Tuesday, January 10, 2023

The How I Met Your Mother Defense


For this assignment, I watched as many episode of How I Met Your Mother as I could. Originally, I had planned to watch all 200-plus, but that proved too unwieldy of a task. There's just so much filler in this series. I'll build a case today, as best I can and in hopefully less than 2000 words (ha, yeah right), that Ted's journey is worth seeing on television, even though with that journey comes attached the tangential journeys of Lily and Marshall, which are pretty boring even now that I'm a parent just like them, and of Barney, who... may or may not be a rapist, depending on the age and politics of the person you ask. I think this TV series soars when it's focused on Ted's search for meaning in life, and it falters when it strays from that and instead follows the Erikson marriage or Barney trying to trick a co-ed into sleeping with him (or worse: when it focuses on Barney's search for meaning in life). I don't need to see Lily's pregnancy woes or Barney finding his biological father or the conclusion of the Slap Bet or any of that shit.

So there's that. After watching all of Season 1 and some of Season 2 (maybe finding Gabby convinced me that I didn't need to watch all of it because it reminded me of another recent Sisyphean television experience), I started to pick and choose episodes that felt like they needed to be watched in order to reorient myself with the Search for the Mother. Episodes like Season 3's "No Tomorrow," in which Ted is at the same St. Patrick's Day party as the Mother, and finds her umbrella, or Season 5's "Girls Vs. Suits," in which Ted briefly dates the Mother's roommate (and the Mother gets her umbrella back). And then I watched the last few episodes of the final season. My point being that this blog post isn't going to include a bulletproof defense for this show, because there were about 150 episodes that I skipped. But I think I got the gist.

The reason I've felt for years that this blog post needed to be written was that the ending to How I Met Your Mother was controversial at the time—and remains controversial today—and I always felt this need to defend it, without really being able to articulate why I loved the finale while others despised it. But I think after this quasi-rewatch, I have a better grip on my argument.

I feel like the big reason why people hate how the show ended was because it revealed the true purpose of the show all along, and that purpose was not what was presented to the audience. It was a surprise reveal, and the audience felt cheated. SPOILERS, by the way, because I'm about to talk about the ending of this show. So basically, the ostensible hook for this show, as indicated by its title, is that Ted sits his kids down in the year 2030 and decides to tell them the story of how he met their mother. It is an apparently byzantine tale that comically requires nine years to tell (there's your real problem, honestly—this probably should've been five years tops), but the point being that the kids, and we the audience, are told from the very beginning that this story is going to conclude with Ted meeting the Mother.

But that's not how the story ends! Yes, after a long, emotionally arduous journey, Ted finally meets Tracey McConnell, and they fall in love, and... then about 60 seconds after that happens on screen, it's revealed by 2030 Ted that the Mother passed away in like 2024. And then it's revealed that the true reason that Ted is telling this long story to his kids is because he's subconsciously attempting to build a case to his kids that he should be able to pursue Aunt Robin, a.k.a. the woman that, throughout this nine-year tale, he had befriended, dated multiple times, shared countless important life-altering moments with, and had at various times considered her to be The One (pre-Mother). Ted's kids know this. They claim they knew this was their dad's purpose for the story the whole time. They give their stamp of approval. Ted, in the year 2030, once again shows up at Robin's doorstep, searching for love. This is how the story ends.

So, first off, I get how you might feel like this is just too big of a rug-pull, and that you feel cheated. It is underlined again and again that Ted is going to meet The One, and then when he finally does, that The One is quickly pushed offstage in favor of another, Robin, with whom closure was never found, and never will (barring a series revival, which, in this craven and creatively-bankrupt television landscape, is unfortunately always a possibility). This is especially hard to swallow for married women in happy relationships, those of us who have found The One in real life—is the show trying to say that there could be love after one person in that loving relationship dies?! I get that too. In rushing to defense of the finale back in 2014, I was definitely accused of having a "Robin" or two in my life. It's not true, and that's not even the point here.

There's a different point, one that I realized on this current rewatch, but let's just stop for a moment and marvel at the audacity of this red herring. The Mother was indeed a red herring the whole time. The Mother who is mentioned in the title of the television series ultimately proved to be not important to the story! This is crazy! Regardless of how you feel, you gotta admit that it's pretty funny, right? I think it's funny. I think if the main point of this TV show was to trick the audience, then even then it would've been worth it. That's not the point, but so what?

And, in my opinion, it also speaks to the power that we the audience feel like we have over a story, and how ultimately powerless we really are. Just because we want the story to be about the Mother doesn't mean it has to be about the mother. Surprise reveals are a natural part of storytelling, sure, but in this case, was it that much of a surprise? From the very beginning, we are oriented to see Ted and Robin as the centerpieces of this drama (which is disguised as a comedy). Ted falls in love with Robin in the pilot episode! And over nine years, Ted really never stops being in love with Robin! There are plenty of reasons why it doesn't work out, and those reasons fill a lot of screen time over those years, but the point being that it's always Ted and Robin.

I'm not saying that they are ACTUALLY meant to be or whatever. By all accounts and also according to my own interpretation of this series, Ted and Tracy were actually perfect for each other, and actually did have a perfect life during their time together, and made their respective life challenges worth overcoming just by nature of their eventual togetherness and mutual love. But I'm saying that Ted and Tracy were never the part of the story that Ted wanted to tell. The story, as it was presented to us for almost a decade, was literally about Ted and Robin. And so why shouldn't that story conclude with Ted and Robin?

This is just me being the contrarian, though. As always. Oh, the vast majority of America thinks that the ending to How I Met Your Mother was dogshit? Well, psh, I think it was awesome, and here's how I am SMARTER than you. Ha ha ha.

Nah, I get it. You see what you want to see in art, even if that art is a three-camera sitcom. You can see a journey in search of true love in How I Met Your Mother, and you can be disappointed when the conclusion to that story isn't about true love at all. That is your right, and I won't begrudge you it.

Just don't begrudge me mine. And here's the interesting thing—in this latest viewing of How I Met Your Mother, I actually found a different way to view this series, one that changed my perspective on the whole endeavor. This actually might be helpful for you if you struggle with the ending and the alleged emotional manipulation that it entails. And this new theory is even able to justify the prominence of Marshall and Lily and Barney in this series, despite the fact that they are ancillary characters at best in Ted's love life. Here it goes.

How I Met Your Mother is not ultimately about Ted finding love or with whom he finds it with. How I Met Your Mother is actually about growing up. "Growing up" in this specific case meaning that time period from young adulthood to actual adulthood. How I Met Your Mother is a love letter to the struggles that we all face as we attempt to find our place in the world. It is a documentation of a specific portion of the human life cycle. The Mother marked the end of that journey for Ted. The Mother meant comfort and stability for Ted, which are not things that we have a good grasp on in young adulthood. But those challenges that we face during those times in our lives are what makes them memorable too, and thus worthy of the telling of the tale. Ted literally survived to tell the tale.

That's the main tension in the finale. This group of friends who traversed young adulthood together are now drifting apart, simply because they are true adults, with all that that entails (stability, family, home). The tension isn't, like, Lily resenting Marshall for making her a mother or any shit like that, because that would be sad and pathetic, just like it would be sad and pathetic for me to personally sit here and, like, sincerely miss college and wish I could go back there. I have a wife and kids and a home and a family. I'm fucking happy, man. Ted is fucking happy in the late-'10s, when he's living his best life with the Mother. But with that happiness comes just a tinge of sadness, because even though you're happy, that means that the other time in your life when you were happy (granted, in a completely different way) is now over, unequivocally, and you can never go back. It's not sadness, more nostalgia. And the tension comes from knowing that you're better off now, and yet still missing it a little bit.

So that's really why Ted is telling this story to his children. It's his way of grappling with the past. He knows that he was at his best with the Mother, and he is still happy and content in life with his children, even after the Mother passes away. But in telling this story to his children, he understands that there was value to be found in the struggle as well. Life sucked as a young adult because it was hard and confusing and challenging beyond anything he later experienced as a husband. Being a young adult is challenging, but with those challenges comes a sense of adventure. You have no idea what's going to happen, so that means anything could happen. There's a sense of a wonder that you lose when you get older and become more comfortable where you are. It's okay! Adventure is not necessary at every moment of your life, because that's exhausting.

I think that it's important to know that it will come back eventually, though, that sense of adventure. Speaking personally, I'm spending a lot of time in the home working together with my best friend to rear our three children. There's no adventure in that. There is comfort and stability, both which breed happiness, but certainly no adventure (as much as parents might try to fool themselves, and maybe even create a faux sense of adventure via social media posts about their kids). But sooner than we think, the children will be growing up, and create their own lives, and so I have faith that I will find that sense of adventure again soon enough. Those future adventures, in my mind, involve a lot of experiences with my wife, lots of literal adventures (trips to other countries and shit like that) and figurative adventures (learning new things, finding new ways to view the world) together with her.

Ted will never have the opportunity to rediscover that sense of adventure in the same way I hopefully will, because his wife is dead. So, on the surface, I think the Ted in 2030 believes that he is telling this tale about his kids' mother and framing it as a sad tale, as a tale of how he not only lost the love of his life, but also lost that sense of wonder and amazement that he had before he grew together with his wife. It is a tale of loss and regret in two different and yet inseparable ways.

And here we finally find true justification for ending the story with Robin. Don't be mistaken. No one—not the showrunners for HIMYM, not Ted, not Ted's kids, not me, not anyone—is trying to tell you that Robin is The One, that it should have been Robin, that Ted loves Robin more than he loved Tracy. No. What the show is trying to tell you is that you can find that sense of adventure once more. Robin is a symbol of that ability to find your sense of wonder in middle age. Even Ted, who won't be able to share it with the true love of his life. Even Ted, who's been down this road with Robin a thousand times and more, and who probably has a feeling that pursuing Robin in 2030 is going to end in disaster just like it did in 2005, in 2006, in 2010, and in 2013. But the important part is that he doesn't know. Life is a mystery again. Life is a challenge. There is value in pursuing Robin as late-40-something because there is value in being able to find a new adventure, and see what you can make of it. 

Yes, How I Met Your Mother underlines again and again that young adulthood is a special time in your life, and it's a worthy show based on that alone. But it also ends with a message that life does not end at the conclusion of that time period. "Finding the Mother" was just one mystery. There are plenty more where that came from.

Monday, January 9, 2023

Phony Beatlemania: "Strawberry Fields Forever"

Follow along in the book HERE. Today's song is featured on pages 33-40.


"Strawberry Fields Forever"
from Magical Mystery Tour
1967

I've long maintained that I'm tapped out when it comes to Beatles trivia. I know enough about the Beatles. I know more about the Beatles then I know about pretty much every other rock band combined. That's enough, ya know? Or so I thought. Because today, in only our second of 100 entries for 100 Beatles songs, I have learned something new that I'm intrigued by.

Apparently, John asked George Martin (the Beatles' ace record producer, and really the only true Fifth Beatle) to take the first half of one take, and the second half of another take, and segue them together. This being the mid-'60s, and the Beatles/Martin being pioneers in this sort of thing, George Martin claimed it "couldn't be done," since the two takes were different tempos and in different keys. But he did it. And you can hear it, still, at the 1:00 mark.

I have never noticed it before, but there it fucking is. A slight change in tempo for sure. I wouldn't be able to tell you much about musical key, but I definitely can feel a shift musically at that juncture too, so let's assume that's "key." The man did it. If you asked Martin when he was still alive, he would've told you that he hates the 1:00 mark, that it "sticks out to him like a sore thumb." Even though most of us pleebs would have never fucking noticed if it weren't for the over-abundance of Beatles books such as this one. I just thought it was some trippy Beatles recording wonkery, just four lads from Liverpool fucking around with some expensive equipment. I'm not perceptive like that!

Okay, so maybe I'm going to learn a thing or two on this journey. I'm going to learn about the Beatles, but I'm also going to learn about myself a little bit. Here's what I learned, or at least re-learned today: I really fucking love "Strawberry Fields Forever," especially from a thematic standpoint. Musically too, sure, with the overpowering orchestration, the wide gap between feel on verse and chorus, the revolutionary coda, the drumming (I will underline this 100 fucking times if I need to in this column—Ringo is the best fucking drummer of his era, and if you underrate him, I will CUT you).

But theme and lyricism is where it hits me in the gut. "Strawberry Fields Forever" lets you know pretty early on that this is a nostalgic exercise, and the first verse lays it plain. "Living is easy with eyes closed / misunderstanding all you see." This is how we live when we're young. It's great fun to be a kid because you don't fucking know anything. The strawberry fields are a metaphor. You can't stay there forever, but just for a moment, let John Lennon take you back, back to your own field. Let's reminisce.

Our esteemed authors disagree with me on this front. They claim the metaphor is "the earthly plane of human existence." They say that when Lennon says "nothing is real," he means nothing. That's a bridge too far for me, but then we all are allowed to have our own interpretations when it comes to music, aren't we? For what its worth, Lennon himself mostly focused on the second verse during a posthumous interview with Playboy. He said that "No one I think is in my tree" was a statement of isolation, that no one was as "hip" as he was.
 
Eh... feels more correct to call this a nostalgia exercise, doesn't it? Especially when paired up with "Penny Lane" on the double-A-side single featuring the two songs (we'll do a compare/contrast when we get to "Penny Lane," which is #8). And if Paul McCartney really was trying to one-up Lennon by writing "Penny Lane," then we can assume this is McCartney's interpretation too—that "Strawberry Fields Forever" is ironically about how you cannot stay in those strawberry fields forever, but also how it will always exist in your memory.

Yeah, you got me. I'm caught. Of course this shit is my catnip. I love that this 20-something genius was mulling over the same bullshit that I do on this blog all the time, i.e. the nostalgia and what it all means. I don't necessarily think that this is the second-best Beatles song of all time, but it's an easy Top 20, maybe even Top Ten.

I will say that I hate how heavily the authors lean on the fact that "Strawberry Fields Forever" sounded great in a stripped-down version presented on Anthology 2. That's not really why I'm here. I don't need to listen to different outtakes of these songs. Having the final versions from the LPs are enough for me. They do the same thing here that they did with "A Day in the Life," in which they present a context (full-orchestra version) and claim that it would be great even without that context (acoustic version). No!! Not true!! Goddamn it!! The "Strawberry Fields Forever" that existed on the single (and was eventually crowbarred permanently into Magical Mystery Tour) is the only version that matters, and it is because of this specific version that I'm saying it's one of the best Beatles songs.

That's just me being nitpicky against the authors though. I get what they are trying to do. They are trying to stack the case in favor of "Strawberry Fields Forever," and they are trying to say that it's a great song no matter what or how. I just can't imagine it any other way, is all I'm trying to say. You don't need to overstate it by making shit up. The psychedelic majesty of this tune is already untouchable, and the underlining message is what makes it special. I'll be saying this a lot in this column, but it's definitely worth saying now: good song.

WHAT'S BETTER: Frank wanted me to start naming a random Beatles song that I like better than the one I just wrote about, so I'm going to start that now and say that "I've Just Seen a Face" is better. I will be taking no questions at this time.

NEXT TIME: "Let It Be"

Sunday, January 8, 2023

Album of the Week: The Loneliest Time

Barely anyone releases new albums in early January (besides RuPaul, of fucking course), so I've always seen the beginning of the year as a good time to catch up on what you might have missed from the year that just ended. I'm glad Record Club is thinking that way too this week! Enjoy!

Record Club:

WEEK 206 — January 8-14, 2023


The Loneliest Time
by Carly Rae Jepsen

LISTEN:
Spotify | YouTube | Bandcamp | Apple

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PICKED BY SARA

SARA'S COMMENTS: "Carly Rae Jepsen has been a really fun pop queen that, I feel, has not gotten the recognition she deserves. She also had her first major hit at 27, which by industry standards is OLD. I think this album is fun and I hope others enjoy it!"

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ALBUM DETAILS

GENRE: Synth-pop

RELEASED: October 21, 2022

LENGTH: 42:23

TRACKLIST:
  1. Surrender My Heart
  2. Joshua Tree
  3. Talking to Yourself
  4. Far Away
  5. Sideways
  6. Beach House
  7. Bends
  8. Western Winds
  9. So Nice
  10. Bad Thing Twice
  11. Shooting Star
  12. Go Find Yourself or Whatever
  13. The Loneliest Time
LYRICS: Genius.com

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ARTIST DETAILS

PRONOUNS: she/her/hers

ABOUT: Carly Rae Jepsen was born in British Columbia, Canada, in 1985. In 2007, she placed third in Canadian Idol, which gained her some attention. But it wasn't until 2012's "Call Me Maybe" that she became actually famous. That song hit #1 on the American charts. She's maintained a steady stream of pop albums in the decade since, but hasn't seen the same kind of commercial success. As far as I can tell, she's become the indie-rockers' pop artist, but you can be the judge of that.

DISCOGRAPHY: This is either her fifth or her seventh LP, depending on whether you count the B-side collections for E•MO•TION and Dedication as legitimate releases (for the record, I do). Kiss was the 2012 album featuring "Call Me Maybe." She had one album prior to that, 2008's Tug of War, which I'm told is more folk-influenced.

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ADDITIONAL INFO

READING SOME SHIT: An interview with The Ringer, October 2022

WATCHING SOME SHIT: The video for the title track, featuring Rufus Wainwright

RECORD CLUB ALBUM ON THE DAY THAT THIS ALBUM WAS RELEASED: OK to Go by Virginia Coalition, with reviews from Joe, Pam, Nate, Sunny, and Sam (I will never give up on you, Zach!!!).

PREVIOUSLY ON RECORD CLUB: I wrote in my 2021 Record Club rankings that it feels like we've been circling the wagon around Carly Rae Jepsen for a while now. Well, the wagon has finally arrived. That means that we're connecting her to Marianas Trench, because the frontman is one of the co-writers of "Call Me Maybe." And we're connecting her to We Are Scientists, because they've both worked with Ariel Rechtshaid. What else we got?

Well, the list of credits for this album is... quite long. Not sure I'm gonna click on all of them. Rostam Batmanglij is a name I recognize (formerly of Vampire Weekend). He wrote two songs and played a bunch of instruments for this album. He also wrote "Fallingwater" on Heard It in a Past Life, "25/8" on Deadpan Love, was on an OK Go remix album that one time. Shawn Everett mixed a song on this album, and he also did work on three RC albums (Wasteland, Baby!, Imploding the Mirage, I Don't Live Here Anymore), and has worked with other RC artists otherwise (Weezer, Margaret Glaspy, Perfume Genius, Kurt Vile).

Other random shit before we wrap it up, since I promised myself this section would not be longer than three paragraphs anymore: The Loneliest Time was released the same day as Midnights (The Loneliest Time was also released at midnight); we just mentioned Full House a few weeks ago with the Beach Boys, and now here's Carly Rae Jepsen, who sings the theme song for Fuller House; like Bobby McFerrin and a whole host of other RC artists (a list that you can read on that McFerrin write-up), Jepsen was involved with a Sesame Street bit.

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Happy listening, RC family!
Have a great week!

Exit Survey: Joe on These Are Good People

See the rest of the exit surveys HERE.


1. Were you happy with the reviews that were published? How do you feel about your week as Record Club captain?

I'm always happy if at least one other person besides me writes a review. For the 205th week in a row, someone else wrote a review. Good stuff. Not only that, but there were eight reviews total, which is definitely above average.

Why so many reviews for this album? I don't know. It's random sometimes, with the right people deciding to write all at the same time. I'd like to think that maybe the slick new look of the Sunday write-up or the simpler-to-organize emails have something to do with it, but I'm not going to fool myself. It's also possible that members of the book club that are reading Michelle Zauner's book currently felt more pressure to write than usual. Or maybe it's just the dawning of a new year for Record Club, and eight reviews is going to be the new minimum!! We'll see!!!

2. How was the variety of opinions? A wide range, kinda samey, or somewhere in the middle?

Surprisingly same-y. No one loved it, no one hated it. There was some variance in the middle there from "eh, not bad" to "pretty good!" but no extremes. Sometimes, eight people together can just simply not be wrong. This was good, and that's it. 

I wonder if the fact that Zauner is Philly-semi-famous had anything to do with it. Like, if someone truly disliked this album but also knew that Zauner's music is popular, then it might become "well then it must be ME who is wrong" and be more forgiving/optimistic because of that. But then also she's not popular enough for anyone to dismiss her outright like they might a Swiftian-type pop star. So you're left with the middle ground no matter what your gut is telling you.

3. Were there any differing opinions that made you view the album in a different light?

This is my favorite question to answer, especially when everyone basically agrees with one another. Here is one thing that I disagree with from each review, in chronological order: from Rachel's, the term "main character"; from Gary's, that his nephew's band was awesome; from Keelan's, that I would listen to anything besides hardcore screamo music while cleaning the house; from Pam's, that it's called "Men's Book Club" (it's called Boys Book Club, and this is important because I don't want anyone thinking that this is an MRA-type thing); from Sunny's, that the phrase "Little Big League" is catchy for any reason other than the fact that it shares the name of a 1994 family sports comedy; from Sean's, that his shoebox is filled with anything other than dirty stiff rags that he's hiding from his wife; from Sam's, that J-Brekkie is shoegaze; from my own, that I'll lose 40 pounds this year.

Other than all that... there were a few things that I agreed with ultimately but would have never thought about it in that specific way. E.g. Gary's thing about lost friendships, or Sunny's comparison to Hop Along. Fuck what I disagree with. But the stuff that I didn't even realize I agreed with until it was written? That's the reason I love reading your reviews.

4. Was there anything about this album or this artist that you wished that people would've written about more?

Here's something I was thinking about while rereading all the reviews—there wasn't a single person out of the eight who came to this week having ever listened to Little Big League before. I feel like that's pretty rare, no? There's usually someone like "I used to listen to this when I was younger and it's better/worse because of that!" or whatever. I feel like that's an overdone perspective, but an important one nevertheless, and it was missing this week. Someone check on Nate.

5. How do you feel about your album choice now that the week is over? A success? Any regrets?

I think it was a good way to start off the year. Nothing too heavy, but also nothing that you couldn't take seriously if you wanted to. I just regret that I cannot invite my wife to Boys Book Club.

6. Any other takeaways from the reviews? Or from this experience in general?

Nah, you guys were great. Keep the reviews coming. It's more fun when I hear from you!

7. What is an improvement that Record Club can make that would enhance everyone's experience, either as a captain or as a listener/writer?

Well, I didn't get any negative feedback regarding any of the little changes around Record Club for 2023. A few album suggestions have been received and placed in the queue. We'll see how it goes!

Saturday, January 7, 2023

A Year of Blind Spots: Ready to Die

[Editor's note: I know I said a week ago that I was going to write two of these per week, but I'm already welching on that promise. I had a semi-drunk epiphany on New Year's Eve that I need to relax with the blogging stuff. Not "relax" as in "write less," but "relax" as in "stop worrying about planning ahead and having set schedules." I don't think anyone gives a fuck about when or how often A Year of Blind Spots shows up, so why should I? It'll be easier and more fun if I just write whatever I want to write about on any given weekday/Saturday, and let that be my guide as to the "schedule." So here's the first entry for Year III of this column. You'll get the second entry at some point.]


Ready to Die
The Notorious B.I.G.
1994

I was home for most of Christmas break. "Working" from home, you know how it goes. Key point here being that I was around the family almost every minute of every day. Since I love my family, this was largely a good thing. But it also meant that I had to get creative listening to Ready to Die, a larger-than-life and extremely crude hip hop album. There will come a time when my kids (and my wife, for that matter) are ready to here Biggie Smalls having sex with a woman while she calls him racist insults, but this wasn't the week.

And so I mostly listened to Ready to Die in secret—in those twelve minutes in between one child going back to sleep and the other two waking up, a spare half hour when the kids are in the other room while I'm scarfing lunch down over the sink, that one day when I was sick and couldn't make it to the in-laws' house and I laid on the couch and listened to the album seven times in a row.

And, I don't know, this secrecy kind of felt right. It felt right for me, anyway. It's better than the alternative that I've seen played out in public over the past fifteen years or so—drunk 20-something white girls singing "Big Poppa" at the bar for the benefit of their Instagram stories. That makes me feel uncomfortable for reasons that I don't know if I'm ready to articulate right now, but I know that if I'm going to dive head-first into the rap classics, then I don't want to do it like that.

I want to really get to know this shit. I want to get inside of it. And I need to pay homage to teens of the '90s, who had to get friends' older siblings to buy the Explicit Content Warning albums so that their parents wouldn't know that that's what they were listening to in their bedrooms. Now those same parents are watching Snoop Dogg crip walk at the Super Bowl and saying "lol I love his merlot!" I don't like how the danger has been normalized, because the danger is what makes this experience scintillating and exciting and worth it, in my ignorant and certifiably white opinion.

To put it another way—Ready to Die is cinematic in the same way that the best action movies are cinematic. This is an origins story, which is so hard to nail when you're still living that origin, but B.I.G. seems to have pulled it off. He understood his importance in the rap world from the very first song on the very first album. He more or less predicted his death. There are many deeper levels than this (i.e. how many rappers have pronounced themselves the king only to fall flat; i.e. the systematic failure it is that Biggie had such a high probability of getting gunned down, and knew it), but this is what I hear when I listen to this album and this artist. There are thrills and there are chills.

I understand the appeal of the Notorious B.I.G. from a musical perspective now as well. There is a juxtaposition between what he says and how he says it. Like, he's rapping about violence and struggle and self-destruction, and yet his voice is deep and soothing. There's tension too between the lyricism and the production. There's power and heft in Biggie's voice, which lands hard over the lush, expensive Bad Boys beats and rhythms. All this tension carries for over an hour, and it never really lets up.

I don't know if I can speak competently about rap music yet, but I'm putting myself out there and trying. That whole previous paragraph probably sounds pretty stupid to someone who has been listening to hip hop their entire lives. I'll concede that I have a LOT to learn, and to pretend that I could process my thoughts in any coherent or intelligent way at this point, after really only listening to one pretty easy entry point into the canon, is foolhardy and ignorant.

The goal this year is to refine that process, of consuming rap and being able to process it and write 400 words adequately about it in one blog post. Thanks for bearing witness to the growing pains. But thanks too for being patient with me all these years and years previous, when I didn't even know how to pronounce the word "rap," when I felt uncomfortable getting anywhere near the genre, when I leaned too hard on that fact whenever I was forced to grapple with music criticism for a rap album. That was all very annoying. I'm over that. I've come a long way, but there's still a long way to go.

It was all a dream. Let's make it a reality.



[Editor's note: from now on, I'm just going to embed the whole album on a YouTube playlist at the bottom of these blog posts, instead of picking out three songs randomly. So if you click on the above video, it should automatically bring you to the next song after the first one is finished, and so on.]

Friday, January 6, 2023

These Are Good People, Sam


As a bad Philadelphian and music person in general, I am familiar in name only with Japanese Breakfast. I have walked by her coat room, and have acknowledged Michelle Zauner's existence. However, until reading her memoir and then listening to this early album, I didn't know what she was other than having been described as "ethereal" or "Shoegaze." Those things are generally genres I don't like.

And I still have not listen to Japanese Breakfast, so I do not know what that sounds like. I know what Little Big League this sounds like and I like this. Little Big league captures the era well—little guitar flourishes, tones, and lyrics just off center enough to make you think a bit. 

I'm also very emotionally drawn to this, being about halfway through her very personal memoir about her mother's death. It's sad to think that the person who recorded this album would be forever changed very quickly. Whatever Japanese Breakfast is, the legacy of her mother's death left a huge impression on Zauner. It would be interesting if it was Little Big League instead that had a coat room named after it.

These Are Good People, Sean E.


Before Crying in H Mart was picked for book club, I was unaware of Michelle Zauner and Japanese Breakfast, let alone Little Big League. Having read approximately half of Crying in H Mart thus far, and having listened to a good amount of Japanese Breakfast over the last few weeks, I wish I had been aware of Little Big League when they were together circa 2011-2014. Then again, I was in the Philly area during this time and went to my fair share of local indie shows. Maybe I just missed them, or maybe they are one of the bands I watched that just didn't make an impression. Perhaps I talked to some of the band members after the show and said the generic nice things you say to musicians that you think are good, but not memorable. I suppose I could check my shoebox of ticket stubs to see, but having listened to These Are Good People, I am just not that motivated to dig it out of my closet. Regardless, this was a solid start for Michelle Zauner. She has gone on to bigger and better things and I am thankful for it.

These Are Good People, Sunny


How about those audiobooks, huh? Listening to the sad, hunger inducing, and personal memoir H Mart, read by Japanese Breakfast herself, you form a minor para-social relationship anchored by the timber and frequency of voice.

She mentions Little Big League in the book too, so you make assumptions about what that voice sounds like singing. Obviously These Are Good People is Zauner singing, but it isn't exactly what I expected. It's more "local small band indie." From opener "Lindsey," with the falling melody on top of guitar/drums into vocals, it delivers just that sound. One may hear many similarities with PoYB favorite Hop Along. There are the unique bits though—plenty bit of synth, some dude's vocals, and the shines of something a bit more dreamy/psyche-y taking shape. E.g. take the start of "Sportswriting." It are these latter elements I imagine that begin to bloom into the more cooked Japanese Breakfast outfit in the future. The album is not so resonant to stick around, but it's fun and easy, and right in that sweet spot of 30-35 minutes. And something about the words "Little Big League" is catchy in itself. That's one way to make an earworm.

These Are Good People, Pam


Little Big League's These Are Good People is one of those albums that I've listened to over and over this week and still had a tough time getting a grasp on. I think, basing my assumptions on the dreamy music created by Michelle Zauner's Japanese Breakfast, that I expected something more dancey, poppy, more Sufjan-sounding, more like J-Brekkie. Instead, I would describe the music on These Are Good People as gritty. And, honestly, is there a better compliment you could pay a Philadelphia indie band? It's definitely noisier than expected, but it was cool to hear Zauner really let loose vocally.

"Lindsey" is the song that stuck with me for the week. I'm hoping that's because it's a good song and not because I started the album from the beginning so many times and it literally entered my ears the most! I rarely notice whether guitar playing or drumming is technically good, unless it's absolutely horrible. But that being said, I did like the drums on "Lindsey." I don't know why, but I liked them. I also enjoyed the guitar throughout the album, but I think "Summer Wounds" captured that bouncy guitar sound the best.

The vocals on "Dark Matter" and "Sportswriting" really highlighted what Michelle Zauner can do. She is star. And although my own preferences lie with the more controlled vocals and wistful worlds created by her on Jubilee, the songs on These Are Good People really showcase her range.

If I wasn't a member of the fairer sex, I'd probably already be reading Zauner's Crying in H Mart for Men's Book Club. And now knowing how much I enjoy both her more primitive and evolved indie sound, maybe I'll read her book on my own. We'll see how much more homework Joe K*** assigns me this year (wink).

These Are Good People, Keelan


I enjoyed this album—great to listen to at work, while cleaning, really just a good background sound to break up the quiet. It's also only nine songs, so it went quick!

These Are Good People reminded me of something Kat Stratford would listen to while contemplating teenage life, doing homework, and how to break down the patriarchy while also maybe falling in love (this is a reference to the critically acclaimed movie, and one of my favorites, 10 Things I Hate About You). It has the quiet but strong tension of teenage rebellion, confusion, and complex emotions. Even though my teenage rebellion years have passed, this creates an awakening to the potential for mid-thirties rebellion years and all the possibilities that come with that.

I'm going to give this 6/8 Fender Strats.

These Are Good People, Gary


Back to back Philly based records? Yes, please. 

I just want to talk about the album name for a second. "These Are Good People." It's exactly what you want to hear. Whether you are telling a friend about another group of friends, a family member about your crew, or your significant other about the shady people that you've just invited over. Something about the assurance that this is a good person is all I ever needed to hear. 

This band reminds me of my nephew's band when he was a teenager. I'll never forget how proud I was when they got a gig at the Trocadero. He was the drummer in a three-man band. At this point I've spent way too long trying to remember what their band name was, but they were awesome (for being sixteen). 

Cut to this record. Fantastic. Brought back so many memories of my sixteen-year-old nephew, who is months from becoming a full fledge lawyer, rocking it at the Troc. 

Subtle tones and calming vibes. I could listen to this in the background all day. 

Even though "Never Have I Ever" is absolutely about a past relationship, I can't help thinking about past friendships that have come and gone. 

8 memories out of 10

These Are Good People, Rachel S.


Hm. I sort of feel like this album just washed by, other than a few A24 main character moments here and there. And I hate to do it to a Philly gal. I get the sense that if I saw this band in my mid-20s playing at Boot & Saddle (RIP) or Kungfu Necktie, I'd be like, "wow they're really good, I bet they're gonna make it." But then you buy the album at the show, listen to it at home, and it just doesn't have the same teeth. I don't know enough Japanese Breakfast to really trace this work to that, but I am very glad Michelle Zauner found her spotlight. Even in a middling indie album like this one, it's refreshing to hear someone with a singular voice. Those are rare.

These Are Good People, Joe


These Are Good People is an album that makes a case for starting fresh, which seems like good timing, here in the first week of January. I want to be better. We all do. And the beginning of a new year seems like the perfect opportunity to make promises to ourselves, that can make the changes necessary to complete the transformation into our perfect selves.

Nothing will ever be perfect, though. You won't be perfect. A little curio from the early '10s Philly indie/emo scene won't be perfect. Michelle Zauner isn't perfect. On that last point, she underlines over and over throughout the album. From my vantage point, she's being a little hard on herself, but damn does the self-criticism create some blistering music.

Well, it's that, and the tight attack of a locked-in four-piece band, guitars intertwined, Zauner swaying like a boxer to find the spaces in between for her singular, ethereal voice. I don't even know if she's a "good" singer, but she's the right singer for this context. The music is strong but probably wouldn't be as strong if she wasn't dropping self-burns like "I was all shapes and holes." Likewise, I don't know if Michelle Zauner works as well without the tense but sturdy emo sound behind her (full disclosure: I struggled with J-Brekkie until Jubilee, but maybe finally getting around to Crying in H Mart is going to unlock some stuff in her back catalog for me).

I read an interview with the drummer, Ian Dykstra (also drummer for Titus Andronicus), from around the time that These Are Good People was about to be released. There was some good insight, but in terms of what the lyrics meant, the dude was basically like "I have no idea, you have to ask Michelle." That comment either caused or confirmed a feeling that this is almost two separate artists working together, two different bands, one focused on music, one focused on lyrics. At times, it seems like two separate enterprises squished together. I could see the seams threatening to burst occasionally. I at the same time admired how it could manage to still all hang together.

New year, new me: I'm trying real hard to "get" albums on a deeper level then I would have in years past. It's difficult, because I am a stupid moron who doesn't understand most poetry that I come across. These lyrics are poetry, and I did my best to really get inside of them. Here is what I found.

The song I keep coming back to is "Dark Matter." It's never outright stated, but it seems to be about a young friend or loved one who passed away after a short battle with a disease of some sort. It wasn't sudden, because she has time to "contemplate the infinite," but it was quick enough that the "something dark" had "rushed" its way into this person. I'm thinking that the contemplation of the infinite is a projection, that it is those left behind who are doing the contemplating on that subject, that...

That maybe there is a tendency within us to focus on stupid, pointless shit. Something like what somebody said one time that hurt us ("For the love of god, someone get this girl to shut up"), getting too drunk and getting too personal ("Never have you ever looked your father straight in the eye"), how some people come in and out of your life ("water flows fresh to brackish then to salt into seas"). I don't think it's wrong that Zauner is singing so much about a clearly failing relationship, but note how outdated these emotions probably feel to her only a decade later. Time adds perspective, and that perspective changes everything, but it's so hard to remember that when you're in the moment, feeling all the stupid emotions that you'll one day regret.

I look back at some of the things I wrote five, ten, fifteen years ago, and I feel extremely uncomfortable. I seem like a completely different person. I look toward the future too; I try to envision myself, a better person, a better family man, a better writer, possibly 40 pounds lighter, possibly less shackled by social drinking, all that shit that goes through my mind at this time of year. The past, the future. Not much on the present, which is the most important thing, the thing we all forget about all too easily.

So when I say that I hear These Are Good People and I say that it sounds like the need to "start fresh," I don't mean that as a criticism. It is painful to listen to sometimes, emotionally speaking, but there's value in that discomfort. This is how it was. This is how I want it to be. And we're all just looking to start over, from right now, and live right here, in this moment. Thanks for the reminder.

GRADE: 3 pukes out of 5

Thursday, January 5, 2023

Album Review: Ice, Death, Planet, Lungs, Mushrooms and Lava

My family decided this year for Christmas to do a Secret Santa instead of everyone buying gifts for everyone else. We could write wish lists. On my wish list, I requested that my Secret Santa write an album review. As it turns out, literally the only person in my bio-family who would ever take me up on this specific offer, my sister Brianna, ended up being my Secret Santa.

I'm really excited to share her review of King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard's 2022 album (well, one of their 2022 albums) with you today. I'm excited, not only because I think it's well-written, and not only because I love when friends and family write, and not only because maybe this will be the motivation Brianna needs to rejoin Record Club.

I'm excited because this review proved to me personally the power that music reviews have, even when they are written for a shitty no-name blog such as Puke on Your Birthday. I'll be honest, I would have never listened to another King Gizz album for the rest of my life, and I would have been content with that decision, but Brianna's review convinced me otherwise, and now, I agree—this is a good album. And that exploration and discovery and appreciation would have never happened if Brianna hadn't taken the time to write a review. There is value in expressing your feelings in words! There is power in writing a review!


From an old standby to a recent favorite, it's safe to say my taste in music had been solidified by the time Gizztober 2022 rolled around. And what a Gizztober it was.

Before we get there, I should probably take you back in time a few years. King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard had been on my radar for a while, through the acclaims of friends and coworkers over the years, but if you know this band, then you know it can be hard to figure out where to start. A daunting task, I put it off until 2020 when they appeared on the Bonnaroo lineup. Even then, I hadn't really scratched the surface on exactly what this band was when the pandemic hit and all dreams of the Farm that year disappeared. Long story short, four additional opportunities to see this strange collection of musicians came and went without fruition. The upside? In preparation for each of these opportunities, I had dipped my toes deeper and deeper into the 20-plus-album discography. By the time Gizztober came, I was in DEEP.

In case you didn't know, Gizztober 2022 was a special time for fans. After being blessed with the genre-bending Omnium Gatherum (please go listen to "The Dripping Tap," it's one of my favorite songs ever) earlier in the year, the boys promised to drop four more... in October alone. Not to mention, pending natural disasters and global pandemics to come, I was set to finally see them live at the Electric Factory. Needless to say, the hype was real.

IDPLM&L was by leaps and bounds the strongest of the bunch, and for me, right now, stands in the top three of my favorite albums of all time. It's the jammiest of their many albums, which doesn't exactly make for easy listening, but sure is fun. And even with "jam" at its center, many of the tracks differ in style and general vibe. The styles that resonated with me the most include the almost folksy and light-feeling instrumental piece at the tail-end of "Mycelium," the jazzy-dancey hybrid grooves of "Ice V" (which live at the Factory was one for the highlight reel), and the microtonal magic they've become so known for these days in "Magma" and "Iron Lung." Each song takes you on a journey, never quite leading you where you think it will, but ending up in a spot that just feels right.

Reflecting on my biases, I realize this one may not be for everyone. Maybe the chorus of "Mycelium" is a little too fluffy for you, maybe singing along with lyrics about scratching into your subcutaneous fat during "Hell's Itch" makes you uncomfortable, or maybe, just maybe, you can't dig a sweet flute solo. I get it, these guys are weird. But sometimes, letting go and getting weird with it leads to some of the best things in life. Ice, Death, Planet, Lungs, Mushrooms and Lava is one of those things. I hope you can let loose and enjoy.

Wednesday, January 4, 2023

Never Seen It, #99 of 200: Major League

I have a list of 200 movies that I've never seen before, and I guess there's only one thing left to do: watch the whole fucking thing.


Major League
1989
David S. Ward

Major League was an easy film to love. Sure, it's flawed, and we'll touch briefly on some of those flaws, but man, did I have fun watching this stupid little movie. In essence, that's what being an underdog is all about, right? There are flaws, so many flaws that you don't expect any success, and yet this scrappy underdog grabs that success anyway, against all odds. Major League was about underdogs, but it also was itself an underdog, at least as far as my expectations went.

Let's acknowledge the fact that this has a lot to do with the fact that it's specifically a movie about baseball. Well, maybe not about baseball, but certainly featuring baseball. Either way, I love baseball, so I'm going to love a baseball movie. Here, the plot is kind of like The Producers—the new owner of the Cleveland Indians wants to tank the team and move to Miami, but the scrubs that she hires end up doing much better than expected. So the film follows a group of these loveable weirdos as they improve throughout the season and find their groove and capture the attention of a city that hadn't tasted sports success in decades. 

I think Major League gets to the heart of what makes sports so fun to watch at certain times. Sure, it's fun to win, but that's only half of it. The other half is when the winners are people who are just like you. Ya know, losers. Losers who win. That was the whole thing with the 2017-18 Eagles, right? They were self-professed underdogs, representing a city full of underdogs. The oddsmakers expected them to lose every game, and yet they continued to win. Everyone expects Philadelphia to lose, and yet we persevere. Felt good to see our values reflected in a colorful group of overachievers.

So because this idea constituted the majority of the film, I'll call it a success. There were also some smaller parts of the movie that seemed like decisions made by suits in a boardroom somewhere. Like, I can picture David S. Ward being told that he isn't getting funding for his dumb baseball movie unless he injects some romance into it, and so a stupid fucking subplot involving broken-down catcher Jake Taylor (Tom Berenger) pursuing his ex-girlfriend. It's a completely unnecessary diversion from the baseball stuff, and honestly, it's aged like milk. Jake is a straight-up stalker who puts undue on an engaged woman to sleep with him. So not only is it unnecessary, but it's actively detrimental to the quality of the film.

There's other stuff, like a couple hokey slow ballads that don't fit the tone of the film (though I guess it was funny hearing Randy Newman sing one of his dopey ballads in a sort of ironic way). It still just felt like misguided executive notes, like, "every profitable movie has a big ballad, add one plz!!!!" And then there was the other other stuff, like the All State Insurance guy playing a "voodoo" character that felt like a racist caricature in 2022, but vaguely racist in a way that perhaps isn't worth diving into for today (though I'd be happy to discuss if you feel like I should).

I won't say that Major League is a great movie despite these flaws. The flaws are baked into what make Major League what it is. I think that this was a fun film, though, even when considering the big picture. The laughs were big (pretty much anything the announcer says), the plot holes were forgivable (attendance figures seemed important at the beginning, but then were completely forgotten about), and the flaws are sort of eyeroll-worthy funny in a post-1980s ironic way (that they played the whole "you were served a paternity suit at the surprise party you never showed up to" monologue COMPLETELY STRAIGHT is kind of insane, and hilarious).

But most importantly, this film is a crucial addition to the pantheon of underdog sports films. That's the main reason why Major League endures, and it's the main reason I'll stake a claim saying that I liked it. There will probably never be another important sporting event in my life when I don't think to myself beforehand: "Well, I guess there's only one thing left to do—win the whole fucking thing."

GRADE: 3.5 pukes out of 5

NEXT TIME: I love when we violently shift gears from movie to movie in this column. I've never seen the next one, but I can imagine that it's going to be very interesting moving from Major League to Malcolm X. Let's see.

Tuesday, January 3, 2023

Phony Beatlemania: "A Day in the Life"


"A Day in the Life"
from Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
1967

Welcome to Phony Beatlemania, a new and semi-frequent blog column in which I will go through the list of the so-called "100 Best Beatles Songs," as presented by the book I received as a birthday gift from my father-in-law entitled 100 Best Beatles Songs: A Passionate Fan's Guide. I have attached a PDF version of the book HERE (and will begin each column entry with that link, in case you want to read along).

The authors are not kidding when they say that they are "passionate fans." These guys (Stephen J. Spignesi and Michael Lewis) have a lot to say about their favorite band, and it's all positive. They worship the Beatles.

And hey, man, I don't blame them! I want to make this clear from the very beginning of this hopefully short journey—I love the Beatles too. Sincerely. Sgt. Pepper's was my very first "serious" album. Listening to that album started a whole lifetime of musical discovery. That lifetime has included discovering all the good Beatles shit, and very little bad Beatles shit. I acknowledge their place atop the pantheon of rock 'n' roll, and I believe that place is well-earned.

But I do also think that untethered fanboyism does not equate to music criticism, and consequentially, I find the worship of the Beatles as a bit boring. Looking at something with a critical eye is more fun—yes, even for the Beatles, who were perfect in every way. I bring this up because of course I'm going to have some negative things to say about the Beatles in this column. That's the way I operate because it's fair and honest. There will be no room for sucking Beatles cock here.

I just don't want this to seem like I am writing all these thousands of words about the Beatles because I hate them, even though sometimes I go a little too far with the sarcasm or whatever. I'm being tough because the bar is high. I also feel like I'm going to be bashing Spignesi and Lewis a decent amount, but let's make that distinction clear; it can be simultaneous true that the authors of the book are wrong and the authors of the song are right. In other words, the "what" is universally agreed upon, but the "why" is argued profusely.

So let us begin with the authors' chosen #1 Beatles song of all time (since they have designed the book to go from best to 100th best), "A Day in the Life," which, if you are reading along, is found on pages 23 through 31 of the PDF version (I will henceforth post this information at the top of the blog post, not in the body). Let's try to describe three basic responses in this column: 1) my reaction to the song, 2) my reaction to the authors' reaction, and 3) my reaction to the ranking. (Those reactions will not necessarily be in that order, but at the end of each blog post, I'll make sure that I've made all three reactions clear.)

One thing that annoys me already about this book is that the authors attempt to separate the song from its context. It's not that they ignore the context, but more so that they describe the context, and then dismiss its importance. For instance, "A Day in the Life" is described as being the pivotal concluding song of a pivotal concluding album of an entire era ("the '60s"), but then the argument is made that the song would be #1 even if it was, say, Track 4 on Magical Mystery Tour. That's not even remotely fucking true! 

Look, I'm defending its importance here. I told you above that Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band is one of the most important, if not the most important, album of my entire life, and "A Day in the Life" does a lot to cement that legacy. There is real heft here. There are real stakes. As the authors put it, there is "power" and "drama." It makes the album feel like a cohesive piece of work—the keyword being feel, because even if the "concept" of the album is strung together haphazardly, it still feels like an epic whole, all because of the conclusion that lifts the whole thing up.

If you separated it from that context, then there's no way it would be better than, like, #50 at best. It's a good song—good compared to other Beatles songs, fucking incredible compared to most other music that has existed over the course of human history—but it's not a best-all-time song. I feel this way because I'd argue that "A Day in the Life" lacks a strong chorus.

There is a hook or two. "I read the news today, oh boy" never leaves your head once it enters. "I'd love to turn you on..." is catchy in a very dreamy way. The infamous A-B-A plot structure provides a crucial gear shift. Ringo's drumming is fucking spot-on and sneakily creative, as always. It feels big and broad but that is at the expense of anything being laser-focused. It's big and broad and epic, yes, but also messy and chaotic. These can be good things too. But if we're talking about the best fucking Beatles song of all time, then it needs to be everything. It needs to have everything a great song has. A great song has a chorus packed like a fucking punch that can wallop you in any context. "A Day in the Life" does not have this. These are the facts!

I acknowledge that the beautiful, artful, existential lyrics might be enough for a certain class of people, that they feel so large that "A Day in the Life" cannot be denied. That's fair. I've never been one to slobber over lyrics, and I've long ago decided that this is because I'm too dumb to understand them. That issue might not be as much of a concern in a weekly Beatles column, since the minutiae of every single Beatles song has been hashed and rehashed my entire lifetime, and I know many of the backstories like the back of my hand.

For instance, I know that the (as the authors put it here) "eerie landscape of abstract, existential terror" is basically just stories ripped from British headlines by John Lennon. I agree that they do a great job of expressing the fear and terror borne in every generation, perhaps especially the young folk in the 1960s, but I don't think that the lyrics are so fucking poignant that we should forgive any other shortcoming. C'mon, at least some of this is Lennon smoking pot and being abnormally intrigued by a story about a bunch of holes in the goddamn ground.

One thing I do appreciate about this song is how the dividing line is so clearly marked between Lennon and McCartney. Everyone, including Lennon and McCartney themselves, liked to pretend that the music of the Beatles was a cooperative effort, with all-hands-on-deck to achieve the full spirit of the Fab Four. But despite the songwriting credits of the majority of the songs paid to "Lennon/McCartney," it was just simply not true. There are Paul songs, and there are John songs. "A Day in the Life" just happens to be a Paul song wrapped inside of a John song. And so it really shows us the dichotomy there—namely, John's hippie trippy bullshit versus Paul's faux-working-class pop basics. I really like that we get to observe the inner biology of this song just simply by listening to it.

The authors note this to be one of the reasons they like the song too, despite their supposed aversion to context. They like how it was "collaborative." I mean, shit, c'mon, that's like saying that Fleetwood Mac's "The Chain" was collaborative. Just because every hand touched it at some point doesn't mean the process was collaborative. And also, the book even notes that George had nothing to do with this song at all! He might have not even played a single fucking instrument during the recording! How's that for collaborative?

Okay, but you can see where I'm going with all this. The basic tenets, at least in these first few dozen weeks (when the higher-rated songs will tend to be, in my opinion, overrated, just based on the laws of probability) will tend to be as follows: I think a Beatles song is really fucking good but certainly not as good as the authors purport it to be; I nitpick the arguments as presented by the authors, but still ultimately concede that they are correct in this song being a very good song.

Totally off the top of my head, I'd say that "A Day in the Life" has a good chance at reaching as high as #45 on my own personal list of Best Beatles Songs. Maybe I'll sit down and make that list once this column is over sometime in the next year or two (I haven't decided as of this writing whether it's going to be weekly or semi-weekly or a mixture of the two or what).

I promise you two things as we move forward. First, I promise that the other 99 entries in this column won't be as long (I'm mainly promising myself here, because I don't want to commit to anything unsustainable). Second, I promise that I want to hear your opinions on this song. Any Beatles fans out there want to jump in the comments and tell me what they think about "A Day in the Life"? Look, I get it—it's sad to ask for people to do the whole "like, subscribe, and comment!" thing for a blog post, but this is the Beatles, and I'm making an exception. What do you think about this song? You must think something. This is the fucking Beatles! Everyone likes them! Everyone has an opinion!

Monday, January 2, 2023

Song of the Week: "Like a Stone"

Check out the other songs of the week HERE.


"Like a Stone"
Audioslave
from Audioslave
2002

There was probably no real reason to end my year listening to a lot of Audioslave. Maybe I was feeling nostalgic, I dunno. It had been exactly 20 years since I bothered a former-ish friend for a whole semester about burning me a copy of the self-titled debut from a band I had already added to the pencil case. He strung me along with excuses about his dad's work computer being the only technology in the house with CD-writing capabilities. I also felt kind of weird because we had been really good friends in like third and fourth and fifth grades, and now all of a sudden we were growing apart, and this felt like some last-ditch effort to salvage a tenuous relationship.

He eventually made good on the promise, and I had my hands on a copy of what considered at the time to be the crème de la crème of rock music. I spun that thing constantly in my Sony Discman. It colored that final year of my elementary school experience, so much so that I deigned to name Audioslave my favorite band, as documented in the supplementary yearbook. It's weird, though, because by freshman year of high school, I had completely forgotten about it. Until now, I guess. I listen to this album in 2023, and I can picture the hastily-scribbled tracklist of that mix CD, and I can smell the distinct chalkiness of the Pres B.V.M. hallways, now decades later.

FIRST RULE: Music is great when it's tied to a personal time and place.

I'll concede that much of this album is perilously adjacent to butt rock, if not fully submerged in it. It's got this sort of machismo that feels sometimes like a front, ya know? Like they are trying to act tougher than they actually are. Or maybe that's just projection—I wouldn't make those same accusations against Rage Against the Machine or Soundgarden. And yet here we are, Soundgarden's Chris Cornell fronting Rage Against the Machine instead of Zack de la Rosa. Pretty much. I mean, that's literally what it sounds like to, the aggressive, rhythm-heavy stomp of RAtM with the wide range found on shit like "Black Hole Sun."

I sound like I know what I'm talking about, but I really don't. As simple as Audioslave may sound at times, there are other moments when I'm sincerely perplexed. I'm talking mainly about the guitar sounds, as played by Tom Morello. Take the solo on "Like a Stone," how it feels like three different guitars being played one after another, all with different sounds and textures. Or like the bizarre alien-like sounds on "Bring 'Em Back Alive." I didn't even know a guitar could do that.

The simplest reason here is that I'm a drummer. You give me a complex drum pattern, and I'm feasting. A complex guitar part, though, and I'm left in the dark. I have legitimately no idea whether Tom Morello's guitar playing on this album is phenomenal or hacky. It could be both! But it doesn't really matter to me what a guitar player might think of this. It only matters what I think, and to me, this is interesting and mysterious. I'm just basking in the unknown.

SECOND RULE: Music is great when you accept that you'll never know everything.

Here I am, thinking that I'm rediscovering some lost classic, like I'm the only guy on fucking earth still listening to this 2002 album by a band who cannot possibly exist in 2023 (since the lead singer passed away). I knew this band had a life outside of my own head—there were subsequent albums that apparently sounded less like a RAtM x Soundgarden hybrid and more like something unique—but as far as I was concerned, what mattered was in here. I was ready to take charge in the critical reevaluation of this once-important radio rock band.

But then there I was, a couple days after I began listening to Audioslave again after a 20-year hiatus, and I'm driving home the pizza parlor with our Friday dinner, and I'm flipping through stations, and all of a sudden, on WMMR, I hear a gruff voice singing "Pearls and swine..." and I'm like, oh damn this sounds familiar. Then it hit me. Yup, they are still playing "I Am the Highway," in 2022, and probably 2023, and probably forever. The world of music doesn't need me to reevaluate anything. It's always been there, at least in some corner of the grand music-listening world.

THIRD RULE: Music is great when you acknowledge its scope and infiniteness.

These are the three rules I try to live my life by, at least when it comes to music and how I consume it and how I translate it in this soupy brain of mine. I remember that I am a speck on the surface of the musical universe, I remember that music is unknowable, and I remember that music is important because it means something to me. And that last part, the "me," that's the royal "me," and that's where the writing comes in. It means something to me, and it means something to you, and those two meanings could be completely different.

What a fucking joy that is, to find meaning, or to find meanings, and to share them with each other.

Your Guide to Choosing an Album for Record Club


(Updated 08/27/2026)

Glad to hear that you'd like to choose an album for us to listen to in Record Club. Here's what you have to know.

ELIGIBILITY

There are not too many restrictions here, since we are an inclusive group and we want you to participate at your leisure. However, to make things fair and balanced, one of the following must be true for you to be eligible to choose an album:
  • You have never chosen an album before
  • You have not chosen an album in the last eighteen (18) months
  • You have written four reviews since the last time you chose an album
  • You are writing regularly on the blog in other ways (Song Challenge, a weekly feature)
In addition, you must be in "good standing" with RC, which basically means that, when you picked an album last time, you wrote a review for that album. It's only ever happened a handful of times, and if this affects you, and you choose a new album, I'll basically just ask you to write the review for that previous album first.

Any questions about any of this, hit me up! 99% chance you are eligible to pick an album right now! Do it!

THE BASICS

There's not really much to it. I'll ask you to choose an album every once in a while, and if you are interested, you can send your ideas. Or maybe, out of the blue, you think of a good album that you'd like to submit, it doesn't matter when, just go ahead and send me an email. Hit me up whenever you want. Operators are standing by.

GENERAL THOUGHTS

I've never though that an album choice has to be a "statement." I.e., I don't think the album you choose has to say anything about you. It can if you want, but there's no shame in just picking something random. I feel like a lot of people choose albums that mean a whole lot to them (some have even been "favorite album ever"!!). That's fine, but then that comes with the residual pressure of "I hope that my peers also like this album that I really like!" It might not be necessary to feel that way. It might even be actively harmful. Use caution when choosing a known entity.

In my mind, once you pick the album, then the playing field is leveled. You become a reviewer just like everyone else. Relax and have fun with it.

THE RULES

Updated pretty regularly as we move along and adjust.
  1. The album must be classified as an LP. EPs are fine now too, but maybe let's limit them to four per calendar year.
  2. The album must be a studio album, meaning that it was recorded in a studio, i.e. not a live album. (One exception: if at least two-thirds of the songs on a live album are original and have never appeared on any of the artist's previous studio albums.)
  3. The album must be considered a complete work of art, i.e. not a compilation or Greatest Hits.
  4. No soundtracks. (Unless the album is completely composed by and performed by a single artist, and clearly also functions as a standalone piece of art.)
  5. The album must be shorter than 80 minutes.
  6. The album cannot be from an artist that we already covered in Record Club.
  7. The album cannot be the focus of a blog post on PoYB already (though just a mention or a blurb about the album is not necessarily disqualifying). This includes:
    A. Record Club (obviously)
    B. The Albums That Matter
    C. A Year of Blind Spots
    D. Any other regular column (like Epimemeology)
    E. Non-Record Club reviews for albums (e.g. this one)
    F. Any other miscellaneous blog post that focuses solely on any particular album
  8. The album cannot have three or more of its songs already spotlighted throughout any combination of:
    A. Yearlong Song Challenge
    B. Summer Song Challenge
    C. Song of the ___
    D. Any Top Songs of the Year list from any Year in Review post
    E. OR: Any two songs from these options, plus a significant mention of the album in any blog post or blurb
  9. The album can't be a "deluxe edition" or anything similar, i.e. we don't do bonus tracks in Record Club.
  10. No "partial albums," e.g. only Disc 2 of a double LP or something like that. 
  11. Albums comprised of a lot of cover songs are fine, as long as it's a legitimate studio album by a single artist, and not a compilation
  12. "Mixtapes" are fine, as long as they adhere to the other rules.
  13. Comedy albums are technically fine but the hope is that it would involve music over most or all of the album, and not just standup routines.
  14. No Christmas albums except for the last full week before Christmas.
  15. No Beatles albums until Week 500 (we should include Beatles solo albums in this rule as well).
  16. We have to be able to listen to it somehow. It doesn't have to be on Spotify or whatever, but it does have to be available in some form. If it's not streaming anywhere, we can make mp3 copies available via Google Drive, but just make sure that's known at the time of your choosing the album.
  17. It's not technically against the rules to choose an artist whom some people choose to no longer listen to based on history of sex abuse or racism or etc., but PoYB asks that you allow room for at least some grace in choosing these artists, knowing that there will be some reviewers (including EiC) who will refuse to review such artists.
No need to know these rules like the back of your hand. I have no qualms about telling you that your choice breaks a rule, and to pick another. And there have been plenty of albums that have broken one of these rules, so feel free to appeal the decision.

THE FRIDAY DISCUSSION

Every Friday morning, right after the reviews are published, I'll post a separate thread where you can write some comments about the album, the reviews, or life in general.

I used to send out an exit survey, but there was a low response rate for that. Still, if you chose the album, and you'd like to share you thoughts about your Record Club experience, feel free to answer any or all of these questions in the Friday morning comment section!

1. Were you happy with the reviews that were published? How do you feel about your week as Record Club captain?

2. How was the variety of opinions? A wide range, kinda samey, or somewhere in the middle?

3. Were there any differing opinions that made you view the album in a different light?

4. Was there anything about this album or this artist that you wished that people would've written about more?

5. How do you feel about your album choice now that the week is over? A success? Any regrets?

6. Any other takeaways from the reviews? Or from this experience in general?

7. What is an improvement that Record Club can make that would enhance everyone's experience, either as a captain or as a listener/writer?

IMPROVEMENTS

If there is anything about this process that you think could be improved, let me know! Thanks for being part of Record Club!

Sunday, January 1, 2023

Album of the Week: These Are Good People

Welcome to the new and improved Record Club! Not only do things look different around here, but things are going to function slightly different as well. Tomorrow, you're going to receive an email asking you if you'd like to pick an album. That's the only correspondence you'll receive about it. There will be no limitations as to who can pick an album. First come first serve (for the most part—details TBD). Let's test out whether that gets more people involved, or fewer. Hopefully the former.

Anyways, happy New Year's everybody! Perhaps some of you are here to achieve your New Year's resolution of writing more. It's a sincerely good idea! I'm really excited for you! Check out this week's album, and then put the figurative pen to the figurative paper. It's gonna be a good year, y'all.

Record Club:

WEEK 205 — January 1-7, 2023


There Are Good People
by Little Big League

LISTEN:

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PICKED BY JOE

JOE'S COMMENTS: "Besides Japanese Breakfast being some good shit, I got a book club coming up where we're reading Crying in H Mart, so I wanted to explore some of Zauner's work prior to her main project. Also, Philly indie rock is usually reliable. Also also, the phrase 'these are good people' felt like a good description of Record Club to start us off in the new year."

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ALBUM DETAILS

GENRE: indie rock, emo, punk

RELEASED: August 6, 2013

LENGTH: 33:00

TRACKLIST:
  1. Lindsey
  2. My Very Own You
  3. Dark Matter
  4. Summer Wounds
  5. Brackish Water
  6. Sportswriting
  7. Settlers
  8. Tokyo Drift
  9. Never Have I Ever Walked Away When the Time Was Right
LYRICS: Genius.com

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ARTIST DETAILS

ABOUT: An indie rock band from Philly. Active from 2011-2014. Fronted by Michelle Zauner, now best known for her work as Japanese Breakfast. Little Big League went on hiatus in 2014, when Zauner's mom was diagnosed with cancer, and she had to move back home (read about this time period in her critically acclaimed memoir Crying in H Mart). The band got back together for a bit in 2016, but then Japanese Breakfast started to blow up, so they called it for good.

DISCOGRAPHY: This is their first of two LPs, after a 2012 self-titled EP. Their second and final LP, Tropical Jinx, was released in 2014.

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ADDITIONAL INFO

READING SOME SHIT: New Noise Magazine, 2013

WATCHING SOME SHIT: a music video for "My Very Own You"

PREVIOUSLY ON RECORD CLUB: These Are Good People was produced and mixed by a dude named Craig Hendrix. He would later become a member of Japanese Breakfast. In this interview, he talks about headlining tours where the openers were Mannequin Pussy, and then later, Snail Mail.

Little Big League also adds to our pantheon of sports-related music titles in Record Club. Previously, we've had Fastball, Free Throw, Johnny Football Hero, last week's A Philly Special Christmas, and I dunno, maybe Kick? (Bad news, though: Michelle Zauner threw out the first pitch for the Mets.) Also, this isn't the first "League," since we listened to Philly brethren Stereo League. 

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Happy listening, RC family!
Have a great week!