The Pitchfork 500

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Pitchfork Media, the über-hip music web publication that acts as the Final Word on music for an entire generation of hipster/indie/underground/annoying kids, has put out a book.  A list of the 500 greatest songs from 1977 to 2006.

A little history on my relationship with Pitchfork: It was brought to my attention via a couple of friends whose passions coincidentally mirror the very music Pitchfork was created to champion. My friend mentioned in passing that one of his friends was annoying him, because every musical opinion he had seemingly stemmed directly from whatever Pitchfork was touting at the moment.

Pitchfork?  What was this?  I'm immediately set on edge.  Despite my all-encompassing love for lists, reviews and the like, I pride myself on (hopefully) being able to use them for what they are - opinions and guides to direct me to find interesting and new expressions - whether it be music, film, or anything else.  This, coupled with the fact that at the time (roughly three 3 years ago) my exposure to what I'll call "independent music" for lack of a better term was limited and based largely on music I was adverse to in the first place caused me to shun the site and the people who read it as petulant elitists who weren't worth my time or energy.

Yes, I understand the inherent hypocrisy in the above sentence.

Anyway, time, fatherhood, and more (and better) exposure to many different types of music from my friends started to wear me down, and about a year ago I started casually reading Pitchfork to check for any mention of the bands I was being introduced to.  And, lo and behold, I started to warm up it.  In a world where mainstream publications like Rolling Stone are increasingly losing touch and becoming the dinosaurs of the critical world, Pitchfork and other online publications are rising up as distinct voices, unafraid to firmly state their opinions in language that is unencumbered by politeness or stodgy standards.  I still wasn't fully embracing Pitchfork, but I was happy to let it exist and not get offended.  Just as long as they didn't fall into the trap of considering themselves an authority by releasing some type of Best Of...

Aw, crap (gleeful Hellboy reference, as HELLBOY II was released yesterday Yipee!).

Let's (finally) get to the book, which is the point of this increasingly long missive.  The cover lacks any pretentious statement like "The Definitive" or even "The Best."  Instead, they come across as just a bunch of easy-going folks, claiming that the list is simply "their" guide to the greatest songs from roughly 1977 to 2006.  Still, the bossy, opinionated little person I typically manage to stuff down deep (only to explode whenever there's talk about, well things like this) was bursting forth, ready to throw down the glove and sever any and all ties with this young upstart who had the audacity - nay, the balls, the cojones - to publish a list of the best songs without including what I knew in my soul to be mandatory entries like Iggy Pop's "The Passenger" or Radiohead's "Paranoid Android."

Ah... oh.  They're in there.  In fact, "The Passenger" is the second song listed in the book.  Fine.  Kid gloves are coming off.  Time to get a little more personal.  After all, everyone loves those songs, and both Iggy Pop and Radiohead are standard entries in any "best of" list.  But if there's no Elvis Costello in there I'm going to throw this right in the...

Holy crap.  Two songs make the list!  "Radio Radio" is the obvious choice, but frickin' "Beyond Belief?"  Besides being an awesome song, they actually get why it's so good, and why Imperial Bedroom was a career-changing album for him.

Hopefully you're starting to see what I'm getting at.  I was startled by how much of what I wanted to see was in there, sometimes surprisingly so.  For metal you have the real obvious entries like Metallica and current media darlings Mastodon, but to also include Napalm Death and Darkthrone?  Darkthrone?!  Even I was shocked.  Bands you expect to see, you do, but sometimes the song choice is surprising (Sex Pistols are represented by "God Save the Queen").  And every genre is considered, with special attention being paid to the innovators and masters of established sounds, so seeing Italian Disco mixed with lo-fi rock or Top 40 sitting in the same book as Boogie Down Productions is exciting and just goes to show how wide Pitchfork's embrace actually is.

It may not tickle the music itch you have, but I was incredibly surprised at the thoroughness and diversity on offer in the Pitchfork 500.  For the record I have approximately 165 songs on the list (yes, I counted), and plan on checking out more of the selections.  And I would be remiss if I didn't mention that there are also entries on my favorite Björk song of all time ("Joga") and three of my contenders for Best Pop Song EVER ("There She Goes" by the La's, "She Bangs the Drum" by the Stone Roses, and "Mr. Blue Sky" by ELO).

Pitchfork, you have used your wily charms on me.  Just don't push your luck for a while, okay?

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NOTE:  Though unnamed, many thanks to the main persons who not only introduced me to the site, but also turned my head in the direction of a lot of music I would have otherwise missed out on.  It IS a coincidence that much of what they like is championed by Pitchfork - both are connuseuirs of all types of music, and often my own personal Pitchfork.  Thanks!

Book #43: The Black Whole

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*Please note that I received this book as part of www.librarything.com's Early Reviewer group directly from the publisher.

Short story collections, even by the best authors, are often a mixed bag for me.  I think it's almost impossibly difficult to maintain a level of quality and theme across what is (usually) by definition a series of self-contained narratives that aim for the quick punch rather than the prolonged war of a novel.  I know that the point isn't always to maintain the same feel or theme throughout the stories, and that it's my own personal preferences of prejudices that are working against me in this field, but there you go.

When you factor in anthology collections, this becomes even more evident.  When the anthology is as purposely varied as something like The Black Whole, the dangers become practically unavoidable.  From the mission statement/summary posted on the cover:

"A collection of new thoughts in short-story form by new writers to appease for a moment your mind's quest for an out-of-common experience."

Editor Jackie M Jones (who also provides three stories in the collection) has gathered together a number of new writers with the goal of writing short, punchy speculative fiction.  And although it takes a while to get moving and there are a few stories that leave you as soon as the last word is digested, the pleasant surprise is the number of stories that not only work, but linger in your craw afterward like a stringy piece of meat, its taste continuing to remind you of the meal.

For me, things really began to kick in with Rocky Wood's "Disposable," a twisted New Orleans tale about body possession which deals more with what happens to the person being co-opted.  Wood comes up with a truly unique perspective on the nature of our existence and building of the universe. 

It's the "WFT?" moments that occur, in stories like Jones's "The Better Half" (which benefits from being crazy and not making a lick of sense at the end - believe me, this was a good thing), "Cajun Red" by Steven Marshall, and Edward Morris's "The Devil Was Hot," which uses a crazed radio broadcast to fun effect, that bring out the better stories to the forefront.  There are more conventional stories - vampires and zombies abound, but "Organ Donor" by William Blake Vogel III shines through for coming up with a use for zombies I had never thought of.

There are more...like any good collection you have to dig in and find them.  One of my favorite stories, "Spiked!" by Bruce Bretthauer reads very traditionally but has a terrific sense of fun.  The three stories by Jones provide a compass of sorts into the expected weirdness: all provide seriously fun "WTF?" moments.  But I think more than anything else what I like about The Black Whole is the sense of opening up new voices to the world, and for that the book as a whole is to be commended.

A Perfect Sunday

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It was my turn to get up with Jack and let the Missus sleep, so at 7:15 AM I woke to the sounds of Jack running through his litany of learned words.  "Dad."  "Apple."  Some gibberish, and then, "Dad."  I crept downstairs, put his morning bottle in some hot water and made a pot of coffee.  Then I came back upstairs and opened his bedroom door.

"Dad!"  He was sitting up in his crib, holding a pair of socks in his hand.  "Da." I graciously took his socks and with a flourish stuffed them in the pocket of my sweats.  Then, scooping him up we made our way over to his dresser where we greeted each of his stuffed animals and decided which one to take downstairs with us.  After careful consideration (and a close call with his "sitting monkey") Jack settled on his torn Elmo doll.  We went down the hallway, pausing to admire ourselves in the giant mirror I put up last weekend, and hopped downstairs for some breakfast.

The Missus woke up and came downstairs about 45 minutes later, just in time to steal approximately 33% of the breakfast I made for the two of us (neither of us minded).  After an hour of eating, changing diapers and clothes, and a run through of blocks, trains, and some Sesame Street, we all went outside to clean up the yard.  While I began raking the backyard, the Missus and Jack had a friendly visit with the woman next door, who lent Jack a plastic rake that looked to be made especially for 18 month old boys.  He went at the divider in the driveway while the Missus hit the garden and I moved my way around to the front yard.

A few hours later I was finishing up the front (we had a lot of leaves) when the Missus came out with a wrapped ham and cheese sandwich.  I brought in the house to have lunch with the family.  Refreshed, I went out to put the finishing touches on the yard while she put Jack to bed for his nap.  I snuck out to pick up some groceries at the local bakery and stopped by Starbucks on my way home for some cake and coffee, David Bowie blaring through the speakers (for some reason classic rock always sounds best on Sundays) as I pulled up in front of the house.  The Missus was relaxing on the couch, curled up watching a show about first time house buyers.  I went upstairs to my office with my coffee.  Quick shower, a couple comic books unread from the previous Sunday, and my iPod and within about 20 minutes I was out like a light on the futon.

A "quick nap" turned into about 2.5 hours, and I woke up just as the light was starting to fade.  Everyone was in good spirits, and I barbecued enough for today and tomorrow when I had jack again to myself for the evening.  More playing that originated as attempts to practice 1-2-3's and A-B-C's but devolved into tickle fights and singing, and the boy was off for a quick bath and lights out.  We sat down for a movie (RUN, FATBOY RUN, her choice, which was surprisingly funny) and that was it.  The Missus took a shower and turned in, I grabbed a glass of wine and turned here to check some emails and try to get a few hundred more words down on the novel.

So, the last part didn;t work out so well, but I'm glad I was able to get down how nice today was, even if it doesn't quite translate down to the reader the way I intend it.

Hope you all had a great weekend as well.

Good On Ya, America!

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It looks like we have a new President come next January:

12 minutes ago CNN, the AP, and all the other major news outlets (including John Stewart over at Comedy Central's Indecision 2008) projected Barack Obama as the next President of the United States.  Voter turnout posted astronomical numbers, and when it was officially called, I crept upstairs and kissed my wife, who I was glad to see was as choked up as I was.

It's times like this when it's incredibly difficult to be a sarcastic Geek Monkey when I'm so unbelievably proud and filled with awe at what was accomplished this evening.  It's an extremely long and hard road ahead, but I firmly believe we just took an enormous step in the right direction.