Top 50 Albums of All Time, #22 - "Who's Next" (1971)

I've got quite a history with this album.

At one time in my life, I might have ranked it up in the top ten.  At another time, it wouldn't have made the list at all.  So what happened?

Let's start at the beginning.  Spring of 1974, I'm wrapping up 8th grade, and hanging out at a friend's house after school.  His brother plops the album on the turntable, and the first song coming out of the speakers is "Getting in Tune."  It's the second side, followed by "Going Mobile," "Behind Blue Eyes" and the epic "Won't Get Fooled Again."  I'm hooked - and it's almost as if a new world has opened up.  Looking back now, it was probably the first "pantheon album" that I'd ever heard - what most objective observers would call the best album from a band considered to be one of best ever.

Fast forward to the fall of 1980 - my first quarter at Berkeley, during that time when you're trying to figure out the right balance between freedom (I can do anything I want, any time I want!) and responsibility (Oh yeah, there's that whole study and do well on your grades thing still hanging overhead).  Trying to get used to a bunch of people from different backgrounds, with different tastes and different whims.  And, perhaps most importantly to someone like myself, with different musical tastes.

So at any given point during my two years in the dorms, that might have meant the guy who went in for folk-era Dylan, or the guy who was into Eno's ambient music, or the young lady who went more for the hardcore stuff (X, Flipper), or in one particular instance, the guy who owned two albums and played them at length, nearly every day - one of them being "Who's Next" (the other was Todd Rundgren's "Something/Anything," which at least had the virtue of being a double album).  What I learned in that one nine-month period is that there are no albums that can withstand that amount of playing - not even an album as great as "Who's Next."  It was nearly 20 years before I could listen to it again.

Once I made peace with it, there could be no question that this was one of the greatest albums ever recorded; the prototype of what would now be considered the classic "classic rock" album.  From the majestic opening of "Baba O'Riley," to the perfect Roger Daltrey vocals, to the outright beauty of some of the music ("The Song Is Over," "Behind Blue Eyes"), to the humor of John Entwistle's "My Wife," and to what was probably the last great drumming of Keith Moon's career - it's damn near perfect.

Give it another 10 years, and it may wind its way all the back to the top ten.

Sportsball Update!

I've noticed lately that people have begun to use "sportsball" as a derogatory (in my opinion) term to describe a) sports in general when they don't care for sports in general; and b) sports that they don't care for, when they may be passionate about others.  Either way, it strikes me as a way to appear superior to all of us yahoos who (to quote my mom) will watch any contest where they keep score.

So...screw that.  Instead of falling prey to the temptation to demonstrate one's superiority for not being into something that appeals to the masses, how about just keeping those thoughts to yourself?  And meanwhile, I promise not to publicly comment on any of your obsessions that I find to be particularly uninspiring.

And now that I've got that out of my system, there's a lot been going on lately in the world of sportsball, and I've been remiss in not commenting on any of it!

Let's start with the U.S. Open, both men's and women's division.  For the first time, both tournaments were played in consecutive weeks on the same course (Pinehurst No. 2), which was plenty cool in and of itself.  And notwithstanding the rants of one Donald the Trump, who likes his courses lush and green, the course looked great - and more importantly, looked exactly like the kind of course that our national tournament should be played on.

Admittedly, there wasn't a lot of drama to be found over either of the respective weekends, but that's not entirely a bad thing, because you can't sneeze at the type of dominating performance that Martin Kaymer turned in for the men.  And Michelle Wie?  She may only be 24, but she's been around forever.  She is clearly the superstar that women's golf needs to take it to the next level.  And there's something about potential fulfilled that is gratifying.  She's been through a lot, and some of her problems may have been self-inflicted, but Wie now seems poised to grab the spotlight in a way that no other golfer could hope to, outside of a couple of guys named Tiger and Phil.

And how about those San Antonio Spurs?  They may not be a "dynasty" as the term is defined by Phil Jackson, but they've certainly managed to achieve a level of sustained excellence that no other NBA team in history (outside of the Boston Celtics and Los Angeles Lakers) can match.  Tim Duncan may not be the best player in the history of the league, but as Bill Simmons astutely noted last week, only Kareem Abdul-Jabbar may have had a better career than Duncan.  Championships 15 years apart, and still playing at a high level.  Parker and Ginobli?  Mainstays for a decade.  And Kawhi Leonard, the series MVP?  The guy was SEVEN YEARS OLD when Duncan won his first title.  And when challenged by mastermind Gregg Popovich, he came through like few others have - effectively outplaying the man who might just be the best who's ever played the game.

And so what about Lebron and his legacy?  He's got his two rings and he's recovered from the asinine way he publicly portrayed his entry into Miami four years ago, but at the same time he's lost two finals and now he seems chained to a ship that, if not sinking, is certainly starting to take on water.  If he leaves for greener pastures, anywhere except Cleveland, he puts the entire "asshole" argument back in play.  If he stays and the Heat can't pull themselves together for another title run, he never challenges Jordan for the title of "best of all time."  What's important to him?   I guess we'll find out.

World Cup?  Yeah, it's been awesome this year, with dramatic games nearly every day.  And how painful was that 2-2 tie today with Portugal?  Well, it reminded me of how I felt when Robert Horry stuck a dagger through the heart of the Kings way back in 2002, in Game 4 of the greatest NBA series ever played.  But our next game is against Germany, and what have they ever done in the World Cup?  Right?

Hat tip to Rafael Nadal - great win over Novak Djokovic in the French Open Final; and all of a sudden Roger Federer's title as the greatest major player in history is at doubt.

And last but not least, kudos to the L.A. Kings - who were down THREE GAMES TO ZERO in the FIRST round of the Stanley Cup playoffs.  I'd call that resilience.

Sportsball, baby...that's where it's at.

Top 50 Albums of All Time, #23: "Automatic for the People," R.E.M. (1992)

R.E.M.'s career went through a number of distinct phases.  Their first three albums established them as the world's favorite indie critics' band, even as Michael Stipe's enunciation issues and oddball lyrics made them almost impossible to understand.  Around the time of "Fables of the Reconstruction," I remember telling a good friend from my college days that I wasn't even sure if I liked them that much.

And then, BOOM.  On "Life's Rich Pageant" they hired John Mellencamp's producer, turned up the mikes on Bill Berry's drum set, and all of a sudden Michael Stipe decided to stop mumbling.  Some critics called it a sell-out (or even worse, a betrayal), but I thought it was their best album to date.  This trend continued with "Document," which was even better, and "Green," which was almost that good.

But it was after that, in the early to mid-1990s, that the band hit their creative peak.  During that time they issued four consecutive albums falling somewhere between "classic" and "masterpiece," and one of the reasons it's taken so long to restart this project is that I really wanted to avoid the cop out of selecting all four, like I did with Talking Heads.  After listening to all four albums quite a bit, it came down to a choice between "Out of Time" (which should probably be somewhere on this list, but call it near the top of the next tier) and "Automatic for the People," which were released within about a year of each other.

It's the latter album that gets the nod.  Interestingly, the worst song is the first, "Drive," and even it is pretty good.  But it's the six songs that anchor the record - all among their best, featuring some of the most beautiful music they ever wrote - that push it over the top.  I'm talking about "Try Not to Breathe," "Everybody Hurts," "Sweetness Follows," "Man on the Moon," "Nightswimming," and "Find the River."  That's half the album right there, and if I was putting together a tape representing the best of their career, I'd be hard pressed to leave any of those off.

These are not happy songs - just check these lyrics from "Try Not to Breathe:"

I will try not to breathe.
I can hold my head still with my hands at my knees.
These eyes are the eyes of the old, shiver and fold.
I will try not to breathe.
This decision is mine. I have lived a full life
And these are the eyes that I want you to remember. Oh.

I need something to fly over my grave again.
I need something to breathe.
I will try not to burden you.
I can hold these inside. I will hold my breath
Until all these shivers subside,
Just look in my eyes.

The meaning behind those lyrics has been talked about for more than two decades now, to the point where the discussion has its own page on Metafilter.  Clearly the song is about death, but the brilliance of the writing is that you can't pin down the circumstances.  I've always felt it was about someone dying of AIDs, but that's not necessarily the case.  

And these from "Everybody Hurts:"

Sometimes everything is wrong
Now it's time to sing along
When your day is night alone (Hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go (Hold on)
If you think you've had too much
Of this life, well hang on
Everybody hurts
Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts
Don't throw your hand, oh no

I'm not sure what Michael Stipe was going through at that time of his life, but he clearly had a lot on his mind.  But it's best to remember R.E.M. as a band, because their work together was definitely greater than the sum of each individual part.  Nearly every song they recorded was credited to the entire band, and the music they created together was at times so beautiful - gorgeous melodies and vocals - that you sometimes forgot that it was a lot more than Stipe and three sidemen.  So here's to Peter Buck, Mike Mills and Bill Berry.  You were all a great band.

Restarting: Top 50 Albums of all time

For the last couple of summers, my "summer blog project" has been the "95 Songs of Summer," but I think we've taken that one about as far as it can go.  So this summer, the goal will be to wrap up the Top 50 Albums of all time list, started long ago but which stalled out earlier this year. 

But first, let's get caught up on where we were.

You can find all of the individual reviews here.

24. Talking Heads first four albums, 1977-80
25. American IV: The Man Comes Around, Johnny Cash
26.  Pretzel Logic, Steely Dan
27.  Late for the Sky, Jackson Browne
28.  Rubber Soul, The Beatles
29. Songs for Swingin' Lovers, Frank Sinatra
30.  Dig Me Out, Sleater-Kinney
31.  Kiko, Los Lobos
32. Rust Never Sleeps, Neil Young & Crazy Horse
33.  Horses, Patti Smith
34.  The Joshua Tree, U2
35.  Rumours, Fleetwood Mac
36.  Peter Gabriel (1980)
37.  August and Everything After, Counting Crows
38.  Tie: Siren and Avalon, Roxy Music
39.  Rocket to Russia, The Ramones
40.  Making Movies, Dire Straits
41.  Black Cadillac, Rosanne Cash
42.  Graceland, Paul Simon
43.  Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, Lucinda Williams
44.  Life'll Kill Ya, Warren Zevon
45.  Decoration Day, Drive-By Truckers
46.  Actually, Pet Shop Boys
47.  Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy, Elton John
48.  Los Angeles, X
49.  Madonna
50.  Some Girls, The Rolling Stones

On the occasion of Born in the U.S.A.'s 30th anniversary

"...the aural vibrancy of the thing reminds me like nothing in years that what teenagers loved about rock and roll wasn't that it was catchy or even vibrant but that it just plain sounded good."

- Robert Christgau

"Born in the U.S.A." holds a unique spot in the Bruce Springsteen canon - it's his most commercially successful album, and yet the album that is most detested by many diehard Bruce fans.  Even the website "Backstreets" has been known to dis' it on occasion - I clearly remember a time when they wrote something along the lines of "A concert without any songs from Born in the U.S.A.? Priceless."

So what happened?  For what it's worth, my theory is that the longtime fans resented the fact that the album was so successful that a) it made it a lot more difficult to get into his concerts; b) it was pretty clear that many (most?) of the new fans were fair-weather fans; and c) his popularity made it necessary to make the jump into the stadiums, resulting in a less intimate concert experience and (inevitably, given the massive scale of the enterprise) an overall drop in the quality of the shows. I saw one of those shows, and it was pretty damn good, but sitting near the top of the Oakland Coliseum surrounded by screaming young girls was definitely different than seeing him in the Arena, with a crowd that probably knew the words to every song.

As for the album, I've always thought that it was among his very best, and I'll continue to defend it now.  Would I put it above "Born to Run" or "Darkness on the Edge of Town?"  No.  But that's pretty heady company, and at the end of the day, it's hard to argue against the notion that with "Born in the U.S.A.," Bruce Springsteen achieved everything (and more) that he set out to accomplish.  As Christgau noted, it sounds great, which is as good a place as any to start.  There is no single track that reaches the level of "Born to Run," "Backstreets," "Badlands" or "The Promised Land," but neither is there a bad track on the album.  And while the music throughout is upbeat, the lyrics don't stray far from previous works - while you're tapping your foot to songs like "Darlington County" or "Working on the Highway," you might want to check out what those songs are about, and how they end. 

So no, it may not be his best - but it's certainly one of the best.

LP of the Week - "Wild Planet," The B-52s (1980)

"The world's greatest new-wave kiddie-novelty disco-punk band," Robert Christgau called them in 1980.  And while the novelty piece of that equation is fair, it's also fair to note that they're still around today, some 38 years after they first came together in Athens, Georgia during the year of our nation's bicentennial.  And that they've had precious few lineup changes over those years - the only permanent one being when guitarist Ricky Wilson died of an AIDs-related illness in 1985.  Keith Strickland, the original drummer who then assumed guitar man duties, no longer tours with the band, but still considers himself a full-fledged member.

"Wild Planet" was their second album, released just two weeks before I would leave home for college in September, 1980.  To be fair, it's not as good as their debut, but that's not much of a criticism, because the debut was an enduring masterpiece that remains one of the greatest New Wave albums ever released.  If the self-titled debut was an A+, the follow-up is no worse than an A-, and a lot of bands have done a lot worse than that.

The only thing that really distinguishes "Wild Planet" from the album that preceded it is the lack of a single track as strong as "Dance This Mess Around" and "Rock Lobster."  It's remarkably consistent, and yes, they were sticking to a formula, but you could sure do a lot worse than record and release an album that features 9 eminently danceable, fun tracks without ever missing a beat.  "Private Idaho" is probably the best song, but "Devil in My Car," "Quiche Lorraine" and "Strobe Light" come close.  There's a reason that the album was one of the staples of my Berkeley experience, and the band's near-universal appeal is the reason why so many people in our dorm were enthusiastic about attending the band's two Bay Area concerts during that time.

Rock on, dance on...it still sounds great today.

X-Men hit the mark again

The title may be a little clumsy, the plot may be a little complicated, and the whole enterprise may require more knowledge of the canon than most people could be reasonably assumed to have, but at the end of the day "X-Men: Days of Future Past" is an entirely satisfying comic book movie, one that builds on the promise of the "First Class" prequel while completely wiping the bad taste of "The Last Stand" from the memories of fans and movie-goers.

* Spoilers Be Ahead, Consider Yourself Warned! *

Similar to J.J. Abrams' first "Star Trek" movie, "Days of Future Past" uses time travel as a device, not just to bring the two X-Men casts together, but more importantly to reboot the series in such a way that anything that now follows can make sense (and be defensible to those who do have intimate knowledge of the canon).  Done poorly, that could have been a cheat, but like "Star Trek" it's done very well, and unlike the "Spider Man" franchise, which just seems to be telling the same story all over again (in fairness, I haven't seen the second one yet), it moves the story forward in a way that doesn't sacrifice continuity but also opens up entirely new avenues of story-telling.

As much as I love Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellen, in this film I have to give the Professor X/Magneto crown to James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender, which really isn't surprising given that the story gives them much more to do.  The old guys are definitely there for a reason; don't get me wrong, but aside from one wonderful moment near the end when the old friends/foes clasp hands while Magneto wistfully wonders why they've been fighting each other for the last 50 years, the best moments are given to McAvoy and Fassbender.  Professor X and Magneto are flip sides of the same coin, almost as if Two-Face was split into two people, and both actors do a fine job taking that dichotomy to a new level.

If you've been even remotely paying attention, you've heard about the story - mutants and humans are under siege in the future from the Sentinels, which are like mutant terminators, able to instantly modify their structure in such a way that makes them invulnerable to whatever mutant power they are facing.  The only hope is to send Wolverine (Hugh Jackman, great as always in the role but so jacked up that he looks to be auditioning for a new mutant, Veinburst) into the past to bring the good Professor and Magneto back together, to stop Raven/Mystique from killing Dr. Bolivar Trask, the inventor of the Sentinels (because killing him will ensure that his Sentinel project moves forward).  So back we go to 1973, and needless to say things don't go entirely as planned, and all the while the few mutants left in the future...well, let's just say that things are looking increasingly bleak for them.

Kudos to everyone involved, although as the villain, Peter Dinklage is given nowhere near enough to do.  If you've watched any "Game of Thrones" at all, you know what Dinklage is capable of, and unfortunately the Trask role comes nowhere near to Tyrion Lannister in terms of interest or charisma.  Evan Peters is great as Quicksilver, in an extended sequence that might be the best thing in the movie.  And the ending, which gives us a glimpse at several characters we thought we might never see again, carries a powerful emotional punch.

All in all, a job nicely done.  Very much so.

Indy 500

Ryan Hunter-Reay with the victory milk.

It clearly lacks the cultural significance it once held, but the Indianapolis 500 remains one of my favorite sporting events of the year.  I don't mind admitting that part of it is nostalgia; to this day I can clearly remember the day that Mario Andretti one his (and his family's) sole 500, I can remember listening to the great Johnny Rutherford-A.J. Foyt duel on the radio in 1974 (back in those days, the race was only shown on tape delay, in the evening), and I can remember most of the multiple wins from great drivers like Foyt and the Unser brothers.  And even though I've continued to watch every year, the drivers aren't the stars they once were - that role has (for the most part) been taken over by the superstars from NASCAR.

But I've always preferred Indy-car racing to NASCAR, and while I'm far from an expert on either, I don't know that I've ever seen a NASCAR race with the drama and excitement that we were treated to yesterday.  Multiple leaders, strategy in and out of the pits, very few mishaps...and then the spectacle (after one of those mishaps) of a 6-lap sprint to the finish, with three (or was it four?) lead changes taking place in those six laps.  Amazing, thrilling stuff, and while I was rooting for Marco Andretti to end the curse, I would have been happy with either Ryan Hunter-Reay or Helio Castroneves taking the milk.  Congratulations to Hunter-Reay, who is well spoken enough that he might just be the guy to steal some of those NASCAR fans back.

Springflix

This was supposed to be a monthly deal, but you know how it goes.  Quick, sometimes random thoughts on movies recently seen via Netflix or Netflix Streaming.

Sense and Sensibility.  Along with Joe Wright's "Pride and Prejudice," clearly the best Austen film adaptation.  Just about every note is perfect, from the interplay between Elinor Dashwood (Emma Thompson) and her sister Marianne (Kate Winslet), to the boisterous good humor of Sir John (the great, and still ticking, Robert Hardy), the graciousness and innocence of Edward (Hugh Grant), the honor of Col. Brandon (Alan Rickman) and even the droll impatience of Mr. Palmer (Hugh Laurie).  The scene where Elinor finally breaks down and confesses her broken heart to Marianne is nothing less than a classic.  Screenplay by Thompson and directed by Ang Lee, one of the best.

Much Ado About Nothing.  Because I slept through most of it the first time around, I was really happy to see this pop up on streaming.  It's great, and just might be the most important movie Joss Whedon (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Firefly, Dollhouse, The Avengers) has ever made.  I say that because I think it's great that Whedon is smashing barriers with this movie - showing the world at large that it is possible to make a high quality Shakespearean production for film, even if your background is in what a lot of people (not me) would consider "lesser" genres.  Anyone who's ever watched a Whedon show will recognize most of the actors, and it's clear that they are having the time of their lives.  They're all great, but for me the standouts were Alexis Denisof as Benedick, Amy Acker as Beatice, and Nathan Fillion as Dogberry.  And I want Joss Whedon's house.

Short Term 12.  Also a re-watch, but since I never got around to writing about it the first time around.   This is one of my favorite kinds of movie - a director and actors you've never heard of before, just knocking the ball right out of the park.  The movie is set in a temporary home for troubled youth, mostly foster youth, focusing not just on the kids who live there but also the young adults - some with their own troubles and problems - with the responsibility for managing their lives.  This one was brought to our attention by son #2, because the director (Destin Cretton) is a graduate of San Diego State (where son #2 is in the performing arts program) and brought a rough cut of the film for the students to view and critique.  Based on this, he has a long and successful career ahead of him.  Brie Larson is great as Grace, in a performance that in its impact reminded me of Jennifer Lawrence in Winter's Bone.

Nebraska.  I loved everything about this movie - the story, acting, soundtrack, glorious black and white cinematography...everything.  Alexander Payne's work clearly resonates with me, because I also thought his "The Descendants" was one of the best movies of recent years.  Bruce Dern deserved all the accolades, but Will Forte is also great as his suffering son, and yes, just like everyone said, June Squibb steals every scene that she is in.  Stacy Keach is suitably creepy as an old friend of Woody (Dern's character) who still is looking to be repaid for money lent decades ago, and the extended family is a hoot.

Thor: The Dark World.  Not the best comic book movie ever made, but it had its moments, mostly courtesy of Tom Hiddleston as Loki.  The plot really defies description, but the final battle scenes with Thor and the bad guy popping in and out of different dimensions/universes was really cool.

Saving Mr. Banks.  I'm told that I slept through a good portion of this one, but what I did see was pleasant enough.  I'm not really sure this story was demanding to be told, but the scenes with B.J. Novak and Jason Schwartzman as the Sherman brothers (with an assist from Bradley Whitford) were worth the price of admission.  You know, if we had actually paid for it.  Which I suppose we did, since we got it from Netflix.

Inside Llewyn Davis.  Seen it twice now, still not quite sure what the Coen brothers were trying to say, but enjoyed it both times.  Oscar Isaac really deserved an Oscar nomination (there's a joke in there, but I'll leave it alone) for his portrayal of Llewyn, and the Coens did a great job of recreating the feel of early sixties New York City.  And the music is good.

Dallas Buyers Club.  Don't get me wrong, McConaughey was great and deserved his Oscar, but I actually think he was better in "True Detective."  But this is a really good movie, and Jared Leto also deserved all the accolades and awards.  But once again, Jennifer Garner pops up in a supporting role, and just does wonders with it.  Maybe someday she'll get her due as well.

God Grew Tired of Us.  A well-made, heart-rending documentary about the lost boys of the Sudan, focusing on a handful of them who are able to immigrate to the United States and try to build lives of their own.  A good reminder of how much we take for granted in our day-to-day, "first world problem" lives.

Panic Room.  When this started I thought we were going to see Fincher's take on "The Shining," where the building was the most important character in the movie.  And that's sort of what happens, but once the plot kicks in it becomes more standard fare, with some pretty cliched bad guys.  But still, not a bad thriller - and the interplay between Jodie Foster and Kristen Stewart is very well done.

Rush.  I'd definitely put this in the top tier of Ron Howard movies, but unless you know something about Formula 1 racing and the history of James Hunt & Niki Lauda, it might be lost on you.  Nice job with the racing scenes, but also the characterization of the two drivers.

Captain Phillips.   Expertly crafted adventure/thriller, with a great performance from Tom Hanks.  His acting in the final post-rescue scene is probably the best acting I've seen all year. 

Sapphire.  A 1959 film set in London, focusing on the murder of a pregnant woman originally assumed to be white but later found to be of mixed racial origins.  According to Wikipedia it was considered very progressive for its time, and it is fascinating to watch it today - although I'm not sure it comes close to greatness.

About Time.  You either like Richard Curtis movies, or you don't.  But you pretty much know what you're going to get when you see one.  There's a formula, but "About Time" stretches it, and even though the time-travel premise is not one that you want to think about too much, it does provide for a few surprising developments.  Bill Nighy is great as always, and Domhnall Gleeson and Rachel McAdams do just fine in the Hugh Grant/pick your American female star roles.

To Rome With Love.  It would appear that I no longer know the difference between a good Woody Allen movie and a bad Woody Allen movie.  "Midnight in Paris" was supposed to be great, this one was supposed to suck, and "Blue Jasmine" was supposed to be great again.  But I liked 'em all about the same.  And nothing I just wrote is intended as commentary on the ongoing Allen/Farrow family saga.

Half Nelson.  Early, strong Ryan Gosling vehicle with him portraying a pretty screwed up junior high school teacher.  Good enough to take the taste of "Only God Forgives" out of my mouth.

The Fifth Estate.  Excellent performance by Benedict Cumberbatch (is there any other kind?) as Julian Assange, but a less than memorable movie.

I should also note that in between all of this, we watched the entirety of "Firefly," and its unlikely movie sequel, "Serenity."  They hold up well, and make one wonder what might have been...

The Durant Speech

In a week when Donald and Shelly Sterling were seemingly engaged in a contest to determine which of them was a greater embarrassment to the NBA community (or the human race, for that matter), we thankfully had one of the most remarkable speeches ever delivered by an athlete to take back the headlines.

It's long, but Kevin Durant's speech is worth watching in its entirety.  Worth it for the raw emotion, worth it for the graciousness he shows to every single one of his teammates, worth it for the love and respect shown to Russell Westbrook, his most important collaborator, and of course worth it for heartfelt and moving comments about his mother.

We'll never know for certain the role that the speech played in the Thunder's hard fought triumph over the L.A. Clippers, but it couldn't have hurt.  And while I still doubt their ability to win a seven game series over the remarkable San Antonio Spurs, I wouldn't count them out either.

In more ways than one, Kevin Durant has cemented his reputation this year as one of the all-time greats.  Well done.

LP of the Week - "Spectres," Blue Oyster Cult (1977)

You don't hear much about Blue Oyster Cult anymore, but they were a pretty big deal in the 70s.  I'm probably the type of fan that hard-core devotees would scoff at, because (along with a couple of million people) I jumped on the bandwagon when "Don't Fear the Reaper" hit the airwaves, and the album from which that song came, "Agents of Fortune," hit the top of the charts.  Christgau referred to that album as "the Fleetwood Mac of hard rock," and that's a fair description.

I'm confident that this puts me in the minority, but my favorite album of theirs was "Spectres," the follow up to "Agents" released in the fall of 1977.  The album may lack a single song with the power of "Reaper" (although "I Love the Night," a vampire tale that could be viewed as a sequel to the earlier song, comes close), but it's remarkably consistent, with all of the band's songwriters - Eric Bloom, Joe Bouchard, Albert Bouchard, Donald (Buck Dharma) Roeser, and Allen Lanier - contributing at least one strong tune.

The album's best known song, "Godzilla," opens the album and sets the tone of a band that isn't taking itself too seriously, despite their reputation.  "Golden Age of Leather" follows that, and is another example of the band, essentially, making fun of itself.  Other strong tracks include "Searchin' For Celine," "Fireworks," and "Goin' Through the Motions."  There really isn't a bad track on the album.

I saw them perform once, in the summer of 1979 on a double bill with the red-hot (at the time) Cheap Trick.  It was a good show, and I'm pretty sure some version of the group is still out there playing somewhere.  At the end of the day, Blue Oyster Cult may not have quite been Hall of Fame material, but they were pretty darn good.

The greatest week in NBA history?

Wow.  Just wow.

You could make the claim just for the games alone, which for the most part have been spectacular.  We're definitely at a point now where we can say that this is the greatest first round of the playoffs in NBA history - Five of eight series going to seven games, and one going to six that was just as dramatic as those five.  Close games, overtime games, games with controversial calls, games with amazing performances and games with head-scratching performances - this round has had it all, and now the only worry is whether the rest of the playoffs can possibly match it.

Oh, and then there was that little thing that Adam Silver did the other day - banning Donald Sterling for life.  He may, as Jimmy Fallon pointed out last night, look like the guy from "American Gothic" come to life, but with his decision this week, Adam Silver has cemented his position in sports history, after just a few weeks on the job.  If he isn't Sports Illustrated's Sportsman of the Year, then the magazine needs to really take a long and hard look at what that award is all about.

And yes, the afterglow of Silver's decision (and the decisive nature by which it was delivered) will dim with time, as people recognize that no, this in and of itself will not end racism in the NBA, and in fact could lead to a lengthy legal battle that lasts until well after Sterling has died.  Let's face it - we don't really know yet that Silver had any legal basis for what he did, although one can assume that the NBA legal staff spent a few hundred hours combing every nook and cranny of the NBA constitution and bylaws to ensure at the very least that they weren't standing on legal quicksand.  And yes, appearing in today's Sacramento Bee was an op-ed claiming that the "thought police" have won again, that Sterling had every right to hold whatever abhorrent beliefs he saw fit and still own (and make billions from) an NBA team.  And there is the very real issue of privacy, and whether we are all at risk of having our private comments thrown into the public domain because of the ability of today's technology to do just that.

But let's set those things aside for the moment.  What Adam Silver did this week was take a moral stand - he did what had to be done; he did what was right.  25 years ago, Greil Marcus wrote that a riot in San Francisco, lawless and dangerous as it was, was the only proper response on the night after Dan White was excused of his crimes.  This week, Adam Silver may not have had the legal basis to make the decision that he did.  But it was the only proper response, and for that he should be lauded.  He should be thanked.

LP of the Week - "Brotherhood," New Order (1986)

Back in 1980, when New Order rose from the ashes of Joy Division following the suicide of lead singer Ian Curtis, you could have gotten really good odds on whether there would still being a working band called "New Order" more than 30 years later.  But even though they've broken up a couple of times and made a couple of personnel changes, they're still out there, even releasing an album every few years.

What the band proved in the 1980s was that Joy Division was not a one-man show.  Rightfully so, that band has come to be associated with Curtis' dark, brooding and frankly scary vocals, but even then, the music was just as important to the sound of the band as the vocals and the words.  Wikipedia refers to New Order's sound as a synthesis of post-punk and electronic dance music, and while that is perhaps oversimplifying things a bit, it's essentially correct.

"Brotherhood" was their best album, the album where they sounded most human.  There isn't a bad track on the LP, but there are three standouts.  On the first side, "Broken Promise" builds to a climax of guitar feedback and pulsing bass and drums that still makes my heart race almost 30 years later, and on the album's closer "Every Little Counts," the band proves that yes, it does have a sense of humor  But the highlight of "Brotherhood" is the song that I'd argue is the best they ever did, and one of the greatest singles of any era you might be tempted to choose - "Bizarre Love Triangle."  Again, Peter Hook's pulsating bass drives the music, until the end when Gillian Gilbert lays down one of the most beautiful synthesizer lines in rock history.  It's one of those songs that, were it released today, would sound innovative, new and fresh.  Just like it did back then.

The band has released a number of compilations over the years, many featuring various remixes of their most popular songs.  But if you want to dive into New Order, "Brotherhood" is as good a place as any to start.

What Happens to the Clippers Now?

Right about now, Adam Silver has got to be wondering what he did to deserve this.  The NBA is in the midst of the greatest 1st round of playoff games in its history, and what could possibly turn out to be the single greatest round of playoffs of all time.  And then Donald Sterling has to go and drop a stink bomb on the whole thing.

One can make a strong argument that the NBA deserves it, for allowing Sterling to stink up the joint for upwards of three decades now.  I don't need to repeat what has been written in numerous other places, but you've got to wonder what was going through David Stern's head when he nixed the Chris Paul trade to the Lakers a couple of years back, which paved the road for Paul's trade to the Clippers.  Which turned the Clippers around, which paved the road for Doc Rivers to join the Clippers, which turned the Clippers into, for the first time in their history, a legitimate title contender.  And it's not as if Sterling was turning over a new leaf while all this was going on.

And if this first round has proven anything, it's that everyone (well, not Charlotte, and probably not Chicago) has at least a dreamer's chance to grab the trophy this year.

So what happens now?  Obviously, Sterling has to go.  But does the NBA have the ability to force him out?  That seems like a debatable and open question.  But for all intents and purposes, the Clippers ceased to be a viable entity the moment that the Sterling tape hit the airwaves.  The sponsors are bailing, the players are protesting (in their own way; I thought what they did yesterday with the inside-out warmup jerseys was simple and effective), the legends (both current and former) are calling for immediate action, and the President of the United States has weighed in.  One way or another, the Donald Sterling era is about to come to an end.

It'll be interesting to see what the NBA lawyers can come up with (and just why is the NBA constitution confidential, anyway?) in the way of leverage, but whatever it is it's not likely, in and of itself, to force Sterling out.  But come on - who is going to want to ever play for that team again under the current circumstances?  It'll be a minor miracle if this current Clippers team - the same Clippers team that blew out the Warriors by FORTY points the night before the tape hit the media, if you were paying attention - can suck it up and stay competitive in this round.  I know they want a title and that's the whole point of playing the game and what they've dedicated their lives to, but come on - this is a distraction unlike any other they've ever faced, or will ever face again.  It's not every day that your employer says something that makes it very clear that he views you as an inferior part of the human race.  I'd find that a little hard to overcome.

So will Magic prevail?  The Lakers legend owning the Clippers?  That would be entertaining, but I guess I have to ask out loud whether L.A. really needs two NBA teams.  I bet right now there are a lot of folks who would be very interested in seeing the Seattle Clippers set up shop.

What a disaster.  Here's hoping that Sterling just goes away.  Soon.

LP of the Week - "Red Headed Stranger," Willie Nelson (1975)

Listening to this record feels like falling into a time warp.  To call it spare in its sound hardly does it justice; it's practically primitive.  On some songs all you hear is Willie singing, accompanied by his guitar.  On others, there is Bobbie Nelson's piano, and every now and then you get a snippet of bass and drums.  For all intents and purposes, it's an old field recording.  It's the kind of record that sounds good with a few snaps and pops every now and then.

It's hard to imagine today, but there was a time when Willie Nelson was one of the great unsung musical heroes of our time.  He'd penned some famous songs ("Crazy" by Patsy Cline, for example), but for the most part, no one had ever heard of the guy.  That was certainly true when this record came out in 1975, and it's probably no coincidence that within three years, Nelson was a bonafide superstar.

It's a short album, and the bulk of the songs are covers - "I Couldn't Believe It Was True" by Eddy Arnold, "Blue Eyes Cryin' in the Rain" by Fred Rose, "Can I Sleep In Your Arms" by Hank Cochran among them - but the concept is all Nelson's.  The late, great critic Paul Nelson called it "a phonographic western" evoking the works of John Ford and "Shane," and described the narrative as follows:

The album traces the life of a Montana cowboy who finds his true love with another man, kills both of them and later another woman, then drifts through Denver dance halls into old age, forever unable to cut his early loss but managing in the final years of his life a moving, believable synthesis of all he has missed.

Not exactly cheerful stuff, and even in its music, the album is mournful for most of its running length.  But it's brilliant throughout - quite likely the greatest work that Nelson has produced.

Drive-By Truckers visit Sacramento

I think I've finally figured out where to place Drive-By Truckers in my personal music pantheon.  DBT is a band that in this century, has put together a catalogue that can really stand with any other artist over that period - "Southern Rock Opera," "The Dirty South," "Decoration Day," "Brighter Than Creation's Dark," "The Big To-Do," "Go Go Boots," and now "English Oceans" - there isn't a bad album in that bunch, and I'd argue that at least two are pretty damn close to being masterpieces.

But it's also pretty evident that DBT are never going to become huge stars; their albums are not likely to threaten multi-platinum status.  They're pigeon-holed as a "southern rock band," although if one takes the time to listen to the music and read the lyrics a little more carefully, it seems pretty clear (at least to this listener) that they transcend that label.  Their sound is rooted in the south, and you can't argue with the fact that so many of their songs address the south, but to call them just another southern band doesn't really do them justice.

For me, they've filled the spot in my pantheon that Warren Zevon held for so long.  An artist that you listen to and think "how can it be that everyone doesn't love this guy/band/artist?"  "Why aren't they superstars?"  "What's wrong with you people?"  But that's OK - they've carved out a spot for themselves, and anyone who's ever been to one of their shows knows how fiercely loyal their fans are.  So if they go down in history as one of those semi-popular, great bands that never quite hit the mainstream, that's OK with me.

So I got the chance to see them Friday night, for the second time, in a small venue (Ace of Spades) that really isn't much more than a glorified bar.  Which, come to think of it, is the perfect place to see a band like DBT.  As evidenced by the picture above, I was able to work my way right up to the front of the stage, within about 8 feet by the end.  Standing for close to four hours (Shovels and Rope, the opening act, started right at 8 and DBT didn't close out until almost midnight) didn't do much for my 54-year old bones, but I wouldn't have traded the experience for anything.

Of course, it was a great show, with both Patterson Hood and Mike Cooley in top form.  Cooley is the real star of the new album, and he shone on Friday night with his new songs from "English Oceans," including "Shit Shots Count," "Primer Coat," "Made Up English Oceans," and "Hearing Jimmy Loud, as well as some of his golden oldies like "Pulaski," "Zip City" and "Women Without Whiskey."  Hood was awesome as well, and even though the band has gotten smaller with the departures of bassist Shonna Tucker (replaced by Matt Patton) and guitarist John Neff, they still pack a sizable punch.  It's more of a rock guitar oriented sound now, without Neff there to pitch in on steel every now and then.  And that's OK because keyboardist Jay Gonzalez, as it turns out, plays a pretty mean guitar himself, and on several songs managed to play both.

Another great show, and hopefully there were at least a couple of folks there who'd never heard them before and are now converts.  Because once you get there, trust me - you're never not going to be a DBT fan.