tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6972198164273496692024-02-19T18:05:03.127-08:00March Sadness 2016The 2016 Tournament of Tears: The College Rock Years (1980-2001)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger89125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-84885469655718268642016-12-18T13:50:00.001-08:002016-12-18T13:50:11.886-08:00Last Act of March Sadness 2016 & March Fadness 2017Dear March Sadnessers: The Committee brings you our last act for March Sadness in 2016: our end-of-year Xmas mixtape, which you can find <a href="https://open.spotify.com/user/angermonsoon/playlist/4L1GJSdQpUvPnmxQEDa3wd">here</a> in spotify, or, better, download <a href="https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/420931/March%20Sadness%20Presents%20Xmas%202016.zip">here</a>, since Spotify is missing like five songs.<br />
<br />
Here's to the end of a real sad year.<br />
<br />
More importantly, tune in to <a href="http://marchfadness.com/">March Fadness</a>, our next tournament, in 2017. Play-in games will begin in January, at which point the bracket will also be released.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-84209318714316935862016-10-16T19:08:00.001-07:002016-10-16T19:08:22.343-07:00Details on the 2017 Edition will be forthcoming shortly& so, March Sadness peeps: we are doing it again in 2017 with a slightly different angle.<br />
<br />
The Committee has deliberated & expects to release the 2017 bracket in November 2016.<br />
<br />
For more details on the 2017 edition, <i>March Fadness, </i>check back with this space for a link to the new tournament or <a href="https://twitter.com/marchfadness">follow us @ Twitter</a>. (You can also <a href="https://twitter.com/angermonsoon">follow @angermonsoon</a>.)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-10845651783778166202016-03-31T23:00:00.000-07:002016-04-02T21:26:45.850-07:00As March Ends, We Thank YouThanks to all of you who helped play out, root for, and publicize these games. Particular thanks to our Final Four analysts, Pam Houston and Rick Moody, and to the writers who helped to essay the Sweet Sixteen and Second Round, whom we'll iterate here along with the band/musician they wrote essays on, to as to provide a lasting index of some excellent writing:<br />
<ul>
<li><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.no/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-1-joy-division-vs.html">Kate Bernheimer (on Joy Division)</a></li>
<li><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.no/2016/03/the-sweet-sixteen-2-radiohead-vs-6-this.html">Brian Blanchfield (on This Mortal Coil)</a></li>
<li><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.no/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-14-low-vs-2.html">Kenneth Caldwell (on Low)</a></li>
<li><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.no/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-14-low-vs-2.html">Megan Campbell (on Concrete Blonde)</a></li>
<li><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.no/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-4-gary-jules-vs-1.html">Ryan Carter (on Gary Jules)</a></li>
<li><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.no/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-7-tracy-chapman-vs.html">Danielle Cadena Deulen (on Kate Bush)</a></li>
<li><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.no/2016/03/the-sweet-sixteen-13-church-vs-1.html">Juan Diaz (on The Church)</a></li>
<li><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/an-interlude-fenton-johnson-on-pop.html">Fenton Johnson (on Pop)</a></li>
<li><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.no/2016/03/the-sweet-sixteen-13-church-vs-1.html">Lawrence Lenhart (on Neutral Milk Hotel)</a></li>
<li><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.no/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-7-tracy-chapman-vs.html">Manuel Muñoz (on Tracy Chapman</a>)</li>
<li><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.no/2016/03/the-sweet-sixteen-3-sinead-oconnor-vs-2.html">Laura C. J. Owen (on Sinead O'Connor)</a></li>
<li><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.no/2016/03/the-sweet-sixteen-3-sinead-oconnor-vs-2.html">Elena Passarello (on Jeff Buckley)</a></li>
<li><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.no/2016/03/the-sweet-sixteen-3-tori-amos-vs-1-cure.html">Kathleen Rooney (on The Cure)</a></li>
<li><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.no/2016/03/second-round-action-14-low-vs-6-crowded.html">Ben Rybeck (on Low)</a></li>
<li><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.no/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-4-gary-jules-vs-1.html">Katie Jean Shinkle (on Elliott Smith)</a></li>
<li><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.no/2016/03/the-sweet-sixteen-3-tori-amos-vs-1-cure.html">Alison Stine (on Tori Amos)</a></li>
<li><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.no/2016/03/the-sweet-sixteen-2-radiohead-vs-6-this.html">Matthew Vadnais (on Radiohead)</a></li>
<li><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.no/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-1-joy-division-vs.html">Nicole Walker (on PJ Harvey & Nick Cave)</a></li>
</ul>
<div>
And of course, thanks to you, our voters and commenters and tweeters and facebookers.<br />
<br />
So the tournament this year is over, with Buckley standing atop a weeping field. It doesn't mean, however, that you can't play it yourself—or with someone you love—all over again, and this time you can make it come out how you want. What news stays news? This bracket. It is, after all, a self-diagnostic tool.<br />
<br />
Watch this space for the next installment in 2017: March Fadness. Want to contribute a writeup or analysis? Drop us a line.<br />
<br />
—Your Official March Sadness Selection Committee</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-74324702031111957922016-03-30T09:00:00.000-07:002016-03-31T16:07:36.364-07:00YOUR SAD CHAMPION, THE MARCH SADNESS 2016 CHAMPIONis JEFF BUCKLEY's "Hallelujah!<br />
<br />
FINAL SCORE: (2) Jeff Buckley 168, (7) Tracy Chapman 159<br />
<br />
This was a beast of a game, with Chapman taking control from the tip-off and playing exactly the kind of game she wanted to: no-frills, no-pretense, no self-pity, slick technical basketball. You could watch it happening but be at a a loss as to how to stop it. She went into halftime with a 25-point lead, but in the second half Buckley came out just on fucking fire, hitting every shot he took for a moment, and cut the lead to 10, then to 4, and then he was on top. Hard to describe it as anything but dude was touched by something then, carrying something spectral even, maybe the ghost of Elliott Smith (who had intervened in a previous game, we think, and stuffed The Replacements' last-minute shot—we couldn't see anything but the ball in the air, time run out, and it must have hit something and deflected, but we could see nothing at all, and the ball fell harmlessly out of bounds and the game was over then).<br />
<br />
Before we knew it, Buckley's "Hallelujah" was up by a dozen, riding votes largely from overseas (Italy, Poland, and Australia all came in and tilted Buckley when the Americans were asleep). Could it continue? It couldn't. Chapman got a stop, slipped a screen and nailed an open three, forced another turnover, another open three, and one more to get it back within a one possession game...<br />
<br />
With time winding down, Buckley started showing signs of tiring—or losing his edge anyway. He missed an easy layup, and missed three straight free throws. Though both musicians are known for only one or two songs, Buckley has the deeper following, while Chapman is more widely known, largely for this very song. Buckley, conveniently no longer around to sully his reputation with release of new music (though we note he has an album dropping soon: we keep seeing the promos for it since the great data mind has datamined the fact that we keep listening to Jeff Buckley and sold our desires to third parties who conspire to know us and to sell us things even now), seemed keen on showing that he is no one-hit wonder. And he did, taking home the championship in the end by only nine points.<br />
<br />
We could repeat some sports clichés here: how Chapman dug deep, how Buckley was in the zone, but that’s sad, isn’t it. We were frankly astonished by how deeply people felt about these two songs to get them here, to this moment, the crowning of the winner. What did it mean that these were the two songs that emerged from the whole bracket to play for the championship? Do we really prefer our sadnesses to be solo, having voted down two (1) seeds—both bands, both British, both heavy hitters—in the final four: Joy Division and The Cure? It’s hard not to lament some of those with tough matchups in the first few rounds: how deep could (9) Tom Waits’ “Downtown Train” have gone if it hadn’t met “Pictures of You” in the second round? How did (12) Red House Painters’ “Katy Song” lose to James in their first matchup? What if The Replacements had beaten Elliott Smith in the second round? Or poor (10) The Smiths’s “There is a Light That Never Goes Out,” paired up in a first-round match against our finalist “Fast Car”? And for a while, Mazzy Star looked like the band with the hot hand, after taking down a way-underseeded REM in a surprising first-round matchup, they took Joy Division to the buzzer, when Hope Sandoval’s desperation three rattled out. And what about tournament overachievers (14) Low (“Words”)? After knocking down U2, Crowded House, and PJ Harvey, they ran into what we thought was a sure winner, “Atmosphere,” in the Elite Eight, and there their fandom split a bit, we think: easier to pick Low over Crowded House, and even they knew that Joy Division was going to prove a stouter foe.<br />
<br />
They did, but were no match for Chapman’s game. At least two of our expert panelists picked Chapman from the start, though neither got to advocate for her on the game pages. So what did we miss about Chapman to have given her such a low seed? Her song—her one song (though she had another hit much later, let’s be real, for most of us it’s “Fast Car” or nothing: even the geeky types who form the committee hadn’t listened to her past that other hit)—was so ubiquitous the year that it came out that we stopped listening to it. We stopped even hearing it: we just heard the phenomenon of it: yeah, yeah, Fast Car, My name is Luka, I live on the second floor (how easily we conflate phenomena!) and let’s get back to our Cure tapes and our Depeche Mode that let us really feel how we want to feel.<br />
<br />
We hadn’t realized, as one commenter mentioned later in a hallway conversation, how “Fast Car” can be read as a direct response (in both content musically—how there’s a riff in “Fast Car” that seems to call it back) to John Mellencamp’s “Jack and Diane” (a sad-ass song, if not one that qualifies as “college rock”) and thinking about it more, we were reminded how Mellencamp discovered Chapman, auditioning acts for Farm Aid, and ran across an unheralded Tracy Chapman, and put her onstage there, and the rest is history.<br />
<br />
Or, well, “Fast Car” is history, and then a gap—not for her but for us, for most of us, this, let’s admit it, probably pretty white crowd (as an early commenter said, as a joke, we think, #MarchSadnessSoWhite: indeed! but on reflection all the bands that we listened to then who even loosely fell under the aegis of “college rock” were white: like we wonder—and other, smarter people have probably written about this: direct us there if you have suggested reading?—if college rock (which became, kind of, alternative as the 80s bled into the 90s) served as a counter to mainstream Top 40 radio in the same way that hip hop did?). Well, we don’t know what happened then. And we forgot about Chapman, consumed as we were with our own obsessions with the synths and with the Brits and with our excavation of all the alternatives to the hits—until “Give Me Just One Reason” reminded us of what her voice can do.<br />
<br />
I realize I’m not writing about Buckley here, or not much. That’s because I’m a little tired of “Hallelujah,” by now, if I’m being honest, even as he’s gone on to win the thing.<br />
<br />
It’s true that Buckley and Chapman aren’t exactly in the center of the college rock genre. As someone said on Twitter, these finals could have been played in a Starbucks in Overland Park, Kansas instead of here, in the Doc Martens March Sadness Basketball Arena in Tucson, Arizona. While that’s true, we take that to mean that Starbucks has better taste in music than you think, or that it’s eaten us, that the center of the culture has consumed the fringe, as it does. We’re reminded of that moment a couple years ago when we realized that we knew <i>all</i> the songs at Starbucks while we were sipping on our hard-earned lattes, that two in the last half hour alone appeared on our last motherfucking <i>mix tape.</i><br />
<br />
I freaked out a bit, I should admit. Wait, I said, does that mean we’ve lost our cool? Megan said: oh honey, I thought you knew. God damn, I said. God damn the sun.<br />
<br />
Well, I am certain I will never hear Swans at Starbucks, but I did hear “Love Will Tear Us Apart” as I shopped at the grocery store in Michigan—in a Muzak version, no less. I knew then that something was over. Maybe the counterculture, whatever it was and how it helped us define ourselves then, lost, or did it just serve its purpose and recede? Or was it always just a pose? I don’t know. Even what I complain about, calling derisively Top 40 Mainstream culture in the 80s was never that monolithic, I don’t think. If you’re, say, five years older than me, or just a bit smarter than me, you probably already realized that. Sure, there were their share of crappy bands churned out on the major labels, but there were weird spikes too, one of them being Chapman’s “Fast Car,” which is a pretty god damn sad song when you really listen to it, if you can. And her story’s sad. It’s not as sad as the young accidental death of a dude whose dad killed himself, but it’s bigger, and it’s better, and it’s less susceptible to easy mythologization because she’s still alive, because she went on after she had that one huge hit, and she made herself a career, and she seems to have exerted some force on her legacy (that there’s no online streaming of the video for “Fast Car” seems to me like it must be her doing somehow, like her exerting some control over her life, or maybe I’m ascribing intention to what’s just an accident of rights), and whatever, Tracy, you wrote a fucking good sad-ass song and we thank you for that and for the fact that you’re still out there singing. So say we all.<br />
<br />
Happy March’s end to you and yours. Thanks for coming along for the ride. One more post to come later on.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, we leave you with a poem:<br />
<br />
"<a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/177920">My Sad Captains</a>"<br />
Thom Gunn<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
One by one they appear in<br />
the darkness: a few friends, and <br />
a few with historical<br />
names. How late they start to shine! <br />
but before they fade they stand <br />
perfectly embodied, all<br />
<br />
the past lapping them like a <br />
cloak of chaos. They were men <br />
who, I thought, lived only to <br />
renew the wasteful force they <br />
spent with each hot convulsion. <br />
They remind me, distant now.<br />
<br />
True, they are not at rest yet, <br />
but now that they are indeed <br />
apart, winnowed from failures, <br />
they withdraw to an orbit<br />
and turn with disinterested <br />
hard energy, like the stars.<br />
<br />
[<a href="http://voca.arizona.edu/readings-list/9/11">listen to him read it live at the University of Arizona Poetry Center in 1972</a>]<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-84562936356470130802016-03-30T06:50:00.000-07:002016-03-31T10:12:40.585-07:00THE SAD CHAMPIONSHIP: vote by 3/31 9am<div style="text-align: center;">
FINAL SCORE: JEFF BUCKLEY 168, TRACY CHAPMAN 159<br />
<br />
HALLELUJAH WINS<br />
HALLELUJAH WINS<br />
HALLELUJAH WINS<br />
HALLELUJAH WINS<br />
HALLELUJAH WINS<br />
HALLELUJAH WINS<br />
HALLELUJAH WINS<br />
<br />
<a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/your-sad-champion-march-sadness-2016.html">analysis</a>!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
*<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: left;">
Here we are under the big lights, with one game left in March Sadness 2016. Bittersweet? You bet. In lieu of more writing, we've made a video (next) to helpfully recap our monthlong road. After that, the songs in question, followed by one last trip to the expert analysts' panel of getting-it-wrong and coulda been. Vote by tomorrow morning at 9am, at which point we'll announce the champion.</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
HOW WE GOT HERE:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lIBwB6Mz-iw" width="560"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*<br />
<br />
THE CONTENDERS:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(2) Jeff Buckley, "Hallelujah"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/y8AWFf7EAc4" width="420"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
vs.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(7) Tracy Chapman, "Fast Car"<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/uTIB10eQnA0" width="560"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyz3ZriYQNxSiQzPOCiyzLf_3VpYdcmVB_BA2eq6aoG9z2FRbpckqqRTrRwDyj4gR36u-xXV_SVDfpzfkU2S0-aeumNc6FwVxaI04PJl2jZVuIfQ12MhJWbg5xYll4ZUOYjpoPaZ7LiwQG/s1600/championship_picks-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyz3ZriYQNxSiQzPOCiyzLf_3VpYdcmVB_BA2eq6aoG9z2FRbpckqqRTrRwDyj4gR36u-xXV_SVDfpzfkU2S0-aeumNc6FwVxaI04PJl2jZVuIfQ12MhJWbg5xYll4ZUOYjpoPaZ7LiwQG/s1600/championship_picks-1.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
KC: <span style="color: red;">*</span>This Mortal Coil's “Song to the Siren” will be somehow etched into my gravestone.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
RC: <span style="color: red;">*</span>Should win: Buckley. That recording is for the ages. Chapman's song never hung together for me—too slick. <span style="color: red;">*</span>Will win: Probably Chapman. The perfection that rubs me the wrong way about her song makes it extremely accessible, and it's had global impact, and very positive. <span style="color: red;">*</span>Shoulda been: New Order, Regret. I like a sad song that makes me dance. Also regret itself is a very uncommon sentiment to find so well expressed in art.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
DCD: <span style="color: red;">*</span>My pick to sweep the whole thing from the very beginning was Chapman. It's the damned saddest song for so many reasons beyond my own personal experience, but I have a deep connection to that particular song on top of it being a heartbreaker.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
PH: <span style="color: red;">*</span>Pam thinks Via Chicago and Ashes of American Flags are sadder, but she loves the way Jeff Tweedy sings/writes.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
LL: <span style="color: red;">*</span>Since the Syracuse upset, #4 seeds have become more attractive to me. Also, between the original and cover, you've got just about the whole span in question (1983-2001)—maybe overemphasizing the "college years" over the sadness. Also, still think NMH has got what it takes.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
MM: <span style="color: red;">*</span>Should win: Chapman, because it acknowledges the power of a big one-hit wonder to define an artist and then opens the mystery of why we enthusiastically respond to that artist's first endeavor, only to go so cold on the rest of their output. (Yes, I know she had that other song years later, but please...). Also, I think Buckley was up for the wrong song. I would have gone with "Lover, You Should've Come Over," but I think anything is genius if it features someone looking out of a window or a door. <span style="color: red;">*</span>Will win: Buckley, because those who know of his tragic circumstances also know that his <i>dad</i> died early too. If people want deep sadness, there it is. It's like Bruce and Brandon Lee. *Shoulda been: as a dutiful follower of the brackets, I listened to each song against its competitor and tried to judge fairly on those first merits rather than on reputation or what I remembered of the song. Sinead's song was the only one that knocked me on my ass and I could not get it out of my head for the rest of the day—the barely contained heights of emotion in her delivery were real surprises, exactly the kind of song that best represents "heard it, but don't really remember it." Wrenching, honest, and punished unfairly for not being "Nothing Compares 2 U." Bonus points for perhaps not being the third or even fourth song that a casual listener might list if asked to name her best work. Quoth Pam of Archer fame, "Holy shit snacks..." </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
LCJO: <span style="color: red;">*</span>Should win: I love the love Chapman's been getting—a surprise surge. I think in part because of the quality of the write-ups she's been getting, but also on the strength of the song. It's cool that something that's more quietly regretful as opposed to flash-y sad has come so far. But I still think that both in quality of song, transcendence of cover, and sheer range of evocative sadness, it's Buckley. <span style="color: red;">*</span>Will win: I would be SHOCKED if he doesn't win. <span style="color: red;">*</span>Shoulda been: My write-in candidate, The Magnetic Fields, All the Umbrellas in London, and of the real picks, The Cure, Pictures of You (which did go far!). There's something arguably peaceful and reflective about Hallelujah while as Kathleen Rooney brilliantly put it, Pictures of You is pure melodrama; in the best possible sense, it's fabulously, wonderfully self-indulgently sad. Should have taken it. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
EP: <span style="color: red;">*</span>(But if it was a winner, would it still be a Replacements song? Discuss.)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
KR: <span style="color: red;">*</span>(I think "Fast Car" is sadder because of its fearless evocation of the soul-destroying drudgery of privation and economic coercion by invisible / systemic forces, but I don't know if people will be able to separate the narrative of Jeff Buckley's short, not-especially-buoyant life from what's actually intrinsic to the song and the performance (although he also deserves points for making a not-super-sad song sadder than it is).</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
AS: <span style="color: red;">*</span>Because I once saw a drag queen perform that song while just sitting on a folding chair and just singing it and people were coming up out of the crowd and stuffing dollar bills in her overalls, weeping. So sad.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
MV: <span style="color: red;">*</span>Should win: because no song used on <i>The O.C.</i> twice should qualify for this award. <span style="color: red;">*</span>Will win: Buckley because the <i>The O.C.</i> made lots of otherwise good people cry more than twice. <span style="color: red;">*</span>Shoulda because "if you're hurtin', so am I."</div>
<br />
*<br />
<br />
Good luck to both of the final songs. Let's have a clean game. That means you, Buckley.<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-38701734993187585562016-03-29T11:00:00.000-07:002016-03-29T11:00:11.211-07:00An Interlude: Fenton Johnson on PopWell, this could take up several hours that right now I need to be spending on correcting dangling participles . . . . What comes first to mind is the particularity of pop music, which is its distinguishing characteristic—as Stephen Dunn writes in “Loves”:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I love how pop songs seem profound<br />
when we're in love,<br />
though they wound us too sweetly,<br />
never seriously enough.</blockquote>
Each generation loves its songs because, speaking of sadness, those songs imprinted themselves at a critical moment. For folks now in their late 40s and 50s, one or several of the songs of the March Sadness bracket was playing somewhere near at hand at the moment of discovery of mortality, suffering, death.<br />
<br />
But I’m in my 60s, and my people—I mean gay men—we didn’t listen much to pop music. I vividly recall expressions of incredulity among my friends when I revealed that I had played Bruce Springsteen when having sex—later that day someone slipped a Pet Shop Boys recording under my office door. We had our own music—disco—and we were proud that it was the object of disdain among the liberal college set. Disco belonged to Queens and queens, and the more derision heaped on it by the sophisticates and the straights, the more that proved it was ours. Sometime around 5 a.m. we shifted from the gold and silver lamé fans and flags to Maria Callas and Krista Ludwig, and it was a simple fact and expectation that every disco DJ signaled dawn and closing time with a bow to our roots via a seamless segue from Donna Summer’s Last Dance (OK, OK, I know) to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NLR3lSrqlww">Callas singing Vissi d’Arte</a> or Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau singing Winterreise. Callas is not everyone’s cup of tea—that’s a different essay—but Patti Smith played Vissi d’Arte on hearing the news of Robert Mapplethorpe’s death, and that tells you something.<br />
<br />
I liked all the March Sadness songs in greater or lesser degree, though none affects me as deeply or sounds so sad as Springsteen’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nc_mv46NwT4">Downbound Train</a>, not because Leonard Cohen’s / Jeff Buckley’s "Hallelujah" isn’t as great (or greater) but because I first heard Downbound Train when AIDS was emptying the discos and I was not much past 30 and Sylvester was dead, one of the first to go, and though Jimmy Somerville’s ethereal countertenor (hello—<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fBSek9qTQhA">Smalltown Boy</a> <i>[The Committee regrets this oversight. —Ed]</i> ought to be on the March Sadness list) was a good stand-in, Sylvester and his Two Tons of Fun were landmarks, creating funk culture from a mix of gospel and soul and rock ‘n’ roll, and anyone who doesn’t understand Sylvester as a phenomenally talented artist and gender-bender who chose to come out with his people rather than play straight hasn’t listened to his music.<br />
<br />
So I say, bring back the disco, and play all four March Sadness finalists—no, maybe three; I’d cut The Cure <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/final-four-songs-voting-and-guest.html">for the reasons Pam Houston sets forth</a>—<i>but then, </i>but then after Joy Division and Tracy Chapman and Jeff Buckley, segue to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VATmgtmR5o4">Pavarotti singing Nessun Dorma</a> with its incomparable, defying-death final note. Indeed no one shall sleep, and the great thing about YouTube is that we get to see that for Pavarotti, sex and God and singing are all of a piece. I liked all these March Sadness songs, but none sent chills up my spine like Pavarotti, even after I’ve listened to his recording of it dozens, hundreds of time. <i>And</i> his eyebrows are real.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>The recipient of many literary awards, </i><a href="http://www.fentonjohnson.com/">Fenton Johnson</a><i> is the author of a new novel, </i>The Man Who Loved Birds,<i> as well as a </i>Harper’s Magazine<i> cover essay (</i>"<i><a href="http://www.fentonjohnson.com/site/publications/essays/cultural-commentary/">Going It Alone: The Dignity and Challenge of Solitude</a>"). He was recently <a href="http://www.npr.org/2015/03/12/392564716/inspired-by-monks-a-writer-embraces-his-life-of-solitude">featured</a> on Terry Gross’s </i>Fresh Air<i>.</i><br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-55196448155640868242016-03-29T09:25:00.000-07:002016-03-29T09:37:29.354-07:00Final Four Scores, Analysis, Preview of Wednesday's ChampionshipBoth the (1) seeds are gone, defeated soundly in their Final Four games. This clears the way for a matchup maybe no one (<a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/final-four-songs-voting-and-guest.html">except Pam Houston in her analysis of the Final Four games</a>) saw coming: (7) Tracy Chapman, a huge underdog in the Sadness tournament, will face off against "dead guy <i>legacy</i>" (<a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/final-four-songs-voting-and-guest.html">according to Rick Moody</a>) Jeff Buckley in the championship on Wednesday. Wow.<br />
<br />
As it turned out, neither game was even particularly close. Both Chapman and Buckley led from the first shot (a Chapman layup and a Buckley deep three coming off a screen) to the last, and neither The Cure nor Joy Division ever even got close from that point on. We don't know if the wider voting spoke to the more limited (or generational?) appeal of the two UK bands. Your votes for the Final Four came from mostly America, but also: the UK, France, Germany, South Korea, Italy, and Poland. It appears that with The Church eliminated, the Aussies felt less strongly about these pairings. <br />
<br />
While it's tricky to generalize from only two games, it would appear that we prefer our sadnesses—at this point anyhow—solo and American.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Final Scores:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="s1"><b>(7) TRACY CHAPMAN 154</b>, (1) Joy Division 90</span></div>
<br />
<div class="p1" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="s1"><b>(2) JEFF BUCKLEY 137</b>, (1) The Cure 89</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
<span class="s1">So the final will be a (7) seed versus a (2) seed, an original versus a cover, one living artist and one dead one, each with big reputations, but each being known best for only one or two songs. Each have blown up brackets in their march to the tournament final, and you'll get to decide which one cuts down the nets and takes home the trophy tomorrow morning, Wednesday, 3/30/16, right here. See you there. (We also have a brief interlude post coming your way shortly to tide you over until then.)</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
& here's your updated bracket:</div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRfUSvvMNFvL-1zRC84eIVkvrehiEPYGD30o_DY3-KKSzlpxCYV3mrZ5iObTlei1V3pcsYHfpEcs6mo1ci3MnD45kskSdoOtNBpIwyt_5Bg0SPEF-Py7ceEx7v5xQ24-9iWQFeAoUGovHy/s1600/marchsadness2016bracket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRfUSvvMNFvL-1zRC84eIVkvrehiEPYGD30o_DY3-KKSzlpxCYV3mrZ5iObTlei1V3pcsYHfpEcs6mo1ci3MnD45kskSdoOtNBpIwyt_5Bg0SPEF-Py7ceEx7v5xQ24-9iWQFeAoUGovHy/s320/marchsadness2016bracket.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-80669837863033994022016-03-28T07:39:00.000-07:002016-03-29T12:26:12.011-07:00Final Four Songs, Voting, and Guest Analysis from Pam Houston & Rick Moody <span style="background-color: white; color: #292f33; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 26px; letter-spacing: 0.26px; line-height: 32px; white-space: pre-wrap;">FINAL: (7) TRACY CHAPMAN 154, (1) Joy Division 90; (2) JEFF BUCKLEY 137, (1) The Cure 89</span><br />
<br />
For the final four, we've invited guest analysts Pam Houston and Rick Moody to give us their expert opinions on the songs in the Final Four and their sadnesses below, following the songs.<br />
<br />
First, the game polls (you may also vote via <a href="https://twitter.com/angermonsoon">@angermonsoon's Twitter feed</a>). Games are decided by the aggregate scores of both Twitter and blog polls, cast by 9am Tuesday.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table border="0" cellpadding="5" style="text-align: center; width: 100%;">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td><div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Final Four Game 1: </b><br />
Tracy Chapman vs Joy Division</div>
</td>
<td><div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Final Four Game 2: </b><br />
Jeff Buckley vs The Cure</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><div id="qp_all632711" style="width: 100%;">
<style>#qp_main632711 .qp_btna:hover input {background: rgb(255,215,169)!important;background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,215,169,1) 0%, rgba(255,209,157,1) 50%, rgba(255,200,137,1) 51%, rgba(255,240,223,1) 100%)!important;background: -webkit-gradient(linear, left top, left bottom, color-stop(0%,rgba(255,215,169,1)), color-stop(50%,rgba(255,209,157,1)), color-stop(51%,rgba(255,200,137,1)), color-stop(100%,rgba(255,240,223,1)))!important;background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,215,169,1) 0%,rgba(255,209,157,1) 50%,rgba(255,200,137,1) 51%,rgba(255,240,223,1) 100%)!important;background: -o-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,215,169,1) 0%,rgba(255,209,157,1) 50%,rgba(255,200,137,1) 51%,rgba(255,240,223,1) 100%)!important;background: -ms-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,215,169,1) 0%,rgba(255,209,157,1) 50%,rgba(255,200,137,1) 51%,rgba(255,240,223,1) 100%)!important;background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(255,215,169,1) 0%,rgba(255,209,157,1) 50%,rgba(255,200,137,1) 51%,rgba(255,240,223,1) 100%)!important;filter: progid:DXImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#ffd7a9', endColorstr='#fff0df',GradientType=0 )!important}</style><br />
<div cmt="0" fp="d31f42d9-26" id="qp_main632711" results="0" style="background: -moz-linear-gradient(top , rgba(117 , 122 , 129 , 1) 0% , rgba(91 , 95 , 103 , 1) 10% , rgba(69 , 72 , 77 , 1) 23% , rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 1) 100%); background: -ms-linear-gradient(top , rgba(117 , 122 , 129 , 1) 0% , rgba(91 , 95 , 103 , 1) 10% , rgba(69 , 72 , 77 , 1) 23% , rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 1) 100%); background: -o-linear-gradient(top , rgba(117 , 122 , 129 , 1) 0% , rgba(91 , 95 , 103 , 1) 10% , rgba(69 , 72 , 77 , 1) 23% , rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 1) 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top , rgba(117 , 122 , 129 , 1) 0% , rgba(91 , 95 , 103 , 1) 10% , rgba(69 , 72 , 77 , 1) 23% , rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom , rgba(117 , 122 , 129 , 1) 0% , rgba(91 , 95 , 103 , 1) 10% , rgba(69 , 72 , 77 , 1) 23% , rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 1) 100%); background: rgb(117 , 122 , 129); border-radius: 6px; border: 1px solid rgb(150 , 150 , 150); margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; zoom: 1;">
<div style="background: -moz-linear-gradient(top , rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 1) 0% , rgba(229 , 229 , 229 , 1) 100%); background: -ms-linear-gradient(top , rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 1) 0% , rgba(229 , 229 , 229 , 1) 100%); background: -o-linear-gradient(top , rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 1) 0% , rgba(229 , 229 , 229 , 1) 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top , rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 1) 0% , rgba(229 , 229 , 229 , 1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom , rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 1) 0% , rgba(229 , 229 , 229 , 1) 100%); background: rgb(255 , 255 , 255); border-radius: 6px; color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; margin-bottom: 10px; zoom: 1;">
<div style="padding: 10px;">
Final Four: Which is sadder? Vote by 9am 3/29</div>
</div>
<form action="//www.poll-maker.com/results632711xd31f42d9-26" id="qp_form632711" method="post" style="display: inline; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" target="_blank">
<div style="border-radius: 6px;">
<input name="qp_d632711" type="hidden" value="42457.6744560167-42457.6744460426" /><br />
<div class="qp_a" onclick="var c=this.getElementsByTagName('INPUT')[0]; if((!event.target?event.srcElement:event.target).tagName!='INPUT'){c.checked=(c.type=='radio'?true:!c.checked)};var i=this.parentNode.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('INPUT');for(var k=0;k!=i.length;k++){i[k].parentNode.parentNode.setAttribute('sel',i[k].checked?1:0)}" style="clear: both; color: rgb(255 , 255 , 255); display: block; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;">
<span style="cursor: inherit; display: block; padding-left: 30px;"><input name="qp_v632711" style="float: left; height: 18px; margin-left: -25px; margin-top: -2px; padding: 0px; width: 18px;" type="radio" value="1" />Atmosphere</span></div>
<div class="qp_a" onclick="var c=this.getElementsByTagName('INPUT')[0]; if((!event.target?event.srcElement:event.target).tagName!='INPUT'){c.checked=(c.type=='radio'?true:!c.checked)};var i=this.parentNode.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('INPUT');for(var k=0;k!=i.length;k++){i[k].parentNode.parentNode.setAttribute('sel',i[k].checked?1:0)}" style="clear: both; color: rgb(255 , 255 , 255); display: block; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;">
<span style="cursor: inherit; display: block; padding-left: 30px;"><input name="qp_v632711" style="float: left; height: 18px; margin-left: -25px; margin-top: -2px; padding: 0px; width: 18px;" type="radio" value="2" />Fast Car</span></div>
</div>
<div style="clear: both; margin-right: -5px; padding-top: 5px;">
<a class="qp_btna" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=697219816427349669#" style="text-decoration: none;"><input btype="v" name="qp_b632711" style="background: -moz-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: -ms-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: -o-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: rgb(226 , 226 , 226); border-radius: 10px; border: 1px solid rgb(255 , 255 , 255); color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; height: 30px; margin-right: 5px; margin-top: 5px; min-width: 80px; zoom: 1;" type="submit" value="Vote" /></a><a class="qp_btna" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=697219816427349669#" style="text-decoration: none;"><input btype="r" name="qp_b632711" style="background: -moz-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: -ms-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: -o-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: rgb(226 , 226 , 226); border-radius: 10px; border: 1px solid rgb(255 , 255 , 255); color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; height: 30px; margin-right: 5px; margin-top: 5px; min-width: 80px; zoom: 1;" type="submit" value="Results" /></a></div>
<a href="http://www.poll-maker.com/QuizMaker" id="qp_a632711" style="color: rgb(255 , 255 , 255); float: right; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: none;">make a quiz</a></form>
<div style="display: none;">
<div id="qp_rp632711" style="font-size: 11px; height: 1.5em; line-height: 1.5em; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; right: 5px; text-align: right; width: 5ex;">
</div>
<div id="qp_rv632711" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; padding-right: 3px; text-align: right; width: 0%;">
</div>
<div id="qp_rb632711" style="color: rgb(255 , 255 , 255); display: block; font-size: 12px; font-size: 12px; padding-right: 10px 5px;">
</div>
<div id="qp_rva632711" style="background: #006FB9; border-color: #006FB9;">
</div>
<div id="qp_rvb632711" style="background: #163463; border-color: #163463;">
</div>
<div id="qp_rvc632711" style="background: #5BCFFC; border-color: #1481AB;">
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<script language="javascript" src="//scripts.poll-maker.com/3012/scpolls.js"></script></td>
<td><div id="qp_all632707" style="width: 100%;">
<style>#qp_main632707 .qp_btna:hover input {background: rgb(255,215,169)!important;background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,215,169,1) 0%, rgba(255,209,157,1) 50%, rgba(255,200,137,1) 51%, rgba(255,240,223,1) 100%)!important;background: -webkit-gradient(linear, left top, left bottom, color-stop(0%,rgba(255,215,169,1)), color-stop(50%,rgba(255,209,157,1)), color-stop(51%,rgba(255,200,137,1)), color-stop(100%,rgba(255,240,223,1)))!important;background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,215,169,1) 0%,rgba(255,209,157,1) 50%,rgba(255,200,137,1) 51%,rgba(255,240,223,1) 100%)!important;background: -o-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,215,169,1) 0%,rgba(255,209,157,1) 50%,rgba(255,200,137,1) 51%,rgba(255,240,223,1) 100%)!important;background: -ms-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,215,169,1) 0%,rgba(255,209,157,1) 50%,rgba(255,200,137,1) 51%,rgba(255,240,223,1) 100%)!important;background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(255,215,169,1) 0%,rgba(255,209,157,1) 50%,rgba(255,200,137,1) 51%,rgba(255,240,223,1) 100%)!important;filter: progid:DXImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#ffd7a9', endColorstr='#fff0df',GradientType=0 )!important}</style><br />
<div cmt="0" fp="Bb0142B9-26" id="qp_main632707" results="0" style="background: -moz-linear-gradient(top , rgba(117 , 122 , 129 , 1) 0% , rgba(91 , 95 , 103 , 1) 10% , rgba(69 , 72 , 77 , 1) 23% , rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 1) 100%); background: -ms-linear-gradient(top , rgba(117 , 122 , 129 , 1) 0% , rgba(91 , 95 , 103 , 1) 10% , rgba(69 , 72 , 77 , 1) 23% , rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 1) 100%); background: -o-linear-gradient(top , rgba(117 , 122 , 129 , 1) 0% , rgba(91 , 95 , 103 , 1) 10% , rgba(69 , 72 , 77 , 1) 23% , rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 1) 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top , rgba(117 , 122 , 129 , 1) 0% , rgba(91 , 95 , 103 , 1) 10% , rgba(69 , 72 , 77 , 1) 23% , rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom , rgba(117 , 122 , 129 , 1) 0% , rgba(91 , 95 , 103 , 1) 10% , rgba(69 , 72 , 77 , 1) 23% , rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 1) 100%); background: rgb(117 , 122 , 129); border-radius: 6px; border: 1px solid rgb(150 , 150 , 150); margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; zoom: 1;">
<div style="background: -moz-linear-gradient(top , rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 1) 0% , rgba(229 , 229 , 229 , 1) 100%); background: -ms-linear-gradient(top , rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 1) 0% , rgba(229 , 229 , 229 , 1) 100%); background: -o-linear-gradient(top , rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 1) 0% , rgba(229 , 229 , 229 , 1) 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top , rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 1) 0% , rgba(229 , 229 , 229 , 1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom , rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 1) 0% , rgba(229 , 229 , 229 , 1) 100%); background: rgb(255 , 255 , 255); border-radius: 6px; color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; margin-bottom: 10px; zoom: 1;">
<div style="padding: 10px;">
Final Four: Which is Sadder? Vote by 9am 3/29</div>
</div>
<form action="//www.poll-maker.com/results632707xBb0142B9-26" id="qp_form632707" method="post" style="display: inline; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" target="_blank">
<div style="border-radius: 6px;">
<input name="qp_d632707" type="hidden" value="42457.6748495369-42457.6748379928" /><br />
<div class="qp_a" onclick="var c=this.getElementsByTagName('INPUT')[0]; if((!event.target?event.srcElement:event.target).tagName!='INPUT'){c.checked=(c.type=='radio'?true:!c.checked)};var i=this.parentNode.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('INPUT');for(var k=0;k!=i.length;k++){i[k].parentNode.parentNode.setAttribute('sel',i[k].checked?1:0)}" style="clear: both; color: rgb(255 , 255 , 255); display: block; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;">
<span style="cursor: inherit; display: block; padding-left: 30px;"><input name="qp_v632707" style="float: left; height: 18px; margin-left: -25px; margin-top: -2px; padding: 0px; width: 18px;" type="radio" value="1" />Hallelujah</span></div>
<div class="qp_a" onclick="var c=this.getElementsByTagName('INPUT')[0]; if((!event.target?event.srcElement:event.target).tagName!='INPUT'){c.checked=(c.type=='radio'?true:!c.checked)};var i=this.parentNode.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('INPUT');for(var k=0;k!=i.length;k++){i[k].parentNode.parentNode.setAttribute('sel',i[k].checked?1:0)}" style="clear: both; color: rgb(255 , 255 , 255); display: block; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;">
<span style="cursor: inherit; display: block; padding-left: 30px;"><input name="qp_v632707" style="float: left; height: 18px; margin-left: -25px; margin-top: -2px; padding: 0px; width: 18px;" type="radio" value="2" />Pictures of You</span></div>
</div>
<div style="clear: both; margin-right: -5px; padding-top: 5px;">
<a class="qp_btna" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=697219816427349669#" style="text-decoration: none;"><input btype="v" name="qp_b632707" style="background: -moz-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: -ms-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: -o-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: rgb(226 , 226 , 226); border-radius: 10px; border: 1px solid rgb(255 , 255 , 255); color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; height: 30px; margin-right: 5px; margin-top: 5px; min-width: 80px; zoom: 1;" type="submit" value="Vote" /></a><a class="qp_btna" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=697219816427349669#" style="text-decoration: none;"><input btype="r" name="qp_b632707" style="background: -moz-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: -ms-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: -o-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: rgb(226 , 226 , 226); border-radius: 10px; border: 1px solid rgb(255 , 255 , 255); color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; height: 30px; margin-right: 5px; margin-top: 5px; min-width: 80px; zoom: 1;" type="submit" value="Results" /></a></div>
<a href="http://www.doquizzes.com/" id="qp_a632707" style="color: rgb(255 , 255 , 255); float: right; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: none;">fun quizzes</a></form>
<div style="display: none;">
<div id="qp_rp632707" style="font-size: 11px; height: 1.5em; line-height: 1.5em; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; right: 5px; text-align: right; width: 5ex;">
</div>
<div id="qp_rv632707" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; padding-right: 3px; text-align: right; width: 0%;">
</div>
<div id="qp_rb632707" style="color: rgb(255 , 255 , 255); display: block; font-size: 12px; font-size: 12px; padding-right: 10px 5px;">
</div>
<div id="qp_rva632707" style="background: #006FB9; border-color: #006FB9;">
</div>
<div id="qp_rvb632707" style="background: #163463; border-color: #163463;">
</div>
<div id="qp_rvc632707" style="background: #5BCFFC; border-color: #1481AB;">
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<script language="javascript" src="//scripts.poll-maker.com/3012/scpolls.js"></script></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><div style="text-align: center;">
Trouble voting? Click <a href="http://www.poll-maker.com/poll632711xd31f42d9-26">here</a> to vote directly.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Songs & expert analysis below.</div>
</td>
<td><div style="text-align: center;">
Trouble voting? Click <a href="http://www.poll-maker.com/poll632707xBb0142B9-26">here</a> to vote directly.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Songs & expert analysis below.</div>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Before you give the songs a listen, you may want to get up to speed on our contenders. Here are links to our coverage, round-by-round, of each song in the final four:<br />
<br />
<span style="text-align: center;">(7) Tracy Chapman, "Fast Car" • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/elite-8-1-elliott-smith-vs-7-tracy.html">Elite 8</a> • </span><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-7-tracy-chapman-vs.html" style="text-align: center;">Sweet 16</a><span style="text-align: center;"> • </span><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/second-round-action-7-tracy-chapman-vs.html" style="text-align: center;">2nd round</a><span style="text-align: center;"> • </span><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/first-round-matchup-smiths-vs-tracy.html" style="text-align: center;">1st round</a><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">(1) Joy Division, "Atmosphere" • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/elite-8-1-joy-division-vs-2-low.html">Elite 8</a> • </span><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-1-joy-division-vs.html" style="text-align: center;">Sweet 16</a><span style="text-align: center;"> • </span><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/second-round-action-9-mazzy-star-vs-1.html" style="text-align: center;">2nd round</a><span style="text-align: center;"> • </span><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/first-round-matchup-erasure-at-joy.html" style="text-align: center;">1st round</a><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">(2) Jeff Buckley, "Hallelujah" • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/elite-8-1-neutral-milk-hotel-vs-2-jeff.html">Elite 8</a> • </span><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/the-sweet-sixteen-3-sinead-oconnor-vs-2.html" style="text-align: center;">Sweet 16</a><span style="text-align: center;"> • </span><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/second-round-10-smashing-pumpkins-vs-2.html" style="text-align: center;">2d round</a><span style="text-align: center;"> • </span><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/first-round-matchup-jeff-buckley-vs.html" style="text-align: center;">1st round</a><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">(1) Cure, "Pictures of You" • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/elite-8-1-cure-vs-2-radiohead.html">Elite 8</a> • </span><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/the-sweet-sixteen-3-tori-amos-vs-1-cure.html" style="text-align: center;">Sweet 16</a><span style="text-align: center;"> • </span><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/the-second-round-cure-vs-tom-waits.html" style="text-align: center;">2nd round</a><span style="text-align: center;"> • </span><a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/first-round-matchup-gear-daddies-at-cure.html" style="text-align: center;">1st round</a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Voting on both Final Four games ends Tuesday, 3/28 at 9am.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The Championship begins Wednesday, 3/29 at 9am.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">THE SONGS</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(1) Joy Division, "Atmosphere"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1EdUjlawLJM" width="560"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
vs</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(7) Tracy Chapman, "Fast Car"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/uTIB10eQnA0" width="560"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<hr />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(2) Jeff Buckley, "Hallelujah"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/y8AWFf7EAc4" width="420"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
vs</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(1) The Cure, "Pictures of You"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/X8UR2TFUp8w" width="420"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;">*</span><br />
<span style="color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">FINAL FOUR ANALYSIS: PAM HOUSTON</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
The first thing to think about is what sadness is, and what it is not. It is not, for instance, depression, nor angst, nor disaffection, even disaffection wearing an ironic hat and ironic sideburns, though it is often confused with all of these things. I would go so far as to say that sadness has more in common with happiness, than it has with any of the above, in that the sad person, if he has an agile mind and an open heart understands that sadness is both a gift and a privilege of the living. Sadness is happiness’s twin, and its coefficient; both states pure, intense and impermanent. Happiness is made all the more precious by the inevitable encroaching shadow of sadness, sadness made all the more poignant, by the fact that we <i>will</i> get over it, whether we want to or not.<br />
<br />
For a person who was not, in fact, a teenager in the mid 80’s, but a river-guiding, hunting-guiding twenty-something year old who did whatever she could to spend weeks and months in places so remote you couldn’t even get AM, Robert Smith’s eyeliner alone suggests that his gesture at sadness in "Pictures Of You" can’t possibly be more than that. Which is to say nothing of the highly processed guitar. That tinny mechanized effect that puts every measure of the song in the same emotional register suggests many things: slickness, disaffection—irony, certainly—but not sadness. The entire song doesn’t evoke even as much sadness as Buckley’s unhurried, subtle and expressive guitar intro on "Hallelujah"—those several measures of guitar—should Cure fans be willing to sit through them—evoke more real emotion of many kinds than anything in "Pictures of You."<br />
<br />
I want to be clear that I like The Cure, and I enjoyed dancing to them in that thrashing straight-limbed Linus and Lucy way we all danced in the mid 80’s. But Buckley’s "Hallelujah", the second-best version of that song in existence (Cohen’s own version edging it out only slightly), rises and falls and swells into sadness, and then falls back again, while The Cure hits a predictable chord progression and stays with it without variation. To compare the lyrics of the two songs seems almost cruel, since the Cure song’s one notable turn of phrase—you were bigger and brighter and wider than snow—is buried in a stanza that is so syntactically inelegant, I am still recovering from the line "As I ran to your heart to be near" when I get to it, and almost miss it. Compare that to "I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch and love is not a victory march, it’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah."<br />
<br />
I understand all too well how, for the disaffected, these lyrics seem over the top. Absurd in their grandiosity and sentimentality. And if you don’t like those, you really won’t like "I remember when I moved in you and the holy dove was moving too and every breath we drew was hallelujah." Those lyrics aren’t just sad, they’re sexy, because there is little in the world sexier than a writer who can appear to get sex and God and brokenness and power all mixed up together while remaining completely in control of each line. Every line of the Cohen song is filled with complexity of human nature, how love is about being broken, how brokenness creates the conditions for love and how love’s inevitable failure can do nothing but break a person further, while the Cure song is about looking at a girl’s picture and feeling bad. Buckley’s voice tone is perfect (though so is Cohen’s, in a much different way); he doesn’t try to make the song into anything, because the song is already everything, and he knows it.<br />
<br />
When I heard that "Fast Car" had made it into the Final Four I thought, “Oh no!” because while I knew I could to listen to it, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to actually hear it given how many times I have heard it in the produce section of the Whole Foods, or the elevator at the gynecologist’s on the way to a pap smear, or in the waiting room of the DMV. But when I tried to put all of that out of my mind and focus on the song, the lyrics, the voice tone, I thought, “Hey, this really is sad,” if a bit obvious, if a bit unsubtle, if a bit simplified. What I like best about the song is its narrative impulses, the story it tells in only a few short stanzas. Here the dream is to move out of the shelter and into the suburbs, where the women shoulder the entire economic burden and the drunken men spend more time with their friends then they do with their children, and the only potential way out—the Fast Car of the comparatively upbeat chorus is revealed as illusion before we have even had a chance to believe in it. "Fast Car" is about America, and I think we can all agree that in March 2016, America is one of the sadder places there has ever been.<br />
<br />
Suicide is also sad, there is no question about it. And had I been present to the music scene at the time Ian Curtis killed himself, the context of the song might overwhelm me to the point that would make me think the song itself was sad. But I wasn’t, and with all due respect—and I mean this—it <i>is</i> sad to lose someone you love even when you love them at the distance of celebrity—to those who were crushed when Curtis took his own life, I have to say I find nothing sad about the song itself. The lyrics are filled with more abstractions than an undergraduate poetry workshop, and we are back to the relentlessly repetitive and often generic chord progressions that make the 80’s the 80’s, the appeal of which those of us from the 60’s and 70’s never quite understood.<br />
<br />
Jeff Buckley, of course, is dead too, by drowning, which makes holding the album cover in one's hands sadder than if we were still alive, but I am not sure it makes the song any sadder. What makes a thing truly sad (or fill in any emotion here) for me, are specifics. The kitchen chair, the baffled king, the minor fall and the major lift, Gabriel himself. What inhibits emotion is abstraction: <i>Your confusion, my illusion, worn like a mask of self-hate. </i>Those words create no feeling in me whatsoever: no images, and therefore no feeling.<br />
<br />
Though word on the street is that "Atmosphere" will likely take the tournament, it will win because it reminds us of sad circumstance, and not, because it is, in fact, a sad song.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Pam Houston’s most recent book is </i>Contents May Have Shifted, <i>published by W.W. Norton in 2012. She is also the author of two collections of linked short stories, </i>Cowboys Are My Weakness <i>and </i>Waltzing the Cat, <i>the novel, </i>Sight Hound, <i>and a collection of essays, </i>A Little More About Me, <i>all published by W.W. Norton. Her stories have been selected for volumes of </i>Best American Short Stories, The O. Henry Awards, The 2013 Pushcart Prize, <i>and</i> Best American Short Stories of the Century.<i> She is the winner of the Western States Book Award, the WILLA award for contemporary fiction, The Evil Companions Literary Award and multiple teaching awards. She directs the literary nonprofit Writing By Writers, is professor of English at UC Davis, teaches in The Institute of American Indian Art’s Low-Rez MFA program, and at writer’s conferences around the country and the world. She lives on a ranch at 9,000 feet in Colorado near the headwaters of the Rio Grande.</i></blockquote>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<br /></div>
<hr />
<span style="color: red;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">FINAL FOUR ANALYSIS: RICK MOODY</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Why do we love the dead guys? And their unfulfilled promise?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
In a way you should love anyone <i>but</i> the dead guys, because the ones who stay alive, who continue with the work, there’s something more generous about them. They get on with it, they are dependable, they show up for their families and friends, they send thank you notes and remember birthdays, they go to little league games, or dance recitals.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But the dead guys and all the wreckage they leave behind are somehow alluring; somehow their siren song calls, and the plangent melody of it is very difficult to repel. Often we listen whether it’s the best thing for us or not.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Here you have two examples, each with his particular way of making an exit.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Ian Curtis, the lead singer of Joy Division, hanged himself, with the band at the acme of its career, on the eve of an American tour, possibly because of difficulties in his marriage, but also because playing live was becoming increasing strenuous, by reason of his seizures. Saying that he suffered from depression, saying that depression caused his self-slaughter, is sort of like saying that an earthquake is cataclysmic, or genocide is traumatic. It may be accurate, but the language renders the impression inert.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Jeff Buckley may have died accidentally, going for a swim in the Mississippi, and everyone will say that it was simply an <i>accidental</i> drowning, but the circumstances were not so tidy as to suggest that it was entirely accidental, and a deep reading of the life of the singer inevitably suggests more tonal colors than those suggested simply by the accidental. Additionally, Jeff Buckley is the <i>son</i> of a dead guy, the singer Tim Buckley, another example of promise unfulfilled, and so Jeff Buckley is a dead guy <i>legacy</i>, a second generation dead guy, whose death seems mandated by the work of fate.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The tendency in this situation is to want to read the work, the songs, as though the songs are premonitory, or as though the songs comment on the autobiographical narratives of the singers. In the cultural expanses of the world, this is a frequent tendency. “Riders On the Storm” somehow looks like Jim Morrison knew about his death; “All Apologies” somehow looks like Kurt Cobain knew about his death; <i>Oblivion</i>, by my colleague David Foster Wallace, seemed haunted by foreknowledge; all of those late paintings by Mark Rothko; Richard Farina’s novel is haunted; “Blues Run the Game” seems to prefigure another thirty or forty years of Jackson C. Frank’s life, “Stuck Inside a Cloud,” by George Harrison seems to describe his lung cancer from years before it felled him, “If Six Was Nine,” by Jimi Hendrix, actually contains that spoken section in the middle: “I’m the one who’s gonna have to die when it’s my time to die, so let me live my life, the . . . way . . . I . . . want . . . to,” and there is the recent example of David Bowie’s “Lazarus,” and on and on.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This interpretive action—in which the life is read backward as an effect of the artwork is natural, or, at least, it must be judged natural by virtue of its frequency, and is part of human consciousness as it attempts to reckon with art, as it tries to make art lasting and meaningful. By why always with the sad songs? Why always so sad? Why isn’t “Happy” by Pharrell Williams so premonitory, so luminously predictive in the same way?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
In “Mourning and Melancholia,” Freud tries to boil the two titular conditions down to a single description, and it looks like this: “Reality-testing has shown that the loved object no longer exists, and it proceeds to demand that libido shall be withdrawn from its attachment to that object. This demand arouses understandable opposition.” So much awareness, so much sensation, so much drama flows from this simple condition that Freud describes. You have only, for example, to watch a couple of videos of Ian Curtis performing (there’s a very moving and challenging live performance of “She’s Lost Control” on YouTube) to find the telltale signs of this very real ache. Watch Ian Curtis dance. It’s the mourning that is at the very heart of <i>being</i>. In this way loss and mourning are at the advent of understanding that self is different from, <i>e.g., </i>one’s <i>mother</i>.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And perhaps what is at stake then is that the elucidation of mourning and melancholia, the capturing of it in song, or in some other artistic medium, somehow enables an audience to complete its own separation from the lost beloved thing. Maybe the condition of being estranged from the “loved object” is best purged by the explication of it in artistic products. Loss calls to loss, grief calls to grief, across expanses of time and space, and finds its audience, finds its welcoming committee. The arrow hits the target, and the audience calls out its <i>hallelujahs</i>. The maker of the art, who after all is only expressing a feeling, somehow cannot appreciate how clearly he or she has hit the bullseye, and the redemption can take generations, and thus the martyrdom of the maker of the work, the sacrifice, is required for the interpretation to be complete.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Milton’s “<a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/173999">Lycidas</a>” immortalizes this, from the mourner’s perspective:</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew<br />
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.<br />
He must not float upon his wat'ry bier<br />
Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,<br />
Without the meed of some melodious tear.</blockquote>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And Shelley’s “<a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/174379">Adonais</a>,” which memorializes Keats' death, so similar to Jeff Buckley’s, takes up the same strain:</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
I weep for Adonais—he is dead!<br />
Oh, weep for Adonais! though our tears<br />
Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head!<br />
And thou, sad Hour, selected from all years<br />
To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure compeers,<br />
And teach them thine own sorrow, say: "With me<br />
Died Adonais; till the Future dares<br />
Forget the Past, his fate and fame shall be<br />
An echo and a light unto eternity!"</blockquote>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The melodious tear is that very sound: loss calling unto loss, of grief calling unto grief.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
When I was an undergraduate, I knew a guy, I think he was a med student, who took up with a young and ambitious and attractive gay man who was studying in the sort of art/film/semiotics ghetto where a lot of my friends were knights of higher education, and these two, the med student and the painter/filmmaker guy, were lovers for a year or so. Then the med student, who by then was painting mainly, did the unthinkable. He went <i>back over the fence,</i> and took up with a woman. It would have been, in those days, politically incorrect, but he seemed happy, having gone back over the fence, and who was going to talk him out of being happy. Life went on for some months, and we argued about Mao and Derrida and Bakhtin, but then the med student, now a painter, went missing, just <i>went missing, </i>and soon it appeared that the most dreadful thing had happened, that he had been murdered, in a park, late at night, not far from campus, a location known for gay cruising. I mean exactly what it appears I mean: <i>O weep, for he is dead.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This was about the time that I would have been listening to Joy Division, and the very first singles of New Order. I remember Ian Curtis’s death, which happened at the exact moment that I became aware of “Love Will Tear Us Apart,” the single that cemented the gravity and importance of Joy Division. I didn’t get the song at first. The kind of peppy synth melody that drove it didn’t make sense to me, or rather the mismatch of stridently sad lyrics and uptempo music somehow didn’t call to that feeling. But the b side of the single “These Days,” with the weird synth phasing thing that runs throughout, did it, and that led to “Decades,” the last song from <i>Closer</i>, which became sort of an anthem.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The death of my friend in the last semester of my college years became the end of college, the end of college was the end of my friend, and the collapse was located in the fact that the story was never followed by some idea of justice. My idea of justice was that justice was a thing that never quite came to pass (“Here are the young men, the weight on their shoulders”), never quite delivered its goods and services. Justice was where there was no real causal link between events and events that came after. The incredible resignation of “Decades,” which is very like the loss and resignation of “Atmosphere,” dirge, threnody, drone, was like the abjection of grief and the end of undergraduate years. We wept for the guy, our friend, and the weeping didn’t palliate, and there was nothing to express to his family, except that he had been loved once, and there were things in life that were inexplicable. Another guy, known to all of us, become psychotic, and moved into deeper and deeper stages of privation, until he was living on the street.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
To me, there is no music sadder than Joy Division, and even when the music is angry or occasionally kind of loud and fast, it doesn’t disguise that the basic orientation of the songs is to express that the relationships of daily life are power relationships in which disaffiliation and rejection are the inevitable outcome, in which every daily interaction has the risk of rejection and isolation liminal within it.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
However poetical and Keatsian Jeff Buckley’s death is, it’s an unavoidable fact that “Hallelujah” was written by someone else, and that someone else, at this point, is a man in his eighties, of remarkable constitution and wit and unparalleled self-definition, whose unmatched songbook is not simply about loss and grief, but about a whole gradient of feelings and perceptions that skitter across loss and grief, a gradient of feelings in which there is laughter, joy, serenity, and transcendence. “Hallelujah” is such a great song, and so often interpreted (for good or ill) that even the author of the song has called for a moratorium on new recordings, lest its power should be fully depleted.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Incredibly, Buckley’s interpretation does nothing to diminish the song. In fact, his incredibly naked recording, which consists entirely of guitar and voice, is an able, free, and ambitious recasting of the song. The vocal rises through a whispered understated performance to something much more majestic and powerful. Considering that Leonard Cohen’s voice is nothing to write home about, technically speaking, Buckley somehow manages to find an opportunity in what is frankly a masterpiece, a song that any songwriter would wish to have composed, and that opportunity has to do with <i>sheer interpretive capability.</i> Buckley was a great singer. He was not as singular and idiosyncratic as his dad was (listen to <i>Starsailor</i>, if you have not), or perhaps not as willing to go out on a limb, but he was a very powerful and moving singer. You can ogle a hundred singers on any of those televised singing contests, and not hear one of them, not even one, sing a syllable with the poise and emotive power of Jeff Buckley.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But he didn’t write the song. Which means that “Hallelujah” is more about his considerable gift for selling the composition, than it is about self-expression. Interpretive singing is about being the audience and the composer at the same moment, it’s about trying to inhabit, perform the composition, but from a distance in which one first knows the song as a listener (as a mourner, in search of articulations of mourning). The lasting effect of Grace, therefore, so many years after its release, is in part not about the singer-songwriter model, the confessional model of music, but about the performative model of music. As such, the sadness of the album, an album which is not so sad as it is about desire, is about Jeff Buckley’s death, and if there’s a premonitory aspect to the album, it has to do with its coincidental preoccupation with images of the hereafter in the title song and “Hallelujah.” To think of “Hallelujah,” that is, as willfully about sadness and death in the same way as “Atmosphere,” or, indeed, any song by Joy Division is to confuse historical moments, is to put the cart several horse lengths ahead of the horse.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
In summary, we love the dead guys, for the same disturbing reason that we love the dead girls, and that is that the living breathing person, the guy who is incredibly complex, who remembers the birthdays, and goes to the dance recitals, but who drives like an asshole sometimes, or who is just incredibly awkward in some social situations, this guy gets in the way of our own articulation of loss, in song, and novel, and painting, and film, because he’s not dead yet. And it’s awful that in some cases we need our artists to be dead, when to have them around would be so much better. I feel that way about them now, almost every day, that I would rather have them around, and maybe in that we can let the songs loose to tell their one emblematic story. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
<i>Rick Moody's most recent novel is </i>Hotels of North America. <i>He writes about music at </i>The Rumpus.</blockquote>
*<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbnw4EXNcAKfMRmO5mIjeHuQzAg0TTQ33OgmAELP25-5YZQNvSzH6NgfrVlgVPOrCI9CEboJA_F2UC3YbDinXhm7eSNPaS6LKYOQ2Qw3lDtqZc0eJ_n0w5c90bRoa-Dq5sv5AMapDrsLdz/s1600/finalfourgrid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbnw4EXNcAKfMRmO5mIjeHuQzAg0TTQ33OgmAELP25-5YZQNvSzH6NgfrVlgVPOrCI9CEboJA_F2UC3YbDinXhm7eSNPaS6LKYOQ2Qw3lDtqZc0eJ_n0w5c90bRoa-Dq5sv5AMapDrsLdz/s1600/finalfourgrid.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i>Now you decide. </i></div>
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-38976185740164639542016-03-26T13:23:00.002-07:002016-03-26T13:52:17.576-07:00The Final Four is decidedGood games finishing up this morning, with one surprising outcome, being that <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/elite-8-1-elliott-smith-vs-7-tracy.html">(7) Tracy Chapman's "Fast Car" upset (1) Elliott Smith's "Waltz #2" 85-69</a>. This was a huge game, with a huge result, sending Chapman onto the Final Four, where she will play (1) Joy Division. Smith is the second 1-seed to fall, after Jeff Buckley took down Neutral Milk Hotel yesterday to punch their own ticket to the Final Four. The Committee was divided on their predictions for this game, and rightly so. The voting was close, with Smith and Chapman trading leads until Chapman went up by 7 just before halftime. Elliott Smith never tied it back up, and his run at the sadness cup ends here.<br />
<br />
(14) Low, fresh off their huge upset over (2) Concrete Blonde on Wednesday, came into this game a little flat, but their traveling fans—best in the tournament in our estimation—got them into it. With a strong wind at their back, they got hot and hit shot after shot, and were leading at one point by more than 12, most of the votes coming from the Twitter poll (as you know, to make it as easy as possible for everyone to vote, we aggregate the Twitter poll with the blog voting). But shortly before halftime, Joy Division shifted into the zone defense, and that seemed to stymie Low, who looked gassed after playing with such little rest between games. JD took the lead and kept it, though Low made run after run to get back into it. <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/elite-8-1-joy-division-vs-2-low.html">JD ended up with a double-digit win, 74-60</a>, and it looks like Low grew out of the glass slipper. That score's misleading: this was a hard-fought, tough game from buzzer to buzzer. Brilliant season and a very deep run by Low. The fans should be proud of their effort, losing to what might very possibly be an unbeatable Joy Division team that we think we'll see in the final and maybe cutting down the nets after it.<br />
<br />
Here's your updated bracket:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpm4Gl88EvYhoNcdUs6jCz1cil5A5uMs0LVYO_oKjaFD1K9x658qLaHQ4o7eeifzfk_-ZK7V_QJqAGN4Ki5QZLOTZfjnV1otkl6pNImi4n6v5vvPatciSnF3w7kJ2jO4wjPaTSGWQ7Tl2S/s1600/marchsadness2016bracket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpm4Gl88EvYhoNcdUs6jCz1cil5A5uMs0LVYO_oKjaFD1K9x658qLaHQ4o7eeifzfk_-ZK7V_QJqAGN4Ki5QZLOTZfjnV1otkl6pNImi4n6v5vvPatciSnF3w7kJ2jO4wjPaTSGWQ7Tl2S/s320/marchsadness2016bracket.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
So the Final Four is set: on Monday morning we'll see (1) Joy Division against (7) Tracy Chapman and (2) Jeff Buckley versus (1) The Cure. Our guest analysts will be here to offer their takes and analytics then. We have only three games left in March Sadness. Though your team may have been sent home and your bracket busted, there's still time to choose another hero to back in the last few days. Final Four games are Monday, finishing 9am Tuesday morning. The Sadness Championship is Wednesday. See you there.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-57661922371287958572016-03-25T09:06:00.002-07:002016-03-25T09:06:37.010-07:00Friday's Scores & Today's Elite 8 GamesWe're trying to keep the analysis here short so as not to push the new game posts too far down the screen. We'll post more analysis this weekend since the Final Four doesn't begin until Monday.<br />
<br />
Scores: (<a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/elite-8-1-neutral-milk-hotel-vs-2-jeff.html">2) Jeff Buckley soundly beat a divisive (1) Neutral Milk Hotel 74-44</a>. And <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/elite-8-1-cure-vs-2-radiohead.html">(1) The Cure gets by (2) Radiohead 65-58</a> on free throws at the end.<br />
<br />
But today's Elite Eight games each feature Cinderella candidates: first there's a scrappy <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/elite-8-1-joy-division-vs-2-low.html">(14) Low up against the legendary (1) Joy Division</a>. Tough game, as Low knows:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en">
<div dir="ltr" lang="en">
It's been a great season and we did well but JD is going to be tuff... <a href="https://t.co/CoZ3OrZNaq">https://t.co/CoZ3OrZNaq</a></div>
— Low (@lowtheband) <a href="https://twitter.com/lowtheband/status/713036282897641472">March 24, 2016</a></blockquote>
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script><br />
<br />
But you got a shot, Low! As they say, don't stop believin' (also a good candidate for a song for Low to cover, <a href="http://www.avclub.com/video/low-covers-toto-53049">AV Club style</a>?). Your fans travel well, and we suspect there are more out there who listen in to this tournament. And there's <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/elite-8-1-elliott-smith-vs-7-tracy.html">(7) Tracy Chapman up against (1) Elliott Smith</a>, which we think will be closer than anyone has a right to expect. Can Cleveland (Chapman's a Cleveland girl) pull off its biggest win of the year? YOU DECIDE... & Final Four on MONDAYUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-66913573175742217002016-03-25T08:12:00.001-07:002016-03-26T11:13:41.417-07:00ELITE 8: (1) ELLIOTT SMITH vs (7) TRACY CHAPMAN<div style="text-align: center;">
FINAL SCORE: (7) TRACY CHAPMAN 85, (1) Elliott Smith 69<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
By now you've probably read enough analysis of the Elite Eight songs already, but if you missed it, get up to speed, starting with the Sweet Sixteen coverage below. For this game we offer you our expert analysis of each song in eight categories. Ratings are of five possible teardrops, five being the maximum, one teardrop being the minimum. The Committee Members also offer their predictions below (which may or may not correspond with their votes). </div>
<br />
(1) Elliott Smith, "Waltz #2" • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-4-gary-jules-vs-1.html">Sweet 16</a> • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/second-round-action-1-elliott-smith-vs.html">2nd round</a> • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/first-round-matchup-10000-maniacs-vs.html">1st round</a><br />
(7) Tracy Chapman, "Fast Car" • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-7-tracy-chapman-vs.html">Sweet 16</a> • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/second-round-action-7-tracy-chapman-vs.html">2nd round</a> • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/first-round-matchup-smiths-vs-tracy.html">1st round</a><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5RUJISVGqcHajdCtt8pJNlhFkifqbUDobszm0wLUJA01oNCq9lTB1BfzaEJqdQc5feXRpWDGWvrYS2Q0CU_ZPE_VyFEcejRrlWkAwANtwCayH7Vy11B7Apbi8cLTBWHicVL4LhxjFuujo/s1600/elite8_games1fri1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5RUJISVGqcHajdCtt8pJNlhFkifqbUDobszm0wLUJA01oNCq9lTB1BfzaEJqdQc5feXRpWDGWvrYS2Q0CU_ZPE_VyFEcejRrlWkAwANtwCayH7Vy11B7Apbi8cLTBWHicVL4LhxjFuujo/s1600/elite8_games1fri1.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
*<br />
<br />
(1) Elliott Smith, "Waltz #2"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/WL1ly1GMwwc" width="420"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
vs.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(7) Tracy Chapman, “Fast Car”<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/uTIB10eQnA0" width="560"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: times; margin: 0px;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: times; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-9176522124975747082016-03-25T08:12:00.000-07:002016-03-26T11:14:09.690-07:00ELITE 8: (1) JOY DIVISION vs (2) LOW<div style="text-align: center;">
FINAL SCORE: (1) JOY DIVISION 74, (14) Low 60<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
By now you've probably read enough analysis of the Elite Eight songs already, but if you missed it, get up to speed, starting with the Sweet Sixteen coverage below. For this game we offer you our expert analysis of each song in eight categories. Ratings are of five possible teardrops, five being the maximum, one teardrop being the minimum, meaning none. The Committee Members also offer their predictions below (which may or may not correspond with their votes). </div>
<br />
(1) Joy Division, "Atmosphere" • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-1-joy-division-vs.html">Sweet 16</a> • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/second-round-action-9-mazzy-star-vs-1.html">2nd round</a> • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/first-round-matchup-erasure-at-joy.html">1st round</a><br />
(14) Low, "Words" • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-14-low-vs-2.html">Sweet 16</a> • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/second-round-action-14-low-vs-6-crowded.html">2d round</a> • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/first-round-matchup-u2-vs-low.html">1st round</a><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU5T30HmrtiKM3yHDOczhKX8_SgV7d_8wK50LjmcUNRkUbhzqEN5AHLQjbaT4oPGYAVqeKFiVa2yeXTIB8livXq-K_APr5Dq9Jtbfhf-b6UYfLSeDov1_yAy-R0Mtws1kAQ5Oqykb5cBlP/s1600/elite8_games1fri2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU5T30HmrtiKM3yHDOczhKX8_SgV7d_8wK50LjmcUNRkUbhzqEN5AHLQjbaT4oPGYAVqeKFiVa2yeXTIB8livXq-K_APr5Dq9Jtbfhf-b6UYfLSeDov1_yAy-R0Mtws1kAQ5Oqykb5cBlP/s1600/elite8_games1fri2.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
*<br />
<br />
(1) Joy Division, "Atmosphere"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1EdUjlawLJM" width="560"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
vs.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(14) Low, “Words”<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/4AzLgswmJxA" width="420"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: times; text-align: center;">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
</div>
</div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-11479515061559959622016-03-24T09:34:00.002-07:002016-03-24T09:49:31.006-07:00Thursday's scores; the ELITE 8 action begins today Real brief update since I'm in the middle of finishing an article on sad songs & the tournament this morning to go live Monday on the day of the March Sadness Final Four. So today we had a major upset, with <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-14-low-vs-2.html">(14) Low holding off a charging (2) Concrete Blonde 73-64</a> in the last hour regardless of <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-14-low-vs-2.html">Megan Campbell's great advocacy for "Joey.</a>" Did we see them getting this far? To be honest, we did not, but we're pleased they did. In the next chapter, Low will meet (1) Joy Division in the Elite Eight Friday, since <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-1-joy-division-vs.html">JD demolished (5) PJ Harvey & Nick Cave 75-24</a> in spite of <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-1-joy-division-vs.html">an outstanding essay by Nicole Walker</a>.<br />
<br />
Today we have the first half of the Elite Eight, a battle of the 1s and 2s: <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/elite-8-1-cure-vs-2-radiohead.html">(1) The Cure's "Pictures of You" vs (2) Radiohead's "Fake Plastic Trees</a>" and <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/elite-8-1-neutral-milk-hotel-vs-2-jeff.html">(1) Neutral Milk Hotel's "Two-Headed Boy" taking on (2) Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah.</a>"<br />
<br />
You may notice that for the Elite Eight we've put the polls first thing in the game posts (and The Committee offers its graphic analysis and predictions) so as to make voting a little easier. Do the decisions get harder and more wrenching as we get closer to the end of the tournament? Yes indeed they do. And that's where the bracket starts to tell you things about yourself.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-46244533959539820562016-03-24T09:00:00.001-07:002016-03-25T09:08:21.895-07:00ELITE 8: (1) NEUTRAL MILK HOTEL vs (2) JEFF BUCKLEY<div id="qp_all629163" style="width: 100%;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
FINAL SCORE: JEFF BUCKLEY 74, NEUTRAL MILK HOTEL 44</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
By now you've probably read enough analysis of the Elite Eight songs already, but if you missed it, get up to speed, starting with the Sweet Sixteen coverage below. For this game we offer you our expert analysis of each song in eight categories. Ratings are of five possible teardrops, five being the maximum, one teardrop being the minimum, meaning none. The Committee Members also offer their predictions below (which may or may not correspond with their votes). </div>
<br />
(1) Neutral Milk Hotel, "Two-Headed Boy" • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/the-sweet-sixteen-13-church-vs-1.html">Sweet 16</a> • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/second-round-9-new-order-vs-1-neutral.html">2nd round</a> • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/first-round-matchup-violent-femmes-at.html">1st round</a><br />
(2) Jeff Buckley, "Hallelujah" • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/the-sweet-sixteen-3-sinead-oconnor-vs-2.html">Sweet 16</a> • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/second-round-10-smashing-pumpkins-vs-2.html">2d round</a> • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/first-round-matchup-jeff-buckley-vs.html">1st round</a><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjj6eKibY21oM5_t9hh4XsE578aeU6FTMeGQoCbbT80bOkngUF_tMGNFirOfKaNPKYAT-8acq-Qr0ARjfGO6K-kXxS50Yz_OOX_mlgVQLOKH8uQ4A8P2-f2qVEDvXg4hIQQ_PRtRxsZbh/s1600/elite8_games1thu4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjj6eKibY21oM5_t9hh4XsE578aeU6FTMeGQoCbbT80bOkngUF_tMGNFirOfKaNPKYAT-8acq-Qr0ARjfGO6K-kXxS50Yz_OOX_mlgVQLOKH8uQ4A8P2-f2qVEDvXg4hIQQ_PRtRxsZbh/s1600/elite8_games1thu4.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<br />
*<br />
<br />
(1) Neutral Milk Hotel, "Two-Headed Boy"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/TudLjZ_4VhU" width="420"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
vs.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(2) Jeff Buckley, “Hallelujah”<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/y8AWFf7EAc4" width="420"></iframe></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-3585815231009939832016-03-24T09:00:00.000-07:002016-03-25T09:08:02.612-07:00ELITE 8: (1) THE CURE vs (2) RADIOHEAD<div style="text-align: center;">
FINAL SCORE: CURE 65 RADIOHEAD 58</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
By now you've probably read enough analysis of the Elite Eight songs already, but if you missed it, get up to speed, starting with the Sweet Sixteen coverage below. For this game we offer you our expert analysis of each song in eight categories that may or may not be meaningful to you in deciding your vote. Ratings are of five possible teardrops, five being the maximum, one the minimum. The Committee Members also offer their game predictions below (which may or may not correspond with their votes and the leanings of their hearts). </div>
<br />
(1) Cure, "Pictures of You" • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/the-sweet-sixteen-3-tori-amos-vs-1-cure.html">Sweet 16</a> • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/the-second-round-cure-vs-tom-waits.html">2nd round</a> • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/first-round-matchup-gear-daddies-at-cure.html">1st round</a><br />
(2) Radiohead, "Fake Plastic Trees" • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/the-sweet-sixteen-2-radiohead-vs-6-this.html">Sweet 16</a> • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/the-second-round-nine-inch-nails-vs.html">2d round</a> • <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/first-round-matchup-liz-phair-at.html">1st round</a><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfgTpoWt2zRC13dpDouD9Ha8Ged_DFTkTesmVHK1v26UEqLfTd5K7H3R-D_uK0vBamYCwzEA7IUfPBCexAj3kL6Ol8ILW2GdYZgzD1YGmHJb1KVwIVzMie16M0tp4mO5PlzfnOzjk-BMjx/s1600/elite8_games1thu3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfgTpoWt2zRC13dpDouD9Ha8Ged_DFTkTesmVHK1v26UEqLfTd5K7H3R-D_uK0vBamYCwzEA7IUfPBCexAj3kL6Ol8ILW2GdYZgzD1YGmHJb1KVwIVzMie16M0tp4mO5PlzfnOzjk-BMjx/s1600/elite8_games1thu3.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
*<br />
<br />
(1) The Cure, "Pictures of You"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/X8UR2TFUp8w" width="420"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
vs.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(2) Radiohead, “Fake Plastic Trees”<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/n5h0qHwNrHk" width="420"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-51927756743435780602016-03-23T09:15:00.004-07:002016-03-23T09:15:51.861-07:00Wednesday Sweet 16 Scores & ScheduleFirst, a reminder to vote on the last of the Sweet Sixteen games today: <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-14-low-vs-2.html">(14) Low vs (2) Concrete Blonde</a> and <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-1-joy-division-vs.html">(1) Joy Division vs (5) PJ Harvey & Nick Cave</a>. Voting ends 3/24 at 9am Arizona time.<br />
<br />
Or, if you prefer to just read the essays, then: <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-14-low-vs-2.html">Kenneth Caldwell weighs in on the merits of "Words" vs. Megan Campbell on the sadness of "Joey."</a> And <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-1-joy-division-vs.html">Nicole Walker reps PJ Harvey & Nick Cave, and also, randomly, William Blake, Bongwater, Velvet Underground, and Gordon Lightfoot vs. Kate Bernheimer's dive into old school days with "Atmosphere."</a><br />
<br />
Or: your scores from the games that just finished:<br />
<br />
(1) ELLIOTT SMITH 78, (4) Gary Jules 44<br />
(7) TRACY CHAPMAN 74, (6) Kate Bush 53<br />
<br />
Good news, then: Smith and Chapman will meet in the Elite Eight on Friday. I'll save the analysis for tomorrow's wrap-up. The March Sadness Elite 8 games tip-off tomorrow at 9am, and it's all the top seeds bringing it: (1) The Cure vs (2) Radiohead and (1) Neutral Milk Hotel vs (2) Jeff Buckley.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-12831527917881777122016-03-23T08:34:00.001-07:002016-03-24T14:07:51.368-07:00Sweet Sixteen Action: (1) JOY DIVISION vs (5) PJ HARVEY & NICK CAVE<div id="qp_all625995" style="width: 100%;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
FINAL SCORE: (1) JOY DIVISION 75, (5) PJ Harvey & Nick Cave 24</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
*<br />
<br />
(1) Joy Division, "Atmosphere"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1EdUjlawLJM" width="560"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i><i>Analysis by Kate Bernheimer</i></div>
<br />
Sometime in the early 1980s, my little sister bought a New Order record, most likely at our Uncle Alvin’s “Music and Camera Store” in Newton Center, Massachusetts. She danced to it a lot in her bedroom:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB8VtxcOowkX6OiYmn84PAydAcANdOtuuYFODkOcaT7us0Yhd56S71DuULc9P8pJplFJjk1FS_h_AhkXDT3uRE_pGqIjMWNeDcb6VBqCDRm_QQ_ksvDnUI4OTj-3Ual1l-Nr7rBOMheu6O/s1600/jd1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB8VtxcOowkX6OiYmn84PAydAcANdOtuuYFODkOcaT7us0Yhd56S71DuULc9P8pJplFJjk1FS_h_AhkXDT3uRE_pGqIjMWNeDcb6VBqCDRm_QQ_ksvDnUI4OTj-3Ual1l-Nr7rBOMheu6O/s1600/jd1.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This was surprising. For quite a few years up to her New Order obsession, she had precisely two records she would play over and over again: the single of Kenny Rogers’ "The Gambler” and the soundtrack from the Broadway show <i>Annie.</i></div>
<br />
It wasn’t only her sudden style of dancing—her new way of being—that surprised me. The music surprised me. The music startled me. I couldn’t believe there were actually kids my age making music who felt the way I felt: SAD and BAD in the 1980s. <i>There were other weirdos out there?</i><br />
<br />
Around this time I miraculously became friends with Penelope and Sarah, two of the coolest girls I ever have met. I hung out with them as often as they would let me. Sometimes after school, we’d have tons of coffee and cigarettes at Pewter Pot:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnLhdJDX2pEi0nIZesE5BkyDuUzSTG_9w_laDvww-gDXkf-IbruLnllPKzWhMQwfkr_Ccb47jxA2DKTNIUCZEHRL4FbrwlT_cBO9Cu4-X7bR-hJeDmEidYs_SCjSgWd4MzwX3ncfbfOGtL/s1600/jd2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnLhdJDX2pEi0nIZesE5BkyDuUzSTG_9w_laDvww-gDXkf-IbruLnllPKzWhMQwfkr_Ccb47jxA2DKTNIUCZEHRL4FbrwlT_cBO9Cu4-X7bR-hJeDmEidYs_SCjSgWd4MzwX3ncfbfOGtL/s1600/jd2.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Coffee and cigarettes deranged our already deranged minds. We didn’t know how to harness whatever feelings we were feeling. In tenth grade English class our sensitive, liberal teachers had us keep journals and hand them in weekly and we were told to write down everything that we thought and we felt and were allowed to fold over pages we didn’t want our teachers to read. Penelope and Sarah and I were suspicious. In a frenzy of inspiration (and possibly rage) we invented and described, in those spiral-bound notebooks, a wild Sapphic triangle among us, set in the suburban woods of Waban, our town. Carefully, we folded over the pages.<br />
<br />
The next week we were called in by the teachers. They were very troubled by our affair, we were told. They wanted to help us. Of course they became quite angry when we told them we had just wanted to see if they were liars. And though we laughed about it for days afterwards, bitterness lingered. <i>Who could we trust?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
And it was in the 1980s that my wild older sister—in a bizarre stroke of kindness, or maybe my parents had made her—invited me to visit her at college for a weekend. The first night I was there, she dressed up in clothes I never had seen her wear in the suburbs:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmSQQny_5HHWeIheGx-qEj4eU49MxuqXj9Ef6QUHpJ_8Ya0ddfCQVBlKcnVkUPU4bvNIar_dAdlGQz4tfMQ1PCItAZXxm2olCH4GVHK9JAHjruVeoq-_opu33XhOuGMR1Esr6mU9pOkIr/s1600/jd3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmSQQny_5HHWeIheGx-qEj4eU49MxuqXj9Ef6QUHpJ_8Ya0ddfCQVBlKcnVkUPU4bvNIar_dAdlGQz4tfMQ1PCItAZXxm2olCH4GVHK9JAHjruVeoq-_opu33XhOuGMR1Esr6mU9pOkIr/s1600/jd3.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
That night she let me go with her and two of her friends to the college gymnasium to see an REM show. It was the first time I tried a particular drug that kept me awake all night, which was too bad as she had brought me back to her dorm room pretty early and gone out again with her friends, so I was awake and jittery and became rather frightened by how different (and how good) that night felt from the thousands of nights I had lived up to then in the beautiful but strangling suburbs. On the rotary telephone I called a friend who tells me now that I jabbered on for hours about how my life <i>had been irreversibly changed by a band.</i> The next day my sister took me to a hair salon and I got a perm and a mullet. (I don’t have a photo of that.)<br />
<br />
Thankfully, or thanklessly, nothing is forever.<br />
<br />
Which is the bold cliché that brings me to Joy Division’s damning and damn sad anthem of dread, “Atmosphere.” I first heard this song in the 1980s, during an incomprehensibly fogged and hurtful awakening.<br />
<br />
It was around that time I sat in silence every day at The Faggot Table in the school cafeteria. The Faggot Table was well below The Loser Table. It was the bottom. We faggots didn’t even dare speak to each other. Who knew what would happen if one of us spoke. Some days a select few of us—and I was always among the select few—had our textbooks grabbed out of our hands as we left the cafeteria, by The Tough Kids (these were the kids who smoked in the breezeway with the teachers between classes, the boys whose laps the French teacher sat in during French class). The books were taken outside and thrown down a stairwell. The Spit Pit, it was called. We’d have to descend the concrete steps to retrieve them. And you can imagine what happened when we were down there; spit was involved, but sometimes “spit” was putting it nicely, if you want to consider the implications of that. My locker was sometimes decorated with lipstick graffiti in the morning: faggot, weirdo, lesbo, etc.<br />
<br />
Joy Division made music for outcasts. (The band’s name derives from what the Nazis called brothels in concentration camps, a chilling detail.) Ian Curtis apparently thought he was a freak in part because of his epilepsy. He <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F7QOvO7BycQ">danced like an angelic matchstick on fire</a>. He was sad. And like many outcasts he suffered sadness—a most important human emotion—in silence. His bandmate, Peter Hook, writes, “[H]e never wanted to upset you, so he'd tell you what you wanted to hear.”<br />
<br />
Listening to “Atmosphere” one hears a sepulchral song of mourning and shame. And those tribal-sounding drums in "Atmosphere" have such urgency, especially in contrast with the mournful music—they’re so loud in the mix. Joy Division always made the underpinnings of the music important. The drums, the bass. The deep structure is very important. Who is down there? What happened to them?<br />
<br />
A friend told me recently that Ian Curtis hanged himself while leaving Iggy Pop's "The Idiot" on repeat, for the people who discovered his body to find, another chilling detail. ”Don't walk away in silence....”—well, that's exactly what Ian Curtis did, with his suicide. He walked away in silence. By the time most people heard the music he made, he was dead. Those silences echoed in the music—and they pervaded the atmosphere of my late teens and early 20s. My friend Sarah walked away in silence. Also, on air. She leapt off of a building in Boston when she was 40.<br />
<br />
But when we were seventeen, Sarah and I went to college together. It was 1984. We had gone to our college interviews together in matching pink mini skirts, pink sneakers, white shirts (the same outfits we’d worn to see The Go-Gos concert that year). In college, or so it seemed, Sarah flourished—wrote award-winning poetry, joined a band called Da Grotty and sang Nancy Sinatra cover songs in knee-high white boots, bleached her hair. Me? After desperately wanting to escape Waban, where we’d grown up (a town I still somehow ardently love), I found myself terribly homesick, anxiously taking the Peter Pan Bus Line home every weekend. That first year of college, Ronald Reagan was re-elected. I remember watching Walter Mondale’s concession speech with a bunch of stoned, snobby strangers in a smelly dorm living room (waiting for my turn at the pay phone to call my parents). Mondale gravely said on the screen, “Tonight especially I think of the poor, the unemployed, the elderly, the handicapped, the helpless and the sad, and they need us tonight.”<br />
<br />
In some ways, of course, the 1980s were a time of joy for me, when I think of the <i>music</i>—the crazy all-night dancing to The Cure, Bronski Beat, Joy Division, New Order, Tears for Fears, The Replacements, REM. Music for outcasts. A place to belong. Yet still...there is danger, always danger, endless talking, confusion, illusion. Division. Danger, always danger. Don't walk away. Joy Division, I will always love you.<br />
<br />
<i>Kate Bernheimer is the author of a novel trilogy and two story collections, including </i>How a Mother Weaned Her Girl from Fairy Tales, <i>and the editor of four anthologies, including the World Fantasy Award winning and bestselling </i>My Mother She Killed Me, My Father He Ate Me: Forty New Fairy Tales. <i>Her recent novella, </i>Office at Night, <i>co-authored with Laird Hunt, was a finalist for the 2015 Shirley Jackson Awards.</i><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
vs.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(5) PJ Harvey & Nick Cave, “Henry Lee”<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/uHdNCHomHlU" width="420"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Analysis by <a href="https://twitter.com/nikwalkotter">Nicole Walker</a></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every year,
Ander and Megan send Erik and me a CD/mixtape/playlist for Christmas.
Between Erik and the two of them, they are compendia of musical knowledge,
especially of the 90s. My lonely, sad (saddest!) brain cannot compete. But I do
know a couple bands they don’t. I couldn’t find my Bongwater CD when we all
lived in Michigan and spent a lot of time indoors listening to music because
winter is real in Michigan. Instead of Bongwater,
I forced them to listen to Gordon Lightfoot, whom they knew but whom they did
not fully appreciate until I sang to them the many verses of "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald," which takes place outdoors on Lake Superior near
where Ander grew up, giving us a sense of the difficulty of being outdoors in
Michigan (<i>e.g.</i> "The winds of November come early").</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"></span>After we
all moved to Arizona, they to Tucson, Erik and me to Flagstaff, they came to
visit. I found my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bongwater</i> CD and I
made them listen to the whole of it indoors because it was winter and Flagstaff
is not Tucson and winter is winter although not Michigan winter. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When we got to the song "<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nick Cave Dolls"</span> I told them to listen closely as Ann Magnuson speak-sings, "Is it
politically correct to even be here? / I mean, look what happened to
Dorothy Stratton. / Then I decide... / 'Oh, the hell with it, I'm
horny!'"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When, at the end of the song, Magnuson sings “They make Nick
Cave Dolls now. I want one,” I say to Megan, “Now I know what to get you for
Christmas.” Bongwater is a very
indoor band. The epic song is about AIDS and Avenue A which where all the bars
are definitely indoors. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Megan knows
Nick Cave way better than I. I only know about Nick Cave’s haunting voice. To
me, he is of the David Lynch, Blue Velvet world. I picture him inside Jazz
Clubs. I don’t think he’s seen the light of day. In "Henry Lee," Harvey comments on his lily-white skin. They’re both
pale as vampires—no outdoor danger here. He looks cute and he sounds good but
he probably wants to break my fingers. I do not know what PJ Harvey sees in
him. Why is she hanging all over him? Who is he to her? Where the hell is her
daughter: big fish, little fish? Isn’t she supposed to be a role model? Harvey,
descended from the Ann Magnusons and Laurie Andersons of the punk rock world,
should not be so into him, although, admittedly, she looks like she’s about to eat
his face. Possibly she is predatory. I can imagine PJ and Laurie Anderson
together, singing as Nick Cave cautiously steps outside the club, “Sharkey
says: I turn around, it's fear. I turn around again, and it's love. Nobody
knows me. Nobody knows my name. You know? They're growing mechanical
trees. They grow to their full height. And then they chop themselves down.” It’s
better to get inside where there are no trees, mechanical or otherwise and
where people know your name.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sharkey and
Nick Cave and the mechanical trees are going down. Harvey tries to get him indoors
but, like Henry Lee, he finds he likes it out there, outside like lovers and
heroin survivors and Elliott Smith, who is from Portland, which is a place as
wet on the inside as the outside and who is also a contender here (although not
against this song. Henry Lee is the saddest song. Please do not walk away from
this one). According to Megan’s write-up, Henry Lee is short for heroin, or, rather, the bird is the heroin,
sticking poor Henry Lee in the arm over and over again but that’s what nature
will do to you in either bird or syringe form. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I
think, in this song, the outdoors are as dangerous as heroin-birds. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Henry Lee"'s opening riff pays homage to Velvet
Underground’s "Perfect Day" which
seemed like it was going to be such a happy song: Sangria in the park, feeding
animals as the zoo and then suddenly, “It’s such a perfect day. You just keep
me hanging on.” You, lovely zoo-going partner, have gone from fun times to
on-the-rope times. You, sunshine, are desperation. You, heroin, you double-crossing
backstabber, are “going to reap just what you sow.” Things started so well but
I believe the cautionary tale here is, don’t go outside with Lou Reed. Don’t go
outside with either Harvey or Cave. Look what they encourage the bird to do to
Henry Lee: "A little bird lit down on Henry Lee / Come take him by his lily-white hands / Come take him by his feet / And throw him in this deep deep well / Which is more than one hundred feet / And the wind did howl and the wind did blow.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Throwing kids in the well. That’s what we do outside, the
singers sing. Look what happens with the Violent Femmes, an indoor band if
there ever was one, goes outside: "'Come, little daughter,' I said to the youngest one / 'Put your coat on, we'll have some fun / We'll go out to mountains, the one to explore.'"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But if your family's starving and this little one is just
one more mouth to feed, well, then, "I led her to a hole, a deep black well: / I said, 'Make a wish, make sure and not tell / And close your eyes, dear, and count to seven / You know your papa loves you; good children go to heaven / You know your papa loves you; good children go to heaven.'"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or even the sad, song from <i>The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part I </i>where the lovers are to meet at the Hanging
Tree. Meeting outdoors is the fast-track toward a dying place: "Are you, are you / Coming to the tree? / Where dead man called out / For his love to flee. / Strange things did happen here /No stranger would it be / If we met at midnight / In the hanging tree."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Listen. It
might be sad to die indoors but stabbing yourself in the stomach or succumbing
to an overdose, your body wrapped around the toilet, is not nearly as sad as
dying outdoors. Indoors, the hope of someone coming by, ringing you up, even
the sound of voices on the television mean that you don’t die entirely alone.
Or even better, maybe someone comes by in time to stop you. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, as William Blake’s "The Little
Boy Lost" knows, there’s no hope in the outdoors.</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
The night was dark no father was there<br />
The child was wet with
dew.<br />
The mire was deep, & the child did weep<br />
And away the vapour
flew.</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The outdoors are the saddest dying place even if, in Henry
Lee’s case, heroin is the bringing of the outdoors inside.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is the
saddest song. Henry Lee is a little kid outside in the world with no parents.
PJ Harvey, Little Fish Big Fish swimming in the water, come back man and give
me my daughter, has already lost one of her children. Nick Cave, barren and
trapped in a too-big suit at the jazz club, can’t find his son. Out there,
where there are real mountain lions and real bears and real heroin and real
birds with plungers for claws, there is no one. There is no sadder thing than
being lost in the howling and moaning wind with no parents and no way home.
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Nicole Walker’s books include or will include: </i>Canning Peaches for the Apocalypse, Egg, Micrograms, Quench Your Thirst with Salt,<i> and </i>This Noisy Egg.<i> She edited, with Margot Singer, </i>Bending Genre: Essays on Creative Nonfiction.<i> As some have noted, she pretends to write about food a lot but then manages to mostly avoid the topic. [<a href="https://twitter.com/nikwalkotter">twitter</a>] [<a href="https://m.facebook.com/nicole.walker.18041?ref=bookmarks">facebook</a>]</i></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<i><br /></i></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-203219935786386472016-03-23T08:34:00.000-07:002016-03-24T14:08:14.400-07:00Sweet Sixteen Action: (14) LOW vs (2) CONCRETE BLONDE<div id="qp_all627781" style="width: 100%;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
FINAL SCORE: (14) LOW 73, (2) Concrete Blonde (64)</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
*<br />
<br />
(14) Low, "Words"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/4AzLgswmJxA" width="420"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i><i>Analysis by Kenneth Caldwell</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'm prone on the living room floor, listening to Low's “Words” for the umpteenth time, debating whether to call the paramedics again. Do I want to stay overnight in ER and wait ten hours for results, hearing the screams in trauma? Someone saying, “Come back, child?” No—I've been through this. Every time, “It's not life-threatening. Nothing structural.” So, why am I getting leveled? Damn it. It's bad this time.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Keep calm and focus on the idiot box. Adam Levine’s slick new haircut. I’ll bet he’s saying something profound. Mute is television's best feature. How many words is too many words for closed captioning to keep up? Who gets paid to type this colloquial catastrophe? My chest is pounding. “Man in the box wants to burn my soul.”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'm prone on the floor hearing Low harmonize all the way from Duluth, the song somehow oscillating between a drunken swirl and stone-faced sobriety. It must be frigid there. Like in Michigan when it's too cold to snow, or the way nostrils freeze first. But this bass line lends some warmth. It's Carhartt wool & North Face fleece.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Here’s a fun anecdote: Chest pressure can signify fatal, time-sensitive horror, or nothing at all. Something trivial. “The pain is easy.”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My hands are soaked. From an evolutionary standpoint, perspiration is an advantage. In fight or flight mode—say, running from a snarling grizzly—moist hands mean better grip on the tree used to escape. But there is no bear. There is only snare and cymbal. I'm prone on the living room floor, counting sizzles on the ride: “4-7-8,” like they told me. Breathe. “But I know they're gonna make it just one more night.”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The emergency responder barrels in. I say, my hands are tingling. “Is that the truth?” he says. Tiny lightning is combing my veins. He looks confused. Gives me an EKG. I’m breathing fast, he says, standing over me. I’m clutching his pant leg like he’s the father I lost in October. “We’re gonna take him in, just in case.” I ask my wife to get my joggers and that gives him a little chuckle. He mutters something like, “Yoggers.” Who is this guy?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Lucky me: He rides along in the back of the ambulance. One thing they don’t tell you about ambulances—the halogen is resplendent. Can’t fake anything under that light. He’s talking to me as he measures my vitals, says his brother had to stop drinking Monster. Made him feel the same way. Shit, I think. I’m not your bro—not some juiced up meat-monger whose truck says “Super Duty” on the tailgate. He talks the whole way, about his last job or something. “Too many words, too many words.” All the while I’m collapsing into the gurney, letting the clean white linen smother me into some new galaxy sans Adam Levine. Also, I’m wondering how I left my shoes at home. They let me aboard in just Carhartt socks. Anything goes in this clown car.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Later, after the rigmarole of all-night clinical tests and vague explanations, I get a sick note at 4 a.m. that is impressively concise. Doctors don’t play around: “Please excuse Kenneth from work today, as he was seen in the ED overnight.” Talk about understatement. Bitch, I was dying.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But that was last time. I’m not doing it again. Maybe my heartrate is back to normal now. “And I'm tired.” Beyond tired. And again the lights are all fading back into view, an array of golden beacons smeared across an empty shoreline. The light is resplendent and I’m holding my head. I'm thinking of too many words. How many mantras is too many mantras?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I’m prone listening to “Words,” and it is a song about language. It is plaintive. It is contemplative. This always happens—some rouge nerve whispering in my ear: “Time to faint, fat boy.” I'm not going to listen anymore. “And I can hear 'em.”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“9-1-1. What's your emergency?”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Hey, I’m not sure. Never mind.” Click.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Beat, busted heart. Stammer in my chest. Just one more night.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><a href="http://about.me/kencaldwell">Kenneth Caldwell</a> is eyes wide into the night, illuminated in electric blue.</i></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
(You may also download <a href="https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/420931/caldwell_low.pdf">a prettier, designed version of the essay here</a>.)</div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
vs.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(2) Concrete Blonde, “Joey”<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/OdpTcvSn8HQ" width="420"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Analysis by Megan Campbell</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
Concrete Blonde’s <i>Bloodletting</i> came out in 1990, but it didn’t make its way to me until 1991, when I was 16 years old. It was the first “alternative” album I ever owned, except maybe for <i>Red, Hot, and Blue, </i>which I bought because I happened to see a still of Sinead O’Connor in <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vV2_otzuznc">her video for “You Do Something to Me”</a>—she was dolled up with make-up and a wig, and looked unrecognizable (I remember showing the picture to my friend April, who sneered, “That’s not her.” My teenage self was fascinated by this dichotomy. Why look like <i>that</i> (bald and weird) when you could look like <i>this</i> (lacquered and gorgeous)? Which is actually a good thing for a 16 year-old girl to ponder, but I digress). I’m compelled to remind my youngers that, at the time, it was hard to find good music—there was no internet, no satellite radio, no Spotify, no cable music stations, and only one MTV. Even CDs were new-ish. Music meant Top 40 radio and Musicland at the mall; figuring out there was a world of sound outside of those suburban walls was, in retrospect, a rite of passage that not everyone managed to find their way through (eight years later I knew someone who had only ever owned one CD: Roxette). I wish I could remember how I found “Joey,” but find it I did, and it now represents that particular time for me.<br />
<br />
I was not alone in my discovery—everyone seemed to love “Joey.” The video broke out of the <i>120 Minutes</i> ghetto on MTV and achieved regular rotation, and the song even cracked the Top 40, topping out at #19 (it was #1 for four weeks on something called the “Modern Rock” chart). Considering all of the mild, poppy alt bands floating around in the late 80s and early 90s, “Joey” was an unlikely crossover hit. Lots of people love sad songs (and March Sadness thanks God for that) but “Joey” wasn’t, shall we say, attractively sad—it wasn’t winsome or sexy or sweet. The video featured no cleavage and no pretty girl tears—just lead singer Johnette Napolitano looking fierce and unapproachable (she’s still there in my head with bald Sinead), backed by a band that was not good-looking or hip or even youthful. “Joey” was guttural and depressing and pleading. It was without ego or posturing, which I’ve come to feel is necessary for a truly sad song. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was also autobiographical—about Napolitano’s relationship with Marc Moreland of Wall of Voodoo, who died of liver failure about 10 years later (whatever your criteria, this is a bona fide Sad Song).<br />
<br />
In 1991 “Joey” felt like it was aimed right at my wounded teen soul. Yet when I listen to it now, it feels like a song for adults who have seen some shit, not kids playing at broken hearts. I wasn’t even a lovelorn sort of teen, more of a morbid one (I remember removing the piece of heat-reflective cardboard from the crawl space entrance in my parents’ basement after I read <i>The Bell Jar</i>. I peered inside and wondered: would they find me? Hmm). A cynical part of me thinks, this song is about giving and giving, and teens are about taking and taking. So of course they (and I) loved it. But when I think a little more about teens, their personalities buoyed up by their favorite store at the mall, their favorite pizza topping, and so many other irrelevancies, I get it—giving someone <i>everything</i> feels possible at 16, because there’s not that much to give. But for an adult, it’s an impossible, desperate, last-ditch promise, which is why “Joey” stings so much. <br />
<br />
Wikipedia tells me that “Joey” was the last song recorded for <i>Bloodletting</i>—Napolitano wrote it but didn’t want to sing it. But, eventually, she had to. And it became the single. And it was a hit, an unheard-of thing for a band like Concrete Blonde in 1990. So, she must have heard it everywhere, and also had to sing it everywhere, maybe thousands of times, for fans who were sodden with whatever sadness the song represented for them. And I would love to know what her sadness was like. Was it a punch to the gut every time she sang, or did it fade away over time? Neither feels like a happy ending.<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Megan Campbell is a member of the March Sadness Selection Committee and a vintage clothing dealer in Tucson, AZ.</i></div>
<i><br /></i></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-11557414073897565922016-03-22T09:18:00.004-07:002016-03-22T09:18:47.355-07:00Scores & Analysis<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">(1) NEUTRAL MILK HOTEL 54 edges (13) The Church 49 </span></div>
<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">(2) JEFF BUCKLEY 73 knocks out (3) Sinead O’Connor 35</span></div>
<br />
The close game between a possibly-overseeded (1) Neutral Milk Hotel and a surging (13) The Church came down to the final moments, but NMH squeaked a victory, 54-49, and advances to the Elite 8 where they'll meet (2) Jeff Buckley, who stomped (3) Sinead O'Connor 73-35 in a lopsided contest.<br />
<br />
Close call for surprising tournament contender The Church, and had a couple calls gone their way at the end NMH could be packing their bags. But Jeff Mangum & co go on to play another day, ice their legs, rest up, and celebrate how far they've come.<br />
<br />
Sinead's tournament is over, probably unsurprisingly, where she ran into the voice of Jeff Buckley. Man, that was a contest of spectacular voices, but you chose Buckley. One voter contacted us to inform us that her first kiss took place against a background of Buckley's "Hallelujah": damn, quite a song for that, we think! Well-played, and that's a great reason for a vote. We've been reading Ben Ratliff's <i>Every Song Ever, </i>and he's got a bit that describes nicely what happens sometimes in a great song when “some singers…go transparent in their voice. They seem to become the property of other forces.” That's what we think happens in both those songs, and so we're sorry to big goodbye to Ms O'Connor. Next year, next year...<br />
<br />
So the Elite 8 teams is all the one and two seeds so far: (1) The Cure vs (2) Radiohead and (1) Neutral Milk Hotel vs (2) Jeff Buckley. Today's matchups are going to be sweet too, and will ensure that at least one lower seed advances. We have <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-7-tracy-chapman-vs.html">(7) Tracy Chapman vs (6) Kate Bush</a> and <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/sweet-sixteen-action-4-gary-jules-vs-1.html">(1) Elliott Smith vs (4) Gary Jules</a>.<br />
<br />
Added bonus: In the first game, Chapman is introduced by Manuel Muñoz and Kate Bush is ushered in via Danielle Cadena Deulen. And in the second game we have Katie Jean Shinkle repping Elliott Smith and Ryan Carter repping Gary Jules. Come for the games, but enjoy the lovely essaying while you're here.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow we'll see Kate Bernheimer repping (1) Joy Division against (5) PJ Harvey & Nick Cave, repped by Nicole Walker. And (14) Low, underdogs from Minnesota, introduced by Kenneth Caldwell come up against (2) Concrete Blonde, repped by Megan Campbell.<br />
<br />
Also, guest analysts for the Final Four will include Rick Moody and Pam Houston. Rock on. More to come on that.<br />
<br />
Vote & comment & spread the word about the March Sadness action: we're getting closer to knowing who the real contenders are. & here's your updated bracket:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsvzycEYklStf793j_ZhzsAW4TttEFt22dxkD860yO0u4lp1NKiAuPe7rb4ScdWqmrTYQpgaKh3EZeMwdk-f_bK1zhTAD5GvcG_nZXNogboWjo0wYJdBYErUgqDKnMWH_xzgO3BRuUI6qU/s1600/marchsadness2016bracket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsvzycEYklStf793j_ZhzsAW4TttEFt22dxkD860yO0u4lp1NKiAuPe7rb4ScdWqmrTYQpgaKh3EZeMwdk-f_bK1zhTAD5GvcG_nZXNogboWjo0wYJdBYErUgqDKnMWH_xzgO3BRuUI6qU/s320/marchsadness2016bracket.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-27185099494713850062016-03-22T07:43:00.001-07:002016-03-24T14:09:02.304-07:00Sweet Sixteen Action: (7) TRACY CHAPMAN vs (6) KATE BUSH<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
FINAL SCORE: (7) TRACY CHAPMAN 74, (6) Kate Bush 53<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
(7) Tracy Chapman, "Fast Car"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/uTIB10eQnA0" width="560"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i><i>Analysis by Manuel Muñoz</i></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
It’s never a good idea to study a bracket too closely, either before or after the playing starts, but Tracy Chapman’s appearance in the Sweet Sixteen suggests unheralded strength rather than an easy draw. I was sure she was going to fall to The Smiths in the first round, but her earnest delivery carried “Fast Car” through. That might suggest (might!) that the voting pool considers the combo of plaintive but warm voice plus easily graspable lyrics more potent than the committee anticipated. Only the voting bloc that witnessed the Chapman/Eels showdown knows for sure.</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Fast Car” might be the most straightforward and story-like of the songs we’ve got left, leaving little room for second-guessing its considerable narrative of burden and responsibility. The previous write-up on Chapman already made mention of the song’s “speed” chorus, its rush of longing and vulnerability. But before that, we hear the speaker lay out how parental failure has forced a guilty hand. “Somebody’s got to take care of him,” says the speaker of an alcoholic, broken-down father, “so I quit school and that’s what I did.” For all its merits as a song of broken hopes and disillusionment, it’s also one that surprisingly insists that bigger family circumstances can matter just as much as a lack of individual options for a person at a crossroads.</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
For pushing thirty years of age, “Fast Car” has held up well as a song representing the early half of the bracket era. I admire how its folk sensibility managed to crash a couple of boundaries in 1988. Is it college radio or straight-up adult contemporary? Is it <i>120 Minutes</i> or VH1 during the daytime? However we might answer those questions, the impact of the song and what it meant to a lot of people might best be demonstrated by <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CHy6ok1Qs1c">the “roll call” moment</a> in Spike Lee’s <i>Do the Right Thing</i> from 1989. Just a year after her big hit and Chapman (thrillingly to my young movie-going ears at the time) got to take a well-earned place on a very deep bench.</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
Manuel Muñoz<i> is the author of a novel, </i>What You See in the Dark,<i> and two short-story collections. He’s midway through a third, with recent work in the current issue of </i>American Short Fiction.</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
vs.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(6) Kate Bush, “This Woman's Work”<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7TupvVpxY_U" width="560"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Analysis by Danielle Cadena Deulen</i></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
It’s those first sung notes—somehow both sweet and distraught, sharp and tender—an exhale that draws the breath out of a room. It’s a hurt-pleasure like pressing the cut at the tip of your finger, or the anxiety that arises in the moment someone you love touches your shoulder, turns you around because they need to tell you something. Something big. Something that will probably make you cry.<br />
And I do whenever I hear this song.<br />
<br />
Admittedly, I’m sentimental. But I don’t think that’s all that’s at work here. Most sad songs are sad to me because I connect them with my own memories of loss, but this song has been floating through my life a long time now, landing my attention in various moments that have no aligning personal narrative. It’s not unlike the aesthetically disjunctive context of the song’s original life, having been written for the 1988 John Hughes film, <i>She’s Having a Baby. </i><br />
<br />
I watched it on TV as a kid, largely unimpressed by Kevin Bacon’s supposedly comedic performance, his character’s hysterical response to the expectations of fatherhood striking me, even then, as immature—<i>Oh, grow up, </i>thought my eleven-year-old self. Then his wife goes into labor and something is wrong. A drop of blood falls slowly to the hospital’s white floor and Kate Bush’s voice rings out over a montage of scenes that haven’t earned it. For a moment, I forget that I don’t like what I’m watching, that I am bored, only a child, and am merely suspended in her voice, in perpetual present tense.<br />
<br />
The song has always arrived to me this way, at moments in my life that should make me resist its emotional call: Drunk at a party, or driving on a bright day through the mountains, or sitting with my high school ex-boyfriend in his Volkswagen Rabbit, still saturated with the stink of cigarettes and Eternity for Men, stifling a laugh because he’s shown up at my childhood house years after we split with an engagement ring for the girl he left me for—to get my opinion, he tells me—but the ring’s so godawful (white-gold dolphins diving around a diamond chip) and his obviousness so ripe (he wants me to be jealous) that I have to clasp my hand over my mouth, when the first notes of “This Woman’s Work” reaches out through the radio—<br />
<br />
And I forget where I am, what I was thinking, who I’m with, and despite the context, my eyes well-up. He places his hand on my shoulder sympathetically. “No,” I try to say, “it’s just the song,” but I can tell he doesn’t believe me, that he thinks he’s got what he came for.<br />
<br />
What I’m trying to say is this: the song creates its own space. Kate Bush starts singing and even though I know what must come next, I want to know what comes next. This is probably why it keeps resurfacing in the voices of different singers, gender notwithstanding. Its sadness is beautifully arresting, the call of a lone bird, the moan of a train at night. I suppose this is what I want from any song: to be transported so far away that I forget myself to ache into it.<br />
<br />
<i>Give me these moments back. Give them back to me.</i><br />
<br />
<i>Danielle Cadena Deulen is the author of two full-length poetry collections, </i>Lovely Asunder<i> and </i>Our Emotions Get Carried Away Beyond Us,<i> and an essay collection, </i>The Riots.<i> She’s the poetry series editor at Acre Books and teaches for Willamette University. You can find out more about her <a href="http://danielledeulen.net/">here</a>.</i></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: start;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-63709022348331206882016-03-22T07:43:00.000-07:002016-03-24T14:08:38.636-07:00Sweet Sixteen Action: (4) GARY JULES vs (1) ELLIOTT SMITH<div style="text-align: center;">
FINAL SCORE: (1) ELLIOTT SMITH 78, (4) Gary Jules 44<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
(4) Gary Jules, "Mad World"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/4N3N1MlvVc4" width="420"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i><i>Analysis by Ryan Carter</i></div>
<br />
I had no idea Jules' song was a cover of a Tears for Fears hit until several years after I'd heard it in <i>Donnie Darko.</i> I looked up the original, and I don't think I've done so since. There's no need. It doesn't have the pull that Jules' version does. And by pull, I mean, well, the sadness. But also its clarity. This is a pretty spare tune. It's not hard to follow. There's a big wet whallop in here that's aimed right at your gut.<br />
<br />
These days an artistic representation of suicidal ideation is a big turn-off. I get a little frustrated. This is ground that's been covered before. I know my thought is dismissive, and I'm kind of self-conscious about that dismissal. I kind of want to lecture the artist on reaching their full potential in other more constructive ways. "You've got a lot of talent, and you shouldn't squander it on moping." That sort of thing. But that's me today, as a grown-up. In 2002 or 2003, when I probably heard the song, memories of my own adolescent rage and despair weren't so distant. Let's say I was introduced to the song in 2003: that's 13 years ago. In the past thirteen years I've done a lot of stuff. In 2003, I'd been out of high school for only eight years. I'd been out of college for only three or four, depending on how you count. And that passel of years wasn't easy. There was plenty of sadness, and plenty of leaning on the edges of rooftops, looking at one city or another, feeling almost surgically removed from everything below and beyond.<br />
<br />
I may even have spent some of those rooftop moments in a hat like Gary Jules wears in this video. The landscape he looks over is pretty bleak and wintery. There's a lot of separation there. Not a lot of "there" there. It's familiar.<br />
<br />
Today I see a young parent with a young child and I smile. Same happens when I see a dog. If I were to gaze over the rooftops of my city, I'd think about the neat cars on the streets, maybe how the landscape was different before they put in the interstate. (In fact I'm certain I'd think about the changed landscape. I've become deeply enamored of historical plat maps.) I'd think about the weird politics that have led to the football stadium I can see being built downtown. In short, I often think of things other than me, because I feel connected to them. In all sorts of ways. Today I'm luckier and happier than I've ever been. I'm engaged to a singularly kind and beautiful woman. I've come out on the other end of a couple pretty serious illnesses. I've got friends and I'm well employed. I'm not alone.<br />
<br />
But Gary Jules reminds me that sadness is a thick filter I know well. How he got Michel Gondry, whose film credits include Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and that weird White Stripes video where they're made of Legos, to direct a video for his perfect song I don't know, but Gondry gets what he's talking about. When Gondry gets it, you know you're on to something.<br />
<br />
<i><a href="http://www.facebook.com/ryan.l.carter.18">Ryan Carter</a> is a research librarian for a large global firm, and lives in Minneapolis.</i><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
vs.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(1) Elliott Smith, “Waltz #2”<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/WL1ly1GMwwc" width="420"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Analysis by Katie Jean Shinkle</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
On tumblr the meme below is being shared furiously by teenagers experiencing heartbreak (100,000+ reblogs/likes as of December 2015), and most of them do not know who Elliot Smith is or where these lyrics come from or what they are associated with. They do not know he is dead. They do not know his music. These teenagers care about this image because, almost twenty years later, these lyrics embody ultimate sadness, loss, the impossibility of unrequited love, an infinity of closed off possibility—<i>I’m never going to know you now—</i>and even through the impossibility, a challenge of the heart—<i>but I’m going to love you anyhow. </i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2L2BPZlGELUATLT5Gy_YNvcuXM51tPdvGdeQnHw7jFc20KK-8PQOBC16mOaSlCfbavjvX-645ADkiF2Y2Xy93YvbeeJrohWbxXB9An6N28AaErWLEXU2TvIwrWdITiViQ95UBA9gIdMoB/s1600/Smith+2.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2L2BPZlGELUATLT5Gy_YNvcuXM51tPdvGdeQnHw7jFc20KK-8PQOBC16mOaSlCfbavjvX-645ADkiF2Y2Xy93YvbeeJrohWbxXB9An6N28AaErWLEXU2TvIwrWdITiViQ95UBA9gIdMoB/s320/Smith+2.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
+</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
What are the ways in which we know and love each other, even for brief moments of time? How do we ever relieve ourselves of the grief and burden of relationships, especially our earliest ones, the ones that shape who we are and what we carry with us? If thinking of "Waltz #2 (XO)" in this way, this is the saddest song of 1998<span style="color: red;">*</span> (especially as this song was in the world with songs like <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BM_OWaItNJM">this</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-KT-r2vHeMM">this</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AltMeuPkWRs">this</a> that year). "Waltz #2 (XO)" is a song about childhood trauma, but it is also a song about suffering and love, longing and turmoil, as all Smith’s songs are, and the relentless mantra of being a failure and receiving such a message as early as the earliest years of life: <i>you’re no good you’re no good you’re no good / can’t you tell that its well understood? </i>This is a love song to his family, his harsh stepfather and the undying love of his mother. This song offers an articulation to these complicated feelings and a chance to ruminate on the suffering that shapes us all in these ways and that shaped the haunted and exhausted Smith as an adult: <i>I’m here and expected to stay on and on and on / I’m tired, I’m tired</i>. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
+</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>It’s OK / It’s alright / Nothing’s wrong.</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
+</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
On October 21st, 2003 the news of Smith’s death trickled in slowly to the Michigan woods where my friends and I were binge drinking PBR and chain-smoking Newport 100s. Elliott Smith was one particular friend’s favorite artist and when we heard the news he told us a story about meeting Smith earlier in 2002. Supposedly Smith was clean then, but there are conflicting reports. My friend told us about giving Smith a handmade acoustic guitar created by my friend and his father, and how Smith was so humble upon receiving it, as if no one had ever given him a gift before. He mused with my friend about how the world was a strange place without heroin. He played the guitar in the show. My friend wept while telling us this story, and we all stayed up all night with him while he played Elliott Smith covers and recorded them, playing his guitar and bawling through songs. He must have played "Waltz #2 (XO)" for us 20 times by morning, and by morning my friend had deleted all the recordings in a rage as grief is apt to do. Here are the ways in which we love each other, even for brief moments. Here is how we relieve our grief. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
+</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>I’m never going to know you now / but I’m going to love you anyhow. </i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
+</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4sNPaMKTEBRwSjLFmpiZkpkjesmvHJ407VAi5MUx_JZgiPiDbLjpO0Tyz6VgUClLlR8liyBudKEfqymxdKmi2OEqtbTYFdDtRS-7XjzCIwfu0fy19_3MCcyXWBXD_-ekUOhIv8MXKcGID/s1600/Smith+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4sNPaMKTEBRwSjLFmpiZkpkjesmvHJ407VAi5MUx_JZgiPiDbLjpO0Tyz6VgUClLlR8liyBudKEfqymxdKmi2OEqtbTYFdDtRS-7XjzCIwfu0fy19_3MCcyXWBXD_-ekUOhIv8MXKcGID/s320/Smith+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<div style="text-align: start;">
</div>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; clear: both; color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: red;">*</span>Or, arguably, the saddest song of all time, and possibly Smith’s best song. In <i>Torment Saint: The Life of Elliott Smith</i> by William Todd Schultz, he argues that "Waltz #2 (XO)" is Smith’s best, most tortured song (see <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/browbeat/2013/10/21/elliott_smith_waltz_2_x_is_the_best_song_by_the_man_who_died_10_years_ago.html">here</a> in <i>Slate</i> in 2013).</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<i>Katie Jean Shinkle is the author of two books, most recently </i>The Arson People <i>(Civil Coping Mechanisms, 2015). You can learn more about her work <a href="http://katiejeanshinkle.tumblr.com/">here</a>. </i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: start;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-58698598327846777522016-03-21T07:18:00.000-07:002016-03-24T14:09:47.724-07:00The Sweet Sixteen: (3) SINEAD O'CONNOR vs (2) JEFF BUCKLEY<div style="text-align: center;">
FINAL SCORE: (2) JEFF BUCKLEY 73, (3) Sinead O’Connor 35<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
(3) Sinead O'Connor, "Three Babies"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/UGMnnTvQGRo" width="560"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i><i>Analysis by Laura C. J. Owen</i></div>
<br />
The question that’s already dogged this song in this tournament is why it’s not “<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=auUPqxI1vqg">Nothing Compares 2 U</a>” (the songs are from the same <i>I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got</i> album).<br />
<br />
I am a certainly a big Sad Fan of “Nothing Compares 2 U,” the video for which (Sinead: staring straight at the camera, singing and crying) represented one of my most shameful, secret, teenage Sad Music acts: staring into the mirror, whilst reciting sad music/poetry/love letters, whilst crying.<br />
<br />
Similar to Sinead, I’m a Northern European style pale. While other Arizona teens ran around in the sun, the only time I ever really liked the way I looked was when I stared into the mirror, facing my sharply-angled, pale face, and thick, black eyebrows, while I recited sad music and admired the artful fall of my tears. The “Nothing Compares 2 U,” video and song, showed me that I wasn’t the only one who benefited from this aesthetic.<br />
<br />
But here’s the other thing: “Nothing Compares 2 U” is written by Prince. Which isn’t <i>bad</i>—Prince is the best. But he’s just so...cool. Wonderful, but not mortal. So it was disappointing for Teenage Me to discover that he wrote “Nothing Compares 2 U.” I <i>wanted</i> bald, odd, pale, sad Sinead O’Connor to have written it. It hurt me that the song wasn’t autobiographical.<br />
<br />
And <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/first-round-matchup-sinead-oconnor-at.html">as has already been discussed,</a> “Three Babies” is closely, painfully autobiographical / confessional: i<a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/second-round-11-ride-vs-3-sinead-oconnor.html">t’s a song that’s close to un-coverable</a>. It’s all Sinead.<br />
<br />
Arguably, autobiographical connection shouldn’t matter, not when the cover is glorious, but Sinead’s epically messy life—<a href="http://thewriterlylife.blogspot.com/2012/03/sinead-oconnor.html">in all its Pope-protesting, musician-feuding, public suicidal breakdown glory and squalor</a>—is an important part of her legacy, and difficult to disentangle from her music. It’s not hard to imagine Sinead staring into the mirror and crying, not because of her famous video but because her entire career is based on that kind of embarrassing, beautiful sincerity, a willingness to blab secrets, commit to extreme positions and then retract them, to be always, uncomfortably, inconveniently, annoyingly, tragically honest, even when being honest requires that you be histrionic and contradictory.<br />
<br />
In a way, “Three Babies” is about celebrating those inconvenient, tragic bits of ourselves. “Each of these, my three babies, I will carry with me, for myself,” Sinead sings, “There’s no other way I could be.” The song is sad, but peaceful. Loss is with us always, Sinead says, part our blood and bones, but that is something to be celebrated as well as mourned. Instead of reveling defiantly in the dysfunction of loss, it admits the necessity of loss to informing who we become: "No longer mad like a horse / I'm still wild but not lost / From the thing that I've chosen to be / And it's ‘cause you've thrilled me / Silenced me / Stilled me / Proved things I never believed"<br />
<br />
Loss lives on within us; we carry Russian-nesting-doll versions of ourselves inside us at all times: the sad teenager, the defiant daughter, the grieving mother. Within us, the dead still live. No one else can carry them.<br />
<br />
<i>Laura C. J. Owen is a writer and teacher in Tucson, Arizona. You can see more of her writing <a href="http://thoughtsforasunshineymorning.blogspot.com/p/writing-elsewhere.html.">here</a>.</i><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
vs.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(2) Jeff Buckley, “Hallelujah”<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/y8AWFf7EAc4" width="420"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Analysis by <a href="https://twitter.com/elenavox">Elena Passarello</a></i></div>
<br />
Jeff Buckley covered Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”—one of those covers that’s so powerful, it endangers the original— in 1994. I was an un-blossomed sixteen, and such an easy target for Buckley’s special trick of rewashing songs in beautiful sadness. The love that he promised me in his perfect vox was full of bodies and moonlight and urban melancholy. His was the first version of the song I ever heard, and sweet Lord, it stuck on me.<br />
<br />
I’d be in last period Bio, five miles away from my bedroom and my boom-box, and just aching for the chance to go home and play it. I’d tell myself I was one fetal pig dissection and one school bus ride away from its first note, which isn’t a sung note at all, but a feathery expulsion of breath: <i>hhhhuhh</i>. Breath on a neck, a lover’s last breath, or a dejected sigh—no matter what it signifies, that breath is like a reset button, blowing away all the sinister horniness of Cohen’s original take and replacing it with high, earnest emotion.<br />
<br />
This bracket might not be the place for (probably poor) musical analysis, but doing so makes the best case for why this song is super sad, so bear with me. “Hallelujah” is <i>technically</i> sad, and that schematic sadness begins with the two-string intro of Buckley’s guitar. He plays Cohen’s C-major melody line, slowed to a crawl, on the high E-string, and then adds the wrong part of a C-minor chord—a D-sharp—on the string beneath it. A major tune with a minor underbelly. That wonky minor shift, paired with that opening sigh, tells us that the wry “Hallelujah” of Leonard Cohen is about to crumble. And then Jeff Buckley starts to sing.<br />
<br />
One of my favorite things about “Hallelujah” is that first verse tells you how the song will manufacture its sadness: “well it goes like this, the fourth the fifth / the minor fall, the major lift...” That chord progression is the see-saw that builds an uneasy foundation under the melody. And the melody itself allows for sadness, too. Not so much in Cohen’s version, because he tunelessly drawls through his cheeky verses and chorus, but definitely in Buckley’s more articulate melody line (which Buckley lifted from John Cale’s 1991 cover; we really should give Cale the credit for finding the sadness in this song).<br />
<br />
The back half of each verse climbs up the C-scale, note by note, over three measures. It rises all the way into the next octave, to which Buckley ascends in his oily and perfect head voice:<br />
<br />
<i>The fourth, the fifth/ the mi-nor fall the ma-jor lift/ the ba-ffled king com-po-sing…</i><br />
<b> G A A B B C C C C C C D D D D D D E E</b><br />
<br />
What progress! What a heavenly unburdening! Those rising tones are like a water bucket down a deep well that’s being slowly pulled toward the light.<br />
<br />
But then, right at the title word, the melody drops. The four syllables in “Ha-le-lu-jah” tumble downward from E to D to C. Back into the dark. And how brilliant that the lyric on which the melody falls is the go-to word of Judeo-Christian worship, roughly translated as “<i>lifting up </i>praise” to God. “God” is the “jah” of “hallelujah,” and so God is the lowest note of the descent.<br />
<br />
The chorus is a dirge-ier version of the same concept, up three notes and then back down, all on that ironic “hallelujah” until the chorus plummets to the low root tone. And that’s it for the song— it just repeats that structure; there are no bridges or codas. In a sense, all that lovely melody work gets Buckley nowhere, and it’s sad for a melody to try so hard— to make such beautiful progress—and ultimately fail.<br />
<br />
Technics aside, I must admit there are sadder Jeff Buckley tunes. Look no further than the songs on either side of this track on <i>Grace</i>: the banshee-wail of “So Real” and the murderous breakdown that is “Lover, You Should Have Come Over.” I confess, too, that twenty years past Buckley (and two decades into my actual love life), I relate more to Cohen’s dark take on the song. He seems savvier to that long-distance marathon called love. And now that I actually know what sex is, I think Cohen’s version is sexier, too.<br />
<br />
I’m still voting for Buckley in the match-up versus Sinead O’Connor’s song, which sports less technical sadness and really is more morose than anything. And I’d bet on the youthful, pristine sadness of “Hallelujah” over “Under the Milky Way” or “Mad World” or “Fake Plastic Trees” any day. What might give “Hallelujah” a run for its money is “Joey,” which I was flat-out afraid to listen to at sixteen. Holy <i>shit</i>, that song is sad.<br />
<br />
Anyway, Buckley’s “Hallelujah” is saddest to me because, on top of the great writing, it is so beautifully performed, and that beauty is now gone in more ways than one. And to put it more selfishly, it’s sad because it reminds me that I once believed in Buckley’s high-earnestness. In 1994, I thought life was this constant, pure, Byronic thing. I felt the same way about pop music. So when I hear Buckley sing, I’m sad to know I might never be as openly wooed by life than I was back then, when I’d experienced none of it.<br />
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://twitter.com/elenavox" style="font-style: italic;">Elena Passarello</a><i> wrote a book about pop-culture voices, </i>Let Me Clear My Throat <i>(Sarabande, 2012). She personally thinks the Replacements’ “Here Comes a Regular” should’ve swept this whole dang tourney. <a href="https://twitter.com/elenavox">Tweet your dissent @elenavox</a></i></div>
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-22820885806316415262016-03-21T07:17:00.000-07:002016-03-24T14:09:26.424-07:00The Sweet Sixteen: (13) THE CHURCH vs (1) NEUTRAL MILK HOTEL<div style="text-align: center;">
FINAL SCORE: (1) NEUTRAL MILK HOTEL 54, (13) The Church 49<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
(13) The Church, "Under the Milky Way"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/g6jhpaX7fNQ" width="560"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i><i>Analysis by Juan Diaz</i></div>
<br />
“Fish is flesh, fish is flesh,” he kept yelling, “fish is flesh,” not at anyone in particular (though there were a few butler types scrambling around), but maybe at the occasional assumption that vegetarians are only averse to meat. Being a vegetarian myself, I thought the rest of the spread contained more than enough selections to please even a vegan palate. But Marty wouldn’t have it. The salmon did look pink and lively next to the dead grains and vegetables demanded by The Church’s rider. Everything smelled wonderful to me. Compared to the boiled cabbage we got in Germany, this buffet was luxury.<br />
<br />
It was Lausanne, France, if memory serves me right. My band, Nuclear Valdez, opened The Church on a 3 month European tour. They were promoting their <i>Starfish</i> album, which contained the hit, “Under The Milky Way.” My other 3 bandmates usually scurried off after our show, but I stuck around to hear their set almost every night. I’d watch from backstage, from the audience: perspectives are important. But mostly because their music was growing on me. Before this tour, I’d only heard “Unguarded Moment” and a couple of other tunes. They’d add a song one night, remove one on another, maybe to avert boredom, but overall their nightly sets contained certain songs from their repertoire. You know how when you listen to an album, and it’s okay, but the more you listen the more it grows on you and eventually could become a lifetime favorite? I was experiencing this with the Church in a live setting with the added visual.<br />
<br />
The Church consisted of three Aussies and one brit, Marty being the latter. Not sure why, but other than Marty, the other three guys kept to themselves, didn’t speak much and lived up to that introverted “college alternative” vibe that Hope Sandoval has perfected.<br />
<br />
It was in Spain not long after the French <i>fish is flesh </i>incident that Marty and I had a conversation about who knows what, that lead to Kate Bush and voila, he turned out to be as huge a fan of KT as I was. Not only that, he was a record collector too. We talked about each other’s collectible Kate items, had some drinks, promises of exchanges were made and kept. After the tour, for a while, we traded cassettes of each other’s Kate rarities. He had bootlegs, I had bootlegs, and mix tapes were made. That night in Spain, he told me that there are sparse copies of the Kate Bush, “Hounds of Love” 12” that are double grooved—not all of them—but some, and he owned one. Thing is, if you own one, and you can get the needle into the secondary groove, there is a whole other mix of the song on it. I couldn’t believe I’d never heard of this. But on one of the cassettes he mailed, you could hear him patiently laying the needle down on the groove over twenty times before he found the mystery groove, and sure enough, there was another mix of "Hounds of Love."<br />
<br />
If anyone is interested, Marty Willson-Piper has a music blog titled <i><a href="http://indeepmusicarchive.net/">In Deep Music Archive.</a></i> Check it here if you will.<br />
<div>
<br />
<i>Juan Diaz started in music distribution and later managed a few record stores, both indie and corporate. Moonlighting after work with his band, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Nuclear-Valdez-126080607404763/">Nuclear Valdez</a>, they secured a major label deal in 1989, released two album and two videos: it was a fun 3 year run. He's since been selling collectible vinyl online for the past 15 years.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
vs.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(1) Neutral Milk Hotel, “Two Headed Boy”<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/TudLjZ_4VhU" width="420"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Analysis by <a href="https://twitter.com/Law_Is_Len">Lawrence Lenhart</a></i></div>
<br />
Before coming face-to-face-to-face with Jim and Joe at Philadelphia’s Mütter Museum (a physician’s college dedicated to displaying medical oddities), I had never before considered that Neutral Milk Hotel’s eponymous “Two-Headed Boy” might be literal. I had thought the two-headed boy was a metaphorical Janus looking simultaneously to the past and future. Or, as a high school girlfriend suggested: just sexual innuendo, the second head being the character’s glans penis (or “head” of the penis), which at the time, seemed congruous with all the sexual imagery elsewhere on the record (most conspicuously: “semen stains the mountain tops”).<br />
<br />
In 2005, John Strausbaugh of the <i>New York Times </i>described the Jim-and-Joe exhibit in the Gretchen Worden Room as a “green-tinged corpse of a two-headed baby, sleeping in a bath of formaldehyde.” When we saw it, I leaned in with a friend, our own skulls momentarily conjoining as she ghouled the lyric: “all floooating in glass.” Staring at Jim and Joe—oh, how Mütter courts the “post-mortem gaze”—I muttered through the lyrics again. In the album’s last moments (during “Two-Headed Boy Pt. 2”), the grim leitmotif from the original returns for a few measures until Mangum slides out his chair and sets down his studio guitar indefinitely.<br />
<br />
What’s most surprising about this song is the way the two-headed boy deflects the circus audience’s gaze (presumably, they “dance ‘round the room to accordion keys” for a Barnum-like sideshow). The two-headed boy pays the gaze forward to Anne Frank whose diary they mutually pore over in their adolescence. I had at some point projected this gaze onto the famous postcard album art, the defaced (perhaps moon-faced) woman, Anne, implicitly dividing two boys who tread the ocean backdrop with only their heads buoying above water.<br />
<br />
I consider my friend Jeevan an aficionado of conjoined twins. An anti-Barnum, he writes poems about these fused bodies without resorting to vulgar fetishizing. When I recommended he listen to Neutral Milk Hotel’s song, he nodded as if he’d endured that suggestion one too many times. “I plan on it,” he said. If Jeevan was indifferent to NMH, then my father was flat-out averse.<br />
<br />
He used to drive me to basketball practice in the winters, playing cassettes on the way to the Sewickley gymnasium (Springsteen’s “Atlantic City,” Mellencamp’s “Small Town,” Eagles’ “Hotel California,” etc.). He had a whole catalog of songs he was determined to convince me were the best ever written. On the way home, with a basketball between my sneakers, I tried my hand at the reciprocal task. I replaced his cassette with a cassette adapter, a deck with a short 3.5-mm audio cable, which plugged into my Sony Sports Walkman Portable CD Player whose spindle motor spun a CD pressed with the image of a flying Victrola phonograph. The radio-cum-cassette-cum-CD-cum-phonograph is reminiscent of the two-headed boy’s convoluted player: “with pulleys and weights / creating a radio played just for two.”<br />
<br />
My dad claimed to hate Mangum’s voice, which disappointed me because I was trying to think of a manly way to tell him that Mangum’s gliding snarl, particularly the non-lexical vocables at the end of “Two-Headed Boy” (“deee da-dee da-dee-da dee-eee”) reminded me of his ancient lullabying to Bing Crosby’s “Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral.” The syllables even sounded like “daddy.” Despite his antipathy, I persisted in playing the album all basketball season long, convinced that if he heard it enough times, he’d start to like it (like a jingle on a commercial).<br />
<br />
Not long after that basketball season, I quit organized sports and became the lead singer of a punk band. Before one of our shows, the venue organizer offered to give me screaming lessons. I finished putting on my eyeliner, and he told me to scream as he muscled my diaphragm with his thumbs. “Like that,” he said. “Like that.” Minutes later, my band performed a screamo medley of <i>In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, </i>including the lyrics: “when all is breaking / and everything that you could keep beside...” This is the moment, perhaps, of the two-headed boy’s lethal separation, paving the way for Pt. 2 in which the remaining twin chronicles his survivor’s guilt. The song itself is surgically separated across the album.<br />
<br />
The song ends melancholically on Christmas: “two-headed boy / there is no reason to grieve / the world that you need is wrapped in gold silver sleeves / left beneath Christmas trees in the snow.” I think of how my uncle revives his antique trumpet on Christmas Eves and performs “Chestnuts Roasting On an Open Fire” with comic embouchure, discreet strain. Once, before reinterring the instrument in its velvet-lined case, I asked him to play me the interlude melody of “In the Aeroplane Over the Sea.” I hummed the notes, and he trumpeted them back. In the trumpet’s bell, I could see his head’s reflection. It was a feat of brassy craniopagus. As he played the melody, the image portended the album’s next song, “Two-Headed Boy.” He let me borrow the trumpet to see if I could learn to play it on my own. I failed to replicate the melody, instead sputtering as I depressed the finger buttons asynchronously. I called him twice on the phone for quick lessons on embouchure. I watched instructional YouTube videos. Eventually, I surrendered to the trumpet (“will wait until the point when you let go”). Sick of looking at my own failing reflection achieving nothing but spit in the mouthpiece, two heads not better than one, I gave my lips a rest and bought a kazoo.<br />
<br />
<i><a href="https://twitter.com/Law_Is_Len">Lawrence Lenhart</a> holds an MFA from The University of Arizona. His essay collection, </i>Isolating Transgression, <i>will be published in Fall 2016 (Outpost19). His prose appears in </i>Alaska Quarterly Review, Fourth Genre, Guernica, Gulf Coast, Passages North, Prairie Schooner, Western Humanities Review, <i>and elsewhere. He is a professor of fiction and nonfiction at Northern Arizona University and a reviews editor and assistant fiction editor of </i><a href="http://thediagram.com/">DIAGRAM</a>.<i> </i><br />
<br />
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-60082155174989633222016-03-19T10:09:00.002-07:002016-03-19T10:09:21.943-07:00Your First Sweet Sixteen Scores & AnalysisBoth of the Sweet Sixteen games finishing this morning lacked the drama of some of our better recent matchups, with the higher seed going on to win by solid margins.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/the-sweet-sixteen-3-tori-amos-vs-1-cure.html">(1) The Cure's "Pictures of You" took down (3) Tori Amos's "Silent All These Years"</a> 109-86<br />
<br />
and<br />
<br />
<a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/the-sweet-sixteen-2-radiohead-vs-6-this.html">(2) Radiohead's "Fake Plastic Trees" ended the run of dark horse (6) This Mortal Coil's "Song to the Siren"</a> 76-50<br />
<br />
Neither result is surprising, since both winners seemed to us early favorites (hence their seeds), but we followed "Song to the Siren"'s run to the Sweet 16 with anticipation, and will mourn their loss. It's worth noting here that "Song to the Siren" wasn't even in the bracket until the very last minute, at which point official Committee Advisor Chris Cokinos suggested them to us. (We had "You and Your Sister," which "Song to the Siren" beat handily in the play-in.) So it was a good run, This Mortal Coil, especially for a song unfamiliar to many of our voters coming into March Sadness. We thank you, <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/the-sweet-sixteen-2-radiohead-vs-6-this.html">Brian Blanchfield, for helping to contextualize that song for the crowd</a>. We also wave goodbye to Tori Amos, who leaves us in spite of <a href="http://marchsadness2016.blogspot.com/2016/03/the-sweet-sixteen-3-tori-amos-vs-1-cure.html">an outstanding and impassioned essay by Alison Stine</a>.<br />
<br />
So: this leaves us with a weekend to relax and take a break and watch some basketball, if you prefer, or listen to sad songs that didn't make the bracket, as we prefer. If you don't want to go without, start with: Dinosaur Jr's "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OQZmrdwK7YM">Feel the Pain</a>," Cowboy Junkies' "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J9D2yvD9Frk">Blue Moon Revisited</a>," The Lemonheads' "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hFYFj5q8_Qk">It's a Shame About Ray</a>," quite a bit of the Trashcan Sinatras, Codeine's version of "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iLXW-qgy8Og">Atmosphere</a>," Shawn Colvin's "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8DbxN0ukCyU">Shotgun Down the Avalanche</a>," Gin Blossoms' "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ah5gAkna3jI">Hey Jealousy</a>," The Jazz Butcher Conspiracy's "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cj6lU1ykzsA">Angels</a>," Emmylou Harris's "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-sy-HfUQqoQ">Red Dirt Girl</a>," and Duran Duran's "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TreNe5D8OXE">Ordinary World</a>," all of which lost play-in games or were got bumped<br />
<br />
We'll see you Monday morning for the next two Sweet 16 matchups, featuring (1) Neutral Milk Hotel (repped by Lawrence Lenhart) vs surprising Australians (13) The Church, as repped by Juan Diaz. And (3) Sinead O'Connor (repped by Laura Owen) brings the drama vs (2) Jeff Buckley, as repped by Elena Passarello. See you on the court.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-697219816427349669.post-75108859417615792772016-03-18T08:19:00.001-07:002016-03-18T08:19:15.348-07:00The Sweet Sixteen: (3) TORI AMOS vs (1) THE CURE<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
(3) Tori Amos, "Silent All These Years"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/HSYr0etDzRM" width="560"></iframe>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i>
<i>Analysis by <a href="https://twitter.com/AlisonStine">Alison Stine</a></i></div>
<br />
This was the year Perot ran but Clinton won and I got a C in Spanish, which was a gift, and my sister and I saw the redheaded woman on television. The video stood out from all the others because it was mostly white, a blank space, bright as fresh paint, and overexposed so the woman, pale, twirling through the video and walking and holding a dress up like evidence, seemed to have no pores, barely a face. Her hair stood out, flaming and unfixed.<br />
<br />
Understand: It was 1992, and in Mansfield Ohio—voted, just years later, the worst city in America to raise children—my economics teacher used racial slurs in class; my male friend, sick with Lyme disease, had been expelled for wearing a skirt; my closest relative had died of a “blood disease.” Color Me Badd ruled the radio. Kids went to Deckers after school for Big League. Tori Amos was the most counterculture person I had ever seen.<br />
<br />
She was a woman who didn’t look like other women. She was grown up and also a child. Shoeless, braless, wearing a chiffon blue top I would try to find in thrift shops for years, and gauzy shorts that might have been pajamas or a rag. <i>What kind of woman did not brush her hair.</i> One who has shit to do. And she sang, she opened her mouth, which other women didn’t do. Her voice was high like mine, but filtered through weed or magic. She stared. She didn’t seem to blink. She sang of a trash kingdom: garbage trucks, ugly dresses, paper cups, crazy relatives, biting dogs, blood—these were the materials of our lives. But she sang of them smiling.<br />
<br />
How could she walk in those heels. Was that honey or was that glass. I called for my sister. <i>The lady in the box is on.</i> Like Kate Bush who came before her—but who would not come for years for me—Tori somersaulted in a packing box. Then broke out.<br />
<br />
My sister and I watched MTV like prison guards for our own break. When it came on, rarely, maybe once or twice in the after school slot, we would scream for each other to come. <i>Come. Come.</i> Poppy tottered by. She would have her own song (<i>I know your mother is a good one</i>).<br />
<br />
“Silent All These Years” is mostly about other people speaking, being drowned out by them. <i>I can hear you,</i> Tori sings slowly, drawing the words out, like I KNOW, I heard you the first 15 times. The last chorus is doubled. She’s her own backup, singing up an octave, maybe from the future. She finds her voice inside her voice, the grown woman waiting there in the girl, as she was in me, and I didn’t even know. Tori would say in interviews, years later, something along the lines of: “I can’t write 'Silent All These Years' again. Because I’m not silent.”<br />
<br />
I wore the baggiest clothes I could find. I believed my body was an illness. More than anything I dreaded gym class. We were having an archery unit; left mostly unattended, a boy who had figured out about my hearing loss would stand so close to me I could feel his heat, and whisper terrible things. The arrow trembled. Tori had a strangeness that I craved, and a confidence that I could not understand, being a mermaid in boy’s jeans. I did not want boys. I wanted to be rid of them. I wanted to be safe. I wanted to be screaming. I wanted to be a mermaid. I wanted to be free. How did I forget that, but I did.<br />
<br />
Years go by. I am the wife in the corner. I am the mother with no ring. I am the woman with the wild hair. I am coming to save me. I am the one who makes the bulls eye despite the boy hissing in my one good ear. At last the arrow sings. And I’ve been here, all these years.<br />
<br />
<i style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://twitter.com/AlisonStine">Alison Stine</a></i><i> is the author of 4 books, most recently </i>Supervision<i> (HarperVoyager UK, 2015).</i><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
vs.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(1) The Cure, “Pictures of You”<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/MG6UNn7l-aw" width="420"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Analysis by <a href="http://kathleenmrooney/">Kathleen Rooney</a></i></div>
<br />
This song invites the perverse move of taking a pejorative term and reclaiming it as praise. (See Dan Fox’s book-length essay <i>Pretentiousness: Why It Matters</i> for a compelling example of this technique.) The word that Robert Smith and company invite the reclamation of is “melodramatic.” Because “Pictures of You” is a melodramatic song, and its colossal powers of shimmery yearning and sadness arise because and not in spite of that fact.<br />
<br />
Etymologize and define for a moment, and you’ll find that the word originates from the Greek <i>melos</i>, meaning <i>song</i> (as in “melody”), and the French <i>drame</i>, meaning <i>drama</i>, and that it’s typically used to indicate a work in which the plot—sensational and intended to appeal strongly to the emotions—takes precedence over detailed characterization, sometimes to the extent that the characters may appear as stereotypes. Certainly, to label something melodramatic is to suggest that the work lacks subtlety.<br />
<br />
But sometimes a feeling calls for a sledgehammer and not a scalpel. The nostalgia and bereavement of the scenario in the song—looking at old photographs of a long-lost lover—are antonymic to subtle: they are forthright, blunt, and over the top.<br />
<br />
Are any phrases in the English language more melodramatic than “There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more?” Maybe some phrases are equal in their melodrama, but I’m willing to bet that none surpass it. For instance, equal—and in the same song—may be the exaggeratedly regretful sentence-starter: “If only I’d thought of the right words…”<br />
<br />
The song is an unapologetic monument of Goth excess, not just in the iridescent production but in the lyrics as well. The disproportionateness of the assertion that, “You were bigger and brighter and wider than snow”—wider! Than snow!—is captivating. Ditto the chilly and synthetic pleasure of, “You were stone white so delicate lost in the cold.”<br />
<br />
To be Goth, yes, is to engage, as the definition of melodrama asserts, in a kind of stereotype, but it’s a stereotype that offers a necessary and maybe even rescuing alternative to an oppressive norm. I was never Goth myself, but whenever I hear the Cure, I hear my college friend Harriet quoting her mom who always said—if, for example, Harriet lamented not being thin or tan or straight-haired or standard—that it was better to be “pale and interesting.” The Cure’s entire existence argues in favor of pale and interesting, and “Pictures of You” makes being “always so lost in the dark” sound irresistible.<br />
<br />
Another reason to take back “melodramatic” would seem to be all the gendered freight that its negativity carries. Critics historically have used—and continue to use—the word to describe pathos-soaked works of romance intended to appeal to a feminine audience. Think the moving lushness of Douglas Sirk’s so-called “weepies,” or the sublime soap operatic raptures of Bette Davis in <i>Now, Voyager </i>(a film which itself makes commanding use of old photographs). “Pictures of You” is not afraid to explore its emotional crescendos from the soft—“remembering you standing quiet in the rain”—to the screaming—“we kissed as the sky fell in.” And that is what makes its sadness so exquisite.<br />
<br />
Also, while we’re on the subject of Old Hollywood and the glamour of sadness: Robert Smith's makeup! His red lips! Glamorama. Rarely has melodramatic sadness looked and sounded so bittersweet, so pretty.<br />
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><a href="http://kathleenmrooney/">Kathleen Rooney</a> is a founding editor of Rose Metal Press and a founding member of Poems While You Wait. With Eric Plattner, she is co-editor of </i>Rene Magritte: Selected Writings,<i> coming out this Fall. Her second novel, </i>Lillian Boxfish Takes a Walk,<i> is forthcoming from St. Martin’s Press in 2017. <a href="https://twitter.com/kathleenmrooney">@kathleenmrooney</a></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div id="qp_all622050" style="width: 100%;">
<style>#qp_main622050 .qp_btna:hover input {background: rgb(255,215,169)!important;background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,215,169,1) 0%, rgba(255,209,157,1) 50%, rgba(255,200,137,1) 51%, rgba(255,240,223,1) 100%)!important;background: -webkit-gradient(linear, left top, left bottom, color-stop(0%,rgba(255,215,169,1)), color-stop(50%,rgba(255,209,157,1)), color-stop(51%,rgba(255,200,137,1)), color-stop(100%,rgba(255,240,223,1)))!important;background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,215,169,1) 0%,rgba(255,209,157,1) 50%,rgba(255,200,137,1) 51%,rgba(255,240,223,1) 100%)!important;background: -o-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,215,169,1) 0%,rgba(255,209,157,1) 50%,rgba(255,200,137,1) 51%,rgba(255,240,223,1) 100%)!important;background: -ms-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,215,169,1) 0%,rgba(255,209,157,1) 50%,rgba(255,200,137,1) 51%,rgba(255,240,223,1) 100%)!important;background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(255,215,169,1) 0%,rgba(255,209,157,1) 50%,rgba(255,200,137,1) 51%,rgba(255,240,223,1) 100%)!important;filter: progid:DXImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#ffd7a9', endColorstr='#fff0df',GradientType=0 )!important}</style><br />
<div fp="1CC14c87-26" id="qp_main622050" results="0" style="background: -moz-linear-gradient(top , rgba(117 , 122 , 129 , 1) 0% , rgba(91 , 95 , 103 , 1) 10% , rgba(69 , 72 , 77 , 1) 23% , rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 1) 100%); background: -ms-linear-gradient(top , rgba(117 , 122 , 129 , 1) 0% , rgba(91 , 95 , 103 , 1) 10% , rgba(69 , 72 , 77 , 1) 23% , rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 1) 100%); background: -o-linear-gradient(top , rgba(117 , 122 , 129 , 1) 0% , rgba(91 , 95 , 103 , 1) 10% , rgba(69 , 72 , 77 , 1) 23% , rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 1) 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top , rgba(117 , 122 , 129 , 1) 0% , rgba(91 , 95 , 103 , 1) 10% , rgba(69 , 72 , 77 , 1) 23% , rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom , rgba(117 , 122 , 129 , 1) 0% , rgba(91 , 95 , 103 , 1) 10% , rgba(69 , 72 , 77 , 1) 23% , rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 1) 100%); background: rgb(117 , 122 , 129); border-radius: 6px; border: 1px solid rgb(150 , 150 , 150); margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; zoom: 1;">
<div style="background: -moz-linear-gradient(top , rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 1) 0% , rgba(229 , 229 , 229 , 1) 100%); background: -ms-linear-gradient(top , rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 1) 0% , rgba(229 , 229 , 229 , 1) 100%); background: -o-linear-gradient(top , rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 1) 0% , rgba(229 , 229 , 229 , 1) 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top , rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 1) 0% , rgba(229 , 229 , 229 , 1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom , rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 1) 0% , rgba(229 , 229 , 229 , 1) 100%); background: rgb(255 , 255 , 255); border-radius: 6px; color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; margin-bottom: 10px; zoom: 1;">
<div style="padding: 10px;">
Which does sadder better? Vote by 9am 3/19</div>
</div>
<form action="//www.poll-maker.com/results622050x1CC14c87-26" id="qp_form622050" method="post" style="display: inline; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" target="_blank">
<div style="border-radius: 6px;">
<input name="qp_d622050" type="hidden" value="42447.3185416635-42447.3185240894" /><br />
<div class="qp_a" onclick="var c=this.getElementsByTagName('INPUT')[0]; if((!event.target?event.srcElement:event.target).tagName!='INPUT'){c.checked=(c.type=='radio'?true:!c.checked)};var i=this.parentNode.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('INPUT');for(var k=0;k!=i.length;k++){i[k].parentNode.parentNode.setAttribute('sel',i[k].checked?1:0)}" style="clear: both; color: rgb(255 , 255 , 255); display: block; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;">
<span style="cursor: inherit; display: block; padding-left: 30px;"><input name="qp_v622050" style="float: left; height: 18px; margin-left: -25px; margin-top: -2px; padding: 0px; width: 18px;" type="radio" value="1" />Silent All These Years</span></div>
<div class="qp_a" onclick="var c=this.getElementsByTagName('INPUT')[0]; if((!event.target?event.srcElement:event.target).tagName!='INPUT'){c.checked=(c.type=='radio'?true:!c.checked)};var i=this.parentNode.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('INPUT');for(var k=0;k!=i.length;k++){i[k].parentNode.parentNode.setAttribute('sel',i[k].checked?1:0)}" style="clear: both; color: rgb(255 , 255 , 255); display: block; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;">
<span style="cursor: inherit; display: block; padding-left: 30px;"><input name="qp_v622050" style="float: left; height: 18px; margin-left: -25px; margin-top: -2px; padding: 0px; width: 18px;" type="radio" value="2" />Pictures of You</span></div>
</div>
<div style="clear: both; margin-right: -5px; padding-top: 5px;">
<a class="qp_btna" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=697219816427349669#" style="text-decoration: none;"><input btype="v" name="qp_b622050" style="background: -moz-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: -ms-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: -o-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: rgb(226 , 226 , 226); border-radius: 10px; border: 1px solid rgb(255 , 255 , 255); color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; height: 30px; margin-right: 5px; margin-top: 5px; min-width: 80px; zoom: 1;" type="submit" value="Vote" /></a><a class="qp_btna" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=697219816427349669#" style="text-decoration: none;"><input btype="r" name="qp_b622050" style="background: -moz-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: -ms-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: -o-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom , rgba(226 , 226 , 226 , 1) 0% , rgba(219 , 219 , 219 , 1) 50% , rgba(209 , 209 , 209 , 1) 51% , rgba(254 , 254 , 254 , 1) 100%); background: rgb(226 , 226 , 226); border-radius: 10px; border: 1px solid rgb(255 , 255 , 255); color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; height: 30px; margin-right: 5px; margin-top: 5px; min-width: 80px; zoom: 1;" type="submit" value="Results" /></a></div>
<a href="http://www.doquizzes.com/" id="qp_a622050" style="color: rgb(255 , 255 , 255); float: right; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: none;">Do Quizzes</a></form>
<div style="display: none;">
<div id="qp_rp622050" style="font-size: 11px; height: 1.5em; line-height: 1.5em; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; right: 5px; text-align: right; width: 5ex;">
</div>
<div id="qp_rv622050" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; padding-right: 3px; text-align: right; width: 0%;">
</div>
<div id="qp_rb622050" style="color: rgb(255 , 255 , 255); display: block; font-size: 12px; font-size: 12px; padding-right: 10px 5px;">
</div>
<div id="qp_rva622050" style="background: #006FB9; border-color: #006FB9;">
</div>
<div id="qp_rvb622050" style="background: #163463; border-color: #163463;">
</div>
<div id="qp_rvc622050" style="background: #5BCFFC; border-color: #1481AB;">
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<script language="javascript" src="//scripts.poll-maker.com/3012/scpolls.js"></script>
<br />
Trouble voting? Click <a href="http://www.poll-maker.com/poll622050x1CC14c87-26">here</a> to go directly to the poll.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2