Housecleaning: Best Songs of 2007 / Baseball / Michael White

Songs of Yesteryear

Alright, time to face facts: I've lost that loving feeling as far as writing about 2007 is concerned. It just feels so, I don't know... over. So rather than hem and haw and force myself to spew out a thousand dispassionate and listless words on the topic of the best songs from that long-ago time, as I had promised to do, I will instead just give you the list, and let you fill in snarky/clever/thoughtful and poignant little write-ups about each one.

So, the songs, in the order they appear on the TiOM: Bo2007 CD (i.e. not ranked) are:

01 His Name is Alive, “Sweet Earth Flying”

02 Beirut, “Cliquot”

03 Iron & Wine, “Wolves (Song of the Shepherd’s Dog)”

04 Yeasayer, “2080”

05 Burial, “Shell of Light”

06 M.I.A., “Paper Planes”

07 Chromatics, “In the City”

08 Battles, “Atlas”

09 Kanye West, “Stronger”

10 Caribou, “Melody Day”

11 Spoon, “You Got Yr Cherry Bomb”

12 Stars, “Take Me to the Riot”

13 Robbers on High Street, “The Fatalist”

14 Feist, “I Feel it All”

15 Band of Horses, “Is There a Ghost?”

16 The Arcade Fire, “Keep the Car Running”

17 Okkervil River, “Our Life is Not a Movie or Maybe”

18 The National, “Apartment Story”

That was weird. I don't even remember 2007.


Baseball

Nextly, it's no secret to anyone who occasionally reads this blog that I love (lurve!) baseball, but I suspect that many of those who do frequent TiOM are not exactly what you'd call "baseball fans." So rather than subject them to the arcane and pithy details of the game and my rants thereon, when all they're really looking for is my incredibly narrow view of the world of music, I've created a new spot for all things beisbol related. Trip on over to The Bottom of the Order (bottomoftheorder.blogspot.com) if you're interested. If not, stay put.


Michael White

Okay, I'm very excited about this: I have just this very evening conducted an interview with the great jazz violinist Michael White. I've mentioned him here before, but you can expect something more detailed to appear in the days (weeks?) to come. Very gracious man, and a wonderful conversation. It blew my mind just a little bit that this man, who has played with Dolphy, Coltrane, Joe Henderson, John Handy, and scores of others, was answering the questions I was asking as I sat at my kitchen table (thank you, Skype!) The interview will air on January 24 on Now's the Time. More details as that date approaches.

In Praise of John McDonald

This post is in no way about music, unless I decide to reel off some purple prose about the rhythm and musicality of a baseball player’s defensive prowess, which I won’t do. It is rather a sincere appreciation for Toronto shortstop John McDonald, who routinely makes the impossible (or the highly unlikely) appear routine.

He’s not to be confused with the scores of other John M(a)cDonalds out there. Not Sir John A. MacDonald, reputed lush and first prime minister of Canada, and not John D. MacDonald, author of such colourful classics as Dress her in Indigo and The Turquoise Lament (which, by the way, would make a wonderful/terrible band name).

He’s John J. McDonald, a much-journeyed infielder who finally seems to have found a place on the left side of the Rogers Centre turf. Granted he doesn’t swing much of a stick, but he probably saves a run or two a game (maybe baseball needs the equivalent of hockey’s plus/minus stat?). And he’s a hell of a lot of fun to watch.

Diving stops, throws from his knees, short flips to Aaron Hill at second, an effortless grace while racing to cover the bag, and all of it with an air of humility, a sort of blue collar, put-your-head-down-and-do-it work ethic. No flash, no boastfulness, no trash. Just good baseball.

Dedicated to You: Atlanta Blues

There are tears today in Atlanta, figuratively speaking, as Hank Aaron’s homer total slides to number two on the all-time list. I am, as many are, conflicted over this. No doubt, Bonds is a skilled player. There are few who can put wood on the ball the way he can, and there is as yet no smoking gun as regards his apparent steroid use. Even if there were, it would reflect a graver indictment on baseball itself then on a man who took advantage of MLB’s blind eye as it wooed fans back into the fold after the Great Robbery of 1994. But Bonds is unquestionably a far less classy man than Henry Aaron, and his ascendancy reflects something the game has lost.

The question nags at me: how will I share this with my daughter?

And poor Hank. What must they have had on him to make him record that message? So to Hammerin’ Hank, I dedicate Sara Martin’s “Atlanta Blues,” and with it a wish that time produces a new home run king, someone with Aaron’s carriage and good grace, someone I can admire alongside my daughter.

An Open Letter to PF

You ask the impossible, of course, but here’s my best effort (as of this moment):

1) Wonder Boys
2) Bull Durham
3) The Third Man
4) Out of Sight
5) The Long Goodbye

Oh, uh, probably should've made room for The Royal Tenenbaums, too. Oh, well.