Tigris & Euphrates app.

Codito is the development group behind Tikal, Puerto Rico, Medici, and Ra, solid offerings but none earning top marks from me. Their latest offering, Reiner Knizia’s Tigris & Euphrates, is their best boardgame app yet, adapting a classic 1997 boardgame from Knizia in an attractive format with a strong tutorial and (I think) very solid AI opponents. It went on sale today for $5.99.

I haven’t played the physical version of the game or reviewed it here, so if you haven’t played it, here’s an overview of the game, ranked 13th overall on Boardgamegeek. Tigris & Euphrates uses an unusual tile system where players are represented on the board by icon rather than color – that is, every player has a red leader, but each player’s red leader has his unique symbol on it. Players build “kingdoms” of adjacent tiles in each of four colors (red, green, blue, black) on a board that includes land spaces and river spaces, the latter along two rivers representing those of the game’s title. Players acquire points by placing leaders on the board and then placing regular tiles in those colors in the same kingdom as their leader(s). For example, if you have a black leader in a kingdom and place a black tile anywhere within that kingdom – contiguous with the leader tile – you earn a point in black. Players earn points in each of the four colors, and the winner is the player with the highest low score. In other words, the score that matters most is your worst score across the four colors.

You can also earn points by making a 2×2 square of tiles of the same color and converting it into a two-color “monument” that produces one point per turn in each of those two colors, awarded to the leaders in the same kingdom. And you can earn “treasures,” wild-card points that can be added to your score in any of the four colors, which the app automatically assigns to your current worst color.

On each turn, a player has two actions, which can include placing a tile, placing a leader, swapping any of the tiles from his hand for new ones, or placing one of two “catastrophe” tiles that destroy the tiles (not leaders) on which they’re placed.

Of course, there’s conflict as players compete to control various kingdoms with their leader tokens. You can place one of your leaders on a kingdom with another player’s leader in that same color, triggering a “revolt” that is resolved by the use of red tiles on the board and from your hand, regardless of the color at stake. Conflicts also arise when kingdoms are merged through tile placement; the leader with the most tiles of the same color currently in its kingdom, supplemented with tiles from that player’s hand, wins the conflict. The loser of either kind of battle removes his leader from the board.

I’ve glossed over a few details, but the key takeaway if you’ve never played the game is that each player has to balance a number of different variables: boost your lowest score, protect your existing leaders, build your hand tiles (you get six at any time) to attack an opponent, watch opponents’ lowest scores and try to sabotage them, and so on. It’s very rich, and once you play a game or two, actually quite simple to play despite the seemingly long list of rules. Knizia’s games are often subtly complex yet very intuitive on the surface, and Tigris & Euphrates qualifies as well.

The app is outstanding. The board is extremely clear and easy to navigate on the iPad; the icons on tiles are very clear, and it’s easy to see what you have available to you at any given time, as well as the percentage of the tile stack remaining. Leaders are labeled with a number indicating their current strength. Conflict resolution is straightforward and the game includes optional confirmation dialog boxes for any move, which prevents you from accidentally tanking the game through an incorrect move. You can undo either or both of your previous moves before you end your turn, unless the move was a conflict that has now been resolved. (One quibble: When playing only AI opponents, you still can’t undo a resolved conflict; since playing AI players is more like training or an extended tutorial, this might be a nice feature to have so you can get a feel for the success rates of conflicts.) Most importantly, your point totals are clear and obvious, with your current low score highlight, and the app handles the treasures for you.

I’ve found the AI players to be strong enough to keep the game challenging. There are five difficulty levels, and after waxing two low-level AIs in my first game I dialed both up to four … and then lost seven straight times. (At least.) The eventual victory, followed by a victory against two level-five AIs, were quite satisfying. There’s some predictability even in the harder AIs, especially early in the game, but their strength is that they don’t miss obvious moves and don’t hesitate to attack via all three methods (revolt, merging kingdoms, catastrophes). I’d like to try this online, but as a standalone app it’s very strong because the AI players are so well-designed. The game also comes with one of the longest, most detailed tutorials I’ve come across, reminiscent of the one in Samurai, which would be my previous gold standard for app tutorials. It takes a while, but it’s worth it.

I’ve ranked boardgame apps without grading them, but I’d say the inner circle of apps – where the underlying game is strong; the app runs well, looks good, and plays easily; the AI players are strong; and online multiplayer works – would now include five games (links go to reviews): Carcassonne, Samurai, Battle Line, Ticket to Ride, and Tigris & Euphrates. This most recent addition is the most complex of the five for those of you looking for a more hardcore experience, but plays reasonably quickly, with three-player games against two AI opponents taking me 15-17 minutes. I highly recommend it if you’re slightly obsessed with these games, as I am.

Full disclosure: I received a free version of this app from the developers prior to its release. Also, would anyone object to me including T&E on the forthcoming updated board game rankings, even though I haven’t played the physical game?

It Can’t Happen Here.

Every man is a king so long as he has someone to look down on.

Sinclair Lewis’ It Can’t Happen Here is the best-known of his works after he won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1930 (making him the first American author so honored, although they resumed their habit of giving the award to western Europeans the following year). It’s a protest novel, less purely literary than his classic novels of the 1920s (led by Arrowsmith, Babbitt, and Main Street), while angrier and livelier and a faster read.

It Can’t Happen Here melds two protests into one. Lewis depicts a United States leading up to and in the first few years after the 1936 election, where the nation seems to wilfully ignore the tyranny and pending genocide happening in Europe, and is also ripe for the rise of a demagogue of its own, a role filled by Berzelius “Buzz” Wintrip. Wintrip, a blowhard right-wing senator who spouts populist nonsense aimed at propelling himself to the White House, is backed up by Lee Sarason, the brains of the operation to elect Wintrip and a man who similarly desires power but does so for different ends. Wintrip’s ascension to President and establishment of his own dictatorship comes despite the claims of several characters early in the book that what happened in Germany and Italy “can’t happen here.”

Doremus Jessup, a liberal newspaper editor in a small town in Vermont, stands as one of the few voices of reason before Wintrip’s election, stating quite clearly that it can. He is the book’s great moral center despite a lack of moralizing; his goals are fundamental and based not on orthodoxy or theology, but on simple concepts of basic human rights and dignity. He also knows a charlatan when he sees one, and fears Wintrip’s rise because he recognizes that human nature will push him into office and then will allow the same people who voted for him to be ruled by his iron fist.

Jessup’s observations and Lewis’ simultaneous use of broad and fine strokes to define his setting give the book such tremendous staying power, so that even seventy-five years after its publication, Jessup’s observations (these before the election) still seem so familiar today:

“Remember our war hysteria, when we called sauerkraut ‘Liberty cabbage‘ and somebody actually proposed calling German measles ‘Liberty measles?’ And wartime censorship of honest papers? Bad as Russia! Remember our kissing the – well, the feet of Billy Sunday, the million-dollar evangelist, and of Aimee McPherson, who swam from the Pacific Ocean clear into the Arizona desert and got away with it? Remember Voliva and Mother Eddy? … Remember our Red scares and our Catholic scares, when all well-informed people knew that the O.G.P.U. were hiding out in Oskaloosa, and the Republicans campaigning against Al Smith told the Carolina moutnaineers that if Al won the Pope would illegitimatize their Children? Remember Tom Heflin and Tom Dixon? Remember when the hick legislators in certain states, in obedience to William Jennings Bryan, who learned his biology from his pious old grandma, set up shop as scientific experts and made the whole world laugh itself sick by forbidding the teaching of evolution? … Remember the Kentucky night-riders? Remember how trainloads of people have gone to enjoy lynchings? (…) Why, where in all history has there ever been a people so ripe for dictatorship as ours!”

I don’t remember those incidents, and a few of the names were completely unfamiliar to me, but I remember Freedom fries, and I remember the Kansas evolution hearings, and I remember a whisper campaign about the religion of a major party Presidential candidate, and I remember hearing a crowd cheer the governor who mentioned the 234 executions during his tenure, and I don’t really think anything is all that different today from the nation Sinclair described 75 years ago. We have more money and better toys and the tremendous degree of freedom afforded by the Internet, but we are still the same people subject to the same forces of persuasion.

The downside of Lewis’ anger is that he spends so much time setting up his alternate history and having the narrator and/or Jessup verbally knock it down that the personal part of the plot comes in fits and starts. Wintrip is elected and within hours declares martial law and begins a Khmer Rouge-like process of rolling back the clock on progress while rounding up enemies, real and potential, a process that accelerates as time passes and leads to the introduction of concentration camps. Jessup joins the opposition, supported by a government-in-exile based out of Canada, as do several members of his family and his circle of friends and business associates (with a few turncoat exceptions, including his son), with largely predictable results. There’s some narrative greed from the macro storyline as unrest begins to build locally and nationally, and more from the government’s reactions to Jessup’s treason, but the two storylines aren’t well-blended. When I was fifteen, I would have been riveted by things like descriptions of how Wintrip abolished the states and established new subdivisions to the country, but now I find them boring.

The other problem with It Can’t Happen Here is inherent to the genre of protest/dystopian novels – you know where they’re going. The individual rebels, ends up arrested, some people close to him will suffer or be killed, he’ll get out of prison, and so on. 1984, written thirteen years later, follows a similar structure but spends far less time on the political storyline and far more on Winston Smith himself. The timeless nature of Lewis’ observations on human nature and American culture balance out these flaws, but you have to be ready for a little preaching, as in these (very reasonable) lines from Jessup:

“I am convinced that everything that is worth while in the world has been accomplished by the free, inquiring, critical spirit, and that the preservation of this spirit is more important than any social system whatsoever. But the men of ritual and the men of barbarism are capable of shutting up the men of science and of silencing them forever.”

That could refer to battles today over stem cell research or vaccination, or to the murder of Hypatia sixteen centuries ago. I’d give Lewis a 50 for storyline, but a 60 for his incisive take on the baser side of our nature.

Next up: A change of pace to some non-fiction – Donal O’Shea’s The Poincare Conjecture: In Search of the Shape of the Universe, the story of the history and solution to another one of mathematics’ most famous problems, which lay unsolved for a hundred years (despite many attempts) until an eccentric Russian came up with a proof, only to decline the accolades that came with it. It’s a “bargain book” right now on Amazon at $6.38 new.

Podcast and Michael Ruhlman’s books.

I did a solo Baseball Today podcast today, featuring Joe Sheehan talking free agency with me (including a diversion on the way teams view the catching position) and Michael Ruhlman talking food.

Michael’s newest book is Ruhlman’s Twenty: 20 Techniques 100 Recipes A Cook’s Manifesto, an absolute must-own (I say that having owned it for inside of 24 hours). It’s a cookbook, but it’s more like an instruction manual for your kitchen, emphasizing fundamental techniques that will make everyone a better cook.

His previous cookbook, which also gets at fundamentals, was the indispensable Ratio: The Simple Codes Behind the Craft of Everyday Cooking, which I reviewed early last year.

Michael first entered the world of food writing not as a cookbook author, but as a writer of food stories, especially those around chefs and chef culture, including The Soul of a Chef: The Journey Toward Perfection (reviewed here) and The Making of a Chef: Mastering Heat at the Culinary Institute of America, the latter of which is the book Michael mentioned on the show that had him shadowing students at the Culinary Institute of America and eventually cooking alongside them.

And, of course, Michael has co-authored several cookbooks with uberchef Thomas Keller, including the cookbook for Keller’s flagship restaurant, The French Laundry Cookbook. I’ve never seen this book myself, although there are several recipes from it in the back of Soul of a Chef that look amazing and intimidating all at once.

Finally, I recommend Michael’s blog for frequent recipes and ramblings on cooking, restaurants, and how we think about food.

Top 100 songs of the 2000s (decade).

In January of 2010 I threw together a ranking of the top 40 songs of the first decade of the 2000s, strictly my personal opinion, and realized pretty quickly after posting it that I’d done an awful job. I just didn’t follow music closely enough through the entire decade to craft a credible list, even within the usual confines of my own musical tastes. I got a bunch of suggestions from readers for new artists or songs to check out, and for the last year and a half have been keeping a running tally of songs that might belong on an updated ranking, which I present to you here. I’m hoping I did a better job this time.

The list is limited to songs released between January 1, 2000, and December 31, 2009 – I did my best to verify dates. Linked song titles go to amazon; I’ve included links to videos where they’re notable or the song is not that widely known. Please send your complaints that I have too many British artists on here to /dev/null. Actually, send all your complaints there.

100. the xx – “Islands.” I have ridiculed them for being too quiet and verging on boring, and I do stand by that – their Mercury Prize-winning debut album couldn’t hold my attention except for two songs, “Crystallized” and this one, which features one of the most clever videos I’ve seen in recent years.

99. Basement Jaxx – “Where’s Your Head At.” A phenomenal video and one of the best electronica songs of the decade, but my faulty memory put it on their 1999 debut album, Remedy. And hey, isn’t that Patton Oswalt? (No – no, it’s not.)

98. Bloc Party – “Banquet.” (video) From their acclaimed debut album Silent Alarm, “Banquet” – written in B-flat minor, according to Wikipedia (which is never wrong) – always felt to me like a new Wire or Gang of Four track, even with all the Cure/Joy Division comparisons the band received from critics.

97. TV on the Radio – “Wolf Like Me.” It does kind of figure that the only TV on the Radio song I like is far and away their most conventional song; their more typical, experimental stuff leaves me cold. Maybe I’d be a lousy music critic as a result, but this is the song I want on my iPod.

96. The Avett Brothers – “Kick Drum Heart.” I am supposed to love these guys because I like Mumford and Sons, but the only tracks of theirs I’ve liked are this and “I And Love and You.” However, if you do like the Avett Brothers, let me again recommend Tin Cup Gypsy, whom I saw in concert this past weekend – similar music, outstanding musicians, and stunning harmonies.

95. The Wombats – “Let’s Dance To Joy Division.” If the Arctic Monkeys wrote an upbeat song with depressing lyrics about the archetype of the depressing band, you’d get this.

94. Elefant – “Lolita.” A good song about a great novel. Elefant lead singer Diego Garcia put out a solo album of Argentine-influenced music this spring.

93. Queens of the Stone Age – “Little Sister.” (video) Almost a pop song from these guys – Josh Homme gets far too little credit for his ability to craft a memorable, radio-friendly hook – paying homage to the song of the same name recorded by Elvis Presley, but, sadly, no apparent connection to the great novel of the same name by Raymond Chandler.

92. The Vincent Black Shadow – “Metro.” Named for a famous motorcycle, the VBS still exist but without the lead singer, Cassandra Snow, who made this song what it is with her double-time staccato delivery, telling the story in mock-comic tones of a mental breakdown over a punk-ska backdrop.

91. Stereo MC’s – “We Belong In This World Together.” Not their best effort, but the best of their efforts after Connected, the album that put them on the map.

90. The Dandy Warhols – “We Used To Be Friends.” Yes, the theme to Veronica Mars, although I never did like that show (not for lack of trying it).

89. Cold War Kids – “Hang Me Up To Dry.” The lyrics struck me as mostly nonsense, but I love the menacing feel to the sparse music, especially the bass line that introduces the song.

88. Franz Ferdinand – “The Dark Of The Matinée.” Hook-laden as usual, with lines like “leave this academic factory,” how could you lose?

87. Air – “Cherry Blossom Girl.” I’m not quite sure what to call Air – “Radio #1” was sort of alternative rock-ish, but “Girl” is this soft, ethereal ballad that might fit on adult contemporary radio. I give them credit for making an X-rated video that 1) wasn’t going to get any play anywhere and 2) uses pornography in a way that seems anti-pornographic. Apparently the video was directed by a porn director noted for his idiosyncratic style, making it more impressive that he would paint such an unflattering view of his own industry.

86. Killers – “Somebody Told Me.” Almost a grudging inclusion – I have never understood the critical fuss over these guys, although I understand their popularity given how watered-down their pop-rock is. Remember their (likely fake) feud with the Bravery? It was the alternative equivalent to the Backstreet Boys versus N*SYNC. Anyway, this was their first and biggest hit and, to my ears, the least saccharine.

85. Big Pink – “Dominos.” (video) I’ll admit the lyrics annoy me – they sit somewhere in the intersection of obnoxious and mildly misogynistic – but the chorus gets stuck in my head for weeks at a time, and the drum lines seem like they owe a debt to John Bonham.

84. Oasis – “Go Let It Out.” The decade saw plenty of output from these guys, nearly all of it disappointing, neither as original as Definitely Maybe and What’s the Story, Morning Glory nor as over-the-top as Be Here Now. This song was the closest to the formula of their first two albums as they have come since the century ended.

83. Gomez – “Silence.” (video). A few years too early, perhaps? Or just too British? Seems like the kind of indie-rock song that should have found a home on US alternative radio. I always liked the lines “So why’d I sit on my hands like a book on a shelf/When nothing but dust is falling?,” probably because I like any imagery involving books on shelves.

82. Interpol – “PDA.” Still the most dead-on Joy Division imitation I’ve ever heard – and I mean that in the best way possible. I’ve liked plenty of Interpol singles, but the competing guitar lines behind the bridge of leading into the driving, muted chorus give “PDA” a melancholy tone few other rock songs match.

81. Stone Temple Pilots – “Glide.” The whole album – recorded between jail stints for Scott Weiland – was solid, including the heavy opening track “Down,” but the psychedelic “Glide” and the somber ballad “Atlanta” were the two that broke the group out of their narrow box of 70s-infused alternative rock.

80. Modest Mouse – “Float On.” The alternative rock equivalent of Johnny Damon or Javier Vazquez – a song without a peak (this was never something I was skipping through my iPod playlist to hear) but that has held its value for years after release.

79. The Music – “Freedom Fighters.” Another ’70s-influenced band – that huge guitar riff just fills your ears, and I think the lack of a singable chorus hurt their chances on this side of the pond. “Breakin’” gets an honorable mention, but that flopped here as well, and they have possibly the least radio-friendly band name since Pussy Galore.

78. Gorillaz – “Clint Eastwood.” The triumphant return of Del tha Funkee Homosapien.

77. Tegan and Sara – “Walking With A Ghost.” (video) I’ve never heard anything from these two that comes close to this song’s post-punk pop urgency vibe. It’s perhaps best known for the White Stripes’ cover, which – and it pains me to say this as a White Stripes fan – did the original no favors at all. Then again, I don’t like their cover of “Jolene” either.

76. Them Crooked Vultures – “New Fang.” Just barely qualifies, as it was released in the final weeks of 2009, and didn’t really come to my attention until it won the Grammy for Best Hard Rock Performance this past February. (I still wonder if the song won because it deserved the award, or because it had the requisite old guy on board in John Paul Jones.) Them Crooked Vultures is what Masters of Reality were supposed to be when they brought Ginger Baker on board for their second album; the two groups are connected by M.O.R.’s singer, Chris Goss, who co-produced Queens of the Stone Age’s Era Vulgaris.

75. Amy Winehouse – “You Know I’m No Good.” Talented, yes. Troubled, yes. But the fact that she died young shouldn’t affect anyone’s assessment of her music. I think her best work was likely ahead of her, if she’d stayed sober enough to produce it. What we’re left with is a Brien Taylor career and theories on what might have been.

74. Cage the Elephant – “Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked.” Not sure if they’ll fully break out of the college-music niche where they’ve found so much success, as the looseness of their sound may not play well with the mass audience, but the singer’s lackadaisical storytelling vibe and the stoner-rock influences in the music offered us something different, at least for one album.

73. Queens of the Stone Age – “No One Knows.” This was Reed Johnson’s walkup music from when he came up with Toronto at least until I left the club, which didn’t help him hit right-handed pitching but made it easier to watch him try.

72. Doves – “Pounding.” (video) Maybe the hardest track on what is still my favorite album of the 2000s, The Last Broadcast, as well as the song I thought most likely to find an audience on U.S. radio stations at the time. That didn’t work out as planned.

71. Tokyo Police Club – “Your English Is Good.” (video) I have no idea what this song is about, but it’s catchy and snotty and my wife thought it was really annoying so I can’t use it as a ringtone any more.

70. The Broken Bells – “The High Road.” (video) Collaboration between Danger Mouse and James Mercer of the Shins. Features one of my favorite song lyrics of the decade, “The dawn to end all nights/That’s all we hoped it was.” Also inspired my first and only YTMND posting, which might ruin the song for you forever.

69. Rogue Wave – “Lake Michigan.” (video) Written in 3/4- or 6/8-time, which led the Dancing With the Stars band to use it for a waltz and absolutely dismember the song in the process. My wife originally thought the lyrics were “get off of my stash” and that it was a song about a quilter fiercely guarding his stash of fabric.

68. Stereophonics – “Dakota.” (video). More straight-ahead rock-and-roll than most Stereophonics songs, even compared to early hits like “The Bartender and Thief,” with Kelly Jones channeling Faces-era Rod Stewart. They’ve had better melodies than this once, mostly in their 1990s output, plus one song further up this list.

67. Radiohead – “Optimistic.” Wikipedia, which is never wrong, says that this was the most-played track off Kid A, which is easy to believe as it’s the most accessible song on the album and one of the few with a hint of a guitar. I’m an early Radiohead fan, meaning the moment they switched off the guitars, I mostly switched off of them. I may be the only person on the Internet who didn’t lose his shit over In Rainbows (“Bodysnatchers” is solid, but didn’t make this list). They may remain critical darlings, but OK Computer was their peak.

66. OK Go – “Here It Goes Again.” The official video, featuring choreography on treadmills, has been viewed over 10 million times on Youtube. They get bonus points* for being baseball fans. (*No actual bonus points have been awarded on this or any other basis.)

65. Gorillaz – “Feel Good Inc.” I’ll give it to Damon Albarn – he has pretty good taste in rappers, going for De la Soul here for the lead single off Demon Days. As I type this, the album is on sale for just $5 on amazon.

64. Keane – “Somewhere Only We Know.” And the first track on their next album, “Spiralling,” was great and much more uptempo, which deked me into buying the entire thing only to discover that it sucked. They seem to have drifted into critical and hipster revile; I don’t love this song the way I did when it first came out, mostly because the more you listen to the lyrics the more trite they seem, but it’s the rare piano-without-guitar song I do like and will find stuck in my head for hours.

63. Passion Pit – “Little Secrets.” (video) I swear I wrote about this song when it first came out, but either the post was lost when the blog was corrupted two years ago or my memory just sucks. I still can’t believe that’s a male singer. I’m not sure what this subgenre, also populated by Foster the People and Naked + Famous, is called, but this song is the best I’ve heard within it.

62. White Stripes – “My Doorbell.” One of their goofier songs, but with the typical Jack White twist (“I don’t need any of your pity, I’ve got plenty of my own friends/They’re all above me”).

61. Doves – “Black And White Town.” (video) After The Last Broadcast, Doves had some critical momentum to try to convert into commercial success, and led off with a very strong single with their usual blend of driving rhythms and dark background notes. Unfortunately, the rest of the album was dull, and by the time they came back strongly with Kingdom of Rust, their moment had passed. I’m still a huge fan, though.

60. Arcade Fire – “Neighborhood #3 (Power Out).” (video) The best track off their debut album – more under control than its other tracks; some fans prefer that loosely controlled chaos, while I prefer the more polished approach that came on last year’s The Suburbs. The video has a real Triples of Belleville feel to it.

59. Arctic Monkeys – “Fluorescent Adolescent.” (video) Listen to the first few bars and watch HGTV’s Income Property. Then tell me the latter isn’t at least highly derivative of the former. Anyway, the Arctic Monkeys never quite recaptured the manic energy of their debut album, but Alex Turner still had a few memorable hooks up his sleeve, and his lyrics continued to improve, including the witty rhyme here of “rascal” and “Tabasco.”

58. Pinback – “From Nothing To Nowhere.” One of the DJs on XMU loves these guys, which is how I came across this melodic, guitar-heavy track three or four years after it came out. The first time I watched the video, I saw the lead singer and thought, “Hey, is that Tad Doyle?”

57. BT featuring M. Doughty – “Never Gonna Come Back Down.” (video). Yep, that’s Mike Doughty, former lead singer of Soul Coughing and intrepid coverer of Mary J. Blige songs, over a hyper-trance/trip-hop track by Brian Transeau, the DJ who pioneered (and maybe invented) the vocal “stutter” edit.

56. Presidents of the United States of America – “Some Postman.” (video, shot entirely on mobile phone cameras) Never got into their 1990s stuff, when they were one of a dozen snotty faux-punk joke bands (Tripping Daisy, Hagfish) to infect alternative radio, but this one track from their 2004 album Love Everybody hit the mark, telling a funny story instead of throwing out ridiculous lines in search of a laugh. For whatever reason, my iPod loved this song and played it so often in shuffle mode I had to take it off for a few months.

55. Radiohead – “I Might Be Wrong” (video) I didn’t like Amnesiac (a.k.a. Kid B) any more than I liked its predecessor, but the menacing guitar loop on this track would make it the ideal theme song for a Hitchcock film.

54. Starsailor – “Good Souls.” (video) I actually saw these guys live in 2002, so there’s no excuse for forgetting the best song from their debut album, but for some reason I mentally had them pegged in 1999. It’s just a well-constructed song – you don’t notice the great foundation from the bass guitar until it’s alone in the final few measures – reminiscent to me of the slower material on Radiohead’s The Bends. The lead singer kind of looks like Ashton Kutcher, though, doesn’t he?

53. White Stripes – “Seven Nation Army.” Great song, but overplayed to the point where I can still only take it in limited doses. One of the top intro bass lines in rock history … which is apparently not played on a bass guitar. Clever.

52. Ryan Adams – “New York, New York.” The video and the timing made it an unlikely hit, but I found this to be one of Adams/Whiskeytown’s most accessible or mainstream songs. Speaking of Whiskeytown, “Don’t Be Sad” was recorded in the 1990s but wasn’t released until 2001, so it qualifies through the back door, although it’s a little too folky for me to put on this list.

51. The Darkness – “I Believe In A Thing Called Love.” video) In which The Darkness (who recently reassembled after a brief breakup) unabashedly steal from the New Wave of British Heavy Metal that brought us bands like Iron Maiden and Motorhead. Wikipedia – which is never wrong – says this song was on the soundtrack for Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason, which seems comparable to putting a Yanni song on the soundtrack to Hostel.

50. Doves – “There Goes The Fear.” (video) The highest-charting single for Doves – although the single was released and deleted on the same day, which I’m sure confuses those of you young enough that you don’t remember singles as a physical format – was a nostalgic ode to lost romances and casual drug use with a hypnotic percussion track and some weird jungle whooping in the outro. In other words, it’s awesome.

49. Franz Ferdinand – “The Fallen.” (video) With lines like “Who gives a damn about the profits of Tesco?” it seems like an anthem for the 99%, featuring uptempo music, plenty of wordplay, and the kind of fast-talk-singing that seems a cinch for chart success when it’s pulled off correctly.

48. Jurassic 5 – “What’s Golden.” (video) I think their best song was 1998’s “Without a Doubt” – if they’d stuck with that slightly harder sound, they might have found a more consistent audience – but this was the high point of their recordings after that debut disc, and a moderate crossover hit thanks in part to its appearance in a soda commercial.

47. Carbon Leaf – “The Boxer.” Done right, rock tinged with Irish folk music is among my favorite styles of music. Talk about an odd connection, though: a not-yet-famous Katy Perry stars in their video for “Learn to Fly.”

46. Velvet Revolver – “Slither.” I admit it – hearing this for the first time, I went right back to ’87 and the first time I heard Appetite for Destruction. Of course, back in ’87 it blew my ears off, while in 2004 it was a little quaint.

45. Mute Math – “Typical.” Too clever by half? Mute Math seems to have a reputation as a brilliant band, and the whole playing-backwards trick was pretty cool, but “I know there’s got to be another level/Somewhere closer to the other side” might as well be a Backstreet Boys lyric. Good thing the hook in the chorus is so catchy.

44. Stereophonics – “Have A Nice Day.” A slower, folkier song than most of their output, based on the cliched provincial cab driver met by the band – this one in San Francisco, as the story goes – but I’ll give Kelly Jones credit for a more detailed picture of the driver’s attitude and for putting such a unique stamp on the song with his raspy vocals. It’s mostly on this list for its hook, though.

43. Coldplay – “Viva La Vida.” So I really don’t get the distaste for these guys. Too popular? Too much ’70s soft-rock influence? Overreaction to the abysmal XY album? Antipathy towards Gwyneth? This song has faded for me the more I listened to it – and it was overplayed, big time, to the point where I needed an escape hatch – but it’s a well-written, ambitious pop song, on an ambitious and rather complete album; even NME, among the most sneering of hipster publications (and I admire them for it), gave the album an 8 out of 10. I’ll go with the XY explanation, because that album was shit.

42. Silversun Pickups – “Lazy Eye.” So last time around, I called these guys one-hit wonders, and a few readers responded by telling me where “Panic Switch” placed on the charts. Not only was that song just riding the coattails of “Lazy Eye,” I think now with more time since those songs were released, we can agree this is the one still receiving airplay, and this is the only one worth remembering. (Let’s not even talk about “The Royal We.”) Anyway, am I the only one who wasn’t sure if the lead singer was male or female? Great song in the single edit, but the outro to the album track is just late-60s wanking, and I doubt there’s been a bigger letdown for me when learning the actual lyrics to any song. “That same old decent lazy-eye?” Uh, okay.

41. LCD Soundsystem – “Daft Punk Is Playing At My House.” (video, but of the much shorter single edit) Kind of an alternative novelty hit, but it is catchy enough that I’ve caught myself singing it a few days after hearing it, and the more I listen to it the more I like the way it slowly layers on to that simple opening groove. I’m still waiting for the sequel, “Daft Punk is Playing Settlers of Catan at My House.”

40. The Fratellis – “Chelsea Dagger.” (video). Little did I know when I first heard this about thirteen months ago that it had become a sporting event staple on this side of the pond as well as over in Europe. It’s obnoxious, catchy, and practically puts the damn beer in your hand to wave as you shout along.

39. Spoon – “I Turn My Camera On.” (video). This was just a straight-up omission from the first list, as I knew and liked the song from when it was first released, right before I fell off the music-listening map for almost a full year. I get a lot of early Prince out of this one, without the synths but with that same sideways nod to funk, as well as the falsetto that is de rigueur in any Prince homage.

38. Coldplay – “In My Place.” I understand that “Clocks” is The Hit for these guys, but I was burned out on that song within a year, even before the Jays used it in a video montage at the end of the 2003 season to pay tribute to Roy Halladay’s (presumed, at the time) Cy Young-winning performance. I heard this song at a Coldplay concert from their first tour, and that opening riff made it the most memorable song of the night, even though I’d never heard it before. A reader pointed out the similarity between this song and Ride’s “Dreams Burn Down;” I guess I hear it a little in the intro, but I’d probably have to be more of a shoegazing fan to be bothered by it.

37. Matt & Kim – “Daylight.” The best White Stripes song not written or recorded by the White Stripes. The video is aggressively horrible, though not as bad as the video where they strip and walk down the street in broad … um, never mind.

36. Ian Brown – “Upside Down.” I’m not sure I would have even discovered this if it wasn’t by the former lead singer of the Stone Roses, since it garnered no airplay that I know of in the U.S. and is probably the most bizarre song on the list, with no percussion and an incongruous trumpet solo. Then again, Brown’s solo stuff has all been weird and compelling, so while this isn’t as good as “Set My Baby Free,” it’s his best song of the decade.

35. The Hives – “Hate To Say I Told You So.” The skinny ties and matching outfits were stupid, but they churned out a few memorable bone-crunchers, including this song and “Walk Idiot Walk.”

34. Wolfmother – “Joker And The Thief.” If you’re into old-school guitar rock at all, you had to like this song, right? The opening lick was hypnotic, and the producer tweaked every bit for maximum bombast. Sort of a guy’s guy song. I would have been surprised if they’d ever cooked up anything close to this good again.

33. Arcade Fire – “Keep the Car Running.” I didn’t like this album (Neon Bible) save this one song, which will probably remind you a little of Eddie and the Cruisers but in a good way.

32. The Last Shadow Puppets – “Standing Next To Me (album).” (video) Unabashedly retro, right down to their mod outfits and haircuts in the video. This side project of Alex Turner (Arctic Monkeys) and Miles Kane (the Rascals) gets derivative pretty quickly as you work through the album, but this lead single stands out for a much stronger melody and the wisdom to get in and out in under two and a half minutes, before the novelty wears off.

31. Phoenix – “1901.” (video) The second single from their fourth album, which won the Grammy for Best Alternative Album (a harbinger for Arcade Fire’s bigger victory a year later?), this is probably the most energetic track on the album; after the first two tracks, the disc starts to run together for me, so I generally just listen to those songs by themselves, with the other one appearing further up this list.

30. Mike Doughty – “Looking At The World From The Bottom Of A Well.” (video) An ironically uptempo track inspired by one of my favorite novels, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. The whole album, Haughty Melodic (an anagram of “Michael Doughty”), was excellent, although this was clearly the best track. I still miss Soul Coughing.

29. Gnarls Barkley – “Crazy.” Cee-Lo’s “Closet Freak,” from his 2002 solo debut, gets an honorable mention here, too. He can sing, but I think subsequent events made it clear Danger Mouse was the real artistic force behind this collaboration, while Cee-Lo provides the voice and the charisma.

28. Flogging Molly – “Float.” (video) I’ve mentioned this one before – I’m something of a sucker for Irish folk songs or, as with “Float,” songs that bring that sound forward into a sort of folk-rock hybrid. Few do it well and this, to me, is the pinnacle; I’m surprised it didn’t become more of a crossover success.

27. Chemical Brothers featuring Q-Tip, “Galvanize.” And let me just state for the record that I was all over this song a year before Budweiser stuck it on their commercials. There really is no justification for using a song this good to advertise a beer that bad.

26. Sambassadeur – “Kate.” (video, sort of) If the Kings of Convenience had been right and quiet really was the new loud, the Swedish band Sambassadeur would have been huge. As it was, they had to settle for royalties from a Payless Shoes commercial and a spot on my iPod. The song would be unbearably twee if it wasn’t for the lead singer’s slightly smoky voice and faint Swedish accent.

25. Interpol – “Slow Hands.” (video) This was the first Interpol song that didn’t sound to me like a Joy Division ripoff (not that that’s even a bad thing, as there are forty million worse bands to rip off than JD), and also showed their deft hand at manipulating tempo and layering to create a full, textured song with a cathartic release in the final chorus.

24. The Stills – “Still In Love Song.” (video or, um, “slidshow”) I thought these guys were supposed to be the next big thing, but this turned out to be their only … I can’t quite call it a hit. But the mix of sneer and despair in the vocals and the plaintive lead guitar line before each verse gave the song a Smiths vibe without a needless Morrissey impersonation.

23. Arctic Monkeys – “From The Ritz To The Rubble.” (unofficial video) It starts out with a seemingly drunken-rant about getting turned away from a club, then just as the guitars come crashing in it becomes clear that the protagonist may be unreliable as well as clueless. The whole album is excellent with its modern (and more polished) take on early post-punk, but this song hinted at the complexity of which the Monkeys and Alex Turner were capable.

22. Doves – “Words.” (unofficial video) Either that main guitar riff hooks you on the first listen, or it annoys the hell out of you and you can’t get it out of your head for weeks. Needless to say I’m in group one, and the added layering as the song goes on just builds a tension that’s only broken by the quieter counterpoint in each chorus.

21. The Soundtrack of Our Lives – “Sister Surround.” (video) I thought their Behind the Music album would cross over, but their sound was probably 25 years late and five years early, as ’70s guitar rock seemed to make a comeback at the end of the decade with songs like Wolfmother’s entry on the list. The lead singer does look rather like a hobbit, though.

20. Gorillaz – “19-2000 (Soulchild Remix).” (video) The best fake band ever? I suppose an angry Rutles fan will show up in the comments to flame me. The hip pick for decade-end lists is “Feel Good Inc.,” which already appeared lower on this ranking, but Damian Mendis and Stuart Bradbury’s remix of an otherwise unremarkable song from Gorillaz’ debut has been on my main playlist since I first entered the digital music player world six or seven years ago.

19. Hot Chip – “Over And Over.” The video makes even less sense than the song, but good luck getting either out of your head. If you didn’t get the “bunting runners over and over/like a monkey with a miniature cymbal” joke I made during the World Series, it’s from a line in this electronic song, named the best track of 2006 by NME. Apparently the song is a response to critics who said the band was too laid-back, as well as a reference to a Danish post-punk/dance group called Laidback of whom I’d never heard before seeing this stuff in Wikipedia (which is never wrong).

18. White Stripes – “Icky Thump.” I don’t generally get excited about politically-themed lyrics, but these were spot-on, in large part because Jack White picked a topic you could actually address in three minutes of words. Oh, and the song rocks.

17. The Klaxons – “Golden Skans.” (video) Nu-rave died fast, yet the Klaxons, one of its leading lights, lived on. I’m not sure I could compare this to any other song – it lives at a weird intersection of rave, rock, and experimental acts like King Crimson with its accents on off beats and a bass line that seems to exist in conflict with the rest of the song.

16. Modest Mouse – “Dashboard.” (video) Johnny Marr’s revenge. I also think of this as the great pop song the Pixies never made. Perhaps the most indecipherable lyrics of any song on this list.

15. OK Go – “Get Over It” (video) Another omission from the first list for which I have no good excuse. They became more pop-friendly as time went on, while this shows more of their hard-rock/punk roots, with fabulously obnoxious lyrics and a funny video that emphasizes the song’s wordplay. But why the ping-pong scene?

14. Queens of the Stone Age – “The Lost Art Of Keeping A Secret.” (video) “No One Knows” is a great song, but nothing could top this sinister groove from their first album, Rated R, the perfect marriage of a subtle melody and detuned guitars, an early sign of Josh Homme’s tremendous ability to graft perfect hooks on to stoner-rock backdrops. (And no, I’m not a fan of “Feel-Good Hit of the Summer.”) True story: I first heard this song on MTV2 in August of 2001, followed immediately by the first time I heard Nickelback’s “This is How You Remind Me” – a great high reuined by an immediate kick in the groin.

13. Phoenix – “Lisztomania.” (video) I left Phoenix off the original list because this album was so recently released that I didn’t feel like I’d had enough time to consider the songs, but this and “1901” haven’t lost anything now that they’re two-plus years past their release date.

12. The Dandy Warhols – “Bohemian Like You.” (video – very NSFW) A bit forgotten as the music scene changed over the course of the decade, but it’s a catchy song dripping with snark that makes fun of hipsters before it was cool to make fun of hipsters.

11. Groove Armada – “My Friend.” (video) Built on one of the all-time great samples, from the Fatback Band’s “Got To Learn How To Dance,” which also backs up Kool G Rap & DJ Polo’s “Streets of New York.”

10. Crystal Method – “Name Of The Game.” (video) Not normally my style of music, but guitar riffs from Tom Morello and a contribution from a member of underground rap group Styles of Beyond plus a driving beat make for a hell of a driving or workout song. Calling all freaks.

9. Outkast – “Hey Ya!.” The best Prince song by an artist other than Prince – but not the top Prince homage on this list.

8. Manchester Orchestra – “I’ve Got Friends.” (video) The singers are nothing alike, but Manchester Orchestra reminds me strongly in their one-step-from-the-abyss approach to alternative rock and lyrical alienation of early Radiohead. Not to be confused with the OneRepublic song of a similar name, which should be banned on the grounds that it makes my ears bleed.

7. Franz Ferdinand – “Take Me Out.” Requires no explanation, I assume.

6. White Stripes – “The Denial Twist.” Not their usual straight-ahead rocker, but they manage to update a Motown-esque sound into their minimalist musical style with plenty of wordplay in the lyrics. I probably could have put another half-dozen White Stripes songs on this list without much of a stretch.

5. Roots featuring Musiq – “Break You Off.” (video) The best hip-hop song of the decade, assuming you accept it as hip-hop instead of R&B or soul or just … great music.

4. Arctic Monkeys – “I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor.” (live video) Still like this song as much now as when I first heard it, if not more. Spawned dozens of imitators, none of which produced a song this good.

3. Muse – “Supermassive Black Hole.” Yet another Prince homage, reimagined through an alternative-rock lens. I liked Muse’s first album, Showbiz, released in 1999, but after that found them increasingly pop-oriented even as their music became more bloated with layers of instrumentation. But “Supermassive Black Hole” was such a departure from their usual material, a rare example where their over-the-top showmanship helped the song play up instead of down, with a funk-tinged groove behind the requisite falsetto vocal. This song is the most egregious omission from the first list; I simply hadn’t heard it, not when it came out, not until late in 2010. That period from late 2005 till the fall of 2006 was just a void for me, between changing jobs, becoming a father, and enduring probably the longest period of depression of my life; I shut down and missed out not just on art but on an incredibly important time for my family. And, worst of all, I wasn’t even aware I was depressed – my memories of the period are simply shrouded in fog. Um, anyway, this is a great song.

2. Kaiser Chiefs – “I Predict A Riot.” (video) They did have another minor success with “Ruby,” but I think they’re really destined to go down as one of rock’s greatest one-hit wonders with this bizarre, relentless song that pairs despairing lyrics with an upbeat track.

1. Doves – “Caught By The River.” (video, although it’s the edited version) My favorite track by my favorite band, the soaring end to The Last Broadcast. Heavy U2 influence on the guitar interludes between verses. The fire that destroyed Sub Sub’s recording studio was probably the greatest conflagration in music history.

New Grub Street.

George Gissing’s 1891 novel New Grub Street (free for Kindle) is an angry, biting, brilliant, but slow-moving novel about writers grappling with a changing literary environment in late 19th-century England, faced with a growing dichotomy between serious literary work and lowbrow work that is more commercially viable. It appears on the Bloomsbury 100 and is an honorable mention in The Novel 100. Its title refers to the defunct Grub Street in London, which had become synonymous with hack writing by the time of this novel’s publication.

The two central characters, friends yet rivals, are Jasper Milvain, the materialistic, ambitious writer who thinks of writing as a trade rather than an art; and Edwin Reardon, a poor, married father who sees himself as an artist but struggles with writer’s block, perhaps brought on by the pressure of having to support a family and live up to his own expectations of himself.

Milvain – I’m assuming the “vain” part of his name is not a coincidence – is naked in his ambition, an English Julien Sorel (but less witless), and talks incessantly about his plans to further his writing career, including tricks like reviewing the same book with different opinions for multiple publications. He also seeks a profitable marriage to a woman with capital and who would make a suitable mate for him in nouveau literary circles, a goal that has him proposing marriage to a new legatee, Marian Yule, only to find him regretting the act when her fortune disappears before she can inherit it. His interest in romantic love is as limited as his concern for literary merit in his output:

“I care very little about titles; what I look to is intellectual distinction.” (Jasper)
“Combined with financial success.” (his sister, Dora)
“Why, that is what distinction means.”

Reardon, on the other hand, is Gissing’s equivalent to the nameless narrator of Knut Hamsun’s Hunger, poor (although not quite starving), with two published novels, neither of which sold well, the latter of which was less well-received by critics than the former, now facing reduced circumstances if he can’t complete and sell another work. His wife, Amy, loves him but grows exasperated with his self-defeating attitude; as their money troubles grow, their bickering becomes a quarrel that leads to separation, while Edwin convinces himself that Amy is withholding affection and also finds himself without love for their son, Willie.

Milvain and Reardon’s diverging paths are set against the contrast of two other secondary characters who follow more extreme versions of the same careers. Whelpdale is as ambitious as Milvain, yet far more sentimental, and succeeds in business through hard work and good character; Biffen, on the other hand, is a true starving artist, hard at work on a magnum opus that is, of course, unreadable, the completion of which leaves him without a purpose in life (and with almost no profit for his labors).

Jasper is far from sympathetic, but he’s the book’s most interesting character because he is in constant motion, scheming to push himself forward, making and breaking alliances as needed, playing both ends of an argument for his own gain. He views himself as worldly, yet shows a comical ignorance of the lives of those who lack his advantages:

“I always feel it rather humiliating,” said Jasper, “that I have gone through no very serious hardships. It must be so gratifying to say to young fellows who are just beginning: ‘Ah, I remember when I was within an ace of starving to death,’ and then come out with Grub Street reminiscences of the most appalling kind. Unfortunately, I have always had enough to eat.”

His plotting extends to his two sisters, Maud and Dora, pushing them to earn their livings through writing and to make advantageous matches; Maud is the silly girl, falling for a wealthy cad who is bound to disappoint her, but Dora, Gissing’s best secondary character here, is a very modern, progressive woman for that era; she sees her brother as superficial and isn’t afraid to openly mock him for it. Gissing narrates in the third-person, as he must to track all of these storylines, but Dora would have been an excellent choice for a first-person narrator and serves some of that role on a limited basis when she frames Jasper’s more absurd outbursts.

Gissing was an early proponent of naturalism in literature, using highly detailed, realistic language and settings to criticize the social order of the day, from the declining recognition of literature as art to the constraints of Victorian morality. When Amy and Edwin separate but can’t easily divorce, she raises this criticism of the difficulty of divorce for the lower classes:

“Isn’t it a most ridiculous thing that married people who both wish to separate can’t do so and be quite free again?” (Amy)
“I suppose it would lead to all sorts of troubles – don’t you think?” (Edith)
“So people say about every new step in civilization.”

English society survived, of course, and Amy’s/Gissing’s observation about doomsayers remains relevant today. New Grub Street isn’t a protest novel per se, but the struggles of Reardon (the more autobiographical of the two central characters) offer up a complaint against the rising materialism of the era drawn from Gissing’s own experiences as a starving young writer while foreshadowing Gissing’s own marriage to a woman who didn’t appreciate him as an artist.

Where New Grub Street falls short is in narrative greed. Novels about writers or writing tend to be light on action – will he finish the book? will she have enough to pay the rent? are not the sort of questions to keep the pages turning, and only Gissing’s heavy use of dialogue kept the pacing up. I’ve read a handful of novels about writers, the best of which was probably Dawn Powell’s The Wicked Pavilion, an ensemble novel that sends up all manner of artists and the rich philistines who fund them.

Next up: Sinclair Lewis’ novel It Can’t Happen Here, an alternate-history work about the rise of a American fascist politician leading up to the 1936 election.

Top Chef, S9E1.

Buyer’s guide to first basemen is now posted for Insiders. I’ll have one of these up every day next week, Monday through Saturday.

Spoilers abound, so hold off if you haven’t seen it…

* In general I approve of this format – 29 chefs who must cook once (or twice) to qualify for the final sixteen. I think it could really open things up to a dark horse or two whose abilities won’t play so well through an audition process but will play up when s/he is actually putting food in front of the judges. It also had the benefit of weeding out the colossal douchebag right off the bat (although, if his abilities matched his own opinion of them, we’d be stuck with him for a few more weeks … and really, how do you get on this show without an ounce of butchering skills?). I do worry that we’re headed for a 14-person battle for a single chef’s jacket, which seems a little unbalanced; they could have just gone with yes/no, and if they ended up with more than 16 in the yes group had a cook-off to determine the final spots.

* I hate seeing it spread over two episodes across two weeks. Make it two hours on one night. I’m not burning up with suspense here; I’m just mildly annoyed that it was cut off so abruptly.

* Back to the douchebag – I don’t remember his name – but 1) He can’t be real, can he? Could he be so lacking in self-awareness to think that this act would play with chefs five to twenty years his senior? And 2) Slightly weak to let Grayson’s dish get blown up by another chef’s mistake. Tom’s point, that she was wrong to assume Chef DB could handle it for her, makes it a slap-on-the-wrist infraction, not a “you’re more than 50% likely to go home now” type of error. Get her another tenderloin. Let her incorporate a little meat from another cut so there’s at least more food on the plate. I’d much rather see a competitor go home due to her own mistake than due to a competitor’s.

* Fear the Beard. I’m just sayin’.

* “I’m a culinary artist.” Kind of like “I’m a groundball pitcher.” Just shut up and generate some groundballs already.

* That said, the first chef to use that phrase, Chris Crary, did deliver on the claim that his style is like Richard Blais’. I don’t know if he’s got Richard’s technical skills, but he put out one of the most elaborate dishes we saw and the judges approved.

* Knew Sarah Grueneberg was a lock when she chose the pig skin as long as she didn’t seriously screw it up – the judges generally seem to reward risky choices if the execution is even adequate – but it seems like her repertoire is mostly Italian cuisine. Does that mean she’ll be limited in later challenges that require knowledge of, say, east or south Asian styles?

* Chris Jones reminds me of someone – a musician? an actor? – and it is driving me insane because I can’t figure out who it is.

* Very excited to see Hugh Acheson, who was the best part of Top Chef: Masters S3 because he’s hilarious, as one of the judges. Anyone have his cookbook (A New Turn in the South: Southern Flavors Reinvented for Your Kitchen)?

* Hey Richie – is this the hairstyle you wanted? That is a good look on exactly … no one. And, more to the point, a palate that’s well off the median (he said a ‘salty’ palate – does that mean things taste salty to him even when they’re not?) is a serious handicap in this kind of competition.

Your thoughts?

Sugar.

My ranking of the top 50 free agents this offseason is up, and I chatted about that and other stuff today as well.

I’d had Sugar – the 2008 baseball movie, as there are a few films by that tile – saved up on the DVR for months before finally getting around to watching it last night, since I was distracted by The Wire when I had some free time to sit and watch a show. Sugar might be the best pure baseball movie I’ve seen, except that at heart it’s not really a baseball movie, but a movie about being the ultimate fish out of water, and how baseball exploits one of its most dedicated underclasses.

Miguel “Sugar” Santos is a 19-year-old pitcher in the Dominican Republic with arm strength but no real second pitch who signed at some point with the Kansas City Knights before the movie began for just $15,000. Early in the film, an American scout for the Knights visits the team’s academy in Boca Chica and teaches Sugar how to through a spike or knuckle curve, which becomes a separator for him and earns him an invite to spring training and eventually a spot in the rotation of the Bridgetown (Iowa) Swing, KC’s low-A affiliate. Once there, however, things don’t go as smoothly as Sugar and his family had hoped, either on the field, where a minor injury throws off his entire season, or off of it, where he’s isolated by age, culture, and language.

The film’s pacing was a real strength – there’s no racing through the early stages to rush to get Sugar to the U.S., so viewers unfamiliar with the feeder system in the Dominican Republic see something of where these players come from and how tough the odds are against them even getting to the U.S. This isn’t exploitation along the lines of slave labor or sweat shops, but these players often sign for very little money at 16 because their other economic opportunities are limited or nonexistent. Sugar doesn’t focus too much on the baseball season because the team’s performance is secondary to the story of the players; even when we see game action, it’s backdrop.

(The cinematography during those game sequences was really uneven; close-up shots of players throwing the ball around the infield were jerky and hard to watch, but the shots of Sugar pitching were perfect, right down to the change in angles from showing his face to showing the pitch reach the batter.)

Sugar himself is the only fully-developed character, but unlike many single-character movies, the various side characters who play significant roles still manage to contribute to the story without letting their one-dimensionality get in the movie’s way. Sugar stays with the Higgins family, an older couple on a farm a good distance from Bridgetown, providing the ultimate culture shock for Sugar, establishing just how out of water he is in Iowa and how much he’s hindered by language even in the most basic aspects of life, and adding a few moments of humor (the wife telling him to put “sopa” in the washing machine rather than “jabon”). And when things start to fall apart for Sugar, it’s to the Higgins that he turns, because his family has become so wrapped up in his potential for a lucrative baseball career that they are no longer there to support him. We never learn much about the Higgins’, but we shouldn’t – they fulfilled a critical role without unnecessary tangents.

The actor who plays Sugar, Algenis Perez Soto, wasn’t a professional actor but was seen playing baseball by the directors after their casting call didn’t turn up the ideal candidate. (Or so the story goes.) That use of non-professionals reminded me of City of God, a Brazilian film that also used local kids from the dangerous barrio of that name in Rio de Janeiro in what remains one of the best movies I’ve seen. In both movies, which couldn’t be more different in tone or subject matter, there’s a lack of polish to the central characters that makes them look and sound more real.

I mentioned on Twitter that there were minor inaccuracies, but I was happy to forgive them because they were there in service of a stronger plot and consistent pacing. For a 19-year-old pitcher in the Dominican Republic to pick up a spike curveball one fall/winter, then earn an invite to spring training, and then be assigned to a full-season club as a starter is not impossible, but it’s extremely unlikely – and the type of pitcher who’d travel that path wouldn’t find himself in the position Sugar was in later in the film. And that spike curveball is a problem – Sugar is seen throwing it for strikes once he gets the hang of it, but it’s probably the hardest pitch to command, and very few big leaguers throw it; it’s more common for player development folks to convert pitchers from the spike to a traditional curveball or to a slider because the spike is so often in the dirt. I also found it odd that the Stanford alum was so slow to pick up on Sugar’s lack of English skills, but then again, he was also a really nice guy when we know all Stanford alumni are insufferable.

But the filmmakers here seemed to be in command of the points where they bent reality. Moving Sugar along so quickly is necessary; the alternatives are a much longer film or inserting a “six months later…” gap. The spike curveball isn’t the ideal pitch for that situation, but it has a benefit – the grip used to throw one is so unusual relative to those on other pitches that it would be evident to non-baseball fans that this was a new pitch for Sugar. Even when the waitress in the famous “fren toas” scene read a little false to me when she asked Sugar how he wanted his eggs, but that slight off-note came back around thirty seconds later when she brought the food to the table in one of the best scenes in the film.

It would be impossible to avoid comparing Sugar to that baseball movie that came out earlier this fall, which I didn’t like as a movie or as a baseball movie. Sugar has moments of sentiment, but there’s no manipulation of the audience to create them. The main character’s struggles, even though they will be foreign to most U.S. viewers, resonated far more strongly with me because they get at fundamental human needs – the need to belong, to fit in, to succeed, to live up to others’ expectations. And while Sugar doesn’t have a villain on the order of the fictionalized Grady Fuson, it should open some eyes to how much the current system exploits young Latin American players, particularly Dominican players, and discards them if they’re no longer useful to their parent clubs. Some major league teams are better at assimilating Latin American players – particularly in terms of teaching them English – but some are worse, and I know of none that help players once they’re released. (And don’t get me started on our nation’s immigration policies.) The directors made these issues evident to viewers without letting them interfere with the story. This film is about Sugar Santos and his own personal development because of baseball, for better and later for worse, and it deserves a much, much wider audience than it has received to date.

(I might have been kidding about the Stanford stuff, though.)

Glen More.

Glen More is the first board game from German designer Matthias Cramer, who was subsequently nominated for the Kennerspiel des Jahres award in 2011 for his next game, Lancaster (losing out to one of our all-time favorites, 7 Wonders). I haven’t played that latter game, but Glen More is one of the most interesting new games I’ve come across, second only to 7 Wonders in that department, with particular points for introducing a new selection mechanic for a tile-based game.

In Glen More, players are Scottish clan leaders and begin building their territories with a single village tile and a single clan member (experienced boardgamers will recognize it as a meeple). On his turn, a player takes one or more tiles off a track that goes around the outer edge of the central game board and places it (or them) adjacent to any tile he has already placed. When he places a tile, that tile is “activated” as are any adjacent tiles, meaning the player may receive up to nine actions and/or resources for placing a single tile. Standard tiles may provide resources (wood, stone, cattle, sheep, and wheat), allow for the conversion of resources into victory points, allow for the production of whiskey from wheat, or add new clan members. The game also includes several special tiles that grant bonuses at the time they’re placed or at the end of the game.

The selection mechanic is the biggest difference between Glen More and any other game where players are building territories or edifices independent of other players (such as in Alhambra). Glen More’s track includes twelve spaces, of which eleven are occupied at any time by either a single tile or a single player token. On his turn, the player whose token is at the head of the chain may jump back as far as he likes on to any tile and claim it; therefore, if he is still ahead of all other players in the chain, the player can go multiple times. (Once all players have passed over a particular tile, it is discarded from the game.) Therefore, it is likely that players will receive uneven numbers of turns, something balanced out slightly by a game-ending penalty for players who have more than the minimum number of tiles. The mechanic forces players to weigh the opportunity cost of jumping far back in the chain to claim a specific tile – not only does this leave other tiles to competing players, but it may be a while before the player who moved so far gets to select again.

The other two main strategies in the game involve balancing resource production with conversion into points or whiskey and placing tiles in the most advantageous manner. You need some resources to buy certain tiles, and there are good tile pairings (such as a pasture and/or a cattle tile plus a butcher tile to convert them into … well, delicious victory points) to target. But you can get caught overproducing without enough options to convert or spend those resources, or have the opposite problem where you can’t take certain tiles because you lack the resources. (There is a market to buy and sell goods, but it’s limited, and once three resources of any kind have been purchased by players, the market has no more until a player decides to sell one back.) Whiskey production, while fun on a more general level, also leads to victory points for players who produce more than the player with the fewest barrels has, and can be used to buy certain valuable tiles like taverns, which produce 7-8 victory points whenever they’re activated.

The placement issue is the trickiest one in the game. There are multiple restrictions, but the key one is that a tile can only be placed horizontally or vertically adjacent to another tile with a meeple on it, meaning players must keep their meeples placed to allow for continuous expansion. Village tiles grant “movement points” to allow the player to move his meeples around, or to promote one to chieftain and remove it from the board for future points, but these opportunities are limited. A player also needs to consider the potential for future activations of the tile when placing it – you don’t want to place a tavern at the edge of your territory where you might not activate it again during the game, to pick an obvious example.

Glen More includes three scoring rounds and a final round of additional scoring, much as Vikings did. The intermediate scoring rounds grant points for whiskey barrels, chieftains, and special tiles; the player with the fewest in each category gets zero points, and other players receive 1-8 points depending on how many more tiles they have than the player with the fewest has. A delta of one receives just one point, but a delta of five or more receives eight points. At game-end, players score for their special tiles (some of which carry significant bonuses) plus one point per coin, and then lose three points for every tile they have in their territories above that of the player who has the fewest.

The game is designed for 2-5 players, but with two or three players there is a dummy player represented on the track by a die that has values of 1, 2, or 3. When that die is at the head of the chain, it’s rolled and jumps back over the number of tiles shown on the die. The tile selected is discarded, as well as any others that ended up ahead of all players plus the die in the chain. The dummy-player variant for two players is pretty common – Alhambra and Zooloretto both use it – but in Glen More it works much more smoothly; losing tiles is a bummer, but you’ll adjust your strategy and won’t lose anything too significant along the way. Without the die, tile selection would be way too predictable, and with four players there’s enough variation that that element of randomness wasn’t necessary.

By far the best part of Glen More is the number of ways to win. If there’s a single dominant strategy, I haven’t seen it, and from reading the forums on boardgamegeek I don’t see evidence anyone else has. You can mix it up based on the tiles that come to you, or just pursue a specific strategy (whiskey!) because it’s fun without costing yourself the game. The rules could be a little clearer on activation and player movement, but we figured those out on the fly once it became clear we’d misread them on the first pass. The fact that it plays as well with two as it does with four puts it in very select company among German-style games, most of which don’t scale down to two or only do so with clumsy rules variations. And for whatever reason Glen More isn’t as expensive as most games in the genre – it’s available for as little as $25.50 right now on amazon, including shipping. If you don’t mind a bit of a long ramp-up on learning the rules, I highly recommend it. It’s one of the best games we’ve played on the more complex end of the spectrum, and doesn’t take as long to play (under an hour) as most complex games take.

Lines of Gold app.

Boardgame designer Reiner Knizia has been active in pushing his games into the app space, with at least ten adaptations of existing physical games already available for iOS. He’s also moving into the puzzle-app space, with his latest release the $0.99 app Lines of Gold
icon, one I found strangely addictive even with a heavy element of randomness.

In Lines of Gold, the player has a board of 12 spaces connected in multiple lines of three that run horizontally and diagonally and must place tiles one at a time to try to create patterns where all three tiles match in at least one attribute across those lines. Tiles appear one at a time from the stack, so there’s little advance planning. Each tile has three attributes: color (copper, silver, gold); image (coin, bar/trapezoid, or wine glass); and number of images (1-4). A line with three of a kind earns points or extra tiles in the stack to extend the game; a line of three identical tiles earns a bonus round with entirely random results of more points or tiles.

However, any line of three tiles without any pattern costs the player two ways. There’s the loss of a tile from the stack, and there’s the loss of “pressure.” Every successful pattern moves up two gauges, one for scoring multipliers, another for “pressure” that in turn makes the scoring multipliers gauge move faster. A line without a pattern drops the pressure gauge back to zero – even if the same tile play produced a pattern on another line.

Once placed, a tile can’t be moved for any reason, and the limited number of spaces means you will often be forced to place a tile that will prevent you from creating a pattern on one or more lines. You get new spaces on the board once you fill the bottom two lines plus the left and right spaces on the line above that, at which point the board drops the bottom line and adds an empty line at the top.

At some point – I still haven’t figured out when exactly – a storage area opens up so that the player can store one (and eventually up to three) tiles from the stack, which makes the game play a good bit less random. In the first stage, you’re at the mercy of whatever tile comes up next, so other than understanding what tiles are more or less common (e.g., the copper tile with a single coin is the most common), there’s not a ton you can do to plan ahead. With two tiles available at any moment, you can sketch out a little more of a strategy – but at that point there are more tile types in play, so the game isn’t easier, just more of a thinking game than a quick-move puzzle game.

I certainly got my 99 cents’ worth by playing it four or five times over the weekend – a full game lasts 10-15 minutes once you get the hang of it, and I had one of about 20 minutes that put me (temporarily, I’m sure) on the global leaderboard – but overall I’d rate it behind the other Knizia puzzle app I’ve tried, ClusterMastericon, which is free to download but offers a 99-cent in-app upgrade to get more options within the game. ClusterMaster involves placing pieces of up to three colors on a hexagonal board of hexagonal spaces where you need to organize colored hexes adjacent to each other to make them disappear from the board. The “stress” game only lasts about 90 seconds, and there’s a lot more advance planning involved because of the limited number of shapes you might see and the balance between going for a large bonus (where you blow up a bunch of hexes at once through multiple patterns) and ensuring you don’t run out of room.

* My quick reaction to the Derek Lowe trade is posted now.

The Year of the Hare.

I’ve got a new blog post up on ESPN.com about Aroldis Chapman and Matt Purke with some other AFL/instructional league notes.

Also, congratulations to all of my Cardinals-fan readers. It’s a little scary to think they pulled this off before any of their high-end pitching prospects reached the majors.

And finally, boardgame designer Reiner Knizia has a new solitaire puzzle/game app available called Lines of Goldicon for just $0.99. I’ve played it twice so far and find it surprisingly complex for a simple set of rules; you can play it quickly, but playing it well seems to take a lot of forethought and a little luck.

Arto Paasilinna’s The Year of the Hare is the most successful novel by Finnish author/poet, more a novella than a full-length novel, telling the story of a journalist who walks away from his life after his car hits and wounds a hare in the forest outside of Helsinki. He spends the next year wandering through the country, headed generally north, encountering eccentric locals and trying to reestablish the priorities in his life.

The protagonist, Charles Vatanen, is a disaffected if successful journalist with a shrewish wife and a boat he doesn’t need, so walking away from his life proves easier than it might for most men of his age. When the car in which he’s riding hits the hare and breaks its leg, he makes a splint for the hare and decides to carry it with him while nursing it back to health. His rejection of modern society and its rampant, empty consumerism leads him to take odd jobs in small towns in the Finnish countryside, including restoring a dilapidated cabin, where he ends up in an extended struggle with a bear who resents the human intrusion into his forest, a chase that goes on for an impossibly long period until Vatanen is arrested by friendly Soviet officials for illegally crossing the border. There’s also an alcohol-induced blackout, a peculiar lawyer, the illegal sale of sunken German munitions, and a wargame put on for the benefit of tourists that leads to a literal and figurative tug-of-war over the hare.

The problem with The Year of the Hare is that it’s more escapist fantasy than actual fable. A fable should have some point, whether it presents a metaphor for some aspect of life or mines humor from parody, but there’s no such cohesion in Paasilinna’s work here. We could interpret the scene in the church, where a priest sees the hare on the altar and ends up chasing it around the building with a pistol before inadvertently shooting himself, as a commentary on the decline of religion in Finland, but I couldn’t read that passage as more than slapstick, with a robed figure running through his own church shooting at a tiny rabbit and putting a bullet through his own foot as well as through the knee of the Christ figure in the apse. Vatanen isn’t running away from anything except the vapidity of modern urban life – something I think many readers can respect and understand regardless of wehre they live – but he’s not really running towards anything. It’s one thing to check out, but another to live as a vagrant without any kind of plan for survival once the cash runs out.

I can’t be certain of this but I believe the translation did Paasilinna no favors. Finnish is a Finno-Ugric language, like Hungarian (Magyar) and Estonian, completely unrelated to the Indo-European languages (including English) that dominate Europe, which might make the translation more difficult. Regardless, referring to a helicopter as a “warplane” or saying that, “The hare was rather nervous; the raven had evidently been molesting it while Vatanen was away working,” is like playing a piano that’s out of tune; either the translator doesn’t speak colloquial English, or Finnish is the weirdest language on earth.

Italo Calvino is probably the best fabulist I’ve come across, and while it’s not my favorite work of his, Marcovaldo: or the Seasons in the City is probably the best collection of fables I’ve found. The blurb for The Year of the Hare compares it to Life of Pi, but the latter book is far superior whether read as a fable or merely for entertainment, with plenty of room for differing interpretations of its meaning and its endnig. As for the comparison offered to Watership Down, putting a a bunny in your book does not make you Richard Adams.

Next up: George Gissing’s novel about struggling writers in late 1800s London, New Grub Street (also available free for the Kindle). Too bad Grub Street is long gone or else we might see an attempt to occupy it.