For most of my childhood I assumed that my older brother was cool. He is two
years older than me, and he has always been taller, bigger, and more confident
than me. So, to me, he was cool. He almost certainly is cooler than
me, but that's been a low bar for most of my life. So when he went through his heavy metal phase in
middle school, I thought that was cool.
In the 7th grade he purchased a cassette single of "One" by Metallica from their
...And Justice for All album. That seemed cool. "One" and its b-side
"The Prince" were harder and crunchier and more menacing than the hair metal
and top 40 radio that I was still listening to. "One" was formatted similarly to
the power ballads that I was becoming increasingly obsessed with, so it was
certainly my best possible introduction to this new kind of heavy metal.
I remember my brother trying to convince our parents that this was actually
good music and not just "noise" as our dad liked to call it. We actually sat as a family in the living
room and put "One" on the living room stereo. Our dad appreciated the acoustic guitars at the beginning, but as the song got loud and filled with distortion
and double kick drums, his appreciation waned. We still listened to the entire seven
and a half minutes, but I could tell that dad didn't understand my brother's
musical tastes. This was also at the height of nationwide uproars over popular music and lyrics,
and the newly introduced parental advisory stickers. My brother had brought
home a few cassettes that were discovered to have explicit lyrics, so our parents were almost automatically skeptical of his music choices.
Later that year, I remember watching the world premier for Metallica's "Enter Sandman"
video on MTV. That was a huge deal. Their self-titled follow up to
...And Justice for All (better known as "The Black Album") turned them
into super-duper stars, and not just a band that uncool middle schoolers
listened to. I really liked that album and their videos for "Enter
Sandman," "The Unforgiven," and "Nothing Else Matters" as I started to venture deeper into my own heavy metal phase.
From that point, I discovered Metallica in almost reverse order. I may have been
introduced to them through a song from ...And Justice for All (their
fourth album), but their fifth album, Metallica, was
my true introduction to them and their music. So over the years I went
backwards through their catalogue finding opportunities to listen to more of
...And Justice for All, followed by songs from
Master of Puppets (their third album), and later hearing some tracks from
Ride the Lightning (their second album) and finally
Kill 'Em All (their debut album).
Each step back in time seemed to include new revelations into what heavy metal
was capable of as a genre. The riffs got snarlier, the lyrics got darker, and
James Hetfield's voice got higher. It also blew my mind when I discovered that
Megadeth frontman Dave Mustaine had been their original lead guitarist (though
he was fired before they released their first album).
So, here I am with my one Metallica song on this list. Why "Fade to Black" (a
song from their second album)? Is it because it's basically a power ballad? Is
it the fantastic descending riff that leads into the bridge? Is it because of
its themes of death and suicide? It's certainly some combination of those things that make this song so enjoyable to listen to.
At this point, I feel compelled to address those lyrical themes from "Fade to Black." Everyone handles death in different ways. I've never been good at it. I never
know what to say or how to say it, but does anyone really know what to do or say when someone dies?
Metallica had to confront death during their Damage, Inc. Tour in support of Master of Puppets when their founding bass player,
Cliff Burton, was killed in a bus accident. They moved forward and continued
on as a band with a new bass player named Jason Newsted, but when it came time to record a new album with Newsted (...And Justice for All) it became clear that they were still processing things. As the band worked with their producer
and engineer on the final mix for this album, they decided to lower the volume of the bass
line until it disappeared from the mix. Newsted is credited with playing bass
on the album and even received a writing credit on one song, but his bass line
was lost. And apparently nothing that survived those recording
sessions includes those bass lines. We'll never know how that album would
have sounded with Newsted's bass lines or what Cliff Burton would have done had be been alive.
Did the other members of Metallica hide those bass lines in an attempt to
protect their former bandmate's life and legacy? Was this a form of hazing of
the new member of their band? We don't always know who will be affected
by someone's death or how it might affect them. It's something we all have to
live with and figure out on our own. Sometimes we hear what we need to hear or
read what we need to read. Sometimes it just takes time. One album later, Metallica left Newsted's bass in the mix.
My first real encounter with death was when my dad died during the summer after I graduated college. I heard a lot of
condolences and apologies and attempts to help me feel better about it. Most
of those comments and conversations felt forced or insincere, despite the fact
that I knew everyone was just trying to do their best and be kind. I was certainly trying
to do my best, even when I didn't know what that was or what it should look
like. Was I supposed to cry because he wasn't there anymore, or was I supposed
to not cry because he was moving on to a hopefully better place? Was I
supposed to listen to sad songs that reflected my current mood or happy songs
to try to lift me out of it?
I did receive one letter that really helped. It was from a co-worker who was about my age who had
already lost her father. It was the one thing anyone said or wrote to me that really
seemed helpful. I tried to hold onto that letter because I wanted to
say or write similar things to others when their parents passed. I don't know
when I lost that letter, but it's gone. And now I wonder whether the words
were really all that profound, or if it felt more sincere and helpful just
because I knew that she had already experienced the same kind of loss as me.
I'll never remember what she wrote, but I'll always
remember the feeling of reading the words in that letter: the comfort I felt
and the relief in knowing there was someone else I could go to who could
understand what I was feeling.
While my friend's note helped, and a long conversation with my best friend got
me through that first night, it took time. But then even when I thought I had recovered
and had come to peace with my father's passing, the first time he showed up in my dreams after he
died, I woke up crying. I felt haunted and uncomfortable, but now as the years
pass, when he shows up in my dreams, I savor it. It doesn't happen often, but
it's nice to have those moments, even in dreams, to talk with my dad again.
"Fade to Black" is a song specifically about suicide and suicidal thoughts.
I feel compelled to remind any readers that there are options available if you are having thoughts of
suicide. In the US you can call or text 988. If you are concerned about using
a crises line that sometimes implements police intervention, here are a few
non-intervention options that are available:
Trans Lifeline: 877-565-8860
BlackLine: 800-604-5841
Samaritans: 212-673-3000
MH First Oakland: 510-999-9MH1
Right now "Fade to Black" by Metallica is, probably, my 41st favorite song of
all time.
I went to high school with a girl who knew John Mellencamp. She was
apparently best friends with his daughter. I have a vague memory of her
showing us a music video of his that she got to be in: She and Mellencamp's daughter were riding horses, and the song was somewhere between unfamiliar and not good. This may be another Mandela effect moment because I tried to find that video as I was preparing this post and found no evidence of its existence. And now I really think I dreamed this up because the only other thing I remember about this girl was that she did some kind of jump rope class for PE. They did a performance at the end of the term, and she did a routine with a couple of her friends. She either lacked any sense of rhythm, or she just wasn't very good with a jump rope because she was definitely the weak link of that performance. That's such a weird couple of things to remember about a girl from high school that I'm really beginning to question my own reality. Did anyone else go to boarding school with a girl who was best friends with John Mellencamp's daughter and wasn't any good at jump rope or was that just me?
This song came out before I was born, and I'm not quite sure when I became aware of its existence. When I was in high school, the only songs by John Mellencamp that were relevant to anyone's life were "Jack & Diane" and "Wild Night," his collaboration with Meshell Ndegeocello. "Jack & Diane" mattered because it's an amazing song that everyone loved. "Wild Night" mattered because MTV and VH1 played the music video all the time.
Ultimately, I have never loved John Mellencamp's music or image or whatever, but he did write and perform some great songs. This is one of them. Adding this particular song to this particular list did feel strange because I still seem to hold onto some kind of association with Mellencamp's music being uncool. But I included this song on this list because, despite any perceived sense of uncoolness that I associate with John Mellencamp, this is still a fantastic song. Would it still be on the list if I made it today? Probably, but maybe not.
It's been about three years since I finalized this list, and although I haven't listened to much new music since then, I have discovered or rediscovered plenty of old music that I really love. Earlier this week, I was listening to the song "Ramble Tamble" by Creedence Clearwater Revival. I didn't even know that song existed when I put this list together. It wasn't on their greatest hits compilation, so it might as well have never existed. When I finally checked out their Cosmo's Factory album, "Ramble Tamble" floored me. It's great.
For those curious, here are a few other songs that might make this list had I made it today: "Strangers" by The Kinks, "Roll Me Away" by Bob Seger, "Lie in Our Graves" (live) by Dave Matthews Band, "Thirteen" by Big Star, "I Miss My Baby" by Parliament, "Away" by The Toadies, "The Four Horsemen" by Metallica, "Reach Down" by Temple of the Dog, "Tones of Home" by Blind Melon, "The Calvary Cross" by Richard & Linda Thompson, "Porch" by Pearl Jam, "I've Just Seen a Face" by The Beatles. What would come off the list? I don't even want to think about that. It took me too long to finalize this list. The list is here, and it is what it is.
If I ever finish writing about these 100 songs, maybe I'll look at some of those others, but that's a big if.
Right now "I Need a Lover" by John Cougar is, probably, my 42nd favorite song of all time.
Written by Lionel Richie Produced by James Anthony Carmichael and Commodores Released on Commodores (March 30, 1977) Released as a single, March 18, 1977 Peaked at #4 on Billboard Hot 100 amazonitunesspotify
I first heard this song on an advertisement for the NFL. I guess that makes sense. Football on Sunday is easy, and this song is incredible. Lionel Richie's velvet voice helps to ease everything else away. Except that now this song will always be linked in my mind to American football, which is kind of annoying. But it also makes me think of easy Sundays mornings: sleeping in, church, brunch, walks in the park, good times in general.
I can ultimately live with the sports connection because I love sports. American football has never been my favorite sport, but it's still sport. It affords the opportunity for us all to witness true greatness and transcendent acts of skill that somehow shatter the limits of what it means to be human. Plus there are lots of fun stats. American football is easy like Sunday morning (if you can look past the concussions and shortened lifespans of its competitors).
Baseball may have been my first love, but basketball has long been my greatest love. I love coaching high school basketball. I love watching all levels of basketball, but my favorite is the NBA. NBA basketball is the best. It features the best athletes, the best story lines, and the most transcendent moments. Watching a posterizing dunk can bring me the same kind of joy as listening to a favorite song.
What does the NBA have to do with this song. Nothing really. I've just been looking for any excuse to write about the NBA, and this seemed like my best shot. So the rest of this post will now devolve into a rant about another list that someone made that I spent way too much time obsessing over.
Last year, to celebrate their 75th anniversary, the NBA released a list of the 75 greatest NBA players of their first 75 years. Just as happened when they released their list of the 50 greatest NBA players of their first 50 years, there was a lot of criticism and commentary on who was left out and who shouldn't have made the list. 25 years ago, I thought the list and ceremony was pretty cool. It introduced me to a lot of the history of the NBA. I heard the comments about those left off (Dominique Wilkins, Bob McAdoo, Alex English, Adrian Dantley) and those who maybe shouldn't have been included (Pete Maravich, Shaquille O'Neal). These lists are always impossible. There are always a certain number of players that almost any sane fan of the sport should agree about, and then another chunk of players who have strong arguments for making the list.
I love lists (as can be seen from this blog), so today I will be presenting my own arguments for what the NBA got right and what they maybe got wrong. My list will almost certainly be incorrect, for a number of reasons, but I still can't help myself. I have to try.
When the NBA released their list, they included everyone who had made the original list of 50. That was their first mistake. This could have been an opportunity to correct some errors and ommisions from the 50th anniversary team. Between the players who got snubbed 25 years ago, and the great players from the past 25 years, there were more than 25 new players who needed to be included. (The NBA cheated a bit here by declaring a tie for the 75th spot. While they didn't rank the players on the list, the list they released included 76 players.) I'm going to cheat a bit as well. Since I'm ultimately one year late, my list will be the greatest 76 players of the first 76 years of the NBA.
I'm going to reveal the list below, then explain a few things. I ranked them just to show a little bit into my thought process. The rankings don't really matter until the bottom of the list where we get to the guys who maybe should or should not have made the list.
So here's my list of the top 76 NBA players of all time.
* - named to the NBA 75th anniversary team
** - named to both the NBA 50th anniversary team and the 75th anniversary team
Michael Jordan**
LeBron James*
Kareem Abdul-Jabar**
Wilt Chamberlain**
Bill Russell**
Tim Duncan*
Magic Johnson**
Larry Bird**
Kevin Durant*
Shaquille O’Neal**
Kobe Bryant*
Steph Curry*
Hakeem Olajuwon**
Oscar Robertson**
Jerry West**
Kevin Garnett*
Moses Malone**
Julius Erving**
Giannis Antetokounmpo*
Dirk Nowitzki*
John Havlicek**
Elgin Baylor**
David Robinson**
Bob Pettit**
Isiah Thomas**
Charles Barkley**
Karl Malone**
Dwyane Wade*
Jason Kidd*
Bob Cousy**
Scottie Pippen**
Sam Jones**
Rick Barry**
Allen Iverson*
Elvin Hayes**
Kawhi Leonard*
John Stockton**
Walt Frazier**
Willis Reed**
Gary Payton*
Chris Paul*
George Mikan**
Clyde Drexler**
Dave Cowens**
George Gervin**
Patrick Ewing**
Steve Nash*
Russell Westbrook*
Dwight Howard
James Harden*
Kevin McHale**
Reggie Miller*
Dennis Rodman*
Dolph Schayes**
Bob McAdoo*
Wes Unseld**
Dominique Wilkins*
Paul Arizin**
Bill Sharman**
Tiny Archibald**
Hal Greer**
Jerry Lucas**
Tracy McGrady
Dennis Johnson
Paul Pierce*
Ray Allen*
Nikola Jokic
Bill Walton**
Ben Wallace
James Worthy**
Robert Parish**
Tony Parker
Carmelo Anthony*
Pau Gasol
Chauncy Billups
Billy Cunningham**
First a note about the early era players. As I started
researching, one of the things that really screwed me up was what to do
with the early years guys (players who joined the league before Bill
Russell). There are a handful who made the list (George Mikan, Dolph
Schayes, Bob Cousy, Bill Sharman, Paul Arizin, Bob Pettit), and as I
went back through stats and awards, I found a handful of guys who looked
like they maybe had a case too (Ed Macauley, Vern Mikkelsen, Neil
Johnston, Tommy Heinsohn). These early era guys are so tough to figure
out because with how much the game has evolved, none of them would be
able to compete in the modern NBA. There isn't much video available for
these guys, and what is available doesn't reveal much. Some of them,
given modern training and techniques, were good enough athletes to be at
least good, if not great, players today, but it's such a different
game, so we will never really know. (Plus the league was effectively
segregated, so they weren't even competing against the top competition
at the time.) I ultimately decided that I couldn't add anyone from that
era who wasn't already on the list (so St. Louisan Ed Macauley will have
to stay home again). After pouring over stats and awards and history,
the other guys from the original list probably still deserved to make
the 75th anniversary team because of their contribution to the history
of the game. So they made it.
The top 3 guys are players who have the best argument for the Greatest-of-all-Time. Because of when I was born, I'm not sure how Michael Jordan can ever be bumped off that top spot. I never saw peak Kareem, so I can't really speak to his greatness, but his accomplishments certainly put him on the short list. Paradoxically, it was one of LeBron's losses that almost moved him up to the number one spot for me. Somehow in 2015 without Kevin Love (injured in the first round and out for the rest of the playoffs) or Kyrie Irving (played one game in the finals, which the Cavs lost), LeBron managed to win two games against the Golden State Warriors. In case you forgot, the second leading scorer for the Cavs in that series was Timofey Mozgov. Michael Jordan is the GOAT, but I have to question whether he could have pulled off a miracle like that. LeBron was robbed of the Finals MVP trophy that year. The NBA will never give that award to another player from the losing team (Jerry West will forever hold that honor), but they should have in 2015. No one from the Warriors was better that year (especially not Andre Iguodala).
The next chunk (from 4-15) are all guys who are hovering around the GOAT conversation. Some have legitimate arguments; some are simply all-time great champions. All of them fall just short of GOAT status for me. The order here is probably incorrect, and can be nitpicked to death, but those guys are all champions, MVPs, world beaters and have to be auto includes on anyone's list.
There are probably other levels of greatness I could continue to differentiate, but ultimately what matters to me is that every guy down to number 62, absolutely, 100%, without a doubt belongs on this list. There is no coherent argument to exclude any of them. That includes one guy who was left off the NBA's list: Dwight Howard. You cannot make this list without him. When the list came out, I was shocked that he wasn't number one on everyone's snubs list. Somehow his late career struggles gave enough voters selective amnesia to forget his incredible accomplishments. Howard is the only player who made at least 8 All-NBA teams and did not make the NBA's list. He made 1st team All-NBA 5 times, and was once again the only guy who reached that milestone to be left off the NBA's list. In addition, he was named to the all-defensive team 5 times, finished top 5 in the MVP voting four times (including a second place finish in 2011), was named Defensive Player of the Year three times, led the league in rebounding five times, blocks twice, and was the best player on a team that went to the NBA finals (where his two best teammates were Rashard Lewis and Hedo Turkoglu). For those who want to make excuses on that last point because the east was still weak then, he had to beat both LeBron James and a Celtics team that had Paul Pierce and Ray Allen. It was not cake walk.
Now I could be wrong about including Dwight Howard on the list. (I'm not.) Lists like this are always subjective. (By every objective measure Dwight Howard needed to make this list.) The idea that I am right and a bunch of voters who have all played and watched way more NBA basketball than I ever will are wrong is highly improbable, but not impossible. Let me explain:
While I was making this list, I was curious about who was the best player to never make an All-NBA team. I looked at the vote totals, but we only have complete vote totals starting in 1986. It could be someone from an earlier era like Artis Gilmore, Bob Lanier, Lenny Wilkens, or Nate Thurmond. It could be Kenny Anderson, the guy with the most total voting points (180) never to make a team (mostly because of the 1994 season when he got a ton of votes but fell just behind an ultimately more desrving Gary Payton). It could be Rasheed Wallace, the man who recieved votes the most years (8 different years) without being selected once. Or it could be Mookie Blaylock, the guy who finished second in both those categories (167 voting points over 7 different years). Mookie Blaylock was also the only NBA player who almost became the name of one of my favorite rock bands of all time (lawyers made them change the name of their band to Pearl Jam instead).
That exercise ultimately didn't tell me much and didn't help me answer the question of who was the greatest player to never make an All-NBA team, but it did reveal one thing very clearly: even the so-called experts make horrible decisions and ultimately cannot be trusted. In 2002 the All-NBA teams looked pretty straight forward. When you look at who made the three teams, and who else got votes but didn't make it, the voters got it right. But when I scanned the vote totals from that year, I was shocked and befuddled to discover the name Michael Olowokandi among the vote getters. Olowokandi is one the short list for the worst number one overall draft picks of all time (in any sport). 2002 might have been his best year, but advanced metrics don't even rate him as a replacement level player that year. Somehow, despite all this, he recieved two all-NBA voting points. Which means that either someone thought he was the second best center in the league or two voters thought he was the third best center in the league. This is an unconsionable opinion to have, especially for someone who is paid to write about the NBA.
What does all of that have to do with Dwight Howard? It simply serves as evidence that I could be right about Dwight Howard. The fact that Michael Olowokandi once received all-NBA votes leads me to believe that the so-called experts cannot always be trusted to be right. I never even liked Dwight Howard that much, but he absolutely should be on this list. Arguments against his inclusion are invalid. Now, on to the rest of the list...
After my 62nd ranked player, things get pretty murky pretty quickly. There is a lot of wiggle room for those last 14 spots. Among those 14 players are 7 players who did not make the NBA's list. Here are those seven players:
Tracy McGrady
Dennis Johnson
Nikola Jokic
Ben Wallace
Tony Parker
Pau Gasol
Chauncy Billups
And here are the eight players they (and Dwight Howard) replaced from the NBA's list:
Damian Lillard*
Anthony Davis*
Lenny Wilkins**
Dave Bing**
Earl Monroe**
Nate Thurmond**
Dave DeBusschere**
Pete Maravich**
If I had followed the NBA's lead and auto included all the 50th anniversary team players, the six I left off would have taken the place of Nikola Jokic, Ben Wallace, Tony Parker, Paul Gasol, Chauncy Billups, and Carmelo Anthony.
So let's start with the two players I would have on the list either way: Tracy McGrady and Dennis Johnson.
T-Mac is the only player who made 7 All-NBA teams who did not make the list (other than Dwight Howard). He never had great playoff success, but he did lead the league in scoring twice, finished top-4 in MVP voting twice, received MVP votes four other times, and for a couple of years was in the conversation for the label: best player alive. His case is not rock solid because of his playoff struggles, but his overall resume is pretty similar to Dominque Wilkins, who made both my list and the NBA's.
DJ was a top-3 player on six teams that made the NBA finals, three of whom won the championship, and was the best player on one of those championship teams (the 1979 Sonics). He only made two all-NBA teams, but also made nine all-defensive teams, including first team all-defense six of those times. He was also top-five in the MVP vote once. He is one of the biggest snubs from the 50th anniversary team, but the other big snubs (Dominique Wilkins and Bob McAdoo) made it on to the 75th anniversary team. His case isn't as solid as T-Mac's, but he's definitely in the conversation. It's also hard to stay totally objective with DJ. He brought the only NBA championship to Seattle (the city I was born in), and although he is in the Basketball Hall of Fame, the committee did him dirty by not electing him until three years after his untimely death at the age of 52. He died knowing he got snubbed from the 50th and thinking he got snubbed from the hall of fame. He's not getting snubbed from my list.
The next five guys I decided to include who did not make the NBA's list, all have decent cases, but are also flawed (like the players I left off the list):
I guess too many people thought it was too early in Jokic's career for him to make the list (he had only completed six NBA seasons when the 75th anniversary team was revealed). I guess the voters all forgot that Shaq was named to the 50th anniversary team during his 5th season. Jokic was a little easier for me to include because I had an extra year to consider for my 76th anniversary team. He's a two-time MVP, and would be the only multiple MVP winner not on the list, so he's in. He hasn't had much playoff success yet, but he's on pace to rack up enough accolades and accomplishments to be an auto include on the NBA's 100th anniversary team. He's on the list.
There are quite a few players on the list who were amazing offensive players, but were somewhere between flawed and awful defensively. Ben Wallace deserves to be recognized for being the best defensive player during the most defensive minded era in league history. He was named Defensive Player of the Year four times, and did not win the award during his best defensive season because the so-called experts got tired of voting for him and decided to award the much less deserving Metta World Peace (who was going by the name Ron Artest at the time). Now the last year Wallace won, Tim Duncan had a very strong case, even if the voters ignored him that year. Either way, Ben Wallace won four DPOY awards during an era defined by it's defensive intensity. He was somewhere between flawed and awful offensively, but that could be forgiven during that era of basketball. In addition, he was the best player on a championship team and another that made the finals (apologies to the finals MVP from that team Chauncy Billups). He also led the league in rebounding twice and blocked shots once.
On that note, let's skip ahead to Chauncy Billups. I'm still not sure he should be on the list, but that's the beauty of these things. I can be both adamant in my opinion of Dwight Howard, and kind of unsure of others on this list. Anyone who claims to have an exactly correct 75 (or 76 in my case) is fooling themselves. Chauncy won a Finals MVP (on a very balanced team with at least two other players with very strong arguments for the award: Rip Hamilton and Ben Wallace) and made the finals again the next year. He only made five all-star teams, three all-NBA teams, and two all-defensive teams. He did finish 5th in MVP voting once. He's a gamer, and ultimately I liked him a bit more than the guys who just missed my list. I could be talked out of including him, but at some point I needed to finalize this list, so today Chauncy makes my list.
Pau Gasol and Tony Parker are linked because they were great international players during an era when the league was still unsure what to think of international players. They were both great players who won multiple championships. Pau was the second best player on both his championship teams, while Parker was somewhere between the second and fourth best player on four championship teams. He did win one Finals MVP, but that was just because the Cavs that year had no one who could stop him. The Cavs got so desperate that they even brought back an injured Larry Hughes to try to see if him playing on effectively one foot could make a difference. (It did not.) Tim Duncan was still the best player on that Spurs team, but Tony got the award because of the circumstances. Regardless, I ultimately felt like both Gasol and Parker deserved spots on this list. When they came into the league, there was still a lot of questions about whether international players were tough enough to survive in the NBA. Both Parker and Gasol played outsized roles in showing the NBA that international players could not only survive, but thrive in the NBA. I felt like there was not enough international representation on the list, so ties went to the internationals.
I gave the last spot on my list to Billy Cunningham. But really it could have gone to any of the guys who made the 50th, but were left off my list. Cunningham as a pretty strong case, but it would have been stronger had he won an NBA MVP rather than an ABA MVP. DeBusschere, Monroe, and Thurmond probably have the strongest cases from the rest, but when looking at the raw numbers, none of those guys (Cunningham included) quite stacked up to a lot of what I was seeing from other players. Today I picked Cunningham. Tomorrow it could be DeBusschere or Earl the Pearl.
In putting together this list, I looked at stats from nearly 250 players. Most of them eliminated themselves from consideration once I plugged their stats in the spreadsheet, but I wanted to do my due diligence. A few more guys I strongly considered for the spots I ultimately gave to Billups and Cunningham included: Damian Lillard, Tim Hardaway, Sidney Moncrief, Manu Ginobili, Chris Webber, Kevin Johnson, Dikembe Mutombo, Bob Lanier, Anthony Davis, Chris Mullin, Yao Ming, Draymond Green, David Thompson, and the other guys who made the 50th anniverary team. (As you can see, no one from that group absolutely has to make the list, but each of them has an argument.)
So that's my list. Ask me again tomorrow, and I'll probably have talked myself into at least one change and will have more arguments for why Dwight Howard was the biggest snub of this whole affair.
Anyway...
Right now "Easy" by Commodores is, probably, my 43rd favorite song of all time.
This song is just fun. That's it. That's the best and simplest way to describe it. Is it rap or pop? Doesn't matter because it's obnoxiously catchy and buoyant (and fun).
It reminds me of college; it also makes me think of summer. It belongs to a fake genre of songs that I'll call "happy-fun" songs: songs like "Walking on Sunshine" by Katrina and the Waves or "Raise Your Glass" by P!nk. These songs serve one purpose, to make the listener smile, and they do that job exceedingly well.
"Steal My Sunshine" lives in this world of one-hit wonders that don't always make sense. The rest of LEN's songs don't sound anything like it. Some of the others are good or interesting songs, but I feel no desire to dance or smile or sing along with them.
One-hit wonders have always been an interesting phenomenon and leads to some obvious questions: Why did they only produce one hit? Why didn't another song of theirs catch the public's imagination? But those questions and their answers don't really matter. Those questions ignore the fact that creating catchy and popular songs is really difficult! Can't we just be satisfied that these hits exist at all?
The perhaps more relevant question is: do we need more "happy-fun" songs? Would the world be better if it was filled with them? Maybe, but I'm not sure I would be in a better place. Sometimes I need a sad song or a chill song or an angry song or a song that makes me think. Variety is important to me. It's the reason my favorite songs aren't all happy-fun songs.
That being said, when I do need to smile or get excited or just feel happy, I'm glad I can pump up the volume on a song like this.
Right now "Steal My Sunshine" by LEN is, probably, my 44th favorite song of all time.
I've been sitting on this post for awhile. I'm not sure why I haven't been writing and posting, but just as this blog and project were becoming routine, I let it slip away. So now the post I drafted has been sitting here. And now Taylor Hawkins, Foo Fighters' drummer has unexpectedly died.
Death is often on my mind. The answer to the great question of what happens after death has haunted me for most of my life. When I was younger it was easy to accept what my parents and my church had told me, but as I have gotten older and felt the weight of my mortality on my corporeal frame, I have wondered and doubted and discussed this issue.
And as I think and pray about death, I frequently feel unsure of myself and how to respond to friends who lose loved ones. There's no easy answer; no easy way to respond and express my feelings. I often think of a letter that was written to me by a close friend after my father died. She had also lost her father, and that note meant a lot to me, partially because I knew it was genuine and that she actually knew what I was going through. I held on to that letter for a long time, but I lost it at some point during one of my many moves of my itinerant youth. When a friend has a parent die, I sometimes try to find that letter to remind myself of what I should or could say. But I still haven't found that letter, and I usually feel like I can never find the right words. I still try.
Yesterday when I saw the announcement from Foo Fighters' Twitter account I was left with an interesting choice. Do I "like" the post? That didn't feel right. While I appreciated hearing the news and want to show my own support, it felt weird to "like" such tragic news. Online social media makes it easier to share things, but it also just gives me more ways to fail to know how to respond to death.
The first memory I have of Foo Fighters was during an episode of Beavis and Butthead. They were doing their bit where they watch music videos and make silly commentary. Beavis and Butthead were arguing about whether the lead singer of Foo Fighters was the drummer from Nirvana. I remember thinking that of course it wasn't the drummer from Nirvana, it probably just looked a little like him, and they were just making fun of that. But then I saw him, there singing and playing guitar: It was Dave Grohl. I had no idea that he had started a new band, that he could sing or play the guitar, or that he was actually good enough at those things to make something of himself without Kurt Cobain.
For a long time, Foo Fighters were just Dave Grohl to me. Yeah, Pat Smear was there off and on, and I liked his guitar playing and attitude, but it was Dave's band. Sometimes it takes something tragic like a death to come to terms with a fact that I chose to ignore but that was so obvious for so long: There is no Foo Fighters without Taylor Hawkins. Dave was a drummer, but he was never Foo Fighters' drummer. Taylor was one of those many drummers out there who clearly enjoyed drumming more than most people enjoy doing anything. Dave may have founded Foo Fighters, but Foo Fighters was more than Dave. And Taylor was a big reason why.
Over the years, I always enjoyed listening to Foo Fighters' music on the radio, but I somehow never actually bought any of their albums until just a few years ago. When I used to go to the record store, there was always something else I was there to get, and I didn't have money to buy a Foo Fighters' CD too. So I contented myself with hearing them on the radio from time to time (and listening to my illegally downloaded copy of "Everlong" on my old iPod).
When I finally bought The Colour and the Shape, I was impressed. They actually had other good songs. In fact, they had some other great songs that never got played or released as singles.
"February Stars" is particularly great. I love the quiet first half of the song and the way it explodes into the loud coda. Unfortunately it doesn't lend itself well to my typical playlist classifications. Sure, it's in my general heavily played playlist, but I also have a "chill" playlist and a "get pumped" playlist, and I can't really see how I can fit this song into either one. The first half is chill and the ending could get me pumped up, but I haven't figured out how to put half the song into a playlist (nor would I want to).
That doesn't make it any less of a great song, it just means that it'll chill forever in my heavily played playlist, and I'll have to get pumped every time I hear it there.
Right now, "February Stars" by Foo Fighters is, probably, my 45th favorite song of all time.
I've been sitting here too long trying to figure out how to write this post. That's the trouble with writing without a set schedule: it becomes very easy to think way too much about what to write and how to write it perfectly rather than just writing something. Whatever I write may not end up being perfect, but editing sometimes helps.
I've been trying to wrap my head around whether the story of how I discovered this song and finally listened to MC5 was actually interesting and worth me writing about and/or you reading about. It still might not be either of those things, but here goes.
Substitute teachers are interesting people. Some are aspiring teachers; some are failed teachers; for some subbing is a side gig; for some it's semi-retirement. One guy I met when I was substitute teaching was in a local band called Kentucky Knife Fight. What a great band name! How they never made it big with such a great name, I will never figure out.
I enjoy talking to musicians about music. I especially enjoy talking to them about what they listen to. Sometimes I hear unexpected things or make new discoveries. As we talked, the Kentucky Knife Fighter told me about MC5. I had heard of them before, but never listened to anything of theirs. So on my way home, I bought one of their compilation albums on CD and gave it a listen. I recognized only one of their songs, "Kick Out the Jams" because Rage Against the Machine had covered it. I didn't end up liking much of their stuff, but I get why rockers enjoy them and why critics consider their proto-punk music important.
"Kick Out the Jams" is obviously a jam, and there was one other song I liked: "Miss X." It was fantastic. It didn't sound much like the rest of their catalog, which is probably why I liked it so much. It sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't figure out why. (I realized later that I had heard it before in the first episode of Eastbound & Down.)
When I talked to the Kentucky Knife Fighter again after listening to MC5, and I told him how much I loved "Miss X," he didn't seem to know what I was talking about. His favorite song of theirs was "High School." Even musicians get it wrong sometimes.
Right now, "Miss X" by MC5 is (probably) my 46th favorite song of all time.
I'm always majorly impressed and minorly jealous of people like Jack Johnson. As a teenager he was a world class surfer. Then as an adult he became a platinum-selling singer-songwriter. I'm only minorly jealous because as cool as that type of success seems, I've learned enough to know that I'm certainly never going to attain it.
Throughout my life I have become very good at a handful of things. When I was younger, I did well in school. I was a good enough musician to play in my college's jazz band for three years. I found success after college as a fun and (hopefully) effective camp counselor and outdoor educator. I experienced moderate (local) success playing competitive Magic: The Gathering. On some days I'm a very good teacher. I win a lot of local trivia nights.
But when I consider all of that, as good as I've been at many different things, I've never been exceptional. I never wanted to put in the work to get all A's in school. I enjoyed playing the saxophone, but didn't like practicing. I did a lot of good as a camp counselor, but I also found plenty of times to slack off. I've won more games of Magic than I've lost, but I never had much success against the best competition. I've had successes as a teacher, but I know I've let my fair share of students down too. I'm pretty good at trivia, but I have never passed the online Jeopardy test.
Could I have become world class at any of these things? Sometimes I wonder if my lack of effort is more of a protection for myself. I can always fall back on the idea that if I had decided to try harder, I could have been great. But that's the problem. I almost always choose the easier path. That's not to say that I never work hard, but it's rarely consistent. That level of work needed to excel at anything, makes things that I otherwise enjoy feel too much like work. Playing saxophone in my college's jazz band was fun. Playing Magic is fun. Working with campers and students is often fun and fulfilling. Putting in the extra work needed to become the best in any of those fields would not have been much fun.
Writing this blog is the same way. Sometimes writing is fun, and I enjoy putting my thoughts down on paper (or on screen), but too much writing feels like work. This will be my 54th entry on this blog, and it was taken me nearly two years to get that far. I definitely want to finish, but sometimes I just don't want to write.
I still want to feel the sense of accomplishment that someone like Jack Johnson must feel. I have spurts of inspiration and drive, but sitting around doing nothing feels pretty good too sometimes.
Anyway, this is a great song from a talented artist. I've written one more post. Maybe I'll start my next one tomorrow. I should probably get started on my summer reading assignment for work, but that could probably wait until next week, right? What haven't I watched on Netflix yet...
Right now, "Do You Remember" by Jack Johnson is (probably) by 47th favorite song of all time.
