Game 7: My Pounding, Swelling, Delirious Heart

Tonight, the Giants and Royals will play Game Seven of the World Series in Kansas City.

The Royals’ season-long fifth starter – and arguably worst pitcher – Jeremy Guthrie will take the mound against the Giants’ thirty-nine year old Tim Hudson. Both pitched in the only close game of the series Friday night, which the Royals won 3-2. It was relatively smooth sailing for Guthrie through five innings as he gave up two runs on four hits without a walk or strikeout. Kansas City’s stellar bullpen stifled San Francisco from there, allowing just two baserunners through four shut out innings. With all hands on deck for both squads tonight, including Madison Bumgarner for the Giants, the Royals will likely need a similar herculean effort from their bullpen, combined with the hitting onslaught from last night’s game, in order to okay, sorry, but I’m going to have to stop.

I’m so freaking nervous that I can’t think straight, much less fortify an argument with stats.

For weeks (OK, months), I have refrained from commenting (with any depth, anyway) on just how insane the words “World” and “Series” and “Royals” and “Kauffman Stadium” all sound in the same sentence/paragraph/universe. The occasional Twitter rally or motivational Facebook post have sufficed thus far.

I could opine about how this improbable World Series run, full of excellent pitching (nod to the bullpen), breakout performances (Eric Hosmer!), unlikely heroes (Moooooose), and SPEED (did you know who Terrance Gore was before this whole thing?) has revitalized a fan base that had been sapped for the last twenty-nine years. (By the way, did you know it had been twenty-nine years sinc…oh you did?)

I could go on about how their homecoming means a return to their comfortable AL lineup, pre-packaged decision-making for manager Ned Yost (bless his heart), and what will surely be a proverbial zoo in Kauffman Stadium. No need. The Royals showed last night (with some assistance from colossal batted ball luck) how much they enjoyed their return to normality after getting throttled in two straight games on the road.

The only thing I can really add is my personal view, my pounding, swelling, delirious heart, one in hundreds of thousands. It has been a very surreal, gut-wrenching experience. Its like being taken to the taffy pulling room night after night, the invisible hand of series momentum stretching and compressing the brain and stomach.

It has also been wonderful beyond any reasonable Royals fan’s wildest imagination.

There’s the AL Wild Card game, with the erasure of a four-run deficit in the ninth and a one-run deficit in the twelfth, with a walk-off hit coming on a pitch 18 inches off the plate. There’s the AL Division series, and the stifling of baseball’s best team in the Los Angeles Angels. There’s the four-game sweep of Baltimore. Stolen bases, infield singles, and bunts galore. The three-headed bullpen monster and the best outfield in baseball.

Here, at the cusp of Game Seven, there is nothing left to say about how ridiculously awesome this ride has been. Either way it ends, I’ll be proud as hell to have lived through it. If the Royals are crowned tonight, I may explode.

I’m looking forward to cleaning myself up.

Heads in the Troposphere: Some Brief Thoughts on Universe Contest at Hear Lincoln

For a band who’s live reputation is built upon chaos, the atmosphere of Friday’s Hear Lincoln outdoor concert marked a very real departure from the usual for Lincoln’s Universe Contest.

There were no mosh pits, no screaming patrons, no flying beer cans. No dim rock club illuminated by their exploding light show.

Instead, they held forth under a canopy of passing cumulus clouds and towering buildings on 13th and N Streets, surrounded by business people, music connoisseurs, food trucks, and beer tents.

The band seemed to treat this show, devoid of mayhem, a little differently in certain respects. They appeared relaxed in demeanor, bordering on subdued, which may have been due in part to the festival-like feel of a blocked-off 13th Street. They were also as sharp and clear as ever, a fact more easily recognizeable when one is able to take in the whole sound from a distanced spectating location, rather than being shoved up against one side of the stage. Each blaring lead riff and throbbing base note, every haunting keyboard chord progression was starkly audible while also complementary.

The outdoor setting furnished an oddly complimentary showcase for their progressive sound. Standing 30 feet from the stage-protecting barrier – as most did – it would have been difficult to keep one’s head from floating into the fluffy clouds above, transported by the reverberating spacey rock of “Doo Without Papers” emanating from the stage and swirling upward. With

The band has always been able to provide a wildly energetic, bash-your-head-against-the-wall escape during their sets. On this occasion, a pulsating rendition of “The Day The Earth Took Pills” launched the minds of Lincoln into the troposphere, where they buoyed throughout the set. A band that usually promotes a riot instead fostered contemplation and introspection, a foray into the figurative universe in one’s own mind.

Their music tends to fill whatever space is available to occupy. Friday, the space was less defined than usual, unshackling their sound in a way that was greatly refreshing. Rather than pounding a sweaty, cluttered room, it soared through the streets and carried listeners along with it. It is admirable when a band can adapt to its surroundings, and even more so when it relishes the opportunity.

Even as laid-back as they were, it was the same old Universe Contest. Singer/guitarist Tim Carr took a few seconds before each of the first few songs to – snarkily, but in the spirit of the day – plug various Lincoln businesses like Yia Yia’s and Jake’s Cigars and Spirits. His penchant for ruffling feathers also made an appearance, assuring all that yes, he did indeed say “fuck” on that last number.

Before it set the audience too far adrift, the band crashed back to earth and into “Jumbi”, and then it was back to the office and real-life for the rest of the afternoon.

Thirst Things First Album Feature

This past Sunday, I did my first interview and album feature as a contributor for Hear Nebraska. I sat down with the guys from Lincoln pop punk band Thirst Things First on the week of their EP release show.

When they’ve given interviews in the past, it’s always in character. As you’ll read, their “origin story” is that a transmission from the future put the band together as a mouth-piece for his propagandizing about oil. Oil is supposed to be anything you drink or anything used as currency. (Oil is like marklar from South Park, by the way. The best way I can think to describe it.)

This time, I stepped beyond the veil to speak with the band members themselves out of character. I was ecstatic (and a little nervous) to write a story that hadn’t been touched yet, a feeling augmented when it turned out to be so interesting.

What I found was a candid glimpse into their unique concept, it’s live execution, and what it means for them to release the record.

I’m very proud of this one. Here is the link: http://www.hearnebraska.org/content/speaking-without-boot-thirst-things-first-release-sexaphone-album-feature

Enjoy.

Black Lips @ The Waiting Room, Omaha, NE 4.28.14

Man, has this been a busy flipping week. Swamped at work. Writing a bit. Playing really hard. Burning the Roman Candle at both ends.

Which means that I’m late posting this, but its no less important to me.

This past Monday, I went to see Black Lips at the Waiting Room in Omaha, and ended up writing about it for Hear Nebraska. Here is the link:

http://hearnebraska.org/content/black-lips-waiting-room-concert-review

If you know anything about their live show (read the article!), you know things can get crazy. I caravanned from Lincoln with some friends, and didn’t really want to detach myself from them to sit alone off to the side and observe. I wanted to participate!

I joined my companions at the front by the stage. Close enough to touch Cole Alexander’s pedal board. Close enough to get tossed multiple feet at a time, back and forth across the pit. Close enough to high-five the band after.

My notebook was a jumbled mess of chicken scratch. There were limbs (and entire bodies) flying, and I was covered in all kinds of perspiration that wasn’t mine. But I wouldn’t have done it any other way. How best to relay the experience of being at a show than by being in the middle of it?

I had a blast. It was more than enough for me to be at a good show, to see a new (to me) band, and to do it all with a great group of people. In a year that has thus far been…well…difficult…I’m extremely thankful to have distractions like these and friends to enjoy them with. Not sure how I’d be getting through without.

Writing about it for Hear Nebraska was just gravy. I might be acting a little over-excited about publishing a second review in two weeks, but I really can’t imagine the novelty ever wearing off. I hope not.

I’ll be tackling something a little bigger this week. I am a little anxious, but still thrilled to be doing HN work. As long as things are going to be hectic anyway, I might as well embrace it.

Concert Review: Satchel Grande CD Release Party 4.19.14 @ Vega

When I posted my review of Okkervil River’s Omaha show last week, it was really just for me. As one of my new favorites, the timing was perfect. There was plenty to say about their songwriting, performance, and demeaner. The review basically wrote itself.

Whelp. Someone read it.

The following Saturday, I found myself at Vega in Lincoln for night two of Omaha funk band Satchel Grande’s CD Release Party. I had been asked by my friend Jacob Zlomke, staff writer at Hear Nebraska, to review the show for them as a contributer.

I flipped. You read that? And liked it? AND YOU WANT ME TO WRITE FOR YOU?!

I was honored. And excited. And anxious. Frightened, even.

By the good grace of the universe, I was able to push my heart back down into my chest long enough to pump out this review. Jacob and managing editor Chance Solem-Pfeifer put me through the ringer, and it wouldn’t be what it is without their help. True professionals. I am happy to call them friends as well.

Okay, enough mush. Find the direct link below, and enjoy.

http://hearnebraska.org/content/satchel-grande-cd-release-party-vega-concert-review

-$

You’re Not Too Cool To Put Your Hands Up: Okkervil River at the Slowdown

photo: andrew stellmon

Routine can be both a blessing and a hindrance. It can provide structure to a chaotic life, or it can cause it to grow stale. It can act as a compass, or the rocks which crash the ship. In the middle of a long tour, on a Monday night, you might find yourself inspired to play new tunes and reinvent old ones, or weary of playing songs you played for years. Okkervil River frontman Will Sheff alluded to this phenomenon last week as the band played to a weekday crowd at Omaha’s Slowdown. When asked by a member of the crowd to repeat the third song of their set, “Black”, from their third album Black Sheep Boy, Sheff called back, “Its enough to play that song just once a night. Its a song about murder.”

It may be the nuances of each night within the routine that get us through. As the night drew to a close, before the final song, Sheff ditched his guitar to bop around the stage to each band member and then to the crowd. While imploring us to clap along, he chided a woman standing near the rear of the club wearing a red dress, chanting “You’re not too cool to put your hands up!” Even in the midst of our weekday routines, none of us were.

Okkervil River’s brand of music has always been built around Sheff’s ability to craft intricate stories both autobiographical and fictional into rock songs. This especially on the heels of their seventh studio album The Silver Gymnasium, an introspective album set in Sheff’s childhood home of Meriden, NH. The record is constructed around tales from Sheff’s childhood as he tries to make sense of the memories he recalls. An ’80s theme permeates Gynasium, with references to Ataris and VCRs, a theme that the band brought with them to Omaha. As instruments were tuned and sounds checked, one might’ve noticed trinkets gracing the stage, including a Transformer, Juicy Fruit tin, and assorted action figures. These dramatic flourishes, when added to the evolving holographic backdrop of the town in which The Silver Gynasium takes place, immersed the venue in Sheff’s memory from the beginning.

photo: andrew stellmon

The band spread the wealth among their most popular albums, leaning only slightly heavily on newer material. The set began the same as their new album, with the cheery piano riff of “It Was My Season,” and continued right into the soaring “On A Balcony,” the first display of guitarist Lauren Gurgiolo’s chops. Notes exploded from her hands throughout the night as she tapped danced across her effects pedal apparatus. The group was polished and on point from the beginning and played without pause until about the midway point, as Sheff bantered with himself and the louder members of the crowd. The meat of the set included the pounding “The Valley,” and a truncated “Black Nemo” intro to the epic “Down Down the Deep River.”

A crowd that already seemed thrilled to be there helped Sheff find his glasses in the dark, brought him a whiskey, and was even caught singing along at the beginning of the encore as he played a solo rendition of “A Stone”. He stopped, smiled, and playfully retorted before continuing. The rest of the band returned to round out the set with the somber “A Girl In Port”, followed by a rousing edition of “Unless Its Kicks,” during which Sheff wielded his mic stand aloft and nearly decapitated a member of the audience. As they slammed the set shut the same way they had for weeks, I thought to myself, I suppose you’re not too cool to do that either.

 

Early Season Ailments

As the rain poured in Lincoln yesterday, I had the opportunity to take in my first full Royals game of the year. I would say “enjoy” were it not for some unsettling trends that, until now, I’ve only been able to piece together through stats or an inning or two here or there. The Royals were 4-6 and coming off of two straight poundings at the hands of the lowly division-rival Twins. After succumbing to the sweep yesterday, now at the precipice of a stretch in which they will face lesser competition in teams like Cleveland, Houston, Baltimore, Toronto, and Minnesota again, the Royals cannot afford to have these problems amount to another disastrous May like the one they suffered last year.

Some quick thoughts:

– Up until the first two games of the Minnesota series, starting pitching had been quite enough to keep them in each game, and the club’s record might indeed be 7-4 or 8-3 were it not for struggles at the plate. The team is 12th in the league with a 3.48 ERA, and tied for fifth with seven quality starts. They have also only allowed seven home runs thus far, good for top ten. James Shields has pitched well as expected, excluding Saturday’s debacle of a six-run second inning. Jason Vargas has performed up to the standards of his initially puzzling 4 year, $32 million contract, throwing over 100 pitches in each of his first three starts with a 3.00 ERA. Jeremy Guthrie and Bruce Chen have done their jobs, for the most part, eating innings and handing close games off to the bullpen. Young flamethrower Yordano Ventura, in his only start, fueled the optimism that flowed his way in spring training. The Royals have so far found themselves in close contests on a near nightly basis, but have been unable to either close the door when up or score when the other team isn’t.

– Let’s tackle the hitting problem first. All day Sunday, it felt as though the Royals couldn’t hit with runners in scoring position. In fact, the Royals have left on base 4.10 runners per game in scoring position so far this year, and thus sit at the bottom of the league in runs scored. They were the last team in the majors to hit a home run, setting a franchise record 7 game streak without a home run. All tangible stats that verify they eyeball test. The Royals have also dropped to 20th in the league in batting average at .239, and 22nd in OBP at .305. The only player making any impact at the plate has been C Salvador Perez, hitting .375/.500/.531, all top ten marks league-wide. Both LF Alex Gordon and DH Billy Butler, expected to be major run producers, have struggled. Butler has been in a particularly bad rut, hitting a putrid .154/.244/.154. The top of the lineup, as expected, has been getting on base at a decent clip, but the rest of the lineup has been unable to take advantage of ample opportunities thus far.

– When they have, the bullpen has been apt to rain on the parade. Collectively, they have blown three of six save opportunities, and that doesn’t include the first two against Detroit. In both games, the Tigers and Royals were tied entering the late frames, and both times the Tigers won in walk-off fashion. The save stat also fails to include what has been the most Royals-ey loss to date. With a 3-2 lead in the eighth inning, Aaron Crow came on only to walk his first two batters. Manager Ned Yost then brought on Wade Davis, who fanned Joe Mauer, then walked Trevor Plouffe to load the bases. The next batter chopped one right to Davis, who sailed his throw to home right past Perez and into the backstop. Brian Dozier scored on the error, and Davis’s subsequent failure to cover the plate after his errant throw allowed the go-ahead run to score as well. By my count, there have been nine games that could have gone the Royals way that all went the other way. Losing their key set-up man in Luke Hochever for the year has left Yost to figure out how the bullpen puzzle fits together. It won’t matter, however, what order relievers pitch in if they can’t stop issuing walks or failing to produce outs. By now, fans are used to this kind of pain, but with so much optimism at the outset, especially after the season the Royals’s bullpen enjoyed last year, it stings to start the season this way. Again, shades of May 2013.

– One more nitpick, this time regarding Ned Yost. Yost has been an easy target ever since his arrival in Kansas City, but already this year he has added logs to the fire. Down one against Detroit in the eighth inning early this year, he left SS Alcides Escobar, the worst everyday hitter in baseball last year, in to face Detroit’s defending Cy Young winner Max Scherzer with two outs and a runner on second. If ever they needed a hit, that was the time, and yet Escobar stepped in, to predictable result. Part of the problem is not entirely his fault, that being that the Royals do not carry a backup middle infielder to replace him should they need to pinch hit for him or he becomes hurt (instead, they carry seven relievers). What irked me was the reasoning he gave, which was that he “did not want to get into his dome” so early in the season. It sure is early, and one game may not be as important as having a hitter fully prepared for the entirety of the season, but that was a winnable, important game against what figures to be their main AL Central competition. Yost’s unwillingness to pinch hit thus far hasn’t affected his penchant for pinch running. He has insisted on pinch-running for Perez and Butler at almost every opportunity, whose domes he is apparently less worried about. Yost has done so in close games, were leaving those hitters in for potential high-leverage, late-game situations would likely be more ideal. He hasn’t been all bad this year; Escobar, for instance, hasn’t hit near the top of the lineup yet. Johnny Giovatella was called up to cover second base after Omar Infante was struck in the face by a pitch, and Yost opted to him his second instead.

You know what you are getting with Yost, who isn’t going to win you many games with his tactical prowess. The team just has to hope that Yost can make enough of the right decisions more often. Again, they are entering what projects to be their easiest stretch of the season. Going into June a few games over .500 is almost vital to any second half run. In September alone, they have two series with Detroit, and one each with Texas, Boston, and New York. There is urgent need to find a way to wake up the slumbering lineup and fix the struggling bullpen if the Royals have any hope of divisional or wild card contention.

Perez Injury Scare Highlights Royals Risk At Catcher Position

I won’t always preface posts, but as this blog will be a mixed bag, I wanted to offer an explanation. Sports have always been a big part of my life, and from time to time they will make their way into this space. With spring training in full gear and the regular season on the way, I’ve got baseball on the brain.

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The sight of C Salvador Perez running into the clubhouse Monday was more than enough to put a scare into his team and fans alike.

The 23 year old all-star catcher left the Royal’s Monday spring training victory against the Mariners mid-way through the third inning after being struck by a foul tip. Initial x-rays were negative, though the club cannot be blamed for running a bevy of tests to confirm the mild bruise on his left palm was just that. Manager Ned Yost called it “…really just precautionary,” Andy McCullough of the Kansas City Star initially reported.

Though no team is quite as good without one of its all-star players, the Royals can ill-afford to lose Salvy’s services in particular for any extended period. His .292/.323/.433 splits and 13 homers in 2013, coupled with his stellar defense, earned him All-Star and Gold Glove honors. He was able to stay healthy through most of his 138 games, a relatively normal workload at the strenuous catcher position.

His stats alone are reason enough to fret about losing a player of Perez’s caliber, though it’s what is (or isn’t) waiting to replace him were he forced to miss significant playing time. The Royals would be left to choose from two virtual question marks before the end of spring training in Brett Hayes and Ramon Hernandez.  Hayes cracked the majors for 5 games last season, and spent most of 2013 at AAA Omaha hitting .233/.279/.480. Veteran Hernandez has enjoyed a much longer stay in the majors and brings more experience to the table, but has performed far worse than his career .263/.327/.417 averages in his last two seasons with the Dodgers and Rockies, respectively.

Last season, the Royals had a more than worthy backup catcher already on their roster in George Kottaras. Kottaras left for the Cubs in free agency this offseason. Though nowhere near as defensively talented as Perez, Kottaras churned out a .349 on-base percentage, and at times was a base-on-balls machine. While the club’s reason for not re-signing Kottaras is unclear, his $1.08 million salary would have been money well spent at a position so vital, given their lack of pursuance of another option.

While it might be appropriate to suggest that the team roster Hayes to start the season, either option is less than desirable if Perez has to miss significant time. Yost admitted as much after Monday’s game. “In a perfect world, yeah, absolutely, you want a Gold Glove backup guy,” Yost said. “Sometimes, it’s not a perfect world. You’ve got to look at your roster, you’ve got to look at a bunch of different things. And then you make it work, whatever it is.”

The Royals will face this reality heading into the 2014 season. With ace P James Shields set to walk after the season, this may be their best chance going forward to take advantage of their perennially long playoff odds. No doubt the team feels they have the potential to compete, and one of the keys will be Salvador Perez. They have to hope that, if pressed into extended duty, whoever they nominate as Perez’s backup will be able to adequately hold his spot.

The threat of injury, though, will no doubt have Royals fans and the organization holding their collective breath.

Review- How I Got Over, The Roots

What follows is an album review for the 2010 release of How I Got Over, the ninth studio release by hip-hop group The Roots. It was originally published August 2010 by Seeds, the arts and entertainment section of the UNL student satirical newspaper The DailyER Nebraskan. Thought my time writing for Seeds was short, I had a blast. This piece was my favorite. What better way to start than by looking back.

***

Its not very often that a group’s ninth studio album is anything to fawn over. Hell, its not very often that a group even makes a ninth studio album. Either obscurity or non-existence are the most likely outcomes. For the Roots, however, another album seems to comprise only part of their current picture. In the midst of fulfilling a laundry list of obligations (including extensive touring, serving as the house band for Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, and a host of side-projects) the Legendary Roots Crew has found time to dominate yet another studio release. How I Got Over is considerably different than their last few projects in many respects. Unlike both Rising Down and Game Theory, which treated relatively dark subject matter, the Roots’ latest is far more positive, as MC Tariq “Black Thought” Trotter reflects on his journey to the present through his life and career. The group has also continued to evolve musically, adopting a smoother, more groovy sound, as well as blending an interesting combination of influences and styles. It takes only the first ten minutes of the album (which features guest vocals from the Dirty Projectors and Monsters of Folk) to realize that the band might have been exposed to some indie Kool-Aid. While Rising Down took off like a rocket and never slowed down, the Roots ease the listener into How I Got Over with similar dexterity. From the haunting keys and rhythm of all three MCs (Truck North, P.O.R.N., and Trotter) on “Walk Alone” through the album’s title track, the first half of How I Got Over flows without faltering through jazzy grooves driven by Amir “Questlove” Thompson on drums and Kamal Gray on keys. After the deep breath in the middle of the record, “DillaTude,” lyrics turn from reflection to thoughtful (and wholly confident) celebration. The music follows suit, becoming more upbeat while maintaining the soulful quality of the first half. “Web 20/20,” bounces the album to a finish with bare-bones rhythm and great verses by Trotter, Peedi Crack, and Truck North. In short, the essential feel of the album is as follows: the band provides an excellent landscape to showcase Trotter’s skillful writing and excellent rhythm, which (with the help of equally talented guest MCs) level buildings and steal souls. In a good way.