It was a week of surprises in the entertainment world…things that shouldn’t have ended did and things that should have pushed on into new chapters…Down in New Orleans, Lil Wayne announced that he is looking to leave Cash Money Records, signaling the end his partnership with Birdman that has been a fixture of Southern hip hop for so long that the prospect of its dissolution seems physically unnatural, at the same time that it was wholly inevitable. Lil Wayne hasn’t produced anything particularly compelling since 2009, serving more and more as a brand to be stamped lucratively on other artists’ tracks by way of short guest verses, and it was only a matter of time before his fade from center stage caused rifts between him and the mentor and record producer he refers to as his adopted father. Still, the separation is saddening in the same way that it’s saddening to see a beloved but ancient city landmark suddenly declared a safety hazard and knocked down with a wrecking ball.
…Which seems to be a good approximation of former Creed-frontman Scott Stapp’s life situation right now; my friend and fellow Stapp-news enthusiast Max Thorn directed me to a Gawker article documenting his claims to be broke and alternatively sleeping in a Holiday Inn and a truck, due to his bank accounts being mysteriously emptied by criminals or frozen by the IRS (he can’t seem to decide). Adding to the drama, Stapp reportedly sent his wife a series of bizarre texts, warning of such things as the imminent biological weapon delivery heading for Florida and the CIA’s likely involvement in Alcoholics Anonymous. While it seems unlikely that the $1.5 million advance paid to him by his record label last year suddenly evaporated, many veteran #StappWatchers assert that a relapse either into heavy drug use or good old-fashioned psychosis has almost certainly taken place. Either way, Stapp is making a convincing argument that his role as a source of barely-believable tragicomedy is far from expired.
Farther north, the SMU Mustang football team finally ended their thirteen-game losing streak with a fourth-quarter win over the UCONN Huskies. I switched over to the game after growing bored of watching TCU’s routing of Iowa State, and was well-rewarded by the close competition that comes when two poorly-disciplined teams with only two wins between them face off. But the most interesting part of the game was listening to Dave Ryan (play-by-play) and Corey Chavous (color) provide commentary. The duo seemed to share absolutely no professional rapport, and there was only one instance in the second half where I can recall them building on each other’s comments rather than simply trading airtime as they delivered their own monologues. If their styles are any reflection of their personalities, it isn’t hard to see why: Chavous was actually one of the most interesting commentators I’ve ever heard on a national broadcast, managing to explain in the short inter-play period exactly why, for example, a defensive back wasn’t responsible for a big run that went past him, where most announcers would have simply commented on the quality of the block that sent him to the ground. Ryan, meanwhile, seemed most comfortable with phrases like “It’s second-and-ten” and with reading off the stats that the production crew put on the screen.
To be fair, Chavous was a Pro Bowl safety with an eleven-year NFL career, while Ryan, as far as my research could inform me, didn’t even play college ball, so he may have been a little outmatched when it came to breaking down game footage. But listening to them, I was irked by the suspicion that Ryan stood the greater chance of ever becoming a big league football announcer. The same vibrancy that made Chavous so interesting to listen to could very well be unpalatable to a network looking for a prime time commentator: he lacks the standardized “TV accent” that is shared by just about every major network personality, and his commentary requires at least some mental investment from listeners; learning can’t be a completely passive process.
Ryan, on the other hand, is well-versed in the meaningless babble meant to fill airtime and remain offensive to no one, and it is hard to imagine him having any compunction about cutting short an explanation about the mechanics of a zone blitz in order to remind viewers of the wisdom of heading down to their local Ford dealership to check out the all new F-150. In short, he is an obedient part of the broadcasting system, and if he could just find a way to not be so devastatingly bland he would stand a fair chance of rising up the ranks. Until he does, though, he is well served by his current gigs covering PBA bowling tournaments and Major League Lacrosse games.
hooting around 