"Wait, That's Sam Yoon's Music!"

Strangely enough, the Boston mayoral race now resembles an episode of the WWF's "Monday Night Raw." After finishing third in last week's primary, knocking him out of the race, City Councilor Sam Yoon has joined forces with the second-place finisher, fellow Councilor Michael Flaherty, to form a tag-team against Mayor Menino.

This is a wise strategy from one perspective. Menino only earned about 51 percent of the vote in the primary. With Menino's two most potent challengers joining forces, for the first time there's a realistic chance that he'll be toppled. Of course, this depends on Yoon's and Flaherty's followers finding the other as appealing. But if they didn't vote for Menino the first time in a nonpartisan election, they probably won't vote for him given a second chance.

This is a hilarious strategy from any other perspective. The idea of a mayoral ticket has never existed before, and it certainly left Menino flabbergasted (“What do you mean ticket?’’ he told the Globe). More than anything else, it reminds me of a WWF wrestler rushing to the ring from backstage in the middle of a fight, to illegally beat up on a wrestler who he "hates." The referee hopelessly starts ringing the bell to signal the match is over. The crowd starts booing or cheering. Jim Ross shouts, "Wait, that's the Mad Dog's music! What is he doing here?!" Too funny.

Even in the above photo from today's Globe, where they're triumphantly raising each other's arms, Yoon and Flaherty look like they should be in tights and greased in palm oil. That doesn't mean I wouldn't vote for them, though, if I had the option. In fact, maybe I would solely because of this maneuver.

Update: The Herald has taken to calling the Flaherty-Yoon duo "Floon," which I can only assume is an attempt to discredit them. That's somewhat surprising considering the Herald has never been kind to Menino, but then, the paper's general MO is saying no one ever does anything right. Not sure how anyone can live like this, but the Herald's newsroom manages it.

Kanye Was Half-Right

Sure, Kanye West was a boorish idiot for accosting Taylor Swift in the middle of an acceptance speech at the MTV Music Video Awards two weeks ago. But as poor as his medium was for trying to make the point, his message was dead on: the video for Beyonce's "Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)" is one of the best ever. The colors, the staging, the outfits, the impossibly high heels, the impossibly long legs, the impossibly coordinated dance moves.

The whole video combines the simple and the outlandish in a captivating way. Unfortunately, you have to click here to view it. Her record company has banned embedding it.

The Sequel To Your Life

Oh, wow: Pavement, the namesake of this blog, is reuniting! Every music Web site made a gigantic deal of it earlier this week as the news trickled, while, true to form, Pavement and its longtime label, Matador, shrugged their shoulders.

Pavement is easily the band at the top of my list of ones I've yet to see in concert. They've only announced two shows so far, for Sept. 21 and 22, 2010, in Central Park. But should they come to Boston for a tour, I'll do my best to be there. (A new classmate and I were joking Wednesday about how ridiculous it is to have tickets go on sale more than a year in advance of a show, but the first and only one on sale so far sold out after two minutes. I suppose indie-rock kids can plan 12 months in advance, as the Times wondered this morning.)

Since the Pixies reunited for the failed 2004 Lollapalooza tour to lucrative excitement (the tour's failure wasn't their fault), countless critically loved, commercially overlooked bands from the 1980s and early 1990s have done the same. As is the case with all art, time creates fondness, and it certainly helps when your former 20-something fans are now at least in their late-30s, with higher salaries. Dinosaur Jr., the Feelies and Mission of Burma quickly come to mind as other examples. Hand in hand with the phenomenon is one, largely driven by the All Tomorrow's Parties festivals, where popular indie bands perform their trademark record, first song to last, live.

In art, the pinnacle of one's career is so much more glaringly obvious than anywhere else (though maybe that's only the case because an artist's career is public and, say, an accountant's, isn't). I suppose that's because good art takes such effort to produce, meaning only the highest echelon can do it for more than a brief period of time, and even they have missteps too.

It's understandable why fans want to dwell on the pinnacle -- who wants to listen to/read/watch something bad? But the moment an artist steps back and performs a 10-year-old record note for note, front to back, hasn't he also admitted that his best moments are in the past, at least for now? Why this phenomenon of reliving the past is so much more prevalent in rock confuses me. I don't think Philip Roth is going to announce a book tour where he'll read "Portnoy's Complaint" anytime soon, so why rock and roll?

My good friend, who says choosing your favorite Pavement record is like choosing your favorite child, e-mailed to say he hopes they don't make another album. He's probably right, considering their oeuvre is untouchable and peerless. But, then, what's so bad about them making another record, so they don't only re-live the past and acknowledge it's better than what there is now?

Anyway, to the good times: The video to "Shady Lane," directed by Spike Jonze, from which this post's title takes its name, is above.

We Built This City

Three weeks ago, the Globe published a scathing story on Boston Mayor Thomas Menino's role in guiding city development during his 16-year tenure. Essentially, concluded the reporters, development has followed Menino's whims: a new zoning code in response to an addition to a house in Roslindale he didn't like; choosing the tops on new office towers (he apparently loves roofs and doors); unrealized, scattered proposals to move City Hall to the underdeveloped South Boston Waterfront and build a 1,000-foot-tall skyscraper, among others.

Six days before a primary Menino is sure to win (as he is the general election), further extending his streak as the city's longest-serving mayor, this is something very important to ponder. Menino's tenure is hard to criticize; Boston circa 2009, compared to the country's other major metropolitan areas, is relatively well positioned. It has strong business and education institutions, attractive neighborhoods and cultural attractions and a decent crime rate, though is very expensive and has an anemic population growth rate, as is the case with most Northeast cities.

However, when the man subsumes the institution -- in this case, it's the Boston Redevelopment Authority, the city's planning and redevelopment agency -- problems arise. Every individual falters, and when politicians falter, they often do so in extended streaks. The strength of the institution compensates for this, but the BRA's has been purposefully eroded by Menino, who, to simplify, tells the agency whether to approve a project. There's no check, which, of course, is important for democracy's sake. When it comes to urban planning, that's even more important so that a city doesn't implement ideas that send it off track for years to come.

In a book on Boston's planning history I recently read, the author recounted how the city's postwar development was at its finest when the BRA was at its finest and an equal to the mayor's office. The conclusion isn't terribly surprising, considering egotistical power is never a good thing. Everyone prefers rational, predictable decision-making to whimsy. But is Menino's model of benevolent paternalism (authoritarianism?) enough to merit voting him out of office?

Update: The general idea of this post also applies to the mayor one major city south of Boston, who decided last year he didn't want to live a life of philanthropy, so he convinced the city council to extend the city's term limits so he could continue doing "what's best for everyone."

Sincere Apologies To Everyone Who Walks

The worst part about my job the past four years was how much it required me to drive: My beloved 2003 red Subaru Outback station logged more than 120,000 miles in that span, primarily because my commute was at least 35 miles each way for all of it. Now that I'm a student again, I can refreshingly walk to campus every day in 20 minutes (and walk most places in general because I live in Cambridge, Mass.)

Walking everyday is an amazing eye-opener to how frustrating cars are -- the stopping, the starting, the swerving, etc. How I navigated the intersection of Beacon and Cambridge streets has acquired a new level of amazement. But, to bury the lede, the main point of this post is how much cars dominate the road no matter where you are while walking. Each time I cross a street, even if it's a quiet intersection without lights, I have to look carefully for cars turning or nudging out to make a turn. Sometimes, I find myself having to stare intently at them to ensure they see me. I realized a couple of days ago that I'm sure this is exactly how I drive, so, to all walkers out there, I now know what it's like and I'm sorry.

So, Um, Is Bangor, Maine, Cool?

If the Internet's greatest power is its centrifugal force -- art, business, politics, etc, can be produced anywhere and sent everywhere with a high-speed connection -- why are people moving to already existing cities with already established scenes instead of creating their own? Bangor, Maine, may be an extreme example, considering its harsh weather, but: Couldn't, or shouldn't, Bangor be cool?

I visited Bangor last month for Kah-Bang, an indie-rock festival held in a park on the Penobscot River, which runs through downtown. The show was exceedingly cool, with great performances by Ra Ra Riot and Ida Maria, but I was also struck by downtown itself: about seven blocks by seven blocks, with lovely, old-style New England facades and, on a summer Saturday afternoon, almost entirely empty. There were several unused storefronts and, aside from concertgoers who decided to take a walk (and stop somewhere for a beer), barely anyone around.

In an interview with the Bangor Daily News, the festival's organizers explained they conceived it while sitting at a bar, talking about how cool it would be to have an indie-rock show in Bangor. Actually executing such a festival, they argued, is "further proof that Bangor is finally turning the corner and building a head of steam as far as there being a real art and music scene in the Queen City. All it takes is a few motivated people to make cool things happen."

Indeed. Whoever serves as Bangor's mayor should hitch his tenure to those organizers. They're the people who make places exciting, attractive and buzz-worthy, which, with some luck and 15 years, turns into families and businesses, people patronizing other businesses and a busy downtown. Convince the council to approve property tax breaks for opening stores in specific buildings downtown, incentives for licensing art galleries/spaces, group marketing for local businesses with the city's planning office. Whatever it is, the mayor needs to go to that bar, talk to those organizers and create a strategy for what they think would make Bangor work. It starts by creating your own scene and exporting it.

Being Uncool Is Cool And Being Cool Is Uncool? Or Is It The Other Way Around?

Exhibit A of why I like New York: The lemon sherbert popsicle I bought from an indie ice-cream truck at the corner of Spring and Mulberry Streets two weeks ago. Exhibit B: People are turning unused Dumpsters into swimming pools.

Exhibit K of why I don't like New York: It's cool this summer to have a (small) gut. Exhibit L: It's cool this summer to pretend you're not living comfortably, and order a six-pack for your table instead of bottle service. Exhibit M: Manhattan is a mall.

There are no Dash Snows or Karen Os in Boston -- or general scenes to speak of. In fact, until starting here six days ago, I didn't think there were any hipsters. Of course there is pretension in the air; there is anywhere with a general population that is well-educated and well-compensated. But it's not material and hype-driven. Most places accept you when come as you are. I don't know anyone who objects to that.

My ambivalence toward New York is never-ending, perhaps most cheekily expressed by the lyrics of LCD Soundsystem's "New York, I Love You, But You're Bringing Me Down," whose cheeky video, featuring Kermit the Frog, is above. An excerpt: "New York, you're safer / And you're wasting my time / Our records all show / You were filthy but fine / But they shuttered your stores / When you opened the doors / To the cops who were bored / Once they'd run out of crime."

Circa 2009, in the decentralization that dominates everything about the Internet era, do we really have to be in New York to be at the epicenter of business, arts, life, etc? To be with it? To be cool? (Can anyone understand what being cool is?) Isn't the city's current overriding legacy that of an epicenter of the global financial crisis and recession? Who knows? Sure, there's exaggeration in this post, but, at least on a personal level, the thrill I experience in New York is no longer what it once was. I'm unsure if I'm happy about that.