Since the Face Been Revealed, Game Got Real

I'm back to say that I'm gone. For two weeks. Straight Bangin' is on LSAT holiday until June 12. Posting will be sparse if at all. And it's a shame--there's a lot that I want to discuss. But sometimes we gotta make hard choices. I'd like to think that David Stern would be proud. And not just because I'm coming for his job.

Kanye West, "Young Folks"
As you may have seen, there is a new Kanye tape to cop. I am still sorting out my thoughts (not that you were waiting breathlessly for them). Part of me is heartened by what I've heard: musically, it sounds like Producer Kanye has gotten to a place where he's taking constructive chances. This song, "Young Folks," is evidence to me, as it seems to channel the playful, bullshitting Kanye who made his early mixtapes and his debut album so exciting. That's among the better Kanyes. Even if this shit doesn't make a proper album, it's nice to hear the dude not taking himself so fucking seriously, or acting upon this obnoxious pretension that it's his personal mission to change hip-hop by making records with Maroon 5 just because he can. That shit was horrible. Sadly, he still has some of that in him. This super-group crap he has on the mixtape, "US Placers," sounds like a self-conscious mashup that I am sure indie types will die over. But that music has always sounded different for its own sake, and when purposely seeking out the new above all else, Kanye has always seemed insincere and far too pop for his own good. College Dropout was a record that he had to make; Late Registration was something that he could make.

Thankfully this indulgent drunk-with-celebrity Kanye didn't make a lot of music for the Can't Tell Me Nothing tape; it's not the dominant aesthetic. If anything, the experimental stuff reminds me more of the "We Major" sound--full, and risky, but still reminiscent of the hip-hop modes that suit Kanye and honor what he does best. He's creative, and he hears things that others don't. That's on display as you hear songs like "Stronger." But never does the desire to incorporate the daring override the initial intent, which is to ultimately make good (G.O.O.D.?) music. Kobe Bryant can pass, and could average a triple-double if he wanted to simply prove that he could. But he's best as a scorer, and he was such a revelation this past season because he seemed comfortable within his niche. It's my hope that Kanye has emerged out of a "show you what I got" period and is again ready to make focused hip-hop. This might be a good start.

Democrats Need Cialis

That finger is for you, Democratic voters. It certainly doesn't mean anything to Bush.

Regardless of the policy specifics (which I admit are challenging--a pullout has its pros and cons) and how you might feel, let's all take a step back and recognize that the Democrats are a collection of impotent chickenshits. In control of Congress, challenging a President with approval ratings in the high 20s, amidst a context of growing discontent regarding the "war," and operating with a seeming advantage in political capital since the Administration is filled with lying incompetents who brazenly hate all rules (Alberrrrrrrrtoooooo!), the Dems accomplish nothing.

What losers.

And stop wasting time and pandering with bullshit like this. Find a real solution, not some Mickey Mouse stop-gap.

Tracy McGrady's Career Is Over

Nothing like a $6 retread.

This blows.

Music for a Monday: Peering Into Common's Future

Kanye's right-hand man?

No one should ever feel bad for Carmela Soprano because she pretty much loves her life and is ultimately a contented party in the Faustian corrupt bargain that passes for her existence. She may continuously lay her tenuous claims to the moral high ground and play the scorned innocent with regularity, but at the end of the day, she loves the money and that she's married to the boss. Somewhere deep down--the place that is always shaken when bad things happen--she knows that the Devil will be there at some point, but she doesn't care enough to change. The furs are too nice, the jewelry too expensive. That she espouses traditional American values and traffics in trite platitudes is even better; she plays her part so well. You oftentimes can't tell if she's trying to convince herself, as though she's girding for the burning eternity, or if she's so sinister and twisted that she actually believes she pulls off the act with aplomb.

If Carmela weren't this wonderfully rendered character, Tony's degrading sarcasm--"Ohhh, poor you!"--wouldn't be nearly as resonant. However, despite the myriad reasons why she deserves her plight, something that she said last night should not be lost amidst the deserved consternation: it really can be grating to hear someone complain all the time. The negativity is poisonous.

It likely says something bad about people like me that we are always complaining. It's not just that I have an opinion about most things. Rather, I have those opinions and am all too happy to let someone else know what's wrong with so much stuff. Witness Straight Bangin'. Open-toed shoes, baseball, Mike Breen--my criticism is bound only by time. The more I can see, hear, meet, feel, taste, the better, because it will help me identify that which is insufficient. For these same reasons, though, I enjoy so many activities and subjects because I enjoy learning, and there are all sorts of opportunities that come with perpetual animadversion.

Of the many rappers who receive attention on this interwebnettube (which should perhaps be an adjective that measures one's internets ability), The Game is among my favorite to disparage. And I mean that with a certain warmth. Whereas I simply have no patience for 50 Cent's wretched exploitations or Young Jeezy's inadequate rap music, I appreciate Game for what he and his music afford me while serving as targets for the usual opprobrium. My review of Doctor's Advocate remains a favorite entry of mine because far from aimless hostility, it was a targeted critique of a complicated rapper, and writing it helped me better understand why I'd even bothered. I hate many things in this world that are almost never discussed here--tomatoes, dogs, Jane Eyre--because they're just not worth the effort. They really aren't that interesting. But my feelings for someone like The Game are far different from other persistent aversions that I carry as badges of honor: I experience no virulent emotion when considering Jayceon Taylor (there's no way that my mother will know that he's the same person without the link). I don't care for some things about him that are hard to escape, but exploring those differences helps me also to identify that which I do I like. Above all else, I greatly appreciate that through his music and his actions, The Game is an ongoing psychodrama. He appears to be incredibly conflicted, a walking paradox. And for all that irks me about him, I ain't mad at that.

I enjoy a similar experience when listening to and thinking about Common, a rapper whom I treat with much more sympathy despite obvious shortcomings that even his fans, of which I am a devoted one, cannot fully look past. Common is among the most intriguing rappers because he seems lost in a culture that values direction and unsure in a culture that tethers certainty to manhood. That he is such a gifted lyricist, commanding attention and respect, makes him a study in psychology to rival The Game, because if he couldn't rap, no one would care. Common is a black-power mainstreamist; a culture critic who sells clothes for the Gap; an independent who all but admits to needing Kanye West; a dude whose legacy was forged by Resurrection, revived by Like Water for Chocolate, and almost destroyed by what followed, Electric Circus. He makes little sense, and even that is part of his appeal. Really a blogger's dream.

Many of the perplexing questions that surround Common again seem salient now that his upcoming album, Finding Forever, is on the horizon and damn near half of it seems to have leaked on the internets. Which Common will we be getting? Will he be exercising agency over his own career?

Since 2000, Com has seemed more like a gifted rap vessel and less like his own dude. He's just always contorting his excellent flow and hip-hop-bohemian aesthetic to match up with whatever creative Svengali he's following at a given time. LWFC was a dope record, but were it to be addressed in a hip-hop history book, I think that the discussion would primarily cast the record as a towering accomplishment for the Soulquarians. In fact, the characterization is lent credence when one considers that Common seized upon that moment by...getting punked for his relationship with Erykah Badu and letting the Soulquarians go crazy and fuck up his next album. Is that really the record that Mr. Used to Love H.E.R. meant to make? That's what the dude who destroyed "The Food" summoned? Electric. Wire. Hustle. Flower? P.O.D.? Really, Com?

Humbled by the experience, Common came back in 2005 with Be, a very good album...that was, again, largely seen as a testament to someone else's talent. This time, we celebrated Kanye West's genius. It, of course, didn't help that Common made appearance after appearance as a West supplicant while Kanye--doing what it is that does--would claim to have "brought back" Common, helped him find himself, and all that. I saw Be performed live a number of times, and what was most striking was that it seemed to take Com about a year to really perfect the stage show, as though he needed the time to fully embrace and familiarize himself with someone else's passion. He needed to really learn the role and figure out how he was supposed to be applying his talents. I am not assailing Common's microphone skills, but as you assess his career, you can't help but wonder why it's always someone else doing things to and for him. Rappers need great beats to make great music, but between the Soulquarians and Kanye, it always seemed like Common was a foster child looking for parents who were all too happy to put his talents to their uses. And I don't want for that to sound critical, but it is what it is.

As we get back into it with Common now, it seems too early to tell if he will be working for himself or someone else. "South Side," "The People," and "Black Maybe" are subdued, soulful music that fits Common well and sounds like an amalgamation of the producing talents that have driven his better music before. There is Kanye in all of them (he did produce the shit, after all), but it's not pure Kanye. Though he must have been drunk when agreeing to do so, Kanye's beats sound like works of compromise. Other stuff, "Misunderstood" and "The Game," doesn't caress Common's flow in similar fashion, but the beats for both work. And one is inclined to think that perhaps Common, despite Kanye's overarching vision and input, had some of his own ideas. Maybe he felt as though he could take off the training wheels. I certainly hope so.

Lyrically, an older, wiser, more self-conscious Common continues to be a mixture of the witty and cheesy, independent and beholden. On "The People," alone, he runs from pole to pole: we get the funny and knowing "While white folks focus on dogs and yoga..." but also the wishy-washy contrivance, "My daughter found Nemo"; the declarative "Can't leave rap alone/The streets need me/Hunger in they eyes/Is what seemed to feed me/Inside peace mixed with beef seemed to breed me/Nobody believed/'Til I believed me" but also the sadly submissive "I found the new Primo." He is never fully his own man. Common has also changed his narrative perspective, which is only natural. The personal perspective from "Book of Life" may no longer be a realistic mode for a man who's experienced so much else and spent an entire career rapping about himself. But to now regularly hear Common address the condition of his people, rather than just himself, is simultaneously admirable and somewhat hard to believe. Is someone with an identity significantly created by others really in a position to address someone else's problems, no matter how right-on we find the messages?

We can't yet answer the question, and in some ways, that's a fitting end-point.

- Common, "The People"
- Common, "Book of Life"

Among the Most Depressing Videos I've Seen Lately

This is what he does in his free time? On vacation? In his underwear? He just seems sad and foolish. And like he was trying out to be on the cover of In Search of...

Sob with Satisfaction

Bullshit: Now available in something other than a pile of brown.

This is not a popular opinion in my circles, both terrestrial and cyber, but last night was a great basketball evening. Resent David Stern and Robert Horry as much as you'd like, but don't look past the truth. With Amare Stoudemire playing fantastic basketball, the extra motivation born of desperation, and the Spurs missing a key member of their rotation and the second-best interior defender on the team, Phoenix was not as good as San Antonio. And that was a fitting microcosm for the series.

Among certain portions of the population--the sensationalist media and the segment of fans who insist that upon having seen the Suns run, no other basketball is sufficient--2007 Suns-Spurs will forever be remembered as a flawed series. It may even be remembered for its flaws among those with a more expansive and circumspect perspective. And while I don't deny that Phoenix plays exciting, entertaining, effective basketball that I enjoy, the Spurs are also testament to a certain sort of basketball sublimeness. I also find claims that this series was adjudicated in unjust fashion to be something of a canard. The better team won.

Individually, there may be Suns whose general quality exceeds that of their respective counterparts on the Spurs: Marion may have more skills than Bowen does; Nash may run a team, in total, better than Parker does; Thomas may be a better center than Elson or Oberto; and so forth. But as a collection of players, the Spurs are superior. Bowen pressures the ball and hits corner jumpers; Parker runs the pick-and-roll, shoots the floater, and makes the 20-footer with some consistency; Manu puts in threes, goes to the rim, and makes things somewhat frantic; Horry helps on defense and shows up to help save the day; Oberto and Elson foul people and slap at rebounds; Barry once won a dunk contest; Finley is like a shorter version of Donyell Marshall--you think he's too old, you can't really identify one thing that defines him, and he can nail it from deep. It sounds weird that this is a championship-caliber team, but they all complement each other so well. None of it would be possible without Tim Duncan, of course, but in some ways that only reinforces both the Spurs' merits and Duncan's greatness. This team lives the adage that a whole can be greater than the sum of its parts, and the success San Antonio has enjoyed for a decade is all catalyzed by the most unassuming all-time great of, well, all time.

So often set in contradistinction are the Suns, though this baffles me. In the Western Conference Finals, Phoenix seemed very much like a different sort of Spurs. Not similar in style or personnel, the Suns were very much another example of team-based basketball, and in that way, it's perfect that these San Antonio and Phoenix teams will forever be linked. Marion is a superb defender (despite the mental lapses) and slasher; Amare is an unparalleled finisher who hits the pop after a pick; Barbosa blurs to the basket and steps outside; Thomas rebounds and defends. You know the rest--the point is that the Suns, too, are a kit of parts held together by the monolithic presence of their own star, Nash. Games 5 and 6 were proof of the Suns' essence: for all of the warranted adulation and excessive hyperbole that we project onto Stoudemire, it is Nash who allows Phoenix to be Phoenix, whether he is running the small-ball show, emboldening his teammates to play even better, getting Stoudemire going, or raining in clutch jumper after clutch jumper. He's great, and so is Phoenix. But just not great enough.

Throughout the series, Duncan was the central figure in every way. He sets an emotional tone, he scores when the Spurs need offense, he finds teammates when an opponent doubles, and most importantly, he is an incredible defender. The story of the series was that Bowen harassing Nash all over the court was particularly effective because Duncan never afforded Nash any relief. There was never an unimpeded angle, a clean passing lane, or anything easy once Nash made it inside. Passing back out, to say nothing of shooting, was an almost onerous chore because Duncan was always looming. Pop et al. knew exactly what they wanted to do and Phoenix couldn't adjust because at a certain point, they needed Nash to be Nash, and he wasn't. Conversely, San Antonio always had an answer for Phoenix as the Suns sought to be disruptive and take Duncan away from his strengths and the team's rhythm. He adapted better than Nash, and the Suns were somewhat impotent in the void.

(N.B: Most teams can't replicate what San Antonio has, but let's see if the Pop strategy sweeps the league next year and more athletic swingmen get physical, chase around, and drive Nash toward an awaiting center who doesn't leave his feet.)

So it is not only misleading but even unbecoming to protest as though a crime has been committed out West. Suspensions and cuts and hard fouls had nothing to do with Barbosa playing poorly or Manu getting so many open looks. Game 1 was decided not by a team medic but by free throw shooting: with or without Nash, Phoenix was playing desperate basketball in those final moments because the lead was too great. And Game 5 was lost not by suspensions but by bad luck: who knew that Manu would erupt and Nash would struggle? Would Stoudemire and Diaw have made a difference? Yes, but they were available on Friday, Horry was still out, and Phoenix was down by 20 in the fourth quarter. So I don't know how much it would have mattered. It's not as though Game 5 would have had the same emotional tenor or style only with two more Suns participating.

I remain almost without sympathy concerning the suspensions. As I just stated, I don't think that they rendered the series misrepresentative. Beyond that, Jeff Van Gundy (who has an incredible agent and a towering work ethic--he was calling a game on the same night he was fired!) said that Horry's foul was nothing more than a hard one, and I agree. I don't think he or anyone else needed to be suspended. (It of course should be noted, as David Stern did while pwning Dan Patrick, that everyone knows that leaving the bench = suspension.) Nash, though fouled, played up the effect, and the only thing the incident should have produced was more tension for Game 5. It probably wouldn't even have been as big a deal had it not "happened to" the NBA's greatest white hope, but that is a topic that's been discusses in other venues many times before. Regardless of race, though, Horry's foul was some old-school NBA shit that was very much a part of what we all loved about the Eastern Conference in the 80s and 90s. Those quotations pictured above are disingenuous. We know that the better team won; we know that the foul should haunt no one because it decided nothing.

If you're lamenting a Western Conference Finals featuring the teams that out-executed and outplayed the Warriors and Suns, you're missing something. Last night was fantastic, and this next series should, be as well. No one was robbed of anything other than empty hype. And maybe an MVP award, because Duncan seems plenty deserving.

P.S. I stand by this, as it was on display last night.

P.P.S. Jeff Van Gundy is a great broadcaster. He and Marv, together again, would be a dream come true.

P.P.P.S. Offensive fouls should be abolished save for the most egregious circumstances. They ruin a game and unfairly penalize the aggressive team trying to make a play.

You Can't Spell "NAMBLA" Without "NBA"

I guess that David Blaine is a Republican.

I want to take a momentary break from the Spurs-Suns hysteria to ask an important question: Did David Blaine know that he was making commercials for the National Basketball Association's playoffs when he signed up to do all these magic-themed spots? Did he mix up NBA with another acronym-ed organization? Nothing about these ads is mysterious or, uh, magical. They are weird; they freak me out. And far from an impressive illusionist, Blaine just seems like some unwashed, sneering pederast or someone's creepy, catatonic uncle who just got home from prison. I have to change the channel when Blaine comes on.

Am I wrong?

The Intertubes in Action

Best invention ever.

I first started blogging more than two years ago. I wanted to have my own platform from which I could participate in the conversations I'd found. In late 2004, having read about blogs and having been led to believe that important, specialized conversations about everything were happening online, I wanted to find those that addressed the things I cared about. I think I went to Google and typed in "hip-hop blogs." There are gaps in my memory but I somehow wound up here and here. I did the same for topics like "Michigan sports" and "Democratic politics" and "80s songs that you're embarrassed to love." It was literally life altering. I suddenly had access to entire communities composed of people who cared about that stuff as much as I did and wanted to talk about it all the time.

When you first join an internet conversation, it can be hard to get your bearings. Almost everyone sounds like an authority, the whole linking system carries with it nuanced implications, and there is an unstated pressure to know what people are saying. As I sorted all of this out, my collection of RSS feeds grew unwieldy, because I was always adding more and more sites to monitor. You kind of feel like a supplicant trying to make a good impression. It got to be too much, and I scaled back. Launching a blog--I was initially just a frequent commenter on a site like Different Kitchen--was one way to do this, because it was sort of like a home from which I could make trips and to which others could make periodic visits to catch up. It simplified things.

Another way was to cut out the sites I didn't want to be reading. I'd argue that in all online communities, there is an information baseline from which everyone works. NBA bloggers know what happened in last night's games, political bloggers know when Bush fucks up, rap bloggers all hear the new Kanye song. It means that unless a blog is dispensing unique insight or is notable for some other reason, you might not want or need to read it. I felt that way about the sites I stopped visiting--I didn't enjoy the writing and didn't find the ideas particularly engaging--and among those that quickly fell out of my rotation were many of the blogs maintained by full-time music critics. That likely isn't news to anyone who reads Straight Bangin' with consistency. For a number of reasons, I don't share many of the fascinations and attitudes in which those sites traffic. Worse, some are written with this the paradoxical tone of insincere modesty and paternalistic condescension. There are some (to which I won't link but aren't hard to figure out) that I find absolutely atrocious.

All that said, among the best of the critics' sites, Hardly Art, has posted some interesting thoughts about the top-25 albums project. I find some of it insulting, and there is a dismissive element that affirms many of my feelings, but I also think that there are many good and engaging ideas in the post. Sean seems to conclude that even in a new medium, and among theoretically progressive music fans, it is hard to escape established orthodoxies, and that this is likely a bad thing. I don't know the answer--I tend to think that rap music is, on average, worse than it used to be. Regardless, though, Sean's post is an affirmation of why I blog. Exchanging these ideas, reading my thoughts challenged--the internet is the best. And that it comes from a precinct that I don't commonly visit or concern myself with is even better.

I suppose that this entire brain dump has concluded with a lingering maudlin tone, but I was surprised by the commonalities among Sean's analysis and my thoughts. I guess that we do our do, separate but together.

Music for a Monday on a Wednesday: Sometimes I Hate Myself

This has almost nothing to do with the post. But come on...

Time is tight these days at Straight Bangin' headquarters, but I wanted to throw up three songs that have dropped this year that I can't help but like. It's sort of depressing.

- Hell Rell and Freekey Zekey, "Feelin' Myself"
Here's the problem with Hell Rell: He is 100% generic. His themes, his references, his subjects, his vernacular--it's incredibly predictable. He's a cartoon. My people and I joke about this--anyone in the world could ghostwrite for this motherfucker and his cohorts. On top of that, he basically has one flow and can't always make it work with the beat he's using. I can't even tell you what is typically wrong with Zeke because I don't pay enough attention to his rapping. Most of it is just empty Diplomatish. And these shortcomings are why I smile when this song comes up on when my iPod's on shuffle.

They have absolutely no right to be feeling themselves.

The chorus is ridiculous for the cocksure message and conviction with which these dudes buy into it; Hell Rell, whose entire career screams out "halfway house," talks about almost getting stabbed with an ice pick; Zeke flows like he just graduated from the Dip Set Rhyming Academy for Young Boys; and all of the usual Diplomat nonsense is delivered over this almost warm, winding mood music. It is manifest idiocy, but the sincerity behind it and the audacity of the content make it oddly intriguing.

- Fabolous ft. Jay-Z and Young Jeezy, "Block on Smash"
I've never liked Fabolous. He strings together rhymes well enough, but too many of his beats miss the mark and there has always been something maddeningly orchestrated about his career. And I don't mean "orchestrated" in the 50 Cent empty-media-spectacle, phony-beef kind of way. I mean that I wouldn't be surprised to find a book called "How to Be a New York Rap Star" resting on Fab's night table (). He just seems like an actor happy to indulge in the mindless and exercise his ability in a fairly forgettable fashion. I don't think that in twenty years, people will be sitting around reminiscing about the good ol' days when Fabolous would make one memorable single every 18 months and then put out crappy albums. He will end up in the waste bin of history.

For a while, I haven't liked Jay-Z. I am just tired of him. He reminds me of Magic Johnson: he's past his prime, not really playing anymore, and yet he is so narcissistic that he will never turn down a chance to be in the spotlight. Everything has to always be about him. Tony Soprano is similar. It leads to a lot of repetitive verses. I mean, for fuck's sake, which Def Jam album doesn't have a Jay-Z guest spot? Ever heard of the illusion of scarcity, President Carter?

I have nothing even remotely kind to say about Young Jeezy, a substance-less rapper of minimal wit whose gimmicks are annoying and music is worse. I honestly cannot think of a single rapper who has ever been as irksome. He's not even a funny caricature.

So naturally, I should hate a song with all three of these clowns. And yet, I don't. The beat is too infectious, and better, it's not only catchy and triumphant and all that, but it hosts--suggests? mandates?--a cadence, delivered by anyone, that makes the voices and the lyrics meaningless. The emphasis is placed almost solely on the rhythm with which the words are spit, not the words themselves or the people saying them.

- UGK ft. T.I., "Hit the Block"
For too long, I've held it against UGK that so many interneters overrate the group. It's not UGK's fault that lots of people make bad choices. Following the album project, I put Ridin' Dirty on again to see if I was missing something. I'm not, and Pimp C continues to rival Young Jeezy in most of the key ignominious categories, but I don't think that I've been fair in my assessment of UGK. Bun B has his moments, and ever since he was re-born a few years ago as hip-hop's most welcomed guest and token southern friend, I've come to like his delivery more than I had previously. I especially like it over this off-kilter, staccato production. The yelps and shouts and claps that are repeated in nearly frantic fashion are unsurprisingly the work of Swizz Beatz. I also appreciate that Bun B is smarter and a little more culturally aware than your average rapper--few dudes are name-checking Tony Snow. I guess I ultimately feel bad that Bun has to explain that kind of shit to Pimp C, but I never said that I liked UGK that much, so my sympathy is limited.

Bonus Audio: Peep Stimulating Music for the ill grown-and-sexy remixes. I especially like the "Bombs Over Baghdad" joint.

I'll Lay You on Your Back

Don't hate.

First, anyone who calls Robert Horry "Cheap Shot Rob" is either: a) retarded; b) lame; c) an ESPN employee; or d) pretty much any of those three, since they're redundant. It's a dumb "nickname." And, it disrespects the mountain of evidence from which its progenitor was culled. One hard foul does not invalidate an entire career's worth of work. So shut up. Robert Horry is my man.

Second, I understand the "leave-the-bench" rule and I hate it. I understand it, I just hate it. It cost the Knicks a championship and it violates the spirit of teamwork, something that our sports mythology champions above nearly all else.

Third, I understand that the NBA cannot be a league of vigilantes with jump shots, but this new era of enforced pussy-dom sucks. I don't advocate that the NBA take the stupid route and tether the success of its sport to tacitly approved but officially rejected patent violence (how's that working out, Hockey?), but I think that far worse has occurred without the Earth's axis changing. Phoenix and San Antonio don't like each other (honestly, no one seems to like Phoenix) and that leads to hard fouls. Horry's shot was cheap, but in a bygone era it would have enhanced Game Five, not neutered it.

Finally, this all just means that Horry is gonna hit the series winner in Game Seven. I can't wait.

Running the Numbers on the Top 25

Ya head is throbbin' and I ain't said shit yet.

Yesterday, you may have read about the results of the Passion & Bangin, LLC internets battle for rap-album supremacy. There was even a rap-nerd spreadsheet that came along with it!

In the course of the unveiling, I said that further analysis of the results would formally resume on Monday. The intention was to allow the list and the initial reactions that it prompted to breath. But as responses and ideas poured forth, I was happy to betray my original intentions. So rather than adjourning until next week, Jeff and I are gonna jump back into the list. Having exchanged emails, he and I have some basic idea of what the other would like to say, but there is far less coordination than one might expect, so keep your fingers crossed that we don't write identical posts.

Away we go...

Ten Albums That Should Not Have Received Votes

10) The Game, The Documentary - Really? An album that was recognized by even its biggest fans as incredibly derivative? With songs like "Runnin'" and "Don't Worry"?

9) Little Brother, The Listening - I am likely among the greatest champions of this record for what it is, and I love me some Phonte. I know this album intimately, and as a result, I can tell you that it is not one of the 25 greatest records of all time. Despite earning points for such a well-intentioned and well-crafted narrative arc, the album's final third is just too bland leading up to what is, admittedly, a rousing finish.

8) Quasimoto, The Further Adventures of Lord Quas - Maybe I just don't smoke enough drugs to embrace the extensive sections of discordant music.

7) Inspectah Deck, The Rebellion - What?!

6) Talib Kweli, Beautiful Struggle - Some of Kweli's most repetitive rhymes over far too many annoying beats.

5) Cam'ron, Purple Haze - This record is likely Cam's magnum opus. And that Cam represents what is truly a singular set of hip-hop practitioners argues for Purple Haze earning distinction as both a record of influence and as a record that will one day become an antiquity piece. Listening to this in a future era will be like one of our scienticians finding pottery left behind by the adherents to some kind of classical subculture. Purple Haze even stood out as both a comedy record and one of the more memorable releases from 2004. But it just has so many crappy songs and terrible skits.

4) Anything by Nelly

3) Big Tymers, How U Love That, Vol. 2 - I need this explained to me. I don't get it.

2) Instrumental albums - Anyone who comes here on the regular knows how I feel about Peter Rock and Jay Dee, so don't try to twist this shit. These things don't even have actual songs on them.

1) Any mixtape or compilation - Call me stubborn or myopic, but I tend to understand these sorts of endeavors to carry with them the unspoken parameters that regardless of other legitimate factors, the goal is to acknowledge standout works of ingenuity and virtuosity. Making an impressive album of original ideas strung together in some sort of unique and cohesive fashion is tremendously difficult. Elevating mixtapes that are so often devoid of this innovation (recycled beats? Come on...) or anointing greatest-hits CD's as seamless moments of inspiration--to do this is somewhat dishonest. You may love 2Pac, and he may have been a great rapper who made a lot of good individual songs, but if nary a one of his many (many) albums ever fully realized his talent, then he shouldn't be on this kind of a list. It's not a lifetime achievement ceremony or a compendium of the best rappers. Don't even get me going on We Got It 4 Cheap...

No, But I'm Really in to...
You may have noticed that while some records fell outside of the Top 25, they still had high average ratings when their cumulative totals were divided only by the number of votes they each respectively received. The following records that didn't "chart" stuck out to me for having notably dedicated fan bases:

De La Soul, Buhloone Mindstate and De La Soul Is Dead and Stakes Is High
Public Enemy, Fear of a Black Planet
Organized Konfusion, Stress: The Extinction Agenda
Showbiz and A.G., Runaway Slave
2Pac, Me Against the World

Painful Omissions
Aside from the albums which I nominated that did not earn spots on the final list (I was only 14 of 25) and rappers whom it feels like we should have included (Kane, Ice Cube, Slick Rick, The Roots) I kinda miss:

Black Moon, Enta Da Stage
EPMD, Buisiness Never Personal
Redman, Whut? Thee Album
Brand Nubian, One for All
MF Doom, Operation: Doomsday

So, GRGOAT?
If one wanted to divine from the data which rap group might be considered the greatest of all time, there would be a lot of options. Outkast placed two albums on the list; Tribe placed two in the top 8. Five De La Soul records received nominations, as did five from Public Enemy. There is also this odd collective that you may have heard of called the Wu-Tang Clan: Enter the Wu-Tang finished second; Rae, Ghost, and GZA also had albums fall in the top 14; and something like 15 Wu-Tang albums received votes. And, this all discounts innovators like Gang Starr, EPMD, Run-DMC, Boogie Down Productions, N.W.A., the Beastie Boys, the Roots, and several others.

That said, let's explore one of several paths that might lead us to a more definitive conclusion. (And I won't front: I am a language person. Statistical operations are not my thing.) Let's also agree that no single answer will be properly produced merely by relying on this data and agree to exclude the Wu-Tang Clan, which will remain in the conversation but is too messy to neatly measure since the solo efforts from all ten members (shouts to the Cab Driver!) are an inextricable part of the group's very legitimate claim. With this out of the way, we can more easily approach the data. But, we should also use common sense (not so fast Bone Thugs) and a basic criterion that any group claiming "greatest" status must have at least two records nominated to be in the conversation.

It's tough to quantify important characteristics of greatness such as enduring influence or the stylistic contributions of an individual like DJ Premier, but one measure of the title we seek to assign might be consistency. Consistency--a rare hip-hop trait that truly does help differentiate the better, more significant rappers--is a quality that could theoretically be obtained by combining the raw scores of each qualifying group's albums and then dividing that sum by total votes. This method rewards groups that received the most votes--either for a small range of records (N.W.A. and Mobb Deep) or for a wider range with a less concentrated distribution (De La Soul)--but I am comfortable with this bias because it places a fundamental faith in the voters. It seems logical that groups named on more ballots have a more legitimate claim to the title of greatest.

Pursuing this idea, we get the following:

A Tribe Called Quest - 17.698
Public Enemy - 12.673
Outkast - 12.624
Eric B & Rakim - 8.554
De La Soul - 8.158
Mobb Deep - 7.629
N.W.A. - 6.490
The Roots - 5.890
Boogie Down Productions - 5.842
Run-DMC - 4.634
Beatie Boys - 3.713
Organied Konfusion - 3.248
Gang Starr - 3.198
Pete Rock & CL Smooth - 2.881
EPMD - 2.386
Ultramagnetic MC's - 1.752
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo - 0.881

Without the numbers, were you to spout off that the Wu, Tribe, PE, Outkast, and Eric B & Rakim were the great rap groups ever, you'd command credibility. If the next five that you cited were De La, Mobb Deep, NWA, the Roots, and BDP, you'd still sound reasonable, although Mobb Deep is a stretch. So though this is an obviously flawed model, it seems to have *some* merit.

A Few Lingering Thoughts
- I can't say that I'm totally comfortable with Jay, Biggie, and Outkast each putting two albums on the list while several notable rappers, principally Ice Cube, were omitted. It's evidence of two key points: 1) This was not a Greatest Rappers list. Without Kane and Cube (and G Rap, you might argue), it simply cannot be. Amerikkka's Most Wanted, Death Certificate, and The Predator comprise what is arguably the best three-record collection any single rapper has ever put together. 2) There was an obvious selection bias among participating voters. Ballots came from bloggers whose work Jeff and I greatly respect, along with the submissions of reader who share that taste. This similarity in preferences was further reinforced by the alleged Wu-Tang bias (which might not actually be a fair criticism since the Wu-Tang Clan might just be that significant). I happen to think that the prevailing taste is better than what one might find among a group of those douche bag hipster music critics, but the bias cannot be reasonably denied.

- Among roughly 100 voters, 384 albums were nominated. Does that strike people as a lot, a little, or expected? I think it seems somewhat high, but that's not a bad thing.

- The Blueprint made this list? Black Star ahead of Black on Both Sides? For real?

- As was pointed out by Joel, the results of this survey were somewhat predictable. That's just a nugget of info to keep in mind given that so many bloggers, myself chief among them, regularly complain about how off-point and bad mainstream taste has become. I think that those of us who feel distinct from the mainstream over-emphasize the real differences that differentiate our tastes.

- hellzgnaw said that he was disappointed that the final list contained multiple albums from certain artists. I am conflicted about that. On one hand, I can understand his point, as these projects invariably contain a celebratory element that argues for including as many deserving artists as possible. Especially since 25 albums is an incredibly small sample population that could easily be filled out without repeating rappers. But on the other hand, the goal was to capture a true sense of taste. If someone, as I do, feels that Tribe has made two of the 25 best albums of all time, why worry about a restrictive guideline that might skew the ballots and lead to insincere submissions?

- A 2Pac fan needs to explain to me why it's a crime that one of his albums didn't make this list. Ditto with Big Pun.

- Poor Nas. Imagine going through life knowing that you'd peaked as a professional before you were old enough to even really work in the first place. That record is the true Gift and Curse.

- I can no longer tell if I think that Jay-Z is overrated, underrated, or just plain old rated.

Making an Endless Left-Hand Turn Is Not Sports

This gets the Breaking News treatment? Who fucking cares?

Links

- Peep game: the Ten PR Commandments over at Street Consensus.

- Peep game: Liz B, dope fashion designer. Look at all the celebrity t-shirts!

The 25 Greatest Hip-Hop Albums of All Time

What you've been waiting for...

Among the more popular business ideas of recent times has been James Surowiecki's Wisdom of Crowds (which also comes in book form). The one-line description is that so long as information is shared across a broad spectrum of people, large groups make better decisions than more isolated elites. Faith in wise crowds is the idea that drives Digg, Wikipedia, and all kinds of internet fads, from lasting innovation to indulgent whimsy. In some ways, Surowiecki's idea is the perfect meta-philosophy for our contemporary era, a time that has seen best-seller lists dominated by mass-appeal scholarship that has fused business strategy with behavioral research and easily understood examples. What is the popularity of common-sense literature such as Freakonomics but an example of crowd wisdom? Rather than simply accepting information from monolithic sources, people are increasingly interested in a democracy of information and new mechanics for learning, all so that a greater "truth" can be known.

These innovative ideas fuel business and are, themselves, a business. It's why Malcolm Gladwell can build a small fortune by showing up at at various places and sharing his thoughts with important people, or just regular people (don't forget, wise crowds). Hip-hop, always on the cutting edge of technology and business, is just one more arena in which an appeal to crowd wisdom was wholly logical. Among people who consider themselves rap fans, you have an incredibly diverse and collectively erudite population.

Placing our faith in a crowd, the accounting firm Passion & Bangin', LLC endeavored to discern which rap albums were regarded to be the 25 greatest of all time among the people whose taste truly matters: the people. After weeks of discussion and voting, ballots were cast and counted, and a result was determined...

We are pleased to present the Greatest 25 Hip-Hop Albums of All Time (until the next time someone does this). 101 people voted, and all ballots were counted equally. Voters were asked to rank the 25 albums which they felt were the greatest, and points were assigned to each album's position on each ballot. Any album receiving a #1 ranking was given 25 points; any album receiving a #2 was given 24 points; and so forth. After all ballots were submitted, we tallied each nominated record's cumulative score and then divided the total by the total number of voters. This was done to ensure that some wack-ass record by Lloyd Banks couldn't appear ranked #1 on a single ballot and end up with an average score of 25.

Today, the top 25 is being made available, along with the master scoring spreadsheet. On Monday, further analysis, critique, and rumination will be posted. From our perspective, it appears as though this project was yet another affirmation that groups of people tend to make smart choices. What do y'all think?

Below, please find the top 25 and a link to the scoring sheet. Underneath each album, we have included excerpts from various submissions. Passion & Bangin' would like to thank all participants.

- Download the spreadsheet here!

The 25 Greatest Hip-Hop Albums of All Time

25) Jay-Z, The Blueprint
"A lot of people will argue that Reasonable Doubt is Jay's best. Reasonable Doubt was too derivative for my taste. But on The Blueprint Jay was at his most obnoxious, playful and Machiavellian i.e. his best. It's the sound of a man consciously putting the genre on his back and bum rushing the mountain top." - Angry Citizen

24) Black Star, Black Star
"I remember coppin' this, Aquemini, and Lenny Kravitz's 5 on the same day. Needless to say, I was jammin' for months. I miss those days." - Boo Goo Doo Boom

23) Common Sense, Resurrection
Common just overwhelms the listener with his wordplay. The production is understated and lets him shine." - Wendell

22) Outkast, ATLiens
"No album before or since has had such an initial impact on me. I literally remember walking to the record store the day this came out. I had plans to go out that night and wanted to get home so I could quickly listen before my ride got there. When my ride came, I told him I was staying home and I sat there and listened to this album straight thru, over and over, until sometime the next morning. Since then, I’ve only grown more fond of it. A complete package in terms of an overall feel, fantastic lyricism and stellar production that is unrivaled." - Kwis

21) Notorious B.I.G., Life After Death
"...He would create what is widely regarded as hip-hop’s first blockbuster album." - Fresh Cherries from Yakima

20) De La Soul, Three Feet High and Rising
"Changed the game. Period." - Straight Bangin'

19) Run-DMC, Raising Hell
"More lyrical and musical than most rock albums of the same era." - Nerd Cake

18) The Fugees, The Score
"The samples and rhymes are so smooth and unabrasive, and the drum loops are strong, but not so hard-hitting that your ears start hurting after extended listening. The Score represents, to me, the perfect musical collection: interesting, challenging, and moving, but at the same time, poppy, catchy, and accessible." - Jamie Radford

17) Snoop Doggy Dogg, Doggystyle
"The greatest party gangsta album ever. The best Dr. Dre beats ever." - Zilla

16) Boogie Down Productions, Criminal Minded
"The Beatles have never sounded this good." - Unkut

15) Jay-Z, Reasonable Doubt
"Jay copied from the best to come up with this one. " - Start Snitching

14) Ghostface Killah, Supreme Clientele
"Who knows what the fuck Ghost is saying but damn does that shit sound fly." - Searching for my Swagger

13) N.W.A., Straight Outta Compton
"The effects of this record still leave me confused as to what the net effect of N.W.A. was on rap." - SS

12) GZA, Liquid Swords
"always the most intellectual member in the legendary wu, genius lives up to his moniker over this dark, brooding collection of rza’s coldest beats." - Fresh Cherries from Yakima

11) Outkast, Aquemini
"Besides the pop hits, the more artistic side of this album took a while to grow on me. But now I wonder what the fuck was wrong with me." - Woodsonian Institute

10) Mobb Deep, The Infamous
"Prodigy's lyrical performance on this pushes it above and beyond. With their first two albums The Mobb helped usher in the street thug era as much as BIG and Jay did." - The Assimilated Negro

9) Eric B. & Rakim, Paid in Full
"Party records. MC records. Fast rapping. Slow rapping. Perfect for the car, the stage, a mix show. Rakim never wastes one bar and the beats fit him like a glove while sampling the best parts of the best soul records ever (Barry White, Lynn Collins, James Brown, Kool and The Gang, Syl Johnson, etc.)" - Zilla

8) A Tribe Called Quest, The Low End Theory
"...this record feels more like a whole than almost anything else I've ever heard. Every song is perfect, from the ridiculous stripped down and spare production to the massive talents shown by both MCs." - Better Than Butt Sex

7) A Tribe Called Quest, Midnight Marauders
"Looks like we've found the greatest hip-hop group of all time." - Woodsonian

"This album deserves a coronation ceremony as the greatest hip hop album of all time." - The Assimilated Negro

6) Public Enemy, It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back
"Easily one of the top five most important records in hip hop history, with a mid-album trifecta of monumental importance: 'She Watch Channel Zero,' 'Night of the Living Baseheads,' and the chilling 'Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos.'” - Flood Watch Music

5) Dr. Dre, The Chronic
"This album defines a generation." - Dallas Penn

4) Raekwon, Only Built 4 Cuban Linx...
"The epitome of early 90's east coast hip hop." - SfmS

3) Notorious B.I.G., Ready to Die
"So many choice cuts and Biggie rips through verses with such an amazingly captivating style: this album’s charms are impossible to resist." - From Da Bricks

2) Wu-Tang Clan, Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)
"A group of nerds from Staten Island mixed kung-fu, obscure mythology, gully talk and a cult religion to change rap forever." - SS

"Hip-hop’s version of Sgt. Pepper." - Passion of the Weiss

1) Nas, Illmatic
"Whenever some hippie music rag puts together a Top 100 albums of all time list it always includes Kind Of Blue at the expense of every other Jazz album ever released. When hip-hop reaches that level of recognition, Illmatic will be the album to make the list. And by the way, Nas won." - Angry Citizen

"The Sun, Moon and stars along with the spirit of RAKIM ALLAH came together to form this rap music manifesto masterpiece." - Dallas Penn

Don't Let Brady Quinn Come Near Your Kids

(Your caption here)

The mind races, doesn't it? Let's have a caption contest. Winner gets a Reincarcerate Yayo t-shirt.

Here's an obvious one: Looks like a NAMBLA endorsement is in someone's future...

Programming Note

The top-25 greatest hip-hop albums list will be posted and discussed this week. I apologize for the delay. Jeff and I are finalizing things and should have it up sooner rather than later. We appreciate the participation and patience. (And this means that the ballot box is closed. Sorry.)

Following this week, posting may be light over the course of the next few weeks as I attend to some social and extracurricular obligations. The regular schedule--I aim for something like 7-10 posts a week--will pick up again on June 12th. But we'll see; I may post more than I anticipate during the upcoming probationary period.

That's all for now. Class dismissed.

I Love the Internets

I have nothing to add to that.

You may not recall this, but last summer, I posted an encomium written about Pearl Jam, my favorite rock act. At the time, I took a shot at Aerosmith, a group that is overrated and boring.

Well, some people were a little, um, upset about it. Into the annals of great interneting we go:

From: [AN ACTUAL NAME REDACTED]
Date: May 4, 2007 12:23 PM
Subject: Greatest American Rock Bands Of All Time

Hey Shit head (sic, I think) I live in Corpus Christi Texas, address is [AN ACTUAL ADDRESS REDACTED]. Not only is Aerosmith the Greatest American Band of all time you could argue they are the greatest band period. Pearl Jam is a good band at best. And as for you your (sic) more than likely one of those faggots who would talk shit about a band just because their (sic) on MTV, have top ten singles, and sell out every arena from Texas to Japan. I'm not one of those fuckin haters, to me great music is great music it's as simple as that. And for me, hearing (sic) you talk down on the greatest fuckin band of all time deserves a serious ass kickin. So you have my address, all you have to do is show up and ask for Ryan, and I'll give you the worst fuckin beating of your sorry ass life. And if your (sic) not sure about how serious I am, my cell phone number is [AN ACTUAL PHONE NUMBER REDACTED]. So please give me a call and or come to my house and we will see who wins Pearl Jam or a truly great band Aerosmith.

Please note that this came from an actual email sent by an actual reader. I removed all personal info for the sake of decency.

The comments section is below...

Music for a Monday and Friends

That about sums up Game One. And that bloody nose meant nothing. Come on.

Lots to touch upon and not much time for it, so let's get into a throwback omnibus post, replete with the latest (and much overdo) installment of Music for a Monday:

Musics
One of the odd paradoxes about some of the better, softer hip-hop is that it can be remarkably forgettable at times. While a generic record from the Strange Fruit Project may, by definition (read: generic), meet this profile, it can also hold true, at times, for venerated artists as good as Common. No need to jump in and defend his lyrics or concepts--those are not under assault (and aren't like to ever be in this internets precinct). But rather, you should be honest: there are some fairly innocuous Common records that you can just throw on and zone out to as you do (or don't do) a whole lot of anything else. I mean, you can just cruise around in your car to all of Be, for instance, and may not remember most of the words that just passed through your ears. A close listen is always rewarding, of course, but unlike what you might do with an artist like Common--or even De La, for that matter--you wouldn't commonly think to throw on a Hell Rell track as you cleaned your room or studied. (And that's not really a compliment, Rell.)

I feel as though I've heard a lot of this quality, fairly unremarkable zone-out rap lately. Sometimes the flows are too dense; sometimes you're too tired to really pay attention; sometimes you just like the beat--whatever it is, there can sometimes be a reason to not really pay attention. More probing assessments, if not full reviews, are owed to the new records from the Polyrhythm Addicts and Jazzy Jeff, but for now, a small sample. Oh, and coincidentally, Com kind of made my point for me:

- Polyrhythm Addicts, "Zonin' Out"

- DJ Jazzy Jeff ft. C.L. Smooth, "All I Know"

- Common ft. Dwele, "The People"

P.S. Jimmy ain't the president, he's the CEO; Zeek is the president; Santana is the under boss; and Cam is...fired? On probation? (That would be some funny shit--to be on Diplomat probation. No cartoons, no sugar cereals, and you'd have to play "doctor" with Jimmy whenever he said so.) This strikes me as a developing situation... (HT: Here and here)

Basketball
- The discussion in response to this post has me ready to clap back. Short of growing three or four inches taller and shutting down Carlos Boozer on Saturday night, what was Tracy McGrady supposed to do to win Game Seven against Utah? Did you watch the game? Dude was the only Rocket who played "bigger" in the moment. He drove to the basket on a consistent basis; he hit open teammates; he was calling for the ball. Have you seen the box score? He shot 12-25 and had 13 assists, meaning that he, in effect, enabled 25 of Houston's 34 baskets. When Steve Nash does that, he wins MVP. I realize that Matt Harpring scored on McGrady a few times down the stretch and that TMac didn't shoot on every possession, even when double-teamed, but I don't really buy either of those as proof that he is somehow to blame for the loss on Saturday. The former was a result of fatigue (which resulted from him playing as a one-man team in the fourth quarter) while the latter was inadvisable--you may have noticed that someone like Kobe, who was also forced to play Superman, isn't playing anymore, either. And he was done about a week ago.

If you want to blame any Rocket for Yao getting so many touches, blame Jeff Van Gundy (if he even still is a Rocket) because that is what the team was built and told to do. And let's also not forget that even Michael authored memorable moments when passing. That's part of "making teammates better"--if you draw a defense's attention, the professionals with whom you play are supposed to do their jobs. Unlike in Dallas, where other players either stepped up or at least didn't step down while the "superstar" choked, Houston was not the victim of an absentee franchise player. One man can only do so much. Just ask Wilt Chamberlain. Or Charles Barkley. Or several other Hall of Fame players who couldn't win without, or until they got, help.

Saturday was tragic precisely because Tracy McGrady played so well.

- If you were putting together a starting five of the Least-Athletic-Looking Good Athletes, you'd probably go with:

C - Andrew Bogut (who took Yao's spot since Yao isn't a good athelte, just tall)
PF - Tim Duncan
SF - Dirk Nowitzki
SG - Paul Pierce
PG - Steve Nash

And that is part of what makes the San Antonio-Phoenix series intriguing. I have always loved watching Tim Duncan because the technical proficiency of the way he moves is so admirable. Some of those ridiculous bank shots that he throws up as he twists and flails are horrible looking, but when he's on balance and operating in rhythm, he's graceful. As he's gotten a little older and the injuries accrued over time have worn on him a bit, he's lost some of the easy aesthetic when spinning and drop-stepping, but I continue to marvel at the efficiency of his game. Conversely, though Steve Nash is so good and so effective, and while I like what the Suns do so much, I don't really enjoy watching Nash move (excluding his passing). It's not that I don't like him or that I don't watching him--that is, witnessing the manifest result of his efforts--I just don't like watching the mechanics of his game. I don't see grace as he falls off balance and throws up those awkward fade-aways; I see this off-putting exertion. The hard work is great, but it just looks ragged, and I am always surprised that so many people can see it another way.

Internets
- Literally: he said it again!

- Just want to shout out the steady, thorough work done at Souled On, which is such a good blog.

- Boo Goo Doo Boom's take on the Mavs' failure.

How Do You Say "Fuck You" in Chinese?

A dead fat guy can move laterally quicker than Yao.

Do NOT tell me that Tracy McGrady is a loser or that he was the reason that Houston lost this series. I didn't see him getting pwned by Carlos Boozer, and I didn't see him missing so many rebounds. What I did see was a guy whose teammates are mostly just glorified spot-up shooters who didn't shoot all that well and who didn't get stops or loose balls after McGrady did everything he could. I called Houston "limited" a few weeks ago for a reason.

Tracy McGrady is a hero.

We Will Never Forget

Barbaro was a great horse and an even better adhesive.

Just 15 days from the one year anniversary of a day that was sadder than 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina and everyday in Iraq combined, I just wanted to say: We will never forget!

Barbaro forever.

I hope that somewhere, some three-year-old is eating him and smearing him on the bottom of a table.

Barbaro, Aaliyah, Freaky Tah--we be missin' you.

Nowhere to Hide

The countenances of ambivalent American domesticity.

The "soccer mom" as we know her--that is, in all her conspicuously consuming glory--didn't exist before World War II. And that's because we didn't have houses that were cheaper to own than apartments were to rent; roads that were built to take us to and from these houses, even if it meant literally driving over a had-been-thriving urban neighborhood; and the government-sanctioned definition of middle-class happiness that revolved around righteous consumption in the name of defeating communists. All of that came after World War II, when the FHA made houses affordable and accessible (for whites); when the Interstate Highway Act made the car a symbol of American domesticity as roads grew; and when politicians and propaganda made success all about the vacuum cleaner. In sum, we didn't have the soccer mom because we didn't have soccer. And that's because we weren't living in the suburbs.

What I just wrote is, in effect, a working narrative of suburban history, if I may be so bold. Throw in white flight and job migration, both products of the cited government programs; the social cataclysms of the Civil Rights Era and Vietnam; the ensuing rise of mainstream conservatism and its Silent Majority; and some good old fashioned Evangelicalism (what, you thought it was normal for Ronald Reagan to claim that America was "enjoined by Scripture and the Lord Jesus"?) and you really need little else. What amazes me about this distillation of history is that the soccer mom has now emerged as its leading figure while the mainstream story of suburbia largely ignores the social implications placed upon men burdened with the expectations that came with this cultural shift. Do NOT get it twisted: no one is arguing that men have it rough in America. But you need not cast men as subordinates while still acknowledging the sobering reality that came and still comes with social conventions about providing. You could watch Sopranos for further, contemporary proof.

Once white America had moved to the suburbs and tethered its identity to dishwashers, it was on men to keep them running. To be happy and middle-class was to have things--cars, refrigerators, and all the other material benchmarks of success. That was onerous for the breadwinners among a people, Americans, who all insisted upon calling themselves "middle class" and realizing the repackaged American dream.

The pressure had deleterious impacts on society. Just ask Frank Wheeler. Ironically, men grew reticent and detached from the wives and kids they were working to support. This fostered hostility among all parties, with absentee men transferring the resentment that stemmed from their duties onto their wives and children, and these dependents coming to loathe, at least in part, the distant husbands and fathers who had been reduced to little more than moneymakers. Again, it would almost have been funny in an ironic sort of way had these frayed familial allegiances not led to maladjusted children, alcoholism, infidelity, and a host of social problems. Ill-equipped to confront the oppressive consumer culture that gave rise to these issues, suburbanites installed material wealth above seemingly all else, substituting for priceless and intangible affection with cars and guitars and whatever else people buy for each other when they can't fill the void otherwise.

No longer is this a problem confined just to the suburbs, although that's where it may still be most pronounced. And this Crisis of Masculinity is dramatized with an incredibly astute insight every week on Sopranos, because Tony is, above all else, a symbol of American suburbia gone awry. Over the years, the show has been criticized for misplacing storylines, wrongly muting action sequences, and delving too deeply into half-baked psychoanalysis. However, for me, it has always remained the only show as engrossing as The Wire because the workways and rhythms of suburban life are so wonderfully rendered. (I think; I'm just a city kid.) We were reminded of it this past Sunday when Tony and Carmela had yet another fight about the murky intersection of money, affection, and identity. Tony's seething hostility toward Carm and his poisonous associations with having to earn money are remarkable to behold because they seem so authentic and honest. And for Carmela, the ambivalence that arises from her worship of wealth and the conscience she can't escape is similarly enthralling for a viewer.

Though it has now become trite to speak of it in these terms, the Baby Boom era truly was among the most world-altering times in human history, and I am routinely in awe of just how great its impact remains. I was reminded of it last Sunday and was again thinking of it yesterday as the Times detailed the political lineage shared by the Nixon and Bush Administrations. Just as Tony is a symbol of suburban male discontent, so too is Nixon an enduring image of the unique political change that took hold in the latter half of the 1900s. And that both have now given way to the soccer mom as the leading champion of suburban culture is yet another reminder that we are dwarfed by contemporary history.

Mirthful Miscellany: What's on Your Feeble-Ass Mind?

Great news: the Spirit of Truth is back:


Peep the ill MySpace page here.

- Peep game: 7 and a Crescent

- Peep game: Poisonous Paragraphs

- While we're all getting our Warriors love on, let's remember the OGs:


And let's also recognize Mitch Richmond, one of the most overlooked players of our times.

- Not that he needs a link from me, but Henry did a great job with this Lakers piece. It's a towering example of the writing and analysis that make blogs so enticing.

- Someone please get rid of this motherfucker:

Brady Quinn's Douche Baggery Memorialized

When you:

- campaign relentlessly to be the number one pick after having never won an important game;
- get ESPN analysts to spend far too much time discussing and making jokes about your musculature;
- unfairly co-opt an entire week's worth of media coverage...

...and then nearly fall out of the first round, you deserve shit like this:

Try FreeStyle

My mans 'an 'em over at the Bodega put me on to this new hip-hop-infused basketball game called FreeStyle. It's an online game that you play with and against other users from around the world. It's a pretty cool concept; I gave it a whirl earlier and it's not even that hard to pick up. You can register for free and can even win tickets to the NBA Finals. It's likely worth your time. There are trailers, too, to give you more of a sense of what it's all about. So...

...peep the game here;

...and watch the trailers here and here.