This Is Not News

By the time 1997 hit October, I had already started calling it the Year from Hell. I had graduated from Fordham and already found myself foundering professionally. I had compiled a jack-of-all-trades/master-of-none resume that left me unsure of what field to pursue and without the confidence to sell myself in interviews. I was about to leave my second job since graduation, my apartment in New York was a disaster waiting to happen, and I often supplied the disaster. Friendships strained as my fellow grads and I adjusted to “the real world” and its new demands on us. Wherever my happy place was, it was pretty vacant.

And then I read that Bill Berry was quitting R.E.M. Clearly, the universe had quit playing fair.

I can’t say I was surprised. The poor guy had an aneurysm on stage. If he wanted to go take it easy for life, he was more than entitled. Still, it was one more signal. The glory days of high school and college were over. Time to start moving on. Except, of course, I didn’t. I went to the library, checked out a book collecting all of Rolling Stone’s articles about the band, and served myself a crash course of R.E.M. history as it happened. And I waited for the next album, to see what Berry, Buck, Mills, and Stipe minus Berry would produce.

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Note: One of the perils of blogging for ten years is that you forget which movie quotes you’ve already used for post titles. Turns out this was not the first attempt to write a post called “Have Fun Storming the Castle.” Pattie beat me to it by four years. Who knew?

While I’m on the subject of my favorite movies, it’s worth checking out this Entertainment Weekly feature on The Princess Bride. I remember being in the schoolyard in grade school as a couple of my friends started quoting this movie to me. It sounded crazy, so of course I wanted to see it. When I finally did, I was hooked. I’ve been watching and quoting it ever since. Getting my sister to watch it was one of the awesome things about being an older brother. “Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya” is like the secret handshake of a club of cool people who like this cool movie. That movie made me search out William Goldman’s original book – very good, but different in tone – and his nonfiction books on screenwriting. And I’m always careful to note the difference between mostly dead and all dead.

I should have taken Vizzini’s advice, though.

No, not “Never get involved in a land war in Asia.” I’ve got that one pretty much down. And I’ve never gone in against a Sicilian when death was on the line.

But I should have paid better attention to: “You’ve heard of Plato? Aristotle? Socrates? . . . Morons.”

This story of R.E.M. begins in 1988. Sure, the band had formed in Athens, GA more than eight years earlier. Absolutely, by 1988 they had already helped to usher in the age of college rock, built a large fan base through years of near-constant touring, and even had a Top 40 hit with “The One I Love.” But in my grade-school years in Northeast Philadelphia, I missed all of that. So this story has to begin when R.E.M. left its independent label and signed with Warner Brothers Records.

If they hadn’t “sold out,” I never could have bought in. And what a shame that would have been.

One winter morning, school was canceled because we were supposed to get snow. The snow never really came, so my mother took us out bowling instead. Car rides usually involved a protracted sequence of negotiations, because I usually wanted to listen to the Top 40 station and my mother’s tastes were more to the soft-rock side of the spectrum. She was willing to humor me on many occasions, and this was one of them. As we were driving, a somewhat goofy song started playing. It was catchy, and I thought it was a little absurd that the singer was telling me to stand in the place that I was. But I liked absurd things, so the song stuck in the corner of my mind. But that didn’t quite do it.

Some time later, I came upon a Time magazine review of the album with that song on it, an album called Green. The review led off with the fact that the last song on the album had no title, and the reviewer imagined that this could make for a somewhat difficult situation when fans would want to request the song at concerts. The phrase, “Hey, play “ stuck in my head, and I was once again impressed by the quirkiness of this band. I brought up this fact a year later when I saw a friend had the cassette, but that still didn’t do it for me.

In early 1991, I had carved out a little workspace in the family laundry room, with a desk, a computer, and a radio. I was still listening to Top 40 stations, although format changes meant that I wouldn’t necessarily stick with one for any length of time. One night the DJ announced a new song by R.E.M. and played “Losing My Religion.” That first time, even that didn’t do it for me. It took another few months, of hearing the song on the radio and hearing Green and Out of Time when I hung out with my friends. I got more and more into the music, and I finally borrowed both albums and brought them home.

My mother heard one of them – I’m not sure which – and commented that this was a point where her taste and mine diverged sharply. I don’t think she knew how right she was. This was my entry into a new world of music, music that combined melodies with layers of instruments and often-earnest lyrics to create a mood that could surround me and lift me up; a world that featured people that didn’t fit in everywhere but fit in somewhere and were OK with that. It was the perfect world and the perfect music for a teenage me, and R.E.M. was always at the front of it.

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R.E.M. announced today that they are no longer a band. This bums me out, and it’s hard to explain why. No one’s coming into my house to take my copy of Automatic for the People, after all. I think that what makes me wistful is that, as we grow older, we change. And sometimes we celebrate the growth and change, and sometimes we want to reconnect with our long-gone self. Having things in your life that have grown older with you kind of helps. I will never be 17 years old, sitting in a newspaper office at Holy Ghost listening to Automatic for the first time, again. I will never be 21, sitting in the basement of the McGinley Center at Fordham, typing an article for The Ram while I listened to “New Test Leper” from New Adventures in Hi-Fi for the first time. (If you’re detecting a lot of newspaper offices in this story, you win a prize. That trip downtown to buy New Adventures was my first official date with Pattie, by the way.) But when I listened to Accelerate or Collapse Into Now for the first time, it was a way for my 36-year-old self to look back and wave at those younger mes. I kinda liked that, and now that particular musical gateway is closed.

I may take advantage of the weekend to ramble a little more on the topic, but for now, I just want to present a by-no-means-complete list of 10 R.E.M. songs that are very awesome.

1. Nightswimming, from Automatic for the People.
2. Leave, from New Adventures in Hi-Fi
3. Fall on Me, from Lifes Rich Pageant
4. Half a World Away, from Out of Time
5. Let Me In, from Monster
6. Uberlin, from Collapse Into Now
7. Sad Professor, from Up
8. Sitting Still, from Murmur
9. The Lifting, from Reveal
10. Life and How to Live It, from Fables of the Reconstruction

I went with a one-song-per-album limit there, or I may have just wound up reposting the track list to Automatic. I have around 200 R.E.M. songs on my iPod and I love ’em all. Since it looks like there’s a greatest hits package coming up just in time for the holidays, maybe there’ll be one more chance to add to the list.

Interesting side note from Sunday night’s Eagles-Falcons game: The major reason why the Eagles did not challenge a key interception play is that NBC, which broadcast the game, didn’t show any replays that suggested the play was not, in fact, an interception. Coaches don’t have their own camera feeds, so they are dependent on whatever the TV broadcast shows. It wasn’t until after it was too late to challenge the play that the director found a definitive angle, so the TV broadcasters were able to comment on the play not being an interception and wonder why the Eagles didn’t challenge it – without commenting on the fact that they hadn’t found the relevant information at the time. If they had, the outcome of the play, and thus the game, might have been different. The broadcast wasn’t just showing the audience at home what happened in the game – they were affecting the outcome of the game. There’s a metaphor there somewhere.

I am slightly bummed that I did not get to see The National when they performed in Philadelphia this week. But given that it’s the first week of school and we’ve had some wacky weather here in the city, I’d probably be re-enacting the song “Conversation 16” if I had tried to go to an evening concert during the work week. (The song is about someone concerned that he would eat someone else’s brain. I am implying that I would be a zombie if I went to the concert. I don’t know why Pattie says this band is depressing. End of digression.)

Anyway, I went to the band’s website and found that they had a link to the setlist for each show, which took me to a site called sitelist.fm that I had not previously known about. (Here’s Wednesday night’s set. Looks like a solid list.) The site is sort of a wiki dedicated to tracking concerts, and the setlists include links to YouTube videos of the songs. In this case they included a note that the Thursday concert had started late, so I’m really glad I took a pass on that one. I also went and looked up the last R.E.M. show I saw in Philly. (The National was the opening act that night, which is how I discovered the band. One more thing I owe R.E.M.) One of the things I really liked about that show was that Eddie Vedder came out and sang with the band on “Begin the Begin,” but Setlist.fm linked to a YouTube video from the band’s 2003 concert film Perfect Square. The sound quality was better on the DVD, of course, but this was a really cool moment to see live.

At any rate, I constantly manage to forget exactly which songs I’ve heard at concerts I’ve been to, so Setlist looks like a good site to keep in mind.

And while I’m embedding YouTube videos, check out The National playing “Afraid of Everyone” on Letterman. Awesome song.

Anyone who doubted that George Lucas was going to make more changes to the Star Wars movies got a rude awakening this week when various sites reported that Lucas has added blinking Ewoks, additional desert rocks, and anguished Skywalkers yelling “NO!” in climactic scenes. Plenty of people are upset about this, and we’ll see whether this affects sales of the Blu-Rays coming out this month. But I’m going to take a different tack. At this point, I don’t think Lucas has gone too far. I don’t think he’s gone far enough.

He should just bite the bullet and remake Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi.

Maybe he doesn’t want to trudge back to Tunisia. Fine. Do them as animated films, in the same style as the Clone Wars TV show. Use the original soundtracks if he likes, or hire new actors to do the voices. Heck, since Lucas has managed to create a whole new audience of Star Wars fans who know Cad Bane better than Lobot, an animated version of Luke and Leia’s story might be just what the doctor ordered.

‘Cause here’s the thing. Movies filmed with 70s and 80s technology are never gonna look the way 2011 George Lucas wants them to, and they probably won’t look like 1976 George Lucas wanted them to either. But slapping some 2011 effects on a frame here and there and trying to edit in a few bits of dialogue to the audio track is just going to call attention to the patch job. Nobody’s satisfied. So go ahead. Start from scratch. Stick Emperor Palpatine in Episode IV. Show Bail Organa trying to save Alderaan. Do all the crazy effects shots you want. Those of us with fond memories of 1977 through 1983 can hang out with our VHS, laserdisc and DVD copies, and the audience that likes the prequels and TV show can see the story end in a way that’s familiar to them.

And then, some time in 2027, he can start all over again. Yeah, he’ll be 83, but I expect he’ll have himself digitized by then anyway.

I made it out to see Captain America: The First Avenger last weekend. I enjoyed it. It was definitely a well-done origin movie, and while I haven’t seen Thor yet, it definitely seems like Marvel Studios has its formula down.

The most important thing that Marvel achieved with Iron Man and Captain America is to give the audience ample reason to like the title characters. If you like the character, you’ll want to follow his exploits in sequels, spinoffs, and the Avengers movie. Iron Man achieved this by letting Robert Downey, Jr. loose to make wisecracks and have a ton of fun being Robert Downey, Jr. Captain America does it by using just about every scene to establish what a good, decent, nice guy that Steve Rogers is.

At the beginning of the film, Steve Rogers is a complete physical basket case – he’s short, he’s scrawny, he’s sickly, he’s not particularly coordinated. The film demonstrates this by sticking Chris Evans’ head on a much smaller person through CGI. It looks a little odd, but you get over it, because even as a 98-pound weakling, Steve Rogers is a good guy. He’s trying to enlist in the Army in order to do his part during World War II. He gets himself beaten up by trying to hush someone heckling a newsreel. He ditches a double date to try, yet again, to enlist. He is, in short, the Hero Who Never Gives Up, and it’s easy to be on his side. Contrast that to the hatchet job that Green Lantern did in trying to introduce Hal Jordan.

Once Rogers’ character is established, the movie gets the action plot moving, and that’s competently done. Hugo Weaving does a nice job of portraying the Red Skull as a Nazi who’s decided to break away from the Reich and try to take over the world himself using advanced technology. As a result, the movie is a weird mix of a World War II era war movie and a science fiction action film. Since the filmmakers have tied this movie to the cosmology established in the other films, especially Thor, it’s easier to buy into than I expected.

I think that years from now, people are going to be writing books about the way Marvel has established a film universe. It could all come crashing down at some point, but right now they’re writing a new rulebook.

Nothing bothers me more than reading something and not feeling like I’ve learned anything at the end. I just had that experience with Phil Sheridan’s latest column in the Philadelphia Inquirer. To set up: The Eagles and the Phillies are the two most popular professional sports teams in Philadelphia. Five years ago, no one would suggest that the Phillies were in the same class as the Eagles, in terms of results or popularity. Four division titles and one world championship for the Phillies later, the two teams are on a much more even footing. Scuttlebutt around town is that the Eagles’ management is not happy about this and that the Phillies’ management is not broken up about the Eagles’ unhappiness.

So this simmering tension somehow became a topic of discussion because Eagles president Joe Banner used the Boston Red Sox as an example of a baseball team that aggressively pursues excellence as opposed to the hometown team. So Sheridan tried to re-examine the apparent tension between the two teams and argue that it is a good thing because it motivates each team to try to one-up the other. It’s an interesting premise; I’m not sure I buy it, because I think both teams have ample internal pressure for success. But I could be persuaded by a good argument. Sheridan doesn’t come anywhere close to providing one.

Look at this passage:

To say this was an Eagles town at that point would be an understatement. They were the focus of most of the enthusiasm, passion, controversy, and criticism while the Phillies, a decade removed from their most recent postseason appearance, were struggling for a foothold.

They found it, and there’s little doubt the Eagles’ towering popularity was a motivating factor. Where a number of baseball teams settle for the fresh revenues provided by new ballparks, the Phillies seized their moment. As the Citizens Bank Park presses began printing millions of new dollars, the Phillies reinvested in their team.

The alternative was a return to irrelevance when the novelty of the new ballpark wore off. Ask the Pittsburgh Pirates, whose attendance in gorgeous PNC Park plummeted with the team’s winning percentage. In a market dominated by the Steelers, who have accomplished more than the Eagles in the same time frame, the bar is very high.

Look at that second paragraph. “There’s little doubt the Eagles’ towering popularity was a motivating factor” in the Phillies’ decision to increase their payroll and try to win more games? Why? Where’s the evidence? Where’s the quote from a Phillies official saying, “Yeah, we were thinking of keeping the payroll down, but we just couldn’t do it because those Eagles are so darned popular.” There is none.

In fact, there’s evidence for a competing theory right in the excerpt. Teams that don’t succeed suffer from lower attendance and lower revenues. That would be true if the Eagles were lousy or if they won six straight Super Bowls. The comparison to the Pirates looks like it’s evidence in support of Sheridan’s theory because Pittsburgh also has a successful NFL team, but he never does the work to make the information support his theory over competing theories.

OK, so the conclusion that the Phillies were motivated by the Eagles, and said motivation led to their championship, is dubious. What about the idea that the resentment is good for the Eagles? Look at this passage:

But if the Phillies’ rise in popularity, as measured by sellouts and merchandise sales and percentage of local media attention, has annoyed anyone over at NovaCare, and if that annoyance helped drive the Eagles’ aggressive approach to this offseason, how is that a bad thing?

If one thing caused a second thing, and if that second thing caused a third thing, then we should be happy because the third thing is a good thing. But there’s no evidence that the first thing caused the second, or that the second caused the third. So what was the point of the argument?
You may be wondering why I’m spending this much time analyzing a sports column. Well, given the amount of time people spending reading, thinking and arguing about sports, it’s one of the ways that we practice critical thinking without realizing we do it. If we don’t get in the habit of calling out sloppy thinking there, we probably won’t do it when it comes to other topics, either.

Friends of ours recently introduced us to the board game Ticket to Ride, and we liked it so much we immediately bought a copy. In the game, players must gather resources in order to build train lines connecting various cities. The longer and more difficult to build your route is, the more points you accumulate. Each game takes about an hour, and there’s a good level of complexity and planning required. The game has been successful enough that there are numerous sequels and expansions, and I may pick up a copy of the Europe-based game to help my students visualize European geography.

In the course of looking up info about the game series, I found a Wikipedia entry for German-style board games. I had no idea that the nation had lent its name to an entire style of board games, but apparently they like themselves a lot of board games in Germany, with enough German-speaking board game critics available to award a prestigious prize called the Spiel des Jahres (Game of the Year). It’s interesting to read the Wikipedia entry explain what makes a German-style board game different than other board games, and it’s also interesting to realize that as much as I like to play board games, there are people who take them far more seriously than I do. This passage probably explains why I’ve had more success getting my family to play Ticket to Ride than I have with other games:

In contrast to games such as Risk or Monopoly, in which a close game can extend indefinitely, German-style games usually have a mechanism to stop the game within its stated playing time.

So if the German approach creates games I can play with my family without needing to take a week off from work, all I can say is, Danke.