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THE
FOOTBALL ALBUMS Read on for song-by-song explanations originally posted on the Sonic Enemy website to accompany the release of The Football Albums.
SAINTS This was the second song I wrote for the project, and the one that catapulted The Football Albums from a bad idea about to go the way of most bad ideas to a bad idea destined for horrifyingly full realization. We tried working it up as a band but it never quite gelled, making this a good opportunity to open an album with an acoustic song, something I’ve wanted to do for years. I’ve always liked the Saints even though there hasn’t been much to like about them since Tom Dempsey—the logo is classy without being overly fey or contrived, and the colors are smart. Even though domes are the work of Satan, something about the lighting down there in New Orleans makes the helmets look gorgeous. Too bad they’re gonna ruin Ricky Williams’ career by playing him when he’s hurt… BACK TO TOP RAMS I remember the Rams. I remember reading as a little kid that Pat Haden had been a “Rhodes Scholar,” and even though I basically had no idea what that meant, I knew that it was something that I, already brainy and uncool at age 7, could look upon with pride. I remember, inexplicably, a game at the Coliseum against the St Louis Cardinals which sold out at the last minute, meaning the customary TV blackout was lifted! I remember Super Bowl XIV, the Rams and the Steelers at the Rose Bowl, and there being hope for the Rams until quite late in the game, and the light in the sky outside looking exactly like the light in the sky on television. I remember going to a Monday night game in Anaheim with a friend from school in his dad’s new ’82 Corvette, and thinking this sucks and not being disappointed when we left late in the third quarter. A team that will suck until the owner dies or can be persuaded to sell it. Too bad: still one of the best uniforms in the game. BACK TO TOP FALCONS Written during the NFC divisional playoff game between the Falcons and 49ers last year. God I hate the Tomahawk Chop. Don’t know why it is that I can hate the Braves and their fans so much yet have no problem at all rooting for the Falcons. Must be that underdog thing. I love it when anybody can create that look of panic—that “This can’t be happening!” look— in Steve Young’s eyes. Priceless. BACK TO TOP PANTHERS One night I got so hammered watching 90210 over at our friends’ house that I had to spend half the night in the tub, because if I lay all the way down in bed it felt like I was going to be flung from the face of the earth. Plus my wife was pissed. I bet this is what it’s like to be Kerry Collins, I thought. BACK TO TOP 49ERS Lame teams deserve lame songs. (See also: Broncos.) BACK TO TOP BEARS The basic idea here being that the Bears have had a long-standing arrangement with the devil, and their current coach (Dave Wannstedt at the time this was written, although the song works equally well for Dick Jauron), having just been made aware of this, is now flush with the possibilities before him. BACK TO TOP BUCCANEERS As much a tribute to our friends from Shadowland/Further/Beachwood Sparks/The Tyde/et al as it is to the team from Tampa. Darren and Brent grew up in St. Pete, had season tix the first few years, and claim to have been there when the Buccaneers notched their first victory after nearly two full seasons of humiliation (even though if you look it up, you’ll discover their first victory came in New Orleans—but why let the truth get in the way of a good story? And they did get their second win the next week at home…). Four winning seasons since 1976, but the brass ring is always within reach, right guys? BACK TO TOP LIONS Not much to this one, although Mr Sanders’ recent “retirement” casts a somewhat different light on the perfunctory lyrics. An exercise in seeing just how little you can do and still come out with a reasonably enjoyable song. BACK TO TOP PACKERS I love the Packers and initially the song for them was to be laughably laudatory: “Packers: mighty and glorious! Seldom but victorious!” Then Reggie’s big fucking mouth, along with his ignorant a-hole homophobia and dipshit notions of racial harmony—“The Orientals, why, they can turn a TV into a watch!”—got the best of him. Ultimately though, it’s Reggie’s almost unbelievably childish understanding of his relationship to his maker that really makes him compelling: the idea of God rewarding Reggie’s devotion with Packer victories is just too wonderful to resist. I myself consider it a victory for agnosticism each week that my non-prayers for White’s absence from the public stage (not to mention the Packers’ line-up) continue to be honored. BACK TO TOP VIKINGS Imagine Randy Moss in his first week at camp, writing letters home before turning in early, playing his heart out during the day and sleeping like a babe all night, all earnestness, humility and wholesome courage. Randy Moss as directed by Frank Capra. Randy Moss drinking tall, cold glasses of milk. Why is this cynical? BACK TO TOP EAGLES A dividing line for our friends, the point beyond which many of them just had to shake their heads sadly and say sorry, guys—can’t go there with you. That’s okay. Philly’s a tough town. You’re probably better off staying home. The recording, by the way, was just us warming up while Steve was getting levels, hence the cut-off intro; Steve insisted on finishing and mixing it though, and when he was done we saw no reason to do it again. BACK TO TOP COWBOYS Okay, I’ll admit it: this song would have been written if we’d been working on a record about football or not. My tenuous explanation for its inclusion is that it’s Troy Aikman imploring Michael Irvin to get his shit together, because, after all, when you look at things on a cosmological scale, it’s completely miraculous that any two people could have the opportunity to do anything together, let alone something at which they both excel and do better together than apart. BACK TO TOP REDSKINS I would hardly characterize myself as being politically correct, a bleeding heart liberal, or a perpetual whiner—all things I have been accused of in the Redskins newsgroup—but Jesus Christ: Redskins? BACK TO TOP CARDINALS This here would be the last song written for the Football Albums, except that it was never actually written: we improvised it to tape with the only guideline being drummer Kevin’s insistence that I somehow incorporate the phrase “little birdies.” My cousin Jack sent along a tape of him reciting a poem he’d written in honor of the Cardinals subsequent to his divorce and move to Phoenix, which we mixed in to fill things out. Thanks, Jack! BACK TO TOP GIANTS It’s a fantasy too tempting to resist indulging: 70,000 drunk, icicle-throwing Giants fans chanting along with us. So perfect. BACK TO TOP SPECIAL
NFC BONUS SONG
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