Andrea cares about this way more than I do, although I find Kristen Stewart strangely alluring. Dakota Fanning, too, but for altogether different "strange" reasons.
David Cross—he of beloved and abbreviated classics Mr. Show and Arrested Development—released his first book last year, with an audiobook following quickly on its heels. Like David Sedaris and Barack Obama, Cross is one of those guys whose voice is such a part of his, well, voice that I'd never be caught dead reading his book. While there's a lot of throw-away material in the (audio)book—the never-ending "Cigar Corner" sections come to mind—the recording itself should have, at the very least, been nominated for a Grammy Award for Spoken Word or Comedy. Cross is fluid and conversational on the recording, as he is on stage, and little touches like Jon Benjamin (Archer, Dr. Katz) starting off the recording only to be interrupted a few minutes into the preface by David Cross, who was "late" to the studio, a list of potential quirks for film directors made into a song by Les Savy Fav, and repeatedly berating the audience for the lazy act buying (buying?) the audiobook make I Drink For A Reason the literary equivalent of a Charlie Kaufman film. Apparently, the Academy Of Recording Arts & Sciences didn't agree on two counts.
Hipp: JUST WANNA BE MYSELF Hipp: HEY YOU SAID YOUWOULD Hipp: LOVE TO TRY SOME Hipp: HEY YOU SAID YOU WOULD LOVE TO DIE SOME Andrea: What did I do by mentioning that song? Andrea: Did you see the photo my cousin Alison posted of five generations of our family? Hipp: Nope [Andrea shows me the picture.] Andrea: Crazy, right! How many people live to meet their great great grandchild? Hipp: Is she with everyone and yet not? Andrea: NO Hipp: Did she like Bush? Hipp: I'm going to listen to the entirety of Razorblade Suitcasebecause A. "Greedy Fly" and "Swallowed" are awesome, B. Sixteen Stone is not nearly as evocative of youth, although it's not far off, C. "Cold Contagious" was my fucking jam, D. I used to think "Straight, No Chaser" was dope, and I can't think of why, and E. there are way more weird insect references. Hipp: DRINKING KITCHEN PAINT? Andrea: I hated that record when it came out Hipp: You are a humongous asshole Andrea: Agreed Hipp: I seem to remember you coming around on it like two years after Andrea: NO. WRONG. Andrea: I sold it to Tunes and never looked back Hipp: You still don't like it? Andrea: I haven't listened to it in like 100 years Andrea: but I was rocking out to swallowed the other day Hipp: I don't know who you are anymore.
It's been a long-held belief of mine that most bands or artists have, at their core, a single thesis song, usually from another band or artist. For example, The White Stripes are basically a band formed around the thesis the Beatles provided with "Polythene Pam" on Abbey Road. Since I'm listening to (almost) nothing but Prince today, it's occurred to me that the now-dead Robert Palmer did the same thing. All of his singles (and for that matter, most of his output altogether) are based on a central thesis developed by another, much more talented musician.
I'm quite enjoying the second season of Extras, as well as the first three seasons of the Ricky Gervais Show on my iPod. My only problem is that after every show, the credits roll, and Cat Stevens' "Tea For The Tillerman" starts playing. And this is unacceptable because it is the Second Worst Song Ever Written. Stevens' voice is already questionable in front of a good song, like the one about the father & son, although the name escapes me. "Paternus & Offspring?" Nevermind. But in front of a really, truly obnoxious song, like "Tea For The Tillerman," it's unbearable. Not to mention the imagery of Yusef Islam singing it in traditional Islamic garb kind of supercedes the gruff songwriter image I should probably associate with the man and the music.
Still, it's not as bad as "Me & Bobby McGee." This is, in fact, the Worst Song Ever Written. Now, I know what you're going to say. You're going to say that you love that song. That's understandable because you're either a woman or my dirty hippie of a roommate. "Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose" is one of the least profound and compelling lyrics ever written and went unrivaled in that distinction until Linkin Park exploded into the mainstream like the water from Waco, Texas in "The End Of The Whole Mess."*
It also carries another distinction: "Me & Bobby McGee" is one of two never-fail songs that embolden and overjoy aging middle-aged unmarried women. I'm not kidding. If you want to earn a few quick bucks the next you're at a bar where a karaoke night is going on, follow these easy steps:
1. Wait for a middle-aged woman who is clearly not married and may possibly be a substitute art teacher.
2. Bet someone that she is going to sing "Me & Bobby McGee."
3. Collect your fucking money. Because she's going to fucking sing it.
A slight variation on this theme can be performed at open mic nights in suburban coffee shops or bars (urban areas and Christian coffee shops will muck up your success rate). If you see a woman, middle-aged, unmarried, possibly a high school English teacher, talking to the guy running the open mic, the following two things are going to happen when it's her turn to perform:
1. She is going to come to the microphone with a much younger man with a guitar. They are not in a relationship. She's just pathetic.
2. She is going to sing "Landslide."
So make your bets as early as you can. It's guaranteed to work. And remember, Cat Stevens wasn't wrongly detained. He was just detained for the wrong crime.
David Cross—he of beloved and abbreviated classics Mr. Show and Arrested Development—released his first book last year, with an audiobook following quickly on its heels. Like David Sedaris and Barack Obama, Cross is one of those guys whose voice is such a part of his, well, voice that I'd never be caught dead reading his book. While there's a lot of throw-away material in the (audio)book—the never-ending "Cigar Corner" sections come to mind—the recording itself should have, at the very least, been nominated for a Grammy Award for Spoken Word or Comedy. Cross is fluid and conversational on the recording, as he is on stage, and little touches like Jon Benjamin (Archer, Dr. Katz) starting off the recording only to be interrupted a few minutes into the preface by David Cross, who was "late" to the studio, a list of potential quirks for film directors made into a song by Les Savy Fav, and repeatedly berating the audience for the lazy act buying (buying?) the audiobook make I Drink For A Reason the literary equivalent of a Charlie Kaufman film. Apparently, the Academy Of Recording Arts & Sciences didn't agree on two counts.