Here I am in the Twenty-Seventh City, St. Louis, Mo. I came here to get acquainted with my new sponsor, Charter Communications. When I arrived yesterday afternoon, they took me to a photo shoot to get some head shots done. The photographer's studio was in a really cool old building downtown called the City Museum, and the photographer was this recently divorced middle-aged guy who lives in his studio and knows lots of dirty jokes. I liked him a lot.
Last night a couple of Charter people took me out to dinner (at a steak restaurant, unfortunately), and today I went to the corporate HQ to meet Jeff, the VP who's organizing this whole sponsorship deal here. This afternoon we went over to their local office and I gave a sort of motivational talk to some of their call center employees. I'm not much of a public speaker, but I think it went pretty well, and people asked a lot of questions. I'm going to be doing a bunch more of these things over the coming year. Tomorrow I fly back to Colorado and resume skiing.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Monday, November 21, 2005
with apologies to Leno...
So you know those lists of unintentionally funny headlines that people periodically forward you? I definitely just stumbled upon a new one.
saturday
The most popular posts on this blog generally seem to be the ones where I tell about some misadventure I've gotten myself into. With that in mind, here's what happened to me when I was skiing on Saturday.
We spent the morning doing lots of boring technique drills. After lunch, a small group of us went out free-skiing. The other guys still had their race skis on but I had on my big fat powder skis, so I decided to go ski some bump runs by myself. There was still quite a bit of soft, fresh snow everywhere from the storms last week, and I was having a blast. I'm not much of a mogul skier, but I was really getting into it. On my third run, I was skiing a steep, narrow run called Outrigger when I misjudged a bump and landed pretty far forward on the tip of my ski. As I landed, the rear screws holding the heelpiece of my binding onto my ski ripped out, my ski fell off and tumbled down the hill, and the heelpiece landed a few feet away from me. I bounced upright almost immediately and sat there with no ski, looking around the vacant run and surveying the situation. I was more annoyed than distraught — I would probably have to get a ride down in a ski patrol sled instead of getting to finish my run.
A few people soon skied by me, and one woman skied right by my heelpiece. "Is this yours?" she asked. Meanwhile, a guy on a snowboard rode by my ski. Putting together what had happened, he took off his board and began hiking back up the hill to bring me my ski. Strangers are really nice to people they perceive as being in trouble, so I didn't bother telling either one of them that it would do me no good to have my ski and binding back, since I wouldn't be able to use them unless I had a couple Helicoils and a drill to fix the binding with. I thanked the guy and asked him if he would go tell ski patrol to come and help me out. He said he would, and took off.
For the next twenty or thirty minutes, I sat there in the middle of the run holding my ski and broken binding, admiring the mountain panorama, blue skies, and the towns of Winter Park, Fraser, and Tabernash stretched out in front of me along U.S. Route 40. People skied by occasionally, and some of them stopped to ask if I was OK. I smiled and said yes, explaining that I was just waiting for a ride down from ski patrol. Eventually the guy who had originally alerted ski patrol for me rode by again
At last a ski patroller in his fifties, with a white beard, picked his way down through the bumps to where I was sitting. He wasn't a great skier. I told him I was glad to see him and tried to explain what had happened. By then I had realized that I wouldn't need a sled ride down if I could get him to ski down to the locker room, find another one of my skis, and bring it up to me. I managed to convince him to do this after he had radioed his supervisor for permission, and he took off down the run with my ski and broken binding.
Two more ski patrollers soon approached, and I started explaining that I was all set, or at least would be as soon as the first guy got back. They seemed confused. "Or did you not hear about this on your radio?" I asked. They shook their heads; I guess they hadn't been paying attention. They continued on their way. I went back to admiring the view and started trying to think about how I could use this misadventure in one of the speeches I'm going to have to give in front of the employees of my new sponsor. If there were any didactic life lessons to be gleaned here, they were escaping me at the moment. It grew colder, and eventually the sun had moved enough that it left the trail cast in shade. I shivered a little.
Twenty minutes went by, then thirty. Going inside to get a ski should take at the most three minutes, and the lift ride up only takes about twelve, so I was starting to wonder. After thirty-five minutes he finally showed up — with the same ski, the original binding reattached. He explained that he hadn't been able to find my other skis, so he had the comp center ski shop fix the broken one; that's what had taken so long. The issue now was whether the repair would hold long enough for me to make it down the rest of the mogul field. I picked my way down with the ski patroller following me, and eventually made it to the safety of a groomed run. I thanked him while internally feeling annoyed at his incompetence; I probably should have been more grateful. After all, he saved my ass.
We spent the morning doing lots of boring technique drills. After lunch, a small group of us went out free-skiing. The other guys still had their race skis on but I had on my big fat powder skis, so I decided to go ski some bump runs by myself. There was still quite a bit of soft, fresh snow everywhere from the storms last week, and I was having a blast. I'm not much of a mogul skier, but I was really getting into it. On my third run, I was skiing a steep, narrow run called Outrigger when I misjudged a bump and landed pretty far forward on the tip of my ski. As I landed, the rear screws holding the heelpiece of my binding onto my ski ripped out, my ski fell off and tumbled down the hill, and the heelpiece landed a few feet away from me. I bounced upright almost immediately and sat there with no ski, looking around the vacant run and surveying the situation. I was more annoyed than distraught — I would probably have to get a ride down in a ski patrol sled instead of getting to finish my run.
A few people soon skied by me, and one woman skied right by my heelpiece. "Is this yours?" she asked. Meanwhile, a guy on a snowboard rode by my ski. Putting together what had happened, he took off his board and began hiking back up the hill to bring me my ski. Strangers are really nice to people they perceive as being in trouble, so I didn't bother telling either one of them that it would do me no good to have my ski and binding back, since I wouldn't be able to use them unless I had a couple Helicoils and a drill to fix the binding with. I thanked the guy and asked him if he would go tell ski patrol to come and help me out. He said he would, and took off.
For the next twenty or thirty minutes, I sat there in the middle of the run holding my ski and broken binding, admiring the mountain panorama, blue skies, and the towns of Winter Park, Fraser, and Tabernash stretched out in front of me along U.S. Route 40. People skied by occasionally, and some of them stopped to ask if I was OK. I smiled and said yes, explaining that I was just waiting for a ride down from ski patrol. Eventually the guy who had originally alerted ski patrol for me rode by again
At last a ski patroller in his fifties, with a white beard, picked his way down through the bumps to where I was sitting. He wasn't a great skier. I told him I was glad to see him and tried to explain what had happened. By then I had realized that I wouldn't need a sled ride down if I could get him to ski down to the locker room, find another one of my skis, and bring it up to me. I managed to convince him to do this after he had radioed his supervisor for permission, and he took off down the run with my ski and broken binding.
Two more ski patrollers soon approached, and I started explaining that I was all set, or at least would be as soon as the first guy got back. They seemed confused. "Or did you not hear about this on your radio?" I asked. They shook their heads; I guess they hadn't been paying attention. They continued on their way. I went back to admiring the view and started trying to think about how I could use this misadventure in one of the speeches I'm going to have to give in front of the employees of my new sponsor. If there were any didactic life lessons to be gleaned here, they were escaping me at the moment. It grew colder, and eventually the sun had moved enough that it left the trail cast in shade. I shivered a little.
Twenty minutes went by, then thirty. Going inside to get a ski should take at the most three minutes, and the lift ride up only takes about twelve, so I was starting to wonder. After thirty-five minutes he finally showed up — with the same ski, the original binding reattached. He explained that he hadn't been able to find my other skis, so he had the comp center ski shop fix the broken one; that's what had taken so long. The issue now was whether the repair would hold long enough for me to make it down the rest of the mogul field. I picked my way down with the ski patroller following me, and eventually made it to the safety of a groomed run. I thanked him while internally feeling annoyed at his incompetence; I probably should have been more grateful. After all, he saved my ass.
brokeback mountain
In case you hadn't heard, the Ang Lee-directed film adaptation of Annie Proulx's gay cowboy short story Brokeback Mountain will be released Dec. 9, starring Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhall. Which logically leads to two questions:
1. Did Ang Lee take on the project before or after the publication of this Onion column?
2. Will Ledger and Gyllenhall be eating pudding?
1. Did Ang Lee take on the project before or after the publication of this Onion column?
2. Will Ledger and Gyllenhall be eating pudding?
Thursday, November 17, 2005
B & S
If you have RealPlayer and happen to be a fan of the Scottish band Belle & Sebastian, click here to watch them performing a new song for BBC TV.
Monday, November 14, 2005
the frolic architecture of the snow, pt. 2
Last year I wrote a post by this title (I think), in which I linked to its source, this poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson. I was reminded of it again today in one of the nastiest blizzards I've seen in quite a while. It's been snowing for the better part of two days, and it hasn't let up yet. On the contrary, at one point today it was probably accumulating at about two inches an hour, and blowing like hell to boot. I was up at the ski area unloading skis and gear from my car into the locker room, and each trip I made outside was nastier than the one before. One time when I opened the trunk of my van, it only took a minute for the interior to be covered by a half-inch thick carpet of blowing snow. By the time I left the ski area, the wind was so strong that it was difficult to walk in a northerly direction without goggles on.
After the snow off the side of my car, I got in and tried to wipe the accumulated snow off the windshield with my wipers — big mistake. The wind had packed the snow much denser than the usual Colorado powder, and my wipers struggled to push the snow once, then gave up. No amount of finagling would get my wipers to move, so I cleared the rest of the windshield off with a brush and started to drive away. I only drove a few meters before realizing that I would never be able to get home this way; I'd have to stop every thirty seconds to brush the snow off the windshield. As I came to terms with this while stopped on the resort access road in a near-whiteout, a guy driving in a van behind me got out and asked if I needed any help. Not to get all Blanche DuBois, but thank goodness for the kindness of strangers. He followed me as I turned around and drove back to the parking lot, and then gave me a ride home from there. I guess I'll get a ride back there tomorrow once it's stopped snowing and see if I can get someone to fix the windshield wipers...
Now Ted Leo is on the stereo and I'm in front of the fireplace with pizza and Seinfeld reruns. Things could be a lot worse.
As a side note, you don't have to be a rock geek to appreciate Pitchfork's latest feature, "The Worst Record Covers of All Time."
After the snow off the side of my car, I got in and tried to wipe the accumulated snow off the windshield with my wipers — big mistake. The wind had packed the snow much denser than the usual Colorado powder, and my wipers struggled to push the snow once, then gave up. No amount of finagling would get my wipers to move, so I cleared the rest of the windshield off with a brush and started to drive away. I only drove a few meters before realizing that I would never be able to get home this way; I'd have to stop every thirty seconds to brush the snow off the windshield. As I came to terms with this while stopped on the resort access road in a near-whiteout, a guy driving in a van behind me got out and asked if I needed any help. Not to get all Blanche DuBois, but thank goodness for the kindness of strangers. He followed me as I turned around and drove back to the parking lot, and then gave me a ride home from there. I guess I'll get a ride back there tomorrow once it's stopped snowing and see if I can get someone to fix the windshield wipers...
Now Ted Leo is on the stereo and I'm in front of the fireplace with pizza and Seinfeld reruns. Things could be a lot worse.
As a side note, you don't have to be a rock geek to appreciate Pitchfork's latest feature, "The Worst Record Covers of All Time."
Thursday, November 10, 2005
caught on camera
Abby, her friends, and I were snapped by a Time Out Chicago photographer at the wine tasting we went to last week. We are in the second photo down on the right; too bad it's so small.
Monday, November 07, 2005
kearney, nebraska
Stopping in central Nebraska for the night after driving from Chicago today. In three eventful days there with Abby and Shifra, I: went to a wine tasting, a Ben Lee concert, and a sketch comedy show; drank at four bars and ate at three restaurants; bought a business suit; and tagged along with Abby to a breast cancer support group of middle-aged evangelical African-American women in a megachurch on the South Side. That last one was a highlight — I don't think I've ever been more out of my element before, at least not in this country.
When I pulled off I-80 in Kearney this evening, I gassed up, got some food, and drove down the main drag to see what there was to the town. Like many western towns, you get the sense that there's not much left of this place other than a five-lane concrete road lined with fast food franchises, motels, and gas stations. But it turns out that not only does Kearney still have a downtown, it still has businesses in many of its storefronts even as so many other downtowns out here sit vacant as the local Wal-Mart Supercenter's parking lots overflow. Of course everything except the bars was closed when I drove through at 7:30 p.m., but the town is obviously still proud of its old bank buildings, five-and-dimes, and especially a big white-columned building that houses MONA, the Museum of Nebraska Art.
I guess Kearney is still thriving in comparison to some other towns because of the steady stream of road-tripping families who stop off here to check out the historical monuments — in particular the ridiculous Archway Monument they built across I-80 in 1999. Build a big pedestrian bridge, add a gift shop, and call it a tourist attraction? Hey, whatever works.
(Researching links for this post, I learned a great little tidbit about Kearney's name. It was built on the site of Fort Kearny, and the city of Kearney derives its name from the original fort, but due to a postal error an "e" was inadvertently added and then never changed." — http://www.kearney.net/history2.html)
When I pulled off I-80 in Kearney this evening, I gassed up, got some food, and drove down the main drag to see what there was to the town. Like many western towns, you get the sense that there's not much left of this place other than a five-lane concrete road lined with fast food franchises, motels, and gas stations. But it turns out that not only does Kearney still have a downtown, it still has businesses in many of its storefronts even as so many other downtowns out here sit vacant as the local Wal-Mart Supercenter's parking lots overflow. Of course everything except the bars was closed when I drove through at 7:30 p.m., but the town is obviously still proud of its old bank buildings, five-and-dimes, and especially a big white-columned building that houses MONA, the Museum of Nebraska Art.
I guess Kearney is still thriving in comparison to some other towns because of the steady stream of road-tripping families who stop off here to check out the historical monuments — in particular the ridiculous Archway Monument they built across I-80 in 1999. Build a big pedestrian bridge, add a gift shop, and call it a tourist attraction? Hey, whatever works.
(Researching links for this post, I learned a great little tidbit about Kearney's name. It was built on the site of Fort Kearny, and the city of Kearney derives its name from the original fort, but due to a postal error an "e" was inadvertently added and then never changed." — http://www.kearney.net/history2.html)
Monday, October 31, 2005
hallowe'en
I'm sitting outside the Portland Public Library across from Monument Square, mooching off their wireless connection. Although I have no costume, I'm getting ready to go out for a bit of carousing this evening. I like the whole costume thing in principle, but this year I just couldn't be bothered to come up with one. Lame, I know.
A few big things have happened since I posted last. A fairly mundane one is that I crashed pretty hard on the last day of slalom training in Hintertux and kind of messed up my shoulder. It's weaker than normal and my range of motion is limited a bit, but it has already improved in the course of a few days, so I should be fine by the next time I'm scheduled to ski.
A more significant happening is that Charter Communications, a cable TV company, has agreed to sponsor me this season. They will be paying for just about all my training and travel expenses in exchange for me speaking at some of their corporate events. I'm somewhat terrified at this prospect, but I'd be willing to do just about anything in exchange for a company that's that generous to me with its money. What can I say, I'm a ski racing harlot.
OK, time for the carousing to begin...
A few big things have happened since I posted last. A fairly mundane one is that I crashed pretty hard on the last day of slalom training in Hintertux and kind of messed up my shoulder. It's weaker than normal and my range of motion is limited a bit, but it has already improved in the course of a few days, so I should be fine by the next time I'm scheduled to ski.
A more significant happening is that Charter Communications, a cable TV company, has agreed to sponsor me this season. They will be paying for just about all my training and travel expenses in exchange for me speaking at some of their corporate events. I'm somewhat terrified at this prospect, but I'd be willing to do just about anything in exchange for a company that's that generous to me with its money. What can I say, I'm a ski racing harlot.
OK, time for the carousing to begin...
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
tuesday
Three days of skiing left for us here in Austria now. Today was GS training; yesterday we got to free-ski on our super G skis for a while, which is always fun. (Super G skis are long — 200-205 cm — and built to ski really fast.)
On Sunday we drove over to Sölden, a couple hours away, to watch the opening men's World Cup GS race. The American Bode Miller had a commanding lead after the first run and even halfway through the second run, but he was outskied on the bottom half of the run by the Austrian Hermann Maier, who managed to beat him by 0.06 seconds... still, second place is not a bad first result of the season for Bode. The best story of the day for the Americans, though, was the 8th-place finish by Ted Ligety, who's only 22 or so and had only once before cracked the top 10 of a World Cup race. Although he was best known as a slalom skier until now, he really showed off his GS skills on Sunday. Because of his low international ranking in GS, he started with bib number 64 out of 75 or so. He finished the first run in 24th place, and then moved up to 8th by winning the second run outright. He got a special award for being the racer who finished the furthest ahead of his start number.
World Cup ski races in Europe are a big spectacle. No ski event in the U.S. can really prepare you for how much they care about ski racing over here. Almost all the Europeans in the race (even the rookies and also-rans) have their own fan club, usually based in their home towns. The clubs charter tour buses and party the entire way from their little Italian or Austrian or Slovenian village to the site of the race. The night before the race, they stake out a section in the finish-area bleachers and erect huge billboards praising their athletes. Then during the race they blow air horns and ring giant cowbells when the skier is on course, all the while consuming massive quantities of beer, schnapps, and glüwein.
On Sunday we drove over to Sölden, a couple hours away, to watch the opening men's World Cup GS race. The American Bode Miller had a commanding lead after the first run and even halfway through the second run, but he was outskied on the bottom half of the run by the Austrian Hermann Maier, who managed to beat him by 0.06 seconds... still, second place is not a bad first result of the season for Bode. The best story of the day for the Americans, though, was the 8th-place finish by Ted Ligety, who's only 22 or so and had only once before cracked the top 10 of a World Cup race. Although he was best known as a slalom skier until now, he really showed off his GS skills on Sunday. Because of his low international ranking in GS, he started with bib number 64 out of 75 or so. He finished the first run in 24th place, and then moved up to 8th by winning the second run outright. He got a special award for being the racer who finished the furthest ahead of his start number.
World Cup ski races in Europe are a big spectacle. No ski event in the U.S. can really prepare you for how much they care about ski racing over here. Almost all the Europeans in the race (even the rookies and also-rans) have their own fan club, usually based in their home towns. The clubs charter tour buses and party the entire way from their little Italian or Austrian or Slovenian village to the site of the race. The night before the race, they stake out a section in the finish-area bleachers and erect huge billboards praising their athletes. Then during the race they blow air horns and ring giant cowbells when the skier is on course, all the while consuming massive quantities of beer, schnapps, and glüwein.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
subject? nah.
We trained on a pretty steep, bumpy GS course sandwiched right in between the T-bar and another GS course. The other course was so close to ours that our coaches had to set our almost identically to theirs to make sure we wouldn't collide with other the racers if we were on course at the same time. That's kind of standard procedure over here in Europe; not as much attention is paid to safety as in the U.S., and space is at a premium.
That said, training was a blast. I got four runs on the course, and I really got after it every run. I haven't seen our times yet, but I'd be surprised if I wasn't consistently one of three fastest monoskiers.
Tomorrow we head over to Sölden to watch the opening men's World Cup GS race. You can check out the results here if you're interested.
That said, training was a blast. I got four runs on the course, and I really got after it every run. I haven't seen our times yet, but I'd be surprised if I wasn't consistently one of three fastest monoskiers.
Tomorrow we head over to Sölden to watch the opening men's World Cup GS race. You can check out the results here if you're interested.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
gold soundz
For about the past 48 hours, my waking life has been dominated by internally-mounted speakers playing music by the band Pavement. This is a band that existed from 1989 to 1999, releasing five albums of music that, for most rock snobs, pretty much came to define the subgenre known as "indie rock." Their music built on the punk, post-punk, and new-wave movements of the 1980s, but introduced new elements that became widely imitated, namely: (1) dense, muddy production that at first sounds almost chaotic, despite that containing the same instruments that had been the backbone of rock and roll for decades: electric guitars, bass guitar, drums, and vocals, plus the occasional keyboard; (2) lyrics laden with self-conscious irony; and (3) most distinctively, the careless, sometimes even bored-sounding vocals of lead singer Stephen Malkmus.
Malkmus, who has released three excellent records since Pavement's breakup with a backing band called the Jicks, is a sort of indie-rock poster child, his unkempt golden hair, lanky frame, and devious grin serving as a role model-cum-sex-symbol for aspiring hipsters everywhere. The adjective that music magazines always seem to use when describing him is "impish." His lyrics and vocal style can both sometimes be infuriating. At first he seems not to give a shit about anything at all, since all his studio performances seem so tossed-off and unstudied. But the album and song titles are the first clue that this isn't the case. They sometimes consist of words and phrases that sound vaguely familiar, but out of context in rock music ("Major Leagues," "Shady Lane," "Western Homes," "Embassy Row"), but more commonly they're non-phrases, nouns and verbs and adjectives strung together in ways that are grammatically correct but utterly novel, like Noam Chomsky's famous example of a perfectly grammatical nonsense sentence, "Colorless green ideas sleep furiously." Some examples from Pavement titles: "Elevate Me Later," "Hit the Plane Down," "Soiled Little Filly," "Hands Off the Bayou," "Kennel District," "Zurich Is Stained," "Conduit For Sale!," "Spit On a Stranger," "Carrot Rope," "Half A Canyon," "Grave Architecture," "Serpentine Pad"... the list could go on for pages. These are the sorts of phrases where, if you Googled them in quotation marks, you would never get a single non-Pavement-related result because no one else has thought to combine these words in this particular way before.
I first became aware of the existence of Pavement sometime in the mid-nineties when they recorded a song called "Unseen Power of the Picket Fence" as a sort of tribute to R.E.M., another favorite band of mine. But it wasn't until a few years ago, spurred on by my cousin Finn's affinity for the band, that I began seeking out their music and discovering my own favorite nuggets contained within the hectic boundaries of Pavement's first two (and best) albums, Slanted & Enchanted and Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain.
If there is an archetypal Pavement song, surely it is "Gold Soundz," found on CRCR. First off, it features the signature bright, jangly guitars, herky-jerky rhythm section, and perhaps as memorable a melodic hook as the band ever came up with. But you're really only going to appreciate those elements if you actually listen to the song. What's really amazing about "Gold Soundz" are the lyrics, which straddle the boundary between sincerity and irony with breathtaking aplomb:
Go back to those gold soundz
And keep my advent to your self
Because it’s nothing I don’t like
Is it a crisis or a boring change?
When it’s central, so essential,
It has a nice ring when you laugh
At the low-life opinions
And they’re coming to the chorus now...
I keep your address to myself
’Cause we need secrets
We need secrets -crets -crets -crets -crets -crets back right now
Because I never wanna make you feel
That you’re social
Never ignorant soul
Believe in what you wanna do
And do you think that is a major flaw
When they rise up in the falling rain?
And if you stay around with your knuckles ground down
The trial’s over, weapon’s found
Keep my address to myself
Because it’s secret
'Cause it’s secret -cret -cret -cret -cret -cret back right now
So drunk in the August sun
And you’re the kind of girl I like
'Cause you’re empty and I’m empty
And you can never quarantine the past
Did you remember in December
That I won’t eat you when I’m gone?
And if I go there, I won’t stay there
Because I’m sitting here too long
I’ve been sitting here too long
And I’ve been wasted
Advocating that word for the last word
Last words come up all you’ve got to waste.
Only Malkmus would dare follow the line "It has a nice ring when you laugh" with "...at the low-life opinions," or "You're the kind of girl I like" with "...because you're empty, and I'm empty." I think the narrator genuinely does like this girl, and he genuinely knows that he likes her for all the wrong reasons: because she's a shallow, arty snob just like him. It's easy to read these lines as a critique of the indie types Malkmus hangs out with, but the "I" in the song could just as easily be a younger, more jaded version of Malkmus himself. (The hipster's progression of personal growth, of course, runs not from simple to complex but from complex to simple, as s/he realizes the value of straightahead sincerity — remember Dylan: "I was so much older then; I'm younger than that now.")
Another Pavement hallmark on view here is self-referentiality, self-awareness, being "meta" — whatever you want to call it. After the line about "low-life opinions," Malkmus needs another line to finish the verse before his bandmates kick in for the chorus, so what does he do? He actually sings, "And they're comin' to the chorus now"! Inspired, or idiotic? Your call, I guess, but I think the man is a goddamn genius.
And what of that chorus? "We need secrets back right now" — is this some sort of large-scale social commentary in which the "we" represents the Indie-Rock Nation, or all of America, or the whole world? Or is it just a throwaway, a backhanded slap at bullshit lit-crit theorists who would dare to make pronouncements like that? Somehow Malkmus manages to leave it open-ended.
The last thing I'm going to say about "Gold Soundz" for now is: how awesome is that title? Remember, this is 1994. White teenagers do not yet regularly pluralize their nouns on AIM by adding Z. No, Malkmus is on the cutting edge here. If I had to make a conjecture, I would say he stole it from hip-hop — after all, N.W.A. stood for "Niggaz With Attitude," and that was back in '88.
Well, all that must have been on my mind all day; maybe that's why slalom training sucked. Thanks for reading this far. Now maybe I can let go of Pavement and listen to something else.
Malkmus, who has released three excellent records since Pavement's breakup with a backing band called the Jicks, is a sort of indie-rock poster child, his unkempt golden hair, lanky frame, and devious grin serving as a role model-cum-sex-symbol for aspiring hipsters everywhere. The adjective that music magazines always seem to use when describing him is "impish." His lyrics and vocal style can both sometimes be infuriating. At first he seems not to give a shit about anything at all, since all his studio performances seem so tossed-off and unstudied. But the album and song titles are the first clue that this isn't the case. They sometimes consist of words and phrases that sound vaguely familiar, but out of context in rock music ("Major Leagues," "Shady Lane," "Western Homes," "Embassy Row"), but more commonly they're non-phrases, nouns and verbs and adjectives strung together in ways that are grammatically correct but utterly novel, like Noam Chomsky's famous example of a perfectly grammatical nonsense sentence, "Colorless green ideas sleep furiously." Some examples from Pavement titles: "Elevate Me Later," "Hit the Plane Down," "Soiled Little Filly," "Hands Off the Bayou," "Kennel District," "Zurich Is Stained," "Conduit For Sale!," "Spit On a Stranger," "Carrot Rope," "Half A Canyon," "Grave Architecture," "Serpentine Pad"... the list could go on for pages. These are the sorts of phrases where, if you Googled them in quotation marks, you would never get a single non-Pavement-related result because no one else has thought to combine these words in this particular way before.
I first became aware of the existence of Pavement sometime in the mid-nineties when they recorded a song called "Unseen Power of the Picket Fence" as a sort of tribute to R.E.M., another favorite band of mine. But it wasn't until a few years ago, spurred on by my cousin Finn's affinity for the band, that I began seeking out their music and discovering my own favorite nuggets contained within the hectic boundaries of Pavement's first two (and best) albums, Slanted & Enchanted and Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain.
If there is an archetypal Pavement song, surely it is "Gold Soundz," found on CRCR. First off, it features the signature bright, jangly guitars, herky-jerky rhythm section, and perhaps as memorable a melodic hook as the band ever came up with. But you're really only going to appreciate those elements if you actually listen to the song. What's really amazing about "Gold Soundz" are the lyrics, which straddle the boundary between sincerity and irony with breathtaking aplomb:
Go back to those gold soundz
And keep my advent to your self
Because it’s nothing I don’t like
Is it a crisis or a boring change?
When it’s central, so essential,
It has a nice ring when you laugh
At the low-life opinions
And they’re coming to the chorus now...
I keep your address to myself
’Cause we need secrets
We need secrets -crets -crets -crets -crets -crets back right now
Because I never wanna make you feel
That you’re social
Never ignorant soul
Believe in what you wanna do
And do you think that is a major flaw
When they rise up in the falling rain?
And if you stay around with your knuckles ground down
The trial’s over, weapon’s found
Keep my address to myself
Because it’s secret
'Cause it’s secret -cret -cret -cret -cret -cret back right now
So drunk in the August sun
And you’re the kind of girl I like
'Cause you’re empty and I’m empty
And you can never quarantine the past
Did you remember in December
That I won’t eat you when I’m gone?
And if I go there, I won’t stay there
Because I’m sitting here too long
I’ve been sitting here too long
And I’ve been wasted
Advocating that word for the last word
Last words come up all you’ve got to waste.
Only Malkmus would dare follow the line "It has a nice ring when you laugh" with "...at the low-life opinions," or "You're the kind of girl I like" with "...because you're empty, and I'm empty." I think the narrator genuinely does like this girl, and he genuinely knows that he likes her for all the wrong reasons: because she's a shallow, arty snob just like him. It's easy to read these lines as a critique of the indie types Malkmus hangs out with, but the "I" in the song could just as easily be a younger, more jaded version of Malkmus himself. (The hipster's progression of personal growth, of course, runs not from simple to complex but from complex to simple, as s/he realizes the value of straightahead sincerity — remember Dylan: "I was so much older then; I'm younger than that now.")
Another Pavement hallmark on view here is self-referentiality, self-awareness, being "meta" — whatever you want to call it. After the line about "low-life opinions," Malkmus needs another line to finish the verse before his bandmates kick in for the chorus, so what does he do? He actually sings, "And they're comin' to the chorus now"! Inspired, or idiotic? Your call, I guess, but I think the man is a goddamn genius.
And what of that chorus? "We need secrets back right now" — is this some sort of large-scale social commentary in which the "we" represents the Indie-Rock Nation, or all of America, or the whole world? Or is it just a throwaway, a backhanded slap at bullshit lit-crit theorists who would dare to make pronouncements like that? Somehow Malkmus manages to leave it open-ended.
The last thing I'm going to say about "Gold Soundz" for now is: how awesome is that title? Remember, this is 1994. White teenagers do not yet regularly pluralize their nouns on AIM by adding Z. No, Malkmus is on the cutting edge here. If I had to make a conjecture, I would say he stole it from hip-hop — after all, N.W.A. stood for "Niggaz With Attitude," and that was back in '88.
Well, all that must have been on my mind all day; maybe that's why slalom training sucked. Thanks for reading this far. Now maybe I can let go of Pavement and listen to something else.
Monday, October 17, 2005
alpine adventures
We had some fun times after training today. In Hintertux there are three gondolas in a row; this time of year, you have to take all three to get to the top of the mountain, where the snow is. At the end of the morning's training, we ride the top two gondolas down, then eat lunch at a mid-mountain lodge at the top of the bottom gondola. Today Nick had the idea of wheeling down the access road from the lodge to the bottom of the mountain instead of riding the final gondola down; other people have done this in years past and come back with lots of tall tales. Originally I wasn't going to go, but all the other monoskier guys were doing it so I caved in to peer pressure.
It was a pretty amazing ride down — a really steep, rocky road that we had to pick our way down reeeeally carefully. The views around this place are pretty phenomenal; some of my teammates had cameras with them, so I'll post links to pictures when I get them. After about two hours, we made it down through the forest and emerged into the grassy hillsides above the town of Hintertux. The town is still as much a farming community as a resort, and there are farmers out there herding cows and spreading manure around with little tractors that on our team are known as "poo flingers." We came to a road with a sign pointing to Hintertux, but rather than take it, everyone else thought we should go a different way. Hard-headed as I am, I said I was going to go my own way. Turns out that this road (which I soon noticed was grown over with grass) does not go all the way to Hintertux but rather ends by a long fence in the middle of a pasture. To get over the fence and down into town, I had get off my wheelchair and drag it up a couple of steps that led over the fence. I got my chair over the other side, but then I accidentally let go of it and it started slowly barrel-rolling sideways down the steep, grassy hill. I had no choice but to crawl after it at full speed, through the (fortunately dried-out) grass and manure, in hopes of intercepting it. After maybe 50 feet, I successfully wrangled it and got back in. I was picking my way down the hill when I eventually lost control — it just got too steep. I was hurtling toward the fence enclosing the bottom edge of the pasture with no hope of being able to stop, so eventually I just bailed. My chair got hung up in the fence, and I got even dirtier but was pretty much fine. I got back in my chair yet again and went along the fence until I came to a gap which led me onto an actual paved road, which led me back into town. This was all in my ski clothes, by the way.
Turns out that Joe knew all along that the road led nowhere; he just wanted to see what would happen if he didn't tell me.
It was a pretty amazing ride down — a really steep, rocky road that we had to pick our way down reeeeally carefully. The views around this place are pretty phenomenal; some of my teammates had cameras with them, so I'll post links to pictures when I get them. After about two hours, we made it down through the forest and emerged into the grassy hillsides above the town of Hintertux. The town is still as much a farming community as a resort, and there are farmers out there herding cows and spreading manure around with little tractors that on our team are known as "poo flingers." We came to a road with a sign pointing to Hintertux, but rather than take it, everyone else thought we should go a different way. Hard-headed as I am, I said I was going to go my own way. Turns out that this road (which I soon noticed was grown over with grass) does not go all the way to Hintertux but rather ends by a long fence in the middle of a pasture. To get over the fence and down into town, I had get off my wheelchair and drag it up a couple of steps that led over the fence. I got my chair over the other side, but then I accidentally let go of it and it started slowly barrel-rolling sideways down the steep, grassy hill. I had no choice but to crawl after it at full speed, through the (fortunately dried-out) grass and manure, in hopes of intercepting it. After maybe 50 feet, I successfully wrangled it and got back in. I was picking my way down the hill when I eventually lost control — it just got too steep. I was hurtling toward the fence enclosing the bottom edge of the pasture with no hope of being able to stop, so eventually I just bailed. My chair got hung up in the fence, and I got even dirtier but was pretty much fine. I got back in my chair yet again and went along the fence until I came to a gap which led me onto an actual paved road, which led me back into town. This was all in my ski clothes, by the way.
Turns out that Joe knew all along that the road led nowhere; he just wanted to see what would happen if he didn't tell me.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
First day on snow in Hintertux today. The conditions could hardly have been better: sunny and ranging from 0-10 degrees Celcius, but well below freezing last night so the snow was firm in the morning. A few icy patches and slushy mounds by midday, but that's par for the course on a glacier. I took at least one run on all 6 lifts that are currently open (2 chairs, 4 T-bars). We were just free-skiing around for a couple hours and getting the feel of our skis back again; tomorrow we'll be up training GS. I might need to make my T-bar strap a little longer tomorrow, because on one lift my ski was getting pulled up off the ground. At one point I think only about the last 4 inches of my ski were touching the snow!
Had my first Hotel Alpenhof espresso this afternoon, and it was just as good as I remembered it, although our bartender friend Andreas isn't working here anymore.
Currently reading: Lost For Words, by the excellently named Lynda Mugglestone. It's yet another book about the making of the OED, and it's a little dense and academic, but interesting enough.
Had my first Hotel Alpenhof espresso this afternoon, and it was just as good as I remembered it, although our bartender friend Andreas isn't working here anymore.
Currently reading: Lost For Words, by the excellently named Lynda Mugglestone. It's yet another book about the making of the OED, and it's a little dense and academic, but interesting enough.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
no more shoes
Sometimes the best songs are ones that sound instantly familiar, like you've known them all your life. "No More Shoes," from Stephen Malkmus' latest album, Face the Truth, is like that. Come to think of it, did he steal those opening "doo-doo-do-do-doos" from somewhere??
Arrived in Tux today... getting settled into our usual fall training digs, the Hotel Alpenhof. It's a nice place to stay, and Gabi takes good care of us.
Arrived in Tux today... getting settled into our usual fall training digs, the Hotel Alpenhof. It's a nice place to stay, and Gabi takes good care of us.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
tomorrow
Leaving for Austria tomorrow... this will be basically the beginning of the nonstop part of my winter. We'll be training at our usual fall site, the Hintertux Glacier in Tirol. Based on what I see on their live cams, it looks as though they've already had some decent snowfall there recently. With any luck, the training up on the glacier will be wintry and the weather down in the valley will still be autumnal. Keep checking this space for updates.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
For the record...
Great correction from today's New York Times:
A sports article in some copies on Sunday about Texas' 45-12 defeat of Oklahoma in college football misstated the dominant color worn by Oklahoma fans. It is crimson, not maroon.
A sports article in some copies on Sunday about Texas' 45-12 defeat of Oklahoma in college football misstated the dominant color worn by Oklahoma fans. It is crimson, not maroon.
Sunday, October 09, 2005
why I hate movie trailers
They are usually horrible distortions of what the movie is really about. Case in point: this spoof.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Paralympic tickets
They're now on sale on the web, right here. The dates I may be competing are March 12, 14, 17, and 19.
Here's the press release, for what it's worth:
FAR HILLS, N.J. - CoSport, the Official Ticket Sales Agent of the United States Olympic Committee (USOC), is |
| excited to offer tickets for the 2006 Paralympic Winter Games to residents of the United States. |
| |
| |
| "We are proud to be supporting the Paralympic Movement, and specifically our U.S. Paralympians by providing fans |
| access to these Paralympic Winter Games. This is a tremendous opportunity for the U.S. to support some of the |
| greatest athletes and heroes in the world today," said Matt Bijur, President of CoSport. |
| |
| |
| Tickets for the Paralympic Winter Games can be purchased at www.cosport.com or by calling CoSport at |
| 1-877-45-RINGS (1-877-457-4647). Tickets for all events are available with prices ranging from $3.00 to $42.50 for|
| sporting events, and from $3.00 to $108.00 for Paralympic Winter Games ceremony tickets. |
| |
| |
| In addition to Paralympic Winter Games tickets, CoSport is continuing to sell Torino 2006 Olympic Winter Games |
| tickets as well as ticket and accommodation packages. All information, including the competition schedule, venue |
| information, event times and ticket prices, is available on the CoSport web site www.cosport.com. |
| |
| |
| About CoSport |
| CoSport, LLC is a leading provider of Olympic and Paralympic Winter Games hospitality packages and event tickets |
| to individual consumers. CoSport's array of products and services is the leading choice for consumers seeking |
| rarified access to the Olympic and Paralympic Winter Games. CoSport offers individual Olympic and Paralympic |
| Winter Games tickets and hospitality packages that include premier event tickets, accommodations and accredited |
| ground transportation obtained directly through the Paralympic Organizing Committees. For more information, please|
| visit www.cosport.com. |
| |
| |
| About Jet Set Sports |
| Jet Set Sports LLC, the parent company of CoSport, is a leading provider of Olympic Games hospitality packages and|
| Olympic Games event tickets to corporate clientele. Since 1984, Jet Set Sports has provided clients with |
| unparalleled hospitality experiences at Olympic Games through its VIP Hospitality Programs and Hospitality |
| Management Services. For more information, please visit www.jetsetsports.com. |
| |
| |
| For more information, please contact the USOC's Media & Public Relations Division at (719) 866-4529, or Liz |
| Miello-Alford, CoSport, at (908) 766-2227 (liz@cosport.com).
Here's the press release, for what it's worth:
FAR HILLS, N.J. - CoSport, the Official Ticket Sales Agent of the United States Olympic Committee (USOC), is |
| excited to offer tickets for the 2006 Paralympic Winter Games to residents of the United States. |
| |
| |
| "We are proud to be supporting the Paralympic Movement, and specifically our U.S. Paralympians by providing fans |
| access to these Paralympic Winter Games. This is a tremendous opportunity for the U.S. to support some of the |
| greatest athletes and heroes in the world today," said Matt Bijur, President of CoSport. |
| |
| |
| Tickets for the Paralympic Winter Games can be purchased at www.cosport.com or by calling CoSport at |
| 1-877-45-RINGS (1-877-457-4647). Tickets for all events are available with prices ranging from $3.00 to $42.50 for|
| sporting events, and from $3.00 to $108.00 for Paralympic Winter Games ceremony tickets. |
| |
| |
| In addition to Paralympic Winter Games tickets, CoSport is continuing to sell Torino 2006 Olympic Winter Games |
| tickets as well as ticket and accommodation packages. All information, including the competition schedule, venue |
| information, event times and ticket prices, is available on the CoSport web site www.cosport.com. |
| |
| |
| About CoSport |
| CoSport, LLC is a leading provider of Olympic and Paralympic Winter Games hospitality packages and event tickets |
| to individual consumers. CoSport's array of products and services is the leading choice for consumers seeking |
| rarified access to the Olympic and Paralympic Winter Games. CoSport offers individual Olympic and Paralympic |
| Winter Games tickets and hospitality packages that include premier event tickets, accommodations and accredited |
| ground transportation obtained directly through the Paralympic Organizing Committees. For more information, please|
| visit www.cosport.com. |
| |
| |
| About Jet Set Sports |
| Jet Set Sports LLC, the parent company of CoSport, is a leading provider of Olympic Games hospitality packages and|
| Olympic Games event tickets to corporate clientele. Since 1984, Jet Set Sports has provided clients with |
| unparalleled hospitality experiences at Olympic Games through its VIP Hospitality Programs and Hospitality |
| Management Services. For more information, please visit www.jetsetsports.com. |
| |
| |
| For more information, please contact the USOC's Media & Public Relations Division at (719) 866-4529, or Liz |
| Miello-Alford, CoSport, at (908) 766-2227 (liz@cosport.com).
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