Word: grins
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...against all odds, on Odelay, Beck managed to pull from his grab bag of idiosyncracies something somehow coherent, edgy and adorable all at the same time. Maybe it was the lovable geeky cowboy thing, or all that talk of him capturing the zeitgeist. Truth be told, we always did grin at that line about him being a loser and he always had been something of a likable maverick. His first album, Mellow Gold, introduced his sound: blending rural rockabilly and urban jangle into a casual aesthetic of sloppy cool. Mixing old school rap styling with twangy roots rock sounds...
...every parent's hope. One that is nourished by that first toothless grin of recognition, by the infant gaze of almost uncanny alertness and then by the stunning acquisition of words, of ABCs and 1-2-3s. "My child is bright. My child will excel in school. My child will make me proud." Industries are built on such aspirations. There are black-and-white mobiles to stimulate the senses and tapes of Mozart for Your Mind. Later come investments in Reader Rabbit software, encyclopedias and lessons to train every facet of body, brain and soul. But a child...
...practice. Starr remains in the shadows, except in driveway cameos, often clutching a black trash bag and a Starbucks coffee cup. Coming out on to the White House driveway on the day after he had violated all norms of privacy, he jauntily gave his trademark wave with his patented grin, one that doesn't involve eye movement, carrying himself as if he were President and as if there were a crowd of well-wishers rather than a ravenous camera crew awaiting him, as if he were on some high horse instead of on some low road. "You cannot defile...
...just want to break onto the scene. The sounds are competent but basic, and, in a reassuring (unchallenging) sort of way, don't go where you have never been before. The guitars crash along like a sandy syrup, and the rhythms are just enough to give me a silly grin to accompany my mindless bouncing. At the end of the album, however, my endorphins know that this could be a pleasant, but will never be a long-lived, relationship...
...think you had a tough week last week--and who didn't, with the Dow off 482 points?--you might perk up after a chat with Stanley Druckenmiller. A six-footer with deep-set eyes and a grin that creeps sideways across his face like a stock ticker, he has been labeled the world's brightest currency trader, an Einstein of the pits. Druckenmiller's paycheck is signed by George Soros, for whom he oversees $22 billion. Uh, make that a little less. Last week Druckenmiller watched helplessly as the Russian debt market vaporized into fiscal neutrinos, taking the last...