In which we build you up, buttercup

Music:

I was born into AM radio. The first time I heard Elvis sing “Hound Dog” was on the radio in 1956, driving in our new turquoise Chevy BelAir. Cars all had radios, and they were all AM radios. That’s all there was. The hits they played on the radio were available for home play on 45s. Then in the mid-60s or so, FM radio came along, with the mandated need to play something other than what the AM stations were playing. Album-oriented rock was born, the kind of music available for home play on 33s. Cars started coming with FM radios, too, but in the late 60s, which is ground zero for a lot of what has become known as classic rock, it was still usually AM on the car radio and FM on the home radio. 

This meant there was a dichotomy in the listening of the average baby boomer. Maybe as often as not you listened to AM and FM in equal measure when it came to the radio, depending on where you were listening. There were certainly still plenty of good singles, but you probably spent your money on albums. Car radios had buttons with preset stations, and you would bounce around from station to station to find a good song amongst: 1) the ads, and 2) the tripe. I have always wondered who, in 1967, made the single of Frank and Nancy’s “Something Stupid” a number one seller. I mean, who bought that single 45 rpm recording? No one I knew. (I’ve read somewhere that it was Frank’s biggest hit. Oy!) Anyhow, a million years later, the boomers have two separate tracks in their brain. One is the AM music they listened to, and the other is the AOR music they listened to. There is occasional overlap—e.g., the Stones and the Beatles—but mostly they’re separate, and they sound different. I don’t think of “Strangers in the Night” as a Sinatra song, as loosely connected to my collection of his great 50s albums. I think of it as an AM radio song that I couldn’t press the button fast enough to hear something—anything—else. Listening to the Turtles recently started me thinking about this: they were an AM band in spades. That doesn’t mean I don’t love some of their songs, not because of nostalgia but because I think they’re really good songs. It just means that I would hear them only on the AM radio. I never once bought one of their albums. I don’t know anyone who did.

It’s hard explaining the AM/AOR dichotomy to people born after the boomers. If you came to music consciousness in the disco era, if one of your primary music sources was MTV, or if you were plugged into rap culture… None of that seems to play across the same canvas. Perhaps “Build Me Up Buttercup” encapsulates the problem perfectly. I have a younger friend who thinks it’s a great song. More to the point, he thinks that I think it’s a great song. Its “greatness” may be arguable—feh!—but its position as an AM and not an AOR song is unquestionable. And, I guess, one man’s cornball is another man’s greatest hit. (I do rather like Baby Now That I’ve Found You” by the way, so I'm not totally anti-Foundations. What can I say?)

I do have an oldies playlist. If I had to define it, I would say it’s songs I originally heard primarily on the radio. AM radio. Way back when. It explains itself through listening better than I can explain it on paper.

In which we flip for sides

Debate: Catholic Charlie threw at me yesterday that I am giving opening remarks to the judges this coming weekend. Oh joy. Oh rapture. Given that these are mostly parents of Middle School kids, with online debate experience I can only imagine, the more I think about it the more I drip with excitement. I mean, experienced people in the High School arena who know theoretically what they are doing stumble about at virtual tournaments, and I have no idea if these MS judges know, even theoretically, what virtual is all about. To forestall the worst tech problems, I will be advising them to test their setups in advance at the NSDA site. The last thing I want to do Friday is try to get round one started with a whole army of MS parents who can’t link their devices to tabroom breathing down my neck. Holy Theophilus Moly!

One interesting point. Lately at our local events we’ve set up PF, for which we rule CFL-style that there is no flip, to have Pro going first in rounds one and two, and Con going first in rounds three and four. The stated purpose of these events is educational. In a normal—if you want to call it that—PF event, a team could flip Pro and go first in every round. We’ve seen it happen. And it means that they get experience doing exactly one thing all tournament. Out approach forces the issue of putting students through their paces on both sides of the resolution, and at both positions at the starting gate. We feel this better educates them, even so far as training them for events where the flip can put them anywhere. With our training, they’ve already been everywhere, and they have experience handling it. 

So I suggested this for the MS CFL, not giving it much thought, simply out of habit. Word came down from on high (the Pope is very involved in NCFL business) just to have no flip and pro always going first. I can’t say I have strong arguments either way for this tournament, since this is really a competitive-first event that is only educational by inference. But it does raise the age-old (well, couple of decades old) question of how we do PF. I’m not quite sure, but I think the endless flip came about in the origin story as an attempt to simply differentiate PF from the other debates, and to keep it, for lack of a better word, honest. NSDA adapted it straight away. The CFL, on the other hand, didn’t think it was a great idea, and they didn’t adapt it (except, curiously, for the fifth round of Nationals, but only for side and not position). I gather that there are regular plaintive cries across the land at NSDA meetings to drop it, with regular plaintive cries back of Treason! and Kill the Beast!!! I do personally prefer the idea that people could debate not merely both sides of a resolution but both in the first and second position, given equal time frames for all the speeches. Why not? In the end, what we get at least around here is everyone doing it almost every which way. National $ircuit events tend to go NSDA rules, believing that the watchful eye of the TOC Advisory committee is ready to pounce if they vary from the orthodoxy even slightly. And regional and local events as often as not go CFL style thinking that it is more educational, which it probably is, but where is the point where a competition realistically prioritizes competition over education? Touchy stuff. For anyone in an academic situation to claim that what they are doing is educational and, by default, what you are doing is NOT educational, is pretty dangerous territory, but that is what people do who claim that they are doing it right and you are doing it wrong. Mostly we're just doing it differently, with equally good intentions. Is there a best way? Ten years from now, if we're only doing it one way, that question will have answered itself. Ditto if we're not doing it only one way. If the end result remains, in everyone's mind, that students are being educated beyond the classroom, that is all that really matters. 

In which we get younger than springtime

Jurgen Habermas died recently. Not exactly a mainstream celebrity, he was definitely a debate celebrity. Once upon a time high schoolers in debate may have learned about the Enlightenment for ethical purposes, with a side order of Empiricism, and that would suffice. Admirably, I would add. But around the turn of the milliennium people who were alive when the horseless carriage was first seen coming down the road started getting into the conversation. I knew a couple of students who liked to go stare at Sandel’s and Rawls’s faculty mailboxes during the Harvard tournament. Once you threw in critical analysis, all bets were off and kids were learning things so “radical” that nowadays the government is trying to cut off their teachers at the knees. 

It is so nice to be a part of that, albeit no longer active at the front lines. If that’s not what it’s all about, then I don’t know what is.

Meanwhile, for reasons of simply wanting to help Catholic Charlie out if possible, I volunteered to work with him at an NCFL middle school tournament. I didn’t even know they had a middle school tournament, and it turns out that this is the introductory event. I like the idea of MS debate because basic education these days doesn’t strike me as going out there and expanding minds. These MS years are serious ones of growth and maturing; giving MSers some interesting ideas to chew on sets them up to learn how to learn, which is what our extracurricular activity is all about (and what the curricular activities should be all about). 

Nevertheless, I do worry about a couple of things. First of all, I don’t like a tournament that mixes HS and MS kids. Being of MS age is hard enough; being of MS age in a cafeteria full of HSers borders on too much. It is one thing to perform maturely in front of a judge in a strictly defined situation, and another thing altogether to be surrounded by HS juniors and seniors in that particular universe of theirs. There’s time enough for that in a couple of years. The other thing I worry about it hyper-competitive parents. Debate is a pathway to great thinking. Competition is a means to that end. When competition becomes the end, things are off. Winning is great, but if you’re only doing this to get into the right program/prep school/college, you’re missing the point. And you probably won’t get into the right program/prep school/college. As I always pointed out to parents who insisted that their kids go to the Harvard tournament, going to the Harvard tournament was in no way, shape, or form connected to going to Harvard. Winning the  Harvard tournament was in no way, shape, or form connected to going to Harvard. What I’m saying is that the introduction of MS kids to good competition must always remember that they are MS students first. They’re like one noodle over the line from just being little kids (and if you actually see them, some of these little folks have yet to even get their noodle). 

I’ll be curious to see how my thoughts play out at the tournament next weekend. 

In which we page through some music, some meatballs, and some TV shows

Music (and/or books): A while ago I read Questlove’s Music is History (well, all right, I listened to him narrate it), and found it fascinating. At the time, I put it into the back of my mind to listen to all that music. This being 2026, Spotify had the playlist just waiting for me, and lately I’ve been listening to it while working in the kitchen. Food prep, one of my favorite activities, always seems to go better with music, and the "Music is History" playlist seems to have been invented to bop along while you chop. Most of the music is not what I normally listen to, so it enriches the kitchen experience in many, many ways. The book, and the playlist, are highly recommended. 

Food: Speaking of which, some very nice meatballs: https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/770849339-spinach-meatballs-with-pasta?smid=share-url I am of the school of spinach-enhancement: much of what I do in the kitchen comes out better if I throw some spinach into it. First of all, you get a nice extra vegetable, but on top of that you get a nice extra flavor. And when you sneak it into a meatball, even your spinach-averse friends (of which I have too many) will gobble it right down. 

Meanwhile, I have found that I have been relying way too much on the Times app, and lately have been going back to all my cookbooks, of which I have a very nice collection. For the record: if the Times covers a recipe you have in a book, e.g., Pierre Franey’s moussaka, use the book. The Times modifies things a lot, and in my experience the original is always better.

Television: Catching up a bit:

• “All Creatures Great and Small” is perfect PBS comfort viewing. And as you want with a farm vet story, plenty of arms up inside large animals. It’s a Masterpiece Theatre presentation, and I can’t imagine anything better fitting into relaxing Sunday night entertainment. 
• There’s a bunch of CNN docuseries on HBO/Max, the latest of which I watched being about the history of Las Vegas. There’s a certain corniness and obviousness to these shows, but they’re interesting enough that one sticks with them. I mean, when was the last time you saw Wayne Newton?
• Justin Willman is a magician with a bunch of shows on Netflix. I’ve watched them all, including the most recent one. I’ve also seen him live at one of our local theaters. He’s as personable as can be, and original. I recommend all of his stuff. 
• “The Punisher” is one of the Netflix series of Marvel stories now airing on Disney+. I think these series get a bad rap. Granted some seasons are better than others, but I’ve found them at worst watchable and at best interesting and unique stuff. Considering that Disney has resurrected Daredevil (a second season starts soon), it’s not bad to go back into the archives. I thought the Punisher first season that I just finished was pretty good. The series in order lists Jessica Jones season 2 next, but I’ve already watched that, so next up will be Luke Cage’s second season. Mike Colter, the Luke Cage actor, has been a favorite of mine since I first met him as an elegant mobster back on “The Good Wife.” I guess what I’m saying is that if you’ve been going by the so-so critical response to these shows and avoiding them, you might want to rethink that.  

In which we don't stay up late

TV: I was planning on staying up late to watch the Oscars, and it was over around 10:30. I wasn’t even yawning yet. Amazing! Of course, it did start at 7:00 EST, and my recollection is that it used to start at 8:00, so that may account for some of it. And they didn’t have full performances of all the nominated songs, a good time-saving choice since as often as not it’s the first time and the last time you’ll ever hear them and it’s too late to vote, even if you wanted to. And I always enjoy Conan, which helped cover up for what seemed an unbroken series of failed bits from the presenters. And I have planned on watching all the nominated movies. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon…

Music (queue division): 

• Neil Sedaka, “The Hungry Years” I was already going through Sedaka’s work before he up and died on me. There’s something inherently chipper in his songs, and his voice, and he really was a pop god before the Beatles came along. All the songs on this album sound like perfect early sixties pop, and there’s only one problem: He recorded it in 1975. As you listen to it you remark to yourself that there is absolutely song-writing craftsmanship going on, but it’s a dated craftsmanship. On the other hand, the album contains the slow version of “Breaking Up is Hard to Do,” one the the greats no matter what the decade. 
• The Turtles’s “Battle of the Bands” is a mediocre album with a couple of gems. It raises the question of FM vs AM, which I’ll get into some other time. 
• Lovin’ Spoonful, “Everything Playing,” has a couple of good songs that were late hits for them, but that’s about it. I probably had this in the queue after Andrew Hickey described how the Turtles wanted to be a good time music band like the Spoonful. Whatever.
• “McCartney III” — I hate to say it, but Sir Paul has lost his voice. Hell, he was born in 1942, so to say that he sings like an old man is to belabor the obvious. The problem is, he writes songs for his young voice. So it goes.
• The Kinks, “Face to Face” is prime stuff from Davies and company. It is educational to compare Davies’s “Dandy” vs Herman’s Hermits’ cover version. It’s a literal cover, exact down to the briefest semiquaver, and it’s cute. The Kinks’s version is not cute. And I admit, I like them both. But if I were heading to a desert album, I think I’d be leaving my extensive Hermits collection back on the mainland. 

In which we cheat at debate, and at Dickens

Debate: I cannot for the life of me understand cheating in debate. We went through a bad spell of it not too long ago, where it seemed as if every tournament had an incident where one team or another was found to be communicating with folks outside of the room, essentially having remote teammates research answers to the opposing case and feeding those answers to the team that was debating. That we haven’t had much of this lately is, I would like to think, because it’s no longer a practice, but I suspect that the cheaters have just gotten better at it. If someone is eager to beat the system they will probably find a way to do it faster than system can detect them. So maybe it’s still going on, not rampant but insistent. Who can tell?

(There are plenty of other ways to cheat, of course. Intimidation seems to be popular with certain schools, and there are multiple ways of doing this. Hell, multiple ways is the name of the game. Unfortunately.)

I can’t imagine why debaters would cheat. If it works it’s not a valid win. There’s no pride in “beating” a tough opponent because you didn’t actually beat them, and you know it. The only pride you can take in it is that you’ve successfully used the cheating tools (whatever they are). An ill-gotten trophy would be a constant reminder of your unworthiness to possess it. Qualifying for another tournament would not be because of a win but because of a scam; when you get to that other tournament, the only way you can succeed is to continue scamming. The scammer’s ego must suffer through all of this. Think of the scene in “Singin’ in the Rain” where they raise the curtain to show Debbie Reynolds voicing the leading lady. If it ain’t you, it ain’t you.

But I think there’s a deeper reason that cheating seems especially wrong in our activity. I mean, what are we debating? One way or another, we’re debating right and wrong, fair and unfair, just and unjust. We’re debating morality and ethics. How does this sit at all comfortably with debating immorally and unethically?

Is a puzzlement, as the King of Siam would put it.

Reading, paper division: When I’m between books I read series mysteries. The most recent was Aaron Elkins’s Curses! This is part of the Gideon Oliver series, and they’re perfectly enjoyable, but they don’t necessarily stick in the brain. Oliver is referred to as the bone detective in the series, which revolves around archaeological digs and the like. If I’m not using Elkins as a palate-cleanser, then it’s probably Ngaio Marsh. After all, you can’t just read Dostoevsky over and over. Or, well, you shouldn’t. Trust me on this. 

Reading, audio/paper division: Bleak House is at the top of my list of favorite Dickens novels. So when Stephen Fry, my favorite audiobook narrator, called Miriam Margolyes’s audiobook of BH one of the best, I had no choice but to acquire it. And I began to listen, and yes, it is one of the best. The down side is that it’s about skatey-eight thousand hours long. After listening for a couple of enjoyable weeks, I switched over to the paperback version that was in my home library so that I could get through it before the Apocalypse. I’ve only done this once before, listening to I, Claudius back when it was Books-on-Tape. It was so good that even though I was enjoying listening, I wanted to devour it at my own speed. There are two volumes, and I’d probably still be listening to it if I hadn’t switched off. Most audiobooks are in the 8-10 hour range, meaning that you can get through them in about two weeks, no problem. Longer than that, it becomes problematic. Consider this a warning if you’re thinking of trying audiobooks anytime soon. 

Reading, audio division: Putting down Dickens, we moved to the next title in the Audible queue. The God Engines is a novella by John Scalzi where the spaceships are powered by, well, gods. For Scalzi fans it can be summed up by simply pointing out that it is not narrated by Wil Wheaton, nor should it be. It reminded me that not all Scalzi books are an absolute hoot, and that he has a serious SF side. My favorite of his to recommend is the Interdependency trilogy, if the person I’m recommending it to seems in it for the long haul. Otherwise, of course, Redshirts. 

In which we spin a few

A couple of thoughts on music. 

Not long ago I had to explain to a younger friend the concept of a Side Two Album. Back in the day when there was vinyl, period, albums had two sides. While 45s also had two sides, these were clearly an A side and a B side, a concept which has slipped into the general language to a small degree. But an album, once we got past the era of an artist’s hit plus filler, was meant to be a whole thing. For example, when the Stones first started recording, they just dumped every song they knew onto tape and a bunch of albums resulted. But by the time they got to, say, “Exile on Main Street,” the songs were cut specifically for that album. That was the way recording changed over time (although it isn’t as though rockers invented the idea: cf. Sinatra’s Capital albums in the 50s). To the point at hand, when you bought a record, you played side one, and then you turned it over and you played side two. As you played a record multiple times, there were some where you pretty much only played one side, or at least heavily tended toward one side. “Abbey Road” is probably the best example of this, a Side Two album if there ever was one. But there were plenty of others. And, of course, this is now meaningless. The digitization of music has all but eliminated the concept of an album, or at least the concept of a concept album. I’m not immune to this: I listen probably half the time to single takes rather than albums (although by the same token, I do listen half the time to albums over single cuts). Life goes on. Before long-playing records, everything was singles. Hell, Beethhoven’s Ninth, recorded, was a bunch of 78 rpm singles. Then again, when Luddy wrote it, it was meant to be heard all at once (although, TBH, in a theoretical set of 4 singles AKA movements). 

There’s no point to my bringing this up other than it’s one of those things I just happened to think of recently. 

My other thought is actually reportage. I have a monthly poker game, and during the game, there is background music. If the background music is random cuts from the past, the game stops with every new cut as people first try to identify it, and then report on what they were doing when they first heard it 60 years ago, and who replaced the second drummer. Five Card Draw becomes Name That Tune. However, when you put on a full album, once people identify it (which is usually pretty easy for my generation when you play something from 60 years ago) then you can get on with dealing the cards and trying to figure out whose bet it is. Come to thing of it, in my geriatric game, figuring out whose bet it is may be our number one business. I have tried to suggest over the years simple improvements to the game like, say, betting in turn, but have been regularly voted down as being too tight-assed. When every hand begins with the phrase “Whose deal is it?” and a game that used to last until about 11:00 now starts breaking up at 7:30 to keep in line with half the players’ bedtimes, you know you’ve ventured into a game of retirees. So, a warning: if you actually want to play poker, steer as far away from my game as humanly possible. 

Music (audit division): An update on what’s been playing in the audit queue in the mornings.

• Larry Williams — Never heard of him, but he wrote (and performed originally) “Slow Down” and “Dizzy Miss Lizzy,” so obviously John Lennon was a fan. “Here’s Larry Williams” is an extremely enjoyable album, containing “Bony Moronie”, which was his big hit that I knew. Thrown immediately back into the rotation: I want to hear this one more than once. 
• Linda Ronstadt, Stone Poneys and Friends, Vol III — (Who knows why that E is in Poneys.) This is apparently their first album; if there’s a I and II I couldn’t find it. It starts out very folky, then you see glimmers of a rocking Ronstadt in some of the later tracks. I was never a big fan of Ronstadt, although I liked some of the hits and she unquestionably has a spectacular voice. The “Trio” album has to be a GOAT for a lot of people. (And while doing the research for this I discovered that there was a Trio II, which went straight into the queue.) Listening to this also moved me to listen to "Pirates of Penzance," but D’Oyly Carte, not Ronstadt’s version. I definitely went through a Savoyard period back in the day, and even saw John Reed do Pinafore on Broadway! (You will either find this devilishly enviable or totally meaningless.) I spent most of the ensuing week muttering under my breath that when a felon’s not engaged in his employment…
• The Hollies, “Write On” — More of the Hollie-ish same. I only listen to their albums to catch one of their occasional enjoyable rockers. Surprisingly enough, the Hollies ranked close to the top of the artists I listened to in my 2025 wrap-up. Go figure. It’s probably based on the fact that I have audited a lot of their work, and they have, themselves, a lot of work. 1962-present, according to Wikipedia. 64 years is way above the average rock band lifespan.
• Warren Zevon, Wanted Dead or Alive — Early Zevon. Not quite there yet, but in hindsight you can see it coming.
• “All Things Must Pass” with all the extras — I mean, who doesn’t like this album? It’s certainly one of my GOATs. But……..did I need 1001 extras? Having just listened to the original album at my most recent poker game (see above) without extras, I wasn’t ready to hear it again a couple of days later with them. Maybe some day, when I’m in the retirement home and if I have a decent set of headphones and I haven’t gone totally deaf…
• “John Wesley Harding” — Nobody knew what to expect when this album came out. How would Dylan reinvent himself, or for that matter, would he reinvent himself? I bought it, played it a few times, went on to other things. In my generation there are Dylanites and non-Dylanites. We latter don’t hate him, we just don’t revere him. It was nice to hear a few of these songs again, though.
• The Bonzo Dog Band — Their name comes up a lot in discussions of 60s music. I was expecting something rock-oriented, but what I got was British Music Hall. I do like their rendition of “Alley Oop” though. 
• Dillard and Clark — A pot pourri of their country music, and another venture into the work of an ex-Byrd. Listenable.