Crackity Jones' Diary

Life Goes On

Hi. Long time, no blog.

It seems like every post I write starts with an apology for not checking in more frequently. Although my last one didn't. It was 17 months ago, and it was written by a guest author. I never intended for it to be this way. Starting a blog seemed like a great idea. All the other kids were doing it, and it gave me an outlet to write about music and movies, something I was interested in pursuing professionally. I'm still interested in those pursuits, but two things have taken a toll on my contributions to this blog: My decision to write for the music blog HickoryWind.org in May 2005, and the arrival of my daughter in December of that year.

Frankly, I'm not sure how much I've been missed here. I think most of my readers are friends and co-workers, and as such they have kept track of my whereabouts in the past two years. The decision to write for HickoryWind has eaten up a huge chunk of my time, but it still has helped me achieve one of my goals; I've posted a minimum of every Thursday since the day I started. But more than just friends have read my ramblings here, and there have been several pleasant surprises. Occasionally I receive an e-mail from someone out there who wants to share information about Texas singer-songwriter Will T. Massey. I got a request to review a CD by a musician in Pennsylvania who was just looking for some honest criticism. That, to me, is the best of what the Internet has to offer: People finding people with common interests or a common need to share knowledge.

I wish I was contributing more to that back-and-forth exchange. There certainly have been things I've wanted to tell you about. Here are just a few:

The woman with the six-pack abs and sexy Australian accent who unknowingly eased my self-doubt about being a new father. It was Memorial Day weekend 2006, and I was out for a long walk with Harper before settling down to watch the Indianapolis 500. As I watched my baby daughter sleep in her stroller, I started to wonder about how I would protect her from all the evil this world has to offer. More immediately, I worried about how I would adequately provide for her. This woman and a man, both in their lat 40s or early 50s, I'd guess, were walking toward us. When they got alongside the stroller, she looked in on the sweet face of my sleeping little angel. The woman then looked at me, smiled and said, "Good job, Dad." Sometimes the smallest encouragement or validation can make an enormous difference. But you still had to hear it to get the full effect.

My joyous discovery that I can get a clean, close shave with lady razors. This discovery, like many of the best ones, was the result of a happy accident. I was out of razors, and my wife's was handy. I gave it a shot, and marveled at results produced by its triple-blade goodness. I asked Sharon to get me a razor just like hers the next time she was at the store. She asked if I'd be concerned about shaving with a razor that said "Lady Venus" on it. "I don't care if it says Pretty Fancy Lady on it," I said, and I've been using one ever since.

Sometimes I'm just hoping to test out a theory and get some feedback. I've reviewed many CDs in the past two years, and thought about many more that I like and dislike. I've come to this conclusion: An album can't be fairly judged until it has been out for five years. What sounds great in the moment might age worse than political comedy. Conversely, an album that doesn't impress upon its release might well grow into a work of art. Thoughts?

Often I've got questions that don't necessarily need answers. When a car thief steals a ride, does he or she adjust the mirrors and seat before driving off, or on the way to where they are going?

Most frequently, though, I just want to reflect on something going on in the world and try to articulate my thoughts. The Virginia Tech shootings were one instance in which I might have liked some time to sound out my thoughts. Fortunately, Sharon was, as usual, the best sounding board a guy could ask for. At a Tech alumnus, she was taking it harder than I was. I hope that in some small way that I was making it easier for her, too. The bridge collapse in Minneapolis last week almost pushed me to write. In the end, though, I couldn't think of anything profound to say. I feel sorry for the families that lost loved ones and for a city that now must commute with the disaster fresh in its mind.

Like the Tech shootings, it shattered my illusion that I was in control of my life. It's a cliche, but it's true: the time we have is precious. I want to embrace life the best I can while trying to avoid dwelling on its impermanence. I hope to stop in and update this site a little more often, but I can't make promises. I've got books to read, albums to explore, guitar chords to learn and a family that needs my love.

I'll try to write more, but I've got a lot of living I still want to do.

Oscar picks '06: Erin's supporting role

You loyal readers might remember when I launched this blog a year ago. Either way, I'll refresh your memory; the first entry in Crackity Jones' Diary was an Oscar predictions post. And you may have forgotten this, but I haven't: I predicted all but one of the winners correctly. (When, Academy? When are you going to give Scoresese a friggin' statue already?) In the year since our grand opening, Sharon and I have been blessed with the arrival of our daughter, Harper Rosine Moores. As a result, my movie budget (and time) went in the crapper. Actually, the baby has been crapping in my movie budget. I'm OK with that, but not OK with bringing you a less-than-informed opinion when it comes to Oscar picks. Fortunately, Senor Jones keeps his ear to the ground and discovered a kindred spirit/film buff right at work in the Stars and Stripes newsroom. I don't want to stretch this intro out longer than the typical bloated Oscar telecast, so without further ado I give you Ms. Erin McCann, the first guest author in Crackitytown:

Why me? I suspect it's because I prance around the Stripes office spouting random bits of movie trivia like some sort of breathing IMDB to anyone who makes the mistake of eye contact. I'm like a Tourette's patient, except movie trivia is my inappropriate profanity. Like, did you know Dan Futterman -- nominated for best adapted screenplay for "Capote" -- is Red Sox GM Theo Epstein's brother-in-law? You'll be the life of your Oscar party with that tidbit.

Anyway, because Sean's all busy with that miracle-of-life thing (Harper, by the way, being the name of nominee Catherine Keener's character in "Capote") he didn't get to see most of the movies this year. I, on the other hand, spend a large chunk of my free time with black-clad wannabe hipsters at the E Street theater. I've seen all of the major nominees with two exceptions: "Munich," (which I'll just file under "obligatory Spielberg nomination") and "Hustle & Flow" (which is in my Netflix queue, right under the five-disc "Veronica Mars" collection).

So whose asking price will skyrocket Monday morning? Who will get to add "Oscar winner" to their tagline in all the crappy movies they'll star in 20 years down the line? Behold, the nominees:

Best Supporting Actress: Amy Adams, "Junebug"; "Catherine Keener, "Capote"; Frances McDormand, "North Country"; Rachel Weisz, "The Constant Gardener"; Michelle Williams, "Brokeback Mountain"

Should win: Amy Adams. It's a high-strung movie that could have easily collapsed under the weight of its own pretension. But it didn't, in large part thanks to performances like Adams'.

Will win: Probably Rachel Weisz, who's won most of the pre-Oscar awards. Keener could sneak in here, too, with a well-deserved win. Of course, I could be saying that because I love Harper Lee, but so does the Academy.

Best Supporting Actor: George Clooney, "Syriana"; Matt Dillon, "Crash"; Paul Giamatti, Cinderella Man"; Jake Gyllenhaal, "Brokeback Mountain"; William Hurt, "A History of Violence"

Should win: I have nightmares every time I see William Hurt in a psycho-killer role. (Qu'est que c'est?) He's just so freaking good at it.

Will win: Clooney or Giamatti. This award is all about the consolation prize: Will it be Clooney, because he'll be shut out of all the other awards for "Good Night, and Good Luck"? Or will it be Giamatti, who has made a career out of being screwed over by Oscar? The Academy's probably feeling some guilt about that whole "Sideways" fiasco last year, so I'm going to go with Giamatti. His performance as Russell Crowe's ring-side champion is probably one of the best scenes committed to film this year.

Best Actress: Judi Dench, "Mrs. Henderson Presents"; Felicity Huffman, "Transamerica"; Keira Knightly, "Pride and Prejudice"; Charlize Theron, "North Country"; Reese Witherspoon, "Walk the Line"

Dench and Theron are obligatory nominees. And Knightly? Come on, give any British actress some Austen dialogue, a high-waisted dress, some come-hither curls and a dark and dreary moor, and she'll turn out a great performance. Throw in a character named "Mr. Darcy" and *I* could swoon with an Oscar-worthy performance.

This is a two-woman race between Huffman and Witherspoon. I am in awe of both performances, and Huffman was about to edge out Witherspoon's June Carter for my choice. But then "Walk the Line" came out on DVD this week and I've been watching it over and over again ... aww heck, I'm happy with either one. It's a total tossup.

Actor: Philip Seymour Hoffman, "Capote"; Terrence Howard, "Hustle & Flow"; Heath Ledger, "Brokeback Mountain"; Joaquin Phoenix, "Walk the Line"; David Straithairn, "Good Night, and Good Luck"

Should win: Joaquin Phoenix. Call me a sentimental sucker, but how can you not reward the man who had the guts to not only play Johnny Cash but actually sing Johnny Cash? The dude deserves a pat on the back, and an Oscar, too.

Will win: Philip Seymour Hoffman. Remember when Hoffman played the stoner dude in "Twister"? I'm betting most Academy voters don't, because their eyes are still stuck to the screen watching Hoffman's portrayal of Truman Capote.

What, no Heath Ledger? Nope. There's a bit of a "Brokeback" backlash this month, and I'm thinking the movie's not going to walk away with the scads of statuettes it's been nominated for. Ledger's great and all, but the other men were just better. Sidenote: In any other year, with any other field, David Straithairn would kick some serious ass in this category.

Best original screenplay: "Crash," "Good Night, and Good Luck," "Match Point," "The Squid and the Whale," "Syriana"

Should win: "Good Night, and Good Luck." I have a feeling Clooney's going to get shafted in the major categories. Plus, his writing partner is the guy who played skinny anti-terror dude in "True Lies."

Will win: Oscar loves Paul Haggis, whose "Million Dollar Baby" shut out Scorsese's "Aviator" last year. Yeah, there's the matter of Clint Eastwood's involvement with the former, but still ... I harbor a grudge.

Best adapted screenplay: "Brokeback Mountain," "Capote," "The Constant Gardener," "A History of Violence," "Munich"

I don't have a solid list of favorite books, but if I did, Annie Proulx's "Brokeback Mountain" and Capote's "In Cold Blood" would probably share top billing. "Capote" ought to take this award, but older Academy voters -- even those turned off by "the gay cowboy movie" -- may want to reward Larry McMurtry.

Best director: Ang Lee, "Brokeback Mountain"; Bennett Miller, "Capote"; Paul Haggis, "Crash"; George Clooney, "Good Night, and Good Luck"; Steven Spielberg, "Munich"

Should win: George Clooney. Clooney uses a lot of tricks familiar to your average second-year film student, but the lack of complexity doesn't mean they don't work. The movie is a hermetically sealed, black-and-white-in-every-sense exercise in history, and Clooney deserves to be rewarded for that. He also gets points for casting Tate Donovan and Robert Downey Jr.

Will win: Ang Lee. I'm really thinking "Brokeback Mountain" is going to get shut out of the Best Picture award, and voters moved by its story will choose instead to reward Lee.

Best picture: "BrokebackMountain," "Capote," "Crash," "Good Night, and Good Luck," "Munich"

Dark horse contender: "Crash." I hold Haggis personally responsible for Scorsese getting shafted last year. He wrote the screenplay for "Million Dollar Baby," which moved Clint Eastwood to direct such a great movie that Martin Scorsese YET AGAIN failed to win a best directing Oscar. Yeah, I'm still bugged by it. And I refuse to discount anything with Haggis' fingerprints on it. Plus, "Crash" was really good.

Finding Ron Freeman

(Posted in nearly indentical form at HickoryWind.org)

Crushing Hearts EP
Ron Freeman
(Basement Transmissions Records)

I’m still somewhat undecided as to how I feel about the Internet. There certainly are negative aspects of the Web. My experiences have mostly been positive, though, especially as they relate to discovering music. All Music Guide (allmusic.com) is required reading for critics and fans. Most artists now have Web sites, making it easier than ever to find out when your favorites are heading to the studio or coming to your town. And eBay has helped fill more than one hole in the music library. Never has one man’s trash become another’s treasure with greater ease.

The Internet also makes it easier for us to discover new music. That’s how I found Ron Freeman.

More accurately, Mr. Freeman found me. He discovered this blog, and thought based on the music I wrote about that I might be interested in hearing/reviewing his EP. Asking me if I’d like to hear some music is like asking me if I want some potato chips. The answer is yes, by the way, and there’s no way I’m eating just one.

One exchange of e-mails later, Freeman’s five-song "Crushing Hearts EP" was in my mailbox. Considering that Freeman is based in Erie, Pa., the chances of me coming across his CD on my own were pretty slim. He’s not even on CD Baby.

Anyway, I’m glad that Freeman found me. He’s a singer-songwriter, and judging from these five songs the solo/acoustic thing is his forte but by no means his only interest.

The first three tracks on the disc are the sort of strummy songs that could be appealing to a pretty wide segment of the HickoryWind audience. I can’t really put my finger on who I’d compare him to at the moment. He could appeal to some Ryan Adams fans, though I’m getting kind of a Conor Oberst vibe, particularly on last year’s "I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning." If you put one or two of these tracks on a mix CD, you might be able to fool casual listeners into thinking you stumbled onto some unreleased Bright Eyes (though Freeman is not a sound-alike).

As I said, Freeman’s strength is in the simple, acoustic fare. The opener, "Where Are You Tonight?," shows he has a strong sense of melody, and he gets help with gentle harmony vocals from Matt Texter and Erica Midendorf. The lyrics are good, too. I could picture Rhett Miller singing lines such as "Questions were posed/Like models in their pretty clothes" and "And bands without singles/Is like Heaven without angels/Can’t you see we all want to sing along." This one’s been growing on me the more I listen to it.

Freeman also keeps it simple on "Our Love," which boasts the catchy couplet "Our love is like a country song/And all the drunks wanna sing along." I suspect this tune is popular with the folks – drunk or not – who catch Freeman in the Greater Erie area.

The third track, "Live Forever," is definitely in the same vein as the first two. In fact, I detected a distinctly similar strum pattern on the guitar. Even though that seemed a bit tedious, it’s a pretty minor point. As on the first two tunes, I thought Freeman took care with the lyrics. The verse that goes "Your family’s broke and cigarette smoke/is filling up your lungs/You’re thinking about eternity/But you’d settle for being young/Your time has come, your time has come" got my attention the first time around.

After the first three cuts I started to think, "Maybe it would be nice if these songs had a little more instrumentation." Yes and no; it’s kind of a case of being careful what you wish for. "Will You Love Me When I’m Hungover?" is augmented by electric guitar fills, but they don’t necessarily fit. At times Mike Kloss seems to be creating tension because he’s trying too hard to fill the spaces. This song might have even been better without the electric, or at least if it had been dialed back in the mix somewhat. Overall I’d still say I enjoyed the song, just not as much as the previous three.

The final track, "Tell Me The Truth," is definitely a departure. Layered with programming and synthesizers, it’s got as much in common with New Order as it does with Willie Nelson. It wasn’t my cup of tea, but I also think such experimentation might pan out for a young artist looking to make a mark or forge a less common musical identity. Not to set the bar overly high, but David Gray certainly took a giant leap with his combination of home-recorded lo-fi and electronica on "White Ladder."

Freeman’s EP shows promise, and his effort to get it in my hands shows that he’s willing to hustle. Now I’m passing him on to you. Head on over to ronfreeman.net and check him out for yourself. You can check out "Our Love" and "Tell Me the Truth," and purchase the "Crushing Hearts EP" if you choose for only $9, shipping included. Whether you buy it is up to you. I just think it’s great the Internet has given us a chance to choose.

The Most Popular Girl In Town

Dad was more or less glued to the TV on Sunday, watching the NFL playoffs (except for that one stretch when he was cleaning up a catastrophic poo event during the exciting finale of the Steelers-Colts game), but Harper spent the day entertaining company. First, her Aunt Jennifer stopped by for some snuggle time. Then Susan came over bearing gifts of a stuffed zebra and a Virginia Tech bib featuring the fighting Hokie bird (Marcus Vick could use something or someone to clean up his mess, too). Finally, the Woodfords came over so our lil' bud Kasper could have a play date with the new baby. And here they are, from left to right: Pat, Kasper, Meaghan and Harper. A good time was had by all, and Harper scored more loot (a sleep sack and the book "Where's Baby's Belly Button?"). On Saturday, Eddie Rogers came to visit with his girls, Julia and Caroline, who brought Harper a Mother Goose toy. We have a lucky little girl, with so many caring relatives and friends. Dad and Mom are lucky, too, despite the turd on the wall.

Top 10 Albums/Songs of 2005

(Posted in similar form on hickorywind.org)

Keeping up with this blog business is hard work. It seems like every other post starts with an apology for not writing for so long. The last thing that inspired me to write was a mind-blowing U2 show in October, and I haven't mustered much ambition since then. To let myself a little off the hook, though, there has been a lot on my plate. Sharon gave birth to a healthy baby girl, Harper Rosine Moores, on Dec. 16. Our 8-pound, 3-ounce bundle of joy arrived after a long day at the hospital, and she's been taking up most of our time since then. It's been well worth it, even if she is as you read this pooping in what used to be my CD budget. On that note, it's time to get down to a piece of annual business: my top 10 albums of 2005. As an added bonus, and because I feel pressure to keep up with my esteemed colleagues at hickorywind.org, you're also getting my top 10 songs for the year. Maybe you'll agree with my picks, or maybe you'll think I'm a tin-eared hack. Either way, that's the beauty of music. There's something for each of us. And away we go:

The rise of digital music in the past couple years has had me (and a lot of other folks who spend their free time thinking about music) wondering about the future of The Album. In the ’60s and ’70s, it rose to prominence as an art form, a collection of songs making a (sometimes) cohesive statement or providing an aural snapshot of where the artist was at during that moment in time. But iTunes and other services like it are changing the game, at least for now if not for good, and consumers are pushing popular music back to a singles market, the way it largely was pre-British Invasion. As it turns out, I needn’t have worried about the album’s demise in 2005. There still were way too many out there for me to purchase, and choosing a top 10 for the year still came down to making difficult cuts. Next year, who knows? Digital music will continue to claim more of the marketplace. And with the blessing of a new baby comes the realization that Daddy’s consumerism is about to take a hit. So, at least for one more year, here are my top 10 albums and songs for 2005:

Top 10 Albums of 2005

10. "Get Behind Me Satan," The White Stripes – Although Jack White is looking more like Vincent Price’s creepy kid brother every day, he and Meg White are with each successive release adding layers of cool to what started as a wildly successful two-piece, blues-rock formula. Marimba and electric piano are the most exotic colors on "Satan," which covers a lot of stylistic ground between the heavy, riff-rock flavored "Blue Orchid" and the vaguely old-timey "Little Ghost." Even scarier than specters or Mr. White’s Urban Dracula look: the White Stripes’ best music might be yet to come.

9. "Master of Disaster," John Hiatt – Ever since Hiatt found his niche with "Bring the Family" in 1987, he has released a string of well-crafted songs on albums ranging from solid to spectacular. "Master of Disaster," which was produced by Memphis luminary Jim Dickinson and features Dickinson’s sons Luther and Cody and their band, North Mississippi Allstars, probably is more solid than spectacular. Nonetheless, the title track, "Cold River" and "When My Love Crosses Over" are all excellent examples of a master craftsman at his best. Hiatt is one of our finest songwriters, and at this point it would be hard to imagine him making a bad record.

8. "Cold Roses," Ryan Adams & The Cardinals – Of Adams’ three releases in 2005, this one (the first) tended to score the highest marks on critics’ year-end lists. There are some undeniably beautiful moments on it, such as "Let It Ride," "Dance All Night" and "If I Were a Stranger," but I took points off for the length. It’s a single stretched into a double disc, and disc two is slightly stronger. It’s also jammy but not excessively so. Obviously, the Grateful Dead did it better, but this is a reasonable and well-executed homage to that band’s 1970s work.

7. "Jacksonville City Nights," Ryan Adams & The Cardinals – I preferred "Jacksonville" because it had a nice country/Gram Parsons vibe and was more cohesive than "Cold Roses." But I didn’t like it enough to lift it more than one spot above its predecessor.

6. "Forever Hasn’t Happened Yet," John Doe – A good example of a whole living up to the sum of its parts. The former X-man enlists help from Neko Case, Dave Alvin, Grant Lee Phillips, Kristin Hersh, Smokey Hormel and Cindy Lee Berryhill, and the result is a solid piece of work that’s not afraid of being too short at 31 minutes and change. Doe’s deep, at times haunting voice makes "Forever" sound like Jim Morrison is not only alive, but turning out lo-fi roots records that sound like dispatches from America’s seamy underbelly.

5. "Rockabilly Riot! Vol. 1: A Tribute to Sun Records," Brian Setzer – I almost disqualified this disc on the grounds that it is composed entirely of covers but decided that wasn’t an important consideration. Sure, Setzer didn’t write the great material (though he got a co-writing credit for finishing one track), but he performed it perfectly. He holed up in Castle Studios in Franklin, Tenn., and turned out a gem of a tribute to the label that put rockabilly on the map. Setzer stayed true to the original versions of classics such as "Red Hot," "Flying Saucer Rock and Roll" and "Blue Suede Shoes" while still applying touches of his fiery guitar style.

4. "Okemah and the Melody of Riot," Son Volt – If every 7-year break for Son Volt will result in a disc this good, let the hiatus begin. Farrar has put out good if decreasingly accessible solo work since 1998’s "Wide Swing Tremolo," so it was good to see him back in front of an honest-to-goodness rock band. While it’s too bad that he couldn’t work it out with the original Son Volt lineup, the new band acquits itself well on "Okemah." And let’s face it: Son Volt always has been a vehicle for Farrar’s music – and he’s clearly driving the bus. The title’s allusion to Woody Guthrie’s birthplace is fitting, as Farrar’s literate songs extend the protest tradition nicely. The tunes are smart but not too smart; you don’t have to be, well, Jay Farrar, to figure out the intended target of "Bandages & Scars," "Jet Pilot" and "Endless War."

3. "Devils and Dust," Bruce Springsteen – Since I’m a big Boss fan, I had a feeling this disc would end up in my top 10. What I hadn’t counted on was how it would move up in my estimation by the end of the year. What began as a bottom-five album picked up steam with each successive listen. When I was spinning it around Christmas, the songs just felt familiar to me. That’s how I know an album is making an impression. In middle age, Springsteen is more adept than ever at sketching cinematic portraits of life and death. The subjects aren’t always pretty, but this disc is. If you’re a fan of "Nebraska" and "The Ghost of Tom Joad," then you already know what I mean. If you’re not, give this one another listen.

2. "Souls’ Chapel," Marty Stuart and his Fabulous Superlatives – Until this year, I didn’t even own a Marty Stuart disc. I liked his work, but I just never got inspired to shell out any cash-ola for it. Something about "Souls’ Chapel," Stuart’s first gospel album, convinced me to spend. Am I ever glad I did. It has all the twang of Saturday night coupled with four-part harmonies and material suited for Sunday morning. "The Gospel Story of Noah’s Ark" is a Cash-like story song, and the influence of the Staple Singers – including covers of "Somebody Saved Me" and "Move Along Train" and an guest appearance by Mavis Staples – is all over the disc. If you’re going to wear your influences on your sleeve, there’s no reason to wear those two any way but proudly.

1. "Exploration," Sarah Lee Guthrie and Johnny Irion – Maybe it’s because I miss the allegedly defunct Jayhawks, and head ’Hawk Gary Louris’ stamp is all over this one (he co-produced with Ed Ackerman). Maybe I’m just a sucker for harmony singing. Whatever the reason, this was the disc I reached for most often this year. Guthrie, daughter of Arlo and granddaughter of Woody, teams with husband Irion and the result is a dozen mature, fully realized songs that should have you singing along in no time. The apple doesn’t fall far from the family tree, as the album states its case against poverty, racism and injustice. That never stops it from being melodic. Aside from the Jayhawks influence, "Exploration" carries on in the spirit of the best folk traditions and even at times sounds like "Rumors"-era Fleetwood Mac ("Holdin’ Back").

Honorable mention: "Mercy Now," Mary Gauthier; "I’ve Got My Own Hell to Raise," Bettye LaVette; "One Take Radio Sessions," Mark Knopfler; "The Duhks," The Duhks; "Back to Me," Kathleen Edwards; "Fair and Square," John Prine; "Cruel and Gentle Things," Charlie Sexton; "The Outsider," Rodney Crowell; "Cornbread Nation," Tim O’Brien; "Why Should The Fire Die?," Nickel Creek; "Route 23," Chatham County Line; "Chavez Ravine," Ry Cooder.

Top 10 Songs of 2005

10. "Gervais," Sarah Lee Guthrie and Johnny Irion – The hardest-rocking track on "Exploration." Perhaps because that’s because it’s about a topic that stirs passions on both sides of the debate – the confederate flag controversy in South Carolina.

9. "Back To Me," Kathleen Edwards – Not content to rest on her critical acclaim garnered by 2003’s "Failer," Edwards found her inner Tom Petty and rocked out on the title track of this year’s release.

8. "I Drink," Mary Gauthier – Much of Gauthier’s "Mercy Now" is half spoken, half sung in the style of Townes Van Zandt. Apparently Gauthier also shares Van Zandt’s penchant for heartbreaking, brutally honest slice-of-life songwriting.

7. "6 String Belief," Son Volt – If this one had been written for "Trace," it would have been just one of a spate of classic Son Volt cuts. Among the songs on "Okemah and the Melody of Riot," it stands out as a decidedly anthemic mission statement: "Rock and roll around my head like a 6 string belief."

6. "Way Down," Marty Stuart and his Fabulous Superlatives – By appropriating the riff from "Baby Please Don’t Go," Stuart encapsulates his successful melding of the sacred and the profane on "Souls’ Chapel." You might be moved to pray or you might be moved to dance. Maybe it will be both. But you will be moved.

5. "4^th of July," Shooter Jennings – Jennings, son of outlaw country giant Waylon Jennings, shows no fear of his daddy’s long shadow. While his debut, "Put the O Back in Country," is a little too uneven for top-10 consideration, it still has plenty of high points. The highest of them is this track, which walks the line between power balladry and southern rock. A clip of George Jones’ "He Stopped Loving Her Today" added for good measure is a nice touch on Jennings’ bold debut.

4. "When My Love Crosses Over," John Hiatt – Hiatt’s been at this for so long he makes it seem effortless. The melody is pretty, and the shimmering guitar strums don’t hurt. Showing that he’s earned his stripes in Americana songwriting, he deftly uses the Mississippi River and exploration of the West as a metaphor for taking a chance on love. All the best ones know river imagery like the back of their hands.

3. "My Doorbell," White Stripes – The White Stripes are no run-of-the-mill guitar-and-drums act. Not anymore. Exhibit A is this funky, electric-piano-driven ditty from "Get Behind Me Satan." Jack White certainly is pasty, but he’s proving he’s got soul.

2. "Devils & Dust," Bruce Springsteen – As he did in several tracks on "The Rising," Springsteen gets inside the head of a survivor. In this case, it’s not a survivor of 9/11, but a survivor in the War on Terror left to contemplate the aftermath: "I got God on my side/I’m just trying to survive/What if what you do to survive/Kills the things you love." It’s a good question, and there are no easy answers.

1. "Let It Ride," Ryan Adams & The Cardinals – Adams’ ambitious three-release schedule for 2005 led to 41 songs on the discs, not including bonus tracks. This is head and shoulders above the other 40. Like John Hiatt, Adams is learning how to let the rivers take him where he’s going: "Moving like the fog on the Cumberland River/I was leaving on the Delta Queen/And I wasn’t ready to go/I’m never ready to go."

Beautiful Day

I just got home from one of the most amazing concerts I've ever seen, and I've been to a few. I might write more about it later, or I might just leave it at this: If you don't think that music has the power to unite people, then you've never seen U2. If you still believe it's possible to change the world, I hope you get the chance.

Patience is a virtue

If I've learned one thing about buying CDs, it's that you almost always will get a better price if you can wait.

If you don't think you absolutely need it today, wait. If it's not on sale, wait.

Just wait. It works. You'll save a few smackeroos every time.

Waiting even works if you're trying to stick it to The Man. On July 21, I wrote on my good buddy Larry's site, HickoryWind.org, about my displeasure over Starbucks landing an exclusive distribution deal for Bob Dylan's "Live at the Gaslight 1962." It wasn't so much that it was Starbucks. I'm more of a Dunkin Donuts man, but I've bought CDs (and drinks) at Starbucks. It wasn't so much that Starbucks is a ginormous corporation driving family businesses off every streetcorner, though it's no secret that I prefer independent record stores. It really was the terms of the deal. Starbucks landed the exclusive right, beginning on Aug. 30, to sell the Dylan CD for 18 months.

Eighteen months. My little girl, who hasn't been born yet, will be over a year old by the time I can go in a record store and buy this CD. I swore that I'd never go into a Starbucks and buy the disc.

I was determined to stick to my guns, but I guess we'll never know if I would have made it. Because last weekend when I was in a great record store in College Park, Md., CDpot, I found a used copy of "Gaslight." I'm not the only one that's going to find it there. They had at least five used copies.

Victory is mine.

Nationals pastime

Hello again.

There's no truth to the rumor that I filled up both arms with tatts and ran off to form a rockabilly band. I've just had a particularly tough stretch at the office, and the blog-o-rama was moved down to last on the list for a while. I'm back, though. I hope on a regular basis. At least for now.

Enough about me. How have you been?

OK, more about me. Sharon and I finally got to a Washington Nationals game yesterday, making us the last in the Greater D.C. area to do so. I'm afraid we weren't much help to the home team, as the Nats lost 6-0 to the St. Louis Cardinals and put another nail in the coffin of their playoff hopes.

I know what you're thinking. What's the big deal? You're a sports editor. You must go to baseball games all the time.

That's simply not true. But I can't blame you for thinking that way. In fact, most people I talk to think that being a sports editor is a really glamorous job. Granted, it's more glamorous than coal mining. It's just not as sweet as you might think. It's definitely a lesson in "be careful what you wish for."

Here are a few myths about being a sports editor that I'll dispel for you:

1. "It must be great to sit around and watch sports all the time": I guess that would be great, but when you have to be responsible for getting five editions of a newspaper out on time every day, it leaves little time to stay glued to the tube. I've missed more big plays in the Super Bowl than I've seen in the past 11 years.

2. "It must be great getting to go to games for free": Again, that would be great. But unless your newspaper is a corporate sponsor of a professional team, it's usually only a reporter or two who get out to the games. Going back to scenario No. 1, I wouldn't be able to be at the ballpark all the time and still get my job done.

3. "You must really love sports": I did. A long time ago. This is the dirty little secret of the sports business, people. A lot of us love sports a lot less than when we used to. I can't go so far as to say that I hate it, because I still enjoy watching college and pro football, March Madness and the baseball playoffs, particularly if the Red Sox are in it. Other than that, though, there's not much to be excited about. People outside of the sports department usually don't understand this. To those people I say this: If you read story after story about athletes holding out for more money, using performance-enhancing drugs, getting arrested for everything from drugs to beating their wives, and snorting coke off of strippers' asses, how much would you like sports?

So, needless to say, I don't have a burning desire to get out the the ballpark whenever the Nats are in town. Sharon and I both like getting out to a game on occasion, though. I also have to say, and maybe it's the former high school catcher in me, that once I get to the park I remember that I enjoy watching a baseball game and seeing the strategy unfold from the seats. Sometimes it even reminds me why I got into the sports business.

Souvenirs

The pending arrival of our daughter has forced me to undertake some long overdue spring cleaning.

Sharon and I had way too much stuff when we combined households. Probably when I moved in was the right time to weed some of it out. And I did, but not nearly enough. Now, almost four years later, the kid is pushing me into action.

I'll admit I'm a bit of a pack rat. I tend to save back issues of magazines that I subscribe to. I have various collections of memorabilia. I buy way too much music for a guy who lives in a townhouse and has resisted joining the iCult. I can also be sentimental about holding on to pieces of the past, which can only mean more boxes to move around later.

The Li'l' Peanut's entrance into the picture means parting with some of the past and embracing the future. I'm glad to do it, but clearing space for her in my life means hours of hard work. And I haven't even handled a shitty diaper yet.

I started with the guitar magazines. I weeded some out before Sharon and I got married, but I still had two boxes' worth sitting underneath the stairs in the basement. If nothing else, that space will be needed to store the changing table or crib when we're done with it. I just started tearing out articles or lessons I wanted to keep, and pitching the rest. I got it down to about 20 magazines, and I'm hopeful to do a little better. At the very least, there will be one fewer box in the basement.

Poring over some of the other boxes has been more problematic. When one of my favorite musicians or sports figures dies, I tend to collect newspapers and magazines that reported the news. As a result, there's a bunch of stuff related to the passing of Ted Williams, Roy Orbison, George Harrison, Johnny Cash and Stevie Ray Vaughan. A lot of stuff. Retirements are big, too, so there's no shortage of paper pertaining to Wayne Gretzky, Larry Bird, and Cal Ripken Jr. down there.

I've been a lot more reluctant to part with this stuff, particularly the music mags. I'm not sure why. I've gotten less sentimental about a lot of things. I considered throwing out the jacket I got for winning the Maine state high school football championship in '87. I didn't, but I thought about it. Because it doesn't really mean anything to me anymore. It was fun at the time, and I had a lot of fun with my friends. But it isn't part of my life anymore. It's almost like it happened to another person.

There will be fewer sports items saved from now on. That's for sure. After 11 years in sports departments and an increasing number of scandals, there's not much to look up to in sports anymore. There sure as hell aren't any heroes taking the field. September 11 finally drove it home for me. Cops and firefighters knew they were going to die in the towers. They went in anyway. Maybe Mark McGwire would have done the same, but I'm not betting my check on it.

I've found good homes for some of the sports stuff, so I'll rest easy knowing that the new owners will get enjoyment from it. The music keepsakes are staying, at least for now. I don't know if our little girl will care who Kurt Cobain and Carl Perkins were. They might not be part of her life, but their music, and that of many others, was with her daddy through good time and bad times. They're not going anywhere.

Singing a new tune

I started feeling old today.

My friends will tell you I started acting old a long time ago. I can be pretty cranky for 35. I started looking old a while ago, too. Too many mornings I find myself walking awkwardly when I get out of bed, trying to shake off creakiness in the knees, stiffness in my back or the nagging pain that has moved into my shoulders.

It wasn't until today that I started feeling old. It didn't surprise me too much. With a little girl on the way, I've been looking over my shoulder for the past few weeks, just waiting for it to catch up to me. Despite my vigilance it still caught me a little off guard, overtaking me in a place I normally feel safe and confident -- the record store.

Since I hadn't been there for a while, the wife and I headed over to Orpheus Records this afternoon. In the past few years, I've found dozens of great deals on used vinyl. I rarely go with a purchase in mind. I just start looking through the bins and wait for the surprises. I've replaced old Springsteen and Stray Cats albums that suffered from overuse or neglect. I've found reissues from Johnny Burnette, Link Wray and Uncle Tupelo that I've been able to enjoy on vinyl. I've discovered some excellent folk/bluegrass albums there as well, such as Dan Crary's "Guitar" and Norman Blake's "Whiskey Before Breakfast."

Today, I walked out empty-handed.

It's not unprecedented, but it is rare. There are thousands of albums in there, just waiting for good homes. I normally adopt one or two. There were some candidates who came close to joining the family today. I looked over a Gene Vincent reissue. I pulled out an old Gordon Lightfoot album my father played a lot when I was a kid, turning it over in my hands and remembering the way those songs sounded to me. There were a bunch of great John Hartford albums (I suspect there isn't another kind). Nothing made the cut.

I supposed it could have something to do with my turntable being broken. I doubt it. It will be fixed soon, and when it is that Gene Vincent would sound great.

I say I started feeling old today because I think it was my own conscience and sense of responsibility that kept my wallet in my pocket. I've known for a while that when the Li'l' Peanut arrives I'm going to have to change my habits. Fine-tuning our music library will have to take a back seat to diapers and the college fund. But those habits hadn't changed yet, until today.

Maybe that will all change tomorrow. Maybe when I wake up I'll be convinced that we can't live any longer without owning "James Taylor's Greatest Hits" or Muddy Waters' "Anthology." It's hard to tell with me.

Part of me hopes that my self-restraint kicked in today. It's nice to know there are a few things I love even more than music.