When There’s No Other Choice but to Believe
I have been perhaps the most lax blogger in the short history of blogging. Blogging can sometimes appear analogous to the whole ‘If a Tree Fell in a Forest” and no one was present to witness; what does it all mean anyway? Then again, writing a blog for anything other than the pleasure of writing, might be delusional - unless of course one has made some serious connections and inroads in a post-Pitchfork impacted field, meaning advertising dollars and promo CDs. Of course these things usually happen because of hard work on the blog creator’s part not out of crazy luck.
I think what might be the most interesting thing to note is that the blogs may be our only hope for the truly legit, meaningful Rock and Roll Critique. Recently I happened to page through, reading chunks of Lester Bangs’ Psychotic Reactoins and Carbuerator Dung and Mainlines, Blood Feasts, and Bad Taste. I have read these collections of Bangs’ musings several times, but this was the first time I really l had a revelation as to the sorry state of music criticism. What made Bangs’ voice as loud as, and sometimes louder than the music he wrote of, was that he was able to inject all of his sentences, paragraphs, and pages with a wicked imagination that was an art all to itself. Instead of the ’straight’ review, he connected the songs and albums he cared for to the world at large and other accomplishments in the literary and art worlds.
Let me back up here. To clarify my point, one may read Spin and check the album reviews at the back of the magazine. A year ago, Spin had boasted of expanding its review section. While that may have been true, the quality of the reviews now suffer The paragraph blurbs work as clumsy advertisement, sometimes remaining indistinct as to whether or not its author even liked the music. Furthermore, these reviews are so brief that they leave little room for the personality and pulse of the author. As an apt comparison, Pitchfork’s featured daily music reviews spend much time communicating to readers as to why a certain album will change the listener’s life, or forever be relegated to the .99 cent bin of used music stores. When consumerism becomes the legislative guide over art - even the art of critique will suffer.
If you have yet to pick up any of Bangs’ collections, make it a priority. It might be impossible to find a critic whose love of music pushed him or her to the hilarious, and compelling extremes that Lester Bangs’ writing encompassed. His legendary love/hate critic/artist relationship with Lou Reed is legend.
Sam’s the Man
So - finding a reason to write, a reason to care. . . I will tell you what made me care these last couple months of 2009 and our young 2010. On October 8th our son Sam Archer was born, and thus filling our household with the most beautiful sounds a person could wish for; between his newborn baby cooing (and grunting) and his older brother’s ever increasing volume with voice, laughing, and wild energy. There is simply no greater adventure in life than witnessing the growing and ever expanding lives of your children.
A Kingdom Lost, A Kingdom Found
The end of October saw the return of NBA Basketball and my Sacramento Kings. The last few years had been depressing with the revolving door of coaches - Adelman (should not have been let go - ask Houston!), Eric Musselman (could not relate to the players), Reggie Theus (a good coach that deserved time when his team was not decimated by injuries to prove his mettle), and interim coach upon Theus’ firing, Kenny Natt (why did he keep Diogu on the bench!). Enter Paul Westphal - whom was not my choice, as I was pretty sure Kurt Rambis was the guy. I was happy to be proven wrong almost immediately. Besides the fact that Westphal was a great hire, General Manager Geoff Petrie once again donned the genius hat and drafted Jon Brockman, Omri Casspi (pictured above - and Israel’s first NBA player), but most importantly chose Tyreke Evans of Memphis with the number four pick. Behind the inspiring leadership of rookie Evans, The Kings began the year as an exciting, enthused bunch that were fun to watch and reminded the viewer of watching the Kings when Webber and Vlade commanded the court. The Kings were competitive against everybody; beating teams with better records, and taking the Lakers (twice!) and Cavaliers to the wire before losing. They did all this of course, without whom some would call their best player, Kevin Martin, now 11 games into his return from injury, has proved ineffective. Once considered a franchise player, Martin is thought by some to be on the trading block.
That’s Beautiful!
Being a Kings fan, I thought automatically made one a Grant Napear fan. Or maybe that was just me. Behind Doug Christie, I declared my favorite member of the Kings was announcer Grant Napear. I have always enjoyed his play-by-play for the Kings in that the man is knowledgeable and unafraid to call it like he sees it. His speaking voice is sharp, intelligent, and one I thought that author James Ellroy would admire in the ‘musicality’ it possesses. His demeanor, wit, and tone seem to derive much from his New York City roots. Napear does not suffer fools easily. His afternoon radio show on Sacramento’s KTHK Sports Radio often finds callers fumbling for words as Napear verbally eviscerates them for their stupidity (usually deserved) and most importantly, my entertainment. While that may make me a sadist, I don’t think I will be calling soon to give myself up to the sword of righteousness. I love what Grant Napear does, and like Lester Bangs, but his world being that of Sports - here is a man, that is simply the best in his field. Napear!
Begin Again 2010
2010 is already revealing itself a great year in music . . . Spoon’s Transference is an unpredictable sideways move from Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga proving as fun as anything the band has done. Future months hold releases from Quasi, Frightened Rabbit, The Strange Boys, Liars, Ted Leo, and the National to name a few . . .A few of my discoveries in this young year include bands whom drew attention in 2009 and will no doubt draw more in the coming year.
The Mantles - I don’t know much here, except they come from San Francisco and carry the garage rock tag. “Don’t Lie” is perhaps the jangliest thing I have heard since early R.E.M. - Imagine if the Hindu Love Gods were actually GOOD - and you have The Mantles
Grass Widow - Kill Rock Stars Employees gave this band much recognition in their year end lists, so I had to check them out. Like the Mantles, Grass Widow is from S.F..This trio of women employ folk rock harmonies with driving, reverb heavy guitars. No other band sounds like GW - and truly, every song I have heard thus far, has been pure magic.
Beach Fossils - One guy from NYC whom seems to be a part of the Woodsist Records scene (He released a 7″ through the label). Whether an impending full length goes through Woodsist remains to be seen. Beach Fossils reminds of so many other bands and yet retains its own sound. Think lo-fi jangle cousins of Radio Dept. and East River Pipe. As of now, BF is a charming little secret that is too good to remain under the radar.
The Soft Pack - It’s easy to get hung up on the whole, “They should never have changed their name!” thing - okay, they did it - They are not called The Muslims any longer . . .The players - the song remains the same. The band released its debut full length on Kemado on February 2nd. The Soft Pack occupies the strange limbo land between The Black Lips and The Replacements. The simple word = great songs, great band.
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