Jaysus
Good times!
not gonna spotlight it, but there are at least 3 I would take if I was up next and still sleep very well tonight
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Desert Island "Discs" Draft (2010-2019) - We Did It (4 Viewers)
- Thread starter Eephus
- Start date
mphtrilogy
Footballguy
are we choosing one from each year or is a free for all over 10 years?
simey
Footballguy
El Floppo
Footballguy
Eephus
Footballguy
General Malaise
Footballguy
rockaction
Footballguy
KarmaPolice
Footballguy
rockaction
Footballguy
In all seriousness, are we on the clock or slow drafting? Might be easier to know. No biggie, just wondering.
rockaction
Footballguy
Eephus
Footballguy
rockaction
Footballguy
Northern Voice
Footballguy
Kick him to the bottom of the round IMO.
To be fair, I am a notorious poor commissioner these days
To be fair, I am a notorious poor commissioner these days
KarmaPolice
Footballguy
I thought that was a shot at JML.Kick him to the bottom of the round IMO.
To be fair, I am a notorious poor commissioner these days
rockaction
Footballguy
Summerpalooza went off without hitch. That was darn fine commissioneering, all moving parts considered.Kick him to the bottom of the round IMO.
To be fair, I am a notorious poor commissioner these days
Another corny thumbs-up, but meant just the same. You oversaw the buzziest of saws in the finals. Sheesh. Good year.
KarmaPolice
Footballguy
Based on a couple threads, we might have to wait longer on the draft as people get TOs..
Marlo Stanfield
Footballguy
Northern Voice
Footballguy
That's going to be a disaster. You can't have that discussion without talking about certain people and it's going to be a complete gongshow in no time flat. It may also kill the political forum
ditkaburgers
Footballguy
Pitchfork
Footballguy
KarmaPolice
Footballguy
Northern Voice
Footballguy
simey
Footballguy
Dr. Octopus
Footballguy
simey
Footballguy
I think it is time to move him on down the draft order. When he shows up, he could always go after the person who is up.
KarmaPolice
Footballguy
Skip Abrantes an Floppo - put rock OTC to get him out of the political threads for a bit?
simey
Footballguy
Maybe in keeping with the country theme, Abrantes is pulling a No Show Jones (George Jones got that nickname for not showing up at shows).
simey
Footballguy
mphtrilogy
Footballguy
Auto-Draft enabled?
General Malaise
Footballguy
I'm not nearly qualified enough to participate in this as I stopped "buying albums" about the same time this decade started (and let my long time relationship with Rolling Stone Mag go a few years earlier) but I could muddle through this with timely picks should you need a replacement.
#Scab
#Scab
Steve Tasker
Footballguy
"we're off and rolling"
Northern Voice
Footballguy
rockaction
Footballguy
I was one of the ones worried about WWWIII last night, so pardons are begged on my end. I'll keep the draft to music. Anyone can PM for political thoughts. Ah, I see my PM box is filling already.
I think I'll give Abrantes the hour and respect floppo's request for skippage. So then you'll have my pick at noon EST very promptly, unless others are cetainly inconvenienced by the hour wait. That's how I think I'm gonna play it. Commish gotta commish.
Also, GM, gb, you can still participate at the end of the round per the rules per most drafts and this particular draft. Fire away, brother, just at the end of the round and then on the turn you can fall into draft order.
Last edited by a moderator:
Dr. Octopus
Footballguy
I don't know why but last night I started wondering about the term "Desert Island", which really doesn't make much sense. I assume it was just the term"Deserted Island" getting butchered over time.
Jaysus
Good times!
@Northern Voice you're not really letting this train wreck get in the way of the AoTY poll, are you? lol
KarmaPolice
Footballguy
Not saying your fears and concerns weren't real or warranted. Just didn't want this to go the way for the Tshirt thread and a few people get TOd before completion.I was one of the ones worried about WWWIII last night, so pardons are begged on my end. I'll keep the draft to music. Anyone can PM for political thoughts. Ah, I see my PM box is filling already.
I think I'll give Abrantes the hour and respect floppo's request for skippage. So then you'll have my pick at noon EST very promptly, unless others are cetainly inconvenienced by the hour wait. That's how I think I'm gonna play it. Commish gotta commish.
Also, GM, gb, you can still participate at the end of the round per the rules per most drafts and this particular draft. Fire away, brother, just at the end of the round and then on the turn you can fall into draft order.
Sometimes these music and movie threads are good distractions from real life stuff.
rockaction
Footballguy
12:00 PM chariot. Let's get back on track here.
1.05 – Lorde – Pure Heroine – 2013
Simply and coldly put, this album was both a function of and catalyst for change of pop in the aughts, encompassing format, distribution, and content. It blew my mind when it came out but I was personally unable to bring to abstraction what was so good about it, and an appreciation of it came to me again later this decade upon the release of her second, which also took a sit-down moment and recommendations to finally break through. I think Pure Heroine displays a clarity, bona fide lyrical prowess, and a deconstruction of the elements of pop sound that had come heretofore from the nowhere zip codes she alluded to in her decade-best (IMHO) song "Royals."
Royals
Buzzcut Season
Long write-up and more links in spoiler
Was anybody paying attention to the young adults of the early aughts? How absolutely danceable the good punk had become, how coked out the rap/hip hop sounded and aspired to, how aughts dance had fragmented in a million ways, leaving algorithms to rule the airwaves in the form of uploads and streams on social media? And was anybody paying attention to the seismic shifts in the music industry thenceforth? The music industry, circa 2000, a dead one because of these developments, sure had found a way to function again by the late aughts. How to get around the death of everyone's favorite, binary-cropped “disc,” in both copyright publication ownership and the CD charge against the artist and public in record contracts themselves had been answered thusly: Achieve the most amount of playtime via cheaply-compensated streams aimed at the largest demographic, and then perform those songs extensively live – preferably in arenas or festivals. If this was not viable, you could, even better, find a format laden with commercials on the airwaves. Your biggest hits? Never mind ad-supported, they now work in the ad’s or program’s experience. And the gorging at the industry’s trough continued. The biggest counters to this by the musician and public? The rise in the early and mid-aughts of slow and warmed-over guitar twee, served with a side of the Beach Boys and their attendant rock clubs mixed with non-copyrighted beats coming from banging dance clubs (one presumes) in Europe. But the bankers got to that mostly, too, probably the day Modest Mouse floated on into the sky sonically and epically, or the day Kanye broke Daft Punk finally in America, leaving every dance and indie act now struggling to come to the fore resultant in a twenty dollar t shirt mark up charge.
I’ll still give you my money, Daft Punk.
But enough: it all seemed so prime for a takedown, or so inevitably careening toward mathematical and behaviorist certainty, that it began to propel and stack us Eight Million American Idols High, with a surprising emphasis on slightly chubby girls with triceps once unheard of and impossibly skinny men with tucked in calves and glutes all leading the way to a weird sort of bones and dough display, all grossly and baldly androgynous until Miley shaved everywhere but her armpits, leaving us with a shorn freak who was always going all the way but for spirit and humanness; where even tepid creativeness fought the algorithm, or, if you’re into the human for the moment like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs once were, you had your own riff of the decade totally ripped off for a mechanical imagining spewing forth from machines, vox changed from desperate longing and tears abounding to something more sterilized, palatable and feminist coming from the actual original AI winner.
Maps and longing were not cold enough for the feminine, spoke the machine, and a John Greene protagonist in copyrighted Paper Towns was born ever so gladly for the next gen.
So was this to be the final shot? Wherein was the remedy needed, the purge of this? Was a dialectical purge of this even possible? Desirable? Well, where would it come from? Folk/indie, ineffectually looking toward lost innocence however sadly? Post-punk and frustration bass ad nauseam? Guitar-based singer/songwriter introspection? It didn’t look too good. Who on earth would could? Who on earth would really dare?
But then. It was answered in one of those typically weirdly lucky ways America often operates upon when there is a cultural stasis or problem. Quite simply, we are bailed out by an utterly unique ally whereby the solution to the melting pot of dialectical issues comes from abroad in our vacuum, maybe sometimes twenty years ahead of America’s time, and aligns with ours. We are unique in lots of things, and accepting this help bit and branding it our own is indispensable to the American experiment. This time the system shock came from a husky-voiced, seventeen year-old residing in a small town in New Zealand, at once wonderfully seductive while also being freshly acne-faced and problematic-looking for a teen star.
Ella Yelich O’Connor, or Lorde, the person in question, had signed her first music deal in her mid-teens having already read 1,000 total books and proofreading her Mother’s doctoral thesis. She was singing for a mother’s friend who happened to be connected in some way to the industry. A Soundcloud success later, three years passage, and still singing after releasing a successful EP in NZ, there she was, smacking, as if instantly, off of the FM dial somehow with that song. That damn song that actually hit on U.S. radio. It directly addressed the zeitgeist of the aughts and the time – the top artists, the men and women within rap/hip hop/R&B were spending their cultural capital and their creative niche outlets having fights over their total worth and selection of inventory. And the public was buying it as art. The artists’ assets and goodwill brands acted as if, according to the “artist,” that the imprimatur of their new wealth sanctified poetry set to a music backdrop -- and was the raison d’etre of the effort. The songs and appearances had lurched almost fatally to celebrity appearance and cash. Accountants with attitudes showing up to work. It was so silly…and then…
But every song's like gold teeth, Grey Goose, trippin' in the bathroom
Bloodstains, ball gowns, trashin' the hotel room
We don't care, we're driving Cadillacs in our dreams
But everybody's like Cristal, Maybach, diamonds on your timepiece
Jet planes, islands, tigers on a gold leash
We don't care, we aren't caught up in your love affair
And we'll never be royals
It don't run in our blood
That kind of lux just ain't for us
We crave a different kind of buzz
Let me be your ruler, you can call me Queen B
And baby I'll rule (I'll rule I'll rule I'll rule)
Let me live that fantasy
Who said that? Why were they/it/her/he saying it? The entire industry was completely blindsided. The song hit, and hit hard, spending nine weeks at the top of the billboard charts, longer but not before cries of nihilism, elitism, racism, how dare she... flew over the song. And Lorde? That name? What the hell was that?
And did I mention she was young? Well, she knew what some of her songs were. They were shots across the celebrity bow, announced with more authority than Nuke LaLoosh of Bull Durham fame had ever dreamed, and devastated or at least turned some careers creatively toward other things then capital. People were especially thinking the song was a shot at Jay-Z and Beyonce, That caused problems, quickly put out. But it's hard to imagine a 4:44 and Lemonade might not even be subject fodder worthy of a listen without “Royals” four or so years earlier. The irony? Now everyone knew who Lorde was, too, this now-famous and likely very rich girl from a small town under the equator where even now the water goes the other way, doesn't it? And she’d tell you, too. Her lyrics dealt with the inevitability of her arrival on the scene, and with a bit of humility kept reminding us, not overtly and directly, but with well-composed lines of all too-prescient spirit, that...
Pretty soon I'll be getting on my first plane
I'll see the veins of my city like they do in space
But my head's filling up with the wicked games, up in flames
How can I #### with the fun again, when I'm known
And my boys trip me up with their heads again, loving them
Everything's cool when we're all in line, for the throne
But I know it's not forever (Yeah)
It’s quite remarkable, these tracks, this album. Its minimalism in its percussive repetition for beats, like the Neptunes did to hip hop with Clipse on Grindin’, changed the tenor and tone of female pop. It’s almost percussive acapella. Ella wrote the lyrics and conducted the music with songwriting partner Joel Little, fairly enough for massive credit and publishing crediting backed up by every version of the event, so to speak. And it worked: I’m not alone in that assessment. The dark minimal sound of hip hop and pop would be changed for the better part of the decade because of it. It’s hard to imagine my second pick for AOTD without Pure Heroine’s outsider success both lyrically and topically, so there it stays until next pick, snipe willin’.
Wonderful write-up at Billboard about “Royals” here:
https://www.billboard.com/articles/columns/rock/8544122/lorde-royals-songs-that-defined-the-decade
Standout, wonderful tracks:
Tennis Court
Royals
Buzzcut Season
White Teeth Teens
1.05 – Lorde – Pure Heroine – 2013
Simply and coldly put, this album was both a function of and catalyst for change of pop in the aughts, encompassing format, distribution, and content. It blew my mind when it came out but I was personally unable to bring to abstraction what was so good about it, and an appreciation of it came to me again later this decade upon the release of her second, which also took a sit-down moment and recommendations to finally break through. I think Pure Heroine displays a clarity, bona fide lyrical prowess, and a deconstruction of the elements of pop sound that had come heretofore from the nowhere zip codes she alluded to in her decade-best (IMHO) song "Royals."
Royals
Buzzcut Season
Long write-up and more links in spoiler
Was anybody paying attention to the young adults of the early aughts? How absolutely danceable the good punk had become, how coked out the rap/hip hop sounded and aspired to, how aughts dance had fragmented in a million ways, leaving algorithms to rule the airwaves in the form of uploads and streams on social media? And was anybody paying attention to the seismic shifts in the music industry thenceforth? The music industry, circa 2000, a dead one because of these developments, sure had found a way to function again by the late aughts. How to get around the death of everyone's favorite, binary-cropped “disc,” in both copyright publication ownership and the CD charge against the artist and public in record contracts themselves had been answered thusly: Achieve the most amount of playtime via cheaply-compensated streams aimed at the largest demographic, and then perform those songs extensively live – preferably in arenas or festivals. If this was not viable, you could, even better, find a format laden with commercials on the airwaves. Your biggest hits? Never mind ad-supported, they now work in the ad’s or program’s experience. And the gorging at the industry’s trough continued. The biggest counters to this by the musician and public? The rise in the early and mid-aughts of slow and warmed-over guitar twee, served with a side of the Beach Boys and their attendant rock clubs mixed with non-copyrighted beats coming from banging dance clubs (one presumes) in Europe. But the bankers got to that mostly, too, probably the day Modest Mouse floated on into the sky sonically and epically, or the day Kanye broke Daft Punk finally in America, leaving every dance and indie act now struggling to come to the fore resultant in a twenty dollar t shirt mark up charge.
I’ll still give you my money, Daft Punk.
But enough: it all seemed so prime for a takedown, or so inevitably careening toward mathematical and behaviorist certainty, that it began to propel and stack us Eight Million American Idols High, with a surprising emphasis on slightly chubby girls with triceps once unheard of and impossibly skinny men with tucked in calves and glutes all leading the way to a weird sort of bones and dough display, all grossly and baldly androgynous until Miley shaved everywhere but her armpits, leaving us with a shorn freak who was always going all the way but for spirit and humanness; where even tepid creativeness fought the algorithm, or, if you’re into the human for the moment like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs once were, you had your own riff of the decade totally ripped off for a mechanical imagining spewing forth from machines, vox changed from desperate longing and tears abounding to something more sterilized, palatable and feminist coming from the actual original AI winner.
Maps and longing were not cold enough for the feminine, spoke the machine, and a John Greene protagonist in copyrighted Paper Towns was born ever so gladly for the next gen.
So was this to be the final shot? Wherein was the remedy needed, the purge of this? Was a dialectical purge of this even possible? Desirable? Well, where would it come from? Folk/indie, ineffectually looking toward lost innocence however sadly? Post-punk and frustration bass ad nauseam? Guitar-based singer/songwriter introspection? It didn’t look too good. Who on earth would could? Who on earth would really dare?
But then. It was answered in one of those typically weirdly lucky ways America often operates upon when there is a cultural stasis or problem. Quite simply, we are bailed out by an utterly unique ally whereby the solution to the melting pot of dialectical issues comes from abroad in our vacuum, maybe sometimes twenty years ahead of America’s time, and aligns with ours. We are unique in lots of things, and accepting this help bit and branding it our own is indispensable to the American experiment. This time the system shock came from a husky-voiced, seventeen year-old residing in a small town in New Zealand, at once wonderfully seductive while also being freshly acne-faced and problematic-looking for a teen star.
Ella Yelich O’Connor, or Lorde, the person in question, had signed her first music deal in her mid-teens having already read 1,000 total books and proofreading her Mother’s doctoral thesis. She was singing for a mother’s friend who happened to be connected in some way to the industry. A Soundcloud success later, three years passage, and still singing after releasing a successful EP in NZ, there she was, smacking, as if instantly, off of the FM dial somehow with that song. That damn song that actually hit on U.S. radio. It directly addressed the zeitgeist of the aughts and the time – the top artists, the men and women within rap/hip hop/R&B were spending their cultural capital and their creative niche outlets having fights over their total worth and selection of inventory. And the public was buying it as art. The artists’ assets and goodwill brands acted as if, according to the “artist,” that the imprimatur of their new wealth sanctified poetry set to a music backdrop -- and was the raison d’etre of the effort. The songs and appearances had lurched almost fatally to celebrity appearance and cash. Accountants with attitudes showing up to work. It was so silly…and then…
But every song's like gold teeth, Grey Goose, trippin' in the bathroom
Bloodstains, ball gowns, trashin' the hotel room
We don't care, we're driving Cadillacs in our dreams
But everybody's like Cristal, Maybach, diamonds on your timepiece
Jet planes, islands, tigers on a gold leash
We don't care, we aren't caught up in your love affair
And we'll never be royals
It don't run in our blood
That kind of lux just ain't for us
We crave a different kind of buzz
Let me be your ruler, you can call me Queen B
And baby I'll rule (I'll rule I'll rule I'll rule)
Let me live that fantasy
Who said that? Why were they/it/her/he saying it? The entire industry was completely blindsided. The song hit, and hit hard, spending nine weeks at the top of the billboard charts, longer but not before cries of nihilism, elitism, racism, how dare she... flew over the song. And Lorde? That name? What the hell was that?
And did I mention she was young? Well, she knew what some of her songs were. They were shots across the celebrity bow, announced with more authority than Nuke LaLoosh of Bull Durham fame had ever dreamed, and devastated or at least turned some careers creatively toward other things then capital. People were especially thinking the song was a shot at Jay-Z and Beyonce, That caused problems, quickly put out. But it's hard to imagine a 4:44 and Lemonade might not even be subject fodder worthy of a listen without “Royals” four or so years earlier. The irony? Now everyone knew who Lorde was, too, this now-famous and likely very rich girl from a small town under the equator where even now the water goes the other way, doesn't it? And she’d tell you, too. Her lyrics dealt with the inevitability of her arrival on the scene, and with a bit of humility kept reminding us, not overtly and directly, but with well-composed lines of all too-prescient spirit, that...
- She’s good.
- She’s going to be famous.
- This is how she’ll deal with it. And if you respect it, hey, come along, too
Pretty soon I'll be getting on my first plane
I'll see the veins of my city like they do in space
But my head's filling up with the wicked games, up in flames
How can I #### with the fun again, when I'm known
And my boys trip me up with their heads again, loving them
Everything's cool when we're all in line, for the throne
But I know it's not forever (Yeah)
It’s quite remarkable, these tracks, this album. Its minimalism in its percussive repetition for beats, like the Neptunes did to hip hop with Clipse on Grindin’, changed the tenor and tone of female pop. It’s almost percussive acapella. Ella wrote the lyrics and conducted the music with songwriting partner Joel Little, fairly enough for massive credit and publishing crediting backed up by every version of the event, so to speak. And it worked: I’m not alone in that assessment. The dark minimal sound of hip hop and pop would be changed for the better part of the decade because of it. It’s hard to imagine my second pick for AOTD without Pure Heroine’s outsider success both lyrically and topically, so there it stays until next pick, snipe willin’.
Wonderful write-up at Billboard about “Royals” here:
https://www.billboard.com/articles/columns/rock/8544122/lorde-royals-songs-that-defined-the-decade
Standout, wonderful tracks:
Tennis Court
Royals
Buzzcut Season
White Teeth Teens
Last edited by a moderator:
rockaction
Footballguy
