By Chuck Vadun
I recently received an e-mail from Tim Wade asking for my:
top 5's for 98 (if you can't come up with 5, do whatever you can). Same rules as in the past. If you first heard/saw/discovered the item on the list in 1998, it doesn't matter if it was released earlier. Topics: songs, albums, new artists, movies, books, news events.
Wow, talk about waving a red cape in front of an ill-tempered bull. Finally an opportunity to assess this year's media cesspool. Rather than adhering to the top 5 format, I decided to discuss the best and worst in Tim's categories and others. What fun!
Best songs of the year (tie): "Ray of Light" and "Frozen," Madonna. Honorable mention: "Torn," Natalie Imbruglia (also my favorite new artist). Not a typo: Madonna's "Ray of Light" CD was my fave album of the year, too. The title track and "Frozen" provided an excellent soundtrack to my Cancun vacation and the entire CD kept finding its way back into my player, due to its fascinating sonic texture, varied lyrical content and energetic, pulsing beats.
Also of note: Page/Plant's "Walking Into Clarksdale," Imbruglia's "Left of the Middle," Everclear's "So Much for the Afterglow" and Sheryl Crow's "The Globe Sessions."
Now for the bad news: annoying pop/rock like "Semi-Charmed Life" got a lot of airplay this year. That particular song may be from last year, I don't know, but it was also a nightly blight on my Cancun clubbing experience to equal the inevitable and excruciating playing of "YMCA." If you're gonna rip off a riff or melody, why steal from the freakin' Spin Doctors?!? And I heard Matchbox 20's "The Real World" so many times that I grew to hate it--and then started to like it again!
Jimmy Page and Robert Plant (still) rock like fuck. 'Nuff said.
Came across my favorite and least favorite in the last month. I know it's been out awhile, but Jon Krakauer's "Into Thin Air" was incredible--especially after having seen the Everest IMAX film. On the other end of the spectrum was Anne Rice's "Servant of the Bones." I got 100 pages into it and realized there was no way I was ever going to care about the protagonist or even recognize any conflict in this tiresome rewrite of the overrated "Interview With An Umpire," er, "Vampire."
"There's Something About Mary" was great dumb fun. "Ronin" was classic Robert DeNiro meets James Bond. "The Horse Whisperer" was my fave chick-flick. Yes, I saw "Shaving Ryan's Privates," er, "Saving Private Ryan," and found it to be a valuable experience, though not a pleasant one.
Biggest disappointment: "The X-Files" movie. Two hours and $6.50 after watching this tribute to Chris Carter's ego, I felt just like I do after most of the episodes I've seen on TV--that I'd witnessed a great deal of overcomplicated buildup leading to an unsatisfying conclusion. At least the "X-Files" TV show doesn't rip off the "Alien" films. Come on, Chris; some of your audience is old enough to remember Sigourney Weaver as Ripley.
As for Oscar picks, well, let's see ... um ... who gives a shit! I hate the Oscars! God knows we ugly Americans have enough other avenues to satisfy our blood-thirst for competition. Why does the Art of Film (or any art for that matter) have to be in competition, too? Because of another American passion: money. And speaking of money, it's time to turn to ...
Best sports memory for 1998 will be going to a World Series game at Qualcomm Stadium. So the Padres got swept by the best baseball team ever. At least they silenced those insufferable tomahawk-choppers in Atlanta. Now that the NL Champs have been given the keys to the City of San Diego's treasury by a ballot initiative, they're wasting no time in dumping their most popular players. So San Diego now has two professional sports teams with exceptionally lucrative stadium deals and absolutely no incentive to win.
What if they didn't give an NBA season and nobody cared? I think the NFL should follow the NBA's lead, but lock out its officials instead of the players. A terrible season for the zebras has resulted in more game-turning calls than any year I've been a (gullible) Chargers season ticket holder. Most of you have heard my rants about how the outcome of every NFL game is no more in doubt than the average WWF match. It's plain to see that the NFL uses its officials to influence wins and losses (and of course, covering point spreads), thus providing huge gambling payoffs to underworld syndicates. NFL commissioner Paul Tagliabue is no doubt the leading candidate for organized crime's Man of the Year.
Best: the iMac. Once again, there is a computer for the rest of us. Complaining about its lack of a floppy disk drive would be like complaining about a new Mercedes model priced under 20 grand that doesn't have an 8-track tape deck.
Worst: any commercial Web site that requires the user to stop what they're doing and download a "plug-in" to see/hear their marketing messages. That's like an advertiser asking you to stop your car at the side of the road and walk a half-mile to look at their billboard.
Reminds me of my pal John Anooshian's oft-repeated quote: "This Internet thing, it's just a fad. Like CB radios."
This year provided indisputable proof that President Clinton has made a deal with the devil. Or Janet Reno. But I repeat myself.
Hey, personally, it was a great year for me. It's easy to see why. But there certainly was enough crap on the airwaves, bookshelves, trunklines and silver screens to make a good case for sensory deprivation. Fearless prediction (it's 12/10/1998 as I type this): Prince's "1999" album and single will return to the higher reaches of the "Billboard" charts the week between Christmas and New Year's. Thanks for reading!
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