I do not like this band -if they never visit Cleveland to claim their place in Rock n’ Roll history; that is fine with me!
I was O.K. with the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame not allowing them in….
BUT…
I know the names:
Gene Simmons, Ace Frehley, Paul Stanley and Peter Criss
We all know those names and those are the names that the Hall of Fame accepted for induction.
There are a legion of fans still enlisted in the Kiss Army. They made enough records that you could cover an entire ocean and not let the fishes get any light…They are a raging success and deserve to be in no matter what us “serious” rock music fans think.
I mean, was the Ramones hit with Rock and Roll High School really any deeper than Rock and Roll all Nite?… Oh yeah-they were cool but Kiss was all flash.
They were really good flash-with smoke and make up and all the other stuff that made the kids go crazy.
Even the grown up kids. Even now.
But Kiss can’t get it together for the original four to play a couple songs for fans that have made them gods- Fans that have paid the mortgages on mansions and the insurance on fancy sports cars for years and years.
It is one night and a couple tunes- that will allow you guys to take this little carnival of fantasy on the road and laugh all the way to the bank for the rest of your days. It will allow 4 or 5 generations of your heirs to live like kings if they have any sense at all and not waste this wealth that your followers have bestowed on you.
But no—-Wha, wha wha…Gene Simmons wants everybody that ever pretended to be Ace Frehley and Peter Criss to play and be inducted because they are just as much of the Kiss experience.
And it seems that 3 or 4 fake Aces are too many Aces in the deck for the original Ace.
Whatever.
Could you please just give the fans what they want one more time?
You neuvo geeks don’t understand because you were not born before the revolution. ..
Before the revolution-there was only darkness for the fleet of brain.
Al Gore had not yet invented the internet.
We played chess by mail (yes, stamp and envelope mailbox-mail!…-pawn to king 4, bitch!)
We were hunted down in school and beaten up for good sport-they would later call this bullying-and even later would declare it a bad thing. Think Hunger Games High school.
Comics were not cool…and we read them because we were not cool but they made us feel better. There was no banding together at a Comic Con…with dressing up in costumes and fellowship! Fellowship? Friends? …No –none of that.
When our glasses broke, we could not afford to fix them right away, so we rigged them the best we could. And we did that because without them-we could not see!
Star Wars was yet to become an official religion- it was just a movie they forgot to make toys for. (yes, there would be an over reaction of epic proportion and geeks everywhere or maybe nerds would buy tons and tons )
In this dark age-there was no difference between a geek and a nerd-each were considered the lowest form of life.
Star Trek was a campy 60’s show.
AND—-Batman was still a joke with the cheesy “Bam” graphics or as Robin would have said “Holy History Batman!” He was yet to make that Walter White transformation and go all badass over Gotham.
Those were the dark days of Geekdom and there was no music.
Then this band Devo came out.
They were smart, smart-ass and funny. We had a band….Yeah! We don’t have to pretend to like Foghat anymore people-we can dance…it just might be O.K to be us!!!
We are legion and we are the bomb!
Then Bill Gates and Steve Jobs arrived and the rest is history.
But first was Devo-first was sound. This revolution would not be televised.
Took a break from blogging to build a little snowman (oh yeah, we got snow!)…..it turned into a big fat cat- and this noir filter on the iPad made me think I was listening to Opeth! This is the winter of our discontent.
And for those of you that are still with me after that outrageous statement of pompous indifference- I will try to defend my non-hipster ass.
Note: Hipsters will not take me in and I don’t want to grow the approved fancy facial hair or lease a mini cooper right at this moment-plus I am just too frigging old anyway.
Bon Iver is more like Guinness due to the fact that once you get over that whole “wow, that stuff is so black and thick-it’s not like beer -how can you drink that crap?” phase and just down a few with a little conviction and determination. You find out that it is not that bad after all at first and then you find out in quick succession that it is in fact the best brew on the face of this earth—–and maybe even beyond; I mean when they finally find evidence of life on other planets and look at what they drink for beer…I have a hard time believing that anything in the milky way galaxy will beat this taste. It is sublime and it is all the tragedy and joy of life in a glass (at least if you get it poured right!).
Your palette becomes different not because you are of better stock than the huddled masses around you- your palette becomes different because you make the effort to give new things a chance and not instantly judge them as garbage.
This leads to an enjoyment of new things- this leads to experiencing art in a way that is like fireworks firing off in your brain.
Back to Bon Iver
Once you get over the whole “wow, sounds like a wimpy coyote howling on a cold Wisconsin night” kind of thing and let yourself flow with it. The dude can get right down into the subconscious of fear and love stored up in your brain -give it a gentle scratch and make you feel alive. The words are unspecific enough that it works on you like great abstract art because you get the emotion from the form and composition but don’t understand why you get it. (For those of you that don’t like abstract art-I suggest that you read my paragraph above about experiencing new things and drink a few Guinness before heading back to the museum).
All I mean to say:
Refinement is not about thinking you are better – it is about pushing through that wall of unknown to get to new enjoyment and appreciation.
And:
Thinking you are better than others because they don’t like the same beer (or premium vodka) or music that you like makes you not a hipster but just a prick- Ok…maybe it is the same thing?
Here is Bon Iver and hope you give yourself a chance to enjoy it-because once you really get it- it is something special.
And finally-hearing the Birdy version of this song inspired this post. I admit I don’t love this version or this artist now-but I will give it a chance and let it change my mind.
English: Criminal silhouette to the right (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I am a music blogger-I love Music- I am a criminal
Every time I feature a YouTube video with no permission-I risk committing a criminal act. The artists and/or other companies that have rights to this video must allow me to post their stuff or I am walking that “breaking bad” line.
Does it matter that every human being with access to the web will hit up YouTube to check music they have interest in but do not own?
Do 8,000,000 views and a label of “official” mean anything?
I am seriously asking the question.
I do not want to look at my cell mate of the near future and tell him I am doing 5 to 10 because Robert Plant had taken issue with the 7 like buttons on my “Stairway to Heaven” post. “Yeah, I posted it and did not even flinch when I hit that publish button, I am one bad-ass blogger!”
I need more, it is an addiction.
I love to feature music and then talk about it and possibly even argue about it in that polite WordPress way with three or four smiley faces. And I don’t make any “big faces” doing this. It is done simply for the love of music.
So I ask again-Are us music bloggers all criminals?
This is a great pop song-It has an emotional connection to people of all ages and all walks of life. Kind of like a bridge song that connects people to thoughts and feeling bigger than themselves. It encourages a feeling of community and responsibility. This is all good stuff, in fact….it is all great stuff. Can you become a converted hippie? I think it is starting to happen to me. Anyway this song made me think of an older tune from Marvin Gaye.
Simple and eloquent
Which made me think of my favorite “converted hippie song” bringing me right back to my alternative rock roots. Elvis Costello that quirky purveyor of hipness doing a song by the suave cool original Mr. Nick Lowe
Now I will head down to my local medical marijuana dispensary and see if they can point me in the direction of the closest “converted hippie” bar or nudist colony or wherever my new people hang out. If indeed all the old hippies are at a nudist colony- I really wish I did my conversion a couple months ago when the weather was much warmer! Oh well, it is just another group that will barely tolerate me for a while and send me back to my cave anyway.
I love awards and I love tequila but I have to be careful with both, it is easy to get out of control. They both go better with a few grains of salt.
I made this award as a joke for my blog but then again, that is how all these awards start. Someone makes one and adds some criteria…”tell me about you and pass this sucker on to 10-15 deserving bloggers who will do the same.” And they will do the same and on and on. And after a while it will seem like a chain letter but not like a chain letter because those that are drinking are talking and meeting new people who are opening up and breaking out of their little blogger shells- so it’s like a shot of tequila! People are happy!
I am absolutely honored by all the nominations I have received. It is great for anybody to visit and feel I am worthy of playing this game….so thanks because I love to party once in a while.
I loved doing the A.B.C award…I really did!
An award makes me loud and friendly as I spread the joy of this new gregarious “awardness” me all over the blogosphere. Just like “tequila me” might be a more fun guy.
“Living in the limelight approaches the unreal”
And I guess that is where I feel the disconnect. I feel like a bartender passing out the limes, salt and blue agave distillate- it is great when the glasses are picked up but kind of a bummer when they are not. I don’t wish to pick and chose and risk aggravating those who are on the wagon in my friendly community. Plus, they are a lot of work. Plus, if you go crazy, you can become an award alcoholic and your blog becomes just a blog about receiving and handing out awards.
So if you are an Award Agnostic like me and want to put this on your blog…please just take it and do what you want with it. You don’t need to credit me or contact 15 new blogs. You don’t need to do anything because I had fun making it.
And if you send me an award- I just might join in and down it in one gulp because I still want to believe. I am not offended either way.
When Spinal Tap was released in 1984, it signaled the end of a golden age in rock music. We did not realize it at the time because we were too busy enjoying it.
Around the corner, Hip hop was a baby and quickly growing and “file sharing” was ready to pounce and dismantle the whole industry. Like the dinosaurs who once wondered what those weird soft squishy things underfoot called mammals were all about.
And what are the chances of a meteor hitting the earth?
Rock music was about to be unceremoniously dethroned.
“Why not just make 10 louder and keep that the biggest number?”
“These go to 11”
And
“That is pretty, a real departure from your other stuff”
Thanks, it’s in the sad key of D-minor, I call it “Lick my Love Pump”
Maybe the funniest thing was the bit about books on tape, which was the most perfect joke since it actually happened.
I am not saying “rock is dead” and I am not saying that there is not great music out there today.
I AM NOT EVEN SAYING THAT MUSIC IN MY TIME WAS SOMETHING AND ALL ELSE IS NOTHING.
What I am saying is that once it ruled the earth as the dominant species and that did not last forever. Once we waited in line all night to get tickets to shows, because if we didn’t –we would not get a ticket. There was no V.I.P experience that could be bought by anyone with enough money. There were no rock fantasy camps! Rock music was not a video game where you got to match colors with buttons on a little plastic guitar!!! Guitars were both worshipped and smashed (a fate that has befallen false deities, rambunctious gods and statues of fanatical leaders since the beginning of time!)
“Stonehenge was in danger of being trampled by dwarfs!”
Believe it or not kids-Once we were in a hurry to see stars before they ODed so we could say that we saw them instead of rushing to see them now before they go of natural causes.
“The Puppet Show gets higher billing than us! We are opening for a puppet show”
I am good with YouTube to allow access to any music of any genre at any time. I am good with bringing music with me and listening to anything I want without upsetting anyone else. If I want to crank up Lemmy and the boys doing “Ace of Spades” while mowing the lawn- in this day and age…no one can stop me.
I am also good with Pandora picking music that I don’t like based on music I like. And who can hate being able to make perfect copies of music tracks to enjoy responsibly? I am glad that we are in a different place and have no desire to return to the old days.
We can always learn to sell hats or maybe get reborn with a tour of Japan.
That was the Rock n’ Roll Dream of Spinal Tap
Instead of playing rehashed hits with one or two original members in an obsessive gluttony of nostalgia in front of fans that wish they still could be as stupid as they once were.
“We now begin a new stage in our music development- Enjoy Spinal Tap mach 2! A jazz odyssey”
We all have to grow up and looking back at yourself and having a good laugh is a good place to start.
Thank you to Nigel, Derek, David and a spontaneously combusting drummer for showing us that.
He is a virtuoso guitar player and evangelist of the blues- I have an unnatural and possibly not quite legal love of the blues myself.
I should love this guy and all he stands for.
He is from Upstate N.Y where I call home…and not just “everything 12 miles north of NYC” Upstate but close enough to me in Upstate that his town gets on my local weather map.
I should love this guy and all he stands for.
There he is with his Sunburst Les Paul playing with Eric Clapton. Wow, the classic tool of the trade and how cool is that to be sanctified by slow hand himself?
I should love this guy and all he stands for.
I can’t watch or listen- he is too close.
If he was from Mongolia, I would love him…I picture him riding his horse over the grassy plane to meet the tribe leader who happens to be his Dad to tell him that he is done herding Yaks and going to N.Y to follow his dream –“Dad, I will play a searing blues guitar that will make beautiful women scream and strong men cry.”
Then I would listen.
If he grew up on the streets of a post-industrial working class city like Pittsburgh, Cleveland or maybe Newcastle and was full of angst and rage that needed an outlet, then like the proverbial oyster forging a pearl, he transformed that pain into reverberated and distorted beauty that would conjure the ghost of Jimi.
Then I would love him.
Even if he changed his name to some kind of alter image- Like Johnny Ace or Joe Bomb or Alice Samobon. Anything to remove him from that regular guy down the street image of him stuck in my head.
Then I would love him.
So when I flip channels and find Joe Bonamassa live in Vienna as a P.B.S special- I should be all over it. I should be clicking to it and cranking it up. I should live and die with each perfectly sustained bent string of gleaming purity that emanates from this master of his craft. I should be almost to tears before the first pledge break.
But alas- he is too close to me and I cannot separate my preconceived feelings about him and just enjoy the show.
Joe Bonamassa this and Joe Bonamassa that, I get it but I can’t go there.
The Essential REO Speedwagon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I need some kind of rock n roll diploma to hang by my computer to justify me as a blogger of rock music; so I will tell this story from 1982.
My taste in music is not always as good as I think- now or in the past
Case in point:
I once was an REO Speedwagon fanatic.
I am not proud of this but I admit that I may still own the entire REO Speedwagon catalogue. (at least up until the incident in the title)…yes, even those obscure records before Kevin Cronin took over as lead singer-And it gets worse:
I proudly wore a R.E.O belt buckle that I bought at the county fair. Back in the good ol’ days when copyright infringement was not farmed out to Asian countries; we made quality fake stuff right here in the U.S.A!!
While my friends were listening to Pink Floyd and Kiss- I was way ahead of the curve on pure grain-fed Midwestern formula paint by numbers watered down blues. (In my defense- “You can tune a piano but you can’t tuna fish” is not a bad record)
And then R.E.O abandoned their rock n’ roll roots and became the biggest pop/rock band in America with the release ofHi Infidelity.
This was the biggest selling rock album in America In 1982.
And that is when I met my heroes in a bar…and ended up in handcuffs backstage at their sold-out show.
I had planned to take a girl friend but that required finding a girl and having her remain in “active girl friend status” at the time of this show- I had two months to make this happen but as an awkward, nerdy and slightly weird young adult- fate was stacked against me- I had great seats and no date a couple days before the show. I sold my tickets to some happy couple for no profit.
Plus the band was a riot of popularity as mega stars and my infatuation with them was rapidly fading. I told myself they had sold-out.
On the night before the show I am sitting in a bar in downtown Saratoga Springs- It is 1am and the bar band is playing- there are maybe 12 of us in there and the owner of said establishment has stopped collecting the 2 dollar cover charge.
Who walks in but Kevin Cronin, Gary Richrath and one other dude from R.E.O (maybe the drummer?- I guess I need help from one of the other eleven in the bar that night to help me remember?)
They walk to the stage and rip into “Johnny Be Good” with a couple members of the bar band- They did play a couple more songs before departing and I remember slapping Kevin Cronin on the back and saying thanks as they walked out (BTW-he does not like that- just in case you get in range)
But how cool is the biggest band on the planet just going back and playing for fun?
I should have left it right there, but:
Night of the show I am hanging outside the gates at the Performing Arts Center because I have no tickets…some go jumping over the fence and I join them to sneak in.
A security guard chases me and I run away—I am fast but the guard is faster and tackles me in a spectacular dive which could have made the top ten on Sports Center. The crowd loved it!
I am handcuffed and put on a golf cart with other criminals to be processed. They do the processing backstage at the show—which is kind of ironic because that is closer than any of us dreamed of getting.
One scary dude handcuffed to a locker and is yelling obscenities and insults at me largely because I am dressed like a geek. I realize 3 things at that moment:
I am a geek and even getting arrested with people does not automatically make me “cool” with those people.
I am going to be calm and make good decisions from this point forward so that I don’t end up going to jail.
Damn, that guard was fast! He must do a 4.1 time on the forty yard dash!
Thankfully- I was issued a ticket and released- It was a 50 dollar fine.
Soon after this I would get seriously in to more underground music.
Cave of Fame 