Breaking news!

A former member of the Cleveland Cavaliers will be joining the Miami Heat for the upcoming (in November, that is) NBA season! This easily recognizable NBA veteran couldn't quite reach the elusive goal of an NBA Championship during his years in Cleveland, but this guy is so good that he managed to be an NBA All-Star without even playing college basketball! Yes, that's right, Zydrunas Ilgauskas is now a Heat!

After all, what goes better with this...



...than this?

As that last one make a brief mention of, soccer (there's nothing wrong with calling it soccer in this country) has really grabbed the attention of the world lately. Well, it always has the attention of the world, but right now it has the attention of the world's "leading" country. As the most populous country in this year's World Cup, the US theoretically should have the most support. However, this seems to have only been the case very recently...since Wednesday morning to be exact.

Landon Donovan's goal was truly one of those watershed moments that makes sports so relevant. Yes, it is just a game and yes, it was being played literally around the globe from the US population, but people are looking for something to be happy and proud about these days. Even though oil still gushes into the Gulf of Mexico and generals are still being replaced in Afghanistan, the US has found a reason for this.

Just as ABC's Wild World of Sports extolled, with the thrill of victory comes the agony of defeat. The World Cup has provided striking examples of that as well. To whit:

-North Korean players potentially being sent to work in state-owned coal mines upon their return home after a terrible performance in South Africa?

-The French national team returning as a disgrace to their country and potentially subject to physical violence at the hands of their countrymen?

So yes, the US is riding high right about now, so its important to get this posted before their next match tomorrow against Ghana. All those skeptics that thought soccer was nothing more than 90 minutes of pretty boys not scoring any goals have been trumped by a pretty boy scoring a goal after 90 minutes of play had already elapsed without a single goal. Everyone is OK with that right now and that itself is OK right now.

Finally, let it be known that while soccer might not be able to clean up the Gulf or find Osama, it is trying to start with domestic issues, although with somewhat mixed results.

Signs you're getting old:

1. True Blood comes on at 8pm, yet True Blood comes on too late because its a Sunday night.

2. Guilt causes you to go for a run in 95 degree weather, even though the guilt was brought on by something as mundane as almonds.

3. Sunday morning trips to the grocery store are quite fulfilling.

4. A perfectly good weekend night can be soured because you insist on checking work email.

5. Hanging out with your boss past midnight is an acceptable way to spend a Friday night.

6. You decide to spend a sunny afternoon watching exclusively German-language films on Netflix Instant.

7. The NBA Finals are over and you could care less, even though the world would be a better place if the Lakers didn't win and validate the celebrity groupies that make watching their games feel like an episode of Access Hollywood.

7b. You know, despite this year's strong ratings, the NBA Finals used to be amazing. It fits with the theme of this list/entry to say that things just aren't like they were back in the day. For pure excitement and showmanship, Kobe just isn't Jordan and Rajon Rondo is really the only guy on the Celtics that is remotely interesting. If only Pau Gasol played on a different team, he could be in the discussion for favorite NBA player.

8. The World Cup is incredibly interesting, but not necessarily because of your past or present interest in soccer, but the political and socio-economic dynamic at play. Not to mention the fact that you can wake up at 7am and watch it live.

9. You voluntarily go into work on a Saturday morning and actually think of the benefits more so than the negatives of doing so.

10. You blog about this sort of stuff.

You know, with such unfortunate events transpiring around the globe, such as the Gulf oil leak and the deaths of Gary Coleman and Dennis Hopper, it is nice to get a nice deep breath of fresh air. Today's breath of fresh air came courtesy of the greatest baseball team in existence.

The odds were not looking good early on. The Indians have admittedly, yet not surprisingly, been struggling quite a bit this season. They were on the road for a 4-game series. At Yankee Stadium. Against the Yankees, obviously. The Yankees have by far the highest payroll in baseball and one of the best records in the league to boot. The Indians are far behind in both areas.

To add insult to injury (or whatever), the starting pitcher was the Yankees was none other than CC Sabathia, the former Indians ace that, after a half-season layover with Milwaukee, cashed in his excellent years in Cleveland with a ridiculous contract in New York. So, as it stood, the entire Indians' roster makes $60 million a year, while their former teammate, who they were facing, makes about $25 million a year by himself.

Anyway, matters got worse. Already trailing in the 3rd inning, Cleveland's young starting pitcher, David Huff, was struck in the left side of the head by a line drive off the bat of none other than Alex Rodriguez, whose salary of $33 million a year dwarfs even Sabathia's. Huff went straight to the ground, where he lay motionless for several minutes, before being taken off the field on a stretcher, then straight to the hospital.

Well, if you've read this far, surely you can expect what happened next, warranting this entry. Yep, the Yankees scored a couple of runs as a result of Huff's misfortune, then added 6 more runs the next inning and took control of the game...

But, even though the Yankees' lead held at 10-4 in the 6th inning, it was nothing that 9 consecutive runs couldn't overcome. And just as David Huff came out OK after a negative CT scan at the hospital, so did the Indians and their 13-11 victory.

And for just one day in just one ballpark, all was right with the world.

Here's the first installment of a song-by-song breakdown of a relatively new album. Call it a review if you like. First up is the debut from Southampton, England's Band of Skulls, Baby Darling Doll Face Honey.



1. Light of the Morning - this is the first song and probably the most well-known song on the album, if any of the songs could be classified as "well known". It's definitely a catchy song and does a good job of setting the table for the rest of the album. It sounds like it should be in a TV car commercial, which it is. Pontiac, maybe?

2. Death by Diamond and Pearls - So yeah, by this point, if you haven't picked up on a similarity between this band's sound and Jack White's various bands', you're not listening. It's not a blatant rip off or anything, but definitely present. Be it the vocal styles, the loose and gritty guitars or the prominent drum pounding, it's there.

3. I Know What I Am - Ok, a lot going on here. This song is sassy and while that's OK, this definitely sounds like a song that could get old fast. There's some female vocals entering the picture. None of these people sound British, but they are. The chorus has a very catchy hook and almost sounds disco-ish. Yeah, this song differs from the first two, but not necessarily in a good way.

4. Fires - Ah, so there's the album title in the first line of the song. Kinda strange name that might could have been improved upon. "If you bring the water, I'll bring the matches...'cause we are fires in the night." Not really sure what that means, but it sounds really great in that really great anthemic way. This song does that loud/soft juxtaposition more than any of the others so far and it works quite well. This is easily the best song on the album so far and will probably stay that way through the end.

5. Honest - Female lead vocals and a legitimate softer/slower song. This sorts sounds like a completely different band at this point. That is usually seen as a good thing, but it throws off cohesion a little. This song actually sounds like Marketa Irglova's songs with The Swell Season. That and somber singing girl songs in musicals...like Les Mis or something. It sounds like it's being sung by a girl alone in a garden (or maybe a fire escape), looking at the stars at night.

6. Patterns - More the sass. There's a weird counting thing going on that plays in the "pattern" theme of the song. The dance beats are automatically catchy, but it really does border on 1970s disco at times and that's just not very comforting.

7. Hollywood Bowl - Yeah, the disco-y thing is back and must just be a part of their sound. Since "Fires" has none of that and is easily the best song, maybe they could get away from that. This song has a lot of that "rock n roll lifestyle" element in it. Seems like a lot of innuendo and sleaziness going on. Those "hey"'s are surely quite a hit during a live performance. The end of the song takes on a sort of jazzy/bluesy sound and then rocks out, which is fairly redeeming. Might should have pulled that out sooner.

8. Bomb - A ticking clock starts this song because it's called "Bomb". Not very clever. The song isn't terribly clever either, but doesn't sound bad...except when the ticking clock returns. The album definitely has a lot of guitars in it, which is nice.

9. Impossible - Pretty unremarkable whining at the beginning, until it starts to sound like Queen, which is pretty fun. More nonsensical lyrics, though, like "I am a man 'cause you said I am...Yeah". Thankfully no disco beats on this one and some of those "textures" that seem to often be mentioned in album reviews.

10. Blood - Swampy blues that sounds like it should be on an episode of True Blood. The female vocals seem much more variant than the male vocals on this album. The male vocals just sound like a variation on Jack White all the way through, while the female mixes it up and can't quite be pegged as easily.

11. Dull Gold Heart - This sounds like it should be sung at the Ryman. The album is definitely all over the place, but the good moments outweigh the bad by far. If they can just stay away from the disco dance beat sass, they should be fine. If the whole album could sound like the conclusion of this song, this could be album of the year.

12. Cold Fame - Yes, the epic closer and it's quite epic, as debut albums go. Starts off with a smoky lounge singer thing, but then gets back to some of that "Fires" sound that works so well. More "clever" lyrics with "I know my place, but it don't know me". What does it actually mean for your place to not "know you"? It's a little disconcerting because of the repetition of what sounds like "Cocaine in my veins, it's OK because I know it's the best for me". Clearly, given the name of the song, "cocaine" and "cold fame" sounds too much alike. Regardless, the echoing harmonies work here quite well

Overall, a solid debut. Actually, more than solid. It's pretty good and shouldn't be something that grows stale quickly. That might be where the variety of the album comes in handy. If you like guitars, almost equal parts male/female vocals and almost a little too much sass, you could really like this album Even if you don't like the sass, there's more than enough to make this a worthwhile listen.

Ugh, you probably want a number to quantify this review, right? Well, you won't get tenth-of-a-point precision like on Pitchfork or a 100-point scale like on Paste. How about a 0-10 scale with half-point increments? Does that work?

Let's go with 8/10. Could have been higher.

Best of London, April-May 2010:

Cadbury Cream Egg McFlurry. Note the sugary sweet deliciousness that is the "yolk":


The Hole in the Wall, 5 Mepham Street, Waterloo, London:



Unfortunately, dinner had already been eaten before this was discovered. Fortunately, dinner was great and cameras exist:



Without question, the absolute highlight of the trip:

The desire to finish something can lead a person to do strange things. Be it spent finishing the first season of a rather creepy TV show or making headway on some rather exciting job-related tasks, time can just slip away on a Wednesday night.

Once enough time slips by, Wednesday night becomes Thursday morning and Thursday morning becomes another day at work.

It's nice how life allows everyone to finish things on a regular basis. Everyone gets to finish a day, a week, a year, etc. Unfortunately, that is hardly enough to satisfy that urge that leads to Dexter nights and Phase I nights. People like to set out a course for themselves, then attempt to navigate it. If they're successful, it's very affirming. If not, regret and self-doubt take over.

So what will it be? Sleepiness, apparently.

It's April Fools Day. Sometimes fun things come about on this day, but usually it's annoying. A laugh is a good thing, but scaring/worrying the beegees out of someone is less noble. Regardless, Happy April Fools Day to all. Was that shred of friendliness an AFD trick? The world may never know.

Regardless, here's something fun from AFD2010.

And, just to balance that, here's something that is unfortunately not a part of AFD.

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?, Afterword

Point...
Counterpoint...

All's fair.

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?, Part II

Another recent release, Mumford & Sons' Sigh No More, illustrates the shortcomings of a Pitchfork review. Personal preferences aside, it's hard to respect a review that seems more interested in crafting an elaborate allegory than actually exploring the merits of the music itself. Before anything else is mentioned, the review sets out to deride the name of the band. Sure, Mumford & Sons is not a great name, but Pitchfork never found it necessary to dissect the names of Hunx & His Punx, Dinowalrus, Let's Wrestle, New Young Pony Club, or Sunburned Hand of Man in reviews of those act's recent releases. What gives?

So yeah, back to the allegory. The fact that the frontman/songwriter of the band (whose last name is Mumford, by the way) decided to name his band Mumford & Sons, is clearly his way of trying to garner a sense of authenticity and compare himself/his music to family-owned businesses in real small towns run by real people for generations. Right? To be such a simple-minded rip-off artist, as the review suggests, Marcus Mumford sure does craft elaborate schemes when it comes to naming his band! Is it possible that a fairly lame, yet completely innocuous, name got stuck on his act, whether by his own doing or by someone else and he just went with it? Nevermind that Pitchfork calls its annual music festival in Chicago the, wait for it, Pitchfork Music Festival.

As for the music (the point, right?), by "providing value-added products at discount prices", Mumford & Sons have managed to poach material from Fleet Foxes...and Avett Brothers...and Kings of Leon...and Keane...and Gomez. Seriously? Can you really say a band is unoriginal when you cite that many different influences? It seems like the ability to pull together a hybrid of so many bands with so many different origins might actually be a good, diverse thing. Maybe?

The elements of those five bands cited include "group harmonies", "exaggerated earnestness", "rock 'real'-ness", "second-hand drama" and "insistent rusticisms". Since when did music with harmonies (a core musical element), earnestness (believability seems to be a good thing), "real"-ness (whatever that is, would "fake"-ness be better?), drama (it is songs about relationships, after all) and rusticisms (it is folk music, after all) become a bad thing? Couldn't these kind of ambiguous associations be made to any album? What it comes down to is that Mumford & Sons are British (sorta like Gomez) and play a new brand of folk music (see Avett Brothers). They're popular in England (but not as much as Kings of Leon) and seem to be generating some buzz in the U.S. (much like Keane). Then there are those harmonies, not to mention banjos (!), that could have only been written after listening to Fleet Foxes. Clearly both of these bands owe their entire existence to Ralph Stanley, or whoever invented the banjo/harmony combination.

Time for more influences. Don't forget Celtic melodies, Fairport Convention and Pentangle. Wait...did you say Fairport Convention and Pentangle? As in the Fairport Convention and the Pentangle? Midlake thinks they can sound like them too! The mission of Pitchfork has been identified: to protect and preserve the good names of Fairport Convention and Pentangle (both of made great music, by the way). Basically, Mumford & Sons, a British folk-rock band sound like British folk-rock bands. While they might not distance themselves drastically from recent upstarts like Frightened Rabbit, We Were Promised Jetpacks and Frank Turner, or historical acts like Fairport Convention or Pentangle, it's not a particularly egregious offense. Great Britain is not a huge place and there's only so many different ways to sing a song.

Listening to the album, you might at times think something you hear is reminiscent of something else you've heard, but that's part of what makes music fun. It's hard to believe that anyone hears this album and can only think about what an abomination it is that a band could make money off such blatant unoriginality. Like it or leave it, innovation or lack thereof is not what got this album released or into the ears of listeners. On Paul's Boutique, the Beastie Boys said, "Only 24 hours in a day, only 12 notes a man can play." True on both counts. However, since that particular album is primarily composed of sampled music and many sampled lyrics, Pitchfork probably thinks it is a piece of trash. Right?

Back to Mumford & Sons, once the review actually gets around to talking about the songs on the album being reviewed, the contradictions start rolling in and the wheels start coming off. In one paragraph alone, Mumford is accused of being "anonymous", but then "self-absorbed" as well. By this point, the review is completely useless. With a numerical rating at the beginning of the review, you already know what is going to be said and few surprises or interesting insights can be expected. In this case, the review could have gone on for several more paragraphs, but eventually the reader would realize that listening to a bad album is still far more enjoyable than reading a bad review.