Un! Deux! Trois! Dis: Miroir Noir!

Neon Bible, the sophomore effort from Canadian indie-rockers The Arcade Fire, comes out next Tuesday (having absolutely nothing to do with this picture). A friend managed to somehow get an "advance" copy, and gave me a copy of it on Saturday afternoon. I didn't get around to listening to it until Sunday, and I've been freaking out ever since about how good it is. In fact, I actually haven't listened to anything else since yesterday morning. I have played it over and over, probably at least 15 or 20 times, and I'm showing no signs of any desire to listen to anything else. Not yet, at least. I don't know if I've been this taken with an album since Elliott Smith's posthumous release, From a Basement on a Hill, back in 2004. It should come as no surprise that Neon Bible puts forth almost as bleak an outlook, so maybe that's why I'm making that connection. I can't explain it, but I just LOVE depressing music. It makes me so happy.

Neon Bible starts off with my new favorite song (for the time being), "Black Mirror," but the true highlight of the album is the fourth track, "Intervention," which echoes the sounds of "We Shall Overcome," only with the exact opposite message. Instead of "We shall overcome someday," we're told "Every spark of friendship and love will die without a home." Ouch.

Throughout the album, lyrics like "Nothing lasts forever that's the way it's got to be," "Now who here among us still believes in choice, not I," "World War Three, when are you coming for me?" and "I don't want to work in a building downtown, no I don't want to see when the planes hit the ground," drive home the theme of hopelessness and discouragement, which, ironically, is much darker than their last album, Funeral.

Funeral was great, and I was excited for their Neon Bible release, but I was also kind of dreading it, because much-anticipated second albums usually fall flat. This one is an exception, like the Godfather Part 2 living up to, and, in many people's minds, exceeding its predecessor. I know it's early to say this, before we're even out of February, but Neon Bible is the current frontrunner for my favorite album of the year, though with expected releases from Bright Eyes, Interpol, Radiohead, and Wilco, it's going to be a fun race for me to judge.

Jackson Browne and Willie Nelson ... and a Surprise Celeb Encounter

So, we're on our way up to Universal for the concert last night, and I pull into the parking garage and fork over my $10, but I'm in one of the right-side lanes, and the entrance to the garage is on the left side, which means I have to quickly cross over about 3 lanes. As I do this, I accidentally cut off a guy driving a silver Prius. Amanda freaks out. "Ben, look, look, look, look who it is!!" I didn't see the guy driving the car, but evidently it was Adrian Grenier, better known as Vinnie Chase on Entourage. At the time, though, the only thing on my mind was fulfilling my intense need to pee, so we parked and immediately found a restroom.

As we're standing in line at Will Call to get our tickets, Amanda sees him again. Aquaman ends up standing two people behind us in the Will Call line. I took a breath, calmly turned around and said, "Hey, man, I think I cut you off in the parking lot. So, sorry about that." He goes, "That was you?" I said, "Yeah, it was me. Sorry." Then he said, "Aw, man! You're lucky this is LA." I'm still not sure what that meant. I was just glad I resisted the urge to say any of the following, potentially embarassing things:

"Let's hug it out, bitch."
"I am Queens Boulevard."
"Where's Turtle?"
"I thought you were great in 'The Devil Wears Prada'." (This would have been highly sarcastic.)

Anyway, after our brush with the B-list actor who plays an A-list actor, we headed inside, and not a moment too soon! We got to our seats just after the opening act, Native American poet John Trudell, began his, um, performance. It was mainly spoken word stuff, but he had a band who played over his poetry. It was a little weird, and kind of a downer. One of his songs was about killing children, I think. Or, probably, it was about the killing of children around the world, in war torn areas. At one point he mentioned Chechnya. Amanda wanted to make sure I wrote in my geeky little notebook that he used Chechnya in a song. We weren't huge fans.

We only had about a 15 minute or so wait until Jackson Browne took the stage. I was pretty damn excited. My only criticism is that I wish he had played for longer. Amanda wishes he would have played something she knew. I wish that, too, though I knew about half of what he played. But still, to be in the audience for a performance of someone like Jackson Browne, I was just happy to be there. And what he played sounded great.

Jackson Browne:
A Child in These Hills
Barricades of Heaven
Fountain of Sorrow
The Naked Ride Home
That Girl Could Sing
For a Dancer
Lives in the Balance
I Am a Patriot

After Jackson Browne, we had about 30 minutes before Willie came on. Amanda decided to take a nap. A woman after my own heart. The concert was actually a benefit for ovarian cancer research and awareness, which means that 100% of the net proceeds went to support the Cedars-Sinai Women's Cancer Research Institute at the Samuel Oschin Comprehensive Cancer Institute. That's a mouthful. (That's what she said. Sorry, had to.) That also meant that we got to watch a 15 minute infomercial about the Institute before Willie came on. Amanda slept through it. She didn't miss much. I sort of felt like I was going to be asked to buy a time-share or something. The best quote, from the president of the Institute, was "Tonight we are here to celebrate women! All women! And we have three great men here with us!" Um, I'm all for a Jackson Browne/Willie Nelson concert, but are you telling me they couldn't have put together, like, Emmylou Harris, Norah Jones, and Jewel, or something like that? Come on, people, a little planning!!

Anyway, Willie was awesome. It's always great to see a true legend, one of the last true country music legends still alive. I had the opportunity to see him once before, and I also had the opportunity to see James Brown a few times, and Ray Charles once. They were all at the tail end of their incredible careers, and they didn't really pack the same punch that they once did, but that doesn't really diminish the experience. That's how I feel about Willie now. He's not really what he used to be. He doesn't sing much, instead talking his way through most of the songs. He does still play a hell of a guitar though. From an observational standpoint, I was much more impressed with his guitar playing than with his singing. But he's Willie. And I'm a fan, not just an observer. And it was kick-ass. He played for what seemed like an hour, but it had to be more than that because he somehow managed to squeeze out 20 songs. I don't know if there's anything I was hoping to hear that didn't get played. When he opened with "Whiskey River," a huge (like, car-dealership huge) Texas flag unrolled behind him. I also liked that when he played "Good-Hearted Woman," he opened it with, "Let's sing one for Waylon."

Willie Nelson:
Whiskey River
Still Is Still Moving to Me
Ain't It Funny How Time Slips Away
Crazy
Nightlife
Workin Man's Blues (played and sung by guitarist Billy Payne)
Help Me Make It Through the Night
Me and Paul
Good-Hearted Woman
Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain
Blue Skies
Georgia on My Mind
All of Me
Memory of Love's Refrain
Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys
Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground
On the Road Again
Always on My Mind
Superman (new song)
You Don't Think I'm Funny Anymore (new song)

Lone Star Belt Buckles and Old Faded Levis

I had a hard time deciding between the post title I used, and its alternative, "I'm Gonna Rent Myself a House in the Shade of the Freeway." I guess if that's the hardest thing I have to do all day then I'm ok.

For my Valentine's Day present, Amanda got us tickets to see Willie Nelson and Jackson Browne (indirect namesake of the infamous "Jackson Brownes", our Pub Quiz team from back in Jackson). They're playing tonight at the Gibson Amphitheater at Universal, which is where we saw the revamped version of INXS last January. It's a great venue, there's really not a bad seat in the house. Last time we were there, we sat in the highest section, maybe 10 rows from the top, I think, and they were still great seats. This time, Amanda splurged on the good seats, though, and I couldn't be more excited. And all I got her was a lousy bracelet from Tiffany's. I definitely got the better gift.

I saw Willie once before, at Memphis in May back in 2001, along with Dave Matthews, String Cheese, and the Black Crowes. It was a pretty good day. It was also the culmination of a solid week and a half of partying and travelling over what I think was a four-state area (I know we saw Dave Matthews in Birmingham, and I think we were in New Orleans as well at some point) with my buddy Hinkle, after we finished our classes but before law school graduation. We were in Memphis for Garrett's bachelor party, and I was so tired (and drunk) from our 10 day tour, that, well, that's the night the "C-Note" nickname took hold. If you know the story, you know the story. If not, I ain't retelling it. This is a family joint.

Anyway, Willie was great, and I'm so excited to see him again, but I think I'm more excited to see Jackson Browne. The guy is just a rock legend. I mean, the man gave Bruce Springsteen his first major gig, taking him and the E Street band on tour as his opening act back in the day. If that's not pure genius, I don't know what is. He epitomizes the California rock sound, post-Beach Boys surfer music, pre-Red Hot Chili Peppers funk-rock. In fact, I think I just came up with a definitive timeframe for classic rock.

I'm sure I'll be back tomorrow to post the set lists. I have my trusty little geeky notebook to write it all down, as well as the camera to hopefully snap some good pics.

Books They All Know They're Not Worth Reading

Thoughts while wondering who I need to sleep with at VH1 to get back into that damn pop culture competition...

Probably the most exciting news I got all day is that Wilco has released the tracklist for their upcoming album "Sky Blue Sky." It comes out on May 15, which seems to be timed perfectly with our cross-country drive. Whoever ends up riding in the car with me is going to be pretty damn sick of that album by the time we hit New Mexico, I think.

The most exciting news I got two days ago is that Amanda got us tickets to see Willie Nelson and the rock legend that is Jackson Browne next Thursday. I saw Willie do a short set at Memphis in May back in 2001, but damn, Jackson Browne? I didn't know he was even on tour, but I don't know if I could be more excited to see a concert of anybody that I haven't yet seen other than him. Maybe the Rolling Stones. But he's definitely up there, big time.

Ghost Rider opens today. I'd say that looks like it has "Worst Movie of 2007" locked up, but I guess you never know, what with Norbit and the soon-to-be-released Wild Hogs. I've still got my money on Ghost Rider, though. Come on. He's a normal motorcycle rider by day and turns into a firey-headed crime fighter at night? I know I've made this joke before (maybe not here though), but wouldn't a better curse have been if he were a normal motorcycle rider by day and had to turn into Nicholas Cage at night?

I can understand why the ratings for this week's Lost were at an all-time low for the show, but all that means is that so many more people missed what was probably one of the best 3 episodes in the show's run to date. Hopefully it'll get people talking and their numbers will come up a bit next week.

I feel like I'm turning into Peter King here. Might be time to get up out of here.

WSOPC: Day Two

We didn't make it. Got the call at 7:30. Interestingly enough, they told us they would be making calls between 7:30 and 10:00, which makes me think we were probably the first on their list of rejects.

Anyway, at least we had a fun weekend in Austin.

WSOPC: Day One

Well, day one started off pretty well. Micah and I slept until about 11, and then Jenn drove us to meet up with Leah. First thing on our agenda was lunch at Texadelphia. Mmmmm, good. Leah and I split a cheesesteak and a turkey sandwich, which even after all these years since I've been there, is stil the best thing on the menu. After that we hit the Co-op for 30 minutes of drooling over all of the burnt orange. I was able to excercise a modicum of self-restraint, buying only a shirt for Amanda and a pair of gym shorts for myself. I could easily spend my paycheck in there.

Sarah (who Leah is staying with) got out of school at 3:00, so we picked her up and she drove us downtown for some coffee before our 5:00 appointment. Which was awesome. I can't go into too many specifics, but this is basically what happened: We (along with about 35 other teams) filed into a room and took a 50 question test, which after 15 minutes the VH1 people took our answers into another room and graded them. They came back after about 10 minutes and announced that of the 36 teams, only three teams passed the test. At that point we kind of shrugged and thought "Well, at least we tried, now at least we've got a fun weekend in Austin ahead of us." They called out the names of the first two teams that passed the test.

Then they called ours. We were so excited! Leah screamed so loud and we jumped up and hi-fived and headed out into the lobby with the other two teams to wait for our interviews. They took us first for the interviews, which is good because that was before the excitement and shock really set in. We think our interviews went really well, but I probably can't get into specifics on that either. They're going to call us tonight to let us know whether or not we get to come back in tomorrow for the competition.

We went out for a celebratory cocktail (or two or ten), and what better way to do that than Mexican Martinis at Trudy's? Then to dinner at Guero's (awesome Tex-Mex - first time eating there). Adam picked me up there and we went to The Parlor to see his girlfriend's band play. I was expecting something Pixies-influenced, for some reason. They were more like The Clash mixed with Poison. Enjoyable, though. Very enjoyable.

Today we're getting ready to head over to campus for lunch, then to the Horns game. We're playing Iowa State. I'm pretty freaking excited to see Kevin Durant play. The kid can ball, no doubt about it.

I'll try to check in later on and report back about the Phone Call tonight. Also, after I get back to LA, I'm going to try to get some pictures posted.

WSOPC: Prelude

It's Thursday night, and I just landed in Austin. I'm here with Leah and Micah Hart, and we're trying out for VH1's World Series of Pop Culture. For those of you who have no idea what that is, the WSOPC is a pop-culture trivia game show, on the aforementioned VH1. The first "season" aired last summer, and I was not only floored by how easy the questions were, but that I didn't have the foresight to try out, even though I knew about the tryouts well in advance and they held tryouts in Los Angeles.

This year, we didn't make that mistake. We decided back in December that we were going to form a team (teams are made up of three people) and see what we could do. At worst, we have a fun time together. At best, we win this competition (and $250,000). Our team name is "Ski Mississippi."

I was hoping they would come to LA the weekend of the LA tryouts, but Micah couldn't get out of Atlanta that weekend, so we decided to come to Austin. We had to submit an online application and fill out a short questionnaire, and we were in. Our appointment is at 5:00 tomorrow afternoon at a hotel in downtown Austin. We will each take a timed, written pop-culture test, and if we pass, we'll move immediately into interviews with their casting people. After testing/interviewing teams (I have NO idea how many teams are here) all day Friday and Saturday, they will call back eight teams on Saturday night to come back on Sunday and compete in the regional qualifier. The winner automatically advances to the finals, to be taped in New York in March.

I've been training pretty hard for the past few weeks, and by "training" I mean watching a lot of TV, reading a lot, and listening to a lot of music. So, basically, I've been doing next to nothing out of the ordinary for the past few weeks. I have been reading the game cards from Scene It and the Saturday Night Live edition of Trivial Pursuit, though, so I guess that counts. Anyway, we're here and we think we have a pretty good shot, because not too many people know as much worthless crap as we do.

I'll try to check in and post a few times over the course of the weekend, while the experience is fresh. Wish us luck.

Bob Dylan Probably Also Wrote the Bible

This is just too damn funny not to post.

The Biggest Douchebag Ever

Slightly edging out Karl Rove and the guy who lives next door to me (I swear if you bang on the wall again, I'm going to put you through it - I do NOT slam the door!!), Barry Bonds has done more in recent years to cement his legacy as a douchebag than anyone I can think of. I went to a San Francisco Giants game at Dodger Stadium last summer for the sole purpose of booing him as loudly as I could, and hoping to start up a "Barry Sucks!" chant (and, b/c I was offered a free ticket), but he didn't play. Though that is not the reason I consider him a douchebag.

Barry Bonds might have gone down in history as one of the greatest hitters ever to play the game. He might have been in the top 10 in home runs hit, and he might have been remembered as an 8-time Gold Glove winner, 7-time MVP, and 13-time All-Star. A clearer path to Cooperstown could not be imagined. But none of that was good enough, so he decided the physical size of his head should more closely resemble the size of his ego (See photo at right - that thing's got it's own gravitational pull. HEED! PAPER, NOW!!).

Instead, he will be remembered as a douchebag. A stain on the National Pasttime. A liar, a cheater, and a miserable, miserable human being. If I were Bud Selig (who's a decent douchebag in his own right), I would see to it that Barry Bonds were banned from Major League Baseball, and I would remove his statistics since the 1998 season (when steroid dealer Greg Anderson became his trainer) from all record books.

Other than all of those other reasons I think Bonds is a stain, a liar, a cheater, and a miserable human being - and a douchebag - I just added another one to the list. HE'S A DOUCHEBAG. Ok, to be fair, that's not really a reason, but I have new support for my opinion. According to the Associated Press, Bonds failed a test for amphetamines in 2006, and when he learned of the test results, he blamed it on something he took from teammate Mark Sweeney's locker.

HE BLAMED HIS POSITIVE TEST FOR AMPHETAMINES ON SOMETHING HE TOOK FROM A TEAMMATE'S LOCKER.

Is there a bigger douchebag thing to do? Maybe if he then went over to Sweeney's house and took a dump in the middle of his living room, but short of that, I'm not sure there is. The thing that jumps right out at me, and I can't believe I haven't seen this angle in any of the articles I've read on the subject today, is this: If he took it from Mark Sweeney's locker, he is implying one of two things. Either he asked Mark Sweeney for amphetamines (which proves his intent to take amphetamines), or he stole something from his teammate. Now, let's assume he didn't ask Mark Sweeney for amphetamines. We're left with Barry Bonds: Thief. He either stole the drugs from Sweeney's locker thinking they were something completely legal and legitimate (in which case - WHY STEAL THEM??), or he stole them knowing they were illegal and not legitimate (in which case - YOU'RE A DOUCHEBAG!!).

I don't understand why the San Fransisco Giants and Major League Baseball, and fans of both institutions, are willing to put up with this kind of behavior and utter contempt for the high regard most of us still have for the game of baseball. If Keyshawn Johnson and Terrell Owens can get sent home for the remainder of a football season for merely being hard to deal with, yet breaking no laws or league rules, then Barry needs to go. If for no other reason than we do not need douchebags like him continuing to ruin baseball.

I've just used the word douchebag 10 times (11, if you count this sentence), and I don't feel that I've even come close to expressing how much I hate that Barry Bonds is still a part of baseball and society in general.

Jan. 12 Update - Bonds now claims he did not take anything from Mark Sweeney's locker. This is just another reason he's a douchebag - ruining a perfectly good blog post about what a douchebag he is, only one day after it is written.

Sun, Sun, Sun

The sun is shining a little brighter today. Amanda got back yesterday after three and a half weeks in Israel, and it was not a moment too soon. I mean that not in the "I missed her like hell" sense (which I did), but more in the "I was approaching the point of forgetting to put on socks in the morning" sense. Something happens when she goes away for more than a day or two, where the part of me that is marginally responsible decides to close up shop and go off the grid for awhile.

Anyway, in honor of her return, here are some sun songs to go listen to.

Good Day, Sunshine - The Beatles
Sun, Sun, Sun - The Elected
Sun Comes Up, It's Tuesday Morning - Cowboy Junkies
Sunshine of Your Love - Cream
House of the Rising Sun - The Animals
Staring at the Sun - U2
Sun Is Shining - Bob Marley
Walking on Sunshine - Katrina and the Waves (not Martika, as some people think)

Welcome home, Sunshine.