Writer of words and code

Category: Music (page 1 of 1)

Taylor Swift: The Chosen One

You can tell them anything if you just make it funny, make it rhyme.

Bo Burnham, Make Happy

Steph Curry ruined basketball1. I am not mad at him nor do I blame him. If my jump shot was better, I too would want to compete for Larry O’Brien trophies. In many ways, Curry has improved the game of basketball, but his style of play has certainly destroyed what the game once was.

Historically, basketball has been dominated by freakishly tall centers: George Mikan, Bill Russell, Wilt Chamberlain, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, and many more. With Bird and Magic in the ‘80s, this became less true, but we are still talking about a power forward and a 6’9” point guard who could play any position on the floor. In the ‘90s and ‘00s, the most popular players were Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant, but centers and power forwards were still superstars in the league: Hakeem Olajuwon, Karl Malone, Shaquille O’Neal, Tim Duncan, etc.

Steph, however, changed that2. No player has ever been so effortless at shooting threes, and the second most dangerous 3-point shooter in the league was his teammate, Klay Thompson. No longer could players keep their distance from a ball handler past the 3-point line. Even a half-court shot needed to be contested. The Splash Brothers widened the field of play. In doing so, the paint and the centers who dominated it became less important3.

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When We Were Young 2024: The Kids Are Alright

Friday 3pm

French fries taste better in the car. The spuds are still piping hot and crispy, having not yet been ruined by steaming inside the bag. I am already in vacation mode, so the first waffle fry on my tongue tastes of salty deliciousness, not fattening guilt.

We are grabbing a bite before getting on I-17. E, J, and I are heading to Vegas for When We Were Young music festival. L is joining us tomorrow. This is my second year attending. For the other three, it is their third. We converse for the first three hours of the trip, catching up after months of not seeing each other. The long drive eventually saps us of energy though. The second half of the ride is spent listening to music. The volume steadily grows. We are going to Las Vegas for pop punk and emo, and this is our first taste of the weekend.

The playlist repeats, but we do not notice until “Vindicated” by Dashboard Confessional plays for the second time. The darkness of the desert is broken by the distant haze of light. Las Vegas nears. Soon enough, E and J are dropping me off at Park MGM. I am too cheap to stay closer to the festival grounds. I grab a slice of Roman-style pizza and a Peroni from Eataly. The pizza crust is overdone. 

I review the lineup for the fourth time on my phone. No perfect solution exists. WWWY is stacked with the biggest artists the genre ever had. Missing some of the bands I want to see is inevitable due to overlap. I go to bed a little salty about the plethora of riches in front of me.

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