Month: November 2001

FALLING INTO DISGRACELAND

Post author By Mary Cashiola
Post date November 2, 2001

What with all the ‘thrax going around, I’ve begun to be a little more concerned about all sorts of germs and bacteria. I’ve never been the type of person to mind a little dirt or illness. Sometimes I don’t bother to wash off apples before I eat them, pesticides be damned.

I don’t get a flu shot and I don’t like the idea of taking antibiotics for colds (that whole thing

about the bacteria building immunities and becoming supergerms), so it’s not like I’m running around in a face mask; I’m just concerned.

Let’s put it this way: I’m not concerned enough to go to the trouble of ironing my mail (they say the steam heat kills the spores), but I have been sticking it in the microwave on top of a bowl of water for a few minutes. My VISA bills are scary enough without having to worry about contracting a fatal disease … and I don’t even want to talk about my student loans.

But, it seems, at least from what I’ve seen recently, that the idea of biological warfare is the farthest thing from anyone’s mind. At least when they go out. Or maybe it’s just the appropriate time to party like it’s the end of the world and no one cares about which way they go.

The day before Halloween I attended a private little costume soiree at Not Prince Mongo’s Planet. The music was pumping, the beer was flowing, and about 200 decked-out med students (along with a few med students who weren’t decked out and a few decked-outers who weren’t med students) were getting

their groove on.

And every so often I would go to the bar and get a plastic cup of beer. Then I would weave my way back to the dance floor, take a couple of sips, and set the cup down nearby. I’d do a little shimmy, a little shake, and then reach for my beer again. Only, it would be gone. Whisked away not by an attentive waitstaff but young men and women who might one day be doctors.

I actually watched one girl pick up my cup (and I’m sure it was mine because it had barely left my grasp) and down the contents inside. Luckily, it was one of those fun free beer parties so I didn’t really care. But when it kept happening, I got a little concerned. What if I had put something in that? I didn’t and I wouldn’t, but they didn’t know whose drink that was (except for one time, when I was leaning on a railing with my drink right next to me, inches away from my arm even, when it got swiped; or it might have fallen off the railing, I’m not sure, but I think it was swiped). What

if it had roofies in it? Or some sort of terrorist addition? It sounds unlikely, but who would have thought people would be sending anthrax through the U.S. Mail? (Yes, I am obsessed with all the anthrax stuff. I’m in the media, after all, and if you’ve seen the coverage, you know that media types love the ‘thrax.)

Actually it seems as if all of my Halloween festivities (I dragged it out from Friday last until Wednesday) were sort of illness- or injury-inducing. I walked around Beale in perhaps the least amount of clothing I’ve worn in a while, barring when I’m in the shower. And it was not warm. I tried to get into the Have A Nice Day Cafe without waiting in line but was

promptly shut down (they let us in about five minutes later).

And I went to that big party on Stonewall last Saturday, you know, the one they have every

year. Shane Battier was there, as well as everyone in Midtown between the ages of 21 and 50. Anyway, I got there pretty late (they warned us at the door they only had 4 kegs left — out of about 30 or something ridiculous like that — and that we should head straight to the beer) and the dance platform was looking a little worse for the wear. One spot in particular seemed a little weak; every time I dipped, it actually felt like I might dip all the way through.

Not to mention the fact that I found the food truck as they were making everyone leave and go to Raiford’s. It had been mostly picked over by then and the only thing left was a large platter of crab meat (it might have been imitation, I don’t know). I looked at it and thought, This might have needed to be refrigerated. Oh, well. Then I popped a couple of pieces in my mouth. I was hungry.

I know, incidents like that make it obvious I’m totally going out like that sad Mama Cass joke. I’m going to be crashing someone’s private party buffet at the Hard Rock Cafe and choke on a chicken finger or something. I guess it could happen at any time, so I might as well party like it’s the end of the world all the time. I mean, who knows, really? (I just listened to an insurance pitch, by the way.) Even something as mundane as those apple pesticides could be my downfall.

That is, of course, unless the anthrax gets me first.

Sports Sports Feature

GRIZZLIES DROP HOME OPENER, 80-90

Post author By Andria Lisle
Post date November 2, 2001

Here’s an NBA adage: Don’t worry about how you play the game. Worry about how you finish the game.

In a night of beginnings, the end of the game turned sour for the Memphis Grizzlies in a 90-80 loss to the Detroit Pistons.

More specifically, Pistons star Jerry Stackhouse and his 15 fourth-quarter points turned the home opener into a lost cause. Stackhouse would lead all scorers with 34 points in the game. The Pistons also received 24 points from forward Clifford Robinson.

The Grizzlies started strongly in their Memphis stand, leading at the half 36-43 and also leading by as much as twelve points during the game. The squad relied on a balanced effort by its starters as center Lorenzen Wright scored 17 points and pulled in 13 rebounds, forward Stromile Swift scored 16 points and pulled in 10 rebounds, guard Jason Williams scored 11 points and passed out seven assists, and as guard Michael Dickerson scored 15 points.

Swift’s game didn’t take off until the second half when he drew three straight fouls from Detroit center Ben Wallace, limiting Wallace’s production in the game. Wright worked the entire game though he started slow against Robinson’s defensive efforts. Dickerson struggled the entire night, looking unable to create his shot rather than to take advantage of catch and shoot situations. And not only was Williams quieter that usual, he also gave up four critical turnovers in the last five minutes to allow Stackhouse to put his team up for good.

Most quiet was rookie forward Shane Battier who scored only seven points and pulled down seven rebounds. During the pre-season, Battier made up for his lack of productivity with stellar defensive efforts. This game ended with Battier registering no steals and no blocks.

“It was a choppy game,” Battier said of both teams’ performance. “There was no flow to the game. Neither team hit its shots.”

Head coach Sidney Lowe said after the game that ending the game poorly was not as distressing as letting the Pistons back in the game. “I’m more disappointed that we had a 12 point lead [and lost it],” Lowe said. “If we took care of business there, we wouldn’t have been in that position at the end of the game. We threw the ball away.”

The Grizzlies have little time to contemplate the loss as they travel to Minnesota for a game this evening, Friday, November 2nd. The team returns home on Sunday, November 2nd for a contest against the Dallas Mavericks at the Pyramid at 2 p.m.

News The Fly-By

BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE LETTERS J, I, H, A, AND D

Post author By Chris Davis
Post date November 1, 2001

Just when you thought Nightmarez on the Square was going to be the most terrifying event of the Halloween weekend, along comes something even scarier. The Children s Television Workshop s traveling extravaganza Sesame Street Live will be pulling into town Thursday,October 25th, for a four-day run at The Pyramid. Cookie Monster will be on hand to gobble cookies. Big Bird will flap his flightless wings, and Oscar the Grouch will play with his pet worm.

But what about the recently maligned Bert? Will the cranky yellow muppet dare to show his pointy head in public after recent AP photographs connected him to terrorist mastermind Osama bin Laden? According to press materials he will. The muppet s official bio suggests that he s not such a bad guy after all, claiming Bert is analytical, responsible, and the complete and utter opposite of his eccentric roommate and best friend, Ernie. When he s not playing checkers with his pigeon Bernice, Bert, a true model of dignity and decorum, spends his days collecting bottle caps and paper clips. Collecting bottle caps and paper clips, huh? We ve heard a muppet can do a lot of damage with bottle caps and paper clips, providing he has the know-how.

News News Feature

HOLD THE LINE

Post author By Andria Lisle
Post date November 1, 2001

Three Memphis attorneys have filed a class-action lawsuit against BellSouth, alleging that the telephone service provider negligently and fraudulently failed to inform qualified Tennesseans of the Lifeline discount program.

Bill Ray, BellSouth’s assistant vice president for external affairs for East and West Tennessee, told the Flyer that BellSouth has a policy against discussing pending litigation.

The Memphis attorneys, William F. Burns, R. Douglas Hanson, and Murray B. Wells, all of whom work for the firm of Glassman, Edwards, Wade and Wyatt, filed the complaint on behalf of Rebecca Gray, Margaret Rogers, and Hazel Cain. Each of these named plaintiffs claims to have specifically asked BellSouth representatives to include them in the Lifeline program but each says she was told that the program did not exist.

“One of our plaintiffs moved here from California and had been on Lifeline there,” says Wells, one of the attorneys representing the group. “She called BellSouth and asked specifically for the Lifeline program and was told that it was not offered in Tennessee.”

Wells also says the firm is currently seeking additional plaintiffs who are qualified for but not enrolled in Lifeline to add to the lawsuit.

Lifeline and Link-Up are programs jointly funded by the state and federal governments to provide residential phone service for about $8 a month to qualified Tennesseans. Anyone currently receiving Supplemental Social Security Income, Temporary Assistance for Needy Families, food stamps, or Medicaid or anyone whose gross monthly income is equal to or less than 125 percent of the federal poverty level is eligible.

To fund the state portion of Lifeline, the Tennessee Regulatory Authority ordered BellSouth in 1991 to inflate its rates for all telephone lines by an additional fraction of a cent. Since 1991 BellSouth has collected this money from all Tennessee customers, though statewide only 36,000 qualified recipients are currently enrolled.

Music Music Features

AFTER THE GOLD RUSH

Post author By Andria Lisle
Post date November 1, 2001

I fell in love with Ryan Adams the moment I first heard his voice. It was in the early fall of ’97 and I was driving down Highway 61, 50 miles south of Memphis.

I popped in a mix tape someone had mailed me, and Adams’ voice suddenly filled my car: “I try not to think/’Cause if I sit and drink/Then I’ll go crazy.” I cranked up the volume, wanting more: “In the daytime I’m lonesome/In the nighttime I’m sad.”

Pulling off the highway, I scanned the homemade tape cover — the song was called “Desperate Ain’t Lonely,” and the name of the band was Whiskeytown. I listened, rewound the tape, listened again. And when I quit crying enough that I could see the road through my windshield, I headed to the nearest liquor store.

Two musician friends of mine had died that summer, and I was alone, drifting from my many friends who couldn’t possibly — in my mind — comprehend what I had lost. This band, and the boy who led it, Ryan Adams, a man-child really — he was 20 when he cut Whiskeytown’s Faithless Street, which included “Desperate Ain’t Lonely” — knew what I felt. They knew it and he sang it, for me and for all the brokenhearted souls.

When I sobered up, I did some research on Whiskeytown. They had two albums out, Faithless Street and the brooding Stranger’s Almanac, both refreshing additions to the then-burgeoning alt-country scene. Ryan Adams — who alleged that Whiskeytown was his second choice for a band name; he preferred Sin City — was the frontman and the group’s centrifugal force. World-weary beyond his years, Adams’ lyrics, sung in an achingly tender drawl, brought admirers by the truckload. Meanwhile, his offstage antics — many of which included a whiskey bottle and provided fodder for new material — drove his bandmates away.

I have a soft spot for self-medicated, despairing guitar players. My record collection boasts albums by the best of them — Townes Van Zandt, Alex Chilton, Gram Parsons. But I’d never heard someone so young who could reach me so easily. Adams’ voice was a lifesaver tossed from a raft just as I thought I was going under. He rescued me.

So I stayed in Memphis and wrote and drank and listened to music, and Adams eventually quit Whiskeytown (the band’s final album, Pneumonia, was recorded in 1999 but wasn’t released until this year) and embarked on a very successful solo career. He left his native North Carolina for Nashville, then New York, then Los Angeles, a series of travails beautifully documented on Heartbreaker, his 2000 solo debut. “I miss my family,” he sings on “Oh My Sweet Carolina,” “All the sweetest winds/They blow across the South.” Pop songs and power ballads have replaced the alt-country twang as Adams has matured, yet he remembers what it’s like to be young and alone — songs like “To Be Young (Is to Be Sad, Is to Be High)” and “To Be the One” make it painstakingly clear.

Despite being recorded in Nashville with a bevy of special guests — Gillian Welch and Emmylou Harris among them — Heartbreaker is known as “the New York album” because it deals with a love lost on the streets of that city.

Gold, Adams’ latest release, is called “the Los Angeles album,” the title a reference to “what the buildings and streets look like in L.A. when the sun goes down.”Lyrically, most things haven’t changed. Adams is still putting his heart on the line — and oftentimes getting it busted in the process. The eloquent “La Cienega Just Smiled” conjures up a lovelorn boy who awakens when the sun goes down, only to spend his nights in a bar nursing his broken heart. “Feels so good but damn it makes me hurt,” a familiar refrain in a foreign landscape: Musically, Adams has gone Hollywood.

Heartbreaker laid the path for Gold, so it’s hardly a surprise when the first notes of ’70s-inspired pop come blasting through the speakers. Adams’ ebullience is infectious, particularly on tunes like “Firecracker,” where he moans, “I just wanna burn up hard and bright/I just wanna be your firecracker/And maybe be your baby tonight.” But his style changes as often as the fashions on Rodeo Drive — and his influences are a little too obvious.

On “Answering Bell,” Adams is, well, a dead ringer for Van Morrison, while shades of Elton John, the Rolling Stones, and Neil Young shine through on Gold as well. With Gold, he’s gotten complete freedom, including a major-label deal where he calls the shots. It’s like giving a child a key to the candy store — Adams is so busy tasting everything that he can’t focus on any one variety. Nevertheless, he has the talent — and tenacity — to pull it off, and he will probably even gain fans. There is something for everyone on Gold.

All that aside, Gold is an ambitious and passionate record. And with the album’s closer, “Goodnight Hollywood Blvd.,” Adams ultimately redeems himself. On paper, the lyrics don’t add up to much. But his contemptuous delivery, sparsely backed with piano and strings, evokes a cynicism that belies his fascination with the City of Angels.

According to Adams, the 16 tracks that eventually became Gold display his newfound self-acceptance. “The songs aren’t self-loathing or self-destructive. This record is about making amends with things and really facing them. And it’s more upbeat because I think I’m giving myself some air to breathe,” he revealed in a New York Times interview. “I do think the process of forgiving myself is really evident on this one.”

Adams and I have each traveled a lot of physical — and spiritual — miles since 1997. We’ve both become more comfortable in our respective skins, and our hangovers are fewer and less desperate. Life is good. Oh, I still listen to Townes and Gram — and Whiskeytown, too. But I’ve made amends as well — and like Ryan Adams, I plan to stay Gold.