AR: Siamese Dream

Smashing Pumpkins - Siamese Dream (1993)

Fresh from the tape deck of a Nyetian Youth 1986 Volvo comes the seminal alternative pop-rock opus Siamese Dream. This one wormed its way to the front of the queue by virtue of three little factoids - one, hombre Justin is back in town and all but requested the Ballad to be re-designated an all-Trigger, all-the-Dheintime endeavor. He seriously asked for a new genre of posts dedicated to "good restaurants in the 13th Street and Osborn area" (aka "Yelp for Dummies") and, when promised a post with a list of recs, uttered something to the effect of "I won't hold my breath - I've been waiting a year* for that Siamese Dream review." Ouch.

* - Gross hyperbole. It's been at most six months.

Two, as alluded to in the Volvo memory, SD holds the rare distinction of being a well-remembered constant-car-companion, an album I had to have listened to something like 300 times from 1993-1995. I recorded it from CD onto a Maxell cassette that on side A had Weezer's self-titled blue album* and on side B had this beast, and that tape - I never listened to the radio - was on constant play-and-flip, play-and-flip, rinse-repeat rotation every time I drove that car. And SD served as a soundtrack of choice for walkman-running all through high school, too, which meant that I also listened to it every time I jogged around the 'hood (which, guess what, was often. And yes, the chorus of "I... feel... no pain" was an uplifter on numerous occasions). And that doesn't even count the bajillion times I listened to it on disc in my bedroom over headphones. So we're talking back of my hand familiarity, 100-layered-guitar-track roars the equivalent of a country boy's crickets - it was practically ambient music for my particular niche of the San Antonio suburbs. So it's kinda a priority review independent of Justinian requests.

* - Hmmm - this seems off, as Weezer was released in 1994. So maybe the tape wasn't in the Volvo until fall of 1994?

Three, it was a routine answer from seventeen-to-nineteen year-old me* to the "what are the best, most perfect albums of all time?" question. I remember high school chum Brian Baker specifically asking me this question, and after listing some of the usual suspects (I think I probably gave The White Album and DSOTM as card-carrying-conformist type answers, so yeah, the more things change, etc.), I said "and from recent years it's Siamese Dream - there's no bad track on that album." It helps from a congenial conversation standpoint that BB had attended that previously referenced Pumpkins concert in 1994 and equally become enamored of the band / album of music, so we pretty much concretized the notion right there - SD was a short-lister. Of course, BB followed this up by claiming that some Rush album was also perfect, so it's not exactly an inspiring endorsement. Still, we had at least a fleeting two person consensus, and so it's about damn time I give it the Nyetian treatment.

* - I don't mean to make anything of the implication here that the 31-33 year-old me holds or will hold a different opinion - I think it's true, as I'll note below, that the back half of this album does dip a little bit - but the point of this little sentence is that this is a formative years, everyone knows rock achieved perfection in 1974 type of album for me. So you probably know the rating that's coming, and you may or may not agree on the "most perfect" part of this quote, but, um, what's done is done, and I'm not about to change my opinion on the well-ingrained. So there.

You can read all about the vagaries that made this album historically special in plenty of other locales, but I'll give the quick rundown here. Early nineties alternative rock - and this is unsurprising, given the ages of the purveyors of said rock - can be framed as a reinvention of popular genres from the '70s. "Punk with reverb" pretty much catches Nirvana's Nevermind, "introspective classic rock"gets Pearl Jam's Ten, and even grunge music (e.g., Soundgarden's Badmotorfinger) was largely an antithesis response to '70s-'80s hair-metal sheen and excess, a kind of anti-KISS. And then out of Chicago came the near-emo slacker prog rock revival. Smashing Pumpkins was a bit against the grain, with extended compositions, roaring look-at-me guitar solos, strings in the mix, etc. I.e. they violated some alt-norms, and in doing so carved their own niche well. They also escaped prog-retread territory by being overtly confessional - no songs about Ents and faeries here, just a whole lot fish-in-barrel-shooting depression-for-teenagers*. The combination was great, sort of introverted wrath, even as they walked the fine line of what would become overly woe-is-me emo rock in the coming decade.

* - Nyet Jones, smiling politely.

I keep writing "they" when I should write "he," as the other notorious thing about SD is that perfectionist/egoist Billy Corgan, the singer and rhythm guitarist, basically went nuts and took over the writing, playing, and everything else about the album. It's probably hyperbole, and everyone in the band is credited on the album, but the legend is that the band was at one another's throats, the drummer was in rehab, Corgan was having nervous breakdowns, the album was way over budget, you name it. So Billy, dissatisfied with everything that hadn't been played by himself, played everything - drums, bass, rhythm, leads, and probably those bells in "Disarm." Again, this is undoubtedly untrue, but with an album infamous for its Butch-Vig channels-Phil-Spector wall-of-sound and it's non-exaggerated hundreds of overdubbed guitar tracks, it's kind of darkly hilarious to imagine the band tyrant alone in the studio saying, "alright, this is take number 42 on guitar track 87 on the third track of the album. Dammit, get this right, Corgan!"

So the album's got an important place in alt-music generic history, and it's got a Rumours-esque recording story to give it that much more emotional girth. But the thing I love about it is plainly the way it sounds*: CRYSTALLINE. The ringing clean electrics throughout drip and splash with soothing clarity. The fuzzed out guitar armies resonate excellently, distorted enough to be angry but never so much as to be non-distinct. Acoustics cha-chung brilliantly. The lead vocals are relatively buried in the mix - hard to compete with all of those six-strings - but they pierce in appropriate moments and yield to the instrumental energy in others**. There are drum parts that are so plain as to be formulaic (drumrolls, slowing tom beats into song conclusions, etc.), but they are sitting so perfectly in context that, sorry, the phrase "everything in its right place" occurs subconsciously. To steal a line that I'm sure I've referenced on other occasions, this is another album that sounds round - well-circumscribed bass, juxtaposed lead-back vocals, and blah blah blah you get the point. I *DIG* the aesthetics on the visceral level, and given how overwhelmingly busy this album is - it's one of those headphones-demanding, sounds here and there discs - it's amazing that the clutter is so distinct. And that is the immediate thing I think when I catch that twin-kid-cover - good, complex songwriting that moves with energy and brilliantly never steps on itself.

* - Plus, you know, iconic cover. A title that references a lyric from the album and not a mere track title. These things count. :)

** - This is a point in the album's favor - I tend to not care about lyrics too much unless the music indicates to me I should. I mean, a folk ballad in Bob Dylan's voice is so directly about imagery and content that it would be weird to listen to Zimmerman and not think about the lyrics, right? So the mix on SD has the opposite effect for me - the vocals are buried, so other than latching onto the earworm choruses, I don't pay too much attention to what Corgan mumbles. And this helps, because there are lines that are pretty embarrassing, and that would probably damage my opinion of the work. But since the produced seemed to heavily emphasize sound relative to message, I tend to do the same when I listen, and that tends to emphasize strengths of the disc.

This aesthetic hits from the get-go; SD opens on a snare-drum roll, demonstrates the idea by allowing a clean, simple, flanged electric guitar intro, adds a snare beat, then a rumbling bass, and then... GUITAR ARMY. Thus starts "Cherub Rock," a five star album opener if there ever were one - the intro settles into a more typical rhythm / lead / bass, verse-chorus-verse arrangement, but it explodes with clenched-fist frustration buoyed by an, I don't know, angelic pop-rock-song that fills rooms. It even has the uber-classic anti-sell-out pre-chorus - "Who wants honey? / Long as there's some money," followed by Corgan's dismissal, "LET ME OUT." And if you ever need to restore your faith in the power of the eagle-screaming 16-bar exquisitely tight yet frayed and frantic guitar solo, might I introduce you to the 3:09 mark. A nice gimmick repeat of the song's intro leads this in, and jet engines nod in appreciation as the lead soars on this bridge en route to a final anthemic chorus. Classic album-opening that puts everything out there from moment one. And as a sidenote - it's imminently playable by amateur guitarists like myself. Well, not the solo, but the song proper got many a play-along in an above-garage bedroom, I tell you what. "CR" was, as I recall, the first single off the disc, and legendary friend Christastrophe tried it out for a talent show once upon a time.

Out of the ashes of "Cherub Rock" comes one of my favorite guitar sounds, the Harley Davidson Doppler-roar of the riff-driven scream-song, "Quiet." It's a one-two punch - you are mistaken when you thought that "CR"'s crash ending meant the band was spent - and it rocks so effectively that SP would continue to milk this vibe for albums to come (see "Zero"). The album finally yields to sanity for track 3, the hit single "Today." It's another track that milks quiet-loud dynamics for all they're worth AND features a sing-along chorus with the simple-grin idiocy of "Today is the greatest day I've ever known!" And it has an epic KEY CHANGE bridge, for pete's sake! Inspiring somehow in spite of its on-paper cheesiness, the toy-guitar opening is reminiscent of something the FLips might have done, and the song generally serves as a pop-perfect anthem piece. No shock that it climbed the charts.

With a heavily-edited/chopped, Eastern-sounding riff intro backed by bass and then leading into a single-strand guitar melody, "Hummer" - all 6:57 of it - is a nice example of the guitar splash sound AND the alt-prog vibe to which I referred earlier. Despite its frequent guitar roars, it's a come down tune from the energetic openers. It's long, with many seamless composed sections fusing together (including another delicious guitar solo) on the way to the album's first dream sequence ambient-ish breakdown at 4:30. The song becomes a dream jam of interweaving lines as it slowly fades out - this is the type of thing that surely irked the alt-punks, but it hits all kinds of soothing for me. When the psychedelic dust settles, things pick back up with one of the most overt guitar-hero homages in "Rocket," another single off the album. If you can't hear the guitar solo from Queen's "We Will Rock You" here, I don't know if I can help you. This is another multi-section fuzzed out rocker - the vibe is actually somewhat Bealtey in moments, with a "Tomorrow Never Knows" drone and a quasi-Eastern bridge of Harrisonian ilk - and another one with a fist-pumping chorus "Free - I shall be free." It collapses into guitar cacophony, just to remind that it. is. alt. not. pop. Yeah, right. :)

Speaking of pop, chug-a-chung... "Disarm." This was another huge single off the album (I can't even hear it without picturing that black-and-white video*), an acoustic-plus-strings-and-bells singer-songwriter venture. It's build-up is pretty perfect for this kind of piece, up to and including its over-the-top melodramatic chorus and heart-wringing vocals. Are you sensing a theme here? Interestingly enough, it has practically the exact same chord progression as another hit from the time, The Cranberries' "Zombie." And I can play both of them!

* - For better or worse, I also can't help but remember that Mike NTPB and I wrote a parody-thing of this song for Duke TIP's 1994 talent show. It was horribly stupid - I think it involved the quad and chemicals? - and in one of our more brilliant collective moments, we decided at the very last minute not to play it and avoided embarrassing ourselves horribly. Success.

"Soma" closes side A, and is surprisingly still my favorite track on the disc. On the one hand, it's completely routine, a volume-dynamic song that jolts the listener by exploding midway through. But on the other, it's a space-psychedelic song with hints of piano, synthesizers, an infinity of guitars (acoustic, electric, and dirty-dirty-distorted), and a tranquil, near spoken-word vocal that converts to sinister snarl by the end. It screams "Carpe Diem!" *effectively*, had a mind-melting guitar solo, and manages to crash into water for its outro, giving a second dose of space that sounds as though its bubbling from 'neath the ocean. Great, epic piece on an album full of them.

One strike against SD is that it's a little front-heavy; the mean is definitely on side A. It's indeed difficult to imagine how the intensity could have been maintained. But they certainly tried (and succeeded) with the Hendrix-y guitar freak-out (surrounding another pot-haze soothe-bridge) "Geek U.S.A." This song absolutely sizzles as it maintains the prog aesthetic, giving us another entry in the bleeding-ear frenetic guitar solo category at the 3:00 mark, a meandering spazz-out that drives the song until the whole thing crashes into a grunge -dirge at the song's conclusion. This trails "Soma" as the album highlight by a very, very small margin - it's one of the lesser known tracks from the disc, but it absolutely cooks.

The album definitely steps down a notch from here - not to say that it isn't good, but the minor drop-off definitely occurs between "Geek U.S.A." and "Mayonnaise." The latter is a distortion-ballad that spins more volume dynamics, going all the way down to just Billy-and-guitar for its bridge. Solid, but not up to the quality of the first seven tracks. "Spaceboy" stays in this mid-to-slow-tempo vein to the album's detriment; it's another solid acoustic-plus-strings ballad, and effectively leaves the album in a down mode. Probably my least favorite track on the album.

Fortunately out of the doldrums comes screaming "Silverfuck," a Sonic Youth Lite sprawling tune that juxtaposes tom-tom jungle polyrhythms, extended instrumental howls and a capella vocals. It even opens with studio banter! It is utterly spacious and the height of proggy-indulgence on the disc. The "bang bang you're dead" section teeters on awkward, though the rest of this track maintains an effective sinister vibe. And the sonic explosions are way more than effective, giving off the type of energy that facilitates completing, e.g., laps on cinder Clark tracks. A colossal rock star, feedback and scratch noise-drenched conclusion yields to "Sweet Sweet," a glistening and, yes, saccharine tune that is best described as a shimmery guitar lullabye. It's pretty and over before it begins - one of the more successful abuses of the chorus pedal ever.

"Luna" is the questionable album closer, another syrupy ballad with a sing-along chorus, this time the plain "I'm in love with you." The tune is tinged with strings and Eastern-sounding guitar flourishes. Pretty enough, but again, a little too much of the same trick from the three ballads on side B of this album.

So I'll reiterate a footnote from above and note that my 32 year-old self would probably not say that this is one of those "most perfect" albums. It may be purely the biasing effect of the SP albums that followed, but the qualities that render parts of, e.g., Mellon Collie annoying - the whiny, insincere-and-clichéd BC aspect - are retrospectively evident on the back half of SD. True enough that these tunes feel more direct and visceral than the ones the evoke those accusations, but still, three of the six tunes on side B have this honey-dripping feel to them, and it's just too much. THAT said - I'd be a liar to Nyet's everywhere if I tried to pretend this weren't a DI disc. Fantastic opener, fantastic sound, a wealth of singles, one five star/ three four star tunes and solid throughout, AND a seminal alternative album from when I was fifteen? Please. So pack this one in your Flight 815 carry-on and enjoy - after all these listens, I'll still gladly hit the crystalline sound of Siamese Dream and celebrate the fleeting moment in which prog and emotion, angsty guitar screams and confessionals, stayed just this side of melodramatic excess. Fish-in-a-barrel, sure, but the gunshots in this period ring beautifully.

Status: Desert Island Recommended

Nyet's Fave: "Soma"

All I Ever Wanted (Summer 2010): Prelude

Before I post a brief account of Beck's and my excellent vacation, I've got to address a blogging omission from last year. In May/June 2009 - a period that you'll notice via the archives link now to your left, has no entries - we traveled to New Orleans for the rare wedding of the Speckle-bellied Jullietta (where we had a great time AND lunch with Tuftsbud Mall Tatt) and to New York for Tuftsbud Andy's wedding. Additionally, we ended up staying in NYC with Mike NTPB and had a fantastic time kicking it around the wedding-time with him and his now-fiancee Jen. And then, in the Ballad of record, I wrote things like:

1. Julliette got married! Huzzah! We went to New Orleans. I will post about this.
2. Andy got married. Huzzah deux!!! We went to Long island. I will post about this.
3. I saw Mike whilst in Nueva York! And new SLF Jen! I will post about this.

And nary a post did I write. I made a liar out of me!

A year later, I barely remember anything, so I'm not even going to attempt to provide the usual rich narrative. But any monkey with a typewriter can post a million pics to Flickr - so apologies for the year-old vacation slideshow nature of this post, but here's a smattering of pics from New Orleans and a slew of pics from Andy's wedding. I obviously didn't manage to catch Matt or Mike in either set (though Matt makes appearances in the latter), but trust that we had a great time with both - hit some great local dive Southern food (jambalya, etc.) and a local favorite dive burger joint with Miguel. So, we... dived? Anyhoo, good visits, sorry I didn't account for them int eh relative present tense, and here are some fun highlights.

That's the imitable Chris Coco, former Rice Cloud Nine teammate and general superstar of life, let alone Ultimate; two of my favorite ladies and a Nyet; and a beautiful work of art (also, there's a sculpture in the pic). Here's the winner memory of the weekend, natch: the lovely Julietta in full regalia:

For the Andy wedding, I'll just post and let you figure out what the hey is going on. That's right, NO CONTEXT (okay, minimal context). Other than to say that this was a fantastic event, I'll never forget Josh and Nicole getting crazy to Meat Loaf's "Paradise By the Dashboard Light," yes, that is Josh and I pulling off a slick "Beat It" / West Side Story knife fight dance, and I am more than a little worried about how many more times we can pull off "Paradise City" as Tuftsmen wedding routine (no, not really - it's too awesome, and too many different people get their domes blown at the different weddings for it to die). Okay, phew, enjoy:

Jesse, Nyet, Andy, Ariel, Blake, Jon, Elliot, Ian, Mike "MAZ"

Mall Tatt, Josh, Zach

Josh in full-on bad-ass mode:

Spot the inappropriate couple:

Paradise:

And the cute, happy couple ... being inappropriate:

All pics yoinked from a professional photographer or some such. Will gladly remove, etc.

Houseguestapalooza MMX (Part III)

Tuesday - after having stayed up very late the night before chatting with Mike NTPB about everything from law school to wedding plans to how I'm going to be the next Chuck Klosterman / Bill Simmons of pop philo writing, I got out of bed early early - I mean, around 2 in the AM, after having gone to bed at 1 - thanks to the throbbing pain in my toes. Seems I didn't tie my shoes tightly enough in Monday night's debacle of a frisbee game, so in addition to suffering the humilation of a lopsided defeat in front of my friends and families, I was suffering the particularly exquisite pain of blood blisters in the beds of my second toes. If you are an Ulty person or have ever otherwise had this misfortune befall you, you know that it's not a tolerable state - the toes just throb incessantly, so sleeping becomes impossible. The only solution is to release the fluid, either with a sterilized needle or a sterilized small cut in the nail. Being the squeamish type and fearing the needle in nailbed impact, I opted for the latter. This carries it's own crappiness, as now your nail is not as anchored and can wiggle around and hurt some more. Suffice it - no sleep that night; I ended up doing the wake up every twenty minutes thing until about 4:30 when I said screw it and got up and continued grading exams.

(Real-time interlude - I just had to chase away two little girls who were climbing our orange tree in the front "yard." Their parent (I presume) was standing in the driveway next door, not ten feet away, watching them climb a tree on someone else's property, doing / saying nothing. And she gave me crap about not letting the girls have fun. WTF people. How about *not* letting your offspring trespass and render me liable for their injuries. Dig?)

The iPFam were still houseguesting (my parents stayed in a hotel around the corner for the first few nights, as thanks to Fred taking up a bedroom, there are only two guestable suites in the Jones household these days) as they would not head for California until Wednesday morning, and they dictated the morning schedule. Their stay was actually something of a blur, because almost every day looked something like this - and actually, this is captured directly from the iPMM's itinerary:

8:00ish - Get out of bed, breakfast, coffee.
9:00ish - Look up from iPhone to notice that it's already 9:00.
9:01 - Declare "Alright, I am going to the gym. Things to do today!"
10:00 - Look up from iPhone briefly to nod to the iPJ as he declares he is "going for a walk."
10:45 - Look up from iPhone to notice that it's already 10:45.
10:46 - Redeclare, "Okay, *now* I am going to the gym."
11:00 - Go to gym.
1:00 - Get back from gym, sometimes with other people's underwear in tow.
1:01 - Declare, "I am going to take a shower so we can do X."
2:30 - Look up from iPhone to notice it's 2:30. Redeclare shower-esque intentions.
3:30 - Put down non-waterproof iPhone to facilitate shower.
4:00 - Shower finished, attack world. With iPhone in hand!

I kid, I kid. A little. But things were quite relaxed, which was great for that Tuesday - we lounged about and got ready, and Dad and Mom came over about 10:30 so Mike, Dad and I could head to a Cubs spring training game in Mesa. In the meantime, Mom, the iPMM and Beck went to Practical Art and kept them afloat in these troubled times, and the iPJ spread the word of Apple as far north as Camelback and 24th, where he ran into the Apple Store and lost track of time. The Cubs game was really, really quick, about 2 hours, so we came back and hung out about the house for a while. I am pretty sure this is the day where the news about the Texas Board of Education dropping Thomas Jefferson from the political philosophy curricula of high school text books (in favor of John Calvin, no less) came out, drawing some offhand "Texas should secede" remarks from the iPJ which in turn drew some "get a rope" commentary from the visiting Texas contingent. Remarkably, Civil War Part Deux did not break out in the Flower House, so we chilled in the living room for the afternoon and, over e-mail across the house, decided to go to Hula for dinner, where a great meal was had by all. Mike regaled us with tales of NYC, we had beers, burgers and ribs, delicious stuff.

We rushed home to catch Lost - really, it was an experiment in seeing if my parents, who had never seen an episode and knew nothing about the show, could track what the hey was happening. They could, more or less, but I don't think they were entirely sold on the show. We said adios (for the time being) to the iPFam as they headed to a Marriott before trekking to CA in the AM. And then, because we had to, we took Mike and my parents to MoJo. They were QUITE sold on that (as was Mike - we may have to start referring to Beck and her efforts to spread the good word as the MoJoJ). Headed home, and despite my best efforts to stay awake and hang with NTPB, I crashed at about 10. Pretty solid accomplishment given the 0 sleep the night before. Oh, and we also moved the Nyetfam into the guest room and got ready for what would happen when a Fred confronted a C-Pap machine (answer: nothing). A good Tuesday.

Monday morning was my first official day of spring break, so I woke up really early to grade. Sorry for the boring theme... Beck headed back to work that day after a pleasant week off hanging with the iPFam. My main mission was to successfully take everyone to lunch AND pick up Mike NTPB from the airport, not an easy task - got everyone over to the house and ready to go by 11 or so. We ate at Sacks, a sandwich place not to far from the homestead, and it was FANTASTIC. Love that place! I bugged out a little early and picked up Mike effectively in stride from the airport; didn't have to stop int he cell phone lot or anything, just pulled up right as he walked out with his bag. BAM! We headed home and hung around the pool for a bit, chatting with Mom and the iPMM about proposals, wedding plans, and trying to predict what accident would occur during this iP-NTPB interaction (nothing much - a knocked over glass of water; no bull-rides or eye infections this time). Mike and I headed to the fields at 5 to throw a bit before the start of the terrible, terrible 3BK game; there was a lot of talk of having Mike play with us, but we decided to stick to the rules. A lot of fun to hang and throw with Mike and have him and the fams at the game, even if it was a travesty of Ultimate.

We, as you will recall, played savage, and I ran my face off, leaving me exhausted after the game. This did not stop everyone from asking me where we should go to dinner - I just remember being so tired I could barely think and people staring at me. We decided on Jerry's for convenience's sake - it's a 24 hour diner close to our house and close to my parents' hotel, so it got the job done (even if I can't say it was the highest quality breakfast fare I've had, it did the salt-replenishing trick after the savagery). Beck got a milkshake that was super tasty, as I recall. We came home, Mike and I stayed up very late talking, and little did I know that my toes were swelling in my shoes all the while...

Houseguestapalooza MMX (Part II)

Oh, my failures are too many to count. Here we are three weeks later, and I haven't written up Houseguestapalooza. I. Suck. The quality of the product has deteriorated substantially, I'm sure, as I can hardly remember who all was here, let alone what we did. But here's the best effort.

Wednesday and Thursday were the Grand Canyon experience. We (my parents and I) drove up on Wednesday and stayed the night at a lodge in the park which is *definitely* the right call if you ask me. The canyon is, as advertised, amazing, though I liken the experience of seeing it the throngs of people to the worst of the worst museum commentary experiences. "The colors; the play of light and shadow!" they exclaimed for the millionth time. I spent the bulk of my viewing time pondering the meaning of the term "reverence" and wondering whether Thoreau and Whitman exclaimed inanities at nature all the time, too.

I'm such a critic. Seriously, though, it was Spring Break, and the people were out in droves and exercising no self-censorship. Letting that go, the views were fantastic, and I got tons of photos (see below). We also had the pleasure of hearing a national parks ranger talk about going into the Canyon off-trail and the different precautions he takes to, you know, avoid death. He told us a great story about a pair of lost hikers and other ones about annoying, food-stealing ravens. Great stuff, and BEST OF ALL, he taught me how to tie my shoes to avoid "canyon toe" (no, that's something different) which hopefully means I'll be breaking my toenails less often. (Two days too late, actually, as I broke them Monday night).

I've spent the last five minutes trying to decide which pictures to post, and it's pretty impossible. So just check out a slideshow and enjoy this pair of enticing shots to whet your appetite with, you know, colors and light and shadow:

That first one is from sunset Wednesday; we failed to get up for the Thursday sunrise, so the second is a midmorning shot. Beck insisted that you can't get a feel for it via pictures, and she's of course right. I think you also can't really get a feel for it until you go down into it. Standing on the rim still gives you the vague impression that you're seeing something on TV, and the brown L.A. haze doesn't help matters.

We slept in on Thursday as mentioned; my dad and I grabbed a free, powdered egg style breakfast, and the three of us took a bus tour to catch all the views. In lieu of lunch, we hit the general store on the way out for some road snacks where I spotted this:

It's pretty low on the universe's list of cosmic coincidences, but Cactus Candy is a shut down shop on a street I drive down in Sunny Azz Phoenix every day - seems at one point they actually did make a product. Who knew? Anyways, lots of good pretzel and light fare treats for the road trip home, and I'd say we did quite a good job eating well for being restricted to highway fare.

After spending the day site-seeing and visiting a couple of artists studios that overhung the rim, we made the drive back home without incident. I had the unfortunate job of grading undergrad exams all spring break (I think I mentioned this earlier), and I spent most of the trip home head down, red-inking. Less than fun. We got back to SA at roughly five and made some turkey burgers for Beck's arrival home from work. Delicious times, and we capped off the day of glorious natural wonders by watching Iron Man, which was entertaining if silly.

On Wednesday morning, I took Mike NTPB back to the airport so he could head on to California. Great visit with the Miguel which I will detail reverse time style in the upcoming posts. Came back to pack and head off to the Grand Canyon, and like I said, probably not going to do it justice with words and pics - we had a good time, though the place was overrun with stereotypical middle class overweight tourists who spouted nonsense with a vengeance. maybe headphones are in order next time...

Alright, TBC with Tuesday in a few.

3BK-5 (For Real This Time)

Okay, this is easy - with the iPFam, the NyetFam, and Mike NTPB watching from the sidelines, 3BK got its collective ass handed to it last night, 15-6 from Huck You. Or perhaps half of its ass, as we only managed to field 8 players, one of whom was hobbling around on a sprained ankle. Savage for the guys and only three girls, and we were missing our first, second (sprained ankle), third, and fourth round picks, leaving us with few to no hands and a dire inability to cover pretty much anyone from the other team.

They threw a lot of zone at us, and it became readily apparent very quickly that working it up the field was not really an option (drops, throw-aways, etc.). I ended up consciously taking some rather ridiculous chances in light of this (figuring the 30% chance was more viable than the 5% chance we would work it up), but otherwise did fine; even had a layout D and a nice layout backwards matrix-style catch. Hit some people in the hands with hammers, forehands, missed Stefan just a hair deep a couple of times (he was the one playing on a sprained ankle), the usual. Not a good showing by the team*, but we kept running hard all the way through and seemed to keep spirits up, which was good. I personally was still cutting deep at the very end**, so I was happy that the week plus off from frisbee didn't kill my endurance.

* - Problem one - handling was terrible. Couldn't depend on people not to take the ridiculous shot up the line, or generally throw the disc directly into poaches. Problem two - we definitely had two men (if not four) running free on us on defense. That problem was actually bigger than the first, as we tried hard, but they were essentially able to walk it all over the field every time we turned it over. Ugh. I tried to play centerfield and got some mileage out of it, but it was a pretty impossible situation.

** - Mike (and Tom from the other team) nicely noted that I look skinny, which may or may not have anything to do with the cardiovascular being okay despite the relative lack of sprinting lately. . My mom, on the other hand, said that I look like a priest. We eventually figured out that she meant "monk" or "ascetic," but the initial comment was surreally awesome: "your nose is really skinny; you look like a priest." This, natch, inspired many a heckle from the Beck and iPMM. "Your legs are skinny; you look like a priest. You ears are looking thin; can you administer communion?"

Beck is still hobbling a bit but played well; she got the disc a bunch of times which was sweet. Probably best to stop talking about this; we were just severely outgunned and couldn't get anything done. We had a little run toward the end to close it to 10-5, but that was about it. No good. Pretty embarrassing, too, to have Mike et al see the low level of disc. Ah, well. We're 3-2 with a +10 point differential now and have a tough game against Griesy and the rest of Los Tigres Del Norte next week. We shall see...

Oh, btw, Beck's fam and my fam and Mike are in town. SPRING BREAK!!!!!

3BK-5 / March Tourism

Make that 3BK-5. Sunday's / this morning's rainfall canceled what would have been a cold and muddy affair against the likes of Griesy and Big Nate. Probably for the better, as Beck and I don't entirely feel up to it, Stefan's still injured, blah blah etc. Besides, I may have wasted all my Dawn-Plus Now With Gries-Fighting Action while finally taking free pizza from his pockets on Saturday. Huzzah*!!! Plus the iPFam has descended upon our abode (!!!), so we have more fun out-hanging to do. It would have stunk to once again make them watch a freezing cold Ultimate game, so hopefully the weather will turn better before next week.

* - Yep, I won my third SLUG scrimmage in a row (3-0 in '10, 7-4 all time) while Griesy lost for the first time in something like 8 or 9 games. Ah, well, all things must pass. Here's an action shot of Griesy in case you don't know to whom I am referring:

Yep, the iPFam is here in full force for their spring vacation - they'll be here for the next few weeks, the Nyetfam is joining us Saturday, Mike NTPB is coming in on Monday - it's the usual March madness here in Sunny Azz. I spent the bulk of the weekend wiping up actual grease, getting the house cleaned and the lawn mowed and all that in anticipation. The study, believe it or not, looks livable, and the various surfaces were dust free at least for a few hours there. Good times.

Beck and I had a great weekend - her last day at work for a week was on Friday, so we time-traveled back to 1950 and hit up the diner around the corner called, appropriately enough, Linda's on Osbourne. Why time-travel, you ask? Well, the 1950s was our best guess as when the decor in the restaurant was established, and there is little doubt that it has gone unchanged since. It's also "the best school lunch you've ever had" fare, with most everything coming straight out of the fat fryer or off the grill with copious butter and or gravy. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It also didn't help that our fellow diners espoused values like "Santa Fe, Mexico, whatever, they're all the same" and, "She ordered San Pellegrino - what a princess!" And reeked of stale cigarettes. After a tasty if bland split meal of fried catfish and country fried steak (when in Rome...), we stepped back into 2010 and grabbed more free Froyo from yours and my favorite place of OMG all time MoJo. Good times! Came home and Beck packed up for her big Saturday trip.

Which was a 12 mile hike in the Superstition Mountains up to Flat-Iron. Beck found a group of fairly die-hard hikers and had been training to made the big trek; she got up at 4:30 (and so did Fred, which means so did I) to leave at 5 to head east out of town. Here's the hike iconic shot:


(Flat Iron is that peak to the far right in the pic). Big, big trip; I spent the morning winning SLUG as referenced, ate lunch, came home and mowed the lawn, and Beck *still* didn't show up for another couple of hours. Intense! She had some quad cramps that hindered her a bit - maybe not a big enough breakfast - and felt like to die at least a couple of times, but required no air rescue and completed the big time hike. Yeah! This resulted in a phone call at 4:45 demanding burgers and / or pizza to replace the lost salt; I decided that my free lunch be damned, we were doing pizza for the potassium benefits, and hit Slice of Sicily for another delicious meal. Beck was fairly conked out during the evening (though she did rally to break our normal rule and hit MoJo for a second time of the weekend. I, incidentally, tried fruit FroYo for the first time - my normal go-tos are chocolate and mint or chocolate and peanut butter concoctions - and I may be a changed human. Seriously, plain yogurt plus Acai (sp?) yogurt plus strawberry shortcake yogurt plus some dark chocolate chips was quite the flavortastic experience), so I spent time cleaning the study - the before / after shots would have been dramatic - until I could watch SNL, which was solid.

I woke up CRAZY early - 4:30 again on Sunday - for unknown though possibly Fred-related reasons, and decided that as long as I was up I would finish the study. So I did, and hung out with Fred / read to start my lazy Sunday. Beck woke up feeling much less sore, so we trekked over to Lola's for our first relaxing Sunday coffee and NYT XWord in a while. Despite the inclusion of "Flow Whistle" as an answer, we did quite well, thanks. Came home to watch an exciting Blackhawks - Red Wings game, do some more reading, and then put the finishing touches on the casa as we waited for the iPFam to arrive. (It poured on and off all day, killing Sunday pickup as well as tonight's game, so I don't really know how I'm going to get my Ultimate fix in the next few days. Ugh). Ate some cheeseburgers / fried potatoes for dinner (Beck still needed to complete the previous day's craving) once they arrived and had a a good time catching up. I was pretty zonked, though, as the consecutive early-risings caught up with me at about 10 and I went into zombie mode. Didn't feel great upon waking up and decided to stay home rather than brave the halls of academia (though I ended up getting a fair amount of work done here anyways).

So far, so good - Fred allegedly did not keep the iPJ and iPMM up, which is a minor miracle, given that she did manage to wake me up at 6 from across the house. It continues to drizzle and be miserable here - very wet and 50 degrees at most today, which is 35 in real degrees according to science. The game cancellation was surprisingly welcome, as referenced. We've been eating some hot food, drinking teas and coffees, and we'll probably grab some dinner out and possibly a movie tonight. I have to get up at 5 tomorrow for some PT and office hours and a full day of the usual - it's not my vacation until next week, when I'll have a pile of midterms to grade, too. Yeehe! In the meantime, fun times, good to see the iPFam, and I'm sure we'll have tales of craziness before the week is out. Though no Ultimate frisbee craziness, a state of affairs I'm not sure I'll be able to handle...

AR: The Beatles [The White Album]

The Beatles - The Beatles [The White Album] (1968)

Well, this is just silly. The Beatles has long been my favorite album, making me about as unoriginal as possible, as plain as, say, a white album cover. It all started long ago when my dad made playing "Birthday" a tradition for all of the Jones-Ellis birthday gatherings. Every birthday gathering - and there were lots of them over the years, what with the 8 people involved - featured an impromptu dance party that lasted a glorious 2:43. If I'm not crazy, this was usually followed by an album switch to some more Beatlemania era stuff, typically "Twist and Shout." I essentially have an infinity of memories of my mom and aunt dancing like crazy to that one. Dad always played "Birthday" on his original vinyl copy on our living room stereo, and even after he had switched off to Please Please Me, he would leave the double LP cover out and open to the four famed pictures:

Something about it - the stark pictures, the simple lyrics listed in black font against a vast plain background - gave off an aura of mystique. Plus, sheesh, a double album, FOUR sides of Beatles songs - and my dad so obviously loved it, I didn't know how this could not be the best album of all time. I'm sure we listened to it a lot, as these songs have always felt deeply ingrained in my being. But my earliest memories center around the "Birthday" plays and "Twist and Shout" following it. Sometimes after "T&S," Dad would put the White Album back on with the first side first, order-proper-like. I must have had to go to bed pretty soon after the time "Birthday" was busted out, because I don't remember ever getting past "The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill." I do, though, have a very distinct memory of reading along with the lyrics to figure out what the ridiculous falsetto voice was saying ("But when he looked so fierce..."). So, to sum: I don't know the first time I heard this album; I know we must have listened to it all the time, but my most distinct, episodic type memories focused around birthdays. There ya have it.

Until one time, when I had to have been older than twelve (as this memory is very clear and from the new house), my dad put on the usual "Birthday," only we all got distracted by the candle-blowing and so no dance party broke out. So "T&S" didn't follow - Dad just left record 2, side A (or Side Three, I guess, is the appropriate parlance) playing. And out from the stereo bellowed a reverb-soaked "Yes I'm LONELY ... Wanna Die!" Whoa. Hey and the what now? Surely I had heard the song before, but it was very particular moment - pre-TIP, lonely middle school days, and suddenly it sure sounded like even the freaking Beatles had an urge to scream at the world. I don't mean to portray myself as this little black-clad hipster - I didn't even know who the hell "Dylan's Mr. Jones" was at that particular moment - but that scream, the snarl of that guitar, spoke in very big ways. So I definitely sat down and listened to the album-in-full then, fell in love forever, and even managed to steal my dad's CD copy of The Beatles for the next several years until I was gifted my own for high school graduation.

So that's the background, or at least part of it. Again, part of me feels particularly stupid for trying to review an album that is so fundamental to my constitution and one about which so much has been written already. It's still in the number one overall spot; it's not just Desert Island Recommended but will already be playing when I get to the Island. I don't know, coconut transistors or something. They'll figure it out.

All of which is to say that this is a beyond fantastic album, *even though* it's not a perfect one. Sure, there's some filler. There are two of the worst "tunes" in the Beatles catalog as the big finale. It's totally unfocused, stylistically all over the map, and all reports are that the songs were essentially composed-in-solo; no magic L-M collaboration going down here. Still, somehow the looseness, the quilty patchwork quality all comes together. Even if the songs are solipsistic islands, the sheer talent and ear of the four individuals is most definitely there, and the album-as-a-whole is an excellent "collaboration." I could wax indefinitely, but after all these years, The Beatles are still my favorite band, and the unending variety here still constitutes my favorite collection of their work. I'll give this super-album the track-by-track treatment, and I'll try to recount associated memories as I, er, remember them. Here goes:

"Back in the USSR" - "BOAC" was an NYT Xword puzzle answer recently, and I had to laugh - who in the hey would not know that? There was a time when I believed a rumor that the White Album was a track by track parody of all kinds of other popular bands of the day; this one was so obviously a poke at the Beach Boys and surf-rock bands that the opening track tended to lend the theory some credence, (though it obviously falls apart soon afterwards). But this is, natch, not just a parody - they arguably pull off surf better than the originals, and pepper it with a slew of typical Beatlish witticisms. Love the overhead plane sounds throughout, the supersilly "Georgia's Always on My Mind" nod, and the screaming guitar work throughout. I really like the high pitched trills over the last verse; in typical fashion, they keep each verse unique with a little touch here and there. Great rocker, and an all-time fade-in to start an album. And actually, a great fade-out, too, as plane brakes give way to...

"Dear Prudence" - the tripping bass and haunting, hypnotic repeated guitar line of a fantastic John ballad. "DP" builds slowly from sparse beginnings and has various sounds join the ranks throughout the tune - you'll notice the bass gets more active as the song rolls on, multiple new electric guitars join the fray, backup vocals crawl on top of the main lines. I am sure I will reiterate this time and again in Beatles reviews, but they unfailingly take simple verse-chorus-verse constructions and subtly alter each part, adding little flourishes in each component to the point that the song takes on a structure that overarches whatever primary structure is happening. The last minute of this song in particular adds a kitchen sink of things to essentially the exact same lines as the song's opening, but the dynamic is wildly changed - what was initially a reserved ballad is an over-the-top triumphant sing-along. Listen in particular for the ever-heightening guitar line behind the last "It's beau-tifu-uh-uhl / And so are you-oo-oo." I've often thought that when people say that a modern indie-pop, chamber-vocal kind of band sounds "Beatles-esque," they really mean, "sounds like the last minute of 'Dear Prudence.'" It is quite a beaming, signature sound, and I've waxed on long enough about this classic.

"Glass Onion" - An aggressive, driving, almost sinister backbeat number. It's famously self-referential - "Strawberry Fields," 'Paul is dead' rumors, "I Am the Walrus," "Lady Madonna," "Fixing a Hole," and "The Fool on the Hill" all make appearances, as does one of the world's plainest marijuana references, "a dove-tailed joint." My favorite part of this song is the wordless bridge, where instead of an additional verse you just get the same vamped chords. It's a plain-faced instrumental break without a solo that just lets the anger simmer; great stuff. "Glass Onion" also joins the long list of Beatles tunes that collapses into a trippy, psychedelic symphonic outro, this time with some strings playing an out-of-left-field, cinematic dirge. They are an abrupt shift from the pulse of this song, and an even more abrupt shift occurs with the intro to

"Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da" - The goofy, bouncy sing-along that splits a lot of opinions. I've always had a soft-spot for the theme song to that TV classic Life Goes On. I mean, sure, the maracas are ridiculous, the lyrics nonsensical, the horn lines (while cool) intentionally whimsical, and the whole thing generally smacks of toss-off camp. It just goes to show, though, that Beatles toss-offs are really good, really catchy, and still interesting. I've heard it suggested that this is Paul's foray into ska / reggae: um, okay (update: this checks out; apparently the titular expression comes from Jimmy Scott, and the "Desmond" is Desmond Dekker. Who knew?) It does pull off a certain carefree vibe, and I do like the toy-piano flourishes towards the end and all the whimsical laughing throughout. This isn't my favorite track by a long shot, but it's still some fine pop craft. And seriously, who doesn't have a crush on Becca Thatcher?

"Honey Pie" - Speaking of toss-offs... actually, I enjoy this trippy pscychedeligoofoff track. Short, self-contained, it's the great-great-grandfather of rap album skits - totally pointless, but definitely makes for a transition.

"The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill" - one of my favorite White Album tunes to play on guitar, and yes, even including that out-of-left-field classical/Spanish guitar riff at the beginning. It's a campfire kids' song with a goofy narrative of tiger-hunting, Captain Marvel, and some Ono backing vocals, if I'm not mistaken. Has a nice juxtaposition of foreboding verses with the ultra-light sing-a-long chorus. I enjoy that this song appropriately devolves into the single horn line and the campfire self-congratulatory applause which is suddenly interrupted by "Hey-o!" and the majestic piano over guitar chungs of

"While My Guitar Gently Weeps" - George's first contribution is a gorgeous, dark ballad that notoriously features absolute lead guitar devastation by Slow Hand himself, Mr. Eric Clapton. The verses ("I look at you all / See the love there that's sleeping") are wistful, while the bridge (? - "I don't know why / Nobody told you...") sections are profoundly lilting. This is just fine, fine songcraft; everything fits wonderfully. But when you take that and throw one of the all-time sets of raging, passionate guitar solos over it, you have the first of quite a few five star tunes on this album. With all apologies to "Something" fans, this is George's best song for the Beatles, imho.

"Happiness is a Warm Gun" - This sub three minute tune packs a ton - a spooky/ethereal opening ("She's not a girl who misses much..."), an accentuated upbeat guitar attack with some of the odder lyrics you've ever heard ("a soap impression of his wife which he ate and donated to the national trust"), a dirty, dirty guitar lick with drug-fix lyrics, a running guitar bridge ("Mother Superior jumped the gun" ) and - because why not, at this point - a freaking classic '50s ballad doo-wop progression with lyrics about masturbation (see title), complete with doubletime mid section. What? Exactly. This is as pastichey as the already pastichey Beatles ever got, and it created a song with a bizarre, march ahead structure. One of my all-time favorites, btw. (Pause). Guuuuuuuuh-uh-uhn!

"Martha My Dear" - straight from the vaudeville era school of "Your Mother Should Know" comes this quick Paul ditty, the first of two such anachronistic earlier 20th century radio tunes that McCartney put on the White Album. This one starts off with just the piano, adds strings, then a tuba, then a full horn section, then full Beatles band proper. The third verse is an instrumental break that highlights the independent sweetness of the melody. Paul's bass is particularly great, and the song is tight and short enough to serve as yet another pleasant diversion from anything resembling a cohesive style.

"I'm So Tired" - Yet another one of my all-time favorite Beatles tunes, this is a run-ragged, haggard, insomniac John delivering exactly the half-asleep vocal of the song's title. In the verses, anyways; the choruses feature an irritated, sleep-deprived man who is losing his grip and lashing out at the lover (or perhaps really, the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi) whose ill-treatment won't let him get that rest. A nice, thematically divided song, "IST" features a dreamy bass, a snappy, snare-drum driven chorus, some really slick guitar fills (subtle, but listen for 'em during the chorus) and one of the all time great British slang words used to describe "Sir Walter Raleigh / He was such a stupid get." Two minutes and a VVCVC structure make for a tight, excellent song.

"Blackbird" - A fingerpicked classic solo folk song from Paul that is not just impossibly lovely, but one of the few intricate things I can play (an admittedly simplified version of) on acoustic guitar. I was taught WAY back in the day by good friend Caren VW, who busted this number out at an impromptu acoustic session at one of our college nerd-recruitment experiences in high school. Some guy had been pretty obnoxious all day (w/r/t his smarts - I believe he bragged about AP scores at one point) and was playing something, probably "Come as You Are" by Nirvana, when Caren snagged the guitar and lit up the room with this. Nice, and a total destruction of any nerd-fest-nookie potentialities that "rock star" thought he was achieving that evening. Anyways... the original is an intimate tune with twittering birdsong in the background. Plain, pretty, and sedate, with an allegorical set of lyrics that sit inside the quick 2;15 neatly. It was, indeed, wack Charles Manson interpretations notwithstanding, written in response to racial tensions in the US ("black" "bird" = "African American" "woman," allegedly), though obviously without the violence component. It's terrible that this and other songs on the White Album - "Piggies" and "Helter Skelter," notably - were co-opted for such murderous purposes. I'd actually forgotten about that until I looked the album up online, which may speak at least a little to the simple beauty of the song that doesn't really send the listener toward world referents anyways. Keep an ear out for the root G note that is played over and over and over in this song; also keep an ear out for the "foot-tap" percussion which is reportedly a physical scratch on the master tape. You don't get that in ProTools, eh?

"Piggies" - I lack a sophisticated musical vocabulary and so I think anything with a harpsichord and strings sounds "baroque." But this really does smack of Renaissance Festival Faire. It's completely out of left field and is one of the most poorly disguised allegories in the history of pop. Still, the rock bridge keeps it interesting, the pig grunts render it non-standard in a "Good Morning Good Morning"-nod way, and the emphatic, over the top ending is appropriately ridiculous. I'll tolerate it, George :). Especially since straight out of that melodramatic chord we get...

"Rocky Raccoon" - another acoustic folk narrative that I have learned over the years on guitar. It's the same chord progression / picking pattern over and over (though again, the rhythm is subtly altered from verse to verse) telling the love-trianglish story of Rocky, Danny, McGill/Lil/Nancy. My dad has always sworn that this entire song is just a set-up a terrible pun at the end about Gideon failing to "help with good Rocky's revival." The harmonica, saloon hall hoedown/breakdown bridges, sorrowful backing vocals, and the organ-fade into the next tune are nice touches. Great, goofy tune, and one of my favorite to play. In fact, chroniclers of the Nyet legend are sure to know that I regularly played "RR" at Lovett College Musicale events, often inserting the famed (and thoroughly unprintable) Lovett College Cheer for the middle bridge. Matches the rhythm, you see. My friend Brett would accompany me by playing "The Beer" onstage, essentially standing there grinning and occasionally taking a sip. We also had a special affinity for the "called himself Dan" line which I sang in the voice of Christina of D/C fame. These were good times.

"Don't Pass Me By" - another goofy country stomp, this one written and sung by the inimitable Ringo Starr. It's driven by a raging fiddle line and features an oddly sad narrative (given Ringo's beaming delivery) about a girl who was in a "car crash / and [she] lost [her] head." Silly, which seems to be the theme of this part of the album, as the next song is

"Why Don't We Do it in the Road?" - the goof-off, though subtly ominous and murky blues number. It's straight up 12-bar blues and blows by in 1:42. It's also only Paul and Ringo, possibly leaving their personal tendencies unchecked by the, ahem, more serious Beatles. Two lines are repeated throughout the song and get progressively heated. I've always enjoyed the drum opening on this one.

"I Will" - A lovely Linda ballad, this is just a pretty guitar ballad / ode to Paul's wife. Pretty direct and sincere/sappy, I heard this at a wedding recently and it just sat perfectly. It's notable for a vocal bassline behind the jangling guitars and the excellent line "Make it easy to be near you / For the things you do endear you to me" which sounds like it might be syllabically awkward but rolls off flawlessly.

"Julia" - one of John's most haunting, best ballads, this quiet, acoustic solo number is just he. It's contemplative feel brings Side 2 to a great close, and the lines "Half of what I say is meaningless / Though I say it just to reach you" are classic, even if they are stolen.

"Birthday" - I've talked about this one enough in the intro, I think, but it is one of the all-time rockers. I can also crank this one out on electric guitar, too, and it is so fun to run off the signature lick and pretend I'm partying with the Ellis-Joneses or at ShowBiz Pizza or whatever. I love the vocal-less passages (with the screamed 5...6...7...8!!!) and the solo on the bridge is short but divine. This should, obviously, replace all other songs as the official BDay anthem. Duh!

"Yer Blues" - Wicked, existential despairing blues; it's been charged that this is somehow a parody, but for all John's soul-screeching, you'll be hard pressed to convince me of that. It's a relatively standard though absolutely raging blues tune, with thrilling fills and violent breakdowns - perhaps completely unsurprisingly, I LOVE that line that John sings to me that he feels so suicidal "just like Dylan's Mr. Jones" and later that "he hates [his] rock n' roll." The song breaks into a half time party at that point, and the bubbling moog (I assume) organ that comes screaming and the following psychotic guitar solo absolutely KILL. And then a trick which has popped up repeatedly - the first verse is replayed with the vocals barely audible until the song fades out. A quite strange effect, as this spins this angst-song into the realm of the ghostly. One of my all-time Beatles tracks.

"Mother Nature's Son" - a sort of classic Paul tune that does manage to capture the pastoral theme of its title. A simple, pretty guitar part backed by thumping drums and a light symphonic section, this one is highly reminiscent of "The Fool on the Hill." "Doo-doos" and humming fill some of the verses and give off the impression of a Paul solo act. The second acoustic that enters toward the very end provides a really nice harmony. This is about as shmaltzy as I can take from Paul; "The Long and Winding Road" off of Let it Be carries this style just a bit too far.

"Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except for Me and My Monkey" - is one of the more ebullient, frantic and uplifting songs from the John wing. You can practically see him shaking his head jubilantly back and forth through "Come on it's SUCH A JOY!" The track is filled with yelps and screaming guitar licks; even the polyrhythm of the drums adds to the out-of-control party ideal expressed here. The title is, natch, a little goofy, and hearing the vocals ramble on spasmodically is delightful. The instrumental bass rumble near the two minute mark is one of *those* moments for me. This song really sounds like it belong somewhere back in the "And Your Bird Can Sing" part of the catalog, but it's a welcome addition here.

"Sexy Sadie" - definitely a John song, but the multiple passages and all-over-the-map instrumental contributions make his yet another classic "Beatlesque" tune. It opens with a reverberating piano and progresses to John's accusatory lyrics (originally intended, it seems, for the Maharishi) backed by Wah-wah-wah-wah vocals. Keep an ear out for some Beatles-divinity at the 0:54 mark ("One sunny day...") with a subtle guitar ringing and rounding out the sound. There's a ton going on here with countervocals, guitar running against piano, the lead vocal going atmospheric... quite an interesting song.

"Helter Skelter" - I specifically remember making a last-ditch effort at swaying Mike NTPB from his pop music oriented ways by (ironically, I note, this being the most popular band ever) playing this one very loud for him and trying to get him to guess who had written it, when it was recorded, etc. It didn't work, though I think he was surprised to learn that music made in 1968 sounded remotely like this. Famously a response to the Who's effort to write "the nastiest track ever" or somesuch, Paul penned this Black Sabbath-esque metal number and let it absolutely rock out. It's a blast of a song to play, and it is definitely the nastiest thing in the Beatles catalog. I don't know how many times my dad has busted out the Ringo-screamed "I got blisters on my fingers!" line as a joke. This is quite an angry tune, an all time metal classic, and Exhibit 1A in Paul's defense against accusations of just writing "Silly Love Songs." The even more plodding, even darker and bluesier version on the Anthology disc is also a must-hear. Five star tune.

"Long Long Long" - from the loudest, RAWKingnest to a reserved dream tune from George. He wakes up a bit midsong ("So many tears..."), but this is still one of the most meditative tracks on the pair of discs. It's a little tonally mundane, which is fine given its serene aspect, but makes it less memorable (especially considering what it's surrounded by). Weird experimental ending wakes the listener up just in time for...

"Revolution 1" - the doo-wop and original version, this will forever sound very, very slow to me since I was raised on a raging electric lead during Nike commercials. There's a brass band backing the lead in addition to all of the "Shooby-doo-bop" vocals, and the full effect is a psychedelic pastiche. John got himself into a spot of trouble by following the "you can count me out" line with an ambivalent "in?" The song, obviously, is quite anti-revolutionary, but that little vocal flourish gave the Anti-establishment kids an "in" and made this one of those songs that split parents and youth. The guitar lick alludes to simpler "Day Tripper" times, and it's a singular winner. Fantastic song, though again, the single version is forever the "real" one for me.

"Honey Pie" - the other vaudeville Paul tune. The scratchy record effect employed at the beginning is a nice touch; otherwise this is another catchy Paul tune that nails the British 1920s (or so) genre with swelling clarinets and tuba-ish bassline. I don't know if I ever listened to this without picturing Paul in a top hat with swinging cane. Catchy tune, Paul through and through.

"Savoy Truffle"- another raucous, somewhat sinister tune about, allegedly, a wide variety of chocolates. This a great George single in the "Run for Your Life" style with a buzzing horn line providing all kinds of, sorry, delicious runs through the tune. It has another self-referential moment in the "We all know ob-la-di, bla-da / But can you show me where you are?" I've got no clue on that one. Something has always sounded bitter about this song to me; still, it's catchy and energetic and features George's usual punctuated guitar fills and fiery, contained solos.

"Cry Baby Cry" - Simple acoustic ballad with some rather obscure lyrics (e.g., "The king of Marigold was in the kitchen / Cooking breakfast for the queen"), a murky line from what the wikipedia tells me is a harmonium, and a build of piano chords. Yet another lovely melody in this song that swells and adds band members throughout the process; this nursery-rhyme sort of song is the last track on the album that actually features the Beatles as a band proper. "CBC" ends and an abrupt ditty from Paul creeps in ("Can you take me back where I came from / Can you take me back?"). It's a complete non sequitur that adds to the mystery of the song and transitions effectively to

"Revolution 9" - In my junior year of high school, I listened to music right before going to sleep practically every night. One night in particular this album was in my player, and I must've drifted off fairly early on. So let's say I went to bed around midnight. At about 1:20 in the morning, in the pitch black, this experimental tape look number came on. I was snapped awake from the middle of some severely inappropriate sleep cycle in the most disorienting way possible - I didn't know where/who/when I was, all I knew is that a scary voice was stereo-tracking across the room calmly saying "Number Nine." And I specifically remember "Block that kick" and the cackling sounds of laughter popping up, too. And lasers, and TV western sounds, and you get the idea. Understandably, I was terrified, and it took some mad scrambling about the room and the slamming of a stop button to restore sanity to the world. That's one of maybe three times I've listened to this tune in my life (the fourth being at this very moment), and I've never quite forgiven it. As madhat tape-splicing excursions go, it's effective, but it's hardly worthwhile beyond its novelty. Listen - at your peril - for Yoko (I think) saying "You become naked" towards the end; this line had to be the inspiration for the non sequitur "I become naked" from the Pearl Jam experimental oddity "Bugs"from Vitalogy.

"Good Night" - I have listened to Revolution 9 more times in my life than I have listened to this song. I absolutely hate it; it's a terrible lullaby that had no business on this album. Damn you, Ringo!

Phew. 30 tracks, the last two overt stinkers (or one "art track" and "one icepick-to-the-temple-schmaltzy" track). But all of the others make for an exquisite, heterogeneous masterpiece. This review has dragged on quite long enough; suffice it to say that even though healthy portions of this album are goofy or toss off, the whole thing coheres via some still-unparalleled musicianship and songwriting. I'll leave with another view of the White Album classified by my five and four star song rankings; everybody has different favorites off of this, and the variety just lends itself to different faces of the album being loved by different people. What a great pair of discs, and like Tommy Lee Jones in MIB, I look forward to repurchasing it every time a new music medium comes out.

Five Stars: "WMGGW," "HiaWG," "YB," and "HS"
Four Stars: "BitU," "DP," "GO," "IST," "B," "RR," "J," "B," "EGStHEfMaMM," and "CBC."
Three Stars: Everything else except "WHP," "R9," and "GN."

Status: Desert Island Recommended
Nyet's Faves: "I'm So Tired" and "Yer Blues"

P.S. Oh, and since this is in the Phish series, the 10.31.94 performance of the White Album in its entirety was perhaps the truest-to-the-original album cover by the band (though they were pretty true to the original with Dark Side, too). They don't extend or jam on much of anything. But they pulled the cover off off with aplomb and a TON of energy. Some of the notable, um, Phish-nicities: Trey alters the lyrics to talk about Phish animal characters in "Glass Onion;" "WMGGW" smokes in "Trey is a Jedi" fashion, and Phish continued to cover this tune well after the show (I caught it 7.15.2000); "Don't Pass Me By" is played in a wacky doubletime / bluegrass style and appropriately sung by Fishman; "Birthday" is played in a weird minor key repeat of the main riff and features a spoken word birthday wish to one of the stage managers; "HS" is played in a really abrasive, dissonant manner and breaks down into an a cappella "I've got blisters on my fingers" choral close; their take on "Rev 1" is somewhere between the tempos of "Rev" and "Rev 1;" "CBC" is another one that made it into the Phish rotation (you can hear it on Hampton Comes Alive); Rev 9 involved an extended vacuum solo and, supposedly, some Fishman nudity; AND the band had the good sense to skip "Good Night" because it's a terrible, terrible song. This also happens to be one of the original Phish bootleg tapes I got from the very kind Phish community leader Ellis Godard, and I'm forever grateful for that.

Hello.

THAT was the best two month nap I've ever had.

Well, what happened was a confluence of a number of things. One, I got mired in writing two term papers, both of which I waited a little too long into the semester to start writing (though I had done a fair amount of reading for both along the way). That'll be a good mistake to not replicate. Still, the relevant-to-you consequence was that I spent several days in a row hammering away at papers, both of which i was not thrilled with and so required a lot of nitpicky editing and brain-wracking editing. Basically the sort of stuff that would have made for the worst blog-reading you've ever encountered, things like, "Today, I fixed minutiae X about topic that you do not care about Y; it took me Z hours and this is all i've been thinking about for days and I have become a unidimensional log bump." See, you didn't need that. If you're really interested, one paper was on scientific realism and the need for a working understanding of scientific model justification amongst policy-makers; the other was on the possibility of cross-cultural translation in cultural psychology and a recommendation for statistics-based methods of validating comparisons of intercultural test results. Sexy, sexy, i know.

Two, my hard drive crashed. Well, first my computer turned into a discombobulated pile of mechanical do-nothing, which turned out to be due to the hard drive slowly corrupting and the CPU having trouble accessing the appropriate files for start up, running programs, etc. I spent a couple of days practicing all kinds of ninja-witch magic on my computer getting it back up to form, and it ran well for abut a day before whatever corruption that was going on in the hard drive finished itself and it (the computer's soul) emitted its death croak. Because I am so SMRT, though, I had backed everything important up (well, most everything*), and manged to rebuild my computer on the backup hard drive I installed a while back. Reincarnation, yes. The end of this was that after finishing my papers and having absolutely nothing exciting to write about, I had spend several days frustratingly banging away at my computer. I had become unidimensional in another dimension (what?), and not only that, it was a dimension that made me want to avoid the computer at all costs. So I didn't blog through that ordeal either.

* - I'm still missing some of the miscellaneous software that I can't find discs and/or registration codes for - things like a photoshop clone, my music recording software, etc. Non-essentials, and I'll eventually get it together and put them back on the machine. No worries. The big things - photos, music files - are all good to go and thoroughly backed up. Take that, fallible human artifacts.

Three, I made an executive decision, partially in an effort to save money and partially just because I wasn't using it, to cancel my GoDaddy account and thereby rid the world of nyetjones.org. That website is all backed up, too, so I'll start the slow and insanely boring project of transferring all of those blog entries and any other redeeming content over here sometime soon. I don't know if anybody even noticed this - certainly no one has contacted me about it - which just speaks to the pointlessness of maintaining such an unviewed website. This, in addition to my blogging apathy, only furthered the elimination of my active online presence, and at some point in here I began to seriously question the audacity of updating the unseen millions (okay, unseen twelves) w/r/t my daily activities. This is what is known in the biz as a lack of motivation.

Four, perhaps obviously, the vast majority of my blogging of late had been all about Ultimate, and there were no league games to recap. I could have told you all kinds of exciting things about pickup, but that would have been even dumber than the VOTS writeups. I also could have told you about some exciting softball times (2nd place finish in spring league; lotsa stupidity in the il Vileno realm)... actually, that Il Vileno stuff probably contributed to my apathy quite a bit. Lotsa effort, totally unappreciated. Eff that; no more discussion necessary.

Five, after finishing those two papers, my job has effectively turned into full-time reading. I'm getting a lot done and forming a strong base on which to build whatever thesis plan I'm going to design this year, but again, the daily accounts of "today I read pages 231-398, yay" did not seem especially enticing. I've also been running into repeated super-stupid arguments or, more exactly, clear exhibits of the world of academia being entirely self-concerned/located and not really interested in any application to the real world outside of itself, which is somewhat disheartening. This is a little bit of a difficult feeling to convey, especially since it's not like it's something I wasn't aware of; the concept of ivory tower is hardly a hidden one. But seeing its mechanisms up close, repeatedly, just got old, and I didn't want to blog about a broken-record wah wah of my feelings of how insular the academic world is and how difficult any authentic interaction with the world from within it is likely to be. I chose to silence my inner Eeyore.

Effectively, I've been feeling like quite a boring human being of late and did not want to blog about it terribly much. But I've decided over the past couple days that July 1st was a good enough time to snap out of the fnuk and realize that there have been quite a few things going on of late that I could have thrown on here. In no particular order:

1. Julliette got married! Huzzah! We went to New Orleans. I will post about this.
2. Andy got married. Huzzah deux!!! We went to Long island. I will post about this.
3. I say Mike whilst in Nueva York! And new SLF Jen! I will post about this.
4. Beck's been playign real life women's frisbee! On a team I am coaching! I will post about this.
5. I made the local club team Sprawl! I am an O-line player! I will post about this.
6. Phish has been back on tour! This is unspeakably great! I will post about this.
7. I organized a Saturday morning competitive Ultimate game for money. This is all kinds of awesome. I... have pretty much relayed everything you need to know about that.

Alright. That's a good framework to start, and between those beauts and the backlog of old posts that I'll throw up soon (throw up, HA - no really, you can go down memory lane a read a whole lot of Ali-Ben content!), you should have some entertainment coming up. Soon. I promise. No, really.

Oh, and I have about 2000 saved links to share, none of which will be current any more.

Grimmace

In this metaphor, Grimmace is both my face and my shoulder; I am the consumed toddler. Shoulder is still hurting a lot though manageable; getting sharp pains right around the biceps tendon insert in front and back just under the acromion (for all you anatomy-heads out there). I am getting actively livid with this as it seems that all I could have possibly done was sleep on it funny. LOL, Enter. Anyways, I think I am just going to grimmace a lot and bear it; hopefully I just strained some tendons in the capsule with my sleeping antics and all will be okay in a couple of days. I'll keep you posted.

Before I forget, here's the classic video of G'N'R at the Ritz performing Knockin' on Heaven's Door. This will give you an idea of what Mike was aiming for. Incidentally, I really like the Slash solo here and the ridiculous "just the play the same high D flat over and over" ending. Imho, this version is better than the one that ended up on UYI II, - just a little less gospel choiry and appropriately subdued, if a little sloppily played - though the call and response is vastly more ridiculous. Let this one be LOUUUUUD!

Dan and Christina's (with Wren, Tim & Naia) was fun last night - great food (potato leek soup, salad, mashed potatoes and delicious roast beef, capped by Beck's mousse, raspberry sauce and whip cream) and great times. Naia is running around like a maniac these days. We taught her to fist bump on their way out, so shes now sufficiently hip (if Dan's indie rock playlist didn't do the trick before that). Anyhoo, another fun evening; today we're supposed to celebrate the opening of Phoenix's light rail by partying at Stinkweed's, so more D&C-based fun in store.

That's about it from here - I'll leave you with some ore G'N'R content because hey, that seems to be the kick these days, and I'll even give you some bonus points if you can name this song before it is revealed when the video runs out:

Slight Respite: A Misc Mix

Trekked into school today and put in the last couple of hours on a quick research project I was doing for Jason. 'Twas about some of the neuroscience aspects of using model organisms for research. Not my favorite topic, and I didn't do a bang-up job, but I got something down on paper, so there's a physical thing to build from. Always helpful. Given that he and everybody else are absent for the holidays, I'm going to work from home until at least after Christmas day. Wahoo.

(In other school-related news, I got my grades back from my papers today, and everything went swimmingly to the tune of a 4.12 GPA for my first semester. Wahoo Two. Before you get too excited, I am told everyone and their dogs get As in grad school, so all this really means is that I am mediocrely competent and didn't overtly offend anyone's academic senses. Go Team Nyet).

Good Sunday - got some reading done in the morning and played a solid couple of hours of Ultimate in the PM. I ended the day with a crazy back of the endzone full layout catch on a big huck from Vince; tres exciting Ultimate action to win the game. Much better than regular frisbee, indeed. More importantly, I talked to Aaron yesterday and he had a much better time at his Austin Ultimate league. He's getting back into the swing of things after a long break from bigger, whiter, floatier (BETTER) disc sports, and after a shocker of a first week, it sounds like he is back on track for glory. We'll be sure to get some intense training in over New Year's and turn him into an indomitable beast. A forehand flickin', chump-skyin', layout-Din' beast. Raw; scream.

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This is a quick interlude to allude to things TIP. For those of you who don't know, Mike NTPB and I attend the Duke Talent Identification Program during our wayward youth. It is best defined as nerd camp; we took college-esque classes like Film and Intro to Philosophy while hanging out with dorks of our own ilk and girls who would talk to us. Unbelievably formative, at least for me; among other things, this was where I picked up Ultimate and a penchant for dancing the Time Warp. I'll save a detailed rundown of it for a rainy day post, but the things you need to know are this: 1, we had this friend Franklin who apparently has used the powers of e-mail to dominate Hollywood. I can't even explain this; Franklin was a shy child genius who seemed destined for I.R. glory or something, and now he's a bedreadlocked big guy behind the scenes. Who knew. That link is probably wildly uninteresting to you, but... hmmmm, let's say that Mr. Rogers turning out to have fronted a punk band in the late seventies has about equal "WHAT???" value. Anyways, thing 2 that you should know is that every year ended with a talent show. Mike mentioned this as his most embarrassing moment the other day in the comments, and what is scary to me is that I have no recollection of this whatsoever: we played G'n'R's version of "Knockin' on Heaven's Door," complete with Mike playing Axl and a call and response section. And apparently Mike couldn't hear himself or the audience or anything - no monitors at the TIP talent show, unshockingly - and so he essentially did a call and response sans response. Holding the mic out to the crowd and everything. Oh wow. This is just stupendous. And I can't believe I don't have it trapped between my ears somewhere. So next time you need to calm yourself down before speaking in public, just think to yourself, "as long as I don't warble "knock knock knockin' on heaven's dowowowowoorrr, hey hey yeah" and hold the mic out to a cricket crowd, I am okay." Yikes. Serious bonus points to Mike for surviving that.
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We capped Friday with dinner with D&C for the first time in a while - hit up a place called Ticoz which had some reasonably tasty southwest fare and some OH TRES CHIC attitude as well. Another one of those restaurants - maybe not as bad as Ra Sushi in this department - that made me feel like I wasn't anywhere near cool enough to be there. Fun times with D&C regardless, and we headed back to their place to watch the truly bizarre 2008 European MTV music awards despues. Why bizarre? Um, I had a dream once that Jared Leto crappily interviewed miscellaneous rock stars, Katy Perry¹ screamed her brains out to introduce acts called the Ting Tings, Kanye West dressed like Carlton from the Fresh Prince circa 1991, Kid Rock ruled a place called the Irony Free Zone², a slew of wackos gave shoutouts to Liverpool, Bono verbally climaxed as he introduced Paul McCartney, and then Paul actually showed up to pump his fist in half-assed they paid me to be here triumph. But the dream WAS REAL. Yikes.

I can't remember past that. It was raining a lot last week, as I recall. Anyhoo, I'll try and get some posting done over the next few days. Hope everyone's having a great holiday. And a big happy birthday eve to the Dadster!

¹ Don't know Katy Perry, eh? Well, that's amazing, because her trite songs have been all over the place this year. You should know that she has a white-washed weak drunk girls night out lesbian experience song and another that perpetuates the use of the term gay as a mild derogative. Did I mention she's a former Christian rock artist turned pop-sex prostitutestarlett? You stay genuine, Katy. Let's just let the allmusic review of her album describe her relative place in the trash pop spectrum: "she sinks to crass, craven depths that turn One of the Boys into a grotesque emblem of all the wretched excesses of this decade."

² As dubbed by MC Dan. I don't think that's original*, but it quite aptly describes the fur wearing blues mangler ripping off Warren Zevon and Lynyrd Skynyrd simultaneously in his sad sack summer single. I like that the same show welcoming him as a legend follows up with Bono and PM. That's just great.

* - It has come to my attention that "Irony Free Zone" is a DFW-ism.

Alright, Fine, Mike NTPB, You Win

Today's project from which I am currently taking a break is to clean up the house enough to take some photos and post them here and/or make it presentable enough to have people over at some point. Cleaning sucks, insert your favorite Hoover joke here. This is why we oppress the economically disadvantaged, forget to check their IDs and leave piles of cash for them to do that with rags and solvents which we would rather not. Unfortunately, Beck and I have too much political integrity not enough cash to partake in that particular dialectic, so we have to do it ourselves. Our house is notably less neat than others, but that's okay.

The only thing that makes it mildly tolerable is cranking up serious rock while you do it. In light of last night's comment from Trey's sidekick, I've put the entire G'n'R catalog on in chronological order. And we're just now wrapping up II, the album in question. Now, with the caveat that the version I have in my iTunes lacks the egregious tracks ("Don't Cry (Alt Lyrics)" and "My World"), I must say that I am finding myself more sympathetic. I can't really go around saying that I'm in love with ridiculous G'N'R grandeur and then get upset with them for cussing out Bob Guccione, Jr. from Spin in the middle of a song. You gotta eat the whole sandwich, as the expression goes. And this one has COOL RANCH DRESSING.

So Fine, Miguel, Don't Cry (Alt Lyrics). You Could Be right. We should resolve this Civilly and not end up Estranged. I Breakdown. I guess I'm just Pretty Tied Up about this. I'll go ahead and Use Your Illusion of Two missing tracks to bump it up to a 70. Are you happy? Now My World is the same as yours, and different from Yesterday's.

Hold on, someone's Knockin'.

I'm back. It was just some Loco motorist. Something about a Shotgun wedding, and he's Gettin' the Ring. Odd. I feel Perilously Complicit in something.

If I'm calculating this correctly - and I am - it's been at least 14 Years since I've used this joke.
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Now playing: Guns N' Roses - You Could Be Mine