With Xmas and New Year's eating and enjoyment on the calendar, I've decided to step it up in the gym before January 2, that treadmill-filling day that athletic clubs love so much.
I've ordered a few take-out lunches from my athletic club's food bar, such as the sandwich pictured to the right. Now I know that substituting fat-free dressing for mayo and baked tortilla chips do not make for health food per se, but I can't have rice cakes and miso soup everyday at the office. It's a velvet lash.
At the establishment I patronize, wide banks of monitors screens pump a stream of music videos for the aerobic machine crowd (I'm neither studly nor devoted enough to hang in the iron-clad gym rat room). The videos on the monitors queue up a swath of various pop culture sub-groups – most of which I normally ignore.
But on a recent evening I had forgotten my iPod or even headphones to jack into CNN or other. So I took a 60-minute elliptical ride around the athletic club videodrome. Here's what I saw and thought while burning calories past, present and future:
Start up
BB Mack “Back Here” – What is this, *NSYNC learns to play acoustic guitars? Ugh. Off to an inauspicious start.
Rob Thomas “Little Wonders” – Mainstreamer does his Coldplay take. Rob takes a lot of crap from the music press, but he seems like a normal guy and he's following his bliss. I'm not buying but I'm not aurally slayed, either.
Hilary Duff “Play With Fire” – Sure, Hilary, you are very dangerous! I'm reminded by a liberal arts education that in Ancient Rome the Vestal Virgins guarded a sacred fire. Oh Hilary, you are refreshing even in your edgy mode. May you always stay cute and non-skeezy.
.... still not off to an auspicious start, though.
Not looking good 12 minutes in
Jesse McCartney “Right Where You Want Me” – Who, what, huh?
Five for Fighting “The Riddle” – Wait, is that Danny Masterson singing? No, oh, no ... it's piano-inflected wuss-rock.
Alyson “Take a Good Look” – Hmmm, this video seems to involve magical, transforming hooker-style sunglasses. I'm not in the target demographic for this music.
Now we're cooking with gas
The Rapture “Get Myself Into It” – This is a damn good song, and roller skating and break dancing competitions are proper video staples. Things are looking up.
Foo Fighters, “Everlong” – Yes! This is one of the 10 best music videos, ever. Gondry, giant hands, Pat Smear, Grohl. There is so much right with this experience as I increase my cadence. Air guitar was played.
Kenny Wayne Sheppard “Alive” – Getting loud in the desert. I'm there now, Kenny.
Sudden, abrupt downturn
Prima J “Rockstar” – Ummm, I feel like I am aesthetically bonking.
Back up to an acceptable plateau
Linkin Park “Breaking the Habit” – When these guys first hit, I thought they sucked. But the new album is good on the radio. I'm not buying, but I appreciate the anime video while I sweat it out.
Gwen Stefani “Now That You Got It” – The former ska-punk girl has her some style, that's true. And a Marley boy is in the song, the video was filmed in Jamaica and Stefani sure looks happy ...
Nelly Furtado “Do It” – Good innocuous grooving with Nelly and her posse of girls. Workout done.
Bonus cool-down lap video
As I walked off the video/aerobic cavalcade, Vegas' own Killers' “Mr. Brightside” played in technicolors.
What I learned
Always bring an iPod, or at least earbuds, to the gym.
Calories burned
380.4
****
Yee-haw! The Clydesdale on The Strip
The past week has brought the NFR frenzy to Vegas. On Saturday I hit Cleopatra's Barge in Ceasars Palace to witness the eight second glory of a Clydesdale show – wait, bull rides are eight seconds.
Actually, The Clydesdale performed mammoth shows – 10 p.m. to 3 a.m. or so for four nights.
The scene was curious – the creaky gang-plank walkways-over-water of the Barge, a few working ladies scoping the scene in hopes of lassoing a wayward cowboy, normal rodeo crowds listening to the cow-punk Western dirge rock romantica of the Clydesdale.
A few line-dancers busted moves on the floor, but not for long sans hordes of mirror-image cadres kicking their boots in ordered ranks.
I asked a partying music club owner from Austin, Texas, if the Clydesdale would do well in his venue.
“Too fast,” he said.
As in the Clydesdale's spooky but energetic Western songs are not slow and dancey enough for the country music crowds.
Austin, I thought? One of America's great music cities? No room for the Clydesdale?
“What about the Old 97's?” I asked, seeking for alternative/indie corollaries to the Clydesdale to prove roots music sells a bit. [Yes. I know the Old 97's are/were from Dallas.]
Never heard of 'em.
Well, I think the Clydesdale is Vegas' best band, and should be signed. Hello Merge, others?
The band would fill the truly good clubs in Texas, L.A., NYC and beyond.
Ride on, Clydesdale. Line dancing is not cool.
Check out video scenes from the Clydesdale's Saturday show.