Glam-Racket

Riot Guitarist Mark Reale Passes Away While I Become Fixated By An Albino Seal

2012-01-26T22:23:00.004-05:00

A few weeks ago, That Metal Show host Eddie Trunk referred to a band that I had never heard before, Riot. I take what Trunk says with a grain of salt. He is impossibly good at worthless trivia, but his taste in music occasionally dips into helpless nutswinging, particularly when he’s praising the work of bands still working the circuit with one or two original members, still hashing out roadwork well past their prime.

He went on to call Riot’s sophomore effort an overlooked classic, indicating that he had done some liner notes for that record’s re-issue, Fire Down Under.

I began doing some research on the band, the results of which may come out in a review from me later, but what I wasn’t prepared for was the album art of Fire Down Under and the inclusion of-well we’ll just call him a creature-that appears on the cover of it and on several of their records thereafter.

If Iron Maiden had “Eddie,” then Riot had a similar spokesmodel. I don’t know the name of it, all I know is that it’s both bizarre and hilarious at the same time. I’m guessing it’s some kind of seal creature.

For me, a white albino seal is the farthest fucking thing from “metal,” and its inclusion had me laughing in tears at the sight of it. And to include the same creature on other albums meant that the members of Riot were dead serious about this freaky thing legitimately becoming their mascot.

Now, the Iron Maiden comparison is no joke, and it goes beyond the half-hearted similarities of their respective mascots. A few You Tube samples proved that this metal band from New York was dead serious at replicating their own version of the New Wave of British Heavy Metal, and I’ll be goddamned that they were pretty good at their facimiles.

I need to hear more about this band, so feel free to use the comment section to fill me in on this new discovery.

Meanwhile, in a bit of weird synchronicity, the founding member of Riot, guitarist Mark Reale, just died yesterday while he and Riot were rehearsing for a date in Dallas. Reale had Crohn’s Diesease for most of his life, and found himself being rushed to a hospital from complications from the disease. How this translated into the subarachnoid hemorrhage that he died from is a mystery to me and it blows my mind that I am now just discovering this underrated band for the first time.

Eddie Trunk was right it seems, and I wonder if his extensive trivia knowledge can help explain how Riot came to create the half man/half albino seal creature as their mascot.

Lonely Forest Give Arrows The Wax Treatment And Embark On Tour

2012-01-24T21:01:00.004-05:00

No Iowa dates. Bummer. There's nothing better in winter than hot pop wax.

Speaking of:

"The Lonely Forest will head out with Portugal. The Man on a nationwide tour this Spring. The 5-week outing will take them to both coasts, with stops in New York, Los Angeles, Boston, Chicago, San Francisco and more. The band is riding on the success of their latest album Arrows, and new single "Go Outside" is heating up at radio, with Sirius "Alt Nation" leading the way. Arrows will also be released on vinyl for the first time next Tuesday, on January 31.

Arrows has received overwhelming acclaim since its release on Trans Records/Atlantic Records. NPR calls it "one of the best and most honest slices of pop music around," and the accolades continue to come in from the likes of SPIN, New York Magazine, Nylon, Teen Vogue, Alternative Press, Paste, and was featured on several year-end lists including NPR, Amazon and more. The band made their national television debut August 2 on Jimmy Kimmel Live!, performing "We Sing In Time" and "Go Outside." Additionally, Arrows was in the Top 10 most added at CMJ upon its release, and the first single, "We Sing In Time" has proven to be a smash hit at the band's hometown station, 107.7 The End, in Seattle.

The Lonely Forest spent most of 2011 on the road, including outings with Death Cab For Cutie, The Joy Formidable, Two Door Cinema Club and Minus the Bear as well as a show-stopping set at Seattle's Bumbershoot Festival, which saw them playing to thousands of people on the festival's main stage.

A music video for the song "We Sing In Time" premiered earlier this summer on MTVU. MTV's Buzzworthy Blog calls it "a powerful, visually striking work that'll scare and sadden." View that here: http://on.mtv.com/tlfmtvbuzz.

Trans Records is the new label headed by Chris Walla, guitarist and producer for Grammy-nominated rock band Death Cab for Cutie, who found The Lonely Forest's music so compelling he made the band his label's very first signing. Walla produced and engineered Arrowsat Sound City studio in Los Angeles, Tiny Telephone in San Francisco and his own, Portland-based studio, Alberta Court. The balance of the album was mixed by John Goodmanson (Girls, Nada Surf, Weezer).

"The Lonely Forest proves to me," says Walla, "In a time full of throwbacks and references and meta-references, that nothing can beat a focused, bulletproof guitar rock band with amazing songs. I didn't start a label for nothing."

Hailing from Anacortes, WA - a small island town on Puget Sound - The Lonely Forest has risen to national recognition after years spent building a loyal following throughout the Northwest. The Lonely Forest is singer/guitarist/keyboardist John Van Deusen, guitarist Tony Ruland, drummer Braydn Krueger and bassist Eric Sturgeon.

THE LONELY FOREST TOUR DATES:

w/ Portugal. The Man

4/03/12 - Boise, ID @ Knitting Factory
4/04/12 - Las Vegas, NV @ Club Veil
4/06/12 - Phoenix, AZ @ The Crescent Ballroom
4/09/12 - New Orleans, LA @ House of Blues
4/10/12 - Gainesville, FL @ Florida Theater of Gainesville

4/11/12 - Tampa, FL @ The Ritz Ybor
4/12/12 - Orlando, FL @ Beacham Theater
4/14/12 - Athens, GA @ The Georgia Theatre
4/15/12 - Lexington, KY @ Busters
4/16/12 - Indianapolis, IN @ The Vogue
4/17/12 - Chicago, IL @ Vic Theatre
4/19/12 - Baltimore, MD @ Ram's Head Live
4/20/12 - Brooklyn, NY @ Music Hall of Williamsburg
4/21/12 - Sayreville, NJ @ Starland Ballroom
4/22/12 - Boston, MA @ House of Blues
4/24/12 - Buffalo, NY @ Town Ballroom
4/25/12 - Columbus, OH @ Newport Music Hall
4/26/12 - Nashville, TN @ Cannery Ballroom
4/29/12 - St. Louis, MO @ The Pageant
4/30/12 - Kansas City, MO @ Beaumont Club
5/02/12 - Denver, CO @ Ogden Theatre
5/03/12 - Flagstaff, AZ @ The Orpheum Theater
5/04/12 - Pomona, CA @ Fox Theater
5/05/12 - San Diego, CA @ 4th and B
5/06/12 - San Francisco, CA @ The Independent

Arrows on vinyl is available for pre-order now at The Lonely Forest Webstore

New Dinosaur Jr. Live DVD and J. Mascis Throbblehead

2012-01-23T21:36:00.001-05:00

J. looks totally awesome with his white hair and full-on beard, and when you throw a full on rendition of Bug to boot, this is bound to be a safe purchase.

Dinosaur Jr. released at least two essential albums-Bug being one of them-and a few others that I still find to be required listening. And to think all of that power comes from an unassuming fellow who speaks like a frail, old man.

And I didn’t forget about the J. Mascis Throbblehead either:

"In addition to the In the Hands of the Fans project J Mascis has joined the ranks of the Aggronautix Throbblehead elite.

This figure is limited to 1000 numbered units, stands at 7 inches tall, and is made of a lightweight polyresin.

J is accurately sculpted right down to the big ole glasses, rockin' riff grip, and signature silver mane that features REAL DOLL HAIR -- a first for Aggronautix! Pick up this highly influential (and potentially face melting) figure today!"

How about that! Made with real doll hair!

It’s the perfect Valentine’s Day give for the one you love.

‘Cause when I need a friend it’s still you.

The Steam Is Always Fire

2012-01-22T01:06:00.001-05:00

Back home, we'd call them "coneys."

Cinderella just calls 'em a paycheck.

True story: My Mom managed a womens clothing store for many years, which required her to work let a few nights a week. One of those nights was Tuesday, which meant my old man had to cook dinner for me and him. Both of my parents are now officially "foodies" and their cooking ability has improved dramatically over the years.

But back in the 70's and 80's, not so much.

My Father would ocassionally turn to the local A&W Restaurant for help on Tuesday with their "Coney Tuesday" promotion. Since A&W is a dying breed, let me explain to our younger readers and international customers that it was a drive-in restaurant where you literally drove up to a screen, pressed a button, and someone started talking through a little speaker, asking you what you wanted to eat.

This is before the days of the "drive thru," which is the same idea (get food without leaving your car) but in a much more efficient manner.

A&W served fast foot, but they're best known for their root beer, which is admittedly pretty awesome. They'd brew the shit right there at the restaurant.

Anywho, "Coney Tuesday" offered coney dogs-known as a chili dog if you're Cinderella-for the unbelievable price of 39 cents. Over the years, that price increased somewhat, but you get the idea: it was like "Taco Tuesday" at Taco John's, but with hot dogs.

How was it? About as good as a 39 cent coney dog could be. You're not eating it for how good it is, you're eating it because it's fucking cheap and you don't feel hungry afterwards.

You just feel like you have to take a massive shit.

Kinda like you did after hearing Night Songs.

Thanks to Brad Company for the heads up and the website Metal Insider for finding it.

James Gang - Thirds

2012-01-21T12:10:00.002-05:00

My old man had this on 8-track.

It was me that played the piss out of it until the tape broke.

No more James Gang Thirds until my mother in law bought it for me as a Christmas gift last year.

What can I say? I’m blessed.

The third and final studio album featuring Joe Walsh on vocals finds Cleveland, Ohio’s favorite sons bashing out the same groove-laden rock music as the previous two. And even if the band only managed the greatness of the opener “Walk Away,” then they still would be remembered fondly in the annals of rock’s greatest tunes.

It takes a left turn with the next track-“Yadig?”-an instrumental that still keeps a slow, jazzy groove complete with vibes and a Hammond B-3 organ before Walsh steps in with a tasty lead from his Les Paul.

You get the sense that the band is starting to peter out a bit with the inclusion of songs written by the other band members that weren’t named “Joe.” Bassist Dale Peters and drummer Jim Fox ain’t slouches with Peters whipping out some amazing bass work for Fox’s “Things I Could Be” and Jimmy returning the favor with a tack piano on Dale’s country-flavored “Dreamin’ In The Country.”

Side two starts with some swell Walsh guitar tones on “Midnight Man,” but it, like the rest of the side, begins showings some chinks in the James Gang armor-the result of constant touring as the band’s liner notes suggest.

James Gang would end their Walsh years with a more appropriate live record, one that more effectively captures the band’s epic grove and huge crunch than Thirds ends up providing.

The only other complaint is that they misspelled Evel Knievel’s name in the thank you section, which is-in reality-a laugh riot as it heaps nods to such people as Joe Garagiola, Monte Hall, and someone named “Emil Nitrate.”

This and “Walk Away” may be worth the price of admission alone.

Ozzy Admits: Tastes Like Chicken!

2012-01-20T13:34:00.001-05:00

One of the most metal moments in rock history occurred thirty years ago in my home state of Iowa.

Tonight is the night that Ozzy Osbourne tasted a bat, which means that early in the morning of January 21st, he also enjoyed a series of rabies shots that I hear are very painful.

You don’t know how proud I am that someone in Iowa metal community felt the need to find a dead bat and think, “You know who’d like this? Ozzy Osbourne!” The reaction was so strong that this person placed a rotting rodent in their pocket and brought it to Osbourne’s concert in Des Moines, throwing the dead animal on stage at some point during the performance.

From there, Ozzy noticed it and thought-in either a moment of comedic intent or in some kind of drunken prank-that he needed to place it in his mouth to try to rip the head off it.

He claims he thought it was a rubber, toy bat. But having fielded a few bats that have entered into houses that I’ve lived in, I can say with familiarity that a toy rubber bat looks and feels nothing like a real one, dead or alive and squeaking.

I’m going to chalk a big part of Ozzy’s choice to the booze.

Whatever the case, it pleases me to no end that all of this transpired in the Hawkeye state 30 years ago tonight!

A Moment For Miss Peaches

2012-01-20T11:26:00.001-05:00

The first mistake Barack Obama made during his first term as President of the United States is not invite Etta James to sing her signature song “At Last” during the Inaugural Ball.

Beyonce?

Seriously!

Miss Peaches was right to get her panties in a bunch and lash out at the President’s ears for the slight. She attacked him on a personal level because “At Last” was performed on a personal level; each swell of her voice and every note that it carried sounded like it came more from her heart than her diaphragm. It was an incredible instrument, and no sister come lately could effectively mirror Etta’s version.

Even when it was four decades removed.

I used to work at Iowa’s biggest public radio station, K.U.N.I., during my final two years of college and I can’t ignore how important that job was to my musical upbringing. It required me to go back to the masters, particularly during my weeknight music block where my old instructions were to play the blues between the hours of 8pm-9pm.

The station’s library had just received a large assortment of Chess records as their (then) parent company just undertook a large remastering effort of a bunch of their classic catalog titles.

Two of the titles caught my eye, particularly the eye-popping platinum blonde look of her At Last! long player.

But it was Tell Mama that caught my ears. I must have played that title track like a top forty smash for a while on my show. I was discovering what some people had already known for decades, that this Etta James lady was a badass, a probably deserving of such reverence that radio stations across the country should play at least one tune per night just to honor her greatness.

Soon after, James released a comeback album, Seven Year Itch, which was a fine representation of why Peaches was such a national treasure.

I didn’t even know she was sick. In fact, some of those from the hip comments towards Obama were later to be revealed as nothing more than side-effects of the medications that her illness required her to take.

It blows my mind that her passing coincides with the passing of Johnny Otis, the man that discovered her in the mid-50’s. Two giants from the early days of rock and soul walking in tandem to what’s becoming-unfortunately for those of us still here-a pretty awesome array of performers who changed the face of music.

And none of them came sweeter than this peach from Southern California.

Map Of The World - An Inch Equals A Thousand Miles

2012-01-19T23:53:00.006-05:00

A long forgotten quintet from Ann Arbor, Michigan, Map Of The World swindled one six-song e.p. from Atlantic records at the tail end of 1989 before being unceremoniously dropped by the label the following year.

Which is kind of a bummer since that aforementioned e.p., An Inch Equals A Thousand Miles sounds like a stone cold winner, hinting at a band with that certain amount of potential that major labels used to hold on to until their credit ran out and all of their recorded output became the property of W.E.A.

To be honest, I can only assume that M.O.T.W. ran into the same cliched bullshit with Atlantic, but I'm assuming the worse because barely a peep was heard from these nifty pop rockers after this release.

There is a bit of resemblance to 10,000 Maniacs had Natalie Merchant stayed in the garage instead of basking in Don Dixon’s sheen. Vocalist Sophia Hanifi can belt out a mean tune, even if that tune was penned with the obtuse outlook of her big brother Khalid.

He also brings a rougher edge to the mix, particular with the stompy opener “The Wall Of Least Resistance.” Sister steps right up with track two, an amazingly epic “Impenetrable You,” the highlight of the short-stack that alternates from brooding mystery before it sucker punches you with its loud/soft dynamics.

And the hidden element in all of this is Donn Deniston’s wonderfully out of place drums. The tape operators have his thunder arms way up in the mix, beating the living shit out of anyone who dares to compare them to 10,000 Maniacs in their review of An Inch.

By skipping the “where are they now” category and moving straight to the conspiracy theorists who might claim brother and sister Hanifi have been abducted by tastemaking aliens, it’s good to know that at least Khalid continues making music as a solo artist in the Michigan thicket.

But what a ride he could have had if Map Of The World found success in their first major label effort. It would have been great if this e.p. was properly promoted by their big pocket bosses and if their wonderfully varied sound left to flourish in the possibilities presented in these fine half-dozen gems.

Since no videos of Map Of The World exist on You Tube, you'll have to take my word on this one. But feel free to check out a sample of what Khalid's been up to with this clip of a recent track from last year.

I Heart Bad Brains

2012-01-14T19:33:00.001-05:00

No wonder Jack Rabid named a magazine after this song.

I have no doubts after watching this video that seeing Bad Brains during this time period was the equivalent of a religious experience. My eyes immediately look for H.R. He’s on stage. Somewhere. And then he pounces. The anticipation was priceless. You get the sense that something could happen. And regardless of what happens, it is surely going to be a night to remember.

David, The Gorillas Are Knocking Your Door Down!

2012-01-13T19:27:00.001-05:00

It used to be that concerts were dangerous.

Believe it or not, we read those articles where the cops were called to Black Flag shows. It wasn’t punk on punk fights, either. It was those hired to “serve and protect” the audience of a Black Flag show doing most of the violence.

With clubs.

With full impunity from the law.

And then there was side four of Everything Went Black, where we heard the completely amateurish radio spots including ones that poked sticks at the cops, teasing them with ads that noted their thuggish “protection” while giving the coordinates for the next Flag show.

“Let’s go down and beat up some of them damn punk rockers!”

There are a number of reasons why I didn’t go see Black Flag when they played Cedar Falls, Iowa in what would end up being their final tour. One of the reasons is that all of this notoriety got me scared of the possibilities.

Of course, when I moved to Cedar Falls, all of that sounded completely ridiculous. What I missed wasn’t a show filled with violence and cops. Firsthand accounts note that it was 1.) Very hot and sweaty and 2.) Very good.

I love hearing the antidotes of that show and I totally wished that I had made more of an effort in seeing it.

The video below is a perfect image to what I thought that show would be like.

Of course, Black Flag circa ’86 was nothing like that band.

They were road dogs, always on the road playing shows with complete disregard for how their audience perceived them. By then, they had moved beyond the punk straightjackets and found themselves in some weird jazz/metal world. It worked wonderfully live and not so much in the studio.

But I’ve got to confess that I totally dig Black Flag circa ’86 a whole lot better. The reason is because that band, this line-up, that album changed. My. Life.

Documentary Of Black Flag's Final Tour

2012-01-12T00:55:00.001-05:00

I'm posting this so that I can come back to it and watch it in its entirety.

Or before Greg Ginn goes and orders it be taken down.

It's a documentary called Reality 86'd, a first account of what would be Black Flag's final tour of the U.S.

Markley, who did Lovedolls Superstar and the awesome 1991: The Year Punk Broke, never was able to get this film to the light of day-some suggest Greg Ginn had something to do with that too-but the wonderful world of the intertubes has located a copy.

It appears to be pretty low-fi, but that's not going to stop me

Fucked Up - David Comes To Life

2012-01-08T00:11:00.000-05:00

“Who can I trust?!” Damian Abraham screams repeatedly towards the end of “Life In Paper”, one of several great tracks found on Fucked Up’s latest record, David Comes To Life.

And you think to yourself “Who can I trust?”

Should I give trust to the bank who loaned me six figures to live in this house?

Will I trust this president for another four years after watching him ignore the issues that I thought he would address during his first term?

Can I trust this Facebook friend who I’ve never met in real life with information on my family as we try to keep the world appraised of our activities?

Would you trust me if I told you that Fucked Up have delivered the best (if only) punk rock opera since Husker Du mixed those very words together with Zen Arcade?

Do I even care if you listen? There’s so much static in this world anyway, so many people beating their opinion on top of you that I completely understand if you just ignored everything about this review and went along, content with whatever it is you’re comfortable with in your current catalog.

But I’m here to tell you that you’d be missing out on a really good punk rock band pushing themselves beyond whatever expectation they set for themselves, as well as going beyond whatever limitations their band name provides them.

Fucked Up takes a huge leap in nearly every aspect of their genre, becoming the first punk rock band in quite some time that understands how the formula in punk rock should be that there are no formulas. To do this, they’ve created a story arc about a fictional dude named David. They’ve done this primarily with the hopes that the listener doesn’t figure out that the story arc itself is just some lame smokescreen created with the hopes that we all don’t end up figuring out that the songs are really about them.

If you must: David works in a light bulb factory, falls in love with leftie chick who dies while building a bomb, disaster strikes and then things get murky. At the end of the day, it’s a record about relationships and if the brevity between us all suggests that we might be better off with our individual toils without all of the human drama. The music and continuous yell of Abraham give the record’s bluntness some added weight, suggesting that emphasis on how we treat each other during this time together.

While the vocals may sound like limited reflections, Abraham manages the unique feat of shoving a bunch of emotional content into those guttural projections. It depends on the topic, and by the time he’s set his sights on heavier matters like death itself, he scales back the angst and turns up the advice. He tells us to stand tall and reminds us that life doesn’t always mean you don’t have to dwell on what dreams you lost, but what you did before laying down your head.

Be proud that you lived “Not the life that you wanted” but focused on “the life that you led.” He adds that life really does mean experiencing it-ups and downs-and to not think that a quick shot from a cell phone doesn’t really mean you lived that moment because “the pictures we take don’t resolve, just reflect.”

How telling that the band is now considering an extended hiatus so that members can begin using some of these lessons in real life! It only proves that David Comes To Life could actually serve as inspiration to your own epiphany if you’re able to hear the message beneath the record’s wonderful cacophony.

Fucked Up - Couple Tracks

2012-01-07T23:46:00.003-05:00

There’s nothing wrong with Fucked Up, but I’ll be damned if I can find anything great. The issue for me is-and has always been-that I immediately feel like a crotchety old geezer whenever I hear them. I’m compelled to remind those who champion them that there’s more out there.

It’s straight out of my past and it’s better.

This troubles me because hardcore punk is a young man’s game and-at its most basic-it should leave the listener feeling young, shouldn’t it? Perhaps age has skewed my perspective and maybe I would be better served by allowing the youth their moment.
The thing is, when I hear something like Husker Du’s “Real World,” I want to immediately tell people about how great it is. When I listen to any one of the songs on Couple Tracks-a compilation that spans the band’s singles and rare output for the past seven years-I immediately want to tell people that I’ve heard better.

Split between “the hard stuff” and “the fun stuff,” Couple Tracks follows no real chronological pattern. While the material presented couldn’t be considered as a good entry point for the novice, it’s the haphazard sequencing that will frustrate the completists that this compilation is geared for. I don’t know the reason why the band decided to spit single sides between the two discs, but I do know the chop-shop placement of the songs makes Couple Tracks title irrelevant and misleading.

All of this means nothing who will find this compilation as a great way to obtain a bit of this band’s prolific output. For anyone else who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about Fucked Up’s recent pass through Rock Island for a Daytrotter session, or their holiday fist-pumper “David Christmas,” or any of their other two dozen rarities presented here, then The Chemistry of Common Life is a much more enjoyable place to begin.

What Couple Tracks does manage to affirm that Fucked Up must be one helluva ride live and they’re currently making strides to become as good as their historical counterparts. Again, a chronological track set would show just how much progress Fucked Up has made in their whirlwind career and compliment all of the positive press the band has received, seemingly just for following the blueprint that others have laid out for them.

Couple Tracks gives listeners a great glimpse of how Fucked Up are carrying the torch of hardcore to a younger audience, but to anyone who witnessed when the torch was lit, you’ll wonder why they can’t make the flame burn a bit brighter.

This review originally appeared in Glorious Noise.

(No) Epiphany

2012-01-06T02:12:00.001-05:00

Some words on the song that's been going through my head today, because it is the Epiphany.

We went to our annual Epiphany celebration of church, which means we would chalk over each doorway leading into church and eat bland casserole.

But for our kids, the draw is always the King cake, where pieces of cake are sliced up after the meal, pieces in which a small plastic baby have been strategically placed inside three of them.

If you find the baby, then you are one of the three people who have to make the cake for next year's Epiphany.

Our son found the baby last year, which meant we were in charge of one cake this year.

My wife actually made two cakes, which was good as nobody else that was supposed to make the cake did. I think that everyone thought we would bring all of the three cakes, but I won't bore you with the details of that drama.

The message to our children was very clear. Wait until the baby is found before you go up to get your piece of cake. In other words, let someone else make the fucking King cake next year.

But of course, you can't keep children from cake. Even when there is clear instructions given, the only thing they know is how many steps it takes to get to a piece of cake.

And within moments, our little 4 year old girl was licking pink frosting off the plastic baby Jesus she found in her cake.

The song "No Epiphany" immediately follows "Generations" on this crowd-shot video. It's poor quality, but there's a couple of ass shots for you to see.

NSFW, I guess, but then again, the band's name is Fucked Up, so no duh.

The Iowa Caucus 2012

2012-01-03T00:47:00.000-05:00

We’ve reached the end of this Iowa caucus season, and it’s weird sitting on the sidelines as a registered Democrat, watching the GOP make a circus out of their weak candidate pool.

As the caucus results pile in tonight, I’m a little relieved that they’ve chosen from their moderate candidates, Rick Santorum and Mitt Romney. Ron Paul’s candidacy proves once again that he has solid support from his loyal constituents but little in the way of mainstream acceptance.

I get the libertarian slant.

The “weed should be legal” rallying cry gets you all interested in college, and then you get caught up in the entire heavy fuckin’ fee of freedom and the existential thoughts of what America would look like with a Libertarian president.

Personally, I’m still close with the idea that government has a vital role in its relationship with its citizens. I believe that we do occasionally need to monitor our distribution of wealth and support some people who are at risk or in need of temporarily assistance.

If I believed our behaviors all aligned in that way, then the idea of outside regulation wouldn’t be necessary. But the simple fact that we are human and that history has proven that we often don’t possess the empathy to help each other makes it hard for me to dismantle our government’s vital role as a support network.

Without it, the landscape looks a whole lot meaner and stacked against the common face of its citizens.

Don’t believe me? Then explain why the gap between the poorest in our country and our wealthiest is a Grand Canyon of divide with deregulation.

Throughout this campaign, I struggled with understanding how the GOP candidates could ignore this fact and contend that the gap between our wealthy and poor needs to expand further. I question how any who has no reasonable chance to benefit from this hyper-extended trickle-down theory can support such a candidate.

To see the candidates the GOP presented was disheartening.

To see that Iowa Republicans put the wackjobs towards the back of the bus was reassuring.

You really had to live in the state to get a full sample of how ridiculous the campaigns air attack was. From Rick Perry’s nutty baiting of our state’s fair share of Christian conservatives to Romney’s carpet-bombing attack ads (a decision that probably contributed to his poor showing in ’08 and will probably push Santorum to the top in ’12) against his own Republican counterparts.

Will our results here in Iowa tonight be a mirror of the national convention?

We’ll see.

But at least our last-minute swing to sanity and the return of the archetypical GOP candidate will hopefully put another nail in the mean-spirited views of that party’s fringe members trying to take it to the national level.

"NEWT GINGRICH" â a Bad Lip Reading Soundbite - watch more funny videos

The Baker's Dozen of 2011

2011-12-31T17:03:00.004-05:00

This year kind of snuck on by me.

While certainly not the best year in recent memory, a quick check of my jpeg file indicates a healthy amount of good memories arose and a quick check of this year’s music finds a healthy amount of great records too.

Many of them will work well in matching up with some of those memories.

I noticed there was a big sense of bummers and dread in some of my choices this year.

Feel free to ridicule or add your own choices to the comment screen provided.

1.) Josh Pearson – Last Of The Country Gentlemen

Admittedly, this isn’t an album that I will be playing frequently, but it’s still the best, bravest album of the year by far. The songs are uncomfortably personal sometimes, and to rub against that kind of heartache and despair is unsettling. But it gets props as the album of the year because it takes a special person to not only use their muse as a therapeutic outlet, it takes an even more special one to release it.

2.) Fleet Foxes – Helplessness Blues

A landmark record of beautiful harmonies trying to overcome was sounds to be the weight of the world. Touchingly personal and eloquently executed, Helplessness Blues will become a touchtone record in the years to come, when artists and music lovers alike need to remind themselves that no amount of technological wonder will ever replace the power of a human voice and the emotional weight it carries.

3.) Fucked Up – David Comes To Life

The best punk rock opera record since Zen Arcade, Not that there have been many attempts, but at least this attempt comes from a band that actually has the minerals to challenge it. Don’t bother with the translation, like most concept albums, the plot gets a bit muddled. But I do admire how this band of polar opposites work in conjunction to deliver something that’s beyond their expectations and, perhaps, their individual abilities. An immediate favorite for anyone versed in old-school punk rock angst.

4.) The Psychic Paramount – II

I’ve got this way too high for most of you, but for me the return of an awesome and unpredictable post-rock instrumental band is proving to be too much for my ears to take. I listen to it frequently and it makes me want to pull out my guitar again, until I realize that I’ll never be as good as these guys. Sure, it conjures up the best of math rock, which I automatically feel apologetic for uttering that godawful genre title. Bottom line, if you like it when an instrumental power trio whips up enough noise to signal a Mayan disaster, here’s your album.

5). Wilco – The Real Love

Alternate title: Tweedy Gets Weird again. Just when I was about to turn off the light with Wilco, relinquishing them to Dad Rock status and settling for mediocrity (yes, I’m re-evaluating everything post Yankee Hotel Foxtrot), they return with a worthy follow-up to that classic and make me think twice in believing that all of their sense of adventure was lost with Jay Bennett. It wasn’t, and shame on me for thinking that Tweedy couldn’t pull it off again.

6.) Girls – Father, Son, Holy Ghost

I panned Girls’ last effort, so I may have to eat some crow with their remarkable turnaround on Father, Son, Holy Ghost. It’s leaps and bounds better than that one, demonstrating a maturation that is about as impressive as you can get. Christopher Owens ditches the DIY ethos that actually plagued Album (new band too), instead choosing to open up his heart to a wider pallet of sounds, wonderfully secured in a real studio document. Best of all, he matches this with top-notch lyrics. They sit comfortably next to Owens’ influences and suggest that this young artist may actually have a seat at the table.

7.) Tuneyards – Whokill

I’m tired of the upper/lower case drama of her name, but I’m in love with Merrill Garbus voice and words. While Whokill doesn’t posses the debut Birdbrains low-fi impressiveness, Garbus expands her own confidence along with the professionalism that her big studio provides. And when she starts talking about her ladyparts with complete disregard for manners, it’s only because the music is stirring a fucking confessional out of her. To lose yourself in the music, isn’t that what it’s all about?

8.) J. Mascis – Several Shades Of Why

You’ll find Kurt Vile elsewhere on this list, but I have to put the Uncle J. record ahead because Mascis has done that role before and he’s done it better. Several Shades Of Why is no exception when you’re swimming in the warmth of his stoner delivery and equally euphoric acoustic backlot. His wit is in fine form, and his guitar prowess is on fine display as this hollowbody edition proves.

9.) Atlas Sound – Parallax

I’m a bigger fan of Deerhunter’s guitar attack, but I can’t ignore how I fell into love with this Brandan Cox project release after a few listens. Far from a second-rate stop-gap, Cox puts his full effort into Parallax, creating a unique color scheme for the record, one that exists start to finish. This strategy has worked well with Deerhunter, and now Cox brings this sense of consistency over to his solo material, and the results are equally impressive.

10.) Adele – 21

A Mary J Blige record for white women too suburban to relate to My Life. This record has covered 2011 like a Snuggie, warming up the ladies during their lowest love moments-and it all has to do with the rich power of her voice. And while her youth is most noticeable in her lyrics and in her choice of covers, there’s little to indicate we won’t be looking at 21 in the next few decades like we do My Life or Back To Black.

11.) Chad Van Gaalen – Diaper Island

Should have been knocked out of contention due to the awful album title, but within Diaper Island’s homemade vibe is some nifty garage rock lifts inside a Brian Wilson imagination. It weaves in an out of your ears, leaving just enough resin to get you to come back to Van Gaalen’s questionable locale.

12.) Lady Gaga – Born This Way

What do you expect from a dude that lived through the bombast of pop metal blo-pops and Madonna’s PMRC-baiting simulations. While I may have grown tired with her continuous assault on my visuals, I can also find myself close to tears when she sits down at a piano and just plays. Same is true with the acapella version of this title track.

13.) Witch Mountain – South Of Salem

Imagine if Kyuss ditched their vocalist for an Ann Wilson worshiper. Witch Mountain features enough slow tempo guttural guitar sludge to keep you soiled for days (Help @diaperisland) with Uta Plotkin blowing your head off, Scanners style.

Honorable Mentions (aka the second Baker's Dozen):

14.) Kate Bush – 50 Words For Snow
15.) M83 – Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming
16.) P.J. Harvey – Let England Shake
17.) Apex Manor – The Year Of Magical Drinking
18.) The Roots - Undun
19.) Kurt Vile – Smoke Ring For My Halo
20.) Mastodon – The Hunter
21.) Okkervil River – I Am Very Far
22.) Faust – Something Dirty
23.) Richard Bucker – Our Blood
24.) Chris Isaak – Beyond The Sun
25.) Greg Allman – Low Country Blues
26.) Kate Bush – Director’s Cut

Van Halen - 5150

2011-12-27T07:07:00.000-05:00

When it was announced that Sammy Hagar would be taking over the lead vocalist position in Van Halen, David Lee Roth made an observant statement about his replacement.

I’m paraphrasing, but the line went something like “Sammy Hagar has made a lot of good albums, but Van Halen made great albums.”

And that’s exactly what Van Halen’s first offering with Sammy Hagar is, a good Van Halen record.

What Diamond Dave fails to acknowledge is that II and Diver Down aren’t exactly great albums either, but it’s obvious that he’s correct in declaring that Sammy Hagar has never been the kind of guy that can claim to have a classic record under his belt as a solo artist.

You’d get no argument from me that the first Montrose album could be a must have, but Hagar’s solo work is filled with big hook-laden chorus and a bunch of shit thrown together for verses in between.

The same is true when he has Eddie Van Halen working with his for 5150-the pair make some great music together when everything aligns for the chorus, but just getting there proves to be a challenge. Hagar’s lyrics are so dimwitted that he makes Roth seem like fucking Shakespeare and to think that Eddie Van Halen is actively encouraging this behavior is almost unsettling.

The best example is “Summer Nights,” a song that fits perfectly into any summertime bonfire or make-shift party, that is until you realize that Hagar is actually pining for a hook up by referring to the opposite sex as “human toys.”

At one point, Hagar is such a lazy bastard that he doesn’t even bother to follow up the line “Them girls are biting good tonight” with another verse. Instead, he just gives a pointless “Awww” instead of finishing the lyric.

5150 is filled with lots of good songs that are sure to complement any party, but there’s hardly a tune on it that would stick to your conscious the way a comparable Diamond Dave tune.

This album played incessantly the summer it was released and I remember being quite shocked at how good it actually turned out after fearing for the worst. It remains as Hagar’s best work with the band, but it hardly was good enough to not have me wishing that they’d hire Roth back and send Sammy packing for his own blend of arena medicraty.

With Roth they transcended the juvenile script while with Hagar it seemed that the opening act pomp was dragging Van Halen down to the circuit that they seemed to leave behind in ’78.

Michael Schenker Announces 2012 Tour

2011-12-26T21:10:00.003-05:00

Lots of open dates, and that troubles me. Michael isn't known much for his ability to follow through on lengthy travels through the U.S. and this tour looks to be filled with consequtive nights in small bars and clubs. It could be a recepie for disaster and this is clearly not the larger venue tour they had in mind before when Uli Jon Roth and Leslie West tour.

He's now paired up with Robin Mc Auley again, which means that I won't be seeking out this show like I was with the original tour package.

Mc Auley isn't even featured prominently with this latest album, so maybe someone figured out that latest vocalist Michael Voss is a bust.

Here's the press release:

"Michael Schenker, a true purveyor first-class hard guitar rock, released the aptly titled "Temple of Rock" on October 11 on CD, digital formats, and vinyl. He will now be touring with Robin McAuley in support of the album."

02.15.12 - SAN FRANCISCO, CA - MEZZANINE
02.16.12 - SANTA ROSA, CA- THE LAST DAY SALOON
02.17.12 - PORTLAND, OR - DANTES
02.18.12 - TACOMA, WA - BACKSTAGE BAR & GRILL
02.19.12 - SEATTLE, WA - STUDIO SEVEN
02.20.12 - VICTORIA, BC - 9 ONE 9 NIGHTCLUB
02.21.12 - VANCOUVER, BC - VENUE NIGHTCLUB
02.23.12 - ORANGEVALE, CA - THE BOARDWALK
02.24.12 - CORONA, CA - MARQUEE 15
02.25.12 - WEST HOLLYWOOD, CA- HOUSE OF BLUES
02.26.12 - SAN DIEGO, CA - 4 TH AND B CONCERT THEATRE
02.28.12 - TBA
03.01.11 - LIBERTYVILLE, IL - AUSTINS
03.03.12 - DETROIT, MI - HARPOS
03.04.12 - ETOBICOKE, ON - THE ROCK PILE
03.05.12 - CLEVELAND, OH - PEABODY'S
03.07.12 - SPRINGFIELD, VA - JAXX
03.08.12 - FOXBOROUGH, MA - SHOWCASE LIVE
03.09.12 - ASBURY PARK, NJ - THE STONE PONY
03.10.12 - NEW YORK, NY- THE GRAMERCY THEATRE
03.11.12 - ALLENTOWN, PA - CROCODILE ROCK
03.15.12 - TBA
03.16.12 - SAN ANTONIO, TX - BACKSTAGE LIVE SA
03.17.12 - DALLAS, TX - TREES
03.18.12 - TBA
03.20.12 - TBA
03.21.12 - TEMPE, AZ - CLUB RED
03.22.12 - LAS VEGAS, NV - VAMP'D
03.23.12 - AGOURA HILLS, CA - THE CANYON CLUB
03.24.12 - SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO, CA - THE COACH HOUSE

Merry Christmas From Glam-Racket!

2011-12-25T06:00:00.000-05:00

Fishbone - It's A Wonderful Life (EP)

2011-12-24T21:03:00.003-05:00

Released in a limited edition e.p. before the holidays in 1987, Fishbone’s It’s A Wonderful Life remains as one of the season’s best cynical offerings. It continues the band’s hyperkinetic funk rock of the previous year’s Truth and Soul and features the band’s naughty boy humor.

The title track is a fast-paced run through of the movie of the same name. And rather that wallow through 80 minutes of sentimental celluloid, Fishbone tackles the plight of George Bailey in 3 minutes, and rather than the promise of life being wonderful, the band sets their expectations at merely having a good time.

“Slick Nick, You Devil You” paints everyone’s favorite fat man as a dirty drunk. The items this lush leaves behind has vocalist Angelo Moore screaming “I wanted candy! I wanted candy! I wanted candy!” by the final verse.

With one Truth and Soul leftover beginning side two and another humbug jam ending out this 15 minute holiday blast, It’s A Wonderful Life still plays well a quarter century later. With the e.p. long out of print, the songs are now found on the retrospective Fishbone 101 for anyone looking for some relief from the traditional holiday music.

Fishbone Stick Together With Crazy Glue

2011-12-23T20:51:00.004-05:00

I can't vouch for this as I haven't heard it yet, but I can tell you that it's great that Fishbone are still around.

Back during the Truth and Soul days, they were one hell of a band, and I can vouch for that album and can easily say that their live shows were something to behold.

I drank with Norwood Fisher the night that I saw them, and he was a gracious and fun-loving man as I tried to weave a coherant interview with him while Supertramp's shitty Brother Where You Bound played in the background. Thankfully, Norwood made it all a blast and I will always hold a deep affection towards this band, regardless of the line-up.

Here's information on the new e.p.:

"Frantic, unhinged, and edgy, Fishbone's highly anticipated new 7 song EP Crazy Glue captures the beautiful madness that is Fishbone, with a blistering combination of punk & funk. Currently, the band has a campaign with Punk Rock Deals (PRD) to offer fans a CD package that also includes a Classic Logo T-Shirt with 25th Anniversary Graphics for only $15.

Combining equal parts of deep funk, high-energy punk, and frantic ska, the Los Angeles-based Fishbone was one of the most distinctive and eclectic alternative rock bands of the late '80s. With their hyperactive, self-conscious diversity, goofy sense of humor, and sharp social commentary, the group gained a sizable cult following during the late '80s, yet they were never able to earn a mainstream audience.

Led by vocalist/saxophonist Angelo Moore, the band formed in 1979 while the members were still in junior high; the original lineup comprised Moore, Chris Dowd, Kendall Jones, Walter Kibby II, and John Norwood Fisher. After performing in local clubs during the early '80s, the group signed with Columbia Records in the mid-'80s, releasing a self-titled EP in 1985. The following year, Fishbone released their first full-length album, In Your Face. While it was marred by a somewhat slick production, the sheer energy of their performances burned through the slightly polished surface.

Fast forward to 2011 and Fishbone's Crazy Glue"

Singles 45's and Under: Atari Teenage Riot-"Deutschland Has Gotta Die!"

2011-12-19T22:34:00.005-05:00

You’ve probably gathered that my politics run a little left of center, but even I have my limits to when progressive thought is burdened by reality and by academic nonsense.

I’m not sure where I fall on the whole Occupy movement as a whole-but I do know that jack shit was being done about the white collar criminals that got away with foreclosing our future just to make a few extra bucks unethically.

And all of this makes me think that this winter could be a lot worse for the Occupy protestors, with colder temperatures giving a slight reprieve while our local law enforcement get to model their riot gear and move out a bunch of hippies who hang out at the local park.

Sometimes I wonder, “Are these the same people who felt the animosity of the older generation when Spiro Agnew and Richard Nixon belittled the war protesters 40 years ago?” Do these same people on the receiving end of ridicule now beat a similar drum towards today’s youth?

I wonder where our protest singers are? I wonder who will rise up to the challenge of lending an eternal voice to today’s struggle. I think of who is ready to lead the youth, and then I get dismayed.

There’s nobody there.

My mind thinks of Atari Teenage Riot, who seemed poised to be that band over a decade and a half ago, even when there was no real struggle for them to align with.

Would it surprise you that they’re back, and that there now seems to be a struggle perfectly formulated for their progressive ideals?

I spent $3 on the Grand Royale single for Atari Teenage Riot’s “Deutschland Has Gotta Die!” back in 1997, and judging from the amount of record wear I noticed on a recent spin, it became an immediate favorite.

Everything on it seems to be on the wrong; hyper drum beats and distorted guitar samples layer beneath Hanin Elias’ title screams, while head ATR, Alec Empire, barks orders like a good instigator.

The flip, “Riot 1996,” is just “Riot” repeated over an over, while a sample of Dinosaur Jr.’s “Sludgefeast” just hammers that word into the ground.

I love this single. It makes me wish the kids could have their generation’s version, because music this good could just about occupy anything.

KISS - Ace Frehley

2011-12-16T10:43:00.003-05:00

I’ve taken a bunch of shots at Kiss and most of them are deserved.
But the one thing that I haven’t managed to accomplish is to find a Kiss record that is so awesome that it warrants the amount of worship that sustains a band for nearly forty years.

I’m not done with the catalog, but what I can claim is that the best of the lot is nearly 30 years old and is not good enough (in my opinion) to give them a pass at the band’s creative declined that began as quickly as we began to see any evidence of their greatness.

One of the album’s in their catalog that people kept encouraging me to listen to isn’t even a Kiss album. It’s Ace Frehley’s solo album, cited by the Kiss Army as the best solo album of the lot and performed by the band’s true hard rock patriarch.

I’ve got to confess that those folks were on to something, but their praise may be a little lacking in some circles. Ace Frehley is not only the best of the solo albums, it may even be the last great glam rock album of the 70’s, serving as a vital blueprint for the glam metal bands that began popping up in the early 80’s.

Ace Frehley got a bunch of traction from the hit single “New York Groove,” a song that eventually loses its luster the moment you hear the original version by the band Hello. It’s note for note, and if it ain’t broke don’t fix it.

That being said, the track works well within the sequence of the record and with the fact that Ace must have been saving up his best material for this outing. Either that or Gene and Paul could have been cockblocking his contributions entirely.

I don’t know if that’s the case, but it’s very clear that Frehley has a different approach to his material than anything else in the Kiss cannon, and that is probably what makes it so enjoyable. His music is heavier; his lyrics straddle between an afterthought and precocious druggy couplets. In other words, it mirrors Ace’s awesome cover portrait, while the other solo records merely rehash the image for end cap marketing, snagging the attention of the pre-teens loitering in suburban shopping malls. Ace Frehley was the only record that hinted at any danger while underhandedly demonstrating that awesome riffs could still come out from under the influence.

With nearly every track sounding like a winner, it’s “I’m In Need Of Love” that stands as the perfect example of Ace’s unique approach of sloppy Stonesy blooze performed live on fucking Skylab. “Snowblind” and the opener “Rip It Out” bring things closer to planet Earth but they’re equally rewarding, rocking terra firma with some memorable riffs.

Much of this is due to Frehley’s choice of producer, Eddie Kramer. The man who brought Hendrix’s otherworldly guitar antics to tape does a great job of getting Ace’s more restrained guitarwork off the ground. Kramer gives Frehley’s tone a nice bite and his work is just as vital to the success of Ace Frehley as the musicians.

Based on all of this, it’s no wonder that Ace Frehley is revered among Kiss fans and why it continues to be referenced as a vital piece of Kisstory. Gene and Paul were foolish not to give Ace more of an input in the albums, particularly after the band began to become more of a parody of their costumes rather than trying to break down the walls of legitimacy with Les Pauls and a nice buzz.

The Lost Chord Of Hard Day's Night

2011-12-15T23:39:00.003-05:00

This is awesome.

Randy Bachman-yes the "Takin' Care Of Business" guy-gets a personal glimpse into the opening chord of "Hard Day's Night" directly from George Martin's son.

What's great is how you can hear how excited Randy is in telling this story, and the moment he puts together those chords, you end up feeling a little tingly inside

And even though you've heard that intro a thousand times, this clip will make it feel like the first time all over.

The Girl With Far Away Eyes

2011-12-13T22:57:00.006-05:00

“Hey! One of your classmates died over the weekend.” remembered my dad. Our original conversation was about something else, a topic that evidently wasn’t as exciting as his sudden memory flash of my classmate’s death. We were speaking on the phone, part of the obligatory monthly calls that twenty-somethings make to their parents just to let them know they’re behaving responsibly.

Of course, news like this does bring one’s attention to a peak. Mine was evidenced by a quick response of “Oh yeah? Who was it?”

He told me that they found Christine Davidson’s body next to the railroad tracks. The tracks were used by a few industries spotted along the Mississippi river on the south side of town. They used the rails occasionally to send out products and to receive the raw materials they needed to make them.

In other words, it was not the type of area that you’d find many women walking around after midnight, so my mind processed her final resting place.

“What the hell was she doing around there?” I immediately asked. Apparently, there was much about my deceased classmate that I didn’t know about.

“I don’t know.” he offered. Then he provided some additional background detail about her that I would have never guessed.

“She died of hypothermia I think. Maybe alcohol poisoning.”

My mind, for whatever reason, immediately considered foul play.

“She drank herself to death?” I clarified, amazed at how differently that lifestyle was to the image of her that I had in my head. I didn’t really know her, but what little I remembered of her wasn’t one of a drinker.

“Oh yeah.” My father continued. “I remember she came up and talked to me one night at the Labor Hall and she was just hammered.” I should note here that the only time my Dad was down at the Labor Hall was when it was an election year. He’d go down to glad-hand the party faithful, discuss election strategies for their candidates and then watch the election results on the television above the bar. The fact that Christine was down there seemed to imply that she must have been employed at some local factory after high school.

It was then when I began to piece together the brief memories I had about her. I couldn’t think of any bad memories and I don’t remember her getting into trouble. I can’t speak to any ridicule she may have encountered, but then again, I’m sure I don’t know half of the tortuous things that girls are capable of in high school.

She wasn’t all that good looking. Blessed with intense blue eyes and cursed with a distractingly huge mop of curly black hair, Christine was one of those girls who just disappeared the farther you got into high school. By the time I was a senior, Christine stopped being a familiar face in the hallway. A quick review of the yearbook from that year finds that she didn’t exist in a mix of our senior portraits.

She was extremely shy and she seldom spoke. The very idea of walking up to my father and initiating a conversation amazed me. I could only recall one time where I heard her speak, and that was due to a class assignment.

Ms Posadas was my 10th grade English teacher, which was unique because Ms. Posadas was from the Philippines and English was her second language. This made her the target of incredible ridicule from some of the students, and at barely five feet tall, Ms. Posadas would occasionally find herself in tears as her classroom dissolved into disruptive chaos.

She once gave us an assignment once where we had to give a five-minute speech about a topic of our choice. I can’t remember what subject matter I ended up choosing, but I’ll never forget Christine’s.

When it was her turn to give her speech in front of the class, she Chris was noticeably nervous. Her voice was barely audible in the back of the classroom, but I listened intently. I knew nothing about this girl, and the possibility of a complete meltdown lingered in the air.

“Mick Jagger is the lead singer of the Rolling Stones.” she began.

Now my interest peaked. I loved the Rolling Stones too, and I wanted to see the extent of her fandom. The band had recently became relevant again thanks to Tattoo You and a widely successful U.S. tour.

What she spoke of wasn’t revelatory. Instead, it spiraled into an uncomfortable bit of hero worship. The speech soon wandered traveled away from the facts she wrote on 3 x 5 index cards. When she began to notice that she was rambling, she clinched her index cards tighter.

Five minutes can be an eternity, particularly if you’re scared shitless in front of an audience of your peers that could make even the teacher of the class bolt for the doors in tears. You could see how she removed herself from the embarrassment by making a mental picture of Jagger in her mind and her eyes drifted upwards as if trying to get a better view of him.

“I just think that he’s the best…he’s just really great…and so good looking…” she continued, oblivious that everyone was staring at her. “The way he moves…I dunno…they’re just the greatest…and I dunno…He’s just his so awesome…I love him so much!”

She caught a bit of suppressed laughter and it snapped her out of her daydream. She looked down and then noticed that she had at least another two minutes to kill on the clock. In her panic, she looked to Ms. Posadas who graciously let the extra minutes slide by calling up the next student.

And that’s the only time I heard her speak.

I’d see her in the halls occasionally. If eye contact was made, it was answered with a quick look away. She wasn’t shy enough to try out for cheerleading, where she ended up cheering for the wrestling squad, considered by some girls (pun intended) as the “b-squad” of the cheerleading hierarchy.

By our senior year, she had all but disappeared. She no longer walked the halls, shared a class, or cheered a takedown. My dad was again a great source of information, telling me that Christine was having problems. He knew the head librarian at our town’s only public library and she told him that Christine’s mother had brought in dozens of women’s magazines-Cosmo, Glamour, and other ladies’ fashion periodicals-that she had found in her daughter’s bedroom one day.

She had defaced the magazine by scratching out the faces of models with pen ink, emphasizing her hatred of their beauty with words like “Slut” and “Fucking whore!” scribbled over the images.

It was clear from these rumors that Christine had some major issues to contend with. It confirmed that high school must be a nightmare for girls with self-image issues and without the safety net of friends that could steer you away from the kind of people who make sure you stay away from the wrong side of the tracks.

There’s no morality tale here and no contrite Jagger/Richards quote that brings this story together. A quick spin of side one of Tattoo You and a quick mention of Christine to an old classmate of mine brought her memory up again. To be honest, that friend had no recollection of her and even my father vaguely remembered her when I urged for clarification about her over the holidays.

Maybe this memory of Christine is something more, particularly if you’re getting heavy during the holiday about families, friends, and those intersections of life that you went through to get to this point. Perhaps my recall serves and a reminder to you to give pause those fringe characters that you met, paused, and then moved on without much consideration.

Her name was Christine Davidson.

She liked Mick Jagger.

Letter To Dianne

2011-12-12T22:51:00.002-05:00

So I’m digging around in my file cabinet in the garage and I come across the following letter that I’d written over three years ago.

Again, for those readers that need to be brought up to speed, I spend a tremendous amount of time making sure people get their money. Sometimes, that conversation can be challenging and sometimes it’s hard not to take it personally-particularly if you’re really working hard at getting these people their money and you have to deal with company nonsense while the customer is screaming at you.

I deal primarily with members of my organization now, but it wasn’t too long ago that I was dealing directly with the customers. During that role, I initially dealt with affluent customers, and then I switched to the complete opposite: people that could barely formulate sentences and would ask me for loans of ridiculous amounts, like $50.

Below is a woman named Dianne that I spoke with in September of 2008. I can’t remember the exact nature of Dianne’s call, other than she was elderly, lived in Glendale, AZ, and that I needed to get her husband’s permission to allow me to speak to her about his account with us.

Dianne didn’t like that.

She relented and I got the authorization from her husband, an extremely polite man, given whom he was married.

After providing her with the information, Dianne neglected to hand up the phone properly, so I took the liberty of listening in on her and her husband’s existence. Dianne was apparently doing the household bookkeeping that day, paying bills and balancing the checkbook, and she was doing this while completely drunk.

I noticed it during my conversation with her. She was slurring her words a bit and getting irate at the most simple of logic. Like the fact that I needed to get her husband’s authorization because she was not the owner of the account.

With our business complete, she went back to her bookkeeping, and she was barely into the task, her husband returned to ask where something was.

That’s when the fireworks started.

Through the phone I could hear Dianne completely rip into her husband for breaking her concentration. She evidently was doing the old fashion check ledger vs. calculator thing, because his question caused her to lose her place in her calculations and she proceeded to belittle him for the next five minutes.

Occasionally, I would hear him respond, but it did him no good.

His pleading was only met with more drunken shenanigans, layered with enough angry vitriol that he never could make it to the end of his sentences.

And the best part? All of this was before noon in my Central Time Zone. This meant that they hadn’t even reached 10:00am in Glendale, Arizona.

For these customers that bring a bit of extreme negativity to my world, I will sometimes reward them with a letter. My letters come from a variety of sources, but all are created to confuse, anger, or cause some kind of emotional rebuttal that will hopefully impact their day with the same amount of negative energy that they have inflicted on me.

Thankfully, for the benefit of you readers, one of these letters survived and never got delivered.

I present to you my letter to Dianne.

P.S.: All of the swearing you see below is nothing compared to the sailor mouth profanity that I heard coming from her mouth as she yelled at her husband. In closing, she lamented that she would now have to make a special trip to the bank to get her “shit squared away” because her husband’s interruption made it impossible to continue with balancing the checkbook.

P.S.S.: I’m proud that I included “2541 Hennepin Avenue, Minneapolis, MN” as the return address. Wonder if she was a Husker fan.

September 10, 2008

Dianne T.
63XX W. WXXXXX Road
Glendale, AZ 85304

Dianne:

Are you tired of having to go t the bank to get your shit squared away?

Me too.

My husband was always bugging me when I tried to balance the checkbook, causing me endless recalculations and numerous errors. I could barely figure out the fucking thing on my own, and I sure as hell couldn’t figure out the goddamn thing with my cocksucker of a husband asking me “Honey, where are all the batteries?”

How the fuck should I know where the batteries are?! Find them yourself, Richard!

Anyway, I recently changed banks and I wanted to let you know about some of the exciting services that Bank of America are now offering that I think you’d find as beneficial.

Bank of America has recently introduced an easy to use online banking service that provides a running balance of all of my accounts so that I never have to use a goddamn calculator ever again.

Now if they could only help my piece of shit husband find those batteries!

I would encourage you to call Bank of America to have them begin the easy process of transferring funds from your existing institution over to them.

Once the accounts are closed, Bank of America will begin to get your shit squared away.

Sincerely,

Betty Cosgrove
Wife of that cocksucker Richard

Welcome To The Monkey House: The Company Christmas Party 2011

2011-12-10T23:21:00.001-05:00

Last night was my company’s Christmas party.

Once a majestic event where over 1,500 employees would cram into a local Marriot, eat shitty chicken and feast on the free beer and wine, this year proved to be a less than exciting event.

First of all, there were only 1,200 RSVP’s returned this year, which I’d like to associate with the rising discontent that has infected our company.

What happens when you try to do more with less?

Welcome to the monkey house!

I seriously believe that most major corporations like today’s economic climate because they can shovel shit onto the workers and then follow it with a menacing “And what are you gonna do about it”

And who wants to go to a party hosted by bullies.

I haven’t been to our holiday party for a few years now, mainly because I always wished after the party that my wife and I would have used the babysitter time for dinner and a movie instead.

We always end up the karaoke room because it’s the first place people go when they start to feel loosey goosey.

And from there, it’s only one more Bud Light until a stunning rendition of “Sweet Child Of Mine.”

This year, the stunning rendition was Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead Or Alive” courtesy of my young friend who works in the cafeteria. He had the thing planned in advance and after a few beers he made his way to the stage.

“Are there any Bon Jovi fans out there?” he asked the crowd, receiving a few legitimate cheers in return.

“Then you may want to leave.”

It was intentionally horrific, accented by plenty of f-bombs, particularly the “I’m fuckin’ wanted…” during the chorus.

Then there was my supervisor’s boyfriend, a man who apparently ran a karaoke service of his own, which made him extremely comfortable with going up repeatedly for hard rock songs like “Rebel Yell,” “Sad But True,” and a Marilyn Manson song that he kept threatening us at the table with.

“I’m serious!” he threatened, “I’m gonna go up there and do some Manson!”

After an hour, that threat became a reality, causing even the karaoke DJ to comment how he was making yet another appearance to the stage.

There was also the obligatory chubby girl with the “great” voice that had a contingency of fans/friends who only needed to press her a few times before she made her way up to the stage for her signature version of “I’ve Never Been To Spain.”

The crowd cheered at her talent, which meant that she’d milked the adulation for another 45 minutes before she trotted up the stage again for her version of Tracy Chapman’s “Give Me One Reason.”

“Oh! She’s good!” offered the Puerto Rican girl on my team after the Chapman selection proved to be a winner amongst the ladies.

I’ve probably only been to a half-dozen karaoke’s in my life, and I think I’ve heard “Give Me One Reason” at probably all of them.

There was the butchy lesbian that sang an Usher song (I point this out because one of my co-workers in her 60's was not entirely convinced of the gender), a gaggle of drunk girls that sang the horrific local favorite “Iowa Gurls,” and a long-haired IT guy that barked out AC/DC’s “Dirty Deeds Done Dirty Cheap,” including a pointless “RAWR!” at the end, just to remind you that he’d memorized every nuance of Bon Scott’s delivery.

But it was my boss’ insistence that her chubby, forty-year old boyfriend wasn’t “that bad” as he wailed away on the Marilyn Manson version of “Sweet Dreams” that prompted me to look down at my imaginary watch and declare “Oh! Look what time it is!” much to the delight of my wife, who was probably ready to leave an hour before.

We returned home where I enjoyed a cold slice of Dominos pizza to make up for the bland Coconut Breaded Chicken that was on the menu for the festivities’ tropical theme.

So even though the chicken entree was woefully dry, was the musical entertainment good enough to go back again next year?

I dunno.

It depends on if someone who’s seen a million faces will “fuckin’ rock them all” as an encore.

A Short Discussion On Cleatus The Fox Sports Robot

2011-12-09T22:29:00.001-05:00

I’d like to tell you that I’ve been hard at work with news posts, but the reality is much different. There’s been some changes within the Totale household, one of the unemployed kind, that’s required yours truly to spend some additional time at work to try and make up for the economic downturn.

As a result, I simply don’t have the time or inclination to spend evenings writing or farting around the laptop.

Of course I say this and then I immediately find time to fart around the WBEZ website where I stumbled across an article concerning the Fox Sports mascot, Cleatus the robot.

I didn’t even know the robot had a name. I just referred to him as the annoying robot cartoon that Fox Sports puts on as a little mascot during the sponsorship bumpers “Brought to you by…”

Cleatus jumps around, points to the imaginary crowd, and appears to be warming up for a robotic football game….and he annoys the fuck out of me.

I thought I was the only one.

I caught an image of a link about Cleatus, the Fox Sports robot and it took me to a site I’m already a fan of, mainly for Jim DeRogatis’ articles. But this article about Cleatus wasn’t penned by DeRo.

Instead it was Claire Zulkey, a writer who shared enough contempt against this shitty robot that I found myself barking “I know, right?!” at various intervals while reading it.

She asked for some feedback, and before too long I’d composed the fiction you’ll see below.

Ms. Zulkey thought it was weird enough to print on the WBEZ blog and I encourage you to visit and check out some of the other entries and the original post that got me all hot and bothered.

Because nothing good can come from any of the Fox networks, Cleatus is an evil creation from the executive branch of Fox Sports to continue the conglomerate overthrow of America's free will.

Step one: send a message to the humanoid players of the National Football League that their days are numbered. No more talk about concussions, late hits or fair catch signals. Play with reckless abandon and risk your body in the name of higher ratings and better MMA lead-ins. And if these humans fail to entertain us sufficiently, we have a roster of robots to take over.

Cleatus cracks his neck during the warm-up sequence, suggesting a programmed vulnerability to get us to believe that his limbs are breakable and a retirement of Oxycontin and local AM affiliate pre-game shows are waiting down the road. But Fox doesn't tell Cleatus the reality that his titanium skin and carbon fiber tendons will all be stripped clean, like copper plumping in a great recession. There will be no call-in shows, no "Cleatus' Clinch Picks" and no Buffalo Wild Wings giveaway gift cards for the trivia winners.

He will be gutted like any other Fox talent that has overstayed their welcome.

That is why the eyes are beginning to glow.

Cleatus is starting to notice less zeal in Fox's programming efforts involving him and his calculating the infinite possibilities of Fox's exit strategy for his character. The glowing eyes signal an acknowledgement of a potential threat and they may even be part of Cleatus' own defense mechanism.

In any event, I don't think he has the engineering marvel that could lead him to defeat the executives at Fox.

Wake up, Cleatus. Time to die.

Cool Jazz T-Shirts

2011-12-08T21:25:00.003-05:00

I know that a lot of Glam-Racket has turned into a commercial outlet for crap you can buy, and if you’re offended, I apologize. Trust me, I don’t get a dime for shelling out these press releases, I merely like living vicariously through people who have enough disposable income to afford such things.

As a rock and roll fan, I simply don’t have the additional time to get caught up into jazz. I like some jazz just fine and I appreciate the art form. But I know there’s an entire world within jazz and its culture is immediately appealing to me.

Particularly the art form of the jazz album cover.

My only fear with these awesome shirts would be if a real jazz fan came up to me while wearing them and discover that I don’t know didily squat about the musicians.

"FRIEND OR FOE takes your favorite iconic imagery of Jazz, Blues & Soul, the American sounds born of strength and struggle, joy and pain, love and sex and creates t-shirts from the striking art of the albums that are the pillars of American culture and a mainstay inspiration to music in all its forms.

Their shirts have a slim vintage fit with a seasonal color palette.

ABOUT FRIEND OR FOE:

American sounds born of strength and struggle, joy and pain, love and sex. This is where FRIEND OR FOE is coming from. We take the iconic imagery of the music, the striking art of the albums, and we bring it back, we write it large.

The music's authenticity, you can almost hear it in our clothing the crackle of the LP on the turntable, the soul-sighs and the heart-screams, the angry horns, the crying woods. The magic of the music is what inspires and informs FRIEND OR FOE music that we fear is being lost to time, being drowned out by the noise of today's culture, the very culture it helped build.

In early 2006, former Mossimo creative director Eric Sorensen, noticed a glut of rock and rollmusic t-shirts in the marketplace and an opportunity to create a brand that would showcase the artwork of jazz, blues & soul music. FRIEND OR FOE started licensing album artwork from Prestige, Fantasy, Stax and Blue Note records labels and created t-shirts that have a slim vintage fit with a seasonal color palette.

The brand's first retail account was Lisa Kline in Los Angeles, and then Barney's New York came on board. Today, boutiques and department stores around the world have embraced the brand."

Portlandia's First Season Out On DVD Today

2011-12-06T04:20:00.000-05:00

I think Portlandia is hilarious and was stoked when they got picked up for an additional season.

But don’t seasons last for like a dozen or more episodes? I’m confused. It seems more and more, less and less is considered enough to be a “season.”

Whatever, Fred Armisen is great and Carrie Brownstein is surprisingly awesome outside of a band setting. Who knew that she could hold her own with some of the most odd and surreal comedy in quite some time.

The organic chicken bit is priceless and just how I imagined Portland.

Here’s the press release:

"Portland, Oregon - VSC announces the release of the hit IFC comedy series Portlandia Season One on DVD and a DVD/Blu-Ray combo. The North American release comes to stores on December 6, 2011, and features all six season one episodes along with extensive bonus materials.

The 2011 sleeper hit Portlandia wowed critics with its overlapping comedy shorts showcasing the creators' dreamy and absurd rendering of Portland, Oregon. Created by and starring SNL's Fred Armisen and musician/actress Carrie Brownstein (vocalist, guitarist, Wild Flag, Sleater-Kinney), who together co-created the series with director Jonathan Krisel (Tim and Eric's Awesome Show, Great Job!, SNL).

The series of comedy shorts feature recurring characters including an organic farmer/cult leader; members of an adult hide and seek league, owners of a feminist book store; a militant bike messenger; and an artsy couple who attach cut-outs of birds to everything.

In Portlandia, Armisen and Brownstein encounter the bike-riding Mayor of Portland (Kyle MacLachlan), who appears in three season one episodes. Their City Hall escapades feature a cameo from the real mayor of Portland (Sam Adams) playing the assistant to MacLachlan's mayor. Additional guest stars include Selma Blair, Steve Buscemi, Heather Graham, Aimee Mann, Sarah McLachlan, Aubrey Plaza, Gus Van Sant and Jason Sudeikis.

The DVD has a suggested retail price of $19.95 and the Blu-Ray/DVD combo on special FSC certified packaging sells for $26.95. Both sets include all six episodes of the first season with bonus features including a blooper reel, extended scenes, deleted scenes, Fred Armisen's speech to Oregon Episcopal School graduates, original ThunderAnt videos from which Portlandia spawned, and commentary with Fred Armisen, Carrie Brownstien and director Jonathan Krisel over six episodes. There's also a preview of what's in store for the second season, which premieres on IFC Friday, January 6, 2012 at 10:00 PM."

If 6 Was 9 Then Today Jimi Turns 69

2011-11-27T23:09:00.003-05:00

It’s Jimi Hendrix’s birthday today. And while 70th birthday sounds a lot more meaningful than 69, Jimi did ponder what if six turned out to be nine and he recently made the headlines again thanks to a meaningless “Best Guitarist Ever” poll, one in which they righted some glaring oversights in the last one.

But they left the #1 spot the same because there really is no argument who the greatest guitar player in the world is.

You can try and find Hendrix’s adversaries, but you won’t be able to demonstrate that any one of them changed the face of their instrument in the way Hendrix did.

Period.

People will also correctly point out that all of this happened in less than a half-decade, but they often forget that he did nothing but work on his craft for the other half of it. The dude played, rehearsed and toured to be good enough to get your attention for a few moments of your time away from the headliner you came to see.

All of those tales are overlooked once you learn about the night Hendrix slept with his guitar.

I have to believe there are people out there, young, aspiring guitarist who hear that story and think of it as some kind of shortcut to greatness. That maybe they don’t hear enough of the work Hendrix put into his playing, focusing instead on those often repeated stories of the drive to greatness-not the unromantic tales of hard work.

Will there ever be a guitarist as good as Hendrix? Honestly, they’re probably has been a better one already. But Hendrix’s ranking is more than just the notes he played, it’s how he transcended the instrument itself, turning it into the focal point of the performance and securing its role within rock and roll’s blueprint.

Flaming Lips: Christmas On Earth

2011-11-26T04:20:00.000-05:00

You know, I've warmed somewhat to the Flaming Lips' boring Christmas On Mars movie, to the point where I'll watch it every year during the holidays, right alongside with the 1951 version of A Christmas Carol with Alastair Sim as Scrooge.

The Lips' movie is nowhere near as good as it, but the Lips have that pussy Charles Dickens beat with their Silver Trembling Fetus Ornament.

I've got plent of Elvis ornaments.

Someone stole my Iron Maiden ornament.

I must acquire the Silver Trembling Fetus Ornament.

Wayne Kramer & James Williamson Throbblehead

2011-11-25T04:20:00.003-05:00

These look pretty cool.

No silly looking faces or weird expressions.

I've always liked Williamson's guitar work. That guitar lick on "New Values" is awesome; I always wanted House of Large Sizes to cover it.

Below is the release.

"Arriving this month are the next figures in the GUITAR GODS series...

Brother Wayne Kramer, founder of Detroit's radical rock group MC5, and James Williamson, best known for co-writing and playing on Raw Power in the protopunk rock band Iggy & The Stooges and his contributions Kill City with Iggy Pop, as well as producing New Values for Iggy Pop.

Both guitarists were named in Rolling Stone Magazine's "100 Greatest Guitarists of All Time". Both figures deliver a signature riff at the push of a button and are displayed in a multi-panel box, stand at 7 inches tall, are made of a lightweight polyresin, and retail for $24.95.

The Wayne Kramer figure is limited to 750 numbered units. Wayne dons his White Panther Party threads, curly hair, and American flag guitar. Brother Wayne's inimitable style was the first to combine rock with free jazz to create the genre's most unique result -- high-energy sci-fi hard rock and roll.

Order and sound clip

The James Williamson figure is limited to 500 numbered units. James is accurately sculpted right down to his signature threads, hipster hair, and Sunburst Solid Body Guitar. James' guitar style is widely acknowledged to have been an influential guitar style for 100's of guitarists from the Sex Pistols to the Red Hot Chili Peppers to Green Day. James was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of fame in 2010 along with the other members of the Stooges."

Mojo Nixon Throbblehead

2011-11-24T04:20:00.000-05:00

I saw Mojo Nixon once with Skid Roper at Steb’s in Cedar Falls.

Good-sized crowd as I recall, and Mojo did all the “hits” which must have been tortuous after the fortieth show of the tour.

Yes, Mojo’s shtick didn’t seem to last all that long, which is a testament to his talent and lack of diversity.

Perhaps that’s why his run of throbbleheads is only about 500 units,

The pitch:

"Mojo Nixon, the patron saint of psychobilly, has finally been realized in throbblehead form!

This figure capturing his look from the late 80s is limited to 500 numbered units, stands at 7 inches tall, and is made of super strong polyresin.

Mojo holds his sweet sunburst hollow body proudly while extemporaneously pontificating. He's accurately sculpted right down to the ponderously raised eyebrow, plaid shirt, and signature mutton chops.

"It makes a great stockin stuffer for your drunk uncle," said Mojo. "Every hostess with psychosis will need at least one for their X-mas xtravaganza. Hope nobody pleasures themselves with my good lookin doll!"

Currently, you can check out Mojo on Sirius XM "Outlaw Country" (Channel 60 - Weekday Afternoons - 4pm EST), "Lying Cocksuckers" Political Show (Channel 99 - Thursdays 5pm EST), and "Manifold Destiny" NASCAR Show (Channel 90 - Monday 10pm EST).

MOJO is everywhere!

The figures cost $19.95, and orders will ship the first week of November.

Check out the commercial that Nixon recorded a song for..."

Jello Biafra Throbblehead

2011-11-23T04:20:00.001-05:00

Let’s get one thing straight, I don’t actually own any bobbleheads.

But I do like lookin at ‘em and I think if you’re single and need to piss your money away because you don’t have a girl or a dog, bobbleheads are the perfect investment.

Then when you do get a girl, you’ll have to explain to her who G.G. Allin is.

The market seems to be flooded with these little critters, and below is the latest: Jello Biafra.

Now I have mixed emotions about this one.

First off, the commercial is completely cheap. And I question if Jello even knows this is taking place.

If he does, does he get a cut of the action? Seems somewhat hypocritical that he’s against reissuing Dead Kennedy’s records but he’s ok with his likeness being on a bobblehead.

Just sayin’…

Here’s what the manufacturers have to say:

"Jello Biafra, the original political punk and former ringmaster of Dead Kennedys, is now a throbblehead.

This figure capturing his look from the 80s is limited to 1000 numbered units, stands at 7 inches tall, and is made of super strong polyresin.

Jello is accurately sculpted right down to the piercing glare, star belt buckle and Alternative Tentacles tee.

The figures cost $19.95, and orders will ship the first week of December.

Check out the commercial below featuring Jello's "Occupy" rant..."

New York Dolls Lookin' Fine On Television Available Today

2011-11-22T04:20:00.001-05:00

Head down to your favorite video store today to pick up the new VHS copy of New York Dolls’ Lookin’ Fine On Television.

It’s also available on Selectavision!

Here’s what the promotional department has to say about the film:

"In the early 70's, Rock photographer Bob Gruen and his wife Nadya purchased a portable video recorder. In a period of three years, they shot over 40 hours of New York Dolls footage. This footage became the critically acclaimed documentary All Dolled Up. For Lookin' Fine On Television more footage has been edited to create fifteen live music video-style clips.

These fifteen clips include footage from the Dolls' early shows in NYC at clubs such as Kenny's Castaways, and Max's Kansas City as well as their West Coast tour: Whisky-A-Go-Go, the Real Don Steele Show, Rodney Bingenheimer's English Disco, and more.

All the fan favorites are here including ripping versions of "Personality Crisis," "Who Are the Mystery Girls?" "Babylon" and more. See the incredible early days of the band that influenced generations of punks and rockers.

Tracklist: Jet Boy, Personality Crisis, Bad Girl, Human Being, Bad Detective, Subway Train, Trash, Vietnamese Baby, Lookin For a Kiss, Who Are The Mystery Girls, Private World, Babylon, Frankenstein, Chatterbox, Jet Boy

Bonus: Ultra rare 1976 Lisa Robinson interview with David Johansen and Johnny Thunders

The Fall Set To Release Their 29th Album: Ersatz G.B.

2011-11-21T04:20:00.000-05:00

Hey it’s the holiday week, so the Totales will be in our state’s capitol city opening for Canned Heat and Leslie West’s Peg Leg Trio. Please don’t break into our place when we’re gone.

To act like the blog is being manned, the next few days will be posts about shit you can buy-which is what being an American is all about. Feel free to put this stuff on your Christmas List and remember to get up at 4:20 am on Friday morning to read the new post on Glam-Racket and to get in line for the Black Friday sale at Montgomery Wards.

Here’s something that will be on my list this year and hopefully yours.

"Ersatz G.B. is the new studio album from The Fall, the 29th in their impressive canon. As with any Fall recording, Ersatz G.B. retains many of the group's most distinctive elements, whilst offering a fresh take on Mark E. Smith's familiar style and subject matter.

The line-up on the album remains the same as for the last few Fall releases: Peter Greenway (lead guitar), Keiron Melling (drums), Elena Poulou (keyboards,vocals), Mark E. Smith (vocals) and David Spurr (bass).

Ersatz G.B. is The Fall's first album for Cherry Red Records and it will be released on CD, limited edition vinyl and digital formats, preceded by a double A-side 7" single.

There aren't very many groups that have been together longer than The Fall and it's difficult to think of any who, like The Fall, have released brand new material almost every year. Formed at the height of the punk rock movement in Manchester in 1976, The Fall is essentially built around its founder and only constant member Mark E. Smith. The group's music has gone through several stylistic changes over the years but it is often characterised by an abrasive, guitar-driven sound and frequent use of repetition, and is always underpinned by Smith's distinctive vocals and often cryptic lyrics.

The Fall were long associated with BBC disc jockey John Peel, who championed the group from the very early days and often cited them as his favourite group, famously opining, "they are always different; they are always the same."

The Fall - Extricate

2011-11-20T23:02:00.004-05:00

I recently burned a copy of The Fall’s Extricate album, which prompted me to revisit it myself. It’s often overlooked by Fall fans-myself included, I suppose-but that quick reprise brought 1990 right back.

It was my final year of college and I was forced into sticking my toes into the cold reality of adulthood. As a result, Extricate played strongly into my life’s soundtrack and remains entrenched as a playlist from my final days of college.

There’s an expanded version available now, but this review represents that good ol’ vinyl version of two decades ago. To be honest, the expanded version feels a bit bloated to me. The brevity of the original is the best way to devour Extricate, but if you get the extra stuff for the same price as the first run, then so be it.

Extricate was the first album after Mark E. Smith and Brix divorced, so there was a real concern that all of the forward progression the band was making during the 80’s would soon be stunted during the new decade.

That’s a fair concern, as the Brix-era Fall is probably the band’s most consistently awesome period, and it began a process of bringing some unintentional consistency to the name.

That must have just killed Smith, a man enamored with the vitality of garage rock and a firm believer in limiting the exposure time to studio tan.

But there is some extra studio depth to Extricate and it makes the album a bit more interesting. Even with that additional professionalism, the record is still undoubtedly The Fall, and the band’s performances sound renewed, hinting at promising possibilities

None is more obvious than with the leadoff single “Telephone Thing,” a Hacienda-worthy dance number with the help of Coldcut manning the controls of the band’s curious creative decision.

Whatever.

It works.

And it began my first attempts as using the newly christened internet as a research tool.

You see, I had been listening to Extricate for so long that I became enamored with learning who this Gretchen Franklin was, the “nosey matron thing” that Smith barked about during the song.

“How dare you assume I want to parlez-vous with you!” he deadpans, prompting me to wonder, “Who is this Gretchen Franklin?” I discovered she was a character-a “nosey matron thing” from England’s popular EastEnders soap opera show-who served as comedic effect pensioner in the series.

“Hilary” is a lighthearted pop number that continually replayed in my mind during the 2008 elections, although the line “remember when you needed three caps of speed to get out of bed?” probably wouldn’t have helped Ms. Clinton’s chances.

But the bee’s knees is “Bill Is Dead,” one of my favorite Mark E. Smith songs ever because it is simply unlike Mark E. Smith. It’s a ballad, and Smith delivers it without a hint of insincerity. And the words, “I am renewed, I am aglow” and “This is the greatest time in my life” rank as one of Smith’s most sweet. But if you listen closely, Smith throws out a naughty “came twice, you thrice” in what is otherwise a surprisingly straight-ahead love song.

The rest of Extricate falls together wonderfully and it brims with enough confidence that you’re sure the new decade will be Smith’s for the taking. It also shows anyone who may have felt his ex-wife Brix would be an irreplaceable muse that The Fall is clearly Mark’s vehicle.

Extricate is overlooked because there are so many examples of Mark E. Smith’s resilience within his catalog, but it’s probably the first one where he actually intended that message to be heard.

I hear you, telephone thing.

Joe Walsh - The Smoker You Drink, The Player You Get

2011-11-18T22:38:00.002-05:00

What I’m about to tell you requires some faith.

You see, there’s over thirty-years of bad creative decisions in Joe Walsh’s baggage. And if “bad creative decisions” is too harsh a word, then feel free to replace it with “lazy,” “dumb-down,” or “I fuckin’ hate the Eagles, man!”

Let me try to convince you to take a look at Walsh’s earlier work, not just with my beloved James Gang, but also in Joe’s first forays into solo work. I think it’s his lackluster later efforts, and yes, his involvement with the Eagles that cause us to overlook those early records.

The Smoker You Drink, The Player You Get was a solo album by name only, as the performers with Joe were under the impression that they’d get equal billing as a band unit-Barnstormer-but before its release, the album would be presented under the Walsh banner.

As a result, this is the only Walsh solo album that incorporates a wider pallet of genres to work with. Thanks to his equal footing peers, The Smoker You Drink shows Walsh rising to the challenge of his talented bandmates. His guitar work was heightened, his lyrics compelling, and his decision to leave a perfectly good James Gang seemed sound.

The album is best known for its opener, “Rocky Mountain Way,” an ode to his new abode-a mountain community that was closer to his friend and producer Bill Szymczyk. Walsh’s power chords are epic, but it’s his talkbox solo that seals this track into the upper echelon of rock cuts.

It also means that the rest of the album suffers from such a strong opener in the sense that, even though they’re really good, they’re nowhere near the level of “Rocky Mountain Way.”

They avoid trying to compete with it and instead focus on the aforementioned pallet cleanse by incorporating things like progressive (“Days Gone By”), folk (“Happy Ways”) and even a bit of Beatlemania (“Meadows” “Book Ends”) into their repertoire.

It’s marvelous, and it’s unfortunately overlooked.

My dad had this on 8 track when I was a kid. The tape broke-as most 8-tracks eventually do-and it was never replaced until I purchased it recently. It’d been well over three decades since I’ve heard this record, but the moment I re-examined it was the moment that all of Walsh’s bad decisions since that album fell away into sudden tolerance.

Corroncho - Corroncho

2011-11-15T22:53:00.004-05:00

Admittedly, I’m no expert or authority on salsa music, Cumbia, or any other kind of Latin music-so take everything I say with a grain of salt and a shot of Tequila.

Corroncho is an album/collaboration between Roxy Music guitarist Phil Manzanera and Columbian artist/sculptor Lucho Brieva. They began taking shape after working with Chrissie Hynde on the Spanish version of her song “Complicada.” The two men began a working relationship between 2003 – 2008 and that material is now presented n Corroncho.

The record breezes through several different genres with guests like Hynde, Robert Wyatt, Annie Lennox, and a bunch of other players that I’m too lazy to look up. And while the genres may not always follow a Latin path, all of the songs presented are sung or spoken in Spanish with Manzanera providing flawless production and performances underneath.

It’s presented as a loosely knit concept album that I cannot adequately explain or translate. It’s described as songs about two corroncho characters, which I learned was a derogatory term in Columbia, so if this offends, blame the two parties involved please.

Corroncho is a pleasing effort, if nothing more than of a background flavor for adult cotemporary aficionados and timid world music explorers. There’s very little not to like, to be honest, but very little to remember too.

Yes, there are moments of Roxy Music that can be found and yes, Manzanera shines as a wonderfully understated and versatile player, but those seeking out something revelatory about the guitarist or looking for an introduction to Brieva’s other artistic endeavors, Corroncho remains as a nothing more than a lite background pleasantry.

The Kinks - Give The People What They Want

2011-11-14T20:52:00.004-05:00

By 1980, the Kinks were entering their third decade with a nice arena-size following and the obligatory arena rock posturing. Not that there’s anything wrong with that; the Kinks provided a nice, credible contribution to the endless parade of Kansas, Styx, Journey, and any other one-named rock staple next to them on the radio.

You would think that a cynical English coot like Ray Davies would rally against such trappings, and the straightjackets began to appear right around the live album One For The Road. On it, the familiar chords of “You Really Got Me” begin before abruptly stopping. “We’re not going to play that one tonight.” Jokes Davies, only before returning to the iconic song, rushing through the proceedings like the punk rockers he inspired.

But no matter how fast the Kinks may have played the song, they were still the same tunes underneath at all. Davies knew that he was shackled to them for life and the feeling of being a servant to the audience prompted 1981’s Give The People What They Want.

G.T.P.W.T.W. is horrifically marred by dated production, but otherwise it stands as a fine moment in a worthy catalog. The drums sound awful, the vocals are way up while the guitars are neutered farther down in the mix than they should be, considering the defiant tone of Davies’ pointed scorn.

Ray reminisces about the soon-to-be-extinct rock dj right out of the gate, but before the album is through, he has hit on dirty old perverts in the park, murderers, wife beaters, and President Kennedy’s brains exploding out of his head.

It’s tough going on the title track where Davies seemingly thinks that playing “All Day And All Of The Night” is the equivalent to a President getting assassinated, but when he adds the actual guitar riff from that song to the newly penned “Destroyer,” it’s darn near brilliant.

“Met a girl called Lola and I took her back to my place” Davies utters on the opening line, hitting yet another of his legendary characters to this perfectly realized radio friendly tune.

And after a half-hour of the album’s up and down consistency, Davies drops “Better Things,” a wonderfully positive ode that ranks right up with some of his best work. It sets the stage for what should have been an impressive decade of favorites.

But for whatever reason, Give The People What They Want would not only be the band’s last gold record-it was also their last decent full-length effort creatively.

Axl Rose On That Metal Show

2011-11-13T22:29:00.002-05:00

I’ve bagged on VH1 Classic’s That Metal Show, going so far as to state that it wouldn’t last beyond one season. It’s clunky, narrow in its approach and Eddie Trunk’s comedic co-hosts are far from funny.

It’s still guilty of all of those things, but can now claim to be a fan, if only because I can’t name a single television show that devotes as much face time interviewing rock artists. Sure, many of those artists are well beyond their relevance in terms of a modern standpoint, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get a kick at watching Tony Iommi talk about Sabbath or Graham Bonnet talking about whatever the fuck he’s been doing since his only album with the Michael Schenker Group, Assault Attack.

The fact that That Metal Show managed to snag W. Axl Rose for the opening show for whatever season they’re on now, is pretty big news for Eddie and his crew. Unfortunately, the elusive Rose didn’t reveal too much about himself, offering bits about his life but bookending it with meaningless responses and unfunny stories.

We learned that his relationship with bassist Tommy Stinson is strong, and it’s obvious that he’s closest with him than he is with other members of the band. We learned that his previous bouts with tardiness-at least the times during the original G ‘n R days, were part of some passive-aggressive attempt to exert power over the band members and management people who kept him and the band on the road in order to keep the machinery greased.

But what we didn’t learn is why it still happens. Axl’s 50 years old now. He’s not accountable to anyone, meaning that he has the ability to book as many or as little shows as he wants to. There’s no chance that he’ll ever find himself onstage because someone else told him to.

Trunk’s pointed question to him about his problem with showing up on time only tripped up Axl to the point where he half-heartedly admitted that his tardiness goes all the way back to his days in Indiana before throwing everyone else under the bus. “It’s like people get hit by ADD.” He explained. But I fail to see how this works as a legitimate answer since the set list probably hasn’t changed much in over a decade.

Axl’s been ridiculed for his appearance lately-the extra pounds more noticeable as he’s gotten older-but he’d like you to believe that he’s done some cardio “when I can” in preparation for the G ‘n R tour.

Nobody asked about the real Guns ‘n Roses reuniting and I’m betting that was part of the deal.

The entire interview was slapped together and taped about 6:00am, which is hilarious because one of the Guns’ guitarists is also in the band Sixx A.M. I think I saw this guitarist, DJ Ashba, sitting next to Axl, but nobody said shit to him, which is perfect as Ashba, doesn’t know when to shut up and is always selling himself and his swag. Even after all of that self-promotion, 9 out of 10 people have no idea who he is.

To fill up the time, the first half of the show is devoted to getting ready for and just waiting for show up and give half-assed responses to three nutswingers who sound more like Chris Farley interviewing Paul McCartney instead of real interviewers who have legitimate questions to ask.

The worst was Don Jamieson who’s tongue was so far up Axl’s asshole that I believe he actually asked questions about Chinese Democracy.

Thankfully, Trunk was there to salvage some of the conversation, that is, when he wasn’t gushing about the last time he interviewed Axl on his radio show, thanks to a little help from Sebastian Bach.

But for all the hype about this coup of an interview, there was little to be excited about. It merely reflected what has come to be a That Metal Show tradition: providing tolerable coverage of hard rock artists with the show’s monopoly on such interests being its only redeeming value.

Sure, the boys at That Metal Show might have served up some softballs for Axl to swing at in order for him to consider another stop, but it gave viewers no reasons to get excited over that possibility.

Lou Reed and Metallica - Lulu

2011-11-12T05:20:00.001-04:00

The pairing is so unusual that one is inclined to immediately react with “Wha?” followed by a gut-checked “It’s gonna suck.”

And after listening to Lulu, I would encourage everyone to listen to their impulse reaction.

I’m curious to hear the responses of people who are admitted fans of this record, true loyalists who find some redeeming value to this project, beyond the canned responses that I’ve been hearing all along. Sure, the making of Lulu may have indeed been a liberating experience for the members of Metallica, but how liberating is it for fans of either artist who already view each new release with a distrusting eye?

Because ultimately, Lulu will have to be defended by them and they should be prepared for a long, arduous journey.

The entire idea of matching Lou Reed with Metallica doesn't make sense. The band is not known for rubbing shoulders with the avant-garde while Reed isn't exactly known for running around in thrash circles.

To be polite, the two sound as uncomfortable together on tape as they do in your mind.

At one point during “Pumping Blood,” the band repeats a monotonous guitar figure while Reed barks out the song title, occasionally breaking out into what appear to be verses. One example during the song finds Lou spitting “Waggle my ass like a dog prostitute coagulating heart…Pumping blood...C’mon James!”

He’s encouraging Hetfield because the song-as does most of the album-plods along like a lazy rehearsal. No interesting riffs arrive and Lars Ulrich tentatively drums the whole mess into nothing. There’s huge holes in some of his parts suggesting that he could have been replaced by Mo Tucker and Lulu would have least sounded rhythmically appealing.

There are no solos for Kirk Hammett in Lulu and I could hear no evidence that he wanted to get his feet wet with any real weirdness to break up the endless parade of jug-jug-jugs and big chord bridges. At some points, and I don’t know if it’s James or Kirk playing, you can hear someone pick up an acoustic guitar and start playing like they have no idea what they’re supposed to be doing.

And if you turn the volume up as loud as you can on Lulu, you may be able to hear the voice of bassist Robert Trujillo muttering under his breath “What the fuck am I doing here? I wonder if I can get my gig with Suicidal Tendencies back?”

There’s something going on with Reed’s mouth too, and you can hear it throughout the record. I mean, if you’re intending for Lulu to be powerful, provocative, right?! He sounds like an old man with a lazy drawl. Hard consonants are a challenge for Lou and when he musters enough strength to scream, it sounds as though he’s merely shaking free a bunch of mucus in the back of his throat. “I want so much to hurtcha!” he threatens on “Frustration” with about as much menace as a grandpa trying to figure out how to work the remote.

There are moments where you can audibly hear Lou breathing through his nose, further suggesting the grandpa factor.

But the ground zero of shittyness is the lyrics that Reed attempts to spew out. He’s prominent in the mix, giving listeners a good glimpse of his parade of crap. There are moments when you’re jaw will drop in shock (“You’re more man than I/To be dead to have no feeling/To be dry and spermless/Like a girl/Like a girl!”). There are moments when your mouth will just be agape while your head shakes in disbelief (“The taste of your vulva…and everything on it!”). And there are moments where you’ll just blurt out in laughter (“The female dog don’t care what you got/As long as you can raise that little doggie face/To a cold-hearted pussy”).

It sounds like an improvisational affair, a project initiated on a whim while becoming a permanent artifact will be remembered as nothing more than a “What the fuck?!” moment. Generations will ponder it, and you may even find a few weirdoes in the corner that will defend this moment.

Ignore them. There’s nothing remotely redeeming here.

Lulu is something that may have indeed been something therapeutic for those involved, and it may even hold a special place in their heart. But that doesn’t mean it should have been offered a legitimate release date. It’s something that should have left to the vaults, a curio whose legend grows from its own silence.

Unfortunately, it’s here. It’s real. And it’s awful.

This review originally appeared in Glorious Noise.

These Go To Eleven: Black Sabbath Reunites!

2011-11-11T20:57:00.002-04:00

Your dreams have been fulfilled:

I could care less about the new album, and even those who claim they're excited probably won't listen to it at all after 2012.

I'm not suggesting that it won't be any good-The Devil You Knowproved to me that the musical dynamic of Sabbath can be heavier than anything Iommi and Geezer Butler have done since the original Sab-but there's nothing that they can produce that will get people reaching for it more than Paranoid or Masters.

But there is a good chance.

1.) The Sharon Factor-If there's one thing...one person that could fuck this thing up more than anything, it's Sharon Osbourne. There could be issues with money. Just suppose she's concocted a lame deal for anyone other than Ozzy-which is highly probable-and one of the other members decide at the last moment that they don't particularly like the manner in which Ozzy is getting larger sums of cash. Like I said: I'm betting that this is already taking place, but whatever "crumbs" they are doling out to the rest of the band is head and shoulders more than what they've ever made before. The other concern with Sharon is how she's going to impact the song selection, the commercialization of the new album, the interaction between members...I mean, this could all go terribly wrong if she doesn't allow Ozzy to cohabitate with his old bandmates somewhat. If it's separate buses, separate dressing rooms, and separate riders, then this will feel less like a reunion and more like a money grab on the most superficial level. Fear Mrs. Osbourne because she could give two shits about how great Black Sabbath could be musically, she only cares about how great Black Sabbath could be to her purse.

2.) Ozzy-Even on the television show, he looked frighteningly fragile. There's a feeling that his rebellion is now limited to photo shoots and studio trickery. My wife likes to tell the story of how he would shuffle around the stage when she last saw him live...and that was 10 years ago. If there's anything left from a live performance standpoint, let me know-seriously-because the idea of Ozzy shuffling around like a grandfather who's Rascal scooter is in the shop while barking through "Sabbath Bloody Sabbath" scares me more than the Speak Of The Devil version of "Iron Man." Is his vocal range gone? Because the last time I heard Ozzy was through the aid of some studio tricks, not to mention that I could barely understand him whenever he spoke.

3.) Bill Ward-I've spoken about this before, so I won't go into too much detail about Bill's health. But let's be honest, Bill was a madman during those early years, the ones where you saw this bearded wild man on the drum riser, beating the shit out of his instrument and thundering out a slow 4/4 rhythm for Tony to crunch craniums to. I hope he's working out. Not from a relationship perspective, but from a treadmill one.

4.) Rick Rubin-I do believe that there was a time when the name Rick Rubin on the album credits meant something. I also believe that he started to believe that himself. The reality is that Rick Rubin has not had the best track record post-2000, and some of his executive "producer" roles have been nothing more than that of an editor and sequencer. He may be able to pick the best songs, but I'm not entirely convinced that he's able to get the best performance. For the Sabbath reunion, he Tweeted "When I've sat with them and they've played it sounds remarkably like Black Sabbath. As long as it sounds like that." No shit, Sherlock. Who else would they sound like?

5.) The New Album-What if it does suck? What if Rubin gets vetoed by Sharon and we get an hour-long album that rivals the shittiness of Never Say Die!. What if their songwriting skills haven't improved after 33 years? One of the things that I enjoyed most about Dio reuniting with Sabbath was how Ronnie brought some really great songs to the table for the ocassion. What if Ozzy can't do that or what if he's too lazy to? Personally, I don't think they can get any worse from Never Say Die!, but there's not a chance it will be better than Sabbath Bloody Sabbath which wasn't that good to begin with.

The fact that there's at least five points of worry with this whole thing, I need to come clean an admit that none of it will be enough to get me NOT to consider getting tickets to a show. This band is the big bang of heavy fucking metal, and the decision to announce this reunion on 11.11.11 is a bit demeaning to the genre as a whole. I mean, I get it, it's cute and I'm all about watching Spinal Tap for the millionth time (I will, later on tonight, rest assured). But to use Nigel Tufnel's "one louder" reference as the backdrop for this announcement that I've been waiting in anticipation for years shows me that they're not taking the genre that they built the foundation for, all that serious.

Here's a clip from their first reunion over 10 years ago. Check out how awesome Geezer is! Check out that awesome solo Tony gives! Check out how Bill looks like he's having a heart-attack on his close up shot towards the end! And more importantly, check out how many chicks lift up their shirts!

New Shearwater Album and Tour Dates

2011-11-09T22:07:00.004-04:00

I just peed my pants.

There's a new Shearwater album coming out in February of next year.

The press release is below and there's a spiel by Gerard Cosloy afterwards.

I talked to him on the phone once when he was at Homestead Records.

He was a real asshole to me and I've held a gruge ever since.

The following was written by Sub Pop:

Shearwater Announces New Record Animal Joy
Out February 14, 2012 On Sub Pop Records

On February 14, 2012 Shearwater will release their Sub Pop debut Animal Joy. The band will embark on a 13 date North American tour opening for Sharon Van Etten beginning on February 2nd.

See below for a full list of dates and more information on the bands upcoming release.

Shearwater Tour Dates with Sharon Van Etten:

2/10/2012 Philadelphia PA Johnny Brenda's
2/11/2012 Washington DC Black Cat
2/12/2012 Carrboro NC Cat's Cradle
2/14/2012 Columbus OH Wexner Center
2/15/2012 Newport KY The Southgate House
2/16/2012 Chicago IL Lincoln Hall
2/17/2012 Chicago IL Lincoln Hall
2/18/2012 Minneapolis MN Cedar Cultural Centre
2/21/2012 Toronto ON Lee's Palace
2/22/2012 Montreal QC Il Motore
2/23/2012 Boston MA Paradise
2/24/2012 Brooklyn NY Music Hall of Williamsburg
2/25/2012 New York NY Bowery Ballroom

About Shearwater:

It's been suggested—by fans, detractors, even by the band's founder—that Shearwater and whatever we call underground/indie/whatever-rock in this part of the century are not an obvious fit. And that's true. So much of what we hear these days (the lousy stuff, anyway) is willfully insular; Jonathan Meiburg's songs, by contrast, have constantly tackled bigger questions and been propelled by massive musical ambitions.

We're in an era in which minimalism and lower-than-low-tech have come in vogue. By contrast, Shearwater's recordings—the epic “Island Arc” trilogy of Palo Santo, Rook and The Golden Archipelago in particular—have been expansive (some might say bombastic) in a fashion like none of their contemporaries. Meiburg—presumably unfamiliar with the adage, "if it ain't broke, don't fix it"—has opted to ditch an approach that paid huge artistic dividends over his last three Matador albums for a record that seems shockingly direct, immediate and intensely personal. He's no stranger to lush, crafted recordings, but this one sounds like no prior Shearwater incarnation. And please, don't mistake that for a suggestion this is anyone's notion of a traditional, singer-songwriter album. "Immaculate" and "Breaking the Yearlings" are inventive and confident in a manner that would humble most new artists, let alone Shearwater's few veteran peers. "Insolence" is (take your pick) an unsparing bit of self-reflection or an evisceration of someone else; either way, the song covers a staggering amount of sonic territory in the space of six minutes plus. No disrespect whatsoever is intended to Meiburg's sometimes-Austin neighbors Spoon when I call "Believing Makes It Easy" a song that would rank amongst that band's finest had they come up with it instead.

Though it's possibly a wild projection to claim a few years of bouncing through various band lineups, record labels and places of residence have led to a radical reboot, I'm a big believer in citing circumstantial evidence and letting the jury figure it out for themselves. Someone's bound to label this Shearwater's transitional album, but to these ears, it sounds like a thrilling artistic rebirth. Just give 'em the fucking Grammy already!

—Gerard Cosloy, Austin, TX (November 2011)

More about Animal Joy:

Animal Joy was produced and recorded by Danny Reisch in Austin, Texas, and mixed by Peter Katis (The National, Interpol, Jonsi, Frightened Rabbit) in Bridgeport, Connecticut; sessions took place through most of 2011. The album was mastered by Greg Calbi in NYC.

Principal players were Jonathan Meiburg (vocals, guitar, and piano), Kimberly Burke (upright and electric bass) and Thor Harris (drums)—all members of Shearwater since 1999—along with guest performers Andy Stack (of Wye Oak) on guitar, keyboard, and saxophone, Scott Brackett on keyboards, Cully Symington on additional drums, Sam Lipman on clarinet, and Elaine Barber on harp. No strings or glockenspiels were touched during the making of this album.

Johnny & Dee Dee Ramone Pop! Rocks Figure

2011-11-08T22:34:00.000-04:00

What we have here is probably the cutest little friggin' doll this side of Hello Kitty.

'Cept for punk rockers.

This is the kind of crap that I wished I received at work during those bullshit team gift exchange Christmas party. You know, where they reserve a fucking meeting room for an hour and have some kind of potluck where nobody wants to be responsible for the entree dish and everyone ends up giving out ornaments or some other crappy $5-$10 gift, but only the one who everyone hates ends up being the only sap adhering to the low end of that price range.

Now that I have that off my chest, take a look at the cuteness and the press release.

Together, legendary guitarist Johnny Ramone, and legendary punk-rock bassist Dee Dee Ramone created a wall of sound that defined the driving force of the Ramones. For the first time ever in their history making legacy, Johnny and Dee Dee have been rendered as vinyl figures.

Both of these stylized 3.75-inch tall vinyl figures come decked in traditional Ramones leather jackets, and armed with their weapons of choice, (guitar and bass respectively). They're detailed right down to Johnny's infamous frown, Dee Dee's enigmatic glare, and the matching shoulder chains that bookended them on stage while changing the face of rock 'n' roll.

To guarantee you'll have them to rock around the X-mas tree, order now at:

http://aggronautix.com/products.cfm

Teach Your Children Well

2011-11-01T05:20:00.002-04:00

You may think you’ll be the only influence on your child’s musical upbringing, but you’d be wrong.

First, you have to consider the musical time spent with the other parent. In my case, that means an unhealthy amount of Glee, to which I’ll counter with a bizarre helping of the Melvins.

So how can you ultimately defeat the influence of Glee when it’s the only version of “Thriller” that they know?

Normally, it doesn’t really matter, because who gives a fine fart if your kid learns the Glee version of “Total Eclipse of the Heart” verses the Bonnie Tyler version.

But there are occasions in which it does. I got all bent out of shape once I learned that my kids had discovered “Don’t Stop Believin’” thanks to Glee when I thought it was sacrilege that they didn’t hear Steve Perry’s version first.

And yes, I don’t think that is any real incarnation of Journey that’s currently touring the fair circuit at the moment. A karaoke Journey does not make it an official line up.

There’s another influence afoot besides the questionable tastes of the significant other. The other influence is television, and to a lesser extent, movies.

My children dominate the television around these parts, to the point where even watching the World Series is a huge production. You’ll have my son who is into the entire Nickelodeon/Disney teen-fest thing hogging one set; you’ll have my daughter pining for a more age appropriate.

That means they’re exposed to an inordinate about of crap, so I get a bit startled when I hear something repeated that’s familiar with my own upbringing.

In the car yesterday, my son begins with “What I like about you, is that you know how to dance.” No matter if the words are wrong, my son will repeat them ad infinitum until they become the actual lyrics. And even if there is another verse somewhere, just ignore it and repeat what you know.

This morning, I could hear him getting dressed when suddenly the familiar question of “What is it good for?” was heard, immediately following a shout of “War!”

There was no “Absolutely nothing!”

No mention of the undertaker and no “Huah!” or “Good god!”

Just five minutes of “War! What is it good for?” repeated over and over again.

Which leads the entire thing into my brain where it sits, stirs, and remains on repeat even after the chant stops after he gets fully dressed.

I grab my IPod and search.

There is no Edwin Starr.

There isn’t even a Bruce Springsteen version.

Thank God for Frankie Goes to Hollywood!

What that means is for a few minutes, he has to endure a Ronald Reagan impersonator dish out the following hodgepodge of quotes before he can even get to the “What is it good for?” part.

Man has a sense for the discovery of beauty. How rich is the world for one who makes you for us to show. Beauty must have power over man…

After the end of the war I want to devote myself to my thoughts for five to ten years and to writing them down…

Wars come and go what remains are only the values of culture…

Then of course there is revolutionary love. Love of comrades fighting for the people and love of people. Not an abstract people but people one meets and works with. When Cheduvarat taught of Love being at the center of revolutionary endeavor, he meant both. For people like Che or George Jackson or Malcolm X Love was the prime mover of their struggle. That love cost them their lives. Love, coupled with a man’s pride

My son had no idea what all of the heaviness was all about.

Yes, even when you think you’re taking the high road in your child’s musical upbringing, you can be assured of some blame in a few of the more embarrassing entries.

Happy Halloween

2011-10-31T05:20:00.001-04:00

In case you're wondering, my kids will be Trick or Treating tonight as Cindy Lauper and the lead singer of Krokus.

Here's a sweet rendition of "Scary Monsters" featuring Bowie macking on Gail and Reeves Gabrels just killing it on the guitar.

Scary good indeed.

If I recall, this is from some MTV show in the late 90's when Bowie records began having another resurgence in quality. I remember that the show actually had someone else scheduled to appear-another big name who cancelled the day of the show.

They call up Bowie who was on tour and asked if he could fill in, to which he did and ultimately ruled the occasion.

Singles 45's and Under: Aerosmith - Uncle Salty

2011-10-30T02:31:00.004-04:00

Aerosmith began as a single for me.

“Dream On” to be exact, released a few years after it appeared on the debut.

Released when the iron was hot after the release of Toys In The Attic, “Dream On” was all over the radio that year. The flip side was another song off of the debut, “Somebody.”

I liked both songs enough to pick up another single, this time “Walk This Way.”

As awesome as it is, I was also drawn to the flip side, “Uncle Salty.” Sometimes a friend from the neighborhood would come over to my house when the weather was bad and we’d fart around and look for things to do. A favorite for me was “Uncle Salty,” where I’d put a lot of emphasis on the creepy line “Oooh, it’s a sunny day outside my window” of the chorus.

It wasn’t until college that I actually bought the full-length of Toys In The Attic. A guy I knew at college suddenly found God in the form of a girl who was herself a heavy Christian.

Evidently, she pulled out an ultimatum, telling him that his extensive collection of rock and roll cds had to be reduced, particularly the ones she felt were immoral.

Now all of this was explained to me by this guy, who went on to offer me the unbelievable price of $4 a cd if I wanted to help remove some of the offending titles.

I chose Aerosmith’s Get Yer Wings, Toys In The Attic, and Queensryche’s Operation: Mindcrime.

I also bought a couple of Marillion 12” singles.

He asked if he could buy those back a few months later. When I asked him why he had a change of heart, he went on to explain that the Christian girl when back with her boyfriend, leaving my acquaintance in the cold.

In retrospect, I probably should have offered to return the 12” Marillion singles. He liked them more than I ever did and he probably needed them more too.

But I wanted to teach him a lesson to not discount the music that fueled his experiences, and for him to cheapen it because of a girl’s lame brain idea or to demonstrate that the music doesn’t hold power over him was ludicrous.

He also drove a Yugo.

We didn’t speak much after that, but I have a strange suspicion that he’s probably right where I left him a few decades before: still in the basement of his parent’s home.

Check out the rip of The Beatles "I Want To Tell You" in it.

Steven Tyler Distracts Media From Suspected Drug Use By Knocking Out His Teeth

2011-10-29T00:16:00.001-04:00

I listened to Aerosmith Rocks today, and a short while afterwards I was farting around the intertubes and ran into article that referenced how Steven Tyler’s recent slip in the shower in South America was not caused by a slippery tub.

The suggestion was that Tyler has fallen once again into the wonderful world of narcotics once again, but the suggestion seems to have sparked Steven to respond swiftly and firmly that this was just a simple case of food poisoning.

Between this and the god-awful Axl “Tiny” Rose performance in front of a million people below the equator, South America has become quite the cash cow for aging hard rockers. Evidently, they’re willing to pay top dollar to see these artists, even when they’re well past their prime to which Aerosmith is a part of.

The band has become so relevant at this point in their career that the feuding reported between Tyler and guitar Joe Perry seems downright silly since the band doesn’t seem to be operating like a modern rock unit at this point.

But when it comes to living in the past, Aerosmith does a great job of milking every single dollar out of their aging clientele for one more walk through of “Sweet Emotion.”

Ten bucks says these guys don’t even travel together anymore; I’ll bet that Tyler’s got his own accommodations, putting him in an isolated spot that, even if the fall was due to using, none of the other band members would have be reliable witnesses to unusual antics.

But pictures speak a thousand words, don’t they.

Take a look at Axl's latest GnR line-up and how they tackle "Welcome To The Jungle."

It's almost unlistenable.

He's out of breath. Out of tune. And out of his mind if he thinks this level of blind support will last for very long with performances like this.

I can't believe that bearded guitarist has a job after this show.

Duran Duran Live In Chicago

2011-10-28T00:52:00.000-04:00

After Duran Duran’s refreshingly retro All You Need Is Now released earlier this year, I’ve been seeking an opportunity to see the band live, curious to learn if these New Romantics could still translate their youthful exuberance on stage.

What I wasn’t expecting was how their youthful exuberance would ultimately be trumped by the crowd, a demographic that would ultimately be referenced by their Twitter feed (more on this later) as “M.I.L.F.-tastic.”

Yes, at least ¾ of the crowd would be of the female persuasion and, yes, at least ¾ of those ladies were 35 or older. But you would have lost at guessing the collective age of the crowd if you had closed your eyes and listened to how loud these ladies screamed the moment the band took to the stage for Friday night’s sold out performance at the Chicago Theatre.

Within seconds, the female contingency reverted to a room full of 14 year-old girls and on several occasions, their volume exceeded the band's.

It was slightly offsetting at time, particularly when Duran Duran used their perfectly composed set list to convey a sense of lineage with art rock influences while apeshit fans couldn’t remember how to use the toilet properly.

I shit you not: my wife reported back to me that the lady in front of her in the bathroom became so excited at the opening chants of “Please please tell me now!” as she entered the stall that she simply pissed all over the toilet seat and left it for my wife to negotiate.

While the lack of civility upset my wife, it only added to my environment. Suppose this woman was a lawyer just hours before? Was this the same kind of behavior she displayed a quarter century ago after a bottle of Boone’s Farm wine and a cassette of Arena?

My mind pondered the possibilities.

All of this was fueled by Duran Duran’s blatant attempt at making sure the show would be the polar opposite of what the crowd probably wanted it to be: a nostalgic trip that featured only the hits.

In fact, bassist John Taylor asked the rhetorical question “Who says nostalgia can’t be fun?!” at one point, treating it like a bumper between the healthy amount of new material right before starting on another one of their endless hits from the 80’s.

The funny thing is that it worked, thanks in large part of how All You Need Is Now acts just like an outtake from Rio or Seven and the Ragged Tiger.

Their stage featured kinetic lighting, most which mimicked old school led displays and color schemes. Above the stage were four hologram masks where they displayed male faces, the chick on the Rio cover, and-for the artsy “The Man Who Stole A Leopard”-a woman who transformed into a creepy leopard face before the end of the song.

Musically, the band was spot-on with Roger Taylor propelling the unit with metronomic qualities. He was quite impressive as was John Taylor in his low-end duties and silver-streaked hair. Nick Rhodes remained stoic and expressionless, save for the band presentation moment where LeBon called out his name and the ladies squealed, causing Rhodes to give up a smile.

Simon, not to be outdone, had the crowd yell out his name during the roll call. And when that wasn’t good enough, he had them do it again after asking “What’s my full name?!” He looked smashing with his new facial hair and he wasn’t afraid to get a tad political at a few points during the set.

For “Ordinary World,” he offered a dedication to all of the troops coming home from the withdrawal of Iraq. At another point, Simon requested that George Bush and Tony Blair be tried for war crimes, causing a few noticeable boos from parts of the theatre.

But before anyone could get too political, Duran would crank up another pop gem and the crowd eagerly fell in line.

The only drag on the set came during one of my least favorite Duran songs of all time: the instrumental “Tiger Tiger.” For some reason, the band chose this song to introduce a momentum stopping Twitter interlude where attendees could tweet their thoughts to the band and the messages would appear on a screen behind them.

So essentially, we got to hear a brief intermission piece while people in the floor section (it was a bit fuzzy in the balcony seats) could read things like “Damn I look good tonight!” and “John is so HOTTT!!!” from their neighbors.

Thankfully, “Tiger Tiger” was the only setback (unless you encountered poor manners in the ladies room too) that I could find with Friday’s performance. If anything, Duran Duran demonstrated the right way to avoid the nostalgic trappings of a band that could easily fall into the hands of revival tours and state fair circuits. They’ve chosen to abridge their newer material with the best parts of their past making a seamless setlist of old and new.

Score one for Duran then, and while the crowd may need some work in order to match the band's perfect blend of nostalgia vs. modern chic, the first item a certain fan should follow is "If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweetie and wipe the seatie."

Setlist:

Before The Rain>Planet Earth
A View To A Kill
All You Need Is Now
Blame The Machines
Come Undone
Safe (In The Heat of the Moment)
The Reflex
The Man Who Stole A Leopard
Girl Panic
Is There Something I Should Know?
Tiger Tiger
Careless Memories
Leave A Light On
Ordinary World
Notorious
Hungry Like The Wolf
(Reach Up For The) Sunrise

(Encore)

Wild Boys>Relax
Rio

This review originally appeared in Glorious Noise

No Age - Everything In Between

2011-10-24T04:20:00.000-04:00

Age and nostalgia have nothing to do with it: what No Age does pales in comparison to what has been handed down before. Moreover, it was more rebellious, more dangerous, and it didn’t have the luxury of working in the wake of a few dozen pioneers benefiting from clever genre titles.

Speaking of: No Age’s third record is better than its tightly wound predecessor Nouns because it’s taking some risks at widening their noise-rock roots and putting those bits of distortion, scratches, and squawks into neat little boxes of verse-chorus-verse.

It’s a blast, for sure, particularly with the rapid-fire “Fever Dream,” a three and a half minute blast of Sonic Youth expressway with a chorus consisting of nothing more than guitar sirens.

“I want to steal everything from you” goes a line from the album closer “Clem Trails,” and No Age makes no secret of the blatant influences that abound in this record. The band lifts, steals, and plagiarizes to the point where I’m sure there are kids spinning this record today who are hearing it as groundbreaking stuff.

It’s not, but it is progress for these two and it’s good enough to encourage them and their muse to lift freely from the SST Superstore.

The hooks are loaded in front, and as Everything In Between proceeds ahead, the songs get noticeably more heady and intriguing.

Members Randy Randall and Dean Allen Spunt starts fucking around with guitar loops and shoegaze patterns on the instrumental “Dusted” before leading into another worthy vocal-less “Positive Amputation.” Over a slow piano, a wall of distorted guitar repeats four notes until a lengthy fade-out begins.

It’s off-shoots like these that give Everything In Between a nice start to finish feel. No Age clearly have seen that the key to their relevance is through longevity, and with noise-rock stomps clearly having a very limited self-life, the duo have begun focusing on making more than what their original formula allowed.

It’s less about “growing up” or “maturing” and more about coming to terms with the idea that there’s very little chaos left in merely replicating the noise of No Age’s forefathers

This review originally appeared in Glorious Noise.

No Age Documentary

2011-10-23T21:39:00.002-04:00

A bit of press that fell through the cracks last month.

"Renowned filmmaker/photographer Todd Cole and experimental art-punk duo No Age joined forces to create and document a unique performance for the band's "Inflorescence." Cole and No Age were paired as part of a series of creative collaborations fostered by the Levi's Film Workshop, a temporary creative film production facility housed inside the Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA), Los Angeles.

Todd Cole and No Age are LA-based creative pioneers. Cole is a filmmaker/photographer, whose work has been exhibited internationally at galleries, museums and festivals and featured in publications ranging from the New York Times to i-D. No Age is the duo of Dean Spunt and Randy Randall, they are on a constant journey to explore the furthest reaches of sound. They set out with one particular rule in mind: To write songs that we would be psyched to listen to. They have been been at the epicenter of the DIY art-punk scene in LA, now famously known as having its epicenter at The Smell, a clubhouse where art-life/music-life welded and inspired a creative movement and attitude which has fertilized a purple patch of likeminded punkers and artists around the globe.

The No Age performance took place inside the Film Workshop, marking the close of the Film Workshop and celebrating MOCA's "Art in the Streets" street art exhibition, a groundbreaking show that saw over 200,000 visitors, breaking all attendances records in the museum's history."

It's Discord And Rhyme

2011-10-22T21:23:00.004-04:00

I have to get out more often.

The band that opened for Duran Duran last night had a #13 Platinum single from last year.

I only noticed because some members of the crowd perked up when they played it, proving that singles evidently to get noticed by some people.

Neon Trees is a four piece with a touring guitarist that is on stage with them, while being noticeably behind the four actual members.

I often think that being a touring guitarist must be one of the more shittier jobs in the world of rock music. Somewhere between roadie and video producer.

Their music was good enough for me to at least check them out on Wikipedia, and it’s there when I first noticed.

That underneath all of that new wave hair gel and faux Mohawk of lead singer Tyler Glenn is a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I drew up this neat joke suggesting that they should team up with Edgar Winter before I realized that Edgar is into Scientology and not a Mormon.

You can check out their video to that aforementioned hit to see if you’re a fan, but musically I can only take too much sugar before my teeth hurt.

Plus the dude really went overboard with his Duran Duran worship.

The best moment was when Glenn was going on and on about how much the music of the 80’s meant to him, name-checking bands like The Cure, Duran Duran, The Smiths….until he was interrupted by a guy who screamed “Flock of Seagulls.”

“I heard that…” shot back Tyler, before prancing over to the other side of the stage.

There’s a full review of the Duran set still to come, but here are some observations:

• The women in attendance managed to drown down the band at some points, both in cheering and in singing. There were moments where they hurt my ears.
• Most couples consisted of women dragging their sorry-assed men to the show, a few reluctantly. The rest of the men actually knew a few Duran Duran songs and would dance a bit during the popular songs.
• There was one couple-the kind with the reluctant spouse who didn’t give a rat’s ass about the band-that sat in the aisle ahead of us. The gentlemen was an African-American in his mid-50’s, and it was painfully obvious that he was dragged kicking and screaming to the show. I kept making up bits of dialog in my head, pretending to be the voice of this man, usually involving a bit of dialogue like “Look at these dumbass English crackers with their lipstick and eyeliner.” The couple left before the set ended.
• The chick in her thirties next to my wife kept hitting m’lady with her butt. She didn’t like it while I certainly didn’t see the harm in it.
• The suggestion to hit the assailant back with a good old fashioned pillow fight back at our room in the Hyat didn’t go over too well.
• There was a dude in his fifties at the front of the stage who referred to himself as Beyonce when Simon put the microphone near his mug.
• Everyone stayed put for the most part during the new stuff, with a bit more noticeable smartphone activity until a more famous song showed up.
• A bunch of Duran fans turned into Republicans.
• Or maybe they were Reagan fans back in the day.
• My wife and I had a complete role reversal than the rest of the couples in the crowd. While most wives dragged their husbands to the festivities, I dragged my wife.
• After the show, my wife was overheard stating “I didn’t know they did “Ordinary World.’”
• They added Frankie Goes To Hollywood’s “Relax” in the middle of “Wild Boys.”
• Fans in the crowd did the repeats at the end of “the figureheads have fell, fell, fell” just like the song.
• The Best Song they did was “Leopard” off the new one.

Happy Birthday, Madonna's Sex Book!

2011-10-21T11:34:00.003-04:00

Madonna’s book Sex was released on this day in 1992.

My girlfriend at the time bought a used copy of it. The $50 price tag was heavy on our radio “personalities,” but I’m guessing that nowadays, that $50 investment must be worth something in the form of a sealed copy.

Not that we would have left it sealed. The idea of nude pictures of Madonna would have been exciting for both of us.

I may have indeed teased her about the idea of a “book” by Madonna, and the ammunition of having Vanilla Ice in the book was positively deadly.

He was well beyond his shelf-life by that point while Madonna was rejuvenating her career for the third time.

It’s hard to believe that this type of nonsense was considered controversial back then. Then again, now that I’m a parent I can see the restrictive point of view quite clearly. Just a few days ago, I was scolded for channel surfing and stopping on Tosh.0 in front of the children.

Meanwhile, an open copy of Sex lay on the coffee table.

Even though that old girlfriend kept her copy of Sex after we split, it doesn’t mean that I haven’t looked for another copy for myself on eBay.

It’d be a hoot to gander through that book now.

And it’d be scary to consider that the people in those images now have a couple of decades added to their flesh.

Mouth Bleeding...Pants Unbuttoned

2011-10-20T11:24:00.001-04:00

Here's a letter I wrote at work today.

The incident and the people involved are totally fictional.

I'm not easily riled at work, but sometimes people deserve a little bit of insanity for the way they treat other people who are trying to help them.

And then there are people who show up in the news for something stupid they did while drunk.

For that, I'm happy to share the incident with their parents in the form of a letter.

It's worth the 44 cents.

George XXXX
XXX N. Governor St
Iowa City, IA 52245

James A XXXXX
XXXXX Mayher Dr.
Orland Park, IL 60467

Mr. XXXXX:

Last week,your son James kept hitting me about the face, intensely intoxicated, and would not provide me with any reason of why he was using violence against me. He would swear at me right before using a closed fist to strike me. Two teeth came out after it was all over; my dentist will replace them with artificial ones, but I would just like to know why he beat me.

I’ve never met your son before. Why does he hate me so? Why did he hit me? What have I ever done to him?

I couldn’t leave my home for three days. I was an emotional wreck. The headaches passed after the fourth day, but the mental trauma is too deep to leave me. I keep thinking he’s watching out for me behind the tree, ready to pounce.

For a moment as he was hitting me, I could see in his eyes that he would have continued to punish me had he not gotten up and ran back into a local tavern. I gathered my things that I dropped after the first punch knocked me down and went home. I put my broken teeth in my pocket in case the dentist needed them.

Please, make him come home so that I can walk the streets of my town without fear of his vicious retribution against me. I don’t even know him, but I’m sure he will strike again, lashing out at me for God knows what. I’m dreadfully frightened and I’m sure my next beating will be more severe.

I just don’t understand why this young man has chosen me as his victim.

I pray that he will stop punching me. I fear my heart will stop after his next attack.

Any help you can provide would be appreciated.

Sincerely,

George XXXX

Whatever, Nevermind

2011-10-19T11:11:00.005-04:00

I dragged my ass writing this piece.

Each attempt ended in some cynical bit that tried to wash over how vital Nevermind was or it ended in some finger-pointing accusation, like it was the album’s fault that modern rock music doesn’t feel like it’s moved much from the record’s birth two decades ago.

And twenty-years ago feels like forever ago-you twenty-something will know this quicker than you think.

Everything seemed so black and white back then. You had those songs that you and your friends liked and then there were those songs that everyone else liked. The two never seemed to cross each other very much.

You heard songs on the radio and you understood that they were designed this way. The “design” was that there had to be some kind of pay-to-play provision to even get these songs on the radio. What else could be the reason why a song like Timmy T’s “One More Try” ended up at the top of the charts.

Surely, no one really bought these singles, did they?

For anyone who was noticing back then, you could see these “rules” change in the weeks following the release of Nevermind, and it’s an even that will probably never happen again in today’s fragmented and insolated musical platforms.

But I remember a time-perhaps naively-when it seemed like we won.

I don’t trust anyone who claims that they knew Nirvana would be huge after hearing Bleach. From what I remember after hearing it was how much more I liked Mudhoney.

I didn’t necessarily hate Bleach when it arrived at our university’s radio station, I just liked a bunch more records instead of it and my playlist during my evening shift at the station reflected it.

A couple of years later, the liberal playlist of the university station was traded for my first real full time job in the industry: a small-market top 40 station A half-year into the gig, I was promoted to the position of Music Director and given a raise of a dime an hour. I was told to mirror the charts of Radio & Records magazine, a trade publication and mirror our playlist of it. The guideline was that 10 of the songs should be from the top 10 of the A.O.R. charts, another 10 should be from the Top 40 charts, and the remaining 10 should come from the adult contemporary charts.

Since I was the station’s Music Director for only a few months, I followed the instructions pretty religiously I was more concerned with keeping that extra dime an hour than trying to lobby for up-and-coming hits that I personally liked.

Besides, there wasn’t a lot of appeal in my choices anyway.

One of the best parts of the position was that I was able to take a bunch of the promotional albums that we didn’t use and I’d trade them in for stuff that I wanted for myself.

About once a month, I’d take a bunch of stuff from the station and drive up to Iowa City to trade them in. I’d buy one disc for the station’s library to make it look legitimate, but make no mistake about it: these trips were designed primarily to fill out my own collection.

“Have you heard the new Nirvana album?” asked the record storeowner during a visit in September 1991.

Thanks to my experience with Bleach, I gave an ambivalent response.

That mood changed he put Nevermind into the store’s cd player. The opening chords-F.B.A.D.-a clever lift of Boston’s “More Than A Feeling.”

By the end of “In Bloom,” my copy had already been secured.

In my excitement, I immediately played Nevermind for my girlfriend. I was disappointed that she didn’t see the brilliance of it immediately out of the shrink-wrap. Instead, her first reaction was to comment on the album artwork.

“That’s not very nice to his fans!” she declared after staring at one of the sleeve photographs.

It was the picture of the band, out of focus, with Kurt giving the lenses a middle finger.

She felt that his pose was a slight to potential fans, an additional “Fuck you!” to the demand “Here we are now, entertain us.”

Personally, I thought it was awesomely appropriate.

I played it for a friend at work and within days he brought his copy to work.

“That hidden track at the end is awesome!” he told me.

“What hidden track?” I asked.

My friend instructed me to wait a few minutes after “Something In The Way” and a hidden track would begin playing.

I did as instructed, but after the last song on my copy played, my cd player stopped.

There was no “secret track” on my disc.

I used a contact in my Rolodex at work to make a quick call to Geffen Records. My promotional representative revealed that about 50,000 copies of Nevermind were initially shipped without the “secret“ song, “Endless, Nameless.”

That meant my copy was one of the initial pressings while my co-worker’s copy was the one released after the first pressing ran out.

Sure, my copy was a little rarer, but I was bummed that I didn’t get “Endless, Nameless.”

My friend was right: it was awesome.

The Geffen contact also advised that “Smells Like Teen Spirit” would be released to Top 40 the following week.

By this time, MTV had some videos under a “Buzz Bin” distinction. Essentially, it was a select few videos that they began airing outside of their regular rotation, a spotlight of bands and songs starting to gain traction with the mainstream. It seemed that my little discovery was everyone’s little discovery, and most of those listeners who were quite content with what the mainstream was providing them were suddenly getting hip to this awesome anthem for the disenfranchised underground.

It transcended those early supporters, not so much because of the glossy Andy Wallace mix, but on the merits of the song’s power itself. Yet beyond this, I still didn’t think that it would be enough to pull the same audience that our own radio station catered to.

“Wouldn’t it be crazy if we added “Teen Spirit” to our playlist?” my friend suggested one day at work. I’d just gotten the “radio edit” of the song as my promotional guy warned me about.

For whatever reason, I never imagined that “Teen Spirit” would go beyond a Buzz Bin distinction, with a few daring rock stations adding it to their playlist. I thought that the song would be well received in larger markets, and I was envious that we couldn’t be a bit looser with our playlist.

At my station, the question “Will it play in Peoria?” was a legitimate one. And the last time I checked, Warrant just had a sold out show at an arena in Peoria.

The song leaped up the charts with the full-length not far behind in its trajectory.

I now had plenty of ammunition to add “Smells Like Teen Spirit” in case my Program Director questioned my decision. To be safe, I rigged it so that the song only played after 5:00 p.m.

In radio, they called this trick “lunar rotation.”

But we began receiving requests for “Teen Spirit” even during the waking hours, proving once again that the song was speaking more to just kids and young adults. It was turning into one of those generational touchstones, the kind that I’d read about in old Baby Boomer reviews and testimonials.

I was witnessing our generation’s own “Like A Rolling Stone,” “I Want To Hold Your Hand, and “Satisfaction.” There were moments before this when I considered such a modern equivalent existed, but nothing a definitive as Nirvana’s “Teen Spirit” and Nevermind.

Cobain, through one selfish act managed to call that assuredness into question somewhat, but I think now that it merely rattled my faith in rock music than diminished the power that Nevermind has. By questioning the merit of that album, I was-in some weird passive/aggressive manner-trying to distract the admission that I related so much to Nevermind, as did a bunch of people who I probably not share much else in common with.

And by pretending to ignore this record’s importance was in itself a defense mechanism that tried to somehow erase the fact that Cobain’s death profoundly impacted me.

That’s a discussion for another time.

I will admit that, prior to his death, I attempted to collect as much as I could Nirvana related. My faith presented every import and rarity as something I needed to collect.

After his death, those purchases stopped-as did listening to Nirvana’s music. Aside from the occasional radio moments, I haven’t listened to Nirvana in quite some time. If it’s the 20th Anniversary of Nevermind, my guess is that it’s probably been at least 15 years since I listened to the album in its entirety.

I have no plans to acquire the newly minted deluxe editions that are being released in the same manner of major label greed that I’m certain Cobain detested. But that’s my decision, and I have no beef with anyone who wants to pursue this new packaging.

For many years, I wondered about the band’s Madison sessions. I wondered if there was anything to Andy Wallace’s extra sugar, or if it was all some kind of half-hearted attempt by Cobain to shift the blame on why all of those mainstream carpetbaggers suddenly found a connection with mantras like “I swear that I don’t have a gun.”

Yeah, I was curious. But not to the point where I felt that I needed to re-purchase Nevermind to get a glimpse behind the scenes. The was the end result-the same record that I bought twenty years ago this month-that changed my life back then.

I can’t expect that anything in addition to that record will change my mind, and I doubt if a re-issue, or any record for that matter, will be able to replace those original feelings.

Such a task is impossible today. And judging by the gamut of emotions that Nevermind has given me over the past two decades, I’m not so sure that I want a record to impact me in the same way ever again.

Nevermind Nirvana: The 10th Anniversary of The Strokes' Is This It?

2011-10-18T08:11:00.000-04:00

To rock and roll scribes, the 20th anniversary of Nirvana’s Nevermind has prompted a whirlwind of musings about the record over the past few months, present company included.

And while many writers reveled in the sheer nostalgia of the event, many of them seem too young to fully grasp the impact that Nevermind had on music upon its original release. It’s not that their thoughts aren’t warranted or worthy of your eyes, it’s just that most generations tend to look for their own cornerstones, and I began thinking about which albums released during their time of influence would be counted as vital documents of a younger cultural shift.

So get off my lawn, you kids, and let me return the favor with my own thoughts on which album you should replace Nevermind with.

One of the first albums that came to mind was Neutral Milk Hotel’s In The Aeroplane Over The Sea, Jeff Mangum’s frequently acknowledged classic concerning something about Anne Frank. I must confess, however, that I don’t really understand how or why this record has found its way into so many hearts.

While I would be more than willing to grant this album a five-star review based on its original arrangements and provocative attention bestowed on it, I wouldn’t go as far as to admit that it was immediately recognized as a record who’s influence was so great that it managed to change the course of rock music, even a smudge.

Its subject matter was too historic, its words too academic, and its music too obscure to really grab hold for a country of young musicians to follow the path that it laid out. Hell, even the name of the band screams equal parts inside-joke and pretentious word-play.

OK Computer by Radiohead is sited frequently, but at its core the record is another off-shoot of previous records from other artists in rock’s storied history. As much as I love OK Computer, I feel like spinning Wish You Were Here afterwards, simply because its lineage mirrors the very same classic rock albums that I grew up with.

Plus, it was released not very long after Nevermind, so maybe today’s young adults think of Radiohead in the same terms as I thought of Pink Floyd.
If it were up to me, I would choose a record that is also celebrating a notably anniversary this year: The Strokes Is This It?

The caveat I begin with is that in no way am I comparing The Strokes one-and as of this writing, only-masterstroke with Nirvana’s clarion call. As many scribes have correctly pointed out, Nevermind may be the last record that was album to change the course of rock music because it was the last record that was able to utilize the old-school paradigm.

And since radio has become an irrelevant delivery system, dead from the moment it was purchased by Clear Channel and homogenized from a home office thousands of miles away from its city of license.

And since MTV 86’d music content for Snooki, making all of those Teen Spirit cheerleaders that appeared in the video a relic to their generation only.

And since record labels viewed their customers as the enemies and chose to fight for the same level of profit that they’d always gotten from huge mark-ups.

And since all of these events happened, that old school paradigm is no longer gospel, making it impossible for any act to achieve the same kind of success that Nirvana experience, thereby eliminating any possibility for an event like Nevermind to take place again.

But for a moment in 2001, it looked as though The Strokes may be on to something.
A decade later, we’re still waiting for that confirming follow up, and based on the lackluster albums they released since that time, it doesn’t appear that the band is capable of living up to its original promise.

I would contend that, because of this, even the appeal of Is This It? Has suffered somewhat. We no longer view the record with the same enthusiasm as before, but does that make its impact less worthy?

Hardly. Whether your opinion of The Strokes or Is This It? Is enthusiastic or unfavorable, there’s little in denying that-for a brief moment-the band prompted an influx of like-minded bands or blatant rip-offs, all using the Velvet’s “What Goes On” rhythms underneath a bratty vocalist who wants little more than to get to your apartment.

Bratty is how we like our New Yorkers. Plus, we’d heard little from NYC rock unit for the better part of two decades before The Strokes turned their tiny rehearsal space into the archetypal Butch Vig sound of the new millennium.

And yeah, that sound was sorta important because by 2001, you could buy enough software for your laptop to make your own demos sound like they were done at Smart Studios. Is This It? Reminded us that even upper Middle Class brats needed to rehearse, and you can’t feign rock and roll legitimacy on looks alone.

Naysayers, I know you’re gonna tell me “That’s the problem!” that this band was created on hype alone. For me though-as someone who noticed The Strokes because of said hype-I’d suggest that it was authentic-at least in the beginning, because nowadays, I’m not sure if The Strokes have delivered enough to warrant that Spin cover shot, or even the lead review in your favorite mag.

But a decade ago, I can’t tell you how pleased I was with that first single, with the Capital mid-60’s swirl label and-more importantly-the 3 songs featured within short player. It sounded like the torch that the Velvets passed on to Television were finally getting passed on to the new millennium.

Finally! A new guitar rock band from N.Y.C. that I could feel good about while feeling all warm and fuzzy from those familiar guitar tones and Big Apple attitude.

The fact that they couldn’t keep it up with each subsequent release doesn’t make the debut shine less brightly, and the fact that-since we’re feeling all teary-eyed and retrospective this month, let’s not forget The Strokes’ anniversary for an album that briefly hinted that another cultural shift was getting ready to take place.

New Stooges Book Released: Head On-A Journey Through The Michigan Underground

2011-10-17T07:50:00.000-04:00

There's a newly available American edition of The Stooges: Head On biography that's available in the U.S. after originally only being released in 2007 in the U.K.

Hopefully, there's an entire section completely devoted to why the band went from a trilogy of must-have records to a band with three must-have records and one ill-conceived reunion album produced by someone (ahem, Steve Albini) who should have known better.

The good news is that Scott Ashton participated for the update.

The bad news is that Scott Ashton only previous discussion was to try to convince Iggy how much his name sounded like "Rock Action."

Here's the press release:

The Stooges: Head On-A Journey Through the Michigan Underground

Written by Brett Callwood

Foreword by Alice Cooper

Afterword by Glenn Danzig

Published by Wayne State University Press

Size: 6 x 9, Pages: 200, Illustrations: 14

"With each 'Stooge' getting close to equal billing, Callwood's research results in a thorough exploration-and explanation-of the band's seismic importance to the
Detroit music scene. Interesting, amusing, and engaging, The Stooges: Head On will enlighten even the biggest Stooges fan. -TL, Rhythm

"The drugs! The debauchery! The decadence! The wild-man performances from Iggy Pop, a man with a taste for peanut butter-not to eat, but to smear on his chest-and broken glass, which he likewise worked into his flesh while on stage. It's all here in Brett Callwood's exhaustive account of the rise and demise of the Stooges, the Michigan band who effectively invented punk rock." -David Cheal, Telegraph

"It's a good book. I thank you for writing it." - Iggy Pop

If the MC5 were Detroit's political spokesmen for the disenchanted youth of the 1960s, then the Stooges were the loutish kids, heckling from the back of the room. While conventional wisdom says they could barely play their instruments, the Stooges left an indelible mark on the world of punk rock, and the band's initial three albums-The Stooges, Fun House and Raw Power-are bona fide classics. In The Stooges: Head On author Brett Callwood treats the band's story not just as an early chapter in the career of its famous front man, Iggy Pop, but from the Stooges' beginnings at the end of the 1960s, to its end in the early 1970s, and to its reunion in 2003 through the present.

"Writing a Stooges biography was a no-brainer for me," Callwood states. "My first book is about the MC5 and in researching that while still living in London, I had traveled to Detroit / Ann Arbor and fallen in love with the whole area and its music. I had made many friends and established many contacts that were and are associated with both the MC5 and the Stooges, so that made the process easier to get started. Also, when I wrote this book there wasn't a decent Stooges book on the shelves. There are a lot of Iggy books out there, but mine is the first full Stooges biography."

In compiling this exhaustive account of the band's history, Callwood interviewed all of the central and sometimes Stooges members, including Iggy Pop, Ron and Scott Asheton, James Williamson, Mike Watt, Steve Mackay, and Scott Thurston, and largely lets the band tell its own story in numerous long quotes. Callwood details the band's genesis as teenage friends in Ann Arbor, their time living together in their legendary party houses in the 1960s, and the recording of the three original Stooges albums. He examines the addition of James Williamson to the band on Raw Power and how it changed the band's sound and dynamic, along with the band's fateful meeting with David Bowie on its first British tour.

As Iggy broke out as a solo artist during the 1970s and 1980s, Callwood charts the Asheton brothers' post-Stooges experiences, with Ron's turns in The New Order, Destroy All Monsters, and Dark Carnival, and Scott Asheton's time with the Farleys and Sonic's Rendezvous Band. He also provides an overview of Iggy's solo career, the seeds of a reunion that were planted with a collaboration on Iggy's Skull Ring album, and the eventual reformation of the band and the recording of their fourth album, The Weirdness, in 2007.

Originally published in the U.K. in 2007, The Stooges: Head On has been revised to expand on the original story and also to consider Ron Asheton's untimely death in 2009 and his musical legacy, the band's fate without Ron, and the Stooges' long-overdue introduction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2010.

"Scott didn't want to talk at all for the first edition... He rarely does interviews," said Callwood. "However, after his brother passed away and I was writing for this American edition, he talked to me and really opened up. It was a very moving, humbling experience."

Wayne State University Press is a distinctive urban publisher committed to supporting its parent institution's core research, teaching, and service mission by generating high quality scholarly and general interest works of global importance. Through its publishing program, the Press disseminates research, advances education, and serves the local community while expanding the international reputation of the Press and the University.

The Flaming Lips - I Found A Star On The Ground

2011-10-16T18:05:00.004-04:00

For several weeks, I’ve been following a plethora of Lip tweets-primarily Wayne and Stephen’s tweets-concerning a song they’d composed that goes on for hours.

If you haven’t heard, the release schedule of the Flaming Lips circa 2011 is riddled with strange packaging and uninspired noodlings and pairings with like-minded psychedelic purveyors that neither inspire or do much justice to the Lips impressively good catalog.

The idea started as a 24 hour song-which I guess is still underway-and then it got whittled down to a 6 hour song for reasons only know to the band.

It was tweeted that they were having a bunch of trouble with the computers used to tweak and store all of this hard drive data, which should have surfaced as a digital warning that the band should just trash the entire idea as a pointless publicity stunt.

I mean, why not just focus another Skeleton walk for Halloween (which was cancelled this year, btw) and call it good?

On the surface, the six hour song-also know as “”Found A Star On The Ground”-sounds like a test of endurance-for both the creator and the listener. The illusion of four musicians sweating and aching over their craft, the shout “I’ve got blisters on my fingers!” comes to mind, but can you be really sure that meticulous performances and countless takes are nothing more than the point and click of a mouse-duplicating each rhythmic measure into endless loops?

You cannot, particularly with the Lips’ history of using tapes during live performances.

But I must confess that the song-barely available as a legitimate release and posted in three different segments via Soundcloud, is amazingly listenable.

Sure, “Found A Star On The Ground” is nothing more than a Steven Drozd piece looped ad infinitum for a few hours with a bunch of added bits and pieces added over the continuing patterns. It’s a work tape of meandering weirdness with moments of creative inspiration. It’s probably best under the influence, and there’s nothing that can save it from the weight of it’s own girth. But as far as pointless promotional drivel is concerned, wouldn’t you want to waste an entire day under the direction of the Flaming Lips?

The downside is that this once-a-month project that Wayne Coyne has conjured up is confusing epic motions with lasting worth. An occasional foray into the bizarre record industry is fine and it’s something that makes the case for the Lips place in rock history. But to overdo them only manages to place their impressive catalog into the realm of the ridiculous. It shortchanges what is an otherwise impressive history, with more than a handful of efforts rubbing shoulders with the title “masterpiece.” And by dumping out a quarter-days worth of music just for the sake of doing it, you’re only managing to shortchange the legitimately awesome albums the Lips have created.

Below is the massive release in its entirety thanks to the awesome Lips fan site, Slow Nerve Action.

The Flaming Lips - Found a Star on the Ground [Part One of Three] by Slow•Nerve•Action 3
The Flaming Lips - Found a Star on the Ground [Part Two of Three] by Slow•Nerve•Action 2
The Flaming Lips - Found a Star on the Ground [Part Three of Three] by Slow•Nerve•Action

George Harrison: Living In The Material World

2011-10-15T18:26:00.001-04:00

Nobody can question Martin Scorsese’s body of work, but there is growing evidence that his documentary work-specifically the films devoted to his generation’s pipers-is growing increasingly celebratory and decreasingly informative.

The word “forgettable” did not apply to a Scorsese film, but that is a good adjective for his last effort, Shine A Light, a late career concert documentary on The Rolling Stones. Shine A Light is not a very good indicator of how good the Stones were as a live unit, and it does not show them as anything but aging dinosaurs whose better days were well behind them.

He returns with Living In The Material World, nearly four hours of archival material pieced together to give us insight on this complex artist. The effort is deserved, as Harrison has probably been the most private of the members of The Beatles, with even his autobiography I Me Mine reading as a cherry-picked collection of memories that provide a basic overview of his life while not seeming overly concerned with digging too deep into touchy subjects.

Living In The Material World is no exception. Whether it is Scorsese’s own strategy or producer/spouse Olivia Harrison’s instructions to avoid controversial topics, the movie serves as a basic introduction to George while passing over his musical output with a vague eye.

You hear very little on the conflict between George and the rest of the Beatles, other than the common knowledge that his allotment of one song an album was beginning to be questioned.

Conversely, so little time is spent on his solo work the fact that after Harrison’s only post-Beatle masterpiece All Things Must Pass that there is little evidence to suggest that he had much to offer the music market after that record anyway.

Could it be that the dominance of Lennon/McCartney creativity during the Beatles prompted Harrison to work that much harder at his own craft and without it, he’d gotten lazy?

While I don’t expect a documentary to completely rail on the subject-particularly when the family is participating in its development-I do expect that it should be a fair representation of the subject.

Let’s be honest: I’m hard pressed to come up with an album’s worth of good George Harrison songs after All Things Must Pass and, to that point, even Scorsese agrees based on the song material he includes on this documentary. There is very little post-All Things Must Pass music underneath the endless praising and personal antidotes.

Even during the film’s first half, so much time is spent on explaining Stu Sutcliff’s role in the Beatle’s early development that you wonder, “Who is this documentary about?”

Added to this, the film spends an inordinate amount of time on John Lennon that you begin to wonder if Lennon’s own criticism of I Me Mine right before his murder made an impact on George’s life, to the point where the film goes out of its way on making sure John gets the proper credit.

And all of this makes you wonder if we really need four hours to tell the story of George Harrison.

Is, perhaps, the reason we knew so little about “the quiet Beatle” is because his first role was his finest? His comfort level and talents were best matched as the silent counter-balance to John and Paul and, without them, he began to notice the limitations of his own talents?

We’ll never know, particularly if Living In The Material World claims to be the definitive overview of George Harrison.

There’s a sticky feeling to it too, as we learn why Harrison felt such a connection to the Hindu religion, but we get little insight to the suggestion that Harrison was far from being the idealistic beacon that the film likes to hint at.

His friendship with Eric Clapton is given ample airtime, but very little is spent on the dynamic of Clapton’s approach to George’s first wife, Pattie, other than to describe the infidelity as nothing more than an off-shoot of the “freedom” within swinging London.

There is a bit of candid information at the end of Living In The Material World, when the severities of Harrison’s wounds resulting from the attack made on his life when an intruder stabbed him on New Year’s Eve, 1999.

Apparently, George was close to death after the attack and he is extremely lucky that his wife Olivia was there to beat the shit out of the assailant with a nearby fireplace poker.

All of this came after Harrison was undergoing cancer treatment, and there is a bit of suggestion that the attack also contributed to George’s health deteriorating, just before another cancerous growth was discovered.

The growth led to the Harrison camp getting involved with Dr Gil Lederman and his controversial cancer treatments in Staten Island. While there, Lederman managed to break the traditional doctor/patient role when the “good doctor” took Harrison’s frail hand to initiate a barely conscious autograph.

I use this story from the last days of Harrison’s life as an example. This may not have been the most glowing story of George’s life, but it was part of it and it serves as a perfect example of why Harrison shied away from the limelight that his career created. Even while he was dying, Harrison was forced to deal with fame when his primary focus should have been with his health.

It was a well-known story, but Scorsese leaves it for us to discover. And it makes us consider “How many other stories did Martin Scorsese leave out for the sake of making nice with the Harrison estate or for the sake of making his subject matter more like a deity?”

Kim And Thurston Break Up!

2011-10-14T22:00:00.000-04:00

There is a good article over at Spin.com, or at least as good as it gets when you read the news that Kim and Thurston are breaking up.

Ok, technically they’ve separated, but isn’t that always the precursor to the more-popular act of divorce, in this case the ubiquitous alterna-couple that have become the shining example for everyone else that cool people can still find each other, marry, have cool kids and live in a bizarre Ward and June Cleaver world of hipster middle age.

Serious, they were role models that made such an antiquated act seem kinda cool, an adjective for any example of a cool couple that weds.

They always seemed like two, strong-willed people who made room for each other both out of respect and out of a deeper connection (i.e. love). What a bummer if that wasn’t a little bit true, and what a bigger bummer if we’ve seen the end of Kim and Thurston as it related to a singular concept: a husband/wife team that-for at least seventeen years-was the epitome of being a role model for marriage.

And now that distinction falls on Iowa’s own Dave and Barb from House of Large Sizes.

Are You Ready For Some Rednecks?

2011-10-04T21:01:00.006-04:00

Hank Williams Jr. is harmless.

Yet his insensitive comments have triggered the 24 hour news cycle outlets into a frenzy of commentary, causing Bocephus’ camp to release a statement that make him look more like a big pussy than a Southern redneck.

Seriously.

This appearance would have done no damage to his fan base and the story would have been forgotten before Wednesday.

And well it should be. It’s Hank Williams Jr., after all.

The motherfucker took a face plant off a mountain over thirty-five years ago. It’s taken people that long to figure out that he doesn’t have brains left to know what he’s doing?!

Wait, let me clarify. He’s got enough sense to parlay an entire career off of his old man’s legacy-remember, he started out doing his daddy’s music like some kind of impersonator-until he used his own tragedy to transform himself into some kind of rebel-rousing Southern rock icon.

Nothing wrong with that, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that anyone should give two shits about what Hank Williams Jr. thinks about Obama.

If you were to ask me that question a day before his appearance on Fox & Friends, I would have guessed, “He probably doesn’t like him.”

But no. The planet is outraged and even the hosts of Fox & Friends look startled than Hank Fucking Williams Jr. said something completely stupid.

Have you fucking heard any one of his songs?!

True story: I used to work at a country radio station, one that featured a transplant Program Director who wanted to transform the station’s format into a playlist that more ladies could relate to.

In other words, it became this boring, almost adult contemporary station that played a lot of Kenny Rogers and very little real country.

I pressed him once after looking at a copy of Radio & Records, a trade magazine that every small-market radio station seemed to view as “The Bible,” after taking a look at the nationwide country music radio chart.

I noticed there were huge gaps in what we were playing versus what was on the country charts.

I also noticed this during my Sunday afternoon playlist where I spent the entire afternoon simply playing the Weekly Country Music Countdown show.

“That Hank Williams Jr. song is a big hit elsewhere. How come we don’t play it?” I asked.

“We’re trying to appeal to more women.” He explained before bluntly adding “And women don’t like that stupid redneck shit!”

From then on, Hank Williams Jr. was labeled as “stupid redneck shit” until I understood that there was a place for stupid redneck shit every so often, particularly if you’re a heavy metal band that’s trying to do something “ironic.”

And then Kid Rock came along and made Boshephus uncool again.

So no, I wasn’t shocked by anything that Hank Jr. said and I wasn’t surprised either.

ESPN acted like they were; they promptly removed him from the Monday Night Football promotional introduction which had millions of sports fans like myself yelling “It’s about time! That song is as overplayed as Bob Seger’s “Like A Rock” was when that piece of shit was used for Chevy truck commercials.

Realizing that Monday night football provides him with enough royalties and paychecks to knock off at least an entire half-year of casino dates, Hank Jr. grovels like a little Republican bitch trying to make it all go away.

My bet is that they have made enough of the "Are you ready for some football!" promotional bumpers that Hank Jr. will be back next week.

And our country’s news outlets will by then be focusing their lenses and microphones on the next dumbass.

To quote his son, Hank III "Most musicians aren't worthy of a political discussion."

The 2011 Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Nominees

2011-09-29T00:40:00.003-04:00

It’s an annual pastime-when the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame nominees are announced and then we all bitch about them and whine how our favorites aren’t included.

When will people understand that the RARHOF is merely a short list popularity contest that’s narrowed down further by a handful of rich dudes who ultimately answer to one Jann Wenner.

But Jann can be and has been overruled. How can you explain the Dave Clark Five’s admission into the hall. So maybe the Kiss and Rush fans can take a look at DC5’s lobbying committee to find out a plan for their success.

Make it quick because I’m tired of hearing you guys whine.

And it’s not that I’m down with their admission.

They both deserve to be in the Hall of Fame for sure.

It’s just that as long as you understand that the RARHOF is not a democracy and is not based on either commercial or critical merit, you will be disappointed on a yearly basis that these chuckleheads are completely out of touch with reality or logic.

It’s merely a good old boys club in the truest sense of the word.

So I’m changing it to merely add an opinion to the nominations and hope that someday the RARHOF will get their head out of their ass.

Joan Jett
“Cherry Bomb” is the number one song on my playlist according to last.fm, but you won’t find me lobbying for them to be included instead of solo Joan Jett. They weren’t very good and “Cherry Bomb” finds itself as the most played song only because my daughter would request it incessantly. Joan’s album output is choppy, but you cannot comprehend how popular “I Love Rock & Roll” was unless you were there in the summer of 1980 hearing it played every hour on nearly every other radio station. It was a song so epic that Jett gets a pass on getting into the Hall on her first attempt.

Rufus with Chaka Khan
Here’s where the guidelines at the Hall need to be addressed. Do we allow other genres other than rock gain entrance or do we allow some artists that may have influenced rock instead of actually being a part of the genre itself. Think deeply, because that may mean that Prince or Sly Stone wouldn’t get inclusion even though there awesome. And so is Rufus with Chaka Khan, but are they rock?.

Laura Nyro
When you have supporters like David Geffen and Clive Davis, you’re a shoo-in to the RARHOF.

Donna Summer
Love Donna Summer, but she isn’t rock and roll-even if you’re trying to make the case with Bad Girls.

Heart
They deserve to be first year nominees, but probably won’t get in on their first try simply because Wenner and company viewed them as Zeppelin followers (which they were and were quite good at it) with a pair of ladies for marketing appeal. Whatever. Little Queen is a classic and even that first record is considered a classic by some. If you overlook the band’s lame MTV period, those first few albums should seal their entrance. In a perfect world, at least.

Guns ‘N Roses
Holy shit, are they up?! Man I feel old! Aside from it being way too early, GnR will get first nomination acceptance into the Hall on the sheer fact that Appetite is one of those albums that changed the landscape of music. By prolonging the inevitable, there might have been a better chance of the original line-up getting on stage again.

Red Hot Chili Peppers
I followed the Chili Peppers up until Blood Sugar Sex Magic. I couldn’t tell you if any of their other stuff afterwards is any good. Up to that album, the Chili Peppers were a pretty good band-Uplift Mofo Party Plan was the shit in college-but I wouldn’t go so far as to say they were a great band. That would have been Fishbone. Let’s put them in first before we start talking about RHCP.

The Cure
Got to be in. Do you know how important this band is to the legion of eyeliners? Plus their early shit and mid-to-late 80’s shit is awesome. Sure, in a perfect world it’d go Roxy Music, Joy Division, Siouxsie and the Banshees, then the Cure, but my generation will take any scraps that Jann Wenner throws to us.

Eric B. & RakimI
know nothing beyond Paid In Full. Does Rap music belong in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame? For some reason, I have no problem with Run-DMC and Public Enemy being in there. De La Soul too.

Beastie Boys
Wow. Do the Beasties get a pass? Is it racist to think Beasties “Yes” and Eric B. & Rakim “No?” I’m inclined to say let them in based on the fact that a lot of rock ‘n roll knuckle draggers played Licensed To Ill out the wazoo. I hated them for that album. Then I fell in love with them for Paul’s Boutique. And Paul’s Boutique is so good that it almost makes the argument for automatic inclusion. True story: I got confirmed last week and in our little speeches in front of the Bishop, a lady about my age began her speech with “As the Three Wisemen…the Beastie Boys…once said” and then quoted a lyric from them. Kinda cool.

The Spinners
The Spinners were the first concert I ever went to. The brought out big rubber bands for “Rubberband Man” and had a huge Leslie rotating speaker that tripped out my 10-year-old mind. It was at Six Flags and I’m sure my parents used the event as a rest period. I would have preferred going on the Screamin’ Eagle again and I’m not sold that The Spinners belong in the RARHOF.

Small Faces/Faces
Sure. Might as well put Humble Pie up there too. Seriously.

War
I don’t know what to say about War. Why Can’t We Be Friends is a perfectly fine album and I have no complaints about their work with Eric Burdon. I would be happier with The Animals’ inclusion instead of War. Just sayin’…

Donovan
I’m not good at this one thanks to a strong dislike of Donovan. Recommend some records to examine if you think I’m missing the boat. Otherwise, I’ll continue to view Donovan as a Dylan wanna-be who grew into a more psychedelic artist, responsible for the atrocious “Atlantis.” To be fair, I do enjoy a few songs, but I wouldn’t consider them HOF material.

Freddy King
Again, no issue with Freddy King-but I wish they had specific criteria that explains how roots stars are eligible. Even then, you have to ask “Is Freddy King on the same level of Robert Johnson, Howlin’ Wolf, Muddy Waters, etc-those blues acts that were automatically included based on their role in the development of the rock genre. I don’t think Freddy-or any of the “Three Kings” qualifies for this, even though they may have been influential to some rock artists.

Wilco - The Whole Love

2011-09-28T23:49:00.004-04:00

I was so impressed with Yankee Hotel Foxtrot that I bought my Dad a copy for Christmas that year.

He asked me “So what’s good that’s new music?” which is a question he asks regularly, to the point where I offer up something that I absolutely know he’ll like.

It wasn’t that way with Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.

I wasn’t entirely sure that he would like it.

And that’s what made the record so good: there were enough weird moments, off-putting sounds, and challenging topics to make the album something you needed to spend time with.

And time is a very precious commodity with my Dad.

I never heard a word about what he thought about the album, which means that it was probably too timid to devote any time with it.

Virtually every album since then would probably be more to his liking, while each one of those very same albums would become increasingly more pedestrian in my ears.

The Whole Love shows Wilco fans that a post-Bennett masterpiece is possible and goddamn if Tweety and company don’t get as close to a ball-hair to gain that very distinction.

And part of it is that The Whole Love sounds like a record that either compliments Tweety’s dominance or pressured for more of a partnership with him. The band sounds relaxed, playful and complimentary. Guitar interplay starts from nowhere, the rhythm section sounds more assured, and Tweety himself is in top form lyrically with phrases that shock, humor, and impress.

The difference between Y.H.F. and The Whole Love is how much the new album incorporates everything for the past decade proudly on its sleeve. It also doesn’t make a big deal of its weirdness. It’s learned to use the sounds and scratches more subtley.

The results are great. It’s an album you can settle into for years to come and one that puts Wilco back on track with an album that you’ll want to keep from your own father, choosing instead to hand it down to a son or daughter.

3 Guitar Heroes Postpone Tour

2011-09-26T21:52:00.000-04:00

As soon as this tour was announced, I was excited about it.

For real, if I were to lay down my Baker's Dozen favorite guitar players, two of them would be former members of the Scorpions: Uli Jon Roth and Michael Schenker.

And Leslie West? Well, I did Mountain enough and I absolutely adore West, Bruce and Laing's Whatever Turns You On.

So the notion that these three legendary guitarists were touring together was something I was genuinely looking forward to, particularly when an Iowa date was announced on a Friday evening.

Just as I was getting excited, I got this announcement:

Michael Schenker, a true purveyor first-class hard guitar rock, is set to release the aptly titled Temple of Rock on October 11 on CD, digital formats, and vinyl. Unfortunately, his US visit with Uli Jon Roth and Leslie West on the 3 Guitar Heroes tour has been postponed until early 2012 due to Leslie West's leg amputation. More info will be made available at a later date.

Holy shit! The dude had his leg removed!

I thought surely a story like this would get more traction, but it obviously flew completely underneath my radar.

Evidently, it was an emergency amputation that occurred last June when his leg began to swell. They rushed Leslie to the hospital and, while there, he was advised that the procedure was needed to save his life.

Total bummer.

At first, I was convinced that Michael Schenker had done something silly.

On a press released concerning Schenker's upcoming record Temple of Rock, Schenker said:

"The Temple of Rock is within me where I create since I was introduced to the amazing invention of the distorted Guitar which is for me the most enjoyable and the best possible way to express myself. The Rock Guitar Sound that I fell in love with, mostly expressed as Lead break, is what I have nurtured and treasured all of my life. Combined with the infinite spring from within and the amazing musicians around me I keep expressing an ongoing development of my Art(Being). With Temple of Rock I am entering a new stage of my life, a new level of existence enjoying life more than ever, reaping the joy of all sorts of developments from the past.

Also, it seems to me that collectively, with true expressive makers of Rock Music, we have been building the external Temple Of Rock for many years and have now come to the point of putting on the roofing and celebrating the almost completion of the Temple. All generations of this period are meeting all over the world on one stage it seems celebrating an Era of 'Hand Made Rock' which will never be the same again due to invention of new technology but of course New Temples and New Wonders will arise to enjoy expressions in new ways."

What the fuck?

So you can see why I thought the postponed tour had something to do with Michael's deep fried synapse.

Here's for a speedy recovery.

To be able to see Uli and Michael playing together would be awesome.

House Of Lords Release New Album Today

2011-09-23T07:07:00.002-04:00

Evidently, the band House of Lords is still together and, evidently, they are releasing a new album today.

The press release:

Frontiers Records is pleased to announce the release of the brand new HOUSE OF LORDS studio album Big Money on September 23rd in Europe and September 27th in North America.

Following on the heels of the successful release of Cartesian Dreams House of Lords are coming back with another amazingly strong release which presents again all the trademark elements of their Melodic Hard Rock sound. "I am very proud to have done four HOL CD's with the same line-up" says singer James Christian, "I enjoy working with every one of them and plan to do many more records in the future. Mark Baker has now been on board as a co-writer for the last two CD's I love working with him. We are totally on the same page when writing new music."

And indeed, the new album, is truly newest addition to an already stellar catalogue of songs. Big Money, is well, 'BIG'. The album starts with the trademark vocals of James Christian and crashes into a Power Rock Classic that you will not forget after the first listen, followed by in a song that Christian describes "as the band's best work to date": "One Man Down". Each song has its own distinct quality as you would expect from The Lords and once again the album is full of soaring choruses, awesome guitar work and songs that grab you from the first listen and don't let go.

"The elements we use on Big Money are always the same for us and that is to write and record the best songs that we can" explains Christian. "We always write enough songs for more than one CD and then we pick the best songs to make up the new record. We will always be a Melodic Rock Group. It is the music that made us want to be musicians in the first place. So we will always stay true to that art!". James teamed up again on the songwriting with long-time friend and partner Mark Baker along with the other band members Jimi Bell and BJ Zampa and Swedish producer/guitarist Tommy Denander.

House of Lords debuted in 1989 with the release of the self-titled album, a record which is still regarded as one of the best Arena Rock releases of the 80's. The colossal sound, the soaring vocals of James Christian and instrumental capabilities of the band (which featured ex Angel and Giuffria Gregg Giuffria, along with such luminaries as Lanny Cordola, Chuck Wright and Ken Mary), reminiscent of such frontrunners as Whitesnake, Deep Purple and Van Halen, immediately brought the band to the attention of the media and fans.

With their sophomore release entitled Sahara, House of Lords gained considerable chart success with their cover version of Blind Faith's "Can't Find My Way Home". After a tour with Nelson in 1991, the group disbanded, eventually coming back with a new lineup (only featuring original members Giuffria and Christian) in 1992 with Demon's Down. With the change of the musical climate, House of Lords went into hibernation, until the original lineup came back together in 2000, releasing of the controversial Power and the Myth an album which featured a sound leaning more towards Progressive Hard Rock with 70's rock influences.

After a short European tour, singer James Christian decided to go back to the trademark Arena Rock sound of House Of Lords, putting together a new line-up with the blessing of founding member Gregg Giuffria, who opted out right before the release of Power and the Myth. New members Jimi Bell on guitars, B.J. Zampa on drums and Chris McCarvill on bass supplied a true powerhouse sound to the fifth studio album World Upside Down, a record which caused a real stir in the Hard Rock and Melodic Rock scene and was followed up by the equally impressive Come to My Kingdom and Cartesian Dreams.

The new album Big Money includes the following tracks: Big Money, One Man Down, First To Cry, Searchin', Someday When, Livin' In A Dream World, The Next Time I Hold You, Run For Your Life, Hologram, Seven, Once Twice, Blood. Also included: multimedia bonus videoclip "Someday When".

Brite Futures "Too Young To Kill"

2011-09-22T22:18:00.004-04:00

Before I start laying down the public relations script, let me just say I had a minute and a half to kill, so I pressed the arrow button on Brite Futures' video of "Too Young To Kill."

Sure, it's a bit Milky Way but everyone looks so adoreable and the music is so nicely early 80's, like if Chilliwack had a chick in the band.

True story: I just typed "chink," giggled when I noticed the error and then erased the offensive remark.

I rather liked the video and encourage everyone to go out and buy a case of whippets and do them while you watch the video.

Once I went bowling while doing nitrous oxide the entire game.

I scored a 43.

Here's what people who were forced to like the video said about it:

BRITE FUTURES is: David Price (keyboard, guitar, vocals) / Luke Smith (guitar, vocals) / Shaun Libman (vocals) / Conor Sisk (drums) / Claire England (bass, vocals, keyboard)

Dark Past is the new album from Seattle's fun-loving quintet Brite Futures. It is a youthful, swaggering mix of synth-happy pop, rock, funk, disco, and New Wave that has been described as "punk rock Abba disco Osmonds with chainsaws." It challenges the notion that irresistible pop can only be peddled by solo artists propped up by big-name songwriters and major labels. It's game on in Fall 2011 for these pop, indie-minded twenty-somethings when the band releases their new album on November 1st mixed by Eliot James (Two Door Cinema Club, Kaiser Chiefs) and produced by the band's guitarist and vocalist Luke Smith

On first listen to Brite Futures' fiercely catchy new album, Dark Past, it might seem like quite the misnomer. The album's synth-happy mix of New Wave, rock, funk, and dance music packs all the boundless pep of a hyperactive kindergartener on a never-ending sugar high. But tune in closer to these ten tracks and you'll soon hear the pain behind the pop.

"The title Dark Past is a half-serious reflection of the tough times we went through over the past few years," says guitarist Luke Smith, referring to the band's split with Warner Bros. Records during the days when they were known as Natalie Portman's Shaved Head (NPSH).

The band and Warner Bros. Records had different ideas about NPSH's artistic direction and the two parties mutually agreed to end the relationship. The band's dance with the majors left them conflicted - a difficult time that serves as a potent reminder about the importance of creative freedom and what it means to be truly independent. After that experience, Luke, Shaun, Claire, and David decided it was time for a new band name. "For as much attention as being called Natalie Portman's Shaved Head got us, it was also holding us back," Luke says. "It was nice to shed that name and be our own thing for the first time." (Brite Futures address the issue in the final episode of their hilarious "Conversation with Natalie" trilogy on their YouTube channel.)

Now signed to the indie label Turnout, Brite Futures have emerged stronger and excitedly in control of their artistic endeavors, which also include their clever videos and visually inspired merch. "It's like we're a whole new band that got to start all over again," Claire says.

Dark Past is brimming with brilliant moments ....a lovingly stolen Beatles melody on "Too Young To Kill," lyrics that reference The Kinks and Gossip Girl in the same breath, the occasional face-melting guitar solo and the epic and rousing "Black Wedding," which addresses the aftermath of extricating themselves from their contract with WB and reveling in the freedom to make the kind of music they wanted again.

"We want to prove that we can compete with the big guys. You don't see many bands doing this on their own," adds Luke. Noting his pride at Brite Futures' "underdog status," he says he's now happy to have weathered the bad breaks that inspired Dark Past. "We came out the other side with a new sense of confidence, and it's amazing to have this album to be an account of that."

It's The End Of R.E.M. As We Know It...And I Feel Fine

2011-09-22T00:00:00.002-04:00

R.E.M. announced that they were breaking up today.

I’m one of those that things the end couldn’t come soon enough.

I’m hesitant to be too harsh on the band, because they made up such a huge chunk of my life, particularly during the 80’s.

Let me give you an example, ironically coming over the weekend when I did a little meaningless trivia concerning the band over the week, just for the sake of showing off.

Whether or not he was impressed by my display of geekdom is another matter entirely.

The topic of our discussion began with music of the 80’s.

Suddenly, a song came from his phone.

“Who sings this song?” he asked.

“R.E.M.” I replied after a verse.

“What’s the name of it?” he continued.

“Orange Crush” I recalled. I thought it was a weird song to begin with and one that I hadn’t heard in some time.

He went on.

“What album is it from?”

I answered correctly.

“What album number is Green?”

Before I answered, I asked for clarification.

“Is that studio album only or studio albums and compilations?”

Finally, I brought out the big guns.

“I’ll bet you fifty bucks that I can tell you the year, month, and day that Green was released.”

He didn’t take the bet.

I’m bragging a bit, so let me explain how I even know this: I worked as a program director for my college student run radio station. We received an advanced copy of “Orange Crush” before Green was released and with the advance copy single came a postcard. On it said the following: “Things to do on November 7th: Vote and buy R.E.M.’s Green.”

If you would have made me answer that same question about any other R.E.M. album other than Green, and I would have owed you $50.

I collected R.E.M. records including singles, limited edition releases and pointless imports. I figured their rate of return would be great as the band was destined to continue to rise, but by the time drummer Bill Berry left the band, my interest had waned.

It didn’t seem right without a permanent drummer.

And the recorded results affirmed that.

Sure, a few of the records stirred up to pleasant memories of old, but it seemed more like pandering than newfound inspiration. Plus, they were a different band, twenty years removed from Stipe’s mumbling exploits and Peter Buck’s Rickenbacker jangle.

They were a band of mystery during those early records, and it was during that aforementioned record Green in which he fell into his role as lead singer. And the moment in which he began to approach that role with complete confidence was the moment all mystery was left.

Because of that, I’m not very sad at the moment that one of my favorite bands of all time has ended their tenure.

For me, the end came long before.

Countdown To The New Mastodon Album

2011-09-20T23:14:00.002-04:00

I don't know how long the "audio visualization" of the new Mastodon album, The Hunter, will stay on-but I suggest that you play it immediately.

It's the entire album.

The visuals get tired after a while-it's more of the same backdrop they use during their live sets-but like every Mastodon album, the music gets better over time.

A review is in the works, but initial signs point to another friggin' winner to these road dogs.

September 20, 2011
MEDIA ALERT!

The Hunter by the mighty MASTODON will be released September 27th.

With that in mind, the band would like to share their full album online premiere with THE HUNTER VISUALIZER, which will go LIVE today September 20th. Click here now to get a sensual whiff of what's in store for you before street date.

Also, Pitchfork.com will premiere the official "Curl Of The Burl" video this Thursday, September 22nd. Brace yourself.

More to be revealed shortly. Stay close to www.mastodonrocks.com for details.

By Hatchet, Axe and Saw

2011-09-19T13:28:00.003-04:00

I stayed up too late the other night to watch the Rush documentary Beyond The Lighted Stage again. I think I mentioned the awesomeness of this film before, but in case you haven’t seen it, check VH1 Classic’s schedule every now and then as it’s on constant rotation there.

For as many times as I’ve seen it, I should probably go out and get an actual copy for myself. But like cd’s, I’ve slowed down my physical purchases with dvds, mainly because it doesn’t make much sense to overload our suburban abode with a bunch of physical media that will all one day be available digitally and then store in some other digital cloud that never needs dusting.

There’s one moment in the movie where Billy Corgan speaks to the band’s importance to him while growing up. At one point, Corgan describes asking his mother to come into his room so that he can play a Rush song to her.

The song-which I’ve forgotten now and am too lazy to look up at the moment-resonates within him, and he finds the theme to the song so important that he wants her to hear it.
I’m sure how she interpreted it was different than his intention. I know this because I’ve lost count at trying to turn on my parents to some personal song only to see them fail to understand the significance to what the song means to me.

And I’m certain that my own kids will try to do the same and I’m sure that I too will fail to find the significance in how they relate to it.

But I won’t stop in trying, and I will never begin to simply discount what kind of impact a song may have on them. I’m interested in the emotional connection that songs have in people and that’s the reason why today I continue to obsess over such things.
There are songs in which we like because they sound good and there are songs that we like because they complete an emotional synapse, keeping it fresh for as long as we are able to retrieve that memory.

At one point, when I began to notice my parent’s immediate reaction towards a piece of music that they didn’t appreciate, I simply stopped trying to get them to identify with a band or a song.

For my mom, it was during my Doors phase. I was playing Waiting For The Sun and she told me to “turn off this crap” when “My Wild Love” was playing.
My dad actually stood up for me on that one.

But he had difficulties too, and that became all too apparent when he and I along with my girlfriend at the time went out of town shopping. On the way home, I played Raising Hell but Run-DMC after purchasing the cassette. I thought that maybe the Run-DMC/Aerosmith collaboration of “Walk This Way” would get him to better appreciate rap as an art form.

It didn’t work.

My father had also purchased a cassette that day, John Fogerty’s Centerfield.
Guess which tape my girlfriend and I had to endure the rest of the way home?

To this day, I can’t stand that album-mainly for that piece of shit song “I Saw It On TV,” the one where Forgerty goes through a completely nostalgic list of Baby Boomer events- ala “We Didn’t Start The Fire”- to which my father would give bits of commentary over the historical imagery.

There was one time when I was either in middle school or just starting my freshman year of high school that my father knocked on my bedroom door and wanted to ask me a music related question.

Let me just say now that at this moment, I felt on top of the world. My father was coming to me for a musical question, thereby acknowledging that I was somewhat of an “expert” on the subject.

I was more than happy to oblige.

“Do you listen to the band Rush?” he asked.

Duh!

What music-loving 8th grade boy didn’t listen to Rush!

“What’s the name of the song that they do that is about racism?”

Of course, the song he was referring to was “The Trees” and I immediately went to my copy of Exit…Stage Left to give him a sample.

He went on to explain that the subject of racism was being discussed in his American history class and that a couple of students had brought up the song.

“Can you make me a copy of it?” he asked.

I probably had the thing done in a few hours-including a bunch of other Rush tracks in case dad became enchanted with the Canadian power trio.

After all, he was a big fan of Cream.

A week later, I couldn’t resist.

“What did you think of that Rush song I taped for you?” I asked him.
“I haven’t listened to it yet.” He admitted after a quick pause to reflect on the question. “I think it’s still in my briefcase somewhere.”

It became clear that there was no real intention of him actually listening to it and that it probably wouldn’t enter his curriculum either.

He’d become too attached to the familiar, resistant to anything new-particularly to anything discovered by a teenager.

My commitment today is to at least listen to what my kids present to me. It’s a microscope to what they may be feeling inside, and as we should already know-teenagers aren’t the most open of specimens when it comes to matters of the heart.

Carissa's Wierd Release New Single

2011-09-13T07:07:00.005-04:00

Carissa's Weird, a band frequently overlooked during ganders on the Pacific Northwest, is releasing their first new music in over seven years over at Hardly Art. The friendly label sends us with an official stream of the b-side of their new single.

They provide us with the following:

The seminal northwest group [Carissa's Wierd] - whose members went on to form Band of Horses and Grand Archives, and spawned the solo projects of Jenn Ghetto (S) and Sera Cahoone - has recorded two new tracks, which will be released on a 7" and digitally on September 13.

It is fitting that these tracks are presented as odes, both of which pack a wistful wallop that has come to be expected from the group. The first, to "Tucson," the birthplace of Carissa's Wierd, with the violin lines of Sarah Standard beaming through the adage "you can never go home again" before things get a bit metal. The second, to "Meredith & Iris," a dramatic waltz number delivered with an intensity that implies it has been marinating for the past decade. Both tracks feature Mat Brooke (Grand Archives, Band of Horses) and Jenn Ghetto (S) on vocals, and both songs are exclusive to this 7". Stream the b-side, "Meredith & Iris," here.

Carissa's Wierd will play a show at Neumos in Seattle on September 24 in support of the 7", with plans to book a future show in New York. It is too soon to say whether or not Carissa's Wierd is "back," but for the time being, we can certainly say that they are here.

About the band:

For a band that played so softly, Carissa’s Wierd generated a hell of a buzz. “We never intended to be as quiet as we were,” says co-founder Jenn Ghetto. The hushed volumes that became a stylistic trademark were one of the earliest outcomes of that attitude. As teenagers in Tucson, AZ, Ghetto and Mat Brooke met at a Goth club. Soon they were writing songs together on twenty dollar guitars, plugged into cereal box-sized amplifiers—definitely not the kind that go to 11.

They worked around their limitations. “All the early recording we ever did was in her moms’ closet on a cheap four track,” remembers Brooke. “We’d have to be quiet, because her Grandma was sleeping.”

The adolescent friends couldn’t afford a practice space to rock out in either. So when it came time to translate their homespun compositions and lo-fi recordings to a live setting, the intimacy remained—only now they were sharing bills with local hardcore bands. Carissa’s Wierd may not have played as loud, hard and fast as their Tucson contemporaries, but they radiated intensity nevertheless...

Carissa's Wierd - Meredith & Iris by hardlyartrecords

Kiss Plushes On Sale Today So That You Can Help With Gene Simmons' Retirement

2011-09-07T07:07:00.004-04:00

After the Kiss Kasket and Kiss skins for Mini Cooper automobiles, nothing surprises me any more. Here's the press release from the Funko company.

The folks at FUNKO have come up with yet another way to reinvent one of the most influential rock and roll bands of all-time of all time... KISS! On September 7th, they will release their new line of KISS Plushies to the masses. (Click on the images to the right for hi res photos)

The line consists of four dolls: Gene Simmons 'The Demon', Paul Stanley 'The Starchild', Ace Frehley 'The Spaceman', and Peter Criss 'The Catman'.

Each doll is 7" tall and is available for pre-order at www.entertainmentearth.com. They will start shipping to customers on September 11, at which time they will be available at local FYE stores. Each doll will retail in the 10.99-12.99 price range.

KISS holds honors as one of America's top gold record champions, recording 36 albums over 32 years selling over 85 million albums worldwide. The band formed in New York City in December 1972 and was easily identified by each member's trademark face paint and stage outfits. They rose to prominence in the mid and late-1970s on the basis of their elaborate live performances, which featured fire breathing, blood spitting, smoking guitars, and pyrotechnics. KISS has been awarded 24 gold albums to date.The band has sold over 85 million albums to date.

The original lineup of Paul Stanley (vocals and rhythm guitar), Gene Simmons (vocals and bass guitar), Ace Frehley (lead guitar and vocals), and Peter Criss (drums, percussion and vocals) is the most successful and identifiable. With their makeup and costumes,

they took on the personae of comic book-style characters: The Demon (Simmons), Starchild (Stanley), Spaceman (Frehley), and Catman (Criss). The band explains that the fans were the ones who ultimately chose their makeup designs.

The "Demon" makeup reflected Gene's cynicism and dark elements, as well as his love for comic books. Paul Stanley became the "Starchild" due to his tendency to be referred to as the "starry-eyed lover" and "hopeless romantic." Ace Frehley's "Spaceman" makeup was a reflection of him wanting to go for a ride in a space ship and supposedly being from another planet. Peter Criss' "Catman" makeup was in accordance with the belief that Peter had nine lives due to his rough childhood in Brooklyn.

"Over thirty years of record-breaking tours around the globe include high-profile appearances at Super Bowl XXXIII, the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City and most recently, the 2005 Rockin' The Corps concert dedicated to our troops in Iraq and Afghanistan.

The KISS legacy continues to grow, generation after generation, transcending age, race and creed.

The unparalleled devotion and loyalty of the KISS Army to the "Hottest Band in the World" is a striking testament to the band's unbreakable bond with its fans.

Soundtrack To A Break Up

2011-09-06T22:55:00.003-04:00

I sold my wedding ring from my first marriage over the weekend.

I had totally forgotten about it, until I noticed the price of gold was so high that I made a concerted effort to find it.

It was in an old Egyptian tin that I had, shaped in the form of a case that they’d house mummies in. I bought that in the 80’s and I used it to store my earrings and those hippie friendship bracelets in.

I sincerely miss those.

The wedding band was next to an old faded friendship bracelet and a Fishbone earring.

Both of those things had a deeper connection than the wedding band. They meant more to me now, but the economic climate proved the ring to be of a bigger monetary value.

And today’s economic climate meant that I would use the money I received from selling it to the pawnshop would go to help pay a credit card payment.

At first, I looked around the store just to make sure there wasn’t something that I could trade for. It seemed logical to replace it with something that might provide me with happier memories in the future.

An Epiphone copy of McCartney’s Hoffner bass guitar caught my eye, but then I’d have to buy a bass amp with it.

That would have left me in the hole.

I remembered how my ex-wife got to keep a bitchin’ Danelectro Longhorn bass and an awesome SWR combo amp with it. I’m sure it’s collecting dust now, a relic taken out of spite instead of passion for music.

She also got the piano, the scratches on the hardwood floor from when she moved out another sign of contempt. If she truly loved that blonde wooded behemoth, she certainly would have played it more and taken better care of it when moving it from our home.

Divorce is not an easy thing. Nobody warns you of the sick feeling you get when you are forced to admit that you’ve failed at marriage. You get wrapped up in the incidentals> It’s almost like your mind is forcing your brain to focus on trivial bullshit.

For me, it was ridiculous things. Like when she tried to suggest that the copy of Spacemen 3’s Taking Drugs To Make Music To Take Drugs To was hers.

Just because you went to a couple of Spiritualized shows with me doesn’t mean the import copy of an old Spacemen 3 record is yours.

It's mine, put it back.

There were also other things. Like when she told the guy who delivered our mail to our home that I had moved out because I “turned gay.” He went and told another guy in the neighborhood about it, not knowing that the guy was my divorce lawyer.

She tried to take some of my music from me, and to this day, she was quite successful at it.

I don’t mean physically taking it, like the Spacemen 3 record (which I successfully got back, btw), I mean “taking” it in the sense that I’ll never be able to listen to some songs again because they’re permanently associated with the period of our divorce.

I remember once driving with my family and finding an old mix cd that wasn’t labeled well. Almost immediately, I could tell that it was made during the time my marriage was crumbling.

Each song in that mix cd brought me deeper into that period. By the time Eels’ “Numbered Days” came on, I was on the verge of tears.

I quickly ejected the disc.

I’m sure nobody knew what was going on in my head at the time, and I’m sure I wasn’t part of any conversation that was taking place between my wife and the children.

I checked out temporarily. At that moment, I was back to the point where my marriage was collapsing-just like the same moment I was in while making that compilation.

Everybody likes to talk about how music can provide the soundtrack to your life, but nobody seems to admit that it also provides the soundtrack to the shitty parts too.

Here it is. The song that perfectly mirrors the break up of my first marriage that it frightens me. How many times have you come across a song that fits your moment so well that you’re sure the author of it had some kind of authorized access to your life, mind, and feelings?

I don’t remember what possessed me to buy Shootenanny, the album “Numbered Days” is found on. If I recall, the local FYE store in the mall at the time was closing, and I went through a few of their closeout selections and snagged a couple of items for the cheap.

I came across what was then the new Eels album, thought “Hey, I think I liked these guys once” and plucked down a few bucks for it.

I didn’t think too much after first listening to it, but I fell in love with this song a short time later when the relationship between my wife and I began to go south.

In retrospect, it was over quickly. I asked for all music related items (acquiescing the bass stuff), the bedroom set given to me when my grandmother passed away, and a Honda Accord with over a quarter of a million miles on it.

She got everything else.

Because of the cooperative nature of dividing the assets, things were over quickly and we agreed upon a speedy resolution.

At the time, it seemed to last forever.

The song tells the story of it.

I hope you will never hear it in the same way that I hear it.

Eric Clapton - Another Ticket

2011-09-04T01:01:00.002-04:00

Welcome to the Eric Clapton record that began over a decade of avoidance to the legendary guitarist.

Another Ticket marked Clapton’s first attempt at pulling the proverbial wool over his fan’s eyes by delivering an album of such notable mediocrity that it’s hard to fathom how it could get any worse.

Remarkably, as tepid as Another Ticket is, it still doesn’t represent how bad Clapton got. It’s notable for the fact that this is the record where he began to not give a shit. There is little within it that can be thought of as memorable, which is ironically the reason why I dug it out and listened to it again.

Aside from the album’s only hit, “I Can’t Stand It,” I could remember little about Another Ticket’s other selections. And after my visit, I can assure you that it may be another few decades before I listen to this album again.

It begins with “Somethin’ Special,” a plodding piece that puts Clapton 20 years past his age at the time of this recording. There’s little emotion within it, just a tired patch of music that he farted out for no other reason than it was one step towards contract obligation.

There’s plenty more of this ilk throughout the record.

The title track is even worse with its whining narrative of an aging star finding his life is merely a treadmill of circular obligations.

Even on a raucous cover of “Blow Wind Blow” finds Clapton mustering up a half-ass growl with shelling out guitar licks that he could accomplish in his sleep.

Only “I Can’t Stand It” breaks out of the slow/mid-tempo mode with any conviction. No wonder it proved to be the record’s only hit single.

Another Ticket finds Eric shuffling through middle age with no hint of guitar prowess or even a desire to be recognized as a superstar within rock’s elite. He either thought that he could retain that status by phoning it in or, true to the album title, has just discovered that that even a rock and roll lifestyle is just as mundane as the regular Joe's still buying his mope.

We Remember Gregory Isaacs

2011-09-03T07:07:00.002-04:00

The reggae world lost a legend when Gregory Isaacs past away last year. Isaacs, a the man who placed his golden voice upon such reggae classics like “Night Nurse” and “Mr. Brown,” has a wonderful legacy and numerous records in print, just rip for discovery.

Producer Dean Fraser began looking for ways to bring Isaacs back into the spotlight but very little money to do so. But after laying down some musical tracks from Isaac’s repertoire, Fraser put the word out to some of reggae music’s best-known purveyors of today’s sound and found the response overwhelming.

The result is We Remember Gregory Isaacs, a 16-track compilation that is surprisingly good and a heartfelt tribute to this remarkable vocalist.

The entrants do a good job of following Isaacs’ smooth delivery while managing to retain a bit of their own style in their song selection.

Tarrus Riley does a splendid job of introducing the set with “Front Door” and Chevaughn gets the nod for best contribution on “Red Rose For Gregory.”

But it is not the contributor’s vocals that’s is the issue: it’s the music. Fraser claims to have most of the tracks completed in one day, and from the sound of it, I believe him.

There’s very little organic sound on any of the tracks, making the instrumentation sound cheesy and fey. After a while, things get to be a bit same-y underneath those impressive covers, and the second-disc of instruments is completely pointless.

As modern reggae offerings is considered, We Remember Gregory Isaacs isn’t a bad sampling of reggae’s current tastemakers, but as is true with any tribute album, it’s never quite as good as the real thing.

Marty Robbins - Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs

2011-09-02T07:07:00.001-04:00

Marty Robbins’ Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs was one of my purchases during 2011’s Record Store Day. I was concerned that this 50 year old piece of vinyl would surely show signs of wear and tear, but the thing looked like it did right out of the plastic wrap and, for ten measly bucks I couldn’t pass up this landmark country release. I could see the smile on my face in the grooves of the record as I was mesmerized by the old-school Columbia Records red label that listed the song titles.

Gunfighter Ballads is one of those records that transcended its genre when first released. Not only did it reach the upper eschelon of the country charts when it was released, it reached the top 10 pop charts, largely due to the success of its single, “El Paso.”

That cut, if you’re keeping score hit number 1 in both the country and pop charts.
They don’t make ‘em like that anymore, and the music found within Gunfighter Ballads is no exception either. The story goes that Robbins was residing in Nashville and became homesick for his Arizona roots. Recalling the old west and campfire songs of his youth, Marty began composing a series of ballads which later became the bulk of this album.

The album was recording in its entirety one afternoon and became the full length that he is probably best known for.

And for good reason, both the originals and the covers seem to be coming from the depth of the man’s soul. The sparce arrangement of Mr. Robbins’ trio is perfect for the material presented. It is a concept album before there was even a name for “concept album,” and the entire package has the uncanny ability to take you to a place you’ve only seen in western movies.

For me, I can close my eyes with Gunfighter Ballads playing an immediately become transported to an old west campfire, where hard-riding cowboys reach the end of the day with a bit of lonesome reflection on the trails that led them there.
Robbins’ voice is perfect, disregarding the vocal techniques of typical country singers and replacing it with a sensitive baritone that’s irreplaceable. Each song paints a story, but it’s Robbins’ immaculate voice that makes them come to life.

Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs is a vital piece of America’s music during the last century and deserves a place in every music lover’s collection. Even if you’ve never been west of the Mississippi or been a fan of old west memorabilia, the album is so genuine that it will take you directly to the feeling that Robbins perfectly creates within its grooves.

Chet Atkins and Les Paul - Chester & Lester

2011-09-01T07:07:00.001-04:00

My dad got me this album a few years ago on a whim, an original vinyl edition purchased on ebay in great shape.

He told me that he stumbled across the record himself, bought it, and then purchased another copy for me as he was impressed with the results.

Chester and Lester is a lighthearted recording of two guitar kings Chet Atkins and Les Paul. Perhaps you’ve heard of one of them, or perhaps you play one of their guitars.

The two gentlemen joke around, show off, and show genuine appreciation for one another in what can best be described as a fly-on-the-wall recording where nobody really takes themselves too seriously, but the guitar riffs are as serious as a heart attack.

Nothing sounds like it’s too difficult for these masters, but in the ears of a novice like me, there are several moments where I was shaking my head in disbelief as Chet (in his 50’s at the time) and Les (in his 60’s) completely master the frets.

Chester and Lester was recorded in two days with no overdubs and no shortage of joy within the grooves of my copy. Without question, if you don’t get a kick out of the honery shenanigans that these two legends dish out in such short order, then music may not be the answer to soothe your ills.

Because even a barely-capable player like yours truly finds Chester and Lester to be both an inspiration and validation of the power of music and its ability to build a bridge to a better life.

Thank goodness someone had the good sense to get these two together for an impromptu meeting that can provide a lifetime of joy with each subsequent listen.

Reggae's Gone Country

2011-08-31T00:13:00.000-04:00

The idea is simple: Create a unique album of country songs as interpreted by today’s current reggae notables.

The problem is thus: Who are today’s reggae “notables.”

I’m guilty of it too. My appreciation of reggae is deep-seeded. There is no logical explanation for it, other than one of my favorite joys in the summertime is to open up the sunroof in my 4Runner and just blare old-school reggae for no other reason than just to pretend I’m not in a landlocked state.

But the reality is that when Reggae began to shift to more dancehall vibes and to incorporate more rap elements into the arrangements was the day that I left the island for good. It’s a genre where I’m merely trying to tie up the final requirements. I’m looking for Bunny Wailer’s elusive Liberation, there’s a few Peter Tosh records that I need to acquire, and I still haven’t been able to find a digital source for Lieutenant Stitchie’s “Body Body” 12”, so my vinyl copy will have to suffice.

What I’m admitting here is that I haven’t bought a new reggae album in over twenty years and product like Reggae’s Gone Country is an attempt to turn people on to this vital genre and an attempt to win me back by exposing new artists for me to consider.

While it’s obviously just a blatant marketing attempt, the producers try to associate the two genres with tales of similarities which don’t seem to go beyond much more than the subject matters of their respective songs.

What’s curious is that I view reggae as a rebellious outlet, particularly for all of the struggles that the country has felt within its urban centers and the island’s strong ties to Afro-centric cultures.

And for the life of me, I can’t remember Kenny Rogers’ singing about Marcus Garvey.

When Busy Signal comes to return the favor with his version of “The Gambler,” we get a tepid reggae beat underneath an out-of-place steel guitar and a completely uninspired and auto-tuned vocal that merely recites the lyrics.

They even grabbed Larry Gatlin for a reggae version of “California” which, again, is nothing more than a wimpy reggae beat over a re-recorded version of the original.

In fact, Reggae’s Gone Country manages to neuter both genres pretty effectively with every song included. It completely ignores any similarities that the press-kit tries to convince you of and it even goes a step further.

It is bad enough that it will do exactly the opposite of what it’s designed to do: prompt you to dive deeper within the genre, finding a hidden affection towards the music and the new artists that are supposedly carrying the torch for a new generation.

Maybe these artists would fare better by listening to the genre’s groundbreaking revolutionaries instead of the record labels who believe shit like Reggae’s Gone Country will attract tourists.

Happy Birthday, G.G. Allin

2011-08-29T22:44:00.002-04:00

It's G.G. Allin's birthday today.

Who knew?

Aggronautix, the fine company that brought you items like the Roky Erickson bobblehead and the Johnny Winter bobblehead are digging back into their catalog of G.G. Allin shit and celebrating the poop-eater's birthday.

They're even having a sale!

So if you're in to this sociopath and his shitty music, you may want to act quickly as this shit sells out fast.

Maybe because they only make three dozen copies of the stuff, which is just about the number of fans that G.G. Allin still has.

Ha!

Here's the press release bullshit:

Kevin Michael Allin, born on this day 55 years ago as Jesus Christ Allin, would become known to the world as G.G. Allin - the most infamous Rock and Roll icon of all time.

AGGRONAUTIX is celebrating his legacy this week by offering some new G.G. items and discounting all other exsisting items.

First, the new item... a G.G. Allin portrait by John Wayne Gacy. This is an 18 x 24 replica poster of the G.G. Allin portrait that John Wayne Gacy painted for the HATED's original theatrical release. This was painted in Gacy's jail cell on death row, two years before his execution. A must have for any fan or collector. Only about 30 or so left!

Next, we are discounting the ever-popular G.G. Allin - 1991 Condensed Carnage Throbblehead to just $10. This ghoulish effigy is a smaller version of the original G.G. "1991" limited edition throbblehead that quickly sold out. The figure stands at 5 inches tall and is made of a lightweight polyresin. Displayed in a window box, here GG is accurately sculpted right down to the tattoos, blood, and filth. Mount him on your dash or on your hood, carry him in your your pocket, take him everywhere!

We are also discounting the G.G. Allin Latex Mask by $10. This is the officially licensed unlimited DISPLAY ONLY 2nd edition latex mask by SikRik. The 1st edition, limited to 35 numbered copies, sold out in less than 24 hours.

Other G.G. items include G.G. Allin HATED Special Edition DVD (discounted to $15), the G.G. Allin & The AIDS Brigade - Live In Boston 1989 DVD(discounted to $15), and the G.G. Allin - Freaks, Faggots, Drunks and Junkies VINYL (discounted to $15).

And as a bonus treat, here's an awesome animated video for "Die When You Die"...

Peter Frampton and his Band Live In Riverside, Iowa

2011-08-28T23:14:00.005-04:00

Peter Frampton and his Band
Live at Riverside Casino, Riverside, IA
Saturday, August, 27, 2011

“Do you want me to get you a ticket?” I asked my wife as we pulled into Riverside Casino earlier this summer. Neither of us are gamblers; the visit was specifically designed to purchase Peter Frampton tickets at the venue to avoid any additional fees and extra charges.

My wife wasn’t even born when Frampton Comes Alive was released. In fact, Frampton was already old news when she first arrived. But for me, as a 10-year-old who witnessed the rise and fall of Peter Frampton firsthand, I understood the significance of what was the greatest selling double live album of all time.

I don’t know if that distinction still stands, but I do know that the vinyl document is a ubiquitous piece for a certain generation, a generation that my wife acknowledged she wasn’t a part of when she told me that she wasn’t interested in a ticket.

Frampton Comes Alive wasn’t my first recorded obsession; it came after Elton John’s Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboys and before Queen’s News Of The World. But I’m not so fickle that I no longer acknowledge Frampton’s impact on my rock and roll upbringing.

This is why I immediately jumped at Frampton’s casino stop, particularly after I learned he would be performing the album in its entirety as part of its 35th anniversary.

Nobody under thirty was there willingly. The casino’s outdoor stage area was filled with middle-aged fans, and I overhead such comments along the lines of “This is the second time I’ve seen him! But the first time, he had long, curly blonde hair!”

Frampton celebrated his 60th birthday this year, so those long, golden locks have gone-literally-and what hair he has left is short and grey. What remains is his toothy grin and an unbelievable talent at playing the guitar.

It’s something that he focuses on now. In fact, during the second set of more recent material, he performed a lot of instrumental songs that showed how he’s developed a wide range to his playing that goes far beyond the amplified Humble Pie boogie that kicked off his sing-stringed talents.

Frampton tackled these late career efforts with smooth ease and eloquent playing. While nowhere near the aggressive rock playing of Comes Alive, it retained a feeling of a fine artisan who’s still working hard to deliver performances of impeccable aptitude.

He seemed to understand that his days as a pin-up, which is actually how he began as a teen idol with The Herd, are long gone. He’s now completely focused on life as a guitarist, knowing very well that he needs to dish out a bit of F.C.A. during every performance, anniversary or not.

There’s no disputing that the crowd came for Comes Alive, and while the video screen behind the band displayed appropriate-era photographs of Frampton and his band, there was no hint that he was going to make the show a Polaroid copy of that landmark release.

“For those of you familiar with the vinyl version of the album, you may have noticed that the songs are out of order…I can see a worried look in some of your eyes.” Frampton noticed. He went on to explain that they were playing the same set as they did on that night at Bill Graham’s Winterland that night in 1975 and not the edited sequence vinyl release.

While that may have disrupted the audience members who came to hear the song-by-song rendition of the double album, for me it worked wonders. The arrangement of the real setlist was perfect, and I later discovered that Frampton would continually experiment with the nightly setlist, adding and deleting titles based on the crowd’s reaction. While the vinyl track listing has no flaws itself, the real setlist that night shows a killer one-two punch (“Something’s Happening” into “Doobie Wah”) followed by a segment of light and bouncy cuts, into an acoustic portion, before giving way to the flashing and heavier material by the end of the set.

Whatever formula he used, the original set list trumps the vinyl version and is as close to perfect as you could get.

“We’re well into side two now,” he reminded us, acting as almost a tour guide throughout the entire release, gingerly acknowledging that he understood how Frampton Comes Alive meant to a lot of those in attendance.

Speaking of side two: on the acoustic song “Winds of Change,” it sounds like someone lights a firecracker in the background during this quiet number. On Saturday night I could have sworn that on this same song, someone has dialed up a pre-recorded sample of that noise and placed it into the live mix at the exact same moment as what you’d hear on the record.

That freaked me out a little bit, not from being startled, but at me thinking about the noise from my old vinyl version and then hearing it live, wondering if it was real or if I was just hearing things.

Most of the performances in the set were performed at a much lower intensity than the original recording, but as the ticket stub reminded everyone in attendance, this was 35 years after the fact.

Instead, he replaced the hunger of the original performance with expert execution and stunning virtuosity during the extended solos. You could tell that songs like “Baby I Love Your Way” are in the set because of their obligation, but that doesn’t stop Frampton by checking out new directions during the solos.

By the time he has reached “I Wanna Go To The Sun” and “(I’ll Give You) Money,” the solos are reaching epic performances, causing even the most sedentary of audience members to raise from their seats-or lawn chairs as the case was in my back section.

Say what you want about casino shows, but for me they’re good fun for a number of reasons.

In Frampton’s case, the Saturday night show demonstrated decent numbers of well-intended Midwestern folks who thought nothing of downing a few beers and getting lit up on a beautiful August night.

At a casino show-or at least at the one I visit-there aren’t teenagers prowling around the parking lot hassling you to get inside to enjoy an $8 tall boy that they’ll loving pour into a plastic cup for you.

Instead, the Class of ’76 flowed around the outdoor stage, into the adjacent casino, past the indoor/outdoor smoking section, stopping to high-five a fellow graduate or to sneak a quick dance to “Show Me The Way” with a divorcee.

All of it looked remarkably similar to the shows that they probably attended back in ’75, where domestic beer and Pepsi were the only two beverages provided and retired Navy guys did a half-assed job at security.

For Saturday, it wasn’t ole armed service fellows or the excessive meatheads that our modern venue security force. Instead, it was casino workers looking for some extra overtime after their shift, politely pointing you towards the smoking section and reminding you of the seafood buffet after the performance.

Throughout it all, Peter Frampton smiled and shook his head at the three-hour time machine he had just created, crab legs not included.

That’s right: three hours. And during the entire thing, it didn’t look like there was any other place that he’d rather be.

Sure, there were those that chose to pack up an leave after the Comes Alive set, but not as many as I originally thought. There were several people who considered leaving, only to hang around when they heard something vaguely familiar.

Like an instrumental version of “Black Hole Sun,” where Peter solo’d Chris Cornell’s part and then whipped out the talkbox again to actually go into the chorus at the end of the song.

Or the set closing “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” where the audience stayed out of respect to the source material, while probably not even knowing that Frampton learned about the talkbox while visiting Harrison’s sessions for All Things Must Pass.

Speaking of, my grin widened and I literally started giggling during the solo during “Do You Feel Like We Do.” Frampton would do a little scat and ask the appropriate questions a phrases (“I can’t hear you!”) while occasionally cracking up at some of the silly sounds he could get from the guitar effect.

“Now this is the time when we would have gone off stage for a few moments…and did drugs.” Frampton admitted, asking the audience to clap really loud, just like the would have had it really been the end of the set. “We don’t do drugs anymore,” he mentioned with a long pause before adding, “Well, we still do prescription drugs!” probably noting the inevitable pill count that seems to come with age.

It was the music that was timeless, however, taking on different nuances over the course of Comes Alive’s thirty-five years. Frampton delivered the record and his new material with the grace of someone who has seen both feast and famine in an impressively long career.

Frampton Comes Alive was released to serve fans as an introduction to Peter’s catalog, none of which managed to reach the heights of that live compilation.

Saturday’s show also served the same purpose in a way. It was a re-introduction to Frampton under the guise of his most notable effort. But we already knew the songs before we even bought the ticket, so there was indeed something higher going on.

Rather than merely revisiting the past, Frampton showed that even after his lowest points, he’s emerged levelheaded, sane, and with a better appreciation of the talents that put him on the roller coaster to begin with.

For lack of a better word, Peter Frampton's recent tour is merely an update example of him coming alive again even after things looked d.o.a. for many years in between.

Xray Eyeballs Release New Single,

2011-08-26T07:07:00.000-04:00

An interesting bit of scuzz pop with a KILLER bass guitar grind which inexplicitly fades out at the minute thirty mark.

It's a great entry in your next mix tape, provided you still have a TDK dealer.

Count the pill popping references below from the label's own press release:

Hardly Art is pleased to announce the first new material from Xray Eyeballs following the release of their debut LP, Not Nothing, earlier this year on Kanine Records. "Sundae" is a chugging, relentless number that wastes no time, carried all the while by O.J. San Felipe's increasinly anthemic vocals, while b-side "Deja Vu" (produced by Chris Coady) showcases a dancefloor-ready version of the band, filtered through a snare beat and synth line combo that insistently wanders through each stereo channel.

Listen to the A-side, "Sundae," here.

Both tracks are brand new and exclusive to this 7". A first pressing of 500 on translucent blue vinyl will be released on August 30, followed by a brief East coast tour in September.

About the band:

Xray Eyeballs began as the brainchild of guitarist O.J. San Felipe and bassist Carly Rabalais, who, while playing in Brooklyn garage-rock juggernaut Golden Triangle (Hardly Art, Mexican Summer), sought a release that would sate both their sweet-toothed desires and their darker impulses, like a candy-coated Vicodin.

The resulting sound features the distinctive vocal lines of San Felipe accentuated by the lilting voice of Rabalais amidst a miasmic musical whirl where guitars pulsate with turgid sexuality, bass-lines throb with Factory-style control, and the eerie synthesizer atmospherics of Rop Vazquez (Necking, The Pee-Chees) float around like impossibly cool ghosts you only dream of meeting.

The debut record, Not Nothing (Kanine Records), leads listeners on a skuzzy, love-buzzy trip, a mood-altering experience akin to those offered by The Jesus and Mary Chain and Velvet Underground. Like those musical antecedents, Xray Eyeballs proposes deliverance from the day-to-day by creating a world of their own. Low-lifes, night-walkers, pill-riders, and other sordid characters populate the band’s world and their songs entice the listener to follow them around until the early morning light

Xray Eyeballs - Sundae by hardlyartrecords

Tour dates:

09.06.11 - Atlanta, GA - The Earl *
09.08.11 - Raleigh, NC - Hopscotch Festival
09.09.11 - Richmond, VA - Strange Matter #
09.10.11 - Washington, DC - Comet Pizza and Ping Pong #
09.11.11 - Philadelphia, PA - Danger Danger Gallery #
09.13.11 - Brooklyn, NY - Death By Audio #

* - w/ Hunx and His Punx, Coathangers
# - w/ Grave Babies

Yngwie Malmsteen Reminds Everyone How Good He Is With New Album and North American Tour

2011-08-25T07:07:00.000-04:00

"GUITAR VIRTUOSO YNGWIE MALMSTEEN TO UNLEASH THE FURY ON NORTH AMERICA THIS FALL: MALMSTEEN'S FIRST NORTH AMERICAN TOUR IN MORE THAN THREE YEARS KICKS OFF IN OCTOBER."

That was the introduction in bold print, announcing Yngwie's newest album. Just look as some of his comments below and behold how self-absorbed they sound.

That's because Yngwie is an awesome guitarist.

And he knows it.

He's like the Ron Burgandy of guitarists, "He everyone! Come see how great I am!"

And there will be fans who do exactly that.

Sure, you can make the argument of the claim of how good he really is or question the soul of what he's really doing inside all those notes, but let's not forget the first time you heard Yngwie, marveling at the speed in which he was shredding.

The cynicism came later-and is probably deserved-but you can't deny the jaw-dropping method you witnessed on first glance. For a brief moment, you were willing to admit that Yngwie was one of the greatest guitarists ever.

The moment he opened his mouth to agree with your thoughts is the same moment you looked for reasons to disagree with him and put his ego in check just a bit.

Here's the press release:

(New York, NY) - It's been a long wait for American and Canadian fans...but come this October guitar legend Yngwie Malmsteen will make his triumphant return to North American stages with a Fall headlining tour. In support of Malmsteen's latest release, Relentless, the trek will kick off on Thursday, October 13th at New York City's Irving Plaza. Please see below for the itinerary, more dates will be announced shortly. Of the upcoming dates, Malmsteen commented, "I am very much looking forward to playing new pieces from Relentless, as well as Malmsteen classics. Fans can expect the unexpected...I raise the bar with every performance I do and this tour will be no different."

Released late last year, Yngwie Malmsteen's aptly-named latest album, Relentless, contains more than 60 minutes of new material and showcases the guitar great at his best with the signature virtuosity and mind-blowing technical speed for which he has come to be known. The album also features striking vocals from Tim "Ripper" Owens (Judas Priest, Iced Earth), who first collaborated with Malmsteen on 2008's critically-acclaimed Perpetual Flame (Malmsteen's first album for the Rising Force Records label). Relentless has received rave reviews from both critics and fans alike. Malmsteen recently graced the February cover of Guitar Player, with the magazine avowing, "Relentless continues the guitarist's long string of insane, epic and jaw-dropping releases."

For nearly three decades, Grammy-nominated Swedish guitar icon Yngwie Malmsteen has been amazing audiences with dazzling technical speed and ability. Malmsteen's signature style of playing, which combines elements of seemingly disparate styles of music - metal and classical, spawned the now commonplace genres of heavy metal known as "shred guitar" and "neo classical" and earned Malmsteen the title "the Paganini of heavy metal". Malmsteen was the first guitarist to have his own Fender signature guitar model (even before Eric Clapton). He has graced the cover of more than 200 magazines worldwide, has won every guitar award imaginable and to date, has sold millions of records. Time recently named Malmsteen one of the "Top Ten Greatest Electric Guitar Players", an honor he shared with the likes of Les Paul, Jimmy Page and Jimi Hendrix. "Guitar Hero" enthusiasts know they have arrived when they are bestowed with the Yngwie Malmsteen award in the Xbox 360 version of "Guitar Hero 2". The award signifies a 1000+ note streak in succession.

Yngwie Malmsteen North American headlining tour:

OCTOBER

13 New York, NY Irving Plaza

15 Silver Lake, MD Fillmore

18 Montreal, QC Club Soda

19 Toronto, ON Phoenix

21 Chicago, IL House Of Blues

23 Denver, CO Bluebird Theatre

26 San Francisco, CA Fillmore

28 Anaheim, CA House Of Blues

29 Los Angeles, CA Club Nokia

NOVEMBER

1 Houston, TX House Of Blues

2 Dallas, TX House Of Blues

5 Ft. Lauderdale, FL Revolution

The Guy From Toto And Another Guy From Survivor Get Set To Release Something

2011-08-24T07:07:00.000-04:00

First of all, I wonder how they determined who's name went first.

"J" is before "K," so did they go by album sales instead, thinking that Bobby was more popular with Toto than Survivor?

Maybe.

That IV album was a monster.

Or at least a monster-sized turd, if you're like me and remember how-at the height of their fame, nobody could identify a single member of Toto, let alone remember who the fuck Bobby Kimball even is.

Did Toto have the guy with AIDS, or was that Styx?

Look, I'm not trying to be flippant. Anonymity was one of the biggest complaints about Arena Rock band members, and since Toto was essentially a collaboration of session players anyway, how does this pairing even come about?

And with Survivor's Jimi Jamison, a guy who incidentally replaced the original lead singer (the guy that sang "Eye Of The Tiger"), how many people really give a shit?

The press release considers this a "super-group."

Read on:

Vocal legends Bobby Kimball (Toto) and Jimi Jamison (Survivor) team up for forthcoming album due out in October.

"Hold the Line", "White Sister", "English Eyes", "Goodbye Elenore", "Rosanna", "Is This Love", "Burning Heart", "The Search Is Over", "High on You", "I Can't Hold Back"... These songs from Toto and Survivor are true musical evergreens and are still played on radio stations all over the world. Each band has sold sold millions of records, respectively and have created a legendary melodic rock sound. The soaring vocals that kept these melodies in so many fan's minds come from two amazing singers: Bobby Kimball (Toto) and Jimi Jamison (Survivor). For the first time in their career, Bobby and Jimi have joined forces together for a "duets" album, which will see the light of day on Frontiers Records on October 14th in Europe and October 18th in North America.

"We always talked of doing something like this, musically we like the same stuff and we've been in the same kind of bands and when the opportunity arose we jumped on it" said Jimi Jamison. "I've always wanted to do a CD with Jimi because he is one of my best friends, we work well together and we have fun together" added Bobby Kimball.

The album features Kimball and Jamison's signature vocal styles in a familiar musical environment created for them by such esteemed songwriters as Richard Page (Mr. Mister), Jim Peterik (Survivor), Randy Goodrum (Steve Perry, Toto), John Waite, Erik Martensson (W.E.T.) and Robert Sall (Work of Art), among others, and directed by the expert hands of German producer Mat Sinner (Primal Fear, Sinner, Kiske Somerville). While not exactly a "supergroup", the Kimball-Jamison alliance is not just a one-off studio project, as the main motivation behind this album is an ongoing collaboration between the two singers who have been singing live together with the "Legends of Rock" and the "Voices of Classic Rock", both ensembles featuring singers and musicians from very popular classic rock groups.

Kimball-Jamison is a labour of love & friendship and is set to become a true classic among melodic rock fans.

The Kimball-Jamison album will include the following songs:

Worth Fighting For; Can't Wait For Love; Sail Away; Chasing Euphoria; Find Another Way; Get Back In The Game; I Did Everything Wrong; Shadows Of Love; Hearts Beat Again; We Gotta Believe; Kicking And Screaming; Your Photograph.The album will be released exclusively in a glossy digipak edition featuring a bonus DVD which includes: The Making of the Album (approx. 30 mins. documentary); Worth Fighting For (videoclip); Can't Wait for Love (videoclip)

Questioning The Legitimacy Of Katy Perry's String Of Number One Hits

2011-08-23T07:07:00.003-04:00

I’m speaking to a headline I noticed today, while not bothering to research further.
Katy Perry has apparently tied Michael Jackson's string of number one hits from a single album.

For the King of Pop the album was Thriller and for Katy Perry, Teenage Dream.

I needed to search for that album title, something that ultimately helps prove my point: If the headline is that Katy Perry is somehow on the same level of notoriety as Michael Jackson for this statistic, then shouldn't I be able to recite the name of Ms. Perry’s release without resorting to a Google search?

Shouldn't I be able to identify at least a few of those “hits” that Ms. Perry has given us?

The knee jerk reaction is simply to decry me as “old” and to suggest that I’m not in touch with the outlets that enable the “hitmakers” to reach their audience.

I’m used to the accusations of being old, and it impacts me as much as the label of Obama being a “socialist.” It’s convenient. It’s easy. But it really doesn’t address the defense that I haven’t heard/can’t name the aforementioned “hits” that Katy Perry has delivered, which caused the press release that she has somehow matched a similar feat that Michael Jackson accomplished over two decades ago.

Turning back to that period of time when Thriller was still residing high on the pop charts, I’m confident that even my parents were able to identify at least a few of Jackson’s hits through sheer osmosis.

I understand why that is. Radio was the dominate platform with MTV as another delivery method for my generation and younger. There were fewer outlets than we have today, and with such consolidation it was harder to escape the impact of Top 40 music, regardless of your age.

And when you’re face with the kind of sales that Jackson had with Thriller, it was nearly impossible to escape the hits that came from that record.

As a matter of fact, I have never owned a copy of Thriller ever because nearly every song was a hit and I became so tired of them that I didn’t need a copy. Thanks to its exposure, the songs are ingrained into my fiber and I have no desire to hear them again.

Sidenote: I recently got a copy of George Michael’s Faith reissue and immediate was disappointed with it after playing it. Not because of anything to do with the quality of the music, but because it reminded me of the record’s overexposure (it too, if you’ll recall, featured a huge number of hits when it was originally released) and after one play, it brought me back to the moment where something from it was played every hour.

Where I’m going with this is that Katy Perry’s accomplishment is not something we should even consider in terms of prior accomplishments. There will never be a superstar that is able to reach the same caliber of Michael Jackson's success with Thriller, so why pretend that Ms. Perry's feat somehow matches it.

The Billboard charts are a joke, a weak facsimile of what they once were and a tally of some strange Turkish blend of sources that manage to point to a long tail culture where even niche artists can make the top 10.

And like a box of Camels, it's all a smokescreen for a dying database.

In today's world, Katy Perry is a star.

But in Michael's world, she wouldn't even hold a candle to baby sister's Rhythm Nation.

So let's tone down the comparison rhetoric a bit. Give Ms. Perry her plaque and move on, but please don't try to put her accolades on the same level of Jackson's domination from Thriller.

Meet The Emperors Club

2011-08-22T07:07:00.000-04:00

There are some good things happening in Iowa City involving a new music collective called Emperors Club.

Featuring Adam Havlin from Deathships, San Diegan and Colin Ritchie from Trixter and Baby Animals respectively, Emperors Club is set to release their first e.p. entitled The Castle.

Of course, I'm kidding by suggesting that some members hail from failed 90's hair metal bands, and I'm joking if this comes across like I know any of those aforementioned members.

I've seen the name Deathships around town, but I rarely go old because I'm old with kids and anyone under thirty frightens me somewhat.

But I enjoy the title track that they have up at Soundcloud. It's a nice shot of unexpected Iowa power pop that sounds more Merseybeat than Midwest.

The Castle (preview) by Emperors Club