Ryan O'Connell

On Tuesday, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame announced nominees for the class of 2022, a list of acts highlighted by Rage Against the Machine, Beck, Eminem, A Tribe Called Quest, and Dolly Parton. Yes, Dolly Parton is not in the Hall of Fame. Neither is Lionel Richie (as a solo artist) nor Pat Benatar. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, like most Hall of Fames (and awards in general) doesn’t really make a lot of sense. Now, for the most part, the general consensus is that this crew of nominees is both solid and deserving. First-time nominees like Beck, Eminem, and A Tribe Called Quest can all make a good case for why they should be nominated, while the aforementioned Parton and Benatar deserve to have their name called. For crying out loud, Parton wrote “I Will Always Love You” and “Jolene” on the same day and helped fund initial research for the COVID vaccine. I’m not sure what else she has to do. Maybe cure cancer? Give her time, kid. Rage Against the Machine feels like a first-time nominee, but they’ve actually been nominated four times already, striking out each time. You have to think that this is the year, right? Dionne Warwick is nominated for a second time and who knows, maybe being super fun on Twitter might prove to be an asset? Even though everyone seems okay with the nominees, there’s obviously going to be some grumbling from the back of the room about who didn’t get nominated. WHAT ELSE DOES TOAD THE WET SPROCKET HAVE TO DO, YOU BASTARDS? They wrote, “Fall Down” for crying out loud. Do they also have to a hand in coming up with a COVID vaccine, maybe one for kids under five? I mean, that’d be pretty sweet. So…maybe? Whatever. This is not the Toad the Wet Sprocket discussion. That obviously deserves more time. This is the Phish discussion. More specifically, it’s the should Phish be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame discussion. Should Phish be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? Who cares? No, I’m serious. Should they? I’m serious too. Who cares? Okay, well, Phish fans do? Great. So they tend to think the band does deserve to be in the hall. I’m sure they do. And I don’t know, maybe Phish does deserve to be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame but at the same time, who gives a shit. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is weird and the band already kind of is in the Hall of Fame because their famous hot dog is there. That’s pretty sweet and you could argue that it means more than the band actually being inducted. Does it though? Probably not. But whatever. It’s an award and awards are dumb. Doesn’t Phish seem like the kind of band who could care less about awards? Yeah, kind of. So why should fans then? It’s phans. Shut up. Okay, fine. But in some sense, getting nominated into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is validation, recognition that what an artist has done means something in the grand scheme of things. I think with that in mind, Phish definitely deserves to be there. As someone pointed out on Twitter today, “they are routinely on the highest-grossing tour list, they’re masters of industry/musical innovation, they pioneered online downloads AND the modern festival.” And when they appeared on the cover of Rolling Stone in 1998, they called the band “the most important band of the ’90s.” The 90s! So much happened in music during that decade that to call them the most important band of the decade is in the words of Andy Samberg playing Nic Cage, “high praise.” You can make a case for them getting in based on their influence on the live music side of the ledger, but I think where the argument hits a wall is when you look at their albums. Proceed. Of their fifteen studio albums, only six have managed to go Gold. Three of them have cracked the top ten with Billy Breathes and Fuego reaching number seven and The Story of the Ghost reaching number eight. They’ve done a little better with songs. Both “Heavy Things” and “The Connection” reached number two on Billboard’s Adult Alternative Airplay chart. However, the last song they had to make any noise on that chart was “Breath and Burning,” which made it to 23 in 2016. They’re not exactly tearing up the charts. So what’s your point? It’s kind of a one-lane highway with Phish. They don’t have tiers of success. Yes, they are a touring juggernaut, and that matters. But on the flip side, they don’t have much of a legacy when it comes to success commercially with sales and charts, which is something the hall factors in when nominating acts. Wait, how does the Hall decide who gets nominated? From a press release that came out today: “To be eligible for nomination, an individual artist or band must have released its first commercial recording at least 25 years prior to the year of nomination. Factors such as an artist’s musical influence on other artists, length and depth of career and the body of work, innovation, and superiority in style and technique are taken into consideration.” Okay, helpful. Thank you. But breaking that down into bullet points, doesn’t Phish have a case? They released their first album well over 25 years ago, their influence is undeniable, the length & depth of their career can be summed up by the fact that they tore shit up in the summer of 2021 with the fire of a thousand splendid suns, innovation is their bread and butter and no one can question their chops. Yes, I think their influence is undeniable but I also think their influence is mainly undeniable as a live band, which goes along with my point of them only operating on one side of the ledger. What about the length and depth of their career? Yeah. Great. They’ve been around forever. But that’s just one thing to consider. Fine. What about the Grateful Dead? They’re a close historical comp and they were inducted in 1994. If they can get in, why can’t Phish? I defer to Steven Hyden on this one. Classic rock radio stations probably play a Dead song once a day. Who plays Phish? Maybe the local college station? Kind of not the same thing (and that’s no disrespect to college radio stations. My favorite local station is one and yes, every once in a while I hear a Phish song, but even with them, I hear the Dead more.) But what about something like Big Cypress or the Bakers Dozen run? Notches on that side of the ledger. But I think when it comes to the hall, everything needs to be considered and Phish’s near-complete absence from whatever you want to consider the mainstream matters. If something like Billy Breathes was bigger and/or maybe “Down With Disease” was more of a radio hit, it would be a different story. Well… Well, nothing. I think that’s that and there’s not much that can be done about it. AND THAT’S FINE. Who the hell cares about Phish getting into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Phish is Phish. It’s a community and a family. Who cares about outside approval? Phish fans love Phish and that should be all that matters, especially at this stage of the game. I get the desire to want the band to be recognized for their achievements by folks outside the tent and I think at some point that will happen, but that’s not now and probably won’t be anytime soon. Direct your concerns elsewhere, Phish fans. At some point, the Hall will come calling but until then… Rage and Tribe should get in though, right? Oh yeah. Hundred percent. Ryan O'Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. In short order, Ryan loves the Boston Red Sox, New England Patriots, the Black Keys, the Roots, his family, The Wire & the writing of Dave Eggers although his last couple books have been “meh” at best. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. To read more from Ryan, visit GiddyUpAmerica.com

The halftime show of the 2022 Super Bowl is not messing around. In the first Super Bowl held at the brand spanking new SoFi Stadium in Los Angeles, hometown boy Dr. Dre is taking the helm, captaining a ship that includes Kendrick Lamar, Snoop Dogg, Eminem, and Mary J. Blige. You could make an argument that two of those performers (Kendrick and Eminem) could probably headline the show on their own. But Dre has assembled them like Infinity Stones and much like Thanos is set to do some damage. I mean, not exactly like Thanos. Just want to clarify that for anyone keeping score. This comes a year after The Weeknd performed, a performance that was cool if not mildly unsettling. Yet to be fair, The Weeknd’s music has always felt like it belongs after hours, so having him perform in primetime never really made sense from the moment it was announced. He did seem to benefit from a lack of a Super Bowl-sized crowd though, allowing him to play to the camera more than the audience, something of a natural move given the evolution of the gig. Over the last decade, the halftime show has been transitioning from a live spectacle to a televised one. I’ve often wondered what it must be like seeing the show in person because it has certainly seemed as if the folks actually in attendance are an afterthought. The artists performing seem to be gearing everything to the folks at home, not those actually there. It’s hard to nail down when this shift actually began to happen but it feels like it has coincided with the shift in who is performing, the move from rock bands to pop artists. This transition to the halftime show’s latest era began at the start of the last decade, probably unofficially in 2011, when the Black Eyed Peas played. Since that year, it’s been one pop act after another, with two exceptions: Coldplay and Maroon 5, two bands that are “rock bands” but also pop. So it was a deviation but not a major one. The Red Hot Chili Peppers also performed, backing Bruno Mars in 2014. But frankly, the best said about that performance, the better. If we’re currently in the Pop Star-Centric Era, what were the previous eras? I’m so glad you asked. The Marching Band Era (1967 – 1968) Marching bands would be a fixture during the halftime show for at least the next two decades, but what made these first two Super Bowl halftime shows unique was that they didn’t include a theme. They just featured marching bands. That’s it. Super Bowl I featured the marching bands from the University of Arizona and Grambling State University performing with trumpeter Al Hirt. The music was accompanied by the Anaheim High School Drill Team and Flag Girls, 300 pigeons, and 10,000 balloons. One year later at Super Bowl II in Miami, Grambling State University returned to perform, this time getting the gig all to themselves. Not even the pigeons were there. An exact balloons count is unknown at this time. The First Era of Themes (1967 – 1979) Themes were incorporated into the halftime show starting with Super Bowl III in Miami. Why? It’s simple. Everyone loves a good theme. That year, the theme was “America Thanks” and featured the marching band from Florida A&M University, as well as various high school bands from the Miami area. Again, no pigeons. Next year at Super Bowl IV, the halftime show was the first one to really highlight and feature performers that weren’t a marching band. Although don’t worry, a marching band still performed. With the game in New Orleans, the theme was “Tribute to Mardi Gras.” The Southern University Marching Band played alongside Al Hirt, Marguerite Piazza, Doc Severinsen, and Lionel Hampton. Two years later at Super Bowl VI, also in New Orleans, the theme was “Salute to Louis Armstrong.” The show featured Hirt once again, as well as Ella Fitgerald, Carol Channing, the USAFA Cadet Chorale, and the U.S. Marine Corps Drill Team. It was the first halftime show to not feature a marching band from a university. No pigeons either. Throughout the seventies, themes ranged from “Happiness Is” at Super Bowl VII to “Tribute to Duke Ellington” at Super Bowl IX. In 1976, the theme was “200 Years and Just a Baby: A Tribute to America’s Bicentennial” and featured Up With People, a group of enthusiastic youngsters looking to inspire everyone through the power of song. Up With People made their halftime show debut five years earlier, performing alongside the marching band from Southern Missouri State University. They would perform at the halftime show a handful of times throughout the 1980s because of course they did. The 1980s were weird. You know, just in case you forgot. Disney got into the halftime show game in 1977 at Super Bowl XI. With a theme of “It’s a Small World,” the show, based on the ride at their theme parks, featured the Mickey Mouse Club, as well as the LAUSD All-City Band. It was also the first halftime show to feature crowd participation, with the crowd waving different colored placards throughout the performance as well as a section of Dads sleeping through the whole thing, something you also find when going on the actual ride. Disney is nothing but thorough. The Second Era of Themes (1980 – 1991) Themes at the halftime show continued into the 1980s with the first game of the decade, Super Bowl XIV in Pasadena, having a theme of “A Salute to the Big Band Era.” Up With People was back for this one, as was the Grambling State University Marching Band. For the Up With People heads out there, the group of well-meaning youngsters would go on to perform two years later at Super Bowl XVI in the Pontiac Silverdome in Michigan where the theme was “Salute to the 1960s and Motown.” They would also perform at Super Bowl XX in New Orleans where the halftime show theme was “Beat of the Future.” Disney, after producing the 1977 show, would produce two halftime shows in the 1980s, the first one in 1984 at Super Bowl XVIII in Tampa where the theme was “Salute to Superstars of Silver Screen.” It featured the marching bands from the University of Florida and Florida State University. Disney then produced the halftime show at Super Bowl XXI in 1987, again at the Rose Bowl, with a theme of “Salute to Hollywood’s 100th Anniversary – The World of Make-Believe.” The show included performances from halftime show veterans the Grambling State Marching Band, as well as the marching band from the University of Southern California and drill teams and dancers from area high schools. Disney characters, George Burns and Mickey Rooney were also part of the festivities. Don’t even ask. There were no pigeons. The last two halftime shows of the 80s both started to hint at the bigger productions that were to come in the next decade. Super Bowl XXII in San Diego included a theme of “Something Grand” and with it, 88 grand pianos, Chubby Checker, The Rockettes, and the combined forces of marching bands from both San Diego State University and the University of Southern California. A year later in Miami at Super Bowl XXIII, rock and roll from the 1950s was celebrated, as well as the magic of 3-D because I guess that combination makes sense. The show featured an Elvis Presley impersonator joined by dancers from all over Florida, but more importantly, a barrage of 3-D images. Again, the 80s were weird. The Era of Themes Plus Big Name Headliners (1991 – 2004) In the 1990s, the Super Bowl halftime show began to change and evolve into the spectacle that we know today. Super Bowl XXIV in 1990 and Super Bowl XXVI in 1992 still featured university marching bands but the bands would soon be replaced by pop stars. Yet the real shift happened in 1991 at Super Bowl XXV. The show, again produced by Disney, included the New Kids on the Block, who were at the height of their popularity at the time. The band’s performance was bookended by children singing “It’s A Small World After All.” Themes in the 1990s included “Rockin’ Country Sunday” at Super Bowl XXVII in Atlanta featuring a handful of country stars, “Take Me Higher: A Celebration of 30 Years of the Super Bowl” at Super Bowl XXX in Arizona highlighted by Diana Ross and “Salute to Motown’s 40th Anniversary” at Super Bowl XXXII in San Diego that featured Motown legends Smokey Robinson and the Temptations, as well as Boyz II Men, Queen Latifah and making their triumphant return, the Grambling State University Marching Band. Super Bowl XXXIII in Miami had a theme of “Celebration of Soul, Salsa, and Swing.” Stevie Wonder, Gloria Estefan, and swing band Big Bad Voodoo Daddy all performed, all but ensuring that as a society, we never forget the regrettable swing fad of the late 90s. The only halftime show of the nineties to not feature a theme happened at Super Bowl XXVII. Although to be fair, you could just say the theme was “Michael Jackson.” Themes continued into the early 2000s, although they were mostly an afterthought. Shows started to feature top-line talent and some of the biggest acts in music. “Tapestry of Nations” at Super Bowl XXXIV in 2000 starred Phil Collins, Christian Aguilera, Toni Braxton, and an 80 person choir, and next year at Super Bowl XXXV there was “The Kings of Rock and Pop” featuring Aerosmith (i.e. the “Kings of Rock”) and the Kings (and Queens) of Pop: ‘NSYNC, Brittany Spears, Mary J. Blige, and Nelly. At Super Bowl XXXVI in New Orleans, the theme was “Tribute to Those Killed in the September 11th Attacks.” U2 performed solo, the first time the halftime show was a single-bill affair since the Michael Jackson halftime show almost a decade earlier. U2 was still at the height of their popularity at the time — they hadn’t even dreamed of dropping an album all sneaky-like onto your phone when you weren’t looking yet — and to a nation still reeling from the attacks of 9/11, they were perfect to provide some healing. And for what it’s worth, it did; they provided what was a beautiful and memorable moment. Call it the right band for the right time or call it a win all the way around, but still, U2 were the exception. The veteran rockers had the ability to provide a catharsis for people and not have it seem cheap or cheesy. Just look at what they did in Paris a little over a decade later. After a themeless year in 2002, themes were back at Super Bowl XXXVIII, the last one to include a theme. “Choose or Lose” featured Jessica Simpson, P. Diddy, Nelly, Kid Rock. But the show would go on to be best remembered as the halftime show where Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson performed. And you probably remember what happened then. The Post-Nipplegate Era (2005 – 2012) At the tail end of Super Bowl XXXVIII’s halftime show, that thing happened with Timberlake and Jackson and as a result, the next decade-plus of Super Bowl halftime shows would be a delicate back and forth between performers that were trustworthy and performers that were questionable, but not all that risky. It was a wonderful run of course corrections and reactions to the year before, kind of like Weezer’s entire career. The end result was a run of halftime shows featuring legendary rock bands, massive pop stars, and sometimes, a combination of the two. The first artist to perform in the Post-Nipplegate Era was Paul McCartney, someone who was all but a guarantee not to show a boob during the performance. McCartney was a safe pick, albeit an uninspiring one. But what did everyone expect? It’s Newton’s Third Law, kids. “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.” You show a boob on national television, you get Paul McCartney. And then you get the Rolling Stones, who performed a year later at Super Bowl XL. The NFL was obviously feeling slightly reassured about things the next year, making them confident enough to take at least a little bit of a risk as Prince was tapped to play the halftime of Super Bowl XLI. Everything seemed on the up and up until he acted like his guitar was his penis and just like that, Super Bowl XLII featured Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Super Bowl XLIII starred Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band and Super Bowl XLIV included The Who. Again, Newton’s Third Law. By the time 2011 rolled around the NFL once again felt at least mildly reassured that musicians were able to behave themselves in public and the Black Eyed Peas were called to perform, joined by Usher and Slash of Guns ‘n Roses. They did fine and the next year at Super Bowl XLVI Madonna was the headliner. Madonna behaved herself, but M.I.A., who was brought along to perform, flashed the middle finger at some point. Thankfully, reactions were kept largely in check (in public at least) and Beyoncè was brought in to perform at Super Bowl XLVII, helping to usher in a new era for the halftime show. The Biggest Pop Star In The World Era (2013– Present) Following Beyoncè’s dominant performance in 2012, Bruno Mars damn near shocked everyone and killed it the next year. That was followed by a delightfully entertaining Katy Perry performance in 2015. Headed into Super Bowl 50, there was plenty of speculation about who might perform but barely anyone mentioned Coldplay, which made the announcement that the band had been selected for the gig all that more surprising. Or to be even more accurate, the news was met with a resounding “meh.” A lot of the criticism was rooted in the very credible argument that they weren’t “a Halftime Show band” or framed by the popular question — “was Taylor Swift not available?” Of course, right from the jump, there were rumors of a Beyoncè appearance. After all, it was hard to ignore that she was on the band’s album that had been recently released. Besides, the general consensus was that in order to be successful, Coldplay would need help. Who better than Beyoncè? Well, as it would happen, Beyoncè and Bruno Mars. By the time Bey had confirmed her part in the year’s biggest performance and dropped the incredible “Formation” on the day before, barely anyone was considering the Halftime Show to be Coldplay’s. It was all about Beyoncè now. Even Mars was an afterthought, but at least he was an afterthought before Coldplay. Throughout the first and second quarter of the game, Twitter was on Beyonce-watch. Sure, CBS kept saying it was Coldplay coming up at Halftime, but Beyoncè was the real draw. We all knew it, we all felt it, we all said it. And then it happened and as was to be expected, Beyonce stole the show from both Coldplay and Bruno Mars. Although if we’re being fair, Bruno Mars (joined by Mark Ronson) held his own. Reaction on Twitter was tough but fair. But it wasn’t Coldplay’s fault! They tried. They gave it their all. In the end, they were simply collateral damage in the halftime show’s burgeoning war with rock bands. The gig has become such a spectacle, such a production, that a band simply standing there and playing their instruments wouldn’t cut it. Again, not their fault but facts are facts. I mean, the next year Lady Gaga effin’ jumped off the roof of the stadium! A band can’t do that! Few people can do that! Lady Gaga played the halftime of Super Bowl LI all by her damn self because she’s Lady Gaga and she didn’t need anyone to come out and perform with her. She not only killed her performance but she killed the idea that a rock band could ever play the halftime of the Super Bowl again. Justin Timberlake came back to perform the next year and pulled his set off without showing anyone’s boob, which I’m sure was a relief to the NFL. He had a band with him (as well as a marching band!) but for the most part, it was again a massive pop star performing, which at this point, just made sense. Actually, it made as much sense as Maroon 5 being named the performer for Super LIII didn’t make sense. Ugh, Maroon 5. I didn’t even know they were a thing anymore and I’m not sure Adam Levine did either. Are the other members in the band kept in a Westworld-like cold storage facility, waiting for him to call and see if they want to perform? Whatever. Who cares. Maroon 5 played and were joined by Big Boi and Travis Scott and perhaps the most memorable thing about the whole deal was how unmemorable it was. Many asked why the NFL hadn’t gotten someone bigger, someone, like Rihanna or Cardi B. But then it came out that both had declined to play, standing in solidarity with Colin Kaepernick, who had been effectively blackballed from the league. So, then you get Maroon 5. At least it was a good game, right? Oh, yeah. Nevermind. And that brings us to Jennifer Lopez and Shakira performing in 2020, The Weeknd’s set in 2021, and now Dr. Dre and friends performing this year. Next year, who knows? If any band were to get the nod, it could maybe be the Foo Fighters, but I wouldn’t put any money on that. The safer bet would be someone like Ed Sheeran, Dua Lipa, Olivia Rodrigo, or shit, bring Beyoncè back. Anyone besides a band. Those days, like the ones where marching bands and themes were involved, are over. Ryan O'Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. In short order, Ryan loves the Boston Red Sox, New England Patriots, the Black Keys, the Roots, his family, The Wire & the writing of Dave Eggers although his last couple books have been “meh” at best. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. To read more from Ryan, visit GiddyUpAmerica.com Portions of this piece originally appeared on UPROXX & Heavy

It’s going to snow, kids! Well, maybe. Reports as of Thursday afternoon are a little scattered if you will. For instance, I look at AccuWeather and it says we’ll either get one to three inches or at least a foot. Middle ground? There is no middle ground. This storm, Winter Storm Kenan, is as divided as our gosh darn political system in this country, am I right? But yes, Winter Storm Kenan. It could be a doozy. If there weren’t more pressing matters right now like Joe Rogan explaining what constitutes a black person, the NFL playoffs, and *checks notes* oh God, another Kanye album, Kenan would be all people here on the Eastern Seaboard could talk about. Instead, it’s just kind of out there, milling about, biding its time until we have a moment to give it some attention. I’d say give it a few more hours. Once things become a little bit more clear and if it seems that a storm, a “bomb cyclone,” is indeed imminent, you know what’s going to start happening. How much snow are we supposed to get? When is the snow supposed to start? Will it be wet snow or nice, pillowy soft snow? No really, how much snow are we supposed to get? It’s going to snow. We get it. It’s probably going to snow a lot. You’re going to be hunkered down for the foreseeable future with nothing but your wits, Netflix, and Oreos to get you through. On the plus side, for at least a day or two, trying to hide from COVID shouldn’t be a concern. So there’s that, right? Plus there are new episodes of Ozark to watch and if you skipped Station Eleven, now is your chance to right that massive wrong. I think we should turn our attention to something else if you ask me. We should spend our last few snow-free hours talking about something other than the incoming snowstorm because endless snow talk just becomes kind of a bummer. It’s like rehashing the final season of Game of Thrones. What’s the point, right? It was a bummer. Done and done. Watch the first few seasons. They were the best. Season three was the show’s high watermark. But whatever, no snow talk. I say that instead of talking about snow as in weather, let’s talk about snow as in Snow, the Canadian reggae/rapper. You know, the guy who sang “Informer.” Admit it, you remember “Informer.” However, when was the last time you even thought about Snow? Cue: crickets. I thought so. Come August of this year, it will have been thirty long and lonely years since Snow dropped “Informer” on us, riding the wave of white dude pop-rap ushered in by the success of one Vanilla Ice. Has the world been the same since? Yeah, probably. But that’s beside the point because for one wonderful moment in time, a white dude from Canada spitting completely incomprehensible lyrics by affecting a not-great patois provided the soundtrack to our lives and now, with mountains of snow (maybe) bearing down on us, thinking back to that glorious time and more importantly, wondering how the hell did that happen, is what we should be busying ourselves with. So, How Did Snow Happen? Snow happened because a white Canadian fella named Darrin O’Brien grew up in a housing project outside of Toronto. Growing up in such an environment meant that he was exposed to what sociologists call a “diverse neighborhood” or because it’s Canada, a “diverse neighbourhood.” In said neighbourhood, there was a large population of Jamaicans due to the immigration policies of then Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau (the father of current Prime Minister Justin Trudeau,) and as a result, O’Brien’s neighbors were a Jamaican family. This family introduced a young O’Brien to reggae and bestowed upon him the nickname “Snow.” A legend was born. Just like that. Well, actually, the legend was born when Snow hooked up with a Jamaican-born DJ, Marvin Prince, who began working with the rapper/singer. A few years later, 12 Inches of Snow was released, an album that included “Informer,” and would go on to sell more than a million copies. Wait, I skipped over Snow being thrown in jail for allegedly trying to kill someone! Should I have mentioned that? Well, now you know. I bet you can’t guess where he got the inspiration for “Informer?” Apparently, Snow harbored some beef with the justice system, resulting in him I guess, wanting to “a likka boom boom down.” And speaking of that… What The Hell Is Snow Saying? You mean, when he sings “I likka boom boom down?” Oh, wait. I was wrong. My bad. Context is everything. That should help. Let’s take a stab at figuring this out. It seems like our friend Snow was blamed for something, specifically stabbing someone down the street. I now regret using the phrase “let’s take a stab.” Anyway, I still don’t know what he means by “I lick he bum bum down,” but upon further investigation (not cited for legal reasons of course) it means he’s gonna kick your ass (i.e. give your bum some licks). Alright, seems like a roundabout way to get there, but moving on. They blew down your door, Snow? I would have expected more from Canadian cops based solely on Kids in the Hall skits. And they crawled through the window? What the heck, was the SWAT team present, too? What did you do, Snow? I’m thinking you might have done more than just “stab someone down the lane.” You, Snow, have some explaining to do. And please, if it could be even slightly coherent, that would be great. Beef with the cops, huh? Seems like it’s not just an American problem. Although, it seems like Snow’s beef is that they won’t let him call his lady friend, the one “me callin’ a the one Tammy.” To be fair, that’s not much of a legitimate beef, at least not how I’ve been taught about what is and isn’t a beef (again, not citing sources for legal reasons.) To me, not being able to call “the one Tammy” seems more like a gripe than anything. Phone calls and alleged beefs aside, if you think Snow is going to flip, you done lost your damn mind, friend. Snow isn’t going to cooperate. Especially not with the cops! Please! Snow isn’t going to elaborate anymore, either, though, especially when it comes to his time behind bars so you’ll have to sit with the unknown when it comes to the full and unvarnished story of “Informer.” The rest of the song is a word cloud collage of musings about his girl, stories about his upbringing, and one or two other examples of police up in dude’s business. Really, you just have to sit back and say to yourself, “I lick he bum bum down.” It truly was the “C’est La Vie” of 1992. What Happened To Snow? Snow continued to record and release music over the course of the next decade with his last album, Two Hands Clapping, coming out in 2002. Probably not surprisingly, none of the albums or the songs on them failed to reach the levels of success “Informer” did. They did not “lick he bum bum down” on the charts if you will. So our boy Snow retreated to a life of solitude, eventually connecting with proper legal representation that helped him cash in on the long trail of “Informer,” allowing Snow to make a living on the song’s royalties. “All I can say is that I’m blessed,” Snow said in 2019. “You mean do I have another job? No way. I don’t want nothing, a plane or a boat. Music is all I know.” In 2019, “Informer” had something of a resurgence, thanks to the song’s inclusion in Daddy Yankee’s “Con Calma,” a song that was something of a Spanish remake of Snow’s bread and butter. The song became Snow’s first tune to crack the Billboard 100 since, well, you know, the original “Informer.” It also took home awards, winning Top Latin Song of the Year at the 2020 Billboard Music Awards and collecting six awards at Latin Billboard Music Awards later that year. In 2019, Snow was asked if he had any plans to capitalize on the success of “Con Calma” and the renewed interest in “Informer.” “Capitalize?” he said as if the word is foreign to him. “That doesn’t mean much to me. I’m in and out of music. I only do it when I feel like it. It blows up or [it doesn’t]. I don’t care.” And for the most part, Snow has been largely out of music, leaving us to bask in the glory of “Informer” every winter, when a big old snowstorm rolls around and it behooves us to not drag ourselves down with talk of snow the weather, but instead, Snow the Canadian rap/reggae star. So at least there’s that. With that being said though, have you bought batteries yet? You probably should. Booze too. You don’t want boredom to “lick he bum bum down.” Ryan O'Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. In short order, Ryan loves the Boston Red Sox, New England Patriots, the Black Keys, the Roots, his family, The Wire & the writing of Dave Eggers although his last couple books have been “meh” at best. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. To read more from Ryan, visit GiddyUpAmerica.com Portions of this piece originally appeared in UPROXX.

2021 was the year TV reminded us that yes, there’s a lot of it. 2020 was understandably quieter on the small screen front because of the pandemic-induced shutdowns but once the creative types figured out how to work under strict and constantly changing COVID guidelines, it seems like the flood gates opened and it was all systems go. Yet even with things getting somewhat back to normal, you could still feel the presence of COVID even if it wasn’t as direct as actors wearing masks on screen. HBO’s The White Lotus seemed to have been created during a conversation about how a show could be made safely and even Succession had moments where you could feel the guidelines in the room as characters were more spread out than usual. But whatever! Thanks to these guidelines and people taking the necessary precautions, we got some great TV this year. Some favorites came back and we got a slate of killer rookie performances. HBO continues to find success in a post-Game of Thrones world, Netflix is throwing so much shit at the wall that something is bound to stick (hint: it’s probably a true-crime series) and late-night shows continued to have their comedic finger trained perfectly on the pulse of our ongoing dumpster fire of a political system. This list is not a list of best shows or best performances. It’s simply a list of the best things I saw on television in this wild year, 2021. In the spirit of keeping things manageable, some cuts had to be made, leaving Woodstock 99: Peace, Love, and Rage, Lupin, and Stand-Up Canoeing At The Summer Olympics on the outside looking in. The “Beard After Hours” Episode The wife and I weren’t watching the second season of Ted Lasso at the same pace almost everyone else was, so as a result, I knew the Beard-centric episode was coming. Not being surprised by it most likely made it easier to enjoy. My wife was surprised and understandably took some time coming around to it. But once she did, it was all thumbs up in the O’Connell household. Coach Beard had been there since the very beginning but yet we knew very little about him. For a while, that was fine. He seemed perfectly suited to be the silent partner in crime for Ted but by halfway through the second season, I personally wanted to know more about him, which oddly enough, was something I don’t think I totally realized until “Beard After Hours” was almost over. Now there’s so much more behind his silence, affirmations, and having Ted’s back that you could see why they did it. Please Don’t Destroy Bringing Their Videos To SNL I’m not on TikTok and God willing, I shall never be on TikTok. Social media platforms are like making friends in college. At some point, you have enough and don’t need anymore. However, I do appreciate catching a nice chuckle from a TikTok video that makes its way over to Twitter, something that seemed to happen fairly regularly over the course of the past year or so. One group that started showing up a lot was Please Don’t Destroy, three dudes who seemed to be making videos from their apartments. The videos were short and to the point, each one usually featuring an escalation of sorts and anchored by the three’s dynamic and report with each other. They had a style reminiscent of The Office, with the quick cuts and glances at the camera. I became a fan and then to my surprise, they showed up on this season of Saturday Night Live, where they had been hired as writers and occasional performers. On nearly every episode so far this season, there has been a Please Don’t Destroy video with the guys poking fun at all the different kinds of seltzers, dealing with Rami Malek’s antics, or trying to hang with Pete Davidson and Taylor Swift. Stanley Tucci: Searching For Italy Did I know Stanley Tucci was from Italy? No, but in my defense, I had literally never once thought about it. But he is and my dude loves Italy and what I learned this spring was that I subsequently loved that Tucci loved Italy. On his CNN show, Tucci traveled the country, highlighting the food, culture, and history of the various regions. After each episode, I really wanted Italian food and couldn’t stop saying “si, si, si” whenever my wife asked me something. It was fantastic. The ‘Prank Show’ Sketch On ‘I Think You Should Leave’ I got hip to the Tim Robinson Netflix series mainly through the memes it produced and how there seemed to be one for damn near every situation imaginable. Eventually, I started poking around the corners of YouTube, watching sketches here and there. They certainly weren’t for everyone but they were for me as I love myself some slow-moving, awkward humor. One of the highlights of the show’s second season was ‘Prank Show,’ where Robinson plays the star of a hidden camera show who plans to don a costume and cause a ruckus in a mall. It goes terribly, it’s hilarious and yes, it produced several memes and .gifs that were endlessly applicable. The Kendall/Tom Diner Scene It was amazing at the time and now that the season is over, eerily prescient. Jordan Klepper At The Insurrection I don’t know how Jordan Klepper does what he does but man am I glad that he does uh, what he does. He has become the master of diving headfirst into MAGA country and showcasing the endless absurdity, stupidity, chaos, and unsettling danger of the Trump movement. I think the people trust him because he does look relatively harmless but the bulk of people he interviews are too dumb or too far up their own ass or down a conspiracy-fueled rabbit hole to realize that he’s making fun of them. It’s not all their fault, though. He’s so quick that they could be forgiven for missing a thing or two. But as a viewer, we’re the lucky ones and he should be held up and acknowledged for essentially providing a useful public service. He puts faces and voices to things that people on the Left or in the middle only hear about on social media or read about in the news. The Opening Credits Of ‘the White Lotus’ The best show of 2021 also had the best opening of the year. A heck of a twofer although not all that surprising because HBO always seems to have the best opening credit sequences. Shannon Flynn on ‘Murder Among the Mormons’ Murder Among the Mormons was one of roughly 7,879 true-crime docuseries Netflix released in 2021 and probably one of the better ones. The series told the story of a series of bombings that went off in Salt Lake City in the mid-1980s and how they involved the Mormon church, the world of valuable, historic documents, the forgery of said documents, and the troubled man at the center of it all, Mark Hoffmann. But one of the stars of the series was an associate of Hoffman’s, Shannon Flynn. If you’re doing a documentary that involves both the Mormon church and documentary collecting, you might be hard-pressed to find a talking head that you can feature that is super captivating but Flynn was just that. A suspect of the bombings himself, Sydney was able to help tell a compelling story and make it even more of one. Larry David & the Klansman Hey, it’s just life on the ranch. Drunk Zabel On ‘Mare Of Easttown’ There is a long and storied tradition on both the small and big screen of actors doing an absolutely terrible job at playing drunk. It rarely works. It’s usually unbelievable and forced and outside of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia and Parks and Recreation, two shows that routinely featured top-notch drunken performances, it’s an ill-advised move. Yet one of the best moments in Mare of Easttown, which was a serious contender for the best show of the year, was the arrival of drunk Zabel. Played by Evan Peters, Colin Zabel was set up to be the doting sidekick of Kate Winslet’s Mare and that was it. But in one scene, where he was shit-faced following a high school reunion, he became so much more than that and the show was better for it because now he was a fully developed character full of sadness, tragedy, regret, and more. Also, it was hilarious and more importantly, believable. Seth & the Sea Captain on ‘Late Night With Seth Meyers’ As a result of COVID, late-night hosts were forced to do their shows from home, and for the most part, it was fine. Each host, whether it was Stephen Colbert, Jimmy Fallon, or in this case, Seth Meyers, made it work in their own unique way. Meyers actually flourished in the change of scenery and at times, seemed more comfortable in his attic than in the studio. This summer, he and his family went off to spend some time at his wife’s parent’s place, forcing Meyers to put together a new studio and ditch bits he had been doing at home that involved everyone from Ethan Hawke and wasps. In their place was an old painting of a sea captain and the rest was history. Ryan O'Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. In short order, Ryan loves the Boston Red Sox, New England Patriots, the Black Keys, the Roots, his family, The Wire & the writing of Dave Eggers although his last couple books have been “meh” at best. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. To read more from Ryan, visit GiddyUpAmerica.com

Ah yes, 2021: a year that began with an attack on the capital and just kept getting weirder from there. The pandemic sadly never left but at least Adele came back. Adele not being able to stop the pandemic might literally be the only thing she can’t do and if she could work on that, it’d be great. In addition to Adele returning, Taylor Swift set out to rerecord her old songs, Bruno Mars and Anderson .Paak teamed up, the Foo Fighters continued to be as reliable as duct tape and St. Vincent once again reinvented herself. Oh and Weezer released two albums that were completely different and ultimately not that bad, Freddie Gibbs continued to convince everyone he might be the greatest rapper out there today and Kanye West released a new album that I still haven’t listened to and probably never will. AND THAT’S OKAY. To quote the man himself, “I like the old Kanye.” After COVID shut the world down in March of 2020, one of the questions I had was how it would impact music. How would musicians respond and spend their newly acquired free time with tours and shows being canceled? My hope was that they would all spend that time writing new music and as soon as they were able to, get it on wax and out to the people. And it seems like for the most part, that is what happened as this year featured the release of so many records that were written and recorded during the shutdown. So I guess what I’m saying here was that maybe us slamming the pause button on life maybe wasn’t the absolute worst thing in the world. Editor’s Note: It was still not great. Now it’s that special time of year where the reflection begins and we start to take stock and assess the year that was. I thought we did this in December but in recent years I’ve noticed that by mid to late November, the lists start making the rounds. Sucks to drop your record in December, kid. Get with the program. Since 2013, I have assembled my year-end list based on the idea that some songs are Hey-Oh! songs and while my lists are generally comprised of songs I liked the most/thought were the best, the criteria were slightly different. What exactly is a Hey-Oh! song? I’m so happy you asked. There you go. The 2020 list included songs from Run the Jewels, Royal Blood, Gorillaz, The Strokes, Tame Impala, Fiona Apple, Foo Fighters, and more. This year’s full list can be found here in easily digestible playlist form. Here are the best of the best. “Survivor” Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats were one of a handful of acts that emerged around 2015 that had drenched themselves in an old school soul vibe with a couple of those other acts being a band like St. Paul and the Broken Bones and singer Leon Bridges. They all played a kind of southern soul music that called to mind the best that a place like Muscle Shoals had to offer. It was fun. However, was it meant to last? It’s hard to kick it old school and it not be considered something of a novelty and in turn, be something that doesn’t necessarily have much in terms of staying power. Fast forward six years and St. Paul and the Broken Bones have drifted towards a more spacey R&B sound and Bridges has also started to experiment with less soul and more R&B. The results in both cases are fine but you could be forgiven for missing the sound they had when they first entered our lives as it was so pure and genuine. Thankfully Rateliff and company have stayed the course and the result is another great album, The Future. The band stays in the lane they’ve traveled since 2015 yet still makes their music sound fresh with little tweaks here and there. The result is an incredibly enjoyable album anchored by the lead single “Survivor,” which drives in a way other songs of theirs haven’t. “Skate,” “Fly As Me” Silk Sonic One of the more enjoyable storylines of 2021 was tracking Silk Sonic updates as the duo of Bruno Mars and Anderson .Paak continued to pop up starting in early March with music from their new project, an ode to 1970s R&B. The first track they released, “Leave the Door Open” was cool but the second track, “Skate,” which came out at the end of July had some more life to it and at least for me, grabbed my attention way more than that first track did. Then the album came out (finally) and I heard track three, “Fly As Me.” I wish the whole album sounded more like that track and less like the slower ones. There’s a good chance that in about two months I will have forgotten about An Evening With Silk Sonic but will still be bumping “Fly As Me” on a regular basis. “The Hardest Cut” Spoon 2017 was a long time ago. It feels like it was even longer ago than it was is but that’s because the way time passes these days is a junk show. But either way, the last Spoon album, Hot Thoughtswas released that year and four years is too long to go without a new Spoon album. That’s just science, kids. Thankfully, Spoon announced the release of their 10th album at the end of October, punctuated by the haunting stomp of “The Hardest Cut.” The majority of Spoon songs have always had a distinct bounce and rhythm to them and “The Hardest Cut” is no exception. It feels slightly more menacing though, has an edge to it that other songs of theirs don’t have and that’s cool. The band’s frontman Britt Daniel describes the sound of the new album, Lucifer on the Sofa, as “the sound of classic rock as written by a guy who never did get Eric Clapton.” Interesting. So if you never “got” Clapton, that means you’ve been able to sit out his ridiculous anti-vax stance as well as his long history of incendiary remarks, huh? Must be nice. “Weights” Bartees Strange Strange popped up on my radar at some point in 2020 when he appeared on Late Night with Seth Meyers and keeping tabs on him since then has been incredibly rewarding and enjoyable. His music has a spirit and energy to it that feels to have been transplanted from the earlier part of this century. He doesn’t just mess around with garage rock though as a deep diver into his catalog reveals him dabbling in hip hop and R&B. But it’s rock songs that keep me coming back for more. “Weights,” which was released as part of a deluxe version of his 2020 debut album Live Forever came out this fall. Strange also released a faithful cover of the Richard Swift song “Lady Luck” this year that is worth checking out. “No Son of Mine” Foo Fighters Foo Fighters’ first 2021 album, Medicine At Midnight was fine but mostly has its moments, one of them being the vintage Foo rocker “No Son Of Mine.” The album was sold as the product of the band experimenting with new sounds and styles but it’s no wonder that the strongest track off the album is them doing what they do best. According to an interview Grohl gave back in January, the song originally had “this country swing to it” before the band elected to take it in more of a harder, aggressive direction. Thank you for that, Foo Fighters. Grohl also said the song was a tribute to Lemmy, the late frontman of Motörhead, saying “I wish Lemmy were alive to hear it because he would see how much an influence he’s been to me.” It should be noted that Medicine At Midnight was in the fact the first of two albums Foo Fighters released in 2021 but I just don’t really want to talk about the other one. “Pay Your Way In Pain” St. Vincent St. Vincent (aka. Annie Clark) loves herself a good reinvention. For her last album, 2017’s Masseducation, she went dark and sinister, adopting the vibe of a late-night, industrialized dominatrix. Cut to four years later and she’s going back to the 1970s. On Daddy’s Home, Clark is channeling the after-hours glitz and shine of pre-disco New York City. The album’s first single, “Pay Your Way In Pain” is equal parts Prince, David Bowie, and a dirty mirror covered in coke residue on the floor of the dingiest green room imaginable. It’s fantastic. “Big Boss Rabbit” Freddie Gibbs What do you do when you lose a Grammy that damn near everyone was convinced you win? Well, if you’re Freddie Gibbs you don’t sulk. You don’t wallow or complain. Nah, you get back into the lab and continue to prove why you were robbed and why you were wronged. Alfredo, Gibbs’s excellent collaboration with The Alchemist was a favorite at the 2021 Grammys to win Best Rap Album but he ended up losing to Nas’ King Disease. No worries though. Gibbs is all about moving forward. “Grammy after party but we rock it like we won the b*tch” he raps on “Big Boss Rabbit,” which was released as a standalone single in the spring. Gibbs’ flow is unrelenting on the track and he raps something like 4,567 words in three minutes as if he is both on a mission and too busy to really give a shit. And he may actually be too busy. My dude released something like four or five more songs after “Big Boss Rabbit” and is probably primed to release a few more as I write this. “3 AM” HAIM ft. Thundercat Women In Music Pt. III was already a great album by Haim but then they just added to their war chest with the extended edition which features remixes of songs that include up and coming singer/songwriter Taylor Swift and bass wizard Thundercat. Thundercat appears on the reworked version of “3AM,” giving the song an extra layer of sultry, smooth goodness. Thundercat’s voice, an unmistakably floating falsetto meshes perfectly with the sisters’ vocals, helping create a song with a vibe as equally sexually-charged as the song’s subject matter. “I Don’t Live Here Anymore” The War On Drugs ft. Lucious I am continually amazed by War on Drugs as all of their songs somehow all sound the same but also sound different. I think it’s the overall vibe of the band’s music, how their songs all sound like good driving songs but perhaps good driving songs that each fit different types of roads and terrain, thus changing speeds and how you approach them. This idea of traveling is especially present in the title track from the band’s excellent 2021 album I Don’t Live Here Anymore, a song full of reminiscing and remembering. Adam Granduciel, the driving force behind the band, said the album’s overall theme is one of change, saying it’s about “growing up, getting older, but also growing out of yourself and into something new.” On “I Don’t Live Here Anymore,” Granduciel is making sense of both his past and his present, trying to understand how he got from one to the other. “When I think about the old days, babe/You’re always on my mind/I know it ain’t like I remember/I guess my memories run wild” he sings. Preach, brother. We’ve all been there, sometimes several times a day. “Sad But True” Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit As the summer of 2021 neared the halfway point, word started to get out that to celebrate the 30th anniversary of their legendary self-titled album, Metallica would be releasing The Metallica Blacklist, a collection of versions of songs from The Black Album recorded by a murderers row of artists. Weezer, Royal Blood, St. Vincent, The Neptunes, Portugal. The Man, Cage the Elephant, Phoebe Bridgers, and Miley Cyrus would all be contributing tracks. Super cool. Maybe. Two covers stood out to me. First was Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit’s raucous version of “Sad But True.” Isbell takes the tune and runs with it, soaking it up in some good old, shit-kicking southern sunshine. The other track was Chris Stapleton’s eight-minute version of “Nothing Else Matters,” a song that becomes a different kind of dark and more meditative under Stapleton’s watch. Beyond that, there are some good songs but don’t tell Lars I said this, in the end, the collection never really lived up to the hype and pre-release billing. “Broken Horses” Brandi Carlile You know how there are artists out there that you’re aware of but haven’t ever really listened to them yourself, but even still, you know enough about them to appreciate what they’re doing? That was Brandi Carlile for me. I’m hip enough to the happenings of the Alt-country extended universe to know she’s a force but I’m ashamed to admit that I had never really sat down to listen to her. In my defense, Phish went back on tour this summer and it really threw my daily listening habits for a loop. Anyway, this all changed when I watched Saturday Night Live recently and Carlile was the musical guest. Carlile’s first song was “Broken Horses” off of her 2021 album In These Silent Days. I was hooked right away. The song soars and thunders, hammers and speeds its way across the desolate plains of days gone by. Is it shit-kicking rock, a personal favorite sub-genre of mine? Yeah, I think it is. So I’m sorry Brandi Carlile. I biffed it and should have listened to you earlier. “Sorry I Am” Del Water Gap I’m of the opinion that Twitter is about 65% positive, 30% negative, and 5% hard to say when it comes to experiences. Part of what sways it in positive’s favor is that you can meet some pretty cool people there. One of those people is this dude Adam Offitzer, a senior writer for Spotify who also has a weekly substack devoted to new music releases and music news. As with anyone in his position, there are stylistic trends to his recommendations and for the most part, I’m up and down with them. But I appreciate the effort nonetheless. One day I was perusing one of Offitzer’s playlists and came across this group Del Water Gap. As someone who lives somewhat close to the actual Delaware Water Gap, I was intrigued by the name and checked it out. What I found was some easy listening, wistful, earnest folk-rock that kind of reminds me of Rogue Wave and I love Rogue Wave more than I like geographically relevant band names but either way, it was a win/win situation. “Jazz on the Autobahn” The Felice Brothers “Jazz on the Autobahn,” the second single from The Felice Brothers’ From Dreams to Dust has a Hold Steady vibe to it, especially with the vocals and how they sound like a combination of beat poetry and barroom story-telling. Musically, the tune is more melodic and softer in spirit than anything from The Hold Steady and comparisons aside, there is an easy nature to this song that makes it a tune you could listen to for an hour straight and not really get sick of it. “McKenzie” Houndmouth Houndmouth and I had a nice little going for a while there and this was before Little Neon Limelightcame out in 2015, although admittedly not too before then. I’m not trying to be that guy, the one who knew something was cool before everyone else did. Well, maybe I’m trying a little to be that guy. Whatever, I really liked Houndmouth. But then I kind of didn’t. The music they’ve released after Little Neon Limelight doesn’t have the same feel and it seemed like the band, following the departure of vocalist and keyboardist Kate Tourpin was moving away from their distinctive pop version of alt-country to more of a general indie-rock type thing. I’m not opposed to indie-rock but you know, it felt like things had changed and while I would always love the older Houndmouth tunes, the new ones were a different story. Yet “McKenzie” might very well have changed things when it comes to my relationship with Houndmouth because “McKenzie” is a delightful tune. Just delightful. “justified” Kacey Musgraves Before I went about getting a prescription for medical marijuana, few things in life relaxed me more than the sound of Kacey Musgraves’ voice. Her voice is like drinking tea when you’re not sick. It just puts you at ease. And I say that as someone who 100% agrees with Ted Lasso when it comes to opinions on tea. “Heavy D” Atmosphere ft. Collie Buddz, Felt, Murs Atmosphere and Murs teamed on “Heavy D” this year, a bouncing reggae-powered track produced by Collie Buddz. The track was featured on Collie Buddz 2021 album Cali Roots Riddim 2021 and you know, I’m sorry. I thought Collie Buddz was one of those bands who tour with either 311 or Slightly Stupid every summer but I was wrong. It happens at least four times a week for what it’s worth. “I Need Some of That”/”Grapes of Wrath” Weezer You can say whatever you want about Rivers Cuomo and Weezer but you can’t say that they rest on their laurels. My dudes have been around for damn near three decades now and they’re still releasing albums at a hell of a clip. Now, are some of those albums instantly forgettable and borderline rubbish? Yes. Yes, they are. But you throw enough shit against the wall and you’re bound to get a waffle every once in a while and no, I know that’s not how waffles are made. I’m not a moron. Although I am someone who once poured gravy into a waffle maker while staying at a hotel in Nashville because I had no idea gravy was a part of a breakfast but I’m not here to talk about the past. In 2021, Weezer released two albums and they couldn’t have sounded more different. The first release, Ok Human, was orchestral and the “more serious” of the two. The second record was the band’s loving ode to 1980s hair metal, Van Weezer, an album that I feel like they had been flirting with making for at least a decade. As with most of the albums Weezer has released in the last ten years, each one has a few keepers that make their way onto a Best of Weezer playlist and a few tracks you never want to hear again. Like, ever again. “good 4 u” Olivia Rodrigo This year, our oldest daughter really started having opinions on music that went beyond wanting to listen to songs from Disney movies or Sing 500 times in a row. She became a staunch advocate for the top 40 radio station in our area and when driving her around, she was adamant that we listen to it, no matter how many times I tried to sneak in something from classic rock or God forbid, Phish. It was actually kind of adorable. Through this, I started listening to Olivia Rodrigo and I have to admit that I love “good 4 u.” I don’t love it as much as I used to, mainly because the aforementioned top 40 station plays it a lot but I still really like it. It’s a great little pop/punk song and who doesn’t love a good pop/punk song, am I right? “What It Feels Like” Nipsey Hustle, Jaz-Z Judas and the Black Messiah was a powerful film backed by a powerful soundtrack and the highlight of that soundtrack was the collaboration between Jay-Z and the late Nipsey Hussle. The origin of the track actually goes back a bit, back to 2013, which is when Nipsey first recorded his verses on the track, hence Nipsey talking about Crenshaw in the future tense even though the mixtape dropped in 2013. Hov jumped on the track partially to support the film’s director, Ryan Coogler. You can read more about how the track came together in a GQ interview featuring producers Larrance Dopson, Nipsey collaborators Mike & Keys, and Jay-Z. See you next year. Ryan O'Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. In short order, Ryan loves the Boston Red Sox, New England Patriots, the Black Keys, the Roots, his family, The Wire & the writing of Dave Eggers although his last couple books have been “meh” at best. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. To read more from Ryan, visit GiddyUpAmerica.com

Christmas memories are like episodes of Madmen– face it, they’re all awesome, just in their own unique ways. There was one lovely Christmas in Maine when I was working at Bay Lines and pulled the Downbay PM shift, which in the days leading up to Christmas looked like one of the more desire able shifts, given its 13:45 report time. It left you plenty of time to do presents and then lunch before throwing on the steel toes and heading out. Working on Christmas sucks, no matter how you slice it- but like with most things in life that are a bummer, try your best to make it suck the least and you should be okay. As I drove into work, the snow started. Commercial Street, which would have been quiet that day anyway and for the most part is from October until May, had reached a Ghost Town level of quiet. There was no one out and we were able to walk in the middle of the street with drifts and snow forming around us as we trudged to Maggie’s for a cup of coffee. The snow wasn’t letting up and it likely wouldn’t until the night was over. It was going to get worse before it was going to get better and around 14:15 we shoved off into sideways snow and a frost tipped wind ripping across the bow. The windows of the pilothouse danced between fogging up and icing over. We couldn’t see shit. On the way home, I saw a car in the middle of a snow bank in between the two sides of Franklin Street. It was a minivan- white with wood paneling. I would have stopped but if I had the Super Trooper would likely have ended up right next to it. When we were younger, Erin would have me do reconnaissance work starting around 5am Christmas morning. It was a tricky mission. If you looked down the stairs you could usually tell if the stockings were full and if the stockings were full, it only meant one thing…we’re good to go. Unfortunately every time I tried to do this I was interrupted by Dad. “Go back to bed, Ryan.” I’d go back to bed and pick up the phone. Erin was on the other line and I’d quickly tell about the stockings before the beeping started and the operator came on, telling us to please try our call again. Gram was funny at Christmas because she was never shy about saying what she felt and as a result, had funny reactions when opening presents. She would usually forget who the present was from while opening it and would have to ask after it was opened. We’d tell her not once, not twice, but usually three times on account of her poor hearing. It would get to a point where no one else in the family could open presents while she was because she would get distracted and if that happened, we’d all be done and there’d be nothing under the tree but seven presents for Gram and three for Mom, who spent the majority of the morning tending after Gram. I remember going to the Village after church on Christmas Eve. The Village was a large Italian restaurant that used to be in Portland. It had a distinct smell to it- not a bad smell or a good smell. It just had a definitive aroma. Christmas taught me how to rock the shit out of gift certificates. That might have ended up being good real world training. Getting blocks of blank cassette tapes was always a fan favorite. It was the gift that kept on giving and I’m not going to brag, but I certainly knew my way around a good mix tape. The funny thing about Christmas now is that I totally want the kind of gifts that are frequently used as jokes pertaining towards typical dude presents. Come Christmas morning, if I have a couple new white t-shirts, some new socks and a new collared shirt or two- I’m stoked. I can’t really think of anything else I want besides maybe AES to wipe out my student loans or to get the Super Trooper back. I’m really just looking forward to the downtime that comes with Christmas. Sleeping in is a present I’m looking forward to this year. This article originally appeared in Dec. 2011. Ryan O'Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. In short order, Ryan loves the Boston Red Sox, New England Patriots, the Black Keys, the Roots, his family, The Wire & the writing of Dave Eggers although his last couple books have been “meh” at best. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. To read more from Ryan, visit GiddyUpAmerica.com

My relationship with Christmas music is up and down at best. I can willfully admit that I straight up like some songs, can tolerate others and can sure why not a few more. There are also a handful of Christmas tunes I can’t hear without having flashbacks of being in the chorus in fifth grade and serenading the various old people homes and hospitals of the greater Portland area. I’m not sure if these are good memories, bad memories or just memories. Regardless, Christmas music- I am generally cool with it. Of course there are a lot of Christmas songs I can’t stand. But going with the Christmas spirit, I’m not going to get into those. Well, except for two. Because really, “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer?” That song is about straight up bullying. People were complete dicks to poor Rudolph, Santa included. Shit-talk, exclusion, mockery- Rudolph dealt with all of it. Why? Because of a bright, shiny nose? That seems like a ridiculous reason to torment someone. Bad breath? A disturbingly loud and obtrusive voice? Unnecessary hugging? Yeah, those seem like perfectly fine reasons to rib someone. But something like a “bright and shiny nose?” Come on. And then, the coconuts of Santa and his crew to turn to Rudolph when they needed him and act like, oh dude, it’s cool, yeah we eff’d with you like your whole life, but hey, we’re sorry and yeah, we’re cool now, right? If I were Rudolph I would have unloaded years and years of pent up anger on them. No, no we’re not cool now! We are actually very uncool. These assholes, only when stuck with their thumbs up their ass in the middle of a snow storm finally saw the benefits of a reindeer with a built-in headlamp? I would have thought something like that would have been pointed out as super useful right from the jump. But that’s just me. I have a penchant for tipping my hat to things that are useful. And then there’s “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” a song that has become more commonly referred to in recent years as "Oh yeah, that date rape song." Why? Because yeah, it’s kind of, sort of a song about the moments before something shady happens. I don’t care if it can be song in a wonderfully adorable tone. All that’s missing is the sound of seventeen door locks being locked. But let’s move on to better songs, better Christmas music, specifically my top ten Christmas songs. And we start with number one… “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town” Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band It’s fun, it’s fresh, it’s a delightful take on an old favorite, which is how covers of classic Christmas songs should be (with one exception that will come up later.) This song radiates and pulsates fun. You hear it, you start dancing. If you don’t, then God help you what the hell is wrong with you! No really, what’s wrong with you? “All I Want for Christmas is You” Mariah Carey, Jimmy Fallon & the Roots A recent performance not withstanding, this song is what Christmas music should be. It makes you sway, it makes you sing a long, it makes you do that adorable little glance over to your partner and say with your eyes- yeah the message of this song, it applies to you smoochy. This version with Jimmy Fallon and the Roots is my favorite. “Little Saint Nick” The Beach Boys Growing up, my parents had a very random record collection. Part of the collection was four or five Christmas albums. They loved them some Brenda Lee, I always loved the Beach Boys’ Christmas album, especially “Little Saint Nick.” There should be a component of nostalgia with Christmas music, it should bring you back. That’s what this song does. Brings me all the way back to Regan Lane, G.I. Joe’s and the sound of Gram asking- now what do you have there? “Christmas in Hollis” RUN DMC Why is this on the list? Because it’s cool. And Christmas is cool. And Run DMC cool. However, the elf in that video? Kind of creepy. “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” U2/Darlene Love Two great versions of the same song and I can’t decide which one I like better. Let’s say I could sing and let’s say I was in a band where I was the lead singer. And let’s say this band was playing a show around Christmas. Then we’d say I would most definitely want to play this song because it seems like such a fun song to sing. “Silver Bells” Dean Martin Whereas the other songs hit that merry vibe in a dance around, hug a loved one sense, this song really nails the merry vibe of the clink, clink of a few ice cubes in a glass and that mellow boozy swagger of Christmas eve. “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” Frank Sinatra This should be on everyone’s list. “Happy XMas (War is Over)” John Lennon This is a haunting song in the way that it’s spirit sticks with you, you can’t let it go. Which is probably or at least partially the point. I once saw a Portland band, Dominic and the Lucid cover it and when I hear it, I think of them playing it. They killed it. “Wonderful Christmas Time” Paul McCartney Is this song cheesy? Yup. Is Christmas also kind of cheesy? Yeah, kind of. So win, win. “Little Drummer Boy” Sidecar Radio The exception to my Stay True to the Original When it Comes to Covering a Christmas Classic rule because Sidecar Radio make this song theirs, while also tipping their hat to the original. Ryan O'Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. In short order, Ryan loves the Boston Red Sox, New England Patriots, the Black Keys, the Roots, his family, The Wire & the writing of Dave Eggers although his last couple books have been “meh” at best. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. To read more from Ryan, visit GiddyUpAmerica.com

It’s the Christmas season. I know this because of the amount of emails I’ve received in the past few days from stores and businesses I shopped at once four years ago. And I know this because we have lights up outside of our house (first house on the street you lazy chumps!) I know Christmas is coming in hot because Thanksgiving is behind us, the looming threat of endless Christmas movies has emerged on radar screens and nearly every weekend in December is already full of some sort of Christmas activity, the majority of which involve either a tree lighting, a Santa sighting or some combination of the two. Although our Christmas activities aren’t nearly as frequent this year due to COVID but rest assure, we will still be busy and really, you just have to hope drinks will be served. Yet I really know that the Christmas season is upon us because I saw that Corona commercial. You know the one. The one with the idyllic setting and the palm trees and the lights. It’s a sneaky little son of a gun, especially as far as commercials go. You don’t realize you’re watching it until about ten seconds in and then twenty seconds later, it’s over. Seeing as how the majority of commercials these days are all but screaming for your attention, the overall stillness and muted nature of the Corona “O’Tannenpalm” spot makes it stick out even more. I’m not saying the spot makes me want to drink a Corona, but nothing is perfect. The commercial is memorable and that seems like half the battle in the old commercial game. Fun fact about the commercial is that this year it’s celebrating it’s 31st year running, having premiered in 1990. This is one of those facts that you are simultaneously amazed by and not amazed by, as you can’t believe it’s been running that long, but also realize you really can’t remember life without it. However, the only problem with something running as long as the spot has and having seen it as many times I have is that at least for me, I start to have questions. Don’t be alarmed. I tend to do this more than I should. I’m not all that great at accepting things as they are. My questions as they pertain to the “O’Tannenpalm” spot are pretty straight forward. Not much here in terms of deep-diving. For starters, I don’t see any power lines. Do you see any power lines? How are the lights powered? How does the house have electricity? If they’re running power for the house off of a generator, doesn’t it seem super wasteful to also run Christmas lights off of said generator, especially if you’re leaving the lights on all night, which certainly seems the case as the lights are turned on and then the house lights go off? Maybe that’s the trade-off? Dad, we really want Christmas lights this year. Okay, but if we do that, then we won’t be able to lights inside the house. Unless of course, the occupants of the house turn the Christmas lights on, then elect to sit out on the front porch, presumably drinking a Corona, as they admire their beautiful lights. In that case, it would then make sense that they turned the lights off inside the house. Whoever lives in that little house definitely has a pretty wonderful view, so I’m sure they’re accustomed to spending evenings sitting outside and taking in that view. Again, maybe while drinking Coronas. I also don’t see any kind of extension cord running down the tree, but I’m willing to give them a pass on that one and assume that they have the cord running down the trunk of the tree, possibly zip tied down at various intervals. I mean, that’s what I would do. Can’t let those wires show, kid. #eventlife. And as far as the lights on the tree go, come on- how are they pulling that off without at least having access to a scissor lift? Do they have a scissor lift? Do they have a friend that has a scissor lift? Is there a United Rentals in the vicinity that rents scissor lifts? Those lights aren’t happening without one, that’s for damn sure. You can tell me that they just climbed up the tree and you know, made it happen without the assistance of a scissor lift, but I don’t buy it. Even using a tall ladder is only going to get you so high. Same with a really long pole. But please, how are you navigating a pole that would be as long as a pole would need to be in this situation to pull this off? I know that’s what she said, but come on, this is just simple logistics. Maybe I’m just jealous and that’s where these questions come from – jealous of whoever is living in that choice residence and jealous of their skill at hanging lights. This could be the case. Or maybe I’ve just seen this commercial so many times and a handful of those times, it caught me at moments when I was in that sweet spot of being tired and maybe a little bored and hence, completely open to deconstructing a thirty-second commercial that is admittedly a complete fantasy. Either way, the one thing I know for sure is that I’ve seen the commercial a couple times now and that means one thing and one thing only. It means it’s the Christmas season. It also means they definitely used a scissor lift. Ryan O'Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. In short order, Ryan loves the Boston Red Sox, New England Patriots, the Black Keys, the Roots, his family, The Wire & the writing of Dave Eggers although his last couple books have been “meh” at best. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. To read more from Ryan, visit GiddyUpAmerica.com

I’m jealous of people out there who have yet to experience the Beastie Boys, to be able to take a fresh-faced dive into their discography and fully appreciate all of its splendor for the first time. Listening to the Beastie Boys for the first time is like thumbing your nose at gravity or any number of other tenants of polite society. It’s an unforgettable experience. For folks of a certain age (i.e. those getting a little long in the tooth,) we were blessed to be in the catbird seat as the group grew, matured, and expanded their sound over the course of their two decade-plus career. But man, to be in a position to hear an album like Ill Communication for the first time would be amazing. From the release of Licensed To Ill in 1986 to their final album, Hot Sauce Committee Part Two in 2011, The Beastie Boys underwent a total transformation. They evolved from brash party boys to erudite hip hop masters with sounds and attitudes that were far more inclusive. Yet their edge never dulled and remained sharp until their final days. The world around them changed and with it, so did their influences, opinions, beliefs, and general perspective on life but in the end, they were still three dudes with attitude and swagger for days, as well as an endless desire to keep themselves entertained by music that was distinctly their own. As time went on, there were those that tried to replicate at least some part of the Beastie Boys’ sound but those attempts never went well. You can’t cop a style that authentic and that unique and at this point, all we can hope is that people have finally gotten wise to that. In honor of the 35th anniversary of the release of Licensed to Ill, here’s a ranking of the group’s eight albums. 8. The Mix-Up (2007) What separates The Mix-Up from the band’s other instrumental release that came before it, The in Sound from Way Out!, is that the first instrumental album was a compilation of previously released jams, tracks that had appeared on previous albums. It wasn’t presented as anything new and it was actually pretty helpful if you liked those tracks and wished you had them all in one place (and were also too lazy to make a mixtape containing them.) In contrast, The Mix-Up was made of all new compositions. There was even a tour where the band focused on instrumentals. It’s not as if the jams are terrible or anything. It’s just that, at times – and I’m saying this with all due respect – it sounds like I’m listening to a college jam ba Speaking as someone who was in a college jam band, that shit should be shared as little as possible. 7. To the 5 Boroughs (2004) With the world and their native New York City still reeling from 9/11, no one can fault the Beasties for releasing a tribute to their beloved New York City. We also can’t hate on them for making an album that was easily their most hip-hop-heavy. To the 5 Boroughs is definitely not a bad album. Let me repeat that: THIS IS NOT A BAD ALBUM. However, it’s also not a great album. It’s a good album; a solid B-, which is nothing to be ashamed of. As we all remember from back in the day, there’s a big difference between getting a B on something and a C, and the minus aside, a B is a B, kid. Now, saying To the 5 Boroughs is “just” a good album is due in large part to the fact that the Beastie Boys were always a good to really good hip-hop group. But what made them stand out was their ability to dip into the wild waters of hardcore and punk and incorporate that into their hip-hop stylings. By leaning almost exclusively into hip-hop. they weren’t operating at full strength. With that being said, “Ch-Check It Out” is an awesome tune. 6. Hello Nasty (1998) Released four years after Ill Communication, Hello Nasty is good fun and a heck of a good time starting from the jump with “Super Disco Breakin’.” It’s a forward-thinking album, chock-full of futuristic sounds and thoughtful experimentation. Unlike Ill Communication, which had the feel of a band concocting mayhem in a garage, Hello Nasty sounds like a team of scientists experimenting in a lab. If we’re being honest though, and I’d like to think we are, I do have one issue with Hello Nasty: the length. It’s a long album. It’s like Drake album long. Studies have routinely shown that nobody has time for an album with 22 tracks. But we’re staying positive here. “Three MCs and One DJ” is the hip-hop side of the Beastie Boys in all its glory. Also, Hello Nasty is a top-notch album title. 5. Licensed to Ill (1986) At first glance, Licensed to Ill, with classics like “Brass Monkey,” “Fight for Your Right” and “No Sleep ‘Til Brooklyn” on it, you could easily say, What the heck, man? How is this album not ranked higher? That’s fair; a solid question. I would say, friend, that the margin between the album that ends up at the top of this list and License to Ill at the five spot is incredibly minimal. So be cool. I’m not firing shots or hating on the group’s legendary debut. With a ranking like this, it’s a game of inches and no one, especially me who loves to champion debut albums, can sleep on the impact of this album. But it’s also their first album and a lot of times it substitutes legitimate quality for youthful exuberance. There’s no Hot Sauce Committee Part Two without License to Ill, but that doesn’t mean License to Ill should be ranked higher. Cool? 4. Hot Sauce Committee Part Two (2011) Speaking of Hot Sauce Committee, let’s tip our caps to the Beastie Boys’ last album. The album was set to be released in 2009 but was delayed when Adam Yauch was diagnosed with cancer. It was eventually released two years later when Yauch was in remission and one year before he’d pass away in 2012. Hot Sauce is a near-perfect marriage of early Beasties energy and the forward-thinking lab work of Hello Nasty. It’s a fun album, especially in contrast with To the 5 Boroughs, which came out seven years earlier. The beats on this album are sick, and it features two of the best guest spots in the Beasties’ discography: Nas on “Too Many Rappers” and Santigold on “Don’t Play No Game That I Can’t Win.” They even pick up their instruments for a trip down hardcore memory lane with “Lee Majors Come Again.” I don’t know if they knew this would be their last album or not when they were writing and recording it, but either way, as far as last albums go, it’s everything a long-time fan could ask for. 3. Check Your Head (1992) Check Your Head is peak Beasties and possibly the album that best demonstrates what the group looked to bring to the table. It’s loose as hell and far from perfect from any kind of technical sense. Additionally, it’s fun, entertaining, inspirational, and most importantly, eternally appealing. Check Your Head is one of those albums that always sounds good, regardless of the situation. Well, not regardless of any situation. Let’s just say its good for a bunch of situations with “bunch” doing a lot of work there because the bunch in question is sizeable. The sounds on Check Your Head are great, especially Mike D’s drums on “Pass the Mic.” The snare hits are freakin’ perfect, man. Perfect. Check Your Head has the best instrumentals, some of the best rhymes, and an iconic album cover. Yauch’s bass line on “Gratitude” is the kind of fuzzy goodness that makes you want to get in a car chase filmed in slow motion (i.e. one of the aforementioned situations that were previously alluded to.) 2. Paul’s Boutique (1989) Released three long and crazy years after License to Ill came out, Paul’s Boutique was a hard left turn for the group following the success they had been gaining with their debut album and their association with Def Jam. The Beasties had split from the label over ongoing financial disputes in 1988 and signed with Capital Record. They then fled west to California to record Paul’s Boutiquewith The Dust Brothers. The album has benefited greatly from the passing of time, as it was dismissed initially. And by dismissed, I mean it flopped (relatively speaking of course.) It failed to reach the heights of its predecessor so you know, flop. Paul’s Boutique is the Beastie Boys at their weirdest and most liberated, as if they were on a funky island with turntables, samplers, and a drum machine. It has become a shining moment of experimental hip hop and a testament to the band’s willingness to push both themselves and boundaries. License to Ill introduced the band to the world, but Paul’s Boutique let us see their true intentions even if it did the world a little while to catch on. 1. Ill Communication (1994) Any one of the Beastie Boys albums in the top three could occupy the top spot. If overall, this is a game of inches, then the top three is a game of millimeters. Not even daylight is getting in between the top three albums on this ranking. Personally, I ride with Ill Communication, and as for why, well it’s because of its scope. Ill Communication is the best kind of massive album. It’s wide-ranging, expansive, diverse, confounding, and something to strive for. You can find something new every time you listen to it. They kick around elements of jazz, funk, punk, and more, sometimes in the same song. “Sabotage” will forever stand the test of time, but it’s no less important than a tune like “Root Down,” which is a top-five Beastie Boys song. “Get It Together” featuring Q-Tip is a master class in collaboration and the instrumentals on the album are next level. The album has 20 songs on it but it definitely doesn’t feel that long. At various points, the songs seamlessly flow into one another. Ill Communication is the Beastie Boys’ high water mark, the moment they became true cultural barometers. It’s one of the best albums to come out of the 1990s, and one of the best albums produced by New York City. It’s the Beastie Boys firing on all cylinders and, because of that, it’s number one. Portions of this piece originally appeared on UPROXX Ryan O'Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. In short order, Ryan loves the Boston Red Sox, New England Patriots, the Black Keys, the Roots, his family, The Wire & the writing of Dave Eggers although his last couple books have been “meh” at best. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. To read more from Ryan, visit GiddyUpAmerica.com

If asked, I would generally recommend both a ghost tour and a ghost hunt. They are the same, but different. In the end, it comes down to what you want to get out of it. You want an experience, you want some history, you want a little bit of both, possibly with a drink in hand? Now, I’m able to speak with some semblance of authority on this matter because I’ve been fortunate enough to have participated in both a ghost hunt and a ghost tour. What can I say? I’m down for such things once October rolls around. Me personally, I prefer a ghost hunt. Why? Ghost hunts are hilarious. I don’t think they’re supposed to be. I think they’re meant to be somber and serious and if things pan out, scary and haunting. But the one I went on? It was just a fantastic good time. I think I even took a nap at one point. Just a win/win situation all around. Let’s see. It was in the fall of 2006, a month or so after I had moved to Philadelphia, and one of my roommates, who was from central Pennsylvania, was going home for the weekend. His mother did some kind of tutoring at an old Freemason’s Lodge in Bloomsburg and a group of ghost hunters was doing a ghost hunt there. She had scored an invite, he asked if I wanted to come and of course, I wanted to go and that was that. Let’s go to central Pennsylvania for the weekend. The building itself definitely looked haunted and in saying that, I’m not just doing so because I’m of the opinion that any building that is older than 100 years old is haunted. It looked creepy and I remember the town of Bloomsburg being quiet that night, a breeze blew through town and the lack of much exterior lighting in town made things darker than they were. Vibe in check, kid. The ghost hunt is a go. Although for professionals, it’s not really called a ghost hunt. It’s a paranormal investigation. Respect the process. And the investigation was being carried out by a group from southeastern Pennsylvania. They were in this for real; here to snuff out some paranormal activity complete with digital cameras and tape recorders and video recorders and more digital cameras and snacks and notebooks. See, you use digital cameras because it allows you to take pictures of ghosts. Or specifically, orbs. You can catch orbs with your camera and the orbs I think are kind of like ghosts or parts of a ghost. They’re somehow connected and with a digital camera, you can take pictures of them. And that was the first thing we did. We went down into the basement and it was dark. All of the lights were off and the only sound was the clicking of digital cameras followed by people in our party commenting on how they saw one. Big orbs and little orbs. Faint orbs and oh, super clear orbs. Those count extra. That was the first part and I came away with a lot of pictures of a dark room and what may or may not be something related to ghosts in them. Orbs. We then moved to the second floor and the costume room. I thought a costume room was a weird room to have but apparently, these Freemasons are a theatrical sort and as a result, they had a room with costumes. We didn’t take many pictures here. I think in this room we mainly listened. For what? I don’t know but we did. It was here where I dozed off for a bit. It was very quiet and I may or may not have been stoned. In the end, the costume room was something of a dud. Certainly not as action-packed as the orb-filled basement. It was at this point that things got a little weird. My roommate disappeared. He vanished. But no, not like, OH MY GOD, CHRIS IS GONE but more like, where’s Chris…oh, he went up to the attic with the janitor. Sure. And so with Chris out of pocket, I tagged along with his family to the auditorium. In the center of the room, two of the investigators had a recorder set up and notes in front of them. Apparently, there had been ghost sightings in this room and you know, I’m pretty sure they were trying to hear something. So we all had to be quiet and listen. Listen for what? I don’t know. We were just listening and at some point, one of them became convinced they heard letters or even better, initials! Then we took a break and I found Chris outside, where he was smoking a cigarette and looking shaken. He had gone up to the attic with the janitor and an investigator and had had an encounter. He said that he felt something push him up against the wall and normally I would dismiss such a claim but my dude is one of the most rock steady people I have ever met and if he’s shook, then there’s a reason for concern. We eventually returned to the auditorium where the same janitor who had escorted Chris up to the attic had cracked the case of the initials discovered by the investigators and now the investigators were asking if this person, who was a member or something was there. They would ask and wait. Ask and wait. Ask and wait. This went on for a while. Ask and wait. Ask and wait. Ask and HOLY SHIT WAS THAT A NOISE? Was that a response? Was this person around and… I don’t really remember anything else. But it was fun. Highly recommend participating in a paranormal investigation if given the chance. Now, ghost tours, different story there. I have gone on two ghost tours, one in Philadelphia and one in New Hope, a quiet little town on the border of Pennsylvania and New Jersey. I will say that the key to a good ghost tour is the tour guide. If they’re not selling, you’re not buying and you’ve wasted your money. My biggest takeaway from the ghost tour in Philadelphia is that the ghost of Ben Franklin is everywhere. He’s in windows and in parks. He’s walking down alleys, in old taverns, in more windows, and generally just kind of hanging out, hanging around, and doing casual ghost stuff. I can’t tell how much of it was baloney and in line with Philly’s connection with Franklin and how much was real. Although wondering how much is real is just part of a ghost hunt. But no really, the ghost of Ben Franklin is like cheesesteak places. There’s one on every corner in Philly. The New Hope ghost tour could best be remembered for being extremely cold but I don’t think that had anything to do with ghosts. It was just really fucking cold and as a result, kind of not as fun. The common theme with both tours though was history and connections to the Revolutionary War. In Philadelphia, where a beautiful city park now sits was also the site of mass graves following the war and you know, as a result, there have been sightings of ghost soldiers roaming the grounds. And Ben Franklin of course. In New Hope, there was a hotel that I’m pretty sure took care of wounded soldiers and I don’t know, maybe burned bodies in the basement and so now there are one or two potentially haunted rooms. Great views of the river though. Go in fall. The foliage is to die for. There were ghost pigs in New Hope too, courtesy of an old butcher. Who doesn’t love a story that ends with you can still hear the screams? Ghost tours are usually about an hour or so long and based on the two I’ve been on, the novelty wears off pretty quickly. Don’t tell them I said this, but a lot of it comes off as bullshit; a lot of some say this and some say that and its been said that…you don’t actually see any ghosts, which is a bummer. You know you probably won’t, but you still go into a ghost tour hoping for at least a glimpse. Instead, though, you get history. But history is dope! Once the shine of the ghost tour wears off, you can salvage the experience by leaning into the historical side of the tour. Again, this is where a good tour guide factors in. You want them to sell it but also come with facts in hand. The Philadelphia ghost tour was in the Olde City area of the city and ghost stories aside, there’s a lot of cool shit that went down in that area. If you play your cards right, you’ll get schooled some on a lot of it and the tour would have been worth it. Bring some road sodas too. Can’t hurt. Just make sure to bring one for the ghost of Ben Franklin. Ghost hunts or sorry, paranormal investigations: enjoyable, entertaining, possibly f--king wild shit, man. Ghost tours: nice exercise, good little walk, fun facts, probably Ben Franklin. You can’t go wrong with either.

It doesn’t feel as if history has been all that kind to the Red Hot Chili Peppers and while they’re reportedly working on a new album, it remains to be seen if anyone is reportedly waiting to hear it. I mean, I am, but I might be in the minority there. But such is life for a band once they close in on nearly four decades together. At a certain point, an act faces a fork in the road. One path consists of playing the hits and keeping things going, while the other path is made up of new material and the pitfalls that come with dropping something new when it’s quite possible no one is all that interested anymore. It’s tough but it’s true. Just ask U2. For the Chili Peppers, their career can best be described as falling into three stages. There was the first stage, the one with the socks on cocks and punk-infused funk-rock and then there was the second stage, where they seemingly put it all together and became a bonafide rock ‘n roll force. Finally, there was the third stage, the one we’re currently in and the one where the remnants of glory achieved during the previous stage have long since started to fade. The band is still a draw but not nearly the draw they were and chances are, people are more likely to line up to hear something from that second stage than anything from the third stage, with a few exceptions of course. The band’s most recent albums, 2011’s I’m With You and 2016’s The Getaway aren’t perfect but that doesn’t mean they don’t have a handful of good songs on them. The apex of that second stage was the one/two punch of Californication and By the Way, but we would never have gotten to that point had Blood Sugar Sex Magik not happened. Released on September 24, 1991, the album was a continuation of the maturation in their sound demonstrated throughout 1989’s Mother’s Milk and for what felt like the first time, laid out a path to the future for a band that felt like they would burn out long before the turn of the century. Rock bands rarely age well. Rock bands that perform with socks on their dicks definitely don’t but with their fifth album, the band showed that there was much more to them than trash funk, tattoos, and nudity. They had songs too and good ones at that. With the help of producer Rick Rubin, the band broke through with songs like “Give It Away,” “Suck My Kiss” and “Under the Bridge.” There was still an edge to the band, but it was a different kind of edge than they had before. The punk rock tendencies had been replaced by stadium-ready rock and for the most part, there was no going back. Blood Sugar Sex Magik is clearly the band’s most important album, but is it the best album? As for songs, you can find a playlist of my forty or so favorites here. 11. Red Hot Chili Peppers (1984) So you do one of these rankings and that first album is always a tricky one to place. Typically they end up fairly high on the list because of what they’ve come to mean and the nuggets of potential it showed. The Chili Peppers’ self-titled debut album showed a few glimpses of the band’s potential but not a whole lot. Instead, the album is a manic burst of reckless, sun-soaked energy and as a result, there isn’t much there in terms of a cohesive vision. In their defense, the band’s drummer (Jack Irons) and guitarist (Hillel Slovak) dipped out before the album was done, which probably didn’t help things. But either way, the album is a collection of songs, not an album, and of the songs involved, only something like “True Men Don’t Kill Coyotes” is worth bringing up all these years later. 10. I’m With You (2011) I’m With You came out almost six years after the album that proceeded it, the double album Stadium Arcadium and with it came a band that was again looking to rediscover itself in the wake of John Frusciante’s departure. Frusciante had left in 2009 to work on his solo material and was replaced by guitarist Josh Klinghoffer, who had been the band’s touring guitarist. For the most part, there wasn’t much of a difference between the guitarists sound-wise but what was truly missing was Frusciante’s songwriting that had helped further develop the band’s sound since he rejoined after his first departure in 1998. I’m With You isn’t a bad album, but it also feels like a band playing it safe and one would never associate the Chili Peppers with playing it safe. Again, this is a band that would frequently perform wearing only socks and not on their feet. 9. Freaky Styley (1985) The band’s second album featured them leaning heavily into their funk influences and fandom and what better way to do that than bring in one of your heroes to produce it, which is what they did by enlisting George Clinton to steer the recording of the album. As a result, the album is slightly more fluid and cohesive than their debut, coming almost close to having a sonic narrative throughline. The love of funk certainly helped and the album features a handful of songs that would become classics in the band’s catalog, most notably “Jungle Man” and “Catholic School Girls Rule,” as well as their cover of Sly and the Family Stone’s “If You Want Me To Stay.” The band also brought Slovak to play guitar, a move that most likely helped the band again find their way. 8. The Getaway (2016) Rick Rubin and the band had worked together on every Chili Peppers’ album since Blood Sugar Sex Magik but nothing isn’t meant to last forever and change can be good, especially for an act three decades plus into their career. On The Getaway, Danger Mouse was brought in to produce and the result is an album that sounds markedly different than any of the Rubin albums. Although it’s still a Red Hot Chili Peppers’ album, so it’s not as if it sounds drastically different. The band had always felt like creatures of the night but on The Getaway, the band was the soundtrack to more of a chill, introspective night; one with some candles lit and a few bottles of wine. The vibe is different, for better or worse. 7. One Hot Minute (1995) Amidst the band’s touring to support Blood Sugar Sex Magik, Frusciante bailed out for the first time. Dave Navarro of Jane’s Addiction was their first choice to replace Frusciante but was struggling with drug addiction. It would take a year or two for him to get to a place where he felt like he could join up, which he did officially in 1993. On paper, it looked like a win. There had always been similarities between Jane’s and the Chili Peppers and adding Navarro would allow the band to continue along the path they had forged with Blood Sugar Sex Magik. And at first, it looked and sounded that way but by the time they got to One Hot Minute, the melodic tendencies of Frusciante had been replaced by the big, heavy rock riffs that Navarro was partial to. One Hot Minute is a darker, heavier album than other Chili Peppers’ albums, almost sounding like the product of a different band, which I suppose they kind of were for a few years there. 6. The Uplift Mofo Party Plan (1987) Okay now. By their third album, the band had started to find its footing. Slovak, the band’s original guitarist was fully back on board, as was their original drummer Jack Irons. With two albums and non-stop touring under their belts, the band put together their best and most polished effort to date. It’s was also their first album to break into the Billboard 200, driven by songs like “Fight Like a Brave,” “Me and My Friends” and “Behind the Sun.” Producer Michael Beinhorn had encouraged them to explore musical styles beyond funk and punk, leading them to dip their toes into metal, hard rock, and reggae waters. Uplift is a solid “our boys are growing up album” and if Slovak hadn’t died of an overdose while touring after the album’s release and Irons hadn’t left as a result, it’s interesting to think about what the band’s career would have then looked like. 5. Stadium Arcadium (2006) Ugh, double albums. Acts think they’re such great ideas but rarely are they. More often than not, they come across as bloated and not really needed. You could cut down Stadium Arcadium from 29 songs to 14 and have a much stronger album, one that would certainly be ranked higher on this particular list. Even still, Stadium Arcadium is a certified monster of an album and was a showcase for Frusciante, who at that time was clearly operating at the peak of his powers. The album sold over seven million units and went on to win five Grammys including one for Best Rock Album. If the release was of Blood Sugar Sex Magik was the band’s first inflection point, the release of Stadium Arcadium was the second. 4. Mother’s Milk (1989) The band’s two rocks, Anthony Kiedis and Flea were in rough shape following the death of Slovak, with Kiedis, who had also developed a serious drug addiction, entering rehab. Along with trying to keep their lives together, the two friends also had to find a way to keep their band together in light of losing two members. Luckily they struck gold with the young Frusciante and drummer Chad Smith who brought with him a distinctive thundering swinging style. Anchored by “Knock Me Down” and their cover of Stevie Wonder’s “Higher Ground,” Mother’s Milk was the band throwing it all out there and finally breaking through. After three uneven albums, on Mother’s Milk, they started to put it all together- the funk, the punk, and the rock. 3. Californication (1999) As they had ten years earlier, the band was attempting to crawl themselves out of a hole of darkness and despair. The Navarro experiment had failed, Kiedis had relapsed and they were struggling to again seek out a path forward. The first step towards getting things back on track happened when Flea reached out to Frusciante who himself had developed a serious drug addiction since leaving the band. Flea invited him back, a move that Frusciante said was instrumental in him getting his life back together. With Frusciante again in the band, the Chili Peppers produced one of their most successful albums commercially. And while a lot of attention was paid to the return of Frusciante, Kiedis’ vocal style had changed. There was less rapping and more singing, a move that allowed the band to go in more directions, inherently making them a more interesting band as they wrapped up their second decade together. 2. Blood Sugar Sex Magik (1991) If not for Blood Sugar Sex Magik, the Red Hot Chili Peppers would have faded from view and existence a long time ago. The album didn’t just save them, it re-defined them, something that was needed after a decade of shenanigans, drug abuse, and tragedy. They didn’t run from their past though, as it factored in heavily to Kiedis’ lyrics, especially in “Under the Bridge.” Even the wild side of the band was still around despite their perceived maturity, but songs like “Suck My Kiss” and “Give It Away” hit differently than they would have if they had shown up earlier in the band’s career. The album is almost a perfect example of what can happen if you give an exciting young band time to grow and have them team up with the right producer who can shepherd them along and help develop their sound without betraying everything they had done up until that point. 1. By the Way (2002) Frusciante was just starting to get his act together when he had rejoined the band prior to the recording of Californication and by the time it was time to record By the Way, he was back in prime fighting shape. Yet with Frusciante’s growing role in the band a plus musically, it was a potential hand grenade culture-wise as Flea felt threatened by his elevated status in the band. Thankfully, any issues were resolved. On By the Way, the band moved away from the funk/rock of the past, something that Flea still held onto dearly. Led by Frusciante, the band explored more melody-driven sounds, whether it was lyrically, vocally, or musically. They experimented with different instrumentation, bringing in strings and keyboards, layering sounds to create a lushness that had never been heard on a Chili Peppers’ album before. If everything up to that point for the band had been various forms of chaos, By the Way was a relaxing Sunday afternoon in late summer spent sitting back and staring at the ocean. It was a calm that was much needed for the band and was needed for them to even consider moving forward and definitely needed if they were going to tackle something like Stadium Arcadium. Which definitely shouldn’t have been a double album, by the way. Ryan O’Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. See more of his writing at GiddyUpAmerica.com

Recently I watched Jaws. I love Jaws and rarely need an excuse to watch it. It might be one of my favorite movies and for the most part, I don’t really care about sharks. Jaws is fun to watch in the summer because it’s essentially a summer movie and you know, when in Rome. But it’s great to watch any other time of year also because if nothing else, it makes you think about summer, and studies have shown that thinking about summer is never a bad thing. For the record, I have never seen any of the Jaws sequels and never intend to. If they rebooted Jaws today (give it time,) I’d have to really think about it in regards to seeing it. In the end, though, I can’t imagine I’d see it. I never saw the Point Break reboot so you best be sure I’d dip out on a Jaws remake. I’ve also never seen Godfather 3 and I love the first two. Sometimes it’s just best to pretend some things don’t exist so as not to diminish something you love. A reboot is one thing but when watching Jaws this past weekend, I started thinking that it’s madness that no one has ever kicked around the idea of doing a prequel that is a Quint origin story. Prequels are like Hansel these days and it seems like with each passing day, a new one is announced. Prequels are something of a workaround for mining existing IP. It’s not a cheap out likely simply rebooting something and can be passed off as original storytelling because, in some ways, it is. It’s also not but also, kind of is. It’s a little bit of gray area. Yet the point remains, Jaws is a timeless classic and one of the best films of all time and Quint is the film’s best character. And for the most part, we don’t know a hell of a lot about him. In fact, what we do know barely merits a bullet-point list (but let’s do one anyway.) His name is Quint His hat has seen better days He likes what I think are crackers He lives in a large, open floor-plan boathouse He hunts sharks He’s apparently pretty good at hunting sharks He served in the Navy and saw some shit He got in a fight in Boston on St. Patrick’s Day (who hasn’t) He died There. That’s it. But as some like to say, there’s a lot of meat left on the bone there story-telling wise, kid. I mean, how old is Quint? Is Quint from Amity? WHAT THE HELL IS HIS FIRST NAME OR IS QUINT HIS FIRST NAME AND IF THAT’S THE CASE, WHAT THE HELL IS HIS LAST NAME? Can you make a living being a shark hunter or like a lot of people who live in summer communities up north, does he do handyman work during the winter months? I found a website that says he ran a distillery and ran a whale oil business, although neither of those things can be independently verified. We first see Quint interrupting the shark-planning meeting followed by Brody tracking down at his place of residence where he had the jaw of something boiling in a pot. I didn’t see anything that could point towards his other gigs as a bootlegger and/or whale oil businessman but who knows, maybe I missed that. Quint’s apex in the movie is probably his monologue about the horrors he experienced when the ship he was serving on during World War II, the USS Indianapolis, sank and the majority of the crew were eaten by sharks. It’s a gripping story and an equally gripping moment in the film. In just a shade over three minutes, you get a clearer picture of who Quint is and why he’s the way he is, hardened and stoic, not keen on dealing with those that he feels haven’t paid their dues. Yet even still, if we’re to assume that Jaws takes place around the time it was released, 1975, then there are about 30 years of living for Quint in between the Indianapolis massacre and his death hunting Jaws. And, if like most soldiers fighting in World War II, Quint was either in his late teens or early 20s when he was enlisted. So that would give you at least 18 years on the front end and 30 years on the backend to play with, to tell the story about a vet living his days haunted by ghosts and demons, spending his time trying to get his revenge. What kind of man lives a life like Quint’s, hunting sharks and possibly making booze? Does he spend most of his time alone or at some point, did he take up with a woman (or man?) Does Quint have kids somewhere? Maybe he spent some time in jail, either before or after the war? Imagine the possibilities of traveling through American history from 1920 something to the mid-seventies through the eyes of Quint? It’d be like Forrest Gump but just with more drinking, swearing, and potentially some casual racism. Probably less ping pong too. Quint seems like more of a darts man. And because a good prequel needs a twist, what if the Indianapolis story never happened? Or if it did, it went down much differently than Quint’s account? What if Quint was somehow at fault for it happening and that guilt led him to a life of isolation and reclusiveness? He hunts sharks not because they killed his friends but because, well, they did, but so did he and he pledges to spend the rest of his life atoning for the mistake he made all of those years ago? Or it did happen that way and we just get an origin story about the best character from one of the best movies ever. Either way, it’s a win/win, chiefy.

Well, friends, it’s been almost two weeks since Phish wrapped up the first little jaunt of their summer tour. We’ve had some time to decompress, reflect, possibly decompress some more, do some homework, and when all is said and done, report back our findings to, I don’t know, Twitter. The bottom line is that hey, Phish is back! That’s pretty sweet. But beyond the sweet, sweet pleasure of the boys getting back out there are some tasty little nuggets of Phish-related wisdom we took from the shows. In all fairness, their return was met with mixed reactions, as that first show of the tour was a touch on the bumpy side. And of course, it was! The rust is real! I went back to work for the first time since the shutdown and couldn’t remember my voicemail password, had super stale granola bars in one of my desk drawers, wasn’t sure how to do small talk with people that weren’t my family, and no really, what the hell was my voicemail password and does it even matter because phones are the worst. So on that note, totally makes sense that Phish was a little shaky out of the gate. But like my voicemail password, everything came bounding back eventually! Ha, I’m just kidding. I have no idea what my voicemail password is and truth be told, I don’t really care. Don’t leave a message. That’s what email is for. By the second show of the tour, Phish had their sea legs under them and was ready to embark on this next chapter in their storied career. Was it a continuation of 3.0 or the start of 4.0 or was it maybe 3.5? I don’t know. They got their mojo back right quick and that’s all that matters. I’m serious. It’s all that matters because fun fact, this COVID thing is still a thing and God knows what tomorrow holds. Phish is slated to get back out there soon but I don’t know. If we’ve learned anything over the past year or so it’s that we shouldn’t take anything for granted. It could all be gone tomorrow and there’s nothing we can do about it. Well, we also learned the value of leisurewear. But after that, don’t take things for granted. Leisurewear and don’t take things for granted. And if that first leg of Phish’s 2021 summer tour is all we get from them for a bit, we don’t have much to complain about. Here are some takeaways from the shows Phish played this summer. Plus, stay tuned for a bonus take from A SPECIAL GUEST! Yeah, a special guest. And no, it’s not Jon Fishman’s sampler. That thing’s fee is way out of my price range. Let’s get to it. All Of The Lights Phish’s lighting designer Chris Kuroda has always been something of a visual wizard, constantly finding new ways to play around and experiment with stage lighting, but man, what he cooked up for this summer tour was something special. That shit comes alive. It moves! It shape-shifts and contorts and at one point in Hershey I think it winked at me but I can’t be sure. I might have winked back. Who the hell knows, man. It was hot out. I’m old school and I come from a land where stage lighting is connected, all part of one interlocked system. I’m sure others have done what Kuroda has done this summer, basically breaking his lighting rig into sections, but I’ve never seen it before. And if it’s new to you, then its best to assume it’s new to everyone else because no one wants to feel left out. You know like, “we’re all in this together and we love to take a bath” and whatnot. Now, I pointed this out on the Twitter and someone came flying off the top rope, throwing shade and saying something about Skrillex. Well sir, for starters, “Wild For The Night” by A$AP Rocky featuring this Skrillex fella is an effin’ great song. Secondly, I work in events. It’s what I do and because of that, I get excited about truly unique production tricks, which is what Kuroda’s light rig is. And yeah, I think the lights might have winked at me at some point. Ain’t No Stopping Him Now Jon Fishman is a good drummer. He’s a pillar of the community in the small coastal town of Lincolnville, Maine and he’s a damn good drummer. These are universal truths. But for a moment, let’s go back to the closing ceremonies of the London Olympics. The three surviving members of Queen took the stage to perform, playing “We Will Rock You.” And it was fine. Of course, it was fine. Yet what stuck out to me and to this day is something I still think about is how stiff and old the band’s drummer Roger Taylor looked. Drummers just don’t age well. And it’s not their fault! Drumming is a physical, contact sport and for the most part, it’s a young man’s game. This was on my mind when thinking about what these next few years might look like with our beloved Fishman. Could he keep up with the style of playing fans were accustomed to? He played some crazy, wild shit back in the day and when the band dusted off one of their oldies but goodies, he would have to get pretty damn close to those legendary parts. Again, drummers don’t age well, and again, it’s not their fault. Stuff those worries in a burlap sack and toss ’em in the river kid because ole’ John Fishman hasn’t missed a beat! Sorry! I couldn’t help it. The point of the story is that Fishman has been killing it. He’s been so tight and on point and JUST LISTEN TO WHAT MY MAN IS DOING ON THE DAMN SNARE DRUM! There’s a point in “Run Like An Antelope” from the first Hershey show where he explodes and what’s coming from the snare drum sounds like a stampeding band of marauders storming across the plains and who are we to stop them? We can’t stop them. It’s pointless. It’s a stampeding band of marauders. Just give up. And just enjoy Jon Fishman, friends. He truly is one of a kind. “Blaze On” Joins The Big Kids’ Table Phish has been playing “Blaze On” since 2015 and it has become a staple of theirs these past few years. Elevating it to the big kids’ table shouldn’t be a surprise and I’m sure there’s someone reading this and sighing because “ugh, my dude, “Blaze On” has been at the big kids’ table for a while.” Fine. And fair. Totally fair. I never once claimed to be a Phish expert. With that being said, I do think one of the highlights of this run was the band’s “Blaze On” from night one at Deer Creek. “Blaze On” always tends to stretch its legs but this particular version was some high-level business, nearly clocking in at half-hour and in the process, traveling more than most of us have in the past year or so. You know, because of the pandemic. Phish has their heavy hitters, the columns of their Parthenon. I’ll let other people more in the know when it comes to Phish decide whether or not “Blaze On” has joined those ranks. But if we’re casting votes, I’m saying yes. Lots of good words of advice in there too and in the business, we call that a twofer and twofers are the best. Covering The Bases (Again) Back in April, I stepped up to the plate and presented to the masses my choices for the top ten songs Phish covers. And yeah, I got some shit for it. I got a little bit of praise and a little haggling. But I did get some shit and that’s cool. One does not write anything on the Internet and then share it without the assumption that it will bring shit down upon them. Gotta be prepared, kid. To recap, my list went as follows: 10. “Golden Age” 9. “Sneakin’ Sally Through the Alley” 8. “2001” 7. “Ya Mar” 6. “Roses Are Free” 5. “Rock and Roll” 4. “Funky Bitch” 3. “Cities” 2. “My Soul” 1. “Loving Cup” The biggest error is definitely not including “Crosseyed and Painless.” I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve apologized for omitting it. I don’t feel great about it. I biffed it. I can own that. So, where would “Crosseyed” go and what would it replace? It is a tough one, Garth Brooks. Thank you. The obvious answer is “Golden Age” and because of my appreciation of Phammer, I feel bad saying it. However, after seeing “Golden Age” in person, I get it. It’s much better in person than it is at home. It makes sense in the way four beers on a Tuesday night sometimes makes sense. But, I feel like the band is kind of using the TV On The Radio song as a vehicle for jams whereas, with other songs on the list, they’re tipping their hat to the original and paying their respects. And so, unfortunately, “Golden Age” gets bumped and “Crosseyed” moves in, and while doing so, jumps up a couple spots to the four spot. Crazy? Yes. A big jump? Totally? Justified? A great show. Moving on! And now, our special guest… Coming in hot from sunny Kansas City, he’s a beacon of light in the world of flight that is Phish Twitter, its @Phammertime kids… Have you ever been standing in the middle of a field, in the middle of America, in the middle of your closest friends, in the middle of a monster jam? What would be your reaction? Well that was me on August 8th and I am here to tell you exactly what came out of my mouth on that precise moment. So many things were running through my head. The emotions and the sensory overload could have prompted anything to leave my mouth but the one thing I did know was that something was coming out. My only recourse was to scream, and what I screamed was my two word takeaway from the whole tour so far. The only way I can describe the first leg back for Phish 2021 is… “THE VIBES!”. That’s what I exclaimed on the grassy knoll known as the Deer Creek lawn and that is what this tour is all about for me. The 4.0 sound is real. The growling tones of Trey. The new synthesizer sounds of Page. Mike just being Mike but somehow more Mike like, and of course Fish. The sample god and layer of all the funk beats. All of this is true but in my humble opinion, not the point. The performance of the band has been increasingly building and by the time the west coast swing begins, they will be in full championship form no doubt, but more than anything, this tour is a family reunion. The kind you actually want to attend. The full scope and history of this year in our lives and Phish is still incomplete, but my experience with the shows I saw was packed with what I can only describe as “THE VIBES!” I truly hope that this will continue into the foreseeable future and beyond so that everyone can feel a little of it. May “THE VIBES!” be with you always, Phammer And now, onto the second leg of summer tour 2021! Ryan O’Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. See more of his writing at GiddyUpAmerica.com His writing is republished here with permission.

Back in the day, we had greatest hits albums. Although they were better suited if you were just getting into a band that had a fairly extensive catalog. What usually happened was that after you had collected a handful of CDs by a particular artist, your next get at your favorite record store was a block of blank cassette tapes because it was time for a mixtape. But even then, a lot of mixtapes were comprised of a variety of artists. Either way, a mixtape was made up of a lot of songs. If memory serves me correct (which it does roughly 47% of the time,) tapes came in either 30 minute, 45 minute, 90 minute or 120-minute form. Unless you are making a tape of Phish live songs or something like that, you could fill even a 45-minute tape with a good amount of songs pretty easily. Mixed CDs were cool and all, but they lacked the level of commitment found with mixtapes. Skipping ruined everything. Now, let’s fast forward to the dawn of streaming services and the creating of playlists. Suddenly there is no limit whatsoever to how many songs you can add to a mix. The world is your oyster or in some cases, your Blue Oyster Cult if that’s what you were gunning for. I have one playlist with almost 2,000 songs on it. Yes, that seems excessive. But, if you look at it as your own personal radio station, it’s pretty useful. Just press shuffle and see what happens. Anyway, for the purpose of this exercise, let’s focus on playlists that consist solely of one band or musician. We all make them; dump a bunch of an act’s songs in a playlist and call it a day. Sometimes Spotify even does it for us. But where is the fun in that? Music is all about the personal connection between the music and the listener. If you love a band, you should want to make your own playlist of them. You should want your songs on there, not songs picked by a computer in the back offices of Spotify HQ. Dumping a hearty chunk of a band’s catalog into a playlist is easy though! And where’s the fun in that? If you have no limitations on what you’re doing, then you remove any challenges associated with that act. That’s why I started putting caps on my artist playlists. Instead of an arbitrary number of songs from The Black Keys, let’s do a playlist of 35 of their best songs. Let’s do 30 Kings of Leon songs and 25 Led Zeppelin songs and 20 songs from The Strokes. Even newer bands can get in the fun: 20 songs from The Revivalists, 20 songs from Portugal. The Man, 20 songs from Gaslight Anthem. Small catalog, no problem! 20 songs from Nirvana is in play because their discography is, unfortunately, smaller than we’d like, with the same going for The Police. And it’s not enough to add limits. Sequence that shit! It’s more fun that way. The other day I thought of a different path to take when it comes to dedicated artist playlists. I was going to create albums, or more specifically, album-length playlists. Without the benefit of actual scientific-findings, I would say that the perfect length of an album is 12 songs. I would listen to a case being made for ten and a case being made for 14, even 15. Anything beyond that is ridiculous (looking at you, Drake) and anything less than ten goes by too fast. Twelve is money. It’ll get you to at least close to an hour, if not longer, and it’s just the right amount of songs to listen to before you get antsy, which has become increasingly easy with Spotify at your beck and call. Going back to tapes, part of their lasting appeal was that if you wanted to change a song, it was a chore. And if you wanted to change the tape, well first, you had to find it. And who among us never almost got into a car accident because you were reaching around for another tape to put in the stereo? Tapes were ride or die. Spotify is ride or fly. For the 12 Album Challenge, I made a few rules: 12 songs of course. The 12 songs could come from a band or artists’ entire catalog. You can’t lean too heavily on one or two albums. Once the songs are picked, they had to be sequenced so that they sounded like an album. That meant mixing things up and thinking about how the album should start, how it should end, where the slow song should go, etc. Also, to make things worth it, I started with bands that had at least half a dozen albums. This made it harder to choose songs. If I did this with a band like Vampire Weekend, it probably wouldn’t be that tough. Doing it with a band like Pearl Jam, though? Significantly tougher. The same goes for the Foo Fighters. I tackled Weezer because even though their last album was a cringe-worthy covers album and what’s been released from the upcoming Black Album sounds terrible, they still have a lot of good songs. Weezer was actually the inspiration for this, as I was looking at my playlist of 30 Weezer songs and started thinking about how I could ever figure out a way to cut it down to a more manageable number. Green Day was a band that I had recently created a playlist for, prompted to do so by the 25th anniversary of their album Dookie. The playlist came out at 40 songs, which is great, but that’s also a lot of Green Day songs. I’m not sure how often I’d want to listen to that many Green Day songs. However, I would probably want to listen to 12 Green Day songs pretty often. The same goes for Oasis. I think about Oasis every so often, but had never actually put an Oasis playlist together. It’s probably because their first two albums are so good, it’s easier to just to put those on. But that’s ignoring some of the good stuff on the few albums that came after that. Not anymore! To really challenge myself, I attempted to put together a Tom Petty 12 song playlist. That one was a doozy because his career spans four decades and consists of a boatload of great songs. Before this, the closest I had gotten to narrowing things down was a playlist of his twenty best songs that was compiled shortly after he died. That was also “his 20 best songs.” I also did a playlist of my 30 favorite Petty songs and even narrowing it down to 30 was tough. When it came time to pick only 12, I first thought of doing it by era or breaking it up by decade, but then decided to say screw it and go through the whole catalog. And I couldn’t do any of this without doing a playlist for Rustic Overtones, one of my favorite bands of all time. A playlist by another one of my favorite bands, The Roots is tricky because of the way their songs start and end. See, adding sequencing makes it trickier! I like the challenge of this. Spotify, for all of its positives and benefits, has also made us lazy. They tell us what’s new and what we might like based on what we’ve been listening too. They create playlists of artists, they create playlists for moods, they create playlists for damn near everything. If we want to do something on our own, all we have to do is drag and drop and we’re good to go. But it never used to be this easy to be a music fan and while I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, it’s definitely a thing. I’m not sure if the 12 song album thing will work, but it’s worth taking a shot. Ryan O’Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. Read more of his writing at GiddyUpAmerica.com See more from our Local Writer's section by clicking here!

Did you know that Lukas Nelson is Willie Nelson’s kid? Yeah, you probably did. Did you know that Nelson worked with Bradley Cooper on songs for A Star Is Born and Nelson and his band Promise Of The Real played Cooper’s backing band in the film? You might have known that. Or you didn’t know either of those things and in all honesty, hadn’t really heard of Nelson and his band. And that’s fine. There’s a lot of music out there. An act or 500 are bound to slip through the cracks. You are not alone. We’re in this together, friends. But having a passing knowledge or even no knowledge of Nelson is a damn shame. For the better part of the last decade, Nelson and Promise Of The Real have been chugging along, perfecting their own take on down-home, road-weary, alt-country rock. They can kick the tires and get loud and they can hush the masses with tenderness all within a ten-minute span on one of their six albums with their seventh album, A Few Stars Apart released on Friday. Rolling Stone has already declared the album Nelson’s best, saying that it’s “Nelson’s most compact, streamlined, and focused album yet.” The album was written when Nelson was hunkered down at his dad’s place in Texas during quarantine. In between taking up meditation, learning Chopin on the piano, and jamming out with his father and brother Micah, Nelson wrote over two dozen songs. As Nelson laid out to Rolling Stone, once things cooled down a bit with the pandemic, Nelson and the band headed north for Nashville, setting up shop to record with producer Dave Cobb. “We did a little surgical strike into Nashville. We snuck in and snuck out,” he says. (Don’t make me do it, Lukas Nelson.) Here are eight songs from Lukas Nelson & Promise Of The Real’s discography you should check out if you haven’t already. And if you’re already hip to these, well, have you heard of Arlo Parks? Check her out. “Something Real” There are two versions of this tune floating around the Nelsonverse, but I’m partial to the original, which comes from the band’s 2016 album Something Real. They gussied it up a bit and included a new version on their excellent 2019 album Turn Off The News (Build A Garden.) Both versions are killer but there’s more of an edge to the original, more of a shit-kicking vibe and I don’t need to tell you twice that Giddy Up America is incredibly pro-shit-kicking. This is bar fight music or if you’re a pacifist and/or not a drinker, it’s a hell of a driving song. “Fool Me Once” The band’s 2017 self-titled album is a solid restating of their purpose and goal and “Fool Me Once” is some mighty fine honky-tonk if you don’t mind me saying so. The song is some easy, Sunday afternoon, southern-living goodness and a nice tip of the cap to Nelson’s country roots. Sorry, not cap. Hat. Like a cowboy hat. That would make more sense all things considered. “Start To Go” It’s hard not to love a good EP, especially when it comes amidst a solid run of records by a group. 2018’s Forget About Georgia EP came on the heels of the 2017 self-titled album and before the band dropped Turn Off The News (Build A Garden.) It’s a quality placeholder between the two albums with the dirty rocker “Start To Go” being the highlight of the EP, which also features a cover of David Bowie’s “Life On Mars?” “Start To Go” is thumping and has some muscle behind it with a chorus that straight up soars. “Black Eyes” Bradley Cooper met Nelson back in 2016 when Nelson and Promise Of The Real were performing at Desert Trip. Cooper asked Nelson to serve as a musical consultant for A Star Is Born and then Nelson and the band ended up playing Cooper’s backing band in the film. Nelson wrote a handful of songs for the film with one of them being “Black Eyes,” which opened the film. As was stated previously, Giddy Up America is very much pro-shit-kicking rock and “Black Eyes” is incredibly shit-kicking. Hell of an opener too, whether it’s for a movie, concert or an album. “Turn Off The News (Build A Garden)” – Acoustic As far as words of wisdom go, in 2019 there wasn’t much out there that was better than to turn off the fucking news and build a garden. The phrase anchored Nelson’s 2019 album of the same name. The album featured two versions of the title track and while the full-band version one is really good, there is something special about the acoustic version that shows up towards the end of the album. It’s haunting, beautiful, and honest with the message of the song pushing through even more with the overall sparsity of the acoustic version. “Simple Life” This is another a track from the 2019 album and while the album’s title is a motto, “Simple Life” is more of a mission statement from Nelson. Here’s a Texas dude who has relocated to Hawaii, happy to spend his days playing music, surfing and golfing barefoot. My dude doesn’t even keep score when he golfs (which either means he’s good or terrible based on my experience.) Heading into 2020, preaching the pleasures and appeal of a simple life is basically doing the world a public service and is advice more people should pay attention to. “Bad Case” Okay, this is the last tune from Turn Off The News (Build A Garden) and while I was hesitant to include three tracks from the album, I couldn’t choose just one or two. And you know, I’m not going to apologize. I stand by my decisions. Now, with that out of the way, on “Bad Case,” Nelson and company channel golden era Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, especially in the guitar tones and harmonies in the chorus. It’s a beautiful country rock tune that would probably would have been right at home in the mid-1970s on AM radio. “My Own Wave” “It’s like we’re playing live guys. We’re rolling”. “My Own Wave” kicks off with Nelson addressing his bandmates in the studio and also reflects the relaxed vibe of the 2020 album, which was a companion piece to Turn Off The News (Build A Garden.) The album is comprised of tunes that didn’t make the cut for the 2019 album as well as alternate versions of songs that did. Part of the band’s goal was to give a fans a glimpse behind the curtain of the band. Hey, that’s always fun. “My Own Wave” is just a simple, good-time, easy-going rocker that seems to benefit from the laid back atmosphere of the sessions. But no really, turn off the fucking news and even if you don’t build a garden, just get outside for crying out loud.

Maroon 5 are set to release their seventh album on Friday. It’s called Jordi. The album features Megan Thee Stallion, the late Nipsey Hustle, Stevie Nicks, and a couple other people. Wonderful. I couldn't care less. However, there was a time, a long, long time ago, back when George W. Bush was president, the Red Sox/Yankees rivalry was must-see TV, and CD books were a thing when I actually cared quite a bit about Maroon 5. It seems borderline nuts now, but the passage of time is nothing if not a cruel method of inciting madness as you look back at your past decisions and choices. See, in my defense, Maroon 5’s first album, Songs About Jane, is pretty good. It is refreshing and fun, like an updated version of the best Hall & Oates songs run through the blender of late 90’s grunge. It’s smooth and soulful coupled with the lessons learned from the early 90s with music leaning heavily on the soft verse, loud chorus format. Note: We’re going to shift to past tense here because it’s just easier. Speaking glowingly of Maroon 5 in the present tense just doesn’t feel right. The album’s first single was “Harder to Breathe” and that song drove. The beat and groove were pulsating forward in a way that made the song sound more rocking than it actually was. As far as opening tracks go, it was a damn good one. The songs that brought the majority of people to the tent were the second and third singles, “This Love” and “She Will Be Loved.” “This Love” went on to win a Grammy for Best Pop Performance by a Duo/Group in 2006, four years after it was released. So yeah, it’s not like the band was an overnight success. They just kind of kept building momentum and speed until all of sudden they were everywhere, the “it” band of the mid-2000s. Maroon 5 hit that sweet spot in terms of audience response. The gals liked them because you could dance to their music and front-man Adam Levine was a good-looking dude and the fellas were cool with them because they played pop-rock that didn’t treat the rock part for granted. They could really rock if they wanted to. Well, rock in their own kind of way. No one was flipping over any tables or throwing back shots of Jager listening to Maroon 5. Let’s not get carried away here. They rocked in a way where it was fun to play some of their songs loud. But regardless of your gender, come on, how could you not like their song “Sunday Morning?” It’s light, breezy, fun to sing along to – everything you could possibly ask for when it comes to listening to a song in the car with friends. And I listened to Maroon 5 a lot while driving during a stretch there between 2003-2006. When the band I was in at the time was traveling around the Northeast for shows, it was one of those albums that seemed to be in heavy rotation. There was Maroon 5, Paranoid Social Club, Gang Starr, Rage Against the Machine, Soundgarden, and Sublime, because who wasn’t listening to Sublime in those days. Oddly enough, Dane Cook’s first two comedy albums Harmful If Swallowed and Retaliation were also frequently played in the Super Trooper, the band’s trusty vehicle. Cook is another artist that father time has left behind for me. Still, I’ll never not think about screaming YOU’RE ABOUT TO BE HIT BY A VEHICLE when I see it almost happen. Since Songs About Jane, Maroon 5 have gone in a direction I would say isn’t ideal from my perspective. They definitely left the rock part of themselves behind years ago and fully embraced the pop. Not that there is anything wrong with that, it’s just not my jam. Levine has become something of a revised version of that dude from Sugar Ray, Mark McGrath, a pop culture personality who has become bigger than his band, but in a way that’s not always positive. Also, somehow there are seven guys in Maroon 5 now. Seven! And at least two of those guys play keyboards. That is almost never a good sign. Multiple keyboardists are troubling unless you’re the Roots, although to be fair, the Roots are typically an exception to most rules. If you have seven members in a band, at least one of them should be playing a horn of some sort. Unless it’s a country/alt-country band and in that case, seven members is cool because the more guitars the merrier. Some acts are lucky enough that they can have such long careers that where they started out can easily get lost and forgotten. But I think it’s important to remember that first album or two because it can either show the band at its most raw or hint at some promise or potential. In the case of Maroon 5, remembering that first album is interesting as it sounds so different and so much more unique than what they are doing now over a decade later. Bands evolve and styles change. That’s part of the game. With that being said, it’s kind of an unwritten rule of fandom that if a band is around for more than three or four albums, you’re really under no obligation to stick with them through the entirety of their career. At a certain point, there’s a bail-out option. That is especially true if the act in question starts veering off in a direction you don’t like. I really liked that first Maroon 5 album and once in a blue moon, I dust it off and give it a spin. But I am under no such obligation to automatically like anything Maroon 5 did after that album. Which is good because I didn’t and still don’t. But I did like Songs About Jane and instead of paying any mind in the general direction of this new album of theirs, I’ll look fondly back on “Sunday Morning” and “Harder to Breathe” and “Not Coming Home.” Then I’ll go about my day, check out the new Dispatch album, probably blast some Run the Jewels or find a random Phish show and call it a day. I just think it’s best that way.

May 25, 2021 is the 25th anniversary of Sublime frontman Bradley Nowell’s death. This piece was originally written in 2013 but has since been updated. Optional music accompaniment can be found here. Up-strokes on the guitar, but not as slow as reggae and not as fast as ska. A bass line that had tinges of funk and hip hop in it. The bassist was usually the talented one. Drums held together by sixteen notes on the high hat and high-pitched snare drum hits. It’s the sound of Sublime. Or more specifically, The Sound of Sublime or That Sublime Sound or Sounds Like Sublime. You know what I’m talking about. Since a whole generation of musicians got turned on to the short-lived southern California band, you’ve had the pleasure of hearing that distinctive sound at clubs, patio bars, beach bars, frat houses, and skate parks. That sound, The Sound of Sublime, supplanted punk and then grunge as the go-to sound for young bands in the late ’90s and early 2000s. It was easy at first glance, easy enough to latch onto and make your own. Even though you really weren’t making it your own. You were making it your own in the way stealing someone’s lunch and putting your name on it makes it yours. It’s what bands do before they’ve found a sound of their own. No shame in it. It’s just how the game goes. You are your influences before your influences become your jumping-off point. I was in the trenches, out there among these bands, and was one of these bands when that Sublime sound became dominant and increasingly prevalent. The Nirvana-style three-piece had faded into the distance and now it was the Sublime-style three-piece. The sound, the mash-up of reggae, ska, and rock was similar to punk in longevity. Punk was a part of it if you were so inclined. Hip Hop was as well. The tent where it all lived was the upstrokes of the guitar and under that tent it all made sense. It didn’t all make music, but it all made sense. Back in 2013, 3 Ring Circus: Live at the Palace October 21, 1995, a Sublime live album, was released. The show took place seven months before lead singer and guitarist Bradley Nowell died of a heroin overdose and nine months before the release of the band’s breakthrough album, Sublime. The live album features at least two songs from Sublime (“Caress Me Down,” “Garden Grove”) and is much more cohesive and features significantly better sound quality than the band’s other live album, Stand By Your Van, which was released back in 1998. 3 Ring Circus was released to commemorate the 25th anniversary of the band’s first show which was on July 4, 1998. The album serves as a great reminder of who Sublime really was and where that sound of theirs, and subsequently the sound of thousands of other bands, came from. It’s pure, it’s loud and it’s fast. Bradley Nowell sang and played with a keen determination as if he was attempting to exorcise each and every one of his demons with every song. The album also brings up the Sublime Question again: what if Nowell hadn’t died when he did? In some ways, it’s a more complicated question than The Nirvana Question (i.e. what if Kurt Cobain hadn’t died when he did) because of how Sublime got popular after he had died whereas Nirvana was already massively popular when Cobain took his own life. Sublime started gaining momentum with their second album, 40oz to Freedom, which featured the first song I ever heard from them, “Date Rape.” But it was Sublime, with the better production and super catchy singles like “Santeria,” “What I Got,” and “Wrong Way” that really catapulted the band to stardom. I just don’t think we’ve ever seen anything like that before; a band getting so popular after they were essentially no longer a band. An album like 3 Ring Circus resonates with fans of the bands so much because Listening to it brings back so many thoughts and memories of the band and those related to the band. As a fan of music, Sublime will always be one of those bands I listen too and as a musician, Sublime was a huge influence on me, especially once I got serious about music when kicking around early incarnations of Sidecar Radio back in sunny Portland, Maine in 2002-03. I think so much of the appeal of playing music like Sublime’s comes down to the fact that statistically speaking, everyone loves reggae. However, those same studies show that reggae can sometimes get boring to play. Sublime breathed new life into reggae and at the same time, allowed a band to dabble in punk without having to look the part. You could dress like a normal dude and rage the fast parts with the best of them. And a lot of bands did. During my time with Sidecar Radio, we played with a lot of bands who embraced the Sound of Sublime, some of who did so much more closely than others and also some that were more successful than others. At the time it seemed completely normal to have that sound. But now, well over a decade later, it just seems unfathomable that a band with a career like Sublime’s has been able to have such a lasting legacy. When we talk about legacies in music- it’s always the heavyweights we talk about- Led Zeppelin, the Beatles, Nirvana, Bob Marley, etc. We don’t talk enough about Sublime and Sublime’s legacy and that seems wrong; it seems like we’re ignoring a very real trend that occurred in music for almost a decade. Instead of scoffing at Sublime or diminishing their accomplishments, shouldn’t we be talking about Sublime with more reverence, with more appreciation, and with more admiration for their apparent massive sphere of influence? I think we should. Yes, they were a crazy southern California party band and their songs could be the soundtracks to douche-paloozas everywhere, but Sublime was and is much more than that. Only paying attention to the negatives that come with them doesn’t seem fair, even if those negatives can be pretty damn annoying at times. The truth is that Sublime was a wildly influential band that created their own sound that was a catalyst for thousands and thousands of bands that hit the stage long after they were gone. Not many bands can say that and the ones that should deserve to be celebrated, whether you like them or not. Ryan loves the Boston Red Sox, New England Patriots, the Black Keys, the Roots, his family, The Wire & the writing of Dave Eggers although his last couple books have been “meh” at best. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. For more of his writing check out his website, GiddyUpAmerica.com

One of the ways to help survive quarantine (which is still kind of thing but not totally a thing like it was a few months ago) was finding little things to look forward to. Walks, TV shows, watching the sprinkler run. These were just a couple of the ways in which a person could at least temporarily escape the seemingly endless doldrums of the hum dumness of quarantine life. When the tools we have in our lives to mark the passing of time began to fade, we needed something to help get us through and some of those little things did the trick. For me, something I started to look forward to was trying new beers. This wasn’t about getting drunk or anything. It was more of a fun mission I found myself embarking on. This project never got to the level that some high-level beer drinkers get to; my palate couldn’t hang. But I did realize I like IPAs, so when it came time to make a liquor store run, I’d try and seek out a new IPA I hadn’t tried before. If quarantine was all about relying on the little things, this was it. So I started experimenting and trying new IPAs, although still steering clear of anything above 7% because I’m old. Anything higher than say, 6.8% scares me. Unfortunately, this did prove problematic because a lot of IPAS go past my self-posed line in the sand, making my options limited. I got by though, even if it meant going back to old favorites like Kane’s Head High when other options weren’t there. But then a new year came about and you know, I started to not feel great, not feel like my physical best self. It’s not that I was seriously overweight or dangerously out of shape. I just felt like I could afford to lose a few pounds, get down to a better and more manageable playing weight. One day I was at my parents, playing with my niece and daughter, and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and yeah, eh, not so great. So I made a decision to change things up. It wouldn’t be drastic or anything, but I decided to make a few tweaks to how I was going about my business, doing things like alternating between yogurt and cereal for breakfast, cutting down on snacking, being smarter about lunch, opting for a side salad instead of fries, and generally steering clear of junk food unless it was ice cream because like my man Joe Biden, I can’t say no to ice cream. I swear, not getting ice cream when you take your kid to get ice cream might be one of the hardest things about being a parent. Another component to my plan to change things up was tackling my beer consumption and figuring out how I could still enjoy a beer or two at night without bringing along all the baggage that comes with it (i.e. the calories and carbs.) I’m sorry. I have two kids, there’s a pandemic and quarantine, and The Bachelor. I’m not going to not drink during the week. Not happening. But, I could try and drink smarter. So first I tried light beers, specifically Yuengling Light. I like regular Yuengling and thought it would be fine. It was not. Yuengling Light is not fine. It’s okay, suitable if you’re in a pinch but overall, not great. Yuengling Light was off the table. There are still a couple in my basement if you want ’em. I then decided to do some research and see what options were out there for low-calorie beers. Surely there had to be some beyond just light beers. Please. Yeah, there are. Actually, low-calorie beers are kind of thing now, a trend that started back at the beginning of 2020 apparently. And to make this news even better, a lot of these low-calorie options were IPAs. They are low on calories, low on carbs, and typically clocked in under 4% ABV. A rare win/win/win if there ever was one. Over the past few weeks, I have made it a point to explore what options the low-calorie market had out there. I still dabbled in regular beers, but this new life of mine was all about finding a balance. So if I got a four-pack of something from a local brewery, I also got something that was low-calorie. Balance, baby. Right now, the winners in the clubhouse come from the good folks at Dogfish Head and Lagunitas, a little something from the west coast and something from over here on the east coast. Dogfish Head, which makes the fantastic 90 minute IPA, has Slightly Mighty, an IPA with only 95 calories, 3.6g carbs, 1g protein, and 0g fat per 12oz serving. Instead of sugar, they use Chinese Monkfish to act as a sweetener, a move that helps cut down on calories. It’s a little bitter, a little sweet, a little tropical and a little delicious. Then there’s Lagunitas, based out of California, who routinely offer up several great options. Lagunitas has the Day Time IPA, which has 3 grams of carbs, 98 Calories per 12 oz, and an ABV of 4%. It still hits like a heavier Lagunitas but it doesn’t pack the weighted punch the others do. Besides being the best of the bunch, those two also seem to be the most readily available, at least where I’m at in the world. Big fan of accessibility over here. The next tier consists of Long Trails’ Little Anomaly IPA (110 calories, 3.8% ABV,) Rec League by Harpoon (120 calories, 4% ABV,) Victory’s Easy Ringer (96 calories, 4.3% ABV,) and Bell’s Light Hearted Ale (110 calories, 3.7% ABV.) If this were all about can art, Light Hearted Ale would be leading this race by a landslide: “We recognized that there was an opportunity to give beer lovers–Two Hearted fans or not–an option that had everything they were looking for: lower calories, a lower ABV and all of the deliciousness that is Two Hearted,” Bells’ Communication Manager Josh Smith said last year. He didn’t have anything to add about that can art but he probably should have. It’s sweet. In November of 2020, Bells’ Light Hearted Ale topped Untapped’s list of the best low-cal ales that won’t ruin your health and fitness goals. The list also included Rec League, Easy Ringer, and Slightly Mighty. Guinness was also on there. A little something for the traditionalists out there, I suppose. I like Guinness but generally only mess around with it on and around St. Patrick’s Day. There’s something about drinking Guinness when the temperature is above 50 degrees that doesn’t make sense to me. Another helpful list of good low-calorie beers is this one from Delish. And as we head into the summer months, these low-calorie IPAs seem perfectly suited for some daytime summer drinking, which is an added bonus. They’re not a substitute for those beautiful summer ales by any means. But as a companion, they’re remarkably well-suited, especially Slightly Mighty, which almost feels like a summer ale given the lightness of it. I love summer beers but I’m also a big fan of this new system I have, so it’s nice knowing I don’t have to abandon this plan of mine for summer. I mean, if any part of the plan is going to get ditched anytime soon, it’ll be the yogurt part. Let’s not kid ourselves. Yogurt is lame. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a walk around the block because its after lunch and in quarantine, after lunch, we go for walks. If you’ve found any good low-calorie beers I should check out, give me a holler on Twitter. Ryan O’Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. Ryan loves the Boston Red Sox, New England Patriots, the Black Keys, the Roots, his family, The Wire & the writing of Dave Eggers although his last couple books have been “meh” at best. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. Check out his site GiddyUpAmerica.com

As we sit here, ten years removed from the premiere of Game of Thrones and nearly two years since the show ended, it’s easy to think back to the show and the massive set pieces and battles, shocking deaths, and breath-taking episodes. The big stuff is largely what separated Game of Thrones from everything else on television. The show just felt so enormous, certainly more massive than anything you’d have expected to see on television and anything we had seen up until that point. To this day, “Blackwater,” the penultimate episode of the show’s second season remains the most in awe I’ve ever been watching a television show. The scale of the Battle of Blackwater Bay was akin to something you’d seen on the big screen, not your own small screen, from the comfort of your own home. I don’t care how big some of these new flatscreen televisions may be, there wasn’t a television screen out there prepared for what that episode entailed. From that point on, the show would continue to double down, especially when it came to battles. Almost every season from season two on had one or if not, a moment that rivaled it in terms of the emotional impact. For better or worse, with Game of Thrones we expected the grandiose and as the ten-year-anniversary of the premiere rolls around, it’s the grandiose that is so easily remembered. But in between the battles and gasp-inducing deaths were the things that really made Game of Thrones so good, the little moments. For a show that operated on such a massive scale, it excelled at also capturing little moments between characters, usually right before things got cranked up a notch. The fireworks Game of Thrones provided were always a main-takeaway, but more often than not, the calm before the storm moments was the stuff that got you at the time. And that’s what I want to focus on amidst the celebration of the show’s Iron Anniversary, the ten best moments from the show. Of course, limiting myself to ten means that some classic Thrones’ moments aren’t making the cut, moments like when Jon and the Wildlings climbed the wall or when Tyrion killed his father Tywin, when it appeared Theon had murdered Bran and Rickon or when Jon watched Yrgitte get killed. It wouldn’t be anything related to Game of Thrones without something unfortunate happening, though. Them’s the breaks in Westeros. 10. When the Mountain swiped Oberyn’s leg during their fight Episode: “The Mountain and the Viper” (S4, E8) Oh, Oberyn Martell, we hardly knew you. The Dornish Prince arrived into Westeros at the start of the show’s fourth season in the wake of The Red Wedding and Tywin Lannister having eliminated the Robb Stark-led threat from the North. For the Lannisters, things were pretty good, although this Oberyn fella was a bit too much of a wild card for their liking and seemed destined to cause a problem for them, which he eventually did, stepping in to be Tyrion’s champion when Tyrion chose trial by combat for his role in Joffrey’s murder. And it looked like Oberyn might actually pull off something of an upset against Cersei’s champion, the Mountain, the man responsible for the murder of Oberyn’s sister. But our dude got cocky and started celebrating at the five-yard line. A rookie mistake and when he wasn’t looking, the Mountain made him pay, first with his eyes and then with his skull. Oberyn’s death was a tough watch. Someone crushing another person’s head will do that. But there was something about his death that twisted stomachs and stuck with you. Here was a new character, a breath of fresh air and a possible replacement for the main foe of the Lannisters, someone who could maybe take them down and just like that, he was gone. If anything, it’s our fault for getting attached. At that point, we should have known better. 9. When Jon watched Rickon die before the Battle of the Bastards Episode: “Battle of the Basterds” (S6, E9) So, if our first life lesson is not to celebrate too early, our second lesson is that you never run away from a deranged psychopath in a straight line. You gotta zig zag, be a little elusive because there’s a good chance the deranged psychopath in question might start shooting arrows at you and if you’re running in a straight line, you are making it super easy on them. Did you catch all that, Rickon? God, man. Of course Rickon took a lethal arrow to the back and of course Jon felt compelled to throw his well-crafted plan out the window and charge Ramsey and his large army all by lonesome. Very on-brand for Jon. But it was a little surprising because since his resurrection, Jon had seemed like a man on a mission, someone possibly not so prone to bouts of emotion-led acts of foolishness. Going into the battle with Ramsey for Winterfell, it was clear Ramsey had the numbers and the advantage. Jon and his squad needed to play it perfectly and that all started with being patient. Yet then Rickon died and all that went to shit. Jon Snow 2.0 out there still making Jon Snow 1.0 mistakes. 8. When Littlefinger realized he was the one about to get got Episode: “The Dragon and the Wolf” (S7, E7) Season seven was supposed to be fun because finally, after so much time apart, the Stark children would be reunited. Well, except for Rickon. Can you imagine what Arya must have thought when she heard about the whole running in a straight line thing? But the good times didn’t really last that long, especially when it came to Sansa and Arya. Granted they had never been close, but you would have thought that some time apart and the experiences and hardships each had endured during that time would have brought them together. Not so much, though. Sansa was trying her best in a management position she was learning how to do on the fly and Arya was giving off major just-got-home-from-a-semester-abroad-and-now-I-know-things vibes and the two clashed. It got awkward and you know, it was a bummer because damn it we had waited to so long for any kind of Stark reunion. To have it sour so quickly almost didn’t seem fair and then for Sansa to turn on Arya? Shit. Come on now. But surprise, Sansa and Arya fooled you, fooled me and most importantly, fooled Littlefinger, who after seven seasons of being a devious son of a bitch in the shadows, finally reached the end of the road. The look on his face when he realized it was him on trial and not Arya, ooooh, that shit was delicious. 7. When Margaery realizes Cersei is up to something by not showing up to her trial Episode: “The Winds of Winter” (S6, E10) Margaery Tyrell, like Oberyn, was a welcome addition to the show and while she stayed around longer than the Dornish prince, it still wasn’t long enough for my liking. But you know, Margaery was too good for us and definitely too good for Westeros. As season six wound down, the religious fanatics, the Sparrows, had captured the hearts and minds of Westeros and were set to hold a trial for Cersei. The charge? Living her life, I guess. And the trial was a who’s who of the Westerosi elite. Everyone and their uncle was there. Except for Cersei. And while the High Sparrow didn’t seem to see the problem with this, Margaery did and tried her best to convince the leader of the Sparrows that something was afoot and they needed to get the hell out of there. Naturally he ignored her pleas to bail and doubled down, barring anyone from leaving. Then they all died. Except for Cersei. Margaery was a worthy adversary for Cersei but in the end, Cersei downs threats, both real and imagined, like some top shelf Dornish red wine. 6. When Tormund learns that Brienne is not a knight Episode: “A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms” (S8, S2) It takes outsiders living outside of an established system to more often than not be the ones to correctly point out the faults of said system. In this case, it was Tormund ready to question some Westerosi bullshit like why the gals can’t be knights, especially when the woman in question is none other than Brienne of Tarth. Brienne getting knighted by Jaime on the eve of the throw down with the White Walkers was definitely one of the high points of a flawed season eight and one of the most touching moments of the entire series, but in rewatching it, Tormund’s reaction to learning that Brienne wasn’t a knight really stuck out to me. Because yeah, why the hell Brienne wouldn’t be a knight? Brienne was bad ass and a better fighter than the majority of dudes rolling around Westeros calling themselves knights. But she couldn’t be one because of BS gender roles? Get out of here with that nonsense. It was wonderful that Jaime did what he did but not-so wonderful that it took so long and a quiet moment before certain death for it to happen. 5. When the Nights Watch Rangers find the bodies left behind by the White Walkers Episode: “Winter is Coming” (S1, E1) Silly me. Heading into the show’s seventh season, I was adamant that the only thing that truly mattered on Game of Thrones was the inevitable clash with the White Walkers. I felt that all the backstabbing and quibbles happening amongst the living would eventually be pushed aside in the face of a common enemy, effin’ ice zombies. Now, my main reason for this kind of thinking went all the back to the show’s very first episode and how that episode began. It didn’t begin with Starks or Lannisters or dragons. It began with three members of the Nights Watch out for a jaunt north of the wall and hello, they run into a Wight and some meticulously placed dead bodies. That’s what the showrunners felt was the best way to start the entire series. That had to mean something right? The showrunners definitely had a plan and knew what they were doing right? Ugh, maybe skip that second question. But whatever. I felt very strongly about this because the prologue to “Winter is Coming” had such a distinct vibe and feel to it. Plus, over the course of the next couple seasons, amidst all the human shenanigans, the show would remind us not to sleep on the threat from the north. They kept dropping hints and the hints seemed important and damn it, I fell for it. Oh well, this is a great way to introduce a show, regardless of the overall meaning of the whole thing. 4. When Daenerys pulls a fast one on the slaver when purchasing The Unsullied Episode: “And Now His Watch Has Ended” (S3, E4) We learned that Daenerys wasn’t to be trifled with from the early going and throughout the show’s first two seasons, we continued to be given examples of this being the case. Overlook her or underestimate her and she’d make you pay. The girl walked into a burning fire and walked out with three baby dragons. She’s not messing around, guys. Danys came to play. I feel that Danys reputation as bad motherf**ker was cemented four episodes into season three when she acquired The Unsullied. It definitely seemed like she was going to be giving up one of her dragons to get the highly touted army and for arm chair experts like myself, that seemed like a steep cost, regardless of how amazing the army might be. It’s a dragon. You’d probably want to hold onto those. And then she did! And in the process, she pulled a fast one on the asshole slaver selling her The Unsullied and it was one of the most satisfying deaths in all of Game of Thrones. Eff that guy, am I right. After that happened, there was no denying the force of Danys. 3. When Cat Stark sees Roose Bolton’s armor and gets wise to what’s happening at The Twins Episode: “The Rains of Castamere” (S3, E9) Where were you when The Red Wedding? Oh, that’s easy. IN A STATE OF SHOCK thank you very much. You know who wasn’t? Catelyn Stark. She got wise to the whole thing before poor Robb did and while that didn’t really do a damn thing, we still award her five bonus points and she gets extra time at recess. Catelyn sensing something was up and making eye contact with Roose and then confirming that treachery was coming in hot is one of those things that benefits from a second viewing because in the moment, it’s all happening so fast and everything becomes so dark and ominous, it gets overlooked. Another life lesson? Just listen to your mom. She knows what’s up. Cat knew Walder Frey was going to be salty about Robb reneging on his agreement to marry one of his daughters and that no amount of talk would cool him down. Walder Frey doesn’t get cooled down. Walder Frey lures you into his home and murders you under the guise of a celebratory feast. I bet that when Cat and Robb met up in the afterlife, the first twenty minutes they spent together consisted of her just looking at him and Robb pleading with her to stop, telling her that ‘yes, she was right and he was wrong.’ It’s okay, Robb. We’ve all been there. I mean, not to that extent but yes, we’ve all been there. 2. When the dogs start barking at Hardhomme Episode: “Hardhomme” (S5, E8) The massacre at Hardhomme is my favorite battle in Game of Thrones. God, I love it. It’s also probably the episode I think about and want to rewatch the most because that last twenty minutes or so is amazing. It’s creepy, it’s foreboding. It’s like a horror/action movie and you can’t take your eyes off of it. And it all starts when the dogs begin barking. Everything seems fine, like it’s pretty much all going to plan. Yes, Jon would have liked more Wildlings to take him up on his offer to come south of the Wall, but beggers can’t be chooses and as Tormund points out, when the food runs out, they’ll change their mind. That one woman says goodbye to her daughters, says she’ll be right behind them and of course that seems like a major red flag in hindsight but at the time it didn’t. It just seemed like something that character would say in that moment. And then the dogs start barking. Then the wind seems to shift and ooohh that feeling that shit is about to get a little crazy starts creeping its way up your spine. ” Close the gates!” And that always sucks because without fail, someone just misses getting through the gates before they close and then everything goes quiet. “Hardhomme” was Game of Thrones reminding you that they’re not effin’ around and when they need to, they can blast a 500 foot homerun or break off a 80 yard run. Oh and the way the Night King looked at Jon and when he raised the dead and was like, guess what assholes, I have a bigger army now… Damn it, I love that episode. 1.When Daenerys sets sail for Westeros Episode: “The Winds of Winter” (S6, E10) Finally. No, really. Finally. After six seasons of trudging through deserts, being captured, being captured again, escaping death, vanquishing foes, sniffing out traitors, raising dragon babies and more, Daenerys was finally headed to Westeros. The show, which had always been massive in scale and scope was going to start contracting and coming together. Plots would begin to merge and an endgame was in sight. It was all very exciting. The Danys stuff had started to become almost its own show, albeit a great show, but still, one that was removed from everything else happening on Game of Thrones. It was fun while it lasted but it was time to get everyone in the same room and get down to business. Was this the last truly exciting moment in Game of Thrones? Yeah, maybe. Ones that would follow have a case but they are also hampered by context and surrounding events. Danys setting sail to Westeros has a purity the other moments don’t. Anything and everything seemed possible at that point. The potential of Game of Thrones was off the charts and nothing could get in their way. Well, except for themselves. But that’s for another time.

Batman entered our lives all the way back in May of 1939, created in response to the overwhelming popularity of Superman, who came around a year earlier. Since then, we’ve born witness to several different versions of the Caped Crusader, whether it’s in print, on the small screen either in live-action or as a cartoon, and on the big screen. The first Batman movie came out in 1943 with a plot that revolved around Batman acting as a government agent, helping to stop World War II. Twenty-odd years later, came the television show with Adam West playing Bruce Wayne/Batman. The Adam West era seems like it lasted for a while but in actuality, it ran from 1966-1968 and included the series as well as a movie both of which spawned endless jokes and references to the show’s dialogue, catchphrases, and the use of on-screen graphics. Then things got kind of quiet outside of the comics but as far as Batman movies go, everything changed with the release of Tim Burton’s 1989 movie, Batman. I might have seen that in theaters three, maybe four times, and remember drawing Batman logos on chalkboards when my fourth-grade teacher wasn’t looking. Fast forward all these years and I certainly wouldn’t say I’m obsessed with Batman, but I’m definitely a fan. That fandom was kick-started with that movie. As for the movies that immediately followed, I’m on board with Batman Returns (it’s become a solid rewatchable) and decidedly off the board with the next two films- Batman Forever and Batman and Robin. It took seven years for the stink of Batman and Robin to wear off. That was the year Christopher Nolan took the helm of the franchise and proceeded to drop the Dark Knight Trilogy: Batman Begins, The Dark Knight, and The Dark Knight Rises, all three with Christian Bale as Batman/Bruce Wayne. Next to the 1989 Batman, they’re the Catwoman’s pajamas of Batman movies. Two years after The Dark Knight Rises, Batman appeared in Lego form in the Lego Movie, an appearance that paved the way for The Lego Batman Movie in 2017. Sandwiched in between those two movies was Ben Affleck’s turn as Batman in Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, and then again in 2017 in Justice League. I think the less said about that movie the better. But wait, fast forward a couple years to 2021 and there’s the long-awaited Snyder Cut, Zack Snyder’s vision for the movie that he was unable to see through because of a family tragedy. The movie isn’t a perfect second take of Justice League but it’s at least better than the original and one of the winners of the redone film is Batfleck. He’s more fleshed out and developed than he had been in the past two films and it helps. But don’t get attached because that is reportedly the last we’ll see of Affleck as Batman. Although at the same time, fear not because another Batman is coming in hot, this one played by Robert Pattinson in The Batman, which is set to be released sometime next year. Pattinson’s not eligible here but everything else is fair game. Atomic batteries to power…turbines to speed…on to the rankings! The Movies 1. Batman (1989) The grand pupa of Batman movies. Without it, would the Nolan movies even exist? Tim Burton re-established a new tone for Batman, one with decidedly less camp and color and significantly more doom and gloom. No dancing here. Just straight brooding. I just remember that movie being so incredibly huge and even now all of these years later, I watch it and I’m all in. I love the visual style of it. It seems to take place in a mish-mash of time periods- ranging from the 1940s to 1970s. I didn’t have any opinions about Michael Keaton as Batman at the time, but now I can see that his casting was probably a little jarring. But in 1989 I was too young to know any better. He was awesome. Thumbs up perfect. I don’t think this movie will ever get old. 2. The Dark Knight The second Christopher Nolan-directed Batman movie is by far the best of the Nolan trilogy. It feels like Heat meets your traditional Batman movie. It moves in a way most blockbusters, especially comic book blockbusters, don’t. Heath Ledger makes this movie, though. His performance is at a Daniel Day-Lewis level in that it completely dominates the movie. When he’s not on the screen, you’re just waiting for him to come back. If the 1989 Batman felt huge, then this movie felt gigantic. It still feels gigantic, as if it were able to crush movies like The Green Lantern with its thumb. Broken into acts like a Shakespearean play, if The Dark Knight is on television, there is a damn good chance I’m watching at least thirty minutes of it. At least. Probably more. 3. Batman Begins The 1989 Batman didn’t bother with any kind of origin story- it just started. Oddly enough, that’s kind of a Nolan move. Batman Begins spends the first half of the movie digging into the origin of this particular Batman and it pays off- not just in this one, but the two that followed. It made you infinitely more invested in this version of Bruce Wayne/Batman. It doesn’t add a well-known villain, going with Scarecrow instead and then Ra’s al Ghul but the film is better off for it. It lays out the groundwork for what’s to come and it does so flawlessly. 4. Batman Returns A sequel to Batman felt almost too good to be true. It’s not as memorable as the first one, but it’s still good. And we’ll never look at penguins the same way again. It hasn’t aged as well as the first one, but that’s to be expected. I think as the years have gone we’ve underrated Michelle Pheiffer’s portrayal as Catwoman. Also, don’t let clowns babysit your children. 5. Dark Knight Rises The summer the Dark Knight Rises came out I got married, bought a house, and got a new job. Seeing this movie was easily the fourth most exciting thing I experienced that summer. It was akin to seeing a statue unveiled or taking in a sunset while swimming in the Pacific Ocean- just a truly momentous event. Unfortunately though, once the shine wore off, the cracks started to show. Because really, what was going on again? Bruce Wayne is now broke? And then physically broke, but then all better thanks to some pushups and pep talks? And he goes from a pit in the Middle East to Gotham in no time. With an empty bank account mind you! Whatever. Questions about anything as big and highly anticipated as Dark Knight Rises will always exist. Either way, I appreciate the third Nolan Batman movie because of its scale and scope; similar to how I love big rock ‘n roll albums. I love when artists just effin’ go for it and with Dark Knight Rises, Nolan went for it. 6. Batman (1966) Props where props are due. It’s not the best Batman movie out there, but it’s the granddaddy of them. That’s worth something. 7. Batman Forever Michael Keaton bailed, so enter Val Kilmer. Val Kilmer? Yeah. Also, Tim Burton exited stage left, resulting in Joel Schumacher entering stage right. And then Robin shows up and all the doom and gloom is replaced by enough LED lights to rival an EDM show shot through an industrial-sized leaf blower. In a pile of dung, Jim Carrey as the Riddler perhaps comes out the cleanest. Although that’s not saying much. 8. Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice Dear God this movie is bad. Like, so bad. So incredibly bad. It’s so bad that even hate-watching it is out of the question. Are there any positives that can be taken away, any at all? (thinks for a moment) Yeah, no. None. 9. Batman and Robin Val Kilmer bailed. Enter George Clooney. GEORGE CLOONEY? And Bat Girl? I don’t know if I’ve ever even finished this effin’ movie. Batman 1. Christian Bale He narrowly edges out Keaton. Why? Well, I’m not entirely sure why. I just think he was really good and did a great job. Bale was also slightly more believable as Batman. I could barely understand a damn word he said when playing Batman, though. Enunciate damn it! How are you supposed to strike fear in the heart of the criminal element if they can’t understand what you’re saying? 2. Michael Keaton The people’s Batman. A Batman we could all relate to. Not the strongest, just the smartest. Batman is a smart dude. Michael Keaton looks like a smart dude. I think it was an inspired choice. 3. Adam West The O.G., so we give credit where credit is due, just like we gave the original Batman movie props where props are due. 4. Ben Affleck The movies he was in were certainly terrible with The Snyder Cut being the exception but Affleck’s Batman wasn’t horrible. I kind of liked his older, grizzled version of Batman. I would have gladly watched a stand-alone Batfleck movie or two (something that SHOULD HAVE HAPPENED before Justice League by the way.) 5. Legos Hey, we can’t leave out Lego Batman. And yes, he’s better than two other Batmen. 6. Val Kilmer Awesome as Jim Morrison, not awesome as Batman. Such is life. 7. George Clooney The fact that Clooney’s turn as Batman didn’t completely torpedo his career is most likely a testament to his unstoppable charm and charisma than anything else. Batman might not be a superhero per se, but Clooney might be one for being able to not let this gig drag him down. Batmobiles 1. The One from Batman (1989) Always my favorite. It’s not the most practical one for city-livin’ and city-drivin’, but if we’ve learned anything these past years, it’s that Batman doesn’t do practical. 2. The One from Batman (1966) Seeing as how this Batmobile seemed to most likely roam the California countryside, a convertible makes complete sense. But when it rains? Well, that’s no good. The scenes where Batman tells Commissioner Gordon that sorry, they can’t save Gotham today due to inclement weather are notoriously absent from The West Era. 3. The One from the Dark Knight Trilogy No side mirrors seem like a kind of liability. 4. The One Batfleck Drove It’s got the tank vibe from the Nolan movies, but the length of the Burton movies. Thankfully, it has absolutely nothing from the Schumacher movies. 5. The One from the Schumacher movies I knew this guy in college who installed black lights and flashing LED lights inside his car. I thought that was stupid. I think this version of the Batmobile is just as stupid. Let’s just save the black lights for the stoner college kids and the LED lights for the raver college kids, huh? Villains 1. The Joker (The Dark Knight) The Joker was never legitimately terrifying until this version of the Joker came along (and then Joaquin Phoenix took that up to 11.) A completely different Joker than the one in the 1989 Batman, Ledger’s Joker was more maniacal, more sadistic. Ledger’s Oscar for Best Supporting Actor has to go down as one of the most satisfying and deserved in recent years. 2. The Joker (Batman – 1989) This version of the Joker is slightly more traditional, more on par with what we had thought the Joker was. Which Joker is better in your opinion, Nicholson’s or Ledger’s most likely comes down to personal preference. There’s really no right or wrong answer. Just kidding. There is a wrong answer. It’s Nicholson’s. I still love Nicholson’s Joker but it’s not better than Ledger’s. Nicholson’s Joker is like the Red Sox 2007 World Series title. A great achievement, but in the long run, completely overshadowed by the 2013 Championship. 3. Penguin (Batman Returns) Creepy, scary, unpredictable. Even the backstory they show for him is amazing. Probably the most underrated Batman movie villain. 4. Bane (The Dark Knight Rises) Who cares if you could only understand half of what he said, he was a beast. Literally. Big shoes to fill, following in Heath Ledger’s clown shoe footprints, but Bane gets the job done. He was just a totally menacing dude. 5. Ra’s al Ghul (Batman Begins) Who? Oh yeah, Liam Neeson’s angry kung fu master from the Himalayas. First place for facial hair. 6. Catwoman (Batman Returns) Is she really a villain? Kind of, but tough to say. We’ll give it a maybe. But we’ll also give her a thumbs up. 7. Scarecrow (Batman Begins) Definitely not the main villain in Batman Begins, but still an important one. He plays the fringe role well, but would not be welcome at your next hippie festival. 8. Riddler (Batman Forever) Uh…he wasn’t terrible. 9. Two-Face (Batman Forever) Uh…he wasn’t half bad? (cue: rimshot) 10. Poison Ivy (Batman and Robin) Uh…better than Mr. Freeze. 11. Mr. Freeze (Batman and Robin) Uh…I don’t want to sound cold here but… The Miscellaneous 1. Bob the Goon (Batman – 1989) Bob didn’t say much and he didn’t have to. Gunslinger, sidekick, amateur photographer, the eventual fall guy. There wasn’t much this guy couldn’t do. 2. The First Five Minutes of The Dark Knight How do you make a massively eagerly anticipated movie that much more exciting? By ditching the formalities and getting right into it. To hell with table-setting and the like, Nolan starts his movies as soon as the lights in the theater dim. I love the beginning of The Dark Knight every single time I see it. Nolan tried a similar thing in The Dark Knight Rises, but it wasn’t nearly as cool. But that’s no dig on Nolan. There was no way he was going to have a better opening than he put together for The Dark Knight. 3. Kim Basinger as Vicki Vale (Batman – 1989) One of the big differences between the first run of Batman movies and the Nolan movies is a Bruce Wayne love interest. The 1989 Batman, Batman Returns, Batman Forever, Batman and Robin– they all had one. Vicki Vale was the trailblazer though and rocked the shit out of a beret, which is admittedly hard to do. 4. The Two-Face CGI (The Dark Knight) He doesn’t come into play until the movie’s third act and by then, Two-Face is a role player, ultimately a pawn in the Joker’s incredibly elaborate plan. But that’s not the story. The CGI job is the story. It’s effin’ the real deal, man. It puts the hatchet job they gave Tommy Lee Jones in Batman Forever to shame. 5. The Roof Top Scene (Batman – 1989) There’s a right way and a wrong way to introduce Batman. This is the right way. Nice kicks, too. 6. The Batman Warehouse Fight Scene (Batman v Superman) I actually wasn’t even sure why Batman was in this warehouse but at the same time, eh, whatever. It’s pretty bad ass. 7. Anne Hathaway as Catwoman (The Dark Knight Rises) Catwoman always seems to straddle the line between good and bad, whether it’s the comics or on screen. Hathaway’s Catwoman is no exception. Overall I’m neither a Hathaway fan nor a hater, but I thought she did a great job. I think that gal might have a future in cinema. 8. The Batwing (Batman – 1989) Limited screen time, didn’t matter! The Batwing looked cool as hell in Batman. But here’s the thing, did Bruce Wayne build that himself? I mean, I’m not going to tell you how to keep your identity a secret Bruce, but a contractor is going to remember building a plane shaped like a bat- especially when said plane is being piloted by an increasingly famous Batman. Christopher Nolan definitely gets points for providing a back story for all of Batman’s toys. Also, the Batwing gets dropped by one shot from the Joker’s gun. Looks are great and all, but you can’t sleep on functionality. 9. Batman’s First Appearance in The Dark Knight Rises Again, there’s a right way and a wrong way when introducing Batman. This is once again the right way. 10. The Joker’s Gun (Batman – 1989) Never mind trying to figure out what kind of gun manufacture would even make such a thing, it took down the Batwing with one shot. Regardless of your thoughts on guns, that’s pretty impressive. Note: guns suck. 11. The Gotham City of Batman (1989) My favorite Gotham City- dark, dirty, depressing. Photos: Warner Bros Ryan O’Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. Ryan has contributed to: BroBible.com Heavy.com and UPROXX.com In short order, Ryan loves the Boston Red Sox, New England Patriots, the Black Keys, the Roots, his family, The Wire & the writing of Dave Eggers although his last couple books have been “meh” at best. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. For more of his work, go to GiddyUpAmerica.com

You need to be able to admit when you’re wrong in this life of ours. Own your mistakes, kid. One of my biggest pet peeves is when people don’t do this, when they duck, dodge, and dive the things they’ve done and the statements they’ve made. Come on now. That’s bush league. I am, therefore, here to admit that after watching Zack Synder’s Justice League, I was wrong. In a BroBible piece that went up before the release of the movie, I said that essentially, fans should prepare for the worst. The movie was destined to be bad largely because the other movies that Snyder had done with DC characters were also bad. Or in the case of Batman v Superman, God awful. There wasn’t much in terms of evidence that given the time and resources to flush out his vision for Justice League, the end result would be good. Better than the Justice League that came out? Sure. But that’s not saying very much. That’s such a low bar that it’s a tripping hazard. But after watching all four-plus hours of this new Justice League (it took four days,) I can say that I was wrong and overall, it wasn’t that bad. I’m not saying it was amazing or even good. No. I think it was fine. At times it was cool and at times it was pretty good. But there were also a few eye-roll-inducing moments and with all due respect to the lovely and talented Amy Adams, there were way more sad Lois Lane scenes than were needed. The fact that I fast-forwarded through all of them is making me question my level of empathy, something I had never really questioned before. Am I not as compassionate as I thought? Damn it, Zack Snyder. Now you’re just messing with my emotions and probably not in the way that was intended. So the Snyder Cut wasn’t bad. That is where I can admit I was wrong. However, where I will not do such a thing is when it comes to my main point of the aforementioned piece and that is regardless of who was directing Justice League, the larger problem was that DC hadn’t put in the work required to get to the point of doing Justice League. They did the one Superman movie, then the Batman/Superman movie, and then bam, Justice League. They took the bird out of the oven before it was done, plopped it down in the middle of the table and said “have at it, everyone.” Because of that, they had to not only have the team get together, but introduce the bulk of the team. And then save the world. That’s a lot of things that need to happen in a movie, which is why Snyder’s version ended up being four hours. If they had done it the right way (i.e. the Marvel way,) this could have all been so much easier. As I outlined in the BroBible piece: I stand by this and if anything, my feelings about this have only been cemented after watching the movie. The Snyder Cut was over four hours long and that would be fine if it was necessary. The Irishmanwas that long but that actually made sense given the scope of the story they were looking to tell. But in the case of Zack Snyder’s Justice League, it just wasn’t. Snyder and the DC folks rushed things and that right there is the main problem with Justice League. Just think how beneficial it would have been if they had developed this new version of Batman more or introduced Cyborg and/or Flash prior to dropping them into the Justice League. They would have saved time in Justice League and been able to devote more time to the battle with Steppenwolf or hey, even given Darkseid more than ten minutes of screen time. I know, crazy, right? But like I said, overall, it wasn’t bad. I can’t say I’m aching to watch it again but all in all, I’m glad I did. There’s a lot of chatter about Cyborg being the big winner of this new version and while I can’t argue with that, I would counter by saying I think Batman is at least in the running. It’s hard to say why exactly, but Ben Affleck was just better in this version. Maybe it’s just being familiar with his Batman and there being some time removed from the last Batman (the Christian Bale one,) but his Batman made sense, which is not something I would have said before this. A couple other thoughts: Is Aquaman just leaving clothes all over the place, strewn about various beaches around the world? That doesn’t seem super responsible, not to mention expensive in the long run. And speaking of Aquaman’s clothes, what’s up with this move? That sweater can’t swell good, darling. My guess is it smells like a potentially lethal combination of cheap booze and wet dog. Yuck. No thank you. I don’t care how valuable he is to your village’s survival, hard pass on smelling the dude’s sweater as he swims away. Maybe just toss it in a bag and save it for the next time he comes. Last Aquaman note: Zack Snyder definitely has a certain musical taste when it comes to these movies but ditching the White Stripes for this scene is criminal. It fits so well! Not everything in the movie needs to sound like a goth-inspired gospel choir practicing in a dark, damp basement. Just saying. Steppenwolf in this version of Justice League was definitely an improvement but you know, remember the “Health Care” episode of The Office, where Michael tasked Dwight with picking a new health care plan because he didn’t want to, knowing that if Dwight failed, he could blame him but if Dwight succeeded, then he wouldn’t have to worry about it? Steppenwolf’s whole deal, how he was driven by redemption and trying to get back on Darkseid’s good uh…seid, reminded me of that. I got strong Dwight Schrute vibes with Steppenwolf here and that includes his desire to rule the world. If you’re going to make a four-hour-plus movie, at least give me an idea where Century City is in relation to Gotham. I never realized that Metropolis was essentially across the river from Gotham (is that true, though) so I had assumed Century City was the next town over. But Bruce Wayne had to fly there so that doesn’t seem to be the case. God, why all the unanswered questions, Zack Snyder? I’m not going to touch the last thirty minutes but I will say this, endings are like starting quarterbacks in the NFL. If you have more than one then you don’t have any. Ryan O’Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. Ryan has contributed to: BroBible.com, Heavy.com, and UPROXX.com His work has also appeared in several print publications with some clips being found here.

For me personally, quarantine began on St. Patrick’s Day 2020. I remember because I spent the day teaching our daughter how to draw leprechauns and unless I’m mistaken, I’m hard-pressed to think of another reason why I would be teaching a four-year-old how to draw leprechauns. Well, I guess if we were big Notre Dame fans but no, that is not the case. So it was St. Patrick’s Day and now it’s almost another St. Patrick’s Day and this has lasted a year. The four-year-old is now a five-year-old and there’s also a six-month-old kicking around the house. Our dog first enjoyed us being around so much, but now I think she’s kind of over it and headphones have become my best friend. They’re probably the dogs as well. She’s not as into Soundgarden at an extremely loud volume as I am. Her loss. But all of this is most likely not exclusive to my quarantine experience and for the most part, I would assume plenty of other people have similar tales and anecdotes. Well, except for young people who live alone or maybe with a significant other. The idea of living this quarantine life sans children is still beyond me and I don’t think I’ll ever fully be able to understand it. There are definitely days where such a life seems too good to be true and there are also days where I may or may not pine for such a life. Of course, there are days where I’m good with how things are currently constructed around these parts but where is the fun in that. The grass is always greener, especially amidst a pandemic. With the one-year anniversary of quarantine life coming up, I, like a lot of people are looking back and taking stock of everything that has transpired over the past year. Or at least I’d like to be doing that. Unfortunately, I’m distracted by something far more pressing, something incredibly more serious. My board shorts are starting to fall apart. Stop, this is important. These aren’t just any board shorts, my friend. These are the board shorts I have worn EVERY DAY since quarantine life started. And they are starting to rip, starting to show signs that the end is near and I’m sorry but it’s very sad. Once these babies go, I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t even want to think about it. Of course, I have, but I don’t want to. It’s too painful. These board shorts of mine, they’re lime green and white. On the left leg, it says “Rip Curl” in black lettering. They’re probably a couple of years old, so it’s not as if quarantine life did this on its own, but it definitely played a part. Early on in quarantine life, I put on pants during the week, usually jeans. I did this because I felt like I should. That first month or so was all about trying to make things feel normal. But even with a few hours each day spent wearing jeans, I still wore the board shorts before and after. Once the warmer temperatures started though, the jeans fell by the wayside and it was all board shorts, all the time. It was likely around mid-April when they became a full-time starter as opposed to a valued bench-player, so it was also around that point that their days became numbered. You are probably wondering why board shorts? Would board shorts actually be comfortable enough to wear so often? Yes, yes they would, especially if they’re older and a little stretched out, meaning you could throw on some boxers underneath. But I’m not here to go inside baseball on you. Just trust me when I tell you that they have been the most comfortable pair of shorts imaginable and the best partner in crime a quarantined man such as myself could ask for. At one point, I had a gift card for the local surf shop here and while I would have normally used it to buy a new button-up shirt, what was the point in that. So I purchased a new pair of leisure shorts. They’re like sweat pants, but shorts. Seemed like a slam dunk and as my wife hoped, these newer, cleaner shorts would replace the older, dirtier board shorts. That was not the case. The new shorts are fine, but fine isn’t going to replace gold, which is what these Rip Curl board shorts have been. And still are! Despite a slight rip here and there (and there and here,) they are still wearable. Everything is good. But not for long I’m afraid. I know how this goes. The rips start small, then gradually get bigger. They make friends; new rips emerge. I wasn’t washing them a lot to begin with me, but now I fear that every spin through the laundry seems to shorten their life expectancy even more. It’s a dicey game I’m playing. Wash them, keep them somewhat clean but hurt their long-term chances of survival or don’t wash them and just flat out keep them. Spoiler: I’m not washing them very often. I’ve had something like this happen before, a treasured and valued article of clothing gradually slip away from me. It was a hooded sweatshirt and I loved that hoodie with every ounce of my being. But nothing lasts forever and eventually, the frays started to overtake the sweatshirt, creeping up around the hood and at the sleeves. The sweatshirt began losing some of its integrity, becoming more of a moo-moo than a sweatshirt and as the days went by, it was worn less and less, partly to preserve and partly because it just wasn’t fun to wear anymore. It was a damn shame. I think about the sweatshirt often. And now here I am, stuck in a similar situation with these board shorts, these lovely, comfortable, very broken in board shorts. I’m not giving up just yet. They still have some life to them. But that life is much closer to the finish than the start. It’s almost as if it is a race against time. Either quarantine ends and I start dressing like a grown-up again, thus buying these shorts an extra month or so or this quarantine life continues and these shorts disintegrate into nothing, leaving me left to find a new pair of shorts to wear every single day. But it wouldn’t be fair to those new shorts, having to now live up to the expectations of replacing the old shorts. The Patriots are struggling to replace Tom Brady and I will no doubt struggle to replace these shorts. It is quite literally, the exact same thing. Until that day though, I ride with these shorts. I live with these shorts. I dad the shit out of things with these shorts and go pick up dinner with these shorts. I take out the trash and recycling and I get the mail with these shorts. Sometimes I forget and sleep with these shorts and sometimes I don’t forget and sleep with these shorts. Could I have made it through this past year without shorts? Hard to say. But what’s not hard to say is that I don’t even want to think about such things. Thank you, green and white Rip Curl board shorts. Now let’s enjoy what time we have left, shall we? Ryan harbors a constant fear of losing his keys, prefers flip flops and will always choose cereal if it's an option. He maintains his own blog, Giddy Up America and hasn't gotten a speeding ticket in over the year. He has previously contributed work to UPROXX & Heavy. Ryan is on Twitter: @ryanoconnell79

Our flight from Philadelphia was at around 11 in the morning on Saturday. My wife and I said goodbye to our daughter and to our dog and also to my sister and our niece. They had come up the night before to watch over our daughter and pup. Then we hit the road, knots in both of our stomachs. This was not a normal trip. This was not a vacation and this was not for a wedding. This was a mission; a mission to get our daughter, who was currently resting comfortably in the womb of our surrogate, who lived in southern Florida, about a half-hour north of Miami. It had been a long time coming, us getting to this point in making the trip in the middle of August. Before the drive to Philadelphia, there had been plenty of decisions and discussions, followed by more discussions and decisions. There had been two miscarriages and subsequently, more discussions and more decisions. There were doctors and nurses, waiting rooms, various procedures, lengthy calls with insurance, car rides, tiny cups, paperwork, lawyers, notary publics, and paralegals. And then there was a pandemic. But for the most part, that was all behind us. Well, not the pandemic. That was still very much surrounding us, hanging over us like a dark and ominous cloud. Everything else though was largely buttoned up with the important parts tucked neatly into a brown folder in my trusty red backpack. If the drive to the Philly airport was Step 1, then Step 2 was checking in; checking in specifically with Spirit, an airline I have trust issues with. A few years back, we learned the hard way that you can make a reservation with Spirit, but that reservation will only get you so far. You need to also reserve a seat. What’s the point of the initial reservation, then? I still don’t know and probably never will but we had a credit with them courtesy of a canceled family trip that had been planned for April, so for at least one leg of the journey, we would be using Spirit. As with any large-scale operation with a lot of moving parts, each step seemed to have its own unique hiccup or hurdle. With Step 2, there was some slight concern on my part that even though Spirit’s policy clearly stated that they would check car seats and strollers for free, the current absence of a baby in either might prove problematic. All good though, as the lady at the counter didn’t even bat an eye. Our two bags both came in under 40 pounds too (also a concern,) so it was onto Step 3. Step 3 was security. That was relatively painless. Then there was Step 4, killing time in the terminal before our flight left. In my past life, this would have been a no-brainer, most likely ending with me saddling up to a bar somewhere. Not the case this time though, despite me being so keyed up that a drink would have done me good. Instead, I settled for some deep-breathing because that’s what Darin on Zac Efron’s Netflix show had recommended and that show is fantastic. Step 5 was getting on the plane. And again, there was another potential bump in the road because we were looking to board early with families despite one part of our family not yet currently with us. We made our way to the gate and the gate attendant, who without looking up, asked how old the child with us was. “TBD,” I replied. She looked at us, looked down at the empty car seat. Then she got it and waved us along. It was a full flight. Only a week earlier, when we made our reservation (for both the plane and the seats,) it hadn’t been, and that made sense. Florida was a hot zone not just in terms of temperature but also in regard to the number of COVID-19 cases in the state. Why the hell would someone be traveling to Florida right now if not for the birth of their child via surrogate? I was confused. And frustrated. Shotty mask wearers were all over the place, about every third person who boarded the plane was guilty of wearing their mask incorrectly. It was amateur hour in the midst of a pandemic, which scientifically speaking, is not ideal. The plane finally took off and I again leaned on Darin’s breathing advice as well as a live version of Phish’s “NICU” to take the edge off. Both helped but I could feel a headache coming on. I chugged water, I breathed in and out, I listened to “NICU” again and eventually, the threat of the headache quieted down. A couple hours later we landed in Fort Lauderdale. Another step completed. We wanted to see the hospital where our daughter would be born before heading north to Kim’s parents’ place and after getting our rental car, we headed in that direction and as we did, the rain came. It was pouring, it had gotten dark and we slowly made our way to the hospital. Then we saw it. It was right there. Looked fine; looked like a hospital. With our older daughter, who was also born via surrogate, we had been able to go in and tour the hospital, check out the maternity ward. But not this time. This time the tour had been virtual, enough to get the idea, which was the same with our drive-by of the place – we got the idea. Now it was time to head north. The rain really hadn’t let up and every place we stopped at for coffee was closed. That was a sign. Let’s wrap this up and get back to base. Before that though, we needed to stop at the grocery store and as we did, I got a voicemail from a New Jersey number. I listened to it as we walked up to the store and my heart started to beat faster. A knot in my stomach came back. It was the Immediate Care that we had gone to a few days earlier for a COVID test and they were telling me that they had my results and to call them in the morning. We had taken two tests, one of which was rapid. It had come back negative. I thought everything was cool, but now, what if it wasn’t? That would be a hell of a hiccup. I tried calling them back then but no one answered and I had no choice but to wait until the next morning. We did our best to remain calm and I worked on convincing myself that it was probably just an insurance issue because it’s usually always an insurance issue, regardless of the situation. Nothing to worry about. Everything was fine. I was going to have a Mahi sandwich. In Florida, Mahi and dolphin are the same thing. That was incredibly disturbing to me for a while before I realized it wasn’t the cute kind of dolphin, but Mahi, for some reason calling itself dolphin. Now I can laugh about it and hopefully, by the time I got in touch with Immediate Care Sunday morning, I could laugh about that as well. That night we watched Jaws. Kim, myself, Kim’s mom, and Kim’s dad, all crowded next to each other on a couch watching it on my laptop. It was adorable. Sunday went as follows: Tried to sleep in, but was woken up by the cable guy Called Immediate Care, results were negative, which was nice but they really could have just left a message Confirmed that tomorrow our surrogate would be induced Kim made sure the hospital bag was ready to go I looked up the plots of the Jaws sequels and trust me, it’s not pretty As Sunday wound down, Kim and I went for a walk and braced ourselves for the week ahead and what that might bring. *** Our surrogate was to be at the hospital at 5am on Monday morning. We also wanted to be there then but were told to by the nurse to stand by as there was no sense in us being there then. So, we did as we were instructed but it didn’t last long. As we ate breakfast, we were told to head down and that Kim could come in whenever. As for me, I would still be standing by. The nurse said that she was hoping to talk to some people over at Mother/Baby and that once labor was underway, maybe I could be let in. She was going to try but she also wasn’t making any promises. This was not new information. A few weeks earlier, while speaking with the head of Labor and Delivery, we were informed that due to COVID-related restrictions that had been put in place since March, the hospital’s policy was that each patient was allowed only one guest. The surrogate was the patient until the baby was born and naturally, we wanted her husband to be with her, meaning that was her one guest. Given that our situation was unique, an exception could be made and Kim would be allowed in as kind of a plus one. Once the baby was born, Kim would become the baby’s guest. All I could do was wait the entire process out from outside the building. We had had some time to process this news, but that time didn’t make things any easier. That time gave us an opportunity to talk ourselves into believing that everything would be fine. But that was fool’s gold. It was a bummer and it would continue to be a bummer. I would be missing the birth of my daughter and wouldn’t see either her or my wife until they were discharged at least two days later. Yet while it would certainly be tough and it would definitely be hard, it would be the way things were to play out and there wasn’t much we could do about it. As long as our baby girl was delivered and was safe and healthy, nothing else mattered. So, with that in mind, we got in the car, picked up coffee, and drove south. When we were in a similar situation with our older daughter and were headed to the hospital, the soundtrack of the car ride was Pearl Jam. So it was only fitting that we again turned to Pearl Jam when headed to another hospital to get our other baby girl. At noon, we arrived at the hospital and I walked Kim to the entrance. We said goodbye and that was that. She walked in and I stayed outside. I stood there for a moment or two, not entirely sure what to do next. I had to do something though, so I decided to get gas. I needed an objective; a purpose. Having a plan made things a little easier and on the way, I saw an old dude chopping at a palm tree with a machete. I then made my way back to the hospital and the parking garage. I drove around looking for a spot with good cell reception, a notoriously hard thing to do in parking garages. I finally set up camp in a spot on the ramp leading up to the closed-off top level. It was the best I could do. And then I peed in my empty Starbucks cup. And then I watched Avengers: Endgame. And then I waited for text messages from Kim. And then my stomach nearly collapsed into itself and tears formed in my eyes each time I received one, most of which were updates about how not much was happening. This was going to take time. Our other daughter couldn’t be born quick enough. Not so much this go around. I would need to find a spot out of the sun because I was going to be there a while and the southern Florida sun was merciless. Over the next few hours, I finished Endgame, thought about time travel, wrote about the Foo Fighters, and then got out to stretch my legs. I walked around the top deck of the parking garage, taking pictures of the clouds. In one direction I saw a building that looked like a giant guitar and in another direction, I could see the ocean. I did some light stretching and I stared off into the distance. There’s a good chance that I most likely raised an eyebrow or two if anyone happened to be watching me, wondering A) what this dude was doing walking around aimlessly on the top deck of the parking garage and B) if it was the same guy who has so far dumped two Starbucks’ cups full of urine out of his car today. You bet, buddy. The day dragged on and it was getting close to dinner time. Our surrogate’s husband recommended a burger spot nearby and I got something there. They had outside seating and there wasn’t anyone around, so I felt comfortable staying there and eating. Some places in Florida allowed inside dining, which made absolutely no sense to me. You had to wear a mask when you entered, but not once you sat down. But the staff wore masks and I just think that nothing makes sense anymore and this pandemic might last forever. On the plus side though, I had a Mahi burger and it was amazing. Storm clouds were rolling in; things were getting dark again. But no really, this pandemic might never end. While the rains once again came down outside, back at the hospital, nothing much had changed. Our baby girl was still too high, but also a tad bit on the big side so while our surrogate was trying for a natural birth, a C-section seemed likely. Whatever the method though, Monday night looked like a quiet one. The move for me was to head north for the night and come back in the morning. But there was something keeping me from doing that, something making me unable to go through with the decision or even make a decision at all. I hated leaving Kim, but at the same time, it’s not like I was physically with her and I knew I could be just as supportive up north at her parents’ place as I could sitting in the parking garage. The rain started to let up and I pointed the rental car north. To the west, the sunset was really something, bursts of orange, yellow, and purple exploding from behind the heavy, dark clouds. It was an easy drive and I was in an easy state of mind. Tomorrow would be another day, but tonight the Bruins were on. I would just have to try and get some sleep, see what happens on Tuesday. *** Tuesday started the same way Monday ended, with not much having changed. Our baby girl was still too high and with each passing hour, a C-section was more and more likely. I hadn’t slept but I had nothing to complain about. Kim got about 20 minutes. Sleeping in a hospital is statistically impossible. By 10am, I had resumed my post in the parking garage, but feeling adventurous, I wandered around and found a couple of picnic tables with umbrellas. I asked the man sitting underneath one of the umbrellas if I could open a closed one. “They’re all broken,” he replied. So being outside was not meant to last. It was already 90 degrees and it felt like 100. Soon I was back in the car, queuing about an episode of The Wire. As someone who likes to have something of a plan in place, the uncertainty of the day was unsettling. I had no idea what the next hour would bring. Every text message was met with a rush of energy even though most of them said that again, not much had changed. Kim was able to come outside at noon and for the first time in 24 hours we got to see each other. We went for an aimless walk around the hospital grounds and with our surrogate sleeping, Kim felt she could stay outside for lunch. And it was nice. With a whirling dervish of uncertainty guiding our every move and our every decision, the sense of peace that came with just sharing a meal with Kim was perfect. We barely even talked about what would come next. I don’t think we even talked much at all. We just enjoyed being with each other. I brought her up to what we were now calling my office and she closed her eyes, lounging comfortably in the passenger seat as I continued to watch The Wire. As our time together crept closer to ending, we decided that our best course of action would be to book a hotel room close by for the night, that way I could be in the area and she could stay there if it looked like it would be another quiet night. The hotel room was then confirmed but everything else was far from certain. I walked Kim back to the entrance where she again went in while I again stayed outside. I stood there for a few moments, just like yesterday, not knowing exactly what I should do with myself. The doctor was supposed to come by around six and presumably, a decision would then be made about a course of action. I would wait until then and go from there. Six o’clock passed and so did quarter after six. At half-past, I needed to change things up and take a break from The Wire. I opened the windows, turned the car off and now on the passenger side, sat there with the door open as a light breeze made its way through the parking garage. Up on the fourth level, it was quiet. It was just me and the pigeons. Anyone else who parked on that level had left. It was almost peaceful. Like I did on the plane, I turned to Phish to help settle my nerves. The song “Everything’s Right” came on and as it played, I started wandering around level four. The song’s chorus spoke to me and I started singing along as I walked and I felt good, I felt okay. “Everything’s right, so just hold tight.” Our baby girl was going to be born, either tonight or tomorrow. Maybe even the day after. She would be safe and healthy and so would the surrogate. I couldn’t be there and would still be out here in this godforsaken parking garage peeing in cups, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she would be born. “Everything’s right, so just hold tight.” In the middle of listening to the song again, Kim texted saying that they had all talked to the doctor. Not only was it going to be a C-section and not only was it going to happen soon but some strings had been pulled and I was going to be able to be let in. I needed to get my act together. I needed to pack up my office. I needed to pee one more time. I did all these things and then waited, waited for the word from Kim as she waited for word from the doctor. Then the word came. I grabbed my trusty red backpack. I bid the parking garage adieu and hoofed it around the building to the emergency room entrance. I was sweaty. It was hot. There was a line to get in, people waiting to be screened because of COVID and I told the nurse at the door that I was going to Labor and Delivery, that my wife and I’s surrogate was about to give birth and he waved me in through a side door. I told the same thing to the security guard, who waved me on, giving me directions, which are always the same directions in a hospital. Go down that way, make a right and then a left, then look for these elevators and take them to this floor and when you get off make another right and go down the hallway past this area until you get to the double doors and the security guard waiting there. It doesn’t matter where you are going in a hospital, the directions are always the same. I got to the security guard outside of Labor & Delivery and she too waved me in and when passing the nurse’s station, a nurse called over to me, saying I must be Mr. O’Connell. She led me to the recovery room, telling me that they had a room for us tonight but we’re sure about tomorrow. Us. She kept saying “us.” I had initially thought I would miss the whole thing but now I was going to be able to stay over with Kim and the baby, just as I had with our other daughter. I didn’t need the hotel room, didn’t need to worry about when to leave. It was a good thing I had brought some extra shirts with me. “Everything’s right, so just hold tight.” With it being a C-section, Kim would be in the recovery room with me as only our surrogate’s husband could be in the operating room. So, we waited together. We waited and listened intently each time the door opened, waiting to hear a baby crying, our baby crying. I think we waited 20 or 30 minutes but it felt significantly longer than that. Our parents kept texting for updates and at some point, I stopped responding. We just kept waiting. Not even talking really. Just waiting. And then finally a nurse appeared, the same nurse as before and told us our daughter was here. I cut the umbilical cord and we watched as she was weighed and measured. Yes, she was big; the biggest baby one nurse said she had ever delivered, but she was here and she was perfect. “Everything’s right, so just hold tight.” A little while later, as the three of us sat peacefully in our area of the recovery room, that same nurse from before came by to congratulate us and say goodnight. We said goodnight and thanked her for making sure we had a room. It was her pleasure, she said and then, before turning to leave, she wanted to remind us that only Kim and the baby could stay overnight. When it was time for them to go up to the maternity ward, it was my time to leave. “But what about tomorrow?” I asked. “Would I be able to visit tomorrow? Or the next day.” Nope, not unless Kim wanted to leave and we wanted to swap out. If not, then the next time I would see them was when they were discharged and needed a lift home. We sat dumbfounded. Again, we had prepared for this, knew that it was going to go down this way but amidst the confusion of the C-section decision and it suddenly being go time, miscommunication had reared its ugly head and wires had been crossed. It had all been too good to be true because it was just that, too good to be true. I couldn’t complain, though. I had come down to Florida under the impression that I wouldn’t be able to be in the hospital at all but by sheer goodwill and kindness, had been allowed in for a few hours following the birth. I got to cut the cord, I got to hold my newborn baby girl and I got to sit beside my wife as she did the same. I couldn’t complain at all. Still, though, hope found its way into the conversation. When another nurse came to bring Kim and our baby girl upstairs, I said that I guess I should leave and she was surprised, asking why wouldn’t I also go upstairs? So, I did. I walked with them down the hallway, past the random patients who smiled seeing us and said congratulations. I went up with them in the elevator and walked with them to the room; was there as they got settled in. But it started to get awkward. I knew I had to leave, but maybe they didn’t know I had to leave. So now, who is to say I couldn’t just hang out until someone who did know caught wind of the situation and gave me the boot? That would probably happen at three in the morning, though. Would it be worth riding it out for a few hours or should I just leave? What kind of terrible decision is that? Do I be honest and leave my wife and newborn baby or do I be sneaky and stay with them, knowing I’ll have to leave at some point, no doubt at the worst possible time. I still had the hotel room, but I didn’t want to go, but I also did because I knew I had too. I just wanted to lie down on the bed with my baby girl. Let her fall asleep on my chest as I rubbed her back. I wanted to stand with my wife and look at our daughter as she slept in that clear bin they had her sleeping in. I just wanted to be there. But I had to leave. The nurse in charge came in to make it clear that it had to happen and also make it clear that she felt terrible about it. This wasn’t a situation exclusive to us. Since COVID, one parent getting the boot had become an ugly standard practice that no one was happy with. The nurse must have apologized a dozen times and told me I could stay for a little bit longer if I wanted. And so I did, but only for a few more minutes. Then I left. I left Kim and I left our new baby girl. I walked past the nurses’ station and none of them looked up. I don’t think that was intentional but it still made me feel like I didn’t exist. I walked slowly down the hallway and slouched against the elevator wall as it took me down to the first floor where I then slowly walked down more hallways, all of them quiet as it was now past one o’clock in the morning. Outside it was still hot but it was now incredibly still. Nothing doing here. Even the pigeons had left and I climbed into the rental car. I turned the A/C on but kept the windows down. The air from both felt good and as I pulled out of the garage and off the hospital premises, “Waiting On A Sunny Day” by Bruce Springsteen came on. I think Spotify knew it was what I needed because it’s been my happy song since it helped get me through my uncle’s death a few years back. It was a ten-minute drive to the hotel and I listened to the song twice. I thought about stopping at a gas station for a beer but I drove past the one next to the hotel without a second thought. I just wanted to lay down. Over the next few hours, I Facetimed with Kim a handful of times and slept briefly, keeping the light on the whole time. I didn’t feel right turning it off, making myself too comfortable. I wanted my experience to mirror hers as much as possible. Morning came and I felt weirdly refreshed. I felt good. I made some coffee and opened the curtains. I turned on the news and sat down, just trying to take stock of what had happened over the past 12 hours. It was a lot to make sense of but all that mattered was that our baby girl had been born and at least Kim could be there with her in the hospital. But for how long? A place for Kim to stay that night was far from a given. I had gotten a late check-out at the hotel, so we had until 2pm to make a decision. If Kim could stay in the hospital, I’d head north to her parents. If she couldn’t, our baby would go to the nursery and I’d get another hotel room for both of us. Once again, we were in wait-and-see mode. I busied myself getting things done, securing a local pediatrician for a follow-up visit later in the week, checking in with our lawyer, booking our flight home, extending the rental car, and outlining the next steps with insurance. I didn’t pee in a cup once. It was nice to feel so civilized. By the time it was 2pm, they had moved Kim and our baby to our surrogate’s room, which they would all share for the night. I checked out of the hotel and found some lunch and coffee, soon resuming my post in the parking garage with the pigeons. But I wasn’t sure why I was there. Kim was good, set up for another night in the hospital. It didn’t make sense for me to be either in the parking garage burning gas by running the car so the A/C would stay on and it didn’t make sense for me to get another hotel room for the night. The only thing that seemed to make sense was to head north even though at the same time, that didn’t seem to make any sense at all. Why would I put more distance between us? Why wouldn’t I stay close? Because it did make sense to leave even though it didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense thinking in traditional terms because this was not a traditional situation. I couldn’t think of it in traditional terms. I needed to look at the situation clear-eyed and almost emotionless. I was going to drive north and that was that. It rained again. It rained a lot. I drove through three or four different storms and watched lightning bolts touch down all around me. Then there was traffic and then there was more rain and then there was more lightning. A drive that should have taken a little less than an hour and a half stretched out longer than two hours but finally, I got to Kim’s parents and sat in the driveway for a few moments. Just quietly sat there. My brain just sat there; my heart just sat there. Everything just sat there for a few moments. Then I did some laundry and ate some dinner. I watched the Celtics and watched Obama speak at the Democratic National Convention. And that was that. I passed out just as he was finishing up. I wasn’t out for long though. All night I kept waking up and once again, I slept with the light on, still trying to recreate the experience Kim was having in the hospital. Relaxing was impossible. Letting myself go so I could fall asleep was tough sledding and while I did doze off a few times, every time was short-lived and by 5am I gave up. I just lied there, waiting. I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for exactly. I was just waiting. Once 6am came around, I turned on the news and stared at it blankly. I couldn’t really concentrate. All I could think about was Kim, our baby girl, and not being with them. *** After a while I got cleaned up and had a good Facetime with our oldest daughter. It went much better than the one the night before where she mistook me saying I was heading to Nana and Poppa’s as me saying I was heading home to get her. My folks said it was tough after that but like me, eventually, she just passed out. She was in good spirits this morning and around 11:30, I headed back down south again, back to the parking garage and the pigeons and the limited cell service. There was reason to be excited because my girls were supposed to be discharged at some point in the afternoon. All of this would be over and we’d be together again. It’s all I wanted; for us to be together again but it had proven to be such an elusive goal, so unattainable. Now it was so close, though. I just had to watch a few episodes of The Wire and wait for the word to pack things up and go scoop my gals. Afternoon came and went. At some point, maybe around 5 or so, Kim thought she was close to being discharged and I ran to get coffee and snacks for her. I set up shop in a new parking lot for a bit, taking some time to shore up the appointment with the pediatrician, make an appointment for some lab work and get our ducks in a row. The time kept ticking away and I still hadn’t gotten word about the girls being released. Once again not sure what to do with myself, I headed back to the friendly confines of the parking garage. I didn’t know where else to go and didn’t want to even think about figuring out where else to go. The parking garage had begrudgingly become my safe haven and at this point, all I wanted was a safe haven. I needed a light breeze, which is what I got by the upper deck and for the first time since I had become a part-time resident of the parking garage, the temperature wasn’t that bad. It was tolerable. I didn’t want to stay in that garage for a minute longer but if I had to, things could have been worse. And then I got the text: “pull up in front of the main lobby now.” It was 8:10pm. Kim had gone into the hospital at 12:15pm on Monday and now 80 hours later she was leaving. And she was leaving with our baby girl. It had all been worth it; it had all worked. If I could have safely driven straight off the edge of the parking garage roof onto the street below to speed things up I would have but instead, I circled my way down to the bottom, one last time going around and around and around, down from level 4 to level 3 to level 2 and finally to the gate at level 1. For the last time, I gave the attendant my ticket and the money I owed and pulled up to the main entrance. Two lanes had been created with cones and I assumed the closest lane was closed off because of COVID so I parked in the far lane and started looking. I just kept staring at the door, waiting to see my girls. It reminded me of our wedding, where I just kept my eyes on the church door, anxiously waiting to see her emerge from them. I couldn’t wait. Of course, that closer lane wasn’t closed due to COVID and a minivan pulled up, blocking my view of the door and damn it, man, did he NOT realize I was trying to have a moment? I pulled up some and resumed waiting, resumed looking. And then I saw Kim and if I could have exploded with a mixture of relief and happiness and joy and gratitude all rolled up into one. I jumped out of the car to meet them and that was it, it was everything I had wanted, everything we had worked so hard for. It was beautiful. Our baby girl was perfect and we buckled her into the car seat and soon she was fast asleep. I cautiously pulled out of the driveway and onto the road that led to the highway, passing houses, buildings and businesses that had become all too familiar to me over the past couple days. Kim and I talked a little bit but soon the car grew quiet as we watched as lightning once again shot down from the sky off in the distance. The Ghost of Paul Revere played loud enough for me to hear it and for the girls to sleep or in Kim’s case, relax some and close her eyes. We headed north and we headed north together. There was more to this mission; it was far from over, but the most important part had been completed. It didn’t matter if I was physically there or not. We had gotten what we came for and that was all that truly mattered. The parking garage is all yours, pigeons. Treat her well and yes, that is pee. I’m not going to apologize. Ryan harbors a constant fear of losing his keys, prefers flip flops and will always choose cereal if it's an option. He maintains his own blog, Giddy Up America and hasn't gotten a speeding ticket in over the year. He has previously contributed work to UPROXX & Heavy. Ryan is on Twitter: @ryanoconnell79

In the summer of 2010, my lady friend (who would go on to become my wife) and I took a trip up to Maine, back to my hometown of Portland. She had been to Maine before but I don’t think she had ever been to Portland and I was excited to show her around. We checked out the waterfront, the boats I used to work on, my high school, a couple of my favorite bars, the pizza place my buddies and I went to all the time in high school, and Bull Moose Music, a local record store in town. Putting into words what Bull Moose had meant to me growing up was hard to do and it was fun to show her a place where I had spent so much time during my high school years. I spent hours there. Couldn’t even begin to tally up an estimate let alone something remotely close to an accurate number. If I was going to give this lovely lady a proper glimpse into what my Portland, Maine was, a trip to Bull Moose was essential. Earlier this week, some news came across the ticker that reminded me of that particular visit and so much more. Bull Moose’s Portland location was closing its doors. Other Bull Moose locations across the great state of Maine would remain open, but due to the reduced foot traffic in downtown Portland as a result of COVID, the Portland location was packing things up. The hope was to reopen again, but for now, the unofficial Portland landmark was done. It sucks. There really isn’t a more eloquent way to put it. I feel for those people who were lucky enough to still be able to visit the store and now can’t any longer. And I know that young people don’t buy physical copies of music anymore, but if they did, I would be bummed for those in sunny Portland, Maine who will be robbed of the unparallel joy of roaming through Bull Moose’s collection. I have no idea when I first stepped foot in Bull Moose but when I think of high school, it’s synonymous with those four years spent attending Portland High School, which was just a few blocks away. I’d dip into Bull Moose at lunch or after school. I’d stop in on weekend nights and throughout the summer, afraid I might have missed something not being able to go on a regular basis. Sometimes I’d have a clear objective, sometimes I was just kicking around with no stated purpose. In both instances, I usually left with something, if not a few things. Throughout high school, I was a sponge when it came to music as I was on a relentless quest to figure out what my tastes were, what music I loved, what music I liked, and what music I didn’t want any part of. Classic rock, modern rock, grunge, hip hop, rap, jazz, jam bands. Nowadays it’s so easy to explore different kinds of music and different artists thanks to streaming services. If you’re curious about an artist, you do a quick search and there you go. There’s very little effort involved and certainly very little financial commitment to checking out some new music now. It’s all so easy. But back in the day, if you heard something on the radio or caught a video on MTV, the follow-up work required if you dug it was far more labor-intensive than it is now. And I logged my time in the basement of an old building on Middle Street where there was a video store, a pizza place, and a record store. If you were a high school kid, what more could you ask for than those three spots all within a few feet of each other? Grab a slice at Anthony’s, pop into Videoport to check out movies or available posters, and then ramble over to Bull Moose. A solid hour or two right there, if not more. One of the best features of Bull Moose was the used music section. They had hundreds and hundreds of used CDs (and even some used tapes.) The used section was a great way to check out new music at half the cost. They had a listening section set up as well and if one of the two Discmans on the small table was available, you could saddle up and check out an album before forking over a couple bucks for it if you liked it. Just an example: I heard a song by The Specials once but I was lukewarm on ska; not quite sold on it despite having gotten into the Mighty Mighty Bosstones (who were only kind of ska.) So on one visit to Bull Moose, I checked their used section for Specials’ albums. Lucky for me, they had ‘The Singles Compilation,’ a Specials’ greatest hits album. When in doubt, an artist’s greatest hits album was always a good way to go when it came to checking out an older act you had just gotten into. And so I grabbed the album, took a seat at the listening station, and cruised through the album. I loved it and at a low cost of maybe $6, how could I not buy it? In any other situation, I would have been a little hesitant to buy the album but not so here. Of course, now, this would all be a moot point. But again, this was back in the day, you animals. Back in the day spending $6 on an album you weren’t 100% sure of was a hell of a smart move compared to dropping at least $10 bucks more. And even then, I still did that on more than one occasion. I’m sorry. I thought the Marcy Playground album with “Sex and Candy” on it would be good. I was wrong. But even in that situation, Bull Moose came in clutch because not only could you buy used CDs, you could sell your old CDs and I did that a lot. I did it to then buy more CDs. It was something of a circular economic back and forth between myself and the shop. I would truck in there with 5 to 10 CDs, they’d buy maybe half of them, giving me about $20, and I’d turn around and give that money right back to them a short time later having picked out a new Pearl Jam record or Grateful Dead live album. This happened on almost a regular basis and is part of the reason why in our basement right now I have about four large books full of CDs. It might actually be five now that I think about it. Bull Moose just felt like a safe place. The people who worked there were cool, like super cool, and gaining their respect, or at least a semblance of respect (real or imagined) felt like an accomplishment. There was Laree Love and a guy named Tony with a giant head of hair who I think maybe played in a band called Rumford, but I could be wrong about that. There were other people who worked there but those are the two I remember most. They’d give you a “hey man” when you’d approach the register and for a teenager, it was what it felt like later on in life when a bartender would do the same thing. It just felt good, like you were somewhere where you belonged. There was the bulletin board plastered with flyers for upcoming shows and there was the new release section that was always worth taking a peek at. By the used section was the local section where you could find albums by the same bands whose names were on the flyers over on the bulletin board. In the fall of 2005, my band’s debut album made its way into that section, and seeing it there, our name written in black Sharpie on the white divider that separated music from different artists was an unbelievably cool feeling. After college, I moved back to Portland for a few years, and about once every two weeks I’d stop into Bull Moose, determined to come out with at least two new albums. My band’s flyers were now on the bulletin board and I navigated the store with the experience of a trusted professional. But even still, there was that sense of open-mindedness, a little bit of naivete and youthful wonderment. I never knew what I was going to find or if an album cover was going to catch my eye. I didn’t know if that while digging through the still thriving used section, I’d come across a blast from the past, which was oddly enough, probably something I had bought and then sold back to the store a decade earlier. Trust me when I tell you that it was never lost on me that I could be buying a used copy of an album that I once owned and sold and this used copy could very well be the one I had sold. It didn’t matter though. None of it mattered. It was all in good fun because, in Bull Moose, it was all good fun. I’m not going to front and cop to still paying money for music these days. I’m an asshole in that regards just like everyone else is. I couldn’t even tell you what the last album I bought was but if I were to really think about it, it might have been nearly ten years ago when I saw this crazy Slavic brass band play at a bar in Philly and bought a copy of their album. But even with that, I didn’t really listen to the physical copy of that album much. It found a home in my car and that was it. Record stores, like book stores, seem to be a dying relic of a bygone era. Thanks to streaming services and the vengeful behemoth that is Amazon, their usefulness in a practical sense has eroded. But then again, that’s almost a slap in the face to both establishments because they were never really there to be practical but instead, be experiential. You may have had a singular goal in mind when stopping by a local record store or book store, but rarely were you in one for less than fifteen minutes. It was one of those rare instances where distraction was a good thing. The COVID pandemic and the resulting restrictions put in place by local governments could very well be the death knell for record stores and book stores, establishments that were on borrowed time as it was. The last thing they needed was for foot traffic to dry up, for people not to be inclined to swing by and meander around for a while, leafing through racks of albums or books. That involves touching and you know, these days… I hadn’t stopped into Bull Moose in years but I’d be curious to know if the store even resembled the one I used to know, one with racks and racks of CDs. Had it transitioned to putting more of a priority on other items, whatever the hell they may be? Was there even a used section anymore? I have trouble imagining there being one because if sales of new albums are down, it would make sense that there aren’t many people strolling into a place like Bull Moose to sell used CDs. And if they are, it’s probably not kids like me twenty years ago, with a handful of albums in my back pack. It’s more likely to be old heads like myself now, lugging large boxes of CDs and no one needs a 40-year-old man walking in anywhere with a cardboard box full of CDs they bought in the 90s. That’s why God made flea markets. Bull Moose being able to keep their other stores open does soften the blow, but I never really went to those stores. Mine was the Portland location and that one is closing. If I had a connection with the Windham location, it’d be a different story but that is not the case here. I could go deep on the cruel passage of time and how it all somehow comes back to me just getting older but I’m not going to do that. I’ll do that some other time. Right now I’m just lamenting the loss of a place that meant a great deal to me and helped shape my musical tastes when I was the most receptive. I’m lamenting the fact that people younger than me won’t have the same experience and even worse, probably don’t even realize that they won’t have that same experience because it’s one that is most likely so foreign to them. I remember one time I brought up the act of buying a CD to some young people a year or so ago and it was as if I was speaking a foreign language. It didn’t make any sense to them and as I was saying it, it didn’t make much sense to me either. Vinyl will likely always be a thing, but is that enough to keep record stores in business? Unless the Internet were to collapse into itself tomorrow (we can’t rule that out,) there is very little incentive for someone to go and buy an album. You can stream and I suppose now the indicator as to whether or not you really like an album is if you download it. That means it’s serious. But buying it? What would you even play it on besides in your car stereo? Times are changing. That’s obvious. Part of how you know is that you get hints and for me, Bull Moose Portland closing is a pretty big hint. When it comes to looking back at your time growing up, you’d like certain things to stay the same. That way you can visit them in person and reminisce at the scene. Knowing these places are still there helps keep you grounded in a way, especially if they were a place that helped form the person who you would come to be. The further you get away from that time, the more you want it to always stay because it helps remind you of that specific era in your life. But life doesn’t work out that way. Sometimes an effin’ pandemic happens and upends everything. So you’re left with just the memories. And CDs. The books and books of CDs. Thanks for the memories Bull Moose Portland. Ryan harbors a constant fear of losing his keys, prefers flip flops and will always choose cereal if it's an option. He maintains his own blog, Giddy Up America and hasn't gotten a speeding ticket in over the year. He has previously contributed work to UPROXX & Heavy. Ryan is on Twitter: @ryanoconnell79

Quarantine started around St. Patrick’s Day. The sequel to quarantine, Quarantine 2: The Pseudo Quarantine began a few months later; I don’t remember exactly when but we’re still there now. A third installment of the series is still in development as the writers can’t decide what direction to send the plot in. Over the course of both versions of quarantine, I’ve learned some things about myself. I learned that I can get past the itchy phase of growing a beard but ultimately, I’m not into having a beard. The idea of a beard was better than the beard itself. Plus the hair on my chin is white and everything else is kind of red and so overall it makes me look old. I’m good. On top of that, our daughter isn’t a fan and we’ve reached the point of our lives where her opinions on things have really started to matter. So beards are out for the foreseeable future. I also learned that I like my hair shorter instead of longer and I don’t need an alarm clock to wake up at six AM. I also realized that the dream I have of living in a world where the only clothes I needed to wear was a t-shirt, board shorts, and flip flops has proven to be a good dream because that’s exactly what I’ve been wearing every day since probably May and it’s fantastic. At some point, I’m going to have to wear pants, a collared shirt, and shoes, and with each passing day, that sounds more and more terrible and hard to stomach. One other thing I learned over the course of the past five months (eff word, has it really been that long?) is that Phish is great and I know that we’ve had our differences over the past couple years, but despite that, I’m officially into Phish again. Now I don’t know when this all happened but yeah, at some point during quarantine I started listening to Phish again and it just kind of picked up momentum as the weeks went by. I started listening to the band more and more, diving into old shows courtesy of this website re:listen.net I heard about on Twitter and checking out what live shows the band had thrown up on Spotify. Phish’s Ventura show is especially delightful and the show’s opener, “NICU” had become a tune I listen to and sing while kicking around the house on a regular basis. I even got my daughter into Phish, with both of us agreeing that “Ocelot” is a really good song. Although one day she was singing part of “Punch You In The Eye” and my darling wife had a slight issue with that, our daughter advocating violence and all. I didn’t have it in me to explain any of the back story regarding the song, so I just kind of went with it. On Tuesday nights, Phish had launched their Dinner And A Movie series and while I never watched it on Tuesday nights, I did on Wednesdays and Thursdays. There was one episode in particular where the show featured was from 1997 and watching it during some quiet time one morning, before anyone else was up, brought all sorts of feels and emotions. Shows from that time period were in heavy rotation for my friends and me back in college and there was something about how the band sounded during that show that felt so familiar. Shit man, Kenny probably had that very show amidst his vast collection of Phish bootlegs that he brought back to school with him at the start of sophomore year. The chances of me having heard the show before were pretty, pretty good. I started texting with some of my old buddies, dudes I had run with during those days, reminiscing about that fantastically weird time in our life. And then during the first weekend of August, which was the something or other anniversary of the band’s IT festival, that same group of dudes started texting again, prompted by one fella sending us a picture of all us, looking all sunburned and haggard and happy back in 2003 up in northern Maine. Full disclosure: I definitely don’t remember who at least two of those people are in that picture. Since graduating college back in 2002, Phish had been a presence in my life, but how much of a presence had been something that was constantly wavering. I would come back to them every so often, but it was usually pretty short-lived. It rarely stuck. But this time has felt different. Before I would listen to a show here or there or perhaps a few songs and that was that. This time though, I’ve been listening to them on almost a regular basis, whether it’s those old shows or studio albums of theirs I had never really gotten into. I had started to become overwhelmed with all the choices when it came to listening to a live show of the band’s so to make things somewhat easier, I put a couple playlists together of Phish live (there’s Live Phish Vol. 1 and Live Phish Vol. 2 if you’re interested) and while I’m sure a fan more diehard than myself would take issue with some of my choices and have strong opinions of say, a better version of “Fee” than the one I picked, I’m fine with that. The playlists were like quick resources, not definitive declarations of fact. And then recently, I found myself in Florida, waiting for our second daughter to be born. Because of restrictions put in place courtesy of COVID, I set up shop in the hospital’s parking garage as I wasn’t allowed inside the building (I’ll get into the particulars at another time.) At one point during day two, with us reaching something of a crossroads in regards to what would happen next, I needed to calm myself down and center myself. I needed a break from episodes of The Wire and needed to turn the car off, which was rough given the stifling weather in southern Florida in mid-August. I turned the car off, opened the car door, and just sat there, staring off at the now empty parking garage. I did some breathing because that’s what Zac Efron’s friend on Down to Earth suggested. Then I put on Phish, one of those aforementioned Live Phish playlists, and “Everything’s Right” came on. I stood up and I walked around some. I turned the song up more and a few minutes in, I had bought into the message of the song with the kind of enthusiasm reserved for buying something you saw advertised on television late at night. "Everything’s right, so just hold tight." And everything suddenly did feel right. And then an hour or so later, our daughter was born. I think I’ve fallen back in with Phish over these past couple months because, in the end, Phish is comforting to me. It’s music that makes sense and I think that’s partially due to how it brings me back to such fun, carefree times. Everyone has been dealing with all kinds of craziness since lockdowns began in March and while I’m not saying my life has been harder than anyone else’s, I have been planning for the birth of a child that was being born in a hot zone, so I’ve definitely had my fair share of stress. Phish has helped me make sense of things, sometimes by just removing me from the present and taking me on trips to random corners of memories. I could say I always would benefit from something like that happening, but as of late, it’s been incredibly helpful. In trying times, it’s good to turn to old friends. They know you best; know what you need to get through. I turned to Phish and I’m better off for it. And this time, I think it’s for keeps. Now please, get me out of Florida. Ryan harbors a constant fear of losing his keys, prefers flip flops and will always choose cereal if it's an option. He maintains his own blog, Giddy Up America and hasn't gotten a speeding ticket in over the year. He has previously contributed work to UPROXX & Heavy. Ryan is on Twitter: @ryanoconnell79 This column originally appeared August 2020 and is reprinted with permission.