Toto's "Africa": Haunting, Embarrassing, Quasi-Racist, Or Some Combination Of All Three?

Say it's 1982, you just bought Toto IV and you've put it on the turntable for the first time. There's "Rosanna," there's "Make Believe," some rockers, some ballads, some hits, some filler - in other words, nothing too unexpected. Finally you come to the end of the album, track number 10. There's this quiet drumbeat. Some bizarrely synthesized percussion. The verse begins:

I hear the drums echoing tonight
But she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation
She's coming in 12:30 flight
The moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide me towards salvation
I stopped an old man along the way
Hoping to find some old forgotten words or ancient melodies
He turned to me as if to say , "Hurry boy, it's waiting there for you"

What is this? Where's Toto? Where are we? Who's the old man? What's waiting there? What the hell is going on?

Suddenly there's a dramatic drum fill, and the Toto that we know and (slightly) love appears in its full splendor:

It's gonna take a lot to take me away from you
There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do
I bless the rains down in Africa
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had

See, you wouldn't have been crazy if you'd concluded up to this point that Toto was only capable of churning out some slick, generic pop-rock and nothing more. But you would have been wrong.

Who knew Toto had it in them? Maybe they didn't. Apparently in one UK survey, the line "I know that I must do what's right/Sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti" was voted the worst lyric of all time. I used to think it was "rises like a lepress." Either way, it's problematic.

But who cares about the ridiculous lyrics when you can savor the atmosphere? It's the little touches that impress me most, like the subtle instrumental shifts that make the last go-around of the chorus particularly powerful. Listen to how the guitars enter at 3:16, then climb even higher at 3:27. Or the soaring vocal ad-libbing around 3:32. What really does it to me every time are those little, extra-emphatic piano chords at 3:42. And then - all is quiet again. A man on the savannahs of Africa must conceal his passion, only to reveal it when the moment strikes.

I didn't think such an atmospheric song would have a video that matches the images in my head. Toto, why did I underestimate you so?

Jeff Porcaro said of the song, "... a white boy is trying to write a song on Africa, but since he's never been there, he can only tell what he's seen on TV or remembers in the past." This is hilarious, because what I picture when I hear this song is not really Africa, but some city-dwelling white guy's weird mental images of Africa. I can tell you exactly what this song reminds me of. It reminds of the displays of African wildlife I used to look at as a kid in the old Academy of Arts and Sciences in Golden Gate Park, with their cheap, fake backdrops and stiff tigers and zebras. And Boom! Toto was thinking almost the same thing.

Here we have David Paich in a rather urban-looking library, staring at a black librarian, with lots of masks and flaming torches surrounding him. So they just found some black girl to play the librarian? How much do you want to bet she was just some black girl, not African or anything, but probably just from Baltimore, and they said, "Hey, do you want to be in this video about Africa?"

Paich keeps flipping through books. What is he looking for? He's looking for a book called Africa. But little does he know, the book called Africa is sitting under the feet of Toto! At any rate, when he finally finds the book, a savage warrior throws a spear into the library, and the black librarian's glasses fall shattered to the floor as the building burns down in flames. You see, by trying to search for Africa, the White Man has been destroying Africa! Yes, Toto. Yes.

Careless Whisper... Now in Prank Form!

I could watch this all day and never tire of it.

Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame Induction Ceremonies: The YouTube Clips Playing In My Dreams

If there's one thing in the world I love, it's Arrowhead's Puffed Wheat Cereal. But another thing I really love is hearing my favorite musicians talk about some of my other favorite musicians.

I once had the good fortune to catch the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony on VH1 back in 1999. It was delightful to hear Ray Charles induct Billy Joel, Neil Young induct Paul McCartney, and Bono induct Bruce Springsteen. It was like my very own musical subconscious sloshing around and stirring itself into new combinations. "Hey, there's that guy...talking about that guy!" "I didn't realize that guy knew that guy." "Wow, so that guy's a fan of that guy." I thought to myself, "Man, I could watch these all day."

And now I can, thanks to The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum's official YouTube channel! I just don't think I can ever get my fill of the inescapably positive vibe these speeches exude. "Wasn't that band awesome?" "No, your band was awesome." "No, no, your band was awesome." "No, no, no, really, your band was awesome." So many of these bands were so awesome. And a couple of these speeches, like Pete Townsend's, border on roast territory.

While I can't post every worthwhile clip, and I recommend simply surfing around here, below are some particular favorites:

Mick Jagger inducts The Beatles:



Pete Townsend inducts The Rolling Stones:



Neil Young inducts Paul McCartney:



Tom Petty and Jeff Lynne inducts George Harrison:



Olivia and Dhani Harrison acceptance speech:



Beach Boys acceptance speech:



Brian Wilson inducts the Bee Gees:



Moby inducts Steely Dan:



Steely Dan's acceptance speech:



Elton John inducts Elvis Costello:



The Edge inducts The Clash:



The Clash's acceptance speech



Jann Wenner accepts on behalf of the Sex Pistols:



Metallica inducts Black Sabbath:



Flea inducts Metallica:

ELO + Olivia Newton-John + Roller Skates = The Most 70s Thing Ever?

Gnarls Barkley - "Crazy"

For a single that Rolling Stone chose as the #1 song of the decade, "Crazy" doesn't seem particularly significant or profound. Which is fine by me, but I thought only I was allowed to like songs for that reason, not Rolling Stone. Nevertheless, as someone once said about Shakespeare, it's really very good in spite of the people who like it.

First of all, the band name is great. Cee-Lo and Danger Mouse, the two members of Gnarls Barkley, were also kicking around "Prince Gnarls" and "Bob Gnarley," either of which could have worked just as well. Cee-Lo has described their music as "electric industrial Euro soul." Count me in.

As I think is the case with many of my other favorite songs of the 00s, Gnarls Barkley didn't appear to be taking their enterprise very seriously, but that sort of attitude is precisely what allowed them to surpass their own expectations. On the surface, "Crazy" is quite silly and nonsensical. But the pull of the melody and Cee-Lo's soulful vocal delivery manage to make this little bit of goofing off resonate on a deeper level. Or am I crazy?

The Avalanches - "Frontier Psychiatrist"

Almost all music videos, since the dawn of time, have made at least some attempt to show the the actual musical artist featured in the video pretending to be performing the actual song that is being promoted by said video. Often these "performances" don't even follow the rules of logic. Where's Britney's microphone? If she's doing all that dancing, how come she doesn't sound out of breath?

But what if, in the case of the Avalanches, there's just one problem: there is no performer? What if your song is just a bunch of kitschy '50s soundbites strung together?

Never fear. The video for "Frontier Psychiatrist" is an endearingly literal interpretation of what is actually present on the recording. For every absurd sample, there is the corresponding image of a psychiatrist/ape/horse/parrot/Peruvian folk ensemble "performing" what is heard. The video reminds me of those creative writing or acting workshop exercises where people are given a random set of words and are supposed to slap together something cogent out of that randomness. The Avalanches probably created this song in their basement with no intention of ever passing it off as something that anybody would, or even could, perform live. But when it came time to make a video, I guess they figured, "Hey, what if there was an actual band that had to perform this song? What would it look like?" Ladies and gentlemen: it would look like this. You can even see the microphones!

The Beatles quit touring because they didn't think they would have been able to play Sgt. Pepper in concert. The Avalanches would have at least tried to put together a video. Imagine their take on "Good Morning, Good Morning." Given their experience with barnyard animals, I think they would have been able to come up with something appropriate.

Hey Come On, Did Charlie Watts Ever Direct A Movie? I Didn't Think So

I consider Marc Bolan, lead singer/songwriter/guitarist/mystical hippie sorcerer of the glam rock band T.Rex, the greatest "bad" lyricist of all time. Some quick examples:

On a mountain range
I'm Dr. Strange
For you
I've got stars in my beard
And I feel real weird
For you

Shady politician in my bed
Tying bolts of lightning to his head
Call me Rabbit Fighter, you know it's true
'Cause babe I'll rabbit fight all over you

I wouldn't have been too interested in a 1972 film about him, however, if I hadn't learned that said film had been directed by Ringo Starr. That's right, the man who could barely even write his own Beatles songs directed a feature film - in 1972. Suffice to say, Born To Boogie is the greatest movie ever directed by Ringo Starr. Let me ask you this: did a film by Alfred Hitchcock ever have:

A) Ringo Starr dressed up as a mouse?
B) A dwarf eating a driver side mirror?
C) Marc Bolan singing "Children of the Revolution" as a disembodied floating head in Elton John's piano?
D) Ringo Starr dressed as a circus clown?

That's what I thought. In reality, Born To Boogie is really just a concert movie with a couple of bizarre little bits on the side. But what bizarre little bits they are. I think if Marc Bolan was born to boogie, I was actually born to watch this YouTube clip.

Note: if you're not in the mood for a smoking live version of "Baby Strange," I recommend skipping to the 2:30 mark in the clip above.

Air - "Don't Be Light"

Air clearly put a lot of effort into 10,000 Hz Legend, their follow-up to Moon Safari, which is bad if you're Air, because you probably want your music to sound completely effortless. What were they supposed to do, make Moon Safari Part II? Not exactly. But "different" doesn't necessarily mean "better." So 10,000 Hz Legend is a hit-or-miss album from a great band - which means that if you're grading on the "curve of the 2000s," it's terrific. As John Bush puts it in his AMG review, "Air are still tremendously effective producers, and have actually expanded their palate with a surprising array of pop instrumentation" and "Fans and involved listeners are definitely rewarded with increased dividends after multiple listens." That's not how you talk about an album you really love. "Increased dividends"? What, are we trading stocks here?

There is one track, however, that to me is the epitome of pure, effortless Air, and that is "Don't Be Light." What does "Don't Be Light" have that the rest of the album does not? It has that hypnotic, relaxing quality to it. I can space out and relax to "Don't Be Light." I can't space out and relax to "Wonder Milky Bitch." The chord pattern is more than a little similar to "La Femme D'argent," but hey, you're allowed to rip yourself off now and then, are you not? Besides, surrounded as it is by decidedly "Un-Air-like" material, it's a soothing blast of the familiar. Like Moon Safari's immortal lead-off track, "Don't Be Light" makes me think of the sublime terror of the vast galaxy that we inhabit. And what does "Don't Be Light" mean anyway? How can I not be light? Maybe they're talking to a black hole, in which case the black hole would say "OK, I won't be light." Or maybe they mean, "Don't be thin, don't be skinny." Maybe it's the first Anti-Anorexia pop song.

It's certainly got a terrific video. Which I am not allowed to post here because embedding has been disabled. Thanks EMI. Instead I've posted an edited version from their hilariously named Everybody Hertz remix album. Unfortunately, nowhere to be found on YouTube is the actual 6:19 version that I know and love, which features, among other things, an odd soliloquy from Beck (!). You'll have to seek it out on your own, I'm afraid.

Peter, Bjorn and John - "Young Folks"

The best use of bongos in a pop song since The Beatles' "You're Going To Lose That Girl"? Joe Cocker's "Feelin' Alright"? Tommy James and the Shondells' "Crystal Blue Persuasion"? The best use of bongos in a long time, I can tell you that.

From top to bottom, everything about this song screams out "insignificance," which is why I like it. Victoria Bergsman sounds like she just woke up on the floor, rolled over a pile of heroin needles, and then promptly recorded her vocal track. Really that's just a result of her first language probably not being English. The non-native speaking issue could also explain grammatically incorrect turns of phrase such as "Usually when things has gone this far" and "Hours seems to disappear." But the "strung-out junkie" effect remains.

The animated video is perfectly in line with the song's whole G-rated aesthetic. Peter's thought bubble says "It's easy...just put your lips together!" Are they going to kiss? Victoria's thought bubble says "I'm not sure..." Peter's thought bubble says "Look - just watch what I do." He starts...whistling! How pre-teen. I love it when the video turns kaleidescopic at about the three minute mark. And who can forget the thought bubbles of the partygoers: "This is good!" "I like the drums..." "I like the bassline..." This is one serious party.

Ladytron - "Playgirl"

"Playgirl" seems to be one of those songs that everybody knows about, and yet, as far as I can tell, was never actually a hit anywhere. Personally I have to admit that I tried my best to turn it into one. As a college radio DJ in the summer of 2000, I was flipping through the "currents" section when I came across an EP by a band named Ladytron. Want to know how to get into Little Earl's good graces? Name your band after an early Roxy Music song (also, name your EP Commodore Rock; I have a fond place in my heart for my childhood Commodore 64 computer). Roxy Music are guitar-heavy band, however, and Ladytron are not in particular. Yet when I gave the song a listen, the homage seemed fitting, for like Roxy Music's best, "Playgirl" struck me as sleek, ironic, futuristic, deadpan, and almost suffocatingly, shamelessly catchy. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!" I proclaimed to myself, and proceeded to play the song on my show every chance I saw fit.

And yet, I still couldn't tell if Ladytron were morons or geniuses. Years (and many albums) later, I'm definitely inclined to think the latter, although the band's intentions still remain rather opaque. I don't honestly know that much about the members of Ladytron - and I think I like it that way! I've been led to believe that there are two guys and two girls; the girls sing and the guys write the lyrics (like ABBA?). On "Playgirl," the lead vocalist, Helen Marnie, sounds like she might not be able to go another five seconds without completely losing interest in the track. The lyrics border on joke territory without quite working their way up to that all-too-frequently-used "we don't really mean it" cop-out:

Playgirl, why are you sleeping in tomorrow's world, hey playgirl
Playgirl, why are you dancing when you could be alone, hey playgirl
Playgirl, why are you sleeping in tomorrow's world, hey playgirl
Playgirl, choking on cigarettes to get you along, hey playgirl

Hey playgirl, hey playgirl
Northern lights catch you coming down
Sleep your way out of your hometown

Ladytron's lyrics manage to be vaguely sexual without being explicit. The "playgirl" in question here seems more disappointed than fulfilled. I can relate. The song conjures up images in my head of European airport lounges and dingy metro cars and some sort of all-encompassing urban art school ennui. Some might find the whole presentation too campy, too tongue-in-cheek, too insincere. Personally, I don't know if a pop song could ever be "too campy" for my taste. I'm laying down a challenge, folks.

Now, I listened to "Playgirl" for years (and I mean years) without ever seeing the video. I didn't even think the band had enough budget for a video, let alone a video worth watching. Oh Ladytron, how I underestimated you. It turns out the video is everything I might have hoped for and more. Helen Marnie actually looks quite photogenic in this clip. She should try this haircut more often.

The Avalanches - "Since I Left You"

Now here is a perfect example of a band not trying very hard to make music of any particular significance and yet creating something I quite enjoy. The Avalanches are an Australian electronica duo consisting of Robbie Chater and Darren Seltmann. You might describe them as a more whimsical DJ Shadow. Around the fin de siecle, Chater and Seltmann essentially decided to goof around with samples, on their own, apparently just for the hell of it. According to Wikipedia:

To create the songs on the album, members Darren Seltmann and Robbie Chater spent countless hours sampling the chords from many records. Chater estimates the numbers of samples on the album to be over 3,500. After sampling and arranging, the pair would swap their tapes, listen to each other's ideas and expand on whatever struck their ear. Despite working separately, both Chater and Seltmann had nearly duplicate studio set-ups. Seltmann and Chater didn't keep track of what tracks were being sampled when creating the album, with Chater stating that they "were really unorganized and were just sampling on the fly as tracks progressed. We had no idea the record would get such a wide-scale release so we saw no need to keep track of what we were using — we were definitely guilty of harboring a 'No-one's going to listen to it anyway' sort of attitude."

Little did they know! Let this be a lessen to you, kids. Just fart around on your own, and you may make something I'd actually want to listen to someday.

While the entire Since I Left You album is very enjoyable, I think there are a couple of standout tracks that make me wonder whether or not the rest of the album could have been even better than it is. Despite this inconsistency, the album would probably make a Ten Best Albums of the '00s list. However, that is not a list I intend to make.

Now on to the title song itself. AMG's Andy Kellman writes, somewhat pretentiously:

Endless summers for many youths don't consist of beaches and surfboards. Instead, they're spent on blacktops and jungle gyms. More gritty and halfway between the curb and the hoop than anything celestial, the Avalanches remind you of a point in your life when you could blissfully hang upside down from monkey bars and just dangle. Like recklessly riding your BMX or skipping rope after downing a sugar-laced pitcher of lemonade, the un-mawkish Since I Left You thrives on making you feel youthful and mighty ... Some origins can be immediately placed, and those that can't trigger an impulse that you've heard it somewhere before. You're at least familiar with the tone as it relates to a long-lost feeling of childhood bliss -- whether it's staring at a clear blue sky from a fresh-cut lawn or the first time you heard "Rock the Bells."

The first time I heard "Rock The Bells," I thought, "How did LL Cool J ever become so popular?" But never mind. Kellman is on to something. I love the track's opening seconds (buried substantially in the video mix). The distant chatter of the unwashed masses. An acoustic guitar. A vaguely Brazilian voice shouting in the right channel. Enter flute, strings, vocals, the beat. "Get a drink, have a good time now, welcome to paradise-paradise-paradise-paradise." Paradise indeed. The song reminds me of an outdoor barbeque where all the various sounds would be competing simultaneously for your attention, if only you were bothering to pay attention. Somehow the Avalanches managed to mix the "doo-doo-doo" sample so that it sounds like it's being played from a stereo on the patio, only you're actually hearing it from underwater in the pool.

Ultimately, "Since I Left You" is not a proper song at all. And yet it seems to have verses, a chorus, and a bridge, and all the usual amenities, and then you stop and realize that ... it's just a bunch of samples! These guys are good.

Equally hypnotic is the video. Now, you and I (and the Avalanches) know that the song's main vocal hook ("Since I left you, I found a world so new") is probably just a random sample that they thought sounded interesting when they were playing around and that's it. Ah, but The Avalanches excel at giving new life to meaningless phrases taken out of context. The video treats the phrase as if if were full of great emotional import. They've taken a sentence that essentially means nothing, and have turned it into something silly, magical, and a little bit moving.

So think about what's going on here. Not only have The Avalanches created a genuine song out of bits of songs that were never ever intended to coexist together, they've also created a complex narrative story out of a song that was never actually intended to be released.

Musicians of today: think small.

Air - "Sexy Boy"

I'd like to think that Messieurs Dunckel and Godin's campy fascination with 1970s retro cheese is purely tongue-in-cheek, but my hunch is that on some level they actually dig this stuff. They don't think it's "ironic-cool," they just think it's cool.

Perhaps they are correct. But what Air doesn't know is that their genuine retro-naivete is part of what makes them so charming. They think they are being just a little bit funny, but in the eyes of this American, at least, they are very funny, in a very unintentional way.

Perhaps this video so perfectly matches my image of the song because the graphics are an extended riff on the album artwork for Moon Safari: the crude, discofied stars, the van-slash-spaceship, the blue and yellow watercoloresque geometrical shapes. The monkey, however, is nowhere to be found - in my copy, at least.

Pet Shop Boys - "West End Girls"

A couple of weeks ago I gave the Pet Shop Boys' Discography a spin, and I was reminded just what an excellent collection that is. I like to think that every generation in the UK has had its own wave of smart, catchy pop. Except for the current generation. I start to feel bad for English kids circa 1986 because they didn't have The Clash, The Jam, The Buzzcocks, Elvis Costello, XTC, Squeeze, etc. (1979) or David Bowie, Elton John, T. Rex, Roxy Music, etc. (1972), or Blur, Oasis, Pulp, Suede, etc. (1994), but then I realize that they had The Smiths, The Cure, New Order, The Jesus & Mary Chain, and The Pet Shop Boys, and I don't feel too bad for them.

Like their contemporaries, I think the Pet Shop Boys managed to perfectly capture their time and place, without even seeming to try too hard. I hear "Opportunities," "It's A Sin," or "Always On My Mind" and I am instantly transported to a late 80s urban clubscape. Although the Pet Shop Boys are very British, I am proud of my fellows Americans (for once) because unlike The Smiths or The Jam or Roxy Music, for some reason the Pet Shop Boys were extremely popular in the United States right from the start. "West End Girls" was a #1 hit here. "What Have I Done To Deserve This" peaked at #2, "It's A Sin" at #9, "Always On My Mind" at #4. Americans displayed some taste for once. All the Pet Shop Boys' biggest American hits were early on, though, and I think that's appropriate, because if you ask me the Discography collection loses steam near the end. While the Pet Shop Boys were always known for their irony and supposed "insincerity," they started laying it on pretty thick after a while. Their later material feels more like a formal writing exercise than a genuine expression of emotion. They started suffering from what you might call "Elvis Costello Syndrome." To me the last truly great single on Discography is "So Hard," which contains this lyrical gem: "I'm always hoping/You'd be faithful/But you're not I suppose/We've both given up smoking/Cause it's fatal/So whose matches are those?" Fey Eurodisco covers of "Where The Streets Have No Name," while enjoyable, can only take me so far. Their earlier singles still had some real menace and melancholy, before their style dived headlong into "nod and a wink" territory. I've never heard any Pet Shop Boys material not on Discography; perhaps someone could make the case that I should.

What I do know is that debut singles rarely come more perfect than "West End Girls" (for a better quality video that also runs the proper length, click here). If it sounds too good to be a debut hit single, that's because it is. Or rather, "West End Girls" was their first single, but not the version that we know and love. Here, for your listening pleasure, is the original version of "West End Girls," released a year earlier and sounding for all the world as though it was performed on a Casio keyboard:



Not bad, but I'm glad they gave it another go-round (Tennant doesn't really seem to maximize the chorus at this point, and what's with the James Brown samples?).

How do I love thee, "West End Girls"? Let me count the ways. The song reminds me of Ezra Pound's "In A Station Of The Metro": "The apparition of these faces in a crowd/Petals on a wet, black bough." Appropriately enough, according to Wikipedia, "The lyrics were inspired by T.S. Eliot's poem The Waste Land, particularly in the use of different narrative voices and arcane references." I like it!

A song that creates such singular visions in my head would not seem to be a likely candidate for a memorable music video. But I have been proven wrong. Here's what I always pictured in my head when I heard the song's beguiling introduction: random strangers walking down cold London streets. Here's what the video actually shows: random strangers walking down cold London streets! Train stations. Neon signs. Rapid cutting. Shots of the Thames. Give it to me. I don't think the Pet Shop Boys themselves necessarily needed to appear in the video, but they do, and they do so in style. One must admit that Neil Tennant is quite photogenic (Chris Lowe, on the other hand, is somehow translucent.). Tennant also does a terrific job of looking at the camera while singing the chorus and then turning his head away longingly for the final "West End Guuhhls..."

1985. London. Can you taste it?

YouTube Clips That Live Up To My Expectations

What a wonderful tool today's bored rock historian has at his disposal! When unlimited access to mp3s simply isn't cutting it, there's unlimited access to old video clips. And not just videos, but concert footage, fan-made films, even the occasional interview excerpt. A small minority of these clips are a waste of time. The overall majority are interesting, but nothing you'd want to watch more than once or twice. But then there are those certain clips that perfectly manage to capture everything you love about that song, or that band, or that song coming from that band at that particular time and place. These are what I would call "YouTube clips that live up to my expectations."

Although the combination of music and video has been popular for a long time, I've generally felt that music videos are a let-down. They tend not to match the more interesting images in my head. Unlike my fellow blogger Zrbo, I did not grow up with MTV. In most cases I have spent at least a decade or two becoming intimately familiar with the recording of a song while having no knowledge of its video. Perhaps part of my lack of enthusiasm for the art of video is simply based on my previous lack of access to it, i.e. "Well, I can't watch the video, but it probably sucks anyway so hopefully I'm not missing out on anything too good."

Well those days are over. Now that I've started watching many of the videos I may have missed, though, I have to say I don't think I was too far off in my judgment. But every once in a while, there are exceptions. A great band treats a video as simply another extension of their art, the way that they treat album covers, liner notes, and interviews. It becomes part of their image. Sometimes a band really manages to just nail it. I will see a clip and think, "This is everything I hoped it would be and more."

For example: R.E.M.'s "Radio Free Europe" (embedding is disabled so I have to link it; it's also mislabeled as "Driver 8" but ignore that). For me this video perfectly encapsulates what makes early R.E.M. so unique and distinctive. College. The South. Jangly things. Like Murmur, it's brooding and moody and yet so indecipherable it retains an odd, humorous touch. I can really imagine some kid up late at night in his dorm room in 1983 catching this clip on TV and thinking, "Who the hell are these guys?," and yet wanting to know the answer. "It's not quite mainstream rock, but it's not quite underground punk. It's not Toto, and it's not Minor Threat. What is it?" In other words, I think, my friends, that they nailed it.