Rodeo Rob's Golden Bull Awards 2001
2001's hits and misses
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Let's see...it's really cold, it's threatening to snow and the Redskins are out of the playoffs. That can only mean one thing: It's early January in Washington, D.C. Well, technically the Redskins never made the playoffs, causing this die-hard fan another long winter of suffering until the Orioles tee it up again in April. But that's another story altogether.
This time of year also brings us to the 17th Annual Rodeo Rob Golden Bull Awards for Achievement in the Fine Art of Music. What's that you say? You've never heard of the Rodeo Rob Golden Bull awards? Well, that's a minor technicality. Hell, everyone else gets their own year-end awards, why not me?
So strap on those boots and try to hold on for 8.5 seconds, as we're live from a sub-zero basement studio apartment in the heart of the indie rock capital of the free world, Washington D.C. (I've also been told that D.C. is the capital of something else too, but if anyone saw the Redskins play this year, I can tell you that it ain't football).
Album of the year: Honeydogs, Here's Luck
This was a tough call. Certainly there were albums that had bigger impact on my life (see Scott Miller's Thus Always To Tyrants and Joe Strummer's Global-A-Go-Go), and there were others that I've simply grown to like better, but this album just had something, a little dash of that underappreciated quality in this Napster-influenced society of ours where we can download albums and listen to them on our computer at work in a matter of minutes.
Here's Luck has liveability. And while I realize that's not really a word, it's a quality in music that goes unrecognized all too often nowadays. To me, liveability marks an album that you just can't stop listening to. For months. And without even knowing it. This album, for one, was in my five-disc CD player for nearly five months. No, I didn't listen to it every day, but it was just always there. And it was always friendly and seemed to get more comfortable with each listen. There's no breathtaking musicianship, no world-changing lyrics, nothing I would even consider a brilliant song (not that you could tell from my lofty review, though). But when all is said and done, Here's Luck got more mileage than my Chevy Metro, which is really saying something.
However, if we're talking about impact, this next award is for you.
Most Valuable Record: Scott Miller & the Commonwealth, Thus Always To Tyrants
Here's the big impact award. This award goes to the album that knocked your socks off when you first heard it: an album you couldn't imagine living without. And this album is it. Let's put this into some context: I had never heard of Scott Miller six or seven months ago, but after seeing him in concert on a road trip to Nashville, Tennessee, I've since bought his entire catalog. As they say in romance, he had me at "Hello."
Good, old-fashioned rock, exquisite country twang, and songs about the town I went to college in. That's something I can relate to. This is an album that doesn't make apologies, as Miller (who hails the Shenandoah Valley deep in the mountains of Virginny) celebrates his southern heritage but, as he says in the album's opener "Down the Line," "sometimes it's meant to be just that." It's an album about growing up, leaving home and getting by. Oh, and drinking beer, lying, cheating, stealing and -- as with any good country rock album -- God.
Its funny -- I figured an album like this would've come from my man from Whiskeytown, Ryan Adams. You see, I can call him "my man" because I interviewed him once. But Adams is the winner of another award, and I don't think he'll like it..
Most Disturbing Trend Award: Ryan Adams
First off, I should say that I gave Gold, Adams' second solo album, a very good review. Heck, it's a good album. But let's just say it's a bit on the L-O-N-G side. I think Adams, who has won nothing but critical praise since his Whiskeytown debut in 1995, is beginning to believe his own press, and is getting a little too much into being the media's golden child.
Everyone knows the man has a reputation for writing songs more often than Redskins quarterback Tony Banks fumbles the snap, but that doesn't mean they're all good. And that doesn't mean that we want to hear them all, especially at 3 o'clock in the morning on a Friday night in a sold-out 9:30 Club.
I think Ryan's got some growing up to do and is in real need of a reality check because he's just going to spread himself too thin if he keeps up this pace. And his writing is going to suffer, if it hasn't already.
And keeping in line with the negative awards...
Disappointment of the Year: Lucinda Williams, Essence
Man, this is a depressing album. I mean, that's not to say that her 1998 masterpiece Car Wheels On A Gravel Road would make her a candidate for Inspirational Speaker of the Year, but Essence is just absurd. Even the music is a downer. Slow, plodding and horribly quiet, it's almost like Lucinda was afraid to wake up her neighbors while she recorded the album.
People said she wrote this album in record time: three years. Well, maybe she should really take her time next go around.
It's a shame too, because Car Wheels> was such a brilliant album. But maybe she just wants to win the next award in a few years?
The LL Cool J "Don't Call It A Comeback" Honorary Award: Joe Strummer
Well, Joe has been here for years, so I guess he didn't really have a comeback. But damn if his Global-A-Go-Go isn't one fine album for an old punk rocker. I thought of other rock veterans to hand this award to, like maybe Mick Jagger, Ian Hunter or Paul McCartney, but realized something when I saw Joe in concert last summer. You see, Joe is still relevant, which really says something about a man who, after waking up the music scene with the Clash in the late '70s and early '80s, basically dropped off the face of the earth for nearly 15 years.
Global-A-Go-Go is that special album that satisfied the aging punk rockers, but also hit a note with the kids. His concert in Washington in September was filled with all ages, literally 15 to 50. And everybody dug every minute, from the old school "Rudie Can't Fail" to new tunes like "Bhindi Bhaghee."
Don't call it a comeback, but it did take balls to play his 1977 punk rock classic "London's Burning" with band members probably more worried about retirement than the boredom of adolescence. And if its balls you're looking for, this next award is right up your alley?
The Ron Jeremy Balls of Steel Award: Jeff Tweedy
While the events of last September certainly redefined words like courage and bravery, Jeff Tweedy's balls must've swelled to the size of grapefruits last year. You see, he not only did a small solo tour early in the year, he also kicked long-time drummer Ken Coomer out of Wilco, left his record company, parted ways with songwriting partner Jay Bennett, pulled off an ill-timed U.S. tour with no album to support, and filmed the entire process.
That, my friends, takes balls. And while the rewards of such bravado have yet to be reaped, he certainly is not resting on his laurels. For me, seeing Wilco not even months removed from leaving their label and losing Jay Bennett in concert in D.C. -- a mere two weeks after September 11 -- was, well, practically amazing. Not that the show was incredible, just the fact that a great rock band went ahead with their tour in the midst of such chaos, and not to mention their own personal troubles.
Now we come to the awards handed out "earlier in the evening":
Trooper of the Year: Adam Levy of the Honeydogs.
Not only did Adam subject himself to a droning interview with yours truly, but he did it after putting up with a drunken version of me after their show in Arlington last March. Not that I made a spectacle out of myself, I just asked him stupid questions like: "Is it this cold in Minnesota right now?" Keep in mind, it WAS freezing, but what kind of a question is that? He also put me on the guestlist for a show in Baltimore and actually remembered me. How's that for surreal?
Most surreal thing I saw/heard at a concert: Victoria Williams stopping her afternoon show in Arlington, Virginia, because of flooding. Yep, flooding.
Most predictable thing I saw/heard at a concert: Black '47. Seen 'em once, seen 'em a million times. I'm beginning to think I could write their set list now.
Stupidest thing I heard a rock star say in concert: Ryan Adams, telling the sold-out crowd at the 9:30 club at 2:30 am that he "don't care about no jihad motherfucker." Thanks for sharing, Ryan.
Worst concert: Last Train Home. Don't get me started. I repeat, DO NOT GET ME STARTED.
Best fluke purchase at the used CD store: The Gourds, Stadium Blitzer.
Worst long-anticipated purchase at the used CD store: Mark Olson, My Own Jo Ellen. Not bad, just not worth the wait.
Coolest thing I heard a rock star say in concert: Ian Hunter -- while he was singing "Cleveland Rocks" in Baltimore, someone yelled out "Baltimore Rocks!" Ian's response? "Baltimore rocks? Did you see the Orioles play this year? How about, 'The Orioles suck'."
Well, that about wraps up the show. Time to bear down and get ready for another crazy year and before you know it, we'll be back in town for the 18th Annual RodeoRob awards.
RODEO ROB | An expert on all things "alt," Rob spends his days covering the energy industry and his nights covering the DC-area bars. Raise yer glass especially high to this man, for he has contributed to this site constantly since its creation four years ago.