If you missed the first installment, feel free to browse it and catch up, and if you don't read the intro, note that NSFW status is being lyrically implied for all clips. This series has been a blast, and we hope you've enjoyed reading. 10. Doggystyle, Snoop Doggy Dogg
bankmeister: I don’t want to sit here and drop pallets full of praise on Snoop Doggy Dogg, which is tough on a cracka’, ‘cause I loves me some Snoop. I really do. The contributions he made to style, flow, rhyme, and beats both independently, and via collaborations were and are immeasurable. I could go in 10 different directions on that, but I must show some initial restrain and acknowledge that, post-Doggystyle, Snoop’s solo career (10 albums) has been one of two things: either the best-kept secret in the history of all the forevers, or absolute crap. I’m of the belief that it’s the latter, but I’m also hopeful and eager that I can be proven wrong with that assertion.
But we’re not here to dogg on the man; we’re here to talk about what an atomic bomb Doggystyle was. November 23, 1993 was when Snoop forever lowered the boom on hip-hop and rap by delivering his debut album. I suppose there might be some in the critics circles that would say that such a selection, or such a genre, must be removed from the broader discussion when it contains (some 25) samples, but I am not part of such a circle, and I prefer to focus on the finished product, which was swift, bold, and striking.
Technically, the album contains 19 tracks, but it’s more like 13 if you cut out the semi-non-sensical skits and interludes. When you get to the content of said 13, however –- and here’s where I show my age –- I posit that no album, since its release has had the track-to-track power of getting a room moving, and singing along. It’s the beats produced by Dr. Dre, coupled with the smooth delivery of Snoop’s raps, that has made the album such a staying force, all the way back to the era –- when MTV still didn’t completely suck –- from whence “Gin and Juice” was born.
“Gin and Juice” gave us an uber-favorable beat, and the table of contents to the pamphlet of synonyms for weed. It also gave us a music video with the then-becoming-common blurred-out images, and an international acceptance for the buzz associated with a hooch-booze combination. Powerful as it was, “The Shiznit” might be the album’s tightest track. The punch delivered by the aggressive beats of track five, along with the melodic flute and high-flying lyrics have perhaps left the number as one of the best sleepers in G-funk history.
“Lodi Dodi” was always fun, a track most folks remember all of the lyrics, too, even if it had some less-than-savory lyrics. If “The Shiznit” doesn’t take the title belt of Doggystyle’s badassery, then “Murder Was the Case” does, no doubt. Not a fan of “Serial Killa.” Never have been. But, the album comes right back strong with the “For All My Niggas & Bitches,” “Ain’t No Fun (If the Homies Can’t Have None)” pair, and “Gz and Hustlas” is also solid late in the mix.
Ultimately, Doggystyle, I don’t imagine, will ever be shelved. Enshrined in the halls of musical awesomeness for eternity, Snoop’s debut will likely never see another contender that legitimately challenges the quality of the entire album.
9. Sublime, Sublime
Old No. 7:
8. (two-way tie)
Master of Puppets, Metallica
Old No. 7:
Ten, Pearl Jam
bankmeister: Taking Ten with my first pick was tough. I went on instinct, thinking that this album was as important in high school for my colleagues as it was for me, so I thought if I didn’t bite right away, it’d be gone. In hindsight, I probably could’ve nabbed it in the seventh or eighth round, and not lost out on Three Feet High & Rising, which Cecil ruthlessly stole from me in the fifth. I may, in fact, go to my grave blowing the robbery whistle, while face-palming myself on that one, which probably sounds like a Special Olympics zerbert. But Pearl Jam.
It seems that, at least once a year, Pearl Jam goes on tour or releases a new album, and the masses go absolutely bonkers. I’m always late to that parade, and that doesn’t bother me, because, on the inside, I’m thinking: Wow. Really? They’re still around?
I know, I know. The Pearl Jam masses just fainted, had heart attacks. I’m not trying to belittle the magnitude of the band, besmirch their history, or any of that stuff. It’s just a reflection of where I’ve been musically since August 27, 1991, when it dropped, and the easiest way to summarize that is to mention where I haven’t been: paying attention to Pearl Jam. The reasons why are simple: I enjoyed Vs., maybe gave Vitalogy two listens (though never owned it), and decided subconsciously that they were either going to either fizzle out, never touch what Ten was ever again, or somewhere in the middle.
I could be a massive nerd and break down each of the tracks on Ten, but I’m not going to. All I can say is this: I had a solid group -– about a dozen -– of buddies in high school. We, as my old man used to say, were thick as thieves, always wanted to know where the next party was, what girls were going to be there, and we always rocked and rolled. This is not to say that every other group of American dudes out there was doing anything different. I just wasn’t hanging out with them.
Now, each of us had our own musical preferences, and that was always some hybrid of a) what you liked individually, and b) what the group liked. This absolutely never, ever failed to come up when together. Whoever’s mom’s house we were at would look something like this: Rock out to something from (b) until someone was drunk, stoned, or both enough to attempt to woo the group with something from (a). And if it wasn’t that it was this: Rock out to something from (a) until some was drunk, stoned, or both enough to insist we put on something from (b). The something from (a) category was, as you might imagine, a nice mix of stuff too boring to get into in the middle of a Pearl Jam write-up.
But the something from (b) category, mixed as it might’ve been, too, was a special kind of bonding agent, and you’d better bet your bottom dollar that Ten was high, if not tops, on that list. If there were $15 million dollars on the line, there’s no way in hell I could accurately recall how many times we blasted that thing, “Once” through “Release.” Not even if you gave me a 25-listen cushion could I tell you. It was, for us, from junior year forward, an anthem for the ages, an album never to be forgotten. None of this is a tribute, per se, to the grunge/Seattle/’90s bit that we’ve all been spoon-fed by VH1, etc. It’s a tribute to that album at that time, and if given the funding and opportunity, I can guarantee you we’d rendezvous, clad in flannel, get smashed on Milwaukee’s Best Light (Editor’s Note: That part right there is a lie, as I promised my colon, some years ago, that I would never again consume the Beast.), swing from the basement rafters until dawn, howl ourselves hoarse, and enjoy every second of it.
I realize, of course, that not walking through each track does the songs and the albums a great injustice, but this release was, I think, that big, that you can likely insert your own synopsis of what “Garden,” etc. meant to you.
Oh, and I just checked: The Recording Industry Association of America has classified it as “diamond,” meaning 10 million units sold. So, yeah: You’ve got your stories.
6. It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, Public Enemy
Old No. 7:
5. Three Feet High & Rising, De la Soul
Cecil:
4. Paul's Boutique, Beastie Boys
Cecil:
3. Appetite for Destruction, Guns N' Roses
Old No. 7:
2. Nevermind, Nirvana
bankmeister:Nevermind was never really on my board, per se, but this was the final round of our 12-part draft, and it had not been taken. Old No. 7 and I agreed it needed to be included, and, seeing as how it was my turn in the rotation to have nine picks, it was agreed upon, and for good measure. I don’t imagine that anyone wants to read a wordy attempt at analyzing what Nirvana meant for music in the ‘90s. We all know their place, that they were important, and that Nevermind was most likely (Note: I’m not talking to you, hard-core Nirvana fan) their best album. It was really, really solid, ground-breaking, and even shocking.
It dropped on September 24, 1991, and was their second release, flanked by 1989’s Bleach, and 1993’s In Utero. Perhaps the reason why I could argue it to be their best is that it was the most accessible, or that music listeners were, at the time, more accessible to this brand of rock. Or maybe, Nevermind made listeners more accessible. I’m not sure. What I do know, though, is that it has sold over 26 million copies worldwide, and that number, my friends, is impressive.
Almost every track on this release has an unharnessable power. Of course you know “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” and if you’ve paid any attention to music in the last 20 years, you probably know “Come As You Are.” Maybe you even know “In Bloom.” What you might not know are tracks like “Polly,” or “Territorial Pissings,” and even “Lithium,” each of which is as jaw-dropping –- all in their own fashion –- as the more popular tracks from the album. I’m not hear to argue that Nevermind is the best thing Nirvana ever did, and I’m not hear to hop on board with the conspiracies that Courtney Love killed Kurt Cobain, and that the music world was forever robbed by her lunacy, or any acts associated with it.
I am, however, hear to say, that in the vacuum of the last two and-a-half decades, Nevermind was huge. Massive. And it was really good, too. To omit it or to replace it with any other Nirvana album would be, to me, a disservice to the rest of these albums’ peers.
And, your number-one album in the past 25 years is...
I’ve looked forward to assembling this post for the better part of two years, and if that makes me a massive nerd, that’s a charge I’m willing to accept. When this blog started, it flirted with, later consummated the idea that three brash, opinionated personalities could hunker down like hairy dogs, create seven-course meals of the finest wordsmithing, and make a little bit of unbridled magic. Of course I was biased, but only because the three of us had worked together before, and I knew the magnitude of my colleagues’ talents and abilities, two blessings they both still possess.
It also served as a bit of a personal challenge: Could I, being the minority in a Chiefs-Broncos ménage, compete? Could I be novel and fresh with my words, while trying to keep the animal leashed in some sense? Could I improve my writing skills to a level comparable with theirs?
It could be said that both all and neither of those things were accomplished, but it’s been fun, nonetheless, and the reason why I’ve looked forward to this particular post so much is because the three of us are music lovers, and our affinity for our specific brands is, in some sense, a nice parallel to our personalities in general. On my end, I am, and always have been, a music snob. I view the concept of song through some sort of Coke-bottled kaleidoscope, and I want every man and woman to share in the beauty of what I label as great. This has the plus of being very passionate about said labeling, the negative of limiting my exposure, appreciation.
Cecil is a fascinating animal when it comes to the audio art form. Someone once said to me that, “People who, in this present time, are into punk and punk rock and the genres related to them, are in it because it was anti-establishment, anti-mainstream, and anti-anything at the time they got into it. So, to stray from it now, or at any point since becoming permanently invested in it would diminish the power and notion associated with the initial attachment.”
I use quotes there, but that was a paraphrasing, one crafted to the best of my recall ability. But when I heard those words, I thought of Cecil, which, in true punk style, probably pisses him off to some degree. Here’s the interesting twist, though: He may or may not have invested himself in punk for any or all of the aforementioned notions. He did, however, get into it, at one point in his life, and into it he stayed, but I believe that he got into it because he truly loved it, and because that’s really who he is. I could sit here and try to dice the thing beyond brunoise, but I know that he still loves this music, and that, perhaps, he still loves it because of that idea. It’s not important, really, but it partially defines him, and makes all of our non-punk music debates all the more interesting.
Old No. 7 is not quite, but almost that guy, that, when asked, says, “I like everything.” Here’s the twist on him there, though. He actually does, kinda/sorta, like everything, and not just in some kind of surfacey way, either. If you put his iPod on shuffle, you’d probably get some Metallica, some folk, some hip-hop, some rap, some good-old-fashioned rock, and probably some Tchaikovsky followed by some polka. That is, his taste, you could argue, is broader than mine or Cecil’s, and just when you think it’s maybe a little too broad, he’ll pull out some B-sides and shock your socks off.
None are better than any other, none are less educated, hold lesser value, or pack more punch. They’re simply different. Old No. 7 has mentioned that writing about these kinds of things is difficult because they’re subjective. You can’t dial up innings pitched, or Oscars won, or assess a quarterback rating and compare it to strength of opponents. You can look at sales, I suppose. You could research live-performance attendance numbers. Or, I suppose, you could look at Grammys. None of that is what we want to do here, though. We want to write about what we like, simply because it’s moved us, and just maybe, it’ll move you, too. All of that said, here’s what we came up with, and to be safe, please assume NSFW status regarding lyrics in all clips:
25. Mushroom Jazz, Mark Farina
bankmeister: At last inventory, there were seven installments of Mushroom Jazz out there, and I won’t try to compare one another, or select a best out of the series. To simplify things, I’ll refer to the initial record (1996), but you, beloved reader, may feel free to extend the sentiments conveyed to your personal favorite, or to the series as a whole. Your choice. First, a preface is in order.
In the simplest of terms, and for the sake of understanding the inclusion of Mr. Farina on this list, let’s break music fans into two temporary groups: those that believe spinning records and sampling constitutes “making music,” and those who do not. For those who do not, it may be worth your while to stop reading now, but again –- your choice.
Mark Farina never gets a lot of credit on the inner DJ circles. Maybe it’s because what he does is so different from everyone else and the credit he’s due is supposed to come in some other form. I’m not sure. What I do know, however, is that virtually every album he’s released has been really solid, and musically eye-opening for me, and hopefully others. In essence, Farina takes great cuts from several genres and bleeds them into one another in continuous fashion. Each album is like an all-night dance party without the cover charge, crowded dance floors, and synthetic drugs. And the best part is that he blends in varying beats, impressive sample loops, and a crafty hybrid of lyrics. Mushroom Jazz is like a stripped-down version of hip hop’s greatest hits that gets layered with elements of Latin jazz, and spliced with a dose of house music. Attempting to further explain the basis of what he creates with already-created music might do the end product a disservice, so I invite you to have a listen:
Mark Farina and his Mushroom Jazz compilations were never concerned with reinventing the musical wheel. What they wanted to do was take the best parts of the top-tier wheels in existence, make four superwheels out of them, and put them on an exotic vehicle, which he successfully did. The Mushroom Jazz movement. Make sure you get you some.
24. (two-way tie)
Reign in Blood, Slayer
Cecil:
My War, Black Flag
Cecil:
22. Lost...Presumed Having a Good Time, The Notting Hillbillies
bankmeister: Like my selection of Traveling Wilburys Vol. I, I found it impossible to participate in this draft and not take this album as one of my picks. Taking Vol. I allowed me to include a few artists that I’ve enjoyed for a long time, even if they hadn’t produced a Top 25-qualifying album in the last two and-a-half decades, and make no mistake: That album definitely makes the cut. Missing… falls under the shade of the same tree.
Mark Knopfler has always been an amazing musician. Dire Straits, in my mind, have always been one of the most underrated rock bands in history, especially their earlier stuff. Knopfler’s solo albums are powerful and impressive in their own light, but perhaps not solid enough for placement on the list. Missing…, however, gives me the opportunity to tip a hat to Knopfler’s body of work, and also discuss an incredible album.
I read somewhere that this release had been dubbed a country album. I couldn’t disagree more. It’s not that big of a deal, I just think that’s too narrow a scope under which to view such an eclectic collection of songs. To me, it’s got a healthy mix of blues, folk, some swing/rockabilly, and some kind of calypso/polka hybrid as well, and quite frankly, it’s just packed with soul and emotion. The Hillbillies tackle the notion of work, love, heartbreak, patriotism, pride, and loss, just to name a few, and they do so with such canorous style that it would be a shame to omit it from inclusion.
21. Traveling Wilburys Vol. I, The Traveling Wilburys
bankmeister: I won’t lie and say I didn’t feel a little nerdy drafting this album with my fifth pick, but the nostalgic homebody in me couldn’t resist. Recorded in the spring of 1988 (and released that fall), Vol. I saw “Handle with Care” get some play as a single, and when “Last Night” followed it, I bit and bought the thing, which was not a mistake as there’s not a bad cut on there. Really. Not one.
If you’re unfamiliar with the Wilburys, let me help you out from under that rock: George Harrison handled lead, slide guitars, and sang; Jeff Lynne (Electric Light Orchestra) did some guitar strumming, played some keys, sang; Tom Petty played bass, sang; Roy Orbison played rhythm guitar and sang; and Bob Dylan did his guitar/harmonica/singing thing. They “super group” made plans to produce another album, but were forced to see the project through without the amazing contributions of Orbison, who died before the recording sessions began.
Vol. I, though, also included a touch of horns, some percussion, and your run-of-the-mill drum kit, played by Jim Keltner, which is a pertinent detail for three reasons: 1) Each member used a savory pseudonym in the project, as they were all purported to be sons (with different mothers) of the imagined Charles Truscott Wilbury. Petty, for example, went with Charlie T. Wilbury, Jr. as his moniker. But it was Keltner who took the nicknaming to another level, coining himself Buster Sidebury. 2) Keltner looks like a hybrid of Bill Engvall and Tom Cruise. 3) Buster Sidebury is the name Old No. 7 uses for all of his other blogging projects.
Seriously, though. You might ask how an album that has four guitar players (and a bass player that usually plays guitar) can wind up good, or great, or classic. And you certainly might wonder how such a record can wind up on such a list of prestige. Those would all be fair curiosities, too. And I’d answer by saying that, on the one hand, it was a miracle that each of these massive (Editor’s Note: I may or may not be squeezing you out of the picture for a minute, Mr. Lynne.) musical figures can get together and record music without significant clash of ego, but it happened. On the other hand, what did happen turned out to be a real, genuine, feel-good production, a water-tower-sized jar of sun tea, if you will.
Traveling Wilburys Vol. I is the musical equivalence of laughter among friends, of staying warm by the fireplace mid-winter, of hard-fought accomplishment, and of unbridled joy. From the bellowing vocals of Orbison on “Not Alone Anymore” to the comforting drone of “Congratulations” to the youthful fun of “Tweeter and the Monkey Man” and through the radio smash “End of the Line,” the TW’s first studio effort is one for the vault, one for your kids and your grandparents to enjoy together, and one to sing along with until you’ve darn near strained your diaphragm.
20. It's a Jungle in Here, Medeski Martin & Wood
bankmeister: Although they continue to produce records, I’ve wondered since the first time I heard this trio what the staying power could be for such a peculiar ensemble. The jazz-based root funk of John Medeski, Billy Martin, and Chris Wood now spans 20 years since their 1991 formation, and includes some 18 releases, beginning with Notes from the Underground.
It is It’s a Jungle in Here, however, that lands them on our charts, and that’s impressive, considering the 10 tracks comprise an all-instrumental production. Em-Em-Doubleyou play organ/piano/keyboard, drums, and bass, and they tackle with aggression a number of compositional varieties in what’s been called experimental jazz fusion.
Jungle hit stores in October of 1993, and the delivery it has today is just as strong as it was over 17 years ago. In fact, there’s an oddity about the music of MMW that can’t be said for very many bands. Most outfits record an album, and maybe they have but one or two good tracks on them. Maybe the release is above the norm and the majority of its cuts are top-notch. With Medeski, Martin, and Wood, however, every track that they record and produce can be labeled with the subjective “good” tag, meaning that these are talented individuals creating unique and amazing music that’s often amplified by the inclusion of also-talented guest performers.
Where variance comes in in rating the music, though, is, more often than not, done so on a scale of tolerability. What I mean by that is that MMW has demonstrated a tendency to balance their musical productions on the scales of atonality, or lack of key, which, in my mind, is uncomfortable on the ear. I say “uncomfortable,” though, to convey a sense of discomfort, not dislike, although personally the two often go hand in hand.
Atonal is not something most listeners are used to, but it’s also one of the best mediums for musical experimentation, which is precisely the alley that MMW paved for themselves. They tinkered with this a bit on Notes, and have done so on nearly every other album they’ve released, so much so that, for me, I prefer to listen to a compilation of favorite tracks spanning most of their albums.
Jungle is the lone exception, though. They sat down for a mere three days and crafted (what turned out to be) approximately 55 minutes of beautiful, eloquent, elaborate, and witty free-form jazz that is, all in all, tremendously pleasing to the tonally accustomed ear. I’m far from qualified to discuss the structure, history, and evolution of jazz, and I could say even less about experimental music or so-called fusion, but I know a home run when I hear it, and MMW’s second studio effort was a crisp trot around the base path, one that absorbed the sun, smelled the grass and the hot dogs, made eye contact with a fans along the way. I’m not one of these guys that has lists of must-own albums because musical tastes vary too far, too wide, but I’ll challenge any music fan to sit down to this one and come out afterwards with a downward thumb. Scope some samples here.
19. Songs for the Deaf, Queens of the Stone Age
Old No. 7:
18. The Uplift Mofo Party Plan, The Red Hot Chili Peppers
Cecil:
17. Huevos, Meat Puppets
Cecil:
16. Sex Packets, Digital Underground
Cecil:
15. Elephant, The White Stripes
Old No. 7:
14. (two-way tie)
In the Aeroplane over the Sea, Neutral Milk Hotel
Cecil:
Rift, Phish
bankmeister: In short, being a Phish fan is somewhat of a full-time job. Sure, the band has developed one of the most impressive followings in rock history, and they continue to kill the box office in terms of ticket revenues, but that’s what they’re known for: the live show. They’re also, in my mind, known for massive criticism from the music mainstream that can be attributed largely to the type of fan they attract, as well as their jam-band status, meaning that they have lengthy live numbers that may seem endless and without structure to the common ear. I’m of the opinion, however, that they are the most talented group of musicians to come along in the last 50 years. Yes, they even surpass the Grateful Dead.
This doesn’t mean to imply that they, on individual levels, are better at their craft than your particular favorite, but as a group, what they do as a unit, I would stack against anyone.
The problem to me is that the discussions seem to frequently begin and end with the live performances, and this is precisely why they continue to get crushed by the mainstream. On the inside of the circle, however, you have message boards, podcasts, Tweeters, etc. that continue to analyze highlights and lowlights of live shows, and frankly, the motifs and the vocabulary are occasionally incessant.
On a personal level, Phish has always been about relationships, specifically relationships that I have with each song on each studio album, and how those relationships flourish (or occasionally recess) when seeing the band perform live. And in reality, that’s no different than the relationships I have with songs by other artists, simply because I believe that a listener develops a kinship with a song, exists with it in good times and bad, and hearing a song live is like a release of all of the moments of the relationship.
Therefore, picking albums for this selection was tough. A small part of me wanted to take nothing but Phish albums for all of my selections, but that would’ve been foolish. There were three or four releases that really fought tooth and nail to win the one spot reserved for the band on my board, and in the end, Rift had to be the winner.
It’s been called their sixth release, but to me it will always be their fourth, and it came out February 2, 1993. A little over a year later, I heard it for the first time, and was hooked. I’d like to say that it would still be my lone Phish selection, had I heard another album first, but obviously I cannot make that claim. I do, however, feel that it’s the strongest album (out of 12) they’ve put out to date. There are plenty of other releases beyond the 12, but I’m including only albums that involved studio-recording sessions produced by a noteworthy label.
It’s possible that I’ve listened to Rift more than any album in my collection, so there’s some inherent bias, but the title track with which it kicks off might be the strongest track-one I’ve ever heard. Shared vocals, dueling instrumentation, and a great story line are the primary reasons why. The run of “Fast Enough for You,” “Maze,” “Sparkle,” “Horn,” and “The Wedge” are one of the most compelling runs I’ve ever experienced, and “Weigh” is solid as well. And its closing duo –- “The Horse,” attached to “Silent in the Morning” -– is likely also the strongest studio-album wrap-up ever laid down.
I could write 10,000 words on this album, and still not feel satisfied that I’d done it justice, but we’ll leave it at that.
12. Chronic 2001, Dr. Dre
bankmeister: When I selected Chronic 2001, questions arose as to why this November 16, 1999 release was taken over its seven-year previous predecessor, The Chronic. The answer is simple: The album released near the close of the century is a solid 10 times better. Making such a loaded statement requires some backup, and backup is what I’m prepared to deliver.
Perhaps the most important component in a direct comparison of the two hinges upon importance. The Chronic came out in December of 1992, and is one of the biggest solo-album statements in hip hop history. I say “biggest” because it was the first notable release coming from an artist who had previously been part of collaborations, thus paving the way for many a future rapper. But let’s back up yet another step.
While many artists in the rap, hip hop genres produced records both great and small, I’m of the opinion that N.W.A.’s Straight Outta Compton (August, 1988) took things to a new, unprecedented level. From that group, the world was exposed to MC Ren, DJ Yella, and most importantly, the trio of Eazy-E, Ice Cube, and Dr. Dre, who would all go forth from N.W.A. to have successful solo careers. Eazy’s debut Eazy-Duz-It hit stores one month after Straight Outta Compton and has sold roughly 500,000 fewer copies than Compton, though I posit that E’s solo debut grew in popularity first, only to be matched, and eventually overcome by the N.W.A.’s effort.
My colleagues and I have had conversations regarding the aforementioned trio from N.W.A., namely who was the best, who was the most important. I continue to waver on the details of this debate, but my current stance looks like this: Eazy had the best voice, but Eazy would possibly never have amounted to anything were it not for the intelligence and production of both Cube and Dre. Ice Cube is credited for writing a substantial amount of both solo and group material, while Dre deserves accolades for both rapping contributions and production. Ice Cube, globally speaking, could be the most important figure of the three, but I believe Dre gets a slight edge over Cube in terms of his body of work, style of rap, contributions to the genre.
So, Straight Outta Compton and Eazy-Duz-It were huge, but The Chronic, having its path somewhat paved for it, had a bigger impact and a larger reception (over three million copies sold). All that said, it is not Dre’s best work; the 2001 follow-up is. Chronic is a really stacked production, don’t get me wrong. Most of the tracks have solid beats, excellent sample choices, and profound lyrics. Plus, there is substantial comic relief in the form of interlude, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the solid lineup of guests: Snoop, Daz, Nate Dogg, to name a few. But it doesn’t match the integrity displayed in 2001, which track for track, is crisper, cleaner, and packed with more punch.
2001 has only one thing against in when comparing the two Dre releases: the audacity continuum. When Chronic was release, the audience was still getting used to the bold motif expression of sex, drugs, money, and crime. That is, other artists had done it, none with as much sparkle as those from the N.W.A. family. When Dre dropped Chronic, it had similar themes, but came at you with a larger sense of seriousness, or, hardassery. Any unpolished bits that remained in it as a release, were smoothed in 2001 via experience, dedication -– one month of recording for Dre’s debut; most of two years for the follow-up –- a broader range of emotion, and yes, an even star-studdier lineup of guests: Nate and Snoop back, Eminem, Kurupt, Xzibit, Jay-Z, and the D.O.C. added to the mix.
The main thing, though, is the focus of 2001. The beats, the instrumentation, the obvious upgrade in production, the themes and emotions explored, and, although more isn’t always better, it does have eight more tracks than Chronic. I mean no discredit to Chronic when I say this, but it has its weak points, and frankly, no matter how you slice it, the start-to-finish quality of 2001 is A-grade material.
11. No Depression, Uncle Tupelo
Old No. 7:
That's the first installment. The top 10 up next. Read more
bankmeister: Thurman Thomas was a Cowboy. An Oklahoma State Cowboy. He finished school in 1987, and the Buffalo Bills scooped him up in the second round of the draft. He spent 12 years (one final, nine-game season in Miami) in that uniform, and amassed more than 16,000 yards from scrimmage. Thomas managed an impressive eight consecutive years where he rushed for 1000+ yards, and in total, he scored 65 rushing touchdowns. Fourteenth all-time in career rushing yards, Thurman Thomas finds himself just above John Riggins, O.J. Simpson, and a game or two’s worth of yardage behind Marcus Allen.
There wasn’t anything particularly impressive about Thomas’ running style. He wasn’t flashy, but he was your textbook, north/south, between-the-tackles, pound-it-down-your-throat kind of ball carrier. What was impressive about Thomas was that he could do that game after game, year after year, seldom missing a start, while, at the same time, putting together admirable receiving (an average of 47 catches a season during that eight-year stretch) numbers.
In total, Thomas found the end zone nearly 90 times in his career, he made Pro Football’s Hall of Fame in 2007 after being a finalist the previous season, and like so many of the Bills of that era, you have to give them credit for continuing to come out and compete in the 1994 season (1442 total yards and nine scores for Thomas), having lost four consecutive Super Bowls.
Thurman Thomas, gentleman, scholar, Hall of Famer, and one of the best tailbacks of the last two and-a-half decades.
Cecil: The theme of Curtis Martin’s career started off being “well, he’s not as good as Terrell Davis.” If you’re an NFL running back and that’s the worst thing they say about you, you’re doing it right. Unlike Davis, Martin was no footballin’ comet illuminating the firmament briefly, wondrously, indelibly, before disappearing; he was a reassuring night-light that head coaches left plugged until it finally, wayyy past its expected lifespan, burned out. Not as memorable as the cosmic pyrotechnics, no. But more valuable? Undeniably.
Think about this: over the course of an 11-year career, Martin failed to rush for 1,000 yards exactly once, and that was his final season. You can argue -- I have, and will again -- that reaching a thousand rushing yards is a feat somewhat lessened by the 16-game season, but still. For a position as physically demanding and conducive to shortened careers as running back? The fact that he played 11 seasons by itself is kind of amazing, but to lead the league in rushing yards and attempts 10 years in, as Martin did, is, frankly, boggling. That stuff just doesn’t happen.
Yet he never really gets the respek afforded guys like Davis (a personal favorite of mine for obvious reasons) precisely because he was so workmanlike, so regular. Another 1,000 yard season, another 9 TDs, yawn. Lotta steak, but the sizzle was generally absent. Part of that had to do with his style: he was a grinder, not a gazelle. Part of it had to do with a general lack of postseason success: he left New England before their reign of dominance, and his one Super Bowl appearance there was mostly memorable because his team was on the beating end of a Brett Favre/Reggie White pummelthon.
But at the end of his career, the numbers fail to lie: 14,000+ yards, 100 TDs. Five time Pro Bowler, once a First Team All-Pro. Martin’s an undeniable Hall of Famer and one of the finest backs of his generation. Even if no one really remembers what he looks like.
4. Eric Dickerson
bankmeister: Eric Dickerson is the first NFL running back that I thought would threaten to take the throne from Walter Payton as the best I’d ever seen. Luckily for my wishes as a kid, his career only lasted 10 years, and the final four of those 10 tapered off massively. Dickerson attended Southern Methodist University, and was taken by the Rams with the second overall pick of the 1983 draft. He went to six Pro Bowls, rushed for 13, 259 yards, and, on 90 occasions, crossed the goal line while toting the rock.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t note Dickerson’s 78 career fumbles, which has got to make Ricky Watters feel better about himself, but Dickerson had some pretty significant seasons. Thrice he led the league in rushing attempts, four times he earned the rushing title for most yards on the season, he had the most rushing TDs in 1984, and in five different seasons, the oddly bespectacled one led the league in rushing yards per game.
Like I mentioned, though, Dickerson’s career tapered off: After consecutive monster seasons with the Rams, then Indianapolis, he played 16 games in a Raider uniform, suited up four times with the Falcons, and then failed a physical with Green Bay, prompting his retirement. It, therefore, goes without saying that Dickerson was phenomenal for a stretch, but had said stretch been significantly shorter, phrases like “flash in the pan” may have been thrown around regarding his career. As it stands, you have to include him in conversations regarding rushing greats, but he will always remain a tier below the all-time best backs. Eric Dickerson, NFL Hall of Fame, class of 1999.
And the number-one rock toter in the last 25 years is...
(Editor's Note: Duh.)
1. Barry Sanders
bankmeister: I’ve said on several occasions throughout this series that one of my colleagues was likely more qualified to comment on a particular topic/person than I, and Barry Sanders is no exception. It’s not that I can’t copy/paste his stats here, or come up with something clever to say about him. It’s simply that I probably watched about seven seconds of live, Barry Sanders football. For reasons that are unnecessary to explain, there just wasn’t, and isn’t, a lot of Lions football on the tube, which leads us to the one thing all of us can say about Sanders: You have to wonder how much better his career could’ve been, had he not been drafted (third overall) by Detroit in 1989.
That said, Sanders backed up Thurman Thomas at Oklahoma State for two years, which might be the first contributor to the reasons why Sanders was so incredible in the NFL; he didn’t get beat down for four consecutive college seasons. He absolutely went bat-sh** bananas, though, his junior year, won a Heisman, and bailed for the pros, where he has the insufferable Wayne Fontes to thank for making him a Lion.
They go-to move here is to talk about the numbers that Sanders put up across 10 professional years, to highlight the swelling tumor of suckitude Detroit has always embodied, but all of that would be injustice to our number-one guy.
So, I’ll say this: Has any NFL player ever gone to a Pro Bowl in every season in which they played? Has any running back ever averaged 1500+ yards a season? Or 1800 yards from scrimmage? I honestly don’t know, but I sincerely doubt it.
Barry Sanders is not first on the all-time list in either: rushing attempts, ground yards, or touchdowns. He’s close in all three, though. What matters is that watching Barry Sanders run the ball (Editor’s Note: gleaned via clips, highlights) was nothing shy of jaw-dropping. He was graced with some kind of athletic miracle, some droplet from some golden halo in the heavens that allowed him to simply make plays happen.
In sports, we often hear our coaches and our players say, Great players go out and make plays. I disagree with that sentiment. Good players go out and make plays. Great players go out and make great plays happen almost every time they touch the ball. Great players do not come along but perhaps every 50 years or so. Great players invent things on the fly. Great players have an impeccable focus, a sharp eye that sends lightning-speed messages to a lucid mind, ability to process that rapid-fire information, and produce something with the gift of talent they’ve been given.
Barry Sanders did that on nearly every snap for a straight decade. He missed seven games in that stretch, and I’d be willing to bet all seven were bad losses. This list includes a lot of incredibly talented athletes, and yes – some of them were great. But none of them, friends, was Barry Sanders great.
It’s been said that Sanders praises Fontes in his book, that he’s not bitter about the way things went down in terms of who drafted him, how his career developed, but it’s also been said that the losing absolutely took a toll on him, and he hung up the spikes quote/unquote early.
And that’s too bad in a sense. It’d be nice to see Sanders atop all of the career-totals lists, but, in the end, for him, that was likely not as important as getting Ws.Read more
Here we go with selection 11/12 in the now-infamous HoG25. It started over 20 months ago, when we held a borderline-ridiculous, two-part, fantasy-sports-style draft. The idea was to come up with 12 categories -- six sports-related, six not -- draft 25 people/things from each category, rank them, and write about them. It was an idea that was not all that fleshed out, one that was intended to reinvigorate the contributors of this blog, one that would be finished by Thanksgiving 2009. April Fool's, what?
We are, nevertheless, going to finally finish this project, which, may one day stand on its own two legs, but for now, we can only admit that the muscles used in creating it have gotten a touch flabby, as it's no longer the brisk spring of 2007. We no longer crank out a half-dozen posts a week, we no longer receive 35,000 viewers a month, and we no longer generate thousands of pennies per fiscal year. There are, as it were, the proverbial mouths -- the spouses, the pets, the children -- to feed, the mortgages to stay ahead of, and the -- if I may speak for all three of us -- mundane jobs that require daily attendance, considerable chunks of focus, attention, and effort.
That said, the list that follows is far from complete. If you're so inclined, have a look at the write-ups included, peep the links for the stats in those that are not. 25. Deuce McAllister
Cecil: Deuce had that look, even in college. That “my thighs are, quite literally, the size of your chest” look. That “if I hit the hole with even a modicum of build-up, I am going to put a cleat mark on your face” look. That “yeah, yeah, so big backs like me get hurt a lot, what the fuck is your problem?” look. Deeeuuccee had the looooooooook (sung to the tune of that song. You know. Not going to look it up, but the folks who did it were Swedish. No, not Abba. The other Swedish ones…no, not Ace of Base either. You know what? Never mind.)
It was that last look that cursed Deuce -- he only spent one full season healthy in the League, and that single healthy season saw him rush for more than 1,600 yards, catch 69 passes and account for more than 100 on the ground every game. He was the focal point of the resurgence of the Saints, who’d fallen back on their familiar hard times after the heady, defense-heavy Dome Patrol ‘80s, and with then QB Aaron Brooks’ only occasional bouts of competence, was pretty much the team’s entire offense. Which is probably why that was his only truly healthy campaign.
But man, when he was, he was a load. He played at around 230 pounds but had the light feet of a much smaller back. His career totals are pretty decent for an 8-year career, considering how much he was hurt: more than 6,000 yards and 50 TDs, almost all of which came during a five-year span. Deuce is definitely one of the best pure running backs in recent memory. If he’d played on grass, for a team that could achieve some semblance of balance, I’d wager he’d be a lot higher up on this list.
bankmeister: Five-time Pro Bowler Ricky Watters might’ve been a stretch in this little selection, but hey –- any Golden Domer is an all-time great in my book. Once Mr. Watters finished his South Bend schoolin’, he was selected in the second round of the 1991 NFL draft by San Francisco. His career was but 10 years, but we all know now that that’s about average for the modern-day back.
He logged over 10,000 yards in his time between the professional hash marks, and in half of his seasons, he crested the 1200-yard mark. It’s no surprise that his best season –- the 1996 campaign in which the Philadelphia Eagles beat him like a rented mule -– included career highs across the board: 1411 yards, 13 trips to the end zone, and 353 rushing attempts.
If memory serves, Mr. Watters was not graced with the largest of hands, and his 43 career fumbles attest to that. It’s actually not that bad, though, if you consider that that averages to a mere four-plus per season, and factor in that he’s 17th all-time in career rushing attempts. He’s also 20th in career yards, which warrants him a spot on the list, as does the fact that he won a NCAA national championship as a wide receiver, and a Super Bowl ring with the 49ers and Coach George Seifert.
Watters continues to be left outside Canton, Ohio’s doorstep, allegedly due to his hot-headedness, and occasional off-field antics. If you had a vote, would you put Ricky in? For Who? For What?
bankmeister: Putting together a feature like the HoG25 is tricky, to say the least. We have a specific window from which we’re drawing, we’re taking specific categories, inserting a particular population into the categories, ranking the members of said population, and then defending the whole thing in some hybrid of seriousness, comic relief. In attempting to compose such a complex picture, many pitfalls come into place, some greater than others.
For example, I can select a person as part of a population, and maybe, via statistics, awards, popularity, or some combination of all three, I attempt to defend my selection. Whether or not a defense is successful is left to be determined. Perhaps the trickiest pitfall of all, however, is the one associated with the aforementioned window of time. We came across it in baseball, and probably, to some degree, in each of our already published categories. What happens if person X, or thing Y was universally accepted as fantastic up until 1986, or 1987, and then tapered off?
Is it responsible to omit that person or thing because they didn’t commit a certain chunk of time to the window? Is the window greater than the person or thing itself? Would it be more or less responsible to flex the window so as to include whatever person or thing you’re targeting? I posit that Walter Payton epitomizes this whole conundrum, and he does so because, at one point in time, football was no bigger than Walter Payton himself. He had the talent and the productivity any fan, owner, coach, and teammate would want playing for their team, and he had the personality to go along with it.
It would be foolish to suppose that some of the shenanigans in which our current football players engage were not happening before the explosion of access to the league via ever-expanding media (both traditional and social). But the fact remains that, in my humble opinion, if you put Walter Payton on a 1984 NFL team, or on a 2010 NFL team, Walter Payton will still be Walter Payton. And quite frankly, I don’t know that I’ll ever have the opportunity to write about Walter Payton again, so that’s why I drafted him, and that’s why I defend drafting him, even if I did so with my third pick of the round.
Payton attended Jackson State University, and was drafted in the first round by the Chicago Bears in 1975. He had a better-than-decent rookie season (679 rushing yards, seven touchdowns), doubled those numbers as a sophomore, and maintained that level of production, with little variance, until his final season (1987) in the league. Payton had some massive seasons in the mid-late ‘70s, but he also came on strong again in the mid-late ‘80s. Perhaps that was due to his team being superior. Perhaps it was due to Payton himself, his “Never Die Easy” mantra.
But if you’re hung up on staying focused on the window, we can do that: From 1984-1987, Payton totaled 6551 all-purpose yards, and scored 38 touchdowns. He did so via 1172 rushing attempts, and 164 catches. For my money, that’s pretty impressive considering that he turned 30 three months prior to the start of the ’84 season. Sweetness is still at the number-two slot in career rushing attempts (3838), yards (16,726), and is number four in career rushing touchdowns with 110. I’m aware that a good chunk of that happened pre-window, but I wanted to make it known that a healthy chunk happened inside of it, too. Walter Payton was elected to nine Pro Bowls (including ’84, ’85, and ’86), and was inducted into the pro football hall of fame in 1993.
13. Priest Holmes
bankmeister: It would be utterly ridiculous for me not to get at least one homer pick in on this group. Nobody needs any more Charlie Sheen references, but I really could’ve picked any of two and-a-half men that carried the football for the Kansas City Chiefs within our window here. And I don’t have a complex about it: I was humble enough to wait until the 16th round to select Priest, unlike Sir Cecil, who went – shockingly – with Terrell Davis in round two.
Priest went to Texas for his post-high-school education, but I forgave him for that exactly 10 years ago, when he put on the handsomest helmet in NFL history. There are many, many reasons why I admire the hell out of the always-incognito Holmes, but I think the big three are as follows:
1) At Texas, he was in the shadows of Ricky Williams.
2) Leaving Texas, he went undrafted.
3) Upon being signed as a free agent by Baltimore, he was in the shadows of Jamal Lewis, and it was only after he left defending-champion Ravens did he get his career truly started.
Once he did, he quickly put together an impressive four-season stretch in Kansas City, compiling 5482 yards, 70 touchdowns, and a staggering 7645 all-purpose yards between 2001-2004. Priest was the epitome of quiet, elusive away from the football field, except for when he was playing chess with Joe Posnanski, or spearheading a Priest Holmes Foundation project.
Since his retirement, his family still makes their home in San Antonio, but Priest still comes around for the occasional appearance at KC metro elementary schools, always with the message of “Stay in school,” and always with a smile. If I had to guess, I’d say that Ricky Watters and Eddie George will one day experience Hall of Fame enshrinement, while Priest Holmes will not. But in my mind, the three-time Pro Bowler is one of the best I’ve seen, for a brief span, when it comes to a solid ground game.
12. Eddie George
bankmeister: When I think of Eddie George, I think of all those mid-to-late ‘90s Chiefs teams that tried like hell to have success with the stupid Running Back by Committee approach. God, I used to think. Can’t we get a guy? A primary, bad-freaking-ass, rock-toting guy? A guy that will be on the roster for many seasons? A guy like Eddie George, maybe?
I’ve never had much to think of, or say about, the Houston Oilers or the Tennessee Titans. They’re mostly unimportant in my book, but you have to give them credit for somehow managing to keep successful guys around for chunks of time. Guys like Warren Moon, Jeff Fisher, and, yes –- guys like Eddie George.
I’ve also never had much opinion about Ohio State University, save for the fact that I think they have two really dumb traditions: the tacky Buckeye leaves on the helmet, and the uber-annoying Monday Night Football introductions. THE Ohio State University, however, is in fact where Mr. George matriculated, nabbed himself a Heisman trophy, and, upon commencement from that institution, the Oilers made a first-rounder out of the tailback.
He went on to log nine NFL seasons, and I’m pretty sure some crumbly knees prevented him from adding to 10, 441 yards, 68 touchdowns, and nearly 2900 carries. I’ll point out his monster 2000 season, where he crested the 400-carry mark, compiled 1500 yards (1962 from scrimmage), and 14 TDs. Since retiring after the 2004 season, Mr. George has made quite the little metrosexual career for himself, hanging with Jason Sehorn and Tim Brown on some football show, as well as appearances on MTV, a couple of reality shows, and in an –- ouch –- Steven Seagal movie. But, hey -– he’s an Obama supporter, and a four-time Pro Bowler. Win, win.
11. (two-way tie)
Jerome Bettis
bankmeister: I’ll bet that you were unaware that Jerome Bettis hails from Detroit, Michigan. You weren’t? Well, I’m not sure how you knew, you avid researcher. What I bet you really didn’t know was that Bettis attended the University of Notre Dame, and in 1993, was a first-round pick of the Los Angeles Rams.
What? You knew those things, too?
Alright. Fine. Last one: Jerome Bettis replaced Bam (of the weed-slinging, national-car-theft-ring fame) Morris as the primary Pittsburgh Steeler tailback in the 1996 season, having already amassed 3000 rushing yards in two varieties of Ram jerseys. He also appeared on “The Office,” was once considered one of the best bowlers in the National Football League, and is a partial owner of three minor-league baseball teams. Oh, wait: That was me that didn’t know any of that.
Interesting stuff, when compared with 13, 662 career rushing yards, 94 total touchdowns over 13 seasons, and a most-impressive number-five slot on the all-time ground-yards list. Ahead of Bettis are: Curtis Martin, Barry Sanders, Walter Payton, and lucid articulator Emmitt Smith. What amazes me most about Bettis’ career is that, outside of Pittsburgh, and outside of fantasy-football circles, I imagine that the first half of Bettis’ career statistics were not major blips on the casual football fan’s radar screen.
That is, when the Steelers got consistently good at the end of Bill Cowher’s, beginning of Mike Tomlin’s careers, Bettis just sort of walked into a household-name status. Everyone knew who the Bus was, and exactly why he had the name he did. But how many folks knew that Bettis had amassed nearly 8500 career rushing yards heading into the 2000 NFL season?
Fine. Maybe everyone did. I was unaware. Jerome Bettis was a beast for the duration of his career, and if you add his numbers, post-season success, and six Pro Bowls together, I believe the sum you will reach has Canton scribbled somewhere in the result.
The Iron Triangle of the House of Georges is still sorting out the final installments of our now infamous HoG25 series. Until it's complete, rest easy knowing that John Clayton will see your skewed 25, raise you 10.
Keep in mind that the HoG's very own Cecil, when he's not over-occupied with the notion of flogging the dolphin to his Peter King scrapbook, he's really over-occupied with the notion of rubbing pieces of John Clayton's underwear all over his skin.
For real. From my side of the fence, the list looks okay. I'd probably swap five and six, though. Read more
We're back, and not a moment too late, with part two of our take on the idiot box. If you dropped by yesterday, you'll see we offered up picks 25-11, which, admittedly was a fantastic read. We can all but guarantee that you'll agree with us on at least nine one of our top 10 picks, which you're welcome to peruse, on two conditions: The first is that you must click the little "Read More" tab, and condition two is that you must comment, in the provided space (Editor's Note: This means you, and no, "I was going to comment, but..." will not suffice). So hop to it, Skippy, before you miss your favorite show. 10: The Sopranos
Old No. 7: Just as baseball is an individual game masked as a team sport, The Sopranos was a comedy masquerading as a Mafia drama. The show had moments of intense action and serious themes of life & death, crime & punishment, loyalty & betrayal. But what made it great were the laughs.
No other show has ever made better use of the malapropism. Christopher Moltisanti longed to "create a little dysentery in the ranks," while Tony wisely pronounced that "revenge is like serving cold cuts." We loved these guys, guys who had no education and little sophistication yet controlled a criminal empire that brought in millions. As with any well-made Mob film, we rooted for the bad guys and hoped they stayed one step ahead of the law. The cops in The Sopranos were given a human face and decent story lines, but were still cast as bumbling straight men to the comedic wiseguys.
There's a reason James Gandolfini doesn't get any more work, even though he's a very good actor. The character he created in Tony Soprano had such depth, such power, and such hidden emotional frailty that is is impossible for anyone to see Gandolfini as anyone other than Tony. He's this generation's Archie Bunker or Ralph Kramden, a larger-than-life family man who repulses us with his temper and draws us closer with his charm.
9: The Cosby Show
Bankmeister: Where, when discussing The Cosby Show, does one begin? It was one of the best television programs of the 1980s, and also of the past 25 years. Why it was so significant is a multi-layered cake. For starters, it was based, to some degree, on the personal and professional life of one Bill Cosby, who just might be one of the most interesting figures of the 21st century. Prior to the television program, Cosby had successfully starred in stand-up comedy, as well as children’s television programming, i.e. Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids and the Picture Pages skits on Captain Kangaroo. The street- and book-smarts of Cosby exuded from all three of these endeavors, but it was his work on The Cosby Show that we acknowledge here.
The beauty of Cosby was that it gave the viewing audience a somewhat suburban view of life in New York City, a metropolis almost always depicted as urban. It showed a functioning family of seven and did an impressive job of evenly distributing the focus of each family member and their issues for most of its eight seasons on the air. At a time when the American divorce rate was reaching unforeseen highs, this family exuded a sense of unity with both natural sibling rivalries and, although seemingly occasionally tilted, a pretty even distribution of power between the mother and father.
The family managed to balance the demanding careers of both parents, while still suggesting a realistic portrayal of ample time for healthy, successful child rearing. And the issues each child dealt with were very real to life: attempts at parental manipulation, household responsibilities, puberty handcuffed by teen intimacy and the occasional “early” pregnancy, reading disorders, violence, drugs, friends, and education. This was all done on a season-by-season basis, in a fashion that included culture, extended family, and of course, humor. While it certainly had its corny moments, The Cosby Show was a sitcom that cemented itself into a position of all-time great
8: Sesame Street
Bankmeister: I’ve not yet delved into parenthood, but I feel somewhat safe in saying that the kind of child you were probably has a heavy hand in determining what kind of parent you will be. I also feel like what kind of child you were was largely congruent to how much Sesame Street you watched. Let me back up: Sesame Street is one of those that, for the purposes of this series, we could/should leave alone because here, in just two short months, the program will celebrate its 40th anniversary. That, of course, projects it beyond 25 years old, but it also, in my opinion, singles itself out in the fact that it has been good enough and popular enough to be on television for 40 freaking years.
To be fair, Sesame Street probably deserves its own post, but in that same vein of fairness, we’re not doing that for any other show. Now, we, in this installment, are discussing shows that have to do with crime, comedy, sports, and, among others, animation. Sesame Street, to me, is above and beyond all of them combined, in that it captures the minds of children, and in the pure essence of doing that, educates them. Sounds corny, I know. But really -– the kids need something like Sesame Street, especially these days when they’re developing faster, getting pregnant sooner, and in some sad cases, dying younger, be it via disease or crime.
But back to my original point: Sesame Street was one of the major cornerstones of my childhood. I remember riding my bike, swinging at the park, and doing chores singing “Can You Tell Me How to Get to Sesame Street?”. I think of Cookie Monster’s “’C’ is for Cookie” every time I eat a chocolate chip. I hear the words to “Rubber Duckie” every time I see a duck on a pond or a kid in a tub. I think of the ol’ 1-2-3-4-5 pinball-machine tune every time I hear a kid counting. The interaction of people and puppets, them learning together -– hell, the interaction of different ethnicities living harmoniously, the everyday things we do in life like going to the dentist or milking a cow are just a few of many, many things kids learn every time they tune in to Sesame Street.
There are about four billion reasons why Sesame Street rules. Jim Henson and Frank Oz are two of them, but the rest are too many, the list too long to explain exactly why. Sesame Street kicked and still kicks all the ass.
7: David Letterman
Old No. 7: For this I'm folding Dave's old NBC Late Night show and his current CBS gig into one. I know, I know, he was more edgy in the later time slot and his monologues have turned painfully predictable. But Dave is the king of late night TV, every other host including Conan O'Brien and yes, Johnny Carson is jockeying for second place.
For years, though, Letterman lost in the ratings to Jay Leno. I could never, ever understand this, because Jay Leno is awful. He's an awful person and I'm sure he smells like a dumpster. Yet year after year Leno posted better numbers, which to some validated NBC's decision to pick the big-chinned knuckle-dragger over Dave's gap-toothed excellence. Who, on God's green Earth, actually watched Jay Leno?
Then I found out -- it was my dad. My dad loves Leno, and he even loves his new prime-time show that has received shittier reviews than Jake Delhomme. Apparently Jay Leno is a big car collector and aficionado of fine vintage automobiles, a hobby that appeals to my father. When I pointed out to Dad that Letterman also likes cars and is from Indianapolis and never misses the 500 and once owned an open-wheeled racing team -- in addition to being 600 times funnier and less annoying than Jay Leno -- Dad didn't care. Leno fills a void for many older Americans, because he is safe and predictable and provides a platter of "humor" and entertainment that reminds them of a simpler time.
Letterman is, of course, the choice for folks my age, or at least those that don't prefer Conan or Jon Stewart after hours. And don't get me wrong, Conan and Stewart are undeniably awesome. But the awkwardness and earnestness that make Conan's stand-up so brilliant also hinders him with interview guests. And Stewart is confined by his fake-news shtick and delightfully acidic condescension. Dave's biggest strength is his honesty.
There are some nights that Dave doesn't like his guests, or doesn't like his jokes, or really doesn't like doing his TV show. He still plows through because he's a pro. But he doesn't hide his displeasure, you can see it on his face and hear it in his voice. And that truth is what makes Dave great.
Bankmeister: For the record, my dad was a fan of Leno, too. Drove me B...a-n-a-n-a-S!
6: Saturday Night Live
Cecil: It is nearly impossible for me to imagine a universe without Saturday Night Live. It's like pepperoni pizza and the starry night sky, like Puff the Magic Dragon and existential despair. It's just there, hardwired into my cultural memory. I'll be on my deathbed and the last flickering image tracing the inside of my mind will be of Chris Kattan and Will Ferrell leg-humping some some guest celebrity. Maybe Drew Barrymore or one of the Tilly sisters.
There have been good years and years that, well, sucked flaming barbed demon cock. It's totally inconsistent season to season -- you think you have the makings of a good cast at the start, then a few episodes in they lapse back into the overlong and ill-conceived sketches that inevitably mark their down periods. You can break the show's history down in eras like geology: the late '70s were regarded as being some of the best American comedy of the 20th Century, even though the humor hasn't really worn all that well, and the early '80s were terrible, except for Eddie Murphy, and then he left and they were terrible again until Adam Sandler and Dana Carvey and Chris Farley, then they really really blew for almost an entire decade. Tina Fey oversaw a brief burst of quality and then fled. The results since have been mediocre at best.
Yet still, there it is goes. It'll just keep on a-soldiering, pumping out episode after celebrity-hosted, bloated sketch-packed and occasional belly laugh-riffic episode. And I'm sure we'll keep on getting terrible movies featuring ex-cast members, garbage like Corky Romano or Fat Albert. My advice, ala Bob Knight, is to lie back and enjoy it. These days I fall asleep 15 minutes in anyway.
5: Sportscenter
Old No. 7: There's really no point to explaining this show, because if you read this blog you have watched more hours of Sportscenter than any other television program. Probably ten times as many hours. Is there another show that you would leave on and allow to replay over and over and over again? Of course not. But you've done this with Sportscenter.
The anchors, of course, come and go, and some are annoying and some are great. I loved the years of The Big Show with Dan Patrick and Keith Olbermann, but looking back I don't really know why. Those guys weren't actually that funny, and when they try to recreate their glory years on NBC's football show they're downright agitating.
What Sportscenter did is condense the most visceral parts of being a sports fan -- the awesome plays. Sure, you cared about who won and who lost, and you cared about the stats in the box score, but you could get all that in the paper the next day. Bob Ryan could describe in vivid detail a Michael Jordan dunk, but you could read that story a hundred times and not get the impact one replay on Sportscenter gave you.
Plus, in recent years it's become the go-to repository of loony-tunes postgame press conferences. Repeat after me: Playoffs? Practice? I'm a man! I'm 40! They are who we thought they were! There's a bunch of assholes out there watching football games like a piece of shit with no pride! All brought to you by Sportscenter. Duh-duh-duh! Duh-duh-duh!
4: Seinfeld
Old No. 7: I love this show, despite the fact that I dislike every main character and the finale of the series was the worst TV show I've ever seen.
Curb Your Enthusiasm had a chance to surpass it as the greatest comedy in television history, but then Larry David's neuroses overtook everything, including his own life (on which both Curb and Seinfeld were partly based).
3: The Simpsons
Cecil:Simpsons creator Matt Groening was a respected and successful cartoonist for years before his sketches on the Tracey Ullman Show turned into the most popular television program of the last two decades, but as great as Life in Hell was -- and it really, truly was -- no one will remember the guy for Binky, Sheba, Akbar or Jeff. What's truly amazing is how long the show's peak lasted; for about 10 full seasons, up until the late '90s crash in quality, there wasn't a funnier show on television. Not even Bob Dornan on CSPAN could compete.
The Simpsons is such an important cultural touchstone for our generation that I spent several years of my life speaking little but quotes from the show. There are so many good ones that you can apply to daily circumstances, especially if you wear an onion on your belt (it was the style at the time.) In its heyday, the laughs would come so fast and furious that you'd have to wait for a re-run to collect all the chuckles you missed the first time.
Most impressively, it was never, ever, cruel or mean-spirited. (At least during the glory years it wasn't; by the time they started writing whole episodes around celebrities, it dropped back to Earth.) The characters weren't just cutouts with catchphrases, they were textured, complex and human. The shadow of its greatness looms large over every animated show that's come after -- one of my former co-workers at the Rocky once asked me if I liked Family Guy, and my response was, "Yeah, back when it was called The Simpsons."
2: Cheers
Cecil: Remember when Boston didn't seem like it was quite so full of doucheknockers? More like a blue-collar city where you could walk into a local bar and hobnob over beers with a group of quick-witted characters? Sure you do -- that time was the '80s, and you thought that because of Sam Malone and company.
Cheers was more than just the best televisions show of its era. To my mind, it stands alone in the history of the medium as being the one program that was as good the day it ended as it was in the first episode -- not M.A.S.H, not All In The Family, not The Simpsons, nada. There was no creative dip, the writing was always excellent and, amazingly, the cast remained virtually unchanged over the course of what, 12 years? New characters came aboard -- Woody, Frasier Crane, Lilith, annoying Kirstie Alley -- Coach left because he died and Dianne Long left because she wanted to make Troop Beverly Hills, but the core group never split apart, which happens to nearly every successful show. Think about it: McLean Stevenson left M.A.S.H, Sherman Helmsley left All In The Family, funny left The Simpsons. But Cheers just kept on bringing the clever, year after year, fake beer after fake beer -- that kind of consistency is rare in any form of entertainment, and almost nonexistent in television.
It's also one of the very few shows that I will unfailingly tune in for re-runs. It's amazing how well it aged -- maybe because "a guy walks into a bar" is just one of the great dictates of comedy.
Bankmeister: Coach: (with telephone receiver clutched to chest) "Some guy on the phone wants to speak to an Ernie Pantusso."
Woody: "Coach, that's you."
Coach: "Oh, right. (places receiver to ear) "Speaking."
1: The Wire
Old No. 7: The setting of any TV show is important, and that venue becomes a character in and of itself. We've all seen countless shows set in New York or Los Angeles, as well as Milwaukee (Happy Days and Laverne & Shirley), Las Vegas (CSI), Miami (Dexter), North Jersey (The Sopranos), Boston (Cheers), Cleveland (Drew Carey), Springfield (The Simpsons) and Cincinnati (WKRP). I've never felt a connection to any of those places like I did to the city of Baltimore through The Wire.
I've never been to Baltimore, but I feel as though I've lived there for years. I feel like I know what the streets smell like, or that I can sense the nip in the air as winter approaches. The word "genius" gets tossed around too easily these days, but I can proclaim with 100 per cent certainty that David Simon is one. He has created a masterwork of drama that will hold up forever.
Just watch this show. I implore you and I beg you, and I do that with full understanding of how annoying that is. I was hounded for years by friends and writers who told me I had to watch The Wire or I'd miss out on some grand cultural experience. I hate it when I'm told that I'm missing out on something, I hate it so much that I will usually intentionally continue to ignore what I'm missing out on, just out of spite.
Luckily I relented on The Wire, and I watched Season One in the least appealing way possible -- during a rebroadcast on BET, with commercials, and with the cursing and nudity edited out. My world was rocked, and I purchased that season and others on DVD before watching the last season on HBO. My current budget allows me neither DVD-buying nor HBO (damned reproduction), but a simple Netflix subscription or membership at your local Blockbuster is all that's needed to gain passage to David Simon's Baltimore and this tragically magnificent slice of America.
If you frequent the House of Georges, or even if this is your first time here, there's one thing you should know: We like to argue. We've made this our bread and butter for two and-a-half years now, and we don't have plans to change anytime soon. Thus far in this particular series, we've covered quarterbacks, movies, hitters, books, starting pitchers, and now it's time for us to tackle some boob tube. Please, join us after the jump for the first of two parts of what we've deemed the best television programs for the past quarter century. 25. The Tom Green Show
Bankmeister: I took a lot of grief for drafting The Tom Green Show. Sure. It had a large ridiculous element to it. Sure. It might’ve gotten old quicker than most hits. Sure. Other efforts -– see: Jackass and Crank Yankers -– at real-life absurdity may’ve been more popular, even though they debuted long after TTGS, but Green’s show was the first of its kind, that kind being a brand of television that would bust your guts and make your cheeks sore with laughter. When the program first aired in 1994, there was a lot more on-set conversation than skits, a ratio that would sway heavily in the opposite direction. It was in these early years, however, that the content of the show, with very little actually happening on it was so damn funny that it frequently made me tear up.
There’s something to be said about genuine laughter, too. I’m a big fan of stand-up comedy, and one of the first to admit that there are very few comics that can just kill it. I don’t mean to compare Green or his show to the efforts of some of comedy’s best, but the ability to instill such horrific laughter is praiseworthy at best. The Tom Green Show, as egocentric as it might’ve come across, attempted to do nothing more than to make people laugh, and for that I applaud it.
The low-budget set featured Green at his desk, pal/co-host Glenn Humplik in a neighboring chair, and other buddy/co-host Phil Giroux behind a window behind Green and Humplik. Giroux seldom did much beyond sip his coffee and chuckle, but that was all it took; it was God-damned hilarious.
If I could find more clips like that, I’d finish all of my selections with them and little more. But the show progressed and they hit the streets. There was the time he pretended to be a cripple:
The time he spent in Japan, where he most notably rode the subway:
And the list goes on:
It would be foolish of me not to mention the tens of dozens of pranks he pulled on his parents, which he’s probably most remembered for, but I would argue that these bits were very far from his best work. The idea for the show was original, bold, daring, and frankly, one of the funniest (at times) bits of television ever recorded. I’ve never looked at ratings or tried to gauge its popularity, but for a moment, The Tom Green Show was one of the best damn things on television, period.
24: Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood
Cecil:Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood has no equal in the history of children's television -- well, OK, you can make a very tight case for Sesame Street, but don't be bringing any Captain Kangaroo or Electric Company up in this piece, because we will fight. Nothing but love for those shows, but step away from Fred Rogers. That means you too, Sid & Marty Krofft supporters, with your sandal-socks combos and single-room apartments filled with He-Man action figures. If you mention Blue's Clues or Dora the Explorer, our security guards will escort you from the premises.
There is no equivalent in today's market. Can you imagine any kind of television executive, even one who works on the public airwaves, greenlighting a show that features a middle-aged man in a cardigan talking directly to very young children? But MRN worked because Fred himself was the real deal, a minister who approached this work with genuine grandfatherly affection for his little viewing audience. He never talked down to you, he never pandered to you. He calmly and patiently showed you the value of being kind, of listening to the opinions of others, of being respectful to the world. I would like to take this opportunity to quote from a column by the excellent Leonard Pitts, one he wrote following Rogers' death:
Consider something Rogers told Nightline when he retired from his program two years ago. He mentioned a letter he had received from a woman who had been abused and raped as a child. "She would find her solace," he said, "in going into a little room that had the television. And she said, "'I really believed it when you said that people could like me exactly as I was, because I really didn't like myself that much at first. But I really came to believe you."'
"The space between the television and the girl became," said Rogers, "holy ground. A place where she could believe she was seen. And that somebody cared."
And that's why you don't fuck with Fred Rogers.
23: Quantum Leap
Bankmeister:Quantum Leap was one of my favorite shows as a kid. I never really knew anyone that watched it religiously, so I didn’t get much opportunity to talk about it, but I thought it was fantastic, and still fondly reflect upon it. My reasons for holding it in such high regard are several:
Originality: While the concept of time travel has been written about, produced, and recorded in many ways throughout pop culture, it has never been done with the eternal desire to make right what once was wrong. That is, many characters in time-travel stories engage in the activity for personal betterment, be it past, present, or future. In Leap, however, Dr. Sam Beckett (Editor’s Note: Excellent name choice), played by Scott Bakula, participates in the project in order to save the life of an individual not related to Beckett himself. The project, though successful, goes a bit haywire, sending Sam into perpetual travel, ultimately making many things that once went wrong into potential corrections.
With the help of Al (Dean Stockwell) and Al’s device that connects him with Ziggy, Sam is left to figure out what situation he’s in, how he might go about fixing it, and of course, who he is.
Benevolence: Sam, Al, and Ziggy, regardless of the embarrassing nature of each situation, become invested, albeit in varying degrees, in each episode to be successful. Of course the ultimate goal is to get Sam home to his own body and life, but they (mostly Sam) wind up caring for those involved.
Twists: Sam lands in the bodies of many different folks, and often times is, or encounters a person of historical significance, almost always lending to an educational aspect for the viewer. Frequently, there is a love interest involved, which, if I remember correctly, happened exclusively in situations where Sam inhabited a male’s body and therefore found himself sought by an attractive female. As an adolescent, I likey-d the spice. Finally, with most shows, a conflict arises, and it is solved by the episode’s end, or it is long, and drawn-out through an entire season, if not multiple ones. The ability to resolve each extremely unique situation, move on, and continue to demand viewer investment with only two real characters, was a move seldom seen in television of the late ‘80s/early ‘90s.
I really enjoyed looking forward to where Sam and Al would find themselves next week, and with the snippets the last few moments of each show would give, always found myself mirroring Sam’s thoughts: “Oh, boy.”
22: NHL 2Night
Bankmeister: It’s not easy being a hockey fan in America. I won’t get into why: That horse’s good and beated dead. I’ll say this, though: Most everyone loves football. A lot of us love baseball. Some of us love basketball. I’m speaking of the professional organizations. We grew up either playing these games, watching them, or both. We get the rules. We’re, to some degree, inherently good at at least one aspect of one of those three games. Most of us didn’t grow up around hockey, so we don’t get it, we don’t think we’ll like it, or simply have zero vested interest in trying. I love hockey. I’ve been a fan of the game for many years. I pull for the St. Louis Blues, and, before I was married, I watched a ton of their games. Now I see fewer of them, but I watch when I can, I attend one or two a season, I still play recreationally, and I follow the National Hockey League.
Ten years ago, and actually even more recently than that, ESPN televised a lot of hockey. There were nights that games were on ESPN and on the deuce as well. The lockout happened, ESPN said “no thanks” to a contract renewal with the league, and thusly cancelled NHL 2Night. It had a great 10-year run (1995-2004) and was super-entertaining, even, I posit, to the non-hockey fan. I watch ESPN’s NFL programs. I find their baseball and basketball programs far from stimulating and tiresome, mostly because I catch the highlights, blips, and news bits I need either before those shows air, or elsewhere. Hockey was never given a ton of time on SportsCenter, and it gets even less now. But, when NHL 2Night was on, it was poignant, full of incredible highlights from all the game, and it was damn witty.
John Buccigross is probably my favorite anchor of all time. He’s educated, meshes well with all of his co-hosts, and he’s funny. He would oftentimes draw comparisons of key players to musicians, and he always killed it, leaving one with the impression that he’s got a wide taste in music. For example, and I’m totally making this one up, they’d show a killer game-winning goal by Joe Sakic, and Bucc’ would say “What Thom Yorke is to Radiohead, Joe Sakic is to the Colorado Avalanche.” He had many other varieties of clever sayings as well. Like, a clip with an amazing save from Martin Brodeur, and he’d hype the shot leading up to the save, and then holler, “Brodeur! Groovy kind of glove.” Of course, it sounds dumb and cheesy reading it, but when he did it, it was impressive.
In an 82-game season that has baseball playoffs at the beginning and football happening through roughly the first half, it’s hard to keep up with what the rest of the league is doing. NHL 2Night iced that cake eloquently and what better to pair Buccigross with than Barry Melrose. Barry Melrose might’ve worn 15 different styles of mullet in his day. He might be a Canadian. He might wear his hair greasy, and he might be a prick. But, the man knows his hockey inside and out, and he’s a damn fine television personality. With Melrose, Bucc’, and the content of the show, it was one of the best around, and certainly one of the best sports shows on in the last 25 years.
21: Friends
Cecil:Friends gets a lot of crap, and rightfully so. It basically set the template for bad '90s relationship comedies, of which there were a metric shit-tonne. (Yeah, tonne. I'm thinking of moving to Montreal.) While it's hard to forgive the dreck that it inspired, there are two reasons to give it a spot on this list, this list which features no Night Court or Murder She Wrote:
1. Sure it's easy to make fun of in retrospect, but admit it, you laughed. There were moments. Joey was appealingly stupid. Ross wasn't too bad before David Schwimmer started getting movie roles and Chandler, played by whatsisface, was a character on a sitcom. It batted about .285, 75 RsBI a year, solid glove.
2. Jennifer Aniston. Seriously the only reason that most guys would watch this show without a girlfriend's insistence. She might be kind of a pop cultural meta-joke these days, but we have to remember just how absolutely smoking she was in the mid-'90s. Yeezow. Assuming, that is, that you could make it through the umbrella-dancing opening before switching back to scrambled pornography.
So, there you have it. Friends. Not exactly The Rockford Files, but that one didn't make the generational cut.
20: Dexter:
Old No. 7: All right, I'll just go ahead and say it now. Comparing premium-cable shows like Dexter to broadcast programs is completely unfair. If you're on HBO or Showtime, you get three massive advantages over appearing on a network: You get to cuss, you get to show boobs, and you don't have commercials. The difference between a premium-cable show and a network show is greater than the difference between the superior American League and the inferior National League. It's more like comparing the majors with Single-A.
For this reason, I have a ton of respect for network shows that are good. The folks that make them essentially have one hand tied behind their back. That being said, Dexter is pretty fucking awesome. You see what I did there? I cussed. Like they do on Showtime. Unregulated sports blogs have advantages that corporate Web sites do not -- quick, post some nudity.
Although it's only been on the air for a couple years (Season 4 just premiered, yo!), Dexter deserves placement alongside these classic programs. It's got a clever premise -- forensic investigator moonlights as vigilante serial killer -- but what makes it great is its constant challenging of its viewers. Dexter Morgan (played by Six Feet Under's Michael C. Hall) is extremely likeable and charming, yet every once in a while he veers down a road that makes you wonder why you're rooting for him.
19: Liquid Television
Bankmeister: Let me state for the record that I absolutely hate MTV. It pisses me off when that channel is on in my home, or anyone else’s for that matter. The programming that airs on MTV is nothing but fake, retarded, mind-numbing crap, and I wish it would go away. I do, however, love the original concept of the channel. I have really enjoyed some of its productions over the years, but now I don’t even understand the point of it, its design, if you will. Part of that problem is the larger topic of television, which has gotten -– and admittedly based on demand -- so out of control, that networks make spinoffs of their own shows and programs and channels and the consumer eats it up. All of this, of course, costs more money, and I, am not willing to spend more than it costs to have the good old-fashioned basic-cable package. Therefore, I don’t even know where one goes nowadays to see music videos.
But now that that’s out of the way, Liquid Television opened up the viewing minds of America in 1991, and remains a cornerstone for off-the-wall, somehow-intellectual, creative television that you still see debuting and airing today, some 18 years later. I remember, somewhere beyond the baked cobwebs in my brain, this program coming on in the late evenings, stacked next to Unplugged, and feeling as if it was the best one-two punch on television, the Diff’rent Strokes/Silver Spoons of the new generation of you will. It gave us music videos, bizarre skits like Aeon Flux, Dog-Boy, Stick-Figure Theater, and of course, Beavis and Butt-Head. There were, of course, many others, all respectable in their own regards, but it was Beavis and Butt-Head that became the icon of the show in a fashion not comparable, but similar to The Simpsons coming from The Tracey Ullman Show.
Beavis and Butt-Head, uh, ruled and stuff. It was low-brow, mindless humor that somehow, reached millions of viewers and put Mike Judge on the Hollywood map. The two teen boys, with their rock tees and their dreams of stardom, poked around their unidentifiable-yet-familiar neck of the American woods with a timid-while-daring stupidity that always equaled a good laugh. They were, perhaps, the touchstone for dick- and fart-jokes seeping in to today’s media. They made boners and bowel movements more laughable than they already were, yet had the acuteness for pointing out other areas of an intelligence-challenged society. If I’d had the foresight to create a character that once called himself The Great Cornholio, I could probably hire someone to clean my bunghole with t.p.
18. In Living Colour
Bankmeister: Ah, the Wayans brothers. For a moment in time, they were the most innovative crew in television. Their program was like a new, shorter version of Saturday Night Live but with quicker, wittier sketches. Like SNL, they had live musical guests, but they also had Fly Girls. More on that, though, in a moment. The reason In Living Colour merits a presence on this list is because of its raw brand of comedy. The Wayans Brothers put together an incredible cast of up-and-coming stars that included Jim Carrey, David Alan Grier, Jamie Foxx, and Tommy Davidson to say the least.
The show’s more memorable sketches included: Homey the Clown, in which Damon Wayans would utter his token phrase, “I don’t think so…Homey don’t play ‘dat.”; Men on Film, in which Wayans and Grier were two gay film critics and would snap their synchronized fingers to movies heavy on the dudes, and offer their “Hated it!” in the direction of pictures that were not; the Homeboy Shopping Network, in which Wayans brothers Damon and Keenen Ivory would attempt to peddle stolen goods ("Mo’ Money, Mo’ Money!") until the cops arrived; Fire Marshall Bill, in which Carrey would portray a cooky fire marshall that always caused injury to himself, just after saying “Letmeshowyousomething!”; and of course Hey Mon, in which multiple cast members resembled a family who did nothing but work. They would frequently argue about who had more jobs and call each other lazy by saying something like, “You only got five job, mon.”
There were a number of other great sketches, like Great Moments in Black History, and several one-time pieces, like the guest appearance from Chris Rock, wherein his character could never afford anything and try to finagle his way into deals, always saying “My Lord! That’s a lot of money!” when told the actual price of an item. And of course, the Fly Girls. They were choreographed in the likes of a Madonna show or a Janet Jackson video: quick, flashy, and impressive. And they were all very fly indeed. In Living Colour was something to look forward to each week for a solid five years.
17: The X-Files
Bankmeister: The reasons why The X-Files kicked all the ass are many. First and foremost is the ongoing theme centered on the possibility of other life forms in the universe. If you haven’t thought about that at least once in your life, then there’s probably something wrong with you. The next is conspiracy theory. Never have I seen a show take its primary idea -– the paranormal, the extra-terrestrial –- and so successfully wrap it around the possibility of government cover-up. The third is the two main cast members, David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson. I’m not gonna lie: If I was held at gunpoint and it was demanded of me to name a man-crush, Duchovny would be at the top of the list. Honestly, I think he’s a great actor. I’ve enjoyed most every role he’s played, and specifically, the fact that he pulls a ton of wool in every one of them. For the most recent, check out Showtime’s Californication. The bigger part though, is Anderson.
I’ve had a pitched-tent that wouldn’t fit into Woodstock for her since the first time I laid eyes on her. She’s gorgeous, intelligent, and skilled at her trade. And gorgeous. The pairing of the two was a phenomenal move by show producer Chris Carter. Duchovny’s Fox Mulder is the believer in the paranormal, the poster boy behind the phrase “The truth is out there,” and Anderson’s Dana Scully is the doctor, the scientist, the realist, assigned to Mulder’s X-files to basically disprove every theory and idea he has. I became obsessed for a time with this program. I didn’t much care for the episodes that involved monsters and werewolves and the like, filler for the true plot in my mind. But it was the idea of aliens, abduction, the plan for colonizing earth and human beings for the greater advancement of alien life that hooked me.
Throw in mysterious characters like the Cigarette-Smoking Man and his band of know-all, beat-you-to-the-punch henchmen and the suspense couldn’t be any greater. I dug The Lone Gunmen. I dug most everything about the show until agents Monica Reyes and John Doggett were introduced. I stayed on board because it was good enough to warrant it, but I was massively disappointed by the series finale. I still find myself intrigued, however, by the occasional rerun, especially if involves the sultry Scully toying with the notion of finally giving Mulder a piece. This series had a huge following for a reason, and could’ve tapped an even larger audience had they gone the route of soft porn with the two agents. Fantastic show.
16: Six Feet Under
Cecil: If The Sopranos started that great run of HBO dramatic programming that continues to this day, then Six Feet Under took the anchor leg. Aside from the aforementioned show, it's the best thing that HBO has ever done -- and consider, upon reading the previous, that I'm a huge Deadwood fanboy.
The simple plot, a family who runs a funeral business and deals with (for the most part) the relatively normal ups and downs of life, belies the depth with which Alan Ball and company wrote it. Sure, he occasionally went to the well of complete ridiculousness -- the bit a few seasons in about the murder of David's wife, for instance -- but for the most part he worked with situations that were sometimes banal, sometimes brutal, sometimes revelatory, but always deeply rooted in the familiar. We could identify with the responsible son feeling pissed at his Peter Pan brother while dealing with his own closeted nature, with the teenage daughter who couldn't believe this family was hers, with the mom who finally took charge of her own life after years of giving care to everybody else and thinking of herself last.
The dead frequently spoke to the living in SFU, which might seem ham-handed on the surface but really acted as a nifty way of expressing a kind of poetic reflection that never resorted to any overt and simple-minded ghost story tricks. These scenes were some of the most poignant, such as when Ruth re-marries and her deceased husband -- one of the major characters, even though he dies about 3 minutes into the very first episode -- is shown sitting on the porch with his head in his hands, smoking a cigarette. Six Feet Under was a masterpiece of writing and acting and, probably, deserves an even higher mark than we're giving it here.
15: Friday Night Lights
Old No. 7: If there is a more misunderstood television show out there I'm not aware of it. Try to follow along, please.
The original Friday Night Lights was a 1990 nonfiction book written by Buzz Bissinger. Yes, the same Buzz Bissinger who completely lost his mind while appearing on a forum with former Deadspin editor Will Leitch. Bissinger's book spent a year in the life of the football team at Odessa Permian High in West Texas, and was excellent (I'm familiar with the area; my dad's alma mater plays in the same conference as Permian). But that's not the Friday Night Lights we're talking about here.
Then a movie was made based on the Bissinger book in 2004, directed by Peter Berg. It used actors playing the real characters from Permian, and it kind of sucked. Football's a difficult sport to turn into filmed drama, which is why there's never really been a good football movie.
Then Berg decided to create a TV version of Friday Night Lights, but instead of real-life Odessa Permian he manufactured fictional Dillon High. This is what gets confusing, especially for folks that either read the original book or watched the movie. It's also a little misleading to even say that the show is about football, or sports. FNL sidesteps the difficulty of recreating football onscreen by nearly ignoring the Dillon Panthers and focusing almost exclusively on the characters and struggles surrounding the team, the school and the town.
Friday Night Lights is such a brilliant, effective TV show that — sometimes — I don’t enjoy watching it. Very often, I will feel on the verge of tears throughout an entire episode; it is the most emotionally manipulative show ever made. Part of it has to do with its brilliant use of music; if you play "Explosions in the Sky" loud enough, the process of hanging drywall can be a life-altering experience. But the larger reason Friday Night Lights is so moving is the way it taps into all the conservative impulses most mediacentric intellectuals try to ignore. The show’s moral code is so traditional and pure that it borders on cliché. It’s reactionary in the best possible way. Whenever I watch it, I find myself thinking, I bet my parents would love this.
I don't know a single person who has given this show a chance and hasn't loved it. It is a critical favorite, yet has never received high ratings. This is surely due to the confusion about the book and movie, as well as women not wanting to watch a football show (and men thinking a football show will be weak). But my theory as to why FNL has never caught on is simple: NBC is basically locked into airing the show on Friday nights, and almost everyone has better things to do on Friday nights than watch TV.
14: The Office
Old No. 7: Yes, I've seen the original British version, but you'll never convince me that it's better. Steve Carrell's Michael Scott is simply one of the finest television characters ever created, Everyone has had a boss like Michael Scott at some point. If you haven't, I hate to be the one to break this to you: You are somebody's Michael Scott.
The thing that impresses me the most about this show is its ability to bring new characters in and ditch old ones yet never miss a step. I was a huge Toby fan, yet his absence is inconsequential. Adding Andy was awesome. Even additions that haven't worked, like when Stringer Bell had an arc and fellow Wire alum Amy Ryan played Michael's girlfriend Holly, were quickly dismissed and forgotten. I'm positive that even mainstays like Dwight Schrute, Jim Halpert or Pam Beesly could move on and the show would still kick ass. Only Michael is indispensable.
This is surely a testament to great comedic writing. I have no idea if Michael Schur (the brains behind Fire Joe Morgan and currently head writer on the dreadful Parks And Recreation) is still working on The Office, but whoever's cranking out these lines gets three cheers from me.
13: Family Guy
Bankmeister: When Family Guy first aired in 1999, it was so good that I was baffled when Fox canceled it after just a few episodes aired in its second season. Fox obviously realized its mistake and brought the show back, and it has been uber-successful ever since. If you’re unfamiliar with the show, then shame on you. It’s cast includes the family who, most notably include the talking dog Brian and the clever, British-accented baby Stewie. There’s the paraplegic neighbor, the lecher neighbor, the actual pedophile neighbor, and the black neighbor. There are others, too, but mostly the family has a conflict to resolve in each episode, and the means they take to get there are mostly in contrast to what normal problem-solving skills might resemble.
In addition, the dialogue in the episodes manipulate language in order to make innuendos and crude jokes, which, if you don’t find humorous, shame on you. There are the asides, as I like to call them, as well. Or tangents, if you will, in which various cast members are having a conversation about one thing or another, and decide that one choice would not be wise, as it might resemble “that time I…” and the segment breaks away into something unrelated, but typically funny. These bits, along with others, are often used to draw numerous pop-culture and ‘80s references into the program, which are pretty hilarious.
I understand that the show has been criticized for myriad reasons, but those critics are idiots. If you can’t embrace the horny, drunken dog, or the conniving, hysterical talking baby, then really, what’s left for you in life? Family Guy is the bizzle, dizzle.
12: 30 Rock
Cecil: Tina Fey is the shizzle. Not only is she one of the most deft writers currently working in television comedy, but that librarian-glasses-smart thing works for us in a big way. So does her current project 30 Rock, which I humbly submit to be the best show currently on any non-cable network.
It's so tight, so ridden with subtlety and sneaky jokes that it has achieved that rarified air, occupied in my viewing lifetime only by the glory years of The Simpsons, where I just can't get 'em all because I'm too busy laughing and have to wait for the re-run to see what I've missed. (Since I also mention this in my (redacted) bit, you should know that it's a very serious indicator in my eyes. I don't take this humor shit lightly.) Tracy Morgan has the role of his lifetime as Tracy Jordan, and its possibly because, according to pretty much every source I've ever seen, he's simply playing himself. The guy is a flipping loon. Alex Baldwin continues to prove that he is better than every single other Baldwin combined, and twice so in Stephen's case. Even Judah Friedlander has a role in which I don't find him obnoxious, which is something by itself.
This comedy that expects you to keep up, comedy that doesn't beat you over the head with cleverness -- because it doesn't need to. This is Jordan in his prime, Ted Williams in '41, Traci Lords pre-scandal.
11: NFL Countdown
Cecil:NFL Countdown was must-watch viewing for the entire run of its existence. That, it need not be said (though I am anyway, because I'm a contrarian asshole), is an unusual quality for any show, much less one with such a narrow scope.
Or was it, really? After all, practically everyone in America who isn't a gay terrorist loves football. They like to watch football, think about football, talk about football, slur insults under their breath to football players they see at bars. They even like to watch highlights of games they may have no rooting interest in -- maybe because they have a few bills on the Bills or a couple of bucks on the Ducks, sure, but also because fans of NFL football will generally watch anything remotely related to the sport. I know, I've willingly sat through at least 10 NFL skills challenges.
It's hard to remember, now, but Chris Berman wasn't always so creepy and lame. There was a time when he seemed like a jovial ringmaster, the comic foil to the deadly serious tone taken by so many analysts and anchors. He kept the show moving, hit his cues and you could hardly imagine him finding a better fit in his professional career. Tommy Jackson, of course, is an absolute hero whose name should never be taken in vain by any football fan anywhere ever. NFL Countdown was the perfect confluence of subject and personality; it's hard to believe that they decided it needed the shelf after such a run. I blame Berman.
There you have part one, folks. C'mon back tomorrow for the top 10. We'll be waiting for you. Read more
