The Eighth Wonder of the World

I miss Andre the Giant. He was one of those rare pop culture figures who achieves true legend status during his lifetime. He was, of course, an unparalleled wrestler and showman. He was also a beloved actor. What you may not know is that he was also a drinker of mythic proportions.

Check out this amazing article about his drinking prowess from Modern Drunkard magazine. It's full of stunning anecdotes like this one:

"You won’t find it in the Guinness Book of World Records, but Andre the Giant holds the world record for the largest number of beers consumed in a single sitting. These were standard 12-ounce bottles of beer, nothing fancy, but during a six-hour period Andre drank 119 of them. It was one of the few times Andre got drunk enough to pass out, which he did in a hallway at his hotel. His companions, quite drunk themselves, couldn’t move the big man. Fearing trouble with cops, they stole a piano cover from the lounge and draped it over Andre’s inert form. He slept peacefully until morning, unmolested by anyone. Perhaps the hotel people thought he was a piece of furniture."

Today Andre lives on in the hearts of millions and as a pop art icon. Andre the Giant has a posse, indeed.

"It was Christmas Eve, babe, in the drunk tank..."

Once when I was in Ireland I asked a bartender what he thought of Shane Macgowan. His reply pretty much sums up the man:

"Well, he's our greatest living poet, isn't he?"

Macgowan is the lead singer of the legendary Irish folk-punk band, The Pogues. And he's a raging alcoholic. And he's got a mouth full of rotten teeth. And, yes, he's our greatest living poet. But this post isn't about him (I'll save that one for another time), it's about his song, "Fairytale of New York."

Of all the lovely carols and hymns that float through the air around Christmas, it's probably my favorite, maybe because it balances its sweetness with charming little codas like this one: "You scumbag, you maggot, you cheap lousy faggot, Happy Christmas your arse, I pray God it's our last."

It's the tale of two Irish immigrants in New York and how their lives and love go wrong (or right, depending on how you hear the song). Macgowan's delivery of the sadly unfolding story is perfectly drunken and his duet partner, Kristy MacColl, manages to sound both wistful and seriously pissed off over the course of the song's three and a half minutes. Really, the whole thing is perfect.

It was Christmas Eve, babe.
In the drunk tank

An old man said to me, "Won't see another one."

And then he sang a song,

"The Rare Old Mountain Dew."

I turned my face away

And dreamed about you.

Got on a lucky one.

Came in eighteen to one.

I've got a feeling

This year's for me and you.

So happy Christmas,

I love you baby.

I can see a better time

When all our dreams come true.

They've got cars big as bars!

They've got rivers of gold!

But the wind goes right through you
It's no place for the old.
When you first took my hand
On a cold Christmas Eve,
You promised me Broadway was waiting for me.

You were handsome
You were pretty
Queen of New York City
When the band finished playing
They howled out for more.
Sinatra was swinging,
All the drunks they were singing.
We kissed on a corner
Then danced through the night.

The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing "Galway Bay"
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas Day.

You're a bum
You're a punk
You're an old slut on junk
Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed.
You scumbag, you maggot
You cheap lousy faggot
Happy Christmas your arse
I pray God it's our last.

The boys of the NYPD choir
Still singing "Galway Bay"
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas Day.

I could have been someone.
Well so could anyone.
You took my dreams from me
When I first found you.
I kept them with me babe.
I put them with my own.
Can't make it all alone
I've built my dreams around you.

The boys of the NYPD choir
Still singing "Galway Bay"
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas Day

Click here to download - Fairytale of New York by The Pogues

BONUS! Click here to download a cover - Fairytale of New York by Stars

Watch the VIDEO for "Fairytale of New York," featuring Macgowan, MacColl, and Matt Dillon.

Read a recent article in which Dillon calls the video the highlight of his career.

The Family Circus Makes Me Angry

The Family Circus. You know, the comic strip that follows the childish buffoonery of Billy, Dolly, Jeffy, and PJ, along with their dogs Barfy (?) and Sam and their cat, Kittykat.

Its dizzying un-funnyness has baffled and angered me for years. It has the opposite effect of most comics - - I read it and instead of chuckling or even smiling, I actually become pissed off. Apparently I'm not alone.

There are a number of sites which change the caption of each Family Circus panel in attempt to make it funnier (see above). Some are funnier than others, and - - fair warning - - most of them are more than a little bit crude. (Don't check them out if you're easily offended. )

Less crude, and probably more funny are the reviews and comments other Circus-haters leave on sites like Amazon and Barnes & Noble describing their love for Bil Keane's comics in gushing prose and quasi-philospohical language. (One reviewer calls it "Proustian introspection with Munch's visual conundrums.")

There's also this: Joe Mathlete Explains Today's Marmaduke. Mr. Mathlete has graciously taken it upon himself to explain the subtle, delirious comedic brilliance of the funny page's other low water mark to the rest of us who are too dimwitted (or angry) to wrap our heads around it.

Josh Ritter in the classroom

Fun story here about Josh Ritter's recent visit to a sixth grade classroom in STL.

Wish I could've been there.

My New Favorite Thing . . . part.

I loved reading the comics section of the newspaper everyday growing up. For a very long time I wanted to be a cartoonist and have my own daily comic strip. I was the cartoonist for my high school newspaper and was actually considering going to art school to hone my craft.

For one reason or another I ditched that idea, but to this day the comics are the first section I reach for when paging through a newspaper. The experience isn't as magical as it once was. With some notable exceptions, most comics are pretty terrible these days.

Which made me all the more delighted to find the genius of a web-based comic strip that is Thingpart. It's by a guy named Joe Sayers and it is incredibly funny. Way funnier than any newspaper comic I've seen in a long time.

I couldn't get the strips to copy into this post at a readable resolution, but his hilariously simple illustration style is evident above. Here, here, and here are a few of my favorite Thingparts. Enjoy.

Hobo Update

A quick hobo update. The "700 Hobo Names" project that I blogged about here has really taken on a mind of its own.

There is now a site up cataloging artists' renderings of each hobo (pic here is of #487 "Transistorized Maximillian, The Hobo Cyborg").
I might need to get in on this action and submit my own. There are many hoboes on the list that have still not been drawn.

Go to www.e-hobo.com to read more.

Josh Ritter, "The Animal Years"

"Peter said to Paul, 'You know all those words we wrote? They're just the rules of the game, and the rules are the first to go.'"

This is the opening line of Josh Ritter's The Animal Years. It's a kick in the gut that should immediately tell you this is not throwaway music. This is an album that will sit with you for months, its images, themes, allusions and pronouncements gestating in your head.

Ritter's past two albums, 2002's The Golden Age of Radio and 2003's Hello Starling, were promising enough (if a little ordinary), each with their own handful of well-crafted songs. With The Animal Years, though, Ritter steps far out of the fray of bland, same-sounding singer/songwriters.

In interviews Ritter has explained that he wanted to make an album that sounded the way Mark Twain books read. An interesting idea, if a bit vague. It is a notion that becomes crystal clear when you hear The Animal Years.

The best art is that which subtlely evokes, rather than simply stating, what it is trying to convey. Here are some prevalent images from this album: silent movies, Idaho, old west saloons, the Mississippi River, horses, radio signals drifting out over vast expanses of land, the Bible, the 19th Century, gravel roads, and wolves. What they evoke for you is your own business. For me it's things like faith, doubt, innocence, loss, regret, and tenderness.

Wolves are prominent on The Animal Years. They appear here and there, "clicking across the floor," as Ritter sings, their presence a torment. We all, of course, have things we can't let go of: ideas, dreams, regrets. Anyone who's ever been haunted by anything knows what he's talking about. It's a beautiful and powerful image, indicative of what is special about Ritter's writing.

There are shades of protest and politics here as well, but only shades. Ritter wisely eschews traditional protest song structures. Who needs another anti-war song? Do they actually convince anyone to change their mind anyway? Ritter's songs are less about politics than they are about the real-world dynamics behind politics (see "Girl in a War"). The result is far more powerful and moving than a mere political argument put to music.

Producer, Brian Deck, was an admirable choice for Ritter. Frontman of noise-rock band, Califone, Deck brings gorgeous nuance and a stunning sense of space to what are essentially simple folk songs.

Listen to "Monster Ballads*," a song that seems to live in a giant empty room. The only adornment for the understated shuffling rhythm is a soft, backwards-looped organ swell, and Ritter's pleading voice: "Ones and zeroes, bleeding mesa noise/ And when you're empty there's so much space for them/ You turn it off, but then a still small voice comes in blazing from some vast horizon."

It's not all melancholy, though. "Lillian, Egypt" is a sweet, floor-stomping story song full of great lines like "they made her the star of the silent movies, but all she did was mouth the words 'oh no.'" Check out the video for "Lillian, Egypt" here.

The album's centerpiece is "Thin Blue Flame," a scorching nine and a half minute affair, complex and terrifying and incredibly beautiful. Its internet release last year garnered its inclusion in 2005's Upbeat disc (see the "Upbeat 2005" post below).

This is the best album I've heard this year, and one of the best I've heard in many years.

Give it a listen for yourself here.

Download a few tracks for free here.

If you're interested, I'd recommend buying the album on iTunes, which gives you an exclusive bonus track, the lovely "Peter Killed the Dragon."



*What are "Monster Ballads"? Over-the-top, hair-metal slow songs. The early 90s was a hey day for monster ballads. Think "More Than Words" by Extreme. Here's more.