Xark!

Manchester Orchestra Takes the Night

I’ve always imagined that one of the most disheartening roles one can be asked to fulfill is that of the unadvertised opening band.  You know the situation:  you’ve purchased tickets to see a headlining band, and you’re pleased that you’re also a fan of the support act that will come on just before them.  These are the bands for whom you’ve purchased the tickets, and these are the bands that most everyone in the crowd is prepared to see; the show is built around their success.  A week before the show, you notice that the promoters have added a third band to the line-up (or, at least, they’ve added them to the advertising).  While you may have known of the band were you still a hyper in-tune undergrad, now the name just confuses you. 

The band in that position?  Man, that’s got to be rough. 

Here’s their job:  if the ticket says the show starts at 7:30, this band starts at 7:30.  While they want to play with enthusiasm and win some converts, it’s a tough task.  Not only will most of the seats not be filled until sometime after they’ve quit playing, but most of those arriving are busy chatting with friends, getting settled, purchasing drinks and, mostly, they’re just so damned excited about the headliner that their inclination is to wish this first band would spontaneously combust if it would help get you off the stage more quickly.

Look at Me!

Faith Hill still doesn't get it.  Neither does the Tennessean.

As anyone with any interest in country music will remember, at the 2006 Country Music Association Awards, Faith Hill fumbled.  If you didn't see it, youtube did.  Here's the situation:  as the audience waited for the announcement of the winner of the Female Vocalist of the Year Award, cameras focused on all five of the finalists.  When the name "Carrie Underwood" was read, Faith Hill looked at the camera, mouthed the word "What!" and looked as if she were storming away from the camera. 

Over the next several days, while she was being condemned on-line and elsewhere, a number of people rushed to her defense, noting that Faith was clearly joking, that she had a wacky sense of humor in general.  While I initially thought she may have been serious,  I took her at her word that it was joke.  As far as I have seen from my seat in fandom, Faith Hill is a nice enough person with a good number of friends who speak highly of her ethics and behavior.  So, I do indeed trust that she was joking.

Preseason Confusion

Last Saturday evening, Titans Coach Jeff Fisher did not allow starting quarterback Vince Young to play in their preseason game at home against the Washington Redskins.  Young was reportedly being punished for having violated team policy by returning to his home for sleep rather than staying at the team’s hotel rooms.  It was a bit of a disappointment, of course, for fans who attended the game, as well as those who watched it on television (in Nashville, of course, but I would assume also in Washington and wherever it was watched by Young/Titan/NFL fans).

Somehow, Tennessean columnist Joe Biddle has managed to make a column out of this—a muddled, confused and contradictory column, mind you, but yes, a column.  Let’s ignore for the moment the fact that Biddle simultaneously argues that Fisher “did the right thing” and that the Titans “stuck it to their fans” by not playing Young (I mean, Biddle often meanders like this in his columns) and just pay attention to the two main contentions: 1. NFL preseason games are overpriced and a way to “stick it to the fans” and 2. Vince Young should not have been benched because it “disappointed the fans.”

Talk to Me, Quietly

Last weekend, I went to see Talk to Me, the new Don Cheadle film about Washington D.C. radio personality Ralph "Petey" Greene, an ex-con who became a radio personality, political activist, and alcoholic. This combination of attributes constitutes a wonderful character sketch; the film traces out Greene’s ups and downs, as well as his relationship with Dewey Hughes, who becomes his best friend after a troubling beginning (Dewey has his own family issues and problems with his understanding of what it means to be a “successful black man” in the early 1960s). I can’t imagine anyone not liking the film.  Cheadle’s been a miracle of the screen ever since Picket Fences; the story is engaging but not heavy handed, and the pacing keeps you engaged throughout the film.  More, if you have any sense of the history of the 60s through the 80s, you’ll certainly find the soundtrack, styles and events seductive.  In short, I endorse this film; I can’t imagine you leaving dissatisfied with your decision to see it.

But I’m not writing this post solely to endorse the movie.  It’s more of my entryway to rant about a number of aspects of going to see films.  At the risk of disappointing Brittney Gilbert, who hates lists, I’m going to provide a rant list of five aspects of going to see films that irk me, all of them occurring in a perfect storm at this one film, almost ruining the experience:

The Virtues of Slickness

Last week, my Bonnie and I attended a campaign function for Nashville Mayoral candidate David Briley.  The week before, we had gone to a similar gathering for Karl Dean in our ongoing quest to distinguish between the two as we attempt to choose with whom to place our vote.  As I’ve noted before, the candidates have more commonalities than differences in terms of the policies about which we care most.  As a result, we’ve been taking every opportunity to seek out the candidates.

What I want to discuss here, however, can be generalized outward from the two candidates to the larger political concern.  After seeing David Briley, we were both taken with his interpersonal style.  He was clear, outspoken, and engaging.  When asked about his leadership style, he answered not only with confident enthusiasm but also with a style that seemed to reach out to the person who asked the question.  Indeed, regardless of what he was asked, Briley was charming, speaking in a style that exuded a vague sense of “leadership” and likeability.

Our attendance at the Karl Dean talk was decidedly different.  While his prepared remarks were well structured and thoughtful, and while his responses to questions were as thorough as one gets from candidates, he seemed a bit ill at ease, as if he would rather be elsewhere.  We found him, frankly, interpersonally awkward. When this was mentioned to the woman hosting the Dean talk, she responded something to the nature of “Yes, he’s a bit shy.  That’s what I like about him.  He doesn’t seem like a politician.”

The Mayor's Children, My Vote

As the date for the local mayoral and Metro Council elections approaches here in Nashville, I've been trying, with some difficulty, to differentiate between my two favorite mayoral candidates--David Briley and Karl Dean.  Regardless of how much, and how often, I read about their positions, regardless of how many of my "in the know" friends I ask, I still can't come to a strong position on which one I should support. 

I have, however, found an issue that I am beginning to think might act as a personal wedge or divining rod.  Oddly enough, this is not properly a political issue, not in the traditional sense.  In brief, Karl Dean sends his children to private schools, and tha may well become the litmus test upon which I vote for David Briley in this particular election.

While the educational placement of a candidate's children has not been a deciding issue for me in national elections (e.g., I wouldn't have been concerned about Clinton or Bush's children) or in some other local elections, this is generally because I see more meaningful distinctions between the candidates.   All else being equal, I'm leaning toward making this the deciding issue.  The question that keeps bothering me, however, is whether or not this is significant.  Is this indeed a legitimate basis for making a decision?

Memory's Bite

Last Friday, my son and I went to Grimey's for a free in-store performance by Peter Searcy.  While I absolutely love the shows at Grimey's as well as the free PBR they serve during those shows, I went to see Searcy more because of his musical history than anything else.  Searcy was the voice of Squirrel Bait, one of my all time favorite bands, authors of the transcendent, "Sun God."  Hailing from Louisville, these guys played fiercely emotional guitar punk, somewhat on the lines of Husker Du, only better.  Searcy's voice, combined with extraordinary guitar work by David Grubbs, chills me to this day (the drums are pretty damned near Keith Moon levels as well). 

While Squirrel Bait gave rise to several bands that reached great acclaim--Slint, Gastr del Sol among them--nothing else ever caught my attention quite as much.  Searcy, the greatest voice in rock and roll, joined Big Wheel, a duller sounding, poppier version of Squirrel Bait that I gave up on after watching them live several times, and then Starbilly, which I never even tried.  I simply gave up on him at this point, even though he released some solo material in the following years.  I even skipped a few shows when Searcy played locally because I secretly wanted to see Searcy lead Squirrel Bait through that first EP.

 

Free admission, however, and free beer, at my favorite store, was just the ticket.  And, to be honest, the show was more fun than I expected.  Searcy worked hard in front of a keyboard-bass rhythm section, did a pseudo-version of VH-1s Storytellers with most of the songs, and had a fantastically charming keyboardist.  All in all, it was a fun show; no magic, but fun.  However, when I listened to the CD, "Sparkle," later that night, I found myself somewhat disappointed.  Sharp songwriting, fun memorable hooks, big production, but something was lacking.  When my son turned to me and said, "This sounds like something that would be played on Lightning 100," Nashville's adult alternative station, I understood what was bothering me.  Now, nothing against adult alternative; I like a lot of it.  But that's not why I went to see Peter Searcy, that's not what I wanted from him.  I wanted raspy screaming vocals . . . angry and meaningful.  This "Sparkle," . . . well, let's just say that I felt disappointed.  Searcy was ruining my memories.

Nashville's Kings

In the liner notes of his 2004 CD, East Nashville Skyline, Todd Snider wrote of the song “Nashville,” “But listen . . .Seriously . . . in the clubs at night, I’ll put our town against anybody’s in any genre ever. Period.”  That’s a bold claim.  Even on an album with one of the greatest all time songs (i.e., “Play a Train Song”), that’s gutsy, just asking for an argument.  As much as I love this town, and its music, as much as I like seeing local bands and local musicians playing on street corners, I don’t know that I would want to be forced to defend that claim.  Nonetheless, two discs released this year help make the case.  If we’re not the best, we certainly have moments that make one wonder.

Evidence:  in the space of the past several months, we’ve seen the release of the newest Kings of Leon CD, Because of the Times, and Tommy Womack’s There, I Said It.  Each of these CDs, in their own way, is driven by a mix of mature resignation and vulnerability.  While the recordings have very little in common beyond that mix, both give me the types of chills that remind me why I fell in love with music as a kid.

The Perils of Common Sense

In local Nashville politics, there’s a controversy over the attempt of the Metro school board to mandate standard school attire for children in all Metro Public Schools.  There are a number of elements to the battle that are interesting—most notably the articulate public statements made by several area students and the vocal reaction of the local blogosphere.  Indeed, those interested can find a wonderful articulation/summary of the arguments in the midst of an original statement by NashvilleIsTalking’s Brittney Gilbert (I strongly encourage you to read this if you have any interest in pubic education, school attire, or local controversies). 

There’s been enough said about the topic itself that I have little to add.  However, there’s a lesson to be drawn from the arguments in general that I think should give us all pause.  It’s a lesson we’ve all learned before, a mistake we’ve promised not to make again:  the pitfalls of common sense.  In short: when one looks at the arguments involved in this case, a great number of people—especially those supporting standard school attire (think school uniforms)—have taken a position based on common sense rather than on research.  In doing so, they ultimately support a position that may have little to do with their ultimate goals.