While I'm waiting for The Smoking Section to post my review of Eternia & MoSS' latest release, At Last, I figured I'd post it on here for everyone to peep. Enjoy and grab a copy of the album!
***
For every hip-hop luminary that masters the genre and provides hit after critical, popular hit, there are bottom-feeder rappers who could fill silos with their respective clichés. White, female, auto-tone—these are just a few of the labels that have been designated as career-killing scarlet letters that inevitably create more acrimony than ascension for the MCs who embody them. However, there are the rare exceptions that personify one—if not several—of these categories and rise well above the lowest rung of rap’s food chain. Silk-Anne Semiramis Dawn Craig Kaya, or more commonly known as Eternia, is white, female and Canadian—but she has also released one of the best and emotionally laced underground hip-hop albums of the year with her latest project, At Last.
The Ottawa-based lyricist teams with underground producer MoSS to craft 15 tracks of pure verbal warfare, allowing MoSS’ boom-bap scratching to play the perfect backdrop to Eternia’s often vitriolic bars. On tracks like the opener “Any Man,” Eternia rips off lines like, “when I see you walk on my spot, I swear I’ll burn you/see you try to rock, dude, I will hurt you/talk shit to E, believe me, I heard you/but you don’t matter no more, you don’t matter no more,” as if the album were simply a recorded series of her best battle-ready raps. Sticking with this theme throughout the first half of the record, Eternia uses an almost masculine bravado to go toe-to-toe with Joell Ortiz on “It’s Funny” and waxes poetic with female hip-hop royalty Rah Digga and Lady of Rage on “BBQ.”
However, it’s the intense subject matter packaged into the second half of the album that gives At Last its salience. Dealing with issues ranging from a dead-beat, abusive father to a dysfunctional family life to alcoholism, Eternia combines the lyrical boisterousness of the first half of the album with a relatable earnestness. On “The Half,” Eternia relays an Cain-and-Abel-like story of her half and actual brothers over MoSS’s chilly, haunted beat, saying, “they were on year apart, more or less a few months/one knew he was loved, the other not so much/that hurts more than any bullet from a gun.” And the deceiving title of “Mr. Bacardi” isn’t a joyous ode to the Puerto Rican rum’s legacy, but rather the MC’s struggle against its intoxicating and addictive nature. Personifying that 151, Eternia’s Stockholm Syndrome is obvious with, “I’m never tongue-tied when I see ya/I can walk a straight line every time I can meet ya… God I meant it when I said I love the way you feel and I need ya/that’s how you got me now I am lost in your features.”
But even with the heavy subject matter and verbal gymnastics, redundancy becomes a problem and the last three tracks (“Day In the Life,” “Catch Me” and “Goodbye”) all come off as superfluous copies of the album’s first half. With the raw, brash nature of both Eternia’s lyrics and MoSS’ production, a tighter and shorter album would’ve served the album well, keeping listeners alert, but not inundating them with déjà vu.
Regardless, At Last thrives where many in Eternia’s same spot have so often failed. Gripping and ostensibly lyrical, the MC never gets tongue-tied because she has something that the other failures do not—honesty.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
No Doubt You Braided Your Own Hair, So You're All Grown Up.
39 days.
39 days stands between me and Chicago's premier music festival, Lollapalooza.
In my eager anticipation I've been pouring over the numerous acts playing on the day that I'll be attending--Saturday, August 7--and contemplating what would be the absolute perfect set schedule. For almost 11 hours, I have unlimited access to over 30 different shows--a music journalist's wet dream and virginity-losing moment all rolled into one.
So far, here's what I'm thinking (however, this could be subject to change):
11:30-12:15: Mimicking Birds
-Assuming I'm coherent and at Grant Park by this point, I'll be catching this up-and-coming group out of Portland, Oregon. Much in the same surf-folk vein as Jack Johnson, Matt Costa and Timmy Curran, it'll be a chill-rock barrage of guitar and spacey effects to pop my music festival cherry.
Song to Sample: "Burning Stars"
12:15-1:00: Rebelution
-Might be sparking up for this show: Santa Barbara, California's, Rebelution combines dub, reggae and jazz elements for the perfect mid-day jam session. Also the perfect group to wet one's pallet for the Slightly Stoopid set later in the day.
Song to Sample: "Lazy Afternoon"
1:00-1:45: Rogue Wave
-Everyone's favorite non-Jack Johnson Brushfire Records act, Rogue wave is indie-pop at its finest.
Song to Sample: "Lake Michigan"
1:45-2:45: Blues Traveler
-My only 90s nostalgia trip for the weekend. And the best harmonica solos this side of the South.
Song to Sample: "Hook"
3:15-4:15: The XX
-I think a customer's iTunes review describes England's The XX best: "it's essentially make-out music for the cool kids; steely quiet soundscapes that redefine R&B for a generation that loves Aaliyah and post-everything from Timbaland as much as freshly pressed Hot Chip singles and Cure LPs."
Song to Sample: "Islands"
6:45-7:45: Slightly Stoopid
-The closest-sounding act you'll find to a Bradley Nowell-led Sublime.
Song to Sample: "Ocean"
8:30-10:00: Phoenix
-With Green Day being the other headliner of the night, attending Phoenix's set is a no-brainer: French-pop maestros create catchy, bubbly harmonies and badass soundtracks for Cadillac commercials.
Song to Sample: "1901"
God Is Love,
Rev Rub.
39 days stands between me and Chicago's premier music festival, Lollapalooza.
In my eager anticipation I've been pouring over the numerous acts playing on the day that I'll be attending--Saturday, August 7--and contemplating what would be the absolute perfect set schedule. For almost 11 hours, I have unlimited access to over 30 different shows--a music journalist's wet dream and virginity-losing moment all rolled into one.
So far, here's what I'm thinking (however, this could be subject to change):
11:30-12:15: Mimicking Birds
-Assuming I'm coherent and at Grant Park by this point, I'll be catching this up-and-coming group out of Portland, Oregon. Much in the same surf-folk vein as Jack Johnson, Matt Costa and Timmy Curran, it'll be a chill-rock barrage of guitar and spacey effects to pop my music festival cherry.
Song to Sample: "Burning Stars"
12:15-1:00: Rebelution
-Might be sparking up for this show: Santa Barbara, California's, Rebelution combines dub, reggae and jazz elements for the perfect mid-day jam session. Also the perfect group to wet one's pallet for the Slightly Stoopid set later in the day.
Song to Sample: "Lazy Afternoon"
1:00-1:45: Rogue Wave
-Everyone's favorite non-Jack Johnson Brushfire Records act, Rogue wave is indie-pop at its finest.
Song to Sample: "Lake Michigan"
1:45-2:45: Blues Traveler
-My only 90s nostalgia trip for the weekend. And the best harmonica solos this side of the South.
Song to Sample: "Hook"
3:15-4:15: The XX
-I think a customer's iTunes review describes England's The XX best: "it's essentially make-out music for the cool kids; steely quiet soundscapes that redefine R&B for a generation that loves Aaliyah and post-everything from Timbaland as much as freshly pressed Hot Chip singles and Cure LPs."
Song to Sample: "Islands"
6:45-7:45: Slightly Stoopid
-The closest-sounding act you'll find to a Bradley Nowell-led Sublime.
Song to Sample: "Ocean"
8:30-10:00: Phoenix
-With Green Day being the other headliner of the night, attending Phoenix's set is a no-brainer: French-pop maestros create catchy, bubbly harmonies and badass soundtracks for Cadillac commercials.
Song to Sample: "1901"
God Is Love,
Rev Rub.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Scott Raab, My Youngs.
For those who don't know, I'm trying to get on with the blog, The Smoking Section. As I tirelessly slave creating sample posts for the editor-in-chief to eventually tear apart, I figured I'd share a few of my "refined" posts who will probably never see the light of day on the actual website.
Lucky you.
With that being said, here's a blog post I wrote about an Esquire blog (creative, I know) that's written by Scott Raab. Raab, a native Clevelander and Esquire senior writer, gives his nihilistic view of the LBJ carnival like only a northeast Ohioan can. Raab's blog is funny and, sadly, probably very true.
Enjoy my take and then enjoy his. But really, enjoy his more. His writing is phenomenal. And he went to Cleveland State of all places. Go fucking figure.
***
For the general American sporting public, it’s hard to sympathize with a Clevelander. Those who have been blessed with championships in cities such as New York, Boston, Chicago and Los Angeles can easily overlook the championship destitution (and actual destitution) of northeast Ohio while showering in their clubs’ previous successes.
So while everyone and their mothers are vying for King James’ services this year, it’s understandable that a ‘Land ombudsman has been ignored.
Luckily for us underrepresented Cavs fans, Cleveland native and Esquire senior writer Scott Raab has taken it upon himself to air the disgruntled and nihilistic voice for Ohioans everywhere with his LeBron Watch blog:
"If LeBron decides he’d rather toil in New York City for the Dolans or in Chicago for El Reinsdorfo, that’ll say all that needs saying about his loyalty and intelligence."
While his blog won’t win him any favors with LeBron himself, the following rings true for all Cleveland pessimists:
"If he leaves, LeBron will replace Art Modell as the most hated figure in the history of Cleveland sports…. All Modell did was fire Paul Brown, bully Jim Brown into early retirement, and move the Browns to Baltimore — that's the short-short list. But Modell didn't grow up in northeast Ohio and he didn't play the game. Should James go now — without a ring and with full, first-hand knowledge of what his departure will mean to millions of sports fans in Cleveland, Akron, and all over Ohio who will have nothing left but despair — nobody will remember him for seven years of excitement and hope. He'll forever be known for what he is: the son of a bitch who quit on the court, quit on his team, and quit on his home town."
Maybe it’s his above prediction of LeBron’s northeast Ohio status if he leaves. Maybe it’s his referral to the LBJ circus as a “dog-and-pony free-agent tour” and “media lap dance.” Whatever it is, it’s nice to finally have a sensible Cleveland perspective on LeBron James’ free agency in the media.
***
And for those who haven't peeped it yet, check out mine and Matt Marina's latest video projects on Big Sean and Fly Union. Watch out for Big Sean's debut album, Finally Famous, to drop in September along with new albums from fellow G.O.O.D. music artists Kanye West and Kid Cudi.
-Video #1
-Video #2
God Is Love,
Rev Rub
Lucky you.
With that being said, here's a blog post I wrote about an Esquire blog (creative, I know) that's written by Scott Raab. Raab, a native Clevelander and Esquire senior writer, gives his nihilistic view of the LBJ carnival like only a northeast Ohioan can. Raab's blog is funny and, sadly, probably very true.
Enjoy my take and then enjoy his. But really, enjoy his more. His writing is phenomenal. And he went to Cleveland State of all places. Go fucking figure.
***
For the general American sporting public, it’s hard to sympathize with a Clevelander. Those who have been blessed with championships in cities such as New York, Boston, Chicago and Los Angeles can easily overlook the championship destitution (and actual destitution) of northeast Ohio while showering in their clubs’ previous successes.
So while everyone and their mothers are vying for King James’ services this year, it’s understandable that a ‘Land ombudsman has been ignored.
Luckily for us underrepresented Cavs fans, Cleveland native and Esquire senior writer Scott Raab has taken it upon himself to air the disgruntled and nihilistic voice for Ohioans everywhere with his LeBron Watch blog:
"If LeBron decides he’d rather toil in New York City for the Dolans or in Chicago for El Reinsdorfo, that’ll say all that needs saying about his loyalty and intelligence."
While his blog won’t win him any favors with LeBron himself, the following rings true for all Cleveland pessimists:
"If he leaves, LeBron will replace Art Modell as the most hated figure in the history of Cleveland sports…. All Modell did was fire Paul Brown, bully Jim Brown into early retirement, and move the Browns to Baltimore — that's the short-short list. But Modell didn't grow up in northeast Ohio and he didn't play the game. Should James go now — without a ring and with full, first-hand knowledge of what his departure will mean to millions of sports fans in Cleveland, Akron, and all over Ohio who will have nothing left but despair — nobody will remember him for seven years of excitement and hope. He'll forever be known for what he is: the son of a bitch who quit on the court, quit on his team, and quit on his home town."
Maybe it’s his above prediction of LeBron’s northeast Ohio status if he leaves. Maybe it’s his referral to the LBJ circus as a “dog-and-pony free-agent tour” and “media lap dance.” Whatever it is, it’s nice to finally have a sensible Cleveland perspective on LeBron James’ free agency in the media.
***
And for those who haven't peeped it yet, check out mine and Matt Marina's latest video projects on Big Sean and Fly Union. Watch out for Big Sean's debut album, Finally Famous, to drop in September along with new albums from fellow G.O.O.D. music artists Kanye West and Kid Cudi.
-Video #1
-Video #2
God Is Love,
Rev Rub
Friday, June 11, 2010
When I Was A Young Boy My Momma Always Told Me To Take No Shit.
There are a few things that piss me off.
*Memo to self, you've used this introduction before. Switch it up!*
Damn, have I? Well, balls, looks like I'm sticking with it. In any case, there's a handful of items that really get under my skin. Saving everyone who reads this post a detailed list of qualified bitching, I'll specifically single out one item:
"ryan, cudi is better than any bs you would post up on fb. including clipse and consequence."
If you have the narcissistic balls to post that bad boy, then we've got serious problems.
Not because you disagree with my opinion, but, man, because of how fucking dumb you have to be to make such a statement.
Don't believe me? Try this versus this or this.
Now, it's not that me and my friend slaved and busted our asses to create this story in time or had the opportunity of a lifetime to profile three of the best and most connected lyricists in the game. Obviously it's peanuts--bush league, really--compared to getting KiD CuDi for a story.
But you're wrong if you're going to sit there and honestly admit to yourself that the Cudder is a better RAP artist than either Clipse or Cons The Don.
It's inconsequential to say Cudi is a better ARTIST than either of the other three (that'd be like comparing apples to oranges or saying that Soundgarden was better for the 90s than Ace of Base), but to say he's a better RAPPER is blasphemy. You're bordering on pariah-status if going on the links provided above. While I enjoy Cudi's product, he has constantly been stuck in this ambivalent middle ground between being a talented lyricist or a talented vocalist. He's like Drake without the voice... or the bars for that matter.
And in comparison to Clipse and Cons' dedication to only rhyming, saying that Cudi is a better lyricist is like trying to argue your younger brother's fourth-grade poetry project is better than Malice, Pusha T and/or Consequence's master thesis.
So if you're thinking that mommy and daddy's money apparently gives you the worldview to comment on hip-hop (since, you know, you're totally able to fly whimsically to both High Times' Cannabis Cup or Ultra Music Festival for your superior opinion), think again. I've got you in a vice-grip and I will win.
Every time.
"in cudi we trust."
Nah, in Rubless do we trust. And quality hip-hop.
Always Preaching Rubbers and Respect,
Rev Rub.
*Memo to self, you've used this introduction before. Switch it up!*
Damn, have I? Well, balls, looks like I'm sticking with it. In any case, there's a handful of items that really get under my skin. Saving everyone who reads this post a detailed list of qualified bitching, I'll specifically single out one item:
"ryan, cudi is better than any bs you would post up on fb. including clipse and consequence."
If you have the narcissistic balls to post that bad boy, then we've got serious problems.
Not because you disagree with my opinion, but, man, because of how fucking dumb you have to be to make such a statement.
Don't believe me? Try this versus this or this.
Now, it's not that me and my friend slaved and busted our asses to create this story in time or had the opportunity of a lifetime to profile three of the best and most connected lyricists in the game. Obviously it's peanuts--bush league, really--compared to getting KiD CuDi for a story.
But you're wrong if you're going to sit there and honestly admit to yourself that the Cudder is a better RAP artist than either Clipse or Cons The Don.
It's inconsequential to say Cudi is a better ARTIST than either of the other three (that'd be like comparing apples to oranges or saying that Soundgarden was better for the 90s than Ace of Base), but to say he's a better RAPPER is blasphemy. You're bordering on pariah-status if going on the links provided above. While I enjoy Cudi's product, he has constantly been stuck in this ambivalent middle ground between being a talented lyricist or a talented vocalist. He's like Drake without the voice... or the bars for that matter.
And in comparison to Clipse and Cons' dedication to only rhyming, saying that Cudi is a better lyricist is like trying to argue your younger brother's fourth-grade poetry project is better than Malice, Pusha T and/or Consequence's master thesis.
So if you're thinking that mommy and daddy's money apparently gives you the worldview to comment on hip-hop (since, you know, you're totally able to fly whimsically to both High Times' Cannabis Cup or Ultra Music Festival for your superior opinion), think again. I've got you in a vice-grip and I will win.
Every time.
"in cudi we trust."
Nah, in Rubless do we trust. And quality hip-hop.
Always Preaching Rubbers and Respect,
Rev Rub.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Mayday, Hooray.
I don't think there was anyone in Athens sadder than I when news broke that Wale would no longer be the headlining act of Mayday, the free concert being thrown by several OU student organizations. I've aborted two potential trips to both Oxford, Ohio, and Columbus to see him rep that DMV, only to see him fall into my lap--for FREE--and then snatched from me.
Granted, it's a little sketchy that he pulled out of his contract on the absolute last day that he could citing a foreshadowed sickness (two weeks in advance, mind you), but it's whatever: I guess I'll still support your Nike Boot-wearing ass, Wah.
However, through constant snooping, gossiping and eaves-dropping (but more or less attending the Backdrop meeting tonight as I was supposed to) Rev Rub has discovered the identities of the Mayday artists. Now I'd feel a little sketchy revealing the artists when they haven't been officially announced, but here's a list of ten acts and their respective Youtube vids for who it could be. Enjoy and we'll see ya May 20th.
B.o.B.: "Nothin' On You (feat. Bruno Mars)"
Wiz Khalifa & Curren$y: "The Life"
The Cool Kids: "Hammer Bros."
Big Sean: "Getcha Some"
Clipse: "Popular Demand (Popeye's) [feat. Cam'ron]"
Common & John Legend: "They Say"
Consequence: "Grammy Family (feat. Kanye West)"
Kid Cudi: "Pursuit of Happiness (feat. MGMT & Ratatat)"
Drake: "Made (feat. Big Sean)"
Talib Kweli: "Get By"
Granted, it's a little sketchy that he pulled out of his contract on the absolute last day that he could citing a foreshadowed sickness (two weeks in advance, mind you), but it's whatever: I guess I'll still support your Nike Boot-wearing ass, Wah.
However, through constant snooping, gossiping and eaves-dropping (but more or less attending the Backdrop meeting tonight as I was supposed to) Rev Rub has discovered the identities of the Mayday artists. Now I'd feel a little sketchy revealing the artists when they haven't been officially announced, but here's a list of ten acts and their respective Youtube vids for who it could be. Enjoy and we'll see ya May 20th.
B.o.B.: "Nothin' On You (feat. Bruno Mars)"
Wiz Khalifa & Curren$y: "The Life"
The Cool Kids: "Hammer Bros."
Big Sean: "Getcha Some"
Clipse: "Popular Demand (Popeye's) [feat. Cam'ron]"
Common & John Legend: "They Say"
Consequence: "Grammy Family (feat. Kanye West)"
Kid Cudi: "Pursuit of Happiness (feat. MGMT & Ratatat)"
Drake: "Made (feat. Big Sean)"
Talib Kweli: "Get By"
Friday, April 23, 2010
You Used To Be Alright, What Happened?
I've probably started off an older post with this same first sentence, but I haven't written in here in quite awhile. My bad. But as evidenced by that stale lead (and by my recent article about Athens band, She Bears), my creative drive has been off for some time. I don't know what happened and I didn't know it could just shut off, but, apparently, it can. I assume it's what people in the industry call "Writer's Block." What a bummer.
In any case, I'll keep this post short and sweet. Since that last paragraph (and, more specifically, the She Bears story) were like pulling teeth, I'll save myself the brain overload of trying to formulate an idea, argument, organization and the witty statements to support the former three items.
As always, enjoy my ramblings.
1. Let it be said that there isn't a more ominous introduction than the one to Radiohead's "The National Anthem." Let it also be said that there is no better word to describe "The National Anthem"'s introduction than the word "ominous." If the Holocaust had a soundtrack, it would've been this song on repeat (listen to the lyrics and the absolute cacophony of civilization crashing). Here's Radiohead's live performance of the song from a 2000 episode of SNL, complete with an original Thom Yorke epileptic attack.
2. Are definitive, monolithic, racial stereotypes dead in American culture? Stephen Marche believes so. An interesting look by Esquire at how Jersey Shore made stereotyping laughable, guilt-free and irrelevant.
God Is Love,
Rev Rub
In any case, I'll keep this post short and sweet. Since that last paragraph (and, more specifically, the She Bears story) were like pulling teeth, I'll save myself the brain overload of trying to formulate an idea, argument, organization and the witty statements to support the former three items.
As always, enjoy my ramblings.
1. Let it be said that there isn't a more ominous introduction than the one to Radiohead's "The National Anthem." Let it also be said that there is no better word to describe "The National Anthem"'s introduction than the word "ominous." If the Holocaust had a soundtrack, it would've been this song on repeat (listen to the lyrics and the absolute cacophony of civilization crashing). Here's Radiohead's live performance of the song from a 2000 episode of SNL, complete with an original Thom Yorke epileptic attack.
2. Are definitive, monolithic, racial stereotypes dead in American culture? Stephen Marche believes so. An interesting look by Esquire at how Jersey Shore made stereotyping laughable, guilt-free and irrelevant.
God Is Love,
Rev Rub
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Break It Like Beckham.
This is a quick post that I had to write for this dude for the blog, The Smoking Section. I wanted to use it as my cover letter clip, but apparently he has no fucking clue about soccer. So instead of considering my time wasted, might as well post it on here. This in response to David Beckham breaking his Achilles tendon on Sunday. Enjoy, of course.
Welp, there you have it, folks: there’s the end right there.
There will be no four World Cups. There will be no ticker-tape parade for finally breaking Peter Shilton’s England caps record. And there will almost certainly be a drop in Los Angeles Galaxy jerseys bought.
Yeah, Becks’ soccer career came crashing down in an instant. The tears that came flowing down his $100-million face while playing for Italian league behemoths, AC Milan, said it all.
Not that it hasn’t happened before, but this really could be the final straw.
And by final straw, I don’t just mean his World Cup career: everyone, we could be coming to the end of the Beckham era. Those magically bending free kicks could be seeing their last spot placement on the pitch.
As ESPN Soccernet analyst Tommy Smith brings into question, it isn’t just the idea that his England career is over, but his actual club career too.
Think about it: the man has a gorgeous wife, home dotted across continents and a few titles under his belt during his time with the Red Devils. The continuation of his career in Los Angeles—well, maybe not so much Los Angeles—and Milan was in testament to the man’s commitment to not only the game of soccer, but, most importantly, his country. He continued those arduous yearlong seasons to stay fit for England call-ups.
What left would Becks have to play for if he comes back from this crippling injury?
Sure, Kobe might attend a few games at the Home Depot Center in Carson. Maybe he’ll bring Tom too. And I’m sure the thousands of American soccer moms attending the games with their bratty kids we’ll be just as big of a selling point to Young Moolah Beckham.
Psh, let’s get real.
With the destruction of his Achilles tendon and his South African summer plans, so did Beckham’s career. You can almost hear its last little bits whirling down the drain.
As if MLS’ Players’ Union’s standoff wasn’t bad enough, the league gets this little tidbit of info. So if a tree falls in the woods and no one’s around to hear it, does it make sound? Well with Becks clearly injured for the foreseeable future, MLS surely won’t be making any sounds this coming season—even if a players’ strike is avoided.
So with the curtains being pulled on Dave’s career so is the golden era of Major League Soccer. Well, that is, unless this happens.
God Is Love,
Rev Rub
Welp, there you have it, folks: there’s the end right there.
There will be no four World Cups. There will be no ticker-tape parade for finally breaking Peter Shilton’s England caps record. And there will almost certainly be a drop in Los Angeles Galaxy jerseys bought.
Yeah, Becks’ soccer career came crashing down in an instant. The tears that came flowing down his $100-million face while playing for Italian league behemoths, AC Milan, said it all.
Not that it hasn’t happened before, but this really could be the final straw.
And by final straw, I don’t just mean his World Cup career: everyone, we could be coming to the end of the Beckham era. Those magically bending free kicks could be seeing their last spot placement on the pitch.
As ESPN Soccernet analyst Tommy Smith brings into question, it isn’t just the idea that his England career is over, but his actual club career too.
Think about it: the man has a gorgeous wife, home dotted across continents and a few titles under his belt during his time with the Red Devils. The continuation of his career in Los Angeles—well, maybe not so much Los Angeles—and Milan was in testament to the man’s commitment to not only the game of soccer, but, most importantly, his country. He continued those arduous yearlong seasons to stay fit for England call-ups.
What left would Becks have to play for if he comes back from this crippling injury?
Sure, Kobe might attend a few games at the Home Depot Center in Carson. Maybe he’ll bring Tom too. And I’m sure the thousands of American soccer moms attending the games with their bratty kids we’ll be just as big of a selling point to Young Moolah Beckham.
Psh, let’s get real.
With the destruction of his Achilles tendon and his South African summer plans, so did Beckham’s career. You can almost hear its last little bits whirling down the drain.
As if MLS’ Players’ Union’s standoff wasn’t bad enough, the league gets this little tidbit of info. So if a tree falls in the woods and no one’s around to hear it, does it make sound? Well with Becks clearly injured for the foreseeable future, MLS surely won’t be making any sounds this coming season—even if a players’ strike is avoided.
So with the curtains being pulled on Dave’s career so is the golden era of Major League Soccer. Well, that is, unless this happens.
God Is Love,
Rev Rub
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