It occurred to me that the most indisputable way for us to prove that we are the real Springfield is to lose a popularity contest to a lesser -field. Winning would feel false and derivative of some idealistic Humbleton. The real Springfield would never win a USA Today contest. It doesn't ring true.
Imagine an episode of the Simpsons in which Ang Lee comes to shoot the Krusty the Clown story for a Lifetime Television feature presentation. Wouldn't he eventually decide, after scouting the town, to shoot the Springfield scenes in some other location. And wouldn't he eventually dump the real Krusty and cast James Woods to play the complicated clown. Now that makes sense.
So shed no tears if we come up short in the final tally. We can only be validated in defeat.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Friday, July 06, 2007
I Like American Music
As you might remember, this blog called last year’s American Music Show one of the best, if not the best, evenings of live music in the history of Springfield. All indications are that this year’s show will be just as strong so I feel confident in issuing an entreaty to you, the entertainment-starved community. Go see the show. We must support those who would provide us quality music or we’ll be forever damned to Grandstand-level performers.
It would be easy for the organizers of the Taste of Springfield to sign-up some local bands to take the stage and provide background music during the festive eating binge. There’s nothing wrong with local bands, except that, well, they’re local and you can hear them most every weekend. But instead of giving us more of the same, they’ve made the music the highlight of the evening by putting it in the hands of someone who knows good music. You may not have heard of many of the bands set to perform, but you’re bound to like them.
For my entertainment dollar, the Bottle Rockets are the main draw at this year’s show. I’ve seen them several times in the past, opening up for Uncle Tupelo and later Wilco, and they never failed to put on an energetic performance. They have a lot of great songs to draw upon. Brian Henneman is a terrific songwriter who injects a lot of emotion into his fairly straightforward lyrics and puts a little pop in his alt-country numbers. Gravity Fails is a personal favorite.
The Romantics get the official top billing and will probably draw the most enthusiastic response of the evening. I’ve seen them once before, when they opened for the Kinks in Champaign back in the early 80s. I don’t remember being blown away by their performance, although we were sitting up pretty high in the Assembly Hall and only made our way past security and closer to the stage when Ray and Dave started playing. Binky the Broken Bassist (see pics below) said they played a show with the Romantics and they were tearing it up. I think we can expect a rawer, garage rock sound than some of their hits might indicate.
I’ve only heard one track from the Shazam, but it’s a kicker. Sean Burns compared them favorably to Cheap Trick, and I’ve also read comparisons to Badfinger and the aforementioned Kinks. I’m a big fan of power pop when done right (Big Star, the Posies, etc.) I expect an experience similar to what the Woogles provided last year, i.e., a band that I hadn’t heard going in but still blew me away with every song. Silvio Dante and Paul Weller like the Shazam, so that’s saying something.
I’m not too familiar with Rex Hobart, although I know I’ve heard some of his stuff on WQNA. He gets credit for naming his band the Misery Boys, which is so much cooler than the Blowfish.
The Damwell Betters provide the local flavor and I’m looking forward to hearing them along with the nerdabilly stylings of Crazy Joe and the Mad River Outlaws from over Ohio ways.
The only disappointment is that Sarah Borges and the Broken Singles aren’t returning. Maybe next year?
We saw them in Wisconsin a couple of weeks ago and they’re in fine form promoting a great new album. That’s them below performing in Wisconsin and another shot from earlier that evening where they proved to be lovely dinner companions (the east coast rockers sat on one side of the table and the Springfield groupies were on the other.)
It’s also unfortunate that the Second City troupe was booked at the Hoogland on the same night as the American Music Show. I would liked to have seen them and the two events will probably draw from the same crowd, but live music almost always trumps live comedy.
And apparently Saturday kicks off the 150th anniversary of someplace called Ashland, but since that’s a week-long celebration, there is really no reason not to be in downtown Springfield on Saturday night. Is there?
Kicking it in Port Washington.
Sarah, Rob, Mike and Binky
It would be easy for the organizers of the Taste of Springfield to sign-up some local bands to take the stage and provide background music during the festive eating binge. There’s nothing wrong with local bands, except that, well, they’re local and you can hear them most every weekend. But instead of giving us more of the same, they’ve made the music the highlight of the evening by putting it in the hands of someone who knows good music. You may not have heard of many of the bands set to perform, but you’re bound to like them.
For my entertainment dollar, the Bottle Rockets are the main draw at this year’s show. I’ve seen them several times in the past, opening up for Uncle Tupelo and later Wilco, and they never failed to put on an energetic performance. They have a lot of great songs to draw upon. Brian Henneman is a terrific songwriter who injects a lot of emotion into his fairly straightforward lyrics and puts a little pop in his alt-country numbers. Gravity Fails is a personal favorite.
The Romantics get the official top billing and will probably draw the most enthusiastic response of the evening. I’ve seen them once before, when they opened for the Kinks in Champaign back in the early 80s. I don’t remember being blown away by their performance, although we were sitting up pretty high in the Assembly Hall and only made our way past security and closer to the stage when Ray and Dave started playing. Binky the Broken Bassist (see pics below) said they played a show with the Romantics and they were tearing it up. I think we can expect a rawer, garage rock sound than some of their hits might indicate.
I’ve only heard one track from the Shazam, but it’s a kicker. Sean Burns compared them favorably to Cheap Trick, and I’ve also read comparisons to Badfinger and the aforementioned Kinks. I’m a big fan of power pop when done right (Big Star, the Posies, etc.) I expect an experience similar to what the Woogles provided last year, i.e., a band that I hadn’t heard going in but still blew me away with every song. Silvio Dante and Paul Weller like the Shazam, so that’s saying something.
I’m not too familiar with Rex Hobart, although I know I’ve heard some of his stuff on WQNA. He gets credit for naming his band the Misery Boys, which is so much cooler than the Blowfish.
The Damwell Betters provide the local flavor and I’m looking forward to hearing them along with the nerdabilly stylings of Crazy Joe and the Mad River Outlaws from over Ohio ways.
The only disappointment is that Sarah Borges and the Broken Singles aren’t returning. Maybe next year?
We saw them in Wisconsin a couple of weeks ago and they’re in fine form promoting a great new album. That’s them below performing in Wisconsin and another shot from earlier that evening where they proved to be lovely dinner companions (the east coast rockers sat on one side of the table and the Springfield groupies were on the other.)
It’s also unfortunate that the Second City troupe was booked at the Hoogland on the same night as the American Music Show. I would liked to have seen them and the two events will probably draw from the same crowd, but live music almost always trumps live comedy.
And apparently Saturday kicks off the 150th anniversary of someplace called Ashland, but since that’s a week-long celebration, there is really no reason not to be in downtown Springfield on Saturday night. Is there?
Kicking it in Port Washington.
Sarah, Rob, Mike and Binky
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Upon further review
The consensus in the newspaper, among those who know him, is that Rev. Jerry Doss is a reasonable and compassionate man. So how to we square that with his harsh accusations of injustice over a police action that was executed properly and without injury? Perhaps an analogy would help.
Imagine a football coach, playing on the road in a game in which every call seems to be going against his team. In reality, some of the calls were made incorrectly, while others were just calls he didn’t like. But perception can easily skew reality and the coach is convinced that the refs are playing to the home crowd and his team is the victim of their one-sided decisions.
By the fourth quarter, the coach has had enough and the next time a yellow flag is thrown on one of his players, he storms out onto the field to protest. Only this is one of those times when the correct call was made. In fact, it wasn’t even close. Yet the coach can’t see this, so enraged is he from previous injustices. His players, who were already frustrated by what they perceived as a lack of fairness, are further outraged when they see their normally even-tempered coach dissent so venomously.
Meanwhile, the home team fans are baffled. They saw the replay of the play that caused the coach to blow up and the call was correct (they’ve already forgotten about the previous bad calls where the coach had legitimate grounds to protest.) They immediately think the coach is either delusional or conniving. The boos rain down as the coach is pulled back to the sideline.
When play resumes, tensions between the two teams on the field are even greater, with the refs caught in the middle. Hopefully, the game will end before an all-out brawl ensues.
Imagine a football coach, playing on the road in a game in which every call seems to be going against his team. In reality, some of the calls were made incorrectly, while others were just calls he didn’t like. But perception can easily skew reality and the coach is convinced that the refs are playing to the home crowd and his team is the victim of their one-sided decisions.
By the fourth quarter, the coach has had enough and the next time a yellow flag is thrown on one of his players, he storms out onto the field to protest. Only this is one of those times when the correct call was made. In fact, it wasn’t even close. Yet the coach can’t see this, so enraged is he from previous injustices. His players, who were already frustrated by what they perceived as a lack of fairness, are further outraged when they see their normally even-tempered coach dissent so venomously.
Meanwhile, the home team fans are baffled. They saw the replay of the play that caused the coach to blow up and the call was correct (they’ve already forgotten about the previous bad calls where the coach had legitimate grounds to protest.) They immediately think the coach is either delusional or conniving. The boos rain down as the coach is pulled back to the sideline.
When play resumes, tensions between the two teams on the field are even greater, with the refs caught in the middle. Hopefully, the game will end before an all-out brawl ensues.
Monday, July 02, 2007
The Secret Police
Okay, I’m back. Man, them chicks is loco.
It’s been brought to my attention that this blog has been lacking in substance in recent months. I admit that I have been trending towards the light and breezy, in part because of an increased inkling that my thoughtful commentary comes across as foolish blowhardedness. This explains my recent foray into blog theatre; if I'm going to be thought a fool I might as well enjoy acting as one. But I didn’t garner the most intelligent commentors in the blogosphere by dodging the serious issues of the day. So here’s a little red meat for some of you regulars (if you’re still out there) to chew on.
I’ve never worn a badge and I’m probably not fit to carry a gun. But I don’t believe that this disqualifies me from commenting on the Springfield Police Department and their festering image problem. In fact, as an average citizen with little experience dealing with the police in an official capacity, I think that I can see, maybe better than those with a more active stake, how and why a group that is comprised generally of well-meaning and hard-working individuals can be seen as manipulative, furtive, and bigoted by so many in our community.
I don’t mean to suggest that the SPD’s problems are simply a matter of image. There are clearly issues that need to be addressed. But if I wish to speak with any authority at all in hopes of having my words taken seriously, which will be increasingly more difficult after the hostage charade, then I must limit my commentary to an area on which I do have some expertise: public relations and in particular, how it is viewed through the media.
I don’t know if Don Kliment was a good chief. I have no reason to doubt that he was at the very least competent at administering to the inner workings of the department. But I do think a legitimate criticism can be made about how he dealt with the external goings-on. In short, we seldom saw or heard from the guy.
The chief needs to be a public figure. Ideally he or she would be a well-liked and trusted figure who cuts an impressive image, but at the very least this person should be recognizable, accessible, and exhibit all of the outward signs of proper hygiene.
Whenever there is an issue involving the department, the chief should be out in front of it, instead of tucked away in city hall. When reporters call, the chief should be answering the phone. When TV20 comes scooping around, it should be the chief’s mug on the nightly news.
The chief should be someone who will openly defend the officers when they’re wrongly accused, even if it means angering the accusers. But also someone who will acknowledge when mistakes are made and who will be as open and upfront as the law and the sensitivity of their work allows. In short, we need Frank Furillo, except he shouldn’t be carrying on with the DA, not that there’s anything wrong with that.
My initial impressions are that Ralph Caldwell will be better as the public face for the department, at least to the extent that he is allowed to be. He seems like he will be more comfortable in the public eye and in all other ways he seems qualified for the job. But even in handing him the reigns, the department, and probably to a larger extent the mayor’s office, bungled the public relations aspect.
First off, they need to relieve themselves of the 2,300 page albatross. Someone should do an assessment of the risk in releasing the infamous ISP report to determine if the potential harm is greater than the suspicion it continues to generate by remaining concealed. One of two things could happen if they release the report, either the public would see that their clamoring was for naught or the department would be forced to deal publicly with some problems that might look clearer once exposed to the sun. Of course a third possibility is a lawsuit, but that’s why we have Jennifer Johnson.
Secondly, a nationwide search for a new chief should have been conducted.
The argument against looking outside the department largely consists of pointing to former chief Harris as reason enough to hire from within. But were Harris’ problems the result of his not being a veteran of the SPD or were other shortcomings to blame?
Sports teams don’t automatically hire the long-time assistant when the head coaching job comes open, why is it assumed by those in the department that there isn’t a Belichick-type cop from some other burg who could come in and shape the troops into a championship force? If, after a good long look, Caldwell was still the best man for the job, then he’d have been given a leg up in the credibility department because it would have helped dispel the notion that he is the mayor’s boy and the rank and file’s crony.
There pervades in the SPD, an attitude of “we know what’s best and if everyone would just leave well enough alone then we can get on with our jobs.” I don’t dispute the fact that the police are the experts when it comes to policing and that much of the criticism leveled against them is unfounded or misguided. But theirs is clearly one of the most scrutinized and sensitive of occupations and since they’re compensated through taxpayers’ dollars, you can’t expect the public not to take an interest in their work.
Even if every officer were honest, upstanding, and vigorously tolerant of all races, colors and creeds, there still would be the impression that prejudice taints the enforcement of justice. Circling the wagons at every accusation of wrong doing only exasperates that notion, even if the accusation is bogus. The unfortunate truth, however, is that not every officer is Andy Taylor and not every cry of police misconduct is without merit.
I appreciate the work that police officers do. I understand that they must confront the dangers that we civilians can flee from. I also understand that much of the work they do is confidential. But from my perspective, the Thin Blue Line would be more formidable if it were more perceptible. I hope the new chief appreciates this and becomes a more active advocate for his officers and a more responsive servant to the citizenry.
It’s been brought to my attention that this blog has been lacking in substance in recent months. I admit that I have been trending towards the light and breezy, in part because of an increased inkling that my thoughtful commentary comes across as foolish blowhardedness. This explains my recent foray into blog theatre; if I'm going to be thought a fool I might as well enjoy acting as one. But I didn’t garner the most intelligent commentors in the blogosphere by dodging the serious issues of the day. So here’s a little red meat for some of you regulars (if you’re still out there) to chew on.
I’ve never worn a badge and I’m probably not fit to carry a gun. But I don’t believe that this disqualifies me from commenting on the Springfield Police Department and their festering image problem. In fact, as an average citizen with little experience dealing with the police in an official capacity, I think that I can see, maybe better than those with a more active stake, how and why a group that is comprised generally of well-meaning and hard-working individuals can be seen as manipulative, furtive, and bigoted by so many in our community.
I don’t mean to suggest that the SPD’s problems are simply a matter of image. There are clearly issues that need to be addressed. But if I wish to speak with any authority at all in hopes of having my words taken seriously, which will be increasingly more difficult after the hostage charade, then I must limit my commentary to an area on which I do have some expertise: public relations and in particular, how it is viewed through the media.
I don’t know if Don Kliment was a good chief. I have no reason to doubt that he was at the very least competent at administering to the inner workings of the department. But I do think a legitimate criticism can be made about how he dealt with the external goings-on. In short, we seldom saw or heard from the guy.
The chief needs to be a public figure. Ideally he or she would be a well-liked and trusted figure who cuts an impressive image, but at the very least this person should be recognizable, accessible, and exhibit all of the outward signs of proper hygiene.
Whenever there is an issue involving the department, the chief should be out in front of it, instead of tucked away in city hall. When reporters call, the chief should be answering the phone. When TV20 comes scooping around, it should be the chief’s mug on the nightly news.
The chief should be someone who will openly defend the officers when they’re wrongly accused, even if it means angering the accusers. But also someone who will acknowledge when mistakes are made and who will be as open and upfront as the law and the sensitivity of their work allows. In short, we need Frank Furillo, except he shouldn’t be carrying on with the DA, not that there’s anything wrong with that.
My initial impressions are that Ralph Caldwell will be better as the public face for the department, at least to the extent that he is allowed to be. He seems like he will be more comfortable in the public eye and in all other ways he seems qualified for the job. But even in handing him the reigns, the department, and probably to a larger extent the mayor’s office, bungled the public relations aspect.
First off, they need to relieve themselves of the 2,300 page albatross. Someone should do an assessment of the risk in releasing the infamous ISP report to determine if the potential harm is greater than the suspicion it continues to generate by remaining concealed. One of two things could happen if they release the report, either the public would see that their clamoring was for naught or the department would be forced to deal publicly with some problems that might look clearer once exposed to the sun. Of course a third possibility is a lawsuit, but that’s why we have Jennifer Johnson.
Secondly, a nationwide search for a new chief should have been conducted.
The argument against looking outside the department largely consists of pointing to former chief Harris as reason enough to hire from within. But were Harris’ problems the result of his not being a veteran of the SPD or were other shortcomings to blame?
Sports teams don’t automatically hire the long-time assistant when the head coaching job comes open, why is it assumed by those in the department that there isn’t a Belichick-type cop from some other burg who could come in and shape the troops into a championship force? If, after a good long look, Caldwell was still the best man for the job, then he’d have been given a leg up in the credibility department because it would have helped dispel the notion that he is the mayor’s boy and the rank and file’s crony.
There pervades in the SPD, an attitude of “we know what’s best and if everyone would just leave well enough alone then we can get on with our jobs.” I don’t dispute the fact that the police are the experts when it comes to policing and that much of the criticism leveled against them is unfounded or misguided. But theirs is clearly one of the most scrutinized and sensitive of occupations and since they’re compensated through taxpayers’ dollars, you can’t expect the public not to take an interest in their work.
Even if every officer were honest, upstanding, and vigorously tolerant of all races, colors and creeds, there still would be the impression that prejudice taints the enforcement of justice. Circling the wagons at every accusation of wrong doing only exasperates that notion, even if the accusation is bogus. The unfortunate truth, however, is that not every officer is Andy Taylor and not every cry of police misconduct is without merit.
I appreciate the work that police officers do. I understand that they must confront the dangers that we civilians can flee from. I also understand that much of the work they do is confidential. But from my perspective, the Thin Blue Line would be more formidable if it were more perceptible. I hope the new chief appreciates this and becomes a more active advocate for his officers and a more responsive servant to the citizenry.
Sunday, July 01, 2007
Friday, June 15, 2007
Red Hats - Black Hearts
While the local media continues its coverage of hot-button issues, I feel, in light of a recent incident, that it is incumbant upon me to continue my crusade to expose one of the most depraved and surreptitious organizations to ever cast its dark hand over our fair city. I speak of course of the ominous Re
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Friday, June 08, 2007
Things to do in Springfield when your iPod's dead
Heritage Days at Little Flower is this weekend and the weather should be fine for celebrating in the time-honored Catholic tradition of combining family fun with beer. There will be 80s cover bands performing on Friday and Saturday nights, games for the kids, ethnic foods, and BEER. For you bargain hunters/skinflints, there will be a massive, 15,000-item garage sell on Saturday morning.
And get this – for $50 you can purchase a raffle ticket guaranteed to win you $25,000 provided that it is picked out of the drum at the opportune time on Sunday afternoon. Otherwise it will guarantee you to win $2,500, $1,000, $100, or, in a worst case scenario, nothing. But why dwell on the negative; you’re going to win the big prize.
Anyway, they’ll be more fun than you can shake a stick at. I wanted to book a performance by the BlogFreeSpringfield Dancers, but they were already committed to a month-long gig in Tunica. Maybe next year.
Locals like to ponder why the citizenry here won’t support a professional sports organization. I think I know the answer: we’re theatre people.
I went to the Muni last night to see Miss Saigon and was quite impressed, in light of threatening weather conditions and the weekday performance, with the number of people in attendance. It’s obvious that we Springfieldians have an appreciation of the theatrical arts and would rather spend our time in the company of thespians and altos rather than southpaws and shortstops. So forget all that nonsense of Springfield being filled with rubes and philistines, we’re actually tony sophisticates, albeit ones who still enjoy a good parish festival (see above.)
As for last night’s show, there were some very impressive performances to be enjoyed and if you like your musicals a little racy and heartbreaking, Miss Saigon is for you. Be sure to bring along, as Russ did, some 33 Export Lager to fully immerse yourself into the Vietnamese culture depicted on stage.
Since this post is largely self-serving, as opposed to the usual posts which are largely boring, I thought I’d seek advice on a recent technological calamity that has thrown my world into a dither. I believe my iPod is in need of a new battery, if it isn’t all together fried. I’ve read that it is much cheaper to replace the battery yourself rather than sending it in to Apple. Has anyone attempted this delicate procedure and if so, do you offer any helpful tips?
And get this – for $50 you can purchase a raffle ticket guaranteed to win you $25,000 provided that it is picked out of the drum at the opportune time on Sunday afternoon. Otherwise it will guarantee you to win $2,500, $1,000, $100, or, in a worst case scenario, nothing. But why dwell on the negative; you’re going to win the big prize.
Anyway, they’ll be more fun than you can shake a stick at. I wanted to book a performance by the BlogFreeSpringfield Dancers, but they were already committed to a month-long gig in Tunica. Maybe next year.
Locals like to ponder why the citizenry here won’t support a professional sports organization. I think I know the answer: we’re theatre people.
I went to the Muni last night to see Miss Saigon and was quite impressed, in light of threatening weather conditions and the weekday performance, with the number of people in attendance. It’s obvious that we Springfieldians have an appreciation of the theatrical arts and would rather spend our time in the company of thespians and altos rather than southpaws and shortstops. So forget all that nonsense of Springfield being filled with rubes and philistines, we’re actually tony sophisticates, albeit ones who still enjoy a good parish festival (see above.)
As for last night’s show, there were some very impressive performances to be enjoyed and if you like your musicals a little racy and heartbreaking, Miss Saigon is for you. Be sure to bring along, as Russ did, some 33 Export Lager to fully immerse yourself into the Vietnamese culture depicted on stage.
Since this post is largely self-serving, as opposed to the usual posts which are largely boring, I thought I’d seek advice on a recent technological calamity that has thrown my world into a dither. I believe my iPod is in need of a new battery, if it isn’t all together fried. I’ve read that it is much cheaper to replace the battery yourself rather than sending it in to Apple. Has anyone attempted this delicate procedure and if so, do you offer any helpful tips?
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Take the AnComm Challenge
Over at the Anonymous Communist blog, people are baring their souls and revealing the guilty pleasures that reside in their music collections. It’s quite shameful what some of them bop their heads to when no one else is around. Nick Rogers? Really!
Anyway, I took the challenge and found it quite cathartic, despite the potential derision I might face now that my passive Bread fetish is on public record.
I encourage you to wash away your guilt by going there and confessing to your most sordid musical dalliances. The truth will set you free. Unless, of course, you have a secret crush on the Winger discography, in which case you’ll be mercilessly and rightfully ridiculed.
Anyway, I took the challenge and found it quite cathartic, despite the potential derision I might face now that my passive Bread fetish is on public record.
I encourage you to wash away your guilt by going there and confessing to your most sordid musical dalliances. The truth will set you free. Unless, of course, you have a secret crush on the Winger discography, in which case you’ll be mercilessly and rightfully ridiculed.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Infidels in My iPod
Disclaimer: Sometimes these things just kind of write themselves. Feel free to stop reading if it gets too ridiculous. Because it does. It’s also excruciatingly boring, but that pretty much goes without saying.
Note: This post was originally written two weeks ago and since that time I’ve experienced difficulties with my iPod, which is currently listed in unstable condition. This isn't a coincidence.
Most of us who aren’t subservient to our own ravenous appetites place certain virtues above our own well-being and will go to great lengths to protect them when threatened by a heretical combatant. Among those things that I will fight to defend are the welfare of my children, the good name of my family, and the sanctity of my iPod. It is the last of these that has recently become compromised by an unholy attack.
Early Monday morning, while browsing through my iTunes library, I detected the presence of a musical genre I find most repellent – sex-crazed, DBR-promoted dance pop. A quick check of the Recently Purchased folder confirmed by suspicions. There, to my great horror, sat tracks by Fergie, Bouncy Knowles, and the great devil himself, Justine Timberlake.
What makes this breach even more distressing is that these heathenish acts gained access through the willful abetment of my wife, a woman I once trusted. Not only had she allowed this axis of evil to infiltrate the sacred ground of my music collection, she actually paid 99¢ per desecration. Her act of betrayal stung like the cold steel of one thousand sabers.
Allow me now to retell the horror so that you might know the truth and be saved.
For years, ever since I came to peace with the digital revolution, my wife maintained a secular relationship with the iTunes deity. She would occasional beseech me to compile a list of tracks for a workout CD, and I would dutifully comply with a collection of upbeat indie rock and alt-country selections. All was peaceful then.
Such was my devotion for my wife, I even compromised my musical faith at times to accommodate her amoral leanings. Once I heeded her request to upload a Sheryl Crow album, despite the fact that the lords have made very clear that her music is pedestrian and not treyf. The Great One sent us Lucinda Williams so that we would not be tempted by Kid Rock duetresses.
I should have been alerted to my wife’s eventual conversion to the dark side when, one evening, a gathering of her co-workers culminated with a pilgrimage to Karma, the local discoteria. She came home reeking of rapacious beats and stupid lyrics. I deluded myself into thinking that consistent exposure to the Replacements and Uncle Tupelo had immunized her against an attack of sleazy dance remixes.
In the months that followed, she was able to mask her attraction to the allure of the Myhumpians. She kept the car stereo tuned to an innocuous, if not banal, country music station. I had no idea the spell she had been cast under, nor the jihad she was about to issue.
Last Saturday night, she came home speaking of a great song she had heard on WQNA. Never before had she spoke of the great non-commercial station that plays some of the best music in the city. I was gladdened.
My hopes were dashed somewhat when a Google search of the lyrics determined it was a Coldplay song that had entranced her, but I gladly downloaded it for anyway. Little did I know that it was all a ruse and she was covertly surveying my every move in an attempt to learn how to access the iTunes store. She struck the next day.
As I slept peacefully on Sunday night, she, fully possessed by Timbaland’s satanic production, set out to debauch by association every Twin Tone and Sub Pop recording in my digital library. Aided by the speed of DSL, she downloaded 16 of the vilest tunes ever to defile the human ear. Now I’m faced with how to respond to this scourge in a manner that is respectful to my musical taste, yet won’t lead me into damnation against an enemy much more imposing than I.
As most of you know, the next time I update my iPod all of her sickening songs will enter the device and could conceivably start playing if I set it to shuffle mode, an event that would surely have me longing for the sweet release of death. My only recourse is to banish the songs from iTunes, and risk whatever fate awaits me on the domestic battlefield. If I never post here again, know that I went down protecting the honor of my iPod. Veneration shall be mine.
Note: This post was originally written two weeks ago and since that time I’ve experienced difficulties with my iPod, which is currently listed in unstable condition. This isn't a coincidence.
Most of us who aren’t subservient to our own ravenous appetites place certain virtues above our own well-being and will go to great lengths to protect them when threatened by a heretical combatant. Among those things that I will fight to defend are the welfare of my children, the good name of my family, and the sanctity of my iPod. It is the last of these that has recently become compromised by an unholy attack.
Early Monday morning, while browsing through my iTunes library, I detected the presence of a musical genre I find most repellent – sex-crazed, DBR-promoted dance pop. A quick check of the Recently Purchased folder confirmed by suspicions. There, to my great horror, sat tracks by Fergie, Bouncy Knowles, and the great devil himself, Justine Timberlake.
What makes this breach even more distressing is that these heathenish acts gained access through the willful abetment of my wife, a woman I once trusted. Not only had she allowed this axis of evil to infiltrate the sacred ground of my music collection, she actually paid 99¢ per desecration. Her act of betrayal stung like the cold steel of one thousand sabers.
Allow me now to retell the horror so that you might know the truth and be saved.
For years, ever since I came to peace with the digital revolution, my wife maintained a secular relationship with the iTunes deity. She would occasional beseech me to compile a list of tracks for a workout CD, and I would dutifully comply with a collection of upbeat indie rock and alt-country selections. All was peaceful then.
Such was my devotion for my wife, I even compromised my musical faith at times to accommodate her amoral leanings. Once I heeded her request to upload a Sheryl Crow album, despite the fact that the lords have made very clear that her music is pedestrian and not treyf. The Great One sent us Lucinda Williams so that we would not be tempted by Kid Rock duetresses.
I should have been alerted to my wife’s eventual conversion to the dark side when, one evening, a gathering of her co-workers culminated with a pilgrimage to Karma, the local discoteria. She came home reeking of rapacious beats and stupid lyrics. I deluded myself into thinking that consistent exposure to the Replacements and Uncle Tupelo had immunized her against an attack of sleazy dance remixes.
In the months that followed, she was able to mask her attraction to the allure of the Myhumpians. She kept the car stereo tuned to an innocuous, if not banal, country music station. I had no idea the spell she had been cast under, nor the jihad she was about to issue.
Last Saturday night, she came home speaking of a great song she had heard on WQNA. Never before had she spoke of the great non-commercial station that plays some of the best music in the city. I was gladdened.
My hopes were dashed somewhat when a Google search of the lyrics determined it was a Coldplay song that had entranced her, but I gladly downloaded it for anyway. Little did I know that it was all a ruse and she was covertly surveying my every move in an attempt to learn how to access the iTunes store. She struck the next day.
As I slept peacefully on Sunday night, she, fully possessed by Timbaland’s satanic production, set out to debauch by association every Twin Tone and Sub Pop recording in my digital library. Aided by the speed of DSL, she downloaded 16 of the vilest tunes ever to defile the human ear. Now I’m faced with how to respond to this scourge in a manner that is respectful to my musical taste, yet won’t lead me into damnation against an enemy much more imposing than I.
As most of you know, the next time I update my iPod all of her sickening songs will enter the device and could conceivably start playing if I set it to shuffle mode, an event that would surely have me longing for the sweet release of death. My only recourse is to banish the songs from iTunes, and risk whatever fate awaits me on the domestic battlefield. If I never post here again, know that I went down protecting the honor of my iPod. Veneration shall be mine.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
