Sunday, January 31, 2021

Album of the Week: OK Human

Alright, look, up until like three days ago, this wasn't the Album of the Week. I was originally gonna go with Clap Your Hands Say Yeah's new one, had this whole blog post finished and ready to go, and then CYHSY pushed it back two weeks. Sincere bummer. So I'm looking for a last-minute replacement, and staring at the list of new albums coming out Friday 1/29/21, and even though there are a ton of intriguing releases that I would love everyone to check out with me, I went with this basic bitch selection, simply because I know there are gonna be some people out there reading this who feel like writing about Weezer. It's an easy band to write about. This is a bald-faced attempt at garnering as many reviews this week as possible.
 
Archives HERE, playlist HERE, this week's album below.

WEEK 105 — January 31-February 6, 2021

What we're listening to this week (Joe's pick):


ALBUM: OK Human
ARTIST: Weezer

RELEASED: January 29, 2021

WHAT GENRE IS THIS: Weezer is whatever genre you want them to be, baby

WHY JOE PICKED IT: See introduction

TRACKLIST:
  1. All My Favorite Songs
  2. Aloo Gobi
  3. Grapes of Wrath
  4. Numbers
  5. Playing My Piano
  6. Mirror Image
  7. Screens
  8. Bird with a Broken Wing
  9. Dead Roses
  10. Everything Happens for a Reason
  11. Here Comes the Rain
  12. La Brea Tar Pits
LENGTH: 30:32
 
WHERE TO LISTEN FOR FREE: YouTube

READING SOME SHIT: Read this article about "Africa" to remind yourself that Weezer didn't create "Africa."

Happy listening, fam! Have a great week!

Saturday, January 30, 2021

A Year of Blind Spots: Fresh Cream

I'm exploring a different classic album every week, in a random order, and every Saturday giving each of those albums a couple hundred words at most.


Cream, one of the original power trios. Let's briefly hit each member, one at a time.

JACK BRUCE: Maybe it shouldn't surprise me that Fresh Cream stuffs its 34-minute runtime with heapings of psychedelia, since it was released in 1966, but it still caught me a little off-guard. The ratio of trippy psych rock to hard rock on this album is the inverse of the sum of my knowledge of Cream via their radio presence. Seeing as how Jack Bruce has the majority of songwriting credits and all but one of the vocal performances on Fresh Cream, I'm going to assume that this is his doing.
 
I mean, I'm not seeing too many explicitly 1960's-psychedelic-cliché-type musical projects in his career prior to Cream—the Graham Bond Organisation is described as "progressive rock / jazz fusion" and John Mayall & the Bluesbreakers as "British blues"—so I guess he was just riding the wave of the times, especially on this first Cream album (from what I recall, Disraeli Gears gets a little harder around the edges). I like it, and it kinda makes me want to travel down a few more trippy paths like this in the future (or maybe that's just because the hard rock Cream that I know from the radio has already burned me out).

ERIC CLAPTON: It always kinda confused me that this "legendary" guitarist would be so accepting of a nickname like "Slowhand." I know there's a whole story about it being a reference to Clapton's meticulousness when changing his guitar strings, but as someone who expects a guitar player to have fast hands, I always thought it was an indicator that Eric Clapton is supremely overrated as a guitarist.

I have no idea, though, really. I don't play the guitar or have an intimate knowledge of guitar-playing. He seems fine on Fresh Cream. Nothing noteworthy in the guitar work, as far as I can tell, but nothing boring or pedestrian either.

What I do know, however, is that Eric Clapton is historically a huge fucking racist, and more recently an anti-masker, so... the guitar performance is almost besides the point when discussing this douchebag.

GINGER BAKER: I haven't drummed with regularity in almost a decade (will be ten years this summer since I unofficially hung up the sticks), and yet I still consider myself a "drummer." Some shit never leaves you. Also never leaving me: the fact that I am one clueless ignorant motherfucker. If I was really a drummer, then I should've known about "Toad." I didn't.
 
"Toad," written and performed by Ginger Baker, is one of classic rock's first true drum solos. I refuse to Elvis Theory this solo away—sure, it's not as "creative," per se, as many of rock's famous drum solos that would follow, but it is still proficient and powerful enough that it gives off the "wow" factor anyway. I dunno, maybe I'm just saying this as a drummer, but I thought it was a great fucking way to end Fresh Cream. Maybe people with less appreciation for the percussive arts might be inclined to skip "Toad" when it arrives.
 
Just like "Toad" is to all rock drum solos, I now see Ginger Baker as sort of a godfather to all rock drumming that succeeded him. He didn't have the heft and depth of John Bonham, he lacked the true blue insanity of Keith Moon, he could never match the robotic technical precision of Neil Peart. And yet none of those drummers would even fucking exist if Ginger Baker wasn't doing his thing on this album and on "Toad."



Friday, January 29, 2021

Emphatically No., Pam


Listening to Emphatically No. made me simultaneously feel a little old but I also enormously related to a lot of Cheekface’s witty lyrics and overall sentiments. If these are the problems of today’s youth—where do I fit in? Their monotone vocal stylings suit their snarky lyrics pretty perfectly. Themes, to me, included a sense of apathy, but at the same time anxiety. On one hand, apathy for big things going down ("The climate changed and I left it on read"—what a great metaphor, btw) and on the other, panic at the idea of social interaction. I love their cover art, and Emphatically No. is hilariously candid not excluding real sincerity. I just wish I knew what the buttered bread (buttered side down) was a metaphor for?!

Emphatically No., Sunny


Do I love buttered bread?

Does it make sense to juxtapose dropping it with a failing environment, economy, society?

Are we past the nasty, brutish, and short period of civilization?

So it's crushing, boring, and long instead (with no slow joke to tell)?

Is it boring because of an over-obsession with getting back to "normal?"

Is that obsession driving us anxious-insane?

And the powers-that-be want us glued 24/7 to get more anxious?

Even though real change and getting more anxious has no connection?

Do we need to find rent control for our spleens?

Should you avoid bad advice, given expertly and good advice, given poorly?

Is that hypocritical to ask?

Am I happy to hear another album poking at "self care?"

And isn't a tat cheaper than talking to some dude?

Because you're already fully complete as a human being with no need to pursue futile efforts like someone else's notion of "self improvement?"

Does it work to sing-talk about all this with cute one-liners and clever couplets?

In a style between a more acerbic TMBG and less pretentious Car Seat Headrest (or whatever your reference points are)?

With thematic comparisons that you might call cheeky, tight under 35 minutes?

And simple, catchy basslines next to the occasional guitar flourish (like in "Emotional Rent Control")?

Did I have a lot of fun with this album, and this "review?"

Emphatically Yes.

Emphatically No., Brittany


Hello Record Club!

So, I’ve been trying to listen to the albums that people have picked as much as possible, believe it or not, and as I listen, I brainstorm things I'll write for the review, but then Wednesday rolls around and I forget to take a few mins to jot my thoughts down. The Miley Cyrus album took me down a deep rabbit hole about Miley's life and evolution into an adult, got thinking about nature vs nurture, all the struggles she probably had with being a child star and daughter of a celebrity, growing up with money etc. etc. Maybe I will still go back and write that review.

BUT! Anyway, back to this week’s album—Cheekface, Emphatically No. Overall, I liked this album. It was spunky, fun, and I liked how the lyrics seemed to be random and a little off the wall, but also were sending a message.  I enjoyed the specific references to current/relevant culture. My ears definitely perked up at the mention of Applebee's in "Big Big Friend," and Lena Dunham being an annoying genius in "Don’t Get Hit by a Car." I thought the lyrics were creative, relevant and relatable (e.g. "Life is long like a CVS receipt"). I really liked "Don’t Get Hit by a Car," specifically the lyrics "Sometimes I wonder if a single good thing exists on Earth, and then I eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch."  As for the actual music of this record, nothing really stood out to me.  I didn’t think there were extremely memorable riffs, no super catchy choruses (to me, anyway), but at the same time, I thought the sound was unique.

I think the overall message painted a mundane picture of the world today with humans being victims of consumerism, “human trash” being everywhere, and this idea that humans are trapped in these lives that have lost genuine meaning or connection in their relationships or actions over time, but continuing to go through the motions, day in and day out. Oddly enough though, despite this seemingly negative view the overall album painted, I think they did it with a humor that I appreciated, that pointed out irony in the times we are living in (e.g. "Follow your heart. No."; "Sending our heartfelt apologies from the royal we... that's me and my phone.”) But yeah, that was the overall take I got from the album and I’ll be interested in seeing what other people might have taken away from it.

I’m not sure I’d listen to this album over and over again, but it definitely caught my attention and made me think a little bit. Overall, I liked it!  Good pick, Pammy!

Emphatically No., Nate




                                                                                                            —Nate

Emphatically No., Joe


Before I forget—the trio of guitar/bass/drums is pretty tight on Emphatically No., and I have zero complaints, even if, in the context of this album, they are pretty much beside the point. They are good at what they do—a couple cool solos, otherwise the rhythm stays in the pocket—but they might as well be a trio playing at a cocktail hour in some Plumbers Union Hall off of State Road, as far as the music is concerned.

But you can tell by the end of the first song that this is a very lyrics-front album (which, as an aside, makes it stand in pretty stark contrast to the last three albums covered in Record Club, for one reason or another). You appreciation of Cheekface is going to sink or float depending on what you think about these lyrics. I could see it going either way for most of PoYB's readership. I personally am pretty torn.

The first problem is that a lot of the content of the lyrics seem to be explicitly designed for plugged-in millennials to be able to say: "Hey, I know what he is talking about." This annoys me because I am a plugged-in millennial and I am self-hating, but also because there isn't much commentary on the references—Cheekface is content to just drop semi-specific internet references for no reason other than the fact that it's a meme (I know! That word! Ugh!!!). Just some examples: pink Starbursts, CVS receipts, dumpster fires, emergency alerts. All these phrases have a secondary meaning if you've scrolled through Reddit every day for the past seven years. It just annoys me that making such references is what passes for "clever" on a rock album. (Like I said: self-hating.)

The second problem is that frontman Greg Katz sings a lot of these lines like you can just tell he fucking thinks the lines are so fucking clever. I'm not complaining about the mostly droll delivery, I'm actually complaining about those moments when he loses the drollness and attempts to inject some cadence into the delivery as if to tell the audience that this is supposed to be a punchline or something. A more succinct way to say it: You've heard of faces being punchable, but this is a voice that is more punchable than a male SNL cast member.

Still, these are more likely Joe-problems than general problems (though I will say, as another aside, that I'm surprised Pam has been liking the album so far, since the sense of humor here is pretty similar to Sledding with Tigers and their Space Jam rock opera EP, which historically Pam has hated with a fiery passion, but maybe sense of humor is pretty low on her list of musical attributes she gives a fuck about).

And even despite my qualms, there are plenty of times that a particular song comes together despite itself. I mean, the dude literally claims at one point that he is "right twice a day," and the assessment is dead-on as far as my appreciation for the lyrics goes. Brush away all the Cinnamon Toast Crunch references and other brutally lame non sequiturs, and you'll occasionally find a couple nuggets of inspired wisdom.

"Emotional Rent Control" is a good example of a song where it all comes together (possibly by coincidence, but still). It has a coherent theme: how a thousand little societal obligations can add up inside you and create a kind of pressure that affects your overall well-being. And it has specific examples that don't come off as lazy memeing: "Is it a business or a hobby?" speaking to the fucked up Etsy-esque monetization of everything you enjoy; "replace all vowels with asterisks" (e.g. "tr*mp"). Plus, the line "young, dumb, and full of... psychiatric medication" is a legitimately funny line. Plus plus, the line reading of "giant freaking Snickers bar full of ice cream" is the only line on the album that's made better by Katz's delivery. Good song.

And I guess I should clarify that I don't usually have anything negative to say about music that features this type of tuneless vocals. Cheekface can be compared to plenty of other bands—Cake (Pam immediately pinpointed this one), Parquet Courts (made by someone whose pain over Tom Brady's participation in yet another Super Bowl next week might make them want to shout expletives in his direction), the Cars (the band's own comparison, via Genius.com), Minutemen (you may know them as the band whose song "Corona" was chosen as the immortal Jackass theme song, which is sound-checked at the beginning of "(I Don't Want to Go to) Calabasas"), um, Baz Luhrmann (c'mon, you didn't need the sunscreen reference in "Crying Back" to make the connection)—and all those other bands (besides Luhrmann, probably) are at least pretty good in my book, if not great.

The difference, again, has more to do with my particular hang-ups when it comes to interacting with another brain that has clearly been fried by the internet. It makes me uncomfortable.
 
Still, credit to Cheekface for being good enough for the most part to allow to me to forget about those hang-ups and enjoy the album. Like, there's probably a hard limit regarding how many times I can cringe over a 35-minute period, and Cheekface manages to stay just below that limit on Emphatically No. 
 
And who knows, man, maybe you're reading this right after you got done Liking the last dregs of "2020 Was Awful" memes posted by Fuck Jerry on your TL, and now you're thinking that Cheekface might be the perfect band for you. That's great. Enjoy. At the end of the day, we can at least agree that there are way worse bands and way worse albums out there. Emphatically No? More like Equivocally Yes.

GRADE: 3 pukes out of 5

Thursday, January 28, 2021

Never Seen It, #30 of 200: Cabaret

It's been almost a year since I made a list of 200 movies I'd never seen before, and started working my way through the list alphabetically, and now I'm just 15% finished, and I should really pick up the pace (I would probably be done the goddamn list if I didn't force myself to write about them).


Cabaret
1972

Hinted at in both my previous Never Seen It entry (Butch Cassidy, with Frank) and in another random movie blog post a few weeks ago (about Soul, specifically), I'm starting to get a little weary of the fact that I tend to zoom out a little too far after a viewing experience, tend to focus on gloopy flaccid big picture ideas while ignoring the myriad of important little details that can separate the wheat films from the chaff films. So with Cabaret, I made at least somewhat of an effort to take some notes on specific filmmaking aspects that I noticed, mostly little things that I thought Cabaret (and by extension, the actors, director, crew, etc.) did well.

In retrospect, Cabaret was probably a good movie to perform this exercise for, since—if you'll allow me just one tiny moment to zoom out, just once—I didn't think Cabaret was very successful in telling a compelling or interesting or cohesive story. Clearly, the film wanted to trace the rise of Nazism in Germany as a backdrop to a romance, but the whole Nazi part felt a little too backgrounded, if that makes sense. I was not all that interested in the drama happening on center stage between an American flapper and a British bisexual academic—that description makes it seem a lot less droll than it actually was on screen—but I would have been interested in what was happening around the margins, with Germany slowly slipping into authoritarian control. But that stuff was so far out in the margins that you could barely see it. I get that the film was going for a "but if this ever happened to you then it might happen in the margins of your life too!" type of thing, but that fucked up the balance, and I was just bored for a lot of it.
 
From what little I remember from the theater production Pam and I saw like three-ish years ago (so yes, I was familiar with the story already, maybe that's why I was so hard on the movie's take on it?), the Nazism was a little more front and center in the stage version. Still somewhat in the background, but the characters were clearly within that world, instead of completely besides it. Plus, the B-plot was completely changed, adjusted for 1970s American audiences I presume, for whatever reason (not even worth getting into here, honestly). But whereas I remember being enthralled with Arden Theater Company's version of Cabaret, Bob Fosse's movie version, for reasons that I have to assume were story-related, left me completely flat.

So let's zoom back in, and see if there was anything I appreciated on a more molecular level. Was Cabaret a complete bust? Absolutely not. I thought there were things it did successfully, even if, as a whole, the movie didn't quite work all that well.

Probably the biggest thing I appreciated was the editing, and how certain shots were definitely designed to elicit an emotion out of its audience. (Is "shots" the right term there? I've never come within 50 yards of a film class. "Edits" maybe? I don't know.) I'm first thinking of two specific cuts that got opposite reactions out of me. One of when Sally and Maximillian were obnoxiously giggling through brunch, with a brutal out-of-nowhere cut to a dead body, having been killed by Nazis (which told us that our protagonists were blissfully unaware of the horrors building up around them). The other was a smash cut from Brian at the very start of a confrontation with a group of Nazis to a close-up of his bandaged and bloodied face in a hospital bed (which told us that Cabaret can ever have a sense of humor about the violence, I guess).

I also thought the constant interludes of performances back at the actual Cabaret show were intriguing. As a filmmaking choice, I thought it was the wrong one—they were both too obvious (yes, we get it, the silly songs also reflect what will be happening in the next scene) and too superfluous (what, exactly, are these long performances adding to the film besides spectacle?). But taken individually, I thought each of them were pretty well-done. You could tell that Bob Fosse knew his way around a choreographed dance, in other words. Plus, I thought it was interesting how they framed the audiences of these performances. Lots of close-ups of fat guffawing faces, lots of disorienting camera angles, lots of slapstick-y performances that were not as funny as the audience made them out to be. Cabaret took great pains in making the audience seem like morons at best—and rightly so, since, ya know, Nazism was allowed to creep into the audience by the end. The audience was not conquered, they were complicit. (This is what I'm getting from the camera angles and edits, not from the story itself, which again, was too weak in this regard.)

And finally, I thought that the film did a good job with fucking with our expectations of some individual scenes, which could've seemed like a "gotchya" in less able hands. I'm thinking first of the Sally performance where she is just belting out her feelings on stage, and you're wondering why the audience is dead silent this time if they are normally slobbering and rambunctious... but then the camera zooms out and you realize that she is performing for an empty theater (a cringeworthy metaphor story-wise but admittedly a nice edit). I'm also thinking about the scene at the beer garden, where a teen boy starts singing this pretty little tune about Hope for Tomorrow, and you're thinking that this will be a nice little moment in the film, and then the camera zooms out again and you realize he's a Hitler Youth, and holy shit you were just about to compliment the singing abilities of a Nazi (definitely less cringeworthy of a decision story-wise, but then again this is like the only time the rise of fascism is made explicit in the film).

Was any of this enough to certify Cabaret as a "successful" film? Probably not, despite what the Oscars will tell you (eight wins, besting The Godfather's measly three). The flopsweat was visible throughout, and yet even so, I found myself bored most of the time (so much so that I definitely fell asleep for a half hour and had to rewatch the next morning before we viewed the back half that night). Even if there were dozens of little things that Cabaret did right, there were too many big, unavoidable things that Cabaret did wrong. I'm glad I watched it, but only because it was a good movie to make an attempt to notice the little things in the first place—the big picture certainly wasn't good enough to distract me from that attempt.
 
GRADE: 2 pukes out of 5
 
NEXT TIME: In a big attempt to see what else Martin Scorsese has to offer besides four-hour criminal epics, we're gonna try Cape Fear (and maybe talk to my Scorsese-fanboy friend Dwyer about it, depending on how quickly he's willing to answer emails).

Wednesday, January 27, 2021

Song of the Day: "Zombie"


"Zombie"
Fela Kuti
from Zombie
1977

Freedom of speech is a great thing, no one is disputing that. All I'm saying is that having that freedom can also make musicians a little soft, if they aren't careful. I mean, just look at the slate of performers on Joe Biden's inauguration day (sidenote: feels real weird capitalizing a President's name again on the blog): Lady Gaga, who used to be "out there" but finds herself right in the center these days whether her fans know it or not—now soft. Katy Perry, who used to incite ire by playacting homosexuality—now soft. Springsteen, who, let's be real, spent the last four years reading his diary on stage instead of mounting any resistance—soft. Justin Timberlake, previously swooning teens and ripping off bras, now a Troll even your grandmother loves—soft. Lin-Manuel Miranda, who loves to act hard on stage by doing some upper-class facsimile of hip hop—so, so soft.

Sure, everyone has a right to be relieved that the trump era has (temporarily?) come to an end, but it remains to be seen whether Joe Biden can do anything, or is willing to do anything, to reverse it. Just because 2021 Joe seems like a personification of a smiley face emoji after the horrors perpetuated by his predecessor, doesn't mean the man doesn't have a long, scary record of warmongering and capitalistic tendencies and an inability to see the big picture. Note: it's been a week, as of this writing, and children are still in cages.

But sure, it's our right to be soft, just as it's our right to bitch about it on some fucking blog. I understand that there is privilege involved. That I am even in a position to be able to publicly criticize trump and Biden and Springsteen in the same breath and face exactly zero consequences is a testament to my privilege. One need only look to Fela Kuti to understand what a lack of privilege might look like.

We are entering his story in media res, of course (what, you think I'm gonna read a goddamn book about a subject before running off to write about it?). In 1977, we find afrobeat musician release Zombie in his native Nigeria. The album, and especially its infamous twelve-minute title track, were intended as a protest song about the Nigerian government. Specifically, the titular "zombies" were a reference to the Nigerian military, accusing them of being thoughtless thugs who carried out a fascist regime's wishes without blinking. The song caught on—people as far as Ghana were chanting "zombie!!" at their police, much like an American might yell "pig!!" right before the American pigs bash his face in.

Because we're soft here in America, we might be likely to blow off the notion of "protest music." Plenty of artists released anti-trump music the last few years, but most of it didn't make much of a wave in any national sense (no, not even that Tim and Eric guy singing about trump taking a shit). If there was protest music, it was taken for granted, and really only existed because trump was especially noxious and because there was legally nothing that could be done to the artist in response. And I haven't heard any anti-Biden-administration protest music yet, even though he probably deserves some lobbed his way. That's because he's just a new shiny coat of paint on the broken-down vehicle of America (and yes, sure, again, much better than trump, if we're comparing).

The response to "Zombie" in 1977 from the Nigerian police military was... well, I mean, I don't think there is a way to overstate this. It was swift and harsh. Thousands of Nigerian soldiers swarmed his compound and burned it to the ground, destroying everything. Soldiers beat Fela Kuti to within an inch of his life. Soldiers murdered Fela Kuti's mother by throwing her out a window.

All this because of a song. And look, I'm not even saying that there aren't violent, fascist, governmental responses to nonviolent protests in America today. Just read over all 81 pages of the recently-released report regarding Philadelphia's response to the protests in May-June 2020: in response to the request that police stop killing black people, police trapped a bunch of citizens on a highway and committed a war crime against them. So my point isn't that America is all kumbaya while 1970s Nigeria was brutally authoritarian. Not even true.

My point is about music specifically, and about how mystified and horrified I was reading about what happened to Fela Kuti back then in response to his music. When has that ever happened in America? Plenty of music has rankled the powers that be, from "Blowin' in the Wind" to "Alright," but I can't imagine the music itself causing a violent reaction (maybe I'm being myopic—please, someone correct my ignorant ass in the comments). And that's caused musicians to get soft.

In other words, there are no musicians today that are taking any real risks. I'm sure there's a hardcore band somewhere who right now is screaming about Joe Biden being a warmonger, and like twelve people are gonna hear it. No risk in that. And I know for certain that no A-list musician is gonna be talking shit for the time being, since they are mostly too busy basking in the return of the status quo. No motivation to take a risk. Soft.

And maybe I should make this clear, since I've dropped a lot of disparate points in this blog post, not many of them well-meaning: no one wants anyone murdered over a song. I'm not advocating for violence in a country that thankfully sees in general less than an abundance of it. I guess I'm mainly, in a fucked up backwards way, showing my admiration for Fela Kuti, who had to have known that "Zombie" was going to fuck him in numerous ways, and released it anyway, because it was the right thing to do. It took fucking courage, is what I'm saying, and that courage shines so brightly in this song. And I can't imagine any American music being released these days that could possibly show this much courage, simply because the stakes aren't there.

Tuesday, January 26, 2021

Pretty Much Every Word I'll Ever Write About Sports Betting


I'm not much of a gambler, and here's why: the thrill of the idea that I could win money is completely overshadowed by the knowledge that I will lose money. I don't like pissing away money. Pissing away money for something as pointless as a card game or whatever makes me feel fucking awful, like I want to throw up. And these games are designed to take your money. If that weren't a true fact, then casinos wouldn't exist.

I guess sports betting is a little different? But even then, I don't like the idea of losing money, and being from Philadelphia, I have been raised to believe that every team I ever want to win will in fact lose. It hurts enough when the Phillies lose, so I'd rather not double down my misery by losing money over it too.

The only time I would ever bet BIG is if, ya know, I fucking knew I was going to win. Unless I'm planning on participating in some Black Sox-esque scheme in which I have insider knowledge on a team taking a dive or some devious shit like that, such a situation is not going to happen too often. We love sports because anything can happen at any time.

And plus, sports betting is designed so that the more likely it is that the favorite will win, the more paltry your winnings will be. I'm typing this before the AFC Championship game, so let's look to that Bills vs. Chiefs match-up for examples on how the betting odds set typically. Okay, so the Chiefs are the favorite, and the Bills are the underdog. It's not a complete mismatch—it's the championship game after all—but the Chiefs, as the defending champions, do have a slight upper hand, and the betting odds reflect that. The money line is:

Bills: +150
Chiefs: -175

To put simply, if you put $100 on the Bills and they win, you net a profit of $150 (so $250 total). That's what a plus sign means. The minus sign works in the opposite direction—if you put down $175 on the Chiefs and they win, you net a profit of $100 (so $275 total). You win more money by betting on the Bills because there is less of a chance of the Bills winning. Pretty simple. (Also simplified in this blog post by the fact that we are ignoring "points against the spread," which is a different thing—look, if you're really interested in learning about sports betting, there are better places to go than Puke on Your Birthday.)

Now, those odds are not simply determined by the strengths/weaknesses of each team. They are also affected by previous bets made on the game. The odds change over time because of this. Say that the Chiefs were -175 at the beginning of the week, but for five days, betters placed nothing but bets on the Bills, because, I dunno, people love the Bills maybe? So anyway, the more bets placed on the underdog Bills, the more level the odds might become. Maybe the Chiefs drop to -150 or -125. Bookies adjust the odds to maximize their own profits. If everyone is betting on the Bills, and the Bills win, then the bookie is out of luck. So they make betting on the Chiefs more alluring. I'm sure there is a whole mathematical science behind calculating the odds, but again, you're reading Puke on Your Birthday. C'mon. (I should also say at this point that I don't know if I'm using terms like "odds" and "bookie" and so on correctly here, but you get what you pay for here on this blog.)

But my point in bringing this up is that there could theoretically be a lopsided match-up whose odds swing from out of control to practically evenly matched simply because of the bets already made on the match. Here's a made-up example of a money line for a hypothetical random Week 13 football match between a great team and a terrible team:

Team A: -8000
Team B: +2000

Okay, what we know is that betting $8000 on Team A nets you a pathetic $100, and betting $100 on Team B would win you a wild $2000. These are odds for a match-up that is so unbalanced that it might as well not even happen. But so think about the position a bookie is in. How do you get people to still put money on the game? You know that there are a ton of people who are absolutely willing to put like $10 on even an incredible longshot, if the payoff is gonna be 20x the amount put down. Say ten suckers bet $20 on Team B. That's $400 directly into the bookies pocket, because TEAM B IS NOT GOING TO WIN.

And what of the people betting on Team A? Don't they get their money? Well, yes, theoretically. However, the odds are set so that you have to be in a very unique position to want to put down money in the first place. Imagine putting $8000 of your own money down just to win $100 from the deal. The bookie is imagining that no one is going to be betting on Team A with that money line. If the bets were a little less extreme, then who knows, maybe people are gonna start putting large amounts of money down for smaller but nevertheless ASSURED wins.

One final piece to this before we bring the theoretical into the real world (and explain to you why I'm even typing all of this). Now say that, instead of ten suckers, there are a thousand suckers who dropped $100 each on Team B. That's a lot of money in the bookie's pocket now, and maybe he's getting a little nervous, like, what if Team B does the impossible and actually wins this?! Then he's fucked. So at this point, the odds are starting to get adjusted. Maybe for a little bit, Team A is gonna be set at -500, and a bunch of people take him up on those odds now that they are a little closer to earth. Sure, that's more money being paid out when Team A does eventually win, but he already got so much money from the people who bet on the losing Team B that it's not too much of a hit. And, if the miraculous happens, and Team B wins, then at least he took some money from people betting on the choke artist Team A while he could to even it out.

It's this betting on the favorites, the Team As of the world, that intrigues me these days. Imagine know without a shadow of a doubt that a particular team or athlete is going to win—it happens!—and placing a large amount of money on that sure-fire win to earn what, yes, amounts to pocket change, but still is something that you didn't have prior to the match. Even with those -8000 odds, imagine having $8 million and placing it on Team A. You'd still win $100,000! That's meager compared to the money you clearly already have in your bank account, but you're still printing money.

However, this is forgetting about the fact that the odds change over time, approaching zero based on the other bets being made. Depending on the context of the match-up, there are always going to be a certain amount of idiots placing money on a sure loss—think about how many people buy Powerball tickets every week, with odds that are skewed past the point of infinity—and so those idiots are going to be affecting the money line. So the person with $8 million in his pocket might be wise to wait a few days or weeks or whatever, wait till the money line becomes more reasonable, and then place the sure-fire bet. Maximize your profits and all that.

Yeesh, sorry. I've never been skillful at getting right to the point while blogging. Finally, we arrive—my point is that there is currently a sure-fire bet out there, and it might be time to put my money where my blog mouth is, and place a large amount of money on it to win a small amount of money, since the real-world odds of an upset are so incredibly unlikely that I'd be comfortable placing my money on it. Yes, I am talking about this stupid fucking boxing match involving a YouTube star and Floyd Mayweather.

I don't even know why I know about this, it's not like I follow boxing or anything like that. I probably read about it on AVClub since Logan Paul is the jabroni offering himself up to Mayweather in an exhibition match, and Paul's influence, unfortunately, reaches past the sports world and into the pop culture entertainment world. But anyway, Paul has lost the only boxing match he's ever been in, and Mayweather is 50-0 all time, so even a stupid boxing-ignorant motherfucker like myself can tell you that Mayweather will win. The chances of Paul winning are so close to zero that they basically don't exist.

But there are people willing to bet on such a match, and so, bookies have to set the odds. I looked it up a month or so ago to check what the odds were, and it was something like -5000 for Mayweather, and +775 for Paul, something like that. Just ridiculous odds. Odds not worth betting on—I might be able to scrounge up $5000, but it's not worth it to win $100 for my efforts.

Let's think back to the last sure-fire bet in the boxing world. Puke on Your Birthday actually wrote about it, surprisingly—it was in the context of Joe's New Summer—and I'm talking about Mayweather vs. Conor McGregor. Looking at archival odds, it appears that the money line opened at -2500 for Mayweather, which is still ridiculous, though closer than -5000. But here's the thing—a lot of fucking morons bet on McGregor, to the point that odds on Mayweather were down to like -375 right before the match. Which is fucking absurd in its own right—absurd because there was a 100% CHANCE THAT MAYWEATHER WOULD WIN. Why not bet on him at that point? $2500 bets for $100 might not be worth it, but $375 bets for $100? Absolutely.

In my opinion, anyway, and that's what I've been mulling over for the past month or so, about how and when to put money on Mayweather for his upcoming bout against one of the most noxious YouTube bros on the internet. It doesn't matter that I'm not making huge sums of money, because no matter how much I put down, I'm winning some money. I'm not saying that Floyd Mayweather is going to win because "I know in my gut" or whatever fucking logic a typical degenerate sports gambler uses to justify bets in their own minds, I'm saying it because there is literally no chance that Floyd Mayweather is going to lose. There is no universe in which he loses. Just fucking none. You might not be able to find another high-profile sports event in the history of modern civilization as fail-safe as this one to bet on.

I mean, the only question is when, right? Because like I said, it's not like I have tens of thousands of dollars lying around. I could scrape together a few thousand, maybe five (depending on whether we decide to take the plunge on a minivan in the meantime), so I want to maximize how much I'm getting back. Almost as sure as I am about Mayweather's victory, I'm sure of the fact that there are thousands of young white bozo males who worship Logan Paul and will put money on him, dropping that money line to a respectable level. If the line started at -5000, I'm hoping that at some point it can drop to -500 or so, and I can rake in about $1000 in winnings—and again, these winnings are assured.

So of course I type all this bullshit up and perform a Google search to check the latest odds, see if they changed since I last checked a month ago, and... the match has been postponed. Jesus christ. I mean, I couldn't care less about Logan goddamn Paul and Floyd domestic abuser Mayweather, but I just want my money.

Why was it postponed? Speculation is that there was a lack of interest in the event. Which... makes sense. I mean, if we allow ourselves to see the forest around the tree for a moment here: Why would anyone actually want to pay to see this sporting event on PPV? Like I said at the very top, we watch sports because there's an understanding that, no matter the odds, pretty much anything can happen. And if the whole idea of this match existing and there being no chance of one of the participants winning, then that kind of defeats the purpose of the match in the first place. 

I suppose this whole exercise was me putting faith in the sheer stupidity of boxing fans and Logan Paul fans. I was assuming that people that watch boxing and people that care about Logan Paul(?!) were going to ignore the fact that this match-up is unwinnable for one side, and I was planning on taking advantage of their willful ignorance. I have underestimated them, it seems.

So it looks like I won't be able to make any easy money on February 20th. The event has so far not been rescheduled, and honestly, it probably won't happen at all. But if it does, and if Mayweather's line dips below like -750 before the match-up, then I will be there with a few grand, hoping to cash in on the biggest mismatch in sports history.

And if and when it finally does happen, I'm sure that by writing all this and making all these assurances and jinxing the fuck out of it, I have guaranteed the fact Mayweather is being pressed by the mob and will take a dive in the sixth round and I'll lose my life savings over a goddamn boxing match, but WE'LL SEE!!!

Monday, January 25, 2021

Never Seen It, #29 of 300: Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid

I made a list of 200 movies I've never seen before, and probably should've, and so now I'm working my way through that list, alphabetically, and seeing what comes of it.


Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
1969

At one point or another, I asked my Facebook friends if anyone was interested in discussing any of the movies on the Never Seen It list with me, when the time comes. Frank took me up on the offer with a few movies, and we've finally arrived at the first one that he requested. Here's a conversation we had via email over the course of a week or so.


Joe: It's been a while since I've left Facebook and lost the original thread where people asked me to talk about particular movies whenever I got around to watching them. I had written down that you wanted to talk about Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, but I didn't write down if there was a particular reason why you wanted to talk about it. So while I was watching, I held that question in that back of my mind. Is there anything particular you want to talk about when it comes to this film?

If I had to guess, I'd say that it has something to do with the genre of westerns, and how Butch Cassidy doesn't seem to be exactly what one would expect when they are coming to watch a "classic western" movie. Or maybe that's just me, but I dunno, I kind of assumed that this was gonna be a John Wayne-type stoic drama. But it wasn't that at all. Following in the similar wake of Bonnie and Clyde from two years earlier, it felt fresher and brighter and funnier than any western had any right to be. So maybe the fact that Butch Cassidy seems to have stretched what this genre could do was a reason that you like it, because I know it was for me.

Like I said, that could just be me, though. I don't know anything about "Westerns" in general, and I don't know if I'm relieved or annoyed that the first two movies I've watched from this list that fit the genre (not counting Blazing Saddles) don't seem to be "classic" westerns so much as commenting on and improving upon that old classic western formula. Then again, what the fuck would I know about a formula if I still haven't seen a "classic western"?

I dunno, you tell me. Am I off base here? And does this have anything to do with your appreciation of this film? Am I missing anything? Should I have waited to think about any of this until I get to Dirty Harry? (Is that even a western? I don't know anything!)

I'm also pretty happy to just talk about the great moments in this film, as there are many.


Frank: I think you hit the nail on the head. The first time I saw this movie, it was unlike anything I'd seen before. I think you get it in your head that "classic" movies are going to have a certain rhythm to them, and then when this didn't, when it zagged, I was delighted. It is really playful with your expectations too (the tension of the shootout in the beginning, the fear that he is going to rape her that turns into relief that they are in love). I also think it's just a chance for two Hollywood stars to flex, which sometimes can be obnoxious, but sometimes it can really work (I don't know how you feel about the Oceans movies but this is definitely what they are going for with Clooney/Pitt, also I know for a fact that this is what Tarantino was going for with Pitt/DiCaprio in OuaT in Hollywood, how successful he is is debatable) The movie is really about how compelling Paul Newman is, and taking a bet that Redford is going to be a superstar, which pays off.

I just think the movie makes a lot of cool choices, with the colorization, the music, the picture montage that gets them to Bolivia. It's taking that new exciting energy and injecting it into a Western. A thing to think about is that this movie is dialogue driven (same as Bonnie and Clyde) Newman is always talking, and the western is usually very not dialogue driven. That's how John Wayne becomes a movie star.

Katherine Ross—it's crazy to me that she wasn't a bigger star, she is so beautiful and fun. She's third billed in The Graduate as well.

Dirty Harry is an interesting one because I don't think its politics of "cop with a gun makes his own rules to clean up the streets" is aging well as a genre. It was called "fascist fantasy" at the time (I think Pauline Kael? don't quote me on that) and seems even more so now.

If you haven't seen The Sting yet, and if it's not on your list put it on. It's the same director and Newman and Redford together again and it has the same fun energy

I just viscerally remember finishing this movie going 'I've never really seen anything like that before" which is always cool. Maybe that's what I wanted to talk about. Movies that blaze their own trail.


Joe: Thanks for confirming that this was "different" in many ways than a typical Western. I hate the fact that I'm working backwards, but eventually I will watch some "classic westerns" and see firsthand. I wonder, though, if the fact that this means that classic Westerns lack the "new exciting energy" that made us both enjoy Butch Cassidy and the Sunday Kid so much. Maybe I'll be disappointed.

I thought it was really funny reading about some studio exec originally rejecting the script specifically because the heroes flee to Bolivia (quote: "I don't give a shit, all I know is John Wayne don't run away.") To me, that whole back half of the movie was delightful, especially the whole bit where they are trying to learn Spanish. Totally worth fleeing to! There were just so many good bits like that ("Woodcock, is that you?!" and the subsequent train car explosion), that I can't imagine watching a western that doesn't have levity in it at this point.

I meant to ask last time—do you think one's appreciation of the movie is enhanced if he or she is already familiar with the real-life story of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid? I thought it was interesting that the movie almost started in media res, and chronicled the fall of these legends, while not really touching at all on their rise. I mean, I know there's a supposedly mediocre prequel that tells that tale, but I personally don't really feel the need to watch it or know about it. Maybe that was because this movie did well enough putting us right in the middle of the action. Maybe it's because the superhero genre has really beaten the horse of "origin stories" to death this century (and what are Butch and Sundance if not superheroes?).

P.S. I've seen The Sting, and I thought about it when I discovered the dumbest piece of trivia on IMDB's trivia page: "Paul Newman and Robert Redford drank a lot of beer in Mexico." A stupid and irrelevant piece of "trivia," but definitely makes sense that these two would want to pair up again in another movie. (P.P.S. gun to my head, I think I'd still choose The Sting over Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, but it's a lot closer than I would've assumed it'd be before watching the latter.)


Frank: I think I give The Sting a slight edge too. It's just too fun and tight.

I don't think it's enhanced by knowing anything about the real Butch and Sundance. The details I'm sure are there (the Hole-in-the-Wall Gang, etc.), but I think this is such a loose translation that it might hurt it if you are a history snob and want them to be more accurate.

I absolutely prefer starting in the middle. I'm exhausted by origin stories.

An interesting thing about the best Westerns is that John Wayne made like 100 cowboy movies and most of them aren't talked about because they are paint-by-number shitty movies. The classics tend to rise above because they are deconstructing the genre or stars own legend in some way (i.e. Clint Eastwood reflecting on his violent persona in Unforgiven, John Wayne and John Ford reflecting on their part in racism towards Native Americans with The Searchers). So even with the classics, it's a hard genre to wrap around. I do think that one of the undertalked about definitions of a Western is the tying of the American Dream in wealth and get rich quick schemes (little towns and farms risen up by people who left East with the promise of their own fortunes and destinies, fighting against the evils of corporate ranchers, bandits, and unfortunately indigenous peoples already there) In a lot of ways this pursuit of wealth as happiness by going west and fighting those trying to take what's yours makes There Will Be Blood the quintessential modern western. I dunno, I don't have a point, I just thought of that as I was typing. It's funny because I think BC&SK understands this and has it in its bones better than Blazing Saddles, for instance, which is a photocopy of westerns without really getting what makes them work/not work masked by Looney Tunes gags.

I GUESS my point is that a lot of quote unquote classics only get that way by specifically commentating, responding, or building on things that came before; that could be obvious I dunno.


Joe: If it's obvious, then it still needed to be said to me, because it's a point that I miss most of the time. Like the idea/worry of "Well is this just a response to what came before it instead of it's own idea?" is taking up so much space in my head right now that I forget that EVERYTHING is just a response to what came before it. Nothing is completely new. Every piece of art is either created to improve upon a known formula, or to go in the opposite direction and do something different than the known formula. So if BC&SK really did succeed because it took what came before and improved it significantly, then I should be celebrating, not equivocating. (In other words, I try to look at the big picture after watching a film, but sometimes I zoom out a little too far.)

I am glad you brought up the idea of the American Dream being tied to wealth in the context of Westerns, because I thought that was a pretty interesting little note in the middle of this movie that I hoped they would expand upon a little more. When the duo finds out that E.H. Harriman is pouring money into their capture, Butch goes: "If he'd just pay me what he's spending to make me stop robbing him, I'd stop robbing him!" Which is 1) a very funny line, but 2) a pretty poignant line too. And I thought it spoke to how the game is not played on level playing grounds. Butch and Sundance and the gang are doing this for the MONEY, first and foremost, but some rich asshole like Harriman couldn't care less about money, because he has so much already. The game isn't even, and so Butch and Sundance (and every other low- or middle-class shmuck in early 20th Century Western U.S.) are doomed to lose. CAPITALISM, BABY.

So I guess first, am I barking up the wrong tree or is this something that others have thought about as well? And second, does this have anything to do with the reason we consider these criminals to be HEROES, no question, or does that have more to do with their style and humor and larger-than-life fictional personas in general?


Frank: I think you are absolutely barking up the right tree, and I don't know if this has been brought up before. The Robin Hood aspect is pretty well defined, but the idea of the rigged game is fascinating to me. Doomed to lose is what keeps us invested in their story, something relatable there.

I do think we'd have a harder time seeing them as heroes if the movie betrayed our trust in some way and had them kill someone innocent or something. Not that we wouldn't follow their story still (the gangster genre à la Scarface or Godfather with antiheroic protagonists, or the noir detective with unlikable brutality), I just think it would sour the charm. They're criminals, but the victims are okay or minimally harmed or "bad guys." That's a major trope of the heist movie right? "These guys are insured for their paintings it's a victimless crime!" to keep the rogues likable.

I think the movie may also be commenting on the dying out of this lifestyle right? Not being bank robbers specifically, but the romance of the West is having control over your own life, and that is a dream that they chase to Bolivia. Bolivia becomes the new West. Like this used to be a way to even the score, but now the bicycle is coming along and there are new fashions to be had in the montage to Bolivia, and the spirit of free commerce is being squashed by a military industrial complex as the world heads toward corporate capitalism. And they go out in a blaze of glory


Joe: Oh yeah, definitely reminds me of Deadwood or something, when you put it that way. It could be the West, it could be anything—we crave autonomy, and the powers that be are usually there to crush it.

I promised myself I wouldn't play moral arbiter for film characters anymore, but I can't help it after you mentioned the "likeable rogues." It's definitely true in this case, but the idea still interests me enough that I wanna keep talking about it. Like, okay, at what point does it cross the line between likeable criminals and unforgivable criminals? I guess intention matters—Butch and Sundance were in it for the money, and spent it on booze and prostitutes for the most part, which isn't great. But how it's carried out matters too—it's not like they are robbing poor people, they're robbing rich people, which makes it okay (in my eyes, anyway).

I was thinking about this while also thinking about the false equivalency that people have been making the past week or so between this summer's BLM protests and this month's domestic terrorism attack on the Capitol building. Similarities: large groups of people marching and acting out for a cause they truly believe in. But the intentions are completely different (protesting the fact that police murder black men at a much higher rate than white men, versus protesting an election based on complete fabrications and lies), as are the ways they were carried out (93% of BLM marches were completely peaceful, whereas the trumpers committed felonies and ransacked federal property and allegedly threatened elected officials' lives and MURDERED A COP).

And then you think about Butch Cassidy, who admits toward the end of his run that he's never actually shot anybody. Intention—not take lives unnecessarily—and ways of carrying it out—talk a big talk, so much so that you rarely have to take action—allow us to like this man, even though, yeah, he's technically committing a lot of crimes and fucking a lot of people over.

I feel like I'm just talking out of my ass now, because I'm a lightweight and just had two vodka/seltzers. So let me ask you this instead: What are we to make of the bike-riding scene? Fun little break from the action? A bit too out-of-place in a western flick? Completely ruined by the fact that "Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head" kinda sucks butt? Even though it went to #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 based on this scene? And even though BJ Thomas clearly doesn't agree with that negative assessment?


Frank: I like the bicycle scene for a particular reason, I think we think of the old west as being this far-off civil war time, and don't think about how close in time it is to us. Bikes just feel like a modern thing, to me, at least. BJ Thomas is wrong, that song stinks, and ironically, weirdly dates the movie. The bike can stay, the song has to go.

I think the secret sauce is also that they are handsome likable men. If they were ugly and gruff, even with good intentions, we wouldn't like them as much. we are simple people swayed by good PR.

The BLM/Capital protests false equivalency lies not in the actions of the protestors (which is its own conversation, clear in the points you already made) but in the response. The overmilitarization for the one versus the letting people through for the other.

Populist heroes of the past have a long history of being outlaws, "sticking it to the man." As populism has been taken hostage by the conservative media market, it's interesting to think how most people today would be rooting for E.H. Harriman against those thugs trying to take "our" freedoms to become an E.H. Harriman. The great con trick of our lifetimes was the middle class blue collar person believing that the big guy had their best intentions at heart, that somehow a djt, despite all evidence to the contrary his entire life, was deeply invested in the working man's future.


Joe: Without judgment hurled toward any party, I just find it so interesting that he can talk about two cons, basically—trump's conning of the American people, and Butch/Sundance's conning of financial institutions(?)—and consider one as historically heinous and one as somewhat lovable. I mean, an eighth grader could explain the discrepancy—magnitude of the crime, and who it affects (punching up instead of punching down)—but I still find it interesting to mull over. Especially as I type this a few hours from the ceremony in which a very unpopular ruling power is replaced by a more popular ruling power, one who will hopefully not commit the same type of atrocities as his predecessor, but still most likely will not directly address what ills our society as a whole, and will use terminology such as "healing" and "unity" while still leaving the vast majority of today's impoverished class to either rot or to act out in Butch/Sundance-type ways.

UGH I meant to wrap this up with this email but I couldn't help myself it seems. Please tell me to can it with the intro-level politics and then tell me about a "film-student-type aspect" of this film that you enjoyed that we haven't talked about. I dunno, like something that a neophyte like myself wouldn't notice but you did, something that made you say "this is a well-made film." And then I'll let you go until we talk about Casablanca.
 
[Editor's note: I'm okay with ending it here, but if any additional responses come of this, I'll drop 'em here in an edit.]
 
~~~~~~~~
 
GRADE: 3.5 puke out of 5
 
NEXT TIME: Speaking of Nazis, let's watch Cabaret.

Sunday, January 24, 2021

Album of the Week: Emphatically No.

A couple of Pitchfork contributors just published a piece about their "virtual listening club" that they had established at the beginning of the pandemic. It's structured a little differently than Record Club—they get together on Zoom to talk about albums instead of writing about them—but it still reminded me of you guys all the same. Like the article says: it'll change your life. I guess. At least be thankful that I'm not out there forcing you guys to talk to me on Zoom every week, alright?

So here is the Album of the Week, for which you can write about instead of talking about it on yet another Zoom obligation during which you get way drunker than you thought you would. (Archives and playlist are there too, as always.)

WEEK 104 — January 24-30, 2021

What we're listening to this week (Pam's pick):


ALBUM:
Emphatically No.
ARTIST: Cheekface

RELEASED: January 11, 2021 (real proud of my Pammy for picking the first Album of the Week to actually have been released in 2021)

WHAT GENRE IS THIS: Probably indie rock (is "Bandcamp Rock" a thing?)

WHY PAM PICKED IT: "I get emails from Bandcamp about new albums they think I might be interested in (I was automatically signed up for the emails when I bought Joe a Bully T-shirt from Bandcamp for Christmas), and Cheekface looked interesting enough."

TRACKLIST:
  1. "Listen to Your Heart." "No."
  2. Best Life
  3. Call Your Mom
  4. Crying Back
  5. Wedding Guests
  6. (I Don't Want to Go to) Calabasas
  7. Original Composition
  8. No Connection
  9. Emotional Rent Control
  10. Big Big Friend
  11. Loyal like Me
  12. Do You Work Here?
  13. Don't Get Hit by a Car 
LENGTH: 34:37

WHERE TO LISTEN FOR FREE: Bandcamp

READING SOME SHIT: Oh man, this band seems so Pam, and she doesn't even know it.

Happy listening, fam! Have a great week!

Saturday, January 23, 2021

A Year of Blind Spots: The Stooges

I'm exploring a different classic album every week, in a random order, and every Saturday giving each of those albums a couple hundred words at most.
 

I think one of the overlooked genius aspects of the Stooges' Fun House is its track sequencing. The Stooges range from tough-but-catchy proto-punk to batshit noise experiments, but Fun House gradually goes from one end of the spectrum to the other, so gradually that the listener barely even bats an eye when he finds himself in the middle of album closer "L.A. Blues" and it's just a tornado of static and saxophone and growling and general cacophony. The Stooges earn that sound in increments.

But we're not talking about the Stooges' sophomore triumph, we're talking about their self-titled debut, an album that does not fare as well as far as sequencing goes. But this is the risk you take when you immerse yourself in an artist's work non-chronologically—you come to appreciate the ways in which an artist perfected their craft before being witness to the understandably imperfect craft that preceded it.

I'm talking specifically about the extremely imperfect placement of the ten-minute drag of a song in the #3 slot—"We Will Fall" is a formless chant or ohm or something that just stretches fucking forever. I'm not even saying I hate the song, or that it couldn't serve a purpose on The Stooges (in other words, it's not like yesterday's "Skit" debacle), I'm just saying that it could've served this album better if it wasn't quite so long or if it wasn't hanging like a fucking albatross right there in the middle of the album.

If you wanna just go ahead and ignore any grievances you might have about a song that takes up 1/3rd of the album's runtime, then you're gonna find a lot to like otherwise. Lots of gritty garage/punk music to soundtrack one's smashing one's head through a plate of glass. The outlier's just tough to ignore, though, that's all.


Friday, January 22, 2021

BE, Rachel S.


I gotta thank BTS for delivering from my boy band-induced depression as of late. ICYMI Backstreet Boys' Brian Littrell went off the deep end and joined Parler. His cousin and bandmate Kevin called him out on the socials. AJ shared his support for Biden/Harris. Nick was too busy announcing his new kid on the way. And Howie remains the neutral one. It's why moms always liked him. I am now Team Kevin, if you were wondering!!!!

IN ANY CASE. I have been a staunch BSB fan since my loins turned prepubescent. I stood in the freezing cold in the seventh grade outside TRL studios just to grab a glimpse of the boys from below in Times Square as they were promoting the release of their album Black & Blue. Shout out to my late father for driving me there 2.5 hours on a weekday and writing me a note out of school. What a guy.

The Backstreet Boys also happen to be the reason I know my best friend. In Ms. Johnson's ninth grade science class, we had to stand in front of the room and say a fact about ourselves. My now best friend shared sheepishly, "AJ is my favorite Backstreet Boy." And without hesitation I yelled, "BRIAN IS MINE!" Everyone stared, she sat down next to me and we've been attached at the hip ever since. Needless to say, seeing Brian turn into a full-throttle trump cultist broke my heart. AND THE BACKSTREET BOYS PROMISED THEY'D NEVER BREAK MY HEART.

The fact that 'N Sync fans can now throw this in my face is...I don't want to talk about it. JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE IS AN ANTI-VAXXER FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH.

It's been rough, y'all.

So here comes BTS. Every single track hits all the right notes of a quintessential boy band album. You've got the "oh no it's too sexy for teens to really understand" slow jams; the straight banger dance songs; the ballads that start with the deep bass singer slow-talk-singing his way right to your heart/privates; the Swedish-produced-sounding glittery tracks that highlight only one or two vocals. You could pull the backing tracks from each of these songs and play behind NKotB, BSB, 'N Sync, 98 Degrees, Westlife, O-Town, etc., and they'd all fit right in. And yet, it's uniquely BTS. I know this music, I understand its origins, but it feels new again. I absolutely get why they are the megastars they are. Who amongst them will become the Harry Styles breakout? ONLY TIME WILL TELL. (Harry Styles solo work is excellent, BTW. It's okay to enjoy pop music!!!)

Thanks for the ride, BTS, it's been a dark few weeks.

BE, Sunny


I clearly have weeaboo or otaku or adjacent tendencies. My favorite movies, my love of anime, eastern vidya, my feeling that Taoism/Zen has the most relevant and approachable elements of the so-called philosophical "Good Life" 2500 years later, whatever. So there is a certain base glee in having a K-pop album for RC this week.

K-pop in itself is fascinating. Of course, no one came out of the '97 financial crisis unscathed, but Korea cauterized the bleed. But where to find growth to repay all the debt? A new natural resource was needed. Without actual resources, the government read the tea leaves (heh) and ploughed money and praise into Mass Entertainment. But there was a gambit here—would Asian music ever really be able to break into the most the most xenophobic country around? Well, 20 years is a long time and $20B is a lot of money. Untethered to American music history, they have been able to distill pop into a concentrated form. BTS, having SUGA lead a rap element, is sort of the next form of it all (Super Saiyan, if I may). Now it's the prime Korean export. And Samsung, I guess.

Well how about BE itself? I mean, I'm having a good time. At about 25 minutes (leaving out the "Skit", which I guess they do each album, where they're talking about getting Billboard #1 and what happiness means? Sure.), it's an easy listen. Many of the songs, in the fashion of distilled pop, remind me of constructions of other pop songs I can't quite pin down. Presque vu for the American ear.

The slower tracks, harder to jam along to and without really knowing what's going on, are the low points. "Blue & Grey," doing the soft ballad depression thing, is a key example. It's the upbeat tracks where concentrated mirth takes off. "Life Goes On" kicks you right into the album. "Dis-ease" has the trademark engl(r)ish showtime J-pop one-liners ('One for the laugh / two for the show'). And closing with "Dynamite"—EVA theme mixed with disco revival (real popular in 2020) mixed with all English lyrics—baby, you got a Billboard #1 going.

Always happy to hear more foreign music. I approach this album quite differently than Go Go Diva, for reasons I'm not even sure myself, but enjoy both nonetheless. I don't see K-pop disappearing anytime soon from the American stage, and I'm here for the ride.

p.s. of course, I would be remiss to not acknowledge that, like everything K-pop concentrates, it too concentrates the evils and vices of Hollywood and American mass media. The abuses of young performers (particularly women) are endemic and horrifying. The culture is one to work yourself to death, or at least make sure your kids do, so you can pay for all but required plastic surgery. It sucks. But I guess like China suicide net iPhone factories and Bangladeshi sneaker sweatshops, countries must follow the occident's lead in some way and entrap their peoples to maintain relevance in the global political economy.

BE, Nate


The rubbernecking instinct here is to try and understand why the young people of the nation flocked to K-Pop as a generation's de-facto cardboard-sign-making, homemade-T-shirt-wearing, dragging-dad-to-the-concert music sensation, but you spend five minutes with BE and the answer becomes obvious. If you want to dissect BTS, you can (shiny pop music with an obvious hip-hop influence and embrace of the Big Shiny athletics paved by mid 2010s EDM pop), but I tend to take a Frank Sobotka perspective: We used to make this in America and we don't anymore. This isn't an album, it's economics. This isn't music, it's thermodynamics. The kids are alright.

BE, Joe


I have not seen the latest installment of Disney's COVID-quarantine-inspired sing-along TV special, but reports from Willow and Martha (and Pam) have indicated that BTS takes part in that special, singing the Disney classic "[no idea, not looking it up]," and coming off as quite affable. I have no reason to dispute this report. BTS come from a long lineage of boy bands whose members' personalities are either genuinely jubilant/charitable or carefully marketed as such, and I obviously have no problem with this either. If the "bad boy" image is exhausting, then the "good boys" image is refreshing. Out with Bieber, in with BTS.

And if you feel like I've wasted my opening graf with generalities that shouldn't have to be explained, then I probably agree, but that's only because I'm just killing time before I have to talk about the specific songs, for which there isn't much substance. Pretty fluffy boilerplate 2020s pop music that was clearly put together hastily during a concert-halting (i.e. money-making-machine-halting) pandemic. Lots of the lyrics—if you are the type to comb through any of the translations on genius.com—touch on already-cliché pandemic-inspired emotions, e.g. in "Fly to My Room" the anti-2020 meme-isms of "Somebody turn back the clock / The entire year got stolen," shit you've seen on your TL since April.

Not that I'm necessarily immune to BTS' charms. I like pop music as much as the next jabroni. I've indulged in my fair share of "2020 was the worst!"isms in the past ten months. I don't have much to complain about when it comes to BE. Yeah, it doesn't move pop music forward in any innovative or refreshing way, but does it have to? Yeah, it's catchy in a clearly manufactured way, but isn't all pop? Yeah, it indulges in hackneyed pop conventions like adding clear hip hop flourishes in and around the songs, but, like, compared to the boy bands I grew up with at least, it's kind of new, I guess? In this specific context?

We're barreling toward one of those conclusions where I state something like "this album is fine for what it is but doesn't do much to move my needle" or whatever, so let's stop cold to talk about "Skit," killing the momentum in the same way BTS does on BE. "Skit" sucks. Any sub-30-minute album that indulges in a three-minute spoken-word field recording sucks, and doubly so if you need to do extra work to figure out what they are talking about, and triply so if you discover that what they are blabbering on about in the middle of the goddamn album is a spirited conversation about how successful they themselves are. I get that BTS would be excited about being the first all-Korean group to hit #1 on the Billboard Hot 100—they should be! But, I mean, I probably don't need to hear about it in a song? And it's not even like BTS are out here inventing new ways to lack humility. I know for a fact that the original boy band, the Beatles, did all kinds of shit like this, sending actual vinyl records to fan club members that featured spoken-word messages from the Beatles themselves. Indulgent and inessential, in my opinion (but not in the opinion of Andre Gardner on WMGK's "Breakfast with the Beatles" Sunday morning radio program that I listened to growing up). But still, the Beatles weren't leaving these messages in the middle of fucking Magical Mystery Tour. They were optional appendices to the canon. The only option BTS gives me is to get up out of my seat and press "skip" on the iPod.

Anyways, this album is fine for what it is but doesn't do much to move my needle. Maybe the exception is "Dynamite," the aforementioned #1 hit single. There is nothing revolutionary about this song, but it's been well over a year since I've gotten drunk at a wedding and danced, so hearing "Dynamite" and clearly picturing such a scenario might classify this as revolutionary in its own way. The song might paint BTS as the Korean Black Eyed Peas and it might feature possibly the worst key change I've ever heard on tape, but goddamn it, it gets me tapping my feet regardless. I can at least make sense of this song's popularity (unlike the other sad-girl Lorde/Billie/Bridgers spotify-core bullshit that is ruling the charts this current week). "Dynamite" accomplishes what all pop music should—gets in your head, makes you happier than you were before you heard it. Faint praise, but praise nonetheless.

Okay, but so that leaves one good-to-great song, one unforgivably trite non-song, and then like 20-odd minutes of mostly forgettable, bland pop music 101. I've listened to plenty of actively bad albums in Record Club, and this ain't one of them. But BTS avoids being bad by being mostly vacuous. If you want my completely unwarranted opinion, then I'll suppose that this is the exact reason why BTS are so goddamn popular. Put in a blender this very banal, shallow pop music, add on top of that the fact that the lyrics could mean anything to those of us who are uni-lingual, and then add too the fact that the artists are young, happy, nice, probably cute to many young music consumers, and then hit blend, and out pops out a product that you can apply to any listening need. Millions of people like BTS because of this. It's like loving bread because you can make so many different sandwiches.

And who could be so heartless as to actively dislike something that could be compared to bread? No one needs that kind of anger right now. Let's just enjoy BTS for what it is, and move on. I wish them well in their continued success both at home and abroad.

GRADE: 2.5 pukes out of 5