Film Review: The Hangover

Ever have one of those nights where you have a lot of fun, but a lot more booze? Y’know, the kind of night where you seem to run on auto-pilot because your memory succumbs to the barrage of alcohol well before your body does?

It’s happened to the best of us at one time or another and it’s the premise behind the surprisingly intelligent comedy hit The Hangover. Rather than see the cast’s drunken exploits as they unfold during a night out in Sin City, we get to join them as they awake the following morning and try to figure out where their missing friend has gone and why their hotel room contains a crying baby and a live tiger.

Doug (Justin Bartha) is about to tie the knot in Los Angeles. But before he goes through with his nuptials, his friends Phil and Stu (Bradley Cooper and Ed Helms) and his soon-to-be brother-in-law Alan (Zach Galifianakis) join him in Las Vegas for the obligatory celebration of bachelorhood. With a plot set up like that, you’d expect there to be a whole lot of liquor and lap dances, but The Hangover provides an unexpected and welcomed departure from the “frat pack” genre by focusing instead on the misfortune of the hapless characters. The audience is only witness to the first drink of the group’s debauched evening, but we’re faithfully present the following morning as they awake in the disaster that is their $4,200-a-night luxury suite. Phil, Stu, and Alan miserably greet the day with head-splitting hangovers and no recollection of anything that transpired the night before. A quick inventory of their suite yields a crying baby in a closet, a live tiger in the bathroom, and absolutely no sign of Doug the groom. Oh, and Stu—a dentist by trade—is missing a tooth. With only these clues in front of them, the remaining three spend the rest of the film trying to piece together the previous night’s events. Time is of the essence as they retrace their steps—and ward off the suspicions of their significant others—in an attempt to find Doug and get him back to L.A. in time for his wedding ceremony.

To be sure, some of The Hangover’s humor lands with audible thuds, and there’s a fair share of puerile jokes (a child tasering someone’s testicles and an offensively stereotypical Chinese character played by Ken Jeong come to mind). But these prove to be the exception to the rule, as director Todd Phillips has bested Old School and crafted a uniquely clever tale about the many, many things that can go wrong during a night of heavy drinking. The film would have been dull and brainless if it had simply chronicled the hijinks of a night in Vegas. Instead, we get to see some drunkard detectives put their sleuthing skills to the test to find their friend. Galifianakis shines as the dim-witted and eccentric brother-of-the-bride. His caricature is nothing new to this brand of film, but he manages to breathe new life into the type of role that has been run into the ground in recent years by the likes of Will Ferrell and Jack Black. Cooper and Helms are equally funny, although neither one is as memorable as their bearded co-star. Even an unnecessary and extended cameo by the dreadful Mike Tyson isn’t enough to bring this film down.

Ryan says: A-

Click here to see the trailer on YouTube.

Michael Jackson, Iran, and the Media

I was getting ready to fix myself a bachelor’s dinner of hot dogs last night when I noticed that it was 6:30 and time for the NBC Nightly News. I love me some Brian Williams (even if his whole I’m-a-salt-of-the-earth-type-of-guy-with-blue-collar-roots-just-like-my-viewers shtick has worn a bit thin), so I opted to put my exquisite dinner on hold and turn on the television. Before the picture on the screen faded in, I could tell that Mr. Williams was talking about a death.

That makes sense, I thought. Farrah Fawcett died earlier today.

But when the screen finally vivified and the graphics were clearly visible, it said that Michael Jackson was dead.

Huh-whaaaat?! I implored my TV set. Michael Jackson died?

And since we’re living in 2009, I naturally jumped on the nearest laptop to verify what Brian Williams was telling me. Sure enough, everyone else was saying that the King of Pop had passed away. Apparently, everyone else in the world was hitting the 'net just like me to learn about the breaking news or weigh in on the situation.

After my initial shock had subsided, I took a step back to reassess the situation. Hmmmm, I thought, he was only 50 years old, but he was a pretty eccentric guy. Plus he obviously had some phsyical problems, and lord only knows what sort of state this guy's mental health had been in. It's actually not that surprising to hear that he died.

I then did a quick perusal of Facebook and Twitter to see measure others' reactions to the news about MJ. Sure enough, it had already begun to dominate Facebook messages and was the hottest trending topic on Twitter. And since I've been so cynical when pondering the news media recently (y'know what I'm talking about: the saturation of "Jon and Kate" stories when some fairly momentous history is playing out in Iran) I hastily wrote this quick thought on my Facebook wall:

Sadly, a large portion of Americans are going to forget about what's transpiring in Iran because the news media will probably devote an ungodly amount of coverage to Michael Jackson's death.

Sure enough, before the Nightly News had concluded, Brian Williams informed me that Ann Curry would be hosting a two-hour special later in the evening to remember Fawcett and Jackson. And so it began...

Now, allow me to lay my cards out on the table. As I said, I was initially shocked to hear about MJ's death. Less than 24 hours before it all went down--in some eerie, cosmic coincidence--I had been singing along to "Man in the Mirror" and "Billie Jean" as they played from my iTunes library. I won't deny the musical genius and the physical gifts with which he was blessed. Brother could do the Moonwalk! A lot of pop stars living in the lap of luxury today (*cough* Justin Timberlake *cough*) owe approximately 98.9% of their careers to Mr. Jackson. The point I'm trying to make is that this man deserves to be memorialized. He had too much of an impact on American popular culture for too long a time to simply be ignored and forgotten.

But I'm only hoping that the media (CNN and Fox News, I'm looking at you two) will exercise some restraint. I can't help but think back to February 2007 and the inordinate amount of coverage given to Anna Nicole Smith's death. And my god...she had absolutely no talent! No redeemable qualities! (Well, not completely true. She could apparently perform oral sex on that wheelchair-bound geriatric without vomiting all over his lap.) My generation is going to have to atone for the sin of having polluted the airwaves with some truly vacuous crap about that woman and her overdose.

What will be worse, however, is if we allow the coverage of this celebrity death to trump the coverage about the protests in Iran. The Iranian reformists opposing Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and the religious clerics have been buoyed by the attention the United States and other nations have paid to their struggle. Serving as the audience for their courageous citizen-journalism, we must continue to bear witness to the saga. It's quite distressing to think that the heartbreaking video of Neda Soltan might have flown under the radar if Michael Jackson had died at this time last week. But in the culture of round-the-clock infotainment that we absorb and perpetuate, it's fairly simple to imagine that it might've played out that way.

So, please: mourn the loss of a cultural legend. It's natural and it's right. But let's not allow ourselves to get mired down in murky, trivial details surrounding his death.

As I wrap this up, CNN's reporting that the authorities are looking for MJ's doctor, since his cardiac arrest may be drug related. It seems that they want to ask the doc some questions. I'm sure we'll be privy to more of these riveting details in the days to come.

Oh, brother...

Music Review: Octahedron by The Mars Volta

Perhaps more than any other group this decade, The Mars Volta have effectively polarized the entire community of alternative music fans. There really is no middle ground when discussing them. Those that harbor an unhealthy infatuation with the darlings of prog rock gaze across the great divide at others who lambaste Omar Rodriguez-Lopez and Cedric Bixler-Zavala for their self-indulgent paeans to chaotic noise. Don’t believe me? The band’s last two efforts (Amputechture and The Bedlam in Goliath) have both debuted in the top ten on the Billboard 200 despite being widely panned by critics.

But The Mars Volta’s fifth studio album may serve to considerably narrow the gap between the fans and detractors because the band has created their most accessible record to date. It seems like ages ago when we were listening to all of that hokum about a haunted Ouija board and its influence on The Bedlam in Goliath. Well, even though that was in January of last year, it may just as well have been a long time ago considering the stark difference in sound on The Bedlam and Octahedron.

Rodriguez-Lopez, who writes and arranges an overwhelming majority of the band’s material, has called Octahedron The Mars Volta’s acoustic album. Although that’s not entirely true, Octahedron’s eight tracks do offer more of a stripped-down sound than anything found on preceding albums. To be sure, plenty of cacophony still exists on the record, but the sound is a lot less busy and a lot less complex. What does that mean? Well, for instance, if you enjoyed the saxophone, clarinet, and flute fills found on other Mars Volta records, you’ll be saddened to learn that Adrian Terrazas is nowhere to be found on Octahedron. His absence is quite noticeable if you’re a fan of Amputechture or The Bedlam.

Octahedron opens with the elegiac “Since We’ve Been Wrong,” which finds Bixler-Zavala singing somberly over nothing more than a plucked acoustic guitar. An electric guitar cries mournfully over the chorus, but Thomas Pridgen’s powerful drumming is completely absent for over five minutes. It’s bare bones. Nothing else on Octahedron sounds quite as sad and naked as the opener, but it most definitely serves as a statement regarding the different sound that exists on the album.

“Teflon” ventures back into familiar territory for the band. It joins “Cotopaxi” and “Desperate Graves” as the album’s rockers, with Bixler-Zavala wailing over a canvas of distorted guitars and Pridgen’s bombastic percussion. “Luciforms,”—which closes the out the album—would also mesh well with previous Volta albums, save for the elongated intro that sounds something like Pink Floyd blending with Mechanical Animals-era Marilyn Manson. But though there’s a semblance of the band’s traditional sound, it’s a lot leaner. Clocking in at 50 minutes, Rodriguez-Lopez has discarded the interminable guitar solos and unnecessarily long segments of ambient noise to craft a polished piece of music that flows smoothly from start to finish.

“With Twilight as My Guide” is Octahedron’s standout track by a large margin. An acoustic guitar meanders over a hauntingly ethereal background as Bixler-Zavala offers up a beautifully fragile tale of isolation and loneliness. It won’t find its way onto popular radio, but it’s easily one of the most rewarding listening experiences you’ll have with this band.

Those who’ve laughed at the absurdity of Bixler-Zavala’s lyrics in the past won’t find anything different on Octahedron. He’s just as cryptic as ever, although there are a few moments of lyrical lucidity that stand out among his absurd and arcane language. In “With Twilight as My Guide,” Bixler-Zavala sings that “my devil makes me dream like no other mortal dreams.” It may be the simplest and most profound thing he’ll ever write. For the most part, though, attempting to understand TMV’s esoterica is a fruitless endeavor. Toss the liner notes aside and enjoy the musicianship.

If a newbie wanted to give The Mars Volta a spin, one would be hard pressed to recommend any of the band’s other work over Octahedron. That’s not to say that there’s nothing worthwhile in the rest of their extensive catalog, but this newest album would definitely be the most palatable for the uninitiated. Conversely, Octahedron is tremendously enjoyable for dedicated fans despite the slight change in direction. It’s markedly different than the band’s magnum opus Frances the Mute, but in several ways it may be the superior record.

Thanks for reading! Happy listening! Here are some of the new tracks (thanks to YouTube):

• "With Twilight as My Guide"
• "Teflon"
• "Desperate Graves"

iPod Shuffle (Blurbs About Songs)

In an effort to demonstrate my awesome taste in music, I've decided to plug in my 30 GB iPod (which is currently about 98% full) and shuffle a bit through the 4,520 tracks contained within. I'll then write a little blurb about the song. This should be fun (for me, anyway) and will allow you to see that I listen to much more than Phish. But in the interest of full disclosure, you should know that my catalog of live Phish demands a nice chunk of space.

1. "Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle" - by Nirvana -> "I miss the comfort in being sad," wails Kurt Cobain on this track from In Utero. One of the middle-of-the-pack songs from that effort, I think. The coolest part? Has to be the barely audible palm-muted guitar in the intro.
2. "Chelsea Dagger" - by The Fratellis -> Meh, not a huge fan of this one, folks. I mean, it's not bad, but it's got one of those hooks that will burrow its way into your brain and overstay its welcome. It actually found its way onto my iPod because I downloaded the whole album to get more acquainted with the band. My download impulse was driven solely by "Flathead," which I find so much more appealing.
3. "The Best Things" - by Filter -> A great track from an even greater record. Here's a funny story: it was the summer of 1999 and my parents had just blessed me with my own television and cable hookup in my bedroom. One of my favorite pastimes in the summer preceding my freshman year of high school was to stay up late (past midnight was a big deal for a 14-year-old) and watch MTV's 120 Minutes on whatever night it was on. That's where I learned a lot about not-so-popular alternative music, and it's where I first saw the video for Filter's "Welcome to the Fold" from Title of Record. That's the moment I became a Filter fan, and when I knew I had to get my hands on the new album. The rest is history. I listened to Title of Record a lot during my freshman year, and, consequently, hearing a song from it always brings me back. Instant nostalgia. And great industrial rock, to boot.
4. "Abuse Me" - by Silverchair -> Remember Silverchair? I sure do. If you were into all the second-rate grunge bands that rode the coattails of the more successful Seattle acts, then you must know this trio of Aussies. I say second-rate there as a bit of an insult, but the fact is that I really liked these guys, and I still do. At least their stuff prior to Neon Ballroom. "Abuse Me" was probably my favorite track of theirs. The ethereal intro is so spooky and wonderful, and the pre-chorus refrain is a classic: "C'mon, abuse me more. I like it." I never understood the whole bit about throwing the sailors overboard, but I mindlessly sing it anyway.
5. "Comedown" - by Bush -> Ah! A great band to follow Silverchair because they're the other great example of a second-rate grunge band. For some reason, these guys had a huge following in my middle school. I still enjoy them every now and then in spite of the cookie-cutter power chords and Gavin Rossdale's stream-of-consciousness lyrics that don't make much sense. Listening to this song reminds me of the music video, which I recall enjoying. Perhaps I should look it up on YouTube and take a stroll down memory lane...

Wow, this has been a lot of fun. Unfortunately, only doing these five songs probably gives you the impression that I was big into the whole grunge scene. I guess I was, but this isn't very representative of what else dwells in my iPod. I'll definitely have to come back for a second round of this game.

Until then!

Fenway Park - 05.31.09

Last night, I witnessed Phishtory. That's right: that's a portmanteau of Phish and history.

The fearsome foursome from Burlington, Vermont, played a monumental show at Fenway Park in Boston. And while it wasn't the setlist I was hoping for, I still had a decent time. I survived the lengthy trip from Hampden, Maine, the subsequent encounters with the folk who seemed more into whippits than the music, and the small dose of cold rain that directly preceded the show.

A quick plug for the wonders of mass transit: I drove from my current home in Hampden to Portland (roughly 128 miles) so I could take a ride on Amtrak's "Downeaster," which runs a service to Boston. It was great, and being on a train made me feel as though I were back in Europe, where I lived for four months and where train travel is the norm. It'd actually be greater if they extended their service deeper into Maine so that I could further reduce my carbon footprint.

Anyhow, I arrived in Boston a few hours beforehand and wandered the area around Fenway. Being my first time at a Phish show, the wooks (those are the stereotypical Phish fans) had a chance to make a good first impression on me. They failed. My god, I've never seen so much huffing in my life. I understand the drug culture that surrounds the band (even though recreational users would do well to recognize the fact that Trey Anastasio is two-and-a-half years sober), but I fail to understand the whole whippits craze. The kids fill up balloons with nitrous oxide and huff on 'em like there's no tomorrow. I'm sure there's some euphoria to it, otherwise it wouldn't be done by so many. Oh, well. Different strokes for different folks. But I'm pretty sure including huffing among your hobbies automatically qualifies you as a veritable waste-oid.

On to the show: My brother and I had decent seats. We sat in the stands on the third base side. Not close to the stage in centerfield, but not terribly far either. After a brief wash of rain, the guys came out onto the field via the Red Sox dugout and delivered the Star Spangled Banner a capella--just like we were at a real life baseball game!

They then disappeared for five minutes so they could make their way through Fenway's catacombs and end up on the stage in the outfield. On account of the occasion, I was guessing that they'd break out a "You Enjoy Myself" or something similarly grandiose. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little let down when they opened with "Sample in a Jar." It's an okay tune, I'll admit. Not one of my favorites, but I know that others appreciate it. Mercifully, it was short, as Samples tend to be. They won me back over by following with "The Moma Dance." Then it was on to the fan favorite and rocker "Chalk Dust Torture." And then, the first highlight of the evening: they dropped the new "Ocelot" on us. I wasn't looking forward to the new stuff they would be playing, and I wanted them to get it out of the way. However, this new tune surprised me in a good way. The bouncing rhythm was awesomely infectious, and I became an instant fan. I hope they explore its jamming opportunities throughout the summer.

The first set concluded with several rockers that were abbreviated in length for the most part. A decent "Stash" and the rarity "Destiny Unbound" led to a roaring "Character Zero" to close. As a Phish fan, it's hard to be dissatisfied with the classic picks of the first set, but I had been hoping for more of my favorites. I would have preferred a set-closing "Run Like an Antelope" to "Character Zero," and I would've rather heard an "AC/DC Bag," "Split Open and Melt," or a "Punch You in the Eye" mixed in there somewhere. And there were no segues in the first hour and a half, something I really enjoy listening to in old Phish recordings ("Mike's Song" > "Old Home Place" from the Island Tour, or "Moma Dance" > "Free" from June 2004, anybody?). The visual presentation of the first set was also hindered by the daylight. Because of the 6:45ish start time, Chris Kuroda's one-of-a-kind light show couldn't be appreciated.

Things were different in the second set though. The sky was dark, the air was getting cooler, and dudes were ready to trade in a lengthier setlist for longer jams. Part II began with a great "Tweezer" that evolved into a beautiful and soaring piece of music. And finally, we had a segue, although I was at a loss as to what it was. All I knew was that it sounded new and it sounded good. I learned later on that it indeed was the new "Light." Lemme say that that rendition made me an instant fan as well. So the guys were two for two with the new stuff.

The segue was followed by a pair of pleasing jam vehicles. "Bathtub Gin" and "David Bowie" energized the crowd further before they introduced new song #3: Trey's magnum opus "Time Turns Elastic." I definitely would've appreciated this more if I had downloaded the studio version which was released in the days prior to the show. Going in, I knew nothing of the song, save for part of the chorus ("in and out of focus/time turns elastic"). The crowd seemed to have a hard time getting into it as well, but I would guess that largely it was due to them trying to figure it out as I was. Certainly, the piece sounds very promising, especially since it has several prog rock elements hearkening back to their Junta days. But the 17-minute length definitely left the crowd starving for something familiar once it had concluded. And they didn't fail to please, delivering a solid jam on "Free," followed by another bust-out: "The Ballad of Curtis Lowe," which apparently hadn't been played in 16 years. And, of course, no legendary show would've been complete without "You Enjoy Myself" ("finally!" I shouted to my brother. It had been my prediction for opener, but I settled with it as closer). Halfway through, I sadly had to start heading toward the exit so that I would be able to get out hassle-free and not miss my train from North Station. I did, however, get to see Mike Gordon's tremendous bass solo that led into the vocal jam. Epic.

In short, Set Two trumped the First by a large margin, although I would have gladly traded that Bowie for a "Harry Hood."

Complaints aside, my first time seeing the band live was pretty good. It's actually quite cool that I've finally seen them after years of collecting live shows that I could only wish I had attended. As long as they keep the touring up in years to come, I'm sure I'll see them again. And hell, maybe I'll write 'em in advance to make sure I get a "Harry Hood" or a "Split Open and Melt."

The Paradox of the News Media

This past week, President Obama nominated Sonia Sotomayor to replace Justice David Souter on the Supreme Court. Naturally, there are both supporters and critics of the decision, as there are whenever a President nominates someone whom they want to interpret the law in a certain manner. Thanks in part to our frustratingly bipartisan political system, those on the right are quite skeptical of the pick, just as those on the left were equally critical of G.W. Bush's two picks (John Roberts and Samuel Alito).

I, like every other patriotic American, support this process. Sure, it's not the greatest example of representative democracy, but it ostensibly allows members of Congress to debate over Sotomayor's qualifications and decide whether or not she belongs on the highest court in the land. An intense debate--fueled by the facts and information surrounding Ms. Sotomayor's record--is yet another example of the wonderful "freedom" and "justice" with which this country is blessed.

Yet as the first decade of the 21st century races to its conclusion, we are facing the paradox of the 24-hour, instantaneous news cycle. Although we can access the web from our fancy phones, connect with others sharing the same interest through Twitter or Facebook, and choose from a handful of round-the-clock news programs on cable television, we aren't as well informed as we might believe.

Yes, that may sound like a bold assertion to you, but hear me out. It's been nearly five days since Obama announced his nomination, and in that time the news media has managed to successfully label her a racist. You'd have to scour to find evidence of her judicial record, or even basic biographical information about her. But that stuff doesn't seem pertinent to the news media. In fact, if you've listened to any of the critics wheeled out before the cameras to judge the Justice-to-be, you assuredly know nothing more than Sotomayor's history of "reverse racism." Oh, and the fact that she hates fire fighters.

But how can this be? How on earth could President Obama nominate such an evil, evil woman?

Oh, that's right. She's actually not a racist.

You see, professional blowhards like Sean Hannity, Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck, and other pudgy, middle-aged white males with their own television and radio programs have illustrated Sotomayor's racist record by citing one sentence (yes, one sentence) culled from a speech she delivered at the University of California in 2001. It reads as follows:

"I would hope that a wise Latina woman with the richness of her experiences would more often than not reach a better conclusion than a white male who hasn’t lived that life."

Okay. I've taken a step back. I'm trying to appreciate that quotation from their perspective. I suppose it does look a little damaging, especially when you switch around the two races mentioned within (which, Newt Gingrich contends, would get a white dude fired faster than you can say Sotomayor). Although one could also say that this quotation is more about bringing a diversity of opinions and perspectives to a judicial body. Perhaps we should examine the whole speech in an effort to understand where she was coming from when she said this. I'm sure that professional pundits, who have an obligation to best inform their viewership/readership/listenership took the time to examine Ms. Sotomayor's argument before they made the bold claim that she is a racist.

Oh, wait. It appears that they didn't. How careless of them! She actually was speaking to the benefits of having a variety of perspectives in the judiciary. In nearly the same breath as her supposedly inflammatory quotation, she actually recognized that whites on the Supreme Court have historically made some decisions that positively affected minorities. In fact, she said it a whole hell of a lot more artfully than me. Take a look for yourself:

"I, like Professor Carter, believe that we should not be so myopic as to believe that others of different experiences or backgrounds are incapable of understanding the values and needs of people from a different group. Many are so capable. As Judge Cedarbaum pointed out to me, nine white men on the Supreme Court in the past have done so on many occasions and on many issues including Brown."

Getting back to my main point, the coverage of Sotomayor's nomination is just another example pointing to the rapid devolution of our country's news information. A quick browse of a site like Media Matters for America shows you how many talking heads have parroted this tripe. Rather than news sites providing text of Sotomayor's speech, that one sentence is dragged completely out of context and presented to the public as if it were representative of the woman's entire stance on race. Outlets like CBS News uncritically report on former Vice President Dick Cheney's daughter's opinion of the quote, but don't even bother to mention what Sotomayor's speech was about.

The larger idea that I'm trying to address is that in this age of ubiquitous information, one must be critical of that which they read, hear, or watch. I'm anything but a Luddite, as I actively Twitter and start every morning with a cup of coffee and a perusal of the internet. I take my cell phone with me everywhere and I even maintain a list of the music I listen to so that others in cyberspace can check out my tastes. So I'm not swearing off technology or anything like that. This is just a plea to constantly question the information you receive. We should never part with our curiosity, as it's one of our greatest intellectual traits.

So when you hear someone label Sonia Sotomayor a racist, take it with a grain of salt. Ask why she is labeled a racist, and if you're offered a sound bite in lieu of an answer, determine its source and seek to place it within its context. Not everyone has time to do all of that, I know. But that's all the more reason to be wary of the things you hear in the news media.

More on Phish

Two tickets to see the greatest band to ever grace the planet are sitting on my desk. Did I mention they'll be setting up shop underneath the Green Monster at Fenway Park?

Oh. You're right. I mentioned that in my last post.

Suffice it to say that it's been the number one thing I've been looking forward to during the past few days. It's Tuesday evening as I write this, which means they'll be taking the stage in five days. Yow-zah, yow-zah.

Looks like I'll be going with my brother Matt, who's definitely not the biggest Phish fan you'll ever meet, but I'm fairly certain that he relishes any sort of concert experience. He's seen a lot more shows than me, but I have a feeling I'll be filling him in on the titles of songs in the Phish repertoire.

Speaking of songs, the wife and I were walking the dog this morning and she asked me what I think they'll bust out on Sunday night. Boy, was she sorry she asked. I prattled on for about ten or fifteen minutes. I didn't have predictions, really. I think I came up with a bunch of songs that I would like to see and that I think will have a good chance of being played.

The biggest head-scratcher is the opener. What'll they start the show with? It's safe to say that it won't be "Fluffhead," the soon-to-be-legendary selection they made for their first night back since Coventry. My best guess--which, as the saying goes, is as good as anyone's--is that they'll rock the house with "You Enjoy Myself." If not the opener, I have no doubt that this 25-minute gem will make an appearance somewhere.

I'd also like to see "Reba," but I have a strange feeling that it won't be played at all. Just doesn't seem like the right sort of jam for the venue. I do think a "Split Open and Melt" is a possibility, though, and that would certainly be euphoric for me. "Run Like an Antelope" to close the first set would be predictable but a nice choice. Barring an omission of YEM during the first set, the second set is likely to include either a "David Bowie" or a "Harry Hood." I'm leaning toward the latter, and that would make me happier.

Aside from staples, they'll undoubtedly be introducing new material. Why, just today they've released the first track from their forthcoming album: a 13-minute rendition of Trey's "Time Turns Elastic." I haven't yet heard it in its entirety, but don't you find it oddly coincidental that they launched it five days before Fenway? And since they've been recording the new studio album, there's bound to be another song or two that they want to unleash before the crowd of 40,000+.

I've also tried to think of a song with a baseball theme. When Dave Matthews Band played Fenway in 2006, they covered Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline" in an ode to Fenway's custom of playing the song over the PA system during the seventh inning stretch. Someone suggested "Mound," although it has nothing to do with the game aside from its title. Someone on Twitter also mused that they could play "Centerfield" by John Fogerty. That would simultaneously amuse and delight the CCR fan in me.

Sometime in the next few days, I should really take a stab at drawing up a Fenway setlist. It'd be fun to compete with others, sort of like an NCAA Basketball pool. What would a 16-seed be in the Phish @ Fenway Pool? "Kung"? "Destiny Unbound"?

All I know is that I don't care to see a "Down with Disease" that lasts over 15 minutes. And I'm serious about that.