Word: basses
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Fishing in rural lakes is usually a contemplative pastime, but the black-bass tournament on Alabama's Lake Guntersville earlier this month seemed more like the Indy 500. Some 320 anglers set out in their boats at 5 a.m., battling the morning chill and 3-ft. waves in pursuit of fish and fortunes. The competitors were equipped with the latest in sonar and trolling motors, the better to pursue their wily prey. When the anglers returned to shore, crowds gasped in excitement as judges weighed the catch and flashed the results on a digital screen. The winner, Robert Byrd...
...contest is part of an even bigger bonanza for B.A.S.S. Inc., a Montgomery, Ala.-based company that stages the professional bass-fishing tour and dominates this arcane but fast-growing sport (estimated total U.S. bass anglers: 26 million). B.A.S.S. sets the tournament rules, controls lucrative - sponsorships, handles the marketing and covers the events in its own array of periodicals. The company promotes its contests with a weekly cable-TV show, The Bassmasters, and operates a thriving network of 2,000 amateur fishing clubs...
B.A.S.S. is the creation of Ray Scott, 56, a former insurance salesman who in 1967 sensed the weekend angler's craving for tips on outwitting the combative black bass, which are actually green. The biggest ones are referred to by aficionados as lunkers. Says Scott, a fishing pal of Bush's: "The bass is so unbelievably fickle that the world's best minds can't tell you where he'll show next. He's a phantom." Aided by that mystique, Scott organized the professional tours and arranged sponsorship deals in which manufacturers help pay expenses. The company's fortunes have...
...says, removing the spaces from in between songs does not a song cycle make. Take, for instance, the opener, "Tomorrow's World." It begins promisingly, with breathy vocals sitting side-saddle on a set of naked guitar arpeggios, driven by an obsessive pattern and punctuated by an incredibly satsifying bass drum. Particularly effective, too, are a series of abrupt changes in volume. But just when everything is going well, Jackson screws up the chorus, bigtime in that it destroys the mood of everything that precedes it. The entire listening experience is marred by the constant fear that the chorus...
...Evil Empire" is yet another song sunk by ridiculous lyrics. One might guess from the title that Jackson is going to take a swipe at Reagan-style reactionism, but the theme turns out to rather indistinguishable. The music, however--a sort of country two-step, replete with fretless bass--is catchy...