I watched a local wrestling show on TV at 12:30 AM on a Saturday.

Previously on GCW!

Fat guys fight! Zomg a biker fat guy with a taser! And a man with a German accent?

A manager talks about opponents named THUNDERHORSE and CRITTER. And they're filming the backstage vignettes like TNA does.

Adam Roberts is an NWA belt holder. Sgt. Hammer is his opponent. Buff Bagwell is in the opening credits. So is Sgt. Hammer, who is a fun ripoff. MAD DOG DAN SAWYER and EL PROFESSOR are our announcers. (So, by definition, it is a Latin stereotype accent.)

JOHNNY SWINGER is in the first match. Johnny Swinger is still alive, guys. He looks in decent shape, maybe. He looks like a damned giant. This intro took a long ass time. His opponent is JOEY LIGHTNING from Birmingham. There's no ring intros? I'm lost.

A Beyond Ringside poster is seen. Good for Fast Eddie. Shoutout to David Smith.

OH, the intros are after they come out. That's a very cool touch. And cool cheap pops for the Bama boy Lightning. GCW has already got some things right. The film quality to it is really cool, much better than the last local wrestling show I remember seeing forever ago. Also, they either hired short refs or tall wrestlers. That's a fine fine touch to make them look larger than life. Basic start, Swinger knows how to go on auto-pilot, it seems. I'm seriously not telling you all the moves, since I don't know them and this would be the most boring recap ever, for serious.

OH SHIT, OLD GUY NAMED PEANUTS. He's yelling at the heel. The match is still some rather basic submissions. It's oddly very AWA TV opener. El Professor with the absurd nut shot followup, “This will not make Mrs. Lightning very happy.” I don't think a single person in this crowd knows who Swinger is, though. And an Alabama joke! “I saw Ruben Studdard at the Piggly Wiggly, he had a gallon of potato salad.”

Johnny Swinger has clawed the back. It's 12:43 AM and we're still on the opener. The ref's name is Rob Russo and I don't think I've heard a Vince Russo joke yet, which might be for the best. Joey's a young fella who has potential. He reminds me a lot of Kenny King, actually. A couple years and a more fun name and you never know. And a heel turn, maybe. And a ref sees the handful of tights! Non-incompetent refs?

And Joey Lightning gets a fast count with a win at 12:47 AM. A bit of an anticlimax, doesn't really put over either man, but that's cool regardless, since there seems to be a ref storyline. Oh, El Professor has a mask on as he commentates. I'm a bit disappointed Tuscaloosa didn't buy into the last show here, I think this would be totally fun to watch in person. Sadly, me and David Smith might be the only attenders.

I have no idea what this abstract advertisement with lightning, drowning, old people, and the Gulf Coast has to do with anything. It appears to be a film trailer for a company called Roaring Creek Films, who must have something to do with the camera work. This is all GCW-based ads, by the way. This is considered a “paid program,” so all of the ads are paid for in advance.

Johnny cuts a promo, a conspiracy promo. He is doing a storyline with anger for Russo. The ref, not the booker he might've dealt with in TNA. He ends with a catchphrase, “Swing Time.”

And Fast Eddie Layne is the commish. And he passively-aggressively notes his dislike of tasers, so something is happening. He is not fining anybody, but there would be repercussions for tasers. Because they're electric shock! And a plug for the Graysville show! And a Pell City plug!

And we have “Ask El Professor.” This is basically the “Ask the Divas” segment except this is trying to be humorous. He suggests smashing the window for a girl. He has a Twitter! I'll have to send him one question for next week. Something about pants.

It is 1:00 AM and we get a ref Rob Russo interview. This might be a little poorly paced, but this at least keeps the storylines succinct. And we're getting our main event next, so the pacing is better than thought. So basically, there are two storylines.

Still, it does seem a bit off that we've had only three in-ring people involved in the last 25 minutes. Least this isn't Impact, though.

A repeat of the film company ad.

The main event is for the GCW HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE. This seems to be getting some time, too. There's 25 minutes. The Pell City show promotes BULLET BOB and BRAD ARMSTRONG in ring action. Bob Armstrong is pushing 70. What balls he has. Or lack of brains. Or lack of funds.

Sgt. Hammer is a heel, I suppose. Rather interesting to have a sergeant heel in Alabama. And a friendly black guy without dancing or rapping as a gimmick win the first match. Maybe times have changed?

SGT. HAMMER has the longest entrance ever. It is 1:08 and he is now ready. And he's yelling to the fans. ADAM ROBERTS is the holder of “Ultimate NWA Championship.” It took 40 minutes to find out that the annoying manager from the first segment was called The Equalizer. I presume Adam Roberts is not winning this belt. And there's a fat guy in a suit and a mask! (Howard C. Cross is his name, apparently.) Wrestling is great sometimes.

Oh, Rudy Charles is the ref! I legit want to meet him. Seems like a nice guy, and knows his shit about how to play incompetent well, which is something refs should do.

1:12 AM, the belt is raised and the match is on until end of television time. I'm surprised this isn't a brawl start, but we'll see where it goes. Zbyszko stalling and taunts with a couple of grapples but nothing match. Certainly paced like a main event. Lots of Roberts kicks and punches and so on. And weird punches by him. A bit weak, honestly. A post shot rather early. “A nice slam on the concrete floor.” This is a gym floor, which makes me smile, so hopefully there's a little give, please. Please guys, don't be stupid with the bumps.

This is all within five minutes of the match, by the way.

“Just sitting right there on the meniscus,” Sawyer says.

Lots of post shots and a case shot. A bit too much heel beatdown although nice babyface fire.

“Let's see how high Rudy Charles can count!” El Prof says.

Heel case shots while the ref is turned and the Hammer wins. I suppose there's a final angle coming, since this is 1:23 AM.

Or not? We're back in the commentary booth and we're going off the air. Next week will have MEAN MIKE POSEY. Yes, I think that's the former WWE ref. And the GCW Tag Titles on the line. This is as easy as some of the WWECW shows, so I think I'll come back next week. Nothing mindblowing or anything, but simple local wrestling's got a place on my TV.

WWE: The Best of Smackdown - 10th Anniversary 1999-2009

Why Sonic Changed Dynamic Storytelling

Let's go back a bit here. It's the mid-90s, the console wars between Nintendo and SEGA are raging. Soon, SEGA would try hard as hell to take out Nintendo for good with its Saturn system, and was actually outright winning the fight with the Super Nintendo, even by a paltry close margin. This leads to Sonic vs. Mario and numerous battles detailed a thousand times, so we'll simply note the basics.

Sonic The Hedgehog's release in 1991 was finally something that kickstarted a real console war between the two companies, and all on a dynamic that took a lot from 1985's Super Mario Brothers. You jump through levels, fight creatures that can only be killed with a little bashing on their heads, and fight an insular boss that still somehow manages to be intact after every fight en route to ultimate victory. I suppose the only difference is that Mario wanted to get laid (and save the kingdom) and Sonic wanted to save the kingdom (and I don't know what else). Still, there are obvious similarities to the point that SEGA's own attempt to make a Mario clone in 1992, Kid Chameleon, was readily ignored because it wasn't even as good and casual as Sonic, much less Mario.

This dynamic was added on to with 1992's Sonic The Hedgehog 2, introducing Tails as the Luigi of the team, even though he was made to look radically different than the top hero in Sonic and has the all-important power of flight (and being able to fly airplanes). Still, the plot is made the same. The player is to take out the evil Dr. Robotnik and go through various wacky levels yet again. The final boss is more audacious, of course, which naturally means the team paid attention to the “bigger and better” mantra of Hollywood sequels. The game was a better playing game as far as pacing goes, but the plot never changed, which seems silly for platformers to do, but might be why I felt it should be my favorite of the series. But I really never bought what I thought. I wondered what in all was missing. After all, Sonic 2 was the embodiment of my childhood and a game that I legitimately love to this day. Even the multiplayer modes (well, two-player modes) are extremely competitive and fun a good two decades after its release.

Sonic The Hedgehog 3 and Sonic and Knuckles also trouble me, but in differing ways. They are truly groundbreaking endeavors in one respect alone, the art of video games and platform storytelling. One new character is introduced in the two games, the red echidna Knuckles. Unlike Tails, Knuckles is the villain to Sonic. Or at least he comes off like the villain. Instead of sole enemies, Sonic 3 and S&K end up finding a way to twist the story. Knuckles is a bad guy who turns good (a heel face turn), Dr. Robotnik may or may not be a deceived pawn of Dr. Eggman. The time continuum of both Sonic and Knuckles' quest are supposedly different (well, if we're explaining the plot via the Japanese manual). And, oh yeah, no one speaks. No characters talk at all during the entire game.

All of these things are fascinating to me because they appear in a non-RPG atmosphere. They appear in the atmosphere of (for its time) the most mainstream game that there is. This is not a Kid Chameleon situation where the game is trying so hard to be something that it throws everything against the wall and ultimately it is played by a mere few. No, this is the most popular game not named Mario on the other side of one of the most famous gaming conflicts in history. More importantly, this is a situation where it doesn't affect how casual audiences view the series.

The preoccupative reason Sonic became less and less of a mainstream icon as the years went by is squarely based in storytelling (although, the logistics of losing a war to Sony and Nintendo are not exactly helpful). The series began abandoning the idea of “keep it simple, stupid.” Chaos along with more and more silly characters destroyed the purpose. While yes, Mario did the same thing, Mario still kept the focus on Mario whereas games like Sonic Heroes almost completely ignore Sonic as a sole character. (We could also go into the mediocrity of any Sonic spinoff projects, but that's beating up on one icon too much.)

Nonetheless, in every field, there is the real pioneering point and then the mainstream establishment of a storytelling arc. Gone With The Wind is not a pioneer in the form of the epic, Pet Sounds wasn't the first album to have an amazing album feel, and The Honeymooners certainly wasn't the first sitcom. However, they all are mainstream touchstones. That is why we have to note when mainstream products go through a dynamic story that changes the arc. Now, don't make anything out of the comparisons above, the story of Sonic is nothing compared to the following works. But on its own, it created entertainment in the same fashion while adopting a change that eased gamers into the Mass Effects and Heavy Rains of the world, film-like endeavors that play out like movies and are actually outright beloved and embraced by the mainstream. And maybe, in its own way, Sonic The Hedgehog led to this.

Wrestling and the Shakespearean Tragedy

As I write this, in three days is one of the biggest niche events of the spring. Over one million people will buy the event and 70,000 people will fill Phoenix for the express purpose of watching Vince McMahon's megalo-creation WrestleMania 26. And yes, they'll watch guys throw worked punches and win pre-determined contests.

But no one brings up the story arc of these cards, because often, the story arcs of professional wrestling tend to make either simplistic sense or are nonsensically complicated. But no one would ever call the work Shakespearean.

What has been billed as the top match on Mania 26 is a contest between two men in their mid-40s who have given decades of work to the business. The Undertaker vs. Shawn Michaels actually took place at last year's event and was a workrate spectacle. However, the story was ultimately rather simple. Shawn wanted Taker's winning streak at the pay-per-view (at the time, 16-0, an unprecedented run even in a worked business simply because top stars often lay down for the three count at Mania), and Taker wanted to defend it. A story like this totally works for the match, but it is rather simple. The psychological aspects of characterization are not totally drawn in with the conflict in the first instance.

Skip to 2010 and the rematch storyline that has developed. It only came out of Shawn's initial desire to simply have another match with a shot of breaking the streak (and possibly taking Taker's title) that he would earn a shot. This is no different than the average wrestling storyline to the point of boredom. We see the dynamic of champions and of guys wanting to beat other guys all of the time, in and out of sport. It's pretty simplistic and pro wrestling is intended to be dramatic.

By February, the build for this really came together in the truest of ways. A streak vs. career match formed with Michaels promising to "end his career" should the moment come that he loses to the Undertaker at Mania. But more of this came from the genesis of Michaels' emotions. Michaels is considered probably the best wrestler of his generation, if not of all time, simply because every aspect of his work is crisp, amazing, and -- for lack of a better term -- real. He works because he feels real in every aspect, and he exposes his own human doubt. Instead of seeming like a cocky caricature or an elongated superhero, he is merely human.

Michaels noted in a promo cut to build the Mania 26 match, "If I can't beat you, Undertaker, I have no career." And this is where the tragic aspect meets itself. Shawn is entirely obsessed with breaking the streak, almost inhumanly. The storyline setup could be made into something silly, but Shawn's acting shows that even with all of the titles, the achievements, and the success he has had, he is not satisfied. The streak could mean anything, because Shawn's lack of satisfaction and insecurity speaks volumes.

Even without a long speech, that last line is tragic. This is why Shawn is so good when he has to express something that is not heavyhanded. Early last year, WWE fans were told that Shawn Michaels was "broke," a desperate effort to play off the circumstances of the economy. But that did not work because no one buys Shawn as poor. However, Shawn never seems comfortable about his own career. In real life, he was an asshole for a good part of said career and arguably only became a star because of underhanded behavior. This did not stop the quality of work he brought to the ring, but he has had to overly apologize for his past transgressions. So him being uncomfortable about what he has accomplished over what he feels he "hasn't" is an emotion that can be bought. Shawn isn't an everyman, but he is human.

Moreover, his opponent is a man named The Undertaker. Ralph Ellison even couldn't write blunt symbolism like that. It is like the also blunt symbolism that humanity can never overcome the supernatural or a power bigger than themselves. In this case, it is a man who revels in being "undead."

There is only one way for this match to end on Sunday, Shawn has to lose. It may not entirely be the coda to a career (this is pro wrestling where retirement stips tend to be like Michael Jordan retirements), but it is the story that has to be made out of this. After all, we all one day are going to rest in peace.

Anatomy of a Match: Vladimir Kozlov vs. Ezekiel Jackson

This will likely be posted by my dear friends at Kick-Out!! Wrestling sometime soon, but I thought to post it here because I wanted to correct a few errors in present/past tense and because I am lazy and don't write much.

While the date of this entry makes the history of this and when this occurred completely obvious to the usual fans of this site, I feel a need to explain this for the rare chance that ten years from now, someone needed the proper context for a bad match between two hosses. One night before January 5th, 2010, Total Nonstop Action Wrestling managed to make a show much like the TNA of old and yet one that still stunned wrestling fans into believing in competition. While criticism grew beyond tired for smarks in noting the staleness of WWE's programming, they began to have a point. No match on Monday Night Raw was better than TNA Impact's main event, and Raw also took away its best performing heel and had a rising star leveled one more time.

Meanwhile, ECW, the third brand of WWE, had been criticized as highly irrelevant. Similar to how the worst criticism of wrestling could be to be considered boring, the worst type of criticism to a wrestling show is to be considered irrelevant. Even with potential stars of tomorrow like Yoshi Tatsu (time will tell, of course, if he got big or if he became the next Funaki), the show felt bogged down by luminaries like Vance Archer and Abraham Washington. And on a show that was mostly entertaining, ECW had the need to produce potentially the worst match of the decade.

The logistics of a feud between evil foreigner Vladimir Kozlov and really big black dude Ezekiel Jackson are superfluous. It is also superfluous to mention that Kozlov was the evil foreigner babyface and Jackson the heel due to siding with uber-heel William Regal, who naturally has no hand in this match, either. It is more superfluous to mention that these two met in two previous matches, one on ECW that lasted two minutes and produced the purpose to side Regal with Kozlov, at least attempting some sort of storyline purpose. The second match was surely to finish the feud. So naturally, they needed a third match.

Jackson and Kozlov was an unmitigated failure in all extents.

Being the third confrontation, no human on earth would want to see these two meet again because they had already found out the answer to“What would a match between these two big bastards look like?” Kozlov had no change in his mannerisms, essentially making the match into heel vs. heel, which no wrestling fan ever really reacts to unless it is of top stars they want to cheer. (As of note, Jackson and Kozlov were jobbers to the stars of the third brand at this point, losing to tag teams featuring Shelton Benjamin and Yoshi Tatsu.)

Zeke was green to the gills at this point, being that he'd only really wrestled for less than a year on television. Kozlov was legendarily bad to smarks, being that he became infamous for a match he had on pay-per-view with Triple H in 2008. Many a rant had been made on his apparent lack of talent in the year after, until he was shipped to ECW in 2009 and it was an afterthought that he was even on the roster. Needless to say, neither man had the ability to keep a sense of intrigue in the match.

Moreover, it failed in the extent of time and crowd reaction. A bad match usually makes minutes feel like hours. A six minute match between the two felt like days, as the silence of the crowd made all the more obvious the disappointment inside the ring. Chants like “We want Regal” echoed from the halls as brief shots showed the 41-year-old veteran yelling things like “Finish him!” A brief chant of “USA” bellowed, more hilarious because Jackson hailed from Ghana, Regal hailed from England, and Kozlov hailed from happy Russia. And also because Kozlov was the babyface.

One night after facing a show that was not entirely good, but still entirely relevant to the wrestling world, WWE responded in kind by putting on a mostly good show, and yet failing because someone booked Kozlov vs. Jackson again. The sorry taste it left this wrestling fan was a bit much. I most likely watched a lot of wrestling since this point, and I hopefully never saw such a stinky encounter again. Hopefully.

The Top 20 Records of 2009: 11 to 1! (Part 2!)

11. Mariachi El Bronx - Mariachi El Bronx


The best punk rockers on an album this year is this mariachi record. Wait, what? LA-based The Bronx take a detour from putting out a lot of fun but dark rock for an extremely upbeat and almost serene mariachi record. After the surreality of the work is settled, there is a lot of fun to be had. Vocalist Matt Caughthran has to earn credit for going from his trademark yelping to reveal a very solid singing voice. Listen to "Litigation" for some serious happiness, or listen to a couple of songs to understand the pure fun of this record.

10. The XX - XX


While it would seem like sex's taboo and the success of rock through the ages is viewing sex as a mechanical response, art has had a longer history of sex as emotion. All too often, the art is minimalist, as is the case of Japanese poet Ono no Komachi's poem "Autumn Nights." "Autumn Nights" refers to a one night stand that merely ends. Her work, in a few stark lines, occupies both the passion and emotion of eroticism, as well as the mechanical emptiness it underlies.

She seems to have kindred spirits in the strangest of places in Londoners The XX. All of XX is purposefully empty. There's a lot going on underneath the periods of silence throughout the record, including possible periods of warmth on album standouts like "Heart Skipped A Beat." The warmth of the human touch is evident on "Shelter," which says so much in female co-vocalist Romy Croft's asking, "Can I make it better, with the lights turned on?" And once again, emptiness plays a part in even that. Croft's vocals belie a sense of desperation to make this work for longer than a night, to not merely be an act of spontaneity. But by the end, it just doesn't work out. The spontaneous and the rational are not entirely the best of friends.

9. Andrew Bird - Noble Beast


It is hard for me to pinpoint why Andrew Bird's cooing tunes are fascinating, but not quite perfect, although I've attempted to do it before. The Chicago multi-instrumentalist is the only man ever who makes the whistle into a non-annoying instrument, but that statement doesn't really do justice to his music. Neither does noting that he graduated as a music major in college, although his love of the violin does add to the easy beauty of Noble Beast.

Maybe it is the wordplay of Mr. Bird, although, he entirely forgoes trying to interpret what exactly he is doing with his words. I interviewed Andrew Bird for a piece I worked on in September, and he noted (in a line that I stupidly did not include), "Words are just sounds we make with our mouths." Even way out of context, it sounds like he really just loves the verbiage he makes because it sounds good, and that the language he, I, and you use is ultimately not the point. He loves reading, he loves words, but the meaning is a little useless after a while. A fair point, and a fine reason that would describe the lack of verbalizing one could do here. The music's just really great. Nothing more is needed.

8. St. Vincent - Actor


Annie Clark's spontaneous insanity is inspiring and unattainable. The multi-instrumentalist who plays under the pseudonym of St. Vincent just runs on spontaneity in the creation of her music, which is evident from a listen to "Your Lips Are Red" from 2007's Marry Me. In the song, she throws in an amazing horn section and some lovely guitar noodling that progressively gets more chaotic. Actor does this trick at least once on "Marrow" and it still works. Clark is a musical charmer, coercing a lot of fresh energy from her thin frame and making herself the most intriguing female musician to watch since Karen O.

There's also the genius of making a soundtrack to a movie that doesn't exist. Not only that, the album itself is an all over the place narrative that is not quite clear, but fascinating. Songs like "The Bed" and "The Party" are fun narratives on mystery and detail further supplanted with appropriately moving music. And because of this, the narratives and the album are both somehow more beautiful in the process. Something is clearly ticking in Annie Clark's head, and all that comes out of it is just gorgeous to listen to.

7. Grizzly Bear - Veckatimest


It is kind of redundant to say that Grizzly Bear had a big year, if you pay attention to the internet in any way, shape or form. Grizzly Bear's Veckatimest shocked many with a top ten debut on the Billboard album charts upon its release in June, similar to the breakout success of Neon Bible in 2007. And it likely won't impress the indie genre's naysayers as far as it being a soft, not totally knockout album on first listen. However, this is an amazing album to digest. It is more accessible than the previous record, Yellow House, but that doesn't mean it is totally easy to understand.

After a few listens, the record actually gets hypnotic to its listener, though. Veckatimest has the amazing "While You Wait For the Others" on its tracklist. It says a lot that the same words can be sung in the low-key tone of vocalist Ed Droste and in the showy voice of Michael McDonald (who seriously sings the whole song on the single) and the message is just as haunting in either form. This is the hallmark of a great song on a great album. "I Live With You" is haunting in technicolor. "Two Weeks" is haunting and fun (and the closest to a pop hook here). "Southern Point" is haunting and continuous. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

6. Neko Case - Middle Cyclone


After being in the best collective of the decade, and making some of the finest songs of the decade, Neko was pretty well set to coast through the rest of the decade. So naturally, the redhead's Middle Cyclone might be the best complete work she's ever done, and there is no sign of coasting at all. The alt-country titan makes more evocative songs that just feel organic. And her voice lets a weight carry on every word. She lets words like "I dragged the clanging notion I was nobody" hang in the air with just the right amount of impact. She is not too light, not too heavy, and the Virginian knows how to belt a chord and weave a folk tale.

5. Lily Allen - It's Not Me, It's You


Pop music sucks. It always does. It always comes to a point to where it always sounds trite (even if most music is written without the lyricist's feelings in mind because most people cannot relate to millionaires). And yet it is always impressive when pop music feels personal and accomplished, as well as pretty damn fun to listen to. Lily Allen's followup to the very cute Alright Still is just this. It's Not Me, It's You sounds like a dance hall record made by a personal spirit. It purposefully undercuts its mechanical exterior for a person who maybe wants to admit that she likes relationships for the sex, and without it, she's pretty disappointed. ("Not Fair") She dissects the famous pop stars around her while analyzing her own self in the process in a meta fashion. ("The Fear") She didn't like President Bush. ("F-ck You")

The dance hall success could be attributed to going for more of a sound akin to Ladyhawke, who made one of the best pop albums of last year simply by being awesome in her first four tracks. And obviously, Allen's bite is still there. She is a perfect pop contradiction. In a genre where less and less of the job of the artist is to be naked and exposed, Allen's willing to admit that she's a screwup, and that she is awesome because of it. Bravo.

4. Raekwon - Only Built for Cuban Linx, Part II


Rap music sucks. It always finds a way to embrace everything idiotic and ignore the intelligence of its parts, and it has seemingly lost its way in figuring out intriguing narratives that truly breathe on wax and only on wax. The mainstream embraces swag and the garbled language of a Lil' Wayne while it nearly forgot the greatness of Wu Tang. In 2009, Raekwon created one of the tightest narratives in hip-hop, a street story that cannot be emulated in any other genre. It might be a bit too much of a takeoff of Clipse's Hell Hath No Fury and its stream of consciousness drug narrative (which was inspired from the first Only Built for Cuban Linx), but Raekwon is on point throughout Cuban Linx.

The detail is not skimped on, either. Ghostface Killah makes many appearances throughout Cuban Linx, including an appearance on "Gihad" where he describes fellatio with the same amount of gusto that most would give to writing a novel. And it isn't done with a bit of change in vocal tone or a child-like excitement to it, either. (This is similar to Raekwon's appearance on Blakroc, where he says "I'm ready to come, she lookin' at me with a relevant stare" with the same amount of lazy admittance. He is unphased by anything, including sex with a woman.) He revels in concepts like re-doing the Wu Tang Clan, robbing the neighborhood, bagging crack, and creating "black Mozart shit" with the same type of calm. All of the cameos on Cuban Linx have a link to old school Wu, and everyone, even the more obscure Inspectah Deck, is totally on point. Maybe Raekwon just knew he would make the best rap record of 2009.

3. Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion


After the trippy pop Panda Bear created on his 2007 solo masterpiece, Person Pitch, the growing cult of Animal Collective continued to escalate. After under-the-radar releases like Sung Tongs and Feels, the attention elicited to Strawberry Jam, Water Curses, and their 2009 release Merriweather Post Pavilion showed a night-and-day reaction upon release. Merriweather has already been hailed a classic by the internet. I doubt it, but I don't deny that this is one of the most unexpected releases of the year. Much like the guys in Grizzly Bear, Panda Bear is a shocking pop tunesmith. (If "I just want four walls and adobe slats for my girls" isn't the accidental hook of the year, I'm dying to know what is.)

I doubted its goodness, too. I hated this record on first listen. I didn't understand its noise. But naturally, it is really awesome. Much like the silly (but trippy) cover art, it is entirely meant for a specific appreciation at certain points. "Daily Routine" is going to catch you off guard, and so is "In The Flowers." It will be danceable, and it will be shockingly great.

2. Art Brut - Art Brut vs. Satan


Eddie Argos is probably my favorite person on the music scene right now, and it is probably hard to describe why. To simply say that he is an earnest musician is under-cutting his impact. To say that he is completely spontaneous is not entirely true; a lot of his mannerisms and stage banter is clearly thought about in advance. But I figured out what it was: He is the musician who seems completely awesome and of a different plain, but naturally he is truly just a guy. He doesn't try to pretend that he is an amazing tunesmith and just thinks what he says. Everything he writes down on paper seems like a legitimate concern on the day it was written and is representative of that day alone. Bang Bang Rock and Roll revels in a brash young attitude, It's A Bit Complicated pries through the paranoia of life going right, and Art Brut vs. Satan replenishes the man-child persona and glee of Eddie's voice. He hates science museum rock, but dreams of the day that ART BRUT will defeat Satan. He doesn't like the glut of Brian Eno-produced work because it is repetitive, but he offers to bang it out within a couple of days, faults and all adding to the charm. And he gets Frank Black to produce it all! How is this not one of the best records of the year solely based on the happiness of it all!?

1. Vivian Girls - Everything Goes Wrong


Innocence is always fleeting. The concept of innocence involves a certain degree of ignorance about the world around you. Obviously, we do not entirely have the rationale of children in our present lives (or do not have the exuberance of children at least, even if our behavior still exhibits immaturity). And the saddest moment of life is probably the loss of innocence.

The Vivian Girls' self-titled debut is entirely designed in a world of innocence. With the rush of garage rock splintering the ears, the soft female touch belies the happiness of youth, of first romance, and of the impending doom to come when the rush of happy emotion is shattered. Everything Goes Wrong is the embodiment of the shattered youth. Loneliness, nervousness, and tears rush in instead. "Walking Alone at Night" is the opening track and "Before I Start to Cry" is the closing track. None of these songs are happy, and yet still flow with rushed spirits. Excluding an amazing breakdown for "Tension," the album blitzes from track to track, and things feel the same as before. The music sounds almost exactly alike to the debut. However, something is different about the girls. They never really change, they will always be the same people, but the world that they know is lost to them. Their first brush with the sadness of real emotion does make them change, or at least see that the innocence is gone.

The Top 20 Records of 2009: An ongoing list of irrelevant proportions that will create fighting arguments in its readers: Part 1

This is a list I crafted out of stone and clay, even though all of the listening took place on modern technology using modern methods. Soundtracks are being excluded, because it doesn't seem an accurate way to judge the singularity of the word, although Dark Was the Night and the New Moon soundtrack (yes, seriously) deserve props for being fine aural listens. Also, here's a lot of critically acclaimed albums that will miss the list either by my lack of good consumption of their contents, or because they weren't that good.

Missed Records (by record title): Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix (Phoenix), Wilco (The Album), March of the Zapotec/Realpeople Holland (Beirut), Why There Are Mountains (Cymbals Eat Guitars), Post-Nothing (Japandroids), Phrazes for the Young (Julian Casablancas), Together Through Life (Bob Dylan), Stir the Blood (The Bravery), Outer South (Conor Oberst), Tonight: Franz Ferdinand, Album (Girls), Vapours (Islands), Watch Me Fall (Jay Reatard), Octahedron (The Mars Volta), etc.

With this in tow, we begin the crevices of my top twenty:

Honorable Mention. Blakroc - Blakroc

This spot was the most contested out of all of the spots on my list, because it seems to be my "there's a few really awesome songs" spot, which could have went to the Brit insanity of The Big Pink or to the hilarious Peaches, or even to that Muse record from this year that I didn't much like as a whole. However, Blakroc, the genesis of garage rockers The Black Keys, wound up being the most fascinating concept of the bunch.

Blakroc is essentially the members of the Black Keys backing up rappers from Raekwon to Mos Def to Jim Jones (who is remarkably still alive post-"We Fly High"). This record stands out because of the pure awesomeness of two whole songs in the brew of Raekwon's contribution "Stay Off the F-ckin' Flowers" and Mos Def's "On the Vista."

"Stay Off" plays with Raekwon's amazing sense of rap narrative, which he blissfully gave us a lot of on his Only Built For Cuban Linx..., Part II from this year as well. However, the way Raekwon's lazy lackadaisical draw perfectly meshes with the laid back stoner rock provided behind him makes the track perhaps his best of the year including much of Cuban Linx's material. We'll get to such debates later, but this earns its place on one mere glimpse of Raekwon's simple mid-fellating dialogue which he then note his girl is "lookin' at me with a relevant stare."

"On The Vista" is trippy indie with Mos Def, which seems to make either no sense or complete sense depending on your level of fandom for Def's career output. However, this is a spectacular careen where Def's words eventually become trite whispers towards the end of his "total control" as he is laid out on the vista. Obvious drug metaphors surround the song's sunny vibe and Def is on fire, also the second time he creates studio magic in 2009.

Unfortunately, a lot of stuff does not work on Blakroc. Efforts involving Nicole Wray never work out quite right, and the other songs never match the peaks. But those peaks just have to be scaled and heard.

20. The Von Bondies - Love, Hate, and Then There's You

In a scant five years, the Von Bondies finally found a way to return to the studio and release this record. They are no longer backed by a major label (most of the reason for the delay in release involves their release from Sire Records). However, they have only furthered the extent of their garage-pop, taking their efforts to producer Butch Walker and creating one of the more fun expeditions of sound seen in the past year. While it's hard to view the record as knockout spectacular, its success is reared by the catchy gems of "The Chancer" and "21st Birthday" as well as the lovable nature of its contents.

19. Kid Cudi - Man on the Moon: The End of Day

If you spoke to me in the first half of the year about hip-hop, I would be about as bad as every pasty-faced lover of a genre telling stories they can't comprehend. I would ask "Hey, where's Pete Rock and the Digable Planets these days?" I would wonder when they let the embrace of cool music die and turn into repetitive beat structures that I couldn't stand listened to by people that I also couldn't stand (white guys in polos). And I would realize that I wasn't looking hard enough and needed to keep searching, which would lead to the cycle of thought again. By the second half of the year, though, the music returned.

Everything on Kid Cudi's album is musical ear candy, from surprising production from MGMT and Ratatat to "Make Her Say" having a gorgeous sample of a piano-based version of Lady Gaga's "Poker Face." The embrace of indie pop and Kanye West-esque musical backing is a total charm, and Cudi's flow fits effortlessly with the music. However, Cudi also seems simplistic throughout the album. We seem to figure out in fifty minutes what could be said in roughly three sentences: Kid Cudi was a lonely dreamer in high school. Kid Cudi likes sex with women. Kid Cudi is stoned and famous now.

In that sense, this record is both a pleasing record and a massive disappointment at once. Cudi doesn't go any deeper than his mainstream contemporaries in subject matter, and yet embracing acts like Ratatat seems poised to adding an interesting bend to hip-hop. Additions like Luke Steele to Jay-Z's record or even innovations like Jon Brion producing Kanye's Late Registration a few years back are changing the genre for the better, and Man on the Moon is at least a partial attempt to innovate.

18. Morrissey - Years of Refusal

Morrissey isn't really that depressing of a man. Sure, his concept and songs are entirely based on the cryptic emotions of a man who was a long-time celibate and never showcased any trait of happiness and a complete stone-faced seriousness about all of his music, but the music itself isn't all that depressing, especially in his modern form. Following up the more murky Ringleader of the Tormentors, Years of Refusal seems to initially play like a Morrissey stereotype in its opening track "Something is Squeezing My Skull." Morrissey quips, "There is no hope in modern life."

And yet Years of Refusal is more Morrissey the person finally settling himself and being shockingly upbeat. Instead of continually entailing his troubles, he stares at the concept of death and merely shrugs. He knows it is coming, and he's as ready as he'd ever be. "One Day Goodbye Will Be Farewell" is not even downbeat at all. If anything, it is as carpe diem as Morrissey will ever be, essentially telling the listener to treat those they love well because no one knows their ending. (Of course, in the same song, Morrissey intones "When I die, I want to go to hell" to remind you that he's Morrissey.) And the music is very energetic, very pleasing to the ears for sure.

17. Lucero - 1372 Overton Park

One of my biggest regrets in forming the Top 10 of 2008 list was that I instantly regretted all of my picks, because conclusive lists are made to be broken. Moreover, I didn't give any credit to The Gaslight Anthem's The '59 Sound, a record that has actually bonded me to people and actually is not nearly as flawed as half of the list (and also, Death Magnetic was way overrated in hindsight).

So I fully expect that in the future, 1372 Overton Park could be a lot better than a lot of this list. The record's producer is Ted Hutt, who was the producer of The '59 Sound, and Lucero shocking sounds a lot like a more mature and wistful Gaslight Anthem, referring to folk heroes of the 60s like some man named Johnny Davis in a song of the same name. Horns and piano fly all over the piece almost in pure contrast to the hardened vocals of Ben Nichols (and in homage to the olden traditions of Memphis soul). Moreover, this is all being done on the dollar of a major label, so the sheen is clear but nothing of the legitimate soul itself is lost.

It is a record that seems intent to grow on the listener and to seep into your head, similar to Brian Fallon's wistful stories on '59 Sound. So keep that in mind in six months to a year.

16. Fever Ray - Fever Ray

It actually took a bit of looking up for this entry, because it is hard to establish the sound of The Knife and co-vocalist Karin Andersson's solo project Fever Ray. It is everything you would expect out of rave-based electronica, but there's a lot more creepiness and construction to Andersson's songs. "If I Had A Heart" is a particularly unique example of the perfect blend of sensuality, creepy, and disturbingly beautiful that is capable on this record. The song underlines its overly haunting beat with a down-tuned voice transmixed in mid-song with the delicate voice of Andersson, and it just cuts the soul in its three minutes and fifty seconds. There's no other way to put the song's impact in written perspective.

Of course, no song on Fever Ray strikes chills as effectively as "If I Had A Heart" and its piano-tuned repetition. "Dry and Dusty" is evocative, and the rest of the record is aural fascination, but it may have been guilty of not matching its lead in pure power. Still, if I have to go to another party again and this ISN'T on the playlist, I'm going to feel a "why bother staying" effect because it accomplishes amazing dance music with an interesting creep factor about it.

15. The Pains of Being Pure at Heart - The Pains of Being Pure at Heart

If you read Metacritic or Pitchfork this year, sadly, you won't be very impressed by all the "new territory" this list will cover, including many of the more highly raved about records of 2009. But at least in the case of Pains of Being Pure At Heart, there is a fun and nervous charm to their take on Cure-era pop as filtered by the Magnetic Fields. (God, I had to make the hyperbolic comparison at some point, might as well at this point.) The band seems to operate like a nervous, skinny 15 year old just learning into the concept of love. This sounds pejorative, I'm sure. It is not intentional. "This Love is F-cking Right!" and "Young Adult Friction" seem to understand the cuteness in nervousness and Stephen Merritt will be pleased. (Yes, that is possible. Yes, I said "nervous" three times. Well, now four.)

14. Mos Def - The Ecstatic

Going into 2009, it was a wonder if Mos Def would ever return to the lyrical smarts he showed on Black on Both Sides. After detours like The New Danger, a burgeoning film career, the disaster of True Magic, and leaving Geffen Records, it seemed like Mos was about ready to stay focused on acting full time. Of course, nothing is what it seems. With the release of The Ecstatic, there is a Mos who is completely fired up and writing some of the smartest lines of his career. The Ecstatic seems shockingly political on the surface, with songs having titles like "Workers Comp" and "The Embassy," but these songs are actually more of a sharp attack on the impersonal aspects of humanity. "The Embassy" especially skewers overly polite workers who act nice for the sake of employment, not for the sake of human generosity.

Moreover, the beats are especially on fire here. "Casa Bey" sounds like a screwed up 1970s game show, and is incredible. "Supermagic" is a phenomenal blast that opens the album with energy, perhaps adding to the feeling of Mos himself being more alive than ever before. Even the minimalism on display in "Quiet Dog" is amazingly fitting. Thus, The Ecstatic is a continually intriguing listen from a man who has regained his prominence in alternative hip-hop.

13. Bat for Lashes - Two Suns

Now, I'm not going to lie to you. Natasha Khan, the chanteuse who records under the name Bat for Lashes, is a bit intense. She also potentially is unappealing without the right mindset as well. Defining Two Suns as merely an album where Khan and her alter-ego Pearl exist feels too much like comparing the Brit to Sasha Fierce, and no one wants that. Her music also ran on the edge of dance-pop and medieval intrigue last time out on Fur and Gold, a solid record that perhaps attempted too much at once, instead of the calm of "What's A Girl to Do" and "Sarah" being present through its whole runtime.

Two Suns is an infinitely better record than Fur and Gold, however, because Khan is so utterly engrossing. She waxes poetic about a boy she made up in a dream. She says "I'll be boy and you'll be girl. Beautiful" on "Moon and Moon" where she notes about "a lover lost at sea." I have no idea what any of this means, other than the likely incorporation of Pearl throughout half of the album, namely on a song called "Pearl's Dream." However, it is blinding poetry. Khan speaks of a thousand crystal towers and of concepts that only she might only be able to comprehend as she details her mind's eye. This isn't to say Khan's a genius, but it is to say that her imagination ran vivid.

12. Jay-Z - The Blueprint 3

For the longest time, I never got Jay-Z's appeal or ability. His biggest fame came from losing to Nas in rap beef, he would even readily admit to holding back on lyrical denseness for commercial success, and up until his first "retirement," he seemed completely uninteresting to me as a rapper. Of course, I partly understood when I heard The Black Album, because the record was a solid enough effort, but I still did not think of him as a favorite rapper. If anything, it was more disheartening to see Nas sign to a label where Jay-Z was boss and to where they could record one not so great mix-up together (the otherwise great Hip Hop Is Dead's "Black Republican"). Then Kingdom Come came out and had its most remarkable track be from Chris Martin and was a failure otherwise. Then American Gangster came out and it was alright, I guess.

Then Blueprint 3 came out. I have to admit, I was shocked. I liked about everything. Jay-Z found the best elements of his production, got some great efforts out of the newer producers (like Swizz Beatz), and even had pitch-perfect cameos. Pitch-perfect cameos like Alicia Keys in the amazing "Empire State of Mind." Like Kid Cudi being a pretty awesome singer on "Already Home." Like Drake! Like Pharrell! The list goes on. This is the best mainstream rap record of the year. (Well, if the higher one doesn't count as mainstream, hint hint.) Jay-Z's flow is shockingly awesome in contrast to the last two records. Everything just seems to fit for a pleasing populist effort that might actually silence the hate from Shaun Carter's work.

(At this point, if you're going "WTF, why no more albums," I have decided to split this into two parts, because I could and because twenty one two paragraph entries won't get read unless you are an avid AV Club reader, which I suspect most of the people reading this aren't. So, it's split. 11-1 will be done within the week most likely. Oh, and album covers to format it better might be added soon, too.)

Like a Rolling Stone.

Today, I got an issue in the mail of this magazine that I'm sure you've heard of. At their heyday, they were named after the second most known rock band of all time, talked shop with Paul and John after the breakup of the first most known rock band of all time, and oh yeah, Hunter Thompson wrote a few awesome pieces for them. But now, in 2009, what does it mean to read Rolling Stone?

It means that there is a scary trend that actually serves to ruin the consumption of our reading forever. That trend is this feeling of trying to cover "the most important development ever" in every issue. This sounds vague, and the first sentence is hyperbolic on purpose for this reason: writers and publishers are very un-sneaky in how they go about this.

When you look at the picture above, there are obvious things to notice. Shakira's breasts are pretty obvious, for one. But look at the headline: *Can Shakira Conquer the World?* The correct answer is no. The music scene is too fragmented and too fast for a woman whose last major splash is 2005 to really run on success. And Rolling Stone is further guilty of trying to entice the reader into mediocrity. In the era of Lady Gaga, we're being told that Shakira is still valid in her own ability to conquer humanity. Sure, she's a good dancer with inhuman hips, but how do you not see through the bullshit there? It makes me feel sort of embarrassed that my non-existent money (I paid a dollar for a shirt and got 12 issues of the magazine out of it) is going to a magazine with no clear intent for its audience.

Yes, the above sounds petty, but we do need to actually dig into the magazine. On page 34 is a piece by one Rob Sheffield entitled "Sitcom vs. Reality," which is based around the concept of the new ABC sitcom Modern Family and its apparent game-changing style of embracing reality show archetype versus the traditional sitcom format. This is well-written, because Sheffield does back up his arguments and at least makes a mighty defense. But acting like the sitcom is a culturally irrelevant art and that ONE SHOW will save it is the piece's only flaw, which of course means it is the front and center headline. It's not even that the sitcom isn't beloved, it's this silly belief in "the relevancy of it to culture" that only writers ever really think about. Only overthinking types care about the relevance of art. For everyone else, art is just there. And that is the current Rolling Stone's biggest flaw: overassuming relevance.

The fourth paragraph is even more ridiculous when the magazine is putting names like Adam Lambert, the Jonas Brothers, et al. on the cover. I don't need to tell you that the magazine industry is facing its inevitable death, and that even Rolling Stone cut their page counts in lieu of falling advertisement dollars. (My issue is 94 pages in total.) But how do you just attempt to champion things few actually care to follow?

Sheffield doesn't help this when he compares the Twilight saga to Pretty in Pink in a review of the New Moon soundtrack. (Complete with saying the shirtless werewolf guy is the film's Duckie.) The actual quality of the soundtrack aside, it feels so needless to compare things to other things to make our age "feel important." (I will note the irony of me saying this later.) Twilight is probably not Pretty in Pink 2009, even if our generation responds to it as such. It is its own idea of vampiric lust mixed in with staring, which might be similar to Molly Ringwald and John Hughes' adventures (in that it's a fight for a normal girl, though, this has more supernatural attacks to it), but shouldn't be compared because everything can be compared. The talent it takes to compare two things is nil. Hitler and I are similar in that we were both socially awkward in high school. Does that make us similar as people? I hope to god we aren't.

We should not let the past define our cultural relevance, but moreover, we should not let ourselves try to create needless importance. I'm typing a note on Facebook that five people will read. It is not that important in the grand scheme of life. However, if I noted that this was the best thing I had ever written and tried to force the importance, you know what would happen? A couple more people would read it, but the value of the work would not be the same. It goes against the art of criticism, but one source cannot declare the greatness of something much bigger than themselves. It would be a pointless exercise.