Portrait of a Division as a Young Man Part IV: AFC South

I've decided that I will not be doing an NFC equivalent of this, so this will wrap up the divisional series. Anyway, to business:

The AFC South is the most one-sided division in the AFC, if not the NFL as a whole. Last year's (apparently) fluky Tennessee team notwithstanding, the Colts almost always have a clear edge in the division race and have for years. The one constant for the Colts- and, by extension, the division- has been Peyton Manning. No big surprise, there. Other factors come and go for Indianapolis- the running game (with Edge), defense (good periodically, terrible often), Marvin Harrison, Tony Dungy- but Manning has been the steady hand, as consistently good on the field as he is consistently annoying in advertisements. The Colts' modus operandi is the shootout: they favor the no-huddle, heavy passing, and, defensively, rely on hit-or-miss tactics (namely, Dwight Freeney and Robert Mathis rushing the passer, when each is severely undersized and terrible against the run). This leaves the South in essentially two camps: the Texans and Colts, on the one hand, follow roughly the same model (with vastly different results), while the Jaguars and Titans both depend on a more conservative approach, with defense and ball control taking the forefront.

My prediction:
1. Colts, 14-2
2. Houston, 9-7
3. Jacksonville, 8-8
4. Tennessee, 6-10
I expect the Colts to very seriously contend for the Super Bowl spot- they ought to at least reach the conference championship game, and I figure they have as good a shot at the league championship as anybody, if not better. They've struggled recently, but a good loss should get that out of their systems. If they drop one they should win, expect them to come out strong in the playoffs. I think Indy matches up well against the Bengals and Chargers, but might have a bit more trouble with the Patriots or Steelers. We'll see, I suppose.

Players

Division's signature: Reggie Wayne, WR, Indianapolis Colts. Wayne exemplifies the importance of the passing game to this division, and he is just about as consistent personally as the Colts are collectively. He has a steady, excellent game, and that's just what's expected of him.

No honorable mentions this time- my brain am not working too goodly.

Best overall: Jeff Saturday, C, Colts. As good a player at his position as anyone, Saturday is very tough and very, very smart. he's been doing this for a long time, folks, and few do it nearly so well.

Well, it should be no surprise that my next pick is...

MVP: Peyton Manning, QB, Colts. That's right, a Colts whitewash. Eh. They're the only team I think is worth having an MVP in this division. Still doesn't mean I like this guy.

Portrait of a Division As a Young Man Part III: AFC West

The AFC West, more than any other division, has been defined in the recent past by its absolute lack of clutch play. Last year, the Broncos had a historic collapse and ultimately ceded the division title to the Chargers- and speaking of the Chargers, few teams have had as much talent and as little postseason success as San Diego. Only a few years ago, San Diego was in possession of the game's best receiving tight end (Antonio Gates), its best running back (LaDainian Tomlinson), and a quarterback in the top handful of passers (Drew Brees). Despite that, and a dominating front seven on defense, the Chargers failed and ultimately let Brees walk in favor of Philip Rivers. Don't mistake me, Rivers is a decent player, but Brees has since joined the trifecta of elite quarterbacks- Manning and Brady being the other two. So, welcome to Chokesville! I present to you- the AFC West.

My Prediction:
1. San Diego Chargers, 11-5
2. Denver Broncos, 10-6
3. Kansas City Chiefs, 4-12
4. Oakland Raiders, 3-13
That's right, folks, I expect another epic choke by the Broncos, who currently have the same record as the Chargers. I expect Denver to blink, and the Chargers, I think, will more or less be handed the division. The Raiders and Chiefs are terrible as always, and I really could care less if I end up being accurate on those two. I do think that Denver will get a wildcard spot, along with Pittsburgh (since they lost to Cincinnati and probably invalidated my previous prediction for the North). I don't know that either of these teams will do much in the postseason- their histories are against them. In fact, I would be highly un-surprised if both lost in the first round.

Players (again, no repeats)

Division's signature: LaDainian Tomlinson, HB, San Diego Chargers. I'm sticking with this pattern of good but choke-tastic, so I figured I'd go with the man who had about five or six seasons of utterly dominant play but consistently gets injured or plays ineffectively in the playoffs. Tomlinson used to be the best combination of agility, power, and speed in the league, but has quickly degenerated into a Bill Walton-like figure, valuable when healthy but oft-injured.
Honorable mentions: Philip Rivers, QB, Chargers, who is another choke artist in the playoffs; Shawne Merriman, LB, Chargers- he hasn't been the same this year.

Best overall: Elvis Dumervil, OLB, Denver Broncos. This one is a bit tricky, because the mantle of best player in the West has changed quite a bit lately- not too long ago, I would have been tempted to name Merriman, Gates, or Tomlinson, but Dumervil was on a real tear this year. That's about it- I don't have much else to say about him.
Honorable mentions: Antonio Gates, TE, Chargers; Brandon Marshall, WR, Broncos.

MVP: Jamal Williams, NT, Chargers. This might seem like an odd choice for MVP- how many defensive lineman ever get consideration for the real award, let alone nose tackles?- but the fact is that Jamal Williams is the biggest difference-maker for the Chargers. When he plays, they have a dominant run defense: the man is almost impossible to move off the ball, even with two or three blockers (that 350-pound frame comes in very handy for that), and he is surprisingly quick for such a large man. I think the difference is especially evident if you compare two significant games against Pittsburgh from the last few years- in October of 2006, the Steelers could do nothing right on offense. Not even Alan Faneca and Jeff Hartings could do anything to slow down Williams, and they were each among the top two or three at their positions that year. Williams had six tackles and a sack, despite the notorious difficulty of producing any sort of numbers from the nose. This year, the Chargers-Steelers game became a shootout, with Rashard Mendenhall rushing for well over a hundred yards- and Jamal Williams did not play. Williams changes games, make no mistake.
Honorable mention: Kyle Orton, QB, Broncos, shockingly. He actually played very well through the first half, before starting to unravel against Pittsburgh. I would also put Rivers here, but he is a better fit for signature player.

Floyd and Paulie

I just read over on The Rumble that Paulie Malignaggi (who, if you don't know, is a loudmouthed junior welterweight) and Floyd Mayweather, Sr., plus some others, have been throwing around steroid accusations about Pacquiao. I found the most asinine of them all to come from Malignaggi, who said he wasn't sure if someone of Pac's size could take punches from Cotto without chemical enhancement. For one thing, the only theoretical improvements steroids could make to your chin would be psychological (more confidence) or minuscule (a slightly stronger neck would prevent the head from whipping around quite so much). And Cotto didn't really throw much to Pacquiao's body, so stronger abdominals would have done practically nothing for Manny. Mayweather, Sr., said he wouldn't step into the ring with Pacquiao even if he was sure he could "whip" him, which, to me, sounds like an excuse established in advance for Floyd, Jr.

Still, steroid accusations are unusual for boxers, because, with the exception of heavyweights, most fighters do not want to gain weight, in order to stay at the lowest weight class they can. Steroids would be counterproductive, especially because the primary advantage derived from them is the ability to recover faster between workouts. Steroids do nothing to supercharge existing muscles (which, based on depictions in pop culture, a lot of people think). They only allow you to add more muscle, faster. Admittedly, Pacquiao's ability to move up so fluidly in weight looks a bit odd, but it's worth remembering the following two things:
1.) He has been a professional boxer since his late teens. That means he has been in training for over a decade, and, what's more, in training to fight at low weights. It takes a lot of effort to maintain a body weight of 120 pounds or less for a man, even a short man with a slight frame. It's not so very unusual that someone whose livelihood depends on low weight would weigh an artificially low amount.
2.) He was, in all likelihood, malnourished as a young man. This is a common problem with poor athletes- before they start to make money, they often have an underdeveloped musculature. Take a look at the Nike Hoop Summit games- almost invariably, big men who come from impoverished nations will be disturbingly skinny. Pacquiao fought professionally for the first time at a weight of 106 pounds- that is simply not a feasible weight for 99% of men on earth. It's not unnatural that he's been able to add weight, given that his frame has probably been capable of supporting the extra mass all along.

If I'm wrong, and he has been juicing, I'd be more than willing to admit being mistaken, but it's often irritating to me that people choose to ignore the obvious suspects (in the NFL, for instance) and go after the most unlikely of targets- a small Filipino prizefighter, for example.

Hyperopia

We said that Manny Pacquiao could not do it. We said that he could not move up in weight and still expect to compete- not when he started his professional career at 106 pounds. We said that Oscar De La Hoya was a washed-up old man, and that beating him didn't prove anything. We said that Ricky Hatton would beat him up, Ricky, who was bigger and stronger and heavier, whose chin was iron. Pacquiao would be unable to hurt him.

Well, no- he hurt Ricky worse than anyone ever had. But "Fatton" was a perfect match for Pacquiao's aggressive, slashing style. Pacquiao wouldn't have a chance against a more technical opponent, especially one who was even heavier. Cotto would beat him. Cotto would reassert the normal workings of the boxing ladder. Cotto would prove that the big man still has the advantage. Well, no- Pacquiao was simply too fast and too explosive for Cotto.

And, I suppose, a few of us might be saying that Floyd Mayweather is too smart, too technically perfect, and athletic enough to pick away at Pacquiao until the end. He won't be a rough, unpolished brawler like Hatton, and he won't be stupid enough to trade with Pacquiao like Cotto. He'll poke and peck, and Manny will be forced into inefficacy.

But I think this is symptomatic of two things: first, that Pacquiao amazingly, improbably remains underrated, and second, that we have a tendency to assume that no current fighters are as talented as the boxers of the semi-legendary past. We never expect to see another Muhammad Ali, and that might be true. But, if it is true, it is more a truth about the heavyweight division than about boxing in general. And if we assume that boxing is dying out, that only proves our ethnocentrism: boxing is dying in America, driven out by the ascendancy of football, basketball, and (increasingly) mixed martial arts. But boxing is growing in eastern Europe and remains popular in Latin America and other locations often overlooked by the American crowd.

There is, I think, a similar tendency in almost all fields that acquire a devoted fan base, in sports, film, literature, and music. Few people, if any, would say that Michael Jordan is likely to come again, or Jim Brown, or William Shakespeare, or Elvis Presley. There is something inherent in the human psyche that makes the past seem brighter than the future. But sometimes, every so often, a piece of that legend will resurface and make itself known. I believe that Manny Pacquiao is like that. The most obvious comparison is probably Roberto Duran, a lightweight with a deserved reputation for punching power but an overlooked set of technical skills. But I'm not even sure that such lofty praise is an exact fit for Pacquiao- in terms of his fighting style, he is very much like Duran, but his career arc is probably unique in boxing history. The only close analogue I can think of is Roy Jones, Jr., who rose from middleweight to heavyweight and won a title. Even this, though, falls so far short of the reality of Pacquiao- the fight with Cotto occurred at almost half again his original fighting weight, nearly 150 pounds against just over 100 in his debut, and he has won a title in just about every division between flyweight and welterweight, and he has done so in dominating fashion, forcing De La Hoya to throw in the towel, scoring one of the most brutal knockouts imaginable over Hatton, and forcing the referee to step in against Cotto in the twelfth, though, really, it could have been stopped in any of the last three or four rounds. Pacquiao is a genuine, living, breathing piece of history, whether he beats Mayweather or not. He has just put together one of the most incredible strings of victories in the history of the sport, and that ought to be recognized, because it will certainly be remembered.

Fight Night

Given the hugeness of this event, I'm going to be doing a round by round sort of recap of the Pacquiao-Cotto fight. My prediction is a TKO victory for Pacquiao late in the eleventh round.

Round 1: Mostly a feeling out sort of a round, but the last twenty seconds or so became electric. Previous to that point, I had seen only one attempt at a power punch, a slashing right hook by Pac-man, but during the waning seconds, both fighters opened up and threw viciously. Not many of the blows landed, but it was the most exciting part of the round. I give the first to Cotto on the basis of his jabbing and a good body blow or two that landed late. He's looking to be the more disciplined thus far, with Pacquiao more active. (10-9, Cotto)

Round 2: Pacquiao appears to be trying to draw Cotto into a more open fight. He's throwing and spinning around Miguel, who seems to have opened up his offense a bit. Cotto landed a brutal combination to the ribs late, and has Manny in the corner briefly, but Pac escapes and the round probably goes to him- although I think it could be either way (typing and watching is hard for me to do at the same time, especially since I had to recap the first during this round). I'll try to keep up better next round. (19-19)

Round 3: Cotto looks to take it to Manny early this round, with jabs and straight rights. About thirty seconds in, and Manny is fighting back a bit more. Little knockdown for Pac at about fifty seconds in- Cotto's gloves brushed the canvas, but he did not go down. He has Manny on the ropes, but that's a good escape by the Filipino. Manny, as always, looks to value aggression over defense here. Ooh, strong hooks to the body, but blocked by Pacquiao. They're really throwing leather now, with less than a minute left. I guess the edge has to go to Manny because of the knockdown, but the most significant punches have been landed by Cotto, particularly after the 2:30 mark. If not for that knockdown, this is Cotto's fight so far, but as is, Manny might be as much as three points up. (29-27, Pacquiao)

Round 4: Cotto should be looking to box Manny, I think, to make sure he gets a point back. And, yeah, he seems to be working the jab and left to the body. Manny has been backing away from Cotto to this point, all through the fight. Some brawling now, about halfway through. Oh man, does Pacquiao have fast hands. He's thrown some mostly-deflected flurries, but that's probably going to look good to the judges. Cotto has him on the ropes now, and this is where he wants to be. It looked to me as though the hooks were getting in under Manny's elbows into his midsection. Oh man, another knockdown for Pacquiao. His power isn't as consistent as Cotto's, but it is a lot more explosive. Round ends, and, once again, Pacquiao might have stolen a round on the basis of a knockdown- I certainly thought Cotto had been winning until the end. Overall, to this point, it seems as though Manny has been able to force Cotto into a brawl, and Cotto has been too eager to do so. He needs to work his technical boxing and be more patient. (39-35, Pacquiao)

Round 5: It's undeniably Manny's fight to this point, due to those knockdowns. Cotto doesn't really look hurt, though. He's looking good early in this round. This has had a really fast pace so far, which probably favors Pacquiao. Looks like Manny is smelling a little blood, now, a minute in. He's getting more and more aggressive, and Cotto has not been able to really make him pay. Cotto's back to working the jab and the body hooks. Looks like he kind of winged Manny, but didn't hurt him. Cotto's slugging too much- I think he's playing into Manny's hands. Manny is once again on the ropes, but he fights off them with a good flurry of uppercuts and hooks. Manny has started to dance a bit, trying to make Cotto work at his pace. This is not the sort of fight I thought it would be. I expected it tighter. I really don't know who this round goes to, but the pace was definitely in Pacquiao's favor. The judges might see Cotto as more effective, however. (49-45, Pacquiao)

Round 6: Cotto is staggered early, but it might just have been a slip- I couldn't see what happened. Cotto is stalking Manny right now, but Pacquiao won't let him get too comfortable. Manny just ripped him to the ribs with a decent hook. Back and forth to this point, and Cotto briefly switches to southpaw, before going right back to orthodox. Manny's had all the significant shots so far, a bit over half done. Cotto looks uneasy, and Pacquiao is backing him up into the ropes. Clinch, and break. Oh, Cotto is not looking too good. Pacquaio's speed looks to be telling. Another back-and-forth switch to southpaw for Cotto. Decent left to the cheek from Cotto. Pacquaio is roughing him up though, against the ropes, but the situation reverses again and the round ends. Back and forth, wild round, but it goes to Manny on my card. (59-54, Pacquiao)

Round 7: Missed the opening of this round, so we'll see what I can figure out. For the most part, it looks pretty even. From what I can see, Manny is pecking away at Cotto's guard, and with decent effectiveness, it seems. Cotto has been unable to hurt the smaller man. Pacquiao has not had that problem. Cotto looks to open up a bit, but then backs off. Manny is now starting to stalk him, and has hit him with some decent shots, including a thudding right to the belly just now. Looks to be his round, though I missed over a minute. (69-63, Pacquiao)

Round 8: Right now, I have Cotto down six points, and it looks bad for the Puerto Rican. Pacquiao has had speed and pop on his side to date, with Cotto's superior size and strength being reduced to plodding jabs and blocked power punches. We start, and Cotto looks a little bit anxious. He's firing the jab out nicely. Cotto opens up again, but it looks like "sound and fury, signifying nothing." Manny's right has been a little more active than I expected, and it's caused Cotto to develop a quasi-reflexive shoulder twitch. Cotto does not look good. He's backing and covering up. His offense has been handcuffed by Pacquaio's, although I don't think he's been seriously hurt. He's being smothered, mostly. Ooh, he got tagged a little bit, but the legs are steady. He's forced to clinch to get separated. Manny all the way in this round. I think the biggest question is no longer whether Manny wins, but whether he finishes Cotto or not. If he stops him, I think he earns some serious points toward all-time great status. (79-72, Pacquiao)

Round 9: Cotto looks urgent now. He knows he needs something drastic. Cotto has to clinch to save himself against the ropes. Oh, Pacquiao is swinging wide now, and Cotto is just holding on. he's being dominated. I'm expecting a TKO in the next couple of rounds. It's getting so close to a stoppage. The crowd knows it, too. It's looking very ominous for Cotto. Manny has looked dominant throughout, with only a couple of rounds even close. Cotto looks frozen out there. He has no answer whatsoever to Pacquiao's athleticism. (89-81, Pacquiao)

Round 10: Cotto needs to come out and swing. He has nothing left, and nothing much to lose. I think I'm only just beginning to appreciate what we have in Manny Pacquiao. Anyway, Cotto does look more aggressive right now, hoping to stretch out Manny before the end. To his credit, he doesn't look half bad, either. Pacquiao is starting to move back into the driver's seat at about a minute in, though. Cotto does seem to have slowed Manny's barrage, but now he's stuck being a pure boxer, and that's not going to save him. Pacquiao with a combination with just under a minute remaining. Pacquiao has definitely slowed, though whether he's preparing for another flurry or actually tired is unclear. Cotto doesn't look especially tired. Not as dominant a round, but still one that I think goes to Pacquiao. (99-90, Pacquiao)

Round 11: This is the one I predicted to end it. We'll see- Cotto might have used up whatever he had in the last round to keep Pacquiao off of him, but Pac also looks to have emptied his gas tank a bit. Manny might be content to coast now, although that doesn't seem like his personality. Pacquio ripped him there with a right-left. Cotto keeps witching his stance- that's the third there-and-back stance switch for him. Manny is stalking once again, and Cotto seems to be trying to hold on. This might be it, this might be it. Cotto was against the ropes, but he's back off. Pacquiao back to the hunt. Cotto has stayed out of really serious trouble so far. Pacquiao opens up again, but Cotto's chin is still holding up. Cotto avoids Manny's wide swings. Looks like he's survived my guess. Yep, there's the bell. He did lose the round thoroughly, though. (109-99, Pacquiao)

Round 12: Cotto has essentially two options now. He can either forgo defense altogether and let loose, hoping to catch Pacquiao just right, or he can hold on and try to avoid the stoppage. I know which I'd prefer. Manny seems to be pursuing the knockout. He hasn't truly hurt Cotto since the second knockdown- Cotto has had to cover up, but he's managed to absorb most everything. And there's the stoppage! I need to see the replay on that: I couldn't see what led up to it, other than Cotto ducking in the corner. As they shake hands and hug, I can see that Cotto has a gash over the left eye, which suggests either a good right hook, or an awkward left. I want to see the replay of that shot- it seems likely to me that it was one big shot that caused the TKO. I was off by one round, which I don't think is too bad for a fight like this, with so many variables- the catchweight of 145, Cotto's mental state after the shaky Clottey fight, Pacquiao's confidence-versus-complacence questions, and so forth. It looks as though the ref stepped in a bit inappropriately- yes, Cotto, was hurt and ducked down, but he was still fully aware and just trying to protect the eye. Either way, he was knocked down twice and thoroughly beaten. This is crazy: Pacquiao just claimed his seventh title. He started at 112 pounds in 1997, and has claimed more or less every belt on the way up to this current weight class. I think later I'll try to do a post to process this, but for now, I can only say that I would never have believed he could do this before the fight against De La Hoya, or even before the fight against Hatton. After that one, though, and especially this one, I could never bet against him. I'd take him at any weight class he cares to fight in, now. He dominated Cotto completely. Unbelievable.

Note: I guess I was wrong about the cut- it came during the tenth, but it wasn't really bleeding until the final round. I'm still not sure what caused it.

Portrait of a Division As a Young Man Part II: AFC East

Unlike the home of my true NFL love, the Pittsburgh Steelers, the division of my Team Beta has a scatterbrained and eclectic feel to it. Lacking a unified personality, the East has been chaotic over the last few years, due at least in part to the peculiar nature of its premiere team, the New England Patriots (my aforementioned second-place team). The Patriots have not stuck with the same blueprint over the years, like Pittsburgh and Baltimore, and thus, the nature of the East has been fluid and mercurial. In their first championship season (2001 for those with short memories), the Patriots relied primarily on a resilient defense that excelled at keeping the opponent out of the endzone, and, oddly enough, the kicker. Tom Brady played his first games that year, and performed respectably- his numbers were above average, and he certainly did manage to win games. The next few years saw the defense improve to the league's best in terms of scoring, then age and decline, with this year representing a possible renaissance. Brady, meanwhile, developed into a statistical juggernaut while keeping his knack for winning, particularly after the arrival of Randy Moss and Wes Welker, both of whom were acquired for highway robber prices (a fourth and a second round pick, respectively). Simultaneously, the public perception of the team changed just as rapidly: from the heroic underdog, wearing red, white, and blue in the wake of September 11th (and beating the offensive spectacle of the St. Louis Rams), by 2004, they had become a dynastic group of Tim Duncans, for lack of a better term. That image lasted only for a few years, as the team brought on more and more players who had previously had "character issues," epitomized by the arrival of Moss. The metamorphosis was complete after the incident of Spygate, which calls for a separate post to deal with. Suffice it to say, the Patriots became known as a corrupt organization with a sinister, Emperor Palpatine-esque madman at the helm.

During this entire time, the primary challenger in the division has vacillated somewhat, but the major player seems to be the New York Jets, whose play is consistently up-and-down, which is something of a paradox, but not a very interesting one. In any case, the point remains the same: the AFC East is chameleon-like, a shifting, enigmatic beast.

My Prediction
1. New England Patriots, 12-4
2. New York Jets, 9-7
3. Miami Dolphins, 6-10
4. Buffalo Bills, 5-11

I have to believe that the Dolphins will eventually win outside the division, but not enough to matter. The Bills will be fortunate if they win more than another two games, and I don't see the Jets doing significantly better than 5-3 the rest of the way. The Patriots, however, should contend for a bye, although I'm not sure whether they will get it. I don't expect any other team from this division to make the playoffs- it's more likely that the wild cards will come from the North and West, in my opinion (probably whichever of Cincinnati and Pittsburgh flinches and the Chargers in the West, assuming Denver holds on). I half-expect the Patriots to advance to the championship round of the AFC, but I don't quite see them as a Super Bowl contender. At least, not yet.


Players (as with last time, no repeats, even on honorable mention)

Division's signature: Wes Welker, WR, New England Patriots. It might seem odd that I would choose Welker over much more visible players, including the other high-profile receiver in New England, Randy Moss, but the fact is that Welker typifies a certain kind of player who often appears in the East: a player who seems like a gadget-type or otherwise quirky afterthought, but turns out to settle into the perfect role in the perfect system. The others I think fit this bill include Deion Branch and David Givens, both ex-Pats receivers, and, in a different sense, Curtis Martin, who wasn't the most talented running back, but by far the most consistent and reliable, with both the Patriots and the Jets.
Honorable mention: Chad Penning, QB, Miami Dolphins (current injury status notwithstanding). There really wasn't anyone else I could think of that wouldn't be better placed elsewhere.

Best overall: Vince Wilfork, NT, Patriots. There are other tempting prospects, but since (SPOILER- but not really) Tom Brady is an obvious choice for MVP, I found myself thinking more and more of the big dude in the center of the Patriots defense. If Richard Seymour was still in-division, he would have gotten the call, but since his exile to football purgatory (also known as Oakland), Wilfork has taken up his mantle as the go-to-guy on the defensive line. He's massive, tough, and surprisingly athletic, which translates to being immensely difficult to block. Not a whole lot else can be said, other than that he does what he's supposed to consistently, which will not often show up in the box score for a nose tackle.
Honorable mentions: Randy Moss, WR, Patriots; Nick Mangold, C, New York Jets; Allen Faneca, G, Jets

MVP: Tom Brady, QB, Patriots. There's simply no other choice: the nigh-invulnerable Patriots became eminently mortal during his injury absence, and no other quarterback besides Peyton Manning has as cerebral an approach and as complete a grasp of his offense.
Honorable mentions: no one else comes close. Sorry to be so cliche, I suppose.

I also apologize for the clean sweep of Patriots, but I'm just being honest.

Portrait of a Division As a Young Man Part I: AFC North

I'm currently planning to do either a four-part or eight-part series on the various NFL divisions (the number will depend on whether I decide to do the NFC). The AFC North being home to my beloved Steelers, I figured I would start here. Heads up on how this whole series will go: brief opening comments, a projected order of finish, playoff prospects, and then a list of the division's signature, best overall, and most valuable players. So- to business.

The AFC North probably has the strongest personality out of any of the league's divisions, primarily because it has been dominated by two similar teams over the last decade. Either the Steelers and the Ravens have been involved in the divisional race every year in the new millennium, and each of those years, one or the other (or both) has made the playoffs. They have done it primarily through physically imposing 3-4 defenses and power running offenses, although each is undergoing something of an offensive metamorphosis, with Joe Flacco and Ben Roethlisberger assuming greater and greater roles. Thus, the North has been marked by intense, physical play which is only exacerbated by the fact that each team considers each of the others in the division to be a true and hated rival. This is actually a bit unusual: most teams have one or two in-division teams specifically marked as "rivals," but the teams in the North always insist that each of the others is truly an enemy. Thus, even a lopsided pairing like Browns-Ravens or Browns-Steelers takes on psychological import.

My Prediction:
1. Pittsburgh, 11-5
2. Cincinnati, 10-6
3. Baltimore, 9-7
4. Cleveland, 3-13

I expect the Bengals to fall off over the next few weeks, and Baltimore to pick up some slack, although I don't Baltimore will challenge the top two down the stretch, or at least not seriously. I expect Cincinnati to get a wild card slot, but I think they'll lose in the first or second round. I'm afraid of my own bias toward Pittsburgh, so I'll be a bit vaguer with regards to their playoff hopes: I think they'll win one game, meaning they'll either lose in the divisional round (if they don't get a bye) or in the championship game (if they do), likely to either Indianapolis or New England. Now that I've said this, odds are that I will be ridiculously wrong, but I don't particularly care.


Players (Note: no repeats, even for honorable mentions)

Division's signature: Ray Lewis, ILB, Baltimore Ravens. Much as I can't stand Ray-Ray, he has been the most visible player at the division's most critical position, inside linebacker in the 3-4. Defense defines this division, whether as a dominant unit (Pittsburgh, Baltimore) or as an Achilles' heel (Cincinnati, which has seen high-octane offenses go to waste because of it). Ray is declining quickly, but he does still manage to at least appear important.
Honorable mentions: James Harrison, OLB, Steelers; James Farrior, ILB, Steelers

Best overall: Troy Polamalu, SS, Pittsburgh Steelers. You can accuse me of bias if you want, but Polamalu has been so relentlessly clutch and preternaturally aware of the game unfolding around him that I consider him better than Ed Reed, who is, to be fair, unquestionably an excellent player, as well. Polamalu elevates the Steeler defense simply by being present- even when slowed by injury, his instinctive coverage skill makes him ominous to opposing passers.
Honorable mentions: Reed, SS, Baltimore Ravens; Haloti Ngata, NT, Baltimore Ravens

MVP: Ben Roethlisberger, QB, Steelers. Again, I am susceptible to accusations of bias, but the Steelers are the most successful team in the division (and, in fact, the league's history), and Roethlisberger has overseen a shift in the Steelers offensive philosophy from the punishing ground game of the Bettis era to a no-huddle heavy, vertical and mid-range passing attack, and he orchestrated a nigh-on perfect Super Bowl winning drive last year. He is not the Steelers' best player, or the real face of the franchise, but losing him would be more significant to them even than losing Polamalu, Harrison, or Farrior. Without him, the offense becomes almost non-existent.
Honorable mentions: Carson Palmer, QB, Bengals; Cedric Benson, RB, Bengals.

Something That Bothers Me...

...Is the way people tend to define music by racial categories. And I don't just mean the people who think of rap as "black music," though that is obviously a major instance. The white counterpart to that one, I suppose, is certain aspects of rock. Obviously, people remember black rockers like Hendrix, Chuck Berry, and Bo Diddley, but it seems that people assume that later stuff (post '70s) became the sole province of white guys. And, true enough, there's not a whole lot of black metal-heads, but it still shouldn't be defined in that way.

But the one that bothers me the most is the idea that white men playing blues are doing something wrong, or being tacky or something. For instance, Pitchfork Media says of Guy Blakeslee: "His white blues jones... at best was a hard sell, at worst insufferable." I really don't see the reasoning behind that. Yes, the blues started with black musicians in the Mississippi Delta, but classical music started in Europe, and I think that anyone who claimed that an African-American violinist was "insufferable" would be very quickly shouted down. Please don't misunderstand: I am not interested in discussing any double standards, real or imaginary, in race relations. I am only interested in defending my right to enjoy my favorite genre of music. After all, the blues itself claims ancestry in both European and African musical styles, and its primary instruments (guitar, harmonica, and piano) have origins in Europe. That's part of what makes it so appealing: the ubiquity of blue notes and call-and-response structures are taken from African music, and some melodic and instrumental elements come from folk music of North America. It's a collaborative sort of musical style.

In closing, I just want to point out the fact that many modern musical genres owe a great deal to the blues- rock, R&B, hip-hop, some sub-genres of folk- and that, if it's okay to be interested in those styles of music, it should also be alright to be interested in their common ancestor. I've never heard someone argue that it was "insufferable" for white people to love rock, and I don't like hearing it about blues.

The Jordan Monopoly

A recent post on Free Darko made use of the term "post post-Jordan." I thought about that for a while, and I think it's a very useful insight into the current state of the NBA.

That Michael Jordan changed the nature of the beast is undeniable. That his legacy has been beneficial to the league is questionable. In the wake of Jordan, every team naturally wanted to find a doppelganger for him: a viciously competitive, relentlessly clutch, athletically dominant perimeter player with will and skill enough to force his way to victory. We have seen a number of these kind of experiments, from McGrady, to Carter, to Bryant. Their success has been, como se dice, "up and down." True, Bryant has almost a fistful of rings, but he never did it in quite the same manner as Jordan- Jordan had a Pippen, not a Shaq or Pau (I'm not trying to suggest that Gasol is better than Pippen, just to highlight the lack of a dominant post presence in the Jordan-era Bulls). Even someone like KG is a product of the search for the neo-Jordan: he is a ferocious defender, used to be incredibly athletic, has great mental toughness and will, and... has an offensive game that probably took away from his maximum utility. Honestly, the man is very nearly seven feet tall and his primary move is a turnaround jumper. His post moves are almost non-existent. You can't tell me that this has nothing to do with the idealization of guard play during Garnett's formative years.

Meanwhile, the latest batch of exciting players have been far different- Rajon Rondo, whose jump shot could be kindly described as "lacking," Dwight Howard, who is dramatically incomplete as a player, but interesting nonetheless, Chris Paul, an agile, electric combination of the pure passing point guard and the AI type, and, yes, LeBron, whose skills are good but overshadowed by his simply psychotic athleticism. These are the post-post-Jordan players, and they are far more intriguing than their immediate predecessors.

The post-Jordan types were simply an attempt to recreate the one player proven to be most effective in the league's history, a freakish amalgam of skills, character traits, and innate gifts that will, in all likelihood, not be resurfacing any time soon. The new guys are quite different: they represent a new mindset for many teams, who are willing to pursue what actually appears, instead of attempting to manufacture what has disappeared. If the post-Jordan players were (to varying degrees) failed attempts to find one man capable of dominating all facets of the game, the post-post-Jordan crew consists of players willing to embrace their highly specific talents in creative and effective ways. The last generation of stars represents homogenization, the new, diversification of talent.

Jimmy vs. Jimi: A Rankly Amateur Perspective

If you talk to someone knowledgeable about popular rock'n'roll music throughout the last half century or so, odds are they will identify one of the following three men as the best (mainstream) rock guitarist: Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix, or Jimmy Page. Now, I think that Clapton, while good, is overrated. I think I have mentioned this before.

Despite my ever-increasing interest in and knowledge of more obscure music- at least, that's the current trend- I remain a classic-rock and blues fan at heart. Which leaves me to decide between the homophone brothers as the undisputed king (to clarify: a homophone is a word that sounds identical to another, as distinct from a homonym, which is the same word with at least two meanings. All this to say that "Jimmy" and "Jimi" sound the same without being spelled the same).

The way I see it, the talent level is virtually identical. Many gush about Hendrix as though his playing was head and shoulders above all others, but that's simply a mistake. To me, this is the essential difference: the unique thing about Hendrix is that his playing often makes me forget I'm hearing a string instrument; the unique thing about Page is that his playing often makes me hyper-aware that I'm hearing a string instrument. At times, Hendrix's guitar sounds stop registering as "guitar" and simply become "sounds." Weird, intriguing, fluid sounds. Hendrix was legendary as a sonic innovator, doing all that he could to broaden the scope of the attack. I am thinking of the last minute and a half of "All Along the Watchtower" in particular, but a lot of other songs apply.

By way of contrast, Page's contributions to the rock sound came primarily in his production, with his ambient miking and reverse-echo recording techniques. His playing itself was surprisingly orthodox: a great deal of pure blues with varying levels of distortion. The genius of his riffs is their groove, weight, and staggering feel. However, his soloing is another matter. Page was a pioneer of guitar soloing, employing traditional blues feel in wild, fast, and innovative ways- Eddie Van Halen cites Page's "Heartbreaker" solo (heavy on hammer-ons and wild finger work) as a major influence on his own two-hand tapping methods. And this is exactly where Page makes me so intensely aware of the nature of a guitar. When I hear his solos- especially "Since I've Been Loving You," "Achilles Last Stand," and "Whole Lotta Love"- I can't help but think about fingers fretting, bending, and shifting. By contrast, Hendrix makes me think of the undoubtedly hilarious reaction spaced-out hippies must have had to his seemingly impossible sounds.

Ultimately, I would be remiss not to comment on the fact that I have no real right to judge between the two- I'm not even a guitarist (I just play one on the internet). And so, I'm content to leave the issue of "best" undecided, and simply declare Page to be my favorite. Psychedelia is nice now and again, but the blues is home. In closing, I will quote Dave Grohl, who once said "Jimi Hendrix was a genius on fire... Jimmy Page was a genius possessed." Apt, and much more succinct than this was.

Football's Progressive Conservatism

For once, Chuck Klosterman reading has led me to do a post not related to music- he just wrote an article about football that was quite good. I think I'll be buying the new book.

His thesis was that football has "conservative values" alongside liberal tendencies, and that this explains the overwhelming popularity of the sport in America. I can kind of see his point: while its schemes, technology, and rules change rapidly, its self-image always revolves around the idea of blue-collared tough guys who are nevertheless morally upstanding. I should note that these archetypes are more stereotypical than typical: conservatism does not depend on anti-intellectualism and obscurantism any more than liberalism depends on aimless innovation.

I can see some other connections, too. For instance, even as the rate of passing plays continues to rise (hardly any teams run more often than pass anymore, as even Pittsburgh now passes upwards of thirty times per game), the personalities around the game continue to insist on the vital importance of the running game. Now, I don't believe that these people are wrong- a successful running game remains the surest method of controlling the ball and, by extension, the game- but it's an almost schizophrenic situation, in which the game is thriving on pass-heavy offenses but claims to be as run-oriented as ever.

Even more intriguing is football's bizarre social structure: while it is certainly the faces of the teams who receive the most attention, financial and otherwise- quarterbacks, receivers, running backs- there are frequent celebrations of the faceless. The left tackle, for instance, is one of the most highly paid players in the game these days, as is his primary antagonist, the right defensive end. In fact, the even more obscure defensive tackle has had a minor renaissance over the last few years, with the play of Kris Jenkins, Albert Haynesworth, Vince Wilfork, and others garnering national attention. Periodically, the offensive line as a gestalt is praised- the "vaguely Marxist" collective (as described by Michael Lewis in The Blind Side) of largely anonymous laborers sometimes take center stage in media. The rhetoric of football especially praises them, declaring the trenches to be the most critical location on the field. Again, I believe that this is in fact correct, but it is the sort of observation that requires more focus and expertise than the typical football fan is likely to have.

In no other sport are the subtleties simultaneously explained and mysterious- while the typical fan, thanks to the efforts of commentators and writers, knows the huge importance of line play, he remains largely uneducated with regards to the mechanics of it. It is very rare for such a person to blame anyone except the closest lineman should a defender sack the passer, despite the fact that a number of other factors could be and often are the true reason for the result (whether a blown assignment by a teammate, a missed read by the quarterback, or simply a slow-developing play). Almost all the rules of the game tilt the field in favor of defensive linemen (the ability to change positions before the snap, the ability to rip, swim, and grab cloth, etc.), so the speed of the passing game is hugely important in their performances: anything more than four seconds is a very long time to hold off a three hundred-plus pound athletic man who can do more to you than you can to him and who can actually see the location of the ball.

Another interesting phenomenon is this: centers and tackles, on average, have the highest IQ scores of any players on the field, followed by quarterbacks, middle linebackers, guards, and then a pretty random assortment afterward. So, the most intelligent players tend to play the offensive line. However, the instructions to the offensive line are often quite simplistic, especially with zone-blocking schemes (it essentially boils down to "protect this patch of dirt"). Meanwhile, defensive linemen, ostensibly the less intelligent men, are given more complicated instructions on average- twists, stunts, gap protections, etc. How do we explain this? Why does the simple offensive line need more intelligence than the chaotic defensive line? Because the offense's primary intellectual responsibility is to respond to the complexity of the defense: it requires analysis-on-the-fly capabilities, whereas the defender simply needs to remember and execute his basic responsibility- go here at this time and by this route. After that, his assigned duty is done, and he has complete freedom to perform his particular duty that play (usually a simple pursuit of the ball).

My last observation is this: no team plays up its blue-collar simplicity and toughness quite like the Steelers, although some of the Midwestern teams come close (Vikings, Packers, Bears). Pittsburgh bills itself as a brutal running team with a vicious defense. However, since the departure of certain key running offense personnel (Jerome Bettis, Alan Faneca, and Jeff Hartings, primarily), the offense has revolved increasingly around Ben Roethlisberger, Santonio Holmes, and Hines Ward (although, in fairness, he is one of the few receivers who could be said to be key to a running game). Pittsburgh now passes as much as any other team, largely due to the inefficacy of Willie Parker and the patchwork offensive line, with Rashard Mendenhall's recent emergence being an unknown factor going forward. We'll see where that goes.

The defense, meanwhile, is even more complicated and contradictory: far from simple, Dick LeBeau's schemes are downright byzantine in their intricacy, with zone blitzes, deception, and discipline being more important to it than blind aggression or even athleticism. Even so, the majority of the defensive personnel is, in fact, that way- James Harrison and LaMarr Woodley are two of the most intimidating specimens at linebacker in the league, the defensive backs rank among the hardest hitting in the game, and the defensive line is one of the meanest and strongest around. But even the base formation, the 3-4, carries the rightful reputation of being a cerebral and unorthodox system. The modern game began with and still embraces the 4-3, but the defenses with the best reputation for toughness over the last decade- New England's from its title runs, Baltimore's, and Pittsburgh's- have all used four linebackers.

As football increasingly focuses on the most colorful and innovative actions, its rhetoric and its figureheads continue to emphasize the nuts and bolts of the game, and its anti-climactic features: its defense, which exists for the sole purpose of preventing action; the offensive linemen, who exist to prevent even defensive action; and the running game, which derives most of its benefit from the fact that it uses up time without allowing a high amount of play. Contradictory? Yes. Confusing? At times. American? Undoubtedly.

Third Blog

I'd like to vary the way I say this somewhat from my post on Philosophy For Stupid People, so...

If anyone likes to read (frankly crappy) poetry- perhaps for the lulz?- I now have a third blog for that purpose: Amateur Hour Poetry.

Vindication

I had several reasons for being excited about the debut album of the group Drummer:

1.) It involved Patrick Carney, my favorite active drummer (of The Black Keys), and was being released on his label, Audio Eagle.
2.) It was an intriguing sounding project- I had only heard one track, "Diamonds to Shake," but it had a particular vibe to it, hard and shiny and shimmering. It's a bit difficult to give the impression in words.
3.) It was a project only involving drummers. That's right- despite the consistent failure of solo projects by drummers to do well at all (I'm looking at you, Keith Moon), here was a legitimate band composed entirely of men who made their living drumming. In addition to Carney on bass, Drummer features Jamie Stillman on guitar (Teeth of the Hydra), Jon Finley on vocals and second guitar (Beaten Awake), Stephen Clements on keyboards (Houseguest), and Greg Boyd actually drumming (Ghostman). Now, I hadn't actually heard of any of these bands, with the exception of the Keys, but it was still a pretty awesome concept.

I think of it as a musical Revenge of the Nerds: the drummer, consistently the least known and least respected member of bands (although bass and keyboards sometimes claim that position), finally gets his own band... with four other outcasts.

There's an old joke about drummers:
Q: How did the drummer get fired?
A: He said, "Hey guys, let's play one of my songs."
Well, guess what? Those are the only songs in this band! And not one of them is as goofy as Ringo's masterpiece, "Octopus Garden."

The "Dynamic Rock" of Led Zeppelin

Thanks to an interview I just read of John Paul Jones, I think another piece has fallen into place for me as to why I love Led Zeppelin so very much. Jones was essentially fielding questions about Jimmy Page, and had this to say about Page's vision for the band at its inception: "He had this whole thing about 'a dynamic rock band... a whole light-and-shade thing.' Which was pivotal, and it informed every musical decision that he made."

I think that the term "dynamic" encapsulates a great deal of what Led Zeppelin was: they were a medium between the "progressive" and the static, between the theoretical meanderings of bands like King Crimson and the repetitious sort of music being played by the Rolling Stones and the like. They incorporated the soft and plaintive side of folk as well as the hyperactivity of unadulterated rock'n'roll into what was essentially a blues band. They relied on riffs and grooves, but they were improvisational within that basic construct and played variants on all of their patterns. As a result, they had both permanence and novelty. The drums locked onto a solid, powerful beat and deviated from it to add drama and musicality with gorgeous tom fills, the bass and guitar generally played the same riff, with the bass occasionally answering the drums and the guitar periodically peeling off the underlying bass for soloing and improvisational leads and grace notes.

Zeppelin's genre-mixing also underscores the theme of dynamism: acoustic folk, hard rock, and a wide range of flavors of the blues blend and yet remain distinct in their albums, which, in my opinion, makes it nonsense to apply a single label to the band (especially the almost wholly erroneous charge of being a metal band). Led Zeppelin had a great variety of colors and textures at their disposal, and they used them all admirably.

Lastly, the term "dynamic" can be used to describe the musical attitude of the band. They opted neither for the sort of supremely technical, virtuosic approach favored by prog bands such as Dream Theater and Rush, nor for the simplistic, do-it-yourself approach typical of punk and pop-rock bands (with The Clash and The Beatles being the exceptions to the rule in those categories, respectively). I do not doubt that Zeppelin had the talent to adopt the former approach, nor that they had the songwriting skills to attempt the latter. Instead, they set out to construct genuinely enjoyable (and sometimes even joyful) music that celebrated the blues and rock music that they loved while also demonstrating that rock musicians could be capable of the sort of high-level musicianship that was largely lacking from it at the time. Some of Zeppelin's material borders on a classical level of complexity (notably in "Achilles Last Stand," among others) while remaining groovy and accessible.

In essence, Jimmy Page set out to, and succeeded in, creating a group of tremendous talent, variety, and musical intelligence. And that is why Zeppelin reigns supreme in my mind.

Things I Think While Watching the Steelers

1. Please, please, please tell me Troy Polamalu is going to be alright. Even if we win tonight, if he goes down for an extended period, it's a loss.

2. One thing I respect about Ben Roethlisberger: although he often makes dumb, risky throws (as in the end of half play tonight), he at least does it in a team-oriented way. He knew that he had the arm strength to reach the endzone and that it was unlikely the Titans could return an interception for a touchdown. It was essentially a no-loss proposition in terms of points, and he was willing to take that chance at the possible expense of worse numbers for himself.

3. I am watching (through SlingBox) the New England broadcast of this game. There was a national ad for health care reform. This is a massive waste of time for New England viewers. I can't imagine a more egregious case of preaching to the choir. There ought to be a better way of fine-tuning ad campaigns.

4. As observed by the broadcast team, James Harrison is indeed an animal. He hit Bo Scaife so hard that he actually dropped the football out of pain and not just due to impact. He also has been blowing up the tight ends on a regular basis.

5. It's time for the Steelers management to stop pretending this offensive line is going to work out.

The Followup

Time for overrated musicians! Oh boy, I'm excited.

Travis Barker- I couldn't wait to get this one off my chest. He's overly flashy, attention-seeking, and incredibly annoying. How he manages to garner so very many votes for "Best Current Rock Drummer" over people like Pat Carney is beyond me. The man is also seriously addicted to crash cymbals. It's annoying. Play the drums themselves, please.
Neil Peart Rush- People like to talk about how Rush took the epic, long-lasting aesthetic of '70s hard and prog rock and added more technical skill and more abstract lyrics. First of all, I'm not sure that Rush is actually better at playing music than Zeppelin, The Allman Brothers, Cream, or any of the other elite bands from that time. Secondly, while they did add "philosophical" (read, "weird") lyrics to that kind of music, they also subtracted what made that music so good in the first place: the blues, passion, and groove. Not to mention the fact that Geddy Lee's voice is irritating beyond belief.
Eric Clapton- Don't get me wrong, Clapton is a very good guitarist. But he does not deserve mention among the best ever. Hendrix, Page, Duane Allman, John Frusciante, J Mascis- all better than him. I feel like he gets something of a related-to-the-Beatles boost because of his friendship with George Harrison.
Jim Morrison- A good singer, but definitely a beneficiary of the dead=genius algorithm. He had a very interesting voice, almost big band-esque, but limited range and a frankly overrated set of lyrics.
Kurt Cobain- essentially the same as Morrison, although his problem was less "limited range" than "limited as a singer." He wrote better songs than Morrison did, to be honest, and also played guitar (though not that well), but he was not as good a singer. And he also benefited tremendously from Dave Grohl's drumming and Krist Novoselic's bass work, which is underrated.
Ozzy Osbourne- More significant for the fact that he launched heavy metal than for any other reason. Sabbath continued without him, and he was always dependent on great guitarists like Tony Iommi and Randy Rhoads (and in my opinion, the former far outshines the latter). That is not to say that he was a bad singer, just a one-trick pony. Take away his metal howls and he's got nothing. Of course, this is true of most metal vocalists, but almost none of them have the same notoriety as Osbourne.

Well, I'm sure I could come up with more, but I don't feel like it.

Underappreciated Musicians

Just because I'm bored and thinking about it, a quick list of artists that people either don't know or don't care enough about. Also, since this is about underappreciation, not complete anonymity, I'm avoiding indie types.

Junior Kimbrough- Blues guitarist extraordinaire and inspirer of much of The Black Keys' catalog.
Robert Johnson- The granddaddy of all rock, and possibly the best acoustic bluesman ever.
John Paul Jones- About 1/1000th as well-known as the other Led Zeppelin guys.
John Frusciante- Honestly, how is it that people don't love this guy? Guitar magazines know about him, but pretty much no one else.
John Densmore- The only really talented musician from The Doors, the one with the most artistic integrity, and a virtual unknown outside of drumming circles.
Topper Headon- Had he not had a massive drug problem, The Clash might have lasted a lot longer, which would have been pretty great. Also probably the best drummer in punk history.
Mick Jones- Speaking of The Clash (I definitely don't mean the guy from Foreigner), Mick was a more polished and accomplished guitarist than Joe Strummer and had just as much vocal skill, though he sang less. Ah well, to the frontman goes the glory.
Ginger Baker- All things considered, much cooler than Eric Clapton and one of the best rock drummers ever.
Dave Grohl- Not in his Foo Fighters incarnation, but with Nirvana. All anybody ever says about Nirvana is "Kurt Cobain, blah, blah, Kurt Cobain." I'm tired of it. Nirvana would have been a lot worse without the heavy, heavy drumming on Nevermind.
Brian May- Similar to above, completely overshadowed by Freddie Mercury in the public consciousness. May was one of the best guitarists of the last few decades. Not taking anything away from Freddie, but give the man some credit.
Art Garfunkel- Paul Simon wrote the songs, yes, and had an actual solo career, but Art Garfunkel was a better singer. By a fair margin.
Phife Dawg- By show of hands, how many out there knew that he was the other guy in A Tribe Called Quest?



Coming Soon: Over-Appreciated! (Although I'll probably just call it "Overrated").

Vocals

Since I'm bored and think this way pretty near constantly, I thought it would be interesting to break down different categories of vocals in music. Basically, I'm trying to figure out which of my favorite bands have:
A.) Better lyrics than vocals- that is, singers who sing worse than they write;
B.) Better vocals than lyrics- singers who sing better than they write; or
C.) Vocals and lyrics that are about the same. This does not necessarily comprise an elite group, theoretically you could have a terrible singer/songwriter who would fit this category very neatly.

That being said, let's begin.

A.) Better Lyrics Than Vocals

James LaBrie- The lead singer for Dream Theater doesn't have a bad voice, per se, but he isn't exactly Freddie Mercury (who is coming later). He also happens to have a pretty good knack for writing lyrics- he did very well on Dream Theater's best album, Metropolis Part II: Scenes from a Memory, which is more or less the only one of theirs that I can completely recommend. He also has a couple of well-written songs on Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence, although I'm fairly sure that Mike Portnoy wrote a good number of those, as the album was his idea and is named after his own experiences with a twelve-step program. I would consider him above average as a pure vocalist, but a solid-to-good songwriter, so he fits this one on the lower end.

Dustin Kensrue- Both a solo artist and the singer and second guitarist of the post-hardcore band Thrice, Kensrue has a very odd vocal style. He has a certain rasping quality that still remains distinct from mere shouting or the vocal shredding common to similar acts, but he does flirt with both. However, like Thrice itself, his body of work is highly variable, ranging from aggressive, intense punkery to soft, lilting understatement. As with LaBrie, he does have a decent voice, but his lyrics (especially if you are, as I am, a Christian) are often very, very, very good. His vocal ability in itself is nothing special, but his lyrics are excellent.

Eddie Argos- Art Brut, an excellent Brit-punk/pop/rock'n'roll band that I previously mentioned in passing, sometimes comes dangerously close to simply being a vehicle for Argos' self-deprecation. To be perfectly frank, his voice is basically just an average, pleasant-sounding one. Were it not for the sheer brilliance and humor of his lyrics, he would be completely unremarkable as a musician. However, his lyrics are that good, and so is Art Brut as a whole. It takes a more careful listening to appreciate the instrumentals, but the words are up-front and hilarious.

Tom Petty- Do I even have to explain this one? He writes catchy lyrics (and catchy songs, as well) despite his irritating, nasal whine. He hovers only a few notches above Tom DeLonge in terms of sheer annoyance.

Bob Dylan- See above.

Paul Simon- Because Art Garfunkel was a better singer and hardly ever wrote lyrics.

B.) Better Vocals Than Lyrics

This one is a surprisingly fruitful one, so I tried to limit myself to just a few choices here.

Freddie Mercury- I told you it was coming. Queen does have some decently written tunes, but who even needs lyrics with a voice like Freddie's? Possibly the best vocalist in rock history, he had an impossibly high tenor, great sustain, and a very smooth delivery. My only knock against him is that his style didn't particularly lend itself to certain genres, including my favorite, blues. In terms of sheer vocal talent, though, he is light-years ahead of practically everybody else.

Robert Plant- Another of my favorite vocalists who doesn't really have a flair for writing. Plant had a voice like a wolf (and not Howlin' Wolf, either) and a banshee shriek that was a perfect fit for the hard, wailing music that Zeppelin reveled in. He also had pretty decent chops as a softer, folky singer, and despite the sheer weirdness and oddball-ity of his sound, he remains one of the most distinctive and accomplished singers of rock music. And- he wrote mostly flat, uninspiring lyrics. Many songs, like "Whole Lotta Love," "How Many More Times," and "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You" either borrowed heavily or were direct covers of previous work. Plant's original material, such as "Achilles Last Stand" (which isn't even punctuated correctly), or "What Is and What Should Never Be" devolve into either cliche or meaninglessness with great regularity. His best composition was probably "Thank You," which is a great song, but not much better than passable in its lyrics. Still, he was a bluesman at heart, and the blues and its derivative forms have almost always had more to say with the music than with the lyrics.

Joe Cocker- I love his gritty blues voice, but his best song was written by the Beatles (that would be "With A Little Help From My Friends," a track on which Zeppelin guitarist Jimmy Page played during his session days). His other most famous tune is "Feelin' Alright," which is decent but nothing exceptional in terms of the lyrics.


C.) Equally Good Lyrics and Vocals

Bono- U2 has neither the best lyrics (Dylan, among others, had better ones) nor the best vocals (Queen and Zeppelin are better in my book) but they do have some of the best of each. Bono has a good, clear tenor and a strong social conscience. Often, he is not the most subtle of songwriters, but there really are some issues that deserve to be addressed with a sledgehammer instead of a tap on the shoulder- for instance, the failure of the UN to support Bishop Desmond Tutu against the apartheid state of South Africa (which Bono addressed in a live cut off of "Rattle and Hum"). Bono probably exemplifies the best of this category: insightful lyrics combined with genuine vocal talent.

John Fogerty- Better-than-average lyrics along with a better-than-average voice, a gritty and distinctively American sound. But his solo career was pretty crappy.

Sting- With The Police, that is. His solo career was awful, and he can't really hit the high notes anymore. I think he was probably about two octaves lower on "Roxanne" when I saw The Police a while back. While, with The Police, he had some creepy-but-interesting compositions about personal life, his solo material sees him dipping into the hippy-environmentalist cliche well far too often.

Umm... that's it, I guess.

What I Think Of Arturo Gatti

Arturo Gatti is dead, an apparent suicide in Rio de Janeiro, a broken man, physically and otherwise. But that's not what I want to talk about.

Nor do I want to talk about his life, his behavior, or anything like that. I did not know the man, and I do not want to judge. I simply want to talk about who he was as a fighter. Above all else, he was that: he was a fighter.

Gatti was a man. His offense was fluid but angry, quick hands and hard, with a heavy left hook. He could slug, and he learned to box. There is no doubt that he could hurt a man. But his offense was not him, and he was not his offense. Gatti had paper skin and eyes that swelled so often and so badly that they were permanently beady by the time he fought Micky Ward. And yet he would brawl. He would wade in to trade with his opponents, even as his face tore and bled. A fight in which Gatti did not look disfigured was a rare occurrence.

And, speaking of Ward, it is of course that epic, famous, bloody, brutal trilogy that must be spoken of. Gatti was more than his fights with Ward, but there is no other thing that one could start with in discussing him.

Gatti's strategy in the first fight was to box, and he was winning. But Ward popped him, and boxing was gone. Gatti was never as comfortable in that role, and he seemed to shed it gladly. It was as though he knew what was happening, knew he was being drawn in, but didn't care. He was a man, he was Thunder, and he was going to beat Irish Micky Ward by punching him, and no other way.

The key moment in the fight and, I believe, in his entire career, was the knockdown scored by Ward in the 9th (out of 10). Gatti was caught in the body, right around the kidneys, and all the strength went out of him. It was less of a knockdown than it was a man succumbing to the ludicrous amount of punishment he had taken to that point. And Gatti, the man, went to his knees.

And then Gatti, the man, climbed back to his feet. And on uncertain and unsteady legs, he retreated from Ward, ducking and weaving as he could. And then Gatti, the man, started to fight. Weak and exhausted, he threw everything he had into the punched-out Ward, short jabs followed by wide swinging rights. And he very nearly chopped Ward down, half-paralyzed and wholly spent, before his last efforts wound down. Then Gatti was helpless before Ward, who had a rally of his own, before wearing out exactly as Gatti had. The Arturo Gatti he made his way to his stool before the final round looked dead. His left eye was swollen very nearly shut, his face purple and distorted by nine rounds of reckless combat.

To me, the tenth round of Ward-Gatti I will always be Gatti's crowning achievement. As the round started, he tried to fool Ward and his own body into believing he was fresh- and he succeeded. He came out with the same sort of dancing footwork that had utterly confused Ward in the first third of the fight. After that, he started to swing. He was dead, but he was alive again. What Gatti found on that stool between those rounds was redemption- not for his spirit, and not for the fight, which he lost (unfairly, I think, but boxing often goes that way). He found redemption of his courage. The broken, defeated man who had collapsed onto his stool after dropping from a body blow was now a man fighting with borrowed strength. If it killed him, Arturo Gatti was going to finish the fight. It is no coincidence that, after he won that round, Gatti won the next two fights.

Much as I dislike Hemingway, I have to admit that if one was to use a quote for Gatti's epigram, it would be the statement of the fisherman in The Old Man and the Sea: "I will show you what a man can do, and what a man endures."

Arturo Gatti may not have been a great man; he may not have been even a good man- but he was a man, and that is a thing worthy of respect.

Why Am I Not Surprised

That David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez were using performance enhancers in 2003? I don't know if I'm just becoming cynical or if pretty much all of baseball really is on the juice. I really hope that at least one Hall of Fame-type player from this era is clean. Pujols would be good.

Review: Dinosaur Jr.'s Farm

Before I begin- and this is intended to be a track-by-track review, or at least a record of my impressions of each track- I just want to take a minute to complain about the complete lack of quality record stores around me (that I know of, anyway). I went to three different stores in an attempt to find this album (a highly anticipated one among certain segments of the population) before giving up in frustration and buying it on iTunes. Now, it very well could be that I'm just not cool enough to know where to go to find the cooler music that I listen to (anybody could find Zeppelin, but it takes a hipster to find Dinosaur Jr.). Maybe there's a super-hip indie store somewhere around that had a billion copies, but even the semi-indie-oriented Newbury Comics utterly failed- although I suspect they might have been sold out, because there was a gap in one of their displays in the front. I also had to resort to iTunes to get the album Without a Sound. Ugh.

Alright, review begins now (and bear in mind that this is the first I've heard any of these except the single, and I don't remember what it sounded like):

1. "Pieces"

The album starts out pretty heavy, with a typical J. Mascis riff and some snare-heavy drumming. The bass is only occasionally audible, though. Here we have a classic Mascis drawling song. The snare has a nice, fat, 1970s-ish sound to it. It sounds like John Bonham's. Guitar solo is good, not great- scratch that, it's great, but not right at the beginning. It's a twisty necked melodic thing. I've noticed several high-speed rolls on the toms, but they have a pretty similar sound- I'm not sure if it's just the snare and then one tom, or if Murph's (another one-named musician) drums are just not very distinctively tuned. Definitely a solid opener: powerful, engaging, but still incredibly slacker in nature.

2. "I Want You to Know"

More immediate vocals on this one- perhaps a vocally-driven track? Hi-hats have that particular shearing sound, like something being slashed or chopped at- I don't know how to explain it if that doesn't immediately make sense to you. Lou Barlow's bass remains a low rumble, not especially distinctive. Syncopated snare on this one, a little stuttering thing that functions as a sort of heavy, heavy leitmotif. This is another Dino song that approaches an almost countryish sound, albeit one run through high distortion and much heavier than country artists are wont to be. Impressive drum roll leads into solo at about 2:50. Solo is very high pitched- sort of reminds me of "Feel the Pain." I haven't really payed much attention to lyrics up to now, but it seems like they're pretty typical quasi-angsty "song about a girl" lyrics, but who cares? The music's good. The guitar takes on the sound of an electric violin played squeakily at a few points.

3. "Ocean In the Way"

A bit slower. Drum rolls have been replaced with those heavy two-handed tom-plus-tom and tom-plus-snare slams, a la Dave Grohl on Nevermind. Snare, however, remains fairly active. I think J. is muttering "Ma, ma, mama, ma, ma," but I can't be sure that's what it's meant to be. I don't think I've managed to make out a note from the bass yet- wait, there's one (I promise I did not make that up). Interesting restructuring going on- slowdown on the guitar, plaintive vocals, and almost melancholy guitar. Make that "wistful." Is this the start of the solo? Yes. A good curveball- a short, sad, almost sweet solo in contrast to the previous two fast paced and significantly more intense solos. Guitar is definitely reaching for sadness- good Sehnsucht potential, if you happen to be a rocker with an introspective or romantic bent, in the classic sense.

4. "Plans"

A slower, sadder riff here. Bass is finally pretty easy to follow. J. almost sounds like Eddie Vedder on this one. Cool fill at about 1:05 or so. The solo comes early in this one and is a slow one with some tension in it- almost reminds me of Jimmy Page's solo on "Achilles Last Stand." Secondary, quick solo carries on that same vibe. I'm really going to have to read lyrics at a later point, because I am utterly incapable of remembering them as I hear them at this point. Sudden shift at about 3:05 to a chugging, punkish riff, but quickly transitions out. We're now dealing with a repeating vamp. For some reason, I am reminded of R.E.M. J.'s plaintive voice is making another appearance. To their credit, Dino's song titles almost always appear as direct lyrics, which makes keeping track of them simpler. Third quasi-solo is a bit more typical for Mascis. Scratch the "quasi," it's a full-blown solo, it just had some vocals over the top and that made me think it was going to end quickly. I'm definitely getting reminded of "Achilles Last Stand" by those solos. Weirdly edited finish- drum distortion, I think? But it's quiet and intended as one of those "change of pace 'studio outtake' type endings."

5. "Your Weather"

I can only assume that Lou Barlow is singing here, with J., I think. Drums are a heavy, quarter-note-pulse stomp with frequent crashes, at least to this point. The vocals are doing weird things right now. I'm liking the guitar work. Murph has now gone into a low-toms rhythm. Now back into treble cymbal rhythm. Bass is a hard to notice but powerful undercurrent to the guitar. Another sequence sans cymbals/hi-hat, but this one is more snare driven. Abrupt ending. Took me by surprise.

6. "Over It"

Funky wah-wah stuff- or at least it sounds like wah to me. The primary riff has a punk feel. Really nice drum roll early on. J. is warbling like Elvis, had he lived a couple more decades: "What could I do? Run around on you-ooo-ooo." "It's true-ooo-ooo." Almost ska-like little repetition of snare roll followed by crash. That's a recurrent element for a little while, anyway. Riff now seems less punky- has it changed, or am I just hearing differently? Weird effects on the guitar toward the end- the overdubbed parts, that is. Another little snare-roll stampede. Another sudden ending.

7. "Friends"

A little stuttering makes up the second part of the opening guitar licks. I think I hear bass-crash, bass-bass-crash patterns. Murph is depending a lot on fills that switch back and forth between tom and snare to this point on the album. Numerically, we are now at the middle of the album. The guitar seems to me to have some elements of rockabilly or country to it, but, of course, it is more amplified and hectic sounding than either of those genres. There really is a very odd counterpoint between Mascis's guitar and vocals- the one is frantic and heavy, the other is an unconcerned (or mildly concerned) drawl. This, of course, is a point that has been beaten to death by everyone who talks about the band. We now launch into a wild, yet melodic, solo. J. Mascis remains one of the few modern guitarists whose solos I truly enjoy. The guitar solo is largely a lost art- most are terrible, now, at least in mainstream bands. Solo continues through the fadeout- that seems like a classic rock trick to me.

8. "Said the People"

We start ponderously with some floor tom thunder to go with a bass like elephant footfalls and bluesy, deliberate guitar. "Save me," Mascis is saying and sounding, again, like Eddie Vedder. The way this recurrent riff ends reminds me, oddly, of Hendrix playing the blues. Only the final chord though- the articulation sounds similar to me. J. sounds depressed as he says over and over, "I can't help it" and "All the people, of all the people, why now? Save me, save me." Solo starts off with a high, quavering note- some bending involved. Solo takes on the feel of something repeatedly ascending and falling, gaining a little height each time. I like it, although one of the last elements seemed pretty mediocre to me. Overall, though, it's a good one. This is a longer one. "Can you tell me, can you tell me what went wrong? Guess I should've seen it coming all along. Gotta fight (find?) it, gotta be strong. Gotta be something, can't let it drag on and on. All the people, all the people, to let me down, all the people, of all the people, why now?" I'm never sure if Mascis is drawing on personal experience or just inventing people whose lives are awful. We've got another solo here- similar to, but minutely different from the first. A little less hopeful sounding, if that makes sense. This is a long track, over seven minutes. For a brief moment, the solo reminded me of "Walk On" by U2. Bizarre collision of highly disparate musical styles. We have that tom pattern again, from the intro. Combination of abrupt end and fadeout.

9. "There's No Here"

Starts off rapidly with a solo overdubbed over a riff. I get the impression that the rhythm section is leading this one, with guitar following. The bass is definitely more distinct here- I hear shades of Krist Novoselic (of Nirvana). A racing snare drum defines some of these sections, finishing with a very quick, stuttering fill. I keep hearing Vedder's voice echoing J. in my head. Another very, very abrupt ending.

10. "See You"

Starts off with a sweet feeling and some very high, twisty guitar. Interesting tricks by Mascis. That was weird- listen to this and I think you'll understand what I mean. This is a comparably relaxed track. Slacker vibes are just wafting out of my computer screen. All of the sudden we're dealing with some New Wave sixteenth notes on the hi-hats. We've reached the point where it goes riff, alteration, riff, alteration, but I don't mind it. It's still keeping me absorbed. "Hear me out, I'm about to fade. I've no doubt you meant that way(?)." This is basically a more advanced pop track- alt-pop, I suppose. Now we've got some heavy, lunging moments. We must be nearing the end. Here comes another solo. Yup, there's the ending. Predictable, but not necessarily in a bad way. I haven't heard a track I didn't like to this point.

11. "I Don't Wanna Go There"

Heavy drums to start. I could've sworn this was Pearl Jam for a few seconds. That continues to be true. A short but intense solo just burst out. We're dealing with an almost nine minute song. Huh. Took a left turn, there (3:00 or so). Melodic shredding solo at about 4:20. I'm normally opposed to shredding on principle, but that was pretty cool. Almost a Brian May feel to one part of it, as Mascis appeared to be following an ascending scale. I'd like to take this time to point out how utterly weird the album art is. It appears to be two sentient hills- that look like Gumby- kidnapping three (nude?) women from an industrial city. Very long solo. It's not done yet, but it's still pretty engaging. That's a good gift to have- if you can pull of an immensely long song (or solo, whatever) while retaining attention, that's a good thing. Think Allman Brothers Band and Zeppelin. Drums are doing some interesting things underneath this solo. Solo ends- heavy riff begins. Briefly. Song ends with fingers slipping on the guitar strings.

12. "Imagination Blind"

Last track. It appears that Lou Barlow is singing again. So far it has yet to grab me. Drums, for the first time, are largely monotonous and boring. At this point, I'm inclined to say that this song needs an absolutely hellacious solo to save it. If this is the solo, it's not enough- at least not so far. Oh- it ended. This was not, perhaps, the wisest choice to close out the album. Ah, well. I've never been inclined to judge albums based on the arrangement of the tracks, at least not to any great amount. At least 90% of an album's quality is, in my opinion, solely based on how good the songs are in and of themselves.

Final analysis: very quality, as good as Beyond. The primary attraction is the guitar work, but that is so undeniably cool and creative that it hardly matters if the other elements are sometimes overshadowed. I'd say this gets a solid A, which is a relief because my previous album of the year was the Dan Auerbach solo effort Keep It Hid, which, while a good album, was not deserving of that particular title.

Metaphysical Relationships to Bands

I've always thought this about The Black Keys: every song they write, even if it's not one I particularly like, gives me the feeling that it is executed perfectly- that is, given that they picked this particular song to write, they could not have done it better. They might have picked a better song to do, but this one is done perfectly.

Now, The Black Keys are not my favorite band- they fluctuate around the area from 2-5 on that list- but this is a completely unshakeable feeling that I have about them. For an example, the song "You're the One" (on Rubber Factory): I don't like this song. In fact, this is about the closest I come to actually disliking a Keys song. But I don't think there's anything they could have done to make it better without making it a different song.

My favorite band, though, is Led Zeppelin- something I bring up a lot, you may have noticed. My perception of them is very different. They represent, to me, a sort of Platonic method of music. It has always seemed to me that Zeppelin's music is completely organic (even when they use a Theremin), in the way that a tidal wave is "organic" (I guess "natural" would be more appropriate, since water is not an organism). Their music seems to just spontaneously come into being, as though the ideal form is reaching into the world to create an actual form. So, in a sense, even though both bands are blues-based riff-rock bands with awesome drummers, Zeppelin and The Black Keys represent a near complete conflict: the Keys manufacture an ideal, but Zeppelin merely emerges from or arises out of the preexisting ideal.

Put another way, I have the strange perception that Zeppelin's music must exist in some way or other, and that it would inevitably come into being (this is, of course, hyperbolic and over-analytic). The Keys, however, seem to be a completely superfluous, but totally awesome, development.

In a similar vein, Zeppelin seems to me to be cohesion- something that naturally comes together and sticks, like water, inevitably and without guile or choice- whereas the Keys are adhesion- a manufactured situation with parts being placed together with purpose and aforethought.

As a final summary: Zeppelin and the Keys have a remarkably similar sound (blues-based thump with unusual vocals and extensive riffing). Zeppelin, though, seems to have been almost an accident, even as far as their selection of personnel (look up the hiring of John Bonham), but an accident that had to happen eventually- i.e., I have the incredibly weird feeling that "When the Levee Breaks" would have been written and recorded at some point, or at least something remarkably close to it, whether or not Zeppelin as it was ever existed. The Keys, though, seem like a remarkably successful business model or science experiment. They seem manufactured, in the best possible sense. Despite their superficial roughness and crudity, they are in some ways more polished than the (comparably) smoother Zeppelin. But that ultimately is not enough to push them to the top of my personal list.

And no, I do not do drugs.

I've Probably Been Reading Too Much Chuck Klosterman

Because I'm going to write a weirdly metaphysical, or at least quasi-philosophical, post about music.

I've been thinking about how culture wars in general, but for some reason musical culture wars in particular, only apply to their own generation. For instance, Klosterman records- in Fargo Rock City- that he and his fellow metal fans felt obligated to support Motley Crue's Theatre of Pain despite believing it was something of a sellout album. Why? Because it was the "most metal" of all popular records that year.

Now, for me, the metal-vs.-non-metal war seems irrelevant: in general, I dislike metal, but there's some Sabbath, some Guns N' Roses, and some Metallica that I like. Whatever. I wouldn't say I'm a fan of these bands, but I can listen to them and enjoy some of their material. Similarly, I totally love Led Zeppelin in pretty much every way possible. I consider them to be a collision of very high-level musicianship, intensity, and a mythic air that is hard to define (and I don't buy into the Satanist rumors or anything like that). However, I also really really like The Clash, despite the fact that one of the members (Paul Simonon? Joe Strummer?) said that he didn't need to listen to Zeppelin to know he hated them because "just looking at the album covers makes me want to throw up." I recognize the fact that the early punk rockers hated Led Zeppelin and everything they represented: virtuosic guitar solos, the long haired look, commercial success, and lives of excess (and, to be honest, I don't like the hair or the excess, either). But the fact is, that dichotomy seems completely irrelevant to me. I go on loving Zeppelin and really liking The Clash just the same. I'm not much of a punk fan in a general sense, but I am definitely a Clash fan in specific.

That being said, I don't feel that way about current cultural conflicts. For instance, I hate emo in general, therefore I feel pressure to hate emo in specific (although some borderline emo bands- Coheed and Cambria, for instance- mildly appeal to me). I feel obligated to hate every specific emo band. And, for the sake of accuracy, I generally do hate every individual emo band (especially Fallout Boy). But the fact is, I am involved in this war between non-emo and emo. I feel the same way about goth- I feel obligated to hate it although I like The Cure's sound. I don't usually bring that up and I don't own much of their music, but I could see myself being into them. Part of that might be because they are an older goth-type band, and I can see them in a different context- i.e., 80s music. I believe that, in the future (say the early 2020s), this sort of conflict will seem irrelevant to most people listening to the music. I expect the teenagers of the 2020s to find it weird that I took a side on the emo issue, much as I think it strange that you had to declare yourself in the punk-vs.-hard rock/heavy metal war. I suppose the key is cultural distance, which can help you see beyond particular biases and simply pick and choose the sound you like most.

That said, emo freaking sucks.

I Had to Mention It

I had not seen the Calzaghe-Lacy fight until a few days ago, when I watched it on Youtube. Quite simply, I don't think I've ever seen someone more dominated than Jeff Lacy, even though he kept his feet (mostly). I never realized exactly how quick Calzaghe could be, and he absolutely tagged Lacy a few times, especially with right hooks and left uppercuts. The fact is, Lacy looked like an amateur. I don't know if I'm really going anywhere with this, I just wanted to point it out.

Look At Them, They Formed a Band

I don't know how many people out there beat me to the discovery of the British pop-punk band Art Brut, but I am jealous of all of you. I was recently introduced to the group by my brother, and I freaking loved them immediately. They have a very fun, upbeat sound along with some of the purely funniest and most enjoyable lyrics I have ever heard. At one point, in the middle of their first major single, "Formed a Band," the singer declares "Yes, this is my real singing voice/It is not irony/It is not rock'n'roll." He also penned a song about his love of "DC Comics and Chocolate Milkshake," saying, "Some things will always be great/Like DC Comics and chocolate milkshake/Even though I'm twenty-eight." Art Brut is ironic, but not to the point of cynicism, a la far too many in the hipster scene. They are definitely worth checking out, even if just for the latest album title ("Art Brut vs. Satan").

Secondary Blog

I just started a new blog, philosophyforstupidpeople.blogspot.com, which is going to focus on- you guessed it- philosophy, but also theology, in modern culture. It's going to be a little more serious, and probably have posts a lot longer than this one.

Just Saw "Star Trek"

And I was very disappointed that, at the end, when Kirk first walks in to the ship in his captain's uniform, that they didn't replace the original actor with William Shatner. It would have made things so much better. Just the slightest bit of Shatnerian awkwardness would have made this a nigh-perfect film. Although Simon Pegg made it close.

A Couple of Quick Thoughts

First: I am very surprised by the result of Pacquiao-Hatton. I thought Manny would win, but I assumed it would be a unanimous decision type of scenario, with Hatton being beaten by Pacquiao's speed more than anything else. I really did not anticipate a knockout, especially not in the early rounds. It seems like one of two things has been happening recently: a.) Pac-Man is picking his fights very well, finding guys who are still very much in the public eye but are subtly declining (well, not so subtle in De La Hoya's case); or, more likely, b.) he is just a freak. I think it's interesting the way Pacquiao has moved up weight classes so easily and smoothly. Part of that, in my opinion, is the fact that he was more than likely actually undernourished as a young man, when he won the 112 pound title as a teenager. It's very possible that he is able to put on so much weight without losing anything simply because the full potential of his frame was never tapped at a young age. In any case, he is definitely on top of the world right now- who knows, maybe by next year he'll weigh in at around 210 and take down Witali Klitschko.


And, second, I just discovered the show "Kings" for pretty cheap on iTunes ($10 for six hours worth of the show). It seems to me that all the shows I find interesting lately are either in severe decline (Family Guy, The Simpsons) or canceled or very likely to be canceled (Firefly, The Black Donnellys, now Kings). The premise alone is good enough to merit watching it- a retelling of the Saul-David-Jonathan story in a modern setting- but it's really incredible. Ian McShane (the dad from Hot Rod and one of the guys from Deadwood) is the king, Silas, and is great in the role. But Kings is currently getting a sub-1.0 Nielsen rating and the second half of the first season was delayed until summer, which means that I'll be rewatching the first five episodes for over a month- hooray. I really hope this one makes it, because it's my favorite new show on TV.

Building the Perfect Drummer

I am bored. I also just remembered seeing some stupid thing that Chris Berman did on SportsCenter about six years ago, where he took a different body part from a bunch of NFL players and built a new one- it was honestly pretty awful (on giving the player Ricky Williams's hair, he said "How's that for tough football follicles?"), but it gave me the idea to do the same sort of thing with my favorite drummers. I'm going to take bass drum, snare drum, toms, hi-hats, and cymbals from five different people, based on technical skill with that particular piece of the kit as well as creativity/style.

Bass Drum: John Bonham

Bonzo was also awesome on the snare and toms- and, well, pretty much everything- but his right foot was legendary. He briefly experimented with a double-bass set up but he was so fast with one it didn't really change anything. He played so many hand-hand-foot high speed triplets that I would guess he probably wore through at least a few hundred bass heads in his decade or so with Zeppelin. He also had an incredible little throbbing bass-only triplet (most notable on "Good Times, Bad Times") that sounded like the heartbeat of a coke addict. He was loud but musical with the thing, keeping time and also building on it for truly amazing fills. Unfortunately, due to the fact that heavy metal (and worse kinds of metal) bands extrapolated on many of the worst elements of Led Zeppelin, he also inadvertantly inspired a bunch of drummers to use a double-bass kit as a metronome, something I can't stand. Still, I can't deduct for an accidental legacy.

Snare Drum: Patrick Carney

Pat Carney is the drummer for the Black Keys and probably the most creative drummer (in a fairly-mainstream band) I have ever heard. He is completely self-taught, tends to play a maximum of one fill per song, and has a three-piece kit that almost looks childish. But he really rocks it, and he definitely makes the most of what he has. His snare drum is always doing something interesting- generally syncopated, always powerful, and sometimes spectacular- for instance, the second recurring measure of the beat to "10 A.M. Automatic." It's strange, because he also manages to give it a more musical quality than I thought a snare could ever have: until I saw the "10 A.M." music video, I could have sworn that some of what he was doing involved toms. Nope. Just snare.

Toms: Mitch Mitchell

With a great jazz background, Mitchell really knew how to use the whole kit to great effect. Playing from under the shadows of Jimi Hendrix's sprawling riffs, he filled what would have been radio-silence with these little six-second fills, musical, technical, and exciting. He had a particularly vital sound with the toms. It's a bit difficult to describe, but it probably goes back to tuning- like many drummers of the '60s and '70s (Bonham, John Densmore, and Ginger Baker come to mind) he used high jazz tuning on the toms along with pretty big, open drums- but he also played really cool rudiment-based fills on the snare and toms that enhanced each other. He was also a pioneer of lead-style drumming in rock music, something that had previously been restricted to jazz. He provided a guide for a lot of later rock musicians to break free from the backing-band types who had come before.

Hi-hats: Stewart Copeland

While with The Police, Copeland really changed the way the hi-hat was used, at least for a lot of new groups. His use of sixteenth notes on the hats, along with his strange, gliding, stuttering eastern-inspired rhythms, changed the concept of the hi-hat for the post-punk and new wave crew. It's more or less due to his influence that songs like "Everlong" exist- use of the hi-hat as a racing, fast-paced pulse rather than a stately, 1-2-3-4 metronomic place holder largely comes from him. His style is not my favorite, but he was very impressive and very technically gifted, especially with the hats.

Cymbals: Keith Moon

I am not the biggest Keith Moon fan- I like his playing, but I don't love it the way so many people seem to. However, I always find his use of cymbals sort of enigmatic. In stark contrast to his wild, whirlwind style on the drums themselves, he played the cymbals with a certain stateliness, almost restraint. He often used slight crashes to hold his place during the middle of epic, stretched-out fills and he almost always used the cymbals as the pulse instead of the hi-hats. It's interesting and it lends timbre and nuance to an otherwise wholly bombastic attack. His toms, despite his heavy reliance on them, often seem only haphazardly tuned (especially on the non-remastered albums, there is an audible double-sound to his drums, suggesting unequal tuning on the top and bottom heads), but the cymbals are oddly melodic and almost dulcet.