Adieu, les Expos

A combination of morbid curiosity, baseballophilia, and a disinterest in studying led me to the final Expos game ever in Montreal last night. Though I have little attachment to the team, I couldn't help but feel a bit sad to see them leave. Sure, Washington will support the team and be able to draw crowds of more than 8,000 per game even if the team is just as lousy next year, but it's still tragic to watch the first major casualty of the moneyball era. Imagine if the Expos had been able to afford to keep Pedro Martinez, Randy Johnson, Larry Walker, Vlad Guerrero etc. Imagine if 1994's season had resumed and the Expos, who had the best record in baseball before the strike, had gone on to win the World Series. Imagine if Steinbrenner couldn't spend more on his infield than the small market teams spend on their entire personnel.

The crowd's mood at the game was a mixture of emotions. Some of the anger was targeted specifically at Bud Selig, more at Peter Loria, and some was just unspecified and caused a ten minute delay when a few idiots in the stands threw crap on the field during the third inning. (Baseball Musings has a complete account of the evening. But c'mon...Sarah McLachlan songs are never appropriate at a baseball game.) With the game 9-1 in favor of the Marlins since the fifth inning, the standing ovations and chants of "Let's Go Expos" in the eighth and ninth innings were either absurdly inspiring or inspiringly absurd. The ending was deflating, actually; I had expected more of a catharsis, but it seemed like there was too much melancholy in the air for any looting or storming of the field.

Of the many signs that fans brought to the stadium, the winner has to be the one with a photo of George Bush with the caption, "Washington already has all the entertainment it needs."

I half expect to see a down-and-out Youppi next spring in the gutters of Ste-Catherine, panhandling and getting wasted off jug wine from a paper bag.

Be it dead or alive

Lately I've been trying to figure out the significance of the sudden bowing out of TMFTML, whose snide critiques of pop culture and journalism originally had an influence on this site. (It had been one of the frequently updated blogs that I used to check out from work, back when I had a job). The general reaction in the blogosphere seems to be one of guarded mourning, and I share some of the ambivalence. Does its retirement mean that we have finally turned the corner in the fight against rampant irony? Has snarkiness jumped the shark? Will sincerity and optimism mount a comeback? Has the number of über-sardonic pop culture blogs reached the point of saturation? Aren't such commentaries an easy way to avoid discussing genuine sentiment?

And yet, what would we do without these sources of mockery? Take ourselves too seriously?

And how much of a nerd have I become that I'm introducing dialectics to the realm of the blogosphere? Aren't you sick of reading this many questions in a row? Don't you miss the simpler days when I made passing references to Tony Danza?


I want answers, dammit.

The North American temp (dronius tedious) outside of his natural habitat

Office run-ins of the past two days:

*The disrepair of the one photocopier in the building for which I have an access code. Because it's not as though TA's would have a need to make copies from the library, or anything. I know I've only been exploiting my access code for non-pedagogical purposes so far, but still.... I feel entitled, so piss off.
*The McGill fellowship people haven't posted the OFFICIAL evaluation letter form to their website yet, and it's due in two weeks. It's already so ridiculous that I need their form when there's nothing on it that couldn't be detailed in a blank letter, but not having the form I need a week after they said it would be posted is a scandale. I plan to call their office tomorrow and bitch in two languages if necessary.
*I began a spreadsheet. Like, out of my own volition, I did this. It's only to keep track of quiz grades for my students and all, but I still feel conditioned to use all the other "sum" and "sort" functions. Damn you Microsoft Excel and your narcotic-like effect! You don't own me!!!

Gin o'clock

Well, the one positive to my long Friday schedule--teach, break, paleography class, break, teach--is that by the time I finish my afternoon tutorial I feel content to just abandon any hope of doing work for the rest of the afternoon or evening. (Class ends at 4:25, and the other TAs and I were joking that we should cut out five minutes early because we had a certain "appointment"...ah, grad students. Sometimes I wonder whose idea it was to put us in charge of teaching undergrads. Probably just the university's way of saving money since they know we'll work for shit wages.) So I come home and crack open the guacamole I made last night and pour myself a nice G&T to get my mind off anything related to mensural notation or clausulae or motets or all that other archaic shit that I intentionally avoided as an undergrad because I wasn't interested in that period of music. And this also means putting on some of that dreaded "popular music"--kiss my ass, Adorno, you don't know what you're dissing--in the form of the new Sansévérino CD which I bought a couple days ago in a music splurge. The album's swingingness kicks me in the pants, and it indulges my francophilia even though I can't quite follow all the argot.

So Mehldau and source-hunting and (ugh) more Adorno reading can wait until tomorrow. The real challenge is going to be generating a concise research proposal out of the Mehldau thing so I can submit it within EIGHTEEN days. I have the feeling I'll be doing some speculating into the wind and filling my bibliography with random Foucault texts that I hope I don't have to read. The more immediate concern is finding a place to watch the Sox/Yanks game tonight.

Cheers.

So would Al Gore be like Bill Buckner?

I'm not sure who should feel more doomed by this analogy: the Red Sox or the Democrats.

Department of no surprises

Bush has received donations from Steinbrenner and A-Rod. The amount of Satan's contributions has not yet been disclosed.

Things I wasn't considering while I was entering data this spring

"Music’s distance from me is rendered so palpably because it seems to promise a presence that can be felt directly. It shimmers with immediacy but remains utterly ungraspable, like the end of an asymptotic geometric curve, or one of the beautiful women on Star Trek that Captain Kirk hooks up with: every time the camera’s on her, they smudge a little Vaseline on the lens to give her that far-off, dreamy look."
--Brad Mehldau


I've spent the last few hours pondering a research proposal on Brad Mehldau, with special attention to the polemics in his writings. Can any relation be drawn between his prose and his music? Does his music sound "educated," and what does "educated" mean? Does he sound like a "white" jazz musician, and what does that mean? Why does his music sound like "contemporary jazz" even though most of the technical qualities (harmony, form, etc) sound decades old? And why do his interpretations of Radiohead songs kick so much ass?


Back to the library now to try to better articulate these questions and find some sources. More thoughts later.

No more late-night burritos for me

Last night I had this dream where someone handed me a newspaper with the banner headline "Bush re-elected." I panicked and ran out into some movie theater and I ran into John Kerry...but he was all fat and disheveled and unshaven and in some grungy flannel shirt.

Then I woke up and realized I had to teach secular monophony in one hour.

All-time greatest distraction for grad students

I know this has been around for a while, but I'm starting to fully appreciate its worth.

Hit refresh a few times.

Fifty Tracks reconsidered: a slightly more lucid review

Well I happened to tune in to CBC Radio Two this afternoon to catch the end of their countdown of the fifty greatest recorded songs of the twentieth century. And while I roll my eyes at the mere idea of yet another list—haven’t VH1 and Rolling Stone reached the point where they can do features on the fifty greatest lists of popular music?—I was especially baffled by what this list was out to prove. I missed the beginning of the show (or series) where the host attempts to forge a definition of what makes a song “essential,” though you can pick your own definition from Merriam-Webster which one is most applicable. According to the show’s website:

“Thousands of songs are released each year by thousands of artists in an ever expanding array of genres . . . it's been happening for decades and it's getting harder and harder to figure out what should be in your collection! How is a music lover, casual or devoted, to have any chance of knowing what to buy? What's good? What's going to last? How can a person find the music that matters?”

From this it sounds as though they’re trying to create something like a Norton Anthology of Western Pop Music that could be a tool to the squares (or to the aliens) who don’t know anything about this whole “pop music” thing. What a relief it is that CBC Radio has descended from the mountain with stone tablets of what should be in my record collection. And here I was using my own judgment for what CDs I should own.

Also: Technically, the above definition never precludes any examples of art music or non-Western music, though I wouldn’t expect to find Einstein on the Beach next to the Beach Boys on such a list. But somehow this list includes Louis Jordan but not Charlie Parker (or Miles or Coltrane or any bop), Lou Reed solo but not the Velvet Underground, two Motown-era songs that are neither by James Brown nor Marvin Gaye, and a Mary J. Blige entry over Dr. Dre. And nothing resembling heavy metal after the obligatory “Stairway to Heaven” selection?

As for the list itself, it was generated originally by “panelists,” then supplemented by a few audience write-ins. The final rankings were determined mostly (I think) by listener votes.

I realize that pissing on such a list without even trying to construct one of my own is a cop-out, but the blogosphere accommodates (nay, encourages) such armchair quarterbacking. So here’s the list according to the CBC and its panelists and listeners woven with my comments.

10) Chuck Berry, “Johnny B. Goode.” I’m not sure if I’d put it ahead of Elvis, but I’ll allow it.
9) Glen Miller, “In the Mood.” OK, it was wildly popular at the time. But I feel very comfortable in my decision to purchase Duke Ellington CDs rather than some of the White Man’s swing of the same era.
8) The Rolling Stones, “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction.” Perhaps not my own favorite Stones tune, but I won’t quibble.
7) Led Zeppelin, “Stairway to Heaven.” This is a perfect example of a band and a song that everyone thinks deserves to be highly ranked on such a list. As much as I love the band, I’ve never felt that “Stairway” is their best song. Such a myth gets perpetuated by ALL THESE GODDAM CLICHÉ LISTS.
6) H. Arlen/J. Garland, “Somewhere over the Rainbow.” Still a beautiful song, though I’d take Chet Baker or Keith Jarrett’s heartbreaking interpretations over the original.
5) Nirvana, “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” Damn right it belongs in the top ten, but it’s another song that just has that IMPORTANT label stamped all over it that people feel like it belongs on such a list without really knowing much else about the band or the album it was on. Case in point: The DJ who announced the song today bungled the pronunciation of Novaselic as though he were Dubya trying to say Abu Ghraib.
4) U2, “With or Without You.” Not my favorite U2 song, but it's the sort of song that BELONGS ON THIS LIST, DAMMIT. For that matter, The Joshua Tree is overrated and The Unforgettable Fire and War are underrated.
3) Bob Dylan, “Like a Rolling Stone.” This one I can’t dispute. It captures the artist at his best.
2) The Beatles, “In My Life.” I have a very ambivalent feeling toward this song. Sure it’s one of the band’s best, and thus one of the best ever. But on a personal level, its sentimentality is a little too obvious, like it’s aiming to be the song that can be played at high school proms for generations (as it was at mine). And maybe that’s a mark of a greatly great song, that its sentiment is lasting. For me though, the fact that it’s so universal makes it so impersonal. (See also: Brian Wilson lyrics.) Still, I struggle to think of a more deserving Beatles song.
1) John Lennon, “Imagine.” As above, I have a slight aversion to this song because of its openness and total fucking lack of subtlety. Combine that with the fact that, without the vocals, it’s bland. The song is almost an insult to my intelligence in its over-the-top drippiness. And yet…I pause and sigh and listen to it and imagine there’s no religion yadda yadda yadda…


Yeah. I’ve also been working on other thoughts related to the topic of sincerity (as opposed to irony) in recent popular music, but those will have to wait. I may even turn it into a research proposal if I can find enough academic sources.


And in other news, I just got my tickets to see the Pixies in November. Kick ass.

Q: Isn't it Ironic?

Tell me they did not just put Alanis fucking Morissette on the same list as "Smells like teen spirit" and "Paranoid Android"...


A: No, it's just retarded.