My Bird Performs

I'm back in Kokomo, sans car and the $400 spent on repairs. Apparently, my shifting system was the true culprit; I never did like that bastard. I'm without a vehicle until Thursday, so I have to make due with non-traveling entertainment until then.

Spending the weekend without a car was actually kind of relaxing. I've spent most of my time going from A to B this summer, so spending a few days of forced hermit duty was just what the doctor ordered. Most of my time was occupied by the conclusion of the World Cup. After watching Germany fall on Tuesday, I wasn't too thrilled to see my boys in the third place game. However, all of that changed when Oliver Kahn took the field for Die Nationalelf. As many of you may know, I have something of a big-boy crush on Kahn, and getting to see him perform on an international stage one last time only intensified my passionate, confusing love. After Germany spanked Portugal 3-1 to take the figurative bronze, I figured that I'd seen the last satisfying/exciting event of my World Cup. As you can now imagine, I was quite unprepared for this:



Now, let me state this for the record: after Germany, my favorite football team (USA aside, for obvious reasons) is probably France. With that said, I can honestly say that Zidane's headbutt was probably one of the most badass, flagrantly awesome things that I've ever seen at a sporting event. You can talk all you want about sportsmanship and losing your cool, but consider this: Zidane opened the fight with a headbutt to the chest . Imagine what his extended offense might've done to Materazzi, whose diving performance was worthy of any natatorium. Sure, Italy won the World Cup, barely, and with France missing three starters. I'm sure they feel good. However, Zidane now has the chance to attain the kind of cult adoration that transcends his own sport, much like his headbutt-wielding countryman on the left:



(Side note: both Zinedine Zidane and Andre the Giant are of French descent, which makes the headbutt France's only candidate for Official National Street Fight Move. A penny to anyone who can come up with some more nation/move pairings.)

All in all, it was a fitting end to a World Cup that saw a record number of red and yellow cards thrown. Congratulations to the Azzurri, and we'll see you in 2010.

Wilco - Impossible Germany (Live). With the end of Germany's World Cup in mind, here's an aptly named new track from everybody's favorite introspective Chicagoans. I tracked this down on Obner.org, but was hesitant at first. When it comes to Wilco, I can be pretty fickle. Summerteeth hooked me with its warm melancholia, while Yankee Hotel Foxtrot's tender mix of desolation and hopefulness convinced me that there might actually be something to all this Jeff Tweedy hype. But then, two years ago, along came A Ghost Is Born, which often sounded like Wilco's attempt to out-Radiohead Radiohead in terms of testing audience expectations. It was a boring, often lifeless record that came out at a time when I was looking for less of the first and more of the second. Flash forward two years, and to the new batch of tracks being tested out by Wilco at live dates (like this one, in Chapel Hill), and it looks like things might've changed for the better. Free from the draining musical frustration of their last album, Wilco marries the disheartened combination of personal loss and international paranoia found on YHF with the jammy, Americana-tinged pop of its earlier albums. In short, I'm getting excited; Jeff Tweedy might be relevant after all.

Wilco - Either Way (Live). A nice, simple country song about lovers about to part for good. Tweedy's lyrics, when combined with touches of organ and steel guitar, call to mind the ghosts of early Nashville. Passages like "maybe you still love me/ and maybe you don't/ maybe you will or won't/ maybe you just need some time alone/ I will understand/ that everything has it's plan" rend the same heartstrings they'll eventually comfort.

Wilco - Is That The Thanks I Get? (Live). The emotions played upon by Wilco's final new song are polar opposites of the sentiments found above. Here, love isn't about fucking around and quitting; instead, the narrator is in this one for the long haul. He notes that "we can make it better/ let's pull ourselves together/ and start it again". Instead of a crestfallen paean to staying together, this song stands up with the confidence necessary to actually affect some change. Really, that's what real relationships are all about. Also, I'd give $5 to see the move Tweedy's talking about during his stage banter.

Posted by Tyler on Monday, July 10, 2006 at 4:53 PM | Permalink