#but it also accounts for the personality change between Ghost and Jimmy in a way that fiends don’t
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I just remembered I’ve seen chainsaw man! PIE would kill it in that universe.
First start they’d be in either America or Europe so they wouldn’t have to deal with Makima’s BS 90% of the time, already a massive benefit. Downside, ‘merica is where the gun devil is from, and they probably have to deal with that a lot.
It’s a world where devils getting power from people being scared of them is common knowledge, making it easier to find jobs. Or harder, because now they’d have competition… whatever the case, they’re able to frequently interact with and research the devils and what they’re capable of and stuff.
Lol just realized if they were the Devil Investigators Extraordinaire they’d be DIE. Doing what the Destroyers of the Investigators Extraordinaire couldn’t: a proper acronym.
I’m just rambling to myself about this, I dunno how much I’m actually gonna do with it… I wonder if Gavin would have a contract with the ghost devil or have something else going on there…
Acachalla family likely consists of almost entirely fiends and devils, but I don’t know what they’d be, I think it’d be funny if Maloney was a fiend or had a contract with a bird devil bc I think it’d be funny that being around Ghost might make him stronger.. Spencer is definitely a fiend since… he canonically fits the criteria, he’s possessing a corpse— he’s probably one that’s fallen out of power bc people aren’t as scared of it anymore on top of being a fiend.
I could see Light Zeron’s situation being a contract, but not Ghost and Jimmy’s. I also Know CBF is a devil but I don’t know what kind of devil or why it would latch to Gregory specifically. Like, what’s scary about cardboard boxes? It’s probably not the boxes that’s the scary thing.
#taleblr#taleblr au#the real question is— is Jimmy the knife devil or a secrets devil?#I think secrets fits the brand more— but him being a knife devil would make ghost into someone with a contract with a weapon devil and#from what I can tell those ones can switch between human form and devil-y form#but it also accounts for the personality change between Ghost and Jimmy in a way that fiends don’t#I could also see him as a devil of betrayal being translated into literal backstabbing and thus: knife demon and secrets#but if he’s a devil of secrets then Ghost not even knowing he’s hosting the devil would add to that
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Puttin’ on the Ritz
No fame is more fleeting than the showbiz kind. Some entertainers are just too much in and of a particular time. In the 1920s Harry Richman was a big star, billed as the Greatest Entertainer In America. He could sing and play piano, dance and act a little; he ran a hugely successful nightclub, was the toast of Broadway and, very briefly, a star in Hollywood; he wrote or introduced several songs that are still sung. But most of all he just personified the Roaring Twenties. He was the sleek, rakish, vaguely smarmy bon vivant in top hat and tails who was enjoying the decade's non-stop party as much as you were. It's been said that he was to the 1920s what the Rat Pack were to their era. Harry's career peaked just as the party crashed to a halt at the end of the decade, and he faded out in the 1930s. If his name comes up at all today, it's probably less often as an entertainer than as a footnote in aviation history.
He was born Harry Reichman in Cincinnati in 1895. His dad, a Russian Jewish immigrant, started out peddling eyeglasses door to door, carrying all his equipment on his back. He worked his way up to a prosperous wholesale business and real estate empire, and developed a taste for the high life. It killed him by the time Harry was an adolescent. In his thoroughly entertaining (sometimes suspiciously so) 1966 autobiography A Hell of a Life, Harry paints himself as a fecklessly scheming kid who grew up quick. At nine, he writes, he was a weekend ticket taker at an amusement park, shortchanging every customer he could because he was saving up to marry his childhood sweetheart. One night he showed off his ill-gotten riches by taking the girl out on the town. They stayed out too late to go home, so Harry got them a hotel room. When the cops burst through the door in the wee hours they found the kids sleeping fully clothed on separate beds. A doctor confirmed that the girl's honor was intact. Her dad put the kibosh to their romance anyway.
Harry's mother bought him piano lessons, dreaming he'd be a concert pianist, but like most kids at the time he was more interested in ragtime and jazz. He left home at around fourteen and headed to Indianapolis. There he and a kid who played fiddle went door to door in the kind of neighborhoods where an upright in the parlor wasn't uncommon. They'd bang out a few popular tunes for spare change. As Remington & Reichman they were soon touring the very small-time Webster circuit of vaudeville theaters in the Dakotas and Canada, known to vaudevillians as the Death Trail. Harry kept working his way around the west, singing at the piano in saloons and whorehouses, working as a singing waiter in restaurants, as part of a "Hawaiian" hula act in a circus sideshow. At the 1915 Panama-Pacific International Exhibition in San Francisco he was in a musical act that opened for Harry Houdini, fifteen shows a day. Playing in Los Angeles clubs favored by the movie crowd he got to be pals with Charlie Chaplin and Al Jolson, whom he idolized. Jolson got him a shot at Ziegfeld's Midnight Frolic, the late-night club revue that gave Eddie Cantor his big break. Harry raced to New York, but flopped and was canned after only one night. He was so despondent he ran off and joined the Navy.
He arrived back in New York in 1920, just when Prohibition did too. Now he and the city were ready for each other. On vaudeville stages he found work as an accompanist for headliners like the singer Nora Bayes and the beautiful twin Dolly Sisters, and for a while was Mae West's on-stage pianist and straight man. He was reluctant to speak lines at first because he had a lisp that he could hide more easily when singing. West convinced him it was a distinguishing feature. He soon got top billing on his own on the Keith-Albee circuit. He also played at ritzy speakeasies like the Beaux Arts, where, he claims, Prohibition's hostess with the mostest Texas Guinan stole her signature line "Give the little girls a big hand" from him.
Nils T. Granlund, known as NTG, was both a radio pioneer and the publicist for Marcus Loew's movie theater empire. He hired Harry to headline live radio shows from Loew's State Theatre, the movie palace in Times Square. Harry plugged new songs on air, like Billy Rose's "Does the Chewing Gum Lose Its Flavor on the Bedpost Overnight?" With NTG's help he opened his own Club Richman just behind Carnegie Hall. Harry made it one of the most opulent and exclusive nightclub/speakeasies in town. A lot of Broadway and movie stars became regulars, as of course did Mayor Jimmy Walker, and the Vanderbilts and Whitneys, and foreign royalty -- you saw everybody who was anybody there.
Or wanted to be somebody, like the chorus girl Lucille Le Seur. Accounts vary as to how Lucille got into the swank club. In one version, she convinced NTG, her sugar daddy at the time, to get her a spot in the club dancing the Charleston. NTG introduced her to Loew, who arranged a screen test at MGM, where she'd get her first tiny roles in 1925. Studio chief Louis B. Mayer decided her name sounded like Le Sewer, so the studio ran a publicity campaign in which the fans got to give her a new name: Joan Crawford. She never liked it.
For his part, Harry claimed that he discovered Crawford. He did have an eye for the beauties. He was one of the first to spot Jean Harlow, Sally Rand and Maureen O'Sullivan. Harry was an infamous ladies' man, bedding a long line of beauties from chorus girls to socialites to Harlow, maybe Rand, and Clara Bow. According to Harry, his office at the club had a secret door for sneaking them in and out while their husbands or dates drummed their fingers at their tables thinking they were just taking a long time powdering their noses. He says that the Hollywood Bowl couldn't hold all the women he had, and classes himself "a specialist in man's favorite sport."
Between the club and his other gigs Harry minted money and became the playboy nonpareil. He wore the finest bespoke suits and carried a gold cigarette case with his initials on it in diamonds. He commuted in a Rolls from Manhattan to his big house out on the water in Beechhurst, Queens, where he had a yacht and threw Gatsby-like parties for celebrities, beauties and millionaires. He learned to fly and kept a growing fleet of planes at nearby Flushing Airport. Harry worked hard, played hard, drank oceans of booze and smoked whole fields of tobacco. Everyone marveled at his stamina and joie de vivre even in that over-the-top decade.
In 1926, while still playing the host at his club, Harry got a featured role on Broadway in George White's Scandals, one of several knockoffs of the Ziegfeld Follies. After a boffo year it toured other cities, including Cincinnati, where, he notes ruefully, it tanked. In 1930 he headlined Lew Leslie's International Revue, where he introduced "On the Sunny Side of the Street." And in 1931 he made it, finally, into the Follies as well. He got his choice of songs to perform, including "Lullaby of Broadway." He was at the top of his career in those shows, the king of Broadway; his friend Eddie Cantor memorably said he wore Broadway like a boutonniere.
He didn't do so well in Hollywood. He starred, playing himself as "Harry Raymond," in the 1930 musical Puttin' on the Ritz, in which he introduced the song by his pal Irving Berlin. The movie did mediocre business then and is barely watchable now except for that number, Harry gliding around in front of an army of dancers with his top hat tilted over one eye. His recording of the song, which some consider the best, was a hit. (Among his other records are Berlin's "Blue Skies," his own "Muddy Waters" and a pretty wonderful Jolson-ish rendition of "Ain't She Sweet.") While in Hollywood to make the film he met Clara Bow. Teamed up at first for publicity purposes only, they became a hot item and got engaged. Then she suddenly married someone else. Hearing the news, he says, was the only time in his life that he fainted.
He'd make only two more feature films and one short. He sums them up this way: "All were forgettable. It became clear to me that whatever I had was best projected in person, either on the stage or in a night club." By the time he made the last film, released in 1938, he was well past his prime. When the Depression hit and then Prohibition ended, guys like Harry, icons of the Roaring Twenties, just didn't fit the new reality. To his credit, he didn't hang around like some other ghosts of the 1920s did. He left New York and settled in Miami, which was booming and lousy with new nightclubs where he could coast for a few years on his dazzling past. He went fishing with Hemingway and played with his airplanes.
His real fame in the 1930s came in fact as a flyer. In the mid-1930s he'd set altitude and speed records. Then in 1935 he and the pilot Dick Merrill made the world's first round-trip transatlantic flight in a single-engine plane. They filled the plane with tens of thousands of ping-pong balls as flotation devices should they land in the soup. Harry being Harry, after reaching Wales on the outward leg of the trip, they flew on to Paris to party all night with Maurice Chevalier before making the return flight. They landed upside-down in a Newfoundland bog, but they made it. It wasn't as big a deal as Lindbergh's one-way crossing in 1927, but Harry calls it the high point of his life.
Harry didn't make much news after that. He played some clubs through the 1940s, his looks and voice rough from all that carousing and smoking. He still had lots of friends in the show business who tried to engineer comebacks for him, but the public had long since forgotten him. By the time A Hell of a Life came out in 1966 he'd spent the millions he'd made in his heyday and was living alone, quietly and frugally, in Burbank, an old guy who'd gone full-tilt as long as he could, had a hell of a lot of memories and not too many regrets. He died in 1972.
by John Strasbaugh
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via Politics – FiveThirtyEight
Shortly before killing 50 people at two New Zealand mosques, the man arrested for the Christchurch massacre posted an online manifesto that alluded to the “Great Replacement” — a racist demographic theory that stokes fears of white people becoming, effectively, extinct. Within hours of the shootings, this act of terrorism inspired by a conspiracy theory had already gone on to birth conspiracy theories about itself. Conservative radio host Rush Limbaugh speculated that the shooter was a secret leftist hoping to use the attack to smear the reputation of the political right.
That a single tragedy could be so tangled in conspiracy mongering should be no surprise at this point. We’ve all watched conspiracies grow from myriad soils: the missing Malaysia Airlines jet, the political passions of George Soros, vaccines, climate change, even the football secrets of the New England Patriots. Conspiracy theories appear to have become a major part of how we, as a society, process the news. It might be harder to think of an emotionally tinged event that didn’t provoke a conspiracy theory than it is to rattle off a list of the ones that did.
The ubiquity — and risks — of all these conspiracies has caught the attention of scientists. For years, the potentially dangerous consequences of conspiracy led many researchers to approach belief in conspiracies as a pathology in need of a cure. But that train of thought tended to awkwardly clash against some of the facts. The more we learn about conspiracy beliefs, the more normal they look — and the more some scientists worry that trying to prevent them could present its own dangers.
The experts I spoke with all said that the internet had changed the way conspiracies spread, but conspiracies, both dangerous and petty, have always been with us. Nobody knows, really, how popular conspiracy beliefs used to be, because it wasn’t a thing surveys regularly tracked until recently, said Jan-Willem van Prooijen, a psychologist at VU Amsterdam. But he and Michael Wood, professor of psychology at the UK’s University of Winchester, both pointed to a study that suggests conspiracies have consistently peered out of the pages of American newspapers for at least a century.
Joseph Uscinski, a political scientist at the University of Miami, cataloged and coded more than 100,000 letters to the editor published in The New York Times and the Chicago Tribune, and found the number of letters alleging and discussing conspiracy theories to have been pretty consistent over the last 120 years. This study isn’t perfect — the newspapers are still gatekeepers to what conspiracies were deemed fit to publish — but because it encompasses two different papers over a wide swath of time and many editorial leadership changes, Uscinski told me that it’s reasonable to assume we’re looking at something that reflects what interests readers, more so than what interests editors.
That research is significant to understanding conspiracy belief as a societal norm. “There was some crazy stuff that they were more than happy to publish,” Uscinski said. “The CIA is creating lesbianism. We found alien planets. … Jimmy Carter is a communist agent. Secret baby farms where they’re growing organs for people. It all wound up in there.”
And, it turns out, most of us believe in some strange goings-on behind the curtains. More than half of Americans think there was more than one person involved in the assassination of John F. Kennedy, for example. A 2014 study found that more than half of Americans believe in at least one medical conspiracy — a list that includes things like doctors giving children vaccines they know to be dangerous or the idea that the Food and Drug Administration intentionally suppresses natural cancer cures because of pressure from the pharmaceutical industry. The more specific conspiracies you ask about in polls, the higher the percentage of Americans that believe in at least one, Uscinski said. He thinks it’s likely everyone has a pet conspiracy to call their own.
What’s more, conspiracy beliefs aren’t necessarily all that special, said Carrie Leonard, a postdoctoral fellow in psychology at the University of Lethbridge in Canada. Leonard studies broader categories of what are known as “erroneous beliefs” — paranormal experiences, gambling fallacies, that sort of thing. The more we learn about conspiracy beliefs, the more they seem to have in common with these other kinds of wrong ideas, she said. Feeling a lack of control over various aspects of life, a tendency toward paranoid thinking, failure to understand and use statistics and probabilistic reasoning — all those things correlate with belief in ghosts and slot-machine prowess as much as with belief in the Illuminati. In fact, Leonard said, if you believe in the paranormal, you’re more likely to believe in conspiracy theories, and vice versa. (A finding that is probably completely unsurprising to the editors of The Fortean Times.)
At the same time, though, conspiracy theories have a sociopolitical aspect that makes them stand out. Leonard, and other researchers, think of belief in conspiracy as an interaction between individual tendencies and social circumstances. So, for instance, if you’re part of a group that is marginalized by society or lacks power in important ways you’re more likely to believe in conspiracy theories. That means being a member of a racial minority is a predictor of conspiracy belief — and so is unemployment, low economic status, or even just being a member of a cultural group that’s looked down on by people in positions of power.
Likewise, consider who is accusing whom of engaging in conspiracy. Uscinski’s study of newspaper letters to the editor tracked the social status of the letter writers. Consistently, he found conspiracies were punching up. Not only did average people write more than 70 percent of the conspiracy letters — as opposed to elite members of society — the conspiracies alleged were usually aimed at people in positions of power. There’s also no evidence to suggest that conspiracy belief is a phenomenon of the far right or the far left, Uscinski said. Americans broadly believe in a “them” pulling the strings and manipulating the country.
And this is where conspiracy beliefs start to get tangled up with truth. Because history does contain real examples of conspiracy. Pizzagate was a dangerous lie that led an armed man to walk into a family restaurant, convinced he was there to rescue children from pedophilic members of the Democratic Party. But that incident also exists in the same universe as the Tuskegee experiments, redlining and the Iran-Contra Affair. “I have this conspiracy that Western governments are involved in an international spying ring,” Wood said. “Before about 2014 that would have made you a conspiracy theorist. Now we know it’s true.”
Summoning — and demonizing — the belief in conspiracies can also have political consequences. “During the Bush Administration, the left was going fucking bonkers … about 9/11 and Halliburton and Cheney and Blackwater and all this stuff,” Uscinski said. “As soon as Obama won they didn’t give a shit about any of that stuff anymore. They did not care. It was politically and socially inert.” In turn, conspiracy theories about Obama flourished on the right. Uscinski said he is frustrated by this tendency for partisans to build up massive conspiracy infrastructures when they are out of power, only to develop a sudden amnesia and deep concern about the conspiracy mongering behavior of the other side once power is restored. It’s a cycle, he said that threatened to make social science a tool of partisan slapfights more than a standard of truth. And in a 2017 paper, he argued that conspiracy beliefs could even be useful parts of the democratic process, calling them “tools for dissent used by the weak to balance against power.”
These issues add up to more scientists beginning to have questions about what the goals of conspiracy belief research should actually be. Do we want an entire field of study aimed at preventing conspiracy theories from forming and dispelling the ones that do?
“I don’t think so,” Wood said. “I’m sure some people would disagree with me on that. But the objective shouldn’t be nobody speculates about people in power abusing power. That’s a terrible outcome for the world.”
He’s right — some scientists do disagree. Leonard, for instance, acknowledged that the world is complex, but viewed conspiracy theories as largely negative — erroneous beliefs, like gambling fallacies, but with the power to disrupt whole societies rather than just one person’s bank account.
Of course, all this debate assumes eliminating conspiracy theories is even possible. Van Prooijen told me that he’s currently working on a line of research to see whether a false conspiracy belief can be corrected by giving the people who believe in it something they’ve lacked — power and control over their own lives. In laboratory experiments, this seems to work, he said. Empower people, give them a sense of control, operate with transparency, and conspiracy theories seem to become less appealing.
Trouble is, in the real world, who has the ability to offer that kind of empowerment?
That’s right. THEM.
“If a group of people strongly distrusts a government or group of leaders, anything they do will raise suspicion,” van Prooijen said. Whether they want to get rid of conspiracies or not, scientists (and global leaders) are kind of stuck. Conspiracy beliefs are the norm, and difficult to shake because the people with the most interest in shaking them are, usually, the very people the conspiracy is meant to fight. As van Prooijen put it: “It’s not an easy task.”
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Carrie Underwood: Cry Pretty Album Review
This album represents Carrie's first formal role as producer (although there have been indications that she frequently discussed production and made suggestions before.) Here she shares production with David Garcia, a relatively new connection, that evolved from songwriting together. Although Garcia has had some recent connection with Mainstream Country, his main experience has been in Pop and Contemporary Christian Music, enabling him to bring mixed influences, and probably relatively few genre preconceptions, to the production desk. Many of the songs do strike me as having a definite "Carrie" feel, and I think she has made considerable use of the freedom her co-producer role has given her to innovate and express herself in a variety of ways. What I believe is likely to have been of considerable help to Carrie in expressing musically the styles she wanted to develop, and in giving much of the album an overall cohesion is the continuity of key musicians. Throughout her major label career, Carrie has shown a marked tendency to use the same session players on substantial parts of her albums. Her favoured rhythm section, of Chris McHugh on drums and Jimmie Lee Sloas on bass, have appeared on every one of her albums, as has electric guitarist, Tom Bukovac, and although the same combination is not heard on every track, it is on the majority. Other players, such as multi string specialist, Ilya Toshinskiy, and flatpicking acoustic guitarist, Bryan Sutton, are also well known from several earlier apperarences. This tends to give rise to a situation in which she knows and trusts the musicians, and they are pretty familiar with her singing styles. A number of other specialist players also make a strong contribution, and the combinations show that the two producers have been prepared to put considerable effort into musical planning and innovation. This has resulted in a situation in which the music and the vocal lines seem particularly to complement each other, and, for me, this remains apparent even when bold and complex production is being employed. One result is that I find that Carrie's exceptional vocal talent often comes across with more variety and clarity than ever.
The two albums with which I'd be most inclined to compare this one are "Storyteller" and "Some Hearts". "Storyteller" is an easy comparison, since I think this album noticeably builds on directions which Carrie was already exploring on its predecessor. In that category I'd place the willingness to explore more personal and intimate themes, the desire to push some songs in a deeper Country stylistic direction, and the Pop-leaning experiments in other songs. All those trends occurred, to some extent, in earlier work - but I feel it is in the two most recent albums that they find a fuller expression - a sign of Carrie's greater maturity and confidence, and perhaps willingness to explore areas she chooses, with relatively less concern for the expectations of outside interests.
The comparison with "Some Hearts" may be less obvious, but I mention it for two reasons. Firstly, both albums have a group of standout songs that are stylistically different from other parts of the album, and which I consider to be among Carrie's best work. The four Country singles from "Some Hearts" were largely responsible for winning her critical acclaim and her early spate of award wins at the Country trade shows, and it was only later, with lighter songs such as "Last Name" and "All American Girl" that some of that support moved away from her, notwithstanding her continued commercial success. I believe there is a block of songs on "Cry Pretty" which, if they receive sufficiently wide exposure, could restore her earlier reputation.
The second reason is that both "Some Hearts" and "Cry Pretty" appear to be aimed at a mixed audience - probably to a greater extent than the intervening albums, which, while varied, stemmed from a situation in which Carrie's career seemed securely focused on a prominent position within Mainstream Country radio. "Some Hearts" came at a time when that position was not secure, and her reputation as a Country singer of note had to be established, while, at the same time keeping faith with the more mixed audience which had encountered her on "American Idol". In the case of "Cry Pretty", Carrie is arguably also at something of a career turning point, since gaining a wider international audience is one of the stated objectives of her move to a new label group - which, by definition, means, to some extent, looking beyond Mainstream Country radio. I think it would probably be a mistake to over-emphasize that point, because much of the album has the feel of being personal to Carrie, expressing what she wants to say, as an individual and as an artist, rather than simply being targeted to particular tastes. But, nevertheless, the potential audiences for different types of song do seem to have been taken into account,
(The bonus track, "The Champion", is the only one with a different producer, Jim Jonsin, and, while the new direction it explored, and the interest and popularity it aroused, justified its album place as an extra, because of its very different origins and purpose, I've not included it in this album review)
CRY PRETTY
This title track, and lead single was co-written with the three Love Junkies, who also provided one of the most memorable (and emotional) songs, "Like I'll Never Love You Again", on Carrie's last album. This one sets the scene for the new album, by emphasizing some of the developments in production, vocal delivery, and more personal themes that Carrie is experimenting with. The first minute is a slow, stark and emotional statement of feelings, accompanied by a sparse arrangement that creates a sense of foreboding. This is probably one of the longest passages of quiet vocal development that Carrie has used, and is very effective in identifying the raw sense of dichotomy between an artist's inner feelings, and the expectations of glamour that her public role insists on. It's followed by a bursting out of Carrie's well known power singing. Inevitably, perhaps, this section seems less innovative, but it serves to reassure the many listeners who principally identify with this style that it is still an important part of her stylistic range. It is in three quarter time, evoking the traditional Country Waltz feel - a reminder that Carrie likes to combine striking modern arrangements with touches that still pay homage to older styles. What I find becomes particularly impressive and unusual about the later development of the song is that both the music and the voice continue to build up into an increasing sense of chaos and despair, in which the lyric sometimes melts into a wordless wail. This is very effective in expressing the theme of the song that, regardless of appearances, an artist might be almost overwhelmed by her own inner feelings, that can arise from matters quite beyond the artificiality of her stage role. In that sense I would regard this song as one of four on the album that deal with topical issues: the demands of the entertainment world (here); substance abuse ("Spinning Bottles"); empathy with victims of gun violence ("The Bullet", and "Love Wins"); political division and prejudice ("Love Wins"). Carrie has addressed social issues before ("Temporary Home", "Change" and "Nobody Ever Told You" being earlier examples), but "Smoke Break" on the previous album, and the four songs on this one, represent a definite development in both depth and emphasis
GHOSTS ON THE STEREO
Sadly one of the writers, Andrew Dorff, passed away shortly before Christmas, 2016, at the early age of 40, and this remarkable song must serve as one of his memorials.
I have seen some criticism that Carrie, a leading Mainstream singer, may have chosen this song as a "nod" to evoke a nominal allegiance to traditional singers whose work runs counter to her own - but that criticism strikes me as missing the whole point, in two important senses. One is that Carrie, although a contemporary singer, who draws on a mix of influences (something which, if we're honest, we should admit has happened throughout the genre's history), she does show a persistent and marked loyalty to her place in the genre (something she would have had numerous opportunities to reject), and does take more trouble than many contemporary chart artists to include specific references to the genre's traditions in much of her own work. Hating on the Mainstream is often understandable (I share that emotion often enough myself!), but singling out Carrie as the symbolic target is far from identifying the worst offender. The second reason is contained in the song itself - the character is described as going through a separation, but finding solace in listening to recordings of past heroes. The point is that the party mood described is imaginary - it seems like a haunted house, with just one car in the drive. But the singer finds her company in identifying with the timeless mood of the songs she recalls. Far from being a "nod" to a set of names, connecting with the stream of emotion those singers represent is the whole point of the song. And we should not miss the significance of the guest artists brought in to supplement Carrie's more usual session players. Holly Williams is Hank's granddaughter, and Ben Haggard is Merle's son. Steel player Steve Hinson often worked with George Jones. These people didn't need to appear, and the fact that they did is consistent with my own experience - years ago, I was persuaded to look up Carrie's work by remarks made by women singers in Roots Country who admired her. The reality is that she often gets more respect from artists in that sector than from some of the more partisan critics. "Ghosts on the Stereo" is one that I find to be among the most memorable tracks on the album. I like the concept, find the music interesting with the slow build up, and the sequence of notes that keeps recurring through the changing background. And Carrie's vocal conveys the mood well, knowing when to draw out the emotion, and when to emphasize the sense of recovery, showing enough power singing, without going over the top, in a song that might be spoilt by too forceful a delivery,
LOW
A standout track, with some of the best lyrics, and one of the best vocal performances of Carrie's career - this is a singing style that I would hope Carrie will continue to develop. Coming after the last song, this track clearly reflects the influence of Hank Williams' landmark album "Moanin' The Blues", both in the general singing style, and in the lyrical references to the whippoorwill and to lonesome, which recall the track, "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry", often considered his lyrical masterpiece. However, I would also point to possible influence from Bill Mack's 1958 song "Blue", both in the drawn out vowel wail, and in the specific wording "so lonesome for you". Williams' album (which has influenced generations of Country singers, especially in the more Roots-leaning sectors) came out in 1952, but was really a collection of singles dating from 1947 onwards - so in drawing on these two influences, Carrie is probably reaching back 60 to 70 years in the genre's history. But nothing stands still, and this is not just a derivative track - the strong percussion that breaks in, and the electric guitar work of Danny Rader and Rob McNelley add notable modern progression to the arrangement. Since the album came out, Carrie has revealed that she suffered three miscarriages in the years since her last album. There is a prevailing sadness in several songs on this album, but some of those seem to involve broken relationships, or other issues affecting people in general - "Low", though, strikes me as one of the most personal, in which Carrie may have focused particularly on her own feelings. The line "Everything that was right is wrong, ever since baby you've been gone" seems especially poignant, in light of what has since been revealed, and may go beyond the more superficial interpretation of a departed lover. And it is interesting that Hillary Lindsey plays acoustic guitar on this song. She has sung on every one of Carrie's albums, but just playing seems new - it is tempting to interpret this as a friend, who was with her in the writing session, accompanying her while she tracked her vocals, to support her on what may have been a difficult song for her to sing.
BACKSLIDING
In my opinion, this song could be a strong launchpad for a thrust into the UK General Music market. It demonstrates the advantages to Carrie of taking control of her own production, since it enables her to use a multi-layered arrangement to create a song that seems to transcend genre, in a way that ties together varied modern elements, without sacrificing an underlying Country feel. Dan Dugmore's pedal steel glides through the song, giving it a haunting, timeless quality. And there is an interesting lyrical point, that I think reinforces the sense of the song bridging a transition through time for Carrie herself. She uses a line which is almost a doublet for a line in the very first Country song she recorded after "American Idol" - Gretchen Peters' "Independence Day". The line in the older song (on which Gretchen herself played strings for Carrie's recording) was "Word gets around in a small, small town", and the line Carrie uses here is "word gets around in such a small town". That close resemblance seems unlikely to be accidental, and suggests to me that Carrie might be using it to emphasize that this album too is a new turning point in her career. Her vocal line in the verses comes across as particularly clear and expressive, not swamped by the complex, but relatively light, musical production. It is combined with choruses that bring in an element of her signature power vocal, and allow her to express the sense of desperation and inevitability in the repetition of the word "Backsliding". The background vocals (where Carrie joins her co-writers Hillary and David, in tracking her own voice) are an interesting element, which adds mood to the song, and Bryan Sutton's melodic riff gives it a perfect finish.
SOUTHBOUND
While the more memorable songs on this album lean towards sadness and retrospection, this track breaks that mood with a nod towards the prevailing Mainstream liking for party songs. That may increase its appeal to radio, and to listeners seeking a lighter, upbeat song to balance the more serious tracks. Those considerations may justify its inclusion, but for me, this is a disappointing song, which seems an ill fit for the mixture of progressive innovation and deep genre references that characterize the album as a whole. It is Carrie's second venture into "getaway" songs, but in my opinion, her earlier "One Way Ticket" showed a greater individuality, having more of the feel of a parody, and a touch of defiance in telling the boss to "stick it". By contrast, I feel that "Southbound" seems too accepting of "bro country" conventions of parties, boys catching the eye of pretty girls, tan lines and outdoor dancing. The music seems to include a slight Louisiana Cajun influence, but that strikes me as virtually the only concession to variation, in a rather obvious pitch to an arguably over-used Mainstream sub-genre. Carrie has always enjoyed some fun songs - but her singles have usually striven to add depth and originality to the general run of radio hits. This, I feel, would risk that reputation, and it's an album track I'd be inclined to skip.
THAT SONG WE USED TO MAKE LOVE TO
This is one of the most experimental songs on the album, and indeed, of Carrie's career so far. Some might criticize it for going too far "off genre", but I find that criticism misplaced, and would judge the song a success. Hilary Lindsey's co-writer here is Jason Evigan, a Californian writer and artist/producer, who has worked widely in innovative Pop. His involvement, and the use of electronic programming give this song a definite General Music feel in its experimentation. But, while it may be a reasonable criticism that this trend is increasingly watering down the character of Mainstream Country, especially when simply copying other musical forms, Carrie seems to have planned to take care here to have woven this innovation into Country. Her vocal retains a strong Country tone (ironically, perhaps, more noticeable here than in some of her more soaring "Pop Country" chorus-driven songs). And she relies heavily on her familiar cohort of Country session players, with Dan Dugmore, Danny Rader and Ilya Toshinskiy all playing variations on the steel guitar. The resophonic tone more than holds its own amongst the electronic instruments, and this combination strikes me as closer to some of the Progressive music being played in Alternative Country circles than to the off-genre music of some of the contemporary male Mainstream singers. I get a somewhat similar impression here to the one I gained several years ago, when Carrie collaborated with Swedish Pop producers, on "Quitter" - namely, that she will try new approaches, but is confident enough to use them to enlarge a genre that she's at home in, rather than attempt to leave it. The complex vocal on this song is all Carrie, tracking her own voice - again, a confident move. And another point that I find striking is that she's prepared to use quite erotic lyrical lines, "When you laid my body down, and then got drunk on me like wine"; "baby go on, let it take my breath" - making this probably her most passionate song since she covered Maria McKee's "Show Me Heaven" as a teenager. All told, this is a bold experiment, by an artist not prepared to always accept limitations.
DRINKING ALONE
Another experimental song, with synthesized programming, and a variety of vocal effects tracked into the mix by Carrie herself. This time, she relies on Danny Rader's dobro to add some acoustic twang, but that element is generally less evident here than in some of the other songs. Perhaps because the theme suggests a classic Country "tear in my beer" motif, I would have preferred more emphasis on the twang (but, presumably, that would miss the point that Carrie wanted to ring the changes with something more unexpected). As it is, her vocal tone in the main chorus line is one of the most Country aspects of the song - and this is one of the few occasions where I prefer her chorus delivery (which, in other songs, can sometimes prove too overwhelming for my taste). Here, her verse narration, which is often the most interesting part of her songs, strikes me as rather rushed in parts, where I would have preferred a more lingering, reflective delivery. Although I don't find this song to be the most successful of the album's experiments, I admire the uncompromising tone of some of the lyrics, such as "Tonight all I need is a stranger, lips with a whiskey chaser, and a corner booth kiss to make me forget that he's gone" - which shows a willingness to defy the more one dimensional "girl next door" image that some might want to persist in applying to a mature and varied artist.
THE BULLET
A much needed song, and one that I find stronger and more effective than the album's somewhat similarly themed and topical song, "Love Wins". "The Bullet", too, may fall rather short of being a perfect track - mainly, in my opinion, because the production tends to become rather forced and overly dramatic as the song develops, blurring some of the sense of emptiness that is at the heart of the lyric - but it is, nevertheless, one of the most significant statements by a leading Mainstream artist, and a topic which would shame the genre if it was kept suppressed as something too controversial to be broached. I've seen criticism that the song ducks placing any blame - but I disagree. It says plainly "You can blame it on hate, or blame it on guns" - and those are the very things that the root of the issue can be blamed on, rather than taking refuge in secondary excuses about loners, misfits, social degeneration, patchy background checks, or failure to arm more responsible civilians. I admire Carrie for tackling the topic - and it both strengthens the song's impact, and seems very much in line with her personality, that the lyric focuses on the pain and ongoing effects of premature loss on the families and survivors. The recording seems most effective in its mainly acoustic opening passages, where Carrie's vocal delivery is at its simplest and most sensitive. This style returns at various points, including the very effective closing chorus. But, in general, as the song progresses, the production becomes more complex, and the vocal (where Carrie is supported by Hillary, although neither was a writer here) becomes more forceful, and the delivery rather more hasty. This strikes me as the style Carrie often prefers, when dealing with emotional topics. It can be effective, in stressing a sense of desperation and anguish - but the downside can also be that it puts the singer rather more into a staged role, a little removed from personal immersion in the feelings expressed in those parts of the song. Carrie has said that she would find this song difficult to perform live - and if this more detached, role playing style is the one that helps her deal with more heart-rending topics, then we must accept that that may be the price of including such significant themes on her albums. This may not become a single, but I consider it one of the corner stones of the album.
SPINNING BOTTLES
Drinking references have played have an increasing part in Carrie's songs, on both "Storyteller" and "Cry Pretty", and this album, in particular, shows how they can be used, in the stronger songs, to reflect a range of themes, including desperation, recovery and abuse. This is one of the starker, and in my view, most effective, songs, which focuses on the way alcohol addiction can destroy a relationship. The song is skilfully constructed, to show first the apparent harmlessness of the over-indulgence, by comparing it to a children's game with empty bottles, and moving on to the anguish of the wife, waiting at home, not knowing when, or if, the addict will return - then considering the addict's own perspective, wanting to quit, but knowing he won't, and that it will finally lead to separation, before collapsing in a lonely hotel room. The track begins with a sparse piano arrangement, and later two keyboard parts (played by Dave Cohen and David Garcia) intertwine, being joined by melodic lines from 'cello (Austin Hoke), and pedal steel (Dan Dugmore). This amounts to one of the more contained musical arrangements on the album, but the interaction between the instruments is more complex than it might at first appear, and its relative lack of additional effects brings out the disparity between apparent normality, and the mounting despair of the lyric. It enables Carrie to concentrate on a more intimate, emotional, vocal delivery, which I think proves to be one of the most expressive of her career. I've been hoping that she'd explore song constructions and vocal deliveries more along these lines, as her career matures, and I hope this development continues.
LOVE WINS
This song has attracted considerable attention, much of it focusing on whether it can be seen as a Gay anthem (for which it's both been applauded as a relatively bold step in the context of her career limitations, and also criticized for not going far enough). But that entire area of interpretation requires the listener to relate the song to an external back story - something which doesn't actually appear in the song itself. I think it's worth emphasizing that the two actual issues that are highlighted are the effects of a shooting, and the political divisions that are so apparent in society today (and not just in the USA). As these are specifically mentioned, they deserve to be considered as issues that Carrie considered important in her choice and development of this song (especially as it is the second album track to focus on shooting). Beyond that, the song is a general appeal for love - something that any listener can apply, regardless of context. That generality can be a strength - we need that uplifting message, and it certainly deserves support. But, sadly, I do feel that the wish to make the song as general as possible has led Carrie into its relative weakness. The main problem for me does not lie in what it may fail to say (I understand her wish not to see the song lost in bickering and controversy) - but rather in what I see as its relative failure to live up to the overall feel and spirit of this innovative album. It involves virtually the same musicians as appear in "Kingdom" (which I regard as a much more exceptional and successful track), and they provide some pleasing touches in the musical backing - but the overall production here seems less innovative and more wary of challenging listeners' expectations. And, for me, that becomes even more apparent in the vocal style that Carrie mainly adopts, after the opening stanzas. I'm not questioning that she is, indeed, an exceptionally gifted singer, nor that a great many listeners do relate to this style. But the fact that this seems mainly a reprise of a style that she's used many times before, with an emphasis on power singing, hastened delivery, and considerable lyrical repetition, makes it appear something of a backward-looking approach and a rather problematic fit for much of the rest of the album. That does make this a rather disappointing song for me - something I regret in view of its potential and its positive message.
END UP WITH YOU
Another of Carrie's interesting use of cross genre influences, this song is one that might fit well into today's Mainstream radio chart. The mix of musical backgrounds is a particularly striking feature here. Of Hillary Lindsey's co-writers, Brett McLaughlin (who also records as Leland) is generally known for his Pop work (though he has also worked in Country with Kelsie Ballerini) - while Will Weatherley has, for example, also worked on Dan Tyminski's innovative album "Southern Gothic", both as writer and electronic programmer, as he is here. The music also reflects this innovative mix, with a leading role given to Rob McNelley, who has won Guitarist of the Year at the ACM, and performs with Bob Seger's Silver Bullet Band, as well as being a leading session player in progressive Country Rock. Here, he shares the rhythm role with Nir Z, an Israeli drummer with a distinguished career in General Music, working for example with Genesis, and John Mayer. (Carrie's own interest in percussion is also seen here, as she adds her own support to the mix). There will, inevitably, be those who regret the tendency to blur the Mainstream's musical identity in stylistic mixing - but this also occurs in many of the Roots fields, where it usually seems more acceptable. The key point is often not the fact that it occurs, but more the way in which it is done. In this example, I think Carrie has taken steps to handle the experimentation along lines sympathetic to current trends, but also in a way that evokes interest in the forms the innovation takes. For those listeners who prefer a soaring, pure voice led delivery, the staccato, singalong lyrical couplets of this song may not be among their favourite Carrie styles, but it is unrealistic to expect an artist to become stereotyped to a particular style, and I think this could stand out favourably among many of the contemporary radio offerings.
KINGDOM
Leaving aside the bonus track (which, for all its merits, has no production or thematic connection to the album as a whole), "Kingdom" is effectively the album's closing track - a placing that Carrie traditionally reserves for a song that has a special meaning for her, and which has often been different, in style and theme, from the rest of her albums. This time, the personal meaning is certainly there - but rather than being an outlier, I see it this time as a culmination of the production innovation and stylistic growth that Carrie and David Garcia have been experimenting with on this album. And in that, I would rate it as a success, and one of the best songs on the album. I love the way the production develops through this song. It could be described as an increasing build up in sound and power - but that would also oversimplify its complexity, for there are also a variety of sections, where different instrumental and vocal textures predominate - and that is what holds the interest. Although they are very different songs, "Good Girl" is the earlier one that most reminds me of the complexity and surprises in the music that can make a song exceptional. In "Kingdom", I love the acoustic beginning, led by Ilya Toshinskyi and Dan Dugmore, with special touches like the pedal steel echoing Carrie's opening hum. I like the part where Chris McHugh's drums dominate. The speciality string playing of Kris Wilkinson (viola) and Carole Rabinowitz (cello) - two ladies who, between them, have played with so many of the great names of the contemporary scene, in Roots music and well beyond - is effective here. And Carrie's multiple tracking of her own voice in the latter part of the song was a bold additional element that worked well, in my opinion. We know that Carrie loves power vocals and strong production - and I have found this approach overwhelming in some of her earlier work (her Greatest Hits album, where the songs included lacked the counter-balance of the more varied textures of their original albums was a case in point). The power elements occur in "Kingdom" - but here, they seem more in context, with the layered production itself supplying the variety of interest, and I prefer this approach to some of her more "concert stage" vocals. Much of the song is built around Carrie's own life, with domestic details, due weight given to her personal faith, and a willingness to acknowledge that life can pose personal challenges, even for the glamorous and most successful. But, at the same time, God, Home and Family are classic Country themes, and the stanza about hard times seems aimed at people generally, and this can be a relatable song for many in her audience. I get the impression that much of what Carrie wanted to say and do with this album finds its conclusion in this song.
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Why you’ll never know who hacked Laremy Tunsil
His NFL stock was sabotaged on draft night, yet no one — not Ole Miss, the Miami Dolphins, or Tunsil himself — stands to benefit from IDing who did it.
This is as close as Laremy Tunsil will likely ever come to naming the person who hacked him: 3 minutes and 27 seconds of the football player navigating a personal hell in real time. No one seems to be in control of the moment, especially Tunsil. He’s visibly nervous and repeats himself. He also contradicts his own account of events while answering questions on the matter for the first and last time.
Finally, a publicist hired by Tunsil’s superstar agent Jimmy Sexton clambers to shut it down. As overproduced as the NFL draft’s “moments” tend to read, this is a raw, real disaster unfolding in media res:
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Even with so many people there for him, Tunsil is alone and confused. Ole Miss head coach Hugh Freeze is in Chicago. So is Tunsil’s mother. So is Sexton, the agent Tunsil and Freeze share. So are multiple employees of Sexton and Ole Miss and the Miami Dolphins, who just drafted Tunsil after he fell to the 13th spot.
There are so many people present who are vested in Tunsil, yet he’s left alone to answer questions he’s never fielded — for three years at Ole Miss he’d been regularly held back from group interviews like these. Days and weeks later he’ll tell some Ole Miss teammates he doesn’t even remember what he said, that he doesn’t remember sitting at that table at all. But he was there, and he gave up the ghost:
REPORTER: “Was there an exchange of money between you and your coach as your Instagram photos ...?
TUNSIL: “Nah, I wouldn’t say all that. I wouldn’t say that.”
REPORTER: “So ... not only did someone hack your accounts but they doctored those messages, you’re saying?
TUNSIL: “Exactly.”
REPORTER: “You’re saying those messages were not ...”
TUNSIL: “Hold on, you’re talking about the messages from the old ... no, no, those are true. Like I said, I made a mistake, of that happening ... ”
REPORTER: “So was there an exchange between you and your coach? Of Money?”
TUNSIL: “I would have to say yeah.”
His admission here sets in motion a new, unprecedented chapter of NCAA investigations into his college program. But the significance of this moment is not what Tunsil says. It’s that this is the exact moment Tunsil and his circle realize beyond doubt that someone is trying to destroy his future in real time.
Why, one year later, does the world not know who tried to sabotage Laremy Tunsil on draft night?
There is a standing theory as to how the hack occurred, its details confirmed by multiple independent sources connected to Tunsil’s inner circle and the Ole Miss football program.
All tell the same story: At some point between the start of the 2015 Ole Miss football season and the end of October, a former associate of Tunsil’s provided him a new Apple device. This individual offered to transfer Tunsil’s account information during setup of the new device. Tunsil agreed, providing login information for his iCloud account.
That person’s relation to Tunsil is often referred to as a “business manager” or “advisor,” someone who had been in contact with Tunsil and some of his teammates for around one year.
Tunsil took items such as the Apple device from this person over a period of time in exchange for a promise of a future financial agreement once Tunsil turned pro, specifics of which are unknown. Tunsil would sit out seven games during the Rebels’ 2015 campaign in connection to receiving free use of a rental and loaner cars as well as a free airline ticket. As the draft neared, Tunsil’s circle began to change — he signed with Sexton shortly after Christmas — and the would-be business manager was pushed out.
Simultaneously, Tunsil’s personal life exploded into the NCAA’s investigation. Tunsil and his stepfather, Lindsey Miller, both filed domestic violence charges against one another in 2015 after a physical altercation in which Tunsil claimed he was defending his mother, Desiree Polingo, from Miller. Both sides would drop the charges, but not before Miller would file a suit against Tunsil for “intentional infliction of emotional distress.”
Those close to Tunsil and Ole Miss who spoke to SB Nation believe the timing of the two hacked social media accounts was intentional and specific.
The bong video, shot two years prior at a campus frat house, surfaced right before first-round selections began. It was an attempt to sabotage Tunsil’s projection as a top-three pick. Two other tackles were drafted ahead of Tunsil, who dropped to No. 13. The 21-year-old lost an estimated $10 to $12 million in under an hour.
The Dolphins claimed they were made aware of the bong video’s existence prior to the draft.
“We had some information. But obviously once [the hack] happened, we called some people we know to check and just triple check and make sure. And obviously before you take anyone when a guy falls like that, we went back and we dug into the research again and just made sure,” Miami general manager Chris Grier told reporters that night.
The screencapped text messages were then released just as Tunsil’s televised green room nightmare ended, forcing him to answer questions about the NCAA with no warning.
Moments prior to his press conference Tunsil was informed by ESPN Radio live on the air that his Instagram was hacked. The @kingtunsil account at that point featured screenshots of text messages between Tunsil and University of Mississippi assistant athletic director John Miller in which Tunsil, then a student-athlete, asked Miller, a university employee, for money to pay his bills.
Tunsil told ESPN Radio he didn’t know anything about what had been published on his Instagram and that he didn’t know who could’ve accessed his Instagram or his Snapchat, where a video of him smoking marijuana through a gas mask bong was published before the draft began that evening. Potentially devastating evidence against his college had just been released on his own social media account, he was told.
The validity of the Miller texts allowed for a new opening in the NCAA’s investigation. Its enforcement team then had a fresh window to build a stronger case against the Rebel football program and Freeze.
It’s still unclear if the “business manager” actually blackmailed or extorted Tunsil, or simply released the video and photos out of spite. To date no one at the University of Mississippi, Tunsil’s camp, or the Dolphins have officially consulted with outside authorities regarding the hack.
Multiple sources in Mississippi law enforcement and the FBI confirmed to SB Nation that if the draft-night hack was part of an extortion or blackmail attempt against Tunsil, a determination could be made quickly.
“Given the probability that he most likely knew the person or people who had access to his accounts, an investigation could come together fast if [Tunsil] was cooperative,” one law enforcement source said.
But the FBI was never contacted by Tunsil or Ole Miss regarding the hack. Whether the hack was part of an actual extortion scheme or simply a form of harassment can’t be determined, because no one involved will comment further: Tunsil’s representation, the University of Mississippi, and the Miami Dolphins have all declined to comment on the current state of an inquiry into the draft-night hack.
There is a good reason: Because everyone just wants this to go away. And because of that, the person who did it will almost certainly never be caught.
Kamil Krzaczynski-USA TODAY Sports
Why would the Miami Dolphins want to pursue the hacker? Neither the Dolphins nor the NFL stand to gain anything by pursuing a crooked financial advisor preying on college athletes. None of Tunsil’s alleged or admitted transgressions occurred while he was a professional athlete. As a rookie Tunsil acquitted himself well at guard, occasionally transitioning to his eventual position at left tackle, where he allowed only one sack all season. Ergo, the Dolphins just want the troubled past life of their investment to fade as quickly as possible.
The NCAA and Ole Miss are the two organizations ostensibly tied to the well-being and safety of Laremy Tunsil, college athlete. The NCAA and its member institutions tout governance and policy designed to protect the well-being of student-athletes ... except that the two are currently engaged in an active process of allegations and appeals to alleged bylaw violations of that policy. Tunsil is a pawn stuck in the middle.
Had Tunsil changed his mind following the draft and decided to speak up, to say that he’d been blackmailed or extorted or had taken money in any way from a person who was now threatening to affect his future livelihood, he would’ve admitted to receiving illegal benefits and his eligibility — the sole piece of equity a college athlete has in their potential pro future — would’ve been voided. Tunsil didn’t need to protect his eligibility anymore and so wasn’t under any obligation to answer to the NCAA.
The failing of college athletics is that once a player screws up, or even thinks they’ve screwed up, the entire apparatus of eligibility is designed to punish the potentially valuable student-athlete who was preyed upon and not the predator.
“Right now it’s like we’re teaching sex education to teenagers by only preaching abstinence,” an associate AD for a rival SEC program said. “That’s not going to work a majority of the time. We’re telling them don’t do this, and then when they do it a little bit or just once, all we can do is punish them, or punish ourselves [as a program]. We can’t work in conjunction with the NCAA to expel or try to bring these people who target college athletes to light because we don’t have the tools. We don’t have the tools because we aren’t motivated to create them.”
In February the NCAA delivered an amended notice of allegations against Ole Miss that include multiple Level 1 charges, among them lack of institutional control. In the wake of Tunsil’s hack, Ole Miss fired assistant AD Barney Farrar, whom Miller names as the person Tunsil should contact for money.
SB Nation can confirm that Tunsil has denied requests by the NCAA’s enforcement staff to speak on any matter. Through a spokesperson the NCAA denied comment because the case against Ole Miss is still ongoing, but provided a statement:
“Generally speaking, the NCAA enforcement staff is always mindful of the impact an investigation has on student-athletes and works with its members to protect student-athlete privacy throughout the process,” said vice president of enforcement Jon Duncan.
Ole Miss really, really doesn’t want the hacker caught. In fact, Ole Miss is best served if the hacker is never identified. The confirmation of the existence of a “business advisor” to a 21-year-old college football player can in no way benefit that athlete’s university. And the last thing Ole Miss wants is to exacerbate a four-year process that has already cost the Rebels self-imposed sanctions in recruiting and bowl eligibility, and an immeasurable amount of negative publicity in recruiting.
It’s likely then Tunsil himself has been urged to simply move on and not pursue legal action. As of this writing, Tunsil’s camp will not comment publicly on the matter, which makes sense: Doing so would endanger his former school and the head coach he shares an agent with.
“Laremy knows exactly who was behind this. We all do,” a source at Ole Miss told SB Nation. “But if he makes a public accusation, is there a retaliation? Are there more text messages released? That would only hurt us because of the NCAA, and he knows that.
“Laremy has been told to move on, that it doesn’t matter. Which really sucks for the kid because he made enough of a mistake to let one person hold it over him and almost ruin his career. So it does matter. But no one gains anything if this person is ever found and punished, not even Laremy.”
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PUTTIN’ ON THE RITZ
No fame is more fleeting than the showbiz kind. Some entertainers are just too much in and of a particular time. In the 1920s Harry Richman was a big star, billed as the Greatest Entertainer In America. He could sing and play piano, dance and act a little; he ran a hugely successful nightclub, was the toast of Broadway and, very briefly, a star in Hollywood; he wrote or introduced several songs that are still sung. But most of all he just personified the Roaring Twenties. He was the sleek, rakish, vaguely smarmy bon vivant in top hat and tails who was enjoying the decade's non-stop party as much as you were. It's been said that he was to the 1920s what the Rat Pack were to their era. Harry's career peaked just as the party crashed to a halt at the end of the decade, and he faded out in the 1930s. If his name comes up at all today, it's probably less often as an entertainer than as a footnote in aviation history.
He was born Harry Reichman in Cincinnati in 1895. His dad, a Russian Jewish immigrant, started out peddling eyeglasses door to door, carrying all his equipment on his back. He worked his way up to a prosperous wholesale business and real estate empire, and developed a taste for the high life. It killed him by the time Harry was an adolescent. In his thoroughly entertaining (sometimes suspiciously so) 1966 autobiography A Hell of a Life, Harry paints himself as a fecklessly scheming kid who grew up quick. At nine, he writes, he was a weekend ticket taker at an amusement park, shortchanging every customer he could because he was saving up to marry his childhood sweetheart. One night he showed off his ill-gotten riches by taking the girl out on the town. They stayed out too late to go home, so Harry got them a hotel room. When the cops burst through the door in the wee hours they found the kids sleeping fully clothed on separate beds. A doctor confirmed that the girl's honor was intact. Her dad put the kibosh to their romance anyway.
Harry's mother bought him piano lessons, dreaming he'd be a concert pianist, but like most kids at the time he was more interested in ragtime and jazz. He left home at around fourteen and headed to Indianapolis. There he and a kid who played fiddle went door to door in the kind of neighborhoods where an upright in the parlor wasn't uncommon. They'd bang out a few popular tunes for spare change. As Remington & Reichman they were soon touring the very small-time Webster circuit of vaudeville theaters in the Dakotas and Canada, known to vaudevillians as the Death Trail. Harry kept working his way around the west, singing at the piano in saloons and whorehouses, working as a singing waiter in restaurants, as part of a "Hawaiian" hula act in a circus sideshow. At the 1915 Panama-Pacific International Exhibition in San Francisco he was in a musical act that opened for Harry Houdini, fifteen shows a day. Playing in Los Angeles clubs favored by the movie crowd he got to be pals with Charlie Chaplin and Al Jolson, whom he idolized. Jolson got him a shot at Ziegfeld's Midnight Frolic, the late-night club revue that gave Eddie Cantor his big break. Harry raced to New York, but flopped and was canned after only one night. He was so despondent he ran off and joined the Navy.
He arrived back in New York in 1920, just when Prohibition did too. Now he and the city were ready for each other. On vaudeville stages he found work as an accompanist for headliners like the singer Nora Bayes and the beautiful twin Dolly Sisters, and for a while was Mae West's on-stage pianist and straight man. He was reluctant to speak lines at first because he had a lisp that he could hide more easily when singing. West convinced him it was a distinguishing feature. He soon got top billing on his own on the Keith-Albee circuit. He also played at ritzy speakeasies like the Beaux Arts, where, he claims, Prohibition's hostess with the mostest Texas Guinan stole her signature line "Give the little girls a big hand" from him.
Nils T. Granlund, known as NTG, was both a radio pioneer and the publicist for Marcus Loew's movie theater empire. He hired Harry to headline live radio shows from Loew's State Theatre, the movie palace in Times Square. Harry plugged new songs on air, like Billy Rose's "Does the Chewing Gum Lose Its Flavor on the Bedpost Overnight?" With NTG's help he opened his own Club Richman just behind Carnegie Hall. Harry made it one of the most opulent and exclusive nightclub/speakeasies in town. A lot of Broadway and movie stars became regulars, as of course did Mayor Jimmy Walker, and the Vanderbilts and Whitneys, and foreign royalty -- you saw everybody who was anybody there.
Or wanted to be somebody, like the chorus girl Lucille Le Seur. Accounts vary as to how Lucille got into the swank club. In one version, she convinced NTG, her sugar daddy at the time, to get her a spot in the club dancing the Charleston. NTG introduced her to Loew, who arranged a screen test at MGM, where she'd get her first tiny roles in 1925. Studio chief Louis B. Mayer decided her name sounded like Le Sewer, so the studio ran a publicity campaign in which the fans got to give her a new name: Joan Crawford. She never liked it.
For his part, Harry claimed that he discovered Crawford. He did have an eye for the beauties. He was one of the first to spot Jean Harlow, Sally Rand and Maureen O'Sullivan. Harry was an infamous ladies' man, bedding a long line of beauties from chorus girls to socialites to Harlow, maybe Rand, and Clara Bow. According to Harry, his office at the club had a secret door for sneaking them in and out while their husbands or dates drummed their fingers at their tables thinking they were just taking a long time powdering their noses. He says that the Hollywood Bowl couldn't hold all the women he had, and classes himself "a specialist in man's favorite sport."
Between the club and his other gigs Harry minted money and became the playboy nonpareil. He wore the finest bespoke suits and carried a gold cigarette case with his initials on it in diamonds. He commuted in a Rolls from Manhattan to his big house out on the water in Beechhurst, Queens, where he had a yacht and threw Gatsby-like parties for celebrities, beauties and millionaires. He learned to fly and kept a growing fleet of planes at nearby Flushing Airport. Harry worked hard, played hard, drank oceans of booze and smoked whole fields of tobacco. Everyone marveled at his stamina and joie de vivre even in that over-the-top decade.
In 1926, while still playing the host at his club, Harry got a featured role on Broadway in George White's Scandals, one of several knockoffs of the Ziegfeld Follies. After a boffo year it toured other cities, including Cincinnati, where, he notes ruefully, it tanked. In 1930 he headlined Lew Leslie's International Revue, where he introduced "On the Sunny Side of the Street." And in 1931 he made it, finally, into the Follies as well. He got his choice of songs to perform, including "Lullaby of Broadway." He was at the top of his career in those shows, the king of Broadway; his friend Eddie Cantor memorably said he wore Broadway like a boutonniere.
He didn't do so well in Hollywood. He starred, playing himself as "Harry Raymond," in the 1930 musical Puttin' on the Ritz, in which he introduced the song by his pal Irving Berlin. The movie did mediocre business then and is barely watchable now except for that number, Harry gliding around in front of an army of dancers with his top hat tilted over one eye. His recording of the song, which some consider the best, was a hit. (Among his other records are Berlin's "Blue Skies," his own "Muddy Waters" and a pretty wonderful Jolson-ish rendition of "Ain't She Sweet.") While in Hollywood to make the film he met Clara Bow. Teamed up at first for publicity purposes only, they became a hot item and got engaged. Then she suddenly married someone else. Hearing the news, he says, was the only time in his life that he fainted.
He'd make only two more feature films and one short. He sums them up this way: "All were forgettable. It became clear to me that whatever I had was best projected in person, either on the stage or in a night club." By the time he made the last film, released in 1938, he was well past his prime. When the Depression hit and then Prohibition ended, guys like Harry, icons of the Roaring Twenties, just didn't fit the new reality. To his credit, he didn't hang around like some other ghosts of the 1920s did. He left New York and settled in Miami, which was booming and lousy with new nightclubs where he could coast for a few years on his dazzling past. He went fishing with Hemingway and played with his airplanes.
His real fame in the 1930s came in fact as a flyer. In the mid-1930s he'd set altitude and speed records. Then in 1935 he and the pilot Dick Merrill made the world's first round-trip transatlantic flight in a single-engine plane. They filled the plane with tens of thousands of ping-pong balls as flotation devices should they land in the soup. Harry being Harry, after reaching Wales on the outward leg of the trip, they flew on to Paris to party all night with Maurice Chevalier before making the return flight. They landed upside-down in a Newfoundland bog, but they made it. It wasn't as big a deal as Lindbergh's one-way crossing in 1927, but Harry calls it the high point of his life.
Harry didn't make much news after that. He played some clubs through the 1940s, his looks and voice rough from all that carousing and smoking. He still had lots of friends in the show business who tried to engineer comebacks for him, but the public had long since forgotten him. By the time A Hell of a Life came out in 1966 he'd spent the millions he'd made in his heyday and was living alone, quietly and frugally, in Burbank, an old guy who'd gone full-tilt as long as he could, had a hell of a lot of memories and not too many regrets. He died in 1972.
by John Strasbaugh
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