A Perfectly Cromulent Blog

"For me, the 60s ended that day in 1978."

I realized tonight that I've never actually seen the movie Woodstock in its entirety. Being as how I have to get up with She Who Shall Not Be Named, that isn't going to change anytime soon (its on VH1 Classic right now and won't end until 2:30 AM), but I wanted to make some observations before hitting the sack.

1. Joan Baez looked absolutely terrified. I can't imagine what she was expecting, but I'm pretty sure the reception was better than any she would have received at the subsequent Woodstocks.

2. I was going to go into long-winded speculation about what happened to the Gibson SG Pete Townshend tossed into the audience at the end of the Who's set, but there's actually a site that tracks what happened to all his smashed guitars. I love the internet.

3. Sha Na Na? Really? They were definitely the best choreographed, if that counts for anything.

4. Joe Cocker is/was the shit. My favorite performance so far.

5. The whack job ranting about "the fascists seeding the clouds" aside, I don't know how well I would have functioned in that environment. I mean, I hate hippies. But I love mud, so maybe it would've evened out.

Okay, the joint-smoking montage is making me sleepy. Later. I'll try to catch the second half in another 40 years. Check back here in 2049.

I'm doing it wrong

The Wife and I are big fans of Pandora, even moreso now that I have the iPhone app, which was the crucial missing piece in my quest to see that Houston radio is never again audible in my car..

My station-fu could use some work, however. In theory, you create one by using a particular artist or song as a "seed," and the "Music Genome Project" selects songs you should, theoretically, enjoy just as much. This has generally worked out well, even if one of my stations plays 80% Ryan Adams/Whiskeytown and another - thanks to overly restrictive "thumbs down" action - has a playlist of about 20 songs total.

But no matter how hard I try to edit one of my stations - a tentative foray into the world of electronica (probably my first mistake) - I can't weed out the Christian rock. I'm sure this is a result of my having inadvertantly "thumbs upped" a song of that ilk in the station's formative days, with the result that songs exhorting me to "praise his holy name" and what not inevitably pop up every hour or so, though they're pretty easy to pick out amid the usual array of Aphex Twin and Kraftwerk. Not a huge deal, but annoying enough to make e consider nuking the station entirely.

Or sticking to the Ryan Adams one.

We got the funk

I had the distinct pleasure of attending the George Clinton/Parliament-Funkadelic show last Thursday with The Thing That Walks Like a Man. My experience with P-Funk is limited to old copies of Mothership Connection and Cosmic Slop, random iTunes tracks, and - like most people - copious sampling by the likes of Dr. Dre and Public Enemy.

And P.C.U., but let's not bring Jeremy Piven into this if we don't have to.

If my advancing years have taught me anything, it's that I need to catch bands like these whenever I have the chance. Clinton's pushing 70, and hasn't really led the kind of lifestyle that lends itself to "world's oldest man" designation, and I've missed out on way too many personal favorites that either broke up (Uncle Tupelo) or died (John Lee Hooker) after I'd taken a pass on a show. Occasionally due to illness, more often because of incorrect prioritizing. So when TTTWLAM said he had a spare ticket, I was in.

We skipped the opening act, Clinton's daughter (I sense a theme in shows we attend), to have a few drinks and to afford me the chance to check out the House of Blues' gift shop. TTTWLAM is allegedly crafting his opening post for his upcoming blog about the show, so I'll hold back on my theories about why there are so many freaking Buddhas in there. Let's just say the HoB isn't the most rootsy environment for a show, Dan Aykroyd's admittedly good intentions aside.

The show itself was great. A top 20, which makes the last 13 months or so (Bruce, Maiden, and now P-Funk) a pretty outstanding run. I won't go into much detail about the show itself, except to say that I hate the expression "blissed out," mostly because it makes me think of shit like Phish and Widespread Panic, but there were definitely some stretches there where the Mr. Clinton suspiciously transported me to Funkadelica, and that was even without sharing with the fellows in front of us who were forced to bend forward almost double to light up.

I will ask that you keep an eye out for Houston's own Mary Griffin, who came in for one song. When she started singing, a guy behind me said, "Whoa...Aretha." Then she came out on stage and I turned and said, "No, man: Tina."

Just a great, great show. I've been downloading Parliament-Funkadelic selections to flesh out my iTunes selection for the last couple days and feeling grateful for the chance I got to visit the Mothership. Thanks, George.

"What music do you put on to put your wife in the mood? 'Love Gun' or 'Subdivisions?'"

Metal Weekend on VH1 Classic has taught (and in some cases, re-taught) me many things:

+ Appetite for Destruction is that rarest of albums: note perfect wire to wire
+ Japanese band Loudness had, like, six videos
+ That Metal Show is more informative than the BBC and C-SPAN combined
+ Rik Emmett really made some...unfortunate wardrobe choices
+ Forced to adhere to present-day standards for music video attractiveness, Udo Dirkschneider would still be fucking awesome.

Some other "highlights:"

The Mets are pond scum, but Mike Piazza is pretty funny. Plus: Maiden vs. Priest:

Is there anything more heartbreaking than an empty playground? White Lion doesn't think so:

The Throwdown: Zeppelin vs. Sabbath - Yngwie's answer: "Deep Purple:"

Jani Lane laments the fact that "Cherry Pie" tarnished Warrant's good name. Of course, he manages to forget the rest of their ouevre consisted of shit like this:

Udo!

Vinnie! Just horrible. And that's Mark Slaughter lipsynching over Robert Fleischman's caterwauling lyrics. This is the real reason the Taliban hate us.

What did Patricia Arquette do before Medium? She made Dokken videos. Duh.

Finally, here's some Maiden:

Without a tear I draw my parting groan.

Road Trip

Deleted because I - as the comments have indicated - am a complete dumbass. Boy, time sure flies.

EDIT: Or not. The Slobberbone web page says January, but their MySpace and Facebook pages say tonight. And the Dallas Observer confirms. Now: are there still tickets, and can I get any when nobody at the Barley House feels like answering the phone today?

The documentary of the beast

As some of you may recall, back in May I joined Joni and The Thing That Walks Like A Man for a delightful evening of heavy metal and Satan worship at Iron Maiden's "Somewhere Back in Time" tour. Now, the proud Americans behind Metal: A Headbanger's journey have commemorated the occasion with Flight 666:

From Variety:

Arts Alliance Media will distribute feature doc "Iron Maiden: Flight 666" worldwide on April 21 in association with the legendary British heavy-metal band, EMI music and Universal in the U.S.

The doc focuses on Iron Maiden's Somewhere Back in Time world tour last year, which saw the band fly to perform in 13 countries in a customized Boeing 757 airliner piloted by lead singer Bruce Dickinson.

Wow. It's like what I just said.

The good news is, all of you pathetic losers decent, god-fearing folk who never got a chance to check Maiden out can now see what you missed while you were spending time with your families and getting an education. Suckers.

Lennon-ism

I like Christmas. Okay, not really, but I do like one aspect of it, and that's how the music of the season offers further support for my argument that John Lennon was superior to Paul McCartney.

Exhibit A - "Happy Xmas (War is Over)"

Yoko's atonal presence is negated by Phil Spector's production and the Harlem Community Choir, and besides that the anti-war message is in keeping with the spirit of the holiday itself.

Exhibit B - "Wonderful Christmastime"

The droning synth part perfectly accompanies inspired lyrics like "The spirit's up," "The party's on," and "Ding dong ding dong ooohh." All courtesy of the guy who tried to reverse the words "Lennon McCartney" in the credits for "Why Don't We Do it in the Road?"

Unfortunate word choice

From an e-mail sent by an immediate family member who shall remain nameless:

NEIL DIAMOND IS GOD!

I don't care if he is 67, he's still got it. Two hours without a break, never missed a beat, had the audience hanging from the rafters in the AT&T Center.

I'll be he did.

Did the nooses have the U-verse logo on them, by chance?

I...actually want my MTV

I guess we've come full circle. You can finally see videos on MTV again.

Well, MTVMusic.com, that is.

This looks like a fairly recent rollout, as the number of views on a lot of the videos (over 20,000 available) is under 10. They're better quality than YouTube, as well, though there are some pretty glaring omissions (no "She Blinded Me with Science," or "Flight of Icarus," which was the only Maiden video the network played for three years). I'm not going to pat MTV on the back for finally putting videos online, but this is a pretty nifty find.

And it seems nobody sought out Megadeth's "Peace Sells" before me. "This is the news!"

Oh Dave, you magnificent now born-again douchebag.

I'll dig around in Vintage Videos for a while (sweet, "Walking in My Shoes"), at least until the network decides to replace everything with Real World marathons.

At least it wasn't Jethro Tull

She Who Shall Not Be Named and I were in Whole Foods earlier today, searching for these GFCF vanilla sandwich cookies that apparently only exist at this one store in Tampa, and this older WF employee in the act of stocking shelves started singing a familiar song:

So ya
Thought ya
Might like to
Go to the show.
To feel that warm thrill of confusion,
That space cadet glow.
I've got some bad news for you sunshine,
Pink isn't well, he stayed back at the hotel
And they sent us along as a surrogate band
We're gonna find out where you folks really stand.

I'd been waiting for a chance to make a humorous interjection the whole time, and seized my chance...

Pete: Are you planning on singing that next verse?
Whole Foods Guy: I love that song, but I'd probably get in trouble.

For those who don't know, the next line of Pink Floyd's "In the Flesh" goes

Are there any queers in the theater tonight?
Get 'em up against the wall.

No word on how he would've approached the "coon" stanza.

So that's where all the talent went

CD Baby really makes you feel good about yourself:

Your CD has been gently taken from our CD Baby shelves with sterilized contamination-free gloves and placed onto a satin pillow. A team of 50 employees inspected your CD and polished it to make sure it was in the best possible condition before mailing. Our packing specialist from Japan lit a candle and a hush fell over the crowd as he put your CD into the finest gold-lined box that money can buy.

We all had a wonderful celebration afterwards and the whole party marched down the street to the post office where the entire town of Portland waved "Bon Voyage!" to your package, on its way to you, in our private CD Baby jet on this day, Friday, September 26th.

I hope you had a wonderful time shopping at CD Baby. We sure did.
Your picture is on our wall as "Customer of the Year." We're all exhausted but can't wait for you to come back to CDBABY.COM!!

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

The CD in question? "Shades of Violet" by a young woman with a decidedly familiar last name. Her music is a little more...acoustic than what I customarily listen to, but I figure if I do this maybe she'll buy my book. Whenever it comes out.

And she does a wicked cover of Joni Mitchell's "River," once you get past a few minutes of annoying interviewer:

And now, an interlude

Fuck Kid Rock.

In the mostly internet-free days since hurricane Ike used my house as a condom, I've been listening to a lot more radio. And in addition to the realization that the state of Florida is single-handedly keeping the classic rock industry alive, I've decided that Kid Rock is just about the worst human being on the planet.

I dared to hope he'd disappear after that unfortunate period in our nation's history several years ago, when legions of proto-mulletheads did the lame, early-21st century equivalent of the mosh to his soulless thud-core. That, for a number of reasons (a romance with Pam Anderson, the dunderheadedness of the American population) didn't happen. And now I learn that "All Summer Long," his newest cut from Rock N Roll Jesus that happens to sample Warren Zevon's "Werewolves of London" and Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama," has become his biggest hit.

Sorry, did I say "sample?" I should have said "burgle." See, sampling is the act of using a portion of a break or beat to construct a new tune, recognizable yet unto itself as a musical entity. Kid Rock, on the other hand, appropriates entire stanzas around which to drape his bland, "Jack and Diane"-esque lyrics. "All Summer Long's" entire opening is a repeat of "Werewolves," after which it invokes "Alabama," leading to a wholesale theft of that song's most famous riff. That isn't sampling, a la the Beastie Boys or Dr. Dre, that's some Vanilla Ice shit.

A lot of what we have to put up with in life is out of our control. Got a tree in my house? Fine. Sprained my ankle Labor Day weekend? Whatever. Grandmother passed away? Death is inevitable. But by god, I don;t have to put up with listening to the Motor City Moron shit up my airwaves for another second.

"It's called rocking out! - Pt. 2

Now then, the concert itself. If I had to limit myself to a one word review, that word would be "appalling."

Okay, so there was some good to be had: namely Mick Mars. The guys is 740 years old and suffering from ankylosing spondylitis, which has rendered him unable to turn his head or stand up straight (he's also shrunk from 5' 9" to 5' 3"), but the guy can still shred. If there was anything to recommend the first 3/4 of the set, it was hearing him play, whether he was rooted to his spot stage right or lurching to the front to solo.

As for everything else...let me just say that I saw Mötley Crüe in 1987 with Tim and a couple other guys. They were big back then. I mean, like, Def Leppard big (holla atcha boy, Plantersville!). Whitesnake opened, and both Heather Locklear and pre-high heel assault Tawny Kitaen were in attendance. The band themselves were also assisted on stage by the Nasty Habits, two leather-clad "backup singers" that provided eye candy to our side of the stage. Last week's show, on the other hand, reminded me of seeing KISS in 1989, when the lights in the first giant 'S' went out and they were openly heckled by those in attendance.

And I can't speak for Tim and the others, but I'm nowhere near as svelte or energetic as I was 21 years ago, and that's without the heroin snorting. The Crüe, on the other hand, are definitely the worse for two decades of wear. Vince Neil is a pudgy mosaic of bad plastic surgery, incipient hair loss, and poor lifestyle choices, Tommy Lee still talks like a stoned fratboy and is starting to resemble Jamie Farr in his old age, and all the Road Warrior fashion in the world isn't going to hide the gut on Nikki Sixx. I guess Kat Von D loves him for his mind.

What happened to Marshall stacks?

Even so, the fact that non-Mars members of the band are pushing 50 shouldn't excuse a poor performance, and I might have been more forgiving had I not seen two shows already this year featuring quinquagenarians that both vaulted into my top 10 all-time concert experiences. I was due for a letdown, and - at least in that regard - the Crüe didn't disappoint.

Right off the bat you knew there was going to be trouble. "Kickstart My Heart" was the opening song, and Neil was either unwilling or unable to sing half the words, holding his microphone out for the audience as if he paid $75 a pop to hear us sing. "Wild Side" and "Shout at the Devil" were done in similar lazy fashion, which made the microphone failure during "Don't Go Away Mad" (played about halfway through the show) that much more amusing.

"Saints of Los Angeles," from their latest album of the same name, was up next. The stage, poorly rendered here, was apparently meant to evoke a rooftop in the City of Angels. Was it the post-apocalyptic rape fantasy L.A. of "Looks That Kill?" Or perhaps the incomprehensible Chinatown of "Too Young to Fall in Love?" We may never know:

"Live Wire" followed, and I noted with no small amount of amusement that Tommy Lee's drum solo, for lack of a better phrase, hasn't improved one iota from the thrice tapped cowbell of the album version. We were also spared the fifteen minute spectacle of the elevated, upside down drum kit. I honestly think they killed that part of the set to keep Mick from spending more time on stage than absolutely necessary. I swear, at one point during Tommy's "titty cam" shenanigans (I dearly wish I was joking), Mick looked in my general direction, craned his aching skull skyward, and beseeched someone, anyone, to put him out of his misery.

Thus began a series of songs I honestly couldn't care less about: "Motherfucker of the Year," the aforementioned "Don't Go Away Mad," "Same Ol' Situation," and Primal Scream." It was around this time RTVW and I discovered the Toyota Center stopped serving alcohol at 9:30. Thus thwarted, we turned out attention to the video show accompanying the concert. Always ones for subtlety, the band entertained us with barely edited porn cut with concentration camp footage. And just so we were sure of where they (Sixx) got the idea, there were also plenty of shots of Malcolm McDowell with the eye clamps. The repeated shots of Bush giving the finger (during "Motherfucker") were a nice touch, however.

The final songs, unsurprisingly, provided the show's high points. "Looks that Kill and "Dr. Feelgood" were actually quite tight, "LTK" was especially rocking, but that's probably just because, like incontinent marathoners, they were in a hurry to finish up. And of course, no Crüe show would be complete without their sole encore, "Home Sweet Home:"

The song's annoyance factor is trebled not just by its popularity as an insufferable power ballad, but also because that dude at drum major camp in 1986 totally got all the hot ass because he could play the piano part (and yes, there was plenty of hot ass at drum major camp).

So, 13 songs. Not a lot to show for, what...nine studio albums? And nothing from the John Corabi era? Ah well, I was bound to have some missteps during my year of concert glory. Next up, the Drive-By Truckers in September.

"It's called rocking out!" - Pt. 1

Went to Mötley Crüe's cleverly named "Crüe Fest" Tuesday night - the first of many, if apparently deranged singer Vince Neil is to be believed. I attended the event with "Reality TV Wife" instead of Joni (the Metal Wife), mostly because RTVW has an in with a ticket broker and scored us the seats, which came with their own bar area (the Jack Daniels Lounge, if I'm not mistaken).

But I'm getting ahead of myself. First, we had to contend with the four opening acts at the fest, namely SIXX: A.M. (drolly referred to as "SUXX A.M." by those who referred to them at all), Trapt ("Trapped with a T," as I repeatedly stated to the annoyance of everyone around me), Papa Roach, and Buckcherry. RTVW and I don't agree on much, but we found common ground in our overwhelming lack of desire to sit through any of these performances. While debating options on our approach to the Toyota Center, we happened upon an open parking meter a block away from a bar called the BUS (two blocks from the Center). Our decision made, we went in to grab a few beers and debate when the Crüe would actually take the stage.

We were about an hour off, as it turns out.

I should digress for a moment to describe our ensembles. RTVW had, for whatever reason, decided to go with her slacks/blouse work outfit, while I elected to rock the jeans/fucking awesome Iron Maiden soccer jersey look:

Actual torso may not taper in the displayed manner

Sitting outdoors wasn't that bad for July in Houston. And for that I have to thank hurricane Dolly: you may have heaped misery upon south Texas/NE Mexico, but your outer cloud bands kept me cool while drinking, and that's what really matters.

After several beers/vodkas and much discussion about M*A*S*H-related minutiae, we decided to wander over to the Toyota Center. Security was pretty tight, which is perfectly understandable when the bulk of your audience are paunchy 40-somethings more concerned with whether the sitter is updating her MySpace page from the family PC than getting into a "rumble." Nevertheless, I allowed myself a brief frisson of nostalgia for my younger metal days, when we were hassled by "the pigs" at a Slayer concert. Happy days.

Upon arriving, RTVW went in search of food, while I scoped out our seats and got a pic of roadies striking the Papa Roach banner. Obviously we'd underestimated how long they could stretch out the "Last Resort" encore:

Killing time during a support performance goes a lot easier when you have a bar at which to seat yourself, and we could still hear strains of Buckcherry's performance drifting in from the arena, so - were we so inclined - we could've trotted out and heard instant classics like "Crazy Bitch" or "Sorry," which could go toe-to-toe with anything on Warrant's catalog for a place of honor in the Embarrassing Power Ballad Hall of Fame.

We also met a few colorful characters, including a couple guys down from Plantersville. I don't remember their names (or even if we were introduced), but one was a plumber based in Navasota, and the other was...between jobs, I think. They were metalheads from way back, however (each having graduated HS within two years of yours truly), and were only too willing to discuss their respective hellraising pasts, as well as the state of today's hard rock:

MetalHead #2: So we saw Def Leppard in San Antonio a few months ago, then drove up to Dallas to see 'em again the next night.
Pete: Did they play anything from "High 'N' Dry?"
MH #2: Uh, I don't think so. Anyway, if you ask me, the only current rock band that can come close to Leppard lyrically is Nickelback.
Pete: [chokes on beer]
MH #2: You've never heard of Nickelback?
Pete: Oh...I've heard of them.

I deflected further suspicion by remarking how often "Pour Some Sugar on Me" is played in strip clubs, which led to a studied and thoroughly exhaustive analysis on the quality of fishnet stockings in the immediate vicinity. I noted, with no little satisfaction, that my g-g-generation has few reservations about jockeying with the younger set for elite tramp status:

38-year olds, Dude.

The only other encounter of note involved an underage fellow who approached us to buy him a beer. That's not entirely accurate, for in truth he approached MetalHead #2, who immediately launched into a breakdown of his top 10 greatest teenage drinking stories. We steered him toward the bar anyway, and RTVW gently chided the kid for not knowing to approach the female in any group with such requests.

Of course, I call him a "kid" when the fucker looked/was built like Brady Quinn. I have no doubt he's a regular at the neighborhood Valero station, buying Busch tallboys for his hormonally-challenged friends with impunity. Curse your draconian one ID/one drink policy, Toyota Center.

Finally, it was time for the Crüe to take the stage. Which I'll cover in Part 2...

And they shall know us by the trail of...panties

Friend and award-winning filmmaker Don reacted to my attending both the new Indiana Jones movie and the Iron Maiden show in May by commenting it must have felt like prom was just around the corner. And while I have yet to go scrounge for Chris DeBurg's "Lady in Red" on iTunes, my attending this event will only serve to prolong my painful second adolescence:

Prepare yourself for 5 bands, one colossal show and a trail of panties from coast to coast. That's right, Mötley Crüe has just announced their massive summer tour, CRÜE FEST.

Featuring Mötley Crüe, Buckcherry, Papa Roach, SIXX: A.M., and Trapt, plus the Rock Band second stage experience, CRÜE FEST is sure to upset neighbors and blow out eardrums across the nation.

Yeah, they're sure to annoy the hell out of all those attendants working the parking garages that flank the Toyota Center. But really, it's cute that the guys still maintain that "rock and roll all nite/party ev-er-y day" façade, even as Vince heaves himself around like a blond Jon Lovitz and Mick strives to be the world's first 170-year old guitar player.

Doors open at 5:30. Looking at that lineup, I'll be showing up around 9.

UPDATE: Laanba reminds me of the upcoming Rock the Bayou fest coming Aug. 29-Sep. 1, of which I had heard rumors but - for fear of being called out on it - hadn't really checked into. Thanks a pantload, L.

I really have to hand it to whoever picked the dates for this, 'cause I can't think of a better place to spend late summer in Houston than on what is essentially a giant parking lot surrounded by a bunch of Malmsteen fans (though I'll bet those chicks who were into Slaughter 20 years ago are finally willing to talk to me).

This is one of those events that requires some serious embedded journalism...a doughty pioneer willing to devote a Labor Day weekend to sweating his ass off while listening to a parade of failures Cheyne-Stokes-ing their way through a horrible rendition of "Summertime Girls" as their paunch strains against the crusty seams of their ancient leather pants.

I'll talk to The Wife.

Maiden Voyage - Pt. 1

Heavy Metal Parking Lot Restaurant

Most of you are aware of the 1986 mini-doc Heavy Metal Parking Lot, which peeled back the mystique shrouding the world of metal to show us the cream of Amerca's youth. Shot before a Judas Priest show at the Capital Center in Largo, MD. It's a wonderful, all-too brief glimpse of Mullet Nation as it existed some 20 years ago.

My own hard rock recollections from that era are fairly numerous, though somewhat less vivid. From Cheap Trick in 1983 to Motley Crue ('87) to Slayer ('88) and many others, I hung out with more than my fair share of skinny teens with bad skin and anger management issues. To anyone who attended metal shows in the 1980s, HMPL wasn't a whimsical curiosity, it was a morbid reminder of the legions of homophobic sub-literates that populated the metal scene.

Wooderson?

These images came to mind last Thursday (5/22), when Iron Maiden's "Somewhere Back in Time" tour hit Houston. The Thing That Walks Like a Man and I were heading to Baker St. Restaurant & Pub in the swanky Waterway section of the Woodlands to meet Joni for some pre-concert beers. The two of us were both dressed in acceptable concert gear: black t-shirt and jeans/shorts, an ensemble that works for most musical events. But while we'd made a (conscious or not) decision not to be "that guy" by wearing shirts of the band we were seeing, we were definitely in the minority.

Baker St. had been taken over by the Iron Maiden F(an) C(lub) (I'm a member, but only for ticket presale purposes). For just like the Cap Center itself - demolished to make way for a mall - so too is the pre-concert parking lot experience only a distant memory. Fans wanting to get their drink on before paying $10 per Fosters in one of our nation's many fine corporate multi-purpose entertainment venues won't be welcome in the heavily patrolled parking areas. But that's okay, because the chain outlets like Baker St. that make up the larger business districts surrounding these arenas will welcome today's older, fatter metal aficionado with open arms.

At first, I felt kind of bad for folks wandering in for a random happy hour drink or an early dinner (and especially the older folks who were there for a birthday party), but the overwhelming majority of those in the bar were in their 30s, fairly well-off, and relatively docile. Many had also brought their own kids, for whom the act of attending an Iron Maiden show with Mom and Dad was probably such a lethal combination of ironic detachment and self-loathing they bled from the eyes for hours.

At least the token Ratt fan didn't appear to have any children.

Wow, my generation hasn't aged well. I suggested to a guy sitting next to us that maybe Messrs. Pearcy and DeMartini were opening for the Irons. His reply: "I fucking hope not."

All told, a full afternoon. Between trying to convince one particularly hammered "young" lady of the need to eat something before the show (she declined) and trying to convince Christine the waitress to take our extra ticket (she also declined, but only because she made the mistake of asking her manager), it was a pleasant, air-conditioned lead-in to the show itself. And nary a mullet to be found.

Next: Out Spinal Tapping Spinal Tap

Two minutes days to midnight Maiden

In less than two days' time, actually, I will be singing along to "Fear of the Dark" with TTTWLAM, Heavy Metal Wife Joni, and an attendee to be named later at the Woodlands Pavillion. And while the possibility of me being "that guy" are almost nil (I don't actually own a Maiden t-shirt), I have no idea what to wear.

Maybe I'll dig out the old argyle sweater.

Meet the new Boss

Good as the old Boss.

Saw Bruce Springsteen at the Toyota Center last night. Maybe it was because we had seats in the section with its own bar, and maybe it was because everyone around us was actually a fan (unlike when we saw him on the Rising tour in 2002), but it was a fantastic show that hit on all cylinders, and easily one of my favorite concert experiences in recent memory, if not of all time.

The setlist:

"Cadillac Ranch" - A nice rollicking opener, even if this one's probably in my secondary tier of Bruce songs.
"Radio Nowhere" - Bruce knows to stick with the more popular new stuff. Most of the crowd recognizes this one and gets into it.
"Lonesome Day" - No drop off, as they continue with one of the better tunes from The Rising
"Atlantic City" - And then...one of my all-time favorites is the fourth song in. Dallas got "Prove it All Night," I'll take this.
"Magic" - I didn't know this one right off the bat. Several people go for beers.
"Because the Night" - Bit of a surprise, but a welcome one. Please reclaim this from Natalie Merchant.
"Candy's Room" - The first down point for me, but only because I've never been that fond of it.
"She's the One" - Or this one.
"Out in the Street" - Wa oh ah oh oh...now we're on the trolley.
"Living in the Future" - The first song Bruce sings to the poor bastards behind the stage. Also the first (that I heard) to elicit some groans from some nearby old white people for his leftist commentary. If you paid $90 for a ticket to see the Boss without knowing his political leanings, ain't you de fool.
"The Promised Land" - Just great. The high points continue.
"Girls in Their Summer Clothes" - Or not. Not a bad song, but playing "AC" and "BtN" early on has whet my appetite for older stuff.
"The E Street Shuffle" - Played by special request. Haven't heard this in eons.
"Terry's Song" - I had to tell one of our concert companions to shut up for this one, which might be my favorite from the new album.
"Devil's Arcade" - Not bad, but everyone knows the big guns are just around the corner.
"The Rising" - A rousing number, especially when combined with...
"Last to Die" - Presented with little commentary, but riveting just the same.
"Long Walk Home"
"Badlands"
"Thunder Road" - Wow. You know, you could close out a show with those two and not many people would complain. We weren't even two hours in at that point, however.

"Always a Friend" - w/Alejandro Escovedo
"All Just to get to You" - w/Joe Ely - These were great surprises. I was a True Believers fan back in the day and it was great to see Alejandro back in the saddle, and Ely is great fun live. These songs were a real high point.
"Rosalita"
"Born to Run"
"10th Avenue Freeze Out"
"American Land"

Not much to add to that. Closing out with those three plus "Land" was just awesome.

Here's a thumbnail of the official list, which can be found at brucespringsteen.net. Looks like we were supposed to get "Point Blank," and "Murder, Inc." instead of "Because the Night," but I'm not complaining.

I'm bummed there was no "No Surrender," which he's played at a number of dates this tour, or "Darkness on the Edge of Town," but that's mere nitpicking. Just a great, great show. Even at 58, the dude rocks harder than guys a third his age - including yours truly, who has a sore throat from bellowing along with "Born to Run" - and acts like he's having a hell of a time doing it.

To quote Rob Gordon, "Thanks, Boss."

"Just so you don't hear any wild rumors, I'm being indicted for fraud in Australia."

Settle an internal debate for me:

Yes, I know it's AC/DC, slashes apparently screw up PollHost's code.

"Someone else" can include anyone but Silverchair, Divinyls, and Wolfmother, because they suck. If you choose this answer, please elaborate.

Up the irons

Just when I started to think my Heavy Metal Wife Joni had forsake me for someone younger and with more appropriately feathered hair, she sends an e-mail informing me Iron Maiden will be bringing their Somewhere Back in Time World Tour to Houston on May 22:

This tour revisits the band's history by focusing almost entirely on their classic 80's period in both choice of songs played and the stage set, which is based around the legendary Egyptian Production of that 'Powerslave Tour' as portrayed on the Live After Death DVD. This will arguably be the most elaborate and spectacular show the band have ever presented. Furthermore the band intends to bring along for this summer leg of the tour the colossal mummy of Eddie, as featured on the Live After Death DVD, along with various other elements of the show that would not fit on their 757 on the first leg of this tour...

Up for a road trip, Tim?

And before anyone asks, I will not "bring my daughter to the slaughter." I did, however, serenade her this afternoon with a medley consisting of - among others - "The Trooper," "Flight of Icarus," "Fear of the Dark," and "Wasted Years." To The Wife's growing annoyance.

"The Lord erased a major portion of the horror and utter despair that I felt during my playing days."

So thanks to whoever perused my Amazon wishlist and sent me Michael K. Haynes' The god Of Rock: A Christian Perspective of Rock Music last month. It's given me and my family hours of amusement, especially my sister-in-law, whose recent bout with stomach flu necessitated her spending several days in out bathroom over the Christmas break.

For those - mercifully - not in the know, TgOR was published in 1982 and was passed around to great hilarity by my merry band of heathens in junior high. Haynes is an ex-musician who saw the error of his ways and went on to found a ministry and become a Baptist pastor. Here's an excerpt:

IRON MAIDEN

This groups is [sic] relatively obscure "heavy metal" molten madness band that has recently come out with an album named "The Number of the Beast 666."

The promotion for this album which was seen in a recent Billboard magazine pictures the skeleton of a Rock musician looming largely over the fiery pit of hell. The Devil himself stands second in command under the authority of the musician. (They just don't know.) Darkness is in the background, lightning is flashing, and hell is seen as being filled with millions of people and demons. The artwork is unbelievably gross, but pictures the possibilities very well.

The copy for the promotion reads like this: IRON MAIDEN FORGED IN THE FIRES OF HELL - THE NEW ALBUM FROM THE MASTERS OF MOLTEN METAL MADNESS - THE BEAST ON THE ROAD and other "cute" sayings.

Iron Maiden in now on a rival with Judas Priest, Van Halen, Black Sabbath, and other bands that serve their god very well.

And it goes on like this. Come on over to my house and use our bathroom for more.

"And I've a mind to go spit on his grave"

So I'm minding my own business in the kitchen tonight, trying to decide if I have to wall mount some shelves near ceiling level to keep our kid from constantly attempting to juggle the steak knives, when The Wife calls me out to the living room. And why is she interrupting my ruminations? To inform me that "Decoration Day" by the Drive-By Truckers is playing over the dénouement of Criminal Minds, one of the many fine network TV shows rendering jury pools useless across the country.

I'm not too worried about this heralding a Coldplay-like love affair between TV and the DBTs. Jason Isbell had the prettiest voice in the band, and he left last year. More likely somebody on the show did a Google search for song lyrics pertaining to family violence and "Day" popped up, even though its Hatfields and McCoys theme didn't quite fit the plot of the show.

None of this really gets me too worked up, honestly. I'm just trying to kill some time before I finish up the entry about last week's Vegas trip.

Convert to Judy's-ism

MikeD passes along this happy news:

Just thought you'd like to know that The Judy's have finally released Washarama and Moo on CD. They sound fucking fantastic.

We launched the site earlier this week: http://www.wastedtalentrecords.com

I know for a fact that they have recorded at least one new song, and an anniversary double album edition of Washarama is in the works (with completely different material than what is on the current release). I'll keep on kicking Jeff in the shins until they promise to do it...

A long time coming. Go order your copies. And Mike neglected to mention it, but you can also order a copy of Where's My Towel/ Industry Standard by the Big Boys (produced by David Bean). Finally a companion for my copy of Lullabies Help the Brain Grow.

"It's true, it's true...we're so lame."

"See white guys, they drive like this."

You ready for another list demonstrating who unhip you are? If so, here's the 10 Rap Songs White People Love:

10. Positive K - I Got A Man
9. Digital Underground - The Humpty Dance
8. Biz Markie - Just A Friend
7. Young MC - Bust A Move
6. Rob Base and DJ Easy Rock - It Takes Two
5. Naughty By Nature - Hip Hop Hooray
4. Tag Team - Whoomp (There It Is)
3. Vanilla Ice - Ice Ice Baby
2. House of Pain - Jump Around
1. Sir Mix-A-Lot - Baby Got Back

Vanilla Ice? You wound me, sir. I mean, at least throw Snow's "Informer" up there. And "Nuthin' But a G Thang" has to rate as well.

I can personally state that #s 10, 5, 4, and 3 are pretty much false. "I Got a Man" is largely forgotten, The Naughty By Nature song should be "OPP," and "Whoomp" is only popular if you count people sitting in the stands at football games as active Tag Team fans.

And "Ice Ice Baby" is easily as loathed by the teeming masses of honkies as anyone else.

As for the others: "The Humpty Dance" is admittedly still pretty catchy, my dad is an avowed fan of Young MC, I had to hunt far and wide for a CD copy of the Rob Base CD for The Wife, and I still occasionally listen to House of Pain's first one.

And "Baby Got Back" is unassailable. I say this because I've seen it in action, at a now-defunct C&W joint called (*sigh*) the Longhorn Saloon. I don't remember the circumstances that took us there, probably one of The Wife's work-related functions. I drank a few beers, made some feeble attempts to two-step, and watched in horror tinged with hysteria when the entire population of that bar flooded the dance floor for Sir Mix-A-Lot's magnum opus. I guess hip hop is safe when it sticks to asses and the like.

I give up

I mean, Houston's only the fucking 4th largest city in the country:

Oct 14 - College Station, TX - Big State Festival at the Texas World Speedway (this will be a ROCK SHOW) BUY TICKETS

The DBTs are playing Oct. 13 in New Orleans, and Oct. 16 in Tulsa.

Pros for attending the Big State Festival: Willie, Lyle Lovett, Robert Earl Keen, Reckless Kelly, Kelly Wills, and Charlie Louvin.

Cons: Tim McGraw, Trace Adkins, Dierks Bentley, and sitting through about two dozen other bands I've never heard of.

The hell with it. TWS is about a 75-minute drive from my house. And at this rate, the next DBT tour won't take them closer than Little Rock.

Hope you die before I get old

Two unrelated musical thoughts:

1. She Who Shall Not Be Named sometimes falls asleep in the car when I'm driving her home in the afternoon. To facilitate nap time, I'll occasionally switch to the easy listening station on Sirius (Movin EZ). Today, I caught Olivia Newton-John's "Please Mister Please," and I had occasion once again to thank the Great Old Ones I didn't spend my formative years in the 1970s. I don't know how anybody survived that shit.

I mean, I delude myself into thinking that - were I a '70s teen - I'd be really into the Stooges, Ramones, the Clash, and Big Star, but I know I'd be sporting the white boy afro and listening to Kansas and Styx in Peenman's Good Times Van, and I hate myself for it.

2. Also today, and possibly on the same station, I heard that John Mayer song "Waiting on the World to Change." With insipid lines like, "It's not that we don't care/We just know that the fight ain't fair" to justify his inaction, I was reminded Of that equally lame Jesus Jones song, "Right Here, Right Now." Remember that video? Here, let me refresh your memory:

The most striking thing, aside from that goofy bastard playing keyboards, is how Mike Edwards celebrates the fall of Communism and the exciting changes in the world by watching fucking TV. You couldn't illustrate narcissistic apathy better if Paris Hilton made an appearance. No wonder David Lowery sang about hating his generation.

"People of the world..."

"Every boy and every girl:"

The Spice Girls have confirmed they will reform for a world tour to take place in December and January.

The full line-up has not performed on stage since Ginger Spice Geri Halliwell quit in May 1998.

The 11 dates announced include a London show on 15 December, eight days after the tour begins in Los Angeles.
[...]
The only British date is in London, with the venue not yet confirmed. The other European dates are in Cologne and Madrid.

Yep, the Spice Girls - former Confession Time subject on this very blog - are going back on tour. No Texas dates, mores the pity. Just Los Angeles, Las Vegas, and New York. I have an as-yet unscheduled Vegas trip coming to me, however, and I might be able to convince my traveling companions the weekend of December 8.

I just need to lie and tell them my favorite exotic dancer is at the Cheetah, which has the virtue of being not too far off the mark.

Halliwell added: "For us it's about celebrating the past, enjoying each other and it's about our fans. It was kind of now or never."

In that case, I fully expect this to be part of the night's ensemble:

Yo, I'll tell you what I want. What I really...really want.

"The toppings contain potassium benzoate."

Addressing a dilemma the only way I know how, Simpsons-style:

House of Evil Owner: One of your favorite bands, the Drive-By Truckers, is on tour this summer, but they're not coming to Houston.
Pete: Oooh, that's bad.
House of Evil Owner: But they are playing something called the Lone Star Fandango in Dallas.
Pete: That's good!
House of Evil Owner: It's outdoors on July 15. High summer in Texas.
Pete: That's bad.
House of Evil Owner: But they're sharing a bill with the Drams and the Old 97's.
Pete: That's good!
House of Evil Owner: Tickets for reserved seating are $75.
Pete: ...
House of Evil Owner: That's bad.
Pete: I could stay with my sister in Ft. Worth...

ZZ Top and David Allan Coe are the headliners, but I have no interest in seeing either of them, since I'm pretty sure staying until the end requires the wearing of some sort of Confederate flag attire, and I have a tendency to break out if I wear anything bought at a Stuckey's.

So, should I even attempt to check this out?

Drags of our fathers

Because we're in the waning hours of Father's Day, and because it's simply too depressing for me to think about the fact that my own father recently received his black belt while I haven't thrown a punch in anger since the '90s, I'm going to bitch about the fact that the newest song of my youth being subverted for marketing purposes is "Sunny Side of the Street" by the Pogues.

It's hardly the first song from my impressionable salad days that's been appropriated in order to convince us to buy things. I can still remember the days of actual indignation when Orange Crush used "Good Vibrations" by the Beach Boys back in the early '80s, Nike set their shoe commercials to "Revolution 1," or when Eric Clapton and Genesis essentially wrote songs specifically to sell Michelob a few years later, but the interval between a song's release and when it pops up in a TV ad is pretty infinitesimal these days, so nobody really notices. Until it's something near and dear to them.

Which is what happened last night. I recognized the tune almost before the picture started, and when I realized my beloved Pogues were shilling for Cadillac (in an Escalade commercial, of all things), I just had to clutch my head in my hands. Very few of these things affect me anymore, but...fuck, I love the Pogues. I mean, using "Fairytale of New York" as the background music for Dominic returning to Ireland in season 2 of The Real World was kind of bad, but at least it was fucking Ireland. Escalades? Shit.

What's worse is, I suspect the guy who pitched this campaign is someone like me: he probably digs the Pogues and listened to their music a lot while getting loaded in college and exaggerating his Irish heritage to the foreign exchange students in his marketing program. Hell, he might even have thought he was doing something cool by proposing it as the song for their new ad campaign. So he got whoever the surviving members of the band with legal say-so are to agree to it, it doesn't change the fact that this person missed the fucking point entirely.

In the grand scheme of things, this is all pretty insignificant, but it annoyed me, so I guess that's good enough for a blog. Stay tuned for my next meltdown, which will probably take place shortly after Coca-Cola uses "Bastards of Young" to sell Diet Coke "Plus" during the World Series.

EDIT: Karin beats me to it.

When the server is running down

Aggravating news for everyone trying to get Police pre-sale tickets yesterday morning:

An automated ticket broker script was programmed to start hitting our system at the start of presales today. Our security measures blocked the attack, but the automated scripts from the ticket brokers continued to try to find a way into our ticket system and all this build up of traffic caused the site to crash. We have stabilized the site and will continue with presales today as scheduled below.

Members were supposed to be able to get tickets at 10 AM, which was bumed to 11 AM on the Ticketmaster site without any fanfare. This got bumped back to noon after the above announcement hit the web page, much to the consternation of just about everyone on the message boards.

So to sum up, existing members got to buy at noon yesterday, people wanting to wait for the "bundle" on Ticketmaster (electing to join if tickets were available) got their shot at 4 PM, while the general public has to wait until Saturday morning.

And then there are those of who were able to get in and get their tickets at the regular time anyway. That's right, I'll be at the Toyota Center June 29 with all the other almost-middle-aged idiots desperately trying to cling to the dissipating tendrils of their youth.

Any chance they won't play "Every Breath You Take?"

And everything I had to know
I heard it on my radio

I can count on one hand the number of musicians/artists whose deaths have affected me beyond a cursory "Gee, that sucks" exclamation, but one of them was Freddie Mercury. The news that he'd kicked was like a punch in the gut to a guy who'd been a Queen fan since their News of the World days.

When he died in 1991, the BBC aired a tribute. I ran across Pt. 1 on MetaFilter. Normally it wouldn't warrant an individual post, but I ran across it the same day I saw this story on the BBC about George Michael playing the first concert at the new Wembley Stadium:

Singer George Michael is to play the first concert at the new Wembley Stadium, it has been announced.

The pop star will perform at the 90,000 capacity venue on 9 June as part of his British and European stadium tour.

Michael, 43, played several key gigs at the old stadium, including Live Aid in 1985 and Wham's farewell concert in 1986 with ex-bandmate Andrew Ridgeley.

Bully for him, but for this particular non-Briton who never got a chance to actually visit the place, the ultimate old Wembley gig was Queen in1986. To this day, I regret never getting to see them live.

I won't make the same mistake when Iron Maiden comes through here again.

Achtung. Polizei.

It's no Cinderella reunion, but it'll do:

The Police have booked rehearsal space for their upcoming reunion tour, according to reports.

The news seems to confirm claims that the band are on the brink of reforming, more than 20 years since they last played live.

Sting, Andy Summers, and Stewart Copeland are expected to reunite at Lions Gate Studios in Vancouver in the coming weeks to work on material.

With the group currently celebrating the 30th anniversary of their breakthrough hit "Roxanne," details of a full world tour are expected shortly, reports Billboard.

The Police came to Houston in 1984 on their Synchronicity tour and played an amazing show. Of course, I was in 9th grade and living in College Station and the chances of my parents letting me go to the Big City for a rock concert were essentially nil, so I had to hear all about it from Peenman's older brother, who was a senior at the time and gloated about it endlessly while driving us to school. True story.

Anyway, it's pretty common knowledge the three met briefly in Park City at last year's Sundance Film Festival, where Copeland was promoting Everyone Stares: The Police Inside Out, Sting was producing A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints and Summers was bumming quarters. Nothing reportedly came of that particular meeting, but now it looks like I might finally get a chance to see one of my favorite bands of all time live.

Especially since Queen probably won't be reuniting in the near future.

Mama's gonna buy you a satellite

As a Sirius Radio subscriber, it's apparently my sovereign duty to inform you that Sirius will be free for the listening on the internet tomorrow and Thursday, Oct. 25-26. Simply go to the web site and log in using your e-mail address to take advantage.

I actually thought you could do this at any time to create a temporary account and sample the wares, but never mind that now.

Just as the title of this entry implies, the Hooters are but a taste of the wonders that await you, should you decide to indulge. To give you an idea, here are a few of my own personal presets:

18 - The Spectrum - "Adult contemporary" is such an ugly phrase. I prefer "Testicularly challenged rock."
22 - First Wave - More Smiths than you can shake a celibate bicycle pump at.
23 - Hair Nation - Poison and Ratt and Krokus, oh my!
25 - Underground Garage - This is actually one of my favorite channels, with everyone from the Lords of the New Church to the Mummies.
27 - Hard Attack - The inclusion of old Metallica and Sabbath make up for Cradle of Filth. For now.
30 - The Coffee House - Only included because The Wife rides in the car a lot.
35 - Chill - Hey, mellow off man.
43 - Backspin - Let the rhythm hit 'em, good sir.
63 - Outlaw Country - Waylon, Hanks I and III, Cash, and a variety of others. One of my favorites.
116 - Kids Stuff - You'd be surprised how much you can put up with the Wiggles if it'll keep your darling child from screaming.
134 - NPR Now - Sirius has two NPR channels for all your public radio needs.
141 - BBC World Service - News and football...the European kind.

Obviously the biggies for this promotion are the two Howard Stern channels (100 is fine, skip 101 with Bubba the Love Sponge and all that shit), the NFL, and the Who and Stones channels. All well and good, I just wish they could somehow push this to your car stereos. I can't speak for everyone, but spend 20 minutes driving in Houston without commercials and you'll never go back to terrestrial radio.

"Smithers, have the Rolling Stones killed."

I'm not one for begging on my blog, but I might have to reconsider and ask for the roughly $300 I'd need for a round-trip ticket to experience musical nirvana:

DRIVE-BY TRUCKERS DATES:
Wed Oct 25
St. Louis, MO - Mississippi Nights w/The Drams

The Drams, in case you didn't know by now, are the band formed by Brent, Jess, and Tony after the break-up of Slobberbone, AKA my favorite band of all time. To see them with the DBTs - my current favorite band - would be, well, it'd be something.

Any takers? I've got tons of family in St. Louis, and one in particular who's pretty high up at Anheuser-Busch, so maybe we could work out an exchange. At least until these assholes deign to make a stop in Houston (merely the fourth largest city in the freaking country).

Nah, just kidding. I know none of you drink Budweiser.

Hopefully this won't result in the revocation of my Iron Maiden fan club credentials

By the power of YouTube, I have been able to waste an unspecified amount of time tracking down long forgotten videos and favorite artists. I won't bore you with most of them, except to present a video introspective of Tanya Donnelly, ex-Throwing Muses, Breeders, and Belly, and possibly my longest running musical infatuation.

Next to Freddie Mercury.

First, we have "Not Too Soon" by the Throwing Muses. From the bad blonde dye job to the ubiquitous (for the early '90s) leggings, she was everything a poser indie rock fan could want. And Kristin Hersh is mercifully silent.

Next, Belly's "Feed the Tree". This one is from their first album, Star, though I tend to think both it and King are quite underrated. And dig that pirate blouse.

Finally, Tanya solo on "The Bright Light" (off 1997's Love Songs for Underdogs). Mellow gold.

Belly was the first concert The Wife and I saw when we were dating. I think - deep down - she realized that if Ms. Donnelly had pointed me out in the audience, David Lee Roth-style, so the roadies could escort me backstage, that would've been the end of our short relationship. Curiously, that didn't happen.

It's cool, I think we had the same arrangement for her regarding Angus Macfadyen.

Can't hardly wait

Matthew, the administrator of the SKYWAY mailing list, assures us this is not an April Fool's joke:

Color us fucking impressed: Original flannel gods the Replacements have recorded their first new material since 1990. According to a press release from Rhino Records, 3/4 of the original lineup (and the only surviving ones), Paul Westerberg, Tommy Stinson, and Chris Mars, reconvened last December in Minneapolis to record two new Westerberg-penned tunes, "Message to the Boys" and "Pool & Dive," for the upcoming Replacements compilation Don't You Know Who I Think I Was?: The Best of the Replacements.

According to Billboard.com, the tracks were recorded at producer Ed Ackerson's Flowers Studio. Josh Freese (Vandals, A Perfect Circle) played the drums; original drummer Mars opted out of stick duties in favor of recording backing vocals. No mention was made of former guitarist Slim Dunlap who performed with the band from 1987 to 1991, following original guitarist Bob Stinson's departure. (Bob Stinson died in 1995.)
[...]
Don't You Know Who I Think I Was? is scheduled for release on June 13, and will feature 18 classic tracks alongside the pair of new recording. It will also mark the second officially sanctioned 'Mats compilation since the group disbanded in 1991, and the first to encompass their entire career, as 1997's All For Nothing, Nothing For All only documented their later, less influential, years on Sire.
[...]
As if that isn't enough news from the long-dormant outfit, a recent Rhino podcast revealed details of a Replacements box set tentatively due out next year. Featuring a new interview with founding member (and current Guns n' Roses bassist) Tommy Stinson, the podcast unveiled plans for a multi-disc package that will draw from the band's entire back catalog, including a host of previously unreleased material, as well as a DVD of live performances.

New material? Great news. Boxed set? Awesome news. Now to complete the superlative trifecta, you guys need to put together another tour. Hit the club circuit (none of this 10,000 seat theater or festival crap) and thrash out "Bastards of Young" and "Alex Chilton" in front of a couple hundred sweaty, drunken fans. You guys are one of the greatest rock and roll bands of all time, time to remind people currently choking on shit like Fall Out Boy and the All-American Rejects of that fact.

And I know y'all don't remember that 1988 show you played at the Texas Union Ballroom any better than I do. Help a brother out.

Sadly, they can't all be "Hair Nation"

Sirius added five new channels today, none of which will ever taint my receiver presets.

Heh heh..."taint."

Blue Collar Comedy Channel

Featuring the Blue Collar Comedy of Jeff Foxworthy, Larry the Cable Guy, Bill Engvall, Kathleen Madigan, Lisa Lampanelli, Ralphie May and many more, showcasing their enormously successful movies, tours, CDs, TV programs and books.

Madigan is a bit of a stretch, and Lisa Lampanelli certainly hits the racial slur high notes so favored by blue collar comedy fans, but her routine is much more tongue-in-cheek than just that. Guess they needed some females to round out the sausage fest that is the Blue Collar Comedy Tour.

And I notice Ron White is conspicuously absent. Guess he should've developed a catchphrase, something that never gets tiresome, like "Git-R-Done" or "Here's your sign" or "You might be a redneck if..." That, my friend, is comedy.

Now that they've been sequestered in their own little lily white corner of satellite radio, this means I don't have listen to Bill Engvall's unlistenable "family friendly" crap and Ralphie May's whiteboy ebonics shtick on the other comedy channels, right?

Fox News / Fox News Talk

Mmm. My cup runneth over.

Cosmo Radio

Advice on love, sex, and relationships; tips on beauty, fitness and fashion; the latest celebrity gossip; and the news you need to be the most informed girl at the water cooler. Cosmo Radio takes you to the velvet ropes with our editors at special events and lets you listen (if you dare!) to guys giving their uncensored opinions on dating and relationships. Plus, you'll hear extra editions of your favorite columns, like Ask Him Anything, Bedside Astrologer, and Guy Spy.

Heaven forbid you actually read a newspaper or listen to the BBC to become the "most informed girl at the water cooler."

Shit, you don't have to sign up for Sirius to hear "uncensored opinions" on dating and relationships, either. Just pay me for gas and I'll take you to the local SRO Sports Bar. You'll get an earful, believe me.

Playboy Radio

Q. What will be the content on the Playboy channel?

A. Playboy Radio features a full range of new live programming created for SIRIUS, such as a new morning show that will include segments with Playboy founder Hugh Hefner, live call-in shows and broadcasts from the Playboy Mansion. Playboy Radio on SIRIUS will be Playboy's most extensive foray into radio, producing more than four times the content of previous radio ventures to keep listeners entertained morning, noon and night. Aimed at the same mature, sophisticated audience that Playboy Magazine helped to define, Playboy Radio encompasses the entire array of what Playboy is: Hef, The Mansion, The Playmates, The Girls Next Door, the Magazine, and Playboy TV. Care to talk live with a real Playboy Bunny? You can on this channel! From the lifestyle of the sophisticated gentleman, to the inner secrets of an adult star -- if you want it, you'll find it on Playboy Radio.

I hope they can land ace correspondents Scott Baio and Danny Bonaduce to describe in detail all the giant silicone breasts bouncing around them. Nothing is more indicative of Playboy's continued cutting edge grasp of the adult entertainment industry than featuring semi- or fully naked women on a medium where absolutely no one can see them.

That's good radio.

Mild in the streets

Maybe I'm reading too much into early '80s punk lyrics, but this saucy couplet by the Circle Jerks has been bugging me for a while:

'64 Valiant, handful of valium
Couple of beers really do me right

How the hell does that equate to "Wild in the Streets?" Wouldn't it be more like "Dozing at the Stoplight?" "Prone on the Futon?"

Requiem for a Social Life - Ch. 317

The music schedule is up for this year's South by Southwest festival. I haven't gone through it too closely, mostly because I'll only be there for the first weekend to...ahem..."see some films." The Wife will be on another continent during the following week, meaning my odds of hitting a late night show at the Back Room and then dragging my ass back to Houston the same night are, shall we say, unlikely.

So it really pains me to see this:

La Zona Rosa (612 W 4th St) (All Ages)
The Drams - 10:00 p.m.
Drive By Truckers - 1:00 a.m.

In case you didn't know, the Drams are Brent, Jess, and Tony from Slobberbone, plus Keith Killoren and Chad Stockslager of Budapest One. The DBTs, for their part, have taken the title of Pete's Favorite Band in the wake of Slobberone's break-up (the latter occupied the spot for a good four years).

Somehow, I don't think our usual babysitter would be up for staying over until 5 AM (I think they charge double time after 10:00 anyway).

"'Cause Mr. Phillips never blew enough hot air to need a little gold plated paperweight."

The new Grammy nominations are here! The new Grammy nominations are here!

Mariah Carey's comeback came full circle Thursday as she was nominated for eight Grammys, including album of the year for "The Emancipation of Mimi" and song and record of the year for her torch ballad "We Belong Together."

"This year has been such a blessing," Carey told The Associated Press shortly after the nominations were announced. "This is prayers answered. I'm grateful for the nominations and I'm really grateful for the fact that people are responding to the music I've made."

I'm reminded of one of Evan Dorkin's comic strips, which shows God watching an awards show and commenting, "Don't thank me, kid...I fucking hated your album."

The Grammy people aren't responding to your music, Mariah, they're just happy you released an album so they can continue to prove their irrelevance by nominating dreck like Fall Out Boy, Rascal Flatts, and Kanye West instead of Ryan Adams, Coldplay, or - dare I say - the Transplants.

Speaking of West, he was back to his old tricks during his "nomination acceptance" speech. I don't expect you to sit through it, even though I did, so here's the transcript:

If I don't win album of the year, I'm gonna...I'm really gonna have a problem with that.

I could NEVER talk myself out of it. You know why? Because I was in a studio, and I put in the work. I don't care if I jumped up and down on the couch right now like Tom Cruise, I don't care WHAT I do. I don't care how much I STUNT, you can never take away from the amount of WORK that I put into it.

So, I don't wanna hear all that politically correct stuff. You put the camera in front of me, I'm gonna tell you like this: I worked HARD to get here. I put my love, I put my heart, I put my money...I don't make that...I'm $600,000 in the hole right now on that album. And you tell me about being politically incorrect? People love these songs! You talk to someone whose grandmother just died and listens to "Roses." And you tell me about being politically incorrect.

I'm talking about HISTORY. I never got five mics in the Source, never got five stars from the Vibe. They said it's not a classic. So, Jesus Walks is not a classic? Roses is not a classic? Gold Digger wasn't song of the year?

50 Cent gets shot nine times and nobody can spare a bullet for this moron?

The Humpty Dance

Settle a debate for me...

My gym played a song yesterday that gave me such a start I almost dropped an 80-lb dumbbell on my testicles. When I remarked to the guy next to me that I'd almost sterilized myself, he helpfully let me know that the song in question was "My Humps" by the Black Eyed Peas.

Have you ever experienced one of those situations where you're blissfully unaware of something and then, just like that (in my best Verbal Kint voice), you can't get away from it? Predictably, I heard the song two more times yesterday, and have since disconnected every radio in the house to make sure I don't hear it again.

So where does the debate come in? I'm getting to it.

The Wife comes home as I'm yanking A/V cables out of the stereo and, understandably, asks me what the hell I'm doing. I describe my dilemma, but also put forth something else that worries me. Namely, that if intelligent life forms somewhere in the universe should happen upon a transmission of this song, they'll swoop down upon us and incinerate our planet like so many biology textbooks at a Kansas PTA rally.

Not so, retorted the missus. Perhaps - she said - just perhaps, they'd hear the song and, realizing we were obviously too intellectually stunted to pose a serious threat, leave us in peace. I had to admit, she made a valid point. I mean, would any technologically advanced society hear something like this and honestly have cause to fear us?

What u gon' do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I'm a make, make, make you scream
Make you scream, make you scream.
'Cause of my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump.

There is, of course, a third option: that the aliens in question are actually responsible for song in question. I can only surmise that their use of it is intended to melt our collective cerebral cortices to such an extent that we won't even notice when they descend on Earth and load us up to serve as slaves in their iridium mines.

The moral being, uh, society is doomed. And quit listening to the goddamn Black Eyed Peas.

"The most unusual place you've ever 'made whoopee?'"

Last week sucked. I don't say that often, friends, but Nov. 14-18 ranked right up there with past classics such as Did I Pass My Grad School Comprehensive Exams? and Waiting for the Health Department's Test Results.

For those who may have been disappointed after checking here for cogent discussion about recent current events and coming up empty, I apologize. To make it up to you, here's a list of the Greatest Songs Ever Written About Anal Sex, complete with occasional lyric samples that will prove my point. You're welcome.

"The Anal Staircase" - Coil
And the rapids of my heart
Will tear your ship of love apart
And we'll end up wrecked
We'll end up at the start
Of the anal staircase

"Hurts So Good" - John Cougar
Sometimes love don´t feel like it should
You make it hurt so good

"Prison Sex" - Tool
Actually, I don't need to contribute lyrics to this one, as there's not a hell of a lot of ambiguity involved. I will tell you that, at a job I had waiting tables at a "private dining club," one of the social directors asked me to look at some of her son's CDs and let her know if they were suitable listening for a 14 year-old. Not being a big fan of Tipper Gore, I told her Tool's Undertow album was just peachy.

"Jam Up and Jelly Tight" - Tommy Roe
You look a little naughty
But you're so polite
Jam up and jelly tight
You won't say you will but
There's a chance that you might

"Wrong Way" - Sublime
I gave her all that I had to give
But she still wouldn't take it, oh no
Her two brown eyes are leaking like a sieve

"Exit 109" - Dale Watson
109, 109
Easy to please, easy to find
Park it where the sun don't shine

"Mickey" - Toni Basil
So come on and give it to me anyway you can
Anyway you want to do it
I'll take it like a man

I Sit On Acid - Lords of Acid
The opening line is the really the only reference to our subject, but the repeated refrain of "I wanna sit on your face" has to count for something, right?

"Nothing to Lose" - KISS
Before I had a baby
I didn't care anyway
I thought about the back door
I didn't know what to say

But once I got a baby
I, I tried every way
She didn't wanna do it
But she did anyway

"I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)" - Meatloaf
Honestly, this one was suggested to me, and I have a hard time seeing how it meets the criteria. Is Meatloaf saying he'll do anything up to (but not including) anal when it comes to love? How is that a sacrifice on the part of his significant other?

"Back Door Santa" - Clarence Carter
Okay, the concept of a "back door man" is pretty old in blues music, and denotes a man who gets with the woman of a working man, necessitating his arrival and departure through the back door. I just include it here because the idea of Santa having "backdoor" relations with anyone was too disquieting for me not to share with everyone.

Happy Thanksgiving.

R.I.P. Chris Whitley

Seadogs alerted me earlier today to the sad news that Texas singer-songwriter Chris Whitley passed away last Sunday. He was 45 years old:

Chris Whitley, a chameleon Houston singer-songwriter who oscillated between roots rock 'n' roll, blues and alt-rock, has died. He was 45.

Whitley passed away Sunday evening, according to a message posted on his Web site by his daughter, Trixie Whitley.

Specifics were not available today. "No one saw this coming," his publicist of several years, Ben Sterling, told The Associated Press.

The singer was surrounded by his family and girlfriend before passing away, according to his Web site.

I confess to having lost track of Whitley since moving away from Texas in the mid '90s and then moving back. Many of my friends had copies of 1991's Living With the Law and Terra Incognita, among others, and we grew to love Whitley's singular style. I wish I'd seen him live one more time these past few years when he'd made appearances at the Continental Club, but there you are. Things always come up, and chances slip away without our ever knowing it.

Adios, Chris.

eBay That's Your Cue

God damn, I wish I had a thousand odd dollars for this, an electric guitar played at about 1000 Slobberbone gigs, put up for sale by Brent Best himself:

1979 Guild S-300D electric guitar. Used, scratched, worn, beat-up and abused and still kicks ass. I've had this guitar since 1995 and used it for the recording of all four Slobberbone albums, especially the first two. The sound of the crunch guitar on the Barrelchested album is this guitar through a small Hiwatt amp. Has also been used on every Slobberbone tour since 1995 (and that's a lot of shows). Still sounds friggin' great. The finish, as you can imagine, has taken a pounding and is worn and checked in most areas. The headstock was snapped off once and repaired well but without any effort to conceal the crack cosmetically (the guitar actually played and intonated better after the repair). All hardware and electronics are original to the guitar. The neck pickup is not working but I will either include with the auction an exact replacement for it or I can install it myself, it's up to you.

Obviously, this guitar is not any sort of collection piece unless you were into the band. If not, then it's simply a good rock guitar for someone who wants to play one and wants one cheap. I hate to sell it as it means a lot to me but I'm broke as a spoke and gotta get on thru. I have other gear and band-related auctions going as well if you're interested.

Buyer pays shipping and handling. Cashier's check, money order or Paypal only. Paypal prefered. Thanks and take care. That is all.

Brent's selling some other stuff as well, including one of the rare original versions of Crow Pot Pie. He hasn't hit the road with his new band, The Drams yet, so throw him some financial love if you can.

Thanks to Don for the link

Your favorite band sucks

Thanks to the wonders of satellite radio, I can convince myself I'm not that old. Case in point, I've actually heard of the majority of bands on Information Leafblower's list of the Top 40 Bands in American Today.

The list was compiled by a group of "music bloggers" (of whom Bol is the only one I actually read), so take it with whatever sized grain of salt you're accustomed.

Here's the list:

1 - Sufjan Stevens
2 - The National
3 - Kanye West
4 - LCD Soundsystem
5 - Sleater-Kinney

This is the first selection I actually agree with. "Entertain" is one of the best songs I heard this year.

6 - The Hold Steady

I don't do emo.

7 - Green Day

See above. The first song I heard off American Idiot was "Boulevard of Broken Dreams," which sent me into the fetal position, crying for mommy. "American Idiot" helped somehwat, and it's hard to argue against their inclusion, but man does that song suck.

8 - The Fiery Furnaces
9 - The Decemberists
10 - Spoon

It's not just the Tick's rallying cry any more.

11 - The Mountain Goats
12 - My Morning Jacket

I very much want to see MMJ live. They were one of the only bright spots in Cameron Crowe's latest movie.

13 - Fiona Apple
14 - Rogue Wave
15 - Bright Eyes

No offense to Rogue Wave, but the other two artists listed in this subgroup are among my least favorite. As such, I must consign them to eternal hellfire.

16 - Kelly Clarkson

As much as I want to hate the Original American Idol, she can wail. I hold out hope that she'll decide to pursue weightier material in the future.

17 - Death Cab For Cutie
18 - Animal Collective
19 - Ryan Adams

God damn Ryan Adams. God DAMN Ryan Adams. I had to begrudgingly acknowledge the talent behind Cold Roses, but I just downloaded Jacksonville City Nights, and wouldn't it have to be one of the best albums I've heard in 2005. If this guy showed a little restraint and only released an album a year, he'd be hailed as the greatest musician on the planet.

20 - Crooked Fingers

21 - Kings of Leon

I liked Youth and Young Manhood better, is all I'm saying.

22 - We Are Scientists
23 - Devendra Banhart
24) Okkervil River
25) MF Doom

Doom should've been higher than Kanye West. Then again, Ashlee Simpson should rank higher than Kanye West.

26 - Gwen Stefani

Please make another No Doubt album and shut up otherwise.

27 - Andrew Bird
28 - Black Keys
29 - Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin
30 - Two Gallants
31 - American Analog Set
32) Sunno)))
33) The Juan McLean
34) Giant Drag
35) Iron & Wine
36) Wilco

Jesus, I take back the "I am not old" comment. Who the hell are you people? When did you infiltrate my comfortable music scene? Why is Wilco only #36?

37 - Antony & the Johnsons

Tolerable, but that vibrato shit is incredibly annoying.

38 - Out Hud
39 - John Vanderslice

John Vanderslice is very good. I wanted to say "insanely awesome," but I wasn't quite drunk enough, and I wasn't sure everyone had heard this.

40 - Explosions In The Sky

Yeah, whatever.

What about you? Any opinions on our greatest bands?

Let there be Rock

Excerpt from a conversation during a family trip to Sam’s Club on Saturday to obtain ribs and beer for a long day of college football and barbecuing (Texas definition). The players: Pete – driving the car and spouting ill-formed opinions – and The Wife – tolerating my stream-of-consciousness rambling yet again. She Who Shall Not Be Named was seated in the back, doing her best to watch the passing scenery and ignore her old man:

Pete [turning up "Stairway to Heaven" on the radio]: Listen up #1 Daughter, this is the greatest rock and roll song of all time.
The Wife: You really believe that?
Pete: Are you telling me years of music magazine lists and radio station countdowns have been lying to me?
The Wife: Didn’t you used to believe jackalopes were real?
Pete: Jackalopes are real.

Debates over cryptozoology aside, I found myself pondering this question as we filled up the gas tank and I made a failed attempt to impress SWSNBN with my air guitar soloing.

On the way home, we tried coming up with some likely candidates (not to disqualify "Stairway," but it’s possible KLOL was mistaken just this once). Since "rock and roll" is such a huge category, I had sort of a hard time coming up with criteria (aside from "Knowing it when I hear it") to pare down likely "rock" candidates. I’d say the song in question should feature at least some electric guitar. And percussion. Beyond that, maybe some of you music types can help me out.

As far as our own choices went, we threw quite a few titles back and forth at each other before settling on "Me and Bobby McGee" (The Wife) and "Gimme Shelter" (or maybe "Tumblin’ Dice," or "Bastards of Young," or "Your Excuse," or...) for me. Anyone here who’s been married knows the futility of trying to reach consensus on such weighty issues, and we quickly decided to agree to disagree.

Janis Joplin? Blech.

So anyway, what do you think is the greatest rock and roll song of all time?

My secret public shame

I thoroughly enjoy the Sirius radio The Wife got me for Christmas last year. The few times I've listened to local radio in my car during the past year have been during severe weather situations and listening to the NLCS (Sirius rival XM has the Major League Baseball license).

You're allowed to save 30 channels on your presets, and mine are - I think - pretty varied. They skew heavily towards the "rock" category and away from newer music, but I'm not quite old enough to sneer at everything released in the last few years. Yet.

Of course, Sirius' conception of "rock" often differs from mine in significant ways. Take the Disorder channel, for example, which bills itself as "Eclectic/Free Form." First of all, I've discovered that "eclectic" is one of thse adjectives (like "cool" or "well-endowed") you can't apply to yourself. If someone looks at your CD collection/iTunes catalog and decrees it "eclectic," so be it, and Sirius should probably take this to heart, especially when they play Billy Joel's "Scenes From an Italian Restaurant" on a so-labeled channel. The last time Billy Joel was remotely "eclectic" was when he dressed like a barbarian on the Attila album cover.

Therefore, I demand a full and thorough accounting of who was in charge of programming that day. And I want a dimmer setting for the text display on my receiver. That way, when I'm singing along to the aforementioned song, everyone sitting at the traffic light with me won't point and laugh when they see what song is causing me to dork out in my car.

"Making midnight music in the moonlight. Mighty nice"

Quoth the Mudge:

Pete, you're a music guy. You wanna take a crack?

First, let's get one thing straight: I make far too much money to ever smoke crack. Having said that, I will take a stab at this thingamabob that seems designed to railroad me into admitting I like anything by Genesis or INXS. Plus, I cheat at these, so there will often be more than one song listed.

Onward...

Favorite Beatles song: Had to start off with an easy one, eh? I really like the "medley" at the end of Abbey Road that includes "Polythene Pam" "She Came In Through the Bathroom Window" and "Golden Slumbers," but that's probably not fair. "A Day in the Life" is the stock answer, so I'll go with "Nowhere Man."

Favorite solo song by a former Beatle: Lennon - "Watching the Wheels;" McCartney - "Band On the Run;" Harrison - Don't know enough of his solo stuff; Starr - Oh please

Favorite Rolling Stones song: Mudge gets this one right, "Gimme Shelter" all the way

Favorite Bob Dylan song: "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall" or "Shelter From the Storm." I sense a theme.

Favorite Pixies song: "Velouria"

Favorite Prince song: "I Would Die 4 U"

Favorite Michael Jackson song: A curious way of putting it. "Rock With You" is the song that fills me with the least revulsion, possibly because it was the last song of his I heard before realizing he was a freak on wheels.

Favorite Metallica song: "Disposable Heroes" or "Master of Puppets"

Favorite Public Enemy song: "Night of the Living Baseheads"

Favorite Depeche Mode song: "Halo"

Favorite Cure song: anything from Head on the Door, but especially "In Between Days" and "A Night Like This"

Favorite song that most of your friends haven't heard: I feel pretty confident in saying there isn't a song I could list here that someone who reads this blog wasn't already familiar with. If "most" is the criteria, I'll go with "Pinball Song" by Slobberbone.

Favorite Beastie Boys song: "Shadrach"

Favorite Police song: "Walking on the Moon" from their early days, "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" from their later, pretentious, Jungian Sting days.

Favorite Sex Pistols song: "Pretty Vacant"

Favorite song from a movie: Jesus...completely off the top of my head, I'd have to say Traffic's Blind Faith's "Can't Find My Way Home" from the end of Fandango. I'll remember about a thousand others as soon as I post this, however.

Favorite Blondie song: "Dreaming"

Favorite Genesis song: "No Reply At All"

Favorite Led Zeppelin song: Unlike Mudge, I used to be a big Zep fan. I don't listen to them much these days, but if forced to choose, I'd narrow it down to "Good Times Bad Times," "Since I've Been Loving You," and "Bron-Yr-Aur."

I bet that cow skull over there would make a wicked bong...

Favorite INXS song: "Don't Change." No competition there, as it's the only INXS song I like.

Favorite Weird Al song: Uh, "UHF?" Never was a fan.

Favorite Pink Floyd song: I should probably try to re-establish some classic rock cred here by saying "Careful With That Axe, Eugene" or something off Piper at the Gates of Dawn, but I've been listening to The Final Cut a lot lately, so I'm sticking with "The Gunner's Dream."

Or "Pigs."

Or "Comfortably Numb." Gilmour's second solo in that gives me chills to this day.

Damn, this is hard.

Favorite cover song: "Cortez the Killer" (Neil Young) by Slobberbone or "Everybody Knows" (Leonard Cohen) by Concrete Blonde.

Favorite dance song: It isn't actually my favorite, but I think it's hilarious that - no matter what the Country/Western dancing venue- every last redneck in the place will get on the floor for "Baby Got Back." If you haven't seen a couple hundred people in Rocky Mountains and Wranglers jerking spasmodically to Sir Mix-A-Lot, you have led a trite, meaningless existence.

Favorite U2 song: "Like A Song" from War.

Favorite disco song: Drawing a blank...I liked Homer's cover of "Staying Alive" in the "Two Bad Neighbors" episode, if that counts.

Favorite The Who song: "Behind Blue Eyes"

Did you know that thewho.com redirects you to petetownshend.com? What the fuck?

Favorite Elton John song: I honestly can't decide between "Tiny Dancer" and "My Father's Gun"

Favorite Clash song: "White Man in Hammersmith Palais." I feel obliged to point out that The Wife is partial to "Straight to Hell," and we usually compromise with "Train In Vain."

Favorite David Bowie song: "Young Americans"

Favorite Nirvana song: "In Bloom," I guess, I'm honestly pretty sick of Nirvana.

Favorite Snoop Dogg song: "Gin and Juice," and performed by The Gourds.

Favorite Ice Cube song: Having absolutely no familiarity with his solo stuff, I'll say "Straight Outta Compton."

Favorite Johnny Cash song: "Cocaine Blues," with his cover of NIN's "Hurt" coming in a close second.

Favorite R.E.M. song: "Harbourcoat" or "I Believe"

Favorite Elvis song: Hell if I know..."Return to Sender?"

Favorite cheesy-ass country song: "Hot Dog" by Led Zeppelin.

I've decided not to tag anyone with this, because goddamn if it didn't take me forever. Run with it, if you're so inclined.

"I knew a girl at school called Pandora. Never got to see her box, though."

The Music Genome Project has put together something called Pandora, where you enter the names of bands and/or songs you like, and you're provided with a customized radio station that - in theory - plays similar music that you should also find entertaining. You can also rate the individual songs as they're played, either "Play more like this" or "Never play this again." What you're left with, one assumes, is a jukebox that plays nothing but your favorite songs.

It's a laudable concept, but pretty easy to break. For example, my first entries were all fairly comparable: Slobberbone, the Drive-By Truckers, Whiskeytown, Uncle Tupelo. It wasn't too hard for Pandora to figure out I'd probably like Son Volt and the Bottle Rockets as well.

Time to mix it up. Since you can enter any number of bands or songs to further customize your station, I decided to add some heavier stuff: "Battery" by Metallica, "In My Darkest Hour" by Megadeth, the Misfits, some Iron Maiden.

That goofed things up a bit. Pandora seemed to think this meant I had a taste for newer "alt rock" like My Chemical Romance or Fall Out Boy, which is true, if by "taste" you mean I'd like to sever their jugulars with my teeth. After a frenzy of negative button clickings, it settled into a pattern of providing me with a steady stream of Motorhead and Robbie Fulks.

Much as I like "Ace of Spades," that really wasn't enough variety, and my free subscription was running out anyway, so I threw in some Book of Love and Level 42. That was about when the browswer quit on me.

But thanks anyway to Matt for the link.

Up the Irons

Maybe it's just as well Iron Maiden won't be along for the show when Ozzfest hits Houston this weekend (excessive capitalization courtesy of the anonymous backstage reporter):

"Saturday night's Ozzfest at the Hyundai Pavillion near Los Angeles was a debacle on so many levels, I am still in shock as I write this. As a fan of many of the bands [Saturday] night, one can only hope this was an isolated incident, but sadly, it most likely wasn't. As many of you have heard already, co-headliners and metal legends IRON MAIDEN were pelted with eggs, bottle caps, beer cups, spit on, had people from the Ozzfest camp talking over the PA during their set, had 'Eddie' delayed from his onstage entrance, had members of the [BLACK LABEL SOCIETY] entourage rush the stage with American flags, and had the PA intentionally turned off over six times, all by the OSBOURNE CAMP."

Apparently, Maiden singer Bruce Dickinson made some impolitic comments to Kerrang! magazine about the fact that Ozzy Osbourne (*gasp*) uses a teleprompter in concert. He also made some remarks at an earlier stop about "reality shows," leading Sharon Osbourne to engineer this retaliation last Saturday.

"Later that evening, as IRON MAIDEN came on stage, their intro was interrupted by [BLACK LABEL SOCIETY] hanger-on and biker wannabe Big Dave, who was at the soundboard loudly chanting 'Ozzy, Ozzy' over the PA. MAIDEN opened their set and the entire band was pelted from the front row with eggs, beer, beer cups, spit, and various other objects by an Ozzfest-credentialed, bandana-wearing, Osbourne entourage. IRON MAIDEN, ever the professionals, continued through their set, and by the time they launched into their second song, 'The Trooper', Bruce changed into a civil war-era, red coat and began waving a Union Jack — British flag. Then, someone in, or associated with, BLACK LABEL SOCIETY tried to rush the stage waving and American Flag with the words 'Don't fuck with Ozzy' scrawled across his bare chest. He was tackled and beaten by MAIDEN crew and promptly thrown off stage."

An American flag is, of course, the perfect way to show your support for Ozzy, who grew up on the mean streets of Birmingham...England.

I like Black Sabbath, and while I was always fairly ambivalent about solo Ozzy, the guy has no business being on the road anymore. That his wife continues to trot his doddering carcass out there every year in order to squeeze a few more dollars from him is probably the saddest thing about all the whole affair, especially when you consider that Ozzy himself probably had no idea any of this was going on.

Good thing Sharon came out after Maiden's set to smooth things over, right?

"Then, not 10 seconds after MAIDEN left the stage, Sharon Osbourne walked on stage and predictably, tried to give MAIDEN some fake, half-hearted praise about how they'd like to 'thank IRON MAIDEN,' and what a wonderful band IRON MAIDEN are, and how their crew were 'fantastic,' then sneering, 'But Bruce Dickinson is a prick.' The entire crowd, now fed up with the entire affair, began loudly booing her, pelting her with beer cups, and yelling 'bitch.' She tried to carry on, adding that 'Bruce had disrespected Ozzfest,' only to be drowned out by an ocean of boos, and soaked with beer. She slammed the microphone down and stormed off stage. Many in the crowd, fed up with what they had just witnessed, especially considering that many had come solely for MAIDEN, and paid upwards of $150 to do so, left in droves. SABBATH played to maybe half the audience that was there prior."

This shit cracks me up. It's like the WCW, only with uglier dudes.

Then again, the only reason I was considering going (and back when I thought they were on the bill) was to see Iron Maiden, who has been the critical darling of the festival. And while I'm exceeedingly disappointed they won't be coming to Houston this time around, it's probably for the best. Now I have an excuse not to go at all, and I can always look forward to Maiden's 2006 tour.

Which will be one concert where I won't be vying for the Oldest Guy in Attendance award.

"Somewhere in Finland, there is a father that needs to take the flat side of a broadsword to his child’s behind."

Earlier this year, I posted a quick entry about Ruthless Reviews' 10 Most Ridiculous Black Metal Pics of All Time. Demand for a sequel was unrelenting, and happily, they've obliged with this follow-up (Warning: #1 is definitely NSFW, and #5 might be).

The commentary is still pretty juvenile, but when you're dealing with pictures like these, it's understandable. Besides, much of it is hilarious. My favorite lines:

"Wait a minute, since when was it cool to have a fucking gimp in your band!? A BLACK METAL GIMP!!"

[and]

Nobody LARPs quite like Rob, and I mean nobody. He’s probably got enough LARP gear in his closet to reenact the battle of Helms Deep

Ready, set...Knit

Just saw this show listed on the Continental Club website:

THURSDAY
August 25
THE KNITTERS
with DAVE ALVIN, JOHN DOE, EXENE, D J BONEBREAK, JONNY RAY BARTELL
+ special guest PHRANC opening the show

Showtime 9pm

Phranc? Whatever.

I have to say that this sounds like a jim-dandy of a show. For those not up to speed, the Knitters were the country music side project comprising the members of X and ex-Blaster Dave Alvin. I can think of worse ways to spend a summer evening than throwing back a few Lone Stars and hearing "Call of the Wreckin' Ball" (and maybe a few X covers as well) in person.

"Well, Bob, I can relate. I know my best friends used to charge me thirty-five bucks to watch them dick around on guitar."

Big day, history-wise. 60th anniversary of the Nagasaki bombing. 36th anniversary of the Tate-LaBianca murders. And the 10th anniversary of the death of Jerry Garcia.

Seeing as how I don't want to get into my feelings about whether or not the bomnbing of Nagasaki was justified (it was), or whether Axl Rose is an asshole for wearing that Manson shirt on MTV (he is), and seeing as how this is a blog dedicated to pop culture related smart-assery, let's talk Jerry.

First of all, I'm not a fan of the Dead. Their music just never grew on me like it did some of my friends, including my sophomore roommate "Iggy." Iggy still managed to convince me and our other roommate to go to Houston for a Dead show in 1988, which we attended in an acceptably...enhanced fashion.

I have few memories of the show itself, except for walking out of the concert area of the Summit at one point and barreling into a troupe of people swirling around me. I bravely offered up my wallet before I realized a mugging wasn't imminent. After the show, however, as we were making our way back to the parking garage, Iggy realized he'd lost his car keys. Attempts to get back into the Summit were fruitless, so we shlepped dejectedly to the parking garage, wondering how the hell we were going to get back to Austin. It wasn't until we'd gotten to Iggy's car that we realized he'd left the keys in the trunk. His comment? "Only at a Dead show could you leave your keys hanging from your car and not get it stolen."

My retort? "Only a Deadhead would be so stoned that they forgot the goddamned things in the first place." Still, he had a good point. I doubt our luck would've been as good had we just come out of a Slayer concert.

That bout of feel-goodism aside, the Dead always seems to turn some people into obsessives, and this same thing happened to Iggy - he became incapable of playing anything else on our stereo - and several of my friends at UT, who did the truly original thing and followed them around on tour. I hooked up with them when on a swing through Texas and it was one of the most pathetically hilarious experiences of my life. Pathetic because I was also dealing with post-graduation unemployment. Hilarious because I knew I had the drop on these patchouli-smelling goofballs who'd spent the last 6 months cultivating body hair and destroying brain stem function.

That's all I've got. Oh, I never much cared for his ice cream, either.

Guten tag

Melanie sees fit to tag me with a blog meme, and I'm powerless to resist, seeing as how her baby is, like, five days overdue and I don't want to stress her out any further:

List ten songs that you are currently digging ... it doesn't matter what genre they are from, whether they have words, or even if they're no good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying right now. Post these instructions, the artists, and the ten songs in your blog. Then tag five other people to see what they're listening to.

Whew. I'm glad that disclaimer about not having to be good was in there. Taking a cursory look at the "most played" list on iTunes and my "Memo" songs on Sirius, I came up with:

1. Kathleen Edwards - "In State" -- If I was single, and she was single, and there was any way I could approach her without looking like a complete and utter dork, I'm fairly confident she'd spit whiskey in my face anyway. It'd be worth it, for this is one of the best songs I've heard in recent memory.

2. Coldplay- "Talk" -- Oh, go soak your head. I've heard most of X&Y, and this is by far my favorite song on it.

3. Thomas Dolby - "One of Our Submarines" -- Beats me. It's been in my rotation quite a lot lately, for some reason.

4. Fountains of Wayne - "Sink to the Bottom" -- "Stacy's Mom" is great, but this and "Radiation Vibe" are still my favorite FoW songs.

5. Rammstein - "Du Hast" -- My German is just good enough to assure me this is some sort of weird love song and not, for example, a rallying cry to retake Alsace from the French.

6. Drive-By Truckers - "Carl Perkins' Cadillac" -- No list is complete without a little DBT. I wish these guys were coming back to Houston soon.

7. Bad Religion - "The Empire Strikes First" -- Bad Religion is kind of like Social Distortion, in that I don't know if it's necessary to own more than two or three of their albums. This song seems particularly appropriate these days, however.

8. Keane - "Somewhere Only We Know" -- This one's on its way out, but it's a great one to sing at top volume in the car, because the guy's voice is only slightly better than mine. Poor bastard.

9. Dresden Dolls - "Coin-Operated Boy" -- I know, I'm like a year behind everybody else.

10. Robbie Fulks - "Fuck This Town" -- Or eight years, as the case may be. Up there with Hank III's "Trashville" as one of the best songs about Music City, USA.

I hate passing these things along, but I don't want to break the chain and - I dunno - die of candirú infestation or something. So 'Mudge, Elisson, Vespa, Chuck, and Ginger, come on down.

Songs You Shouldn't Sing in Public, No Matter How Quietly, Pt. 1

I have the often unfortunate habit of singing when I don't think anybody's around. If I'm overheard, the worst that usually happens is pointing and laughing, followed by not-so-constructive criticism of my vocal skills. Occasionally, I'm caught singing something that - to me - seems fairly innocuous, but this is generally because I've listened to the song in question upwards of a hundred times and any initial shock value has long since worn off. Some songs, however, are never a good idea to try out in public. Such as:

"Bullet" by the Misfits
"Jet Boy Jet Girl" by the Damned
"The Ballad of Charles Whitman" by Kinky Friedman
"The Lemon Song" by Led Zeppelin
"GDMFSOB" by S.O.D.
"Piss Up a Rope" by Ween
"Total Eclipse of the Heart" - the Dan Band version
"Spice Up Your Life" by the Spice Girls
"Night of the Living Baseheads" by Public Enemy, and not just because of the "dorky white guy singing PE" factor
"I Hope You Die" by the Bloodhound Gang

Trust me on this.

Ragnarok n' Roll

That was the subject line used by The Thing That Walks Like a Man for his e-mail notifying me about this guy's upcoming Houston show, and I didn't think I could come up with anything better. "Hammer of the Gods?" "Buffalo Mjolnir?" "A Norse With No Name?" Forget about it

Jon Mikl THOR is an enduring icon of glam rock/metal, and one of the true originators of rock theatre. THOR's enviable career got off the ground with his appearance on the Merv Griffin Show in 1973 and he has maintained a steady pace ever since, selling hundreds of thousands of records.

With a ringing endorsement like that, how can I lose? He'll be at Rudyard's August 20. Who's with me?

I mean, he can't be any worse than Odin, that other Aesir-inspired band with the ass-baring lead singer from The Decline of Western Civilization Pt. 2: The Metal Years.

And in the interest of completism, here's some guy's list of bands with Norse names.

When bad writing happens to "good" music

I'm asking for it by posting this, since it's only a matter of time before someone does something similar with movie critics, but The Shins Will Change Your Life is pretty hilarious. It's nothing but excerpts from fawning music reviews, with no other commentary. Here are a couple of my favorites (both from Pitchfork, coincidentally):

Hearing "Hide and Seek" at the climax of The O.C.'s second season finale was one of those pull-over-to-the-side-of-the-road moments where space and time collapse and the world holds its breath.

I don't know if driving while watching TV is such a good idea. And if space and time are collapsing, I don't think holding your breath is going to do much good.

And then there's...

Young Liars is a phantom Frankenstein, a bulletproof yet sensitive creature reared through unmitigated nurture that seemed to reap havoc where it never stepped.

"What the hell does that mean, 'China is here?' I don't even know what the hell that means!" - Jack Burton

Via MetaFilter

Figures

"Live 8: The World is Watching"

Me: "Yeah, but they're not seeing shit."

Wow, I get all of Will Smith's speech, but nothing approaching a complete song? The coverage yesterday was atrocious, with songs cut off halfway through and endless shots of MTV's "Sway" and wozhername blathering on and on about the "historicalness" of the event. Oh, and did we mention Kanye West had to fly in from another gig to perform?

Kanye West was the funniest part of the whole day, with his deadpan recitation of the "AIDS was manufactured to kill the black man" conspiracy theories and explanation of how lyrics about "wanting the ice" really have relevance to the situation of the African poor. They spent 30 minutes on this imbecile, while playing 1/2 of every song from other acts and talking over the Pink Floyd reuinion, which - and I don't care if you don't like PF - was easily the biggest musical headline of the day. Certainly a much bigger deal than Green Day butchering "We Are the Champions" or Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend going through the motions with their session men and trying to ignore Keith Moon hocking lungers on them from heaven.

This might have been, as the media are calling it, the "greatest concert event in history," but you wouldn't know it from yesterday's reportage. If the G-8 leaders were actually watching on Saturday, I'd be more afraid they might cancel debt relief solely because they're worried Africa might turn into the same collection of self-obsessed consumer whores on display on MTV and VH1.

As an aside, it was comforting to see the longest running FCC violation in history continuing in full force on ABC, which aired the Who's "Who Are You" - just like countless classic rock stations beforehand - with the line "Who the fuck are you?" played in its entirety after the network repeatedly bleeped both Green Day and Jay-Z.

It's a-Live

Slightly related to my upcoming concert post below, I notice there hasn't been anything here about Live 8, the series of concerts designed to convince the G-8 countries to increase aid to Africa.

Then again, if there was anything here about it, it'd be kind of creepy, because I didn't write it[1].

Like I said, tenshows. The only U.S. one is in Philadelphia, just like last time, although I understand MTV and VH1 will be providing coverage tomorrow afternoon. It's just as well I'm nowhere near Pennsylvania, as the lineup isn't exactly something I can see myself sitting through:

* Alicia Keys
* Black Eyed Peas
* Bon Jovi
* Dave Matthews Band
* Def Leppard
* Destiny's Child
* Jay-Z
* Josh Groban
* Kaiser Chiefs
* Keith Urban
* Linkin Park
* Maroon 5
* P Diddy
* Rob Thomas
* Sarah McLachlan
* Stevie Wonder
* Toby Keith

Toby Keith? Keith Urban? Freaking P Diddy? Only the Johannesburg show sounds less appealing, and that because I haven't heard of any of the acts. The UK gig looks to be the winner, with the likes of U2, Paul McCartney, a reformed Pink Floyd, and R.E.M.

The 1985 Live Aid concert had a little more equilibrium. Sure, U.S. audiences had to suffer through Rick Springfield, Bryan Adams, Simple Minds, and the Power Station, but we also got Judas Priest, Neil Young, Run-DMC, and Black Sabbath. The Brits got Elvis Costello, U2 and McCartney (again), the Who, and Queen - still tops on my list of bands for which I wish I had a working Wayback Machine .

In a great example of suckage detente, both crowds had to endure Phil Collins.

The Live Aid DVD was released recently, and I have yet to check it out. I still have my homemade six-hour VHS copy, you see. Some friends came over to my place that fine summer's day 20 years ago, as ours was one of the few households with cable at the time, and vegged out while taping the show. I busted the tape out recently and was staggered by its worthlessness. Oh, the quality is fine, but for every three songs you'd get five minutes of VJ banter and 15 minutes of commercials.

We're going to TiVo the proceedings this afternoon, and while I don't have high hopes about the quality of MTV's hosts (not that I know who any of them are these days) or the network's restraint in re: advertising, at least the fast forward button has greater speed.

[1] The blog is coming from inside the house! Get out of the house!

I hear music

Haven't done one of these in a while, but what the hell. As the summer kicks into high gear, I found myself checking on upcoming tour dates for the Houston area. There are a number of decent shows coming up, as well as some acts who are bypassing us entirely, for some reason. I mean, it's unfathomable to me that someone might not want to visit Swamp Town in July or August.

Anyway, here are some of the ones I'm thinking of checking out:

Split Lip Rayfield - July 9, Continental Club: I realize this is the same night as the 1st Annual APCB Beerfest, so unless I'm still ambulatory around 11 PM, this one's a long shot. Maybe I can split a cab with someone.

Flametrick Subs - July 23, Continental Club: Texas style psycho-billy, with visual accompaniment by Satan's Cheerleaders. This is always a fun show. Bring the parents!

Junior Brown - July 30, McGonigel's Mucky Duck: A chance to see Brown and "Big Red," his double-necked acoustic/steel guitar, is a treat. The Duck seems like a bit of a subdued venue for him, however.

Robbie Fulks - August 9, McGonigel's Mucky Duck: I enjoy an unrepentant smart-ass, and Fulks certainly qualifies. He's a good musician, too. I'm actually surprised I haven't caught him live before.

System of a Down - August 13, Woodlands Pavillion: Meh. I already had this in the low probability column due to it being an outdoor concert in August (an honor I'm reserving for one show this year), but then I saw...

The Gourds - August 13, Continental Club: We've been trying to catch another Gourds show for years, ever since we saw them open for the Old 97s in '99, but something's always come up. We'll see what happens this time.

Ozzfest - August 27, Woodlands Pavillion: I'm planning on laying low until the last two acts: Iron Fucking Maiden and Black Sabbath. Then I'm cowering behind a dumpster until the crowds disperse. This also might be the last chance I have to see Ozzy before they have to wheel the bastard out on stage in an iron lung.

UPDATE: As Joni so helpfully (and infuriatingly) pointed out in the comments, Maiden stops touring with Ozzfest on August 20, replaced with...Velvet Revolver. Seeing as how I'm unlikely to make it to England for the Reading Festival, it would appear I'm screwed. Drag.

The rest of these are improbables, as they all take place in big venues and are acts I've either seen before or have only middling interest in checking out:

John "Don't Call Me Cougar" Mellencamp & John Fogerty - September 10, Woodlands Pavillion: I'd leave after the opening act, probably, and I'd only go to hear some CCR songs.

Robert Plant - October 10, Verizon Wireless Ampitheater: Basshole and I saw Jimmy Page back in...1990? And he played "Stairway to Heaven." You'd think Plant would have to dust off some of the old Zep chestnuts. And speaking of chestnuts, I hope his pants are a little baggier this time around than they were in The Song Remains the Same.

(this one's for "seadogs") Jackopierce - November 12, Birchmere, Washington DC: I was never that big a fan of these guys, but they had a huge and rabid following here in Texas. So much so I'd often have to feign interest in them in order to get an "in" with members of the opposite sex.

The Rolling Stones - December 1, Toyota Center: Yes, the band that once mocked the Who for fattening their wallets by going out on another tour (and this back in 1989) are dragging their rapidly ossifying bones onstage - again - to bilk us out of more money. I'm only going if I can score free tickets and peg Mick Jagger with a befouled Depends.

Finally, here are some of the bands who aren't coming to Houston this summer, many of whom I'd really like to check out:

Devo - Saw them at a show on my birthday in 1988 in Austin, would've liked to see them again.
Elvis Costello & Emmylou Harris
Sleater-Kinney - I'e noticed a trend among many left-leaning groups to eschew Texas in general and Houston in particular. Wonder why that is. Then again, maybe Oregonians melt when it gets above 95.
Lucinda Williams
Kathleen Edwards (sort of Lucinda Lite, I know, but throw me a bone)
The White Stripes
Brian Wilson - Okay, so I have more of a morbid curiosity about this one. I.e. I'm wondering exactly what it would take to send the guy back to his sand-filled living room
Def Leppard - Right, Fort Worth and El Paso get tour dates but not us? Not like I really care (I haven't paid much attention to DL since 1983), but it's the principle of the thing.
Anger Management Tour - Okay, odds are I wouldn't have gone to this one, but Houston has a great hip-hop scene right now, which makes the fact that Eminem, 50 Cent, and company are blowing us off for Dallas a little hard to understand.

Good rockin', everyone.

At least it wasn't "I Wanna Sex U Up"

Three days spent doing little besides drinking beer and swimming mean I'm up against it today. In other words, any more updates are unlikely until late, late tonight/early tomorrow.

There is one thing I want to get off my chest, however. If you're one of these young, snotty bands inspired (like thousands of others) by the success of Green Day and Limp Bizkit, who think it's time to take a crack at recording a cover or two, please try to remember a few things:

1. Bring something new to the song. Straight up renditions of tunes made popular by other artists aren't going to set you apart from the masses of wannabe Ramones out there. At the very least, bring a little levity. The Ataris really dropped the ball on their irony-free do-over of Don Henley's "The Boys of Summer."

2. At the same time, try not to let a cover define you as a band. I thought Alien Ant Farm's "Smooth Criminal" was pretty amusing, but they never should have allowed that to be the first single from their first album. They might as well just play that as the opeing song at every concert from here on and out and give everyone to chance to duck out and go home to catch SportsCenter.

3. Don't try to tackle a song you don't have the chops to handle. I'm looking at you, My Chemical Romance/The Used. It's bad enough that they decided to take on "Under Pressure" by Queen and David Bowie, but none of the vocalists involved can come within ten miles of Freddie Mercury, or even two miles of Bowie. And then they try to make up for it by using that same disaffected suburban white boy snarl that makes almost all music of that ilk unlistenable. Bad show, lads.

I'm not going to do an entirely new covers post, but of the ones I've heard recently, I can recommend "Jolene" by the White Stripes and "Gin and Juice" by the Gourds.

The latter isn't exactly recent, but I can always recommend it.

Annual fitness-related posting

On Fridays, my gym is usually pretty empty. The only people who feel the need to subject themselves to torture with the weekend looming are those so far gone they need every minute's worth of exercise they can get, and the uber-narcissists who harbor secret fears that missing even one day will turn their finely honed lats into saggy back jowls.

I'll leave it as an exercise to the reader to decide which of these categories best describes yours truly.

We also get a variety of music played there. Most of the time it's some variety of top 40 or whiny angst rock. Last Friday, however, someone in the front desk area apparently felt like giving their "Best" of '80s Ballads CD a spin. Believe it or not, White Lion's "When the Children Cry" is not the best tune for getting through those last couple reps on the incline bench.

A few of us gathered around the preacher bench to discuss the situation. All agreed the situation was rapidly becoming untenable (Kenny Rogers and Jennifer Warnes had just come on), but there was still the distinct possibility the current selection could be replaced with something worse, like techno. Personally, I have nothing against techno, I even like some of it, but it's lousy weightlifting music. The rapidity of the beats and repetitive melody line makes it useful for aerobics and other forms of bouncing torture, but renders it awful for much else.

One guy decided to bite the bullet and request a change. I'm glad he did it, because some of those women behind the desk look like they could crush my skull, Roy Baty-style. Happily, they agreed to our request, this time. Soon enough, some Power Station song everyone has heard 10,000 times before came on, and we went back to our futile efforts to fool ourselves into thinking we weren't all going to die one day.

Happy Monday.

Thoughts while listening to an 80's internet radio station

When Brent Best of Slobberbone made the comment, "I've always said that if we ever overcome the stigma of our name, we'll know that we've truly arrived," he must have been unaware of the existence of the Blow Monkeys.

"Take my hand in your glove of love"

"Go ahead Homer. Laugh at me."
"I already did."

When The Thing That Walks Like a Man sent me this link, which details the worst album covers of all time, I assumed the usual suspects would be on display (Mike Crain the "Karatist" Preacher is a personal favorite). Little did I know how it would ignite a soon-to-be firestorm of controversy over Kirk Van Houten's plagiarism:

For shame, Kirk. As if the bastard child of the union between Willie Aames and the lead singer for Saga doesn't have enough problems.

Where there's a Wilco

One of my biggest musical regrets is skipping out on an Uncle Tupelo show in Austin back in '91 because I had the flu. Had I known at the time that I would be out of the state every other time they came back to Texas before breaking up, I would've cheerfully infected everyone else in the place just so I could see them live. Hey, that's the kind of humanitarian I am.

As most of you know, two bands came out of the breakup of Tupelo: Jay Farrar formed Son Volt and Jeff Tweedy started Wilco. Son Volt has split up and reformed and is still around, though largely under the mainstream radar, while Wilco and Tweedy have become critical darlings. This is thanks in part to their constant experimentation as Tweedy distanced himself from his twang roots, and also to the band's very public problems with Reprise Records, who dumped them after deciding their album Yankee Hotel Foxtrot was too goddamn weird.

Scott Faingold has an article on the band in this week's Houston Press discussing the dilemma faced by their fans:

The electronic noise breaks and guitar freakouts on the most recent Wilco CD, A Ghost Is Born, make the sonic excesses of Yankee Hotel seem mild in comparison, alienating as many fans as they thrill. As for peers and critics, ADD-suffering alt-country poster boy Ryan Adams goes out of his way to attack Wilco in interviews every chance he gets, and in a review of another band a few months back, the Houston Press's own John Nova Lomax felt compelled to accuse Wilco's fans of liking them out of a "misguided sense of hipster duty."

(B)Ryan Adams can eat fuck, as far as I'm concerned, but that's neither here nor there. I understand Lomax's point, if only because I was such a huge Tupelo fan and because I still think A.M., Wilco's first album, is one of the finest things I've ever heard (right up there with Strangers Almanac by Whiskeytown - Adams' old band, maddeningly enough). From that perspective, I have a hard time getting on board with their latest releases.

Not that I begrudge them their new stuff, you understand. Change isn't a bad thing, but distancing yourself from the sound that caused your fans to seek you out in the first place is a good way to alienate them. Sometimes you can get away with it (U2 is as popular as ever), other times not (KISS' ill-conceived foray into disco, for example). Besides, there are plenty of bands out there who make variations of the same album over and over again (I call them Social Distortion) and maintain the same level of success. Whatever floats your boat.

And I happen to like Social Distortion.

Things are at an exciting point for Wilco as a musical entity. One of the most controversial elements of A Ghost Is Born is the presence of lengthy, anarchic guitar solos, performed by Tweedy himself. More evocative than skilled, rambunctious and occasionally atonal, they call to mind nothing so much as an amalgam of White Light/White Heat-era Velvet Underground, My War-period Black Flag and Neil Young at his wildest, all in the service of Tweedy's highly arranged pop-rock chamber pieces, which happen to sound nothing like any of these three influences.

When the author mentions two of my least favorite albums in referring to this one, I think my decision's made for me. I haven't really enjoyed a Wilco album wire to wire since A.M., though both Being There and Summerteeth had moments of stupefying brilliance. So while I wish Wilco continued success and Tweedy continued good health, I don't think I'll be picking up Ghost anytime soon.

Whether you blindly worship or reflexively reject the whole Wilco thing, one matter is clear: This is a band facing stubbornly forward, marketing itself through all available channels yet unwilling to trim its explorations. Does this make them the most commercially successful avant-garde band ever, or just pretentious wankers daring their fans to lose patience and consign them to the dungpile of history?

Due respect to Faingold, I don't really see it as cut and dried as all that. My "rejection" of their new sound isn't knee-jerk, it's simply a result of not really enjoying it. I can respect the direction they've decided to take without thinking their new music is, y'know, all that good.

If they are just being pretentious wankers, however, they can pull up a chair with Ryan Adams.

Judy Judy Judy

Famed(?) early '80s new wave band The Judys reunited to play for the first time in 10 years last Saturday night as a benefit for a childhood friend of theirs who has cancer. My friend Alan knows bassist Jeff Walton (now a film and TV composer, BTW), and he e-mailed me last week to see if I was interested in seeing them play in the auditorium of their old elementary school in Pearland (now an annex of Alvin Community College). After hashing out the details of beer availability, I was in.

The Judys recorded only two full-length studio albums: Washarama in 1981 (when the band members were still in high school), and Moo in 1985. When they played at Club Foot in Austin in '81, R.E.M. opened for them. I didn't really get into the band until 1984 or thereabouts, and caught them once in 1985 (at Dr. G's in College Station, for those who care about such things). Peenman and I went halfsies on an LP copy of Washarama and, as far as I know, he still has it. And has for the last fifteen years.

But that's okay, because I got to see them live Saturday night. The show was great. They ran through pretty much their entire catalog (which isn't too hard when the average song length is 1:45), the props were in full effect, and the crowd - which wasn't as big as I was expecting, probably owing to the invite-only nature of the gig - were very into it. But don't take my word for it, check out the pics after the bump.

Generic band shot (click for larger version):

"And all I get is static:"

David rocks his high-tech synth setup for "Rerun:"

Insert obligatory Walken joke here:

A shot from stage right:

The beach ball is back: "Her Wave:"

Not so tiny bubbles:

One of the few songs my mother forbade me to play in the house[1], "Guyana Punch:"

And the aftermath:

"Milk" was one of the encores, with appropriate Moo-themed garb:

I didn't keep a setlist, but in addition to those listed above, I remember "Man on a Windw Ledge," "Mental Obsession," "Girls! Girls! Girls!," "Grass is Greener," and "Perfect Crime."

And one of the most disturbing images I've ever seen was dozens of kids rushing the stage to be doused with water during "Guyana Punch."

It's funny, Alan asked me if it felt like a flashback, to which I replied with a movie quote (which is what passes for intelligent conversation among my kind): "It was as if everyone had swelled." Less disturbing to me than the fact that the median age of those in the crowd was in the upper 30s was that some had actually gone so far as to dress as if it were still 1982. This was generally a bad idea.

Then again, we did have to drink in the parking lot. So in that respect it was very much like high school.

On the plus side, it was the first live music event I'd attended in the last five years where I felt like I might've had a legitimate shot with some of the women there. Soccer moms...all right.

I mentioned to a few people there that I couldn't believe they aren't planning on playing some more shows to raise more money. They could easily sell out Numbers three nights in a row, or reopen Rockefeller's for a weekend. Charge $10 a head, get a percentage of the bar, and bingo: $50,000.

And I suspect a couple of out-of-town APCB readers might even make the trip to Houston to catch them.

[1] "Too Drunk to Fuck" was, for whatever reason, just peachy.

Bad brain

Driving home from last night's screening of Miss Congeniality 2 (like the first, only less Shatner*), Vandenberg's "This Burning Heart" came on Sirius' Hair Nation channel. I had, literally, not heard this song since 1984.

I remembered every damn word.

Yeah yeah, big deal: we're not talking Umberto Eco here. Still, as I sat there, rocketing down the freeway and belting out "When you play the game/Of love" (the word "love" stretched out over three syllables), I once again had the chance to ponder all the important information that never took hold in my brain because that valuable space was occupied by - for example - Vandenberg lyrics.

Like I said way back when I started this blog, the pop culture detritus is the stuff I retain. I made my stab at the serious life many moons ago, but always had an easier time remembering the lyrics of Gram Parsons rather than the writings of Graham Allison. This bugged me for a while, until I realized that, uh, *not* reviewing bad movies and discussing the dorkier aspects of our society meant the terrorists win. Or something.

And I also remember all the lyrics to Double's "The Captain of Her Heart." Take that, PSc 261 - Advanced Study of Liminal Societies.

* While you might put something like that in the movie's plus column, I consider it a horrendous mistake.

Wack in black

My fondness for heavy metal never extended to its Satanic offshoot known as black metal. I had a friend in college who played a lot of Candlemass and Celtic Frost, but it was never my cup of tea. If pressed for actual reasons, I'd have to say I wasn't that big on barked vocals, sludgy guitars, and songs about setting fire to heaven.[1] If that's your thing, more power to you.

It was never about the way they dressed, however.

Over at Ruthless Reviews, they have a list of the 10 Most Ridiculous Black Metal Pics of All Time. As with that page of Swedish band postacards or The Hall of Douchebags, these are priceless. Mike from Hobart's commentary isn't bad either. A sample:

Immortal take the number two spot with this pic, and for good reason. LOOK AT THOSE FUCKING SHIN GUARDS! Since when did Satan have his own ice hockey team?

and

And three, for Frost's homemade arm bands complete with 10" carpentry nails. Seriously, it looks like he punched a fucking porcupine to death.

Of course, you could just as easily make a similar list about '80s hair bands. Now there's an idea.

[1] This applies to KISS songs as well

"Hawaii? Goddamn it, Bill, I'm supposed to be in California."

Anyone else checked out the lineup for this year's Coachella Valley Music Festival? Here's a sampling:

Saturday - April 30
Bauhaus
Weezer
Cocteau Twins
Wilco
Keane
Mercury Rev
Spoon

Sunday - May 1
Nine Inch Nails
New Order
Gang of Four
Prodigy
Black Star
The Arcade Fire
Tegan and Sara

Not only that, but one of my new favorite bands, the cabaret-pop duo Dresden Dolls, will be playing as well. "Coin-Operated Boy" is my current earworm of choice. If such a thing exists.

Leaving me to content myself with Two Cow Garage and the Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash at SXSW, I guess.

Anyway, if you're going to California for Coachella, I hate you and everything you stand for. Have a wonderful time.

How to get out of my CD rotation

The Fixx were always on the second or third tier of bands I listened to during my salad days of youth. Their music and videos were quirky enough to make me feel vaguely iconoclastic about listening to them, but they weren't exactly lyrically or musically challenging. All the same, I owned two of their records, either of which I'd play as a palate cleanser between repeated spins of the Repo Man soundtrack.

Because I decided at some point in the last ten years not to try and replace every LP I owned with CDs, I declined to purchase digital copies of Shuttered Room or Reach the Beach. I did, however, get a copy of 1989's One Thing Leads to Another, their greatest hits. It had a fair representation of their songs (the ones I was likely to want to hear, that is), including live versions of "Stand or Fall" and "Red Skies."

I should have known better. Live albums are always disappointing, because listening to a concert on CD is like watching someone else's homemade sex tapes: deeply unsatisfying and vaguely annoying. As a big fan of the studio version of "Stand or Fall," the first indications I had of something amiss were Cy Curnin's repeated ad-libs. Call me anal, but this isn't a U2 concert...keep your stream of consciousness BS out of my song. Worse, he actually had the gall include this line:

Stand or fall
State your piece tonight
Stand or fall
Let's keep it straight
For the children!

Back on the rack with you, my man. Any commentary about doing something "for the children" has no place in polite society unless heavily inflected with sarcasm or uttered by Helen Lovejoy.

"All I wanted was a measly sandwich."

Reluctant as I've been to do it, I've finally gotten around to reviewing Enjoy Every Sandwich, the Warren Zevon tribute album. Please read with the knowledge that I, unlike other entertainment writers, don't really do music reviews. If you want competence in that regard, please go read Melanie's stuff. She's paid to do this kind of thing, after all.

"Searching for a Heart" - Don Henley
Sounds like something that didn't make the cut from the Building the Perfect Beast sessions. I'm not very fond of the minimalist arrangement, either. Not a promising start.

"Werewolves of London" - Adam Sandler
Surprisingly, this is not that bad. Sandler reins in his usual shtick, and really sounds like he's trying to do right by the original (with a few stupid stylistic exceptions). He's not entirely successful, but he deserves credit for trying.

"Reconsider Me" - Steve Earle and Reckless Kelly
This is what a little more like what I was hoping for. Earle may not be to everyone's tastes, but he doesn't try to ape Zevon's sentiment, and puts an earthier spin on things. And with nice backing from the Braun brothers. The best effort so far.

"Poor, Poor Pitiful Me" - Jackson Browne and Bonnie Raitt
I realize Browne and Zevon were boys, but they were also pretty much night and day personality and style-wise. Browne's voice is soothing enough, but that's the last thing this song needs. Raitt is more to my liking.

"My Ride's Here" - Bruce Springsteen
Ugh. The Boss at his worst Jersey elocution. Almost sounds like he's parodying himself.

"Lawyers, Guns, and Money" - The Wallflowers
No. Absolutely not. One of Zevon's greatest songs deserves better than these snooze rock douchebags are capable of delivering. I suspect this was only included in the lineup because Jakob Dylan's daddy shows up later on the album. Atrocious.

"Studebaker" - Jordan Zevon
A previously unreleased tune gets decent treatment from Zevon's son. Granted, his voice sounds more suited to mainstream country, but this isn't bad.

"The Wind" - Billy Bob Thornton
It's only fair that the worst singer on the album gets the weakest song. As a vocalist, Thornton is one hell of an actor.

"Splendid Isolation" - Pete Yorn
Bad move. This is a song about urban desolation and desperation...giving it to today's standardbearer for mopey slack rock is all wrong. And I say this as a Pete Yorn fan.

"Mutineer" - Bob Dylan
Dylan does as decent a vocal job as he has on anything in the last twenty years or so. Which is to say, not much. Not awful, but comes across lazy, and that's worse.

"Monkey Wash, Donkey Rinse" - David Lindley & Ry Cooder
Lindley and Cooder twist this one up nicely without completely mucking it up. Well done, but who thought "MW,DR" was one of Zevon's best?

"Don't Let Us Get Sick" - Jill Sobule
Sobule is all wrong for a song that should come across as the self-composed epitaph of a person with a lot of mileage on them. Instead, she sings it in that little girl voice that makes half of Kasey Chambers' songs unlistenable as well.

"Ain't That Pretty At All" - The Pixies
I'm not going to say I'm that enamored of this..."reinterpretation," but I give them credit for trying. An interesting effort, if nothing else.

"Keep Me In Your Heart" - Jorge Calderon and Jennifer Warnes
Calderon does one hell of a Zevon impression, but what the hell is Jennifer "Up Where We Belong" doing on a goddamned Warren Zevon tribute album?

I dunno, with the exception of "Werewolves," "Lawyers," "Poor, Poor, Pitiful Me," and "Splendid Isolation," I have a hard time understanding why these particular songs were selected. Zevon's later albums were passable at best, unredeemably weak at worst, and emphasizing them here seems like a mistake.

Then again, after hearing some of the efforts here, it's probably just as well that they didn't bring John Mayer or the Counting Crows in to butcher "Desperadoes Under the Eaves" or "Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner."

Putting the "simp" in "Simpson"

Poor little Ashlee Simpson just can't catch a break:

If only we watched sports, we'd have seen it live: our favorite fabricated "talent," Miss Ashlee Simpson, graced the stage at the Orange Bowl's halftime performance and didn't lipsync her way through the performance. How can we be sure? Because she sounded like some sort of dying, prehistoric beast. The crowd agreed, apparently, as the poor little thing was unceremoniously booed at the end of her performance.

The video in question is here (and keep your eye out for the conclusive evidence that punk is truly dead*). It's rather unsatisfying, considering there's no post-performance money shot of her running off in tears, to find comfort in the arms of former USC QB Carson Palmer.

Simpson manages to persevere even in the face of what would appear to be more than the requisite three strikes to ensure she never graces a stage again. Her older sister sings better (faint praise, to be sure) and apparently hogged all the comeliness genes; she's already been busted for faking it on stage, and didn't handle it well; she's not attractive; and she doesn't appear to be able to dress herself. One can't even call her inexplicable success a result of lucky sperm, but rather lucky sibling dynamics. If Jessica Simpson wasn't getting famous by blathering about Chicken of the Sea and flashing decolletage on MTV, then Ashlee would be working at Hooter's and singing karaoke on Saturdays, in a venue where her unique vocal stylings might actually be appreciated.

I don't really have anything against Ashlee Simpson, beyond the standard loathing/jealousy I feel for talentless millionaire dipshits, that is. Of course, talent has never been a prerequisite for success in America, though things have really gotten out of hand in this era of Paris Hilton, Ryan Seacrest, and George W. Bush. I'm still trying to figure out if Ashlee Simpson is self aware enough to laugh about how lousy she is all the way to the bank, or if she's actually deluded enough to be hurt when the unwashed masses have the temerity to boo or laugh at her.

Then again, I've managed to delude myself into believing people actually think my writing's any good, so there you go.

UPDATE: They played "Pieces of Me" at the gym this afternoon. The gods are cruel and stinky.

* The anarchy sign on the bass drum

Any last requests?

The Sirius radio experiment is going quite swimmingly. Two weeks in, and it's almost enough to make one forget that both Sam ("C Ya") Malone and the insensate cretins of 740 AM all reside in the same fair city as yours truly.

Aside from the lack of commercials and initial double-takes at hearing someone say "fuck" on the radio, it's a familiar format. Weirder songs, to be sure, but the DJs still come on and blather occasionally. They also take requests.

I'm guessing the subscriber population isn't dramatically smarter than their public airwave counterparts, because the same inanities persist on satellite radio when it comes to requests. To wit, requesting songs every human being in the western hemisphere has heard ten thousand times.

The guy just now, for example, requested "Destination Unknown" by Missing Persons on the First Wave station. This would've made sense in 1983, when the album might not have been available in your particular corner of Appalachia, and the local station was still playing select cuts from the Thank God It's Friday soundtrack. But in 2005? Get on your friendly neighborhood peer-to-peer network, go to Amazon, or visit the bargain bin at your local CD store. Explain the rationale behind requesting a song that is so easily accessible?

Better yet, why request songs on the radio to begin with? As I've so cunningly pointed out, you should be able to get your hands on just about anything you may be interested in hearing, and most record stores have listening stations, while Amazon and many band websites have sample sound files for preview if you're unsure.

But for crying out loud, lay off the Missing Persons. They were overplayed almost before their album was originally released.

Then again, back before I understand such venerable radio concepts as "format" or "payola," I would call the local FM stations to request songs, then act incredulous when the top 40 station balked at spinning Pink Floyd's "Careful With That Axe, Eugene," or that the AOR station never played "Jesus Loves the Little Children." So maybe everyone is being deliberately obtuse as well.

"Ask this...scientician."

Finally, someone (Chuck Klosterman of Spin magazine, as it turns out) has come up with a unifying theory of musical quality:

Van Halen: This band should have been the biggest arena act of the early 1980s, and they were. They had the greatest guitar player of the 1980s, and everyone (except possibly Yngwie Malmsteen) seems to agree. They switched singers and became semi-crappy, and nobody aggressively disputes that fact. They also recorded the most average song in rock history: "And the Cradle Will Rock." What this means is that any song better than "And the Cradle Will Rock" is good, and any song worse than "And the Cradle Will Rock" is bad. If we were to rank every rock song (in sequential order) from best to worst, "And the Cradle Will Rock" would be right in the fucking middle.

That's Yngwie J. Malmsteen to you.

I see the middle point as being sort of arbitrary, since I think "Cradle" is worse than average, but the hypothesis is sound. So whether you want to use Klosterman's example, or create one of your own (I might put "Alive" by Pearl Jam in the center position, for example), you can make the science work. And emphasis on the sciences is something American kids sorely need.

After all, have you seen Junior's grades?

On the radio, whoa-oh-oh-oh

After years of bitching about the lamentable state of Houston radio, I can officially delete every one of my presets on my factory issued car stereo, for The Wife got me a Sirius subscription for Xmas.

The biggest pain in the ass was running the antenna cable from my trunk. After that, it was all I could do not to get in the car and just drive to Vancouver. And I hate driving, normally. As it was, I contented myself with a 45 minute circuit up 290 and back, ostensibly to get our crabby daughter to take a nap.

To that end, I don't recommend any of the so-called "children's" stations (one of which was actually playing an Olsen twins song), or even the easy listening ones. Leo Sayer didn't knock her out, neither did Steely Dan or Tom T. Hall. Maybe it was a trick of timing, but the song she actually conked out to was "Walk" by Pantera.

That's my girl.

I haven't programmed any presets yet, but so far the stations I'm punching in the most are Faction (metal, hip-hop, punk mix), The Border (alternative country), First Wave (classic alternative), and Slow Jamz, uh, Buzzsaw. Yeah, Buzzsaw.

Most of you could probably not care less about this, but I'm excited as hell. Houston radio is horrible, but it embodies what the coming FCC-friendly Clear Channel airwaves will eventually look like all over the country. If you can afford it - especially if you live in this city - and you spend a fair amount of time in your car, you owe it to yourself to get satellite radio. I'm not sure how I lasted this long without one.

Oh right. The booze.

Double nickels on the Dimebag

Pretty sad news coming out of Columbus, where some deranged idiot jumped on the stage at a Damageplan show and killed four people, including lead guitarist "Dimebag" Darrell:

A gunman charged onstage at a packed nightclub and opened fire on the band and crowd, killing top heavy metal guitarist "Dimebag" Darrell Abbott and three other people before a police officer shot him to death, authorities and witnesses said.

Police spokeswoman Sherry Mercurio identified three of the victims of Wednesday's shooting as Abbott, who played for the band Damageplan, and two other men, Nathan Bray and Erin Halk.

I heard the story this morning without realizing who Damageplan was (which just goes to show how far removed I am from being "with it"). Dimebag was quite the guitarist and a hell of a nice guy, by all accounts. His former band, Pantera, got plenty of play in my neck of the woods as a young man, seeing as how they were from Dallas. My favorite story about them is probably the one where the Stanley Cup got dented at a party Dimebag's brother Vinnie Paul threw for the Stars when Guy Carbonneau decided to lob it from a balcony into the pool.

Pantera, known for its brutally hard, fast and aggressive sound, recorded four albums in the 1990s. They attracted a massive cult following and the band's third release, "Far Beyond Driven," debuted at No. 1 in 1994, surprising chart-watchers and critics alike.

Of course, before they were known for their "brutally hard" sound, they were known for wearing leopard skin tanktops and playing hair metal. "Dimebag" even used to go by "Diamond" Darrell, which I always thought was hilarious.

Tonight I need to dig out my cassette of Vulgar Display of Power and listen to it while pondering why Ashlee Simpson still walks the earth.

Screw you guys, I like the Cocteau Twins

John Nova Lomax had an article in the Houston Press a while back about the guilty pleasures of certain local (and not so local) musicians (I'm pretty sure Chuck wrote something about it too, but I'm a little behind). Jesse Dayton, for example, is fond of one of Garth Brooks' more egregious crimes against good taste, while Patterson Hood of the Drive By Truckers sings the praises of "Seasons in the Sun." Michael Haaga, formerly of dead horse, is also a closet Cyndi Lauper fan, and everyone seems to love Hall and Oates.

If I'm "about" anything, it's divulging embarrassing personal information to people I (mostly) have never met face to face. So in the spirit of full disclosure, and because I'm fruitlessly trying not to think about my impending drive to St. Louis with two infants in the car, here are some of my favorite guilty pleasure artists/songs. Remember, that which shames me to my very core may not seem like a big deal to you (especially Greg):

1. "The Voice" - The Moody Blues: "Won't you take me back to school?/I need to learn the Golden Rule." Ugh. I was a fairly impressionable pre-teen, so this probably qualified as "deep" at the time. I still have an MP3 of it somewhere.

2. 2112 - Rush: I don't know that I'm actually that guilty about this, and I challenge you to find anyone who grew up in the vast cultural wasteland of late '70s/early '80s College Station[1] with an iota of musical perception who didn't listen to Rush at some point. That said, 2112 is pretty hilarious. Neil Peart obviously felt the band didn't "push the envelope" enough with "By-Tor and the Snow Dog," and thus, the story of a boy and his guitar vs. the forces of galactic oppression.

I remember attending a party in junior high and putting a tape of this in (ejecting Duran Duran in the process). The hostess immediately came at me screaming that the lyrics to "Temples of Syrinx" were actually "We are the priests/Of the devil/Of Syrinx." You can understand why I have a soft spot for this one.

3. "Heaven or Las Vegas" - Cocteau Twins: My family went on vacation to Aruba when I was in high school. While there, I met a girl a few years older than me from Holland who was also traveling with her family. Apparently, my American naivete and utter willingness to do anything to please her appealed to the young lady, because we had a pretty nice week. She had a collection of tapes, and this one figured prominently in our fling.

4. "Am I the Same Girl?" - Swing Out Sister: Ask Brian aka seadogs about the time I diverted a mobile drinking binge to the local record store to pick up this single. That right there probably ruined my chances with the cute blonde girl riding in the back with me, I feel certain.

5. "Spirit of '76" - The Alarm: I don't know anyone who hates the Alarm. They're just so earnest and trusting, like a cocker spaniel who'll let you lead him out back to be put down because he won't stop gnawing on the urn containing grandma's ashes. Some bands go from sarcastic to bitter over the course of their existences (e.g. Cracker), but the Alarm never lost their sense of...what? Optimism? Hope? Childish gullibility?

Either way, "Spirit of '76" pretty much embodies everything I'm talking about. Substitute "Sixty Eight Guns" or "Blaze of Glory" as you see fit.

6. "What Do All the People Know?" - The Monroes: The DJ on Sirius First Wave said it best, "When you look up one hit wonders in the dictionary, there's a picture of the Monroes." When they played this song a few weeks ago, it was quite possibly the first time since 1983 that I'd heard it, and I started gyrating in a manner my infant daughter would've foung extremely mortifying had she not been soiling herself at the time.

Unlike other bands from my youth, I've never bothered to look up any information on the Monroes. I want my childhood conception of the group as an assemblage of cloned Jim J. Bullocks from Too Close for Comfort to remain blissfully intact.

7. "Dream Weaver" - Gary Wright: I'm not sure what my excuse is for this one. It first slipped over the transom of my consciousness during those hazy, crazy days of college, when my roommate used to play it. More recently, I found myself rewinding the end credits for The People vs. Larry Flynt five or six times so I could listen to it repeatedly.

The answer is probably buried in my past, i.e. it was probably playing in the background the first time I snuck a beer out of te fridge.

8. Level 42: You know, I thought I was pretty cool back in high school when the dyed black hair crowd would talk about how edgy and industrial Front 242 was, and I'd respond, "I love those guys. I think 'Something About You' is really underrated, but 'Lessons in Love' is good too."

Then they'd beat me with tire irons. Seriously, I got the two bands confused until college.

9. "Wouldn't It Be Good?" - Nik Kershaw: It would be good if I could erase this video, your incandescent suit, and that Flock of Seagulls haircut from my long term memory, Nik.

Nah, you rock man. Anything beats that shitty cover version from the Pretty in Pink soundtrack.

10. Actually, I'm not doing 10. Nine are embarrassing enough.

UPDATE: Comments are open. Sorry 'bout that.

[1] It's changed a lot these days...they have an El Chico

Now we know why she doesn't write her own songs

To prove her surprise nuptials weren't a publicity exercise designed to deflect attention from her flagging career and advancing aura of white trash, Britney Spears has written a poem commemorating her recent honeymoon. Here it is in its entirety, because why should I be the only one who suffers?

A honeymoon at last, to get away from it all
My assistant Fe gave me the call.

Fi, Fo, and Fum must have had the day off. Luckily, their older sibling was there to provide our heroine with a much needed break from canceling tour dates in Europe and scarfing Cheetohs and Red Bull.

I remember it well, as she was smilin'
She said it was called Turtle Island.

I prefer "Thunder Island." And then she could've done a cover version.

I packed my bags light and quick,
Then grabbed my pink dress & favorite lipstick.

Fe didn't do it? Did she at least pack some Cheetohs for you?

We hopped on a plane and took our flight
I slept really well, all through the night.

Funny how not having to travel in coach will do that for you.

As we arrive, I turn and look out the door,
People are greeting us right at the shore.

"Welcome rich Americans! Junior Mints $25 in mini bar!"

A meal, a shower and some ice cream
Then I threw my man down, you know what I mean!

Christ, we get it already: you have sex. Congratulations. Of course, I can't decide if your inevitable honeymoon video is going to "accidentally surface" or be sold to IEG by your eventual ex-husband.

Magical nights filled with stars
Silence is golden, no running cars.

Or top 40 radio, or MTV, or any possibility of hearing a Britney Spears song. Man, that does sound magical.

Private dinners, romantic fires
Little piece of heaven, whatever your heart desires.

I suppose a time machine to go back and convince the 12-year old you to pursue a career in interpretive dance is out of the question?

Friendly "hellos" and never goodbyes
When you're having fun, oh, how time flies!

And time flies like the wind, and fruit flies like bananas...oh never mind.

As we sit and prepare to make our part
I thank you, Turtle Island, with all my heart!

Burma Shave.

To quote a great man, "Jesus jumped up Christ on a pogo stick." Finally, someone who writes worse high school poetry than I did. Though I'm a little disappointed...all this talk about Turtle Island and not one verse dedicated to Gamera.

I found this over at Bombadil's, and don't you wish I hadn't?

Leo Sayer's not dead

But his career is:

British pop star of the 1970s Leo Sayer says he hopes to move to Australia to restart his career.

The London-based curly headed singer who had hits with songs like "You Make Me Feel Like Dancing" and "When I Need You" said he is disillusioned with the modern music industry in Britain.
...
In Britain, he said, "they only want really young artists and they only want to have manufactured pop."

Two words, Leo: Kylie Minogue.

I sometimes check out the photo galleries on Yahoo! They give me an idea of what news stories/fashion shows are making waves. They're also good for offering a heads up when someone famous kicks the bucket. When I saw a pic of Sayer's (next to one of recently deceased Howard Keel*), I naturally assumed he's shuffled off his mortal '70s lite rock coil. How surprised I was to discover ole Leo is still around.

My only memories of Sayer's musical catalog are hazy recollections of his appearance on The Muppet Show, but I have another dilemma that maybe the assorted reprobates I call my base can help me sort out. I recall seeing a movie some ten years ago or so in which a Leo Sayer lyric figured prominently. In it, a cast of teens or young adults were conversing with an older black janitor. They questioned him about his choice of professions, and he insisted he was actually a dancer. He then started singing, "You make me feel like dancing, wanna dance the night away," while offering a few steps.

I don't remember the name of the film. Anyone have a clue?

* You were the bomb in Day of the Triffids, Howard. And Seven Brides for Seven Brothers remains the most romantic musical about sexual assault I've ever seen.

"I haven't performed in front of an audience for twenty-eight years! I played a butler. I had one line!"

Jack Sparks, as usual, gets it right about the latest lip-synching hullabaloo:

There's a line of psychology that says abnormal behaviour, in an abnormal environment, can appear normal. Seems like kind of a truism, but the thrust of the point is that if a drunk guy wanders into a room full of drunks, no one's going to really notice if his pants are around his ankles. This is exactly the same kind of sick thinking behind this whole lip-synch issue. Trotting out corpses like Dick Clark to say "everybody does it and the old stuff is considered classic now," is wrong. Wrong wrong wrong.

The next time you plop down $85 to sit in the front row for a big name performer who does a lot of dancing along with his or her show...after paying $10-$20 to park...after spending $15 on the latest CD...after spending $20 on the t-shirt...after spending almost exactly the same amount on the person next to you so they could join you...ask yourself if you care that they're faking it. And while you're at it, look closely next Tuesday night at the Country Music awards show that's going to be on TV; there's gonna be a whole lotta lip-synching goin' on on that show for sure, and for two reasons: 1) most of those people are plastic to begin with, and 2) the dirty little secret in Nashville is that most of them can't sing a note, tone deaf like a drunk New York alley cat.

You can, of course, replace "Country Music Awards" with "Grammys," "Billboard Music Awards," or whatever craptastic, self-congratulatory, televised circle jerk the music industry is trotting out this month. The CMAs merely have the misfortune of being the first such event out of the chute after Ashlee Simpson's little screw up.

P.S. On a related note, Bol had the best hastily improvised graphic from the Ashlee incident.

Between the sheets

Sorry, couldn't think of any amusing "covers" puns.

I see (via Fark), that the Guardian has put out a list of the 10 worst covers of all time. Author Graeme Thompson tried to limit his list to those who felt they were paying respect to the original (thereby eliminating Shatner, et. al.). A few of these are distincly Britpop, so I can't comment on them, but a few deserve at least some sort of overreaction, and I'm just the guy to do it.

1. Duran Duran '911 Is A Joke'

Oh,abso-freaking-lutely. I've discussed the peroxided ones sins against music before, even going so far as to name this song specifically. Thompson calls it "shockingly misconceived in both theory and execution." Jolly right.

2. Ronan Keating 'Fairytale Of New York'

Keating is evidently some sort of pop singer across the pond. Either way, I can't imagined anyone topping the Pogues' version, or why they'd try.

3. Frank Sinatra 'Something'

Well, "Somethin' Stupid" was pretty bad too. Haven't heard this, though.

5. David Bowie 'God Only Knows'

As in, the Beach Boys song? Wow. I can only imagine the lyrics: "God only knows what I did to make Iggy Pop stick around for so many years...God only knows what I was thinking with Tin Machine."

7. Johnny Cash 'Danny Boy'

Easy there, Graeme. Cash is one of the only people I would let have a stab at covering just about anything. His renditions of "Hurt" and "Rusty Cage" bear that out.

10. Kevin Rowland 'The Greatest Love Of All'

I can't imagine going out of my way to look for any of the versions mentioned in this article, but the singer from Dexy's Midnight Runners taking on Whitney Houston is something I might just have to check out.

Setting Son

Jay Farrar and Son Volt are reuniting for a new album and tour:

Roots-rock outfit Son Volt has reunited and is about to begin work on a new studio album.

Group members Jay Farrar, Dave and Jim Boquist and Mike Heidorn recently ended a five-year hiatus to record a track for the Alejandro Escovedo (news) tribute album, "Por Vida." The group is planning to return to the road next year.

"It felt like we hit the ground running," Farrar says. "Five years seemed like five days at that point. It proved that more recording and performing as Son Volt is something that should happen."

Son Volt's last studio album was 1998's "Wide Swing Tremolo," which peaked at No. 93 on the Billboard 200. Farrar's most recent solo release was the live collection "Stone, Steel & Bright Lights," issued in June on his own Transmit Sound label.

Nice to hear, but I'm not really that excited by the news, frankly. I said somewhere, sometime, that Jay Farrar was one of the best at what he does, but what he does isn't very fresh or original. Don't get me wrong, there are fantastic songs on Trace and Wide Swing Tremolo, but they all tend to sound the same. Unlike Wilco, the band helmed by Farrar's Uncle Tupelo bandmate Jeff Tweedy, Son Volt doesn't seem very interested in evolving or experimenting musically. Not to say I want them to start sounding like Death Cab for Cutie, but stretching themselves once in a while couldn't hurt.

And certainly any new album by a band not associated with the new wimp punk movement, jailbait divas, or Nashville is a good thing. I just don't think I'm as jonesed about it as some people are.

Strange bedfellows

I don't like Jim Rome. The legions of moronic callers and the affected baritone voice aside, his "takes" - as he calls them - veer between the sycophantic "I love that guy" attitude reserved for athletes and coaches who agree to appear on his show to easy potshots at the others who get busted for drunk driving and blowing games. Obviously, I don't listen to him most days. This is also because I don't listen to local radio in general, but occasionally I find myself without CDs and desperate, so I tune in. This happened today.

My respect for the guy rose a notch, because he was talking about his love for the Replacements.

The Replacements are one of my top 5 all-time favorite bands. I started listening to them in high school (Pleased to Meet Me era), and never really stopped. I even got to see one of their shows in Austin when attending UT. Their (relative) sobriety was tempered by my own extreme state of inebriation, but it was still an outstanding show. Paul Westerberg's solo stuff never struck the same chord with me, but the guy is still an excellent songwriter.

Rome's experiences with the band echoed a lot of my own, right up to his drunkenly attending a 'Mats gig. He didn't have nice things to say about Westerberg, who apparently blew off his fanboy attentions after the show, but it's understandable. The guy probably had to deal with hundreds of intoxicated dipshits professing their love for him every tour.

Anyway, I still won't be tuning in Jim Rome with any regularity. Just thought it was amusing.

If I hadn't had four beers after giving blood, I probably wouldn't even have brought it up.

"I am haunted by (Roger) Waters."

How the hell did I miss this?

Tommy Mottola and Miramax Films are building "The Wall" on Broadway. The hit album by rockers Pink Floyd will be transformed into a Broadway musical.

"Great!" said Pink Floyd co-founder Roger Waters in a statement Thursday. "Now I can write in some laughs, notable by their absence in the movie."

I dunno, I thought the school children falling into the meat grinder was pretty funny.

Not having listened to much Pink Floyd in a while, perhaps I was mistaken in thinking that a serious autobiographical work about alienation and isolation didn't really lend itself to, uh, "laughs." Must've been all the harmless tobacco I was smoking.

"There are few projects as timeless as 'The Wall,"' said Mottola in a statement. "Even after two decades since its first release, 'The Wall' continues to break through every generational, socioeconomic and political boundary."

Good to see a lackluster Broadway season hasn't dimmed Mottola's sense of humor, or his flair for hyperbole.

Like most whiny teenagers, I found some solace in endlessly replaying "The Wall" in my bedroom, and I still enjoy the movie, but come on. I'm betting generations younger than mine, raised on hip hop and nu metal, don't care much about "The Wall." And if they do, they can always just download it.

Which throws Mottola's "socioeconomic boundary" comment into relief, as well. It isn't like anyone other than Waters' bloated Baby Boomer counterparts are likely to shell out $120 a pop for mezzanine seats to watch a kookier version of "The Wall." Waters knows this, and has probably been planning a stage show ever since he convinced organizers in Berlin that, because his album has the word "wall" in it, booking him for the reuinification festivities would be a great idea. All it proved was that "The Wall" is nothing without David Gilmour, Cyndi Lauper is just plain wrong for "Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2," and Bryan Adams is the face of evil and must be destroyed.

Subsequent concerts at the Wailing Wall, Great Wall, and the remains of Hadrian's Wall never panned out, for some reason.

What frightens me the most is the trend itself. Sure, they start with the classics like "Tommy" or "The Wall." Next come the lesser know but still decent concept albums, like maybe "Joe's Garage" or "Operation: Mindcrime." But what happens then? Where do the producers go after they've plundered all the marginally interesting stuff? I'm not much for grim prognostication, but within ten years, I predict we can all look forward to either ELP's "Tarkus: The Musical," or "KISS: Music from 'Music from the Elder.'" One way or the other, civilization is doomed.

Music for the asses

'Mudge started this, with his post on listing the worst songs ever by allegedly "great" bands. Leaving aside the subjective question of what makes a band great, I started giving the idea some thought.

Then Metafilter joined the fray with an entry asking people to list the worst songs from albums and CDs in their own collection. Rather than cheat and list every track from Shatner's "The Transformed Man," I decided to merge the two, using CDs in my travel case (currently holding about 75 discs) and not my full collection (which I have neither the time nor the inclination to sift through at this point). Not only is it hopelessly subjective, but now I can deflect any criticism for omitting something by claiming I don't own it. Genius!

Having said that, here's my listing of the 15 worst songs from great bands whose CDs I actually own.

15. "Stand" - R.E.M. (Green) - I saw R.E.M. about a half a dozen times between 1987 and 1989, and on at least two of those occasions, Michael Stipe described this as "the worst song ever written by man." Who am I to argue?

14. "Damaged II" - Black Flag (Damaged) - Someone needed a swift kick in the ass for including this droning punk equivalent to a slow jam on an otherwise great album. I vote for Greg Ginn, mostly because Henry Rollins would put me down like a crippled dog.

13. "Try Not to Look So Pretty" - Dwight Yoakam (This Time) - I like Dwight, and this album contains two of the greatest country/pop/ songs ever recorded: "A Thousand Miles from Nowhere" and "Ain't That Lonely Yet." It's also home to this unfortunate selection, which stands apart from the aforementioned tracks thanks to its inexplicably whiny tone and half-assed execution. Perhaps he was singing to his rapidly departing hair.

12. "Roll to Me" - Del Amitri (Twisted) - Okay, I think the Dels are a great band. Most of their albums (especially the excellent Change Anything) are chock full of songs about alienation, loss of love, and drinking, which is what makes "Roll to Me" so obnoxious. Apparently written to improve the group's mainstream appeal, this atrocious bubblegum concoction went on to become their biggest hit, marking the band as a one-hit wonders for life (and for a song used to promote a goddamned Flipper movie, for crying out loud). They're still fairly popular in their native Scotland and Europe, but their future in America is probably non-existent, thanks to this one song.

11. "I Was Made for Loving You" - KISS (Best of) - There are plenty of borderline KISS songs ("Love Gun," "Lick it Up"), but none of them made the mistake of incoporating a quasi-disco melody like "I Was Made for Loving You." Even "Beth" sounds like Gershwin compared to this.

10. "New York, New York" - Ryan Adams (Gold) - I'm cheating on this one, because I'm not that much of an Adams fan but I love Whiskeytown, his former band. I'm also convinced Adams wouldn't have half the mainstream recognition he curently enjoys had not Gold fortuitously come out right around 9/11, allowing radio DJs the country over to latch on to the single. Compared to the good songs on the album ("La Cienega Just Smiled," "Rescue Blues"), and even the average ones, it doesn't hold up.

9. "Long Live Rock" - The Who (The Kids Are Alright) - It's written somewhere (or should be) that songs extolling the virtues of "rock" by name are abominations and should be cast into the fiery pit from whence they came.

8. "Roll the Bones" - Rush (Roll the Bones) - Not the entire song, just that horrible "rap" in the middle of it. I'm a Rush fan from way back (Permanent Waves era), and I've usually gone along with their occasionally ill-advised attempts to branch out musically (letting Lee and/or Lifeson write lyrics, for example), but this was horrendous. Reminded me of rapping Abe Lincoln from Duff Gardens.

7. "Tonight She Comes" - The Cars (Greatest Hits) - Ric Ocasek and Ben Orr made some great music in the late '70s. They were crap live, but I'd put their self-titled debut album and Candy-O up there with the best of the decade. Then Ocasek married swimsuit model Paulina Porizkova and got cocky. "Tonight She Comes" - a hammy, self-indulgent single that is too lazy to even make an effort to mask the double entendre (the video featured a cowgirl riding a giant silver phallus) - was the result.

6. "Chiquita" - ABBA (Gold) - It was a gift, swear to god.

5. "Body Language" - Queen (Hot Space) - Hot Space is a lousy album, and "Body Language," a monotonous ode to getting your groove on, is the worst of the lot ("Calling All Girls" is a close second). By the time this album came out (1982), Queen were entering the doldrums of their career. Sadly, they would only turn it around when Freddie Mercury wrote some of his best stuff while dying of AIDS. Queen remains one of my top 10 favorite all-time bands, which is what makes "Body Language" such a kick in the groin, musically.

4. "Night Time in the Switching Yard" - Warren Zevon (Excitable Boy) - Zevon had perhaps more ups and downs than any artist in memory. When he was on, as with songs like "Desperadoes Under the Eaves" or "Splendid Isolation," he was impossible to top. But for each of those, you'd get a "Long Arm of the Law" or a Mutineer album. "Night Time in the Switching Yard" is partcularly inexplicable, however, coming as it did on one of his otherwise greatest wire-to-wire albums. Even talented artists weren't able to escape the siren's call of the disco guitar groove.

3. "Wild Honey Pie/Revolution 9" - The Beatles (The White Album) - I've always thought of the White Album as a great album buried in another album's worth of filler. I believe if you culled the weaker tracks, you'd have something to rival Sgt. Pepper's or Revolver. As it is, the presence of songs like these two (I couldn't decide which one I hated more) keep the White Album from being one of those rare CDs I can listen to from start to finish.

2. "Hot Stuff" - The Rolling Stones (Black & Blue) - This is what happens when you let Mick determine the musical direction of the group.

1. "Mother" - The Police (Synchronicity) - Andy Summers always got a few token songs to pad out various Police albums. Some were barely tolerable ("Friends" from Message in a Box), and some were actually pretty funny ("Be My Girl - Sally" from Outlandos d'Amour). "Mother," on the other hand, completely threw off the tenuous cohesion of the last Police album. I can't hit the Skip button fast enough to get to "Mrs. Gradenko."

Hope I die before I get...never mind

I'm debating the wisdom of going to check out this show:

CPATW PRESENTS
JUDAS PRIEST
KLOL'S B-DAY PARTY
WOODLANDS PAVILION
"RAIN OR SHINE"
SUN AUG 8 2004 GATE 5PM

Omitted from that highly informative blurb is the fact that Slayer is one of the opening acts.

I saw Slayer way back in 1988, but I've never seen Priest, and now that they're back touring with Rob Halford this seems like as good a time as any. Except that it's August, and temps will probably be approaching a nice even 100 by concert time...and it's at the Woodlands, access to which is only slightly more maddening than hunting for parking...and it's a KLOL gig, which means that in addition to the usual complement of meatheads that show up for a metal concert, I'd get to interact with that odd breed of humanity that finds Walton and Johnson funny.

Bah, who am I kidding? Unless I can see music in a dimly lit bar while leaning against a wall near the stage with a drink in my hand and an A/C vent blowing directly on me, I tend not to bother. And if it's an outdoor show, I'll at least need a cooler of beer, which most venues (including the Woodlands Pavilion) forbid. It might be interesting to see Slayer again, especially if I could find another group of 30-something complainers like myself to hang out with, but I'm sure Priest won't take the stage until 9 or 10 PM, ending around midnight. I'd be lucky to get home by 1 AM.

And me with an early squash game.

Maybe I'll just read the latest Golf Digest and call it a night.

Twang 'em high

Jack Sparks likes the new Old 97s album:

Thank God for Drag It Up. Now we're talkin'. This record has all the bravado of Wreck Your Life, with just a dash of age and maturity, that seems more of a natural progression from where these guys started. It's hard to put your finger on it, but that guitar sound is back. It's kind of biscuit mixed and gasoline fed, and it sounds crude next to Rhett's aching heart throb of a voice, but THAT'S the core of what they do. Just plug this into your car's outputs and get on the damn road. Murray's "In the Satellite Rides a Star," and Rhett's "Adelaide" will absolutely break your heart, and the opening track "Won't Be Home" is the kind of Friday night, rip the tops off the six pack, and get her rollin' anthem that this summer needed.

Good news. I also hated Satellite Rides, and after the band went on hiatus several years ago I more or less assumed Rhett would enjoy moderate mainstream popularity - by making music I'd never bother to listen to - and the rest of the guys would go on about their lives. Maybe I'll be able to retract some of my previous statements once and for all.

"So all those things I think when I'm drunk are true!"
"Yes, except the Dave Matthews Band does not rock."

The otherwise inoffensive Dave Matthews Band has a strange effect on the people of Hartford (via Fark):

(Hartford) - Eyewitness News has new information on the riot that broke out at the Dave Matthews concert in Hartford last night.

Police used tear gas and sting balls to break up a fight in the Jai Alai parking lot.

To paraphrase Robin Williams playing Adrian Cronauer, "I didn't know he had balls."

Onward.

Eyewitnesses say people were throwing bottles and rocks at each other.

Twenty-five people were arrested on charges of inciting a riot, assault and breach of peace.
...
The scene reminded everyone of another riot at the Meadows five years ago.

People fought, threw objects and burned cars at that Dave Matthews concert.

Now that's concise reporting. As for the DMB out-Bizkiting Fred Durst and his ilk, I'd have to surmise that the otherwise mellow Matthews fans finally had enough of $6 bottles of water and $14 service charges for their tickets.

And I hear they were confiscating bota bags at the gate.

"Give me the Satan-worshipping family down the block. The one with the good albums."

I've been seeing Blogads on a lot of people's sites lately. They won't show up here because most of the ones I've seen are for obnoxious crap, I don't really need the money, and (here's the rub) I suspect my traffic levels aren't high enough to garner any interest.

Some of the ones out there are pretty amusing though. For example, I noticed an ad the other day for a CD called "Rock for Americans" (not to be confused with Night Ranger's "(You Can) Still Rock in America," which is rock like rock is meant to be: rockin'). I didn't click the link, at first, because the text of the ad told me all I needed to know:

"Hard Rock for the Hard Right! Hear the underground hits: 'Hunt 'em Down and Kill 'em,' 'When in Doubt, Wipe 'em Out,' 'Useless Idiot,' and may other soon to be classics."

And here I always thought "Hunt 'em Down and Kill 'em" was a Skrewdriver song. To clear things up, I went to the, uh, "artist's" web site to see what other gems there were to be had. The opening blurb hooked me right away:

Frank Looby's "Rock for Americans" is for those Americans who love Toby Keith's Shock'N Y'all album, but want to be inspired while practicing their air guitar, not chewing on a toothpick. With the vocal style of a Lou Reed or an Iggy Pop, Looby dictates his views on terrorism, liberals, 9-11, his love for the flag and more current political hotspots.

In other words, those Americans who not only love bowel-clenchingly awful country music, but also enjoy listenening to off-key, monotone vocals. As for his views, I'm going out on a limb and guessing he's against terrorism, liberals, and 9-11.

It would be petty of me to note that he misspells "idiot" on his bio page. So I won't.

As for the music, in the synopsis for "Red, White and Blue" he remarks:

"As a conservative there's nothing more upsetting than seeing our young soldiers, many from lower income/immigrant families, risking it all in some third world hell-hole; then seeing some good looking, multi-millionaire actor bitch and moan about our country."

Knowing our multimillionaire Congresspeople keep their children out of harm's way while voting to send those young soldiers to some "third world hell-hole" obviously doesn't bother him.

All this on the same page where he talks about how his high lottery number kept him out of Vietnam. Sweet.

Then there's "Pig in a Pants Suit:"

"Where do you start when the subject is Hillary? I started by writing down all the scandals/creepy stuff she is known for, hoping to get inspired. Then I decided to have a song that simply lists all the creepy stuff."

Sort of a "We Didn't Start the Fire" for the Ken Starr crowd. I am continuously baffled by the depth of hatred for Hillary Clinton, but I guess it'll teach you future First Ladies to think twice before having the temerity to discuss policy. Now go make us a sandwich.

I gave a few of these samples a listen so you wouldn't have to, and yeeesh. I needed a little Michael Bolton to cleanse my palate. If the right wants to make any headway in the ongoing "culture wars," they need to start putting out better efforts than this.

Would it also be bad form to mention that he also misspells "essay?" Okay, then I won't.

Van Hagar

Tim and Mudge checked out Van Halen at the Meadowlands Tuesday night. While I'm glad Eddie has fully recovered from his cancer and Gary Cherone has been booted to the Neutral Zone of Rock where he forever belongs, I must take issue with one of Mudge's statements:

Van Halen is back together, featuring Sammy Hagar once again at lead vocal

Stop right there, Bwana. Hagar is a capable singer, and belonged in VH more than Cherone ever did, but the only way I'm ever going to consider Van Halen "back together" is when Diamond David Lee Roth leads them once again. I realize the odds of a Roth-enabled Van Halen - given the planetoid sized egos of both Dave and Eddie - are long indeed, but anything else, in my opinion, is inferior product.

Glad y'all had a good time, though.

Cover your ears

We've talked about cover songs here before. To sum up; I think they can have merit, provided the artist brings something new to the equation and doesn't just engage in a straight reinterpretation.

The sole exception to this, in any form and at any time, is Duran Duran.

Sure, I've been aware of their version of the Temptations' "Ball of Confusion" for some time, but wrote it off as poor judgement. "The Crystal Ship?" Doors songs are sufficiently unironic that any cover is justified, frankly. What about "White Lines" by Grandmaster Flash? Okay, that one was utterly horrible. But they can't all be bad, right? Certainly D2 had some luck playing around with someone else's songs, yes?

Nope. The sadist programming the internet radio station I've been listening to has subjected me not only to Le Bon and company's rising gorge rendition of "911 is a Joke," but also "Lay Lady Lay" - barely acceptable for human consumption in the first place - and "Foxy Lady." "Foxy Lady?!?!" What numbnuts at the Department of All That is Holy fell asleep at the switch and allowed that out of tune meatball and his gang of shoulder pad-wearing pretty boys to cover...well, anything by Jimi Hendrix?

And I'll never understand why they play these songs live, when no one is poised in the booth to modulate Simon's voice to keep him from veering into first round American Idol territory, as he is wont to do.

They've also, among others, apparently recorded a version of Zeppelin's "Thank You," which I've never heard. And personally, I'd like to thank whatever cyclopean horror rules the universe for that.

Putting a boot in your wallet

How can I believe in a just and ordered universe when I see things like this?

Judas Priest - Sunday, August 8, 2004, 5:00 PM
Uncovered reserve: $29.50
Lawn seating: $15.00

Toby Keith
Friday, August 13, 2004, 7:30 PM
Uncovered reserve: $60.75
Lawn seating: $28.75

The grandfathers of metal barely commanding half the prices of that mouth-breathing homonculus? And even when you have a chance to play the home version of Heavy Metal Parking Lot?

The only way I'm paying $30 for lawn seats is if it's actually Toby Keith's lawn, and I can bring a lot of dogs with distressed bowels.

Oh frabjous day

Just when you think there's no hope for the music industry, a story like this comes along to brighten your day:

Rock Band Creed Breaks Up After 3 Albums

NEW YORK - The spiritually inclined band Creed, whose anthemic hits "Higher" and "With Arms Wide Open" helped them become one of the top-selling rock acts of the past decade, has called it quits.

Three former Creed members immediately announced they were forming a new band — minus singer Scott Stapp — but were quick to say it was not "just Creed with a different singer."

They could call it The New Beatles for all I care, as long as that bellowing jackass isn't polluting my airwaves anymore.

Creed's three albums sold a combined 24 million copies in the United States. While many critics dismissed them as pale Pearl Jam imitators, Creed members used that as creative fuel and laughed all the way to the bank.

As hideous as Creed's output was, I'd hate to think what it would've sounded like without all that "creative fuel."

Personal issues, of course, are what brought about this glorious event. Tensions had been rising between Stapp and the rest of the band for months, culminating in a performance reminiscent of late '70s Aerosmith:

The pinnacle of Creed's problems took place in Chicago in December 2002. Whether Stapp was inebriated or simply sick, as he had claimed, his performance was so terrible that some members of the crowd sued the band for sucking. For a band proud of its reputation for exciting and passionate performances, such a show was inexcusable. Some fans even balked at Stapp's heavy-handed Christ-like poses, which he claimed symbolized that he "had some things going on in [his] life," "kind of felt alone" and "didn't think anybody had [his] back at the time."

There's one difference between you and Christ, Scott: Christ didn't bitch as much.

Good riddance.

Everybody knows

Reading about last weekend's tribute concert reminded me of a conversation from several years ago that took place between a friend and myself after a particularly...miserable day.

Friend: Christ, I'm packing it in.
Myself: Yep. Gonna be one of those nights.
Friend: What kind of night is that?
Myself: One of those lie on the couch with all the lights off and a bottle of wine while listening to Leonard Cohen kind of nights.
Friend: Ew.

No really, I'm quite the fan.

Music at the concert -- the final event of the month-long Brighton Festival -- was provided by some of the finest jazz and folk players, with voices by famous names from the world of rock like Nick Cave and Jarvis Cocker as well as folk stars like Beth Orton, Laurie Anderson and the McGarrigle sisters.

Cohen's former backing singers Julie Christensen and Perla Batalla gave faithful renditions of iconic songs such as "Bird on the Wire," while Cave's upbeat version of "Diamonds in the Mine" and Cocker's duet with Orton on "Death of a Ladies' Man" proved there was more to Cohen's work's than melancholy.

Heh. I would very much like to have heard Nick Cave singing "Diamonds in the Mine."

"Our mutual distrust and hatred of hippies has united us in a common cause!"

Just to get it out in the open, I'm not a fan of jam bands. I saw the Grateful Dead once, but somehow managed to avoid the strange brain ailment that seized several of my college buddies, causing them to follow the band throughout the state, hunt obsessively for bootlegs, and play naught else on the stereo (my roommate Jim and I had to tag-team the CD changer my sophomore year in order to keep roommate #3 - Vince - from putting "Aoxomoxoa" on repeat for an entire evening). Growing up in the '70s, I had enough mellow gold to last me a lifetime, thanks. I know bands like the Dead, and String Cheese Incident, and Check Out My Alpaca Baja Jacket (or whatever) have/had insanely loyal legions of fans, and that one man's meat is another man's "Is this the same song they were playing 17 minutes ago, or was that guitar solo a segue into the next tune?" Whatever.

That said, it is with a not so heavy heart that I inform you Phish are breaking up:

NEW YORK (AP) -- Phish, the Vermont-based jam band whose legions of dedicated fans made them one of the United States' top touring acts, announced Tuesday that they were breaking up.

The surprise announcement came as the band prepared to release a new album, "Undermind," on June 15 and embark on a summer tour, which will kick off June 17 at Coney Island in Brooklyn, a borough of New York City.
...
The quartet, which includes [Trey] Anastasio, Jon Fishman, Mike Gordon and Page McConnell, was formed in 1983. The band drew thousands of fans to their concerts with marathon performances and long, experimental jams that melded every type of music, from bluegrass to electronica.

Some shows drew up to 80,000 fans, and for many of them, the band became the center of their universe. Much like the fans of the Grateful Dead before them, fans would follow the band from show to show. Phish's encouragement of the taping of their concerts also endeared them to their audiences.

The more I think about it, the more I have to admit that Phish's music isn't really the problem. Granted, the phrase "long, experimental jam" gives me hives, but most of the "music" you hear on your friendly, neighborhood Clear Channel marketing wavelength is a thousand times more obnoxious. From what I've heard, the band has some serious chops. And by all accounts they were very good about going outside the music industry to sell tickets and copies of their live shows, and allowing taping, which I'm told is quite important if you want to relive the same 3 hours of your life over and over.

No, my gripe is with the Phish fans I've encountered over the years. The ones who simply wouldn't shut up about how I just didn't "get" their music and how those who choose to ignore the band's genius were somehow ignorant Philistines. I know, I know, you could say the same about fans of just about any non-mainstream act, but the Phish contingent always seemed more...vehement. And I've never understood the mentality of someone who robotically follows a band around for weeks, months, or even years. Sure, every show is different, but it's the same band. Fans of Phish and SCI and ther ilk love to trumpet their superior musical savvy, but listening to one genre isn't appreciation, it's myopia.

Oh well, Widespread Panic and Leftover Salmon will get some more fans and the cycle of black market acid dealing will continue more or less uninterrupted. College dropouts and early retirees will once again have a community, and the public at large will remain more or less unaware of the scene until they make the mistake of taking the kids to the park on concert day or the news runs a short blurb about how 50 hippies were beaten senseless by a dozen KMFDM fans. World without end. Amen.

"F*ckin' every now and then I fall apart"

Who are you to deny Bonnie Tyler's importance as a cultural icon? Nobody, that's who. Just in the past year, we've had a profane version of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" (featured in last year's Old School) and Jennifer Saunders' cover of "Holding Out For a Hero" in Shrek 2 (it ain't Footloose, but it'll have to do). Personally, I can't tell you how relieved I was to learn she isn't dead.

She seems rather...well-preserved for 50 years and 15(!) albums (and by "well-preserved" I mean "surgically altered"). Her last CD was only released in France, and like Hasselhoff, she seems to be big in Germany. I can't be the only one who sees how easily this demonstrates her cross-cultural appeal. Perhaps if the Welsh-born Ms. Tyler had been around in 1940, we could've avoided a global conflagration.

I remember when "Total Eclipse of the Heart" was on infinite loop on MTV in the early '80s. The video was typical for its vintage, which is to say utterly nonsensical (I seem to recall horses, lots of shirtless guys, and a table being upended for no reason a la "Hungry Like the Wolf"). Dismissing the cultural significance of such a piece would be foolhardy, however. Those were heady times, when Cold War fears and the inability to Safety Dance could cause even the most level-headed of us to toss furniture around like the Tasmanian Devil. She offered us catharsis.

Could a Golden Age of Bonnie be forthcoming? Can her Jim Steinman-penned odes to heroes and solar-cardiac phenomena calm our troubled world? Will she tour with Quarterflash?

We can only hope.

Everybody's doing it

Tim did it. Christopher did it. Now I gotta do it. What is "it," you ask? Why, a Top 10 worst songs list, that's what.

Silly persons.

Blender Magazine, not one to follow in Rolling Stone's hoary tradition of listing the "Greatest 12-Minute Jerk Off Guitar Solos" and the like, is releasing a list of the 50 Worst Songs of All Time. Having taken some flack for their 50 Worst Bands list, they appear to have eschewed the blunt smoking adolescent viewpoint in favor of some writers who kinda sorta know that they're talking about (The Village Voice's Rob Tannenabaum and Mim Udovitch of Esquire, for starters). Without further ado, here's their list (my keen and witty comments for some entries are included):

1. We Built This City - Starship ... Could just as easily have listed Sara or Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now. In fact, I'm in favor of the latter just for its inclusion in the movie Mannequin.
2. Achy Breaky Heart - Billy Ray Cyrus ... This and Ice Ice Baby are gimme picks, though it's hard to argue with their inclusion.
3. Everybody Have Fun Tonight - Wang Chung
4. Rollin' - Limp Bizkit
5. Ice Ice Baby - Vanilla Ice ... see #2
6. The Heart of Rock & Roll - Huey Lewis and the News ... Presented as a representative sample, I assume, since pretty much anything Huey Lewis and the News released could make this list. The same goes for the collected works of post-1985 Genesis, Mr. Mister, Lionel Richie, Hammer, Whitney Houston, Gerardo, Color Me Badd, New Kids on the Block, Bryan Adams, and Celine Dion.
7. Don't Worry, Be Happy - Bobby McFerrin
8. Party All the Time - Eddie Murphy ... What, having Rick James as a producer doesn't count for something? Bitch.
9. American Life - Madonna
10. Ebony and Ivory - Paul McCartney, Stevie Wonder ... Bad, but still light years ahead of McCartney and Michael Jackson's The Girl Is Mine.
11. Invisible - Clay Aiken
12. Kokomo - The Beach Boys
13. Illegal Alien - Genesis
14. From a Distance - Bette Midler ... Which is how this song is best heard. With your ear canals stuffed with molten lead.
15. I'll Be There for You - The Rembrandts ... Meh. The Family Ties song has to be one of the worst TV theme songs ever. I'd sing I'll Be There For You in a Norwegian death metal club before listening to "What would we do, baby? Sha la la la" again.
16. What's Up? - 4 Non Blondes ... I feel for Linda Perry. She's got great pipes, but she writes songs like a 14-year old discovering Kafka for the first time. What's Up? pales next to her other "up" song, Fill Me Up, a solo Perry single from 1996.
17. Pumps and a Bump - Hammer
18. You're The Inspiration - Chicago ... Chicago stands as one of those '70s bands that sacrificed all pretense of artistic integrity in order to score more chicks with excruciating '80s power ballads. See also .38 Special and REO Speedwagon.
19. Broken Wings - Mr. Mister ... Give bassist/vocalist Richard Page some credit. The longtime session player put together a band designed to do nothing more than sell harmless (if mostly banal) puff singles, made his money, then quit. At last count, Mr. Mister had three studio albums and four "greatest hits" compilations. Well played.
20. Dancing on the Ceiling - Lionel Richie
21. Two Princes - Spin Doctors ... The ugly career smackdown of the hippy-trippy Spin Doctors is one reason to be thankful for grunge.
22. Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue (The Angry American) - Toby Keith ... The best Toby Keith quote I've ever heard came from Jack Sparks:

Mainstream Nashville is a whore. If it were suddenly cool to be a cross-dressing, gay, Republican, Toby Keith would fly to the White House wearing eye-shadow and lipstick to fellate the President at a press conference in the Rose Garden with a Ford pickup in the background.

That about sums it up.
23. Sunglasses at Night - Corey Hart ... Oh please, nobody at the magazine thought Sunglasses At Night was a cool song? Even in its early MTV heyday?
24. Superman- Five for Fighting ... Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. "It's not easy to be me?" You're fucking Superman! How pathetic are the times we live in when the Man of Steel moans about wishing that he could cry and not being meant to ride with "clouds between his knees?" Someone get me a copy of the Ramones covering the "Spider-Man" TV show theme song. Stat.
25. I'll Be Missing You - Puff Daddy featuring Faith Evans and 112 ... I forgot to include Puff Daddy on the list of "representative sample" artists, but he belongs there, too. Even good songs ("Every Breath You Take") sound like ass when the Didster gets through with them.
26. The End - The Doors ... There's no better music to kill Marlon Brando by.
27. The Final Countdown - Europe ... I mistakenly (and embarrassingly) thought this was the theme to that movie about the aircraft carrier going back in time for longer than I care to admit.
28. Your Body Is a Wonderland - John Mayer ... How bad is it for John Mayer that his best known song is this treacly bit of garbage? I'm sure he's crying all the way to the Jaguar dealership.
29. Breakfast at Tiffany's - Deep Blue Something ... All I know about DBS is that they were from Dallas and occasionally played at a crummy sports bar I used to frequent in College Station. Breakfast at Tiffany's was originally released on a CD in 1992, but didn't make it to mainstream rotation until 1999. That's a long time to coast on one song, but they did their best.
30. Greatest Love of All - Whitney Houston
31. Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm - Crash Test Dummies
32. Will 2K - Will Smith
33. Barbie Girl - Aqua ... Was this really that bad? It didn't seem any worse than the majority of crap on top 40 radio at the time.
34. Longer - Dan Fogelberg ... The success of Fogelberg's smooth '70s sound is, I hope, a consolation for the fact that he must've gotten mocked regularly in his high school locker room for his marked lack of testicles.
35. Shiny Happy People - R.E.M.
36. Make Em Say Uhh! - Master P featuring Silkk, Fiend, Mia-X and Mystikal ... Uhh?
37. Rico Suave - Gerardo ... Many people think I didn't go out much my senior year of college in order to bring my grades up, this is untrue. I didn't go out much because every goddamn bar my friends frequented played this song incessantly.
38. Cotton Eyed - Joe Rednex
39. She Bangs -Ricky Martin
40. I Wanna Sex You Up - Color Me Badd ... Jesus. I'd forgotten what a low ebb the early 1990's represented for American music.
41. We Didn't Start the Fire - Billy Joel ... Ugh. Non-contextual history couched in more Baby Boomer whining. Christie should've cheated on him sooner. With Michael Stipe.
42. The Sounds of Silence - Simon & Garfunkel ... This one has me a little perplexed. Surely I Am A Rock is more pretentious, or Feelin' Groovy more wimp-folky.
43. Follow Me - Uncle Kracker
44. I'll Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That) - Meat Loaf ... How did the entire Bat Out of Hell album not make the cut again? I should shut up, since I actually used to like Bat Out of Hell.
45. Mesmerize - Ja Rule featuring Ashanti
46. Hangin' Tough - New Kids on the Block
47. The Only Thing That Looks Good on Me Is You - Bryan Adams
48. Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da - The Beatles ... If you want to make a token slap at an iconic '60s British Invasion band, put Hot Stuff by the Rolling Stones here.
49. I'm Too Sexy - Right Said Fred
50. My Heart Will Go On - Celine Dion

I should point out that I've never heard #s 9, 11, 17, 32, 36, 43, 45, or 47. For this I am a happy dude.

Now for the unhappiness. Or my Bottom 10, as I like to call it. My sole criterion for this was that I only included songs by people who were musical acts first, so no Don Johnson, Eddie Murphy, J-Lo, Shatner, etc. I couldn't tell you how high these songs charted, if at all. All I know is they fill me with as much revulsion as the thought of sharing a hot tub with Bill O'Reilly, Prince, and Nia Vardalos.

If you haven't heard these songs in a long time, I'm only to happy to have reminded you of their existence. As always, if you don't like my list, make your own.

10. Heaven - Warrant: Picking Warrant for this spot is the equivalent of dropping the names of a hundred hair metal songs in a hat and picking one at random. Warrant is one of the more egregious offenders, so they get the coveted 10th spot.
9. Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman? - Bryan Adam: A lyrical sample:

When you love a woman
you tell her that she's really woman
When you love a woman
you tell her that she's the one

What the fucking fuck? This is horrible even for one of Adams' notorious power movie ballads (and I thought he'd never go lower than Everything I Do (I Do it For You)).
8. Roll to Me - Del Amitri: Look, I love Del Amitri. I think Change Anything is one of the best albums released in the last 15 years, and own just about everything they've ever put out. That said, this song (from 1998's Twisted) is grotesque. It's the Dels' attempt to release a radio-friendly single that avoided their usual themes of drinking, alienation, and drinking. Mission accomplished, but wow does it suck.
7. Desert Moon - Dennis DeYoung: Chris made this #1 on his list. Good choice. Styx was responsible for some horrible affronts to popular music, including Lady and the entirety of the Kilroy Was Here album, but it wasn't until DeYoung was cut loose that he broke the chains of mediocrity and plumbed new lows.
6. It's Been Awhile - Staind: My catch-all selection for every pathetic pissing and moaning "rock" song released since the death of Kurt Cobain. Substitute your favorite Everclear or Nickelback song as warranted.
5. Body Language - Queen: Queen's ill-conceived tribute to the joys of casual sex. Good thinkin'.
4. I Can't Dance - Genesis: Illegal Alien is Stairway to Heaven combined with Orff's Carmina Burana by comparison.
3. Afternoon Delight - Starland Vocal Band: All too easy. How about some more Bryan Adams lyrics?

Have you ever really
Really really ever loved a woman?

The Crappy Movie Tie-In Single Lyrics Generator must've been acting up that day. Call Professor Frink.
2. Anything by Christopher Cross: You really (really really) could put together an entire Worst 10 list from songs by bands that won the Best New Artist category at the Grammies (SVB, Cross, Milli Vanilli). However, the possession of a complete discography of Christopher Cross albums qualifies as a Level 4 biohazard.
1. Wildfire - Michael Martin Murphey: Jesus, maybe Chris had the right idea by excluding all songs from 1970-75. Give the guy credit for tapping the lucrative Homely Girls Who Were Really Into Horses market, though. As wailing, pre-punk, faux sensitive balladeering goes, it's hard to beat, which is why it's number one.
BONUS: With Arms Wide Open - Creed: Bellowing Eddie Vedder wannabe Scott Stapp seizes the "homunculus mongoloid" crown from Billy Ray Cyrus and runs with it. With Arms Wide Open is destined to go down as theSeasons in the Sun of this generation.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go puncture my eardrums with a fondue fork.

Obligatory belated Kurt Cobain blog

After reading many fine ruminations on the subject of the 10th anniversary of Kurt Cobain's death I've concluded that I'm in the minority on this one.

I didn't think much of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" when I first heard it. I enjoyed Nevermind, but didn't pay much attention to it until 1992 or so. Since the late '80s, I'd been listening primarily to bands like Uncle Tupelo and Jason and the Scorchers. People described Nirvana as "punk," but punk to me had specific parameters, and the Circle Jerks and DKs did it better.

Cobain's death struck me as less a generational tragedy than a self-fulfilling prophecy. Never trust a junkie, whether it's not to steal from you or not to die from an overdose. A new book is coming out alleging that Cobain's death was a murder and not a suicide, an idea which might generate some interest in me if the man hadn't been slowly killing himself for three years. Conspiracy theorists point out that Cobain had ingested a "triple lethal dose of heroin" before the suicide, suggesting he was unable to pull the trigger himself. Perhaps. Or maybe he was just thorough. This is the same guy who wrote "I Hate Myself and Want to Die," after all.

Possibly he was being ironic.

I've heard some argue that Cobain was "overrated." I know that he didn't have much of an influence on me, but that doesn't mean he didn't touch many people's lives. My problem is with those who lionize him as my generation's John Lennon....close, but no walrus. Cobain produced a limited catalog and Nirvana, unlike the Beatles, spoke seriously to a relatively narrow band of Gen X listeners (not counting the clueless backwards ballcap-wearing frat boys who never seemed to grasp that they were the ones being mocked). Cobain benefited in much the same way Morrison and Hendrix did from their premature deaths: spared the ignominy of aging badly (see also Pete Townshend). Hendrix, however, seemed content with his career choice. I'm not convinced that Cobain would've kept playing music, had he lived.

I'm grateful, on one hand, to Nirvana for ending the chart supremacy of bands like Warrant. On the other, we have them to thank - at least in part - for the lingering taint of angsty, pseudo-punk outfits like Staind and Good Charlotte.

Nevermind, indifferent as I may have been to it, was one of those albums that signaled a sea change in popular music. Problem was, it was simply the first one that gained notice out of a vaguely similar group of bands including the likes of Mudhoney and Alice in Chains. Cobain also acknowledged the strong influence of the Pixies on his songwriting, and who knows? If Frank Black (then Black Francis) had been more aesthetically pleasing, maybe the Pixies and "Gouge Away" would now occupy the throne instead of Nirvana and "Teen Spirit."

In the end, Cobain's death was a drag, but one I personally have a hard time equating with the deaths of Joe Strummer or Freddie Mercury, much less John Lennon. The guy was a fairly talented songwriter, sure, I just don't know that anybody who chooses to eat a barrel rather than seek help for his addictions or be a father to his child is someone we should idolize.

"I'm like Bill Lee writing when he's in Tangiers"

Omnipresent commenter Denny hooked me up with a track called "Bug Powder Dust" by a band called Bomb the Bass. The song features ex-Supernauter Justin Warfield and some amusing trip-hop lyrics.

The song is thick with references to everything from Naked Lunch to Great Space Coaster, and deserves mention for this couplet alone (which I probably shouldn't have to explain):

Who's that man in the windowpane
Got something on his tongue and it's startin' to stain?

Solid.

Regrets, he's had a few

Ron Wood of the Rolling Stones makes some comments that are probably applicable to any rock musician from the '60s and '70s:

"I should have died around when Keith Moon did in 1978," Wood, 56, told Britain's Sunday Mirror newspaper.

"Yeah, because me and Keith, we were hitting it really hard.

The obvious subtext here is that Keith Moon is remembered and eulogized as one of rock's last wild men, who lived life to its fullest and most excessive, while Wood still dodders on with Mick, Keith and company on their latest wallet-fattening sleepwalk through the "Hot Rocks" collection. Had Wood died in '78, he might be recalled as something other than "that other guitar player for the Rolling Stones."

There's still time to go out like George Harrison, however:

Doctors have told Wood if he does not quit his 30-a-day cigarette habit he is at risk of catching the respiratory disease emphysema.

Lung diseases aren't very glamorous. Unfortunately for Ron, he's already too old for his death to be categorized as a "rock and roll tragedy." His best bet at this point might be to load up on OxyCodone and fly a hang glider into a volcano or something. Musicians are artists, right? So be creative.

No Peter Criss, no peace

I lost track of Kiss after the 18th farewell tour, but this story caught my eye:

NEW YORK (Billboard) -- When Kiss begins a five-date Japanese tour May 27 in Tokyo, Peter Criss may not be sitting atop his familiar stool behind the drums.

In a posting on his official Web site (http://www.petercriss.net), Criss says his contract with Kiss has expired and that he has not yet been informed what, if any, his future status with the group is.

The posting on his web site isn't there anymore, so maybe if we all close our eyes and say, "I believe in over-the-hill rock stars who still put on kitten makeup before wearily going through the motions of playing 25-year old songs," it'll reappear.

The only reason anyone goes to a Kiss concert anymore is because their mom slept with Paul Stanley in '78 and he still leaves passes for her whenever they swing through town. That, or to see how much the increasingly porcine Gene Simmons had to let out his codpiece this year.

On its lengthy recent tour with Aerosmith, Kiss performed without original guitarist Ace Frehley, who was replaced by former tour manager Tommy Thayer. A band spokesperson could not be reached for comment at deadline.

That's bad news for Criss. If no one cared about Frehley's absence, you might as well put the one-armed Def Leppard guy on the riser for all the controversy it'll cause. Hell, get Bez from Happy Mondays, or that bongo guy from Guster. Or a robot. Better yet, replace the whole damn band with Disney-brand animatronic puppets. They'd be about as mobile on stage as the actual codgers themselves, and the only road crew you'd need is a guy to push the Simmons-Bot's Spit Blood/Spit Fire buttons on the control console.

And to think I retired a full colonel in the Kiss Army.

"I used to rock and roll all nite and party every day."

Here at APCB, we don't just entertain, we want to perform a public service. Blogs aren't merely arenas in which misanthropic cranks spew their bilge about politics and pop culture, they can also educate and - dare I say? - save some lives.

Last Friday marked the 1st anniversary of the Rhode Island nightclub fire that killed 100 patrons attending a concert by former '80s hair metal stalwarts Great White. The band's tour manager and club managers at the Station were indicted for involuntary manslaughter late last year. That's well and good, but in order to help prevent future rock-related tragedies (and due to little free time at the moment) I've resurrected an e-mail from a list I'm on to help music fans avoid future calamities. For those of you on that e-mail list who've already seen this, my apologies. Original entertainment will return shortly.

When I first heard of the fire in Rhode Island, I think I was less surprised it had taken place than I was that there were actually 300 people there to see Great White. a group of Ian Hunter-wannabes I'd consigned to the bargain bin of my musical consciousness long ago.

The lesson coming from the Station fire, therefore, is to balk at attending a show where the hair metal musical combo in question might have to resort to fireworks to cover up a lack of talent/stage presence/recognizable hits from this decade. To that end, I urge each of you to be especially wary of upcoming concerts featuring the following "vintage" rock acts:

Warrant - The Backstreet Boys of metal. Not just dumb music - Jethro Bodine dumb music.
Cinderella - Not to take away from the musicianship of Tom Kiefer, but they'd give Aerosmith a run for the "Ugliest Metal Band of All Time" title.
Dangerous Toys - The tagline of their 1988 tour was, I believe, "Sport'N a Woody." There isn't much I can add to that.
Enuff Z'Nuff - Metal/psychedelia fusion, with just a dash of suck.
Vixen - Third lamest band depicted in The Decline of Western Civilization Part II: The Metal Years (behind obvious winners Odin and London).
Whitesnake - At the show I saw in 1987, both Heather Locklear and Tawny Kitaen were in attendance. This was a great source of joy of us dateless wonders. At one time, the group was a virtual hair band Hall of Fame, featuring Vivian Campbell (Dio, Def Leppard), Adrian Vandenberg (Vandenberg), Rudy Sarzo (Quiet Riot), and Steve Vai. Today I wait for the inevitable 80's Rock Reunion with Motley Crue and Poison. Sponsored by Cialis.
Tesla - Not really a hair band, but an ex-girlfriend of mine was in one of their videos. I wasn't aware of this before we started dating.
White Lion - 1987's "When the Children Cry" set the 'heavy ballad' bar so high it would be years before Creed would happen along to take a shot at it.
BulletBoys - I could never decide if "Smooth Up In Ya" was a more penetrating analytical dissection of gender dynamics than Whitesnake's "Slide It In" or not.
Krokus - The videos for "Eat the Rich" and "Headhunter" finally gave America's youth the heavy metal-Dungeons & Dragons connection they so sorely needed.
Lizzy Borden - Never achieved the notoriety of the similarly named Marilyn Manson, for some reason.
Slaughter - You poor bastard, they roped you into buying their album by giving themselves a name evocative of rapacious barbarians, then used their inoffensive wimp rock and dreamy lead vocalist to convince your girlfriend to keep you from throwing the album away. Dirty pool.
Skid Row - I actually saw these yabbos twice: opening for Aerosmith in 1990 and for Guns N' Roses in 1991. Given the moderate success of Sebastian Bach's recent acting and entertainment ventures, I think we can thankfully rule out a reunion tour.
Trixter - Approximately as "metal" as the Spice Girls. Better hair, though.
Faster Pussycat - Fourth lamest band depicted in The Decline of Western Civilization Part II: The Metal Years, in spite of their exploitation cinema name.
Dokken - I had a homemade "Dokken Sucks" shirt that cemented my adolescent status as an aloof outsider. Of course, I only made it because a girl in high school broke up with me to the strains of "Alone Again."
Europe - Neck and neck with White Lion as NATO's worst musical export. "The Final Countdown" was 1986's "Who Let the Dogs Out?"
Saigon Kick - The lesser known half (along with Hanoi Rocks) of the fabled Vietnam metal dyad.
Britny Fox - Sissiest name in rock and roll, although their song "Girlschool" predated America's obsession with Catholic schoolgirls by 10 years.
Fastway - It's generally ill-advised to combine two names to come up with a moniker for your group (D.N.A., The Captain and Tennille), but would "Fast" Eddie Clarke and Pete Way listen? Nooooo. I think "Autobahn" is much cooler, but association with Kraftwerk is doubtless something these guys were trying to avoid.
Leatherwolf - That this band released three albums (the first two both named Leatherwolf) before the forces of good taste consigned them to oblivion is testament to the fact that any band with big hair and a lead vocalist with his scrotum in a vice could get signed in the 1980s.
Kingdom Come - Latecomers to the party, but the song "Get It On" gave us all a welcome respite from the Milli Vanilli scandal for a while.
Ratt - Uh, I actually used to like Ratt.

I'm leaving out some obvious ones like Def Leppard (still a big draw, at the Rodeo anyway), Bon Jovi (never technically metal), and Poison (not sure any of them still have henough hair to qualify as a "hair band"). Aerosmith continues to offend on a regular basis, but most arenas capable of holding their legions of aging, faux hesher fans have pretty adequate fire protection.

Certainly some of you are wondering what qualifies me to speak so eloquently about '80s hair bands. Unsurprisingly, my research started in an attempt to pick up girls. While at a party in or around 1988, a Whitesnake song came on the stereo. I turned to my friend and said something along the lines of, "Whitesnake is the biggest derivative, Led Zeppelin cock rock, bullshit rip-off band I've ever heard. Feh, Whitesnake."

A fetching young lady in teased blonde hair, ripped jeans, and a leather jacket - who had apparently only heard one word of my previous diatribe - tapped my shoulder and said, "Wow, do you like Whitesnake?" Sizing her up, I replied in the only way I could: "I love Whitesnake."

My friend had to excuse himself.

Meanwhile, she and I embarked on a heady summer-long affair. I ground my teeth to the nerve endings listening to her Slaughter albums and she let me touch her breasts. It worked out pretty well.

I guess you could say I sold my soul to rock and roll.

"Hi, liar!"

It's not just the most TiVo-ed event of all time or the most searched for item in internet history anymore. Now it appears Janet Jackson's "releasing of the hound" is making some serious waves:

SINGAPORE - Viewer outrage over singer Janet Jackson's breast-baring Super Bowl stunt is forcing the U.S. television industry to change its programming style, the president of music channel MTV said today.

"The artist sometimes can be unpredictable, which is difficult in a live format. We were absolutely mortified by it," said Bill Roedy, president of London-based MTV Networks International, part of the U.S. MTV cable network that produced Jackson's half-time show.

This must be that obscure definition of the word "mortified" which means "cackling and gleefully rubbing hands together while rolling naked in a mountain of press releases."

It's in the OED. Look it up.

CBS, MTV's sister company, used an "enhanced delay" on its recent broadcast of the Grammy Awards and Walt Disney Co's ABC Network plans to implement a similar five-second delay on its Academy Awards broadcast later this month.

In addition to its own time delays, MTV has quietly consigned raunchy material, such as Britney Spears' video for her new single "Toxic," to evening from daytime slots.

MTV couldn't be more overjoyed at this. The Jackson incident has finally given them the excuse to begin the inevitable phase-out of music in favor of total reality programming like Sorority Life, The Osbournes, and Real World: Calcutta. If I didn't know better, I'd suspect Viacom had engineered the whole thing in order to divest themselves of videos entirely.

This, however, is my favorite part of the article:

Upset viewers filed more than 200,000 complaints about the incident, which Timberlake blamed on a "wardrobe malfunction," and quickly prompted the Federal Communications Commission to launch an investigation.

Riddle me this: if 89 million people were watching the Super Bowl at any given time, and 200,000 complained about the halftime show, that means 444 out of 445 viewers obiously didn't care enough to bitch to the FCC. Where are the telegrams and dictaphone calls of support for naked breasts on television? When will this silent majority be counted?

Oh, and this just in:

The House Commerce Committee's telecommunications subcommittee on Thursday voted to increase the fines that the FCC could level against broadcasters for broadcasting indecent material. The new fines would represent a tenfold increase from the current $27,000 to $270,000. The bill, by Republican Congressman Fred Upton of Michigan who chairs the subcommittee, received bipartisan backing and is expected to receive swift passage by the Congress and an equally swift signature from President Bush.

Open-ended wars on "terror"...record national debt and trade deficits...negative job growth for three years and thousands of American jobs exported overseas...good thing this administraton has its priorities straight.

Meanwhile, Georgia Senator Zell Miller declared Thursday that he particularly objected to the halftime performance by Kid Rock in which he wore an American flag poncho. The Associated Press quoted Miller as saying, "This is the same flag we pledge allegiance to, the same flag that is draped over the coffins of dead, young, uniformed warriors killed while protecting Kid Rock's bony butt."

You fucking clown. How is one talent-challenged jagoff sporting a star-spangled poncho more obscene than the fact that we have to continue making flags to drape "over the coffins of dead, young, uniformed warriors?" Would it help if I told you Kid Rock's flag, like most of those sold in this country, was probably made in China? Would that take the pain away?

"Oh, why won't anyone give me an award?"
"You won a Grammy."
"I mean an award that's worth winning."

Damn, here I was all prepared to tear the Grammys a new one after they awarded the Male Pop Vocal Performance to that sucking chest wound of creativity, Justin Timberlake, over Warren Zevon. I had this lengthy screed all mapped out in my head that would touch upon my previous coments about Zevon's slew of posthumous Grammy nominations - nominations that had never materialized during his actual real live career (and were given for arguably his weakest work). I even had a great bit on Zevon's win for Best Contemporary Folk Album, a high profile category whose losers were probably deemed least likely to start any shit.

So I'll be the first to admit I was pleasantly surprised. Not only at Zevon's win for Best Rock Vocal Perfromance (Duo or Group), but for the memorial montage set to "Keep Me in Your Heart," complete with backing chorus consisting of Zevon's son Jordan, Jorge Calderon, Timothy B. Schmidt, Emmylou Harris, Dwight Yoakum, Jackson Browne, and that actor guy. I'm not sure it erases the stain on the Academy's reputation left by the likes of Christopher Cross and Milli Vanilli, but nicely done nonetheless.

Now if they just could've done something similar for Johnny Cash.

"Smithers, have the Rolling Stones killed."

Someone (not Greg Morrow), commented on my Beatles-Stones entry of a couple days ago:

How dare you not express an opinion about which of the two bands was better and more important? Simply pursuing a value-neutral study of their respective morbidity/mortality is simply not bloggerly.

In the words of everyone's favorite cartoon rabbit, I throw myself on your tender mercies.

As far as my opinion on the Beatles vs. the Stones goes, I'd have to say I listen to each band in equal amounts these days. In other words, hardly at all. In historical terms, I was a huge Beatles fan growing up and into high school. During my drunken asshole years (late high school/college), I definitely preferred the Stones (with occasional spins of The White Album). Now that I'm a rapidly aging fart with a baby, I can see myself opting for the Beatles again. Make of that what you will.

Anyone else?

"Back then I was known as the 5th Be-atle."

Something I read in passing on Scott's blog caught my eye:

1) Yeah, some of the early Rolling Stones material sounds a lot like the Corvids. Let's not forget that the limie bastards (who I love very much, and who I think should have the stooopid Beatles shining their boots and bringing them their Geritol cocktails, but that's another rant for another day) were inspired by America -- not the other way around.

I don't know from the Corvids, but the Stones-Beatles thing got me thinking: who would've guessed back in the late '60s/early '70s that the Rolling Stones would still be alive and touring in the year 2003 and half the Beatles would be dead (and therefore unable to fulfill their boot-shining/Geritol fetching duties)?

Ex-Beatle Stu Sutcliffe got things started when he died of a brain hemorrhage in 1962. neither band had much cause to fear the Reaper until 1969, when ex-Stone Brian Jones shuffled off his mortal coil in quintessential rock star fashion: drowning in his mansion's swimming pool after too many chemicals.

As far as the Stones' starting lineup goes (though like Sutcliffe, Jones also had the decency to quit the band before croaking), that's really it. Ian Stewart died of a heart attack in 1985, but he was the road manager and piano player - the "sixth Stone." Credit him with a half point, I guess.

What shakes my faith in the inherent order of the cosmos more than anything, of course, is the fact that Keith Richards still walks the earth. It seems odd that vegetarian/ex-smoker George Harrison dies of cancer while Richards, still a multi-pack a day kinda guy, continues his demi-lich existence.

The Beatles, after Sutcliffe's departure and the ouster of Pete Best, were always a four-man group. Now down to two (and not counting manager Brian Epstein's death in 1967). The Stones, on the other hand, have counted eight members through their various incarnations (including Daryl Jones), and only one of them has punched his ticket. This from a band with a fine history of bad boy excess.

There's really no point to all this. Just thought it was curious.

I saw the Stones in 1989 on their "Steel Wheels" show in Dallas. This was back when the common concern expressed was, "Man, we better check out the Stones. This might be their last tour." Guess they showed us.

Right back to the crapola

And only because I'm actually on the computer doing something besides e-mailing relatives.

From the IMDb:

Producers of the hit ABBA musical Mamma Mia! are hoping to reunite the Swedish quartet as part of the show's fifth anniversary celebrations. The seventies supergroup have so far resisted all requests to get back together - and turned down a reported $1 billion four years ago for a reunion tour.

A billion dollars? This is a typo, right? Who actually has that kind of money to throw at half-hearted renditions of "SOS" and "Fernando" and why haven't they been defenestrated yet?

And aren't there any other Swedish bands that could reunite for less?

Too little, too late

Karin is dead on about this:

Missy Elliott, Eminem, Evanescence, 50 Cent, Chad Hugo, Ricky Skaggs, Justin Timberlake, the ailing Luther Vandross and the late Warren Zevon received five nominations each at a press conference for the 46th annual Grammy Awards.

Zevon got a Song of the Year nomination for "Keep Me In Your Heart," and Karin rightly pegged this as the "Obligatory Nod to the Honored Dead Guy." The voters' hands are clean now, however, so they're free to give the award to Avril Lavigne.

What a wonderful posthumous middle finger this is to Zevon, who got no love from Grammy voters for the first 34 years of his career. Like all the other vultures who descended on his dying carcass for one last story, the Grammys are angling for a little popular karma by giving the man 5 nominations.

Flavor Flav said it best (it's the seventh line).

Let's spend the Knight together

Keith Richards, Britain's favorite guitar-wielding lich, isn't too happy about Mick Jagger's knighthood:

The legendary Rolling Stones' guitarist has flown into a rock and roll rage against Mick Jagger over the singer's decision to accept a knighthood, the ultimate nod from the British establishment.

"I told Mick it's a paltry honor ... It's not what the Stones is about, is it?"

Gosh no, Keith. The Stones, like Eric Clapton and the Who, are about padding their already overfattened wallets by shilling for the likes of Microsoft ("Start Me Up"), Apple ("She's A Rainbow"), and Motorola ("You Can't Always Get What You Want"). Look at knighthood as just another corporate endorsement, and maybe you won't be so angry.

And - not to put too fine a point on it - maybe someone in your condition shouldn't be getting too worked up, hm?

Top 500 revisited

A Perfectly Cromulent Blog - beating dead horses since July, 2003.

In my earlier entry concerning Rolling Stone's Top 500 album listing, kodi made a comment about the number of "greatest hits" albums that made the list. I always considered it cheating to put such albums on a "Top n" list - either you have one album that's worthy on its own merits, or you don't. Even so, I imagine any big list of all-time greats would have a few anthologies. "Besides," I thought to myself as I went through the grocery store checkout with my own copy of the issue tonight, "How bad could it be?"

Holy underwear. The best thing you can say is that no greatest hits compilations made the top 20. Beyond that, it's pretty ridiculous. 45 of the remaining 480 albums are hit collections or career anthologies (#225 is the 10-disc Hank Williams retrospective). I wouldn't point this out, except why bother having Sly and the Family Stone's Greatest Hits at #60, when There's a Riot Goin' On and Stand both made the list separately? Why not just call the list the "Top 455" instead of including albums that don't have any sort of thematic element?

I'm not including live albums in the above count, as they usually include lesser known songs along with the band's top singles. And At Budokan by Cheap Trick rocks the house, boyee.

Other notes:

Hip-hop barely cracks the Top 50, with Public Enemy's It Take a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back clocking in at #48. After that, there's a surprisingly decent sampling including Run-DMC, N.W.A., A Tribe Called Quest, Dr. Dre, Eric B and Rakim, De La Soul, Outkast, The Wu-Tang Clan, EPMD, and BDP.

If you like country, you've got Hank Williams Sr. (the highest ranked at #129), Willie Nelson (The Red-Headed Stranger and Stardust), Dolly Parton, Patsy Cline, Lucinda Williams, Merle Haggard, and Loretta Lynn. One could stretch the category to include CSNY or the Byrds, but I won't.

It would be Big Fat Fun to go on at annoying length about the perceived outrages resulting from a purely subjective list put together by a bunch of music industry blowhards - because that would make so much sense - but I'll simply focus on the following tidbits:

+ The Replacements have two albums on the list (Tim and Let It Be), which is cool.

+ Uncle Tupelo, Warren Zevon, Wilco, the Flaming Lips, Whiskeytown, and Townes Van Zandt all failed to make the list. This means, according to RS voters, Cyndi Lauper, Beck, Portishead, and Janet Jackson are all qualitatively better. Which is bullshit.

+ George Michael's Faith (#480) is "greater" than Steve Earle's Guitar Town (#489).

+ Sonic Youth's Daydream Nation (#329) isn't up to par with Alanis Morissette's Jagged Little Pill (#327). By default, neither are Damaged by Black Flag (#340), Sketches of Spain by Miles Davis (#356), Double Nickels on the Dime by the Minutemen, or Rum Sodomy and the Lash by the Pogues (#445), to name but a few. "Interesting theory," as Abe Simpson would say.

Finally, after reading lists like this for the better part of 20 years, I have become convinced of the following things:

+ Nobody but music journalists give a shit about the following artists: Moby Grape, Television, Love, Captain Beefheart, Todd Rundgren, and Jackson Browne.

+ Lou Reed is horribly overrated. I'll give you the Velvet Underground albums (Nico and Loaded, anyway), but I've listened to Transformer and Berlin and frankly, they aren't that good. Must be a New York thing.

+ You can argue for U2's The Joshua Tree's placement at #26, but there is no way All That You Can't Leave Behind (#139) deserves to rank ahead of War (#221).

+ I like that Kraftwerk made the list (Trans-Europe Express is #253), but it's the only electronica aside from two Massive Attack albums,The Downward Spiral by NIN, and (I guess) Violator by Depeche Mode (#342).

Not many goths on the staff at Rolling Stone, by the looks of it. Joy Division's Closer is dutifully included at #157, but I was half expecting some Sisters of Mercy, at least.

Finally, what's the most telling evidence that this list is a bunch of crap? No Shatner.

Got ya covered

The internet radio station I'm listening to today is doing an all-covers broadcast. I'm not against the idea of covering another group's songs - whether out of honest respect or sarcasm - unless that's the only thing your band does. And even then, frat parties need music too. It's rare (like, decent Van Damme movie rare) to have a cover that actually surpasses the original, though. The new version can't just be a rehash; it has to add some new vocal or musical dimension that makes you sit up and take notice, or at least cock your head like a dog and blink a few times.

In the interest of a boring Wednesday-before-Thanksgiving, here are a few of the cover songs in that vein I've enjoyed over the years (the orignal artist is in parentheses). This is in no way comprehensive, so feel free to add your own favorites as the spirit moves you. Or point and laugh.

And I'll get "All Along the Watchtower" (Bob Dylan) by Jimi Hendrix out of the way right off the bat, as it's sort of the quintessential example of what I'm talking about.

"99 Red Balloons" (Nena) - 7 Seconds
"Alone Again Or" (Love) - The Damned
"Back in the High Life Again" (Steve Winwood) - Warren Zevon
"Cortez the Killer" (Neil Young) - Slobberbone
"Easy" (The Commodores) - Faith No More
"Everybody Knows" (Leonard Cohen) - Concrete Blonde
"Gin and Juice" (Snoop Doggy Dogg) - The Gourds
"Head On" (The Jesus and Mary Chain) - Pixies
"Hurt" (NIN) - Johnny Cash
"I Fought The Law" (Bobby Fuller Four) - The Clash
"In the Ghetto" (Elvis Presley) - Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
"No Depression" (The Carter Family) - Uncle Tupelo
"Piece of Crap" (Neil Young) - Slobberbone
"Rusty Cage" (Soundgarden) - Johnny Cash
"Stepping Stone" (The Monkees) - Minor Threat
"Take On Me" (a-ha) - Reel Big Fish
"The Metro" (Berlin) - System of a Down
"Tomorrow, Wendy" (Andy Prieboy) - Concrete Blonde
"Viva Las Vegas" (Elvis Presley) - Dead Kennedys

And, of course, "Mr. Tamborine Man" (The Byrds) by William Shatner.

It's also rare for a cover to be so bad that you just wince at the mention of it. I'm thinking of Frankie Goes to Hollywood's cover of "Born to Run" - "This town rips the bones from your back, it's a death trap, yeah a suicide rap" doesn't exactly conjure up images of Holly Johnson in his topcoat and gloves. Most cover versions are like the Ataris' version of "Boys of Summer" - which is possibly the most unironic do over of a song desperately screaming for a little levity.

Ah well, that's "emo" for you. I defy anyone to find me a Black Flag sticker on a Cadillac...that was put there by the car's owner, that is.

Oh joy

Melanie at delicate flower fires the first salvo I've seen at Rolling Stone for its latest roster of All-Time Terrificest Albums (they're up to 500). The top 10 list, typically, consists largely of records that came out right around the time I was born:

1. The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
2. Beach Boys - Pet Sounds
3. The Beatles - Revolver
4. Bob Dylan - Highway 61 Revisited
5. The Beatles - Rubber Soul
6. Marvin Gaye - What's Going On
7. Rolling Stones - Exile on Main Street
8. The Clash - London Calling
9. Bob Dylan - Blonde on Blonde
10. The Beatles - The White Album

The funny thing is, I remember the Top 100 (or whatever) list from the late '80s: "Sgt. Pepper's" was still #1, "Exile" was #3 and...unless I'm very much mistaken, Van Morrison's "Astral Weeks" was #2. I don't have the inclination to burrow through my closet of crap and try to find that particular issue, but it's pretty telling that they couldn't even stay consistent on their top 3. Did Van sleep with Jann Wenner's wife?

Could RS not think up one goddamned album released post-1979 that was deserving of top 10 status? Are the Beatles really that good? We have them to blame for Oasis, after all, and "The White Album" may have a top 10 release buried somewhere in it, but the actual album is far too uneven.

I would've at least expected a sop to Nirvana's "Nevermind," which seems to be the one post-Carter Administration release on which most mainstream critics can agree. I haven't seen the list yet (and I know I'll cave in eventually and buy the issue so I can piss and moan about it in the privacy of my own home), but I, like Melanie, have a hard time believing the Beatles and Dylan constitute 60% of the all-time greats. As far as Dylan goes, at least throw a Woody Guthrie record in there to acknowledge where Mr. Zimmerman got all his ideas.

Slightly off-topic, if you're not reading Melanie's stuff at the Austin Chronicle or the Houston Press, you should be.

For those about to suck

Norbizness knows my one weakness (the one I discuss in public, anyway): putting movies and bands into completely arbitrary categories for no other reason than to laugh at my own jokes.

He's compiled a taxonomy of bad rock music over at his blog. To his major phyla of Butt Rock, Wuss Rock, Crap Rock, and Shit Rock (Categories 1 and 2), I'll add the following:

Monk Rock - The unfortunate flotsam of the grunge movement: sad bastard bands that would be better served drinking Hull Cleaner than continuing to flagellate themseves and their audiences: Staind, Papa Roach, Puddle of Mudd, Disturbed, and any other band that assumes we find their off-key "bellow-aching" entertaining.

(Un)Punk Rock - "We've got tats and piercings and our hair is funny colors and we wear ripped clothes! That should distract you from the fact that our music is about as substantial as Air Supply's!" We're talking to you, Good Charlotte, Sum 41, and Blink 182.

Scrap Rock - What better way to cement your band's future obscurity than by releasing a cover song as your first single? I'm sure looking forward to the Ataris ("Boys of Summer") and Alien Ant Farm ("Smooth Criminal") joining Love Spit Love ("How Soon Is Now?") and Tiffany ("I Think We're Alone Now") on Crest Toothpaste's "Monsters of Mall" Tour in 2013.

Michele at A Small Victory has some ideas, too. Though I vehemently disagree with her assessment of Iron Maiden.

Metal Anonymous

Hi, I'm Pete, and I'm an Iron Maiden fan.

It all started in 1981, when "Killers" was released. I wasn't that familiar with their music (not many radio stations in my little slice of Texas featured "Wrathchild" on their playlists), it was just hard for a 12-year old horror freak not to think the artwork was wicked cool (admittedly, I thought Eddie was a girl at first). Besides, Bruce Dickinson had yet to join, and I know that I wouldn't have taken to them as well with original singer Paul Dianno.

"Number of the Beast" came out in 1982, and the album cover held the #1 spot all year as favorite verboten item to pass around at school (narrowly edging out Chinese jacks). If you were a junior high male that year, you had little choice but to be entranced by it, for not only did it depict Satan cackling over a sea of the damned, but Eddie manipulating Satan like a puppet. These guys didn't just have the devil on their albums, they controlled him. Gnarly!

"Number" was also the first Maiden album I bought, and as soon as "Invaders" kicked in I was hooked. Bruce Dickinson has the perfect 80's metal voice: Dio without the vibrato; operatic without being, you know, opera. They played fast but weren't exactly speed metal. Objectively, it's an adequate album. I liked it, but didn't love it the way that makes you play something start to finish a dozen times. That would be the next album.

The high point of my Maiden fandom came with 1983's "Piece of Mind." It was the whole package: straight ahead metal ("Where Eagles Dare"); cheesy prehistoric tales ("Quest for Fire"); and slower, guitar-centered pieces ("Revelations"). "Piece" also featured two of the finest metal songs of the 80's: "Flight of Icarus" and "The Trooper" (the latter, I'd argue, is one of the best songs of that decade, period). It didn't hurt that "Flight of Icarus" gave them their greatest period of MTV exposure.

Maiden fandom wasn't that risky, to be honest. I got harassed more for my glasses than for the crude Eddie-with-an-axe sketchwork on my book covers. We in the elite Dungeons and Dragons-playing junior high cabal were of like minds, and howled gleefully along with "Die With Your Boots On" while taking turns at "River Raid" on the Atari 2600.

Nothing good lasts. "Powerslave" was a bit of a letdown, and I was getting into punk by then. The Circle Jerks and the DKs started taking up most of my listening time, and their haircuts were easier to imitate anyway. I enjoyed "Live After Death," and I still think 1986's "Somewhere In Time" is a fine album (it's one of the few cassette tapes from that era that survives). In 1983 however, metal was on the verge of splitting into "hair" and "speed" varieties. Metallica's "Kill 'Em All" had just come out, and it signaled the beginning of a more punk-influenced metal sound.

I suppose the title of this entry is a bit misleading: I'm not ashamed of being a Maiden fan ("Maidenhead?"...I think "Trooper" is the official term). Good metal, like good cheese (stay with me), ages well. There are any number of craptastic "metal" bands from that era that are nigh unlistenable today (see Grim Reaper). Iron Maiden is still in my rotation, and I can wail along to "Wasted Years" in my car along with the best of 'em.

Besides, what other metal group has an all-female tribute band?

Okay, besides Sabbath. And KISS. And AC/DC.

Jingle all the way

I have vivid memories of the furor created when Michael Jackson bought the rights to the Beatles' entire catalog, then promptly sold "Revolution" to Nike. This was on the heels of the use of, among others, "Good Vibrations" by the Beach Boys to sell orange soda. The idea that the so-called artistic integrity of musicians could be compromised so easily was a heated topic of debate for a while before America went back to worrying about what Fawn Hall would be wearing to the Kennedy Center Honors. Like most people, I still managed to take note of when certain high profile songs appeared in commercials, though the end results were usually unsurprising. Was anyone all that shocked when the Rolling Stones let Microsoft use "Start Me Up" for their Windows 95 campaign? This from the band that's flogged the dying horse of their career for the last 20+ years?

Time was when we wannabe hipsters mocked the bands which sold their souls to Miller Genuine Draft (Phil Collins, Eric Clapton) or whatever it was Bachman Turner Overdrive allowed to use "You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet" (as if BTO needed further mocking). In recent years, however, it's startling how soon bands go from underground, word-of-mouth acts to pitchmen for the Gap or Hummer. This leads to the obvious question: can you be dubbed a sell-out if you haven't actually established artistic credibility?

There are still some notable holdouts: Neil Young, for one, and others like Bruce Springsteen and Paul Westerberg and dozens of others who, just because they haven't yet, doesn't mean they won't. Obviously I'm not counting bands that are either too freaky (the Residents) or those whose use as a product endorser would cause the company to fold (Marilyn Manson). Even artists once regarded as above such things, like the Clash and U2, have succumbed to the lure of easy money (admittedly, Mick Jones and company waited until Joe Strummer was in the ground before becoming automobile pitchmen).

Part of the problem is that most of the songs grabbed for commercials these days sound like they were written specifically for advertising: they're vaguely catchy and instantly forgettable. Most of the time, I'm not even aware I'm hearing something not specifically written to sell erectile dysfunction products. Honestly, it wasn't until songs that I actually liked started popping up in ads that I began to take notice.

For a bad example, I always kind of enjoyed the Sundays' version of the Stones' "Wild Horses," so it was a little jarring to see the Budweiser commercial that featured it (not nearly as disconcerting as the first time I saw the "London Calling" Jag commercial, however).

Nowadays, I tend to assume any jingle on a given commercial is some new pop song that's been co-opted for advertising. I have less of a problem with that than I do with established acts who continue to whore themselves for no good reason, frankly. The way the music industry operates at present (and I think Michael owes me a rant on this subject), 95% of new bands will be lucky to record a second album, much less establish a respectable career. If they keep up the endorsements, however, they get lumped in with the Britneys, Stones, and Aerosmiths of the world as acts that are less artists than salesmen.

A fact which I'm sure will trouble them mightily.

"You apparently had a lung removed"

There's an interview with Paul Westerberg in the this week's Onion. The ex-'Mats frontman opines on everything from success...

We went from cult figures to unpopular cult figures.

...to Tom Petty stealing his lines...

I'd steal something back from him, if I could find something I liked.

...to an acoustic tour:

It's the first one I've ever made money on. It shows how stupid I am. I've toured about a hundred times and lost money every time, just because it all goes to the drum tech and all that shit.

Go read it. The Head Beagle commands y...oh, sorry. That was something else.

9/26 Slobberbone show

As Kevin has already noted, Slobberbone played Friday night at the Continental Club. I'll give the show a sold "A-," only because their Neil Young encore consisted of "Like A Hurricane" and not "Cortez the Killer," which I never tire of hearing (as long as it's not the Indigo Girls doing it). Seriously, if you haven't heard the Bone play "Cortez," go to one of their shows and bellow incessantly for it until they either comply or you're hauled out of the club and beaten with truncheons.

Lots of emphasis on older material, which is okay with me. I like their newest, Slippage, just fine, but I never tire of "I Can Tell Your Love is Waning" (the best song ever to refer to Schaefer beer) or "One Rung." Their lack of recent time on the road was telling when Jess muffed his guitar solo on "Can't Stay Sober," but no one really cared. The calls for "Gimme Back My Dog" were answered to everyone's satisfaction, and the staggeringly drunk guy in front of the stage who looked liked a gone-to-seed Wooderson from "Dazed and Confused" was placated by a fine rendition of "Josephine."

They also performed a nifty acoustic version of "Write Me Off," which I never was that fond of before.

It was great meeting Alex, Kevin, and the lovely and talented Callie Friday night. After pimping Slobberbone to anyone who'll bother listening for the last four years, the band came through in fine form, I am now due a trip to the Firehouse.

Get the Bock out of here

Since 1994, the Spoetzl Brewery in Shiner, TX (makers of fine Shiner beer for almost 100 years) have held a music festival on the brewery grounds in October called, rhapsodically enough, “Bocktoberfest” (the "first" Bocktoberfest was actually a repeat of the "Thanks a Million" celebration of 1993 where Shiner thanked its customers for buying a million cases of Shiner, but that's not important now). I attended two such festivals: the first in 1998 (the year of The Flood) and again in 1999, but events have transpired to keep me away the last few years. Nothing important really, just trivial things like my irrational aversion to paying $7 for a cup of Shiner Bock, crowds composed increasingly of loutish mooks, and the dwindling number of friends who feel compelled to sit around for an entire day drinking beer (or the equally dwindling number of people willing to drive said drinkers).

One thing you could always rely on, however, was the fact (one prominently advertised by the organizers in the early years) that the musical acts featured were all based in Texas. Audiences have been treated to performances by everyone from the Hollisters to Todd Snider to Trish Murphy to Junior Brown. Robert Earl Keen headlined five times in a row, and six overall. The shows I went to had a very backyard barbecue feel to them, with everyone lounging around on the grass, drinking beer, and listening to the tunes.

A subtle change could be felt in the last few years, though. The Mighty Mighty Bosstones appearing on the bill in 2000 didn’t cause too much of a ruckus, maybe because Robert Earl was still the headliner. Jerry Jeff Walker – and hey, does anyone every get tired of hearing “Sangria Wine?” – stepped in as the main act in ’01. Luckily, that year also had The Reverend Horton Heat (still one of the best live shows I’ve ever seen) and Joe Ely. Then last year Collective Soul somehow slipped in. They may be from another Southern state, but still, it kind of threw off the vibe laid down by the Derailers and ex-Sister 7 lead singer Patrice Pike. Robert Earl still headlined though, so a balance of sorts was (tentatively) maintained.

I should point out that while I enjoy a lot of REK's music, I no longer go see him live, as every concert of his I've attended in the last five years resembles a Texas Tech ATO mixer. If I want to rub elbows with drunken fratboys, I can go to Sherlock’s.

This year, though, top 40 darlings Nickelback are headlining. Also included will be the nu-metal stylings of Trapt and Dodge truck jingle-writers Cross Canadian Ragweed. I guess festival organizers are chucking the whole “Texas music festival” angle in favor of holding yet another in an infinite series of generic regional “rock fests” that spring up like crab grass all over the country in the summer and fall. What’s even more jarring is seeing early slots still being held down by smaller local acts. I just wonder how many Stephanie Urbina-Jones and Terri Hendrix fans are going to stick around to hear “Too Bad” with all the other mosh puppies.

– And they will mosh, don’t kid yourself. I used to think (back in my combat boot-clad Dark Ages, when we called it “slam dancing”) that there was just some music you flat out could not “mosh” to. Seeing a handful of goofs trying it at a Nickel Creek (not to be confused with this year’s Bocktoberfest headliners) show cured me of that illusion. Jesus.

Back on topic, this isn’t some aging music fan’s screed against new music. I like plenty of new stuff, just not generic, bellowing crap like Nickelback and Trapt (when do we get Korn and Linkin Park on the bill?). I don’t even have anything specific against these bands, but they already have places to play. VH1 showed one of Nickleback’s concerts earlier this year, and thanks to Clear Channel and its ilk you can hear their songs on the hard rock stations, the top 40 stations, and the “alternative” stations, often within the same hour. Bocktoberfest was nice because it gave a bigger venue to acts that didn't usually get a shot at them (Todd Snider, Carolyn Wonderland). I’m glad artists like Hendrix and Urbina-Jones are still playing, but how long do you think that will last? How long before “Bocktoberfest” becomes “Rocktoberfest” and moves to the SBC Center in San Antonio?

Ah, the hell with it. Three hours to Slobberbone.

Boning up

"Slobberbone can keep a fan faithful; one need not cheat when each album improves upon the last." – Robert Wilonsky, Dallas Observer

Amen, brother.

My favorite band will be playing at the Continental Club in Houston this Friday. It's a good venue for the 'bone, as it's both bigger and less oppressively smoke-filled than upstairs at Rudyard's.

It's still pretty smoky, though. The better to keep wandering yuppies out.

In the four years I've been going to Slobberbone shows, I have yet to see them put on a bad one. That kind of consistency should be enough to win them more fans, but it's hard to get the word out when none of the fifteen local Clear Channel affiliates see fit to vary from their perpetual loop of Nickelback, Evanescence, and Corporate Unit Shifter #347.

So I'm going, at least. There's should be a decent crowd, especially considering it's been many moons since they played Houston. I've never seen the opening act, Back Porch Mary, but any band that plays the Crystal Bar in Alpine is all right with me.

Some jokes just write themselves

Ladies and gentlmen, Barbra Streisand!

LOS ANGELES, California (Reuters) -- Barbra Streisand says she finds listening to her own songs is so boring that it was one of the reasons she gave up public performances three years ago.

And I thought I was alone. Thanks, Babs.

Insult to injury

"Injury," in this case, meaning "death after a long illness."

Larry has brought to our attention the fact that the 2004 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame nominations were released today and, once again, Warren Zevon is nowhere to be found:

NEW YORK - Former Beatle George Harrison (news), Prince, John Mellencamp (news) and Jackson Browne (news) are among the nominees on the 2004 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ballot.

Previous nominees back for another try include the Sex Pistols, Black Sabbath, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Gram Parsons and Patti Smith. Other nominees include The Dells, The "5" Royales, Bob Seger, the Stooges, Traffic and ZZ Top.

I was a little surprised to find the Sex Pistols weren't already in, likewise Patti Smith and Black Sabbath. But Bob Seger? Shouldn't having a song featured in a car commercial officially strip you of any "rock and roll" designation?

On second thought, I guess not. That would probably disqualify 90% of current inductees.

Artists can be indicted into the Hall as long as it's been 25 years since their first album was released. Zevon released "Wanted: Dead or Alive" in 1969. The math is easy to do, especially if you add the present Hall of Famers who collaborated on "The Wind" (and even subtracting Billy Bob Thornton).

Double Whammy

First WZ, now the Man in Black:

(CNN) -- He was a poor sharecropper's son from Kingsland, Arkansas, who sang to himself while picking cotton in the fields -- then later sang to millions through recordings, concerts and his late-'60s TV variety show.

He became a country music statesman who found a home with rap-rock producer Rick Rubin's American Recordings.

He was called the "Man in Black," who once sang "I shot a man in Reno/Just to watch him die," but opened his concerts with the friendly, modest greeting, "Hello, I'm Johnny Cash."

Johnny Cash -- legend, model, icon -- died Friday. He was 71.

What a crummy week for music fans.

Intruder in the dirt

Singer Warren Zevon dead at 56.

Well, it's not like it was a big surprise. I've blogged and written about Zevon at obnoxious length, and the preemptive obituaries and tributes finally ballooned elsewhere around the time "The Wind" was released last month. There's not much more to say, frankly.

UPDATE: Okay, that came across as a little brusque. I suppose it's because I've been mentally preparing myself for the inevitable for a year now and it still comes as a shock, which is a bit surprising. Anyway, the Warren Zevon Other Page has a great list of links to some of the articles about WZ, and many are well worth checking out. Rolling Stone has an archive of all their Zevon articles and reviews, for example, and there's a link to a nice tribute by Tim O'Neil at Movie Poop Shoot.

VH1 has also nobly decided to refrain from its umpteenth repeat of "I Love the Crappy Overrated Decade that All of Us Would Do Well To Forget Already" to air their special "(Inside)Out: Warren Zevon" again, this Wednesday (Sept. 10) at 8/7c PM. Check it out if you haven't.

"Requiescat in pace, that's all she wrote." - Warren Zevon, "Life'll Kill Ya"

Posse clownitatus

Some slow news days are worse than others.

Insane Clown Posse Named Worst Rock Band

LOS ANGELES (Reuters) - Insane Clown Posse, the Detroit rap duo beloved by teenage boys for their creepy face make-up and X-rated lyrics, have been named the worst band ever by Blender magazine.

The music publication's September issue said Insane Clown Posse "sound even stupider than they look," and derided them for rapping about "40-ouncers and venereal disease."

Lists like Blender's "50 Worst Artists in Music History" are designed for no other reason than to goad people into sputtering paroxysms of indignation. The magazine can look forward to lots of letters and e-mails saying, "How could you be so stupid as to leave 'X' off of your list? You guys wouldn't know good/real/honest music if it sat on your face." or, alternately, "There's no way 'Y' belongs on your list, you guys are retarded/jealous/ignorant assholes." Meanwhile, and bearing an eerie similarity to the obscenity hooplah surrounding 2 Live Crew in the late 80's, ICP will reap oodles of undeserved publicity for their curiously repugnant mix of rap, metal, and scatology.

To prove my point (and so you won't have to buy the magazine), here's the whole list:

50. Iron Butterfly
49. Toad the Wet Sprocket
48. Master P
47. Goo Goo Dolls
46. The Spin Doctors
45. Gipsy Kings
44. Manowar
43. Mike & the Mechanics
42. Rick Wakeman
41. Whitesnake
40. Blind Melon
39. Bob Geldof
38. Nelson
37. The Doors
36. 98 Degrees
35. Paul Oakenfold
34. Live
33. Japan
32. The Hooters
31. Arrested Development
30. Richard Marx
29. Skinny Puppy
28. Crash Test Dummies
27. Color Me Badd
26. Celine Dion
25. Jamiiroquai
24. Bad English
23. Creed
22. Primus
21. The Alan Parsons Project
20. Howard Jones
19. Dan Fogelberg
18. Pat Boone
17. Benzig
16. Oingo Boingo
15. Yanni
14. Yngwie Malmsteen
13. Mick Jagger
12. Tin Machine
11. LaToya Jackson
10. Air Supply
9. Lee Greenwood
8. Vanilla Ice
7. Asia
6. Kansas
5. Starship
4. Kenny G
3. Michael Bolton
2. Emerson, Lake & Palmer
1. Insane Clown Posse

I don't have a problem with including artists just to piss people off - Doors fans across the nation are probably leaping to the defense of the Lizard King as we speak - but get some historical perspective. Without the Bay City Rollers or NKOTB there wouldn't be a 98 Degrees, for example. And, IMO, including bands like Tin Machine, who were around for one album, is about as challenging as putting one-hit wonders on there (shocked, shocked I am that Vanilla Ice and Color Me Badd found their way onto this list).

From the preponderance of prog rock outfits and the utter lack of any bands of the nü metal variety, I suspect this list was cobbled together by twenty-something dudes making fun of their parents' record collections. The only thing that irritates me is that someone actually got paid for it.

And one more thing: There's no way Oingo Boingo belongs on your list, you guys are ignorant assholes.

Don't take my word for it...

Listen to what this guy has to say:

Ask me to name the greatest rock & roll song of all time and I have to say it's a three-way tie between Slobberbone's "Gimme Back My Dog," Count Five's "Psychotic Reaction," and Elvis Costello's "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love, and Understanding."

That from Stephen King's new Entertainment Weekly column.

I've never heard "Psychotic Reaction," but I think Elvis Costello is pretty good company. And while some may argue that King should've hung it up after The Stand, I will continue to extol the virtues of Denton, Texas' own Slobberbone to any and all who care to listen. I've seen them live about three dozen times and will continue to do so as long as they keep touring (currently 250-300 dates a year). They are, quite simply, one of the best bands - rock or otherwise - that I've ever heard.

Open Letter to a Former Favorite Band

Dear Old 97's,

At the risk of sounding like a whiny little bitch, I didn't much care for your most recent studio release, "Satellite Rides."

Judging by the reviews on your web site, I may be the only human in known space who holds this opinion. To be fair, it's a better CD than "Fight Songs," it's predecessor. That particular disc spent about two weeks in rotation before I decided I was never, no matter how many times I played it, going to like a song like "Murder or a Hear Attack." Better to dub "Jagged" and "What We Talk About" onto a compilation disc and move on. No, "Rides" has more going for it. It's less self-conscious - the band plays with much more confidence than was evident on "Songs" - and if all but the slightest hint of your former alt-country ways have been abandoned, like a Stars and Bars gimme cap you find in the trash at a Dartmouth mixer, so be it.

There's nothing wrong with so-called "pop" music. For example (and for those not already sick of "y'allternative" references in popular media), I believe that between Wilco's "AM" and Son Volt's "Trace," the two initial releases by the bands formed following the demise of Uncle Tupelo, "AM" is a fundamentally better album. Not because you can dance to it, but because there's almost a joyous sound of shackles bursting when you put the former into your stereo and the the first chords of "I Must Be High" ring out. Volt's Jay Farrar may be one of the Best He is At What He Does, but what he does is not terribly compelling or original. Jeff Tweedy, Farrar's partner-in-crime with Tupelo, always had more of a pop sensibility anyway. These days, Wilco has built a strong following thanks to the critical praise for "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot," while Son Volt has split up, leaving Farrar ro go it solo. Make of that what you will.

Clearly, there are worse things a band can do than assume a more popular pose. All the cries of "sell-out" and "corporate rock" mask the reality that some artists can go on to be much more successful and still maintain at least a modicum of integrity. Still, there's a distinct contrast to the songs on "Wreck Your Life" and "Too Far to Care" versus those on "Satellite Rides" and "Fight Songs." There may still be some gems to be found amidst the new mod sound of "Rides:" "Buick City Complex" and "Up the Devil's Pay" for instance. And no one can say that Rhett Miller isn't one of the more canny lyricists around, Murry Hammond doesn't have a keen sense of country history or a fine ear for harmonies, or that Ken Bethea and Philip Peeples play with anything less than full on to-the-wall balls.

So why does it feel so calculated?

I suppose what doesn't make sense is the idea that power pop has always been the way you guys have wanted to go. If that were the case, why waste time on your first few albums doing covers of Waylon and Bob Wills? Why ask Exene Cervenka to sing "Four Leaf Clover" with you? If songs like the bouncy "King of All the World" are really where your musical heart has been, why bother to write songs like "Timebomb?"

Do you see where I'm going with this? Only an asshole would want his favorite band to toil in obscurity, remaining known only to him and a select few, rather than achieve success. I gather one of the motivating factors for *staying* in a band is money, and if what you're playing isn't in some way popular you may as well hang it up and go back to your cubicle. That being the case, why toy around with country at all? According to your old web page (which is no longer online), Murry was the only real fan of Western music. IIRC, Rhett started as a folkie, Ken was more into classic rock, and Philip was a punk (though I'm not being so blasé as to suggest y'all had no other interests, I'm lumbering towards a point here). Indeed, songs like "Over the Cliff" and "Melt Show" from the earlier albums proved you guys could have just as easily gone down the twangcore road, and it's to your credit that you were able to so deftly weave 'Mats-like elements into your earlier songs.

Plenty of bands change their sound, but you definitely don't hear many people describing U2 as one of the most important bands around anymore. Just the opposite, they're the Stephen King of the music world: people buy their music more out of inertia than anything else, and figure they may get around to listening to it during the weekend while cutting the grass. The difference with them is that I think their change in styles came more out of boredom with their five albums worth of anthemic message music, "Unforgettable Fire" notwithstanding (to say nothing of the critical daisy cutter that was "Rattle and Hum"). Bono et. al., tired of posturing as rock's "serious band," decided to have a little fun, and they did. So what if the music reeked? How many Bentleys does one person need, anyway?

Which is what makes me a little suspicious. Your first album (not the 1993 EP) came out in 1994 - not alternative country's watershed year, but there was still a lot of noise of that ilk being made. As time has stumbled on, more and more of the bands associated with that movement have either broken up or else significantly morphed to the extent that they no longer fit the category. To be fair, a lot of the groups lumped into the "insurgent country" melting pot didn't really belong there to begin with. While the crowds for your first few tours were enthusiastic, if not huge, you guys still had a pretty loyal core following by the time "Too Far Too Care" hit. The recent style change makes sense from a mass-marketing perspective, I suppose. It just seems a shame to turn away so utterly from the sound that made many people take notice of you guys in the first place.

I'd like to call it a coincidence, but I can't help recalling Ryan Adams' snide comments about your "fake Texas accents" on "Hitchhike to Rhome." I even listened to it again the other day and was struck by how hick-ish "Drowning in the Days" sounds compared to anything off the latest album.

I try not to be cynical about shit like this, but circumstantial evidence is sometimes hard to overlook.

And just last year Rob Thomas, Rob freaking Thomas, he of the odious matchbox twenty, was giving you props...and you were publicizing the fact. It's one thing to move past your roots, but you guys seem to be attempting to erase any evidence of their existence, if somewhat reluctantly. You play your new stuff, dutifully, on Leno and Conan, but I've seen the band live recently and there's simply no denying that more energy comes out of an encore performance of "Doreen" than all the songs from the last two albums combined.

So I wish you all the best, and hope everything works out the way you guys want. I'll just be spending my money elsewhere.

Sincerely,

Pete

P.S. One other thing, the mod look doesn't really do it for you guys. I mean, what would Hoss have said?

Whinge of the Road

I had the misfortune of hearing the Metallica cover of Bob Seger's "Turn the Page" on internet radio earlier today. It's a shame about Metallica, who morphed from speed metal to more straightforward rock around the time their "black" album came out. This signaled the end of songs like "Disposable Heroes" and "Creeping Death" in favor of power ballads and songs about touring, like the aforementioned Seger tune.

Bands never learn: audiences don't want to hear millionaire musicians lamenting how tough it is "on the road." To the average listener, a concert tour is an unending cornucopia of Jack Daniels, coke, and blow jobs. Someone working in a cubicle 40 hours a week and desperately hoping their IT position doesn't get farmed out to Singapore doesn't need to hear how a bunch of grown men suffering from Peter Pan syndrome don't like going to bed alone. Going to bed alone? The guys in Aerosmith can get groupies, for Christ's sake, what form of leprosy does a rock star have to have that he couldn't get some community college dropout with low self-esteem to plaster cast him?

These songs also drone on and on about the monotony of touring. Seger's "Turn the Page" is a particularly egregious example:

When you're riding 16 hours and there's nothing much to do.

Read a book, Bob. Hell, write a book. Work on new songs. Do your taxes. Offer to drive the bus, even. Better yet, reflect on the lucky turn of events that allow you to doze on a chartered Trailways while everyone else from your high school class is working in a lumber mill.

I don't want to spend too much time on "The Load-Out" by Jackson Browne, who at least hit his peak during the 1970's, when that kind of earnest self-pity was still somewhat in vogue. He even gives a detailed list of the things they have to occupy their time:

Now we got country and western on the bus
R and B, we got disco in eight tracks and cassettes in stereo
We've got rural scenes & magazines
We've got truckers on the CB
We've got Richard Pryor on the video

Considering this song was written in 1977, I'd think having "Richard Pryor on the video" would be pretty swanky. Hell, I bet they even had Pong.

The worst offender in this category, however, remains Bon Jovi. "Wanted Dead or Alive" stands above all other bitchy road songs (CCR's "Lodi" and "Stay with Me" by the Faces, for example) for three reasons:

1) If anything is worse than whining about what a drag it is to be a rock star on tour, it's comparing yourself to a cowboy (especially when you moonlight in Versace commercials). Jon Bon Jovi does both in "Wanted."

2) Unlike Seger or Browne, Bon Jovi had MTV to help spread his bilge. Contemporary audiences had the pleasure of seeing the Aquanet-enabled lads gazing longingly out of bus windows and sweating up a storm as they saw a million faces, and rocked them all.

3) My freshman roommate stayed up until 4 in the morning one night trying to learn the intro to this song on guitar. Which means he'd let the 45 RPM single play for about thirty seconds while he picked along, then he'd lift the needle and start over. Repeat 500 times.

Granted, I wasn't actually in the room with him (I was across the hall), but jeez.

If touring is that big a strain on their delicate constitutions, you'd think bands like Bon Jovi would do us all a favor and quit. It would at least spare us the attendant traffic snarls and hyperventilating adulation when their latest ego gratification festival comes to town.

Mr. Bad Example and the Man in Black

As excited as I am at the thought of a new Warren Zevon album ("The Wind," coming out August 26), I'm afraid it will be the last we hear from him. I know he's outlasted the initial projections, when he was first diagnosed with mesthelioma in August of last year, that he only had a few months left. I just have the feeling once the new album's out and he no longer has the day-to-day studio routine to keep him occupied, that'll be that. For now, he's scheduled to appear on Rockline tonight, 11 PM CST. Now I just hope I can find a station that carries it, since none of the Houston "rock" stations are listed as an affiliate.

I've already opined at length on Zevon. Go here if you're interested. He'll be missed.

And so will Johnny Cash. I've got nothing but respect for this man: for his past accomplishments, and for the music he keeps making. As his health fails, he's gone from writing and singing some of the most important American music of the last century to making outstanding cover versions of other artists' songs. The latest in this series of "American Recordings," called "The Man Comes Around," came out last year and features Cash's versions of "Personal Jesus," "I Hung My Head," and an amazing version of "Hurt" by Nine Inch Nails.

The video is even up for 6 MTV Video Music Awards later this month. Go watch it here. It intercuts recent footage of a venerable Cash playing guitar and piano with scenes from his past. It's poignant and haunting and is one of the saddest things I've ever seen.

I realize that not everyone is as big a fan of Zevon as I am, but a lack of appreciation for Johnny Cash's music isn't just un-American...it's inhuman. And when musicians like these are gone, who do we turn to next? Where are the artists of today that are going to resonate like these guys? Brian "Marilyn Manson" Warner? Fred Durst? Toby "Boot in Your Ass" Keith? Bono?

Even artists in roughly the same demographic are unlikely to make as big an impact (once you get past Willie "Cheeba" Nelson, that is). The biggies like George Jones have never had Cash's crossover success. Hell, apart from Willie I'd have to say the only artist who may have a quarter of the legacy of Johnny Cash is Bruce Springsteen. Like him or not, you have to respect his integrity.

Other musicians with Cash's longevity (although at 70, Cash still has at least 10 years on most of them) have either lapsed into self-parody (the Rolling Stones, Elton John) or virtual seclusion (Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton). The Who's Pete Townshend hasn't been a popular artist in years, and is even less of one now (a fact for which he has only himself to blame). And Paul McCartney - one of the richest human beings in the history of Christendom - is in danger of alienating any remaining fans over his pissing match with the dead songwriting partner who was a thousand times the musician he'll ever be. Hey Paul, how many songs do you think drummer Bill Berry wrote for R.E.M.? Yet every one of their goddamned songs is credited to "Berry-Buck-Mills-Stipe."

You already put Ringo in his place, Sir Paul. Your penance is to go buy Zevon's "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead" and Cash's "Love, God, Murder" box sets. Go your way and sin no more.

Cheap Joke of the Day

From the Associated Press:

Hundreds of portable toilets are seen at Downsview Park in Toronto, Canada on Monday July 28, 2003 at the site of the upcoming Rolling Stones' SARS relief concert.

The band will perform with more than 15 other acts as part of a concert that is expected to draw more than 450,000 people Wednesday.

Makes sense. The Stones' new stuff is total crap.

Ba-dum-bump.