Sean Penn probably deserved it, but...

Photo: Chris Carlson, AP

I still haven't seen many of the films nominated in last night's Academy Awards, including Milk and The Wrestler. So I can't really tell you who I thought should have won any of the awards last night. But what I do know is what the press and other more-informed, wider published critics predicted, and five of the six big categories were unsurprisingly what they predicted; Kate Winslet avoided being the Oscar's Susan Lucci, Penelope Cruz said something in Spanish, the Joker got the last laugh, Slumdogs cleaned up the top prizes.

But what of the Best Actor award? That was the big mystery of the night. Would they go with the heavily hyped comeback of Mickey Rourke? Or would they get topical and give a third award to Sean "Commie-Homo-Loving-Son-of-a-Gun" Penn? Most people were placing their hopes in Rourke, because his pitch is the great story - the fuck-up who comes away with gold. He doesn't wear the whole "now I'm on the straight and narrow" suit that convincingly, but that's what makes him so cool. He's this mad dog who could potentially get the highest acting award in the world.

But of course, the award didn't go to him. Sean Penn took his third gold plated statue home for playing the real-life assassinated homosexual politician Harvey Milk. It shouldn't be that surprising in theory; when given the choice, the Academy seems to prefer an actor who plays a person based on real life. Only four of the best actor winners this decade have won playing original characters, this as opposed to eight in the previous decade.

But there's another precedent worth noting - Penn's first Best Actor award in 2004 for his role in Mystic River. Because I haven't seen that film yet either, I can't really say with any critical honesty whether or not I thought he deserved that award. That's really aside the point. But look who his main competition was that year. Bill Murray for Lost In Translation. Here was a comic actor, a guy who made a career as a smart-ass turning more introspective with age, in a movie with My Bloody Valentine on the soundtrack. Johnny Depp channeling Keith Richards not withstanding, Murray was like Rourke, the dark horse with a shot at gold - the cool nominee (or for you Depp fans, the cool nominee who actually had a shot of winning.)

But then they gave the award to Penn. What does one make of this? It'd be a stretch to call Penn a safe choice. He's one of the most well-respected actors in Hollywood, but he also has a reputation of being a passionate risk-taker, which some might call cool in its own right. But not as cool, because he can be a bit too serious about his art. Maybe that's why he'd get picked over the cool guys. Who knows what sort of irreverent places Rourke and Murray could have taken the award?

Or he could just be a better actor getting awards based solely on the merit his work. I know, crazy!

Some more words about Sgt. Pepper.

You wouldn't know it looking outside this morning, but yesterday in St. Charles, it was unseasonably warm - 60s! In February! - one of those days that make people forget about that whole climate change nonsense because it's such a nice day. And now it's raining and overcast. 

Anyway, the first warm day of the season is always an important day, as everyone cleans the winter cobwebs from their mind, stretch their legs and enjoy the outdoors like they will never come again. For me, I always place a special spot for that first album I play as I go out into the sunshine. With everyone's mood on the rise, the sunniest pop record just sounds sunnier.

While in the past, I've relied on Chutes Too Narrow by the Shins to usher in spring, this year, I didn't dig too deep at all. Out of the blue, I had the song "Fixing a Hole," in my head. And that was that. I'm going to listen to Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, I thought. I hadn't pulled that CD out in a long time.

There's not much more that can be said about the album's influence and artistic successes, but something struck me as I listened to it on my way to work. For such a monolithic, seismic album, it felt very light, almost weightless. Like most people of my generation, the Beatles were already a done deal by the time we could comprehend what music was. I'm one of countless people raised on their records - I had all the words to Help! memorized by the time I was six. When I first learned to play guitar, Beatles songs were musts. The band has become so engrained into the fabric of popular consciousness, it's almost like they're not even there. A Beatles song is just a part of the air.

Any other contender for my personal favorite album of all time feels far more weighted down with purpose and meaning by contrast. Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and Radiohead's Kid A, my high school touchstones, recall a specific time and place and grand emotion.

Sgt. Pepper might recall, at best, a ride in the mini-van to the library or church as a child. The songs are so engrained into the mind that it doesn't even register that four English guys bothered to sit down, write them and record them in such a specific way. It just sounds so effortless and natural, like they've always been there and always will be. The Beatles are a modern equivalent to those old folk and blues standards that artists would just play and reinterpret over and over again.

I never thought I'd say this...

... but at last night's 51st Annual Grammy Awards, Coldplay beat Radiohead. And I'm not just talking about the number of awards they won. Both bands performed, and if I were judging it like a Battle of the Bands, I'm sorry my-favorite-band, but the ones often called "Radiohead for your Mom" impressed me a bit more.

For one thing, despite what critics have said, I've never had any kind of hatred or even dislike for Coldplay. I might have been bored after awhile. I might have called them too simplistic and said that they have more ambition than talent to friends. But it's hard for me to hate Chris Martin and company when they've got good enough taste ('80s U2, Kraftwerk, Bob Dylan, Brian Eno) and self-depreciating qualities - just check out that featured interview Chris Martin gave Rolling Stone last year that I find them kind of endearing. They know that deep in their heart of hearts, they're nothing too special. Hell, they even admitted while accepting an award their wardrobe was blatantly nicked from Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. 

But critics be damned, they still reach for that "biggest band in the world" status with more boyish intensity than one would think acceptable after a certain level of success. So when the band performed a medley of "Lost+," featuring a walk-on cameo from Jay-Z, and "Viva La Vida," two songs that even a harsh Coldplay critic admitted to liking, they played like they still needed to prove themselves. Considering the vast majority of Grammy performances are like watching artists bask in their own glitzy greatness, Coldplay still reached for the rafters and were the only performers that night who finished with a gloss of sweat. Unless Martin pulls out some earth-shatteringly poignant lyrics on his next album and comes away with some Pazz and Jop poll honors, the Grammys are top of the pile for Coldplay. It looked like they weren't going to take that for granted.

Radiohead, on the other hand, are already one of the biggest bands in the world without major awards or big hits. Just huge, almost unanimous critical acclaim. To see them at the Grammys was certainly a strange thing to see. I remember when they were beat by Steely Dan for Album of the Year in 2001, back when Kid A was in the process of changing my life, and I was livid. Since then, Radiohead were above appearing at this awful, petulant award show. But here they were, nominated for Album of the Year again, and scheduled to perform.

But the performance I think was hindered from the start. First, it was "15 Steps," not a band song, but certainly not a favorite from In Rainbows. I'm listening to "House of Cards" right now. That would have been a better choice... but that's just me. Second, it was "15 Steps," with added percussion from the USC Marching Trojans. I don't know why, but whoever schedules the music performances on the Grammys loves those marching bands. The Trojans played fine, but it was a bit strange to see Radiohead embrace such a typical Grammy performance gimmick.

Did I say Radiohead? I meant Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood. Unless the rest of the band was performing behind the Trojans' stand or out of the camera's eye, those two guys were the only members of Radiohead I saw performing. Just like Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend can't truly call themselves the Who when two of the members have died, I wouldn't call them Radiohead just because the two most visible members are onstage. Call me a snob, but it's just not the same thing.

Of course, Thom and Jonny weren't bad onstage. Thom's dancing inspired one of the best live-blog quotes of the night, "No one on the corner's got swagger like Yorke."* But his performance straddled the line of just having his usual fun and sneering at the opulent fat-cats of the music industry that he's so criticized throughout his career. And as much as I want to spin that as an artistic win for my favorite band, I can't help but feel they weren't nearly as fun to watch as their younger, wimpier brethren.

To be fair, I don't think this is something that could be repeated, that is unless Coldplay magically pulls out a masterpiece and Radiohead get really old and really stale. On their own terms, at their own shows, Radiohead has mopped the floor with Coldplay. And yeah, I think In Rainbows should take more awards than Viva La Vida and Raising Sand. But when it came to bowing to the hand that feeds, Coldplay was more the lovable puppy to Radiohead's cat.

----

*By the way, the "Rap Pack" performance was awesome, if only to watch M.I.A. dancing with her incredibly pregnant belly. That baby is going to be awesome.

Other great moments of the night were Lil Wayne's solo performance, Kanye West on his best behavior with Estelle, and the Buddy Guy/B.B. King/John Mayer/Keith Urban tribute to Bo Diddley. 

Some honorable mentions go to the faces of the Jonas Brothers after Katy Perry performed "I Kissed a Girl." Those guys have chastity rings? Pssh, the younger brothers looked like they were looking at a Playboy magazine. I'd like to think that at least one of them said to themselve, "I could totally hit that..."

Finally, while nearly all the jokes ranged from awful to awkward, Late Late Show host Craig Ferguson managed this utter gem.

"Twenty years ago, when I was a drummer of a punk band in Glasgow, if you had told me that I'd someday be onstage at the Grammys, I would have called you crazy. I also would have vomited on your shoes and stabbed you."

The Office might have jumped the shark last night

Last night's post-Super Bowl episode of The Office perplexed me to the point where all the nagging thoughts I've had about whether or not the show is past its peak started to overtake my brain with a resounding yes, it has.

To recap, Dwight (Rainn Wilson) lights a fire in the office because his co-workers weren't paying attention to his lecture on fire safety. It causes panic and pandemonium of the ridiculous kind, including broken windows, the tossing of a cat and Andy (Ed Helms) shouting, "The fire is shooting at us!" It was an inspired, over the top and ridiculous bit, all while Dwight, at his most machiavellian, trying to condescend and take charge. As the scene ends, Stanley (Leslie David Baker) is on the floor, suffering a heart attack.

For some Cardinal fans, it was the perfect bit of hilarity to follow a great game. But something rang false about this scene for me. It crossed a line of insanity that show had only skirted at this point. "The only way for this to end," I thought to myself, "is that Michael or Dwight will get fired. Or seriously punished." I figured that'd be a pretty big plot point to coincide with it being a Super Bowl-following program.

But they didn't get punished. Both Michael and Dwight got a stern talking to from the higher-ups in New York, but aside from a half-assed letter of apology, they're still running strong. In fact, they got sent to New York twice, after Dwight cut the face off of a CPR test dummy.

Of course this isn't the first time a character on this show has gotten away with a fireable offense. It happens at least twice a show on good nights. But this was the point where I think the show went a little too far, with all the humor based on the bit's extremities. It felt like something advertisers would have liked to pitch as "Dwight's biggest office blunder yet!" That the show much more silly than the depressingly realistic British counterpart (which I haven't seen yet...) is one of it's strengths, something that helped it break out of Ricky Gervais's shadow and become it's own beast. But like The Simpsons or Family Guy, when you base your humor on how much batshit crazy stuff you can get away with, you're not saying anything funny. You're just pulling off a stunt. And anyone could do that.

Perhaps I'm taking the show too seriously. This season, there have been moments of clarity, where Michael Scott's bosses have turned a blind eye towards the unethical and inept behavior because their business is somehow profitable. Perhaps this is just an extension of what they're willing to accept in order to keep the company afloat. Or many it's one big homage to Christopher Durang. I suppse that maybe this could be addressed in a few more weeks. But it's getting to the point where I'm beginning to think it all should have ended like Arrested Development - three seasons and finish.

On a lighter and not entirely unrelated note, here's the best Super Bowl commercial of the night.

Musicalosophy: LP, CD, MP3? It makes no difference to me

It's been more than a year since a friend of mine at the Northern Star wrote an article originally pitched as a debate about whether CDs or vinyl LPs were the best format for music. Unfortunately, the final product wasn't so much a debate as it was an advertisement for all things vinyl. Since then, I feel like there hasn't been an honest debate about the merits and both formats - and of digital MP3 files. Despite what advertisers and labels will say, I think that none of the three are all that much better than their competition.

First some disclosure; when I buy music, I prefer to have it on vinyl and on MP3, because then I can be the obsessive nerd and log it onto my last.fm account. (I wish I were kidding.) But I am not really someone who buys vinyl because I think it sounds better. Quite frankly, I think people who say that records sound better are kidding themselves - or have a very expensive system and treat each slab of vinyl like it's one of the original copies of the Ten Commandments. I have a simple $100 turntable that I bought because it came with a USB connection to transfer the albums into MP3s. When I first played a record on it, Sufjan Steven's Greetings From Michigan, I was actually a bit annoyed by the hissing and popping noises that clearly weren't on the CD.

So why bother with vinyl? In some cases, it's purely aesthetic. A wall of records just looks better than a wall of CDs I think. I insisted on buying The National's 2007 album Boxer on vinyl because the larger format did more justice to its beautiful cover. In another equally shallow case, the vinyl LP is more of a collectible, a badge of geekiness (or coolness, depending on how you characterize it). It's like the joke. "How many hipsters does it take to screw in a light bulb?" "Oh, I have that joke on vinyl..."

But in another less stupid case, vinyl subtly encourages a more active listening experience. Instead of just clicking a mouse along iTunes or skipping around a CD or iPod in the car, you have to stand up and put it on the turntable, place the needle down and enjoy. Putting on a record means I'm paying just a little bit more attention to whatever is on, reflecting on it more as I take it off the turntable, put it back in its sleeve and put in it's designated spot on my shelf. And in this digital age of instant gratification and knowledge, anything that can slow down the consideration of art is a good thing.

Still, this should not diminish the conveniences of CDs and MP3s, and there are many. You can pack more CDs into moving boxes. Ripping a CD to a computer is way more easy and intuitive than a record. You could try hooking up a turntable to your car, but that's probably just asking for a few scratched LPs. That's why I'm glad so many labels are wise about offering free MP3 downloads with vinyl purchases. Even they know the record can't be everywhere. And how can a format really be the best if it's so tethered to a location?

Also, if I just want to hear one song, if I have one of the deep cuts from Boxer stuck in my head, I could pull out the record and place the needle over that specific song and hear that last few seconds of whatever came before. Or I could just double click the song on my iTunes. Some would argue that the sound quality would be different and the experience would be different. I won't argue that a record sounds different - and at times better - than a CD or MP3. But there differences are minute to my ears and don't really change my opinion on the song.

Then there's the matter of price. If there's one thing my Northern Star friend got absolutely wrong in his original endorsement is that records were more affordable than CDs. If you're getting a short, split EP, yes. If it's a used record, sure. But all used music is cheaper than new. Look online at an indie label's mail order site and compare the differences between a new CD and a new LP. You're looking at an added dollar or so to the price, at least.

Plus, there is the added trouble of an album being stretched across two records. Several artists and critics has gotten wistful over the glory days of the vinyl album where all records were under 45 minutes long. But with the advent of the CD, the album length got extended. I'm not hear to argue about whether or not that was a good thing. If it's a good album with a clear vision and trajectory, it can go on as long as it pleases. But for the 50+ minute album, it means four sides of vinyl with maybe two or three songs on each side. I won't buy the 11 song Yankee Hotel Foxtrot by Wilco on vinyl because of it's divisions. Actually, I won't buy it because I refuse to be the guy who buys his entire collection over and over on whatever new format he fancies. I learned to love that album as a complete, uninterrupted 50 or so minute experience. And a double LP of that album costs around $30, as opposed to a CD which likely costs half as much. And the MP3s? An easy $10 on iTunes... that is if you're even paying for downloaded music.

Which brings me to the MP3's greatest asset - availability. Thanks to pirated music, the whole concept of "out of print" has become a thing of the past. When I go to my favorite record store, I can't find Drums and Wires, Mclusky Do Dallas, Time (the Revelator), and Merriweather Post Pavillion on the shelfs. But I can find them on my iTunes, from the comforts of my own home, and still sounds good. It isn't the same as having something in your hands with liner notes and mass. But before I can care about those things, I need to like the music first, and MP3s are this generations version of the radio. It's the primary way I discover music, a simple, affordable weightless file that has to potential to wring much more money from my wallet in ways of physical purchases and concert tickets.

And in the end, the format doesn't really make the music. You can show me a copy of, say, "Rock and Roll" by the Velvet Underground and play it on vinyl, CD, MP3, and what the hell? a cassette tape too. Sure they'll be differences in fidelity and clarity and subtle details found here and there, but above all that, it's just a damn good song being played, and I'll probably want to dance to it no matter how it sounds or what it's playing from.

Animal Collective fans, settle down.

For critics, January and December are relatively ignorable months. If anything high profile is released, it's almost inevitable that it will be some kind of disappointment (see: Worlds Apart and First Impressions of Earth). And for every good album released at the start of the year? If someone remembers it enough to put on their list come November/December, it's likely that it will be perceived as one of those underrated gems. The critic will say if more people had gone back ten months ago and heard it again, it'd stand up to the big hype of October. 

Leave it to Animal Collective to already punch through those pre-conceived notions of how a January album should be heard. As of now, there isn't a metacritic.com score for their ninth album Merriweather Post Pavillion, but here's a few scores already published online.

• Pitchfork Media : 9.6 out of 10.0
• Spin Magazine : 4 out of 5
• Paste : 91 out of 100
• Eye Weekly : 5 out of 5

And it's not just the scores that are causing a buzz in the comment sections. Currently, Stereogum's most commented story asks the question, "Is Merriweather Post Pavillion the best album of 2009?"

Which brings me to the titular point of this entry. Settle down people. Yes, MPP is a damn good album from a damn good band. But I'd bet that as the year progresses, the enthusiasm on this album dies down. And that's a good thing. There's plenty of music set to come out this year. Who knows what hotshot debut album will be this year's Vampire/Foxes? It'd be a shame if another masterpiece was overshadowed this year because critics had already placed their chips on Animal Collective's. 

I'm not saying MPP can't be the album of the year. But saying so when the year is barely a week old is a bit like saying "Palin 2012!" on November 14, 2008. For now, let's just enjoy the album (especially "My Girls") and worry about it's context in the year of music in say... November. 

Speaking of mixes...

Sound Opinions, my favorite public radio show, is showcasing a couple of year-end mixes on this week's broadcast. But what's interesting about this episode is not so much the music, but the methods and motivations behind each mix. Chicago Sun-Times critic Jim Derogatis, considers his mixes to be simple collections of songs he likes, songs he didn't get a chance to talk about on the radio. On the other hand, Chicago Tribune critic Greg Kot compiles his mixes with a bigger purpose and takes a time ordering the track list so that it fits in with whatever overarching theme the mix has. [Note: Apparently Derogatis is trying to be Kot this year and making a themed mix too. How about that?]

It got me thinking; how do other people make mixes? I suppose most people relate more to Derogatis - just group all the good songs together in a playlist, burn a CD and go. But I think I relate more to Kot. I've never made a mix that tried to tell a story per se, but I do take time (too much some might argue) with the play list. I'd like to make the mix of my favorite songs- or songs that I think the receiver would like - work like a good album, with each song following another for a purpose. I try not to have two similar sounding songs next to each other. If I'm going to fill an 80-90 minute CD-R, I'd like it to be varied and weird as a classic double-album, yet have a kind of sonic flow, where one sound or mood sensibly moves toward another. I'm not looking to make a big statement about me or my taste with my mix. I just want to find a balance between variety and cohesion, and that takes time. 

How do you make your mixes?