet but, when she saw I had packed Mexican prayer candles and a framed photograph of kittens bought at Goodwill, she said, “You moved halfway across the country and you brought this?” Yes, yes I did. And that photo looks great in my bathroom.
Food Trucks
I’ve been eating at food trucks since I was a child. They were common sights in the working class neighborhood I grew up in and were great for people without a lot of money and time. But, in 2011, they hit critical mass. Food trucks are all over television, the Internet and your smartphone. Some are serving really clever food. But the adoration they’re getting all of a sudden seems a bit too much. I’m a huge fan of popular movements in food; the more accessible a cuisine is to the masses, the better. But I worry that some of these great chefs, who have the ambition to open their own trucks that create new fusions (Mexican-Korean, Indian-Mexican) or present great, simple food without the cost of opening a brick-and-mortar store, are being placed in a cultural bubble. What will happen when people get tired of waiting in line and eating while standing? Will the food press move onto something else and leave us with a glut of cupcake trucks that no longer have an audience? The dining world is tricky and I predict that every high-eating columnist that likes to pretend they’re slumming with the common man will return to the table and wine list in 2012.
Dubstep
WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB
Occupy Wall Street
Let’s be honest: most of us can agree that we are not in a good economic place. The anger channeled through Occupy Wall Street seemed to be genuine and populist from the outset. I sympathized with the idea that the concentration of wealth and power is not a good thing and I do believe that history demonstrates this. However, as time dragged on, I came to support Occupy Wall Street less and tolerate it more because it became clear that the protestors were awful at messaging. Unlike the Tea Party, which was successful in a small and very vocal niche that was angry at anything and everything, Occupy Wall Street had the chance to draw attention to peoples’ bank accounts and tax brackets. But once the general, non-dreadlocked portion of the population became aware of the economics realities in 2011 America, there was nowhere to go. There was no Phase 2 beyond camping in public spaces and that was frustrating.
Occupy allowed too many fringe groups to infiltrate: environmentalists, anarchists, etc. weakened their message to rank-and-file Americans. Do you think the Tea Party would have allowed environmentalists to add their grievances to the cause from the outset? Of course not. It worked politically because the general anger was fanned and nothing too specific was mentioned.
It makes sense that when a message grows in size and more people begin to take notice, the simpler that message has to be. And personal economics are something that everybody can understand. But when you get Middle America’s attention, you can’t say “We’d also like to talk to you about carbon emissions.” A pet issue on the left is just as divisive as a fringe cause from the right. And this is where Occupy Wall Street, a genuine populist movement that had a real chance to change the dialogue in our country, became intolerable. An airing of grievances, without a subsequent plan of action, will just be blown away.
Flossing
It makes the cut every year.
Part Two comes tomorrow. As always, thank you for your support of the Audible Sigh.
November 7, 2011
There is a wide gulf between college and professional basketball that is hard to overcome. It’s a rare instance in which you don’t, without hesitation, prefer one over the other. College is more clinical, rooted in the basics. The pros are about harnessing those basics to allow spontaneity and artistry when the natural rhythm of the game allows. If that sentence didn’t tip you off, you can probably guess which style I prefer. The divide between the two is the most noticeable in our sports landscape and it’s one reason why you rarely see a rookie in the NBA take over a team and the game.
There are exceptions.
Before I was even considered, the University of Houston exploded onto the college basketball scene and disappeared before the dust settled. Their style was so atypical, and so welcomed, that they were called “Phi Slama Jama.” Three NCAA Final Fours. Two national championship games. One coach. And zero championships. They were a chemical reaction, the kind of burst I like to watch but can’t be bothered to understand. An understanding by Guy Lewis that the Cougars had unmatched athleticism for a college team, Phi Slama Jama sprinted, dunked and embarrassed all other teams running pick and rolls, curls and layups. They were fans of slam dunks, or “high percentage baskets,” as Lewis called them. They created shots for themselves that could not be missed.
As a team, they’ve long been forgotten. Despite turning Akeem Olajuwon (no H yet) from a gangly, immigrant soccer goalkeeper into a raw, emotional and undeveloped center (seriously, watch early footage of Akeem, especially when he joined Ralph Sampson on the “Twin Towers” Rockets. He is undisciplined and unable to contain his power. Akeem was ejected from the Rockets’ 1985 upset of the Lakers and watched Ralph Sampson’s iconic and, sadly, career defining buzzer-beater from the locker room) and launching Clyde Drexler into the pros, the Phi Slama Jama Cougars are often seen as the victims of Lorenzo Charles’ last-second, tournament-winning slam dunk in the 1983 national championship game.
Why am I writing this? Well, it’s looking like the University of Houston will be moving to the Big East conference for athletics. Make no mistake about it, this is a football decision. The Big East wants to keep its automatic BCS bowl bid when it comes up for renewal in a few years by inviting Houston, Boise State, the military schools and others to mitigate the losses of Pittsburgh, Syracuse, West Virginia and TCU. Football is where the money is and it’s part of the reason UH is so eager to join. What excites me, as a Houstonian, is that Houston Cougar basketball will return to the consciousness of American sports fans. They’ll be playing UConn, Villanova, Notre Dame, St. Johns and more on a regular basis. They will probably lose to all of those schools on a regular basis. However, people will know that, despite appearing in the NCAA tournament in 2010 for the first time in nearly 20 years and not winning a tournament game since 1984, the Cougars never went away.
I’ve always wanted UH to do well. I find it odd that a school who dominated the NCAA for a brief window never gained a foothold on the sport. But, then again, that’s what makes the story of Phi Slama Jama romantic. They were the team. They opened up college basketball in way that hasn’t been done since. There’s a reason everybody hates Duke, Kansas and North Carolina: they win all of the time and it’s boring. You know they’re going to be in the mix and start the best recruits every single year. But stories like Phi Slama Jama let you remember how life-affirming sports can be. In an instant, you’re on top and, just as quickly as it began, you’re back in the shadows.
The closest professional comparison I can think of is the Phoenix Suns from the mid- to late-2000s. They threw defense out the window and played a style that dictated a shot within the first few seconds of a position. If they missed, they missed. But they were going to sprint down the court and make sure the other team couldn’t get set defensively. It was all about hitting them first. Unfortunately, those Suns teams never even made the finals. They had the impact of lightning, but lacked the staying power of thunder (the Seattle Sonics still existed then. Please don’t think that was an Oklahoma City related pun). They are looked upon kindly for opening up the NBA and returning it to an entertaining brand of basketball, breaking the defensive stranglehold the San Antonio Spurs and Detroit Pistons held on the game during that era. They reminded us of how much we loved the fast break.
So I’m hoping that the Cougars make some noise in the Big East. I’m hoping that they’re able to tell recruits Hakeem Olajuwon and Clyde Drexler both played there. I’m hoping that they’ll get athletes in the building and run other Big East teams off the court because they know they’ll lose if they try to lock it down into the old grind of amateurism. I’m hoping that they’ll remember how college basketball can be fun outside of March and give biased professional fans like myself something to look forward to.
November 7, 2011
Much has been said about this performance and, in particular, the energy between Billie Holiday and Lester Young. Many knew of a intense past between them, more than likely romantic and undeniably emotional. Both were tragic symbols of jazz’s legacy of substance abuse; Holiday died of liver cirrhosis with $0.70 left in her bank account and needles smuggled into her room. Young, a pioneering bridge between swing and cool, drank himself to death.
Although this song is a standard, Holiday imbues it with her blues sensibility that changes the emotion of a tune whenever it’s performed. When she sings, the listener understands that it’s not what you say, but how you say it. We’re just grateful that she’s opening up to us for a few minutes.
Young’s solo starts around the 2-minute mark. He doesn’t play complex bop patterns. Instead he swings a slow, nostalgic and tender blues.
The way Holiday looks at him is the way we all hope somebody else looks at us; there is pain in her smile, a hint of regret and sly glance that says, “You know I always loved you.” There is warmth and you can feel the distance being bridged, if only for 36 seconds. Young closes his eyes and lets his saxophone say what the heart can’t force into words. He gently slides back into the chair that the moment made it worth standing up from in the first place.
(Source: youtube.com)
October 16, 2011
There is something in San Francisco called the “49-Mile Scenic Drive” and the signs for it feature a 1960s-style pelican pointing you in the right direction.
Eventually, you end up on the Pacific coast. The end of the world. I’m probably reading too much into it, but I get a weird feeling that I’m not just at the end of the world, but at the end of it All. Everything I’ve ever been able to conceive of is at my back and in front of me is an ocean whose water I’ve never felt.
I walked around the tideline tonight at sunset and got my shoes covered in water. Despite all of the loneliness and self-doubt I feel out here, I sensed that I was in the right place and time for my life. Probably because there isn’t another time when we can throw caution to the wind, say “Fuck it” and see what else is out there. I threw off my shoes and let the tide overtake my ankles.
A gull to my right took flight and the sun cracked through the clouds, already shining in lands beyond.
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Look at this Warriors fan.
