What distracts me from the blog

• I'm working on a story for WNIJ about the Khmer Rouge tribunals going on in Cambodia. Seems like a very international story for a DeKalb station to cover, but NIU is one of the nation's top schools for South Asian studies, so there are some people here who have helped gather evidence and historical documents in preparation for the tribunal. In the mean time, I've been reading up on the area's history and following all the tribunal proceedings on cambodiatribunal.org. Most people remember the genocide, if they remember it, from the film The Killing Fields. 
• Speaking of films that are hard to get through... I finally saw Hard Candy, in which Ellen Page plays a 14 year old girl who goes to a 30-something's house and spends an hour and a half... turning the tables so to speak. It's been a few days and I'm still thinking about the ending and all of its moral ambiguities.
• The past few years, I've found the best interviews I've read from musicians have been generally from older guys, which in rock and roll, usually means above 30. Call it what you will, but it's nice to hear from bands who put the lie to the idea that getting old means getting stale. Pitchfork recently featured video of the DeKalb-bound(!) Dinosaur Jr. as they record their new album. Can't wait to hear it... performed live at Otto's.

My life's "influential" records

Perhaps in an attempt to recreate the 25 things chain letter that swept Facebook a few weeks ago for music nerds, I've been tagged in a couple of "Top 15 albums" lists. I'm not sure why the number is what it is. Either way, I made whole package with pictures and blurbs, pairing albums together as they represented various eras of my short life. If you're my friend on facebook, you get to see read it. But for you blog readers, here's the list, without all the extra words and images.

• The Beach Boys - Endless Summer
• The Beatles - Help!
• Gin Blossoms - New Miserable Experiences
• Ace of Base - The Sign
• Smashing Pumpkins - Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness
• Nirvana - Nevermind
• Korn - Follow the Leader
• Limp Bizkit - Significant Other
• Led Zeppelin - IV
• Radiohead - Kid A
• Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
• The Arcade Fire - Funeral
• Sufjan Stevens - Illinois
• The National - Boxer
• Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago

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!

They've touched many, and soon they will be gone.

It's so sad to hear that a great Chicago independent label, one that was celebrating it's 25 years of survival in 2006, is closing its doors. Pitchfork has more. I'm going to adjust the playlist today...

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."

All Consuming / No Creating

While I try to write a commentary marking the one-year anniversary of the shooting at my alma mater for the 15th or 16th times, here are some things I've found pleasantly distracting:

• Looks like I beat Salon.com's Robert Lanham to a commentary on the "25 Random Things" craze on Facebook. However, he's more eloquent than me, describing how cynical and annoyed he was by the trend at first, but eventually warming up to it. 

I didn't join Facebook, after all, to be anonymous, incurious or left alone. Link

Slate.com is also looking for the origin this trend.

• Lily Allen's new album, It's Not Me, It's You is pretty fabulous. For now, it can be heard in its entirety on her myspace.
• ESPN's Rick Reilly says being a "fan" watching Bruce Springsteen on the field of the Super Bowl is one of the worst jobs in all of sports. Link.
• Friday night, instead of playing the scheduled "Ghost of Bobby Dunbar" episode of This American Life, technical difficulties caused Chicago Public Radio to switch to the more delightful, "Godless America" episode. Act 2 is priceless
• Coming up with themed double features. Watching Frost/Nixon makes me want to watch Good Night, and Good Luck with a room of Journalism students. Earlier I recommended my friend rent Hitchcock's Notorious and Y Tu Mama Tabien for a sexually explicit (That's what they said about Notorious. Go figure.) night of scandal.
• Trying to read The Great Gatsby, but getting distracted by Garfield Minus Garfield and Hellboy.
• Updating this blog.

Making the Facebook 25 (26) an even 30

This is old news for those who come to this blog via my facebook page, but for my group of friends, a chain-letter-type note has been sweeping through the social networking site like wildfire. First, one person makes a random list of 25 things about themselves, and I can't emphasize the random aspect of those things. They can range from interests, obscure likes and dislikes, childhood memories, dreams of the future, opinions or the lack thereof. Then the person tags 25 of their friends, asking them to post their own list of 25 random things.

Not since I was in middle school, just learning how to use (and in some cases, avoid) email and chat rooms has a chain-letter so swept up my friends. And I can't say enough how much I approve of this trend. Reading some of my friend's more hilarious tales of childhood embarrassment and quirky, illogical dislikes has been a real treat. Because it's so open ended, people have let lose and pulled out some really good stuff. 

But since most of my friends who are swayed my peer pressure have already posted their list, it seems that this era of sharing is coming to a close. And since I like writing about myself too much, here are some more list-worthy facts that came to me after I initially posted it.

27. I've become two post-college cliches recently. First, I saw an old video of myself performing in high school, and all I could think of was how big and long and stupid my hair looked. This was before I had a beard too. The second post-college cliche is now I'm self-conscious about my weight and waistline. In college? I could eat a whole pizza every week. Now I'm trying to cut soda out of my diet (again) and exercise. And it's not fun.

28. I can relate almost anything - anything - to a quote from The Simpsons or Mystery Science Theater 3000.

29. Speaking of MST3k, sometimes I like to throw in obscure references to a conversation, just to see if anyone picks up on it. For example; when I worked at my college newspaper, and someone who continuously criticize a co-worker, I'd say, "He's like the Snowball on our Animal Farm." It was so satisfying when a couple of my colleagues looked at me with that, "Did you just say what I thought you said?" look that said they got it immediately.

30. From my little brother: "[Andy] is so indecisive, he has to flip a coin." It's true, but only for superfluous decisions, like coke or sprite with dinner. "...Since he is an English major, the hard part is finding a coin to flip." Truth.

And I'm back to listening to music like I did in Oxford.

I wrote an essay a while back for my Creative Nonfiction writing class about losing my iPod - which for someone with an, at times, unhealthy obsession with the device, was a big deal and made me consider my relationship with music and whether or not it was cutting me off from other worthwhile experiences. Within that essay, there's a description on how I had to consume music, without the iPod, while I was studying abroad at Oxford (pictured above).

When I was in England, I had a 200 gigabyte external hard drive full of music and a laptop with an 80 gigabyte hard drive. [...] [W]ith a limited number of electrical outlets, I had to listen to music is a more methodical fashion. I couldn’t just click shuffle, press play and let it go. I had to decide what I wanted to listen to and retrieve it from the external hard drive. At the time I write this, the album I consider to be the year’s best [Boxer by the National, which means I wrote this in 2007] was fully discovered in this fashion. I had it on the computer before I left the US, but it would get lost in the shuffle and just be text and an image on my computer screen. But by selectively listening instead of gorging, I grew into a deeper relationship with the albums I loved and had a clearer understanding of what was good or bad to me.

Now I'm experiencing a bit of deja vu. My eMachine desktop computer, which I've had for about four years now, decided to fry itself and die a few days ago. Thank God I bought a MacBook I thought. And thank God I still had that external hard drive. But since I bought the Mac for portability and to run sound editing and design software, I'm not about to just dump everything onto my iTunes at once. So it's back to picking out albums one at a time from the hard drive.

And that's a good thing, because it means all the new stuff I've been putting off will get heard, and some CDs I've been neglecting will be rediscovered. The desktop's going to get fixed and upgraded as soon as I get the money to buy a new motherboard and such, but I don't know I'm going just have all my music back up at once. I know I've said this to my friends several times that I was going to follow Tom Ewing's seventh Poptimist column for Pitchfork and delete everything and start new. It's always a few months before I decide to cave a reload it back. But maybe this time I'll go a bit longer and discover something different. Or at least listen to what I have with fresh ears.

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.