Almost Famous

I’ve always wanted to be famous; I think everyone has. I always feel uncomfortable around people who insist they wouldn’t want to be famous. If you say you don’t want to be famous that means one of two things: Either you’re completely full of sh*t, or you’re not a self-centered a**hole like the rest of us. Either way, I don’t want you around, you make me uneasy.

My reasons for wanting fame have fluctuated throughout my life. There’s always been the generic reasons like women, money, iconic status, women, supreme-awesomeness, etc. But lately something has come completely out of left field to make me yearn for stardom. And that something is “Itunes Celebrity Playlist.”

If you’re unfamiliar with these lists, allow me to explain them. What these lists are is a ‘playlist’ of songs put together by some celebrity, pseudo-celebrity, or artist. What purpose these lists serve is unknown, but they bring me joy on so many levels. It’s always fun to learn that some actor or athlete you like has good taste in music. And it’s equally fun/disheartening to learn that some truly horrific bands, like Hoobastank, have almost identical musical tastes to yourself*. Now I really want to be a celebrity just so Apple will ask me to make a playlist and everyone will see how awesome my musical taste is.

So the other day as I was jealously browsing celebrity playlists, something dawned upon me. I said to myself:

“Hey Calvin, you’ve got a blog. And upwards of 15 people read that blog. And you’re a celebrity/hero/savior to all your readers, so why don’t you just post your playlist on your blog?”

It was at that point that I realized – and this was for the third time today, folks – that I’m damn near a genius. So, without further ado, here’s the first of what I suspect will be many:

Calvin’s Itunes Celebrity Playlist

Music has always been a huge part of my life. I’ve always been inspired by music. It drives me to be a better person and a better (insert celebrity career). Here’s a short list of what I’ve been listening to the past month or so.

Phoenix – “Rally”: Just a great upbeat song by a great band. I think it’s impossible to not want to dance when you hear this song, or tap your hand on the steering wheel if you hear it while driving. Or to give at least some indication that you’re enjoying the song.

Travis – “Selfish Jean”: Travis was one of my favorite bands growing up. They’re almost solely responsible for my love of Brit Rock. This is sort of an experimental track for Travis, as the drums on this song are actually audible to the human ear.

The Thermals – “Pillar of Salt”: With all due respect to The Killers and Interpol, this might be the best synth rock song ever.

Bright Eyes – “Four Winds”: Despite Conor Oberst’s pretension, melodramatic lyrics, and his over-the-top bravado, I still enjoy Bright Eyes. That’s because, in my opinion, they’re about as good as it gets musically. This song is no exception.

Bill Callahan – “Sycamore”: I’m really not sure why Mr. Callahan decided to drop his Smog alias, but this song is gorgeous nonetheless. Also, I really didn’t mean to rhyme in that last sentence.

Beirut – “Elephant Gun”: After a stellar debut, Beirut got themselves a full band. Their sound is a lot fuller now, and Zach Condon still has one of the top voices in music.

The National – “Start A War”: The National are generally too clever for their own good. Their lyrics are oftentimes a little too witty and subtle that they’re too easily dismissed**. This is not the case though for this song (or for most of their newest album). This song is just a beautiful, simply-stated love song.

Cloud Cult – “Chemicals Collide”: Outside of the fact that Cloud Cult sounds like something out of a Final Fantasy game, there’s nothing to dislike about this band or this song.

Coconut Records – “West Coast”: My near-homeless friend John Asdell recommended this song to me and I can’t thank him enough for that. Now, you’d assume John’s time would be better served in search of some sort of monetary income instead of recommending music to friends. Still, that’s neither here nor there.

Aqueduct – “Broken Records”: Aqueduct kinda sounds like a combination of Built to Spill and Mates of State. Except there’s no Doug Marsh, and unlike Mates of State, they’re actually good.

Dntel (Feat. Jenny Lewis) – “Roll On”: If I were blind and could only distinguish (read: judge) people based on their voice, I have no doubt that I would think Jenny Lewis was the most beautiful woman in the world. On voice alone, she’s the most desirable women in the US. The rest of the package is, um, not quite as good as her voice. Oh yeah, this song is OK too.

Snow Patrol – “Signal Fire”: No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop loving Snow Patrol. Even on songs like this, when they’re clearly mailing it in***. Still, I’m always a sucker for grandiose music accompanied by a near silent piano-driven bridge. Damn you, Gary Lightbody.

Until We Meet Again
* I actually don’t remember if Hoobastank even has a celebrity playlist. And if they did I certainly don’t remember what kind of music they listened to. I just like typing Hoobastank.
**However, it should be noted that this is one of the main reasons I love The National.
*** At least I hope they’re mailing it in, because otherwise they’ve really fallen off.

David Stern, I will Feel Your Blood On My Hands… TONIGHT!?!?!?

F*ck you David Stern. F*ck you for caring more about your league’s image then about the level of it’s play. F*ck you for being too cowardly to admit that always interpreting this rule by the letter of the law was incredibly foolish and a mistake. F*ck you for allowing other rules to be interpreted subjectively, but not allowing the same treatment for this rule. Also, f*ck you for being to much of a va-jay-jay to show up in Phoenix tonight to take your (verbal) beating like a man. F*ck the NBA for once again ruining a great playoff series and being too stubborn to admit fault. F*ck me for caring for too much about a game that I have no actual impact on. And finally, f*ck me again for not giving up on the NBA after this debacle.

So I was going to write a full blown, essay-length blog on this incident, but I didn’t have the time. You see when you do absolutely nothing all day, like I do, it’s hard to find the time to accomplish even the simplest of tasks. For instance, in order to have fully and satisfactorily written about the suspensions handed down in the Suns-Spurs series I would have had to make time to do so. And what, preytell, could I have cut out?

- The two hours after I woke up that I laid in bed and played my Ukulele? Not likely, seeing as how that relaxes and prepares me to face the day*.

- The hour I spent reading the paper and debating whether or not I should do the dishes I had left from last night? I couldn’t have cut this out, it was the busiest part of my day. I was multi tasking.

- The 15 minutes I walked my dogs and then decided that it was way too hot to be outside? Ok maybe this, but 15 minutes wouldn’t have been enough.

- The hour I spent simulating game on MVP Baseball 2005 in order to get to the playoffs? Not a chance. That sh*ts a priority these days.

- How about the hour and a half in which I went to lunch with my brother? Again, no. Blood is thicker then water.

By the time I got home from lunch PTI was on and I still had dishes to do. So really, I had no time to write. So instead I just decided to give you the extremely shortened version of what I would have written. I left out some really great stuff, like how this is a direct result of the media bias. Thanks to the media labeling basketball players as thugs when they fight, all the while claiming its part of the game anytime a players from any other sports fights. And because of this bias the NBA always overreacts anytime there’s even the slightest of skirmishes. I also was going talk about how dangerous a precedent Stern is setting by allowing the team that deliberately delivers cheap shots can benefit from doing so. I think I also left out some anti-Semitic remarks about Stern, which is probably a good thing.

I could have literally written at least ten pages about this, I was that angry. Especially after the “it’s not about fairness, it’s about correctness” line from Stu Jackson. Really, so you’d rather uphold a stupid rule then allow the players to decide a series? Or after David Stern came off like the most condescending prick ever on the Dan Patrick Show and tried to pass the blame onto the owners and the Suns coaching staff. But, as I’ve already mentioned, other things got in the way of me doing this. So all I really had time left to write was an expletive filled rant and a brief explanation of that rant.

What kills me the most about all of this, is that the people who are going to be the most pissed off by this, i.e. true basketball fans, are the ones who won’t do anything about it. I’m so infuriated that I want to boycott the NBA, but I love basketball too much to do that. If anything, Stern has made more casual fans interested in this game with this ruling. He knows that the people who are most pissed off and most affected by this will always be back. But my ruling this he guarantees his league more press and more casual viewers. So really it’s a smart business move, just an incredibly f*cked up and heartless one. I could go on, but in all likelihood I’d never stop. And I have to go do my dishes anyway.

Until We Meet Again
* And no, playing my ukulele is not a euphemism for masturbation.

A Night With Willie Nelson

So on my last night I in Denver I got a phone call that changed my life. It was from my new favorite person, Joe Hickle. Young Joseph informed me that he had second row tickets to the Willie Nelson concert that was taking place on my first night back in Tucson. He then asked if I would like to go with him, my older brother Luke and our pleasantly plump friend, William Mordka to the concert. Naturally I said yes as quickly as possible. What transpired was one of the best nights I’ve had in some time. Here’s a few highlights from my night with Willie Nelson.

- Willie was playing at one of the Indian casinos here in Tucson, I found this humorous for several reasons. One being that Willie Nelson, the consummate cowboy, was playing at a place which sole purpose is to drive in revenue for Indians. Kinda of ironic. Secondly, he wasn’t even playing at one of the better casinos in town, which also made me laugh. In other news, I have the mental make up of a 10 year old with a gambling problem.
- My brother and I decide we’ll know at least 50% of the songs Willie will play. He opens with “Whiskey River”, so far so good.
- While in lines for beverages, we quickly decide that Willie has far and away the ugliest fan group of any musician, ever. After racking our brains we can’t thing of a single other band or artist who could even come close to this groups, um, looks. I’m not trying to be mean, but the majority of Willie’s fans resembled retired carnies.
- Willie introduces us to the bands piano player, his sister Bobbi. Apparently Bobbi is famous for falling asleep during sets while Willie talks to the crowd. After her introduction Bobbi, who looks paler then an albino, whips the crowd into a frenzy with a saloon style piano solo. We have a serious conversation about whether or not Bobbi is a robot.
- 6 songs in and “Whiskey River” is the only song I’ve fully recognized. I think to myself that my musical historian chops aren’t nearly as good as I thought.
- Willie flips the script on us and plays 4 straight songs of Stardust, all of which I know and love. Thanks Willie.
- On my way to the bathroom I stop by the merchandise stand. I see a bandana I can’t live without. The only question now is whether I put it my arm or my head.*
- Through out the show, audience members keep wandering up to the stage and setting things down at Willie feet. Strangely, this all seems completely natural. Some people put pictures of Willie, which he’ll sign and give back to them. Other people just want to see him up close. Security never interferes with the people who approach Willie. One guy gives Willie his cowboy hat, which Willie immediately puts on. A few songs later, a woman who was at least 65, takes her bra off and then throws it on stage. Willie, being the kind gentlemen he is, then gives this lady the hat he was wearing. I was left speechless by this whole occurrence.
- The guy who gave Willie his hat, which Willie subsequently gave to the lady who gave him her bra, goes over to the lady who is now in possession of his hat. After some pleading the guy regains possession of his hat. Needless to say, all of us were very upset by this chain of events. After some discuss we decide that once you throw an object on stage you’ve lost possession rights to that object. Therefore, cowboy hat guy no longer had any claim to his hat once he chucked it on stage. This guy was a huge douche and should never have asked for his hat back, he broke ‘throwing things on stage etiquette’. This was probably the only down side of the concert.
- Willie takes us home with a series of country classics, the best being his rendition of “You Were Always on My Mind”. Just an amazing show. Willie has to be the most approachable musician I’ve ever seen. He truly appreciates his fans and still loves playing music. Either that or he’s just extremely permafried.
- Instead of leaving the stage after his set, Willie sticks around to shake hands with the fans who have rushed to the front of the stage. He’s also signing autographs the entire time. My brother and I rush up to the stage like 12 year olds girls at a Color Me Badd concert. Willie shakes my brother’s hands and gives it a squeeze for good measure. For some reason the hand I was lifting towards Willie was the one which was holding my beer. I’d like to say that it had something to do with the fact that I was running on four hours of sleep and had been traveling all day or that I was drunk, but neither of these excuses would be true. I just happen to be an absent minded person. Anyhow, my brain fart turned out to be a stroke of genius. After Willie shook my brother’s hand, he grabs the beer bottle out of mine. Willie looks at it for a second, takes a swig from it, signs it and then hands it back to me. Needless to say, this was probably the coolest thing to ever happen to me, at least at a concert.
- As we were leaving, I go into a bathroom stall and placed the signed bottle in my pants. I didn’t want to risk security not letting me out with the bottle. You just never know what kind of power tripping a-hole is working security at an Indian Casino. I then awkwardly walked to the car and placed the bottle in the trunk of our car. We then finished off the night with some blackjack. Good times, good times.

So to recap, seeing Willie Nelson live is awesome. Having Willie Nelson drink from and sign your beer bottle is even more awesome. I am awesome.

In closing, I think I’ll take a Charlie Murphy quote out of context, because it best sums up this while night. Take it away Charlie:

“I mean there’s some great storytellers in the world today, but who the hell could make up that sh*t?”

Not I Charlie, not I.

Until We Meet Again.
* Semi-obscure ‘Real Cancun’ reference.