Previously: The Story 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011, 2010, 2009, 2008. Podcast 12.4A, 12.4B, 12.4C.

Sex Bob-omb/Beck, Threshold

A dozen years ago, some Canadians had a problem. They needed a song by a ragged three-piece garage band that could convincingly morph into a giant electric gorilla and defeat two EDM dragons. This is not a metaphor or exaggeration.

Having backed themselves into a corner, the folks putting together Scott Pilgrim vs The World did the only sensible thing left: they called Beck. Beck huddled up with one other dude and took a weekend:

On Friday night, Wright gave Beck a list of the scenes where his songs would be used and a short brief on the band. On Sunday evening, Beck sent them 24 songs on a CD. … “I couldn’t believe it. I vividly remember driving around with Nigel listening to the CD real loud,” says Wright. “It was Nigel’s idea to use the songs as is. He said, ‘If you want it to be authentic, like this band has been rehearsing it in their house, why would you make it more slick?"

They left various errors in,—correction, they forced the actors to learn the errors—turned the fuzz to maximum, and rolled with it. And it works.

You could shave that song and knit an expensive sweater from it. This is an OH LAWD HE COMIN song. Insofar as anything can be believable in context it is. It is the moment when you're at a show and one of the openers is an immediate YES. Once you look it up on Youtube it is extremely difficult not to play it over and over again. And then you read the comments? Why did I do that?

The Beck story is from a delightful retrospective on how the music in Scott Pilgrim, which stands up a lot better than the video game overlay, came to be. Every part of the music in this movie crushes it. Also a large part of it makes no sense, including the song I'm talking about. Look!

My body is stupid, stereo putrid
Spilling out music into raw sewage
Reaching my threshold
Staring at the truth 'till I'm blind

That don't make no sense at all. And yet.

[After THE JUMP: You see where I'm going with this.]

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This is going to be a dumb season.

Even at its most regimented and precise college football is our dumbest sport, ruled by error, comedy, and farce. Michigan already plays Maryland when they're down to an eighth grader and a can of paint that looks tough at quarterback.

come back little buddy, if you let me sack you I will put on Octonauts [Paul Sherman]

The outcome of the average Michigan-Penn State game can be determined in under five minutes. Indiana is an avant-garde art project that explores the nature of hope and the pain that arises from it. Nebraska spent the offseason complaining there was no season and then when things resumed they were furious that some teams already on their schedule were still on it. Iowa scored 55 points on Ohio State like three years ago.

Rutgers.

Now add the [gestures wildly and far too fucking expansively] … everything and you've got a recipe for college football except drunk. Drunker? Doesn't matter. People of earth, we are looking at a season that got cancelled and then uncancelled, with teams dropping in and out of practice as they attempt to box with coronavirus. The entire season is deep in the heart of sleet blizzard territory. At some point someone's going to screw up (not Ohio State) , get everyone infected (except Justin Fields), and the can of paint is going to be the starting left tackle (against Ohio State).

There are a few different ways to mine enjoyment from such an undertaking. I'm planning on a combination of all of them, adjusting levels as events dictate. I have included Youtube comments from Scott Pilgrim vs the World songs as appropriate. They are:

IRONIC NIHILISM. Life is pointless, so is sports, so let's dive right into this. Each three-and-out is a virtuoso symphony of black comedy. My soul has already flown from this plane, I am an empty husk that contains nothing but bitter chuckles. Heh.

NOSTALGIA FOR THE BEFORE TIMES. Even though this fight song is pre-recorded electronic disco, it reminds me of spending time with other people without worrying about the effects. That was nice. Eating cheesy potatoes underneath a canopy tent. The ritual of leaving at the precise time. Forgetting to charge your phone for the first game every year. I liked not having to think about the imminent end of democrac—THIS SECTION HAS BEEN TERMINATED FOR BEING TOO REAL

IRRATIONAL OPTIMISM ABOUT THE FUTURE. You see, that Joe Milton touchdown is the vaccine, man*.

BEATING MICHIGAN STATE'S ASS. Wot it says on the tin.

The world no longer makes much sense. That's true. It's not great, you know, overall. I haven't been watching the sports much for a variety of reasons. But I think I'm ready to turn on a Northwestern game. They will score no points and win in overtime. I'm ready to watch someone (not Michigan) beat Ohio State by a zillion points.

I'm ready for something to make no goddamn sense whatsoever because that's the way it's supposed to be. I'm ready for my stupid body to look at objectively unimportant things and have deep feelings about them, pending certain polling averages remaining approximately constant.

It's not going to be a normal thing. It will, at best, be an attempt at a normal thing. For college football that's something that is very dumb and very fun. I'm going to be furious when Michigan doesn't take advantage of some cornerbacks playing in the parking lot. Maybe there will be some evidence that Josh Gattis is maturing into his role as Please Be Beck Dammit. Perhaps among the wreckage we will find something fuzzy to nurture.

*[This is a bit of a cheat since it's from the "Anthems For A Seventeen Year Old Girl" rip that's been up since 2013 but the Youtube comments section of this song is the last pure spot on the internet and I couldn't think of anything more irrationally optimistic than "this is a good youtube comments section."  If you ruin it I will find you. ]