That Dog Doesn’t Bite: Super Bowl XXXIX

He said grass. And hell.McCartney. Half-time show.

That’s all that needs to be said. People immediately know what is being discussed. Which is, in some ways, disturbing. Why is it that there is a nigh-on universal recognition of a game being played by a bunch of people who are otherwise undifferentiated (outside of their speed, bulk, dexterity, or other functions) for most of the year? Why do we watch? The train-wreck phenomenon?

Much of the commentary about the half-time show is probably going to be centered on the fact that having Sir Paul play is the “safe” route. Although this is contextual. Back in the day, The Beatles would have as controversial as Janet’s bejeweled breast. That would have been during, say, Super Bowl I. Presumably, however, there are those who want to “protect” us who are parsing the lyrics of “Get Back,” which will bring the wrath of Whomever down on the head of McCartney, no doubt.

This whole walking on eggs is rather silly. It is getting pretty close to the sort of thing that was going on at places like the CIA and NSA during the Cold War, when analysts were carefully trying to suss the meaning out of newspaper photographs and articles printed in Pravda, spinning theories about what was really happening behind the scenes. Now there is a cadre of people who are performing similar analyses, trying to find sexual innuendo or immoral attributes in damn near anything—yikes!, I used the word “damn” when, like the people at Fox, I should have used the word “Darn,” instead, as they did when they changed the name of the Tom Arnold-hosted sports show. They report. We decide. Right.

Isn’t Fox the source of that TV show that was the bête noire of that Detroit area woman who was scandalized, “Married, With Children”? Doesn’t it seem that when the money is in being “edgy,” that’s what is delivered, and when a sense of faux morality is the order of the day, they’re delivering like a short-order cook who’s living on red eye and amphetamines? How long do you think that, say “The O.C.” is going to last with, er, dodgy story lines if the Red State mindset holds sway? Can you say “picosecond”?

Paul did his job. He did it well. And given the fact that The Beatles are becoming nothing more than DVD-embalmed memories, it is good to see one of them still doing what so many so admired.

Arguably, however, the half-time show is like the beast in “The Hound of the Baskervilles.” It’s what we didn’t hear (see) that’s the real case.

3 thoughts on “That Dog Doesn’t Bite: Super Bowl XXXIX”

  1. honestly, i was more appalled by the incessant mugging for the camera by backing band members (for mccartney, fogerty, and probably more but watching was too painful – i wouldn’t put it past that chick in the black eyed peas though) – backing band members, of course, being lower than session musicians in that their only real credential is being able to imitate what somebody else made up and recorded fairly well.

    rock and roll is about being cool.

    and apparently old.

    and apparently, in the case of the girl from the BEPs, having a butter face.

    being excited about being on tv is precluded by all 3 of these criteria.

  2. I for one was thrilled to see an actual musician performing actual music at the SuperBowl this year. Yeah, the fireworks were a bit over the top, but they WERE playing to a billion people. Otherwise the staging was clever and lent itself to the music.

    Enough with the Mickey Mouse Club prima donnas in skimpy outfits and their choreographed dance routines already.

    At least Macca and band appeared to actually be playing live (if not, it was really well covered up). Unlike, say, the guy in the gold lamé suit just prior to kick-off whose bass magically kept playing despite taking his hands off the instrument :-)

    Sir Paul, you rock.

  3. Well, I was watching at Kingpins on Prytania after Bacchus, but it looked to me that the singing and piano playing to one song began before he even sat down.

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