Sideswiped

LOL. After reading my recent blog on The Abbey Road Medley (Side Two), a young friend wrote to me and asked, “What do you mean by Side Two?”

I started laughing and chided myself for being so Boomer-centric. After all, it’s a legitimate question that deserves a decent answer. Here goes. For pedagogical purposes, I will answer this question as a dialogue.

===

Youth: What do you mean by Side Two?

Boomer: Once upon a time, before iPods, iTunes, MP3 players, and CDs, recorded music was distributed on a medium called a “record” that came in two sizes: a “single,” distinguished by a large hole in the center and played at 45 RPMs; and a long-playing album or “LP,” distinguished by a small hole and played at 33 and 1/3 RPMs.

Youth: Hold on. What’s RPM?

Boomer: Revolutions per minute.

Youth: You mean the little record goes around and around 45 times in one minute?

Boomer: Yes.

Youth: Let’s count it out . . .

Boomer: No, please take my word for it. Where were we? Oh, yeah, each record has two sides: Side One and Side Two.

Youth: Duh!

Boomer: Do you want to hear this or not? A single has only one song per side. An LP might have as many as six songs per side.

Youth: (Yawn) My iPod Nano can hold over 2000 songs.

Boomer: Right. Anyway, when a side is over, you have to get up and turn the record over to play the other side.

Youth: That’s dumb.

Boomer: No, it isn’t. It was actually ahead of its time since it made good use of the entire medium and didn’t waste anything.

Youth: Yeah, but when you were a teenager and you had a party, that means the music stopped at the end of the record and somebody had to turn it over.

Boomer: So?

Youth: Talk about killing the mood . . .

Boomer: Some of us had an automatic hi-fi record player where we would stack several records. At the end of one record, the tone arm would swing back, allow the next record to drop, then automatically place the needle on the first track.

Youth: (mock surprise) You used needles when you were a teenager?

Boomer: (with headache starting) Now cut that out!

Youth: (laughing) Yeah, yeah, I know all about records and turntables. DJs are still big for my generation, you know. I was just messing with you. Anyway, back to Side Two. I still think it’s inconvenient to stop the party or whatever when one side is over, get up, turn the record over, and put the needle back on, even if you have that stacking thing.

Boomer: Well, there was one really cool advantage to having two sides to an album. Rock groups and singers could arrange the tracks like a show. Side One was like the first act. Side Two was the second act and the first track of Side Two was as important as the first track on Side One because they each drew the listener into the side. Let’s take Abbey Road as an example.

Youth: I like the Beatles.

Boomer: All right! Side One starts with “Come Together,” an awesome way to begin. It’s followed by “Something,” “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer,” and all the great tracks that lead to the thundering “I Want You,” with its droning ending.

Youth: Cool.

Boomer: So, after hearing those six killer tracks, the listener almost needs to catch his breath and turn the record over. After John Lennon’s dark “I Want You,” it’s a pleasant relief to hear George Harrison’s bright and airy, “Here Comes the Sun.” In fact, when I was a kid and flipped the Abbey Road record over for the first time, I almost fell on the floor upon hearing the sheer joy of George’s song. And then that led to the whole suite of The Abbey Road Medley, straight through to “The End” and “Her Majesty.” What a masterpiece!

Youth: But . . .

Boomer: But, what?

Youth: You mean you actually listened to whole records in one sitting, from start to finish?

Boomer: Yeah. It was the cool thing to do when we were hanging out with our friends.

Youth: (scratching his head) I dunno. I always hit Shuffle on my iPod. I like to be surprised by the variety of songs and artists that Shuffle sends into my earbuds.

Boomer: (sighing) That, my friend, is the difference between your generation and mine. Why, back in my day . . . (annoyed) Hey, are you even listening?

Youth: (texting into cell phone)

Boomer: Hello? (waving hand over youth’s eyes) Anybody home?

Youth: Sorry, dude. Gotta go.

And off he goes, iPod earbuds in place, oblivious to the world around him as he continues texting. He’s happy with music his way, and more power to him. But there are times when I do miss Side One and Side Two and the whole pleasure of hearing an album’s tracks unfold in the thoughtful order that the artists intended.

Notre Dame Rumor Mill

Whoo, boy! The rumor mill is running rampant among the Fighting Irish cognoscenti. Ever since Notre Dame lost to Navy last Saturday (second time in three years), the cries of “off with his head” have been directed at coach Charlie Weis with a vehemence not seen since . . . the time they were directed at the previous ND coach.

Poor Charlie’s been on the hot seat for more than three years, ever since he signed the ten-year contract that expires in 2015, and whose idea was that? Although his win-loss record isn’t exactly a disaster, for Notre Dame football, success is only measured by an appearance in a BCS bowl, something that hasn’t happened in the Weis years. (Someone please correct me if I’m wrong.)

Here are some of the more interesting rumors that circulated on Monday:

• Weis gets fired this week. He is replaced by Corwin Brown or Ron Powlus, QB coach and former Irish star.



• Weis stays on to coach the remaining three games: Pittsburgh, Connecticut, and Stanford. If he wins all three there may be a reprieve. Or, if he wins all three, he graciously steps aside and allows the aforementioned Brown or Powlus to coach any ensuing consolation bowl.



• Weis gets fired after this season.

Here is a list of rumored successors:

• Brian Kelly (currently with the Bearcats of the University of Cincinnati)



• Urban Meyer (currently with the Florida Gators; if only ND had been successful in wooing him four years ago . . .)



• Jon Gruden (ESPN broadcaster this year, former coach of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and the Oakland Raiders

Whoa! Jon Gruden? Really?

Hold on. These are just rumors and flights of fancy. Kelly and Meyer are doing very well at their current schools. Why on earth would they move? As for Gruden, I have to think that there will be a few NFL openings for him after this season. Why would he go to the college game?

In fairness to Weis, when he took over after Tyrone Willingham he did coach Brady Quinn into one of the most successful quarterbacks in recent Irish memory. But that was years ago. In sports, you’re only as good as “What have you done for me lately?”

Interesting days ahead for the Fighting Irish. Meanwhile, here's an interesting analysis from Sports Illustrated:
"Notre Dame Is No Longer Different Than Other Programs of Its Type" by Stewart Mandel

The Abbey Road Medley (Side Two)

Robert Feduccia, my friend and fellow Beatles fan, was gushing last week about his copy of the newly remastered Abbey Road album. He asked me about how involved John was in a couple of Paul's songs. Here is my reply.

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Like scriptural form criticism, one cannot speak of "Golden Slumbers" and "Carry That Weight" unless it is within the context of all ten songs in what has come to be known as The Abbey Road Medley:

Because
You Never Give Me Your Money
Sun King
Mean Mr. Mustard
Polythene Pam
She Came In Through the Bathroom Window
Giolden Slumbers
Carry That Weight
The End
Her Majesty


The Beatles were breaking up. They knew it and their producer George Martin knew it. Nobody really said, "Let's do a final album because we're breaking up," but that sentiment certainly informed the whole time they recorded Abbey Road. The group had just been through a near-disastrous filming and recording of the Let It Be tracks and they knew those songs weren't really the best they could do. There was even talk of not releasing Let It Be at all. So "we can do better than that" was the spirit that drove the Abbey Road sessions.

The problem was that the guys really didn't have too many finished songs for a new album. Oh, they had the splendid complete compositions on Side One (Come Together, Something, Maxwell's Silver Hammer, Oh Darling, Octopus' Garden, I Want You), plus George's superb "Here Comes the Sun" that opened up Side Two. But they needed more songs to finish out the LP. You can almost hear them talking among themselves.

Paul: John, you got anything?

John: Nah, just a couple of jibberwoks with nonsensical lyrics (Sun King, Polythene Pam). You?

Paul: Not much, just a lullaby (Golden Slumbers) and that blues song we've been jamming on for a few weeks (Bathroom Window).

George Martin: Well, let's just record everything you've got and see what happens. . .

And they did. And it was Paul who said, "Let's put it all together like a suite. Can you do that, George (Martin)?"

And so George Martin did. This is a prime example of the whole being better than the parts. And as they polished each song fragment, all four of them contributed something to just about all the tracks. For example, all four sang the chorus on "Carry That Weight," a rare occurrence on a Beatles song. John also played bass on that track. George Harrison played Moog synthesizer* on "Because" and bass on "Bathroom Window" and "Golden Slumbers." John, Paul AND George played dueling lead guitars on "The End." And, for good measure, they persuaded Ringo to play his first-ever drum solo on the track so he could shine like they did on the guitar duel. In other words, despite the group's pending breakup, they apparently had a grand time recording Abbey Road.

In an interview for The Big Beat magazine, Ringo is quoted as saying:
"I love the second side of Abbey Road, where it's all connected and disconnected. No one wanted to finish those songs, so we put them all together and it worked. I think that piece of that album is some of our finest work."

Knowing this background story, I think it is clear that the Beatles knew exactly what they were doing when they gifted the world with the Abbey Road album. If they were going to break up, they might as well go out in style.

"And, in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. . ."

===
Sources:
Stephen J. Spignesi and Michael Lewis, Here, There and Everywhere: The 100 Best Beatles Songs, New York: Black Dog & Leventhal Publishers, 2004

Mark Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, New York: Harmony Books, 1988

* Among other things, Abbey Road was also one of the first mainstream rock albums to extensively use the then-new Moog synthesizer. You can hear it shine on "Maxwell's Silver Hammer," "Because," and "Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight."

Astro Boy and Other Childhood Icons

It happens when I least expect it. There’s Toby on the movie screen, reconstructed, confused, and wondering who he is and what he has become. Accidentally falling out the window of his high-rise apartment, he suddenly discovers the awesome power of flight. He is Astro Boy and he soars happily through the cloud-filled sky. Onward and upward!

My eyes start to water with tears.

There’s Alan Tracy and his pal Fermat in the rec room of their boarding school, watching his big brothers of International Rescue on TV as they risk their lives in their futuristic Thunderbird crafts, saving innocents from certain disaster. The kids in the school gasp at every treacherous move, then burst into cheers as the rescue is accomplished.

Tears.

There’s the confused young Peter Parker who, on a hunch, starts climbing up the wall of an old city building. Looking down from several stories, his eyes widen in amazement as he yells out in the sheer joy of discovery. He has become a Spider-Man!

More tears.



There’s Superman, weak from a kryptonite stabbing by Lex Luthor. Rescued from sure death by Lois Lane, who pulled out the deadly knife from his wounded side, they are now aboard Richard White’s seaplane, flying away from the danger. The Man of Steel opens the hatch to return to Luthor. Lois is aghast. “What are you doing?” she exclaims.

“I have to go back.”

“He’ll kill you!”

Superman looks fondly at his one-time girlfriend and smiles. “Goodbye, Lois.” And off he goes into the sky. He has a job to do.

I’m bawling my eyes out.

Okay, what’s happening here? I’m not one to cry easily, especially in public, but the tears do seem to come easily in a darkened theater if the movie is about one of my childhood icons. I was crying again while watching the new Astro Boy movie, grateful that the theater was practically empty for the early afternoon matinee.

I think it comes down to trying to recapture a lost part of my youth. I had a . . . difficult childhood. (And let the record state that I do NOT blame my parents.) I grew up in poverty, in a housing project, surrounded by crime and idle youth. I was bullied at school, sometimes just because I got good grades. There were times when I felt like I didn’t have a friend in the world.

So I took refuge in comic books. For only ten cents I would be soaring in an entirely different brightly colored world, filled with heroes who struggled with their everyday lives but somehow overcame the villain by page 23. Pow! Bam! Zap!

“This country is safe once again, Superman, thanks to you!”

I thrived on science-fiction and comic books and watched my favorite TV shows religiously every week: Lost in Space; Batman; Star Trek; The Green Hornet; Thunderbirds; Astro Boy; and the endless reruns of George Reeves’ The Adventures of Superman.

This fantasy world was my refuge from the daily challenges I grew up with. My heroes gave me hope that I could rise up above the forces that challenged me. I, too, could triumph in the end.

Eventually, I grew up and became a man and put aside such childish things. But whenever Hollywood makes a movie of one of my childhood heroes, I am the first in line -- and the first to cry.

My childhood scars helped shape me into the man I have become. I am grateful for my heroes, for the good that they symbolized and, most of all, for the hope that they inspired in me.

Of Blogs and Ken

First, an apology. I set up this blog page to share my musings and I really haven’t shared anything of late. The truth of the matter is that I have nothing to say. Is that okay? (Good morning, good morning, good morning, yeah . . .)

I do get a kick out of reading other people’s blogs, mainly because they seem to be such exercises in self-indulgence. Have you noticed the current penchant for incivility? (“You lie!” cried the out-of-order senator on the Senate floor.) I’m not saying blogging is the root of the problem, but it is certainly a symptom, or at least related tangent. After all, it is so easy type away one’s indignation at the president’s policies, the politician’s unbending stance, the talk-show host’s picadillos, the current state of liturgical music, the total collapse of one’s favorite team in the playoffs, or that jerk who cut me off on the freeway while I was talking on my cell phone. What a world we live in! How can I get back? I’ll show them: blogs and blogs of negative diatribes!

[SEND]

That’s the problem right there. Too many people are expressing exactly what they think and feel (generally a good thing; get it off your chest) and sharing it immediately without thinking through the ramifications (a not-so-good thing). Blogging is such an anonymous and empowering medium. As the 1980s saying goes, “On the Internet, nobody knows that you’re a dog.”

I think it was mom (always a good quotable source) who said: “Think before you speak.” We need to listen more to mom.

Another consideration: What goes on the Internet stays on the Internet.

I often counsel young people to think twice before they share photos of their last drunken party on Facebook, or post blogs of frustration laced with four-letter words against their teachers or parents. This stuff may come back to haunt them later in life. In fact, the Internet has been around long enough where I actually know a few people who are regretting something they posted just a couple of years ago because it apparently made the difference in their unsuccessful job application. Yes, of course, their prospective boss Googled their name. These days, who doesn’t?

I guess this is a rather long way of explaining why I might seem hesitant to post my innermost opinions on a blog. I do feel that I might have something worthwhile to share, but I also don’t want to contribute to the negative incivility that seems to be characterizing this first decade of the 21st century. I also don’t want stuff to come back and haunt me.

But I’m a writer and I make a living as a writer. And being a writer means taking the risk to put yourself out there. Maybe it’s time for me to do just that.

Roots of my Notre Dame fandom

"Touchdown Jesus" at Notre Dame Stadium!


Any casual reader of my Facebook, Twitter and blog entries will notice my enthusiastic devotion to Notre Dame football. Some questions people ask me:

Did you go to Notre Dame?
No, but I have many friends who were or are students there.

Were you taught by the Holy Cross Fathers?
No, although I did play the organ once at a Mass celebrated by Father Hesberg while he was visiting a church in Southern California. Got to shake his hand, too. That was a thrill!

Well, then, why are you a fan of Notre Dame, especially since you were born in Los Angeles and should be rooting for USC?
Two words: Irish priests! I grew up with Irish priests. One of my fondest teen memories is helping out at my parish on Saturday afternoons: stuffing envelopes in the pews, changing the missalettes, putting out the bulletins, etc. After we finished, the pastor would invite us helpers to watch the afternoon Notre Dame game with him. Father would then explain the nuances of college football, and how all Catholics should be rooting for Notre Dame.

What can I say? I’m an obedient Catholic. Go, Irish!

The Meaning Behind It All

World Trade Center as seen from the International Space Station on September 11, 2001. To download this NASA image, click here.

Every generation has their “red-letter date” when people remember exactly what they were doing and where they were when they heard the news. For Tom Brokaw’s “Greatest Generation,” it was December 7, 1941, when the Japanese Imperialist forces attacked the US Navy base at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. President Franklin Roosevelt declared it a “day of infamy.” The United States had no choice but to shed its isolationist stance and enter World War II by sending troops to both the European and Pacific fronts.

For Boomers, their date was November 22, 1963. Although I was not around during World War II, I do remember vividly the day that President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. It was late morning and I was in 5^th grade in Los Angeles. The teacher from next door came into our classroom and whispered something into the ear of my teacher, Miss Plested. They both started crying and that sure got the kids’ attention because we had never seen our teachers cry before. Miss Plested announced the dreadful news, and we were stunned.

The principal cancelled classes for the rest of the day and sent us all home for lunch. President Kennedy was my hero and I was stifling my emotions in front of my classmates. But by the time I arrived home I suddenly burst into tears and ran to my bedroom. My father happened to be home that morning, and both he and mom rushed over to my side. They heard the news, of course, and mom cradled me in her arms.

September 11, 2001. It was a beautiful fall morning in Portland, Oregon, and I opened my balcony window to take in the downtown view as I got ready to drive to work. As per my custom, I turned on the television to get weather and traffic reports, and there was the World Trade Center in New York City, with one tower on fire. I was a little groggy and not fully awake as I tried to comprehend what was going on. Suddenly, the cameras focused on a jetliner that was zooming dangerously low. As it crashed into the second tower, the newscaster exclaimed three simple words that I think summed it up for all of America: “Oh, my God . . .”

Writers and pundits better than me have tried to find and express the meaning behind it all. On the two red-letter dates of my lifetime, I was struck by the unity that followed in tragedy’s wake. For a short time, the world seemed to be one as we mourned the passing of President Kennedy or as we gathered in our churches, synagogues and mosques to pray during the week of 9/11. Alas, this unity was short-lived as the 1960s unfolded into more tumult and war. Strangely, this current decade has experienced a similar unfolding.

On this eighth anniversary of 9/11, let us remember those who have died or who have suffered: the victims and those brave police and firefighters who rushed to rescue them and also died trying. I pray that the unity that we glimpsed that week may someday become a lasting legacy. Perhaps that might be the meaning behind it all.

Pope Benedict's Prayer at Ground Zero

Grant Us Peace