Walk around Los Angeles over the weekend and you would find an inordinate amount of Kobe Bryant jerseys. Its obvious many of the people are wearing them in support of the Lakers playing in the Finals but what isn't so obvious is why they chose to wear Bryant's jersey over many other more likable Laker's jerseys. Magic, Worthy, Divac, West, Baylor, Van Exel, AC Green, Karl Malone, Mark Madsen, Irwin M Fletcher or even Kurt Rambis. I'd even settle for someone slicking their hair back with Riley Grease of donning some of Jack's amber tinted sunglasses. So why does the majority chose a Kobe jersey over anyone else? Its because he is the best. The debate about whether or not he is the best player in the league is still open, but he is clearly the best player on the Lakers even though he is the least likable. Pau-bacca gives him a run for his money at times, but those are few and far between.
Come with me for a moment as we shift away from the hardwood and put on the headphones. The reason I'd like to explore the topic of best vs favorite isn't another ridiculous Kobe Bryant debate. It has to do with music. Specifically Josh Ritter.
The best song on the newest Josh Ritter album, So Runs The World Away, is undoubtedly The Curse. The lyrics show an acute attention to detail and are constantly folding back on themselves making the song deep and rich. The waltz piano places the story in a time where people who fell in love had a penchant for dancing. The story is unique, unforgettable and timeless. Everything about the song elevates it above the other songs on the album. Yet its not my favorite song, and maybe not even top 3 on that album. (Lantern, Change of Time and Folk Bloodbath are its fiercest competition) So why don't I like the best song on the album? Its nothing personal nor is it a personality trait where I have the undying need to always dislike the best. The Curse just doesn't connect with me like the other aforementioned songs. I can clearly see why it is the best song, but that isn't enough for me. Just like knowing who the best player is doesn't make me join his leagues of fans.
I'm not comparing The Curse to Kobe Bryant. I would never do that to anyone or anything since Kobe has no equal when it comes to loathsomeness. But its an easy, relatable example and I had to tie this back into the NBA Finals somehow. We are a music/sports blog after all and have failed to mention even once that the Lakers and Celtics are playing for all the marbles.
The thing about wearing the best player's jersey or even rooting for the best player, is that often it is the easiest. Its the easiest jersey to find, you know more about that player than any other, you are force fed their highlight reels. This is not always the case with the best songs, unless you stick to top 40 radio. This is also not the case with The Curse. Nobody is making it any easier or harder to like it. It comes down to my own personal choice and preference. It comes down to me choosing my favorites instead of making the best a part of them, and not confusing them.
Clearly this is an issue throughout sports and music. Just look at all the people on the Rajon Rondo bandwagon now. Not that he hasn't had some great moments in the playoffs but are we really forgetting about Deron Williams, Chris Paul, Derrick Rose, Russell Westbrook, Tony Parker, Steve Nash and Derek Fisher that quickly? (one of those is a joke...I'll let you decide) There is no way any of those guys no show in game 1 the way Rondo did. I do think Rondo was one of the funnest games in the NBA and i prefer watching him over a lot of those other guards, but in no way do I think he is the absolute best.
I'm going to start using the word favorite a little bit more and the word best a lot less, and I hope you do too.
Showing posts with label Kurt Rambis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kurt Rambis. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Megafaun Box Score
I decided to take a blind stab at what's become Charlie T's trademark here: the album box score review. It took me forever and I still have a lot of kinks to iron out as much in the layout as the approach, but it was very nearly enjoyable and I gained a new respect for Charlie T.
I picked Megafaun's Gather, Form, & Fly because I thought it'd be easy to bust out the box score for an album that I love. I was kind of right.
First of all, let me break Charlie T. Protocol and say, right up front, that I love this album because it is just that: AN ALBUM. In a world of disposable downloads, singles, mp3 giveaways, and all that, Megafaun makes a gorgeous, family of songs, coherent case for the album. It all sits together, segues, congeals so that listening to it becomes an experience. Sure, you can experience Megafaun on a song-by-song basis, but part of the strength of this record is listening to it as a whole. Soundscapes, noise interludes, found sounds and more populate the cracks of this beautiful collection of indie folk (if they must be filed) songs.
Second, I have to admit to having a certain inadequacy in this format. Some songs I love suffered because of the categories I chose. "Sleep in the bed that you made" is quite applicable. Some songs that aren't my favorite were bolstered favorably. "Darkest Hour" for instance isn't my favorite, but it heavies up on some of my criteria, so it came out beaming. But, worry not, I will calibrate this system and eventually have it running like a finely tuned 8-track.
Third, in honor of Megafaun's love of the Lakers, I've used purple & gold as well as highlighting some franchise favorite #s. I went so far as messing with "Bella Marie"'s score to get to James Worthy. I won't say if I raised or lowered, but it took some doing. I originally had some of the "highlight categories" symbolically scoring at a peak of 31 (a nod to Kurt Rambis, who, like Megafaun, was a bespectacled rambler in his heyday), but 31 was bumping the overall score into the thousands. Again, calibration will occur. So I lowered it to 21 (Michael Cooper, underrated defensive stopper and 3-point specialist in the 80s heyday). Good enough.
Fourth, the review:
A brief-ish explanation of my categories:
GOLD IN THE LYRICAL HILLS: The neo-backwoods sound of this album lends itself to some lyrical simplicity and straightforwardness. Like a great Gillian Welch song, you can mine these lyrical hills for some beautiful, simple truths and great lyrical moments.
PURE BEAUTY: the x-factor.
FOUND SOUNDS: Part avante garde art project, part Smithsonian Folkways field recording.
singalong/SHOUTALONG: Sing (or shout) alongability. Can you see/hear yourself singing/shouting along at a show? Can you resist? There are lots of moments where I wanna just jump in, even if I don't know the words just yet.
HARMONY (FRATERNAL, ETC.): Megafaun features two brothers, rawer than the Everlys or Louvins. The mix is undeniable, especially when you add a third non-blood part to bond it all.
PATIENCE: For all the shouting and singing and revival-style music, there are moments of pure patience. Of letting the cocoon simply do its thing, of stop motion photography, of just sitting til the light is just right.
FOLKSINESS: Looking for elements of traditional folkie songwriting and the prominent featuring of traditional folk instruments like banjo, field organ, etc.
cacoFAUNy: For all the reverence towards traditionalism, Megafaun also has a foot in the world of noise- beautiful, deliberate, unapologetic cacophony. Noise soundscapes create tension bridges at several key points in the journey of this album.
BRIAN WILSON/SUFJAN STEVENS ARRANGING: As much for the beachy (albeit on a different coast than Mr. Wilson) harmonies as for the inventive arrangements. Look for big thematic jumps, unorthodox percussion, and more.
BON IVER-ATION: You probably know, because no one (myself now included) will let you forget, that Megafaun made up the band Justin Vernon left to do Bon Iver. Can you spot the overlap? Gratefully, these boys don't have to worry about the shadow because their own thing stands on its own. (This coming from a massive Bon Iver fan.) I can't tell you how happy it made me that J. Vernon didn't do some big, shrinkwrap-sticker-featuring guest stint.
I love this record. It'll be top 10, maybe top 5, at the end of the year. GUARANTEED. "Gather, Form, & Fly" and "Longest Day" are two of my favorite songs of the year.
TOTAL SCORE: 979
I picked Megafaun's Gather, Form, & Fly because I thought it'd be easy to bust out the box score for an album that I love. I was kind of right.
First of all, let me break Charlie T. Protocol and say, right up front, that I love this album because it is just that: AN ALBUM. In a world of disposable downloads, singles, mp3 giveaways, and all that, Megafaun makes a gorgeous, family of songs, coherent case for the album. It all sits together, segues, congeals so that listening to it becomes an experience. Sure, you can experience Megafaun on a song-by-song basis, but part of the strength of this record is listening to it as a whole. Soundscapes, noise interludes, found sounds and more populate the cracks of this beautiful collection of indie folk (if they must be filed) songs.
Second, I have to admit to having a certain inadequacy in this format. Some songs I love suffered because of the categories I chose. "Sleep in the bed that you made" is quite applicable. Some songs that aren't my favorite were bolstered favorably. "Darkest Hour" for instance isn't my favorite, but it heavies up on some of my criteria, so it came out beaming. But, worry not, I will calibrate this system and eventually have it running like a finely tuned 8-track.
Third, in honor of Megafaun's love of the Lakers, I've used purple & gold as well as highlighting some franchise favorite #s. I went so far as messing with "Bella Marie"'s score to get to James Worthy. I won't say if I raised or lowered, but it took some doing. I originally had some of the "highlight categories" symbolically scoring at a peak of 31 (a nod to Kurt Rambis, who, like Megafaun, was a bespectacled rambler in his heyday), but 31 was bumping the overall score into the thousands. Again, calibration will occur. So I lowered it to 21 (Michael Cooper, underrated defensive stopper and 3-point specialist in the 80s heyday). Good enough.
Fourth, the review:
A brief-ish explanation of my categories:
GOLD IN THE LYRICAL HILLS: The neo-backwoods sound of this album lends itself to some lyrical simplicity and straightforwardness. Like a great Gillian Welch song, you can mine these lyrical hills for some beautiful, simple truths and great lyrical moments.
PURE BEAUTY: the x-factor.
FOUND SOUNDS: Part avante garde art project, part Smithsonian Folkways field recording.
singalong/SHOUTALONG: Sing (or shout) alongability. Can you see/hear yourself singing/shouting along at a show? Can you resist? There are lots of moments where I wanna just jump in, even if I don't know the words just yet.
HARMONY (FRATERNAL, ETC.): Megafaun features two brothers, rawer than the Everlys or Louvins. The mix is undeniable, especially when you add a third non-blood part to bond it all.
PATIENCE: For all the shouting and singing and revival-style music, there are moments of pure patience. Of letting the cocoon simply do its thing, of stop motion photography, of just sitting til the light is just right.
FOLKSINESS: Looking for elements of traditional folkie songwriting and the prominent featuring of traditional folk instruments like banjo, field organ, etc.
cacoFAUNy: For all the reverence towards traditionalism, Megafaun also has a foot in the world of noise- beautiful, deliberate, unapologetic cacophony. Noise soundscapes create tension bridges at several key points in the journey of this album.
BRIAN WILSON/SUFJAN STEVENS ARRANGING: As much for the beachy (albeit on a different coast than Mr. Wilson) harmonies as for the inventive arrangements. Look for big thematic jumps, unorthodox percussion, and more.
BON IVER-ATION: You probably know, because no one (myself now included) will let you forget, that Megafaun made up the band Justin Vernon left to do Bon Iver. Can you spot the overlap? Gratefully, these boys don't have to worry about the shadow because their own thing stands on its own. (This coming from a massive Bon Iver fan.) I can't tell you how happy it made me that J. Vernon didn't do some big, shrinkwrap-sticker-featuring guest stint.
I love this record. It'll be top 10, maybe top 5, at the end of the year. GUARANTEED. "Gather, Form, & Fly" and "Longest Day" are two of my favorite songs of the year.
TOTAL SCORE: 979
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Finals, pt. Over
No one's gonna start MVP chants for me; that much is assured. Which oughta keep some of the pressure off me as I try to step up and give my team the W, unlike- say- Dwight Howard at the charity stripe in crunchtime and the brilliant citizens of Orlando.
No one's gonna call me Mr. Clutch either, though. I'm not nailing gamewinners here. I still think the Rambis parallel from the last post is probably the best, most accurate description. I'm just trying to make some hustle plays while the stars catch their breath.
Enough about me. The Finals are over. And two things are written in stone:
1. Kobe has four rings, one without Shaq.
2. Phil Jackson has more championships than the legendary Red Auerbach.
I'm not stating anything groundbreaking, that hasn't been spit out, regurgitated, analyzed, thesaurused, re-analyzed, counter-analyzed, plagiarized, cleverly reworded, and re-regurgitated a billion times by the story-starved media (the best and maybe most honest article of which- at least that I read- is here). They're just the stark, unavoidable facts.
This is the part where- to give context- I have to confess to my anti-Lakerhood. Even though, I grew up a fan (after the Jazz) of Magic, Worthy, Byron Scott, Kareem, Cooper, Rambis, Mychal Thompson, etc. But, if I could do it over again, you know who I'd like? The Celtics. They had less flash, more soul, more Bird. But how do you tell that to a 4th grader in Utah who wants to see no look passes and is too hoop-immature to grasp exactly what makes Bird ridiculously once-in-a-lifetime? Thank goodness for ESPN Classic where, even if I can't change the outcome, I can revise MY history.
Is it jealousy? Maybe. But I think it's just that the post-Magic Laker teams have not been all that likable. Kobe. Van Exel. Vlade. Vujacitch. Rick Fox. Elden Campbell. The only one close to winning Miss Congeniality in that list is Sasha. And the only thing that makes him more likely than the other guys is the fact that he's a bitch.
Still, to complicate matters, I inexplicably rooted for the Lake Show when Gary Payton and Karl Malone joined. Shaq, despite the fact that I was rooting for him, would've called me a frontrunner. But I wanted The Mailman to get the monkey (and media) off his back. And he came within a fluke knee injury (I mean. Come on. That guy was a picture of pure health for his whole career, played through injuries all the time...what are the chances?) of getting one.
Speaking of monkeys, let's get back to the present. Kobe got the Can't Win Without Shaq monkey off his back. Plain and simple. I wished he wouldn't. But he did. I rooted against him in every situation except those outlined by Charlie T. But he's officially in the One Of The Bests (note the plural, please, no singular) conversation, no matter how many times I pinch myself.
Same with The Zenmeister. Folks can point to the luck of the draw, the talent closet he was choosing from, but the guy wins. The difference here is that Phil has entered the The Best conversation. I wanted that conversation to always end up at Red, I'll admit that. But there is nothing but room for debate. And Phil isn't done. Can the Lakers do it again? Does it matter? Will Phil somehow end up coaching LeBron? I wouldn't say it's impossible.
Because if we've learned anything from the last couple years it's
ANYTHING IS POSSIBBBBUUUULLLLLL!
No one's gonna call me Mr. Clutch either, though. I'm not nailing gamewinners here. I still think the Rambis parallel from the last post is probably the best, most accurate description. I'm just trying to make some hustle plays while the stars catch their breath.
Enough about me. The Finals are over. And two things are written in stone:
1. Kobe has four rings, one without Shaq.
2. Phil Jackson has more championships than the legendary Red Auerbach.
I'm not stating anything groundbreaking, that hasn't been spit out, regurgitated, analyzed, thesaurused, re-analyzed, counter-analyzed, plagiarized, cleverly reworded, and re-regurgitated a billion times by the story-starved media (the best and maybe most honest article of which- at least that I read- is here). They're just the stark, unavoidable facts.
This is the part where- to give context- I have to confess to my anti-Lakerhood. Even though, I grew up a fan (after the Jazz) of Magic, Worthy, Byron Scott, Kareem, Cooper, Rambis, Mychal Thompson, etc. But, if I could do it over again, you know who I'd like? The Celtics. They had less flash, more soul, more Bird. But how do you tell that to a 4th grader in Utah who wants to see no look passes and is too hoop-immature to grasp exactly what makes Bird ridiculously once-in-a-lifetime? Thank goodness for ESPN Classic where, even if I can't change the outcome, I can revise MY history.
Is it jealousy? Maybe. But I think it's just that the post-Magic Laker teams have not been all that likable. Kobe. Van Exel. Vlade. Vujacitch. Rick Fox. Elden Campbell. The only one close to winning Miss Congeniality in that list is Sasha. And the only thing that makes him more likely than the other guys is the fact that he's a bitch.
Still, to complicate matters, I inexplicably rooted for the Lake Show when Gary Payton and Karl Malone joined. Shaq, despite the fact that I was rooting for him, would've called me a frontrunner. But I wanted The Mailman to get the monkey (and media) off his back. And he came within a fluke knee injury (I mean. Come on. That guy was a picture of pure health for his whole career, played through injuries all the time...what are the chances?) of getting one.
Speaking of monkeys, let's get back to the present. Kobe got the Can't Win Without Shaq monkey off his back. Plain and simple. I wished he wouldn't. But he did. I rooted against him in every situation except those outlined by Charlie T. But he's officially in the One Of The Bests (note the plural, please, no singular) conversation, no matter how many times I pinch myself.
Same with The Zenmeister. Folks can point to the luck of the draw, the talent closet he was choosing from, but the guy wins. The difference here is that Phil has entered the The Best conversation. I wanted that conversation to always end up at Red, I'll admit that. But there is nothing but room for debate. And Phil isn't done. Can the Lakers do it again? Does it matter? Will Phil somehow end up coaching LeBron? I wouldn't say it's impossible.
Because if we've learned anything from the last couple years it's
ANYTHING IS POSSIBBBBUUUULLLLLL!
Friday, June 12, 2009
Finals, pt. 2
I feel like Magic with Kareem out. Except instead of Magic, I'm Rambis. And I've gotta play every position from the 1 to the 5. And I'm not sure how I'm gonna swing it. There's no How-To manual to get me through this. I've just gotta go.
Charlie is out. He's been carrying the blog on his shoulders. And, before the Finals end and Kobe gets to wear another ring and enters the next level in the Pantheon of Greats (though, if my sources are correct, he can ascend no higher in the Pantheon of Least Likable Douches), somebody has to punch out a part 2. You can't have a part 1 without a part 2, unless you're the Traveling Wilburys, in which case you just skip to part 3.
Some thoughts on the Finals:
Derek Fisher: How Does He Do It?
I watched the final game of the Western Conference Finals with at least 6 friends of mine who are insane Laker fans. One was wearing a Devean George jersey, the rest had some kind of Lakers gear on, some of it homemade. And even they - the diehards- didn't trust Derek Fisher. SO ERRATIC. They all admitted that they like him for his legacy and his on-games, but also for the fact that He's The Least Of Their PG Evils. Gotta love a championship team whose go-to PG gets the spot by sentimental default.
And to further the enigma, the guy taints his legacy with a pretty out-of-character, but probably all-time punk move on Scola only to be redeemed by hitting moneyballs in the Finals. EVEN THOUGH HE HAD BEEN A NONFACTOR AT BEST, arguably outplayed by the schizo-insecure Magic PGs, clutch shots make up for just about anything. Derek Fisher, how do you do it?
Dwight Howard: Russell in Reverse
Just like history will gloss over everything but the clutch shots for Fisher, Howard's near Russellian triple double (a block short) will likely be forgotten. And the memory that will carry on like Eagles Reunion tours and Jimi Hendrix beer cozies, logical or not, is the missed FTs. And, down the road, mark my words, you won't be able to see Howard's misses without seeing Nick Anderson (bless his heart)'s misses. Howard's got a long career ahead of him; I hope history is kind. But you know who's most relieved? Courtney Lee.
That's a start. I wouldn't call it a baby hook. But it's at very least a really, fiesty rebound.
Charlie is out. He's been carrying the blog on his shoulders. And, before the Finals end and Kobe gets to wear another ring and enters the next level in the Pantheon of Greats (though, if my sources are correct, he can ascend no higher in the Pantheon of Least Likable Douches), somebody has to punch out a part 2. You can't have a part 1 without a part 2, unless you're the Traveling Wilburys, in which case you just skip to part 3.
Some thoughts on the Finals:
Derek Fisher: How Does He Do It?
I watched the final game of the Western Conference Finals with at least 6 friends of mine who are insane Laker fans. One was wearing a Devean George jersey, the rest had some kind of Lakers gear on, some of it homemade. And even they - the diehards- didn't trust Derek Fisher. SO ERRATIC. They all admitted that they like him for his legacy and his on-games, but also for the fact that He's The Least Of Their PG Evils. Gotta love a championship team whose go-to PG gets the spot by sentimental default.
And to further the enigma, the guy taints his legacy with a pretty out-of-character, but probably all-time punk move on Scola only to be redeemed by hitting moneyballs in the Finals. EVEN THOUGH HE HAD BEEN A NONFACTOR AT BEST, arguably outplayed by the schizo-insecure Magic PGs, clutch shots make up for just about anything. Derek Fisher, how do you do it?
Dwight Howard: Russell in Reverse
Just like history will gloss over everything but the clutch shots for Fisher, Howard's near Russellian triple double (a block short) will likely be forgotten. And the memory that will carry on like Eagles Reunion tours and Jimi Hendrix beer cozies, logical or not, is the missed FTs. And, down the road, mark my words, you won't be able to see Howard's misses without seeing Nick Anderson (bless his heart)'s misses. Howard's got a long career ahead of him; I hope history is kind. But you know who's most relieved? Courtney Lee.
That's a start. I wouldn't call it a baby hook. But it's at very least a really, fiesty rebound.
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