May God Damn You, Phil, For There's Work I Should Be Doing. Part I

The Earle of Mackenzie asked me today, "What music should I download?" How does someone who loves his 70gig of mp3s equally answer this question? My kommunist musik loyalties tell me to answer, "Download all of it or none of it." That's improbable but not impossible--I'm lookin' at you, Pat. It feels unfair to me to recommend only some music to people; just as unfair, however, is to assume Phil gives a shit about my equal loyalties to both Blackalicious and Kodo (Japanese Taiko drumming). My main man from Mankato asked me for help. I owe it to him to, just this once, discriminate in order to make a list he, and anyone else, might be able to work with.

In general, categories/genres/stereotypes are thought of as negative, right? I guess I believe this too. We are better than labels. We don't need them. This is what we think at our most blind, human moments. My conflict is that I hate labels, but I love labeling. Furthermore, I love identifying cross-label mingling, especially in music.

Take The Allman Brothers: If I were to keep it as real as possible, and be as specific to their style with a label, I'd be happy with "Bluesy Jamband Dirty-Southern Revival Rock." That label doesn't do any a shit lot of good but me. It certainly is unwieldy for the functions of an iPod. There aren't too many other bands that fall into the "Bluesy Jamband Dirty-Southern Revival Rock" genre. So, I guess if I'm the mood for that sort of thing, I'll just listen to Allmans.

It feels too easy and unfair to categorizes music into blanket genres, but it's necessary for a project like Phil. I had to do this anyway, however, when organizing my mp3s into iTunes. Somehow, I narrowed everything down to twelve genres--just twelve! Apologetic Declaration: To my music collection, I'm sorry; I'm so ashamed. You deserve better. The blanket-genres I settled on are: Atmospheric, Classical, Comedy, DJ, Folk, Funk, Hip-Hop, Jazz, Metal, Rock, Soundtrack, and Themes.

I feel dirty.

Can you imagine my horror in resorting to labeling The Allman Brothers as "Rock?" Greg, Duane, Dickey, et. al.: I'm sorry. How about the sloppy inclusion of Al Green into Funk when Soul or Music-to-Make-Love-to-Your-Old-Lady-by would be more accurate. What about bands with concept albums, which shift from one sub-genre to another throughout their library? Mastodon should be Caveman Metal for their album Remission, and Whaler Metal for Leviathan. Mastodon into plain-ol' Metal? I mean, Fucking Ozzy Osborne is considered Metal.

I feel that I've made my point, that I don't like to use blanket categories and discriminate any recommendation... but here goes:

[These are more or less alphabetical within genres, but I front loaded stronger recommendations.]
Atmospheric - I hate the phrase "background music" but what can you do?
Bjork
Godspeed You, Black Emperor! Amazing, creepy writing music.

Classical
Gorecki - Symphony #3
Wagner
Holst

Comedy - Great online poker listening.
Bruce McCulluch (from The Kids in the Hall)
Lewis Black
Bill Cosby
Brak
Dave Attell

DJ
The Avalanches - [strong recommendation]
DJ Shadow - A Gretsky among DJs.
Dan the Automator - album: Nathaniel Merriweather Presents... Loveage: Music to Make Love to Your Old Lady By
Cut Chemist
Danger Mouse - album: The Grey Album
Handsome Boy Modeling School - album: So... How's Your Girl
Kid Koala

Folk - I use this label for musicks native to cultures and geographies, not the Dylan-type Folk--I'm lookin' at you, Seth. You'll understand what I mean...
Silly Wizard - featuring the one Scotsman I love more than Phil, Andy Stewart and his silky-as-Scotish-gets voice. Strength: Andy's voice, accordion
Planxty - strength: pipes
Johnny Cash
Kodo
The Pogues

Funk
James Brown - Duh.
Ohio Players
Beck - Where do you put Beck?!
Parliment
Funkadelic
Return to Forever
Weather Report
Al Green
Curtis Mayfield
Earth, Wild & Fire
Fishbone
Stevie Wonder
G. Love & Special Sauce
Hip Replacement - OK, that's one of my bands. Ya gotta plug.
Jamiroquai
KC & The Sunshine Band
Kool & The Gang

Hip-Hop
RZA - album: The World According to RZA
GZA - album: Liquid Swords
Blackalicious - album: Broken Arrow
Beastie Boys - album: Paul's Boutique
A Tribe Called Quest
Mos Def
De la Soul
Del Tha Funkee Homosapien
Atmosphere - Minneapolis BOYEEEEE!
Common
Dialated Peoples
Jurassic 5
Wu Tang

...to be continued

Dwanny Feroloson Indeed

I'd like to continue with the idea I good-touched on in my last post--good-touch meaning Wild.com's new look, not the bad-touch meaning that against the 'Nucks, the Wild played like some of students write.

One of the new features o'er there is a blog by one, Dutch Schnell, a famous Goalie Racer--as famous as Goalie Racers get in MN. If you've ever been to a Wild game, you've seen Dutch and the rest of the goalie racers... well, race during intermission. Anywhore, Wild.com gave him a keyboard, as if the internet has a fever, and the only prescription is moooah unqualified idiot-opinions. At least, that was my initial fear as I clicked the link with reluctance. Turns out Schnell handles the keyboard better than every other goalie racer I've read. He plays der garmzanen too! Unfortunately, and this is what will keep Dutch from greatness, his favorite garmz year is the wrong one; clearly, he's not as roots as some of us. I just want to bad-touch on one thing--but quickly because I'll start to rant and fume if I spend too many sentences on it: Sire and I hatez EA NHL 06. Well I hatez it more than Sire. I hope it's not too late; I hope you weren't just at EvilEmpire.com, ordering it.

Anyone who's played any hockey garmz before will understand--shit, it's an epidemic in ALL sports garmz--each offering's revolutionary new features and controls, player customizing like Silly Putty for the face, textures, models, and animations that make it move in your pants... don't mean jack if the programmers didn't fix the same fucking difficulty bullshit that's been WRONG since '94. Somehow, "easy" means 23-1 over Detroit. Of course, it's only logical that "medium" means 1-23 Colorado--just because it's fucking Colorado.

Yeah, the early NHL garmz were the best and the difficulty thing never bothered me then. 20+ goals has always been ridiculous but back then, they were video games. Now though, garmz studios interrupt and say, "Not video games, love: sports simulations!" Then they puff from a pipe.

Programmers, I implore thee: Get it right, fuckers! Make challenging garmz with realism, not hardness by goals-against for the sake of goals. Giving the opponent goalie TCRP Mutagen, and giving our goalie a case of the downs doesn't equate to challenging. That's just lame and not fun. I've NEVER played a hockey garm that's gotten difficulty right. The closest was the Sega Sports ESPN 2K series which allowed a metric shit-ton of both human and AI difficulty settings. Still though, they weren't quite right: Vlanch score PPG fifteen ticks in. There's no other way. It's in the fucking stars.

So much for brief bad-touches.

The Anyway Disclaimer: Dutch Schnell's post is a couple weeks old, so there's a lack of dejection present in his tone regarding the Wild's latest lackadaisicalamities. I'm not delusional; I don't expect our greenback band of rebel scum to win every game. It's just that before the last two games, I'd been getting a similar vibe to that of our 2002-03 Conference Final run. We had a great start that year too, only better. I credit my father, The Hawk, that I'm so hopeful, and it's Mah's doing that I'm practical when hope settles for Beta. I think it's a good mix, but it makes for a Terry Davis rise-n-fall hockey season.

...

I don't even want to talk about it. Nice new look to the site though, eh? Eh.

So Much for Silver Linings

Goddamn crotches.

More Shit Swamps, Less Winning

Well... at least there are a few good things about today's loss: In his third game back, Leia scored his first two goals of the season, putting him up to six points (2g and 4a for 6p); Luke got an assist on one, and Chewy, one on the other. Rolston continued his offense--shit, now I have to tie him into Star Wars. Umm... Lando? No. Rolston ain't black. Ahh, Wedge: "Gold leader! Stay on target!"

Might as Well be a MN Wild Blog...

Don't blame me. Blame them.

My students better love me. I prioritized tonight, opting to confine myself to the grammar-dead shit swamps instead of beg, borrow, and deal my way to BDubs's for tonight's Wild fixture against the St. Louis BrruUUUues [Crose Enaaaff!].

Philosophy 101: If a tree falls in the forest...
Wild Philosophy 101: If I can't watch a Wild game, do they actually play? Studies have shown: Yes. Is my attention required for a win? Survey says: NO. Chewy kept on ripping arms off and producing offense--regardless of his lowly [read as: honorable] third-line assignment and my Boulevard-vacant stomach.

Since his crotch is healed and since I must maintain the Wild-Star Wars metaphor, Gabbies' my Leia, only prettier.

The decision to prioritize was easier than I thought: I got to watch the Gophs trounce the Mavs instead. Yes, you gotta support the home team, and I don't like to support idiot rioters, but the Gophs are a better team and deserved to sweep the Mavs. I like our team though: big fuckers that hit hard and play hard. Too bad our logo looks like it was drawn by the same a bull it depicts. Color wheel lesson: After choosing a new color for the new logo, you can't just slap said logo on an old jersey with old colors. Even the color-blind know you can't mix purple and blue. For this eye sore, Mavericks, you deserve to lose.

BM: It's a Movement

Head thee over to The Beta Male. These important updates document the early stages of a major social movement that will make Civil Rights look like slap bracelets.

The Gauntlet has been Somethinged

Dear F&TinP comrades,
Terry called us out in class tonight. He was right to do so. I've felt a great amount of guilt over the last few weeks due to my lack of interaction during class. I've been chalking it up to "being swamped", literally by shit swamp Comp papers. That's no excuse. A reason, maybe, but there is no excuse. I'm just as bad as anyone who could be talking more.

We're freakin' adults here, adults paying a lot to accomplish two goals that, I think, can be applied to any class: 1) to learn from the people we pay to teach us (Terry does more than his part), 2a) to help each other and 2b) get help from each other. We can't do that in silence.

Someone say, "So what?"

Terry dropped hints near the beginning of the semester that he'd like us to talk more. After such a hint, Dr. Hoo expressed to me that she'd like for anyone interested to get together before class to chat about the content. It was her hope that doing so would help direct class, make it less of a game of who's-going-to-talk-first? I think that's a great idea. I hang around the TA offices for at least an hour before our class. There are a few others in my office and our class that I hang with. We more or less help each other waste that time.

I've never before been so blatantly called out by a professor. Bless Terry's blunt heart that he did. Sometimes it feels like we're abuncha Comp statues in there--myself included, of course. Dr. Hoo's a smart girl. Each Tuesday, let's all chat before class.

Let's answer Terry. We don't have to create the same sort of charge as in Iowa. We don't have to call each other stupid fucks. But we have to do something, right?

Mace... out.

The Beta Male

[The following is a comment I posted at, perhaps, the greatest new blog ever created in the last couple days.]

Home, home at least! I have found the tightie whitie, tight-knit circle of acceptance that I've been half-heartedly searching for my whole life! Well, some of my life, anyway--but that's what bein' beta is all about: the glory of mediocrity, letting the spotlight warm you while standing around it, but not in it...I propose--not boldly--Beta Male t-shirts--not muscle shirts, though: Bein' Beta: There's Honor in Adequacy, Sucka EmCees!

Betas Unite!
Mace... out

While trudging through grammar-dead shit swamps today...

...a league-leading powerplay and a league-leading penalty kill were the things that kept me sane. If I'm Yoda... He's my Han; he's my Luke; he's my Chewy; and he's my Obi-Wan.

Balding at 21, you are. Worry not, my young apprentice: Hiding the thinning, helmets are for.

If you haven't heard/bought/borrowed/stolen/downloaded anything by Lewis Black... Well, I guess... what the fuck, yo?

The Shining?

If you're like me, you hate those lousy, bummer movies. The tragic thing about The Shining is how a feel-good story with OK acting gets held up by shotty direction and a backwards vision. I don't get it! Jack's just working through some bloc! It's a glorious experience. It's a triumphant battle with resistance--prompts for inspiration, the Masters on the shelf in easy reach for guidance, swords for gouging! Such a journey should be accompanied by lovely, sweeping violins and sun-blasted, majestic scenery--not some dingy old ski resort, grandmas with excema, and blood flooded elevators! Whatever hack that directed The Shining got it all wrong. Whoever directed the upcoming redo makes the other guy look like he directed the movie using Mario Paint.

Addendum: As a responsible blogger I should mention that I found the redo movie over at Brian's blog, [sausage] linked on the right.

Dinosaur Trees of Northern Minnesota. Pic by Zinnel.

Teachers are Thieves

My good friend and colleague, Benjaminz, offered to the rest of us a useful, well-crafted exercise with the purpose of giving student some experience synthesizing information. The students are supposed to come up with a handful of exotic locales they'd like to visit someday and ask a few people where they'd like to go and why. Then they're supposed to ask a few more people if they'd like to go any of the places mentioned--why and why not and all that, blah blah blah. Well, in order to "lead by example" as I'm fond of, I thought I'd whip up my own mock interviews for my students to get a feel for how it's goin' down. I'm particularly proud of it:

My "Daydream Destination" Example
My five places: Japan, Ireland, Scotland, England, Norway
My first three people: Henry Rollins, Miles Davis, and Your Mom

Their places:
Henry: Italy--for the food and Vespa scooters; Brazil--to get in touch with the rainforest and for the futbol; Norway--for "stoic people that won't piss me off."
Miles: France--for the jazz scene; Africa--for "roots, baby, roots."; England--"'cuz they all think Americans is jive. They is, man. They is."
Your Mom: Ireland--because "It's so greeeen there!"; New York--for the "bustle" and "excitement" and "all the interesting people"; Denmark--because "Well, that's where your father's side of the family comes from, ya know."

Three other people: Wes Walz, Les Claypool, and Your Girlfriend
Where these people would/n't like to go:
Wes wants to go to: England--because "I've played hockey in ever country in the world except there."
Wes doesn't want to go to: Africa--because "Hockey's just not catching on very fast over there. Besides, too hot for ice."

Les wants to go to: None of these countries because "None of them have sturgeon for me to fish. At least Norwegians were once Vikings. They fished didn't they? That's close enough.
Les doesn't want to go to: Ireland or Scotland--because "They boil all their food! Have you ever had boiled fish? It's just gross."

Your Girlfriend wants to go: back to my place for caramels, coffee, and more caramels. "OK, if I had to pick another place, it'd be Ireland 'cuz it's so greeeen there!"
Your Girlfriend doesn't want to go to: Japan--because "Like, square watermelons just totally freak me out."

Mace...out

Chewy?

I think there's a direct relation between how well the Wild do and how much delicious, unfiltered Boulevard I drink. So much for the lack of scoring in the NHL and the lack of wheat in my stomach. Even the Wild are benefiting from the average 2+ more goals scored per game this season. And once all of their crotches are healed...

Mace...out

This just in...

...My shoes!

"I'm not a music person."

...uttered one of my students today after I low-downed them on an in-class writing exercise. I hope I didn't stare too hard and dumb at my poor, A-student. The exercise involved listening to Curtis Mayfield's Superfly The Beastie Boys' Eggman--which samples the bassline from Superfly--and lastly, the Frankenstein of poppy-crap, the remix/reconstruction of Green Day's Boulevard of Broken Dreams into Oasis' Wonderwall.

After writing about the experience of listening to the three songs, I asked them to come up with their own fantasy reconstruction of two of their favorite songs. What lyrics from one song would they lay over the music from another song? Why? And all that. I was stoked and it seemed as though most my students were into it up to that point. Of course, they voiced that they didn't "get" Curtis Mayfield; only a couple knew The Beatsie Beatsie Boys well enough to know Paul's Boutique; and half of them had heard Boulevard Wonderwall before and almost all of them thought it was cool and interesting and pretty sweet, I guess.

Upon hearing their next instructions, to play Dr. Frankenmusic, most of the students went right to work, searching the lyrics websites I supplied and Google to find lyrics to their favorite songs. But my poor, music-less A-student kinda just sat there, not even swiveling the tiniest bit. I asked what was wrong and she hit me with the most depressing confession I've heard in a long time:

"I'm not a music person."

In her defense and as a testament to how good of a student she is, she wasn't just trying to get out of the assignment. She was genuinely concerned with how the hell she was supposed to do the assignment.

"You don't have two favorite songs?"

"I don't have one."

I visibly shuddered, called her a liar, and accused her of busting my ballz--perhaps unwise, sure, but I couldn't help it. She caught me off guard. There are people like this? That aren't... I can't even say it.

I went without a luxurious 'Pod for 25 years. Eight months later, now 26, I can't imagine life without it. In the movies, characters are unaware of the soundtrack. As the audience, though, we understand that characters feel or have some sense of the music swelling behind them. My life's soundtrack is an assorted, rotating selection of 700-ish .mp3s out of 16,000. An iPod Mini offers roughly 4 gigs of space. Filling that space isn't easy since I have 70 equally-loved gigs of .mp3s.

Imagine:
Imagine a 101 Dalmatians scenario. Only, instead of 101 spotted Pongos and Perditas, you have 70 cute, widdo kitties. And instead of being able to keep them all, and enjoying the hilarity and high adventure that ensues, you can keep only four kitties. The remaining 64 kitties, you must toss into a black, Glad Garbage bag and an old TV box--for good measure. From the bed of a truck named iTunes, you must kick the mewing box to the shoulder of Hwy 169, within sight of Happy Chef.

That's what having only 4 gigs feels like. I want to be buried in kitty. But four will have to do until I can afford the next generation of .mp3 player--ever notice how the next generation always comes out a month after you finally get with the times?

Tangents aside, as I walk around campus with my four kitties, I forget I'm listening to a device through tiny "buds" hooking into my ears. It's become that natural to hear music at all times. Sometimes, when I'm listening and walking up the hill to campus--they call me Sisyphus of Gage hill--I'll think "It'd be nice to hear some Phantom Planet right now. I wish I had my 'Pod on me." Maybe it's nature; maybe I should sleep more.

After I busted my girl's A-student-ballz, another A-student girl said I only give them stuff to write about that I'm interested in. To borrow one of their phrases: Well, duh. But if even one intelligent A-student can't think of two songs she could easily--however unfairly, in my book--call her favorites... As my father, The Hawk, says: I fear for our species.