Music music music music music music… I’m supposed to write about music.
But sometimes, the world of music simply isn’t very exciting. It happens in the world of television and movies as well, and it certainly happens more often than not if one were to be writing about art or architecture. I suppose I can be grateful that my column isn’t in one of those two categories and stop my complaining.
To be honest, it’s been a long week in my world: I moved! Yes, I’m still in Dubuque, and this is actually the 12th time I have moved within my hometown. It’s not a very exciting story and I was completely in and unpacked within four days. I built an entertainment center and a media rack so far, hung approximately 800 curtains and several large pictures, and have been cursing the wireless network we have set up here. My computer has been randomly freezing for no apparent reason. If you’re a computer techie with some inkling as to where the burden may be hitting my system and some possible tweaks, I would love you forever. In the meantime, I’ll keep hitting “save” between every paragraph I type.
Anyway, I’m here, my cat Anneke is here (it’s Dutch; it approximately rhymes with “Monica” and is a clear tribute to one of my favorite vocalists of all time), my roomie and best friend Sarah is kind of here, and the microwave is here so I can once again assume my role as Master Box ‘n’ Can Chef. And all 7000+ albums are here, although not getting much spin thanks to my computer issues. If there’s anything I miss due to my tech woes, it’s sleeping with music on. I’m going to have to dig out my old Sony boom box for tonight or I’ll never get to sleep.
No, no country though. That doesn’t mean I don’t have Patsy Cline’s Gold handy, but the chances of it getting airplay above albums I’m set to review are pretty much the same as me sleeping with anyone from this damned website. Crazy, I’m crazy for feeling so lonely… hmmm, I AM single and I DO like that song…
Enough of this nonsense.
Alice In Musicland
Music news. Didn’t I aready say that was a dead end? Ahhh well.
Credit to RollingStone.com:
Muscle Shoals Sound Studios, the Alabama venue where Aretha Franklin, Bob Dylan, Wilson Pickett, the Rolling Stones and Paul Simon all made classic records, has closed its doors forever.
“It’s a sad day in America,” says producer, session musician and arranger Al Kooper. “So many great records were made there. The musicians, engineers and the magic of the room made it special.”
Muscle Shoals Sound Studios was founded in 1969 in an old Sheffield, Alabama, casket warehouse by musicians Barry Beckett, Roger Hawkins, David Hood and Jimmy Johnson, who doubled as its famous house band, the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section (a.k.a. “the Swampers,” as immortalized in Skynyrd’s “Sweet Home Alabama”). Their first client was Cher, who recorded her 3614 Jackson Highway album there, and named it after the studio’s address.
After more than three decades of operation, the studio — which moved to a 31,000 square-foot building on the banks of the Tennessee River in 1978 — recorded its last sessions in December and shuttered on January 14th because of declining business. The two Neve consoles have been sold to studios in Los Angeles and Detroit, the studio owners are exploring donating memorabilia to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, and a local film production company has purchased the property.
Between this and CBGB’s thinking of hitting the highway, “American Pie” instantly starts flowing through my head. I’m sure there are plenty of new and wonderful studios out there, perhaps even some in the backwoods of the ‘hood (a la Kern Little — and I’ll be damned if I don’t start working more Shield references into my column) that are set to be homes to the future of music. Still, if there’s anything I learned from the Girl Scouts, you make new friends but keep the others, because one is silver and the other’s gold.
Yet I’m sure while I could go on and on lamenting the loss of another musical landmark, when is the last time Muscle Shoals was relevant? It got a mention in “Sweet Home Alabama,” but what since? Shouldn’t the studio have converted itself into a museum a long time ago? And if so, wouldn’t that have probably brought in more money, possibly then enabling the owners to keep the property and preserve it for future generations?
While I’m thinking about it, why in the hell is CBGB’s leasing? When the cash started rolling in, those twits should have made an offer and bought the place outright when they had the opportunity.
I’m sorry, I’ll stop with my crazy business ideas peppered with common sense. There’s no place for anything like that in modern society.
Is there anything else I missed? AC/DC is releasing a DVD, Alanis became an American, P Diddy is being sued for not writing a book after taking the advance over five years ago, Xtina got engaged… yeah, I didn’t miss anything at all.
Band vs. Band
Like the last time, I pulled this one from something I wrote almost five years ago. You’ll take it and like it until I have recycled all the material that the world missed when I was under the radar. Enjoy Bon Jovi vs. Def Leppard (’80s era).
This may be the most difficult decision of my life.
The very first tape I EVER OWNED was Bon Jovi’s Slippery When Wet. I mean, how do you compete with that? It was the very first. It was all that I had to listen to until I bought a Bananarama tape. And really — during that summer, you couldn’t walk two paces without hearing “Livin’ On A Prayer” coming from somewhere. Bon Jovi was king.
In sixth grade, my hormones started flowin’, and Bon Jovi moved from just being my favorite rock n’ roll band to the object of my constant drool. Jon Bon Jovi had the hair. He had the smile. He had the clothes. There was no stopping Jon. He was a complete rock god.
And the songs… oh, the songs. What long-hair-obsessed, hard-rock-lovin’ girl could resist anything from “You Give Love A Bad Name” to “Lay Your Hands On Me?” I’ll never forget it, I was at sixth grade camp over my birthday, and I was upset because I was away from home. And what should happen but all the girls in my cabin start singing “I’ll Be There For You.” Suddenly, everything just seemed a little better.
They had the aforementioned Slippery When Wet. They had New Jersey. They did a song for a Young Guns movie. Then they released that sack of shit album, Keep The Faith, although that torrid crap is exempt from this debate due to its ’90s release (and the fact that I really like their newer albums won’t give them bonus points, either). But back in the day, there was never much in my mind that could compete with Bon Jovi. And then along came “Pour Some Sugar On Me.”
Def Leppard was the second band to ever grace my walls. I wasn’t so much sweet on Joe Elliott as I was on Rick Savage. Oh man, that big fuzzy head of hair and those puppy dog eyes. Ohhhh yeah. But then again, Joe had those kick ass jeans. You know the ones. He was soooo cool.
I hadn’t really heard much of Pyromania at the time or any of their other earlier releases (or, at least, I didn’t recognize those songs as being Def Leppard’s given their habit of releasing albums every four years). However, once Hysteria started up the charts, I was in heaven. I actually knew some of the words to “Sugar.” And I thought I had died and gone to heaven the first time I heard “Love Bites.” Man. “Love Bites.” That song is f*cking amazing. I still insist “Rocket” is one of the catchiest grooves of its era, and damn near everything they have done is made just for the radio.
Granted, much like Bon Jovi, the ’90s weren’t kind to Def Leppard. Bon Jovi did better commercially, but that doesn’t make it good. Adrenalize was lucky to have three listenable songs on it, and Slang was just kinda… weird, like Smashing Pumpkins came in and took over Def Lep for a while. At least Euphoria kicked ass though, much like how Bon Jovi managed to somehow come back with something decent. And although I’m not counting any of this against or for them, at least they’re balanced with the competition on this one.
Who should win this battle? In many ways, Def Leppard easily triumphs. Bon Jovi could rock, but Def Leppard could groove. Bon Jovi could sing songs about love and yearning, but Def Leppard would feel the pain. Jon Bon Jovi dated the same chick since high school and eventually married her, but Def Leppard had sex with EVERY SINGLE GIRL IN THE UNIVERSE. All of them.
But then again, Bon Jovi never had some retarded band members that drank themselves to death, drove like maniacs until they lost their arm, or took FOUR FUCKING YEARS TO RELEASE AN ALBUM. Plus, they had Tommy and Gina. Those two crazy kids are never gonna die!
As much as I hate to have to choose (and as much as I am dying to completely rip on a goodly chunk of crap these bands both released in the ’90s), I have to say Def Leppard takes the cake. As much as I adore “Wanted Dead or Alive,” one superb song just can’t stand up with some of the amazing stuff the Leps managed to lay down for us. Bon Jovi, much like their New Jersey home, might be a lot more fun than Def Leppard, but fun won’t add you to my list of 100 Songs I Never Get Sick Of Hearing and just can’t compete.
I’m sorry, Bon Jovi. Don’t worry, I still love you.
File Under…
A bit different from the norm, I just found this hilarious. Did you know there are several specific and labeled genres of Comedy?
First, comedy records have been around for years in various forms. While one may immediately think of either the Richard Pryor or Eddie Murphy variety, others first think of novelty acts like “Weird” Al Yankovic and Tom Lehrer. Still others will first envision the endless Jerky Boys or Bob & Tom compilations, while someone like my mother would probably blurt, “The one eyed, one horned, giant purple people eater! That’s comedy!” And very few of these artists have much in common other than their direct mission to make their audience laugh.
Musical comedy can be distinctly broken down into novelty songs (“Henry the VIII”) and song parody. These can further be classified into your typical country, rock, and rap genres. When all of the above mix, usually you’re looking at something from morning radio rather than a true musical comedy artist, and those have been sub-genred as well.
As for spoken comedy, there’s everything from sketch comedy to standup; these can be further broken down into prank calls, blue/risque humor, observational humor, or satire, and even further broken down by subject matter such as gay comedy, ethnic comedy, political comedy, or even Christian comedy. Clearly, these overlap for many artists (see Bill Hicks or George Carlin, easily). Thankfully, there doesn’t seem to be a real need for music stores to sub-label anything in the comedy section. People seem to be confused enough about where to look for that Jay-Z/Linkin Park album.
We can also thank the stars above that there’s no possibility of a “prop humor” audio comedy genre. We are spared the wit of Carrot Top pressed to vinyl.
My Opinion Matters
I’m not going to give my opinion on this one and instead send you this link which made me so happy to be alive. And here, have another link which gave me the giggles. Ahhh, LiveJournal, after over 3 1/2 years, I still enjoy the daily funnies from many friends and hours of pointless babble.
Anyway, since this section is supposed to be my own ranting opinion yet I have nothing to really discuss off of the top of my head, instead I will give a huge thumbs-up to that Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper commercial that has the old Sesame Street song, “M’nah M’nah” in it. That was one of my ultra-favorites as a kid, and the very first time I ever saw the commercial, I totally burst into song. Sesame Street was the greatest, man, way before that annoying brat Elmo invaded to sweep the cuteness of Prairie Dawn into oblivion. And don’t get me started on the fact that now everyone can see the Snuffalufagus. That’s f*cking heresy. Man, Mr. Hooper died and the whole neighborhood went to shit.
By the way, I don’t know if they still do, but years ago I worked until 2:30 am; Noggin used to show repeats of ’70s Sesame Street episodes starting at 3 am. Nothing was better — and I mean NOTHING — than watching Stevie Wonder and his band play “Superstition” while all of these afro’ed and bellbottomed children totally rocked out. That is the greatest moment I have ever seen on that show. I need that bitch on DVD.
The Rad Ones
First props go to Aaron Cameron because he’s always so gracious to me and because a week doesn’t go by without an Oz reference, for better or for worse. See, my friends and I spent months gathering every weekend last year to watch a few episodes on DVD, gearing up for Season 4’s release a few weeks ago and has created an entire universe of in-jokes for us to enjoy. So, reading his column is almost like hanging out with my buddies. You know, except for the wife and kids stuff. I’m not ready to grow up yet.
Second props go to Jeffrey Fernandez because I always forget about his damned column for some reason — which is ridiculous, because he’s always got something fascinating to talk about (including weird Dutch food this week). He also posts a lot of photos, which is a hell of a lot more effort than I can say for myself. I like photos. Me need pretty drarwings to be entertained.
And MATHAN! You brought back the horrible Calvin memories! What’s next — HERB?
Outside of music, the single most hilarious thing I saw on the IP main page would be the successive news topic stories about the hockey waffling: parts one and deux. A little personality goes a long way, and the giggle was definitely appreciated.
For you LiveJournal-ites, make sure to hang out with a hundred million staff members and readers at the Inside Pulse community. While it’s not always on an IP topic, we surely seem to amuse each other regardless.
Outro
Total computer freezing count while writing this article: ONE! I only lost a paragraph, too. Perhaps hard-wiring this damned thing through one of the intake vents in the walls will solve my problems. I have no real reason for being wireless other than that I hate wires.
My bathroom is decorated in rubber duckies. See, when you take on a roommate, you have to make compromises in taste. I let her have the bathroom to do with as she pleased. I also let her put up her wall hangings in the living room because they actually went well with my taste in furniture. In exchange, I pretty much have done everything else in this house the way I want to do it. This is why our friendship has lasted so long; I’m bossy, but so long as I don’t completely dismiss her ideas and opinions, she tolerates it. Of course, now I need to make up for this rubber duckie business by covering the refrigerator with my dirty magnetic poetry set. So far, it just says “black penis.” One step at a time.
And yes, the Dream Theater banner is on my bedroom door. Don’t you dare think I have been slacking in my fandom during these turbulent times.
Perhaps when all of this business is settled, I will start tracking down some of the country tunes that people e-mailed me in recommendation last week. It’s almost frightening that I’m somewhat keyed up and excited to try something new, even though I’m fully aware that it’s not my cup of tea. Adventure! Or I could just stick to what I know…
See, at least for a while, I’ll be watching the Season 3 Shield DVDs that came out today and dreaming of nothing but hours of Vic Mackey sex. Mmmm, yummy.
One of my awesome LJ friends drew that for me. Clearly I need help, but I don’t not want none.
He called me baby, baby, all night long,
–gloomchen
