Top Five Tuesday: (Worst) Beatles Songs

I did not watch Get Back. This wasn't because I thought I wouldn't like it. In fact, I know that I would like it. Maybe even love it. I love the idea of watching eight hours of footage of musicians just fucking around and creating music. This would've been my shit.

My argument against it is one of time management, which is definitely my fault, not the Beatles' or Peter Jackson's. On a superficial level, I'll say that eight hours of anything is not worth my time these days. I can barely pay attention for an entire 22-minute episode of Seinfeld, let alone imagine being able to commit eight hours of my week to one single documentary series.

On a deeper level, I feel uncomfortable with devoting even eight additional hours to the Beatles, who are definitely the most important band in music history, but who are also already the band that I know the most about. I know enough about the Beatles that I feel comfortable saying that I am "very familiar" with the Beatles. I've spent enough time with Beatles biographies and WMGK's Breakfast with the Beatles that I can speak knowledgeably on the Beatles. Not expertly, by any means, but close enough that I'm cool staying in this space. There's enough music documentaries out there about artists that I don't know as well as I do the Beatles. I'm gonna stick with those other documentaries for now (or, ya know, just listening to the fucking music).

As you can see, any associated bitterness that comes with having not watched the zeigesty Get Back was entirely by choice. I could've watched Get Back and joined in the online and family discussions. I chose not to. (I'm also gonna quit Twitter, I think, but that's another blog post for another week.)

Writing a list of my least favorite Beatles songs, then, is just a way to release some pent-up (and, again, entirely self-created) frustrations. The purpose of this list isn't to create some grand argument that the Beatles are secretly a bad band. They aren't. They are fucking great. They are close to fucking perfect. But let's not go overboard here. Let's not pretend that what Paul McCartney did when creating "Get Back"—noodling around on guitar until an idea made its way to the surface—isn't something that every other fucking professional musician on earth does every single day. Let's not pretend that there weren't shitty songs here and there. Close to perfect, but not perfect.

A note about "Revolution 9": I've long professed this to be my least favorite song of all time, period, beyond it just being my least favorite Beatles song, but my opinion on it has softened in recent years. I would've kept the song off the list anyway, since "beating a dead horse" and all, but I'm keeping it off the list now for a different reason. I've actually come to admire the song a little bit. I still think it's a garbage song, that it's not even really a song at all really, that it's almost completely unlistenable, but I also now think that maybe that's an interesting thing, how the Beatles were so big, and John Lennon was so beyond reproach, that they/he could just add a fucking sound college to the end of a double album and have no one say shit about it. I get a sense of awe when I am in the presence of someone/something so fucking untouchable.

A note about "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da": I could probably make the same argument about this fucking dreck, as it is no doubt the second worst Beatles song, but also... yeah, kind of bizarrely courageous of Paul McCartney to drop something so sickly sweet and childish on an otherwise ostensibly grown-up endeavor. McCartney was 26 when he wrote this song; he might as well have been six. Lennon made a big deal about his primal scream therapy and how connecting with the horrors of his childhood trauma him to create darker art. McCartney didn't need primal scream—he was creating fresh childhood trauma in real time.

A note about "Hey Jude": I've already written about this song, and I've already committed to not hating on it, because it would be an absolutely horrible look for an uncle to hate on the song which also happens to be his nephew's namesake. You won't find it on this list. I'll hold it close to my chest as to whether you'd find it on this list without stipulations. I will say this: Jude, if you're reading this, and it's like 2035, and you're into the Beatles, hit up your Uncle Joe. Let's talk about it, man. I'm excited to hear what you have to say.

Top Five Worst Beatles Songs

5. "Honey Pie"

 

An insufferable take on late-19th century Victorian-style British music. I get that the point of the White Album was to encompass as many music styles as possible, but this is a bridge too far. At least its cousin "Wild Honey Pie" had the decency to get weird with it, and also come in and get out in 61 seconds.

 

4. "The Inner Light"

 

There are plenty of valid arguments that George Harrison's immense talent was unheralded because it had the unlucky fortune of existing in the shadow of Lennon and McCartney's comparable talents. But then you hear another Maharishi Mahesh Yogi dick sucking contest, and you start to think that Lennon and McCartney had a point.

 

3. "Maxwell's Silver Hammer"

 

On paper, I buy it: a murder mystery dressed up in classic cloying corny McCartney bullshittery. In practice, it falls apart, because, it's... well, it's cloying, corny, and McCartney-ish.

 

2. "The Word"

I realize this might be a stretch for some people. I'll hear arguments against this song's placement on the list. But something about the basic premise of this song—"the answer is love," basically—has made me cringe so hard that it's physically painful. I don't disagree with the theory, but the presentation does nothing to prove the theory correct. It in fact makes me want to puke. Maybe the answer is hate.

1. "Her Majesty"

 

Much to-do is made about the song cycle that ends Abbey Road, which was the last album the Beatles ever created together (but not released, long story—have you seen Get Back?). Rightly so, as the run from "Because" to "The End" is one of the greatest musical achievements in history. It's all there, really. Had the story of the Beatles ended with one last nonsense Beatles-esque sentiment ("The love you make...") and a fucking Ringo Starr drum solo, then it would've been the greatest sendoff ever laid down on tape. But they couldn't help themselves. They had to tack on the stupid, unnecessary "Her Majesty." It's an absolutely nothing of a track. In fact, it's less than nothing. It actively takes away from the power of Abbey Road's second side. It's one last wink at the audience, but comes off more like there's something stuck in their eye. I hate it. I hate all 23 seconds of it. I hate that it takes something perfect and then takes a hot piss on that otherwise perfect thing. Fuck "Her Majesty" forever.

Never Seen It, #68 of 200: Gangs of New York

*in an 1800s Brooklyn accent* I have a list of 200 movies that I'm going through and writing about, check it out HERE, check out the new one below.

Gangs of New York

2002

Martin Scorsese

"This will all be finished tomorrow."

"No it won't."

And so we come around again, back to the same old arguments, round and round, and some day it will also be dirt in an overrun graveyard, dust in the wind across a river.

I piss into that wind today, for today we examine another Martin Scorsese movie. The piss blows back and lands in my face, for today, I declare, once and for all, that I really like a Martin Scorsese movie. This one. Gangs of New York. This is the one.

This isn't a matter of killing the author. Don't worry, he's dead—the argument about whether Scorsese knows or cares what he is doing by showing these characters to the world still exists, in my warped, frustrated mind anyway—but the sights and sounds and—dare I say it—mise-en-scène was so extraordinary in Gangs of New York that the author basically went ahead and killed himself anyway. There's no need for such an argument when it's not grounded in the real world.

It wouldn't be disingenuous to say something pithy like "I'm just thankful this wasn't a mob movie." That's the truth, but also, maybe it's not? Early in the movie, when Johnny is explaining to Amsterdam how everything in Five Points runs through Bill the Butcher, Pam asked me what other movie or TV we've seen with a similar premise. My answer was: I dunno, The Sopranos? It's the idea of a "kingpin," and since Scorsese has done plenty of mob movies, he's no stranger to the concept. Gangs of New York, in story, isn't necessarily new. It's the window dressings that make it memorable.

One might even say that Scorsese himself is the kingpin in creating Gangs of New York. He takes aim at every single issue I've ever taken with films like this, and murder each and every one, and I'm waking up with a horse head under my sheets.

Like: Is Daniel Day Lewis a crock of shit for doing the whole "method actor" thing? I've argued that in the past, but Gangs of New York has shown me what a force he can be when he's just playing a charismatic villain, as opposed to a bundle of anxious nerves and neuroses like he does in the other films I've seen him in. I think it's stupid as shit that he felt like he needed to become an actual butcher's apprentice in order to prepare for the role of Bill the Butcher, but I cannot deny that he is masterful at delivering evil monologues while chopping meat.

Like: Is Leonardo DiCaprio the most overrated actor of all time? I've argued that in the past, but Gangs of New York has shown me how well the man can perform when he's just the fucking straight man. He's really effective as Amsterdam, who is more the audience surrogate than the protagonist. DiCaprio goes way too over the top when he's playing someone hopped up on cocaine or hopped up on heroin, but he plays it just right when he's hopped up on pure revenge.

Like: Is Cameron Diaz a good actor? I don't know if I've argued against that idea in the past, but I would've. Not anymore. She was fucking perfect here. Maybe I've only seen her in goofy comedy roles, I dunno. Gangs of New York grounded her and brought out the best in her.

Like: It's fucking stupid when the city of New York is a "character." This was the first time in my life that the idea was not eye-roll-worthy for me. I think that's because it barely even felt like New York to me. Pre-Civil War New York might as well be an entirely different universe. It fucking works, man.

Like: Scorsese's movies have way too much unnecessary fluff. The Irishman, for instance, got a lot of flack for being four hours long. Gangs of New York was two hours and 45 minutes, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I was watching a long Scorsese movie in which not a single second was unnecessary. The momentum kept me enthralled throughout the entire runtime. I'd even argue that it should've been longer! I want to spend more time in this world!

Like: Scorsese doesn't appropriately portray his villains as the villains that they are. It's the most dubious argument I make on this blog, but I stand by it. I shouldn't have to argue with anyone for two hours about the moral turpitude of a Jordan Belfast type. Villains can be fun to watch, but I feel like the filmmaker is doing something wrong if you walk away from the movie viewing them as the hero. There's so much gray area to this argument that I can't even believe I talked myself into writing about it again, but here we are. I'm writing about it now because Gangs of New York had a firm grasp on what it was trying to say, and I think it made a pretty poignant point about the whole thing (at least more poignant than I ever knew Scorsese capable). We see it in the final showdown between Amsterdam and Bill, when they line up, ready to draw blood, and then all of a sudden the Navy starts shooting cannonballs at both sides. There's that mutual understanding that everything is fucked, there are no right sides, we're all the bad guy, and that we're doomed to be forgotten because we couldn't get over our pettiness, etc., etc. The fact that Jordan Belfast (as the primary example in my experiences with Scorsese) never really understood this point bothered me. In Gangs of New York, the point is well made.

Honestly, if Bill Murray had played John C. Reilly's part, then Scorsese might have dealt enough blows to Puke on Your Birthday that we'd be shutting down right now.

But here we are, still standing. The world is rapidly changing around us, and we continue on, to watch other, shittier movies, destined to be forgotten.

GRADE: 4.5 pukes out of 5

NEXT TIME: Speaking of shittier movies, I think we all know what to expect when we watch Tony Danza's The Garbage Picking Field Goal Kicking Philadelphia Phenomenon.

Album of the Week: Fine Line

Alright gang, let's keep the party going. How's everyone's year so far? Regardless of whether your answer is "great," "bad," or "Omicron," we have another album for you. Check out the playlist and smash the shuffle button, check out the archives and peruse where we've been, and check out Record Club Rewards to see how we're doing so far in 2022. After you do all that, then scroll on, baby.

WEEK 154 — January 9-15, 2022

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

ALBUM: Fine Line

ARTIST: Harry Styles

RELEASED: December 13, 2019

WHAT GENRE IS THIS: Pop (strain), rock (substrain)

WHY MELISSA PICKED IT: "I wanted to choose an album I've been putting off listening to, and that all the cool kids are listening to these days. I swear, once a day, a student or younger colleague will mention Harry Styles. So I wanted to subject us all to our highest degree of 'cool' in 2022."

TRACKLIST:

1. Golden
2. Watermelon Sugar
3. Adore You
4. Lights Up
5. Cherry
6. Falling
7. To Be So Lonely
8. She
9. Sunflower, Vol. 6
10. Canyon Moon
11. Treat People with Kindness
12. Fine Line

LENGTH: 46:37

 

WHERE TO LISTEN FOR FREE: YouTube

READING SOME SHIT: Might as well finally read that Vogue feature that everyone's been talking about.

PREVIOUSLY ON RECORD CLUB: Sorry, I have the Grammys on my mind recently—Fine Line was nominated for the award for Best Pop Vocal Album in 2021, but it was beaten by RC album Future Nostalgia. (Let's hope that SOUR wins the award in a few weeks, and then steel ourselves for the inevitable win for Adele's 30 in 2023.) Here's another throwback—Kid Harpoon, who cowrote all twelve songs on this album, also cowrote the great "Light On" from Maggie Rogers' Heard It in a Past Life, Record Club's very first album. More recently, the band Lucius provided backup vovals for the title track to I Don't Live Here Anymore. They show up again here on "Treat People with Kindness." And if none of that wets your whistle sufficiently, then watch this video of Harry Styles inducting RC alumna Stevie Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame (though Fleetwood Mac was inducted previously, in 1998, by Sheryl Crowe, who is sadly not a Record Club alumna... yet!!!).

Happy listening, fam! Have a great week!

A Year of Blind Spots: Child Is Father to the Man

It is extremely fitting that the opening song on this album, titled "Overture," is just someone laughing over a groove. They are laughing at me. They are laughing because I thought that, after a whole year of trying to discover some hitherto blind spots in my musical knowledge, I'd be any closer to feeling secure in my quest to know music. I feel like there are a hundred thousand blind spots left to go. Cue laughter.

Welcome back to another Year of Blind Spots. As I did for 2021, I currently have a list of 50 albums that I used a number generator to randomly organize for 2022. Unlike last year, I took great care in only including artists that I knew of but didn't actually know. This means that you won't be finding many artists who discographies I partially know (by my count, that'll happen three times this year, but for very specific reasons). These are artists that I have definitely heard of before, but know almost nothing about, and they certainly have never been on my iPod before in any capacity.

Take the band Blood, Sweat & Tears. That's a band I've heard of before. Like, I'm familiar with the phrase. I had no idea what they sounded like or who was in it or anything like that. I think I assumed that they were a funk band, à la Earth, Wind & Fire? Probably just due to the similar names (both even forgo the oxford comma!). But BST sounds nothing like EWF, or funk in general. So that was a surprise (or: cue laughter).

I don't think I could describe their sound with any one description, but if there was a gun to my head, I'd say "late '60s flower power music" I guess? There's definitely some flowery, folky stuff akin to the Zombies. There's some stuff leaning farther into rock 'n' roll, some proto shit like Tommy James & the Shondells. Yeah, sure, I guess there's some funk in there—"My Days Are Numbered" feints like it's going to be, before swerving into a Forever Changes-type sound; "Somethin' Goin' On" gets closer to James Brown than I thought possible of such a band. My main point being that this is all stuff that you've heard on a dusty vinyl before, even if the songs themselves aren't much like each other.

The frontman for Blood, Sweat & Tears, at least for this one album, was a man named Al Kooper (no, not Alice Cooper, though we'll eventually get to him in this column I'm sure). I've known that name for a while—and this should tell you more about what specific blind spots I do and do not have than anything else—because I poured over the credits for Bob Dylan's Highway 61 Revisited in my youth, and knew that he played the Hammond organ on "Like a Rolling Stone." Pretty important part of a pretty important song, I'd say! And I had no idea that the dude had his own band! (If you're looking for that same organ sound here, you can find it on at least "Morning Glory.")

According to what I read, the big inspiration for Kooper in putting together the band was the idea of "brass rock," i.e. rock that had a horn section. There is some nice brass work all over the album, for sure, e.g. the outro on "Just One Smile," and so on. I think it's something I take for granted these days, honestly. I feel like bands that I listen to usually can't afford to have full time trumpet players, so they briefly hire session musicians for recording specific songs on an album. BST had eight full time members when they created Child Is Father to the Man. Shit was different back then! Pretty cool!

Also different—that the name "Blood, Sweat & Tears" could be such a collaborative entity that they could kick out their frontman (and the person who put the band together in the first place!) immediately after their debut, and still function for another 50+ years. A new guy (David Clayton-Thomas) came in to replace Kooper as the new frontman for their second album, a self-titled that beat Abbey Road for the Album of the Year Grammy(!).

 

But so my point here is that I have to imagine that anything I say about the "sounds of Father Is Child to the Man" probably doesn't apply to Blood, Sweat & Tears. That's a different kind of blind spot, one that I'll have to get to on my own time eventually. And, like, BST is the type of band that has 161 musicians listed under their "other members" section on Wikipedia, so I can't imagine that they ever sounded the same twice.

 

So, in a few respects, this was the perfect album to start Phase II of this project. I knew of them, but I didn't know them, except that I kind of knew some of the bits and pieces already, and then I am left holding the bag for so many other tangential blind spots because of them that it really just opens my eyes to how vast and wonderful and mysterious this thing we call "music" truly is. 

P.S. this has to be one of the creepiest album covers ever, right?

Simple Pleasures, Pam

I imagine that as a three year old in 1988, "Don't Worry, Be Happy" had to be a favorite song of mine. Thinking back, it feels like a song that was just always there. Not that I remember listening to it all the time, but when it played, I guess I just imagined that it was a song that was a lot older than 1988, than me. And although there was definitely a lot of cool stuff going on with music in the late '80s, this type of sunshine and rainbows music is absolutely what comes to mind, for me, when I think of the time. And that's probably all thanks to this song (and "Kokomo").

Knowing that the '90s were just around the corner, and with everything that came along with that decade, it's hard to believe that a song like "Don't Worry, Be Happy” could have been so popular in '88. As someone who worries a lot, I can report that it's not easy—not worrying, that is. I have to think that many people are in the same boat, especially with how these last few years have and are continuing to play out. But I do appreciate the reminder. Maybe it just feels good to be reminded of that sentiment. Maybe that's how the people of 1988 were feeling too.

Simple Pleasures, Nate

Hard to get past "Don't Worry, Be Happy." On an album of covers and songs that structurally sound as if they were written by someone else, "Don't Worry, Be Happy" stands out as apart, above. The original good vibes anthem, sullied by oversaturation and I Love the '80s (Hal Sparks has much to answer for). It makes sense that this is the song, above all others, that rings out three decades since its initial release.

There are records a person enjoys and there are records a person admires, and Simple Pleasures is admirable as hell. The arrangement and layering of vocals on display, to say nothing of their performances, are technically magnificent and strategically impressive. This is the kind of album that wins Grammys. The bones of the future of indie rock are here; the do-it-allism of Andrew Bird, the haunted house call-and-response of early TV on the Radio. Much to take from it, less to return to. Hakuna Matata.

Simple Pleasures, Sunny

I was telling a friend the other day that my M.O. may be as simple as "Don't Worry, Be Happy." It's way too trite and priggish to make too much a point of however. Maybe that's because DWBH is much easier said than done? First week back from holiday and we have a barnburner of a snowstorm: closed highways, stuck cars, MgCl₂ coming out of my ears. Even if you're fortunate enough not to deal with it personally, someone nearby will mention it. Hard not to worry and/or be anxious.

Then on the flip you have Bobby scattin', poppin', and be-boppin' for half an hour. Some original songs, some original scats, some cute covers, McFerrin is trying to convey the air of a happy dude. Going so far to say outright something like I'm a happy dude. Is he actually happy? Why does my mind jump there? Does it even matter? If it walks like a happy dude, sings like a happy dude, then, well.

So, despite my inclination to be frigid this week, I'm radically accepted by DWBH, a song I'm sure I've heard 999 times and soon a thousand, for its simple on-the-face lyrics and music. With a little perspective, I can see little pleasures even among the chaos and make them the eye of a storm. A short snowball fight? Finding an untouched winter pond? Hot toddies? Frozen Junior Mints? Scat-bat-do-wop-de-bop? Simple pleasures are the best.

Simple Pleasures, Melissa

Simple Pleasures by Bobby McFerrin is something else. I think, at some point in my life, I had "Don't Worry, Be Happy" as a ringtone for like ten days before I realized it was then on loop in my head all the time. And now, on day three of 2022, it's on loop again.

To the rest of this album, here were my candid thoughts:

"What am I listening to?"

"Dammmnnn that's a whole lotta mouth noises."

"Oh, this song could end now..."

"Don't focus on how he's making the noise, just listen to the music..."

"HOW IS HE MAKING THAT SOUND FROM HIS MOUTH HOLE!?"

"Is this what being on speed sounds like?"

"I love Mr. Noodle. I wonder how he and Bobby became friends."

"Robin Williams is trying too hard in this video."

"This song is '80s equivalent of ASMR."

"I like these themes..."

"I do not like these mouth noises."

4 out of 10 Mr. Noodles

Simple Pleasures, Joe

Philosophically speaking, I've gone back and forth all week as to how I feel about "Don't Worry, Be Happy" (though I'm sure we can get to the bottom of it before the end of this review). The phrase "don't worry, be happy" was used as a slogan by Meher Baba, a spiritual leader in the mid-20th century. He meant the phrase literally—stop worrying, and just be happy. After Bobby McFerrin adopted the phrase and turned it into a Billboard chart-topper, comedian George Carlin responded to the song by calling it "the kind of mindless philosophy that Americans would respond to." I can see both sides of the equation.

On the one hand, it's so fucking simplistic to think that we can solve all our problems by just "not worrying" about them. That's something I would tell my three-year-old when she drops her cheese sandwich: "Don't worry about it." I'm telling her not to worry because it's not that big of a deal, and yet she thinks that it is, and so I need her to calm down, and I do so by attempting to relieve some of the pressure of having dropped a cheese sandwich—"don't worry, be happy." Again, this is something you do with a child. To be a grown man and to be told by another grown man that none of my problems matter because I can get rid of them by just not worrying about them... it's insulting.

On the other hand, I'll admit that I tell myself "don't worry" constantly anyway. Last weekend, I had some paperwork I needed to complete by Monday for my scholarship, shit that would be financially ruinous if I fucked up, shit that I had had weeks to do and of course was waiting till the very last day to complete. So the existence of this paperwork hung over me like the fucking sword of Damocles through the NYE weekend, a constant knot in my fucking stomach. I kept telling myself "don't worry."

You know what? I had no reason to worry. I got up early on Monday morning and got shit done. For all that worrying I did, I could've just been happy instead. I reason with myself that I had no cause to worry because shit like that always gets done. Always. Don't worry, be happy.

But then maybe that's just being naïve that there isn't privilege involved here. Specific privilege, in that I have the mental capacities to be able to wake up early and get something done, and that I am able to procrastinate because historically I have had the know-how to get it done in that way. General privilege, in that some dumb fucking paperwork was the only thing that was worrying me in the first place, that I am in a position in life that everything is going well except for three hours of extra work that I had to do for one week. Maybe other people don't have the same privilege of not worrying, of being happy.

Or maybe the worrying is what is keeping me happy in the first place. Short-term, it was a pain in the ass having to worry about some stupid fucking paperwork. Long-term, it was to my benefit that I worried about it, because that means I was motivated enough to get it done. If I wasn't worrying, then I would've missed the deadline, and I would've been pretty unhappy to have to drop out of school. I think this is what George Carlin was referring to, how a society that didn't worry about anything would cease to function, and then no one could be happy. Don't worry, be happy? Do worry, be happy? I think you just have to find a happy medium.

Bobby McFerrin, of course, doesn't go into that much detail during his a cappella plea for not worrying and for being happy. It's not "Don't Worry, Unless ___, in Which Case Worry, but Either Way You'll Hopefully Be Happy" or whatever. It's just "Don't Worry, Be Happy," implying a direct correlation. I think ultimately I find myself stuck between two sides of myself—the side that knows that I need to worry a little bit and be unhappy until I find a sensible way to relieve that worry so that I can achieve ultimate happiness, and the side that wishes so hard that I had nothing to worry about that I shake my fists at Bobby McFerrin and George Carlin and god that I can't just be happy all the time and not worry about stupid fucking bullshit like dumb fucking paperwork.

In no way do Bobby McFerrin's vocal jazz stylings act as some sort of balm for this emotional crisis, by the way. It just doesn't. I get that it's impressive, that no instruments appear on Simple Pleasures besides McFerrin's voice, and yet he is able to layer a remarkable amount of different sounds on top of one another to create songs. He even does a guitar solo with his throat at the end of the Cream cover! It's some extraordinary stuff.

So it's "good" in that it's impressive as a feat of music-making, but it is not "good" in that I enjoy it. I spent the first listen-through marveling at the technical know-how, and the next nineteen listens-through gradually getting more and more annoyed. No offense to Bobby McFerrin, who is very good at what he does, but I'd get just as annoyed at any high school a cappella group. Unless Bobby McFerrin wants to sing about "suckin' on my titties," then he was always fighting a losing battle here.

I almost don't even care about any of that. "Don't Worry, Be Happy" was the big cultural touchstone here, and it's really the only thing that matters on Simple Pleasures. I was in the womb during the months that the song stormed the pop charts, and so it must've been through the uterine walls that I first heard "Don't Worry, Be Happy." If they say that life is constant pain from birth until death, then I was in a rare position to hear "Don't Worry, Be Happy" and actually have reason to believe it. I had nothing to worry about. I wasn't born yet.

But then I was born on December 1, 1988, and the worrying began. "Don't Worry, Be Happy" was descending the charts at that point, but it was still at #67 on that day, and it remained popular enough that I could sing the song from memory at an early age. 

I don't know if I can ever take it seriously. I mean, the a cappella stick, I will never take that seriously, but I'm still talking about the philosophy of "Don't Worry, Be Happy." How can you possibly take such an aphorism seriously? To not worry, and to thus be happy? Because you know from experience. You've known it since birth. If you don't worry, then you will either never be happy, or you'll be so ignorant that you'll eventually fuck off and die. That's just the way it is, folks. Sorry to break it to you in an album review.

GRADE: 2 pukes out of 5

Never Seen It, #67 of 200: Full Metal Jacket

Back on my movie shit again, going through this list of 200 movies I've never seen, officially 1/3rd of the way through, let's get to 2/3rds by the end of 2022.

Full Metal Jacket

1987

Stanley Kubrick

I saw this tweet in the interim between Never Seen It blog posts:

I hope at the very least that I've made it clear in this column that I am not a cinephile, and that I've expressed my doubts clearly enough that I will ever even be one, even after watching 200 additional movies for a blog project. I won't deny that I say dumb shit about movies, but my ignorance is at least underlined with a sense of self-awareness about the whole endeavor. No disrespect to cinephiles!

At the same time, I don't want such a tweet or such a mindset to discourage me from exploring these movies as I see fit. I think a lot of people say a lot of dumb shit about music, but I'm always here to provide recommendations for people who want to "get into music." I'm not going to take offense if someone likes Post Malone and has never heard of the Hold Steady. I'll have an argument against it, but the argument is the good part. At least it's engagement. I'm trying to engage in movies here. Being dumb is the starting point. "Being a cinephile" isn't the end point, but the journey should at least move the markers down the field a little bit, and I can't do that if I don't dive in. Even if that means I say dumb shit, or profess ignorance, even after all this fucking time.

Here's some ignorance for you: every time I walk away from a Stanley Kubrick movie, I feel like I'm more confused than when I started. This is the fourth Kubrick movie that I've watched for this project (out of seven), and there hasn't been a single time when the credits rolled and I've felt like I understood the movie. It's not complete bafflement, but it's just like something is off in my mind, like I can't articulate what I'm feeling, and I'm not sure if that feeling is just there because it's a void that could be filled with actual intelligent thoughts, if I had them. Does this make it good art? Absolutely. But that doesn't exactly mean that it's easy to write about.

I suppose it's possible that Kubrick is considered a "genius" because he takes what is "normal" in filmmaking and then does the opposite, like he's knocking down walls and whatnot. I don't know this for sure, I'm just speculating. This might be why I'm so confused, because I'm not intimately familiar with what is "normal filmmaking," and so when that is upended, I'm still left in the dark. For example, Full Metal Jacket has a pretty unique narrative structure, in that it is bifurcated into two distinct stories (training and war). That's not normal, right? To have two distinct stories that only share a few characters and not much else, not even thematically? But it's not even something I would've thought about were it not for watching Full Metal Jacket. I take it for granted when a narrative is a cohesive whole. Kubrick pulls the rug out from under me before I even get to examine the rug.

Or how we must once again consider what it means to be a "war movie," and how Full Metal Jacket doesn't seem to have much interest in the idea. With The Deer Hunter and Apocalypse Now, I felt like I was able to confidently draw the conclusion that this was an anti-war film. That conclusion was implicit, but it was still clear. With Full Metal Jacket, I don't get that sense. Not that it's pro-war in any sense, but that it doesn't seem to expect anyone to take away from the movie that "war is bad." This might have to do with the scope of the story. The Deer Hunter spent an excessive amount of time with the young soldiers prior to deployment, and so you felt the transition. Apocalypse Now ramped up the atrocities of war—both external and emotional—to an absurd degree, to the point that the audience had no room for argument. Full Metal Jacket mostly just drops us into the middle of it, and is content to say "this is how it was." (This is not speculation, as this is specifically how Kubrick himself described the film.)

 

We don't get a sense of who each soldier is prior to the Marines, since the first scene in the film is the ritual head-shaving of the recruits. We don't really get a sense of what happens afterward either; there is barely any mention of Gomer Pyle after his tragic ending less than halfway through the film. Our eyes in the film are that of Joker, whose namesake characteristic is that he doesn't seem to be taking any of this all that seriously. He is, in fact, an interloper, able to consider the "duality of man" without literally taking part in that duality.

But see, now I feel like I'm talking out of my ass again, because what, all of a sudden I'm a war film expert after watching like five war movies in the past two years? I'm not really talking about war movies, I'm mostly talking about Kubrick, and how I don't feel like I have a good grasp on his work yet. That's the point here, my ignorance. Everything else is just straw-grasping.

There will be a day, however, that I feel like I "get it," the it being both Kubrick films and then also films in general. Cinephile? Never. But definitely to the point where I can competently talk about film. That day is not today, however, and so I won't waste any more of your time.

GRADE: 3 pukes out of 5

NEXT TIME: I feel like I do get Scorsese, however, at least a little more than Kubrick, and so we will check out Gangs of New York and again see what all the fuss is about.

The Albums That Matter: Blind Melon

Joe runs through every album on his iPod, mostly in alphabetical order, and offers some brief thoughts. Check out previous columns HERE.

Blind Melon

Blind Melon

1992

A tale as old as time: if you're coming to the album with expectations built by the big single, then you're going to be either surprised or disappointed (maybe both?). "No Rain" is one of the great pop singles of the '90s, and on Blind Melon, it sticks out like a sore thumb. I'm not saying that this is a good thing, or a bad thing, or whatever. It's just a true thing, that the album as a whole has very little to do with its crowning achievement.

If you are reading this blog post, then I might say it's reasonable to surmise you were alive when "No Rain" was big. Even if the guitar riff doesn't immediately pop into your head when you see those two words, you can click on the YouTube link and know exactly what song this is within seconds. It peaked at #20 on the Billboard Hot 100. Rock songs entering the Top 20 was not nearly as rare in the '90s as it would be today, but I'm just saying—the song was popular. You know it already.

 

I guess the point of today's short blog post—besides ostensibly making the case for Blind Melon's "importance," which has always been the true point of The Albums That Matter, and is a point so nebulous that it's no wonder I haven't written a true entry in this column in over a year—is to tell you why the other dozen, decidedly non-popular songs on Blind Melon are similarly worth your time. If they aren't like "No Rain," then what exactly are they like?

It may be reductive to describe them like this, but I'll do it anyway, since RIYL Calculus is a fun game to play—Blind Melon sounds like Pearl Jam + Lynyrd Skynyrd. The math works because all three bands have a similar sense of scope. Like Pearl Jam, Blind Melon are firmly in the early-'90s grunge/alternative rock tradition, but also that sound is filtered through southern roots (3/5ths of the band is from Mississippi, the other two from rural areas in IL and PA).

There is some fucking heft to this album. Stuck exactly in the middle of the thirteen-song set, "No Rain" practically feels like an interlude sometimes. Otherwise, it's chock full of loud guitars jamming out, many of the songs reaching near the five-minute mark. There is a lot going on. On most songs, each of the two guitarists are separated onto a different channel, so if you're listening with headphones, you have Chris Thorn on the left, and Rogers Stevens on the right. And they are both playing something different, and they are both playing loudly. They are able to efficiently create a wall of sound that really never lets up.

Not that the guitars are even the centerpiece here. Shannon Hoon is the vocalist, and I think it might even be fair to say that the man has one of the most recognizable voices in '90s rock? He's up there with Cobain and Vedder. Sort of a nasally falsetto that cuts right to the bone. The only reason we're not hearing Hoon's name mentioned among the greats of rock 'n' roll is because his life was tragically cut short in 1995. Like many rock stars, his end was sadly preventable. Like many rock stars who pass too soon, he left a legacy anyway.

Blind Melon is absolutely part of that legacy, and not just because of "No Rain." I mean, that song is probably the reason we are still talking about Blind Melon in 2022. Fair enough. I'm just saying that there's a lot more behind the curtain here. It might be technically true that Blind Melon are a "one hit wonder," but such a phrase is insulting to the solid deep cuts here that didn't have the pleasure of being ultra-popular on American radio.

I don't even know if I'd go so far as to say that there are "underrated gems" on Blind Melon. None of the twelve non-"No Rain" songs sound like "No Rain," but they all kind of sound like each other, if that makes sense. None of it stands out. I prefer to let the tough, gritty sounds wash over me, as opposed to trying to pick out favorites. It still works if you listen to Blind Melon that way.

 

The main thing is that you listen to something besides "No Rain." It's an amazing song, but there's plenty more to unpeel here. Blind Melon stands as one of those rare albums that features "the big hit" but is not in any way weighed down by that big hit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If this album sounds interesting, then try this song: "Paper Scratcher"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stray Observations

• I went through a very short phase in college when I was using iTunes gift cards to purchase songs from the '90s that I was nostalgic for. I must've heard "No Rain" on the radio when I was home for winter break one year, because a gift card from Xmas was used to buy the song. So I never really stopped listening to this song.
• I went a long time with that song being the only Blind Melon song on my iPod, however. It wasn't until Steven Hyden started pushing Blind Melon's second album, Soup, as some unheralded masterpiece that I finally got around to downloading a full album. And of course, enjoying Soup made me curious as to whether the debut self-titled was just as good.
• And it almost is! If we're in the business of comparing Blind Melon's only two albums—which we might as well, since this column will almost certainly never cover Soup—then I'll give the edge to Soup, since there is no "all these songs sound kind of similar" problem or "the big hit, while amazing, is also kind of a distraction" problem. Still about as solid a two-album discography as you could ever hope to create.
• Apparently Blind Melon was interested in replacing Shannon Hoon after his death, but eventually disbanded after a four-year search. Not surprisingly—dude seems like a tough person to replace.
• (But then also apparently they did find a replacement, and released a new album with new lead singer Travis Warren in 2006. Blind Melon are still a part-time concern, with Chris Thorn saying as recently as 2019 that new music was on the way. Reading between the lines on Wikipedia, I'd estimate that those plans were scuttled due to COVID.)
• ALBUM COVER: Okay, if you were alive in the '90s, you were familiar with "Bee Girl." A little girl dressed up like a bee dances around in gritty urban environs for the "No Rain" video that got heavy MTV airplay. The album cover for Blind Melon is also a Bee Girl. However, I just learned today that they are NOT THE SAME BEE GIRL. The video one is portrayed by a former child actress named Heather DeLoach. The picture on the cover is drummer Glen Graham's younger sister, taken in 1976. DeLoach was cast in the video due to her similar physical appearance to the young Georgia Graham.
• I'm always interested in weird ass instruments that are played on albums. "Sleepyhouse" has a credit for a sārangī player! I suppose I can hear a sārangī!
• "Sleepyhouse" is a reference to the house that the band all lived in together. Not the best song on the album, but I still love learning little trivia like this. (It's not even the first time that we encountered this type of thing in TATM—remember Bell House?)
• CHARTS: Blind Melon peaked at #3 on 9/11/93. The #1 album that week was River of Dreams by Billy Joel, which is a damn shame. "No Rain" peaked at #20 on 10/30/93. The #1 song that week was "Dreamlover" by Mariah Carey. Remember when Carey was a powerhouse on the charts? You should, because she was just at #1 again two weeks ago. Let's try to get "No Rain" to #1 for Christmas 2022!!!!!!!!
  
• PREVIOUSLY ON THE BLOG: I compared Soundgarden to Blind Melon a few months ago when we covered Superunknown. I'll stand by the comparison, though after listening to Blind Melon all day, I get the sense that Soundgarden were a little more polished, while Blind Melon was more content to jam out and get messy. Though that didn't stop the two bands from touring together in 1991. I also imagined a hypothetical scenario in which a Hansen brother replaces Shannon Hood in my Tinted Windows review. I honestly don't know if I still stand by that one.
  

NEXT TIME: Last time there was a "next time" I was saying in November 2020 that we'd be doing Blind Melon next, so I understand your skepticism. But if/when there is a next time, we will be covering Blisters in the Pit of My Heart by Martha.

Top Five Tuesday: Eagles Games

The final Eagles game of the regular season is next Saturday, and so, sixteen games in, I can officially say that this will most likely be the first season of my life I don't watch a single minute of a single regular season game. Which is really fucking weird! Not that I'm the biggest fan, but I am a fan, and I usually try to watch a few of the games with some friends throughout the autumn and winter. 

I guess the theory is that COVID kind of put some things into perspective, ya know? Like, is football really something that we should consider important at this point? 800,000 dead and we're getting upset about a jock throwing a ball? That's exaggerating, sure, but it's a valid theory. I just can't bring myself to care like I used to.

There are other factors. The kids are a priority in the house, and so I'm not going to be planning my Sunday around a football game. I don't work on Sundays anymore, so I'm not sitting at my desk watching on the computer. I don't work around many dudes anymore, so I am not forced to speak about the Eagles in day-to-day small talk, even when I don't want to. And the Eagles were projected to be mediocre this year, i.e. it didn't seem like there was much to get excited about.

Not that that's what it was really about, anyway. Watching the Eagles on Sundays felt like an event regardless of how well the team itself was performing. It was more of an excuse to gather friends and drink, ya know? And we did that a lot, especially pre-kids. 

So in honor of all the good times in seasons past, and all the hypothetical fun we missed out on this current season, I'm going to rank my favorite Eagles games / the good times we had watching those games. I'm only including regular season games, since I've probably already written enough about playoff / Super Bowl games on this blog anyway, and since I'll most likely be watching the Eagles in a couple weeks, if they do indeed end up making the playoffs this year [editor's note: officially clinched!].

Top Five Favorite Regular Season Eagles Games

5. October 23, 2016

Vikings at Eagles

21-10 Eagles Win

Remember when Facebook was a legitimate tool for organizing events? Those were the days. Mid-October of 2016, I write "who wants to come over for the Eagles" and a few people (La Salle Friends) show up for Pam's chili, and we have a great day. It's as basic as you can get.

4. December 20, 2015

Cardinals at Eagles

40-17 Eagles Loss

I guess I was talking with my siblings about how I'd never been to an Eagles tailgate, and a drunken plan turned into an actual, real-life plan, when we decided to brave the cold and actually tailgate the Eagles (this is when Bob had season tickets). Probably would also be on the list of Top Five Coldest I've Ever Been, but still a fun time. Most of us didn't have tickets (Jenny was begging someone to take hers), so the ticketless went back to Port Richmond to watch the actual game and thaw out.

3. December 6, 2015

Eagles at Patriots

35-28 Eagles Win

Alright, I already wrote about this one. Too good not to include again, though. Here's what I previously wrote: "I happened to be drinking with my fair-weather Patriots fan friend Drew on December 5, 2015, on the night before an Eagles vs. Patriots game that by all accounts was expected to be a Patriots blowout. Drinking $2 High Lifes at Fishtown Tavern, I say to Drew, "I'll bet you the Eagles win tomorrow." "Haha yeah right." "If the Patriots win, I'll give you $1, if the Eagles win, you give me $100." "Deal." Smash cut to the biggest upset of an otherwise disappointing season. Everyone was really into the game, even Pam, because not only did we want Tom Brady (a.k.a. FUCK TOMB) upset, but also because everyone wanted Drew out $100. He was a man of his word, though, when the Bird finally came out on top, and I had the $100 in my hands eventually, which I promptly put on black when me and Drew and the gang went to Vegas (it was red)."

2. October 12, 2014

Giants at Eagles

27-0 Eagles Win

Here's the sweet spot—we were old enough to own a home and have the space to invite friends over, but young enough to actually want to hang out and drink on a Sunday night (okay, okay, Indigenous Peoples' Day was the next day, so some of us had off). We were young enough that cheap beer was still on the menu, but old enough that people actually brought food! We were old enough that it was best to just invite the core group of friends, but young enough that that core group of friends was actually able to hang out without, like, finding a babysitter. Good times.

1. December 29, 2013

Eagles at Cowboys

24-22 Eagles Win

We had literally just moved into Port Richmond, so we were hosting. But it was a big Eagles game, and so two friends (who will remain nameless, for reasons that will become apparent at the end of this paragraph) joined us at the neighborhood bar for some beer and wings. I guess we had done enough shots that taking a cab down to Xfinity Live! sounded like a good idea. Once we got there, it was confirmed—we were drunk enough that it was a good idea. It was fucking packed. It honestly felt like we were in a stadium. Great win, great times. We ended up back at Port Richmond, with our two friends sleeping over. After everyone was asleep, the one friend decided that it was a good idea to sneak out of the house and visit the strip club down the street. He claims that he "walked in and then walked out because it was a bad idea," but who is to say, really?

Honorable Mentions: The time I was stuck on 676 for an hour and a half in a city car, listening to Wentz tear up the Broncos, which was cool but not necessarily in the spirit of this list; the time that Pam got us kicked out of Murph's during the game, which didn't make the list because I have no idea what game that was; the time I was working at the Laf and one cook ran into the kitchen yelling "he ran it back!" and we all booked it to the break room and watched replays of Miracle at the Meadowlands II, which was probably the best game on this list, but didn't make it due to the fact that I didn't actually watch it live.

Song of the Week: "New Song"

New song, just like the old songs.

"New Song"

The Who

from Who Are You

1978

Those synths, man. They are something. They feel like something out of Disney's Tomorrowland, an erstwhile vision of the future that has soured like milk, and yet is also kind of interesting the more you think about it. How could one band have been so wrong about where music was headed? Could the Who have really thought that the meowing synth tones were cool in the late 1970s?

 

A lot about the Who probably didn't seem cool at the end of the decade. Punk rock was coming into fashion, and the Who were aging out. I almost wonder if their way of pushing back against the punk ride tide was to purposefully go in the opposite direction. With the synths, they pretty much predicted '80s hair metal, which I'll also have to go ahead and consider cool, that idea of being prognosticators, even if the sound itself turned out to the corniest shit imaginable.

 

More so than being just uncool, Who Are You was practically a nail in the coffin in some respects. And no, I'm not talking about the fact that the final track on Who Are You, the title track, is one of the worst songs of all time (though if anyone was wondering about whether the Who were cool still, that must have immediately dispelled the notion). I'm talking about the fact that Keith Moon OD'd about a month after the album's release.

 

The Who isn't the Who without Keith Moon, no matter how much Daltrey might try to convince you otherwise. The Who was barely even the Who during the recording sessions for Who Are You, when Moon was so deep into his alcoholism that he had trouble lifting the drum sticks. (The infamous "Not to Be Taken Away" on the cover of Who Are You wasn't actually a grim prediction, but rather it was placed there to hide Moon's huge beer belly.) Heading in the wrong direction, the Who finally came upon a dead end.

Moon's last words are allegedly: "If you don't like it, you can fuck off!" That's the thing, though. I actually really, really like this album (again, save for the title track), and I think "New Song" is an excellent opener to another classic Who album, synths and all.

A lot of the songs here were apparently rescued from the abandoned Lifehouse project that had imploded almost a decade prior (most of which became Who's Next in 1971), and it shows. These are songs rescued from a rock opera, with all the bombast that comes with such a premise. The epic "Sister Disco," for instance, has a electrical fiddle-type part that is akin to "Baba O'Reilly." So that's what's good with all the synths, even though it feels strange too, having all these songs awash with synths outside of the context of the next great rock opera.

 

Which I guess to a certain degree makes "New Song" an ironic title, no? Since it was at this point—a band trending downward, feeling old, and literally dying—that maybe the Who really did need a new song. But "New Song" is the same old song for this band. The Who reacts to their impending extinction by hunkering down and doing what they do and did and have always done best. There's courage to find in such a reaction.

Because we—you and me—now stand on the precipice of a brand new year ourselves, with all the uncertainty that comes with living in such a time in history, and it might be time to start thinking whether we need a "new song" as well. What will your reaction to the trials and tribulations of 2022 be? Dig in and hold strong? Crumble and die on Harry Nilsson's couch? Wield the figurative synth like a sword and say "bring it on"?

"I write the same old song you heard a good few times / Admit you really want to hear it." There's fear in uncertainty, and yet we face this new song anyway. Happy new year, everyone.

Album of the Week: Simple Pleasures

We made it. A new year. Welcome to 2022, everybody. A fresh year of Record Club coming at you, with a lot of big plans.

 

First—if anyone wants to rope in Record Club to your New Year's resolutions, I have some benchmarks already mapped out for you. Check out the goals and prizes HERE.

Next—I pretty much have the entire year mapped out already. Here's a little preview.

• Starting today, and running every other week until early May, I am going to pick the album.
• Those ten picks are going to fall into two distinct categories.
• The first five picks are going to be "genres we haven't done yet." Nothing too outrageous/unlistenable, but definitely some corners of music we haven't touched upon in the first three years of RC.
• The final five picks are going to be "bands from corners of the globe that we haven't visited yet." When that time comes, I'll put up the map of where every RC pick hails from, and then those five picks are going to be from countries in the blank spaces of the map. Again, nothing too outrageous, but definitely get ready to get at least a little weird with it.
• In the weeks in between, of course we're going to have all the regulars get their picks in, as well as anyone who reaches out to me with suggestions / a desire to get intimate with Record Club.
• I also have noted that, in the first six months of 2022, at least four Record Club members have birthdays that fall on a Sunday, so they will get first choice on those particular Sundays, if they want it.
• Okay, so that brings us to early May. For seven weeks after I've had my say with the dumbass genre/countries thing, we're gonna tie up loose ends. Anyone who hasn't gotten a chance to make their voices known and has earned that right by the start of the summer ("earning" = writing a review sometime since your last pick) will get a shot at picking an album if they want to.
• The first four weeks in July, we're going to do "best of 2022 so far" based on a few different metrics/websites.
• For the next sixteen weeks after that, it'll mostly be a free-for-all, but with a special concentration on people who are included in the weekly email, but have never participated. The question will be presented to the members of this subgroup: "What will it take for you to participate in Record Club?" If we can't come up with something, I will be gently removing them from the email. But I'd love to come up with something for everyone, because Record Club is free and open and, in my opinion, worth participating in.
• That brings us to the week of Thanksgiving, which I will do, since turnout is low that week.
• There are three full Record Club weeks in between Thanksgiving Week and Christmas Album Week, so we'll get some last-minute picks in.
• That brings us to the end of the year, with only one EP, since Christmas and New Year's are both on Sundays at the end of the year.

I can imagine most of you scrolled right past all that. I do not blame you. I really just mapped it all out because I'm really excited to get started this year. We're gonna have some fun. Thanks for being part of it.

As always, you can check out the 152-song playlist HERE, and the full archives HERE, and then continue on below to see the (new genre for us) album of the week.

WEEK 153 — January 2-8, 2022

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

ALBUM: Simple Pleasures

ARTIST: Bobby McFerrin

RELEASED: August 5, 1988

GENRE: *trumpet blare* This one is vocal jazz and a cappella!

WHY JOE PICKED IT: So for most of my next ten picks, I fucked around on Rate Your Music until I found something that fit the bill. For instance, I realized that we have never done an a cappella album before, and I generated a chart that listed the top a cappella albums of all time. I don't remember where Bobby McFerrin came in on that chart—somewhere in the top ten, I'd imagine. But I mostly picked which one near the top of that chart looked the most interesting to me. I think "Don't Worry, Be Happy" is interesting. Is it good? I guess you'll have to wait for my review for that.

TRACKLIST:

1. Don't Worry, Be Happy
2. All I Want
3. Drive My Car
4. Simple Pleasures
5. Good Lovin'
6. Come to Me
7. Susie-Q
8. Drive
9. Them Changes
10. Sunshine of Your Love

LENGTH: 33:50

 

WHERE TO LISTEN FOR FREE: YouTube

 

READING SOME SHIT: Hmm, this section and the "Previously On" section might present some challenges during these genre / map exercises. Not too many interviews with McFerrin online. Terry Gross interviewed him a few times in the early '90s, though, so let's just link to them (even though that's "listening to some shit," sorry).

PREVIOUSLY ON RECORD CLUB: The nature of such a pick means that this artist probably hasn't shared any personnel with any other Record Club alumnus, or anything like that. But I did come up with three tangential connections, which was more than I had assumed!

 

First, "Don't Worry, Be Happy" won the Best Record and Best Song awards at the Grammys that year, so I wanted to if any other song covered in Record Club has won either award. One single song that we covered won both awards as well, and that song is "What's Love Got to Do with It" by Tina Turner (though Olivia Rodrigo has a chance at the end of the month to become the third RC alumna to pull both awards in).

Second, McFerrin covers the Beatles' "Drive My Car" on this album. This is the second Beatles cover that we've seen in Record Club, after the Feelies did "Everybody's Got Something to Hide (Except Me and My Monkey)."

 

Third, the video for "Don't Worry, Be Happy" features three men dancing around: McFerrin, Robin Williams, and Bill Irwin. You know Robin Williams, but you might not know Irwin... unless you have kids who watch Sesame Street. Bill Irwin portrays the infamous Mr. Noodle. In fact! I went through a master list of every celebrity who has every guest starred on an episode of Sesame Street, and not only were Bobby McFerrin and Robin Williams on there, but also the following Record Club alumni (for whom I will link to a video of their appearance instead of the AotW writeup, when possible): the Chicks, Dave Matthews, OK Go, Diana Ross, and Tilly and the Wall, plus a Kelly Clarkson song and a Rolling Stones song were parodied.

Happy listening, fam! Have a great week!

New Year's Resolutions for 2022

happy puke year

Blah blah blah, new year and high hopes and correcting the past year's mistakes and failures and so on and so forth.

First, the resolutions from 2020:

• Keto every day, no breaks — NOPE — I actually lasted maybe half the year? I forget when I stopped exactly. Keto was helping me lose weight, but I also felt like complete shit most of the time, so at a certain point, it's not worth it.
  
• 199.9 at some point — NOPE — But I was probably closer in late November than I have been in a decade. Forget keto, the thing that worked really well was calorie counting. Pretty simple. Felt good. The holidays dashed the dreams of getting below 200 before 2022, but as they say, there's always next year.
  
• Wish my friends a happy birthday — NOPE — I did start this, putting a lot of friends' birthdays in my calendar, and setting them on yearly repeats. So this goal is gonna roll over to next year too.
  
• Back up the blog — NOPE — Though I think if I had to have deferred my education till next year, I could've gotten through it. Homework, obviously, superseded a lot this fall.
  
• Watch 100 films — NOPE — I wrote about this a couple weeks ago. Close, but no cigar!
  
• Read twelve books — NOPE — Got through nine, which is better than I would have guessed (had to read one for school book report, so maybe that doesn't count, I dunno).
  
• Attend one party (safely) — YES — There were a few gatherings here and there, but I'll count Pam's and my Vaxx Bash this past April as the one that met the requirement, since it was definitely the safest. Everyone was fresh off getting their second shots, everyone was screened at the door, and we mostly chilled outside anyway. Felt good to be hanging out again.
  

Okay, not a terrible year. I only fully completed one single resolution, but for most of them, I made decent headway, enough so that I could easily roll 'em over to next year. So check out the 2022 resolutions list, and let's predict how few of them will actually get done:

• See 199.9 on the scale at some point — Starting to count those fucking calories again today, let's do this shit!
  
• Run 500 miles — The number sounds more intimidating than it actually is! I haven't run in a month or so, but if I want to today (and I might!), I could easily go 2.5 miles. Just doing that every other day would get us pretty close. Obviously, after a couple weeks of running every other day, that miles/day number is gonna bump up.
  
• Get all my friends' birthdays on the calendar and wish everyone a happy birthday — Get ready to get a text from me this week confirming your date of birth.
  
• Finish backing up the blog — Let's call this a summer project.
  
• Watch 100 films — I'm gonna do it this year!! At least 50 of them are going to be off this damn list too!!
  
• Build / install a Little Free Library on our property — Something like this. Though obviously not as nice/cutesy looking. Might be a nice little addition to our extremely strange corner of the city.
  
• Make 99 additional improvements to the house — (the Free Little Library making it 100 total.) This would include building, fixing, organizing, or special cleaning. It would not include regular maintenance like mowing the lawn or vacuuming or whatever.
• Get rid of 100 items — Living that minimalism lifestyle feels good. I don't even really have a lot of stuff lying around, but I want to take minimalism as far as I can take it this year.
  
• Engage in more BIPOC-created art — It's something I've struggled with, especially when it comes to music, for reasons I feel like I've explained a few times now. But I think we can officially put to bed to cop-out excuse of "well is this art made for me?" and just engage with it anyway, to experience some new ideas and to hold myself accountable.
  

I will make sure that these resolutions meet the SMART criteria—that they are specific, measurable, attainable, relevant, and time-based. "Specific" is why I wrote a description for each. I wouldn't have included any of them if I didn't think they were attainable or relevant. "Time-based" comes with the territory of New Year's resolutions (i.e. complete them by December 31, 2022). The only one I'd be mildly concerned with is "measurable." That's why I added numbered quantifiers to so many of them. BIPOC-created art? That's tougher to measure, because I don't want to keep a list, per se. But I think if I set monthly reminders to engage in art I wouldn't have otherwise were it not for this resolution, and if I can look back at the end of the year and I feel like I consistently did that, then I'll have met the goal.

Anyways, that's where we stand on the first day of the year. There's a lot of other bullshit that I wanna get done this year—good grades, writing, listening to music, Record Club, book club, baby-making, etc.—but I try not to include those on such a list, because they are gonna get done whether I want them to or not (like the schoolwork, which is "mostly not"). And there will be plenty of free time in between to blog about it all, every single day.

Happy New Year, and I'll see you tomorrow.

Record Club Goals for 2022

Welcome to Record Club! Throughout 2022, we'll be keeping track of how many reviews are written, and instituting long-term goals for the number of reviews we receive, as well as prizes for those who help up meet those goals. If we, as a group, reach certain levels of collective review-writing through the year, then those who qualify will be included in the prizes at the end of the year. Here are the prizes:

• If we write 300 reviews as a group, then everyone who wrote at least 12 reviews throughout the year will be invited to my house for a Record Club party, where you will enjoy free Taco Bell and free cheap beer, and listen to the Record Club playlist.
• If we write 350 reviews as a group, then everyone who wrote at least 13 reviews throughout the year will be invited to my house for a Record Club party, where I will actually cook legitimate appetizers, have nice beers and wine, and we can listen to whatever you want.
• If we write 400 reviews as a group, then everyone who wrote at least 15 reviews throughout the year will be invited to McGillin's for karaoke night, where I will pick up the bill for food and pitchers of beer, but you will also have to hear me sing my favorite songs from Record Club alumni.
• If we write 450 reviews as a group, then everyone who wrote at least 18 reviews throughout the year will be invited to a private party at a bar of your choosing, with open bar and free food.
• If we write 500 reviews as a group, then everyone who wrote at least 26 reviews throughout the year will be invited to a nice steakhouse (or wherever, your choice) for dinner, my treat, and then we will go to a strip club of your choice, where I will pay for a basic private dance for everyone involved.

As always, I will publish any review that you send my way, but in order for it to be a "qualifying" review, i.e. one that counts toward both our group and your individual total, then it needs to be:

• At least a little bit about the album we are reviewing (judged on case-by-case basis, and please do not let this rule impede your creativity, because I will be extremely lenient)
• At least 100 words

To give you a sense of how many reviews have been written in years previous, the totals look like this:

• 2019: 178 reviews (started in early February)
  
• 2020: 232 reviews
• 2021: 247 reviews
  

It's probable that everyone, including myself, will forget about these goals by the time the spring rolls around. That's okay! Record Club shouldn't be THAT important in the grand scope of your life. But I will try to keep editing this post every once in a while to keep up-to-date with current numbers. So check back to see how we're doing, and to maybe convince yourself that you should keep participating! Thanks everybody!

TOTAL REVIEWS IN 2022 SO FAR: 341

(as of 12/31/22)

 

LIST OF MEMBERS WHO HAVE REACHED PERSONAL GOALS:
Sunny — 60 reviews

Joe — 52 reviews

Nate — 49 reviews

Pam — 47 reviews

Kai — 13 reviews

Rachel S. — 12 reviews

Melissa — 12 reviews

Sam — 12 reviews