Thursday, May 15, 2008
Jul 23, 2002 | 1) Tommy Lasorda on Ted Williams (San Francisco Chronicle, July 6)
"He had a great pair of eyes. They say he could watch a 78 record go around and tell you what's on the label." Normal people can't do it with a 45.
2) Jill Olson, "My Best Yesterday" (Innerstate)
The jingle-jangle of the Searchers in the guitars, their "Needles and Pins" bite in this young woman's voice, a warmth and a feel for loss that the Searchers never got around to -- and a sense of place that makes Olson, who sings far less convincingly in the San Francisco country band Red Meat, at once familiar and someone you haven't yet met. "I hope these pop tunes remind you of the sounds that might have blasted from the radio of a brand-new 1966 Ford Ranchero," Olson says, "way back before you were born." Or perhaps before she was.
3) Subway commercial for Dijon Horseradish Melt (Fox Sports Net, July 13)
One "Jim" ("a Dennis Miller-type of guy who tells it like it is," says Subway publicist Les Winograd) pulls up to a burger joint in a car full of buddies. He's about 40, tall, well-exercised: "Turkey breast, ham, bacon, melted cheese, Dijon horseradish sauce," he says in the drive-through, exuding an aura of Supermanship all out of proportion to the situation. "That's, like, not on our menu," says the young, pudgy, confused person taking orders. "It's not only not on your menu," Jim says, "it's not on your radar screen!" "Do we have a radar screen?" the clerk asks a supervisor as Jim peels out. "Think I made that burger kid cry?" Jim says to his pals, all of them now ensconced in a Subway with the new Select specials in front of them.
It seems plain that, finally, George W. Bush is making himself felt in culture. The commercial takes Bush's sense of entitlement -- which derives from his lifelong insulation from anything most people eat, talk about, want or fear, and which is acted out by treating whatever does not conform to his insulation as an irritant -- and makes it into a story that tries to be ordinary. But the story as the commercial tells it is too cruel, its dramatization of the class divisions Bush has made into law too apparent. The man smugly laughing over embarrassing a kid is precisely Bush in Paris attempting to embarrass a French-speaking American reporter for having the temerity to demonstrate that he knew something Bush didn't. (Real Americans don't speak French.) Even someone responsible for putting this talisman on the air may have flinched at the thing once it was out there in the world at large, functioning as public discourse, as politics -- the last time I saw the spot, the final punchline had been dropped.
4) Counting Crows, "Hard Candy" (Geffen)
After the tied-in-knots "This Desert Life," a return to form: songs about endless free time, a fortune under the couch cushions not to mention in the bank, nothing to do and nowhere to go. Played with all hearts on sleeves. With angst. ANGST. ANGST. And it works: It describes a real terrain where people without endless free time or too much money to count actually live. Even if Adam Duritz's hair has reached the point where it looks ready to fly away with him.
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