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Archive for January, 2010

Apparently, this is Prince’s fight song for the Minnesota Vikings. I want it to be a joke really, really badly. I fear that it’s not. It’s got too many of his signature harmonies, hell, it sounds like Wendy and Lisa (or Jill) are singing it. Maybe it was recorded in the 80’s. It’s got that Little Girl Wendy’s Parade/Graffiti Bridge/Diamonds and Pearls/Dolphin lameness to it. And that Under a Cherry Moon vibe as well. Plus, there’s a guitar tone and riff in the back that just has to be him.

It’s sounds like he’s going for a 1920’s waltz-y fight song. I. Just. Don’t. Know.

I love Prince. But I (shudder) have to agree with Jim Rome on this: it’s brutal. And yes, Pants on the Ground yelled by Favre is better.

Come on, Prince! You wrote Purple Rain! Parade! Sign O the Times! Controversy!

Sigh.

I stand by my Prince and Jack White post.

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Once there was a seventh-grader who fell in love with an NFL team. You know, the one with the dazzling passing offense.

As a kid in Wisconsin, I was surrounded by the penitent, longsuffering Packer fanbase. It was a dreary era for the green and yellow and I knew that I didn’t have masochistic impulse to choose Packer Nation. In the Eighties, Packer fans were like the Bride of Christ, patiently waiting for his return. Meanwhile Eddy Lee Ivery was running up the middle three downs in a row, getting stuffed for a loss. I just couldn’t be a Packer fan, I wasn’t that Catholic. And yet, in this period of my fandom free-agency, I couldn’t get that root-for-the-underdog mentality completely out of my system.

Who You Are Going To Root For is an important choice for a young man, regardless of sport. I believe it’s a choice that should be made in the pre-teen years, but everyone is late for at least one party in their lifetime. Once you choose though-  child please—stick with that team.

The NFL-Wisconsin was awash in shame during my formative years. It was almost a given that a young lad’s eyes would turn abroad for an extension of his identity, and most did. But there were other pitfalls: there was the glitter-tyranny of the Dallas Cowboys. Somehow the Tom Landry/Roger Staubach era drifted down from frustrated father to son, so that children of the seventies were steeped in this perverse, wanky Cowboy fanhood. With their corn-fed brawn and their metal-flake helmets, I hated the Cowboys. Damn their eyes! The other popular team to choose was the Raiders, with their silver-and-black bad-assness. Choosing adoptive awesomeness just didn’t seem sporting. “Don’t get me wrong, yeah I’m FROM Surinam but my favorite soccer team is Manchester United, GO UNITED!!!!!!!”

People choose a team that reflects their region or their character. If they are lucky, it’s both. My team wasn’t what you’d call a storied franchise like the Cowboys or the Packers. They’d never won the Superbowl, but they were always making awesome diving catches in those games they lost. Plus they had pretty rad uniforms, which one has to admit, is a serious consideration when you are thirteen years old. Dan Fouts had an arm like artillery and Charlie Joyner & Kellen Winslow were always leaping around to pull in those bombs. Chuck Muncie brought an extra big pile of awesome to the table, but the Chargers were never known for their running game.

(How awesome is this uniform? I mean, honest to Christ! That helmet is almost black!)

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From 4AD’s website (label of the mighty TV on the Radio, and, of course, The Pixies):

tUnE-yArDs is the singular musical project of New England native Merrill Garbus.

Recording herself using a digital voice recorder and assembled using shareware mixing software, she was described by Stereogum as “a self-contained Sublime Frequencies compilation, jumping between blues, African tunes, shiny reggae-esque sprawls, and lo-fi folk.”

I love that. “You don’t have Pro-Tools, or AutoTune, or a studio.”

“Don’t bother me son, I’ve got music to make.”

“On what?”

“Sony portable digital recorder and Freeware. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

I heard Hatari the other day on Morning Becomes Eclectic and it almost took my head off. The rushed sample of the main riff sounds like a rickety Whoville Christmas contraption coming down Mulberry Street, with a rag-tag fugitive band dancing and playing around it as people coming pouring out of their homes to check out the racket. Haven’t bought the album yet, but believe me, I will.

Merrill performing Harari in Brussels in Sept. 09 after the jump:

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James Blagden’s hilarious short about Dock Ellis and his legendary no-hitter on June 12, 1970:

“I’m high as a Georgia Pine” is now cemented in my lexicon, even if I’m only baking Toll-House Cookies.

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