Do you think, after such sports-related injuries as tennis elbow, runner's knee and PlayStation thumb making their way into medical parlance, we will soon be talking about people suffering from selectors' headache?
If so, Geoff Miller and his cohorts must have been fighting over the Paracetamol yesterday, when they met to decide upon a final 13-man squad for the first Ashes Test against Australia (here it is, by the way). They probably weren't helped by the utterly insane run chase undertaken by Peter Trego and Somerset. Even though the 13-man squad can be changed for future matches, it can't have been an easy decision.
It can't have been easy, for example, to leave Steve Harmison out of the side. He bowled superbly for the England Lions in Australia's warm-up game, hurrying the batsmen with his pace and bounce and exposing some real flaws in the famously unorthodox technique of opener Phillip Hughes, dismissing him twice for seven and eight respectively. He bowled brilliantly, just as we all knew he could, but in the effective shootout between Harmison and Durham team mate Graham Onions, who also bowled well, Onions got the nod.
Ricky Ponting spoke out against Harmison's omission, but perhaps oversold him a touch. "He bowls at over 90mph," said Ponting, "and with his height, it's a pretty handy package." The thing is, though, Harmison doesn't bowl at over 90mph - not any more. And when he's not at his best, he's at risk of looking tame.
The 13-man squad is, as Aggers has smartly noticed, a balanced one, with flexibility allowing different selections depending on the conditions. If it's overcast, Onions will take the ball alongside Broad, Flintoff and Jimmy Anderson, with Graeme Swann likely to be the lone spinner, but given Sophia Gardens' - sorry, the Swalec Stadium's - aptitude for spin, it's likely that England will field two spinners, and in the thankful absence of the not-yet-ready Adil Rashid, they will be Swann and Panesar.
The question, of course, is whether Panesar has the nouse to spin out Australia's batsmen. He hasn't developed as well as we would have hoped in the last couple of years, and still sends down stock delivery after stock delivery, like some sort of gravy salesman. Until he learns the importance of variation, he's not going to pose the sort of threat he should.
Australia have a much bigger problem. Their only specialist spinner, Nathan Hauritz, has been very out of touch, and it looks increasingly possible they won't even pick him for the Swalec Stadium Test.
This is surely unthinkable.
The pitch won't just take spin - it will positively demand it. It's no coincidence Glamorgan were fined two points for a "poor" pitch that took too much turn (which naturally didn't help the controversy over the pitch's selection for the first Test). Quite simply, Australia need a specialist spinner, and Hauritz is the only one they have. Michael Clarke and Marcus North are both good quality part-time spinners, but they won't be bowling to take wickets, and I certainly can't see them taking five-fors.
They have to pick Hauritz despite his downturn in form. That's all they can do. Australia's dearth of spinners is good news for England though, especially with the rejuvenated Swann - who, by the way, I have been backing for an international call-up for at least ten years - being the leading Test wicket taker this year. It's enough to make you think Glamorgan's spinfest was picked for reasons other than money.
So, then, The Observer. National institution or financial dead duck? Ongoing liberal tradition or failing piece of press history? Last hope for decent Sunday newspapers or... well, you get the picture.
The problem is that many people don't. The news - or more appropriately, rumours - that Guardian-owned Sunday staple The Observer may be set to close has been greeted by cries of indignant outrage from the left and centre and cries of ugly derision from the right (i.e. almost every other newspaper).
No surprise there, perhaps, and it's good to see people coming out in force to condemn the proposed closure, oppose the Guardian Media Group's pessimistic murmurings and in some cases, call the whole thing a fascist coup. I'm one of them. I've joined a Facebook group and everything. AND I'm following 'savetheobserver' on Twitter. GMG, feel my web 2.0 wrath.
However, I feel the need to tar the rose-tinted Observer portrait with the brush of realism and bad metaphors. There's no smoke without fire, and in this case the fire is coming from an almost ritualistic burning of money from people bowing to a false idol of unerring tradition.
The Observer has not turned a profit in 16 years, ever since the Guardian bought it in 1993. Let's think about that. No profit in 16 years. And it's thought to have lost £10-£20 million every year in recent times. The Telegraph's business section has some more depressing statistics, although I must add that I don't condone the irrelevant comparison of the newspaper's losses with Guardian editor Alan Rusbridger's salary increase.
On Newsnight a former editor of The Observer, Donald Trelford, said the Sunday newspaper is being made scapegoat for The Guardian's losses. I don't agree. Once again, it hasn't made a profit in 16 years, and it's allegedly losing a million pounds a month.
Now I'm not a Godforsaken pennypincher, and I believe in political ideals ahead of profitable business, but can the GMG really afford for this to continue, and now of all times?
It's time, as ever, for a disclaimer.
I am a Guardian reader and an Observer reader. I detest almost every other newspaper from the Sun to the Mail - especially the Mail - for being irresponsible, reactionary and just a little bit racist. You may have noticed that my news links above took you to a story in the Times and the Torygraph, but only because, in spite of everything, they are at least trustworthy newspapers for getting their facts right. I just don't agree with anything they say, that's all.
So when I say we have to be realistic about The Observer, that doesn't mean I want it to die. I simply recognise that there may be no alternative.
But could it find some other way of saving money? Both The Guardian and The Observer have more staff each than the Chinese when they were building their Great Wall. If you were to walk past everyone who worked for these papers, you'd never reach the last one. There's just too many of them. The wage bill must be absolutely epic.
I don't want people working for The Big G or The Big O(we) to lose their jobs, though, partly because I know some of them. So could The Observer be smaller? It's a weekly so it's huge, naturally, but it could probably halve its page count before it had to halve its staff (uh, the number of staff, that is - I'm not suggesting it literally cuts its staff in half, despite the pleasant rhyming).
But if none of these cost-cutting measures are possible, what should the GMG do?
Shoot me for saying this but in times of dire need for a balanced world view, The Guardian must take precedence over The Observer.
The Tories are almost certain to win the next General Election (God help the delusioned sinners that vote for them), and we need The Guardian at its strongest to repel every right-wing newspaper out there. It's the guardian of liberal thinking and good journalism; it is not guardian of The Observer. And it can't afford to keep losing money.
Yes, I'm a bastard. But I do recognise The Observer's proud reputation and prouder history, which is why I think the proposal for it to become a midweek magazine is almost insulting. THAT would be the death of it. It's a 200-year-old newspaper, for goodness' sake. When World War One veterans are on their deathbed, do you cake them in gaudy make-up and call them Ruby? No. You let them die with dignity. I'd rather see The Observer close than see it become a midweek mag.
But just to make things clear, I don't want The Observer to close. If alternatives are lacking, however, we can't let blind brand loyalty get in the way of responsibility. Because if The Observer continues to print and continues to lose money, it could just bring The Guardian down with it.
Another two weeks have passed since my last post... dang, time is flying by. My first big race of the year, Oceanside 70.3, is this Saturday. I'm ready to have a good day... I've put a lot of work in... certainly more cycling than I've ever done along with a good amount of running. Hopefully, those miles will serve me well.
Last week I was in New York City on a business trip. I was fortunate enough to stay in midtown, only about 1/2 mile from Central Park. So, I availed myself of the opportunity to run the outer loop. It's a perfect 10K circuit, very scenic and quite rolling. It's a beautiful place to run, the juxtaposition of the hills and trees with the skyscrapers in the background is quite striking, especially in the early morning light.
Here are some pics from one of the days I was out there. That's it for now... I'll have a lot to report after this weekend.
Tonight, I made it to my first "track" workout in about 6 weeks. The word "track" is in quotations because our local group doesn't do our speed workouts on a track at the moment, we run on a paved bike path since the local high school track is being renovated. With some luck, it will be done by the fall and we will have a nice new oval to run around.
The workouts are on Tuesday nights, and the last several Tuesdays I've been hung up elsewhere. Either working late, or in Phoenix for work, or in Tucson... or in Orange County... seems like something keeps coming up.
Tonight's workout was 6 x 800 w/1:30 rest. I had to go back all the way to October to find out the last time I did some repeat 800's, so I thought it would be interesting to compare the two workouts and see what improvement I've made after a long winter of hard training.
October 21 - 6 x 800 w/2 min rest
2:48 2:45 2:44 2:43 2:44 2:46
average time 2:45
March 17 - 6 x 800 w/1:30 rest
2:38.5 2:37.3 2:36.5 2:39.5 2:41.2 2:36.7
average time 2:38.3
I started tonight's workout with a little fatigue in the legs as I did a hard trainer 60 min workout earlier in the day. It's hard to predict what effect that might have had, but I think it's reasonable to assume I probably would have run a second or two faster if it was the only workout of the day. Also, the rest interval was a bit shorter. My HR only came down to the low 120's between reps.
All in all, the times show a 6.7 second improvement, which is equates to 4%. It doesn't sound like much, but a 4% improvement in a half marathon is roughly 3 minutes... in other words, huge.
I'm encouraged by this. Hopefully, I can put the pieces together come April 4th.
Well, it's happened: Corpus Christi Oxford have been stripped of their University Challenge title for fielding an ileligible contestant. Much has been said of Gail Trimble's consistently astounding performances for the team (except the final, when she was a bit shit until the last 10 minutes), and how much of a letdown it must be for her, but I feel sorry for everyone involved. And yes, I do think stripping them of the title is a mistake.
For a start, naughty boy Sam Kay was a student when the tournament began, only being ineligible for the final three matches of the competition. Clearly it's unfair that the team fielded a non-student, but I don't think Corpus Christi were at any great advantage - Kay was working as a graduate trainee for PricewaterhouseCoopers, not Stephen Fry's personal biographer. Or something. He was a student when he began - that should be enough. It's just not fair for the rest of the team to lose their title because of what is essentially a technicality.
And yes, I do believe it is a technicality. Gail Trimble is 26. Mature students are positively encouraged to participate. What, then, does it matter if a contestant has ceased to be a student some way during the competition? Clearly I'm not saying anyone should be allowed to enter and we should turn a blind eye to non-students representing a university, but in such a circumstance as this, I think common sense should prevail.
Secondly, he thought he was eligble. He didn't deliberately cheat; he made a mistake that really did nobody any harm.
And most importantly of all, Manchester University - the runners-up who have now been awarded the title - didn't even want it to be this way. They are sensible enough to realise the situation for what it is. In Manchester team captain Matthew Yeo's words, the Corpus Christi side were "deserving and worthy champions". He added: "We hope any decision does not detract from what was a thrilling final won by a truly tremendous team." Well said.
An ineligible player doesn't make the whole competition a farce - giving away the title does. And this decision won't help Manchester one bit, either. A student there - 22-year-old Cori Bromfeld - told the BBC that "to win in this way does take away some of the achievement. People in the future will say that we only won because the other team cheated." Exactly - whereas now, they'll be remembered as brave finalists who lost to an incredible team (and were 70-0 up at one point). OK, so it's more likely they won't be remembered much at all, but in University Challenge circles at least, they'd have a better reputation without the title.
But it is Corpus Christi who have ultimately lost out. A shame. Maybe Gail Trimble might take up that Nuts photo opportunity after all.
(In other news, the world plunges deeper into economic armageddon. Ah well.)
As part of the Concept2 Challenge Series (info located here), I completed a 1 mile (1609m) time trial on the erg. To analyse my technique, I filmed the effort. While the mile is not a standard set piece, the folks at Concept2 UK have a penchant for coming up with unusual challenges to keep things interesting and fun.
A mile on the erg is essentially an extended sprint. While slightly shorter than the dreaded 2K competed at the Olympic level, rest assured a lot of pain is involved when rowing at nearly 100% for 5-6 minutes. Interestingly, the highly lactic acid levels ever recorded by exercise physiologists have been on rowers after a 2K, so it's pretty clear that the misery index is high.
My goal for the 1 mile was 5:30, an average pace of 1:42.5/500m. For power junkies, that is equivalent to 325 watts.
I know Fabio Capello is a clever, clever man, but I'm not sure this is the mark of a strong leader.
And by that I mean Capello, not Terry. We all know about the Chelsea cheater's indiscretions, and the debate over whether he should be stripped as captain. It's not an unreasonable argument: dressing room harmony is so important in the build-up to a World Cup, and acting like you're on Hollyoaks doesn't help things.
Personally, I'm amused that Terry's target was the partner of Wayne Bridge, of all people - one Vanessa Perroncel. In terms of fame, she's not exactly Victoria Beckham or Cheryl Cole, is she? It smacks of bullying to me, as if Terry is the loudmouth jock in an American teen film, boasting he can lay the geek's girlfriend at the drop of a thong.
Also, the concerns over a void at left-back if Cole is injured and Bridge resigns shouldn't be too hyped. It'll give the talented Stephen Warnock a chance.
But back to the Telegraph article: should it be left up to Wayne Bridge, the man so wronged in this affair, to decide whether Terry should be dropped as captain? Bridge, a man whose own place in the starting XI is totally reliant on Ashley Cole's fitness? Bridge, a man who is easily one of the least integral members of the squad? Asking the ex-team mate to decide his captain's fate is arguably fairest, but it doesn't seem the most professional of moves by Capello. You need to take charge and be firm.
The Telegraph suggests that for better or worse, the final word will rest with Bridge. If Terry wants to keep that armband, he'd better hope his team mate decides it's water under the Bridge.
Five men have been cleared of raping a woman after it emerged she had spoken online about group sex fantasies.
But was she raped?
The 24-year-old from Liverpool claimed she was raped after visiting one of the men at his home in Bolton, after making contact on the internet.
But the trial at Preston Crown Court collapsed when computer evidence was produced showing her entertaining the prospect of group sex.
But was she raped?
Judge Robert Brown ordered the jury to return not guilty verdicts.
Why? Because she had group sex fantasies? I don't know the ins and outs of the case (sorry) but I know group sex fantasies aren't rape fantasies. Was she raped?
[Prosecutor Michael Leeming] formally offered no evidence after reading excerpts of MSN chatlogs of her conversations before the alleged offence.
He said: "It is right to say that there is material in the chatlogs from the complainant, who is prepared to entertain ideas of group sex with strangers, where to use her words 'her morals go out of the window'."
Right, OK. Although that's not to say what other people's morals might be, out of the window or otherwise. It's not a case of matching morals here - rape is still immoral, even if the victim is too. So it still matters: was she raped?
The woman said she had agreed to visit Mr Owolabi after meeting him on MSN.
She alleged she wanted to just have sex with him, but was then raped by the others.
Judge Brown told the jury: "This case depended on the complainant's credibility.
"Not to put too fine a point on it, her credibility was shot to pieces."
Fine. Credibility is important in an accusation. But what about evidence? The prosecutor decided "it would not be appropriate to offer any evidence" after the revelation of his client's desire for group sex.
The law of innocent until proven guilty means the right decision has been made in light of evidence not being presented. But if the only reason it was not presented was because the prosecutor knew his client had slim chance of winning the case due to her reputation being in doubt, this is deeply worrying. I just hope he knows something we don't (i.e. that the alleged victim is lying); otherwise, a victim's quest for justice has failed purely because of incredibly flimsy non-evidence.
Because it doesn't matter if she'd entertained group sex fantasies or even rape fantasies before the alleged incident. All that matters is -
After his decision to 'go straight' with Regeneration, it was with open arms that I welcomed the real Neil Hannon back to the stage. He's complained before that Regeneration is an underrated album, but it's completely the other way round. Fans love it. Critics love it. And it's fucking awful.
I agree the overblown scores and comedy sound effects of Fin de Siècle et al undermine Hannon's brilliant, clever, gently comic lyrics, but Regeneration made the music boring and the lyrics worse. There's a song in which he lists things he's lost. The whole album's neither funny nor deep. It's horrific.
The superb Absent Friends, then, made me breathe such a sigh of relief I blew away a small child.
But the thing to remember about Neil Hannon as a lyricist is that he's actually bloody miserable. Tell anyone you're a Divine Comedy fan and they sing National Express at you (it's really annoying); they don't know he's made nine albums, each more depressing than the last.
And in Absent Friends, he found the music to fit the words. To fully express every minutiae of sadness in its core, a full orchestra with string-led melodies are used to perfection, although Hannon still lacked the confidence to really pull off his massive orchestral gigs at the Royal Albert Hall and the Palladium (though the second half and encore of the latter is excellent).
But in Absent Friends, it's a perfect fit - chamber pop at its very best. Case in point: Sticks And Stones, with its stabbing cello and sweeping violins. The song absolutely soars. It's also hard to dislike a song that begins, "You and I go together like the molar and the drill." The title track is another cracker, uplifting and melancholy at the same time.
Hannon knows when to show restraint with his instruments, though: My Imaginary Friend is a quiet, friendly, banjo-led ditty very much in the middle of the road, but it's so utterly lovely you'd be a bastard to hate it.
The same goes for album closer Charmed Life, which, being a sugary sweet tribute to his young daughter, should by all rights be awful. But it's not. So there.
Let's not go around thinking this is happy happy fun times though. Leaving Today, about leaving his family behind, is a heartbreaker of pure misery. Musically, it's no less than haunting. Lyrically: "So suddenly awake," it begins. "No light through yonder window breaks. No crowing cock; just my old clock... "
Our Mutual Friend - definite emphasis on friends in this album - is the true standout, however. Listen to it. From the opening confession, "No matter how I try I just can't get her out of my mind" to its shattering conclusion (via the lovely throwaway line, "I woke up the next day all alone but for a headache), it involves you completely, and every individual line is perfect. The scene is so beautifully set, it's impossible not to feel for the speaker when it closes.
Sad, observant and wryly comic, Absent Friends is the album to give Divine Comedy fans hope. Can't wait for the new album.
Sorry, that was a terrible review of a wonderful record. Please listen to at least a bit of it. Merry Christmas! I'll be back with #6 on Boxing Day. Until then, here's a present, made around the release of this album:
As Kermit once said (almost), it's not easy being a Primal Scream fan. You have to deal with their delving into any genre they think is profitable at the time. You have to accept that Bobby Gillespie can be a dick at times.
But most dishearteningly, you have to put up with, and stick up for, them spending most of their time being unutterably shit.
There's been a lot of twaddle in Primal Scream's career, it's true. Fortunately, they also happen to have made two phenomenally good albums, ten years apart, in Screamadelica and XTRMNTR. The bizarre thing is they couldn't be any more different.
I have this theory Primal Scream have never actually written a song; only albums. Every record has a distinct sound - acid jazz; MOR pop; Southern rock - but the lyrics are always, always meaningless. So, then: Screamadelica is the soundtrack to a stoner's summer. And XTRMTR begins with a song called Kill All Hippies. It's their 'loud' album. And it's pretty aggressive. Exterminator, Shoot Speed/Kill Light, MBV Arkestra (If They Move, Kill 'em)... Come Together this ain't.
But what an album it is. It's easily the heaviest record they, or indeed most bands, have made, but it retains its quality without descending into complete anarchy. Accelerator, for example: loud and distortion-packed, but still a damn good tune.
The acid jazz of Screamadelica and Vanishing Point is still present: there's some fantastic brass on Insect Royalty and Blood Money, a sort of homage to Radiohead's just as - fine, more than - excellent National Anthem but born nine months earlier.
XTRMNTR is heavy on the production, but rightly so. MBV Arkestra (If They Move, Kill 'em) is, as you can probably guess, essentially an extended reworking of Vanishing Point's best track If They Move, Kill 'em, but it somehow manages to surpass the brilliant original. It's an incredible genre-fusing opus that creates an immense wall of sound then descends into... just... noise. Lovely, lovely noise.
Together with the superb Kill All Hippies, Swastika Eyes is the strongest track - Jagz Kooner's mix, that is (I'm unsure about having the same song remixed twice, but I suppose it's not unlike having a reprise, as many artists do). It's a top song benefiting from a top mix. The second reworking by good Scream friends The Chemical Brothers - after collaborating the previous year on the mighty Chems' Surrender - is a cracker too, though, and almost as worthy as Kooner's superlative effort.
But sod Kooner and everyone's good friends Tom and Ed. This album is Primal Scream's victory. We can only hope that in years to come, people will remember this record and Screamadelica - and forget almost everything else they made.
The first and possibly only band to feature on this list twice, the Kings Of Leon have done it with two very different albums. The first, Youth & Young Manhood (#23), was a belter of a debut steeped in razor-edged blues. This, their third album, was a more mainstream effort that edged them towards stardom - before Sex On Fire did the rest.
The difference between Because Of The Times and Only By The Night is simple and hopefully obvious: the former is a cracking album.
To open with a meandering seven-minuter in Knocked Up is brave but pulled off superbly. Brooding and understated, it's oddly anthemic, and somehow succeeds in making the refrain, "I don't care what nobody says - I'm going to be her lover" as pathetic as it is winsomely defiant.
Charmer shows off those aforementioned vocal talents to extraordinary effect, as does turn-it-up-until-it's-quite-antisocial thumper Black Thumbnail, easily one of my favourite rock songs of recent years. I can't get enough of it.
From start to finish it's an album of classics, thanks to sound lyrics, lyrical sounds and a fantastic mix of fun throwaway tunes (Camaro; My Party) and serious gloomers (Arizona; McFearless). They even get away with writing a song to their fans (Fans, if you hadn't guessed) because it actually sounds heartfelt. And with an uplifting chorus, attacking drums and a bassline to make you air pick, it's one of their best singles yet.
It's sad, but almost certainly true: the Kings Of Leon will probably never make a better album than this.
After a mismatched first album from this Jack White/Brendan Benson lovemaking session, I thought this was a project gone wrong - a tiresome whim annoyingly taking songwriting time out of Jack's White Stripes commitments.
Then this came along and, not to put too fine a point on it, how wrong I was.
Consolers Of The Lonely is an astonishing roughtooth gem of an album, harking back to the sounds of Zeppelin et al but with an even older quality to it. Recorded in double-quick time then rushed out with absolutely no promotion for release a few weeks later (apparently the band liked the idea of people finding it on the shelves and wondering if it had always been there) it should have been an even bigger disaster than the first album.
(Actually, I'm being a bit harsh on Broken Boy Soldiers: it's all right, really.)
But Consolers Of The Lonely is much better than all right, and much better than the mixed reviews it received. Each one agreed the album was chaotic; not all agreed this was a good thing.
It definitely is in my book. The frantic pace of lead single Salute Your Solution gets the adrenaline running, and epic closer Carolina Drama is an incredible effort that thrives on the chaos of the record (no one knows how the story ends, admits White in the song). An account of violence and greed in, well, Carolina, it rattles along thanks to superb fiddling and anguished vocals and by the end seems to struggle to contain itself. As the orchestral mayhem rises, the song breaks free and breaks down into a joyful, anarchic nonsense refrain of "La la la"s, helping the album to reach a perfectly imperfect zenith - beautiful chaos.
It's not even the best song on the album, and neither is Salute Your Solution. Even the title track, with its sublime changes of pace and White and Benson swapping vocals so smoothly it takes a while to notice, doesn't win the honour. No, it's Top Yourself - not about suicide; about bettering oneself - with its amazing blues sound, all slide guitar, banjo and bitter, spitting lyrics, that most deserves listen after listen after listen.
I don't know what's going to become of The Raconteurs, but I really hope they make an album as enjoyable as this one. Shit, I didn't even mention You Don't Understand Me and its wonderful piano. Ah, just listen to it.
No, after yesterday's noise and bluster - not from Wolfmother; from people criticising my choices - it's time for something a bit quieter (but probably no less offensive).
Riot On An Empty Street - Kings Of Convenience [2004]
Norwegian nerds Kings Of Convenience are a wonderful oasis of calm in a stressful, shouty world. All gentle acoustic guitar and vocal harmonies, they receive a lot - a LOT - of comparisons to Simon & Garfunkel and with some justification, but with their interest in dance music as well as indie folk (best buds with compatriots Röyksopp, dontchaknow) they have more strings to their... guitar.
Riot On An Empty Street sees Kings Of Convenience at their best, even if their most famous song (and admittedly one of their best) Toxic Girl will be found on their debut release, Quiet Is The New Loud. This, their second album, is understated, lyrically superb and wonderfully melodic - if you don't believe me, try the Spotify link (with the previously missing #20 and #21 also there).
Although plugged-in jumpers Love Is No Big Truth and I'd Rather Dance With You (featuring the winning line, "I'll make you laugh by acting like the guy who sings") do stand out, it's naturally the slower tracks that really impress. Gold In The Air Of Summer is a luscious ballad and so is Surprise Ice, while aptly titled closing track The Build Up, featuring gorgeous vocals from Canadian singer Feist, is just excellent - no less.
String-led Stay Out Of Trouble is another cracker, but the album's highlight for me is Sorry Or Please, a heartfelt tale about prison redemption and the possible end of a relationship. Its nervous see-sawing between being fearful and being hopeful - "Your increasingly long embraces: are they saying sorry or please?" - is wondrous in its emotion, as lush strings add further tension.
There's a very sweet shyness in the album's lyrics (again, evident in Toxic Girl) that adds to the general loveliness of it all:
Even if I could hear what you said I doubt my reply would be interesting for you to hear
Bless, you just want to cuddle them. It's like listening to the quiet kid at the party and finding he's actually really interesting and that smell isn't him at all, it's the food.
Riot On An Empty Street is intelligent, soulful and tender, as well as being the best album for relaxation you'll ever hear. And having just watched The Thick Of It, I think we need it.
Spotify link: #19. Riot On An Empty Street - Kings Of Convenience
This list is fast becoming an explanation of the learning process in music; how so many albums grew on me after I'd initially dismissed them. After narrowly choosing Gorillaz over Demon Days and learning to love I Am A Bird Now, we once again have an album that only found its way onto my list in recent weeks.
I've always sworn against the critics, friends and Eels fans who said Shootenanny! is a sly masterpiece, and sided with its highly underrated predecessor, Souljacker. There was no grand reason behind it; I just thought Souljacker, with its ace slogan 'YOU LITTLE PUNKS THINK YOU OWN THIS TOWN' on the cover, was a better collection of songs, thanks to such superb efforts as Bus Stop Boxer, Dog-Faced Boy and Jungle Telegraph.
But in giving both albums another listen when compiling this list (see, I do research and stuff!), I realised - once again - that I was wrong. Again. I'm always wrong, it seems, but at least in this case I have company. Fans and critics alike may love Shootenanny! but they don't appear to have listened to it properly.
Shootenanny! is described, from Amazon to the mouths of groupies, as E's 'happy' album, 'celebrating the joys of life' (no, really). I recall one review even said Eels had completely 'dropped the misery' that so defines them for one album.
This is bollocks. If these phrases were describing 2005's more optimisic follow-up Blinking Lights And Other Revelations they could almost work, but Shootenanny! is far from joyful - and that, by the way, is why it's so good.
With song titles including Agony, Rock Hard Times and Restraining Order Blues it's never going to be an easy ride emotionally, but that's what you get with Eels. Agony, in particular, is a heartbreaking piece of, well, agony that perfectly befits its jagged guitars and stabbing drums.
Most tracks are more obviously pleasant musically, but it's still tough stuff: Love Of The Loveless, an aching alternative anthem so subtly cynical E can only wearily murmur the chorus, is probably the most famous song thanks to The O.C. and it gives a good idea of the record's hurt.
What these happy-clappy easygoing critics probably mean to say is that, musically, E took a more middle-of-the-road approach to Shootenanny!. I'm still not sure I agree - every Eels album, even misery-fest Electro-Shock Blues, has had its mainstream singles - but there are, admittedly, more radio-friendly songs on this album.
Again, though, this is providing you don't delve deeper into the lyrics when twiddling those dials. Fashion Awards comes across as a light and lovely ballad until you hit, "We'll blow off our heads in despair" in the chorus (yes, it's ironic, but still). Rock Hard Times is pure bubblegum pop, except it features the words, "It's hard to laugh as you choke / Hope you like the rotten stench of doom." The music may be more upbeat at times but the words sure as hell aren't. You could list examples of the album's depressing lyrics until the cows come home and Anthrax themselves (one for the Izzard fans), but it still wouldn't convey the overwhelming misery of the record.
And it's fantastic. From the opening trio of quality tunes (All In A Day's Work, Saturday Morning, The Good Old Days - all excellent) to the semi-optimistic pay-off Somebody Loves You, via should-be indie classics such as Lone Wolf (wonderful song), Shootenanny! is a winner. I was wrong - again.
But, y'know, Souljacker's good too...
No Spotify link today, I’m afraid, nor tomorrow. Circumstances are beyond my control. Spotify links to #21 and #20 will come with #20 on Saturday.
I think it's fair to say Antony & The Johnsons are a band destined to split opinion: like Marmite and Manchester United, you either love them or hate them. And from hearing them for the first time up until fairly recently, I hated them.
Well, hated may be a strong word but I was certainly annoyed at all the hype. This appeared to be a band driving their USP - Antony Hegarty's unbelievably beautiful/unbelievably stupid (the clincher that divides opinion) voice - so firmly you were forced to wonder if they had anything else to recommend them.
Initially, I Am A Bird confirmed this for me. The deliberately sparse instrumentation placed too much emphasis on Hegarty's vocals, like an expensive table being placed in the middle of a scarcely-furnished room with the host standing behind you saying, "Look at this nice table. Isn't it a nice table?" The album relied too much, and too obviously, upon his voice.
But in time I've realised I was wrong, as I so often am. In fact, Hegarty only has sole dominion over the vocals in half of the tracks, thanks to contributions from Rufus Wainwright (the short and sweet What Can I Do?), Boy George (the wonderful You Are My Sister) and even Lou Reed (Fistful Of Love, another excellent track). He's happy to share the wealth to create an album of riches.
[Song from 0:12 to 2:40]
Furthermore, the album's minimalist sound isn't to brazenly show off his vocals, but to accompany them in the most appropriate way. They wouldn't work as well, or even at all, over anything loud, complicated or even fast (although this is a decent effort). The music compliments as well as complements Hegarty's voice.
Also, it's, y'know, good. Judging the backing only by how it presents the obvious is to do it a massive disservice. Although I'm personally not a fan of the rising crescendo of opening offering Hope There's Someone, which appeared in every 'Single of the Year' list, I do love the similar effect created in For Today I Am A Boy with a passion similar to that bestowed in each and every song.
Strings, too, which can make or destroy a record, are used to astonishingly good effect, turning nice into beautiful again and again (brilliant closing number Bird Guhl providing a good example). Fistful Of Love, meanwhile, concludes with a brass invasion that is no less than hugely uplifting.
I Am A Bird Now is, I have realised, superb from start to finish. Even extended sample Free At Last is there on merit, instead of merely delaying the end. And lyrically, it's just lovely: when a song with the chorus, "You are my sister and I love you - may all of your dreams come true" avoids being saccharine, you know he can write.
An album, and artist, I'm happy to have been wrong about.
For those caring less about England's friendly with Brazil and more about a game that actually matters, the eyes will presumably be swivelling towards the first leg of Europe's final World Cup qualifiers, and specifically Ireland vs France. Can the Irish overcome the former world champions to reach the finals in South Africa? Was it right for the play-offs to be seeded so they had such a tough game? And is there any basis of truth in this exchange at all?
Elsewhere in Europe, Ronaldo's Portugal have a tricky encounter against Bosnia-Herzegovina, erstwhile European champs Greece look to restore some pride against the Ukraine and Russia take on Slovenia.
But to be honest, I don't care. Because tomorrow, World Cup history could be made in a completely different part of the world. So does anyone know a pub anywhere in the UK that will be showing Togo vs Gabon?
After an epic two-year tournament, the African qualifying stages come to an end tomorrow with a flurry of teams trying to book a last-minute berth. Some of the big names are through (Ghana; Cote d'Ivoire); some are not (Nigeria and Egypt both need to win and hope results go their way).
The biggest fixtures, though, come in Group A - the Group Of Death.
Only one of the group's four teams can make the World Cup Finals, and three qualify for the African Cup of Nations. So when Gabon, a medium-sized west African country with around a million and a half inhabitants, none of whom have played in the World Cup Finals before, drew in their group Cameroon (featuring Samuel Eto'o, traditionally Africa's best team), Tunisia (regular qualifiers) and Togo (uh, Emmanuel Adebayor), it's fair to say they had the shortest odds on making neither tournament.
But amazingly, Gabon have a real chance. A chance to stop the likes of Samuel Eto'o and Alexandre Song playing on the world's biggest stage. A chance to stop Morocco even playing in the relatively minor African Cup of Nations.
A chance for this group of amateurs and semi-pros, whose most well-known player is probably Daniel Cousins of Hull, to play in the World Cup Finals for the very first time.
All the Black Panthers need to do is to beat Togo - which they did 3-0 at home - and hope Cameroon manage only a draw away to a Morocco team they couldn't beat on home turf. Gabon may need a result to go their way, but success is within their grasp.
So if you see me in a pub in Portsmouth tomorrow only keeping an idle eye on the England or Ireland game while frantically refreshing my phone's internet browser, you'll know why. I'll be keeping tabs on a team on the brink of making history.
Well, well, well. Barack Obama has won the Nobel Peace Prize.
The Norwegian board awarding the prize said, "Only very rarely has a person to the same extent as Obama captured the world's attention and given its people hope for a better future." (More here.)
That's certainly true. But is this enough to merit the most prestigious award there is? I'd be the last to suggest Obama is all mouth and no trousers, and I'm confident he'll deliver on his promises - but the point is, in terms of world peace (the simplest of achievements, surely), he hasn't made a fantastic deal of progress yet. So what exactly is this Nobel Peace Prize honouring? An indirect inspiration to this fantastic poster?
Personally, I'd like to have seen Zimbabwe's Prime Minister Morgan Tsvangirai recognised for his attempts at overcoming corruption and restoring order in Zimbabwe. But then, I suppose he didn't succeed either; part of a tragic year in which he also lost his wife in a car accident. Perhaps it's right to reward effort, rather than results.
After only nine months in power Obama's Peace Prize is surely a sign of hope, not achievement. But maybe that's the point.
At last, then, it seems safe to confirm the death of Michael Jackson at the age of 50. Now the mania is over, we can take a look at the development of the story and how different parts of the media reacted to what were at the time mere allegations.
Sorry, that sounds incredibly boring. I'll keep it simple, then, and I'll keep it brief. Still, if you're expecting Jacko-related jokes ("His heart couldn't beat it any more" etc.), then you're better off trying somewhere else: I was bored of them after minutes, and we've still months of them to come. Joy.
News of MJ's passing first came from TMZ, a celebrity gossip site following a tip-off that paramedics had visited the singer's home. All that was known at that point was that he had gone into cardiac arrest (not the same as a heart attack, by the way), so the entertainment website responsibly responded by telling the whole world HE'S DEAD, HE'S DEAD OH MY GOD HE'S DEAD.
Sky News followed. Of course it bloody did: Sky News' long-standing motto, which it makes no attempt to deny, is 'never wrong for long'.
Which is why I didn't trust it.
Myself, I was waiting for confirmation from BBC News - a predictable but much more reliable outlet - who steadfastly led with nothing more hyperbolic than 'Michael Jackson taken to hospital'. For this, they deserve praise, which should also be lavished upon them for keeping constant coverage, including my hero and one-time pee buddy (don't ask) Lizo Mzimba. BBC Online's headline then graduated onto calling him 'gravely ill' and then the admittedly ill-advised 'Michael Jackson 'dead'' - ill-advised because 'these' just make it sound 'sarcastic' - before finally confirming the story some hours after it first broke.
So given that the story of Jackson's death was true, was the BBC just slow, perhaps even irresponsibly slow, to report it? No. It was waiting for reliable confirmation from official sources, not an entertainment website. As it should do. Take a note, Sky News.
Anyway, once TMZ had broken the 'story' (understand, BBC? 'These' mean 'sarcasm'), it was within minutes all over the internet, as people such as myself sought to learn the truth of the news from more people like myself. That is, people didn't know whether Jackson was alive or dead, so had to ask other people who didn't know either. This led to a hive of activity, soon becoming a hive of inactivity as the internet buckled under the weight of worldwide confusion. Briefly, Google died, Twitter died and even TMZ, who started the whole thing, died. Nice work bringing that on yourself, guys.
Will the interwebs be able to withstand another assault on their blogotubes? I don't think we'll ever know.
I can't think of many stories that would have such an effect worldwide - people talk about the death of the Queen and the like causing a global stir, but due to the decline in the British Empire and the release of best-selling album ever Thriller, she hasn't touched as many people in as many countries as Michael Jackson. Think of that what you will.
But it does show that social networking sites are now the best news aggregators you can hope for. Find a story, pass it on. Admittedly you have to wade through the shit (OMG HES DED!!!!!!!!!!!!!11), but Twitter, with its #hashtags and trending topics, is actually quite a good news source.
Anyway, now it's all over and his death has been confirmed, what have we learned? Well... nothing, really. The story was right. So TMZ and Sky News were right. Damn. I was hoping this would be a chance for people to realise they can't be trusted.
And Jackson's death itself? Well, with debt, illness and 50 concert dates he was never realistically going to make, the conspiracy theories are flying around almost as quickly as the jokes. But it's my firm belief that he's dead, and we should accept that. Sorry, kids.
For once, some good news about social networking sites. Not that it will get anything like the kind of coverage an actual suicide would, of course. Ho hum.
Fair play to the American girl and her mother, though: they really went above and beyond the call of duty. Some hope for the human race yet.
I was in Tuscon last week for the Gorilla Multisport Winter Training Camp. My original intention was to blog every day while at camp to give the daily update on the experience. But, frankly, I was too tired to manage it. So, now I am typing this from home in San Diego after a few days of recovery and decompression.
I had been looking forward to this for a while... five days of nothing but training, learning and hanging out with some other like-minded triathletes.
We arrived on Tuesday, I'll call it Day 0. After the long drive I was pretty wired, so I went for a quick run before some grub and bed. Our hotel was about 2 miles from the Kino Sports Complex, which is where the Arizona Diamondbacks do their spring training... made for a nice turnaround for the out and back route. Workout #1 in the books.
Day 1 - Wednesday The other campers were not due to arrive until mid-day, but since we were in town and had some free time, my friend and Gorilla Multisport Coach DeeAnn and I went to a Masters workout at the University of Arizona. They run a nice program over there and the pool is amazing. With the week of heavy training ahead, I was glad to find out that the workout was an easy one. Lots of fast 100's and 50's with lots of rest, along with some technique work. I ended up with just over 3000 yards for the workout. After some coffee, breakfast and a short rest, I headed out for a run out to the Kino Sports Complex again. One of the campers from Florida, Joseph, had arrived, so he joined me. We ended up with just over 4.5 miles of easy jogging. After lunch and "registration", the entire crew convened for the first ride of the camp, Gates Pass. The ride began with a flat stretch through urban Tucson, which was not great due to all the stoplights. But once we were out of town, the scenery was amazing... spectacular views of the desert and endless miles of cactus and beautiful landscapes. The highlight of the ride was the climb up and over Gates Pass, which has a section at the top that rivals some of the steepest roads I've ever climbed on a bike. Out of the saddle in the 39x26, just trying to keep the pedals turning over. After a photo opp at the top, we bombed down the backside and back into town. Total ride was 38 miles. After getting back to the hotel and cleaning up, we were treated to a nutrition presentation from Bob Seebohar (www.fuel4mance.com), elite coach and sports nutritionist for the 2008 US Olympic Triathlon Team. I learned a lot about metabolic efficiency and picked up some tips that I will definitely incorporate into my own training.
Day 2 - Thursday AM - 50 mile ride out to Colossal Cave Mountain Park. Coach Bob and Seton Claggett from TriSports.com joined us for the ride. Both are great guys and strong athletes. Overall, an moderate ride with lots of false flats and gentle inclines. The best part was that all the climbing was in the first 30 miles and the entire 20 mile return trip was a gentle descent. Immediately upon returning, our group headed out for a quick 20 minute transition run. Coach Bob rode and ran with us and gave us some great tips on run cadence. After a quick bite to eat, I put my legs up for an hour to rest up for the afternoon ride. PM - 38 mile ride, the bottom half of the El Tour de Tucson route. By this time, the day had turned hot and windy... so we were treated to a pretty tough ride, starting out in urban Tucson, than out to some less-traveled roads in the north part of town. As soon as we could get our bikes in the hotel rooms and showered up, we headed over to a strength workout with Coach Bob. We focused on a concept he calls neuromuscular activation... essentially a series of pre and post-workout movements that activate the key muscle groups. Again, I learned a lot... great stuff.
Day 3 - Friday AM - The Shootout is a regular Saturday hammerfeest that has been taking place in Tucson for over 30 years... its a fairly challenging route famous for attracting the most competitive cyclists and is typically full of attacks and counterattacks. We choose to do The Shootout ride on Friday on our own to get a sample of the route without the blistering pace and a big peleton. Seton Claggett from TriSports.com rode with us again. It started out with an easy 15 miles in town than a long 15 miles of false flat... nearly dead straight... before it finally kicks up with a final short steep climb. I was feeling pretty strong so I kept the pace high on the false flat, but once the hill came Seton dropped me like a rock as he disappeared up the steep incline. The local knowledge proved to be pretty handy! After regrouping, we headed back into town at a pretty good clip (22-24 mph) thanks to the mostly flat and gently descending route. PM - Late Friday afternoon, I had a swim analysis and video scheduled... but beforehand, for the first time in three days, I had a couple hours to relax. So I napped by the pool. After my nap and a shower, I headed over to TriSports for my swim video. They have a sweet two-lane Endless Pool set-up with underwater and above water cameras. The instructor told me that my stroke was pretty solid (I hope so!), but gave me a few suggestions that I think will be helpful. In particular, one thing that I discovered is that I tend to pull up short with my right arm on the pull. So I need to concentrate on finishing my stroke on that side. Good feedback and something I probably would have never figured out on my own without the video feedback.
Saturday - Day 4 AM - This was the big day. Mt. Lemmon. A 26 mile climb rising from 2500 ft to a peak over 8200 ft. I've ridden San Diego's big climb, Palomar Mountain... which is tough. But the top of Palomar is at just over 5000 ft. When climbing Mt. Lemmon, the 5000 ft mark is not even halfway up the climb. Palomar is steeper, but it is the length of Mt. Lemmon that is killer... over 2 hrs of consistent work going up the mountain. We started the ride with an easy 15 miles of riding through Tucson and regrouped at a coffee shop about 2 miles from the Mile 0 marker at the base of the climb. After some pics and a double shot of espresso, we started up. There were 5 of us (myself, Norm, Manny, Joseph, and Greg) in the group that agreed to ride the whole mountain... the rest of the campers would climb for 90 minutes as far as they could go and then turn around. The summit team (sounds cool, eh?) all exchanged numbers and arranged to text or call each other if for some reason we needed to turn around. Otherwise, we would all meet up at the top. We got going and could see the road twisting up the mountain ahead of us... it was pretty intimidating. About 50 yards past the Mile 0 sign, Norm informed me that my rear tire was flat. Crap. He stayed back to help me get it changed while the rest of the group proceeded ahead. Once I fixed the tire, we proceeded again. The first 5 miles of the climb were tough, there were some killer headwinds that made it tough just to stay upright on the bike. I thought to myself that if the entire climb was this windy, it was going to be a very, very difficult day. Fortunately, as the road twisted and turned up the mountain there was some shelter from the wind and it got easier. I made a concerted effort to keep my HR in high Zone 2 (130-140) and just stayed on my 39x26 gear keeping the cadence high. This netted me a blistering pace of about 10-11 mph. Ha. Every few minutes, I shifted up to my 25 or 23 and climbed out of the saddle to give my hamstrings and lower back a rest. At Mile 7, I caught Manny and Joseph and we all took some pictures from the Seven Cataracts viewpoint. Spectacular. After the short break, I continued up the climb and quickly separated from the other guys. The views up the mountain were simply unbelievable, incredible rock formations and of course, the view of the valley falling further and further away... the closest thing I can relate them to is the Grand Canyon. It's hard to do them justice with words or even pictures. The rest of the climb went pretty well. Every time my legs were screaming for a break, the slope softened a bit and I was able to recover just enough for the next tough stretch ahead. Finally, I got to the first peak at Mile 21 and was treated to a descent. A descent? Wait, I'm not at the top yet! The final few miles of the "climb" were a bowl that drops about 400 ft before re-ascending to 8200 ft at the village of Mt. Lemmon. At the base of the final climb, I caught Greg whom I hadn't seen since I flatted two hours before. We laughed about how tough the climb was, and rolled into town together. A great sense of accomplishment that we indulged by getting some hot chocolate (it was cold!) and huge pieces of banana cream pie. About 10 minutes later, Norm rolled in and about 30 minutes later, Manny arrived. Shortly thereafter, we got a text that Joseph had turned around. So we finished up our good, got some pics and then headed back down the mountain. It was about 30 degrees cooler at the top, so I put on my arm warmers and shoved some loose paper (the cafe to-go menus!) in my jersey front to block the wind. It took about 25 minutes of work to get back out to the first peak, which after the long break and food was tough. But once back to Mile 21, it was literally all downhill from there. The descent is somewhat technical and super-fast. By the time I got to the bottom, my hands were cramping from constantly being the brakes trying to moderate my speed. On several occasions I was touching 40 mph and that was trying to be conservative. Finally, after regrouping again at the bottom, we headed back for the final 15 miles toward home. The full day was 85 miles, about 8000 ft of climbing. A great day on the bike and one that I will remember forever. PM - Once we rolled back into the hotel at about 3pm, we slammed our (late) lunches and got ready to head over to the University of Arizona pool for a swim workout. I was tempted to bail and just relax, but the idea of splashing around the pool for a drill workout sounded good. Finally at 5pm the tough day was over and we all gathered around the hotel pool for pizza and beer. Good times.
Sunday - Day 5 Final day of camp... no cycling. After four tough days of riding, it was nice not to be getting on the bike first thing in the morning. Besides I was running out of clean cycling clothes. Actually, I ran out of clean stuff on Friday... but was able to make do with some Woolite and the hotel room sink. Anyway, I digress. After a quick breakfast, we piled into the cars and headed out to Saguero National Park for an amazing trail run. There is a 8 mile loop that is simply spectacular. Everyone was on their own to decide how far they wanted to run, we simply had a two hour time limit. Most choose to do one loop. My legs were pretty toasted from the riding, but I wanted a little more than 8 miles. My lower threshold for a "long" run is 12 miles, so I ran one loop and did a 2 mile out and back to bring it up to the requisite dozen. The quads were not happy with me as I climbed back into the van for the 20 minute drive home. After some more breakfast and a shower, we packed up the gear, said our goodbyes and got on the road back to San Diego.
Overall, it was a tremendous few days. Training wise, it was my biggest week ever... with over 270 miles on the bike, 30 miles of running and about 7k of swimming. To think that pros do that every week!! Aside from the training, the other campers were awesome... good people all of them. It was great to spend some time hanging out, we had a blast.
Here are some pics from the rides.
Entrance to Colossal Cave Mountain Park
Joseph, Manny and Me - The Shootout Loop
Heading toward Colossal Cave Mountain Park
The Mt. Lemmon Summit Crew - Manny, Norm, Me, Greg, Joseph... before the climb
At the base of Mt. Lemmon, right before I flatted.
Somewhere near Mile 10 of the Mt. Lemmon climb
Mt. Lemmon - Looking down, around Mile 14.
Banana Cream Pie and Hot Chocolate at the top of Mt. Lemmon - delicious.
Taken while descending at 35+mph. Not recommended.
