A Running Diarrhea of the 41st Annual CMA Awards

An engineer friend of mine looked up from his less than average lunch, let out a soft burp, and said, “that was like eating a monkey’s ass in a hot, sweaty circus tent.”

The world is full of things we don’t want to do, and that’s why I haven’t deleted the November 7th broadcast of the Country Music Association awards from my DVR. And thus we begin the 20th iteration of this column’s slow death march through roughly 3 hours of hillbilly pop drivel.

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Posted by Jack Sparks at January 27, 2008 1:07 AM

 

Top 100 Country Songs of All Time, 2007, Numbers 11-20

The music industry is pock-marked with opportunities both realized and missed. For instance, Jimi Hendrix went on an embarrassing 3 year bender that ended in his pathetic death; and Led Zeppelin’s former pro-wrestler manager bullied the record companies and promoters into giving his band unheard of royalty rights for their music and performances in the early 70’s.

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Posted by Jack Sparks at October 12, 2007 8:19 PM

 

The Top 100 Country Songs of All Time - 2007, the first ten

It's so hard to write anymore that I have to do it in spurts. Yeah, I know there's a new Wilco album out. I also know that your college roommate's cousin took you to your first String Cheese Incident show at Red Rocks and got you high then did you a favor in the front seat of your hybrid, thus making the music that night the most incredible you'd ever heard. June means lists. Reading lists, listening lists, viewing lists; you need to know what to skim, sample, and lose interest in as your Ritalin wears off so that you can impress everyone with your worldliness over Blue Moons with orange wedges at the "dive" bar where no one is under 28. I don't want to disappoint you, although I probably will, so, whatever. This is my 15th Annual post of the 100 Greatest Country Songs of All Time, starting with the first ten, in the hopes that it will inspire me to finish and post the next ninety. If it doesn't, oh well. As you read this list, keep in mind my central belief that everything coming out of Nashville in the past 30 years is the product of a process designed to deliver a type of music to radio programmers so that they can then deliver a narrow demographic to advertisers and solidify their revenues. It's their P1 demographic, and they guard it jealously. Which is really a shame, because there are few cities full of musical talent like Nashville, Tennessee. The problem is that those with the talent are in the background, playing instruments and providing vocals to peacocks and peahens, who flash into the spotlight, make obscene amounts of money, and then spend the next few decades of their lives getting rehab and going through plastic surgery until they're almost unrecognizable. The whole thing is absolutely fucked, and it's the fault of men like Mick Anselmo and Gregg Swedberg. I offer this list simply as a counterpoint to this runaway train of ignorance and falsehood.

Continue reading "The Top 100 Country Songs of All Time - 2007, the first ten"

Posted by Jack Sparks at June 14, 2007 8:29 PM

 

The Plot Thins

From a random story about last night:

One of the series' executive producers, Cecile Frot-Coutaz of FremantleMedia North America Inc., said Tuesday she'd be happy with either contestant as the new idol.

"These are some of the most commercial finalists we've had since Carrie Underwood," Frot-Coutaz said. "Either one will make a great winner for the show and the brand. They both have the potential to sell many records."

Posted by Jack Sparks at May 24, 2007 5:03 PM

 

I hate to toss the word "authentic" around so much...

...but some are more authentic than others:

AUSTIN, Texas (AP) -- Police have issued arrest warrants for country singer Billy Joe Shaver after he shot and wounded a man outside a Texas bar, the entertainer's attorney said.

After Shaver left a bar in Lorena on Saturday night, a drunk, aggressive stranger with a knife followed him into the parking lot, said attorney Joseph A. Turner of Austin. Shaver shot him in self-defense, he said.

Police in Lorena -- about 80 miles north of Austin -- issued arrest warrants late Monday on charges of aggravated assault and possessing a firearm in a prohibited place, Turner said.

Shaver attempted to surrender to Austin police Monday night but was not arrested because the police did not have a record of the warrants, said Turner, who accompanied Shaver.

Lorena authorities could not be reached for comment early Tuesday.

Posted by Jack Sparks at April 3, 2007 1:34 PM

 

Love of Country Music not necessary

Res ipsa loquitur:

Mornings in Minneapolis
One of America's best Country Stations, K102 has a very rare opening. One of my morning show people just got his own talk show, and I need the best 3rd wheel I can find. If you: 1) Are Young or Young Thinking; 2) Don't mind working hard to make new friends; 3) Have new ideas to bring to an already great show; 4) Don't mind the cold and 5) Can be a part of a tight-knit team, well then let me know.

This is an excellent chance for young Top 40 and HAC jocks looking to crack mornings in a Top 20 Market. You don't have to love country, but you'll end up loving it. If you do already know the format, that's good too. This is a good job at a great station.

Send mp3's, resumes and pictures to greggswedberg@clearchannel, don't call me please. Keep everything under 2MB.

Clear Channel Minneapolis is an EOE.

I would call this embarrassing, but the people who work in the Mainstream Country music industry are seldom embarrassed by anything.

Posted by Jack Sparks at March 8, 2007 12:07 PM

 

RIP Kirk Rundstrom

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'

--Henry V, Act 3, Scene 1

Kirk Rundstrom, singer, songwriter and guitarist of the punk-bluegrass band Split Lip Rayfield, died Thursday morning in Wichita. He was 38. He had been fighting the effects of esophageal cancer since February 2006.

One chemo filled shit from Kirk Rundstrom, lying steaming in a Wichita gas station toilet, is worth more than 10 Kenny Chesneys. This is a sad day for me. If you haven't ever bought a new or used copy of a Split Lip Rayfield CD, today would be a good day to go out and get one.

The above link also goes to a story where you can donate to Cancer research in Kirk's name if you're so inclined.

I only saw Split Lip Rayfield about 100 times. I've got nothing but good memories...hot sweaty ones, where I made a lot of bad decisions and regretted none of them. The band's music not only has muscle, but the sinews are like shiny bands of titanium, scratched only by the figurative bullets of life, that have ricocheted off of them into the dull ether of American popular sound.

Days like today make me sick.

Posted by Jack Sparks at February 22, 2007 4:51 PM

 

The Big Game XLI

The keys to this game are Bob Sanders and Nick Harper. Sanders makes Indy's D a different unit because, surprise, he can actually tackle, something the other 10 guys can't do. Harper is hurt and plays CB for the Colts. Look for the Bears to test his side of the field, regardless of whether he's there, early, with Bernard Berrian. If these two guys play well for the Colts, it will be a good close game. If somehow they become the Achilles' heal(s), then it's going to be a long day for Indy.

It's important to note that Manning threw 9 interceptions in 16 regular season games; he's thrown 6 in 3 playoff games against the Chiefs (3), Ravens (2), and Pats (1). He had a pretty good 2nd half in the AFC Championship game, but, if he comes out flat against the Bears, that defense will bury him.

I would bet the Bears to cover the spread at the start of the game, for sure. At halftime, if Sanders and Harper look broke, sticky, and confused, I'd press, reverse the spread and maybe give a few more points. Once you see the Bill Simmons' coined "Manning Face," you'll know it's over.

Posted by Jack Sparks at February 4, 2007 10:06 AM

 

And now, a word from the Possum

Q: What do you think about the state of country music today?

JONES: They say they're upgrading country music. I tell them they need to find a new title and let us have back our traditional country music. They've stolen our identity. I don't feel like the real thing will be back for quite a while. I'd like to see new artists recording traditional country music. Not for me. I just hate to see it not heard. I hate to see the new country artists not doing their thing because they're told what to do nowadays.

Kenny Chesney, Mick Anselmo, and Gregg Swedberg,
When George Jones gave that response in that interview he was talking about you, Mainstream Country radio, and the Nashville record companies. You're all still guilty. I just wanted to point it out one more time. Thanks for reading.

Posted by Jack Sparks at January 25, 2007 9:59 AM

 

Cash fuckin only

I'm through fucking around. Tomorrow and Saturday nights, The Cabooze will be doing it's annual Cash Only gig. Both nights, local bands will take the stage and play a theme or twist on the Johnny Cash legend for approximately a half hour or 45 minute sets.

Look, if you listen to K102 and spend your money on We Fest tickets, you're a fucking moron. That's not Country. That's a bunch of fucking peacocks and peahens faking it to rake in your dough. You're a fucking sucker. The only people getting paid on that shit are Kenny Chesney, Mick Anselmo and Greg Swedberg. And the three of them don't deserve to lick the sweat off of Johnny's dead balls.

Tomorrow night, a bunch of sad sack sweaty drunk fucks with guitars cobbled together with duct tape and bailing wire are going to pour their hearts into songs written 40 to 50 years ago, and they're going to try to imagine why those songs are relevant in a world with iPods and iToilets and the whole convuluted circle is going to strain with the weight of itself.

But you know what? It will be real people really celebrating the real Johnny Cash.

So, for the 7,564th time, fuck everyone who has anything to do with Mainstream Country Music. Please don't go to the Cabooze Friday or Saturday night. And if you do, try not to embarrass yourself by singing along with songs you have no idea of which the lyrics are (is that English?) This is two nights where we don't want you around. We want to labor under our assumptions of music as art, as substance, as a part of our heritage...and you can take that P1 demographic and shove it up your asses.

Posted by Jack Sparks at January 18, 2007 11:23 PM

 

What the Buck?

Buck Owens died in his sleep of an apparent heart attack on March 25, 2006, only hours after performing at his Crystal Palace restaurant, club and museum in Bakersfield. He had successfully recovered from oral cancer in the early 1990s, but had additional health problems near the end of the 1990s and the beginning of the 21st century, including pneumonia and a minor stroke suffered in 2004. These health problems had forced him to curtail his regular weekly performances with the Buckaroos at his Crystal Palace.

The Los Angeles Times interviewed longtime Owens spokesman (and Buckaroos keyboard player) Jim Shaw, who said Owens "had come to the club early and had a chicken-fried steak dinner and bragged that it's his favorite meal." Afterwards, Owens told band members that he wasn't feeling well and was going to skip that night's performance. Shaw said a group of fans introduced themselves while Owens was preparing to drive home; when they told him that they had traveled from Oregon to hear him perform, Owens changed his mind and took the stage, anyway.

Shaw recalled Owens telling the audience, "'If somebody's come all that way, I'm gonna do the show and give it my best shot. I might groan and squeak, but I'll see what I can do.'" Shaw added, "So, he had his favorite meal, played a show and died in his sleep. We thought, that's not too bad."[4]

Okay, so I took that off of Wikipedia. But, I've been out on the ice a few days this Winter, and all that time spent on a bucket, jigging over a hole really releases the synapses of my brain and lets things bubble to the surface.

Something has been bugging me since the Country Music Association Awards. I wasn't sure what it was at the time. It was just a gnawing feeling that I missed something that night...that I missed an opportunity to take my metaphorical Sawz-All to Nashville's knees one more time. The 40th Annual CMA's were as dumbed down and awful as they were any other given year. But what was it? What was bothering me?

Then it hit me. Where was the tribute to Buck Owens? Why wouldn't they carve 5 to 10 minutes out of the bullshit and bad jokes awkwardly delivered by the Country Wham, and have 3 to 5 singers or groups do a quick medley of Buck Owens tunes?

Let me put this into persepctive...Buck had a lot of #1 songs in the 60's all the way up until the time he took over on Hee Haw. You know who had more #1's? THE FUCKING BEATLES!

This can only be described as a calculated slap in the face to the legacy of a man who purposefully avoided Nasvhille until they drove a dump truck full of money up to his house and ruined his career with that Hee Haw bullshit. Aside from that, they never got their claws on him, and he simply overran them and their asinine machinations of America's music. There was not a single person in that building that night who deserved to polish the shit off of Buck's boots, and they should all be ashamed of taking part in a ceremony that so cowardly and hamfistedly ignored his importance to what they all are now.

This is just reason number 3,568 why Nashville can kiss my ass. There's not a single thing going on in that town that's worth a shit.

Posted by Jack Sparks at January 10, 2007 10:13 AM

 

Deck the Halls...

Throw out the 18 games he played as a September call-up in 1986, and Mark McGwire played 15 seasons. Be honest with yourself, and say, worried about his future after missing most of two seasons, and only playing 104 games in a third, he began to use something in 1996, and was on it for the 1996 through 1999 seasons, when he hit 52, 58, 70, and 65 homers, respectively. Throw out those four seasons, and the two where he was hurt (93 and 94), and add up the homers...317. Three hundred Seventeen, divided by 9 seasons equals 35 homers and change. Now, multiply those 35 homers by 15 fictional seasons, and you get 525 home runs.

What does this mean? You can Sabremetricize him into the Hall based on an adjusted average of his numbers, 500 homers is an automatic ticket. However, use that fictional 35 HR average again, and subtract the differences during his 4 astonishing seasons; if you give him his 35 homers a year through those years and subtract the rest, you take 105 dingers off of his 583 total, leaving him with 478 for his career. The Crime Dog, Fred McGriff, is the only other retired player with that many homers who's not in the Hall yet. But, that number is right about the spot in the order where the Hall tickets drop off, 500 really being a magic number of sorts.

I'm splitting hairs, but the numbers for me are 9 and 22. I don't think there's any doubt he cheated to get 9 extra homeruns in a season for the record, and 22 extra homeruns for 500 in a career. Without that now surpassed record, and that 500 plateau, we probably would be haggling over whether he belonged in the Hall, but it would be more along the lines of how folks are haggling over Blyleven right now, trying to work numbers to prove he was a dominant player of some sort. Without the juice, I think McGwire was a feared hitter to an extent, and, he was part of some great teams. But in my own tortured analysis of the situation, I just don't think he belongs in the Hall.

Posted by Jack Sparks at January 10, 2007 8:54 AM

 

Stoners break Gophers' record with Video Gophers hours after historic loss

Thousands of stoners across the state of Minnesota spent Friday night attempting to beat the Gophers' newest record using their copies of NCAA Football '07. Many were successful.

Just hours earlier, in giving up a 38-7 lead and losing 44-41 in overtime, Minnesota set a Division 1-A record for the biggest choke in bowl game history.

Blake Olson, a dopehead from Crystal who prefers Thai stick quipped, "You think Mason's a shitty coach in real life, you should see him on XBOX." Olson and bongwater pal Phil Larson of Brooklyn Park, who prefers Maui Wowie, staked the Gophers to a 58-7 lead in the 3rd quarter--a conservative 20 point differential for testing purposes--before Texas Tech came roaring back in the face of suddenly one dimensional offensive and defensive gameplans.

"We're trying to find a way," said Larson, "to make Mase do his whole 'game of two halves' routine with the sideline reporter, but I think we're too baked, man." Olson later intimated that they were going to try and figure that out tomorrow morning while his mother made them some eggs.

Posted by Jack Sparks at December 30, 2006 9:25 AM

 

The Jeff Cirillo era has begun...

CityPages can't go on record telling you to go out and buy season tickets for the Twins; but, I'm telling you now, when the schedule is printed, and the rotation more or less set, go out and buy single game tickets for every Johan Santana home start, because it's going to be the last season that you see Santana, Mauer, and Morneau, together, and in Twins' uniforms.

With the offseason mayhem of free agent signings, the world has lost its mind and Barry Zito is suddenly worth $18 million per year.

Johan has won 2 of the past 3 Cy Youngs (and he should have won the other one). I'm not a member of the Twins' front office, and, I'm not a beat reporter for the Strib or the Pioneer Press. However, if you open a sports page in this town, and they report Santana's STARTING price as anything other than $20 million a year, it's a terrible lie, and you will know right then and there that no one in the cabal in this town has any respect for you as a baseball fan. Make no mistake about another thing: if Santana has just a "normal" season for him, he will be one of the finalists for the Cy Young next year, if not the actual winner, and he will have no choice but to hold out through spring training for more "realistic" money given the market that has been created by the bat-shit crazy owners of the big market teams.

It's not like the Twins were going to sign him anyway. But, Zito's signing has made a terrible situation worse. When the most dominant pitcher in the American League for the past 3 years is suddenly worth 6 to 7 million dollars a year less than a .500 pitcher with a 3.50 ERA, agents get greedy, and the Players' Union gets "equitable." E pluribus unuum translates to "pay me right fucking now (and then hang up)."

And to make things worse, Joe Mauer is worth Jeter money, right now. That's right, $18 mill a year at least. So, one of you legitimate sports writers should stop beating around the bush, call Terry Ryan, and ask him flat-out whether the Twins are prepared to pay Santana and Mauer roughly $40 million a season, combined, for five or six seasons beyond 2007. His answer is either yes or no, and, you will know the Twins' fate based on it. These aren't made up numbers, the market is set, and it's time for him to come clean. Otherwise, just call up Steinbrenner's tailor and tell him, "the number is 57."

Posted by Jack Sparks at December 29, 2006 12:00 PM

 

A Minnesota Christmas Card

The constant interogatory is, "why live in Minnesota?" And, the reply always involves the extraction of a 40 inch gator from a frothy gully on a cold Chisago County afternoon.

The snow and ice demark the season. When your lungs are cold in the mid-afternoon air, when you're wearing an extra layer, when you stand on 7 inches of ice over 15 feet of water, you contemplate much more than just existence. Frozen. The water is frozen, you are frozen, even the sunshine itself seems frozen; and then life comes exploding into the daylight, monstrous, carnal, and starved. Where the cycles of the world are observed and obeyed, life is rich with the normal hibernations and renewals of the flora. But LIFE asserts itself constantly in a world where you participate, despite what the mercury may tell you.

Christmas in Minnesota is a celebration of change. Demeter's melancholy is a myth; Persephone's vacation is a welcome respite for the old girl, and she actually relishes having the house to herself. A heart can never be cold, shuffling across a gray parking lot to a shopping mall where a pan flute reverberates the sounds of some shapeless Christmas song. Welcome Kris Kringle; welcome Jack Frost; welcome baby Yeshua. Just another tick looking for a tock.

Fireplaces crackle all over this state tonight. Sweet Boreal perfume sleeping on a crisp, heavy pillow of air, walking off one more sugar cookie and home-made fudge gut ache. Happy Holidays Minnesota. Nowhere else on Earth embraces the season quite like you.

Posted by Jack Sparks at December 25, 2006 10:06 PM